#Yo this is exactly how you leave a tent

[nomilkinmyteaplease]

Tom Weston Jones,selected bits from Sanditon

[thewritetofreespeech]

Could I request Astarion and his s/o getting into a sass competition where Astarion ends up confessing to her by accident and now he's all flustered?

Astarion x Reader

“Can’t you go any faster?”

“I’m not exactly as well versed into taking these off as I am in putting them on, darling.” Astarion quipped at you as he fiddled with the lock on your cuffs.

Being somewhat of an anti-hero liaisons these days, the group had been pinched on some trumped up but completely true & legal charges of petty theft and larceny. Your options were fight, flight, or get arrested when confronted by the guards and charges. And since you couldn’t fight a whole city’s worth of Iron Fists, and running also seemed unplausible as you’d have to come back to the city sometime, you decided to take you lumps and went to jail. Luckily, where there’s a will there’s a way. Or in this case: a vampire with a lockpick up his sleeve.

“Why did you wait to do me last anyway? Just to see me suffer?”

“Well,” Astarion cooed, “it does have a certain visual appeal.”

You clicked your teeth and rolled your eyes. “Could you just hurry up? I’m starting to lose the feeling in my hands. All the blood is rushing out of them.”

“Oh, well, we wouldn’t want that.”

“Well, if you want my blood again, you should be more sympathetic to my pain.” You told him. Sighing heavily as one arm was free and Astarion moved on to the other one.

“Don’t you threaten me. Besides, if you won’t give me what I want, I’ll just move on to some other lucky companion in our camp.”

“Ha! Like anyone else would have you.”

Astarion frowned. “I’ll have you know that there are plenty of people who would welcome my teeth at their necks. Hundreds. Thousands!”

“Yeah. One blood obsessed drow and…who was the other one you tricked again?” You pulled at the shackles, which jiggled the irons and knocked the lockpick free, but unbroken. The vampire growled at you.

“I tricked you easy enough, didn’t I?”

“Only because I took pity on you.”

“Pity?!”

“Yeah.” You told him. “That poor, sad, puppy dog ‘please feed me’ look was just something I couldn’t say no to.”

Astarion growled again. “That is not how it happened. Besides, if you didn’t like it you wouldn’t keep asking for more.”

“Oh sure. Blame the victim.”

“You are not a victim!” He snapped at you. He seemed a little wounded by that one. Maybe you went a little too far. “Gods.” He cursed under his breath with a frown. “You are lucky I love you so much, otherwise I would just leave you here, chained up, and never bite you again. No matter how much you begged me.”

The lock finally snapped open and your arm fell to the side. You lifted it to rub your wrist but were uncharacteristically silent.

“Would it have been too much to expect a thank you??”

“Did you just say you love me?”

Astarion froze for a moment. A little wide eyed at your question. He seemed to be racking his brain for a moment. Trying to remember the conversation before an ‘Oh. Shit.’ expression came over his face. “What? Oh, that. Figure of speech darling, of course.” He let out a single nervous cough after that and a rushed, “let’s go meet up with the other.” Before he turned on his heels and made a speedy exit.

You rub your wrist one more time as a soft, shy smile came to your lips behind his back. You follow after him and meet up with the others. Waiting just outside the prison for the two of you, as apparently just around the corner was enough of an escape from the mighty Iron Fist.

“Ah! I just love this fresh air.” You exclaim, followed by more comments on how dusty & dank your cell had been, but really just watching Astarion’s shoulders tense.

You spent the rest of the day subversively tormenting Astarion. Making comments on how much you loved the weather, or loved a dress in a window. How much you loved dinner that night. How much you loved getting a good night’s rest that night.

By the time everyone had gone off to their respective tents for the evening, Astarion had apparently had enough and slunk up to yours. “I know what you’re doing. Now stop it!” He hissed.

“But I thought you’d love it.”

“Stop it!” He hissed again. If he could right now, he would blush. You were tempted to let him feed on you for a moment to get the full effect. “I mean it! How would you like it if I threw every verbal misstep in your face? I don’t keep bringing up the time you said Ibis instead of Ignis, now do I??”

It was pretty funny when that bird showed up.

“So, are you upset that you said it and I’m teasing of you, or are you upset that you didn’t mean it and I keep bringing it up?” You honestly didn’t know which answer would be worse at this point. You felt bad you had wounded his pride to the point that he came to talk to you. But you also don’t think you could take it if he told you that he didn’t love you.

Astarion just stood there for a moment, thinking, before he sighed and waved you off. “Just…knock it off ok. I’ve had quite enough today. I’m going to get some sleep and I’ll see you in the morning.”

He turned to walk away and just before he fell out of ear shot you called to him. “Hey Astarion,” he looked back over his shoulder at you, “I love that you could come and talk to me about this.”

He huffed, but you could see the corners of his mouth struggling to keep down. “Oh shut up.”

[starshipsofstarlord]

Sleepless

Summary -> On the farm, you struggle to fall asleep due to all the things that you know that surround you, from the walkers in the barn to Shane. The only thing that can make you feel any comfort is Daryl (1.4k)

Warnings -> harassment, angst, fluff, manipulation, mention of death, fighting, swearing

daryl dixon / norman reedus works masterlist

No matter how many times you had attempted to fall asleep, it was nearly impossible. You and the group that you had found in Atlanta had set up camp on the Greene's farm, everything seemed too good to be true, and that is exactly what it was.

Glenn had told you about the captive walkers that were held up in the barn, and it was only a matter of time until Shane with his explosive temper took control of the situation. It was better when you didn't know about the holding cell for the dead, but there was nothing that you could do to erase the cursed knowledge from your brain.

It was easier to stay awake, and so you sat beside the small fire that was throwing heat at you, whilst your comrades had already retreated to their tents. The snap of a twig alerted your ears to the presence of another, and instantaneously you were on defence, grasping your knife from the loop of your weaponry belt in the grip of your hand.

A part of you hoped that it was Daryl whom had been so cooped up with finding the whereabouts of Sophia, which made yo love him even more, however your luck dwindled when you saw who it was.

It was a boulder of a man that had changed a lot from the time that you had met him, his eyes were dark and dangerous as he headed towards you, some kind of intent in his unfaltering steps.

"Couldn't sleep either?" You asked Shane, loosening your grip on the sharp object in your hand but refusing to let it go. He grunted a reply and a stiff nod in relation to your enquiry, sitting close next to you, which made your bones stiffen. Since his best friend Rick Grimes had made a return into his life, it was as though a switch had been switched in that mind of his.

You tried not to think of his tale of how Otis had supposedly sacrificed himself either, as you among others had suspicions that he hadn't quite told you all the truth. "Something like that." He spoke. You'd never had much interaction with the man since he founded the old camp for you and the other survivors, unless you were killing walkers together or occasionally assigned to check the perimeter, however Daryl had always reminded you to be careful.

Shane may have been on the same journey as the rest of you, but he'd become more damaged through your journey to live so far. "At least there's some stars to watch, I loved looking up at them as a kid. Now the worlds gone to shit, but that is one of the only things that has't changed." It felt strange having a conversation so light hearted with the man, but it was just to bide time in your eyes until morning arose.

"Can't say the same about your taste in men - after all you're dating that redneck that is lost in the thought that he'll actually find the girl out there. I'm sure before all this you had some kind of self respect." He scoffed, which. Only made you shoot a glare at him which was equally matched with one of his own. But you knew not to retaliate, for your own protection, not after how he had hurt Lori as she had told you in secrecy.

"I think I'm tired after all." You gritted out from behind your teeth, going to stand until Shane followed you, grasping your elbow with a vice grip that would no doubt leave a bruise upon your flesh. "Shame, let go. This isn't you." This was exactly him, the cold shell of a person that he had become from the horrible things that he had bore and witnessed. Your voice had been sharp, a warning if he knew what was best for him. He'd always been smart with his sneaky actions, but the bitter scent of whisky that blew in your face told you that he wasn't in his usual solitary mind.

"Why should I? So you can go back to a man that you're too good for and cares more about a child and his dead brother than you?" That was the last straw, you couldn't let him wrap your mind in a bubble of lies about Daryl for a single second, so you raised your right hand and butted him in the nose with the dull end of your knife, causing the man to stumble back. But he still refused to retract his hand, he pulled you closer, snarling in your face.

"Shane, stop!" You yelled, hoping that someone would hear you. As he dragged you back towards the fire that now felt anything but warm to you, you rammed your boot into his shin, taking his moment of weakness to raise your blade against his throat, taking advantage of his vulnerable and slightly bent form. "You really think that doing your own thing, causing conflict and rumours is the right thing. Then shame on you. You threaten me, or slander my man again, I'll feed you to the walkers in that barn myself."

With that he finally released you, feeling an inkling of regret for the first time in months, allowing you to stroll away and back to your tent. No one had heard you, Daryl was out cold, no doubt exhausted from his endless searching. Maybe he really did care about the dead and lost more than he did you, you zipped the tent up, careful as to not wake the man in your blankets, as you curled up in the corner and rested your head upon your knees, allowing the tears to fall behind the barricade of your legs.

But even if Daryl were tired, and he hadn't heard your loud words to Shane, as it had been farther out by the cars, he definitely heard your broken sobs that you attempted to mute. He shuffled in the sleeping bag, sitting up right and searching his surroundings, until his eyes finally landed on you. In a panicked haze he slipped beside you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulled your head up so he could see your face. "Wha' happened?" He asked, desperately wanting to find the reason behind your pain.

"Shane, he-he.." Oh god no, Daryl thought. His blue orbs ran all over you until he saw the sore spot between your upper and lower arm, anger fuelling him into an awakened state. "He grabbed me, and I was this close to slitting his throat. I was okay with doing it, I just didn't want us to get kicked out from here - we'd die out there. And I don't want to die but Shane's gonna kill all of us." Daryl held you rather than hunting down the man that had caused you so much sorrow, as much as he wanted to, you were more important.

"Look a' me. You didn't do anything wrong, you defended yourself," he tucked your hair behind your ear, pressing a kiss to your forehead, "we should tell Rick in the morning. He's a loose cannon and if he's coming after our own, it's not just that barn we have to be wary of." That damn barn was the last of your worries now, you were turning on each other, stupidly enough when you'd found a place safer than others to reside in. "And I'll deal with Shane. No one touches ma girl." He stated, seriousness underlaying his tone.

"I love you Daryl." You hiccuped, brushing the droplets from beneath your eyes, desperately looking up at him. Everything Shane said was a lie, it was just another one of his many ploys to have everyone under his thumb, just like how he persuaded Andrea to stand beside him in some of his brash decisions. He fed off her pain from losing Amy, and he was a wolf in sheep's clothing, prowling around and hunting for his next prey. Tonight it so happened to be you.

"Love you more." He leant down, smouldering your lips with his own, gently cupping your face. "We'll get Herschel to check your arm when he's awake, right now you need to rest. And if you want to sit outside and look at the stars, you wake me, ya got it?" You nodded, laying your head on his chest and the rest of your body weight atop of him, until you finally drifted off. And for once you didn't have a nightmare, instead you saw nothing, which was a blessing in disguise, the real blessing however were that you and Daryl were still alive, and you had each other for as long as you both breathed.

[headkiss]

something in the air

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: you’re convinced you hate steve, and that he hates you right back. during your camping trip with friends, you find out just how wrong you’ve been.

word count: 13.9k

warnings: smut, mentions of a bad home life/family relationships, one bed (tent) trope, enemies to lovers (ish), and a sprained ankle

a/n: okay this one took forever so thank u for your patience and i hope it was at least partially worth the wait! please let me know what you think and reblog if you enjoyed, it helps a bunch!!!!

༄

Steve Harrington is a menace. And not in a good way.

For some reason, he insists on making your life more difficult. It couldn’t be for nothing, but you didn’t know exactly why. Maybe it’s because you tend to do the same to him, maybe you liked to get under his skin just as much.

He hung out with assholes in high school, and by proxy, he was also an asshole. Plus, you were really close with Nancy throughout school, and when she and Steve broke up, it didn’t really help his case. You didn’t know the full story, though.

You had no idea that Nancy cheated on Steve with Jonathan, only that she had feelings for him. You didn’t know about his parents and how it all affects him. You didn’t know that he dumped his friends so quickly after upsetting Nancy, that he worked hard to make it better. You didn’t know how much he cared.

You barely knew him. All you knew is that he got on your nerves. You couldn’t stand him.

It went both ways, though. Steve found you irritating and he hated that you had the same group of friends now. Because it meant he had to be around you almost all the time.

He wasn’t aware, however, that you struggled in school to have friends that weren’t Nancy, and when they dated, he sort of took her away from you, cut your time with her and you were alone a lot. Logically, it’s not his fault, but it’s how you felt. He didn’t know that you had a hard time at home like he did.

Maybe, for both of you, the feud was an escape, a way to channel your negative energy towards each other and not anyone or anything else.

After graduating, you applied for a job at Family Video, only for it to be taken by none other than Steve Harrington. You knew Robin worked there, too, but she was actually your friend.

That left you with a job at the grocery store that you hated but had to keep. It sucked.

Again, maybe it’s not his fault, but you were usually mad at him anyways. Why not add another layer to it?

On your days off, you spent your time at Family Video, though. You didn’t like being at home, and Nancy was still busy with high school for another year, so you hung out with Robin. Unfortunately, hanging out with Robin often meant hanging out with Steve, too.

That’s where you found yourself now, walking through the glass doors into the video store.

“Hi Robin,” you said as you walked up to the counter.

“Hey!” She noticed the takeout bag in your hand, “oh my gosh, you’re the best.”

“No hi for me, babe?”

“Fuck off, Steve.”

He scoffed. “This is my workplace, actually. I can't leave.”

“Yeah, I’m painfully aware of that.”

“Why don’t you ever just go home? You don’t need to be here.”

You tense up at that one, because he’s right. You don’t need to be there, but the last place you want to go is home these days. You roll your shoulders and try to shake it off.

“Anyway. Robin’s taking her break now. Bye.”

Robin just shrugs as you pull her away into the back room.

Steve is left thinking about why you reacted that way to what he said. It wasn’t the worst thing he’s said to you by far, and he knows it, so why was it enough to make you wince a little? And why the fuck does he care?

Once you were alone Robin glanced at you. Noting your off behaviour due to the home comment. She hates that two of her closest friends don’t get along, and she thinks she has a plan to change that.

“He doesn’t know,” she says. “About…you know.”

“Yeah, I know.” And you did, but that didn’t stop it from stinging. You just wanted to stop thinking about it. “So, how’s work going?”

“Ugh, it’s so boring. This food helps.”

“Not even my presence? Just the food?”

“Oh. You’re okay too, I guess.”

The both of you laugh, and you’re reminded of just how great Robin’s company can be. She takes your mind off of things and you wish you could show her how much you appreciate it.

So, when she asks you if you want to go catch a movie that night, you say yes.

-

You show up a little early, making sure you meet Robin outside before the movie starts.

However, she wasn’t showing up. And Robin wasn’t the type to be late, or blow you off without an excuse. So, you just went inside without her. You wandered around for a bit, giving her another chance to show up but she never did.

A call of your name grabbed your attention, but the voice made you roll your eyes. Why was Steve here?

“What are you doing here, babe?”

People would think the nickname was an endearment, something sweet. When it was coming from Steve, directed at you, though, it was almost like an insult. Spat out and accompanied by a frown of an angry pinch of his brows.

“Supposed to meet Robin, not that it’s any of your business.”

He chuckles, like he knows something you don’t. “Actually, it is my business. ‘Cause I was supposed to meet Robin, too.”

“She’s gonna be the death of me.”

“That’s something we can agree on.”

She must’ve thought putting you two together unknowingly would solve the issues. It certainly wasn’t that simple, but bless her for trying.

“Well. I’m not gonna give up some popcorn and a movie, Steve.”

“Neither am I. I’m already here, so…”

He wasn’t going to leave? Why? You really didn’t think seeing the latest rom-com would interest him, but then again, Robin got him here somehow. She thought she was so slick, you’re sure of it.

“Fine.”

“Fine,” he parrots back.

You get your snacks and go to the screening room, all without talking to Steve. You’re actually trying to ignore his presence as a whole. He’s trailing behind you the entire time, though, so it’s not that easy. When you sit down, he sits beside you, and you glare.

“Why are you beside me?”

“It’s the seat on my ticket, babe. Where else would I go?”

“Seriously? Do you see the amount of empty seats?” You gestured around the theatre to prove your point.

In return, he just leaned back in his seat and let out a dramatic sigh, like it was the most comfortable he’d been all day when you know the seats are lumpy and stiff. You turn your face to the screen and go back to ignoring him.

He was a dork at the movies, you found. And it hadn’t even started.

Steve giggled at the stupidest commercials, would nudge you anytime he found a joke funny just to annoy you more. He ate his popcorn in giant handfuls where most of it would just land in his lap anyway. You even moved seats, leaving two between you and him, and he just moved over with you.

Fucking Steve.

“Would you move back over?”

“But the view’s so much better here.”

“Insufferable,” you mutter as you move back to your original seat. He tries to follow again but you push him back down with a hand on his chest, you ignore how it feels under your palm. “Stay here like a good boy.”

His heart rate picks up and he prays you can’t feel it. He kinda thought that was hot, but he shakes it out of his head before he thinks about it too much, what it might mean. He looks at you from under his lashes, taunting. “What if I wanna be bad, babe?”

You stand up fully and take your hand off of him. You don’t know if the comment was meant to sound so dirty, but you don’t even want to think about it. The idea of Steve in any way that’s more than a pain in your ass makes you shudder. The opening credits of the film grab your attention.

“You stay here. I’m gonna go there.” You don’t give him enough time to respond.

He watches you walk away, and he decides he’ll let you have at least some peace until he goes over and bothers you again. He’s itching to go and sit next to you, and he convinces himself it’s because of his pent up frustration from the work day, nothing else. You’re the only one he can argue with that will give it right back to him. He hates it, but he craves it all the same.

It’s about halfway through the movie when Steve sits next to you again. You shake your head, though you're surprised he waited this long.

“Thought I told you to stay,” you whisper rather aggressively at him.

“Yeah, well I don’t think you really hold any authority over me, babe.”

“Nobody trained you as a kid to listen?”

“You’re talking like I’m a dog.”

“Might as well be.”

He scoffed, maybe a little loudly, but he didn’t care. You tested him constantly, and he wasn’t sure what it was about you that made him so frustrated all of the time. Maybe it was the fact that you never even gave him a chance to be civil with you, staring him down and rolling your eyes the first time you even met. Maybe it was the way he knew you were a good friend to others, he saw it with Robin and Nancy and everyone else, just not him.

Either way, you made his blood boil, so much so that he often thought about you when you weren’t around. The things you’d say and the looks you’d give him. You never left his mind and it infuriated him.

“You’re a real pain, you know that?”

“That's all you got for me, Steve?” You blinked at him with an innocent smile.

