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manicpixiefelix · 5 months

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love the hand that feeds you {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

One-Shot for head, heart, hand. but can be read as a stand-alone.

Summary: Everyone's always called you Felix's Dog. Felix has always had a problem with this. You've always wished that he didn't. Oliver's never been much of a cat person anyways.

Need to Know: They/Them. NB!Reader. Oliver's POV. Set after the Summer at Saltburn but with a happy, poly ending. Established Felix/Reader/Oliver. Reader's AGAB/sex is never made explicitly clear so hopefully all of y'all can enjoy.

Warnings: SMUT. Porn with plot. Pet play, obviously. Demeaning language (dog is the main one, obviously), oral, threesome, unprotected sex, d/s dynamics (all three of you go back and forth but there's mostly Dominant!Oliver), teasing, praise kink (and praise kink by proxy), pet names (ha). Felix & Reader being horny puppies who love Oliver Quick (and each other) very much.

A/N: 9494 words. i told my girlfriend about this fic and how long it is and she said 'at that point is it a oneshot or a cry for help' and idk man it's definitely a cry for something 👀

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It starts because Felix likes having his hair played with.

Actually, it starts the week before with you, drunk and giggling at a house party, playing with the chain Oliver's always wearing with more fascination than usual, when you admit that Venetia once bought you a collar. Of course you provide the caveat that it was more to piss Felix off, which it had, and that it had been thrown into the fire before you ever got to wear it. Oliver, who'd been watching Felix playing beer pong across the room, has to take a moment to process what you'd said.

"Wish she didn't make it all weird," you sighed a little forlornly, and you give the chain a faint tug, "I'm such a good dog, everyone says so," then you huffed a faint, flustered laugh, "not everyone. Not you and Fi, you guys are lovely, but sometimes I am a bit like a dog; I'm okay with that."

In the next moment you're humming along to whatever trashy pop is playing, and Oliver's pretty sure you've already forgotten what you'd just said, but even in his own state of inebriation, he can't.

The next day, on one of the many lawns across Oxford's beautiful campus, Oliver's sitting with Felix's head in his lap, fingers running through his hair as you and Felix are brainstorming gifts for Venetia's upcoming birthday. Felix has his eyes closed, enjoying the warm afternoon and the sensation of Oliver's gentle petting, while you're splayed out on the grass beside them both, focusing on your notebook.

Yes, you've always been a good dog, but you'd been well trained; the more Oliver thinks about it, the more he finds himself also drawing comparisons between Felix and an excitable, affectionate, pampered pup himself. But there was potential there, Oliver could see it clear as day.

So he'd started to come up with a plan. A simple plan, thankfully; knowing you both it wouldn't require anything too complicated, it wouldn't be particularly manipulative. At least not maliciously.

A simple, two step plan to show the impossibly beautiful, rich, loving heirs how much he loved and appreciated them for all their qualities, especially the dog-like ones, in certain circumstances. Really it's not even his idea; Felix's whole family had drawn the comparison with you before it had even really occurred to him. He couldn't be blamed for being intrigued about following it to its logical end, and showing you both it's not the negative it usually comes across as. At least, that's how he phrases it in his mind when he's justifying it to himself.

And if he thinks you and Felix would both look pretty in a collar, well that's just a perk he keeps to himself.

The first step is submission.

All three of you fluctuated between dominance and submission on any given day, an enthusiastic ebb and flow of control amongst the three of you, in every combination imaginable. Except Felix seems unable to fully commit himself to submitting to Oliver alone; oh he plays along without hesitation, will get on his knees for Oliver at the slightest firm tone, but he always seems more thrilled knowing your hand is on his metaphorical leash.

So Oliver takes his time figuring out what exactly will make Felix long for Oliver's hand on his throat. The solution is shockingly simple.

Praise.

It couldn't be just any praise. He'd lived his life hearing sweet words about how good he looks, or how lovely he was, it had to be deeper than that. Praise only you or Oliver could give, praise that he craved to hear, praise for the parts of himself he quietly put effort into.

Praise for being helpful, for being diligent, for being caring and genuinely thoughtful to the two of you, for being good.

"God, you're so good to me, Felix," Oliver groans in the bathroom of a house party, back pressed against the door while Felix was on his knees, Oliver's cock in his mouth. When Oliver looks down, sees Felix with a faint blush on his cheeks that's far sweeter than the rest of the debauchery of their situation, Oliver cards a hand through his hair, giving him a look that radiated just as much love as he felt for the man himself, "always so fuckin' good to me," he murmurs this time.

Felix, now bright red, all kinds of flustered, pulls back for half a second, unable to fight back a smile as he swears under his breath, but Oliver's hand in his hair tightens. Felix eyes flutter closed as Oliver, tone on his voice like a warning, tells Felix that he didn't say stop.

And Felix seems more than delighted to obey, to be as good to Oliver as he'd just been deemed.

Praise like this always made Felix all smitten and obedient and eager to please. Of course Oliver had always been quick to praise Felix, but this was different, was concentrated and specific. Once Oliver had started with these efforts, Felix seemed to grow more relaxed and eager to let Oliver become dominant over him when the mood struck him, even without the specific praise. Though the praise always helped.

The second step is acceptance.

Considering everything that had happened at Saltburn - the voyeuristic games you'd played with Oliver, the adventurous ways and places in which you and Felix would fuck, the handjob you'd given him after you caught him drinking the bath water that Felix had gotten off into that ended with you also managing to come untouched while Oliver moaned Felix's name in your ear, just to name a few - Oliver knew your sex lives would be more than a little kinky before he even officially joined this relationship. He was not disappointed.

Both you and Felix seemed more than willing to try anything, though Oliver was delighted to discover just how much you'd both already done, and were more than eager to do again.

All this to say that pet play was barely a step removed from roleplay, so he shouldn't have been surprised that you jump at the chance. At first it stays between you and Oliver, for obvious reasons that have everything to do with Felix's hangups about the derogatory way other people had often called you a dog. But when Oliver calls you 'pretty pup' for the first time, you react just the same way Felix does when praised.

Flustered. Bashful. Obedient.

Except Oliver quickly learns that you react far stronger than Felix. It seems not only were you telling the truth about being okay with the title, simply hearing it said so lovingly by Oliver, even in the most innocent situations, was enough to turn you on. It was validation you so desperately wanted, craved, your efforts and constant place by their side acknowledged and appreciated. There are times even when you're in control where you demand praise, and the words slip out.

"You're a good dog," Oliver gasps out, your legs over his shoulders, his head between your thighs. A pleased noises rumbles from somewhere in your chest and you laugh low and heady.

"You're fucking lucky to have a dog like me, Oliver Quick," comes out all lazy and confident, but his nose of agreement isn't enough for you, clearly, as your thighs momentarily tighten around him, trapping him, and he feels one of your heels press insistently against his back, "aren't you lucky," you say pointedly, warning in your voice, "to have such a good dog?" Echoing your words in agreement, they come out sounding like a breathless prayer, one he's eager to chant to see the heady, powerful smile you wear when you hear it.

Fuck he feels dizzy with lust in this moment, desperate to devour you, have his mouth on you, like his life depends on it, hoping you'll grant him the chance to fuck you - there's something about you in control that will always drive Oliver utterly mad. Actually, no matter the situation or who's in control, knowing you and Felix continue to want him, love him, choose him to share these moments with... sometimes he still can't believe he got here in the end.

He never thought he'd hear you beg, let alone for him. It's like fucking music.

When he's got you like this, under him, desperate, eager to please, mind a messy haze caught up in this fantasy being played out with you as his perfect pup - so good, so loyal, fuck you're precious, pet - where he can do or say practically anything to you, where you want him to.

"Fuck I love how pathetic you sound, pet," he mumbled into your ear, pressed against you, thrusting slow and deep, "can't even form a proper thought, can you?" He teases. Your hips stutter up into his in an inconsistent rhythm, desperate. Chiding you for it, he sits back, even as a disappointed mewl escapes you. As if moving out of instinct, you reach out, as if to try and pull him back in, and your fingers catch on the chain he still wears around his neck.

"Drop it," he orders immediately, to which you let go as if the metal had burned you. However, Oliver can feel you clench around his cock, hips rolling, pressing close to him, instinctively, "good dog," he purred, pleased, deciding to reward you by finally fucking you with intent.

So it's not you who still has to come to accept this concept. But Oliver's fairly confident you will be the main reason when Felix does come to accept it. In fact, he doesn't even bring the concept up to Felix himself; he knows you well enough that it will only be a matter of time.

It doesn't take long.

One night at the club, all three of you drunk and feeling indulgent under the lights and haze, you hear a resentful -

"Felix really can't go anywhere without his dog -"

You have to hold Felix back from searching for the girl who said it to start shouting at her, assuring him it's fine, but Oliver then has to drag you both of the dancefloor when you start unexpectedly arguing with each other. He actually genuinely can't pick exactly what the argument is about until he's got you both in one of the marginally quieter side rooms, you and Felix still arguing animatedly -

"- shouldn't even be talking about you like that, they don't even know you -" Felix snapped, while you stepped up into his space, having him in the chest.

"When the fuck have I ever cared what anyone but you thinks of me?!"

"I don't think of you as my dog!"

"How many times do I have to say that I don't mind being called your dog before you figure out that maybe I want you to call me that?!" You glare up at him, watching the confusion and mixed emotions about the idea pass over his face in rapid succession, "I'm getting sick of you taking issue with the title, and refusing to understand why I don't; am I not every fucking thing the perfect dog is to you? I am loyal," with each descriptor you gave an instant push against his chest, as if to punctuate each point, "diligent, protective, you know I'd follow you to hell and back, it makes me happy to make you happy, and yes, Felix, just like a dog, I can be obedient," Felix's gaze is shocked as you lay it all out before him. Your voice lowers, Oliver can barely hear you over the music in the next room, "but unlike a dog, I was not trained to love you, to stick by you like I do; that is a choice I made. That is a choice I continue to make happily every single day of my life. Every other asshole who calls me a dog can see it, most of them are fucking jealous because I am the one you choose to keep by your side. Why would I ever take issue with being called that? What do I have to be jealous of? I am the dog, Felix Catton, and I am yours."

It's... reductive, Oliver thinks, but it has to be to get your point across, so he keeps that to himself. He knows all too well how old this sore spot is between you two, far older than his place in your relationship. Perhaps if things hadn't worked out quite so well for him, or if he weren't so secure in his relationship with you both, perhaps he'd worry, be jealous of how you're speaking once more like you and Felix only have each other. But her knows you're not, knows that you're speaking to the version of Felix who can't let go of his discomfort at the title's implications. Part of Felix would always listen to you above all others, even Oliver, but Oliver himself had in part fallen for the way you two loved each other, he lives seeing that connection still strong, bright and alive, and knowing that you've both still chosen to love him too.

Felix, a few feet away, looks suddenly conflicted, almost upset as he tries to process and reconcile your words. However, when Felix can't seem to give a proper reaction, a look of disappointment crosses over your face, and you turn sharply, stalking from the room, from the club entirely.

"It still feels demeaning to them," Felix has been sulking the entire walk back to campus, he and Oliver having left not too long after you. Oliver bites his tongue on the fact that he knows you get off on being demeaned in the right circumstances; Felix is off course aware of this, but not the true extent. Instead, all Oliver offers is a non-committal hum. Felix pouts, still mostly talking to himself, "'s rude," he mumbled, "'s a mean thing to call someone; dog..." Though it sounds almost like a question.

"So you'd be mad if someone called you Y/N's dog?" Oliver says with a surprising amount of casualness considering he has no idea where his boldness came from. Beside him, Felix goes very quiet. Oliver pointedly doesn't look at him.

"That's different," Felix finally managed after several long, strained moments in which he'd thoroughly considered Oliver's words. Except Felix hasn't managed to sound nearly as casual as Oliver, the poor boy sounds rather abashed at the thought, though he still tries to play it off, albeit unsuccessfully, "Ollie, that's- that's completely different."

"How's it different?" Oliver needles him subtly, still giving Felix a modicum of privacy from his ever watchful eyes.

"Because it is," Felix insists, before blurring out - "because it's never happened!"

When Oliver finally looks over at Felix, he keeps his expression just on the positive side of neutral, only to be met with the sight of Felix, wide eyed, and faintly flush. Oliver blinks.

"But you are," he says easily. Felix's lips press into a thin line, face turning steadily darker with his blush as he finally stops walking. Oliver can read the 'the fuck do you mean by that?' all across Felix's flustered, intoxicated features before the man can even open his mouth to ask, so Oliver stops walking too, elaborating without hesitation, "if we're going by Y/N's metrics for what a good dog is, aren't you one too?"

This conversation was completely unexpected for Oliver too, despite how he was the one who pushed it in this direction. Beautiful, expressive Felix is already growing less tense as he turns the thoughts over in his mind. Oliver, eager to help him along on his path to acceptance, reiterates the values you'd laid out in the club -

"Loyal, diligent, protective," he lists easily, "you know you'd follow them anywhere, and do anything to make them happy," he doesn't have to say that Felix can be obedient to you to know they're both thinking it. Instead, Oliver shrugs, "but you're Felix Catton, of course no-ones going to call you a dog."

"What?" Felix's deliberation finally gives way in the face of confusion.

"Everyone knows Y/N loves you, but they don't want to think about you loving Y/N back."

"But I do," Felix's soft voice sounds so hurt by the very idea, "everyone knows I do." Oliver's own expression softens as he steps forward. Felix's brow creases in what can only be described as disappointed confusion.

"I know," he assures smoothly, "that's other people's problem, its not fair on either of you." Oliver's hand is gentle on Felix's shoulder, but Felix is still clearly bothered, even as they start walking again.

"Maybe that's why it bothered you so much," Oliver finally speaks again when they're back on campus. Felix doesn't speak, but does look to Oliver with an expression of clear confusion, "because you didn't like the idea of people thinking Y/N loved you more than you loved them." After a moment, Felix sighs, making a faint, disappointed hum of agreement.

"Did you think that?" Felix asked softly after a moment, "before you really knew us, is that what you thought of us too?" He sounds almost disappointed at the thought. Oliver, however, has to fight back a smile.

"Not even for a fuckin' second," he admits with a sharp laugh, and Felix immediately perks up with intrigue and something almost like relief, though Oliver's tone is amused as he continues, "I honestly couldn't believe no-one else could see it; never seen anyone quite so dedicated to taking care of their dog as Y/N was to looking out for you."

Felix turns bright red once more, but he's wearing that big, bashful grin Oliver's always loved.

"I am, aren't I?" Felix sounds almost giddy at the thought. Oliver feels like there's fireworks going off in his chest.

"Y/N really can't go anywhere without their dog either," Oliver teases, lovingly parroting the words that had been so cruelly overheard at the club. If Felix were any drunker or happier, he probably would have started actually skipping. As it was, however, the two of them approaching Felix's dorm building, he wraps an arm around Oliver's shoulders.

"You know all that stuff they said, all that stuff about being a good dog, you know that's how we feel about you too, Ollie," Felix can clearly tell the minute Oliver's brain short circuits, because he laughs and plants a kiss on Oliver's cheek, "sorry if you're more of a cat person, mate," he teases, as if he hadn't just suddenly rewired something in his boyfriend's brain.

You and Felix. YouAndFelix. Both love him the way a dog loves their owner. It goes beyond even any lewd fantasies he'd had; a year ago he was watching you both through his window, talking and laughing in the afternoon sun, wishing desperately that he could work up the courage to talk to either of you, befriend you.

But you and Felix - YouAndFelix, together, individually, in every single way Oliver can conceive the idea of you - both love him. Our Ollie, the way he's heard spoken so lovingly, sounds so much sweeter than he'd ever even imagined.

"You're both very sweet to me," Oliver hears himself mumble as he and Felix finally find themselves outside of Felix's door. Everything feels like it's spinning, in a way that has nothing to do with the alcohol, and everything to do with the way Felix is smiling at him. Instead of answering, though Oliver's sure there's half a dozen teasing or sappy comments trapped in the tip of Felix's tongue, he kisses him instead. Felix always seemed to know exactly when Oliver was overwhelmed with their shared reality, and always took his time to admire that look in Oliver's eyes. Now was no different.

He's always thought Oliver was so strange, so queer, so different from everyone else in his life, and so clearly loved him for it.

Felix finally is the one to break the moment, knocking lightly on the door, knowing you well enough to anticipate where you'd be despite your earlier anger. As if on cue, you sighed heavily on the other side of the door, before inviting them in.

