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i feel like i've been defending why i didn't like [REDACTED] a lot lately because i've been meeting a lot of new people and it keeps coming up in conversation. and whenever i talk about it i feel like i keep adding the caveat of a) i didn't say it was bad, i think it's a very well made film that handles its subject poorly in a lot of ways and i just didn't like it and b) i was never going to like it because of problems i have with both the subject matter and the director, so unless it was something completely unexpected it wasn't going to win me over because it's not the type of film i like even outside of all my issues with it. and i do wish people would take that into account tbh
#like i am not the audience for this guys films i only really really like 1. and that's an outlier#he just doesn't make the kinds of movies i enjoy. so even beyond the ideological differences i wasn't going to fall in love with it#other notable movie that came out this year perhaps even on the same day was more disappointing because i really wanted to like it more than#i did. i definitely enjoyed parts but it did fall flat for me#i DO have a bias against this film specifically whenever i talk about it and i am aware of it and i'm not going to change my mind lmao#i've seen it twice i've TRIED to view it objectively but we are like oil and water#neon has thoughts#you can almost certainly guess what the film is i don't actually know if this post is coherent. just didn't want it to show up in search#mostly bc i am tired of defending why i didn't like it i've written out my thoughts seriously on letterboxd and everything. this post is for#vagueblogging and frustration
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Steve likes to watch youtube videos of a guy who restores old consoles. It soothing to him, it relaxes him. He likes watching how he restores them, fixes them, makes them look brand new.
He also enjoys watching him work for… other reasons. Weirdly, he thinks the guy is kind of hot, even if he never shows his face. He looks fit, with the way his shirts stretch over his chest and are loose on his tiny waist and he’s always wearing cool belts, black leather with studs or chains. He likes the way he moves around, manic and a little clumsy but incredibly precise when necessary.
Steve especially likes watching his hands, thick strong fingers, bony wrists, noticeable veins, and short clean nails that sometimes have chipped black polish adorning them.
He sometimes thinks about those hands when he's alone, but, well… no one needs to know about that.
🎮🤲💖
Eddie has a fairly popular youtube channel… And a huge crush on his next-door neighbor. He simply cannot decide if the dude is cutter than hot or vice-versa.
'He sure is nice, though,' he thinks, when one day he gets a large package of replacement parts that he’s struggling to get inside and the guy walks up to him, asks if he needs any help, and takes the heaviest box with no effort at all.
He says his name is Steve and then stares at Eddie's hand for a really long time when Eddie extends it for him to shake after getting the boxes inside his studio.
He hears Steve’s little 'oh', under his breath and then sees him blush prettily before mumbling ‘He needs to go, now.' And stumbling out of Eddie’s place.
Eddie chuckles to himself as he watches him leave, definitely cute AND hot in equal parts.
🎮🤲💖
A few weeks later Steve's mom tells him she needs help getting rid of some of his nonno's old things and he finds a LOT of cool stuff that look just like the ones Eddie restores on his channel.
He and Eddie have been slowly getting friendlier over these last couple of weeks and he’s been dying to have an excuse to talk to him more, so he takes the items home and then goes to Eddie's and very nervously tries to offer them to him but doesn't know how to explain he knows he's a youtuber without looking like a weirdo because Eddie’s never shown his face.
He stumbles and blushes a lot, barely making any sense and Eddie mistakenly thinks he's trying to ask him out and says,
"I'd love to go on a date with you," Smiling and hiding his dimples behind a lock of hair he's been playing with since the moment Steve started stuttering.
Steve completely forgets what he was trying to say or do and says he'll pick him out at 6.
The date is amazing, it feels like they are meant to be. They get along so well, talking, laughing, and already making fun of each other as if they’re old friends. And they are definitely attracted to one another. If the way Eddie practically tackles Steve with his rush to get his mouth on him when they get back, it’s any indication.
Steve is very on board with this and he enthusiastically kisses him back. They kiss desperately as he fumbles with his door handle to get it open. When he succeeds, he walks them backward into his place not wanting to stop kissing Eddie, but stumbles and falls flat on his ass.
When Eddie turns on the light he sees Steve sprawled on top of a bunch of boxes full of old technology. A lot of emotions go through his face, ‘he’s so expressive’ Steve thinks a little enamored, having still not realized how much trouble he’s in.
But Eddie looks confused, then shocked and scared, and finally, angry,
"Steve, what the fuck?"
‘Oh, shit…’
“I can explain!” he says immediately, standing up and walking toward Eddie as he backs away,
“I didn’t want to ask you out-” Steve starts but interrupts himself when Eddie huffs, turns, and starts walking towards his own apartment, “Shit, fuck! No- That’s not what I meant, Eddie! Wait-”
He turns again and glares at Steve but then his eyes go wide, “Steve,”
“Please, let me explain-”
“Steve-”
“I did- do! Want to ask you out! I like yo-”
“Steve!” Eddie screams and Steve stops, shocked, and finally focuses. Eddie is staring at him and he’s so pale even his freckles have changed color. But no, wait. He’s not staring at him, he’s staring at his arm and Steve looks down to see… a lot of blood.
“Oh,” he says faintly. He must have cut himself on a sharp edge when he fell. Too worried about Eddie, he hadn’t even noticed the pain, but now that he’s seeing the cut, it fucking hurts.
“Oh,” he says again, realizing he’s feeling kind of dizzy, ‘that's way too much blood,’ he thinks.
“Jesus Christ!” Eddie huffs, takes off his flannel shirt and wrapping it around Steve's arm, he pulls Steve by his other hand toward his van.
“Oh no, your cute shirt,” he mumbles and hears Eddie snort before he slams the door of the passenger seat and goes to the driver’s one.
They go to the hospital in silence. It's tense. Steve tries to explain himself but Eddie shuts him up harshly, tells him to save his energy.
Even so, when they get there, Eddie still holds him gently by his good arm as he helps him inside. He tells the nurse what happened because Steve is having a hard time focusing right now and then tells him he’ll wait outside for him.
He gets stitches and a tetanus shot just in case because he doesn't remember when was the last time he got one and gets weird looks when he refuses painkillers, but no arguments. He’s given a little juice box and is told he can't get up until he finishes it.
A few seconds after the nurse leaves, the door opens and Eddie walks in. Steve looks up and smiles at him, but Eddie doesn’t smile back and Steve shrinks a little on himself.
Eddie sits on the chair facing the overbed table Steve is perched on and sighs, moving his hand in little circles motioning like, ‘Well go on. Explain yourself’
Steve looks around the room and thinks about where to start. He can't look Eddie in the eye, so he stares at the little juice box in his hands. It's got a cartoon orange in the front. The drawing it’s awful and kind of scary.
Taking a deep breath, he starts, “I've been watching your videos for a long time now. I have- I am- I-”
He fumbles for what to say, even if this date is already ruined…it's not exactly a good first date topic, is it? How fucked up he’s inside.
In a flash, images of his father’s violence, running from home with his mom, going to live with his nonno, taking care of him as he slowly lost his mind with age while his mom worked her ass off to feed them, getting cheated on, losing his “friends” because he didn't want to bully freshmen, working as a babysitter and getting almost beat up to death by his kid’s stepbrother… he shakes his head and shrugs,
“I've been through some…stuff” is what he says in the end, looking up at Eddie. He doesn't look mad anymore, his expressive eyes look concerned. Steve worries about what was it Eddie saw in his own expression, but it surprises him how easily he read him. He’s usually so good at hiding it.
He breathes in again and keeps going, “Your videos, they calm me down when I've, sometimes I get anxious and-” he clears his throat, again, not wanting to tell Eddie about the panic attacks, the nightmares.
But it seems he doesn't have to, Eddie looks at him like he gets it.
It makes Steve want to keep talking, “Watching you work, seeing you fix things, leave them like new, no sca- marks, no problems, just working again and beautifully clean. It makes me feel better.”
Eddie gives him a small smile and Steve returns it, “I really like your hands…” he blurts out and then closes his mouth quickly, blushing furiously.
Eddie’s eyes go wide and then he smirks and stands up slowly walking up to him and taking Steve’s hands on his own, they both stare at their joined hands for a while, the touch feather-like and soft.
“You recognized me because of my hands?” Eddie asks him a little incredulous.
Steve giggles, “I saw the logo for your channel on your studio that day I helped you with the boxes,” he clarifies sheepishly.
Eddie blushes and opens his mouth in a silent ‘oh,’
Steve draws small circles on Eddie's knuckles with his thumbs, “When I came over today, I was just trying to offer you those stuff at my place, they were my grandfather's” he explains, “I didn’t know how to say I knew who you were without looking like a weirdo and I got nervous and you thought I was going to ask you out and I wasn’t planning to but you are so beautiful I-
Eddie kisses his cheek and Steve shuts up and looks at him surprised,
“I’m sorry I freaked out,” Eddie says, “I thought- I don’t know what I thought- I was just upset you didn’t actually like me.”
And Steve immediately answers, “I like you” a little too excitedly.
Eddie smiles at him so warmly it makes his heart rate pick up, “Good. I like you too.”
He blushes and looks down at their hands again unsure, “Do you really? Even tho I’m…”
“What?” Eddie asks, squeezing his hands reassuringly.
“Broken?” Steve whispers.
Eddie hums and drops his hands to hold his face, “Not broken, baby” he says lovingly and kisses the crease between Steve’s brows, the top of his eyelid, his nose, and the corner of his mouth. Then hugs him and Steve buries his face on Eddie's neck, and breathes him in.
A minute goes by or an hour, Steve is not sure, and Eddie leans back enough to kiss him again softly and whispers, “Some things don't need to be fixed Steve, just held.”
𝒻𝒾𝓃
coffee? a hug? ☕🥐💕
#stranger things#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#i wrote something#modern au#trying out this new read more feature i hope it works!#im kidding#i do hope people click for the rest tho this goes places
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new sensations II.
pairings: e.m x fem!reader
author’s note: surprise! did we catch the way Eddie took care of reader in the first half because it definitely still haunts her. Please like/comment/reblog if you enjoyed it 🖤
warnings: cheating (reader w/ Eddie, whoops), oral (Eddie and reader receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v, creampie, slight dom!Eddie, choking, ass slapping. Let me know if I forgot anything!
you can read part one here.
Rain pours outside, the stars dotting the night sky covered by dark gray clouds that swirl across its expanse.
Your mind is as clouded as the sky, consumed with thoughts of a certain brunette.
You’re in bed now, the sage green curtains in your room drawn closed, and the lights dimmed low. A cinnamon-apple candle is lit, sending hues of orange and red around the small space as the flame glimmers against the glass. The rich scent wafts through the air.
You can’t get Eddie out of your head, haven’t been able to since that night nearly two weeks ago.
The feel of his lips, the way his hips pushed into yours.
There were many nights you’d spent alone with your legs spread and your fingers working you over the edge, but not nearly as good as he did. You can still picture his face when you sank down onto his cock, wide brown eyes, and a slack jaw. A pretty sight, one that made you clench around his shaft, and god, you needed to feel him again.
But there was Steve…your boyfriend. The one who had encouraged you to sleep with the curly-haired metalhead as he watched. The one who doesn’t know that you can’t stop thinking about the boy he thought of as a freak.
A heavy sigh leaves your lips as you drag a finger down your chest and over your cleavage, thinking of Eddie’s kiss.
Imagining his touch.
Your hand trails lower, over the soft flesh of your stomach, and to the edge of your panties. Goosebumps rise along your flesh, anticipation growing and electric. Your fingers dip under the elastic and over your mound, middle finger grazing your clit and eliciting a gasp from your parted lips.
You throw your head back against the pillow, imagining Eddie’s warm breath against your wet folds. Teasing and taking his time. Kissing and nibbling your thighs, watching you from over his bright brown eyes.
His soft auburn curls would tickle your thigh, adding to the anticipation, and you’d watch him with a hooded gaze. Needy and desperate.
He’d swipe his tongue, flat and fat over your center, groaning when he tastes your arousal. Burying his face deeper so his nose presses into your bundle of nerves.
A deft hand rubs circles against your bundle of nerves, dainty fingers that don’t feel as good as his long, calloused ones.
You continue to try, toes curling as pleasure courses through you, but never a release. Your head falls back against the pillow, and you let out a frustrated sigh.
A desperate need thrums through your veins, felt in the throb of your aching cunt whenever images of Eddie flash across your mind.
You reach for your phone, scroll to the messenger app, and type Eddie’s name, creating a new message. The first one you’d ever sent him.
Uncertainty creeps into your chest. What do you even say?
Slowly, your thumbs move across the screen, and you hit send before you can second guess what you’ve typed.
You: got anything for sale?
You read it back, cringing at your words, but in an instant, he’s responded.
Eddie: what are you looking for?
A mischievous grin pulls against your lips.
You: whatever you’ve got, can you drop it off?
Eddie: yeah, I can be there in twenty.
You: 333 S Fairfield Ave. Let me know when you’re outside.
And maybe it was a little presumptuous of you to assume Eddie would even want you in that way, but fuck, you hoped he did. You hoped he’d thought of you too. With his hands wrapped around his shaft, picturing the faces you made and the sounds you created as he rutted into you.
You hopped off your bed and took in your appearance, straightening your white camisole and the blue checkered boxer shorts you wore. The ones that barely covered your ass.
Quickly you fix your hair, and was lip gloss too much? Too obvious?
You shrug your shoulder and apply it anyway, rubbing your lips together so that the cherry gloss is coated evenly.
It feels like your heart is going to beat out of your chest as you wait for Eddie’s text and the sudden ding of your phone sends a thrill through you. Earlier than expected.
Eddie: outside.
A wave of excitement washes over you, one that’s hard to contain as you push your feet into your slides and lock the door behind you.
Eddie waits inside his van, thumbs thrumming against the steering wheel on tempo with a Metallica song he was learning on his guitar. He’s bobbing his head, glancing around your neighborhood; a part of town he didn’t often venture to. The apartment building you live in was renovated from an old bank, a three story brown brick building that’s a little weathered with age. Cars are parked along the curb but the street is empty and quiet.
He sees you out of the corner of his eye as you and approach, he can’t help but turn his head when he notices the length of your legs or the sway of your hips. He swallows the need that climbs his throat, a sly smile slotting into place as you open the door.
“Hi,” you whisper softly as you slide into the passenger seat of Eddie’s van. It smells just like him; tobacco, weed, bergamot and leather. A scent that makes you hum appreciatively as you get comfortable, finally turning to him.
His gaze is already on you, appreciating the skin that’s exposed to him. Eyes roaming over your thighs and the tops of your breasts. Images of that night flashing in his mind but he shakes his head.
This was business.
“I’ve got a little bit of weed, some special k if you’re into that, and pretty sure I have some bars but I wouldn’t recommend that. Pick your poison,” his eyebrow arches as he waits for your response and you can’t help but chuckle at him.
“So serious,” you tease, voice dropping low with a shake of your head.
Eddie rolls his eyes, a crooked grin pushing a dimple into his cheek. He can’t help but find you cute despite his best efforts.
“What if I want,” you pause, “something else?”
Your words are loaded, full of innuendo that’s lost on Eddie.
“I mean, I could try to get it for you. Just depends on what it is, sweetheart.” He shrugs his shoulder, his gaze still holding yours.
“I’m sure you can,” you chuckle and run your hands over your thighs nervously. What do you even say?
The movement catches Eddie’s attention, his gaze drifting back to your exposed skin and you catch a glimmer of want in his cinnamon eyes.
“About that night,” you start and Eddie’s gaze meets yours.
“Yeah,” he begins at the same time. He was sure you regretted it, positive that you wished that you hadn’t agreed to him joining you and Steve.
The dejection settles into his gut as he waits for the words to spill from your lips.
“I can’t stop thinking about it,” you say, fingers playing with the them of your shorts.
His head darts up, he wasn’t expecting that.
“What?” His voice is incredulous, and he was sure he imagined it.
You turn your body towards him and reach for his hand, playing with the rings that adorn each finger.
“I said, I can’t stop thinking about it…about you.”
There’s no mistaking the words or the desire written in your gaze and Eddie swallows hard.
“Is that why you messaged me?” His voice is a little cocky as he leans closer, his warm breath fanning across your skin eliciting goosebumps along your arms.
You nod, eyes darting to the swell of his lips. Desperate to taste him.
“Say it,” he demands, the previous uncertainty all but evaporated as he watches you squirm.
Your eyes dart back to his and you swallow hard.
“Yes,” your voice is smaller than before, the desire restricting your breathing as you think of all the ways you need him.
He groans at the way you’re looking at him, a little needy. A little pathetic.
Eddie puts the car in drive and steps on the gas, pulling away from your apartment without another word.
