#and like little blurbs about what I want to happen in the plot
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lukehughes · 10 months ago
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I actually can't believe I've written almost 115k words of a fic since the end of July who am I what am I on
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wintfleur · 3 months ago
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LOVE GROWS (WHERE MY SUNSHINE GOES…)
⊹ a jesse tlou series
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☀️🪽 you and jesse have been stuck like glue ever since you met. he became so much more than just your best friend, but also your protector and confidant. from teaching you how to defend yourself to switching your schedule to be with him on patrol. everyone in the town knew it, it was clear for them to see. if they saw you they knew jesse would be by your side or watching ( 𝒶dmiring ) you from afar, never to far though.
you couldn’t see it yourself—not at first at least, but he was head over heels in love with you, putting himself at risk (more than you would like) to keep 𝓎ou safe. All he wanted was you and you were coming to the realization that all you wanted….was 𝒽im.
GENRE. fluff, angst, post-apocalyptic drama, friends to 𝓁overs, a written series, blurbs, headcanons and mid-length writings.
𝓟AIRING. best friend! jesse x sunshine! 𝓯 miller reader, protecter! jesse x protected sunshine! 𝓯 miller reader, friends to 𝓁overs / mutual pining , dina x jesse + male oc x sunshine! 𝓯 miller reader ( brief flings )
WARNING. the regular tlou warnings, angst, fluff, smut, themes of violence, mature violence (I’ll put specific warnings before each chapter)
DISCLAIMER this story is completely fictional ( obviously ) slight changes to the original game/show plot, pretty much everything during the timeskip is completely made up by me, jesse is 2 years older than sunshine, and for the sake of the plot—joel and tommy weren’t separated for that long.
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˗ˏˋ SUNSHINE PLAYLIST PINTEREST ´ˎ˗
𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖿𝗂𝖼𝗌 𝗂𝗇 chronological 𝗈𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗋
OO1. ( THE NIGHT WE MET )
❛ SPONTANEOUS STARGAZING ❜
left in an unfamiliar place you find yourself trying to grasp at any positivity that you can find in this situation. your days are filled with distractions, trying to get used to the new place while your fears plagued your sleep at night. unknowingly leading you to the person that would help with it all.
OO2. ( CHRISTMAS SPIRIT )
coming soon…
˗ˏˋ BLURBS HEADCANONS MOODBOARDS ETC. ´ˎ˗
𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗂𝗇 chronological 𝗈𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗋
jesse’s love languages
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𝓻oro’s note. My first tlou writings for this account and of course I had to have it be for the loml Jesse ᐢᗜᐢ please be patient for I am not the fastest writer!! So updates are random, I have a kinda idea on what I want to happen with this series but I’m so indecisive it might change a little hehe….my asks are always open to talk about this so feel free to send me some thoughts, questions, and requests!!! I hope you all enjoy 🤍
𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗬𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗦 𝗦𝗘𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗦 𝗪𝗜𝗟𝗟 𝗕𝗘 𝗣𝗢𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗗 𝗢𝗡 @carmysdoll
this is the tag for the series ☀️🪽 sunshine x tlou!
ᆼᆽᆼ 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 & 𝗋𝖾��𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 !
𝓶ain 𝓶.list
˖ ་ 𝓽aglist : @winterbarnesblog @43hyughes @toasttt11 @mushy-mushroom04 @mihstar @beelee-cotton @hardbeingcasual
send an ask or comment on this post to be added to the taglist!!
©️WINTFLEUR ; you can't copy, translate, reproduce, repost my fic, use my plot or layout.
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hard-core-super-star · 8 months ago
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brought you together so nice [W.Maximoff + N.Romanoff]
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pairing: dom!natasha romanoff x sub!reader x switch!wanda maximoff
summary: natasha takes care of you until wanda comes back. needless to say, the witch is more than happy about the arrangement you both came up with in her absence.
warnings: SMUT, MINORS DO NO INTERACT -> porn with very little plot but even more feelings; mommy + daddy kink; slightly more established dom/dub dynamics; a dash of pet play (as usual); bondage; gagging; soft domme nat + bratty wanda!!!!; vibrator use [R receiving]; praise + degradation + a dash of humiliation; hair pulling; spanking; aftercare
wordcount: 4.1k
a/n: well, well, well...guess who got too attached to another series? yup, me 😅 these two have taken up more of my mind than i originally thought so here is part three of this little series. i don't have a plan to make another full part, but i might mess around and write a few blurbs here and there. we'll see what happens. anyway, thank you for all your support, especially regarding this little series. i'm thinking of opening my requests back up until the start of the new year so keep an eye out for that ;) [commissions are still more than welcome, though!] okay, i'll stop rambling for now, hope you enjoy <3
[part one | part two]
* * * * * * *
Natasha could be sweet when she wanted to.
That was the first thing you learned after agreeing to become her and Wanda's submissive. 
The rules and details weren't too clear yet, the redhead promising to answer all your questions as soon as the Sokovian came back from her mission. Still, she did what she could to fill in the gaps of your knowledge, allowing you to ask her as many questions as you pleased before showing you, in great detail, what she meant.
Despite the cold exterior you'd learned to love, she was much softer with you than you'd ever imagined. Sure, she was still a mean domme at heart, but she wanted to show you heights of pleasure you'd never experienced before.
And she went to great lengths to guarantee it.
It quickly became clear to you how much she loved impact play. Even outside of play sessions, she would always come up behind you, landing a hard smack to your ass before pulling you into her arms. You didn't mind, even when she did it in front of the others.
(Although Tony did whistle at you guys once and promptly earned himself a punch to the stomach. He laughed it off but made sure to never tease the Widow about her behavior with you again.)
You knew there were a lot of things you didn't know or fully understand, but Natasha always seemed to find a way to make you feel more excited than nervous about it. It was almost funny how quickly her personality changed once she allowed you to see past her walls.
Sure, she was still a little mean and more than a little snarky (which is exactly how you liked her, if you were being honest) yet there was a softer, affectionate, side that started coming out more and more.
She told you it was simply because Wanda wasn't around and she wasn't allowed to "break you in" without her around. Maybe it was a silly excuse perfectly crafted to keep you on your toes, but you didn't really mind.
Well, except because you really missed Wanda.
Being without the witch was harder than you thought it would be, but the Widow kept you busy enough to forget the empty spot beside you in their bed.
Your bed.
That was the second thing Natasha made you learn. 
Yes, you were technically an addition to their relationship, but you weren't an outsider. You never were.
That was the third thing you learned.
Both Natasha and Wanda had their eyes on you from the very beginning. They loved each other, and their relationship made them happier than they could put into words, and yet they always felt something was missing. A third energy to keep them in check. To stop them from getting too rough, too mean with each other. To help remember how to be soft after spending so much time fighting with the world.
It was...strange, but you couldn't deny what they meant to you. The attraction you felt toward them had always been there and after Wanda opened that door...well, let's just say there was no going back.
You didn't understand how real that was until now.
Because somehow, someway, after carrying guilt you didn't even need to have in the first place, you were here.
You were theirs.
You were waking up in their bed with Natasha's arms wrapped tight around your waist.
A shudder ran down your body as the redhead's lips met your bare shoulder, peppering kisses across the skin. "Morning, detka. Sleep well?"
"Yeah," you reply as a smile forms on your face. "You're a fantastic cuddler."
"Shut up," she mumbles. There's a clear lack of annoyance in her words despite her attempts at sounding tough. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Your grip on me begs to differ."
At your response, her hands move to grip your waist, her nails digging into your soft skin. The sensation makes you gasp, your back arching almost instantly. You can feel the redhead smiling against your skin. It hasn't been that long and she already knows your body better than you do.
"Sorry, were you saying something?" She says, taking advantage of your reactions to grind against your ass. "You seem a little distracted."
 It's a bit of a cruel game but it's one she loves to play with you. Truth be told, she loves playing with you, period. You're so different from Wanda, so much more responsive, more honest about your constant neediness.
"I don't know what you're talking about," you mumble, not so subtly grinding back against her.
Just because you were slowly learning the rules regarding your place didn't mean you didn't love pushing Natasha's buttons whenever you could. Which really only happened in the mornings and during aftercare. Those were the only two moments when the older woman allowed herself to be soft with you, to let you see behind the walls she'd expertly put up to keep everyone out. Everyone except you and Wanda, it seems.
Her voice remains low, straddling the border between a tease and a warning. "Is my good girl trying to be a brat?"
Your heart skips a beat at her words. At the mention of being her good girl. Of being hers.
After the rough beginning your relationship had, you never thought you'd be let into her heart in any way. And yet here you are. You're her good girl, her kitten, her darling submissive.
"No..." You trail off, trying to decide whether to behave or push her buttons a little more. Ultimately, your desire to be a little shit wins out. "...Daddy."
Natasha chuckles behind you, her hands moving from your hips and toward your breasts. She gives them a soft squeeze as her thumbs tease your hardening nipples. "Oh, kotenok, you woke up cheeky this morning, huh? You know what mouthing off like that will earn you, right?"
You do know. She's told you many, many times before, usually while she's praising you for being so good for her and drawing out orgasm after orgasm from your overstimulated body.
However, she's never actually acted out any of her warnings. It's a good thing, you know that, and yet you can't stop yourself from wanting to see what it will feel like. To explore what that kind of submission will do to you.
"Yes, Daddy. I know."
She hums before going right back to kissing across your shoulders, nipping at your skin just to get you to arch into her teasing hands. "I see...you want to be punished, don't you? Want Daddy to remind you of your place until there's nothing else inside your mind?"
You're about to reply when you're interrupted by F.R.I.D.A.Y. "Miss Romanoff, Miss Maximoff has asked me to notify you of her return."
Your cheeks flush, even though the disembodied voice can't see what exactly you're up to this morning. At the very least, F.R.I.D.A.Y. is a lot less nosy than Jarvis ever was. Although, if you're being honest, you liked him better before he turned into a robot.
"I'm assuming she'll be at the Medbay for a while?" The Widow replies, her mind no doubt full of the things she'll do to you to pass the time.
"Yes, it seems she'll be there for the next half hour."
"Good. Thank you, Friday."
The AI doesn't reply and you can practically imagine her making a swift exit out of the room, leaving you to face whatever it is that the redhead has come up with.
"y/n..." Natasha purrs, her breath hot against your ear. "I have an idea. Why don't we give Mommy a nice surprise, hmm? Don't you want to be her pretty welcome back gift?"
You're not sure what being Wanda's "welcome back gift" will entail, but you can't deny your curiosity about it. Especially since the witch has no idea what you and her girlfriend have been up to. You have no doubt she has her suspicions, she is a mind reader after all, but it'll still be nice to surprise her.
You agree before you even know what you're doing, and Natasha wastes no time in springing into action.
In a matter of minutes, you go from lying comfortably under the covers to being spread out on your back, your limbs tied to each corner of the bed. You're exposed, vulnerable, and you love every second of it.
Of course, Natasha isn't satisfied with that. No, to top off the pretty sight you make, she places a deep, dark red ball gag between your lips. You shouldn't be surprised since, after all, you did ask for it.
"There we go," the redhead hums appreciatively, her eyes taking in the beautiful sight. "Now, just sit tight, okay, detka? I'll be right back."
You whine instantly, but she pays no mind to you, quickly making her way out of the bedroom and going to look for Wanda. You're not exactly happy about being left alone yet, there's nothing you can do. All you can do is throw your head back in frustration and wait for your lovers to return.
You're not sure how much time goes by, although there's no doubt in your mind that Natasha does her best to draw out their return just to mess with you, but eventually, they make their way back to you.
The sound of the door opening makes you practically vibrate with excitement, your hips wiggling from side to side without thinking.
"Well, would you look at that," Wanda says as she steps further into the room. "Looks like someone was having fun without me."
Natasha follows her in, standing behind her and wrapping her arms around her waist. There's something so domestic about the action that makes your heart clench.
"I had to get her ready for you, darling," the redhead replies as her chin finds the other woman's shoulder. "She looks good, doesn't she?"
"She sure does. I take it you worked out your issues?"
"We came to an...agreement, yes. I couldn't let you have all the fun."
Wanda chuckles, the corners of her mouth quirking up into a fond smile. There's no mistaking the fire in her eyes, though, the desire simmering below the surface. "And you said I was crazy for wanting her to join us."
The Widow grumbles, clearly not quite ready to admit her girlfriend was right. "You're still not off the hook, you let her believe you cheated on me."
"When are you going to let that go?"
"I'm not sure, maybe you should make it up to me."
Natasha's eyes remain on you but Wanda turns around, silencing her girlfriend's complaints with a fiery kiss. All you can do is watch, feeling left out and far too involved at the same time. You're slowly getting used to their competitive antics.
Their kisses turn desperate in nothing short of a few seconds, leaving you far too desperate and needy while you squirm around on the bed. They take their sweet time getting back to you, though, instead letting their hands wander over each other's bodies.
You'd love to complain but you're still gagged so talking is pretty much impossible. More than that...you can't say you're not loving the view. It makes you feel a little dirty, like you're watching an intimate scene you shouldn't be, and it brings a rush unlike anything you've ever felt before.
They know, because of course they know, and your obvious arousal only motivates them to tease you.
Natasha moves first, expert hands reaching for the hem of Wanda's shirt and lifting it over her head in an instant. "I missed you."
"Are you talking to me or my boobs?" The witch replies with a perfectly raised eyebrow.
"I'm talking to all of you."
"Nice save, 'Tasha."
"Shut up."
There's something comforting about the scene in front of you, even as your frustration builds. You've been with them before, but it's different this time. You can feel the change in energy, the easy chemistry that flows between all of you now that Natasha isn't trying to push you away.
"Come on, I think we've teased our good girl long enough," Wanda says, taking the redhead's hand and leading her toward the bed. "Isn't that right, sweetheart? You're feeling a little frustrated, hmm?"
You nod desperately in response, tugging at the rope that holds you down. Your actions only make both of your lovers chuckle.
"Look at her, she's drenched and we haven't gotten started yet," Natasha comments, her eyes trailing up and down your body like a predator assessing its prey.
"I'm guessing this means training's going well."
"She's a quick learner. A bit bratty sometimes, though."
The way they talk about you as if you're not a part of the conversation has you clenching around pure air. It doesn't help that the Widow is so accurate in her assessment of you. You love being submissive, being under their control, but you can't deny how much fun it is to disobey. To push against the boundaries she's set for you, not to defy her but to tease her. Maybe even test her a little.
It's far too fun.
"Is that right, sweetheart?" Wanda asks, even though your body language makes it clear how correct Natasha is. "I thought you liked being our good girl. Because if you don't, well...you know what happens to naughty girls, don't you?"
Of course you know. It was one of the first things the redhead taught you. Sure, the rules and terms weren't too fleshed out yet since Natasha had wanted her girlfriend to be a part of the whole exchange, but she'd gone over most things with you. Rewards, punishments, hard limits, all that stuff.
You're unable to tell the witch that, though, thanks to the gag in your mouth. Your incoherent mumbles seem to entertain her for a few seconds while Natasha sneaks off toward their closet.
Wanda's chuckle cuts through the air. Your attempts at convincing her you've been good clearly amuse her. "I know, baby, I know you like being good. Otherwise, Nat wouldn't be so attached to you."
"I'm not attached," the redhead grumbles.
A month ago, her words would have made your heart drop into your stomach. Now, though, you know she's only playing a part. She has no problem telling you how she feels outside of a scene, but when you're playing, when you're being their pet, she's right back to being mean. Right back to degrading you and humiliating you until you're riding the edge of pleasure and pain.
"Keep telling yourself that, darling."
"Oh, I will."
Their banter is borderline comforting. You've loved spending time with Natasha, but this, being with them and seeing their personalities come together, this is where you thrive.
Well, it's not like you're doing much. Then again, they like you most when you're like this. Vulnerable, at their mercy, and so obviously loving every second of it.
Wanda climbs onto bed with you, crawling over your body until she's hovering over you with a gentle smile that steals all your worries away. "'Tasha's such a liar, isn't she, sweetheart? It's okay, let her act like she's the big bad."
You want to laugh, but it's a little hard when she's leaning down to pepper kisses all over your face. The action is far softer than what you were expecting and it makes your heart soar.
You were ready for a rougher training session, for a trial run meant to show you what you had been missing in the witch's absence. But this? This is really good too.
Wanda continues her loving assault on your skin, trailing kisses down your jaw and toward your neck. You tilt your head back in response, earning a soft giggle muffled against your skin, as she kisses and nibbles all up and down your throat. There's no doubt in your mind that she's littering your skin with hickies and noticeable marks, but you find you really don't mind it.
The witch steals your attention long enough for Natasha to gather a few supplies before making her way over to you. You feel her set a few things down next to you, but you don't get to see what they are. Not that you really mind considering how busy your mind is.
"Stop hogging her attention, that's not very fair."
"It's not my fault you left her so fuzzy-headed. Poor girl didn't even stand a chance, huh?"
You shake your head, a few muffled whines making their way out of you.
Natasha chuckles as she shifts onto her knees next to you. Her hands find their way between you and Wanda's bodies, teasing your skin as she explores the territory she's spent the past few days claiming.
"Oh, please. This is nothing. You should've seen the state she was in last night."
The reminder makes you squirm in your restraints, trying to get closer to them to no avail. You know how desperate you look, how absolutely needy you are, but you can't find it in yourself to care. This is what you had been waiting for. To be completely theirs. To surrender to them and accept everything they were willing to give you. Sure, it was intimidating and yet it felt incredibly right.
"Are you trying to make me jealous?" Wanda responds, working her way down your body, expertly avoiding the areas where her girlfriend is touching you.
"You deserve it. Wasn't this your fantasy?"
"Maybe. It was hers first, though. Isn't that right, detka?"
The change in topic makes you blush. It shouldn't be surprising to hear that the witch had already known about your feelings for her but it's still a little embarrassing. At least she seems to enjoy it.
You nod, your movements slightly frantic and no doubt fueled by the feeling of her lips on your flushed skin. She takes her time dragging her lips up and down your inner thighs as Natasha teases your hardening nipples.
"Such a good little slut. I bet you're already so fuzzy. Just want your cunt played with and nothing else." The redhead distracts you with her words, leaving you completely unprepared for Wanda's continued assault.
You don't hear the thrumming sound of the vibrator coming to life, but you sure feel it against your sensitive clit. Your whole body shudders in response as your hips buck in a desperate attempt to escape the overwhelming sensation.
Your reaction makes the witch laugh and she leans down to press a few more kisses to your thighs. "There you go, that's what I like to see."
Her words feel more like humiliation than praise and yet you can't find it in yourself to care. Not when it feels so good that it borders on painful.
"Excuse you, we were having a little chat." Natasha's tease is coupled with a firm grip in your hair as she tilts your head toward her. "I'll have to train you if you don't fix that attention span, pet."
"Be nice, Nat, it's not her fault she likes me more."
"God, you're such a brat, Maximoff." Her free hand leaves your body to land a sharp smack against Wanda's ass. "I'll put you in your place too, if I have to."
The witch hums in response, very clearly pushing herself back against the redhead's hand. "You know I'd enjoy it."
Natasha spanks her again and the sight has you bucking your hips faster as you search for more pleasure. You let out a string of whines, already feeling yourself on the edge of an orgasm. It's a little embarrassing how quickly you're reaching your limit but in your defense, you've been worked up ever since you woke up. You were bound to lose from the beginning.
"Don't tell me you want to cum already, sweetheart? We've barely gotten started."
You want to defend yourself, but your attempts are instant failures. Natasha seems to get off on how pathetic you sound, though.
"It's alright, kitten, why don't you go ahead and cum for me? Mommy hasn't earned her reward just yet."
Wanda opens her mouth to object but she doesn't get very far since the redhead goes right back to spanking her.
You're not used to seeing the witch in a slightly more submissive position. She always seem to straddle the border between being fully in control and immersed below Natasha's dominance. This change of pace is more than welcome, though.
The vibrator gets pushed harder against your sensitive clit and the pressure sends you over the edge almost instantly. You don't get a chance to warn them, all you can do is give in to the sudden pleasure as your body trembles beneath them.
They're both distracted by the sight of your orgasm crashing into you so suddenly. So beautifully.
"What a good girl," Natasha murmurs appreciatively. "You could learn a thing or two from her, Wands."
