#it had mostly been lowering my expectations but still

[memento-fugaces]

.

[lovifie]

Well, I Wasn't On That Tunnel ❤️

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Please don't look too much into the plot holes. Canon can suck my ass, I'm making my own, xoxo 💋

Pairings: Ghoap x Reader.

Warnings: Poly relationship, mentions of death, mentions of guns, rotating POV (mostly Simon's), Spoilers → amnesia, smut, voyeurism

“THE TUNNEL IT'S COLLAPSING! FOLLOW MAKAROV! I'LL TAKE JOHNNY OUT!”

That was the last thing Ghost heard of you.

It's been months since Johnny and you were declared KIA on that mission. 

You weren't even meant to be inside, you were the medic, you were supposed to wait outside. 

But the moment Makarov shot Johnny he panicked.

Ghost panicked.

And Simon panicked.

You came in running, panting for the effort of carrying with you the medical bag half your size. 

You were the one who told them to run. To go after Makarov and kill him. 

You were trying to wake up Johnny, Ghost knew it was a lost cause. He couldn't find the pulse, he was gone.

His Johnny was gone.

The last thing he expected was that he was about to lose you too.

Once outside, he kept looking at the tunnel. Waiting for you to come out, whether it was dragging Johnny's body or alone; it didn't matter. You needed to get out.

But after the tunnel collapsed and you didn't get out, it was Price who finally pushed Ghost away.

He barely remembers getting back to base, doesn't remember what Price kept telling him on the helicopter, doesn't remember skipping meals for days, doesn't remember crying himself to sleep for weeks.

But he remembers your face, he remembers Johnny's face.

Oh, what a coward he was. 

Two people that he loved, that found their way under his skin right into his heart. Two people that Simon wanted to grow old next to, two people that made Simon want to wake up every morning. 

And he was still not brave enough to confess his feelings to neither of them.

He used to stay awake late at night dreaming about how he would do it. After a long time of debating with himself, figuring out what those feelings inside of him were.

Until he figured out it was love, only to them have to face the complex situation of loving two people at the same time.

But even how complicated of a man Simon Riley was, when it comes to his wants it all turns simpler. If on the menu there are two dishes that he likes? He is getting both, obviously. Why choose?

So if all his lonely and twisted life he had never loved anyone, now he suddenly fell in love with two people. He wasn't going to give up one of them and their love just for society's norms.

Murder is also against society’s norms, and he gets paid for it. 

But it was too late now.

Maybe it was for the better.

He could lie to himself, agree that he never confessed because it was not his destiny. 

Not because they would have not loved him back. 

Not because they would have been scared of him.

Not because they wouldn't have been able to see past his mask. 

Not because they would have rather dated each other than him.

It's easier like this.

Simon knows how to mourn a loved one. 

What he doesn't know is, how it's possible he got a message from you this morning when you died four months ago.

You are stepping out of the shower, skin warm from the water and baby hairs sticking to your forehead; when someone knocks on the bathroom door.

You furrow your eyebrows at how hard they knock, the whole door shaking with it.

“Calm down, I'm almost finished.” You grumble, pulling the towel around your body. 

You drag your feet over the towel on the floor to walk closer, and open the door annoyed by the insistent knocking.

“I told you I am almost finish-” Your words are cut off by the barrel of a gun right on your face.

You don't even have time to panic, because you immediately recognise the stupid skeleton gloves holding the gun.

“Simon?” You whisper,scared that if you talk any louder he will disappear. Price and Gaz are behind him, slowly lowering their gun when they see it's you.

There is a glistering layer over Ghost's eyes that if you didn't known any better you'd think are tears.

You push his gun down, the man still immobile as if you were the ghost; and you jump into his arms, circling his neck with your arms.

“It worked! It finally worked!” You exclaim, tears slowly running down your cheeks. “I have been trying to contact any of you for months, it finally fucking worked!”

Ghost struggles to tell whether you are laughing or crying, a mix of the two. But he can't focus on that, he can only focus on your skin under his gloves.

God, how he hated his gloves right now. 

He bites the tip of his finger, pulling the glove off spitting it somewhere. And he snakes his hand under your towel.

He knows is improper, perverted even; but he needs it. He needs to feel your warm skin under his palm, your heart beating loud and fast. 

He surrounds your waist, hands big enough to rest on your ribs, right under your chest. 

Boom, boom… boom, boom… boom, boom…

He sighs, melting onto you, his tears getting absorbed by the mask on his face. He hugs you tighter, daring you to slip from his fingers again.

He bites his lips, copper taste on his tongue, to prevent himself from sobbing.

But the sobs can be heard, and Ghost it's almost disappointed with himself until he notices your body shaking.

It's you who is crying.

And he panics again, pulling back to look at you and you cup your face, apologizing. 

“I'm sorry. I tried my best, I really did.” He can barely understand what you are trying to tell him between sobs. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry.”

He shushes you quickly, he understands; the survivor’s guilt is a special kind of poison. But he understands, he feels it too. 

“It's alright, love. You are alright, everything is going to be alright.” He hugs you again, resting your head on his chest. Mourning Johnny will be easier if you are together, he now hates himself for thinking you were dead; for accepting it.

For mourning you for months and now having you on his arms. 

Warm and breathing. 

He can only imagine what you went through. 

You entered the tunnel because he called for you, and then he left you inside with a corpse. 

How did you get out?

How did anyone see you get out?

How did you find a house?

How did you survive alone with the guilt?

Are the scars on your shoulder for getting out or were they always there?

Were you trapped under the debris?

For how long?

But that doesn't matter, he knew you were strong. That you were clever. That you were better than him. 

He already knew that. 

Gaz and Price remain silent, reading in the situation that there is something underlying that they don't know. Letting the two of you, have your moment. 

It's only when Gaz hears the almost unnoticeable steps get closer that he moves, turning his body and almost dropping his weapon in the process when he sees him.

“Johnny?” That's all he is able to see.

And that's all that is needed to hear.

Price and Ghost whip their head around like they have been smacked, coming face to face with the man.

There are still bandages on the side of his head, he looks thinner, less muscles, sunken eyes and dark bags. But it's Johnny. 

A scarred, angry Johnny. 

Holding the pistol on his hands pointing to Ghost's head.

Looking at him as if Simon was his greatest enemy.

“Johnny…” He tries to talk to him, keeping you behind his back by instincts.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP! WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?” Johnny shouts, his hands are shaking.

That explains it, why he look like a madman, why he looks so scared under the rage, why he keeps trying to look under him.

“Johnny, it's alright.” You finally say, moving from behind Ghost, softly pushing his arm back. You walk ahead, still only on the towel; and you walk up to Johnny. You rest your hand on the pistol, pushing it down with ease. 

You raise your other hand to the men, the signal of “wait”.

Johnny looks at you with utter confusion, eyes shaking moving around your face for any kind of explanation. His hand move around you, checking for any damage; the hand that doesn't have the gun clinging to the towel. 

You cup his face between your hands, the man bending down slightly to make it easier for you to reach; you whisper something to him making him relax almost immediately. 

And then you kiss him.

On the cheek, right beside the nose making him close his eyes for a second.

But it feels like a stab on Simon's heart. 

He tries to think rationally, you were just calming him down. He knows Johnny is always desperate for physical contact, that's all. Nothing else. 

He really tries to think logically, but logically the two of you are dead and buried under a tunnel. Not standing at the end of the hall, kissing and comforting each other. 

Something about it, about the possibility there is something more going on between Johnny and you; sends Simon's inner gears spinning. 

He sees the virtual space between the two of you, slowly getting in the shape of his body.

You whisper something to Johnny, he nods, touching your forehead with his for a second, before walking back. Looking at Simon with hate on his cerulean blue eyes. 

You sigh, watching Johnny move and turn to the three still shell-shocked. 

“As far as I can tell…” You whisper, once you are close to them. “He only remembers up to when he was 20, little more, little less.”

“So he doesn't remember anyone?” Price asks after a moment.

You shake your head. “Not that he hasn't asked me about, he asked about some people but I don't know them. He thought I was a nurse when he woke up.” You explain.

“What happened in the tunnel?” Gaz asks, looking behind you to check Johnny is not back. “How did you get out? And him? He was dead.”

You shake your head again. “Not yet. Almost… but not yet. I-”

“Bonnie! You want coffee or tea?!” Johnny's voice makes everyone jump.

“Coffee, please!” You answer without skipping a beat and turn to them. “I'll explain it later, alright? It's not the place nor the time.”

Price nods once. “Get dressed, I'll contact the pilot to let them know we are flying back tonight, right?”

“Roger that.” The three of you reply almost by muscle memory.

“I'll be fast, don't rile him up.” You say, before entering the bedroom closing it behind you.

Ghost feels Price's eyes on him. 

Wondering.

Asking.

What's between you and him?

What's between you and Soap?

What's inside his mind?

“Tea is ready.” It all gets interrupted by the amnesiac man calling them to the kitchen.

They walk together, sitting around the table. Gaz and Price find it almost easy to talk to Soap, about how happy they are to see him again, about how they are flying back later, easy chatter.

But Ghost can't. 

Not when Soap finally smiles at Price making fun of Gaz's cap and Ghost's breath is knocked out of his chest. 

That's his boy.

Breathing and warm.

Just like you.

He knows it's the universe talking, telling him not to fuck it up again.

Still, he feels his heart sink every time Soap looks at him with such a sour look. Offended even. His boy.

That would jump at any opportunity to impress him, to earn his respect, his affection. Now locked like he wanted to stab him on the chest, twisting the knife in the process.

He knows it's because of you, the way the man stared at his hand as you pushed it out of the towel didn't go unnoticed by Simon. 

Not the greatest first impression. 

Does it count as a first impression if he has known the man for years? 

You walk into the kitchen not much later, Johnny's eyes lightening at seeing you; his saviour. 

You walk past Ghost, your arm resting on his shoulder as you bend down to slightly knock your head against Soap's.

And that's it, that all Simon's needs. To be involved. He doesn't need to be in the middle of you two, he is fine with being in the sidelines, but he needs to be a part of it.

He knows you are on his side, you remember him unlike Johnny. You can be the bridge to get him to Johnny; to keep Johnny from running. Make a pack with him; keep the two of you close.

A turmoil of emotions keeps spinning inside Ghost's head, all the versions of himself wanting to be right.

The part of him he thinks is unable to love telling him to let the two of you alone, you are better of without him.

The part of him he thinks is unable to be loved telling him to not even try, save himself the rejection. 

The part of him that is still unsure of what even are his feelings telling him to not get involved, that it would only confuse the two of you.

But then there is also that part of him. The part called Simon Riley; that still holds onto the chance of loving and getting love.

And he looks at you and Soap, the way Soap looks up to you. The way he used to look at him. 

“Let's pack our things up, Johnny.” You say, patting Soap’s back. “The sooner we are back home, the better.”

And you smile at Soap so kindly, so wide, so warm.

He understands how you managed to calm Soap down. Waking up from what he assumed must be something close to a coma after getting shot on the head, not remembering anything, in pain, alone. And then you appeared, so soft and so kind.

He wouldn't blame Johnny if he was already in love with you, with you being literally the only thing he knows since waking up. 

Johnny stands up, walking out of the kitchen but looking back to make sure you are walking behind him. 

The two of you disappear down the hall, voices low as you move away.

“I can't believe they are alive…” Gaz comments, sipping his tea.

“Neither do I…” Price answers, sipping his. “Bloody necromancer…”

And you are, Simon was also dead before meeting you. 

“I'm gonna check on them.” He says, downing the beverage on a gulp that burns down his throat. 

He stands up, Price and Gaz look at him as he does. They are going to talk about him as soon as he gets out, but he doesn't care. 

He has made his choice.

He loves you.

