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keeksandgigz · 1 year ago

Text

somewhere we can be alone

stage manager!eddie munson x theatre kid!fem!reader

a collab with @reidsbtch- mariah is literally the best person to collab with, it's like our brains were making out the whole time we were writing this. thank u for letting me collab with you to write this absolutely not self indulgent, way too long fic together <3

summary: Now on the tail end of graduating, Eddie Munson is required to take part in an extracurricular activity. He's assigned as stage manager for the school's production of Romeo and Juliet. You, the star of the show, aren't too happy to have your senior performance sabotaged by one long- haired metalhead.

word count: 7.7k words

warnings: no y/n, no physical description of reader, swearing, oral (m & f receiving), enemies to fuck buddies to lovers, mentions of queer!reader, it's actually just fucking smut, fingering, unprotected piv (wrap it up), cream pie, use of nicknames (baby, sweets, sweetheart etc), eddie being a stupid lovable idiot

This and all of mine and mariah's works are 18+ minors do NOT interact

He’s been slumped in the guidance counselor’s office for thirty minutes, the wooden chair digging into his bones, growing uncomfortable as he listens to her, hardly believing he’s so close to leaving this fucking school himself.

“You’re keeping up your grades and maintaining regular attendance, Eddie. You’re just missing one last thing to be able to graduate.”

He rubs his face, maybe from the lack of sleep, or the restlessness of finally being able to leave the office he spent way too much time in during the past six years, as long as he keeps showing up to school for the next two months. He groans regardless.

“What would this ‘last thing’ be? Am I gonna be sent on a quest to slay a fucking dragon? Is that what’s gonna take me to graduate?” He snaps, the lack of sleep has finally gotten to him– school doesn’t really appeal to his late bird nature.

The counselor gasps at the crudeness of the profanity “Language!” She exclaims, like he’s never heard that before, daring to swear in front of students, staff and faculty alike, but the blonde lady with the ridiculously coiffed and teased and sprayed hair composes herself again, jutting a look down to his student folder again.

He imagines it to be full of red pen marks, every single one of those a proof of his own failure. He’ll steal it the day he graduates– and set it on fire. Hell, he’ll even roast marshmallows on it.

“Anyways,” she explains in a way that really shows the massive stick up her ass that makes her think Eddie should just stop bothering with school altogether. “You have to partake in an extracurricular activity.”

And he chortles. He was thinking something dreadful like picking trash up at the park or feeding and bathing the old people at the retirement home.

“Something funny, Mr. Munson?” Her nostrils are flared, she can’t wait ‘til he leaves her office.

“So like- like drama club and shit?” His tone is incredulous, he can deal with a couple lines to memorize. He’s had to do way worse for his Dungeon Master role, and even then, Miss George likes him– she’s let him and the club play DnD in her room for the past two years. Should be easy.

The counselor takes her glasses off her pointy nose, letting them hang with a tacky pink, flowery chain around her neck. “Well, yes– that’s one of the options. Unfortunately, your GPA is not high enough for you to partake in the school play, per se, so I can only place you in the backstage crew– building sets and moving things around. We’ll put that brain of yours to work.” She chuckles as she hands him a slip of paper to give to Miss George.

Eddie picks up his bag, “Real funny, huh.” He shrugs his shoulders and heads to the school auditorium. Last time he was there he’d gotten caught by a custodian while Terry Richardson’s face was stuck in between his legs, trousers pulled down halfway down his thighs as she gave him a toothy blowjob. He got suspended for a week.

He sees Miss George sat in the audience, scribbling notes onto a notepad as you recite the famous balcony monologue from Romeo and Juliet. He knows you, he’s seen you around– you’re by no means in the popular crowd, but you stand out, in the way that your clothes always seem to border the fine line of what's socially acceptable and outrageously eccentric.

Even if you’re not part of the popular crowd, there’s no denying that, like the rest of the school, you avoid him like the plague, cute as he is. You interrupt your monologue as you see him smirk down the central aisle of chairs. Miss George turns around at the sudden interruption. Eddie just hands her the slip.

“Oh my goodness!” she coos, “We have a stage manager.” And he wishes he could have photographed the look on your face. “Stage manager?! Miss George, you can’t be serious!” You exclaim as Eddie takes a seat next to her, kicking his boots up on the back of the chair in front of him.

A smirk ever present on his face as he crosses his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow at you. “He doesn’t have any experience.” You continue, not about to have your senior year performance ruined by Eddie Munson of all people. “Shouldn't be that hard to keep a diva like yourself in line, hmm?”

Eddie answers before Miss George has a chance to, the theater now going quiet except for a few snickers from the tech crew. “Alright, that’s enough from the both of you. Eddie, I’ll have our ASM get you up to speed. Now, please continue with the monologue.” The male only grins wider as you glare back, before looking back down at your script with a sigh.

He ventures backstage– not sure what ASM stands for and maybe too embarrassed to ask as he sees kids dressed in black moving wooden planks onto the stage, carrying cans of paints and brushes.

He taps a kid on his shoulder, arranging a prop table, he looks at Eddie like he’s seen a ghost.

“I was looking for the ASM?” The kid is looking side to side, still wondering why Eddie Munson is talking to him.

“Uhhh, she’s in the booth.” He mutters, before turning around and going back to his props. What the fuck is a booth?

Eddie just plainly decides to look for it himself, since nobody’s any fucking help in this school. He opens door after door- a storage closet, a closet just for wood, a bathroom. Arrived at the last door, he isn’t exactly sure he’s ever going to find this stupid ASM- and he still doesn’t know what that stands for.

The noise of a door opening startles you, as you try to put on your dress as quickly as you can to avoid flashing someone. It’s only when you see who it is that you start screaming, and with you, Eddie just pops a hand in front of his eyes, screaming a string of sorries, and that he hasn’t seen anything.

“I was just looking for the booth! Stop screaming!” he screeches, worried he’s gonna get himself in trouble with Miss George if she hears you screaming like you’re getting skinned alive. Thankfully, you stop, as Eddie looks away, aware of your exposed back peeking through the zipper. You clutch the fabric against you, struggling to zip up the back of your dress one-handed.

Eddie makes a whistling sound, distracting himself from the way you seem to be teetering between asking for his help and telling him to fuck off.

“The door to the booth is in the audience, by the way. Off to the side, there’s some stairs.” You huff, slightly getting your zipper up. He goes to turn around, but you stop him. He cocks an eyebrow.

You roll your eyes, lips in a thin line as you keep the door open with one hand.

“Can you make yourself useful and help me with my zipper?”

With an annoyed huff he steps fully into the dressing room, shutting the door behind him as you turn your back towards him once more. Carefully clutching the dress, your eyes meeting his in the long row of vanity mirrors in front of you. You can feel his warm breath on your neck as he steps closer, carefully lifting your hair over your shoulder.

Eddie’s fingers follow the seam of the unzipped garment, barely tracing the bare skin of your back. You try to hold off the shiver from passing through you as he slowly begins zipping it up. A hint of a smirk on his mouth as he notices the goosebumps breaking out across your skin. “Anything else princess? Or am I free to go?”

His fingers now fall away from you, clearing your throat as you try to shake off the arousal that was now coursing through your veins. You wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction of knowing how frazzled he had just made you.

Instead of answering, you just groan, eyes lifted up, going past him and clocking him in the shoulder as you headed back on stage. God you were fucking insufferable.

Eddie finds out that ASM means Assistant Stage Manager and that said ASM was none other than Max Mayfield, roped into doing theatre tech for extra credit. And that the booth was where they tampered with the lights and shit. All he had to do as Stage Manager for that rehearsal was oversee the light cues, which proved to be a little more complicated than he initially expected.

He messes up most of the cues in the first act before he finally seems to have gotten a grasp of it. All the while you’re tossing glares his way, using the light cues as an excuse for the harsh looks. But really it’s due to your annoyance at how the mere brush of his fingertips left you wanting more. Wanting more of him, despite your better judgment– you were not about to have him ruin your senior show.

And in spite of that, you closely follow Eddie’s actions. In a lull between scenes he stands up, you follow him with your eyes as he enters back into the auditorium, beelining backstage.

Eddie’s not totally sure what shit designer built the theatre, because he might as well have pissed himself on the way between the booth and the only bathroom in the auditorium. Not only that, but he kept missing cue after cue, followed by the dirtiest looks known to man, straight into his eyes. After the encounter you had in the dressing room– fingers caressing the soft skin of your back, feeling you shiver under his touch, he knew he had some kind of leverage over you.

So when he’s done taking a leak and looks down at the door, he’s sure you’re behind it, slipping a little piece of paper in the crack.

Meet me in the booth after rehearsal. XX

Eddie wouldn’t say he was nervous, his curiosity was piqued more than anything. However, he’s antsy the last half of the show, leg bouncing as he tries to listen and follow Max’s instructions. The girl gives him an annoyed lecture in between cues. But his mind’s a little preoccupied, trying to figure out what exactly you want from him.

So when he re-enters the dark light booth once everyone else has left, he doesn’t expect you to shove him up against the door, locking it with a swift click. His breath hitches in his throat, both in confusion, and at the fact that you’re fumbling with his belt, despite the dirty looks you’ve been giving him the whole afternoon.

“What uh- what are you doing?” His tone is alarmed, stammering as he tries to grab onto the door handle for purchase. You’re too busy getting his jeans down to bother.

“Sucking you off. That okay?” You look at him for a reassurance that comes almost immediately with a violent nod of his head.

He’s confused, but he’s not going to turn you down. After all, he felt the way you tensed under his touch while he was pulling up your zipper, “Shit, fine by me.” He shrugs, acting like he isn’t busting at the seams waiting for you to pull down his pants.

Eddie’s belt makes a clinking sound, along with his wallet chain while you pull his pants down to his thighs. You move his trembling body away from the door, against the table with the light console. His knuckles turn white as he grabs the edges on the table for support.

Gripping the hem of his checkered boxers, freeing his hardened length. Your eyes widening slightly at the sight of it, he’s big— a lot bigger than you expected. Even in the dim lighting he notices your shocked expression.

“Ya gonna just stare at it all night sweetheart?” He asks, a smug smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he looks down at you. You shoot another glare his way, before grasping the base of his cock in your fist, licking a long stripe up the shaft. Feeling satisfied as you hear his shaky intake of breath. Eagerly you take him past your lips, as a low groan leaves his own.

“Shit,” he curses as your warm mouth envelops him fully, ringed fingers knotting themselves in your hair. You open your mouth as wide as you can, taking him deeper. Gagging slightly as he hits the back of your throat, tears brimming in the corner of your eyes as you try to adjust to his size. He’s by far the biggest one you’ve had.

“Talked such a big game with that mouth of yours sweetness, am I too much for you?” Your fingers dig into the skin of his thighs, his cock slipping from your lips as you pull back.

“Do you ever shut the fuck up Munson?” You huff, but before he can reply with another snarky remark your tongue is swirling around the tip of his cock. Silencing him for a moment as you take him back into your mouth.

Another string of curses falls from his lips, as his hips begin thrusting into your mouth with an abandon you haven’t seen before. Your cheeks are hollowed and he can feel himself getting embarrassingly close.

“F-fuck where- where’d you learn all of this?” It comes out in broken pants, and he can feel a smirk forming on your lips as you take him out a second time.

“One thing about theatre people is that we’re all gonna fuck each other. You should see how I eat pussy,” you shrug, putting him back in your mouth, and Eddie swears he’s about to bust in less than a minute.

“I’m gonna- fuck.” But he doesn’t get to finish that sentence, as you take him out of your mouth and stand back up.

Eddie’s bewildered expression is easy to read as he looks at you like you shot his dog. But you get close, dangerously close to his lips, your nose almost bumping his.

“That’s for fucking up my light cue, idiot,” it’s a feeble whisper against his lips before you’re gone into the darkness of the theatre. Too shocked to react, Eddie’s left with his pants pulled down for a good two minutes before registering what happened.

So he’s left blue balled in that stupid light booth, fuming and confused. There was no way in hell he would let you treat him like that and walk away the way you did.

Eddie had been scheming all week between rehearsals, attempting to find a good time to get you alone. He wasn’t about to let you get away with leaving him like that, but you were actively avoiding him.

But an opportunity fell into his lap without any effort on his part, Miss George asking you to stay behind to work on some blocking with her. As the stage manager he was required to stay behind too, his mind already reeling with possibilities.

So when you duck behind the curtain to change out of your costume, Eddie is quick to swoop in. Offering to shut down the lights and lock up, and Miss George is more than willing to let him.

By the time you get back on stage the theater is dark, the ghost light shining brightly center stage. “Eddie? Miss George?” You call out into the darkness, getting complete silence in return.