“You know-” he’s cut off by multiple people in the theatre shushing him.

“I tried to tell him, guys. So sorry.”

Despite people telling you to be quiet, you and Steve only last about two minutes next to each other before whisper-fighting again. It gets bad enough that you’re asked to leave.

As much as you know you’re both at fault, you feel fine blaming him.

“Seriously, Steve?” You spoke harshly at him once you’re outside. “You couldn’t just stay two seats away and let me watch the damn movie?”

“I didn’t want to watch it, so I talked to you instead. What’s so bad about that?”

“Oh don’t play innocent with me.”

“Fine. No, I couldn’t. You piss me off and I just wanted to hangout with Robin, not deal with you yet again today.”

“You’re not dealing with me. I can deal with myself, and I wanted to be with Robin too, asshole. Don’t get that twisted.”

“Trust me. You never let me fucking forget how little you want to be around me.”

“Because this is what happens!” You’re tired, and you don’t feel like arguing with him anymore. “Fuck this, I’m going home. Thanks for ruining my night, Harrington.”

He almost offers you a ride home. He knows you took the bus, you usually do. And he also knows that you hate the bus, he hears you say it to Robin enough. Then, he thinks about sitting next to you for longer and decides against it.

“Ditto,” he spits your name back at you. Not ‘babe,’ not any other nickname.

-

Once you're home and safely in your room, after the usual shit from your parents, you dial Robin’s number. She picks up on the third ring.

“Heyyy,” she sounds guilty, and she should.

“I’m gonna end you, Robs. What the hell?”

“I’m sorry! I just wanted you and Steve to get along and I thought maybe forcing you two to spend time together would help.”

She says it in a rush, her rambly way of speaking and you feel bad for being angry with her when you know she had good intentions, but she lied and you hated being lied to. Even if it was a small one.

“Robin, he got us kicked out of the fucking theatre.”

“You mean you both got kicked out?”

You sputter. You know she’s right but you hate to admit it.

“Fine, whatever. Still. That was torture, Robin. Torture!”

“I just want you guys to be civil, at least.”

“Maybe you should talk to Steve, then,” you hate that even when he’s not around, you can’t avoid him. “He’s just as guilty as I am.”

“I know that, and I will. I have another thing to bring up, actually.”

You’re eager to change the subject, to not talk about Steve Harrington for five fucking minutes so you hum, tell her to go on.

“The camping trip?”

You groan into the phone, “I know we do it every year but I hate camping.” Hate is an exaggeration.

“Nance wanted me to remind you, so that you book off work and don’t make any excuses.”

Fuck. She knows you too well.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll go.”

“Yay! And I really am sorry about the movie, I thought it would work.”

“I wouldn’t be so hopeful if I were you, Robs. Thanks for trying, I think? Bye.”

You hang up and flop backwards onto your bed. Staring at the ceiling, you can’t help but reflect on your day. The way Steve seemed to infiltrate everything you did, how his chest felt under your hand, the way he made you lose your mind like nobody else. You roll over and bury your face in your pillow.

Even when he’s not around, Steve’s able to drive you insane.

He wasn’t feeling much different. Steve had a very similar phone call with Robin where he complained about what she did, asked her what the hell she was thinking, and agreed to the camping trip reluctantly just as you had.

Robin couldn’t believe how similar you two were, and you had no idea.

Steve fell asleep with his face squished in his pillow and your perfume lingering in his senses. It was a fitful sleep.

-

The days pass by and you manage to avoid Steve as much as possible. When you visit Family Video, you make sure it’s during Robin’s breaks or on a day Steve isn’t meant to be working. When you do see him, you try to stay quiet and simply glare. You don’t feel like wasting energy arguing with him anymore.

Before you know it, it’s time for the camping trip. Nancy writes packing lists for everyone, Jonathan and Argyle are in charge of equipment, Robin plans everything, Steve and Eddie get the tents, and you plan the meals. It really is a whole system, and it’s been working so far and you can only hope it stays that way.

The morning you’re set to leave, you’re extra tired. You barely slept the night before and when you think about it you haven’t been sleeping well for a while. Since the movies with Steve, actually. You’re half asleep sitting on your porch steps next to your luggage when Eddie’s van finally arrives.

The sharp honk of the horn startles you, and you groggily grab your things and make your way over to the car. Of course, you’re not ecstatic to be spending an extended amount of time trapped in a van with Steve, but you’re too sleepy to worry about it too much.

Jonathan and Argyle are taking a car packed full with most of the stuff, while Eddie drives the rest of you along with whatever couldn’t fit in Jonathan’s car.

As you climb in, you don’t really take note of who’s sitting where, only that there’s enough room in the back for you to take a nap, so that’s what you do. You say hi, then, you’re curling up and closing your eyes. Your friends decide not to bother you and let you sleep.

Steve, sitting in the passenger seat next to Eddie, couldn’t stop turning his head to check if you were still asleep. He’d cover it up by saying something to Robin or Nancy, but they could see where his eyes were looking. On one hand, he was glad you were asleep; you seemed tired—more so than usual—and it kept him from having to argue with you. On the other, he sort of wished you’d wake up and say something to him, even if it was an insult. He missed the banter, the way he could let himself go around you.

He’d never say it, he barely even lets himself think it, but he misses the sound of your voice, too.

He didn't even want to wake you up when the van finally got to the campsite, even though the others left him to do just that. You looked so peaceful, the usual scowl you wore around him wiped off your face. He reached a hand out carefully, slowly, like he was almost afraid to wake you. He ran it up your arm first, ignoring the buzz in his fingertips, and shook your shoulder gently.

“Babe, wake up.”

You blinked your eyes open lazily, “oh god. Please don’t make fun of me right now, Steve. I’m too tired.”

He tries not to think of the pinch he feels at the fact that you think he woke you simply to say something to tease you. He doesn’t blame you, but it still bothers him. He pulls his hand away.

“Just telling you we’re here, sleepyhead. Would’ve let you keep sleeping, you know, enjoy the quiet. Everyone else wanted me to wake you up.”

“‘Kay, well your job is done.”

“Yep. Bye.”

He walks away after that, and you think that might’ve been the most awkward interaction you’ve ever had with Steve. He was distracted, maybe. Something on his mind you think. You stretch with a groan and move on.

You finally make your way over to where everyone else is setting up the tents, and Robin greets you with a dramatic hug. “Don’t be mad.”

You pull back and squint at her. “What did you do?”

“So,” she rocks back on her heels. “While you were asleep during the drive, the tent arrangements were sort of made and you and Steve happen to be sharing.”

“What? Why?”

“Well…me and Nancy want to share,” she looks at you shyly, even though you know she’s harboured feelings for a while. “And so the big tent went to three of the guys and Steve volunteered to share the last one with you.”

“He volunteered? You’re joking, right?”

Steve? Voluntarily share a tent with you? There was absolutely no way. The last time you checked, he hated you and vice versa, so what the hell was he trying to do here?

“No, I’m not.”

“Fuck’s sake,” you take a deep breath. You don’t want to ruin Robin and Nancy’s time and to be honest, when you think about it, you know Steve the most out of all of the guys. “Okay. Fine.”

“Thank you!” She then runs off to set up the tent with Nancy.

You look around for Steve and find him by himself, trying to put up the tent that would be yours, too. You make your way over there to help, and maybe to figure out what he was up to with this sharing thing.

“Hey, Harrington?”

He looks up from where he was fiddling with the tent, his forehead slightly damp and his jacket forgotten on the ground. You look at his arms, the way they move, but catch yourself before he notices. What the hell?

“Uh oh. The last name…”

“You agreed to share a tent with me?”

He honestly has no clue how he’ll talk his way out of this one. The truth is, he volunteered to share with you not only because he thinks Robin and Nancy deserve to share, but because he hated the idea of any of the other guys being the ones to sleep next to you. He doesn’t even want to begin to unpack what that might mean.

“Is that gonna be a problem?”

You crossed your arms, “you tell me, Steve. What are you playing at?”

“Wha- nothing. You should be thanking me, actually. ‘Cause Eddie and Argyle smell like weed all the time and Jonathan Sleep talks. I know from last year.”

“Thank you? Oh, Steve my saviour, for saving me from having to sleep next to a sleep talker.. the horror!”

He rolls his eyes, “are you gonna help me with this tent or stand there like a princess, huh?”

You stomp over to help him, sort of petulant and grumpy. You just want to know why he seemed so okay with this. None of it made sense and ever since he woke you up from your sleep in the van, things feel weird with Steve. You aren’t having full on arguments so far, and you don’t even remember the last time you’d gone this long without yelling at least once.

Miraculously, you and Steve actually finish setting up your tent first.

He smiled at you when it was done, and you shook off the feeling in your chest at having that boyish grin of his directed at you. You don’t think he’s ever genuinely smiled at you before.

After the site was set up, you all spent the rest of the day moving your stuff to the right places. It occupied enough of your time that when you were all finished, it was beginning to get dark out, the sun and its beams replaced by the night sky.

That night, nobody was up for cooking a big meal, so you all settled for cooking hot dogs over the fire that Steve built. It was a good night, in the end. Steve sat across the fire from you and the whole group split off into smaller conversations meaning you didn’t really have to interact with him. You still looked at him, though.

Every couple of minutes your gaze would flick over to him, his face lit up by the orange glow of the campfire. He’s always been pretty, you knew that, but you could see it now more than ever. The way he looked when he laughed, his hair a little messy but he didn’t care about it around his friends. It was hard to look away.

He found himself doing the same, stealing glances when you were too preoccupied telling a story or giggling at something someone said. You always grabbed his attention in a way he didn’t understand. He wanted to look at you, to talk to you (even when talking was more like fighting).

As it got later, and the majority of the group had already gone to bed, the rest of you decided to turn in, too. You had sort of been dreading going to bed because you were worried about how having Steve there would be. If you two could get along long enough to sleep.

He let you get changed first, hanging back to put out the fire and make sure everything was cleaned up. He waited a bit before going to bed, lingering by the dying fire and hoping you’d be asleep by the time he joined you in the tent.

You weren’t asleep, but you laid facing away from his sleeping bag and stayed that way while he laid down next to you. It was weird, feeling Steve’s body so close to yours. You could feel the body heat, the slight shift everytime he moved.

Steve had trouble getting comfortable. Something about you being so close to him in this way had his mind running miles a minute. He could smell your shampoo, could see details he never really lingered on before.

When Steve shifted once more you turned onto your back, “will you stop moving? Can’t sleep ‘cause you’re noisy.”

He smiles at the sleep in your voice, he hopes you don’t see it.

“Sorry, babe. Trying to get comfy.”

You expected him to say something along the lines of ‘you can sleep outside if it bothers you so much,’ not to apologize. He’s sweet when he’s tired, it seems, because after that he really does try to stay still.

“Um. ‘S okay,” you turn back onto your side, shutting your eyes and adding, “night, Steve.”

“Goodnight.”

He moves one more time before falling asleep, as slowly and quietly as he can and he winces when the noise of his sleeping bag against the fabric of the tent still rings through the small space. Luckily, you’re already sleeping this time.

-

At one point during the night, Steve wakes up extra warm. He opens his eyes and the space is dark, but he can see enough to know that the two of you have moved much closer in your sleep.

Your sleeping bags were against each other, Steve’s arm sticking out of his and slung over your waist, his nose almost touching your hair.

It’s an intimate position, especially for the pair of you, and he really doesn’t want to move but he also doesn’t want you to wake up and yell at him for being so close.

He takes another inhale, smelling your hair again before pulling himself away from you and turning to face the opposite direction.

He misses the feeling of you tucked close to him but chooses not to dwell on that.

-

The first full day was mostly uneventful.

You spent the time hanging out around the campsite reading, or playing cards, or just talking. It was nice to be able to spend so much time with the people you keep close, the friends you know you’ll always have.

As for Steve, things with him are odd. You don’t find yourself arguing with him, more so just teasing and letting things go that you wouldn’t have before. It seems like you both have realized something. What exactly that is, you’re not sure.

For now, you blame the atmosphere. Something in the air is making things shift around, feel different.

At one point you and Robin take a walk, finding the communal bathrooms and some trails that you can take later. She really just wanted to have someone to spill to about how things went with Nancy, and you were more than happy to listen. To get your mind off of a certain boy who wouldn’t seem to leave your thoughts.

The time ticked by lazily, the day filled with laughs and a lightness that you don’t feel when you’re in Hawkins. There are so many horrible people in the town, and while you know there are good ones, too, it’s nice to escape the bad for a couple of days.

Nothing super eventful happened until that night.

You all decided to open up the lunchbox Eddie brought containing joints, some provided by Argyle, which you wouldn’t touch given your tolerance, and smoke by the fire that burned as brightly as the night before.

A couple of joints were lit, passed around the circle until they were finished. Some people would hog them for longer, causing some false anger and light slaps and playful whines to ‘share,’ and ‘be nice!’

Somehow, you and Steve ended up next to each other this time. And somehow, there wasn’t any comment made about it, you both accepted it, welcomed it, even. He was warm, his skin like a space heater that you actually wanted to keep close. You blamed it on the fact that you got chilly easily.

Once, when you tried to reach for the joint from Steve’s grasp, he gave you a teasing grin and held it out of your reach.

“Hand it over, Harrington,” you huffed.

“If you want it, you gotta come get it, babe.”

Usually, the nickname would come out harsh, but not this time. No, this time it lost its edge, leaving his mouth like a true endearment. It made your heart stutter.

“‘Kay,” you were already feeling it, so you didn’t hesitate to practically climb into his lap to get it.

He was frozen at the feeling of you against him, on him. It made him blush and he hoped that the glow of the fire hid it well. You grabbed the joint easily, humming in success and moving back to your spot next to him.

He avoided Robin’s gaze, knowing it would say ‘seriously?’ and raise even more questions in his head about what he actually feels for you. He wasn’t ready to dive into that just yet.

As the sky got darker and the hours shifted to the earliest of the morning, the group began to head to bed. First, it was Nancy and Robin, stumbling off giggling with their elbows linked. Then, it was Jonathan and Argyle, who left with a ‘goodnight dudes.’ When Eddie saw that it was just him, you, and Steve left, he sent you both a wink and strutted off with that mischievous grin on his face.

You didn’t really want to know what he was implying with that look.

“You tired?” Steve asked you.

“Not really,” you shook your head. “Would love to lay down in my sleeping bag, though.”

“Forgot weed makes you snuggly, babe.”

He’s right, it does, and you're resisting the urge to lean your head on his shoulder as he speaks. He stands before you can, grabbing a bucket to put out the fire and then leading you both to your tent with his flashlight.

It’s not long before you’re both in bed, facing each other and laying closer than you ever thought you would. The weed was mingling with your thoughts about the boy, the new feeling you got when he looked at you. You’re sure it was nothing. At least, you think you are.

“Hey Steve?” You speak softly.

“Yeah?” He’s laying on your side, facing you and you’re doing the same. He isn’t sure when your face got so close to his but he doesn’t mind. Not one bit. What is happening?

“Why’re you being nicer to me? Thought you hated me,” you’re being more honest than you would usually allow yourself to be, especially with him. “It’s confusing.”

His eyes roam your face, the color of your eyes and the way your hair fell over your forehead messily due to your position. He brushed it back, contemplating what he might say.

“I never hated you,” and he means it.

“Oh,” you don’t know what else to say. You’re surprised by his admission.

“Do you hate me?”

“I don’t think so,” you shake your head, correct yourself. “No. I don't.”

He realizes his hand is still pushing the hair from your forehead, and when he goes to pull it away you make some sort of sound in protest. He keeps going.

“I’m sorry that I judged you ‘cause of high school.”

Your eyes are closed, but he knows they’re probably looking sad, misty. He can tell you feel guilty, though he appreciates the apology, he doesn’t want you to be upset.

“I’m sorry, too.” He knows the dislike went both ways. He’s not so sure about that anymore, though.

You shuffle closer to him, letting your cuddling tendencies while high get the best of you and pushing yourself into Steve’s warmth. You tuck your head under his chin, the sleeping bag preventing you from using your arms. Instead, he frees one of his and wraps it around you.

You fall asleep with the smell of Steve surrounding you, bergamot, something woodsy, something sweet buried under the scent of weed that still lingers.

Your clouded mind doesn’t let you think about what this might mean, what might’ve changed in the short time you’ve spent at the campsite. Same goes for him. Steve’s content holding you for now, and worrying about it in the morning.

-

When you wake up, Steve still has an arm wrapped around you, though you’ve spun to face away from him. He’s close, his chest against your back and legs bracketing yours. You can tell even through the layers of your sleeping bags.

It makes your head spin.

You think maybe everything you’ve ever thought about Steve has been wrong—except for the fact that he’s pretty, you’re right about that—and it’s making you panic.

You lift his arm off of you as carefully as possible, just enough to slip out from under it. You wince when he makes some sort of sound of protest, his arm seemingly searching for you. You don’t want him to wake up now, you’re not ready to face him, really. You need to think.

Lucky for you, he finds your pillow and decides to cuddle that instead, remaining asleep.

You’re up before anyone else, catching the last bit of the sunrise and seeing the yellows and oranges give way to the blue skies of the day. You sit on the ground with your back against one of the logs used as a bench during campfires, your legs bent and your chin propped up on your knees.

The quiet is nice, nothing but the birds chirping and the wind rustling tree leaves. It allows you to try to figure out whatever the hell this camping trip has done to your relationship with Steve, if you could even call it that.

It seems that at some point during the short time you’ve been here, the hatred you thought you had for him had dimmed, changed into something more friendly, maybe. Though, you wouldn’t describe some of the thoughts you had about him recently as friendly.

You huff and drop your face so your forehead rests on your knees now. You haven’t figured one thing out. If anything, forcing yourself to think, to unscramble your thoughts, has only made things worse. Blurred the lines more.

It could’ve been minutes, or it could’ve been hours before someone else got up. That someone was Nancy, who simply walked over to where you sat, and took a seat next to you. She knew when not to ask, when to just be there. You’d known each other long enough for things to be easy like that.

When you turn your face to look at her she gives you that classic Nancy smile, close-mouthed and soft, and it tells you that she’s there, that it’ll be okay in the end.

In that moment, you believe it, and you rest your head on her shoulder.

-

Other than your inner crisis of the morning, the day is uneventful like the one before. You all head down to the nearby lake and laze around. You keep reading the book you brought, munch on the snacks Nancy packed up in a picnic basket, and even have a nap on the blanket that was lying beneath you.

You had an early morning, after all.

Steve couldn’t keep himself from sneaking glances at you all day. Though, maybe it doesn’t count as sneaking if both Robin and Eddie call him out on it. He doesn’t say anything to them, he doesn’t think he could even if he wanted to. He himself has no idea what’s going on.

All he knows is that you look really pretty when you sleep. Well, you look pretty all of the time, but there’s something about the complete serenity on your face, the way your cheek is squished against your hand and your hair falls around you messily.

