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luveline · 5 months ago

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𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐚𝐳, 𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐫𝐮𝐛𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐝 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

Eddie has a staring problem that you barely notice, though you share an aching, awful crush. One of you has to bend first, and it’s not who you’d expect. fem, 5k

ditzy-ish reader, pining eddie, mutual pining, confessions, first kisses, fluff and hugging, idiots in love, mild states of undress

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

It’s a day fit for a funeral in Hawkins. Rain hammers his bedroom window like hailstones, plinking against the frame, condensation running down the panes in thick rivulets he soaks up with an old t-shirt.

It’s supposed to be spring time. Green grass, flowers, a gentle humming sun to warm the back of his neck while he sits out on the couch on the porch, a hand-rolled cigarette between his fingers, the tip shimmering with heat.

But the rain pours. He’s cleaned his room for the first time in a month, at least, and his back aches in the best way as he lays down amongst fresh sheets. His room feels strange when it’s organised, but he doesn’t mind. He pictures the state of it through a second pair of eyes. This is a boy who cares about things, who takes care of them, who could take care of me, too.

Rain again rackets on the metal roof above. He and Wayne keep a couple hundred bucks stashed for the day the roof flies straight off —they take turns hiding it, because cars break down and groceries get more expensive every year, but god will they need it, and so they safeguard it well.

He syphoned a little of the money recently with Wayne’s support. It was for a good cause.

“Jesus,” Eddie murmurs to himself, not tired but feeling dull as the clouds outside eat the remaining sun.

It’s depressing to be poor, and to lose a day trying to hide the evidence of an entire life in a small room. He could sleep a hundred years.

He’s just finished pulling the sheets over his shoulder when somebody knocks on the front door. Wayne opens it three rooms away, the sound of the rain doubled.

He gives a startling shout, “Ed! Your girl!”

Eddie topples out of bed. Doesn’t mean to, foot caught in the bottom of the sheets and stuck as he scrambles to slide out of the mess. He’s begged Wayne not to call you that when you’re within earshot, but Wayne’s a mean (kind) old bastard (middle aged dad) who wants Eddie dead (happy, and in love).

“Come on in, girl. You’re soaking.”

“It’s raining.”

“It’s pouring down. Did you walk here?”

“Took my bike. Thought I’d get struck by lightning in the car.”

“How’d you figure?”

Eddie goes to grab the door handle and spins on his heel, staggering onto his bed and up against the wall, where a mirrored tray once used by Dio himself for rolling hangs from the wall. He checks his face in the polished surface, his warped mouth and nose, too small eyes, and swears to himself that one day he’ll get a real mirror with a fully-functioning reflective surface.

Then he hops down off of the bed, causing a reverberation he knows traverses the entirety of the trailer floor. Eddie snatches a rare clean towel from his laundry chair and speeds down the hall.

“Hello,” he says, more casual than he feels to find you unexpectedly in his house. “You’re soaked.”

You give a sweet smile. “It’s raining out, did you not know?”

Your hair is dripping, water racing down the curves of your face to collect at your chin. Eddie can see the smudges of your makeup where it’s washing off as he wraps a towel around you, kohl on your cheeks, eyelashes turned to half-diamonds and sticky-looking. You grin at being covered, taking the towel from his fingers before he can dab you dry.

“Why didn’t you just call me?”’

“I can never remember if your phone number ends in three or four.”

“Seven. I wrote it down for you a hundred times.”

You rub your eyes and spread all manner of glitter and shadow over your skin. You wipe your neck and the glitter spreads like an alien rash.

When you talk next, you shiver, “I lost it a hundred times, sorry. Is it okay that I'm here?”

Wayne, who’s been watching with a distinct sense of amusement from the couch, lets out a chesty laugh. “Honey, it’s always okay that you’re here on my account. And it’s my house.”

“It’s fine.” Eddie turns your shoulder so he can mouth over it without being caught. Asshole.

Another laugh follows. Eddie would cut each of his fingers from his hand and then his hand from his wrist if it were something Wayne needed him to do, but that doesn’t make him any less of an opportunistic asshole. If there’s a way to fuck with Eddie, he tends to try it. He loves Eddie with all the tenacity of a father who loves his son, but Wayne got infected with little bitch disease or something and Eddie can’t cure it.

“Can I please wash my face? I didn’t expect to get soaked.”

“Didn’t you?” He regrets his flippancy quickly, leading you down the hall. “You could take a shower. What do you think?”

You’ve never showered here, but Eddie’s trying to, you know, date you. Romance you, get to cherish you, however anyone wants to say it. And it’s not a war of attrition, just a natural escalation of sharing, or a minimising of boundaries.

No, that’s pervy, isn’t it?

“I mean–” He starts to correct himself.

You interrupt with your answer, “Yes, please, do you think I could? But I don’t have anything to wear.”

“I have your purple hoodie in my room, and there’s gotta be a pair of sweatpants here that fit you,” he says.

They’ve got a whole bunch of clothes here that floated in from somewhere else, Eddie’s other friends or stuff they’ve bought by mistake. He’s sure he can find something.

“You have my hoodie?” you ask, black kohl spreading across the towel as you wipe your cheek.

Eddie only smelled it one time. When he’d realised you left it in his van he brought it in and folded it, waiting for the next time he’d see you to give it back, but that night he’d been getting out of the shower wondering if he could call you or if that was too soon, and your hoodie had been right there. So he stood there in his pyjama pants with his wet hair and he didn’t think about picking your hoodie up, he just did, and when he pressed it to his face it still smelled of your perfume.

He put it back and felt like a loser for days.

“It’s in my closet, you left it in the van Monday,” he explains quickly, nudging you through the doorway of the bathroom.

The Munson bathroom is teeny tiny but not unnavigable. There’s a shower pressed to the far wall that could squeeze in two people, their toilet to the right, a sink basin opposite that with a medicine cabinet and just enough room for a dirty laundry box that’s always, always full.

Eddie opens the shower and turns it on. “It takes a while to get really hot but then it’s not hot for long, sorry. There’s my shampoo if you want it, and soap, and body wash. Sorry, none of it is super girly.”

“Sorry sorry,” you say, pretending to hit him in the stomach. “What’s with all the sorries, handsome? I can’t wait to smell like a boy.”

The way you say it. Eddie doesn’t know what it is, but it’s why he’s crazy about you.

Probably shouldn’t tell you that as you're taking off your jacket, though.

“I’ll be right back,” he says.

Eddie heads out of the bathroom to their skinny linen cabinet hidden in the hallway. He grabs the last two towels from the middle shelf and takes pause, fabric starchy in his hands. Just be normal, he thinks, a pep talk from Eddie to Eddie. She hangs out with you all the time for a reason. She held your hand at the movies.

Eddie’s in better spirits when he remembers that. Your hand in his, your ring pushing his ring further down his finger, your cheek touching his shoulder as you’d leaned in and asked if he wanted some of your popcorn.

He opens the door without thinking, shower pattering against the perspex wall, your legs crossing tightly as he enters, turning yourself away from him.

“Woah!” you say, laughing.

“Holy crap.” The image of your red underwear immediately stamps itself into his mind as he pulls the door shut between you. They were really cute, red and white gingham, showcasing just the slightest curve of your– “I told you I was coming back!”

“I thought you’d knock!” you laugh. “Sorry I flashed you. At least I had my shirt on.”

At least, he thinks wryly, shoving his arm through the gap in the door, heavy towels pulling at his fingers. His head’s about to snap off, it's turned so far away from the door’s opening. “Here.”

“If you wanna see me naked so bad you can just ask,” you tease.

“Take the towels, loser.”

You take the towels and he closes the door, preventing any more accidental creeping, and giving himself a reprieve. Gingham underwear. Wavy lettuce edgings kissing your skin.

Holy fuck. Being a person is so lame, Eddie thinks. He wants to have a crush on you purely, and yet seeing the way you’d crossed your legs to hide from him, smiling, he can’t not think about kissing you —touching you. If he doesn’t get you laid out in his bed soon for some slow kissing he’s not gonna make it.

Eddie opens the strip vent above his window and prays it doesn’t flood his whole room. Clean, it doesn’t look half bad, he could bring you in here respectfully, you could stay the night without fearing for your life.

You take a quick shower. He’s barely gotten over his nerves when you’re walking into his room, a towel around you, not a hint of shyness about you.

“You didn’t bring me anything to wear,” you explain.

Eddie just stares at you.

“Eddie?” You wrap the towel tighter. “Come on, you’re staring at me.”

“Sorry.” His mouth is bone dry.

“You have my hoodie, right? Just need some pants.” You cross your arm tightly across your chest. “I don’t usually notice when people are staring at me.”

“You aren’t usually naked in my room,” he says, genuinely and embarrassingly apologetic.

“I’m not naked. Come on, please? Do I have to wait outside the door?” you ask with a laugh.

Eddie stands up. Shakes his head hard, almost trips over himself trying to get to his dresser. He decides honesty will be best at this point, lest you think he has only one thing on his mind, “Listen, I’m sorry. I’m just in my head about something and I wasn’t expecting you to come out like that. It’s not right. You’re just… you’re really pretty.”

“Thank you.” He can’t see you, sorting quickly through his middle drawer and all his miscellaneous pants for a pair he’s sure would fit, if he could just remember where it was. “What are you in your head about?”

“What?”

“Eddie, are you okay?”

“No, no,” he moans, rubbing his face with his hand, ring scratching the bridge of his nose, “I’m not okay, princess, I’m overheating or something, Jesus Christ.” He finally lays eyes on the sweatpants he’d been thinking of, grabs your hoodie from the top shelf and drops them both at the end of the bed. “I’ll give you some privacy.”

“I don’t have any underwear.”

“And that’s something I can’t fix,” he says, leaving the room in a hurry.

Eddie gets to the living room and keels over. His hair falls in his face, his shirt slides down his back. What the fuck is wrong with him?

Wayne, sliding his shoes on in the recliner, gives a start. “What’s wrong?”

Eddie lifts his head, yanking hair from his face, the skin of his under eyes pulled down harshly. “Oh my god.”

Wayne wrinkles his nose.

“No ones ever been such a pathetic excuse for a man before,” Eddie says.

“Your dad’s in jail,” Wayne points out. “And not for the impressive stuff.”

“I’m pathetic.”

“You’re fine. You’re not supposed to be not pathetic, you’re twenty.”

“I’m twenty one.”

“The extra year doesn’t mean much. I know you think you’re all grown up, but you’re still an idiot.”

Wayne stands and shrugs on the jacket laying over the armrest.

“Wait, where are you going?”

“I thought you were definitely gonna ask her?” Wayne asks knowingly. That’s what Eddie told him, after all. “Next time I see her, Wayne, I’m asking her to go steady.”

Eddie shakes his head. “You can’t leave.”

“Eddie.” Wayne gestures for Eddie to stop slouching like some fiend from a bad horror. “Listen. I get that you’ve always been sort of… behind everyone, but that doesn’t mean you can’t do it. She likes you. She biked here in a hurricane.”

“What if she says no?” he asks.

Truthfully, Eddie’s more scared of you saying yes.

Wayne shrugs. “Girl like that’ll still be your friend after. It’ll be fine, okay? Do you need a hug before I go?”

“No.” Eddie rubs his eyes some more, sore now from being touched. “Maybe.”

Wayne crosses the room to give his shoulder a squeeze. “It will be fine. You’re great with rejection, Eds, but I have a good feeling about this one.”

Eddie felt better about it, before he embarrassed himself staring at you. But Wayne’s right, even if Eddie’s read things wrong between you, he’s sure you’ll still want to be his friend. You and Eddie are the same kind of weird, though he’s more angry where you’re carefree. If everything goes wrong, you’ll probably just give an unnecessary apology and offer to braid his hair. Which will be torture, but Eddie’ll still say yes.

Wayne calls goodbye, and you shout, “Bye, Mr. Munson!” to which Wayne wiggles his eyebrows.

“Get lost,” Eddie says.

“Go make her a drink. I’ll see you later.”

That’s not a bad idea. Eddie makes you a mix of orange and grapefruit juice with a couple of ice cubes and a plastic straw, your reaction predicted and then proved.

“It’s a cocktail,” you say, pleased, sitting on the side of his bed.

“It’s not a cocktail, just juice.”

“Can I have some socks, please, Eddie?”

Eddie passes you your drink, fingertips brushing. “Yeah. Anything else?” He pretends to be exhausted as he trudges back over to his dresser.

You laugh and sip your drink. “No, I think you’re treating me quite well.”

Eddie grabs a random pair and finally gets to sit down beside you, the dresser drawer left out, a spare sock fallen to the floor. You shuffle back into his pillows, propping your juice on his side table, and holding your hands out for the socks. Again, your fingertips touch his as he passes them to you. You seem to enjoy it, a smile lighting your face as you pull your knees up to put the socks on.

“Thank you for waiting on me,” you say quietly. Not shyly, just quiet.

“You’re welcome. Came all this way to see me, didn’t you?” He gives you a shove. You shuffle back further. “In the pouring rain.”

“It felt important at the time.”

“Yeah?”

You get the socks on and don’t care about them once they're past your heels. Eddie does the honour of smoothing out the bands so that the elastic won’t dig into your skin, and when he’s done he can feel you looking at him heavily. You’re not one for continued eye contact, but you smile like you were waiting for it all day, like it’s a relief to see him.

