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2hightocare · 7 months ago

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APOCALYPSE!

“I could go a fair bit crazy over you.”

Synopsis: In which your boyfriend loves doing corny things with you… he also loves doing you.

Genre: established relationship.

Pairings: boyfriend!jungkook x fem!reader

warnings: smut.. car sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up bro) creampie, praise, size kink, belly bulge, cussing, fluff at beginning and end, banter between couple, oral, overstimulation, squirting, making out, reader crying out of pleasure, choking, spanking, dirty talking, reader fucked ‘dumb’, mentions of ot7, they’re so corny it’s sickening.

author note 🗒️: wrote majority of this shit being faded as fuck so forgive me if it’s ass and ignore the mistakes (I’ll get to them eventually) js wanted to thank everyone for 3k🤍… writers block has been an thing these pasts months so sorry that I haven’t posted anything new. Here’s more of kuwtb oc and jk dating era 🤍

“I should’ve brought my glasses,” you whisper, a loud laugh ripping out of Jungkook's chest. “I can’t see anything, baby.” You turn to your side before swatting him on the chest— a pout displayed on your face, before going back to your original position, looking up at the dark milky way.

“We were having a cute moment, and you just blurt that out,” your boyfriend quips, his eyes focused on your side profile. A small smile tugs on his lips as he sees you scrunch up your nose, shaking your head slightly.

“You’re so right, we are so corny.” You playfully stick your tongue out with a small “yuck,” before bursting into a giggle when Jungkook tickles your side.

“‘Can we lay on the grass and look at the stars?’” Jungkook mocks your voice, changing his tone into a much more high-pitched version to match yours.

“Stop! I wanted to have a moment like Noah and Allie,” you puff, a smile threatening to come out.

“Baby, you know they look at the traffic lights and not the stars, right?” Jungkook raises an eyebrow at you.

“Of course I know, but I feel like we would actually get run over. Plus, I like you too much to just let you get run over.” You shrug, your fingers pulling on the grass on the floor. Your eyes connect to the sky as Jungkook stares at your side profile— taking in every imperfection and turning it into another reason why he loves you.

“Like?” he asks, his thumb running over your bottom lip before tilting your head to the side by your chin, making you look at him.

Your heartbeat skyrockets as he stares into your eyes, the twinkle in them prettier than the stars you were just trying to see. Your stomach lights up as if millions of fireworks exploded in heart-shaped sparkles.

“Love.” You correct yourself, rolling your eyes playfully.

“That’s better.” Jungkook clicks his tongue, pursing his lips out. You let out a giggle, dropping a small chaste kiss on his lips before turning back to the sky with a goofy smile on your face.

“You believe in aliens?” you ask, cracking a smile from Jungkook's face— his dimple carving into his skin as he bites his bottom lip, trying to contain the biggest smile.

“Fuck yeah.” Jungkook nods excitedly.

“We are literally a rock when it comes to the whole universe. There’s gotta be something out there.” Jungkook explains, expanding his arms and pointing to the sky, as you nod happily beside him.

“I agree, my mom said she saw one of those spaceships or whatever they’re called,” you pipe in, turning to your side to face your boyfriend.

“You mean a UFO, baby?” Jungkook's face scrunches in adoration.

“UFO?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Unidentified flying object,” he explains, scooting closer to you— dropping his head to your bare stomach.

“I like spaceships better.” You shrug, and he laughs, adjusting himself slightly. Your fingers find their way into his fluffy hair, combing through it. He moans slightly, melting into your touch, closing his eyes, and dropping a gentle kiss on your abdomen.

“What would you do if an alien kidnapped you?” Jungkook asks, his voice muffled.

“Funny for you to think I would allow it,” you say nonchalantly.

You both could hear a hairpin drop from how quiet you both went before breaking out into a fit of laughter. “Smartass.” Jungkook laughs, jokingly biting your stomach and earning a small squeal from you.

Your laughs die down after a while, replaced by silence, the only sounds being your guys breathing. Your eyes flutter shut with a smile, small goosebumps raising on your arms as Jungkook runs his fingertips on your belly�� outlining ‘mine’.

“Tell me about your books,” Jungkook murmurs against your bare skin.

“Wanna know about my current read?” you ask, your fingers tugging softly on his hair, making him look up at you.

“I wanna know everything about you, baby,” Jungkook coos.

“Corny.” You scrunch your nose, placing a palm over his face and pushing softly backward, making him laugh. “Tell me about the thick-ass book I bought you two days ago.” Your boyfriend drops kisses all over your stomach.

“The dragon one?” you poke his cheek, before letting your finger play with his lip ring.

“There’s dragons?” Jungkook gasps, looking up at you.

“Yeah, and they have sex,” you say with a smothering giggle, whispering the last words in a hushed tone, making Jungkook's eyes widen.

“That’s enough, baby.” Your boyfriend raises an eyebrow before shaking his head, changing the topic to the latest drama, including Eunbi and Yoongi.

“Lora and I saw them coming out of the guest room while you were doing cartwheels with Taehyung,” Jungkook chuckles, the amusement on his face rubbing off on you.

“You’re lying,” you gasp, your jaw dropping open.

“I honestly didn’t see it coming.” Jungkook bites his lip, containing a smile. “Do you think Yoongi is the sub?” he continues before bursting out in a laugh, you following along.

"It's going to rain," you observe after a while, noticing a lightning strike in the dark sky. Jungkook hums in agreement before sitting up. He holds out his palm for you to take, which you do, and pulls you up onto his lap in a quick, soft motion.

You immediately wrap your arms around his neck, adjusting on his lap and straddling him. His thumbs rub circles on your bare thighs.

"I want another tattoo," Jungkook murmurs, his lips pressing kisses along your collarbone and neck. You nod slightly, enjoying the sensation of his lips against your skin.

"Where?" you ask, holding his head in place with your palms. He bites his bottom lip, looking up at you with dilated pupils.

"My forehead, and it'll be your name," Jungkook says with a grin, making you roll your eyes playfully.

"You're annoying," you retort, pushing his head backwards, making him gasp dramatically.

"I think it'll look good, you know? Just got to pick a cool font," Jungkook jokes, poking your side, sending you squirming on his lap.

"You're never ever getting my name tattooed on you," you shoot him a glare, which he only responds to by sucking in his lips and widening his eyes before shrugging.

"I think your lips tattooed on my hip bone would be hot," Jungkook wiggles his eyebrows.

"You're crazy," you pout, scrunching your nose as he gives your cheek a kiss.

"Yeah?" Your boyfriend smirks, his hands gripping the sides of your waist, squeezing softly, pulling you closer to him.

"I could go a fair bit crazy over you, baby." His lips brush against yours.

Suddenly, the air is knocked out of your lungs when his lips crash against yours. It doesn't matter how many times he has kissed you; you just can't control the utter madness of butterflies swarming your stomach. The fuzzy feeling fills your senses with every touch of his fingertips on your hot skin. The warmth of his touch, the softness of his lips against yours, all conspire to make your heart flutter with the same giddy excitement as the very first time.

His touch is electric, sending shivers cascading down your spine as his fingers trace the curve of your jaw, his hand gently cradling your face. With a tender yet insistent pressure, he deepens the kiss, his lips parting yours in a silent invitation.

You can feel the heat of his body pressed against yours as you move your hips against his. A soft moan slips past your lips into Jungkook's mouth as he guides your hips on his hardened length.

Jungkook's hand travels up, tangling in your hair, small, light rain drops start to fall down from the dark sky.

"Car?" he says in between kisses. You nod, moaning at the sensation of his lips on your collarbone, leaving purple, reddish marks.

You could never get tired of the way Jungkook looked at you, his eyes shimmery with a mix of love, need, and adoration. It was intoxicating, making you forget all your problems. The universe could have collapsed around you, and you would only care about his mouth on yours.

Everything about him was perfect, his scent, his touch, his voice, those beautiful lips, the way he looked at you, as if you were the only one that mattered in his world.

"Yes, car," you agree, breathy and disheveled.

In a swift motion, Jungkook stood and lifted you, carrying you to the car as you wrapped your legs around his waist. It wasn't until you reached the car that he broke the intense kiss, leaving your lips tingling with desire.

With a wicked grin, Jungkook, laid you on the backseat of his car. Jungkook’s fingers found the hem of your crop top, lifting it up, and you helped by throwing your hands over your head- revealing your lacy black bra.

A soft moan fell from your lips as he freed your breasts from the lace, by tugging downwards.

Your soft moans echoed within the car when your boyfriend cups your tits, massaging and kneading, your nipples hardening.

His lips found your jaw, kissing your neck— his eyes darted up to meet yours before his lips met the peak of your nipple, hot breath, then suckling gently, keeping his gaze locked before shifting his attention to the other breast.

Moaning, you bit your lip, head falling back from the sensation. Jungkook loved how responsive you are, the way your nails dig into his upper back.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful.” Jungkook moans, his calloused hands grip your waist in place to stop you from squirming on the leather seat.

He leaned in close, planting a trail of soft kisses along your neck and shoulders. “Mine.” Your boyfriend whispered into your skin.

You licked your lips, not able to find the words to say what you wanted, as all your thoughts were consumed by lust. Your back arched, encouraging the caresses he was giving. His hand grabbed the back of your head, pulling you closer. His lips met yours, deep and hungry, claiming your mouth as his. You let out a soft moan, your hands finding their way to his face.

“Spread your legs princess.” Jungkook says, his voice deep and gentle— he taps on your inner thigh.

You hum softly, watching your boyfriend work on the zipper and buttons from your denim shorts. Jungkook pulls down your shorts down your legs— your panties following quick after.

“Look how pretty this pussy is,” Jungkook chuckled, his eyes making contact with yours raising an eyebrow. He runs a finger down your slit making you choke out a desperate whine.

“Feels good baby?” He says, he adjusts himself�� pushing your legs back, giving him more space to be face to face with your dripping core. You only moan in response when he drops a soft kiss on your clit.

You couldn’t help the whimpers that escaped your lips, He smiled against your heat, He licked his lips as he slowly parted your folds with his thumbs, revealing your glistening clit. He took it into his mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue around it. You let out a desperate moan, your hips bucking in desperation.

He started flicking his tongue against your clit, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Your back arched, grinding your pussy against his tongue, feeling it flick deep inside your folds.

“Ngh, right there,” You dug your nails into his hair, your toes curling.

“Right here baby?” Jungkook smirked, inserting two fingers into your sopping hole. You couldn't help but moan and nod, as his fingers curled inside you, hitting your sweet spot perfectly.

“Ass up, princess.” he ordered. Without needing to be told twice, you did as you were told, with wobbly legs you flip around. He roughly grabbed one cheek, squeezing it and spreading you, giving him a view of your tight, puckered hole.

Jungkooks cock twitches in his pants as he watches your holes clench over nothing. “Feeling empty?” He chuckles, a rough hand makes contact with your ass with a hard smack— your back arches. You let out a loud squeal, pleasure and pain mixing together.

He lets out a low growl, his cock straining against his pants, Jungkook moans as he watches your wetness begin to drip down your thighs onto his seats.

“Actually, do you want to tell me about the dragons you were reading about?” Jungkook jokes behind you making you snap your head backwards with a glare.

“You’re annoying.” You pout, Jungkook eyes twinkle with amusement— he bites down on his bottom lip containing the smile that is threatening to spill out. “Annoying? I have you spread out in front of me baby… your pussy is literally dripping.” Jungkook tilts his head to the side cheekily.

Your boyfriend taps on your ass for you to turn around.

He didn’t have to tell you twice as you flip around, before reaching for the waistband of his sweatpants. You pull down on the waistband, alongside his boxers. His cock springs out, the head red and aching.

Jungkook watches you wrap your hand over his thick length, giving a slow pump causing him to blow out a sigh. Jungkook stops you before you connect your lips with his cock.

“As much as I want you to give me the head of my life, I fucking need to be inside your pretty pussy right now baby.” Jungkook rushes out, tugging on your loose hair backwards.

You pout at him. “Let me fuck you.” Jungkook whispers, the grip on your hair tighten pulling you upwards— his lips milliliters away from your face.

“Fuck me.” You whimper.

The moment the words left your mouth jungkook is picking you up and placing you on top of his lap. You’re leaning your back against Jungkook's chest, your legs spread open on each side of his big thighs. His arm is snaked around your waist pulling you closer into him.

“Cramps?” Jungkook whispers into your neck, “not yet.” You joke, he shakes his head with a small laugh before you wrap your hand around his cock aligning it to your entrance.

“Going to take my cock like a good girl?” He guided your hand, aligning it to your dripping entrance. He rubbed the tip of his cock against your pussy before pushing his cock inside you. You feel the familiar pressure as he slowly slid his length inside you, your pussy sucking him in.

“So big.. fuck.” You moan, your pussy clenching around him making him moan against your ear. “If you keep doing that I’m going to cum.” He chuckled.

You dipped down onto his cock, his cock hitting your cervix when you completely sat down on it. Your legs shake beside you, his hands fastly grip underneath your thighs.

“All up my belly.” You moan, arching your back against him.

The sight of his cock inside you, buried up to the hilt, made him moan. "You're so tight," he half-whispered, half-growled against the shell of your ear, the roughness of his voice only fueling the intense passion that already burned through your veins.

He wove his fingers into your hair, guiding your head with an almost possessive need as he tilted you to give him better access to your lips. Jungkook crashed his mouth against yours, his tongue invading, claiming. His eyes closed for a moment as he savored the sensation of your wet, tight pussy engulfing him completely.

He groaned as you lifted yourself, his cock popping out momentarily before sliding back in when you slammed down on it, your cervix meeting his tip with each movement. It was a merciless, primal form of pleasure, your wetness coating his length with every thrust.

His eyes remained locked on you as you got lost in the sensation of his thick length filling you up, throaty moans leaving your lips as you moved on top of him, grinding down onto his cock, your hips moving in a circular motion. Jungkook couldn't help the low growl that left his throat

He pulled you back up, forcing you to bounce on his rigid cock, watching as your full lips parted in an ecstatic moan. The sway of your hips in time with the motion of his cock sliding in and out of you was so fucking erotic it was almost a crime.

You gasped, leaning back just enough to give Jungkook better access to your exposed neck. His cock hitting your g-spot repeatedly which each bounce.

Jungkook's hips bucked up, meeting your bounces, desperate to get as deep as he could, to fill you up completely. The sensation was almost overpowering. A familiar heat was building inside you, a sweet ache that craved release.

Your eyes rolled back, waves of pleasure overwhelmed you.

His hips pumped faster, his cock buried deep inside you, stretching you in the most exquisite way. Jungkook took your lips in another deep, greedy kiss, muffling the sounds of your cries as you rocked your hips wildly, trying to take him as deep as you could, desperate to reach that peak that felt so tantalizingly close.

“I can’t.” You cry, "That's it, baby, feel every inch." He urged you on.

The thrusts grew rougher, deafening the world around you except for the sound of your moans, his grunts, the soft squelching of your bodies coming together and the rain pouring outside.

The pressure built and built, coiling tighter and tighter until you could no longer contain it. Your entire body trembled as you came undone, shattering the quiet of the car with a lustful cry. Your pussy clamped down around Jungkook's cock,

"Cum for me, baby," he whispered, his voice hoarse with lust.

You let out a loud whine as his cock slipped out of you. Your body continued to rock back and forth, the ache of denial from not having his cock buried inside you being too much to bear. You glanced down between your legs, flushed when you noticed the stickiness that coated your inner thighs.

Jungkook picked up your trembling body and placed your back onto the leather seat. “Gon’ fuck you missionary so I can see your pretty face when I fill you up with my cum.” Your boyfriend growls.

Jungkook wasted no time, returning home, his cock sliding inside you once more as you let out a needy moan.

His thrusts were relentless, deep, and hard, driving himself into you. The way your pussy immediately clenched around him, took him in so greedily, made him groan, his eyes locked on yours.

A hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing just enough to keep you eager for air. “H-harder,” you pant, your voice growing hoarse as his grip tightened.

The car rocked beneath the force of his thrusts, the sounds of wet slaps echoed, mixed with your cries of pleasure, your head tossing back, your eyes rolling back at the ferocity of his thrusts, the sensations building once more, the climax burning beneath your skin.

"Harder...fuck, harder," you cried out, your voice high-pitched and desperate. Jungkook chuckled, releasing his hold on your throat, you gasp as you inhale deeply for air.

Jungkook fingers find their way to your clit once more, his thumb rubbing it in circles while he continues to thrust into your soaked cunt.

The mix of the insistent pressure on your clit and the rough thrusts was too much, a wave of pure pleasure crashing over you, your pussy gripping his cock, your body pulsing around him. Jungkook pulled out, watching with a devilish grin as your pussy squirted all over the two of you.

Jungkook slapped his cock on your swollen clit— watching your pussy spasm with spurts of juices, before pushing his cock back into you.

The sensation of being filled once more, the echo of your screams, bouncing off the car roof, and the overwhelming orgasm had left you lightheaded. You clung to Jungkook, panting, drool sliding down your chin.

"Fuck, you're so wet for me..." He groaned in pleasure, the sensation of your slick walls gripping him, almost drowning him.

"You... fuck me so good, baby," you panted, the words slurred, your voice bordering on sounding completely fucked-dumb. Your body shuddering, your pussy spasming around his cock, your orgasm brewing fast. Jungkook's hips sped up, his cock pulsing inside you.

Suddenly, your back arched, your vision filled with a white haze as another orgasm crashed over you. The delicious agony coursed through your body, your pussy clenching down on his cock, Jungkook grunted, feeling you contract around him, the sensation sending him over the edge. His cock pumped inside you, the warmth of his seed filling you up completely. He moaned against your neck, his heart pounding, lost in the sensation of having you completely wrapped around him

"Fuck, baby," he groaned, his jaw clenching, his eyes closed as he rode out the intense wave of ecstasy. His breath hitched, his hips jerking, before he collapsed against you, his cock still throbbing inside you, spent.

Your body continued to tremble, the aftershocks of the powerful climax lingering. Your heart raced, your breaths coming in ragged pants, sweat beading on your forehead.

With a low growl, Jungkook slowly pulled out of you leaving you feeling impossibly empty. The slick sound of his withdrawal accompanied by a heated chuckle of his.

Jungkook looked down, the sight of your pussy dripping with his cum— your wet pussy gaping, waiting for him to fill you once again.

Jungkook watched, captivated by the scene, as you reached down to collect his cum, watching as you pushed it back inside.

“Fuck.. that was hot.” Jungkook groaned, his lips landed on your face, trails of wet kisses from your forehead, down to your nose, your cheeks, and finally landing on your lips. The storm outside, the rain and thunder providing the soundtrack to your post-coital bliss.

Your limp, spent body sprawled over his car seats, your heart still racing, your breaths coming in shallow pants. You gazed up at him, the sweat on his forehead, the flush on his cheeks, the lust still in his eyes, his breathing heavy. A hand cupped your cheek, his fingers gently stroking your jawline as his lips moved against yours in a tender kiss.

Jungkook traced his fingers along your jawline, pushing a lock of hair behind your ear.

"You good, baby?" He asked, the tenderness in his voice, an unexpected warmth to the intensity of what had just happened.

Your eyes fluttered open, looking up at him and giving a slow, lazy smile. "Yeah, just a bit sore," you responded, blatantly referring to the aching between your legs.

"You're cute, baby," Jungkook whispered into your lips, the simple remark warming you, leaving your heart fluttering. You hummed in content.

The two of you lay there, naked, your skin still glistening from sweat, the weight of the storm outside more comforting than daunting. Your breaths slowly returning to normal.

A beat of silence permeated the car until Jungkook finally broke it, his voice brimming with mirth. "So... do you think we fucked better than the dragons from your book?"

4K notes · View notes

munson-blurbs · 6 months ago

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Summary: A missing key and a terrible storm leaves you and Eddie stranded in the back of his van. What ever shall you do to pass the time?

WC: 1.6k

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), unprotected p in v, friends-to-lovers, kinda sub!Eddie but he's mostly just a simp.

A/N: This will be my last 1k+ fic for a while, as I'll be focusing on writing blurbs for Corroded Coffin Fest throughout July. Why not go out with a (literal) bang?

“What do you mean, you forgot your key?”

Your eyes widen as Eddie flicks through the keyring. He shakes his head in frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

“I was switching keychains…I thought I put them all back…” He huffs out an irritated laugh. “Must’ve left the house key on the table.”

A warm breeze siphons through the humidity, gray clouds rolling in. August in Hawkins is unbearable as it is, and the sticky heat before a storm is downright brutal.

Eddie jiggles the doorknob once more, to no avail. “Jesus H. Christ.” He rakes a hand through his curls, frizzy and knotted from the hot weather. “Back to your place?”

Before you can agree, lightning flashes and is swiftly accompanied by booming thunder. Your heart leaps into your throat and you jump.

“Scared the shit outta me, too.” Eddie laughs nervously. A fat raindrop falls from the sky and plops on his nose, rolling off of the side. Another lands on his cheek, then one lands on yours, until rain pours in a steady sheet.

Eddie grabs your hand, tugging you off of the trailer’s front steps and pulling you back to his van. He flings open the back doors, always kept unlocked unless he’s hauling concert equipment.