When the breeze picks up, he uses the blanket he was sitting on to cover you. He doesn’t let himself overthink it in the moment, even if he knows he will later. He just wants you to be warm and comfortable.

Robin pulls him aside under the guise of wanting to grab something from her tent and fully believing in the buddy system. In reality, she wanted to try and knock some sense into him, because she knows she’ll be able to crack him sooner than she could you.

“Steve, you like her,” she tells him. Not a question, a statement.

“I don’t, Robin.”

“Oh come on! You won’t stop looking at her, you tucked her in for fucks sake!”

He only stares at her, unsure of what to say.

“How can you be so clueless about your own feelings? We can all see it. Me and Nance talked about it earlier, and she said she saw your lady really early this morning looking all troubled.”

“She’s not my lady. Jesus, Robin.”

“Of course that’s the part you choose to focus on, dingus. Means she’s confused, and so are you. I knew you guys didn’t hate each other.”

“Just ‘cause we don’t hate each other anymore, or whatever, doesn’t mean we like each other, either.”

“Can't wait to tell you I told you so later.”

With that, she heads back to the group, leaving Steve even more frazzled than he already was.

That morning, when he woke up holding your pillow, his face buried in it, he couldn’t ignore the disappointment he felt because of your absence. Hated that he inhaled deeply to catch a whisper of your perfume or shampoo on the pillow.

He also can't stop thinking about the conversation from the night before.

‘Do you hate me?’

‘I don’t think so…No. I don’t.’

He wonders if you really meant it. He hopes you did.

-

The two of you don’t talk again until you’re going to bed, back in the solitude of your shared tent. You’d been orbiting each other all day, round and round and never colliding.

You’re forced to talk to him when you climb into the tent, Steve already in his sleeping bag with a book propped open and a pair of glasses perched on his nose.

“Didn’t know you could read, Harrington.”

He peeks at you through his glasses, your face clearer than usual thanks to them. “I’m full of surprises, babe.”

You’re realizing that now, you think.

“And the glasses?” You gesture towards him with your hand, moving to sit down atop your sleeping bag when he replies.

“Got beat up one too many times, I think. Ended up with shit vision.”

“At least you look good in them,” you blurt out.

It’s true, he does look good in them. You think he’d look good in anything, really. The frames suit him, make him look softer in a way. Even though you mean it, you didn’t want to say it out loud. You hope he’ll ignore it for your sake and move on. He doesn’t.

“You think so?”

He sounds like he truly means that question, like what you think actually matters to him. It does matter to him. In fact, you’re the only person besides Robin who’s seen him with them on and he can’t help but feel nervous, insecure.

“Um,” you look at him. “Yeah, I do.”

You’re pretty, you almost add, but you stop yourself. You haven’t figured things out enough to say things like that to him right now. You don’t know if he’ll tease you for it, hold it against you, or if maybe he’ll keep looking at you the way he is right now. You hope it’s the last option.

His gaze is tender, but it leaves your skin burning. His eyes trail your entire body, down and back up until they’re locked on yours once again. He’s taking his time to see you in a way he hasn’t let himself until now. The color of your skin and the dips and curves of your body, the way your hair frames your face and the shine of lip balm on your lips. He closes his book, tosses it aside.

“They’d look good on you too,” it takes you a second to realize he’s talking about the glasses. He shuffles closer to you, takes them off and pushes them onto your face. “There.”

His fingertips brush the skin of your face when he pulls his hands away.

“Jesus, Steve, you got punched badly enough for this prescription?” You squint at him through his lenses.

He huffs out a laugh, small, but there. You want to make him laugh again and again. The thought scares you because you know that something is changing in how you look at Steve, that maybe it changed a long time ago and you were too busy mouthing off at him to notice.

“I think it has more to do with the number of punches, not their force,” he says. Then, “they look nice. The glasses, I mean.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

You take them off and give them back to him, he tosses them aside to where his book lays forgotten. He’s not so interested in reading anymore, anyways. Not when you’re here, not when you seem to be getting along well enough that he keeps looking at your lips.

Everything’s fucked. It’s all so different, like a tectonic plate has shifted in his mind and stirred it up, changed how he sees you. If only he knew the exact same thing was happening to you, too.

It’s quiet for a bit, sort of awkward. There’s something you know you have to talk about, but neither of you want to bring it up.

Steve seems to be the braver one in the moment as he starts, “listen. About last night-”

“It’s okay, Steve,” you cut him off. “If you didn’t mean what you said. I understand.”

“No! No, it’s not-” he cuts himself off this time, trying to find the right words to say. “I did mean it.”

“What parts, exactly?” You hate that you have to ask for clarity, but you need to know in order to feel less afraid about what you feel. If he was in the same boat, you’re sure it’d make you feel safer.

“All of it. The part where I don’t hate you, that I never did. The part where I’m sorry for how things have been between us until now.”

“I meant it, too,” you say after a beat, voice almost shy. “All of it.”

“Can we be friends?” He asks, though the way his sight keeps flicking from your mouth to your eyes to the way your pyjama top falls off your shoulder doesn’t feel friendly. No, it feels heavier than that.

You nod, “I would like that, Steve.”

You can smell his shampoo, his scent, and feel his body heat that’s become more familiar in the last couple of days than ever. When did you move so close?

He’s right next to you, your legs touching and facing each other and you can feel his breath tickling your lips, taunting you.

“Do you think maybe we can start being friends tomorrow?” He says.

“Why’s that?” You ask, though by the way his hand comes up to cradle your jaw, his thumb brushing your lower lip, you think you know exactly why.

“‘Cause I want to do some very unfriendly things to you right now if you’ll let me.”

“Okay.”

It’s the only confirmation he needs before he leans in, pushing his lips onto yours sweetly at first, just a peck. Like he’s testing the waters and making sure you won’t pull away. When he pulls back and you try to chase his mouth, that’s when he really kisses you.

This time, it’s messier, quicker. It’s heated in a way that has your stomach swirling and your thighs squeezing together. He licks into your mouth, fully tasting you and opening you up for him. It’s dirty, the way he slows it down so it’s languid.

It has you climbing into his lap to straddle him and pushing your hands into his hair to keep him close. It has you grinding yourself against him and letting a small whimper escape when he pulls your bottom lip between his teeth before diving back in.

You’re absolutely done for when he pulls back long enough to peel off his shirt and then kisses you dumb all over again, his hands on your waist urging you to move over him. He eventually takes your shirt off, too, but he doesn’t lean back in.

No, he’s completely taken by the sight of you and your lack of bra. Transfixed.

“Can I touch you, baby?”

That one’s new.

“Please.”

The word sparks him into action, and he can’t believe it just came out of your mouth and was directed at him. He thinks he must be dreaming, it’s all too good to be true. The feel of you against him, on him, all over him. The way your tits feel in his hands when he cups them and brushes his thumbs over your nipples, the hitch in your breath when he does.

“Fuck. You’re so pretty. So, so pretty.” He can’t stop himself from saying it.

”You’re pretty, too.” Your hands interlock at the back of his neck and pull him in to kiss you again.

It’s not much longer before he flips you over, grabbing a pillow to place beneath your head and letting his hips weigh yours down, pinning you beneath him with one hand propping him up and the other still busy at your chest.

Your hands trail down his back, feeling the muscles ripple and shift under his heated skin. He’s pushing himself into you, hard, giving you both a taste of the friction you’ve been needing. It’s not enough, though, and he knows it. He needs more, too, but he holds off to tease you, to hear you say please again.

He can feel your chest heaving beneath him, and he pulls away from your mouth to give you room to breathe. He moves his kisses to your jaw, down your neck, instead. He’s careful not to leave marks, but he’s greedy with you nonetheless, covering as much skin as he can until he finds that spot that makes you whimper.

His ear is right by your mouth when you do and he thinks he’s found his new favorite sound.

His kisses stray further south, and your hands push into his hair when he pauses at your chest, pecking across the swell of your tits before taking a nipple in his mouth. As much as he wants to, he doesn’t stay there for long. The way you’re squirming a little under him, pulling his hair tighter, tells him you need more and he decides he’s teased you enough.

“Can I?” He asks, sitting up enough to hook his fingers in the waistband of your pyjama bottoms and panties.

“Only if you take yours off, too.”

It sounds like a good deal to him, he’s straining against his boxers, and he really wants to see you. Taste you.

He pulls your bottoms off first, leaving you naked and waiting as he stands to take his pants off.

“Hurry up, Steve. It’s cold.”

He lowers himself to hover over you once again, “don’t worry, baby. I’ll warm you right up.”

Then, he’s making his way back down, a kissed path down your stomach until he’s laying between your legs. His hands run soothingly along the outsides of your thighs, hold them apart when you try to force them shut.

You feel shy under his stare, focused on where you’re wet and wanting. You seriously can't believe this is happening.

“You’re beautiful, okay? Don’t need to hide from me,” he punctuates his sentence with a sweet kiss to your inner thigh.

You don’t have time to say anything back because his mouth is on you, licking a stripe from the top up to your clit that has your eyes fluttering shut. One of your hands is back in his hair, the other searching for one of his and holding tight when you find it.

It’s not long until he has you moaning, your thighs now thrown over his shoulders. He’s groaning into you everything you buck up towards his mouth, encouraging you. He acts as if he’s enjoying it just as much as you are even though nobody’s mouth is on him. It makes it that much hotter.

You don’t think you’ll ever be able to look at him without thinking of what he’s capable of making you feel after this.

“Steve,” you whine.

He pulls back to look at your face, the pinch between your brows telling him you need more. “What is it, baby?”

“Please.”

“Gotta tell me, pretty girl. Use your words.” He knows he’s teasing you but the reaction it’s getting him is too good to stop. The way you whimper when he licks at your clit only to pull back before you can even process it.

“Your fingers, please,” you say it quietly, but he lets it slide.

He uses the hand that isn’t still holding yours and brings two fingers to your entrance, circling it and getting them wet before he pushes them in slowly.

Steve doesn't think he’s ever felt this way with another person. He's so invested in making sure you’re comfortable, so taken by how you look and how you sound. He’s so completely lost in you and this and he doesn’t want it to end.

His fingers are moving steadily, finding that spot inside you that has your toes curling. He keeps going until he feels you squeeze around his fingers, his mouth back on you, though his eyes stay on your face. He knows you’re close when your head falls back, when you moan louder than before, when your thighs tighten around him.

“Is that good, baby?” It’s a rhetorical question, but he wants to hear it from you.

“Yeah, Steve,” you breathe out. “Really close.”

“Go on. Come for me.”

You don’t know how, but his words draw your orgasm out of you. It’s intense and has you laying back down, your head digging into the pillow and your hand squeezing his tight.

He doesn’t pull away until you push his head lightly, needing a minute to regain your bearings because of him. You don’t know how he can be so good, make you come in a way you didn’t think was possible. And he still looks as pretty as ever while doing it, his mouth and fingers wet with you.

You think your eyes almost roll back into your head when he sucks his fingers clean.

Steve Harrington really is a menace, just maybe not in the way you thought.

Your legs fall from his shoulders when he moves back up to your lips, kissing you slow and steady. It’s grounding, in a way. Brings you back to him and clears whatever remaining haze was there from your orgasm.

You can feel him hard against your lower stomach as you kiss, and you reach down to grasp him in your hand, stroking him slowly. He moans into the kiss when you do. You utter his name against his lips, he pulls away and rests his forehead on yours in response.

“Yeah?” He’s breathing heavy, his voice coming out breathy and rough.

“Fuck me.”

His hips buck into your hand when he hears the words come out of your mouth.

The hand holding him guided him down to your entrance, and he takes over from there. He holds a hand by your mouth, “spit.”

You do, and he uses it to lube himself up, and pushes in with his elbows on either side of your head, blocking out anything that isn’t him. Once he’s buried all the way, your legs wrap around his waist, urging him to stay close.

The first thrust is slow, almost painfully so because you can feel every single inch as he moves. He’s big and the stretch is just enough to make your eyes water, just enough to have you moaning again.

“Holy shit, Steve.”

“I know, sweet girl. You’re doing so good.”

“Faster, please.”

He complies, his rhythm picking up and his mouth finding the spot on your neck he discovered earlier. It’s all-consuming, the way he touches you, the way he fucks you. It’s as if the rest of the world has melted away and all you can sense is him. His smell, his skin against yours, the way he moves inside you.

You tug him by the hair back to your mouth, letting him swallow your moans. He savours every single one, adjusts his hips every time one is louder than the rest.

Somehow, he can tell when you need more from him, like he’s learned your body completely even in the short time he’s had it. When he knows it this time, he sits up so he’s on his knees, takes one of your legs and sets it on his shoulder so he can move deeper, better.

“You feel so good, babe. Fuck, can’t believe you’ve been right in front of me for so long.”

It’s like he can’t control what comes out of his mouth anymore, all he knows is that you feel incredible, that you’re beautiful and he wants to break down every single wall that’s been put between the two of you. He wants to know you.

It doesn’t take much longer for your second orgasm to build up, your hands bunching up the fabric of the sleeping bag for something to hold onto. When Steve takes a hand and pushes it against your lower stomach, asking, “can you feel me, pretty. Right there,” that’s when you hit your peak again.

You’re a mess, moaning his name over and over as he fucks you through it all. When you’ve come down, Steve isn’t far behind you, his thrusts sloppier and small moans escaping him.

“Can I come on you, baby?”

“Fuck, Steve. Yeah.”

He pulls out, jerking himself off until he comes over your stomach, all but collapsing next to you when he’s done. Your heads on the same pillow and pants leaving your mouths. Steve searches the tent for his boxers from before, using them to clean the both of you up the best he can.

You’re still sticky and sweaty when he covers you both with his sleeping bag as if it’s a blanket, but you don’t mind. You want him to stay close, you think.

“You’re really pretty,” he says quietly. “I definitely do not hate you.”

You giggle, push yourself closer to him, your face at his chest. “I feel a lot of things for you, I think. Hate isn’t one of them.”

His heart swells at your words. He doesn’t think you’ve ever been so candid with him and he treasures it.

“Where have you been hiding this sweet girl, huh? ‘Cause I really like her.”

“Shut up,” you deflect.

“Just being honest. Let’s sleep?”

“Yeah, let’s sleep.”

You find that Steve’s embrace feels familiar now, letting his arms come around you and pull you close. You think that his lips on your forehead in a goodnight kiss is something you might need every night.

You also think you’ll have a slight panic about all of this tomorrow. But, for now, you let yourself fall asleep, safe and satisfied.

-

When you wake up, Steve’s already outside, and you can hear the chatter of your other friends, too. You figure it’s later in the morning, that Steve let you sleep in.

You can't believe what happened the night before, half convinced it was a dream until you notice that you’re still naked. You don’t regret it, you only wish it didn’t cause so much confusion in your head.

You really do want to be friends with him, though, now you’re not sure if that’ll be enough. If you might want more than that.

Once you get up and ready, and the day begins, you keep your distance from him. He seems to be doing the same. It’s not that you’re upset with him, it’s just that you’re scared of how much has changed in so little time and you need to process it, to let yourself solve the puzzle in your mind.

The only thing Steve had said to you that morning was while passing you a plate of breakfast he seemed to have saved for you. “We’ll talk later?”

You nodded and that was it.

It’s the afternoon when the group of you head towards one of the hiking trails, water bottles and granola bars packed in your bags. You all smell like sunscreen, thanks to Nancy going mom mode on you all.

The sun beats down on your shoulders as you walk, only quick moments of shade provided by the trees that you pass. You know that by the end of it you’ll all be sweaty and sticky, but it’s a nice trail, with a view of the lake peeking through the trees.

Argyle stops to look at every plant he deems ‘peculiar’ including mushrooms, he forces Jonathan to look at them, too. Eddie is humming a guitar solo the entire way, he says it’s the soundtrack to your adventure. Robin picks flowers along the way, putting one in everyone’s hair—two in Nancy’s.

As for you and Steve, you hang back a couple of steps behind the group, walking alongside each other. You don’t talk, settling for a comfortable silence. A mutual understanding that there is something to discuss, just not right now.

Every so often, your hands will brush, and you’ll glance at each other shyly before looking away again.

You’re about halfway through the trail when a tree root gets in your way. You happened to be looking away at the moment, Steve laughing at Robin’s joke caught your attention. You trip over it, your ankle rolling painfully as you fall with a small yelp.

Steve notices first, and he crouches down next to you. “Shit. Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah, fine,” you try to brush it off, even with tears gathering in your eyes.

Everyone else comes to see if you’re alright, too, and you hate all of the attention. You know they mean well, but it’s embarrassing.

“Can you stand?” Robin asks.

Steve holds out his hands to help you up, and he catches you when the pressure on your ankle is too much and you almost fall again.

“Guess that’s a no,” Argyle says. Jonathan gives him a light slap for it.

“I’m fine, guys,” you urge, though you’re clinging to Steve to help you stay up. “Just give me a minute and we can keep going.”

“Absolutely not,” Steve says firmly. “We gotta take care of that ankle, babe.”

Just as you’re about to protest, Nancy cuts in, “he’s right, it’s kinda swollen.”

“There’s a first aid kit in the van,” Eddie adds.

You’re frustrated that you’ve ruined the walk for everyone, and you cover your eyes with the hand that isn’t holding onto Steve to hide the fact that you are now crying. You’re in pain and humiliated and there are too many eyes on you.

Steve can tell, so he says, “you guys keep going, I’ll go back with her.”

They agree, and Robin gives Steve a look that tells him she knows exactly how he feels even though he’s not one hundred percent certain. When he hears you sniffle, his attention doesn’t stray anymore.

“I’m sorry,” you say between your crying.

“None of that. Was getting bored anyway.”

You try your best to gather yourself, wiping at your cheeks and eyes roughly. Steve pulls your hand away and does it for you, he’s much more gentle. The two of you stay put until you’ve stopped crying, and Steve doesn’t let go of you through any of it.

“I’m gonna carry you, okay?”

“No, I can walk, Steve. I swear.”

“Shut up and get on my back,” he leans down enough so you can hop on, in position for a piggy back. Your arms hold onto his shoulders, trying not to choke him, and your legs are around his waist. He holds you by the thighs and begins the descent very carefully.

His hands on you feel all too familiar now. You know what they do in intimacy, how they move and squeeze at your skin, your thighs. Almost like he’s doing now, though the situation and intent is much different.

Again, the walk is spent in silence apart from the sounds of your breathing and Steve’s footsteps.

Once you’ve made it back, he sets you down so you can sit on one of the log benches by the fire pit, and he goes off to Eddie’s van with a promise to be back soon.

You discover that he’s good at keeping promises, as he’s back before you really noticed his absence. You think he might have ran there and back and that thought has your heart skipping a beat in your chest. He’s good at taking care of people, you think. The way he knew how to calm you down, how he offered to carry you, and how he takes your injured leg in his hands so carefully you almost melt. He tugs your shoe and sock off, apologizing when you say a small ‘ouch.’