“Bad weather,” you say, slouching down. “I think I’m still wet on the inside.”

“Gross,” Eddie says, pushing you over bodily to sit beside you. This isn’t new, he doesn’t need any nerves, and he’s grateful when they don’t come. “Here, I’ll pull the blanket over you.”

“Can’t move,” you say, leaning back against the pillows.

Eddie stretches his legs out. You keep yours up, but you turn to his side, and before he can really make any sense of you, you’re dropping your face into his shoulder.

“Are you still cold?” he asks, searching for the truth in your strange comment.

You nod into his shoulder. “I’m freezing. The shower didn’t get very hot.”

“Sorry,” he says, letting his cheek rest on your head.

You lift your chin as he does it, his lashes pressed to your forehead, the two of you stuck together like two warped jigsaw pieces. You probably weren’t made to be together, but you make a nice picture, and you fit snugly now. That’s what Eddie thinks.

This is the sort of moment that makes Eddie wanna ask you out. Maybe you’re just the best friend he’s ever had, but something about this closeness feels different. You wrap your arm around his stomach in a hug and he knows this is different.

“It’s okay,” you say finally, sighing as you shift downward into his side, getting comfortable.

“Please don’t bike here in the rain. It’s, like, torrential. You could actually get sick.”

You feel warm where your body presses against his, but Eddie doubts that’ll make a difference if the cold already made you sick. The bike ride from your place to his isn't short. He covers your arm with his and tries to be your space heater, cheek sliding over your forehead.

“Eddie…” You hug him with tenderness. Eddie’s reluctant to say cuddle, but it’s close. “This might be a surprise to you, but I think it’s worth the rain and the cold to see you. Especially when you do this.”

“What am I doing?”

“You’re rubbing my arm.”

He hadn’t noticed his hand caressing up and down your arm where it rests on his stomach.

“You make me feel amazing,” you say, dropping your face into his chest.

That’s his last straw. Eddie gets both arms around you and cuddles you (it’s a cuddle, okay! he’s a loser!) to him, arms tight but not cruel. All this fuss and you’re finally laying on top of him. He decides he won’t ask you after all. He’s not that brave, and he doesn’t want this to end.

Your legs fall onto him. You relax completely. Even after you shower he can smell your perfume.

“You smell nice,” he murmurs.

“It’s on my hoodie,” you murmur back.

Right. Eddie should remember.

“You make everything smell like you.” Even his van keeps your scent most days.

“Too much?”

“The right amount,” he says firmly.

You lay on his chest for a while, just breathing. Eddie rubs your back, tells himself he will ask, actually, because he can’t imagine not getting to do this again. You might even stay over. He could live hours of this. He didn’t know having you lay on him could make him feel like this.

He can’t believe you’ve never done it before.

Rain pounds the window. Condensation drips down onto the sill. You let your legs stretch out flat and then manoeuvre to be laying half atop him, hoodie riding up your back.

“Any warmer now?” he asks.

“Yeah, you’re warming me up.” You lavish in his arms for a moment, and then lift your face. “Oh, this is a bad angle.”

“For me or you?”

“For me, duh.”

Eddie doesn’t think you could have a bad angle. He rubs at your upper arm as you start to shift. “You know, your bike has just as big a chance of getting hit by lightning as your car does. More, probably.”

“You think so?”

“It’s physics. So, please don’t do it again.”

You hum. “Hm, should I risk getting struck by lightning, or spend the evening without you?” you murmur, your arm moving, moving slowly, your hand resting gently on the column of his neck. There’s something ironic in your voice, wry, but your eyes are warm. He’s paralysed. No one has ever spoken to him like you. “I think I’d rather get struck by lightning.”

You stare at one another. He laughs. You join in, your thumb a pressure at his neck, and when you move up his chest to lean in, he isn’t expecting it.

“We’re very close together,” you whisper.

“Super close,” he whispers back.

“…Eddie, can I ask you something?” Your eyes slip shut, your lips so close that something in him aches, just enough wit about him to cup your shoulders in his forearm.

“Yeah.”

He doesn’t sound half as calm as you do.

“Would you… Do you think we could be official? Would you want that?” You tilt your head to the side. “Is that stupid?”

“Official?” he asks, panicked, his eyes squeezed shut hard enough for a moment that they ache.

“Like, you’d be my boyfriend. I’d be your girlfriend. We’d be close like this all the time.”

Eddie panics so hard he just says the first thing that comes into his head, “Like, we’d kiss?”

“I hope so,” you say, your nose pressing against his, the tip to the side of his, and then against his nostril. The heat of your breath is hard to ignore. “What do you think?”

What does Eddie think about it?

He catches your lips in a slow kiss. Achingly slow, not even sure it’s a kiss until you reciprocate, and your fingers dig behind his neck to tease his hair. Your lips part against his, the heat of your tongue sudden and undeniable —Eddie didn’t know you had it in you. He squeezes you to him, attempting to crane his neck downward, reliant on your enthusiasm as you move up, as you use his neck to pull yourself closer.

Your noses crush together, and it actually hurts. “Sorry,” he says, easing you back, “you okay?”

“‘Nother kiss,” you say hopefully, distractedly.

He can’t not give it to you.

Your hand spreads flat against his chest and you kiss, you kiss, long and slow movements against him before turning your head to take it again. Eddie doesn’t always know what to do with himself, but he knows kissing, no matter what anybody might think about him, and he takes the lead.

His hand screws into a fist against your hoodie, the slip of your back further exposed as you shiver into his mouth, a sound you shouldn’t make sweet on his tongue.

You pull away, breath on his lips. “Wanted you to kiss me for so long,” you murmur.

Eddie knows you’re not saying it to flirt, and that makes it worse.

“I should’ve kissed you a long time ago,” he says roughly.

“You wanted to?”

“Yeah. Yeah, so much, I’m a loser about you–”

“I’m always a loser,” you interrupt, “but especially about you.”

You scratch your fingers through his hair, encouraging his head down for another kiss. This one rougher but not rough, his arm slips finally behind your head where he’d needed it to be, hooking you in his elbow to keep you in one place. To kiss you soundly, without interruption. Your almost feverish ebbing inward is a dream, your nose rubbing up against his is a fantasy.

His heart hammers and hammers at his ribs.

You pull away to let him breathe. “You’re very excited,” you tease lightly.

Eddie kisses you, breathless. He kisses you so much he’s surprised you allow it, but your thumb rubs his cheek, and he knows he’d been right all along. You want him like he wants you, with startling, mildly pathetic urgency.

He feels like a fucking prince. Girl of his dreams in his lap, everything he wants, and he didn’t even have to ask.

—

Eddie spends a week in bliss. You’re suddenly everywhere, all the time, attached to his hip or some other part of him, and he forgets for seven whole days that he bought you a ring.

The rain dries up, the Munson emergency fund lives to die another day, and he remembers the ring only minutes before you’re knocking at his door.

He trips over himself trying to answer it before Wayne, who’s taken to being as painfully embarrassing as is possible for one human being, can get it for him.

“One day you’re gonna eat shit and break your nose,” Wayne says.

Eddie yanks open the door. “Yeah, thanks. Hey, beautiful, what’s with the sunglasses?”

You slide them down your nose. You’re a vision on his front step, not that you’d ever notice your own intrigue. “The sunglasses?” you ask, tucking them away. “What do you think they’re for? Three guesses.”

He grabs your waist, leaning down out of the doorway so as to save Wayne the agony. “That’s smart,” he says, kissing you quickly in hello. “You’re funny. Need anything before we go?”

“No, I’m okay. Hi, Mr. Munson!” you add.

“Hey, honey! How are you?” Wayne calls.

You look up into Eddie’s face with an obvious delight. “I’ve never been better.”

Eddie grins back.

He waves a quick goodbye to Wayne and then he’s out the door. You grab his wrist and practically dance him to the car, where you offer your keys, and he deigns to drive. From there it’s smooth sailing, familiarity with a better twist, Eddie driving with the windows down and your hands twined on your thigh. Things haven’t changed much since you asked him to go steady, there’s just a whole lot more of this. Touching, kissing, no weird guilt about staring.

As it turns out, you’re as eager to be laid out in his bed as he is to lay you out. He’s never wanted to kiss you more, and now he’s allowed.

“Eyes on the road.”

He leans over to kiss your cheek. The sun has warmed your skin, and his kiss makes you smile. You look pretty no matter the weather.

“Before we get there, I have something to give you.” He takes his hand from yours to slide the box from his pocket. He holds it up. “But you can only have it if you swear you’ll call me tonight before bed. No excuses. You know exactly what number to call.”

“Ends with a three,” you say, nodding.

He sighs. “No, it does not.”

“I’m kidding! Two one nine seven, I have now committed it to memory.”

Eddie pays attention to the road, though it’s clear and long heading out of the trailer park and into town. “That deserves a gift.”

You’re back in your glitters today, a skirt to enjoy the fine weather, a button shirt with a cute triangle collar, you’re lovely as ever, if a tad much for some. Not Eddie. He loves the dark clothes, the tinkling bracelets, the fun way you smile like everything he says is a secret between him and you. People stare wherever you and Eddie go, but as long your arm is sewn through his he couldn’t care less.

“A gift,” you say, smiling in your way, and taking the box politely. “I don’t think I deserve it for just remembering your number.”

“You deserved it for less. It’s not much. You can pay me back in three or four amazing kisses. Right here.” He points to the tight juncture beneath his jaw.

You attempt to lean over and kiss him immediately. He pushes you back, laughing, worsened by your own breathless laughter as you steal one exactly where he’d tapped.

You settle back down, Eddie’s hand dropping kindly to your knee. “I wonder what it is,” you say.

“Then open it.”

“I am!” You pop the box open, it’s springing hinge snapping into place. “Oh, woah. Woah. Where did you get this?”

It’s a slim ring, with a weirdly shaped band of quality metal around some cheaper but not totally worthless gemstones, of which there are three different colours: a topaz orange, a lime green, and a pinky-red ruby colour centre stage. They have nice cuts. It’s strange as you are, and he knew when he saw it you’d have to have it.

“If I put it on my marriage finger, are we engaged?” you tease.

“That one would be way heavier,” he says, giving you a squeeze.

You slide it onto your middle finger and hold your hand up in the sunshine. It fits in with your other ring nicely, though it is, to Eddie’s pride, far prettier.

He has half a mind to pull over and kiss each knuckle, but he’s trying to be less dramatic about you. It’s not working.

“Thank you, Eddie. I love it.”

“Best boyfriend ever?” he asks hopefully.

To his mild fear but better pleasure, you climb up onto the console to press three quick kisses to his cheek and jaw, your hand under his ear holding him in tender place. “Best boyfriend ever. Even if you stare too much.”

“How am I supposed to not?” he asks, with more weight than he’s intended.

You speak matter of factly for the first time in your life. “I am going to cause an accident,” you promise, attempting to kiss his nose. “A bad one.”

“Sit down, please.” He lets you kiss his nose, and then jabs you in the side. “Sit down, oh my god! That’s not funny, you’re so pretty I will total your car.”

“Now who’s not funny?”

You both laugh at the same time, the unfiltered, un-cute cackling of two idiots with the same sense of humour, and the same wealth of ridiculous honeymoon love.

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

thank you so much for reading!! I hope you enjoyed. if you did, please consider reblogging or commenting!! thanks very much <3

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson scenario #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader

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shy-writer-999 · 23 days ago

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Summary: Zoro is kind enough to let you cockwarm him while he polishes the sheathes of his swords. When you get impatient and the sheathes are nice and shiny, will he finally move? ~1.6k words.

CW: Simple, mind-numbing smut! Afab reader, gendered language (“woman”), cockwarming, P in V.

MINORS DNI. NSFW CONTENT.

After a long day of training, Zoro’s habit was to polish his swords and sheathes. For a man who wasn’t fussed with appearances, he was diligent when it came to his swords. So, it was his nightly routine of polishing that was the segue to the position you were in one evening—on Zoro’s lap with your chests pressed together and his hard cock resting inside you.

As much as he liked to pretend/act like this was a compromise—you “got” to cockwarm him and he got to finish polishing his sheathes—it was a win-win scenario. He loved it just as much as you, if not more.

Zoro’s hands were wrapped around you as he buffed a cloth with some polishing wax over one of his sheathes. He was trying his best to focus and finish the job he started, and it had only been a few minutes, but you were starting to get agitated. Your thighs hurt from tensing your muscles in an attempt to stay still.

His cock felt amazing and heat pooled in your stomach almost immediately—of course he could feel every pulse and miniscule shift. He was delighted and it felt fantastic, but he tried to contain his excitement long enough to polish that damn sheathe.

“Quit squirming around, woman. You’re distracting me. Do you want me to pull out?” Zoro threatened and you quickly shook your head no. “Okay, then stay still.” He rolled his eyes.

Did you have no discipline? Why was this so difficult for you already? He (supposedly) didn’t want to flatter himself, but he knew the answer must be that his cock felt too good for you to hold still (and he was right).

“Zoro, are you almost done?” You whined and his hands paused.

“Does it look like I’m almost done?” He huffed in annoyance. He actually was close to being done but you were being impatient, and it irked him.

“I don’t know. It looks shiny enough to me.” You frowned.

“You’re going to have to wait a few more minutes, sweetheart.”

