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bloompompom · 9 months

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rebounding; one-shot

“Don’t you want to give it a try? I mean, haven’t you ever thought about it?”

✧ content: ~10.5k words. eren jaeger x female reader. modern/roommate au. reader is dumped by unnamed boyfriend for "plot" purposes (what plot?), lighthearted with slight hurt/comfort + angst, complicated feelings, pure filth, eren’s bad with emotions but so are you, rough sex, praise, dirty talk, 'pretty girl' as a pet name, mentions of masturbation, light overstimulation, oral sex (f!receiving), protected PIV sex, explicit sexual content, explicit language, reader discretion advised. 18+ only

It was little more than a passing thought when Eren realized he hadn’t seen you since he’d been home. It wasn’t entirely out of the ordinary, considering your boyfriend’s shoes strewn near the front door—Eren tripped over one earlier—but he thought you would have come out for a snack or a trip to the bathroom or something by now.

Perhaps it was best to give you two some privacy.

On his way out, he opted to text you instead of knocking on your door to check if you needed anything. He took his time gathering his wallet and keys, but even after a few minutes, you still hadn’t opened the message. He got the hint, loud and clear.

The five-minute drive to the corner store didn’t eat up much time, and Eren spent the first half of the hour trying to figure out how to kill the next. He stalled for as long as he could, running down his mental checklist for household essentials and uselessly debating between soda brands. But after a while, he started to feel like a weirdo for stalking every aisle twice over.

Eren didn’t like to be at the apartment when he was there, your boyfriend. It wasn’t anything personal—

Okay, maybe he could admit it was a little personal. Eren had told you before that he was a major douchebag, but hey, at least he was honest.

Anyway, it wasn’t like anyone wanted to be around when their roommate was getting laid, but Eren had nowhere else to go and a gas tank bordering on empty. He couldn’t even take the long way back home.

Somewhere in his gut, Eren hoped you’d be there to greet him when he returned. Not for any special reason; he was just bored. What was the point of having a roommate if they were always locked away in their bedroom?

Of course, you’d only been ‘locked away’ for a handful of hours, but that was like an eternity to Eren—always one for dramatics. For him, it was an ordinary Tuesday night, with nothing to see or do except wait until he was tired enough to sleep. He couldn’t even enjoy his show because you scolded him for putting on an episode while you were out. ‘I can’t believe you watched our show without me!’ He wasn’t sure when the ‘our show’ thing started because it didn’t even seem like you paid it any attention.

Unfortunately for him, when Eren stepped through the front door, you weren’t curled in your usual nook on the couch. Your boyfriend’s shoes were still annoyingly kicked to the side, and not a single thing had changed since he left. The apartment wasn’t that spacious, and it didn’t take long to learn the walls were about as thin as cardboard, which made the silence eerie as Eren slipped from his shoes. Even the metallic clang of his keys on the table felt out of place, like he was walking on eggshells in his own home. Something was off.

Before he could put his finger on it—before he could even crack open his bottle of soda—he discerned the first sign of life from your room. Shouting, but Eren couldn’t pick out if it belonged to you or him.

Your bedroom door swung open. Eren didn’t see it but heard the swoosh of it, the rickety wood shrieking in its hinges. Your boyfriend stormed down the hallway, shoulders tensed and hands drawn into fists at his side. What did Eren say about him being a douchebag again?

Then, he shot Eren this glare. This downright nasty glare for no good reason, flagrantly huffing and puffing his way to snatch his jacket. He was rough with it, leaving the chair wobbling but still upright.

Prickly, and merely seconds away from acting on it, Eren’s disgust curled at his lip to return the sneer. But the asshole was out the door—even made sure to slam it behind him—before Eren could ask what the hell his problem was.

The apartment went quiet again. The door stopped quavering and the room was still. Though your boyfriend was gone, the strangely thick, suffocating air lingered. Eren didn’t know what to make of it. He couldn’t move, firmly planted in the center of the living room like his feet had taken root. He didn’t want to know what just happened, lest he wished to get wrapped up in your relationship drama, but he had this dreaded feeling he was about to learn regardless. Especially once the sniffling began, faint, but spilling from your room and into the hall.

The door to your bedroom was still open. Eren grazed his knuckles against it, carefully trying to catch your attention. You saw only his head at first, tentatively poked around the corner. After he decided the coast was clear, he made himself known, loosely leaning against the doorframe like he always did when he had something to tell you.

Your instinct was to hide your face—to quickly swat away the tears with the sleeve of your sweatshirt. It was your best attempt at collecting yourself, but it was worthless because Eren had already seen the puffy-eyed look on your face.

You straightened out, uncrumpling your legs and letting them hang from the edge of the bed. You started to fumble over snot-coated words. “God, sorry. I probably look like a mess.”

Eren couldn’t begin to guess why you were apologizing, and immediately, he felt a pang of sympathy. Despite how it struck him iron-hot in his chest, he didn’t know what to do with it. His body stiffened.

Thinking (hoping) you’d laugh, or at the very least chuckle, he didn’t disagree with you. Instead, he pitched you a boyish yet well-meant, “What’s new?”

You pulled a face but otherwise ignored the comment, reaching toward the box of tissues on your nightstand. Eren was surprised there were any left, considering you were surrounded by what appeared to be a hundred of them. Balled up and scattered across your bed, the floor, and even one on your lap. He didn’t want to, but he took a cautious step into your room. He even took another, squeamishly watching you loudly blow your nose.

He should say something, shouldn’t he?

“So,” Eren started, rocking back on his heels once. “What happened?”

You glanced over at him, still looking pretty awful. You had smeared the streaks of mascara across the crests of your cheeks, even to your temples, tinging them like soot. Eren’s stomach seized up as he fought off his primal urge to back away slowly and retreat to his bedroom.

You sucked in a breath and answered, “We broke up.” Between the words, your bottom lip started to quiver. “He broke up with me.”

Say what you wanted about Eren—label him a cynic or accuse him of being heartless, perhaps both—but he didn’t particularly enjoy dealing with others’ emotions. To put it bluntly, they repulsed him, most especially the waterworks that accompanied them.

Eren averted his eyes like you were some tragic spectacle. He hated seeing you like this. It was such a bummer, no different than spotting a kitten forgotten in a rainstorm. He wished he could console you, find an umbrella and run to your rescue, but that was much more complicated than it sounded.

If he had known about the breakup earlier (if you had responded to his text message), he would have brought you something back from the store. Ice cream or red wine—the sort of stuff he’d seen in movies—he didn’t know. Ugh.

He remembered his bottle of soda, still sealed with its condensation cooling his hand. He extended it to you, offering, “Here. You can take this if you want.”

Face buried in your palms, you pried your gaze higher and, unexpectedly, grimaced.

“What? No, I don’t want that right now,” you grumbled. Eren could be such an idiot sometimes.

Your voice was sour enough to sting, like he had purposefully salted your brand-new wound. His face said enough—a resounding yikes—but he didn’t stop there; he continued digging his own grave.

Eren nodded his head in the general direction of the front door. “You know, he probably hasn’t gotten too far. I could go kick his—”

“I think I just want to be left alone.”

“Well, what if we—”

“Seriously, Eren,” you snapped. “Go away.”

Tears collected in the corners of your eyes again, welling up like dew. Then your bottom lip did that trembling thing again. It must have embarrassed you; that was why you rushed to slam the door in Eren’s face. At least, that was what he told himself, rather than admit you didn’t want his help, that he was only making things worse. That maybe he was the last person you wanted to see right then.

Honestly, that might have been the case. Not just in that fleeting moment but for the days to come.

It had been over a week since that night, a very strange eleven days in the little apartment you both called home. It wasn’t like you to keep to yourself. Even when Eren first moved in, when he was little more than a stranger to you, you liked his company. You told him as such. ‘I just like to have someone to talk to. That’s all.’ And you’d do just that, chatting to pass the time it’d take to wash the dishes or whatever menial task you were up to. Eren never minded, but it did make it harder to adjust to the quiet. He could even admit he missed your unnecessary commentary while he watched TV.

He supposed it was naive of him to think you’d bounce back from a breakup after only a week. But were you really that hung up on this guy?

No, Eren was sure you were giving him the cold shoulder for badgering you less than a minute after your boyfriend had stormed out. Not that it wasn’t deserved, but for the record, you never apologized for slamming the door in his face.

Neither of you wanted to lose this childish stand-off, nor were you above butting heads, no better than a couple of rams, if given the right provocation.

To outsiders, the two of you may seem like an unlikely pair. But the reality of it was you shared this apartment for well over a year now. Eren wasn’t your original roommate, that was your friend Mikasa. After a few months of living together, she was offered an internship a few hours south of here, out of commuting range, and took it on a whim. That internship turned into her dream job, and her friend Eren’s sublease turned into one of his own, for no other reason than it just worked; it was as simple as that.

So one could imagine why Eren had trouble wrapping his head around it. By now, it was customary, borderline a requirement of living together, for you to annoy one another. You’d poke and poke and poke, as roommates tend to, and no matter what, the other would come around. Eren always did. You always did.

But this time, even Eren’s bribes didn’t work. Not even a latte from your favorite cafe—conveniently located on his walk home from the gym—softened you. That was when he knew it was bad, worse than when you discovered he’d been snitching from your expensive hair products in the shower. It was awkward and tense and, frankly, unbearable.

It was Saturday night, probably creeping into Sunday morning. Eren’s eyes burned, a bit bloodshot when he last checked. He took it as his sign to shut off the computer.

You still weren’t home. Eren didn’t know where you were; he told himself he didn’t care, but his rampant curiosity said otherwise. Throughout the night, he’d excuse himself from his video game, telling his friends he’d be back in a second, and on his way to ransack the kitchen for the umpteenth time, he’d check to see if your purse had returned to its rightful spot: draped over the back of the loveseat. For whatever reason, your absence irked him.

You knew there was a chance Eren would still be awake when you came home; you just didn’t expect to bump into him.

You stood in your entryway, your coat only halfway down your arms and sagged around your elbows, when Eren emerged from the hallway. He had a hand shielded over his squinted eyes as they adjusted to the brash overhead light.

His white tee held the wrinkles of his bedsheets. It was an old shirt, by the look of it, its collar drooped in the front and a hemline that appeared slightly thread-barren against his charcoal sweatpants. He must have fallen asleep with his hair tied back; stray strands framed his cheekbones and curtained his lidded eyes. He blinked them a few times, hard, then let his hand slump to his side. He studied you with a judgy once-over.

“Did you just get home?” He sounded as groggy as he looked.

“Yeah.” It was a rather redundant question, given your current state of toying with your strappy heels, bounding around on one foot as you tried to slip free of them.

Eren retrieved his phone from his pocket. “It’s almost three in the morning.” He showed you the screen as if you requested proof.

“So?”

“What were you doing out that late?”

You couldn’t decipher his tone, and for the life of you, you couldn’t read the expression on his face. For once, it was blank. Tired, but blank.

“It’s none of your business,” you snarked.

“It is when you wake me up.”

You had difficulty believing you had woken him up in the thirty seconds you’d been home. Regardless, you brushed him off with, “I was out with a friend.”

You were purposefully vague because it truly was none of his business. But you let your attitude seethe to the forefront, with it, an implication you didn’t intend.

Eren gave you this look, stern and accusatory, but more than anything, he looked absolutely baffled with you.

“You didn’t.”

He thought you went crawling back to your ex.

You didn’t correct him in time to prevent his ranting and raving.

“You can’t be serious. After what he did?” He was referring to the nasty breakup. “After everything?” And that was referring to the rest. You were aware Eren had become an unlucky bystander to your relationship, frequently caught in the fallout of every nuclear fight.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, wiping the sleep from the inner corners of his eyes as if it would clear his head. “You could be with anyone you want. Why go back to him?”

You were insulted he’d think so lowly of you, that you needed a fatherly lecture from him of all people. You were fixed on that, not reading between the lines when you barked, “So what if I did? Why do you even care so much?”

Eren didn’t care. What possibly gave you the impression he cared? You were a big girl, you could date whoever you pleased. You were certainly doing whatever you pleased; the only reason he was even talking to you—the only reason he was awake—was because of you, loudly stumbling through the front door in the middle of the night, unwilling to consider his perspective on the situation.

A situation you created, by the way. Not just tonight but eleven days ago. It didn’t need to exist in the first place. The drama, the theatrics—all of it. You must have forgotten Eren wasn’t the one who dumped you.

So in his mind, the better question was, “Why are you being like this?”

You defensively knotted your arms over your chest. “Like what?”

Eren opened his mouth, raring to sling some smart-ass comment your way, but he only stammered. He blamed it on the fact that he was torn out of his slumber and immediately thrown into the ring with you, but truthfully, he could have eight hours of sleep and a shot of espresso and still suck at this sort of thing. You know, emotions.

Words failed him miserably. He gave up on them and waved a hand over you like you were supposed to know what he meant by it. “Weird and stuff.”

“Weird and stuff,” you mocked with a pointed scoff. “You’re going to have to be a little more specific than that.”

“You’re never here anymore,” he said in exasperation, “and when you are, you’re ignoring—no, you’re actively avoiding me.”

You wanted to do exactly that, to roll your eyes and stomp to your bedroom. Eren knew that. He was daring you to prove him right.

In a way, ending a spat was much like defusing a bomb, wasn’t it? Both backed you into a corner, forcing you to make a decision on instinct alone. You’d clip a wire, red or blue, the choice was yours, and cross your fingers that it was over. You could deny, deny, deny, put it off for another day, just to see if it explodes. Or you could end it.

You exhaled reluctantly. “I went out for drinks with Sasha. We went back to her place, got to talking, and I lost track of the time.” He matched your sigh, and you watched the sink in his shoulders. “The breakup was long overdue. I don’t think one night out would change anything between us.”

You told Eren the truth not because it was any of his business but because guilt pitted your stomach. Yes, he was upset you woke him, you understood that. And undoubtedly, it was a part of the reason—at least why he was testier than normal, which was saying something—but hearing him now, you realized it ran much deeper than that.

The tension in the room eased its grip on your throats. You sensed he was about to offer you some cliché, but if it would be anything like his last attempt at cheering you up, you weren’t interested.

You beat him to it, confessing, “He dumped me because of you.”

The sentence fell to the floor with a blundering splat. You plopped this thing between you and expected him to know what to do with it.

Eren’s eyes narrowed and flickered over you, head to toe. He took in your words, scrutinized and dissected them. Before he could draw his own hasty conclusions, you elaborated, “That’s the reason he broke up with me—why I’ve been avoiding you.”

He snorted derisively. “That’s a load of bullshit.”

“That’s what I said. But he told me I either had to move out—find a place of my own or live with him—or it was over.”

The mood shifted. Eren stared back at you apprehensively, waiting for you to go on as if you hadn’t made up your mind already—as if you were about to break your lease on the spot. He couldn’t fathom the obvious answer.

“And?”

You exaggerated it when you extended your arms out at your sides. “I’m still here, aren’t I?”

You looked and looked at him, but for once, he didn’t say a thing. You disarmed him; he tucked his hands into his pockets in his own Eren-y way of surrendering.

“It sounds stupid, but I like what we have. I like this,” you said genuinely, even if you weren’t quite sure what ‘this’ was—your living situation, your roommate-ship, your friendship with Eren. Whatever it was, it was comfortable, and maybe it was just some lame proverb, but you couldn’t help but think: if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

You shrugged. “And I’m definitely not about to ditch it for some jealous douchebag.”

He finally cracked. His lips bowed into a small smile. “At least you can finally admit it.”

Deep down—like way down in there—you recognized none of what happened was Eren’s fault, but that didn’t lessen the blow. It became easier to pretend as if he wasn’t there, just for a while. It was irrational, it was your gut reaction, and by the time you realized how petulant it was, you were too ashamed to fess up to it. All it took was a bit of cornering, you supposed.

