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eddiernunson · 11 months

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Nice to Meet You, Where You Been? | Eddie Munson x f!Reader | 18+

Thank you to @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you for editing, you're the best!

Summary: your college roommate takes you to the annual Harrington Halloween Party, where you expect to do nothing but get drunk and dance for a night. That was...until you turn around to the person dancing against you to Eddie fucking Munson.

Warnings: strangers to lovers, praise/degradation, hook-up at a party, daddy kink, creampie, no protection, slow ish build up, size kink? maybe?, hooking up under the influence

I had a whole ass plan to write for KinkTober but executive dysfunction took over. Hopefully this makes up for it...maybe.

I have another Halloween themed fic from last year, EddiexReader with Steve if anyone is interested

Word Count: 6.1k

You sit in the backseat of your roommate’s boyfriend’s beater, the music bumping through the stereo as you make your way to what is supposedly the biggest Halloween party of every year. Your roommate spent the beginning of your fall semester hyping up this party as the best place to be on a Halloween night. Her insistence was charming, and you were looking for an excuse to get drunk. So, now you are watching as you pass by Halloween decorations and children dressed in costumes going Trick-or-Treating.

You don't pay much attention to what they're saying, the gist of it reminiscing on the Halloween parties they had attended in the past. Your roommate had made it very clear from the start that this guy, whatever his name was, his Halloween parties were legendary in town. He has only been throwing them for a handful of years, but if you were a young adult in rural Hawkins on Halloween night, chances are you were at this party.

You start to wonder how big this guy’s house must be if a couple hundred people have been attending every year, and it sounded like he even encouraged it.

You can hear the music bumping from the house before you even see it. It's hard to miss, a cluster of cars in the neighborhood, several people walking up the lawn towards the wide-open door. Your roommate’s boyfriend parks down the street, a spot that is probably fine to park overnight due to the nature of the party.

If there is to be a single sober soul at this party, they would be a rare sight.

You tug at your costume as you walk behind the two of them, strutting arm in arm. They’re wearing a matching couple’s costume, as salt and pepper. It’s something they could come up with last minute, him wearing a black shirt for pepper and her a white dress for salt. Their costume is minimal, and certainly they’ll get asked frequently what they’re supposed to be, but when everyone’s intoxicated, you suppose it won’t matter much.

You’re dressed as your favorite iconic Batman villain, Poison Ivy. You loved the character from the DC comics as you grew up and having a year away from your parents and in a different town, you figured it might be a time to try a new daring costume. So here you walk, arms crossed in a small green dress with fake vines pinned across your chest. You opted for some dramatic green eyeshadow and bright red lips, hoping your makeup and costume will sell the look.

Your ears are nearly bursting as you cross the threshold to the front door of the massive house from the loud bumping music. The pop music is a bit obnoxious, but you’re sure you won’t care once some alcohol is in your system.

Your roommate seems to remember you exist, escaping her boyfriend’s arms for the moment and intertwining her arm around yours. She immediately guides you to the kitchen where stacks of red solo cups are sitting, surrounded by bottles of alcohol and soda. “Holy shit.” You mutter.

“I know.” She giggles, handing you a cup and some tequila.

“No thanks.” You push it back, knowing what exactly tequila does to you. “I’ll just do a vodka-sprite.”

As you’re pouring, in waddles a lanky dude with brown curled hair and freckles scattered on his pale skin. “Oh hey, Mandy!” He greets her, stumbling as he toasts his cup. “Haven’t seen you in a while! How’s that boyfriend of yours?” He asks, spinning the lid of the alcohol he’s holding absentmindedly, causing it to flick off into the distance.

“Nate’s good, I think he’s taking over your stereo, though.” She says, moving the bottles around to make Nate’s drink, as well.

“As per usual.” He laughs, pouring a large quantity of said tequila into his cup.

Mandy seems to realize something halfway through her sip. “Oh shit!” She sputters out, a drip of alcohol leaving her mouth. “Sorry, I forgot you two don’t know each other, yet. Y/N, this is Steve. Steve, Y/N.”

“Hi.” You greet him shyly, his confidence radiating, but very intimidating.

“Hello. Me casa e su casa, and whatever, whatever. Can I just ask, who are you supposed to be?” He asks you, gesturing to your costume.

“Oh, Poison Ivy.” You explain to him, sipping on your concoction and wincing when you realize you’ve poured way too much.

Steve blinks at you, seemingly trying to make sense of your costume. “You’re—you’re a plant?”

You laugh, not in the mood to explain comic book villains to someone who clearly doesn’t know anything about them. “Yeah, sure.”

“Oh, cool!” Steve laughs, taking a big sip of his drink.

“Hey, Steve, you see much of Munson these days?” Mandy asks him, wiping her face from the excess drink surrounding her mouth.

How wonderful, more people you don’t know. Hawkins is the smallest town you’ve ever seen; everyone seems to know of everyone.

“Eddie? Yeah, he should be here tonight actually. Super dork, dressed as some character from Star Wars. Or at least I think it’s Star Wars.” He mutters, rolling his eyes in obvious affection for his friends. “He’s matching with Henderson and Wheeler.”

They shake their heads together in tandem at their supposedly dorky friends. As a Star Wars fan, however, you were fine, ecstatic even to hear that there were souls brave enough to dress up as dorky characters and that you weren’t the only one.

You follow Mandy into the living room, now bumping with a tape mix that Nate apparently brought to the party. It's a damn blast, everyone in the living room dancing surrounded by sweaty bodies, finally finding some joy as the strong drink makes you lose your inhibitions. As you continue dancing, suddenly you find yourself in a huddle of people, Mandy and Nate both dancing by you, but lost in their own drunken haze. You don’t care about that. However, something in your mind as you tell yourself you don’t care tells you to care about the person who’s been up against your back for God knows how long.

They have a good rhythm, and they weren’t all too touchy so nothing in your head raised any red flags. You turn around to face the stranger, and it’s like you forget how to breathe. One of his hands is placed on your hip, a smile on his face giving way to dimples that make you swoon. “Hi.” He greets you. You can’t quite hear it over the music, but you can certainly read his lips. Isn’t all that hard to decipher.

You smile back to him, letting a forearm rest on his shoulder. Who were you to deny such a pretty person? His wide smile expands even more, adding some pressure to your hip. The weight and size of his hand sends a thrill through you, and there’s a level of horniness that’s coming from you that you didn’t even know you could have.

Your drink is eventually finished, the cup dropped to the floor, forgetting to bother to throw it away. The gorgeous stranger pulls you in closer and closer as you continue to dance with him, his hands never dipping down past your waist, but you can tell by the steadiness of his grip that he knows how to use them. Usually, eye contact this intense would cause you to retract, looking away after that first glance. This eye contact only makes you want him more, his brown eyes exuding a type of lust you’ve never experienced before.

Or…were you just picturing this?

The hand that rested on your hip moves to frame your face, slender fingers brushing your cheek, caressing it for a half a moment. The hand moves down to hook under your chin, his thumb swiping across your bottom lip. His eyes very obviously stare at your lips, silently asking you for permission. When his tongue licks his bottom lip you nod eagerly, one hand moving to his black curls that you have been itching to touch as long as you’ve faced him.

Somehow, your ears muffle out the deafening music in favor of the chuckle that leaves his mouth. Before you could even register your heartbeat loud in your ears, he bends down to kiss you, and for the first time your brain computes how much taller he is than you. Any thought you might’ve had seems to evacuate the moment his soft lips meet yours. He kisses you with an expertise that makes you irrationally jealous of any other person who’s had the opportunity before you. He draws a sharp inhale as you deepen the kiss, offering more slobber and spit for him to wholeheartedly accept.

His hands tangle in your curled hair, thumbs caressing your face on either side. Something you're learning about this stranger is that he kisses with his whole body, and he knows how to do it well. His teeth graze against your bottom lip, tugging on it lightly. You whimper, shoving your tongue down his throat. A deep laugh escapes his throat as he meets your enthusiasm. He kisses the corner of your mouth, your cheek, and down to your collarbone. You barely sigh into it when his lips leave your collarbone, looking at you with remorse.

Uh oh. Not good. Were you the worst kisser and he was going to go find someone else worthy of his magical skills?

“Sorry, gotta piss. Beer’s hittin’ hard.” He shouts over the music, his thumb gesturing toward where you guessed the bathroom was.

“Ok. I’m gonna go get another drink.” You tell him, noting the red lipstick now all over his lips. “You got some uh…some lipstick there…hold on…” You reach out to wipe it for him, but he deflects, ducking from your thumb humorously.

“Uh…no thanks. I wear this shit with pride.” He explains, giving you a wink. “Meet you in the kitchen.”

You nod, suddenly full of nerves. You have been all over this guy for the last…however long, you couldn’t even tell. And now you’re realizing, he might be a decent dude on top of being a fantastic kisser.

Your legs carry you into the kitchen, running into Mandy and Nate. You weren’t sure where they’d been, having been lost in your own little world.

“Hi, babe!” She greets you, alcohol sharp on her breath. Whoa. She has had a lot more than you have. “I missed you, where the hell you been?”

You giggle, deciding to go for the tequila. After all, it was your literal liquid courage. And if you wanted to get that man’s fingers down your panties tonight, you were gonna need some. “Making out with the hottest guy I’ve ever seen in my life.” You proudly proclaim, taking a big sip of just straight tequila before adding some Sprite.

“Oh my god!” She squeals, letting go and forgetting about Nate’s existence. “Holy shit, I’m so fucking proud!” Speaking of him…he waltzes into the kitchen, grabbing a cup right by you and winking, apparently unseen by Mandy. “Shit, I’ve been looking for you!” She tells him, drunkenly tapping her hand on his bicep. “Hey, Y/N! This is Eddie. Remember? The dork Steve talked about earlier?”

Ouch. Mandy has no filter, as of course, she's drunk, but she didn’t have to be rude.

At least now you have a name for him. You were starting to feel bad. “Oh, I’m acquainted.” You tell her, sharing a smirk with Eddie.

“Seriously? Cool.” Mandy answers, not getting the hint. You gesture with your eyes alone to Mandy that Eddie was the guy you were talking about just a few moments ago. She gets it, but apparently forgets all about subtlety. “Wait, Eddie Munson is the hottest guy you’ve ever seen in your life?” She asks you incredulously, like it's the most unbelievable thing she's ever heard.

“Thanks, Mandy.” You grit out, teeth clenched.

“Oops.” She grimaces, grabbing Nate's hand. “We’re gonna go find a spot on the couch to make out. Sorry!”

You roll your eyes affectionately, knowing she meant no harm. Did she have to say it, though?

The smirk on Eddie’s face says everything without saying a word. “So, the hottest guy you’ve ever seen, huh?” He asks, looking incredibly proud of the fact.

You knock your tequila back, needing more liquid courage. “Yep. Hottest.”

His eyebrow raises, and he takes a big sip of his own drink. Maybe he needs his own courage. “Well, you’re probably the sexiest damn Poison Ivy I’ve ever seen.” He smirks, leering at you. His eyes blatantly rake up and down your body, giving you a surge in confidence. “You��re like a little sexy nugget of weed.” He laughs, his words slightly slurred.

“Wait, you get that I’m Poison Ivy?” You ask, finally assessing his costume. Oh, he’s Vader without the mask. “I mean I guess you are the dork they talked about earlier.” Eddie seems slightly sunken by this. “Don’t worry,” you tell him theatrically. “I’m a massive dork, myself.”

He perks up, pulling you in by the waist. “What do you say we find a room upstairs?” He asks, taking another big sip of his drink.

You raise your cup back to your lips, knocking the remainder down fast. “I say, lead the way.”

He grabs you by the hand and leads you up the stairs, pushing some people out of the way that were blocking it in the middle of a conversation. As he leads you down the hall, the music somewhat fades out and you can hear him muttering under his breath. “We better find a guest room cause I’m not hooking up in Harrington’s room, and I’ll be damned if I hook up in his parents' room.”

From that, you’re able to assess that he’s over here enough to know which room belongs to whom. He knocks on one of the doors, swearing softly when someone shouts out. He does it twice more, meeting the same result. “Ok.” He sighs, fingers crossed. He knocks twice, no answer. He knocks once more for good measure, and it can be said that there is definitely no one inside. “Thank fuck.”

As soon as you’re through the door he turns the dimmer switches on lightly and locks the door. You take off the vines, letting the pins and fake plants fall to the floor to make it easier for him to climb on you.

He watches you from the four postered bed, still head to toe in what you now noticed was the caped costume that Darth Vader wears. “So, we don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with, by the way. If you wanna do hand stuff, we’ll do hand stuff.”

Your gut swoops at his consideration and empathy. He seems to truly care about your comfortability rather than him getting off. You walk to him, swiping off all accessories you wore, including your shoes. You straddle his lap, pushing on him lightly so he falls back onto the bed. You attack his lips with your own, attempting to show how much his consideration for you already has you soaked. “I will do” you whisper in between a handful of kisses, “anything you want me to,” you tell him, starting to grind the tent you feel poking past your dress. “Within reason.” You add for good measure, not quite that down for anything. But if he wants to fuck you, you’re down. You’re so down. You’re so down bad.

“Fuck…do that again.” He asks, holding your hips. You comply, grinding your wet heat against him, teasing yourself, but loving the expression on his face. It's ethereal. “Fuck, baby. You barely touched me, and you already have me falling apart.”

This makes you smile with pride. A huff of laughter escapes your lips, sighing deeply as you can feel his erection growing. The fact that this man is as hard as he is when he’s this good looking is the biggest compliment in the world. You wrap his lips in a kiss again, your tongue peeking out to lick across his lip, managing to tug yet another moan out of him. You relish in the tone, the whimper that follows right after it. He really isn’t afraid to tell you how much he is enjoying what the two of you are doing.

As you continue to explore his tequila-scented mouth, both of his hands cup your ass, feeling his limber fingers bunch up the fabric of the bright green dress you’re wearing. He takes his time, giving you every minute to communicate any second thoughts. You moan impatiently, encouraging him to get under there already.

He chuckles, pulling the rest of the material up swiftly. His fingers grab at the skin of your barely covered ass cheeks roughly, the friction burning in the best way. A whimper escapes your throat, your mouth filling with the taste of him as your tongues meet. You’re sure he’s gripping those cheeks hard enough to bruise, not that you mind.

An increasing need has been growing since you first laid eyes on him, the need for him to touch you in the most sinful of ways. While his touch on your ass is electric, you are ready for much more. Your whimpers echo the thought, feeling needy for more of his touch, your hip movements going from fluid and purposeful to rigid and needy.

“What do you need, hmm?” He asks in-between kisses, one hand pushing up your dress to your waist as it caresses your bare hip. “Use your words, beautiful.”

“Need you to touch me,” the thought leaves your lips without your permission. How dare your brain betray you like that?

Eddie starts to kiss at your jaw, switching between nibbles and his tongue deliciously lapping at the skin. “Like how?” He asks in intervals, his voice soft, yet demanding. “Like this?” He grabs harshly at your ass, nails digging into the soft flesh. “Like this?” He asks again, tingles radiating down your skin as he lightly grazes your hip bone. “Or…like this?” His hand that rested on your hip bone flutters down to where heat radiates off your core, getting a feel of your soaked panties. “Oh my god, you’re so fucking wet.” He mutters, putting some pressure at the top of your mound.

Your hips start desperately grinding against his fingers, needing him to touch you. “Can you blame me?” You ask him, breath stuttering through it.

“Are you trying to flatter me?” He asks, pausing his pressure momentarily and backing off to study you. You stutter through an empty response, and he laughs kindly. “Cause flattery works, sweetheart.” His fingers move past the cotton barrier he's been making small circles against, delicately tracing along the wetness of your folds. You’re so slick, it’s like a damn slip and slide. The moment his fingers make contact with you, they’re soaked and in your juices.

“Oh shit—” you stutter, grinding on him helplessly. You can barely focus, your arms weak as you’re suddenly unable to hold your weight as you collapse on him. He's not touching you purposely, but just the feel of him sends a ripple down your spine. “Feels good.”

“Hmm.” He answers, noting the way you’re writhing so beautifully on top of him. He knew he would have you in a mess. In fact, he looked forward to it from the moment he saw you. He meticulously moves you onto your back, taking in your wide-eyed stare with a smirk. “Gonna take these off.” He mutters, fingers moving to the waistband of your panties. “Need a good look at you.”

You’re not entirely sure what he means until you see the look on his face as he stares at your pussy for the first time. His darkened stare, the slack smile he wears as he stares at you. Well not you, just the most vulnerable part of you. You’ve had a bit of experience in high school, but no one ever looked at your pussy like this. Like…it’s…

“Beautiful.” Eddie whispers, licking his lips. You watch him as he takes you in, admiring how wanted he makes you feel. Without a warning he lurches forward in between your legs, his tongue licking one long strip up your slick. Your thighs convulse, the pleasure so red hot, you can’t control the choked-out moan that escapes your lips if you tried. “Oh, you’re shaking, baby.”

His tongue moves more purposely to your clit, sucking on it and tapping with his tongue repeatedly. Your thighs clamp around his face, tensing up as every goddamn nerve is set on fire. You feel a slight huff of laughter against your puffy clit, the breath tickling you, causing you to giggle from the sensation. The giggle leads into a whimper, the small movements of his tongue sending you into overdrive. “Feels so—oh my god—I—” You stutter, unable to finish a single sentence.

He tugs your legs, forcing your knees against your chest to get even closer. A fierce heat starts in your stomach, startling the hell out of you. A great build slowly moves you, pushing you step by step over a high you’ve never reached before. Your stomach has never coiled so tightly, the heat never so intense. “Too much, too much.”

“You’re almost there, sweetheart.” He encourages you, watching every muscle in your legs tighten and feeling your abdomen tighten and release. “Oh, it’s gonna feel so good, baby. Wanna see you cum for me, see you fall apart, hear that pretty little mouth make the prettiest noises.”

Eddie slips a finger in, pumping it slowly at first, building up the speed quickly as he continues sucking. There’s something in you telling you to be embarrassed at how quickly your orgasm has snuck up on you, but from the foreplay of his expert lips and the mind-numbing words, it only makes sense.

“Cl-close…” You manage out, the heat making your way through your body, even making a stop in your head.

“Let me see you come apart, sweetheart.” He tells you, working his fingers at an unmatched rate.

The sensation sends you over the edge, your extremities shaking uncontrollably. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, a near primal moan leaves your mouth, a sound you didn’t even know you had the capability of making.

It takes you a minute to recover, Eddie working you through your whole orgasm and gently kissing your thighs until you come back to. He’s patient, waiting until your breathing slows down, kissing his way up your half-dressed torso. Eddie rests his body on yours, the tent in his pants meeting the heat of your center as his forearms support his weight on either side of your head. His thumbs sway at your temple, slowly watching as your eyes lose their glaze.

Your vision finally focuses back on him, his soft smile on his face welcoming as he watches you. His legs tense up, his muscles spasming as he resists thrusting into your heat. It’s teasing you, your hips accidentally moving upwards to meet the now wet stain on his polyester costume. “You’re wearing too much.” You tell him, whining softly.

“I’m sorry, should I take these off?” He asks, kissing you rapidly on the face right after. “Or if you’re done, I don’t blame you.”

“Done?” You ask incredulously. “Oh no, I’m not even close to done.” You tell him, giggling when he gives you a smirk.

“Just checking, sweetheart.” Eddie replies, kissing you rapidly again.

You’re finally back on earth, your hands reaching around him to look for where his costume opens. You had a feeling it would open from the back. You pull each Velcro apart one by one, your hands telling you as you move down that he’s not wearing anything underneath. You don't know if it's odd or the hottest thing in the world. Both, definitely both.

Your nails scratch at his skin at the last one, finally taking the shoulders off. You gasp as he helps you take out each arm awkwardly, only because you could finally see all the tattoos that his costume has covered up. “Holy shit.” You mutter, hands reaching out to palm at each one.

As he mouths at your neck, you push the rest of his costume down, figuring out it was a one piece. Ok. Steve might’ve been right about calling him a dork. But with his cunnilingus skills, who fucking cares? “You wanna fuck?” He asks, making his way down your neck, one hickey at a time.

You wrap your legs around his waist, tugging him down so the thin fabric meets your soaked pussy even harder. “Please?”