“Get in,” he orders, and you follow his instructions without a second though. Rainwater pools in the grass, dirt turning into mud beneath your sneakered feet. His hands grip your waist, steadying you as you climb up. “We’ll wait in here until the rain dies down.”

You ignore the lingering flames that his touch leaves behind and the way he’s now sitting right next to you. “It’s like a monsoon out there.”

“Yeah.”

The two of you sit in silence for a few moments, listening to the storm raging outside. Raindrops sound like drum beats against the van’s exterior, a song you’ve heard many times before.

A chill sweeps over you, reminding you of the wet cotton of your t-shirt clinging to your torso. Your miniskirt hasn't fared much better, the light-washed denim now dark.

“Do you have a blanket back here?”

Eddie shakes his head. “That’s, like, the one thing I don’t have.” He gestures to the cluttered space.

You offer a half-smile. “S’okay.” Your palms glide up and down your goosebump-covered arms.

He notices this, frowning. “Here,” he says. “My hands are bigger than yours.” He clumsily positions himself behind you, knees knocking against your sides. His grasp is strong but gentle, hands warming you up from the outside in.

“Thanks.” He’s close—so close—yet it feels like he’s never been farther away. Without thinking, you scoot back until your ass brushes against his fly.

“Sh-Shit.” Eddie inhales sharply. “That’s, um, dangerous territory.”

You raise your brows, though he can’t see them. “And rubbing my arms isn’t?”

Eddie peers around, chin resting on your shoulder. He looks up and says, “it doesn’t turn you on though.”

“Says who?”

He breathes out a laugh, stopping immediately when he realizes that you’re not joking. His voice is barely above a whisper when he asks, “This…this turns you on?”

You nod, suddenly shy at the admission.

“How about this?” Eddie’s lips press against the back of your neck. One calloused hand reaches for the collar of your shirt, tugging it down to expose your shoulder. He kisses that, too, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin.

“Mhm.”

“Fuck.” His other hand snakes around your throat, holding it firmly but being careful not to squeeze. “We shouldn’t do this. S’gonna ruin our friendship.”

Gently, you turn to face him, legs straddling his waist. “I’m fine with ruining it if you are.” The words are murmured, muffled by the proximity of your lips and his.

Eddie swallows, Adam's apple bobbing with trepidation. “Just want you. Fuck, I want you so bad.”

He grabs your ass and pulls you closer until you can feel his erection straining against his jeans. You roll your hips, eliciting a moan from him.

“You—I gotta—” He unbuckles his belt, tossing it amongst the van’s clutter. “I’m so hard it hurts.”

You reach for his pants button, but he shakes his head. “I’ll bust if you touch me,” he sheepishly explains.

He takes off his own pants, which is much more of a chore than usual because of the rain-soaked fabric. He doesn’t bother to remove his Hellfire shirt, but you hardly notice. His tented boxers hold your focus, and despite his warning, you strip them away. You need to see what’s beneath them.

The sight before you is nothing less than glorious.

His cock is hard, curved slightly left, the pinkish-purple tip already leaking pre-cum. Your thumb traces the vein that runs along the shaft, and he shivers at your touch. When he looks at you with wide, wet eyes, you nearly melt on the spot.

“Is…Is this what you want?” Eddie’s voice is so soft you can barely hear it above the pouring rain. “Because…I want this so bad. So fucking bad.” Pleading, desperate, bordering on pathetic. Everything he showed outwardly, you felt on the inside.

You lean in, capturing his lips and pouring all of your desire into one searing kiss. “Don’t just want it. Need it. Need you,” you reassure him, feeling his length twitch against you. Taking it in your hand, you move your panties out of the way and rub the head against your clit. Every nudge sends a wave of pleasure crashing through your body. “Mmmph, please, please.”

Eddie wraps his hand around yours, guiding his cock into you. “There you go,” he whispers, hissing as you sink down. He fills you completely, bringing a pinch of pain as you adjust to him. “You okay?”

“Mhm. M-More than okay.” You grip his shoulders, curling your fingers into the shirt’s cotton fabric. Moving your hips, you work him deeper until he’s bottomed out, sheathed within you down to the curls at his base.

Everything is Eddie, and it feels so good.

“Can’t believe I’m inside you.” He tries to kiss you, the action hindered by a small laugh. “I’m actually—we’re actually doing this. Fuck, you feel so good!” The last sentence is a growl, raw and primal.

You hold on to him, knees scraping against the van’s worn carpet as your movements find their rhythm. There’s no more time for self-control. Only Eddie, his hips bucking to meet your core.

“Might…might not last long,” he admits, swiping at a bead of sweat dripping down his temple. “You’re even better than my fantasies. Never knew you’d feel this f-fucking warm. Tight. Like you’re m-made for me.”

“Maybe I am.” You swoop down to suck on his neck. “Maybe I am made for you, and I’ve been waiting for you to realize it.”

Eddie groans, throwing his head back and exposing more of his neck, which you dutifully continue marking. His thoughts are clouded by lust; neither of you speak for a while, the only noises are moans and the van squeaking on its axles.

“It’s always you.”

Your eyes meet his. “What?”

“In my fantasies. It’s always you. Every time I jerk off, I imagine your hands, your mouth, your perfect pussy—”

“Eddie.” His name is barely a breath. You clench around him just as he kisses you, and his teeth sink into your lower lip. It’s not hard enough to draw blood, but it produces a twinge of pain that has you skyrocketing towards climax. “Yes, yes, yes!”

He grabs your hips harshly, keeping you flush against him. The denim waistband of your skirt digs into your skin but you don’t care. Nothing matters, only Eddie, Eddie, Eddie…

“I’m coming. Fuck, I’m coming.” He thrusts upwards in short, punctuated strokes, heaving as he spills into you.

The two of you stay like that for a few moments, catching your breath and processing what just happened. You confessed that Eddie’s touch turned you on, you rode him in the back of his van, and then he confessed that he thinks about you when he touches himself.

Oh, and he gave you an earth-shattering orgasm.

As if reading your mind, Eddie says softly, “you came…right? Because if you didn’t, I can—”

“Yeah.” You can’t help but giggle, silencing him with a kiss. “I definitely came.”

His chest sags with relief. “Good. Me, too. I mean, obviously. It’s right…” He withdraws, cock softening, his cum trickling down your thigh. “Holy fucking shit.”

There’s no masking his grin, visible through the t-shirt’s thin fabric as he pulls it over his head. With a careful touch, he wipes away his mess.

“I think I owe you a new shirt.”

“Nah.” He shakes his head, tossing the shirt aside. “I have a million of these. Not the first time one’s been, uh, stained.”

Eddie’s cheeks turn crimson at his admission. He averts his gaze from you, bringing his attention to the foggy window. The condensation squeaks under his forefinger as he draws a smiley face through it.

“What do you wanna do till my uncle gets home?”

You, you think, but the last thing you need is for Wayne to find the van a-rockin’. “Maybe I could hear more about those fantasies of yours? And I could tell you some of mine?”

Eddie looks back at you, his spent cock still managing a small twitch. “Mmm.” His lips find your throat, sending vibrations through you when he speaks. One hand snakes between your bodies, his middle finger landing on your clit. He makes small, deliberate circles as he murmurs.

“Ladies first.”

#eddie x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #fanfic #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things #smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut

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huhmiya · 7 months ago

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FORTNITE | chris sturniolo

pairing: bf!chris x f!reader

summary: you have been watching chris play fortnite for most of the evening, but you were bored scrolling through social media and he wasn't paying much attention to you. so you found a way to get him to notice you.

warning: smut, sub!chris, use of y/n, swearing, p in v, unprotected sex, pet names (baby, ma, darling), blow job, slightly teasing, mommy kink, mention of blood, ass grabbing, cockwarming.

a/n: not my photos, on pinterest. this one is kinda similar to lipstick marks. I hate the new season of fortnite, wbu?

WORDS: 2.8k

huhmiya on wattpad

you - pink | chris - orange | matt - blue

You were sitting on his bed, scrolling through social media while he played Fortnite with his brother, Matt. You could hear them both speaking to each other through their mics, but Chris's voice was clearer since he was in the room with you, while you can only hear Matt's voice through the mic when he shouted.

The sound of keyboard clicking filled the quiet room as he focused on building and shooting his opponent.

"52," Chris exclaimed louder than necessary, prompting you to glance up from your phone to see that he had hit the opponent.

You observed Chris and his game, noticing his intense focus, while catching a whiff of his invigorating savage cologne from across the room, which made your knees weak.

"Touch grass, you fucking kid!" Chris grumbled after being knocked down by the opponent, leaving Matt to take over.

“Calm down, young man” Matt said after Chris spoke, making him just roll his eyes.

You chuckled quietly, shaking your head and rolling your eyes with a slight smile, finding it funny when Chris’s rages since he comes up with something random.

He didn’t hear your chuckle or anything because he had his mic on. As he watched himself lose two health points every second after being knocked down, he soon perished, eliciting a groan as he realized he had lost all his items.

You observed Chris remove his mic and put it back on once his hair was away from his face. He then turned to you and muted himself to avoid Matt thinking he was addressing him.

"Are you okay ma?" he inquired, eyeing you wearing his shirt with your own pajama shorts. You nodded, unsure whether to speak since he was still muted and you couldn't see him unmute.

He smiled, turned back to his gaming chair, and resumed speaking into the mic. "Could you grab my sniper since you have a free inventory slot?" Chris asked Matt. “Will do”

As the gaming session continued, it eventually reached 1 am. You found yourself bored and craving Chris's attention, but he only glanced at you briefly whenever he died without saying anything.

You place your phone on the bedside and sat up instead of laying down on the bed. You couldn't help but approach him and hug him from behind.

He gasped slightly when you startled him, but his heart rate returned to normal once he realized it was you. "Hello," he mouthed as he continued talking to his brother on the mic. “Hey,” you smiled and ran your hand along his shoulder, feeling the warmth compared to your own hands.

He leaned back in his gaming chair, still engrossed in playing Fortnite. You couldn't resist trailing your fingers along the veins in his arm and not hands since he used his hands for gaming.

"You seem to have a thing for my hands," Chris remarked, making you smile before pausing. Matthew fake gagged, already aware that you were with him, anticipating Chris's flirtatious nature. "No, please, save the flirting for later," Matt chimed in on the mic, his voice audible as you were close by.

"Oh, shut it," Chris said with a small eye roll. You stopped tracing the veins on his arms and just looked at him in amusement. His hands clicked on the keyboard as he focused on shooting a player in the game.

You kept staring at his hands, the PC, and then back at the screen. He continued chatting with Matt until there were only 20 people left.

"The fuck?!" Your boyfriend, Chris, shouted as he was suddenly sniped out of nowhere. Matt tried to build and revive him, but his structures kept getting knocked down.

Chris seemed a bit irritated but didn't do anything. You looked at him again, and he met your gaze. The stress in his eyes softened a bit when he saw you. "Stressed, huh?" you said to Chris, and he nodded with a faint smile.

You brushed his hair out of his face, tucking a few strands behind his ear. He watched you before taking off his mic, readjusting it like a headband again, and putting it back on. “Goofy hairline” you tease making him squint his eyes at you before shaking his head.

He looked at you once more before watching the screen in disbelief as his character perished, with approximately 260 seconds left to get his reboot. Letting out a sigh, he grumbled as he lost his loot once again, although he understood it wasn't Matt's fault.

In the background, Matt discussed the damage he inflicted on the opponent who had taken down Chris.

"Do you trust me?" you whispered, catching Chris off guard with the unexpected question, even though deep down he knew he did. "What?" he muttered before confirming, "Yeah, I trust you..."

A smile played on your lips as you noticed the confusion on his face. Moving closer, you positioned yourself between his legs, causing his heart to quicken its pace, especially when he noticed you pulling your hair up.

Unaware that his mic was still on, Chris whispered urgently, "Y/n... come on."

Although he realized he was still audible, he spoke softly, ensuring Matt wouldn't overhear. "Y/n, I swear," he murmured, reluctantly allowing you to remove his shorts, revealing his half-erect cock in his boxers.

He glanced down at you, biting his lip to stifle any sound as the cold air sent a shiver through his excited member.

"Are you going to say something?" You teased Chris as he was on mic with his brother, causing him to press his lips together before speaking.

"What was that? I was fixing my hea—" Chris was interrupted as you began to pleasure him with kitty licking his tip, causing him to grow harder and struggle to remain quiet.

"I said I'm going to the lavish lair to reboot you," Matt announced, but Chris simply hummed, his attention fixed on you and your hands.

"That's right, baby," Chris murmured, prompting Matt to inquire about his comment, but Chris brushed it off, focusing on you instead.

You increased your pace, then took him into your mouth, eliciting a wide-eyed reaction from him as he covered his mouth in a futile attempt to muffle his pleasure. The sensation of your mouth around him brought him to the brink of ecstasy.

He squeezed his eyes shut, desperately trying to remain silent for Matt's sake. "D-do you really have to reboot me?" Chris stammered out.

"I'm not suffering alone in a top 5," Matt says as he goes to reboot Chris. He breathes quietly, more in pleasure from the sensation of receiving oral pleasure.

He watches Chris get rebooted, not wanting to play but seeking only pleasure, planning to then engage in intercourse until Chris forgets his own name.

Chris places his hands on the keyboard to resume playing, as you had instructed him to do, but his hands are shaky as he feels himself nearing climax.

"I found a legendary assault rifle for you," Matt announces over the mic, to which Chris expresses gratitude. Chris lets out a slight whimper and looks down at you.

It's evident that he is struggling to keep the fact that he is receiving oral sex from you a secret from his brother. Your tongue swirls around his tip, making his legs tremble slightly as he tries to focus on the game.

"The storm is closing in, it will take five health," Matt informs Chris, who simply hums in response without daring to speak, especially when on the brink of climax.

As Chris continues to play, you gently massage his thighs while pleasuring him. He can't help but moan, a sound that Matt overhears.

“You just moan?" Matt asked, but Chris quickly denied it before another moan escaped. He gave you a warning glance, indicating he was close, although you could already tell by how many times he twitched in your mouth.

Closing his eyes, Chris bit his lip, which bore the marks of his attempts to silence himself. His hands trembled as he grabbed your messy ponytail, making you gag on his member. He was confident that Matt hadn't heard anything, so he made you gag on him once more.

"Can I cum, please, mommy?" Chris murmured, gazing at you, desiring permission to release in your throat, finding it incredibly arousing.

He took a risk by uttering those words, as he had forgotten to mute himself. When you hummed, the vibrations widened his eyes as he came deeply down your throat.

His muscles tensed, and he bit his lip harder, feeling the intensity of his orgasm. In the game, he went afk, needing to muffle his moans once more.

You smirked and licked the veins on his shaft, savoring every last drop of his essence.

You lean back to gaze at him, noticing his vulnerability and weakness in that moment. He was breathing heavily as he tried to catch his breath, still feeling the lingering sensation of your mouth on him even though you had stopped.

Matt asked about his heavy breathing, but Chris simply placed his headset down, forgetting to mute himself.

"You're so beautiful darling," he whispered to you, gently wiping his release off your chin, causing your cheeks to flush as he chuckled.

No longer aroused, Chris shifted slightly so you were no longer between his legs. He lifted you onto his lap, ensuring you weren't causing him discomfort since he wasn't wearing any underwear, but neither of you minded.

"CHRIS!" Matt's voice boomed through the headset, causing both of you to glance at it. Chris let out a slight groan, then put his headset back on. "What?" he responded.

"We're in the top two, I need your help or we'll lose this game. I care about y/n and you, but please just assist me for now, and then you two can resume your playful, cheesy banter," Matt suggested.

Chris adjusted his position, ensuring you were more comfortable on his lap before diving back into the game, which seemed to stretch on forever for him.

"They're over there," Chris announced over the mic, using your head as a makeshift headrest, though you didn't mind. You observed him play alongside Matt, eagerly pursuing an opponent who was attempting to escape.

"Quick, oh my god!" Chris exclaimed as he and Matt gave chase. Matt managed to weaken the opponent significantly, exclaiming, "He's one hit!" Matt said so loudly that his voice carried upstairs to where you were in Chris's room.

In a triumphant moment, Chris landed a headshot with a sniper, prompting him to win the game and smile. "Headshot as well," he declared before embracing you and planting a kiss on your head.

You gazed up at him as he met your eyes, his hand resting on your thigh while you sat on his lap. Despite looking at you, he couldn't resist the desire to be intimate with you or have you ride him until he was overwhelmed with pleasure.

"Matt, I'm going to leave," Chris abruptly announced without saying goodbye. He shut off his computer, then kissed your lips and playfully squeezed your ass while you remained on his lap.

"You're so lucky I love you or else I would be pissed at you, pleasuring me while I'm gaming with my brother," he remarked with a chuckle, before engaging in another passionate kiss with you.

He let out a soft moan before breaking away to gaze at you. "I need you, make love to me until I forget my own name, please, mommy," he pleaded.

You smirked, brushing his hair away from his face, causing him to groan. Feeling his arousal grow beneath you as you sat on his lap, with him only clad in a shirt, you whispered, "Do you want to be taken by mommy, hmm?"

He nodded, his eyes pleading as he kissed your neck, attempting to arouse you in order for you to fulfill his desires. "Please, mommy."

The expression on his face revealed his desire for you, as you locked eyes with his captivating blue gaze, betraying his vulnerability because all he craved was you.

You removed your shirt, revealing your bare chest, catching him off guard as he bit his lip in surprise, but refrained from any complaints. “Holy shit ma," he murmured, fixated on your breasts.

You playfully nibbled on his neck, eliciting soft whimpers of pleasure from him, marking your territory as he embraced you by the hips, undressing you further until both of you stood naked, except for his shirt.

"I belong to you, mommy," he declared, his gaze fixed on you as you withdrew from his neck, leaving behind deep purple marks that would be difficult to conceal even with makeup. "Good boy," you commended.

His desire for physical contact intensified, particularly as your skin grazed teasingly against his sensitive areas.

You removed his shirt with his permission, both eager to consummate your passion as he eagerly surrendered to your lead, yearning for the moment when you would be one, lost in each other's touch until all rational thought faded away.

He struggled to control himself, placing his trembling hands on your hips as he positioned himself between your legs. His desire was solely for you, no one else but you.

As he entered you, a deep moan escaped his lips and he leaned back, resting his head on the gaming chair. You bit your lip in an attempt to stifle your own moans as he stretched you with his considerable size.

"fuck," you whispered to yourself, fighting the urge to cry out in pleasure mixed with a bit of pain as you adjusted to his size.

"You're so good to me, mommy. Your pussy was made for me, I swear," Chris whispered, gazing into your eyes before closing his own as you began to move.

His large hands firmly gripped your waist, urging you to quicken the pace, his movements expertly hitting your sweet spot, eliciting more moans of pleasure from you.

Despite his lips showing signs of strain from his nervous biting, he let out a loud moan as you both reached a peak of pleasure and perfect synchronization.

He paid no mind to the possibility of his brothers hearing him, his focus solely on you and the intense connection between your bodies.

"Mommy," he whimpered, his blue eyes fixed on you in disbelief at the overwhelming pleasure. Despite his usual dominance, the way you made love to him drove him to the brink of madness.

As you continued, he found himself unable to decide where to touch you - whether to hold onto your hips, waist, breasts, or thighs - as his mind was clouded by ecstasy.

His climax was building, but he knew yours had not yet arrived. Despite struggling to contain himself, he couldn't hold back any longer.

"Can I cum, please, mommy?" he pleaded loudly when he felt your walls tightening around him.

You bit your lip, nodding as you quickened the pace. He closed his eyes tightly, gripping the handle of his gaming chair as he released inside you.

You reached your peak with him, your essence mingling and dripping onto the chair as Chris tried to catch his breath from his release.

"Fuck... mommy," he muttered, still breathless. He caressed your cheek, both of you still recovering. "Darling...?" he hesitated.

You nodded but avoided his gaze, intending to stand up from his lap. However, he gently whined and persuaded you to remain seated, still connected to him.

He tenderly lifted your chin to meet his gaze, and as you did, he smiled and kissed your lips. "I love you, baby," he whispered.

"I love you too," you replied, brushing his sweaty hair away from his face, while he was captivated by your eyes in that moment.

A brief silence passed between you before he hesitated and considered asking you a question.

"Can we cockwarm?" he inquired, gazing at you with puppy eyes. You were willing, but mindful of the need to clean up. "Now?" you questioned.

He nodded and embraced you, knowing your preference for aftercare, yet pleading he speaks innocently, "Please, darling?" with a furrowed brow.

You rolled your eyes but relented, agreeing to his request before embracing him. "Only for a few minutes," you stated, and though he didn't promise, you both understood that he would likely prolong the aftercare session.

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gremlingottoosilly · 5 months ago

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Imagine sea bunny reader, who just get swept up by the ocean current and just float away from monster König. 🤣by the time he catches up, she just got seaweed wrap around her. Monster König has to detangle her.