You had to bite your lip. It was difficult to have his cock inside like this without an ounce of friction or movement. Sure, it felt good but sheesh, your arousal was already dripping down his shaft and onto the chair below, which was a fact that did not escape him.

Zoro took his time (and then some) polishing out one more undesirable smudge and then set his materials on the table in front of him. His hands came under your ass cheeks and thighs.

“Okay, happy now? I’m all done. But that doesn’t mean you can just fuck yourself senseless on my cock. We’re going to go nice and slow.”

Zoro was going to do all the work, or at least you hoped he would, considering the fact that your legs were almost shaking at this point from tensing your muscles to remain still. Thankfully, the handsome swordsman started to pull you off his cock slowly, just enough so he didn’t pull all the way out. Then he brought you down again, agonizingly slow, until he was buried inside of you.

“Did that feel good?” Zoro purred in your ear and you let out a soft “mmhmm,” trying to suppress the filthy moans ready to escape at any second. He was getting off on seeing how quickly you fell apart after the slightest movement.

Your face rested in the crook of his neck. He imagined that your cheeks must be flushed, your eyebrows were probably pinched in the center, a reflection of your anguish at trying to keep it together, and your eyes must have been glossy and lidded in desire. Of course, he was right.

With the next pass of his cock, you let out a quiet whimper. The way you were throbbing around him was going to send him into overdrive soon. It had only been a minute at this point, a record low as far as his stamina and self-control goes.

“Zoro, please. Faster.” You were fidgeting with need, trying to hold yourself back—it was killing you to go so slow. “Please.”

“Wait your turn. You think you’re the only one getting off on this?” His voice was condescending and stern, but you could tell it was bathed in desire. He was getting to a point. And when he got past it, he was going to fuck your brains out.

He bounced you nice and leisurely for a few minutes, teasing himself as well as you, making you writhe and keen. He could tell he was smearing precum into your core with every slight clench and shudder of your walls.

You were so wet that Zoro’s inner thighs and his balls were drenched.

“Zoro, feels too good, I need it. Please go faster, I’m going crazy.” Your desperate tone melted in his ears. He loved being in control, and using that control to get you pleading for his cock shamelessly was one of his favorite pastimes.

He finally indulged in your entreaties and picked up the pace. Each plunge of his cock made you moan louder. When you grinded down on his length, fucking yourself deeper with it, he started to get lost.

Strong large hands dug at your supple flesh, still cupped under your ass as he slid you on and off his cock. The heat at your core turned to fire. It wouldn’t be much longer until you came. He was hitting all the right sensitive angles, dragging his head and shaft over your gooey spot and then back out again, fucking you so well because he knew your body inside and out. All you had to do was sit there.

“So tight for me,” he groaned, dirty talk starting as he got progressively more aroused. “You like being bounced on my cock, huh? Feels good, doesn’t it?”

You let out an indecipherable string of obscene sounds in response. It must have been an affirmative since the answer to his question was self-evident. It obviously felt good. Your eyes were practically rolling back in your head and your thighs were quaking.

Jerking his hips up into you while he brought you down on his cock, Zoro somehow fucked deeper, stretching you with his cock and prompting you to squeeze around him.

“You want me to fuck you full? Wanna cum on my cock, baby?” His voice was husky. It sounded like he was growling amidst his heaving gasps for air.

You struggled to nod as a response, words obstructed by a long mewl straight in his ear. He felt your hot breath on his skin, along with your arms tightening around his neck, his cock was sensitive and your slippery warmth felt electric—he was close.

“Then do it, sweetheart. Cum for me, since you want it so bad.”

Zoro found your g-spot again and grinded on it, pressing his cock as forcefully into you as he could with the leverage from his hands on your ass. “There you go baby, just like that. Cum for me.”

“Zo’, Zoro, fuck, fuck, ‘m cumming, fuck.” Your walls started to spasm and your whole body seized up as you passed into a state of unreality and bliss. You were mewling and keening his name so loud that you knew the crew would give you a hard time about it later. But the pleasure from his cock was other-worldly. It exploded in your core like fireworks—hot, flashing, and sparkling.

Each time your cunt constricted on his cock through your orgasm, Zoro got closer. While you were riding out the pleasure, he wasn’t far behind you.

“Fuuuuccckkkkkk, you’re so—so fuckin’ wet and good for me.” His hips bucked and he gripped your skin so roughly it would undoubtedly leave a pretty pattern of bruises. “Gonna cum, c-cum inside your pretty pussy.”

Zoro was almost out of breath. He reached the precipice of orgasm and his hot cum exploded inside of you. By now, you were limp, collapsed onto his chest with your head in the crook of his neck.

“Nnnggghhhhh, fuck,” his groan was guttural and animalistic. “Cumming, ‘m, cumming, fuck, fuhhcckkkk.”

He pushed his hips up one last time, fucking his own cum into you and deliberately overstimulating you both for just a second. He wanted to feel you writhe and hear you moan his name one last time. He relished the sound.

While Zoro waited for you to come back to reality, he kissed your neck and shoulders and took a long inhale of the scent of your hair. One of his favorite parts about sex was the aftercare—he loved being rough, dominant, and nasty any time his cock was stuffed into you, but when you had your fill, he’d pull out of you gently, almost drown you in affection and delicate caresses, and do anything you wanted him to do.

can u tell how bad i need zoro aftercare? no joke, i think this is how EVERY single fic i've written about him ends. but can u blame me?!

here’s my masterlist and my posting schedule for october!

i’m posting every day from now until halloween!

finally, trick or treat? (tumblr links, the treat is next level!!)

#z’s kinktober #zoro smut #roronoa zoro smut #one piece smut #op smut #one piece x reader #op x reader #zoro x reader #zoro x you #zoro x y/n #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x you #roronoa zoro x y/n

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whenanafallsinlove · 5 months ago

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Self-care day ⋆｡°

KATSUKI BAKUGO; - just a self-care day with Katsuki as your boyfriend fluff!

﹗warnings: slightly hinted dirty joke (?)

a/n: this is my first work, so pls comment what you think about it! this idea just came to my mind, so I hope you like it <3

You like to have at least a day every other week just to do some self-care; the best part is that you get to share it with your boyfriend. After hero training, you'd take a long, hot shower, and after that, do some skincare and facemasks with Katsuki. This day, though, you chose to do some nail care, so you decided to do the whole mani-pedi ritual while Katsuki simply laid in your bed, watching with attention your every action. You loved your quality time with him; he often went along with any plan you had in mind just to get to spend his time with you. And you were so comfortable around him that even this soothing silence felt like an embrace to your heart.

"Tsuki, could you pass me the nail polish, please? I left it beside you, on my nightstand," you said, breaking the silence. You were sitting on the chair by your desk, feet and hands in the water, so you could not reach it in your own.

"The red one?" he asked, sitting up and reaching for it.

"Yeah, thanks," you said as he got up and gave it to you.

You went back into a few moments of silence, but he stood right behind you, his hands on your shoulders and his head on top of yours.

"Does it hurt?" he asked, seeing how you were removing your cuticules. You chuckled slightly at the innocent question.

"No, it doesn't. Would you like me to do your hands? I could give you a mani without painting your nails, if you want." You offered, not thinking too much into it. You knew Katsuki had a minor insecurity about his callused hands, and maybe this could help him a little with it.

"Tch, whatever." He said, rolling his eyes - not that you could see it, but you could hear the small smile painted on his lips. He gave you a small peck in the crown of your head and went back to sitting on your bed.

" 'kay. Just let me finish painting my nails, and I'll do you" he raised a teasing eyebrow at your sentence "Stop it, you know what I mean!" you said as you chuckled.

It took you a few more minutes to finish your nails, and then you finally stood up from your place.

"I'm going to change this water for some warmer one. Go sit in the chair, Tsuki," you told him with a smile, then proceeded to make your way into your bathroom.

He followed your indication immediatly. Honestly, you sometimes had him wondering how much power you had over him; he knew he was short-tempered, and he had never been a fan of being accompanied 24/7. Not until he met you. Every attention you had for him, all your little details, had him longing for more. There you had Katsuki Bakugo, future Pro Hero 'Dynamight', doing manis at your dorm, just so he could be with you for as much time as possible.

"Here, get your hands in the water. This will ease the calluses," you said, interupting his thoughts.

And that's how, you spent the rest of your self-care day, just cackling, muttering, and loving the presence of the other.

#katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki x you #katsuki x reader #bakugo x reader #bnha #bakugou katsuki #mha bakugou #bakugou x reader #bnha bakugou #bnha oneshot #mha oneshot #katsuki bakugou fluff

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solxamber · 1 month ago

Note

Hi! I've been thinking abt hanahaki lately, so I wanna see your thoughts on how OB boys handle hanahaki?

Idk I've feel like I've been thinking too much lately.

Overblot Gang x Reader (Hanahaki)

hi! thanks for the request <3

Riddle Rosehearts

Red roses are a traditional symbol of love and passion, but also perfectionism.

It started with a cough. Just a small, insignificant cough. But Riddle Rosehearts, ever the rule follower and disciplinarian, dismissed it as a minor inconvenience, despite the occasional stray petal that would land on his perfectly polished shoes. He didn’t dare look too closely at the flower. He knew the bloom too well—the telltale sign of unspoken love: red roses.

Riddle spent weeks trying to suppress the symptoms. He even scheduled extra tea sessions, convinced that a well-brewed Earl Grey would soothe his throat. But nothing worked. Every time he caught sight of you helping Ace with his homework or smiling brightly at Deuce, another rose would bloom in his chest, sending petals into his lungs until his coughing fits became more frequent.

One day, as you were organizing some papers in the Heartslabyul common room, you heard Riddle let out an uncharacteristically loud cough followed by the clinking of ceramic.

"Are you okay, Riddle?" you asked, peeking over your shoulder.

"I-I'm fine!" he spluttered, quickly shoving something into his pocket. His face was flushed, though whether it was from embarrassment or lack of oxygen was unclear. But as you moved closer, you noticed a bright red rose petal caught in his hair.

"You’ve got something in your hair—wait… is that a rose petal?" you asked, eyes widening in realization.

Riddle froze, his hand instinctively reaching up to where the petal had been. He sighed, clearly defeated. "I… may have developed a small case of hanahaki."

You raised an eyebrow. "Small? You’re practically growing a garden!"

Riddle��s face turned an even deeper shade of red. "W-Well, it’s because of you…"

It took a moment for the words to sink in. Then it hit you like a ton of bricks. "Wait. Me? You like me?"

Riddle looked down, nervously twiddling his fingers. "Yes. I’ve been in love with you for a while now. But I never had the courage to say anything."

You smiled softly, stepping closer and placing a hand on his shoulder. "Riddle, I like you too. You didn’t have to choke on roses to get my attention."

His eyes widened, and the redness of his face softened into something warmer—hopeful. "Really?"

"Really." You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. "Now, let’s work on getting rid of those flowers, shall we?"

Leona Kingscholar

Sunflowers represent adoration, loyalty, and longevity.

Leona Kingscholar thought he could out-stubborn his hanahaki. After all, he was the second prince of the Sunset Savanna. What were a few flowers compared to his iron will? But as soon as the bright yellow sunflowers began to sprout in his lungs, even he couldn’t ignore the constant tickle in his throat.

Every time you visited Savanaclaw to drop off some notes for Jack or just to say hi, Leona would immediately turn away, trying to suppress the blooming in his chest. He figured if he just kept avoiding you, the flowers would go away on their own. Spoiler alert: they didn’t.

One day, you found Leona lying under his favorite tree, seemingly asleep. Except for the fact that his face was slightly scrunched up, and he was… holding a bouquet of sunflowers?

"Leona, are you okay? Why are you holding a bunch of—"

Before you could finish your sentence, Leona sneezed, sending a spray of sunflower petals flying everywhere.

"Seriously?" you said, crossing your arms. "You’re allergic to flowers now?"

Leona groaned, sitting up and glaring at the petals scattered around him. "It’s not allergies, herbivore."

"Oh. Ohhhh. This is hanahaki, isn’t it?"

Leona’s ears flattened against his head, his tail flicking irritably. "Tch. Yeah, whatever. So I’ve got hanahaki. Big deal."

You smirked, leaning down to meet his gaze. "So, who’s the lucky person that’s got you coughing up sunflowers?"

He shot you a look that could melt steel. "Don’t make me say it."

"Say what?" you teased, grinning. "That you have a crush on me?"

Leona’s lips curled into a frustrated snarl, but he didn’t deny it. You, however, found it oddly endearing. You sat down beside him, resting your head against his shoulder. "You know, if you just said something sooner, you wouldn’t have to deal with all this floral drama."

Leona sighed, finally letting his pride crumble. "Yeah, well… I guess I didn’t think you’d actually like me back."

You smiled, slipping your hand into his. "Looks like you were wrong, prince."

Azul Ashengrotto

Forget-me-nots symbolize true love, remembrance, and the desire to be unforgettable.

Azul thought he could handle it. After all, he was a master of contracts, deals, and manipulation. Surely he could manage a little thing like hanahaki, right? Wrong. The moment forget-me-nots began flooding his lungs, he knew he was in trouble.

He had tried everything. Eating seaweed soup, drinking warm tea, even avoiding you for a while. But every time you walked into the Monstro Lounge with that infectious smile, another batch of petals threatened to spill from his lips.