“When you ask so nicely, how could I deny?” He answers, leaving one last final nibble on your shoulder. He gets up without a warning, and you whine pathetically. “Jus’ takin off my pants sweetheart. Can’t put my dick in you if it’s still covered.”

You watch him pull down his pants, teasing you as it makes its way down his torso, his treasure trail, the v-line, you start drooling the moment his cock pops out. You figured he was big from his bulge pressed against you, but the material was apparently holding him back from his true length. You spend a good minute staring at it, how pink the head is, how thick he looks, it made you nearly feral.

“Enjoying the show?” Eddie asks. You glance back up at his face, heating up when you realize you've stared a lot longer than planned.

“Mmmhmm.” You tell him, not seeing any need to deny.

He lurches forward onto the bed, yanking giggles out of you. His hands roughly move up your torso to take your dress off, moving it over your head. He throws it over his shoulder, eyes raking in your tits like they’re in the Louvre. Hell, he’d take a polaroid and hang it there, despite the risk of security arresting and escorting him out immediately after.

“You are fucking gorgeous, baby.” He mutters, leaning into one of your tits mouthing at the nipple delicately, grazing it with his teeth, turning the mound into a shade of purple.

You can’t help yourself, reaching down to grab his cock. “Need you in me.” You urge him, smiling when he lets out a surprised whimper.

“Fucking—” he stutters out, biting on his lip. “Yeah, yeah, okay. I can do that.” He laughs, and before you have a moment to admire how adorable that was, you feel him line himself up. “Shit, you’re fucking tight.”

You can feel exactly what he means, the head barely pushing in. Even with how wet you are, Eddie's having difficulty pushing into you. Your mouth drops open, panting through it at the blinding pain and pleasure. He pauses, giving you a moment to adjust. “Feels so goddamn good, Ed.” You gasp, blindly reaching for him.

Blindly, because your eyes are unable to stay open from the sheer pleasure that has taken over your body.

“I know, baby I know.” He whispers, holding one hand to your face.

“Ok.”

He pushes in more, eliciting a high-pitched whine out of you. “You have any idea how fucking hot those little noises that you make are?” He asks, his voice husky and strained.

You laugh at his successful attempt at flattery, causing him to whine at the way your pussy tightens around him in sync. “Keep going.”

He pushes in a little bit more, your legs tensing around his torso as the noise caught in your throat is even louder. “You’re taking me so well, baby, what a good girl.” You tighten up at his praise, provoking Eddie to get the idea that praise is something that you desire. “Oh, you liked that, didn’t you, my good girl?” You tighten around him again, Eddie twitching in you as a response.

“More.” You manage out, your voice guttural. He pushes in just a little bit more. “Oh my god, you’re in my fucking stomach, so fucking deep!” You whine, eyes closed as you pulse around him.

“Just a little bit more, baby. You’re doing so well, such a good girl.”

“More.”

He pushes the rest of his cock in, finally able to rest his body on yours. You take your time adjusting to his size, inhaling, and exhaling with purpose as the pain subsides. “That’s a girl, take your time.” He mutters, watching you carefully.

“Kiss me please.” You whisper, opening your eyes to face the intensity radiating from his chocolate brown ones. He leans in for a lush kiss, your legs wrapping around him to pull him in tightly. His hand moves to your tit, playing with the nipple between two of his fingers. Your tongues meet, somehow knowing exactly what the other needs. “You can move now.” You whisper in between kisses.

Eddie, apparently a master at multitasking, lifts his hips without so much as stuttering in the kiss. You expected him to stop, but the new mix of sensation throws you off intensely. His first thrust causes you to shout directly into his mouth. You’re much more prepared for the second thrust, however unprepared for the force behind it. “Yeah?” He asks, pulling back and staring into your eyes.

You nod enthusiastically. “So good. Cock feels…so good.” You whine to him, legs unable to continue holding onto him as tight as they were. Now they’re floating in the air aimlessly, unable to focus on much except for how good and how deep he is. “How…this good?” The question you meant to ask was how he was so good at fucking like this, but your mouth was unable to form a single coherent sentence.

“Barely been in you for a minute, and you’re already cock-drunk, huh?” He borderline mocks you, fucking you faster with each thrust.

You grunt in response, fully accepting the label of cock drunk. “So…good, Eddie!” It’s just…fucking true, which is the only rational thought in your brain for the moment. Others are So Hot, and Big Ass Cock, and finally, Gorgeous fucking body.

“Your pretty pussy is so tight, baby, bein’ such a good girl for me.” Eddie sits up, pulling your ass down to where he can fuck you in a better position where he can hit your g-spot. He rests a hand sideways on your lower tummy, putting slight pressure on it. This sends a blinding hot pleasure into you as he repeatedly hits that spot.

“F-fuck, get-getting cl-close…” you stutter, feeling your tits bounce at the sheer force he's fucking you with.

“This is fucking embarrassing, but so am I, baby.” He mutters, starting to go at a faster rate, which you would've deemed impossible a few seconds ago. “Your pussy is so fucking good, can’t fuckin’ help myself.”

You half giggle, half moan at the flattery, not minding for one moment that he would cum so quickly. After all, he spent the first half paying most of his attention to you, so you understand if he's been pent up. While that is the reality of why, you can’t help but feel like hot shit for making someone as fantastic as Eddie cum so fast. His stamina and willingness to give on top of how gorgeous he is does nothing but boost your ego.

“Cum with me.” You beg him, also on the edge. “Cum in me.”

“Oh my god—” you make his hips stutter, and you smile with pride. “You sure, baby?” He asks, trying to make sure he covers his tracks.

“Cum in me, please, daddy!” It leaves your mouth before you’re unable to stop it, the daddy kink not quite something you break out on the first fuck most of the time.

Eddie, however, is a different breed. He meets the unexpected outburst with a growl, and you swear his cock twitches inside of you. “Of course, baby girl, whatever you want.” He grunts out. “Daddy is gonna fill you the fuck up.” He lurches forward so he’s skin on skin with you again so he can whisper in your ear. “When we go back downstairs, I’m gonna keep your panties, and you're gonna dance with my cum dripping down your fucking legs.” You tighten up around him, telling Eddie this is exactly what you wanted from him. The sweet mixture of praise and degradation makes your head spin with need. “You like that, huh? Of course, you’d like that you fucking slut.” His hips rut harshly against yours and at a stupid crazy speed. “If I catch you trying to clean yourself up, you’re gonna fucking hear about it, got it?”

You nod, entirely thrilled about this.

“Didn’t fuckin hear you, slut.”

“Got it, daddy.” You answer, right on the edge.

“You gonna cum with me, baby girl?” He asks, his voice strained.

“Mmhmm. Waiting for you.”

“Good fucking girl. I’m so close…fuck…gonna—” Eddie is interrupted by his own orgasm, which sends you over the edge with him. It’s not as intense as your last one, so you’re able to pay extra attention to the look on his face. His mouth half open, a deep moan leaving his throat. Oh god, you’ll definitely be remembering this next time it’s only you and your imagination.

He collapses on you, his chest and forehead covered in sweat. The only sound in the air is you and Eddie catching your breath together. Your breath is finally back in your lungs, but your heart is still racing against his chest. He suddenly sits himself back on his forearms, petting at your forehead and hair gently. “Fuck, please go out with me on Saturday.” He whispers, quietly assessing the expression you wear on your face.

“Huh?” You ask him, unsure you heard him correctly.

“Go out with me on Saturday. Please, I can’t fuck a pussy this good and not take you out on a hot date.” He mutters softly, placing the gentlest of kisses on your lips.

“If you think I’m letting you go after this, you’re fucking insane.” You whisper back, framing his face to grab it for another lush kiss.

Eddie sighs, petting your hair. “Thank fucking god.” He pulls out of you, tugging a whimper out of you. He gives one last kiss, before moving down your torso. You almost ask what he was doing, when you feel two of his fingers push inside you quickly.

Your head jerks up, wondering what in the ever-living hell he's doing.

“Just helping by pushing the cum back in you, baby. Wanted to give you at least a fighting chance before it starts dripping down these stunning thighs of yours.” He places a wet kiss on your thigh, one last quiver radiating through it. “You good to stand up?”

“Hope so.” You laugh, scooching your ass down the plain comforter. Eddie tosses you your dress and gets dressed back into his cheap costume himself.

You assess Eddie, fixing his hair so he doesn’t look so disheveled. “You realize my lipstick is all over your neck and face, right?” You ask him, assessing him in all his post-nut glory. How the fuck is anyone this hot?

“Didn't I tell you earlier that I'm gonna wear this shit with pride, darlin?” He asks you, giving you a smile that makes you melt. “Wanna go downstairs and make-out on Steve's dad’s stupid chair?”

“If we make out I might wanna blow you.” You admit, the effects of the alcohol and the level of his hotness has still completely taken over your brain.

Eddie groans, and you swear his pupils dilate. “Fuck, I’ll take you into the nearest hallway closet if that happens, then you can get on your knees and suck my cock off like a good girl. You just tell me, yeah?”

You giggle as he opens the door and you nod enthusiastically, pretty much already in your head that hooking up with Eddie is nowhere near done.

When you reach the bottom of the steps, Eddie tugs on your hand straight to the leather chair in the corner, having you sit across his lap as his tongue makes its way down your throat again.

Eventually, after a mere ten minutes of teasing, Eddie has to lead you to a hallway closet, where yes, you worship him on your knees with his treasure trail meeting your nose.

That was the best fucking Halloween, ever.

Thank you so much for reading! I love to read your comments, replies, and reblogs. As always, reblogging is the best way to support your fic writers on tumblr.

Taglist: @pinkcowracing @yourthebrokengirl @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovley @josephquinnschesthair @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you @names-were-taken @oddussy420

#eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader

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princessbrunette · 10 months

Note

I love stepbro!jj, what about step sis asking jj to help her cum because she just can’t get the write angles :(

HELPING HAND ♡

tryin something new n decided to be less lazy with my writing and presentation. ♡

CW: step-cest, tiny bit of faux-cest if you blink i think ?? this is dark content technically, do not interact if that’s not ur thing. aside from that, usual warnings such as smut and mentions of past family issues. proceed with caution ❀

You loved when JJ came home.

It was simple, something he did everyday — well, most days atleast if he wasn’t off on some grand adventure you’d hear about a few days later, curled up to his side on the couch digging your toes into his thigh and begging him for details.

Anyway, JJ was different when he’d come home. Not like himself in the morning, running around frantically always half way out the door, still pulling up his pants holding the bagel you had put in the toaster between his teeth, ruffling your hair as he passes you as an apology for stealing your breakfast.

JJ when he came home was calmer. Not always super tired, just… done with the day, happy to be home, happy to see you. He was still warm from the sun, despite it having gone down hours ago, and always smelt like salt water still from being in and out the ocean all day. He’d wear a lazy dopey smile, dropping down on the worn leather of the couch beside you, spreading his arms along the back of it.

Today was different, and you wanted to be your usual silly and playful self with him, chatting until it gets late, your mother passed out asleep and his father taking a night shift up on the pier, a job JJ thinks he’s lucky to have talked himself into, yet pleasantly surprised he’s kept it up this long. Nights like these, your chatting would turn to playful wrestling, any excuse to get your hands on eachother and then a few guilty, chaste kisses once he’d inevitably pinned you. You weren’t in your usual mood however.

He hadn’t touched you in a while, not like that anyway. The glossy, pearl pink of your nail had been chipped off from your incessant nibbling, anxious thoughts swirling your mind regarding whether JJ had come to his senses, realising he shouldn’t be helping his little step-sister like this, and he’d rather just pretend it didn’t ever happen. God, had he spoken to someone about it? Been guided out of your needy hands? Your wondering had lead you to pull away slightly, not seek out his help like you so badly wanted to, trying to please yourself the way he did, attempting to remember the exact way he curved his fingers against your squelchy spot.

But your fingers weren’t long like his, and no matter how far you bent your wrist it just wouldn’t crook up to the angle you needed— and you didn’t even wanna get started on your lack of coordination in rubbing your clit at the same time, it was all too much for your hazy little head, and after pretty much working yourself to tears you’d resorted to huffing, pulling up your pyjama shorts and going to sulk on the couch in the dark, room lit up by old Spongebob re-runs.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes when JJ came home, and you wasn’t sure why. Well, you were — you were in a foul mood, and him walking through the door all warm and smiley and devastatingly charming just made you throb harder, clenching hard enough that you could crush a fuckin’ walnut in there. His dumb little sleeveless shirts and shorts and backwards red cap smushed over an abundance of sun-bleached hair. He didn’t even try, he just woke up and looked like that. It was twisted. How dare he.

“No ‘hello’? Y’know, you’re too pretty for all that pouting. Wanna talk about it? Talk to Papa J?”

He’s already teasing you, it’s like he knew. He flops down onto the couch next to you, leather covered couch cushions hissing under his weight, stretching himself across the space like he usually did. You wanted to crawl into his lap and rock against his dick and have your tongues wrap around eachother, but he wasn’t your boyfriend. He was your step-brother, you both needed to resist for a painful amount of time before you gave in, to prove to yourselves you were good, normal people. You didn’t see the point, you’d said it once and you still thought it— JJ was just bein’ a good big brother, helping you out when you need him so desperately. However, the denial of your shared feelings had become routine, and if it’s what it took for JJ to give in and help you, you were happy to play ball.

“S’bad JJ, I shouldn’t say. Doesn’t matter anyway.” You all but huff, turning back to the TV. Your lashes flutter a little when he urgently shifts closer, tilting his head trying to gauge your expression. You kind of wanted to smile, you liked that he cared.

“Wh- yes it matters. Is someone bothering you?” Yes. You. A tidal wave of warmth brushes over your arms, stomach curling tightly in on itself at the thought of JJ being protective over you, teaching someone who was being mean to you a lesson. You bite your lip, and when you turn to look at him again he’s closer than he was before, brow creased waiting for you to speak.

You look at him, look at that little cut on his lip. The graze on his cheek. Wonder how it happened. You exhale slowly through your nose, brows furrowing and you blink a few times as you gather your thoughts. He thinks it’s cute when you do that.

“No one is bothering me. I just… I haven’t been able t’do what you did. As good as you did it.” You slowly spell it out, not wanting to say any of the crude terms, or even specifically have to own up to what you wanted. You said a millisecond-long prayer in hoping he would simply understand what you meant, but when you’d lifted your gaze back up to the blonde boy after shyly staring at your chipped nail polish, he was squinting one eye at you, mouth a little gaped.

“Yeah, uh— y’gonna have to be a touch more specific than that, honey. Know I’m a genius, but I ain’t a mind reader.” He leans back into the couch, relaxing once you told him no one was picking on you.

You clench your fist in your lap, looking up at the ceiling in despair as if the answer to your problems was up there. You drop your eyes back to JJ, the cause and true answer to your problem and brace yourself. “I haven’t been able to… touch myself as good as you did it to me. Tried all night Jayj, even started crying ‘cos I couldn’t do it right. Just feel all… empty since we last did it.” Your bottom lip pushes out and you curl your legs up so you could wrap your arms around them, physically making yourself as small as possible seeing as you’d wanted to disappear into the couch in that moment.

For once, JJ is lost for words.

You can’t handle the silence as he stares at you, contemplating his next action. So, you speak again. “Sorry Jayj… j’st need you to do everything for me.” You look so pitiful, it’s sweet in a kicked puppy kind of way. He’d like to consider himself a helpful kinda guy, infact he knew he was— he wouldn’t be in half the shit John B dragged him into every single day if he wasn’t constantly putting his ass on the line to help him. This was no different, this was risky. He could break up a happy family, ruin things for his dad if he got caught doing this. God, he’s such a troublemaker it made him want you more.

“Look,” He speaks, closing his eyes and fixing his hat on his head. He speaks your name softly and it just sounds better on his tongue than anyone else’s. You squish your thighs together, preparing to be shut down. Your face is all pained, and he realises you’ve come to him practically begging him to touch you because you’re hurting without him. His dick jumps in his shorts. “I’ve been tryin’ t’do the right thing. Y’know? S’not easy. When you walk around looking like that. Looking at me like that. You think I haven’t been thinking about the last time we—” He cuts himself off with a sigh, scrubbing a hand down his face. Was he mad? Your brow creases even more and he thinks you might cry, so he scoots back up to you, draping an arm round you like you’re just a kid who’s being comforted after a scolding. “It’s really that bad?” He tongues at the cut on his lip. You nod, feeling sorry for yourself and he exhales slowly out his nose. He thinks for a bit, and then just stares at you for a while. He think he might even kiss you, but then he speaks. “Lie back.”

You’re happy as a clam when you scoot back on the couch, happy you’re getting some special attention from your step brother. “Oh yeah, all smiles now huh.” He tsks playfully. You lean your back against the armrest, bringing your knees up and spreading your legs just a little. He rubs his hands over his face again in preparation before he turns his body to face you, immediately dropping down his gaze to see the wet patch in your shorts.

“Lord have mercy.” He shakes his head, a hand pressing thoughtlessly to the back of your thigh, spreading you wider. “Whyyyy do you do this to me?” He sighs under his breath, ever so casually pressing a thumb between your clothed folds, fat lips swallowing the fabric of your shorts. You suck in a breath, and release it with a whimper and his eyes leave your crotch to look at you analytically as you do so. “Jesus, alright. Take these off.” he taps the side of your hip, signalling to your shorts and you wriggle out of them, unsure what to do with them so you clutch them between your hands by your stomach. He swipes them from your hold and throws them over his shoulder, busying himself with slotting a couch cushion under your lower back. “Wont be needing those.”

“JJ, might need them incase someone comes in!” You whine, but he ignores you, stroking your thighs and squishing the dough of them, spreading your legs to witness your glossy, honeyed treasure between them.

“If someone comes in, we’re screwed as it is, shorts aren’t gonna save you.” He murmurs, adjusting himself in his pants, rock hard already. “Show me what you were doin’ and I’ll uh, I’ll try and teach you, yeah.” The blonde tried to keep his voice level, feeling better about himself if he kept this purely educational, just helping you learn your downstairs a little better.

You resist a whine, face already hot in embarrassment from asking. He watches your painted toes curl into the couch cushion, knees knocking together as you suck on your bottom lip shyly. “It’s okay, c’mon pop ‘em open again. Not like I haven’t seen it all before.” He cooes, coaxing you with a hand on your knee. You spread your legs, bringing your fingers to your lips and suckling on the tips, getting them nice and wet. You had to be doing it on purpose, this innocent act wasn’t gonna hold up much longer if you kept staring at him with those sweet doe eyes and pouty lips.

“Started like this…” You lower your fingers with a frustrated pout, dragging them down to your clit and jolting slightly when your fingers brush it, sensitive. JJ practically salivates at the reaction, watching you like a hawk, looming over you. He thinks back to the first time he touched you down there, and you got all choked up because it was too sensitive and you got all overwhelmed, clawing at his hand and saying it was too much. He recalls having to calm you down with kisses and tell you to just relax and let it happen. He’s been with quite a few ladies over time, whether it be at pogue parties, ex flings or FWB’s— none quite as sensitive as you though. None quite lovable as you either. He can’t believe he’s thinking that.

He watches you pant, his coarse fingers stroking your leg whilst you grind away at your clit, focused and letting out sweet little squeaks in response. “Pretty girl, aren’t you? Man, you’re so worth all the trouble.” He speaks quietly, intimately. You felt special when he spoke like this, never a time where JJ isn’t revelling in his bravado, loud and jokey, forever performing to deflect from his issues. You got calm JJ, intimate JJ, your very own.

You were already making a mess of yourself, so it didn’t take long until your fingers were curling down toward your hole, spreading your folds as you pushed them downward. You wasn’t too sure if that was for your pleasure, or for JJ’s view but it made you feel good regardless. You sink a finger in, eyes flitting up to watch your step-brothers reaction, clenching around your single digit when his eyes leave your pussy to look straight into yours. “There y’go.” He hums, and you get to work.

He see’s your frustration around 15 seconds in, when you just can’t get the right angle. You fidget, moving your wrist about, tilting your hips up a little— but after a while all you can do is let out a sad whine, looking to JJ for help. He gives in hilariously fast. “Okay, alright, lemme do it.” But he doesn’t start without gently taking your wrist and bringing your fingers to his mouth, briefly sucking off any remnants of you lingering on your wet fingers. “Real sweet, just like I remember.” He muses, making you trickle out more arousal from the way you clenched around nothing.