He could help you get untangled from the seaweed...or he could let you exhaust yourself trying to do it on your own. He is taking great pleasure in watching your pretty tits and ass squished by unruly kelp and holding you in place while you're shaking and trying to move yourself out of that predicament. He fucking loves seeing you all helpless and stuck, forcing your pretty body to wiggle in the water. Maybe you already spotted him lurking, and you're begging him to help - or, maybe, you're too exhausted to do it. Konig never considered actually tying you up to keep you close, always thinking that his threatening aura would be enough. He wasn't wrong - you would never run, or, well, swim away from him, too scared and sleepy to put up meaningful resistance, but he didn't realise just how fucking hot you'd look all tied up and helpless. Even though the seaweed is too soft to hurt your squishy, pretty body, he imagines little rope burns on your skin and pretty wines you'd make when he would bite over the marks. God, he is going to fucking ruin you, and there would be nothing you could do. Maybe he will get himself nice and comfy, force you on your knees like a good girl - or, maybe, he will use the remaining kelp to hold you down just a bit more. He will not let you sway too far away from the cave now, not when he knows you're so helpless against the currents...but he took an ample amount of kelp from the nearest seagrass field, making nice and tight ropes to use whenever you behave a bit too rowdy during breeding. The sight of your pretty tummy, all bulging and wrapped in ropes is making him hard before he even touched you...so you can be sure he won't help you get out of the grass for a while.

#cod #konig x reader #konig #yandere konig #cod x reader #yandere cod #monster!konig #tw: monster fucking #eldritch!konig #seabunny!reader

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suckerforblondeathletes · 6 months ago

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Head Injuries and kisses - Alexia Putellas

Alexia Putellas x Fem!Reader

Part 1 of 2

Summary: During the championships you go down with a head injury, worrying Alexia, her family, and everyone in the stadium.

Warnings: MENTIONS OF BLOOD AND INJURY!!!

Authors Note: Another championship fic guys, I hope you enjoy part 1!

You had nerves before being subbed on the pitch. Not scared about the game, well kind of. But mostly scared to play bad in front of Alexias family.

Alexia the night before said they would be in attendance, and would like to meet you in the end, making your nerves and fear of not being enough go insanely high.

She reassured you that they had watched you play multiple time on barcelona, telling you how they complemented your goals and skills.

The nerves followed you to now, being subbed on at 34 minute mark.

The crowd when your face was on the subsitution board. Everyone cheering to watch their favorite player do what she does best.

Running on the pitch, you take your position, you glance over at Alexia and she gives you a reassuring smile. One that eases your nerves for a split second.

Now at 48 minutes, you have been running back and forth, getting more frustrated when you notice how the opposing team are being very aggressive.

You spot an open position near the goal, running full force, waiting for a ball to be kicked your way. When it comes, so does a player, crashing into like a brick wall.

Sending you down, moving to clutch your forehead when you feel a sharp sting of a football boot collide with your head on your way down.

Without your knowledge, two player were running at you. When the first one took you down, the other was running too fast and trying to slow down she put her foot out in front of her, which wasn't grass, but your head.

You sit there for a couple seconds until you feel the warm hands of your girlfriend touch your back. Coming around to wonder why you haven't gotten up yet.

You feel warm liquid pool in your hand quickly, running down your face and covering your hand and neck. But from your position, on your knees with you head towards the ground and in your hands, the blood was unseen.

You feel Alexia slowly pull you up from your position, and the look on her face when she sees the blood is gut wrenching. She looked scared and worried at the same time, not knowing what happened completely, but the amount of blood which is now seen by everyone in the stadium is not healthy.

You see the medics run over immediately, you being close to the side lines when you collided helping them get there quicker.

"Alexia what's going on?" You have a shake in your voice as her hands come up to your forehead, trying to lessen the amount of blood spilling from your head, coating her hands as well.

"Shh bebita the medics are coming, you just cut your head, it will be okay." She did seem sure in her sentence, trying to keep calm for you. Patri behind her, rubbing her back which helped her keep her composure.

When the medics arrive they lay you down on your back, and usher your teammates and the opposing teammate who collided with you away to give them space.

Alexia stared daggers into the Lyons head, silently telling them that they fucked up, and if there weren't hundreds if not thousands of people here right now, they would be in a bigger situation then just a stare.

Pina noticing that, walked over, handing her a wet towel to wash the blood off her hand and pulling her away from the opposing woman.

The medics go and grab more bandages, leaving you lying on the pitch with two other medics, they just sit there making sure you don't pass out or walk away.

You start to look around, still feeling blood coating your face which isn't a good feeling but what can you do at the moment?

You heart drops out of your ass and runs away to score a goal when you make eye contact with two women in the sidelines who look like copies of Alexia 100%.

They have worry etched on their face, when you make eye contact with Alba, she waves at you. Well this is just wonderful.

You smile at the sweet women and and lightly lift your hand, feeling too tired to do anything else.

It was a sweet moment, you felt like everything else just shut out, and it was a bonding moment between the two of you, as awkward as it sounds.

The medics come back over and finish up their process. When they tell you that you shouldn't come back on the pitch, you feel overwhelmed.

You worked so hard to get here, and can't even play. You feel tears prickle your eyes as they help you stand up, earning you a round of cheering and claps through out the stadium.

You start crying when you notice you can walk, you lost too much blood, and are too tired to walk.

Your sure the two women can see you crying. But your so overwhelmed that you cancel the thought out.

They medics lay you back down, earning confused faces from everyone.

"We need to carry you off okay-"

"I want Alexia to carry me off" You don't let the man finish before interrupting, you not wanting anyone else in that moment.

They nod before one of them signals to a worried Alexia who was already close and watching while biting her nails.

She runs over full speed and crouches down, listening to them talk while she brushes hair from your tear coated face.

"She has lost too much blood and is unable to walk off, would you carry her?" They ask and worry fills her eyes even more hearing that you cant walk.

Nodding, she kisses the crown of your head before picking you up bridal style.

She carries you with ease, making eye contact with her mother and sister before exiting the pitch entirely.

She walks into the medical room, laying your down on a bed making sure your comfortable.

"Okay amor, I have to go back out and play okay? Te amo mucho." (I love you so much). You nod with tears in your eyes, kissing her on the lips before she walks out.

You look up, trying to keep your tears in but failing, breaking down in the room, full of devastation and disappointment.

Likes and Reblogs are appreciated!

#alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso x reader

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urhoneycombwitch · 6 months ago

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heated touch

foreword: “but Lulu it’s not even summer yet how come you wrote a pool fic” okay first of all global warming. it’s absolutely summer rn. hush up and eat up. 👼

cw: R wears bikini top + skirt, Eddie is Down Bad™️, and is also touchstarved, brief use of the awkward miscommunication trope, R’s baby hairs mentioned but no color or texture, weed mention (Robin is a stoner canon change my mind u can’t), R uses sunscreen (no skin color mentioned), implied plus-sized reader

wc: 3.4k

___

It’s the first real, normal, non-apocalyptic summer that anyone can remember having in a long, long time.

With the heat index at a sizzling 97 today, various members of the Party have taken over Steve’s half-shaded, half-pool extravaganza of a backyard. The kids are jumping in and out of the bright blue water, splashing and cackling, while you and Robin stretch out like house cats in a sunny patch of grass nearby.

You, mere yards away, in a swim top and sweet little pleated tennis skirt. All that lovely skin on display, glistening in the light.

And Eddie is sulking, indoors, frozen with lovesickness. There’s condensation dripping from the forgotten can of beer in his left hand; through the window above the kitchen sink, Eddie observes the scene in mournful silence.

“Christ, you really are a pussy.”

Eddie whips around with a glare that would level a normal human being, shushing Steve with a panicked fierceness that only makes the guy chuckle harder at Eddie’s expense.

“Y’know,” Steve continues with the insults, dipping into the fridge and reappearing with a Fanta and a shit-eating grin- “You might want to try leering like a creep from the garage window. That way no will hear you jack off-”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Harrington.” Eddie interrupts with a grade-A scoff and eye roll combo, rivaling Steve’s own bitchiness. “Wasn’t your last successful date back in high school, like, six years ago when you had better hair?”

Steve doesn’t even flinch. With condescending sympathy, he sighs and shakes his head of (beautiful-even-when-wet, damn him) hair, snapping the soda can tab with a flourish. “Might wanna hurry up and make a move. Can’t suppress my charm forever just ‘cuz you’re too chicken to man up- it’s not natural to keep all of this hidden away.”

Steve gestures to the broad expanse of his golden chest, dark thicket of hair sitting proud, the scars that he seems to have no qualms over showing off criss-cross along the flex of muscle at his sides.

Realistically, Eddie knows Steve wouldn’t go after you, not even as a joke. It would defy the honorable and unmentioned Bro Code they’ve lived by ever since Eddie almost died in an alternate hell dimension and Steve valiantly pulled him back topside.

Teasing, though? It’s Harrington’s godgiven right- especially since Eddie’s so hopelessly in love. It’s almost too easy to get him riled up, to light a fire under his ass to maybe finally get the situation some forward movement.

Flames lick at the kindling. Steve walks backwards, shooting Eddie one last finger gun and wink before rejoining the boisterous outdoors crowd. Through the crack Steve’s left in the sliding glass door, Eddie can hear that asshole’s cheery voice ring out- “Lookin’ good, ladies!”- and your subsequent peal of laughter.

Eddie can feel the heat through the black denim at his ass, sweat rushing to prickle at his pits underneath the light layer of tanktop- the one with a high-necked collar and sides long enough to conceal most of his scars.

Not that he’s trying to hide ��em, perse... they’re just sensitive to the sun. Plus his black jeans have holes in them, so they totally count as summer attire. He’s basically wearing shorts right now. Steve can suck it.

“Suck it, Steve,” Eddie grits out to no one for good measure, before taking a steadying gulp of beer and stepping bravely out beyond the glass doors.

It’s shockingly bright, sun bouncing off the surface of the pool and rendering Eddie momentarily blind; he shields his eyes with his free hand in time to catch the tail end of Sinclair’s mid-air somersault.

“Five,” Max calls out, lounging safely out of the splash zone, waves from Lucas’s cannonball lapping at her pink donut pool float. Thick black prescription sunglasses take up half her face, expression unmoved even as her boyfriend splutters in the deep end.

“Are you kidding?” Lucas is indignant as he huffs and treads water. “Gimme at least an eight. Did you even see the flip?”

“I saw it.” Unimpressed, Max shrugs a freckled shoulder. While Lucas devolves into swearing out his complaints (already with one elbow planted on the concrete to get out and make another attempt at a higher score), Max zeros in on Eddie, one brow arched high in searing appraisal. “You gonna swim with your boots on, too?”

“I’m- shut up, Red. Nice donut.”

Max’s triumphant smirk confirms what Eddie already knows (he totally bombed that comeback), but if there’s one thing in the world Eddie’s good at, it’s Pretending. A trait forged and perfected over the years of being reigning Dungeon Master; it’s served him well during D&D sessions, and when running from the law.

And it’s coming in handy now, too, as Eddie walks past Steve (half-snoozing in a lounger) and the table of Baby Byers and Wheeler Jr. (playing an intense game of Slapjack), pretending to be totally Normal and Chill as he approaches you and Robin, a ways off from the bustling pool.

Go with what you know, Eddie tells himself, because if he focuses for more than two seconds on the fact that you’re stretched prone, sunlight filtering through the big tree overhead and illuminating the soft curves of your thighs just visible under the Spandex hem of your skirt, he’s gonna have a pressing issue that will be anything but pretend.

Robin’s lying on her back on the beach towel next to yours, a tattered copy of Pride and Prejudice held up close, obscuring her field of vision. Using this to his advantage, Eddie crouches on his haunches, then leans in to press his cold can of beer to the tender arch of Robin’s bare foot.

She yelps, kicking out on instinct (which Eddie was expecting). He manages to take the brunt of the hit with a forearm block, but doesn’t see the paperback coming until it’s hitting the side of his face.

“Ow, christ, Buckley,” he moans, slumping to sit on Robin’s towel, hamming up the victim act for your sake and sympathy while Robin snatches up her book and gives him another solid thwack, pages fluttering.

At the commotion, you’d lifted your head from your arms, leaning into them now with the weight of your upper half. Eddie tries really, really valiantly to not stare at your swimsuit top (practically a bra), and instead distracts himself with the fact that you were giggling. At him.

Give the boy an inch and he’ll take a mile, Wayne is wont to say of his nephew. Never been truer than now, as Eddie gets drunk off your attention and humors, crowding familiarly and rudely into Robin’s space just to piss her off more and to keep your twinkling-eyed focus.

“Yech.” Robin gags. “I’m not gonna sit here and watch you two flirt up close. I just ate lunch.”

Eddie’s worried that comment will embarrass you into pulling away but apparently, you’re not shying from the accusations of his affection anymore.

A snort and a sardonic eye roll is what you dish back, and Eddie latches on, delighted to have a Shit Starter in Crime, pushing an honest hand to his chest in faux-shock- “Flirting? Me? I’d never. What an accusation. You’re getting crazier by the day, Buckley.”

The peal of laughter that ripples from you is like a song, vibrating the frequencies between Eddie’s ears, scrambling all the channels with its aching beauty.

Goddamn addictive, he thinks, as the white-out of his hearing fades back to normal. A light, warm wind rustles through the big oak overhead, leaves shushing together; allowing himself a glance at your stretched form, Eddie’s (un)luckily close enough to see the smattering of goosebumps rise on the skin of your arms.

To observe the way sweat curls the baby hairs near your temple, at the nape of your neck. To see the little creases near the corner of your eyes as you close them, turning your face into the wind, a quiet expression of summer bliss on your face.

Eddie could sit here for hours like a (happy) creep just taking in every minute detail, but Robin starts bitching at him about the weed he still owes her from ages ago, poking her cold toes into the holes of his jeans, mischievous and irritating.

Eddie smacks at her ankles until she pulls them back, matching her argument point for point; it’s not about the weed, of which he’d gladly give- it’s about keeping that smile on your face even as you sit up to start digging through your nearby tote bag.

“And plus,” Robin’s saying, sticking a finger into the dimple of Eddie’s left cheek like the obnoxious little sister he never asked for, “You scratched the everliving hell out of my bike last month when you insisted you were sober enough to ride it home.”

“What’d you want me to do, drink and drive? Not very Just Say No Club of you.” Eddie is operating on autopilot with his responses, absorbed in the way your delicate fingers move inside the canvas of the bag.

“I wanted the same thing that I currently. Want.” Two more ice-cold prods of her toes into the same spot of his exposed knee. “Three grams, pre-rolled, plus an apology.”

Eddie is about to give in with the promise of the rest of his sizable stash and a bike waxing regimine with his own spit thrown into the mix to get Robin off his case, when the sound of your voice cuts through the bickering.

In your hand, held aloft and out between the three of you, is a bottle of sun lotion. Your focus is fixed on shaking displaced items back into your bag, not looking as you make a request:

“Babe, would you do my back?”

Eddie moves on instinct before he even has time to process the ask, reaching out towards the palm tree-printed plastic- but for some reason, Robin’s hand collides with his mid-air. Goddammit, Buckley.

His annoyance at Robin quickly gives way to confusion, then roiling embarrassment as two sets of eyes whip to him, your mouth slightly parted in an o shape and Robin making a squeak of awkward alarm.

You were talking to Robin. Obviously, you were talking to your girl friend to rub you down with lotion.

Jesus christ, Munson, get a grip.

Eddie lets go at the same time Robin and you draw back, the three of you stammering half-sentences over the thunk of the bottle hitting the ground.

“I meant- sorry, god, sorry, I meant Robin-”

“Fucking- jesus, of course you meant Robin, I’m sorry-”

“Oh god! I can do it! It’s fine!”

There’s a brief pause where all of you stare down at the bottle, as if it holds some great mystery of the world. Or is perhaps concealing a time-bending device that will let Eddie go back twenty seconds to kick himself in the head.

He’s just about to make some lame excuse to fuck off forever when Robin beats him to it, jumping up with a spastic, nervous energy. “Um. Steve’s calling me. So I gotta… see what that dingus wants. You’re good?”

This last part, directed at you; with a quick, reassuring nod, you say “I’m good.”

Seemingly recouped from the whole debacle, you squint up at Robin- “Eddie’s got it,” and then fixing Eddie with a disarmingly beatific smile- “Right?”

It’s like looking into the sun. Eddie is pretty sure his neurons haven’t been firing properly ever since he caught a glimpse of your thighs earlier. By some miracle, he manages coherence- “Uh-huh. Yep. Right.”

“O-o-kay.” Robin lets the word expand, then gives a dorky two-finger salute and makes for the empty pool lounger next to a snoring Steve.

Then it’s just you and Eddie, blinking at each other from your seats on opposing towels, until you lean to pick up the bottle, this time handing it directly to him.

An invitation, paired with a smile that still pulls at the corners of your mouth.

Someone jumps noisily into the pool, a few scattered cheers accompanying the crashing water. Red’s distant “Nine-five!” echoes through the backyard and this, of all things, spurs Eddie into unfreezing.

He takes the proffered lotion, shifting to kneel in the strip of grass not covered by either of your towels, waiting and watching for your approval.

Like something out of a dream, you lower yourself face-down again, hands tucking themselves sweetly into the space between the hollows of your shoulders and the ground. Eyes half-lidded as Eddie scooches closer.

“Just on your back?” He asks, soft, like you’re a deer about to spook (although based on the way his hands are trembling, Eddie’s the more likely candidate for chickening out and running for the hills).

“Mhm. Please.”

Fumbling under your sidelong gaze, Eddie wiggles all the rings from his fingers, stuffing them into his pocket.

“Too cold,” he explains, feeling fidgety from your eye contact, rubbing his hands together briskly to bring out the warmth and give them something to do other than shake.

Eddie pines for a cigarette, a quick burst of nicotine to steel his nerves. Instead, he picks up the sunscreen, squeezes a quarter-sized puddle into his left hand, and shifts to kneel close as he can without actually bumping his knees into your side.

The sunscreen is already warmed from being out in the heat of the day, so Eddie starts on your left shoulder. Dips his fingers into the puddle, spreads a thin layer on the blade of your shoulder, and rubs it in.

At first, his touch is gentle and apprehensive, but when your eyes drift shut on the second pass of his fingers, Eddie gets a bit bolder. On your right shoulder, another layer of suncream goes on, but this time, Eddie lets his thumb slip into the grooves under your shoulder blade.

He runs his thumb along the stripe of muscle next to your scapula, still with pressure light enough to feign keeping to his task, thrilled when you make a soft noise of satisfaction.

“I would’ve asked you, y’know.”

Eddie pauses, hand resting at the top of your spine, the skin of your neck freshly glistening and tacky from his work. “Asked me what?”

“To do this.” You shrug a shoulder, pointing in a roundabout way at your back. “I just… I didn’t think you’d say yes.”

“Why the hell would I say no to this?” The words are out before Eddie can bite them back and find a much more cool and normal thing to say. He can feel your chuckle, the vibrations of it, the way it causes the muscles in your upper back to move.

Eddie tries to cover his lameness by refocusing on the mission he’s been given, like a heroic knight bestowed with a great honor by a fair maiden… on second thought, he’s got to cut out the fantasy metaphors. This situation is wild and tempting enough as-is without adding a potentially very horny layer to the mix.

“You can get under my top, if you want,” you murmur, lashes dark against your cheek in profile, voice all honeyed and fair-maiden-like.

Eddie swallows hard. Distributes the rest of the lotion between two palms, rests them just below the black fabric, and then slides up. Underneath the top, your skin is the same- smooth and pliant and sweet.

“Feels nice,” you whisper, eyes still closed in reverie, sounding sleepy and relaxed.

Eddie is entranced with the way your muscles move under his touch. He applies a bit more pressure to the mid-back area of your spine, dragging his thumbs down on either side. You make another noise, this one closer to a moan, and Eddie’s really glad he’s practiced at the skill of Boner Killer On Command because he wouldn’t dare sully the atmosphere with ill-timed arousal (though his limits are certainly being tested today).

“Sorry about the callouses,” he says, a bit of self-deprecation to fill the air because he’s gotta focus on something other than the way his hand fits perfectly in the center of your low back.

“S’okay. I like them, actually. You’re good with your hands.”

Not for the first time, Eddie is relieved that you’re not looking at him- his ears are burning, on their way to bright pink. Same with his cheeks. “Cool, yeah. That’s good. Um. I play guitar, y’know so… I get around.”

After cringing at himself, Eddie watches the apple of your cheek round upwards with a smile, a sharp flash of your teeth as you say, “I can tell.”

There’s an amiable quiet that falls over the two of you; in the background, splashes and chattering from the pool group float in the air, muted by the warm winds shushing through overhead branches.

At one point, Eddie realizes he’s covered your whole back in sunscreen and is now just trailing his fingertips over the notches of your spine, starting low and ending near your neck, following the path down again in a loop. If you mind, you don’t say anything, seemingly sated by his touch.

There’s an aching behind Eddie’s ribs. It squeezes at his heart, makes his next breath pinch- he wants to touch you like this all the time. He’s already hooked.

All too soon, you’re peeling yourself from the blanket, sitting up with a sheepish smile. Eddie can’t tell if you’re getting shy on him from the touch alone, or if it’s the fact that he’s the one that’s been touching.

Either way, if Eddie could find a more chill way to say “I’d like to do that every minute for the rest of my life if you’ll let me,” he’d say it to appease any worries you may have.

Bare knees pulled to your chest, you gesture at the bottle still in Eddie’s hand. “I could… do you, if you wanted?”

