#need to flesh it out so to speak *wink*

[wotvagyok]

T hunger Steve has entered by brain again and I’m feeling more of a plot forming ah I may actually write something for once

My thoughts are currently consumed by Trans Steve starting T and getting all kinds of thicc because of it.

At first noticing the changes, how he’s filling out in all the right places, the little stretch marks on his new belt, on his arms, his thick love handles. It’s all dense and doughy, he’s so sturdy now, so chonky.

And then a couple of years in, a few self discoveries later, sat between Bucky’s thighs, so stuffed and bloated and round, Bucky’s hand in his skin-tight and torn boxers, pressing into him, holding another bite to his lips.

Steve’s lax, pressed against his chest, head lying limp against Bucky’s shoulder. His brain his empty, eyes glazed, as he opens his mouth to keep eating.

“Good boy.” Bucky whispers to him as he bucks his hips in desperation. “Gettin’ so fat,” a hand slides down to the blushing swell of his stomach, sitting in his lap now, and rubs soothing circles across the taut skin. He reaches for another few fries and holds them to Steve’s mouth when he finishes chewing. Steve takes a gasping bite. “Such a good, greedy boy.”

[atrwriting]

thinking about stripper reader with old man logan.

he came in every week or so — disheveled outfit and hair. he was older, sure — but not in the way most men his age looked. no — the years didn’t wear on him, but whatever he did that day did. his wrinkles weren’t deep, but the bags under his eyes were. his smile lines weren’t permanent, but the distant look in his eyes was. his bones didn’t crack because they were old, but because they were under too much stress. you couldn’t help it — you wanted to take that pain away.

no one wanted to approach him because he seemed to keep to himself — worried he was a creep or something. he was quiet, too — only speaking when he ordered a drink or another after that. he replied in nods or shakes of the head, and his eyes were always on the stage. despite the fact that he tipped well — no one bit.

you were feeling brave that day when you approached him. you kept it simple — black lace teddy, black lace thong, and black heels. hair bouncy with light makeup, hoping to keep the star of the show your eyes and smile. you knew he could see you out of the corner of his eye, and it threatened your confidence — but he had peaked your interest for too long for you to toss and stumble now.

“hey, handsome,” you spoke, keeping your tone light. “need another?”

he didn’t cock his head towards you, keeping his gaze in front. he swirled the small sip of whisky left in his glass, appearing to contemplate your question. after a moment, he responded, “dancers don’t take drink orders, darlin’.”

“no,” you spoke, laughing slightly. you bent at the hips, hoping to be lower than his eye line. “but they don’t when they give private dances — interested?”

“no, thanks.”

his voice was final — and even though you were disappointed, you didn’t want to push it. you stood then, taking a step back. “okay — i’ll send a waitress over.”

after working the room — it was your turn to take one of the side stages. you had your pick of which — but you decided to keep it as far away from the man as possible. if he didn’t want to be bothered, who were you to threaten a good tip? curiosity would not be killing the cat tonight — especially not when there was more money to be made.

a few men had gathered during your set, throwing a few dollar bills here and there as you swung your hips to the music. you had switched into a falls cowboys cheerleader outfit — white shorts, blue top, and white bra. cliche and overdone, but by the look of your tips — you couldn’t care less.

you also couldn’t care less when you noticed a set of eyes on you — the man’s.

he was unashamed in the way he stared at you. he had gotten another round at some point — but wasn’t drinking any of the contents. he simply gripped it tight as he stared at your swaying hips and perfect curves. you bit your lip at the thought of him regretting turning you away, the confidence intoxicating you. before the song ended, you made sure to lock eyes with him — letting you know that this was your stage and your body he was silently and secretly drooling over. when you sent a cheeky wink his way, he shook his head — downing his glass in an instant. you smiled when he stood from his seat, immediately darting for the “vip” lounge in the back that proudly boasted a sign that read “private dances.”

when you made your way into the back room, you were told that a certain someone had specially asked for you. once you made your way back there, you found what you were looking for.

“make me feel young again, darlin’.”

you couldn’t help but smile. he didn’t say it in an insecure way, but in a way that suggested that his day had been too long and too tiring.

“tell me how you like it?”

he didn’t say anything — he just watched you. his eyes never left yours as you flung off your top, exposing your breasts. he drank his entire glass of whisky before you had planted yourself on his thighs. the flesh of your ass was like to pillows, fit for his large hands. he didn’t touch you — but by how hard he gulped, you could tell he wanted to.

“touch me, sugar,” you whispered. “i won’t tell.”

there was hesitation in his eyes, but soon his gaze darkened. restraint had fallen through the cracks, gone and forgotten. was a shame he had already paid for the dance — you would’ve fucked him for free.

now it was time to make it worth his while.

the man beneath you ground your round hips down into his pelvis, groaning at the friction. he hadn’t seen peace or pleasure since never, but it held his facial feature hostage as his nostrils picked up on the scent of your arousal. warm, tangy juices that leaked through the lace in your panties onto the denim of his jeans.

“take off your pants,” you breathed. “i’ll remind you how young you are — if you promise you’ll show me the skill that only comes with age.”

he had you bent over the table, hands behind your back held by his belt. he planted two heavy feet next to each of your ankles, keeping your legs spread and ready for him. his thrusts were hard against the back of your hips as you only had the table’s edge to support you. you felt him repeatedly hit your cervix, wincing at the aggression.

“that’s not the spot, huh, darlin’?” he spat.

you stayed silent — wanting to see how he reacted.

“i can feel it — resistance,” he grunted. “that sweet pussy needs more, doesn’t she?”

his hard, calloused hands rotated your hips so the tip of his cock repeatedly began to smack into the softest and gummiest part of your inner walls. a moan ripped through you like no other — your back arching upwards as your hips desperately tried to meet his thrusts.

“there it is — that’s it, darlin’. come on, fight back.” you could feel the rough skin of his finger tips dig up and into your pelvis, welcoming the pressure. one of his hands moved underneath you — hauling your hips upwards — pressing against your lower abdomen. he could feel the outline of his cock fucking into your womb, stuffing you full. “i can feel how deep you’re takin’ it, darlin’ — pussy so greedy, ain’t she? — always wantin’ more? those young boys just ain’ it? i’ll take care of her, darlin’…”

you were a whining mess beneath him — practically incoherent. he could hear, smell, feel, taste everything you were feeling. he had every part of you in his hands — completely vulnerable to his mercy and touch. and when your hips started to shake — fighting with him and against him — all he could do was force them down as you took his cock. you whined and whine and whinedwhinedwhined for more until the glam makeup began to melt off your face.

the man watched as your body shook for him — him and only him. you found his wrist, holding onto it for dear life as you tired to anchor yourself. the pleasure was too much, causing your head to spin. you could feel the man rub the skin of your ass tenderly, coaxing you into your orgasm. your womb bloomed for him, wanting to suck him dry and never let him go. his groans were animalistic, filling the room as you begged him to fill your pussy. he smacked your ass once, twice, thrice before he pulled out and painted your back with his cum.

once he pulled out, you were still on your stomach on the table as you tried to catch your breath. he bent down to meet your eyes — a youthful glow on his face — before he pressed a kiss to your lips.

“you just ruined men my own age for me.”

“get your things, doll — takin’ you away from here.”

———

depravity - L xoxo lmk what u think ;)

[adragonprinceswhore]

Teaching the Unteachable

Aegon Targaryen x Wife

Summary: When all else fails, Aegon's wife employs drastic measures to teach the unteachable.

Warnings: 18+, banter, (slight) dom/sub, temperature play, wax play, dry humping, dirty talk, Aegon being horny and in love

A/N: So, apparently this smutty drabble I wrote in December turned out to be canon? Anyway, have some more 'Aegon being bad at High Valyrian', but with a fun, sexy twist ✨

Word Count: 1200

. • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　

“No, you need to roll your R’s. Like this: zaldrīzes” 

Aegon rolls his eyes before mockingly impersonating you, “zaldrīzes”. 

“No no, place the tip of your tongue by the roof of your mouth”, you explain, demonstratively opening your mouth to show your husband how he should place his tongue to achieve the sound he hadn’t yet mastered. 

Aegon’s eyes light up in mischief as he regards you. “I’m afraid I do not quite understand, my love. Perhaps if you place your tongue in my mouth, you can demonstrate it for me?” 

Now it is your turn to give him an unimpressed look. 

“If you want the realm to view you as a true Targaryen, you need to know how to speak like one”, you chide him, eyes sternly locking with his. 

“I do not give a shit about how the realm views me”, Aegon replies, tone sincere yet playful, “All that is of matter to me is how tempting my wife appears when she speaks of proper tongue placement”. 

You’re sitting next to each other by the table placed a few paces from the hearth burning in your shared chambers, Aegon’s hand continuously playing with your fingers. 

“You come to me sulking over the fact that your High Valyrian is no better than it was back when we were mere babes”, you sigh, “begging me to teach you”

Aegon hums as he bends your ring finger in his palm.

“Yet you do not listen to a word I say”, you scold him, pulling your hand away from his grip. 

“My love, I have come to a regretful realisation”, he replies with feigned gravity weighing heavy in his voice, “I’m afraid I’ll need another tutor” 

You answer his declaration by raising an impassive brow. A grin breaks out on his face. 

“One that doesn’t make my cock hard as soon as she opens her mouth”. 

Your eyes go wide at his crude remark, hand coming up to lightly smack him on the chest for his lewdness. 

“Aegon-“

He winks before moving closer to you, restless hands coming up to squeeze your thighs over your skirts, “Call me husband”

It is hard to stay mad at him in playful times like these, when he uses every charismatic trick he knows. Yet you have to remain strong, if only on the outside. 

“Why should I waste my days teaching the unteachable?”

“I am your husband. Your valzȳrys”, Aegon triumphs, hands moving up to pinch the flesh of your hips over the satin fabric you’re donning.  

One of the candles adorning the wooden table by you draws its last breath, hot wax running down its side. Your finger comes up to collect some, a pleasant chill running through your body at the sudden sting of warmth. 

“You can’t even say that right”, you tell him, a petty ridicule you know he won’t take to heart. Your eyes stay fixed on the wax slowly hardening on your fingertip. 

“Then teach me” 

His hands grab onto your sides tighter, pulling you off your chair and towards him. Instead of giving in too quickly, you resist his demand momentarily, feet steady on the floor to hinder him from pulling you onto his lap.

“Valzȳrys, I think you’re in due need of a punishment. For being such a disobedient pupil, and for talking about your tutor in such lewd ways”, you say, voice serious but eyes shining with mischief. 

Aegon looks up to meet your gaze, the grin on his face growing wider as he nods. 

You climb onto his lap, straddling him. Your noses almost knock together from the close proximity. He brings his hands to rest around your waist, but you grab them both and gently place them on the armrests of the chair. 

“No touching”, you instruct and he nods obediently. 

You’re sure you can sense the rigid proof of growing arousal where your centres meet, and your strict demeanour almost falters at the realisation. You haven’t even begun, yet your husband is desperate for you. 

You fight off a victorious smile as you pick up one candle, flame still burning, and look into Aegon's lilac eyes. The hand not holding the candle moves to untie the strings at the top of the undershirt he’s wearing. 

“If you fail to properly recite the words I ask you to say”, you start, the grin you’d tried to fight off causing the corners of your mouth to twitch upwards, “I get to pour wax on your chest”

Your husband’s eyes light up in intrigue, “And if I say the words correctly?”

“You’ll be awarded the satisfaction of knowing you are coherent in your native tongue”, you respond sternly. Aegon watches you expectantly. 

“Wife”, you begin your unwonted examination, swirling the lit candle between your fingers.

“Ābrazyrys”, Aegon confidently replies, raising his face in pride. 

You tilt the candle to the side, allowing the hot wax to pour down onto his slightly exposed chest. He gasps in surprise and you tut at his reaction.

“Atrocious pronunciation”, you chastise your husband, eyes shining with amusement. He inhales deeply, hands gripping the sides of the chair tightly. 

“Again”, you demand. 

“Ābrazyrys���, he breathes out, a whimper escaping his lips as you pour more wax on his chest. You are now certain that the hardness against your centre is evidence of how much he’s enjoying your teaching method, so you languidly roll your hips against his.

“Ābrazyrys”, you correct him as he grunts at the feeling of your core pressing against his. The wax on his chest had congealed, resembling pearls resting on his flustered skin. 

The alluring sight causes you to momentarily lose your senses, pressing a kiss against his lips; the flustered pink tint of his cheeks too appealing. When you pull away, he follows your mouth for more, but you give him a pointed look and continue, 

“Thank you, wife”

“Kirimvose, ābrazyrys”, Aegon all but moans as you pour more wax down his chest in the middle of his utterance. Having him at your mercy, torturing him with stinging pleasure, has rendered you wanton as well, causing you to roll your hips against his more forcefully to dull the ache blooming there; waiting to be attended to. 

You lean forward, swiping your tongue over your husband's soft lips. He pays no heed to your instructions any longer, hands leaving the armrest to circle your body, pressing you closer to him as he devours your mouth. He pushes your body in a silent plea for you to continue rocking against him, and you comply, eager to soothe your neglected core. 

The passion between you almost causes you to forget the still burning candle in your hand, but you manage to detach from his lips long enough to blow it out, fingertips once again pressing into the melted wax on the top. Before it solidifies over your skin, you grab the sides of Aegon’s chin, messily pressing the wax into his flesh as you steer his face towards yours, kissing him deeply as he hisses in stinging bliss. 

Perhaps he truly needs another tutor? 

One that doesn’t get her cunt wet as soon as he opens his mouth.

. • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Thank you for reading! 🩵

[seresinhangmanjake]

His

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x reader

Summary: You used to be a Lady, a daughter of a Great House until Feyd took you. Since then, your sole purpose has been to warm his bed, but when Rabban asks about having you for himself, Feyd makes a choice that changes your future.

Words: 2600

Notes: Possessiveness. Grumpy Feyd. I know it's similar to another one of my fics, but I realized that after the fact, so...

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist

You didn’t sleep. Not a wink. You laid in his bed all night, waiting for the man who never came, and your heart didn’t cease its ferocious beats for a second. Where is he? Why isn’t he here? Is he ok? What happened? The sun rises without answers to those questions. 

You shoot up in bed when the door eases open. Expecting to find him, you’re disappointed to see instead his harpies enter one after the other. They don’t look at you. One goes about riffling through your dresses in the closet, one heads into the bathroom and you suddenly hear a rush of water filling the tub, and the last of them goes to the vanity Feyd brought in for you, lining up makeup and hair pins that she intends to use on you. 

The air about them is poised—an echo of who they used to be before they were turned into pets—as, for the moment, their vile, more carnivorous side lies dormant. 

Feyd only allows them to near you a couple hours after they’ve been fed; the peak time between their hunger sated and their bellies rumbling. At any other time, your uniquely foreign scent wafts to their nostrils and they are incapable of holding themselves back. More than a handful of instances—when they’ve managed to manipulate the guards to open their cages with their seductive smiles—they’ve gone on the hunt for you; one time in particular, sneaking into the bedroom in the middle of the night and yanking you from Feyd’s arms with the intention of sinking their teeth into your flesh. Feyd had been so furious he’d cut a finger from each of their hands. 