"Whatever." You miss the way the witch rolls her eyes since your eyes are more than a little blurry and there's a soft ringing in your ears. "It won't be my fault when she forgets her place, Daddy."
That earns her another spank, but she's too busy moving the vibrator away from your drenched cunt to care. You whine softly at the loss of contact even though you feel far too sensitive to take much more.
Apparently, you look as out of it as you feel because the older women take a few moments to let you catch your breath.
Wanda's hands gently stroke up and down your legs to keep you grounded while Natasha shifts closer, her hands reaching out to undo the ballgag. "How are you feeling, kotenok? Do you want to keep going?"
Your throat's a little dry, but you manage to form a reply. "I'm okay. Just need to catch my breath."
The Widow nods before reaching over to grab the bottled water on the nightstand. She helps you take a few sips of water while Wanda continues to caress your skin, both giving you as much time as you need to recover. It's such a small thing and yet it's a reminder of why you're so attached to them. Why you need them more and more with every day that goes by.
Your relationship with them might have had a bit of a rough start, but you couldn't imagine a better outcome. Couldn't imagine two better people to surrender your heart to.
"Someone's in a romantic mood," Wanda pipes up with a soft smile.
Her words cause an instant response in you and you feel your face grow warmer by the second. "Why are you in my mind right now?"
"Because your thoughts about me are so loud," she replies almost instantly. "Don't look so embarrassed, detka, I think it's cute."
"Shut up," you mumble, momentarily forgetting where you are and what you're in the middle of doing.
Wanda's smile turns slightly dark and her hand comes down against your thigh before you can even think about what you did wrong. "Where'd your manners go, huh?"
The sensation makes you shiver, but Natasha reaches a hand out to stop the witch from smacking your thigh again. "Time out, darling. I don't think we're quite ready to keep going."
You want to argue with her and yet you make no real effort to. As much as you might want to keep going, you can't deny how overwhelming it all was...and how desperate you are for some cuddles.
"Sorry," you mumble.
Wanda instantly shushes you as she uses her magic to undo the restraints keeping you tied down. "Nonsense, you have nothing to apologize for."
The second your limbs are free, Natasha's hands are on you again. This time, though, she merely maneuvers you onto your side so she's able to slide in behind you. The second her arms wrap around your waist, your shoulders let go of the tension they've been holding. 
Wanda wastes no time in joining the two of you, laying down in front of you and reaching up to play with your hair. "Just relax, we have all day to pick up where we left off."
"Don't rush her, little witch."
Natasha's words make you chuckle and you lean forward until you're practically buried in the witch's chest. "I'm okay, guys. I don't break easily."
A beat of silence goes by as they allow you to soak in the afterglow, in the feeling of their embrace.
But the Widow really can't help herself.
"Are you sure? Maybe we should test that out."
Her words are a tease, but none of you can deny your curiosity...or your arousal.
Needless to say, you spend most of the day tangled up in their bed.
Your bed.
With the two women who mean the absolute world to you.
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marstons-angel · 1 year ago
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WHAT SET YOU FREE, BROUGHT YOU TO ME BABY.
rdr2 men + short blurbs about their favorite sex positions.
ft. arthur morgan, john marston, javier escuella, and charles smith.
✧ tags : SPOILER HEAVY, fem + afab!reader, unprotected sex, light angst (in the horny post is crazy im sorry fdkjjkds), very gendered language, javier says one thing in spanish (thank u @nanamimizz), a little sprinkle of plot with each (and some canon divergency), john co-parents w abigail, otherwise just horny. 18+
✧ wc : about 1.4-8k each (6.3k total)
✧ a/n : sorry for making a multi character post for the cowboy game its cooking me to death. my john bias is showing rip. title is from rebel yell by billy idol but i listen to the bvb cover
sorry about charles and javiers but if i edit this anymore im going to level an entire city using hollow purple technique. please rb if you enjoyed i worked kind of hard on whatever this is.
sorry for . the THIRD repost of this i promise i wont after this. its just really bugging me. PLEASE
.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚。⋆ ARTHUR MORGAN + PRONE BONE ; 
It’s an odd feelin’ for Arthur. 
Wanting something, he means. Wanting anything as much as he wants you. He’s lived a less than quiet life up until now. And he ain’t the brightest, certainly, but living this kind of life teaches you many lessons. One of them being, it’s better not to covet anything. Coveting something you’re not entitled to, well—it’ll lead you places you wouldn’t want to go with a gun. 
Arthur has made the mistake of coveting love before, dreamed of a future so completely out of his reach he almost convinced himself it was possible. Dreamed of it so foolishly he’d even go visit a woman he very well ought to forget. It’s his problem, his burden to bear - always desiring outcomes unsuited to him. 
He’s just that sort of man he reckons. But he learned his lesson. He tries (tried?) to stay away from it after that. Tried not to pine too much for normalcy when such hopes had failed him twice. The loss of his child completely on his account and the loss of his love at the same fate. 
So, wanting you - well, he feels like the world's dullest fool. Really. How is it that Arthur had fallen in love with someone again? It had all just happened so quickly. You were another woman he’d saved from the O’Driscolls, though it wasn’t like you were no damsel. A lot of those men were dead by the time they arrived. That sort of perseverance would stick with you while you traveled together. Much like Sadie, you didn’t take well to housework - you liked to earn your keep. Though you’re not nearly so trigger happy. 
You’re quiet, thoughtful, well-read. Plus you’re good at making money. That’s why Dutch don't complain about you joining them, he figures. 
(Arthur tries not to pry into it too much at first, but he eventually learns that you’re gambling. Which is how you’re able to make such a fast turn around. A prim little lady like you makes for a fine poker player, and you love to play men out of their money. He thinks it’s one of the funniest and most interesting things about you. He can’t help but love you a little more for it. )
When the feelings in him start to stir, Arthur tries to overlook it. Arthur convinces himself, time and time again - that there’s no way he’ll grow more tender about you. Eventually, it’ll die down. You’re a decent woman is all, a kind one - who’s easy for him to love and even easier for him to confide in. In your time together, you often come to Arthur and you always seem to have some profound wisdom he is so sorely lacking. Someone easy to love, who does not expect much from Arthur at all. It’s only natural a lonely, covetous man like him would start to dream about you. He tells himself, it will pass eventually. Should he simply let it run by him, it will pass. But Arthurs a fool, you’ll remember. 
 Of course, by the time he understood all that - he already loved you enough that he couldn’t bear it. It was already too late and it wasn’t going to change any time soon. Especially not while everything changed around him. 
So, Arthur is undoubtedly a fool, but he’s lucky. He felt divinely blessed when you’d returned his feelings for him so politely. A coy little smile on your face, a laugh like you thought he was silly for being doubtful. Arthur tried to explain himself but you wouldn’t hear a word of it. Maybe that’s another thing he loves so much about you. There’s nothing he ever needs to explain. 
In any case, all Arthur seems to do lately is want you. Wants you when it’s inconvenient. Wants you before he wants liquor or a cigarette or some other vice. Any time anything goes wrong, you’re the first thing his mind can conjure up for relief. That pretty smile and that self-assured way of living. It’s hard to get time alone in camp. And Arthur is a man in love, so any touch could be enough to set him on fire. Last week you hugged his waist a little before giving him a kiss goodbye and he had to listen to you laugh yourself into a fit as he waited for…little Arthur to settle down. 
He don’t get many chances to be with you. Lay with you in that way that grown folk in love do. Though, if the two of you book it somewhere for a few days - the camp knows better not to ask where you’ve been. But it’s not often you get to really be together, where it’s peaceful to do that. Someone’s always hounding one of you to do something. 
Arthur is a lucky man though, like he said. Today he had time. Today he’s alone with you in a beat up little saloon and today he gets to do as he likes. He gets to be greedy. And it’s an odd feeling for him, really, to want something so bad he disregards everything else in the world for a little while. 
Feeling you, though - absolves the guilt for wanting. He’d be stupid to want you any less desperately. 
Arthur’s favorite way to have you is on your stomach. Laid flat, just barely pushed up against him as he fucks you deep. You’ll fuck like rabbits for a little while and Arthur will wear you out just like this, maneuvering you until you’re pinned all underneath his weight. You lose any fight you might have, too exhausted to worry yourself with pleasing him - and when you’re like that, you let Arthur take care of you. 
(He really ain’t talented at much, but he’s good with his hands. Being dexterous is part of being a talented shot. When Arthur has the time to spread you sweet in his lap and make you cum all over his fingers, he does so for as long as he can. At least until you beg him so sweetly otherwise. The same hands, soiled with gunsmoke, look so good so deep in you. At least in his eyes.)
Wet and pliable and helpless. Arthur loves you like that. He knows, he knows you’re anything but - but he’d be damned to pretend this don’t feel best. Tight, wet cunt so welcoming from all the pleasure he’s ripped out of you. Your bodies pressed together, your heartbeat pulsing through your skin. All sticky, honeyed need and animal desire as Arthur lets all of him sink on top of you. His heavy, lumbering form crushing you in - trapping you somewhere you can’t run from him. The curve of your spine pushed against his chest, ticklish. 
Every inch of his body that so wholly wants for you, Arthur aches to make you feel. Burn it in you lest anything happens that risks your forgetting. 
He can feel his hips meet your ass, backside squished against him - desperate for deeper friction. Whining. You’re whining to him so pretty, a pillow pushed underneath you to give friction to needy clit. 
Arthur can feel how much you want more. Maybe Arthur is greedy, but he likes that look much better on you. Your pussy is sucking him in so tight, silken walls pulsing with every shallow little measured thrust. Arthur lets his arm wrap around your neck, your face pressing into his bicep. You moan again and he laughs. 
“Arthur,” Your words come out in a messy slur. He lets his scruffy face press against your neck, a kiss behind your ear. He wants to kiss you all over. There’s not enough hours in the day. “Oh, god, Arthur,” 
“Still feels good, then, I’m guessin’,” 
“Shut up,” You huff and press your cheek into his arm. He doesn’t bother stifling his laugh. “Still feels…big. Stretchin’ me out—hicc—so much,” 
You really don’t try to rile him up - but you do a damn good job of it anyway. He groans, grunts as he pulls back and pistons himself in you. A gesture half-way between a kiss and the warning shot of a gun. The sound of skin hitting skin echoes, noisy and vulgar. Arthur don’t pay it much mind. He laughs against your shoulder.
“One of these days, that moutha’ yours is gonna get me in real trouble.” 
You giggle back at him 
“What kinda trouble is that now?” 
Even from your side glance, you’ve got that lovely little smile on you. Fuckdrunk and ingratiating, like you know he’s wrapped so tight around your fingers. And he is, like nothing else in the world could have him. A wave of possession curls up over Arthur, makes him press more of himself into you. Onto you. Another deep push of his cock, sliding against the tenderest parts of you. Staking some silent desire in you. He wants and wants and wants, and hopes that whatevers above him can forgive him for making the same mistake thrice. 
“Dunno,” Arthur comments, teeth grazing your shoulder and kissing the indentations “Got our whole lives together to find out, I reckon.” 
“I’ll hold you to it, Mister.” 
Arthur laughs. “Hope you do, Miss.” 
.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚。⋆ JOHN MARSTON + COWGIRL ;
John doesn’t say that he loves you lightly. 
Hardly a thing he says can be said that way. Could never afford too. In an alternate universe where nothing goes wrong in his life, maybe - but he has a hard time picturing what the hell that’d look like. A version of himself so untainted, without all of the violence and blood and gunsmoke? Foreign. John can’t picture it worth a damn. 
Who John is without a deadbeat father and a dead Ma is somewhere far beyond his reach. Ain’t nothing about his life, at any point, lighthearted. 
On top of all that mess, he’s got a boy at age four with a woman he ain’t married too. And that relationship is always on rocky waters, even though John’s decided to do right by his own flesh and blood sometime ago. Most things in the world he should feel good about he doesn’t, and most things he should understand render him clueless. He’s a mess on multiple accounts, and he still doesn’t know how exactly he’s meant to approach this life of his. He knows what he should do, but nothing about how to do it. 
John doesn’t come to love you easily ‘cause he wouldn’t know easy love if it hit him in his face. Quickly and painfully, but not easily. 
Your return to the gang was an odd one. You were an old presence and your disappearance was an even older story. John thought he’d never gonna see you again for sure. You’d been a part of the gang back long before all of the nonsense that took place in Blackwater and you left about the time Arthur’s boy died. John don’t remember why you left exactly. He thinks it was a fight with Hosea, of all things.
 Dutch weren't too happy about it neither, but Dutch back then didn’t make a show. 
So you left, and John buried every feeling he ever harbored. You found all them again up in Colter, where you’d been living out your days lately. According to you, in the middle of riding, you thought you’d heard Arthur. So, somewhat recklessly, you went chasing him. Didn’t matter if he was just something your mind conjured. According to you, if it was him, it was at least worth checking to make sure. You’d reunited with Arthur and after some tears, he rode with you back to camp. 
Upon your return, the gang welcomed you with open arms. 
You’d done a lot in your time alone.You spent most of that time just like that, a ghost wanderin’ the planes. You weren’t gonna stay with ‘em, but Arthur insisted and Hosea did too. That wasn’t enough to compel, so John was last to chip in. You should stay, at least until Valentine. 
(Silently he thought, you should stay so John can trace memories of you. It was so long ago, he should’ve forgotten all of it. You were a year older than John and always on his ass but easy for him to talk to. Didn’t fuss over his failures. You just barely grew into your womanhood when you set your sights on running away. You wanted more than this life, and John never really forgave you for it. His first heartbreak, maybe - but it’s all too blurry for that. 
You understood him though better than anyone, and one day you were gone. Nothing’s really the same.) 
You changed tremendously and not at all. He missed you. God, did he ever. Missed you a long time. Didn’t realize how much until you came back and everything in him felt right again. Your return stirred up old feelings and everyone noticed. He wasn’t trying to keep it a secret, but he really wasn’t trying to fall back into anything with you. Not how he did. 
Just like you did back then, you read John like an open book. And just like he did back then, he loved you all too helplessly for it.  It was just all too easy again, to be with you. 
You stayed out of the way at first, for the sake of his family. 
But, John ain’t a half-decent man even when he’s trying to be. So he set himself on being with you. It wasn’t easy - most things with him aren’t as you’ll see.  Having you around again straightened what was left of his common sense, at least. He told Abigail before telling you. He figured you wouldn’t even reply unless that was all out of the way. That turned out as well as you’d expect.
 It was settled between the two of you thereafter. He’s lucky she didn’t toss him into the street. 
Everything works out in a way. As best they can between broken people. You make peace with each other. His boy loves you like a third parent (you’re better with him than John is). Abigail commends you for straightening out such a worthless man though she’s a little melancholy.  John just tries to stay out of the way. You’ll be together in the end. There’s a plan with the five of you. 
But until it all falls apart, he doesn’t get all that much time with you. 
There’s moments like tonight, though. Rare ones. Together out robbin’, cooped out some place in the woods where no one is around. A place so shaded by nightfall that John can absolve himself of every sin he’s ever committed in his life and pray at the altar between your hips. John is convinced he might find worship like he’s always hearing about there whenever he touches you, the marred skin of his hands and knuckles reading the scripture of your body with careful precision. 
You might turn him into a literate man yet. 
John glances up at you. Only the light of the fire and the moonlight there to accompany as he watches you over him. You’re beautiful. John couldn’t picture a single thing more perfect in his life. 
Your hands against his bare chest, nails digging into the flesh as you lean forward. Your palm dug into the dirt, John finds his own hands rested at your hips. John looks at you awe-struck, cock twitching at the mere sight. His heart settles in his throat, but he’s calm all at the same time. With you, he forgets. All of it. The worst of himself. 
Bare naked and so close, he watches your face as you strain. You feel soft. Every inch of you in comparison to him is. A bead of sweat slides down the valley of your breasts. John cranes his neck up to catch it with his tongue, licking a stripe up to your neck - letting his teeth sink into the space between your jaw and neck. You want to make it last and John doesn’t blame you. It’s so rare you get to have each other so unrestrained. John can feel all the ways you want him, can see it in your face - all pinched with need. You’re holding yourself back, trying to get it to last as long as the night will allow. It’s cute in a way.
It’s different than how he’s used to seein’ you, all cocky or otherwise. You’re needy like this. Just needy. His stomach turns with lust, jolting through him like a strike of lightning. His cock twitches against your folds, sliding against them. Pure admiration watching the sticky mess of his pre-cum and your own arousal mix together and smear on your mound. You make a soft noise in the back of your throat, faint and tender as you fall forward just a little. John laughs against your neck. 
“Darlin’,” He says with a huff. Not malice. Something akin to bliss, where he can rarely afford it “Have I done something to piss you off today?” 
You pick yourself up and look down at him and frown. John kisses the corner of your mouth, resisting some crude desire to fuck up into you. 
“Just,” You grunt as the tip of his cock passes over your throbbing clit, your whole body wracking to a shiver. John looks awed. “Pent up. Goddamn it,” 
John figures it out quickly after that. It’s this part of it he likes. The proximity. The closeness. Feeling the tremble in your hands as they struggle to keep up right, muscles strained in your forearms. Being able to hold you, to keep the pace or let you take the lead. The clear view of your face as pleasure travels up through your spine and melts into you. He grabs your hips, the fat dimpling underneath his fingers as he moves you along. He can’t wait. You don’t bother to protest seeing John can’t seem to bear it anymore. You collapse into his chest, your tits pushed flat against his pecs.
His cock throbs near painfully, sliding against your soft cunt before finding himself lined with you. He thinks to himself that it’s this he was looking for, as he tucks your face against his neck and lets his tip stretch you out slowly. Such a vice like grip, stretching - resisting him like your whole body can’t anticipate the sensation of fullness. You gasp against his throat. 
“John,”  
What a sweet sound from your mouth, even sweeter as he bucks himself up. Keeps you steady and lets his cock stretch you full, feel you deep. “That’s right, my angel. Didn’t think you’d remember my name when you’re all worked up like this.” 
“You’re,” You gasp and John thrusts, thrusts hard until he’s buried to the hilt. You shudder, walls pulsing around him as he bottoms out and John laughs like the terrible man he is. He fucks you again, over and over - a wicked little smile watching “Awful. Just awful, John Marston,” 
“Ain’t that the truth,” He hums against your mouth as his hand snakes between your bodies, thumb rubbing against your clit. “Wonder what kinda woman that makes you,” 
“A foolish one,” 
John laughs. 
“I sure do love you for it,”
.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚。⋆JAVIER ESCUELLA + SIDEWAYS ;
Javier hasn’t thought about much other than surviving. 
It’s been like that. Been like that for a while, probably much longer than he cares to admit. He’s sure any sane man would suffer the same plight if they lead the same life. Anything but survival is little more than a pipe-dream, so Javier tries not to go for anything too strongly. In that aspect he’s like many of the members of the gang he’s in, perhaps that’s why he sticks to them. There’s that phrase Hosea’s always saying - that misery loves company. Javier will take any decent company he can get.  He’s desperate for it just like he’s desperate for most things - inwardly, silently. 
Some of that desperation may be symptomatic of who he is. After he killed a man in a crime of passion for a woman he loved and ran from a government who would sooner exile him than change, Javier decided to not dream anymore. Every revolutionary who dreams too hopefully pays the price in blood.
(Javier thinks there’s probably nothing in the world as true as this. A form of gospel. He remembers the first dream he ever had after his uncle passed. Not a nightmare but a dream. He remembers the exact feeling of waking up, cold and confused. What is a dream, except a memento of survivor's guilt that loyal people cling onto fruitlessly. When hope starts to feel like a debt he’s going to waste his life paying back, Javier loses sight of everything. The beginning of the end in some way.) 
His mind doesn’t occupy itself with anything bigger than that. Since Dutch found him starving, there was never a desire to try and live off aspirations. He pays his penance with loyalty and honor. Practices some form of humility and tries, not too desperately, to carve a place for him to fit. All without drawing too much attention or caring too much. If you ignore the bleeding in his fingers, his penchant for knives over guns, and his refusal to talk too long about the place he comes from - it’s nearly believable that none of it matters. 
Except loyalty. All Javier honors is that. It’s the only thing he has some part in choosing, so he choses it every time. Living like that didn’t make any difference to him. He was surrounded by mostly decent people. He didn’t hate the life he was living. 