Eddie scratches the back of his neck, through the heated curtain of curls. “Nah, that’s okay. My abs won’t be ready to debut until the end of summer. 1993.”

He’s expecting at least a chuckle out of you, but instead, he’s fixed with a kind, all-knowing look.

The two of you are face to face, your shin close enough to brush Eddie’s ribs as you state, “Not a fan of the heat, are you.”

“What gave it away?” Eddie gestures animatedly at the humidity-fed frizz of his hair, then shakes his head like a wet dog.

When you catch one of his curls between two fingers he freezes, heart slamming to a pause as you loop it around a knuckle.

“I have some deep conditioner at my place. Could help you out if you wanna come by some time.”

Mere inches from his cheek as you lean in, Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, trying to memorize how you smell- coconutty from the lotion, a bit sweaty, a faint hint of deodorant and the vanilla perfume you spray in the mornings.

He’s never been this close before.

He feels electric. Or more accurately, like he’s been electrocuted, and he’s waiting for you to restart his heart.

“Does that sound good, Eddie? You, me, some hair care… maybe a movie? I can steal some from Family Video. I know a guy.”

At his ear now, your voice is low as you wrap a hand around the inside of Eddie’s arm- it’s his turn to break into goosebumps. “Oh yeah? Willing to steal for me already?”

This earns him a stellar laugh, head tipped back to show the curve of your perfect neck. You shove at him playfully, and he’s about to snap up your hand to bite as payback when your name is yelled from across the yard.

“Come on, we need another unbiased judge!” Max waves urgently from the pool as Lucas and Dustin get into an increasingly loud argument over the Olympic grading system.

“Goddamn kids.” This comes out much more growly than Eddie intended; you just chuckle and squeeze his arm before pulling away to stand.

Eddie mourns the loss of your body heat until you extend a hand towards him, saying, “Let’s go humor our goddamn kids, and we can talk about dinner afterwards.”

It’s like your hand is made to fit inside Eddie’s. He follows close on your heels, heart thudding a steady, overjoyed rhythm once more.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things fic

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agendabymooner · 1 year ago

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SOMETHING BIG !!! TOTO W. X FEM!READER

summary: she was too good for him, and he was just a perfect fit.

content warning: smut content (minors dni!), explicit language, pwp, size kink, creampie, praise kink, beta reading what is that we rawdog our writing in here

note: just reached 400+ notes on the max verstappen one… we all need to touch some grass. enjoy xx

a - n masterlist

o - z masterlist

send your 💌re:moony’s planner requests here!

this wasn’t the first time she found herself in such a compromising position: her back against the mattress, her body folded in half and her legs hanging over his shoulders while his cock repeatedly speared her insides. this wasn’t the first time, but his size always made their encounters feel like it.

she didn’t complain; instead, she begged for more. she wanted to feel all of him and who was he to deny such a pretty plea?

“f- fuck,” she stammered, her mouth opening slightly as she gasped, “h- s’good. so, so good… fuck!”

toto’s 6’5 being hadn’t helped the intimidation that she normally felt, either. six months into the relationship and she still felt intimidated by his aura.

he didn’t want her to feel that way. in those days when cameras and other people weren’t around, he showered her with affection and adoration. he showed her a side that most people wouldn’t have a chance to see; one that she loved the most.

but there were times when she just wanted him to ruin her. much like now.

toto groaned in satisfaction, his hands keeping a tight hold on her ass while his cock continued to split her body. she was so light for him that he hadn’t realized her hips were lifted off the mattress. “fucking hell. you’re doing so well for me, schatzi.”

his hand took her smaller one and brought it down to her lower stomach, his hips snapping against hers as her lower stomach bulged. “d’ya feel that, schatz?”

“i- mh- hm~” she cried out, whimpering at the thought that it was him— that was an imprint of him inside her. that her body was being imprinted and fucked by his cock— one that she thought wouldn’t fit inside her.

yet he did. he fit perfectly well and he continued to be the only person who’d ever fit so well inside her.

“so fucking good for me, schatz,” he growled, his hand now reaching down to rub her clit vigorously as her mouth let out a squeak. “letting me fuck you like this— like a good girl you are. such a perfect girl with a perfect pussy…”

“ngh~ toto,” she whined, squirming against him as his fingers moved in circles on her clit, “s’good… please!” her body remained folding in half, her cunt splitting as he thrusted. her stomach fluttered at the feeling of an incoming orgasm, her body shaking as her walls clenched around his cock.

“gonna cum in you,” he groaned, his hips pistoning against hers. “gonna fuck you full of my cum— fuck, schatz. gonna make sure you’re filled to the brim with my cum— fuck!”

his hips stuttered as he let out a moan, feeling her come around him while she cried out in pleasure. her mind felt hazy, only thinking about the oversensitivity that she felt as her vision turned white.

she almost whimpered at the emptiness when he pulled out slowly, her body limping to the bed as she tried to keep her eyes open, but her mind eventually gave up as she kept her eyes closed.

toto sighed, looking down at his handiwork as he watched the mixture of his and her pleasure leaking out of her glistening cunt. so fucking perfect.

he smiled to himself, eventually finding himself lying next to her. pulling her closer, he leaned down to press a kiss on her hair before murmuring, “you did so good for me.”

of course she did. nobody could handle him and his figure more than she did. nobody could handle his desire and lust like she did, and was he ever thankful for that.

#toto wolff x reader #toto wolff smut #formula one smut #f1 smut #toto wolff imagine #formula one imagine #formula one fic #toto wolff fic

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hazelfoureyes · 8 months ago

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A Doe in Fall (part 5)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things Part 10 - Good Deeds Part 11 - Caught Part 12 - Eddie

Part 5 Too Much

Actions famously speak louder than words, so what did you say, exactly, to Alastor with your actions that night? You were briefly rattled by what happened in the park but not for the obvious reasons. Despite everything, despite your fears, you found the situation deepening between you two when he suddenly invites to stay the night at his home. Perhaps he had fears of his own?

「Warnings/Promises: Human Alastor x Fem Burlesquer reader, No smut! That’s next part because this part was already super fucking long 😭 , but we do flirt our asses off and get taken by the hand, crying, panic attacks, discussions of murder, dead bodies, you really have to stop smoking, deer, adorably nervous Alastor, this man owns more than one mug you fucking know it」

19 days later… 😩 please don’t kill me. 5000 words here, Another like 6000 words are posting this Thursday, also tumblr wouldn’t let me post this for like an hour , just gave me error messages, I had to copy and paste 4 times so there may be some errors in here so let me know if you find spelling or format issues🙏

When he came to, momentarily either unconscious or just incapacitated as his brain started up again, he was frantic for his glasses. He could hear the sounds of a brutal death, the crunch of anger, the squish of rage.

His eyes focused now, slightly askew and smudged glasses helping him see you clearly.

Leaning over the man, hands red and face twisted in a marriage of fear and wrath, you were bringing a large rock down on the man’s unrecognizable face over and over and over and—

You flinched when Alastor’s hands delicately slipped down your arms and peeled your fingers from the rock.

Full body shaking, “He was going to kill you!” You said it too loud, too fast. “He was going to—,” Your breath got caught in your throat, “He wanted to— He was trying to kill you, Alastor.”

Wet with mud and blood and the rain still left on the grass, you were pulled into Alastor’s lap. He tucked your head into the crook of his neck with a small wince and hugged you. “He was. He almost did.” Low and slow, his chest rumbled when he said it. “You did such a good job.”

You looked down at your hands, but he pulled your face back up to look at his, “Always surprising me in the best ways.”

You’d forgotten already, how when adrenaline wanes you’re left with terrible tremors and a suddenly clear head. Alastor almost died. You hadn’t thought at all when it happened. Everything had taken place so fast, faster than your brain could process.

You had seen Alastor stop struggling against the man, his body went still and your eyes were blinded with tears, there was a horrible sound that may have come from you, and then there was nothing. A flash of running Colors. Distant muddled sounds.

Maybe you saw someone grab a rock.

You might have hit the man on the back of the head.

You think he fell down and something didn’t stop moving against him.

Perhaps you thought if you hit him enough you could make it have not happened at all. If you killed him fast enough, Alastor would have been fine and standing.

But you weren’t sure. You blinked and Alastor was touching you and underneath you was a pulp of a man’s face.

Alastor’s heart was racking against his ribs. Arms tightening around you unconsciously as his eyes landed on the dead man.

He’d gotten too comfortable. He pushed too hard. He wanted too much. He was too much.

He felt himself spilling over and staining your hands metaphorically and now literally.

You didn’t feel anything. Not during. Now you felt too much.

Your mind was filled with an echoing chorus of, ‘He almost killed him. He almost died. He almost killed him. He almost died. He almost died. He almost died.”

There was a strange fear that Alastor had died, and any second you’d blink again and be alone in the trees with two dead men. You twisted in his lap, hands rocketing to Alastor’s face and gripping the sides of his head. You were staring into his eyes, panting.

“You can’t die. I’ll—,” tears poured down your face in streams not drops. Your throat closed around the words. Short and fast, your breath ran wild. Hands tingling, your lips felt like they were pricked with a hundred tiny needles.

Alastor pushed down his own mess of emotions, “One deep breath in.” His hands settled on yours, still on his face. He could feel the familiar stickiness of drying blood in his hair. “Keep breathing in.” You coughed, shaking your head no. “You can, I promise it. Would I lie to you?”

You laughed, managing to catch your breath for a moment, “Y-yes.”

“Well, now you’re adding insult to injury.” He made a show of rubbing his neck. You smacked his chest lightly, breathing in twice in a row.

He held both of your hands in both of his, “Name a time I’ve ever lied.” He distracted you but wounded himself. He could name a time.

You tried to think. “I don’t know. Maybe you’re just a really good liar.” Your voice was hoarse.

Alastor nodded, “That’s true, there’s actually nothing I can’t do well.”

Another laugh, a cry, “Stop it.”

His warm, clean hands wiped your tears. “You’re being aggressive again, sweetheart. You know I prefer soft spoken women.”

The laughter helped break the cycle of hyperventilating. As your breathing finally got to a manageable speed you felt exhaustion deep in your bones.

All at once the sensations became prominent. Your knees were red and muddy, your hands bloody, your left side and back wet. You were sticky and sore and cold. “Alastor,” his legs were framing you, yours now folded under yourself and digging into rocks, “I wanna go home.” You adjusted his glasses, “Together.”

If he had a reason to say no, he ignored it.

“I thought I was the messy one.” He washed your hands with the water cans and settled you into the passenger seat of his car. Alastor took care of filling the trunk and cleaning the ground before sliding into the driver's seat.

He turned to you, his face dirty and clothes worse. You looked down at yourself; knees a color of wine, and blue dress now dyed brown.

“I know you have to get rid of him. So, I won’t ask you to sleep over. Just,” you felt sleepy, mind asking you to let it catch up, “let me take care of you for a little bit. Okay?”

His hand slipped onto your leg, he wanted to make a joke about sex or murder hoping to make you laugh again. But it was obvious he needed to be quiet, so he just nodded.

Alastor left the car on a side street behind your building. The man whose name you never asked concealed under canvas and red oil tins.

Luckily everything was clean in your apartment. It was small, just one room and a bathroom. The other apartments you’d seen had communal toilets and showers so you were quite proud of your space. You’d made it yours, gifted trinkets here and there, walls decorated with hanging dried flowers you'd had thrown at your feet. A shrine to your abilities.

You peeled off his clothes, tossing them in the kitchen sink and wiping off as much dirt as you could with a damp rag.

Clothing hanging over the radiator, you both got into the shower. Cold and wet now hot and soaking, you took his hands and sat you both down in the tub while the water ran down. Taking your time, you gently scratched the blood and mud from his hair and let it all wash away.

When fully cleaned and dried off he slipped on the only bit of clothing he had left, a loose pair of boxer shorts. You had a slip, silky and soft, to comfort you. Your mother wore silk, and it always made you feel safe. The way the fabric slid around its self and others, never catching or bunching up, was something you always hoped to emulate; smooth and cool, but always in need of a little caution and care.

A small bed meant for one, but you offered it. When Alastor motioned for you to slide in too, you didn’t hesitate.

Nose to nose, the room was quickly heating up with the radiator's help.

You hadn’t been in a bed with Alastor in nearly two months, not since that first time. His words stuck to you like embroidered messages lovingly stitched into a handkerchief you didn’t want to lose. So you kept your hands between your thighs, still and away, to make sure he had space to exist in your bed.

“You saved my life.” Alastor whispered, one of you finally bringing up the obvious.

A hummed acknowledgment, “That makes us even.” He saved you before, you did the same in turn. A little piece of you worried the contract was done and he’d disappear.

“No, my dear. I owe you so much more.” A kiss to your cheek.

A terrifying thought took hold of you. “Roll over.” He looked confused but did. You were always asking him to turn away, always trying to hide your face when you said things that scared you. You hooked your arms under his and held tightly.

“If I wasn’t there, there’s no one to have told me. How long would I have waited,” another torrent of tears into his back you couldn’t keep in if you tried, “at the phone booth for you to call in the morning.”

You were crying like a child, uncontrolled and with your entire body. Pathetic.

He had never had someone to worry about those details. Everyone truly close to him was dead. Until now, of course.

Of course.

What a natural addition you provided to him. He thought it like that it was a long standing fact.

He hugged your arms tighter to his chest.

A shiver of fear in the warm bed as you continued, “I want to be there. With you. Always.” You gathered your courage. Shields completely down, if just for a moment, “I know there was nothing right about tonight but,” you wiped your tears off his back with your palm, reabsorbing that pain before he could soak it in, “Please. Don’t shut me out now. I’ll go to hell tomorrow for you but please don’t damn me to picking up a newspaper and seeing your name in the headlines; Learning you died in block letters for a nickel. I wouldn’t survive it.”

You didn’t want to meet his eyes, worried rejection was waiting for you there, so you’d asked him to turn so you could hide. He picked up your hands and kissed your knuckles one by one. “Please don’t say things like that outloud. Things like ‘go to hell’ and ‘tomorrow’ so close together. The spirits can hear you.” A kiss to your palm, “And I wouldn’t dare shut you out.” He couldn’t. The very idea of going back to how he was before, alone and mumbling to the dead, made his heart race with his own panic. If you disappeared tomorrow he was scared to think what would happen to him. “Plus, I know you’d just find me anyway. You always do.”

Had you not been there, he would have still tried to kill the man. Waiting in an alley or for a walk home through an empty space. You weren’t at fault. He’d been hurt before, but this was by far the worst situation he had been in. But he would have been in it regardless of your participation. Alastor pressed his lips into your hand, smelling the soap you’d washed him with.

You hadn’t hesitated. He had thought you would run, that he’d slip away into death and you’d book it to safety. Something he never planned to ask you to do, to kill someone, you’d done it for him when it was the most selfless option. Did he mean so much to you? He wanted to ask, but if you said anything other than an immediate yes he feared he would turn to a pillar of salt and crumble.

If you both could find the courage to just look at each other you’d have all your answers. But you couldn’t. The fear still too strong. So you changed the topic for a chance at an escape.

A small confession, to turn the conversation away from death. “After our dates, your cologne always lingers on my clothes. Sometimes I just fall asleep in them. When I wake up, my pillow smells like you.” Your body formed against his back, pressing as tightly as you could. How was that less embarrassing than everything else you’d said when it was arguably more pathetic?

He was quiet. You worried you’d pushed too far. Alastor worried he’d already hurt you too much.

“If you asked me,” he spoke slowly, hands resting on yours above his heart, a deep breath, “I’d stop.” He would.

But, “I’d never ask that of you.” You said it so quickly, like blinking or yawning it happened without you needing to think about it. Alastor did something he felt he needed to do, you saw that look in his eyes before and understood this was Alastor at his truest. And the people he killed weren’t good people. He provided a service to New Orleans that no one appreciated.

He smiled against your palm, making sure you felt it, “Why are you so good to me?”

Without hesitation, Because I love you.

After a beat of silence, “Because you know where I live, obviously.”

A huff, “And where you work.”

“And the park where I like to get fingered.”

Finally, his unburdened laugh, “I didn’t expect you to say that.” That sound of his joy bounced off the thin walls around you both. He rarely expected anything you said or did. It was part of your charm. Normally he could predict what people would say like reading a bad story, but you were something else. Effortlessly entertaining, was that a compliment? He was sure you’d say no and make that face you always did, something between a pout and a glare, between sad and angry.

He had been asking genuinely. Why were you so good to him? Why so patient? Why care at all?

“Can you sleep? Or do you need to go?”

Alastor thought about it, if he left early enough he could still get home in time to empty the trunk. He hummed an affirmative, when he didn’t move you understood it was the former. He didn’t want to go. He needed more time. He needed to feel you nearby. An odd sense that if he pulled away now the thread holding you two together would pull him apart at the seams with the distance.

You would think nightmares would plague you after killing someone in cold blood, but no. You practically killed Tommy, when you considered it thoroughly. And while this night was not a joy, you had defended yourself and Alastor. You didn’t feel bad. You didn’t regret it. You were just scared you did a bad job. That you’d get caught.

The kind of dreams you had were different kinds of scary. Of Alastor always leaving a room when you entered, of falling off the stage and landing too far down, of waking up to feel Alastor cold beside you.

When you did wake, your arms were still tight around him and he was warm. Your forehead rested between his shoulder blades. You didn’t feel different this time, you didn’t feel changed like after Tommy.

Alastor always had nightmares so he wasn’t surprised to have them in your bed. He dreamt he awoke on the ground, the man was gone but you were there broken into several pieces.

Had it been a dream though?

After he dressed, you brushing his hair over a shared cup of coffee (you only had the single mug), you walked him to his car. The sun was nearly up and luckily no one else was. You had just wrapped a coat around your slip, not exactly acceptable clothing for being in public.

A shared kiss, small and chaste, Alastor’s mind elsewhere. He opened the door but stopped and turned back to you. It was always in these moments before you two parted that he felt the most frantic.

“I know we love talking in circles and making jokes, but I have to ask you, bluntly. You killed a man. Are you alright?” When you only blinked, he quickly added, “It’s okay if you’re not.” His expression was pure worry, furrowed brows and flat mouth. “Nothing will change if you say you’re not.”

When you started to smile, Alastor thought he had lost his mind. The sun was rising behind you, making the shadows on your face slowly shift. He took a second to take in the scene. Ankles naked with sockless shoes. To your right was a trunk full of a dead man. And you just smiling like he’d made a joke. Which he explicitly said he wasn’t going to do.

“I don’t feel like I killed anyone.” You said it with a levity that made him glance around, wondering if you’d hit your head a little too hard earlier, “I feel like I stopped someone from killing you. Which feels,” you fought to suppress your smile from growing any further, “kinda good. Like I’m strong. I’m just scared I made a mistake and police will find out. I’m terrified we’ll be seperated. But I don’t feel bad.”

A normal man would be deeply concerned. You didn’t feel bad? For killing a man with a rock? Arguably one of the most brutal ways to murder a person. A normal man would worry he would be next.

Luckily for you both, Alastor was not a normal man. He stared at your face, trying to discern any hints of deceit there before he fell into the comfort of trust.

Your pinky came out, “I’m fine, and if I’m ever not, I will tell you. Promise.” His eyes left your face to stare at the tiny digit, “If I break the promise, you get to break the pinky.”

“Pinkies are useless, we should use a finger that matters.” He offered his index. You let yourself laugh, hooking your pointer finger with his.

Smile to smile, he exhaled his stress and slipped into his normal demeanor, “No worries, darling! No one will ever know what happened to him.” He leaned beside you and patted the trunk. “Leave it to me.”

Alastor drove away with the man, ready to disappear the body and try to sleep before work if possible. A nagging still sat in his stomach, a little pull that maybe you’d change your mind.

He asked you the next morning, on your routine call, if he could stop by the theater when he finished with work that night. No reason in particular. He’d pull into the side street, and you could run out to see him.

When he arrived, you were in your stage outfit waiting to greet the crowd. Alastor smiled, “The prettiest bird I’ve ever seen!”

“A bird? Alastor just ‘pretty’ woulda been a fine compliment.”

He offered an apology by way of kiss, soft hands coming to your cheek as he leaned against the door of his car. “I just wanted to see you. Steal a kiss before you stole some hearts. May I return tomorrow?”

Ah, that feeling again. Stupid school girl with her first crush, her first taste of love. “I wouldn’t complain.”

That flow of conversation eased Alastor, things felt normal already. For you, they were. A small worry remained he may begin to act differently but the only difference was he seemed to be embracing you deeper.

After your delivered kiss, you took the stage like a woman reborn. The warmth of the light felt like the sun. Pointed toes as you moved along the stage, hips loose and smile coy.

As you looked around the backlit crowd you didn’t search for a good mark. The times you did play a man’s attention for Alastor were different, it felt like art when you lured men into Alastor’s claws.

A shake of your feathered fans, a very controlled lowering of your head, you let a hip rock out into view. A little flash of inner thigh. Then, your favorite part. One hand gripped your fans as you them with the aide of practiced fingers. Free hand undoing your still remarkably heavy and glittering bra and handing it behind the curtain.