He loves Johnny.

He walks down the hall, seeing the door ajar.

His hand reaches the knob when he hears it.

His blood running cold.

“Johnny…”

It's your sweet voice moaning the name. 

The unmistakable sounds of kisses inside the room.

“I don't like how he looks at you, bonnie.” The man whispers, his breathing unstable.

“He's your best friend, Joh-Ah!” You moan, interrupting yourself as you speak.

“I don't care! I don't know him. You are mine!” The man grunts, the sound of skin slapping slowly becoming more and more clear. 

“Johnny…” You moan again, and Simon is sure that he can hear your cunt squelch around Johnny's length. 

He opens the door the slightest bit, just enough for his eyes to see the way Johnny has you bent over on the bed. 

With you laying on your stomach on the bed, legs hanging from him without strength to push yourself up. Johnny behind you, a foot on the ground and the other on the mattress as leverage to keep sinking into your weeping cunt.

Neither of you bothered to take off the clothes, simply lowered the pants enough for Johnny to get inside of you. Your pants pooling on your ankles, legs limp with the rhythm Johnny has settled.

Simon wishes he could see your face, pleasure painted on your expressions with your face buried on the mattress. Johnny keeps your hands on your back, keeping you pressed against the bed. But the only thing he can see is Johnny's back.

So he sees perfectly fine when the man turns his torso around, still thrusting into you, and looks at Simon.

He looks straight into Simon's eyes, who panic just for a second for getting caught peeking into their room, into them together.

But the Johnny smiles, not the adoration-filled smile he used to gift Simon with. Instead, is the smile filled with pride that he only kept for after winning a match or catching an enemy.

Johnny raises his hand to show him his middle finger.

As he mouths “Fuck you.”

And Simon wants to laugh.

Johnny wants to play?

Then they'll play.

Game's on.

@waiting-so-long

Taglist: @whos-fran @thevoidwriting @sklt987659 @kayden666 @dumb12bvtch1212 @thatonepupkai @darkangel4121 @risingofjupiter @spadekip @herefor-tojis-tits @soupinasock @marymustdie @arbesa-mind @cmbghost @multifandomheathenannie @tooloudarts @panikk-attackkk @reap3erslov3 @mothsdrabbles @ghosts-hoe @cassiecasluciluce @sleepdeprivedkat @lunamoonbby @hatterripper31 @contractedcriteria @cod-z @jaguarthecat @savagemickey03 @fraserbraw @rosiehale23 @keiva1000 @sw33tsnow @viisgrave @theloneshadow24 @loveandplanet @sobbingnshtting @dprmoon @simpsallthetime1997 @ladyxtiger @soapsmohawk-16 @nina6708 @katreintjie @sacvh @mothymunson @archenillo @thesinsoflust @sodavrr @yuki2129 @mikaronn

[talesofesther]

first in my heart

Astarion Ancunin x Reader

Summary: Astarion hasn't seen his own face in 200 years and this bothers you deeply. You find a solution to finally show him how you see him, yet it leads to much more than simply that.

A/N: Gotta thank my sweet @iamnicodemus for encouraging me to write this. Undoubtedly one of the sweetest things I've ever written.

Word count: 4,7k

Masterlist

"I've never even seen this face. Not since it grew fangs and my eyes turned red."

It was something that lurked in the corners of your mind, those words of his. No matter how many days passed, you couldn't shake them off. It saddened you deeply. Each new passing mention about the last two centuries of Astarion's life drove a knife into your heart and twisted bitterly.

To the naked eye, it was imperceptible, never there. Even now, as you sat around the warm bonfire, watching as the pale elf bickered halfheartedly with Gale, he seemed as ordinary as your group of misfits could be. His smile loose, adorning those sharp fangs you'd become quite familiar with; silver hair curling delicately around pointy ears; deep red eyes reflecting the fire embers with a unique shine whenever he'd steal glances at you. He was the embodiment of lightheartedness and witty remarks, eccentric, unbothered, and with a quick tongue for anything.

And yet, he wasn't, not always. You felt secretly privileged, in a way, to be able to see the real him—to be allowed to. To hold him close when he wakes up gasping for air he didn't quite need and with watery eyes in the dead of the night; to softly kiss each and every scar on his back, whispering promises of love where before he had only known pain; to remind him again and again of his worth.

Astarion had a side to him you were slowly uncovering; you think, that he himself is only now uncovering as well. Vulnerable and fragile, broken but not beyond repair, yearning to be cradled by gentle hands.

He deserves to be mended, you know it in your heart. To get back what was taken from him. And you wanted to help, if only a little.

Earlier today as you ventured through Baldur's Gate, you stumbled upon a discarded sketchbook. It was a little dirty and a little worn, but it was still very much usable. Amidst your—many—questionably valuable loot, you knew you had a few good pencils to spare too.

It's been long since you picked up some paper and let your mind run free—before your whole adventure, to be precise. Maybe you'd be a little rusty around the edges and it would take a few tries to get him close to perfect, but you had time; or, you'd make time. He deserved as much.

⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆

The lines that made him him came almost like second nature to you, maybe because you'd traced those same features with your fingertips countless times before within these last weeks. Ever since he admitted he'd fallen for you beyond his plans of seducing you, things had been easier, lighter. He allowed himself to be cherished and you were more than happy to do so.

A faint smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you created curly strands of his hair with your pencil. Delicate and precise, even for the mess that was his curls.

The sky bathed in shades of orange, pink, and baby blue as the sun lowered in the distance. The camp was as lively as it usually was during the evenings. Karlach was playing fetch with Scratch and the Owlbear cub, the latter who was mostly just running around aimlessly. Gale and Wyll were hunched over the fire doing something you could only hope wouldn't end in mild disaster. Lae'zel sharpened her blades, a scratching sound piercing your ears from afar. Shadowheart looked to be in deep conversation with Astarion, to which the vampire gestured wildly as he apparently tried to make a point.

You never expected that your unfortunate encounter with a mind flayer would give you a makeshift family, but you were thankful that it did. For better or worse, you were all in this together, and that was comfort and motivation enough.

With the strangely soothing sounds of laughter and bickering, you turned your attention back to your sketchbook. Going back one page, you had already finished a rough sketch of Astarion's profile, focused on the contrast of his sharp nose and soft curls. Now, on the next page, you were working on a more elaborate portrayal of his features, depicting a look he often wore when you sauntered over to him; the faint smile on his lips that had grown all the softer ever since you first met; the gentle tilt of his head as his eyebrows scrunched expectantly; the sharp and alluring eyes who could pierce into your soul.

"What are you up to, my sweet?"

The sudden honey-coated voice startled you, you jumped slightly on your seat and hastily covered the pages on your lap with your forearms.

The elf himself stood only a few feet in front of you, his lips pursed and an eyebrow raised in curiosity as he tried to peek past your arms.

You chuckled timidly, "Nothing, I was just- just resting a bit." Shrugging nonchalantly as you smiled.

Astarion narrowed his eyes at you but didn't push it, he never did. "Gale is trying to make us something to eat with what he got from the vendors today," he gestured behind himself and to the fire where Gale stood in front of, "I wouldn't be the first to try it out if I were you but I'm dying to know everyone's opinion on it." A sly smirk got his fangs poking out, "bonus points if someone vomits it out."

You shot him an amused look, biting back a laugh. You never quite got why he had this little rivalry with Gale—besides the fact he wasn't overly fond of Gale's flirting attempts with you in the beginning, but that had long since subsided. To be honest, you think it's more routine than anything else at this point, for show and amusement; a friendly rivalry.

Slightly cold fingertips caught hold of your chin when you didn't answer, his thumb pressing against the corner of your mouth as Astarion held you. "Do join me, will you?"

The smile you still wore shifted into something sweeter, reserved only for him. And you leaned into his touch, closing your eyes momentarily. "I will… in a moment."

Astarion blinked at your briefly evasive answer, but nodded anyway, "I'll… be waiting."

He walked away, slow steps taking him towards the commotion around the campfire. You felt a little bad for denying him company right away, but it was for a good cause, you had to follow your streak of inspiration if you wanted to finish the drawing to the best of your abilities.

⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆

Dinner proved to be pleasant, tasty even, for Gale's culinary standards. This time of day had to be one of your favorites, with everyone sitting together around the fire at night and forgetting about life's misfortunes for a moment.

You sat by a rock, leaning your back against it as your shoulders shook with laughter at one of Halsin's stories. Astarion had plopped down by your side not long ago, the weight of his shoulder resting against yours as comforting as it always was. He took just a while longer to take your hand in his tonight, cold fingers hooking around yours and squeezing as he brought your joined hands to rest on his thigh.

Everything felt so new, you thought of yourself as a giddy teenager sometimes; heart fluttering with each lingering touch and stolen glance. For most of the time, you let Astarion set the pace of things, giving him the freedom to choose to be by your side. And there wasn't a time when he chose not to be.

He played with your fingers, palm to palm as if to compare sizes, alluring red eyes focused solely on where you touched. Innocent, boyish even. It was new for him too, you thought, perhaps much more than it would ever be to you.

And then your mind drifted back to the gift you had been steadily creating for him, excitement twirling in your stomach. You leaned closer, lips brushing the fabric of his shirt on his shoulder, "I'm gonna head to my tent for a bit, got a few things to organize. I'll find you later, yeah?"

A low hum fell past Astarion's lips, his eyes flicked to you, all big and vulnerable. "Oh, alright," his voice quiet and sweet.

You smiled, squeezed his hand, and planted a kiss on the corner of his lips. His eyes never left you as you walked away.

⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆

It had never been on his plans, falling for you. It wasn't even something he considered would happen when he first started to slip a few honeyed words your way. But then you threw his heart off course with your tender touches and whispers of comfort, leaving telltales of your warmth all over his cold body. And he was a goner.

The last time Astarion dared to care about someone, he endured a year of punishment locked away, alone, starving, and crying for help that wouldn't come. There had been a fear, clawing at the back of his mind as he watched himself crumble for you; a fear that this would end much the same.

When he finally bared his heart for you—shaking like a leaf with the proverbial organ stretched out in his hands—he expected you to deny him, scream at him, maybe even send him away.

You didn't.

You said you cared for him. You hugged him.

There was no one else in the world like you, he decided.

Three dangerous words lingered on Astarion's tongue each time he woke up to your sleeping form beside him. For the time being, he settled for kissing the shape of them into your skin, over and over, until maybe one day you figured it out.

He scoffed at himself, finally tearing his gaze away from where you sat on the other side of the camp. If his much younger self saw him now, he'd probably be laughing. Or he'd be very envious. No in-between.

Stars danced in the night sky, alongside a half-moon dusted with faint clouds. It was late, most of the group had already turned in for the night, with Karlach keeping watch, as much to her dismay, it was her turn.

Astarion ran his tongue over his fangs, grip tightening on the book he had in his hands. He'd been trying to read the same page for minutes now.

There was no one else in the world like you. He wondered when you'd realize that. When you'd realize that you were infinitely too good for the likes of him.

With a shiver running down his spine, Astarion worried that you might have started to.

It's been a few days now that you've been… distant; tucked away in your tent whenever you settled camp, not sparing him much time of day, at least not nearly as much as you used to.

With an annoyed click of his tongue, as he closed his book, Astarion realized he missed you, even with you sleeping side by side each night. How needy of him.

But he missed your mindless talks by the fire as everyone settled in for the night; he missed your walks through town just before sunset or sunrise; he missed the causality, the simplicity of calling you his. He'd gotten used to the sweet routine quite quickly.

The thought that you might already be growing tired of him made his dead heart clench agonizingly inside his chest. He glanced back at you, hunched over your makeshift desk as you scribbled something down in a book, Scratch lying by your feet. That is a kind of pain he wasn't sure he could endure.