One day, you walked into the VIP room only to find Azul coughing into a napkin, looking suspiciously flustered.

"Azul, are you okay? You sound awful."

"I’m fine," he said, though his voice was hoarse. You noticed the blue petal sticking to the corner of his mouth, and your eyes widened.

"Wait… are you coughing up flowers? Is that… hanahaki?"

Azul stiffened, quickly stuffing the napkin into his pocket. "I… I don’t know what you’re talking about."

You raised an eyebrow. "Azul, I know a petal when I see one. Is there something you want to tell me?"

He looked away, clearly embarrassed. "I… may have developed feelings for someone," he muttered, his face turning a shade that almost matched the hydrangeas.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you couldn’t help but smile. "Really? And who might that be?"

Azul hesitated, his confidence wavering for the first time in a long while. "It’s… you."

Your smile widened as you leaned forward, gently brushing a petal from his cheek. "You could have just told me, you know. I like you too, Azul."

Azul blinked, clearly caught off guard by your confession. "You… do?"

"Of course I do," you said, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. "Now, let’s work on getting rid of those flowers before you drown in petals, okay?"

Jamil Viper

White gardenias represent purity, humility, and attachment.

Jamil had always prided himself on his self-control. But when white gardenias started blossoming in his chest, that control was tested like never before. It didn’t help that every time you walked into Scarabia with that bright, infectious energy, another flower seemed to bloom.

Jamil tried to avoid you as much as possible, focusing on his duties as Kalim's right-hand man. But one day, while preparing tea in the kitchen, you walked in unexpectedly, catching him mid-cough as a cluster of white petals floated to the ground.

"Jamil, are you okay?" you asked, moving closer. "You’ve been coughing a lot lately."

"I’m fine," he said quickly, wiping away the evidence. But it was too late—you had already noticed the petals.

"Jamil… are those gardenias?" you asked, eyes widening.

Jamil froze, realizing there was no way to hide it now. "I… yes," he admitted reluctantly.

You tilted your head, confused. "Wait… who do you have a crush on?"

Jamil looked away, his face flushed with embarrassment. "It’s… you."

You blinked, completely caught off guard. "Me?"

He nodded, clearly mortified. "I’ve been trying to keep it under control, but…"

You laughed softly, stepping closer and gently touching his arm. "You could’ve just told me, you know. I like you too, Jamil."

Jamil’s eyes widened, a look of pure relief washing over his face. "You… do?"

"Of course," you said, smiling warmly. "Now, let’s get rid of those flowers, okay?"

Vil Schoenheit

Purple lilacs signify the first emotions of love and pride.

Vil Schoenheit, perfection incarnate, found himself undone by the one thing he couldn't control: love. The moment purple lilacs started blooming in his chest, he knew he was in trouble. But, ever the professional, Vil tried to maintain his composure, even as the flowers threatened to spill from his lips every time you were near.

He spent weeks trying to cover it up, using his beauty products and makeup to hide the occasional petal that escaped. But one day, while rehearsing a scene with you in the Pomefiore dorm, he let out a cough that sent a cascade of purple petals fluttering to the ground.

"Vil?" you asked, concerned. "Are you okay?"

Vil sighed, knowing he couldn’t hide it anymore. "I’ve developed a… condition."

"Condition?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. "You mean hanahaki?"

He nodded, his usual confidence faltering. "Yes. And it’s because of you."

Your heart skipped a beat. "Me?"

Vil looked away, his voice softening as his usual poised demeanor faltered. "Yes, it’s because of you. The lilacs—" He gestured at the fallen petals, a touch of frustration and vulnerability in his eyes. "—are a sign of feelings I’ve been suppressing. I thought I could control them, but apparently, even I am not immune to such trivial things as unspoken love."

You blinked, utterly stunned. "Vil, you mean… you like me?"

His gaze met yours, golden and intense, and for once, Vil didn’t hide behind his mask of perfection. "Of course I do. You have this… light about you that pulls me in, even though I know I should stay composed. I’ve tried to ignore it, to keep things professional, but—" He coughed again, more petals spilling out. "Clearly, it didn’t work."

You couldn’t help but smile softly. "Vil, you don’t have to hide how you feel. I like you too."

His eyes widened, the surprise evident on his usually composed face. "You… do?"

You nodded, stepping closer. "You’ve always had this aura of untouchable beauty, but I’ve always admired more than just your looks. You’re passionate, driven, and underneath it all, incredibly kind. How could I not fall for you?"

Vil’s lips quirked into a small, relieved smile, the tension in his shoulders easing. "You certainly have a way with words. Thank you… for not making me feel foolish."

You smiled back and took his hand gently. "There’s nothing foolish about love, Vil. Let’s work on getting rid of these flowers, okay?"

For the first time in what felt like weeks, Vil felt truly at peace. The lilacs could bloom no more, now that his heart was finally unburdened.

Idia Shroud

Black daisies are a symbol of mystery, depth, and the unknown, often associated with secrecy and unspoken feelings.

Idia had always assumed he’d die alone, surrounded by his beloved games and tech, without the messiness of real-life emotions. But life, it seemed, had other plans, and those plans came in the form of black daisies—thick and suffocating, crawling up his throat every time he saw you.

For someone who preferred the solitude of his room, the thought of interacting with you was terrifying enough, but dealing with hanahaki? That was a nightmare. So, Idia did what he did best—he avoided you like the plague.

Unfortunately, his plan backfired one day when you burst into his room unannounced, holding a takeout bag and cheerfully asking if he wanted to eat lunch together. Idia spun around in his chair, trying to hide the fact that his hoodie pocket was stuffed full of crumpled napkins—each one littered with black daisy petals.

"S-Sure! I’d love to!" he stammered, though his voice cracked slightly. You gave him a strange look, noticing the sweat beading on his forehead.

"You okay, Idia? You’ve been acting really weird lately."

Before he could reply, he let out a loud cough, sending a flurry of black daisy petals across his desk. Idia froze, his eyes widening in horror.

"Oh no," he whispered under his breath. "No, no, no, not now…"

You stared at the petals, then at him. "Wait a second… is this… hanahaki?"

Idia turned about fifteen shades of red. "N-N-NO! I mean, y-yes, but…"

"But?" you pressed, stepping closer. "Who gave you hanahaki, Idia?"

He buried his face in his hands, mortified beyond belief. "Y-You! It’s because of you! I know it’s impossible and I’m an idiot for even thinking about it, but I—"

"Whoa, whoa, hold on!" you interrupted, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You like me?"

Idia peeked through his fingers, his hair flaring blue in embarrassment. "Y-Yes…?"

You chuckled softly, finding his awkwardness endearing. "Idia, you don’t have to be so nervous. I like you too."

He blinked, processing your words as if they didn’t compute. "Wait… what? Y-You do?"

You nodded, smiling at him. "Yeah, I think you’re really sweet. And your nerdy side is kind of adorable."

Idia’s face went from pale to bright pink in record time, his hair turning a neon shade of pink. "I-I think I’m gonna die."

You laughed, handing him a napkin. "How about we avoid that, okay?"

Malleus Draconia

Nightshade flowers represent danger, mystery, and passionate, dangerous love but also healing and protection.

Malleus wasn’t particularly bothered by the concept of hanahaki. After all, he was a powerful fae prince, one who had lived for centuries. But when the dark, velvety petals of nightshade began to fill his lungs every time he thought about you, he knew that even he wasn’t immune to the whims of the heart.

At first, he tried to rationalize it. He would stare at the nightshade petals, wondering if his fae biology was reacting to something. But deep down, he knew the truth. He had fallen for you—hard. And while Malleus wasn’t one to shy away from emotions, he hadn’t quite figured out how to express them yet.

One evening, you found him sitting in the courtyard of Diasomnia, looking unusually thoughtful. As you approached, he turned to greet you with a smile, but his voice was interrupted by a soft cough.

"Are you alright, Malleus?" you asked, concerned. "You’ve been coughing a lot lately."

He hesitated, clearly debating whether or not to tell you the truth. Then, with a soft sigh, he opened his hand to reveal a single, dark nightshade petal.

You blinked in surprise. "Wait… is that hanahaki?"

Malleus nodded slowly, his expression serious. "It is."

Your heart skipped a beat. "So… who’s the lucky person?"

He gazed at you, his eyes filled with an unspoken depth of emotion. "It’s you," he said simply.

You stared at him, stunned. "M-Me?"

Malleus nodded, his voice as gentle as the breeze. "I have cared for you for quite some time, but I did not wish to burden you with my feelings."

You felt your cheeks heat up as you stepped closer to him. "Malleus, I… I care about you too."

His eyes lit up with surprise, as if he hadn’t expected your confession. "You do?"

You nodded, smiling warmly. "I do. I didn’t realize you felt the same way."

Malleus smiled, the nightshade petals slowly fading from his chest. "Then perhaps we can face this together."

You took his hand, feeling the warmth of his magic flow through your fingers. "I’d like that."

Masterlist

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cameronspecial · 8 months ago

Text

Mrs. Cameron All But In Name

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.7K

Summary: When Y/N has to burrow Wheezie's phone to text Rafe, she notices something interesting about her contact name.

A/N: Inspired by this post.

Masterlist

Y/N and Rafe have been dating for three years now and it is clear they are meant to be together. If it weren’t for their young age, Y/N is sure they would be married or at least engaged by now. They practically act like an old married couple anyway, so when they do tie the knot, it would only really be for legal reasons. With dating Rafe, came a close relationship with his sisters. Sarah and Wheezie have practically become her own siblings and she loves to spend time with the girls. In fact, it��s why she has a bi-monthly girls' night with the pair. Yes, every time they have it they have to chase Rafe out of the house, but Y/N thinks it is important to foster the bond between them, so he always begrudgingly leaves to hang out with Kelce and Topper. “How are things with you and John B?” Y/N questions while tracking the nail polish brush along Wheezie’s nail. Sarah shrugs as she files her nails, “We’re fighting right now. He doesn’t want to go to the Nassau house with us and I want him to go.” “Aww, that sucks, Sweetie. I’m sure he’ll come around. Do you want me to have a talk with him?” Y/N offers. Sarah shakes her head, “No, it’s okay. We’ll make up eventually. We just need to cool off a little.” Y/N nods and finishes off the last coat of Wheezie’s nails. She releases the hand, “There you go, Beautiful. What colour do you want, Sarah?”

Sarah places the nail file on the table and examines her options before picking up a salmon pink polish from the collection. Y/N gets to work on doing the older Cameron sister’s nails, “How about you, Wheezie? Anyone on your radar you want to tell us about.” Wheezie lips pucker as she squints her eyes. “Nahh, I am happy being single. I see what you and Sarah go through with John B and Rafe. I do not need that type of problem,” she informs. The other girls giggle. Y/N checks her phone to see it is dead, “Amen to that, Wheeze. I mean look. My phone is dead, but how much do you want to bet that your brother is blowing up my phone right now asking me when he can come back home? Can I please borrow one of your phones to tell him my phone is dead while I charge mine?” “Of course, here,” Wheezie says, unlocking her phone so that Y/N can use it.

She places the nail polish on the table and scrolls through Wheezie’s messages to find the texts with Rafe. A certain contact name second down the list catches her eye. Y/N Cameron. She freezes at the sight. Her eyes flick toward the younger girl, “Why do you have my last name as yours?” Wheezie’s cheeks redden and her gaze falls away from her brother’s girlfriend. “Rafe did it. He said that it’s going to be your name eventually, so what difference does it make,” Wheezie states. Y/N chuckles with a shake of her head, “That doesn’t surprise me at all.” She types out her message and hits send. My phone is dead, so don’t freak out if I don’t respond. I’m charging my phone rn. -Mrs. Cameron.”

———

His phone chimes and a massive grin crosses his face. He checks his text, feeling his heart flutter at the message. So she found out what he’d been saving her name as in everyone’s contact. He chuckles. It took her long enough to find out. He’s been ordering everyone to change her last name in their contact for years. His smile doesn’t wipe off as he responds. Come on, Baby. You know you are my Mrs. Cameron all but in name. You can’t blame me for wanting to make the process easier for everyone else once we do take the next step.

Smh. You really are something else, Mr. Cameron.

But I’m your something else, Mrs. Cameron, but you know you love me.

You are lucky that I do. Now, I’m going to end this conversation here before you start dirty-talking me. I’m not subjecting Wheeze to those texts.

You know me so well, Baby.

Goodbye, Rafey. I love you.

I love you too, Baby. I’ll see you when I get home.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming

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charlietheepicwriter7 · 6 months ago

Text

Talia found Yasmin's hide out only two days after the bomb.

It wasn't easy. Yasmin had hidden herself well - her monthly reports had never mentioned an acquaintanceship with Vladimir Masters, the absolute gall of that girl - in the middle of nowhere Wisconsin. She bypassed the few security measures with ease, eventually finding her daughter sitting at a kitchen table, hyperventilating.

"What happened?" Talia's voice was cold and demanding.

"The-" Yasmin gasped before stealing herself. "The Fentons are dead."

"I know the Fentons are dead." Talia circled the girl. "One split navel to throat, the other strangled. What. Happened?"

"The Fentons discovered their son was a Meta. Specifically, they thought he had been replaced with the extradimentional species they study." She took a deep breath. "By the time I had discovered their actions, Daniel was... dissected on a table."