Surprise reveal, a naked magic trick done behind distracting whirling feathers. Arms open, fans high, you waited for the applause to die down. Deep breaths were not possible, adrenaline and the weight of your costume keeping you from hiding the heaving of your chest.

The whistles were your favorite. You couldn’t imagine Alastor whistling but you were sure it would be flawless in its ability to capture your attention.

“Anyone wanna smoke? I don’t want to go into the alley alone.” You asked the room, several girls glancing your way and shaking their heads no as you hurried back in from your set.

“Just take the fire escape to the roof. That’s where we’ve been smoking since Mr. Brady said it was dangerous at night.” Florence was normally a perfect smoking partner, never talking too much. The name Brady made your stomach flip though, you had forgotten about him for a second. You’d managed to avoid him until Tommy’s bloody trail went cold, but you knew he still stalked around the jazz and music district.

A dancer laughed, “Nighttime has always been dangerous for women.”

Someone you didn’t see added, “Fuck, daytimes not safe either.”

You climbed the creaky and seemingly forgotten-about fire escape to the roof. The breeze hit your face before your feet even left the metal railing.

It was… a roof. Grey painted floors and brick sides. Nothing special, but you could see the bowl full of discarded cigarettes near the front of the building. You looked over the short wall that edged the front, you were able to see the pigeon shit covered marquee. What an unattractive view, the lights flashing out from beneath actual shit.

There was a metaphor there, you were sure.

Looking around, there were a few wicker chairs hidden in the shadow of the street’s lights, thankfully upside down to keep them clean from the birds.

If more people used roofs instead of alleys Alastor would be out of luck. Tommy was difficult enough with a staircase, the fire escape would have been the nail in that coffin.

It had been a lovely night, absolutely jarring compared to the night before. You leaned back in the chair, you knew you weren’t the best at saying what you meant. Especially when the words you offered could be used to hurt you. Words of affection and love, when true, were daggers given handle-first to someone else.

So you hoped Alastor could guess how much he meant to you. You shouldn’t need to say it, right? Actions speak louder than words. You bludgeoned a man to death for what you had thought was a lost cause. It had seemed Alastor was already dead when you first brought down the rock.

Diamonds are rocks, you considered. The most expensive costume the theater had was peacock feathered with shining crystals. You wanted to say you felt like a peacock, spirit large and wide and colorful. But those were males. Of course they were. The animal kingdom had males compete for mates with pretty colors and lovely songs. Now ladies pranced around in painted faces and short dresses. You didn’t feel pale or small like the ‘fairer sex’ peacock.

You felt like the swan. Vicious and beautiful, not out shone by anyone.

Well there was someone you’d allow to shine brighter. Someone you’d happily let take the lead. You’d thought letting a man walk in front of you was a sign of subservience. It hadn’t ever occurred to you that there could be respect in trusting someone else to go ahead. That the act of going first could be for protection and not power.

“Hey!”

You hurried to the fire escape, “yeah?”

“There’s a man asking for you. Tall guy named Frank?”

Frank?

Oh, Frank.

You’d forgotten about him. He’d left months ago. He was a whale, rich and generous. You took a moment to consider sitting down with him, smiling and laughing at his jokes, letting his hand settle on your thigh. It had been weeks since you entertained scamming anyone, and now you couldn’t even stomach the idea of faking interest in another man. Frank wasn’t one to scam, he just liked having a pretty lady on his arm to make him feel young and wanted, and in exchange you got into private parties and were gifted jewelry and clothing.

“Tell him I’m busy and send him off.” You hollered down. You could buy your own clothes.

“Did he leave?” Alastor asked you the next morning, you leaning against the glass phone booth in the early morning light.

Your finger wrapped around the phone cord, “No of course not! They never do. I snuck out the back.”

There was a hum, “Well my dear, you’ve offered me a wonderful transition into my next question.” Alastor was sitting at his kitchen table, nervously turning his coffee cup around in circles, “Would you like to come over tomorrow night? I can pick you up after your show.”

Like a glacier drifting away from shore, you very slowly crouched down in the booth. “To your home?”

“No, to Alabama.” He waited a beat, “Yes of course my home. I can show you what happens after I drive away.” A cheeky smile evident through his voice.

You pressed the phone receiver into your chest, teeth chewing on your bottom lip. What happens when he drives away? So…where the bodies go. But most importantly, the biggest part of this—where he lives. So much can be gleaned about someone from their home. A bookshelf alone could make or break an attraction. You brought the receiver back to your mouth. “Lovely! Sure thing— Alastor. Yes.” you almost added on an awkward nickname like daddy-o or mister man, like an idiot, because your brain was misfiring like you’d seen him in the sunlight again.

Ah, you could see his bed.

Where he slept.

Did he ever dream of you?

What if it was terribly dirty? Could you still love him if he was a slob?

“I’m quite far from downtown, pack an overnight bag, okay?” He stopped fidgeting with the mug. When the call ended he sat at the table for some time, staring around the kitchen. The home was large by city standards, but it was old. His mother’s charm was evident through every part. A finger scratched at the wooden table, heavy and solid. Why was his heart racing?

He walked to the screened back door, looking from the weathered patio steps to the greenhouse.

No one had ever been to his home. Ever. A teensy part of him was panicking. Was this a mistake? Was he going to fuck up the budding relationship? Throw off the peace of his safest place?

Budding. Okay that was ridiculous even for him. The kind of intimacy gained through murder did not allow any union to be called budding. He’d shared pieces of himself no other living soul knew of. Your image of him was possibly even more complete than his own mother had held, even though he tried to always be the most sincere with her. Even people he did care for and consider close friends had never knew where he lived. Never heard what kept him up at night. Never learned his distaste for a random lay.

Opening the screen door with a signature creak, the sound many southerners could call comforting, he walked to the greenhouse.

The newest part of the property, the glass walled structure was built shortly after his mother’s death. Double doors: locked. Just beyond the glass was a forest of plants and potted trees. They had no need for a greenhouse, but Alastor had a need for them.

He set about preparing his home for another occupant, a task that brought him such a shock of joy and anxiety he began to wonder who he was. New sheets on the bed, extra pillows set against his wooden headboard. Large glass jar in the backyard full of water and tea bags.

It was also unexpected he was thinking so much of his mother. In a perfect world she’d be there to greet you. Though if she was alive, he wouldn’t have been in that alley that night. He made a mental note to not mention his mother, at least not as much as he was remembering her as he walked around the two story home tidying.

Would he have met you if he wasn’t a killer?

A flicker of fear was quickly extinguished by romance. Definitely. You both ran in the same scenes. He’d seen you before that night, he just never approached you. He hadn’t anticipated how much more you were than the facade you put on. Nothing about your sweet face said, ‘I have a high tolerance for murder.’

Alastor spent the day at work physically present but mentally pacing his living room. He nodded along to discussions of who was to be live on set next, smile never faltering as he worried if he had breakfast foods. He rarely ate breakfast, did you? How had he not thought to ask. Sloppy.

The only outward sign he was feeling any stress was the tapping of his finger on his desk, which he hadn’t even noticed until the stage manager commented.

“Alastoooor,” her voice was high, like it seemed many women’s voices were recently. Was it a trend? “Impatient? Hot date with a young lady this evening?”

While she meant well, she always pried, always asked questions he didn’t appreciate.

Alastor shook his head, smile strained. A perceptive person would have picked up on it, but Brenda was not perceptive.

“Oh.” A noticeable disappointment, “That’s boring.”

Actually on second thought maybe she didn’t mean well.

“I’ve had too much coffee, is all, Brenda.” He pulled his hand into his lap. “Was there anything you needed?”

“No,” she pouted, much less endearing than you.

If he murdered purely for fun Debra would be dead before sunset. Unfortunately her only crime was being remarkably annoying.

Alastor waited behind the theater, where it was less likely any staff would see him. It was still important to avoid connecting the two of you together, at least at your workplace yet.

He was quick to grab your bag for you.

“Not the trunk, please.” You said, it took him a second to catch the joke. He set it on the back seat after opening your door for you. You’d only been in his car a few times but he never failed to be a perfect gentleman.

Your palms were sweating, when his hand rested on your leg while he drove you resisted the urge to hold it. Instead you slipped yours under his. Alastor asked you about your day, about work, about if Frank came back. Typically as soon as you left the theater you were in a cone of silence until your phone call with him the next day. It was kind of nice, having someone to speak to. Before meeting him there were times you worried you’d forget how to talk naturally, how to sound like yourself.

The glowing eyes of deer popped up from the side of the road, startling you. Eerie. You held your breath, would they run, stay still, or sprint into the road.

“Is it true their antlers can break car windshields?” You asked not breaking eye contact with a doe as you drove past.

Alastor nodded, “If a buck hits your car the wrong way, not even the car will make it out of the accident.”

“Are there a lot of bucks around?”

“Will be soon, as fall— wait why am I telling you this,” he laughed, “Miss Autumn Hind already knows what makes the bucks run wild.”

You shouldn’t be smiling, it was a dumb rut joke, but it felt like a compliment.

The car lights passed over the home as he turned into the dirt driveway. Powder blue. It wasn’t a color you associated with Alastor. He was caramel, honey, midnight blue, red. His sometimes sinister smile didn’t look quite right against powder blue. But, for a home, it was lovely.

“Is someone home?” You saw a light on in an upstairs room.

Alastor reached behind you for your bag, “No, I leave it on when I’m gone. Gives the impression that the house isn’t empty.”

A minor bit of acting, Alastor opening the door and offering to bring your bag upstairs before a tour like a good host. His anxious energy was barely contained by that grin of his. For your part you played the appropriately impressed guest.

But deep down you were very impressed. An actual house. Your mother struggled to keep apartments rented. Alastor had a home. With stairs. That went to more home, not a neighbor. What a lovely thing. What did he do with all this space?

He could probably hide quite a few bodies in there.

Alastor opened his bedroom door and motioned for you to enter.

You took in every detail as shrewdly as you could. Two circular nightstands, a wide dresser with a few framed photos and a radio. One large window facing the yard, you could see the car outside from where you were standing. “Wow a man’s bedroom. I tend to avoid these.”

“What a coincidence, so do I. Bedrooms in general, really.” He placed your bag on the dresser, offering to unpack it for you. Your smile screwed up, shaking your head no. You couldn’t imagine Alastor folding your panties and setting them into a drawer.

Well.

“Yes please.” You took a seat on the end of his bed, watching him tenderly empty the bag before beginning to put things away like you’d come home from a trip. “A bed big enough for two people. You didn’t tell me you were a fancy man. Ooh la la.”

Alastor laughed, “Your bed was quite comfortable.” He set your dress onto a hook attached to the closet door, hands running down the fabric to straighten out the wrinkles, “But I have a feeling that had more to do with you than anything else.”

The floor was clean, the rug beneath the bed a simple but pristine white. What an odd color for a rug.

You truly did avoid men’s homes. The power dynamic shifts too much.

“Are all men so clean?”

“Oh god no. Have you really never been to a man’s home?” Without a moment of hesitancy his long fingers flattened out your underthings and neatly folded them. You could call it erotic, knowing what else his fingers could do.

A hum, you swayed side to side, “Too much risk. I don’t know where the knife drawer is, which locks stick, what windows open all the way.”

He set the empty bag into a reading chair in the corner, “That sounds stressful.”

You shrugged, “My mother taught me to always have an escape. From situations, from rooms, from people. Not terrible advice.”

That was true, he thought. If the few women he killed had considered that, he would be less prolific. Women tended to be easier in some regards.

Alastor finally let himself look at you sitting on his bed. Were you wearing the black garters today? He liked those. He appreciated the red dress you’d worn.

Taking off his jacket and vest, he hung them up while his eyes kept returning to you. Your legs were crossed, thighs soft and pressed together. He remembered feeling them against his ears. A little cough to clear his throat and mind.

“Are you hungry?”

You werent, but you weren’t ready for sleep either, so you asked for some bread and butter. Alastor sat beside you at the table, watching you look around. It didn’t look like a killer's home.

“Ya know, I was going to rob you. I had been wanting to talk to you, before that guy caught me off guard when I was smoking.” You said it easily.

He smiled, “Oh, why’d you change your mind?”

“Well, you slit a man’s throat in front of me.”

“Tsk tsk, you give up too easily, my dear.”

Salted butter, soft bread. Simple. Happy. “You were so handsome-,”

“We’re?”

A snort of a laugh, rolling your eyes dramatically, “and you looked well off. I was searching the room for the lights reflecting off of your glasses all night.”

Alastor grimaced, fighting the well of his ego, and leaned on his elbows, “Is it too morbid to say I’m glad that man tried to kill you? I like this timeline more than being robbed and never seeing you again.”

“That’s very selfish. I would have enjoyed chasing you down and finessing your wallet off you.” You set the glass lid back over the butter dish, content with the snack. “Some men come back actually and confront me at the theater.”

He howled. The idea was ridiculous, “Seriously? Why not just tell the cops.”

“Men don’t like telling other men they got taken for a ride by a dame.”

Alastor stood, “What would you have done if you had robbed me and I marched into the theater demanding my cash back.” It took a second to realize he was being serious in wanting you to play along.

You popped the last piece of bread into your mouth and stood too, “You rake!” A fake smack to his chest, “I booted you to the curb! You had more hands than an octopus!”

Alastor tried to stay in character but his smile kept cracking through his serious face. “And my wallet? None of my hands can find it.” You took a few steps back, feigning shock at the accusation.

“Sir! You were so drunk I’m not surprised you lost it.” When Alastor closed the space between you with two wide steps and pulled you into his chest you giggled, hitting softly at him, “You should be ashamed of yourself. Trying to take advantage,” his hands wandered down your hips, making your voice catch in your throat, “of a good woman like me.”

His mouth came to your ear, “Well, miss, I think you owe me the opportunity to try again.”

You went stiff against him, the sudden turn of his voice into seduction taking you by surprise, “If you were a real mark, I’d punch you in the face for saying that.”

“But for me?” Breath against your neck.

Your hands slid up his chest and to his collar, pulling him down and into a kiss. His smile spread across your lips.

His mouth stayed against your cheek as he pulled you into a hug, “Ready for bed?”

“Are you sleepy, hun?” You pulled away, a sincerely worried face. Two nights now you’d interrupted his normal routine.

Alastor’s eyes seemed to sparkle behind his glasses, head shaking, “No, not at all.” You felt the heat rise up your face. Wanting to avoid assumptions, you tried to temper your expectations.

His hand pulled you toward the stairs, you dragging your feet, “Did you want to show me around?”

“In the daylight.” He led you up the stairs and to the right.

“Oh okay….”, your mind was reeling, mouth dry. No dead body in sight. No blood. You hadn’t pressed him or asked for anything. Maybe he just wanted a good cuddle, or some kisses. You often enjoyed necking near the car before he would go home. Right. Let him lead.

You followed him, letting him guide you hand in hand back to his bedroom.

ᡣ𐭩ˋ°•*⁀➷ masterlist

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot , @pseudobun , @fraugwinska✨, @alitaar,@straows , @alastorssimp , @angelicwillows , @b-o-n-e-daddy , @one-and-only-tay , @asleeponelmstreet , @tremendoushearttaco , @mutifandomkid , @sapphirecaelis , @itzzzkiramylove@saccharine-nectarine , @viannasthings , @looking1016 , @ultimate-duck-king-lucifer , @blakeaha , @astraechos , @reath-solia ,

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan

@faeoffaith , @sailorsmouth , @jeannyjaykaydeh , @jyoongim , @cosmic-lavender , @saturn-alone , @lustylita , @radio-darling , @kaylopolis , @dickmastersworld , @leviskittywh0re , @asianfrustration13 @alittletiredcry @sirens-and-moonflowers @alastorssimp , @angelxx7 , @katgirl05 , @impulsivethoughtsat2am , @sugurubabe , @zzzykiek , @phamtasic

#human alastor x reader #alastor x reader #alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel alastor #human alastor #alastor smut #alastor x you

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astarioffsimpmain · 5 months ago

Text

Touch Me with Love

Astarion Ancunin x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Author's Note: Inspired (enabled) by, @just-a-refrigerator, @charlenestrawart, and @thechaoticdruid

Warnings: Smut! Face sitting, cunnilingus (obviously; see: face sitting), penetration, creampie, dirty talk, praise kink, dom Astarion if you squint real hard

He was alone in the field, sitting cross-legged on the grass, staring up at the stars. He did this a lot lately, contemplating some unknown part of his past or future; something he didn’t quite feel ready to share with you yet. You were patient, for the most part, letting him walk into the night with no questions, only a “stay safe” or a “see you soon”. He would always return and curl up behind you in your bedroll, but you always wondered what he did when he slipped away. Tonight, you had followed him here, hurrying to catch up to him with only your slip to cover you after bathing in the river. You suspected he knew you were there - his hearing was unparalleled, being both an elf and a vampire - but if he did, he didn’t acknowledge it. To tamper the risk of feeling as though you were eavesdropping, you quietly walked over to stand beside him, choosing to look up at the same stars his eyes looked towards when he didn’t turn his head to you.

“I won’t try to make you talk about it,” you said quietly after a few moments of silence. “But I want you to know that I’m here for you; and I love you, very much… no matter what it is you aren’t telling me.”

There was no response. You released a slow breath and almost turned to leave, but then you felt his feather-light touch on your calf, his fingers trailing over the prickly skin there. You paused, waiting for him to speak. He didn’t. But his fingers never left your skin, and instead he surged closer, wrapping his arms around your leg. Your eyes fell closed and you released a stuttered breath when his lips pressed gently onto the soft skin behind your knees. Belatedly, you wondered what had gotten into him; his movements felt impatient; desperate, like this was his only chance to touch you like this before the darkness caught up to him. But as his palms flattened against your leg, raising goosebumps in their wake, and his mouth made a warm, wet trail in pursuit, you forgot your curiosity and surrendered to him.

He moaned against you when his mouth reached the crease of your ass cheek, sending jolting vibrations straight up through your spine before settling in a deep ache at your core. You whimpered, shaking in his hold, and he supported you, nipping the flesh of your backside with his sharp canine teeth and nuzzling there, a silent request. “Y-yes, Star. Please-” you stuttered and he wasted no time, placing a tender kiss on the round of your ass before sinking his teeth into the meaty flesh.

You yelped at the pain, but it morphed into a soft moan as his deft fingers found your clit and then took a slow drag through your damp folds. “S-Star, please oh gods, please.” You whined pitifully as he slid his digits forward and back, teasing you while he drank, his other hand clamped on your hip to keep you in place. You desperately wanted to rock against his fingers, eager for more friction, but when you bucked, he pressed his face more firmly into your backside in warning, his fingers retreating and leaving you wanting.

“N-no, Star please I'm sorry, I won't move. I won't move I promise, please touch me,” you pleaded softly, sighing in relief when you felt his lips curl into a smile and his fingers return to your sensitive bud. You could practically hear his cocky expression and his gentle praise in your mind. ‘Good girl.’ You whined.

You shuddered as he pulled his fangs out of your skin and began to lick at the wound. “Mmm,” he sighed against your skin. “On your knees, darling.” You dropped without any further provocation, eager to please him. Fingers trailed up your sides and you gasped at the chill his fingers brought to your body. He hooked your shirt with his thumbs in his ascent and you raised your arms, allowing him to expose you to the night air. You let your arms relax and hummed when you felt his lips press into your neck.

“Very good, my love.” He murmured into your ear and your body responded, shuddering violently. He chuckled, a dark and dangerous sound, and nipped at your skin before raking his nails down your spine.

“Ah!” You arched at the touch, every nerve ending suddenly alive and on fire. Heat pooled in your core and you felt your wetness seep through to the patch of hair lining your folds.

“Stay,” he whispered softly and you nodded, stilling your body and taking a deep breath. You expected to see him round to the front, but he never did, and you began to worry. Had he changed his mind? Was he alright? Did you need to stop?

“Star?” You called softly. “Are you alright?”

“Perfectly so, love.” He murmured from behind you and you let out a breath you didn't realize you had been holding, relaxing back into your stance.

Moments later, you felt the soft tickle of his hair between your legs and you gasped, jumping a little as he maneuvered himself to lay beneath you, his tantalizing lips only breaths from your core. Your eyes snapped to his, widening in surprise as his hands wrapped around your thighs. He met your gaze and his grin widened into a devilish smirk that would send anyone spiraling. “Sit down, darling,” he murmured. You moaned loudly when his hot breath hit your wet folds and you clapped a hand over your mouth, praying none of your companions at camp heard. “No, none of that.” Astarion cooed, reaching up to tug your arm away. “If they hear, perhaps they'll remember who you belong to-” He pressed up into your hairs “-and keep their distance, as they should.” You whined as his lips brushed your sensitive skin and nodded quickly.

“Now, my love,” he murmured. “I believe I said, down.” Growling, he pulled your hips down forcefully and your legs parted around him as you were tugged onto his face. His nose pressed into your clit and you nearly screamed with the force of the pleasure that followed. His tongue parted your folds and he explored you with all the excitement that he had when he supped on your blood. You let a moan into the night air and your lover hummed into your clit in approval. You squirmed at the overwhelming sensation and immediately stuttered a breath when your movement sent another jolt of pleasure coursing up through you.