His breath catches in his throat when he slides his fingers up and down your folds, spreading them and taking the sight of you in. It wasn’t until you spoke up with a pained “Please!” that he swivelled his hand around, fingers pressing against your wanting hole.

“Lemme in, pretty. Thats it, g’nna need you to relax just a little, yeah?” He pushes a finger in and even then you feel the stretch, much bigger than your finger— and you still weren’t used to it. “Thats my girl.” He lets slip, and his eyes flicker to yours guiltily at the sentiment, only to see your brows pinched and jaw slightly agape, ruined cunt fluttering around his finger. “T’aww.” He cooes quietly, returning his eyes to the task at hand.

He lets the ball of his hand smush to your clit so you can grind on it, and at the feeling your knee jerks up a little, letting out a pleased yelp of surprise. “Shh, shh, shh.” His brow creases, a free hand holding your knee to keep you open. “Just take it baby, there you go.” He was really getting into it now, his pupil swallowing his eye, something darker about the way he stared at you in the dim light of the living room. He slides in another finger, and the coil in your stomach is already starting to tighten.

“A-already g’nna cum soon, Jayj!” You whine and he grins like an old happy dog, the brink of a laugh, wide lipped and toothy.

“Thats the point, right?” He teases, but you don’t take him in, eagerly humping your hips up into his hand, small and needy ‘please!’s spilling from your mouth. “What’ja need? I’m right here, babe.” His free hand strokes your waist now, thumb sliding along your skin to soothe you, possibly keep you quiet and calm.

“Closer.” Your lashes flutter, tears welling beneath them making the dark clusters kiss at the corners, bonded by the shimmering drops threatening to fall. “Want you closer.” You’re looking— no, staring at his mouth and he knows what you want specifically. He doesn’t care anymore, what’s a little kissing between step-siblings? Suppose it doesn’t matter when his fingers are buried into your cunt collecting a pearly ring around his knuckles.

“C’mere, sweetheart.” He grits his teeth, fingers going at your more vigorously once he leans over you, simply breathing hot air onto your lips for a moment before pushing his own against yours. You feel the cut on his bottom lip skim yours and instinctively your tongue lulls out to lick it, wanting to taste anything he had to offer. You felt depraved, your shame quickly fleeting as JJ drew you closer to your orgasm. You feel so dirty when you suck on his tongue, just the way he taught you last time, eliciting a groan from deep in his throat. God, you wanted him deep in your throat, wanted to taste him everywhere, devour everything he had to offer. How could you go from a naive young girl who knows nothing of intimacy to this little desperate slut all from a few kisses and JJ’s magic fingers (As he so charmingly named them) You were starting to think it was in you all this time.

“Good girl. Can feel it comin’, just gotta let it go n’relax. M’here now.” He groans into your mouth, fingers brushing that soft gooey spot deep in your core making you cry out. He had to pacify you with more kisses, wondering what it would take to get you over that finish line. He stalls, leaving gentle kisses across your jaw as you mewl, trying to find the right words to say. He knew it was words you needed, preening and practically folding in half for him anytime the blonde directed any praise towards you at all, even as simple as a “Good job!” in a day to day basis.

It was risky, but he thought he’d try something kind of sick. Test the waters a little.

“Gotta stay quiet, baby. Don’t wanna wake up your mom now do you? Probably better off no one sees your big brother helpin’ you get that pretty pussy off, huh?”

You’re clenching so hard it nearly pushes his fingers out. God, you’re both sick.

Just like that, you’re gushing, sweet moans and hiccups swallowed by JJ’s desperate mouth as he silences you by force, letting you ride out that orgasm you so desperately needed. “I know, I know, you’re alright.” He cooes as you do so, dropping kisses in where he can because he know the moment to do so will be gone soon enough, and the guilt will kick in. For now though, he enjoys the moment, enjoys the closeness, and for a second — he can pretend you’re all his, his girl — and not a step-relative. It makes his heart clench.

#anon #jj maybank smut #tw stepcest #stepbro!jj #jj maybank x reader

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honeytae · 9 months

Text

the right choice - jk

pairing: college student! jk x college student! oc

genre: fluff, friends to lovers/mutual pining

summary: for as long as you’ve known jungkook, you would think that you’ve witnessed all sides of him. but when you notice the way he’s looking at you right now, you think you may be wrong about that.

warnings: loosely based off the song yes or no, mutual pining but they’re both so clueless, IT’S SO OBVIOUS, it’s finals season so OC is stressed tf out, this jk is such a boy but he’s so sweet, he calls her pookie, OC is affectionately fed up with him but oh well, there’s a santa hat appearance, the tats and lip piercings are here to stay, vulnerability grosses the OC out, hand holding is the norm, SUSPENSE, kissing, teeny tiny bit of making out at the end

word count: 4.6k

the air in your dorm room is uncharacteristically quiet. you can almost feel that the peace won’t last long in your bones, especially with your best friend jungkook sitting a mere foot from you.

jungkook was known as the most extroverted introvert on campus. quiet at first, but once you made it into his inner circle, you were in for endless spur-of-the-moment spontaneity and long nights full of utter chaos. for now, though, you enjoy the comfortable, delightful silence in the otherwise overstimulation of your brain.

unsurprisingly, the silent scrolling of your thumb along your phone screen is soon interrupted by an oversalted pretzel smacking you on the knuckle, sadly falling to your bedspread.

“ew, jungkook!” you whine, retrieving it from your duvet cover and swiping the salt grains off the previously clean fabric. you shoot a warning look at the man sitting opposite you on your bed when he dares to snicker while watching you clean his mess.

“are you twelve?” you ask while popping the pretzel into your mouth, jungkook smirking as he leans forward to rest on his elbows

“you love it,” he grins, wiggling his eyebrows to get you to crack a smile.

“yeah, whatever,” you relent, sliding your phone into your hoodie pocket.

it’s almost like any other tuesday you two spent in your dorm. the only difference is that you have nothing but time since classes are canceled with the impending blizzard outside. there is a uniquely calming air with no assignments forcing you to sit at your desk and keep you there the rest of the night.

you set your chin in your hand as you gaze out the window, the sound of jungkook’s foot repetitively tapping on your bed frame fading into the background as you watch the flurrying snow catapulting down to whichever surface it finds first. it’s funny, you think. you used to love the snow as a kid, count down the days until the next snowstorm struck. but then you got old, you suppose; it became a stressor for you, another thing you had to deal with rather than indulge in.

“hey, what’s up with you today?”

you blink a few times after registering jungkook’s voice closing in on you, finally breaking eye contact with the window and glancing over at your inquisitive friend.

you barely suppress a snort when you realize he has a Santa hat on his head, when the fuck did he acquire that?

but as usual, it’s a ploy to get you to break a smile, and it works.

“am i acting weird?” you wonder, shifting forward so you can smack the fur ball at the end of his hat, the impact making it lay over his other shoulder. you barely stifle a laugh at the abruptness of the action, jungkook overdramatically cocking an eyebrow at you as you pet it down the right way again.

“you’re just,” he waves his hands around, gesturing wildly in an attempt to convey what he can’t verbally, “distant, i guess,” he settles on.

you suppress a smile at his struggle to express himself, an oddly charming trait you’d gotten to appreciate over the time you’d known him.

“sorry koo. i’m just a little out of it, i guess. i haven’t had much of an attention span since finals started,” you sigh, jungkook humming to himself before curling his lips up to touch his nose. it was a quirk of his you’d noticed years ago, one that meant he was thinking. it had you equally excited and terrified at the same time, because jungkook’s ideas were never… simple.

you raise your eyebrows as you watch him stand up from his seat on the end of your bed, making his way across the room and collecting his coat and yours from the hooks on your door.

“what are you doing?”

jungkook doesn’t answer you with words, instead, he just drops your coat beside you and quickly starts digging in your closet to toss you a hat.

“if you make a mess in that closet, you’re cleaning it,” you remind him, rolling your eyes at the immediate clatter noise punctuating your words.

“oops,” he mumbles, standing up and waving you off before you can say anything else. “it’s fine, i put everything back!”

you don’t fully believe him, but you know he has more respect for you than to leave your closet a complete disaster, so you hope for the best.

“if you say so,” your voice ends on a higher note, giving away your skepticism as you roll the hat on over your head.

“to answer your question, we are getting out of here for a while,” he finally explains the sudden transition from your lazy day, “you’ve been studying way too hard. you’re literally smarter than most of the class, you have no reason to stress out as much as you do about this stuff,” he shrugs, and you try to ignore the way his words make your chest warm. it’s nice to hear it once in a while, you suppose.

“should we even be going out there? there’s an advisory out for like, the whole area,” you gesture out the window where the snow billows on, staring at jungkook as he holds out your jacket for you to put your arms into.

you do, hesitantly. he does the same, stating “we’ll make it quick, don’t worry,” leading you to the door where you both step into your boots.

your lazy afternoon is evident by both of your sluggish movements. despite the heaviness of your limbs, you feel a certain buzz whenever jungkook hatches an idea. you always, always have fun with him, no matter what’s on the agenda.

today is a rare day where school and work aren’t interfering with your respective schedules, the first one in about a month. you feel a little guilty about that, to be honest.

admittedly, you sometimes get so in your own head that it becomes easy to forget about calling or texting. luckily for you, jungkook is pretty good about staying in touch. he almost always stops by on his way home from class to give you snacks to get you through your night lecture, he sends you stupid memes at all hours of the night to remind you of your synched sense of humor, and makes a habit of facetiming you whenever he witnesses something so cool you just had to see it too.

spying him out of the corner of your eye, the fondness melts right off your face when you realize he’s still adorning that dumb santa hat. his hand extends to the door handle, and your eyes widen in panic as you say his name.

“hold on,” you said, reaching out for the door, “i am not stepping out with you in this hat,” you gesture to the red monstrosity covering jungkook's head.

“what? no way, the hat is staying,” he reaches for the door again, unbothered and ready to step out before you slap your hand against the door.

“jungkook, please,” you begged, staring into his twinkling eyes as he laid his hand over yours on the door handle, an impromptu staring contest starting between you two.

ah, yes. another thing that bonded you and jungkook was your stubbornness. neither one of you settled without a good fight.

“i am not leaving here until you take that hat off. also you need to promise me we aren’t doing anything illegal,” you extend your pinky with a determined knit of your eyebrows.

“i pinky promise,” he grins as he lazily bends his pinky around yours, “but the hat stays on, pookie.”

“okay then,” you act as if you are about to kick off your shoes as you walk back to your bed, grinning when you feel him wrap his arms around your waist to pull you back to him with a whiny “nuh uh!”

“yeah, huh! we are not walking around like santa and mrs. clause right now,” you huff, eyeing the way the hat sat on his head closer as you leaned back on his chest. you hate that he actually makes the hat work for him, but it doesn’t surprise you at all. on anyone else, it would look plain stupid. jungkook has the magic touch, though; every new style, hobby, and passion he tries looks good on him.

“fine, scrooge!” he relents, “but i get to walk you to the rest of your finals looking like this,” he poses, melting into a grin when you sigh in defeat.

“see! i can compromise,” he practically sings as he tosses the hat over to your desk, holding the door open for you and following you out into the hallway with a toothy grin that voices his triumph.

you shake your head in mock disappointment, unable to stop from grinning as you pat down your coat pocket to make sure you have your key with you before pulling the door shut.

“yeah, yeah. just don’t embarrass me in public today, you doofus.”

and he hasn’t, surprisingly. but by the time you get to your destination, which jungkook deemed top secret information, you are presented with another issue. the sun is now setting and the winds are starting to pick up at a brutal pace.

“this better be worth it,” you shiver, and you swear jungkook’s teeth are chattering beside you, but you honestly can’t tell with his puffer hood so far over his face and the pelting ice coming at you from all directions.

jungkook may respond but you don’t hear it, not when he grabs your hand and hisses at the nipping breeze, making the executive decision to lead you across the crosswalk to get into the parking lot.

when you finally look up from the ground, you squeeze his hand in excitement, spying a sign on the door with ‘Bakery & Cafe’ at the forefront.

jungkook eyes you when you uncharacteristically squeal, chortling to himself when you whisper an awe-struck, “heaven.”

“enjoy it, this is the only heaven you’ll get int- okay, okay!” he bellows out a belly laugh when you rip your hand from his and recoil it to your chest, letting him reclaim it with a huff.

“you know, sometimes i think you need a clamp on that mouth,” you purse your lips at your friend, who merely hums in response as he opens the door for you to step into the warm air of the cafe.

you both sigh at the contrast in temperature, shuffling further into the establishment to eye the menu.

“find a spot and i’ll order us some good shit,” he delegates, rolling his neck to look at you when you laugh through your nose.

“some good shit? i swear to god, you better not order the whole menu again. i got way too sick to even function last time we went out!” you remind him, jungkook grinning at the memory from last semester.

“hey, all that mattered was that you enjoyed it! trust me though, i wouldn’t do that to either of us again,” he says, your confused gaze softening as he lets his bottom lip protrude in a perfect pout. goddamn your best friend and his insane duality.

it was one of the things that intrigued you the most about him. your first impression of jungkook was that he looked scary, to be honest. the only color he ever wore back when you first met was black, he had a lip ring hooked over his bottom lip, and what looked like a skeletal hand tattooed on his forearm.

however, all of your expectations were proven wrong when you got paired to work with him on a project halfway through your first semester. he was softspoken and relatively reserved at first, but once you cracked his initial shyness, he laughed a lot…and in reality, he was insanely dorky.

“i was the one with the stomachache, koo,” you remind him, leaning against his arm as you waited for the person in front of you to finish ordering.

“yeah, but i had to go to class for a week without you! professor jung almost ate me alive,” he shuddered at the memory. you roll your eyes at his dramatics, directing them sideways to look at the man.

“anyways, i was just gonna order some hotteok,” he proposes nonchalantly, but it’s obviously feigned as he knows it’s one of your favorite snacks from childhood.

he smirks when you gasp and grip his arm, immediately bobbing your head in excitement.

“okay,” he grins, “i’m serious, go pick a spot. i’m paying tonight,” he wiggles his eyebrows, taking out a stack of cash from his latest weekend gig.

“wait, seriously? no way,” your brows knit together, taking a step back to eye him skeptically when he nods. “we always go halfsies. what did you do?”

he merely squints his eyes and shoves his shoulder into yours, instinctively reaching his arm around you when you sway with the force.

“i didn’t do anything. it’s christmas, stop questioning my kindness,” he sasses, pursing his lips as he crosses his arms stubbornly.

“oh!” you gasp, placing your hand over your heart, “in the spirit of christmas!” you can’t help the sarcasm dripping from your words, and jungkook can’t help the grin on his face from spreading wider by the second.

still, he rolls his eyes. “whatever dude, you suck,” he says, but his actions contradict his words when he reaches over to pick a stray string off of your hat that was annoyingly hanging over your nose.

with that, he moves forward to take his place in line, with you scooting off to find a window booth across the cafe.

when you’ve sat down and taken your bulky winter coat off, your gaze wanders out to the blistering snow again. you notice it’s coming down harder, and you can’t help but let your mind wander to your exams tomorrow, wondering if those would end up being canceled as well. it would be nice to get another day off with jungkook, you think.

you sit there for another few minutes before you are broken out of your finals trance once again when a mug is set down in front of you, sweet chocolate immediately filling your senses as you inhale the steam coming off the liquid inside of it.

“cocoa, too?” you smile, lifting the mug to observe the whipped cream melting further down into the cup.

“duh! now eat up,” he gestures to the steaming plate of hotteok in his hands, transferring it to the table as he takes a seat next to you.

you snort at the way he immediately digs into the sugary pancakes, eyes closing in satisfaction as his head bobs from side to side in approval at the taste. you love the way his nostrils flare and he almost looks angry when he thoroughly enjoys food.

“damn, these are good,” he voices his thoughts, both of you humming in unison when you take your first bite at the same time he takes his second one.

“no shit, i literally need this recipe,” you murmur, savoring the sweet spice of the cinnamon swirled through the pancake dough.

“you distract them and i’ll steal it,” jungkook responds through a mouthful of food, round cheeks lifting when you nod your head along to his plan.

“it looks like it’s getting worse out there,” he notes after a moment of silence. he notices your plate is empty and serves you another portion onto your side platter.

“okay, grandpa,” you tease, the man pulling a look of mocked offense as you continue, “if you recall, someone just had to pick today of all days to go on an adventure off campus,” you quipped, raising your eyebrows at the man as he smirked down at his own hot chocolate resting in his palms.

“and someone has to get you back safely too. so i’d appreciate if you enjoy what you can here and we can bring the rest back whenever you’re ready,” he purses his lips stubbornly, corners of his mouth turning upward when you roll your eyes despite taking another big bite of your snack.

when all is said and done and you are both slipping back into your winter gear, there is a noticeably significant amount of snow that has accumulated on the ground since you were last out.

“shit,” you say at the same time as you step outside the warm cafe, doom looming over you in the form of gray clouds unleashing a mix of snow and hail. you loop your arm through jungkook’s when you lose your footing on the slick pavement beneath you, cursing out of shock.

“aish!” he hisses at the vision of you nearly going down, gripping you tighter when you regain your balance. he struggles to hold onto the box of leftover hotteok for a moment, but ends up rebalancing it in his palm before anything disastrous can happen. and it’s for his own good. if anything happened to that hotteok, you wouldn’t be able to let it go for days.

“you good?” he checks, reaching to pull your hat further over your ears from where it had slipped up in your near fall.

“good,” you respond, “it’s definitely time to get home, though.”

somehow, you both navigate the rest of the parking lot without another fall. clinging onto each other, you make it to the cement which has luckily been treated already to be less slick.

other than the occasional curse at the wind and snow blowing into your faces, it’s quiet. the serenity and comfort you’ve been dreaming of the past few weeks.

you feel guilty for neglecting jungkook for this section of the semester, especially knowing he probably doesn’t even hold any resentment against you for it.

“hey, thanks for getting me out today,” you murmur, jungkook’s hum nearly silent with the pitch of the wind.

“thanks for letting me,” he responds quietly, “i know it wasn’t on your agenda for today.”

you shrug your shoulder against him, “you know how i get at this time of the year. worried about making the right choices.”

he nods, having witnessed the many dilemmas you’d had over your major with the difficulty of your classes.

“but i’m pretty much always up for anything you have planned,” you grin, knocking your shoulder into his playfully. you whine as he wraps an arm around your neck, bringing you in closer to him with a deep laugh.

shuffling along the sidewalk, the gravitational pull between you is so natural that you don’t even realize how close you’ve gotten. his arm is a comforting weight over your shoulders, his head dipped low to brace against the wind.

“i like it when you get spontaneous on me.”

you hear but don’t see the smile in his words, gripping onto him tighter when the wind whips at you again.

his cheek turns to the left and bumps against your own, and you both chuckle at the clumsy action.

you lift your eyes from the ground and over to him, your breath catching in your throat when you realize your noses are touching.

you’re closer than you’ve ever been before, and you realize you quite like this view of jungkook. you can see all of his tiny moles decorating his face, and you get a close-up of the scar along his cheek from when he and his brother got into a fight when they were kids.

for as long as you’ve known jungkook, you would think that you’ve witnessed all sides of him. but when you notice the way he’s looking at you right now, you think you may be wrong about that.

he’s looking at you like you put the moon in the sky, and all of a sudden you’re leaning into each other further. your eyes break contact when they flick down to his lips, something you’d only ever done in what you thought was your darkest dreams. you feel like you should do more logical reasoning in this moment, but your thoughts instantly slow down when his hand tentatively rests under your jaw, tilting your chin up and tilting his head to the side.

time seems to stop, and all of a sudden his lips press against yours and all the breath gets knocked out of your chest, gripping the rough material of his jacket to stabilize your spinning head.

and even though you’re certain it’s cold enough to get hypothermia and frostbite, you find yourself feeling a warmth spread from your chest to your fingers and toes.

kissing jungkook feels so right, which feels so morally wrong. he’s your best friend, your favorite person. you’ve promised yourself to not do anything to jeopardize what you two have, and yet everything is telling you to keep going. what is happening right now?

but then he swipes his tongue along your bottom lip and you open your mouth against him, and you swear your brain short circuits when his tongue meets yours. he tastes sweet from your treats back at the bakery, pulling you in for more. you wrap your arms around his neck and hear him let out a quiet hum, a sound that makes you tighten your grip on him.

he kisses you like he has nothing to lose. like someone who’s not only ready to risk it all on a bet but someone who is doubling down.

you eventually pull away to breathe, immediately regretting doing so when you’re met with ice pelting your face. jungkook winces when he sees the way you cringe, taking his gloved hand to rest it on your skin in an effort to protect it.

when you open your eyes again, there’s a look you’ve never seen in jungkook’s big brown orbs. they have a softness to them, which you soon realize is vulnerability. he’s always so calm, cool, and collected that you almost can’t believe you’re seeing him in another state.

his lips are still wet from your kiss, proof and evidence of what you two had just done.