While Felix barely gives you time to react where you're in your pyjamas, sitting in his bed in the lamp light, not even kicking off his shoes before he throws himself into your lap, wrapping his arm around your waist as he pressed his face against your thigh, Oliver hovers by the door.

"Hi, sorry, hi, love you," escapes Felix in a rush. Despite your conflicted expression, the way your hand comes to rest on his head, carding through his hair is automatic. It's an endearing, amusing sight to Oliver, considering the night that had just passed. He knows you're looking at him, questioning gaze searching for some kind of explanation for Felix's change of behaviour, but Oliver lets himself linger a few moments longer on watching Felix's almost childishly clingy behaviour.

He struggles to kick off his shoes for a moment before he finally managed, and hitch a leg up, over both of yours, still in his jeans and jacket but refusing to be anything but wrapped up in you.

"I'm not staying," is what Oliver finally says, despite the gentle affection in his voice. You frown faintly, but still seem more confused than upset, "I think you two need to talk," he explains. Despite the way your mouth flattens into a thin line, you're still gently petting Felix's hair. Still, Oliver steels himself, giving you a strange little smile, "you're a good dog, Y/N," he says pointedly. This seems to surprise you, but not as much as Felix's sitting echo.

"Such a good dog," he agrees with a fond sigh, half muffled against you. Immediately your confusion, your concern drops in favour of sweet, hopeful shock. But Oliver continues before he shuts the door, smile growing into a grin.

"So are you, Felix," and Felix's head shoots up so he can level a bright, sunny smile over his shoulder at Oliver. Christ, Oliver can practically see his tail wagging.

"Love you, Ollie," Felix beams cheerfully. While Oliver echoes the sentiment back at you both as he closes the door, you can't seem to look away from Felix.

Something warm and pleased and satisfied curls itself comfortably in Oliver's chest on the brief walk back to his own room. It goes beyond any selfish, sexual desires he's had, not that there wasn't an element of that, of course, but he can't stop thinking about the joy in Felix's expression, or the way you'd disbelieving smile you'd been wearing when Oliver had closed the door. An old ache beginning to heal.

The change is subtle at first. At least, from the outside.

After that fateful summer, the three of you had made no secret of your relationship. Felix had always been tactile and clingy and prone to shows of affection, you had always made a point to make Oliver feel included and welcome and like you craved his company, while Oliver himself had never made any secret of whose attention and contact he preferred in any group setting. So he's sure, to their friends, the three of you seem to be the same as you've always been.

Farleigh had once scoffed at the pub that the three of you were insufferably gross, and while the rest of the group at the table had agreed, it had been more teasing than malicious; on one side of Oliver, you'd pressed your laughter into his shoulder, while Felix had throw his arm around Oliver and chided Farleigh not to be jealous, wearing a wide, easy smile.

Oliver and Farleigh still may not exactly see eye to eye, but things had gotten easier between them. Across the table, Farleigh met Oliver's bashful gaze and though he'd rolled his eyes, though he seemed exasperated by all three of you, there was warmth in his eyes. He may not love Oliver, but he still loved you and Felix; baby steps.

So all that to say that at first the change is so subtle that even the ever-watchful Farleigh, who knows you and Felix better than any of your other friends, doesn't even notice.

But oh, Oliver feels the change right away.

He honestly thought the three of you weren't able to get closer, but he's never been more thrilled to be wrong. Never afraid or jealous of each other living your own lives, it just seemed that when you're around each other, you weren't interested in being seen as an individual. More possessive in the most affectionate way. Always in some kind of obvious contact, arguably too close for the comfort of others, not that any of you cared. Oliver, always shadowed by his beautiful guard dogs.

"Can I wear this?" You ask casually one evening, drinking cheap vodka and juice as you waited for Oliver to get ready to go out. When Oliver turns, half dressed after a shower, he sees you holding one of the chains he always found himself wearing. He doesn't think twice before agreeing, doesn't even think much of the request at the time. The significance is missed on him until the two of you meet up with Felix in the line for the club and he pulls you by the chain, in for a kiss. You're still holding Oliver's hand, fingers linked with his. Reading Felix's kiss for the compliment it is, you grin sharply as you pull back, stepping up beside him in line.

"Thanks, it's Ollie's."

"I know," Felix snorts a laugh, throwing an arm around you as he gives Oliver himself a sly smile, "you look good too, mate, how're you going?" You squeeze Oliver's hand, leaning into him for a moment with a coy smile. Your free hand is playing with his chain around your throat. Like you know exactly where his mind has suddenly gone.

Oliver already knows how this night will end, and it doesn't disappoint.

Neither he nor Felix can seem to leave you or the chain around your neck well enough alone, and you're clearly love it. You let yourself be lead around, let them lavish you with affection in dark corners, wearing a smile that's all teeth when you meet the surprised, scandalised gazes of those who gawked rather than averted their gaze.

In the back of the taxi on the way to campus, you're impossibly affectionate, like an excited puppy as you try and split your attention to your boyfriends either side of you.

"Settle down, love," Felix takes your hand in his, keeping you momentarily still, even as you pout.

"We'll be home soon," Oliver murmurs quietly, trying to act casual as he looks out the window, his hand coming to rest on your thigh. A faint, impatient whine escapes you, but you acquiesce, leaning your head on Felix's shoulder even as a fond laugh rumbles from his chest.

The cabbie has the radio on in the front, pointedly ignoring the three of you. But the music is loud enough that he doesn't hear the soft, approving way Felix mutters in your ear -

"Good dog."

But Oliver hears, feels the way your thighs momentarily clench together, hears the breathless, needy 'fucking hell, Fi' that escapes you. His grin grows wider.

On the walk back to your room - always cleaner than Felix's, and with a bigger, nicer bed than Oliver's - you're quiet, seemingly focusing very hard on staying that way, even as Oliver and Felix are bantering easily either side of you. Hands to yourself - well, metaphorically, Oliver and Felix are both holding one of your hands, Felix, feeling particularly joyful swings your linked hands in wide arcs between you - you listen diligently, and chime in whenever you felt your input was needed. Oliver thinks you're being incredibly endearing, but once the door is closed and the rest of the world is cut off from the three of you, Felix softly asks if you're okay.

Surprise lights up across your face the minute the question is spoken. It hadn't even occurred to you that Felix wouldn't understand your behaviour in this moment; this is far newer to him than it is to you. But then you look to Oliver, almost like you're afraid that he wouldn't understand either.

But he does, of course.

There's a faint thrill that courses through him realising that for what is perhaps the first time since he'd met you, he can read you better than Felix. That Felix was yet to understand how far from reluctant or uncomfortable you were in that moment.

Felix had told you to settle, called you a good dog when you had. So now you were trying your hardest to remain settled, to remain good. How delightfully obedient you were in these moments, in this headspace.

Oliver finally gave you a warm smile, shrugging off his jacket.

"They're being good is all," he says casually, drawing Felix's confused attention as you broke out into a wide smile at the praise. Again, Oliver has a flash, a mental image of a tail wagging with joy behind you.

"I'm being good, I'm being settled," you reiterated pointedly, standing carefully by the foot of the bed. Once more, however, you've started fussing with the chain around your neck. Felix looks back to you, as if he still can't quite grasp the full scope of what's happening, and laughs lightly.

"You're so fucking cute," he grinned, "love, you didn't have to stay settled all the way back here."

"I didn't?" Your eyes go wide with confusion, and you look again to Oliver, as if for confirmation, "but I..."

Oliver can feel his heart beating in his throat. Oh, right, he's the one who's done this before, he's the one who started this all, at least this version of this dynamic. You aren't Felix's dog in this moment, you are his.

"You did good, pet, don't worry" Oliver assures you, soothing you with a gentle tone as he steps towards you and takes your face in his hands, kissing you on the forehead. Wearing a grateful little smile, you regard him lovingly for a few moments, before he steps away and you turn your focus back to Felix. There's a hungry kind of intrigue in his big, brown eyes now as he takes the scene in with newfound understanding.

"You really are a good dog," Felix marvels approvingly. Your whole face lights up at that, stumbling a few steps forwards, as if you hadn't meant to move but needed to be close to him. Nodding furiously in agreement, your fingers fidget like you're trying desperately not to reach for him. Felix steps towards you, his smile growing wider as he does so, "mine- ours?" He corrects, wrapping his arms around you, and finally your resolve breaks.

"Both," you assure in a rushed breath before you're pulling him in, kissing him frantically, as all the longing you'd held back since you'd been told to settle floods through you. Once fidgeting hands now start frantically tugging at clothing, both yours and his, but Felix is matching your energy entirely. Oliver gets hit in the face with your jacket as it's flung across the room but neither you nor Felix notices. In his enthusiastic haste several of the buttons on your nice, expensive shirt are ripped off, pinging around the room.

Not that Oliver actually minds.

Still in his jeans, he leans his hip against your desk and watches for a few long moments with both a lewd appreciation, and amusement. Perhaps another day, or when it was just the two of you, Felix would invest himself properly in a version of this fantasy where you truly are his dog. Tonight, however, Oliver sees opportunity in the obvious, messy, needy way Felix is pawing at you. An opportunity for his plan to finally be realised, and he's not letting it pass him by.

When you fall back on the bed, Felix braced over you, your hand finding his fly while the two of you still haven't stopped to really breathe, Oliver sticks two fingers in his mouth to let out a sharp whistle.

Immediately there's silence, the attention of both of you having immediately snapped to Oliver. Shaking his head with faux exasperation, Oliver sighs loudly, as if terribly put upon.

"Can't take you two anywhere," he tsked, crossing his arms over his chest, "pair of naughty fuckin' puppies, you can't leave each other alone."

Felix blinks quickly, as if caught of guard by the shift in tension, the dynamic.

"Ollie, what are you -"

"Ollie, don't be mean, Fi's the best dog, take that back!" You chided despite your wide grin.

"Is he now?" Oliver asks archly, smirking at you both. Felix isn't quite looking at him, expression drawn and thoughtful as he processed this change, turned it over in his mind. Slowly, he looks down at you, at your soft, warm smile. A silent conversation between you both, one of many that Oliver will only ever be able to guess at, and you close your eyes as you sit up enough to press your forehead to Felix's.

Felix visibly relaxed, which you must feel judging by the way you grin.

"It's fun, I promise," your whisper, though in the cool, quiet night, Oliver can still hear it clearly.

"But he called me naughty, I can't believe it," Felix whined playfully, causing you to laugh as the two of you sank back down on the bed. Felix tucked himself up beside you, face half hidden where he was pressing his lips to your shoulder to hide his little smile, "you're so mean to me, Ollie." It sounded as though he was pouting, but his eyes betrayed him, nervous and tentative to be adapting and playing along with the bit, but clearly more than a little excited too. There's also something tearing, almost challenging about the way Felix was running his fingertips up and down the side of your chest.

"You are being naughty," Oliver finally pushes off of the desk, sauntering over to the bed, "both of you acting like I didn't exist."

"Can you blame me?" You actually giggled, sounding downright gleeful, "look at who we get to play with!" Felix flushed at that, pressing his bashful smile against your shoulder. Oliver finds himself really quite taken with how you've chosen to adapt to having Felix by your side in this fantasy.

"If I can't blame you," Oliver says with faint notes of faux warning in his voice as he sits by you both on the bed, "are you saying I should blame Felix? Is our new pet a bad influence." You stumble over your words for moment, searching for a denial, but Felix's head shoots up at that, his eyes wide as he props himself up on the bed beside you.

"Hey, I'm a good influence! I'm good!" He insists, the words coming to him so automatically that it seems to startle even him before he properly focuses back on Oliver's fond amusement. Felix grins sheepishly at his own enthusiasm, ducking his head to look instead at you as he reiterated with a soft giggle, "I'm good."

"I think you're very good," there's love on your tongue, in your eyes as you gaze up at him. Then, in the next moment, you wriggle yourself over to rest your head against Oliver's thighs, gazing up at him with a pout, "come on, Ollie, don't be mean," you practically whined, while Felix himself half draped himself across your middle, his head resting on your belly as he turned his full attention and hopeful brown eyes upon your boyfriend. It was far more convincing than Oliver had been expecting, and he actually feels his hard resolve beginning to falter under the combined force of both your longing gazes.

"We're sorry for neglecting you," you add sweetly, expression earnest as your fingers begin to card through Felix's hair. For a moment, Oliver watches the way Felix's eyes fall closed, leaning into the sensation.

"Can we make it up to you?" Despite Felix's soft voice, his smile was already all kinds of pleased and contented, "we're good at that," he insists. God, Oliver knows all too well that you both are; fucking hell, part of him may never believe this isn't a dream. Except he knows his definitely not dreaming when he feels the delicate touch of your free hand on his knee, moving higher - or as high as you're able given the awkward angle your arm is at.

"Play with us, let us make it up to you," giving Oliver thigh a squeeze you grinned up at him. Without giving him a moment to respond, however, you made a tsk noise in the back of your throat, "you're so overdressed. Fi -" you tap Felix's head gently to get his attention once more, and Felix's eyes open, alight and at attention, "he's so overdressed, don't you think?" Immediately Felix is sitting up, agreeing.

"Think we should help him with that," Felix says frankly, wearing a pleased little grin like he's excited to be helpful. All over-eager and enthusiastic, both you and Felix are suddenly all over Oliver, working together to get him out of his jeans before he can even wonder where he'd lost control of the situation.

Playfully victorious, you're peppering Oliver's face with excited kisses as Felix is kneeling by the bed, tugging the now free jeans down his thighs. Despite the chaos of it all, Oliver's laughing loud and bright, trying his best to get his arms around you to still some of the kinetic love you're showering him with.

"Come on, Ollie," Felix, however, gets caught up halfway through his own job, and presses a kiss to his knee, hands coming to rest, flat and warm on Oliver's thighs, "how'd you expect to get off with those on?" But he sounds so light and joyful; Oliver's heart is fucking singing in this moment.

"Oi, sit," Oliver tries to order between his own laughter and your lips on his every few moments. It takes him another second to claw back some of his composure, "both of you, sit," at least this time you both listen, despite him still radiating breathless amusement.

Felix looks to you for a moment, watches the way you settle yourself, cross-legged and hands in your lap as you fought back a smile, and sits back on his heels, wearing a sheepish grin of his own as he looks back to Oliver. Oliver has to take a moment to compose himself, barely restraining his own laughter, before he kick his pants off from around his ankles. Felix takes the opportunity to then lean in and rest his chin on Oliver's knee, wide, affectionate grin on his face that Oliver practically melts at. He can't help himself -

"Who's a good boy?" He teases Felix, reaching over to scratch at Felix's scalp lightly. Again, Felix eyes close at his nose scrunches with a strange little smile.

"If it's not me I'm actually going to be so upset," he mutters, sounding almost embarrassed by the thought. It takes a moment for his words to sink, and he followed it with a snort of amusement, before all three of you are laughing in the warm privacy of your bedroom, and this moment.

"Of course it's you," Oliver reassures him, coaxing him up onto the bed, shifting to sit back against the headboard with room for you both on either side. Felix looks far less embarrassed and far more pleased now, leaning in when Oliver coaxes him in for a kiss, "my helpful, good boy," Oliver murmurs against his lips, and Felix lets out a breathless, pleased noise as he wraps an arm around Oliver's neck, kissing him back almost desperately. Oliver would always love how Felix was so wonderfully consistent when it came to his praise kink.

Beside him, he can feel you shift on the bed, and in the next moment, your hand is on his thigh. When he and Felix both look to you, breaking their focus on one another, you've settled yourself by Oliver's thighs. Leaning in, you gently nudge at his cock where it's staining against the material of his boxers with your nose, before proceeding to kiss softly up his shaft through the material. Sing when you reach the head, you sit back a little, giving pause as two of your fingers hooked into the elastic of his waistband. Finally met his gaze, looking up at him through your lashes expectantly, want in your eyes that has Oliver's already quick heartrate thundering in his chest.

"Thought I told you to sit," he says wryly. You wet your lips, hips shifting a little.

"I am sitting," you pointed out, which set Felix off, had him pressing his amused chuckle against Oliver's shoulder. You did, however, remain obediently still. Except for the challenging smile that graced your lips, "wanted to make up for ignoring you."