His fingers dug into the flesh of your hips and urged you to roll onto him. You followed his lead and cried out as his nose rubbed against your bud. “Oh, gods, Star. Please, yes- ah!” With his guidance, you rutted against him, your moans crescendoing as he sucked, licked, and nuzzled, sending you soaring. You pressed your breasts together in an effort to keep them still, tweaking your nipples with your thumbs as you rode your high. You wailed his name as you came, your legs shaking violently as your slick gushed over his lips.

Trembling, you tried to ease off of him as you slowly descended back to reality, your mind in a blissful haze. But he stopped you, holding you in place. Gently, he licked you clean - not a crevice escaped his skillful tongue - and you mewled, your sensitive skin protesting the extra care, despite how appreciated it was. You gazed down at him with a dazed, lovesick smile on your face, and he smiled back at you, his lips glistening with your release. “Ready for more, darling?” He asked softly, running his hands tenderly along your back, then down your thighs.

“Mhmm,” your mouth answered before your brain. But you would never have said no to him anyway. You were fairly certain you would do just about anything as long as it made him happy. He smiled brightly at you and any trepidation about how much more you could take this evening melted away. You were safe in his hands. He would take care of you, and you longed to take care of him in return.

Without warning, he slid his hands to the insides of your thighs and pressed them further apart, far enough for you to feel a burning stretch. “Star, what are you-” You didn't get the chance to finish as his hands found your hips again and slid you down his bare torso. You yelped as your overstimulated core was dragged along the hard planes of your lover's body; down, down, until you were seated just above his throbbing member. You felt it pulse against the curve of your ass and wriggled your backside against it, earning a throaty groan from the elf below you.

“Darling, ungh-” Astarion moaned and gripped your hips tighter, urging you to raise up onto your knees again. “Are you ready to take me, my love?” He murmured, letting the fingers of one hand trail over your stomach and then down to your clit again, where he rubbed a few lazy circles. He smirked triumphantly at the whine you let out in response, obviously pleased at how little it took to rile you up again.

You nodded desperately, needing to feel him filling you up, needing to make him feel the way you were feeling. “Good girl,” he purred and you let out a whimper, bucking your hips back in response.

“M-may I?” You hovered over his twitching length and he groaned at the sight.

“Yes, darling, you may.”

“Ah- thank you. Mmph! Yes,” you sighed, giving him a few pumps and teasing your folds with his pink cock head, so full of your blood. You lowered yourself onto him, biting your lip as he stretched your walls, a deliciously nipping pain mixing with the pleasure of feeling his veins drag inside of you.

You hissed as you worked yourself down onto him, the sheer length of him never failing to surprise you. But you were ever encouraged by the beautiful flush on his cheeks and the tips of his ears; the way his eyebrows were knitted together and his jaw had dropped open ever so slightly, showing off his fangs in the moonlight. “Yes, love- mm,” he murmured, letting his hands roam your body while you grew accustomed to his size. His hands came to rest on your breasts and he squeezed them, your hardened nipples poking out from between his fingers as he kneaded.

You threw your head back and groaned, dropping yourself down on him the rest of the way and earning a clipped moan from him in return. Your eyes lolled to the back of your head. So full; gods, he felt so good inside of you, twitching and throbbing, each pulse making your walls contract around him. Your hands came to rest on his chest and you looked down at him expectantly, waiting to be given your next instruction. His chest rose and fell heavily, the air around you both thick with sweat and exertion, and he grinned at you - a dopey, gleeful thing that had your heart welling in your chest. You couldn’t help but grin back, and giggle as he rested his hands over yours. “My love,” he said, and the way his voice curled around you like a safety net nearly brought tears to your eyes.

“Yes?” you murmured in return, biting back a yelp as he adjusted beneath you.

“Ride me.”

You were nothing if not eager to please, so you followed his order with zeal, rolling your hips into his. You moved slowly at first, squeezing when you moved to let him feel the tightness of your walls around him. He growled, a gasping moan escaping from his lips after a particularly deep thrust. His undoing was your confidence and you began to move faster, clinging to his pecs to keep yourself steady. “This good, Star? Ah, is t-this- oh, Star! Ah!” you howled when he took control, pulling you up by your sides just to slam you back down again.

“Less talking,” he rasped, then met your eyes. “You feel perfect. Gods, you are perfect.” Digging his nails into the flesh of your ass, he took over, and you were happy to let him; content to lay down onto him and capture his lips in a bruising kiss as he snapped your hips down again and again, his cock plunging deep inside of you each time. With each drag, you felt the knot in your core tighten, pulling tighter and tighter as he moaned into your mouth. He was close, too; you felt it in the way his cock shuddered inside of you, curving inwards to hit the spot that had you seeing stars again.

“Mmm, ‘Starion, you feel s-so good- mmph!” he silenced you with his kiss before mumbling against your mouth.

“Gonna cum inside you, alright, love? ‘m gonna- mmf, cum with me- urgh!”

You nodded desperately, your head bobbing as his lips chased yours again. “‘Mkay, Star. Mmm yes- oh! Yes, yes, yes!”

With one last thrust, he seated you fully on his cock and claimed your mouth with his own, sitting up and folding you between his chest and his legs as you both came together, shuddering and whining and crying into each other’s mouths. As you came floating down from your high, you curled your fingers through his thick white hair and nuzzled your nose into his neck, placing tender kisses along the lines of his shoulder as you went. His arms tightened around you, giving you a loving squeeze before he ran them up and down your spine, easing you into a more relaxed state. You felt him soften inside of you, but you weren’t quite ready to be without him just yet, so you made no efforts to move. He didn’t seem to mind; he was too busy dropping kisses on your shoulder in return.

“Was that- was that okay, Star?” you asked meekly, letting your fingernails glide down the nape of his neck. He shivered ever so slightly and pulled you closer, making you both moan from the sensitivity of where you were still joined.

“It was,” he said contemplatively. “I… I really enjoyed that. There were no lingering feelings of disgust or a need to escape. I felt- I feel… safe with you; seen. Thank you.”

He chuckled softly, leaning in to press his lips to yours. “Well you certainly do that; quite beautifully, if I say so myself.” he mumbled against you, and you smiled.

“No need to thank me, my love.” you whispered, pulling back enough to meet his eyes and bump your nose with his. “This is what you deserve. I’m more than happy to love you any way you need me to.”

“I’m glad. Thank you for loving me, too,” you replied, your cheeks warming.

“Darling, I would be a fool not to."

fin

Tagging, Darlings: @knightofmight01 @micropoe10 (if you would like to be on my taglist, send me an ask!)

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x f!tav #astarion x female tav #astarion x f!reader #astarion x female reader #astarion smut #bg3 smut #baldur's gate 3 smut #astarion ancunin smut

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gojo-enthusiast · 9 months ago

Text

Kento Nanami — No Words, Only Moans

mlist<3

18+, MDI, degrading, angry sex, overstimulation—

Your darling husband Kento Nanami was not happy with you today. You had always known he was a rather patient husband, so you naturally got away with little back talk, and snarky remarks. This morning you made your husband late for work, when you decided late at night to rearrange his shoes and clothes, you hadn’t realized you didn’t hang his dress shirt he wore for missions, now his laundry is wrinkled, and on the floor. Gojo now calling Kento asking him where he is at?

All through out the day, you had called him asking him common sense questions, like “what are your thoughts on white bread and wheat bread” but to you, you were seeking attention from your agitated husband, and seeing him getting frustrated by your actions, only fueled for you to piss him off more. Finally after the last call, Kento finally was done with your attitude. “Fuck, quit calling me for the rest of the day. You’re driving me berserk.” He snaps. “Excuse me?” You ask in an agitated tone. “You have been picking on me all day, if you don’t have an emergency do not call me, I am working. Fuck— Itadori-Kun, don’t touch that! Gojo-San, you fucking dumbass!” He shouts, hanging up the phone. At this point you knew, you fucked up. Your ass was grass when he got home, he either was going to scold you, or not talk to you until he cools down.

You paced around the living room, as 5PM hit, meaning your husband was going to be home in 17 minutes. Sitting on the couch, cuddled under a blanket, biting your nails. You see the nob turn, and keys dangling. You hear a light mutter behind the door, and a frustrated grunt. “Fuck fuck fuck.” You think to yourself. You rushed to the bathroom, instantly turning the hot water on for a bath, knowing your husband was going to be angry with you, you were trying to soften up his feelings as much as possible. As you hear the front door slam shut. You begin to start putting some epsom salts and essential oils in the bath, something to calm him down. Your heart is racing, your skin has chill bumps. You lacked much cursed energy, so you lived your life as a normal person, but at this moment, you sensed his presence the closer he got, until he was at the bathroom door, staring at you.

“Hey Ken— I drew you a bath.” You lightly said, watching him loosen his tie, you could see his blue shirt was still wrinkled, and he looked disheveled. “Let me take your clothes and I’ll wash and iron them.” You add lightly. Your husband has YET to say a word. You walk over to him, grabbing the tie that was bundled in his hands, and begin to unbutton his shirt, wanting to take full care of your Kento. You felt his head droop down, his mouth next to your ear.

“Listen to me carefully.” He says in a seductive growl. “You’re not allowed to speak, until I say you’re allowed the speak.” He says, making your heart race even faster, “take off your clothes and bend over the counter… now.” He growls. You look up to say something, but you knew if you did so, you might be the next thing he exercises. You look up at him, with your innocent doe eyes, pleading with him to be easy on you. But you saw clear in his eyes, tonight is about him, and him only, he will use you till his hearts content. “Now.” He says louder. You nod lightly, pulling your nightgown off, only left in your silk panties, that you hadn’t even realized you soaked in your arousal. “Wtf is wrong with me?” You think to yourself.

You bend over the counter, hearing your husband turn off the tub, and then come up behind you, his clothed manhood pressed against you, as he gently rubs the fat of your ass, before he lands a hard slap on it. Making your legs shake, and a yelp coming out of your lips. “HUSH!” He shouts. You close your mouth, feeling your arousal slip out of you. “Look at you, soaked. Is this what you wanted, you act like a fucking brat all day, for me to fuck you?” He hisses, he was beyond furious, you could feel the heat coming off his body. He peeled your underwear off, dropping it at your ankles. A moment later, you feel him push a silicone item inside your hole, your walls hugging it so perfectly. “Ah—“ you moan. Then another slap on your ass. You covered your mouth. “Fuck, Do you not fucking listen?” He asks. You nodded, and then stifled the moan that almost escaped your mouth when you felt the machine turn on. “Stand there, and take it. I’m gonna take a bath.” Kento smirks to himself. “Don’t you fucking dare move or talk. I only give you permission to moan.”

Kento watched you as he sat in the bath, relaxing after a long day. He watched you as the vibrator which he controlled on a remote, made you cum over and over and over. It had been the 5th time now, you were crying in pleasure, you couldn’t speak, but your moans were confirming to him, that you were wanting to be fucked merciless. Your hearing had gone in and out, but you heard your husband step out of the bath and walk up to you. He pulled the device out of you, and quickly replaced it with his cock. Instantly slamming into you. “You little slut, you like it when I fuck you like this? You’re gonna fuckin take it.” He grunts, his hips were like a stallion, he slammed them forcefully and fucked you stupid. You felt him pick you up, showcasing yourself to the mirror. “Watch how I fuck your slutty cunt. Watch how I fix that brattiness.” He grunts in your ear, you sat there and watch your husband fuck up into you roughly, “Ken-“ you groan, feeling so overstimulated. “SHUT UP!” he shouts, biting your shoulder. You yelped out from the bite, feeling your stomach tingle, “shut up shut up shut up!” He chanted, he didn’t want to hear you, he wanted to hear nothing come out of your mouth. “I only want to hear your pussy, she listens, unlike you.” He growls, slamming faster, placing his hand on your clit, rubbing quickly. He loved the way you would clamp down on him as you were approaching an orgasm.

You blacked out after squirting all over the mirror, you woke up 10 minutes later, to you lied on your stomach, and your back arched. Kento was slamming into you still. His cock was throbbing, he had busted already, yet he needed more. “Fuck!! You make me so fucking angry. You never fucking listen.” He says as he thrust. “Kenny, I’m sorry baby. Please slow down.” You moan, feeling your walls and stomach tighten again. “I can’t hear anything, I can’t hear anything you’re saying.” He grunted, he was so entranced and addicted to your pussy that nothing you could do, could calm him the fuck down. “Please, ah- Kenny.” You whimpered, you moaned so deliciously, making his cock twitch inside of you. “Fuck, I could fuck you forever. I don’t want to hear— hear your words, I just want to hear you cry for more.” Kento groaned, his cock was so sensitive, yet he couldn’t stop. “Ken, feels so so good. I’ll be so so good now, I just-just missed you so so much.” You moan out. “I wont ever leave you.” He moaned into your ear, as his thrust began to get sloppy, and his head next to yours. You felt him pull out, flipping you over, inserting himself back into you sopping sensitive cunt. He thrust quickly, while her hand found your clit and rubbed it quickly. “Cum, now.” He grunted, as his cock twitched and started shooting out inside of you. “Ah yes yes yes!” You chanted, cumming and squirting all over his cock. “Kento, please slow down.” You moaned, feeling your legs spasm. You simply couldn’t take it anymore. “Water, I need water.” You groan. Your husband’s vision, finally clearing and his head less foggy. “Hmm?” He hummed as he slid out, and lied beside you, slipping off the bed to grab water. You stared at his figure, as his cock began to finally soften, and he looked thoroughly satisfied. He handed you a bottle water, and you downed it like you were dehydrated. “I’m sorry kento.” You pout. He kissed your forehead, and whispered. “I’m not done with you yet. You better get your breather in, you messed with me for 8 hours, we have 5 more hours to go.” He said, as you watched his cock swole back up. The only thought in your head— “oh fuck, I really fucked up.”

#anime fanfic #fanfiction #nanami kento x y/n #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x reader #kento nanami smut #nanami kento smut #nanami kento #nanami smut #kento smut #jjk kento #kento x reader #kento x y/n #jujutsu nanami

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feyascorner · 10 months ago

Text

9 | The Fangs Between Us

summary. Rather than taking offense, he merely smiles. “You’re so harsh, love.”

“I wouldn’t be harsh if you didn’t deserve it.”

“I’m aware.” His voice lowers. “Though I rather like it when you’re cruel to me.”

You blink.

Has he always looked at you like this?

warnings. angst, comfort, slow burn, tav reader is a bard, italics are flashbacks

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

parts. TFBU masterlist

a/n. officially in act 2 so there's like a few weeks of a timeskip!!!! finally getting to that blurry line between hatred and...wtv they are

also praying the tags work this time

“Wake up,” you whisper. “Wake up, Astarion.”

His body shakes as you pull him closer to your chest, ignoring how cold his skin feels against yours. There’s nothing out here except the two of you and the blissful gaze of the moon glimmering against all the other stars in the sky. Here, it’s as if nothing else exists.

Yet, the nightmares continue to haunt him.

“Cazador, he’ll come for us. He’ll come for you. He’ll make me watch as you die and laugh at my agony before he tosses me into that damned prison again for another year. Maybe even more,” he rasps. “Gods, you were so–there was so much blood—your blood—and all I could smell was–”

You shush him, running your hand through white curls. The sensation seems to calm him just the slightest. “He’s not here. I’m alive, and so are you. See?”

Gently, you raise his palm to where your heart rests and wait patiently for him to come back to you again. He melts into the steady thumping of your heart, shoulders slowly relaxing. It takes some time, but eventually, his panting slows, and he slumps into your touch. When you pull him close again, he shakes his head.

“I’ll kill him for what he’s done to me and what he could do to you.”

You answer him by intertwining your fingers with his own. In response, he tightens his arms around your waist.

“I’m going to love watching him scream.”

Crashing onto the ground does little for your already trembling knees.

“Again.”

Weeks have passed since your last uncomfortable encounter with Astarion, and you’d much prefer to keep it that way. And while things have mostly smoothed over with your companions, the obvious issue of the spawn remains a concern, though the murders have decreased significantly in passing times. You’re grateful there aren’t as many bodies, but it also makes you wonder what’s preventing them from killing as many as they did. Fear it, even.

Lae’zel’s wooden sword wipes you off your feet again, and you land face-first into the grass. Embarrassment floods your cheeks despite there being nobody else in the park.

“You’ve gotten rusty, istik.”

Clambering onto your knees, you grip your own sword to stabilize yourself. “Are you sure you’re not the one who’s gotten significantly better?”

“Flattery won’t save you on a battlefield, bard.”

“‘Was-bard,’” you correct her, using the sword to bounce back onto your heels. “And I think it’s saved us more than a few times. Remember that time I persuaded Yurgir to kill all his friends before we killed him?”

“A silver tongue has no use if the enemy is deaf,” she lunges at you, and you barely manage to stumble out of the way.

You hiss. “Why the hell would I be fighting a deaf enemy? And can you please warn me before you try to stab me?”

“There are no warnings in a real battle.”

“We’re not in real battle!”

She ignores you and lunges once more without warning.

You land on your ass again and again until you’re sure there’s a nasty bruise on half of your legs. There’s not enough time to register the soreness spreading to your knees, however, because by the time you’re up, she’s already coming at you again. It’s hopeless, you think, blocking another attack. Just as you’re about to give up and admit defeat, you see an opportunity in her stance. Seemingly laid back with how miserably you’re failing, you take it as a weakness and practically pounce at the opportunity to launch at her in return for your own bruises.

By some miracle, it lands.

She doesn’t fall as pathetically as you did, but she stumbles.

“Have you lost your touch, Lae’zel?”

You whip your head around to the voice where Shadowheart is under the shade of a tree, a letter gripped in her fingers. She paces closer to you and your opponent, raising a brow at the state you’re in. “Was it really necessary to beat them so harshly?”

“It worked, didn’t it? They managed to hit me,” Lae’zel scoffs, a hint of pride in her tone.

“Well, as wonderful of a time it is to watch you fight one another like beasts,” Shadowheart rolls her eyes, lifting the letter. “Tav and I need to get new clothes tailored, it seems.”

Lae’zel snatches the letter before you can take a look, her eyes scanning over the words before shooting to you. “A celebration?”

“A ball, more like,” the cleric steals the sheet right back, handing it to you. “In our honor, of course, for defeating the elder brain. About time we received something in return.”

You only briefly glance at the words printed on the letter. “This is too much.”

Both heads turn to you inquisitively. “I thought you’d be ecstatic for something like this. I recall you always used to sing about the songs people would make about your adventures.”

“That was ages ago,” you sigh, but Lae’zel doesn’t seem much happier either.

“They choose to celebrate while the city’s citizens are being picked off like prey by spawn? No wonder its inhabitants have turned out so puny,” she glances at you while she speaks. You contemplate rolling your eyes, though you’d rather not get knocked on your ass again.

“You and Gale can go tomorrow. I made reservations at the tailor for all of us, but Figaro says he can only take two a day,” Shadowheart tells Lae’zel. “You wouldn’t mind if I took your punching bag for a few hours, would you?”

“Tchk. I have the wizard as another target if need be.”

She tosses her braid over her shoulder as she nods. “Great. Let’s hurry then.”

They don’t give you much room to protest in the matter, already having made up their minds—not that you were going to object in the first place. You’re honored, really, that the city finds you impressive enough to throw a celebration in your honor, and you know your companions are more than deserving of it, too. But it’s as Lae’zel said.

There’s another battle brewing under the city, in its shadows, and in plain sight, yet you can’t do anything about it. It’s not like the elder brain. Killing the brain itself was enough to rid of the mind flayers, but in this case, killing one spawn only leads to hunting 7000 more. Most of which are being lied to by Astarion’s siblings.

You shake your head to rid of the thoughts. No. You deserve this. You went through hell and back with that bloody parasite in your head, so hells be damned if you can have one bloody night to yourself. One that doesn’t consist of consistently worrying about whether another body will drop dead while you sleep blissfully in the walls of your own home. You need this after all you’ve been through.

Still…

The silence as you walk alongside Shadowheart makes you cringe.

It’s not like she’s angry at you, nor are you at her. You understand her reactions toward Astarion, and you like to think that she does too. But with how things ended with him last time, your interactions with the cleric have grown increasingly curt, with short conversations baring down to the bare necessities. You’ve tried to speak with her, but each time the two of you are alone, the guilt gnaws away at your stomach—your confidence along with it.

This time, you swear. This time you’ll apologize.

“Shadowhea-”

“I shouldn’t have done it.”

You blink. Twice.

She doesn’t look at you, continuing to stride through the city streets. “It was unfair of me to blow up at you for letting Astarion feed. It wasn’t my choice, and I know that. I was only…”

You wait for her to continue, increasing the speed of your footsteps to catch up.

“...It was a selfish reason,” she mutters. “I did not want to lose you to him again. I’ve seen you the last time he hurt you, and you were practically a stranger to all of us. Even with defeating the elder brain, you didn’t seem happy in the slightest. He ruined so much that I—-I instinctively tried to make a decision that I have no control over.”

“It won’t happen again. Lying, I mean,” you blurt immediately. “I’ve learned, as hard as it might be to believe. I don’t want to drift from you again, either. I’m just sorry it took so long to bring this up.”

“I’m in no place to complain. It took weeks for me to understand how in the hells your thought process seems to work…And how you manage to make such bad decisions that somehow have a knack for working out,” she purses her lips. “I still don’t understand. Not completely. But I do also trust you know what you’re doing.”