Still, they don’t scare you. You see in them women not entirely unlike yourself: owned, and therefore, changed. Soft are the women who have had the luxury of marriage and child-rearing in the comforts of wealth and beautiful homes—and good for them; how lovely to be soft—but it is the women who have not a choice in their existence that develop a steel shell. And you and the harpies have steel shells. In that way, they are your kin, and you try to subtly express that when you can, even though their allegiance to Feyd can make that quite difficult.

“Where is he?” you ask. 

They ignore you, continuing with their tasks, and you huff. Yes, sometimes they refuse to speak with you, and always it seems when you need their words most. In the past, you’ve been tempted to dangle your arm in front of their sharpened fangs in the hope that the offering will encourage their cooperation, but you’ve yet to find the bravery for that. Plus, Feyd would lose his mind. Well, he would lose the rest of it. 

“You’ve spoken to me before,” you continue. “Why not now?”

One of them stops and faces you. She glances at her sister who shakes her head. 

“Tell me,” you plead. 

“We are not permitted to speak with you on the matter,” the other says to your frustration. That is not good enough. Regardless of how he sees you and how you feel, he is the one thing keeping you alive on this lifeless planet and you refuse to go about your days worrying over his safety and what his disappearance means for your fate.

You throw the sheets off your legs and stand. 

“I don’t care,” you spit as your silky nightgown falls at your ankles, but then you reconsider your tone. The harpies do not do well with aggression. Being so animalistic, their instincts are easily drawn out, and they tend to attack when attacked, which is not a fight you would win. 

You take a calming breath, placing a hand over your heart. “We are the same. He owns us, he clothes us, he feeds us,” you remind them. “On this planet, I am as much your sister as you are each other’s. We all care about him in a way and if I knew what happened to him, I would have the decency to tell you.”

The harpy who drew your bath returns to the bedroom. Having overheard your words, she crosses her arms and says, “With respect, my Lady, we are not your sisters,” she says. “We have never had him the way you have, and he does not feel for us the way he does you.” 

Your clenched jaw loosens, lips parting. If you had assumed anything about the relationship between Feyd-Rautha and his harpies, it was that they had once been where you are; that when you came along, they lost their rank and became something alike the handmaids from your home world. You’d assumed that when they warmed his bed, their handmaids were the women who entertained him before them, and so on like a disgusting, perverted pattern. But if that is not the case, then your sense of identity is even more confused. Not to mention, nary a soul has referred to you as ‘Lady’ since you were taken from your family. So why show that respect now when Feyd practically stripped you of the title months ago? 

You look to the only one of the three who seems unsure of the situation. She’s biting her lip, worrying the fabric of your unworn gown between her fingers. 

“What about you?” you ask her and her head lifts to meet your eyes. She’s the smallest of them—pixie-esque, like you read in fairytale stories as a child—and despite the core of their primal nature, the gentlest. “You want to tell me.”

The harpy by your vanity hisses, but the gentle one does not shy away at the warning. “She has been kind to us,” she tells her sister in the most self-assured tone you’ve ever heard leave her mouth. 

The sister snaps back. “He instructed us to do one thing: get her ready for the day and act like nothing is wrong. It was not to tell her what happened.”

You lightly gasp. “So something has happened,” you state, feeling your heartbeat quicken. Your chest begins to rise and fall to match the rapid rate. “Is he ok?”

There are a few seconds of silent pause before Pixie stands a little straighter, setting her shoulders in a strong line. “Our Lord na-Baron was answering for the death of his brother.”

Your head jerks back. “Rabban?” you question, your brow pinching. “Rabban is dead?”

“Yes, my Lady.”

“And Feyd is the one who killed him?” That doesn’t make any sense. While Feyd has complained enough for you to know Rabban is a bumbling idiot, he eventually found a way for his brother to serve a purpose. Why would he kill a man when he is no longer the nuisance he once was, you wonder, so you ask, “Why?”

“The Lord Rabban…made suggestions,” Pixie tells you. One of the harpies groans as the other shakes her head.

“What suggestions?”

She bites down and swallows hard, then she says, “He suggested that the na-Baron share you for his own pleasure.”

Instantly, you’re hit with a wave of nausea. Share? Share you? The concept of a foreign woman hopping between men of status is not unusual, but at this point, you assumed if Feyd were going to participate in something like that, he would have sent you off already. Not doing so didn’t even surprise you. He’s too possessive. 

“You said he was answering for Rabban’s death,” you say, but answering for that surely wouldn’t have taken so many hours, not when the Baron saw Rabban as a waste of space. “So where is he now?”

—

He doesn’t notice when you step into the training room and you’re thankful for that. You came on a mission to extract more answers out of him, but you don’t mind having a second to admire him sparing against his trainer. 

He’s sweaty. You like him sweaty—sweaty and bare-chested and perfectly, effortlessly mesmerizing as aggressive grunts leave his lips. You silently watch their violent dance, your form mouse-like by the door until his trainer looks up and halts to stare at you. Feyd whips around to follow his line of sight, then he sighs and turns back to the smaller man. He mutters something as he grabs the rag at his belt and runs it down his face. 

The trainer leaves and Feyd places his knife back on the table among many others. “I told them to keep you away today,” he says dully, monotone, not meeting your eyes as he runs his finger over the blade and fiddles with the hilt. “Incompetent brats.” 

“You didn’t come to bed.”

“I was busy,” he responds without letting a beat pass. He continues to avoid your stare and mess with the knives as if he’s never wielded them before.

You slowly step down the stairs into the pit of the room. “Busy killing your brother?” you ask. The muscles in his back twitch and flex under pale skin as he grips the hilt harder. 

“That is none of your concern.” The distance between you lessens until you’re a foot from his back, but he doesn’t turn around. 

“Even though you killed him because of me?” you ask. His neck ticks and his head tilts and shifts to adjust to the tension. When he still doesn’t respond, you try another angle. “Why are your harpies referring to me as their ‘Lady’?”

That seems to do it. Feyd faces you, crosses his arms, and leans his lower back against the table. “You think spending one night without me gives you permission to be nosy?”

You don’t give in to his method of shutting you up by aiming to make you feel silly and guilty. Instead, your eyes narrow and you mirror the crossing of arms. “Why am I a Lady again?”   

“You just are.”  

“Are you sending me home?”

His eyes flash. Blue irises darken a shade. “Don’t be stupid.”

“So I’m a Lady on Giedi Prime?” you ask, dropping your chin to emphasize how ridiculous that sounds. 

The edge of Feyd’s jaw sharpens as he clenches his back teeth. “Stop asking questions.”

“Then answer one,” you say. 

It’s a shot taken by an untrained hand, as he doesn’t enjoy demands, especially not from you, but you figure you have nothing to lose in the attempt, so you don’t cower under his menacing glare. You wait. And much to your surprise, he surrenders. 

He blinks, and when his eyes open, they have softened ever so slightly. Then he says, “You’re marrying me,” and everything from your lungs to your limbs freezes in shock. 

“W–What?” you stutter. That makes less sense than Rabban’s sudden death. 

Feyd groans and stands straight, his arms falling at his sides. “See what being nosy gets you?” he snaps. “I wasn’t going to tell you immediately, and you had to go and ruin it.”

He grabs a fresh knife and stomps his way over to a dummy, ready to attack something other than you for the insecurity that he can’t completely contain. You’ve never witnessed him insecure, but you know the feeling when you see it—the defense mechanism, the distancing himself, the grumbly attitude. 

“I’m not sure I understand,” you press as he slashes and stabs at the soulless victim. “I’m marrying you because you killed your brother for wanting to fuck me?”

With a grunt, the dummy’s head severs from its torso and flies off in your direction. It rolls and rolls and stops just before hitting your feet. The dead eyes stare up at you in silent amusement. Now you’ve done it, they mock.

“I don’t ever want to hear those words come out of your mouth again, do you understand me?” Feyd growls.

Your eyes shoot to his. “The marrying you part or The your brother fucking me part?”

He tosses the knife aside. It clatters against the ground as he closes in on you. His hand wraps around your neck. “Don't test me,” he grits out through clenched teeth. “I will sew your damn lips shut if I have to.”

An empty threat if you’ve ever heard one. He would never harm you, but even if he were going to try, his fingers would need to be squeezing much tighter.

You roll your eyes. “Well then how am I going to suck your cock?”

Something about the tease stuns him. His tense features immediately settle and his whole body eases with his exhale. Glancing at your lips, he licks his own, and you think he might decide to kiss you—after all, it’s been a good twenty-four hours since the last one—but he doesn’t.

You snort. “Didn’t think that one through, did you.”

Long fingers unwrap from around your neck. “You’re not funny,” he mumbles with an odd sense of shame.

“If you don’t find me entertaining, can you maybe take the time to explain all of this better?”   

Feyd considers keeping his mouth shut. You know him well enough to know that. However, it’s ridiculous to contemplate since he’s already spilled the bigger news. Nothing could be more shocking than you, after the bed-warming position you’ve held for months, becoming his wife. 

“My uncle was going to take you away from me for killing Rabban,” he finally says. “So I told him I've had plans to marry you for the alliance and that's why I refused to share you. Rabban wouldn’t take no for an answer, so he had to die.”

Raising a brow, you say, “The Baron accepted that explanation? My House may be one of the Greats, but we do not offer much for Giedi Prime.”

Feyd shrugs. “My uncle enjoys anything that causes upset. Marrying me means we will always own something very valuable to your family.”

It would likely offend another, but you don’t mind being owned. While the Baron may believe the Harkonnens as a whole will own you, you belong to Feyd and Feyd alone. He’ll never allow anyone to hurt you and now he’ll never have to fight or argue with anyone to stake his claim, which works for you just fine, to say the very least. 

“Thank you,” you say.

“For what?”

Your head tilts as you smile. “Caring enough to protect me.”

“Don't flatter yourself,” he says. “I didn't do it for you, I did it for my own benefit.”

Your sweet smile morphs into a smirk. “The benefit being that you get to keep me all to yourself…for the rest of your life.”

With a scoff, Feyd rolls his eyes and crosses his arms again. “Whatever.”

“Feyd…” you sigh, leaning into him.

“What?” he returns in his snarky tone as if he doesn’t want you near, but he doesn’t step out of the bubble of your space.

“I'm happy.”

A pink tinge sneaks onto his pale skin, and he quickly looks away. And before he has a chance to come up with some witty remark to smack you with, you grab his face and press your lips to his. 

You hold on to him until he starts to kiss you back, and then he's reaching for you, pulling you close, wrapping his arms around you, and you know you won't be going anywhere for a good long while.

[planetdream]

— 3:00 AM

smut [pussy eating. spit] 702 words.

💌 i love yeonjun. that's it.

Sleep isn’t in the forefront of your mind. It’s actually not in your mind at all. The only thing clouding your mind is Yeonjun. 

He presses soft, wet kisses against your inner thighs, alternating between licking and pecking at your flesh; occasionally his teeth grazes your skin, biting at your flesh just hard enough for there to be marks. Yeonjun is quite the tease normally, taking his precious time—this whole ordeal usually lasts a good thirty minutes before he even decides so much as to take a peek at your cunt, let alone taste it. His hands reaffirm their tight grip on the back of your thighs, spreading you open for him. 

The closer Yeonjun gets to your wetness, the more impatient you become, resulting in you driving your hips up just slightly out of neediness. The result is a swift slap at your thigh, but Yeonjun doesn’t even look at you, eyes fixated on a part of your left thigh that’s been unclaimed by love bites. He goes in for the kill, tongue warm against your inner thigh. He sucks against your skin, grazing his teeth down against your skin, but not too hard. He removes his mouth from you, licking the newly claimed spot once more before blowing cool air against it, making you shiver. 

Just as you arch your back, Yeonjun places his tongue flat against your cunt, licking an upward stripe before planting a small kiss at your clit. He moves his head back a bit, spitting down onto your cunt, tongue following suit to lick against your cunt once more. His nails piercing into your skin and the sting of it feels heavenly. His mouth is now against your cunt; plump lips puckering around your clit. 

Yeonjun allows himself to be messy, tongue dripping with your juices and his spit. He makes sure to taste all of you, even fucking his tongue into your hole, folding it slightly to slurp up your wetness. He moans into your cunt as he drinks from you. Eyes rolling to the back of his head in pleasure. Those same moans soon turn into warm vibrations of words. As if he’s trying to speak to you through your pussy. He laughs at the sound of your moans, lifting his head up briefly to smile and wink at you. 

It’s within an instant that your hand comes up to tug at his hair. You always try to be careful when it’s freshly dyed, but the second that Yeonjun feels your fingers against his scalp, his tongue swirls around your clit. Lips around it in an instant, focusing all his attention on the pearl, spit gushing around his mouth. 

Your thighs are weak, wobbling and daring to close; but Yeonjun maintains his grip on them, arms flexing as he continues to hold them in place. He begins to speak into your cunt again, trailing off into a little hum. His tongue swirling around your bud, he stops his humming to suck on your clit. Eyes rolling in pleasure, you let out a crackled moan, throat going dry. Yeonjun continues what he’s doing, letting your moans guide him through what you need. 

It happens quickly—your legs begin shaking, your grip on Yeonjun’s hair tightens before you let go completely; fists twisting at the sheets beneath you. You rock your hips into you Yeonjun’s mouth, slightly fucking into it. His lips release your clit, tongue sliding down to collect your cum, using his entire mouth to eat you sloppily. He slurps and moans, mouth and tongue covered in your wetness. 

Obscenities spill from your mouth as you watch him with hooded eyes. Yeonjun’s eyes, filled with lust, meet yours. In his daze, he peels his mouth from you, face coated in your juices. He leans over you, one arm holding him up. Two thick fingers tap twice against your jaw, and in return you open your mouth in acceptance. He spits onto your tongue, wanting you to taste yourself. His eyes gloss over and he watches you swallow what he gave you. 

He makes haste to take off his sweatpants. Cock hard and twitching, a small jump as the cool air hits it. “Want it?”

© PLANETDREAM 2024

[senualothbrok]

Mortal pleasures

Summary: Gale has shown you how gods bond in the astral. Now, you show him how good mortal pleasures can be.

Word count: 2.1k

AO3 link

Disclaimers: NSFW. 18+. Smut. Gale x female Tav/reader.

More disclaimers: Oral sex (blow job). Vaginal fingering.

A/N: This fic is long overdue, because I am a Gale-deserves-a-blow-job truther. Dedicated to @practicallydeadinside-blog who I love more than words can describe!

----------------------------------------------------

“And that’s how I got this baby.” Karlach smacks the scar on her right thigh with a grin. 

You nod absently. You can barely make out the jests that roar around your companions, their faces illuminated only by the campfire you huddle around on this spring night. Your focus is on him alone.

Gale’s gaze is sharp and hot, his lips curled in a sideways smile. He tilts his head ever so slightly. You do not move your eyes from him. It does not escape you, the dart of his tongue through the briefest parting of his mouth. You bite your lip.

Astarion coughs, slapping his knees as he rises. “And with that revolting tale, I think it’s time for us all to clear off.” 

“What?” Karlach whines. “Already? Boooo…”

“Take a hint, darling,” Astarion drawls. “I’ve had enough of whatever this is.” He makes a gesture of distaste towards you and Gale. 

You flush. Astarion chortles.

“Enjoy the magic, but please keep it down. We know how…verbose…the two of you can be.” 

You shrink at the winks, grumbles and jostling of the rest of your companions as they file away to their respective tents. It was wishful thinking to hope they were not aware of your time with Gale the night before, when your souls bonded in the astral. To think that they could not see how both of you had been transformed by the experience.