You and Eren were too close, apparently. That was what your ex-boyfriend believed for however long he chose to keep it to himself. He stewed on it, a simmer at first, until it bubbled to a seething boil, splattering you when you removed the lid and asked, ‘Why have you been so distant lately?’

Once the argument ensued, it was like you no longer spoke the same language. Anything you said, any explanation you gave, wasn’t good enough. To him, you were irredeemable. He had already set his mind on that ultimatum—a rather expensive one at that.

You weren’t oblivious to the fact that some may find it strange you were in a relationship with one man while living with another, but was it that bizarre a concept? It was how the cards fell, so you made the best of it, which wasn’t too difficult, actually.

It became clear just how long it’d been bothering him when he began to list everything you’d done wrong over the months, even going as far as to count your crimes on his fingers. Looking back, you should have stopped him there; no one needed to be with that kind of person, anyway.

Firstly, and what appeared to be your greatest sin, was that he hated when you borrowed Eren’s hoodies; it really didn’t happen often. Eren left them thrown about the apartment, so you’d only wear them to empty the trash when it was raining or when you went grab a coffee down the street on a chilly day. According to him, he was always finding them in your room.

You could appreciate his perspective on that one, but he should have mentioned it sooner. His second reason—and this was where they started to become silly—was that he ‘always’ (he used that word a lot) heard Eren in the background when he’d call. You told him it was farfetched to think Eren’s naturally loud demeanor was somehow your fault.

Then he became more upset, ridiculing you for, in his words, being all ‘Eren this, Eren that’ about everything—another exaggeration. In your defense, if you turned to Eren, it was only a matter of convenience because he was literally across the hall. You never explained this; he didn’t give you the chance, so you tuned out his other reasons, more focused on trying to make sense of this tailspin.

It hit you then, not like a smack across the face; it was stealthier than that. It prowled from behind in a low rumble, creeping down your spine before pouncing, taking you captive in one go.

“Eren?”

The mildness in your voice surprised you. You spoke his name in a quiet request, the same way you would if you needed something from him (you did). He was immediately suspicious. Still, he met your eye, acknowledging you with knitted brows.

Whenever you needed something, you turned to Eren.

You had to choose your words carefully, but there was no careful way to go about this.

You bit down on your bottom lip, unwittingly wetting it. “Would you kiss me?”

What you needed now was to forget. To lose yourself in his body, just for one night.

The softness in his voice contended with your own. “Why?”

He didn’t say no. His face certainly didn’t say no, either. And he didn’t draw back when you neared him.

Sasha spent the evening encouraging you to find a hookup, telling you the only way to get over someone was to get under another. But meeting someone new was hard.

“I don’t know,” you slowly said. “Just want to.”

Eren flinched, only slightly, when you laid the tips of your fingers on the back of his wrist. You grazed them higher up his arm, noting how the hairs stood up as you went.

“Don’t you,” you started, in an almost temptatious way, “don’t you want to give it a try? I mean, haven’t you ever thought about it?”

He sucked in a breath and his lip went with it, pinched between his teeth. He shut his eyes because he was pretty sure he was about to kiss you. It didn’t help that the sight of you was incredibly distracting, either. He still had to decide what to do, and all the while, his thoughts juggled around in his head; he couldn’t hold onto one without losing another.

It was a terrible idea. Downright awful. Even so, it didn’t feel so bad when he felt your hand on his chest, even if it made his heartbeat hammer.

Eren opened his eyes to your face, nothing else. He took you in, from the top of your head to the very tip of your chin. Your hair was a bit out of place, expected for three in the morning, but your eyes were as bright as if it were the middle of the afternoon. Something about them was alluring, though he couldn’t pin it. They grew, bigger and bigger, until they were out of focus. Closing in, your noses brushed, and Eren’s ‘yes’ died on his lips as he placed them to yours—an answer to one or both of your questions, he wasn’t sure.

He couldn’t stop himself from kissing you, losing his words between your lips as he asked, “Should we be doing this?”

You inched back, still extremely close, enough that your breath warmed him. “Why not?”

Eren knew you didn’t need him to break it down for you. You were Mikasa’s friend, his roommate. Someone he wanted to keep the peace with, even if you were making it difficult.

“Won’t it make things weird?”

“I thought I already made things weird. And stuff,” you teased. He shot you the unamused look you anticipated. “Whatever. You already pop a boner when you see me after the shower. Do you really think this is what will make things weird?”

Heat scorched the tips of Eren’s ears. It had only happened twice! And there was no way you knew about that. Unless you were looking for it, he supposed, but thinking about that made him more nervous.

It was that damn robe of yours. The one you only wore from time to time, the telltale sign laundry day was near. Eren had only seen it a few times, incidentally of course, just if you’d pass one another. Still, he could picture it then. It hardly counted as a robe, so frail that he was surprised anyone would spend money on it. It bordered on see-through, clinging to your body as you’d leave the steamy bathroom, into the cool hallway—

You lightly smacked his arm. “I’m just messing with you.”

He deflated in relief, but the feeling didn’t last long because you were still between his hands, sitting dangerously low on your waist. In that moment, his sense drizzled from him much like a leaky faucet: drop by drop at first, then a burst pipe. Now, he wasn’t sure there was even an ounce left.

You batted your lashes at him. “C’mon, you’re really going to make me get off myself?”

Okay. Now he was absolutely certain any and all sense had drained from him.

Eren swallowed hard. “Will this help you get over him? Because I’d really like to never see him again.”

Yeah, that worked. That was how he’d justify it: he was merely helping you out. Nothing more. Then things would be fixed, and everything would go back to normal. Better, even, because now he wouldn’t have to deal with your ex-boyfriend anymore.

“Mhm,” you murmured, but desire had been lowly buzzing between your legs for the better half of the evening, leaving you fuzzy enough to agree to anything he said. Anything to keep the fire in you alive and burning. But right then, you weren’t sure if there was anything—no body of water great enough—that could douse it. You didn’t mind; you found pleasure in it because at least you weren’t burning alone.

You went to kiss him again, but Eren dodged it with a small tick of his head.

“You just told me you liked this,” he said. “But now you’re willing to risk it? What if this is a mistake?”

He was still struggling to understand you. He always struggled to understand you, even after living with you for over a year, but this was next level. You had him dumbstruck.

Let there be no misunderstanding: Eren wanted this. He was just another twenty-something-year-old guy, of course he wanted this. It was just that he was also very aware of the consequences.

You touched his mouth with the tips of your fingers. His lips were wet with your spit—a combination of yours and his. You pressed down, ever so lightly, to shush him. You didn’t want words; you wanted incoherency. Purposeless and meaningless sounds and syllables, groans pulled from the back of your throats.

“If it’s a mistake, then let’s make it together.”

You invited him with a peck at first, a taste, then he pulled you back in to devour you whole.

Eren kissed the same way he lived: passionately, intensely, maddeningly. He was better at it than your ex, which you didn’t expect. The thought of what else he could do better made your stomach flip.

His palm warmed your cheek as slender fingers wrapped around the back of your head. Like an anchor, it kept your lightheaded self tethered to him. He smelled of sleep, and he smelled like him. The heady scent coiled around you. You inhaled as you kissed him, and when his mouth dipped to the delicate skin behind your ear, you buried your nose in his hair. You imagined your face shoved in his sheets, how they’d smell the same. You’d inhale it then, too, through gasps and an agape mouth.

You smoothed your hands higher on his chest, over his shoulders. Your nails gently scratched at Eren’s back, and even through his T-shirt, it set his nerves ablaze.

The part of his brain demanding he pump the breaks finally shut down, his entire body thrilled by it. It was all physical, fueled by carnal desire. He acted solely on what he wanted, and that was for your lips to stay exactly where they were. To stop you now would feel like abandoning a hearth in the winter. Instead of taking his hands against your shoulders, pushing you away to create some distance, he molded them around your hips.

You clasped your hands around his larger ones and placed them on your ass. You squeezed down on them, encouraging him to fondle you—to feel you—and he took to it as if he’d already thought about everywhere he’d like to grab.

Mistake or not, Eren knew if he ended it now, the palms of his hands would feel hollow the second you’d left them.

You didn’t bother debating between bedrooms and made the decision easy by heading for the couch. If you were being honest, you’d thought about fucking on this couch before—not with Eren obviously. The cushions were deep-set and roomier than most. It was evident you and Mikasa didn’t spend a fortune on it, but at least it was firm and wouldn’t give too much beneath you. You felt like it was made for fucking but respected your roommates enough not to give it a spin. But with Eren, everything was shared. Everything belonged to you and him. You could do it wherever you wished.

Eren laid you back on the couch and positioned himself above you. You wriggled below him, attempting to make any space for him to fit between your legs. It was nearly impossible in such restricting denim. You mumbled a ‘hold on’ into his mouth as you darted your hands down for the button. He was eager to assist. Once your jeans were undone, he pulled them past your knees, freeing one leg so you could kick them off the other.

Settled between your legs, Eren kissed you again, and you tasted the desire on each other’s tongues. His sweats did little to hide how hard, and heavy, he was against your leg. You imagined if you slipped a hand below his waistband you would find he wasn’t wearing boxers.

You bunched his shirt in your fist. You tugged at the hem of it, lifting it out of your way so you could greedily glide your hand beneath. Tracing between the divots of his abs, you felt the way they tensed as you trailed higher up his chest. Once it was established that it wasn’t needed, Eren sat back on his calves to peel it over his head, and it was on the floor a second later. Yours was next, but it was a bit more complicated than his cotton tee.

“What the fuck,” he muttered once he realized it wasn’t coming off. He fiddled with the strings tied around your neck, more frantic to get under the fabric with his fingers and tongue than he was concerned with being romantic. “How did you even get this thing on?”

“Sasha helped,” you relied matter-of-factly, though a bit breathless.

Did she have to knot it this many times?

You arched your back as Eren slipped his hands beneath you, blindly reaching for any of the ties. The straps had been digging into your shoulders all night, marking your skin with soft indentations. With every slackened string there was a sense of relief until, eventually, Eren had the shirt bunched around your midsection, your tits out. That was what mattered to him; he could figure out the rest later.

He cupped your breast in his hand and brought his mouth to it. Your skin was supple and smooth under his impatient lips, balmy and warm from pressing your bodies together. With a pointed tongue, he flicked over your nipple. When it was perked, he sucked lightly until your breathing began to flutter. He pulled off you with a pop, thumbing over your nipple as he turned to gift his attention to the other.

Eren’s touch was resolute, weighed down by hunger as his hand mapped its way down your side. It both unnerved and ignited you—the titillating vulnerability that came with being with someone new; how he caressed you for the purpose of exploring, seeing for himself what you liked best.

Heat pooled in your stomach. Lapped at you like the tides, though far less tranquil. Summery waters lured you in, kept you still and contented beneath Eren, kissing him, letting him kiss you, everywhere. From your neck and the dip in the center of your collarbone, focusing the most on your breasts. Then at your hipbones next, where it tickled the most. He must have liked the sound you made, reminiscent of an airy giggle, because he grazed his teeth there, pulling the noise from you again.

But as was certain, the tides would ebb; tepid waves turned to sea swells. Deep in your stomach, that dull yet glowy ache begged you to do something about it, your hips kneading into him, inviting him to tear off your underwear and fuck you already.

Eren leaned back when his fingers met your underwear. He hooked the band of them with his index finger, toyingly sliding it along your stomach. On instinct, you twitched, feeling frustratingly helpless to him. You bit back a strangled murmur along with a hiss urging him to get on with it.

Though your panties separated you and him, his eyes were still transfixed on where you wanted him most. And he knew how badly you wanted him there by the telling damp spot on the fabric.

Eren pressed the pad of his thumb to it, his other fingers rested atop your pelvis. He made soft circles against you, slow and testing. He observed every flick and flinch in your expression, his mouth slightly slacked in a smile that widened with your whimpers.

When he finally started to remove your underwear, it revealed just how wet you were for him—for your roommate. The back of your neck fevered when you noticed the lewd string connecting you to the soaked fabric. Eren snapped it with his thumb, and your humiliation only worsened when you watched him bring it to his mouth.

He didn’t anticipate going down on you. You only wanted to get off, and so did he, and a quick fuck would more than achieve that. But as he played with your clit, your tiny moans had him craving to hear how you sounded when you were wrecked, sobbing out for more. And with the way you were spread and dripping below him—well, he wouldn’t want any of it to go to waste. Not with how sweet you tasted.

So without hesitation, Eren dove between your thighs, gripping your hips and pulling you against the heat of his mouth.

Immediately, you throw your head back. It bumped the armrest with a thud loud enough to catch Eren’s attention. He glanced up to check on you, and right then, you found the sight of him inexplicitly striking. You didn’t know why, but it was as if his piercing eyes had pinned you to the spot for him, like he had control despite being down between your legs. You went blind to anything but him and his eyes, dazzlingly green against the flush tinting his cheeks.

Once he realized you were all right—it didn’t faze you one bit—Eren pressed a kiss against your clit before swiping his tongue through you. You shivered as he licked you with broad, lazy strokes of his tongue, savoring you, the button tip of his nose nudging your clit.

“Oh, God,” you breathed sharply, chin tucked to your chest, following it with a series of heavenly moans that were anything but holy.

Eren parted you with two fingers. He added more pressure with his tongue and swirled it around your clit. You screwed your lips together rather than allowing another cry to spill from you. It bubbled in your throat, and you swallowed thickly to keep it at bay before the neighbors could learn how debauched you sounded when Eren made you come. But when he closed his lips around your clit, sucking gently, you had no choice but to bite your knuckle instead.

Admittedly, you had wondered if he was actually talented at this or if the girls on the other side of his bedroom walls were only trying to boost his ego. He answered your inexplicit question by delving his tongue inside you, fucking you with it.

“Don’t stop,” you rushed to choke out, your back curving up from the cushions. “I’m almost there.”

Closer. You needed him closer.

You clung your hand to his head, raked your fingers through his hair. The useless tie slipped from it as you disheveled his bed head further. You pushed back the pieces that hid him from you, tugging as you angled him to the spot that made your thighs quiver.

“Do that again,” Eren breathed, fanning the command over you.

You did. He groaned, and you felt the couch shift as he rutted into it.

Your stomach contracted, that last gasp hitching in your lungs. Whatever glorious thing he was doing with his tongue felt like fire licking up your spine. He brought you to the very brink of becoming undone until you were writhing as you teetered it.

It was slick between your legs, you and the cushion beneath you drenched in your arousal and saliva. Eren’s mouth slipped around the more you wiggled. It didn’t matter where he held you, how deep his fingers dug into the fat of your thighs, he couldn’t keep you still. At this rate, you’d fall off the couch, undoubtedly taking him with you.

Eren wrapped his hands around the backs of your knees, pinning them to your chest in a reminder to hold them out of his way. You replaced his hands with your own, whining when you felt his fingers at your slit. He glided them between you, coating them until they slipped right inside. He dragged them in and out of you, increasing his speed until he discovered the tempo that made you pulse around him. Then he curled them, just right, aiding his tongue in driving you to your release.

“I’m coming—fuck, I’m coming,” you whispered, ragged and hardly audible at the end.

Eren sounded equally muffled, groaning as you started rolling your hips over his mouth. You heard him mumbling, but it was distant and overshadowed by your heart thrumming in your ears. You couldn’t make out what he was saying—something about how fucking hot it was—but you felt his raspy timbre vibrating against you as you shattered.

Your legs dropped to your sides, quivering as you rode out the final pulses of your orgasm. You closed your eyes, unable to focus on anything but finding your breath.

Eren planted a long kiss against you, easing you down with wet, open-mouthed kisses, trailed from your inner thighs to below your navel. Each sent another shock through you. He continued until you were face-to-face again.

“How was that?” Eren asked. He was cheeky with it, grinning and everything, so you responded by flicking his bicep.