You don’t know what you’re doing, but you think it’s better to avoid telling her that.

She smiles, and you already feel lighter. “It’s a miracle I’m alive, to be honest.”

“It really is. Trust me, I’d know,” she snorts in return.

“I do have quite the skilled healer at my side, which helps.”

Shadowheart stops in front of Figaro’s store, glancing back at you. You hadn’t even realized the two of you had walked this far, but she shrugs with a smug grin as she pushes through the door.

“Whatever would you do without me?”

You’ve searched the Blushing Mermaid at least a dozen times over now, in case you missed any of Dalyria’s things that might aid you in your search for the other siblings. Despite the tavern owners blocking the entrance, a simple mage hand or two was enough to pry open the wooden boards nailed to the basement door. It’s been nearly three times now that you’ve come up empty-handed, but what harm could a fourth try do? Sure, you’ve scrummaged her desk seven times alone, but perhaps you might have missed a drawer or two…

The stillness of the night is disturbed as you lift the hatch leading to the basement, waving away the dust that flies into your face. You pocket Dalyria’s journal and begin your descent downward. The humidity hits your cheeks, and you sigh, swallowing your distaste for the crumbling lair to resume your investigation without any distractions. You expect another endless night of useless rummaging through the Hag’s old things and some of Dalyria’s own belongings, but doing nothing would weigh too heavily on your conscious.

Just as you enter the actual lair, you find that you are not alone.

A blond man stands on the other side, his back turned to you as he searches the desk you’ve already looked over multiple times.

Petras.

Sure, you’ve been searching for him for quite a while now, but for him to just waltz into you like this? You’re not sure if you’re insanely lucky or simply unlucky for not having stumbled into him until now. He remains unaware of your presence, and you take the opportunity to reach for your knife, willing your footsteps to feel lighter to avoid detection. Another skill a certain rogue taught you at a certain point, but never mind that.

The floorboard creaks under your weight.

Dammit. You’ve never been as good as he was.

He whips around, immediately on the defense. But as soon as he spots you, his shoulder relaxes, a scowl falling as he blinks. “Oh. You.”

Embarrassment burns in your cheeks, feeling like a child who’s been caught stealing an extra sweet from the cookie jar. Still, you straighten your back, shifting so he can’t see the knife clenched in your hand. “What are you doing here?”

“I was wondering when I’d see Astarion’s pet again,” he ignores your question, stepping away from the desk toward you. It makes your body tense. “You’ve been up to quite a lot since the last time we spoke, haven’t you? I hear you nearly captured my sister.”

“I’m not his pet,” you snap, more harshly than you intended. He raises a brow.

“Fine. His blood bank.”

Your sharp glare is enough to send him your sentiments.

“Not a very willing blood bank, I see.”

“What are you doing here, Petras?” you finally snap.

He ignores you again, and this time, you contemplate chucking the knife at his head. “How’s my brother doing? Horrible, I hope.”

“He’s fine,” you retort through gritted teeth. It’s the nicest thing you can conjure up at the moment. “We would be doing better if you weren’t making a bloodbath of the city.”

“You nearly killed my sister as well.”

“Your sister is the one that attacked us after she said she was going to kidnap Astarion like he’s some sort of object. What was I supposed to do?”

“Well, I can’t blame you. She’s always been stubborn,” he shrugs. “But I am disappointed you chose to take my brother’s side after all he’s done to you. I would pity you, really, if you hadn’t gone and killed almost four of us already.”

“You can’t blame me for self-defense.”

Petras frowns. “Tell me, why didn’t you take our deal?”

“What?”

He paces a few steps toward you, standing at the platform of the lair while you stare up at him in bewilderment. “We’ve been watching you for an extended period of time now. We offered you everything you could possibly gain from a deal like this one, and you still rejected it. You’d get rid of us and keep the city safe. All the while, you’d never have to see my brother again. Dalyria says it barely seemed to phase you. I want to know why.”

“It’s—” you trip over your own tongue. You don’t even know why you feel obligated to answer him. “It just felt right at the time.”

“What kind of half-baked answer is that?”

“I answered your question, didn't I? Now answer mine.”

Petras furrows his brows, glancing at Dalyria’s desk behind him. “I take it you know what we plan to do?”

You purse your lips, and it’s enough of an answer for him.

“I wanted to take Astarion by force, personally. But Leon and Dalyria…they’ve grown considerably soft after Cazador left,” he rolls his eyes at the thought, crossing his arms. “...A shame. That kind of fragility won’t get them anywhere in this world. Those fools are destined to die or to live at the bottom of the barrel, forever feeding on city rats.”

The way he speaks of his siblings makes your stomach churn.

“You’re a bigger fool if you think I’m going to let you go through with the ascension,” you hiss. “You’ll kill all those spawns. They’ve put their trust in you to lead them, and you’re lying straight to their faces as if their lives aren’t worth the crap on your shoes–”

“And how did things turn out the last time you tried to stop the ascension?”

This makes your throat go dry.

“Take this as our last warning, bard. Or else we’ll come and take him ourselves.”

“He’s your brother,” you blurt in exasperation, waving your hand in disbelief. “You can’t possibly want to kill him, even if he’s an asshole from time to time! Cazador is gone. You’re free! There’s nothing else to run away from!”

You don’t know why you’re defending him.

But it pours out of your chest, and you already know trying to choke it back up won’t reverse what’s already been said.

With your words seemingly going in one ear and out the other, Petras clenches his fist at his side and glowers down at you with a sharp inhale. Despite his attempts to appear composed, you can see the vein bulging from his forehead, threatening to burst if you push him any longer. “He stopped being my brother the second he tried to ascend.”

“Still—”

“He attempted to kill the rest of us for the sake of his own wellbeing. What makes him any different than Cazador himself?” he argues. “Cazador always took a special interest in Astarion. I see now that it’s because they’re so similar. In life or in death.”

For some strange reason, this makes your blood burn.

You can hear Astarion’s gasps as his master’s nightmarish toll awoke you both on those starry nights when the parasite still swam in your heads. How cold he’d felt in your arms, rasping into your chest as you calmed him. White curls brushed against your hand as you pulled him close. You’ve never wished to the gods for much, but in that moment, you begged them to let him forget. To give you something—anything—to soothe the trembling of his hands.

Astarion could have been like Cazador. He’d come dangerously close to becoming the very monster that tortured him for centuries, but he hadn’t. Whether it was voluntary or not, it doesn’t matter because, at the end of the day, he isn’t Cazador. And you plan to keep it that way as long as your fingers can still clutch your blade.

“I was planning on paying you a visit,” Petras says, catching your attention once more as he slips out a scroll from his sleeve. “Though I suppose you’ve made this easier on the both of us…especially if you die here.”

You take a step toward him, heels digging into the ground. “If you think I’ll just—”

“If you’ll only get in my way, then I have no problem with watching you perish.”

With a shout, the scroll glows a lime green, and a long groan echoes from the bodies scattered throughout the room.

Shit.

The spawn adjusts his hood back around his head, sparing you a pitiful stare. “You’ve chosen your side, and it's the one that's destined to lose. Good luck, bard…I hope your death isn’t as painful as it could have been at Astarion’s hands.”

And just as the undead begins to crawl toward you with an agonizing screech, he puffs up into a cloud of red smoke and vanishes.

You need a bath. Terribly.

Barely scraping out with your life, you can’t say you’re a pleasing person to look at with the dirt and blood smeared across your body. The sleeve of your shirt is torn open, and while a few healing potions have done the trick to heal most of your injuries, the more minor splits and cuts remain an insistent reminder of the war you’ve just declared with the vampire spawns.

Well, they’re the ones who declared it, but the point stands.

You manage to wash out a lot of the blood by the time you return home, praying your disheveled state can’t be seen with the effort you’ve put in to look presentable. Your worries are put to rest, however, when you realize just how late it’s gotten into the night, as all your companions remain blissfully asleep as you limp into the house, barely able to stand upright.

Everything is a blur. How you managed to fight off a dozen undead is a mystery to you, but it’s not unwelcome. At least there’s nobody here to scold you.

But even that, you realize, is a false sense of security when you sense him from the stairs. You’ve learned not to anticipate any creak in the floorboard when he’s the one pacing on them. Rather, you’ve learned to expect a concerning bloodthirsty presence and two eyes boring into the back of your head as if you’ve grown another head. It eventually becomes easy to sense his aura even from across the living room.

You hope the darkness conceals the bruises on your body. “What do you want?”

“You’re bleeding again,” he says, and it’s not a question. “I could smell it from upstairs.”

A scoff. “What are you? A dog?”

Astarion doesn’t bother responding to your snide comment, coming closer. You can finally see his expression in a daze as he approaches your vicinity. He’s present, but not really, as his focus shifts from you to your hand to your face again repeatedly as if he’s unsure what he’s even doing here.

You’d recognize his mannerisms anywhere.

“Are you drunk?”

“I recall you saying you were visiting the tavern.”

“I was at the tavern.”

He barks a laugh. “My dear, you can tell as many pretty lies to the others but not to me. I can see right through your little game like an open book.”

Curse him.

“I asked you a question first,” you opt to change the subject, remaining firm. “How much did you drink?”

“I didn’t break any rules, as far as I’m aware,” his words slur messily as he leans against the wall, a pink hue spread across his cheeks. “I just drank…a tiny bit more than usual.”

He’s most undoubtedly tipsy, at the very least.

Astarion pushes himself off the wall and toward you, where he squints down at you with what you assume to be some variation of curiosity. His eyes do not hold the usual hostility they usually do, somewhat clouded in a mist of relaxation that’s dangerously close to overflowing. You inch backward.

“Your turn,” he breathes. “Why are you bleeding?”

While you were out risking your life, the bastard must’ve been having the time of his life if the unsteadiness of his steps is any indication. You bite the inside of your cheek bitterly.

“I met Petras just now…more like ambushed, actually,” you respond, pacing the kitchen to wipe off the dirt staining your elbows. You pour yourself a glass of water, but the second it touches your lips, you flinch, the split on your lip still too new to be challenged. So, instead, you set the glass down, eyeing the way he mindlessly stares at you without a thought running through his mind.

Still, he’s giddier than usual, snorting at the state you’re in. “You couldn’t have possibly lost to my brother. He has muscle but barely any wit.”

You remain silent, and his smile grows wider. “Oh! You really let the bastard get away. Well, isn’t this a surprise! Excuse my error; perhaps you aren’t as invincible as I pegged you to be.”

“He caught me off guard.” Hot discomfort courses through your veins.

“Pish posh,” he waves you off, teetering in your direction. “It’s no good if you refuse to admit defeat, my dear. It’ll come back to bite you in the behind later.”

You watch with half-lidded eyes, unmoving from your spot beside the counter as he scrummages around the cabinets for nothing other than the very substance that’s reduced him to this pitiful state. Ironic, you know, considering the tavern had practically been your home only a few months prior. “How did you even get drunk? There isn’t nearly enough blood here for that.”

His face brightens when he finds what he’s been searching for. He uncorks the glass bottle and inhales the stench of blood. While it makes you scrunch your nose, he sighs dreamily, shoulder going slack. “Gale accompanied my hunt again, and I managed to find not one but two bloody bears. One of which was oh so gratefully already wounded. You can be smart when you want to be; I’m sure you can imagine the rest.”

You don’t want to imagine it, actually.

“I think you’ve had enough,” you pluck the bottle from his hands, and his expression immediately falls. He almost looks like a kicked puppy. It makes your chest swell with pride.

“Why? Would you rather I drink from you?” he tries to reach for it, but you step out of the way. “As enticing as that sounds, I’ve already had my fill of exotic blood for tonight. All I need is the dessert to top off the feast I’ve had, and I’ll be satiated for at least a few days.”

You glare at him. “You’re already drunk, you don’t need anymore.”

“But I want more,” he slurs again, and you attempt to move the bottle behind your back, but his hand is already expecting this maneuver. With embarrassing ease, the bottle slips into his grasp, and he takes a long sip of blood while forgetting how you remain caged against the counter, arms blocking any sort of exit you can take to slip away.

You can count his eyelashes from this distance.

He lifts his hand to wipe at his mouth, and much to your relief, you manage to escape the suffocating feeling of being surrounded by him. His scent, his voice, just everything. You close your fists, itching to retreat into the comforts of your own bedroom rather than continue to watch his focus zone in and out until narrowing down on you. “Are you done?”

“Mm, it’s sweet, but not sweet enough. It’s not quite a dessert, I’m afraid.”

“You don’t even like sweet things,” you scoff. You don’t know why you remember this. You shouldn’t remember this. It’s not even your concern anymore.

He stares at you. “I make exceptions.”

Unwillingly to figure out the implications of his words (and whether or not it comes off as a threat), you run a hand through your hair and sigh. “Petras seems hell-bent on kidnapping you.”

“Let him try. The poor fool wouldn’t stand a chance against any of us, much less all of us simultaneously. At least it’ll make for quite a show.”

“And let him kill more people in the process?”

Astarion tilts his head, albeit only slightly. He lacks the usual polish of his charm. “Ah, we couldn’t dare allow a few unlucky souls to perish. It’s not like the inevitable fate of death is waiting for them anyway.”

Sarcasm dripping from his tongue, you decide he’s not nearly sober enough to talk about this. He’s barely keeping himself upright with his arms perched on either side of the counter. He’s close enough that the scent of blood muddles all of your other senses. The softness in his eyes makes you squirm, and the small voice in your head that is your intuition screams for you to get away before…well, you’re not sure what, but it’s what it’s telling you.

“Go to bed,” you order him, though it sounds more like a plea. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

“The night’s only begun, though.”

The answer spews out immediately. “I miss to see where that’s my problem.”

Rather than taking offense, he merely smiles. “You’re so harsh to me, love.”

You open your mouth to respond, but the nickname catches you off guard. It’s one he hasn’t called you since…everything. One that you’ve learned to bury into whatever corner you can find in your memories, hoping never to see them again. For a split moment, you can feel your resolve falter. Still, you refuse to show him what a simple word does to you and steel your will to leave this for a proper time when you’re both not nearly delirious. One from blood and the other from a battle.

“I wouldn’t be harsh if you didn’t deserve it.”

“I’m aware.” His voice lowers. “Though I rather like it when you’re cruel to me.”

You blink.

Has he always looked at you like this?

He’s not just drunk, you reason. He’s completely wasted.

“Astarion,” you lean away. “You’re drunk.”

He ignores your warnings with a click of his tongue. “My mind is clearer than it's ever been after I got that damn parasite out of my head.”

His delirious expression says otherwise.

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you sigh irritably. “Whatever game you’re playing, I want none of it. I’m tired, so just leave me be, will you? Get out of my way.”

“I could say the same to you.”

“You’re the one blocking me from leaving!” you fume, pointing at his arm.

“That’s not what I mean. You’re…” he sighs, dropping his head wearily. “…you’re no different than that parasite, come to think of it.”

Appalled, you just gawk at him, jaw agape. “Please tell me I did not just hear you say that.”

He laughs, throwing his head back as he straightens his back. His arms fall back to his side, providing you just enough space to squeeze out of the way, but you find yourself staring up at him as he recollects himself. “It’s rather frustrating. I suppose, at the very least, unlike that worm, you’re a pretty thing to look at.”

What in the hells is going on?

First, he calls you a parasite and then proceeds to flatter you barely two seconds later, having nothing but hazy blurs in that thick skull of his. You wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to kill you again next. In fact, you think it’s probably best to retreat now when you can—even if he’s gazing down at you as if he expects an answer to his previous statement.

You should leave.

Your legs remain rooted in place.

You should definitely leave.

“Call me that again, and I’ll install bars on your windows,” you grumble, only half meaning it. Mainly because it would be a hassle to build. “Just go, Astarion. I don’t want to speak with you.”

“Convince me.”

You quirk a brow. “What?”

“Convince me that you don’t want me here,” he says firmly. “Then I’ll leave.”

Gods, has he lost it?

“Are you serious?”

“Am I ever not? I may deceive you, but I always take you seriously. You must know this.”

Barely stopping yourself from punching that smug smile off his face, your brows furrow. And with gritted teeth, you hiss. “Well, for one, you stink of blood.”

“What a pleasant fragrance indeed.”

“Two,” you continue. “You’re barely standing on both feet, which tells me you aren’t in any position to discuss what I want to right now—which, by the way, is your own damn brother.”

He hums.

“Three, you’re an asshole.”

“Very convincing, darling.”

“So I’ve heard,” you snap, rolling your eyes. “Do I need to say more?”

Astarion steps closer, making your shoulders tense. “Tell me more about how I’m an asshole.”

The blood he drank must contain some sort of drug, surely.

“You leave bottles all over the living room,” you begin, and slowly, the words begin to spill out as if they’ve been waiting to be thrown at him for a while now. “You don’t help clean at all. You make jokes only you find funny. You fight with Shadowheart all the time, and it makes everyone uncomfortable. You walk around at three in the morning and scare the crap out of me just because I wanted some water.”

He nods. “Go on.”

“You’re always sneaking out, even though we tell you not to. You don’t even tell us where you’re going and then get surprised when Lae’zel wants to execute you again! You come home at bizarre times, and the hallway smells like blood all the time, and—and—-” You’re rambling now, you realize, but you’re too exhausted to give a rat’s ass about it. So instead, you push a finger into his chest pointedly, scowling. “---you’re just not pleasant to be around. You’re the biggest asshole I’ve met, and trust me when I’ve met a lot of assholes. I’d rather all of them than you.”

Astarion’s lashes flutter as his gaze flits across your face. “Is that so?”

With narrowed eyes, your fists tighten. “Hells, I don’t even know why I’m here with you because I should’ve been at the tavern sleeping with some other random bastard by now if your damn brother didn’t-”

Suddenly, the breath in your lungs is knocked out as the back of your hips bumps against the counter, knocking over your glass of water.

Before you can discern whatever emotions are being evoked by his lack of awareness, the already minimal distance between the two of you closes as he smashes his lips against yours. It’s harsh. Fueled by hatred, it’s by no means a pleasant show of affection. It burns, sending sparks throughout your entire body as you sink into his touch, feeling the full force of the smallest of movements; he seems dangerously close to what you might describe as desperate.

Unable to fully process what’s happening, you only stand there, stock still.

Your eyes might fall out of its sockets with how wide they are.

He’s kissing you.

Astarion is kissing you.

And instinctively, your body, if for a split moment, kisses back.

What. The. Fuck.

Thankfully, you’re quick to realize what’s happening, and you abruptly shove him away, stumbling in the process. It seems he’s sobered up on his end because he appears just as shocked as you are, the blood staining his pretty lips being the only proof that the kiss did indeed happen. He blinks rapidly, first trying to take in your expression. You don’t think you’ve seen him this lost in ages. But that's not your concern right now.

He starts. “Darling, I–”

Your fist punches into his stomach, and he reels.

Tags: @ayselluna @littleenglishfangirl @bg3obsessedsideblog @iwillpissyourpants @cyberpr1m3 @snowlotr @road-riot @spacekidnova @madislayyy @lordfishflakes @nicalysm @djarinsway @tinystarfishgalaxy @brainz00 @hopeful-n-sad @ohdeerieme @madisban @chrismarium @chonkercatto @fanfic-share @bitterbeanren @sleepyred1703 @miskouly @ravenswritingroom @iamlowkeycrying @deezus-roy @spiritraves @mariposakitten @dinobae-replyacc @whisperingwillowxox @bdudette @misscrissfemmefatale @atropapurpurea @cosywinterevenings @phoenixgurl030 @generalstephkenobi @shadowsmusical @himesuedi @girlygmer-blog @vulgarfuckinvirgo77 @hyperfixationwhore @teardropcup @marina-and-the-memes @kiwi-mansanas @woosaaghh @cminr @everybodystaycalm @divineknightmare @bangtanbecks @carolinelec @aelieknox @bluelovesleep @catching-fire-in-the-wind @moonlight-stay @thatbeanieboss @atotalmess-lol @lavender-romancer

#astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate astarion #astarion x tav #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #astarion #bg3 x reader #feyascorner #bg3 #astarion x oc #astarion x you #astarion fanfic #bg3 companions

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jazzyoranges · 1 year ago

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i love you write! can i req where shapeshifter reader's Super high after hanging out with stoners and shift to grizzly bear and can't shift back to human form enid report to wednesday, also reader just talk random shet that all wednesday hear was bear grumbling and whining?, tq 3<

New heights

Wednesday Addams x fem!shapeshifter!reader

Words: 1.1k

Warnings: implied drug use, you’re kinda a dumbass lol, my attempt at humor

A/n: writers block is kicking my ass whoops… also happy new years!

uehdhd nsedd uew gdhjs ppppspsodod hsdf

“Wednesday, can you decipher this?” Enid gets up from her bed to show her roommate the text she just got from you, which seemed to be just a bunch of random letters

“What makes you think I’m going to understand better than you.” Wednesday raises an eyebrow at Enid from where she’s sitting at her desk

“I dunno, she’s your girlfriend? Girlfriend telepathy or something”

“I recall her telling me she was, to put it bluntly, getting high with friends tonight.”

“And you didn’t think to lead with that! Do you know where she is?”

“Knowing her, the forest.”