It wasn’t important. It didn’t matter. His directionless-ness, his floating. Hadn’t since he joined the gang. At least not to anyone but him. He didn’t know what he’s meant to do or if he was meant to proceed with this forever. He was (is)  loyal to Dutch. To the gang. 
He hadn’t thought much about what comes after. 
And it didn’t matter until he met you
He’d sworn off love after seeing where it got him, at least until he could love more dispassionately. When the women bring you back from their outing from Valentine and beg Dutch to let you stay, Javier doesn’t think much of it all. He thinks you’re pretty, if it counts for anything. But he doesn’t let himself linger on you too long. 
But that’s the sequence with you two, really. The whole time.  He doesn’t linger until he does. It doesn't matter until it does. He doesn’t think about you until it’s all he can think about. 
You go for him first. And it’s in little, unimportant ways that might not mean shit to you but mean a whole lot to him. You have some kind of tenderness about you that you wear deep, runs through your blood like love ran through his once long ago. Some softness he can’t really measure with his own. It’s not that that gets him. It’s that sometimes you look at Javier like he's … someone you want to see. He forgot what that was like all together. It felt foreign to him the first time it happened. Seeing how you light up when Javier is around. 
You wanted to see him. You noticed that he’s gone. If he sang by the campfire - you’d sit by him and listen.  If he was out in the trees keeping guard, he’d hear the soft call of your voice to Grimshaw ask Where’s Javier? And sometimes the girls will make fun of you - but you wouldn’t deny anything they said. It’s so small and ordinary. He would’ve never considered himself simple before meeting you. Nothing is simple. Nothing. 
(But then, Javier thinks of the kinds of songs he sings and the way he takes care of himself and the clothes he wears and maybe Javier has some kind of affinity for preciousness that explains all of it.) 
When Javier confesses his feelings for you - he finds the affair to be like most things between you. Ordinary love, not really between outlaws but people. It’s up against a tree while you share a drink and he’s looking at the curve of your mouth and the plum color Karen’s so kindly put on you. And his head fills with kissing you so he does. A breathless confession between alcohol stains and the feeling of your hands curled in the lapels of his suit. 
From there, Javier is your lover. He’s not interested in the business of secrets, but he tries not to let it show too much. Not that he doesn’t want to. He wants to show you off more than anything - at least some part of him does. But the other part wants to keep you away from prying eyes, keep his love for you only where the both of you can see. If he could keep that pretty lovestruck face you make all to himself forever he would. 
When he gets a chance to whisk you away from everything, Javier jumps at the chance. Not often, but Javier makes time for you. Makes time to indulge in love he thought he’d  never find again. 
That’s why he’s here with you in the middle of nowhere, a ghost town where no one knows you.. A reserved room with a bed and lowlights all to yourselves. 
Javier can’t keep his hands to himself and he doubts you expect him too. 
For Javier, this sense of proximity is what intoxicates him most. The warmth of your bare skin in the slivers of yourself exposed. Javier is fond of finding you like this after a long day of horse riding. Of sneaking touches to your waist as you push back against him to sleep, only to find his desire for you - laid clearly. He likes hearing you whimper feeling his length poke against your back, the embarrassment when it dawns on you that he wants you after all. Always surprised, even though Javier tells you it so often. Whispers it along your neck and shoulders whenever you’re at camp together.
You like the feeling of his hands so Javier always starts with them. He squeezes your hips. Planes his palms over your chest before squeezing your chest, pushing the fat between his fingers. You like the way  they look when they grope you, his chin resting against your shoulder as you spoon. In the lowlights of a cheap hotel - Javier gets the perfect view of your silhouette. Your body is sensitive over the fabric of your gown, heat prickling through you. 
Javier who is always so gentle with you, rouses so deep listening to your whining as he explores your body. The suffocating closeness of a single bed intoxicates him. 
“Javier,” Your voice is sweet and thin. Plays in Javier’s head like music and makes his mouth curl up into a catlike grin as you push back on him.  You look slightly over your shoulder, lips pushed into a pout. “Please,” 
He tugs at the fabric of your nightgown. The top half pulls haphazard underneath your tits, nipples perky and sensitive to touch while the skirt pools at your waist. What gets Javier like this is the desperation. Wanting so much but not being able to look too long. A way for you to mirror him, it’s a matter of possession. In some stupid way. Bunching your clothes up, pushing the fabric of your panties to one side, letting his arm wrap around your waist to touch and tease.  All of these are imprints of his longing, tucked faithful into your side as he whispers sweet nothings into your skin.
His cock twitches as it pushes past your folds with finality, your hands curling up at your sides.  You whimper softly, let your cheek rest against the sheets as Javier takes you on your side. Terribly close, you fuss as you feel him slide every inch into you slow, your hands reaching back for purchase. It’s the fit of you against him so perfect, the silent strokes of intimacy, the hush-hush giggles between the sheets that Javier loves most about fucking you like this. Too enamored with you to look too closely, he lets his eyes flutter closed. He could get drunk just being in your space. 
He carves out space for himself inside of you, feels your cunt accommodate for him like it loves him. A feverishness breaks out as his forehead rests on the space between your shoulders, an uncharacteristic whiny quality in his words. 
“Ser mío,” Javier says - as a reflection of what he really wants, to belong only to you. “Belong to me.” 
Darling as you always are, you nod softly. 
“All yours, Javier,” You whimper, finding his hand. “Forever,”
.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚。⋆ CHARLES SMITH + MATING PRESS ; 
Wandering. 
He’s been doing it his whole life. Not something he’s proud of. Or ashamed of either, really. Just how things have gone for him until now. Charles doesn’t think his life has been any better or any worse than anyone else's. At least not when he weighs it with the same kind of pragmatism he does most things. It’s been a hard life, and a miserable one in so many ways. Still, it’s not something Charles is too keen to dwell on. 
There’s just something thematic about loss in Charles' life in a way he finds completely unpleasant. It’s more constant than anything. Loss of his home, loss of his mother, loss of his father in an attempt to find what’s best for him. It’s some overarching message that hangs over his head like a shadow. Everywhere he goes, trying to rectify his own solitude seems to come back to him. It doesn’t help that it’s an unfair world to start with, and would’ve been if he had just been black or just been native. But Charles is both, and has lived a life that reflects that specific injustice thoroughly. 
There’s not really anything Charles can do about it, at its baseline. When he left his father, the name of the game had simply been survival. He was well-equipped enough for that at least. But after survival comes trying to live and trying to live isn’t something so simple. Jumping in and out of gangs who thought they could get away with slighting him or generally being surrounded by unpleasant people. Trying to find something in pages of book and scripture, or in the way water ripples when it rains. 
He’s never felt any one way towards the gang. Even when he joined them all the way back in the Grizzlies. Lost in the cold, they’d crossed paths as Charles was out hunting. A lot of it feels like a blur. Of all the folks he’s met in his travels though, Dutch treats him fair and the rest of them (or most of them) are decent, honest folk. Charles stays in the Van Der Linde gang for such simple reasons as trying to stay alive and be somewhere that isn’t actively hostile towards him. He’s a good gunman, and a better fighter. The inner workings of gang politics and forging connection isn’t at the forefront of his mind, with the exception of the kindest few. 
The Van Der Linde gang is just a place where he can figure out what his purpose is meant to be, even if he doesn’t find it there. He’s never expecting anything to come out from his loyalties to it. 
Of all the things Charles expects of his life in the Van Der Linde gang, love is at the very bottom of the list. 
Maybe it’s about time he stops being surprised by these things happening to him one or way another.
 You were a member of the gang far before him, and someone Charles took to quickly. You’d joined the gang not too long after John from what Arthur tells him. Though the brunette speaks about you more fondly than he does his brother. A problem child at the start, according to Arthur - always getting into all sorts of trouble. Something you seemingly feel embarrassed about now and refuse to bring up. Charles has a hard time picturing it having only known you as you are. 
The woman you’ve grown into is someone else completely, and Charles sees that in you all the time. Compassionate like Hosea but charismatic like Dutch, and clever. And you’re beautiful, too, though Charles feels a little shallow admitting that’s part of what drew you into him. 
It wasn’t Charles that approached you first. You were the one who spoke to him, as often as you thought necessary but never in a way he found invasive. He doesn’t know what it is exactly about you that charms him near instantly. You’re enigmatic to a fault. It’s like you always know exactly what to say and exactly when to say it. Even more than that, you’re a terribly pleasant person to be around. Subtly warm and free of assumptions. When Charles talks to you about anything, you listen without making him feel like it’s any sort of burden to you. You don’t pry, don’t make missteps. Treat him fair, and then some. 
It’s unbearably simple, just how quickly and how easily he comes to adore you.  And, in some ways, Charles knows better than to believe that his purpose is loving someone. There’s more to it than that, surely - after everything. 
But then, he’ll watch you do something. Watch you do some kind of menial work that he could do for you instead. Thinks of skinning animals for new clothes and chopping wood and rubbing the soap off of you and all of a sudden it makes him feel anchored. Everything he could do for you. You anchor Charles easily, with a wispy smile. Make him want to find purpose in life with you. He never wants to be somewhere you’re not. 
He confesses it to you just like that, and like you do with most things - you accept and reciprocate without making too much of a fuss. 
For Charles, making love is an extension of wanting to ground himself in you. A distant siren song - the intersection of lust and bone deep adoration. Like most things, you’re the one to approach first every time. A soft hand on his forearm, a whisper that you want him. It’s with ease that he draws you away. Drags from you camp during nightfall with his horse and blankets and picks a spot with the perfect view of the stars. 
Charles watches you under the glow of moonlight, his vision adjusting to you easily. Naked underneath him, laid on your back with your legs folded at your knees - heaving deep breaths. He can see the sweat beading down your skin, your chest rising and falling - and the perfect view of your pussy. His hands and mouth are wet as you breathe out. He finds himself smiling at you, his own erection pressed against your thigh, pre-cum leaking out in a mesmerized haze. 
You lift your hands up and he leans down, surprised as you wrap them around his neck and pull him closer to you. Your mouths meet like that, and Charles laughs against your lips as you kiss him so eagerly. You blink at him, pretty. You’re always prettier than he remembers you being the last time he looks. 
“Charles,” You frown at him. “It’s impolite to keep a lady waiting,” 
He kisses the corner of your mouth. “Sorry, my love. I don’t want to hurt you,” 
“Well, I’m fine with it,” You repeat, almost petulant. Charles frowns. “‘Sides, it ain’t my first time taking you, you know?” 
“Well, I’m not fine with it.” 
You pout, looking at him all endeared. Charles couldn’t help but love you even if he tried. “You ain’t gonna hurt me. C’mon. Please?” 
“Please, what?” 
You look at him aghast before breaking out into a faux-scandalized giggle. “Now you—please fuck me. Pretty, please.” 
Charles feels something tickling against his spine hearing you say it. He couldn’t imagine getting sick of you in his whole life.  “Yeah, that’s good to hear.” 
You make an indignant noise but it’s silenced quickly as Charles positions himself against your entrance. He has plenty of discipline when it comes to matters like these, but right now - he feels like he’s going to lose his mind. Not nearly enough patience to wait. He lets his hands go up underneath your knees just to have something to hold onto. 
You make a little gasp as the tip of his cock pushes into you. Your walls are so soft, likely after all the orgasms he’d given you prior. You stop him in a shocked gasp, and Charles immediately readies himself to pull out. As if sensing his hesitance, you shake your head. 
“Charles,” You gasp, the words caught in your throat and hoarse “Deep. Want it deep,” 
His abdomen tightens, cocking twitching hard at your words. He agrees silently to your desires. 
When it comes to sex, there’s very little Charles dislikes.
But this is his favorite. He’s simple but no other position lets him see you so close. He likes the way your eyes widen as he pushes up underneath your knees and folds you underneath his weight. How you look pinned down under him, the perfect view of your eyes rolling back into your head and the proximity from your face to his. He lets his cock stretch you out slowly, throbbing each time your nails dig desperately into arms trying to keep your composure. Fuck you feel so tight like that. Soft pussy, dripping and sticky. You suck him in relentlessly, and Charles groans as he bottoms out. You take every inch of him so well. So perfect like the rest of you. 
Your eyes flutter open as he stays there, buried in you in complete bliss. You’re dazed. 
“Kiss?” 
Surprise followed by adoration, he abides by your request easily. Overwhelmed with it as he presses a chaste peck to your mouth, he laughs. “As many as you want.”
Anything you want, Charles thinks, he would give to you. 
.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚。⋆
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p-artsypants · 6 months ago
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I had a craving for an arranged marriage AU, with a little twist. I have like three other scenes in mind, but no plot. So here's a blurb for now, maybe more someday IDK
This is specifically for @thereweredragonshere as I was looking at her art while writing this.
Okay thanks I love you bye
---
Quietly, so quietly, Hiccup shut his front door behind him. Then he began to tiptoe to his loft. He had been out with the Nightfury, Toothless as he named him, all day. Longer than intended. A lecture was bound to happen because of it. 
“Hiccup,” Stoick stopped him, his voice cutting through the silence and crackling fire. 
“Oh! Dad! I uh…I didn’t see you there…” That was a lie. Such a lie.
“Come, sit. I need a word with you.” 
Hiccup closed his eyes in defeat and slinked over, sheepishly standing across the fire pit. 
“Sit,” Stoick said again, his voice stern in a way that left little room for arguing.
So he obeyed, and sat on the bench, with just enough butt on the chair to be considered sitting, but he was ready to dart away at a moment's notice. 
Stoick wasn’t often physically violent with him, just yelling. In the times he was physical, it was just being lifted and rag dolled out of the way like a bad cat. 
“So…” Hiccup prompted, at an attempt to be casual. 
“I’ve been in communication with the Shivering Shores,” Stoick went on. 
Hiccup relaxed a little. This didn’t seem to concern him all that much. Perhaps his dad just wanted to talk about chief stuff.
“Oh, yeah. I saw the courier boat today.” 
“We finally reached an agreement.” 
“Th-that’s good! Great! An alliance? A treaty?” 
“Trade agreement. Fish for supplies. The dragon raids have been harsh this year and we need all the extra supplies we can get.” 
“I-I agree! I mean…I know the other night wasn’t helpful…” he gulped. 
“Which brings me to the second part of the agreement.” Stoick flicked his eyes over and gazed at his son. “The part that concerns you.” 
“Oh…” Hiccup squeaked. 
“We’re joining our tribes in marriage. I made an offer for the Chief’s youngest daughter to be your bride. He accepted.” 
“Did she?” Hiccup croaked. 
“Doesn’t need to.” 
Hiccup felt very cold and sank into his chair. 
“But,” Stoick continued. “There’s a very specific reason for this arrangement. Chief Hofferson’s daughter, Astrid, has become somewhat famous in the archipelago for her prowess in battle. She is the best warrior on their island, bar none. And she’s your age.” 
His eyes went wide. 
“I told Chief Axel that I was concerned for your safety, and thought his daughter would not only be a worthy bride, but a protector for you.” 
“Oh gods…” 
“She said she would be honored to be your protector.” 
He swallowed. “And…my wife?” 
“She agreed to it.” 
That would have to be enough, he supposed. “On paper?”
“All of this was through courier, yes.” 
Hiccup nodded, his throat feeling too numb to swallow. It was likely that over in the Shivering Shores, Chief Hofferson was having this very same conversation with his daughter, telling her that he agreed to the marriage and wrote that she was honored to accept. 
Hiccup didn’t know what she looked like, but imagined a pretty girl throwing a tantrum and destroying furniture.
Perhaps with a weapon, if the ‘prowess in battle’ was true. 
“This is a good thing, son,” Stoick urged. “You’re too weak to swing a sword, you’ve been completely unprotected during dragon raids—”
“I know.”
“No, I don’t think you do.” Stoick became stern. “You are my only son. My heir. The next chief of Berk. And it seems like you’re determined to perish before you get there!” 
Hiccup winced, thinking back on that roar that Toothless had unleashed in his face. That might have been his closest and most intimate brush with death. And that was just yesterday. 
“Besides the dragons, we have the Outcasts and Berserkers circling us and waiting to pounce. You risking your safety with those Thor’s-damned inventions during a dragon raid is one thing, but a viking raid? They’ll be coming for you, looking for you. And Astrid will be there to protect you. Do you hear what I’m saying?” 
“Yes,” he whispered, ashamed. “I’m hearing ‘bride’ but I think you mean ‘babysitter’.” 
Stoick didn’t argue with that. Just tightened his mouth into a grim line. 
Hiccup just further slouched, crumbling in on himself. How embarrassing! He thought there was a chance he’d have an arranged marriage, given his status, but arranged so that he had a bodyguard? 
“When do I meet the lucky lady?” He attempted a quip, but his voice sounded so hollow. 
“Tomorrow. And you’re wed at the end of the week.” 
He made a loud noise of disgust as he keeled over, nearly falling off the bench. “Geez dad…” 
“It's for the best.” 
“That’s so fast!” He argued. “Can’t I like…get to know her first? Go on a hike? Have a nice candle lit dinner with mead?” 
“You can do that in the week leading up to the wedding. She’ll be practically glued to your side.” 
“Oh gods…” 
“She won’t know anyone else here, won’t know the village layout, or the way we do things. You will teach her.” Stoick stood and lumbered over. He poked Hiccup in the chest. “And you’ll be pleasant about it.” 
Hiccup huffed. “I mean I’ll try my best, but I can’t guarantee I’ll be pleasant if she treats me like the others.” 
“You’ll be pleasant. Nothing else.” 
Hiccup swallowed at the tone, shrinking in his seat. “Okay fine.” 
“Good.” Stoick nodded. “Then off to bed with you. They’ll arrive before dinner. I’ll be off in the morning making preparations for their accommodations. I expect you to be there when the ship arrives, looking your sharpest.” 
“Yes sir,” he grumbled, getting to his feet. He shuffled across the room and back to the stairs. 
As he got ready for bed, and laid down to sleep, he thought about this ‘Astrid’ girl. 
His bride. 
A girl had never shown interest in him before, and this was likely to be the same. But he had heard that arranged marriages often worked out well, with the couple learning to love each other. Wouldn’t that be something? A girl that loved him. A girl to come home to. A girl to share his thoughts and ideas with. 
A girl to share Toothless with. 
No. No, that was crazy. No one, not even his wife could know about what he was planning on doing with that dragon. 
But everything else?
Having a companion might be kind of nice, if he could get used to it. 
And if she was the best warrior in the Shivering Shores, then she ought to be able to keep Snotlout and the Twins off his back. 
Eventually, Hiccup fell asleep, feeling some form of optimism. 
That feeling didn’t last. 
He had woken up early and spent the morning with Toothless in the cove. He poured his guts out to the dragon, lamenting about how his life was completely out of his control. 
Toothless had simply listened and gnawed on a stick. 
Eventually, he returned to the village sometime after lunch. He couldn’t push it, knowing he was on thin ice as it was. He combed his hair and put on a clean tunic. 
Then he spent an hour pacing in the square, listening for the horn that would sound their arrival. 
People passed and gave him smiles and knowing looks, but didn’t say anything. That was fine. He didn’t want to talk to anyone anyway. He was too nervous. 
All they cared about was the party anyway. 
When the horn sounded, he felt his knees buckle. All the anxiety that had been building hit him like a hammer and he tilted sideways. 
“You okay, lad? You look pale!” Gobber called. “I’ve been watching you for the last half hour. You’re makin’ me dizzy!” 
“She’s here,” Hiccup breathed. “She’s here.” 
“Ah, your blushing bride! Better go greet her then, ah?” 
Hiccup thought he nodded, but he might have just bobbed his head like a chicken, then wobbled off to go down to the docks. 
Stoick smiled when he arrived. “There you are! Right on time!” 
“I’m going to be sick.” 
Stoick clapped him on the back, making him swallow the bile that was rising. “It’s pretty nerve-wracking, I know, but it’ll be fine. She’s probably just as nervous.” 
In a way, that helped. If Astrid was stuttering and blushing through introductions, he could handle it. 
The ships came into dock, and Hiccup stood on his tiptoes to try to see over the high sides. There were several people, but he couldn’t quite pick out who Astrid could be.
