#i wrote this instead of my bang fic

[queerofthedagger]

reeling through the midnight streets

[Steddie | T+ | no warnings | ao3]

Written for @steddie-week day 2; bittersweet + fluff/angst (a bit of all of those)

-

“God, I used to have such a crush on you,” Eddie says, all casual. “Back in ’86, I mean.”

To Steve, the words feel like a car crash. They are said easily, mirthfully, but they change something fundamental about the space around them; Eddie’s cozy, clustered living room, the languid air between them. About those years—eight exactly—between now and the one that Eddie is so carelessly flinging in his general direction.

As if he doesn’t care whether it lands or not.

“What,” Steve chokes out, delayed, and it’s a wonder his voice doesn’t break.

From across the room, lying sideways in a worn armchair, Eddie raises a brow. “Oh, come on, you already know that I’m bi, you’re cool with Robin and Nancy—“

“What,” Steve repeats, and his voice lilts up at the end there, going tinny. He feels like he’d stuck his hand into a socket, and not in a hot way. “That is absolutely the last fucking thing I care about, man. In case you’ve missed the casual-but-entirely-on-purpose way I’d referred to my fucking ex-boyfriend—this isn’t even the point. What the fuck did you just say?”

Finally, through the haze of an evening full of weed and whiskey, Eddie seems to clock that his words may have not landed as casually as he had been aiming for.

Whatever the fuck he had been thinking.

“Look, it’s not that big of a deal, yeah? I was young and impressible, and you’d basically saved my life; easy for the poor queer kid to develop an unfortunate crush on the golden knight in shining armor.”

Steve laughs, a hollow sound. He leans forward on the couch and runs a hand through his hair. Looks back up at Eddie, at the faint but genuine confusion in his eyes, and knows that this isn’t a joke or an attempt to fuck with him.

Steve swallows. “You know, I always thought…”

He cannot finish the sentence. His mind isn’t clear enough for this, their spontaneous Friday night hangout turning a bit less casual when Eddie found a bottle of whiskey—coincidentally, of course, Stevie, what do you take me for—as if for old time’s sake.

He wonders if Eddie had planned this. If Steve’s the idiot, for not being able to laugh about it, too. For feeling like the words have wrapped themselves around the cage of his ribs like a fist, waiting to close.

“What,” Eddie laughs softly, not unkindly. “That I viewed you as some untouchable thing, the babysitter?”

“God you’re—“ making it worse, with each and every word. Steve clears his throat. “I always thought, you know, if you hadn’t left. I thought we could’ve been…”

Something. Anything. A fucked-up thing breaking after a year because they both didn’t know what to do with themselves, much less someone else in their life. Something good, something solid, the way their friendship had been.

Just. Something. Something more than broken promises and dwindling phone calls, than running into each other by chance in goddamn Colorado Springs, 1995, after years of no contact.

Across from him, Eddie is finally paying attention, sitting up straight in the armchair and looking at Steve the way Steve feels on the inside; raw and flayed open, like he’s coming apart.

There is a ringing at the base of his skull that sounds exactly like the one that had clung to him those first few weeks, months—too long—after Eddie had left.

“We could have been what, Steve.”

Steve laughs again, shakes his head. “Come on, don’t make me say it.”

A part of him had always thought that Eddie must have known, even as Steve had barely understood it himself. There was only so much sharing the same bed night after night, so much of fingers always reaching for skin, all casual, so many heavy silences and heavier confessions disguised as something else that could happen before—

He’d always thought that Eddie must have known. That he had looked at Steve, weighed him up against everything else, and decided it wasn’t quite worth the trouble.

“No, I think I need you to say it, actually,” Eddie says, his fingers restless on his rings.

In the dim light of three am, he looks so much like the Eddie that had haunted Steve’s sleep for years, he almost believes that this is nothing but a nightmare.

It makes him bristle, an old habit still not properly buried. “Weren’t you the one who just said it wasn’t a big deal?”

Always a bitch when things get too close for comfort, Steve; it’s something Eddie once knew, too.

“It didn’t,” Eddie allows, lifting one shoulder into a shrug. “Then you made it a thing.”

“I made it a thing? Jesus, Eddie, you’re—“ He bites down on the words, keeping them from spilling over—an eternity of longing bleeding all over Eddie’s faded rug.

It’s taken so long to get over it, the sudden leaving, the following silence. The helpless compassion in Robin’s eyes, Nancy’s pursed lips, the hours Steve had spent staring at his stupid fucking phone. The lingering phantom sensation of Eddie’s blood still on his hands, of Eddie curling around him in his sleep, of his fingers against Steve’s skin.

It’s taken so long, but Steve had managed. Had a couple of more or less successful relationships, found a job, is settled now. Hell, his current relationship has been going steady for months.

He looks up, holds Eddie’s eyes. Each and every word burns like acid on its way through his throat. “I was so in love with you, it fucked me up for a year when you left, Munson.”

Eddie’s eyes widen, his entire body going still. Steve stops paying attention, instead getting up and grabbing his jacket. He has to get out of here, away from the dim light and Bowie playing in the background, the half-empty whiskey bottle and Eddie. Most of all from Eddie.

His life is good. It had taken a while, had taken an entire rearrangement of the pieces left in the wake of Nancy and Eddie and all the pains of being a teenager with absent parents and an alternate dimension dogging his steps, but he’d done it.

He thought it’d be fine to let Eddie Munson shove his way back into Steve’s life. It will be. He just—he needs—

“Steve—“

“It’s fine,” he says, plastic smile spreading across his face instinctively. He fixes his eyes somewhere to Eddie’s right. “Don’t worry about it, I got over it ages ago. Just, you know—I have a date with Nora tomorrow anyway, and I—“

He hasn’t lied this poorly in years. Eddie looks at him like he did in 1987, when he’d left Hawkins for good.

Steve runs a hand across his face and drops the smile for a smaller, more honest one. “Give it a couple of days, yeah? I’ll get over it; I always do.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer this time, slips out of the flat to let the cool mountain air wash over him, breathe and breathe and breathe until every muscle in his body stops feeling like a faulty live wire.

---

In the light of sober morning, Steve’s first impulse is to skip town.

His second is to grit his teeth, get up, and deal with his hangover. It doesn’t exactly lessen the hot-faced shame, but then, he has an inkling that nothing but time will do that.

He allows himself a couple of days to mull it over—he’s not sulking, Robin, thank you very much. To meet Nora for dinner and remind himself that he isn’t the same heartbroken, left-behind kid that he had been at twenty, and that Eddie may have barreled right past all of Steve’s carefully crafted defenses last night, but that it doesn’t mean that he is still a scalpel sliding into the soft parts of Steve’s heart.

It is a week until he picks up the phone. He refuses to feel guilty about it—there really were approximately thirty better ways Eddie could have gone about dropping that particular revelation.

They meet at a coffee shop close to the record store where Eddie works and make it through the slightly awkward greetings and orders, taking their drinks to go. Spring sunlight is finally crawling over the mountains in the distance, and even though the wind is still chilly, it’s like coming back alive.

“So,” Eddie says, once they’ve turned left into a small park. He glances over at Steve, a sharp crease between his brows, and then squares his shoulders. “I’m not going to apologize.”

Steve hadn’t exactly planned any of this through; it was the only way to avoid overthinking what he wanted—and didn’t want—Eddie to say. The declaration still makes him clench his teeth to keep the first and the second answer from slipping out.

Eddie stops on the narrow path, turning to look at Steve. There is something severe to him, the harsh twist of his mouth pulling at the faded scars. “What did you want me to do, Steve; the entire town still hated me, and even before it did, Hawkins never had a particularly shining future in store for me—“

“Unlike for me, you mean?” Steve scoffs, bitterness creeping into his tone.

It’s not how this is supposed to go. He isn’t supposed to still be so godforsaken hurt, is supposed to take the whiskey-hazy night and laugh it off, bury it the same way he had buried all of those sugar-spun dreams for their future, back in 1987.

Eddie shrugs, but he’s too tense for it to look casual. “Yeah, maybe; doesn’t really matter at the end of the day, does it?”

Steve lets his gaze travel through the sorry excuse of a park, sickly-looking trees blocking out the Rockies.

“Yeah,” he laughs, dropping his half-empty cup into the nearest trash. “What does it matter, at the end of the day.”

“Steve…”

“No, I know, it’s—“ He runs a hand through his hair, pulls himself together. He looks back at Eddie and he’s still frowning, the seriousness sitting wrong on his face. “Did you ever—I mean... I could have come with you. You could have asked.”

There is a beat of silence during which Eddie’s face goes blank, and then it crumbles with something so wildly hurt that Steve wants to take it back, shove the words back down his throat and let them rot there.

“Fuck, Steve, don’t you think I wanted to?”

And because Steve can never leave well enough alone, he asks, “Why didn’t you?”

Eddie smiles, a distorted, sad thing that makes Steve regret every step that has brought them here.

“Well, I wish that I could whip out the big selfless story, but truth be told—I don’t know. I think… I mean, do you think we would have made it? That we were ready for… That we wouldn’t have fucked off to Chicago or New York or wherever with Robin, that we wouldn’t have torn each other and ourselves apart with how…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence. He doesn’t need to. After all, they are standing hundreds of miles away, hundreds of days later, and are still choking on the same aching enormity of it.

Steve closes his eyes. Breathes in, out, and keeps his hands very, very still to stop them from reaching out.

“Yeah,” he finally says, his voice hoarse. “Yeah, we would have fucked it up.”

This time, the silence drags on, a moment of impenetrable mourning for everything that never was, never will be.  

Eventually, Eddie visibly shakes himself, his eyes careful on Steve’s face. “At least this way, we still get to be friends, right? Took a while and a few detours, but much better than ending up hating each other’s guts and having to split custody of the kids.”

“Friends, yeah,” Steve agrees, forcing a smile. He doesn’t ask, isn’t this what we have been doing? Avoiding each other for years, splitting time, making excuses and now, finally, pretending that we can be fine, a clean slate? All the pain of breakup, just with a story about missed opportunity, rather than doomed romance. All broken heart and no ready explanation for it.

It’s not pretense, though, he reminds himself. They’re fine. It’s good; he wants Eddie back in his life, and it’s not—

They’re not in love anymore. There’s no reason why they shouldn’t manage to be friends, this time around.

“Come on,” he says, nudging their shoulders together and swallowing down the relief washing across Eddie’s face like pain relief. “Let’s get a drink, yeah? To old friends, and all that rot.”

Eddie laughs, nudges him back, and it’s fine. It’ll be fine.

---

Eventually, inevitably, things go back to normal. Time passes, and while that particular night, that particular revelation, settles into the marrow of Steve’s bones as if to stay there for the rest of his days, they fall back into their usual rhythm easily.

Time passes, and he and Nora break up because sooner or later, that’s how all of his relationships end. Eddie gets drunk with him about it, both of them lying sprawled across his living room floor, fingers brushing, and Steve thinks about kissing him but doesn’t, so it’s all fine. It’s all utterly, perfectly fine.

---

Except that it’s not.

They aren’t teenagers anymore, so they no longer share a bed on flimsy excuses or live in each other’s pockets the same way, but their lives merge and tangle more and more as late summer washes everything golden and languid.

They meet after work and Eddie listens as Steve rants about his coworkers, and they drive up to Denver where Eddie plays the occasional gig. Steve teaches Eddie how to cook something more elaborate than pasta, and Eddie shows Steve how to fix his car himself.

They talk; about the time in between, about why Eddie left and why Steve didn’t, for so long. The kids visit and Dustin is over the moon as if he’s still fifteen and desperate for them to get along.

They’re not teenagers anymore, but as autumn tapers out, the nights already chilling up here, Steve knows that he’s falling in love again. That he should do something about it, because he has gotten his heart broken once already, and how he doesn’t.

---

Except.

They make the drive to San Francisco for New Year because one of those bands Eddie is ridiculously into is playing a show, and Nancy and Robin are in London for their anniversary. Steve just knows that if he didn’t have proper plans, Robin would have felt bad at least half the time instead of enjoying herself.

Not that he minds; many of those big, official holidays have lost some of their appeal throughout their teenage years—4th of July, Halloween, Christmas in the final showdown—and he likes San Francisco well enough.

He likes Eddie a little too much, but at least it’s good to see him happy; Steve already knows that he and his heart are a lost cause.

Except. When the clock is about to strike midnight, Eddie is standing close, the crowd around them a living, breathing thing. The lights go kaleidoscope around them, the bass thrumming through the floor, up Steve’s legs, and Eddie is still the only thing in the whole room he wants to look at—messy hair, glitter on his face, and cherry-pink lips from some abomination of a drink and all.

Eddie takes a step closer as the front man yells the ten of the countdown.

“Hey.”

Steve’s throat is dry. His head is swimming from too many shots and Eddie’s proximity both, from the electric current setting his blood alight.

“Hey,” he says, and it comes out hoarse, unsteady. Eddie’s fingers tangle in the front of Steve’s shirt, and Steve—

Steve knows what’s about to happen next. The crowd shouts the five, and Eddie is smiling, eyes wide and warm and lovely. Steve loves him so much that he won’t survive the second time that Eddie Munson breaks his heart.

Three. Eddie’s hand curls around Steve’s hip. Steve thinks of the tail-end of 1987. Of 1988.

Two. Steve remembers the bathroom floor, Robin’s arms around him, the glaring headaches from too much alcohol.

One. It might be different this time. Eddie leans in.

But what if it’s not.

At point midnight, Steve turns his head away. Eddie’s attempt at a kiss land on his cheek and he steps back. Perhaps it’s not his heart, but something within him breaks at the look on Eddie’s face.

He forces a smile, forces himself to lean back in so he can speak over the noise around them. Forces words past his throat that taste like ashen betrayal, pretending that he isn’t choking on the burn of it.

“I’m so glad we’re friends, dude! To another year, right?”

He doesn’t hear Eddie’s answer if there is one. For the first time in a long time, Steve Harrington runs.

---

The drive back to Colorado Springs is one of the most uncomfortable experiences in Steve’s memory, and he’d once been friends with his ex-girlfriend and the guy she’d replaced him with.

Neither he nor Eddie acknowledge what had happened, how Steve couldn’t bring himself to return to their hotel until early morning, and how, when he finally did, Eddie had clearly faked being asleep.

They should be better than this by now, older and wiser and more mature, but Steve keeps his eyes fixed firmly on the road, and Eddie keeps his anywhere that isn’t Steve. They only talk when absolutely necessary, and if it wasn’t for years of carting the loudest bunch of annoying little dipshits around, Steve’s pretty certain that the utter distraction of it all would have made him crash the car.