Perhaps against his better judgment, his feet carried him to you anyway; yet he hesitated, words heavy on his tongue. Astarion stood awkwardly behind you, fidgeting with the edges of his shirt and praying that anyone who might still be awake wouldn't look this way. Scratch raised his head when the elf approached, a whine coming from him as his head tilted from side to side as if he wanted to ask what was wrong. Seems even the dog pities his predicament.

Old habits die hard and Astarion couldn't help but assume the worst, every time. He doesn't know how to be with someone, doesn't know the first thing about being in a relationship—was that what you two had? It's not like you ever labeled it. Maybe he did something wrong, and that's why you've been limiting your time with him.

"Astarion?"

With several blinks, his eyes focused again, only to see you regarding him with a frown, hand resting atop the closed book you had been writing in. Now your head was the one tilting inquisitively.

"Is everything okay?"

Still, your voice would always be sweetest to his ears.

Astarion shook his head softly to clear the fog his insecurities had brought and plastered a smile on his lips. "Of course, my darling," he approached, extending a hand to your sitting form and twirling a strand of your hair between his fingers, "I just think you should be getting your beauty sleep by now. Come warm up my bed, won't you?"

The faint blush that dusted your cheeks whenever he sweet-talked you would never cease to endear him. "We can read that book you're so fond of if you don't want to sleep, the cheesy romance one," Astarion purred, his pointer finger tracing the edges of your jaw.

You turned your head, planting a small kiss on his palm. "I'll be going soon, just want to finish something first. You can read without me, I don't mind."

But how could he ever tell you, that the words looked blurry and tangled without you by his side?

Longer than an hour had gone by when you finally decided to come to his tent. The night was mostly quiet, eery, with only the sounds of crickets, frogs, and the crackling of the dying fire. Astarion lay on his side, back turned towards the tent's opening. He didn't need sleep, not really, some meditation here and there would usually be enough to keep his energy up. But it was a habit he'd picked up when you started sleeping together through the night.

He wasn't asleep tonight, however. He heard your footsteps approaching him, quiet and cautious so as to not disturb him. He felt you lying down beside him, ever so slowly.

Astarion closed his eyes tightly, trying to hold himself back and failing miserably. One taste of your affection had been enough to get him hopelessly addicted.

He turned, shuffling closer and curling his body around you. His arm went over your stomach and tugged lightly, like a kitten asking for attention. You didn't say anything as you closed your arms around him, your lips finding the bridge of his nose and then his forehead. Words were futile when actions spoke the loudest.

Your gentle touches, the way you hold him without malice, he could hardly get enough of it. Your arms wrapped around him and your lips grazed his skin with lingering kisses, and it didn't hurt, it didn't burn or make him feel sick. You were the first one to ever do it, to hold him without hurting him.

Astarion nuzzled your neck, burying himself in the feeling, gladly drowning in it as he drank every last drop. Tears prickled his eyes, they usually did on nights like these and he's never quite sure why. Maybe it's because of the way your fingers gently tangled in his hair yet didn't tug or scrape; maybe it's the way you tighten your hold on him as if trying to mend his fragile heart; maybe it's because of how much he longed for someone like you to come and save him, on nights where all he knew were pain and unwelcomed caresses that scarred his skin more than any blade ever could.

And now, he wanted to lose himself in the comfort he found, that you so generously provided. His fingers closed forcefully on the fabric of your shirt, nearly ripping it, afraid you'd leave if he held you any looser. The fear of waking up alone and finding out that he'd lost you was all too consuming, tugging at his heartstrings.

He closed his eyes and rogue tears dampened the collar of your shirt. It was okay, it would be dry come morning, you wouldn't know. You were warm, you chased away everything that haunted him.

⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆

You stared at it intently. You have been staring at it for a while now, teeth chewing at the inside of your cheek in nervousness and anticipation. You checked it once, twice, turning the pages with careful fingers. The sketchbook wasn't filled, it would take too long to do so, but at least half of the pages inside it held some kind of scribble. Art pieces of various styles and levels of progression, some much more detailed than others, some mere hasty lines put together to paint a dear image you wanted to keep for a while longer. All of them of him. A book filled with the pointy ears and pale hair you adored so much.

You could only hope he would adore it just as much.

It was early in the morning and the day had yet to properly start. Most of your companions were still tucked away in their tents, some huddled around the burned logs of the fire from last night, coffee mugs in their hands and a sleepy look on their faces. You were never much of an early bird yourself, but today you made a point of rising before Astarion—you were lucky he'd picked back up the habit of sleeping and wasn't much of an early bird himself.

Hugging the sketchbook to your chest, you padded back to the warmth of his tent. As you opened the flaps, you were greeted with the sight of soft slivers of sunlight coming through the thinner part of the tent's fabric, they glimmered over Astarion's laying form, kissing his pale skin and making it shine.

You could easily get used to it; waking up to him, watching as the early morning rays painted his features golden, small wisps of dust flying in the air only giving him that bit more magical touch.

Astarion had his back to you, so you quietly kneeled beside him, extending a hand to run through his mess of curls; oh how soft they were, molding in between your fingers like seafoam on the shore. You counted yourself remarkably privileged.

You placed the sketchbook behind you so you could lie down, only keeping yourself up on one elbow. Your lips found his temple and the elf lightly stirred in his sleep. You kissed the tip of his ear next, waking him up gently. Always gently. He deserves gentleness.

With a hoarse groan, Astarion turned around to face you. He blinked several times as his ruby eyes adjusted to the soft sunlight, his face adorably scrunched from sleep. An easy, small smile appeared on his lips as soon as his gaze landed on you.

You weren't an early bird, yet you came to love the mornings, if only for this sight alone.

"Good morning, my star," you said quietly so as to not disturb the peace of the moment, still twirling a strand of his hair between your fingers.

He chuckled, "Good morning, beautiful." His voice all husky and deep, one hand finding your waist and trailing all the way up to your neck to pull you closer.

You kissed the corner of his lips and then the apple of his cheek, and Astarion's hold on you only grew tighter, pulling you on top of him. A welp escaped you as you laughed, nuzzling his neck before baring your teeth and giving him a playful nibble.

"Ow, you menace!" The vampire gasped halfheartedly, holding back a grin.

You pulled back from him with the ghost of a smile, bracing yourself on his chest. "I've got something to tell you."

His expression shifted to something you couldn't quite decipher, but he quickly masked it with a teasing tilt of his brows; "Oh? Are you gonna confess your undying love for me?" Both his hands brushed along the sides of your waist, gingerly raising your shirt as his pinkie grazed your skin.

"I thought we'd gone over that part already?" You teased back with a glint in your eyes, pushing yourself back up to sit beside him.

A whimper of complaint escaped Astarion when you separated, but he sat up with you anyway; his hair askew and all over the place, cheeks with the faintest flush to them, eyes just a little droopy, and… a strange stiffness to his shoulders. "What is it, my love?" He wondered, scrunching his nose endearingly when a piece of lint grazed it.

You squirmed in your seat; heart burning hotter than Karlach's in your chest, valves working overtime as the connection you shared enveloped you whole. You haven't actually told him how much you loved him, the four-lettered word hadn't been brought up yet, mostly for fear of the weight it held. But you wanted to, you've been feeling it for a while now.

"Well? Don't leave me in suspense," Astarion chuckled, but the sound didn't feel quite right to your ears, his smile wasn't reaching his eyes. And as you looked at him—one of his hands gripping tightly onto the fabric of his bedroll while the other tapped his knee incessantly; the ruby of his eyes almost nonexistent, covered by shiny black pupils as he looked intently at you, gaze filled with sentiment and vulnerability—you could notice it there now, that lingering fear of solitude gripping at his chest.

For a moment, you berated yourself, for you knew you'd spent quite some time on your little project, and maybe it had affected your routine more than you cared to admit. You felt a nagging guilt and sorrow for making Astarion even consider the possibility of loneliness again.

You tried shrugging it off. It would be worth it—and you'd be showering him with love and affection in just a moment anyway.

"I made something for you." The words rolled off your tongue more easily than you thought they would. You reached behind you with unsteady hands, heart in your mouth as you held onto your breath.

Astarion stared intently at the black sketchbook that was now clasped between your hands. He looked up at you, and back down, lips pursed in confusion.

"Ever since you told me… you haven't seen yourself in so long," you started, voice gentle as your thumbs traced the leather cover of the book. "And asked me how I saw you. I- I kept thinking about it and… when I found this," you wiggled the sketchbook in the air, "I guess I found a way of showing you…"

You extended the book for him to take, lowering your voice to a near whisper; "how I see you."

A short, trembled gush of air went past Astarion's lips. It was a difficult task to get him speechless, yet you had done it. He said nothing as he ever so carefully took the book from your hands, holding it as if the smallest wrong move could break it.

You watched as his throat worked through a heavy gulp, his eyes shining bright under the faint sunlight, swimming in a pool of sentiment and he hadn't even opened the book yet. Or properly looked at it, for that matter; his eyes still trailed on your face, as if waiting for confirmation that you meant it. Only when you gave him a tiny nod, did he finally look down. It hit you hard that this was probably the first gesture of this kind that he had received in his long life.

Shaky, pale hands reached to turn the first page. He hesitated for only a moment, almost looking afraid. About to see himself after 200 years of living as a ghost.

The first drawing you had made in the book wasn't your best, now that you looked down at it again; a simple portrait of Astarion looking down at a book in his hands, a little rough around the edges, hardly detailed. It had been your first try after not drawing for quite some time.

A beat passed, and a drop of water landed on the bottom corner of the page. You whipped your head up, only to see rogue tears steadily dripping down Astarion's cheeks until they reached his chin and fell on his lap. He cried silently, barely moving; the only signs being the obvious tears and the quivering of his lower lip.

He turned each page as if they were made from the purest gold. Stopping at every single drawing of him, to take it all in. He traced his fingertips over the lines that formed the curves of his curls, the tips of his ears, and the slope of his nose and lips.

People had referred to him as many things already; sexy, alluring, charming, attractive. Never had any of them referred to him as something… precious, delicate, bewitching, more than just a pretty face. Yet that's exactly how he saw himself now, through your eyes.

Astarion took his time, never speaking once. You let him, making yourself comfortable beside him and laying your head on his shoulder, simply existing in each other's presence.

Several minutes had gone by when the elf finally spoke up again. He was finally on the last used page of the book, and when the next appeared in white he slowly closed the book, still grasping onto it reverently. "For a moment I- I thought you'd grown tired of me already," it was the first thing he told you, and he refused to meet your eyes. A humorless chuckle fell past his lips, trying to laugh off his feelings.

You raised your head from his shoulder, lifting a hand to tenderly brush long strands of silver hair behind his ear; as you did so, you allowed your fingers to travel further, burying in the mop of hair behind his head. "Never. Never in a million years," you whispered.

Astarion met your gaze at last, ruby eyes glimmering with unshed tears while dried tracks of the ones before still lingered on his cheeks. This was the real Astarion; fragile, vulnerable, pleading for a gentle love, yet so beautifully strong.

"I'm sorry, my star. For allowing that thought to plague you. I just wanted this to be a surprise." You leaned forward and touched your forehead with his for a brief moment, hoping to bend the rules and physically give him your love.

"You made this," Astarion's voice broke in the middle, yet his smile was the most sincere you'd ever witnessed, "For me."

Catching a single tear that rolled down his cheek, you nodded, with a smile of your own.

There was a beat, a moment of silence where you simply looked at each other, wondering if the other felt just as much. And you didn't need a tadpole connection to confirm it.

Astarion set the sketchbook aside before all but throwing himself at you. Both his arms encircled your waist with desperation as he buried his head in your neck. His lips drew sloppy patterns and raised goosebumps in your skin as he kissed you relentlessly, from shoulder, to neck, to jaw; until he finally reached your own lips.