Felix's laughter, however, had died down at that, and the hand that had been around Oliver was now trailing feather-light down his bare chest, past your own, to wrap around Oliver's aching hard cock, still trapped behind a thin layer of cotton.

"Just gotta say the word," Felix murmurs into his ear. His hand begins to slowly work up and down Oliver's cock. Oliver watches you lean down and press a kiss to the soft skin of his belly, by his hip, just above his waistband, while Felix was pressing languid kisses along his jaw.

"Both so good to me," Oliver groaned, gently pushing at Felix's shoulder, though he takes the hint and joins you by Oliver's thighs.

A moment passes between you both, Felix taking your face in his free hand and pulling you in for an intense kiss that only somehow manages to make Oliver even more painfully turned on than he already was. Both still half dressed, you're both practically overflowing with love for each other and Oliver in this moment. The kiss breaks and youre both grinning foreheads pressed together; Oliver's never been truly able to read the exact things that pass between you in these moments of silent communication, but he thinks he sees 'see, I told you this was fun' in the way you smile.

And as much as he adores this moment, he's pretty sure if someone doesn't actually touch his dick soon he's going to die.

"'s there a reason you're keeping me waiting?" Oliver asks archly; Felix's grin grows wider, while you give him a faintly guilty smile, apologising softly before you pull down his boxers. Finally.

Oliver's hips buck the second your fingers wrap around him, leaning down with intent to -

"Hey!" Felix almost sounds indignant that you'd taken his place, a thought which sends a thrill through Oliver. You look up at this, but the minute you're distracted Felix has bent down to run his tongue along the head of Oliver's cock, tasting the precum beading there before he's taking Oliver into his mouth.

"Fi, that's cheating!" You whined, pouting with your free hand braced against Oliver's thigh - "Ollie, Fi's cheating!" You pouted, to which Felix raised his head to defend himself, gleefully and entirely submersed in this roleplay.

"I'm not cheating," he tried to declare, however you dipped down in an attempt to usurp him. Felix, seemingly anticipating this, refuses to move, instead letting you headbutt him, the two of you in a playful stalemate while you attempted to keep up a consistent rhythm with your hand still on Oliver's cock. Tension, with neither of you backing down, breaks only when one of you - though Oliver's genuinely not sure which - seems to realise the reality of the situation, and how close you both are, and suddenly you're aggressively making out.

Not in Oliver's wildest dreams would he ever have imagined that he could have the two of you fighting over who gets the privilege of going down on him. It's going to take all of his willpower if he wants to last much longer. But he needs to last at least a bit longer, needs to take back control, to make sure this plays out well for both of you too.

So Oliver calls your name, and you and Felix break apart. Your eyes are on Oliver, wide eyed and breathing hard.

"No fighting," he chided, and you wet your lips, sitting back a little as Felix takes this as his victory. Oliver coaxes you up to him, part of him sad to lose the feeling of your talented fingers around him, but Felix is more than capable, and more than makes up for it. Oliver wraps an arm around you, his free hand guiding one of yours to Felix's head as it bobbed up and down between Oliver's thighs, "you're going to help him, you can do that, can't you?" His words are gentle, commanding, and even as you still seem to be playing at sulking, you give a small nod. Felix groans appreciatively as your grip tightens on his hair, which Oliver echoes as he feels it himself.

You're beginning to squirm. Good. He's been utterly thrilled by how tonight has been playing out, but Oliver always enjoys when you finally fall into being desperately obedient. He wants to show Felix how good of a dog you really are.

Oliver pulls you in closer, nose to nose, smirking as the playful fight in you was giving way quickly to pure desire.

"Our good boy, isn't he? Our Felix," Oliver's voice is loud enough for you both to hear; Felix moans around his cock, shifting to get a better angle, to take Oliver deeper, as deep as he can. Your breath catches, pupils blown wide. There was something truly, almost sickeningly fascinating about what he could only describe as your Praise-Kink-By-Proxy; you clearly got off to the way Oliver lusted over Felix, that much was made clear that night in the bathtub at Saltburn, and Oliver could see it in your eyes again now.

"Our Felix," you'd mumbled breathlessly, casting your gaze to him as Oliver lazily trialled kisses down your jaw and throat. Felix doesn't stop, your hand on his head still making sure he keeps a consistent rhythm, but he does look up, does meet your lust-filled gaze, does see how your hips and thigh are shifting. Oliver brings your gaze back to him by tugging at his chain around your throat, and it's all you need to kiss him. He doesn't let it go. Sloppy and passionate, he moans Felix's name into your mouth and you whimper desperately at the sound. His hips are rolling, matching Felix's rhythm as his cockhead presses insistently against the back of his throat, and you're panting and whining and unable to find any real relief -

"Did I say you could touch yourself?" Oliver murmured sharply the minute he feels you reaching for the waistband of your own pants with your free hand. You whimpered, and his grip on the chain around your neck grows tighter. Squeezing your eyes closed as you shook your head, traitorous hand moving to dig your fingernails into your thigh, "are you going to settle down for me?" He whispered, lips brushing yours as you squirmed helplessly.

"This is unfair," you moaned, and Oliver's grip around you grew tighter, "Ollie, please -"

"You fucking love when I'm unfair to you," he hissed with an almost cruel smugness as you gasped, hips beginning to roll and rutt against nothing.

"Ollie, don't be mean," Felix raised his head, hand going still on Oliver's desperately twitching cock, an actual note of warning in his voice. Oliver smirks at him, all lazy, arrogant confidence. He maneuvers you, pulls you back from him to let Felix properly see the way your lip is beginning to tremble with how desperate you were for satisfaction or even just a hint of relief. Still, you tried to press yourself against him, even as your back arched wantonly and your thighs pressed together, shifting in search of friction that was still upsetting absent from where you desired it most.

"You think I'm being too mean right now?" Oliver whispered in your ear; unfortunately for you, Oliver knows all too well how much you love this game. After a moment of hesitation, your gaze locked with Felix's. It's as if you're embarrassed to be seen in this state, the way you'd so willingly let Oliver drive you mad with desire. Averting your gaze from Felix's, you swallow hard.

"No," the single word comes out as a sulky kind of whimper.

"And why's that?" Oliver prompted, adding slyly, "you made Felix worry." He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek.

"He's -" you tired your head back with a desperate groan as Oliver raked the nails of his free hand up your side, "he's always good to me in the end." You pouted, clearly still thinking it was unfair being denied in the moment.

"You promise?" Felix asks firmly, looking Oliver in the eyes now.

"Promise," Oliver smirks back, whispering against your skin that if you're a good for him, he'll let Felix play with you. The desperate noise that escapes you is incredibly telling, and one Oliver knows all too well as the indication that you were on the edge of being incoherent. Good, he loves getting you to this point, and loves even more the way Felix is looking at you right now.

"You're doing so well, Felix, don't keep them waiting," Oliver insisted. At that you reached out once more, hand coming to rest on Felix's head, petting him gently before he allowed you to guide him back down to Oliver's spit-slicked and waiting cock. Oliver's grip on the chain shifts, the metal loose between his fingers as he carefully, delicately, wraps his hand around your throat. Your pleading expression is so deliciously needy when Oliver pulls you back in against him.

"Good dog," he presses the praise against your trembling lips.

It's like a beautiful symphony, better than any wet dream or fantasy he'd ever had, and he hadn't even fucked either of you yet. He moans Felix's name into your mouth when he finally comes undone, his hand resting on yours atop Felix's hair as he takes it all and swallows every last drop.

"So fucking good, Felix," Oliver's breathing hard as he comes down from the euphoric high he'd just experienced, scratching gently at Felix's scalp as he raised his head, pleased grin on his face. When Felix sits up, out of both of your grips, your hand immediately goes between your thighs, desperate to touch yourself but still fighting the urge, trapping it while still making your intent obvious.

But while Oliver is more than satisfied, you, tucked up against him, are all but a mess as he cradled you close.

"Come on, Ollie," Felix climbs over his legs to be by your side. His smile is warm and fond, and when Felix's hand comes to rest on your hip, your soft, whining noises become more audible, "the poor thing deserves a treat."

Oliver feels the way you shiver and tense with anticipation at Felix's words, nose then bumping insistently against Oliver's jaw, keening noises catching in your throat. You were begging in the only way you have left, now that you'd found yourself deep enough in this headspace.

"Look at him," Oliver murmured, sounding almost proud as you turned your desperate, hopeful gaze upon Felix, "he's even being good to you."

Taking it as a blessing, you're immediately scrambling to your knees by Felix, no longer whining, and clearly overjoyed. One hand pulling him in for a kiss, your other was frantically trying to remove your pants.

"Not ignoring you," Felix insisted to Oliver as you'd broken the kiss if only to pitch yourself back on the bed in an effort to wriggle desperately out of your pants, "just -"

"Settle down," Oliver ordered suddenly, and you suddenly went still, ceasing the way you'd been fighting with your pants around your ankles, "help them, Felix," she sighs with fond exasperation. Of course Felix does, but it's like a switch has flipped; he's back on board, a good dog still, just like you. Once your pants are off, Felix is trailing kisses up your legs, much to your clear glee -

"You puppies are so stupid," Oliver shakes his head, affection in his words, "you're lucky you're cute," but still both of you turn to him with a a sad kind of confusion. Oliver tries not to laugh, he really tries, you're both somehow hot and adorable at the same time, "Felix, you're still wearing pants."

Somehow, this seems to surprise both of you, and again you're up 'I can help, I can help, I can help' radiating enthusiastically from you as you make quick work of finally undoing Felix's fly, as you'd attempted to earlier in the evening. The two of you share soft giggles as Felix's hard cock is freed and his pants are tossed to the side, leaving him standing on the floor at the edge of the bed where you're up on your knees, looking up at him. Like this, he still manages to dwarf you, and Oliver watches with an aroused fascination as this moment plays out.

Felix doesn't speak, it's as if he's matching your energy, understanding your headspace, he's confident and even cocky in a way that Oliver doesn't often see from him. He remembers saying 'if you're good, I'll let Felix play with you' and it seemed some primative part of Felix's mind has taken that to heart as he held tight to the chain around your throat, leaning in with an unmistakable huger in his eyes. It has you practically melting, hands on his hips, not daring to stray further without his approval. He doesn't even kiss you, he holds you at bay with his lips inches from yours and a hand firm on your collar, drinking in your desperation. You begin to whimper again, shifting your weight back and forth, hips rocking in anticipation; Oliver's sure he'll be able to see the marks your nails leave on Felix's hips when you finally let go.

Another silent conversation between you both, but so clear, so loud, so simple Oliver can hear it loud and clear. Felix is telling you, in no uncertain terms, that in this moment you are his, and every part of you agrees. Yet Oliver knows with a smug, self satisfaction, that he with one word you would both be by his side. So he'll let you both have this.

A year ago, he would have paid his entire life savings and then some to get to see you two in a moment like this. Already, he's getting hard again; a familiar, voyeuristic thrill runs through him as he drinks you both in, taking his cock in hand.

Felix barely has to tip his head, letting go of your necklace, before you're moving quickly, a moment vague and indecipherable to anyone else is a clear directive for you to turn. It's a flurry of movement after that, of Felix's hands on you, on your hips to pull you close, your lower back to have you bending, face pressed to the mattress. Your ass in the air, presented to him perfectly, he slides into you, drawing unholy noises from you both after so long spent waiting already that night.

Oliver basks in this moment, can only imagine how good you must feel right now, all tight and warm and completely and utterly desperate to be filled. Felix's groan is its own kind of beautiful, finally finding his voice again as absolutely filthy praise spills from his lips. Hips rocking back to meet each of Felix's slow, deep thrusts, your breathing is shaky amid the low, pleased noises that escape you. Beautiful, a creature of mindless want and desire, you've got one shaking hand between your thighs as the other reaches out, searching blindly for Oliver.

Face pressed into the plush duvet, you link your fingers with Oliver's the moment he reaches out to you. Your grip is tight, and he runs his thumbs in comforting rhythms against your hands, something pleased, loving, and so fucking turned on as Felix was quickly coming to fuck you like an absolute animal. The way you so desperately craved.

"Perfect," Felix moaned, "god you're so fucking perfect for us, pet, aren't you?" Nodding weakly, as much as your able, you clutch at Oliver's hand; his teasing had clearly already worked you up, brought you close. Both of you.

"Our good dog," Oliver murmurs, just to hear you whimper.

Fuck, he can't wait to watch you come undone.

Can't wait to make you both sit, roll over, beg.

#felix catton x reader x oliver quick #felix catton x reader #saltburn x reader #saltburn imagine #felix catton imagine #oliver quick x reader #oliver quick imagine #felix catton x y/n #oliver quick x y/n #felix catton smut #oliver quick smut #head heart hand fic #manic writer #okay so i got a bit drunk before writing the last few paragraphs don't judge me

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roxtron · 8 months

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YIPEE IT'S FINALLY DONE

spent the past like, month redrawing the sb cover art (original for side-by-side reference)

rambling under the cut

WOOO I'm so happy to finally have this done. I spent forever working on it, I wish I kept track but I'm pretty sure it took a month to fully finish, I've been working on it like every day for the past couple of weeks and I'm really happy to finally have it finished :D

I'm really proud of the rendering/shading on this one, the text was probably difficult which is why it looks the least accurate. I didn't want to just re-render it and re-draw the human characters so I changed the designs a little bit for this, first time I've drawn any of them. I thought it'd be fun to make their desgins fit a bit closer to the cartoony art around the pizzaplex and just smaller details I find fun.

(if monty is allowed to have spikes on his chest cavity i think freddy should be allowed fluff.. he looks so bald, if you count chica's feathers he's literally the only animatronic without hair LMAO)

I accidentally made some colors a bit more pastel or desaturated but overall I tried to replicate the rendering as well as I can, it was really good practice for understanding lighting better and stuff. (Roxy had like, 3 different color light sources I think? Monty had the most though..)

But anyway! I'm really happy I got this done so I can work on other stuff lol. I might use it for background stuff and I kept all the assets so I can edit them for pfps if i or other people want in the future.

Hope you enjoyed :)

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postmodernbeliever · 6 months

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fox mulder nsfw alphabet (for female/feminine readers)

an a-z of what's it's like to be loved by fox mulder in allllll the ways you wish you could be.