“Oh you’ve got to be fucking kidding.” You groan, clutching the strap of your book bag tightly. Of course he’d leave you in the dark theater to fend for yourself. “Asshole.” You mumble under your breath, reaching your hand out in front of you as you make your way across the dark stage.

You’ve bumped into multiple set pieces at this point, as you attempted to find the stairs leading down to the audience in complete darkness. Your frustration grows with each passing minute, that is until you hear the shuffling of feet.

“Hello?” You call out again, squinting as if it would help you see any better. Fear stirs in your gut as the theater is silent once more, shadows seeming to come to life in the corner of your eyes.

Once you finally reach the edge of the stage, you grip onto the railing tightly as you fumble your way down the stairs. Sighing in relief as you feel the carpet beneath your feet.

You only make it a few steps further before you feel a hand snaking around your waist, pulling you back into a hard chest. The other hand cupping itself over your mouth to muffle the scream that leaves your lips.

“Screaming for me already sweets? Haven’t even touched you yet.” His voice is mocking, his warm breath fanning across your neck as he laughs. You quickly squirm out of his grasp, a flashlight clicking on to illuminate his stupidly gorgeous features.

“You fucking psychopath! What were you thinking?” you shove him on the shoulder, he laughs as he zeroes in the flashlight on you, red in the face and furious.

“Had to get back at you for how much of a little tease you were the other day,” he croons. You purse your lips together, a deep blush spreading across your cheeks as you try to stabilize your still quickly beating heart.

“Whatever. Fuck you, Eddie.” You spit, but he’s quick to grab your arm and push it behind your back, the flashlight hitting the ground and rolling under one of the seats. His chest is pressed against your shoulder blades as you shudder in his arms.

“You’re not getting away so easily, sweetness.” He breathes against your earlobe as you keen into the warmth of his chest, his nose buried in the crook of your neck as his free hand goes to your waist.

“This okay?” he murmurs, and you nod. A sharp nip to your earlobe makes you hiss.

“I can’t fucking see you nod, can I?” You can tell he’s having too much fun torturing you, feeling his hand travel all across your torso and chest.

“N-No,” you whimper.

“Exactly. Try that again,” his hand rests against the waistband of your jeans, awaiting an answer, teasing the skin behind the fabric. The tips of his fingers brush the skin there, making you whimper in response.

“This is okay.” you breathe out, and it’s the only answer he needs to slip his hand past your jeans, unbuttoning the offending material to push his hand further down into your pants.

“That’s a good girl,” he whispers against your ear as his hand cups your clothed core. You waste no time grinding against the heel of his palm, letting small, breathy moans escape you. Afraid to get caught in the dead of night getting touched and fondled by the town pariah.

“You sound so pretty singing for me, don’t you sweets?” he whispers smugly. His hand feels a little too good against you, your hips grinding back and forth following the rhythm he was creating, “Hmm, but I think you can be a little louder.”

You gasp as he slips his hand inside your panties, his calloused fingers encircling your swollen clit. Your head falls back onto his shoulder, your hand gripping onto his thigh. His digits dip lower, teasing your entrance before slipping one inside and curling them up.

You can’t stop the shaky cry from leaving your lips, the sound now filling the auditorium. A smirk tugs at his mouth, using the heel of his palm to press against your clit. “Listen to that… you’ve got such a pretty voice don’t you?”

You dig your nails into the denim covering his thigh, a low groan sounding in his throat. “Wonder what it sounds like when you beg,” he easily adds another finger inside your wet cunt, thrusting them deeper. “N-Never gonna happen Munson.”

Eddie laughs, pulling another moan from you as his other hand drifts up under your shirt to cup your breast. “We’ll see about that.”

His breath is fanning hot and humid against your neck as you reach around to bring his head closer, needing him to be closer.

Nothing he’s saying is registering in your brain, as his fingers pump in and out of you with a torturous pace, feeling his wolfish grin plastered against the skin of your cheek.

He’s watching your every move, your every breath and whimper, biting his lip at the way your eyes roll to the back of your head every time his fingers curl up in a certain manner. You don’t think you have much time left before you release yourself all over his hand, and he knows it.

From the way you keep twitching and tightening around his fingers, he feels you’re getting close, but much like you did that night in the booth, he won’t let you get it that easily.

“Y’close sweets?” he groans, his own hips now grinding against the swell of your ass.

“Uh-huh,” is all you can manage to say, brain scrambled from his words and ministrations.

“You know what you gotta do now, don’t you, pretty?” he bites at the hinge of your jaw, as you cry out, the noise echoing in the empty theatre.

“You gotta beg for it.” And he hears you gasp at that, a dry chuckle leaves his lips. “You didn’t think I was gonna make you cum that easy did you?”

“Mmm- fuck you, Munson.” you struggle against your brain’s desire to one up him and your body’s desire for release.

“C’mon, don’t you want to cum? I bet you’re so pent up from a whole day of staring at me building sets, aren’t you?” and he’s right, your eyes did wander to his arms in his tight fitting t-shirt, with his hair tied up in a low bun as he hammered nails into wooden boards.

His fingers speed up and you can feel it, you’re so, so close.

“Please, let me,” you whine into his arm, biting at the muscle there. You’re getting so loud.

“That’s right, keep begging for me– good girl gettin’ nice and loud for me,” it’s a growl at this point, a string of please please please follow it. Tears pricking at your eyes with how intensely good he’s making you feel.

So close, so close–

He removes his fingers, jerking you out of that hazy state you were previously in. The male now removes himself from you, retrieving the flashlight from under the seat. Your chest is heaving as you turn to face him, anger now coursing through you as he grins devilishly down at you.

“How cute, you thought I was actually gonna let you cum with how you left me the other day?” Eddie’s laughter fills the theater as he steps closer to you. Your bodies almost touching, lifting his fingers that were just inside you up to your lips.

The brunette carefully drummed the digits against your mouth, “Now, be a good girl and clean up the mess you made.” You glare as you let his fingers slip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around them in a teasing manner.

You noticed how his breath hitches, his cock straining uncomfortably in his jeans. But there’s no way that you’re helping him out with his little problem now. You playfully bite his fingers that are still in your mouth, as he utters an annoyed ‘ouch’ before taking them back out.

His fingers make their way to your scalp– yanking at the hair, making you hiss. “You think you’re fucking cute? I’ll see you tomorrow after rehearsal,” his tone makes you tremble, as he takes his hand out of your hair and disappears into the darkness of the theatre, leaving you once again in the dark.

You stumble down the side stairs of the stage and get out of the side door, quickly making your way home.

And it becomes a regular thing, you and Eddie blue balling each other to the point of frustration, like it’s a sick and twisted power game you both play. After rehearsal he offers to lock up for Miss George and you wait for him in one of the dressing rooms, or in the dimly lit booth. He’s become irritable, and you have as well.

If you were insufferable before, now you’re downright hateful as you yell at the light crew to stop messing up your spotlight moment, or that your costume felt too constricting or your prop too flimsy.

Everything has you on edge, but you don’t hesitate to meet Eddie every night that week after rehearsal. Maybe he’ll let you cum this time.

You wait for him backstage, sitting on one of the set pieces, a throne. There’s a dim overhead light shining on you. Eddie’s lip is caught between his teeth as he looks at you on his Dungeon Master throne.

“Get up.” he commands. The shirt he’s wearing is tight, it makes his shoulders look more prominent. You squeeze your legs together.

“Why should I? My legs are tired from being on my feet all rehearsal,” you give him a fake pout as he inches towards you.

“Because that’s my Dungeon Master throne,” it sounds funny coming out of his mouth, voice low and gravelly “It’s mine.”

You chuckle a bit at that, how is this man being territorial over a set piece?

“And what if I said no?” a smile trapped in between your teeth, looking up at him through your lashes.

A dry laugh escapes him as he crosses his arms, “You’re so spoiled huh? Think you can always get your way? Last time I checked, this week it’s been the total opposite, hasn’t it?” and he’s not wrong, he’s given you all but what you want.

“This is my theatre, Munson. I believe you’re on my turf.” and he laughs at that, like you’ve said some kind of joke.

“You do theatre, sweetheart, c’mon you can’t be serious.” he kneels in front of you, grabbing your thighs and moving them apart with ease.

“Don’t be a bitch, Munson.” you hiss, as you feel his lips on your exposed thighs, kissing the skin there.

He whistles, low and sardonic. A wicked smile on his lips “That’s rich coming from you, you’ve had that nasty little attitude this whole week.” he continues with his kisses, while his hand ghosts over your inner thigh. Your breath hitches in your throat.

“I wouldn’t have this nasty little attitude as you call it if you would just let me- fuck.” his free hand ghosts over your panties. Your skin is sensitive, your brain is sensitive. Another touch and you might explode.

“Hmmm, what was that?” he bites at the flesh of your thigh, a high pitched whimper falling from your lips “Need me fuck that little attitude out of you sweetheart?”

And you’ve been wound up so tight for the past week that it doesn’t take you long to rid yourself of your panties. He takes advantage of you standing up, plopping down to take his rightful seat on the throne.

That cocky smirk is adorning his features, but you wanted to smack it off. “As cute as you think you look in this seat… it’s always been my throne sweets.”

Before Eddie has time to mutter another snarky remark you’re climbing into his lap, crashing your mouth against his. You’ve learned throughout the past week that it’s really the only way to shut him up.

His ringed fingers dig into the curve of your hips, eagerly grinding yourself against the bulge in his pants. Eddie moans into your mouth, his tongue licking your lower lip. You part your lips, allowing him entry as your tongues fight for dominance.

He tastes like Twizzlers and cigarettes, a combination you shouldn’t find as delicious as you do. But it only seems to make you needier, the denim becoming damp as you continue to grind yourself onto him.

“Look at you making a fucking mess on my jeans,” he mumbles against your mouth, nipping at your lower lip which causes you to whine as he pulls away. His chest rumbles as he chuckles, grabbing your cheeks in his hand— forcing you to look at him.

“But I’d rather you make a mess on my cock sweetheart.” His words have your head reeling, the male now gripping behind your knees and lifting you up. You squeal in surprise, clutching onto his shoulders to steady yourself. “Eddie, put me down.”

He carefully lets you slide down his front until your feet touch the ground, spinning you around before bending you over the armrest of his throne. His hands travel up your bare thighs, taking his time to appreciate your soft skin.

“Are you going to fuck me or not Munson?” You huff, the male now flipping up your skirt and landing a harsh smack on your ass. “So goddamn impatient aren’t you?”

You hear the sound of his belt clinking open, the zipper being tugged down. It makes you clench your thighs together, something Eddie didn’t miss. His fingers dipping between your legs, teasing you further.

“Trained you well didn’t I baby?” You can’t stop your eyes from rolling, despite how your stomach flipped at the word baby.

And you can feel him then, carefully lining himself at your entrance as you try to grind back into him. A firm hand against your hips stops you. “Ready? I’m gonna go slow,” he mutters, and there’s a gentleness in his words, despite his meanness in how he’s handling you.

You hum in approval and brace yourself. There’s a loud groan coming from behind you as he slips inside your warm heat, reveling in how you almost suck him in, a small gasp leaving you from the stretch.

“Big stretch, huh?” he coos in a cocky lilt, and you almost wanna reach around and punch him, but this idiot has your eyes rolling back from the fullness, and he’s not even all the way in yet.

So you nod, followed by a needy little whine that makes him chuckle low in his chest– you need him that much?

He goes deeper, spurred on by your noises, by how much you need him to fill you up. A sardonic smile on his lips as he bottoms out and slams all the way in, causing you to shriek.

Eddie sets a fast pace, not really giving you any time to adjust, but he’s already nudging that spot deep within you, making you see stars.

You hear him groan, “So fuckin’ tight, aren’t you sweets?” and it’s a rhetorical question, because your tongue feels too big for your mouth and there’s nothing coming out of it besides unintelligible whines and moans as you hold on to the armrest across from you.

Your noises only encourage him to go faster, and it’s almost too much the way he’s hitting that sweet spot inside you. You try to distance yourself from him, just enough to catch your breath, but he grabs your shoulders, using them as leverage to ram deeper into you.

He leans over, his clothed chest against your back, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear.

“Goin’ somewhere, baby? Thought you could handle me.” He bites at your earlobe, and there’s just so much going on in your brain that you can’t possibly muster any response to whatever he’s telling you.

“Oh I said that, didn’t I? When we first met. I said I could handle a spoiled little diva like you, and look at that,” he laughs, and you’re sure you’re about to combust. Your fingers reach to grip the cushioned seat of the throne, as another wail leaves your lips.