By the time he finally pulls up in front of Eddie’s apartment complex, every part of him feels like he did.

“Steve—“

“I’ll call,” he cuts in. “I just—I need to catch up on sleep, yeah?”

He can feel Eddie looking at him, and he knows that he’s being unreasonable and stupid and, most importantly, a massive fucking asshole. He still cannot bring himself to look back.

The door closing softly is a gunshot, bullet to the heart.

---

Steve doesn’t call. He stares at his goddamn phone for three days, and every time he thinks that he’ll be able to use it, he sees Eddie’s face again, bright and glittering and hopeful, leaning in. Tired and haggard, telling Steve that he’s leaving, that he needs to make it on his own. Every time, hope sparks in the pit inside his chest, and every time, he still feels the phantom pain, the cold bathroom tiles beneath his cheeks, the brutal loneliness high in his throat.

Robin comes back, and it takes him two days to tell her, but when he finally does, she simply hugs him, saying, “It’s fair enough if you don’t want to get hurt again.”

Steve’s not sure if it is about it being worth it, really. Eddie’s worth the world, is worth the risk and the hurt and all those years that Steve has been walking around with a hole inside his chest that has only started to close recently.

He still can’t pick up the phone, the mere idea of Eddie’s voice a warning twist of the scalpel, each and every time.

---

They don’t talk to each other for three months. Steve would love to say that it becomes easier after that first week; it proves the point of his serrated fear, at least, that it doesn’t, so he wins either way.

Except, all of it feels like losing.  All of it feels like 1987 all over, except that this time, Steve can’t even blame it all on Eddie, can’t even rant and rant and rant to Robin about how Eddie’s an asshole and have her agree while she holds his hair as he’s throwing up his heart at 5 am.

Steve’s caught between past and future, and meanwhile, the present is slipping him by. He goes to work, does his chores, goes through the motions. He goes running, long, grueling runs up and down Colorado Spring’s hills until his legs shake because it’s the only thing bar drugs that shuts up his brain for a couple of moments.

He avoids all the places that he knows Eddie frequents, as well as the ones that Eddie knows he usually searches out. It feels like 1987 but flipped on its head. Steve hasn’t been this miserable since— well.

1987.

Winter melts into Spring again. He remembers, ‘God, you know, I used to have such a crush on you, back in ‘86.’ He remembers nights spent on the floor of Eddie’s living room, the way Eddie still talks with his hands when animated but how it is missing the anxious edge, these days. How he’s still passionate about music and DnD and the frankly ludicrous number of books littering his apartment, but how he listens now, too, when Steve talks, instead of drifting off into his own head, helpless.

He thinks of the past and of changing, of the embers of anger he has carried for almost a decade. Thinks that he hasn’t been a coward for longer than that, and that they deserve—

Well, either they deserve one last chance, or he finally deserves closure.

More or less exactly one year after he fled Eddie’s flat for the first time, he rings the doorbell, bottle of whiskey in hand and heart in his throat. As he waits, he prays and prays and prays that they haven’t finally fucked it up for good.

---

Eddie looks surprised for all of three seconds before his expression gentles into something softer. “Steve. Hey.”

“Can I come in?”

There is a fraction of hesitation, Eddie’s eyes flickering from Steve’s face to the bottle of whiskey; it’s just long enough for a spike of doubt, but then Eddie nods and steps aside.

The silence as they walk into the kitchen is awkward, but less stifling than Steve would have expected. He waits until Eddie nods at one of the chairs, a wordless question, and they both settle at the table. It takes a lot of effort to keep from proposing a few rounds of shots first, from throwing over all his carefully laid-out speeches and ask questions instead—like, why did you let me in, why aren’t you angry, why haven’t you called if you aren’t?

Apologies have never been Steve’s strongest suit, but he still does none of those things. He straightens his spine instead and looks straight at Eddie when he says, “I’m sorry, I’ve been an asshole on—and since—New Year.”

Eddie’s lips twitch as if any of this is funny. “Yeah, you were. You needed time, though; I get it.”

That… is not how this script is supposed to go. Steve frowns and traces the lines in the wood of the table. “Is that what you think, is that what I needed? I was just…”

If he’d hoped that Eddie would fill in the blanks for him, he’d be sorely disappointed. Eddie simply keeps watching him, calm for once in his life. Like he knows, but wants Steve to say it, anyway.

Which, honestly, is a very Eddie thing to do, in its own kind of way. Then again, jumping head-first is Steve’s, and to hell with all the carefully crafted speeches and measured revelations. They had more than enough time, and Steve wants—Steve wants. All or nothing.

So he jumps.

“I’m still—I’m still as stupidly in love with you as I was at twenty fucking years old. Or maybe not still but rather again; it’s honestly a little hard to tell, sometimes. But I can’t—I can’t do this again, not. Not watching you leave. Not losing you again. And frankly, I’m not…” He exhales; swallows the fear and the hunger and the burning ache, and says, “I’m terrified we’ll fuck it up. That I’ll fuck it up—hell, I almost did, and we haven’t even had a chance—“

He jumps when Eddie touches the back of his hand, the light brush of fingertips like a burning match to spilled kerosene.

“Only you would be afraid to be the one to fuck it up after I was the one who ran away the first time.”

“That was nine years ago, though, this is—“

“Steve.” It’s the full-stop kind of way he says it, brown eyes dark with something that locks the protest behind Steve’s teeth.

He watches as Eddie gets up, walking around the table to kneel on the floor in front of Steve. Under different circumstances, the image might have sent his mind straight to the gutter; right now, with the way Eddie looks at him, all he can think of is kneeling on the church pew as a child, Sunday mass still an occasion his parents insisted on. Of staring up at the mahogany cross above the altar, and how small he’d felt, in the face of something so massive. How he’d hoped regardless, each Sunday, hands folded, that the one thing he kept asking for may be granted.

Love, love, love; Steve Harrington’s biggest, worst-kept secret has always been that insatiable greed for feeling, just once, like he could be worthy of it, too.

And now here Eddie is, kneeling at his feet.

He touches two fingers to the curve of Eddie’s jaw, where the scars still curl; a mirror of the earlier touch, and he wonders if Eddie feels it too, the firestorm beneath his skin. “You agreed that I’ve been an asshole.”

Eddie shrugs. “I waited, though, didn’t I? I needed time back then too, and I regretted leaving as I did within half a year. I just didn’t have the courage to come back.”

If Eddie’s first confession had felt like a car crash, this feels like the aftermath; like getting scraped off the tarmac, band-aids in every color stuck to savage wounds.

When Steve speaks next, his voice is rough. “What if I didn’t have the courage?”

“I knew you would.”

“That’s confident of you.”

“Or perhaps, I just know that you’re the bravest—as well as the most stubborn—idiot I’ve ever met,” Eddie says, and there is so much godforsaken affection ringing through his vowels that Steve almost chokes on how it floods the cavity inside his chest.

“Doesn’t mean I’m not an asshole, sometimes,” he says, because it feels dangerous, all that trust and certainty.

Eddie grins, almost pleased, and tugs at him until Steve huffs as if to prove the point and slides from the chair, kneeling on Eddie’s kitchen floor.

“Look at me,” Eddie says, as if Steve does anything else whenever he’s around.

 Eddie slides his hands around Steve’s jaw, though, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. Holds Steve’s gaze, and says, “I’m not going to leave again, alright? I’ve waited three months for you, but if you need me to, I’ll wait again. I’d wait each and every day for eight years, too, if that is the amount of time you’ll need. Granted, I’ll complain about it the entire time, and either you or Robin might murder me a year in, which would be a shame, but I’d wait. I’m not going anywhere.”

Steve’s throat burns, and he knows that if he uncurled his hands from where they found Eddie’s wrists, he’d find them shaking.

Steve believes him, though, is the thing; thinks of the sheer unlikeliness of them ever running into each other again after 1987, and about Eddie’s confession. About how they’ve been hurling towards this for so much longer than either of them could have known, and how, although he has long since stopped believing in Gods and fate and meant-to-be, the things Eddie makes him feel are the closest Steve has come to devotion in years.

So on a random Tuesday night in March, Steve kisses Eddie on the hardwood kitchen floor, for the first time since he thought of it, back then with a broken bottle pressed to his jugular.

It’s not as seismic as that particular night. It’s more like something softly clicking into place, like there is familiarity to the warmth of Eddie’s breath against his skin, to sliding his fingers into Eddie’s hair, tilting his head to deepen the kiss.

He licks into Eddie’s mouth and swallows the noise he makes in response, something to tug away beneath his breastbone—a new collection of things with Eddie’s name scrawled all over them. One less like a museum, and more like an exhibition in progress.

It’s like lighting a candle at the altar every Sunday, make a wish, believe it will come true; or maybe it’s the aftermath, the one Steve waited this long for. No candles, no tolling bells, but a wish coming true when Eddie laughs against his mouth, breathless and unsteady and so fucking happy that he glows.

“You know, I might have lied a little,” Eddie says, trailing his mouth over Steve’s jaw, across his cheekbone, until he can rest their temples together. “I didn’t actually have a crush on you in ’86. At least not only in ‘86.”

Steve’s brain isn’t working well enough for this. “What are you talking about?”

Eddie sighs, all over-dramatic theatrics, and tugs at a strand of Steve’s hair. “If you must know—“

“You’re the one who started talking—“

“If you must know. I had a crush on you long before ‘86. It’s just the year where it became so unbearable, not even I could ignore it any longer.”

Steve pulls back to look at him. “Now I know you’re full of shit, there’s no way—“

Eddie scoffs, but it mixes with laughter. “Christ, you really have no idea. Steve Harrington, you were a menace to every poor soul who was unfortunate enough to be attracted to men and living in godforsaken Hawkins in the ‘80s. And you better not let that get to your head, or I swear—“

Steve kisses him again, can’t help it, really, his chest threatening to crack open with the ridiculous amount of love that’s beating inside of it.

“And now I’m all yours,” he says, a vow against Eddie’s soft mouth. “Not on your goddamn kitchen floor, though.”

Eddie’s grin is bright enough to light up the entire room. “Still royalty at heart, I see.”

His knees crack when he stands up, though; Steve considers it his first big proclamation of love that he’s not making the obvious joke, here.

If the look Eddie levels at him is anything to go by, he knows it too, and what else is Steve supposed to do but pull him close, wrap his arms around Eddie’s waist to kiss him, again and again. To say, “At least not for the first time; I’m sure we’ll get around the flat eventually,” and swallow Eddie’s delight like honey.

After all, they have all the time in the world; Steve’s not going to let go again.

[rabbitsonthemoon]

I'm so excited to finally bring you my part of the Sonic the Hedgehog Big Bang 2024! I've been cooking up this fic for a long time. I couldn't have done it without my awesome mutuals, the people in the discord server, and my friendos. <3

This fic was beta'ed by @cyber-himbo and features art by them, as well as art by my wonderful collab partners, @crazy-thing-called-rock and @birbiegal - thank you SO much, you've all been completely patient and amazing and I couldn't have asked for better people to spend scheming with. After you've taken a look at them, please go check out the @sthbigbang for everyone's hard work.

*crawls into the corner with a blanket to SLEEP*

Links to my artist's posts right down here! Go SHOW EM SOME LOVE!

[bookwyrminspiration]

rolling up my sleeves as I open my doc before writing another variation of the exact same fic I've written a dozen times before

[niobiumao3]

.

[crehador]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Ayaka: A Story of Bonds and Wounds Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Kurama Haruaki/Ibuki Aka Characters: Kurama Haruaki, Ibuki Aka Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Implied Sexual Content Summary:

It didn't take long for Haruaki to notice that Aka had gotten into the habit of touching his scars.

[overworkedunderwhelmed]

The theme for the last week and change has been loss.

Loss of a pet.

Sudden loss of a friend’s Mom.

There’s more loss of course, but those are maybe the easiest to talk about when they don’t involve me and my health so directly.

I’d just like one week where I am not run ragged trying to fix everything while the world seems to fall apart all around me.

[clownrosary]

getting off lithium + coming back home from visiting family + posting a fic ive been working on nonstop for months all in the same week is making me experience emotions previously unknown

[bro-atz]

sweetheart

in which: you're the atz frat's newest sweetheart, but first, you gotta go through with the initiation.

pair: frat bros!ateez/afab!reader

word count: 4.2k

content: smut, gang bang, nicknames (they call you sweetheart), (some) drinking, mouth to mouth (you'll understand when you read it), unprotected sex (PLS REMEMBER TO WRAP UP IRL), oral, anal, double/triple penetration, creampies, slight breeding kink, filthy, completely consensual!

rated: R | nsfw — minors do not interact

author's note: written for the @cultofdionysusnet permevent and for the @atzhouse frat event <3 it seriously was a happy coincidence how this one fic lined up for both events i kid you not

networks: @/atzhouse @cromernet @/cultofdionysusnet @san-network @wonderlandnet

frat bros!ateez: part one | part two

taglist: @k-hotchoisan @eyeryis @sinnarols @sunshineangel-reads @hwallazia @dazzlingstarrs @dutchessskarma @yourlocaljonghoe @st4rhwa @frobin4ever @certifiedmoa @therealcuppicake @yuyubeans @hyukssunflower @chewyhotteoks @alexwritesfics @dinossaurz @skteezcursed @yessa-vie @minkilicious @isiloiale @ywtfvs @nvdhrzn @sanhwajjong @hyunukitty @startlinglyoongi @bsehindu @woomyteez @sanglix @khjoongie98 my tags have been acting kind of weird lately, so if you didn't get the notif, lmk! apply for the permanent taglist here!

Here’s the thing: you were pretty much already labeled as the ATZ frat sweetheart— and, yes, frat sweethearts are still a thing, and you know that for a fact because you definitely were theirs— since you were the sole being keeping the frat from falling apart. Granted, Hongjoong and Seonghwa put in the work when they had to, but they were so close to the brink of collapse since someone (Wooyoung) submitted the wrong receipts and nearly got the frat shut down by the university due to lack of proper funding use… It was a whole thing.

After you stepped in, though, the frat flourished, and the boys owed you a debt of gratitude, and the wanted to show that gratitude by officially swearing you in as their sweetheart.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Mingi greeted you with his low, rumbling voice as he sat down next to you on the couch. “How are you?”

“Could be better,” you replied with a small smile. “Seonghwa missed my double stuffed Oreos request on the grocery list again.”

“Oh, I did the groceries this week,” Mingi said with a tinge of guilt. “I had no idea you wrote that.”

“That’s okay, Gi! I’ll just rewrite it on the list and underline the shit out of it next time.”

“Still… I feel bad…” Mingi murmured. He leaned towards you and said, “Let me make it up to you.”