“There should be a tensor bandage in here somewhere. I’ll wrap you up real good, I swear.”

“I trust you, Steve.”

He thinks those words hold a lot more weight and meaning than just wrapping your ankle, and he files it away in his mind to think about in the future. He can tell you don’t trust a whole lot of people, and he feels special that you do him. His lips curve into a soft smile.

He kneels on the ground in front of you, first aid kit open at his side and your foot propped on his knee. He wraps it slowly, fully focused on making sure he does it right because he doesn’t like the thought of you hurting. He hates it, actually.

He knows things have changed drastically since you’ve been here, and he knows they won’t ever be the same. He only hopes that the outcome is good.

You watch as he works, eyes focused on the way his hands move and hold you so softly. With nobody else around, you allow yourself to relax around him, to let your eyes linger.

When he finishes, he presses a small kiss to your ankle over the bandage. If kisses had healing powers, you think you’d be all better after that.

You don’t know how or why your feelings for him seem to have shifted so much, all you know is that any trace of hatred you had towards him has disappeared, wiped away to make room for something else. Something fonder that could be described using four letters and might have been around much longer than you thought.

“Thank you,” you say as he sets your leg down and moves to sit next to you.

“No problem, babe,” he pauses before continuing. “Do you want me to take you home today? I bet Eddie would let me take the van.”

“No!” It comes out more panicked than you wanted it to, but you really didn’t want to go home. You’d be happy staying at that campsite forever, because you hadn’t thought of your parents since you left until now. “I mean. No, I'd rather stay. Thanks though.”

Steve knows something’s wrong, that your relationship with your family may not be the best. He’s suspected it ever since your reaction to his comment about you always hanging around Family Video. He wants you to know he can relate.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

You shrug, “not much to say, really. Just don’t like being home.”

“You can stay with me, you know… If you ever need to. My parents aren’t really around anyways.”

You lean your head on his shoulder, giving him some silent support. “Thank you. You’re kind of a great guy, Steve.”

“Only kind of?”

He turns his head towards yours, and you do the same. You’re close enough that you could lean forward ever so slightly and you’d be kissing. You think about it, he does too.

Steve breaks the moment first, though. He wants to kiss you, he really does, but he doesn’t want it to be in this grey area the two of you are stuck in. He wants it to be real, and to know exactly what it’ll mean.

“Why don’t I find you some ice for that ankle, huh?”

He squeezes your knee and stands, not waiting for a reply.

-

The rest of the day passed quickly, the group coming back from their hike and showing you polaroids they took of the view for you, Steve fussing over you every time you went to walk on your own.

Before you knew it, it was time to head to bed. Steve helped you walk over to your tent despite your insistence that you could do it yourself, “I’m going there anyways,” he said.

You simply huffed and let him curl an arm around your waist to give you some support. Maybe to have an excuse to touch you, too.

Steve left while you got ready for bed, even though he’d seen it all before. He still didn’t know where you stood and wanted to be mindful of that. As he walked back to the tent after a few minutes, he geared himself up to start some sort of conversation with you. The intent melted away when he saw you, though.

You weren’t usually a crier, but as you tried to get comfortable, you bumped your ankle against something and pain shot up your leg, sharp and sudden. You were sitting up when he came in, knees bent and your face buried in them, and your hands clutching above the bandage.

The tears fell before you could stop them, the frustration you felt and the flare up in your injury bubbling and spilling over. You heard the zipper of the tent’s entrance slip open, and you knew it was Steve, but you didn’t really want to look at him.

You hated crying, it made you feel embarrassed, and the softness in his brown eyes would only make you cry harder because you never had anyone care that much about you being upset.

“Hey,” he starts, sitting next to you. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“Hurts,” is all you manage to get out.

One of his hands rubs up and down your back soothingly, the warmth seeping through your shirt. His other hand reaches to where yours are holding your leg, prying them away gently and grasping it himself.

You lift your head to look at him, shy under all of his attention.

“You tired?” He asks.

You nod, and he urges you to lay down, so you do. He wipes away your tears for you yet again once you’re settled on your pillow. He reaches for his pillow, lifting your leg and placing it under your ankle to keep it elevated.

“Steve, you need that. What’re you gonna sleep on?”

“Got some sweats I’ll bunch up, don’t you worry. You need that more than I do, ‘kay?”

“You’re really sweet.” You say quietly, already much more comfortable than before. You don’t know if it’s the pillow he’s placed under your foot or if it’s simply Steve’s presence that makes you feel that way.

He does as he said, digging for his sweats and balling them up to use as a pillow but you stop him by saying, “you can just share mine.”

You scooch over until half of your pillow is empty, leaving room for Steve to lay down next to you. He’s careful as he does, watching where he puts his legs so that he won’t bump your ankle. He lays on his side facing you, wondering whether it would be okay to reach out and hold you.

He does it anyways, figuring you’d tell him to get off if you didn’t want him to. His arm slips out of his sleeping bag to hold your waist. You turn yourself towards him as much as you can while keeping your foot in a good position.

You find yourself getting sleepy a lot faster with him near, and it’s odd. Less than a week ago you were convinced you hated the boy and now… Well now you felt something far from hatred.

You never thought you’d even become friends with Steve, let alone whatever the relationship between you is now.

“Thanks for taking care of me today, Steve.”

His hand pulls you a little closer, “no worries. You’re a great patient.”

You breathe out, a hint of a laugh that would be there if your eyes weren’t so heavy.

“Do you think this is weird?” You ask. You’re not specific but he knows you’re referring to you and him and the lack of arguments.

“It’s different, but I’m happy. That we can actually talk now, that you don’t hate me.”

“Me too. Cuddling is also nice.”

Neither of you bring up the kissing, or the sex, but the thought of it lingers. It hovers over the two of you constantly, waiting to be brought up.

You fall asleep soon after, barely noticing the pain in your ankle anymore.

-

The next day was your last full one of the camping trip. So, naturally, everyone was together for it all. There wasn’t room for a conversation with Steve about the serious stuff which you didn’t mind all that much.

You were nervous to know what he thought. Did he even want you, or was it just a heat of the moment thing? Does he only want to be friends, or did he feel more than that?

You’d rather float in the unknown rather than hear that he didn’t like you the same way. Because this was new to you. You never had a boyfriend, never wanted one, either. And then Steve Harrington just had to make you feel so much for him. Things you didn’t know how to deal with for so long that your instinct was to act like you hated him. To convince yourself you did.

You weren’t ready to go home, to go back to reality. You were scared that you and Steve would revert back to how it was before, the dirty looks and the comments and the mask of dislike. You didn’t even want to think about going back to your house or your lousy job.

Though you didn’t have time for any serious chats, Steve would find ways to check in on you, to ask if your ankle was bothering you at all. He even rewrapped it for you when he noticed you struggling with it.

As day turned to night, the sun swallowed by the horizon, you all spent time packing up the site so it would be quicker to leave in the morning. Everything apart from the tents and what you needed to sleep was cleaned up and packed into Jonathan’s car.

Once more, the most talking you and Steve did was before bed, in the bubble of your tent.

He shared your pillow like the night before, held you the same way, too. He couldn’t stay away from you no matter how hard he tried. Steve found himself making excuses to come up to you during the day, asking if you needed help even though he knew you didn’t, checking on your ankle even if he had already done it ten minutes ago.

“What do you think is gonna happen when we go home?” You ask.

“You mean with us?” He checks, and when you nod, he takes a moment to think before continuing. “I want to be your friend, I meant that. I also think that there might be more? Maybe. I just don’t want to rush things with you,” he says the last part quieter than the rest.

“I do, too. Think there could be more. I’m scared, though.”

He reaches a hand to hold your cheek, his thumb brushing back and forth.

“I know that a lot has happened in the last couple of days, but I think we could be something. Don’t you want to give it a try?” He asks you, his face close enough to yours that you can feel his breath on your lips.

“Yeah, I do.”

You know that you’ve barely scratched the surface of what you really feel. You’re ninety nine percent sure that you love him and you know he deserves to know that. You’re just not ready to say it, and you want to give yourself time to see what things will be like back in Hawkins before you do.

He nudges his nose against yours in response, waiting to see if you’ll pull away before leaning in to kiss you. It’s slow, languid and you know it won’t lead to anything more but you cherish it all the same.

You try to pour what you can't say into it.

Steve couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He’d been wanting to kiss you ever since the last time and it was as if the rubber band of his reserve snapped when you said you wanted to try with him. Deep down, he’s a romantic and he wants to show you that side of him.

He figures kissing you the way a lover would is a good start.

-

The next morning was a whirlwind of packing what was left, making sure nothing was forgotten, and taking the tents down. It was a lot of yells back and forth and stuffing cars as full as you could.

The energy was down, everyone slightly bummed to be heading back to reality. You were especially bummed about going home. You never realize how much you hate it until you’re gone. You also worried about what would happen with Steve, how things would play out.

On the drive home, everyone sat in the same spots. Though, this time, Nancy and Robin stayed a lot closer, hands intertwined and smiles a bit brighter. It seems you and Steve aren’t the only ones who felt a shift while you were away. Maybe there really was something in the air, something that wasn’t as heavy as things felt in Hawkins.

You ended up falling asleep again during the drive, the crack of the music through the van’s speakers making your eyes heavy. You’re lucky nobody let Eddie play his music or else you surely wouldn’t get a nap in.

You’re the first one to get dropped off and Steve can’t help but worry. From the very small amount of information he’s gathered about you and your family, he knows you don’t like being around them. He wishes he could shield you from it all, how odd is that?

He’s pretty damn sure he loves you, actually.

That’s why when Eddie pulls into your driveway he offers to wake you up and help you grab your things. It’s why he’s gentle when he does so, getting out of the car and opening your door.

“Hey, babe,” he shakes your shoulders gently. “Wake up.”

You do; you’re a light sleeper. You rub your eyes tiredly and when you blink them open the first thing you see is Steve. It’s a nice sight to wake up to.

“Mmm, hi.” You say, stretching your arms.

“Hey, we’re at your place,” he tells you.

“Okay.”

You climb out of the car, thanking Eddie for driving and saying bye to Robin and Nancy. Steve grabs your bags for you and walks you to the porch. He goes to help you inside but you stop him.

“It’s alright, Steve. I’ve got it,” you take your bags from him. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” he’s quiet for a moment, glancing at your door before adding, “you’ll be okay? I meant it when I said you could stay with me, you know?”

“I’ll be fine. Promise.”

You smile at him shyly, not quite sure whether you should hug him or just go inside. You wait to see what he does, but he has his hands in his pockets, rocking on his feet.

“Okay, I’ll head inside. Bye, Steve.”

“Bye, babe,” his hand brushes your arm as you go inside.

Back in the van, everyone looks at Steve like he’s an idiot. And, well, maybe he is only this time he doesn’t understand why. He looks out the window for the rest of the drive.

He knows your parting was awkward, but he didn’t want to scare you off by kissing you or doing something in front of the others when you had only become friendly a few days ago. He wasn’t used to having things move so fast, or to having them feel so strong, so vivid.

When he gets home, the house is empty. He can’t help but feel like it’d be much brighter with you in it.

-

You’d been back for a week and nothing major really happened between you and Steve. You weren’t sure if the conversation was forgotten, if it didn’t actually mean anything. All you knew was that you definitely loved him and it was scary.

You didn’t let yourself feel things like it so often, and it was hard for you to admit it, but you were in love with Steve. It’s why it made it almost harder to be around him than it was when you thought you hated him. You didn’t know how to act, what to say.

When you weren’t working, you still visited Family Video, though now when you and Steve would tease each other it would end in smiles and laughs, not someone storming off.

Things were sort of awkward, too. Neither of you knew if you should touch, or kiss. Neither of you wanted to be the one to ask, either. You were constantly tip-toeing around each other, never fully diving in even though you wanted to.

He called you somethings, too. Late at night when your parents would be asleep. You’d always pick up right away, ‘cause you waited for his calls, sitting in your bed with a hand next to the phone just in case. He’d always ask you how you were doing, remind you that you were welcome at his place. He once said he missed sharing a tent with you, that he wanted to see if sharing a bed would be the same.

It’s the boldest statement either of you had made since your return.

Despite the actions not being there, the feelings never left. Steve would stare at you when you visited him and Robin at work, distracted from tasks and practically hypnotized. Where he used to watch you with red hot anger, it’s turned into a rose coloured haze. A pair of heart sunglasses.

It’s not until you finally take up his offer that you’re alone with him.

Your parents were being their usual selves, only somehow it was worse, more amplified. You couldn’t stay in that house anymore, so you packed a backpack, snuck out your window, and walked all the way to Steve’s house. It wasn’t too bad of a walk. It gave you time to clear your head.

Steve was actually about to call you when he heard a knock on his door. He wasn’t expecting anyone, and he couldn’t stop himself from hoping it was you. Then, he opened the door and there you were, looking pretty as ever with a backpack on your shoulders and an apology in your eyes.

Before you could even say anything, he ushered you inside.

“Hi, babe,” he grabbed your backpack. “You okay?”

There was a softness in those brown eyes that warmed you from the inside out, that made you feel like everything would be okay as long as he was around. God, love makes you so gooey inside it was gross.

“Yeah, well, not really. Can I stay here?”

“‘Course you can. Anytime.” He holds a hand out for you to take, and when you do, he squeezes your fingers.

He holds it all the way up the stairs to his room, setting your bag down at the foot of his bed and sitting on the edge of his mattress. He pats the space next to him for you to join.

“Thanks, Stevie.”

Stevie. He’s only ever had people call him that teasingly. Mostly in high school and he didn’t like it then. He much prefers it coming out of your mouth.

“Don’t need to thank me,” he says, reaching to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m happy to have you here. I, um, I’ve missed you.”

He’s had a hard time opening up to people romantically since what happened between him and Nancy. He’s not sure how, but you make it easier. You make him feel like it’s okay to be more open, to let the walls around his heart crumble.

“I missed you, too,” you say.

“C’mere,” he moves up to sit with his back against his headboard, and pulls you into his lap, your legs on either side of his. It’s not in a dirty way, not at all. Rather, it’s for the comfort that can only be provided when having someone you love is that close to you.

He winds his arms around your waist and pulls you in for a hug, yours going around his shoulders, face turned into his neck. You indulge yourself in his smell and his arms and his warmth. You push a small peck into the skin just below his ear before pulling back enough to see his face.

“I needed that, I think,” you say.

“I really fucking like you,” he says, his head tilting back to rest against the headboard with a thump.

It’s like he couldn’t stop the words from coming out anymore. He’s been thinking it for too long without being able to say anything, and he’s done waiting, he thinks. He knows he loves you and as terrified as he is, he won’t let that feeling go ever again.

“Really?” You ask.

“Yeah, really,” he smiles at you, shutting his eyes for a second before looking at you again. “Listen, I know things have changed crazy fast, and I know that we’ve really only just started to get along but, I love you. I have for a long time, I think.”

The butterflies in your stomach are set free, a smile breaking out on your face because this is what you’ve been waiting for since the trip that changed everything.

“I love you too, Stevie,” you say, pushing the hair off his forehead as if it’s a reflex; without thought. “I think I just convinced myself I hated you ‘cause I was scared.”

“Gave is an interesting story, don’t you think?”

“Mhm,” you hum.

He leans in to kiss you then, tender and smooth the way that only couples do. Full of love and emotion, your bottom lip between his. It’s the fluff and sweetness of the best kind of pink cotton candy. It melts on your tongue.

Steve pulls back when your smiles break the kiss, leaning his forehead against yours.

“I think this could really last. You and me,” he tells you. He says it quietly, like it’s a secret for your ears only. A confession; he’s thought about this, the future.

“You do?”

“I mean we already had our first fight like forever ago. And our second, and our third, and our fourth, and-”

You cut him off putting your hand over his mouth, “okay! I get it,”

You can feel him smiling against your palm.

༄

if you enjoyed please reblog, it would mean a lot!

[erynaster]

I Don't Hate You

Summary: You and Wednesday attempt to patch things up after an argument. In a brief moment of transparency, feelings are brought into the open.

Word Count: 1,706

Warnings: Arguing

Pairing(s): Wednesday Addams x Male!Reader

A/N: Felt like having Wednesday display a more... soft side in this one. I hope you all enjoy!

"Wednesday's looking for you."

You look up from your evening porridge, where Enid hovers over you anxiously waiting for your response.

"Sorry?" You ask.

Enid takes a deep breath, exhaling nervously through her nose as she repeats her statement.

"Wednesday's looking for you." She repeats, eyeing you with a look of fright. "She... told me to tell you—well, if I saw you—that she wishes to speak with you. Alone."

You're genuinely puzzled.

"You're... sure? She actually said that?" You nearly chuckle in disbelief. Your girlfriend wasn't exactly the epitome of healthy communication.

"She did." Enid continues to look at you with a look that someone would give a person lying on their deathbed. "I've never seen her look more serious than how she was while ago. It seemed... important."

You take a moment to ponder her words. Wednesday would never ask to speak with you alone, unless it was something really grave or morbid that she had to have someone to share it with.

Or, maybe...

You can feel your heart dropping right to the pit of your stomach.

... Maybe she felt that things weren't working out between you two.

You sigh. Better to get it over with.

"Thanks, Enid. I'll go look for her now."

You stand up from your seat, grabbing your backpack from a nearby bench as you do. Before you can get far, however, Enid calls out your name.

"Y/N?"

You turn, facing a rather troubled-looking Enid. "Yeah?"

"What happened between you two?" She asks in hushed tones.

You sigh once more.

"We just had a little... misunderstanding, that's all." This, of course, was an understatement. You and Wednesday just had one of your worst fights in weeks. "I'll be fine, Enid."

This seems to terrify her even more.

"O-okay... just be careful, alright?"

"I will, thanks."

____________

Wednesday Addams stands by the edge of the balcony; feeling the cold, crisp air as it washes over her features. She's deep in thought, her mind replaying the exact same moment that's been on her mind since this morning.

"If you aren't going to be of any use to me, then I expect you to leave."

A curious feeling wells up within her. Guilt? She hardly knew the feeling. In all her years pushing down such trivial emotions, nothing quite made her insides squirm uncomfortably as the memory of your conversation did now.

In retrospect, perhaps she had been a bit too... harsh.

She sighs. Her words were only now coming back to haunt her.

"So that's all I am to you, huh? Some tool?" You had replied, clearly hurt.

"I did not say that. Do not make assumptions." She had chastised you, giving you a cold stare.

"Well what am I supposed to think, Wends? I can't be guessing all the time." You stated, shaking your head. "Sometimes, I wonder if you even do care."

"So you assume that I don't?" She had replied blandly.

"Well, you sure have a funny way of showing it." You huffed, turning towards the door.

There's silence.

"... Do you love me, Wednesday?" You had asked tentatively, doubt creeping in.

Wednesday's gaze had grown colder.

"Clearly, if you doubt me so much, then there is no point to this conversation." She turned, facing stubbornly away from you. "You may leave. Now."