“Singin’ my praises now aren’t you baby?” The wood of his throne digs into your hips and stomach as he pushes you further into it, a feline movement as he drapes himself off and over you, his hands now gripping the armrest opposite of you for purchase.

Your legs begin to give out, as you beg God or whatever entity up there that he won’t give into his sick little game. That he’ll let you cum this time.

“Shit, sweets, you’re gripping me so tight.” he grunts, a boyish grin on his face as small uh uh uhs fill the room.

“Should we let you cum tonight? We can’t have you being a bitch tomorrow, it’s the end of hell week,” he jokes, and it almost feels humiliating, how he can make fun of you like this and you’re just going to keep fucking yourself back onto him.

“God- Fuck- Please!” you beg, with all the strength you can muster, and he can’t help but let a satisfactory grunt leave his lips.

“Look at you begging, don’t even have to ask now, do I?” and you can feel him twitch inside you. He’s also getting close.

“Ready?” he huffs, with the last little bit of stamina he has, and you can’t brace yourself enough for the wave of pleasure that washes over you with the last few snaps of Eddie’s hips as you come undone with a loud cry, echoing through the dark halls of the theatre.

“Fuck, okay, where should I–” he begins, he’s at his wits end.

“In…side,” is all you can say before he stills himself inside of you, letting his release take over him with a loud groan. His warm cum painting your inner walls, leaving you feeling satiated.

Eddie stabilizes his breath, forehead leaning against your shoulders, days on days of pent up frustration hanging like mist in the air. You’re both able to think clearly for the first time in what felt like forever.

“Jesus Christ,” he huffs, lifting himself off of you as he slowly slips his cock out. You can feel his cum beginning to drip down your thighs, your legs wobble as you attempt to stand. Knees buckling as you try and find your discarded panties.

“Whoa there, I got ya,” he wraps his arm around your waist, holding you against his warm chest. It felt good, leaning against him like that. But you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, “I’m fine Eddie.”

You push yourself off only to nearly fall once more, an annoyed grumble leaving his lips, “Are you always so stubborn?” He reaches down for your panties, guiding you to sit on the edge of the throne so he could help pull them up your thighs.

It was an unusually tender action, and not one that you expected from him. “Thought you didn’t want me sitting here?” You tease, his brown eyes glancing up as he’s kneeling before you.

“I’ll let it slide this one time,” he chuckles, the corner of his mouth lifting in a grin. A dimple you had never noticed before indenting his cheek, another feature that now found annoyingly attractive.

You roll your eyes at him and stand up, “Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow after rehearsal.” You quip, as you try to wobble off the stage, he runs after you.

“There’s no way in hell I’m letting you walk home like this,” and there’s a tender look in his eyes, something close to genuine concern. “My van is out front, I can drive you.” He points in a general direction behind him, and you want to say no so badly.

But you don’t, and now you find yourself being driven home by Eddie. His dingy van smells like cigarettes and weed and it squeaks every time he goes over a bump. There’s loud music blaring through the stereo speakers and an uncomfortable silence between the two of you.

“So uh, you excited for next week?” Eddie’s the first to break the silence, briefly turning towards you.

“I’m actually kinda nervous,” you admit, sinking into the seat. “It’s a big role, big shoes to fill. I guess I’m just scared I’m not gonna be any good.” You chuckle, almost embarrassed at your admission.

“You? Not good? I’ve seen you, y’know? I’m not just staring at your tits during rehearsal. You’re pretty darn good.” He gives you a half smile at that, pulling up next to your house.

You’re a bit flustered by his compliments, finding yourself not wanting to leave his company just yet.

“Thanks, Eddie. I appreciate it,” you smile at him.

“And hey, if you still feel nervous opening night come find me— I’ll help you,” he winks at you and you can’t help but laugh, as you see him looking at you with a big grin on his face.

You look at him back, and God, maybe it’s the streetlights or the moon, but he’s never been more beautiful. In a leap of courage you lean over the dashboard and peck him on the lips.

As you detach from him and reach for the door handle, he pulls you back in deeper, searing and intense, one of those kisses that have your tummy flipping. Except it’s not in the comfort of the theatre, and without an underlying motive behind it.

Just you and him. In his van.

You let your lips part, give him access to your mouth, but he stops you.

“It’s midnight,” he whispers against your lips. “Dress rehearsal tomorrow, you need to rest.” He smiles as you place another peck on his lips. Pouting as you reach for the door handle. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you until you’re inside, seeing the light of your room turn on.

Once he knows you’re safe, he starts his van back up and pulls away from your house with the cheesiest grin on his face.

Opening night. It’s finally here.

You should feel excited, and yet all you want to do is lock yourself in one of the broom closets and hide. You’ve never felt so nervous before, thinking of all the different outcomes that could occur. What if you forget all your lines? Or you have an embarrassing wardrobe malfunction during a quick change?

Your mind is reeling as you enter the dressing room, the rest of the cast buzzing excitedly around you. You fake a smile and sit at your station, noticing the bouquet of lilies resting on the counter top. You can feel yourself flushing, opening the card that came with it.

Break a leg Juliet xx.

You ask around the rest of the cast but no one knows who left them, and while you hoped they came from a certain metalhead… you couldn’t be so sure. Your little cat and mouse game had suddenly turned into something very real, and part of you was afraid it would be over once the curtains closed.

You get ready for the show in a daze, now staring at yourself in the dressing room mirror as nerves rage through your insides. The rest of the cast had dissipated, leaving you alone with your racing thoughts.

“There’s the leading lady,” Eddie’s voice snaps you out of your haze, meeting his eyes in the mirror’s reflection. He must have noticed the look of panic across your features, as he rushes to your side.

You give him a weak smile in return, letting a heavy exhale escape past your lips.

“So uhhh, did you like the flowers?” He asks, and he can see your eyes light up in the mirror, momentarily forgetting nerves, fear and anxiety.

“So it was you,” he coaxes you to face him, kneeling next to you with a large grin.

“T’was I, fair maiden.” He does a half bow from his kneeling position, making you giggle.

“So you’re in love with me now?” You tease, as Eddie’s hands come to rest on your thighs, spreading them as much as he can in your dress before moving in between them.

“I’m literally going to die from nerves, what if I mess up my lines?” you begin, but Eddie seems to have much different plans.

“There she is….” he murmurs, more to himself.

You feel the heat pool in your middle at his words, squirming a little in your seat. Eddie reaches to cup your chin, tilting it down so you meet his gaze. His brown eyes sparkling with mischief, “You know, my offer still stands Lady Capulet.”

“Here? The doors are literally opening in fifteen minutes, don’t you have stage manager things to take care of?” your tone is alarmed, rather, a mix of alarm and excitement.

“My job as stage manager right now is to make sure Juliet feels comfortable enough to go on stage,” he grins, peppering kisses over your hand and wrist.

“But what if we get caught? Or you make me cum so hard I forget my lines?” The nerves make you ramble, as his chin rests on one of your thighs.

“As good as I am at eating you out sweetheart, I doubt that’ll happen.” He bunches the fabric of your costume up your thighs, beginning to give sweet caresses on the skin of your legs.

You seem unconvinced, still.

“Look, I’ll sweeten the deal. If you get all your lines right, which I don’t doubt you will, I’ll take you out on a date.” His lips are pursed in a coy smile.

Your eyes widen, “Like a date date? You and me?” and your heartbeat picks up.

“Who else, idiot?” Eddie laughs, which makes you smile, “Now,” he begins.

“Do you want me to do something about those jangled nerves of yours?” And you can’t help but bite your lip and nod.

His lips begin trailing up your thighs, a shiver running through you from his tender actions. “But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?” He pauses, shifting closer as he switches sides, now leaving open mouth kisses along your opposite thigh. “It is the East, and Juliet is the sun.”

You feel your breath hitch in your throat as he works his way to your clothed center, his eyes flicking up to look at you. “Arise, fair sun and kill the envious moon… and whatever the fuck else Romeo says.” Eddie chuckles before eagerly pressing his mouth against your clothed pussy, his tongue lapping at the wet spot on the cotton.

A gasp bubbles deep in your throat at the sensation, feeling the bliss of his tongue through the cotton barrier, your body easing up from its nervous state.

He looks up at you, “Good, huh?” He hums through the fabric, and you’re wound up so tight you’re already panting.

He taps the side of your thigh to get you to lift your hips, removing your panties in the process.

A low whistle escapes him as you spread your legs for him again, “Talk about eating in costume, baby, jeez.” He chuckles, and the joke makes you laugh too.

A short lived laugh at that, turning into a breathless gasp when his tongue makes contact as he begins to lap up the length of your pussy.

Your hand immediately goes to tug at his curls, not caring that they’re tied up and out of his face to be able to see the cue sheets. The delicious pull at his scalp makes his eyes roll to the back of his head.

A low moan falls out of your lips, catching yourself, hand flying to your mouth as you hear the rest of the cast clamoring outside.

“Gotta be quiet, Lady Capulet,” he snickers as he goes back to burying his face between your legs. His tongue darting in and out of you as a hand reaches for your mouth, wetting two of his fingers.

You don’t hesitate to open up your mouth for him, a bite at the juncture between your pelvis and your thigh, “Atta girl.” He mumbles against the wet skin, popping his fingers out of your mouth to tease at your entrance.

“That’s it baby, focus on me.” A whine escapes you as you’re now grinding on his tongue, his fingers enter you slowly, head thrown back in pleasure.

“You nervous, baby?” He asks, a cocky smile on his face. His fingers curl upward, your eyes squeeze at the overwhelming sensation.

You shake your head, still sentient. Not too far gone yet.

“You gonna use me to get off, my lady?” His fingers are pumping faster, feeling tears brimming on your waterline, hoping to not spill all over your face, your stage makeup seems to be in precarious conditions.

A familiar warmth, deep in the pool of your tummy, “Don’tstopdon’tstopdon’tstop” You know how much he likes to hear you sing for him. His spare hand grabs onto your thigh, rings biting the soft skin there, feeling yourself teetering on the edge.

“Thaaaat’s it, you’re doing so well,” he whispers. One more pump of his fingers and you cum with a silent cry, biting onto your hand, feeling yourself pulsate around his fingers.

Without much warning he slips them out, sucking on his own fingers, tasting your own delicious essence.

“Places!” You hear Miss George say backstage, as Eddie retrieves your panties for you and slips them up your legs.

Eddie fixes his hair in the mirror, tying them back. He places a kiss on your cheek with a hurried, “Good luck— uh fuck I meant break a leg.” Then he furtively leaves the dressing room.

You feel a blush spreading across your body, finally relaxed and ready to begin the show.

You leave the dressing room, joining the rest of the cast, full of excitement. You know all your love monologues are going to be directed towards a certain metalhead tonight.

The show goes smoothly and you don’t forget a single line, you’re surrounded by family and friends, ready to do it all again the day after.

You go back into the dressing rooms to grab your stuff and change, but a long mop of curly hair occupies your chair.

“Eddie, you can’t be here!” you whisper, as he turns around with the biggest smile plastered on his face.

“Just wanted to tell my girl congratulations in private. You smashed it tonight,” you blush at the nickname.

“Since when am I your girl?” you ask, not letting him see how much it affected you.

“Since you kissed me in my van when I dropped you off, gorgeous.” He flirts, bottom lip trapped in between his teeth.

“So, how about that date?”

thank you for reading! comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

tagging: @thornsnvultures, @xxhellfirebunnyxx, @duuhrayliegh, @ali-r3n, @sunnythevampireslayer, @bimbobaggins69, @jamdoughnutmagician, @eiightysixbaby, @aphrogeneias, @daisy-munson, @gravedigginbbydoll, @s6raphic, @take-everything-you-can, @strangerstilinski

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #stranger things #eddie munson x you #stranger things fanfiction #stage manager!eddie munson x theatre kid!reader #eddie munson fluff

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inbabylontheywept · 7 months ago

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can we get more security clearance stories? they are amazing

Yeah, sure. Remember how getting contractors in to perform regular to the maintenance is basically impossible? One of the issues that we have is that the roof is kind of fucked. Like, in the newer sections, it's fine, and in the older sections, it leaks and we just have big barrels to catch the rainwater, and in the oldest sections there are actual holes. Which is crazy, because the oldest sections are where a lot of the tests happen. Those are almost always the most important parts of the facility. And the holes have been a problem for a while, but it is only "recently" (the last ten years) (yes, that is recent in government time) that the holes got big enough to fit birds.

So we have been getting birds into our secret facility.

This causes several issues.

The first issue is that, surprisingly, the people here are gentle, and they don't like seeing birds die. Some of the old hands are pretty jaded about it, and they have tennis rackets that they used to use for uh... bird removal. But the newer batch threw a fit when they suggested that, so now we have to make a big ordeal out of getting the birds out of the building. And if I sound bitter about it, I'm not - I am one of the people that said absolutely no bird smashing. But it is much easier to catch a bird than it is to just smack it out of the air.