“oh my god,” you murmur, taking a piece of his hair and removing it from its current spot draping over his eye.

and oh my god is right, because his brown eyes are sparkling at you right now and you swear he holds the entire galaxy of stars within them.

“would you cringe if i said that i’ve wanted to do that for a while,” he asks, grinning when you fake a gag.

“me too, or whatever,” you timidly admit after a moment, warmth instantly flooding to your cheeks when his face lights up in response, wrapping both arms around you with excitement.

“you like meee,” he sings, and his voice is so loud that you know a few people are turning their heads to look at the two of you.

your cheeks continue to burn up involuntarily, the impact of his words making you feel even more flustered.

“oh my god, be quiet!” you laugh, jungkook watching with amusement when you turn around to continue the brief walk up the path to your building. nevertheless, you slip your hand into his waiting palm, giving it a soft squeeze that he reciprocates.

you both quicken your pace when you see that someone is holding the door open for you, grateful you don’t have to dig in your pockets with your numb fingers for your key into the building.

one would think that an event such as kissing your best friend would make things tense. jungkook, however, seems to be in his normal state, singing a song you’re unfamiliar with as he escorts you through the threshold of your building.

walking through your dorm, nothing feels weird. surprisingly, you feel relief, like a huge burden has been lifted off your shoulders. you don’t know if it was the hotteok, or the man currently leading you back to your room that changed your demeanor today. but you had a feeling it was the latter.

the immature part of you dreads the moment you step into your dorm and have to talk about what happened and what it means for your relationship. you know your therapist would scold you, but you can’t help but feel like your first instinct is to tame the fire that kiss brought within you.

you’ve never known jungkook to be casual with anyone. he has a big heart, with a lot of love to share. still, you know you can’t expect any more than that spur-of-the-moment kiss from him. it just wouldn’t be fair to either of you.

before you can get any further inside your head, you’re brought down to earth by a squeeze of your hand and a soft call of your name. you realize you’re now in front of your door, jungkook leaning against the wall and looking at you fondly.

you stare back at him, realizing for the first time that he was just as deeply in his own head as you were. he wears his heart on his sleeve, and you can practically feel his insecurity radiating off of him in this moment. you hate it.

you press your thumb to smooth over the worried wrinkle between his eyebrows, the action inciting a sigh to escape his mouth.

“is this the part where you tell me to go home and fuck off, pookie?” he bites his lip and quirks an eyebrow, and you can’t help the way your eyes follow his mouth’s movement. his lip rings glisten in the fluorescent lighting of the hallway, and you smile, but give another roll of your eyes as you pull out your key card to your room.

you hear him snicker quietly beside you, the soft noise fueling the feelings you’re so accustomed to with jungkook. he always has loved the way he can make your eyes roll so easily, the little shit. you would never say it out loud, but secretly, you love it too.

his question still hangs in the air between you, but you love the art of suspense. plus, the way his bottom lip is trapped under his teeth right now is so attractive you wish you could frame it.

the high-pitched beep of your door followed by the unlatching of the lock is all the permission you need to end his misery. you pull him closer to you by the bottom of his jacket, guiding him back into your room and basking in the surprise evident across his features.

in that moment, you toss all your worries out the window and realize what you want in an instant. jungkook, who never fails to make you feel included. who takes care of you when you’re ill, who drives miles for you just to get that soft serve ice cream you crave on random winter nights.

you don’t know why you’ve tiptoed around this for so long.

but when your hands settle on the base of his neck once more, and you briefly feel his breath wash over you as he dips down to meet your lips for the second time, you know you’ve made the right choice.

butterflies erupt in your stomach when his hand goes to support the back of your head, and the kiss grows from one of a tender nature into a higher intensity that makes you cling to him. your head goes dizzy and your knees grow weak, his soft lips opening against you as his fingers massage needed relaxation into your head.

swallowing each other's breaths and noises when the kiss gets heated, you’re not even phased when jungkook clumsily drops the box of hotteok on your floor.

pulling back to admire the man, you smile when you realize he’s doing the same. his eyes bounce over your features, pressing his forehead to yours as you catch your breath to finally answer his question.

“quite the opposite, actually.”

#bts fanfiction #bts imagines #bts fluff #bts x reader #bts x oc #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook imagines #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook x oc

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lancermylove · 9 days

Text

Friday the 13th (HC)

Fandom: Obey Me

Pairing: Demons x gn!Reader

Warning: None

A/N: Hope no one is having bad luck today!

———————————————

Lucifer

Raises an eyebrow, unimpressed by the superstition.

"Humans have such odd beliefs. Why is the 13th considered so ominous?"

Lucifer points out that, as demons, they have encountered far worse things than bad luck on a specific date.

However, he still makes sure that the brothers don't cause any chaos that day to avoid trouble.

But he won't push you away if you want to cling onto him the entire day out of fear or just an excuse to cling to him. Though, he will pretend to be annoyed.

Mammon

He gets superstitious immediately and acts nervous the whole day.

"Oi! Don't jinx me like that! I’ve got bad luck without needin’ no special day for it!"

As an extra precaution, he avoids risky bets or get-rich-quick schemes on Friday the 13th. Not that he has much luck with those, to begin with.

He clings to you all day, hoping you will be his good luck charm.

Leviathan

Freaks out internally. "It’s like a real-life horror scenario!"

He thinks it’s a good idea to spend the day playing survival games because what better day to play them, right? Wrong. He gets freaked out even more than usual and ends up watching fluff-filled anime.

He refuses to leave his room unless you coax him out, worried something terrible might happen outside.

"If I hide here all day, nothing bad will happen, right? Right!?”

Satan

He finds it fascinating, especially the historical origins of the superstition.

Yes, he immediately goes to the library to look up the history behind Friday the 13th, quoting facts and dissecting the human psychology behind it.

"Ah, interesting. A combination of religious beliefs and numerology."

He doesn’t believe in it but might playfully tease you by saying, "Better watch out today and give you a long list of things to avoid, like walking on a crack in the floor or walking under a mirror. Oh, and remember not to spill salt or nap in front of a mirror.”

Asmo

Asmo thinks it’s cute that humans have such superstitions. But he personally has nothing to fear because he is too beautiful to experience unlucky moments.

"Friday the 13th? Please, darling, I’m always lucky!"

Instead, he uses the day as an excuse to pamper himself, saying it’s important to take care of yourself on a potentially unlucky day.

But if anything slightly bad happens, he’ll dramatically say, "It’s the curse of Friday the 13th!"

Though, he mostly says it to freak out some of the brothers (and you).

Beel

He didn’t care much about it but gets a little concerned when you bring it up.

"Does that mean bad things will happen today? Like the fridge being empty?"

If you even hint a yes as a joke, he will stock up on snacks just in case something bad happens. No "bad luck" is going to get in the way of him and his meals.

Other than that, he shrugs it off—demons deal with worse things every day. But if you are scared or worried, he doesn’t mind cuddling with you and eating snacks while watching movies the entire day.

Belphie

The Avatar of South laughs when you tell Jim about Friday the 13th. "Humans are so funny with their odd fears."

He sleeps through most of the day as usual, not concerned about bad luck.

"Wake me up if anything interesting happens on this unlucky day.” By that, he means he wants to see his brothers freaking out or having a dramatic moment because they think the day is affecting them somehow.

Diavolo

Absolutely fascinated by the concept. "A day of bad luck? How intriguing!"

He wants to learn all about it and might even ask if Devildom should create its own Friday the 13th holiday for fun.

Actually, the prince wants to go to the human realm to see the effects of the day firsthand, but he doesn’t dare to suggest it after seeing Barbatos glaring at him with a ‘don’t even think about it’ look.

Regardless, he is amused by the superstition and jokes around with everyone to avoid stepping on cracks or walking under ladders.

Barbatos

The butler finds it mildly interesting but completely dismisses it as a superstition.

"It is simply another day, my Lord. There is no reason to be concerned. The same applies to you, (y/n).”

You might catch him quietly ensuring everything runs smoothly that day, not because he believes in bad luck, but just to make sure nothing disrupts Diavolo's curiosity. And no, he will not allow the prince to escape his duties to venture into the human world.

If you believe in bad luck, Barbatos will give you a lucky charm. In reality, it’s nothing more than a random object - he just wants you to feel safe the entire day.

Mephistopheles

He scoffs at the idea and is condescending about it. "Humans and their ridiculous fears. What a trivial concept."

And if you show any concerns about the day, he will tease you for being superstitious and roll his eyes at you.

However, he might avoid doing anything important that day, secretly thinking it wouldn’t hurt to be cautious. Not that he will ever admit it.

"I’m not worried about Friday the 13th… but if you are, I suppose I can keep you company."

That’s his way of saying he will protect you if needed, but why put in a nice way when he can be himself?

———————————————

➣ Obey Me Masterlist: [1][2][3][4] ➣ Main Masterlist

#obey me #obey me swd #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #obey me belphie #obey me belphegor #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me mephistopheles

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reaper2187 · 5 months

Text

Regina george x masc reader

Regina George was the queen bee of North Shore High School. With her long blonde hair, perfect figure, and designer wardrobe, she was the epitome of popularity. She ruled the school with an iron fist, and no one dared to cross her. However, there was one person who dared to challenge her, and that was the new girl in town, Y/N.

Y/N was unlike any other girl at North Shore High. She had short hair, wore masculine clothes, and was not afraid to speak her mind. Her confidence and individuality caught Regina's attention from the first day she set foot in the school. But what really intrigued Regina was Y/N's complete disregard for her social status.

As Regina and her clique, the Plastics, watched Y/N from afar, they couldn't help but be curious about her. They had never seen anyone like her before. It was almost as if she didn't care about fitting into their high school hierarchy. And that's what made Regina want her even more.

One day, Regina decided to approach Y/N in the cafeteria during lunch. As she strutted over to her, all eyes were on the queen bee and the new girl. Y/N looked up and met Regina's gaze, not backing down or showing any signs of intimidation.

'Hey cutie, can I borrow your salt?' Regina asked, flashing her signature smile.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, unamused by Regina's flirting. 'Sure,' she replied, sliding the salt shaker over to her.

Regina smirked, taking note of Y/N's lack of interest in her charm. She sat down next to her and struck up a conversation, inundating her with compliments and trying to win her over. But Y/N remained unbothered, talking to Regina as if she was just another person.

After that lunch encounter, Regina found herself thinking about Y/N constantly. She had never met anyone who was so unimpressed by her status and beauty. It was a challenge that piqued her interest, and she was determined to make Y/N hers.

As the days went by, Regina continued to pursue Y/N, trying to get her to join the Plastics. She even set up a makeover session for her with her stylist and bought her designer clothes. But despite Regina's efforts, Y/N refused to conform to their standards of beauty and popularity.

Slowly but surely, Regina began to see the world through Y/N's eyes. She started to question why she felt the need to control and manipulate those around her. She had never truly been herself, always trying to fit into the mold of what society deemed as perfect. But Y/N didn't care about any of that, and it was refreshing to Regina.

One day, Regina invited Y/N to a party at her house. Y/N accepted, curious to see how the queen bee lived. As the night went on, Y/N found herself having a good time, despite the superficiality and drama of the party. But what really surprised her was when Regina pulled her aside and confessed her feelings for her.

'I know I can be a mean girl, but when I'm around you, I want to be better. You make me want to be a better person,' Regina said, looking into Y/N's eyes.

Y/N was taken aback by Regina's vulnerability, and for the first time, she saw the real person behind the queen bee facade. She couldn't deny her feelings for Regina either, and they shared a passionate kiss.

From that moment on, Regina and Y/N were inseparable. The Plastics were shocked when Regina announced that she was stepping down as queen bee and that Y/N would be taking her place. They couldn't understand why Regina would give up her power and popularity for someone like Y/N.

But Regina didn't care. She had found true happiness with Y/N. She no longer felt the need to be anyone else other than herself. And with Y/N by her side, she no longer craved the attention and validation of others.

As for Y/N, she had found love in the most unexpected place. She never thought she would fall for someone like Regina, but their love was undeniable. They were two individuals who had broken free from the confines of high school stereotypes and found solace in each other.

The once mighty queen bee and the rebellious new girl had defied all odds and created their own path. They didn't fit into any high school clique, but they found a home in each other's arms.

Years later, when they both looked back at their high school experience, they realized that it wasn't the popularity or the social hierarchy that mattered. It was the people who truly saw them for who they were and accepted them without judgement. And for Regina and Y/N, that person was each other.

#lesbian #wlw #wlw post #regina george x reader #regina george #regina george x fem!reader #reneé rapp x fem!reader #reneé rapp x reader #renee rapp #renee rapp x fem!reader #renee rapp x reader

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ronance4everbrainrot · 1 month

Text

Some even even more little descendants incorrect quotes with mostly Glassheart/CharmingHeart

(and other ships)

Chad: Adulting is hard.

Chad: How do I quit?

Chloe: Time travel.

Red: Die.

(sheesh. Also CHAD! HIII)

---

Chad: So you’re dating Chloe?

Red: What? No! I��m just buying them an accessory since they have terrible fashion sense.

Chad: That’s literally a wedding ring.

(To be fair. Maybe they don't have wedding rings in wonderland, and Red is genuinely just buying her accessories. But not because Chloe doesn't have style. She just wants to give Chloe stuff.)

---

Cinderella: Red, when’s your birthday?

Red: Why? So you can look up my natal chart? So you can figure out my weaknesses? So you can destroy me?

Chloe: …So we know when to wish you a happy birthday.

Chloe: You have some serious intimacy issues

(canon)

---

Chloe: You know, I really wish you’d just admit you made a mistake sometimes.

Chad, stirring their coffee: I prefer it with salt.

(he would never admit he's wrong. He'd just word his way around it)

---

Chloe: How stupid do you think I am?!

Dizzy: You really want an honest answer to that?

(Chloe is oblivious to her attraction to Red. Their fighting is actually flirting)

---

Chad: If you don't stop talking, I'm going to jump out of that window.

Chloe: ...We're on the ground floor.

Chad: I know but I want a dramatic exit.

(Go off drama king ✨)

---

Chad: Ow!

Dizzy: What’s wrong?

Chad: I have this weird pain right above my eyebrow.

Dizzy: It’s called a stress headache. I got my first one when I was four.

(canon. Also oof)

---

Computer: Please enter a password.

Chad: *types in Chloe*

Computer: Your password is too weak.

Chad: How fucking DARE YOU-

(Slay big brother. He knows what's up)

---

Audrey: Hey!

Chad: What do you want?

Audrey: Remember what we were talking about yesterday?

Chad: Nope.

(Yes king. Stand your ground. keep away from her)

---

Audrey: I'm not mean. Name one mean thing I’ve ever done.

Chad: When we were younger, you convinced me eggs weren't real.

Audrey: They're not.

Chad: Haha, very funny.

Audrey: I'm serious. Didn't you hear?

Chad: No... what happened?

Audrey: ...Why would you fall for this again-

(I think that's what they were talking about. And he's mad)

---

*The gang's thoughts on stabbing*

Audrey: Would never stab anyone.

Chloe: Would stab someone in retaliation.

Dizzy: Yells "I won't hesitate, bitch!" first.

Celia: Would stab without warning.

Red: Would stab as a warning.

Chad: It depends, I guess

(the charming siblings +cousin and their girlfriends)

---

Chloe, singing: I don’t want a lot for Christmas, there is just one thing I need—

Red: A family.

Audrey: A better love life.

Celia: Mental stability.

Dizzy: Money

Chad: *clueless* Bagels?

(... yeah-)

---

Chloe: Go to hell!

Red: Where do you think I come from?

(Wonderland basically is Hell with The Queen of Hearts)

---

Dizzy: You got a date yet Celia?

Celia: No...

Dizzy: Well you do now! Get your ass up and hold my hand!

(Slay ✨🙏. Which I had that confidence)

---

Dizzy: Hey Chloe, wanna third wheel on my date with Celia tomorrow?

Chloe: Sure.

Dizzy: Red! Wanna third wheel on my date with Celia tomorrow?

Red: ..sure, I gues-

Dizzy: Great! I've always wanted to go on a double date!

Red & Chloe: ...

Chloe: Dizzy...

(You'll thank her later, Chloe.)

---

Dizzy: I honestly feel like some of our conversations here are almost word-for-word accurate to the generator.

Celia: Yup.

Red: Maybe the generator is watching us.

Chloe: Wouldn't that imply this conversation will be added?

Dizzy: ...

Dizzy: Wait—

(Oh no. They found out! Got to run!)

---

Hope you liked it!

I ship Chad and Audrey as Exes

Also I want Chad and Chloe interactions in the next movie. Would love it if Dizzy was also there.

Anyway

Byeeee

#redcharming #rise of red #chloe charming #glassheart #charminghearts #princess red #red of wonderland #rise of red incorrect quotes #red of hearts #descendants 4 #chad charming #audrey descendants #celia facilier #dizzy tremaine #celia x dizzy

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indigosunsetao3 · 4 months

Note

"Don't you dare," you warn as you roll over on the towel to look up at Gaz. He's dripping wet after having just climbed out of the water, water pooling at his feet on the bow of the boat where you have set up camp. He smirks as he flicks water at you causing you to flinch and glare at him.

"You're going to cook," he admonishes as he moves to stand next to you, blocking your sun and dripping cool salt water all over you.

"That's the goal," you answer simply as you stretch back out on your stomach. "After the last trip to the mountains and I didn't feel my toes the whole time, I deserve a little baking time."

"I'm not going to deal with you complaining about sunburn for the next four days," Gaz says with a grin as he squats down next to you.

You tilt your head back up off your hands to look at him, squinting a bit at the sun behind his head. Each droplet of water that comes off his skin onto yours is a small pinprick of cold, enough to send goosebumps along your back.

"I put on sunscreen," you scoff. "I seem to remember you taking extra care in the application," you tack on with a grin.

His hands had wandered to more than just your back where you had asked for assistance. His fingers move to slide between your breasts and down your stomach before disappearing under your bikini. You had sweat off that whole first layer within twenty minutes without even making it out into the sun.

"When you're topless I have to make sure everything is covered," he says with a grin as his hand moves to slide down your bare back. Being on a boat, alone, in the middle of nowhere afforded you a bit more freedom.

"I think you would have done it even if I wasn't topless," you reason as you push up on your elbows to look at him. You notice how his eyes narrow in on the small glimpse you're giving him between your arms in this position.

"Can't be too safe," he argues as you laugh. "At least take a break," he reasons as he looks at your slightly flushed face.

"Fine," you say as he stares at you expectantly. You push back up on your knees and can't help but grin to yourself as his eyes track every single movement. How he pushes up onto his feet and extends a hand to you, yet his eyes never leave your body as he moves. "I guess I could use something to drink," you state as you take his hand.

He's not listening. His eyes are devouring you as he yanks you up effortlessly. You aren't much better though, your eyes roving over his chest and stomach where water is still glistening on his skin. How the sunlight catches droplets emphasizing the hard lines of his stomach and the soft curve of his biceps as he pulls you closer.

You step to him easily, shivering as his cooler skin connects with your overheated body. His hands are not shy as he grabs your hips and yanks you tightly against him. You let your hands slide up his chest, over his shoulders, and behind his neck, arching into him a bit.

He grins leaning down to kiss you, slowly letting his hands slide to your backside. You sigh into his mouth as he palms your behind, his fingers digging into the plush skin and tugging you to grind against him. You can feel his body reacting to yours pressing up against him, how your hot skin is like a match to his desire.

But the grin you feel against your lips is not that of need, but instead mischievous. And you know what he is about to do a split second before he does it. He had lured you in with his charm and goddamn abs like he always did; he knew your weaknesses too well.

You squeal as he picks you up effortlessly and takes two steps back to slip off the side of the boat. The fall is short but still enough to make your stomach swoop before you connect with the water. The temperature change makes you gasp into his mouth as he captures your lips again before you both sink below the surface.