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i’ve never made one of these before so i followed another post’s example! a lot of this is chubby-girl friendly but also works for any body type. also, i got carried away so enjoy how long this is LOL. <3

my ao3 | word count: 3,537

content tags: smut smut smut SO MUCH SMUT, dom fox mulder, soft fox mulder, nsfw alphabet challenge, lots of kinks but i don't wanna spoil you gotta read it :), mentions of period/period blood, cross-posted on ao3

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a: aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

he is sweet. like, really sweet. he loves to be gentle, to tell you how pretty you are and how good you did for him, praising you up and down and giving you lots of slow, adoring kisses. he also tends to get a bit bashful, because even if he just fucked you senseless you still give him butterflies; so often he hides his face in the crook of your neck or lays on your stomach, and talks quietly, like he’s shy. all his guards are down, and he is wholly dependent and doting on you.

actionwise, he cleans you up and helps you into some clean pajamas, but he usually leaves you bottom-less because you tend to be sensitive and the feeling of fabric between your legs can be an overload on your senses. but he covers you however he can, and he combs through your hair, gets you water, helps you get comfortable in bed. he’s so gentle it’s straight-up dreamy.

b: body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

on himself, fox likes his hands. he knows they’re pretty big, considering he’s a bit tall, and he thinks they look strong, but he takes more pride in them also being soft. he has some callouses, but the pads of his fingers are smooth. and when he met you, you told him how nice they looked and felt, and that won him over.

on you, he can’t pick between your love handles/waist and thighs. he loves to squeeze where you have the most skin, and both of those places are where your body curves. he loves your softer edges, and because his hands are big, he can grab a lot more of you. he also loves how you react to him touching you in these places- you’re sensitive there, and you shiver when he drags his fingers across you or grips you hard. your reaction plays a big part in favoriting those spots. (bonus: he loves your hands too, because they’re smaller than his and caress his face softly… and scratch up his back. we'll get to that later.)

c: cum (anything to do with cum)

you actually tease him about this a lot, because he gets really eager sometimes and can’t hold it in. he’s developed a routine where he takes his time with you and draws your pleasure out as long as he can because he knows the second he starts actually fucking you, he won’t last long; and he is so much more interested in letting you be the one who receives, he gets off on stringing you out. also, it takes you a while to cum, so his pleasure-driven role is that much more important to him, because he will not stop until you do. and he loves when you finally cum way more than when he does. he likes to taste you, and make you taste yourself when he kisses you with coated lips.

d: dirty secret

the night of the first day he met you, he had an insanely vivid wet dream about you. even having been with you intimately plenty of times now, he gets nervous to bring it up, because when you’re not around, he still draws on that dream to get off to. it's kind of his guilty pleasure. in it, you drag him into his office at work and let him eat you out on his desk, all over his files and papers. you were in a pleated schoolgirl skirt, and you kept it on for him to tug at. one day he’ll tell you (probably) and buy you a skirt, just so he can have the real thing.

e: experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

the majority of his experience comes from all the porn he’s watched. despite his drive, he was always the one to take it slow with past girlfriends, and either they didn’t stick around long enough to wait for him, or when he did sleep with them, he didn’t have enough practice to make it how they wanted it. but he paid attention to how girls like to be touched and fantasized about being good at those parts. when he met you, you were even more inexperienced than him, so everything he did was like heaven to you, and he only gets better each time. he feels lucky to have you to learn with because you’re patient and you love everything he does, so he doesn’t feel pressure.

f: favorite position

fox is somewhat old-fashioned. he loves missionary because it’s simple, and he can kiss you more that way, and it’s easy to be gentle or rough depending on what you both want. he also likes standing missionary for the same reason, particularly for times when you want him to be rougher. but the freaky part of him likes these because he wants to watch you surrender, to see all of you beneath him, powerless, as he brings you to climax. he wants to see your eyes haze over, how you struggle to speak while he pins you down. that way, you’re all his.

fox also really loves cowgirl, because he can still see all of you that way, but when you’re feeling particularly eager he likes letting you do the work. you’re still submissive even on top, because he needs to guide your hips and tell you to keep moving. he likes cowgirl even more when you ride him while he’s upright, like against the headboard or in a chair, because you bury your face in his neck as you work, and he loves being so close to you. plus, it took you little to no time to figure out exactly how to ride him right. and because he cums so fast most of the time, you usually ride him through his overstimulation, which puts him out of commission for the night. he can get obsessive about how good that one feels.

g: goofy (are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc.)

he can be, because he’s naturally got a goofy streak. but unless you’re feeling giggly or playful, he just falls into that mode of being soft and dominant, talking dirty, and trying to fluster you.

h: hair (how well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

he keeps it trim just for hygiene, but you expressed a lack of concern for that, especially since you don’t always keep yourself trim either. it can be tedious to always be clean-shaven (and he doesn’t mind if you’re a little hairy, just like you don’t care if he is.) but, he does not touch his chest hair, because you are vehement that he keeps it.

i: intimacy (how are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

god, he is so intimate that it can leave you blushing for days after the fact. he does nothing but kiss and nip and lick, mouth and hands always on you; always whispering pretty things in your ears, dirty and gentle about how good you feel and smell and sound, about how pretty you look when he’s inside you. and innocent things, too. he tells you how pretty your tummy is, and your collarbones, every little part of your body gets admired. he tells you about how he loves your laugh and your smile, and how he's so lucky to have you all to himself. he takes every chance to make you feel cherished and important. he tells you how in love he is over and over like a mantra so that by the time he’s got you in the clouds, all you can think is he loves me, he loves me, he loves me…

j: jack off (masturbation headcanon)

he jacks off fairly often, but only because he’s usually thinking of you. if you’re not around or he’s away on a case, he gets needy and takes matters into his own hands, because he can’t help his dirty mind. he’s done it everywhere- his office, the work bathroom, in just about every room in his house. and, though he’d probably never admit it to you, he likes to hold your clothes sometimes when he does, because the smell of your perfume drives him crazy. he always takes something of yours when he goes away, just in case.

k: kink (one or more of their kinks)

okay, he’s got a few, but mainly because they’re kinks based on how you act or what he wants for you. so we’ll start with the kinks surrounding your pleasure:

obvious by now, praise. he loooves to praise. he’s crazy about you and how you make him feel, both emotionally and physically; he’s protective and loving, and he prizes you. he would make you cum just with words if he could. he adores pet names and anything he can call you, he will- princess, sweetheart, darling, honey, love, all of it. especially good girl, his personal favorite. he wants you to feel like the most special girl in the world because, to him, you are.

fox loves begging. he likes it for him, he likes to beg you for more, but he prefers when you beg. there’s something about watching you need him, and how your voice gets high-pitched and disgustingly lewd as you tell him what you want him to do. he loves being in control.

daddy!subspace. there are times when fox gets a little too into it, and you fall into a subspace. he loves this, especially yours, because you mix his name up with daddy, and every freudian instinct in his brain fires like crazy. he loves when you call him daddy, because that opens the praise door nice and wide, and he loves helping you come down after, because you get so flushed and nervous and you’re simply adorable when you need help speaking and asking for what you want.

now, fox’s personal kinks still have to do with you, but they're out of his own selfishness:

belly bulges. it’s no surprise because he’s so possessive, but something inside him snaps than when he takes your hand and presses it against the pudge of your tummy, where you can feel his cock poking against your walls. he loves being just big enough to fill you, and he loves how you go cross-eyed every time he does this, too- it’s just as hot for you as it is for him.

hands. he loves your hands and he wants them on him always, scratching him, marking his body with little red lines. they’re just small enough to make him feel big, and he loves your painted nails, too. he loves it when you pull on his shirt or his belt loops. he loves when you press them all over his face and chest because you don’t know what to do with them. he also loves to use his hands on you, to wrap softly around your neck and wrists, to pin your hips down, to push inside you; he has a penchant for sticking his thumbs in your mouth while he fucks you, too, because you always suck them like it’s your job. but there’s nothing like your hands on him.

here’s the big one: your period. fox likes making you a pillow princess, but he’s a monster when it comes to your period. you were worried when he said he didn’t mind the blood, but that first time he ate you during your time of the month was otherworldly. he loves the extra sensitivity you have, because it takes little to nothing to get you screaming, and some dark part of him loves to smear your blood all across his mouth and his chin. he loves to kiss you with those lips, leaving bloody prints up your stomach and chest, all over your neck and mouth. he craves the mess, the taboo nature of it all, and he loves how it’s a way of gently defiling you; mixing your blood with his spit, with his cum, it makes you his and him yours. maybe there’s a screw loose on his part, but if cannibalism didn’t mean you’d die, he’d fucking eat you whole. he even likes the taste. like i said, obsessive- but it’s kind of hot, isn't it?

l: location (favorite places to do the do)

honestly, anywhere. just the fact that you want him is good enough. he’s gotten you off in restaurant bathrooms, and at family homes during holidays when you just needed him and couldn’t wait. but he is partial to his couch or his bed because he likes having you all to himself in his own space.

m: motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

acting stupid. he loves when you ask him to explain things to you, even if you understand on your own, because he likes teaching you; he also gets all hot and bothered when you pout or frown, or bat your eyelashes innocently, saying “can you start at the beginning?” or “can you go a little slower for me?”. because he knows you’re smart and the slight frustration of you acting like you’re not mixed with the need to pamper you gets him going like crazy.

saying his name. if you call him fox, or sometimes foxie, he’s just about ready to fall to his knees. nobody calls him fox, so to hear you say it isn’t just intimate and special, but it’s also so sexy. you say it so many ways, but when you want him, he’s never liked the sound of it more.

his biggest motivation is your neediness. it seems that when you get going, you never want to stop. you want him to keep kissing, keep touching, keep licking, whatever it is you want more, and when you finish you want to start all over again because you get drunk on him- and that could keep fox going until he dies. he wants to give you everything you want, even if you never return the favor. he likes being yours to use.

n: no (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

fox does not like to degrade you, which might be odd for a guy who’s so controlling and protective, but it’s not in his nature. he loves you. he cherishes you. he couldn’t tell you you’re dirty, or you’re a slut, or any of the terms that might get other people off, because he doesn’t believe them. he thinks you’re perfect, an angel, so good, and he only wants to remind you of those. he wants you to feel loved.

he also won’t hurt you. certain things he’ll do, like he’ll choke you or pin your wrists down, but he won’t be overly rough and he won’t leave bruises or make it hurt. you don’t fight back, so he doesn’t need to be anything other than assertive.

o: oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

he prefers giving 100%. he likes it when you give him head because he likes seeing your pretty eyes look up at him, but he cums too fast to enjoy you doing it- plus, he can’t hear your noises when your mouth is full. he’d much rather just fuck you if he’s going to receive any pleasure. and god, is he good at it.

p: pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

he’s slow until he gets inside you. typically he likes to take his time on you, but when he starts fucking you, it starts to feel so good and you sound so pretty that he loses a little control and starts being rough. that part usually takes the shortest amount of time but it feels fantastic because he goes fast.

q: quickie (their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

if you two are going to have a quickie, it’s going to be because you’re extremely horny in a place where he can’t take his time, and he simply can’t resist relieving you. but he really likes to be alone with you and go slow, draw it out as long as he can, and take good care of you. he wants sex to be special, he doesn’t want you to ever feel like it’s just a means to an end. sex is about love for him, not just a way to get his fix.

r: risk (are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

fox is willing to try anything, but you both are a bit vanilla, in that sense. you only need him to feel good, and he doesn’t want to restrain you from being able to move and moan and touch him. most of the experimenting is verbal- he likes to push how far he can tease, and how much he can say to get you there. the trend seems to be that the dirtier he talks, the more pleasure you feel, and he wants to max you out.

s: stamina (how many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

he’s gotten better at lasting, but he can’t draw it out too long. he has a hard time stopping himself. but he can go a few rounds without getting tired or spending it all because of how eager he is to keep touching you, which is nice. that’s why he spends his time on you, because you can last longer, and he doesn’t need much.

t: toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

fox doesn’t have any toys. he is more than okay with you having them because if he’s not around, he can’t expect you to wait for him if you really need a release, and sometimes your hands aren’t enough. if he’s away on a case, sometimes he’ll call at night and talk you through it over the phone, so he at least has a little part in it. but he likes to be the one and only thing you can get it from when he’s with you, and so do you.

u: unfair (how much they like to tease)

oh, he loves to tease. he loves to talk and talk and talk, so much that sometimes you have to ask him to shut up and go faster. he wants to see you completely flustered from just his words, and honestly, he can get you halfway there on conversation alone. he knows just what to say, and how to say it, and it can be torturous, but you love it. and physically he teases, too, because he favors stringing you out. it can feel unfair at times, but you like it too much to care.

v: volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make)

he has two sides. most of the time, he’s quiet, low, gruff; he grunts, he moans, sometimes growls if he’s really feeling possessive. but when he’s close, it turns into the most adorable whining. right in your ear, too. he pants and stammers, and easily gets overwhelmed. it’s not too high-pitched, but it’s needy and uncontrollable, and it sounds so, so pretty.

w: wild card (random headcanon)

fox never kisses and tells. he doesn’t have many friends, but if anybody tries to inquire into his sex life, he won’t say a word. he wants to keep it all to himself, and he refuses to let anyone know a thing about you or how you act when you’re intimate with him. he respects your privacy and he doesn’t want anyone else thinking about you in that way. he also knows he has something special with you- sex with you is really emotional and involved for him, and he doesn’t want to just air out his love to other people.

x: x-ray (let’s see what’s going on in those pants)

(oh myyy, am i blushing.) a bit thick, and give or take maybe six, six and a half inches hard- no, give. he’s big. it’s veiny, especially when he’s overstimulated. and it’s curved up a bit at the tip- which is a pretty shade of pink, by the way. cute, just like him.

y: yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

anytime, any place. he always wants you. he can keep it under control of course- he gets through every day just fine. but he’s always thinking about you, and even when it’s innocent, he yearns to be with you and make you feel good. his dick loves you almost as much as his heart does.

z: zzz (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

for a guy who can’t sleep, fox gets pretty tired after, but he can stay up way longer than you can. usually, you need some aftercare, and you fall asleep shortly after, and he likes to stay awake to watch you sleep because your blush lasts and your skin is still hot. he loves to admire you for a while when you’re not watching. he also gets hungry after, so he usually stays up to eat something, and then he’ll crawl back into bed and pull your sleepy body in close.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡

this actually put me through hell to write because i want him so bad it’s driving me insane. hope you enjoyed, you little freaks. gonna go think about that period kink now.

#Spotify #fox mulder #x files #spooky mulder #the x files #fox mulder x reader #fox mulder x you #soft fox mulder #fox mulder x reader fluff #fox mulder fluff #fox mulder smut #alphabet challenge

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uva124 · 7 months

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INTRODUCING THE MOST MANIPULATIVE KING IN HISTORY , MAGNIFICO!!! 🎇🎇🎇🎇(I hate him but he deserves a redesign lol).

For those who see this post for the first time, I introduce myself, Hi :D! I'm Aled and this is a collaboration with @ animación , author of the rewrite of Wish that is on her profile (read it, the story it's soooo good) and I am in charge of drawing the redesigns of her story.

Now, coming back to the main thing, I will show how we got to this result :)

FACIAL FEATURES AND HAIR:

-Honestly, I never thought that getting used to drawing Magnifico would be so difficult lmao, how in most of my procedures to make the designs, I start with sketches and studying the structure of the character's face, this was a little difficult because I'm not that I'm used to drawing people over 20, but with a few practices I was able to figure out how to draw him :D

(I also did digital internships, but I didn't save most of them because I forgot lmao)

COLOR PALETTE:

-Don't think that I chose a palette of yellow and gold colors just because I thought it was pretty (well, that's also another reason), what happened is that when I was searching through conceptual arts, I found some designs by Magnifico where They used a blue and yellow color palette

I did a quick search and found this:

-Tell me this doesn't remind you of Magnifico, then yes, that's why I chose a yellow color palette, also adding a golden tone to give it a royal vibe.

-I also applied this in the design of Queen Amaya, in the publication of her design I explained why I added details of a dark blue color in her costume and Magnifico's costumes

ATTIRE:

-From the beginning I always wanted to modify Magnifico's cape by adding a rose as a brooch, and searching through the conceptual arts I found quite a few interesting models, so it can be said that I combined everything I liked and that's how I got the cape for Magnifico, Also adding other details that occurred to me.

-The author sent me several ideas for Magnifico (thank you by the way :D), one of them was associating Magnifico with the sun, I really liked the idea and that is why there are so many symbols of the sun in his suit, plus these It reminded me how in so many cultures the Sun is worshiped, just as the kingdom of roses worships Magnifico, there are also other reasons why the sun fits with Magnifico but I already mentioned that in the publication of Amaya's redesign.

-The truth is, I only drew the other details improvised, this time I just got carried away, but hey! The outfit didn't look bad at all :)

-Another important part of Magnifico's costume is the "M" on his badge, but in fact it is not an M 😅, it is the sign of Scorpio ♏, this idea was from Anny Mation

-So yeah, I had to add the Scorpio symbol yes or yes, at first I thought about adding it to the back of the cape but I wasn't convinced by the idea, but then I thought: "Wait, why don't I add the sign on the gold plate ? that would look elegant."

FINAL COMMENTS:

-I'm proud of how this turned out, I feel like it does justice to a villain that commemorates 100 years of Disney :)

-Also, I think that those who have already seen the other redesigns know which character is next, right 👀✨? For Aster, I don't know how long it will take me to draw him, since the boy is literally a walking animation studio lmao.

That would be all for now, until next time :D!

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drinkpisser · 2 months

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MY HESITANT ALIEN FIC, HOW IT CAME TO BE CHAPTER 1 IS FINALLY DONE!!

(I thinkk!)

thank you to anyone who has been waiting, I really hope you enjoy! :D 🫶 it's been great to make

PREVIOUS CHAPTER (the prologue) :

Like he had mentioned, it was the average summer night, albeit slightly chilly. Gerard had not long settled into the summer camp similar to the other teens who had wandered the woods all day. Even so, he found it difficult to relate to them. His dyed black hair was short and shiny from the humidity of the car ride there, though the streaks of red gleamed nicely in the sun- his eyes were sunken, glued to a drawing pad or species of insect that he would clutch into his hands and inspect, and he found it detrimental to attempt mingling beyond his limited social battery level. He simply wasn't ready to engage in interaction with an unfamiliar face, and I'd say that's pretty understandable. He found it reasonable to head to his dorm early, briefly skittering past the other kids and finding comfort within the spring mattress of the bunkbed.