“How do you plan on doing that?”

Without a response, Mingi placed his hand gently on your knee, his fingers teasing you by pushing your skirt up slightly. He brushed his nose against your ear as he tucked your hair behind your ear, a small, rough sigh leaving his lips and ticking your skin. You couldn’t help but lean into his touch, your lips slightly parted in anticipation, your eyes fluttering. Mingi flirted with you all the time, and you jokingly would tell him that you would give him a chance if he was being serious, and you felt nothing but serious energy from him at that moment, so yes, you would give him that chance.

“Hey!”

The sound of San’s voice snapped you and Mingi out of your trance, the two of you giving the boy all of your attention.

“Don’t you remember what Hwa said?” San said with a slight frown. “No touching the sweetheart until tonight.”

“Why? What’s tonight?”

“Your initiation, duh,” Wooyoung, who popped up behind San, said matter-of-factly.

You for sure thought Wooyoung was messing with you because you knew that the boys had scheduled a frat party that night, but when the night arrived, you realized he was dead serious. There was no party. Instead, the living room was decorated with an assortment of beers, wines, and hard liquors, and they were all brand new, which freaked you out even more because you had never seen so many unopened, high quality bottles of liquor in the frat house before.

“Joong,” you started, your tone accusatory. “Do not tell me you used frat funds for this…”

“No, sweetheart. We used our personal money for this,” Hongjoong shook his head. “Come. Have a drink.”

You eyed the boy suspiciously, but you joined him in the living room anyway. The second you sat down, he handed you a glass of your favorite red wine— you never told the boys about your favorite wine, so you wondered how on Earth they figured it out in the first place— and willed you to drink it.

The wine warmed you up instantly, and your entire tense body relaxed almost instantly at the familiarity of the hints of black cherry. You sighed softly and relaxed into the couch cushions, only for that relaxation to quickly leave when you realized the eight pairs of eyes boring into your soul.

“W-What…?”

“Choose,” Seonghwa stated softly.

“What…?”

“Choose one of us to start your initiation,” Jongho explained a little further.

“How am I supposed to choose when I don’t even fucking know what this initiation is?!”

“Alright, fine,” San pushed his way past the boys. “I’ll start it for you, then.”

Without a second to waste, San took the wine glass out of your hand and shove it into Hongjoong’s hands before forcefully grabbing your face and bringing it near his. Your entire body jolted with excitement, but in the same breath, you also wanted to slap San and tell him to knock it off, but the way he was holding you made arousal pool in your panties at an alarming rate.

“Welcome to ATZ,” he started, a smirk playing on his lips. “If you really want to be our sweetheart, you’re going to obey our every order, got it?”

You responded with a mere nod, warmth flushing through your extremities. Your body only god hotter when San reached behind him and gestured for someone to hand him a bottle of whatever liquor, and with one hand still on your face, he took a swig from the bottle before immediately connecting his lips to yours. You could taste the sharp burn of vodka hit your tongue and go down your throat, nearly choking you. Yet, the motion itself was erotic enough for you to let the burn somehow turn into pleasure, the giddy feeling inside you getting stronger.

As San’s kisses got more passionate, lingering traces of vodka mixed with your saliva and started dripping down your chins. He moved entirely so he pinned you against the couch cushions, one of his hands choking you lightly while the other grabbed your wrist. You were so sucked into San’s kisses that you didn’t realize that someone had moved to the other side of you and started pulling your skirt down.

“Just relax, sweetheart,” you heard Seonghwa purr into your ear.

Along with your skirt went your panties, leaving your bottom half stark naked. Seonghwa pulled one of your thighs one way while someone else pushed your other thigh the other way. It was when San broke your chain of kisses to start decorating your neck with dark marks did you see Mingi kneeling before you, his tongue dangerously close to your inner thigh. You let out a whimpering sigh when you felt him trail his tongue along your thigh and closer to your cunt, the sigh turning into a slight moan when Seonghwa’s fingers reached for your clit and started drawing circles around it with the pad of his finger.

“I never knew you could make a sound like that, sweetheart,” Hongjoong chuckled as he downed whatever was left of the wine in your glass.

Tilting your head towards him with the tips of his fingers, Hongjoong’s lips met yours softly, leaving you with the sweetest kiss. You cupped his face with one hand while your other reached down to Mingi’s head and grabbed a fistful of his hair, tugging backwards while trying to get him to stop licking stripes up and down your pussy. San, meanwhile, lifted your shirt and bra up to reveal your breasts, his lips and Seonghwa’s lips immediately claiming one perky nipple each.

As the four of them ravished you, the other four started feasting away on the alcohol— you can’t expect to leave bottles of alcohol in front of frat bros and expect them not to drink it, now can you?— the beer bottles clattering to the ground and the shot glasses slamming onto the countertop.

All the four men were simply just caressing you, kissing you, but your brain was turning to mush at an alarming rate. You were so out of it that you didn’t even realize that they had gotten all of your clothes off you entirely, leaving all of your skin exposed and ready for the other four to start with you. Yunho had opted to kneel on the ground next to Mingi and caress your legs, his soft fingers trailing across your thigh and leaving goosebumps in their wake. Yeosang stood behind the couch and collected your hair for you to hold it back, allowing him to leave kisses along your temple and trail his tongue along your ear. Wooyoung chose to forcibly get your hand out of Mingi’s hair and move it to his crotch so you could cup his slowly stiffening cock through his pants, and Jongho snuck his way onto the couch so he could grope your waist and leave bite marks along the gentle curve of your hip.

“Mingi,” Seonghwa said as he started pushing the boy’s head away from your pussy. “We need to open her up.”

Nodding, Mingi moved away from you, giving Seonghwa the opportunity to slide down and sit between your legs. The other boys started leaving your side one by one as Seonghwa cupped the underside of your thigh and pushed your legs up, your knees pressing against your breasts. Then, you felt his tongue prod into your asshole, making you nearly jump off the couch had it not been for his insane grip on your thighs and Yeosang still holding your hair back.

“H-Hwa, don’t!” you cried. “It’s dirty!”

“Sweetheart, don’t tell me you forgot what I said already,” San tsked.

"Of course I didn't, Sannie, but—"

“No buts,” Yunho, now shirtless, stood before you. “Just go with the flow, sweetheart.”

Gulping, you nodded, allowing Seonghwa to resume. You squeezed your eyes shut as you felt his tongue prodding once more, your cunt and ass tightening in the process.

"No, sweetheart. You need to relax," Seonghwa murmured.

But you could do anything but relax. So, Yunho decided to help you out. He directed your attention to him and kissed you sweetly, his talented lips clearing out your mind. The way his hand traced the outline of your body as it went up to rest on your neck made your body lean towards him, an erotic sigh leaving your soul as he kissed you more and more passionately with every passing second. Yunho kissing you was enough to distract and relax your body, allowing Seonghwa to open you up as he wanted. He stuck two fingers in your asshole and pulled them apart, making you whine loudly into Yunho’s mouth.

As the two worked on you, the rest of the frat took the opportunity to strip themselves down, low grunts and moans rippling through them as they started stroking themselves. Once Seonghwa deemed you stretched out enough, he got up and shed his own clothes while Yunho choked you lightly as he moved you down from the couch so that you were kneeling before the eight of them.

“Alright, sweetheart. Suck,” San ordered as he slapped his thick cock against your cheek.

You looked up at him with half-lidded, lust-filled eyes, a smile playing on your lips as your hand reached for his cock. You only took the tip into your mouth, your hand rubbing the length as you moaned with his cock in your mouth. All you did was suck the tip of his cock, taking it in and out of your mouth with a little pop, making the boy groan in slight frustration. When Jongho stole your hand from San’s cock so you could start jacking him off, and when Yeosang took your other hand to do the same, San grabbed the back of your head and forced you down on his cock, making you gag loudly. He moved your head forcefully, continuing to make you gag as you sucked him off properly, the sound reverberating through the room.

“God, she sounds like such a fucking slut,” Mingi commented as he smirked at the sight of you on your knees sucking the thick boy off.

“Hey, show some respect,” Hongjoong snapped. “She’s our sweetheart.”

“Our slutty sweetheart,” Wooyoung couldn’t help but let out a little laugh as he bent down to give your ass a tight slap.

You couldn’t help but moan, your body jolting towards San when you felt Wooyoung’s hand go from slapping your ass to grabbing it and pulling upwards. San finally let you surface for air, only for Yunho to interject, his hand guiding your face to his massive cock.

“Don’t just focus on San, sweetheart. We all want to stuff our cocks in your face,” Yunho said, his soft voice very misleading considering the words that just left his mouth.

And so, all eight of the frat bros took their turns stuffing their cocks in your mouth. While you were choking on Mingi’s insane length, Hongjoong moved behind you, pushing you forward so that you were on your hands and knees. He licked his hand and ran his fingers along the folds of your sopping cunt, his fingers teasing you by slipping inside briefly.

"You're so fucking wet, sweetheart. You want us that bad, do you?"

You couldn't respond properly— you still had a mouthful of Mingi in you. Luckily, Hongjoong's didn't bother waiting for a reply from you. He rubbed the tip of his cock along your folds slowly before entering you at that same pace, the feeling of his cock filling you up making your entire body tingle. He watched as you curled your toes, making him chuckle slightly.

"You like my cock inside you, sweetheart? Of course you do," he sighed out. "You're so fucking tight... You feel so good, sweetheart."

He moved at a gentle pace, but each motion was enough to make you feel good already— you just needed a little boost. You brought your hand to your clit and started rubbing, only for someone to snatch your hand away.

“Nuh uh, sweetheart. That’s our job,” Wooyoung quickly denied you.

Sliding into the space underneath you, Yeosang was the next of them to press his tongue against your sore bud, the wetness from his tongue and the way he swirled it around your clit getting you to satisfaction much faster than your fingers ever could. You took Mingi out of your mouth to cry out loudly as you came, your walls fluttering around Hongjoong’s cock as your arousal dripped out of your stuffed cunt.

You clenched so hard around Hongjoong’s dick that he ended up coming without warning as well. He rammed his hips into yours and came inside, his cum heating you up as he filled you up.

“Hey, you said we wouldn’t cum inside,” Seonghwa pointed an accusatory finger at the oldest boy.

“N-No, I want you to fill me up,” you caught yourself whimpering. “I want you all to fill me with your cum.”

“Well, you heard her,” Hongjoong said slyly. “And who are we to say no to our sweetheart?”

You telling the boys that you wanted them to cum inside you excited them more than you anticipated. Within seconds, you were seated on Jongho’s lap, his girth spreading your walls so far that you thought you were going to tear while Wooyoung stood before you, his knee pressed into the couch as he rubbed you from the front with his cock.

“Woo— Hnngh! It’s n-not going to fit,” you said while moaning as Jongho thrust from underneath you.

“Oh, trust me, sweetheart. You’re going to fit us both.”

With that, Wooyoung slid his cock into you, a scream of pleasure leaving your lungs as you flung your head back and closed your eyes, just letting yourself feel both of them inside you. You thought there would hardly be any space for either of them to start moving, but Jongho proved you wrong when he held your waist tightly and started moving your body up and down while Wooyoung rolled his waist against yours. You could hear Jongho’s desperate grunts in your ear and Wooyoung’s erratic breathing against your skin as he pressed his face into the nook of your neck.

“Oh, fuck, sweetheart,” Jongho bit out. “You feel so fucking good, I don’t think I can hold back anymore.”

Responses evaded you. Instead, you turned your head to kiss Jongho, your fingers pressing into his scalp as you held the back of his head. You briefly made eye contact with him, the dark lust in his eyes sending a wave of heat through your body, the heat only increasing when he kissed you, his tongue inviting yours to dance. Your other hand went to Wooyoung’s neck, your nails digging into his skin and leaving deep crescents as you kissed Jongho passionately.

Wooyoung thrust into you in a way that made your body lean into Jongho’s firm chest further, the slightly altered angle of your body doing it for the boy underneath you. He grunted against your lips as he came, his ropes of cum shooting deep inside you. The second the other guys realized he came, they grabbed for you, pulling you off his lap. Soon, you were pinning Wooyoung to the couch, his cock still inside you.

“Hyung, come here,” Yeosang said to Seonghwa.

Getting on top of you, Yeosang slid his cock along your ass, the tip teasing your asshole every so often as Seonghwa knelt on the couch behind you.

“Forget about double stuffed, sweetheart,” Seonghwa quipped. “You’re going to get triple stuffed tonight.”

Without giving you time to ponder the implications of those words, Yeosang forced his cock into your tight asshole while Seonghwa slipped his cock into your pussy, the three of them fully inside you.

“Oh my God!” you cried as they pressed further until they were all completely inside you.

“Shit, her asshole is still really fucking tight,” Yeosang swore, the profanities leaving his mouth making your entire body thirst for him.

Your eyes watered up when Yeosang began to move, your hole tight and red as it swallowed him, the sight of which nearly drove Yeosang up the wall. He mercilessly fucked your ass, not wanting that tight feeling to leave as you squeezed his cock just right. You wanted to cry, nay, scream his name, but before long, San was standing in front of you, forcing his cock down your throat again.

“Good, sweetheart,” he praised as you gawked obnoxiously. “Very fucking good.”

Below you, Wooyoung’s pants were getting breathier, high moans and groans leaving his lungs. He bit his lower lip as he tried desperately to hold his orgasm at bay as he did not want the other guys stealing you from him just yet. But, he was finding it a little difficult to move at the pace he wanted with Seonghwa’s cock stuffed in your cunt. Thankfully, when Seonghwa pulled out, it allowed Wooyoung to ram his hips upwards, the slapping of his waist against yours overpowering your moans.

Seonghwa had decided he wanted to move to your asshole, so while you were distracted by Wooyoung’s insane hip thrusts, Seonghwa shoved his cock into your asshole, practically making you feel like Yeosang and Seonghwa were going to tear you a new one. San had to pull his cock out of your mouth before you bit down on it, making him opt to repeatedly shove his cock in your mouth over and over again instead of having you continuously suck it.

Wooyoung couldn’t hold back anymore. The erotic noises of your cunt and ass and you sucking San off did it for him. He groaned loudly and blinked stars out of his eyes as he came, filling you with your third load.

“Woo, pull out,” Seonghwa ordered. “I’m close, too.”

You were surprised to hear Seonghwa say that— he sounded way too calm and collected to be close. But, when all three boys pulled out, you turned to see that Seonghwa’s jaw was slightly dropped, and his eyes were fluttering when he re-entered your cunt. Despite three loads of cum inside you, you were still insanely tight for him, and him being in your ass just moments prior squeezing and nearly snapping his dick off was already plenty tight. Yeosang, who had resumed with your asshole, snapped you back to attention when he slapped your ass, your back arching as a result.