He was still smug about it as he tilted to kiss beneath your jaw, intermittently nibbling at your earlobe. You lolled your head back, offering the expanse of your neck to him. But when you saw him reach for the band of his sweatpants, you rested a hand against his arm.

It took him a second, but when it clicked, he said, “Condom. Right,” and pushed himself off the couch.

Your shirt was still gathered around your midsection, clammy and sticking to your skin. You wriggled free of it, shimmying it over your head before you flung it to the opposite side of the room. It felt wrong to lay on the couch like this, bare and fully exposed. You thought to cover up with a blanket but reminded yourself there was no point; it’d be on the floor, just like everything else, in a matter of minutes.

You were still lying there, fidgety and a bit limp, when Eren returned. He was rustling with the condom wrapper as he joined you on the couch. Calmly as ever, like he’d done it a million times before, he lifted your legs to make room, setting them over his lap as he sat beside you. He smirked to himself when he noticed you were shaky in his grasp.

Eren leaned in as you rose to meet him. One of his hands supported your lower back while his other trailed up your inner thigh. His fingertips ghosted over the spots he had tasted not long ago until he was back between your legs, almost like he had never left. You melted into him with a dreamy sigh the instant he began to rub gently, placing his lips to yours as he did.

You looped your arms around his neck. His hand left your back, and you heard the familiar crinkling as he reached for the condom.

Eren reveled in every flimsy little breath you let spill into his mouth. He tightened his circles, expertly attuned to your clit. He gauged your reaction, noticing when your lips began to stutter against his own. He felt them curve into a small ‘o’ as he picked up where you couldn’t—kissing you, sucking your tongue, skimming his teeth along it, until your angelic sounds turned depraved.

The intensity at which Eren wanted this—wanted you—surprised him. You had barely spoken in eleven days, and he spent the better of the night grumbling and bitter about it, positive you’d never want to see him again. Now, it was as if you never wanted to leave his lap, and he wasn’t sure he’d let you. He could play with your perfect pussy all night; so perfect that he had no choice but to give you a taste; how warm and wet and soft you were around his fingers; how you’d feel even better around his cock.

Just thinking about it had him rutting into your leg, just once, in a helpless search for friction.

Eren caught your chin between his thumb and index finger. He tilted you away from his lips as he spoke against the side of your face. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Your face was puckered, squishing your languid and needy, “Yes.”

He angled your jaw further. “Then tell me how you want it.”

You felt his lips tickle over your pulse point. Kissing it, sucking it, nipping at it.

“Fuck,” you cursed on an agonizingly long hiss.

“Well obviously.” Eren gave a breathy laugh. The vibrato of it echoed through you. “Look at me.” You did, as much as you could; he was still cupping your face. “How do you want me to fuck you.”

You shook his hand off, panting, “I want it rough.” Grabbing him by the shoulder, you pulled him down until he collapsed over you. You smoothed his hair back before taking his face between your hands. You wanted to see the reaction in his eyes when you told him, “Let me feel it.”

You said it as if you’d thought about it before. Eren couldn’t help but wonder if your ex did, in fact, have a reason to worry. He told himself it was a problem for tomorrow and didn’t question it again. Tonight, his only obstacle was that he was still in his sweatpants, but it was swiftly resolved when you both reached for them.

Once they were gone, Eren sloppily licked his palm. You’d almost call it crass if it didn’t shamefully turn you on, watching him wrap his hand around his cock. His eyelashes fluttered at the small bit of release. He fisted himself a few times, unbothered by your blatant staring, before rolling the condom on.

He had you on your back, your head laid on the armrest again. One of your legs was hitched around his waist, and your other dangled from the couch, creating enough space for him to nestle in between.

You felt him—how hard he was for you—pressed in the crease of your thigh. With a hand around his base, he lined himself up with you. The tip of his cock threatened to push inside you, but he only glided it between your folds in one slow, encompassing stroke. And just as slowly, an overwhelming warmth tingled down your spine.

Eren continued toying with your clit. The condom’s lube and your wetness made it easy for the head of his cock to slip between you, to dip inside and tease you. But it wasn’t long before he was only teasing himself. Teeming with anticipation, you were already clenching around him so nicely, and he hadn’t even put more than the tip in.

It wasn’t like he was any better. When Eren felt your heel dig into his lower back, wordlessly pleading with him to fuck you, he succumbed. Not with a tilt of his hips but with one plunging thrust.

Your mouth hinged open, but nothing came out. Your wilted gasp was lost somewhere in the depths of your throat. You swallowed it down before you could choke.

Caged between his arms, you were close enough to catch the slight tremble in his biceps, only once he had filled you, entirely, his body flush against your own. Above you, Eren’s eyes squeezed shut. His lips parted in a shaky, dare you say it, beautiful sigh. Thrilled, your muscles naturally spasmed around the thick of him.

Eren stilled to adjust to you; your sensitive, needy pussy wasn’t making it easy on him. Of course, you felt fucking amazing. Just as good as he imagined, but so much tighter when he split you on his cock, not with his fingers.

He took his sweet time pulling out of you, losing himself a little more as he went, ensuring you felt every inch of him, just to bury inside you generously again.

Eren fucked you with smooth rolls of his hips. And God, it was effortless how he slid into you, over and over, thanks to how wet you were. You scraped at the cushion as if it were a bed sheet, as if you could twist the taut fabric between your fingers to ground yourself.

Once Eren discovered a pace that had you both breathing harder, his head dropped. You took it as an opportunity to muffle your moans, mouthing over his neck, right where it met his shoulder. You kissed him there, flattening your hands against his back to hold him to your mouth like you wanted him to smother you.

His skin tasted salty against your tongue. If he kissed you now, you were sure you’d taste the same, the heat between you growing feverish the more you ground against each other in a sticky lust.

When the blunt of your teeth dragged over his skin, you’d argue the groan he gave tapered into a low whimper. So you did it again, harsher this time. You bit down on him, the lean muscle giving easily, and it kept you quiet enough. It did pull another sound from Eren, though. He muttered some incoherent curses you couldn’t make out, and you would have thought you hurt him if not for the way his steady thrusts sped into pounding.

The couch was a tricky place to have sex, but you knew that already. You made it more complicated than it needed to be, forgoing the two bedrooms you had at your disposal, full-sized beds and all, and cramped yourselves onto this sofa because you couldn’t keep your greedy hands to yourselves long enough to think ahead.

Already, this position wasn’t going to work. Half of you had slipped from the couch, even more with each of Eren’s thrusts. He’d hoist you back into place only for you—the pathetic, squirmy thing you were—to falter over the edge again. Only your ass at first, then it was your whole leg. Then the process would repeat.

Eren sat back slightly. He closed his hands around your waist and yanked you to him, further down onto his cock.

With a yelp, your head fell from the armrest and lightly bounced against the cushion. He replaced it with your hands, pinning them high above your head with a sturdy grasp on your wrist. Your knees threatened to clamp around him, and he used his other hand to hold you open for him, gripping the fat of your inner thigh.

“Keep ‘em spread for me,” Eren growled. “Wider.”

You liked how his voice sounded right then, almost like gravel. You’d never heard it like that, all raspy and weighed down by his lust. That and the subtle pinch in his brow gave away just how turned on he was.

You fucked like that for… You weren’t sure how long exactly. Time was irrelevant after three a.m. anyway, wasn’t it? One particularly good thrust—his hips sputtering and grinding against you as if he could go any deeper—had his elbow buckling. Unable to hold himself up and continue his ruthless pace, he chose neither and flipped you onto your stomach.

Eren tossed you onto the armrest. You planted your forearms into it, propping yourself up. You felt his hand at the center of your back, forcing a nice bend in it for him. He smoothed it down lower, taking a handful of your ass and indulgently spreading you just to watch him disappear inside.

Too weak to hold your head up, you let it drop between your shoulders, gritting a wakened, “Fuck—you’re deep.”

When he sank into you fully, bottoming out, the head of his cock brushed the spot that had you briefly seeing stars.

Eren slowed at your dubious remark, unsure what to make of it. The moment he did, you made it clear, demanding, “Keep going.”

He began ramming into you, his hand still searing into your spine. You were too far gone, too focused on coming again, to hold back any longer. The noises that poured from you were pornographic. Short and breathy bleats of ‘right there, right there’ as his cock set sparks between your legs.

Your fingers flexed and relaxed around nothing, nails piercing the meat of your palms fiercely enough to leave them tender. You didn’t know if you needed him harder or faster, and through a few choked gasps, you could only wail a pleading, “Fuck me.”

You emphasized it by rocking back into him, smushing the back of your thighs against the front of his. It said enough.

Eren’s hands found your hips and settled into the crease where they met your stomach.

“Let me know if it’s too much.”

He was so casual that it almost irritated you. Whatever snippy comment you wanted to make, you kept it to yourself for the sake of getting off again. And you were glad you did because you would have eaten your words not a second later.

Eren fucked you with one foot planted into the floor, and his opposite on the couch cushion. His first thrust stole your breath; the second knocked it back into you. He took you from behind, sealing every rut of his hips by jerking you back on his cock. In the tangled spot where ‘too much’ became ‘yes, yes, yes!’ you were lost in messy throes of pleasure.

The sound of smacking skin was more severe than even your loudest of cries. Between, you could hear Eren’s grunts and huffs through his nose, restrained, but telling of just how riled up he was to be ravaging you like this. You closed your eyes and tuned into how good you were making him feel.

Your eyes shot open when you felt your upper body slipping over the armrest, your body lurching forward with the brutal snapping of his hips. You extended a hand to the floor, the wood cool under your clammy palm, to brace yourself. And bent over that armrest, your ass perched in the air for him, you let him have you.

Eren didn’t let you hang there long, just long enough for the blood to rush to your head a bit. You were blinking and dizzy as he gracelessly swung you upright, maneuvering you so you were straddling his lap. You went with him, willingly and submissively.

You lifted to your knees before Eren seized you by the waist to impale you on his cock. You gripped his biceps as a wispy moan left you—something like an ‘ah–hah’ as a loose smile tickled at the corners of your ajar lips. Once you’d finished pulsing around him, he took care of the rest, working you up and down over his length.

He looked you squarely in the face, jaw tight and eyelids heavy with a determined look of lust. You wanted to clear the hair from his face, but before you could, you were kissing again, roughly and carelessly, with him humming as you licked into his open mouth.

When you pulled away, you were panting. Saliva connected his lips to yours. Eren’s eyes flitted down, briefly distracted by your tits, before returning to your face.

“You look good like this,” Eren told you, his voice a bit strained. He snapped the spitty string with a flick of his chin.

“Like what?” you tried to sass, but it came out warbled as he bounced you on his cock. “Getting fucked by you?”

“Exactly,” he panted through a smug half-grin. “Gonna think about this—you taking my cock so fucking good—every time I jerk off.”

That mental image did things to you.

“Mm, fuck,” you groaned, long and sweet, your teeth bearing down on your bottom lip. You shoved a hand between your legs. “I’m close—keep talking.”

If your head wasn’t tossed back, you would have wanted to slap the sick smile off Eren’s face. He would have never suspected you’d be into dirty talk.

“Oh, yeah? Gonna come again?” You nodded dumbly. “Playing with yourself—whining on top of me but can’t get there on your own, huh? Need me to tell you to come, don’t you, pretty girl?”

The words were heavy on his breath and settled in the depths of your chest.

“Yes,” you breathed, rubbing at yourself desperately.

You sensed Eren was enjoying this—uttering filth to you—as much as you did, perhaps even more. His hips sputtered as they bucked into yours, as if he wasn’t already rashly pulling you against him, stuffed to the hilt. You could already see the reddened, blotchy marks this would leave on his thighs, an unavoidable consequence of fucking like animals.

“I wanna hear you say it.”

You started rolling your hips. “I need you to make me come—please make me come.”

His cock jolted inside you, but he didn’t relent. He wanted to play with you a bit longer.

“Tell me how pretty—ah—how pretty you’re gonna look coming on my cock.”

You were right fucking there. So close that you’d do just anything—say anything. It’d spill out of you like a babbly, drooly mess of course, but you’d say it.

“So pretty—” Your shiver reverberated through your whimper, your insides ignited. “I’ll look so pretty for you when I come.”

“Fuck yeah, you are.” He punctuated it with a firm slap on your ass. You didn’t feel it because you were coming, deliriously hard.

You sounded pitchy and whiny and you just knew Eren would tease you for it in the future. You wished you could cover your mouth, but you were too overwhelmed to do anything but hold on tighter. It hit you in ripples, and you rode out every one of them, carving your nails into Eren’s arms like you could wring out the last drops of your orgasm.

“God damn,” Eren remarked, voice tight, “You needed that one, didn’t you?”

He was right, but you wouldn’t have answered even if you could.

When your shaky comedown finally subsided, it left you in a haze. You fell into him, hooking your chin on his shoulder. Soft, happy hums escaped you while you stayed there, contented, as Eren worked toward his own high.

He could have come two positions ago, but he finally allowed it to well up in the deepest part of his gut. His hands abandoned your hips only for him to lock his arms around you, holding you there to fuck up into.

Eren’s breathing began to pick up, his chest heaving against you. His thrusting turned erratic until he pumped into you one last time, deep, and kept you flush to him. It was your name on his tongue, the word he buried into your neck as he groaned from the back of his throat.

You felt him throbbing inside you as he emptied into the condom. Gradually, he moved you over his length a few times to ease himself down. After, he started to lift you off his lap. His oversensitive cock slipped from you, tearing a tiny hiss from him. When he let you go, you crumpled to the couch.

You stayed like that for a minute, staring at the ceiling, hand folded over your chest as you timed your racing heart. By the time it evened, Eren patted your leg and stood up.

He went to the bathroom; you knew it because you saw the fluorescent light seep into the hallway. You listened to the faucet turn on, then searched for your underwear and a blanket.

You’d already wrapped yourself in a fleece and snuggled into the couch by the time Eren returned. Your eyes lazily followed him as he pulled on his sweatpants and double-checked that you locked the door when you came home.

He flicked the light off, but when he realized you weren’t following him to your respective bedrooms, he turned back to ask, “Aren’t you coming to bed?”

You didn’t want to get up yet, whether it was because you were too sleepy, or because your body felt too doughy to walk, or because the thought of tomorrow now felt like a threat.

“No,” you told him. You tugged the blanket to your nose and nuzzled into it. “Not yet.”

“Okay.”

You figured that was that, but then you saw him head to the other side of the couch. It shuddered beneath his weight as he slumped into its cushions. When you sat up to look at him, he answered your question before you could open your mouth.

“I’ll stay here then, too,” he said cooly.

“Why?”

Eren thought on it, and though he didn’t decide on an answer, he was just as content with, “I don’t know. Just want to.”

Everything was silver in the moonlight, barely sneaking in through the cracks in the blind. All the color had been smudged away like ink, except for Eren’s eyes. You made out the glint in them as he wittily quoted you from earlier.

You smiled. “But I thought you were mad at me for waking you up.”

“I got over it,” he said with a leisurely shrug. “Besides, for some odd reason, I’m not so tired anymore.”

You laughed lightly through your nose, and Eren tossed you a small smile in return.

He was still shirtless—not that you minded, there was no point in modesty now—with an arm sprawled along the back of the couch. His breaths were no longer heavy, neither of yours were, but you could tell he was still cooling off from your pornstar sex because he was quick to tie his hair up again. Neater this time, with every strand up and off the nape of his neck.

His neck.

Eren noticed the way your eyes widened. It freaked him out. “What?”

You stifled a cackle. “That’s a nasty hickey you got there, Eren.”

He frowned. “Shit.” He started pawing at his neck, looking down as if he could possibly see it. “Is it that bad?”

“A little.” You leaned in to poke it, but he swatted you away. It only made you giggle harder as you said, “Hey, can you put on our show? The one I like.”