“And you let her!?” Enid exclaims, a hand racking through her hair

“(Y/n)’s the scariest thing in there. Worst comes to worst she comes out with a few scratches.” The blonde is about to respond when her phone pings with another few messages from you

hey uh tell wednesday to come pick up her girlfriend (10:27)

i think (Y/n)’s lost it (10:27)

i’m her friend btw (10:27)

FUCK PLEASE HURRY SHE’S NOT MENTALLY STABLE ANYMSO (10:28)

“Alright put on your big girl pants, we’re getting your girlfriend” Enid’s phone rings with an incoming facetime from you, and she scrambles to click join. What she doesn’t expect is the face of one of your friends, looking a little more than worried

“Oh, thank god! I’m sorry for bad first impressions, but-“ A whine is heard in the background your friend turns to the noise

“Chill out dude, your girlfriend is right here!” He turns back to Enid

“Please put Wednesday on, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a bear cry before” Wednesday perks up at her name and swiftly takes the phone from Enid. Your friend turns around the phone so now the two roommates are looking at a grizzly bear that stands on its hind legs, whining and maybe even sobbing

“(Y/n).” Wednesday says, and you snap your head towards the phone held in front of you

Now aware of your girlfriends face in front of you, you get back down onto all fours and boop the screen with your nose

“Wednesday, I missed you! Y’know I was just out here, getting high with my friends as one does, and then all of a sudden I was really sad! Then I started thinking really hard why that might be and I realized it was because you weren’t here! You know how I ugly cry, right? Well I started doing that but for some reason my friends didn’t really understand what I was saying, but I know you’d understand! So that’s why we’re here. Also, I think I might’ve had a growth spurt. I feel really tall and big right now”

Just by the shaking of your phone on the other end of the call, Enid knows her feelings of confusion and maybe fear are shared when you start to grumble and whine. Only you would be able to ramble as a fucking grizzly bear

“C-Connection’s bad, please say something!” Your friend squeaks behind the phone, and Wednesday resists the urge to roll her eyes. It was you, after all. No reason to be scared

“Enid, make sure she doesn’t freak out. I’ll go pick her up.” Wednesday sighs, grabbing her jacket and giving Enid her phone back. She hears you whine even more when you can’t see Wednesday in frame anymore

“(Y/n), can you…” Is the last thing Wednesday hears before leaving the dorm. For an academy that had a curfew, they were astonishingly bad at keeping it upheld. A turn here, climb up that wall, don’t touch that grass near the academy, and boom you’re in the forest before Enid can post something on her blog about Xavier and Bianca’s relationship

You weren’t very difficult to find. The wailing of a bear basically echoed in the forest and claw marks on trees made a clear path to the place you and your friends were getting high at. Well, were getting high at. Wednesday almost wants to watch your friends stay scared behind trees as you claw at the ground below you even more as Enid’s attempts at calming you down seem to be futile

“Wednesday’s almost there, (Y/n)! Maybe just a few more minutes?”

“But I want her now!!” You cry, falling to the ground on your furry stomach with a loud thump

“We’ve already established you’re a bear! We don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, dude!” Your friends voice cracks

“There are two wolves inside of me…” Your head snaps at the sound of a twig snapping in the forest. You stand up on your hind legs, hoping to intimidate whoever seems to be in the forest with you. You’ve already pissed on every tree so no way another bear would dare challenge you for territory

“Who’s there!”

“Don’t get your fur matted, it’s just me.” Wednesday makes her presence known by a chill in the air, which makes your friend jump but ultimately hide behind her. At first he touches her shoulder but the glare she sends his way makes him rethink his life. Luckily he gets out of the way before you barrel towards Wednesday. This time, as a giant tiger

The Addams is quickly tackled to the floor with your entire body weight on her. Your tongue would probably hurt Wednesday if you licked hard enough so you opt for chuffing wildly while having all the characteristics of a needy house cat. You had to make your peace with not being able to purr as a tiger. Which, you were always mad about. “If big cat, why no purr?” as you’d say

“(Y/n).” Wednesday embraces you. Her hands rack through your fur with calculated fingers that knew where to pet you. Under your stomach, behind the ears, and anywhere on your neck. She also knew where your pressure points were, but there’s no fun in dragging a tiger back to Nevermore

You chuff in response, not planning to stop smothering your girlfriend

“(Y/n).” Wednesday tries again. She fails.

“(Y/n).” This time, the look on your girlfriends face makes you stop your smothering. You blow air into her face with a tilt of your head

“Human, now.” You huff in Wednesday’s face while unwillingly getting off of her. Despite her protest you stay a tiger as you walk over to your friend, who looks confused as ever. Giving him a small nod, you take your phone out of his hand with your mouth and let him pet your head

Next, you scoop up Wednesday on your back while deciding it’s a better time than ever to leave

“S-Same time next week?” Your friend calls behind you. You give him the best smile you can whilst your phone is still in your mouth

You’re halfway out the forest when Wednesday finally decides to talk to you again

“For the record, I’m not doing this again the same time next week.”

//-//

Bonus:

Enid opens her door to; you, who’s taken Wednesday’s jacket with a shit eating grin and Wednesday, who’s glaring at you with what looks to be either murder or adoration.

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #wednesday (2022)#wednesday x y/n #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x you #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams #enid sinclair #xavier thorpe #bianca barclay

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mockerycrow · 11 months ago

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Please could I have Ghost with a fem reader and "You'd better get rid of everyone in this house or I swear to god I'm gonna fuck you on the first flat surface I can get you to, and I know you don't want anyone to know what you sound like when I'm fucking you."

Thank you luv!!

HOUSE PARTY (Ghost x Fem!Reader) — 4K CELEBRATION

[WARNINGS; no sex but very suggestive, alcohol ingestion, maskless simon.]

You sip your glass of alcohol—you don’t recall the name, some brand Kyle had brought to the house as a gift. The team managed to score a collective leave after a very successful mission; a mission you of course, were not allowed to know the details of. Whatever happened during that three month period though, left Simon incredibly pent up. After learning they managed to all get on leave together, you decided it was time to throw a party for them; to have some downtime.

Of course, Simon lives with you, so you had gotten his approval. Nothing too big, just you, himself, and the rest of his team. Simon wasn’t interested in having strangers in the house which you could understand. He’s probably sick of seeing faces he doesn’t know after whatever he did on that mission. You’re all sitting in the backyard together around a firepit Simon had built about a year before. The pit and crackling with life from the fire; you’re all sitting on logs as seats.

You’re sitting next to Simon, who has been unusually touchy tonight. Simon doesn’t keep his hands to himself when you’re alone, but the arm wrapped around your waist with his fingers sliding under your shirt to touch your skin is very out of character for him. You enjoy the touch, unable to resist your urge to lean into his side. You laugh at a joke, your body gently shaking against his. Simon thinks your laugh is absolutely beautiful. His heart warms from the sound, squeezing your waist gently.

Simon is quiet, which isn’t unusual. Even when you’re alone, Simon isn’t a man of too many words. He’s more of an action man, showing and instead of saying. You know this, which is why he doesn’t understand why you’re not getting it. His fingers are gently moving back and forth on the skin of your waist under your shirt, right above the waistline of your pants. His leg is pressed up against yours, and he’s barely said a word tonight.

You laugh once more and say something to someone—something he doesn’t really pay attention to. Not when he indeed absolutely adores your laugh, but he would much rather hear a different, breathier sound leave those lips of yours.

Simon takes a long sip of his drink, licking his lips afterwards. His eyes trail over his team; Kyle, who is sitting on one side of Johnny on the log—Johnny opting to sit in the grass and to lean against the log—with Price on the other side of him. Both Kyle and Johnny are nursing on whatever alcohol Kyle brought whilst Price stayed sober, opting to be the designated driver for tonight's hangout.

Simon’s cock twitches underneath his jeans as his thoughts slowly turn more filthy. He inhales as his hand slips from your waist down to the curve of your hip, where your ass and thigh starts and gives you a steady squeeze. You shoot Simon a look which he returns; except his is with heavy, lidded eyes that scream ‘fuck me’. You swallow and look away, your heart thumping harder from his gaze. You didn’t expect that at all. You take another sip of your drink to wet your quickly drying throat—but your cunt is certainly soaking your panties.

You feel Simon shift and lean into your ear, his lips just barely brushing against your ear.

“You'd better get rid of everyone in this house or I swear to god I'm gonna fuck you on the first flat surface I can get you to, and I know you don't want anyone to know what you sound like when I'm fucking you.”

You shudder, his words sending a hot drop of thick honey liquid of pure arousal deep into your stomach, right down into your clit.

Yes sir, you mentally reply.

#crow’s 4k celebration #call of duty #cod #call of duty mwii #cod mw2 #modern warfare ii #mw2022 #mw2 2022 #ghost smut #ghost #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost x fem!reader #simon riley x fem!reader #simon ghost riley x fem!reader #ghost call of duty

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ghettogirly · 6 months ago

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Hello, is there gonna be part 2 of welcome to my world?

𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐘 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃 [𝟐]

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐗 𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐀 ’𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐎𝐒’ 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍

-> click here to read: 𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐝𝐞 𝟏

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

-> synopsis: entering Miami, the crew are now thrown into a dangerous world as a bounty is placed onto their heads. Is something blossoming between Armando and Malia?

-> theme: slow burn, action.

-> format: story

-> warning: use of n word, violence, mature language, suggestive themes.

-> authors note: you asked and you shall receive! this took me a while since it was so long. hope you enjoy! 𝟐.𝟑𝐤 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬, 𝐫𝐞��𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝.🌸

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𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐃𝐄 𝟐: 𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒.

Footprints trailed behind the four as they ran through the forest. Trees hung over them, running in between, in attempts to throw those who were following them off. A glimpse of a sunbeam peeked through the huddle of trees showcasing the time of day. It was now dawn.

Logs and branches covered the wildlife below their feet, moss and grass poked up from the soil where the sunlight touched them, allowing them to photosynthesise.

Panting, the crew located a hut at the bottom of the hill, built next to a river. At the top of the mountain, they all looked at each other, signalling what the plan was.

“Deberíamos barrer la cabaña, una persona en cada ángulo.”

Marcus turned to Armando with a confused look on his face, “Armando I don’t even know what you said but i am not following your plan. You’re too crazy for my old ass.”

Giggling, Malia turned away from group as she found Marcus comment funny. Mike shaking his head, looked towards Armando. “We all just need to go together.”

“Says who?” The male stepped forward.

“I’m not asking you, i’m telling you. We are staying together!” Mike stood up, a scowl crawling across his face at his son’s stubbornness.

“Fuck out my way.”

Grabbing on his shirt, Mike pulls Armando close to him. Grabbing him back Armando put his head closer to his father’s, a vein appearing on his head due to adrenaline pumping through them. His fight clearly activated due to the hormone being secreted from the adrenal gland. Getting in between them, Marcus put both his arms out.

“I can’t deal with this hot headed bullshit! On 3! 1, 2-“

The two pushed each other back.

“There you go!”

Walking past the two, Malia slowly glided down the hill towards the hut. Stopping at the back before peeking through one of the windows, noticing someone was there, she slowly creeped around the opposite side of the house. The three men looked behind them and noticed how she wandered off, throwing their hands up in defeat they followed behind.

A wooden deck trailed along the coast of the beach, the waves crashed against each other causing a thin layer of foam to bubble on top. The sun slowly popped from under the shoreline as the orange, dazzling rays were emitted from the giant star. The brown skinned girl was in awe of the beautiful sight that was before her, causing the melanated skin to glow in the light. She embraced the warmth of the rays as they gave her comfort: peace.

The enigma of why heat and fire brought her comfort lingered in the air. Not only making her ponder but even Armando who eyed her curiously as she basked in the tranquility of the beach. Nevertheless, he shook his head and focused on the mission before him. “Necesitamos movernos.”

Running towards the boat, Armando quickly unravelled the rope that connect the vehicle to the bank. Mike and Marcus hopped into the boat with Malia following their lead. Pushing the boat away from the bank slightly in order to start the motor, the male was just about to step on the beach until a figure appeared before him.

“I know you ain’t stealing from me!”

Looking up, a hillbilly stood in front of him.

“We ain’t stealing your shit just because we’re black!!”

All the heads turned towards Marcus who looked at him with a confused look on their face. “Escucha, tenemos que irnos.”

“Listen boy, you either need to speak English or go back to wherever you came from, you-“

Quickly tackling him, Armando dropped the caucasian male to the ground. In attempt to fight back, the man tried to grab his neck, with no avail. Quickly getting back in his feet, Armando grabbed the smaller male and threw him into the building. Causing the others to look at him with a shocked look on their faces.

“What?”

“Nothing.” They all said in unison.

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𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑, the boat slowly sailed across the river bank. Armando controlled the steering wheel while the other three just laid down. By the time they got on the boat and started the engine, the sun started setting. Sailing for about 4 hours now, everyone was quiet as the tiredness hit.

A crackle and a pop came from below the boat. Suddenly, a flicker of light came from the motor of the boat causing smoke to then burst from under it. The controls of the boat was gone. “Controls are out.”

“We are not too far away from the beach, you think we can get there?” Mike suggested.

“How though?” Marcus asked.

The three men looked at each other and then looked towards Malia who was just there fiddling with her nails. “You guys do realise that there are oars right beneath us right?”

Slowly looking down, the men realise the flat, wooden blades that lie on the floor of the vehicle. “Así que eres útil para algo.”

“Excuse me?”

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𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐋𝐘 𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇, the three exit the boat. Panting due to the energy needed to glide the boat against the upthrust of the waves, as the pressure of the water made it harder to move. Looking around, they observed the multi-coloured lights and the neon strobes that wrapped around the tall skyscraper buildings that was before them.

City lights were on that illuminated the dark streets with a dim light, creating a moody atmosphere within the city. Walking across the beach, the four stood before a road. “Yeah, we in Miami.” Mike confirmed.

“So what do we do now?”

“Necesitamos armas.”

“Vendôme is not too far from here, we just need to get there.”

“Aw hell nah Mike, that crazy ass lady Mila who runs that shit don’t even like me!” Marcus argued back.

“She likes me though.”

“You are a married man now with you freaky ass, christine wouldn’t like all that-“

Slapping his head, Mike cuts him off. “Nigga just shut up and let’s go!”

Jogging up the path, the neon sign illuminated from the building above. The brown skinned girl walked forward and pushed open the sleek black doors welcoming an eruption of loud rap music and people cheering.

Strolling into the building, Malia pushed through crowds with the boys trailing slowly behind her. Elevated stages and stripper poles were scattered across the nightclub with near-naked girls sliding and doing tricks on the metal structures. On the other side of the club was a bar, where a group of people were taking shots, allowing the alcoholic substance to slide down their throats.

Approaching an archway that had red, tiny pearls hanging down from it, a bodyguard put his arm out in an attempt to stop the four from entering. “Ay, we here for Mila, it’s Mike.”

The arm was then retracted and mike gave a nod of approval to the bodyguard, who led them inside the private booth. In the smaller room was about 4 girls, including Mila. She had black, sleek hair trailing down her tan skin. Her nails were painted neon orange while she wore a skimpy, neon yellow dress, promoting the theme of the club which was known for its bright colours. “Hey big daddy..”

“Nah, i ain’t that. Don’t already start Mila.” Mike jokingly warned who embraced the hug from the shorter latina woman who just walked up to hug him. The rest of the three sat down.

“So what do you need?”

“We gonna need some clothes, a car and some guns. Just something quick.”

“Okay i hear that.. but what you gonna do for me though?”

The other three looked at each other wearily before glancing back over at the two and their conversation.

“Listen-“

“Mila, he’s a married man. He can’t do nothing for you!” Marcus interjected, shaking his head.

“So, what does that got to do with me? All you gonna do is close your eyes, i’ll do the rest baby.”

A splutter is heard from within the small room.

“I mean, she ain’t wrong. You close your eyes and she can do everything else Mike.” Marcus whispered, reenacting the movements of what Mike would do in the situation.

“Mila you fucking with me bro, we don’t have anytime for your bullshit. Matter of fact, we outta here-“

Standing up the crew for ready to leave, before clicks were heard across the room. Guns were drawn as the 3 other girls that surrounded Mila stood up on the couch. Bodyguards now covered every exit while shouts were thrown towards the group.

“Y’all better sit your dumb asses down before i kill you!”

“Mila what the fuck are you doing?”

“¡Cállate la boca! Hay una recompensa de 2 millones de dólares por tu cabeza. Solo me estaba demorando, bebé.”

“You a crazy, broke ass bitch.” Malia interjected, mugging the older latina lady as she just laughed.

“Who’s going to be dead and who’s going to have 2 million dollars by the end of it? That’s what i thought.”

Before the brown skinned girl could say anything back, A group of guys entered the room. 5 black men drawn with guns swaggered in, the chains glistening from the strobe of lights as the main one approached Mike. Opening his mouth, his gold grills were shown to the group, highlighting his status.

“Bounty is dead or alive. Don’t do nothing stupid.”

Pushing Mike and Marcus along, one of the men grabbed Malia, wrapping his rough hands around the woman’s arm as he forces her to hurry up.

“Let go of her.” Armando warns, his smooth sultry tone echoing through the dark room which causes everyone to look at him. Including the man who continues to hold Malia.

“Don’t make me say it again.”

“Man just let her go so we can get this money!!” One of the gang members shouted towards the male who just stared at Armando. Huffing, he let her go; not before pushing her forward to get her to continue walking.

“This nigga wants to touch me so bad, what the fuck.” Malia whispered to Armando who just laughed. “quién no lo haría?”

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𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 to respond the group was led outside towards a black van. Climbing into the van, a sudden series of gunshots was scattered towards the vehicle, killing the gang members that held them captive. Hiding behind the van, Armando quickly ran out to get one of the assault guns that was dropped by the dead member.

Jumping into the van, the four hid under the seats.

“Payday Payday! Yo Mike, i know you there with your tired ass!!”

Shaking his head, Mike sighed at the sound of the voice, recognising who it was.

“You know this guy?” Armand suggested, giving a knowing look to his father.

“Uh, i smashed his hand with a hammer a couple years back. Nothing crazy.”

Focusing back on the events going back on outside, the bigger male was still shouting. “I’m with the streets now! It’s my time!” Aiming his gun towards the van, the now identified male, Vincent starts shooting towards the vehicle.

In retaliation, Armando starts shooting back from within the van. Peeking his gun through a blind spot, spraying some of the other active criminals that were there with bullets. With precision and accuracy he successfully fired two shots that were part of vincent’s crew, his toned muscles popping out of the T-shirt he was in as he focused. Malia watched intently, now understanding the danger the surrounded the mexican male. Having a sense of danger yet cool aura to him, which honestly turned her on: slightly.

Marcus slowly crawls up to the driver seat, pressing the gas pedal, driving straight into Vincent whose eyes widen towards as he realises what’s going on. “Fuck!!”

Two more vehicles slide up, shooting Vincent’s gang in attempts to also retrieve the bounty for the bad boys. Jumping into the seat, Marcus pulls off and starts driving away, speeding down the roads in attempts to get away from the chaotic situation occurring by the nightclub.

A sudden flame rose from the cracks of the back door from the van, a molotov spraying a burst of fire around the ring of the entrance of the van.

“Don’t worry guys, the fire is on the outside!”

The cardboard boxes that were in the corner of the van was quickly lit on fire, the fire now reaching the inside. Swirling around Armando’s legs, the small flames create a hot sensation on his clothes as they slowly burn past the fibres, touching some of his receptors on his leg. Realising his legs were on fire, his eyes widened as he start yelling, patting the flames in attempts to extinguish them.

“Oh shit, now it’s on the inside!!” Marcus yelled.

Realising Armando’s current state, Malia quickly helped him out. Opening the door, she kicked the boxes out of the van. Instantaneously, a bullet shot right above the girl - just missing her as it hit off the top of the van. Back on his toes, Armando quickly wrapped his arms around Malia’s waist pulling her back and shutting the door.

“I was fine!!!” She shouted.

“No you wasn’t! Someone just fucking shot at you!”

“Guys, we need to jump out the van!!”

Quickly looking back at each other, the 2 younger ones jumped out of the back while Mike and Marcus jumped out each side. Speeding down the road, the van instantly blew up due to the overheating of the engine and the fire that surrounded it, now destroyed.

The crew looked at each other , panting as they get their breaths back.

“We need to get back to Dorn’s.”

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[🌸] 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒:

“Deberíamos barrer la cabaña, una persona en cada ángulo.”: We should just sweep the hut, one person at every angle.

“Necesitamos movernos.”: We need to move.

“Escucha, tenemos que irnos.”: Listen, we need to go.

“Así que eres útil para algo.” : So you are useful for something.

“Necesitamos armas.”: We need guns.

“¡Cállate la boca! Hay una recompensa de 2 millones de dólares por tu cabeza. Solo me estaba demorando, bebé.”: Shut the fuck up! There is a 2 million dollar bounty on your head. I was just stalling baby.

“quién no lo haría”: Who wouldn’t ?

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[🌸] 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @milliumizoomi @shurisgf @armandosbabymama @wizewhispers @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @deadpool15 @amplifiedmoan @5tarlan7 @thedarkworldofhananerea @sarcasticbitchsblog @dyttomori @tyneshaaa @yeahnohoneybye @believeinthefireflies95

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