Seonghwa had barely entered you, and he was done. You pressed your chest against Wooyoung’s and pushed your ass upwards, and as a result, Seonghwa came hard. He grabbed your ass cheeks and let out a low, shuddering groan as he came, disappointment evident on his face— he wanted to fuck you more. What a shame. The second Seonghwa pulled out and moved away, Yeosang switched to your cunt and immediately came. He had been holding his load for quite some time, and he wanted to fill your cunt, not your ass, with his seed.

The five of them swam inside you threatening to spill out when you relaxed your pussy just enough, but you clenched and held it in. You wanted to keep them inside you for as long as humanly possible.

San determined that it was his turn after you were left panting for dear life on the couch. He nimbly picked you up and laid you so that you were bent slightly uncomfortably, your head and shoulders pressing into the ground while your ass rested against the edge of the couch. San stood over you, his thick cock twitching in anticipation as he prepared to drill into you. As he adjusted his position, Yunho and Mingi knelt by your side, their cocks slipping into your open palms, and Wooyoung bent over so that his face was above yours but upside down— he had every intention to Spiderman-kiss you.

Before you realized it, San’s cock was inside you and throbbing while staying still, a long moan leaving him. Wooyoung didn’t give you the chance to moan. He kissed you roughly, his lips tugging upwards on your lower lip. You were a little too focused on Wooyoung to the point where Yunho and Mingi had to forcefully move their own cocks in your loose grip— not that they really minded, though, because they were waiting their turn to fuck your cunt.

To say San’s cock was literally drilling into you would be an understatement. He was annihilating your pussy and back with the amount of force he was using to thrust. He had a tight grip on your waist as he rammed his waist into yours repeatedly, your entire body shifting with every rut.

“S-Sannie! I’m c-cumming!” you cried as you broke off your kisses with Wooyoung.

“Fuck, sweetheart, me— Oh, God!”

San didn’t get to finish his sentence— he just finished. He pressed a good majority of his body weight onto you as he shoved his cock so far deep inside you that it hit your cervix, making your entire body shudder as you came; and the second San pulled out, Yunho and Mingi were on you like vultures. Mingi grabbed you and hoisted you in the air quickly, your legs dangling as he kept his arms secure behind the backs of your knees.

“Oh my God, Mingi, do not fucking drop me,” you yelped as you clung to him.

“Relax, sweetheart. I have no intention of letting you go,” his deep chuckle reverberated in your ear.

Without using his hands to help him, Mingi was able to successfully sink you down on his cock, making you cry loudly as you felt his length slide inside you quickly. Before he could even start moving you, Yunho pressed his chest against your back, his own cock making its way inside your cunt as well, earning yet another cry from you.

“Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you chanted as the two men with the longest lengths fucked you midair, the two of them moving you so that you were bouncing on their insane cocks.

You could barely keep your head on straight with them fucking you like that, but with the addition of their low grunts and groans in your ear, you were losing your mind completely. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you leaned backwards into Yunho, your grip on Mingi loosening like your grip on reality.

“Look at you all fucked out by our cocks, sweetheart,” Yunho teased.

“You really like double stuffed that much, huh?” Mingi added to the teasing.

You wanted oh so badly to tell them to shut up, but you could only scream their names as you felt your climax rapidly approach. You brought your head back to face Mingi’s, your lips immediately searching for his as you did your best to hold off on cumming. But, when Mingi pulled you towards him to meet your desperate kisses, he rubbed against your G-spot, making you cum instantly. Your cunt clenched so tightly that both boys subsequently came, their loud groans echoing in the living room as their cum spurt deep inside you, leaving you with the cum of the eight of them threatening to spill out of you had it not been for the two massive cocks blocking its path.

Mingi let you down onto the ground, the cum flowing out of you, leaving you sitting in a pool of their cum as you fought to regain your breath and sanity. Blinking stars and tears out of your eyes, you looked up to see all eight of them hovering above you while stroking their cocks.

“So, sweetheart,” Hongjoong spoke. “Welcome to ATZ.”

You couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed— was that really it?

“Do you want more, sweetheart?” Seonghwa chuckled looking at your expression.

Biting your lower lip, you looked up at him and nodded, all eight boys’ breath hitching.

“Believe me, sweetheart. We’re not done fucking you yet.”

[minihotdog]

Have You Seen My Boyfriend?

Summary: You see Simon in the mask for the first time

C/W: angst (?)

A/N: I've been wanting to write this fic for a while now and I didn't really know what to do with it BUT @celestialwhoree wrote this lovely fic right here and it lit a fire under my ass. I also don't think Simon would wear his mask outside of combat-active areas sooo I threw that out the window to make this work.

Word Count: 723

He didn’t even remember that he still had that damn balaclava on when they touched down on the runway. Months had gone by and eventually, as it always did, it began to feel like a second skin.

He never let you see him with it on either. Simon made sure to keep Ghost on the field and Simon at home. He’d watched countless men throughout his career take work home with them and the damage it left on everyone they touched. He wasn’t perfect. He had his own struggles in disconnecting from the adrenaline and danger, but he’d been meticulous so far.

Since you came into his life the balaclava stayed in his ready-to-go bag that you weren’t allowed to touch.

The bulk of the unit grabs their bags and heads towards the hangar as fast as they can, happy to be freed from the C-130 they’d been cramped into like sardines for hours. Their families wait for them, cheering as they get closer.

Simon knew you didn’t like crowds and messaged you to meet him at the compound instead, he’d instructed a private to let you inside the barrack’s common area to wait for him.

You were sitting on an ugly old brown couch fidgeting with your fingers. He’d been gone for months and your excitement to have him back home was mixing with the anxiety of being in this environment that didn’t feel right for you to be in. You wondered if he’d get in trouble for letting you be there.

At some point, you get on your feet and begin pacing away from the door in case they barge in to take you away for being in a restricted area unsupervised.

Simon detours to throw his bags in his office before heading towards the common area. His weapon and clips are long gone, turned into the armory waiting for his next embarkment. His vest is still snug on his frame, his skeleton-printed gloves still donned with months of sweat and grime soaked into the fabric, and his forgotten balaclava sticking to him absentmindedly.

You jump out of your skin in fear when the door swings open and spin around on your heels to meet your awaiting demise. Your nerves don’t subside when a giant man steps into the room. All the air suddenly gets sucked out.

He’s covered head to toe and the only thing your eyes can focus on is the skull print on his face. He closes the door behind him, his eyes not leaving yours.

You swallow harshly, trying to force words out. Or do anything to save yourself.

“Have you seen my boyfriend?” You squeak out. You watch the mask move over his features and you avoid his eyes at all costs. The overcast from the eyeholes makes them look like black holes.

“Y/n,” He breathes out while taking a step closer. You swear to yourself he almost sounds like your Simon but the alarm bells continue going off at the sight of him. You take a step back and in his exhausted state, it finally clicks. His eyes close and his eyebrows furrow in disbelief. He looks over you taking in your reluctance and the fear coursing through you.

Fuckin’ Hell

He reaches up slowly to not scare you. His fingers pull at the fabric at the top of his head slowly pulling the balaclava off to reveal his all-to-familiar face, his messy blond locs sticking out in every direction.

“Jesus, Simon!” You gasp, running to him and banging on his chest. “You scared the shit out of me! What the fuck!”

He wraps his arms around you, pinning you to his chest. You writhe in his arms trying to escape.

“I’m sorry, love. I didn’t mean to.”

You look up into his sad chocolate brown eyes now freed from the darkness that hid them before. “I never wanted you to see that, doll. That isn’t me, I promise.” His voice comes out soft and full of regret.

He yanks his gloves off letting them fall to the ground so he can lace his fingers in your hair. He holds you against his chest, occasionally brushing his lips against your forehead.

Cats out of the bag.

He doesn’t know what to do now. What if this is the start of something he can’t prevent?

[honeyed-hedonist]

Parings: Jason Todd x afab!Reader Word Count: 4.4k Warnings: SMUT—MINORS DNI. mentions of blood, gore, and violence, oral (f & m receiving), lots of teasing, degradation (jason todd is a big meanie), a lil bit of a size kink if you squint (hims a big, big boy), an obscene amount of dirty talk, fingering, unprotected sex, jason has multiple orgasms (he’s got stamina, baybee), creampie, cum swapping, and, as always, declarations of love (barf). A/N: I wrote this for my sweet baby angel @heli0s-writes in a little fic swap we’re having because we like to scream at each other about all the fictional men we want to rail us into a pulp. I love you! I hope this makes your brain melt. Tehe 😈 (Reposting from my former blog)

IF YOU LIKE THIS STORY, PLEASE REBLOG IT.

Jason Todd is a menace. The absolute bane of your existence. 

Who does he think he is banging on your door at 3:45 in the morning? As if your neighbors needed another reason to gossip about you. Nevermind all the probing questions that were poorly masked as casual conversation when you were using the on-site laundry room or grabbing your mail. If you had to hear “So, you and Red Hood, huh?” one more time, you were going to rip your hair out. 

But Jason has always been brazen—not much has changed since the day you found him bleeding out in an alley between your apartment building and the pet shelter next door. He had a gunshot wound, lacerations over damn near every square inch of him, his mask all but shattered and exposing most of his face to you as you did your best to haul his massive frame up from the ground to drag him inside and patch him up. He had grinned at you the entire time, flirted with you while you fished the bullet out, asked you to dinner as you wiped the grit and grime off of his neck and chest. He hasn’t left you alone since.

You love him, of course. How can you not? He’s 6’4” of muscled steel, all wrapped up in a handsome, roguish bow with a sharp tongue and an even sharper mind. Any woman alive would be hard-pressed to resist his charms and you’re no exception, but it’s difficult to remember those warm, fuzzy feelings when he’s pounding on your door hard enough to wake the dead.

With bleary eyes, you unlatch the locks and yank it open, hissing at him as you fist your hand into the lapel of his jacket and tug him inside, ignoring the wide-eyed look on your neighbor’s face from across the hall. Your annoyance is overshadowing the rest of your senses, so you don’t see the tent in his pants, don’t notice his lust-blown pupils when he shucks his helmet off and throws it aside. Instead, you whirl on him, an accusatory finger pointed squarely at his chest in preparation to scold him.

“Are you out of your fucking mind? Why couldn’t you just come in through the window? I keep it unlocked for this exact reason, Jason! You stubborn fucking ass—mmph!” His mouth is on you instantly—demanding and desperate as he crashes his lips into yours, uninterested in hearing your lecture. His gloved hands lift you off the floor in one fluid motion that has you instinctively wrapping your legs around his hips. You feel it then, the heavy, hard length of him trapped between your bodies and you gasp, an action that he capitalizes on by shoving his tongue past your teeth and into the back of your throat.

The tang of coppery blood fills your mouth and has you retreating, pushing back on his chest to look at him, but he’s right there chasing your mouth, walking blindly towards your kitchen table to set you down. “Jay—honey, wait. Are you—fuck!” His teeth are sharp against your throat, silencing your protest with the harsh sting of pain, grunting as he grinds his hips between your spread thighs. 

“Shut up,” He growls, voice low and dangerous, sending your synapses into overdrive, drowning out what little restraint you have left. “Need to be inside you. Need to hear those sweet sounds, baby, just—let me.”  Jason’s fingers are shaking when he moves to peel your shirt off, and you know it’s the adrenaline, that he’s high from the violence of his nightly patrol, teetering on the edge of losing control. These nights, you think, are the ones he needs you the most—seeking salvation with your body, tunneling his way to absolution with powerful thrusts of his hips, because if you can love all the fucked up parts of him, can love him even after all of his mistakes, then maybe, in his mind, he’s worth something afterall. 

So you nod, your own hands making quick work of the kevlar and leather he’s covered in, helping him shed layer after layer of it off until he’s bare chested and heaving with labored breaths. It’s then that you notice the gashes that cut diagonally across his collarbone, the skin ripped in a way that makes you shudder. Claws? A serrated knife? You can only imagine the kind of monsters he grappled with tonight. His chest is smeared with congealed, drying blood, a trail of it leading down his stomach, seeping into his briefs and tactical pants, staining the tuft of coarse, dark hair that leads to his pubic bone an ugly shade of rust.  

His eyes have turned shark-like—a depthless obsidian that makes him look possessed, the usual crystalline blue almost completely eclipsed by his blown out pupils. You should be terrified by the sight, the danger lurking within that endless dark, but your demons have always called to his, so all it does is stoke the flames now licking their way down your spine to pool between your legs. His gaze shifts the second your hands fall to your panties, exhaling a shaky breath as you try to wiggle out of them, to grant him access to the part of you that only he gets to explore.   

Jason snarls then, swatting your hands away to rip the flimsy strip of cotton clean off, tossing it over his shoulder where it floats delicately to the floor in shredded ribbons of fabric. And then he’s on his knees, dropping to your floor with a loud thud that has the knick knacks hanging on your walls tinkling with vibration from the force of his herculean frame hitting the laminate. He scoots closer, boots scuffing your floor, the heat of his stare now focused on your puffy slit. Every exhale is a rumbling growl, hot breath fanning out against your pussy as he inches closer and you bite your lip, ready to muffle the sound you know he’s going to tear from your throat the second he puts his mouth on you.

Warm, calloused hands skate up the insides of your thighs, throwing them open even wider to accommodate the width of his shoulders when he leans in. Jason’s nose settles against your slit and he inhales, breathing in the musky scent of your arousal. It leaves you frozen in place, barely breathing when you watch his eyes roll back with pleasure. It sends your pulse straight to your clit and you whimper, the sound acting as a catalyst for him to dive in tongue-first and lick a wet stripe through your folds. He moans at the taste of you, a deep, salacious vibration of sound that rattles your bones. It has you hooking your hands around the edge of the table in a white-knuckled grip, mouth slack when Jason’s deft tongue and plush lips begin to work you over.

He’s precise and purposeful when he eats you out—applying just the right amount of pressure, finding the perfect moments to snag that bundle of nerves with his teeth, gumming at your velvety cunt with his mouth, his tongue attuned to your every need. It takes him no time at all until you’re whining, begging like a god damn harlot, your fingers wound harshly into the roots of his hair, pulling him in, fucking yourself on his face. His girl. Perfect and needy, just the way he likes you.

But, again, Jason Todd is a fucking menace, glancing up at you with that wild look in his eyes, clocking the way your eyebrows are knitted together, the way you’ve got him pressed so deeply between your legs that he can barely breathe—he knows you’re close, can feel your thighs trembling against his ears. He waits, feasts on you until your eyes roll back into your skull, until he knows you’re about to rocket into a release—and then he stops, withdraws his mouth—a mouth that’s glistening with evidence of your pleasure, and offers you a sadistic smile.