There is a chill in the air, but your core flames. There is no embarrassment in Gale’s eyes. Only the raw heat of desire.

“Alone at last,” he breathes.

Tonight, he is unusually quiet. He lets his actions speak. You barely make it to his tent. He wraps his arms around you from behind, unlacing the straps of your bodice with uncanny speed. Your struggle for breath as his deft fingers clutch at your breasts, your shoulders, your hips. You have been waiting all day for this moment. To be with him, to have him all to yourself. To give yourself to him again. 

You grind backwards against his thrumming body, aching for more of his touch. He clasps your chin to angle your neck back, as if he is starving to see your face. Your tongues glide against each other, frantic with hunger, a frenzy of moans. He tastes sweet and strong, like aged wine, and you cannot get enough. You can never have enough of him. 

“I didn’t lie,” you whisper when you break apart to breathe. “You’re a good kisser.”

He smiles against your lips before he plunges back in, lapping eagerly at your wet warmth. You are drunk from his musk, the sourness of sweat, the smoothness of sandalwood. You are not careful as you whip open his robe, shoving his sleeves down his arms, pushing them desperately down. You need to see him. You need to feel and smell and taste every inch of his quivering flesh. 

He lets out a little laugh, surprised, not displeased. Then, with one swift motion, he wrenches your breeches off your quaking legs. You gasp at the force of it, the smouldering in his eyes. His fingers dive behind your panties, already damp with desire. He almost rips them off.

“I want to show you more,” he pants. “Everything you could possibly imagine. Let me show you.”

A crackle of blue thread sizzles between his fingers. A spasm of bliss tears through you like lightning, sending you gasping for breath. You burn for more of it. But you steel yourself. 

Since your night together, you have not been able to get the idea out of your mind. You have been ravenous for it. And now is your chance.

You pull back.  

“No.”

Gale falters, the blue light of his magic fading into the purple of his glowing chest. You press against him again, licking at his bottom lip, gently sucking it into your mouth. He buckles against you.

“No?” 

You smile, teasing but resolute. 

“Yesterday, you showed me how to bond the way gods do.”

Your hand trails down his abdomen, following the hairs that meander from his navel to his groin. His breath hitches. He hangs on your every word, your every move. You are not a wizard or a sorcerer, but he is under your spell.

“Today, I want to show you how good mortal pleasures can be.”

His eyes flash. Before he can object, you push him downwards and back, so that he is reclined on his bed roll. Uncertainty blinks across his features as you pull his briefs down to expose the thrust of his cock. You clench your thighs as a string of moisture trickles from your folds.

He stares at you on your knees by his side. You lean forward, taking hold of his shaft, so thick and long in your small hands. Dark pink and purpling, veins drifting down to a wiry nest framed by the muscles of his lean thighs. You wet your lips. His cock pulses in your fingers, a bead spilling from its tip as he exhales sharply.  

“Gods,” he heaves.

You bend over. You are acutely aware of the way his body is suspended in the anticipation of pleasure. You can feel it vibrate, chasing after your touch. The tent is awash in his purple flame. You flare with yearning as you flick your tongue into his slit, gathering this first trace of his salty sweetness. He arches his back and groans.

“Has anyone ever done this to you?” 

Your tongue traces a slow, winding stripe down the underside of his cock. He trembles. You look up at him, mouth open, eyes wide and expectant.

He swallows. “A long time ago. Once, when I was very young. It was…quick. Clumsy. Messy.”

You suspected this might be the case. There was no way Mystra would have ever lowered herself to give Gale such a human gift, and you cannot imagine Gale asking any lover for such raw, unbridled ecstasy.  It makes you even more desperate. You want nothing more than to give this to him now.

“We’ll rectify that.”

You drag your tongue in a smooth circle at the base of his cock. He stifles a whine as his hips roll closer to your mouth. Gale’s longing is so palpable that it throbs wet and hot within you. But when you look up, he is frowning. He reaches towards you. 

“My love,” he huffs. “You really don’t need to-”

You anticipated this. Gale prides himself on giving, not receiving. He never asks, for fear of being turned away. He cannot fathom that anyone would get on their knees to show him their adoration. That anyone would ache to give him this most mortal of pleasures.

“I want to, Gale.” 

You take his straying hand and run your mouth over his palm. His eyelids flutter as your tongue flickers softly over the pads of his fingers. 

“I want to taste you. I want to show you how good this feels. Please let me show you.”

It is not completely selfless. You have been dreaming of doing this to Gale since you shared a moment in the Weave. You enjoy this act much more than he knows. He will find out just how much you enjoy it.

He grasps for a response and fails. For an instant, you savour the sight of Gale rendered speechless by your designs. Then you resume your position, your face tilted upwards beside his growing hardness. You can see him unravelling at the sight of it resting against your cheek, hovering beside the shining plumpness of your lips. His brown eyes are almost black, dilated in a stupor of need. 

“Or does this not feel good?”

He lets out a guttural moan as you slide his cock into your mouth. Your lips tighten around his girth as you roll your tongue around its head. You pump forward and backwards, once, twice, three times. With each stroke, waves of molten heat blaze through your centre, your clit swelling against your folds as you rock. Moisture trails down your chin as you draw back and look up at him.

“Do you like that?” 

The sound that escapes his lips is a muffled plea. His face is flushed, helpless, urgent. 

You grin. His back bows as you take him back inside you. You take your time, drawing out his pressure points, feeling for the rhythm of his pleasure. The slick sounds of you lapping and sucking at his cock fill the tent as you drive his length deeper and faster into you. Something about these wet, gulping noises makes you suddenly, overwhelmingly voracious.

“By the gods…”

You cannot decipher all the words that start tumbling from Gale now. You glide hungrily down to the hilt of his cock, thrusting it against the back of your mouth. Small bursts of his pleasure trickle down your throat like nectar as he shifts and sighs. Every blast of his yearning pools like lava in your belly. You whimper into his shaft, your hips grinding down into the bedroll, searching frantically for release.

As the storm surges within you, you realise that his groans are growing louder and closer together. You can feel him hardening, stretching your jaw with each tremor of your arousal. He fills you up so completely, there is almost no space for breath. You are famished, gorging yourself on him. 

You are abruptly aware of urgent fingers pressing between your thighs, demanding entrance. You sit up, turning to face him.

“Allow me,” he rasps.

You shake your head, trying to push his hand away. He does not budge.

“Please. Can you not tell what your pleasure does to me?” His gaze is ravenous. “Let me. Please.”

It was not your intention to allow it. You were to give and not receive. But you are powerless to resist as his fingers nestle into your gleaming folds. When he finds your throbbing clit, you crumple against him. His groin rises to meet you, his cock twitching at your undoing. You suck him back into your mouth with a needy cry.

You do not need a tadpole to know each other’s feelings now. You can taste the hardness of his desire, as he can feel the wetness of yours.

You shudder against each other as the world becomes a chaos of purple spasms. All you know is the whirling of your tongue around the head of his cock as he traces frenzied circles around the centre of your fire. A hot stream of slick melts between your thighs as he bucks against you. You can no longer distinguish between his moans and yours.

As his fingers flutter in their maddening dance, your mouth quickens to match his speed. You are aware of his muscles tightening as you grind against his hand, rubbing at every coiled nerve until it is ready to snap. Your whines are muffled vibrations against his skin. He lurches and keens as you lap and slide up and down his shaft with increasing fury, pushing you closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy.

Then the ache within you explodes. 

The world shatters into blinding shockwaves of white heat. It is all you can do to keep your mouth wrapped tightly around his swelling cock, your only anchor as you drown in the searing surges of your pleasure. As you writhe through the aftershocks, you feel a convulsion down his chest, snapping through his hips, jolting at the back of your throat. 

He shouts out a strangled sound, his toes curling, his free hand clinging to the side of the bedroll. You quiver as the taste of Gale fills your mouth. You swallow each rush of his delight as he rides out the peak of his climax, his features twisting in the beautiful anguish of release.

You remain in that position as your breathing returns to normal. Slowly, your vision clears. His cock is still half hard and glistening as you part from it. You brush away drops of his spend from your lips and chin as you sit up, steadying yourself. 

He looks up at you from where he lies panting, his tousled waves a tumble around his head. His face is radiant with passion. His chiselled abdomen heaves with the exhaustion of bliss. The mark on his chest glows a muted violet.

“That was…”

He has no words for the experience. His gaze is bright with awe, gratitude, adoration. Swollen with love. It glints with desire, still pure and unquenched.  

You beam. “That’s how mortals do it.” 

He pulls you into his arms with a throaty laugh.

----------------

Liked this fic? Check out my other work.

[shanefuckingscott]

Jealous!SheriffGrayson 🎀🎀🎀

Grayson is jealous, and you find ways to make it up to her. 👮🏽‍♀️

Warning: Angst with comfort, Smut, Marcus 🤢, Sad Grayson, Cunnilingus, Over stimulation, Strap use, Switch!Grayson, Switch!reader, Not proofread

🚫Men and Minors DNI🚫

You and Grayson finally established a relationship after only 3 months of dating. She's at the age where she doesn't need much courting, but she'll gladly court you for as long as you want. But you don't make her wait too long before you finally said yes, and with that, she's yours, and you're hers.

Your relationship remains professional, and a secret during work to keep people from gossiping, and to keep her from losing her position. Only you, and some close friends know about your relationship, but your friends at work? You don't tell them. After a few of your colleagues gave you flirty comments, and shitty attempts to ask you out, because they thing you easy, she's suddenly thinking she isn't planning on keeping you secret for long, already planning a proposal to you, so you can get married, and people know you're hers.

She trusts you with all her heart. She's not even easily jealous, but the flirting has been getting too much for her. At first, she'd just scold them for being 'distracted' during work hours. Which was admittedly hypocritical of her, since she too was distracted because of you. Everytime she sees Marcus get a little too close to you, since he thinks you finally lose your crush on Grayson, he's been flirting with you tenfold now.

Grayson does not like this, one bit. The way Marcus' eyes linger on you for far too long. The way he winks at you, everytime you make eye contact with him, it makes her cringe, and pisses her off. "Marcus, in my office. Now." She demands. Often times she'd scold him of being distracted. Or make him take a walk outside. Or make him have his shifts when you finally get your break. But of course, she can't be too mad at him. He did have the right to ask you for lunch, but he doesn't have the right to outright flirt, and touch you.

You try your best to ignore him, he can't take no for an answer. You of course, reassure Grayson, when he does step out of line, and you can't do anything about it. He already tried breaking you once, and you don't want him to find out that you and Grayson are finally together, he might pull some shit.

You and Grayson both sigh in bed, to figure out what you're gonna do with it. Grayson can't just arrest him, or make him transfer somewhere else. She's quiet all night, looking at the ceiling. You pull her closer to you, as you sit up to look at her. "Are you alright, dear? You seem awfully quiet tonight." You saying, taking her hand, and giving it kisses from her knuckles, to her shoulders. She gives you a soft smile, for it to fall again, and she looks down. "My love... If you weren't with me, would you date Marcus?" She asked, her voice breaking. That question shook you. Grayson is an amazing woman, far greater than any man, or woman that courted you. You cup her cheek, your thumb rubbing the flesh under her eye, and make her look at you. She looked like she was about to cry.

"My love, what kind of question is that? That's ridiculous. There is no other person I'd want to be with. No one. Only you. You're far greater than any of them, you're speaking nonsense" You hush her, and wipe her tears away, as you comfort you wife from her thoughts that seemed to have consumed her. "You don't understand. Do you know how hard it is to see someone else look at you the way only I could? I'm sorry, dove, it's just, he's much younger than me. Don't you wanna be with someone your own age?" She asks with tears in her eyes.

The sight of her like this breaks you. Who knew the perfect woman in your eyes thought of herself like that. Like she was the one out of your league. You didn't know that all this time, that she had her own fears. She has her own insecurities. You look at her with tears in your eyes, and you pull her head onto your chest, and pull her in for a tight hug.

You're both crying messes now. She isn't supposed to feel this way, she isn't supposed to feel like there's someone else, other than her.

No. You're not going to make her feel like this for long. You're going to make this up to her. You sniffle and you pull away from Grayson a little bit. You give her a soft smile, as you look into her eyes. "No, Gray. You're perfect. And you wanna know the best part? You're mine. And I'm all yours. No one in this world makes me feel like you do. No one. You'll all I want, Grayson. And I'm going to prove it." You say. You wipe her tears, and kiss her face. You get off her lap, and you get into the blanket. This action surprised her, and confused her a little, until she finally got a grasp of what you were doing.

"I'm going to make you feel like the best woman in the world, my love." You say, as you go down on her. You take her boxers off, and you spread her legs. She lets out low and breathy moans, as you take a long stripe of her cunt. You can feel her shiver, and she let's out a whimper. "Oh, my love, I love you so much" She says to you, combing your hair with her hand, as she takes control of the pace.

you stick your tongue out, and let her fuck herself with your tongue, she throws her head back, and you smile while licking, and sucking on her clit, her moans getting louder and deeper, her breath getting faster and faster, "Right there love, I'm close" She says, pumping your head up and down, as she gets closer to her climax. Your tongue keeps working on your wife, and you can feel her tense up.

"F-fuck, I'm almost gonna—" Her grip on your hair got tighter, as her grinds on your tongue, getting slower, she let put a breathy moan, and it sounded like music to your ears, She had tears in her eyes, and you kept your tongue on her, going slow. At this point she was feeling a little over stimulated, as you keep licking her core, she's panting her breath, her face tuning a shade of red from the pressure, and thee silkiness of your tongue. She attempts to pull away, the feeling getting a bit too much, but you look at her, and grab her waist, and start licker her faster again.

Her face scrunched, mouth wide open, her eyes closing, she feels close again. Kept eating her out, as she attempts to pull back, you pull her back in, she's grinding and grinding, your face now soaked in her juices, her body rocked, as she came in your mouth, her body was shaking, her eyes shut, and she threw her head back.

You licked her clean, and she was still a little shakey. You were about to grab a towel, when she pulled you back, and pulled you into a deep kiss, Her hands on your waist, and yours on her shoulder, as you pull on her hair slightly. She puller your shirt off, and she took off hers, as she started sucking, and playing with your tits. You moaned, and pulled her closer to your chest, as she moves her hands on your ass, and flipped you over. "Hmm, Sheriff~" You moan, and she gets back up to suck and nibble on your ear. "Hmm, you're mine?" she asks. You could feel the vibrations of her voice, as she leans in, and sucks on your neck. You whimper by that action, she knows where your sweet spots are, and she isn't afraid to explore them all. "A-all yours, baby. All y-ours!! You say as you whine.

She stood up to put on her harness, and she stands there with a purple 8inch cock. She snickers, and makes her way to you. "God princess, you make me feel young again, you know that?" She teases in your ear, and you smile at her. Your smile immedietly turned into an 'O' face, as she fills you up with her dick, and she slowly thrusts inside you. She's looking at you with a satisfied look in her eye, as she bites her lip. She puts her mouth on yours, as her tongue makes her way into your mouth. You suck on her tongue, as you moan, and your eyes struggle to stay open. She smiles through the kiss, and sher thrusts are getting faster and harder.

You feel a knot in your stomach, that's when you know you feel close. Your wails getting louder as you moan her name. She's pounding you so deep, you're taking all of her in at once. Your body feeling tense, you whip your head back, your face full of bliss, as she pounds and pounds into you, her small moans, turning you on even more. You pull her into your chest, as you feel a surge of pleasure, and ecstacy run through you, your body convulsing, your body hunching over, as you wail through your orgasm.