(Another layer of difficulty is the whole "working in a labyrinth" thing. The birds have a lot of places to run.)

The second issue is that sometimes we can't get the birds out, and they die in weird places. This isn't just sad - it makes the test areas smell bad for weeks afterwards, and a lot of us spend the majority of our working hours in those locations. So it's sad and gross and stinky.

And the third issue, which is actually kind of the worst, is that government knows about the "perimeter leaks" (IE, large holes in the ceiling) and instead of fixing the holes, they put extra security measures in place. You know, in case spies climb in through the holes. Which means that, unfortunately, instead of getting the holes fixed, we got a state of the art alarm system, complete with motion detection lasers.

So the birds get in, and we actually can't leave until they get out, because they will, and have, and frequently do, trip the alarms. And when the alarms trip, people get called in to check the site and confirm for the 10,000th time that no, it's not Russians: It's birds.

It's always birds.

(Some of the techs actually kind of enjoy those calls during the weekends, because it means free overtime where there's literally nothing asked of them. Getting the "bird alarm" call is just 4 hours of OT where you check the test cell and confirm, no spies, just birds, then sit there and play checkers or read or whatever until the airforce base calls back and says that it seems safe enough for you to go home.)

(Engineers like those calls less, because we don't get time and a half, and we also don't need the cash quite as much as the techs do.)

Anyway, the crazy scenario is when it's like, 30 minutes to quitting, and a bird gets in. Because now we can't leave until we get the bird out. And the scene that happens is actually quite pretty.

So, the first thing that will happen is that there will be yelling downstairs. The downstairs people are always irate about birds getting in close to quitting. The anger is directed vaguely at the bird, and vaguely at the government, and more specifically at whatever absolute fuckhead bought us an alarm system instead of fixing our roof.

The majority of the crowd of grousing engineers and techs will then move into the upper offices. A couple will break off to grab the floodlight and shine it down the stairs, a few more will prop the doors open, and someone will venture back into the basement to turn off the light.

Click, the light goes off, it's dark, there's this big, warm, yellow pool of light just dripping down the stairs like a river of melted butter, and there's a crowd of tennish people + whoever is poking their heads out of the office to watch. No one will be breathing at all... and then, 9 times out of 10, a little bird will flit out of the basement, up the stairs, towards the light, and trigger the apocalypse.

Everyone chases the bird.

The goal at first is not to catch the bird. That's very difficult, and none of us have very good hand eye coordination. The goal is to thunder along and keep the bird from sitting down and having a breather.

We are there to exhaust the bird.

It is just accepted that this thundering herd will go wherever the bird goes. If your office door is open, and the bird flies in, it doesn't matter what reports you're filling out, or what phone call you're on - you are expected to deal with the panting and scrambling and general primal chaos of the hunting party until the bird goes somewhere else. Eventually, the bird will slow down enough that someone can catch it. This is a semi-coveted position, because, yes, you do get to hold a bird in your hand. And holding a bird is a wonderful thing. They are so soft, and so small, and you feel so careful with the poor thing. But also, it will bite you. Always. And the birds out here bite like needle nose pliers. It hurts so bad. I have been the guy holding the bird before, and it's this kind of beautiful scene again - to be standing there, hands cupped gently around this thing that is chewing the fuck out of the squishy webbing between my thumb and my palm. Tears streaming down my cheeks, surrounded by my little hunting party, that is telling me how much further until the nearest exit, opening all the doors for me. Hushed in the silence as they acknowledge my sacrifice. Inspecting the chomps afterwards and giving their opinion on how long it will be until it stops hurting.

I'm getting a little lost in the sauce here and don't really know how to end this. It's a really good job. Wouldn't be half as fun if it was run in a sane and competent manner.

I'll make this into a post at some point.

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lokisgoodgirl · 8 months ago

Text

Daylight Orgy: The Rite (IV)

Masterlist for The Rite is HERE My regular Masterlist is HERE Summary: (4) You confront Loki about Fandral - and the rules of the Rite are bent to breaking point. (w/c 4.1k) Warnings: 18+ only. Minors DNI. Asgard Loki! x FReader. Smuttish (+ 3rd party smut). Jealousy. Loki being a naughty prince.

Had you been expecting Loki to follow you?

That he’d thunder down those spiral steps and throw the bronze door open? Tear across the market square half-naked and yank you by the shoulders to say, ‘Stop – that scoundrel is a lying vagabond…’ ?

Yes, obviously.

But he didn’t.

You couldn’t settle back in your chambers. Picking things up, putting them down, moving to the window - always on edge for a knock that didn’t come.

‘The pleasure of the subject is only one part of the ritual. You cannot possibly fulfil the second.’

The fuck was that supposed to mean? Loki never mentioned a second part. As far as you knew, all you had to do was lie there and let him eat you out, not contain any enthusiasm, and try not to die from overstimulation. Sure…there might be other weird shit, it was the Asgardian Royals after all – but this seemed important.

If Fandral’s telling the truth, that is.

You frown, staring at a wiry bird shifting over the rooftops. Clearly, Fandral's a shit-stirrer. Clearly, he’s jealous, Loki had said as much. You’d be pretty jealous too if you were the only person in the inner-circle Loki hadn’t fucked over the past five centuries. An unexpected wrench of envy twists your stomach.

But the prince you’d seen in the Weaving Rooms was entirely different to the one that stared down from frescos and observed his worshippers with cool disdain. A smile that lit up his eyes, the inflection of a breathless chuckle as you caught him by surprise, a faint blush that could be mistaken as humble, the hesitant lust which thrummed beneath his skin as you’d pressed to him –

‘I need to see you,’ he’d said. ‘Every day from now until then.’ Like you meant something to him, and it felt…real.

Was it really a game? Would he pull the rug at the last minute before the ceremony? It was very on brand, you’d admit. The thought sends a violent shudder up your spine.

The next morning, there’s no knock at the door from Loki’s apprentice. No letters, no nothing. Anxiety creeps to anger, and with every inch the sun moves up the sky, your feet get itchier. Does he think I’m just going to sit around and wait for him? Fucking gods. Maybe I should just tell him no – then he’ll have do the Rite with Fandral, see how that works out. Serve him right.

But then… the thought of Loki crawling on top of that smarmy, coiffured arsehole invades your brain. Shit. You shift down the corridors of the court towards the interior palace. No one looks at you today. The golden doors of the main entrance to the royal quarters loom, and you swallow, heart loud in your ears. A guard side-steps in front of you with a cock of an eyebrow as effective as a raise of his hand. “I’m here to see Prince Loki,” you say. The eyebrow cocks higher. “You know how many people try that every day?” He looks down to your feet, and back to your face with a sneer. “Most of them dress better for the occasion. Or at least bring a bribe.”

You stare at him with heat creeping up your neck. “He knows who I am.” He laughs. “I bet he does.” “He does!” “Look…” The guard cups your elbow and ushers you to the side, glancing towards his peers at the other end of the door. “I don’t want to embarrass you, love. Just do yourself a favour, and leave.”

Your eyes narrow. “I’m here to see Prince Loki,” you say again, harsher this time. “Can someone just go and tell him I’m here? He’ll be pissed if he finds out you turned me away.” The guard flinches fractionally, studying your face. Eventually he leaves, and five minutes later, he’s back. “Come on,” he says gruffly. No apology, very nice. The gold door slams and the bustle of the outer court disappears. The air is cooler in here, a strange stillness hanging like perfume. More marble carves in large arches along the corridor, open to garden running up the middle of a courtyard. Somewhere, water trickles - but you can't see it. “He’s drunk,” the guard says without looking back. “Excuse me?” “The Prince. He’s drunk, and he has company.” You frown. It isn’t even midday. Suddenly your throat feels very tight, and you feel very small. If Loki had wanted to see me, he’d have asked. He’d have sent for me. So much for being aloof and interesting. Your irritation towards Fandral blooms with new fervour: not only has he ruined your excitement; he’s ruined your hot-girl-mystery.

The guard stops abruptly and you collide into his shoulder-guards. He clears his throat, stamping a staff twice.

You roll your eyes, shuffling around him. Through an open set of doors is a room like something from the whispered tales of olden Asgard. Chiffon flutters at the windows, long plush cushions lining the floor draped with blankets that shimmer in sunlight. In the corner, some blindfolded guy is plucking at a lute. Platters of nuts, grapes, sweet cakes lie half-demolished across the floor, and twice the amount of goblets as people. And then...your jaw goes slack.

Bodies shift in the room, two dozen, at least - all moving to their own rhythm like waves rippling to shore. A woman sits perched on the windowsill; you can’t see her face, only her legs wrapped around a man’s arse as he slowly thrusts into her. Her hair shimmers like spun gold; lips stained with rich juices while she pants to the ceiling. On the cushions, a man and woman lie side-by-side, kissing languidly as two other men busy themselves between their respective thighs. People are fucking…everywhere: sets of two, three, four. Norns. You’re trying to find somewhere to set your eyes that doesn’t involve breasts, or glistening body parts, or faces twisted in pleasure that you definitely shouldn’t be witness to. And then, they land on Loki. He's looking directly at you with a lazy, dark delight. The Prince lounges across a gilded chair in the corner; one thigh hiked over the armrest and the other stretched to its full length. His boots look more obscene on him than usual, today – sprawling like that.

The laces of his shirt are undone, dark tangles of hair spread over his shoulders and pearls of sweat glistening on his collarbone. With a mildly horrifying lurch of your stomach, you notice the ties at his groin are loose, too. But he’s not got someone squirming around his cock, and that’s something, at least. His lips move, but no sound comes out. You frown as he waves a hand, beckoning you through the doors. Dangling on the precipice of a flee, you feel one foot move in front of the other – and then your face feels like its slathered in jelly: cool, wet slime sliding over your skin. You lurch out the other side of the doorway with a gasp...and then the sound hits. Moans of pleasure ring to the high ceilings: grunts, mewls, groans of names you’ve never heard as they wring pitched ecstasy from each other. Loki’s smile grows. “Just a small silencing enchantment.” He shrugs and clicks his fingers. The door slams behind you. A few pairs of eyes flicker in your direction before re-focusing on their work. You can’t blame them – you’re entirely overdressed. Picking your way across the floor, you come to a stop beside him.

This…isn’t what you’d expected. He rests his head back, half-lidded eyes clouded by whatever’s swirling in his goblet. “You realise it’s not even midday?”

An impish smile lifts Loki’s lips, a flash of tongue nipping over the bottom one. “I am a second son of the crown, famed for hedonism and the sensual pleasures…how else should I fill my days?” Your eyes rise to the couple fucking on the windowsill. “Could we talk somewhere?”

A frown ghosts his forehead, and Loki reaches for your hand. His eyes have sharpened, and he looks almost sober. “We’re all friends here, it’s just…a release. A club, if you will. We can talk here, unless you’re uncomfortable.” Your tongue pokes against your cheek. You have no right to ask this, and yet, “Have you ‘released’ today, then?” One of Loki’s brows rise, lips rippling in a closed smile. “Yes.”

That jealousy you’d been fighting settles like a stone. Loki’s eyes slide between yours, slivers of sapphire sparking beyond deep pools of black. “Although not with any interference from another,’ he adds huskily. “I’m…saving myself, it seems.” “Oh?” “Mmm. Delayed gratification is a powerful lure.”

As the hum leaves his lips, Loki shuffles on the chair: back straightening and the leg hoisted on the armrest shifting. You try not to let your gaze drop to his crotch, but it’s a moth-flame situation. He’s hard, of course. Behind you, someone orgasms.

Heat pools in your lower belly, arousal blossoming like liquid shadow, and you know for a fact if you move – there will be a slip between your thighs. You’ve never been somewhere like this – sex has always been private, quiet. Loki’s looking at you with something close to innocence. Perhaps it’s the way you know there absolutely no way you can fuck him – no way for him to touch that hot mess gathering between your folds, and no way for you to suckle the head of his cock as he tangles those long fingers in your—

“Did you hear what I said?” You clear your throat, swallowing. “Sorry, I was…somewhere else.” “Mmm,” Loki hums again, brushing a finger by his lips to stifle a smile. He lowers his thigh from the armrest and pats it: once, twice. Like a magnet, you slide onto his lap. Across the room, a woman being fucked against a pillar frowns at you over her partner’s shoulder. An arrogant thrill soaks up your spine while Loki’s nose brushes down your cheek; lips lingering on the curve of your neck, his breath gloriously cool against the heat of your skin.