You don’t question him as he hurries through the streets, the tree line becoming more dense as he searches for a spot that’s private. Away from prying eyes.
An electric silence fills the van, a palpable need buzzing between the two of you. The minutes drag on as he searches for a spot and finally pulls into a clearing surrounded by trees that overlook the lake.
“Lover’s Lake?” You tease him, trying to bring levity to calm your racing heart.
“Get in the back,” he tells you, smoothing his hands over his jeans.
Your cunt clenches at his words, the way his voice sounds as he tells you what to do.
Without another word, you kick off your shoes and climb into the backseat. Eddie watches you from the rearview mirror, the way your shorts ride up and reveal the swell of your ass.
You lean back on your hands and meet his gaze in the mirror, waiting for him to join you.
“Take off your clothes,” he instructs with a hard voice, still watching you.
You slowly pushing down the straps of your tank-top. Pulling the fabric over your head, the heavy weight of your tits bouncing free and you don’t miss the way Eddie’s gaze widens as he looks at you. His eyes hooded over as they trace over the swell of your breasts.
A teasing smile pulls at your lips, as you trace your fingers down your abdomen and to the tops of your shorts. Watching him, watching you as your fingers push them off your hips along with your panties until you’re bare in front of him.
A groan escapes Eddie’s lips at the sight of your glistening pussy highlighted by the glow of the full moon.
He turns in his seat, eyes trained between your legs as you drag your finger over your center and shudder.
“Are you going to make me beg?” You question with a lift of your brow, creating circles along your clit and Eddie swallows hard. A playful glint in his gaze.
You sigh as the pleasure builds, and cup your breast with one hand. Squeezing the pebbled flesh between your fingers until your nipple is taut.
Eddie climbs into the backseat, and you crawl back on your hands to make room. His body hovers you, his warmth felt against every inch and a shudder ones through your spine.
His nose traces along your jaw, warm breath fanning against your neck and your breath stills. Anticipating the feel of his lips.
“Beg,” his voice is gruff, his lips a whisper over your skin, “like a good little slut.”
A low whine escapes your lips at the sound of his voice, at his choice of words and you keep rubbing circles against your sensitive bud.
“Please, Eddie,” you keen and his hands wrap around your wrist, stopping your movements.
“Please, what?” He asks, a little cocky but his pupils are blown.
“Fuck me,” and the words come out strangled by your growing need.
Eddie’s fingers replace yours, callused fingers rubbing against your sensitive clit.
“So fucking wet for me already,” he groans, watching as you buck against his hand. Chasing the mounting orgasm.
“Oh-“ you moan, holding his wrist against you but Eddie isn’t ready to let you come yet.
His hand withdraws from you abruptly, long fingers coated in your sticky arousal.
“Look at you,” he scoffs, voice gruff and affected, “just as fucking needy.”
You pull his hand towards you, eyeing him as you bring his slick fingers to your mouth.
Your pink tongue drags across each digit, slow and methodical. Gaze locked with his as you lap your nectar from each of his digits.
Eddie’s jaw goes slack as you pull his middle finger between your pouty lips and into your mouth, sucking down its length until your cheeks are hollow.
He groans your name softly, eyes hooded as he watches you.
You pull off his finger with a soft pop, and devilish smirk. You guide his hand over your breasts and down your body, gasping at the feel of his touch, until his hand cups your center.
“Please, fuck me,” you beg.
Without a second thought, Eddie is on you. His mouth pressed to yours in a bruising kiss, pushing your back against the soft carpet that lines the bed of his van.
You push at his leather jacket with his help, his mouth still latched to yours as he tosses it aside.
Needy fingers push at the edge of his shirt, tracing over the soft flesh of his stomach and over his chest.
He breaks from the kiss and removes his shirt, sparing you seconds to admire his alabaster skin dotted with freckles and tattoos. He throws the shirt over his shoulder before he’s on you again.
The kiss is anything but soft as his lips move over yours, his wide hands dancing down your smooth skin until they cup your ass.
Goosebumps spring along your flesh, heat thrumming in your veins as your pulse quickens with every push and pull of his lips.
His teeth graze your bottom lip, and your hips swirl of their own accord, in need of friction.
It feels like your body is thrumming with need, the kind of feeling you get when you’ve been in the sun all day. Nerve endings alive and sensitive.
Your fingers trail down his chest and over the small swell of his stomach to the tops of his jeans, tracing a line along the hem.
Eddie shudders and pulls away to watch as you dip your hand into his jeans. You palm his length, humming at the feel of his already-hardened erection.
Your fingers wrap around his length, stroking his shaft but constrained by the confines of his pants.
“Take these off,” your voice is filled with impatience making Eddie chuckle, but he doesn’t argue.
He pulls away from you, unbuttoning his jeans at an agonizing pace. You watch him, impatient hands pushing the material down his thighs along with his boxers.
You lick your lips as you watch his dick spring free and drag your hand over his hard cock. His hips buck into your palm as you begin to stroke him. Long, swift motions that have Eddie tilting his head back.
Your tongue swirls over his tip, and you moan when the salty taste of his precum coats your pink tongue. You wrap your lips around his head, dragging his dick further into your mouth. Watching him over your lashes as you begin to bob.
Instinctually, his fingers grip your hair, holding you against him as your pace quickens.
Your hand matches the pace your mouth sets, and you moan around his cock, loving the way he hits the back of your throat the deeper you take him.
“Jesus Christ,” he moans, his grip tightening and hips rutting up ever so slightly. You stop bobbing your head and grip his hips, pulling him deeper until he fits in the back of your throat. Encouraging him to fuck your mouth.
His hips move hastily, darkened eyes watching as you gag on his cock.
“So fucking pretty,” he groans, voice strained by the mounting pleasure.
Drool pools on either side of your mouth and down your chest as he continues with his pace. His cock hitting your uvula with every stroke.
You begin to massage his balls, and his hips stutter before he pulls his cock from your mouth.
“Fuck!” He curses, pulling his dick from between your lips, lines of spit still connecting you two.
You watch him through hooded lashes, dragging the tips of your nails over his thighs.
“I’m not going to last if you do that,” Eddie’s voice is hoarse, and he rubs an affectionate thumb over your mouth, dragging your lip down with his digit.
“Such a pretty fucking mouth,” he groans, and you start to push his jeans further down his legs.
Eddie kicks them off until both of you are bare, chests rising and falling rapidly with the intensity of your need.
He hovers over you, pushing your back against the carpet with the weight of his chest until the hairs lining his sternum rub against the curve of your breasts.
He kisses your jaw, creating a trail down your chest, over your ribs, and to the line of hair covering your mound.
Eddie drags his finger along your folds, gathering your slick before bringing it to his mouth and pulling it between his lips, a low groan rumbling from his chest as your tangy sweetness slides across his tongue.
He dips his head between your legs dragging his tongue across your pussy, just as you imagined. A moan escapes your lips, and you curl your fingers in his hair, holding him close.
His tongue flicks against your clit, as his spit-slick finger nudges at your entrance. Your aching cunt sucks him in, wrapping around his digit, and he curls it inside you. Slowly, he begins to drive it in and out of you—the squelch of your sopping hole filling the van.
Eddie’s mouth wraps around your clit, sucking it between his lips and sending electricity through your veins.
“Oh my fuck-,” you cry, bucking against his face. Chasing the building orgasm. He adds another finger, his pace increasing. Trying to pull the orgasm from you, but the stretch of his fingers isn’t enough.
“I need you inside me,” you whine, tugging at his hair until his weight is pressed against you.
Your mouth is on his, licking your arousal from his pretty lips as you kiss him deep—a carnal hunger needing to be satiated.
You spread your legs so he can slot between them and reach between your bodies so he’s lined up with your entrance.
He isn’t slow with his movements, rutting his full length into you and swallowing the scream his movement elicits. His cock pumps into you at a brutal pace, pushing his full length into you until it hits your spongy center.
Eddie’s hand wraps around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you hum with pleasure.
Your pussy clenches around his cock, nails digging into his back as he continues to fuck into you.
“Is this what you wanted?” He groans, face close to yours. The sound of his skin slapping against yours like music.
You nod but it doesn’t satisfy him.
“Use your words,” his teeth graze your lips and you let out a guttural moan.
“Yes, Eddie. Wanted you so bad,” you pant, eyes rolling as he continues to hit the spot that makes your toes curl.
He stops abruptly, pulling his dick from you and flipping you onto your stomach. He grabs your hips until your butt sticks in the air. You wiggle your ass against him, a silent plea for more and he laughs. A mocking sound that sends electricity to your cunt.
Eddie slaps the fat of your ass, once. Twice. Three times before he drags the head of his cock along your folds.
“Such a pretty fucking pussy,” he grumbles, teasing you with his tip. Watching as you suck him in.
“Please-“ you beg, pushing your ass back trying to get more.
He slaps your ass again and you wince, moaning at the sensation.
Eddie gives you another inch before quickly taking it away, his grip on your ass tightening.
It’s as much as a tease for him as it is for you.
You look at him over your shoulder with pleading eyes just as he ruts into his you. Your fingers curl around the material of the carpet as he slams into you.
Eddie watches the way your ass bounces against his pelvis, the way your pussy wraps around his cock and he throws his head back. Already close to coming undone.
He reaches a hand around your waist and presses to fingers against your bud.
“I want you to come on my cock,” he demands, “just like last time.”
Your grip around him tightens at his words, remembering last time.
The orgasm is already building in your center, a tension you can feel in your trembling legs.
“Oh, Eddie,” you gasp as the rubber band pulls tighter and he doesn’t stop.
He keeps the same pace, pumping every inch of his cock into your cunt as his fingers rub mean circles against your clit.
“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie,” you chant his name.
“Are you going to come on my cock liked I asked?” He leans over and whispers in your ear.
“Please-“ you beg even though he’s already given permission.
“Come for me, baby.” He groans, teeth dragging along your shoulder as your cunt clenches around his length.
The orgasm is intense, ripples of pleasure coursing through you and stealing your breath.
Eddie grunts when he feels you tighten, still rutting into you at the same pace, fingers still pressed to your bud.
“Oh, Eddie,” you finally cry and his hips stutter as your pussy flutters around him.
“Shit,” he mutters, wrapping his hand around your neck as he fucks into you harder. Chasing his own release.
“Where do you want it?” He asks between pants and you nearly come again from thinking about him filling you.
“I-inside,” you beg.
“Such a filthy little slut,” he groans, dragging his cock in and out of you.
The muscles in his abdomen constrict, and the grip he had on your hips tightens as pleasure courses through his veins.
He moans your name as his release coats your walls with ropes of his warm seed.
You whimper as he fills you, turning to watch the way his eyes roll to the back of his head as he thrusts and spills the last of his cum inside you.
Eddie looks at you, hair disheveled and cheeks a bright pink. Mouth agape. The same way he looked the first night and you can’t help the hint of affection that unfurls in your chest.
He slowly pulls his softening length from inside of you, grunting at the loss of your warmth.
He slaps your ass, softer than before and looks between your legs where his come is beginning to spill out of you.
“You’re a mess,” he chuckles and reaches around for one of the extra shirts he has lying around.
“‘S all I have,” he shows you and you nod, hips bucking forward as he cleans the excess.
He squeezes your hips and you turn around, eyes hooded. A satisfied grin pulled across your face.
Eddie can’t help but think you’re cute, an absent hand with a mind of its own moving to caress your cheek but neither of you speak. Not yet.
Seconds pass in shared silence as each of you dress, searching the back of his van for your discarded clothes.
He climbs into the front first, turning to help you into the passenger seat. You pull the visor down, startled by your disheveled appearance, and begin fixing your hair.
“Does Harrington know,” he clears his throat, “that you’re here?”
You apply a quick line of lip gloss before turning to him.
“Not exactly,” you shrug. Part of you feels guilty, the part that still loves Steve and knows that he’s only okay with it if he gets to watch.
But there’s another part of you, the one that is louder, that can’t ignore how Eddie makes you feel. Even as he’s looking at you with those chestnut eyes, an amused grin pulled to the side and a dimple pressed into his cheek.
“Do you want to tell him?” You tease and he shakes his head, rubbing an absent hand along his jeans.
“Not at all.”
“Then it can be our secret,” you lean over the middle console and find his gaze.
“Yeah, okay-“ he agrees with a nod of his head.
He searches your face and swallows hard, nowhere near as domineering as he was minutes ago.
“But you should text me instead,” he suggests, and you know it’s an excuse for him to get your number.
You reach over and grab his phone from his pocket, dialing your number until your phone rings.
“Now I have your number and you have mine,” you grin, eyes trained on his lips and you push his cell back where it was.
“And we can meet again,” you promise, brushing your lips against his before kissing him sweet.
His hands reach up and rest on either side of your face, holding you to him as the kiss deepens and his tongue slides across yours.
Eddie hums at the way you taste, a mix of cherries and something close to sin.
#eddie munson#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson x you#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x fem!reader smut#eddie munson fan fiction#eddie munson smut#eddie stranger things#eddie munson x fem oc#eddie munson x fem!reader fluff#eddie munson x female character
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Fic: Right Here, Right Now
Summary: Marrying the love of your life a second time around is definitely sweeter // An ILGOSS Oneshot.
Pairing: Wanda x Fem!Reader | Word count: 1.4k+ | Warnings: None...? does cheese count? | A/N: Did you miss me? Thank you to the anon who suggested this one-shot. This is set in the ILGOSS universe, but can be treated as an independent story about two divorced wives marrying each other again. This functions more like a drabble, think of it like a missing scene in the epilogue. Enjoy!
Masterlist
-
It's been a grueling twelve hours since you last saw Wanda, and you're practically climbing the walls. Your heart's doing this annoying jittery thing, and the more you try to calm down, the more agitated you become. This whole ‘not seeing the bride before the wedding’ tradition is driving you nuts.
Desperate, you send a text to Natasha. I need to see her, you say, barely keeping it together to type a full sentence. I can't wait till the aisle.
Your phone buzzes almost immediately with Natasha’s reply. On it!, she texts back, and you know she's cooking up some scheme. Relying on your best friend to create the perfect diversion feels like your only lifeline.
It only takes a few minutes when suddenly, an ear-splitting sound erupts from outside, jerking everyone's attention away from the primping and preening. Your eyes shoot wide—trust Natasha to choose something as dramatic as a fire or emergency hazard for a diversion. Part of you frets Wanda might be one of the first out there. Nevertheless, the plan works like a charm. Like clockwork, the room empties out, everyone drawn out by the allure of drama and a juicy story.
You’re half-curious about what kind of ruckus Natasha managed to come up with, but that thought vanishes instantly when you hear the other bedroom door open with a soft creak. A second later, a smile gradually spreads across your lips when you hear a set of footsteps, familiar to you as your own heartbeat. Rising carefully from your chair to avoid stepping on the hem of your pristine white dress, you make your way to the door as quickly as decorum allows.
As you reach the stairs, you spot your bride already making her way down. Seeing her, even with her back turned to you, takes your breath away and seals your fate of forever having your heart in Wanda’s captivity. It's hard to believe you managed to be with her the first time. Harder to think about how you almost lost her in your life for good, but here you are, feeling like the luckiest person in the world to have her back again for a second chance.
“Hey.”
Wanda turns at the sound of your voice, and her smile illuminates the space around her, outshining the sun's rays filtering through the windows. A gentle sea breeze teases her hair, softly framing her face. You stand frozen at the top of the stairs, unable to comprehend how everything you’ve both been through, led to this miraculous moment.
“Hi,” she greets in return, nodding towards the commotion outside. “Everybody rushed out. Could be an emergency.”
You shake your head and smile widely, teeth digging at your bottom lip, helpless as a blush taints both of your cheeks. Wanda looks absolutely stunning, and it's like you're suddenly back in college again, seeing her for the first time. You miss a step, almost causing you to fall flat on your face, just like you did back then.
“I…might have asked Nat’s help to get you alone,” you say with a sheepish grin. “I, uh, I wanted to do something. I-If you’re up for it.”
“Sounds serious,” Wanda teases, perching herself on the handrail. She arches an eyebrow, her eyes reflecting a desire that mirrors your own. It takes every ounce of your self-control, and then some, not to sweep Wanda into your arms and forget about the ceremony altogether. For several seconds, you're silent, prompting Wanda to reach out. Her fingers lightly brush against your arm, and that simple touch sends a pleasant shiver down your spine.
“What’s the plan?” she whispers, as if guarding a precious secret.
Without hesitation, as if the idea has been burning inside you your whole life, you blurt out, “Let’s get married.”
“You do remember we're getting married today, right?” Wanda says, barely hiding her amusement.