“You thought I was gonna let you cum, princess?” He goads, swatting at your pussy hard enough that it sends you reeling, your body jerking with a yelp. “Nah…Tonight you cum on my cock and nowhere else.” Jason rocks back on his heels and stands, towering over you, crowding your space as he takes your jaw in his hand, his grip hard and unforgiving. “Do you understand me?” 

There’s a war happening in your mind, because you know he needs this control, know he’s standing on a very dangerous ledge and you have to tread carefully, but fuck if you don’t want to cop an attitude, push him right off that cliff just to see what he’ll do. Seconds tick by like minutes, his eyes bouncing between yours, expectancy evident on his handsome face while you contemplate how much you value the use of your legs and whether you’ll need them tomorrow. 

“I don’t take orders from you, Todd,” You spit, jerking your chin free from his hold. Curiosity has clearly gotten the better of you, and the fire your response sets ablaze in Jason’s eyes has your stomach flipping. His mouth curls into a wicked little smirk, and then you feel that same hand of his wrap around your throat and squeeze; hard. 

He bends forward, bringing his lips to the shell of your ear, tongue tracing the edge of the cartilage. “So that’s how it’s gonna be, hmm?” Your breath hitches at the gravel in his tone, and now you know without a doubt that you won’t be doing any walking tomorrow, let alone moving. Thank god you have some PTO saved up. 

Jason’s spine straightens when he yanks you off the table, the movement so fast you don’t have enough time to process what’s happening until your ass hits the floor and you wince. “Well, would ya lookit that.” He mocks, palm slapping against your cheek before he’s hooking two fingers into your mouth to suppress your tongue. “Since you’re down there already—might as well make yourself useful, yeah?” 

Fuck. Sometimes you forget the cruelty he’s capable of, the way he can talk so mean, degrade and embarrass you for the sake of your shared pleasure. It’s exactly what you asked for, and he always delivers. With blush stained cheeks, your face pinched in a glare, you reach for his pants, popping the button open, tugging the zipper down, and shucking the blood-stained bottoms and cotton briefs to his knees. What you’re met with has your jaw working, saliva pooling behind your teeth because goddamn is he hung. 

Jason is fucking massive everywhere, so it goes without saying that his dick would carry some weight, but it still astonishes you every single time you see it. Bobbing invitingly in your face, angry red at the tip and oozing precum, veins prominent and pulsing along the shaft just begging for attention, his cock sits proudly above an even heftier set of balls, and you clench remembering just how good they feel smacking your sensitive clit when he pounds you out from behind.

His fingers are still playing against your tongue, sliding over the wet muscle until he breaches the back of your throat and you choke. There’s drool seeping past his knuckles, dribbling onto your chest, and he hums his approval, eyes glittering with the promise of what’s to come. One last pass of his calloused digits before he’s angling his tip and pushing his length into the wet heat of your mouth with a grunt. “This is a much better use for that mouth of yours, don’t you agree, princess?” Jason coos at you, pressing forward until your eyes screw shut, tears trickling down your cheeks when his cock seats itself deep in your esophagus. “That’s a good girl—open up that throat for me. Yeah, just like that—fuck.”

Soggy, spit covered fingers curl against the crown of your head as Jason begins to thrust, fucking your mouth. Your eyes are blurry, crossing each time he bottoms out, breathing harshly through your nose with every withdrawal, your palms digging into the meat of his thighs to keep you steady, to keep you rooted enough to take his assault. Over and over again he drives his hips forward, the slippery sound of the suction of your lips is so fucking obscene it makes you moan. That filthy, wet squelch ringing out as more saliva trickles from the corners of your mouth, bubbling up in sloppy arcs that web between your chin and his cock, matting into his pubic hair, commingling with the remnants of his blood. 

You’re sure your face is stained pink from it by now, and you couldn’t care less, not when Jason’s face is twisted so beautifully above you—jaw slack and cheeks red, sweat marring his brow, hair curling at his temples and the nape of his neck. He looks so goddamn pretty when he loses himself in you like this that it makes the ache in your throat worth it, makes tomorrow’s hoarseness a welcome battlescar if only for the vision of him lost in the throes of violent passion above you right now. “Shit—m’gonna cum, princess. S’too good, I can’t—”

You slip your hand beneath your chin, between your bodies, cupping his balls, teasing them, rolling them in your palm, and he roars, bottoming out to cum down your throat. His cock pulses against your tongue and you wiggle it against his length appreciatively, humming while you swallow down spurt after spurt of milky semen until he’s pulling out with a hiss. Jason’s big hand cups your jaw, tilting your face up while he huffs. “Best little cocksucker, baby, but I’m nowhere near finished with you yet.”

Before you can blink. Jason hauls you up and deposits you right back onto the kitchen table, throwing your legs open. Letting out a low whistle, he drags the pad of his thumb up through your folds, swiping over your throbbing clit with a chuckle. “Such a pretty little pussy, hm? So eager, so fuckin’ desperate, clenching around nothing at all. You just wanna be full, don’t you?” He goads, slotting his hips between your thighs, letting the heavy weight of his dick slap against your sensitive pearl until you’re mewling, fingernails biting into his forearms.

“Jay—please,” You whine, your voice scratchy and rough, and he shakes his head, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth while his eyes make a slow trek up to meet yours. 

“After your little performance? Not a chance, sweetheart. I’ll fuck you when I’m good and ready, but for now? For now you’re gonna put on a show for me. Let me see how you stuff that needy cunt when I’m not here.” He smirks viciously down at you, wrapping his fist around his length, pumping slow and languid while your face heats with embarrassment. 

The weight of his stare presses down on you, hot and heavy, as you guide a trembling hand between your legs, fingers dipping through your slick, peeling your lower lips apart with a breathy sigh. Despite his bravado, you know how bad he wants to be buried in your heat, cock shoved so deep that the tip batters against your cervix. It’s that thought alone that spurs you on, two fingers pushing into that wet, hungry hole with a moan. You hook them upwards, seeking, pressing against that tender little spot that makes your back arch, fucking yourself while he watches, his muscles coiled in waiting like a predator about to strike. It’s maddening—no matter how fast or how hard your fingers work into your pussy, it’s not enough, it’s never enough and he knows it.

“Feels good, huh, princess?” Jason huffs, pumping his dick while he watches you, taunting you with his words. “But you want more—can see it on that pretty face. Those little fingers just don’t cut it, do they? Course not, you need more. Need this fat cock, don’t you?” The whine that pours out of your throat is meek and pathetic, because he’s right and you can’t hide from him—not when you’re splayed out so beautifully like this. 

How many nights have you spent lying on your sheets chasing an unsatisfying release at your own hands. It’s never as good as it is with him, because Jason knows you. Knows all the ways to make you keen and writhe and burst. “Go on,” He says, “let me hear you say it. Beg me real nice and I might give you what you want.”

God damn him, you think, because he never makes it easy, not on nights like this when the battle is still fresh in his mind, when the adrenaline is still plowing through his veins. And god damn you if it doesn’t light you right up, heating the already charged air between you both. Your head falls back with a thud against the table and he tuts at you, pulling your gaze back where he wants it—on him. There’s a lump in your throat despite your fingers still working your cunt, the shame of having to beg both igniting your desire and stoking the fire of your petulance. Gritting your teeth, you spit the words he wants to hear at him with indignant venom. “Please, Jason. Want—need your cock. Fuck me, baby, just—” He chuckles darkly, free hand moving to grip your chin, his thumb stroking the hinge of your jaw.

 “Oh, I think you can do better than that.” Jason sucks a breath in through his teeth, his handsome face scrunched up with pleasure, and you catch sight of his other thumb swabbing over the tip of his cock, still rock hard and leaking between his clenched fist. “Try again.” 

“Fuck!” You spit, fingers soaked as they dive in and out of your pussy with delicious friction. Swallowing what remains of your stubborn pride, you gaze at Jason from beneath your lashes, your eyebrows furrowing, features turning soft and pleading. “Please, baby,” Your voice lifts an octave higher—whiney, simpering—and it works. Jason groans, leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours. “Fuck me, baby. Please fuck me. Need you, need that cock—please? M’so empty without it. Wanna cum all over you, Jason. Please!”

“That’s my girl,” He croons, tilting his head to capture your mouth in a kiss that’s more teeth and tongue than anything else, distracting you enough that you cling to him, fingers carding through his hair while the head of his cock prods through your slit until it catches on your opening and he drives his hips forward, stretching you apart in one powerful, rough thrust.

It forces a scream from your throat that he swallows, bottoming out until his pelvis rests flat against the pocket of fat above your pussy. “Fuck—give me your fingers, baby. Put ‘em in my mouth.” Jason commands, and you know exactly what he wants, bringing your damp middle fingers up to his face, letting him suck the remnants of your efforts from your skin. You watch, hypnotized, as his eyes roll back and he starts to move, his teeth sinking into the digits while he fucks you. 

There’s nothing quite like having a cunt full of Jason Todd. The sting that comes from the sheer size of his dick, the way it stretches you to your very limits, those gummy walls forced open wide to accept every angry stab of his length. He bullies his cock into you, pounds hard enough that your kitchen table slides across the floor with each stroke. But he follows right along with it, hammering into you while his tongue slides between your fingers, sucking on them like a damn pacifier. It’s sinful, filthy, and raw—makes you absolutely feral, crying out for him over and over again, free hand dragging harsh lines down his muscled back so hard you’re certain you’ve broken the skin. 

“Mhmm,” he hums, letting your fingers fall from his mouth. “I know, baby. I fucking know—swear to god you were made for me. Take my cock so fucking well—shit!” He growls, righting his posture and reaching for your ankles. Jason locks both of them in one hand, closing your thighs together, making you even tighter, the fat lips of your pussy peeking out between your legs. The sight has Jason grunting like a wild animal. “That’s my pussy, huh?” He asks and you nod, completely lost to the mind-numbing pleasure he’s supplying. “Know it is. Always gonna be mine, baby. Gonna ruin this little cunt for anyone else. Gonna wreck it.” 

The world shrinks until it’s just you and Jason, no concern for your neighbors who can undoubtedly hear the way your kitchen table knocks against the wall every time he pounds his dick into your pussy, not a single care other than him and the way he loves you—the brutal way he fucks you. Resting both of your legs against the side of his chest that isn’t cut open, he hugs them close, looks down at you, and god, you’ve never seen him quite like this. It’s mesmerizing. 

And then he’s spreading your legs, pushing your shins up and into your chest, folding you in half. The new angle sends his cock even deeper, and you let out another rapturous cry, each stroke pummeling your cervix. He shushes you, fingers mashing your cheeks together in a tight grip. “Eyes on me, princess. Wanna see you fall apart.” 

So you watch, helpless and at his mercy, when his free hand wedges between your legs, fingers seeking out the place where you’re stretched around his dick, stroking it lovingly before moving his attention to your stiff, aching bud. Jason tilts his head, dropping his chin to his chest, letting a drizzle of spit cascade down between you. It hits its mark, splashing against the hood of your clit and rolling down until he catches it with his thumb, sluicing it up and over your pearl. 

“Don’t you dare hold back.” He commands, and all you can do is nod, tits practically tucked under your chin, body jolting from his incessant, endless assault. And then his fingers start to move and you wail. The friction is a welcome respite from the brutal way he’s handling you. Jason plays your clit like he knows what you’re feeling, flicking and tugging, applying enough pressure that the heat beginning to bloom in your belly burns hotter, a blazing inferno that’s about to consume you. “That’s it, let it out. Come on, angel, give it to me. Soak my fucking thighs.”

There’s always this brief moment before you cum—the universe stilling for the tiniest of seconds right before you unravel. You lock eyes with Jason in that instant, lip pinched between your teeth to try and muffle the noise you’re making. He nods at you, encourages you to let it go, tells you that he’s got you with just the look in his eyes, and it’s the truth. When time catches up to you in the next blink of your eyes, you fucking explode. Your back arches, knees slamming into your chest while you scream and quake beneath him. Jason wrangles you through your convulsions, pins your limbs to the table, coos and hushes you, lavishes you with praise while your cunt gushes around the intrusion of his cock. And what a fucking mess you’ve made. 

His teeth grit when he feels your cum wet his stomach and thighs, dribbling down his balls, and that’s the final nail in the coffin for Jason. With a roar of your name, he pumps into you a final time before he, too, loses himself. Jason cums hard—so hard that he damn near goes blind and deaf, vision whiting out, ears ringing as he empties himself into your swollen, fucked out pussy. It’s endless, the thick ropes of spend that now paint your insides. So much that you can’t contain it, a few errant, creamy strands dripping out of the place your bodies are joined. 

When he blinks his eyes open again, he catches as much as he can on his fingers, licks it into his mouth, and yanks you into his arms to kiss you. You’re barely conscious, but you kiss him back anyways, and Jason can’t stop the smile that curls his lips as he feeds you his cum from the tip of his tongue. Brushing your sweat matted hair off your forehead, his smile widens, peppering your reddened face with kisses. “You still with me, baby? Or have I fucked you stupid again?”

A halfhearted swat to the side of his head is your answer, and he laughs, the sound warm and infectious. There’s something so sweet about his laugh, it’s always made your chest swell, deep and gruff and perfect—just like him. You both stay locked together, his arms around you in a tight embrace, until your mind finally floats back into your body enough for you to remember how to be a person again. “Hey—as incredible as that was, and don’t you dare get an ego about it—you’re still very fucking injured, Jason.” 

Another laugh, his lips smacking against yours in a final peck that has you grinning right back at him. “Yeah, alright, I hear you, boss.” Jason teases, right before easing his softening cock from inside you. There are wounds that need tending, but he’s not quite ready to let go of this moment, feeling whole with your body wrapped up in his arms. He presses his forehead to yours once more, warm breath fanning out against your heated skin. “I love you, baby.” He whispers it, soft and sweet, your heart melting at the declaration. 

It’s a sentiment you return without hesitation, arms moving to cup his face—your whole world now held between the palms of your hands—and tilt his face back to level him with your stare. “I love you,” you answer, conviction heavy in your voice as you brush your nose against his “always.” Jason’s breath hitches in his chest, because nothing on this earth could have ever prepared him for the peace, the utter tranquility that loving you and being loved by you has brought him. Despite the lump in his throat, the tears misting his gaze, he echoes “always,” right back to you, kissing you tenderly until you’re both dizzy, until the world around you fades once again, until all that’s left is you and him. Just the way you like it.