“What did you want to discuss, little owl? Here, in my den of debauchery.” His fingers dance up the folds of fabric at your midsection, cupping a breast and beginning to toy at the nipple. It feels so fucking good: too good. He pinches it gently, rolling against his thumb, knowing exactly what he’s doing; you exhale against his cheek, and it makes it almost impossible to whisper, “Fandral.”

The fingers still, and you can feel Loki frowning without even having to look. “What?” he growls. It’s all you can do not to grind against his thigh. He’s wearing a tight pair of leather trousers, so at least none of the mess between your legs, probably soaking through your dress, will get on his skin. But he might touch me. He pinches your nipple, eyes narrowing. A hiss erupts from your throat, tapering to a moan. “Fandral,” you say on the exhale. “If it’s not too much trouble, desist from moaning that rube's name in my presence, darling.” You frown. “He said you’re messing with me; said you don’t have any intention of us doing the Rite together, and that he’ll be the—”

Suddenly you’re airborne, Loki’s strong hands scooping you like a bag of feathers and manoeuvring you to one of the long pillows on the floor. He looms over you on his hands and knees; one set on either side of your left leg, a wild veil of black hair hanging around his jaw. His lips part, and the impossible muscles of his shoulders shift beneath the drape of that slutty shirt. “He will not,” Loki says. “Did that cunning little mouse say he was visiting Lagertha for any other reason than to have his doublet mended?” His breath is tinged with the sweetness of primrose wine. “You are my chosen partner; he has no sway in it – and certainly no say in it.”

The gravel of his voice is bass to the continuum of groaning that sings between pillars. Desire scorches your skin, tightening your thighs and twisting your stomach so taut it might snap. Your gaze shifts fractionally to the side, catching sight of a beautiful man with bronze hair glittering like a copper coin as his cock sinks inside against another man’s ass: again, again - a hand fastening to the back of his lover’s neck. The second man moans: guttural, primal. “Do you like that?” Loki’s breath licks the shell of your ear, his hands shifting the skirts of your loose dress up your parted legs like water. The digits slide down your arms, guiding them above your head. You can’t look away: the men are poetry together. The one taking everything the other has to give grips the back of a chair, his knuckles white, his jaw trembling and cock hard at his stomach as the fingers cradling his neck tighten.

If Loki can’t ravish you, if he can’t touch your cunt which aches for his tongue – then you’ll settle for his voice. And the heat radiating from the collar of his shirt. And anyway, you’re pretty sure his voice alone will make you climax in 3…2…1— “I want to know everything,” Loki says: dark, filthy, and…honest? Your pussy clenches so hard you almost whimper. “You’ve told me about your life, but now I wish to know your desires…your deepest fantasies. I crave that knowledge like an orgasm I cannot sate.”

His husk lingers heavy over any other sound, filling your mind with strange, inadvisable, thoughts of forever. “What you like,” he hums, “what you want…how I can pleasure you beyond anything you’ve shared with another, and how I can haunt every moment your mind wanders from now until eternity.”

The god’s lips graze your pulse point, and you can feel the thump of blood beating against his skin. “So, I ask again,” he says as the figures fucking in front of you blur, “do you like that?”

A stab of air rips down your throat as you gasp, “Yes.” Norns, right now you’d let him flip you over and sink into your ass in a second.

Without warning, one of Loki’s leather clad thighs presses against your clit. Sparks explode from your centre, tendrils of utter desire rippling across your body like the drag of a lit match. Fear widens your eyes, and amusement dances in his. “Your arousal cannot touch me through these,” he says coolly, taking his time over every syllable. “My hands remain here…” Loki’s eyes dart up to his fingers encircling your wrists, and squeezes. “My sword remains sheathed, and my leathers are merely...” He presses the flat of his lower thigh against your clit again, “A tool.”

“That’s cheating,” you say breathlessly. Loki’s lip twitches in a knowing smirk, a half shrug conveying, ‘What did you expect?’ “Don’t you want to play with me?” His eyes narrow, and another lance of need spears through your core. Your lips roll together, stifling a moan as your brows draw tight. “You’re drunk,” you say. But you don’t believe it. Loki’s pupils are still wide and deep enough to drown in, but it’s not the primrose wine. Unbelievably, it’s you. For now, you decide to let yourself imagine he doesn’t just need you for the Rite; that it could be more – that he could be yours.

The weight of his attention lies heavier in the air than the aroma of sex, and his thigh grinds against your pussy; catching the spot above your clit with each, gentle tug.

“Fuck…Loki,” you whisper, back arching off the cushion. His chin rises, smouldering beneath half-lidded eyes. “Talk to me,” he breathes. You want to dig the heel of your palm against his solid cock bound beneath the crotch of his leathers. You want to feel his animal god-lust pulsing under your hand - more fuel for the violently dirty fantasies you’ll create in your head later as you writhe beneath the sheets alone.

Loki tuts, squeezing your wrists again. You offer a weak, breathy struggle. “No, little owl. Not today, not yet. I want to be destructively engorged with the sight of you…denied what I want while I hear you come undone.” “Loki,” you whine again, face hot and a hum growing in your ears. This is crazy. And yet…

Loki’s thigh moves in wicked waves against your clit; his eyes burning into yours, those thin lips parted and flushed, and ragged exhales scraping from his throat like he’s sinking inside your cunt. “Talk to me,” he says again, but this time, it’s a beg. A silky voice sounds from behind his broad shoulders, accompanied by an immaculately shaped set of nails sweeping across his collarbone. The woman who was glaring earlier. She lowers to his ear. “Can I offer you relief, my prince? Since this one cannot?”

It’s hushed, but you were meant to hear it.

Loki doesn’t even look at her; his fingers stay curled around your wrists. “No,” he says through gritted teeth. She slinks away and the flames licking up your belly burn brighter. The meat of his thigh muscle stills, and the ache of its absence makes you frott against his knee.

“Talk to me,” he commands with an air of finality, chin lowering. “Tell me what you like, what you want.” Even if he let go of your arms, that stare would pin you in place. Every inch the prince; every inch the god – even in the middle of a daylight orgy.

“I want your mouth on me,” you whisper; squirming beneath his mischievous smirk. “I want it…slow, then heavier…then slower.” “Slow?” Loki hums, titling his head. That tongue darts over his lips. “And firm, but…soft. Wet. And loud…I want to hear you taste me.” Gods’ bones, has anyone ever been this ineloquent? But Loki doesn’t seem to mind. His face tells you he knows exactly what you mean; exactly how you like it. He’s imagining it, just as you are.

Your eyes dart to his crotch and the thick outline of his manhood strains against heavy creases. His hips shift, a small hiss filling the air between you. “What else?” he asks in a breathless voice that’s so unlike him. You bite your lip as his stare falls down your chest - flimsy drapes of silk threatening to expose your breasts. You wonder if he’ll let go of your wrists. And if he can control himself if he does. “And I want your cock, too…obviously.” “Obviously…” he goads with the spectre of a smile. The god leans forward, nudging the silk aside with his nose and capturing a nipple with a firm suck. Loki’s thigh begins to shift against your pussy again, and a strangled moan rattles in your throat. The groans of the men fucking a few meters away reach crescendo and they tumble over the edge in a sweaty, groaning slip of sex.

“I want you everywhere,” you gasp, losing any shred of remaining modesty with the smear of your heat against his leathers. “My cunt, my mouth, my ass—” “—Like them?” he stammers, thick brows drawn together. “—Like them. I want you so deep inside me I forget my own name, want your skin smacking my shoulders, want you pulling me onto your cock as you fuck me like I’m in heat and you can’t control it—” “—More,” Loki gasps, and your eyes fly open. His face is twisted with furious need, lines deep in his forehead, strands of onyx hair buffeting at his lips. His thigh slips against your slit – it’s absolutely soaked, and his hands tremble where he’s holding you in place. The words that shape your lips are calculated in their depravity: aimed to kill. “I want your cum dripping between my thighs; dripping between my breasts…” At that, Loki groans. “I’ll lick it off myself…before I suck you clean, and swallow everything you have left…my prince.” Loki’s jaw slackens like the orgasm shattering him is an unseen foe with a knife to his neck. The jolt in his hips sends the thick thigh driving against your clit and you crumble right alongside him with a garbled cry of his name. He falls on top of you in a mess of ferocious need; lips working, breath gasping from your lungs and the beat of his heart strong against your ribs. But still, his hands don’t leave your wrists.

“You are a wonder,” he breathes, galaxies swimming in his pleasure-drunk stare. And for a moment, you forget that you’re a means to an end; that after the Rite you’ll go back to being a nobody - and you believe him.

Loki barely has his wits back when someone clears their throat at the door. “Your brother - Prince Loki.” “My what?” “Your brother, the crown prince. He’s outside.” “Nine hels. What does he want?” Loki didn’t wait for the man to respond – he’d save the wretch that particular misery, and Loki’s misery at having to listen to the bluster of his explanation. He dips to your cheek, drawing his nose down the line of your cheekbone, inhaling against your sweat-damp skin. “I’ll return shortly,” he whispers. And below him, you shiver. A thrill spreads in sharp veins under his flesh. Loki strides past the guard looking at the ceiling while his cheeks flush an alarming shade of scarlet – and the door shuts quickly behind them. Thor stands with his arms folded, one ill-groomed eyebrow rising as he says, “Are the reports true? That your Rite partner is in there?” Loki can’t contain the eye-roll. “If you think I’m so foolish as to compromise myself at the eleventh hour before my ascension to the royal line; then truly there is no hope for you, brother. And she has a name, you know.” Thor’s gaze drops sceptically to his thigh. “What’s that?” He gestures to the glistening slick down one of the leather-clad quad muscles. Norns. “It’s not breaking the rules, I checked.”

With a flick of his fingers, the slick evaporates. And even though he’s sure (almost, sure), Loki rubs his fingertips together. Nothing. He breathes a secret sigh of relief. It would just be like Thor to ruin everything without actually intending to. “Of course you did, Loki. How studious of you.” “Can you spell that?” He snorts. “Besides, your partner was Lady Sif – you had centuries to cultivate the bond. And father and mother were partners…it’s a completely different situation. I must do what I must within the confines of the ceremonial rules.” “And whose fault is that, Loki? You could’ve had your pick of partners had you not rutted through them in a jamboree of wine and carnal gluttony.” Loki’s lip twitches, and he sucks the bottom one between his teeth. “I couldn’t have selected better if I’d had the centuries to spare, actually. Not all of us need hundreds of years to woo someone.”

The bemused crunch of Thor’s brow makes a flutter of satisfaction blossom in his chest. “I assure you, brother – all aspects of the Rite of Successional Pleasure will be fulfilled, I’m sure of it.” Thor's eyes narrow. “She’s been told of the second requirement?” “No, but I believe doing so will make it unnecessarily…challenging. She doesn’t need to know, she only needs to feel.” “You realise her feelings for you must come willingly. Un-influenced by magic?”

Loki glares, spine stiffening. “I shan't need to use my powers to wring pleasure from her body, why should I require it of her heart? Is that so hard to believe?” “In such a short amount of time? Yes, brother. I’ve known you over a millennia, and most days I still don’t care for you.” Loki’s fist flexes at his side as Thor, regrettably, continues. “The Rite is an expression of our benevolence to bestow pleasure on another freely, but it is also a test of our means to win their affections; their loyalty.” “And I will not fail,” he snaps. He and Thor stare at each other, unblinking, until his brother breaks first with a long, whittling sigh. “I hope you’re right, brother,” he says. “And be more careful, it would be unfortunate if you were to be undone by your own…passions, as usual.”

Heat prickles beneath Loki’s skin. “What would you know of my passions? Thor’s cape flutters as he turns, before glancing over his shoulder: ignoring him. “As much as it pains me, choosing Fandral as your partner for the Rite may be the wiser choice…it’s not too late. You know he already harbours those feelings for you – the deep ones the ritual requires. If there is any doubt, brother—”

“—There is no doubt,” Loki lies, fingernails digging in to the soft flesh of his palm. “I still have two moons until the ceremony– wars have been won in less.” He keeps his expression flat as Thor’s eyes soften. “If only love was as simple as war, brother,” he says in one of those rare displays of wisdom that make Loki want to punch him in the face. “She’s not one of us. I would say try not to break her heart, but it’s inevitable, is it not.” It isn’t a question. Loki swallows as his brother’s footsteps fade, glancing back to the golden door. He waves his hand, releasing the enchantment muffling the guard’s ears.

“Get her out of there,” he murmurs. “Escort her, offer my apologies; instruct her to change, and meet me in the gardens at sunrise.” "My prince, she will ask—" "—Sunrise," he snaps. A pain throbs behind his eyes.