You nod, stepping closer to her. “Yeah, I know. But right here, right now, I want to marry you. Just us, committing to each other without anyone else around.”
Wanda's smile softens, and she steps closer. “Just us?” Her voice is soft, almost disbelieving.
You almost back out, feeling a bit silly. “Sounds a bit selfish, huh? Forget I said it—”
“No, don't,” she quickly says, grabbing your hand. “It's not selfish. It's actually really sweet, considering everything.”
You bite back the admission that this impromptu plan was born just minutes ago. Maybe the real reason couples are advised against seeing each other several hours before the ceremony is due to moments like this. Seeing Wanda in her dress, so beautiful, it's hard not to just marry her on the spot, forget the past, forget the plans. Moreso, there's something different about this second time. You're both older, wiser, each with a richer history that stretches far and beyond. It feels more layered, as if you've both fought harder for this moment than for anything else in your lives.
Taking another step down, you move closer to Wanda, holding her gaze. Your own dress trails behind you, its fabric whispering softly with each movement.
“We’re really doing this?” you ask.
“Getting a second shot at being your wife, especially after how badly I messed up… I never thought I’d get that chance again,” Wanda confesses, standing so close you can feel her breath. You tower a few inches over her, yet you feel utterly helpless under her spell.
“If it were up to me, I’d have dragged you to city hall the moment you said yes,” she adds. “But I wanted this moment to be perfect for you.”
And it is, you think to yourself. You almost take her face in your hands, but at the last minute, you decide against it, not wanting to ruin the meticulous work of those who spent hours making her look so stunning–efforts you deeply appreciate. Instead, you guide her hand to your chest, right over your heart, feeling its steady beat under her palm. A small, fragile thing, but it's filled with everything you feel for her.
“Wanda Maximoff, I take you to be my wife,” you swallow thickly, trying your best not to ruin your own make-up. “I am wholly and undeniably yours, and I promise to keep choosing you, every single day.”
You look into her eyes, and there's a whole universe in that gaze. “You're my love, my heart, my home. In this life, or the next. Today, I recommit my life to you, with all that I am and all that I have.”
For a few beats, everything goes quiet, allowing your words to truly sink in between the two of you. Then, you let out a breath you didn't realize you'd been holding, just as Wanda tries to catch hers.
“And I promise to be true to us, to what we have now,” she replies, her slender frame trembling slightly under the weight of her emotions. You swipe away a rogue tear that slips down her cheek, then kiss her forehead tenderly. Her promise clearly reflects on her past mistakes. Though you've forgiven her countless times, you understand the importance of her saying it out loud.
Taking both of your hands, Wanda looks up at you, her eyes shimmering and full of hope. “I promise to love you, to stay faithful to you, to be yours through and through. You're my heart, my soul, my everything—and I'm going to spend every day proving that to you.”
And with that, you feel every part of you intertwining with hers. You lean in and kiss her, soft and delicate. It's as natural as it's always been with Wanda, as if your lips remember what your minds might sometimes forget.
-
Later, just outside your childhood home, surrounded by your closest friends and family, you still cry when Wanda reads you her vows. She does the same when you call her “My wife”, and then again when you address her using your last name.
The reception, following immediately after the ceremony, officially concludes with the remainder of the fireworks that Natasha had launched prematurely earlier as part of her plan to create a distraction, allowing you to sneak in and have a moment alone with Wanda. You and Wanda spend the rest of the night barely taking your eyes off each other, basking in the presence of everyone you’ve ever loved.
If life has taught you one enduring lesson, it's that the most precious things are never easily won. And you and Wanda, you've proven time and again that you're cut out for exactly that— fighting against all odds, for the love that's worth every bit of the struggle.
#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff imagine#wanda maximoff x you#wanda x you#wanda maximoff#unbetad#my writing#my fic#elizabeth olsen x reader#elizabeth olsen#wanda maximoff fanfiction#oneshots#wanda maximoff au#fic request#ilgoss oneshot
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Secret Benefits (NSFW)
Part 3 (previous part here)
Sugar mommy!Larissa Weems x Fem!Reader
A/N: Listen, you guys know me, I just had to include some angst in this. So, tiny bit of angst in this chapter, and these two idiots are still convinced that the other one doesn’t want them. OH!! You can see edits I made of Larissa’s outfit in this chapter here. Thank you for the enthusiasm you all show for this fic. Enjoy! <3
You were putting your shoes on when your phone buzzed with an incoming text from Larissa.
I’m here. Xx
She was right on time, of course she was.
You had arranged that she would pick you up from your place at 3, and you would spend the afternoon getting spoiled by her.
You took a last look in the mirror, wondering if you should have opted for a lighter lipstick, not that you had enough time to change it anyway.
Larissa had told you to wear something comfortable, but not too comfortable. “A blouse and some black pants will do just right,” she’d said, and you had sent her a picture of the few blouses you owned, letting her pick the one she wanted you to wear.
Your jaw dropped when you stepped out of your flat and caught Larissa standing by her car, slightly leaning on it. She wore a suit this time, a deep burgundy suit that perfectly matched her lipstick, with a white shirt underneath. Her hair had been let down from its usual intricate updo, her silver curls falling on her shoulders and framing her soft, pale face. She was a vision, truly, and it made you stop functioning for a moment.
“Hello, darling.” Larissa flashed you a smile when you finally reached her.
“Hi, Larissa.” You smiled back, getting on your tiptoe to place a kiss on her cheek, feeling one of her hands on your waist as you did so.
She wore flats this time, and you found that she wasn’t that tall without her heels. She was still tall, sure, but it was perfect. She was the perfect height. She was perfect.
“Hop inside, sweetling,” she said as she pulled the car door open for you, letting you get inside.
The ride wasn’t too long, it was spent with her hand on your thigh as you told her about your week and how you nearly had an argument with your coworker when you’d asked to take the day off, making Larissa chuckle a little.
-
“You said you’ve never been to a place like this, right?” Larissa asked as she pushed the door to the shop open and followed you inside.
“Yeah, it definitely is a first.” You nodded, looking around at the mannequins.
A small brunette quickly made her way over to the both of you, flashing Larissa a wide smile.
“Miss Weems,” she said. “I hope you’re doing well. Would you require some help with your shopping today?”
Larissa looked down at you before looking back at the assistant.
“Thank you, Clarice, but it won’t be necessary. I will let you know if we ever need some assistance.” Larissa smiled and the brunette nodded before going back to where she had appeared from.
“Come,” Larissa said, leading you through the shop. “I was thinking, since this is your first time, that I will let you choose the sets you’d like to try on. I will, however, still pick a couple of things I’d like to see you wearing.”
You gave a nod, happy at the prospect that you’d have some free rein while still being under Larissa’s control.
She walked with you around the shop, giving you advice on which fabric was the softest, which lingerie would be better suited to wear for a whole day and which one would be better for special occasions.
It was almost hypnotising, listening to her talking so passionately about colours and fabric, watching her fingertips brushing the different sets as she spoke.
Larissa chose three pieces for you to try on. A white lace body and a sage bra and panties set. You personally picked a burgundy set, something that matched her outfit, and a royal blue one.
The woman showed you the way to the changing room, helping you carry the pieces you were to try on.
“Let me know what you think of them, will you?” She asked.
You nodded and smiled before closing the curtain and taking a deep breath.
Right, you thought, time to try on some lingerie while the hottest woman alive is waiting right outside.
You took your time undressing and trying on the first set, the blue one. It looked nice, but it wasn’t what you had expected when choosing it.
“I tried the blue set on,” you told Larissa. “It’s beautiful, but not on me.”
Larissa’s eyebrows knitted. Not beautiful on you, what did that even mean? If only she could see you, see what you meant by “not on me”. But alas…
A couple of minutes went by without another word from you until you let out a frustrated groan.
“Larissa?” You called, getting a soft hum in answer. “I can’t close the button at the back all by myself, could you maybe…”
Larissa straightened her shoulders before pushing the curtain aside, just enough to slip herself inside the changing room.
You were trying on the white body she had picked for you, your hands desperately reaching back to close the button.
“Let me,” she said gently, her fingers brushing against the skin of your back as she buttoned the body shut.
Larissa took a step back once it was done, watching as you looked at yourself in the mirror. You felt a little unconscious as you spun on your heels to show her the result. She had picked this model, after all, you thought she’d like to see what it looked like on you.
The tall woman’s breath hitched as she watched you turn around. She had picked the perfect model for you.
“May I?” She asked, lifting her hand and reaching out when you nodded your approval.
“Here,” Larissa said, gently pulling on the lace that covered your left breast and making sure it lay flat against your skin.
Your eyes never left her face as she did so, not even when her fingers brushed against the swell of your left breast and made you shiver.
She looked beautiful, she looked passionate, but there was something else there too, hidden deep inside her blue eyes. Something more primal, something the lion felt when the antelope stepped too close to it.
“Beautiful,” Larissa whispered under her breath. “It’s a beautiful piece, I suggest you get this one. But the choice is all yours today, enjoy it while it lasts.” She winked and took a last up-and-down look at you before stepping out of the changing room.
Another moment went by where you let Larissa know that the sage set, as pretty as it was, simply wasn’t your colour.
You tried the burgundy set last, smiling as you looked at your reflection. It looked great on you, and the thought of wearing underwear that matched Larissa’s outfit was arousing in more ways than one.
You took a deep breath and brushed your fingertips on your breasts, closing your eyes as you imagined them to be someone else’s fingers.
Larissa walked back and forth in front of the closed curtain while you changed back into your clothes. She had managed to steady her heartbeat, taking a couple more deep breaths to fully relax herself.
She was about to take another step when she noticed that the curtain wasn’t properly closed. She didn’t think twice as she reached up and grabbed a handful of the velvety fabric to close it, only to unintentionally catch a glimpse of you inside the changing room.
If Larissa’s heartbeat had successfully steadied previously, it felt like it had completely stopped as her eyes landed on you. It only took less than a second for her brain to register what you were doing with one of your hands splayed on the wall while the other one busied itself between your legs.
Larissa held her breath, her mouth falling slightly open as she watched you. This was better than anything she had imagined when touching herself and thinking of you. She watched for what seemed to be hours, her eyes never leaving your face, wishing to memorise every single one of your expressions.
She wanted to see you climax, she craved to know the face you’d make as you’d reach your peak, if your knees would buckle and if you’d keep touching yourself to overstimulation.
Larissa, the little voice tugged at the back of her mind. Larissa, you shouldn’t. Larissa… Larissa!
The tall woman jumped and quickly shut the heavy curtain, her knuckles turning white as she kept tightly holding onto the fabric.
Larissa closed her eyes, her head hanging low as she let go of the curtain. She hated it. Not the fact that she had caught you masturbating, no. She hated the nagging feeling in her chest, one that she knew all too well.
She remembered feeling that nagging thing for the first time as a teenager when Morticia had started getting closer to Gomez and more distant from her.
That nagging feeling had grown and grown and grown until it had seeped through the cracks of Larissa’s heart and filled her whole body.
She hadn’t been able to properly control her shapeshifting abilities back then, and so she had woken up one day with her skin tinted a deep grassy green. She had hidden in her room for a couple of days, spending hours scrubbing at her skin in the shower only to burst into tears of frustration when nothing helped.
There was nothing she could do about it, Larissa had literally turned green with jealousy.
And she felt it again, as she took a step back from the changing room, that awful nagging pull in her heart.
She was buying you lingerie, beautiful silk and lace that you would wear for someone else. For the person you were thinking about right then with your hand between your legs, the one who would get to peel those expensive pieces off your body.
And it made Larissa sick with envy. She was sure that hadn’t she been able to control herself, she would have turned green again.
If she only had watched you for a moment longer, Larissa would have caught her name slipping from your mouth barely audibly as your thighs clenched around your hand, a strong orgasm washing over you.
It took you a few minutes to fully get down from your high, your cheeks burning in embarrassment as you realised what you had done. Anyone could have caught you. A shop assistant, a customer, Larissa. That last thought made you shiver, you would have died on the spot if the older woman had caught you masturbating.
You quickly got dressed and picked two sets from the ones you had tried on, the burgundy one that matched Larissa’s suit and the white one she seemed to have loved on you.
“Larissa,” you said as you walked out of the changing room carrying the lingerie.
The woman looked up and you could immediately tell that something had happened. She did push a smile, but it wasn’t quite right, it didn’t reach her eyes like it usually did.
“Did you make your choice, darling?” She asked, looking at the pieces in your hands.
“Yes, yes. I like these the most.” You raised your right hand to show her the ones you’d want to keep, earning a nod from the older woman.
“Larissa, is everything alright? You seem a bit-“ your question was interrupted by the same shop assistant from earlier asking you if you had found anything to your liking. You showed her the sets you’d like to keep and handed them to her so she could take them to the till.
Larissa’s hand fell on the small of your back and she guided you to follow the shop assistant. She was quiet, awfully quiet as she pulled her Visa card from her handbag and paid for your items. And still awfully quiet as you both walked out of the shop and back towards her car.
She took the bag from your hand and placed it in the trunk of her car before opening the passenger door for you, only closing it once you were comfortably seated.
You didn’t know what it was exactly, but you could feel the bad energy oozing from Larissa as she sat down by your side. Something had happened, that much was clear, and you feared it was somehow your fault.
A few minutes passed where both of you remained silent, Larissa’s eyes never leaving the road. She stopped at a traffic light and your gaze fell on her hand holding the gear lever, noticing the death grip that she had on it.
“Larissa,” you whispered, your fingers gently wrapping around hers on the lever. The small gesture seemed to be enough to snap the woman out of her trance, her head turning so she could look at you.
“I’m sorry, darling. I’ve lost myself in my thoughts again.” She pushed a small smile, one that looked more sincere than the previous one. “Did you have fun today?”
“I did, I enjoyed every second of it,” you said sincerely, your thumb gently brushing her fingers. “And I don’t want it to end now.” You admitted.
Larissa looked at you for a moment, her sapphire eyes boring into yours.
Is that really all there is to it? She wanted to ask. Are you just company to me and am I just easy money to you?
“We’ll have dinner,” she said, looking back to the road when the light turned green.
“Dinner sounds perfect. Where are you taking me?”
“The Paragon.” She answered without thinking twice.
You noticed the quick look she gave to your outfit, making you shuffle in your seat.
“If my outfit isn’t appropriate for the place you’re taking me to, we could drop by my house and I’ll wear the dress you bought for our first date.”
Date, the word echoed through Larissa’s mind.
“Get in the backseat,” Larissa said, a little authoritatively almost like a teacher would.
“Sorry?” You shook your head, watching as she parked the car.
“Get in the backseat, there’s a shopping bag. Something I bought for you a few days ago and wanted to make you wear on our next…rendezvous.” She explained.
You gave a quick nod and stepped out of the car to quickly get in the backseat.
“Vivienne Westwood?” You raised an eyebrow. Even someone who didn’t know much about fashion would know about Vivienne Westwood.
“Yes, she used to be one of my favourites when I was younger,” Larissa said, turning the engine back on to drive away. “But I’ve become more reasonable now.”
You opened the bag and pulled out the piece of clothing, a long black dress with long sleeves and white patterns.
“It should fit with your flats.” She said, looking at you in the rear-view mirror.
“I absolutely love it, thank you, Larissa.” You smiled and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze, earning yourself a smile from the woman.
“Get changed,” she said. “We’ll be at the restaurant in about twenty minutes.”
“Here?” You frowned.
“Well, yes, here.” Larissa chuckled as if it was the most evident thing ever. “The windows are tinted, no one can see you from the outside.”
But you can, you thought.
“I won’t look.” She added as if she could read your mind.
You stayed still for a moment but eventually gave a nod before starting to unbutton your blouse.
Larissa kept her eyes on the road as much as she possibly could, her knuckles once again turning white as she gripped the steering wheel. She could see you peeling off your clothes in the rear-view mirror from the corner of her eyes. She had to refrain from stealing a few glances, biting onto the inside of her cheeks to keep herself focused.
“Your underwear too,” Larissa said, a little too strictly which made you jump.
“I thought you weren’t looking!”
“And I’m not. But the bag is in the trunk, so I know you haven’t changed that. Pull on the middle seat and reach for the bag. I want you to wear the burgundy one.”
“Oh, wanting to match?” You teased a little, pulling on the middle seat once you had gotten rid of your bra and panties.
Larissa allowed herself one glance then, only one. She was greeted by the expanse of your naked back flexing as your arm reached inside the trunk for the shopping bag.
Her eyes snapped back to the road when you straightened up, but not before she could catch a glimpse of your side boob, her tongue instinctively darting out to wet her lips.