Talia closed her eyes. She knew from Yasmin's reports that she'd been acting as the Fenton child's primary caretaker since her adoption and a fondness had developed. "Yasmin-"

"Don't, Mother." She snapped. "Don't act like this is anything less than a tragedy."

"I know-"

"He was a child-"

"Everything's been taken care of," Talia said. "As far as the authorities are concerned, Jasmine Fenton died in that explosion you caused. You need to return now-"

"No!" Yasmin bolted to her feet, glaring at Talia. "He's dead, Mother! An innocent child, the child I raised as my own, is dead because I couldn't protect him! Don't you dare try to sweep this under the rug like... like Danny was something shameful! I'm not leaving! I have to-"

Time Out.

Yasmin shut her mouth mid-sentence, giving Talia time to convince her off her self-destructive path.

"What happened to Daniel is a tragedy, Yasmin. But wallowing in grief and what-ifs only leads to further pain." Talia sighed. "The Fentons and the research you were so fascinated with are gone now. You made sure of that. It's time for you to return home and put that knowledge to use."

Yasmin stared down at her hands. Odd that Talia hadn't noticed, but Yasmin's hands cradled a small, dark blue jewel, polished into a smooth, oblong oval. It glittered under the candlelight, like stars in the sky.

Yasmin swallowed the rock and spoke, refusing to acknowledge what she'd just done. "You are right, Mother. The time of Jasmine Fenton is gone now." She stared straight at Talia, no trace of fear in her gaze. For a moment, Talia wondered where her child had gone. Yasmin never met her eyes unless prompted to when she was growing up. Now she was met with a younger version of herself with cheap dyed-red hair, with the same level of determination that made Talia the Right Hand of the Demon Head. "I will mourn for Danny... on my own time. For now, what is my mission?"

Talia studied her daughter. There was a reason why she'd hidden the girl so far out of the way of her Father and her son. Yasmin was a strong fighter, but had her father's heart, despite her willingness to kill. She'd always reminded Talia of a bodyguard rather than an assassin, but Yasmin wanted to go her own way, wanted to study everything. For years, Talia had indulged her daughter, but now it was time for her to return to the fold.

"For the next month, you will be training to remove any weakness the Fentons may have left in you. After that, you will be guarding an ally for me."

"Which ally?"

"A boy a few years older than you, a son of the Bat." Yasmin didn't react to the mention of her father. Good. "His mind is infirm, but by the time you finish your training, he will be ready to strike a blow against Gotham. You will act as his guard during his training and act as my spy while he's in Gotham. Do you understand?"

For a moment, Yasmin's hand brushed her stomach before she forced her fists to her sides. "Yes, Mother. I will do as you ask."

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dcxdp #jasmine al ghul #yasmin al ghul #c: talia al ghul #c: clockwork #c: danny fenton #reincarnated danny fenton #Or re-grown might be the better term #danny needs to regrow his human body after the Fentons killed him #danny could have been reincarnated properly; it would have taken a few years maybe decades but it would have happened #clockwork gives Jazz/Yasmin the choice to raise Danny as her own son from her own blood #and when Jazz compares her life as an assassin/spy to that as Danny's (sweet loving Danny who adored her) caretaker #she knows which life she can't live without #also Yasmin does know Damian exists but has never met him #she knows there's a heir and knows its her full-blooded brother but that's it - no emotional connection so she doesn't care #I can see this ending up Anger Management with a side of pre-reveal Red Hood Jason thinking he's the baby daddy #with Jazz violently disagreeing with that assumption

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naoyoki · 1 month ago

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☆pinned

i loved writing this + short requests (3) r open while i write for a multicharater piece :3

sea god!nanami who falls in love at first sight with a fresh water nymph. nanami was always a serious and stoic god compared to his counterparts. he was a man driven by his obligations, even if he had a disdain for overworking himself.

but that all subsided once he met you by the beach. sea god!nanami was surveying the coast near his temple where he saw a fresh body of water falling from a cliff and streaming down the sand to meet his salty domain. you lead wild horses to a small bank forming on this little river for them to quench their thirst.

but sea god!nanami was left to admire your beauty in his mind as he spooked you away with his presence. resting on his temple he couldn't help but reminisce the silky wet robes hugging your body as the sun began to set. your damp, braided hair moving along the wind and your gentle gaze towards the horses you were tending.

but what sea god!nanami could not flick off his mind was the terror in your eyes once your gaze fixed on him. dropping the water you were supplying to a little foal and running towards the waterfall, completely disappearing afterwards.

so sea god!nanami took it upon himself to change the first impression you had of him. every moment before sunset, he would walk up to the waterfall and leave shells and pearls for you to take. remaining there until the stars appeared or moon rose for you to know that it was him that brought these little trinkets.

and sea god!nanami was well aware of nymphs love for trinkets. so he knew he had partially won you over when one day a single polished red rock appeared where he'd placed his shells, sea glass or anything lost he found at high sea. he even snuck some of his temple offerings at the waterfall for you to have. and so on, he kept every rock and flower you placed for him to keep.

and every single visit was worth while because as sea god!nanami stepped out of the waves to offer you a starfish shaped hairpin from a nearby ship wreak, you were there. sitting at the usual rock nanami sat at and place trinkets by the waterfalls side, seemingly waiting.

"blond man!" nanami gasped a chuckle as he stepped closer. the cold fresh water telling him that this moment was real, "what were you doing in the ocean? you could've drowned!"

the god could no longer hold a straight face, his smile beamed and a deep but audible laugh sang along the crashing of water, "i am serious, did you give the god a prayer before going in and taking what's his? they say he's quite the-"

but you understood, the second he was mere steps near you, his divinity could not be unnoticed by this proximity, "m-my lord!"

you sunk to the ground, your knees dug deep and your head hung low, low enough for your nose to touch the rough sand, "forgive my impudence and recklessness...i-if i had known!"

sea god!nanami noticed the tremble in your voice, however, he was left quite puzzled, "you're a god too, you do not have to grovel for me."

"oh! how could i-," you jolted your head up, meeting his at your level. your liquid heart began to boil out, such a divine and handsome face! you were quick to distance yourself, "dear forgive me. i have been nothing but insolent! i thought you might have been one of his sons. but it was the lord himself!"

nanami stood, perplexed there was an idea of him like that, "come."

he extended his hand towards you, reluctantly, you agreed. now, you could see this god in all his essence. and his touch was as smooth as the rocks you brought him, and thinking about giving rocks to a literal god made your head recoil in self hatred.

but that thought was overshadowed by the gentle caress of sea god!nanami, who began to wipe off the residues of sand on your nose with his thumb. rushing to shelter your nose as he finishes he continues, "i thought of you when i picked this hairpin, do you want to know where i got it?"

his voice was neat as he lead you back with his arm around you to your special spot, "i would love to!"

signed by naoyoki

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loveyouprongs · 10 months ago

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are you awake?

prompt: "are you awake yet?" "no." "oh, okay sorry." remus lupin x reader

upcoming content: fluff! pls lmk if u think i missed anything. 1.8k words

authors note: despite any photos used in the header, it’s important that people of all races can identify with my work so please let me know if any of the descriptive language i use is exclusionary, i’m trying my best!

masterlist

you had no idea what time it was, your phone abandoned on the night stand atop remus' book. he had come over in a huff, one hand holding his cellphone, keys, and book all at once, the other holding a warm cup of hot chocolate he had picked up along the way.

"rem, is that you?" you called, fumbling with wrapping a towel around your just washed hair while keeping the other towel tucked under your arms. you weren't expecting to see him today at all, he had, in his own words, a fucking shitload of reading to catch up on and planned on spending the entire weekend holed up in his room.

you understood, having just finished your own finals, so you planned on spending the evening watching movies and finally removing the old nail polish that decorated your toes and repainting them. an easy, uneventful night.

“yeah, it’s me dove,” remus said, bending down to untie his laces, “sorry for just barging in on you like thi- did you just take a shower?”

he snapped his head up and drank you in, your body still damp from the hot water and the ends of the towel wrapped around your chest fell apart against your thigh revealing more of your smooth skin. your face was free of makeup or the tendrils of hair that constantly fell between your eyes that remus always brushed away.

“y’don’t have to do that every time, remus,” you said on your fourth date when his fingertips danced against your forehead once more that evening.

“you have to be able to see, darling, i don’t mind,” he replied as if this was something he was doing as a favor to you and not because he was so desperate to touch you in any way.

you looked beautiful, he thought.

“thank you, baby,” you let out, giggling at the sigh of your boyfriend still bent half over himself, looking up at you as if you would disappear if he wasn’t.

“did i say that out loud?”

“you did.”

“well, it’s true,” he had since walked over to you, setting his phone, keys, book and cup on the table and grasped at your shoulders, stamping a kiss to your forehead. in this moment, he felt all his tension wash away and reveled in the feeling of your warm skin under his and the vanilla scent of your shampoo wafting around him. he didn’t even remember why he was in such an annoyed mood earlier until you asked him how come he came over.

“ugh, i have to move out!” he exclaimed. this is something remus said maybe four times a week, seven if it was really bad. when james left his dishes piled up in the sink for too long, “i have to move out!” remus would say while ranting to you over breakfast the next day. when they went on a trip for a few days and sirius forgot to pack any underwear so he took it upon himself to borrow remus’, you woke up to a text from your boyfriend that simply read “i have to move out.” sent at 2:18 a.m. then “good morning” at 2:19 a.m. and “you better not be awake right now, dovey” at 2:20 a.m.

“what happened this time?”

“was trying to study ‘til those idiots had the bright idea of rolling bottles down the stairs, i mean who even thinks of that?”

you had to bite your lip to keep in your laughter. you had seen that trend all down your social media so you knew exactly where they got the idea from. but your sweet remus who had no profiles whatsoever, -unless you count the facebook page he made when james told him he had to have one at least-

“what do you mean it doesn’t count? you can share photos and talk to people.”

“it’s facebook! only mums use it. i’m making you a BeReal.”

“you’re making me be real?”

“oh, nevermind.”

had no idea and believed this was just another stupid activity his roommates shared brain cell came up with.

“i don’t know, remmy, people are weird,”

“right? anyway, i sat through listening to ‘clunk, clunk, clunk, smash! again, again, again!’ for about fifteen minutes before i had to get out of there so i thought to come here.”

a warmth started growing within your chest and spreading throughout your entire body. he thought to come here, to your place. your lanky, fluffy haired, nerdy boyfriend who you loved so so much thought to come to you. the smile that had spread across your face was so wide you knew remus knew exactly how you were feeling.

“don’t go all moony eyed on me now, sweetness,” he began, “i’m here because i still have a lot of work to do.”

“of course”

“with no distractions, at least for the next few hours,” he was looking down at you with a familiar look in his eye and you couldn’t even bother to feign cluelessness. the image of remus bent over a book, concentrated look on his face and glasses slowly slipping down his nose was irresistible to you and when you two studied together, it caused a lot of assignments to go untouched.

“alright, i’ll leave you be. but i expect some form of compensation for my good behavior.”

“hence the hot chocolate, for you dove,” he handed you the tall paper cup he had brought in with him and you smiled as it was still warm enough to drink.

“oh wow, my boyfriend and a hot chocolate? it’s like my birthday!” you laughed as remus rolled his eyes and started setting himself up at your kitchen table.

“you can’t say that whenever i get you something, you need to have higher expectations for your birthday silly girl, or i really will just get you a drink and that’ll be it.” he said and the last thing he heard was you laughing down the hallway.

hours had passed and your hair was dry, toe nails now a light peachy color, and one and a half movies had been watched. you mainly kept to your room, only coming out to get a drink and set some biscuits out for remus who hadn’t even looked up. you were sure a bomb could off in the building across the street and he wouldn’t notice. he was so concentrated that all you wanted to do was press your fingers to his temples and relieve his pretty face of the wrinkles, surely his eyes were sore as well, but you knew better than to bother him.

it wasn’t until it was dark out that remus had finally slumped against your bedroom door and trudged like a zombie to your bed, face planting right into your lap. his calves were hanging over the edge so you grabbed his face and shuffled yourselves closer to the headboard. remus was laughing, the feel of his lips tickling your stomach, and with that information he only began to blow raspberries on your belly button.

“remus stop i’m serious!” you let out and lifted his head up, your hands pushing his cheeks up causing his lips to reach up into a smile. he looked so soft, and happy, but obviously tired.

“‘m finished with all m’reading, dove,” his speech was slurred, surely from exhaustion.

“i’m very proud of you baby, you’re so hard working.”

he wrapped the comforter around both of you, and flipped onto his side, pressing his back to your front. he must have been really out of it because he never let you be the big spoon.

“but don’t you like being held?”

“i like holding you. besides it just makes more sense that way, i’m much taller.”

“there’s no sense to cuddling!”

“there’s sense to everything!”

“i am hard working! and they don’t care, all they care about is smashing things and making lots of noise. i have to move out.” he grumbled.

you ran your fingers through his hair, letting him mumble on, knowing he’ll soon fall asleep.

“well, you’re always welcome here, my love.”

he sighed and pressed a kiss to your wrist, “i know,” he spoke softly, the two words so full of content he could hardly stand it. he thought every day how lucky he was to have you in his life. a love full of soft kisses and hot chocolates and intertwining under moonlight. “i love you so much.”