Only she can make you feel this way. You lose your mind, she fuck you so good. You pull her into a passionate kiss, your body feels calmer now, your breath still hitching, you pull away to catch your breath. She thrusts a little more in you, before she pulls out, and collapses on top of you.

You both catch your breath. You held her closer to your chest with one hand, and played with her hair on the other. You kiss her hair, and you smile at her. "I love you, Grayson." you tell the older woman. She looked up at you, and smiled. "I love you too, my love."

You both talked things through on what to do with Marcus, and within a couple months, she proposed to you. You make your relationship public now, and Marcus backs off, since now, you are engaged to your one true love. Of course you still have to act professional at work, but you keep a picture frame of the both of you on your desk. Now when someone tries and flirt with you, you just show them your ring, and go to your fiancé.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

This one's a roller coaster, huh? Fluff, angst, and smut, heh. Next fic about Grayson, I kinda wanna write some Domestic!Grayson a little more. Or some Jealous!Sevika with smut hehe. what do you think?

Also, here was the comment that requested this heh, hope it's to your liking! @fuzzyautumninmetal

[writtenbymoonflower]

okay!! if you’re stilly up for smutty reqs, i have one! with james or peter or whoever you think fits best <3

secretly shy!reader who is generally outgoing and confident, but she loses that confidence in one-on-one interactions with her love interest. and her almost-not-quite boyfriend is always very sweet and doting until he gets her alone, and he can’t really resist bullying her a little for being secretly shy. “bullying” meaning dominant and teasing, ofc <3

Hi gorgeous! this doesn't have smut but it's implied at the end, hope that's okay! tasm!peter parker x fem!reader

500 words

“Sorry it took me so long, it’s like the mall at Christmas out there.” Peter groaned, setting his drink down on his chest of drawers. He shut the door behind him, muffling the blaring bass of the music that was playing in the main part of the house. 

“Don’t worry about it.” You sat up properly, pretending you weren’t half asleep before he came in. In your defense, his bed was really comfortable, perfectly soft, piled with pillows and warm blankets (and it smelled like him, but you weren’t going to linger on that particular comfort for long). 

He smiled at you in the boyish way he always did, but the effect it had on you was amplified in your solitude. You looked away as he stalked forward, flopping down on his bed next to you and looking up at you with his big brown eyes. “Hi there.”

“Hi to you too.” You played with your fingers. His hand found your thigh and you tried not to shiver. 

“How are you doin’, babe.” There was an edge of teasing in his tone that made your cheeks heat.

“‘M okay.” You said as he smoothed his hand up and down your leg, squeezing your hip affectionately. 

“Got nothing to say now?” He was smiling something wicked and waggling his brows at you. “You had a lot to say earlier.” If you were feeling more bold you would say something like ‘I would respond if you were saying something interesting’ but you couldn’t get the words off your tongue. He cooed at you in a way that made you turn to ash on the spot. You groaned, falling back against his pillows. 

“You’re so mean.” You covered your face. 

“I’m mean?” He scoffed. “What makes you say that, sweet thing?” 

“You know why.” You said from behind your hands. 

“Not sure I do,” He started to crawl on top of you, caging you underneath him. Your stomach started to heat. “Think I’m gonna need you to tell me.” You shook your head. He laughed evilly, reveling in your embarrassment. This was his favorite game, and your most hated. Though some part of you, deep in your core, loved it. And to your demise, he knew.

 His hand slid up your waist, feeling the flesh there before grabbing both your wrists in his one hand to uncover your warm face. “C’mon, baby. Talk to me.” He chuckled. You shook your head again. 

“You’re enjoying this too much.” You whispered. 

“I won’t argue with that.” He smiled down at you. “But I can think of something I would enjoy a lot more. ‘Think that you would too.” He winked. You groaned and tried to wrestle your hands back to cover your face. He just laughed at you. “Okay fine, I’ll be nice. You’ll be speaking up soon, anyway.” He gave you a knowing look before sitting back on his knees, looking at you like he was about to eat you. 

He was right, soon you were much louder.

[kairiscorner]

OKOK BUT

Jealous!Miguel stealing your attention only because you told Ben Reilly he has nice muscles 😭

You know that dude, when he's jealous, makes it clear that you only belong to his *wink wink*

AGHHHHHHH i live for jealous miggy for real

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

yeah, i'm... just a jealous guy, so what? — jealous!miguel o'hara x reader

miguel was at his wit's end, hearing you giggle as the blonde, buff-oon of a spider man was entertaining you with his muscles, that miguel was very certain that he had beat in every aspect possible. he didn't mean to brag–he honestly wouldn't care in a normal setting–but objectively speaking, his muscles and figure was far more superior than that of ben reilly's.

he respected ben, both as a spider man and a person, though he couldn't bear the thought of you–one of his only real friends and someone with a decent, functioning brain in the entire spider society–entertaining the blonde boy by giggling along, praising him, and running your fingers and hands over his biceps and muscles. ben dared not to show his true, flustered self as he kept 'accidentally' flexing at you, making you chuckle even more–annoying miguel even more, because... he should be the one making you all embarrassed, flustered, and giggly with his own much thicker biceps and muscles.

"it's just... so stupid." he muttered to himself as lyla chuckled. "gonna challenge ben to a flex off?" she sarcastically asked miguel, who–for a hot minute–ironically considered the notion, but ultimately decided against it with the shake of his head. "no, no need. i'll get over it." he said as a low grumble, which lyla raised her eyebrow at. "oh, will you, now?" she asked him with a hint of mockery, which made miguel snarl a little and sigh loudly. "you'll see." he declared with some spite in his tone.

he did not move on from it, not one bit actually.

it was driving miguel insane, because every moment he caught you that day to catch up and talk, he always caught you with ben–watching him entertain you yet again with him 'coincidentally' stretching and flexing those muscles he was so proud of but always played them off coolly when you happened to come by and... stare at him showing off.

this was it, this was the final straw–he had to prove to you once and for all just who you fold to, who makes you so flustered with a simple gaze your way with those piercing hazel (sometimes red) eyes of his–who made you want to have more and more of him and wouldn't be ashamed to get on your knees, or on all fours if he commanded you to, and beg for him to love you all evening into the early hours of the dawn. he had to show you who loved you, and who you loved endlessly.

when you entered miguel's office to report back to him on the statuses of some anomalies he needed word back on immediately. though when you entered the room, the atmosphere felt... entirely different now. you searched for miguel here and there since he wasn't there up on his platform, nor was he anywhere where the small pools of light touched the walls and floors of his office–he wasn't there, at least, not in front of you yet.

"you called, querida?" he asked you as he placed his larger palms on your smaller shoulders, feeling up your flesh gently and letting out low breaths as he got closet to you. your back felt his chiseled abdomen pressing against you, his pectoral muscles being pushed against your shoulders. you shuddered and felt your face get a little heated. you tried turning around to tell miguel you had the reports he was asking for, but it was a little hard to do with him pressing against you like this.

you finally turned around and pulled away from his grasp, but when you did... you were taken aback by the sight. he was completely shirtless, showing off his sculpted upper body, the curves and bulging of his arm muscles and built abdomen, and the only thing he was wearing was a flimsy pair of boxers that... looked a little thin from where you were standing. you gulped at the lump in your throat and tried to ignore the heat in the walls of your throat as you faced him with an embarrassed expression. you hurriedly handed him the report and tried to get away from him, but he blocked you in your tracks and looked down at you with darkening eyes.

"what's the rush, cariño? run me through these... one-by-one." he asked of you, which sounded more like a demand for you to stay, really, as he moved closer to you while you backed away–backing yourself up against a desk and being pinned against the wall by miguel as he loomed over you and stared you down.

"again, cariño... what's wrong? you gotta run me through these all... now tell me, what's the status on these anomalies?" he asked you as he gently ran his hand over your arm and raised an eyebrow again and involuntarily flexed his arm muscles by pinning his arm against the wall you were nearly backed into if not for the desk in between you two.

"y'better start talking, bella, or else... i might just make you talk myself." he said with a lower, sultry voice as he brought his face even closer to yours, your noses brushing together, and him hearing you whimper a little as he took your smaller hand in his own, bringing it to his abs. "what, cat got your tongue? that's not the little sweetheart i know... c'mon, say something." he encouraged you as you whimpered again and finally mustered the words to utter to him. "...you're... kinda big..." "kinda?" "v-very big..." you blurted out, all flustered as miguel leaned in closer, smiling, about to plant a kiss on your luscious lips. "how sweet..." he muttered as he kissed your lips gently, buttering you up before he shows you how much he's craved your attention before making you desperate for his attention soon enough.

you're in for the long haul this time... before the night ends, all your love and attention will all be on him, and only him–nobody else, just him and his body–and how his face contorts into a wide grin when he sees you stammer, eyes wide, and fluster over how much of a grip he has on you with those muscles he's got. maybe you'll spend the rest of the day with miguel tomorrow, hmm? ben and everyone else can wait... but miguel certainly can't.

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @binibinileonara @hisachuu @wreakingmarveloushavok @fictarian @yuridopted0 @simsrandomstuff @luvstarrstruck @popeheywardssecretgf @meeom @arachnoia @melovetitties @fable-library @ophanimgold @smokeywhalee @capnshtfce

[apclyptc]

TWO SIDES OF THE SAME COIN— chris ver.

foreword: please read the first part linked here! it kinda makes sense without but not really so i’d read part one first. the matt version is also linked on that post so if u wanna read that one, head there!

warnings: making out, grinding, handjob, fondling of the upper chest area wink wink nudge nudge, cum eating, slight jealousy from chris if you squint

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

“i pick… chris.” you glanced at him to find him smirking, as if he knew his name would come out of your mouth.

it intimidated you slightly, knowing whatever was going to happen in these next ten minutes was going to change your entire friendship thus far.

“oh great, just what we needed. everyone get your earplugs ready.” nate teased, causing others to giggle.

everyone knew chris had no shame when it came to pda.

“okay so just go upstairs and pick a room, as long as it’s not mine. i don’t want you two messing up my bed.” nate half-joked, pointing upstairs.

“bet.” chris spoke, grabbing your hand and taking you up.

maybe he was just putting up a front to everyone else, to play along with the game.

but you knew him better than that, he never put up a front to anybody.

as soon as your hand pushed the handle of the door open, chris turned you around and immediately connected his lips to yours.

there was barely any time to react, once he had shut the door behind him, he was on you, pulling your hips into him, hands on the small of your back.

briefly, he pulled away to speak.

“i’ve wanted this for a while. but you knew that, didn’t you?”

you may have had a small feeling. it wasn’t always there, and it took you some time to figure it out, but the lingering stares–and touches that lasted a little longer than they should– gave it away.

“yes…” you replied hesitantly.

“all those times you were at the house, flirting with my brother, wearing those clothes. you know what you do to me, don’t you?” he brought his face closer to yours, noses practically touching.

“don’t you?” he repeated, hinting for you to answer.

“y-yes.” why were you so nervous? it was like you were unsure of your own responses, stuttering like a schoolgirl being reprimanded by a teacher.

“hey, you don’t need to be so shy. if you don’t want this, you let me know.” he stroked your cheek gently, but the hunger in his eyes was still ever present, looking down at your plump, wet lips.

you definitely wanted this, that much was true.

all you had to do was push through the drumming of your heart at the feeling of his warm hands on your body.

“i do want it… let me show you how much.” you kissed him with all the passion you could summon, licking into his mouth. chris pulled you up by your thighs, walking you to the bed at the other side of the room.

he sat you both down, not allowing you to break from the kiss you shared, growing sloppier by the second. you gyrated your hips into his lap when his hands moved down to grope your ass, guiding you over his clothed dick. you felt it beneath you, bigger than you anticipated, but it didn’t shock you.

“can you feel what you do to me now?” he broke away to catch his breath, a hand moving from your behind to snake up your shirt. he took a tit in his hand, squeezing the mound of flesh.

“is that an invitation?” you allowed your own hand to venture down into the small space between you, copying the pressure he had on your boob, and a sharp intake of breath left his mouth.

“your choice, baby. we only have ten minutes, you think you can finish what you’ve started?” his hips made a single thrust further into your palm.

“only one way to find out.” chris helped you shimmy his pants halfway down his legs, and you tucked his underwear underneath his balls.

watching his cock spring free from the confines of his boxers almost made your mouth water.

considering the fact there wasn’t a lot of time left, you didn’t want to waste any of it ogling at the perfection of his dick, the way it curved oh so slightly, the long thick vein protruding on its side. you didn’t have the time to think about how much you wanted to feel it in places so deep that you couldn’t walk straight for days.

from the moment you gripped the base of his impressive cock, adding pressure in the right places, making him pant with such a simple action, you knew this would not be the last time you were in such a position with chris.

you began slowly, stroking him lazily as you watched him intently. he looked at you with such desperation that it sent shivers down your spine.

when he brought his lips to your neck, sucking over the spot where his own brothers lips had been, that was when you picked up your pace.

chris moaned into your collarbone, biting lightly to attempt to muffle himself, with little success.

“shit, feels so good, y/n.” he mumbled into your skin. the satisfaction you received from his words only boosted your confidence. it was you who was making him squirm, you who was giving him pleasure. it was you who he’s wanted for so long.

god, if you’d had more time, you’d be on your knees for him, looking up at him while you took his whole dick in your mouth. the dampness of your panties made you well aware of how badly you wanted that.

“keep going, fuck, i’m already gonna cum.” he breathed out. chris couldn’t help but rut into your hand when your thumb grazed over his tip.

you were so lost in the moment you almost didn’t hear the knocking on the bedroom door. but you did, just barely.

you stopped what you were doing, hearing nate’s voice.

“times up, chris.” he teased, but he didn’t care.

“fuck off nate, five more minutes.” he replied, and then spoke to you, “don’t stop, baby. ignore him.”

and you continued, despite the wave of embarrassment that had seeped into your brain.

chris reconnected his lips to yours, his tongue practically fucking your mouth as he tried to prolong the moment between you. but try as he might, there was no way he could hold back any longer. he pulled away, his mouth hanging open as he came, his seed spurting out all over your hand.

you slowly milked him dry, stopping when he whined at the overstimulation.

“holy fuck, y/n.” he finally said.

“so i’m guessing that was good for you?” you giggled, taking your hand up to your mouth and licking off the cum dripping off your fingers.

“more than good. come over later? i wanna return the favour.” he smirked, willing himself not to get hard all over again at the sight of you tasting him, forcing himself not to scoop up his own cum and push a finger into your mouth.

“happy to. now what are we gonna say when we go back down there?” you asked, remembering that you were in fact, in nate’s house, where all of his friends were waiting for you downstairs.

“don’t bother, we could all hear you.” nate’s voice was heard from behind the door.

damn.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

a/n holy fucking shit this took so long for me to write like i just could not get into my writing groove AT ALL. i really hope this was worth the wait because christ on a bike this was such sloppy writing from me.

anyway, i have another chris idea imma write. but i hear you asking for more matt stories in my asks, so ill try put on my thinking cap for some matt stories. if you have any you want me to write, let me know!!

© APCYLPTC 2023. do not repost, translate, or duplicate any of my works here or any other websites.