“You can look now,” you said once you had put the lingerie on. It wasn’t anything that Larissa hadn’t already seen.
Larissa waited a short moment before looking in the mirror, not wanting to appear too eager to watch you.
You put the dress on, muttering under your breath as you struggled with the zipper for a moment, making Larissa chuckle softly.
“We’ve arrived,” she said, parking the car in front of the restaurant just as you managed to zip the dress up.
Larissa stepped out of the car and opened the back door, offering you her hand to help you out of the car which you gladly took.
“You look beautiful,” she said, looking you up and down. “It suits you. I thought it might be a bit too long, but it’s perfect.”
“You look beautiful too,” You said, squeezing Larissa’s hand.
The older woman looked taken aback by the compliment, so much so that it made you wonder if it was a rare occurrence for her.
“You do!” You reassured her, grinning from ear to ear. “Thank you for the dress and the lingerie. I’ll wear it thinking of you.”
Larissa's body moved automatically, her hand cupping your cheek as she stepped forward, trapping you between the car and herself.
I’ll wear it thinking of you, your voice sounded in her head. Do you have any idea what you do to me, she wanted to ask. Do you have any idea what you do to me?
“Larissa,” you whispered, taking hold of the hand that was cupping your cheek and kissing its palm, successfully snapping your companion out of her thoughts. The heat emanating from her body mixed with her perfume was unbearable, you needed her to step away before you did something you would regret.
“I’m sorry, sweetling,” she said, taking a step back and pulling her hand away from you.
Your chest was heaving up and down, Larissa noticed. Had she scared you? She hoped she hadn’t. She needed to get a grip on herself and control those…urges.
She doesn’t want you, told the little voice at the back of her mind. Stick that in your brain, Larissa. She doesn’t want you like that.
And she tried, Larissa really tried to get that into her brain. But as you walked inside the restaurant together and you slipped your hand in hers, letting your fingers interlace, she couldn’t help but wonder - what if?
————————————————————————
Taglist: @raspburrythief @weemssapphic @readingtheentrails @larissaoftarthweems @principal-weems09 @kimiinou @winterfireblond @im-a-carnivorous-plant @geekyarmorel @h-doodles @azu-zu @barbarasstar @witchesmortuary @vigelvictoria @m1lflov3rrr @dumbasslesbi @crow-raven-crow @fridays-coven @lilfartbox1 @shawncantwrite @autumn-leaves-chasing-breeze @gwens0girl @aemilia19 @the-bagel24 @lvinhs @thefutureisus2020 @gela123 @a-queen-and-her-throne @rando-mango @wheresmyboo @my-silver-spring @hillary-nicks @ablsk @natasha29romanoff @tallvampirelady12 @canyoufeelmyheartsayinghi @moonyboyjay @i-love-nerdy-stuff @1-800-milfdilf @musicallovinggal @scarlettssub @jasperobsidian-blog @i-write-sometimes-maybe @brienne-the-brave @slytherinthepms @non-binary-frogking @wife-of-gwendolinechristie @anjo-iludidoefudido @imnotafruitt @opheliauniverse
#gwendoline christie#larissa weems x reader#larissa weems#no beta we die like larissa#principal weems#larissa weems x y/n#secret benefits
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Vaggie Carmine AU part. 1
Okay, I’ve got a lot to get through and not a lot of time so here it goes.
Right after the extermination, Clara and Odette are scouring through the streets, retrieving angelic weapons from sinner’s corpses.
In a back alley, the two sisters stumble upon an unconscious girl clad in Exorcist’s gear, missing an eye and bathing in her own golden blood.
They are puzzled by the sight, not understanding why this angel was left in hell nor how did she get hurt.
They contemplate leaving her like this, but after thinking it through the sisters ultimately decide to make it their mother’s problem and bring Vaggie back to the compound.
Having been in the weapon dealing business for a few cycles, Carmilla is no stranger to unexpected complications. Yet, even she does not know how she’s supposed to react to her daughters bringing back an angel with multiple mortal injuries to her doorstep.
While tending to her wounds, Carmilla notices how messy and bloody the base of Vaggie’s wings are. Whoever tore off this girl’s wings, they clearly enjoyed taking their time doing it.
When she wakes up, Vaggie is confused to see that her injuries have been treated, and she was definitely sure that she lost consciousness in a street and not inside a lavish apartment…
And her ponderings stop when she notices the demon standing in the room, observing her with a cold gaze.
She wants to flee, but she is still way too weak from her injuries and fall flat on the floor as soon as she tries to stand up.
Carmilla makes Vaggie sit on a chair before her desk and boy she has questions!
Vaggie avoids giving too much information, answering Carmilla with short answers like “Yes” or “No”, both out of distrust of the overlord and of lingering loyalty towards Heaven.
Still, Vaggie lets it slip that she can’t go back to Heaven.
Carmilla can feel a headache as she thinks about the situation. If the angel is left alone in hell, she’d forever be a potential threat for all of Hell.
And should an overlord manage to make a deal with her, they’d gain an invincible soldier at their disposal.
After weighing the pros and cons for a few minutes, Carmilla comes up to Vaggie with an ultimatum.
“You have two paths in front of you. The first one, the easy one, is where I kill you here and now. A swift shot through the head with one of my angelic weapons, it will be quick and painless for you. Or you can choose the painful one, and make a deal with me.”
Carmilla snaps her fingers, and a golden contract appears before her.
Carmilla will keep Vaggie’s true nature secret, and provide her with shelter and food for as long as she stays in hell. In exchange, Vaggie will have to work for her and will not be able to go against Carmilla’s commands. Those are the terms of the deal.
Vaggie knows better than making a deal with a demon, but what choice does she have? She picks up the pen.
So at this point Vaggie and Carmilla aren’t exactly fond of each other. They’ll be family one day, but it’ll get worse before it gets better though.
#hazbin hotel#vaggie#carmilla carmine#vaggie hazbin hotel#vaggie carmine#vaggie carmine au#vaggie is a carmine au#headcanons
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Forget You, Forget-Me-Not
A continuation based on a reply to my Vaga Snapshot post that i'm writing between cram sessions. The semester ends in 2 days and I'm dying, but it's fine. c: Everything is fine. c: I'm gonna start on the matchup in a couple days when my load lightens, this is just a late night creative outlet for stress c':
Leo Kurosagi x Vagastrom Ghoul Reader (2nd person pov and gender neutral)
Leo goes too far in an argument, and I'll fill this out tomorrow. For now, it's sad. Reader nearly gives up on braking the curse causing the people around them to slowly forget they exist. Fuck I'm tired
Morning edit - I fixed a couple of spelling mistakes, but the description made me laugh so it stays. I'm still fucking tired.
"I'm passing the phone to a No-Name NPC who is so unremarkable that the faculty evaluators actually forgot they existed."
You're ignoring him. It's been four days, and you've barely said a word to anyone, but everyone knows that Leo is somehow the culprit.
It doesn't really matter, you think with dull amusement. Sho and Alan had both been out at the time; the only witnesses to your humiliation were you, Leo, and the general students. Leo's too busy trying to bait you into argument to gloat about his win to the others, and you aren't about to tell them yourself.
The general students are a non-issue, too. Most of them struggle to remember your name most days, they're not about to suddenly start remembering gossip about you.
The thing is, you've had fights with Leo before. Hell, fighting with Leo has something of a hobby to you once you started sharing a living space with him. There's just something about him that brings out the worst in you. The vicious snake-like part, that coils up with anticipation and prepares to strike when you see Leo enter the room. You used to think of it as something that you both secretly look forward to, once the vitriol died down and your metaphorical fight-to-the-death turned into elementary-school bullying.
He's never brought up your curse like that before. It's been tit-for-tat, both of you giving just as good as you get. It's supposed to be fun.
You squash the pang of longing in your chest with snarled anger, only to be drenched in an icy kind of apathy. There are lines both of you choose not to cross these days (you were under that impression at the time, at least.), and the waning acknowledgment of your existence had definitely been one of them. Christ, you didn't exactly pour salt onto Leo's obvious abandonment wounds during these fights, did you?
"What did Leo do to you?" Sho's voice snaps you out of your thoughts.
"Nothing, why do you ask?" Your voice scrapes lifelessly as you meet his eyes with a small, strained grin.
"Really? Then what, you've been moping around the dorms the past few days because you enjoy the smell of sweat and motor oil?"
"You know me, can't get enough of the ol' sugar and spice." The attempted banner falls flat as you make to slip around him and head for your dorm at the end of the hall, only to be held in place with a single strong hand on your wrist. "You ever tried shake weights?"
"Stop," he shuts down your distraction. "You know he's a rat bastard, right? You can't take what he says personally. We're going to find a way to break the curse."
So, Leo told Sho what happened after all, has he?
Sho's words slow to a stop when he notices the dead-eyes and scowl that have overtaken your forceful nonchalance from earlier.
"I wasn't lying, I'm not angry at Leo for what he said to me," Apart from the fact that you kind of are. "He wasn't exactly wrong."
"Shut up already!" You don't turn your head to look at Leo as he appears in the corridor. Figures he would listen in on a private conversation. It's probably him who sent Sho to find you in the first place. Bastards.
In the end, the choice is made for you, and a new set of hands grip your shoulders, yanking you face-to-face with the person you wanted to see least.
"Are you telling me I've been wasting my time on someone this fucking pathetic?" The words would hurt more if the expression on Leo's face were less desperate. If anyone looks pathetic here, it's him. "Of course. You would be willing to sit back and watch as you sink into irrelevance, wouldn't you? If that's what you want, fine." It's funny how adept you've become at interpreting Leo's mannerisms after all of the fighting.
For all of the accusations and insults, the only thing you see in front of you is a hissing kitty cat desperately trying to make amends in the only way it knows how. It's a shit apology, but... Leo isn't the type to put on this type of fit unless he feels threatened and cornered, and, as far as you are aware, the only threat being posed at the moment is you walking away from him.
Your bar sure has sunk low these days, yikes.
"That would probably hurt more if you weren't still gripping my shoulders like we're in a steamy novel. Do you have fantasies of pinning me down often?" You're promptly shoved away and insulted once more, free to turn back and walk back toward your dorm without sparing either boy behind you a glance.
As you prepare yourself for bed, you notice the ache in your chest loosening just enough to let you breath deeply. If just for tonight, you'll fall asleep free from the fear that tomorrow will be the day you finally wake up as a stranger.
#tokyo debunker#leo kurosagi x reader#tokyo debunker x reader#leo kurosagi#im tired stressed and dyslexic#if you see any spelling or grammar mistakes#no you simply fucking didn't <3#theres a cute squeal to this that I'll probably never write where Leo starts taking surprise pictures of reader and posts them#he does it under the guise of humiliating you but its def a twisted way to keep everyone thinking of you
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Falling for You Part 2
VOX x READER Part One Summary: After the incident, you can't stop thinking about Vox. Little did you know, he can't stop thinking about you either. Warnings: NONE. More sassy narrator :0 This was a request for the wonderful @mcueveryday. Enjoy my lovely! REQUESTS ARE OPEN! See pinned post for details.
About a week had passed since what you were referring to as the “incident”. AKA, falling less than gracefully into Vox’s arms and practically making a fool of yourself. Everything had gone back to normal, at least it seemed to. You still did your heavy workload, still hung around Vox every day and late into the night, still drank over 400 mgs of coffee which you knew you should probably stop doing. In fact, the caffeine was probably the reason you were so anxious about the message you just got.
‘Meet me in my office at 6 pm - V’
That was it. You were doomed. Vox was gonna fire you or worse…find out you have feelings for him. Gripping your head in your hands, you lay down on the flat of your desk and let out a heavy sigh. ‘Put on a game face, just get it over with’ repeats over and over. The monitor of your computer reads ‘5:55 PM’. It has been different lately, with Vox, despite the routine returning. As if toeing that line of flirty and professional had become obsolete, a taboo. Never to happen again. You could hardly look at him anymore without remembering the feeling of his warm hands on your waist, how his figure vibrated with a soft static that could’ve(and almost) lulled you into a sense of security and peace that just felt right.
It felt right to Vox too. Him…Vox.. the charismatic and intellectual news anchor of Hell's 24/7 news channel ‘666’, had found himself caught in a web of emotions. He was the embodiment of chaos and cunning, but deep within the gears of his mechanical heart, there was a longing for something more.
You were definitely a force to be reckoned with. Smart, sassy, and absolutely unimpressed by Vox's grandeur, you had managed to keep him in check. You had been by his side for years, witnessing every outlandish broadcast, every flashy promotion, and every whirlwind scandal Vox was involved in. Yet, behind the scenes, an unspoken connection brewed.Vox couldn't quite put his finger on when his feelings for you had shifted from professional camaraderie to something more profound. Perhaps it was the way you effortlessly handled his chaotic demands, or maybe it was the subtle smiles you shared during stressful moments. Nevertheless, Vox found himself captivated by your fiery personality.
Then again, you too, were not immune to the magnetic pull Vox exerted. Admiring his flamboyance, his cunning charm, and the way he managed to always stay one step ahead in the cutthroat world of Hell's media. It was a guilty pleasure, one you dared not confess, let alone to Vox. Hell, you hadn't even written it down in your journal for fear of being discovered.
Vox, normally unfazed by such situations, felt a peculiar nervousness creeping up within him. Sure, he had flings and scandals, nothing a little media and personality couldn’t fix; the man had base and carnal needs after all. But..this…this was different. You were different.
As six pm approached, you cautiously entered his office with your usual charm to conceal your nerves(a clever ploy dear, I wonder how long that will last).
"Need any help, boss?" you smirked, usual confidence masking the subtle vulnerability that lurked beneath.
Vox spun his chair to face you, a smirk gracing his features. Both of you were playing this unspoken game of cat and mouse…who would talk about it first?
"You know, Y/N, I've been thinking," he began, his voice surprisingly soft.
"I've been dancing around this for far too long and I think I have come to a conclusion.” Vox rising from his chair, strode over to you and hovering over your figure. Your eyes widened, and for a moment, the usual demeanor was at a loss. In that vulnerable moment, Vox and your eyes meet, and for the first time, the depth of emotion reflected in each other's gaze. The tension between you crackled, igniting a spark that neither could ignore. Both smirks and facades fell and crashed.
With trembling hands, Vox reached out to caress your cheek, his heart pounding with anticipation. Breath caught in your throat as you leaned into his touch, both of your desires laid bare for each other to see.In a bold move fueled by years of pent-up longing, Vox closed the distance between them, pressing his lips to yours in a fervent kiss. Time seemed to stand still as they lost themselves in the intoxicating embrace, passion ignited like wildfire.
Removing himself slowly, a genuine smile played on your lips as you felt your knees buckle a little. Holding onto Vox for support, he grabs both your hands and helps you up.
Vox chuckled, relief washing over him. "There you go again, falling for me darling.”
“That’s what you go with, you egotistical bastard?," you teased.
With a shared laugh, the tension between them dissolved and in that moment, Hell seemed to stand still.
“Took you long enough you know?
“Y/N, you know better than anyone not to rush me.”
“And you know better than anyone that I run a tight ship! So do remember next time you wish to kiss me, that you might wanna schedule it because damn it Vox! I have been stressing about liking you for centuries!”
“You and every other woman in Hell.”
“Vox…”
“I know, I know. Trust me darling, I have only fallen for you. Or…rather you for me—twice.”
“I hate you, you know that right?”
“On the contrary, you quite like me dear.” The charismatic news anchor and his fearless assistant leaned in, lips meeting in another kiss that felt like an eternity in the making. Turns out you didn’t have much to worry about after all. Still, you do need to lay off the caffeine dear. It's not good for your heart.(Neither is going a few rounds on your bosses desk with your boss but that is a...ahem...long story for another time)
#romance#boss x employee#vox x reader#vox being a sassy fucker#hazbin hotel vox x reader#hazbin hotel vox#radio killed the video star#vox imagine#request#answered#kisses#the vees
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Jingle All the Way
BLACKPINK Lisa 1,600 words
A/N: Blame @friskyriskywhisky for this by sending me this as an ask. Quickie, no edits
"Hi Oppa! Long time no fuck!"
A pleased smile breaks across your face. Lisa emerges from her bedroom, and granted your Christmas wish--watching her dance in that outfit at the concert drove you wild.
"I've missed that ass Lisa. It's been way too long."
"Oh? You mean this little ol thing?"
Lisa turns around, twerking her way over to the couch, the metal plates jingling all the way. She's right in front of you, untying a couple pieces of string. Her hips continue to twerk until each piece of clothing falls off her body, the sound of crashing metal hits the floor.