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

CHAPTER 1: ACCEPTANCE

With a sigh, he pulls out a rented comic book he had stashed beneath his pillow. A classic Batman issue, to be precise. As his eyes fluttered from one panel to the other, they grew heavier and heavier- eventually, he had wandered into the land of dreams (with a cameo of laser beams and men in spandex) shockingly early, substituting his stuffed animal at home for a comic book.

Not too long later, murmurs and tiptaps of tired campgoers slid past Gerard's unconscious mind, leaving him in little less of a deep sleep. Goddamnit, he just couldn't get back to it after that. Tossing and turning, time passed slowly. Toss. Nevermind, turn. Toss again. Turn.

What's the use, he thought, before laying still in defeat. Unfortunately, a short while passes by, and Gerard's eyes are still straining shut, unrelaxed.

All of a sudden, a warm, unwarranted apricity fell upon his face. His eyes blink awake in confusion, squinting at the brightness of the mystery orb in the sky. Everyone is asleep. He sits up, with slight haste and panic- how is nobody concerned about this?

A polite whisper of "What the fuck is this?" leaves Gerard's mouth, what a strange prank to pull if it is one, he thought. Of course, like any other naive teenager would, he swiftly leaves the dorms to check it out.

Outside, it's extremely windy; Gerard wished he had brought his blanket with him- rather instead he retrieved a long, wooden stick he found rested against the doorframe (for self defense) like it'll do much against a giant mothership. His messy hair is now messier, the small fringe he once had brushing rapidly left to right in the breeze. As he cautiously strolled past the shelter of safety, he took a deep and dry swallow to build up the already dissolved courage within him. If you asked him, he'd say isn't scared at all, he's had traumatic nightmares worse than this. In other words, he'd be lying through his teeth. It's the middle of the night in a forest, the most intimidating concept ever for a young and vulnerable person. Every step impersonates a cracking eggshell, every blink or twitch of a muscle echoes like a gunshot. Crows flock in an alarmed state, frogs and rats huddle together under drip-tip leaves. Foxes flee in unison with the hedgehogs they were chasing.

Why on earth did he think this was a logical idea? It's a catastrophic idea- which means he's still going to go through with it. Determined, even with shakily numb legs. Thankfully, by now, the occurrence that woke him up is in full view so he can save himself the trouble. He ends up resting against a wooden fence, pausing, gazing in awe at what was above him.

Graphic gleams illuminate the dull night in all colours beyond imagination, sourced from an outstanding construction of metal balanced in the night sky. Almost akin to if they invented a portable northern lights kit that can be used anywhere, it spun slowly, as though it was scanning the strange organism that was staring upon it. The lights from the sides of the cockpit shut off without warning. Sliding doors beneath the ship clang open, sending small sparks flying into the stars.

Red.

It's all red. A red light, aimed directly at Gerard's exposed forehead. It warped the grass to a strange brunette, the buildings to a maroon and the fence he was leaning on to a crimson. An ambiguous voice within that colour told Gerard all he needed to know- run. Get the fuck out of there! The last thing he needed on any historical record of his was "kidnapped by a strange vehicle", and it's sure to be impossible to explain to his parents or the police, so he'd best act quickly!

That he did. Running as quick as his body could take him, wary of hazardous rocks and tree stumps that could screw him over. As predicted, the machine begun chasing. It didn't appear to be hostile- shooting or sending out traps that could catch him, it just.. chased. Gerard looks back, pathetically lunging the wooden stick at the fortified metal. The machine looks behind itself in confusion and unphased, leaving Gerard puzzled. Did it even know what was going on? Was it just playing copycat to toy with him?

Nonetheless, he continues to sprint more than he ever had planned to at this stay. Absolutely terrifying.

SPLASH!!

Brilliant, just great! He's gone and fell in a swampy puddle, grazing his knees on sharp ground. His hands sting, but he endures, forcing himself to ignore the hisses of agony as he gets back up. Limping like a champion, he struggles his way into a nearby porta potty. Not the most hygienic or convenient but this is a pretty rational situation to be complaining.

Once he was inside, he realised there isn't much at all he can do to improve his pain. He grabs the half used, thin toilet paper and wraps it around his wounds, begging his senses to blind him from the putrid smell of the enclosure he's settling in. Petrified of leaving, he crafts a makeshift blanket out of his comfort hoodie, placing his pins and badges to the side. Because he is wearing shorts, he resorts to a foetal position to successfully contain the warmth of the hoodie blanket, also creating a third useful tool of a gas mask with the hood itself. He looks ridiculous. He surely feels it. Yet exhaustion had hit him like a pile of bricks; he soon falls back to his state of slumber in here. In a summer camp bathroom. Wrong. It's worse than that, a porta potty with barely any space. The interview from the prologue was right- you really couldn't make this shit up.

The next morning flows by perfectly. Birds sing a harmony, everyone is well rested. The ideal summers day, unless you're the nerd snoozing away in the trashy, unused camp toilet. The door is about to be unlocked by a relatively unhappy janitor who is definitely not paid enough for this... Dare I say, shit?

The door cracks open with a thud, hitting a filthy Gerard on the side.

"Oh, what, the door's jammed again?" The janitor complains before seeing the adolescent. His wrinkly eyes tweak, and he holds back several cuss words in surprise.

"Get up. Come on," he snaps, dragging Gerard out by the arm. Groaning, he shoves the cleaner away and composes himself.

"Look, I can explain- I was being chased by some spaceship! It was seriously a fuckin' mess. I'm covered in cuts from it- see?!" Gerard then shows him his battle scars from that mighty fall he took.

"Yeah, well, alcohol isn't allowed here. Being chased by aliens isn't a solid alibi either. Trust me, I tried it," The janitor snarls nonchalantly, sighing, "just get back to campus and clean up."

He shuts the porta potty door. Damn, he must be responsible for that tragic leftover shit-stench.

Gerard frowns. This, he did not consider. Going back to everyone- the people he'd barely even brushed past, without introducing himself the way he wanted. Now they're all going to know him for sure. Probably call him stupid names, humiliate him and such.

However, if it wasn't for who emerged next, he could have cried a river.

A chirpy, curious voice.

"Dude, I don't mean to embarrass you but did you get lost in the sewers?" the voice chuckles.

Letting out a small shriek, Gerard turns around.

An approachable looking young man stood before him, shuffling his feet with a sense of innate awkwardness. The boy was surprisingly tall for his age, and had the most wonderful curly locks of hair Gerard had ever seen. Somehow he knew by the shirt he was wearing that they'd hit it off straight away. Any sense of shame Gerard had dissipated, as the subject of music is one he exceeds in. Maybe this was his perfect chance to finally befriend somebody here!

"Holy shit," Gerard smiles, "The Smashing Pumpkins? I love their music, man."

"Ah, so we aren't gonna adress my question? Alright! Yeah, I listen to them a lot. I know a few songs on guitar too." He replies, impressed.

"My name is Ray. Weird circumstance, but you're pretty neat and... certainly interesting! Wanna be friends?"

Bingo, that was easy. Gerard almost exploded in excitement that his band tactic worked, but he resorted to a chilled nod and kick of a pebble.

"Yeah, sounds cool. Name's Gerard...

Uh, I would explain why I'm covered in mud and probably shit too but I don't wanna be accused of drinking by somebody I barely know again..." he mumbles.

"It's fine- I know a way we can get to the showers without passing anybody. Then I'm so down to hear all about this!" Ray chuckles ecstatically before wandering off.

"I suppose i have no choice but to follow, or else my ass'll get kicked by that janitor." Reluctantly, Gerard trails behind his new buddy, sneaking past anything that looked like a person or member of staff (not to say they arent people or anything, they're just a hindrance at this certain moment in time).

"At least I can get a laugh outta this in a few years," he monologues to himself whilst hiding behind a tree.

Ray slowly turns, confused both as to whether he was being spoken to or not and the fact this douche is pretending to be a tree.

"Yeah.." He smiles, unable to conceal a short burst of laughter.

They continue on their miniature voyage, finally making it to the shower room unscathed. The two wave a slightly uncomfortable goodbye, and Ray takes a seat outside, twiddling his thumbs.

A short while later, Gerard walks out, thankfully no longer covered in mud. He smiles, greeting Ray once again.

"Thanks for waiting," he says, holding his clean hand out for a handshake. Ray, with the reassurance that there is no more mud, shakes it.

"No problem, you wanna head to camp? I'm pretty sure it's lunchtime."

"Sounds like a plan." Gerard adjusts the geeky pins on his hoodie, making his way to the benches.

At the benches, there sits a group of four. Gerard avoids direct contact with their faces at first, in the dire case that he's only there for a small punchline. Ray introduces them all, but the names don't stick. Nerves have struck Gerard's mind like a vigorous thunder, preventing him from paying his most full attention. Nodding does the trick, so he just went along with it. After sitting and shuffling, attention once again falls to Gerard through a demanding whisper in the ear.

"What happened to you, then?" Ray enquires.

"No judgement, alright? I can barely get my own head around it," Gee releases an intense sigh. It seemed to go quiet, or was it just his imagination?

"I was chased by strange figures in a giant ship looking thing. It was beautiful at first until I thought I was going to die. It seemed to be after me specifically, and I almost fell right into it's trap whilst everybody else was fast asleep."

Ray's expression dropped like an astounded cat. Maybe Gerard had forgotten to use his indoor voice due to the exterior surroundings of the forest, but the whole table had suddenly earwigged. Silence had truly struck this time. A brief calm before the storm, so to speak.

Laughter invades the air like poison in an airvent. The barricades of comfort were banished and giggles screeched like nails on a chalkboard. Shame for ever saying a single word ever dawned on Gerard with a pile of regret.

"This dude's nuts!" a preppy girl whines.

"Whatever he's on, I want it.." a curtain-banged boy adds.

"Why'd you bring this freak here?" some jerkwad adds.

"Hey now, come on- he's just got here! If it wasn't aliens, it was surely something." Ray defends, but it's futile.

Its settled. He's done for. Gerard's done for. He knows full well, ducking down in silence. Just like he had worried, it isn't working. He's alone at this place, and not in the preferred introverted way he'd wished.

He could die here alone.

He could die alone point blank.

That being recognised, he grabs his satchel teary-eyed and rushes off. Being accused of lying when all you speak is truth crucially damages your self assurance, your fragile confidence, your efficacy as a living, breathing person. Usually it wouldn't phase Gerard at all, but salt had definitely been rubbed into those vunerable wounds. I mean, without a doubt it's a phenomenal story to tell to a stranger. Chased by aliens and all that junk. Yet what a laughing stock he'd become in his vacant mind, weeping his heart out behind the main office he fled and hid behind.

He wanted to go home, back to his younger brother and cluttered bedroom. Back to the dainty hallway filled with shelves of vintage dolls and trinkets. Back to his drawing desk and flickering lamp. Day one and he was already through with it all. He'd rather not get out at all than suffer another minute pretending he's enjoying himself in the cruel wilderness.

Without warning, the overwhelming stream of thoughts cut off with that same chirpy voice, however this time it approached gently.

"Thank god I found you, really. I didn't mean for all that to happen-" he's soon interrupted the blinded humiliation of Gerard's anger.

"Screw that! It was your plan all along to put me in the social shit. You just wanted me to look decent whilst you did it! They clearly ain't impressed by you on your own so the nearest idiot you found made the cut! I get it! Rub it in some more." He scrapes words through tears so warm that they're steaming, almost not completely aware of what he's spewing.

Ray's pleading face grows in distress; it's true that the people he'd lingered with weren't the most welcoming of friends. He'd just happened to have met them during a group activity and thought they we're right for him. He was never in their group, he was just with their group. In that moment, he was willing to sacrifice them all for someone he'd not long met after seeing an unusual spark in his eyes that they didn't posess. Aware of the room that needed to be read, he sits a fair distance from Gerard, quiet.

A few minutes pass by consisting of Gee huddled up within himself and Ray staring with guilt.

Forcing out his voice once more, Ray apologises.

"I've needed that lecture for a while, really. They're full of shit. I honestly just wanted to help you out- I thought they'd find you cool just like I did, you like similar stuff to them-" Ray rambles and trips on his words, desperate for an understanding response.

Fortunately, Gerard had calmed enough to not verbally vomit every thought in his brain this time.

"... I know," he reassures, "I just didn't wanna mess this up, yknow. The reason why I was brought here by my parents was so I could experience more things and a big part of that was a need to be liked," loathing away at himself, Ray listens and "mhms" until he can barely restrain his words any longer...

"I believe you."

"What?" Gerard's head perks up in disbelief.

"We don't need them to either, if more than one person believes then it's credible. Something in space is out there and you we're lucky enough to discover it, Gerard!" Ray forms a contagious smile as he speaks, erupting excitement as he does.

"I suppose.." a glum smirk passes Gerard's face, quickly turning to a grin. "Alright."

The two stand together and hug it out, walking back from the secluded area at the same pace, yapping all the time away whilst skipping day classes.

The afternoon quickly fades to the evening, the sunset tainting the busy perimeter with a sense of euphoria. All throughout that time, Gerard couldn't help but participate in small ventures of the camp activites with slight eagerness, collecting logs and sticks for the bonfire at the highest speed he could maneuver. As the fire erupted, he watched the flames dance with fascination. Being a self proclaimed pyromaniac and all, it helped him relax.

Even with a time of turmoil ahead, a deep puzzle within him had been solved, a message he needed to hear ever since the trainwreck of last night slammed its breaks.

That somebody believed in him.

[ end of chapter 1 ! ]

#brits4gerardway

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cornie-heesan · 5 months

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Cherrygirlxx

STARING| Nakamoto Yuta x fem!reader

PROMPT| of creator!reader

DESCRIPTION| After the incident that happened at the house with Mark and Yuta, the Japanese man had been scarce around the house. Only coming home long enough to grab a fresh change of clothes. No more lingering stares, comments or slightly unsavory touches between Yuta and Mark’s girlfriend. Yuta has found himself a little play thing of his own that has been occupying his time.

WARNINGS| Dubious content my friends, perv!yuta, dom!yuta, sir kink, corruption kink, spitting, rough sex, unprotected sex [don’t, you’ll get pregnant and d*e], piv, spanking, fingering, oral [m and f recieving], AFAB body description, spanking, hair pulling, face sitting, choking, name calling [affectionate], if any of the previous statements bother you, or you don’t like it- don’t read it

WORD COUNT| 1,409

A/N| I have no idea where this came from lol

A/N| Pt.2 I've been MIA because I moved 30 hours across the country and had to drive lmao, here's something even if it's not much ;)

NSFW UNDER THE CUT- read at your own discretion

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Yuta had made himself scarce around the house after the incident a few weeks ago- not because he was ashamed- more, curious to venture out and do something exciting on his own- preferably with a partner. He spent long nights in the library studying, watching movies, hell even sleeping- when there was one night that he’d me you, Y/L/N Y/N. All frills, ribbons, pretty nails and a devious smile.

For a few days the two of you shared flirty smiles and heated gazes- then the next Yuta’s eyes follow you around the library where he hops he could get a little glimpse under the short little skirts you wear. He takes note of your favorite drink order, the way you cutely nibble on the end of your acrylic nails as you read through some texts.

One day he sees you leaning against a bookshelf thighs continuously rubbing together. He watches as your chest heaves, cheeks a wicked shade of red and little gasps leaving your plump lips. He didn’t think you were going to be sick- his head cocks slightly as he glances around the practically empty basement level of the library.

Eyes land on a man, sitting only a few meters away from you- baseball cap partially covering his hair, a phone propped against a water bottle and another phone with an app open, that the mystery guy is currently dragging his finger against. Yuta’s eyes widen slightly as he recognizes the app- it controls a wireless vibrator. A high pitched whine draws his attention back to you- teary eyes focused on his own.

Your hips are twitching, you try to keep the noises down but you can’t help it- a squeal leaves your lips as your eyes roll back and your lips take an O shape. Yuta can’t help but hungrily roam your body- he can see the flex of your lower belly as your orgasm surges through you. Thighs twitching, nails digging into the grain of the bookcase you learned on- and he definitely didn’t miss the trickle of slick running down your thighs.

He packs up his things quickly, retreating to the single use bathroom before he got transfixed on watching the afterglow overtake your body. He was as hard as a fucking brick in his loose fitting gym shorts- a small dark patch of pre stating where the head of his cock was settled. He makes quick work of locking the door and shoving his shorts down to his ankles before gripping his cock tightly.