Gaz keeps a tight grip on you as your feet gently collide with the soft sand. One of his hands at your back to keep you flush to him, the other on your leg. You let him guide the way as you gently hold at his neck before he kicks to propel you both back up. The water where you had anchored wasn't deep and you are back above the water a moment later.

"This is not what I had in mind," you say though you are laughing as you cling to him, kicking your legs lightly to help keep you afloat.

"Had to get you in the water somehow," Gaz answers lightly as he leans in to kiss you again. "Needed an excuse to rub you down all over again."

#call of duty fanfic #call of duty #kyle gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #the gift of gifs #answered asks

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adrinetteapril · 7 months

Text

Adrinette April 2024 is coming soon! We can't wait to celebrate these two lovebirds again! Major thank you as always to @chocoluckchipz for designing the calendar again this year! Send Lucky so much love!

Prompts were selected by the Adrinette April discord server! If you’d like to be part of prompt selection in the future, send @purrincess-chat a message for an invite!

If you would like to participate, just use the prompts above during the month of April and tag your submissions with #adrinetteapril2024 and/or @ mention this blog! To make things easier on the mods, please spell it adrinette for the sake of this event. Misspelled tags may lead to your submission being missed.

A few ground rules:

This is a salt-free event. This includes any harsh or negative critique of the show, characters, ships, fandom, or creators.

Please center your submissions around Adrinette. Each side of the love square has a designated month, and there will be plenty of opportunity to create content for the other sides of the love square soon.

For the purposes of this event, the Shadybug universe Adrinette is valid for submissions. Create all of the emo children content you desire.

NSFW is allowed, but please put it under a read more and tag appropriately.

If your submission hasn’t been reblogged within 48 hours of you posting, feel free to reach out via ask or message @purrincess-chat privately. The mod team will do our best not to miss anyone, but sometimes things slip through. Please be patient and respectful. We are not skipping anyone on purpose.

We can't wait to see all of your submissions for this year's event! Prompts are listed in order under the cut

Dating Sim

Truth or Dare

Virtual Reality

Passing Notes

Flirting

Red String

Shared Dreams

Soulmate Markers

Fantasy AU

Found Family

Made for Each Other

Reverse Crush

Sharing a Bed

Identity Reveal

Villains

What If

Future Plans

Confessions

Taking It Slow

Best Friends

Lucky Charms

First Kiss

In the Rain

Boyfriend and Girlfriend

Love Notes

London

Starlight

Wedding Dress

Safe

Emma, Louis, Hugo

#miraculous ladybug #adrinette #adrienette #adrinette april #adrinetteapril2024 #fandom events #adrien agreste #marinette dupain-cheng #love square #calendar

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clairewritesjjkxreader · 2 years

Text

Sukuna's Wife and Yuuji's Onee-chan (Sukuna x Reincarnated!Y/N) Part 2

Part 1

Several hundred years ago…

You adored autumn more than any other season. Leaves drying, flowers falling to the ground–you felt most alive surrounded by death.

“The leaves remind me of your hair,” you said to him, holding up a red maple leaf.

“You did not just compare me to a dead leaf.” He watched with crossed arms as you fiddled with the leaf before letting go.

“It’s a compliment. Though…I guess the maple is prettier,” you teased him. The rubiness of autumn maple was rich and with a charm incomparable to any flower.

He huffed.

You laughed a bit, though your giggles were covered up with coughing.

He strolled closer, wrapping a scarf around your neck, his large hands careful not to pull on your hair. “You love autumn but can barely stand the cold.”

You snuggled closer to his side, placing your ear close to his heart. “Then it’s a good thing I married you.”

***

Present day.

Yuuji was the single most precious person to you. He and old man Wasuke were more your family than the actual people who made you. When the toddler first grasped your finger, tightly and warmly, you swore that nothing else mattered in the world.

As the days passed and that little crybaby grew up into a taller crybaby, your sentiments only got stronger.

No one cared, no one mattered, not even yourself.

If anyone deserved to live a long, happy life, it was your sweet, salt of the earth Yuuji.

That’s why, after the man called Gojo explained everything: from curses and cursed energy to Yuuji’s fate after eating one of Ryomen Sukuna’s fingers, you found yourself getting down on both knees and laying your nose on the ground.

“Please,” you begged, “please spare Yuuji. If you need another host, then transfer Sukuna inside me and take me instead, but leave my brother alone.”

All three men were stunned.

Fushiguro reluctantly opened his mouth, “H-hey–”

“Nee-chan, get up.” Yuuji went to grab your shoulders, but he was taken aback when Gojo knelt down in front of you.

He hummed, before asking, “You sure are a good sister. You realize that you’re basically asking us to kill you?”

You said nothing as you kept your forehead on the ground.

“So that’s your answer.” Gojo crossed his arms and pretended to think.

“Darling.” Sukuna appeared on Yuuji’s cheek. He growled, “Get up. You shouldn’t be prostrating yourself in front of these scum.”

Gojo snapped his fingers. “Leave it to me, Y/N-chan!”

“Hey!” “Oy!”

Fushiguro and Sukuna chorused, “You’re not really dragging her into this, are you?” “You damn sorcerer, don’t you dare call her so intimately. Only I can–”

“Raise your head, Y/N-chan.” Gojo chuckled. “I’ll take care of you and Yuuji.”

Despite everything, Gojo needed to be sure of Itadori’s potential as a vessel, so he knocked the boy out and did the same to you before you could try to hit him.

“You’re not really thinking of using that woman as a vessel, right?” Megumi watched as his teacher held you in his arms. “And how do you even plan on transferring Sukuna into her?”

“Tell me, Megumi, do you want Itadori-kun to live?”

“Of course, I do.”

“How about his darling nee-chan?”

“Yes, but–”

“Sukuna cannot be trusted, but if he really does care for this girl then we can use that to our advantage, don’t you agree?”

Megumi couldn’t protest. He didn’t like the idea of getting civilians involved, but if he had to choose between two people and the rest of the world, then the answer was obvious.

The day Old Man Wasuke was hospitalized, you already took a leave of absence from college. Quitting your part time jobs and packing up your belongings took less than a day, and cutting ties with the rest of the world you knew was easy. You had no warmth for your colleagues, or your classmates, or the lonely old house you grew up in.

Sukuna was surprisingly quiet the whole ride to the high school, but when Satoru Gojo started flirting with you, an eye and mouth would open up on Yuuji’s cheek and demand he stay away from you.

“How dare you lay your filthy hand on my beloved–”

“You mad? What’re you gonna do from waaaay over there?” (You seriously started to worry about your brother’s safety while being protected by this moron.)

Yuuji was placed next to Megumi Fushiguro (a polite but reserved boy, you noted) while you were put in the girl’s dormitory, which was practically empty. Sukuna was vocal about “being left behind,” but Gojo was adamant about separating the boys from the girls like the rules state.

Lies, Megumi thought to himself. He just wants to piss off Sukuna. That and it was for your own safety. Though the King of Curses seemed attached to you, he was still a curse, and his attitude could’ve been a mask.

You were used to being alone so living without a roommate or “friends” in a large building was no big deal. Once you were settled in, you returned to Yuuji’s dormitory, but when you found him unconscious and tied to a chair by talismans, you threw a shoe at Gojo without thinking.

“Why are you so violent?” Gojo complained as your shoe bounced off his infinity.

“You said you would protect him!”

“Calm down,” Fushiguro said from behind you. “Please, Gojo-sensei may look and act like that–”

“–oi, what do you mean by ‘that’–”

“–but I promise you, he’s doing this for everybody’s benefit.”

“...You’re lying.”

Fushiguro’s blood froze as you gazed into his eyes. He has never felt such intense blood lust from a single human before.

“You’re not doing this for my baby’s sake… you’re lying… you’re tricking us…” Your voice dripped with ice, your stare glazed over.

Fushiguro was speechless. Something told him you weren’t talking about just Yuuji right now.

“Give him back to me.” You gripped Fushiguro’s arms. “GIVE MY CHILD BACK!”

Fushiguro was at a loss, though your nails dug into him, he couldn’t bring himself to summon his familiars or push you away. You were a bit violent, but he saw Tsumiki in you.

Wait, did she just say child?

@laurcad123 @aidanstan @deepinballs

Part 3

A/N:

I'm getting way too lazy to write full fledged prose.

Anyway, I love soft sukuna.

Also, med school is murder T.T

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miss-dollette · 10 months

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I was thinking in random hcs? Maybe your thoughts about the character? something general? Nothing like nsfw stuff, 'cause it’s all what this fandom have lol

Sure, how 'bout some relationship headcanons! And some character headcanons. Basically, what I believe he would be like in a relationship. At least, the more positive side of being with him. He's a goofy guy, and people take him wayyy too seriously.

Eats food like he's in a competitive eating contest. Consumes enough to feed a small village—your grocery bill might just fund a lunar mission. Don't throw a fit, though; Mr. Riley's mission is to ensure your wallet stays plump at all times. He's a provider through and through.

Transforms into a human fortress at the mere hint of trouble. If someone dares hurt you, Mr. Riley becomes Mr. Ghost in the fraction of a second. And trust me, taking a hit from him is like receiving a love tap from a freight train, minus the love.

Navigates family gatherings like a penguin on roller skates. His military background remains a classified mystery, and his family tales are as fictional as a unicorn on vacation. American relatives? They're convinced he's the next NFL sensation, begging him to join their backyard football league. Spoiler alert: he's more of a brick wall than wide receiver.

Master of the unexpected headlock, coupled with a smirk that screams, "You wouldn't be able to get outta this if you tried your best." Yes, he's a bit of an asshole, but he's your asshole.

Enormous nerd alert. Chuckles at his own jokes. No, he's not ashamed of that.

His humor is on a level of sophistication that revolves around fart and poop jokes. He's not afraid to assert his dominance with a fart, maintaining eye contact for that extra level of charm. Try throwing a pillow his way, and he'll throw it back with the force of a thousand sun's (may have broken your glasses once).

He's British—like, sipping-tea-in-the-rain-with-the-Queen British. The epitome of Brit-ness in a world filled with brits. Probably has a secret stash of crumpets somewhere.

Experienced a growth spurt at eleven that defied the laws of gravity. Shot up from 5'1" to a towering 6'4" by the time he graduated.

His taste buds are stuck in the bland era. Thinks anything spicier than salt is equivalent to summoning fire-breathing dragons. Pepper in his food? Cue him giving you vicious side eye. Introduce any other spice, and he'll act like you're conducting a culinary assassination. Consider yourself warned—he takes his seasoning very seriously. But he'll still eat your food, with a side of milk, of course.

Love Language: Fluent in acts of service and physical touch. To unlock level 10, you'll need a lot of patience, kindness, and understanding. Once you get there, anything you request, he'll do—no complaints, just a casual acceptance of his fate, like a loyal sidekick in a superhero movie.

His commitment is so strong; he'd probably agree to build a rocket to the moon if you asked. He'd do whatever it takes to make sure you get what you want.

Always keeping a hand on the nape of your neck in crowds—part protective gesture, part GPS system. It's his way of ensuring you don't accidentally take yourself off a cliff.

I have so many more ideas.

#cod mw2 #mw2 x reader #mw2 #cod mw3 #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #cod ghost #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #mw2 headcanons

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glassrowboat · 10 days

Text

Sing For Me. Dottore.

Summary: The Angel of Music's lair awaits you as painted gold arms move to welcome you in, the creak of their gears barely registering in your ears over your voice as his hand fits comfortably in yours, guiding you along. Further, further, and further into his world of unending night.

Warnings: Dottore, sexual content, smut, oral, cunnilignus, masturbating, altering of POTO canon, not proof read but Risse is tired

Word Count: 5k

The lights had been blinding as always when you had stood high on the stage, filling the air with a burning heat that licked at your skin. Sweat had dripped down your back, but there was no searing ache in your muscles from performing as your legs held you up for the painted gold faces of statues to see you in all your glory without even a speck of powder on pointed toes. For there were no silk ribbons fastened around your ankles to be seen by an effigies eyes. Your feet weren't even peeling a new layer of skin. There was only a dull hum in your throat and an ever beating heart from frayed nerves at having all those eyes on you.

On you alone.

For the stage had claimed you not as a ballet dancer who twirled with each long string of a bow, but as the star all lights were pointed to.

Just like the ones covered in glitter and gems you had pulled out of your hair a moment ago and laid to rest on the vanity you were sitting before. Your own reflection staring back at you as your fingers dance over the red petals of a rose. A gift from your Angel of Music.

You could almost hear the vibrato in his voice as well wishes fell from the lips that have taught you so well. Surely, he would be dawning a smirk, prideful as he is.

You plucked a petal, withered at the end with a dull brown that curls in on itself, and let it fall onto the floor of this overbearingly pink room; from the wallpaper to the endless bouquets surrounding you in a fog of perfume. All unaccompanied by a glass bottle to spray a charming mist into the air with a squeeze of an atomizer bulb, yet it smothered you nonetheless.

But in your hands, still perfectly polished from when your makeup had been done before the show, was black. A ribbon unlike the twisted and worn ones of your pointe shoes twisting around your finger, hypnotizing you with its delicate touch.

You didn't even notice the knob of the painted door keeping you apart from the bustling crew you would normally be shrugging through in an attempt to go change out of your costume twisting.

Not until a voice called out, one without the austere lit to it you had heard between dark stones aglow by the flicker of candles as you prayed for your father. That bright red of a rose, its scent still plaguing you, was replaced with locks of embering hair and memories of salt in the air as a violin played; waves lapping at the shore a background to the sweet melody.

“A little girl let her mind wander. The little girl thought, ‘Am I fonder of dolls, or of goblins, or of shoes.”

A poem you had learned in your tender years now sparking at the core of your memory again.

“Diluc?”

Your eyes fell on him, taking in the black coat hugging a frame that had now grown out of the lanky one you had known well from days of cuddling up together in a dusty attic on an old blanket, and white tie so pure it could be mistaken for the snow that is sure to come with the change of seasons already starting to creep in through the walls of the opera house with a chilling touch.

Almost like hands made of ice were ready to wrap around your throat.

But Diluc's were warm as he kneeled before you, hand reaching out to rest on your shoulder only to pull it back like he shouldn't have dared to be so familiar with you despite the moments you both shared. “Or of riddles or of frocks..or of chocolates.”

The flutter of your heart still stirred from the stage, twisting and turning as you looked up at him.

He was different from the boy you once knew, but he still held traces of himself from the memories you replayed in your head on an endless loop in between chatter with the other chorus girls and, dare you admit, even in the face of a blue glow that could never melt into shadows the same way the rest of your phantom did.

“Should I refer to you as Vicomte now?” You asked, remembering how the new managers had introduced him during rehearsal.

“Please, don't call me that.” The flickering light of the candle moved along Diluc's shoulders as they slumped. “It makes me uncomfortable. And there's no need.”

Not between us, is what he didn't say.

“Diluc it is, then.”

“And you, should I call you the star of tonight's show?” Diluc asked, head tilting slightly when your eyes met with his. “You did amazing up there.”

“Oh I see, so I'm not worthy of the title a prima donna yet? But no.” you shook your head, a smile quirking your lips up at his genuine praise. He had always been so quick to listen to your quiet lullabies in awe once upon a time, and that same unabashed reverence has turned back to you again.

He really did remember you despite not recognizing you- not seeing you- when he was first introduced to the troupe as a new benefactor of the theater.

“There's no need for that.” You assured him.

“Then if there's no need for titles between us, how about we share a meal. One in celebration of your wonderful performance and to meeting again?”

Your fingers tightened around the stem in your hands the moment he asked, wrangling it into something new, something misshapen. All between knuckles that were slowly turning white with each passing second. “No.”

“I'm sorry is”- Diluc’s hand drew back further, continuously pulling away the warmth he had to offer- “something wrong?”

And the stirring in your heart seemed to quell the further Diluc got.

“It's not- well..you remember what my father said, right, Diluc? That when he was in heaven he would send the Angel of Music to me.” With a sucked in breath you got out the words: “well father is dead, and I have been visited.”

“Oh, there's no doubt of it.”

The sentence echoed one that had once been whispered between you on a windy day, almost bringing you further back in time than just his mere presence brought you. To memories of dark stories and a scarf trying to fly off with the breeze and swim along the waters being returned to you as he wrapped it around your neck as you promised one day you would stand on the stage waiting for your voice to be heard by everyone and by him.

How far you've come.

The both of you.

But…

“And the Angel of Music is very strict.” You reminded yourself. The you that had become intimate with the shivers racking your spine simply at the thought of displeasing him currently running over you.

Breath falling short.

“I don't intend to keep you for long.”

“I know, it's just-”

And then he asked you to please play along, to indulge him on this even as the hole drilling itself in your stomach grew and grew. To the point eating anything in the first place sounded sickening, but you smiled at that same baby face Diluc couldn't seem to grow out of even after all these years and dared to agree.

The hair on the back of your neck stood up as he walked to the door, pushed it out of the way with one last call of “You must change. Something you can actually walk around in, preferably. In the meantime, I'll order my carriage.” And a promise you won't regret joining him as that pink door closed.

Painted lilies staring back at you as gooseflesh awoke on your skin.

A lock silently clicked in place without you even noticing.

Then, a voice seemed to blare over the room, blowing out the candles around you one by one. From the vanity your red rose laid upon to the one next to the dressing screen you had only just been behind to change (trying to discard the heavy costume you had worn on stage), hands occupied with fixing the tie to your robe. Darkness took over, leaving you in the music of the night.

“He's insolent, my muse. Just a boy who hasn't even fostered the voice you now yield, but there he was sharing in my triumph.”

The sneer you could hear in his voice was recognizable and well known after all the times other ‘young suitors’ as he liked to call them dared to cross an invisible line he drew. One you still couldn't tell if it was etched in the grains of sand or hammered into concrete, but either way, daring to pass, it was as risky as a gambler asking for Aphrodite’s kiss.

“He didn't mean any harm.”

“I would say trying to step in the way of your spotlight for a chance to greet you is pernicious at best.”

Like the panes of a window leaving shadows along the floor where the sun casts its rays.

“Look, I'm sorry. I wanted to tell him no.”

“But your soul was weak, I take it?” He asked with the same snark you've grown accustomed to from him. At this point it was almost a comfort after hearing him make remarks about the inability of the crew, Carlotta, and the new managers who had just taken over all while a stained glass image of a god you bowed your head to watched over you.

A holy gaze keeping you safe as prayers for your father whispered on your lips and a flame sparked as you lit a candle in his name, but in here it was only you and a fog slowly creeping in.

Dottore always was one for dramatics.

“Forgive me, teacher.” You said at last.

A hum filled your ears, just as the fog rose higher and higher, blocking out the endless bouquets that had been filling the room more than the gaudy furniture could even dare to try.

He spoke of Diluc basking in your glory, but here he was doing the same with your trepidation.

All you could do was wait for the other shoe to fall, or-

“Only this once, my muse.”

Or to have a hand held out to take yours. Black gloves and golden claws shattering the illusion you were semi alone in this room as the mirror fell away for Dottore to pull you inside. Arm wrapping around your waist to keep you close as a melody filled your ears; blocking out the sound of Diluc rattling the doorknob to check on you as panic swells in his chest.

“I am your Angel of Music.” Dottore said as he cast a sidelong glance towards the door, his hold on you tightening. “Come to your Angel of Music.”

With a crescendo, everything else fell away.

All with that same fog following you, drowning everything else out. Leaving the world above the murky depths you were pulled into distorted by refraction. Blocking out the last words you could have sworn went something along the lines of: “Who is in there with you?”

You couldn't even register the concern lacing each word, not when all your nerves were set alight. Yet the raucous beating of your heart, a drum that has long since been used and abused, finally soothed as Dottore pulled you along.

“Come now, and sing once again with me our strange duet.”

A haze passed by all at once with golden arms clicking as gears in need of a good oiling moved, fingers intertwining with your own, and the splash of water as a rowboat that looked as fickle as glass dipped under your weight when you climbed in.

All with the assurance “I have you” as you were flooded by the Phantom’s song.

His voice echoed off the walls dripping with a moisture you would rather not think about, slipping between the cracks and over dewy cobwebs with a raw texture. The talent of a man who taught himself all he knew in the silence between the shows put on in the light as his shadow cast across the stones down below.