You brought your arms around him, pulling him in until your very souls were intertwined. Giggles escaped your lips as he kissed you, the shape of both your smiles making it difficult and all the more delightful.

When you parted, Astarion had you pinned down on his bedroll, with him resting snuggly on top of you. He refused to let go, clingy as he'd never dreamt he'd be. Your hand buried in his hair, his nose brushed the skin of your collar bone. "I had asked the gods for salvation, for any kind of blessing, countless times before. I could never guess it would come in the shape of you." He breathed in. He didn't hesitate. "Thank you. I love you."

You felt his smile. Felt the shape of his words on your skin, your soul. You kissed his hairline. "And I love you."

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

You do not have permission to repost, copy, or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.

Astarion’s taglist: @milkiane @v1ci0us

[fangswbenefits]

Tracking

𓂅 𓄹 Summary: You find out Miguel has been tracking something that concerns you… and him.

𓂅 𓄹 Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

18+. Breeding kink. Period talk. Miguel going all scientific and keeping track of fertility windows for maximum efficacy. Dry humping. Inspired by this ask.

Miguel was in a bad mood that afternoon. You could see it coming a mile off, because having spent that much time around him over the past years had revealed many warning signs.

The circular platform was lowered all the way down to the floor by the time you walked past the door.

Miguel not turning to acknowledge your presence was warning sign number one.

You strode up to it warily, as if expecting him to explode at any given moment. Trying to lighten the mood, you tip toed to place a sweet kiss to his cheek.

He grumbled in response.

Warning sign number two.

His eyes were fixed on the multiple of screen sprawled in a half-moon in front of him, occasionally tapping and moving them around when needed.

“Someone’s in a good mood,” you teased.

“I’m nearly done here.”

“Hello to you, too, grumpy,” you nudged his arm with a smile.

Miguel merely nodded.

Warning sign number three.

At this point, you figured something was definitely going on.

“What’s up?”

“Hmm?”

You sighed. “You look and sound off.”

He tapped on a screen to his left. “You’re on your period.”

“What?”

Usually, that sort of remark would earn any man a slap at worst or a ‘fuck you’ at best. There was no shortage of men who would use women’s hormones as an easy way to deflect their feelings.

But there was something in Miguel’s tone that resembled… disappointment?

He scowled deeply, turning to face you. “You’re not pregnant.”

You stared at him for a long time, before bursting into laughter. “Is that why you’re all grumpy?”

“Oh, you think this is funny?” Miguel’s eyes narrowed, his scowl deepening.

You stopped at once. “Wait… how would you know that?”

He returned his attention to the hovering screens in front of him. “Know what?”

“That I’m on my period?” you asked, suspicion rising inside you. “And I still haven’t gotten it, by the way.”

And just like that, Miguel’s crimson eyes were on you expectantly. “Why didn’t you tell me right away?”

You folded your arms while tapping your foot lightly. “No. You answer me first.”

Miguel knew better than to antagonise you, especially now that you had information that interested him.

Dragging his index finger across the panel, you saw a file pop up with your name. That didn’t seem odd at all. Every spider in Nueva York was required to have one that displayed several strategic details as well as bio data that was fed by the dimensional travel watch. Your heart rate was at a steady 67 beats per minute.

“What about it?”

He tapped on a second tab that read ‘Fertility’.

Nothing could have prepared you for the influx of information you were about to be bombarded with.

And what it concerned.

July 4th

Cycle day 1 - low chance of pregnancy

Fertility window - 12 to 18

Ovulation day - 17 (high chances of pregnancy)

“You’re tracking my period?!” you snapped in utter disbelief.

“I’m tracking your fertility window.”

You glared at him. “How is that any different?”

“It’s not. Just nomenclature,” he shrugged casually as if talking about the change of weather outside.

You shot Miguel a death glare, before shoving him to the side, gaining full access to the flickering orange screen. The data collected went back as far as three months ago.

Miguel had been tracking your fertility window for months now.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

He shifted to stand behind you, easily towering with his impressive height. “It’s my responsibility to get you pregnant.”

Your eyes widened partially in disbelief, but mostly at the realisation that this shouldn’t be a shocking revelation.

Miguel had to be in control at all times. It was embedded in his genetic code. A few months ago you had casually joked that you wouldn’t mind having a child soon.

It seemed that it was all the motivation he needed to begin his quest.

Now it made perfect sense why he had been so insistent on always cumming inside you. You just didn’t think he would be this dedicated.

Joke’s on you.

“But it seems the data is wrong,” he said lowly, arms circling around you to have his hands atop yours on the keyboard. “You can edit it,” he whispered, pressing himself fully against you.

The added pressure pushed your lower half gently against the control table, his thumb caressing the back of your hand.

“Are you trying to seduce me, so I ignore all of this?” you whispered, enjoying how the proximity was having a noticeable effect on his cock.

He rolled against you slowly. “Me? Of course not.”

His fingers intertwined with yours, and you watched your heart rate on the screen soar to 78 beats per minutes.

You fought back a whimper, as he was nipping at your neck, fangs lightly poking at sensitive skin. You could feel the hard print of his cock pressed against the curve of your ass, and as you bucked your hips instinctively, you felt his own meet you halfway, setting a slow rhythm.

90 beats per minute.

“Let me get a blood sample so I can test out,” he said, his erection pressed against your ass.

“Someone really wants to be a dad,” you said with a teasing smile.

99 beats per minute.

His other hand came to grip your jaw, tilting your head until you met his eyes. “I need you to get pregnant.”

Your breath was coming out in shallow pants as he kept humping you at a steady and torturous pace.

“You mean… you need to breed me, right?”

109 beats per minute.

His eyeds widened lightly and he thrusted harshly into you, causing a jolt of pleasure to travel all the way down to your clit. “That’s the same thing, cariño.”

You gave him a knowing smile. “Nomenclature and all that.”

Masterlist

[spif-lol]

People can hate on Chibnall's era all they want and while it's not without it's problems I will always defend it if ONLY for it's interpretation of gender in the change from 12 to 13.

I remember being so excited for Jodie, but also so scared as to how they were going to handle her characterization as the Doctor. While Moffat did okay with Missy in the end, her original introduction was dripping with stereotypes and changes in personality which in universe boiled down to she's a girl now lol. Because of this I feared the introduction of a hyperfeminine Doctor, reinforcing sexist stereotypes that men and women are fundamentally different in some ineffable way. I feared jokes about boobs and hair, I feared a weak Doctor who had to be saved by male companions, I worried there would be a lack of personality entirely, with Chibnall trying to play it safe and make her just a blank slate. Or that she would be a rehash of an old Doctor but GIRLY with nothing really distinct to her personality beyond that.

I did not at all expect what we got. Even if the writing is in general lower standards than us fans had come to expect, Chibnall's handling of the Doctor's sudden gender change is phenomenal and I will explain why.

Top 13th Doctor gender moments:

It is so obvious that from the Doctor's point of view, she hasn't really changed. She still perceives herself the same way and finds it hard to adjust to a view of herself as a woman and often uses masculine words to describe herself out of habit. She doesn't dislike being a woman! She's just forgetful! Her regeneration is not special because of the gender change, that's just a quirk alongside the other changes every Doctor goes through when they regenerate

The way she still dresses in a distinctly Doctorish way, and leans towards flamboyant but practical masculine outfits like her suit in Spyfall in contrast to Yaz's more feminine presentation in the same situations. (Yaz isn't even that feminine either. But her dresses and blouses compared to the Doctor really stand out.)

I love how the Doctor's gender doesn't change anything about her, only how other's view her. And mostly people still treat her with respect and as an authority figure. I feel like chibnall struck a good balance between not acknowledging the gender change at all vs hitting us over the head with it. There are episodes where her being a woman is detrimental and she expresses annoyance, there are others where it causes confusion, and there's some where it opens her up to new experiences like the wedding party with Yaz's nan! But ultimately it doesn't make a difference in the Doctor's day to day

The introduction of the Fugitive Doctor as a previous regeneration but also as a female doctor with a distinct personality from thirteen! We got a multi doctor story with two badass female doctors years before it should have been possible! I hate the timeless child thing but the fugitive doctor is my beloved. Props to Chibnall for seeing the hate and people going oooh but the doctor has always been a man and responding by going nope she's been a woman before and a black woman too fuck you. actually iconic. #Season6B btw. if you even care

Idk i just think Jodie really captured the Doctor really well, while still having a unique twist on it and her portrayal really reads as a genderfluid alien in a feminine body. Like oh cool this is new but ultimately it dont matter she still the doctor

[slytherinshua]

YOUR WOUNDS WRAPPED WITH MY LOVE

genre. fluff. tiny bit of angst. mafia au. warnings. descriptions of a stab wound. blood. knives and guns. some profanity. kissing. they kinda argue but very mildly. i researched a little on how to treat wounds but pls don't expect it to be too accurate 😭. pairing. fiancé!jeno x reader. wc. 1.5k. request. no. a/n. so ever since the concept trailers this jeno has been the only thing on my mind I swear 😔 and nursing trope is one of my fav tropes ever so I joined the two together and was very delulu 👍

“Again?” You asked, less than happy at the sight of the tall man who stood against the doorframe, one hand clutching his side painfully. Lee Jeno always disappeared without warning on another mission only to return, usually injured, for you to patch him up. You had urged him to hire an actual medic for the job, but he refused, saying he didn’t trust anyone but you to get that close to him. That was a few years back when the occasions for it were still rare. You were alarmed at how often he seemed to be going out, and returning with increasingly worse injuries.

Your knowledge and skill with patching up wounds— dagger wounds, bruises and scrapes from physical altercations, hell, even gunshot wounds— was a lot better than years ago. You were confident in your ability to get your fiancé back to health, but you weren’t pleased with how often you had to. No matter how much you pleaded with him to let his body rest, he would more often than not, be out again just hours after you had tended to his bleeding body.

“I’m sorry.” He grumbled out. You would have been shocked by how hoarse his voice had become if this was the first time, but you were all too used to it. Your heart still clenched painfully seeing him in that state.

He could barely walk, blood dripping a little from where his hand pressed tightly to his left side, his face scrunched in pain as laboured irregular breaths left his mouth. 

“Come here. Sit down. Tell me what happened.” You said quietly, already having gotten out the box of medical supplies. You were ready with the bottle of saline already, but it wasn’t anywhere near the top of Jeno’s worries. From the tone of your voice, he could tell you were mad at him. Or maybe it was mostly disappointment? A touch of worry, perhaps.

He made his way towards you, carefully limping towards the bed until he could gently lower himself onto it with his weight supported by the bedframe. He sat still as you gently took off his shirt, eyes assessing the dark red spot that stained the side of his stomach and up his ribcage. You glanced up to his face, and he met your eyes for half a second with a slow breath out.

“Knife. It’s not that deep, I stopped their hand before they could push it in very far.” He whispered, and then shut his eyes tightly when you dabbed a little at the wound with a soft wet cloth soaked in saline.

“Are you staying for long?” You asked, guarding your heart for what his answer would be. You loved Jeno— you loved him more than anything, and you tried to be as selfless as you could regarding him and his job. You never put up a fuss about having to patch him up, and you only ever gently tried to persuade him to be more careful. But it was hard, really hard. You couldn’t help but be hopeful that he might be able to stay for a bit longer with you. You hated how you only seemed to be seeing him to treat his wounds for the past month.

But it only reminded you of how he was by far the most selfless person you knew. 

Countless threats had always been looking for Jeno’s weakness. And you happened to be the most vital one. You were unspeakably precious to him, and unfortunately, his rivals knew that. Of course, he did everything he could to protect you. You trusted him with your life. There was no one else who you would ever trust as much as him. And he had never lost your trust. You had never even had a scratch delivered to you. But the tradeoff of the protection that Jeno made sure you had was his own life being put at risk almost every day.