A hiss slips past his bared teeth at the contact, whole heartedly wishing it was your warm pussy wrapped around him. Yuta didn’t care that he didn’t know your name, he didn’t need to when just the mere thought of you made his balls heavy and stomach clenching with need. Honestly your reminded him of his favorite only fans creator- cherrygirlxx

He can’t help the debauched groan that leaves his lips as he fumbles to pull his phone out of his bag opening the app and pulling your account up- where he sees a newly posted video on your account. A very familiar shade of green is behind you along with several bookcases as the little microphone you wore picks up the little whimpers and cries that leave you only captioned

‘Please, sir 🥺’

Yuta can’t help but speed up his hand. His favorite fucking creator goes to his school and has been sending him ‘fuck me’ eyes every day in the library for the last two weeks. He subconsciously matches your frequencies- fucking his fist along with the recorded whimpers leave your lips. Dirty words leaving your lips as you beg and plead for ‘sir’ to fuck you, to make you cum. It only eggs Yuta on, pushing him over the edge as cum leaks from his reddened tip, dripping around his fingers until his balls feel completely emptied.

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Yuta avoids his normal area in the library for a few days, he couldn’t bring himself to look at you in real life without popping a chub like a prepubescent boy. After the fifth day he decides that he can’t keep himself from seeing your pretty face in person any longer- that and the fact that and some of the younger brothers had figured out where he’d been hiding the last couple of weeks.

He doesn’t say a word to you- until one day you sat pertly on the chair next to him, Shining lip gloss coating your lips, skirt barely gracing your thighs, that were partly covered in stocking with little pink bows that dug into the fat of your them. Yuta’s brain short circuits, almond shaped nails ghosting over the skin of his arm where his lock and chain tattoo sat.

“I hope this doesn’t mean you’re taken,” the pout of your glossy lips draws his attention away from your pink painted nails- he’s able to give you the most charming smile “No cherry girl, it doesn’t” you don’t shy away from his silent confession instead your eyes sparkle with mischief. Confidently you move closer to him, your breasts pushing against his arm, sticky lips ghosting his ear

“Would you be down to film some content with me?” Your breath causing tingles to shoot down Yuta’s spine but he tries to cover it up with a husky laugh “Do you always try this with guys around campus, princess?” He hums sliding his hand to rest lightly around your throat “No sir,” you sigh dreamily wishing he’d put just a little more delicious pressure around your throat.

“Who was the guy last week, hm?” His lips teasing along your jaw nipping at the skin “You know him,” you giggle sliding even closer to him- not like that was possible. Yuta thinks back to the man he saw with you last week- realizing on the way out he got a look at his face.

Ten Lee

How had he not recognized his frat brother? Better yet, how did Ten not notice that Yuta was sitting right there? The universe must be out for him at this point.

Your nails scrape along his thighs as he watches you sink down on to your knees staring up at him with those same fuck me eyes you had been giving him weeks ago.

“Can I please, please, please suck your cock sir?” Yuta couldn’t deny how pleasing you looked begging him to bring his cock out. The Japanese man smirk, subconsciously spreading his thighs wider

"Since you've been such a good girl, I don't see why not."

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“Why are you guys always watching someone fuck in this god damn living room?” Johnny groans kicking his shoes off hearing the unmistakable sound of skin on skin slapping. First with the Mark bullshit and now Jaehyun, Haechan, Jeno, Jaemin, Ten and Yangyang have only fans pulled up on the tv.

“You know how Ten is friends with that creator ‘cherrygirlxx’? She has a man on her account now. He’s been trying to figure out why she hasn’t had him help with content lately.” Jaehyun explains like it’s some kind of research project “Ten, why are all your friends outside of this house into recording themselves?” John questions only to receive a shrug for an answer. Giving up Johnny just gives in and joins the watch party.

The videos change after the last one Ten helped with, using a wireless vibrator to get you off in the middle of the library. Next is a video of you was filled with that unmistakable ugly orange carpet in the basement of the library and the thighs of some mysterious man who’s cock you were currently choking on. Wonton whines leave your lips as drool trails down your chin as you happily swallow the guys cum with a smile on your face.

Next you were still in the library but now positioned on a table face down ass up, camera focused on your fucked out face with the lewd sounds of your pussy fill the air. The camera angle changes to your pussy being finger fucked by this man, gushes of slick leaving your body as you whither and moan for sir to let you cum.

“Jesus Christ what I would do to fuck that woman..” Haechan whines awkwardly moving his hips “Bro, ain’t no way she’s gonna let your pencil dick anywhere near her pussy.” Ten snorts “What? You hit it?” Jaehyun pipes up only to receive a smirk from the Thai man and no other answer. Ignoring his distracted brothers Jaemin swipes to the next video- where there was finally a change of scenery- albeit an outside scenery, a change none the less.

The guys pants shoved halfway down his thighs as his hand wraps around your hair arching your back as he fucks you against a tree that’s not too far from the frat house. It’s dim but the familiar shrill of music from a speaker. They sat analyzing the video trying to figure out if they could figure out who the guy was when the door opened to the front of the house.

Skin slapping and moans reach Yuta’s ears as he toes off his shoes pausing before remembering it’s not Mark because he’s got a late lecture today. His eyes find the TV where the familiar scene of his pelvis rhythmically slaps into the fat of your ass- begging him to fuck you harder on his cock. He doesn’t speak to the guys as he flops into an armchair scrolling through his phone.

The next video is the one you had only just posted a few minutes ago- you’re on your back, head dangling of the edge of an unmade bed. The man is only showed from the naval down- you have tear stained cheeks as you mindlessly babble about how good the cock inside you feels. If someone’s paying enough attention they can see the slight bulging movement of where his cock is hitting your insides.

“Wait a goddamn minute,” Yangyang speaks suddenly causing Jaemin to groan and pause the video “Doesn’t that tattoo look familiar to anyone!?” Yangyang shrieks pointing his finger aggressively to the tattooed hip “Bro, I was too busy watching her get fucked- not that guys dick?” Haechan whines before freezing finally noticing the bellybutton ring in the guys naval. Where has he seen that before?

Yuta ignores their comments on his tattoos- that is until Yangyang screamed smacking Haechan on the shoulders. They exchange eye contact before Haechan joins in on the screaming as the shake each others bodies aggressively “What the fuck are you two on?” Jaehyun grumbles peeling his eyes open to look at what they see “BUTTERFLY…TATTOO… BELLYBUTTON RING!!!!!” They scream in gasped breaths.

Yuta takes this as his sign to exit the room before everyone starts to realize they’ve been watching him I dick down the baddest [affectionate] only fans creator. Ten’s eyes catching the movement of Yuta slinking out of the room catching a quick glance of a familiar butterfly tattoo adorning his hip- a panicked scream leaves his mouth

“YOU’RE THE ONE FUCKING CHERRY?!?!?”

#smut #nct smut #nct yuta #yuta nakamoto #nakamoto yuta #nct 127 #nct x reader #nct imagines #nct #nct mark #nct ten

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reallydelicatezombie · 2 years

Text

NSFW Alphabet - Legolas

I blame "The Rings of Power" for getting me all riled up over this elfin dude. 😤 Also, NSFW Alphabets are one of my favorite types of smutty writings because they're a great overview of the character, and they're really good for getting me thinking about what scenarios and oneshots I could potentially write for the character. ALSO also: for the purposes of this fic, we're giving Legolas dark grey eyes. I do not like the blue contacts in "The Hobbit" at all, and in the books his eyes are grey, BUT since Bloom's eyes are dark brown, I decided dark grey would be a good medium. But you can imagine him with whatever color eyes you want! 😉

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

The literal Prince of Aftercare. Did you expect this soft, sweet cinnamon roll to be anything else but loving afterwards?? He worships you, giving you sweet praises in Sindarin and Westron, telling you how well you took him, while he strokes your hair and holds you tightly. He will get you whatever you desire, whether it be food or drink, or a nice hot bath. He loves gently bathing you as he sits behind you in the tub, leaning you back against his strong chest. He'll massage your sore muscles, rub soothing Elf ointment on you, and then cover you both in the softest blankets as you fall asleep in his arms.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Legolas absolutely loves your neck and bare shoulders. He finds these areas so intimate and alluring. Your beautiful neck is just begging to be kissed and sucked when you arch it for him during sex, and your bare shoulders draw his hands from his sides to caress them. He also loves your luscious hips and supple thighs. Elvish women are generally svelte, and you were worried when you first fell for him that he would find your womanly shape unappealing, but to the contrary, it enthralled him. He loves squeezing and stroking all your curves, and he especially loves that he can grip your hips to pull you back into him when he's taking you from behind. He can hike your thighs up higher around his waist so he can angle himself deeper when he's fucking you face to face.

On himself, Legolas is very proud of his hair, arms, and hands. He knows he has beautiful hair, and when you first asked to touch it, he blushed furiously, but was secretly very pleased that you found it so desirable. As for his arms and hands, he has spent a great deal of his life perfecting his archery and fighting skills, and has built up lithe but incredibly strong muscles. Muscles that he uses to hold you up agaisnt the wall.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Legolas has two places that he loves to come on you, although he will gladly come anywhere you wish. First, he absolutely loves coming on your face, watching the cum drip down your soft face and graceful neck, dip into you clavicle, and then down your breasts. He think it is the most beautiful, the most arousing sight he has ever seen. He was deeply ashamed to request trying this, so you took the initiative and knelt down to let his cum splatter onto your face. His reaction was one of such awe and pleasure that you simply had to do it again and again. His second favorite place is on your lower back/ass. Really, what these two places boil down to is that he loves seeing you covered in his cum; it's like marking that you're his, a sight only for him to see, and the sight drives him absolutely wild.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Legolas would literally rather die and never see the Undying Lands than ever tell a single soul this, but he has a particular dream of stumbling upon you completely naked in a woodland glade (for his eyes only, of course) shooting a bow--his bow, to be precise. He knows it is strange, but the thought of you absolutely bare, with every curve on display, using his weapon with your muscles tensed and taut, just absolutely ruins him. He has had many, many dreams about this exact scenario, and if for whatever you reason you found out and decided to surprise him by fulfilling this fantasy, he is positive his poor elfin heart would stop and he would die on the spot. (Spoiler alert: you do find out about it when, after one of his nights drinking too much with Gimli, he drunkenly tells you. You of course surprise him several days later by inviting him to meet you out in the forest, where you are waiting naked with his bow. He does not, in fact, die, but he is speechless for several long minutes. He then fucks you senseless and decides that he is the luckiest being in any of the realms.)

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He is not experienced; he has had at most two flings before he met you, long ago in his early youth, and only a handful of times with each. BUT--this does not at all mean he is bad or awkward when you get together. Far from it, in fact. Not only is Legolas keenly observant (he sees with his elf eyes, after all), but Legolas has read some things. You see, the Elves have a lot of writing about a great many number of things, including sex. There is a great deal of early Elvish erotic poetry (complete with pictures) that Legolas just so happened to read in his teenage years. It has stuck with him ever since. As his father's library expanded, it gradually grew to include volumes of a similar nature, but from a human perspective. He, being the learned scholar he is, read that, too. Only he didn't think he'd ever need to use that knowledge--until he met you.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He'd be hard pressed to choose a favorite position, but he absolutely loves taking you from behind when you're both laying down on your sides. This position allows him to be as slow and sensual as possible, and he can reach around and play with your nipples and breasts, or stimulate your clit; he can also kiss that lovely neck of yours, or turn your head so he can press deep, passionate kisses on your lips. For times when you both need it hard and fast, he holds you up against the wall, with your legs wrapped around his waist. He can hold you like that for multiple rounds, and can use the wall for leverage. He loves being able to kiss your lips, neck, and shoulders in this position, and his dark grey eyes bore into your e/c ones, making sure he's bringing you to the height of ecstasy.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Nothing about Legolas is goofy or silly, but he does have a unique sense of humor, and will say little things to make you smile or laugh, or even blush (which makes him smile and laugh), during your time together. There are times, however, when he is deadly serious and just needs you. He won't joke during those times, and you wouldn't think to, either.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He has very trim, tidy hair down there, and it grows like that naturally, so he doesn't have to do much grooming. He has a tiny little trail of faint golden hairs leading from his lower abdomen to his groin. You think it's incredibly sexy.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Legolas is deeply intimate, no matter the occasion. He believes that making love (or even the times when it's fucking) is a special thing, one that he does not take for granted. So he wants to show you how special you are to him. He reads you love poems, and erotic poems in Sindarin and Westron, and will light a few candles for soft lighting. He'll hold you close, whispering sweet phrases to you: Chin gelair chîn orthernir guren. (Your radiant eyes conquered my heart.) Thîr vain chîn darn thulen. (Your beautiful face halted my breath.) He will also write poetry and songs just for you, which is incredibly romantic.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Yes. Just yes. He does, and when he first fell for you, he was greatly surprised to find that he simply could not control his urges, which proved quite . . . distracting. You met when you joined the Fellowship, and during the various battles that followed, like the Battle of Helm's Deep, was not the most opportune time to get a boner. So he had no choice but to find somewhere and jerk off, otherwise he would have been too distracted during battle. So now that you're together, he doesn't need to jerk off so much, but since there are times he must be apart from you, he still finds it necessary. During these times, he just dreams his fantasy of you naked and wielding his bow. He also dreams of what he'll do to you when he returns.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

P R A I S E KINK. Your handsome elf needs to hear that he is doing a good job, he needs to know that he is the only one who can make you feel this good. He lives for your praise, for your sweet, lust-filled moans when he's taking you; tell him how strong he is, how handsome you find him, please. He will shower you in praise in return: "How well you take me, Miluis (lovely one). So beautiful for me, spreading your legs so good for me."

Hair pulling kink. He *loves* it when you pull his hair, whether he's going down on you or if he's balls deep inside you. It shows him how great he's doing. He likes the bit of pain that comes with such pleasure. He also likes to pull your hair. If he's behind you, he'll wrap it around his hand and pull enough to make your head snap back; if he's in front of you, he'll do the same in order to reveal your neck to him, so he can suck and bite on it. Speaking of which. . .

He loves it when you bite and suck on his sensitive ears. You rubbing and caressing the tips sensually is completely foreplay to him, and you know just how to rub them.