The ramp fell over the side, and the party disembarked. There were a pair of soldiers out first, followed by a man who could only be Chief Axel the Arduous. He was large; not as large as his father, of course. But he wore the chief’s fur cloak and pendants, just as his father did. 
Axel grinned widely. “Greetings my friends!” 
“Good tidings!” Stoick grasped his hand in a strong clasp. “You had a pleasant journey?” 
“Yes, very good! Good weather! Good head wind! A good omen from the gods, to be sure!” 
As the chiefs talked, three women disembarked the ship. One was older, likely the chief’s wife, while the other two were teenagers. They were all blonde and blue-eyed and pretty. 
And rather delicate, in Hiccup’s opinion. Not that they weren’t still bigger than him, but he didn’t get the vibe of ‘best warrior’ from any of them. They were all wearing fine dresses and giggling to each other. 
“Stoick, this is my wife, Phlegma,” Axel gestured. “And my two eldest daughters, Ingrid and Sigurd.” 
The two girls tittered as they looked at Hiccup. He saw one mouth to the other, “look at how tiny he is.” 
Not a real ego booster, to be sure. 
“I thought your youngest was to be married?” Stoick calmly questioned. 
“Astrid will be out in a moment, I’m sure,” Axel sighed, a bit exasperated. 
“Poor thing’s a nervous wreck,” Phlegma added. “She’s putting her armor on. She wanted to make a good impression, afterall.” 
Hiccup sighed slightly, reassured that he wasn’t the only one completely psyched out of his mind. 
However, his world turned upside down as a huge figure leapt from the side of the boat and landed on the dock in front of him. It was a valkyrie if there ever was one. She raised to her full height, towering over him by a foot or more. She was almost the same height as his father! 
She was toned, with thick corded muscles in her arms and what was visible of her legs between her spiked skirt and studded boots. She wore studden pauldrons and gauntlets as well. Her body was thick and solid, curvy in all the right places, and no doubt trained to apex danger. 
But her face was soft. Delicate cheeks and a softly rounded chin. A cute button nose with a gentle sweeping brow. Beautiful, explosive blue eyes surrounded by thick gold lashes. All of it was haloed by a swath of sunshine gold hair braided over her shoulder. 
How a creature could be so scarily tough and the epitome of feminine beauty at the same time, he had no idea. 
“What an entrance!” Stoick laughed. 
This new warrior had a calm and cool facade as she answered, “I panicked.” Then she bowed slightly, dipping her head with respect. “Chief Stoick, it’s an honor. I’m Astrid Hofferson.” 
“A pleasure, my dear!” He held out a hand. 
She shook it, and Hiccup could see that her hands were rough, but not big and meaty like his father’s.
“And this is my son, Hiccup.” He placed a hand on his back. 
Hiccup could only grin awkwardly, getting lost in those blue eyes. How was this girl the same age as him? 
“Hello,” she said softly. Then she glanced back at Stoick, seemingly waiting for something. 
Stoick nodded slowly and tried again. “This is my only son, Hiccup…your husband to be.” 
She inhaled briefly at that, and let out a soft, “Oh.” Her exhale was slow and she whispered, “I see.”  
Hiccup cast his gaze to the ground as he held his arm. This girl was just as disappointed as everyone else was, and he hadn’t even done anything yet. 
“Is that how you would greet your betrothed?” Axel asked. 
“Oh come on dear, she’s nervous,” Phlegma argued back. 
But apparently Axel’s words stirred something in Astrid as she took a quick stride forward and reached out and took Hiccup’s hand. Then she leaned down and pressed a sweet kiss to his cheek. 
“D-Duh?” Hiccup blurted, smartly. 
She smiled at him, a dusting of pink on her perfect cheeks. “Hello darling.” 
“H-h-hi,” he stuttered out. “I’m Hiccup.” 
She gave a nod. “Astrid.” 
His feet felt like they were made of stone as he stood there, stock still and staring. And Astrid continued to hold her smile, but her eyebrow started to raise. 
“Son,” Stoick patted his shoulder. “Why don’t you show Astrid around the village?” 
“What? Oh! Yes! Of course! The village! My village! Where I–where we live, where you will live also…ha!” He spoke a bit too loudly, and he could feel his face burning. 
Astrid just tilted her head slightly to the side as her eyes widened, but her grin got bigger. Was she annoyed and trying to hide it? She hadn’t let go of his hand yet though. “Okay, lead the way.” 
He gulped, and looked over to his father. 
“Go on,” Stoick whispered, making a shooing motion.
“Uh…th-this way…” he said, pulling her along by the hand. 
Once they were a little ways away, Stoick and Axel resumed their conversation, but they were so loud, Hiccup could hear. 
“You weren’t kidding, Stoick! He’s a fishbone of a boy! Astrid’ll take good care of him!” 
Hiccup’s shoulders drooped and he turned his face away from his betrothed, ashamed, embarrassed. 
Astrid didn’t seem to notice though. “What’s that?” 
He glanced up where she was pointing. “Oh, that’s the Kill Ring, where we uh…kill things. Mainly dragons.” 
“You’ve killed a dragon?” Her voice was curious, not skeptical, which was refreshing. 
“No no, not me personally. I…I couldn’t kill a dragon.” 
“Hmm,” she nodded, accepting this answer. 
She was calm, cool, and collected. Apparently that’s what nervousness looked like to this hulking goddess. 
Still holding her hand, he led her over to the arena, trying to think of something to say, but being too nervous to do so. Thankfully, Astrid just patiently held his hand and looked around, taking everything in. They crossed the bridge and came to stand at the edge of the arena. 
Two people were sparring inside. Astrid let go of his hand to grasp at the chains of the dome. “Who are they?” 
“That’s Snotlout and Tuffnut. Snotlout’s my cousin, and Tuffnut has a twin sister, Ruffnut.” 
“Friends of yours then?” 
“...not really, no.” 
She smirked. “Good, because their technique is dog shit.” 
Hiccup sputtered a laugh, unable to help himself. This drew the attention of the boys in the ring. 
“Hey Useless!” Called Snotlout. “Who’s the babe?” 
Hiccup flushed in indignation, but Astrid answered instead, cooly. “Astrid Hofferson, though I’ll be Astrid Haddock at the end of the week.” 
“No way!” Snotlout laughed. “That’s your bride to be!? I would have thought Stoick would have found someone in your weight class at least!” 
Hiccup hunched his shoulders. 
Astrid just scoffed at the ring, took his hand, and led him away. “I can see why you aren’t friends with them. He’s kind of an asshole.” 
“No ‘kind of’ about it, he is an asshole. Sorry you had to meet him first. The rest of Berk isn’t as terrible as that.” 
“It’s fine, Hiccup. There were boys like that on the Shivering Shores too.” 
Things were going okay, he thought. Could be better, but Astrid was taking a lot really well. She seemed so mature and cool, it made him extremely guilty. 
“I’m sorry,” he blurted. 
She merely raised an eyebrow. “For what? You didn’t do anything.” 
“Sometimes that’s enough…but uh, f-for getting you into this arranged marriage. It’s probably not what you wanted to do with your life. You could be a great warrior, but…now you have to babysit me because my dad thinks I’m so useless I can’t even breathe on my own. So…sorry.” 
To his surprise, she smiled at him and ruffled his hair. “First of all, did you request me as your bride? Did you ask your dad to make the contract?” 
“No.” 
“Thought so. So nothing to apologize there for. Second, I’m the youngest of my father’s daughters. As a daughter of a chief, it’s almost guaranteed I’ll be in an arranged marriage, so that wasn’t a surprise. But as the youngest, I probably would have been married to a much older man, maybe even a widower. He would have expected me to be barefoot in the kitchen and popping out babies the rest of my life.” 
Hiccup stared at her, nodding slowly as her logic made sense. He’d heard of stuff like that happening. 
“Because I’m so tall, I decided to pour all my free time into training, with the hope that my future husband would see I was a worthy warrior and I wouldn’t be trapped in the kitchen. It was a long shot, but worth it to me.” 
His eyes widened. “So, you kind of got what you wanted. My dad picked you for me because of your skill, and not your status.” 
“Exactly! Plus, you’re the same age as me, and you’re the heir! I’ll be chieftess someday! That’s not something I thought would happen to me.” 
“Well,” he sheepishly shrugged his shoulders. “I can hope I’ll be chief. Some people in town might think differently.” 
“Regardless, I’m happy.”
“Even though I’m so small? I can’t pick you up, Astrid. You’ll have to lean down to kiss me during our wedding. Isn’t that…embarrassing?” 
She shrugged. “I’ve been teased about my height my whole life. Boys called me ‘Treetop’ back at home, and said I’d never get a date because men didn’t want a woman taller than them. I always assumed my husband would be shorter than me.” 
“...and I kind of figured my wife would be taller.” 
She grinned. “So see! We’re on the same page!” 
He chuckled. “I guess so.” 
“Come on! Show me around! Introduce me to your friends!” 
He blanched. “Ah…yeah, my friends…”
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theseinfernalangels · 3 months ago
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hellooo i’m not sure if your lil blurb requests are still open but if they are could you do 33 or 38 with bodhi?
38: Whispering, “I love you,” before a chaste, delicate kiss.
“Durran!” A squadmate’s voice rings out from across the gym. “You coming?”
The aforementioned boy blinks once or twice, glancing at the door and then back at you.
“No,” he replies easily. “I’ll catch up.”
“Well, don’t cut it close,” his squadmate chides, pursing her lips. “I don’t want to get in trouble just because you have the hots for a Squad Leader.”
Bodhi grumbles under his breath and turns to face you again, still coaching the First-Years whilst they sparred. He wants to go stand with you so badly, but he also understands how it would look to everyone else: A marked Squad Leader with a marked First-Year clinging to her shoulder — they’d either think you were plotting something or sleeping together, and while Bodhi didn’t mind the latter, he didn’t feel like having people stare at him suspiciously more than they already did.
So, he opts to sit and watch from against the wall, admiring your strict demeanor that he didn’t get to see outside your duties. Barking commands, scolding missteps, studying the fighting First-Years with a critical eye and pointing out their blind spots. Oh, yes; Bodhi likes it when you’re all soft and nice to him, but it’s undeniably hotter when you’re not.
“Time!” You call out after about ten minutes. “Take a water break and breathe. We start again in five minutes.”
You turn and slink over to Bodhi, whose eyes light up as he sees you approach.
“You’re stalking me now?” You quip, cuffing him on his marked shoulder.
He grins but shakes his head. “I had some extra time. I wanted to see you.”
The look that crosses your face is a mix of fondness and exasperation. “Bodhi,” you huff, “you can’t just do that. You go where your squad goes. That’s the rule for First-Years.”
“Sure.” He shrugs. “Because the squad is the heart of the school, and whatever bullshit they said.” He pauses. “What about what’s in my heart, huh?”
You snort, shaking your head. “Alright, little poet. Don’t get all philosophical and romancey on me now. You have to get out of here.”
He pouts, his pretty lips dipping ever so slightly. “But I like being romancey with you,” he protests. “And don’t pretend you don’t like it, either.”
You nod. “That’s fair,” you acknowledge. “But what I don’t like is you trying to bend the rules just to come be with me.”
You leave the last part of your sentence unspoken. As sweet as that is, anyway. 
Bodhi opens his mouth to whine again, but he’s cut off by a yell from outside. “Durran! Get your ass out here now. Don’t make me report you to leadership just because you’re feeling rebellious today. It’d be a damn shame.”
You stiffen, your watchful eyes sharpening at the obvious taunts. Feeling rebellious. It seems like no matter what you or your friends do, you still can’t keep angry cadets off of your backs — especially Bodhi, whose jaw clenches a little. There was no fighting it some days, and this just happened to be one of those days.
You lean towards him, brushing a thumb over his cheekbone. “Hey,” you soothe, pressing a kiss right under his eye. “I love you, okay? Get out of here. I’ll come find you later, when things die down.”
The smile that Bodhi shoots you is strained. “Gotcha,” he mumbles, sliding from his place and kissing your forehead. “I miss you, you know.”
Your heart twists as you watch him walk away reluctantly, as if he was considering putting up a fight just to stay.
“I know.” The words are quiet enough that he can’t hear them. “Trust me, I know.”
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bloodibambiidoll · 8 months ago
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The copying in the Outer Banks fandom has gotten completely out of hand. I am not only speaking for myself, but for people who I’ve also witnessed this happening to. It seems that some of you have the mentality of “oh! Well this has probably been done before in fanfiction so it’s not copying because they didn’t invent it!” But if you see someone’s post, and take inspiration from it IN ANY WAY, you need to credit them for it.
It doesn’t matter if it’s a moodboard of a fic they haven’t posted yet. Or just a simple thought they put out into the universe. Even if you use someone’s gif they took the time to make and share, there needs to be credit. I think the over abundance of !Readers has made a lot of regurgitation happening between blogs in this fandom. And I’m not saying you shouldn’t write them, but they’re all the same. Spice it up. And when there is something new? I see it ripped off over and over again until it’s like a telephone game and the original poster is lost in the wind.
It fucking HURTS to put your time, creativity, energy, and care into something and then see someone else take your idea, not even make it their own, and then proceed to give you zero credit for it. Taking inspiration from people is a fundamental human reaction that every person does. But it doesn’t matter if it was malicious. It still hurts just the same. I have posted moodboards teasing my AUs and have had people take that idea and write it before I can ever even post my fic. It fucking sucks. It’s discouraging. And it’s just fucking rude and inconsiderate as hell.
On top of that, it’s fucking boring. Why would you want to march to the beat of every other person in this fandoms drum? Fanfiction is about being whoever the fuck you want, writing whatever the fuck you want, but it seems like people care more about notes and what others think than the actual content they’re putting out. This fandom needs to be less about the aesthetics and more about the content. I’m tired of reading the same thing over and over again. I’m tired of the 500-1k blurbs that throw me right into the smut with no plot or backstory.
Don’t get me wrong, I love a little smut blurb down, but when it’s all you see? It’s gets old. But that being said, the lack of support on longer fics, smut, and angst, is extremely discouraging to writers and it causes us to not want to take the time and effort to write those longer things because while notes aren’t everything, feeling unappreciated in any capacity is shitty. It’s a byproduct of itself.
We need to be more courteous of others. There needs to credit given when inspiration is taken from others. There needs to be less worry about what other people like, what other people will think and more focus on the creativity and the fun of fanfiction. Something needs to change because I have been seeing this almost daily. I have had friends and mutuals coming to me for these exact feelings I’m feeling and it’s discouraging and exhausting to see. There’s also this fear around calling people out for stealing because whenever someone does, hell rains down on them. It’s not cute. People should be allowed to defend their creativity on their own blog.
And they wouldn’t have to. If everyone just started giving credit where credit is due.
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shawnxstyles · 2 years ago
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DATE: SEPTEMBER 9, 2023
summary: you can’t stop thinking about your first orgasm, so you try to relieve yourself of the ache. when you’re left unsatisfied, you reach out to harry for some guided practice.
words: 6.6k
requested: a bunch!
warnings: SMUT (f- receiving [masturbation, dry humping (?), thigh riding/rubbing], praise kink, dirty talk), language, and two horny best friends
note: this is a new series i plan on writing (but i don’t know if i want it to have a plot or just blurbs)!! i literally have so many requests (what’s new…), but i have a lot of motivation to write this right now, plus i’ve gotten a lot of requests for it as well. i hope you guys don’t mind the delay of my other writings… x PART THREE
bestfriendrry x inexperienced!reader
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It’s been a week since you last saw Harry.
Yeah, you’ve texted here and there. Maybe if you saw some funny video that you just had to tag him in or vice versa you would, but you haven’t actually seen him. Not physically. You think if you did, you might just die.
The second that you rose up from his bathroom floor after having your first orgasm ever (and mind you, it was mind-blowing), you stiffly cuddled up with him on the couch to watch the movie he picked out. If he seemed confused by your quietness or hardened body, he didn’t say it. Your head on his chest would vibrate every time he laughed at something funny, but it was hard for you to voice some of your own giggles out. You couldn’t focus on anything other than his body pressed against yours, so similarly yet so differently to how it was merely hours before.
From your position, you were able to feel his heart beating, organ pumping blood and keeping him alive. Stable. And that’s all you felt from him; his stableness and calmness. Your heart was thrashing around anxiously in your rising chest while he was just calm. His lively beat was as calm as the ocean waves, so relaxing that you drifted off to sleep before the movie had ended.
In a deep, much-needed slumber, Harry could feel your body loosen up. He didn’t want to say anything, but he could feel your tenseness. That was the opposite of what he wanted to happen. Orgasms were supposed to make a person relaxed and stress-free, but your body felt nothing like that. He could practically hear all your anxious gears overthinking in your little head. He wanted to pry every thought out and reassure you that whatever you’re thinking is fine and that he’s there for you. But he knew he had coaxed enough out of you when you spilled out your biggest secret to him, earning yourself your first orgasm in the process.
So, Harry never brought it up. Not through the funny parts of the movie, the romantic scenes, or even the ads. He just let the air between you guys grow incredibly thick with your silence, but pretended like he could see through the fog. He remained as nonchalant as possible–it was his forte after all. After you fell asleep, Harry let the movie ride out. He tried to pay attention the whole time instead of pondering what you might be thinking, but he didn’t do too well. If someone were to quiz him on the film, he would fail horribly.
Harry shuts the television off and cradles you up into his arms. Your head lumped onto his shoulder like dead weight before you snuggled up right into his neck. Harry had carried you many times before, and even more times while you’re asleep like that, but the way his skin was getting all warm and melty was something he’d never experienced with you. Your nose was right up against his pulse and it made him feel sensitive and vulnerable, but also so warm and alive. It was really hard for him to stay calm.
When he reached his bedroom, he gently unwrapped you from his body and laid you on his bed. He watched in awe as you immediately curled into a ball like a fetus, trying to hold on to something for comfort. After a few minutes, Harry joined you in his bed and threw your hands around him. Your subconscious didn’t hesitate to scoot closer and bathe in his body heat, snuggling into your favorite pillow; his chest.
It was really hard to stay calm.
You both woke up and went on your way for that day as if nothing happened. You had an afternoon lecture that you had to catch and Harry had to go to work. It was alright. Everything was fine. Everything was normal. Right?
But you couldn’t stop thinking about Harry.
Normally, that would never have been a problem. He’s your best friend, so of course you think about him all the time! Sometimes, you’ll see a sign or a poster on the news board when walking to class that reminds you of one of your guys’ inside jokes that you just have to send to him. If he sees something too, he’ll send it your way. You both find it fun and endearing at the same time because that’s what best friends do; so alike and attuned that they’re always on the same wavelength of thinking. It was normal. But the way you’re obsessively thinking about Harry isn’t normal. You couldn’t even convince yourself that it was and that’s saying something.
Your mind kept drifting off to the way everything played out last week. Even when you were in class on Friday afternoon (one week later) you just couldn’t help thinking of the cold bathroom floor and the fiery body pressed against you. It was so contrasting–it was so wrong. The angel and the devil on your shoulders were bickering more than ever, and you didn’t have a clue whose side you were on.
Harry’s assertive voice echoed in your head, almost as if you were trying to remember it. You had never heard him talk the way he was talking to you last Thursday. It was deep, sultry, and demanding—something you never would have known you liked. You’re not even sure if you actually liked that or if you just liked when Harry did it. Well, you don’t really have anything to base your sexual likings on yet…
When his hands delicately touched and teased you, down your stomach, down your thighs, you felt it. You felt it for days after. His touch lingered like a ghost on your skin, etching a tattoo of himself on you forever. It was blinding and fogging your vision so much, you couldn’t even focus in class. The second that your Friday class was over, you shot straight home. You didn’t look at your phone as you hurriedly discarded your shoes and jacket and stumbled into your bedroom.
You plopped yourself on your mattress with a familiar goal in mind that you were never able to achieve before; you were going to masturbate. Now that you could do it, you were going to relieve yourself of this… stress.
It only took a few seconds before your clothes were completely off and your head was planted against the headboard. You widened your legs and watched your lips slowly pry themselves open with the stretch. You swallowed, small anxiety bubbling in your throat. But you knew what you were doing now. You knew how to do it right because Harry showed you.
Oh fuck. You should not be thinking about Harry right now.