“You don’t even know the name of it! How can you say you like it?”

“I know it! I just—can’t remember it right now,” you said both confidently and sheepishly, if that was even possible.

He raised his eyebrow at you; you didn’t like it. “So I was just that good, huh?”

You snatched one of the pillows and launched it at his head. “I thought we said we weren’t going to make this weird!”

As you said it, Eren broke out into the sort of laughter you only heard from someone occasionally, one that made it feel like you could get back to the way things were—before everything.

And they would, just as Eren hoped. Except now, he had a pretty good solution for the next time he pissed you off.

thank you for reading ♡

#eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren smut #eren jaeger smut #eren yeager smut

1K notes · View notes

ddejavvu · 9 months

Note

criminal minds request:

Hotch and reader have a some tension between them ever since reader joined the team. They never acted upon it knowing that the relationship would be the hr nightmare.

They live in the same complex and reader is spending the night with someone from the bar and Aaron interrupts with the news of a case.

I love your writing btw

thanks! <3

this post is 18+, minors dni.

Aaron's been inside of your apartment only a few times before, but he could walk there in his sleep. That's almost what he wishes he was doing, instead of marching towards your door at one thirty-six in the morning, but duty calls, and though he'd tried to do the same, you hadn't answered your phone.

When he reaches your door Aaron can hear faint noise inside, and something like annoyance prickles at his chest at the thought that you'd ignored his phone call to watch television. But he finds himself seldom able to feel anything but secretly fond of you, so he tries to give you the benefit of the doubt.

What the door opens to is far worse than television. Instead of the faint glow of a screen lighting the couch, Aaron is met with the sight of a man, mostly naked and only draped in a sheet. Your sheet.

This man was in your bed.

"Yeah?" He asks, rather rudely, "It's the middle of the night, man. What do you want?"

He suspects you've asked the man to answer the door because you don't want to do it yourself, appearing alone at night in most likely very little clothing. Aaron commends you on your survival skills, but can't shake the feeling that he suddenly wants to try his hand at murder.

"I'm Y/N's boss," Aaron mutters, eyes set in a sharp glare, "She's needed at the office."

"Man, fuck off," Your houseguest scoffs, "That's not gonna work on me. Leave her alone, you creep, or at least come back with a better lie next time."

The man tries swinging the door shut, but before Aaron can wedge the freshly polished toe of his shoe into the gap, you squeal from down the hallway.

"Hotch?"

"We have a case," Aaron barks, voice still rough at the presence of the other man present, "You didn't answer your phone."

"I'm sorry!" You come running down the hallway while wrestling with the waistband of sweatpants Aaron hopes are your own, fully clothed in those and a tank top as you reach the door.

"Uh, Dominic, this is- he's my boss," You pat the man's bare back apologetically where you sidle up beside him, "I have to go."

Dominic doesn't seem to be particularly kind to anyone, Aaron muses. The man rounds on you with a furrow in his brow that Aaron doesn't like one bit, "Seriously? Some suited-up fuck comes to your door in the middle of the night and you just run off with him?"

"It's my job," You plead earnestly, "I'm sorry! It's just bad timing."

"Whatever." Dominic grumbles, turning to stalk off down the hallway to retrieve his clothes, "Bad timing my ass."

Neither you nor Hotch decide to tell him that you can see the very thing he speaks of. He's only holding the towel over his front half, and the back half being completely exposed doesn't help the tough-guy persona he's trying to put on as he storms off.

"I'm sorry," You breathe, sounding truly apologetic as Aaron stands in your doorway, "I didn't hear my phone ring, I was- we were... well. I'll be dressed and ready in, like, ten minutes." You vow, "I just need to get him out of here."

Aaron's not sure he can manage to speak after your admission, because up until now he'd been trying to pretend there was somehow some other reason for there to be a naked man crawling out of your bed at two in the morning.

All he can muster is a terse nod, and you take it as disapproval rather than a bruised heart. You rush off to get changed, and Aaron hears Dominic bicker with you before he storms his way out of the hallway and through the door. Aaron doesn't move as he passes through, and Dominic runs into his broad shoulders. Aaron keeps his balance steady, not sparing Dominic a glance as the man makes a fool of himself on the way out.

"She's not even worth it, man," Dominic sneers at Hotch from down the hall, "She must be some kinda whore. Called me the wrong fucking name, like she does this every night. Aaron must have been the last guy."

Hotch is stuck. If he hadn't heard his own name escape Dominic's mouth he'd have used what he's learned as a serial killer specialist to dispose of Dominic's remains without ever being caught. He doesn't like the way that the man spoke of you one bit, but when he hears you've been speaking of him, his spine stiffens and his legs lock into place.

"Tell her I hope Aaron likes her mediocre tits more than I did!" Dominic shouts as a sendoff, and Aaron knows for a fact that he does. Mediocre is the last word he'd use to describe them, but he respects you and won't dwell on what term would be best.

Aaron almost regrets seeing Dominic leave, because he'd have liked to grill the man on exactly what went down in there. How did you say his name? When did you say his name? Did you say his name when glancing over at your ringing phone, and ultimately deciding to ignore it? Or did you say his name through an open-mouthed moan, sweat beading on your hairline and certainly-not-mediocre tits bouncing wildly with each thrust?

Aaron's head is so clouded with thoughts of your fucked-out, sex-hazy state that he's startled to feel your hand on his arm, and he tugs it out of your grasp, jerking away like he's been burned. Sure, his skin is on fire where you've touched him, but only because he wishes you'd do it more, especially in other places.

You take his reluctance to be touched as a bad sign, and your face dims into a hesitant frown as you stand at the ready by Hotch's side.

"I'm sorry, Hotch," You murmur, tucking your hand into the jacket that you're clutching now that you feel you've made a fool out of yourself, "Um- it won't happen again, sir."

He wants to kiss you. He wants to duck inside, slam your door shut, and press you against the inside, demanding a detailed account of why his name had fallen from your lips earlier in the heat of the moment. But he can't, he knows he can't, and he has to blink at your forlorn expression instead, feet heavy as he drags them away from your door, like magnets trying to pull him to your bedroom.

"No need for apologies, Agent." He grits his teeth, "What you do in your free time-" like moan my name "-is your business. Let's go, we're briefing on the plane; wheels up in thirty."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner one-shot #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner headcanon #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotchner hc #aaron hotchner hcs #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner dialogue #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction #aaron hotchner smut

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shenanigans-and-imagines · 7 months

Text

I Want It All: Part 3

Part 1, Part 2

Astarion x AsexaulBard!Tav Masterlist

Astarion x Reader, Astarion x Tav, Astarion x Asexual!Reader, Astarion x Bard!Reader

Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Soft!Astarion, Allusion to Astarion's Past (Sexual Assult/Dissociation)

Summary: You and Astarion had been playing this little game of yours for a while; he pretends to care, you pretend not to fall for it. It’s easy, even fun at times. The trouble is, what happens the moment you can’t pretend anymore?

A/N: Holy shit! It's done! Thank you so much to everyone who has commented and reblogged and just...everything. I cannot tell you how much it means to be to know this story has resonated with so many people. I don't have any plans to continue this as a larger story (I still haven't played the game); however, if anyone would like to send requests for small one-shots or headcanons involving Astarion and this Asexual!Tav, feel free to send me an ask.

Also, sorry if I didn't tag you. There were a lot of request, so I stuck to those who asked on the previous chapter.

And as always REBLOG AND COMMENT IF YOU LIKE THIS! I NEED VALIDATION TO SURVIVE!!!

Word Count: 5.2K

You didn’t sleep that night, but what else did you expect?

For hours you simply lay in the dark, staring at the window. The patter of rain was the only source of sound besides your own breathing. Even that small comfort didn’t last as the storm passed leaving behind cloud covered silence.

No tears came to you. What had you to grieve over? Everything you felt had been a product of your imagination. You knew that.

Still, it ached. There was a throbbing in your throat you couldn’t swallow down and a constant pressure behind your eyes. You almost wished you would cry, just to get it out of your system. If you could have a nice little breakdown, there was a chance you could get over this. It would be the slap in the face you needed to accept reality. Maybe then you’d stop doing this to yourself.

All the same, it stayed there, pressing heavy on your chest until the sun teased the edges of the clouds beaconing morning.

You groaned, burying your face into the pillow. You couldn’t lie and wallow the rest of the day. You had things to do, places to be, worms to destroy. The sooner you had something else to occupy your thoughts the better.

With an effort you pulled yourself out of bed and slowly made your way to the dining room.

You were a bit surprised to see everybody already up. Wyll, Karlach, Lae’zel, Shadowheart, and Gale were already seated with plates of half eaten food in front of them. Two seats were still empty, settings ready and untouched. A quick look around confirmed the rest, Astarion had yet to make an appearance.

“Morning everyone,” you said, trying your best to be cheerful as you sat yourself between Gale and Wyll.

You could feel all their eyes on you, no doubt noticing the dark circles under yours.

“Morning,” Gale greeted. “I trust you slept well.”

He let out a small yelp of pain.

You looked up to catch him glaring at Shadowheart as she shot him a disapproving look.

You frowned. Did she just kick him?

“I mean, ah, did you lie comfortably?” he amended.

“Seriously?” Karlach questioned.

You swore you could feel the heat of Gale’s blush, as he grumbled into his toast. “Damn it, you know what I mean.”

“Do I?” you asked.

“We just hoped you spent the rest of the night…pleasantly,” Wyll tried, and ultimately failed.

Your stomach flipped, as harsh, dreadful realization washed over you. Yes, of course they would.

“You don’t look well,” Lae’zel noted. “After all his boasting, I had thought Astarion would leave his partners more satisfied.”

You didn’t say anything, deciding to take a bite of egg as an excuse. Now would be a great time for the ground to open and swallow you into the hells. Gods knew it would be an improvement.

“She’s right,” Shadowheart said, sounding a little annoyed to admit it. “You do look tired and not the good kind. Did something happen?”

“Did he hurt you,” Wyll said, his brow furrowing in sudden concern.

“What?! No!” you said quickly. “Nothing happened.”

“How’d you mean nothing happened?” Karlach put in. “We all saw what we saw. How could anyone turn down all of that?”

Fresh embarrassment washed over you, making you wish you could erase the last twenty-four hours and crawl into the nearest, deepest hole. You had spent the whole night worried about what Astarion would make of your vision, you had all but forgotten you had shared that part of yourself with all of your companions. Of course they would have their own interpretations.

“It wasn’t like that.”

A quick look around the table gave away the doubtful thoughts of all.

You took a deep breath, willing yourself to calm. They weren’t going to believe you if you were emotional about this.

“Look, I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine. As I said, nothing happened. We talked, and it became clear that we just want different things. That’s the beginning and the end of it. Now are we done or are you all going to keep chattering on like a bunch of fishwives?”

The silence at the table was palpable as everyone exchanged looks.

Alright, maybe being calm wasn't a realistic expectation, but you hadn’t lied. Sure, there were some details you neglected to share, but that really was the long and the short of it. He hadn’t done anything wrong and neither had you. It just didn’t work out.

The plain truth of it settled in your heart carving out a hollow space for it to lay in.

Gale was the first to act, clearing his throat. “Fair enough, the matter is closed. Please, accept our apology. With such an intimate group as ours, it’s sometimes easy to forget that one’s personal matters can be well and truly personal.”

He looked at the rest of the group, each nodding in agreement to various degrees of reluctancy.

“Just for the record though, if you need someone to knock some sense into that pretty boy’s head, you just need to ask,” Karlach offered.

Despite yourself, you had to smile. “I’ll think about it.”

You then turned to Gale, who met you with kind eyes and a comforting smile. You let yourself be warmed by it, even if you still felt a little guilty for snapping. He really did understand. It was easy for heartbreak to recognize heartbreak.

“Thank you,” you murmured.

To your surprise, his first instinct wasn’t to reach for words, but rather your hand as he gave your fingers a gentle squeeze.

“Anytime.”

“Good morning everyone. Gossiping without me?”

You whipped your head around to find Astarion standing near the head of the table, a sardonic smile on his lips and a hard glare in his eyes. No doubt he had heard everything.

Everybody shifted in their seats, glancing between you and Astarion. You averted your gaze, focusing hard on the table in front of you.

Gale’s hand still rested over yours. Whatever comfort it had given you, faded as something akin to panic flooded your veins. In the next second, you rose from your chair, scraping it hard against the floor in your hurry.

“I’ve still got some packing to do,” you said. “Be back down in a few.”

Coward’s way out? Yes, but after the night you had, you figured you were entitled to it.

Keeping your head down, you slipped past Astarion, feeling him watch you as you made your way back up the stairs.

If you had lingered a moment, you might have caught the flash of hurt in his eyes. You might have noticed how his clothes were more rumpled than usual. You might even have seen his hand twitch with the instinct to reach for yours. But you didn’t see, and anything that might have happened disappeared in a brush of air.

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

The next several days carried on in much the same way. Not as torturous as that first morning, but still a drudge of avoidance and awkward silences.

In your defense, Astarion seemed just as keen to keep his distance. Where he used to be your preverbal shadow, filling the hours of travel with idle teasing and conversation, now he kept to the back, his mouth decidedly shut.

The others caught on and seemed determined to make up the difference. Karlach, Shadowheart and Wyll especially made a point to walk alongside you, telling stories and jokes in an attempt to make you smile.

You did your best. They meant well, but in some ways they only served to emphasize the absence of another.

Gale, on the other hand, had the foresight to try a different approach. He made it clear he didn’t expect you to talk, but always made sure you had the best spot by the fire and a little extra of whatever he made for the camp. You had to wonder if Tara had provided a similar comfort to him after Mystra. It was obvious he had the practice.

Even Lae’zel offered to help you train it off, something about how your, “objectively weak body had left the rest of you vulnerable to attack”. A part of you felt the insult, but the gesture was appreciated.

Honestly, all of this care was starting to make you feel guilty. None of them were giving Astarion the same courtesy. He wasn’t being shunted exactly, but the message was loud and clear; they were on your side.

This was met by him taking a step back from the late night conversations. His interactions with the others were kept short and lacked his usual humorous flare. He took his shifts on watch alone and he spent even more time either roaming the forest or in his tent.

The only person he consistently spoke to was Gale, which should have raised some alarm bells on their own, but you never caught what they were discussing. All you knew was Astarion never appeared especially pleased while Gale gave a look of someone begging the gods for patience.

All of this was your fault. You just wanted things to go back to normal. Even if you couldn’t be with Astarion the way you imagined, you still valued his friendship. If this kept up, there was a chance he might decide to leave all together. An olive branch was needed, something to signal you didn’t hold a grudge or expect anything more.

The answer came to you one early evening as you took note of his haggard looks and less than graceful steps out of camp. He hadn’t fed on you in a week and there was only so much deer and boar could do.

You considered simply offering up your neck, but that felt too forward. Besides, you weren’t sure if you were ready to have him that close. The only other solution you could think of was to bleed yourself somehow.

This proved more difficult than you first imagined. Astarion seemed to have an instinct for where to bite, balancing enough blood for himself without causing any permanent damage. You couldn’t boast the same. It took more than one cut to fill an empty goblet with what you hoped to be the right amount of blood. You’d ask Shadowheart to heal you properly later. Hopefully she’d accept a poorly executed knife trick as an excuse.

You wrapped your wrist as best you could and, watching to make sure the others weren’t looking, slipped into Astarion’s tent.

You were immediately hit with the scent of bergamot, rosemary, and aged brandy. A sense of calm washed over you at the familiar combination, settling comfortably in your lungs as you took in the space.

A single candle remained lit, allowing just enough light for you to appreciate the rich purple and red fabrics lining the walls as well as the sheer number of pillows littering the floor. How he managed to pack so many was a mystery you doubt you would ever solve. The whole set up was down right ornate, but considering this was Astarion you were talking about, you shouldn’t have been surprised.