Dottore had once likened it to a hollow building, one falling apart at the seams all thanks to its unsteady foundation, but you? You, the very thing that inspired his song, had come in and filled that shell of a home with comfort. Blankets over the windows to keep the cold air out, rugs padding over the hard floor, and a place to rest; one without the worry of rats creeping their way into our home.

Dottore never explained why he called it “our home.”

Not even as his masked face turned towards you and you were left questioning if that black and white porcelain could hold an expression of fondness.

“Surely you know how to get out of a boat yourself.” Dottore teased, even as he helped pull you out with one last unsteady lurch and splash of water under your feet. Droplets tickling your ankles.

“Apparently not.”

“Don't tell me I have another thing I need to teach you.” Dottore raised a brow, or maybe both, you really couldn't tell.

“Would it matter if you did?” You teased.

“I suppose not. We can stay down here, together.” Dottore whispered with his hand ghosting along your cheek. Cold to the touch. “And abandon the garish light of day all while I teach you something new. All in this kingdom of music..”

A kingdom with only one subject, the king: Dottore himself.

“I'm not just going to purge my thoughts of the life I knew before,” danced on your tongue, wanting to escape from the confines you only tightened the hold of. Chaining it to a wall to be forgotten and discarded.

For his eyes could both threaten and adore; you already knew which would be easier to handle. And you were too exhausted to try weasel your way out of this mess you had stumbled in again, anyway.

“Softly, deftly music shall caress you. Hear it, feel it secretly possess you.” As he sang in your ear, lips and the touch of his mask grazing your skin, Dottore's hand fell from your cheek. Roamed as it pleased. Traced over your collarbones only to go lower, lower, and lower. The golden claws he's wearing toy with your robe, reflecting back your own thinly pressed lips in their radiance. “Open up your mind, my muse. Let me in. Let yourself belong to me.”

“…I”

You took too long to respond.

That was apparent in the way his hand drew back. A stove hot to the touch to tender flesh. Leaving him wounded.

“You need rest. It's been a long night for you.”

“Right…I'm not even that tired though.” Not when your eyes had a place to scour over. To soak in all the rugs placed over the mildew-claimed floors, the lights buzzing with electricity that somehow worked all the way down here, and a well loved piano sitting atop it all.

“You will be. Just give it time.”

All while that same fog that has been chasing you both filled your vision.

You didn't even get the chance to ask Dottore what he meant by that as you fell into his arms. Eyes rolling back as you were greeted by the darkest dreams a mind could imagine.

“Took longer than I thought it would. I'll need to change the percentages in the concoction then. My fault for not testing the drug when it's airborne.”

Muttering to himself Dottore carried you to his bed and placed you down. Tongue clicking as he looked at you slowly being swallowed up but the mattress he had spent countless restless nights tossing and turning in. “Can't you see? Only you alone can make my music take flight…but that boy…”

Hands that were still burnt from your earlier refusal pulled a blanket up and over your shoulders; shaking unsteadily. They might as well have actually been burnt under a flame, set alight, for they twitched like embers were ingrained into his skin as Dottore lingered near you.

Silently watching.

“Once he's gone you can help me make the music of the night. But for now, simply rest well.”

Pressing a kiss to your forehead, Dottore left in favor of his piano, desperate for something to take the swirling storm in his head out on.

It was better that way.

It gave Dottore something to focus on that wasn't his cock straining against his pants as he set the sheets of an unfinished piece before him. Notes daring to be written on the yellowed paper, crinkled and worn after all times he's dug it out only to store it away again without adding a single drop of ink. His pen always did hang in the air, threatening to add something as Dottore busied himself with tapping at the keys; feather covered back turned to you as he tried to work.

Crude, Dottore thought as he huffed at just how wrong it all sounded to his self-taught ear.

It was the tapping that eventually stirred you, forcing your eyes to crack open only to be greeted by the sight of a metal bird staring down at you rather than the mask you had come to expect. Its head tilted to the side. Blue eyes glowing in the dark.

You didn't even get the chance to mutter a confused hello before it flew off with a squawk. Soaring. Long, almost vial-like tail flowing after it.

“What the…”

Grumbling, you pushed the blankets covering you away. Feet padding on the floor as you followed after its flapping wings.

Without your Angel by your side this place seemed different. Hollow, almost. Lonely, like a burnt out candle waiting to bring fire to this world again as it fails to shine. To the point you were glad to follow the song that never seemed to stop playing in your head all the way to a hunched figure.

Without turning back to look at you Dottore said: “I see you're awake. How are you doing, my muse?”

“Like I entered a fever dream.” Which would explain this labyrinth where the daylight dissolves into darkness. All except a faint glow leaving his skin an unearthly hue. “You see the bird too, right?”

Another tap of the keys laid out in front of him rang before Dottore spoke again.

“I do.”

“At least I'm not going crazy then.”

The feathers of his jacket greeted you first, brushing along your arms as they wrapped around him. Would the bird feel the same or would it lack Dottore's warmth you clung to? Would it feel as stiff as he froze under you like deer under the glow of a blinding light.

Funny, for a man who would take a life with as little emotion as a carriage running over a fawn's carcass.

“If you were going crazy I would be sure to tell you.” Dottore strangled out. Voice so tight you couldn't help but check you weren't accidentally pulling on that strap he wore around his throat (for some reason or another), but you weren't even so much as touching it.

“How thoughtful.”

“It's less being thoughtful and more the thought you of going”- his hand pulled away from the keys to gesture at something you couldn't see- “crazed might affect how you choose to sing. Though, it might add an interesting candor as you bear your heart and voice to the opera house.”

“And to its crowd.” You teased, eyes peeking up at him, at the mask he wore, from the feathered mantle you were snuggled up against.

You were so tempted to reach out and graze your fingers over the material, to feel the cold sting grace your skin before pulling it away to reveal what lay underneath. May it be a man or a monster your curiosity begged to know. Pleading into your ear. Only for you to remember the last time you tried as he sucked in an unsteady breath. How he pushed you away, raised a hand that never fell to your cheek as you crawled farther and farther away from him until your back hit a wall behind you.

He shook then just as Dottore is now.

“Yes, them too.”

So your hand didn't dare to try again. Instead it fell to the keyboard to tap over a note or two, fiddling with it to keep your mind off the need to pull away from him- to flee- that gnawed at you. After all, if this truly was a kingdom then what subject could truly run away without repercussions?

The monarch himself picked up the pen beside him, pinched it between those pointed claws, and the notes you had just played were written down on the piece of paper laid out before him.

“Are you writing a new piece?” You asked.

“I'm attempting to. Unfortunately, I am rather distracted.”

Ignoring the way his jaw jutted your way accusingly you continued to tap at the keys. And he continued to write each note down until he told you to sit beside him

“I don't think there's enough room on that bench you're using, Angel.”

His hands were on your waist in a second, the pen clattering as it dropped while Dottore pulled you on his lap. “I said: sit down.”

You barely noticed him picking the pen back up from the ground with his fingers playing with the laces of your corset; brushing over them all the way down to the messy bow you had tied together. At the time your hands had been shaking as the excitement to be on stage had rushed through you, but now your own jittery effort was undone by one single pull of the wirey cord.

Dottore’s touch burned, even through his gloves.

“So..a new piece?” You asked.

“Yes, but I was..admittedly struggling with composing it; on my own, that is. It would be a great help to me if you played another note.” The laces were tugged at again. “Or two. Or three.”

Even as the garment fell off you, only held up by your own hands, it felt harder to breathe than before. “I wouldn't mind, really, but was this necessary?”

Dottore's eyes flicked down between you, scalding you with the red fire inside of them that seemed to only be held back by a single barrier of glass, begging to shatter under the stress. “I was undoing it to keep the corset from pressing on your diaphragm. I don't need your voice distorted.”

It was only a moment later Dottore tacked on “That's all” even as he leaned in closer to you, hand trailing up your back just as softly as the air from his lips was gracing yours. Only an inch apart. Getting closer, closer, and closer to the point you could see deformities in the mask.

Then his head fell to your neck.

“You'll help me f-” Dottore cut himself off, shutting his own trail of thought down. “For my music, won't you, my muse?”

Your hand met the piano, trying to play another note even as his hand dropped from your back and you fell against the keys. The chord cluster had your fingers curling around the white tiles; the damned bird squawked with a jump, only causing your grip to tighten at the shrill sound.

“I'm the one who interrupted your focus, so..” You cleared your throat. “Yes, teacher.”

Dottore replied back with an excellent, already clearly hard at work again as his pen moved, writing the notes you accidentally slammed down on. Black ink trailing off with every flick of his wrist as Dottore's hand slid up to where yours was keeping the corset up and pressed his thumb right over your diaphragm; fingers tickling your ribcage.

“Try to sing a note.”

Without a second to doubt his reasons you obeyed, and Dottore nodded in thought.

“Excellent, just like that. Now, remind me, I don't think we've practiced singing while enduring rough activity, have we?” He asked, head tilting ever so slightly to the side as his eyes flicked over your form on top of him.

“No.” You got out even through the discomfort pressing at your chest.

“Then it's time to change that. Don't you agree?”

“It would be a waste to turn down an opportunity to learn, right? That's what you always say.” At this point you could probably parrot the exact cadence Dottore uses as he repeats those exact words, voice controlled, a lit to it you knew belonged to a man who enjoyed having eyes on him as he made a spectacle of how smart he was, all while teaching you. Usually, Dottore would posture, flick his cape when it gets in his way - not pull you from his lap and place you down on the piano behind you.

Another slam of the keys.

You shifted, trying to get comfortable in your new found place as you tried to figure out why you thought something had been poking at your thigh the entire time Dottore had been holding you close. Had you sit with him on the stool clattering to the floor in Dottore's rush to push it away and kneel before you.

You had half a mind to comment how gross that had to be with these floors, but you were cut off by Dottore himself. “Have I ever told you nighttime has a way of heightening and sharpening each sensation?”

“Here and there.” You nodded. “But what does this have to do with your composition?”

The music sheet (one missing a title) was now cast aside, pen keeping it in place from any stray breeze hoping to pick it up and force it to fall along with the stool. Abandoned by its own creator without mercy for his hands had left it to play with the hem of your skirts; pushing them up and along your legs.

“Oh that's quite simple, but it seems my muse can't figure it out on her own.” Dottore clicked his tongue with a harsh tch. “Sometimes I swear you need everything spelled out for you.”

Ripples ran along your thigh as the cool metal of Dottore's claws graced your skin, from your hip to your ankle as he dragged your undergarments down. “I'll simply draw the notes out of you. You can just lay back and feel it all, savor each sensation.”

“Angel-”

“Oh, and-” Dottore's eyes raised from the sight of your skirts now bunched around your waist, pushed out of the way for his convenience. All to place a single kiss on your thigh that you nearly jerked away from. Only held in place due to the grip he had on you; mercilessly keeping you still even as a heat crept over your cheeks. “And make sure to use your voice.”

Your leg was hooked over his shoulder, the feathers from before taunting you as they brushed against your skin. Were you supposed to grab them or his hair? Were you supposed to yank him back and ask what this was about or let him keep leaning in closer?

The puff of air breathed out on your core answered before you could decide for yourself. And you were suddenly grateful you were sitting on the piano instead of trying to keep yourself up, afloat, as sharp teeth nibbled at your skin leaving your knees feeling weak even after all the years of ballet lessons that strengthened them. Hours of holding poses, perfecting them until you were given a nod of approval from Madame Giry, all suddenly for naught.

“I-I don't think this is very appropriate.”

“You said you'd help me.”

“Well, granted, I did, but-”

His tongue slid along your folds, tasting the very essence you exude. A long strip, a long drag of his tongue on you, and you were a goner.

A single moan ripped through your throat had Dottore's hand reaching down, fumbling with the buttons on his pants (far too many for his liking right now) to push them aside as he tasted you again, again, and again. Only pulling back long enough- giving you a chance to recover- to whisper against your folds “Don't think about anything besides me, my muse. Just me. Let me inside your mind.”

The keys pressed down, playing a soft melody every time your hips bucked up to chase after his touch; desperately trying to drag out more and more of the pleasure building in you. It was a raging fire flooding your soul, a need Dottore returned a hundredfold with a hand wrapping around his cock. Fucking it imagining it was you under him instead- bodies intertwining.

A minor, D minor, and E minor played on the piano, only drowned out by the sound of your cries and the wet sounds between your legs.

A strange duet that was wholefully one of your and Dottore's making.

His thumb brushed over the head of Dottore’s cock, smearing pre into his gloves as Dottore's tongue ravaged you with every bit of lust he'd tampered down over the years. Finally he was able to let it drain into you. Each moment of grazed hands, stolen glances and close calls coming to fruition as his tongue lapped at you.

Using you as a faucet to his molten need that never failed to be stoked, coals sparking with a fire burning alight, by your voice.

“That's it, give in to me. Give in to what I do to you.” Dottore barely managed to mutter between his own groans and hatred to be parted from you for a single second.

Your hand tugged at his hair, the questions you asked yourself long since tossed aside with the flame burning in your core, begging to be eased.

To be satiated.

You barely caught sight of the mechanical bird watching as your eyes rolled into the back of your head, the image of Dottore kneeling before you, head between your thighs as he stroked himself reflected back in its metal beak; warped image capturing the moment you came as the Opera Ghost himself made you sing.

You were too dazed to make out the notes you were playing anymore, only the fact they were turning in your head like a music box that never failed to draw you in as Dottore's head fell against your thigh. Slick coating his face (and parts of his mask), leaving it with a sheen he licked off as his hand moved. Hips stuttering up into the hole he made with a moan.

He called your name as he came, white sticky fluid splashing over the ground.

Blood red eyes staring up at you the entire time.

Speech seemed to turn into silence, words failing you, just out of reach of your outstretched hand desperately hoping to grasp onto anything to say in this moment. But all you could think about was how your blood was still racing.

Even when he had raised from the floor, ran a hand along your cheek, and finally kissed you you still had no clue what to say. Not even as your Angel whispered “Finally. You are so beautiful when you sing, my muse, to the point I couldn't smother your voice even when I longed to kiss you.”

Pulling you in his arms, Dottore held you close, hand running up and down your back, passing over the open laces of your corset.

“Don't you see? This is the music of the night.”

For you alone can make his song take flight.

Funny, how even wrapped up in his embrace, the heat of your release painting your thigh, you still felt cold.

And you longed for another to hold you tight.

#and the melody they made ends up being The Point of No Return #f for diluc tho. man just met his childhood sweetheart again and she's down in the basement getting tongue fucked #hoyoverse #genshin x reader #x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #fem reader #banner by cafekitsune #dottore x reader #il Dottore x reader #dottore #il Dottore

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apomaro-mellow · 9 months

Text

King&Prince 6

Nancy was pacing back and forth. Normally, it made Eddie anxious, but since he knew exactly what was on her mind, he decided to let her continue until her short legs tired her out.

"I just-I don't understand you. How can you give him free reign of the castle?"

"He doesn't have free reign", Eddie said.

"Did you put a collar on him? Or cuffs?", Nancy asked. When Eddie shook his head, she continued. "Do you put any sort of spell on him? Or charm?"

"Robin can handle herself. And there's always guards nearby if he steps out of line."

Nancy looked him up and down, then crossed her arms. "It's almost like you have faith in him or something."

Eddie couldn't describe what he was feeling. He couldn't forgive the Harringtons for what they had been doing. But Dustin was right. Unless he could prove that Steve had been directly responsible, it wasn't right to punish him. He could still dislike him, since he definitely benefited from the misdeeds of his family.

And there was a slim chance those hard feelings would ever change.

------------------------

Steve got dressed just in time to hear someone knock on the door.

"Hey, your royal slowness, we haven't got time for you to soak all day. I have actual important things to do."

It sounded like the woman from before. The one who didn't want him. Steve opened the door to her unimpressed face.

"Let's go."

"Without shoes?", Steve asked, looking down his bare feet.

"You won't need 'em."

She led him down the hall, past some windows and Steve got his first glimpse of the outside. It looked...normal. Nothing like the blackened, dead trees, and the dry, salted earth that he'd been led to believe this area was. The trees were wilting, sure, but in the typical way ones did in autumn. There was grass and even people doing chores outside.

Past the castle walls, he could make out something in the distance that looked like a town.

"Keep up!"

Steve tore his eyes away and saw that she was a long ways ahead of him. He jogged to catch up, noting the carpet on the floor. He was suddenly reminded of being very young and still allowed to go barefoot outside his quarters.

"Alright", she opened up a closet that was filled with instruments. "I need these moved over to the other end of the south wing and then polished and shined."

"So you're using a prince as both a pack mule and a maid?", Steve asked, brow raised. "What if I refuse?"

"Then I get our all-powerful king to put a compulsion hex on you and hypnotize you to do it anyway."

"Steve!", Dustin exclaimed when he came around the corner, beaming. "I went down to visit you and you were gone! They set you free?"

"I'm less free and more like free labor, apparently."

"You know you're not supposed to go down into the dungeons, Dustin."

"I see you've met Robin. Don't worry, she's nicer than she looks", Dustin grinned.

"Not nice enough to not tell Eddie what you've been doing. And I'm pretty sure he threatened to tell your mom. Maybe I'll just cut out the middle man", Robin warned.

Dustin paled. "You wouldn't dare."

Robin gestured to the musical instruments. "Help out with this and I won't tell a soul."

Dustin let out a breath of relief. "Menial work? That's it? Between Steve and me, we can knock this out easy."

Steve frowned. "I never said I'd-"

"This spoiled brat probably can't even lift a flute", Robin challenged.

"He knows how to kill a guy like a dozen different ways. Steve could finish this in like ten minutes", Dustin countered.

"Ooh, challenge accepted", Robin turned, ignoring Steve's protests. "I'll be in the second music room. Keep his highness on a tight leash."

Fully roped into it, Steve started hauling instruments. Dustin was talking, but he was thinking of his escape. He had no shackles, no bars. He could find a moment to get past the walls and then...maybe it would be better to sneak to the stables and get a horse first. He dreaded the thought of traveling such a distance with no shoes though. Maybe someone had a pair lying around?

Could he steal a pair in town without anyone noticing? He doubted most townsfolk would recognize him as an enemy prince. Steve was deep in his escape plan strategizing, that he just nodded along and 'mhm'ed to whatever it was that Dustin was saying. That kid could talk to a wall and keep the conversation going, which he was pretty much doing now, talking to Steve.

He barely even noticed that they were done moving things until the woman, Robin, threw a cloth at him.

"I want these shiny enough to see my reflection in them", she ordered.

"Why are you making him do all this?", Dustin asked.

"I'm getting new students tomorrow and they deserve nice equipment."

Dustin's eyes narrowed. "Who?"

"Oh no one you'd know. Except for Mike."

"Mike?!"

"And Max. And El, oh and Lucas and", Robin went on naming people, some Steve knew, others that he didn't.

"Bullshit! There's no way they're all taking classes!"

"Oh they are. And you are too", Robin said while leaving the room.

Incredulous, Dustin followed her out, leaving Steve alone in the room. Alone. They had left him alone. He looked to the open door, leading out into the hallway, then the instruments spread out on tables and the floor, covered in dust.

-------------------

Jeff and Nancy were strolling the halls, discussing how best to prepare for any sort of retaliation when they heard whistling. It wasn't the sound that gave them pause, but where it was coming from. A music room that wasn't supposed to be in use yet. They poked their heads in and saw Prince Steve, whistling a happy working tune while shining a shining a trumpet.

The two of them pulled their heads out, shared a mutual expression of confusion and went to seek out Eddie to report to him, but he was nowhere to be found. That usually meant he was off in town or visiting some other part of the kingdom. Either way, they wouldn't be able to talk to him until he returned.

Steve didn't spend too long rationalizing why he was doing this. He was just biding his time until he came up with a more solid plan. Even though his homeland wasn't really a home, at least no one there wanted to actively kill him. He wasn't safe here and he couldn't forget that. He especially couldn't let his guard down around the king.

Robin remembered him a couple of hours later and led him back to the room he'd first been brought to. Steve had time to actually look at it now. Smaller than his own room but larger than the prison cell. Definitely warmer to. But besides that, it was very minimal and sparse. A bed, a small drawer, and the bathroom. Steve wondered what this room was for. It was an odd sort of guest room.