The silence had been deafening.

"So you don't, then?" You had choked, tears forming in your eyes.

And at that precise moment, Wednesday's insides had squirmed with an incomprehensible desire, one that told her to express how she truly felt for you. However, she swallowed that primal urge as pride took over.

"Do not make me answer that question right now, Y/N. Please. Leave me be." Her tone was as cold as ice, which you took as your cue to leave that room at that very moment.

And that was that.

As the memory of your conversation draws to a close, Wednesday sighs. A sad, drawn-out sigh that was so unlike her.

She detested what you do to her. How you affected her this way. How you made her feel. Feelings were a trivial matter, she had decided from a young age.

But you?

You made her feel things that frustrated her, things that made her head spin and her heart pound. It was maddening.

She despised it. No, loathed it. She hated it so much that, during that one fateful day by the lake, she had accepted your advances of affection. She hated it so much that she had spent precious amounts of her time with you, talking and talking until she had realized that hours had gone by since you had started. Hours that she could've spent working on her novel.

She hated every bit of it.

She hated the way her heart hammered in her throat as she leaned in that night, just as you had done the same. The feeling of your lips tracing over hers...

She hated how it felt so right. So good.

Wednesday shivers.

But now? There was none of that. You hadn't talked all day, let alone spent any time together since your argument that morning. Wednesday hated how it felt, but not in the good kind of way.

For once, though she would never admit it...

She misses you.

What she wouldn't give to be able to stab herself at that very moment. The mere idea of "missing someone" was entirely foreign to her.

Until you.

A choking feeling wells up in her throat, one that she desperately tries to shove down. She would've succeeded, too, if it wasn't for the sound of a door opening up behind her.

"... Wednesday?"

She turns. There you stand, framed in the doorway, looking as though you're expecting the worst.

"I got your message from Enid. You wanted to talk?" You inquire timidly.

She nods, gesturing to the spot next to her.

You approach her cautiously, taking your place next to her by the balcony as the two of you gaze off into the distance.

The silence drags on for a good two minutes before Wednesday breaks the silence.

"I owe you an apology." She says simply.

You gaze at her in awe.

"It's okay." You blurt out, taken aback by her forwardness.

"No, it isn't." She shakes her head. She turns her cold gaze on you, and from what you can tell, this is taking a great deal of effort on her part just to be able to express herself this much. "Y/N, what I did was wrong. Rather, it's what I didn't do. You were a loving partner from the very beginning, and I failed to appreciate that."

You raise your eyebrows in surprise. This didn't sound like her at all.

"Wednesday, are you feeling okay...?"

She chooses to ignore this.

"Y/N..." She takes a deep breath, as though resigning herself to the worst. "You... You matter to me."

She looks pained.

Part of you is wildly unsettled by her behavior, while the other half of you finds it hard not to chuckle at her attempts to be expressive.

"... And?" You tease, pushing your luck a little bit more.

Wednesday gives you a cold stare.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry." You laugh nervously. "It's just, why are you telling me these things now?"

Silence falls between you two.

"You need to know, Y/N, that despite the way I... act around you, I... I do not despise you. Far from it, actually."

You can feel your heart pounding in your chest. Would she finally be able to say it...?

"Yes, Wends? What is it?"

"Y/N..." She gulps, the first sign of nervousness finally setting in. "You should know that...that I..."

You can feel her resolve crumbling.

"That you what, Wednesday?" You press, taking her hand in yours.

She opens her mouth to speak, but no words come out. For a moment, she seems to teeter on the verge of saying, 'that I love you', but instead...

"I..." She averts her gaze, staring resolutely at the ground. "... I don't hate you, Y/N."

You can feel yourself deflate.

"Oh." It takes a moment for you to recover, but you pat her hand consolingly. You knew that she had done her best.

"Well... I don't hate you too, Wednesday." You smile encouragingly.

She glances up at you, gazing at you with a mysterious look in her eyes. To your surprise, she begins to edge closer to you, her gaze never once faltering nor breaking.

"Wednesday, what are you doing?" You chuckle nervously.

No reply. She continues to lean in ever closer, without ever flinching or averting her stare. Her dark, abyssal eyes gaze deep into yours as the distance between your faces grows smaller and smaller by the second, and by now her face is a mere two inches away from your own.

You're suddenly aware of what was happening.

"W-Wait—" You whisper, but to no avail.

You never get to finish your sentence as her lips gently press against yours.

It feels so good.

And so... right.

The way her lips pucker up and part to welcome your own just feels... intoxicating. Surreal. But before you can even register the kiss more fully in your mind, she pulls away, giving you another one of her cold, sharp-edged stares.

"Tell anyone of what just happened, Y/N L/N, and I swear I will skin you alive."

You chuckle nervously.

"I swear, I won't. You have my word."

Without thinking, you throw both arms around your goth girlfriend. To your immense surprise and relief, she doesn't recoil or pull away from your touch. Instead, she does something that surprises you more than anything that had happened so far that evening.

She hugs you back.

Wednesday slips both arms around you, holding you close as you caress each other underneath the light of the full moon. A cool breeze blows through, causing Wednesday to shiver slightly in the evening air.

"I don't hate you, Y/N." She repeats for the second time that evening, her voice muffled as she buries her face in the crook of your neck.

You smile, giving her a gentle squeeze.

"I love you too, Wednesday."

Maybe things would work out between you two.

[mythica0]

I have the silliest idea holy shit omg

This involved a but of soft Jax AND lee!jax WHAT A COMBO‼️‼️

So like I have this hc that jax is deathly afraid of super duper loud bangs like fireworks and thunderstorms, there's fireworks or a thunderstorm outside of the circus and jax is hiding wanting it to go away, then someone comes in (character of ur choice but this would fit ragatha) and tickles him to make him feel better and to distract him from the storm

Also hi how are you I hope you're doing well💖💖💖

- X3 anon

Soft side

🎂: TADC

🧁: Jax

🍫:Caine

Summary: during a digital thunderstorm(however that works), none of the circus members have seen Jax leave his room. Caine goes to check on him and sees something… unexpected.

A/N: Thank you anon! This is so cute and I had to write it. Love me some cheer-up tkls. Enjoy! <3

Soft side

BOOM! CRACK! A digital thunderstorm raged outside. Dark clouds covered the sky and flashes of lightning appeared followed by loud rumbles of thunder.

The cast was sitting in the tent to stay out of the rain, but…

“Guys, is it just me or is it quiet?” Ragatha whispered, suspiciously.

Zooble rolled her eyes. “Yeah, it’s because Jax isn’t here. I don’t know why exactly, but I’ll take the lack of Tom-[BEEP]-ery.

Pomni raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “Huh. I wonder why he’s hiding in his room. Maybe he’s planning a scheme…” the conversation trailed off and the group continued to chat amongst themselves.

On the other side of the tent, Caine heard this conversation. Had Jax really not shown up today? That was unusual for the Rabbit, if only because he liked to, as he put it, “watch funny things happen to people.”

Caine thought he better go check on the bunny before starting todays adventure. As cooky as he was, Caine did actually care about his circus members and wanted to see them happy in the digital plane. And for some reason he was concerned about Jax.

He floated down the hallway and knocked on Jax’s door. “Jax? Do I have permission to enter?”

No response came out of the room, other than a soft whimpering sound. Another BOOM rang out from the thunder, and Caine heard a startled “Ah!” And a slight whine coming from inside the room.

Worried something might have happened, Caine teleported inside the room, concerned. “Jax!”

At the voice, Jax looked up. He wasn’t hurt at all, which relieved Caine… but- something was off.

He was holding his long ears flat against his head, and small tear tracks rolled down his digital face.

“Wha- what are you doing here, dentures?” Jax tried to put on a brave face, but his voice waivered and broke. Once again thunder roared and Jax made a noise of fear, jumped a bit and held his ears even closer to his head.

Caine’s eyes gained an understanding and he sat next to the rabbit.

“You don’t like thunderstorms, huh?”

“What’s it matter to yo-u.” Jax sniffed.

“Well, I don’t like seeing my cast scared, Jax.”

“I’m not scared!” Jax lashed out, offended at the prospect. “I’m fine!”

“Hmm…” Caine thought of a way he could cheer up the bunny, without making him more angry, and he had the perfect idea.

As subtly as he could, Caine reached his hand over and gently poked Jax’s side.

A squeak came out of the rabbit and he turned to look at the ringmaster. “What-What was that about?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.

“Bull[BEEP].”

Caine’s smile grew mischievously. “You know how I feel about swearing mister!” Caine started to quickly scribble Jax’s stomach, making silly noises as he did so.

Slowly Jax regained his usual toothy smile, giggles slipping out of his throat.

“Cahahahaine! Cohohme ohohon! Whyhyhy?!”

“Not so scared anymore, aren’t ya? Tkltkltkl!”

“Oh shuhuhut ihihit!”

“Ooo~ you’re gonna get it, now!” Caine stopped for a moment and pulled his cane from his hat. He waved it like a wand, and a small pink light emerged from it, engulfing Jax in its glittery light.

Immediately Jax’s laughter intensified.

“Whahahahat eveheEHEN IHIHIS THIHIHIS!”

“Introducing my TICKLE RAY 9000! Guaranteed to make even the most grumpy of people laugh really hard!” He spoke in an advertising voice.

“OHOHO MYHYHY GOHOHOD, YohohOU AHare RIDIHICulohohous!”

“Thank you!” Caine winked.

“QUHUHIHIT IHIHIT!”

“Hmm.. if you admit you were scared. It’s okay to be scared! Everyone has fears, even tough little rabbits like you.”

“OHO COHOHOME OHON! Thahats soho MeHEAN!”

Jax started to have tears of joy prick in his yellow eyes from all the laughing. He would never admit it, ever, but this was helping.

“C’mon Jax! You can do it! Tktktktktktktktk!”

“PLeheheHEASe!”

“You know what you have to say!”

“OhoKAHAY fihiHINE! I wahahahas scahahared! Ihim scahahahred ohof thuhunder Stohohorms ahahare yohOU hahahappy NOHOw!”

“Yes. Very. Almost as much as you right now.” Caine teased, turning off his magical little tickle beam.

“You ready to go start todays adventure!”

“Yeheah, yeah just give me a sec.” Jax said, tiredly.

I guess both Caine and Jax had an unexpected soft side.

[doki-doki-imagines]

Hi I was hoping you could write something for a first date with Gintoki but the reader is wearing a kimono he bought them as a birthday gift prior to the date so he’s like losing his mind And then ending it with a kiss!!

Gintoki is stuck on his place, his hands that were already sweating due the high temperature got even worse when his red eyes met yours.

You are stunning. And a bit crazy to wear a kimono with all those layers during summer. But the knot in his throat simply doesn't untangle, not when his mind finally comprehends that you are wearing the kimono he gifted you for your birthday.

Gintoki clearly remembers the price tag and how much he begged the seller for just a tiny sale on it that got firmly denied.

He couldn't eat a parfait for so long, but he could tell now it was totally worth it.

"Do I look good, Gintoki?" You bat your cute lashes at him, and the soft undertone in your voice makes his old man knee buckles a bit. He nods, lips firmly closed into a thin line.

"Let's go for a walk then?" He nods again, taking your much softer hand in his one, pulling you toward the festival.

Thankfully, you do much of the talking, pointing cute stuff from the various stalls and buying him a caramelized apple.

"I swear I'm buying it for myself!" You replied when he reprimanted you for trying to buy him a sweet treat.

It's a lie. You are clearly buying it for him. Gintoki knows your heart is bigger than your rib cage.

"Look, the fireworks are starting!" You are now sitting on a bench when your forefinger points at the sky, where a red spark lightens the sky.

But he isn't that interested at it, red eyes fixed on your face, where a crumble of sugar is stuck on your red lips due the colourant in it. Your liquid irises reflect the lights in the sky, skin so soft that Gintoki would gladly take a bite, his tongue licking his canines reflexively.

"This must be a dream" Gintoki thinks, because he doesn't remember a single good reason why he should be blessed with such a sight. He doesn't move when you finally look back at him. He stays put, cheek lying on his hand, eyes fixed on you even after getting caught staring.

"Kiss me" You mumble, and Gintoki sees the tip of your tongue between your open teeth, inviting him in.

"I would never princess." He sighs."A trash man like me doesn't deserve the honour." There is a teasing undertone in his voice, but Gintoki sees in your eyes that you understood that he is serious.

"It just means I'll do it myself." Gintoki doesn't even have the time to react, your sugary lips on his ones, and your tongue already pushing to probe his mouth.

"Ngh-ah" Gintoki groans when your nails scratch the back of himeansck, pulling his white baby curls.

"Oh- you are such a minx" Gintoki says, pulling away from the kiss, his rough hand keeping your head in place while the other is now tightly gripping the cotton of your kimono at waist level.

"So...is it a problem, Gin-chan?" His grin only gets wider at your words. You are cooing him into doing exactly what you want and to Gintoki chagrin it's working wonders. His thumb brushes your lower lips, where miraculously that piece of sugar is still stuck before bringing it to his mouth and sucking it. Your eyes never leave his hand, even gulping when his tongue slips out to taste the sugar.

"Taste good, wanna taste it?" The hand that previously held your head is now pointing at yours, still holding the half eaten caramelized apple.You nod, holding it now close to you. Your bashful behaviour makes a low laughter blossom in Gintoki throat, amused from the stark contrast of your past behaviour.

"C'mon, bite in it." He makes it lean closer to your lips, where you tentatively take a nip, eyes teary while looking at him, unsure of his next, forseeable in Gintoki's opinion, move.

"Good" He rasps out, finally throwing the sweet treat out of the way. His lips go back to yours, tongue already tasting the sugar on yours. The other hand caress lower, making you arch your back so you can be impossibly close to his chest, feeling you even under all those layers.

You both gasp into the kiss, the apple now falling to the ground, a useless device now. Hands holding each other close, disregarding the mumbles and looks of people passing by.

New lesson: never tease a sadist, they have no shame even during a first date.

[moni-logues]

Hi there, pretty Moni!

If it isn’t too much to ask, may I please request a professor Yoongi x female college student reader piece?

For the genre, hmmm. Surprise us, maybe? 🤭🥹

Thank you very much, eonni. ☺️

okkkkkkkkkkk

SO, I am not super comfortable with a professor/student dynamic so I have done a peer tutor type situation; hope that is ok! I really don't know if this is anything, tbh, but I'm really just trying to leave the tap on to get the rust out!! So thank you for this request; I hope it at least in some way satisfies!

Pairing: Yoongi x reader (gender neutral)

Genre: acquaintances-to-?? dating? maybe?? tbc lol; college/uni AU

Summary: Your university forces you to be tutored to bring up your grades; your tutor is the quiet loner from class whom you begin to realise you should have noticed long before now.

Word count: 1.2k

Content: none to warn for, unless you have traumatic memories of philosophy essays lmao

Kant or Won't?

You pushed through the heavy library door with a sigh. It was a beautiful day – one of the first of the year. The blossom was budding on the trees; the grass was dry enough to sit on; the sun was bright and warm overhead. You were heading into the dim, crowded world of studying on a Saturday.  

You only had yourself to blame. You knew that. One too many parties and too few essays written. You knew you had to try harder. What you didn’t know was why your school was mandating tutoring. It wasn’t that you didn’t know things! You didn’t struggle with the material; it was the sitting down and focusing on it that was the problem. How a tutor was supposed to help with that, you didn’t know. You did, however, want to stay at university so you accepted your fate.  

The peer tutor service had told you which private study room was booked for your session, but when you peered in through the door window, you assumed there must have been some sort of mistake.  

“Uh, it’s Yoongi, right?” you asked, tentatively as you entered the room.  

He looked up and nodded. 

You knew Yoongi. Well, you knew of him. He was in your philosophy group. He contributed only when forced to and you had never seen him chatting to anyone either before or after seminars. You assumed he was just some kind of loner loser guy and that was really the first and last you ever thought of him. You didn’t notice him and no one else seemed to either.  

It surprised you that he would volunteer to do this: meet with lazy, unfocused students to bring their grades up. It wasn’t exactly socialising, but it was social. It would involve talking to people. Strangers. Maybe even people he actively disliked. 

You sat around the corner of the table from him and pulled out your notebook, full of half-finished sentences and scribbled notes from lectures. The edges were black with doodles and your first clean page was the one right next to where you had snapped and written ‘FUUUUUUUUCK’ in huge capital letters. You tucked that page to the back and readied your pen. 

“Just so you know,” you started as Yoongi opened his textbook, “I’m not actually like, dumb. I’m fine with the material; I just hate doing the essays, y’know? I’m just too lazy to get around to it, so then, when it’s the night before deadline, I just have to write any old shit to get it done. You know how it is, right? Procrastination nation.” 

Yoongi looked at you, thoughtfully, and it was the first time you’d ever really seen his face. It was nice. He was kind of good-looking actually. You wondered what sort of life he had off-campus. Maybe he just didn’t like the people at school. Maybe he had other friends. A partner? Not that you cared, but you thought, now that you were really looking at him, maybe he could have one. Not bad at all. 

“Lazy?” he asked. 

You nodded, expecting him to say something more. He didn’t.  

“Ok, well...” You spoke for him. “I guess we’re supposed to get my essay on Kant done?” 

You flicked through your notes to see if you’d taken any while Yoongi still just looked at you.  

“What are you views on Kant?” you asked.  

“What are your views on Kant?” he countered.  

You wondered if it was a test. You’d told him you knew the material; it was only reasonable for him to ask for proof.  

The directness of his gaze made you feel a little flustered; the focus of his attention unwavering in a way you found unsettling.  

“Um, well, ok...” 

* * * 

“Guess what I’ve just done,” you demanded as you walked into the private study room two weeks later. 

“What?” 

“I’ve just submitted my Kant thing!” 

Yoongi didn’t look surprised, but he did look pleased. You felt a genuine sense of pride, swiftly followed by an embarrassed guilt that you should feel so proud of something that thousands of other people did with ease every day.  

“Wow,” he said. “And the deadline isn’t for three whole days.” 

“I know!” 

“How do you feel?”  

You didn’t want to tell him how pleased with yourself you were. You knew he had submitted his last week. You didn’t want to let him know that you were pathetic enough to feel a genuine sense of achievement over what you’d done. It was minor. Embarrassingly minor.  

“Good, I guess. Nice to have it out of the way.” 

Yoongi nodded.  

“That’s really great.” 

He smiled at you and you smiled back. If you got a good grade for this essay, you wouldn’t have to come back for tutoring. That alone had almost made you not complete the essay. Yoongi’s presence was soothing and something about being here in this room with him made it easier to focus. You liked studying with him. He mostly kept to himself and let you ask questions when you needed to. It didn’t really feel like tutoring at all, to be honest. He was a study buddy, not a teacher.  