He also loves spanking your ass. He would never truly hurt you, because he loves you and knows he's much stronger than you, but he does love seeing the imprint of his hand outlined in red on your ass check. He likes to watch it jiggle when he spanks you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Because you two are travelling much of the time, you don't really have a fixed location exactly, but he loves any room you two share on your adventures. It's the intimacy of the space that he craves. He also loves any forest, meadow, glade, or dale, too. Seeing you exposed to him under the night sky with the stars, or under the bright sunlight, just does something to him.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

In keeping with his fantasy, seeing you using his bow and using it well gives him an instant boner. Along that line, any fighting skills you posses and use will turn him on. If you pin him down during a sparring session using your thick thighs, he immediately stops fighting you, gets the cockiest grin on his face, a massive boner, and just lays back enjoying it. Seeing you in elfin clothes, with your hair beautifully braided (by him, of course), with a pale gossamer gown that dips low and shows off your neck and collar bones makes him fall in love with all over again (and also leads to you finding some private room somewhere to fuck). If you should happen to learn Sindarin (you do, of course) and you start to say something even remotely teasing, he is instantly a blushing, horny mess. (You do this often.) Bonus points are given if you say it in a low, sensual voice, just barely whispering it against the shell of his ear. He is literally putty in your hands.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Legolas would never take you in an environment he felt was dangerous (so like, if there are orcs roaming about), because as much as he desires you, he would never forgive himself if he didn't keep you safe. He is also not a fan of anything public. He is very private and reserved when it comes to things like that; as he is an elf of few words, being in a spot where you could get caught or within easy earshot of someone hearing him giving you pleasure would likely lead to teasing from the rest of the Fellowship, and that is a conversation he does not wish to have.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Have you heard ya boi roll his 'R's in Sindarin?? Of course he is amazing at giving oral. He absolutely loves the taste of you, like sweet water, and puts all of his linguistic skills to good use when pleasuring you. He has also eaten you out many times while you hovered over his face. Anyway he can give you oral, he would gladly do. On the other hand, he equally enjoys receiving. Not only is your technique superb, but in this position he can sit and watch your beautiful face as he cums all over it. You take his cock and his cum so well, and to be honest, this is something he had only read about in those erotic Elf texts until he met you. You literally stole the breath from his lungs the first time you wrapped your tongue and mouth around his hard shaft.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Generally, Legolas prefers to take his time with you, so slow and sensual is his preferred pace. This way, he can make sure to give you the maximum amount of pleasure: kissing, caressing, breast play, oral, before sliding into your wet heat, he loves all of it. But as said before, there are sometimes when he just wants to fuck you senseless and do it roughly, so he'll slam into you at a bruising pace, which you love.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Occasionally they're necessary because of time constraints, but he prefers the times when he can give you all of his attention instead of rushing through it, which is why you don't often have them.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Like the situation previously mentioned where there might be orcs or other malicious beings around, he is just unwilling to risk your safety. He doesn't have the drive to have sex where there's an added element of danger. And while he does love pulling your hair and spanking you, anything more that might break your skin or cause lasting harm, like knife play or whips or wax play--these are not risks he takes with you.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

My dear, he is called the most tireless of all the Fellowship for a reason. You will most assuredly get tired long before he does, but honestly he prefers it that way, because the thought of not being able to satisfy for as many times and as long as you desire honestly makes him a little sad. He is always up for more than one round, but realizes that for your human body, that might not always be physicallly possible. So, he tries to go for as long as possible, like well over an hour as long as you're not too tired or sore. Your bones are usually limp by the time you're done.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Elves, unsurprisingly have several toys, but because mechanical and electric things have not been invented yet, these are stationary and usually involve insertion. You've tried them together, but they weren't anything special. You much prefer your fair Elf prince's fingers, tongue, and cock.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Also unsurprising: Legolas is a huge tease. He will somehow always manage to sneak up on you without a sound and then whisper something shockingly naughty against your ear while ghosting a light kiss over your neck. When you turn around to say something, he is somehow standing far away, grinning st how aroused he made you from something so simple. He will also make a big show of braiding and unbraiding his hair in front of you, knowing that you desperately want to run your fingers through it. Speaking of showing off, he manages to be practicing some martial art or other shirtless a truly absurd number of times. Even when it's freezing out. "Is it not a bracing day out, perfect for exercising, Miluis?" You would fuss at him that it's too cold out, but you know he doesn't really feel the cold and then you'd have to deprived of the sight of his muscles.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Not loud, but talkative. For someone who is generally quiet, he says a lot during sex. He is always whispering praises in Sindarin and Westron, as well as many swear words in both languages. He can't help it; he just needs to say how good you make him feel and how much he loves you. He won't mind if you make some noise, however. He lives for your moans and pants, your praises and screams. He'll do anything to get those out of you.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

It is Legolas's personal goal to go through every position and technique he read about in Those Books (you know the ones) with you. He thinks you would both greatly enjoy it, and plans on asking you if you'd like to some day. You will of course say yes, and will have the best sex of your life.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He's long, not very thick, but veiny. His cock has a mushroom head, and gets a very fleshy pink when aroused. The anatomy is the same shape as a human man.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

High. He wants you all the time, anywhere (so long as it's safe), any way. You can wake him up at 2:00am, and he's ready to go. He's ready after a long day of journeying, after a battle, after lunch--any time you want. He just loves you so much, and loves connecting with you physically and emotionally. You bring out all of his desire, and he has to show you that. If you don't have a high sex drive, though, he's of course very respectful and can content himself with plenty of jerking off to his favorite bow-wielding fantasy.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Elves vary greatly in their sleeping needs; for Legolas, he always makes sure you are safe and comfortable before even thinking about dosing off. Sometimes he'll immediately fall asleep, not from exhaustion, but just because of how comfortable he is. Other times, he might be exhausted, but he'll stay up, looking at you dream. He'll go over in his mind what you two just did and how much he loved it.

#legolas #legolas x reader #legolas greenleaf #legolas greenleaf x reader #lotr #lord of the rings #smut #legolas headcanon #legolas imagine

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twola · 1 year

Note

Wanted to say I looovvve how you write Arthur! Since you’re taking requests I was wondering if you’d do something like the nsfw alphabet for him or just general headcanons for him? Thank you:)

I’ve always wanted to do one of these. Thanks for the nudge! For reference, our boah is high-honor for this.

Drop a line and tell me which one is your favorite!

NSFW Alphabet : Arthur Morgan

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He’s usually a panting, groaning mess after orgasm, but as soon as he catches his breath, he’s peppering your face with kisses, heaping praise upon you.

“Such a good girl.” He’ll rumble in those low timbres, his deep voice sex-hoarse as he gently wipes his spend from your skin.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Arthur loves the gentle slope - the long curve of your neck. He loves kissing it, suckling at it, leaving marks and bruises as he not so secretly enjoys you having physical signs that you’re his.

He’s not one to think much of himself, he’s known to degrade himself, but if you were insistent on an answer, he would say his arms. Broad and strong from years of hard living - heaving hunted animals over his shoulder, roping horses, beating men. His arms draw you into the line of his body, wrapping around your waist and keeping you secure and safe.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He’s not an idiot. Not at this point in his life. Having had gotten a girl pregnant and living in proximity to John’s stupidity with Abigail, he knows that the temporary high of spending into a woman wasn’t worth the risk of conceiving a child.

Doesn’t mean he doesn’t wish, want, so much, to spend within your warmth, not to pull himself from you jerkily.

If he were another man, in another life, not running in an outlaw gang - he would love to stay inside, to create life within you - to watch you grow and birth his child. If only. If only.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Big, bad gunslinger - outlaw - criminal, god, he would never hear the end of it if others knew how he whimpers as you nudge that spot beneath his testicles, your fingers pressing against that skin, and it feels so good he could cry.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

While in his later adult years, he has had fewer partners, in his youth, Arthur was a wild stallion. Rolling into a saloon with a sly smile and a bag full of gold coins from a robbery, working women flocked to him, and he certainly enjoyed their company.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Arthur certainly enjoys any way he can have you - and he certainly has enjoyed an array of positions - holding you up against a brick wall in a back alley in Saint Denis, bending you over the table in an empty cabin, watching you gyrate above him- riding him as he fucks up into you.

But deep down, this grisled outlaw is a romantic at heart, though he will never admit it.

He loves the most when you’re underneath him, when he can see your pretty face when you come, when he can spread himself out over you, when you cross your ankles over his hips to draw you in.

In this cruel, hard world, he loves you safe and secure beneath him, where he can shield you from all of its ugliness, if only for a few moments.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Arthur’s sense of humor is notoriously dry, and frankly, it's not brought to the bed, or whatever surface he’s having you on.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Well, it is 1899. And he’s a man that lives out in the wilds. Baths are hard to come by.

But you do enjoy trailing your fingers along the trail of dark hair that begins at his navel and spreads across his pelvis - straight to the chestnut curls at the base of his cock.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Arthur worships you as the two of you fall into bed with one another. God, he told you he loved you before he slept with you - of course the moment is thick with emotion.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Sure, if a job takes him away from you for several days, he’ll get lonely. Arthur will pull the flaps on his small tent and lay himself on his bedroll, unbuttoning his union suit and taking his length in hand, closing his eyes and picturing you there: the way you whine into his ear. The way you clutch at his shoulders, the way you roll your hips to take him deeper. The way you grit out his name as you’re reaching the edge, the way your cunt pulses around him-

He spills over his hand, moaning as he comes down from his high. As he catches his breath and wipes off his hand before tucking himself away, he knows, he knows, that he will have to have the real thing as soon as he returns to you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

For someone with a mind-numbingly high bounty on his head, he should not like getting tied up so much.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Not that he has many options most of the time, his cot within his tent being the normal spot, but he does love to have you in a big bed, naked and squirming on fresh sheets. He takes you to hotels when he can, enjoying the ability to press you down into a soft mattress.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

There’s nothing that gets his blood pumping like successfully pulling off a heist. Riding back into camp loaded down with riches, swinging down off his horse, after depositing the take, he will seek you out, taking you hand in his and kissing it gently before walking you back to his tent and laying you down on his cot.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He may be a killer, a criminal, a bad person. But he does have a code. He has never and will never force himself on a woman. He would never force you to do anything for him if you said no, even though it would be more than easy enough for him to overpower you.

Fortunately for him, you don’t like saying no.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Christ, you wonder as you throw your head back in the pillow, was there anything this man couldn’t do well? He’s between your thighs suckling at your clit, tongue lapping at your entrance, pressing inside you as his warm breath ghosts over your core. Arthur loves diving between your legs, even drawing up your skirts out in the wild and tasting you. And god, is he good at it.

While he likes to give, give, give, he cannot help but groan as you sink to your knees in front of him, babbling near incoherently as you suck his cock until he spills hot and fast down your throat.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends on the setting. If he’s forced to go quickly, it is a brutal, punishing rhythm. But oh, if he’s got you in bed with nothing but time, he savors each slow, long stroke, and the whimpers that drip from your mouth like ambrosia.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Not his favorite. He’d rather take his time to painstakingly take you apart - to feel every inch of you against him, to see and taste and love you. To give you the attention he believes fully you deserve.

But sometimes, the man just needs to be inside you, sheathing his cock in your warm, wet cunt. With your clothes still on and undergarments shoved to the side, Arthur groans as he sinks inside you, wanting never to leave.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’s willing to try just about anything - unless it has the ability to hurt you. You hear talk in the saloons from working girls of acrobatic positions that you tell him about while blushing. He’ll try, as long as its not something that verges on dangerous.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

“I ain’t a teenager any more.” He’ll grumble, but he always, always, draws you to come multiple times before he actually does.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Again, it's 1899. Besides, he thoroughly enjoys bringing you over that edge with his fingers, his tongue, or his cock.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

You wouldn’t say he likes to tease you, but you find it completely unfair when he refuses to let you touch him, drawing orgasm after orgasm from you before he is ready to come himself.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Growing up in an outlaw camp, in close proximity to everyone, Arthur knows how to be quiet. But the second he gets you away, whether out in the wilds or a hotel room, he grunts and moans into your ear, his gravelly voice fading into primal noises the closer he gets.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He doesn’t know why he allowed it to happen - he should have been the one teaching you to shoot. Not Javier.

Or maybe it’s a good idea. He’s not sure how much learning would get done. Not after he’s seen you aim a repeater, tensing against the recoil.

He’d be bending you over the fence that Javier has lined up empty bottles on, pressing inside of you, his little gunslinger.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

As much as he’d deny it, Arthur is not diminished at all when stripped of his clothing. While he’s a bit self-conscious about his stippled and scarred skin, you fully enjoy tracing his life’s story with your fingers or your lips.

Arthur is not a small man. He’s tall and broad shouldered, muscular and solid. The first time you fish his cock from his union suit, a flash of panic shoots through you - how the hell were you supposed to take all of this?

You shouldn’t have worried, considering how much Arthur would work you open with his fingers and tongue before sinking into you - the stretch of him entering you never hurts.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Now, sometimes unfortunately, much like coffee, Arthur awakens and needs to have you to seemingly function. Sleepy, gentle sex as the sun rises lets him get out of bed on the right foot.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Even after bringing both of you to orgasm, panting, breathless, he won’t fall asleep right away. He’ll always have enough energy, at the very least, to clean your skin of his spend and draw you into his embrace, winding your legs around each others’, and holding you close until you both fall asleep, completely satiated.

#red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #red dead fanfic #red dead fandom #rdr2 #arthur morgan smut #rdr2 fanfic #rdr #red dead redemption #tumblr prompt #red dead smut #twolafic #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #voluptatem

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genji-centric · 4 months

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Genji Shimada NSFW Alphabet

MDNI!! Warnings for NSFW under the cut!

A = aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Overwatch Genji is a respectful lover, aftercare always I includes him getting a cloth for you to clean up, a glass of water to drink and of course lots of loving words and thanking you for a great time. During his blackwatch days aftercare would be laying in silence, maybe just leaving you be after the fact. Pre-incident Genji would either be out like a light or leaving, thanking you for a good time but he enjoys being single.

B = body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Genji really can't decide. He loves how your arms wrapped around him, giving him that familiar sense of heat that he often lacks. He loves your eyes and how you look at him with such love even if he's a cyborg. Genji loves how your neck feels on his teeth as he's rutting in and out of you at a furiously fast pace and the taste of iron that spirs him on more. Everything about you is precious to Genji.

C = cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Genji's cum is watery, and has a distinct taste that isn't good but isn't horrible. He has a proper diet, but he doesn't eat many acidic fruits, which could improve the flavor. Genji also cums alot, he can go a solid week without touching himself and he gets pent up because of it. When he cums, his stomach is covered, and you can feel every spurt of it inside of you

D = dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Genji always dreams of what it's like to cause a bit of pain. When he first was experiencing the joys of sex he'd dabble in light bondage and biting but not much more. When he first became a cyborg, that anger festered into more.. out there fantasies, including more hard-core acts such as complete domination and blade play. After he grew to accept himself those thoughts of trying out more painful ways still stuck, when alone he pumps his cock drooling at the thought of forcing you into a chokehold while clawing into your sides drawing blood. One day, he wishes to try it, but for now, he wants to keep you happy, not bring you any pain.. yet.

D = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Genji was a major player in his younger days. Girls loved to flock around him, and Genji never was alone. He gained alot of experience, knowing all the right ways to make a woman cum around his cock and he takes pride in that. Even after the accident, he still knows all the exact pinpoints to make anyone crumble beneath him if he desired it.

D = favorite position (this goes without saying)

Genji likes a lot of ways to do it, mating press gives him a perfect view of your face and total control over you. He likes cowgirl when he's feeling a bit lazy and wants to enjoy the show. But Genji's absolute favorite is you pressed against a wall, him allowed to ram into you at any pace he likes while feeling your legs grow weak. He loves how you rely on him to keep you up, and he loves how he can press you into the wall at any time for easy access no matter where you two are.

G = goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Overwatch and pre-incident Genji can be playful, always teasing you and making you feel a little embarrassed before ripping a moan out of you. He can be a jerk, but the way he keeps you feeling good makes it acceptable and, in fact, something you look forward to. Blackwatch Genji is totally serious. He never jokes outside of the bedroom, so why would it be different? He's mean, constantly belittling you and blaming you for how he feels. So just take it and let him let out that anger, he'll make it feel good.

H = hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Genji always kept himself trimmed, not totally shaved because he thought it looked weird but enough to keep it under control and presentable. His pubes are black, and around that area, he doesn't have any hair.

I = intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Pre-incident Genji is not romantic at all. He's there to get his rocks off, but everything else comes second. Including you, he will make you cum out of curtesy but don't expect him to whisper sweet nothings in your ear. Blackwatch Genji is mean, he's so mean during the act. Any shred of intimacy you think is there is replaced by harsh insults and biting. Genji's romantic side only comes out after he finds himself, after he accepts what he was. He realizes that you truly care about him if you look past his mostly metal body, and Genji takes true affection from that. Expect to have crazy passionate, needy sex with him all the time. It had been so long since he had last felt the touch of another person he will make it special every time it happens.

J = jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Genji is a needy man. Back when he was active a lot, he never needed to use his hand, but after becoming a cyborg, that lack of action got to him. He would jerk off 2-3 times a day, at least. He didn't care if it hurt because at least the feeling distracts him from everything else. As Genji grew more accepting, he tones it down to maybe twice a day, one in his morning shower and the other before bed. He only uses his still human hand, and the metal hurts. (He's tried)

K = kink (one or more of their kinks)

Genji is a very kinky individual. He's tried a lot of positions, kinks including the more taboo ones. He really enjoys bondage, knife play, marking, free use, blood play, and pet play. Pet play was something he tried once and really enjoyed, the idea of having his own little pet on a leash abiding to his every command made him harder than he thought he could be. Genji also loves being edged when he's in a more sub mood, feeling you bring him so close then removing your hand just as he feels that coil begin to snap gets him hard. He's whimpering and groaning each time he's brought to the edge. Make him cum and he's moaning loudly, edging makes cumming that much better and it's a favorite of his.

L = location (favorite places to do the do)

Simple. Anywhere. Genji has always been a bit of a voyeur. He's done it outside and in public alleyways. The risk is what gets him going, the idea that anyone could see you like that makes him insatiable and want to claim you as his even harder. He has good hearing and a great reaction time, so you don't really have to worry about anyone seeing you.

M = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Genji is simple, offer the idea he's on board and stripping his pants off while tackling you. Wear something tight or revealing, and he will not look away and will definitely initiate when given the chance to.