Every cut, stab, or bruise that littered his fair skin were marks of how determined he was to keep you safe. The least you could do was treat his body in return with your gentle hands, wiping away the blood, wrapping the wounds carefully, and stitching them up when needed.

Jeno answered your question with only a silent nod yes. Although relief filled your body that he wouldn’t be out again immediately, you still focused on the more important task at hand. You could enjoy his company once he wasn’t bleeding.

“Are they still after you?” You rummaged around in the box for the antibiotic ointment, dabbing a bit on your finger before leaning closer to apply it. “This’ll sting.” You muttered as a warning before dabbing the wound as carefully as you could. Jeno tensed up, his fingers bunching up the sheet of the bed as he did his best to stay still.

“Talk to me. It’ll help distract you.” You told him, pausing your application of the antibiotics to rest a hand on his shoulder, providing a small bit of comfort.

“They’re… They’re after you, not me. You know that.” He whispered out as you continued to treat the wound. “They can’t take me by themselves— they’d be fucking stupid to try. I made sure that they won’t bother us for at least a month. I’ll have to talk to Renjun and Donghyuck about our next course of action.” You hummed in understanding, grabbing the roll of gauze next. 

“You need to rest your body, Jeno.” You said quietly. You could tell he was about to protest, so you interrupted quickly, “Doctor’s orders. Don’t pull anymore dumb shit.”

“It’s not dumb shit. It’s to protect you.” He argued back, clenching his jaw.

You sighed, starting to wrap the white cloth around his waist, “I know. But you said yourself that you have a month. At least for a week of that month, you need to rest and recover.” 

Your fiancé seemed unsettled at the thought of a whole week of rest; a week of letting his guard down. It was almost unheard of for him. He knew from experience that as soon as he let himself relax, something unexpected would happen. But maybe you were right. Maybe a week of rest is what he needed.

You secured the wrap tightly, and mumbled out how you were all done. Jeno just stared at you while you cleaned up, soaking up the face he hadn’t gotten a chance to study for the past month. He felt incredibly guilty for how often he had been gone, and even more so for how often he had let you see him like this. He knew you hated it, but you never complained. He didn’t deserve you.

“I love you.” He spoke suddenly, interrupting the cold silence of the room. You shut the metal drawer slowly, back still turned to him as you let a small smile grow on your face. You hadn’t heard those words from him in a while. You turned back to sit down next to him again, your eyes staring into his.

“Won’t you say it back?” He whispered, reaching for your hand; your left hand, the one that adorned that diamond ring he had given you months prior. You let him pull you closer as his right hand enclosed over your left. His fingers felt a bit rough, but they were warm and comfortable. With his left hand on the back of your neck, he gently guided you forward until his lips closed over yours.

You could just barely taste the metallicness of blood from the slight cut to his bottom lip. But you didn’t focus on it, too absorbed in the gentleness of his kiss and how perfectly his lips felt against yours even after years had passed. He pulled away, resting his forehead against yours, his eyes still closed as he caught his breath. 

You pecked his lips again, “I love you too. Always.”

He visibly relaxed at your words and dropped his head to your shoulder. You sighed, threading your fingers through the hair at the bottom of his neck, holding him closely. He shuddered quietly, and you frowned.

“Cold?” Your hand ran up and down his back slowly, feeling goosebumps rise from the chill. You traced one of the many scars that marked him, stopping at the dip of his scapula and muscle. You reached behind your back, feeling around along the mattress for a blanket. You caught hold of it and gently draped it around Jeno. 

You smiled fondly at the way he nestled his head a little closer to the crook of your neck. From his breath, you figured he was already almost asleep. You didn’t want to disturb his sleep, but you knew the position would quickly get uncomfortable, so you shifted his head down to your chest and laid back until you hit the mattress. He didn’t protest at all, but shifted into a comfortable spot in his half-asleep state. With his head on your chest, his arm around your waist, and his legs tangled with yours, you found the new position to be much more promising for getting good sleep.

You pressed a kiss to his forehead and made sure the blanket covered his body before you closed your eyes as well.

↳ nct dream taglist: @kangtaehyunzzz,, @eternalgyu,,

[breadbrobin]

So i saw of a guy getting lipstick kisses on him and im just obssessed with it. I want it with Luke but maybe we could have Luke put our lipstick on to mark us with kisses? Thanks for the lovely Luke fics ;3

revenge is best served red

luke castellan x reader — percy jackson and the olympians

[fem!reader, from any cabin]

summary: little pranks are a great way to keep a relationship fun, and if they involve lipstick? well, neither of you are going to complain too much.

warnings: kissing, reader wears makeup (lipstick mostly stated), slightly suggestive content

word count: 786

(hiiii!! i love this request it’s so cute! thank you for the awesome request, i hope you like it!)

——————————————

one thing new campers often noticed about luke castellan were the lipstick stains on his collar and skin and the silver bracelet on his wrist, both a perfect match to your lips and your own wrist. he wore both with pride, always one to wear his heart on his sleeve and, well, your lipstick on his shirts.

you’d never tried to hide your relationship. how could you, after all, when luke stumbled out from behind your cabin with lipstick marks all over his face and you followed him not long later, makeup smudged and hair messy? that was a pretty good giveaway that you were together.

luke had always liked revenge. good, cold, sweet revenge. but you had never been a target. nope. never.

until he drew a heart with an ‘L’ in it on your cheek while you slept one night, and you went around camp as usual for three hours before you realised it was there. then all bets were off.

you wore your brightest, boldest lip looks, pressing kisses to his cheeks, to his hands to the corner of his mouth. he wore them with pride.

“you’re never embarrassed,” you’d whined to him one day.

he’d wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closer, smiling. “i’d never be embarrassed by you. how could i be?”

that had been enough for you to shut him up with more deep red kisses for a while.

revenge came to you one day though. cold and sweet.

you went simple. and cold. definitely cold.

a bucket of ice was tipped over luke just before he was set to start training, courtesy of you, of course. what you hadn’t expected, was getting chased by a soaked, cold, luke, and hugged tightly as the ice permeated through your clothes too. regardless, he admitted that you’d got him, and finally, you could relax. pranks had never been your strong suit anyway.

as time went on, all of that took a backseat. more than anything else, you were just… happy.

luke was, first and foremost, a picture perfect boyfriend. always opening doors for you, pressing kisses to your cheeks and lips, carrying your bags and always respecting you. but he was so annoying sometimes.

like now, as he sat on your with your makeup bag in front of him, tipped out onto your sheets.

you were sitting on the floor with a colouring book as he sorted through your products, studying some of them and swatching them on his hand and wrist. you weren’t quite sure was he was doing—you had your back to him—but whatever it was was making you slightly nervous. he hummed every now and then, either in confusion or satisfaction, you weren’t quite sure. that was the only thing that broke up the silence in the otherwise empty cabin.

“hey, babe,” he said suddenly.

“yeah?” you didn’t look back at him.

“what colour lipstick do you think would suit me best?”

you frowned and turned around, then covered your mouth with a giggle. “oh my gods.”

luke’s lips were painted in a deep red, messy and over-lined more than kylie jenner. he was smiling goofily. “what?”

“you look like the joker. and not the cool one.” you giggled, hand still over your mouth.

“so not this colour?” he grinned.

you shook your head, lowering your hand with a laugh. “no, not that colour.”

“hm…” he looked in a handheld mirror and pouted dramatically. “guess i’ve got to take this off then.”

you were about to reach for your makeup wipes when his lips landed on yours. you were confused for a moment, before you couldn’t help but laugh into the kiss as the lipstick rubbed off onto your lips and face.

he pulled away and smiled. “i see why you like doing that.”

“like doing what?” you asked breathlessly.

his thumb smeared the lipstick just below your lips slowly. “making such a mess.”

he kissed you again, slowly guiding you up and pushing your makeup aside so you were on your bed with him, then pushing you down gently so you were lying below him.

he peppered lipsticked kisses all over your face, eliciting giggles from you, and, when he finally pulled back, your face was more red and pink than anything else. he smiled down at you, his hand resting on your waist as he shifted his weight to the side. “yeah. i get it now.”

“i hate you.” you teased.

“yeah, i hate you too. but revenge is sweet. at least i’m not freezing you right now.” he grinned, his lips meeting yours again as you both laughed. you didn’t even mind that he was wasting your lipstick. with luke, nothing was a waste.

[evilkennedy]

you're as beautiful as the day i lost you

leon kennedy x reader

warnings: none! this is a lot shorter than I would've liked it to be but I hope y'all enjoy anyway

word count: 1k

summary: you died in raccoon city, or at least that is what leon thought. re4 leon. gender neutral reader, mostly in leon's pov, childhood best friends

Leon felt like he was seeing a ghost, he’d stopped everything he’d been doing, which was certainly a risk in this village but he couldn’t bring himself to care– Not when you were standing in front of him, flashbacks of that night in Raccoon City attacked his senses, the smell of blood permeated his nose, flashes of light and fire overwhelmed his vision, the sight of your eyes being the only thing that was enough to soothe him; the same eyes that visited him both during his nightmares and his dreams. His eyebrows were furrowed in confusion and it appeared that you were just as stunned as he was, not expecting to see him after six years… Six years that you’d been presumed dead by him. His blue eyes never leave your face, swimming with an unreadable emotion as he collected himself, you must have been doing the same as you lowered your gun before holstering it and taking a few tentative steps toward him.

He couldn’t bring himself to move yet, only mirroring you as he lowered his gun, holstering it as well. The two of you had taken out the Ganados together as though it had been muscle memory despite the years that passed, neither of you having the time to react to the other’s presence until now. You were the first to speak, he watched as you opened and closed your mouth a few times, trembling as you stepped closer once more, tears pooling in your beautiful eyes. He ached to pull you close, to wipe those tears away, but he stood, statuesque as he waited, your voice meeting his ears for the first time in way too long and suddenly he wondered if this was another dream or some cruel side effect of whatever was happening within his body at the moment, another vision or a mirage that tempted him into danger or into the sea like a siren would lure a sailor to their death. 

“It’s been so long, I– Leon, I’m so sorry.” Once he actually began to comprehend what you were saying, your words began spilling out, jumbling together as you stuttered over them in an attempt to explain yourself, Leon didn’t understand how you could be here, how you weren’t six feet under somewhere within the wreckage of what remained of Raccoon City but as his eyes watched your lips move and your chest rise and fall rapidly, he knew this couldn’t have been a dream.

“They– I had to stay dead, I would’ve come to find you, believe me, but they– they told me that you had to think I was dead or else they’d kill you and I couldn’t have that on my conscience. I tried these past six years to find a way to let you know, but they watched me, they didn’t care that we knew each other before or that you were the only person I had–” He was listening, clinging onto every word and he knew that you meant what you were telling him. He was angry, but he could never place that anger on you, not when you were standing here, looking so vulnerable as you poured your heart out to him, tears falling down your cheeks against your will.

He cut you off as he finally moved from the spot where he'd been standing frozen, closing the gap between the two of you easily as his eyes scanned your face, searching for any injuries. He noted the new scars and the way you’d aged slightly, but one thing he was sure of is that you were still you. The same you that used to call him “Lee” and came to his police academy graduation when his parents couldn’t, the same you that had always said it would be the two of you against the rest of the world, and especially the same you that he’d managed to fall in love with. He placed a shaking hand against your cheek and you gasped in response, closing your eyes against the touch. You’d expected him to be angry, not that it had been your choice to leave him in the first place, but you thought it would be easier to deal with than sadness or disappointment, whatever this was, it was much better. Still, you felt as though you didn’t deserve his gentle touch as he wiped a few of your tears away, looking at you for a moment in an attempt to collect his thoughts before speaking.