A small amount of wetness coated your labia. It was inevitable–the second his name popped into your head, your mind began to not only recall but wander. You remembered his gravelly voice in your ear, guiding you, showing you, teasing you, praising you. You remembered the ghost of his touch that you attempted to replicate with your own, but it wasn’t the same. And of course, you remembered his bulge that was harshly pressing into your lower back, pleading to be helped. You remembered everything a little too vividly, but it made you so wet thinking about it, and it made it so easy to rub the little button that Harry showed you.
Your clit was puffy, swollen, and needy just like you. Your middle finger circled over it with desperation, snatching some of your wetness to make it sloppier. Your breath started to become unsteady as your eyes trained on your pussy, now soaking with your arousal.
This is when your mind begins to wander. You start imagining things that you haven’t done with Harry yet, but were so intrigued by. You imagined getting on your knees for him and taking him in your mouth, so you could finally relieve his bulky ache. He would encourage you, caress you, and call you a “good girl” in his thick, leather-like voice. The thought of satisfying him until he’s groaning above you has you spreading your legs wider and spinning your finger around your clit faster.
Just like Harry did, you snake your hand up to one of your peaked nipples. You found it was difficult to rub yourself while also tweaking your pebbled buds. It was definitely something you needed to gain muscle memory on, especially if you planned on doing this when you got stressed. Which was often.
You didn’t know how often you would get wet though. You hoped it wasn’t too frequently because like right now, you weren’t completely fulfilled. If you had to do this every other day, you would probably be even more upset if you weren’t satisfied each time. You felt that chase-like desire bubbling up inside of you, like with Harry, but it wasn’t nearly as blissful. Maybe the first one is always better than the rest and with each one you’ll just be a little more disappointed as time goes on. But as a shrieked moan leaves your mouth when you orgasm, a small voice in the back of your head is telling you the real reason you’re not satisfied.
Harry isn’t here.
On Saturday morning, after sleeping like shit under your shoe, you asked Harry if you could come over. Usually, you would have more self-control, but there was something about an orgasm that strangled and stole any self-preservation you had.
When you woke up, you went straight to the bathroom just to find out you were wet. Again. The word really? spilled from your lips before you could stop it. You assumed that you had some type of dirty dream, and you wouldn’t be surprised if it was about Harry. But you’re glad you didn’t remember it. You were hurriedly wiping up your mess and tossing your shorts in your laundry bin. In some type of rush, you took a speedy shower like it was a competition.
Then you stared at your phone, wondering if you should do it. Should you text Harry? You’ve never thought about it this much ever, but one message could mean everything if he looked at it right. What if he thought you were obsessed with him?
No, don’t think that.
Texting your best friend is normal. Asking your best friend for sexual help was normal too. Right…?
Y/N: hey, what are you doing today?
You felt a little nervous. Not because you were texting Harry but because of what your intentions were. What if he felt like you were just using him? Your heart spiked when you saw the three small bubbles.
Harry: I just got off work
Harry: Want to come over?
He knew you too well.
The second he texted you he was home, you went towards his place. With every red light you hit, you bubbled with anticipation, drumming your fingertips on the steering wheel. Your anxiousness turned into a ball of excitement when you were actually in front of his door.
He opened it with a charming smile, one that you recognized all too well. You welcomed yourself inside and tried to seem as normal as possible. But you couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Your mind kept wandering back to that feeling in your lower stomach.
“So… how was work?” You asked, creating some small talk as you plopped yourself on his couch. The very couch where everything started.
That was not helping.
Harry gave you a look, one with squinted eyes and a half chuckle. “Fine? What’s up?”
“What’s down?” You cringed as the words came out, your nervousness shining through.
“Why are you acting so weird? Are you okay, Doll?” Your stomach simmered at the nickname, differently than ever before. You had a feeling that name was never going to be the same for you again. You sighed, squeezing your legs together as Harry dropped himself next to you. His close proximity was nearly killing you. Not only did he radiate warmth but he smelt good—like he just showered in a tropical forest.
What is wrong with him?
“I’m not fine,” You admitted as your head fell in your hands. Harry grew concerned with scrunched eyebrows, throwing an arm around the back of the couch and waited for you to continue. When you didn’t, he asked.
“Well, d’you want to tell me what’s wrong or just sit ‘ere and complain? C’mon, Doll.”
You groaned, crossing your legs. The throbbing between them was so prominent, it was like a second heartbeat. Your hands balled into fists on your side, nails digging into your palms. Harry watched all your movements that you tried to withstrain.
“You can’t call me that anymore.”
“Woah, what?” Harry’s eyebrows jumped, extremely puzzled and surprised by your attitude. You’ve never had a problem with the name for the years he’s been saying it, so what changed?
“It’s—it’s killing me, H! Everything you’re doing is… just killing me and I don’t know why. I think I might explode. Is this what dying feels like?” You admitted, throwing your hands over your eyes again as a way to hide in embarrassment. Harry feels himself relax a bit, he even chuckles in the air you thought was thick with tension. When you hear his laugh, you look at him like he’s crazy. “This isn’t funny!”
“Oh but it is.” It was evident that Harry knew you weren’t actually upset with him. You were just innocently turned on so much that you were frustrated. And Harry so happened to be the only one to know your little secret. So why wouldn’t you come to him?
“No, you ruined me. Am I going to be… like this forever?”
“What, you mean horny? Probably.”
“Ugh, I hate you.”
“Then why are you here?” he smirks, patiently waiting for you to confess. You huffed under your breath while your eyes stared at your legs, thighs squeezing together at his cockiness. You were so annoyed at his control, but your body for some reason got off on it. You needed whatever he had because clearly only he could give it to you. “Look at me.”
You craned your neck up faster than you would have liked to admit, glaring at his darkening green eyes. A heat swirled not only in the pits of your stomach but in the air around you both, suffocating you with its tension. After gazing at your appearance for longer than necessary, his smirk deepens, which you didn’t even know was possible.
“I have a feeling…” he starts as his hand slowly creeps towards your neck from the back of the couch. “That you’re unsatisfied.”
“Yes,” You grumbled.
“Did you try to relieve your ache? Or did you just let it build up? Either way, you found yourself here.”
Your skin ran hot. Fiery hot. His hand brushed over your neck and he could definitely feel the scorching flames of your skin. Your heart was racing trying to keep up with your body’s excitement, making your eyes blown out and wide.
“I… tried to relieve it.”
“Did you do it the way I taught you?”
“…yes.”
“Did you feel satisfied?” You took a pause before responding, but Harry knew the answer.
“No,” You were honest, just like before. A part of you felt ashamed again, too. Maybe you didn’t do it right and you were just a lost cause. Instead of looking sad at your predicament like last time, Harry smirked. That fucking smirk. It meant he knew something you didn’t and that frustrated you more.
“So I was right. You just need a little help s’all,” his thick hand gently squeezed your neck, causing you to hum and close your eyes. He loved how responsive and sensitive you were, it lit a fire in him. “So how’d you do it, hm?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, walk me through it. What made you want to masturbate in the first place?”
Your eyes shot open and looked as far away from him as possible. Your body clearly stiffened and got anxious from the question. You felt your hips squirm in their tight position on the couch, begging to move. Your little button was throbbing, so much it was becoming painful.
“Don’t lie. I can’t help you then,” Harry was being taunting and condescending. A tingle sparked within you, urging you to be truthful. You hoped he would help you like before because like you said, it was getting painful and you were getting desperate.
“I-I kept thinking about last week.”
“What part?”
“Um, the whole thing,” You bit your lip, twiddling your fingers.
“Be specific.”
“Harry…” You practically whined, covering your face for the third time in embarrassment. “Can you just… make it go away please? It obviously didn’t work when I did it.”
“‘Course I will, just walk me through what happened first.”
“Fine,” You took a deep breath and put your head up. You positioned your body to face him, trying to speak with confidence. “I got distracted in class and was thinking about…you know…and then I went home. I was so stressed that I just decided to do it, but I couldn’t do it unless…”
“Unless what, Doll?”
That fucking name.
You don’t know if it was from his deep voice. Or from his demanding tone. Or his hand squeezing at the pulse point of your neck, but you whimpered. The smallest and most delicate sound that couldn’t have even been recognized by a high-definition microphone. But Harry heard it, and it made him go absolutely berserk.
“Unless I thought of you.”
“Fuck, Y/N. I’ve corrupted you, huh?” he squeezes your neck again reassuringly as you mewl in his grasp, a little less ashamed than before. “Well, you came all this way…”
“Please, Harry,” You delicately begged, trying not to sound as desperate as you were. Because, fuck, were you desperate. With every simple, warm caress of his hand on your neck you thought you were going to suffocate from holding your breath.
“Take off your shorts.” It was an easy command to follow. Harry’s assertive tone sent chills down your spine and a fiery tingle in the pit of your stomach. The same type of tingle you felt whenever you thought about the bathroom incident. But you were never able to dull the flame alone.
Maybe you weren’t supposed to.
Without another word, Harry’s hand snakes down to your waist joined by his other one as he lifts you up and onto his lap. Your lungs deflate, releasing a shaky breath full of your anticipation. Your legs were on either side of his, spreading you open just enough to feel yourself leak into your panties. Resting your hands on his shoulders, you wait for him to tell you what to do.
“Show me what y’got,” his reassuring hand slips from your waist and rests on the arm of the couch. Your expression falls in disappointment.
“What? I thought you were helping me!”
“This is helping you. I have to see what y’did wrong so I can help you fix it. There’s a method to my madness, love.”
“Yeah, yeah,” You rolled your eyes. He’s said that line growing up too many times to count. You used to tell him to shut up every time, but now you’re just immune to his cheekiness. The context was very different now, and that line may never be the same.
“Hey, don’t roll your eyes at me. Do y’want my help or not?”
“Okay, okay!” You assured, your cunt still throbbing against the cotton of your underwear. You swallowed once the playfulness died down, silence surrounding you both. The only thing left was for you to start, which you found extremely embarrassing. “So I just…”
“Do exactly what you did. Walk me through it.”
You took a deep breath before discarding your shirt. You tried not to think about how Harry was looking directly at your body now without the reflection of a mirror. He didn’t hide the way his gaze lingered on specific parts, almost as if he was memorizing each little detail. If you weren’t so hyper focused on remembering what you did and what he told you, you would find it somewhat endearing (and embarrassing).
With trembling hands, you threw off your shirt to tweak at your peaked nipples, just like you had done yesterday. They felt raw and sore between your fingertips. With each twist came a small aftershock of pain, but you only continued to roll the bud. You kind of liked how it hurt a little…
While one hand focused on your breasts, the other began to slide down between your legs. After passing your torso, your fingers slipped underneath the band of your underwear. The pads make contact with your aching clit, just like before, but it was different. When you did it alone, it felt stressful and rushed. But right now, it feels more electrifying and dizzying than before.
Maybe it was because Harry was here and that he was watching you like a hawk. His mere presence was alluring and intensified every touch. His eyes were trained on your every movement, analyzing and critiquing you with those thorn-like pupils. You wanted to know what he was thinking, but you were starting to get too caught up in your own pleasure to care.
“Oh, f-fuck,” You sighed and rocked your hips subconsciously over Harry’s thighs. He sharply inhales, but you don’t register the sound because you’re too busy making your own. You didn’t notice Harry’s growing bulge, merely a few inches away from your dripping cunt.
Your eyelids start to tighten, screwing shut as your thighs quiver. That familiar rush was approaching you fast, and just when you thought it couldn’t come any faster, Harry finally does something. He speaks.
“Almost there already? You are desperate, aren’t you, Doll?” Harry’s tone could pass as pitiful or even taunting as his hand creeps towards your pivoting waist. But the raspy deepness of it is what sends you over the edge. Your fingers squeeze your nipple while your fingers circle your pulsating clit. All of your movements stop as your body overloads, coming down from the much-needed orgasm. Your hand slaps onto his broad shoulder for support as you quietly chant his name with a squirm of your hips. “All the way. There y’go, angel.”
With some labored breathing, you finally peel your eyes open to a smirking Harry. Your skin flushed in sudden embarrassment, realizing your position. You immediately think to move off of him, especially after just coming in your panties, but his hand on your hip keeps a firm grip.
“We’re not done yet. You haven’t even heard my thoughts.”
“…What are your thoughts?” You were a little intimated, which is something you never thought you’d be by your best friend.
You had some thoughts and feelings of your own. Yes, this orgasm was better than the one you did alone. But it was nowhere near as satisfying as the one Harry did for you. Why was that? It internally frustrated you that Harry was so good at what he did, but a small—smidge little speck—of you was proud that your best friend was good in bed. Well, you don’t know about all aspects, but you could assume.
You should not be thinking about that!
And maybe another tiny part of you was glad to be one of the people experiencing his euphoria.
“I thought it was pretty good. Pretty good for your what? Third time? Well, second by yourself. Could use some work,” Harry tried to be as nonchalant as possible. His cock was raging in his shorts, just begging to be let out for some relief. He’s not going to lie and say he hasn’t thought about his best friend in a sexual way since their sexual intercounter because he totally has.
What he hasn’t done is jerk off to you. He refuses to stoop that low because in a way, that made him feel dirty, like he was using you somehow. When he came home from work the day after everything, he had to call up one of the numbers in his phone to help settle his little problem. Okay, yes, that might seem hypocritical, but he doesn’t care about jerking off to random people or using his friendly benefits to get off quickly. That’s exactly what they were for. You, on the other hand, were not for that purpose. You are his best friend who just needs a little… guidance in the sexual field. And luckily, Harry has a lot of experience that he is (for some reason) very willing to share.
You were just about to roll your eyes when Harry’s grip tightened even more as a warning. He just knew you too well.
“I want to try something. Willin’ to try something new?” You felt the pacing of your already quick heart accelerate. Your eyes were wide and full of wonder, innocence draped over you like a bedsheet.
“Yeah. That’s the point of this, right?” Your voice sounded a little hesitant, similar to the way Harry blinked. You swallowed your anxiousness down as Harry nodded.
His hands guide your hips over onto his lap. You instantly get flashbacks from last week, his warm hands stilling your hips and rubbing gentle circles on your burning skin. But this time, he adjusts you so you’re sitting on one of his thighs. Your panties were directly on his athletic shorts and it was comfortable, but you had an urge to be closer. You needed skin to skin contact.
Was that too much? Too far?
“Actually,” As if he could read your mind, “I’m going to pull these up, okay?”
With a nod, he tugs his shorts up, revealing his large tiger tattoo. You nearly forgot he had it. As your eyes fixate on the impressive ink, you find yourself becoming a little dizzy with lust. Not only was the tattoo cool but the placement almost had you fainting. You watched his thigh muscles contract when he shifted his hips, the tiger pulsing and looking like a great seat.
Harry was going to—no did—ruin you…
Next, he pulled you forward, nearly causing you to collapse on him. Now, your covered center is directly on his bare thigh, lightly pressing against his thickness.
“Y’real warm, Doll,” Harry observes, hands subconsciously slotting their way onto that soft spot of your hips. You felt as though they belonged there now. Your skin blushed, heat bubbling inside of you at his comment. You couldn’t help but feel shy with his eyes gazing at your every move. Legs wanting to close, you force yourself to keep them open around his waist. Just like he taught you.
“What do I do now?” You didn't really know what to do with your hands and it was evident. Harry saw this, however, and threw your lonesome hands over his shoulders. His action caused you to lean closer towards him, faces merely a few inches apart. You swallowed, but your throat was dry, and your heart was running a mile in record time. You could feel every breath fall onto your face because you were in such close proximity. You wanted to kiss him badly. It was strange because you’ve never felt such a pull towards him.
“I want you to use me.”
“What?” You blinked.
“Use me. Move your hips on m’thigh until it feels really good.”
“I…I don’t know how,” You admitted, fingers trembling within each other behind his neck. A soft, reassuring smile rests upon his lips, and before he even said anything, you already felt a little better.
“Just move first and I’ll help you as you go. Do you remember what to say if you want to stop?” he asked with gentleness as his hand curled on your hip, kneading it with care. You nodded, but that wasn’t enough. He pinned you with a knowing look.
“Stop is red, yellow is slow down, and green is good.”
“You remembered. Good girl,” The two simple words made you flutter inside and out. But they also motivated you to strive and really be a good girl for him.
You released your interlocked fingers from behind his neck and bared his shoulders. You took a deep, quivering breath before beginning to move over his thigh. It was an awkward motion; circling your panties along his naked thigh while he just took it. At first, it didn’t feel all too pleasurable. The idea of it all seemed great, but you just couldn’t get into it. A small part of you was saddened because Harry had seemed excited.
Had you let him down?
But just before you stopped to complain and whine about it, Harry’s grip on your hip tightened and pulled you forward. Your heart jumped at the action, feeling immense intensity in the proximity. With the slight lean forward, your clit was pressing directly on his thigh creating a perfect friction from your cotton panties.
“O-Oh,” You breathily moaned, finally feeling that strike of pleasure you’ve been waiting for. As your eyes begin to close, Harry never seems to remove his from you, analyzing every speck of your body like you’ll perish any second. His hand remains rigid and still on your hip, forcing you forward so your clit is constantly stimulated.
“Yeah? That feel better?” he asks in that familiar, deep husk that rumbles through your body.
“Yes, H,” Your head leaned on his shoulder, thighs beginning to burn with fatigue. It’s barely been a few minutes yet you were already feeling your leg muscles giving out.
“C’mon, Doll. Don’t give up now.”
“I’m trying,” You whined, picking your head up and pouting at him with a small pant. He stares at your puckered lip and dares to kiss it. Would it be crossing a boundary? All he wants to do is suck on all your words until you have none left and leave a few marks in the process. Is that so hard to want?
“Try harder.”
Harry thrusts his thigh up into you, causing you to gasp in bliss. It was an overwhelming and shocking feeling; a single, hefty dose of pressure right into your clit and cunt. Harry could feel your prominent heat burning through your underwear and searing through his skin. He wanted to rid you of your clothes and ravage you, but you weren’t there yet. He doesn’t know if you’ll ever get there with him, but recently, he’s been dying to get there. The thought has never even wandered his mind before, but now that it is, he can’t seem to get it out. It’s as if you’re trapped in his mind and sex is the only key.
That sounds a lot worse than he thought.
“Oh my God,” Your whimpers flow straight into his ears, playing mind games with him. His cock has been puffing up in his shorts, but he’s not even trying to hide it anymore. There’s no way you’re oblivious to the things you do to him—at least physically.
Harry continues to ram his thigh up, encouraging you to move around. When he feels your body seriously about to give up, he holds you still and forces you to stop.
“Color?”
“Green, but I’m tired.”
“Do y’want to stop?”
“No, Harry, please, just—I really need you to do something. Anything. I’m close,” Your desperate pleads are impossible to reject. With your doe eyes and pouty lip, he doesn’t even hesitate to make all your pain go away.
“Need it that bad?”
“Yes.”
“Alright, Doll. Just stay still,” You obey him with a grateful nod as his thigh begins to rock up into you again. It was so much more euphoric this way—having him move while you just feel. Maybe it was a little selfish, but wasn’t that one of the perks of him teaching you? You just got to feel and learn your body.
You hadn’t thought about that part a lot. This entire ordeal was you learning more about yourself. For years you have deprived yourself and avoided all sexual activity for no other reason than fear. Fear of judgment, fear of awkwardness, fear of trust, fear of vulnerability—sex was a huge thing for you. Now, you’re doing things you never could have imagined yourself doing, and you’re doing them with the last person you’d expect; your best friend. But in the strangest and most bizarre way, you couldn’t see your firsts being held by anyone other than Harry. Would you tell him that? Probably not. That might be taken a different way than you mean, and then drama would ensue and that’s not at all what you want.
But what did you mean by it?
“Are y’close? I can feel you clenching on me,” his voice rasps near your ear, sending a shudder throughout your body. You hum a high-pitched sound, seemingly pleasing him. “‘About to come in y’panties? Never thought you’d do that, huh?”
“Mhm,” You hummed again, this time biting your lip as your stomach churned in pleasure. “Touch me, God, please.”
“Are you saying I’m God? ‘Cause that is a great compliment—”
“You’re such an—” he places his lips on your neck, suckling on the spongy part under your ear. You shiver, shutting up immediately. Every word and thought has left you completely, fizzling into the nonexistent. You don’t know if he put his lips on your neck like this last time, but it made you putty on top of him. “Why does that f-feel so good? Please, Harry, I’m right there.”