[giddyfatherchris]

At your mercy

pairing. han jisung x afab!reader

type. requested

warnings. suggestive, MDNI! we get to see more of dom han👀 and curse words

words. ~2k

a/n. thank you to my angel @solisyeah for this request i hope you’ll like it!! also, dom han lives rent free in my head:) and this fic is a continuation of han’s part in this text fic we made in collab

a/n2. the first time i wrote this it was kinda really frickin toxic and I'm sorry but I just couldn't. being in a dom relationship does NOT EQUAL that toxic behaviors are okay. boundaries are important people! and what can I say I'm a whore for ppl who respect them:) hope you enjoy xxx

You're so flushed when you head out of the lunch room that you want to crawl under the earth's crust, as opposed to your boyfriend walking out like he owns the world. He's cocky and particularly satisfied when he notices Seungmin trying to avoid at all cost to lock eyes with you or him. You try to get rid of the aura of sex surrounding you and decide to sit near Felix while Hannie gets back to the recording booth as if nothing happened. He gives you a cocky wink, but you quickly advert your eyes, feeling your cheeks heat up with fire once more. You're determined to move on, so you focus on your friend to notice Felix really looks down in the dumps. "Hey, you okay?" you ask while nudging his shoulder. 

The blonde boy lets out a heavy sigh, "Not really. Management has been really tough on us these past few weeks. Our schedules keep multiplying, I'm tired and miss my family. I feel like I can't breathe." His eyes fill with tears, breaking your heart in two. Even if Felix is known for being easily moved, he isn't the type to start crying like this in the middle of a room. You gently stroke your hand down his back to comfort him. "Can I do anything to help? I'm so sorry you're going through this. You should have told me earlier instead of enduring this all alone." 

He quickly wipes his tears away before anyone notices and whispers. "Can I have a hug?"

You immediately wrap your arms around his neck to bring him closer to your body. You won't pull away from this hug before he does. From the way he clings to you, you know he needs this. Suddenly, he pulls you on his lap to lay his head better in the crook of your neck. You don't mind the physical touch, Felix and the other boys had always been a touchy bunch, so you kept stroking his soft hair, shushing sweet nothings to console him. 

What you don't notice is your boyfriend's piercing death stare from across the recording booth as he stares at the way his member's head is lying on your skin, how tightly you hold him and how you are sitting on his goddamn lap. Felix and you are in a bubble of your own, lost in your little world when you hear a familiar ping from your phone. Without letting go, you reach out for your device, your eyes turning round as saucers as you notice the texts coming from your boyfriend. They keep popping up on the screen in a raging litany. They come so fast that you barely have the time to read them all.

One second you're hugging your friend the next a firm grip is roughly pulling you off his lap. You lift surprised eyes to see a fuming Jisung. His gaze is set on his junior with an aggressive spark. Everyone stares in silence at the scene, shocked to see such a demeanor coming from one of the most peaceful members.

"It's time for Y/n to go. They have things to do." 

You can barely mutter a confused 'what?' when he grabs your things, shoves them in your hands, gives you a quick kiss on the cheek, and pushes you out of the room. The door behind you closes in a slam, leaving you alone, feeling on your back the baffled gaze of the other boys through the glass.

"Ji, what the" you barely hear Bang Chan start, but he's quickly shut down by the boy's poisonous tone. You don't know what he said, but from the way Chan's mouth is hanging out open, it was not good. You watch your boyfriend head to the booth, put back on his headphones, and resume his verse like nothing happened for the second time today. 

You head home completely enraged with his behavior. You never minded his dominant side. In fact, you loved it, but today was too much. The first thing with Seungmin was hot, even if it had raised warning signs in your brain. The way he kept it going with Felix was something else. He crossed a limit you couldn't tolerate.

When he gets home hours later, he's back to being his cute usual self. He babbles about his day while you stare silently at him from your seat at the table.

After a while, he notices you haven't said a word since he got home. He finally turns to you with questions in his big eyes. "Is everything okay, sweetheart?"

You stare back with flames in yours. You're basically breathing fire. "I don't know Ji. Are you okay? I don't know what was up with you today, but I don't want you to do something like that ever again. There's a difference between being dominant and being an asshole. Felix is one of my best friends and one of yours too. He really wasn't feeling well. You know I would never ever leave or cheat on you. He just needed comfort. I will not allow you to throw me around like a rag doll and act like that towards me or your friends."

His soft expression vanishes with your words. Suddenly, he looks like he's burning from the inside too. "Their hands were all over you today." 

"Their?" you furrow your brows in question. "What are you even talking about?"

"First, Seungmin pushes you, bruises you, and then keeps touching you while he apologizes. Then Felix whines and brings you on his lap. I don't get why they think it's okay for them to touch you like that." His hands tighten in fists while you stare at him in disbelief.

"What happened with Seungmin was an accident, and he was just APOLOGIZING! Felix was sad and needed a hug. We've always been like this. I don't know what's your problem, but you better figure it out."

His gaze zeroes on you, and he's fuming at this point. "My problem is that you are mine. No one else gets to touch you like that. Only I get to leave marks on your body. Only I get to have you writhing on my lap. Only me. I don't get why you don't understand that. I don't get why you're being such a brat right now."

"That's not what this is about. You being dominant and possessive in our private life is something. Having you push me out of a room and throw fits because our friends touched me in a platonic way is another. I'm not some object you can control to your will. If I decide to hug my friend for 30 fucking minutes because he needs it, it's no one else's business. Especially not you. I've had my fair share of experiences with toxic pricks. I need to make sure this is not happening again." 

Pleasure and toxic conduct are two different things. You won't let him get away with this behavior. Even if the tension in the room, the look he keeps giving you, and the way his eyes burn make you want to let him do anything he wants with you, you won't avert your gaze. You have a point to make, and won't shy away from it. 

You start to get nervous when he stays silent, but the way the fire in his eyes slightly dims makes you breathe a little easier. He walks up to you, and you keep your chin up, not showing one inch of weakness. He stops unbearably close, he's not touching you but every inch of your skin feels on fire by his simple proximity. "Listen," he starts in an ushed voice. "I'm sorry about today. I didn't want to make you feel like I was trying to control you. I respect you, and I would never want to make you feel like that. I want you to know I also apologized to Felix and Chan for my attitude. I know it wasn't okay. You just have this way of making me go absolutely berserk." You let go of a breath you didn't know you were holding, relief flooding your blood. "I think I got a little too carried away. I love feeling like you are mine and only mine. And after our little... adventure in the lunchroom, I think my brain was a little fogged up." Your cheeks flush at the mention of what you did. Phantom sensations of his fingers inside of you make shivers run down your spine. "Still, it wasn't okay for me to act the way I did. I truly apologize." His eyes connect with yours, and you only see soft and caring love in his dark orbs, even a hint of shame for the behavior he displayed. 

You feel your fears vanish into nothingness, "I appreciate your apologies, and I'm glad you apologized to the boys. They didn't deserve this. I love what we have going together, but I needed to make clear that I won't tolerate being used or treated like an object." He shakes his head with a nod. You can see he is taking everything you're telling him very seriously. "And I want you to know that I agree. Nobody else should touch me the way you did in that lunchroom earlier," you add with a tempting smile. "I am yours and only yours. Heart, body, mind, and soul." Your breath comes out in small puffs as you look at his plush lips.

"You are?" His own gaze keeps traveling from your eyes to your lips with a dizzying hunger. 

"I am completely at your mercy."

Your eyes lock one last time before he tilts the chair up and it hits the wall with a small thud. His hands are caging you while his lips smash against yours. The kiss he gives you makes your head spin and your pulse accelerate. The way his tongue slips against your own makes you moan in seconds. As suddenly as it started, the kiss ended. You open hazy eyes, a question on your lips, but one of his hands softly wraps around your throat while his feverish gaze burns through your skull. 

"You're my little plaything, aren't you? Just one kiss and you're already panting so much sugar." His eyes are basically undressing you. You feel his hand slip up your thigh to the center of your desire. You're whimpering before his fingers even reach your clothed core. He presses three digits on it once, making you melt on the chair under you. You're waiting for more, you need more but he's not making any further motion. He's looking at you like a predator ready to pounce on his prey and you feel your insides burn like molten fire. You know what he's waiting for. You know what you both need to hear to break past this tension point. 

You lean so close to him you feel his breath fan over your lips, and you're only staring at them when you utter your next words. "I'm a little plaything who needs to be reminded who they belong to."

It's all your boyfriend needs to dive back like a tidal wave, unleashing all the tension accumulated. In a second, your clothes are torn off your body. Soon, your legs are up in the air, your hands gripping his soft curls, and all you can feel is his hot mouth attached to your core as he feeds on you like a starved man.

[wave2tyun]

strawberry kisses | ☆

pairing: beomgyu x reader

genre: fluff

summary: when you accepted your boyfriend's sweet request to do his makeup, you weren't expecting the fiery turn that your little makeup session was going to take

warnings: none<3

word count: 875

a/n: reposting with much love for my dear 🐾 anon!!😼💞💞 to this day i still don't know what possessed me when i wrote this fic tbh ASBHJDBSJ my turn to experience this when.......?<//3

☆ = repost from my old blog!!

“ah-“ “-it’s so cold” beomgyu exclaimed, slightly moving away from you.

“stay still-“ you grabbed his face again, dabbing the concealer you had just put on his face with a sponge.

beomgyu had been all over you that night, begging you to recreate the makeup look you had on your last date with him. but he was just so cute doing it, there was no way you could ever refuse him. so now- here you were, beomgyu sitting down on the edge of your bed with you on a chair, leaning over to do the base of his makeup. your hands were shaking a bit, even though you weren’t gonna leave the house again after this was done. it was just beomgyu who got to see the result. perhaps that was actually the root of your worries, you were nervous whether beomgyu would like your work or not.

“my neck hurts” beomgyu complained again. you let out a laugh as you got up, wanting to get your eyeshadow palette from the nightstand.

beomgyu’s arms suddenly wrapped around your waist, bringing you down with him on the bed. “w-what was that for?” you asked, flustered by his actions.

“i think i like this position better- my neck feels more relaxed this way.” he replied with a shrug.

beomgyu’s hands rested on your waist as you straddled his hips and continued continued your work. sometimes his fingeres travelled down to your thighs, tracing patterns on the velvety material of your pants. you grabbed his face again. every single one of your touches had his body melting underneath you, he was so infatuated with you, simply letting you do whatever you needed without questioning anything. he was content watching you do your thing, enjoying how all of your attention was on him and him only.

“your eyelashes are so pretty” you whispered, putting on a light coat of mascara on him. your cold fingers touched his skin, soothing down the burning sensation that bloomed in his cheeks from such simple words. your hand slid down to take hold of his chin and lift it up “pout your lips for me gyu”

“do i get a kiss if i do that?” beomgyu asked you cutely, voice laced with honey.

you playfully tilted your head to the side “maybe” you teased.

beomgyu closed his eyes, pouting his lips exaggeratedly. the feeling of the lipstick touching him instead of your own lips made him open them again. beomgyu huffed; he looked at the floor, sulking, instead of looking at you. you held back the urge to laugh and carried on with the final step, blending the crimson color with the pad of your fingers, feeling his plush lips against your skin. you could notice the way his face lit up, eyes glistening with mischief from the idea that just crossed his mind. one way or another, he was going to receive the kiss that he wanted from you “you know what this lipstick would look good on?”

“hm?” you lifted your eyebrows, waiting for beomgyu’s response.

“you” he answered, giving you a quick peck, chuckling at your surprised face.

you glanced at his lips, smudged lipstick on his face inviting you to mess it up even more. you leaned down, moving away the bangs covering his face to return the favor.

the continuous tentative pecks slowly raised in intensity, and with each kiss you would linger against his lips more, blood rushing through your veins. beomgyu took hold of you, rolling you on the bed so that you could be the one underneath him. he held your wrists above your head with one hand, his other one playing with some strands of your hair as he left kisses all over your cheeks, red marks from the lipstick blossoming along, as a clear sign of his adoration towards you. beomgyu’s heart fluttered at the sight, he took the lipstick tube and placed it in your hand, silently asking for more. he pouted his lips once again, and this time, you couldn’t resist him. your lips captured his in a shy, chaste kiss before fulfilling his request. the corners of his lips turned up and he gazed directly into your eyes as you colored his lips again. then, his head dived down, painting your neck with the same crimson marks that adored your cheeks. he nipped and gently bit at your skin, his tongue swiftly gliding over those same spots, letting out a sigh as he let himself become more and more absorbed by you, the worry of keeping his makeup intact long forgotten. he covered you with his love, slightly pulling the collar of your shirt down to cover the area right underneath your collarbone with more kisses. as much as beomgyu relished telling you that he loved you, he was much fonder of showing his endearment towards you through actions. he loved seeing how you couldn’t control the blush rushing into your cheeks as he kissed you, how you held on tighter to the sleeves of his sweatshirt as he travelled down your body, soft gasps escaping past your lips whenever his kisses turned slow and sensuous.

his face came back up, rosy lips curving into a smirk as he looked at you again “what a beautiful sight”

[mauvecherie-writes]

“hi, it’s nice to meet you.” : k.powers

warnings: none.

note: a good ole’ surprise fic that I wrote in a couple of hours since his video is now a viral TikTok sound 😂. support the page any way you can girlies 😘 like, comment and reblog. this was supposed to be less than a thousand words 🫠.

w.c: 1.2K

It has been two and a half hours since you arrived at the event.

For some reason, the promotors really wanted you to come so they went out of their way of booking you a flight from your city to Sacramento and booking you a very suite at the Kimpton Sawyer Hotel. They had even offered to hire you a private driver but even, a woman who often didn’t say no to free things, declined the offer.

Instead, you had messaged some of your friends who were in the local area who had informed you that they were attending the event so you joined them. The event was a pretty successful one for the community. Celebrities and influencers alike would come from near and far to attend because of the safe environment it had cultured due to their strict rules. The event was a space for lovers and to find lovers, consent was heavily promoted and had security constantly surveying the space and the biggest thing you loved when the flyer was sent to you was the insistence to use your phone less and just be present in the moment.

The event, SweetOne, was working to bring back the clubbing culture of the old days with their own modern twist to it. An event where egos were left at the door and people met each other on a human level to connect. You were enticed by that (the $13,000 check for your promotion to your 8.9 million audience and appearance for the night was also a little push.)

So here you were, engrossed within the atmosphere as your body swayed to Body Party by Ciara as your friends cheered you on. The liquor had sunk deep into your veins and you were really letting loose for the first time in a long time. Your sultry black and gold mini halter dress sat on your curves, adding onto the sensuality of your impromptu performance. The bangs of your curled silk press fell over your eyes like a curtain as you sang along to the erotic lyrics.