Her hips are unstoppable, her back turned to you, sliding the underside of your cock in between her cheeks.
"This is fun and all, but it's been WAY too long Oppa. We both know why we're here."
She reaches behind, lathering your cock in slick lubrication while two of your fingers do the same to her puckering hole. The prep work now completed, her right hand holding the base of your shaft while your two hands are spreading apart her cheeks. Her moans of pleasure and pain ring into your ears the moment your head breaches her tight hole.
"Oppa, did you somehow get bigger?!" Lisa pauses, catching her breath.
"It's just your imagination Lisa." A quick slap of her ass is all the motivation she needs.
Lisa bites her lip, lowering her body more and more–tears rolling down her face with every additional inch she takes in. Finally all the way down, she starts slowly making circular motions with her hips.
"Let me get used to this thing again."
Two minutes go by, then Lisa braces herself. She starts off slow, picking up speed with each successive bounce. You grit your teeth, simply along for the ride, Lisa using you for her pleasure.
Lisa is clearly enjoying herself, two months of your cock separated from her most precious hole was definitely too long. Her asshole is now fully adjusted to your length, Lisa humming the tune to her song.
"BOUNCIN BOUNCIN ON MY ASS TONIGHT!" Lisa belts out as she gets to that part of the song in her head, even having the energy to giggle at her own silly ad-lib.
The same story can't be said for you–the tight squeeze of her constricting muscles as she bounces up and down causes a groan to leave your mouth. Your hands grip her waist, trail around to her tight midriff, then slowly inch their way up–taking in the sensation of her smooth skin along the way. Finally reaching their destination, her adorable flat chest, you use two fingers on each hand to harshly pinch and pull at her nipples.
She screams out and moans, this reaction laughably predictable, Lisa's brain always translating pain into pleasure.
"Don't think I forgot what you did to me on your birthday, Oppa." Lisa threatens, purposely flexing her muscles, her asshole now squeezing you tighter than you thought was even possible.
"Ah! Okay stop! I'm sorry!"
Lisa laughs at your pathetic begging. She bounces up to feet, a slight feeling of desperation washes over you when your cock leaves the comfort of her tight asshole. You didn't mean for her to literally stop, but that desperation is quickly washed away when she bends over the couch.
"My legs are getting tired. It's your turn to fuck me Oppa."
A needed break for another application of lubrication and you find yourself behind Lisa, leaning in close to whisper in her ear. "Are you ready?" Lisa silently nods and you're off to the races. Your thrusts start off strong, going in and out without needing to worry if she could take you all in.
Lisa is crying in pleasure, but still occasionally slips in comical dirty phrases trying to make you laugh. "... Pound my ass like it owes you money." being the most memorable. This is what makes fucking Lisa so enjoyable. She doesn't take herself too seriously, and she knows exactly what she wants–in her case, it's always your cock stuffed deep inside her ass.
Lisa's body bends forward, burying her face even deeper into the cushions; perking her ass up even higher. Your length is able to poke and prod even deeper than ever, her moans now muffled by pillows. Noticing her right hand making circular motions against her clit, your thrusts maintain the same tempo, knowing this was her sweet spot.
Her entire upper body tenses up, her left leg starts to quiver. A yank of her shoulder in an attempt to hear her cum is proven to be the correct choice, "You fuck me like a god oppa!" Lisa cries out as her orgasm flows throughout her body. Your thrusts slow down, not wanting to overwhelm her, but not stopping, still in pursuit of your own release.
"Let me go back on top. It's been too long since the last time I've been fucked like this. I need to be in control."
Another needed lube break, and despite being exhausted, Lisa is never one to be a greedy lover. She's back in control, happily bouncing up and down, doing her favorite activity.
Lisa was supposed to be doing this for your sake, but she couldn't control herself. You've seen it enough times to recognize the patterns–her breath becomes labored in a certain pattern, she stops her signature dirty talk and just simply moans. You can tell she's trying to hold it in, trying to consider your needs before hers. You appreciate the gesture, but seeing her cum is quickly becoming one of your favorite past times.
Your hand wraps around, middle and ring finger burying deep inside while your thumb circles her sensitive clit. The pleasure is too intense, Lisa stops bouncing and simply melts into your body. You take over, thrusting your cock upwards into her ass while your hand fiddles around in the front–Lisa is quickly overwhelmed, feeling pleasure from both ends.
"It's okay Lisa, just let go, cum for me." Just the slightest suggestion is all it takes. She releases her pent up orgasm, this one more intense than the last, her entire body tensing up. This also included her ass, the tight squeeze meant you're soon to follow her lead. Lisa feels the twitch of your dick, "Just do it inside." she's barely able to whisper it out. Those were wasted words, you never had plans to finish elsewhere, immediately succumbing to the grip of her ass, making no attempt to hold back.
Lisa feels at least five different spurts of thick hot cum filling up her ass, lightly moaning at each one. Lisa is beyond satisfied, remaining leaned back into your chest; your cock left deep in her ass.
"Can you still go?" Lisa asks you sweetly in between her heaving breath.
"I can still go if you can. Are you sure though? You look exhausted."
Lisa surprisingly shakes her head and picks up her phone from the side table to send out a text. Not even 10 seconds later, a knock is heard on the door. Lisa gets up, your cock finally leaving the warm comfort of her ass, making no effort to get dressed, or more importantly, to stop the stream of cum dripping onto the marble floor.
After answering the door, she returns to the couch, but she's not alone. "I heard this living sex doll talked you into fucking her while we were away." Lisa has one hand wrapped around a leash, leading in another person on the other end. Somi stands next to Lisa, her completely nude body glistening with a thick layer of oil, wearing only a collar around her neck that reads ‘Free Use.’
“What are you, Somi?” Lisa asks, her voice laced with pink venom.
“A free use cum dump for Oppa.”
"Good girl, now go ahead, show him what I taught you." Lisa harshly smacks Somi's ass.
"Do you want to fuck my ass, Oppa? Don’t worry - I can take it!” tilting her head, attempting to imitate the signature sickeningly cute aegyo voice of Lisa.
Lisa claps and cheers at the eerily similar impersonation.
Lisa maneuvers behind Somi, using both hands to cup and fondle Somi’s chest. “God these fucking tits are amazing.” Lisa mindlessly kneads the heavy mounds while looking at you. “I don’t blame you–feeling these in my hands makes me wanna fuck her too. What do you say, Oppa? I have some toys so I can test the limits of this free use whore with you."
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Highland Fling [Avenger!/Kilted! Loki x Fem. Reader]
Part of the Hostile F*cks Collection A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: (7) An insufferably smug Kilted! Loki has a convenient history with the mission location, a scottish castle. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Language. Smuttish. "Friends" w/ benefits. Kilted! Loki. Jealousy. Humour. (w/c 3.6k)
How you had let yourself go along with this idiotic plan was beyond you. A scouting mission to a wedding in the highlands of Scotland with only Loki Laufeyson for company. But Rogers had been insistent. The last hour had passed quietly as you prepped in one of the castle bedooms, changing into a simple swing dress that was definitely not red.
Rolling mountains were visible outside a small window cut into original brick, fog wafting over the rusted mossy landscape. “You have other lovers, Agent... or only me?” Loki drawled smugly while straightening his cravat, spoken as casually as asking you to pass the salt.
Steam from the curling iron stung your eyes as you tried not to let your expression change in the mirror, eyes flickering to him stalking over from the four poster bed. Loki’s reflection took up top to toe of the ornate mirror, a tweed waistcoat and jacket snug to his torso. Muted green, of course. A kilt hung perfectly from his natural waist, the thick apron at the front making a flat expanse over his thighs. The pleated sides swung beautifully as he paced towards you, heavy wool held in place by leather straps and buckles tight to his hips. He adjusted a black sporran hanging over his crotch, the leather detail catching your eye. Intricate metal ornaments set against the black rabbit fur clunked as he spread his legs, the dark green and grey tartan looking unreasonably delicious falling over his thighs. Loki’s lashes fanned against his skin as he lowered his chin, smoothing the rough waves of his hair behind his ears. The wedding party was of an old scots clan, so only a traditionally extravagant show of their heritage would do. Every man would be wearing full kilt regalia. But none, you suspected, would look as incredibly panty-wetting as Loki. “Yes, actually.” you lied, running your eyes casually over his muscular frame, wrapped in woven wool. His carved knees were visible at the hem of the kilt. Just the sight of them made you want to sink to your own. “Just, one...you know other...um-” “Lover.” he purred seductively, enjoying the brief furrow of your brow. You released the curl you’d been holding, shaking it out and setting the iron down. “Yeah...lover, yeah. He’s good. He’s uh...nice.” You could feel your heart beat faster as Loki’s chest pressed against your shoulder-blades, the scratch of tweed nipping your bare back. “How tiresome, I’m am sorry.” he murmured condescendingly, twisting your fresh curl around one long finger. You swatted the hand away with a tsk, rummaging in the small make-up bag sitting on the bed-side table. Your mouth felt dry, the deception making your cheeks heat. You swallowed, turning back to the mirror non-nonchalantly. “What about you?” Why did you ask him that, you fucking buffoon? It’s Loki. He’s got a fucking waiting list.
A sly smile curled at the corner of his mouth. “What do you think?” he said, the implication unmistakably clear.
You let your eyes fall back to your own reflection, inspecting your make-up. “Oh I’m sorry, I thought we were having an actual conversation for once.” you said, tilting your chin as you pressed your eyelashes back. “We have conversations all the time Agent, ‘tis hardly my fault they irritate you so.” You sighed, realising victory was a lost cause. There was a churning in your stomach. “I have a bad feeling about this, Loki.” you murmured, scanning your reflection. He chuckled softly. You could hear his dexterous fingers toying with the buckles at his hips. His warm breath ghosted the bare skin of your shoulders. “All we need to do is assess whether the best man is still in league with Hydra. The signs will be obvious.” Loki took a step back, a flash of green in his raised hand drawing your attention.
A buttonhole appeared, a simple thistle with a ribbon of green and gold wrapped intricately around the stem. He continued to speak as he fastened it to his breast, the tilt of his jawline and the concentration on his face making gratuitous wetness gather in your underwear. “If he is, we can use his connection to our advantage. You are a family friend of the wedding party, a normal and understandable guest. And I…” he stepped backwards, the buttonhole in place, drawing his hands upward from his groin to his chest. “Am your delightfully plain yet devoted boyfriend, Edgar.” “Edgar? Christ.” you murmured dryly before you turned towards him, narrowing your eyes. “You look the same.” How is it possible, you thought as a shiver of desire rolled up your spine, that he is more attractive than his own reflection. Now that you were facing him, the scent of his cologne wafted in tendrils up your nostrils, memories of him fucking you slowly over an earth-shattering orgasm filling your head. That cologne. I didn’t change my sheets for days, you remembered; stomach flipping. “Ah...yes.” he purred slowly, amusement sparking as he registered the glaze in your eyes. “Well everyone else shall see my illusion, but I thought I would leave my true form on display for your eyes only. I know you love to stare when you think I’m not looking so at least this way, our ruse that you are attracted to Edgar will have some semblance of realism.” The spell was broken. Your mouth fell ajar, speechless at his audacity. He was right. But that wasn’t the point. You frowned, concern growing as Loki began to smirk. “Why would I not be attracted to Edgar?” His gaze crawled down your body and back to your piercing stare. “Poor Edgar is rather punching above his weight class, Agent.” You whined in frustration, harshly tugging the lapel of his jacket. “Make him hot, Loki please...come on. Don’t be a dick this one time.This isn’t funny, people I haven’t seen in years are at this wedding.”
“I cannot I’m afraid.” Loki sighed, creases at the corner of his eyes betraying his mirth. ‘Bland and inconspicuous’ were Rogers exact words. And darling, nothing is more inconspicuous than a paunch and a bald spot.”
“A bald…” you trailed off, squeezing your eyes shut with a sharp intake of breath. He was trying to get a rise out of you, and you wouldn’t let him. “I hate you.” you scoffed flippantly, twirling the lipstick between your fingers as you turned toward the mirror. You leant forward, feeling his eyes burning into your reflection. Pressing your newly coated lips together, your gaze flickered up where Loki stood in his signature power stance. His arms were crossed, chin tucked to the cravat rising from his waistcoat as he observed you flip the lid back on the golden tube with a click. “Let’s try that again. Once more with feeling, Agent.” he murmured, swiping a strand of hair back from your collarbone. “Make me believe it.” Loki’s fingertips trailed the delicate skin, lingering a moment too long to be anything less than an act of war. Reluctantly, you turned your eyes up to meet his smoulder in the reflection, resisting the urge push your ass back onto the sporran. “I hate you.” you said, red lipstick punching every syllable. “That’s better.” he smirked. “Now let’s go and pretend to be in love...shall we?”
It felt odd, having Loki – or Edgar -be nice to you. Affectionate, even. Without a hint of innuendo or snideness. Edgar followed you diligently around the room as you greeted old friends, and you surmised pretty quickly that Loki had undersold just how far Edgar was punching above his weight. During one conversation, Loki’s large palm had slid unexpectedly up your cheek and coaxed you into a soft kiss. His tongue had played at the parting of your lips, pressure building and ebbing as he massaged them with his own. “I’ll be right back...darling.” he whispered softly.
He was gone before you realised your eyes were still closed. “He seems...sweet.” an old acquaintance cooed as your pretend boyfriend skulked to fetch another round of free wine. “He is.” you lied, still processing the kiss as you noted the bemusement in her eyes. She looked from you to Edgar, bumbling around the drinks table. “What does he do again?” she asked politely, draining her glass. “Oh, erm...he’s an accountant.” you replied, noting her eyes glaze over. If she knew that he’s actually the fittest man she’d ever see in her life who happens to be a sex god...and an actual god, she’d cream herself with jealousy; you thought wistfully. Your stare was drawn irrevocably back to Loki, holding up each pre-poured glass to inspect it in the light. His long arms bulged beneath the restraint of the tweed jacket, his perfectly fitted kilt swaying with classical eroticism. The line of his calves tightened beneath thick knee-high socks, traditional laces winding up his muscles. Suddenly Loki knelt down on one knee, brushing the kilt up. His thumb and forefinger gripped the muscle, the taut skin of his thigh coming into view before he readjusted the laces at his ankle.For the first time, you noticed a ceremonial sgian-dubh dagger tucked in those stupid socks. Maybe I’ll let him use it on me later, you thought; remembering with a snap that you were in company. Or maybe he won’t ask first.
Loki’s chin tilted towards you, fluttering his eyes upwards to meet yours. He winked.
You felt saliva pool beneath your tongue before you swallowed, turning back to the woman with a manufactured smile. “I think it’s great you’re so into him. He must be a really nice guy.” the woman said, her saccharine lilt making you wince. It was going to be a long night.
Hours later, after the speeches and the meal; you conceded that Loki had officially run out of ways to irritate the everloving fuck out of you. He had spent the entire dinner turning every conversation at the table toward the nuances of asset depreciation and the politics of taxable turnover. Now that they were no longer obligated to stay, everyone at your table of ten had left. “It’s just my personality, darling.” Loki said knowingly under his breath, as you watched the last person splutter their excuses and make a beeline for the bar. “Mischievous?” you huffed through a fake smile, giving the deserter an apologetic wave goodbye. “I find it hard to believe you’re naturally this much of an asshole.” “But you seem to like it so much, Agent.” he grinned, fiddling with a crumpled napkin on the table as his eyes fell briefly to your cleavage. You pursed your lips, scanning the room. “This is a total bust, there’s no hint of Hydra security anywhere. Best man is a dead end.” you murmured, landing back on Loki. “Well, it was a longshot.” he whispered seductively, his fingers dancing over the table to where yours sat. They clasped around your hand, toying affectionately with your rings before raising them to his lips. Turns out, he was actually pretty good at this whole acting thing; but then, you shouldn’t have been surprised. “Perhaps Rogers was misinformed on the lead.” he murmured against your skin.