“‘Cause I’m doing it. Little baby just needed help s’all. That’s right, huh? Say it. Say you needed my help, baby.” Why his words make you feel the way you feel will forever be an unsolved phenomenon to you. There’s a juxtaposition between pain and pleasure and degradation and praise. When he puts you down, he makes sure to pick you right up again, and it might seem toxic, but it was just Harry, and you knew deep down it was all an act. And you liked that.
“I-I needed you, Harry,” A whine fell from your lips, tearing through your throat.
You liked that none of it was deeply serious and you could be what you wanted without the fear of judgment, fear of awkwardness, fear of trust, fear of vulnerability—everything you needed for comfort was there. It was here with Harry. It might all be some type of act, but it felt real. Realer than any other relationship you’ve had.
“C’mon me, Doll.”
You felt his warm hand travel from one hip to your torso. Just the mere feeling of his presence getting lower towards your center sent you over the edge. It was quite embarrassing how his simple touch was all you needed to be folded and whipped, but you couldn’t help it. You were so sensitive as a beginner and, on top of it all, so needy and greedy for it. Harry adored that though.
Your orgasm soaked through your cotton panties, while some of the residue landed on Harry’s thigh. An ever-growing smirk was plastered on his face as your heated face finally reentered reality. You quietly gasped when your awareness finally slipped through the orgasmic fog, realizing the mess you made.
“Look at tha’, Doll. Was that better for you? More satisfying?”
“Yes. Thank you, Harry,” You answered wearily, suddenly being slapped with post-orgasm fatigue. The lingering burn in your muscles told you that you were going to be sore tomorrow, but you were too blissed-out to care.
“Don’t be so formal. S’weird,” You rolled your eyes at him. Again, he’s great at ruining a sweet moment. Sexual Harry versus friend Harry were two different people, but you appreciated both. It was just the sharp switches he makes between transitions that makes your head spin with confusion. Harry, your friend, was loud and cocky with a mixture of kindness. Harry, your sexual teacher, was demanding and precise with a mixture of softness. Both comforted you in a way that you hoped you would find in a partner one day; he was the perfect example.
Recognizing him this way really put things in perspective for you–Harry really was teaching what you wanted. And like he said before, maybe you didn’t need to worry about a husband right now. You should be focusing on what you want and that might take some experimenting. Training with Harry was preparing you for that experiment phase. That’s exactly it.
When you take a breath, you’re reminded of how compressed you are to him. You’re comfortable and cozy when you’re this close, and it just felt right. You don’t remember if you’ve always felt like this, but it would make sense if you have. He’s your best friend, of course.
But of course, the moment ends way too soon, and Harry is lifting you off of his lap. He places you beside him on the couch before standing up.
“I’ll go start you a bath and get you some clothes,” Harry leaves for the bathroom, the opposite of last time. Based on the last two times, to you it seems like he leaves too quickly. You never get to fully absorb the aftermath and internalize its meaning. But maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe Harry knows that if he allowed you the time, you would overthink until you self-destructed and eventually never speak to him again.
You don’t think you could ever do that.
So, like anything you’ve ever done, you’re left alone to analyze the situation. You were aided when you were desperate and Harry was able to mend that ache. But what did that do for him? What was Harry getting out of this arrangement? Was it even an arrangement or just best friends who occasionally do sexual things? Was he doing all of this for you just because he wanted to show you the ropes?
You’re still well-aware of your lack of reciprocation. Out of the two times he’s helped you out, you haven’t been returning the favor. There is this unspoken understanding that everything is about you and that Harry wouldn’t involve himself because what would that teach you? Without him saying anything, you know that Harry doesn’t want you to think that he’s using you for his own pleasure. But at this point in your friendship, you know he wouldn’t do such a thing. Besides, if he needed to have sex that critically, he could just call someone, right? It’s easy to “get some” when you’ve already had it.
Your point being, why haven’t you offered to return the favor? If you did, maybe Harry could give you some pointers and tell you what to do, just like all of the other times. Not only would you know what feels right and pleasurable, but you’d know how to make your partner feel just as positive. Plus, he would be getting pleasure out of it, too. That sounds like a win-win in your book, and probably in Harry’s. But would that be crossing the unspoken boundaries of your friendship? You’ve already traversed through enough together, but how far was too far? Was he basing the limits off of you?
If so, he won’t mind one more session, right?
thank you all so much for being patient with me 🩷 i hope this suffices you! part 3
taglist: @pishhhh20989 @harrysslut7 @kathb59 @chronicallybubbly @clarap23 @mrsstylesss @bisexual-desi @littlenatilda @crybabyddl @tiaamberxx @alwaysclassyeagle
crossed out= not able to tag
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whisperedmeg · 4 days ago
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can we PLEASE PLEASE get like a little blurb of greenaway!reader’s dynamic with hotch or emily? i just think her and emily could connect for OBVIOUS (theyre both black cat girls) reasons and I'm just very curious on her relationship with aaron! - community service anon (can i claim the 🧸emoji if you don't alr have an anon w that one)
hiii! love this idea. hope it’s okay I wrote this more as general thoughts/headcanons than plot-driven blurbs.
emily prentiss + greenaway!reader 🐈‍⬛🗡️
reader is initially cold towards emily (well she’s cold towards everyone, but especially em). it’s not because of anything emily did — but technically, she was elle’s replacement, and reader is aware of that. emily gives her space. she knows what it’s like to be an outsider, and she’s not offended by the cold shoulder.
eventually, they start to bond over shared cynicism and dry wit. prentiss is smart enough to keep up with reader’s sharp humor and starts firing it right back at her. reader respects that.
they’re an extremely effective duo in the field. both are relatively fearless and have the power to terrify men with just the narrowing of their eyes. they end up getting paired together for takedowns and interrogations quite often.
reader stops by emily’s apartment one weekend to drop off case files and ends up staying for nearly two hours playing with emily’s cat, sergio. reader doesn’t have any pets (commitment issues anyone?) but she’s a regular volunteer at the local animal shelter and absolutely loves cats — especially black cats.
prentiss isn’t afraid to call reader out on her increasingly obvious connection with spencer. em doesn’t push, but she doesn’t let her keep it buried, either. emily thinks they’re great for each other — he smooths out reader’s jagged edges, and reader helps force him out of his shell. prentiss was the first real reidaway supporter on the team — her perceptiveness along with her unique friendships with the both of them allow her to notice it early on — but she’s never obnoxious about it in a way that’d make either of them uncomfortable. it’s quiet, steady support.
aaron hotchner + greenaway!reader 🥃👔
reader is wary of authority, full stop. and in the fact that elle went through what she did under hotch’s command? yeah, she’s not a fan at first. she’s distant, guarded, almost openly bristling.
over time, she comes to see that hotch isn’t just a rules-and-regs hardass. he works harder than anyone. he’s fair. he protects his team. and when he disciplines someone, it’s purposeful, not cruel. that matters to her.
she both resents and craves hotch’s approval. she masks it with sarcasm and deflection, but part of her deeply, desperately wants him to believe she’s worth having on the team.
and eventually, he does. they build trust slowly, case after case, day by day. he learns she’s not her sister, and she accepts he’s not really responsible for what happened to elle — even though she’ll never fully let go of the small role he did play.
hotch isn’t blind to her connection with spencer, either. he is an extremely skilled profiler, after all, so he notices the coffees, the glances, the way they tend to gravitate towards each other on the jet & in the briefing room. he obviously won’t ever say it on record, since he’s their boss and can’t formally approve of a workplace relationship, but he’s secretly rooting for them to get together, too. he & emily sometimes share the occasional smirk across the bullpen when spencer and reader start to bicker or when spencer lingers too long at her desk.
greenaway!reader masterlist
p.s. I think you’re the same 🧸 anon from other messages and this was the first one you sent claiming it (just took me a while to put my response together) but if I’m incorrect plz let me know!
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spideykuri · 1 month ago
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#2 Mutual Agreement. ⊹♡
Warnings- MDNI | Smut 18+ Andrew!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader, little plot, smut blurb, sexting, teasing peter when he's out on patrol
Summary; To be fair, I was teasing him a lot over messages. He had absolutely no way to get to me, he was on patrol and there was nothing Peter could do about it. Did I feel bad? Slightly. Is he really hot and cute like this? Yes.
Notes; Another notes app blurb! Seems like you guys enjoy these a lot so I'll push more of these out! 595 wc & 3,189 characters!!
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Peter was on patrol for the day, You were stuck at the apartment, it’s been hours and now you’re bored out of your mind. You text Peter in desperation for some type of entertainment and possibly for attention.
` Hey Peter, you okay? ‘
Putting your phone down, you lay back onto your bed waiting for an answer. He usually responds fast even when on patrols.
It’s been over an hour by now. What the fuck is going on? You feel a sinking feeling in your stomach. What if something happened? Is he okay? Fuck, thoughts are running rampant through your mind like crazy.
Or.. what if your texting wasn’t enough? Maybe he’s TOO busy. You need something to catch his attention.
A smirk just grows across your face. You practically leap out of your bed and take off the only shirt that was keeping your naked body covered. Walking towards the closet mirror and staring at yourself for a minute before posing and taking a picture.
You send it to him without hesitation. That’ll catch his attention right? Maybe send some messages after. Easy enough.
` Hey Spidey. I know you’re busy, but I look pretty, right? ‘
If that didn’t get his blood heading straight to his cock, you don’t know what would. In an instant you see the message read and Peter typing frantically.
“ Babydoll. I’m on patrol. I’ll be honest you do look gorgeous. Wait until I get home, yeah? “
Oh, but who said you were waiting. You smile at the message and type back:
` Mm. I don’t think I can wait Pete. ‘ You send that message and snap another picture to send him.
“ Fuck. Baby. Please. Just wait a bit, I’ll be home soon. “
` Mm. Don’t have me waiting too long, okay? I’ll start fucking myself otherwise. ‘
“ Mhm. I’ll be home ASAP. “
Yeah, you better be. You think to yourself. You lay back down on the bed, bringing your phone up to your face, wondering what could you do now. Well, why not text him more?
After while, Peter practically begging over messages, some of it is to stop torturing him, the other half is him begging for more photos. All this talk and he’s still not home yet. You start to leave him on read. You know that makes his blood fucking BOIL.
A few more hours pass by, it’s sunset. You’re reading a book on your phone as you hear the front door open and shut. Peter opens the room door to see you completely naked. His eyes dark, you can’t even tell if it’s lust or rage.
“Hey, Petey, you okay?” You asked lovingly. Somewhat concerned about him but knowing you’ve been teasing him all day. He’s everything but fine.
“Don’t play fucking dumb now.” Peter says through gritted teeth. His eyes never leave your body. It’s silent for a while, just eye contact, and then he moves, pounces on you even, capturing your whole body in his arms.
Now, you were feeling real confident hours ago. It’s been five hours, Peter been fucking you nonstop, pulling and pushing you in every single way he wants to. You’re covered in cum, sticky and sweaty, can’t even think anymore.
Peter is whispering the most degrading things in your ear. "Is this the attention you wanted, slut? Yeah? Trust me, you have all the damn attention now." He whispers lowly. Should be damn ashamed of myself. Peter has the stamina of a god, and he’s angry? I’m fucked.
-
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jitt4z · 2 months ago
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vocal rest
zayne x mc!reader
2.6k+ words(!!!)
a/n: smut…kinda? i like honestly was TORTURED by this one bc i find zayne so hard to write but this was so fun but also so challenging and i debated on finishing ANYWAYSSSS i hope you like it!!
blurb: you practicing fake moans and got a sore throat and ofc you have to see our favorite doctor!!!
warnings: mentions of adult videos (veeery brief though), fingering (afab receiving), this plot is fucking ridiculous, idk what i was on, maybe bad writing???, zayne is just being a helpful guy :^), proofread in very lackluster fashion, uhhh…that’s it?, hope you like it!!!
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“Mmm, fuck yeah!”
Okay…Definitely not.
“Oh, yes, baby— it’s so deep!!”
No.
“Oh, God! I’m coming!”
Jesus. Fucking. Christ.
Maybe you just needed to get your voice warm first. Practice makes perfect, right?
At least, that’s what you had thought before you spent about two and a half hours practicing moans in your bed the previous night. Nothing sounded…right. Not that it needed to be— you weren’t seeing anyone at all— buuuuut what if you did see someone? What if you saw someone and you let out some kind of unsexy moan that kills the mood, one that’s not like the moans the women in the adult videos you’ve seen a few times? It was so theatrical, and yours just seemed so terribly normal.
Whatever, just try again, you thought.
“Oh, yes! Yes!! I—“
You suddenly were quiet. Only moments ago your voice was reverberating on the walls, and now all that came out was a hoarse whisper. You tried a couple more times before the pain became too much to bear. You decided to try speaking regularly, which was a bit better, but a slight stinging was still present. Your voice was gone.
Shit.
For the next two days, you did just about every at-home remedy there was. You drank hot liquids, sucked on throat lozenges, and ate an unprecedented amount of ice cream, yet nothing made your voice come back completely. You even took sick time as to not have to explain the story to anyone just to move on and forget, but your last sick day was coming very soon, and your throat was still very sore.
Okay. Just breathe— think, think…
You could try drinking that one ginger tea instead of the echinacea one you’ve been guzzling.
Maybe.
Or you could try a new over the counter medicine because you’ve used every single thing in your medicine cabinet.
Maybe.
Or you could go to the doctor.
Yes, you should go to the doctor. But what if he’s there?
Zayne could always see through you when you felt unwell. He knew exactly what each symptom meant: a sniffle, a cough, a throbbing headache— it didn’t matter because he was a professional. But more importantly, he knew you. You just wish he knew you less professionally. However, you knew him less professionally (in your dreams).
Many a night you’d stare up at your ceiling, thinking about if he ever saw the little peeks you’d give up your hospital gown when you were in his office and if he ever got a rise out of it. You’d think about if his face would turn into a deliciously soft pink if he saw the under cusps of your ass and how his cheeks would morph into an intense, yet passionate red if he ever got a chance to be inside of you and to make you feel the way he knew you wanted to feel.
But, alas, you only ever saw him for your checkups, minus the times he’d take you out to eat after your blood sugar was low from those said checkups. Other than that, you guys never saw each other really because of work, which made it even crazier that he could read you so well.
But right now, you couldn’t let that happen. You’d rather die than tell him about what you were doing. There was no other choice.
                                  . . .
You look ridiculous right now.
Between the sunglasses that hid your entire face, the baggy hoodie you wore, and the fact that it was practically a million degrees outside, you look like you’re about to commit a crime.
You shuffle up to the front desk, smiling sheepishly at the receptionist’s puzzled expression.
“Hey, it’s me.” You croak out lowly, your voice still sore.
The receptionist raises an eyebrow. You realize how odd you must look as you lean up against the counter, so you peek from over your sunglasses to show your face. Her eyes light up in recognition and she nods.
“Oh, I see. Would you like for me to see if Dr. Zayne is—“
“No!” You shout as loud as you could with your frail voice. She furrows her brow and you immediately start to apologize.
“Nooooo…worries! It’s just that it’s a sore throat. Don’t want to be a bother—”
“Oh, you aren’t bother at all. Here, just hang tight. I’ll page him.”
You try to say something else, but your voice didn’t come out as she starts typing away, so like any sensible person avoiding their (suuuuper hot) doctor would, you run away.
You turn around, hearing the receptionist call after you, but you kept going. You speed through the corridor, pushing your sunglasses further up the bridge of your nose as your eyes dart to and fro.
Everything seemed fine, other than the widened eyes that ran over your very suspicious getup. The widened eyes came and went as they pass by you: brown eyes, blue eyes, green eyes with a bit of hazel mixed in—
Oh, shit.
You try to swerve around him, but it was too late. Zayne stood firmly in front of you, his gaze unwavering. He looked you up and down, sending shivers down your spine.
“You’re here.” He sounded taken aback, yet the way he looked at you told you that he was trying to find a reason as to why you’d be here, especially looking like that.
“Yeah…” You said faintly, not trying to speak too much, but perceptive as ever, he knew. He pursed his lips as if he were thinking for a moment, digesting the fact that he found a possible symptom so he could diagnose you.
“Come.”
You shook your head, getting ready to protest, but you saw his jaw tighten.
“You’re already here. It would be pointless to not check for anything. Please, let me help.”
You heard the pleading undertone in his voice and your heart sank momentarily. Zayne was definitely more guarded with his emotions, but he always had a pattern of being concerned if anything happened to your health. He was a doctor, so you figured it was something he just did because of his title, but that wasn’t it. No, that wasn’t it at all.
You found yourself seated on the exam chair, the tissue paper crinkling underneath you as you settled. The sound of it was only amplified by your silence because your mind was running a blank. You couldn’t say anything. To hell with the sore throat, you would speak no matter how much it hurt just to avoid this terrible quiet you were plunged into. Then, he started typing. The click-clacking of Zayne’s fingers on the keyboard was only adding to your…what was it?
Fear of him about to scold you for not being so careful?
Relief from finally being able to get treatment?
Excitement from the fact that it’s him checking in on you?
He steps toward you, giving you a surveying look that sends chills through you. He froze when he got to your face. Unexpectedly, he gives a small smile.
“You look ridiculous. I’m surprised you didn’t have a heatstroke on your way over here.” He teased.
You wanted to retort, but you grumbled in response instead. He slipped his hands on either side of your head, his fingers steadying on the arms of your glasses.
“May I?” He asked, the slight tease in his voice still lingering.
You nod, giving him the go ahead.
The sunglasses come off and with that so did the last bit of your protection from his gaze. It’s as if you were encapsulated immediately, blinking over and over again as if you doing so would make this abysmal situation any less real.
“Is it just the sore throat or are your eyes irritated, too?”
“I’m fine—“
Immediately, he handed you his clipboard with a blank sheet of paper and a pen.
“Don’t speak. It’ll hurt more for you,” he instructed. “Write it down.”
You scribble onto the page for a moment.
Hi
His presence was almost overbearing as he leaned over your shoulder to read the words you wrote down, and when he spoke, it only got worse.
“Is that how you usually start conversations with friends you run away from?" You could hear the smirk in his voice, and you hated it. That added on to the way his breath tickled your ear, a heat began creeping into your body to somewhere that needed attention—his attention— rather than your embarrassingly sore throat.
Sorry :( I didn't want to bother you
He looks down at the notepad again before scoffing.
"It's not bothering me if it regards your health," he started as he walked over to the other side of the tiny room to get a thermometer. "Besides, if this is what you consider 'bothering,’ I only wish you bothered me a bit more…It gives me something to do."
He stood in front of you once again, holding the thermometer in front of your mouth.
"Open."
You were surprised at the sudden command despite doing this a million times before, but you were even more surprised that you complied so quickly and thoughtlessly.
"Good." He mused. Despite doing this a million times before, you never recalled him doing that. Or maybe he did, and you just couldn't remember because all you were thinking about was the way your thighs kept pressing together to give you some kind of relief from him.
Just get the diagnosis and go. Just get the diagnosis and fucking go.
A few more vitals were taken before he stood still for a moment, contemplating before he cleared his throat.
"Have you been shouting out orders while fighting Wanderers?" Zayne asked, keeping a bit of space between you two.
He gave you an out. You nodded thoughtlessly so you could avoid having to divulge any details you didn't want to say. You gripped the pen in your hand, wondering if you should write something down to make the story truly ironclad. It's just a little white lie.
You started to write, but you felt firm and steady hands take the pen from you. His fingers brushed against yours, and you looked at him.
"Tara came through a few days ago. She said she hadn't heard from you, that she hadn't seen you at work." He looked at you expectantly as if he were waiting for an answer, despite you not being able to give one because he took away the pen. He just watched you begin to flounder, and he seemed to be enjoying it.
"I need you to be straight with me."
He gingerly placed the pen back in your hand. You stared at him, your eyes unable to tear themselves from him.
"I went to your apartment to check on you. I didn't hear anything. I rang your doorbell, left you text messages, and left you phone calls. Nothing."
You saw the look in his eyes, the way he peered at you through a half-lidded gaze.