“i love you too, now get some sleep.”

the night had come and gone, remus sleeping away in your arms and the sun was shining through your curtains. you slowly lifted your arm off him and felt around for your phone, careful not to disturb him. the screen flashed 10:15 a.m., meaning remus had been sleeping for close to twelve hours now.

it made sense due to how tired he was yesterday, but you had done nothing but relax, so your body was ready to get up and start the day. you answered a few messages telling marlene you’d had to get back to her about if you and remus could make it to brunch in a few hours and sending a rolling eyes emoji to james who sent you a number of videos of bottles rolling down the stairs.

remus shifted, unconsciously flexing his back, and you froze. it wasn’t until he began cracking his knuckles individually that you knew he was awake, you still asked though.

“are you awake yet.”

“no.”

“oh, okay, sorry.”

“mmm.”

two minutes passed, “are you awake now.”

“are my eyes open?”

“no, but you are speaking to me, and this isn’t what you usually say when you sleep talk.”

“i don’t sleep talk!” he let out, craning his neck to look at you perplexedly.

“got you to open your eyes, didn’t i?” you said with a wry smile. his look of confusion morphed into annoyance that you both knew was fake and he fully turned so you were both facing each other now.

“i haven’t slept that good in a long time,” he said lowly, his voice still rough from sleep.

“finals are over now, rem, you can sleep for as long as you want.”

he smiled and tangled your fingers together, opening his mouth to say something back when his stomach rumbled loudly.

“that wasn’t very sexy, was it?”

you giggled and shook your head, finally throwing the covers off yourself.

“nope, but that’s okay, marlene wants us to meet her for brunch in thirty minutes, so we better get a move on, sleepy head.”

remus groaned and reached for his designated dresser from the bed and pulled out whatever shirt and bottoms were on the top of the piles. the two of you got ready in comfortable silence and while you were sitting on the floor, pulling up the zipper on your boots, remus realized that he really could see himself moving in here. always doing his course work at your kitchen table, picking up a hot drink for you at the coffee shop two streets away, not because it was on his way to you, but because it was on his way home.

“ready, baby?” you asked, now standing at full height, holding your hand out to him.

i’m ready to wake up here every morning. “ready,” he said, wrapping his hand around yours.

#remus lupin #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin fic #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #mauraders #mauraders fandom #remus lupin fanfiction #maurauders era #marauders fanfiction #remus lupin fancast #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin drabble #remus fluff #remus imagine #remus x reader #remus x fem!reader #loveyouprongs

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torpublishinggroup · 1 month ago

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This advertisement is for Swordcrossed by Freya Marske.

WHAT’S IT ABOUT

Mattinesh Jay is the chronically responsible eldest son and dutiful heir striving to keep his family’s business running. Luca Piere is a menace of a con artist desperately trying to escape his past by taking up the blade. When the pair meet, swords clash, and sparks fly. Soon, they’re entangled in a conspiracy that may bring Matti’s house to ruin if they don’t work together.

Want to see if it’s to your liking? We’ve included an excerpt from chapter one below.

Chapter 1 Matti laid his fingers on the polished edge of the bar’s wooden surface and forced himself to stop counting sheep. And yards of twill. And looms in need of repair, and outstanding debts.

Instead, he counted today’s collection of ink smudges, bruise-black on the brown skin of his hands: six. He counted the number of blue dyes that would have been used in the fabric of the bartender’s layered skirt: four, possibly five if the palest shade was true dimflower and not just the result of fading.

The tense throb of pain like a fist clenched in his hair eased, grudgingly, to a quiet ache. Bearable. Normal.

It was busy in the drinking house, the post-dinner hour that usually found Matti heading back to his study to finish the paperwork that a member of his family had tugged him away from in order to eat. Matti counted the number of flavoured jenever bottles on the shelf behind the bar—fifteen—in the time it took Audry to finish serving her current customer and sweep her sky-coloured skirts to stand in front of Matti. “And here’s a face we haven’t seen in a while! Something tells me you’re here for a celebration, Mr. Jay.”

Matti hoped the smile he’d pulled onto his face wasn’t the wrong size, or the wrong shade of abashed. “News travels fast.”

“Mattinesh Jay and Sofia Cooper. A match surprising exactly no one.”

Matti kept the smile going. There was a silence in which Audry politely didn’t say, Pity she’s in love with someone else, and so Matti didn’t have to say, Yes, isn’t it?Audry said, “Wait here a moment. I’ve got something in the back that I think will do nicely.”

Matti cast a glance over the room as Audry disappeared. His cousin Roland made an extravagant sighing motion and pretended to check his watch when Matti’s eyes landed on their table. A burst of laughter came from a dark-skinned woman nearby; she was wearing a dress that rode high at the knee to reveal a fall of lace like frothing water, a northern style of garment that Matti’s own northerner mother seldom wore these days.

At the closest table the Mason Guildmaster, Lysbette Martens, was deep in conversation with a senior member of the Guild of Engineers. Martens met Matti’s gaze with her own and nodded brief acknowledgement. He was sure she was weighing his presence as consciously as he was weighing hers. This was a place to be seen, after all.

“Here you are. Red wine for young lovers.”

Matti turned around again. Audry named the price for the bottle as she uncorked it and set it on the bar. Matti paid her, ignoring the lurch like a fishhook in his stomach at the amount on the credit notes he was so casually handing over. Mattinesh Jay, firstborn of his distinguished House, had no reason not to indulge in one of the finest bottles of wine that money could buy.

No reason that anyone here would know about, anyway.

Matti took the bottle in one hand and hooked three glasses with the other. Making his way over to the table, his mind circled back to dwell on the wrong sort of numbers. The money in Matti’s purse was painstakingly calculated: enough for the first round of engagement drinks, and enough for him to hire a top-of-the-range duellist who would step forward in the awkwardly likely event of someone challenging for Sofia’s hand at the wedding itself.

Matti’s skin prickled cold at the very thought of what might happen if Adrean Vane challenged against Matti’s marriage to Sofia and won. His family’s last hope would be gone. Matti would have failed them in this, the most useful thing he could do for them.

He was so caught up in this uneasy imagining as he wove through the room that he collided, hard, with another person’s shoulder. Matti was both tall and broad, not easily unbalanced; the unfortunate other member of the collision made a grab for Matti’s coat, couldn’t get a good grip, and tripped to the ground with a caught-back “Fu—”

Matti tried to step backwards. They were crammed into a small space between tables and there were people moving around them. His first panicked instinct had been to keep the wine bottle upright and the glasses safe, so he didn’t have a hand free to steady himself on a chair.

He wasn’t quite sure what happened next, except that he ended up wobbling and stepping forward instead, and he felt his boot come down on something that was not the floorboards. A small, pathetic, grinding mechanical sound crawled up Matti’s nerves, heel to head, and reached his ears even amidst the noise of the busy room.

“Sorry!” he said at once. “I’m sorry. Was that—Oh, Huna’s teeth.”

The man on the floor jerked his head up, staring at Matti, and Matti stared back.

For a moment all that Matti could see was the wide, straight line of the man’s mouth, set beneath an equally straight nose, and the frame that set off the whole: the dark, luminous copper-red hair that seemed to be trying to grow in about ten different directions.

The man’s tongue darted out in a nervous mannerism, wetting his lower lip. Something in Matti’s own mouth tried to happen in a yearning echo.

“Would you please lift,” the man said precisely, “your godsdamned foot?” Heat flooded Matti’s face. He snatched his foot backwards with enough force that his heel collided with a chair leg.

The redheaded man stood, his fingers closed convulsively tight around a small velvet bag. His brown coat was shabby and made of a coarsely woven fabric, though his shirt was good and his trousers had probably been equally so before they’d been overwashed into a patchy shine.

“Fuck fuck shitting—fuck,” the man said in tones of despair, with a lilt to his accent that placed him at least one city-state farther east: Cienne, or possibly Sanoy. He shook the contents of the bag into his palm and ventured into new realms of inappropriate language as he did so.

Enough people had witnessed their collision, or had their heads turned by the stream of expletives, that there were a fair few necks craning to see what was in the man’s hand. Matti, at whom the shaking fingers of this hand were pointed most directly, couldn’t help seeing for himself the ragged, glinting pile of cogs and jewels and glass. Only the intact cover—monogrammed in a swirling, engraved H—spoke of this pile’s previous existence as a pocket watch. A very expensive pocket watch, by the look of it.

The man’s breath hissed out through his teeth. “Guildmaster Havelot is going to use my arm bones as a fucking lathe. He only had it made to order, and he only trusted me to pick it up, didn’t he? Two hundred gold. Fucking fuck.”

“I’m so sorry,” Matti said again. He recognised the name: Havelot was the Woodworker Guildmaster in Cienne. “Truly. I can—” He stopped. The abrupt lack of his words created a silence that seemed to suck noise into itself, as conversations died to murmurs and the onlookers sensed something interesting.

The man looked straight at Matti with a stubborn lift of his chin. His brows, the same absurd colour as the rest of his hair, had sprung up into the beginnings of hope; as Matti’s silence grew longer, they lowered again. And then lowered farther. He swept a look down and then slowly up Matti’s own outfit, and now pride warred with scorn in the way those maddening lips pressed together.

Matti felt sick. His own coat was made of the finest wool, a midnight blue cut perfectly to his figure, and the rest of his clothes were of the same quality. He was holding a bottle of extremely good wine. Anybody looking at him would make immediate assumptions about the amount of ready money that Matti might have, and the ease with which he would be able to reimburse a poor clerk, if he’d just ruined a pricey piece of artificer’s skill that the man’s employer had trusted him to travel all the way to Glassport to collect.

Of course they would make these assumptions. That was the point.

Matti swallowed and felt the burning heaviness of his purse redouble. He’d be left with enough to a hire a duellist, yes, but not one of the highest skill. It wouldn’t buy himself and his family the absolute security they needed.

His friends were looking at him. It seemed like every pair of eyes in the drinking house was looking, and in another moment the murmurs of curiosity would turn to murmurs of disapprobation. I thought Matti Jay had more honour than that, they would say. What’s two hundred gold to someone like him?

Besides, the plain fact of the matter was that Matti had broken the watch. And he couldn’t pretend that he and this man with his proud mouth and poor coat, patched at one elbow, were on an equal footing. Even if he were left without a bronze, Matti would still have influence, connections, the weight of his family’s name. That was still worth something. For now.

So that was that.

“I—I really am sorry.” Matti set the wine and glasses down on the corner of the nearest table and pulled his purse from inside his coat. He kept his gaze on the man’s face, on a pair of eyes that were either grey or brown—impossible to tell from this angle—and urgently willed them not to look away. To a degree that seemed irrational, he wanted to banish the judgemental expression from the man’s face. “Of course I’ll cover the cost. Two hundred gold. Who did the work?”

The man glanced down at the metal scraps in his hand, as though the answer might be hidden in the pile. “Speck,” he said at last. “Frans Speck, in Amber Lane.”

“He’s a fair man. Tell him what happened and he’ll rush through the repair job,” Matti said. He held out the century notes.

The man tipped the wreckage of the watch back into the bag and closed his hand around the money, slow and wary. His fingertips had rough patches that scraped against Matti’s own, sending a tingle up Matti’s arm.

“I appreciate it,” the man said. He looked less cold now, though still nowhere near warm. “You’ve saved my life. Really.”

Matti forced himself to smile. Forced himself to say, “It’s nothing,” as though it really were nothing.

The man nodded awkwardly at Matti and tucked both money and bag into a pocket. Then he turned and was gone, headed for the door.

Matti somehow made his way to his table and sat down. His heart was pounding so loudly that he could barely hear anything else, and he wanted to shout at his own blood to be quiet and let him think. He needed to be alone in his study. He needed to contemplate his options, and make lists, and pore over the accounts for the thousandth time, in case they transmuted themselves into a picture of prosperity instead of the ugly, desperate reality that nobody outside of Matti’s immediate family knew about.

“Two hundred gold,” he said, before he could stop himself. “Two hundred.”

“We saw. Hard luck,” his cousin Roland said, making a face.

Perhaps it was stretching the term to call Roland and Wynn his friends, but they were the closest thing Matti had to members of that category, and the only people he’d been able to think of to form his wedding party. At least the three of them never found it too hard to pick up their acquaintanceship again, even if it had been months since their last conversation.

Wynn turned the bottle of wine to inspect the yellow butterfly on the label. “How appropriate that we’re drinking wine from your betrothed’s own winery.”

“Audry’s idea of a joke, I think,” Matti said. The word betrothed had landed in his ears like a piece of music played in an unfamiliar key; his mind was still turning it over, trying to decide how it felt about the melody. His hand was shaking as he poured the first glass, sending the stream of dark wine shivering and slipping. He’d steadied it by the time he poured the second.

“Huna smile,” he said, opening the toasts by lifting his own glass. “Thanks for agreeing to stand up with me, you two.”

“Drown your sorrows in this one, and by the time we hit the next bottle you’ll remember that you’re here to celebrate. And that once you’re married to Sofia Cooper,” Roland went on, lowering his voice sympathetically, “Jay House will be rolling in enough money to replace a hundred watches.”

Except that Matti had to get himself successfully married in the first place. And he’d just lost his best guarantee of doing so.