[trashmouth-richie]

eddie x Fem! Reader

honey I’m home masterlist

TW: 18+ hospitals, trauma, crying, etc

A/N: this is a short little chapter. the next one will be longer— thank you for hanging onto this story even though it took me forever to get it started. I have most of the next chapter done so it’ll probably be posted next week.

The blue and red lights are blinking in rapid succession. Painting the curtains in washes of ruby and royal. 

  The sirens should have been loud but Eddie figured it was the blood trickling down his head and into his ear canal that was preventing him from hearing clearly. 

  He fought with the first responders. 

  Fought with the people fussing over him and trying to rush him into an ambulance. 

  He refused to leave you. 

  He didn’t need to be cared for. 

  He didn’t care about anything. 

  Only you.

  Mr. Derry’s loud knock and burst through the door was the exact distraction needed for Eddie to grip the bat in his bloody hand. 

  Rings squeezing tight around blood and the wooden handle, he swung hard. A suddenly athlete in a smokers body. He felt the thuds and friction vibrating in his forearms when the nailed head connected with flesh. But he didn’t stop until there were two crumpled bodies collapsed on the red stained carpet. 

  And when the ambulance crew met him at the door, gurney ready, you were wrapped tight in his arms. A faint pulse echoed like a whisper against your skin. Eddie’s tears streaming down his face and onto yours. 

  His promise pressed delicately to your lips.

—

  “What have we got?” 

  “According to the patient’s friend, she is twenty-one-year, sir! you need to be looked at, and lived by herself for the past few months..” 

  I’m fine! Jesus— get off me and help her! 

  “…call came in at 2208 from a Mr. William Derry— the neighbor— claiming there were screams coming from across the street of his residence on Cherry Lane. Dispatch didn’t think to respond right away due to the many calls Mr. Derry has submitted to the Police Department.”

  “Sir, I am not telling you again, you need to be checked out!” 

  “Jesus Christ.”

  “When nobody showed up, the neighbor went across the street after hearing more screaming. Patient was held up by her throat by the DOA”

  “Bill has him in truck 011, ID found on the body confirmed he was Chad Cunningham.” 

—-

Eddie is standing before you, looking the same has he did the morning g after Halloween. It’s similar but different. There’s more light in the kitchen, and he is rosy cheeked like a cherub, his movements almost floating like angel wings as he moves the carton of orange juice hp to his lips, small glints of a silver nipple ring peaking out from the cutoff shirt he wore. 

  When he speaks, it’s like a harp is playing, all song and beautiful notes, extending and echoing around the room. 

  “So when do I get this trophy sweetheart?” He says with a grin, “thinking of putting on a shelf in my room,” 

  Your laugh feels like butterflies tickling your stomach, “you can’t be serious.” 

  His head dips as he walks towards you, smile displaying the prettiest teeth, “damn straight, want the whole town to know I had the best costume!”

  “Stolen costume,”

  “Pppffft, I just borrowed it.” the wink he delivers is almost sinful, toothachingly sweet enough to give a dentist a cavity, and you melt on the spot. 

— 

“Miss? Can you tell us your name? Can you tell us anything?” 

  Sterile. 

  Chemical.

  You were either in a hospital or a morgue. You didn’t feel any pain so it very likely could be the worst of the two options. Whatever you were laying on was cold. And when you tried to move you found you couldn’t. 

  Is this death?

  Eyelids heavy and unable to cooperate and make the connection with your brain on flicking open so you could see what was happening. 

  The only thing constant was a buzzing in both ears. A tug along your eyelids and rubber glove fingers on your body. But you were trapped in your mind, unable to speak, to scream, to show any physical movements other than the involuntary rise and fall of your chest and your lungs being filled with oxygen, fed through flexible plastic of the oxygen mask placed on your face. 

  Oblivious to your surroundings. 

  “Severe trauma to both eyes, laceration to the back of the head, severe swelling and possible damage to the larynx, Katerina, what did the CT show?” 

  “CT came back clear, X-Ray showed a break to both zygomatic bones, 5th and 6th ribs and a lacerated spleen…”

  “Look at her nails, poor thing fought for her life,” 

  “they both did.” 

  You found the will to whisper what you needed to tell them. Voice hoarse and barely audible, removing the mask they look in horror back at your words, and  immediately the feeling of warm liquid entering your veins and the blur of sleep covers your body. 

—

  He visits you again, this time you know it’s a dream. The pink clouds flow behind his head even though you are standing in the living room. But it’s different, blurred on the edges, hazy sweet and refined. How heaven could be described. 

  “I look good in this don’t even lie,” Eddie says with a spin, the white cotton of your robe resembling a mini skirt on his long legs, “but if you want me to take it off all you have to do is ask, I’m a pleaser, baby.”

  He was every version of himself, handsome, gross and menacing. Sweet and caring, eye twinkling, soft voiced: Eddie. The beer taped to his hand like it was all those months ago when you splashed him awake, threatening to kick him out. 

  Delivering his classic one liners that you now knew helped fuel your love for him. 

  “What? Hair of the dog baby, gotta keep drinking to avoid a hangover.”

  And maybe your love for him was always there. 

  Showing up in the background, fluttering bird wings of your heart before you even noticed. 

  Developing into something sweeter, deeper, so heartbreakingly sick it took a disaster and almost the last pulse in your veins for you to be able to admit it. 

  -

Steve had been pacing the cream colored tiles for over thirty minutes. The squeak of his Nikes against the floor were something Eddie was trying hard to focus on instead of worrying about you in the ICU, but so far it wasn’t working.

  The nasal cannula was annoying, he could breathe fine on his own. The stitches in his eyebrow itched and stung with each weave through his skin, pulled taut around the swelling in his face. 

  The shot the nurses had administered to calm him down after screaming and trying to fight his way to you, was making his mind fuzzy— still, Steve’s pacing kept him company. Step step step squeak, step step step hand in hair, followed by an agitated huffing breath.

  A nurse with a long blond ponytail braided down her back opens the polyester curtain with a drag and slips inside the room. A black rubber and steel stethoscope around her neck, before she could introduce herself Steve exploded with fury. 

  “Tell me what the hell is going on in this poor excuse for a hospital, right now!” Steve’s hair shook from its feathered position when he spoke, his demanding voice booming across the tiles. 

  Without missing a beat and clearly dealing with high strung men before she said almost monotonously, “Sir, you need to calm yourself down, this is a h-”

  But Steve’s fire was only fueled by her dismissive tone, his voice never wavering, “No, I will not calm down! The police were made aware of this situation a year ago and nothing was ever done!” 

  The police officer standing outside guarding entry to the room tipped his head in slow, “Mr. Harrington, we hear your complaints but there isn’t anything we can—”

  “Bullshit!” A tear stain cheeked Robin sobbed, her face red and blotchy from hours of crying and rubbing her freckles clean, “Eddie told you what happened yet he’s still cuffed to a bed like a fucking criminal!”

  She broke down again, clinging to Steve’s side like a wounded child, sobbing into the soft cotton of his crewneck sweater. “This is unethical! Unco—”

  “Alright that’s enough hot shot,” Hopper shouts in finality towards Steve, a wrinkle burrowed deep in his forehead accompanied with graying thick eyebrows set in a devastating frown. 

  “Chief,” Wayne interjects, cap wringing in his calloused, wrinkle bared hands, his voice wobbly but steady, runny nose and wet tears cling to his scruffy beard, “my son was protectin’ that girl, you know Eddie…he’d never hurt someone unless his life or someone he cared about was in danger.” 

  Hopper tore his gaze from the one of the richest in the room to the poorest, hanging his head with sorrow, “ ‘m sorry, Wayne— but until Mr. Derry’s statement comes back and Eddie is cleared… the cuffs stay.” 

  Wayne hung his head low, the few wiry hairs on his balding head stuck in all sorts of directions despite his attempt at raking them into submission. 

  “Jim Hopper you should be ashamed of yourself,” Karen Wheeler spoke up now, head held high, claw clip  teetering with each gesturing movement of her head, “you know good and well this boy couldn’t have done that to her! They loved each other!” 

  Since the pacing of Steve’s feet had stopped Eddie’s heart rattled hard in his chest, he clawed at the heart monitors on his chest, tried to bite the IV’s from his arms, caged like a wild animal he let out a broken cry, “ple— please, she needs me.”

  “Mr. Munson,” the nurse with blonde hair replies sternly, “she is in critical condition, we don’t know if or when she will be able to to recover, she is heavily sedated and needs rest, her only visitors will be family at this time.” 

  “Speaking of,” another nurse chirps, young and fresh gilled, entirely too eager to please her superior, “do you know how to get a hold of her family?”

  He shakes his head slow, causing a pounding headache, “I am her family,” Eddie grunts through clenched teeth, pushing himself up on the bed as far as his cuffs would allow, Steve’s hand on his shoulder. “Look around this room! Ted and Karen Wheeler, Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley, Nancy Byers.. we are all she has,” a single tear falls down his bruised cheek, liquid salt in the cut in his top lip. 

  “Okay sir.. who is responsible for her?” 

  “In regards to what? Financially? You money hungry pricks just don’t let up so you?,” Ted Wheeler finally speaks behind his wife, shock and anger evident on his wrinkled features.

  “Not exactly…”

  “Whatever it is, I will handle it, alright?” Eddie interjects, annoyed with the questions, worried only about you, “I’m responsible for her.”

  “Oh,” the nurse says, perking up slightly, marking a red check mark on her clipboard, smoothing out her uniform, “so you are aware of her condition then.” 

  Light bulbs click for everyone in the room but the curly brown haired metal head. 

  Oh my God

  …Tooty

  Holy shit.

  “That she got the shit kicked out of her by that fucking psycho Chad Cunningham?”

  Eddie.

  Ma’am can we talk privately in the hall? 

  “…obviously I’m aware! I was there when it happened! That dumb fuck already took my statement!” he said gesturing to Deputy Wallace. 

  “No, Mr. Munson..”

  This isn’t the time for this! Wayne tried to warn the nurse, but it fell on deaf, naive ears.

  “…she’s right around twelve weeks pregnant.” 

  A pin dropping could have been heard from a mile away. The oxygen was sucked from the room. Karen’s hand was clapped around her mouth. Nancy and Robin choked back sobs.  

  Everyone was struck with horror, but not Eddie. 

  His mind playing that beautiful night between you like a movie in his head. The way your skin felt, the way his heart ached with fullness at your shared fervor and passion. 

  REWIND

  PLAY

  The curve of your lips on his skin, kissing him sweet and slow, no noise, just the love making swallowing you both whole. 

  REWIND 

  PLAY

  PAUSE 

  Your soft snores as he counted the popcorn marks in the ceiling, his girl. His entire universe. 

  STOP

  EJECT 

  The tears rolled like a ferocious river down his face, carving a path down his cheeks and under his wobbling chin, wetting the hospital gown he was forced into when he got here. 

  You were alone.

  He didn’t know anything about pregnancy besides the woman usually got sick right? Every emotion that most men feel when finding out they were going to be a dad hit him all at once. 

  But not fear. 

  He imagined you with a big swollen belly, feet too pudgy to fit into shoes, he’d rub them with lotion until you could fall asleep. 

  He’d imagined his arms holding you from behind, your baby wrapped in his arms still in your womb. The relief you might feel from the weight being in his hands. 

  You were experiencing this pain all by yourself. 

  He couldn’t fathom how you were feeling. Scared. Hopeless? He had no idea. And the thought of you being alone had him nauseous. 

  Why didn’t you didn’t tell him?  

  Why didn’t anyone tell him? 

  His fury built and shook as his voiced boom with grief as he screamed at Steve, dark eyes blood shot and red rimmed. 

  “How could you,” he broke, struggling through the words, "why would you not tell me?!” The cuffs around his wrist broke skin as he tried to claw his way out of them, trying to reach at Steve’s shirt demanding to be heard. 

  “Ed— fuck man!” Steve started, mouth gaping at Eddie’s arms dripping with blood from his fresh wounds, “we didn’t know!” 

  Robin speaks now, trying to reach for Eddie’s hand to offer him some comfort, “She didn’t tell us, Eddie—Steve is right, she didn’t say a word to any of us about it.” 

  “Fuck!” Eddie screams, slamming his wrists into the bed sides, “I sh—should h-have..,” the end falls silent as his long legs were pulled to his chin and he buried his head into them. 

  In the minutes it had been since he found out, he was already a shitty fucking dad.

  The pain of what happened to you and him not being able to stop it quick enough was killing him, and now, realizing that you were carrying his child and you were all alone? 

  There weren’t words for the gut wrenching feeling ripping through him. Overwhelming dread, chest tight with panic and pain. The nausea overtaking him. The vomit came fast, splashing allover himself and the bed, landing in thick puddles on Steve’s shoes. He cried harder and sobbed uncontrollably. When his stomach was empty he could only dry heave. 

  Wayne moved across the tiled floor in quick steps, careful not to slip in the wayward puke in his path. Sitting down hard and with purpose next to Eddie. This wasn’t his first rodeo of seeing Eddie in this turmoil. But never as a grown man. 

  He tried his hardest to hold back the tears he swore he’d never let fall in front of his boy, but gravity won the fight when Eddie pulled him into a bone crushing hug, his sobs snuffed by the canvas of his work jacket. 

———

It was a full 12 hours before Mr. Derry’s statement was released. Tough old bird, he couldn’t be coerced even with the gentle threat from the Cunningham’s came down hard breathing down his neck. 

  Surely not their son? Their angel?

  But the proof was there. An eye witness statement and a severely beaten woman, the record from years past and the statement from both Steve and Robin on what happened last year at your apartment, stood its ground. 

  Eddie was cleared as a free man, self defense in the eyes of the law. The second his cuffs were off he was throwing his boots onto his gripper socked feet, and untangling himself from wires and needles. 

  Steve and Wayne had both taken off work to help Eddie pick up his medication and make him go home and rest. When he tried to protest, Wayne gave Eddie a look that could pierce steel, the kind of look saying no bullshit, and begrudgingly he followed the men out to Steve’s Mercedes. 

  Nancy and Karen stayed behind at the hospital, filling your room with heavily perfumed flowers. Hushed whispers between the mother and daughter as they prayed and hoped that you would make it out of this horrific nightmare. 

  The doctors would only speak to Eddie. Letting him aware that your condition was improving but they would not be able to lift the sedation just yet. A day passed then another. Eddie slept in the hospital grade recliner in your room each night. Singing you sweet lulls of your favorite song. Promising you the world if you would just open your eyes. 

  He was weak himself. Fighting the urge to break down in front of anyone again with each hour that passed. 

-

4 days led to 5 and the nurses and doctors whispered behind their clipboards. On the 6th day they decided to lift the sedation to see how your body would tolerate pain. 

  Eddie never left. 

  Machines beeped and ticked. Tubes and wires connecting from you drip with fluid and monitoring systems. The white walls and outdated curtains of the hospital shine a yellowed glow into your room, bringing with it a warmth to your cotton thread blanket and warming the skin on your arms. A welcomed feeling compared to the cold needles of the IV poking into your skin delivering flows of medicine and liquids to keep you hydrated and your pain manageable. 

  Foiled balloons printed with get well wishes bounce and sway with the kick on from the vent. 

  One of your hands is unexpectedly warmer than the other. A rough drag across the knobs of your knuckles is a familiar feeling, and you smell him before you even open your eyes to acknowledge that it’s him. 