Robin said something about dinner being brought up but Steve paid it no mind when he realized he'd be sleeping on a bed tonight. He collapsed into it and buried himself in the blanket. He'd be having sleep for dinner.

Part 8

Tag Team

@thesuninyaface @only-evanescent @snakeorsquid @ignoremyworld @theclichefortunecookie @goodolefashionedloverboi @just-a-tiny-void @0body0disphoria0 @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @samsoble @sugartin @jamieweasley13 @y4r3luv @xtkxkrzrizir @un-knownperson @greekgeek24 @justdrugsformethanks @potato-of-the-lord @notaqueenakhaleesi @swimmingbirdrunningrock @queenie-ofthe-void @nebulainajar @lil-gremlin-things

#apo writes #stranger things #fanfiction #steddie #robin buckley #dustin henderson #steve harrington

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lalathemediterraneanmermaid · 1 month

Text

What do ikeprince suitors smell like? Pt.2

Hi my beautiful Belles, it's such an honor to present you with part 2 of "What do ikeprince suitors smell like? I absolutely loved and had so much fun doing the first part. So here is the promised second part, where we will discover the perfumes that the princes from Rhodolite are most likely to wear. This is not entirely accurate - it's only based on their routes information and the vibe each boy gives me.

Jin Grandet

The big bro, seductive womanizer and alcohol lover definitely smells like seduction and playfulness with a mature vibe. I'm sensing some kind of citrusy freshness along with some spices on top of a woody warm bed.

Notes: bergamot, galbanum, tangerine, liqueur, pink pepper, ho leaf, amber, rosewood and oakmoss.

Perfumes he might like:

Sauvage - Dior (Basic, but it still works)

Cuirs - Carner Barcelona

Grand Soir - Maison Francis Kurkdjian (sometimes he takes this one from Nokto's perfume collection).

CH Men Prive - Carolina Herrera - His favourite, probably layered with "Grand Soir" for special occasions.

Stronger With You Intensely - Giorgio Armani

Chevalier Michel

King Highness, my man, your man, nation's man, world's man. It is said in his route that he showers a lot. It is also said by Belle that Chev smells like vetiver and winter. So I'm getting fresh clean boy vibes from our pookie man. He may also be a huge Byredo boy.

Notes: vetiver, green apple, wintergreen, sweet orange, white rose, white lily, jasmine, gardenia, ylang-ylang, sage and soap.

Perfumes he might like:

Sycomore - Chanel

Grey Vetiver - Tom Ford

Philosykos - Diptyque

Aqua Universalis - Maison Francis Kurkdjian - His favourite

Blanche - Byredo - His second favourite

Bal d'Afrique - Byredo

Mister Marvelous - Byredo

Clavis Lelouch

The Hellcat Troublemaker charming gentleman probably smells like sweat, chaos, trouble, chemicals and gunpowder, but let's pretend he doesn't. This mf brings joy and happiness to everyone's lives. He's the life of the party. We've all been charmed by him at any point in the series, don't you dare denying it. Yes, he is traumatized, but so are we. He is dazzling and fresh like a summer breeze, sweet and funny like an ice cream.

Notes: mandarin, lemon, sea salt, jasmine, rose, muguet, heliotrope, musk, vanilla, coconut and aromatic herbs.

Perfumes he might like:

Bleu de Chanel - Chanel (courtesy of Keith)

Aqua Allegoria Bergamote Calabria - Guerlain - His favourite (layered with "Pulp" to add playfulness).

Blu Mediterraneo: Fico di Amalfi - Acqua di Parma

Pulp - Byredo - His other favourite, he loves this one because he stole it from Chevalier's Byredo collection.

Allure Homme Sport - Chanel (this one is the one he uses while pranking people, just because the word "sport" in the perfume's name.)

Leon Dompteur

The gold digger girl dinner love of my life. He is a true gentleman, he treats you right, it's the princess treatment for me girl. He is classy, sweet, thoughtful, a liar friendly, masculine (in the best way possible) and sensitive. Roses seem to bloom whenever he smiles. A provider. Husband material. He gifts you PLUSHIES, how cute is that? Love him.

Notes: lavender, linalool, bergamot, roses, cinnamon, anise, clove, thyme, jasmine and cedarwood.

Perfumes he might like:

Fahrenheit - Dior - His favourite for high events

Y Eau de Parfum - Yves Saint Laurent

Rive Gauche pour Homme - Yves Saint Laurent - His favourite

Black Saffron - Byredo

L'Homme Ideal Sport - Guerlain

Blenheim Bouquet - Penhaligon's

Green Irish Tweed - Creed - His second favourite (layered "Black Saffron").

Yves Kloss

The Barbie Haughty Kitty. He definitely smells like flowers, especially roses, and something really sweet, gourmand with a soft clean base.

Notes: apple, peony, rose, apricot, jasmine, iris, musk, vanilla, praline, sugar, strawberry and peach.

Perfumes he might like:

Peony & Blush Suede - Jo Malone London

White Suede - Tom Ford

Eau Rose - Diptyque

Chanel Chance Eau Tendre

Love in White - Creed

The Favourite - Penhaligon's - His favourite

Bianco Latte - Giardini Di Toscana (layered with "Eau Rose") - His favourite combination (he uses this one to go see you Belle).

Licht Klein

The lone wolf, our cutie pie, Yves's baby. I feel like he smells like fresh rain on top of a sweet and clean base with some spices added.

Notes: orange, wintergreen, rain, mint, green apple, white lily, sweet pea, orchid, vanilla and sandalwood.

Perfumes he might like:

Silver Mountain Water - Creed

Acqua di Giò Profumo - Giorgio Armani

Royal Water - Creed - His favourite

Celeste - Giardini Di Toscana

Millésime Impérial - Creed (Silvio's gift).

Nokto Klein

Our frivolous womanizer, the slay and cunning fox, my baby. Chev's personal clown. He LOVES perfumes - Silvio and he are in some kind of competition about who has more perfumes. He is the layering king, not just because his perfume gets mixed with other girls' scents, but because he knows what he is doing. In literally everyone's routes, it's said that our silly boy who just wants to be loved and understood smells like a red flag "late night trysts", but what exactly that smells like?

Notes: Freesia, white rose, ylang-ylang, orange blossom, cinnamon, musk, sandalwood, heliotrope, queen of the night, vanilla and jasmine.

Perfumes he might like:

L'Homme Ideal - Guerlain

Noir - Tom Ford

Black Orchid - Tom Ford

Do Son - Diptyque

Flowerhead - Byredo

Luna - Penhaligon's

Grand Soir - Maison Francis Kurkdjian

Roses Musk - Montale

Intense Café - Montale

Reflection Man - Amouage (matching with Azel)

Royal Mayfair - Creed

Borabora - Giardini Di Toscana - His favourite

Blu Mare - Giardini Di Toscana (Silvio's gift)

Luke Randolph

Our own big (enormous) Winnie the Pooh. The Honey Lover. The Nap Lover. He is sweet, lovable and caring, the perfect brother you will never have. He will do anything to help you and to make you happy. He doesn't really care that much about his appearance, so the majority of his perfumes are gifted.

Notes: Honey, vanilla, herbs, honeysuckle, violet leaf, white musk and amber.

Perfumes he might like:

Mojave Ghost - Byredo (Clavis's gift, stolen fom Chev's perfume collection)

Oajan - Parfums de Marly (Jin's gift)

Chergui - Serge Lutens (Sariel's gift)

Honey Aoud - Montale - His favourite

And this is the end. Hope you enjoyed this silly little simulation, because I did. I had so much fun, especially with ma' boy Clavis.

This may not be the end of this series, next I'm planning to do the same dynamics (scents and perfumes) with our evil boys from Ikemen Villains. But if you have any suggestions let me know!!!

Kisses my beautiful little bunnies. xoxo.

#ikemen prince #ikemen series #cybird #cybird otome #cybird ikemen #ikemen games #cybird series #cybird games #jin grandet #chevalier michel #clavis lelouch #leon dompteur #yves kloss #licht klein #nokto klein #luke randolph #scent #perfume #belle

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arteastica · 30 days

Text

early in the morning, especially when it rains, and a little before noon. (29)

erwin x fem!reader

chapters: (1) | (2) | (3) | (4) | (5) | (6) | (7) | (8) | (9) | (10) | (11) | (12) | (13) | (14) | (15) | (16) | (17) | (18) | (19) | (20) | (21) | (22) | (23) | (24) | (25) | (26) | (27) | (28)

summary: I basically took Isayama’s work, forced it into a romance story, and made Erwin the love interest. Commander meets cadet and they fall in love (not instantly though)

notes: very berry canonverse (but some events were modified to fit my narrative), wasn’t intended to be this long, but it all is in the details right?

content warnings: smut where it fits (or where I make it fit. Also, reader is NOT underage, so likewise, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, please.) slow burn (I really mean it. I’m not olympic diving into any form of smut for the first chapters.) no angst. I dislike angst. I would never. I could never. (Although angst can be somewhat subjective so take it with a grain of salt?

wc: 6.8k

“Lord Angert,” your father began, savoring the name together with his favorite black tea. “The renowned author. I’m sure you’re familiar with his work.” He continued, feigning modesty with a nonchalant flick of his hand, yet the gleam of pride dancing in his eyes betrayed his true intentions. “Even he couldn't resist my darling's charm. Oh, the poetry he must have penned in her honor... words cannot do her justice.”

Your father's words hung in the air, each syllable a heavy stone dropped into the once calm waters of your mind. The golden afternoon glow, not too long ago a source of comfort, was now a fading memory, casting long, distorted shadows as the impending dusk descended upon the tearoom. Outside, dark shades of blue took over the sky, and inside, a suffocating dread seeped into your veins as you recalled the events of that winter day Lord Koch had visited the base.

The Commander. You knew how he felt about Leon. He had made his stance clear that night in his office. And now, you could almost feel his gaze upon you, but you dared not glance his way. His eyes, you imagined, were performing a cold, calculating assessment on you, dissecting your every reaction to find an explanation he could take home with him tonight. And you wished you could provide just that, you wished you could explain that you'd carefully avoided mentioning Leon’s visit the previous winter, fearing the very misunderstanding now unfolding before your eyes.

Your heart longed for clarity just as much as you imagined his did, but under your mother’s watchful, scrutinizing eyes you were trapped. You knew she had been piecing together the puzzle of your relationship, one carefully observed detail at a time, and that every breath, every movement you made would just confirm her suspicions about the two of you. Whatever those might be.

And like so, you became nothing but a mere spectator to your own demise. Sitting there in silence, as still as possible despite the tight knot suffocating your throat. Sitting there in uncertainty, silently praying for a moment of privacy with him, for a chance to explain, to clear this misunderstanding before he left. Before it was too late.

“Our daughter has had numerous suitors since she came of age,” your mother began, her voice surgically cutting through both, the silence left by your father’s monologue, and your distressing rumination, “however, she has consistently declined all their advances.” She declared calmly, while her fingers, steady as a painter’s, lifted the delicate porcelain cup to her lips, the controlled elegance with which she carried herself standing in stark contrast to your own trembling hands.

“Lord Angert, while a formidable prospect, was no exception.” She concluded, taking a sip from her cup, her movements as precise and calculated as her words. And maybe it was the sliver of relief you felt at her opportune intervention, but in that moment, you realized you’d never seen anyone drink black tea so gracefully before.

“Sometimes,” she continued after savoring her drink, a hint of a smile playing on her lips, a small gesture that made you hold your breath in anticipation of whatever words were about to leave her lips, “one wonders if her heart has already found a home somewhere else.”

A sudden, sweltering fever started to burn your face, threatening to consume you whole. Your heart pounded in your ears along with your mother’s last words, a deafening drumbeat against the quiet of the tearoom, drowning out the gentle chirping of night birds that had just woken up from their slumber. And maybe it was the open window and the cool evening breeze blowing against your neck, but despite being in your childhood home, you felt exposed and vulnerable; the urge to seek refuge in the Commander’s gaze, an overwhelming impulse. The need to meet his eyes and apologize for this whole conversation, from the marriage misunderstanding to your mother’s uncomfortable assumptions, was overpowering. Yet the fear of doing so, unintentionally proving her point, and making things even more awkward for him was even stronger.

“Who? A Survey Corps soldier?” Your father interjected, his voice laced with a mixture of concern and amusement as he began to pick up the clues your mother had not-so-subtly dropped. “Buttercup?” He questioned, turning his attention to you, and you could practically see the gears turning in his mind as his keen eyes drilled into you, studying your features as if they would ever betray you and give away your little secret.

“But, aren’t romantic relationships…prohibited there?” He asked, this time turning to the Commander, seemingly begging him to soothe his worries away with a firm nod of his head, which you didn’t know whether he got. You still didn’t dare to look anywhere near the tall man sitting across from your father.

“I mean, I would bet there is no shortage of suitors back at the base,” he continued, his tone shifting to one of protective concern. “But I trust you to keep an eye on my little girl, Erwin. She's my most precious possession.”

“I promise to always take good care of her, Sir,” the Commander assured him, his voice firm as ever, yet gentle as it was on those intimate moments when it was just the two of you, alone in his bedroom, your naked bodies tangled by the crackling fire, his fingertips drawing random patterns on your sweaty skin, and his agitated heartbeat singing under your ear. And like so, in the sincerity of his voice, in the warmth of those shared memories, you found the courage to finally meet his eyes.

And to your surprise, there was no anger, resentment, or recrimination lurking in their depths. Instead, all you could see was a promise - a promise not just to your father, but to you as well. And, in that fleeting moment, as your eyes locked and his lips smiled reassuringly, you allowed yourself to imagine a future where those words were not merely a casual promise of temporary protection, but a sacred vow exchanged under the watchful eyes of your family.

“Alright, it seems dinner is ready,” your mother announced, a contented hum escaping her lips as she began walking towards the kitchen, where the tantalizing aroma of roast turkey was calling. Rising from your seat, you closed the window with a gentle click, blocking out the fading daylight and casting the room in a warmer, more intimate glow.

The clinking of silverware against porcelain echoed through the dining room, the aroma of roast turkey and creamy mushroom gravy filling the air as the street lights, now casting long shadows over the room, created a sense of comfortable intimacy.

Your parents, engrossed in their own world of high society gossip, didn’t seem to notice the moment your hand found its way into the Commander’s, your fingers intertwining with his beneath the table. The warmth of his skin sending shivers of delight all over your body.

Luckily for you, your mother’s favorite book: Other people’s personal business, was open in Frida Achterberg’s chapter tonight, and in this moment, with her attention entirely focused on Lady Achterberg’s children and not you, you felt a sense of freedom, a chance to connect with the Commander without fear of prying eyes.

“I heard it from Hansel today,” your father said, his mouth full of roasted parsnip, “he introduced Augusta’s niece to Lady Frida’s son. They’re tying the knot in Orvud this summer.”

“Miss Berger? Marrying that dreadful young man?” Your mother exclaimed, her voice dripping with disdain, as if the mere mention of Marco Achterberg’s name was a social sacrilege. “Can you imagine?”

Your father, ever the eager participant in such conversations, leaned forward, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I heard it was a match made in the heavens,” he said with a mock seriousness. “Two peas in a pod. Hansel is an experienced matchmaker, after all. Ha ha”

You and the Commander exchanged a silent, amused glance, a secret smile playing on your lips as you listened to your parents' animated conversation. The warmth of his hand, clasped securely with yours beneath the table, reminded you of a comforting cup of chocolate on a cold, snowy day. And his thumb, tracing gentle circles on the back of your hand, was speaking in a silent, secret language only the two of you could understand.

“Can you believe it?” your mother exclaimed, still hung up on Miss Berger’s fate, her features contorted into a mixture of surprise and disappointment. “Young Miss Berger is to be married! Such a pity, really. She's barely out of her teens.”

“Well, someone has to inherit that fortune.” Your father chuckled, a hearty sound that filled the room. “She was Lady Marina’s only child. There’s nobody else to share those golden ingots with,” he replied, his tone laced with a hint of envy. “Let's hope the Achterberg boy appreciates her.”

As your father’s voice drifted into the background, you risked a glance at the Commander, your heart pounding in your chest when you found his eyes already fixed on you. Their deep, captivating blue, meeting yours for a fleeting moment before he turned his attention back to your parents.

“Isn't it scandalous?” you heard your mother say, the faux outrage in her voice making the Commander chuckle softly. But her voice was merely a distant, fading melody for you. Because, his smile… Goodness, you could stare at it for the rest of your days, forever lost in t-

“Buttercup,” your father’s voice interrupted the moment, breaking the spell, your heart racing as you reluctantly let go of his hand, forcing your attention back to the conversation. The Commander, ever the gentleman, mirrored your actions, his expression carefully neutral. “What became of the Achterberg girl you went to institute with? The one who tried to set Mr. Gunter’s office on fire?” He inquired, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Lady Frida’s eldest?” You asked, indulging in a sip of cider to wash any hints of guilt or discomfort from your face. “I heard she married Lord Koch’s cousin, and moved to Karanes.”

“Hansel’s cousin?!” Your father’s voice, as well as his eyebrows, shot up in alarm before turning back to your mother, “that can’t be right. I’m quite certain they’re all well into their fifties, and more importantly, married already!”

As your parents continued their lively discussion about the local aristocracy, you leaned in slightly in the Commander’s direction, your breath warm against his ear. "I believe you would be a far better match for Lady Achterberg's daughter," you whispered, a mischievous smirk tugging at your lips. “She’s a chess prodigy, just like you. Perhaps I should consider myself lucky Lord Koch didn’t introduce you first.”

A playful glint appeared in his eyes as he chuckled softly. “Perhaps.” He murmured back, his voice low and intimate. “Although, I believe Lady Achterberg’s daughter would be quite disappointed to learn that I don’t count setting things on fire among my… interests.”

You couldn’t suppress a giggle as you glanced at your parents, making sure they were still engrossed enough in their animated conversation.

“I’m beginning to notice a connection between Hansel and the ancient art of matchmaking,” The Commander continued, a hint of amusement in his voice, “I suspect he’s trying to take over the social scene one arranged marriage at a time.”

“Well, Lord Koch is a wealthy man with five married daughters, he has nothing to do but marry off everyone else’s. Try the cream of parsnip.” You suggested, serving him a generous ladle next to his sourdough bread.

“Lady Frida isn’t entirely without her faults.” Your father conceded, a hint of empathy in his voice. “Yes, a bit conceited perhaps, but there are far worse people inside these Walls. It’s sad to see the way her kids turned out.”

Your mother raised an eyebrow, a silent challenge in her face. “Well, she did raise them, didn’t she, which is a questionable thing on its own. More bread?” She asked, an offer neither you nor the Commander could decline.

“It’s a beautiful house, madam,” he remarked, dipping the crusty bread into the cream of parsnip.

“Thank you, Commander,” she replied, a subtle nod of appreciation as she placed two additional buttery slices of bread on his plate.

“A townhouse in the heart of affluent Mitras, six bedrooms, three floors, and a private garden. What’s not to like?” Your father jumped unprovoked, unable to resist an occasion to display his wealth. His enthusiasm, however, quickly vanished in a matter of seconds. “Except, of course-”

“The shared wall,” your mother and you finished the sentence in unison.

“Exactly, I don’t like-”

“Sharing a wall with the neighbors,” you two said again, exchanging amused glances with each other.

“Exactly.” Your father conceded, a little annoyed at the two women in his life.

“A most impressive property, Sir,” the Commander remarked, his gaze traveling across the room, “I couldn’t help but notice the lack of staff. Is it only the two of you at home, Madam?”

Your mother chuckled softly. “That’s correct, Commander. I find joy in caring for my family,” she said, placing yet another serving of turkey on your father’s plate. “I enjoy cooking and they seem to enjoy my cooking, why would I let a stranger steal one of the highlights of my day? And what’s worse, pay them for it. Would you care for some more turkey, dear?”

You shook your head seconds before realizing it wasn’t you whom the question had been meant for, but the Commander.

The affectionate slip of the tongue sent a jolt of surprise through you as you glanced at your mother, her face betraying no hint of embarrassment. She hadn’t even noticed. The Commander, however, seemed to have caught the accidental endearment, a subtle smile playing on his lips as he gave her an affirmative nod.

Your mother, usually so reserved against visitors, was displaying an unexpected vulnerability tonight, the endearing mistake a silent confession of her growing fondness, perhaps? Or so you would like to think.