He let the old, gorgeous wine flood down his throat until a good third of his glass had vanished. He felt lightheaded; it had to be panic, because the wine couldn’t be working that fast. Panic and a sense of becoming unmoored. And the image of the man’s face, pale and sharply beautiful, gazing up from where he was kneeling at Matti’s feet.

“A fair effort,” Wynn said, when Matti put the glass down. “But I’ll show you children of Huna how it’s done.” He raised his own glass. “Agar fill your plates and cups.”

Matti smiled and drank again, accepting the toast. Maybe the wine was working after all. He could still feel his panic, the wound-up watch of his worry, but he shoved it away into a recess of his mind: its own small, dark velvet bag. It would be safe enough there. It would last until tomorrow. Matti’s ability to worry was shatterproof.

For now, he was going to drink.

#Bramble #Booklr #New books #Tbr #Swordcrossed #Freya Marske #LGBTQ #Fantasy #Romance

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nebulaeternal · 2 months ago

Text

✧༺┆✦Reflections of Desire✦┆༻✩

―୨୧⋆ ˚GENRE/WARNING: smut, jealous sylus, mirror kink, slight bondage, breeding kink, orgasm denial, orgasm control, mirror sex, porn w/ little plot, alcohol mention. ―୨୧⋆ ˚SUMMARY: While attending a high-society event, Sylus experiences a slip of professionalism as he slowly becomes consumed by his jealousy and his fantasy after watching his partner in crime flirt with their target. ―୨୧⋆ ˚WORD COUNT: 4.3K ―୨୧⋆ ˚A/N: Hello! This is my first real post on here. It's been a while since I've written so it may be a bit rusty, but I hope you enjoy! (I did go back and edit this a couple times cause I kept getting ideas, so if you’re revisiting, I hope you enjoy~) ―୨୧⋆ ˚LINKS: AO3 Version, Twitter(come interact with me!)

During the time that you’ve known Sylus, it was an intriguing fact that the crimson-eyed crow had harbored a fascination with mirrors. If you recall correctly, he had several decorative mirrors placed meticulously throughout his mansion, either adorned with beautifully intricate details or simple sleet yet elegant designs. While it was in the nature of a crow to collect shiny objects, for a man like Sylus it was somewhat out of character for him.

You hadn’t given it much thought–that is, until you caught him gazing intently at you through the reflection of the mirror, as you put on the finishing touches to your makeup. Your eyes locked, and you watched as a smirk creeped onto his face, shamelessly checking you out. You rolled your eyes and returned to the task at hand–your makeup.

Slowly and deliberately, you brought the lip gloss to your lips, applying it in a rather sensuous and seductive manner, something Sylus took great pleasure in watching, captivated by the way your lips moved against the tube. His mind slipped, losing himself in thought, indulging in the fantasy of kissing you, stealing your breath right from your lungs, watching as your lips grew glossy and plush, like pillows he so desperately wanted to lay his lips on.

“Ok, I’m ready. Let’s go.” you chirped, turning on your heel to face him. Sylus remained silent, his gaze darkening and unyielding, eyes slowly trailing down your figure. He savored the way your custom-tailored dress clung perfectly to your body, memorizing the way it twisted and curved over your skin.

He couldn’t resist the pull, the sound of his polished dress shoes clicking against the floor. Your eyes followed him until his body was pressed flush against yours, arms slipping around your waist. “God, you’re so beautiful. I’ll never get tired of this.” He says just above a whisper as his face hovered only inches above yours, eyes flickering down to your lips once more.

A light blush crept onto your face, a smirk gracing your features as you wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him impossibly closer. “For you, Love? I’ll do it again and again.” you teased, lips brushing lightly against his. You knew exactly what that would do to him and it was driving him crazy.

The two of you stood there, holding each other, gazed locked and burning with an intense flame of passion, tension in the air so thick you could cut it with a knife. Sylus’s arms tighten around you, as he backed you into the vanity mirror behind you, taking a quick glance at your reflections, noting how small you were against him.

Moments before desire flooded his senses, he cleared his throat, pulling back slightly, composing himself a little. “We better get going or we won’t make it at all.” His voice was low and gruff as he pulled away, fighting to keep his desire under check. “Shall we?” he asks, holding out his arm, ready for you to take it.

You smoothed out your dress before linking your arm through his, taking your customary place at his side. Sylus led the two of you out the door to his Maserati, opening the passenger door with practice elegance. Like the gentleman he was, he ensured your dress was carefully tucked inside before gently closing it and heading around to the driver’s side.

He slid into the car and started up the ignition before taking off with speed. As he drove, the two of you reviewed the details of the mission–after all, that was the real reason you were headed to the damn party to begin with. “Stay close when the targets bite.” you remind him, almost shivering at the thought of how many creeps lurked out there.

“You know how men can be,” he said, flashing you his signature, confident smirk. “Now Sweetie, you know I would never leave your side.” He added smugly, causing you to giggle despite the slight tension that lingered in the air.

Upon arriving at the party scene, the place was dimly lit, small talk and occasional laughter filling the otherwise quiet atmosphere. You exchanged a final nod with Sylus before parting ways to carry out assigned tasks. You positioned yourself at the bar, using Sylus’s black card to buy yourself a drink, all part of the elaborate ruse you were crafting.

The bartender returned with a glass of red wine, and almost on cue, one of your targets slid up beside you. What’s a beautiful lady like you doing all alone at the bar? No escort?” he asked, his eyes greedily taking you in. You raised your wine glass to your lips, meeting his gaze while you sipped at the deep red liquid.

Feigning interest in the unfortunate man, you lowered the glass and replied, “Just enjoying a quiet moment,” your voice as smooth as the wine you just tasted. You flashed an innocent yet seductive smile, Bringing the wine glass to your lips once more, taking a sip watching him intently. He had taken this as an invitation to lean closer, his breath reeking of cigarettes.

“You don’t seem like the type to be alone.” Fighting against the urge to curl away from his antics, feeling disgusted by his behavior. Your eyes scanned his figure up and down, slowly trailing, such a convincing act you put on. “Maybe I was just waiting for the right company.” You tease, chuckling whilst you swirl the wine in your glass before gently setting it down again.

The man before you gave a smirk, convincing himself that he was winning his way into your–well panties. “Well, it looks like you’ve found it.” Giggling at his comment, you proceeded with your playful banter. Sylus was on the other end of your meticulously concealed earpiece, listening to the exchanges that occurred between the two of you.

That last giggle you let out fueled the fire of Sylus’s growing irritation. He groaned in frustration–after all, that playful behavior was typically reserved for him and only him, however, he was there to help complete a mission, and he could not by any means, let his possessive nature get the better of him.

As luck would have it, you managed to extract the information you needed from the pitiful excuse of a man, before putting on one final Oscar-worthy performance and bidding him a farewell. As you walked away, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. The tension finally leaving your body as you headed towards the bathroom to escape the noise.

With a clearer head, it dawned on you that you had not heard from Sylus since your flirtatious incident with the man at the bar. Ultimately, it was not the most pressing matter, knowing that he could handle himself. You’d look for him after taking a moment to breathe and splash yourself with some cold water.

As you turned the corner to the bathroom, a firm grip seized our arm, spinning you around before cupping a hand over your mouth, muffling your attempt at a cry for help. Panic surged through your body, heart thumping out of your chest.

With wide eyes, you found yourself face to face with none other than the crimson eyed man, his appearance almost disheveled as he pressed you against the wall. Relief washed through you as you realized it wasn’t an intruder. Gently, you pulled his hand away from your mouth. “God, you scared the hell out of me, Sy.” you said, eyeing him up and down. His usual composure was replaced with something more desperate, needy even–breath ragged and raw, need lingering in his gaze

“Sorry, Love, I didn’t mean to startle you.” he murmured, his voice almost breathless, something you found rather amusing. He was usually so poised. He placed his hands on your hips smirking, questions arose within you.

“What happened to y-” your words were abruptly cut off as he swiftly pulled the two of you into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He stood there for a moment, still turned to the door while you turned to the sink to splash some cold water on your neck.

The faucet handle squeaks to a stop. Once more, you caught Sylus’s reflection in the mirror, his gaze boring into yours, burning with intensity, just as he had earlier that evening. His eyes roamed hungrily over your body, watching the tendrils of hair that stuck to your damp neck, water droplets slowly trailing down your skin, pooling in the hollows of your collarbones. The sight before him was too tempting for him to ignore, his clothes feeling unbearably tight and restricting against his body. He could no longer resist his urges.

Hearing the all familiar click of shoes against the floor, his steps grew closer, once again taking in the sight of your body from behind. You attempt to turn around and meet his gaze but was promptly interrupted by his deep sultry voice, soft yet commanding, all while his hands slipped onto your hips, steading you by the hips “Don’t turn around..” he murmured as he pulled you closer to him.

His crotch was pressed against your bottom, chest flush against your back. Your face began to burn, you could feel him, all of him. Instinctively, you exposed your neck to him, to which he eagerly latched his lips onto the skin where your neck and shoulder meet, eyes boring deep into you. He took pleasure in watching every second of what he was doing to you, seeing how your eyebrows furrowed upwards, in such a pleasurable manner, one he found cute. Your jaw went slack as the air was filled with your pants and gasps.

You moaned softly as you felt the suction from his lips against your skin “Sylus..not here-” attempting to steal a glance at his direction but was quickly interjected by his hand gripping your jaw gently yet firmly, turning your head back towards the mirror “Eyes on the mirror, Kitten.”

Before you could even protest, the man drew out, yet another moan from your lips, littering your neck with kisses and love bites. Your body grew weaker with each passing second, feeling yourself begging to crumple from the pleasure. Bracing yourself for his lustful antics, you put your arms on the sink, propping your body up while his arms trailed and roamed. “Sy…hng..wait..” you were hushed once more. He bared his teeth, revealing his subtle fangs that you love so much, and sunk them into your skin, effectively hushing you momentarily. “Shhh, let me have this. I didn’t like the way you were flirting with that man.”

The mirror before you was already starting to fog up. Had it not been for the rapping of fingers against the door, it would have only gotten foggier, immediately alerting you two that your time was up. “That’s ok, we can finish this up at home.” Sylus then picked you up and threw you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, leaving you blushing and covering your face as the man waiting outside the door witnessed the scene and almost went pale.

“Sylus! Put me down!” you whined and protested, thumping your smaller fists against his strong back, but the man was on a mission and had only one thing on his mind. You. His hand came up to firmly slap you on the ass, causing you to squeak, effectively shutting you up and keeping you still. Getting to the car, he placed you gently in the passenger seat of the car and went around the front before getting in the driver’s seat, not hesitating to start the engine before speeding off once more.

The two of you arrive back at his mansion, the twins waiting to greet you both. Giving you no room to speak to the two, Sylus picked you up and slung you over his shoulder whilst he tossed them the keys to his car. Kieran fumbled to catched the keys, watching the two of you disappear into the distance. Without saying a word, they understood exactly what their boss wanted.

The two of them waved at you, snickering at what they could only guess was about to happen between the two of you. Having given up ages ago, you now lay limp on his shoulder, the ache of his rigid structure digging into your belly. You watched the familiar rooms and decorations pass as he walked you back to his room, where he tossed you gently onto the bed. His lips were quick to latch onto yours, his hand resting on the back of your neck, pulling you in for a heated kiss, the silence of the air being filled with ragged breaths and lips smacking.

Pulling away from you, you could see the lip gloss now staining his lips, a red and glossy streak outstretched past the corner of his mouth. He leaned back down for another, not giving you much time to breathe, your flavor too intoxicating for him to get enough of. He took your lips with a hunger you knew deep down could only be satisfied in one way.

The noise of it all reached your ears, causing your face to burn even hotter whilst you felt his hands snake up your body, slowly peeling your dress off of you. His lips left yours and began to trail down your body, taking his time with each kiss and bite he planted against your skin “You’re so beautiful, I could do this all night long.” He murmurs against your skin, bringing the strap of your dress lower and till he could slip your breasts out.

You and Sylus may have done this a couple times, yet you found yourself still shy and blushing each time. He kissed his way down your legs, whispering praises and showering you with an affectionate lust. You couldn’t help but cover up, still feeling shy. Sylus then brings his hands to yours, gently holding your wrist as he pulls your arms away “Don’t hide from me, Love.”

Taking your wrists in one hand, he plants soft kisses on your skin, each kiss leaving your skin scorching hot. He then pins them above your head, leaving his other hand to roam freely, exploring your nearly naked body. His lips eagerly latch onto your nipple, causing you to moan and arch your back, further shoving your breasts in his face. “Sylus~” the sound of you moaning out his name was driving him up the wall and it only made his blood run hot through his veins, he couldn’t stay away and it spurred him on further.

Letting your wrist go and holding your hips with both his hands, your fingers found your way to his hair, tangling in his silver locs while you get consumed wholly by pleasure.

You then see his eyes flicker for a moment, following his gaze, your eyes landed on the beautifully carved mirror with golden trimmings that sat not too far from bed.

He slips your dress off completely, scooting the two of you closer to the mirror. His lips never once leaving your body. Gently flipping you onto your stomach, his fingers delicately trace along your spine, while he takes off his tie.

“Put your hands out in front of you.” You do as he says without question and stick both your hands out in front of you. Mewling needily for him. He then leans over you bringing the tie to your wrist, binding them together “Face down, ass up.” His tone was commanding and gruff, causing the heat within you to rise. You shuffle and scoot, shifting your weight from your stomach to your knees and elbows, your pussy clenching around nothing as it dripped with your arousal.