  The clinging smell of cigarettes on a freshly washed shirt and the spice of deodorant force their way into your nose. It’s a different shampoo than the one you’re used to catching on him. More manly. All sandalwood and musk a hint of citrus. And at first you think he’s someone else… maybe Steve picked up smoking heavily again?

  But when a tuned hum reverberates low against your hand followed by a pair of lips kissing gently around the IV and tape poked and laid against your skin, you know for certain it’s the man you’ve been dreaming about. 

  The one you cried for. 

  The one who visited your sleeping mind and told you everything was going to be okay.

  His name falls from your lips like choked frozen honey, thick in your mouth and on a dry tongue. 

  It was the most beautiful noise he had ever heard. 

  His girl. His whole world. Awake.

[spectres-n-soap]

Soap x reader x Ghost - The Highlands of Your Heart

Content Warnings - Pregnancy, MW3 is canon, Soap is dead, reader is pregnant. Smut and angst. Reader is afab and is referred to as "Lass" by Soap.

You stare at the two pink lines. You blink and its still there. The truth, the present, the unrivaled and undeniable answer to the past weeks of nausea and that damn tingle. You snatch the second box and rip it open, repeat the steps before pacing. It had to be a mistake. Once, you slept with him fucking once; so it had to be a mistake. Five minutes pass and you look at the second test. Positive, two pink lines and you throw up again. After washing your face, you rest your forehead against the cool porcelain of the sink.

Breathe in, breathe out. Repeat.

You stand straight on shaking legs, "I'll make a doctor's appointment." You speak aloud to no one. Three weeks had passed since that terrible day you lost him. Six weeks since you had dragged John MacTavish into your room after one too many longing stares. Six weeks since you wrapped your legs around his torso as he lifted you up while his tongue explored your mouth. Then your chest and then your aching, needy cunt.

"Soap." You panted, head thrown back as he ravished you with his tongue. Your thighs tightened around his head when he sucked on your clit harshly before his tongue dived right back to your soaked hole. He groaned at your taste, his fingers dug further into the flesh of your thighs. "John." He corrected you, his blue eyes looking right at you. "Call mah John lass." Your eyes rolled back into your skull as he pressed two fingers into your slickened cunt. His name flowed from your mouth like a prayer as he curled his fingers to that spot that made you see fucking stars. Your toes curled as your abdomen tightened and he groaned, eyes transfixed on the way your pussy fluttered around his fingers. "God, yer pussy loves mah fingers." Soap -- John -- muttered.

"John - ah fuck- 'm gonna-" The words died on your tongue as your back arched. John nodded, no words needed as he kept abusing that spot. He sucked in a harsh breath as he watched you fall apart on his fingers.

"Good lass." He murmured before he removed his fingers and replaced them with his tongue. He lapped at you as his thumb rubbed tight circles on your clit. "Give mah another." He demanded and pinned down your squirming hips as you tried to pull away. He didn't care when your legs started to kick from overstimulation or your pleas that you couldn't.

"Wait- John I'm-I'm gonna pee!" You cried out and he chuckled. Fucking chuckled.

"No yer not."

"Nonono." The pressure built faster then you could manage and you gushed around his tongue. He drank it up like a dog or a man finding an oasis in the desert. You found feeling in your limbs and grabbed his mohawk and pulled him away from your cunt. John gave you a cheeky grin.

"Yer already tappin' out lass?" He teased, his lower face glistened with your slick and cum.

"Fuck me already MacTavish." You snapped and pulled him up.

"Anything for you lassie." He replied with a wink before he pulled down his pants after fiddling with his belt for a moment. You noted the wet sot on his boxers before he pulled those off too. His cock didn't spring up from its confines but hung low with its weight. And god damn it, your mouth watered at the sight. Long and thick, if he hadn't spent the last twenty minutes preparing your cunt for his cock, you might've said it wouldn't fit. "Yer droolin'." John teased and you didn't get the chance to reply as he pressed in. He hissed as his tip pushed into your hole, "Yer so fuckin' tight still." His free hand reached down and began to rub at your twitching and swollen clit. "Relax f'r me bonnie." He rasped.

"You're so big." You whined out.

"I know lass," He cooed and pressed kisses trailing from your face, down your throat before sucking on a hardened nipple. Slowly, he pushed further in. You could feel every inch, every vein until he bottomed out. You swore you could feel him in your stomach as he groaned. "Good lass. Knew ye could do it." He whispered and pressed another dozen kisses all over your chest. You skin gleamed with sweat from the excertion of the previous orgasms and taking him fully.

He pulled out just a bit and grabbed the under side of your knees. "John, what-" The air rushed from your lungs as he pushed your thighs as close to your chest as possible. John then pushed back into your warm, slick cunt with a groan that mixed with the long moan pushed from your throat. If you had thought you were full before, you were going to burst now. Your fingers dug into his biceps, your eyes squeezed shut as he set the pace. Each thrust knocked moans and whines from you. You squealed when he pinched your clit.

"Eyes on me bonnie." He grunted, pulling out nearly all the way before pushing back in. "Need to see ye cum on mah cock."

"Oh my god." You barely manage to keep your eyes open, let alone focus as his cock made you boneless. "John! John please!"

"Please what lass?" He teased as he panted, sweat shining on his skin. It was like he was trying to fuck the life from you. "Gonna cum?"

You nodded your head, panting between moans. He grinned at your wordless admission and began to rub at your clit, letting your legs hook onto his shoulders. "Yeah? Come on then." Your hand flew to your mouth but was wrenched back with a snarl and a quick slap on your pussy. The zap of pain jolted you and sent you screaming into another orgasm.

He groaned as your walls clenched down on him and sent him slamming into his own release. His thrusts became more shallow as he painted your walls white and some leaked out from where the two of you connected. You panted, a few tears rolled down your cheeks. You nails dug into him when he thrusted again and paled when you realized he was still hard.

---

You stare at the results. You shouldn't be surprised. Really you shouldn't be, the at home tests had already given you the answer. Still, seeing the 'x' marked in the yes slot of pregnancy felt suffocating. You could see the nurse speaking but couldn't hear her before you rushed over the the trash can to throw up.

As you vomit up the breakfast bar you had forced yourself to eat earlier the nurse asks, "Are you okay?" And it takes everything in you not to be an ass.

"No." You wheeze, sliding down to your knees.

"The first pregnancy is always the hardest." The nurse says with sympathy as she hands you a cup of water and a paper towel.

"Could- Could you repeat what you said earlier?" You wipe around your mouth before drinking the water.

"Of course." She gives you a smile before she says, "You're about five weeks along, the doctor is going to give you some prenatal vitamins and is going to let your Captain know-"

"No." You snap without thinking, cheeks turning warm at the sudden outburst, "I mean, I'll tell him myself." You mutter and the woman nods her head but narrows her eyes at you.

She sends you on your way with some papers and you stand outside of the military base hospital shaking. Tears blur your vision as you stare at the paperwork. Three weeks have passed since Soap was killed and you had barely begun to grieve. Now you had this to deal with, decisions to make about the thing growing in you. How would everyone react? Would they suspect Soap, their dead team member, as the father? Would they see you the same?

You jolt when someone touches your shoulder and you turn to find hazel eyes staring at you with barely hidden concern. "You good soldier?" Ghost asks.

"I'm good." You say quickly, pasting on a smile that would fool no one. You don't need to look into his eyes to know he doesn't believe you. You wouldn't believe you either. You don't let him voice his doubts before you're rushing off after saluting him.

You close the door to the women's barracks behind you. It was empty, everyone else was running drills so you had the space and silence to collapse onto your bunk after slamming the papers into your foot locker. Your breathing exercises don't do anything for you as your entire body begins to shake with sobs you could no longer hold back. Your tears soak the pillow, your hand gripping the sheets until your fingers ache.

You don't eat that night; too nauseated, you don't sleep for the same reason. At some point you wonder if its grief or the pregnancy making you ill. Before you're really prepared, you find yourself standing in front of John Price's office with the papers in hand. Three times you've raised and lowered your hand to knock.

Finally, you rap your knuckles three times against the door and hear a gruff, "Come in."

You look at your Captain and force your hands not to tremble. "Captain"

"Sergeant." Silence hands in the air before he speaks again, "Was wonderin' when you would finally knock. Was about to open the door myself."

"Sorry sir," You mutter as your cheeks and neck warm.

"Well, what are those papers for." His eyes flicker to the stack of stapled paper you held close to your chest as he sits up in his desk chair. You look into his eyes and feel your stomach lurch. You force yourself to pick out the subtle differences between his eyes and Soaps.

Deeper crows feet, flecks of darker blue that Soap didn't have.

You take a steading breath.

You place the papers on his desk, praying that he doesn't ask who the father is, "I'm pregnant."

[strangelittlestories]

When one of the last fairy godparents died on my doorstep and passed on their domain to me, they made one crucial miscalculation: I was terminally un-magical.

Now, you might think I mean ‘terminally’ figuratively here. But you would be astonished how quickly foisting a fairy legacy onto fully mundane folks can produce lethal consequences.

In this case, the issue was the wishes. That’s a fairy godparent’s job, right? You’ve got a number of godchildren, selected because they are in some way magically deserving, of interesting destiny, or unfortunately cursed. These kids will usually have some problem that can be solved by tactical wish application.

But if you’re a normal mortal, you will likely spend your first week on the job in active denial about the wishes that start turning up. It’ll just be one or two at first, faintly glowing like stars beneath your skin, carrying with them the gentle suggestion that now might be a great time to start transmogrifying root vegetables into modes of transport.

Then more of them turn up. And they get brighter, bigger, more insistent. Suddenly, your skin is filled with a galaxy and there is no quantity of cleverly applied scarves and no amount of expensive concealer that will hide it. It’s as if your insides have become student accommodation and the residents have decorated with an improbable number of fairy lights because it will look good on the ‘gram.

You start getting sensory migraines that paint flows of impossible colours across the world. Your teeth feel like they are constantly vibrating and you can always taste cinnamon. You can feel your liver and your liver feels wrong. You look in the mirror and you seem to be moving in stop motion, winking in and out of reality.

And a dozen little tinny voices are hovering the back of your mind insistent that *only you* can solve their problems. These problems may seem inconsequential - a boy who really needs to go to the ball, a girl who needs horseriding lessons, a teen who for some reason needs to avoid arts and crafts - but the longer you ignore them, the more you *know* in your bones that they are vital.

Speaking of vital: this is roughly when the banshee showed up to let me know that the sheer quantity of magical potential in my body was now approaching ‘fae nuke’ levels. Apparently, if I did not start bleeding off some of the excess, this would get *very bad* for me and everyone around me.

In short: the critical mass of wishes contained within my pitiful mortal flesh was acting like a magical black hole. It was sufficiently aetherically dense that my body was becoming more a part of the Faerie realm than the mortal plane. If it reached the tipping point, it would effectively become a portal between worlds.

This wouldn’t be too bad for an actual fae. As the banshee explained, this was one of the ways fairy godparents got around. They call it ‘wishful blinking’

But I was not built for containing a magical wormhole, so yeah … fae nuke.

So … I started granting wishes.

Making dreams come true without magic, by the way, is a *whole production*. I called in every favour. I utilised every skill. I pulled elaborate cons. I tricked parents into hiring me as a party planner/tutor/life coach/etc. Then I used the income to hire help. The banshee even pitched in (we ended up getting drinks a few times).

Eventually, there were enough of us that we needed a home base. So I bought a warehouse/office space.

And that’s how I started the first ever Wish Fulfilment Centre.

---

Thanks to a Word of the Month Club member for the prompt of "Wishful".

Want to submit your own words to be used as puns in my stories? Consider supporting me on Ko-Fi with a recurring donation https://ko-fi.com/strangelittlestories

[georgiebrits]

Chaconne - Sim Jake

You're in Jake's bedroom, wearing nothing but a seductive smile and a black lacy bra and panty set. Jake is sitting on his bed, his eyes fixated on you as you sway your hips to the beat of the music. You lock eyes with Jake as you slowly peel off your bra, revealing your perky breasts. He can't take it anymore and he jumps up to join you.

Jake eagerly steps closer and starts to mimic your movements, his hands tracing the curves of your body as you undress. "You're so beautiful," he says, his voice low and full of desire. You respond by turning around and grinding your ass into his crotch, feeling his hardness against you.

Jake's hands move up to cup your breasts, squeezing them gently as he speaks, "I've wanted you for so long. Seeing you like this, in my room, it's like a dream come true." You moan softly in response, feeling his erection grow harder against you.

“Are there more dreams you wish to come true?” You ask while winking.

Jake nods eagerly, his hands moving lower to grip your ass, "Yes, I want to feel you all over, taste you, make you scream my name." You can't help but let out a breathy moan at his words, feeling your own desire begin to build.

Jake nods eagerly, his hands moving lower to grip your ass, "Yes, I want to feel you all over, taste you, make you scream my name." You can't help but let out a breathy moan at his words, feeling your own desire begin to build.

You gasp as Jake pulls you onto the bed, his hands roaming over your body as he begins to eat you out. You arch your back, moaning louder and louder as he expertly flicks his tongue over your clit, sending waves of pleasure through your body. "Fuck, Jake...you're so good at this," you moan, gripping the sheets tightly as he continues to eat you out.

As Jake adds his fingers, you can't help but moan even louder, your hips bucking up to meet his every movement. You grasp his hair tightly, pulling him closer to your throbbing center as you ride the edge of your orgasm. "Oh, god, don't stop," you cry out, your fists clenching on the sheets. Jake grins up at you, his eyes shining with lust as he works you closer and closer to the edge.

Your body trembles with pleasure as you reach your climax, moaning Jake's name over and over again. He comes up and kisses you, his lips tasting of your arousal as you desperately try to remove his clothes. "I need you," you pant, pulling him close and grinding yourself against his rock-hard erection. Jake growls, his hands grasping your hips as he positions himself at your entrance. "I'm gonna take you so hard," he murmurs, pushing inside you with one swift motion.

You gasp as Jake angles himself just right, hitting that sweet spot inside you that sends you into fits of pleasure. He grins down at you as he goes slow and steady, making sure to hit that spot again and again as he drives you wild with desire. You arch your back, your hands clawing at his back as you beg for more, for him to go harder and faster. "You feel so good," Jake growls, his own breathing ragged as he loses himself in the moment.

Jake's grip on your thigh tightens as he thrusts into you harder and faster. Your moans fill the room as he pounds into you with abandon, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thigh. He leans down to kiss you, his lips trailing down your neck as he whispers how good you feel, and how much he wants you. He grinds his pelvis against yours, the friction sending you higher and higher towards the edge.

Suddenly, Jake pulls out of you and flips you over onto your hands and knees. He gives your ass a sharp smack, making you yelp in surprise and delight. Without any warning, he plunges back into you, making you scream out his name. His hips slap against yours rhythmically as he drives into you with all his might, the delicious pleasure making you see stars. "You like that, huh?" he growls, his fingers gripping your hips tightly as he pumps into you harder and harder. He pulls your head back by your hair, his lips trailing down your neck as he kisses you roughly. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the air as he takes you hard, his pace becoming more frenzied with each passing second.

As Jake continues to pound into you, his thrusts becoming more and more urgent, he pauses to give your ass another sharp smack. This time, the sudden pain mixes with the intense pleasure, making your head spin. You feel yourself teetering on the edge of an explosive orgasm as he spanks you again in between thrusts. The sensation of his hard cock filling you up, combined with the stinging pleasure of his spanks, is too much to handle. You let out a loud cry as you finally reach your climax, your body convulsing with pleasure as Jake continues to thrust into you, prolonging the ecstasy. Finally, with a loud grunt, he releases himself inside you, collapsing onto your back as the two of you bask in the afterglow of your intense lovemaking.