"But," he said after a pause. "After a bit, I did hear you."
Your face dropped, and you began to frantically write on the paper. It took you several tries to write something without scribbling it out and all starting over again. You began to write, but he stopped your hand.
"It's incredibly unrealistic to expect sex to be like that."
So he already knew you were faking? The realization that he heard you moaning? Screeching? Like a banshee? You wanted to be anywhere else.
He reached out to touch your face, his thumb and index finger tilting your face up to him.
"You're familiar with heavy deadlines— correct?" The way he stared at you would've made you think he was staring through you, but he was staring into you, reading you and your desires, sensing your wants through that pleading look in your eyes. You nodded.
"They're stressful. Some things should just be, wouldn't you agree?"
You nod again, your hands basically limp in your lap. He chuckles.
"You've been rather adamant about that in regard to me. I'm not a professional on that, but I've learned that certain things should just happen; not everything can be controlled."
He looks over and leans into you.
"It seems you need a reminder— it seems we both do."
He places a hand on your thigh. While he's only touching you through your sweatpants, you felt the way goosebumps prickled up on your skin. You stared at his hand as he continued to caress you.
"How's this?" He whispered, his head tilted to the side as he looked up at you from over his glasses. You braced both your hands on the chair, bits of the already crinkled tissue paper you sat on being ripped by the tightness of your grip. You stared back at him as he inched his hands a bit higher. Soon, your sweatpants were around your ankles, your feet dangling from the chair still. His hands moved under your sweatshirt, the baggy nature of it giving him more than enough room to explore your body.
Your throat burned so good, and you couldn't tell whether or not it was from your sore throat or because you felt moans threatening to come up. Finally, he pulled one out of you as an abnormally cold fingertip grazed over your nipple. An almost devilish smirk spread on his face.
"Isn't your throat sore? You should refrain from speaking or…other things," he smiled as he leaned in close to your ear. "It's best you rest your voice for now."
His hand started to wander over the cloth of your panties, feeling the soaking desire you had already produced. You begin to squirm a bit underneath his touch, finally reaching out to grab on to him rather than something else. You pant as he expertly works at you, pressing yourself against his fingers, chasing after more and more and more.
"Just keep breathing— yes, just like that. I've got you."
He keeps going, and your ability to keep your mouth shut is killing you.
"Z-Zayne, please…I can't take it…" You lowly moan out, the sound gentle and soft, yet raw and beautifully unpracticed, unlike the ones you did days before. He looks you in your eyes before leaning in to press kisses on your jawline until he gets to your ear. Once he was there, he asks you a singular question.
"I have to know; was it genuine?" He cooed as he teased you. A distinct wave of pleasure came over you again as you felt him move your panties to the side, his fingers now slicked over because of you. You nodded, your eyes shut tight as you focus only on the way he was making you feel and the filthy things he was whispering in your ear. He pulled back and rested his forehead on yours.
"You can take it," he hums. "I wouldn't want you exhausting your voice for no reason. If you were going to use your voice for anything, this would be it. To show me how this feels; how this really feels…"
"Please, tell me…does it feel good?" He breathes, his fingers still tracing the shape of your bud. It's almost as if you can sense the uncertainty in his eyes, the uncertainty that you completely washed away as you gave him your answer, which was a mix between a whine and a groan that you couldn't control. Without hesitation, you tug him forward, your lips meeting for a moment before you slip your tongue in his mouth, earning a muffled moan from him. He pulls apart from you for a second, slowly taking off his glasses, the lenses fogged before those warm and darkly verdant eyes look at you again.
"…Okay, then I'll keep going for you."
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sturniololuvrer · 8 months ago
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𝚁𝙾𝙻𝙻 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙳𝙸𝙲𝙴 18+ 𝙼𝙳𝙽𝙸
𝙼𝚊𝚝𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜 𝚂𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚘𝚕𝚘 𝚡 𝙵𝚎𝚖! 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛
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𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: dom!, rough! Chris and switch! Matt x switch!, fem! reader
𝙿𝚕𝚘𝚝: you’re best friends with the triplets and tag along with Matt and Chris to Vegas. While in the hotel room, you all stumble upon an intimacy kit…—based on Matt’s Vegas TikTok!
𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: threesome (no incest ew), hanjob, oral (m! receiving), edging, unprotected p in v, creampie, a bit of degration. (sorry if I missed a few this is insane)
𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 4,253
𝚊/𝚗: I started this in JULY and I’m just now posting this lmfao This is my first time ever writing, so my plot is a little iffy, just bear with me! I really enjoyed writing this, so send me ideas for blurbs and other fics if you want more! Some constructive criticism on the fic itself and my layout is greatly appreciated! Enjoy! xx
You stand in the hallway of a hotel in Vegas, suitcase in hand as you watch Chris struggle to unlock the room you’ll be staying in. You’re best friends with the triplets and you were all invited to Vegas to watch the slap boxing competition. Nick couldn’t come because he was going to a concert, so it was just the three of you for a few days.
You’ve always had a crush on both of them, so being alone with them like this for so long might make something happen (you’re hoping at least). They both feel the same about you, even having talked about it before and deciding if anything were to happen, and you were fine with it, of course, they’d share you.
Chris finally unlocks the door and trudges inside. “God damn, finally.” Matt says rolling his eyes at Chris as he walks inside, you trailing behind him. “Fuck you! My hands were full and it’s not like you were doing anything to help!” Chris bites back. You sigh, annoyed. They’ve been fighting nonstop since we woke up at 5am this morning to get to the airport. Before they can continue, you speak up on how luxurious the hotel is “wow! This place is huge!”
Matt had opened his mouth to yell at Chris but you spoke before he could and they both begin to look around. “Oh my god…I feel like I’m the president or something!” Chris exclaimed. You laugh and grab both of their hands. “Let’s look at the rest of the place!” You all explore the huge place, going from room to room and finish in the living room. You all sit on the couch and decide to relax and watch tv for a while before you have to leave to see the competition.
After a few hours, you go to get ready before them, having to do your hair and makeup. Soon, you finish, sliding a lilac, short skirt on as the finishing touch. You walk out of the bathroom back into the living room where the boys are already ready to leave. You bend down and start putting on your black converse.
Matt and Chris’s eyes rake over your back and ass as you do such a simple task. You quickly stand up and turn around, startling them. “Okay I’m ready!”, you say excitedly. Matt coughs, clearing his throat as Chris replies, “uh yeah- yeah, okay let’s go.” You look at him confused with an eyebrow raised, but don’t say a word and walk to the door.
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After a long night, you all went to bed as soon as you got back to the hotel. Now, you’re sitting at the dining table the next morning, eating waffles that the hotel provided. “Chris I can’t believe you used the bidet!” Matt grimaced. “Don’t knock it til’ you try it, brother.” Chris replied, mouth full of bacon. “Yeah that’s NEVER happening!” Matt yelled, shivering from disgust at the mere thought of it.
You laugh and stand up, walking to the kitchen to look at the jars of candy the hotel had to offer. They follow you and Matt reaches over you “what’s this?” he asks as he grabs the cylindrical container. You all lean in and read the top of it. ‘Intimacy kit’ is written on it in bold, cursive letters. “WHAT?!” You all scream in unison as Chris snatches it from Matt.
“We have to see what’s in here” he states as he starts pulling the lid off. You groan, face palming “Oh Chris, don’t do it.” “Come on it can’t be that baddd” Matt elbows you playfully. You look at him, unconvinced and look back to Chris as he grabs a small bag of stuff out of the container. “Oh we got a condom...and some horny dice.” He says, looking around the bag before putting the lid back on.
“What dice?!?” You exclaim, grabbing it from him. You pull the lid off and open the bag. “Wow, someone really wants those horny dice”, Chris teases, smirking. “Shut up! I just want to know what’s on them!” You say, not even looking up from the bag as you dig the dice out.
“Oh what the hell!” Matt says, looking at the dice and putting a hand over his mouth, a slight blush creeping up on his cheeks. In your hand there was two dice, on one there was pictures of various body parts and on the other there was words like ‘kiss’, ‘suck’, or ‘bite’. You and Matt look at your hand, horrified at what you’re seeing as Chris just smirks. “Why don’t you give them a roll?” He asks you, getting close to your ear.
You whip your head around at his insinuation and back away from him in shock, right into Matt, forgetting he was there. You stumble slightly, the dice flying over the counter as Matt catches you into his chest, holding your arms. “Ha! You rolled them!” Chris cheers as he quickly checks to see what you accidentally rolled. You stay leaned it to Matt, terrified of what it is. “You rolled a picture of a pair of lips and ‘kiss’!” Chris laughs.
Matt’s fingers that are still holding your arms twitch slightly at his words. You scoff, “okay? What do you want me to do with this information?” You reply sarcastically. “Do it.” He says seriously. You laugh, turning to look at Matt to see what he thinks, expecting him to be just as confused as you, but his face is as serious as Chris’s. You look between the two of them for a second, confused, waiting for them to stop, you’re heart pounding.
After they don’t, you push yourself away from Matt and roll your eyes. “Okay I’m going to my room, come get me when you’re done being freaks.”, you say, assuming they’re pranking you, so you avoid getting your hopes up. As you go to walk away, Matt silently grabs your wrist tightly, making sure you don’t leave. You stop abruptly and turn around, shocked. “Matt? What are you doing??” You look up at him as he’s still silent, his usual bright eyes are now dark, sending a shiver down your spine. You look to Chris, giving him a ‘what’s going on?’ look. He shrugs and says simply, “you rolled the dice.”
You roll your eyes at them both again. “Are you two actually serious??” You yell. They just continue staring at you, seriously, their lips formed into lines. You throw your hands in the air as best as you can as Matt keeps a tight grip on your wrist. “Okay fine! So just to be clear you’re saying you want me to kiss you both….on the lips?!” You yell again. “It’s what the dice said, isn’t it?” Matt finally speaks.
“Oh my fucking god” you groan under your breath. “I knew I should’ve went to see Melanie with Nick.” You say, pinching the bridge of your nose in annoyance. “Which one of you pervs is first?” You finally ask. Matt quickly pulls you closer to him by your wrist and you gasp lightly at his eagerness. Your eyes widen, shocked as you look from Matt to Chris. “What the hell is wrong with you both?” You ask, never seeing them act this way before.
Matt speaks up again, swallowing nervously. “I-I don’t know I just want you so bad”. “F-fuck, me too...” Chris says, coming closer. You gasp at their admissions and look between them. Matt groans lightly before grabbing your wrist again, pulling you to the couch. He pulls you to sit next to him, as Chris sits in the other side of you. You sit there for a moment, looking between them. “You gonna kiss us or what?” Chris says impatiently. “Seriously??” you ask, hoping they were just joking about the whole thing. “Yes! You rolled the dice, now do it!” Chris says sternly.
You look to Matt, hoping he’d let you off the hook, but he just shakes his head. “Some help you are…” you scoff under your breath, turning back to Chris. “Come on! Don’t be a pussy! It’s just a kiss.” Chris taunts. You clench your jaw angrily, Chris’s words getting to you. “God! you’re such a loser, fine!” You roll your eyes and lean into him, kissing him on the lips harshly as you’re angry and annoyed. He quickly grabs your hips and pulls you onto his lap.
“Chris!” You yell, pulling away in shock. He groans lowly, practically whimpering as he speaks, “…been wanting you on my lap for so long…” Before you can answer he grabs the back of your neck and pulls you in for more. Matt watches, patiently waiting his turn as Chris licks your bottom lip, eliciting a gasp from you.
He shoves his tongue in your mouth as it opens and you yelp, gripping his biceps. He explores your mouth before pulling away, a string of saliva connecting you. All you can do is breathe heavily and stare at him in disbelief. He smirks at you before Matt speaks impatiently. “Okay it’s my turn now”, grasping your arm and tugging at you. You get off of Chris’s lap as Matt drags you over and sliding you into his.
Still shaken up from Chris’s previous actions, you nervously lean in to Matt and kiss him. He immediately groans into the kiss, hugging your waist tightly with both arms. You deepen the kiss and he instinctively bucks his hips up into you. You moan lightly into his mouth, feeling him through his pants.
You gain a little more confidence as you slip your tongue into Matt’s mouth just as Chris had done to you minutes ago. He moans around your tongue, dancing his around yours. You begin to grind your hips down onto his, eliciting a breathy groan from him. You continue this for a few minutes, kissing him harshly and swallowing his whimpers.
He pulls away quickly, whining softly “Fuck…I need you so bad…please” Matt begs. Your eyebrows raise at his neediness, you glance at Chris and smirk lightly. “Okay, okay. Calm down.” You reassure Matt, rubbing your hands over his back. He sighs deeply, relaxing into your touch. “Do you want me to touch you?” You ask him. His eyes widen and he nods frantically.
“Y-yes! Fuck! please!” “Okay…I can do that…since you asked so nicely….” You say as you slowly get off of his lap and bring your knees to the carpet in front of the couch, trailing your hands down his body along the way. His breathing becomes heavy and he gulps nervously as he watches you. You glance over to Chris, still seated on the couch a few feet away, his fists are balled up at his sides and his jaw is clenched, visibly upset that you didn’t argue with Matt at all like you had with him over the kiss.
You grin at Chris, sliding your hands up Matt’s thighs to his belt, beginning to undo it and he arches his back into your touch. “How long have you been wanting this? hmm baby?” You ask him, cooing as you remove his belt and rub your hands over his inner thighs. Matt’s cheeks flush a dark red, embarrassed at how he’s acting. “F-fuck! W-way too long…oh god.”
His whining has you clenching around air and moaning lightly. “God damn it…” you groan under your breath. “What? You getting worked up?” Chris asks tilting his head, faux concern lacing his voice. You just glare at him and begin to unbutton Matt’s pants. He groans loudly and lifts his hips, helping you pull them down and you toss them to the floor next to you.
You look down and see that he has a huge wet spot in his boxers from the amount of precum he’s produced. You rub his thighs sympathetically then hook your fingers into his waistband, looking up at him for extra permission. He just nods quickly, his eyes lust-filled. You take that as a yes and slowly pull his boxers down, his dick hitting his stomach as you free him.
He hisses at the feeling of the cold air on him. Your eyes widen at the realization of what you’ve gotten yourself into, he’s huge…and there’s no doubt that Chris is as well. “Oh god….” You gasp out. “What’s wrong? Too big for you?” Chris asks degradingly. You shoot him a glare as you think of what you want to do with Matt.
You decide to mess with him a bit and slowly trail your hands on Matt’s stomach and thighs as close to his dick as possible without touching it. He whines and writhes. “Please! Need you to touch me so bad!” He pleads. You ignore him, wanting to tease him more. As you continue touching around him, you lean down, blowing cool air over his dick. His body arches up off the couch lightly as he moans loudly.
“Please, please, please touch me! Fuck! I- can’t!” You laugh lightly at his desperation before you finally give into him, just barely grazing your pointer finger up the underside of him. He cries out and bucks his hips into your finger. You continue moving your finger up and down, trailing over the veins of his dick.
He whimpers “p-please I need more…” you hush him lightly, cooing “be patient baby…” He lets his head fall against the back of the couch, trying to be good for you. You twirl your finger around his tip, soaking your finger in pre-cum, before wrapping your pointer finger and thumb around it, moving up and down lightly.
He moans as you touch such a sensitive area, bucking his hips into your fingers. You spit some of your saliva down onto his dick before finally wrapping your entire hand around him and pumping slowly. He practically screams your name at the sudden change in pleasure, fucking into your hand. “Oh f- oh god! So good!” He barely gets out.
You slowly start moving faster, each time you reach his tip you slide your thumb over it, making him tremble and whimper. He’s enjoying this so much he feels like he’s going to go insane, his eyes fluttering shut. You grin as you look up at him, watching his reactions. “You okay Matt?…am I doing okay?” You ask lightly.
As soon as you finish speaking he nods frantically, “y-yes! -so good! You’re doing so good! Please- fuck- don’t stop…” he moans. You giggle lightly at his answer before moving faster. After a while he grunts loudly, bucking into your hand “oh fuck! Oh- god! I’m s-so close! please!” He gasps out.
You grin at his pleading and start to move your hand as fast as you can. “Come on Matt…cum for me. You can do it.” You praise as he throws his head back, moaning loudly as thick, white ropes cover your hand and his stomach. You look at him as he’s catching his breath and slowly lick his cum from your hand. Matt moans, bucking his hips lightly and Chris groans from afar at the sight.
You lean down to clean Matt’s tip off next, but before you could, Chris grabs your arm, bringing you back onto the couch. “Do it up here…wanna touch you” he growls. You gasp at his actions before settling on your elbows and knees, pulling Matt into the position you want and slowly lean down, arching your back as you lick his cum from the tip of his dick. Matt moans loudly, shaking at the feeling as he’s becoming overstimulated.
Chris groans at the sight of your legs spread lightly, your clothed ass and pussy just inches away from him. He quickly takes advantage of this and starts moving his hands over your body. You moan lightly as you start to lick up Matt’s dick from his base to his tip over and over again, making him writhe. Chris slips his fingers into the waistband of your shorts, tugging them down harshly.
You yelp lightly at his forceful action, helping him pull them off the rest of the way. You arch your back a bit more to tease him, your ass raising higher. He groans at the side, slapping a hand down over one of your cheeks, making you gasp and jolt into Matt. “C-Chris!” You gasp out, a mixture of shock and arousal coursing through your body. He chuckles darkly at that, “don’t act like a tease if you don’t wanna get treated like one…”
You whimper softly at his words, trying to keep up your sarcastic attitude, but nothing comes to mind so you just lay there, your hand slowly stroking Matt, the only sound is his heavy breathing and small whimpers. Chris chuckles again, moving to drape his body over your back, nipping at your ear as he whispers into it. “mmm what happened to that little mouth of yours?” You just huff softly, annoyed at his words, but too desperate to fight him.
Chris smirks, enjoying that you’re not fighting him as he wraps his arms around your waist, pushing his cold fingers up your shirt, making you shiver. He trails them over your stomach and sides languidly, teasing you. After a while and you start to huff and squirm, he glides his hands up, skimming his fingers over the lace of your bra. He leans forward a bit, nipping at your ear again, a little harder before speaking, “Can I take more of your clothes off?” You nod softly, sitting up a bit to make it easier.
He grins, sliding your shirt off quickly. He takes in the sight of your bra as best as he can from the angle he’s at before he slides his hands over your back, unclasping it. You help him slide the straps down your arms. Both of them practically drool at the sight of your freed tits, making you blush softly.
Chris doesn’t waste any time, kneading them both in his hands which forces a moan from you. He chuckles, rolling your nipples in his fingers. “Fuck!” You gasp out, writhing at the feeling, which causes you to grind into him. He groans, pinching them, which elicits a loud whine from you. “Chris!” You call out, grinding into him more.
He grunts, his hips bucking into you involuntarily. He can’t take it anymore, sliding his hands to your back and pushing your upper body back into Matt. You grip Matt’s thighs and arch your back for Chris again, bringing your knees up more. Chris hums approvingly, sliding his hands down your hips and over the curve of your ass, squeezing it. “Arched so pretty f’me, hm?”
You bite your lip, nodding “all for you…” He grins, hooking his fingers into your underwear, sliding them down. He groans softly as they stick to your sopping pussy a bit, a string of your wetness connecting you to them, making his dick twitch in his jeans. He finally pulls them off, tossing them away.
Matt watches intently, enjoying the way you blush at Chris seeing your most intimate area. He strokes your cheeks softly as you look up at him. “It’s okay baby…you’re beautiful and Chris is just enjoying it…right Chris?” Chris snaps out of his trance as he was staring at your slick folds, clearing his throat. “Y-yeah…yes…* He caresses your hips, “you’re so beautiful…”
You sigh softly at the praise, not used to compliments or genuine kindness from Chris. You calm down a bit before you hear the clink of metal from Chris’s belt. He groans softly “gonna fill you up so good baby…you want that?” You moan softly at his words “fuck- yes…please.” He grins, shoving his pants and boxers down, his thick, long cock slapping against his stomach.