You were surprised how much you enjoyed it, actually, when it really got down to it. Without the screaming panic of a deadline just hours away, you had more time to focus on the content, think about the topic, read about it, dig in. You remembered why you had chosen philosophy in the first place. And, when prompted, Yoongi would talk to you about it, too; your views were often the same, but not always. He was smarter than you, but not by much. 

You met frequently, first in short bursts, then in longer and longer sessions that you often found yourself wishing would last longer. Yoongi was good at sticking to the topic, pulling you back around when your conversation veered into general chat or something irrelevant, which you did more and more each time, because he was nice to talk to, he was interesting; you wanted to know what he thought and what he had to say.  

You also still didn’t know if he had a partner. 

*  

“Aha!”  

You cornered Yoongi in the classroom before he could escape, thrusting your essay into his face. He took it from you and eyed the grade in the corner with a smirk. 

“Well done, you.”  

“Nailed it, mate!” 

“You did.” 

“This means you don’t have to tutor me anymore.” 

He laughed softly. 

“It’s not like I really ever did anything. You said so yourself: you know the material. You never really needed me.” 

Something about that made you feel sad. You had needed him. You would not have been able to do it without him, if all your past experiences were to be relied upon.  

“Well, actually...”  

You had been working up to this. It was the perfect opportunity so you had just been waiting, waiting for your grade, waiting for this open target. 

“I was kind of hoping you might have some time to talk over the next one with me... Not formally, as a tutor, but just... y’know... Like, as a classmate. Or friend.” 

Yoongi blinked rapidly, his mouth slightly open.  

“Uh, yeah. Yeah ok.” 

“Cool. I’ll, um, text you or something and we can set up a time?” 

He nodded. There was a tiny stretch of tension between you, held for just a moment, before he stood from his seat and you straightened up, readying to walk away.  

“I’ll see you... soon, I guess.” 

“Yeah, soon.” 

[preciouslittle-bhaalbabe]

"Star" A cute one shot fluffy fic of Astarion and Esme being sweet together <3

Astarion finally agrees to let Esme paint his portrait. He had no idea what to expect.

Esme was mixing paints on her palette in comfortable silence while Astarion sat patiently on his bedroll. "What pose would you like me to do?" "Just do whatever you feel comfortable with!" Esme says, her attention on making sure she's got the perfect shades of yellow. "Hm, I'd be much more comfortable in the nude" Astarion teases. He was wearing some old robes they found in abandoned house in the wilds. Not very luxurious, but it would do.

"Oh, hush you. Now is hardly the time for that type of talk. Portrait painting is very serious work!" "I'm sure it is darling." He stands and wraps his arms around her, landing a small peck on the top of her head. Then, he gets a stool and sits in front of her easel, waiting for her command. "Alright now, you can talk, but try not to squirm around too much". "Can do. So um, when did you start painting?" Astarion asks. "I..Don't know exactly. It feels like I always have". She places her paintbrush in a dark navy blue shade, and starts pressing light and quick strokes onto the canvas.

"Painting and music seem to be the only things I've been able to hold onto" Esme says, her mind clearly elsewhere. She looks over and studies Astarion for a moment. Taking in each of his features. "What made you change your mind about me painting your portrait?" Esme asks, taking out another wider brush and dipping it in white paint. "I'm not sure. I know you've described to me what I look like in great detail. But I want to know what you see when you look at me." "I will show you exactly how I see you then" Esme says with a smile. Some time passes. The quiet sounds of the night, some light rain pittering on the tent roof, and the soft strokes of Esmes paintbrush fill the empty space. A small moment of peace. Esme is completely engrossed in her work, looking over at him every so often. He loves watching her when she's like this. The usual concern and worry on her face softens as she focuses. Her lips parted slightly. He wants nothing more than to get up from his stool and kiss her. But she looks so entranced by her work, it would be a shame to interrupt her. "Alright! Just a little white over in this bit and...Done! Close your eyes for a moment". Astarion does as he's told. "Are you nervous?" "A little" "It's alright, I may have taken some artistic liberties. But this is how I see you".

The shuffling sound of Esme taking the canvas off the easel makes Astarions stomach drop. "Alright, open your eyes whenever you're ready". Astarion takes a breath, and opens his eyes to see Esme holding a painting of what looks to be a being made of pure light surrounded by a night sky. When he looks closer he can see all the features she told him about. His crimson eyes, his cheekbones, his white curls and dangerous smile. But everything is bright and warm. The figure is posed as if reaching up to the heavens. Wearing soft silken robes made from stars that dance along his pearlescent skin. The expression on his face is hopeful and joyous. Small stars surround him leaving a trail. He is glowing. A light in a dark expanse. "Your name means 'Little Star' does it not?" Esme asks. "It does, Esme this is, beautiful. I thought you'd be just making a portait of me as I am, but this is something else" "This is you, this is how I see you" "What are you calling this painting then?" "Ssussun elgg oloth, light slays darkness." "You are one of a kind my dear, do you know that?" Astarion says. His voice close to breaking. He has never felt seen in this way. He was expecting just a regular painting of him sitting in this dingy tent in low light. Nothing like this. He hasn't thought much of himself besides being a monster for so long. A dark creature of the night, groveling and hiding in the shadows. This painting alone made him feel like more. Radiant, hopeful. "I'm glad you like it then!" Esme smiles. "You're a wonderful muse". "That's quite the understatement my dear. I love it. I'm going to put it outside for everyone to see once the paint dries...Thank you." Astarion stands and walks over to Esme, grabs the painting from her hands, sets it back on the easel carefully and pulls her into a tight embrace. His angel. His home. His sweet little Selûnite. His light in an ever growing darkness.

[luvvictoria]

Pussy eater

( ♡ ) pairing : Soshiro Hoshina x fem!reader

( ♡ ) warning : f!reader, NOT PROOF READ , kinda cringe, sex , explicit content , kinda friends with benefits

( ♡ ) a/n ✏️ : I literally post when I remember that I have this app.

"Hey, [name], you got a second?" Soshiro Hoshina called out, his voice echoing through the corridor of the Defense Force's living quarters. You looked up from her book, curiosity piquing as you saw Soshiro leaning against your doorframe, his trademark grin playing at the corners of his mouth. "What's up, Soshiro?" you asked, setting your book aside.

"Well," he began, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him, "I've been thinking about our little 'swords and monsters' gig we've got going on here." You raised an eyebrow. "What about it?" Soshiro scratched his head, his eyes shifting to the side as he tried to find the right words. "You know, with all the serious stuff we deal with, I've been wondering if there's something we're missing. Something… I dunno, something more… intimate." You leaned back into your chair, your eyes narrowing slightly. "Intimate?"

"Yeah," he said, his cheeks flushing a bit. "Like, I know you're pretty smart and all, so I was hoping maybe you could, you know, teach me something." Your heart skipped a beat. This was definitely not the conversation you had been expecting. "What do you want to learn " Soshiro took a deep breath. "How to, uh, you know, eat a girl out. I want to be good at it." You felt a blush creep up your neck. "Soshiro, that's…"

"Come on, [nickname] ," he said, using the nickname only a few people knew about. "You know I'm not asking for just anyone. I trust you, and I know you're cool with this kind of stuff."

Your mind raced, trying to decide if you should take this seriously or not. But something in his earnest tone made you realize he truly wanted to know. Plus, you had to admit, the idea was a bit… intriguing. "Okay," you finally said, "but we're just friends, right?" Soshiro nodded vigorously. "Of course, just friends. So, where do we start?"

Your pulse quickened as you slid out of your chair and approached him. "Alright, let's get comfortable," you murmured, guiding him to your bed. You sat down and patted the spot next to you. Soshiro sat down, his eyes wide with anticipation. "What do I do first?"

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your voice steady. "Well, the first thing you want to do is make sure she's relaxed." You leaned back, propping yourself up with your elbows. "Why don't you start by kissing me?"

He nodded, his smile never leaving his face. He leaned in, his eyes closing, and pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was gentle, tentative, but it grew in passion as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

As their kiss deepened, you couldn't help but wonder if this was a mistake. But then you thought about all the battles you'd been through together, the lives you'd saved, and you decided that maybe, just maybe, this was exactly what you both needed.

Soshiro's hands roamed over your body, learning the contours of your curves. You felt his warm breath against your neck as he kissed you softly, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You gasped as he moved down, his mouth leaving a trail of kisses along your collarbone and down to the top of your chest.

"Now, Soshiro," you whispered, your voice trembling, "you have to be gentle. It's all about exploration and pleasure."

He nodded, his eyes still closed, focusing intently on your words. He moved down further, his hands gently parting your legs. "How do I know if I'm doing it right?"

"You'll know," you assured him, your voice growing softer. "Just listen to my body, okay?"

He nodded again, and you felt his mouth on you, tentative at first, but growing bolder as you began to react to his touch. He explored with his tongue, learning the taste and texture of you. You could feel him getting more comfortable, more sure of himself, as you gave him gentle instructions and feedback. Your breath hitched when he found the right spot, and you let out a soft moan.

"You're doing great," you whispered, your hands tangling in his hair. "Just keep doing that."

Soshiro's eyes remained closed, his expression one of intense focus. He listened to your breathing, your words, and the subtle movements of your body, all guiding him in his exploration. He felt a sense of pride swell within him; he was good at this, better than he thought he would be.

The room grew warmer, the tension in the air thick with desire. Your legs began to shake, and you tightened your grip on Soshiro's hair. "Don't stop," you breathed, your voice strained.

Soshiro felt a rush of excitement as he realized he was bringing you closer to climax. He increased his pace, his tongue moving in rhythmic circles. Your body tensed, and you bit your lip to keep from crying out too loudly.

As the moment approached, you reached down and placed your hand on his cheek, your thumb gently stroking the skin beside his mouth. "Open your eyes," you murmured.

Soshiro obeyed, looking up at you. The sight of your face, flushed with pleasure, your eyes closed and your mouth open in a silent scream, was more erotic than he could have ever imagined. It was in that moment that he truly understood the power of intimacy, the connection that went beyond friendship and into something deeper.

Your gazes locked, and you nodded, giving him the final encouragement he needed. He applied more pressure, and your body arched off the bed, your orgasm crashing over you like a wave. You gripped his head tightly, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

When the tremors subsided, Soshiro pulled back, his eyes still on yours. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, a smug smile playing on his lips. "How was that?"

You took a deep breath, your chest heaving. "Perfect," you whispered, a small smile playing on your own lips. "Just perfect."

The air between you was charged, but the mood remained light. Soshiro lay beside you, his head propped up by his hand, his grin never fading. "So, am I a natural?"

You couldn't help but laugh. "Maybe you are," you said, your voice still a bit shaky. "But we'll need more practice, of course."

He nodded eagerly. "Any time you're ready to teach me more, you just say the word."

As you laid there, the tension of your earlier conversation dissipated, replaced by a comfortable silence. You felt a warmth spread through you, not just from the pleasure he had given you, but from the bond that had grown between you.

You talked for a while longer, about nothing in particular, just enjoying each other's company. It was a rare moment of peace in a world where you were constantly fighting for their lives. And as the evening grew late, Soshiro finally got up, stretching out his muscles.

"I should get going," he said, a hint of regret in his voice. "We've got that training session tomorrow."

You nodded, feeling a twinge of sadness as he stood. "Thanks for, you know, trusting me with this."

He leaned down and kissed you forehead. "Thank you for teaching me, [nickname]."

With that, he slipped out of the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts. As you lay there, you wondered if your friendship had just changed forever. Or if, perhaps, it had just become stronger. Either way, you knew one thing for sure: you looked forward to the next time you could help Soshiro hone his newfound skills.

tip me <3

[little-emerald-snake]

Smutmas Day 12

“You can go deeper than that.” - Garreth Weasley X F!MC

🔥NSFW 🔞 MDNI

902 words

Warnings: semi public / sexual favors as payment

Garreth knew she’d be in the library studying at this hour. After all, she promised after this time that she’d start brewing her own potions which meant she really had to step up her study time.

He found her in a tucked away corner of the library just as he’d imagined. Her nose in a book although it wasn’t a potions book. He frowned, clearing his throat loud enough to grab her attention.

She looked up from the romance novel, spotting Garreth and smiling impishly. “Oh, h-hi Garreth! I-I promise I’ve been reading up for potions. Look…see?”

She pulled out her copy of the potions guide book from Sharps class and holds it up as if she deserves a medal for carrying it around on her person.

He only tsks her and shakes his head, disapproval in every fiber of his disposition. He came to stand right beside her, pulling out the potion she was supposed to brew for Sharps class. The very same she’s paid Garreth to brew for her.

Garreth rolls the vial between his fingers and dangles it out teasingly, pulling it back before she can make a grab for it. “You know, I think my prices just went up for brewing, since I’ve gotten so busy lately while brewing for both of us.”

Her smile drops, not expecting him to raise the price but she grabs for her pouch of galleons. He holds his hand out stopping her. “No, I don't want your money. That’s too easy for you. I want something that you actually put effort towards since that’s what I have to go through.”

She thinks for a moment, maybe he wants ingredients? She could get him some stuff he probably doesn’t have easy access to. “Do you want specialty ingredients or something? I could get you whatever you need.”

He shakes his head. “You doubt a prodigy of potions will acquire specialty ingredients on his own? No, I have plenty at my disposal. I’m thinking of something else.”

She nods, looking at how serious but relaxed his facial expression is. He knows exactly what he wants and she can tell he isn’t leaving without having his way. “What can I do to pay you back Garreth?”

He raises his brows with a smirk, pointing down at the floor in front of him and suddenly she gets it. He wants a sexual favor in trade. Her mind reels for a moment, she can’t say she hasn’t imagined doing this for him before so it surprises her that it’s what he wants too.

She doesn’t hesitate as she slides out of her chair and onto her knees in front of him. His body and robes block the view of anyone passing by the shelves they are crammed between, which makes her feel a bit better as she undoes his belt.

He simply slides the vial into the breast pocket of his robe, watching as she undoes his trousers. A wave of arousal from the sight makes his cock twitch to life and begin to swell.

Her on her knees in front of him, even in a public place like this, he’s imagined it so many times before but actually having it happen makes him bite the inside of his cheek.

She finally pulls his cock free, watching as it swells in her hand. She looks up at his hooded eyes before giving a tentative lick starting from the base and ending just below his tip. He groans softly and a small shine of precum beads at his tip.

She licks her lips before dipping her head to taste it. He sighs, watching her contemplate his taste before closing her lips around his tip and sucking in a way that has him seeing stars. He watches her bob her head, slowly working more of him inside while she sucks torturously.

He can tell he’s too much for her mouth but that doesn’t stop her from trying. Her lips feel so good wrapped around him, especially when she slides them up and down his length and doing whatever the hell that suction thing is.

In all his times imagining this, he’d never imagined it feeling this good. He can’t help but want more, desiring to hear her to choke on his cock for all the extra work he’s done for her. “Come on. You can go deeper than that.”

Her eyes flick up to meet his. He can tell she sees this as a challenge when she suddenly takes him all the way, opening up her throat till her lips meet the base of his ginger curls.

He bites back a groan, hand coming up to fist into her hair as he whispers just loud enough for her to hear. “Oh Merlin, yes. Just like that. Wanna see you gag on it.”

He holds her there till she does gag, doing her best to cough silently when it becomes too much. He pulls her back, unable to hold back a groan as her stringy spit clings to his cock and her watery eyes flick up to his.

He can’t help but love the way she looks, eyes glassy from choking on him, cheeks red from embarrassment, and chest heaving as she struggles to breathe. “I should have made you suck my cock so much sooner. You look like you were made for it.”

[evvlevie]

Evies optical illusion kit: change your perspective on shifting, this is all a tent. Yes, a tent.

Hi, Hello my dear shifters! It‘s your favourite shifting blogger Evie again and today I want to fix your perspective. Life, Reality and everything is perspective. Everything changes, when perspective comes into play. Did your crush reject you, or did you dodge a bullet? Are you mean to your dog, or are just not letting him die due to chocolate-poisoning? Are you spending too much money, or are you living sustainably? Your thoughts create reality, but perspective interprets it. One of the first things that you learn when you start out shifting is „you can not get stuck in your DR, you can leave whenever you want to“

Something that a lot of people tend to forget, is that you cannot get stuck in your CR either. Reality is not permanent, and reality can not own you as a being, because it’s just a creation from you. How can you get stuck in something you decide to be there or not? Shifters think that shifting is this process, that is so fucking hard in the very first time and after that is all light and breezy because then you‘ll know. They love to say „you‘ll know“. You‘ll know how to shift, you’ll know that it‘s real, you‘ll know how it feels, you‘ll know how it works. And because of that, the first shift is an absolute pain in the ass to achieve but the ones after that are just going to sleep and wake up, right? „Yes, Evie, because it‘s going home from your DR! I won‘t have to make any method or effort to shift to my CR, it‘s the CR! Why would that be hard? I can‘t seem to even fucking leave this place, why would it be any effort to return to it?“

See where I am going with this? If you took that mindset, and flipped it to your momentary situation, maybe you‘d actually shift. If you view this reality as hard to leave and easy to return to, why don‘t you change the perspective to fit your mindset? Pretend this Reality would be your DR and the reality you are trying to shift to was yo ur actual CR. Would you assume it to be hard? Exactly. Realities are all out of the same material. They are all on the same level. This reality might be a DR for someone and they are having trouble entering this one right this second. Sounds bizarre right? That’s because you need to stop viewing a DR as this Empire State Building and your CR as a Tent. All realities are tents. They can all be caves even I don‘t mind. If leaving is easy, than that applies to every reality, not just your DRs because you script that it’s easy to leave. Bestie I hate to tell you this: but if you assume you have a hard time to shift, than that’s you real-time scripting your CR. You call the shots babe. Keep your assumptions in check, keep your thoughts positive and don‘t stand in your own way.

I really hope that this little post was able to help someone out there today! If you need anything don‘t be afraid to ask!

yours in every reality,

Evie &lt;3

[mint-yooxgi]

Kinktober Day 3.5 - Yandere!Demon!Felix - Body Worship & Face Sitting

Anonymous Said: Can’t miss out on this though, yandere demon Felix with body worship and face sitting

A/n: Now, this is my kinda ask ehehehe

Word Count: 1,101

Kinktober 2022 Mini Masterlist

A shiver runs down your spine as you feel his hands trail up your sides for the nth time this evening. You can feel him smirk against your skin as he continues to place open mouthed kisses up your stomach and between your breasts until his lips are on yours once more.

“Gorgeous,” he hums against you, loving the way you whimper against his mouth as he drags his hands over you chest, grazing your nipples in the process. Slowly, he trails his lips down your neck, biting softly on the skin there as you throw your head back. A pleased growl builds in his chest, “mine.”

“Felix, please,” you whine, your one hand coming to tangle within his locks as he looks up at you with innocent eyes. Eyes which do not reflect the devious smirk tugging at his lips.