“Next time you will be the one dancing,” You say out of breath.

Jake chuckles as he catches his breath, his arms still wrapped tightly around you. "Oh, I don't know about that," he says, grinning mischievously. "I don't think I could resist stripping you down again, you look so damn sexy in that lingerie." You feel a blush spread across your cheeks at his words, but you can't help but feel a little excited at the thought of dancing for him again. "Well, maybe we could take turns," you suggest, winking at him. "I'll strip for you one night, and then you can strip for me the next." Jake grins and pulls you closer. "Deal," he says, planting a soft kiss on your lips. "But for now, let's just enjoy the moment."

[its-ironic-right]

Now how about the reverse?

Gideon dying before (maybe while protecting) Kremy.

Sometimes I get prompts that blow way past 500 words…

Where is the line drawn? Mathematically it’s between two points, but who determines those points? What gives them the right to define a beginning and an end?

Let’s simplify.

Life has a determined beginning and end. You’re born, you live, you die. (Well, if you’re lucky you die. Sometimes you just live and that’s so much worse.) The thread of your life held taut between two fingertips. That was a line drawn.

Death comes for us all. As a friend, an enemy, it comes without hesitation. In the smoldering ashes of a burnt out planet, death is the only constant. But death is known to play games. It loves a gamble.

Blasts of white hot magic fly through the air. It hits its mark with a sickening thud, knocking its victim to their knees.

“Shit.” A hissed curse, flesh hitting a wooden dock. Water laps under foot, breaks in the planks reveal white peaks. A heavy current, falling into the drink would mean certain death. Another bolt of magic, missing its target by a hair.

A roaring beast shoots out from thick woods, rending the magic users flesh from bone. Enemy neutralized for now, time to inspect the damage. The party wasn’t completely stupid. An attacker this strong wouldn’t come alone. Nothing to do but run.

“Sound off, who’s unconscious?” Kremy croaked. His ribs were broken, it took twice the effort to breathe or speak. He still needed to know who was left. A groan.

“I’m… okay. Very injured but alive.” Morning Frost was battered and broken, blood caked his fur and everything smelled awful. But conscious. Torbek looked up from his prey.

“Torbek is here. Torbek could definitely be doing better.” slashes oozed deep magenta from his side. That left Gricko and Gideon.

“Oh fuck, where’s our healer?” Kremy searched what was left of the dock. A green arm shot up from under some rubble.

“Here… I’ve got… banañas… one spell slot left.” Not ideal. Goodberries would get them through the night at least. One member left. Kremy’s heart dropped.

“Anyone see Gid?”

There was a peace that came with unconsciousness. A twilight state where nothing hurt, sinking into the bliss of oblivion. Gideon was no stranger to death. They crossed paths countless times, either by his hand or another. He wouldn’t say they were on friendly terms, more like work associates. For all his fire and bravado Gideon had a workman’s attention to detail when it came to destruction. Death was another detail.

He’s in an empty field. Rows of black dirt stretch in either direction. It looks familiar. He picks up a rock and chucks it. It flies in an arch, landing with a ‘thud’ yards away.

“Good arm.” Gideon whips around to see a towering figure of a man. He has a hand Up over his eyes like a visor, peering out to wherever the rock landed. The man looks down and smiles. Gideon is ten years old, his Pa ruffles his hair.

“…Pa?” Pa Coal winks.

“Who else?” He whistles. “Damn Gid, you really did a number on yourself. I thought it’d be another few years before I saw you again.” Gideon looks down. No longer a child but a man. A man with a hole burnt into his chest.

“Oh no, am I dead?”

“Almost dead. You’ve got a few hours before your organs shut down completely.” Pa leans down and picks up a rock. He throws it. It soars through a blue sky and lands farther than Gideons. The prairie didn’t have many ponds for skipping stones, but if you flicked your wrist in just the right way you could watch it skid across dirt. He remembers being a kid, throwing rocks into empty fields and challenging Pa to see how far they could throw them. Pa always had the better pitching arm.

“Almost dead, huh.” He threw another rock. Pa nodded.

“You took a bolt of lightning to the ticker Gid, you should be thankful it’s an ‘almost’ and not a ‘definitely’.” Uncomfortable silence passes between them. Funny how much “almost dead” didn’t bother him. Maybe it was the “almost” part. That meant hope.

“Kremy will figure it out, he always does.”

“You found a good husband, I’m glad.” Gideon blushes and stammers.

“Well, ironically my husband. More like a partner in crime, you know?” Pa slaps a hand on his back and he’s five years old.

A broken plate lays shattered on the floor of their shotgun shack. It was the prettiest thing they owned. Deep purple with scalloped edges trimmed in gold. The gold was flaking and you could barely see the vine motif in the center, but it was the only thing in the shack not meant for work. Gideon had wanted to look at it up close, to trace the lines and curves of snaking green vines. He’d attempted to climb up the shelf, it toppled under his weight. His face falls, what would Pa say when he found out? He can’t find out. Gideon pushes all the pieces into a pile. He’s placing them together like a puzzle, lining the image the best he can, trying like hell to make jagged edges match seamlessly. Tears stream down his face, he can’t let Pa see the plate is broken beyond repair. Tiny fingers coated in porcelain dust and microscopic cuts can’t put it together again. He’ll have to lie.

“The gods did not gift you a silver tongue, son.”

Gideon looks away from the broken plate. Shame crashing into his heart.

“I tried to fix it…”

“You tried to hide it. That’s not the same.”

He remembers being frustrated with the shards, making more and more mistakes until he gives up. He gathers the pieces into a bucket and sneaks out the front door. The plate is missing less than a day before Pa finds it in the tool shed.

Suddenly, pain. Deep, burning into his chest. He gasps and collapses, clutching the hole in his heart.

Its hot. So fucking hot. Is he in an oven? A forge? He opens his eyes again. The train. Of course. Metal stained black with soot, coals smoldering in the boiler, waiting for him to set them alight. He doesn’t have to look down to know what he looks like. The image is seared in his brain forever. A tear rolls down Pa Coal’s weathered cheek.

“The worst part about being dead: you can’t protect the living.” He feels the cuts and burns etched into his skin. This wasn’t right. He’d left the train, killed every mother fucker in the thing and jumped to freedom. This was a vision, it had to be. Gideon wouldn’t stay in hell unless he was dead. “Tell me the truth, son.”

“What the fuck is going on?!” He’s gasping, smoke filling every capillary in his lungs. Choking on every breath.

“You’re dying. Ever heard the phrase ‘life flashing before your eyes’?” Pa’s voice is low and sad. Steam escapes from a smoke stack, a shrill whistle piercing the air. And he can’t fucking breath. “Told you, your organs are failing.”

“Kremy will fix it. I know he will.”

“How do you know?”

“He always does.”

Everything goes dark. His stomach turns, he can breathe. Barely. Everything hurts. He’s discombobulated, soaked to the bone in rain and piss. He doesn’t need to open his eyes to know where he is. An alleyway in Agwé, somewhere in the Crawdad Corner. The turning point in his life that made it worth living. He was bruised from some fight, passed out drunk in the rain. He didn’t remember how he got there, fate has a funny way of taking you places you never expect. Eyes still shut, he doesn’t want to see the look on Pa’s face. This is him at his lowest. But he knows what comes next. A whisper in the dark. Pattering rain against pavement nearly drowns it out, little words that create big waves. Eyes open to meet golden eyes. A smile, a handshake, a new life. So quick it almost didn’t happen.

“So that’s him? The man who will save you?” Gideon nods.

“Always does.” Pa Coal chuckles.

The alleyway fades into a tavern. Nondescript people bustle around, ordering drinks between lively conversation. A barmaid whistles a soft tune. Swatting wandering hands and passing mugs of ale. Gideon sips at a whiskey. Warmth fills his belly. Pa leans against the bar facing towards the door, opposite his son. Countless taverns litter his memory, but this one stuck out. A night that lived in his core. Kremy plays cards across the room. He’s winning, he always wins. Even when he loses he somehow comes out on top. It’s easy settling into this moment, nothing hurt. Yet.

“I’ve come close to death loads of times, why am I getting the full treatment this go around?”

“Never this close.” Gideon scoffed. He shot back the whiskey and turned around.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve died before. Or came close.”

“Gideon, you’re dead. Almost. I wouldn’t be here if this wasn’t your brain firing its last synapses.” Grief pangs at his heart. Of course.

“So you’re not really here. Just my brain trying to make sense of everything.” He lights a cigar with his finger. The tavern moves around them. Kremy wins another hand, Gideon can see the losers fist clench under the table. His cue. He crosses the room, The cigar leaving a trail of smoke in his wake. The loser rears his fist, Gideon catches it in his hand. A headbutt and two punches later they’re running out the door. Kremy laughs. /Gid I could kiss you!/ In the fleeting light of passing windows, Kremy shines. For a second, Gideon wishes he would. They duck into an alley, footsteps run past them. Gideon is intimately aware of how close they were. He could do it. Lean in and kiss Kremy, he could blame it on the adrenaline. He could lie.

“Do you love him?” Gideon almost jumps out of his skin. Pa smokes a cigar across the alley.

“Of course. I love him like a brother.”

“You’re a terrible liar.” Something rams itself down his spine, searing every nerve. The scene dissipates. Oblivion engulfs him.

Three.

Two.

One.

His time is up. He can feel it. He wonders what happened. Did everyone die? Or just him?

It’s warm here. He always thought death would be cold. He could fall asleep like this. Although it wouldn’t be sleep. Sleep had an end.

Guess that’s why it was called eternal slumber.

One.

Two.

Three.

Gideon gasps awake. He was alive. The throbbing pain in his chest told him that. Golden eyes rimmed in red stare down at him.

“Gid!” Kremy pulled him close, forehead to snout. Gideons body sprawled out from under the alligator’s grasp. Tears spilled out in streams against scales. “Oh my gods I thought I lost you! Your heart stopped-“ Gideon’s lips met his. It wasn’t a passionate kiss, more weak and desperate than anything. When they broke, Gideon winked.

“I knew you could do it.”

Point A to Point B, but the interesting part was all the twists in between. Who knows who draws the line. So long as they had a sense of humor.

[verysium]

blu lock top artists on Spotify??? i need your thoughts on it

anon you had me pulling up my spotify playlists and browsing through the entirety of genius.com for three hours straight. i'm going to tweak this prompt a little bit and include specific songs that best represent them since it's easier for me to explain that way.

RIN

the fanon answer for this is chase atlantic. while their songs do encapsulate parts of his personality (mostly the edgy teenager and disillusioned youth persona), i feel like this choice does not do his full character justice.

the canon answer for this is king gnu, more specifically the song "prayer x." i can picture this since rin seems like the type to enjoy alternative rock/indie, but the fact that it's the ending theme to banana fish is what gets to me. like...do you see yourself in ash or something? i hope you don't cus it doesn't end well. that anime had me bawling my eyes out for months, and i still can't think about it without breaking down again.

furthermore, the lyrics and music video to this song are very cryptic and borderline nihilistic. for example, "hiding behind this nonchalant smile" and "my life's spark will wink out of existence." i feel like this speaks volumes about rin's mental health and internal thought process. he obviously does not process his emotions normally and instead represses them. he also struggles with the idea of finding a purpose in what is otherwise a cyclical routine with no end. he's worried and, quite frankly, afraid that if he ever stops pursuing his dream, everything will come crumbling down, and he will have to face all the demons he's avoided for so long. the main theme here is that he cannot face his reality (the fact that sae's dream is not his own.) so he does everything in order to escape this fact even if it ultimately destroys him.

from my own playlists, i'd assign him the following songs/artists:

"beautiful boy" by john lennon

this is a love letter to baby rin. i feel like he would've enjoyed this song as either a lullaby or something he listened to on car rides to the beach during summer vacations. he probably still listens to this when it's raining outside or he's had a bad day. reminds him of his childhood and the good parts of it.

"the love club" by lorde

this is something pre-teen rin listened to. the irony is spot-on, and i feel like the lyrics would be relevant during a time when he was going through his rebellious phase and fully fleshing out his place in society. in this instance, the club would metaphorically be wherever his brother is at, whether that's the guys sae meets in spain or the group of football players considered "top-notch" in japan. everything is about finding a place in this club/clique in an effort to become free and differentiate himself from others. the only problem is that rin ironically loses his freedom because he tries so hard to be among the best. he signs his life away in pursuit of a dream, and it's something that now defines him.

"the only problem i got with the club / is how you're severed from the people / who watched you grow up"

this lyric in particular could apply to either one of the itoshi brothers. it's one of the caveats that comes with fame. you gain everything, but you lose everything before that. both of the itoshis likely experienced some amount of separation from their loved ones, including each other. also lorde's vocals are beautiful as always, so there's no reason not to include this song.

"howlin' 404" by DEAN

the production for this song is on point. the intro has a segment from a 1930s american horror radio program which is fitting because rin canonically watches horror movies. i think this song is something rin might listen to during cold autumns or midnights when he just can't sleep.

lyrically, there is the motif of a time loop which is also present in "prayer x." rin's character itself just has this connection with the raw grittiness of existentialism and this idea of repeating days without purpose. (in fact, he would make a great psychological thriller lead.) rin is also a control freak. if he lets one loose end go, it will unravel the entire thing. that matches up with the idea of "killing me softly." rin would rather prolong his pain than have it ripped from him all at once and leave him with nothing. i find this in a lot of people in real life too. even if your trauma wasn't good for you, it sometimes becomes the only thing you truly own. it's like that one quote from bojack horseman. "if i don't, that means that all the damage i got isn't good damage, it's just damage." rin feels like he has something to prove, and if he fails, all his suffering would've been for nothing.

"moonchild" by RM

i may be a bit biased since i love the mono mixtape, and i've written a rin fic about celestial bodies, but....this song just fits him. there's also a remarkable similarity with the lyrics of the previous songs i've listed. i'm just going to list a few:

"smiling in endless pain / you know / there's no freedom when you say freedom out loud"

one thing i love about RM is that he doesn't shy away from character flaws. he writes songs specifically for those who are always picked last, who aren't remarkable in any way, who feel weighed down by their normality. he gives them their spotlight and due diligence. for example, the entirety of the chorus is a repeat of "moonchild, you shine." i find this interesting since it's usually the sun that shines. but the sun is already sae, and rin is relegated to being the moon. yet even though the moon doesn't have its own light (it merely reflects the sun), it still shines bright in the darkness. rin doesn't know it yet, but he himself is a big role model for others such as isagi, his fans, and people just like him. so yeah....i'd take this song as a message of hope for future rin.