N = no (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Genji does not like praise or being mocked. He's okay with how he is. Overdone praise makes him remember the state of his body, and he hates it. Mock him for it, and it's over. He just can't focus on the act when your words are replaying through his head. Genji also doesn't like the sounds of being hurt himself. He's in enough pain as it is, and he doesn't need more.

O = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Genji loves it both ways. When he was younger, he was selfish and liked the feeling of a warm mouth bob up and down his shaft, but now he can appreciate his lover. Genji lives to hear any whines and groans come out of you. His mouth is still human, and he treasures it. Tasting you feels like heaven, and he's proud every time you come on his tongue. Feeling your legs close around him feels so hot, choke him with your thighs a bit and he's coming hands free.

P = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Genji had always been the same. He likes it fast and rough. He has the stamina too, so why not use it? Genji lives to make you go dumb around his cock, the fast speed making the pleasure feel even better to him and you. Genji loves things to be fast and intense. Passionate sex is the best when rough and overwhelming.

Q = quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Genji loves the idea of them but they never do stay quickies, he lives initiating one under the saying 'only one round' and soon that quickly turns to 3 and whatever plans you had gone just like your energy as Genji fucks the 5th orgasm out of you. Genji loves you so much, and once he gets a taste, he's not going to stop.

R = risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Genji is always down for something new, no matter how taboo or strange he'll give it a try. It's how he learned his favorite kinks, so what's more experience? He will try anything once as long as it doesn't cross either of your boundaries.

S = stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Before becoming a cyborg, he was pretty good with stamina to begin with. He could make it 2 or 3 rounds before having to stop, each round being average in length, but he made up for it in his experience. After becoming a cyborg, his stamina is near infinite. Genji can go for as many rounds as he wants, and if you're okay with it, he's happy to use you for hours on end.

T = toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn't use toys, open to trying them but he'd much rather make you cum from his fingers then a vibrator anyday of the week. But with enough asking, he might allow a dildo to be used on him to expierence the feeling.

U = unfair (how much they like to tease)

Genji is the definition of unfair, edging you is a garuntee and making loving jabs at you only adds to the lust and frustration you feel at him. He can be such a tease in the hottest ways, he can seductively whisper sweet nothings in your ear as you spar in the morning and leave you no chance of getting back at him all day. He then always makes dun of you for being so desperate, yet he started it.

V = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Genji is LOUD. Do you know how he sounds like when being frozen or burned? Yeah, he's louder. He's always saying something or grunting in your ear. But can you blame him? You feel so good, and he needs to let you know how close he gets from you alone.

W = wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Genji definitely has a habit of smelling your clothes. It's a sense that reminds him of his humanity and the fact it's your smell it gets him going. His imagination goes wild when you're away, and a spare pair of underwear is there calling his name. He definitely will cum on them and leave you them to find.

X = x-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Genji's cybernetic parts stop above the waistband of his boxers, the metal legs only begin 3/4 up his right thigh and his left knee down. The rest is made of flesh, so he can still jerk off as much as he wants with everything still in tact. Genji's cock stands at an average 5.5 inches with a dusty rose tip, he takes care of it and he's clean.

Y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Genji is the most down bad hero. He's game for it anytime and anywhere. Never one moment goes by that the thought of you flashes his mind. If he focuses on those thoughts, he's hard and bothered and definitely will track you down to help.

Z = zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Genji, before the accident, would fall asleep quickly afterward. He didn't care much about aftercare and more about how tired he felt. Now that Genji is a cyborg, sleep isn't really needed. He more sleeps out of habit, over necessity. Genji often watches you sleep, he loves how at peace you look and how you trust him enough to sleep beside him. Genjiw catches you for a while before drifting off to sleep himself, happy about how amazing his partner is.

#overwatch #overwatch x reader #genji shimada #genji shimada x reader

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crazyk-imagine · 1 year

Text

Eddie’s Ted Talks

Pairing: Eddie “The Freak” Munson x Plus!size!reader Characters: Eddie “The Freak” Munson, Plus!size!reader, Robin Buckley, Steve “The Hair” Harrington

Briefly mentioned: Keith, Jason Carver, Dustin Henderson Warnings: Eddie being a goddamn sweetheart, reader having bad thoughts about oneself, Jason being a dick ofc, Keith is weird pass it on, Hawkins rebuilt the video store, Steve and Robin are forever coworkers!!! Word Count: 2,574

*So, I've been really really depressed lately. I'm a little on the chubby side and it gets me down even worse. I really hate how I look I'd like an Eddie fanfic where the reader is feeling how I feel, and Eddie finds this out and is like "UM EXCUSE ME NO" and goes on this huge tangent about how amazing the reader is, how beautiful they are and then he accidentally confesses his feelings to the reader. That would just be MMMMM yes please 😩

Requested by @bubblegumfanfics

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You sigh, flopping back onto your bed, ignoring everybody’s calls.

So, maybe you should have told someone you were going home and not in the mood to talk because you feel like absolute shit- correction, you’re depressed because you’re a curvy girl who gets bullied because of this “flaw”.

Sometimes you wish you had powers like your d n d character, to take down your main bully, jock Jason aka douche.

Today wasn’t a good day for you, at all. It also didn’t help that Eddie was being exceptionally… Eddie.

Sure, he’s touchy, always wanting to give you a hug and playing with your hair but him latching onto you and pretending to not want to share you with anyone else, fed into what douche had implanted into your head earlier this morning, leaving you with the only option of completely ditching your friends.

Part of you feels bad for not talking to anyone prior to you leaving, especially your girl Robin. She always knows how to help you through one of these moments.

Today though, today she couldn’t and not because she doesn’t want to but rather, she and Dustin had to keep Eddie from trying to murder Jason while Steve was trying to be the “only” responsible one and talk with the kid since they “have more in common than anyone else in the group” … it didn’t help.

Robin’s head drops on the counter of the cash register at her latest job, the newly rebuilt video store since the last one “mysteriously” burned down even though everyone knows it was Keith who was trying to do some kinky stuff and freaked out. “Eddie,” she raises her head, “would it kill you to shut up?”

“Yes.” He turns to her. “It would, right after I explode and turn into confetti because you two” he points to Steve and Robin. “Want me to confess to the most beautiful girl there is in Hawkins.” He glances over at the female, “no offense.”

She narrows her eyes to him, none taken. I mean, you’re not wrong.”

“I never said I was.”

It takes him a moment to process what she said. “What does that mean?”

Robin pauses, no longer able to restock the shelves, “no-nothing. I was just- I’m her friend, you know. It’d be wrong of me, as her friend, to not acknowledge that she’s pretty because she is, and I can see why you like her so much.”

Steve watches all of this going down with his hand over his mouth, barely able to keep his chuckles to himself. "What are you laughing at Harrington?"

"You mean, other than the fact that you can't talk to the one girl you've managed to not get to hate you, nothing."

"Don't make me give you a haircut when you're sleeping." All and any humor Steve had, immediately disappeared. "That's not funny, Eddie."

"I'm not trying to be funny," the metal head gives his friend a sarcastic smile.

"God, I still don't know how she finds you attractive."

That comment automatically draws the metal heads' attention onto him. "I'm sorry what? Who finds what attractive now?"

"I'm so dead," the ex-party king whines as his head drops onto the counter.

“Yeah, you are dingus.”

His head snaps up. “You’re not helping Robin.”

She smirks, shrugging her shoulders without caring about his upset tone. “I know. That’s why it’s funny.”

He narrows his eyes at her, silently plotting how to get her back... maybe he can tell Vicky to prank her or something. All he knows is that whatever future Steve plans is gonna take a lot of thinking... he can already hear the sarcastic jabs coming from Robin in his head.

Eddie’s brain is overloaded right now, he has absolutely no idea what to think and doesn’t know if he’s gonna be able to function when he sees you.

But that’s not stopping his body from moving and heading straight for the door.

"Anyway, I'm going to sleep now. Alone. Away from you two." He spins around and runs out the door. “Nobody follow me.”

“Out of the two of us, who do you think she’s going to want to kill first?”

“Robin!”

“You can’t tell me, I’m wrong when you’ve been thinking the same thing I have.”

“Me,” he whines.

“Good, so we’re on the same page,” she pats his shoulder. “I’ll write you a heartfelt eulogy.”

He paces back and forth along your poorly lit porch. He needs to keep himself busy while he thinks of the right words to say.

You open the door with your heavy bag of trash, grumbling under your breath about how you constantly remind your parents not to stuff the bag until they can’t no more because you are just one person (one non-muscley person) and do they listen, no.

You look up and let out a frightened scream, which Eddie also makes. You place a hand over your heart and lean against the wall. “What the hell are you doing here- hey, the light’s fixed.”

He (shamelessly) checks you out, now that he knows the truth, he’s going to be as obvious as he can now about his feelings.

You know, until he can find the proper words to tell you he likes you.

“Yeah, I- uh,” he scratches his head. “I just fixed it. You shouldn’t be walking around in the dark. Aren’t your parents concerned about your dates bringing you home when it’s this dark?”

You shake your head and start to reach for the trash bag when Eddie “snatches” it from you. “Ed, it’s heavy. Just let me do this so I can go back to my bed.”

“No,” he shakes his head. “I got this.” He carries it with ease. “You forget, babe. I’m the one who has to load the van with our band equipment.”

You didn’t pay attention to the sweet nickname since he always calls you sweetheart, maybe today he just wanted to change things. You lift the lid of the garbage bin.

He makes a show of wanting you to walk in front of him.

You roll your eyes (not wanting to hear him whine about you not participating).

“Okay, thank you for walking me to my front door. You can go home now.” You try to close the door, but he stops you. “Eddie-”

“I just got some information that I’m still trying to figure out right now, but I can’t and I- I needed to see you before I got in my head.”

“Oh.” You open the door wider for him before closing it and locking it. “Are you okay, Ed? I’ve never seen you like this unless it’s about what you should do at the next d n d meet.”

"Uh- yeah. Yeah. They're fine."

“I was asking if you’re fine, not the kids. Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” You place the back of your hand on his forehead.

He melts on the spot, staring into your... pretty... gorgeous... magical eyes. “Do you like me?”

You pause, eyes trailing down to meet his. “What?” You screech, unable to figure where this thought came from.

Eddie has not been able to figure out that you like him back (yes, you know he likes you but, there are a few things that get you to stop when you want to confess to his adorable ass).

“Do you like me? I mean, I’ve dreamed about this before and every time I do, you wind up telling me no and then it fades to black and I wake up so if you do end up telling me now, I’m hoping it’ll fade to black so I can wake up from this nightmare I call a confession.”

You take a step back. ‘I can’t do this right now. I need to go upstairs and hide in my bed.’ You walk away from him and walk upstairs to your room, burrowing into your sheets.

Eddie furrows his brows and follows you, not sure where this is going (after he shakes off the idea of you trying to seduce him). “Now, I’m the one who’s going to ask. Are you feeling, okay?” He sits on the corner of your bed. “What happened back there?”

“Nothing. You can go home now.”

“Hey, hey.” He walks around to the other side, realizing that you’re facing the window in your room instead of your closet. He squats down in front of you, slowly pushing the sheets back to see your beautiful face. “Are you okay?”

You nod as tears drip down to the side of your face.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” He has an idea about what could be going on with you, he remembers when he and Steve were left alone to hangout after Robin had to leave to help you because of “girl things” and then Steve kindly explained things in a nice way for him to understand.

“Nothing, you should just go home.”

“You know,” he kindly ignores your pleas knowing he can help you understand a couple of things. “I think I’ve been patient and I need an answer before it fades to black, and I wake up.”

You lift your damp and tear-stricken lashes to stare at his adorable smiling self. “Ed, I’m not... it wouldn’t work.”

“Why not, sweetheart?”

“I’m just- I’m so and you’re so.”

“Which means we can be so so together.”

“No,” you whine, burrowing deeper into your sheets. "You don't get it." You throw the sheets back, so he can see your face. "I mean, why would you? You're so hot and I'm not. It wouldn't work, the not hot fatty and the absolutely hot future d n d rocker. It doesn't make sense."

There's a moment of silence as Eddie's brain tries to catch up with what you said.

"Did you call me hot?"

"What?"

"You called me hot." The smile falls from his face, "but why didn't you call yourself that?"

"Eddie."

"No, no. Don't you even try to fight me on this because you are. I mean, you have no idea how many times everyone has had to wipe my face dry because of how much I drool over you. You are- I mean you're- you're a ray of sunshine I need to keep me going and you're hugs. God- your hugs. I mean, don't get me wrong I love everything else about you, but your hugs are out of this world, babe."

You don't say anything and let him continue. He scratches his head and stares at the ground.

"It's crazy how you don't notice you're drawing everyone's attention onto you. I've had detention because some guy was staring at your perfectly round ass."

"What?" You push yourself up, letting your head rest against your shoulder so your cheek is squished as you watch him.

"Yeah, I mean, that's why I wasn't able to get you a couple of times. I still feel bad about that, by the way. But I mean," he turns his head back to face you. "I consider myself lucky because I got to make it up to you and hangout without the others."

He stretches his hand to brush away the hair that covers your warm cheek, which becomes worse as he brushes his thumb against it. "You're so pretty, sweetheart. I hope you know that."

You pull away and frown.

"No, no, no. Don't pull away from me." He crawls up onto the bed, lying beside you. "Why don't you think we'd be great together?"

"It's not that we wouldn't be great together, I just- I'm not the one for you."

"You keep talking about your weight, why?"

"Because that's all anyone ever talks about at school when they see me. Douche keeps hounding me because of it! And I just want it to stop, you know," you cover your mouth, taking a deep shaky breath as you try to calm down.

A gentle hand removes your hand. "Hey, hey," he coos at you. "Can you open your eyes for me?"

You shake your head.

"It'd be beneficial for you... I think you're rubbing off on me, babe. I just used a big word. I don't even think I've used that in an essay."

You chuckle along with him, opening your eyes to see him staring at you with the same soft smile you have stretching the corners of your lips.

“If I ask you out, will you reject me?”

“Are you going mean it?”

He grabs your hand and places it over his heart. “I wouldn’t be this nervous if I didn’t mean it.”

“But-”

“But nothing. I like you and you like me, right?”

“I mean, yeah.”

“No, no. I want to hear it from you. Use your words.”

You cup his cheek, staring into his eyes before pulling him down to kiss him. “I like you... a lot,” you mumble against his lips.

“I know, I just wanted to hear you say it.” He flops onto his back beside you. “Oh my god.”

“What?”

“You know this means you’re my girlfriend, right?”

“Hmm, that doesn’t sound right.”

“This whole confession thing implied that you’re my girl. I’m not letting you go.”

You scoff and shove him, accidentally pushing him off the bed. “I still don’t buy it.”

He crawls back onto the bed, coming closer to you.

You try to move and stop when he crawls over you, laying his head on your chest, resting on your heart.

“I can hear how fast your heart is beating.”

“You just wanted an excuse to lay on me.”

“No, this is cuddling. It’s what couples do.”

“Whatever,” you tell him as you scratch his head.

He lifts his head, "will you be my girlfriend?"

You nod. “Yes, you dork."

"Good." He leans up, moving up your body. "And since we're officially going out. It's my duty as your boyfriend to make my very hot," he pecks your left cheek.

"And sexy," he kisses your other cheek. "And smart, no, I mean brilliant," he pecks your forehead.

"Absolutely amazing and adorable girlfriend feel better whenever she's feeling down so whenever you're feeling the way you did today, you tell me so I can do something because I don't want to hear that you don't feel confident or hot or beautiful because you are. Believe me you are."

He seals his self-made promise to you with a kiss. "Now, I'm gonna take a nap because this confession thing was very tiring, and I require more head scratches."

You roll your eyes at his joke. "Can you at least put some music on or turn the TV on? Otherwise, I'm gonna take a nap."

"I'll put on music but at a low volume so we can nap together. Aw."

"What?" You ask as you adjust your bed so you can get comfy.

"This is our first thing we're doing as a couple."

"Oh boy," you mutter. "I regret everything that's happened in the last ten minutes."

He takes his shoes and jacket off before bouncing on your bed. "No, you don't."

"I guess you're right."

"I'm glad we can agree on something, sweetheart." He returns to his rightful place and wraps his arms around your torso.

"Aw man."

He lifts his head, staring at you. "What?"

"I have to pee."

"And as soon as I got comfortable."