He’s been toying with you like this for a while now, having stripped you bare in order to admire the sight that is you fully spread out and naked beneath him. There has yet to be a section of your body that he hasn’t touched, his mouth roaming every inch of you that he can. It’s driving you insane.

“Impatient, aren’t we, Love?” The way he drawls that single word out, voice dropping even lower as he nips at your ear, has you clenching around nothing. Another whimper escapes your lips. “I told you I wanted to take my time with you tonight.”

“Felix,” your grip tightens in his hair as you mewl out his name, feeling his one hand creeping further and further up your inner thigh just as it has done so many times previously this evening, yet never quite reaching where you want it to most.

You don’t know how much more of this you can take. The simple ministrations he continuously repeats over your body leave tingles in their wake, your whole being feeling as if you’ve come alight with flame. Frustration is one thing, but this? This is just torture.

You love it all the same, and you know that he knows that, too.

“I suppose I could give you a little reward for being so good for me.” He chuckles, his eyes flashing beneath the moonlight. In an instant, he’s on his back, flipping your positions so that your core is seated right above his smirking lips. “I’m going to devour you now, but just remember: you asked for this.”

There’s a brief moment where he hesitates, giving you just enough time to pull away if you want to. Despite the pool of desire burning within the pit of his soul for you, Felix would never do anything you’re uncomfortable with. The fact that he sees you clench around nothing at his words, your lips parting with a gasp as he tightens his grip around your thighs to pull you down to him lets him know that you want this just as badly as he does. A fact which make his eyes bleed black just as he licks the first tentative strip over your glistening folds.

The immediate way your legs shake, an unabashed moan slipping past your lips as you shift closer to him has his cock twitching in response. Fuck, he could get drunk on you, and he’s only just had a small taste.

This is exactly why he had been putting this off for as long as he did, for he knew that as soon as he got a taste, he would become addicted. Now, he knows he won’t be able to stop until he’s completely satisfied both you and him. Not that he wants to, anyways. You make him obsessed.

Slowly, Felix drags his tongue through your folds, collecting your juices which leak out of you with fever, needing every last drop to keep him satisfied. After all, when it comes to you, he’s insatiable.

His fingers dig into the skin of your ass as he pulls you into him, flicking your clit a few times before suckling the bud into his mouth. The way you start to grind down into him, your one hand finding purchase in his hair for support, lets him know just how much you’re enjoying this.

Again, his eyes flash black as he watches you above him. The way you throw your head back, getting lost in the pleasure only he can provide for you has another content rumble building in his chest. He sticks out his tongue, flattening it out so you can continue to ride his face like this.

Use him. Use him for your own desire. Let him be the only one to take you to the furthest points of ecstasy, throwing you into the waves of pleasure only he can provide you. Let him get drunk off of you: your taste, your sounds, your everything as he brings you higher and higher each time. 

It’s the only thing he wants, the only thing he’s ever wanted. The one thing he craves above all else in this world, both mortal and immortal: you.

Felix moans against you, the vibrations reverberating through your core and causing your eyes to roll to the back of your head. He looks up at you with that all too familiar gaze of his, essentially pleading with you to come for him, to drown him in your essence until there’s nothing left of him but where he ends and you begin.

A few more flicks of his tongue and your orgasm is washing over you like a tidal wave, your whole body shaking from the ecstasy that floods your veins.

Every sound, every movement, every last drop of you, Felix consumes. You are his and he is yours, in every meaning of the word, and this sight - this beautiful, enticing sight above him - is the most captivating thing he has ever experienced in his life.

Your chest rises and falls with each breath you take, eyes closed in utter bliss as you come down from your high. Gently, Felix continues to suckle on your clit, drinking every last drop of your sweet nectar that you have to offer him. Only, now that he’s had a taste, he wants more.

A whine leaves your lips, your one hand that’s still tangled in his hair attempting to push his head away from your sensitive core. You can just tell that he’s nowhere near done with you yet.

His deep chuckle is all that answers you, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing throughout your body as he releases your clit with a dramatic pop of his lips. “Remember, you asked for this.”

[revolversandlace]

Corrupted Hearts - Part I

Dutch x f!Reader, Arthur x f!Reader

Warnings & Tags: MINORS DNI, Dutch x f!Reader, Smut, Blowjob, PiV, Doggy, Choking, Toxic & Unhealthy Relationships, Dom/Sub

Word Count: 5.6k

Summary: Dutch makes yet another plan. One you ain’t so sure of, so you do what comes naturally... go to his tent to convince him otherwise.

a/n: I have no idea how long this is going to end up being, or how many parts. Just got to hold on for the thirsty ride!

Series Summary

AO3 Link

You sat at the table, your chin resting in your hand as you gazed intently at Dutch as the wooden surface dug into your elbow. 

'If you all play your part, and do exactly as I say - this will not fail.’ He said with a dangerous rasp in his voice as he eyed each of you in turn. 

No one said a word, you could feel the tension in them all. The way that Arthurs shoulders and jaw tightened with each delegation, with how Javier shifted the weight on his feet behind you. It was a big plan, a ballsy plan, and you knew it. But what you also knew was that you were not going to be the one to voice your concern - not yet anyway. You were the one to make sure that everyone was to do as they were told, exactly as Dutch had mentioned. 

As you and Dutch shared a silent look of knowing, you knew that’s precisely what he wanted from you as well. 

‘You and Arthur are on point,’ he continued, looking at you from underneath the brim of his bowler, as you gave him a nod in agreement. 

That was the part of the plan you didn’t like. 

You trusted Arthur, not that he was a hard man to trust. Ever since you fell into the gang two years ago, you and Arthur had quickly formed a mutual respect and trust with one another. A few close calls with bullets and the law later, you gladly called him a friend which was easily done after a man saved your life. You both worked well with one another, quickly, efficiently and above all you were both invaluable shots. 

So much so, that you didn’t think that the both of you leading everyone else was the best idea. Sure, if the law or bounty hunters weren’t tailing you, the explosives went off correctly and there was the exact amount of security you expected - there wouldn’t be any issue. But if there was one thing you knew about riding with the Van der Linde gang was that things rarely went as planned.

One stagecoach, at least twelve escorts and the difficult terrain of the West Grizzlies - trusting the information Bill provided them was any good… it was a hell of a gamble. Although Dutch was exuberant, he at least had a modicum of caution. But there was something about this job that almost had him salivating. You'd be lying if you weren't swept away by the way he spoke about it, hell the way he spoke about anything.

He had you all on a knife edge, this was no different than any other time. He sang the song that promised gold and riches, of another job to get you all that one step closer to freedom, to build with him an America that he and all of you envisioned. A way to make payment to leave your sins and horror behind. 

But through all of your bloodlust and desire to jump into any opportunity to kill the law or one of those Pinkerton fuckers, no amount of gold or slit throats was enough to eradicate the ever growing niggle. Your life was the only thing worth a damn, and not something you would easily negotiate no matter how pretty Dutch's words were. 

'Micah,' Dutch said, turning his gaze to the greasy blonde man, 'I want you at the back, keep an eye out for any trouble.'

'’Course, Dutch,' Micah said, his rotten breath detectable even from the other side of the table.

That was the second part of the plan that you didn't like. Although Micah had proved somewhat capable in getting the job done, you've been in enough shootouts with him to know he favoured shooting with two guns in any direction he could. He didn't care who was in the way, and that was the last person you wanted at your back. 

He was a man that clearly believed quantity over quality and you were sure he was overcompensating for something in some capacity. Not that your mind would venture into imagining Micah in a scenario of those sorts. The sheer notion was enough to turn your stomach. 

'The rest of you,' Dutch said, stabbing his finger in the air before him, 'ride hard and ride fast. And don't mess this up. Dismissed.' 

The gang scattered for the most part as Dutch turned his back, strolling back towards his tent as his gun belt rattled across his hips, his spurs clinking across the hard ground. 

You inhaled deeply, reaching for your smokes as Arthur mimicked your action, lighting one for himself. 

'You thinking what I'm thinking?' You said in a low tone as you lit the white stick. 

Arthur only grumbled as the silence settled between you. You mind was alert, your wits sharp as always as you ran every scenario and every fuck up possible through your head. You just wanted those damn gold bars and for all of you to get back in one piece. Well most of you anyway. 

'Can't say I like Micah pointin' a gun at the back of my head,' Arthur said after a moment, almost reading your thoughts. 

You were to ride at sunrise. The horses were to be fed, guns cleaned, ammo stocked, the plan clear in all of your minds. The routine was the same as always and as the sun began to dip across the treeline, you knew the evening would be the only chance to get a hot meal down you before the job. 

'Guess I'm taking this turn with Dutch then?' You said, finishing your cigarette as the idea of a warm venison stew slipped from sight. 

Much like with everything, you and Arthur had an understanding when it came to disagreements with Dutch. Do it quietly and take it in turns. Dutch was not a man that was fond of the same person bringing the same complaints with them. 

‘Guess so,’ Arthur said with a shrug, standing up from the bench at the table, ‘sure you can find a way to persuade him.’ Arthur gave a low chuckle, slapping the back of your shoulder gently. 

‘Don’t be an ass,’ you huffed as you too stood, already trying to formulate a script in your mind. 

Your relationship with Dutch was no secret around camp. No one said anything directly, not that they ever did when it came to that sort of stuff. The odd joke here or the sly quip there, but never, never in front of their leader. Dutch had made that clear the day Micah had decided to be clever, not long after he joined the outfit. 

He made a joke, or at least that’s what you had always hoped, about if Dutch was the sharing sort. Him and Dutch had disappeared for sometime after that, with Micah returning the most quiet you had ever seen him and you can only imagine the well spoken threats Dutch had whispered to him out of camp. 

For that you were grateful. Micah was a detestable piece of shit and although that wasn’t the last time he said anything to you out of earshot, it was the last time he was so brazen about it. 

The relationship between you and Dutch wasn’t a complicated one. It wasn’t any of that fancy lark that filled Mary-Beth’s books of love struck letters or declarations of anything. The only promise he made you swear to him the first night you found yourself in his bed, was that you were his. You were loyal to him, to the gang, to nothing else. You would follow his orders both in and out of his tent, and the moment any of that changed, you would no longer “be an appropriate fit.”

Dutch had a way with words, a way that thrilled and scared you. And from that moment you were hooked. You were sure there was a layered meaning to the words he spoke to you that night, but you didn’t care. Even if he was a fraction of the man he was, you’d finally found a place that was warm, with people who could and would look after you. In your mind that was a worthy price. 

As your feet carried you to Dutch’s tent, you sighed to yourself before pulling back the flap, not enough to see in but just enough so you would be heard. 

‘Dutch?’ You said, your voice and as low and as silky as you could manage. 

‘Enter,’ his voice was clipped, a sure sign this wasn’t going to be easy. 

You pushed through into the tent, the soft melody trickling from the gramophone as Dutch sat up in his cot, his legs outstretched with a book in hand. He didn’t even look up at you. 

‘Can I help you?’ He said, his eyes not leaving the book. It was worn, the spine fraying and the text utterly faded but you could put a week's worth of work on what it was. 

‘Dutch, it’s about the job.’ You stood there before him, your hands at your hips that were cocked to the side. 

‘Go on.’ he said, licking the pad of his thumb as he turned the page. 

‘I don’t think the plan will work,’ you said, sternly and frankly. You spoke to Dutch enough, had enough conversations with him that you knew playing coy wasn’t going to get you anywhere. He had never let on to it, but you were sure that’s what he liked about you. You were never one to mince your words but still smart enough about when you vocalised anything. 

‘Is that so?’ He said, his eyes briefly pausing on the text in front of him.

‘Yeah,’ you sighed, crossing your arms in front of you, ‘look Dutch, I ain’t questioning you but-’

‘It sounds like you are doing exactly that, my dear,’ he said, continuing with his reading. 

‘I just don’t think it’s much good having your best two shots up front is all. And Micah? You honestly trust him to cover our backs?’ 

‘I trust he will do as I say,’ he said, his teeth almost gritted as he slammed the book closed with one hand. 

The sound made you jump slightly as he turned to look at you, running his fingers over his moustache. 

‘Will you do the same?’ He stood, pacing towards you as your breath caught in your throat, your heartbeat rising. 

‘Dutch you know I don’t mean anything by it, I’m just concerned,’ you said, your arms falling to your side in exasperation. You really weren't in the mood for games but it seemed, as always, that’s exactly what Dutch wanted. 

He stood in front of you, all but towering over you as you could feel the heat of his chest, even through his waistcoat. You slowly raised your gaze to his, meeting his eyes as he looked down on you like a piece of prey. 

‘I just think,’ you said as calmly as you could without faltering, ‘that I could be of better use if -’

He cut you off, his deep rumbling laugh filled the air around you. Within a flash his hands wrapped around the back of your head, gripping your hair tightly, his rings digging into the back of your scalp as he forced you to keep eye contact with him. 

You knew this game, and you played it well. You were sure all the other women gave him that doe eyed look of submission. Yes sir, of course sir. But you weren’t one of those women. You held your gaze, your eyes narrow and mouth taut. You were sure there was to be some speech, some threat, some whisper of seduction. You just had to wait. 

‘I know all of your uses, miss,’ he hissed, giving you hair a small but tight tug. 

You didn’t flinch. 

‘Do you think you’re the one giving orders now?’ He said, his moustache twitching impetuously. ‘Perhaps, I should leave the gang in your capable hands.’ 

You didn’t fight him. You didn’t move. Not because you were scared, oh it was the exact opposite. You hate the way he could play your body so easily. The way your veins and bones and all your insides craved for the danger, for the thrill of the chase. To be so close to the edge of something dark. Time and time again you let him push you there and you doubted that tonight would be any different. But you never let him fuck you over that line without a fair fight. 

‘You know it’s a bad call, Dutch,’ you said, your eyes flicking briefly to his lips. 

‘I don’t make bad calls,’ he rasped, the smell of cigars and a faint hint of whiskey filling your nose. 

You pushed your head into his hand ever so slightly, a small smirk turning at the corner of your lips. 

‘Well I’m here ain’t I?’ 

That earnt a laugh from him as he nodded slowly, gently releasing your hair. 

‘I’m in a generous mood,’ he said, stepping back from you, to sit on the edge of his cot, ‘Micah will stay up front with Arthur, you at the back.’

You smiled, warm and genuine but that did not once soften him one bit.

‘Do not mistake that for charity,’ he said, fetching his glass of whiskey from the side and taking a gulp, his throat swallowing deeply as the liquor left a few small flecks of liquid on his moustache. 

There was a level of danger with Dutch that you had never seen anywhere else, a man who could move his fingers into people’s minds and bend them to his will. A part of you shivered at the thought, a part of you loved it. And he knew it. It was perhaps what drew him to you, ever since that moment he first saw you running a blade across that man's throat until his pleas and gurgles turned to nothingness. You always supposed it was your calm ruthlessness and knowing exactly when to keep your mouth shut that made you so attractive to him. 

‘Take off your clothes,’ he said, not moving an inch as he looked you up and down, that familiar hunger stirring in his eyes. It was so much more than a demand. It was the way that oil would smother the surface of water, coating it in its pearlescent darkness. 

You stood for a moment, allowing him to drink you in, to let the thought creep into his mind about how he would punish you if you didn’t obey. But you would, eventually. Where you were stubborn, he was patient and so precarious with when he chose to exercise that particular trait. 

But you weren’t one of the men that would take his command so easily. Not in the tent anyway. For whatever game he wanted to play you were a worthy opponent. 

So slowly, you raised your fingers, oh so delicately to the first button on your blouse. You worked at it with precision but you certainly took your time about it, prying it from its hole. You moved onto the next and then the next. It was so painstakingly slow even with how salacious you were feeling. 

A part of you wondered if it would always be like this. Between you and him, between you and any other man. The constant manipulation from either side, the intimidation and playing every move like you were locked in a life and death battle of chess. But you’d never known anything else, and this is why you were so happy to comply, between that and the burning heat between your thighs. 

All the other men before him were just a training exercise for Dutch van der Linde, wanted dead or alive in five states. 

When you finally unbuttoned your blouse you slowly shrugged out of it, pulling it from the waistband of your jeans, almost doing a dance for Dutch as you allowed it to pool on the floor. But that was exactly what he wanted. An obedient little performance, just for him. 

No matter how abashed you should have felt, you moved to your gun belt, slowly flicking at the metal as you teasingly coiled it in your fingers, wrapping it around your hand and placing it gently on the floor and not once taking your eyes away from his gaze. You were a lot of things, but a coward was not one of them. 

Dutch pulled out a half smoked cigar from the inside of his waistcoat, the thick half burnt end turning into a bright orange glow as he lit it. For all the times you’d been intimate with him, it was rare you saw him quite like this. It almost seemed that with how little he was moving, aside from the occasional puff on his cigar, all of his effort was spent keeping himself grounded, all of his energy going into not pouncing on you like a mountain lion. 

But if there was one thing you knew about Dutch was that every single bit of this was on his terms. His pleasure, your pleasure, would be exactly as he wanted it. However he commanded it. 

When you finally made your way to your jeans, unpopping each metal button slowly down the fly, you took your toes to your heel, kicking off each boot as steadily as you could muster before wigglily your jeans past your hips and down to the floor before you stepped from the arrangement of garments.

You stood there in your smocks, presenting yourself like a piece of art. 

‘Did you misunderstand me?’ He said, low and fearsome as the smoke billowed between you both. 

Oh no, you hadn’t misunderstood him, not for one second. Perhaps you were pushing your luck this evening. Maybe it was the thought of the job tomorrow as it glistened at the back of your mind that made you feel so bold this evening. 

The night had well and truly come now and before you knew it, the only light was that of Dutch’s cigar end and the dying fumes of the oil lamp, casting weary, blinking shadows on the canvas walls. 

You continued with lazy fingers, pulling the straps from your shoulders as the chemise soon followed the others to the floor in a wispy twirl of silk as you then removed your breeches. You held his carnivorous stare, standing before him like a sculpture made just for him. Which is exactly what you were. A licentious being created by the higher powers just for Dutch. 

He stood, prowling towards you as every part of your body tried to not recoil and run. A childish instinct built from childish notions, and you were anything but. He closed the space between you, as your nipples very nearly brushed against his chest with each breath that you took. He looked over you, savouring you with narrow eyes and furrowed brows as he carefully raised his hand, touching at a lock of your hair. 

‘You gonna behave for me tonight, miss?’ He snarled, his fingers passing through the thick strand of your hair, twirling it like a ribbon. 

You swallowed, sensing something dark within him. But this was always how it went, this little game of his. You undress as he coerces and cajoles until every part of you is stuffed with him and his words, his promises and threats. Until your mind was consumed with nothing else other than all the things you would do for release. 

You doubted tonight would be any different. 

You eventually gave a weak nod, knowing that this would be drawn out whatever way you played it, and as always, he was right. If you did as you were told, it would be easier for you. 