You let out a staggered breath as memories of the earlier kiss blossomed in your mind. He’s not going to kiss you, no one’s watching, you thought as his blue eyes sparked into yours, the gold specks decorating his irises flickering in the candlelight. You shook your head. “-...like that little quip about charity.” you sniped, yanking your hand away. “No-one’s naturally that much of a dick.” “Are we still talking about that? Agent, that was weeks ago.” he huffed, reaching for the untouched wine in front of him. Silence reigned between you as he drummed his fingers on the table, looking towards the dancefloor before his gaze swung back. “And why did it bother you so much?” “Are you…” you lowered your voice to a hiss, placing a finger on your temple as you leant toward him on the table. “Are you serious? You pretty much said I’m a pity fuck. That’s low, even for you.” There was silence as you both stared ahead. You looked at Loki from the corner of your eye, feeling a wave of renewed anger as a tepid smirk tugged at his lips. “If I was Nat I’d have smashed a bottle over your head.” Loki’s eyes flashed as he turned; smelling prey. “You are every bit as ferocious as Ms Romanoff, Agent...so why didn’t you?” Your stare hardened further. “Because firstly, I don’t want my boss to know who I’m fucking and secondly, I don’t want him to know I’m fucking you.” “Ah.” Loki hummed thoughtfully, biting away a grin. “And there we have it. You’re ashamed of your growing feelings for me. Reason, at last.” “Oh my god, you are fucking unbel-”
“Darling...eh-he-he...oh, delightful...delightful joke…” Loki patted your leg, letting out a chiming laugh while several guests passed behind your seats. He leant forward, tightening his grip on your thigh. You clenched, his firm squeeze filling your head with filth. Loki’s hand slid upward, the rustling of your dress giving way to his touch making you breathe faster. His nose grazed your ear. “You’re forgetting yourself, Agent." he chided. "Concentrate.” The god’s lips brushed your cheek as he released an innocent breath that sounded almost like a moan before returning upright in his chair. He was smirking, naturally. “Edgar could be an asshole, they don’t know” you shrugged, crossing your legs. You could feel the arousal you had been fighting sliding between your thighs as you reached for your drink, before slumping back in the chair. “I think Edgar and I will be calling it quits, actually.” “Edgar is not an arsehole, darling. He is a fine, if rather...unfortunate looking, fellow. And you’re lucky to have him.” Loki said calmly, enjoying the view of your glare from his peripheral vision as he sipped his wine. He set it down with a theatrical sigh. “Besides, this might be a perfect opportunity for you to confront your prejudice toward me.” Your eyes widened. “Excuse me?” “Charity.” he said, as if it explained everything. Your felt your heart beat faster, stirrings of a memory you couldn’t yet place. Your brows knitted together. “Yes? And?” The blue of his eyes darkened in the low light from the antique candle centrepieces as he leant closer, his eyelids cast down before they fluttered innocently upward. “Does the mortal child looking for a marrow donor not ring a bell in that pretty head of yours?” Your stomach dropped, suddenly remembering how he had stepped in at the eleventh hour to help with the nationwide campaign to find a donor at your reluctant request. Apparently, he was a big draw for female demographics aged 18-45. ‘Could you be her hero? Remember, not all heroes...wear leather’. Fuck, you’d hated that line. You felt your core flutter at the memory of watching him make love to the camera, his chiselled face set in a rare, wide-eyed sincerity as he wrapped in one take. “I thought not. How quick you humans are to seek the conclusion you wish to find.” Loki’s smug glee was palpable. You spluttered, your mind whirring. “But...the way you said it.” “With my voice?” he intonated, laden with sarcasm. “The assumption that I was referencing our trysts? That was created...here.” he tapped your forehead lightly with one long finger. You scoffed, grabbing your clutch. “Your witchy mindfucks won’t work on me, Laufeyson.” you hissed, pushing up from the chair. “Is that right?” he said, a smile tugging the corner of his mouth. “Yes.” you spat, taking a step towards the door before Loki grabbed your wrist. “Let me escort you, we shouldn’t draw attention to ourselves with a scene.” He scanned the room. People were making their way to the dancefloor as the party began, shards of mirrorball light bouncing against the chunky ancient stone brickwork. With a grimace, you conceded he was probably right.
You tugged your arm from his grip. “Fine.” you said, waiting for him to stand. God, I’d forgotten about the kilt, you thought; as it swung into view. The flat apron of tartan at the front creased, the unstoppable bulge of his cock flashing momentarily against the thick fabric. That wool has like...layers, you thought, bamboozled by the ridiculousness of his anatomy. “Come.” he muttered, jutting his arm. You slid your own around it, making your way together to the heavy doors. The music grew fainter as Loki walked purposefully through a series of winding corridors, medieval style torches hanging from the brickwork flooding the small spaces with an orange glow. “Where are we going? I don’t think we’re supposed to be here...” you murmured, your head swirling with sensory overload in the flickering gloom as Loki squeezed your fingers around his bicep. “I want to show you something…” he whispered, as a dripping sounded from the stretching darkness beyond. You were acutely aware of every click of your heels underfoot breaking the silence. He led you deeper away from the modernised area of the castle, the stone wall beneath your fingertips feeling moist as you trailed along it. You and Loki side-by-side took up the entire passage, a sliver of ebbing light appearing from around an upcoming turn. “Is your cock pierced again- is that why you’re making such a fuss?” you blurted with a need to fill the intimate, crushing silence. Loki’s low chuckle echoed. “You liked that, didn't you Agent? I could tell.”
You were suddenly glad for the darkness, feeling your cheeks flush. Turning the corner, you gasped as an old chapel room came into view, a window cut into the high wall sending a single beam of dust-filled light across the floor. Stern arches raised on either side of the walls, a stale musk of history heavy in the air. As you stared up at the vaulted ceiling, you felt Loki’s arms slide around your waist from behind. “I was almost wed in this chapel once.” he murmured coyly, releasing a groan into your ear on the exhale. He rubbed his cheekbone possessively against your temple, his voice deepening. “What are the chances?” “Wed? Wha-” “Hush, Agent.” he purred, spinning you to face him. You stared up at his insufferably perfect face, the sharp features carved like marble; set for a scene which had clearly already been decided. You shivered, rough brickwork scratching your skin as he nudged you backward. “You already know that I have enjoyed occasional Midgardian dalliances, throughout my lifetime” he hummed, trailing his knuckles down your neck. “Sex and violence are so much more potent, within this realm. So...raw.” “And motorcross…” you gasped, shrugging his tweed jacket over his biceps and casting it to the ground. You popped the buttons of his waistcoat, as he chuckled; letting it slide away. “Indeed” he purred, pushing you back against the wall before untying the cravat from his neck and tossing it aside. Loki un-tucked his shirt from the kilt waistband, before gracefully fingering the buttons and letting it join the pile of discarded clothing on the bricks below. Only the kilt remained. He placed a palm flat against the wall behind you, inhaling dramatically against the skin of your neck. A whimper snuck past your lips as you felt the lustful god buck against you, his chiselled torso flat against your fragile body.
“I spent some time here in the mid-1700s. There was mischief afoot amongst the Scots which I felt obliged to...encourage.” he hummed, playing with the shoulder of your dress. You frowned. “Are you talking about the Jacobites?” Loki chuckled, placing a sucking bite against your skin before answering. “Indeed. Norns, I haven’t heard that stupid name in a long time.” His forefinger caressed the hollow of your neck, making you tilt your chin upward with a moan. “Loki…we shouldn't-” you whispered, as your fingers combed his hair back, tugging gently. “-It’s all a bit dull, really.” he continued, as your palms slid down his shoulders and over his chest. “I was caught ravishing the clan leader’s daughter. Against this very wall, in fact." He bit his lip, running his eyes ravenously down your keening body. "She was howling my name with such enthusiasm the entire warrior guard kicked down that door ready for slaughter, axes in hand. Naturally, her father tried to marry us on the spot.”
Your mind spasmed, thinking of Loki rutting into another woman as she came against this stone three hundred years ago. “Needless to say...events did not fall in their favour.” Loki hummed, his knuckles trailing appraisingly over the dent of your cheekbone. He really is a timeless wanker, you thought; realising your hand had begun to palm his engorged cock beneath the kilt.
The god’s fingers curled around your throat, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Does it arouse you, thinking of me with another?” he groaned, rocking against your hand. “She’s dead.” you gasped, feeling him grow thicker beneath your touch. “Mmm...it’s still possible to be jealous of a dead lover, Agent. Would you like the chance to best her? She was rather memorable.” You gathered a clutch of thick wool containing his throbbing girth in a tight fist, squeezing harder than you ever had in your life. "I can't stand you Loki, I don't care who you fuck now...never mind hundreds of years ago." Loki hissed above you, shoulders rolling back, his mouth falling open. “Ahhhh” he gasped, eyelids fluttering shut as you doubled down. “If you are trying to make me suffer, Agent...I must confess, that is not the way to do it.��� “So you’re a true Scotsman tonight, huh?” you goaded, raising an eyebrow as you tugged the rough wool covering his cock. “At least...in one respect. If lacking in others. I guess that’s something.” Snideness coloured your words, enjoying the twisting of his eyebrows as he searched for the insult beneath his pleasure. There was no hint of underwear beneath the garment as Loki flinched, his knees beginning to buckle as you roughly jacked him against the fabric. “Oh, Agent” he hummed, fingernails scraping against the wall behind you as his eyes rolled back. Loki let out a single animalistic grunt, before swatting your wrist away from its grip. He had found the insult.
His fingers wrapped around your forearm, suddenly pulling you across the chapel floor towards an imposing stone staircase in the corner. A thin rope stretched across the opening, a worn sign hanging lamely in the middle before he tore it aside. Battlements, it read. You gasped as the world upended. Loki had thrown you over his shoulder. With arms hanging by his ass, you watched the kilt swing methodically as your half-hearted cries of protestation choked the air, blood thundering in your ears. You felt rough layers of clothing manifest over his bare torso as you squirmed, the tartan changing in waves beneath your palms as he bounded up the rough-cut stairs two at a time.
“Tonight you’ll see just how much of a true Scotsman I can be.” he muttered darkly, before kicking the heavy door at the top of the staircase wide to the night air with a shuddering thud.
Continued in Highland Fling - The Battlements Part of the Hostile F*cks Collection
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(Note that @angelsadvocate96 also included a screenshot of AL's post, which I am omitting here since we have two already.)
I did see this Insta story yesterday, and again...wow. Before I go any further, I want to be clear that my issue with this has nothing to do with it being "inappropriate" (depending on your definition, of course). I am by no means a prude, and it is not and should not be shocking that Michael and AL have had sex. We know this, and we have proof of this, so that is not a big thing. I do, however, think it is interesting that just a few days ago, we had Michael being David's "boyfriend" and now here's AL seemingly marking her territory again. So that makes me wonder what has suddenly changed.
Also, as angelsadvocate96 mentioned, this does indeed seem to be a Georgia-style brag...but it falls flat. It doesn't help that "sleep next to" is just a really weird turn of phrase, and could as easily mean AL and Michael's beds are next to each other (a la every 1950s TV sitcom) as it does that they're sleeping in the same bed. It also stops short of being overtly sexual (because she didn't say "sleep with"), and so ends up in that weird place of trying to be scandalous, yet also not. But when you have Georgia out here five years ago talking about how much she and David enjoy anal sex and possibly her pegging him, Anna's "innuendos" just seem completely tepid in comparison.
The other thing that stood out to me is the mention of Ian McKellen, the #lifegoals hashtag, and Anna seemingly bragging about the fact that one of the most important parts of her relationship with Michael is meeting celebrities. We knew this already from the Dolittle premiere and the now-infamous picture of her meeting Rami Malek, as well as the fact that she follows many of Michael's co-stars and other famous figures connected to him on social media, and has had a history of replying primarily to comments from those people, to the exclusion of most everyone else. But I'm genuinely confused as to why you would ever want to give that impression of your relationship, especially on a post that's supposed to be promoting a TV appearance of his.
Her post also made me wonder how aware Anna really is of Sir Ian or his work, as I wasn't sure I could see her being a big fan of his...until I realized she shared this post from her and Michael's PR person (@dobbscld). The OP mentioned Sir Ian specifically, and knowing that, it suddenly all made sense. But it also struck me that, rather than make a post or story of her own to promote Michael, AL shared a post from PR...and once again made a post about Michael into a post about herself. Just as we've seen before.
Honestly, I don't think I would even mind this post or similar posts AL has made that much if it felt like Michael was even remotely a part of it. But it's the very fact that he never talks about her or their relationship (and not in a "he's a private person" kind of way) that makes it so awkward. And here he was going on Graham Norton to promote his directorial debut--a project that is hugely important to him--and Anna just brings it down to the most base level, making it seem like she does not take Michael or his work seriously. And I can't think of anything more embarrassing than that.
So yes, that was my reaction to AL's Insta story yesterday. Again, this is just my perspective, and I'm glad to hear from folks in the comments on this post with their thoughts. Thanks for writing in! x
#moriarty-sisters#kime11e#angelsadvocate96#reply post#michael sheen#welsh seduction machine#the graham norton show#it's like the more she tries to make people think there is something to be jealous of#the more it seems like there is nothing to be jealous of#and the more she tries to look like she owns him the more obvious it is she doesn't#because how in the world can you take a relationship like this seriously#i'm genuinely asking#choices#not all of them good#but i will leave it to my followers to make up their own minds#anna lundberg#discourse
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Temperance
Synopsis: Tiriel has body image issues after giving birth, and Astarion is just too eager on having sex with his beautiful wife once again.
Thanks @tragedybunny for beta-reading!
Tags: smut, vaginal sex, praise kink, post-partum body image
Read on AO3
Masterlist
Headcanons
Astarion puts away the book and looks in the cradle. His baby girl is sound asleep, her pointy ears twitching like the ones of a kitten.
He still can’t believe it’s all real, though, he’s had three months to accept it. A tiny newborn who he still hopes won’t be a dhampir requires all the time he and Tiriel have.
Astarion doesn’t mind. If anything, he enjoys being a father.
He touches Alethaine’s digits. One day, she will grow up and become a beautiful Elven woman. What voice will she have? What face features? Will she look more like him or more like her mother? Or maybe he will see some unfamiliar features in her - Tiriel’s Elven ancestors or his own?
The vampire hears soft steps from the bathroom - Tiriel finished washing herself. Astarion would have loved to join, but someone has had to keep an eye on the baby.
He leaves the nursery and leaves the door half open.
“Our little princess can fall asleep only if I read her Elven fairy tales. She definitely has standards!”
Tiriel doesn’t respond. She is naked, drops of water still on her body.
And the Half-Elven warrior is absolutely stunning.
Her breasts got bigger during pregnancy, and Astarion hopes they will stay like that even when she stops breastfeeding. Freckles dance all over her skin, a gift from her ancestors, the human clans of the Sunset Mountains.
Her stomach is no longer flat, and he feels an unstoppable desire to touch those soft folds of skin. There are stretch marks in the lower part and on her thighs, long white lines resembling lighting.
Astarion feels like his trousers tighten between his legs.
Well, one year of celibacy is a form of torture.
“Tell me the truth. Do I look disgusting?” Tiriel asks. That’s when he realizes she looks miserable. Many years ago, at the beginning of their relationship, she had this same facial expression when people pointed at her mixed ancestry. Both elves and humans.
“What are you talking about?”
“I look in the mirror and don’t recognize myself. While I was pregnant, it was one thing, but now... Fuck. It’s just as if my body is all distorted.”
“Your body is a fucking miracle that gave me my precious treasure of a child. Don’t you dare speak ill of it.”
“Just look at me!”
“I am looking at you.”
Drops of milk drip from her swollen nipples.
The tightness in his pants becomes unbearable.
Gods, if he doesn’t put his cock inside Tiriel, he will cum in his pants
Astarion pushes Tiriel to the bed, and, before she manages to object, he gets rid of his shirt and unlaces the front of his trousers.
He hovers above his wife and presses his lips against hers, kissing her desperately, hungrily. Tiriel grabs his shoulders, pulling him closer to her - she is strong, his fierce wife.
He pulls away a bit and there is a thin strand of saliva connecting them. Astarion recognizes the fire in Tiriel’s eyes - all too familiar. Desire. Pure and honest, the desire of a woman who was never ashamed of her nature.
Astarion goes down to her breasts. He sucks her left nipple, tasting the essence with his tongue. Then, the other. Tiriel moans and grabs his hair which makes him groan.
He keeps tracing his kisses -her stomach feels so warm and so soft, like a pillow. So much better than it used to be.
Astarion gets on his knees and grabs Tiriel’s hips to put her bottom on his lap. Now when her legs are spread he can see the vulva in all its glorious details.
“Did it change?” Tiriel asks.
He touches her clit making Tiriel whimper. Her whole body, busy with growing a child inside, was missing Astarion.
“It did. A bit” he says, studying her womanhood.
“I knew it” Tiriel sounds disappointed.
Astarion sticks his finger inside, feeling the familiar wetness.
“Your pussy is a fucking temple which is fit for both lovemaking and birthing children. Don’t desecrate it with your curses.”
He finally manages to get rid of his trousers and with no further hesitation sticks his cock inside.
“F-fuck” he groans feeling the walls tightening around him.
Tiriel pulls him to her and kisses him. Her legs wrap around his torso pressing his lower part to her.