It was only then you realized you’d never been inside before. He’d invited you more than once, but you’d always turned him down preferring to keep your feeding session in the open air. You had known, even then, any closer would give the wrong impression; all for naught it seemed.

You pushed the thought aside, pulling your attention back to the matter at hand. There had to be some place you could put the goblet where he wouldn’t knock it over. Why did he have to keep a side table outside the tent?

A shuffle came from just outside. Focusing your ears, you caught the tread of boots on grass transition to the nearly silent carpet just outside the tent flap. You turned using those handful of extra seconds to school your features into something passively innocent as Astarion ducked inside.

His whole body froze, his arm holding the fabric above his head as his eyes went wide. For a long moment, neither of you said anything.

You took advantage of his momentary shock to examine his appearance more closely. He looked…well, tired and more than a little confused. No blood marked his shirt or his lips. His pants appeared to have taken a tear or two from a bramble bush. Even his hair looked just a bit disheveled in a way so unlike himself.

“No luck hunting?” you said, unable to keep the concern out of your voice.

He stared, as if your words were coming from somewhere far away and required extra time to reach his ears.

“I’ve had better,” he finally said.

You nodded in understanding, shifting awkwardly as your eyes went to the goblet in your hands.

“Here,” you offered. “No offense, but you look like you could use it.”

He gave a tight smile. “I’d say no offense taken, but this is me we’re talking about.” All the same, he took the cup, sniffing it cautiously. He blinked hard, his brows furrowing as he stuck his nose further into the cup and took a deep whiff.

“Is this yours?” he asked.

You shrugged, holding up your bandaged wrist. “Whose else would it be?”

His mouth parted slightly as if to say something before closing it again.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said, his tone oddly serious.

“I know,” you assured. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Once again, he opened his mouth as if to speak, but instead released a breath of a laugh, allowing whatever tension he had formed in those last few seconds to fall from his shoulders.

“I know I shouldn’t be surprised, but it seems I can’t help it with you.”

Before you could ask him what exactly he meant, he raised the goblet to his lips and drank.

The effect was instantaneous. Your blood met his tongue and any control he had slipped away. His pupils dilated to those of a predator as he guzzled the whole thing down in two deep swallows. He let out a gasp of air before returning to the cup, licking the sides so not to waste a drop. A low hum of bliss came from deep in his chest as he savored the rest, allowing his fingers to scrap the bottom before bringing it back to his mouth.

The sight should have left you horrified, but in truth, it was encouraging. Things would be different, but you could at least provide him this.

“Do you need more?” you asked.

This time his laugh was loud and genuine as he wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand before licking the remains; yet another thing you found inexplicably endearing. He really was just a big cat sometimes.

“Dangerous thing to offer me in this state, darling,” he said. “Luckily for you, I found a nice burrow of rabbits yesterday.”

Once satisfied there was truly nothing left, he set the goblet down on the ground before turning his attention to your wrist.

“Let me see,” he said, reaching out a hand.

“It’s fine,” you promised. “I’ll get Shadowheart to look at it later.”

“I’ll be the judge of that, give it here.”

Knowing there was no fighting him, you relented, allowing him to unwrap the bandages.

He visibly winced as he examined the litter of harsh scratches along your skin. “What did you use? A rusty spoon?”

“I had trouble finding a good vein,” you said, feeling the need to defend yourself. You hadn’t thought it looked that bad.

“Oh is that all? And here I thought you’d lost an argument with a displacer beast.”

You pressed your lips into an annoyed line, but Astarion was already digging around his pack, coming back with a salve and potion of healing.

“Drink this.”

You shook your head, ignoring the pleasant little flutter in your chest at the gesture. “I told you, I’ll just ask Shadowheart.”

“Oh this isn’t just for you,” he said, dryly. “Do you think I want her believing you’d willingly butcher yourself just to give me a proper meal? Neither of us would hear the end of it.”

A small flush of embarrassment worked up your neck. He was right, of course. The party really hadn’t been subtle in their disapproval. It was the reason you had tried for discretion.

Without further protest you accepted the potion.

This seemed to appease him as he quickly got to work on applying the salve.

He had bought it not long after you had come to your little feeding arrangement. It helped to sooth small cuts and bruises while minimizing the threat of scars. He had initially offered to provide…other services to relieve the pain, but you had declined. This was the compromise. You’d offered to do it yourself, but he insisted, claiming it was the least he could do. In truth, it was all very…transactional.

This felt different. The hesitation he so often held, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop, was gone. His touch was gentle, his expression focused and his body oddly relaxed. It didn’t feel like an obligation, but an act of kindness, one he was more than willing to give.

Any nerves that remained slipped away. You could find a way to live with this. Certainly it was more than others had given you in the past.

Once he was done, he pulled fresh bandages from his bag and began redressing your wounds with decidedly more precision than you had.

“I am glad you’re here,” he said, breaking the silence. “I was hoping we could talk.”

A sharp sting of anxiety pressed itself into your skin.

“Oh?”

He nodded, tying off the bandage. “I think it’s important.”

You swallowed. The instinct to run pulled at your feet, but you managed to keep it in check. You owed him that much.

“Well, I’m here so…let’s talk.”

He breathed out an audible sigh of relief, raising his hands up as he took a small step back.

“Just stand there a moment. Don’t move.”

He spun around, rummaging through various bags before letting out a cry of triumph. He stepped back holding what looked to be a violin string glowing with magical golden light.

Your head tilted to the side as your eyes narrowed. “Is that…?”

“Part of the violin, yes,” he admitted. “Bit of a story. Short version, Gale was able to extract one of the strings. It shouldn’t cause any permanent damage to the instrument, as far as I know.”

You raised a doubtful eyebrow. “And Gale just let you pluck this from his tent did he?”

Astarion shifted uncomfortably. “Not exactly. I, ah, may have had some trouble understanding how it worked and…inquired as to his assistance.”

“You asked Gale for help?” you asked, astonished.

“Don’t make me relive the experience,” he lamented. “He told me the strings themselves have different magical properties in order to create the effect you demonstrated the other night. Apparently this one alone compels people to tell the truth.”

He then took the string and carefully wrapped it around his wrist before handing the other half to you.

Your eyes widened, glancing between him and the offered cord. “What are you doing?”

“Leveling the playing field,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

You shook your head, taking a step back. “You don’t have to do that.”

His lips curved into a self deprecating smile. “I think I do though. I haven’t been honest with you and…while that’s not exactly unique to you, the regret I have is. So you see, it really is a selfish action. If I’m to be free of this, I need to know for certain you understand that what I say next is the truth…all of it.”

Your mouth opened to protest, but the words caught in your throat. The expression on his face was one you had never seen before. While he did his best to hide under his usual indifferent airs, his eyes gave him away. You’d never seen them so open and unsure.

Slowly, you took the other end, feeling a familiar tingle spread through your fingers.

“Alright,” you said, cautiously. “What’s your favorite color?”

Flashes of red shot across your vision, moonlit skies and a pair of eyes you only just caught to be your own before the image settled on something else entirely.

“Pink,” Astarion blurted.

Your eyebrows shot up as the start of a delighted smile spread across your face.

“And orange,” he amended quickly, “and dark blue and…honestly just the color of the sky at sunrise.” He pouted as if annoyed at the words that escaped his lips, but he shook it off. “Alright, you had your little test run. Give me something harder.”

You considered a moment. It was very tempting to continue on with some more embarrassing questions, but that wasn’t the purpose of all of this. Best to start at the beginning.

“What did you think of me when we first met?” you asked.

He grimaced, guilt evident not just through his averted gaze but the tug of the string between you. “You were a target,” he admitted. “At best a convenient meat shield. You were just so…open, ready to trust. Manipulating you would be easy.”

You took a deep breath, ignoring the stab of pain between your ribs. You should have expected as much. He wasn’t exactly subtle.

“And that’s what you were trying to do the other night, manipulate me?”

“Yes.”

Another stab of guilt, a flash of your own back walking out of a candle lit room as a hand that was not your own reached hopelessly outward.

Your actual jaw clenched. “I don’t need your pity.”

“It’s not pity.”

“Then what?!” you snapped. “Hells bells Astarion, do you even like me?”

“You drive me to acts of insanity,” he said indignantly, raising up the glowing cord around his wrist as proof. “Do you think I’d willing subject myself to days of Gale’s passive aggressive commentary on my personal life for just anyone? Of course I like you. Gods below!”

You stared, unable to deny the waves of exasperation mixed with the sound of your own laughter as heard through another’s ears. Something warm and unfamiliar bloomed in the chest of the body opposite you making your mind spin, as you tried to re-establish the divide.

“Why did you ask me to come to you?” you asked. “What were you hoping to gain?”

Astarion took a deep breath. It was only then you noticed how tightly he was holding the chord linking you.

“I was hoping to get back on track,” he said, slowly. “I had a plan when we met. A nice simple plan. Seduce you, bed you, manipulate your emotions so you’d never turn on me. It was easy…instinctive.”

He met your eyes and for the first time, you felt him fight against the images threatening to breach the gap between you. You caught the barest flashes, memories of half forgotten faces passing by one after another. Shame and vile brushed the edges of your mind, and quickly faded as Astarion regained control.

“But, you seemed immune to my attempts,” he continued. “I could tell you enjoyed my attentions, but you never asked for more. My simple plan that had worked on countless targets, couldn’t get off the ground. And yet, you still gave me blood, protection…trust. I couldn’t understand it. I found myself wanting to know more, to know you. To anticipate what you would ultimately ask in exchange. And then that night, you showed me exactly what it was you desired.”

Something slipped through. You saw yourself in the center of the tavern with darkness surrounding you. A rise of fear entered your heart as you heard your name called from familiar lips. And then, the world shifted, light came back into the world and it was…beautiful.

“I thought I finally understood you,” he said. “A poor repressed urchin who had been hurt one too many times. All that was required was a more gentle touch. I could provide that. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

He paused, his expression softening. “And then you had to do the most inconsiderate thing and surprise me all over again: you asked for my heart, in exchange for yours. I should have been elated. It meant my plan had worked, not the way I intended, but you had fallen for it…for me. The trouble was, I hadn’t accounted for the possibility that I would fall for you.”

You stared, unable to say anything as a well of emotion threatened to burst from you. It was as if someone pulled a bow across your chest, creating a resonating sound that moved in harmony with your very soul.

It was true, all of it.

By some miracle, you wrestled back control over your lungs and tongue.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t know how,” he admitted. “Even if I had, would you have believed me?”

You averted your gaze. It was answer enough.

“It’s alright,” he said, offering a wry smile. “Smart really. I wouldn’t have believed me either.”

You nodded in appreciation, your mind still reeling from everything he had just confessed.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

You frowned, unable to shake a question that had been stirring for some time.

“Do you even want to have sex with me?”

His eyebrows shot into his hairline, his mouth falling open. “I’m standing here baring my soul to you and that’s what you ask?”

“You asked me what I was thinking,” you defended. “Besides, it’s a relevant question.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, but let it go just as quickly with a huff.

“Well?” you prompted.

He made a series of non-commital noises, his mouth half forming words before being wrenched in another direction. The chord between you glowed brighter, twisting just a little deeper into his skin.

“I…don’t really know,” he said, slightly stilted, as if surprised by his own answer. “To be clear, I do find you physically enticing. In that aspect at least, I’d hardly qualify bedding you a chore, but... I spent two centuries using lust and desire to lure people back to him. In that time I developed the habit of taking myself out of my body, looking at it as if it were happening to somebody else. Even in those rare times it could be pleasurable, I still walked away feeling nothing but disgust and loathing. I don’t want those feelings associated with you. At the same time, I can’t help thinking that if we were together, it would be different. But, don’t take that to mean I expect it. Like I said, I don’t even know if I want it. Honestly, before you said it, I didn’t know saying no was an option.”

You took all of that in, your heart clenching as the full weight of what Cazador did to him settled on your mind. Red filed your vision, the sympathetic ache replaced with a rush of fury. He was a dead man. One way or another, you would see Cazador bloodied by the end of all of this. But as quickly as it had come you let the emotion pass. This wasn’t about him. You wouldn’t let him intrude any more on this moment.

“What do you want from me then?” you asked, softly.

To your relief, something familiar and teasing flashed across his face.

“I thought I’d made that obvious.”

With his free hand, he cupped your cheek allowing his thumb to lightly caress your skin. His scarlet eyes burned not with lust, but something warmer and just as desperate.

“You showed me the chorus of your heart. How could anyone look upon that and not desire it? The trouble is, the price you asked. I…I don’t know how to pay it. I don’t know how to be with someone that way, but I’m willing to learn. I want it all. I want you to have it all.”

The connection between you burned hot in your hand, but you couldn’t let it go. It felt so warm, so real. It filled every empty part of you to the point of bursting and still you wanted more. You were insatiable.

Astarion looked just as lost as you, his eyes glazed over with too many emotions for you to name. His body began to tremble. It was becoming too much.

In an instant you pulled his hand away, unwrapping the chord from around his wrist and tossing it aside.

He took a sudden deep breath as if coming up for air after being submerged in deep water.

“Shit,” he cursed, gulping for air. Closing his eyes, he ran a hand down his face as he tried to calm.

Your eyes widened as you caught the angry marks left behind on his wrist.

“Are you alright?”

He blinked hard as if clearing spots from his vision. “I’m fine. Wasn’t expecting that is all.” He turned his focus to you with a bewildered expression. “Does it always feel like that?”

“That’s admittedly a first for me,” you confessed. You reached out your hand, glancing at his injury. “Let me see.”

He followed your gaze frowning, as if surprised to note the welts forming on his wrist. Still he stepped closer allowing you to examine them without protest.

“Does it hurt?” you asked.

He shook his head. “Sort of numb, honestly, tingly.”

You nodded, swallowing hard to keep the rise of guilt and fear at bay. It didn’t help.

“I’m sorry,” you said, quickly.

He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t think a little thing like this is going to scare me off. I meant what I said. I intend to give you your fill.”

“You don’t have to give it all at once,” you promised. “I can be patient when it counts.”

A sly smile turned at his lips. “I almost hope you won’t. You’re not the only one who's starving.”

Heat spread up your neck, something Astarion undoubtedly caught as he gave a low laugh.

“Well, now that we’ve cleared the air, what happens next?” he asked.

“I’m…not sure,” you admitted. “Nobody else has ever given me the chance to figure that out.”

He nodded slowly, before taking a small step back. His head tilted as if to examine you from every angle. A question started to form on your tongue just as the start of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He suddenly straightened before placing a hand on his chest and regarded you with a deep bow.

You grinned, matching him with a curtsy of your own.

He then offered his hand, which you easily took before he pulled you just a little closer. Your other hand found his shoulder while his pressed lightly on your waist. And then you did what was only natural. You danced.

It wasn’t anything elaborate. There was no fire or sparks of magic. You simply moved together to a song of your own imagination. It stirred in your chest, the barest pluck of a melody, but it was yours and his; the promise of a symphony to come.

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#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion bg3 #astarion baldurs gate #asexual #asexual!reader #asexual!tav #bard!tav #baldur's gate iii #astarion x ace!tav #astarion x evie

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saint-siren · 1 month

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catching feelings? no, i wouldn’t do a thing like that, that’s for sure!

summary: a lil drabble about alucard getting all the (mostly) consequenceless comfort sex he deserves

pairing: alucard x gn afab reader

cw: post season 3, unprotected medieval sex, fingering, somnophilia, unresolved feelings, dubcon if you squint, cumming untouched♥️ masturbation, voyeurism

You were a…friend of Alucard’s. A friendly traveler who’d stayed with him a number of days while waiting out a storm and passing through the area. He was glad for the company but you were very forward about how attractive you found him. Not that he saw this as an issue on its own but it was just… he didn’t know if he should entertain your advances or not, he knew he was attracted to you but he figured it best not to open himself up to anything.