“Woooo! You go girl!” Your friend, Nikki cheered you on as she recorded you. You turned around and held onto the bars that had been a supporting act to your dance. With your hands on either side of you, your hips swayed side to side.

“My body is calling you.” You sang as your eyes opened and by chance, met the ones that had been tracking your movements all night. Behind the brim of his cup, he was intently watching you with a dark glint in his eyes that amused you.

Your glossed lips curled into a smirk as you turned away from the handsome man and then you brought your performance to a close with your friends shouting for an encore.

“Next performance comes with a charge.” You winked at them as you stepped away from the edge of the section.

When you sat down, you couldn’t shake the vision of him watching you. He was a sight, himself. Chocolate brown skin with dark freckles scattered across his cheeks, a neatly trimmed anchor style beard sitting on the sharpest jawline you’d ever seen with your own eyes. It was too dim to see his haircut but you knew that his hair was short. You were also digging the way that was dressed. The light grey sweater snuggly fit around his long torso, highlighting his muscles.

The thing that captured your attention the most were his naturally pink tainted lips, that he seemed to lick very often. God, you were smitten and you had not shared one word with the man.

“Excuse me?” Your attention was called out of your thoughts and you snapped up to meet the eye contact of a server.

“Yes?” You enquired.

“The gentleman from across the room bought you this drink as a thank you for the performance.” The server said. Your cheeks warmly flushed before you scanned the room and met his eyes yet again. He slightly nodded his head and gave you a slight wink. You turned back to the server with a smile.

“Can you go back to the gentleman and tell him I’ll humbly accept his thanks if he brings the drink himself.”

The server smiled, nodded and then left. You eyeballed them as they walked across the room and back to him. They spoke, he bent down to get closer to hear the server speak. He was tall … even more interesting.

Then, he took the drink from the tray and began walking towards where you were. You took a deep breath as his height became more apparent.

“Hi.” The richness of his deep voice vibrated through you and settled in the pit of your stomach. You were fucked - you were a sucker for a good voice.

“Hi.” You breathlessly smiled up at him as you crossed your legs, putting your carved legs on display to his ravenous eyes.

“You said you wouldn’t accept this drink unless I brought it myself.”

“Mhm.” You nodded your head as you held eye contact, hoping to not let your attraction seep into your actions. “We’ve been tip-toeing around each other for most of the night. Someone had to make a move.”

He grinned and his white teeth shone at you. “I’m a little disheartened that it had to be you to make a move but I like your boldness. I like it a lot.”

“So, sit with me then.” You scooted a bit to the side, opening a space beside yourself. He placed the drink on the table in front of you and then sat down. That’s when you truly took in the beauty of this man. From his full yet neat eyebrows, his tapered sides and most importantly, just how pink his lips were up close.

“That was quite the performance you put.” He commented. And despite the shyness threatening to grip your senses, you rolled your eyes - downplaying the intention of your actions.

“It was nothing. I was just feeling the music that’s all.” You shrugged your shoulders as you reached for the drink he had purchased for you - a French 75.

“Your sentence seems to imply that you could do more than what you gave right now.” His eyebrow inquisitively raised up.

“Well, we’d need to at least be exclusive for that kind of performance.” You boldly stated as your body turned with your legs leaning towards his body. He let out a one syllable laugh as his head fell backwards. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. The length of his neck would be perfect beneath your fingers …

“So how do we get to that stage then?” He brought his head forward and turned to face you.

“Well, you can start by telling me your name.” He brought his hand forward, outreached for you to shake.

“Hi, I’m Keith. Nice to meet you.” You took his hand into yours and you couldn’t help but notice the difference and a shiver ran down your spine.

“Nice to meet you Keith. I’m YN.” You replied as you gazed upon his face. As he met your stare, the dark glint of desire was back with a touch of promise for more in them …

And your body and mind would be readily accepting of that.

————————————

reading list: @queenshikongo3 @dhlfastestlap @saintslewis @serpenttines-library @saturnville @hopefulromantic1 @cocobutterqwueen @bluesole16 @chaneajoyyy @emjayewrites @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @sapphireheaven @olyvoyl @lewisroscoelove @lh44adore @hellomadamebutterfly @scorpiobleue @qveenmelanink @tremendousstarlighttragedy @bekindbecoolbeyou @greedyjudge2 @itsapurrfectstorm @createdbylivingclocks @samiwzx @omgsuperstarg @peyiswriting @miyuhpapayuh @blowmymbackout @purplelewlew @henneseyhoe @perfecttrashface

[anantaru]

DAY 14 —YANDERE CORRUPTION

kinktober 2023. — masterlist | ao3

a/n. the albedo one got quite long and i adore how i wrote him there, i will definitely write a separate fic on this version of him in the future, enjoy!

𖧡 — including — lyney, albedo

𖧡 — warnings — fem! reader, angsty, yan! genshin men & manipulative genshin men, possessive, albedo without emotions, unhealthy behavior, unprotected syx, nipple play/tit play

𖧡 — LYNEY

lyney strangulates the sweltering tension linked on your bodies when he towers on top of you— and he proceeds slowly when he leans into your ear, certainly impressed that his calculations were proven to be right once again.

"i knew you'd come back to me." he breathes out a laugh, that for some reason harbored deep parallelisms to horridity, the tiny hairs around the back of your neck standing tall when you realize that, yes, quite frankly, you had returned to him even after you originally forced yourself to leave him behind.

with a planted kiss on your forehead, lyney steadies both hands around your thighs before feeling up your glistening pussy, his cock head roughing up and down your naked folds, leisurely gathering your arousal on his shaft to mock this situation more notably— the way you were already soaked without much required touches of him only further proved his point.

his rasping groans were continuously deepening but glimmered with an added pitchy timbre, yet were certainly nothing in comparison to the heavenly whines and whimpers you had hoped you'd be able to keep hidden in your chest.

"no, no, no," he mutters, distraught, and you flinch when he prods his rosy tip over your slit to make you sob at him, yet he still wouldn't move himself inside. "you need to be vocal with me, okay?" clearly, you weren't capable to see the danger of the situation, and it's ominously lurking like a frightening shadow on top of you, manifesting in the darkness of his eyes— his pupils lost on the brilliant twinkle around them that you originally fell in love with, his light bangs sticking to his forehead when he, at last, slides himself inside your cunt.

you toss your head into the pillows when he penetrates you, your legs instantly clinging around his waist as he fucks into the solidity of your slit, eagerly awaiting your noises whilst suffocating his own.

lyney cannot be louder than you right now, he had to hear you first— now, that your pussy was so tightly wrapped around his dripping cock, a brew of your arousal and his white pre trickling down his balls and seeping onto the silken bedsheets, staining the clean linen.

you drawl out the bundling moans in your throat all shakily as he carries on to pistol his thudding erection into you, the squelching noises only growing louder by now, buzzing through the darkened room as you lose any form of possible regret in you— his hands continuously tightening around your hips, lusting after wanting to feel more of you, the growing yearn for you, especially of how you're clamping down on his shaft and taking him like a second skin, sucking his length in as he grinds at the spongy patches on your sweet spots.

"that’s right, keep showing me how you feel, baby," lyney groans into your lips, eyes glazed with lust, "because— ah, fuck, you know i need to hear it." and you don't answer him with words, far too embarrassed that it had gotten to this point again, instead huffing out a pitchy weep, being unable to hear anything besides the ever-growing slap,slap,slap of your bodies colliding against each other, finding the skin so effortlessly well as lyney leans into your neck to meet your shoulder, mouthing over the wet spots before reaching your ear at last.

"because you know i'll never be able to let you go."

𖧡 — ALBEDO

"oh, when you look at me like that, my darling, what did you expect?"

with infinite tenderness, albedo kisses your chest after speaking with a weary resignation enlaced around his words, directly taking notice of the rapid thuds behind your ribcage— you're nervous, hanging on every word he said and each move he made.

the soothing trace of his lips prancing on your skin ignited the nerves of your body— the tranquil look on your soft features signalizing such, not to mention your high-lifting noises all together pulled his soul back inside of him, his cheeks bathing in a valentine-red when you squeeze your hips into his groin.

it makes albedo tilt his head with a small smile dancing on his face, all whilst his sunny, kind expression was silently melting off as his focused gaze shadows over your tied hands pushed above your head— an experiment, he might add, something he had originally proposed to you a while back, and thankfully you did give him your agreement to it, a shimmering layer of your sweat touching up your forehead as your breath stammers inside of you the moment he rolls the flat of his tongue over your nipples.

"i noticed—" he stops in midst his sentencing, his hot breath tickling the wet spots on your breasts before he hums to himself, "you like my usage of alternative names for you, am I correct?" he wraps his mouth around your tit before hollowing his cheeks whilst your heels dug into the mattress due to the sheer roughness of it— it's not like it doesn't feel nice, but it appears as if there was no sort of emotion webbed into his handle on your frame, yet your back arches like a bow despite your worry as he traps your nipple between his lips, all the while suckling harder until he lets it go with a loud 'pop'.

you paw around his soft locks before softening your fingers inside his hair, half-lidded eyes unable to ponder around the continues red flags ringing across your entire nervous system, "yes.." you huff out, his calculated ministrations coaxed twitch after twitch from your body, "it.. feels nice to hear it."

you're already so sensitive albedo cannot believe it, besides, he hasn't even laid his fingers on you that much— your soaked cunt was still untainted for the night, although fluttering around nothing but air and practically awaiting him bare and open.

"i will remember that." he says, stoic, and he always did, the most important tool in his life being knowledge and understanding more, understanding you or humans for that matter— just as during his experiments, you so happen to be of perfect help to him, your tits also always so extra reactive when albedo had them inside his hot mouth fusing his saliva with your fluids, it makes you shiver beyond any repair when he digs his tongue against the perky nipple while holding the other breast in his hand, perceiving the immediate kindness and obedience of your returning touch.

with the drawn out foreplay, you're on the brink of a sharp edge, bracing yourself before tangling your hands further into his silken hair, "albedo," you mutter, a blazing heat pummeling on top of your cheeks as his gaze meets yours instantly, "c-can you kiss me again?"

it's silent for a second, yet it felt like an eternal state of being before he props himself up by his hands and curves one palm around your cheeks, moving closer, his facial expression not showing much but he slants against you so close that your lips almost brush against each other, even though they ultimately didn't.

"for what matter?" he asks, and his question seemed genuine, almost as if he was only waiting to receive an answer and write it down somewhere, so he can further study human emotions and perhaps even copy some samples and integrate them in his life, to appear more normal, like he was a mortal being with functioning feelings.

"no reason at all." you bite back a whimper when his grip on you suddenly tightens a little, but then ultimately softens again, pushing himself off your body before resting his weight on his knees, keeping himself slotted in between your quivering thighs— the outlines of his growing erection were obviously drawn on his pants, his chest exposed with his shirt lazily dangling around his shoulders, his skin glimmering golden with no ounce of imperfections in sight.

"i must decline," the man coughs out into his fist, and you can feel the growing awkwardness inside of your chest but also the increase of irritation as to why he was removing himself all of a sudden. for whatever reason, you brace yourself again to ask him, instantaneously covering your naked chest before propping yourself up by your elbows and tilted your head to the side.

"why?"

"—that would give off the assumption, based on books I've read," he stammers, but quickly recollects himself, "that we are harboring some kind of romantic feelings for each other, which, is not the case."

—at least from my side."

your heart sinks into your chest at the realization of what his words truly meant— wow, who would’ve thought? even after all the countless situations you had aided him in his research, have even given him your body to continue his work and sometimes looked after him when he would forget to do so himself— only to be met with the bitterly cold, numbing feeling which was referred to as reality that the man in front of you, albedo, the chief alchemist, had no single sense of human emotions inside his body, besides the ones he acted out spontaneously, almost too perfectly, to make himself fit in.

©2023 anantaru's kinktober do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[lovebugism]

Bugggggg, my dear! I need to know what happens when Eddie climbs through that window with Gareth sisterrr!!!

thanks for being so patient while i wrote a part two! hope you like it!! — the one where eddie sneaks into his best friend's step-sister's bedroom, stealthy like a ninja tw for allusions to smut (2.7k, find part one here)

bug's summer fic fest ♡

Eddie shows up at your house at eleven, even though you told him to be there at midnight.

He couldn’t wait the extra hour to see you. It felt like it was eons away — a whole lot more than just sixty minutes. After dealing all day in ninety-degree heat, he was aching to rest his tired bones next to yours. His thoughts of you weren’t even sinful — which isn’t something he can say very often. 

The way he yearned for you was innocent, palpable, and suffocating. Like honey or the summer sun. It was something sticky and sweet, nostalgic and boyish.

It’s why he parks three houses down, just like you asked him to, and why he scales the trellis of your bedroom window with all the finesse of a dog on roller skates. 

You left your light on for him like you promised— a glowing yellow let he climbs towards. Your window is open, too. Eddie gets all twisted up in your lace curtains when he finally reaches the second story. His ankle gets caught in the pane. He catches himself before he tumbles to the ground entirely, his palms melting into your carpeted floor.

Half-stuck in your window, Eddie’s wide eyes flit around your bedroom. You’re nowhere to be found, but some upbeat pop song plays on the radio on the dresser beside a shut door — the bathroom, maybe. 

“You are the dancing, young and sweet, only seventeen!” Your voice is muffled as you sing along to the words. You sound like sunshine in the middle of a cool summer night.

With the knowledge that he didn’t make a complete fool of himself in front of you or anybody else, he crawls the rest of the way in and stands in the middle of your pretty pink bedroom. 

It’s as girly as you are, filled with everything grownups convince children they’re supposed to hate when they get older — teddy bears, dolls, and other heart-sharped trinkets. Everything’s frilly and pale pink, delicate like you.

The door clicks open. Eddie’s eyes widen when you and a warm steam comes spilling out. The smell of roses and vanilla twirls out just like you do. Clad only in a too big Fleetwood Mac t-shirt, and with wet hair dripping down your back, you sing into your hair brush.

“You can dance! You can jive! Having the time of your life—” You cut yourself off when you realize Eddie’s standing in the middle of your bedroom. You don’t scream, but you feel sort of like your heart has stopped as your hand flies to your mouth. “Oh, my god!”

“Sorry!” the boy apologizes through his laughter, palms spread out ahead of him in surrender. “I’m— I’m sorry. I should’ve… I should’ve knocked.”

You’re still a bit too frightened to laugh at his joke. You bring your palm from your mouth to your racing heart and exhale a sigh of relief. “You weren’t supposed to be here until midnight.”