“Does it feel the same?” she asks, her eyes half-lidded,
“It feels better. Much… better…”
He thrusts harder and harder, making Tiriel whimper helplessly. Her nipples drool with milk and her clean body is sticky with sweat.
Tiriel presses him to herself, piercing his back with her nails. Her breath is as hot as the campfire, and her kisses make him insane.
Astarion wishes to prolong this pleasure but his body doesn’t obey. He cums with a low groan, feeling his release coating his cock.
Tiriel grabs a handful of his hair and makes him kiss her.
Afterwards, he lies beside her, wrapping his hands around her chest.
“You know” she pants. “If you were drunk on blood right now, I would already be pregnant. My cycle has been restored recently.”
“Hm, give me time to go to the woods. I will return and fuck another child into you.”
She laughs. “No, let’s wait another twenty years. Once Alethaine is an adult, you can fuck her brother inside me.”
“A sister. Another girl,” he corrects.
“I thought the second baby must be a boy?”
“Nah, I want to have daughters. Sons are boring.”
“I think most of the men in this world would disagree.”
“Most of the men are morons,” he kisses the crown of her head.
Suddenly Tiriel elbows up and he realizes she sits on him, her breasts swaying in anticipation.
“What are you doing, love?”
“I haven’t had sex for a year, too, and meanwhile you could, at least, pleasure yourself with your hand, I definitely didn’t have the time of my life.”
“Guilty as charged.”
“Did you think one round would satisfy me?”
Astarion feels his erection growing again, and he places his hands on Tiriel’s wide hips.
“I hoped it wouldn’t.”
--
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Next side story, The Training of Erasmus! 🩷✨
I really enjoyed the world-building in this, and I more so than ever want nice things for Erasmus (and Kallias!)🥰
- Starting off, it’s immediately clear to see the difference between the nature of pets in Vere and the nature of slaves in Akielos where submission is given willingly and cultivated in a very different, almost scholarly way. I like that Erasmus clearly takes pride in what he does and enjoys it.
- I also really appreciate the subtlety and class of Pacat’s writing, especially given the nature of the setting. It makes the whole thing much more alive, and thus palatable to read, because this pleasure slave training could easily sound like a terrible Wattpad “how tf did this get published?’ book, but it doesn’t. It’s immersive and believable as part of the Akielon culture.
- Erasmus is really just so keen to please, and has so much pressure on his shoulders given his training. Now he has his transition into adulthood and still feels like he cannot truly reciprocate the love shown him, even by his friends. Conceal don’t feel never did anyone any good. Let it go, Erasmus.
- Every time Akielos’ marble floors are mentioned I think about how hot it must be to walk barefoot on that in the sun. All the slaves hopping and skipping in fear of burning their feet. Like walking next to a swimming pool in summer cursing your scorched toes. 😂
- The training grounds give very convent vibes, peaceful and concealed… and everyone is a virgin.💀
- If I were one of the trainees, I’d be terrified that one tiny scar from falling is enough to render the years of training useless. I fell over a flat fuckin surface this week. Makes me wonder if jealous slaves trip each other on purpose to get ahead.
- So much emphasis is put on physical appearance and the notion of perceived purity. I find this interesting actually, and it makes a real change to see these kinds of expectations put on a male character.
- Iphigen’s name was a cool choice! The mythological character of Iphigenia was killed as a “maiden” (Iphigenia in Aulis) - however, in some versions of the story (Cypria) -Artemis, the goddess of maidenhood, saves her before her father, Agamemnon, can kill her as a sacrifice… yeah ain’t foreshadowing a bitch lol
- I love that there is absolutely not a mean bone in Erasmus’ body. He isn’t jealous of Kallias, and supports him wholeheartedly in his endeavours. Erasmus’ kind nature has proven time and time again to be one of his greatest strengths. You don’t have to be a warrior to have power.
- I’m glad Erasmus got to experience real affection before truly becoming a slave, even if he was prevented from manifesting it fully. He experienced love that wasn’t transactional. ♥️
- Aden on the other hand is turning green and sweetheart, that is NOT a good look for you. Being jealous of Erasmus is like hating a cotton ball.
- Poor Erasmus just wants to read his cute love poems and is forced to memorise the Iliad, Odyssey, and Bibliotheca because Damen has the literary tastes of a five year old who likes swords. 😭😭
- I also love the detail that there’s an Akielon Homer and everyone is like “ffs how do you have THAT MUCH to say about one war??” Because same honestly. Thank you very much for the tedious lists of boats and lineages. Very helpful. I feel you, Erasmus 😂
- I like the mention of how Damen’s eyes are known to roam, and this serves only to highlight how down bad he is for Laurent later on. That boy fell HARD.
- “I wish you could have been my first.” 🥺🥺🥺 Torveld better fuckin take Erasmus to see the world like he wanted.
- Erasmus must have felt so betrayed by that kiss, but it 100% saved his life, and he definitely had to acknowledge that privately some time later on. Kallias was also his first kiss.🥲
- There’s a certain brutality in itself that comes with training the slaves for “innocence”, and placing purity on a very high pedestal. Your value being entirely attached to your virginity. So much so that one touch can render you ‘useless’ and ‘tainted’.
- I like that Erasmus doesn’t violently resent Kallias for the kiss even immediately after it happens- he’s confused and upset, but he must have known there was a reason.
- And here’s my million dollar question: WHAT HAPPENED TO KALLIAS?? 😨
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pressure
pairing: rob x photographer!reader
warnings: none
note: definitely just a filler chapter because i want the inital attack to be its own! that’s coming next;)
word count: 3.1k
part 1 | this is part 2! | part 3 | part 4 | part 5
——————♡
Day three out of the car, it’s hot, humid, and it’s only getting worse as it nears noon. The group has stopped for a break on a small cliffside that overlooks a larger part of the river you’ve been traveling along. It’s been a bit tense today, Michelle’s attitude not faring very nicely due to a few spats here and there, being scolded by John, getting upset with James. However it doesn’t bother you too much, focused on actually enjoying this experience and currently, focused on your job.
Stood near the edge of the small cliffside, your frustration is growing with each snapshot you get. It just isn’t right.. it feels off, not satisfactory. Rob’s watching you, keeping an eye out. The way you’re so close to that edge makes him feel nervous, has him not wanting to tear his eyes from you. He’s leant against a tree, arms crossed over his broad chest as he stares. Eyes follow your movements as you crouch down, then sit on the edge of the rock, legs over the edge, leaning forward a little, and God you’re trying to give him a heart attack.
“Be careful!” He calls out, louder than he intended to as he walks over, crouching down next to you with a hand finding your back.
“I’m fine, just frustrated..” Is the reply you offer, sighing as you flick through the photos you just took.
“Yeah, that’s what concerns me. I’m worried your frustration is going to lead you to making a dumb choice.” His tone is flat, “The view isn’t going to be that much better from a position that gives me a heart attack.”
Narrowing your eyes with no real malice, you sigh. It’s like you can physically see the shot you want, but can’t get. A little pout actually forms on your lips as you look down at the water below. “Yes it would be.”
Rob sighs, leaning in a little more, “I really don’t think it’s worth risking your life for a photo.” His hand drifts from your back to tuck some hair behind your ear, the touch gentle like he’s trying to distract you.
So focused on your frustration, it takes a moment for his action to register in your brain. A slight flush rises on your cheeks, easily blamed on the sticky heat, but it makes his own heart speed up nonetheless, “I know, it’s just frustrating because I can see what I want but can’t get it.”
“What exactly is it that you want?” he asks, keeping his tone a bit playful but also genuine. He’s not going to deny that it’s adorable to see how upset you are over getting a certain angle.
“The water but- from down there. It’s too high up here.” For the photo you really want, you’d need to be about six feet down the cliffside, halfway down. There is a trail below.. but it’s a long drop if you were to fall.
Deep blues glance downwards, studying the area, “It’s a pretty steep drop, how did you exactly plan on getting down there?”
“I didn’t.” You mutter, “I was gonna sit here pouting until we have to keep hiking.” Stubborn as you are, you’re smart enough to not actually risk your life.
He laughs at the blunt truth, looking back to you again. He stares for a moment before speaking, “You really want that photo, don’t you?”
“It’d look so nice,” you sigh, frowning down at the pretty water, calm and flowing into a large lake, ‘I wish I was like one of those goats that climb mountains.”
He chuckles again, cheeks a bit red against his tanned skin, “Alright, what if I offered to help you down there?” In his mind, it’s not that drastic of a descent. Not halfway at least. There are rocks below on a steep side that you could use to step on, the key would be being able to stay steady against the drop. His words make you stare at him for a moment. Surely not, he’s the professional here after all, jungle wise, he shouldn’t be encouraging this.
“It’s fine, really. I’ll forget about it before the nights over. It’s just frustrating right now.”
“No, no really, I’m serious.” He shrugs, not willing to back down. He likes adventure, and after seeing it he’s sure he can get a safe path down, at least part way. “I promise I won’t let you plummet to your death. Besides, maybe you’re right, it’ll look way better down there.”
“Well- how? One wrong step and I’m falling for sure.” You spare another glance down, feet dangling over the edge. It’s steep, maybe not as steep as the mountains those goats climb but.. steep. Large rocks embedded in dirt, big tree roots sticking out, even a large tree growing from the cliffside.
“Oh, the normal way, carefully.” Rob retorts bluntly, making you stare. He twists and lowers his pack, pulling some rope from his bag, “The trick is to not fall.”
“You’re serious?”
“Dead serious.” He nods, standing up and holding a hand out, which you take, “If we start to slide, I’ll have you. You just worry about getting the photo.” He helps you stand and then unfurls the thick rope, tossing it out on the ground. He takes the end and loops it around the tree he was leaning against earlier, securing a tight knot on it and tugging hard, “John!” He calls, beckoning the other man over. He exchanges a few words, and John stays by the tree to keep an eye on the rope. You just watch, camera resting against your stomach where it hangs from the strap around your neck. Is he serious? Isn’t this kinda dangerous?
Rob has the rope secured around his waist, testing the strength as he walks back over. Without a word his arms wrap around you, tugging you close. It startles you, his strength with just a simple action impressive and making something flutter in your gut. “Easy, let me do it.” He’s close to your ear, muttering lowly as he steps you both closer to the edge. Lowering down, he keeps a strong hold on you whilst digging his heels into the side, letting the rope help to keep him upright as he uses the rocks and firm dirt to step down.
He’s holding you like fucking nothing, making heat stir in your stomach. Are you really that easy? That this is all it takes? One strong man and you’re a puddle of mush? Your arguing thoughts are interrupted by hearing him grunt in your ear, his entire body pressed against yours, and you finally speak, “This- this is good.” He’s managed to get you both lowered down enough to where the top of his head is out of John’s view above, and you’re a bit nervous to go any further down even with the rope holding Rob steady. He holds you still, keen eyes watching as you take a rapid succession of photos. His arms are tight around you, digging into your sides, hands clasped on them. Your own feet knock onto the tops of his boots and it clicks that he’s just fully holding you up. A dull throb of arousal forms between your thighs, only for a moment as you swallow, “Um- that’s good. I got enough.”
Your hand finds his forearm, the other holding your camera. Rob can feel his skin tingle where you touch, skin warm and smooth. The contact sends a jolt of arousal up his spine, something he has to will away quickly, “You sure? Did you wanna go lower?”
The idea makes you feel a bit nervous even though you trust him, so you shake your head. He hums a small noise so you know he understands and then begins to back up, using the path he took down and one hand on the rope- Lord help please he’s holding you with just one arm-
“Get some good photos?” John is right there at the top to help you up first, snapping you from that flustered daze.
“Yeah! Yeah, turned out nice.” Liar, you didn’t even look at them yet. John helps Rob up and then the latter begins to undo the knot in the rope around his waist. The professor claps a hand onto Rob’s arm and then walks to the tree to undo the rope there.
You clear your throat, sparing a glance at Rob as you hold your camera, needing something to keep your hands steady, “Um- thanks.”
His eyes flit to your face, hands on the rope, scanning over the pinkish hue on your cheeks, before grinning, “No problem.”
You need some water.
—
Some hours pass along the trails. John getting a scorpion off of Tim’s back, Michelle and James arguing at the rear of the group, crossing a small river and venturing into a shadier area of the jungle.
“I’m not too sure- actually..”
“Wha- aren’t you supposed to be an expert?”
“Oh God it’s huge!”
You’re looking on as John joins the others, James filming, Maria sat off by herself watching. Lisa’s found.. something, though you aren’t sure what it is yet. They’re all staring behind the log of a fallen tree covered in moss.
“Is it awesome?” James’ question makes Lisa laugh, she’s actually excited, agreeing that it is indeed awesome. John climbs over the tree, on one end as Rob is on the other. He waves his hat, seemingly distracting something, and you forget all about your camera for a moment to just watch in pure curiosity. Even Rob is grinning big. Seconds of silence pass before John moves quick, grabbing whatever it is with Rob’s help.
A fucking python. A beautiful, long, yellow python. The professor carries him over the log, stepping down onto the trail with Rob’s hand on his arm for balance. The creature is coiled up, twisting its body along John’s front as he speaks, “Now he’s obviously a constrictor, a python, but, that’d be strange because they’re not indigenous to this area. Now.. that means he’s either a migrant species so.. come in on a boat or something..” They’re all so happy, James filming, and Rob keeps reaching a hand up to pet over the python, keeping it distracted from going closer to the professor's face.
“Or..” He continues on, “there’s an emergence of a new species in this area.. and if that’s the case, that’s what we came here for.” You’re already snapping photos, stood off to the side. Some of them you find yourself zoomed further onto Rob, on his pretty smile as he pets the snake, before snapping out of it and getting a wider shot of the actual animal and not your crush. They start to do a piece for the camera itself, talking about how one of the researchers found him basking in the warm sunlight. The python twists its tail end around John’s leg, earning some chuckles as Rob untangles him and then takes the python from John’s arms to take him back to the spot he was resting previously, Michelle speaking with the professor to the camera James is holding.
You follow Rob, snapping some photos. God his arms are so muscular.. strong.. he held you so easily earlier.. veins stand out, muscles flexing as he carries the no doubt heavy animal back to the fallen tree. Heat coils in your core as you flick through the photos, eyes trained on Rob in each one rather than actually checking if it’s a viable picture or not. He could probably lift you and f-
“Get some good ones?” His voice startles you, your face red, and you nod quickly.
“Yeah! Yeah, um- that’s really cool. This is what you guys wanted.” Lord he gave you a heart attack. His hand finds your back, rubbing over it lightly as a silent appreciation. No more words are exchanged as John shares a hug with Lisa and then Rob, before the group carries on.
—
Further west back towards the river, the group stumbles upon the most beautiful waterfall. It’s huge, capturing James’ attention as he films it. You hear Tim vaguely say something about crocodiles, making the professor laugh loudly. You stand idly, admiring the falling water as James sets his camera down. Michelle’s looking up and doesn’t notice when James runs up and puts his arm around her, but she definitely gets upset and snaps at him. They’re bickering at the base of the waterfall, making your eyes practically start twitching.
“Will you two move!?” You yell, catching their attention above the water falling, crashing into the otherwise calm river. With a wave of your arm, obviously agitated, they scurry out of the way, Michelle looking pissed off and James a bit sheepish. Rob noticed, obviously, he hasn’t been able to really keep his eyes off of you for most of the day, and he huffs a small laugh, sauntering over. He doesn’t even say anything, watching as you take some photos, and then you turn around to look for him and light up when your eyes meet his, “C’mere, go stand by the water where they were.”
He complies easily, he doesn’t think he could tell you no even if he wanted to. Finding himself in the spot where the other two just were, he rests his hands on his vest, looking up at the water. He’s obviously aware you’re taking photos of him, so he tries to relax his face, trying not to look too stiff, probably overthinking the entire state of his body.
“Okay!” You call to him, voice a bit fainter over the sound of the water. He hears you though, looking over at you as he makes his way closer whilst you take a few steps to excitedly show him your camera screen, “They look good, huh?”
And oh.. they do. He actually smiles at the sight of himself. They’re zoomed in closer than he imagined, good quality, capturing his steely gaze as he was admiring the waterfall and looking up at the cliffside high above. “I-.. yeah.. yeah I really like these.” He grins big, smiling down at you. Your attention is focused on your screen, flicking through the handful of photos, but he’s watching the sweet look on your face, the pure excitement shining in your eyes.
“Can you take my photo?” James appears beside you two, asking excitedly but also a bit sheepish. It makes you laugh and nod, smiling at him.
“Of course I will, go on.”