At least, that was the plan. Adrian had tried very hard not to let his cock do his character assessments for him but it happened quite naturally anyway. He had a good feeling about you, he justified. He wasn’t looking for what wasn’t there this time either. You were just a casual traveler who happened to enjoy wine, pretty men and sex, he gathered. You didn’t seem to have many more ambitions to your meeting, you didn’t put on some choreographed seduction. You didn’t know anything about magic, couldn’t have given a fuck about the Belmont hold if he paid you and were only vaguely concerned at the shabby state of the castle you’d be sleeping in. It happened easily after seeing these things, his mind (and cock) justified sleeping with you by rattling them through his brain each time he saw you bend to pick up a book or bring your lips to a glass of wine.

He’d heard you touching yourself doors down from him in the guest bedroom. He could tell you were muffling your moans into a pillow but his keen vampiric hearing would not allow him not to be tortured by it. He shuddered, trying to make himself stop listening, go back to reading his book but his cock won out the war against his brain and he drifted down to your room, opening the door.

You looked up, surprised but he could see he was not at all unwelcome. He swallowed hard at the sight of you half dressed and panting, looking over your shoulder at him. You beckoned him into bed and he wasted no time. He had your legs open, nightgown pushed up under your chin in an instant as he played with your wet cunt which to him was now the best sensation on earth. He managed to retain enough restrain to ask “Is that alright?” as he slid the first finger in even knowing from the way your body bowed and twitched that it was definitely more than alright. He waited for your breathless “yes…I’m alright” for him to slip in another finger…and then another, not giving you any time to acclimate. He leaned in to kiss you instinctively and you responded, the two of you not letting up on your tongues slipping into each other mouths, strings of spit dribbling messily across your chins as he fingered you a bit sloppily. It was hard for him to focus hearing your moans, when he heard a sound he liked, he pressed the spot again and again with a fervor that left your body trembling, with you gasping against his kiss.

Suddenly overwhelmed and clearly close to cumming, you pushed yourself from him, desperately panting “wait, wait.” Clearly wanting to savor the moment just a little more before you came, it registered to him that he had only been at this for about three minutes and already you were at the brink. Adrian gathered you back into his arms firmly, arousal making him bold. “It’s alright, just a little more,” he murmured in that lovely voice of his that went straight to your cunt. You whimpered, taking it until you reached the edge again and strained in his arms, desperate to stretch this moment. You were never one to cum quickly, when you touched yourself, you edged for that purpose—for extending that pleasure, perhaps exceeding it depending on how long you denied yourself. Your body flexed and resisted his hold both from how intense the sensation was and because you wanted to feel it for as long as possible but his quick hands always set you back into the position he needed you to be in so that he could reach that spot inside that drove you insane. Each harsh thrust of his fingers whited your vision and you could do nothing to hold back your own orgasm which came so strongly that you clung to Adrian, your hands gripping his arm so tightly you might’ve worried about bruising that pretty pale skin of his, burying your face in his neck and biting him to contain your sounds.

Adrian came untouched at the bite. You didn’t realize it over your own groaning at first but you heard his gasp and moan and felt the roll of his hips against your backside which felt a bit damp. “Gods,” he groaned, his hands gripping you so tightly you knew he was bruising you. It was all so overwhelming, your pleasure, the touch of another person, the smell of your arousal and the vulnerability. He wasn’t thinking about pleasing his own cock then, all he’d be thinking of was the wet, warm, silken squeeze of your cunt and he’d just…been overwhelmed by the time you bit him. It was such a brazen gesture but the pain, combined with the throb of his cock and the pride he felt at making you a twitching mess culminated in him not even realizing he had been steadily making a mess of himself with precum.

“Fuck,” was all you could say when all was done and you two laid in the damp sheets trying to calm down. It was especially intense for Adrian who had gone so long without sex. It was such a comfort, even though he hadn’t gotten to fuck you properly, that he could have cried. So much touch after years of cold was euphoric and a little sad for him.

The next morning, you woke to him eating you out which you welcomed gladly. He was desperately sucking at your clit as he seemed to purr. Then it was finally, properly fucking you when he was sure he could handle more than a few seconds inside you without coming. Then it was having you on every surface possible. It was sex for comfort on a ridiculous scale. It was so indescribably good to have someone in the castle that was usually full of trauma and good memories turned tragic because of how badly they held up. Whenever he felt lonely, he was on his knees, whenever he was overwhelmed by the sheer scale of what his life had become so quickly, he was fucking you into the bed so hard part of it broke and left it lopsided.

Though, finally, the stormy weather cleared and it was safe for you to move on and you made it clear you did intend to move on which he tried very hard to respect instead of distracting you for another few days with sex. He realized when you were gone that he’d quickly have become addicted to fucking you if you stayed, the castle was filled with unquiet ghosts and he never knew just how much comfort he could take in sex. He would have buried his cock inside you every time some horridly depressing thought came to mind and he’d never deal with anything. That was why it was for the better you were only passing through, you were just too addictive for a person seeking comfort.

You did double back to the castle every once in a blue moon, though. For which he was immensely grateful. Your sparing presence was a healthy enough balance, he figured. It was hard to think logically when he had his mouth on you, honestly. He was grateful to you, for not giving him the chance to fall in love with you, to need more than you were willing to give. But honestly, sometimes, in the quiet of night as he heard the soft whistle of the wind blowing through the castle, he did wish you’d let him know you better. He wished you’d be more than friendly.

But it was all foolishness and loneliness talking. This set up was for the better. He could totally just have casual sex and spend time with you when you were in the area and mend your clothes when they got ripped and…cook your favorite dessert which he had to go to several villages to procure the ingredients for and…fill your satchel with food, medicine and a map and…ask about the family members you were visiting all without making too much of it. Totally.

#alucard tepes x reader #alucard x reader #castlevania x reader #adrian tepes x reader #alucard castlevania x reader

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mayasaura · 1 year

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One of my biggest hopes for Alecto is that Harrow has a minute of going full Carrie revenge insane upon finding out what they did to Gideon’s body. Like. Throughout Canaan House and especially in the AUs, we get the sense of Harrow having a deep desire to protect Gideon’s body even if it is in her own solitary goth nun way. She wants Gideon to put more consideration into the danger of avulsion before agreeing. She tells her afterward not to price her life so cheaply. She makes Cam and Pal check on her multiple times. She leaves her bread in a drawer. She’s fully on board to throw Camilla towards possible death in the interest of keeping Gideon safe. And then when she finally sees her in the coffee AU her description is just so soft and loving even when she’s about to pass out because she saw her arms, and continues that way until the end of the book. When Ianthe thinks it’s Harrow in Nona she’s surprised she isn’t violently storming the compound to recover Gideon’s body. Anyway she should find out how BOE and Jod treated her body and go on a tiny insane revenge spree. As a treat.

You are SO fucking right. Deep down inside Harrow is that one gif of the girl holding puppies and crying because she can't protect them, only the puppies are a butch lesbian determined to throw herself into a meat grinder.

I think Harrow might be a little grateful for the unbreakable bones and indestructable skin part of Jod's deal re: Gideon—she may have done that herself in Canaan House, if she'd known how—but the rest of it? The gaping wounds, the leaving her dead? Kill Bill sirens. She has been trying so hard to protect and preserve Gideon, to give Gideon a life, and when Gideon's own father has the chance to restore her he just slaps her together with crazy glue and calls it fine? That is not fine.

If she ever finds out how Gideon's corpse was being treated while her murderer lay in state on a bed of flowers... Man, I would not want to be in the room where that happened.

It would be so cathartic to see her tear into John over his part of it. Gideon already went apeshit on him for how he treated Harrow, so it's only fair Harrow gets to have her go. It's equality!! If We Suffer could somehow be there to be held accountable, too, so much the better.

And after that, what I really really want to see is Harrow turning the soft and loving vibe from the Baristar AU on the real Gideon, and channeling that protective fury toward protecting or restoring Gideon. I know it's probably not going to be exactly how it happens, what with everything else going on, but that sleeping beauty fakeout has me hungry to see Harrow try to ride in and rescue her prince.

In abscence of her body, Harrow's soul dreamed of Gideon's eyes; and in abscence of her soul, Harrow's body dreamed of Gideon's hands. If we don't get to see some pay off when she has those hands to hold again, I'm gonna have to chew my own fucking leg off.

#the locked tomb #gideon nav #kiriona gaia #ntn spoilers #nona the ninth #alecto speculation #atn wishlist #I'm pining for gideon almost as bad as harrow pls tamsyn pls let harrow protect her girl like she's been trying to since the beginning #sorry it took so long to reply to this. things happen so much

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lixxpix · 3 months

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happiness looks good on you- lee felix

summary: you love felix, but he doesn't love you back.

warnings: sad ending, angst!

author's notes: hi everyone<3 this is my first fic, kinda wrote this at like 3am on a whim instead of sleeping but like😭 idk why i made this so sad (is this a sign im depressed or something) but hope u enjoy!! please to comment ur user if u want to be tagged in this or my future posts<3

"happiness looks good on you."

raging storms and unshed tears.

"happiness looks good on you."

heartbreak and rainy days.

"hurry up lix, we're going to be late," you complained, brow furrowed as you stuck your bottom lip out in a pout.

"if you really want to go to school that early just walk there yourself." felix taunted, knowing you were scared to walk alone. he was your long-term best friend, inseparable since kindergarten 'til today.

the two of you argued and bickered on the way to school, throwing insults at each other. by the time the both of you had gotten to school, you were both given a scolding and told to sit down. you glared at him as you were being scolded while he just snickered.

the audacity of this man, honestly .

by the time class had finished, you had cooled down, just like felix knew you would. otherwise, he could just stick out his bottom lip while you huffed and pretended to be mad.

"y/n!" he gasped, clutching at your arm, "areum just looked at me!"

he squealed, like a little kid at the toy shop, over his long time crush.

if only you looked at me in that way.

because i do.

"nah, she probably was just looking at someone else." you lied through your teeth, feeling your heart sink.

"hey, stop being mean!! she clearly looked at me," he pouted.

you sighed.

i've loved you for years and you've never noticed.

"well just confess to her already then."

it was painful watching your own crush and best friend fall for someone else, someone that wasn't you.

you wished, rather selfishly, that areum would reject him. then you could be the shoulder he would cry on. not her. but honestly, you couldn't bring yourself to hate her. what was to hate? she was pretty, got good marks, and was friendly and easygoing. not to say you yourself weren't pretty, but you just weren't as pretty and hardworking as her.

and you weren't the one he wanted.

maybe the pain would end if they just ended up together and you were out of the picture. it was obvious she liked him too.

"you really think i should? but what if i get rejected..."

you're so blind but i still love you.

"yes, how many times do i have to say this, she likes you. it's obvious." you rolled your eyes.

"should i just confess tomorrow? better late than never..." he trailed off, worrying at his bottom lip with his teeth.

gods you look so cute when you do that.

"yeah. get her some flowers and write her a note."

why were you breaking your own heart? you didn't know why. maybe you just wanted to end your own heartbreak.

"good luck with that, anyways i need to go to s house for a project." you actually didn't, but you would do anything to just escape from this.

"why~~are you really just going to leave me alone to plan my big confession by myself," he whined.

"sorry lix, but you'll figure it out." ruffling his hair, you walked out the classroom.

you did, in fact, go home. then sat on your bed and cried until you couldn't physically squeeze any more tears out of you. so this was what heartbreak felt like. you had known him since the both of you were ten. you had have multiple crushes here and there, but they were just passing, fleeting moments, nothing of importance. until him.

you didn't know when you had first started to like him. maybe it was that time in the library where he was helping the librarian stack books. maybe it was that time in the rain where he danced in it for hours.

maybe it was one summer day where your world just exploded in colours.

and now it felt like it was fading back to grey.

the next day, felix came bouncing up to you.

"i got her peonies, do you think she'll like it? i told her to meet me in the garden."

"yeah, she'll definitely like it. i would've too... " you muttered the last part all to yourself, turning away and blinking rapidly as tears threatened to prick your eyes. you offered him a smile of encouragement.

"good luck."

when lunch came, you watched as the nervous australian carried the peonies and went to the garden.

then you watched as they walked in ten minutes later, smiling bashfully and holding hands like schoolchildren in love.

because they were.

you went home, not even bothering to call in sick. you just grabbed your bag and went home. you would deal with the consequences later.

your heart hurt.

you were numb.

you were hollow.

you were crying.

you hated everything.

the next few days were spent at home. you called in sick. felix texted you countless times but you ignored him.

lixie<3

y/nie?

where r u?

she accepted!!!

im so happy>.<

read at 2:03 a.m.

yeah, right. good for you. but what about me?

lixie<3

...hello?

y/n?

can u please respond...

im worried...

what happened???

why didn't you come to school today??

read at 3:46 p.m.

you turned off your phone then turned over and cried again. you hated this. why did you have to fall for him in the first place?

finally, after four days of missed calls, texts, and school, you had to go back. its not like you had a choice anyways. you missed your parents. they lived overseas though, so you lived alone. but you really couldn't continue living like this for the rest of your life, even if you wanted to.

"y/nie!!!" felix exclaimed, running up to you. "why didn't you respond to my texts? are you okay? it's unlike you..."

"im sorry lix, i was just under the weather. im ok." you offered him a tight lipped smile. "congrats by the way." you closed your locker door and rushed off before he could ask you anything more.

"huh? thats unlike her... why is she acting so weird lately?"

and so you avoided him, as much as you could. you kept your conversations short and brief, not talking to him as much as possible, and even switching seats to sit far away from him. you watched his hurt face the day he walked in and saw you sitting somewhere else, but then cheering up as areum sat next to him. you watched as he laughed and held hands, ate tteokbokki and ramen with her in the cafeteria. that should've been me.

but honestly, it did nothing to fill the felix-sized hole in your heart.

you drifted apart. he barely texted you now, barely said hi to you, barely even saw you in the hallways anymore.

then exams were finished, and graduation started to roll around.

you watched as they attended prom and twirled around on the dance floor giggling.

you watched as they broke up on the doorstep of his dorms, watching as felix's face fell when she dumped him for another guy.

you didn't have the heart to tell him i told you so.

so you busied yourself in your exams, earning a scholarship to your dream university. felix tried reaching out to you several times to rekindle your old friendship, but you would always politely decline, preferring to be detached instead of going through more heartbreak.

you still loved him, but the once burning passion had now been reduced to a soft flicker every now and then, sparking ever so slightly whenever you saw him in the corridors. your own felix-shaped hole in your heart hadn't decreased over the years, but your heart became bigger, expanding so that other people could fit in it. the hole would always be there, but at least there was space for healing.

you turned around in the backseat of your friends' car to see the campus you had once called home fading away into the distance and felix along with it.

goodbye, the wind whispered.

"happiness looks good on you, lix. i hope you make the best of it."

#lee felix x reader #felix x reader #skz x reader #skz #stray kids #gn reader #angst #sad ending #lee felix #high school au #heartbreak #lost love #heartache #stray kids x reader #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x gender neutral reader #stray kids x you

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stupidfuckingwindow · 6 months

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highkey wondering if you’d do any kind of smut where ken is actually a cowboy? 🤠

Campfire // Ken

Notes: Thanks, RDR2, for giving me slight help w the setting. I read too much Arthur Morgan porn. I loved writing this, thank you for requesting it.

Content/warnings: Technically public. Ken jerks off in the woods and has no idea you're watching.

Word count: 833

The morning of December 18th, 1899 was particularly freezing. Snow packed on top of roofs, so tightly pressed together that it became hard; almost so like ice. But the nights and mornings got harder and worse in the north- Way up in the mountains and stuck in some dead little abandoned mining town near a frozen-over lake. Run up here by the law for a robbery turned out to be a set-up was something you had regretted deeply, cold long having seeped past your skin, and powdery snow falling through small cracks in your wooden shelter. The move had brought chaos- Separated you from your gang until you were lost.