As she offered the Commander a generous serving of turkey, a pleasant warmth crept onto your cheeks, realizing the implications of her words. She had fallen in love with him even faster than you had.

“Family is really everything,” your father declared, randomly inserting himself back into the conversation after taking a long pause to sip wine. “Ever considered starting one of your own, Erwin?”

“In my line of work, sir, those are not the kind of thoughts one is allowed to entertain,” he replied, his tone polite but firm.

You lowered your gaze, feigning interest on the food, your face as hot as the soup you pretended to stir. The course of the conversation was clear, and you dreaded the uncomfortable territory you were headed for.

Your father, oblivious to the tension his interrogation was causing you, pressed on. “So you are not wedded,” he observed, more to himself than to the rest of you present at the table. “Have you ever been?”

“I haven’t, Sir.” The Commander replied, his voice steady.

A flicker of disappointment crossed your father's face. “How come? I imagine a man like you, with your masculine bearing and remarkable intellect, wouldn't struggle to find a partner, should you ever change your mind.” He suddenly turned to you, his wrinkly eyes twinkling with genuine curiosity, and perhaps, something else... “Right, buttercup?”

Feeling a blistering blush spread all over your face, you squeezed the Commander’ thigh abruptly, a little above the knee, forcing a smile to meet your father’s seemingly innocent one, and wishing to melt into your chair. With his inquiring eyes focused on you, you were suddenly flooded with flashbacks to that awkward moment in the tearoom from earlier, but at least now you had the warm, firm muscles of his thigh to hold on to for support.

“Your commander here is a fine gentleman,” he continued, stating the obvious, as if you’d never noticed yourself, “a man like him, in his prime, his wife will be a very fortunate lady.”

You smiled forcefully, unsure how to respond.

“Reminds me a lot of myself back in the day.” He sighed longingly, as if remembering a sweeter, more youthful past he could never go back to. “Like Erwin here, I was a man of substance, with a keen mind and even sharper wit.” He recalled, a touch of vanity creeping into his voice. “Tall, muscular, built surprisingly similar to one of those stone sculptures from the museum, if I do say so myself. Right, pumpkin?”

“If you cannot think of anything truthful to say, you will please restrict your remarks to the weather.” Your mother replied, and even though still a little tense, you couldn’t help but laugh. “Tea in the salon, everyone?” She asked, her joyful tone immediately warming the atmosphere.

You exchanged a knowing glance with the Commander, the shared amusement in his eyes making you smile. In this moment, surrounded by the people you loved and the man you had fallen for, you felt a sense of peace and contentment.

“Unforgivable! I almost got you!” Your father exclaimed, his laughter echoing from the salon all the way to the dining room, where you stood at the table, clearing away the remnants of dinner.

You’d never seen him so engrossed in a game before. His competitive spirit paired with his complete lack of skill on the chessboard, had always turned the game into a source of frustration for him.

“Perhaps next time, Sir.” The Commander chuckled, making his final move, a calculated precision in his actions that together with the blue depths of his stare, was both captivating and intimidating.

You paused in your task, your gaze drawn to the two men. There was an undeniable affinity between them, a fresh bond forged in shared respect, or royal conspiracy theories, perhaps. Little did it matter, it was a precious thing to witness nonetheless, rare like the unusual moments of domestic tranquility the Commander almost never got, a respite from the complexities of his world. The realization filled your chest with warmth, as comforting as the soft glow the salon was bathed in.

“I won’t be so forgiving next time, Erwin!” Your father promised, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

“I will be ready then, Sir.” The Commander replied, his eyes meeting yours briefly before returning to the board, a soft smile playing on his lips.

The flames dancing in the fireplace behind him, the steam coming from the mug beside the chessboard, his relaxed, comfortable demeanor… it all took you back to that early winter night in his office, the first time he made love to you.

A warm smile spread across your lips, the memories from that night flooding your chest with a quiet joy, making your skin tingle with a delightful combination of pleasure and excitem-

“You love him.”

Your heart pounded in your ears, throat tight and dry as your hands stilled, the remnants of dinner forgotten.

“Mother?” Your entire face was burning when you met her gaze, surprise and apprehension battling within your chest as you wondered how long had she been observing you.

“You are in love with Commander Smith,” she stated plainly, her voice carrying a quiet conviction that sent shivers down your spine.

With your heart threatening to break your ribcage, you opened your mouth to deny it, but no words came out. Your mother, with a keen understanding of the situation as she always did, turned her attention to the men conversing animatedly in the salon, giving you a moment to regain your composure.

“Mother,” you began after a while, your voice barely a whisper, “you have an extraordinary imagination.”

Her lips curved into a knowing smile. “Perhaps,” she conceded, “but a mother knows her child, doesn't she?”

Her eyes, always filled with warmth and understanding, now held a knowing look as well, a look that said she had seen through you, understood you in a way that no one else ever had.

“I know you, my dear,” she continued, her voice carrying a quiet authority, “I saw you when Lord Wald’s youngest tried to dance with him,” she chuckled, her tone laced with a hint of amusement, “and I saw you dancing with him too. The way you blushed when his hand found your waist, the way you smiled with your head on his chest…” She paused, still looking at the Commander, whose eyes were crinkling with amusement at something your father just said. “The way you smiled at each other when you thought no one was looking.” She finally turned to you, her eyes softening when they met yours. “I’ve seen this before, you know.”

Your entire face trembled, your muscles doing their best to prevent any emotion from escaping. Looking away from her knowing gaze, you sought refuge in the sight of the man laughing with your father in the room next door. Your little secret should not see the light tonight. Not like this. Not when neither of you were ready.

In that moment, as if fate conspired together with your mother to prove her point, his eyes met yours, his lips offering you a sweet smile, filled with a tenderness that made your heart skip several beats.

“The things you say!” You exclaimed, looking away from him as fast as you could, your ears burning after realizing your mistake, your voice rising slightly in a futile attempt to mask your discomfort. “That’s nonsense, mother. The Commander- he-”

“He is a fine gentleman,” she interjected, her voice soft, “well-mannered, educated, hardworking,” she smiled reassuringly, her protective eyes wrapping you in her warm gaze, “and my daughter deserves nothing less.”

Your lips trembled, threatening to let a small smile slip, her words of approval caressing your ears like soft velvet.

“Not to mention,” she continued, her eyes momentarily traveling to the Commander before returning to you, “he’s also very well-favored, if I may add,” she conceded, the playful smirk tugging at her lips making you chuckle.

“I’ll take it from here,” she declared, taking the cleaning cloth from your hands, “now go, before your father embarks on one of those ridiculous theories about secret societies thriving beyond the walls,” she added, exasperated at the absurdity of such notion.

With the weight of your secret becoming a little lighter now that you had one less person to hide it from, you settled onto the couch, your body instinctively seeking the warmth of the Commander’s side. Your mother joined shortly after, just in time to witness your father challenge the Commander to a rematch. And for the rest of the evening, there were no more interrogations, no more inquiring eyes on the two of you. Only laughter, the gentle crackle of the fire, and poor chess decisions by your father.

“Sir, Madam, thank you for a most delightful evening,” the Commander said, his voice carrying a note of sincere gratitude, “your hospitality will be long remembered.”

Disappointment shot through you as you watched him rise to his feet, realizing the evening was drawing to a close. You stood as well, your feet heavy with the impending farewell.

“Anytime, Commander Smith. Do you have a place to stay the night?” Your mother inquired, her voice warm and inviting. “Why don’t you stay here? There’s plenty of space.”

The Commander hesitated, his gaze shifting to you for a moment before going back to your mother, and from that look alone you already knew what his answer would be, even though his lips were yet to make it official.

“I appreciate the offer, Madam, but I believe it best to arrange my lodging at a nearby inn.” He announced, a polite smile gracing his lips. “You’ve already been very generous with me, and I don’t wish to overstay my welcome.”

“Nonsense, we made you stay in Mitras longer than you intended to,” your father interjected, his voice firm but laced with warmth, a warmth that ignited a little flame of hope inside you, that maybe your parents could somehow convince him to stay, “the least we could do is offer you a warm bed for the night.”

The Commander bowed his head, a subtle smile playing on his lips, "your hospitality knows no bounds," he replied, his voice filled with sincere gratitude. “However, Sir, I’m afraid my answer should remain the same.”

Your mother's smile widened. "Of course, we understand. And we won’t delay your departure any further as you must be tired, but please, do visit again soon. You're always welcome here."

“That’s right, and before you go, Erwin,” your father began, his grip firm as he shook the Commander’s hand, “once again, thank you for watching over our girl.” A genuine smile graced your father’s features before they grew darker, a shadow of concern crossing his eyes as they scanned the room, seemingly expecting an unseen threat. “Be careful out there, Erwin,” he warned, “these are uncertain times and those who share our beliefs must be vigilant.”

A shiver ran down your spine as your father’s words sank in. He was not usually like this, and the seriousness in his voice was as unsettling as it was concerning. If he was this alarmed, then the world outside these familiar walls must be far more perilous than you had originally imagined, even in the ‘safe haven’ known as Mitras.

“I certainly will, Sir. Be careful as well.” The Commander replied, exchanging a serious glance with your father, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken danger. And something about their demeanor made you suspect that it wasn’t titans what they were worried about.

“Mother, Father, I’ll see Commander Smith out,” you declared firmly, a desperate last attempt to find at least a moment of privacy with him. A minute or two in the hallway, out of your parents’ sight, should be enough to steal a kiss from those sweet, indulgent lips.

“I will do it-” your father began, but your mother’s voice was quick to cut through his words.

“How come? Remember Doctor Spiegel said that people your age should be regular with their sleep schedule,” she declared, her tone unwavering yet playful, and with a final glance at you, she led your father upstairs.

“People my age?” You heard your father question, his voice, as well as their retreating footsteps, a fading echo in the now perfectly quiet house.

The Commander turned to you, his eyes holding a silent farewell. You offered a small, resigned smile in return, your hand reaching for his face as if by force of habit.

“Do you really have to go?” You asked, your thumb tracing the bristly skin of his chin. It was selfish, you knew, wanting to take even more of his time, to demand even more of his attention, and yet...

“First Lord Koch, then Lady Angelika, then my father…” you sighed, watching your fingers play with the collar of his shirt. “It seems everyone gets to have a moment with you today, except for me,” you said, your eyes meeting his as your lips uttered those last words.

He smiled, his eyes disagreeing with what you just said, yet regarding you with a tenderness that never failed to make you feel safe and protected.

“Princess-”

“I know I’m being selfish,” you confessed, putting on that same little smile you used when you were just a little girl, asking her parents for candy, “but I’d love to have you all to myself, even if just for a little while…” You paused to look up at him, your eyes crinkling in mischief, “do you think that would be possible…Commander Smith?”

A soft chuckle escaped his lips as his hand reached for your face, running an indulging finger across your cheek.

“My lady,” he began, his voice low and intimate, “how could I say no to such a reasonable request?”

You smiled wider, excitement weaved into the little giggle you let escape, and linking your fingers with his, you led him back to the salon next door.

“Interesting piece,” he murmured as you walked through the doorway.

“Hmm?” You turned around, finding his gaze lost in the vibrant green fields of the painting above the fireplace, “oh, that. Mother fount it at a local fair,” you explained, guiding him to the couch, where you could share the warmth of the fireplace, “said it made her feel-”

“Free,” he echoed softly, his voice carrying a hint of longing.

You looked at him, his gaze still drawn to the painting in front of him. In the soft glow of the fireplace, his features were even sharper. His nose, in particular, was a work of art in and on itself, high and perfectly proportioned, the bridge prominent and the tip slightly downturned…

Goodness, he was so beautiful.

“Exactly,” you said softly, still admiring his profile, “Mother loved it at first sight. However, upon learning its true meaning, she deemed it too provocative for her taste.” You paused, your eyes momentarily shifting to the painting. “Life beyond the walls. That’s what the artist envisioned.”

His gaze returned to you, a silent question reflected in his eyes.

“Notice how there’s nothing on the horizon?” You explained, tracing the outline of the painting with your eyes. “No walls, no titans. Nothing but the bare blue sky.”

He nodded, his eyes following yours back to the canvas, where they decided to rest for the time being.

The room fell silent for a while, the only sound the gentle crackling of the fire in front of you, casting dancing shadows on the walls. You were mere inches apart, fingers interlaced, your body leaning into his, yet you could tell his mind was a world away, still lost in the imaginary realms of the painting. You stole another glance at him, and remembered about the earlier misunderstanding regarding Leon. Figuring this was the moment you had been praying for all evening, you opened your mouth to apologize.

“A provocative work of art, indeed.” He suddenly murmured, more to himself than to you, his expression still contemplative, his voice so deep and mellow, so husky and inviting… It was truly unfortunate that the object of his admiration was the painting, and not you.

Inside the dimly lit room, with the dying fire highlighting the sharp lines of his features in intimate shades of gold, and the delightful sight of his profile staring right ahead and not your way, you realized that the Leon matter could wait a little longer, because at the moment, you were incredibly tired of sharing his attention with the painting.

A quick glance at the lonely, sleepy corridors of the second floor sealed your decision. With your heart pounding in your chest, you took his hand and placed it on your thigh, where the thin tulle of your dress offered little resistance to his touch, your skin burning beneath his manly, calloused fingers.

His eyes, a piercing shade of blue, promptly returned to yours, a silent question lingering in their depths.

“Tell me, Commander Smith,” you started, your voice a whisper only he could hear, “and my dress?” You asked, his gaze lingering on your lips for a moment longer than necessary, “do you find it…provocative too?”

He looked down, his eyes resting on your thigh much like his hand was. And you could see the look of disapproval on his face, you too knew this was inappropriate. However, you could also see the battle raging within him, a silent war between reason and desire. You wouldn’t blame him if he pulled away, but you hoped the temptation was strong enough to make him stay.

Then, as if to help him make an informed decision, his fingers started tracing the delicate fabric of your dress, his thumb and forefinger studying it, feeling its texture, the warmth of his skin seeping through the tulle, burning the fine, very-easy-to-tear fabric.

“Very much, my lady,” he finally said, his voice a gift from the gods themselves, so low, so perfectly rough it caressed your skin in all the places you wished his fingers did. Under the intense scrutiny of his gaze, a strong wave of desire crashed between your legs, flooding your senses, soaking you entirely. And you wondered if he wanted it too. You wondered if he wanted to taste you, to feel you against him just as much as you did… And most of all, you wondered if he imagined tearing the dress from your body, just as much as you wanted him to.

“Distracting,” he murmured, his eyes tracing the lines of your body, lingering on your exposed shoulders and beauty bones, “a man can’t help but have dangerous thoughts when confronted with such a sight.” His fingers tightened around the fabric, your entire body trembling under his touch, the smell of burnt wood blending deliciously with his intoxicating cologne.

“What kind of dangerous thoughts, Commander Smith?” You dared to ask, your chest rising and falling in anticipation of all the promises his eyes were silently making to you.

A knowing smile played on his lips, and goodness, the things that smile could do to you. If only you could kiss it right now.

“The kind that are best not shared with a lady,” he replied, his palm, warm and firm, flat against your skin, “much less under her parents’ roof,” he said, his fingers sinking in the soft, tender flesh of your inner thigh, his grip gentle yet greedy, as to remind you that he could take you whenever he pleased.

It was not until you spoke again, and felt your breath warm against his lips, that you realized the proximity between your faces.

“Would you like to help me take it off?” You asked, the question dangerously tumbling out of your lips before you could stop it. As your heart pounded loudly in your ears, you realized the implications of your words. You hadn’t intended for it to go that far, yet you couldn’t say you were mad at yourself for that.

His eyes darkened, a dangerous glint flickering in their depths. “Very much,” he gave you his honest reply, his voice almost a growl, a raspy, delicious answer whispered against your lips. “However, circumstances dictate otherwise, and a man would be greedy to expect more from an already wonderful evening,” he said, his voice laced with a hint of regret.

“A man would be cruel, merciless even, to leave a lady in such distress,” you countered, breathing heavily against his lips, “all to herself…” You shifted in your place, pressing your thighs together, the need to touch yourself, an overwhelming desire.

“Tell me, Commander Smith,” you continued, your voice both a plea and a demand, “aren’t you going to kiss me before you leave?”

A storm of desire raged within his eyes, your question igniting a silent war inside him. From such proximity, you could see duty and honor trying to keep him from slipping, from making a dangerous mistake, from giving in to his most primal instincts… yet their efforts perhaps weren’t enough…

A dangerous smile took over his lips as he leaned in, his lips hovering a hair’s width away from yours. His hand rose to the nape of your neck, where his fingers, asserted a firm, possessive claim on you, securely tangled in your hair.

“Pretty princess,” he murmured, his voice a dangerous promise, his bottom lip menacingly brushing against yours.

Your heart pounded in your chest, a mixture of fear and anticipation. You wanted him to close the barely existent gap separating you, to claim you in that moment with a kiss. Yet, the thought of your parents returning filled you with dread. Should any of them come back down and see you like that… it would be the end of you. These were definitely not the activities their young, unmarried daughter should be engaged in this late into the night, much less under their own roof.

However, the man in front of you was too hard to resist. He was worth risking everything for.

And just like that, as temptation pulsated between your legs, you reached out, your fingers tracing the bristly line of his jaw as you brought his face impossibly close to yours.

When your lips finally met his, time seemed to stand still. Eyes closed, you brushed your bottom lip against his, a soft, tentative touch that was enough to make the world around you fade away, worries, fears, insecurities, and Marie Dok included. In that moment, when he held your bottom lip captive between his teeth, nothing else mattered but the connection between you. Every time your lips touched, you felt a sense of wholeness that was impossible to describe, as if it was only then that you were sound and complete.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you parted your lips, inviting him in, his tongue tracing delicate patterns inside your mouth, dancing against yours with a practiced skill. It was an area he knew very well, after all. And his hand, once gentle, now moved with a possessive urgency, tracing the contours of your body, roaming over your back, claiming the curves of your hips as his…

You moaned softly, your body arching against his as he deepened the kiss. And you felt him smile against your lips as you melted into him, your entire body trembling under his touch. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated bliss, the taste of his lips, the feel of his touch, the intoxicating aroma of his cologne- it was all you could focus on, your senses completely consumed as you surrendered to the intensity of the moment.

As you surrendered to him.

You held his face with both hands as he kissed you deeper and deeper, pleased, contented hums escaping your lips as you enjoyed the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. His hand, meanwhile, traveled back down to your inner thigh, where it decided to rest for the time being, his fingers warmly tucked between your legs, dangerously close to your silky, drenched underwear. You felt a surge of delight that threatened to consume you whole, your body aching with longing, aching for him. You shifted in your seat, a silent plea for him to continue, to take you further. Yet you knew he would never cross that line without your consent, much less in the middle of your parents’ salon. He was a gentleman, a man of honor. But you… you weren’t that self-possessed, and your mind was already racing with forbidden fantasies.

You wanted to climb onto his lap, to feel him closer, goodness he must be so hard right now. But the knowledge of your parents, sleeping just a few rooms away, held you back, a cold chain binding you to your place. You knew the risks. A glass of water, a cup of warm milk, a late night stroll to fight insomnia… They could return at any moment, and an encounter like that would ruin everything, everything you had built that afternoon.

“Commander Smith,” you whispered, gasping for air as you pulled away.

His grip on your hair tightened slightly, a silent protest against your words, “a little more, princess,” he commanded, his voice husky with desire and his breath warm against your lips.

You leaned into him, taking his bottom lip between yours to reassure him that you didn’t intend on stopping either.

“Upstairs,” you declared, your eyes extending a very inappropriate invitation. Your faces so close you were surviving on each other’s oxygen. “Come with me upstairs.”

A wave of guilt washed over you as you uttered those words. A part of you felt bad about how much your parents trusted you, and how eager you were to abuse that trust with what you were about to do. But an even bigger, better part of you couldn’t stop imagining the things he would do to you behind closed doors, once you took the matter upstairs to the safe, intimate walls of your childhood bedroom.

He stared at you with a puzzled look in his eyes, surprise as evident as the blue in them. As if he hadn’t heard you correctly, you leaned in again, your breath a warm caress against his ear. “Erwin,” you whispered his name softly against the sensitive skin, “please take me to my room,” your cheeks burned with a delightful blend of excitement and nervousness as you continued, “and once there…” you whispered, planting a feather-light kiss down the side of his neck, “make me yours.”

buy me a ko-fi☕️? ^^

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