The guard nods, and Loki tries to ignore the pulse of his heartbeat in his throat, and the unfamiliar itch of guilt spreading with every echoing thud of his boots around Asgard’s gilded halls.

Next Chapter: Illusion & Truth The Masterlist for The Rite is HERE Comments in tags ❤️ Plz be silly with me 🍰🥳

#the rite🕯️#loki x reader #loki smut #loki x female reader #loki x you #loki x reader smut #loki x you smut #loki x female reader smut #loki imagine #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki #loki marvel #loki x yn

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nakidoriii · 1 month ago

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I’ll Take You (Part One)

Alucard x Reader Mini Series

It had been another day of traveling for Alucard. He’d rather his feet be aching from walking than spending another second talking to dolls he had made of his friends. He found himself in a major city in Europe this evening, which made sense, starting this journey almost a month ago.

“I’m sure there’s plenty to do in a city as lively as this one.” He mumbles to himself, making a brief stop to scan the flyers on the town bulletin board.

“Traveling musicians from the West Indies… it would be a good idea to hear some music. I’ve been talking to myself for far too long. Social interaction would be good.”

Making his way to the tavern, he hears a distinctive song being sung by a perplexing voice. He had never heard anything like it. He follows the tantalizing sound of a woman’s voice, no an angels voice. The sound gracing his ears the closer he got to it. He finally laid his eyes on the source, your skin glistening in the moon light as you sang notes as softly as birds do. Alucard couldn’t tell if he was more amazed by your beauty or your ability to sing so impeccably. As the last note left your mouth, you opened your eyes. Immediately gasping, not expecting to see a blonde man staring at you at the end of the alleyway.

“Don’t be startled. I just heard you singing and I had to come see who was making such beautiful noise.” Quickly reassuring you that he’s not a threat.

“Oh, thank you very much.” As he stepped closer, you take in his striking features. His amber eyes, his long blonde hair that sat perfectly on his head, and his physique…he was quite the looker to you.

“Are you apart of the traveling musicians from the West Indies?” He softly asks, barely opening his mouth.

“I am. I mostly sing, but I also play harp. Are you here for the performance?” Your accent sticking out to his ears. It wasn’t your typical West Indie accent. It sounded like a collaboration of dialects forced into one person.

“I am. It’s a pleasure to meet you….” He paused waiting for you to say your name.

“Y/N.” You admit.

His cold hand reach for yours as he bows while kissing your knuckles and says, “I’m Adrian.” His amber eyes locking onto your (eye color) ones, delicately releasing your hand.

“The pleasure is mine Adrian. I have to be on stage in a few minutes. May we talk more after the show?”

“Yes, please find me. I look forward to it.” You look back as you open the back door into the building taking in his beauty one last time before you perform.

He heads into the tavern, leaning his back against the further wall to get the best view of the stage. You walk out carrying your compact harp, gracing everyone with your beauty. The crowd of evidently drunk men start to cheer. Gliding your fingers against the strings to start the song, the audience quiets down. Your voice complimenting the angelic sound of your instrument makes Alucard’s heart skip a beat. Completely engulfed by your sound, he hadn’t felt like this in years. You make eye contact with him as you play the last chords of the song. The audience bursts in applause.

“Thank you very much. Up next we have our drummers of the west indies.” You walk back stage out of Alucards sight.

Every other act, he got to see you in your true habitat. He could watch you all night and that’s exactly what he did. He stood there waiting for you as the tavern eventually cleared out the later it got. The tavern filled with only regulars now. You make your way over to him with your harp strapped to your back as he flashes you a closed mouth smile.

“Did you like the show?” You look up at him with pleading eyes.

“It was beautiful. You’re very talented, truly one of a kind. You should be performing in halls, auditoriums even. Bravo, darling.”

“Handsome and kind, you’re a rarity. Where are you from Adrian?” Alucard smirks at your compliment, his smile growing alittle bit wider. You get glimpses of his sparkling teeth, his canines looking sharper than average.

“Romania. It’s very cold there. I’m assuming you haven’t been.”

“I have not, but I would love to go one day. You see, I want to travel the whole world. Both my parents were traveling musicians, so it’s ingrained in me. Why do you travel?”

“Bored.” He lets out a small giggle and smiles even wider. “Would you want to go for a walk?” He adds in a low whisper, right next to your ear.

You’re succumbed with goosebumps as his cold presence got closer to you. Alucard knows you can see his teeth and yet you still stand in front of him, nodding your head yes to leave the tavern.

“You’re not afraid?” His breath hitting the side of your neck, jump starting your pulse. Scared was the last emotion you felt. You wanted him.

“If you wanted to do anything, you would’ve done it in that alleyway.” You whisper back.

——————————————————————————

This part one of this mini series!! I took the answers from the poll serious guys. Part one is fluff so you already know part two will be smut.

CLICK HERE FOR PART TWO!

Give me a follow for more one shots and fics :)

Please do not alter or steal my writings ©️

#alucard #alucard castlevania #castlevania nocturne #castlevania #alucard fluff #adrian tepes #adrian tepes x reader #adrian tepes x you #alucard x reader #fluff #nakidoriiiwrites #y/n #x reader #alucard is so cute #alucard is everything #black writers #black writer #black coded reader

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starmocha · 2 months ago

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When you accidentally notice a running theme in your writings 👉👈

For those wanting to scratch that special itch (so to speak), I curated this list of all of those...special fics and scenarios of mine if you're looking for a specific something-something (read: breeding kink 😈 and/or family fics 🥹). Please be mindful of the ratings. Yes, there will be more in the future, I've accepted my fate. 😔🫶

LINKS: Regular Masterlist ⋆ ★ Series Index ⋆ ★ Tag List ⋆ ★ AO3

last updated: feb. 24, 2025

FAMILY FICS (SFW)

Featuring the LADS men as fathers. Most stories will center primarily around fatherhood, but some may just be a short scene. While the majority are SFW, the ones that aren't will have MDNI listed alongside them.

sing little birdie

Stories about Sylus and his three-year-old daughter. status: ongoing indefinitely // updated sporadically 01. Rock-a‐Bye 02. Hide-and-Seek 03. Little Dino 04. Be My Valentines — random scenarios: 01. Taking Little Birdie to the Amusement Park 02. Daddy is a Kitty?

standalone fics & scenarios

— fics: Sunday Reset i'm on the run with you, my sweet love — 《 MDNI 》 — random scenarios: Risky Pregnancy + Deaths of Mother and Child Risky Pregnancy

sweet little snowdrop

Stories about Zayne and his three-year-old son. status: ongoing indefinitely // updated sporadically 01. 12:30 PM Checkup 02. Carrot Cake 03. Doctor's Note

standalone fics & scenarios

— random scenarios: Risky Pregnancy + Deaths of Mother and Child Risky Pregnancy

pretty little coral

Stories about Rafayel and his three-year-old son. status: ongoing indefinitely // updated sporadically [coming eventually i have writer's block for the fishie lol help]

standalone fics & scenarios

— random scenarios: Risky Pregnancy + Deaths of Mother and Child Risky Pregnancy Decorating Nursery

bright little starlight

Stories about Xavier and his two-year-old daughter. status: ongoing indefinitely // updated sporadically 01. Time-Out

standalone fics & scenarios

— random scenarios: Risky Pregnancy + Deaths of Mother and Child Risky Pregnancy

[CALEB - FUCK. YOU GUYS DIDN'T GIVE ME TIME TO MAKE A GRAPHIC FOR HIM YET BEFORE THE IDEAS CAME :( ]

standalone fics & scenarios

— random scenarios: Risky Pregnancy + Deaths of Mother and Child Risky Pregnancy Endless Summer Sweet Little You

[MISC]

standalone fics & scenarios

— random scenarios: When U Come Back (Caleb/MC/Zayne)

BREEDING KINK (MDNI)

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) baby making time yes i'll probably get to the others eventually it depends on my demon, i mean my muse........

SYLUS

— light breeding kink Relentless Conqueror want me, need me, love me — intense breeding kink Elysium birds of a feather (series) 01. but if it's forever, it's even better 02. it was always you 03. epilogue (coming...eventually) Bride of the Dragon King (series - in epilogue only) 01. Prelude 02. Bride of the Dragon King (coming soon) 03. Epilogue (coming soon) — random scenarios: Horny Tribal!Sylus Thoughts

ZAYNE

— random scenarios: Lesson Learned (?)

RAFAYEL

PLACEHOLDER <3 WILL HAVE THE FISHIE BREED US WHEN I AM LESS OF A COWARD ABOUT WRITING SPICY RAF LOL intertidal zone does make me want to help repopulate lemuria i mean what

XAVIER

PLACEHOLDER <3 BLORBO BY PROXY THE MAN THAT YOU ARE devs i want to suck his thumb (and his cock)

CALEB

PLACEHOLDER <3 THE 3-PART CALEB BREEDNG KINK SERIES OF MY DREAM WILL COME TRUE EVENTUALLY

All Love and Deepspace fanfics are posted only on Tumblr (@starmocha) and AO3 (loveppears (108am)). They will always be cross-posted to one another. Stories are prohibited from being posted elsewhere and I do not allow translations of my works under any circumstances. Reblogs are ok and encouraged! ♡

Thanks for reading! ☆

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twinkling-moonlillie · 4 months ago

Note

Headcannons for Hawks fluffy but little be suggestive if possibly alright.

~🩷

A/n: Yes yes yes yes, I love this. This isn't super long but I hope you enjoy. Nothing makes me happier than receiving requests!! This was a much needed distraction. I have another request I am almost done with too, so expect that Friday.

Hawks Headcanons Part 2: Fried Chicken Boogaloo

Warnings: Suggestive

Keigo wasn’t a jealous or possessive guy, but he loves being able to mark up your neck with lovebites. Not only was it enjoyable to see you writhe when he had his lips on your neck, but he felt proud knowing that people were aware that you’re his.

Keigo is very perceptive of everything going on around him, which works to his advantage when gift giving is one of his top love languages. He is able to notice the way your eyes linger on a certain necklace or outfit and loves to surprise you with those items later on. He is so keenly aware that he notices when something is bothering you.

And although sometimes he isn’t able to thoroughly articulate the comfort he desperately wants to give, he DOES conveys it through his actions.

Hugs are 10x better with his wings; it’s like a second pair of arms keeping you warm.

One of the things he delights in the most is when you share parts of your normalcy with him. Sharing stories about your day while nuzzled up on the couch, or agonizing over an essay due at midnight, or even going to the grocery store. He adores it all because they are the things he lacked as a child, the things he currently lacks as a hero. Keigo doesn’t care if it’s mundane.

Keigo has a habit of singing or humming when cooking or doing chores.

PET NAMES! Oh my god does this man love pet names. He is particularly fond of calling you his little songbird or lovelark. But he does use regular pet names as well, such as darling and baby.

He is absolutely smitten over the intimacy of skin-on-skin contact, whether that be through sex or something else. When you two sleep together, he sheds all of his clothes hastily - or if it’s right after sex he makes no move to retrieve his clothes. He is also fairly certain he can keep you warmer than any pesky clothing item you may have.

This man, this fucking BIRD, loves kissing you. Anywhere will do, just as long as it is somewhere. Sweet little kisses on the forehead after a bad day, steamy kisses as he pins you against the wall, loving kisses when you have to part for a significant period of time (anytime away from you is a significant amount), morning kisses painted with streaks of gold, night kisses memorizing curves of your body, ALL OF THEM. HE NEEDS THEM ALL.

#keigo takami #hawks #hawks x reader #keigo x reader #keigo takami x reader #mha x reader #My hero academia #suggestive #hawks smut #reader insert #requests #fluffy #boku no hero academia

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lizhly-writes · 4 months ago

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based off this post. and this line, because i am going insane:

it’s okay, an ding disciples are allowed to unlock the top rights when they grow up, they take after their dad!

introducing: hallmaster jiang and disciple wu!

The peak lords of Cang Qiong were not meant to be Shang-shixiong's personal harem, but that seemed to be what was happening anyway. This was not something that Jiang Yunyan usually minded -- he normally found it incredibly amusing -- but. But.

"Disciple Wu," Jiang Yunyan said. "That is not how you are supposed to solve your problems."

"But it worked, though," muttered the little disciple that he had pulled aside after hearing about said disciple's escapades.

Wu Youxuan had been an entirely normal An Ding disciple, if one with the unfortunate tendency of getting roped into fights against Bai Zhan disciples. While he came out of these fights without too much damage, it was still disruptive to his regular tasks and duties. It was becoming a problem.

A problem that Wu Youxuan had apparently gotten advice about from the An Ding Peak Lord.

"You seduced five Bai Zhan disciples," Jiang Yunyan said.

"It's an overstatement to call it seduction," Wu Youxuan said. "This disciple simply... said a few words."