The only solace brought to you is the man who'd stumbled upon your camp. Neatly combed blond hair and a pretty, shaved face was Ken- Some little outlaw from some ways east, wanted alive for a few meager thefts and no gang of his own (or, so he'd told you, anyway). You'd seen a couple posters warning folk, his bounty a good 30ish dollars across one to two states. Ken is suspiciously too sweet and naive for an outlaw- Taking everything you told him as gospel. You force your worry down your throat and run with his all too trusting attitude, noting the gun on his hip. But if push comes to shove, you suppose you and Ken will shoot each other and bleed out in the cold if you have to.

He insisted on following you back to your gang in the following days, when the law's frenzy was beginning to die down and before bounty hunters would start prowling the roads in search of their next payload.

Ken is surprisingly quiet, as his horse trails a little ways back from yours. His curious nature draws his attention to every noise, focus darting all over the place between what few creatures are out and about. He doesn't ask you anything about all the new little things- Ken lets his eyes do all the prying and studying. He watches as the trees change along the way, forests going from the cold-resistant pines to leafless willows and oaks. He gets especially excited when the two of you pass any wild horses, and only then does he ramble on about all the pretty colors and different kinds of species. About how his favorite kinds of horse are the fast race horse species, so he can travel better and see everything.

Over the course of three days, you and Ken are forced to camp together. While you make the fire, Ken sets up the tent with practiced ease, like he'd done this a thousand times over. And he probably has, you think. The heavy storm clouds have you and he anxious, huddling in his small tent together with the heat of the campfire warming the both of you.

He gains confidence once the clouds roll past without rain, climbing out of the tent to better sit by the fire. He sticks a sliver of some big game animal's meat on the end of his knife, holding it close to the flames in order to cook it. Ken offers you a piece, and you take it. Still, despite his kindness, you're suspicious. Worried he might hurt you, and cautious he'll try if you sleep in the same tent as him. You don't say a word to Ken as you lay on your side, back facing him and revolver close by.

But your attention is caught and you're startled awake hours later, in the depths of midnight.

Ken's climbed out of his own sleeping bag, gone. Panic strikes you, seeing as his boots are gone from the tent entrance. Your worry is dampened only slightly by the sight of his horse still being here, but there are still worse dangers in these woods for him to just be alone. As you clamber out of the small sleeping space, you spot tracks in the dirt- Undeniably Ken's trail. The longer you follow his tracks, the more you hear it.

Groans that he probably thinks are quiet. Whines and moans that were probably supposed to be muted or muffled but aren't. And when you finally see him, he's lit by the soft golden glow of his lantern, eyes shut tightly and erection in hand. Ken's mouth hangs open, quietly panting. His strokes are slow and sweet- Methodical as his long fingers squeeze gently at his cock. Ken's bangs fall over his eyes as he hunches over himself. When his eyes do flutter open again, they're fixated on the way his hand moves.

His hips buck against his hand ever so often, palm curling further around his cock. His thumb rubs at the sensitive tip, swiping a bead of pre-cum from the slit to use it as lube. Again, he whines at the feeling. A shuttering breath leaves him, head falling back and hitting the tree he's propped himself up against.

You can't look him in the eye in the morning.

#ryan gosling #ryan gosling x reader #n.sfw.#ken #ken x reader #ken x reader smut #ken barbie #ken smut

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mollymauk-teafleak · 3 months

Text

when we begin again

I wanted to write something for my little huskerdust babies au! So here's some devastating angst!!

Huge thanks to @minky-for-short for being the first to indulge me in this madness and the general encouragement and huge thanks to @hangsters for putting up with me singing these songs on repeat whenever by brain goes into standby

Please reblog and leave a comment over on Ao3!

cw trans angel dust, male presenting pregnancy

“You have to deal with Angel Dust.”

Husk had been hearing that a lot lately. It made him happier than he’d be willing to admit to anyone with working ears.

Well. Anyone apart from Angel Dust himself.

But that surly voice didn’t belong to his man, it was Vaggie who had appeared against his bar, hands braced on it and interrupting the game of poker Husk had been playing against himself. There wasn’t much to do when you were a bartender who’d promised not to drink for the next six months, two weeks and three days. But who was counting?

Husk didn’t look up, rolling the olives he used as chips from one pile to the other, blatantly cheating and willing himself not to notice, “Let me guess, he made Charlie cry again? Or was it Nifty this time? Ah fuck, did he piss off the radio demon…”

He’d rattled them off in order of likelihood but he wouldn’t put any of them past his spider demon lately. Angel Dust had always been an acquired taste with that sugared armor he put on and the sharp tongue underneath, the teasing smirk he faced the afterlife with. Hell, it had been a while before Husk broke under his charms and that was only after seeing them for what they were, pretty decoration on someone who’d been through a lot and chosen his weapons carefully. He was an asshole, smug and bitchy and vulgar, and Husk had learned to love it.

But for someone who’d actively chased chemical imbalance for years, the guy was not handling pregnancy well.

Tired, aching and hormonal, his time lately was mostly spent sulking on the couch, scowling at anyone who came near, firing off cutting remarks that weren’t so funny without the smile and wink to go along with them. There were very few people in the hotel he hadn’t upset, hitting every square on the bingo sheet, losing his shit over the smallest thing until he deserved some kind of special prize for acidity. He’d be sorry when he calmed down, continually brought to tears by his friends’ patience with him, all of them ready to play the whole scene out the next day.

Hence why Husk was asked to deal with him as often as he was, riding on his baby daddy pass. Being the spider demon’s keeper would lose its shine eventually but it hadn’t happened yet and he didn’t see it on the horizon either.

“Well, no more than usual but…” Vaggie continued, her palm still over his winning hand.

Husk sighed, “Look, I know he’s a lot to deal with right now but you can’t blame the guy. He was a bitch with booze, cigarettes and drugs mixed in, now he’s had to drop all three on short notice, topped off with two spider kittens using his organs as a trampoline and turning his brain into soup.”

“No,” Vaggie’s voice shifted from surly to irritated with an edge of worry that shattered Husk’s warm feeling and pulled his eyes off his cards, “No, it’s not like that, Husk.”

“What’s up with him?” he felt his ears pick up, like if he strained enough, he could hear Angel somewhere upstairs.

When he’d come back from the store, laden with sweet treats that made his teeth ache just looking at them and insane combinations Angel’s cravings had been demanding lately, he’d just assumed the sofa was empty because the spider was upstairs, sleeping. But Vaggie’s expression said something different. Guilt settled over Husk like a wet blanket. Why didn’t he go and check on him…

“That’s the thing, we don’t know,” the former angel folded her arms, “He was sitting in the lounge like usual, watching TV, me and Charlie were setting up for today’s lesson and suddenly he just got up and stormed off. Slammed the door and hasn’t left since. Snaps at anyone who comes knocking to go fuck themselves.”

Husk felt the fur across his shoulders lift. Some of that was normal. Some of that gave him the concrete feeling of knowing the next card you turned would blow your hand or knowing that fist was sailing right for your nose.

“Um…guys?” Charlie’s voice had a tremble that made it sound ready to break, “I think I know what upset him.”

The television was blaring when they ran over to where she sat in the lounge but that had a lot to do with the voice of Katie Killjoy, curdled nastily and accompanied by a dangerous lioness smile.

And a grainy, lopsided paparazzi shot of Angel Dust, pupils wide as silver dollars and a grin so loose it was sliding right off his face, a poisonous looking martini in one of his hands, a rolled up note in another.

“Ah fuck…” Husk groaned softly.

“...with the frankly staggering revelation that the bumbling efforts over at the Hazbin Hotel actually work, somewhat, Hell is left with questions. How did such embarrassing methods actually produce results? Is this the first step on the road to ascension? Is this all an elaborate hoax by the Princess of Hell in a bid to sell us on her hotel? All valid questions in the wake of this news! But we here at Vox Media Productions have another to add to the list.”

The photo of Angel Dust was blown up, becoming footage, bleeding into clips from his more violent pornos. Husk doubted he had a heart anymore but something in his chest ached at the sight of a clear downward spiral. He used to watch Angel like this and tell himself he didn’t care, that the kid was none of his concern, an afterlife imploding to the same tune he’d heard a thousand times, living and dead.

But he was long past lying to himself. Now he had no shield against the pain of watching the man he loved drown in front of him, knowing there was a version of himself just in the wings, too damn stubborn and too damn drunk to help him.

“The well known sinner at the center of this shocking story is no stranger to scandal, though he’s far more used to making a profit from it. Angel Dust, star of many award winning pornographic films, is the supposed father-to-be but close, personal friends of the spider himself have raised their concerns.”

Husk could feel the growl running between his teeth like an electric current. He could take a guess at just who’d fed them this story.

“Sinners, ask yourselves, is this really the person who should be in charge of Hell’s very first children? A known drug addict who makes his living from indecency? And, according to insider reports from Porn Studios, an unreliable, temperamental, unstable individual? There have been a lot of very worrying leaks about his on set behavior and, while we were all willing to turn a blind eye before, there are now young lives at stake. Can we really allow this to continue? Vox Media certainly doesn’t think so.”

A dagger flashed out and crashed through the screen, turning the chatter and flashing images into gurgling pops of static and then silence. Vaggie wrenched her weapon free, eyes flaring enough to burn holes in the wall.

“Someone needs to crush that fucking bug,” she spat, “Pin him to a goddamn corkboard.”

“They said it’s their top story, they must have been talking about it all day…” Charlie flickered between forms, horns phasing in and out, tears welling in her eyes, “Angel must have seen it…”

“We knew Valentino would throw a bitch fit over you keeping the kids out of his hands,” Vaggie spun the dagger between her fingers like there might still be something to throw it at, “But getting Vox to do his dirty work? Fucking coward…”

“They can’t…they can’t actually take the babies from him right? Right?” Charlie shook herself, hands twisting in her hair, “No, no, of course not. Because we’ll do something about it! I’ll…I’ll get them to interview me! We’ll run our own piece! Start our own news station?”

“I’m going to talk to him.”

Husk’s voice, oddly calm and empty of anger, brought his friends up short, stalling their fury and their panic. He wrenched his claws out of the furrows he’d dug in the back of the sofa, keeping his breathing steady and even as he took the stairs two at a time.

The more demonic part of him wanted to howl and break things, smash glass and break his claws against the wall. The part of him that had once been an Overlord wanted to track down Valentino and tear the wings off his back, grind him into the ground until he was as small as he’d ever made Angel feel. The human part of him wanted to find the nearest bottle and drain it dry, rob himself of all feeling, blunt the edges of this pain until he didn’t have to deal with it at all.

But Husk ignored all of them. It took a moment but he managed it eventually, shoving them into the back of his mind where they couldn’t take control of his limbs. There was only one thing that he could let matter right now.

Angel Dust wasn’t the only one who was struggling with the change in their afterlives.

The bedroom behind the door was still his own, technically, but he hadn’t thought of it that way in a while. They hadn’t been an item long before pink started bleeding into the otherwise lifeless space, bright clothes actually making use of the wardrobe, make-up left scattered in front of the mirror, Fat Nuggets snoring on Husk’s side of the bed more often than not. Angel Dust still had his room down the hall, Husk knew he got a lot of reassurance out of having his own space (and he had a lot more shit) but his paws brought him here first.

He knocked lightly, pressing his forehead to the door, “Angel? Baby, it’s me.”

There was a very deliberate pause where Husk knew there was a good chance he’d be told to fuck off, a static weight where lightning might strike or it might not. He held his breath, tail whipping anxiously, not praying, he wasn’t fool enough for that, but hoping pretty damn hard.

Eventually, he heard a soft murmur, the sound of fabric moving, “M’here.”

He took that as permission to gently ease the heavy door open. Their room was dark, almost completely, apart from the sickly blue light flooding out of the phone in Angel’s hands. The spider demon was slumped on the bed, angular limbs folded in like someone had taken a rolled up newspaper to him, the only part of him that moved was the thumb scrolling endlessly through some newsfeed. Husk could hear tinny versions of Angel’s exaggerated moans and squeals from any number of pornos, interspersed with canned commentary from the 666 News broadcast. It seemed like Vox wasn’t the only Vee helping Valentino play dirty.

Husk sighed, closing the door behind him and gently clambering onto the bed, though he gave Angel plenty of room, “Baby, maybe you should stop listening to that…”

Angel’s voice was thin and rough, like it had come through a belt sander, “He’s sending me them. Val. Making sure I don’t miss any.”

Husk swallowed back acidic anger, “Block him. You can put it down, Angel, it’s okay…”

“Used to tell yourself that at the roulette table, huh? Just put it down?” Angel flashed him a bitter look.

Husk couldn’t help it, he flinched. Immediately his boyfriend’s anger cracked and collapsed, horror and shame underneath. The phone slipped from his fingers, landing face down and dropping them into darkness. But the pentagram moon showed Husk more than enough, the tears bleeding down Angel’s face, his mouth twisted miserably as it swallowed him under.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”

Husk sighed, holding out his hands, “I know you didn’t, baby, I know. Look, can I touch you? That okay?”

Angel’s two sets of arms seemed to be in disagreement. One set trembled closer to Husk’s, the other hovered over the phone, both pulling against the other and both terrified. Husk found himself doing it again, that thing that wasn’t praying, harder than he’d done over any green-felted table.

The stalemate finally broke and, thank fuck, Husk was the winner. Angel Dust crashed into him with more force than you’d ever think was in that skinny body, clutching him tight enough to hurt, not that Husk could find it in him to care. He felt warm tears soak the fur at the curve of his neck, welcomed them, brought his wings around to shelter the two of them, purred loud and unashamedly, rocked him the way he’d never been rocked himself but it felt right.

“I don’t get it,” the words came waterlogged and painful, “I didn’t ask for them. I didn’t ask for these kids but I’m doing my fucking best and now I have them, all everyone wants to do is take them away from me.”

For a moment, Husk was envious of his lover, two arms didn’t feel like enough to hold him, how was he supposed to compete when the hurt was this big?

“I know,” he rubbed his cheek against Angel’s hair, forgetting to be self conscious of his feline instincts, “It ain’t fair, baby. And…and I need you to know…if it’s too much, if you don’t want to do it, you don’t have to. You have a choice.”

Angel’s breath shuddered, two hands winding from around Husk’s middle, slipping down. He couldn’t see them but he knew where they were going, his own paws met them there. Demons glancing at him in the street would have no idea- well, they would now thanks to the fucking Vees- but Husk spent a good amount of his time staring at Angel Dust. He saw the gentle slope in his stomach, he knew where to press to feel it through the oversized sweatshirt he wore. He threaded his fingers through Angel’s so the two of them cradled it together, this little impossibility, this spark that had fallen through the cracks and somehow landed here in their afterlives.

“I wanna do it,” Angel Dust rasped, “I know it’s dumb and selfish but I can’t help it. I got ditched by my family and this…they feel like a second chance. And I know I don’t deserve it but I can’t let go.”

Husk shook his head gently, shifting so he could rest his forehead against Angel’s, “Listen to me. I don’t know why this happened, I don’t know what asshole is up there above Heaven and Hell and all this mess deciding whose a sinner and whose a saint, whose spunk gets to work and whose don’t. I don’t know why these kids are here but I know there’s only one explanation that makes sense to me.”

Angel sniffled softly, still looking down at their joined hands, “What?”

“You,” Husk breathed, running his thumb over that little knot low inside his lover, “You’re the only person I can think of, in heaven or hell or wherever the fuck else, who’s strong enough to do this. You’ve fought harder than anyone I know to be better than you were. And you’ll keep fighting for our kids, even when assholes like that bitch Val keep throwing punches. I think they’re here because you deserve that second chance, Angel.”