Your scent hits Sylus’s nose, rushing almost immediately to his cock as he lets out a soft hum, watching as you flutter around nothing, almost as if it was an invitation for him to sink into your walls. Throwing caution to the wind, he quickly slipped himself out of his pants, unable to resist any longer, and positioned himself behind you. Watching his reflection in the mirror, you couldn’t help but hide your face when the two of you locked eyes, seeing his body looming over yours with an insatiable desire.

Placing his palm on the small of your back, he guides your body lower as his throbbing erection laid between your ass cheeks. Gripping your chin he turned your head, forcing you to look at the reflection. “Watch.” He growls into your ear, that was not a suggestion, it was a command. The head of his cock teases your entrance while your face begins to contort into a pleasurable expression as you feel him slowly sliding into you. You can hear a stifled groan escape his lips as he pushes himself to the hilt, letting out ragged, needy breaths, a string of expletives following before he finally bottoms out.

He was kind enough to give you a few moments to adjust to his size. Slowly, he pulled out, leaving just the tip inside before slamming back into you, a force so strong, your body lurched forward. Unable to catch yourself, you tried your best to support your body with shaky arms. The instant pleasure that came to you from his forceful thrust had your eyes rolling to the back of your head and spit dribbling down your chin.

He caught a glimpse of your blissed out face, smirking whilst he continued to thrust into you, his pace picking up as his gentleness was now replaced with an almost jealous vigor. You struggled with keeping your eyes trained on the mirror ahead of you and proceeded to bury your face in the mattress in an attempt to muffle your cries as well as hide your embarrassment.

You felt his hand snake around your neck pulling you out of the mattress and into the air, having your body nearly pressed up against his. He turns your head to the mirror once more “Be a good girl and watch how I fuck you.” but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You knew it would be the beginning of your unraveling and you had only just begun.

“N-No ah!” Sylus gave one particularly hard, angled, purposeful thrust, forcing your eyes to fly open and look at the sight before you. Your neck was littered with marks and bites from earlier that night while he drove his cock further into you, watching you cry out in the reflection of the mirror.

“Now, was that so hard?” he purred out, feeling you clench impossibly tighter around him whilst you watched both your bodies collide in a sweaty tango. You were too lost in pleasure to even answer his question. Jaw hanging slack, more moans spilled from your mouth while your mind went blank.

“Answer me.” He shoved himself even deeper into you, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix as you cried out, tears brimming your eyes “No! It wasn’t-” A satisfied smirk made its way to Sylus’s face knowing that only he could get you like this. Absolutely needy and desperate for him, too sex dazed to think about anything else besides the feeling of him thrusting in and out of you.

“Letting that disgusting man near you like that..and flirting with him,” He leaned down, his pace unrelenting. Whispering in your ear “It was on purpose wasn’t it?” You couldn’t deny that you enjoyed teasing Sylus, but had you known you’d be punished like this tonight, you might have reevaluated your decision.

You never thought Sylus to be the jealous type, yet here he was, plowing into you with such vigor and possession, ridding your brain of any of the occurrences from earlier that night, only able to think of him and the way he ravished your body.

“Wasn’t..on purpose, hah-” you moaned out, feeling yourself nearing your peak. Sylus took note, accustomed to every little change that happened within your body. “Liar.” He felt the slight twitch of your walls around him. He picked up the pace, pounding into you deliciously, the restriction of your cunt, wrapping him like a vice, enticing his own release, but he wasn’t ready to let go, not yet.

“Sylus!” You scream out, feeling yourself nearly coming undone. Like the evil bastard he was, he slowed down before coming to a complete stop, watching your worm in frustration, chasing your fading climax before huffing out. “Why?!” your hips chased his own as he pulled away slightly, still attempting to seek out your release.

“Because teases don’t get what they want.” He retorted now, turning you on your back. You were now staring into his eyes, dark and clouded with lust. The look on his face only making you want to submit to him, his power something that you could never challenge, even if you wanted to. “Sy-aahhh.”

Your attempt to call out his name was swiftly disrupted by him sliding back into your slick, sensitive walls, Pushing your thighs up, knees almost at your head. You clenched tightly around him, feeling as if you’d come undone right then and there. “Sylus, please-please let m-”

He put a finger to your lips, hushing you one more time. “You’re going to be a good girl and take what I give you.” He’s now grabbing your tied up wrist, pulling you onto his cock as he grits his teeth. “And don’t you dare cum until I let you.” You whimpered at his request, but what could you do besides hold of the best you could.

You didn’t notice it at first, but when you finally opened your eyes fully, the air left your lungs at the sight before you. “Sy, when did you-ah~have-“ he quickly interrupted you, still thrusting in and out of you. “Had it installed..while we were out..”he groaned. Your heart beats fast out of your chest staring at the reflection.

If you didn’t have a thing for mirrors before, you definitely did now. Eyes trained on the mirror in the ceiling, watching his back muscles tense and flex as he plowed into you. You wanted so desperately to wrap your arms around him and claw his back but you can’t.

Oh how you’d love to see his skin littered with scratch marks. Especially from this view, red marks against his pale skin would be such an enticing sight. The thought of it making you clench even harder around him.

“S-Sylus. Hands. Please?” Mewling out, hoping he pities your desperate cries. Grunting, he shakes his head, hips still thrusting mercilessly. “Not…yet..kitten.” You clenched around him harder, listening to the skin slap and seeing his reflection in the mirror above.

Sylus was attuned to the little changes in your body, how whiny you’ve become, gaze fixed past his head, feeling you constrict around him tighter than before “You like it?” He asked, beginning to smirk. All you could do was nod your head yes as his pace was relentless.

He continued thrusting vigorously into you, the feeling of pleasure running hot in your veins as you let out the most satisfied moan. Sylus watched, moans spilling out uncontrollably whilst your mind got clouded with pleasure, watching you get lost in the feeling of his cock driving deep into you and whatever fantasy has you so dazed.

Watching you so lost in pleasure began to make his own desire rise as his thrusts became more forceful and intentful. Not sure how much longer he could last, he tugged your bound wrists harder, slipping his other hand down to where the two of you were joined, thumbing your clit, rubbing it in circles.

Your body began to convulse and twitch uncontrollably, your moans only getting louder and higher in pitch as your legs began to tremble. You looked into his deep crimson eyes, tears brimming your own as you silently begged for him to let you finish, unable to say much besides babble incoherently.

His thrusts became more erratic as he chased his own climax, feeling your gummy walls starting to restrict around him once more. Pounding into you mercilessly, glancing up at the mirror near the bed, he watched how your body squirmed and writhed against his steel strong grip.

Unable to hold off much longer, Sylus bends down and whispers into your ear, urging you to cum for him. “Mm-be a good girl for me, Kitten. Cum for me.” he chanted over and over into your ear, his mind starting to go blank from the pleasure as his climax approached, hips moving faster and sloppier.

You couldn’t hold yourself any longer. Letting go, you finally hit your climax, cumming hard whilst your body trembled and your eyes rolled back, tears staining your cheeks and spit dribbling down the side of your mouth. “Sylus!~” You moaned his name one final time before your body went limp.

Hearing you moan his name like that was something he couldn’t resist, his hips moving quickly and erratically as his own orgasm teetered on the edge. It took one last involuntary squeeze from your pussy for him to spill his load inside you. Groaning and moaning as his hips jerked, shoving his seed deeper into you, while he pulled on your restraints, pulling you further onto his cock, before collapsing on top of you.

The two of you lay there, panting, breathless, and absolutely fucked out. Bodies quivering with the aftershocks of your orgasm as you open your mouth to speak. Your throat was dry and your voice was hoarse. “You were that jealous huh?” Sylus rolled his eyes at your question.

Pulling out slowly, hissing at the way your walls clenched around him, almost as if inviting him back in. He undid the tie cuffs he had made before picking you up and heading to the bathroom.

“Shut up..” he scoffed as a smile creeped onto his face.

#Sylus #love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace #smut #fanfic #sylus x reader #lads #lads sylus #lads fanfic #lads smut #qin che #sylus x you #sylus love and deepspace

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odoraful · 5 months ago

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𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐄𝐘𝐄

it was one of the few days zayne had returned home earlier than sunset. he opened the door to the apartment to find you painting your nails. after a shower and some short pleading on your part, he was seated in front of you, hands laid out on the table for you to do his nails.

content: zayne x fem!reader; established relationship; small banter! ; greyson apperance; ~1k words a/n: i've been dipping in and out of writing, so i thought i'd make something short to get me back into practice :)

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“Hand tremors aren’t good for dexterity, you know,” Zayne quipped, gazing at your expression as you applied the polish.

You looked up at him through your lashes and he smirked at the flat stare you gave him. With a slight tilt of his head, he enjoyed how animated your reactions were to his remarks. Towel-dried hair brushed past his brows, framing his discerning hazel eyes. Did he always need to be this handsome while poking fun at you? Your hands weren’t shaky before, but they certainly felt so now.

“Oh hush.”

Putting the brush back in the bottle to collect more polish, you reset your focus.

“Just ‘cause you’re a surgeon, doesn’t mean you’d make a good nail artist,” you retorted, bringing your eyes back to your work.

You were currently on the last nail, painting it a navy blue to match the others you already finished. Zayne’s nails were well kept and trimmed short, making for a perfect canvas for you. Whilst it was rare for surgeons to wear polish, he assured that it wouldn’t be an issue so long as it did not chip. He wanted you to do it for him, anyway. Having your undivided attention on him was a perfect way to unwind after a long day at the hospital.

“And what other qualifiers need to be met besides a still hand?” he asked, teasing giving way to curiousity.

You finished up the last nail with a few glides of the brush. “An eye for aesthetics,” you declared, moving the blue nail polish aside and selecting two more colours among your collection.

“Now, pick the colour for the design.”

You presented two colours to him. A cool silver embedded with fine glitter, and a rustic gold. His eyes flicked between the two. Mind having been made up almost the second you asked.

“Silver.”

You hummed. “An excellent choice.” Shaking the polish, the glitter dispersed throughout. “Perhaps you might consider nail tech as a side job, Dr Zayne.”

Waiting for his nails to dry before you could begin the next layer, you lightly fanned them with both your hands. He chuckled—both at your comment and your cute attempt to try and speed the drying process.

“My primary job keeps me busy enough,” he replied. “Besides, I don’t have much of an eye for aesthetics.”

You were reminded of the palette of his closet. Blacks, greys, browns, and the only splash of colour being a deep green shirt. Though somewhat monotone, it did suit him well.

He continued, “I think I’ll leave that expertise up to my girlfriend.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Mouth opened ever so slightly, not wanting to reveal the way every use of that nickname slipped under your skin and made your heart skip.

You began to draw tiny snowflakes on each of them with the silver polish. Zayne admired the furrowed concentration on your face as you were locked into this task. When the design had dried, you finished by squeezing some cream onto his hands. He let out a soft sigh as you massaged it in, feeling the tension of the day release under your gentle touch.

Once you were done, you stretched your arms out and twisting around to crack your back. You held his fingers in your hands, inspecting them.

“Look how pretty they are!” You bubbled.

Zayne was honestly floored. The level of coordination it took to paint something so small was incredible.

“They’re very pretty indeed.”

You were too enthralled by your own work to see the warm smile on his face at how satisfied you were.

“Now, that’ll be sixty dollars,” you said, looking up at him smugly, placing your hands on your hips in waiting.

Zayne lifted a brow. “Do you accept payment in desserts?”

“Hm… an interesting offer,” you placed a hand on your chin in mock thought. “What kind?”

“Will each flavour of macaron at the shop that just opened suffice?” he replied. The sparkle in your eyes signalled that it was more than enough to cover the cost of your service. Promptly, the two of you went outside to resolve his payment. You walked hand in hand, matching one another with freshly painted nails.

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EPILOGUE

At Akso Hospital the next day, peoples’ gazes lingered a little too long on Zayne. As he handed out folders to nurses and gestured to screens when presenting, eyes trailed on his hands. Now, it wasn’t unusual for doctors to wear polish, but it was unusual for Zayne to have it. Another layer of mystery to unravel about the cardiac surgeon.

Greyson entered Zayne’s office to drop off some documents, sliding them towards him on his desk. “Going to some fancy event later?”

Zayne adjusted his glasses, not looking away from his computer screen. “Unless you consider a seminar at the university as fancy, I’m not sure what you’re implying.”

He gestured towards the keyboard Zayne was typing on. “I’m talking about your nails! Don’t tell me you really just got them done for fun?” Greyson asked, incredulous.

“I did.” Zayne splayed his hand out. “Is that so strange?”

“No! Not at all!” Greyon reassured, shaking his head fervently. “They do look nice though,” he admitted. “Maybe I should get their number so I can get mine done too.”

“She doesn’t take up new clientele, unfortunately,” Zayne said, resuming his typing.

At such a quick defence, Greyson immediately clocked who this person was. He was one of the few that were privy to the relationship between you and Zayne, and he knew only you could make Dr Zayne change up his style.

Exaggerating a sigh, he turned to leave. “A true shame! She sure seems talented.”

“I’ll make sure to pass that on to her,” he heard Zayne reply. Though his back was to Zayne, the smile in his voice as he answered was undeniable.

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