'Said a few words'. If he was following the direction of Shang-shixiong, Jiang Yunyan could very well imagine what kind of words. "Is that so?"

"Well --" Wu Youxuan began, and then his head abruptly snapped to the side, the movement not unlike that of a cat suddenly catching sight of a flock of birds.

Jiang Yunyan followed his line of sight to see that this was almost exactly what had happened. There was a pack of Bai Zhan disciples who had been passing by, all of which had frozen under Wu Youxuan's gaze, which had shifted from 'sullen boy getting reprimanded' to 'boy with enough arrogance to drown the world'. The way he tilted his head, the way he smirked -- it was all... strangely familiar.

When Jiang Yunyan recognized it, he didn't know whether to laugh or cry. That was the exact bearing Shang-shixiong had worn when Jiang Yunyan had almost walked in on him seducing Liu Qingge.

Shang-shixiong was so annoying. Why was he like this? Furthermore, if he had to be like this, did he have to set this kind of example for the disciples?

"Hi," Wu Youxuan drawled, and fluttered his fingers almost teasingly at the Bai Zhan disciples, who were all turning various shades of red and starting to scatter. Most of them, anyway. There was one entirely unaffected disciple who made a rude hand gesture at Wu Youxuan before almost pointedly turning his back on him.

Wu Youxuan's smirk dropped.

"Do you have a particular disagreement with that disciple?" Jiang Yunyan said.

"No, that's just Chen-shidi," Wu Youxuan said. "I think he's mad at me. He won't talk to me anymore. Which is fine. I don't need him to talk to me. He's an asshole, anyway. Who needs him? Jerk."

None of these words seemed to stop him from staring longingly after that Chen-shidi as the other boy stomped off.

Was it that Wu Youxuan seduced all Bai Zhan disciples except for the one he was actually interested in?

"Did Lord Shang's advice not work on Disciple Chen?" Jiang Yunyan said, vaguely amused.

"I didn't try it on Chen-shidi," Wu Youxuan said, in the voice of a boy desperately trying not to sound miserable at the fact that his crush was ignoring him.

"You specifically didn't seduce Disciple Chen?"

"It's not seduction," Wu Youxuan said immediately and then, a little more hesitantly, "Jiang-laoshi thinks I should try it on Chen-shidi...?"

That was not what Jiang-laoshi had said at all.

"If I seduced him -- not that it's seduction -- he can't ignore me anymore," Wu Youxuan said, warming up to the idea. "He'd have to talk to me again." A pause. "Not that I care about that.

Fucking teenagers.

"Yes, you obviously doesn't care at all about that Disciple Chen," Jiang Yunyan said dryly.

"Right," Wu Youxuan said, sarcasm flying over his head in the face of his newfound determination to seduce his crush. "May I be excused, Jiang-laoshi?"

Shang-shixiong was such a bad example.

Jiang Yunyan contemplated what he could say. Have you considered your crush is mad because you're seducing other people? You shouldn't use seduction to solve all your problems. An Ding is getting such a strange reputation nowadays. Stop listening to Shang-shixiong, he's a terrible role model.

In the end, all he said was, "You're dismissed."

Wu Youxuan nodded sharply, and spun on his heel, settling into the graceful stalk of a predator after prey.

That Disciple Chen was in for an interesting time.

#my writing #svsss #well. technically #contains no canon characters #i only mention shang qinghua in here #jiang yunyan #wu youxuan #neither of those two are new ocs! :D

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the-greek-mulan · 5 months ago

Note

Hey hey andra!!

*hands over a basket of fresh fruit and some flowers from the garden*

I picked them for you <3

[ARIS]

Awe- Aris you didn't have to!

Y'all are too sweet giving me beak rot over here

Shush you're salty you're single you bird.

PHOENIX- PHOENIX- Not bird! I don't do that egg thing.

#andras the man!#yes i am a regular bird

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ashdreams2023 · 10 months ago

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Hiii, could I request a severus snape and little sister reader where she's the opposite of him and so all the students love her until someone insults him one day and she's all snarky and a miniature version of snape and everyone's like ".....maybe they are alike....." while severus looks on like a proud parent??? I love your fics so much!! Thankss!!

The same tree

Severus snape x professor sister reader

The student body was in shambles the day you were announced as a new staff member, the name snape was enough to send shivers down some students backs.

They barely handled one snape, let alone two!

Everyone expected the worst, 2.0 snape female version then you got to your first class, it wasn’t like anything they had in mind.

Heck you gave house points and they paid attention to the lessons.

"She’s human, oh my god she’s not evil!"

It spread pretty quickly how nice and patient you were, you didn’t show any favoritism towards anyone nor did you encourage any rivalry in your class, as long as they passed it was a win for you.

Your office hours were filled with students coming to you for help, some even asking for help of topics other than what you teach, sometimes asking about stories of your youth but none dared to ask about your brother.

But there were times were kids can get way too comfortable in matters that have no business with them, unfortunately for a certain fourth year Ravenclaw he learned his lesson the hard way.

"I can’t believe that git took points because I added a point to his lesson! It’s fucking ridiculous, he’s a selfish idiot who only wants his way and everyone else is wrong"

"Jesus calm down mate, it’s only ten points you’ll live and he’s like the professor so…"

The Ravenclaw rolled his eyes "I know the book, I read it piece to piece I know my way around this stuff, he’s just one bitter old son of a bitch-"

"Excuse me you little bird" the boy froze as he felt a hand touching his shoulder, he looked up to meet your piercing dark eyes, they had the dangerously familiar feeling to those of their potion master.

"Professor i-"

"No no no…go on, continue what you were about to say so the oh so great Ravenclaw knows everything, because what? Because you read an outdated, basic, dusty ass potion book"

The boy swallowed, your tone was so different, you weren’t smiling and it reminded him of being schooled by severus snape himself.

"Why so quiet? Snake got your tongue?" You smiled proudly at the look of terror on the boy’s face "Let this be a lesson to you little bird, my brother is no idiot and without him little airheads and know it alls would be dead by now, so know your place, am I understood?" You tightened your grip on his shoulder.

"Yes ma’m!"

"And 30 points from Ravenclaw for showing disrespect to faculty staff members"

The boy’s jaw dropped but didn’t dear argue back and sprinted away with his friends, you couldn’t care less that students were watching, they call all spread rumors or whatever.

"Oh my god…she is like him…"

"Shush she’s gonna hear you! At least now we know not to overstep it"

You sighed and left the great hall, you pumped into your brother by the end of the day, he arched an eyebrow at you when you causally sat down and sipped your tea.

"I see you’ve made quite the impression today"

You shrugged "They’re just stupid kids, it was about time they learn anyways"

Severus leaned back on his armchair "You sound awfully familiar to me, I suppose I am rubbing off on you"

"The apples may look different but they all belong to the same tree" you smirked.

"You’re still terrible at potions though" He remarked knowing well how atrocious you were at his best interest.

"Hey! I was defending your honor"

You glared at him and he glared back then after a few seconds of intense looks you two snorted at each other and went back to having your regular sitting for the day.

Thank you for your kind words and glad you do 🥰

#imagine #pro severus snape #severus snape x y/n #platonic severus snape x reader #severus snape fanfiction #severussnape #harry potter requests #severus snape headcanon #severus x reader #severus snape x you #severus snape x reader #severus #severus snape #snapedom #pro severus

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nonasuch · 3 months ago

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Miss Universe National Costume 2024, Part 2!

Splitting this off into a new post so I'm not clogging up everyone's dash quite as much.

Miss Malta is some sort of environmental protection Sailor Scout. I think the giant bow would look better on the back of the skirt but otherwise this is solid.

It has just come to my attention that I skipped over Miss Albania and several other A/B countries, back at the beginning. I sincerely apologize! She went to all this trouble putting together a Fifth Element cruise ship passenger costume, and I nearly missed it.

Miss Armenia, in what even I have to admit would be a legit Princess Leia fit.

Miss Bahrain, adding some green to her Gold And Vaguely Historical look, along with what is either a comically large prop chalice or an upside-down lamp.

Miss Bangladesh appears to believe that adding two plush tigers from the toy store around the corner from the pageant venue will conceal the fact that she is just wearing a tiger-print evening dress. Miss Bangladesh is incorrect.

Miss Belgium. Girl. No.

Miss Belize let the seventh-grade art class do her whole costume, which was a bold choice.

Okay, I think that's everyone I missed! Back to alphabetical order. And I should have to rely less on shitty screenshots, now. Some countries were benefiting from the low resolution, tbh.

Kind of feel like Miss Maldives had a luggage mishap and she's just wearing the outfit she packed for a slightly dressy dinner.

Miss Martinique's costume would honestly have looked better in the shitty screencap version. The construction is... bad. It's bad.

Feel like we're in a little bit of slump here. Miss Mauritius did not stick enough butterfly appliqués to her gown to conceal that it is, in fact, just a regular evening gown.

Slump officially over! We are so back. Everyone say thank you, Miss Mexico.

I would like this better if it had just committed to the giant skirt and not felt the need to make it a Sexy Miniskirt look. Sorry, Miss Moldova.

Miss Mongolia wanted to stand out from all the other gold armor on stage, so she decided to a) wear cooler armor and b) bring a bow and arrow instead of a sword. Great work, Miss Mongolia.

Starting to feel like I'm picking on the smaller countries that probably don't have a huge pageant culture or the budget for really elaborate costumes, but on the other hand Miss Montenegro's costume is super low-effort AND the fabrics look cheap, so what am I supposed to do?

Okay, this looks like a pretty standard Miss Universe Sexy Bird, yes? Well, THIS is how Miss Myanmar entered the stage:

She had to fight her way out of that thing! God only knows what the visibility was like in there.

I think the hat is doing most of the heavy lifting to keep Miss Namibia's costume from being Just An Evening Dress, sadly.

Oh, yikes. It's more obvious in motion but Miss Nepal's bodice looks like it's made of craft foam and it fits real weird. The rest of it looks a little like she got together with Miss Cyprus and a pile of tablecloths for a sewing bee last night, I'm sorry to say.

Miss Netherlands has chosen a Tribute to Delft. I think if I were in charge of this costume I would do a much fuller skirt that falls from the waist, instead of the weird trumpet-skirt-with-hoop we've got here. And, obviously, I would make the windmill on the bodice actually spin.

It looks like she's having some issues keeping the wings and peplum in place, but I really like Miss New Zealand's costume from a design perspective. It at least slightly resembles the bird it's supposed to be (New Zealand fantail) and I think the feather pattern is meant to be in a Maori art style.

Miss Nicaragua is a Sexy Cathedral, which I think might be a Miss Universe first and is definitely a big old step closer to drag.

Okay, pausing here to get the next batch ready.

#miss universe national costume

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cautotelic · 1 month ago

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Chapter 5: Been Like This

Ambessa Medarda x Reader

Synopsis: When you get taken away from your home land and thrown into the palace of the infamous warlord, will things be as bad as they first seemed?

CW: SMUT (what we've all been waiting for), kinda fluff, Ambessa being downright downbad, yes the title is from that Doja Cat song 🤨

A/N: enough with the sadness, let the tension end. please leave more replies/comments I LOVE reading them and knowing y’all enjoy the story:))

The next few days go by painstakingly slow. I help the physicians with tending to the injured warriors. I’m back to avoiding Ambessa, still somewhat upset with her. Whenever I think about her I’m drawn between being so frustratingly angry at her and just wanting to thank the fact she’s, in her words, alive and well.

Whenever I get the chance during the day I’ll go into my room and try to get a bit of sleep before leaving for the night, knowing that Ambessa has been residing in my room. Maybe she’s hoping that I’ll come back at the same time she's there, but I doubt that.

Currently I’m outside of the estate collecting snow in a bucket to take inside for the physicians. Being in my own thoughts I don’t hear the crunching of snow beneath boots coming from behind me.

“You should really wear a coat out here, little lady.”

I smile. “You want to give me a hand or are you just going to stand there and look pretty?”

The crunch of snow grows closer before Rictus’s big, burly form comes into view. He settles himself behind me and pulls something out of his cape, a blanket.

I hold my hand up. He continues to unfold it. “The General would have my head if I let you get frostbite out here.”

“Why does she bother?” I mumble as I feel the weight of the blanket being placed around my shoulders. I will admit that I am thankful for the blanket.

Rictus hums as he takes the bucket out of my hands and begins shoveling in the snow with his own gloved hands. “She has a weird way of showing it, but she really does care about you. It’s the reason she brought you here,” he admits.

My brows furrowed in confusion but Rictus continued. “She and your father had a meeting negotiating trade deals and land disputes, the regular diplomatic conversations,” he says and I nod. “I remember you standing in the corner of your fathers office, just a tiny little thing, barely noticed you were there. But when we got back on the airship, you were all she could talk about.”