“You’re as beautiful as the day I lost you.” Leon wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting to come out of his mouth, but as you relaxed into his palm, eyebrows furrowing as you kept your eyes closed, lip quivering as a few more tears fell from your lashes, he knew that it was exactly what he needed to say. 

After another moment of hesitation, scared of everything that had been left unsaid, Leon pulled you into an embrace, needing to feel you breathing against him. He rested his nose at the crown of your head, breathing in a scent that he’d previously forgotten, overwhelmed with the need to cry himself now. He refused to do so, instead only pulling you tighter to himself as he whispered your name over and over like a mantra– a prayer. He wasn’t a religious man by any means but he thanked whatever might have been out there that brought you back to him. He had every intention never to let you go again.

He swayed the two of you gently as he rested the back of his hand at the nape of your neck, grabbing at the hair that rested there, feeling grounded as his senses were overwhelmed by you completely. He knew that there was a long way to go, there was a mission to be completed and Ashley still needed to be brought home alive, but with you by his side, he knew that everything would be okay. And he’d do everything in his power to ensure it stayed that way.

a/n: hi!! i hope you enjoyed :) feel free to leave comments to let me know what you think and my requests are open for more leon x reader prompts <3

[gilmore-angel]

unexpected pleasures || A.T x fem!reader

summary ♱ reader has just wed the infamous aemond targaryen, and though she's nervous, she will soon discover there are many pleasurable things to come (tldr reader gets finger fucked good)

warnings/contains ♱ arranged marriage, awkwardness at first, smut obvi, sub!reader dom!aemond, fingering, praise kink!! use of good girl, pretty girl, wife. overall very fluffy!! soft!aemond<3. let me know if I should add anything else!!

authors note ♱ okok this is probably trash but I'm literally forcing myself to write rn<3 lol anyways this is also my first time actually writing for aemond which is crazy bc I've been obsessed with him since like early January💀. if you enjoy please reblog! likes are obviously appreciated but reblogs are the thing that actually help the writer<3 oh and lmk if you want a part two!!

navigation 𔓕 follow and turn on notifications for @baysfics to know when I post my writings

married life isn't so bad after all.

of course, you've only been married for about three hours now, but it's going better than expected, which at this point is all you can hope for.

your new husband, prince aemond, has been quite pleasant thus far. you have only had roughly six full conversations since you were betrothed two months ago, but based off of them he was very polite and well educated.

though you had dreaded the wedding day, everything had gone smoothly. the ceremony itself was a big event, full of lords and ladies you didn't even know the house of, all eager to get on the new princesses good side. and of course there was the kiss you shared with aemond, one that sent an unknown feeling through you, settling at your lower belly. and now, the grand feast to celebrate the union.

it had less people there, only family and the very important houses were allowed to attend. you sat at the table in the middle, sitting in the center along with your husband. on your other side sat your father, mother and siblings, the same went for aemond. your husband stayed mostly silent during the feast, only speaking when spoken to.

your belly slightly ached with nerves for what was coming next; the bedding. thankfully, the queen had insisted upon a private bedding, just as she did for her other children when they wed. the action soothed your nerves a bit, but they still clung to you.

you had been warned by your mother that the bedding was an uncomfortable and painful process for the woman. but she also informed you that it is something all woman must do to please their lord husband and produce heirs.

you felt your heart sink when the king stood up weakly to announce it was time for you and aemond to head to your chambers. you both stood up and gave your goodbyes, your mother giving you a reassuring smile before you left.

there was an awkward silence as you walked with your husband to your chambers, escorted by guards. you glanced at him, only to see him looking straight ahead, blank expression on his handsome face.

once you arrived the guards pushed open the heavy wooden doors. you gave them a small smile in thanks before aemond dismissed them. as the doors closed aemond let out a small shaky sigh, you couldn't tell if it was out of nervousness or dread. you both stood awkwardly, unsure of where to begin. he spoke first, breaking the deafening silence.

"would you like help taking down your hair?" he blurted out. you nodded, giving him a awkward small smile.

"please," you moved past him to sit at the vanity. you began taking out the many odd placed pins and braids in your hair. aemond came up from behind you to start assisting in the process. the feeling of his long fingers in your hair made up for the times he would accidentally tugged too hard trying to take down the hairstyle. you both worked in silence, the only word spoken was his occasional 'sorry's when he would notice you wince.

now that your hair was down, the room was once again filled with an thick silence. eventually you stood up, turning to face him. you sucked in a breath, looking up at him nervously.

"should i..... should I remove my clothes, my prince?"

his eyes widened at the question, but he nodded, "yes, my lady... I can help."

he moved behind you, undoing the laces of the dress with shaky fingers. the gorgeous dress fell to the floor, pooling around your feet. you stepped out of the dress, leaving you in a silky shift and small clothes. you felt quite vulnerable as you begun taking your shift off, even more so once it was gone.

aemond let out a shaky breath at the sight of you in nothing but your small clothes. he looks up and down your body, desire filling his eye. he walks closer to you, looking deep into your eyes.

"may I kiss you, my lady?" he asked, his usual cold tone gone, now replaced with a soft, caring one. you nod, eyes wide.

aemond smiled softly before leaning down and kissing your soft lips. this kiss was unlike the other one you both had shared just hours before. this one was out of pure want, not obligation.

you gasp softly against his lips when he deepened the kiss, your hands flying up to his strong shoulders. his hands found home on your hips. he pulled away just enough to whisper against your lips, "is this okay?"

you nod, staring up at him with wide eyes. "yes, my prince, I just... I don't really know how to do this properly."

he smiles at you softly, moving one of his hands to caress your cheek gently.

"that's okay, just copy what I do, okay?"

he leans back in, kissing at a slow pace. his lips are soft and warm against your own. you feel something wet poking at your bottom lip and soon realize it's his tongue. you open your mouth slightly and gasp when he slides his tongue in, exploring where he can reach. the sensation causes a soft whimper to fall from your lips.

he begins pushing you backwards gently until the back of your knees hit the edge of the plush bed behind you, causing you to lay down on it. to your surprise, aemond gets on his knees before you and pulls you down so your legs hang off the bed. leaning up on your elbows you look down at him extremely confused. "my prince... what are you doing?"

he simply smiled and blushed, "let me know if you wish to stop, okay my lady?". his big calloused hands went up and down your thighs, pulling them apart. you laid back, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes. his hands eventually found their way to your small clothes.

"may I remove these, my lady?" one hand continued rubbing you thigh gently. you hum and nod. that wasn't good enough apparently and aemond lightly pinched your thigh. "words, wife. I need to hear some words out of those pretty lips."

you blushed deeply, taking a deep breath, "yes, please take them off."

he smiles, murmuring under his breath "good girl". you felt a tingle in your lower belly, growing each time he touched or talked to you.

he carefully slid your small clothes off, throwing them somewhere in the room. he sucked in a big breath at the sight of your bare cunt. you squirmed slightly, his gaze lighting you on fire almost.

"may I touch you, wife?" he spoke softly, a poorly hidden desire behind the words.

you nod but quickly remember what he told you. "yes, you may."

with one hand he softly rubbed your thigh, with the other he rubbed one finger up and down your lips, pushing past them and exploring the wet outside. your back slightly arched at the unknown but not unwelcomed feeling. he moved his finger higher until he found your clit. a high pitched whimper escaped your lips at his soft but achingly good touch.

he looked up at you with a sweet smile. "does that feel nice, wife?". his finger moved in gentle circles, pressing ever so slightly.

a few breathy whimpers and moans slipped out of your mouth. "yes," you breathed, "so so nice..."

he let out a hmm, continuing his movements. he moved his finger up and down, gathering your wetness and then spreading it around your sensitive clit. as he rubbed on your bundle of nerves, his other hand came up, softly pressing against your slit.

"this may feel strange, my lady, but I promise it'll feel so good soon, okay?" he pushed a long thick finger into your previously untouched hole, groaning at how tight you were. your back arched off the bed as a loud moan rang around the room. he slowly started moving it in and out, sending waves of pleasure through your body when he curled his finger upwards. your gummy walls tightened around him, almost as tight as he cock felt in his trousers.

he looked up to see your reaction, smiling when he saw your head thrown back in pleasure. soft whimpers left your mouth as his movements quickened.

"may I add a second finger, sweet girl?" something about the way he said the affectionate name sent chills down your spine as you slightly bucked against his hand.

"hmmph, yes, yes please husband." he smirked as he added a second finger. he pumped them in and out fast, his other hand still focused on your puffy clit.

suddenly a new feeling hit you. like some sort of knot in your belly, ready to explode any second. a panicked expression washed over you at the strange sensation.

"aemond, aemond! something is, fuck, happening!" you cried desperately, clenching the sheets beneath you hard.

"shh, it's okay, it'll feel so good. just let it happen sweet girl." it was too much and too little, it was overwhelming yet you needed more. it hurt but felt so so right.

before you could reply waves and waves of pleasure washed over you, drowning you in the feeling of him. your whole body shook, hips bucking wildly into his hand. creamy white cum drooled onto his fingers and hand. he groaned at the sight and fucked you through your peak.

he eventually slid his hand out and climbed up the bed, hovering over you. he brought his cum covered fingers to you mouth, "open," he commanded softly, sucking in a shaky breath when you wrapped you lips around them. he pulled them out, moving to caress your cheek, "such a good girl."

he began kissing your neck, trailing his hand back down to your thighs. you whimpered sweetly causing him to chuckle.

"oh, sweet wife, we are just getting started."

[non-stop-imagines]

Calm Down

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Black!Reader

Summary: Oscar has his own ways of calming his you down. (From this request 💖)

Word Count: ~1.5k words (I've been real lazy y'all so this is me eye balling it.)

Warning: Smut, p in v (unprotected, stay safe kids), fingering, teachnically thigh fucking, orgasm denial, Hard!Dom in a very Oscar way, mention of the FIA (we all need to be warned about that), some plot (enough for this to actually be a fic)

A/N: I'm still working my way through a few more pre-"closed request" fics, after this one I have 4 more. 🥳 I'm kinda glad I'm able to get this one out. It's to the lovely anon that requested it but also for another anon that would like more Oscar fics out there. I have my Oscar moments, and I guess you guys caught me in one. 🤭 Anyway, hope you all enjoy! Love you all!!💖💛💖💛

(P.S. Expect another headers update because these requests y'all have been sending in are😚🤌🏿)

Masterlist

_____________

"No further investigation." This was the umpteenth time those words have plummeted from your mouth, now in quiet disbelief while you paced around Oscar's driver room when before it was being repeated by you as you first attempted to march your way towards the stewards office, but when that was thwarted by members of the McLaren team who were used to your reaction towards botched penalty calls, you tried to make your way to the Ferrari garage to just "have a talk" with the Spanish driver who pushed your boyfriend off the track, but Oscar was able to find you and promptly divert you to his room. "How could they be so stupid?"

"It's the FIA, I think they share a singular brain cell among them, and that brain cell is on holiday most of the time." Oscar spoke calmly as he undid his neck strap of his race suit and began to unzip it to expose his black fireproofs.

"How are you so fucking calm right now!? Carlos forced you off the track causung you to damage your front wing in which having to replace it during your fucking pit stop no doubt costed you third place!" The braids in your ponytail thrashed around as you erratically expressed your disdain for the unjust treatment your boyfriend was given during the race, and Oscar watched, mostly in admiration, but also slight annoyance. This wasn't the first time he has had to calm you down from such frustration.

"Because, there's nothing else we can do except go into the next race. Yeah, it sucks, but it's done." He shrugs his race suit off his shoulders and lets it gather around his waist while you scroll through Instagram, seeing the incident over and over again. You were like a bull seeing red.