Chris moves closer to you, sliding his dick through your wetness, not pushing inside, just slicking himself up. You whimper, gripping Matt’s thighs harshly, causing him to whimper himself. Chris chuckles, lining his dick to your entrance “you ready?” You nod quickly, arching your back more. He slowly pushes his tip inside, which already has you writhing. He hisses, speaking hoarsely, “gotta relax baby…”
He pushes in deeper, causing you to whine and pant, clawing at Matt. Matt groans, his hips bucking involuntarily. You shakily move your hand to wrap around him again, pumping him softly as Chris slides even deeper. You whimper, your hand clenching around Matt at the feeling, making him whine and writhe. You quickly catch yourself, loosening your grip and replacing your hand with your mouth, sucking his tip into your mouth.
Matt moans lowly, his fingers tangling into your hair as Chris bottoms out inside you. You whine loudly around Matt as you feel Chris’s tip brushing against your cervix. Matt groans at the feeling, pushing your head down further as Chris grinds into your cervix. This sends you reeling, writhing and whimpering at the overwhelming feeling.
Chris grins before he starts to move, starting off with a very fast pace as Matt, moves your head even further in him. Chris’s pace pushes Matt deeper down your throat, making you both whimper. You dig your fingers into Matt’s thighs as Chris moves harsher, slamming into you.
“Fuck, you’re so…tight” Chris grunts out, gripping your hips harshly as he continues his thrusts. You try your best to continue moving over Matt, but it’s not enough apparently, as he grips your hair tightly, thrusting his hips up into your mouth. You whine and moan as best as you can around Matt, practically going limp as you’re impaled on both ends.
Matt groans, his hips moving erratically “shit…I’m gonna cum…” he breathes out before biting his lip. Chris starts to move even faster, his pace brutal as he slams into you, forcing you over Matt more. You cry out, looking up at Matt desperately and moving your tongue over him as best as you can.
Matt moans loudly “fuck!” He cums down your throat, his hips stuttering as he does. Chris leans down, quickly wrapping his hand around your throat, his thrusts slowing. His grip causes you to choke and sputter a bit as Matt is still deep in your throat.
“Swallow it…every drop.” Chris whispers into your ear, knowing his brother won’t make you. You whimper softly, swallowing Matt’s cum. Matt whimpers as he feels your throat close around him, shuddering. Chris pats your cheek, before sitting back up and picking his relentless pace back up “good girl.”
Matt’s grip on your hair loosens and he slips out of your mouth. You take deep breaths as best as you can as you’re still being thrown into him because of Chris’s thrusts. Chris grins, moving even harder, you didn’t even know that was possible, but it has you almost screaming.
If there was people around your hotel room, they’d most definitely hear you getting your back blown, but none of you could seem to care. Matt reaches down, his fingers rubbing your clit in fast circles. This has you writhing and moaning loudly. “Fuck! I’m so close!”
Chris grunts, gripping your hips harsher, surely leaving bruises. “Yeah? You gonna cum all over my cock?” You nod quickly, moaning louder. After a few more of his brutal thrusts, you see white, practically screaming their names as waves of pleasure flow through you.
Your body convulses and you clench around Chris harshly. Chris’s breath hitches as he feels you tighten around him, but he keeps going, his pace not faltering. You whine and moan at the overstimulation, “fuck Chris!” He continues slamming into you, speaking hoarsely “Where do you want it? Hm?…Where do you want me to cum, baby?” You barely register his words as he continues, “i-inside! Please!” you cry out.
He grunts, his hips stuttering at your words “fuck I’m gonna cum…” He starts to move erratically. Matt’s hand is still working your clit, so this sends you reeling into another orgasm, clenching even harder around Chris this time. “Fuck!” Chris cries out, he pushes himself deep inside you and with a loud moan, he’s cumming inside you, painting your spasming walls white. You whimper at the feeling, still clenching around him as Matt’s hand slides away from your clit, whispering sweet praises to you.
After a minute, Chris finally pulls out slowly, his cum dripping out of you. You go limp against the hotel couch, panting harshly. Matt caresses your cheeks softly as Chris scurries to get a towel to clean you up “you did so good baby…”
You nuzzle into his touch, sighing. Chris finally comes back and cleans you up softly. They help you put your clothes back on, sitting you up normally on the couch, before putting their own on.
Chris gently runs his fingers through your hair as he sits next to you, a stark contrast to how he was minutes before. “You okay baby?…was I too rough?” You shake your head softly, assuring him you’re okay. He smiles and kisses you softly, wrapping you in a blanket as Matt plops down on the other side of you. “Nick is gonna be so pissed at us…” His comment makes you all bust out laughing.
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a/n: omg this was sooo long I’m so sorry lol thank you so much for reading my first fic if you got all the way here! I really enjoyed writing this and I hope you all enjoyed it! Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in any future posts in the comments or just talk to me! I’ll most likely answer every comment! Likes and follows are really appreciated so I can grow my page! xx
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midniqhtt · 1 year ago
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steve harrington
masterlist • stranger things • 07/23/24
˚‧⁺ ・ ˖ · ୨ৎ recs two
one I three
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𑣲 his good luck charm I @bimbobaggins69
king!steve getting a little frisky before the basketball game because he swears you’re his good luck charm
𑣲 friends with benefits I @forever-rogue
𑣲 dirty dancing I @nexusnyx
When Steve went to the address for investigating purposes, the last thing on his mind was stumbling upon one of the most beautiful sights he's ever seen. It happens, though, and he convinces himself that meeting you was only a thing of the moment, until he encounters you outside the cinema a week later, crying. He does something about it.
𑣲 power trip I @silkscream
you and steve settle your differences when he drives you home
𑣲 fast times at family video I @thursdaygxrls
steve’s great a flirting. that is, until robin gets involved.
𑣲 crushes, chaos, confessions I @quin-ns 
dustin knows how steve feels about you and he can’t stop himself from spilling his best friend’s biggest secret to you.
𑣲 henderson!reader I @familyvideostevie
𑣲 favour for a favour I @yellowharrington
steve has a big ol' crush on the girl that trades him pastries for movies every week.
𑣲 whole I @freelancearsonist
𑣲 sincerely, yours I @superblysubpar
a movie night, a confession, an offer, your Calvin's bunched up on the floor of your best friend's BMW...and other places
𑣲 paralyzed I @murdockparker
She walked in on a Friday afternoon. Steve needed nothing more than to get to know her--if only he could find it in himself to speak to her.
𑣲 that guy I @appocalipse
After he's been to yet another failed date with yet another random pretty girl, Steve Harrington, your best friend, stops by at the diner your family owns for a late-night chat, same as he'd done a thousand times before. Steve is totally unaware of how much he's hurting you with his endless parade of dates, because after all — the two of you are only friends and nothing more, right? It's not like you have any secret feelings for him…
𑣲 romance is dead, isn't it I @megxplryxb
𑣲 pretty girl part 2 I @hellfireclubmember
Dustin can't stop talking about the sub he got to fill in for Lucas, making Steve want to smash his head into a wall. That is, of course, until he sees you.
𑣲 baby, no attachment part 2 I @calumfmu
the 5 times Steve Harrington was an asshole to you, with the 1 time, he revealed his true self.
𑣲 the kings reign I @/calumfmu
King Steve, the stupid nickname you had heard your entire life. The rumors, the huge ego to match. It was everything that made you hate him, especially when your best friend wouldn't shut up about him. Robin was forcing you to be friends with him, but it wouldn't stop the passion you had dedicated to wanting nothing to do with him.
𑣲 tell me that i'm all you want I @judeswhore
everyone in hawkins knows about steve harrington’s somewhat infamous past and with your relationship being new and a little devil on your shoulder you start to worry if you’re simply just his next play thing
𑣲 blurb I @/judeswhore
𑣲 out of your league I @/judeswhore
steve’s friends refuse to believe his secret girlfriend is the pretty girl from the bakery and are more than a little surprised when you actually show up.
𑣲 fall into pieces I @taintedcigs
steve comes in his pants from eating you out. that's the plot.
𑣲 it just takes a kiss I @strangerstilinski
based on that scene in tasm where peter spins gwen around to kiss her — with just a dash of enemies to lovers
𑣲 handle with care I @thecreelhouse
Eddie and Robin think Steve needs to get out more, but he ends up in what he believes to be the wrong place at the wrong time, until he meets you.
𑣲 jealousy, jealousy I @s-brant
Nancy and Y/N are best friends. The problem is, Y/N and Steve have been secretly hooking up for weeks, and when Nancy asks for advice about possibly getting back together with him, Y/N doesn’t know how to feel.
𑣲 bags I @goldustwomun
you'd loved steve since you were fifteen, followed him wherever he went. so when you were finally over him, stumbling home with another man clinging to your side, why was he waiting by your doorstep?
𑣲 grand gesture I @loove-persevering
reader is seeing how close Nancy and Steve are and the looks they give. When the Reader goes to Eddie Steve gets confused and a little jealous because he actually has feelings for her.
𑣲 moral of the story I @refiwrites
Steve was still in love with Nancy, it was clear as day. 
𑣲 for a good time call! I @chestharrington
In the Summer of 1985, Steve's social standing is at an all time low. In an act of sheer, pathetic desperation, he calls a phone sex hotline. Little does he know, his dream girl from the hotline is just an escalator away.
𑣲 6 times Steve was pining I @fandomtravels
𑣲 you keep me hanging on part 2 I @once-upon-an-imagine
𑣲 icarus and the sun I @justburningdaylight
Reader’s in love with her best friend. Considering she can’t tell him about this particular secret, she instead entrusts it to her diary, neglecting to remember Steve’s old habit of reading said diary.
𑣲 sober thoughts I @munsster
If drunk words are sober thoughts, Steve sure is talkative when he’s had a few.
𑣲 need your lips on mine I @lonelysatellites
Steve Harrington will hook up with you. So why won’t he kiss you?
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el-bellanaris · 25 days ago
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Veilguard’s lack of identity as a game and Rook’s lack of an ownership over their own story is so interesting and insulting for the latter part.
With the lack of identity as a game it comes from the devs focusing more on giving all of that to the factions then to our actual faction that we spend the entire game working in which is the veilguard. They get symbols and unique armour and we get to spend the entire time getting lore drops about Solas. When back to Origins it was about your character becoming a grey warden and that united the games identity, 2 is about Kirkwall so the symbol of the city is meaningful and iconic representing your hawke’s journey and obviously the Inquisition has its own symbol for an organisation your character is the head of.
Rook doesn’t get some uniting motif to attach to their story because they don’t really get to connect to their world. Now a big reason that is because the game is all visuals and cool moments and no world building that requires depth or complexity. Another reason is that the game was born out of the ashes of another so the world doesn’t actually belong to what the actual game we got is about. As a result there’s no actual world for Rook to connect to except the factions but again the factions aren’t Rook’s story they’re their past and the story of their companions. I find this interesting because it's a pretty basic concept that you want your game to have an identity. And all three other games focused on creating one so Veilguard not having this strong identity makes it feel like its very actively missing something.
Rooks journey then is also both disconnected from the actual game that is happening and also actively written to discredit Rook’s ownership over the game. This intentional feature is what makes it feel insulting at times.
There has to be some reason the main character of a game is you and not someone else and with a game this uniqueness needs to carry your whole gameplay. In Origins it lies in your character being a grey warden, you and Alistair are the last available wardens to fight the current blight and fix the political issues using the blight as a scapegoat cos it serves to help your cause continue its operations. Now you or Alistair could be the leader of your group however Alistair by design takes a backseat he doesn’t want to be a leader which is something that ties deeply into his character and character growth. It’s a very deliberate choice that both makes Alistair pretty interesting and makes sure your character doesn’t get undermined. This choice is a narrative choice that allows your character to feel important through out the choices you make and in the finale as without you or Alistair no one else can actually end the blight and having both people allows for a variety of endings.
Rook’s uniqueness in the narrative plot lies in your little blurb at the beginning of the game but it’s not particularly powerful or holds its weight over the game. Getting plucked out by Varric for having a good heart doesn’t really correlate to having the ability to kill a god and any of this stops mattering once the opening of the game is over. This is another miss by just selecting different plot points from previous games to make up Veilguard without considering how it actually correlates to actual game you’re making. Like Varric loving Hawke and defending them to Cassandra works as a narrative point because the stakes aren’t high. But when the stakes are literally fighting gods being good pals with a guy doesn’t really cut it.
The other side of video game main characters being unique and standing out is not always but often a power only they can wield. Other characters can have similar powers but theirs must be unique and is what you’ll use in fights. Inquisition did it really well having the anchor, no one else can use it as it’s literally implanted into the Inquisitor’s body and it ties directly into the overall narrative and used often when exploring. The inquisitor also gets to claim ownership over this power through having it the entire game and only finding out its source right at the end since it was belonging to someone in their inner circle. Again by design your companions weren’t written to overshadow your Inquisitor with what made them unique as a main character.
But Rook gets a dagger that belonged to Solas and is introduced by showing him using it to begin the plot of the game. Now this dagger is a regular dagger, Rook keeps it attached to their body and goes about their days and it doesn’t necessarily need to be wielded by them. The real crime here is that all we get from it is to summon our companions powers to help ur character jump up onto rocks. Both overshadowing our character and ruining the daggers ownership to Rook. It’s no longer something only Rook can wield rather it’s just a reason to call over someone more helpful. We as the main character have to literally take a back seat regularly cos the game couldn’t even give us a unique power in a game where everyone else gets nonsensical abilities. Intentionally designing the game the insult your character for considering themselves as important.
And if that doesn’t help Rook feel less important another aspect of the game is it literally saying the squad needs to work through their personal issues before fighting the gods cos their problems are causing infighting. But Rook doesn’t get to have any personal issues, so once again they take the backseat for some epic moments that belong to their companions and they get a thanks for the help sticker. Several aspects of the game are intentionally made to feel like your character is just a camera to watch other people do stuff because Rook wasn’t written to actually fit into the game they exist in.
Which is so baffling, I don’t think I’ve ever played a narrative game where this happens. Where I’ve spent 60 hours playing just for my own character to feel like the odd one out and for the game to actively make me feel like I should feel grateful I’m even here just to be pitied with a dagger that calls better people to my rescue. The contempt BioWare has for its own title, the devs who made dragon age exist and for people who spend money on it for them to have profits is crazy.
#datv critical#probably my last post on the game I just needed to get it out of my system#I played fire emblem awakening last month and it made my character feel so welcome and important#characters in game actively saying hi and checking on me and my character was central to the plot#then I think about how rook was made to feel worthless but also the only reason the world can be saved#which is so indicative of our relationship as fans to BioWare they think of us as worthless but we are ones giving them money#insulting us and then expecting us to buy 60 dollar games and shut up doesn’t really work#I do still have so much love for the games which still drives me to want to play 2 still#and eventually just focus on the other three so I can ignore veilguard forever but I needed to verbalise my pain#shoutout to physical media and steam sales for letting me buy the old games in a way that doesn’t feel like I’m feeding BioWare money#that they’re gonna use to insult me for daring to like a game series they made and profited off#last thing there were definitely things about the game i liked unique aspects that should have been developed better and how epic#and grand it felt at times was cool but im not watching an action movie im playing a game#so for everything I liked its either forgettable because its purely surface level good visuals or because it was so underbaked#that I couldnt even feel connected to them#played as an elven veil jumper who romances Lucanis and i walked away with my rook feeling empty after saving the world#what did she have in return for her efforts nothing cos the game wanted me to think their blorbos are cool not mine
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xiaobaosnoona · 7 months ago
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Noona's 2024 Drama Wrap-up
Yeah, so don't expect me to make sense, I just need to gush my entire soul out about the dramas that kicked butt for me this year. Also gifs.
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Atomic bomb of the year: The Untamed (2019)
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The show that altered the chemistry of my brain completely and threw me into an obsession so serious I pulled several people down with me (you're welcome and I am sorry). A chinese fantasy drama that centers around a young man who wants to do what's right even if it costs him everything (and it does), and his soulmate who loved him through two lifetimes. Censored bl that feels zero censored because of the brilliancy and hard work of the cast and crew. Clearly a labour of love for everyone involved. Impossible to water down into a blurb, watch it and you'll understand.
Love blorbo of my life: Li Lianhua
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No one else made me fall as deeply as Li Lianhua of Mysterious Lotus casebook (2023). This cynical, too clever, highly whumpable lying liar got me in a chokehold and has yet to let go. His love language is to push people away, but thankfully some people are hard to get rid of. Deserves to be lovingly wrapped in a blanket and fed chocolate until his sadness passes (or possibly forever).
The one I never thought I would love: DMBJ/Lost Tomb franchise (2016-2024)
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Hi, hello, what the hell happened? This show kinda took over my life and I am seriously confused (standard dmbj experience). One of the queerest shows I've ever laid my eyes on featuring one of china's most famous m/m ships; Pingxie. Filled to bursting with adventure, conspiracies, tomb shenanigans, snakes and the best character dynamics I've ever seen on the small screen. Don't expect everything to make sense, just enjoy the ride. It's a hoot.
I cried my face off because of this: Fangs of Fortune (2024)
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This made me suffer from dehydration, flailing arms with feet kicking, and severe gif-making-syndrome. Stunning Chinese fantasy with characters that will unapologetically roundhouse kick you in the heart. Repeatedly. Very queer and doesn't even try not to be. Did I say stunning? The cinematography and costumes are so fucking beautiful that this alone brings tears to your eyes. Just watch it, I can't possibly explain what it's about without starting to cry again.
Has a dear and special place in my heart: Oh no! Here comes trouble (2023)
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So well written I want to chug vinegar because I didn't write it myself. Some of the best character dynamics known to man, fantastic stories told with a supernatural twist and (you guessed it) queer vibes that will smack you in the face. Has a wonderfully dumb and grumpy ml that will make you love him unconditionally in a very short amount of time. The drama deals with heavy topics, like grief and abuse, and balances it out delicately with ridiculousness and humour.
Favorite BL: History 3: trapped (2019)
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The cutest little twink police falls in love with the mob boss he's been trying to catch for four years. Adorable low-spicy Taiwanese bl that utilizes the often seen het-romance drama tropes in a low key hilarious and endearing way. Enemies to lovers? Uhuh. Grumpy/sunshine? Mhm. Catch the love interest in your arms as they trip and fall? Yup. Everything wrapped in soft romantic lighting as you stare into each other's eyes? Yesss. And do i love it? FUCK YEAH. Actually does have a pretty solid plot as well, which made it a real home run for me.
Underrated gem: 19th Floor (2024)
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A less queer version of Spirealm (but watch me try and find every queer crumb in it if it kills me). Got me on the edge of my seat most of the time, had characters I loved dearly with great development, adorable bromance with cheek smooches, and het-romance that didn't make me want to scratch my face off. FL kicks serious ass and is allowed to be unapologetically herself throughout the whole show. Also this show has Bai Shu and that is always a win.
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parachutingkitten · 22 days ago
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okay, back on Pixal's character encyclopedia page, and I'm genuinely struggling to figure out what the heck they're talking about here. This little blurb is supposed to sum up her connection with Zane. Easy enough task right? But I don't know what it is they're talking about in that final sentence.
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Instinctually, it feels like this should be describing Zane's heart split, because that's the most important plot point to be covering, but that's very clearly not it. Merge into one being would be a weird way to phrase that. Zane gets hurt? I mean in a way he injures himself to save Pixal, but it's not because he gets hurt. And the heart split saving his life is... what? Pixal grabbing him off the magnet? Maybe they mixed up the names, and meant to say when Pixal gets hurt, referring to her losing power which... sort of tracks. That does save her life. But then we're still left with the "merge into one being" phrase which feels out of place, especially when that does literally happen later.
And maybe they are referring to season 4, but again Pixal is obviously the one who is hurt in that scenario, and it's her life that's saved. So again, the names are backwards if that's what they're getting at. And at this point in the timeline... like come on, we're way past discovering that they're compatible. We figured that out already.
If you want to put your conspiracy theory hat on, I think you can take the names as correct, and assume this is covering the heart split. Zane being hurt is the damages he takes during the ambush, which sort of eventually leads to the two of them realizing their compatible. Zane splits his heart, therefore merging them together on a more spiritual level, which later somehow saves Zane's life. Now, what's a point in the season where Zane's life might need some sort of saving? You could conclude that the only reason Zane was able to rebuild himself and take control of Borg tower after the explosion was because a piece of him was still living and breathing in Pixal, and if he hadn't done it he would still be dead, which would have some cool lore implications.
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