—
Late at night now, all sat around a little fire, John is prattling on about lions or something. Masai’s and lions back home, reassuring James that he isn’t going to see a lion here, but your focus is on Rob. He’s sat next to you, leant in close, having low conversation. Beforehand, anytime you made eye contact with him during the day made heat coil in your stomach, a shudder run up your spine. There’s a heat between the two of you, something more, you can tell that much, or you at least hope you aren’t imagining it.
He smiles softly, keeping eye contact as he speaks, something about a trip to Africa he took a few years ago. He’s so close, crowding your space almost, grinning in the low firelight, when James interrupts to get Rob’s attention.
“Have you ever seen a real lion? Like out in the wild?”
Rob gives him a glare, staring down James’ face overtop the camera, “Yes.”
“Have you ever seen a lion kill someone?”
He fights back the urge to roll his eyes, “Yes.”
“Really? Like actually-” Michelle’s giving him a look to knock it off but it isn’t working, “Professor were you there?” He turns the camera, and John gives him the obvious yes as an answer.
The entire interaction pulls a small laugh out of you, leaning into Rob’s space just as much as he is in yours, “Y’gotta admit he makes this trip entertaining.”
A huffed sigh from Rob, turning his gaze back to you as James talks to Tim, “That’s one word for it.”
His dry words make you nudge him with your arm, scolding softly, “Be nice.. I remember how excited I was on my first real expedition.”
“Well- you’re a lot cuter than him so I’d actually tolerate that.” The flirtation comes out before he processes it, and it makes your cheeks heat up as you laugh, before James is interrupting again to ask you some questions. You happily answer them, about how you started photography, and he was also curious about the camera you have. Maria, Lisa and Tim all filter off to bed as you talk, then Michelle, then John ushers the rest of you off to bed. When it’s just him and Rob by the fire, he speaks.
“What you did earlier was risky.”
“Is my flirting really that bad? Could you hear?”
“No, at the cliff.”
“I’m aware.” Rob sighs, glancing in the direction of your tent before gazing back at the small fire. It’s clear he’s gonna get scolded right now. “I was being careful.”
“I’m just saying. You wouldn’t have done that for anyone else.” John shrugs. He fully understands Rob was careful but.. it was dangerous.
“I guess that’s probably true.” Rob mutters back, eyes low. At this point, he’s thinking about it for the millionth time. The way his heart was pounding, his arms tight around you, holding your weight like nothing, the arousal it sends up his spine everytime.
“Hey,” John sighs, staring at Rob, “I have no problem if you like her. But don’t let it affect your judgment here. I didn’t say anything because I was there, knew you could handle it, but don’t try a stunt like that again.” His words ring true, he knows that, but Rob is reluctant to acknowledge it.
“I know..” He sighs, “I get it wasn’t the smartest but.. she really wanted those pictures..”
“Wrapped around her finger.” John muses, grinning at his friend.
It makes him flush, he doesn’t like being called out. Heat blooms on his cheeks, and he hopes John can’t see the color since it’s so dark, “I-.. yeah.”
“So now you admit it?” The latter chuckles.
“Oh shut up.” His lips twist into a big smile, glancing at the professor. “Yeah. She has me wrapped around her finger. Happy now?”
“Very. Just keep it in your pants until we get home.”
That makes him groan, rubbing a hand over his face in embarrassment, “Shut up.”
John snorts out a laugh, poking the fire with his stick but no longer teases Rob, saying that it’s probably a good idea for them to go to bed now.
———————♡
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Here Comes The Sun
Billy Hargrove x AFAB! Reader
I didn't intend for the Billy one-shots I've posted so far to link up, I just really enjoyed the juxtaposition of the 'Sunshine' reader to his (let's be honest with ourselves) less than stellar personality. But evidently I'm hashing them into a series with a random timeline. Presenting the night you and Billy met.
Warnings: Mentions of domestic violence, mentions of abusive parent, explicit language, sex references, under-age drinking (under 21), smoking.
_______________________________________________
Billy is wasted.
It had been his sole purpose for the evening, spurred into self-destruct mode by yet another fight with his father, face stinging with the reminder of respect and responsibility.
He knew there was a party going on, gunning his Camaro through the winding, backwater, shithole roads of Hawkins, pulling up with a skidding flair to a boarded up building called ‘Benny’s Burgers’. The steady thumping bass emanating from inside was literal music to his ears, no plan except get drunk, maybe get his dick wet and forget about his shit life for a few hours.
Beer, vodka, tequila, it was all the same, burning his throat and stomach with numbing relief. Sweat poured off of him, chain smoking until he felt light-headed, some girl was sucking on his neck but she was faceless, nameless, he didn’t care, didn’t want to know.
He did a keg-stand, the cheers and shouts around him meant nothing, he didn’t need the praise of slack-jawed hicks. He staggered and lurched outside, away from the crowds, dizzy from the kegger. Get some air Billy, you fucking pussy he snarled at himself, punching his chest.
He drops heavily to sit on the damp grass, trying to light another cigarette but the lighter keeps drifting away from where he needs it to be.
“Piece of shit.” He mumbles, throwing the zippo away, letting himself fall backwards to lay flat, chest heaving.
_______________________________________________
He doesn’t remember passing out, dazedly brought round by something, no, someone tapping his face lightly.
“Hey - you ok?” The voice is soft, gentle.
Billy opens his eyes, vision bleary and hazed around the edges, your face floats in front of him, you seem concerned.
“‘Mfine.” He slurs, blinking rapidly trying to bring everything into focus.
“You sure about that?” You ask disbelievingly, cocking an eyebrow at his current state. He somehow pushes himself up into a sitting position, you’re kneeling down next to him not seeming to mind the wet grass on your bare legs.
“Heeyy - you’re cute, name’s Billy.” Billy smiles, trying to turn on the charm, thinking about the part of the evening where he could get his dick wet.
“Y/n, and you are very drunk.” You laugh, the sound echoing off the trees.
“I’m not as d-drunk as the other people.” He gestures haphazardly to the building, which now he really looked, seemed oddly quiet and empty.
“Uh - pretty much everyone has gone home, it’s like 4am, you must have been passed out for a while.” You place a delicate hand on his knee, patting it sympathetically, a small smile playing about your lips.
“Fu-ck.” Billy hiccups, he hauls himself up on bandy legs stumbling immediately, you step forward on instinct wrapping an arm about his waist to steady him, his muscular frame heavy. “S’ why’re you still here?” He asks, not remembering seeing you at the party, because he definitely would have remembered you.
“My friend called me to pick her up.” You sigh, pointing towards your car, he can see a blonde girl slumped in the rear passenger seat. “Can I give you a ride home?” You offer gently.
Billy shakes his head, the momentum throwing him into a dizzy lurch again, you press your other hand to his chest bracing him securely.
“No - I can’t go home.” He mumbles
“Well I’m certainly not letting you drive anywhere.” You insist, steering him towards your vehicle.
“My dad’ll kill me.” He sighs with a mirthless laugh, ignoring the sudden burn in his eyes and the hiss of ‘fucking cry-baby’ in his head.
You chuckle, helping him to perch on the bonnet of your car, hands hovering in case he slips.
“You’re just a little drunk I'm sure your dad wo-”
“No - no you don’t understand - he’ll k-kill me.” Billy says seriously, but the words still sound a little mashed together, he notices your concerned frown again and it makes his heart feel tight.
“Ok not home, but I’m not leaving you out here by yourself either.” You say firmly, hands on your hips, foot tapping against the gravel of the parking lot. “You gonna murder me in my sleep if I take you home with me?” You ask, eyes narrowed, finger pointing at his chest accusingly but there’s the hint of a smile playing about your pretty lips.
“Murder y-? Y/n, I don’t think I could find my dick to take a piss right now.” Billy says honestly, and you let out a bell-like laugh.
“I’m holding you to that Billy.” You warned teasingly. “Get in, I need to drop Sleeping Beauty home first.” You say nodding towards your friend who is snoring heavily, face smushed up against the rear window.
_______________________________________________
Billy drifts in and out of a doze as you drive, the window rolled down just in case, cold night air feeling nice on his hot face, you were singing along under your breath to some tape but he wasn’t really registering the words, maybe something about an octopus or some shit.
“Billy, I’m gonna take Cassidy inside ok?” You say gently, tapping him on the shoulder, jerking him back to the present, he nods sleepily, sinking further into the seat. Despite his drunken state, he still watches you carefully as you half carry your wasted friend up the steps and into her house, he probably should have gone to help but he definitely would be more of a hindrance in his condition.
He jolts at the sound of the car door opening, and the engine starting, having drifted off again.
“She ‘k?” He asks, rubbing at his eyes.
“Who? Cass? Yeah she’ll be fine, apart from the hangover.” You laugh. “We’ll be home in like ten minutes, I live just a little off of Brantford, you?”
“Cherry.”
You both lapse into a comfortable silence, Billy is close to nodding off again when the volume of music increases slightly, rousing him once more.
“Sorry,” You say, smiling sheepishly, withdrawing your hand from the dial “it’s my favourite.”
‘-Little darlin’, it’s been a long, cold lonely winter
Little darlin’, it feels like years since it’s been here -’
Something stirs in Billy’s sluggish memory as you carry on singing softly, it’s The Beatles, the tape you’re listening to, he knows that now but there’s something else.
“Mom -.” He breathes, the word escaping his mouth before he can stop it, you glance at him curiously as he sits up straighter cranking the volume up again to listen properly.
‘-Little darlin’, it seems like years since it’s been here
Here comes the sun
Here come the sun-’
“- and I say, it’s alright…” You both finish off the lyric together, Billy blinking hard, willing the tears away.
“Wouldn’t have you pegged as a Beatles fan.” You say gently.
“This was my mom’s favourite song - I’d forgotten.” Billy says roughly, sniffing hard, memories of distant sunlit days, the sound of her shimmering laughter and the cresting of the ocean against the sandy shore crashing down over him like he was caught in a swell.
“Where is she? Your Mom?” You ask cautiously.
“Away from all the shit.” Billy says simply, effectively ending the conversation.
“You want me to turn it off?” You reach for the dial, but Billy catches your hand.
“Leave it on - please.” The please is whispered, the word moving unfamiliarly in his mouth, you give a small nod, neither of you dropping the hand of the other.
You pull in front of a modest house, not unlike his own as the song comes to a close, shutting off the engine, sending him a slightly nervous smile.
“Still good on the not murdering me front?” You ask, and he laughs, feeling a little bereft when you drop his hand to get out of the car.
“Scouts honour.” He hums, following you up the path on slightly steadier feet.
“I highly doubt that you were ever in the scouts.” You laugh.
“Looks can be deceiving sunshine.”
He notices the way you flush slightly and how your fingers fumble with your key in the lock, in response to the nickname, and decides he likes it a lot.
“My parents are pretty heavy sleepers, we just need to be careful on the stairs, they creak a bit” You whisper, toeing off your sneakers, taking Billy’s hand once more and leading him up the stairs, both of you stifling giggles when the tenth step groans and the snores of presumably your father kick up a notch.
You point Billy in the direction of the bathroom, and then wordlessly step into your room leaving the door open for him.
Clearly your parents have an en-suite as this obviously serves as your bathroom, soft, sweet peach like perfume hanging in the air, makeup littering the counter, he chuckles at the Aquanet perched on the sink. Billy takes a much needed piss, sighing in relief, he notes he must like you because he’s bothered to wipe the seat across knowing his aim is still dogshit from the alcohol. Washing his hands at the sink, the unforgiving bathroom light and mirror lays it all bare, bloodshot eyes, the curls of his forehead damp with sweat, the shiner on his cheek courtesy of Neil blooming purple. He splashes cool water over his face and neck in an attempt to wash some of the clamminess away, jumping slightly at the soft knock on the door. You’re on the other side when he opens it, in an oversized Mickey Mouse nightie that rests just above your knees, you look fucking adorable and he feels his heart tighten again.
“Hi, I just wanna brush my teeth.” You say softly.
“Uh - sure, yeah - go ahead.” He murmurs, skin feeling electrified when your arms brush as you move past.
“I won’t be long, make yourself comfortable.” You whisper.
Your room is softly lit by a small pink shaded lamp, the walls a lilac with green ivy leaves around the border, they almost look hand painted and Billy wonders if you did it yourself. He takes in the general clutter with a smile, a battered but very loved looking Snoopy stuffie sat on a wicker basket chair, polaroid photos of you and your friends over the years stuck to the wall above your bed in the shape of a heart.
“You could have got in the bed you know, can’t sleep standing up, well, unless you’re a Zebra.” Your voice cuts through the silence, carefully closing the door, smiling softly at Billy.
“I didn’t know which side you preferred.” He says awkwardly, internally wondering when he became a fourteen year old boy again.
You breeze past unbothered, settling on the left side, pulling the comforter down for him on the right. This is weird right? Sharing a bed with a literal stranger, not that he’s never done that before, but this feels different, intimate.
“I can take the floor you know, you don’t have to -”
“Billy, would you just get in please, so we can go to sleep.” You press, turning the light off with one last expectant glance in his direction. Billy takes his jeans off as they’re still damp from the wet grass, before sliding under the covers, body taut and on alert keeping himself to the furthest edge of the bed.
“Do I smell?” You ask quietly but he can tell you’re teasing, he feels you shift onto your side so you’re facing him. “Billy, I know we only met like an hour ago, but if you ever need a place to stay - away from the shit - you only need to ask.” Voice completely sincere.
He rolls over to face you in the dark, hand searching for yours in unspoken thanks, he expects you to pull away but you only return his grip, thumb tracing along his own.
“Goodnight Billy.” You whisper.
“Goodnight sunshine.”
#stranger things#billy hargrove x y/n#billy hargrove x reader#billy hargrove#billy hargrove x you#billy hargrove imagine#billy hargrove x afab reader#billy hargrove x female reader
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hi hi hi!
Wanted to pop in rq to talk about recent game stuff again :)
I played Cyno's story quest! After noz liking his first one, I gotta say that with this second one they really stepped up the game and I'm glad about that. I feel like Sumeru kinda got thrown under the bus after giving us some of the most important in game lore when it comes to Khaenri'ah and Irminsul. I've seen lots of people talking about how they didn't like Sumeru as much, criticising the Archon Quest etc.... which I never understood. The desert expsnsions were vast and did get on my nerves a bit but since I love the exploration process it wasn't a huge problem for me. The AQ of Sumeru is my second favorite because you can really see the change in comparison to the other nations... even the story quests of characters were largely really good - Nahida, Tighnari, Alhaitham, Wanderer getting a whole Interlude Quest...
Just Cyno's fell kind of flat following the "old" pattern of the quest somehow completely shifting focus to some NPC and barely having significance to Cyno. THE SECOND QUEST HOWEVER. So good. It really falls in with other recent story quests (that I have all enjoyed): involvement of other playable characters that we as pöayers care about, interaction between beloved characters, spinning in some big lore that ties to the characters and thid time IT ACTUALLY IS ABOUT CYNO. HIS BACKSTORY. HIS ORIGIN. YESSSSS.
I think people should experience the quest for themselves so I don't want to talk abput the plot too much but just... so many Sumeru characters made an appearance and it was so nice to see them again :(( i miss them. It was about time we visited Sumeru again, there has been a suspicious lack of Sumeru content throughout the Fontaine patches, whereas other nations got bigger events etc...
SETHOS MY BELOVED. I can NOT wait for his release. And the fact he's gonna be on Clorinde's banner <333 my collection of electro characters continues. Really like his character design (especially his hair omg???) and generally think it's so interesting of hyv to introduce this story... him and Cyno being two parts of one whole thing but growing up so differently... yet somehow understanding each other when they meet face to face... HIS EYES ARE SO CRAZY TOO LIKE??? HUUUUH???
The cutscene of their fight be my favorite now (not counting Archon or Harbinger fights). IT WAS SO LONG??? EPIC?? The way they were so similar with using the power?? The parallels? Insane.
So yeah... I really enjoyed it. Hopefully Sethos gets a Hangout event soon. I'll definitely build him when he comes out. However I wasn't able to watch the 4.7 livestream (yet) because of my horrendous work times yesterday... gonna do it this evening after work I think. Definitely excited to finally get Clorinde tho <33 depending on how nice she is to me I might try snd get her weapon too ... but I at least have enough pulls atm to get her no matter what (and hopefully some Sethos too...)
So far so good! I actually took some screenshots during the story check it out!
#may plays#mays gaming#genshin impact#genshin#genshin 4.6#4.6#cyno#genshin impact cyno#sumeru#sethos#genshin impact sethos#genshin cyno#genshin sethos#4.7#genshin 4.7#clorinde#genshin clorinde#may's gaming
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