Dutch stepped in closer, his boots echoing on the wooden floor of his tent as he bent his head down to your ear, peppering tentative kisses along your jaw and neck. A faint moan escaped you as your whole, naked body shivered under his touch. You could feel the corners of his lips turn into that wicked smirk of his as he came closer to your ear. 

‘Get on your knees.’ For words so quiet and near soundless, the authority behind them was unmistakable.

You body obeyed before your mind could question it, completely and utterly under his thrall as you did exactly what was asked of you. The wood splintered into your bare kneecaps, digging in and pressing on that familiar nerve as you tried your best to not wince and move yourself as delicately as possible. You looked up at Dutch, as any faithful servant on their knees would, as he unclasped his belt buckle, the metal harshly clanging in the nighttime air. 

You could already see the painful bulge in his trouser, hard a prominent even in the low light, as he shoved his hand into his jeans, pulling his cock free from the confines. 

‘Open,’ he growled, as you complied instantly, your mouth falling open, your tongue already glistening with spit as with one hand, Dutch grabbed the top of your hair, pulling your mouth onto him. 

However, Dutch, although a forceful man, was not a rough one. Slowly, inch by inch he pulled you mouth further down his cock watching even wince, every second your breath grew more and more strained as your cheeks hollowed, waiting for his instructions. 

He smiled down at you, the sadism plastered all over his smug face as you kept your tongue flat, desperate to not make any decisions on what he would or would not like. You would be told in good time, when he was ready. 

You felt the tip hit the back of your throat, your mind fighting against the need to splutter and gag as you could feel his excitement growing with every morsel of cock that you were gratefully taking. It was a challenge, you knew it was. How far he could go with you before you said no, before you refused to take it anymore. But that wasn’t you. Never once had you backed down from a challenge, and tonight wasn't going to be the first time you relented. 

You took a deep breath through your nose, using the muscle in your stomach to help open your throat and you felt Dutch’s cock slide further down, making it near impossible to breath. You held yourself, your knees starting to ache and cramp, the oxygen in your lungs slowly seeping like sand in an hourglass. But your lips remained wrapped around him, your mouth filled with saliva and precum as you held your gaze and your breath. 

Dutch didn’t move, his rings tangled in your hair and a look of superiority consumed his features as he looked down his nose at you. 

You could almost hear the words in his head, the words of degradation that he never said aloud, not that he needed to. He could make you feel them in one swift movement, as though he possessed some supernatural force. It was almost cruel in a way. The way he could make you think such things and still have you cunt dripping and aching, your slick coating your calves as you remained kneeled, paying homage with your mouth. 

Answering your silent prayers, he pulled his mouth out slowly, just as slowly as it went in, enough to allow you some breath back into you. And God, did you take in as much air as you could through your nose as you supposed it would be the last chance you had. 

Your mouth was growing as wet and as messy as your cunt and Dutch languidly moved your head up and down his thick shaft, burying himself to the hilt one moment and leaving you near empty the next. But you held on, no matter how much your jaw complained, or your stomach tightened from the intrusion, all of it was a small price to pay for the ever building heat between your thighs. It was a painful taunt, your mouth being used in ways you wished were elsewhere. But that was how Mr Van der Linde liked it. He like to torture you, he liked you as a play thing for pleasure, pain and killing and everything in between. 

The only difference between you and the dog of the camp was what he was doing to you right now. And hell, you were more loyal than a beast. You didn’t even need leftovers to be bent to Dutch’s whim. 

‘Your much prettier when you’re quiet,’ Dutch growled, using your mouth to pleasure himself as he stood stoic and poised. 

Your eagerness grew as a muffled whine heaved from you, closing your throat around his cock and you saw Dutch’s eyes fluttered in pleasure. Good. The better it was for him, the better it was going to be for you. 

He pulled your head back roughly, taking his cock from your mouth as a trail of silvery spit still connected you. You weren’t far off slobbering everywhere as he smiled down at you. Working his fingers out of your hair, he stood back, making his way to the cot once again as he sat on the edge, his cock shining in the last of the lamp's light. 

‘Get up,’ he said, beckoning at you with two fingers. 

Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, a sticky trail of a mixture of fluids coated your skin. You complied, making your way over to him. He trailed the curve of your breast with a single finger, tracing it down your stomach as your whole spine felt as though it would dissolve. You were desperate to be touched, to be used, to find some sense of everything you were feeling, your carnal desire yearning for more. 

But that did not come for you. He stopped just above your slit, his finger falling as he gripped his cock, stroking the full length slowly. Not a hair was out of place. If it wasn't for him showing himself to you, he looked the same as he always did. Polished jewellery, a pressed white shirt, an immaculate image of refinery and ferocity melding into one. In all the years you have been with him, you had never once seen him unclothed. 

There was a reason for that, as there always was with Dutch. Some calculation behind every decision he ever made. What that was however was never something he divulged, nor did you ever ask. But you knew it helped the image of him as all powerful beings, without the same needs as the mortals around him. Come to think of it, you never saw him eat, or bathe or any other necessity. Perhaps he really was from another world. An entity sent to deliver those from the wicked corruption of the new world. How much you believed that though was another matter. 

'Turn around' he said, as your brows pulled together. You almost opened your mouth, a natural response to argue or to say something but you decided against your better judgement, pivoting on the balls of your feet.

He grabbed at the soft flesh of your hips kneading at your sides in unison. He brought both his hands across your ass cheeks, under where they curved and cupped at them with a firm squeeze. 

You moan at the sensation, the dominance spilling over from the gang leader. Your leader. 

Giving you a decisive smack with one hand, you felt the sharp sting as your ass wobbled, your eyes closing briefly as he brought his hands between your thighs but nowhere near high enough to where you needed them.

Pulling apart your legs, he slotted his knees between you, pulling at the side of your thighs to get you in the perfect position as you became straddle across his lap, hovering precariously. 

You didn’t dare plead or beg as your heat awaited its overdue appraisal. 

The head of Dutch's cock ran up your slick, warm and wet like freshly skinned veal as he teased the head of his cock at your entrance, threatening to envelope his masculinity within you. Your breath heaved, eyes closed, hoping, as you were invoking the deliverance you knew he could provide you. 

As you stared into the darkness, you felt his large hand on the small of your back, pushing you forward slightly as you sat down onto his lap, your hips doing everything but grinding. Rolling your shoulders, you hoped beyond hope the torture would be over as you began to whisper, beseeching into nothingness as your mind mumbled it’s secret petition. Your mouth moved silently, your soft lips gracing each other as your whole mind, body and soul begged for something more, something beyond sense or reason. 

You could feel his hard cock against your ass as you gripped onto his knees in front of you, waiting subserviently for your next orders. 

He held your cheeks again, massaging them roughly, the cold of his jewellery creating a stark contrast between the warmth of his skin as he pulled you apart, rubbing his length upwards and between you, using your ass to gratify himself. 

His tip coaxed across your asshole, as Dutch pressed your cheeks together around his cock, his grip tightened as he thrusted slowly. His hands held you fiercely, depressing into your soft skin as his movements quickened. You whimpered as his shaft continued to work on your skin.

It was enough friction for your body to ache and your need to be satisfied grew to unbearable heights.

He pushed you slightly, holding your hips as he speared his cock inside of you without warning. You nearly screamed but your body seemed to take over your mind as not a single coherent thought was left within you, as you felt Dutch's hand snake across your throat forcing you to let out strangled sobs.

‘Shh…’ he whispered, his voice low and menacing.

It was almost too much, your breath coming faster now that his cock was buried fully into you, filling you up as you stretched around him. He moved slowly, making sure to leave no part of his shaft untouched. He moved like a predator, stalking and pouncing at just the right time, making it seem as if it were all planned to be this way. It was all calculated to make you feel the full extent of his power over you, to use you as he pleased.

Your mind was awash with lustful images of what was happening to you. The sensations consuming as Dutch moved his cock in and out of you whilst you helplessly rolled your hips. You were already on fire as his thrusts grew more frenzied, sending ripples of pleasure and pain coursing throughout your entire being. He didn't even bother to move his hips, as yours naturally ground against his as you rose to meet his thrusts. Your eyes closed, a moan rising from your throat as your back arched. A slight gasp escaped your lips at the sensation of having his cock inside you once again.

‘What do you want?' He growled into your ear.

But it was no use. All words had seemed to escape you as you chased your own high. Everything else ceased to exist as you clung to his knees desperately, letting him have his way with your cunt as the coil began to tighten between your thighs.

'Tell me,' he said again.

'Please, Dutch,' you whimpered pathetically, your mouth dry from panting as you couldn't even peel your eyelids open.

He made a sound of satisfaction, a low mmm as you felt his chest reverberate behind you. His grip tightened on your throat, as you felt his hand move from your hips to between your legs, the place where you needed his touch the most.

‘I need you to tell me' he said again, his breath hot against your neck.

You were not a stranger to this, and you knew better than anyone how to please him. But more importantly how he could please you.

He pressed his fingers onto your clit, pressing down on it hard as you squirmed and twitched on his lap, his cock still working its wonders on your insides. But then his fingers started to move, deliberately and forcefully as he buried himself in you, his thumb pressing on the side of your neck in just the right place for you to see black spots, your mind becoming more absent by the second. 

The waves crashed over you sooner than expected, as the whole world turned black. Your only senses were that of the coursing pleasure that coated and licked at every morsel of you, your whole body spasming, as Dutch held you in place, coaxing out every perfect second of your orgasm. His hand dropped from you as he pulled out of you in haste, your hearing slowly returning from the ecstatic buzz as he grunted behind you with the hot ropes of spend hitting your back and hips. 

You both sat there for what felt like an eternity, both panting and sweating as the musk began to fill the tent. When the feeling eventually returned to your legs, you stood cautiously and made your way to the wash basin precariously. Dutch meanwhile, tucked himself away, returning to his half smoked cigar and dog eared book. 

You cleaned, dressed and took your leave as you always did when the night was finished without another word. 

You still weren’t even sure if that man ever slept.

[clonesimpextra]

Supposed to Be

Pairing: Commander Wolffe x Reader Word Count: 1.1K Rating: Explicit (18+ Only) Summary: In the aftermath of the Malevolence attack, you try to comfort Wolffe. A/N: I wrote this a long time ago but didn't post it because I thought I might use a refurbished version of it for my WolffexOC fic, A Shattered Peace. I've since changed directions a bit over there to the point where this exact scene wouldn't exactly fit in anymore. SO up here it goes. I didn't originally plan for it to be so sad, but I guess I ended up in an angsty mood and I can only apologize LOL.

When you land your fighter at the GAR headquarters and walk into the 104th barracks, the first thing you notice is how quiet it is.

Where there normally are dozens of clones roaming the hallways, shouting from the rec room, or snoring so loudly the sounds pierce through the durasteel walls, there is now only quiet, empty space

When you knock on the door to Wolffe’s quarters, you almost expect him not to answer. You wouldn’t be surprised if he wanted to be alone after everything he and the 104th had been through on the last mission . . . everything you had missed because you’d been called back to the Temple.

The seconds pass with no answer and you’re half turned to leave when you hear the swish of the door opening and you’re looking at Wolffe’s face. Or at least, you would be if he wasn’t staring down at the floor.

You resist the urge to step forward, not wanting to barge in where you might not be welcome.

“Wolffe?” you ask tentatively, unsure what it is you’re actually asking.

But his shoulders sag as soon as his name leaves your lips, and his hand shoots forward to wrap around your arm and pull you inside before you even have a chance to take another breath.

The door locks shut behind you and Wolffe has you wrapped against his chest, his head bent down to rest in the space between your neck and shoulder. You rub your hands up his back, pressing down slightly to try and ease the tension you can feel in his muscles even through his black undershirt.

“Wolffe,” you whisper into his ear. “I know what happened. I—”

He lifts his head suddenly and covers your mouth with his, breathing in the words you were going to say that probably wouldn’t have helped anyway.

He slides his tongue across the line of your lips and you open for him immediately, a moan already pushing up from deep in your chest. Wolffe is always a passionate kisser. He might be a man of few words, but he doesn’t need to say much when his lips find other ways of speaking for him. 

Right now, though, despite his urgency, Wolffe isn’t rough. You can feel his want, his need, to have you as close to him as possible. To make sure you’re really here, you think. To put everything you know he can’t say into the kisses that are now trailing down your neck.

 He presses a gentle bite into your shoulder, pulling another moan from you in the process, and his hands move to your waist. Gripping tightly, he stumbles backwards with you to the bed. When he sits down, his mouth reluctantly leaving your body, he finally looks at you. And it breaks your heart.

His one brown eye is bloodshot, the skin around it bruised and puffy and you don’t need to ask to know that he’s been crying. You cup his face in your hands, run your thumbs across his cheeks until he closes his eyes, sighing into one of your palms.

The urge to hold him against your breast and keep holding him until the pain you know he’s feeling subsides is overwhelming. But you push it away. That’s not what he needs. And you came here tonight to take care of him.

Moving slowly, you let go of his face and sink to your knees in front of him. At the loss of your touch, he opens his eyes and tilts his head down at you. He still doesn’t speak as you place your hands on his knees and run them up his muscular thighs. You don’t need him to tell you what to do, not tonight, but you need to make sure this is what he wants.

“Wolffe,” you say for the third time tonight, your voice loud in the dark silence of the room, “tell me what you want.”

Quietly, Wolffe places a hand on top of one of yours, weaving your fingers together. His eyes never leaving your face, he raises your hand to his lips and presses a soft kiss to the back of it before placing it on top of his length, still buried beneath his tight pants.

Moving further between his knees, you feel him slowly hardening as he rubs your hand up and down. You grip him tightly, stopping the movement, and cock an eyebrow up at him.

“I know what I’m doing.” You raise your other hand to gently lift his off of you. “Let me do it.”

You stare at each other for a moment, your hand still around him but not moving. Finally, he gives you a slight nod and his cock twitches when you loosen your grip and slide up the length, leaving him behind in search of the seal to his pants that will give you all of him.

Wolffe’s eyes never leave you. Not when you slip him free. Not when you run your tongue, slowly and gently, from the base of his cock all the way to the already leaking top. Not when you take him in your mouth and suck. It doesn’t matter if you can’t see him watching you — you can feel it in the Force around you. The pain, the longing, the desire for something to push away the nothing.

You give him as much of you to fill that void as you can. You’d give him more, if you could.

When your jaw’s aching and your cunt’s begging for attention of its own, you feel tears fall down your cheeks and you don’t know if it’s from the pressure of his cock, ready to release, or from the fresh wave of agony piercing the air.

You open your eyes.

You look up.

And just as a wave of another kind fills your throat, you see a tear that isn’t yours fall to mix with your own. This isn’t the way things were supposed to be, but it’s the way they are. 

Wolffe pulls himself out, releases his clinch on the mattress, and pulls you to the bed with him. Later, when your heads are bent close together, each of your breaths tasting like the other, he whispers something into your mouth.

It’s only in the morning, when you wake to an empty bed and a wall in the Force blocking you from Wolffe, that you realize what he meant when he said he was sorry.

[slightlyaboveaverageiq]

Connor and the Brat {Part 8}

A/N: SMUT AHEAD… well kinda. A smutty dream in our favorite trauma surgeons mind. Poor Connor having wet dreams about Brat and she’s only about a week away from moving in with him what’s a man to do? 😂😂

TW: SMUT, MINORS DNI 🖤🖤

Warmth. Wet warmth was all Connor was able to register before he felt a tongue swirling around the head of his cock. He smiled to himself, this was always the best way to wake up. He pulled back his comforter and nearly jumped out of the bed when he saw just exactly who’s mouth was working his now painfully hard cock, long brown waves obscured the persons face aside from the bright green eyes that were watching his every mood with pride shinning through them. Bright green eyes he knew all too well. Brat was sucking his cock like her life depended on it and all he could do was watch. She let go of him with a pop and she crawled her way up his body before hovering her faces inches above his. “Ravenna what are you-“ she held a finger up to her mouth a coy smile making its way to her lips before she continued crawling over him stopped when her panty clad pussy was just inches from his mouth. He groaned looking up at her, maroon lace. It figured she looked so beautiful in the dress Ava and Sarah had picked out when he took her out.

“Did you think you were the only one who was going to have fun this morning? I’ve seen the way you stare at me Connor, the way you eyes fuck me when you think no one’s watching, when you think I’m not watching. Do you know how many times I had to play with myself in the shower just from you coming to eat lunch with me? How badly I wanted to be touched? …But I was locked in the crazy ward so there wasn’t too much we could do about that, but now we can and I can see how much you want to.” As she finished her sentence she stretched her body down Connors engulfing his cock with her mouth while shaking her pussy invitingly in front of his face. He definitely shouldn’t. He was her mentor and was supposed to be helping her get back on track but he could see how wet she was through her panties so ever so slowly and gently he peeled one side back groaning when he saw just how wet she was. He tentatively licked her and a loud groan came from both of their mouths, Ravenna was right. He had wanted it much longer than even he had realized. Ravenna worked Connors cock quickly with her mouth and hand while Connor wanted nothing more than to spend all day eating Ravenna. Connors cock was abandoned as Ravenna rubbed her pussy against Connor’s face desperately, his hands came up to her hips helping her move against him. Connor felt her pussy tremble against his mouth as she came and he rocking came to a stop.

He took the opportunity to flip their positions so she was underneath him and he could pin her wrist to the bed. “I guess you live up to your nickname dont you, it’s quite a bratty thing to do leaving a man with blue balls princess.” He whispered in her ear before running his cock yo and down her pussy watching her shake with how sensitive she was from her orgasm. “Look how sensitive you are for me princess. Shaking just from me touching you.” Ravenna could only shake her head and her glassy green eyes met his giving him silent permission to enter her. He slid into her in one quick thrust and they both groaned. “So soft and wet for me princess.” She could only nod her head as he fucked her relentlessly, weeks of thinking about her, not realizing how badly he wanted her until she was in his bed. Connor could feel himself getting close as Ravennas moans got louder clutching at the silk sheets underneath her. “Gonna fill my little princess up, that’s all you needed to fix your bratty attitude wasn’t it sweetheart? Someone to make you cum and fill you with cum.” She nodded silently at him as he stilled and came inside her. He pulled out and reached for a discarded shirt on the floor cleaning both of them up.

Ravenna gave him a sleepy smile before crawling up the bed and snuggling into him, Connor placed a small kiss on the top of her head before pulling the blankets back over them. Connor felt like they had only just fallen back asleep when an alarm was blaring into his eyes. His eyes popped open and he realized two things at the same time. 1. He was sticky, wet, and cold. And 2. He had just had a sex dream about a mentally unstable girl who was supposed to be coming to live with him in a weeks time. How was a Connor going to have Ravenna in his house having sex dreams about her. Not only was it professionally fucked up seeing as how he’s one of doctors it’s also just morally fucked up. The poor girl had spent 6 weeks in a psych ward and here Connor was dreaming about what it would be like to have her mouth around his cock, hell she could have a thing for Ava for all he knew.

Connor was well and truly fucked.