“She sent your father a letter asking if he would trade you for extra trading goods. He refused and she threatened him with war.” The bucket of snow is full so Rictus stands, I copy his movements as we start to make our way back to the estate. “Of course she knew of your power and wanted you to train her soldiers, but she also saw how miserable you looked, like a bird trapped in a cage. Her stronger feelings for you only transpired after you arrived.”

We step back into the estate and hand the bucket of snow to the physician standing there. I watch her leave before turning to Rictus. “Why are you telling me this?”

“So you understand why I have to do what I’m about to do next,” he utters, a hint of guilt showing in his expression.

“What-“

In an instant I’m scooped up and thrown over his shoulder as he begins walking down the hallway. A small gasp comes out as I am disoriented. “Rictus put me down. Where are you taking me?” I protest.

My struggling does nothing to sway him into putting me down. “The General hasn’t slept for a week because of you and personally, I don’t enjoy being yelled at,” he grunts as he readjusts me on my shoulder.

The realization hits me. He’s taking me to Ambessa. I start hitting his back. “Rictus, put me down now. I don’t want to see her,” I declare.

I protest the whole way until we walk into a room lined with bookshelves. He sets me down on my feet and I turn around to face Ambessa who is sitting at her desk. The surprise on her face tells me that all this was all by Rictus’s own doing.

“General,” Rictus nods towards Ambessa before walking out of the room, leaving us together.

The tension in the room is so thick you could cut it with a knife. I stand awkwardly in the center of her study as I shift from foot to foot. Her study is just as warm and inviting as her bedroom. Throw blankets adorn the couch sat in front of the fireplace and soft rugs cover the floors.

I look up at Ambessa and she isn’t looking at me but I can tell she’s tired.

“I don’t know why he brought you here, I told him, and everyone else for that fact, not to bother you,” she states coldly as she writes something down in the ledger on the desk.

Just hearing her talk and being in her general vicinity has all my anger resurfacing. I let out a chuckle. “You’re a real piece of work, you know?” I accuse as I stalk towards her desk.

She stops writing, folds her arms, and leans back in her seat, an amused expression playing on her face. “Oh you're in no position to talk about being a piece of work, but please, do tell.”

I bite the inside of my cheek, growing irritated. “You are so incredibly maddening. I cannot fathom how anyone gets anything done around here with you.” When I get close enough I trail my hand along the edge of her desk. “For the past month I spent the whole time believing you were dead, hoping you weren’t so I could do it myself. But now…” I sigh as I look at her, looking for answers to the ache I feel deep in my bones. “I can’t even find the strength to stay mad at you.”

Our eyes lock and I wonder if there is just as much emotion in my eyes as there are in hers. I draw closer to her slowly, unsure and uncertain. Reaching out I touch her cheek with the backs of my fingers softly.

She leans into the small touch before grabbing my hand and pressing kisses to my palm. “Forgive me… please.”

My body leans towards her hesitantly, eyes darting between her lips and her eyes. I gently press my lips to hers, my own silent apology and many words unspoken. I feel her smile into the kiss as she lets me lead. My own repressed desires surface as I move to press myself closer to her. Ambessa stands from her desk chair, breaking our kiss as her hands come under my thighs and lift me onto the cool wood of her desk. My hands move on their own accord touching any part of her that I can. She chuckles at my eagerness before lifting her shirt off, her bindings going with it. I stare at her for a good second admiring her as her hands go to the bottom hem of my shirt. She looks at me, waiting for me to push her away, to close myself off again.

I don’t.

I mutter a soft ‘yes’ and she takes my shirt off. Unlike our kiss in the library, her fingers find my skin, going over the scars on my chest and torso. Under her observant gaze I feel self conscious and I curl in on myself.

Ambessa notices this and makes a noice of displeasure. Her head dips back down and her lips brush against the shell on my ear, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine. “Do you know how turned on you make me, sweetheart? Hm.” She hums as she nuzzles her nose into the crook of my neck. I shake my head and she groans. “Too much. I get all hot and bothered when you're fully dressed, so don’t worry about this,” she says, her hands trailing up my sides. “You're perfect.”

Her lips find mine again as she lifts me off the desk and walks us over to the big couch in her study. Laying me down on the couch she makes quick work of my pants as well as her own. She leans down and sucks on the skin of my neck, leaving dark marks that will stay. Her hand travels down, down until it touches my waiting core. She teases, circling her fingers around my clit. I let out a frustrated whine and she chuckles.

“So impatient,” she hums, kissing my ear.

She’s merciful and slowly enters her fingers. Her pace starts out slow and deliberate, sinking them in before, dragging them almost all the way out, before doing it over again. I sigh, pleased that she’s finally touching me but wanting her to speed up.

My hands come around to her back, grabbing as much of her as I can before pushing her into me. I turn my head to it’s right by her ear. “I know you love me, but I want you to fuck me like you hate me,” I nearly demand.

She chuckles into my skin. “I would be careful what you ask for, little one,” she purrs as she bites down onto the space between my neck and shoulder. She speeds up the thrusts of her hand as she curls her fingers up and brushes that spot inside me. I gasp. She mimics my face and sound. “There,” she says breathily. “Is that what you wanted? Hm. To be treated like this, like a toy for me to use?”

I let out a strangled moan into her ear. My noises only egg her on as she fucks me. My nails dig into her back.

“So fucking wet, your basically swallowing my fingers. You dirty, dirty girl,” she says as she leans away from me looking down at my sopping cunt.

She uses the thumb of the same hand to gently circle my clit, light and slow motions. She watches her own fingers disappear inside me, she damn near moans at the sight. I quickly shut my legs closed at the sensation, feeling overwhelmed. She roughly pushes them back open as I feel her go deeper.

“Fuck…” I sigh. It’s all too much, her, my body. I reach my hand down to grab at her wrist. For what exactly, I’m not sure, but the coil in my stomach is winding tighter and tighter, I feel like I might burst.

Ambessa looks down at me with a dark expression on her face as she grabs both my wrists in her free hand and holds them against my stomach, leaving me helpless as she tortures my body.

“Mm that’s much better, don’t you think, little one?” She chuckles as she bullies her fingers into me at an unforgiving pace.

The sounds leaving my mouth are absolutely, downright shameful. But I can’t find it in me to care right now. Moans and whines leave my lips but Ambessa swallows them in a kiss.

“Please please ple-ah,” I jolt as she hits that spot. She takes notice and focuses on repeatedly hitting that spot as her circles on my clit fasten.

The coil begins to fray, the pressure too much. “A-ambessa stop I-“ I’m cut off by my own moan.

She looks down at me and hums. “Are you close? Going to make a mess for me, pretty girl?” She coos.

I struggle against her hold trying to get away from her and the feeling in my stomach as my breathing grows ragged. I cry out as my orgasm washes over me, my back arched, Ambessa smiles as she fucks me through it.

When it’s finished I close my eyes and regain my breathing. I stay like that for a while, my hands coming to cover my face.

Before I can even open my eyes again I’m being flipped onto my stomach, my chest being pushed into the couch, ass up. I yelp as I crane my head to look behind me. Ambessa leans over my body so that her head is right beside mine, her bigger frame covering mine. I feel something prod at my backside. I go to look and she turns my head to look at her. She trails kisses along my shoulder blade.

“That first one was for your pleasure,” she says, almost proudly. “These ones are for mine.”

“What are you- oh my god,” I moan as I feel her strap enter me. When the fuck did she put that on?

My mouth forms an ‘O’ as she sinks deeper into me, inch by inch. I dig my fingers into the couch to keep me grounded. Ambessa leans over and kisses my cheek, laughing softly.

“I won’t be as kind.”

“Sadist much?” I spit out, my voice coming off weaker than I expected.

A loud smack sounds through the room and I jolt forward, gasping at the sting. Ambessa’s hand rubs over the spot. “I do hate disobedience, and you're far overdue for a lesson,” she leans down to my ear. “Let’s fix that, shall we?”

Her weight lifts off me. “If it’s too much, let me know.” As soon as I nod her hips snap forward. A short scream leaves my throat at the action.

Her pace is so deliberately slow it makes me want to cry. I groan into the couch. I move my hips in sync with her, fucking myself back on her. Her hand comes and grip my hips, halting my movements and I whine.

“You want me to go faster?” She asks, and I nod desperately. “Well who am I to deny you that?” There’s a hint of something in her voice but I couldn’t care less as she does indeed pick up the pace.

I’m a moaning mess as she does. I’m muttering curses and small ‘thank you’s under my breath as I approach my climax faster this time.

This time when I finish, Ambessa doesn’t stop. I whimper, overstimulated. “T-too much- Ambessa.”

She chuckles behind me as she grunts, speeding up her pace. “This is your lesson for being so damn mouthy. I told you that this wasn’t for your pleasure, it’s for mine. So fucking take it or do you want me to stop?” She slows to a complete stop before pulling out. She waits a solid few minutes waiting for my growing orgasm to subside.

I cry out at the loss of stimulation. “You're such an asshole,” I seethe.

She shrugs before pressing back into me at a brutal pace. “So damn stubborn,” she says.

Ambessa has me a moaning mess in less than a few minutes. She kisses down my back, over my scars. “So fucking pretty. You like this huh? You like me being mean to you.” All I can do is nod and mumble incoherently at her words.

“What happened to that attitude that you had earlier? Am I fucking you too good for you to act out now?” She teases.

Although she is acting unaffected, her small moans and sighs are telling me she is getting off from this, from me.

I’m getting closer to my 3rd orgasm and her thrusts are growing erratic and inconsistent. “Fuck…” she groans from behind me and I can tell she’s close too. She speeds up and a guttural moan leaves my lips as my body shakes.

She keeps thrusting her hips forward, chasing her own release. I tap her hand on my hip. “Stop Ambessa.”

She quickly pulls out of me and flips me around, concern written on her face. Her hand comes to cradle my cheek. “What’s the matter? Did I-“

I flip her over so she’s on her back before climbing on top of her, sinking down onto her strap. I moan at the feeling, feeling it go deeper than in the other position. Ambessa looks up at me from her spot below me. “Darling you don’t have to-“

“Shut up,” I sigh as I begin to move. She moans at the sight and the friction on her own cunt. I bounce up and down on her strap, moans leaving my lips as I look down at Ambessa watching her face contorted in pleasure.

I fold over and suck marks into her neck as soft sighs and moans leave her lips. Her body is growing restless and I know she’s close.

She leans into me, worry etched into her brows. “You need to finish first. I can’t-“

“You can and you will. You better fucking finish, Ambessa I swear to god,” I chuckle as a breathy moan leaves my lips.

I pick up my pace, my breast moving in time with my bounces. I reach down and roll her nipple between my fingers earning a small sigh from her.

Her face should be casted in a painting for my eyes only. Her eyes watch the strap as it goes in and out of me. Her moans growing more and more desperate.

“Are you going to come for me, General? Gonna get off to me using you to pleasure myself?”

At my words her arms reach up to me as she pulls me to her chest. She props her feet up, heels digging into the couch as she thrusts up into me.

“Oh my god- fuck fuck fuck.” I say into her skin. She’s shuddering at this point. “I’m gonna come- fuck.”

My orgasm wracks through my body, our combined moans filling the room. My body goes limp and we stay like this, me on top of her, as we both catch our breath. I raise my head and peck a kiss on her lips.

She moves under me, sliding her strap out of me, I hiss. She chuckles as she lifts me and sets me down to stand. I wobble a little on my feet but her arm is there to steady me. She wraps one of the blankets on the couch around me before wrapping one around herself and then scooping me up.

We walk out of her study and into the hallway and I’m met with Rictus standing on the other end of the dead end hallway. My face reddens as we approach where he is standing against the wall.

“Why is he down here, Ambessa?” I ask, embarrassed.

She shrugs. “Making sure no one bothered us,” she says nonchalantly.

Someone needs to give him a pay raise.

We pass by him and he gives a curt nod to Ambessa before looking down at me wrapped in the blanket.

“Good talk?” He questions with a mischievous, barely there smile.

“Good talk,” I affirm as Ambessa keeps walking.

She takes me to her room and we shower to wash the sex off of our bodies. I dote on her, washing her hair and body even though she insists she can do it herself. She dresses me in her clothes before laying us down in her bed. I lay my head in the crook of her neck, breathing in her scent. Her hand lazily runs up and down my back, I no longer flinch at her touch as it lulls me to sleep.

For the first time in years I get a full night's sleep.

#ambessa medarda #ambessa medarda x reader #slow burn #ambessa league of legends #angst #arcane ambessa

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