"Nah, like, I just want to go talk to Carlos. It's like he has some weird hit out on you cause this is not the first time he's done this and I'm fucking tired of it." You push off of the massage table and head towards the door of the driver's room, but your wrist gets captured as you walk by Oscar, who gently guides you back to him.

"Yn, you need to calm down." He pulls you to him and wraps an arm around your lower back, his other hand fixing the askew braids in your ponytail. He was still a little damp but you something in your brain allowed you not to care too much about the sensation because he always looked little sexy with the messy sweaty hair and rouged cheeks and nose. A little sweat was worth it

"And what if I don't?" You squint, your insubordinace unphasing to Oscar as he finishes fixing up your ponytail.

"You know what happens, baby." A sweet grin makes its way onto his face but the hand that was previously in your hair grips your face, forcing you to look at him. "I make you." He gives you a quick peck on your forcibly puckered lips and then flips you so you were bent over the massage table, ass exposed to him. "You wore a skirt. You wanted this to happen you horny little minx."

"You're the only 22 year old I know that would use the word minx." You antagonize as Oscar makes quick work of flipping your skirt up, removing your underwear and pushing his race suit down letting it rest at his ankles, leaving him standing behind you starting to push down his underwear. "Ooo, I've made him mad now."

"No, no. I'm just used to you mouthing off. Especially when you're really horny, so..." He leans over to look at your face, your head resting on your hands and turned to the side, then finishes pushing his underwear down, releasing his dick which he almost automatically rubs between your pussy lips. "You're already so fucking wet, all from being a brat."

"And you're already hard because you like when I'm a brat, sweetheart." You wiggle your ass and move your hips backward, making Oscars dick slip between your sticky thighs again.

"Still so fucking mouthy." He grasps your hips for a moment to stop your hips from moving, then moves his hand to your lower back while he brings his cock to your entrance, pressing in and bottoming out in one fell swoop, forcing a loud moan from your chest. "Where's all that talk now, sweetheart?" He bends forward so he's speaking into your ear, then retracts his hips and thrust forward again.

"Os, fuck..." You let out sobbing whines with each thrust of Oscars hips, reaching out so you could grip the other side of the massage table.

"All you had to do was calm down love. But we both know you wanted this, hmm. Wanted me to fuck you quiet." Your legs were already getting weak, so Oscar had to adjust his grip at your hips, wrapping his right arm around your waist, the angle perfect for getting your clit. He doesn't put to much pressure, just allows the sticky slickness of your arousal to make it easy for his fingers to glance over the bundle of nerves. Even the slight touch sends a jolt through your body, making you gasp. "Look at you being a good girl for me now. Nice and quiet so no one hears. Wouldn't want anyone to know that your little act out there was just so you could get fucked senseless." All you could muster up was a moan as Oscar sped up the pace of his hips, he could go for hours, but he knew he had to make it to media obligations or else his absence would be suspicious. Lucky for him, despite your weak knees, you started to meet his thrusts, trying to get yourself to that proverbial edge that you could just taste.

"Can I cum, please?" You reach back to the hand that kept grazing your clit, guiding it to rub circles on it, having to move his hand a bit to get the optimum amount of leg shaking sensation.

"Only if your promise to be my perfect little girl from now on." He pulled his dick out of you and thrusts between your legs, the sensation of it rubbing on your clit making you whimper and giving him the wonderful visual of your cunt contracting around nothing.

"I'll be a good girl, I promise!" You were back to wiggling your ass, nonverbally begging for him to go back to fucking you. He looks up to check the analog clock on the wall.

"Okay, I'm gonna give you exactly one minute, but I'm only gonna use my fingers." You have a short tantrum while Oscar steps out of his race suit and pulls his underwear, then runs his fingers through your folds stopping your stomping feet. "I could just not give you a chance, I do have places to be..." He doesn't move and continues to run his hand over your cunt, but you took his threat to heart.

"No! Nooo, please, Os. Help me cum, please." He love to see you beg for him, especially when 99.9% of the time you were boisterous and confident and didn't take anyone's shit, which he loved, but little moments like this when he was in charge was the cherry on top of the relationship between you two.

"That's my girl." He brought his right hand that running along your cunt, now soaked in your juices, to your entrance, his middle and ring finger teasing you before pressing in, filling the emptiness his dick left. His left hand snaked back around your front to rub your clit. He did keep an eye on the clock, as he thrusted his fingers in you and rub your clit exactly where you guided his hand earlier, the sound of your muffled moans filling the small room, now that your face was down on your hands. Your hips gyrated in the air as you chased pleasure from Oscar's skillful fingers. But it was getting dangerously close to that one minute mark, and you still haven't came, and Oscar was serious about that time restraint.

"Ten, nine, eight, seven..." He counted down, fingers moving at a slightly faster speed, trying to help you reach your climax by "zero". Zero came, but you didn't, and you were left on the edge as Oscar removed his fingers from you, sucking your slick from them, and finished getting dressed to head to the media pit, ignoring your cries from being denied a surprisingly intense orgasm. "Sorry, hun. I'll help you when we get back to the hotel, okay?" He helps you up from the massage bed, smoothing your skirt down for you, adjusting your shirt and fixing your ponytail again before finishing off with a kiss to your pouted lips.

"Fine." You watch him do final checks on his own appearance before leaving his room, suddenly realizing your lack of underwear when you watch him stuff your panties in his pocket, becoming hyper aware of the stickiness between your thighs and the coolness of the air on your pussy. "Hey, wait. I can't go commando in a skirt."

"Exactly. You wouldn't dare go and try to fight anyone from Ferrari wearing a skirt and no underwear." He tips your chin up slightly and presses another long kiss to your lips. "I'll be back. Be a good girl, just like you promised." He taps your nose with his index finger and then turns to leave the room.

"Fuck you, Piastri." You cross your arms and lean against the massage table, a grin sneaking into your scowl.

"You already did, sweetheart." He rushes out the door and shuts it quickly to avoid the water bottle you chuck at him, both of you giggling like school children.

[littlemissayu]

TWST Boys as ✨ PARENTS✨(Part 4)

ft: Diasomnia | pt.1 ; Heartsabyul & Savanaclaw | pt.2 ; Octavinelle & Scarabia | pt.3 Pomefiore & Ignihyde

TW: kids, pregnancy, reader is depicted as female, domestic, fluff

Malleus Draconia-

4-15 kids, this man lit up when you told him you were expecting. As King of Briar Valley, he gets an heir to the throne. As your husband he was thrilled that your family could grow. His kids are very chill, understanding; even as toddlers they rarely ever threw a tantrum , and when they simply calm down after 10 minutes. Very smart children as well have never had anything lower than 89%. Malleus teaches his kids there is work and there is play; there are times they have to treat him as Malleus Draconia, ruler of faes, and Sovereign of Briar Valley, but other times he just plain dad. He is an amazing dad, always supporting and making an effort with his kids. I think he mostly has boys.

Lilia Vanrouge-

The two of you have 3 children together(4 counting Silver). Your kids have the same lovable, playful, and intelligent charm to them like their father. They are very athletic and chaotic. You never forget the night you woke up to you 4 month hang on the ceiling above your sleeping figure; you never fail to let them forget it when they complain about you taking away their beauty sleep when you wake them up early for school.Lilia is ofc a great that , we see that, you see it, I see it, and most of all his kids see it. Your family never fails to put a smile on each other's face, no matter what happens. I think he'd have 2 girls and a boy. +Although Silver sleeps a lot he still the best big brother ever!!(their words!!)

Silver-

1 beautiful yet sleepy child. Never cried at night because their too busy sleeping. You finish feeding them? They're napping. They've been playing for 10 minutes? Needs a nap in between. It would've concerned you if it weren't for your husband. No matter how sleeping Silver is, he stays protective of your family, no one is putting a hand on to either of your hairs. If their's one thing he will never sleep through is your kids events, like plays, performances, speeches, graduation, etc. I highly believe he has a son.

Sebek Zigvolt-

5 loud children. Now you could be thinking that he's too busy guarding Malleus to have 5 whole living breathing miniature beings; BUT HEAR ME OUT! His thought process is that if he has more kids, he could train more people to being Malleus' devoted followers ^^. Now depending on who you are I'm going to assume your not gonna force your kids to serve Malleus ofc not!! But dw he does genuinely love his kids no matter what. Would he prefer that they served His regal, sophisticated, genius, master, king, prince, and lord Malleus; but he loves them the way they are!! HE IS AN A AGGRESSIVE SOCCER MOM/DAD AT HEART, you say his kid missed, no they didn't your delusional >:( Has shelfs of all their achievements and all really outstanding test grades go right on the fridge. 3 boys, 2 girls

A/N: Now Ik it took me forever to post this but I have been sick since Friday, so I didn't want to post while not fully myself. I feel better now, not completely back to my usual self but I can definitely post!!

Diasomnia Masterlist

TWST Masterlist

[garoujo]

YOU USE YOUR SAFE WORD — JUJUTSU KAISEN

feat : gojo satoru, geto suguru, fushiguro megumi, itadori yuuji + nanami kento

♱ warnings — f!reader, safe word usage, mostly just rough sex, aged!up characters, overstimulation, teasing, yuuji doesn’t hear you the first time :(

♱ note — fank yew 2 the nonnie who requested this . i hope u enjoy it >_< i done this 4 tokrev a while ago so excited for these !

・✶ ｡ﾟGOJO SATORU

gojo was all about your pleasure, but he always liked teasing you in the hopes that he would be able to draw it out — make you feel even better when he finally gives into you. he’d only put a safe word in place when he realised just how lost in you he gets, sometimes you have to pull him back.

“mmm, so pretty when you cry f’ me, sweet thing.” gojo drawls from where his figure is leaning over you, smooth tone accompanied with another slow rock of his hips — grazing his cock against the almost painfully swollen spot inside of you that he’s been teasing all night. he’s been denying you of your orgasms, just so he can hear the sweet little whispered begs that fall from your lips for him as tears gather around your lashes. but you want, need to cum — the coil in your stomach is wound so tight it almost hurts everytime you twitch around his cock, sobs catching in your throat as you pant out a mantra of please everytime you even get close. “n-need to cum—please.”

but gojo’s too lost in you, in the saccharine squeeze of your pussy along his cock and the way your fingers tremble when they grab at his skin — leaning over you until he’s kissing away the damp paths that your tears leave in your skin. “oh? i don’t think i want you to do that just yet, princess.” his words are accompanied by another sharp thrust and you almost scream when it feels like he reaches too deep, it hurts and the words are falling from your lips before you can even realise. “b-blue, satoru!”

it’s almost smooth the way gojo immediately pulls his cock out of you, pulling you into his arms before one of his large palms are resting against your cheek — rubbing soothingly along the damp skin as he hushes your sobs and trails his other hand along your skin in soft circles. “hey, hey.. look at me, angel. you okay? i’m here with you.” his voice is a low hum, a comforting sounds that makes you curl into him before his lips are resting against your temple, curling around the praise he buries into your skin as he holds you close — placing kisses between breathes until your sobs finally cease. “too much for my sweet girl? yeah? don’t worry, i’ve got you.”

・✶ ｡ﾟGETO SUGURU

geto always took your comfort and pleasure very seriously, which is why the safe word was in place anyway — you’d never had to use it, but he always liked it just incase. considering no matter how many hours he spent prepping you, his cock was still thick enough for you to feel every ridge when he stretched you.

you don’t know what had gotten into you today, you just didn’t feel comfortable — geto had spent his time prepping you for the stretch of his cock, sinking his fingers into your cunt while he bathed your clit in strong licks and it felt good, great. but when it came to actually taking him, it didn’t seem to be going as well as you’d expect — he was long and thick, and it felt like he stretched on forever when he was rolling his hips into yours. the burn hurt more than usual and you felt tense, even as he placed soothing kisses along your features.