SAE

the fanon answer is lana del rey, and i would agree to a certain extent. under the right circumstances, he could become one of those dreamy, emotionally stunted, and tired men you guys all lust over. if y/n ever wrote a romantic song about him, it would be either "west coast" (for the spanish influences) or "art deco" (for the vibes.)

the headcanon answer is nothing. i don't think he listens to music much. even if he did, it would be probably classical/instrumental or just white noise for his long flights. i imagine him listening to erik satie's "gymnopédie no. 3" on a train ride or something.

from my own playlists, i'm going to give him these songs/artists:

"remind me" by röyksopp

i don't know how to explain this, but this song gives a bittersweet sense of nostalgia. think early 2000s when the TV footage was still grainy and had retro graphics. you're carrying around your mini mp3 player whilst wandering through the airport and wondering how the hell you even ended up there. that's the general ambience of this song.

lyrically, the song also matches well with sae. i'm going to give you a few examples:

"it's only been a week / the rush of being home in rapid fading"

again, this is a tribute to the disconnection sae feels from his home. he goes everywhere, but he belongs nowhere. when he finally returns to japan, he finds himself missing spain. when he's in madrid, he thinks about the ocean back in kamakura. there never is a place that truly fills that gaping hole in his chest. i also feel like sae experiences FOMO on a whole other level. he constantly feels like something is wrong/missing and he's not doing enough.

"brave men tell the truth / the wise man's tools are analogies and puzzles"

the idea here is that though sae is blunt with his words, he is a coward with his intentions/true feelings. he can brutally call out someone without hesitation, but to actually reveal his own truths and motives? he'd rather shrivel up in a hole and die. this is especially applicable to love. to him, a wise man is someone who doesn't open his heart up easily. instead, he hints at his feelings, and whether or not you can figure that out is on you. sae hates it when others play games with him. it's where his hypocrisy lies. he demands straightforward honesty from others, but he himself will unintentionally play games with you if it means he can hide himself behind his walls.

"a woman holds her tongue / knowing silence will speak for her"

this is the closest you guys are ever going to get to sae itoshi's ideal type. he loves people who don't need to say something for him to believe it. they just get it. your silence is automatically enough for him to know that you love him. similarly, you don't even need to speak a word to understand what he's feeling.

"night shift" by lucy dacus

this song is sae if he was that one ex-boyfriend who really fucked you up emotionally, and you never got over him even though you said you did. now that i think about it, the story could be told from either POV. this could be sae trying to erase you from his mind, or it could also be you post-breakup.

"you've got a 9 to 5 / so i'll take the night shift / and i'll never see you again / if i can help it"

i know this one lyric caused controversy all over tiktok, so i'm going to add my own interpretation. at face value, this is exactly what it says it is. sae doesn't want to see you again, nor do you. he's willing to go out of his way just to avoid you, and truthfully he would. when sae finds himself in trouble, he doesn't look for something new to fix him. instead, he cuts everything off and subtracts anything that is deadweight. if you're out of his life, then you're out of his life. he's not coming back for you (or at least that's what he says to convince himself). same thing with rin. he knows he hurt rin, but he's not going to go back and try to make it right. he's going to move on and try to justify his actions every step of the way. one day, rin will move on too, and then sae would have been right all along. (unfortunately, that is not the way things work, but that's a lesson for another time.)

the alternative interpretation is that y/n is the other woman. this could be literal as in sae already has someone else in his life, and he only sees you at night. you're only ever going to be the night shift. it could also be metaphorical as in you're merely a distraction in the grand scheme of things. you're the mistress, but football is his wife if that makes sense. his career will always take precedence.

"you get me so high" by the neighborhood

this song is all the words sae wished he said to rin but never did. it made me cry because everything would have been so different if they had just set aside their pride and truthfully sought each other out.

"hope you don't regret it / i pushed a lot back but i can't forget it"

repressing feelings seems to be a recurring issue with the itoshi brothers. like....maybe if i just push it out of sight, it will also go out of mind. and at its core, this all stems from fear. fear of facing the consequences, the hypotheticals, the terrifying realization that you did something you regret and there really is no turning back from it. but realistically, if you think about it, a lot of this is the byproduct of overthinking. sometimes the situation isn't as complicated as we might make it out to be. sometimes an apology doesn't fix everything, but it's a proposition to be something more, an attempt at a solution. but sae and rin are so blindsided by their own internal turmoil that they cannot see this.

"for a long time i took it all for granted / i really thought we had it / but at the time it was more than i could manage"

ah....the "taking for granted" part. i could ramble on about that for hours. i think it really is some sort of self-fulfilling prophecy that we never miss something until it's gone. and in a way, it's not something that we can always control. the value you assign to a person/object when you have it is going to be fundamentally different from the value you assign to it when it's no longer in your grasp. that's how scarcity works. something with a limited supply is always going to be worth more. the vice versa works as well. you might yearn after something but then throw it away the moment you finally have it and grow tired of it. this sort of dilemma that comes with appreciation is so common i really wouldn't blame the itoshi brothers for what they did. it is immensely difficult to know when you're going to lose something or when you need to let it go. and sometimes it's hard to be constantly grateful for what you have because many of us are wired to want something more. tbh that's what makes the itoshis relatable.

"if we can leave it all behind us / and meet in between"

now sae would never say this unless he himself had actually reflected on what happened and fully processed it. but maybe in the future, they could set aside their differences and reach out to each other. (this is how i cope)

"but i just had to let you know / i never meant to hurt you, though / i had all my motives / i didn't know they wouldn't mix with your emotions / i just had to reach my goals / never knew i'd meet you though"

that's the thing with personal ambition. sometimes you get so caught up in yourself, you forget all about others. and this isn't really selfishness, or at least intentional selfishness. it just sort of happened that way. you never meant to hurt them, but you still somehow did.

"we should stick together / you're my best friend / i'll love you forever"

yeah....this line was the one that did it for me. something about the dysfunctional sibling dynamic just eats away at my insides. like....i could've loved you, we could've been so much together, but why aren't we? what we have isn't hate, but it isn't the love i know and crave either.

"we could be the greatest / it doesn't matter if we're never rich or famous"

ok but if rin ever heard this leave sae's lips, i think all of his trauma would just be magically healed. he just wants his brother to see him. like fully see him and love him. but alas, what is blue lock without angst, am i right?

"love in the dark" by adele

now i don't think sae would ever listen to adele, but the lyrics are just too fitting. i was going to write a fic on this, but it's going to have to ferment a bit in the drafts for now. basically this is the entire rin/sae traumatic scene but as a melodramatic torch song with adele's heavenly vocals.

"take your eyes off of me so i can leave / i'm far too ashamed to do it with you watching me"

um...this is literally sae's internal monologue??? i feel like letting go of things is something both the itoshi brothers struggle with. their lives are constantly pulling them in different directions, and eventually they become numb to it all. they don't form any strong attachment to anything besides football because that's the one thing that won't change for them. in a way, this is necessary for their character development (in the sense that they need to discern for themselves what to keep and what to let go), but it also destroys any sense of belonging they might have (hence why they feel lonely.)

"don't try to change my mind / i'm being cruel to be kind"

sae would definitely say this. like word for word. if only he wasn't a vague dumbass with no communication skills.

"i can't love you in the dark / it feels like we're oceans apart"

this is literally their dynamic in one lyric. there is the physical distance, and then there's the emotional distance.

"we're not the only ones, / i don't regret a thing / every word i've said, / you know i'll always mean"

this sort of reminds me when sae said that the world is huge, and there's so many players way better than him out there. i think spain really gave him a reality check, and he grew angry at rin when rin couldn't understand his disillusionment.

"everything changed me / and i don't think you can save me"

adele sort of echoes this softly at the end of the song. i feel like sae would do that too. he wouldn't admit his own insecurities until the very end, and only then does the truth come out.

"i'll sleep when i'm older" by bruno major

this is sae when he's older and fully mature, preferably after he meets you. he finally decides to damn it all and do what he wants.

"conversations with elders and the wisdom they bring ... / the view from an aeroplane at twelve thousand feet"

sae views things that previously annoyed him in a new light. he used to hate his elders, but he visited you and your mother once, and something changed within him. now he calls his parents more often, and his eyes linger on the old couples near the park benches. sometimes, his gaze softens just a bit when he imagines the two of you growing old just like them.

flights used to be a mundane part of his routine, but now he finds himself leaning over your window seat to see the mountains down below. the clouds and sunny weather set him aglow. and you just look so pretty when you fall asleep on his shoulder. he doesn't ever want this change.

"meet god on a mountain top along with the stars / find love somewhere, anywhere / fall deep from the start"

sae used to avoid love, but now he's running at it full-force. people tend to shy away from making sae a romantic because it seems too ooc. however, in the right situation, i think sae could entirely abandon his previous ideals and become someone else entirely. (that's why it's called a character evolution guys.)

"misplace my mind and follow my heart"

again, if you're able to make sae lose all rationality and let his heart guide him instead, then you've really done something. kudos to you for penetrating the walls of the coldest asshole known to mankind.

"i'll be a firework, not a flickering flame / treat life all around me like a one-player game"

this one lyric applies both to younger and older sae. younger sae is someone unafraid of risking it all if it means he can achieve something worthwhile. it doesn't matter how many players he has to defeat, how many people he has to leave behind. in this world, it is just him and the goal he has to accomplish.

however, after he's mellowed out after a few years (i'd say around middle age), he probably reinterprets this as something else. he's not going to constrain himself to his tunnel vision anymore. there's so much more to life than that.

"i'll go to the party and forget all the names / should it climb back to haunt me, / it ends all the same"

sae finally lets himself live the life he never thought he'd have. he does stupid things like get drunk and make a fool of himself. but you're there for him, so he doesn't really care. in fact, he can finally say that for the first time in a long time....he's having fun.

KAISER

the fanon answer is the weeknd. i'm not going to lie, i completely agree with this one. i saw this one edit of him to "party monster," and i can say i have been fully enlightened and converted. however, this is not just about a toxic male manipulator anthem. it's much more than that.

this is about running away from the ugliest parts of yourself, becoming a slave to your vices, knowing you're broken somewhere and you can never fix it. i would say his character is most similar to "starboy" in the fact that he literally flaunts everything he has to hide the fact that deep down inside, he really has nothing else to hold onto. "starboy" is all about the status symbol (money, red lamborghinis, glass table girls turning into ebony table girls lol). but at the end of the day, he doesn't really have anything except an empty heart and a satirical quip for all those who made him famous. the same theme applies to "the morning" and "house of balloons."

in the romantic sense, i think "don't break my heart" would represent kaiser. and no, this is not a justification for him being an f-boy. it's more so an exploration of why people might think he is an f-boy. i do not condone his actions, but i do try to understand them. in particular, i feel like the lyrics of "sacrifice" also fit him well.

"i was born in a city / where the winter nights don't ever sleep / so this life's always with me / the ice inside my veins will never bleed"

i headcanon kaiser as being born in either berlin or munich. and if you don't know anything about those two places, just know that you freeze your ass off during wintertime. i think it's interesting how his past could be intrinsically tied with a place, and he takes a piece of his past self with him wherever he goes. the ice in veins part also made me think about how kaiser would rather freeze up every weakness within himself than let them run free and make him human.

"every time you try to fix me / i know you'll never find that missing piece"

guys...did you hear that? to all you delusional people out there, this is your service announcement. you cannot fix someone who does not want to be fixed. write that down and memorize it. all meaningful change starts with a shift in mindset, and if they themselves are not in the right headspace to recognize that something is wrong and actively want to change, you're not going to get anywhere. so yeah....kaiser is not going to change unless HE starts doing the changing.

"i hold you through the toughest parts / when you feel like it's the end / 'cause life is still worth living"

i think this lyric sort of explores kaiser's dynamic with ness. on one front, he is the one picking ness up from his miserable past and instilling a sense of hope into him (intentionally or not.) but on another front, this could also be a problem. kaiser is almost forcefully optimistic in the way that he believes anything is possible. it has to be possible because there can be no other way. but the thing is.....you have to know your limits sometimes. blind optimism is, ironically, similar to cornering yourself.

"i can break you down and pick you up / and fuck like we are friends / but don't be catching feelings"

this is definitely the type of bullshit kaiser would spew. i could picture a fwb or situationship with him where y/n just constantly receives the short end of the stick. now this may be reaching, but i also feel like this is how kaiser projects his own trauma onto others. he himself clawed his way up to the top and put himself back together every time he fell down. the problem is that he also expects you to be that resilient. he's going to treat you badly because you're supposed to be like him: someone who can overcome everything and strive towards the impossible.

the headcanon answer to his top artist would be keshi. in particular, i think kaiser would fit the vibe of "2 soon" and "drunk." long story short, you finally broke up with him, and he's still reeling from the impact.

within my fics, i envision a dialogue between kaiser and y/n from each one of their perspectives. so based on that, i'm going to assign him the following songs/artists:

"gibson girl" by ethel cain

i know i said earlier that kaiser's character is not solely about toxic manipulation, but you have to understand that all bad habits originate from somewhere. kaiser is innately self-destructive, and he brings you down along with him. this song is about that but from y/n's perspective. there's this idea of trying to find agency in a situation where you have none. i don't have the word count to explain ethel cain lore in all of its naked glory, but all i can say is that this song is a banger and deals with themes like femininity as a performance, finding power in pain, religious motifs, etc.

"glory box" by portishead

this song is y/n's last plea to kaiser before they fully give up on him and leave. i'm also a sucker for anything that involves an exploration of gender dynamics and what it means to be a woman, and this song is riddled with it.

"suffocation" by crystal castles

this is kaiser post-isagi defeat (cue that one scene where he was trying to choke himself.) similar to sae, it's all or nothing with him. he suffers from this feeling of inferiority. everyone made him out to be this great figure of impossible dreams and legends, but look at him now. he's nothing. aren't you disappointed? he had you fooled, but he also fooled himself. so yeah....kaiser is definitely the most self-deprecating out of all of the boys at blue lock.

ISAGI

the fanon answer is laufey, and i also agree. he's so sweet, and laufey's music just makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. he would also be that one love that came creeping up on you when you least expected it. "valentine" would be the song for that. i picture a reader who's had a series of unfortunate breakups and is right on the edge of giving up entirely. but then isagi comes along, and it's just so easy to love him. as easy as breathing. and then you think maybe it wasn't so bad after all. you just never found the right one until he came into your life. furthermore, isagi is a jazz pop princess, and you can't convince me otherwise.

the headcanon answer is IU. more specifically, i would say "troll" from her lilac album. i feel like even if you and isagi broke up, it would still be like you two never broke up at all. you're both on good terms, and even though you know it's counterproductive to keep cycling back to each other, you do it anyways. and it's okay because you're both still in love.

from my own playlists, i would assign the following songs/artists:

"winter bear" by v

this is my comfort song. it feels like those big sherpa blankets you tuck yourself under when you're lying next to the heater in winter. isagi would kiss your forehead and nuzzle your nose before you two drifted off to sleep.

"a boy named pluto" by hailey knox

this one is so romantic lol. i also like the dynamic where one party is afraid to love, but the other person loves them unconditionally. that would be isagi. he'd respect your decision and wait for you as long as you need it. but if you're ever ready to give him a chance, just know that he's going to treasure all of you.

"put your records on" by ritt momney

the inspiring thing about isagi is that he never lets anyone put him down. he takes rejection as redirection, failure as room for improvement. and in that way, i think this song encapsulates his resilience. he'd be such a good boyfriend not just romantically but in the way that he would literally pick you back up to your feet, dust you off, and make sure everything was alright.

"fairy of shampoo" by dosii

i picture isagi as someone who falls first and falls harder. he just loves you so much, and he doesn't even need a reason why. i saw somewhere that sometimes you don't love someone because they're your soulmate/twin flame/supernaturally fated other. you love them because you consciously made the decision to. isagi is like that. he loves you on purpose.

helppp why does this sound like an academic paper...i'm sorry anon. i got carried away with this, but i hope u like it.