His slitted eyes had adjusted to the darkness, rewarding him with the sight of a small, trembling smile on Angel’s face.

“Well…that means you do too, right?” he whispered.

Husk chuckled softly, “Hell, I already knew I was on the path to redemption. I got you, didn’t I? Must be halfway to a fucking saint.”

Angel’s laugh was a shaky, broken thing but it was the sweetest sound Husk had heard in a long time, a prize he could never have imagined winning. To be trusted so much by someone who, by rights, should never have trusted anyone again, he wouldn’t have traded anything for that.

Angel reached down, fumbling around in the blankets until he found his phone. He held the power button down until the screen went fully dark then tossed it over his shoulder, letting it land in some of the clothes scattered on the floor. He seemed to breathe a little easier after, glowing at the proud grin Husk gave him.

“I love you, baby,” the words still left him quietly, like he was still unsure saying them, they were a trick he hadn’t mastered yet and was terrified to fumble, “You know that, right?”

Angel nods, plucking those words out of the air and clutching them so tight they were tattooed on his palm, “So you keep saying, Whiskers. Though I could stand to hear it a few more times…and I love you too. A whole fucking lot…” his eyes slid over his shoulder where he’d tossed the phone and it’s poisonous chatter, “Enough that it drowns out all that bullshit on most days.”

Husk laid a paw against his cheek, brushing away the tear tracks on his face, “And on the days it doesn't, I’m right here. And soon we’ll have two little brats running around, I hear they’re pretty loud.”

Angel let Husk tumble him gently sideways, their bodies finding a way to comfortably fit together in their nest of blankets, “Not soon enough if you ask me. I could have been just enough of a spider to lay eggs and save myself the hassle but nah, I had to go and fall in love with a mammal…”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Husk smiled crookedly, purring so Angel would feel it as he pillowed his head on his chest, “I’ll make it up to you.”

“Too fucking right you will,” Angel’s gold tooth flashed as he yawned, the sadness draining away and leaving him empty, “Over and over again, in a wide variety of different positions…”

Husk could feel Angel Dust still shaking, even after he drifted asleep. It wasn’t the end of it, he knew that the tide had just gone out. The next months weren’t going to be easy and hell only knew what would happen after that. He’d certainly had better odds in his time.

But Husk knew one thing for certain. He was all in.

#hazbin hotel #huskerdust #hazbin angel dust #hazbin husk #hazbin charlie #hazbin vaggie #huskerdust babies au #please reblog and comment!

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gravehags · 3 months

Text

whatever she wants (whatever you want)

Pairing: Cumulus x f!Reader (x Cirrus, kind of)

Rating: Explicit, 18+ ONLY MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Tags: ghoulette in heat, vibrating dildo, dewdrop is a little shit, cirrus likes to watch, squirting

Words: 2,581

Summary: You really wish there was a manual for this kind of thing.

a/n: wow it only took me 2 months to write something new lol my bad

Tagging: @anamelessfool !

divider by @ghuleh-recs

You are dreaming.

Below you shimmers an expanse of clear blue water as the wind blows through your hair. Your hands thread through the long white mane of the winged horse you are currently sitting astride as you glide through the air. When your steed dips down, allowing her wing to skim along the water’s surface, you feel the cool flecks of water upon your cheeks.

You are completely oblivious to the storm that roils in bed beside you. That is, until, a soft and trembling hand finds its way to your thigh. Slowly, you are pulled from your dream, feeling the warm and wet touch of lips to your shoulder.

“Mmm…hey love,” you murmur, voice rusty. The ghoulette behind you, your brand new girlfriend, whimpers and squeezes your leg. The two of you had only just started to sleep in the same bed after deciding to take your relationship slow and you are slightly stunned at this new wakeup technique.

“Fuck, baby,” Cumulus whines in your ear before swiping her tongue along the length of your neck. It knocks the breath from your lungs and you remain paralyzed on your side, waiting for her next move. Her tail moves beneath the duvet to curl around your thigh, replacing her hand, the spade sliding along the soft inner skin.

“Cumul–” your words are cut off from the way her hand slips under your sleep shirt, fingertips brushing at the underside of your breast. “Cumulus, what are you doing?”

“Need you,” she breathes and your thighs clench together as she thumbs at your nipple. “Need to be filled up. I-I tried taking care of it while you were asleep. Got off three times and everything but,” briefly she takes your earlobe in between her teeth before relinquishing it, “I need more.”

Oh. You had heard about the ghouls having these cycles and Cumulus briefly mentioned it - what she called her heat - in passing. But Satanas, what were you supposed to do? The two of you had barely made it to second base before this. How were you going to give your love what she needed?

Cirrus.

“Lus,” you say, carefully turning to face her. What you see takes your breath away - her pupils are blown, face flushed, and lips bleeding. You briefly entertain the image of her biting at her bottom lip in an attempt to keep quiet as she fucked herself with her own fingers in bed next to you. Now you’re the one blushing and when your tongue runs along your own bottom lip as if to taste what was on hers, Cumulus’ eyes widen and a soft whine leaves her. Fucking hell, you think. Yeah, the two of you wanted to be romantic and take this whole thing slow but you’ve never wanted her more than in this moment.

Focus.

“Lus,” you start again, voice more firm. “I’m going to get Cirrus to help.”

She nods, although you’re not sure if she’s even realizing what you’re saying. Gently, and trying not to touch her and incite anything, you pry yourself from her grip and slide out of bed. Being able to fully see your form - the tattered and soft Ghost shirt you wore to bed last night and the underwear beneath it - causes Cumulus’ breathing to become heavier and you can see her hips flexing forwards underneath the covers.

“Don’t go,” she cries out, looking desperate, “please I need you.”

Your heart clenches.

“I know, love. But I can’t do this on my own okay? I promise I’ll be right back.”

You can’t look at her as you walk to the door and exit her quarters. When you shut the door behind you, you take a heaving breath.

“Oh ho ho, someone’s in for a wild ride,”

To your left, Dewdrop saunters down the hall in his pajama pants carrying a mug of coffee, smirk twisting his face.

“Wha-”

“You stink of her. Thought you two were being all cutesy and Victorian and not seeing each other naked until the wedding night.”

“Ha ha,” you growl, running your hand over your face. “Listen, which room is Cirrus’?”

His eyebrows rocket upwards as he takes a sip of his drink.

“One ghoulette not enough for you?”

“No,” you say emphatically, “I need…help.”

Dew tips his head back and laughs, a couple strands of blonde hair escaping from his bun.

“Oh man you’re really in for it. Down the hall and around the corner, first door on the left. I’ll keep you in my thoughts,” he says, winking as he passes. “Nice bloomers,” he throws over his shoulder before disappearing.

Shithead.

Tugging the hem of your shirt down over your ass, you skitter over to the necessary door and take a deep breath before knocking. Please, please, please, you plead, hands wringing, please open the door.

Satanas, it appears, does answer prayers.

When Cirrus opens the door you choke on your own spit inelegantly. She’s wearing a pair of silky black sleep shorts and a lacy bralette that hides…well…nothing.

“Hey doll,” her voice is low and she reaches up to throw her dark hair over her shoulder and stifle a yawn. “You’re up early.”

“Cumulus is in heat,” you blurt out.

“Oh?” Cirrus’ lips curl into the same grin Dewdrop had but when she sees the clear panic on your face the smile drops. “Oh.”

“She’s…I don’t know what to do. She wants me to…is she in pain?”

Silently, Cirrus ushers you backwards and exits her room, shutting the door behind her. She’s already striding down the hall on long legs and you trail behind her nervously. When she opens the door to Cumulus’ room she nearly doubles over and takes a heaving deep breath.

“Goddamn yeah that’s a heat,” Cirrus exhales, shaking her head. “Lulu? Honey?”

Cumulus makes a sad little noise from the bed and your heart clenches. How the fuck were you going to help her?

“Here,” she peeps. She’s no longer under the covers and no longer wearing anything. Your hand jerks at your side as if you should cover your gaze and when Cirrus sees you flinch, she smiles.

“You two haven’t fucked yet have you?”

Cumulus keens and writhes on the bed, causing your jaw to fall open.

“No. We were…we were taking it slow. But I want to help her. I need to help her, I can’t leave her like this.”

“Good girl,” Cirrus purrs, and you gasp at the gush of wetness that comes out of you. Cirrus’ eyes dart to the juncture of your thighs and she grins. Walking further into the room, she goes over to Cumulus’ nightstand and opens it, rifling through the contents of the drawer. She makes a triumphant noise and slaps a large, a very large dildo with an interesting bulbous hook on the end onto the bed.

“Now where the fuck did she put the remote,” you hear her growl under her breath as she continues to sift through what you now know is Cumulus’ toy drawer. Cumulus groans, and immediately you’re by her side, hand gently on her calf. You knew she was beautiful, fuck, the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen but like this she’s…radiant. Her curves undulate with her movements, breasts bouncing. Between her legs, her white curls are sopping wet as she drips onto the duvet. Your mouth goes dry and suddenly you really wish Cirrus would hurry the fuck up.

“Got it,” Cirrus says a few seconds later and you let out an exhale of relief. “Alright you. Strip.”

Dumbly, you point your finger to your chest and she gives you a look.

“Yes you.”

The eyes of both ghoulettes are on you as you tentatively slip your shirt up and over your head, flinging it to the floor. When you slide your underwear down both Cumulus and Cirrus inhale sharply, with the latter closing her eyes as if to regain her composure.

“Baby you’re beautiful,” Cumulus sighs, fingers cupping her breast and teasing the nipple, hips working in little circles. “So beautiful.”

You blush and look at your feet. This isn’t how you wanted this to go, you wanted to give Cumulus the romance she deserved but. Well. Here you are.

“Sit on the bed for me?” Cirrus says, jerking you back into the present. “And spread your legs.”

You hop on the end of the bed and with some hesitation spread your legs. Cirrus has the toy in her hand and smiles, causing your clit to throb.

“Look at you,” she murmurs, a single clawed finger tracing down your belly and through the curls between your legs. “She’s nice and wet for you Lulu.”

Cumulus lets out something between a giggle and a shriek.

“That’s…that’s my girl,” she breathes, and you don’t have to be looking at her to know she’s beaming. Cirrus, in the meantime, is idly applying lube to the bulbous end of the dildo as she stares between your legs. Finally she reaches down, spreading you apart and taking the rounded end, and presses it against your cunt. You jump at her touch and your jaw hangs as she slowly pushes your end of the dildo in. The thick intrusion has drool pooling in the corners of your mouth.

“Pretty little pussy, too,” Cirrus says with a grin. “Maybe you’ll be nice and share her afterwards.”

“Mmm…yes,” Cumulus practically sings, “would you like that, baby?”

You barely have time to let out an affirmative moan before Cirrus pulls you up and arranges you on your knees in between your lover’s legs. When Cumulus sees the thick length jutting out from you she lets out a euphoric laugh. She looks so…so…divine. So fucking gorgeous. Breaking from Cirrus’ grip you push forwards to slot your lips against Cumulus’. Her hands are in your hair instantly as you lick into her, one hand cupping her inflamed cheek. You don’t even notice as Cirrus settles into a chair in the corner, watching the two of you with narrowed, intrigued eyes. Cumulus pulls you from her lips for a moment and you take the opportunity to latch onto her neck, littering her decolletage with purple bruises. The dildo is stretching you wonderfully as your lips trail down to her breasts.

“Mmm fuck honey, you gonna suck my tits?”

You’ve never heard Cumulus be so vulgar before and you clench around the toy inside you. Rather than answer, you swipe your tongue over her nipple and suckle at the bud while her claws scratch at your scalp. She whines when you pull off one but when you latch onto the other breast, teeth grazing her nipple she’s purring again. Your hips jerk upwards, the tip of the dildo brushing at her entrance and she cries out.

“Need you, need you, need you,” she chants, pulling your face back up to her until your mouths are a breath away. “Need you inside me, fuck, wanna watch you cum.”

“This isn’t about me,” you breathe with a smile, kissing her gently.

“No,” Cirrus says from her corner, causing you to jump. You had forgotten she was even in the room. “It’s not, but that doesn’t mean we’re going to forget about you.”

In her right hand she holds something up.

The remote.

With a flick of her thumb you choke out a whine. The end of the dildo inside of you begins vibrating steadily, reverberating against your clit and suddenly you’re filled with the need to fuck your girlfriend now. Shaking, you pull back onto your knees and spread Cumulus apart, making her keen beneath you, murmuring something over and over you can’t hear. She’s so fucking wet and you can’t bring yourself to tease her any longer. Slowly you fill her, the tension in her body slipping away as you bury yourself to the hilt inside her. You pause with a heavy exhale, hunched over her and hair hanging in your face when the vibrations inside you increase.

“Go on, pretty girl,” Cirrus commands from her throne, “fuck her.”

You nod vigorously, not needing to be told twice as you pull out and slam back into her. Cumulus’ hands are on you, fingers clawing at your hips as you rut into her dripping cunt, driving yourself deeper and deeper every time. Suddenly inspired, you sit back and pick Cumulus’ legs up to place them heavy on your shoulders. Cirrus actually lets out a laugh and claps as you pump into the ghoulette beneath you. To award you for your initiative, Cirrus ratchets up the vibrations to the highest they’ll go and you’re panting as you grip your lover’s ankles. When Cumulus’ moans become pitchy, you know you’ve hit the right spot and a smile cracks your face even as sweat drips down your temples.

“Gonna make you cum,” you say, looking at Cumulus with a cocky grin, “gonna make you fucking soak the sheets.”

Cirrus is saying something to you, something lewd you think, but when the vibrations hit your swollen clit just right you cum with a shout, hips continuing to jerk violently. When Cumulus cums her scream is exaltant, meeting you thrust for thrust as she drenches the bedcovers. You don’t even notice the vibrations have stopped as you continue to push into her until firm hands on your shoulders still you. With something between a sigh and a sob, you pull out and lean back into Cirrus’ embrace, eyes sliding shut.

“Good girl,” she murmurs, pushing your sweaty hair aside to place a kiss on the juncture of your neck and shoulder. “You did so well. Look at her. You both look so beautiful.”

Cumulus is beneath you, looking up at you as if you hung the moon. Weakly, she reaches up to beckon you to her, a beatific expression on her face. Angelic, you would say if you didn’t know any better. Gently, Cirrus reaches around you and eases the dildo out of you before guiding you backwards and off the bed.

“Come on, pet,” Cirrus brings you to the side of the bed and pulls the covers back. Cumulus shifts over and finagles herself under the sheets, welcoming you into her embrace. Her temperature is back to being blissfully cool and she pulls you in.

“How do you feel?” you ask, still slightly out of breath, fingers toying with one of her white curls.

“Better. For now. Thank you, my love.”

Cirrus watches the two of you silently before lightly clearing her throat.

“Rest well, lovebirds,” she says with a smile, leaning down to kiss you on the forehead, then Cumulus before whispering in your ear, “You’re a keeper.”

“Thanks, coach,” you grin sleepily and she briefly scratches at your scalp with fondness.

She slips out the door and the two of you are left to catch your breath. When you sigh contentedly, your girlfriend turns to you.

“You didn’t hear what I said earlier, did you?”

You frown slightly and open your eyes.

“No I…I don’t think so. I was kind of caught up in the uh…moment.”

She giggles and reaches a hand up to trace your features.

“I’ll repeat myself then. I love you.”

She loves you. She loves you.

“You what?” you say stupidly, and she snorts and places her thumb firm on your bottom lip.

“You heard me. Now be a lamb and say it back.”

You don’t need to be told twice. When you dream of the water again, she is with you.

#cumulus x reader x cirrus #cumulus x reader #cumulus x f!reader #cumulus ghoulette #nameless ghoulettes #the band ghost #the band ghost fic #rachel writes

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