Eddie beams when you rush to turn down your music, only because you aren’t looking at him to see it. Instead of telling you he couldn’t wait that long to see you, he jokes, “Oh, is it not twelve yet? My watch must be an hour fast.”

“Or maybe you just don’t know how to tell time, Eighty-Six,” you tease with a bright grin.

Eddie’s brows raise beneath his curly bangs. His own smile curls at his pink lips at your harsh joke. It comes from a too-pretty face for him to take offense to it. 

He wraps you in his arms when you walk over to him. His palms spread along your hips as your arms wrap around his neck. He tries not to shiver when your fingers trace the wild curls at the base of his neck.

“Well, that’s not very nice of you, now is it, princess?” he asks in the same sarcastic tone.

“Or maybe you just really wanted to see me?” you follow up with an innocuous shrug and a hopeful glint in your eye.

Eddie scoffs. “That is very presumptuous of you, sweetheart.”

“It’s only presumptuous if I’m wrong— which I know I’m not, so…”

“You sound very sure of yourself,” he quips with narrowed eyes.

You meet his look with a grin. “‘Cause I can read you like a book, Eddie Munson.”

You rise on the tips of your toes, pressing yourself further into him with the intent to taste his lips. He stops you before you get the chance. 

His chin jerks back, though it’s not exactly intentional. With your chest more intently pushed against his own, he can feel much more of you than he’s used to. Your stiff nipples are crushed between both of your bodies. His brain short-circuits accordingly.

Eddie covers it up with a mischievous smile. “No bra?”

“It’s your fault,” you pout, not swayed by his teasing.

“Is it?”

You nod, wide-eyed like you’re all innocent. “You got here too early. I was gonna put on makeup and a pretty dress for you and everything…”

Though Eddie’s heart swells at the thought, he shakes his head in response. The bridge of his nose scrunches as his hands rise from your waist. His palms are warm along your blushing cheeks. 

“I like you better like this,” he confesses quietly.

“Really?” you ask with pinched brows.

He shrugs. “Yeah. I mean, I love your glitter and skirts and your… everything, but… I don’t know. I think you look pretty like this, too.”

Your chest warms so suddenly, you think your heart might be melting. 

No one’s ever said anything like that to you before — not that you weren’t pretty, but that you were still pretty even when you aren’t trying to be. 

A heavy feeling swells behind your ribcage that makes you feel like crying.

“You don’t have to be so nice to me, you know?” you joke with a halfhearted laugh. “I’m already obsessed with you.”

His own chuckle spills from his pink mouth. “I’m being serious.”

“If you wanted a blowjob, you coulda just said—” 

Your grin is wide and mischievous, full of candor, as your hands leave his neck and fall to the silver buckle of his leather belt. The giddy smile fades when his fingers curl around your wrists to stop you. 

Eddie’s eyes fly open wide. His mouth falls softly agape, as though surprised by your forwardness, though he knows he should be used to it now. He stammers. “We don’t— I mean, we don’t have to—”

You step back like you’ve burned him. Your features flood in a similar horror. “Oh, sorry— I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have assumed—”

“It’s okay,” Eddie assures with a soft laugh to quell your worry. He chases you when you part from him and takes your wringing hands in his larger ones. “I know most guys sneaking into a girl’s room usually want one thing, so… It’s kinda my fault, actually.”

“And you don’t… You don’t want that?” you question with a furrow to your brow.

“No, I do! Trust me. I do, I just…” he trails off with a sigh. His chin tilts to his chest as he peers at you from beneath his lashes. There’s a twinkle in the deep chocolate of his eye. “I’d rather it be more romantic than, you know— than this.”

His hand motions somewhere beside him. You figure he’s referring to the scuff marks his sneakers left on your lace curtains.

You smile sheepishly as his wide palms engulf your own. “I wanna take things slow with you and… treat you right and everything…”

“That is very old-fashioned of you, Eddie Munson,” you croon lowly as you lean back into him. Your hands entwine when your chests push together all over again. His long fingers slot between yours as the tip of your nose traces the bridge of his.

“Maybe…” he hums in a sigh, the breath of it fanning over your chin. It smells like cigarettes and spearmint gum. “But also, if I’m gonna fuck you, I don’t want us to have to be quiet, you know?”

His eyes narrow with a mischievous squint when you part from him. You meet his smirk with a beam. 

“Like I said… Such a gentleman.”

You go in for a kiss, and this time he lets you. 

It’s much deeper than the one you shared behind the 7/11, but still just as pure. It’s full of honey and sunshine — your floral perfume and his muskier cologne — your candied breath and his nicotine-coated one. It’s filled with the innocence leftover from your lingering girlhood and his boyhood, both of which you’ve yet to grow out of.

It makes his mouth taste that much sweeter. It makes his lips that much softer. It makes you want to kiss the breath from his lungs, and it makes him want to swallow you whole.

—————

A breeze billows through the open window you forgot to close the night before. 

It smells like freshly cut grass and early morning dew and vaguely like teenage boy. It feels like silk as it rolls across your bed, though it’s cold enough to make you rouse. 

You feel the weight of Eddie Munson on your ribcage before you open your eyes to see him.

Your gaze is slow to clear, heavy with honey. You find the wild-haired boy snoozing on your stomach — long lashes brushing the apples of his cheeks, face smushed into your t-shirt, pink mouth agape to exhale soft snores against your ribs. The sight of him like this makes you feel a bit like you’re dreaming.

The two of you settled into bed some hours after midnight, equally fatigued after an intense bout of nonstop conversation. You’d been sharing a single pillow then, and trying very hard not to kiss him. 

“Wake me up before sunrise, will you?” he’d told you as his eyes drifted closed.

Your brows pinched together. “For what?” 

“So I can leave before everyone in your house knows I’m here,” the boy scoffed in a tired laugh. “Don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea, you know?”

You didn’t know what he meant by that. But rather than ask him, your brain shouted its own understanding at you — a blinking neon sign that was virtually unmissable. 

He must not want to be seen with me, the voice tells you. Maybe this isn’t as serious as I was hoping it’d be. Maybe we just have the night together, and maybe I have to be grateful I got it at all.

As though he could read your mind, a half-asleep Eddie Munson patched together your breaking heart without trying. “Don’t want your parents to think I’m just trying to get in your pants or somethin’… Also I’m pretty Gareth would kill me if he knew I spent the night here.”

He exhales a weary chuckle, and you force yourself to do the same.

It was never about you, but rather about the lingering implication that looked rather daunting from afar. 

The town freak sneaks into the bedroom of the local princess, and it’s certainly not to slay some sleeping dragon. It was a headline waiting to happen. No one would believe you if you told them Eddie was more interested in the stories behind each of your stuffies than he was in what your body looked like under your clothes.

You drifted off alongside him, expecting at least one of you to rouse before the sun came up. You quickly found that waking up from the best night’s sleep of your life was practically impossible. And with the way Eddie slumbers so soundly against your stomach, you figure he must be a lot of the same.

A smile quirks the corners of your lips as you look down at the sleeping boy. It’s too filled with exhaustion to be evident, but the sentiment is there and swirling like burning embers in your chest. 

Eddie rises and falls with each of your even breaths. His heavier ones are sighed in time with yours. He’s heavy like a weighted blanket. You hardly notice the burden of him now, but you’d feel the lack of him if he were gone. 

Ornery umber curls fall over his face, sticking to his cheek and his mouth. You reach down to sweep them away with a gentle hand, jerking back when Eddie huffs and shifts against you.

“Shit. Sorry,” you apologize in a whisper. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

The boy sighs deeply through his nose and smushes his face back into your stomach. Still half-asleep, he slurs, “’S okay. Keep doing that. It felt good.”

You exhale a breathy laugh and return your hand to his hair. Your fingers dance through the curls at the crown of his head as you massage his scalp. You feel the warmth of his sigh when it fans against you, and you smile. 

“Sorry for not waking you up,” you confess in your second apology of the morning. 

Eddie’s breath jerks suddenly. You think it must be his drowsy laughter. “‘M sorry for using you like a pillow all night.”

“I kinda liked that, actually,” you admit with a scrunched nose and distant smile.

The boy lifts his cheek from your stomach and replaces it with his chin. He grins at you — plush, pink, and heavy like syrup. His chocolate eyes are a lot of the same. They’re swollen with sleep but twinkling with early morning adoration nonetheless. 

“And I’m glad you didn’t wake me up, so… I guess we’re even then, huh?”

He rises with a grunt. The mattress shifts under his weight as he leans his lankier body against yours. He props himself on the forearms he lays on either side of your head. His nose nudges against the tip of yours. You’re moments away from tilting your chin and pressing your mouth against his, morning breath and all, but a knock at your door throws a wrench in your plans. 

“Mom wants to know if you want pancakes,” Gareth calls from the other side of the entrance.

“Yes, please!” you singsong in response. 

You’d be an idiot to turn them down. Gareth’s mom makes the best breakfast this side of Indiana has ever seen. You figure you’ll have to find a way to smuggle some to Eddie before he leaves, so his lips will taste like your favorite food when you kiss him goodbye. Maybe that’ll hold you over until you can sneak him in again—

“What about you, Eddie?” Gareth calls again with a knowing inflection in his muffled voice.

It makes the both of you freeze. 

Eddie hardens like a rock on top of you, and not in the way that you’re used to. 

His eyes widen as he looks down at you, finding nothing but your own look of gaping horror. You shake your head at him — a silent plea to stay silent — even though you know that Gareth is somehow aware of his best friend’s company.

Eddie’s brain short circuits, and the words spill out before he can stop them. “Uh… Nope! I’m— I’m good.”

“Suit yourself…”

The boy’s footsteps recede down the hallway. 

Eddie exhales an embarrassed groan as his head falls to your shoulder. He tucks himself into the nook of your neck with the intent to hide there. His soft, untamed curls tickle the skin of your chin and jaw. 

Despite your own lingering mortification, your hands curl under his arms and sprawl along his shoulder blades — keeping him intently pressed against you. “How did he…?”

“I don’t know,” Eddie laughs against your skin before you can finish the question. His face finds yours again, and he shrugs. “I mean… I guess I wasn’t as stealthy as I thought when I climbed through your window.”

“Really?” you hum. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“It was your curtains. They were trying to kill me, princess, I swear.”

“Well… At least, now we don’t have to worry about telling him,” you reason, even though your voice trembles.

Eddie’s grin wavers just the same. “Yeah, let’s hope he doesn’t punch me over pancakes and orange juice or something today.”

Your head tilts to your shoulder as you smile up at him. Your hands fall from his shoulders to cup his jaw. “I’d patch you up,” you promise quietly as you pull him down for a kiss. 

Eddie gravitates toward you like he was made to do it. His mouth falls agape to accept your own before he realizes. You taste like flowers and early morning and the rest of his life.

A punch in the face would be worth it if he meant he got to taste you forever.

[dhampling]

Your fics/headcanons give me the feeling of eating freshly baked cookies with warm milk while wrapped in a blanket fresh from the dryer. Just so sweet and comforting. Your post the other day about the number of kiddos he'd want got me wondering: how would astarion handle his partner being in labor? I feel like he would be freaking out so badly internally but trying so hard to keep it together for them. Does it get easier with each baby? Does he cry each time? Also, I had this image in my mind of him introducing the older girls to their new baby sister each time and just being sweet and cute with his growing family and I'm dyinngggg. Thank you again so much for all the wonderful fics sorry this message was kinda all over the place I LOVE YOU. ❤️

hello my sweet angel!!! firstly - you inspired me. I'm inspired. i wrote something based on the introducing the siblings idea. see below!

He’s not sure he’ll ever tire of it.

Feign exasperation, absolutely. Roll his eyes in jest, move things along with the smallest ‘away, away’ of his free hand at the faces pressed against the inside of the kitchen window as you both approach the house in a beleaguered stumble - snout noses and wide grins, breath fogging the glass trying to gain a glimpse. Incredulously sigh at the fact that it’s just a baby.

It looks like a baby. Sounds like a baby. Smells like a baby. The house tends to have at least one kicking about at any given time, gods; there’s absolutely nothing unfamiliar nor noteworthy about a baby dhampir in Baldur’s Gate at this point. If anything, he’d be surprised if the townsfolk weren’t banging down his door come morning with a council-endorsed petition to encourage him to stop breeding the little shits.

Frenetic. He’s still practically vibrating with adrenaline from the birth still. Shaky hands stilled under the weight of the baby basket. Legs flying.

Another girl, obviously. Another ‘A’ name conjured from the recesses of his ancient wisdom. Some variation of a label he saw in an apothecary a week ago - you’re past the point of putting too much thought into their names, a fact that becomes obvious to anyone who lends it too much of a thought.

Apothecary. He ponders the viability of that one. Apothecaria? Apothe. Antiseptic. Asbestos. Arugula.

Fuzzy as the door swings open into the night and the stew-warmth of the kitchen bleeds outside. He holds the door, the carrier containing the baby; hospital bags strapped to his back, the weight of another little thing on his conscience. A pack mule. He pulls a face.

The eldest steps from the sitting room through the parted gaggle of waiting Ancuníns and takes a look at the new addition.

A brief moment passes.

Then she smiles as anticipated, nodding her approval - a time-honoured tradition in your household ever since the second was unleashed unto her sister - before falling to the back of the crowd, pulling out a chair for an exhausted you; and resigning from her primary carer duties for the evening.

It’s bittersweet. At this point, Astarion can never be sure if this time, the whole bustling through the doorway in the middle of the night with a newborn thing; will be the last.

But as each previous youngling steps in line to greet the newest addition to their chaotic sisterhood, he finds himself looking over to you fondly. The way your hand still rests atop the round of your belly, the other supporting your head as your elbow rests firm on the table. Cheeks aflush, lids drooping closed with each breath; and yet you sit there instead of retiring straight to bed to watch them.

Their eager faces, hushed whispers; fingers poking and prodding the small exhausted thing presented to them once more. Rolling her name around their mouths to get used to the sound. You watch each movement with a warm heart and dopey grin.

Obviously you want this again. He wants this again. This moment of soft whispers and unfettered love amongst siblings.

No, he resolves;-

this won’t be the end.

-

i LOVED THAT SO MUCH. THANK YOU.

with regard to the labour:

astarion cries with the first two babies.

after that, he realises it's probably more important to be supportive to his partner at this moment in time.

he can compartmentalise any emotions he's having with the logic that they can wait, honestly.

none of his worst fears are going to materialise, he knows this now. he's done it before.

with the later babies he's a pro.

he even has the nerve to sit there and exclaim at points that he's bored, and that you need to hurry home as he has a client coming to the shop later.

despite both knowing it's a jest, this always earns him a pillow to the face.

THANK YOU NONNIE!!! I LOVE YOU!