“relax for me, pretty girl. eyes on me, alright?” geto hums as he looks at you, there’s a furrow to his brows and his lips are parted but despite the growing haze in his mind he was still observant. you’re almost gnawing on your lower lip with every twitch of his hips, feeling something sharp sit uncomfortably in your lower abdomen with the thick spread of him — but he looks so handsome, and you feel bad with how much time he’s taken to make you feel good. so you just try to grit your teeth and bare it, but after a too fast grind of his hips you feel your vision turn a little blurred. “r-red, sugu! it hurts, please.”

“shit.” geto is on you in an instant, his large body curling over yours as he holds himself above you — pulling you in for a hug that has you melting into his warmth almost instantly. “hey. look at me, sweetheart. ‘m sorry, you okay?” he asks softly when his gentle gaze meets yours — thumb swiping gently at the tears that you don’t even feel escape before he’s sending you a kindhearted smile, and rolling onto his back with you against his chest. “anything hurt? you need anything?” his hands are soothing as they squeeze affectionately at your hips, massaging at your skin until he feels the tension in your muscles melt away. “just this, sugu. can we stay like this?”

・✶ ｡ﾟFUSHIGURO MEGUMI

a lot of what megumi knew was what you had taught him, so you’d suggested having a safe word pretty early on so it gave you both room to experiment with stuff — to explore what you both liked while also being able to have limits with eachother, although sometimes he got a little carried away without realising.

megumi had been a little grumpy today, coming home to you with a furrow in his brows and a pout on his lips. but it had surprised you when he’d pulled you to kiss you breathless anyway, licking into your mouth with a heat that was almost misplaced with how gentle he normally was with you. but you’d noticed fairly quickly that he wasn’t himself when he hadn’t taken as much time to prep you as much as he normally did, his movements were sharper — a little clumsier as he fucked into you.

the furrow in his brows remained as he fucked into you, he was trying to forget about whatever had happened today it seemed — knowing that he always felt better being wrapped in you. but the way megumi’s sinking his cock into you isn’t precise, it’s like he’s chasing his own pleasure and he’s too dizzy to realise he’s mumbling under his breath. “so annoying. j-just take it.” you know he’s probably not meaning it about you, but when it’s accompanied by the almost dry burn of his cock rutting into you — you can’t help the way it gets to you. “‘gumi?” you try, words almost getting caught in your throat when he sends you a pointed, sharp look. “green.”

but megumi’s movements immediately still when the words leave your lips, eyes wide although the furrow in his brow remains — except it’s softer now, frowning more at himself than anything else when he notices the way you’re looking at him. “h-hey. shit—i’m sorry, are you.. are you okay?” he asks earnestly when he pulls away from you, kneeling between your thighs as he lets his fingers roam up your calf soothingly — a little scared incase you don’t want him close to you right now. “i’m okay, are you okay?” you reply, and you watch your boyfriend’s gaze avoid yours for a few moments before he’s hesitantly guiding you against his chest, bringing you close as he speaks into the crook of your neck. “y-yeah, shouldve spoke to you, sorry..”

・✶ ｡ﾟITADORI YUUJI

it was too easy for itadori to get lost in you, his stamina was unmatched and the way he fucked you was almost animalistic at the best of times, and as much as you loved it — you both decided you would have a safe word just to be cautious, knowing his strength and ability to cum multiple times might far exceed your own.

and today might be one of those days, you think as itadori fucks into you with a pace that feels like it knocks the air out of you. you don’t know how many times you’ve both cum already, pussy squelching with every wet connection of his hips into yours, and everytime his cock pushes deeper. you feel a mixture of your orgasm push out of you in response, reminding you of the overstimulation burning in your clit with how swollen and used it is, grinding against your boyfriends pelvis with how he’s digging into your pussy.

your fingers are curled into fists at itadori’s chest, pushing away slightly everytime he sinks into you while your face curls up uncomfortably — but his gaze is fucked out and blown, and he’s too lost in you to notice. “y-yuuji, slow down!” you gasp before the words are knocked out of you with another heavy thrust, your vision feels blurred and the sweet spots that he’s hammering the blunt head of his cock against feel achy. “f-feels so good, baby. gonna give you one..mmmm, one more. can do it for you, make you feel so good.” he’s babbling, nuzzling into the crook of your neck so deep he barely hears the way “pink.” falls from your lips the first time, until you’re choking on a sob and accompanying it with a harsh shove into him. “pink, yuuji!”

“baby! hey, hey.. shhh, it’s okay. i’m sorry, i—i didn’t hear you. fuck.” itadori almost jolts when he pulls away from you, flinching slightly when he sees the tear stained look you’re giving him, the sight only making his own vision become blurred all the same. “didnt mean it, are you okay? can i touch you?” he’s hesitant, a little nervous but despite the way his cheeks are a little damp with tears he’s still too focused on yours. but just as quickly as you’re nodding out a yes he’s pulling you against his chest, squeezing you tight as he showers you in apologises and kisses along your skin. “wont do it again, baby. promise, love you so much.. don’t hate me.”

・✶ ｡ﾟNANAMI KENTO

it was unlike nanami to be rough with you, too rough atleast — he was normally so aware of how he handled you, being able to control himself no matter how much he wanted to let go. but you’d caught him after a long shift at work, he was exhausted and wanted to lose himself in you a little, relief some duress.

it’s unlike him the way nanami’s fucking you, all sharp thrust and rough smacks of his hips as he buries his cock into your walls — fingering almost painfully grabbing at the swell of your ass as he bends you over the table in the living room. he’s barely out of his clothes, shirt and tie still on although a little loosely and his pants are only pulling down enough for him to slip his cock out, to bully into your cunt and let the stress from his day melt away with every intoxicating squeeze of you around him.

“just be good, sweetheart.” nanami grits out, his tone low with exhaustion before his pace is growing faster, rougher and it’s uncomfortable the way he’s pressing you against the cold wood below you — it digging sharply into your hips as he fucks you into it. “s-slow down.” you try to reason, reaching behind you blindly to push at his chest but his own hand only catches you, pinning your limb to your back before he’s groaning; ragged and almost irritated in a way that has you wanting to shrivel up.

“what did i say?” he drawls, and when you turn to meet the heavy-lidded, carefully blank look he sends you, you almost scream when it’s accompanied by a too sharp thrust up into you—making you jolt painfully against the table just as nanami’s cock grazes against something a little too deep inside of you. “gold.. gold, please!” but he listens when he carefully pulls out of you, turning you to face him as his features immediately soften. “everything okay? did i hurt you, sweetheart?” the soft tone is familiar when you hear it, instantly soothing you anxieties and the throb you feel in your hips comes soon after when his hands massage at the spot, followed by a kiss smeared along your forehead. “let me run you a bath, would you like that?”

© 2022 garoujo. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

[mncxbe]

Sfw 8 + NSFW 12 + 17 with Denji

My babygirl deserves some love <3

the way i ate this up😳 the brainrot is brainrotting. collegeAU with Denji cuz I like to believe he'd be as much of a loser then♡ gaah i love him so much. also y/n is rich rich👀 for extra silly and damn this turned out way longer than i anticipated.

8– accidentally walking in on them while they're changing

12– catching them stealing your panties

17– they worship your body

ღೀ๋࣭ ⭑𝒄𝒘: alcohol cunsumption (reader is tipsy), cunnilingus, Denji being a perv, implied virginity loss, subby Denji

For your 19th birthday you decided to host the greatest party of the year and everyone in your grade was invited.

The penthouse your parents allowed you to live in during college was nicely decorated– black and white balloons and drizzle, flashy lights and speakers that started blaring loud music as soon as the sun set. Everyone was having a blast, downing glasses of neon colored punch and cheap beer, dancing and chatting in groups. Well, everyone except you. You were painfully bored.

When you threw the party of the year you didn't expect everyone to forget the purpose of the whole fucking event– celebrating your birthday.

You've been sitting all by yourself on the couch for the past half hour, sipping on a plastic cup of cocktail. Your gaze mused on the livingroom of your apartment, trying to find someone interesting to talk to. The only people who approached you were some guys from Arts who tried to chat you up, but they rambled on about some uninteresting exhibitions and you soon got bored and shunned them.

As you got up to refill your glass, you noticed someone slipping inside your bedroom. The fuck.. you thought, pushing past drunk people on your way towards your room. You swung the door open and saw a blond guy about your age standing in front of your dresser. When he heard you barge in he immediately slammed the drawer shut, his head snapping in your direction.

It was Denji. Just Denji.

Though you briefly interacted with the Denji, you knew him from highschool. He was the guy who used to let other students use him as a chair during breaks for some spare change. You remembered working on some group projects with him back then but you seldom saw him around campus now. He mostly kept to himself, so you were surprised too see him at your party in the first place— not to mention you certainly didn't expect to catch him going through your lingerie drawer. Still, maybe this wasn't such a bad thing...

"Well, well what do we have here?" you chuckled, leaning against the doorframe with your arms crossed.

"Y/N hi" he said nervously, tugging at the collar of his shirt "I was just um... looking for a place to change. Someone spilled some punch on my clothes"

You noticed the stain on his shirt and smiled, closing the door behind you. "And you thought you'd find a clean tshirt somewhere next to my panties?"

A blush crept on his face as he looked down at his shoes. "No, I mean I was just looking..." he fumbled "It's not like I was snooping around on purpose, i'm not that kind of guy" His voice was weak, half hearted as he looked around the room. At anything but you.

Swaying your hips, you closed the distance between you "So you're not some perv who's trying to steal my panties?" you asked and he shook his head. "N-no I'd never–"

"The show me your pockets"

Denji's face grew livid when he heard your command and you knew you had him. He was caught red handed and there wasn't much he could do about it. If he admitted maybe you'd at least allow him to stay at the party for a bit longer The boy couldn't bear to look you in the eyes as he reached a hand to the back pocket of his jeans and procured a pair of your lacy panties.

"Here, take them, but just know it's not what you think." It was cute that he still tried to find excuses for his actions and you blamed the alcohol for the heat pooling in your lower abdomen. Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, you gazed up at him with droopy eyes.

All the while, Denji was getting more and more nervous. His palms were sweaty, heart hammering in his chest as he peered at you. God, you were so damn beautiful– Though he didn't admit it, Denji had a crush on you from the first moment he saw you. You were the pretties girl in school, which meant you were way out of his league. A goddess like you would never spare a moment of her time on someone like him, right? Well, his conviction was starting to crumble now that he saw the way you eyed him down with that taunting glint in your eyes.

"Ya know, Denji, I don't recall you giving me a gift or wishing me happy birthday. It's awfully rude of you." you slurred, tapping the floor with the tip of your heels.

His sorry excuses were half drowned by the blaring music in the other room. Your head was starting to get foggy from the alcohol, limbs growing heavier, as if an invisible weight was pulling you down against mattress. "Jee... quit the whining" you giggled, waving a dismissive hand in his direction "I'm not mad at you. However, I do think you need to make up for it."

"Y/N, I told you I'm in a tight spot with money this month, but I'll buy you something nice once I get my paycheck."

"I'm not talking about that" you deadpanned, a sly smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Your gaze drifted down towards his belt and then back up to his face, taking in his frame. You couldn't deny he wasn't bad looking. Out of all the guys at the party, he seemed the best option for a casual hookup– not to mention he was already interested in you, so why not give it a try? With a motion of your finger, you beckoned him closer, pointing at the floor "Get on your knees."

Denji swallowed the lump in his throat and gathered the courage to step away from your dresser. With hesitant steps he covered the distance between the two of you and kneeled before you, his hands folded in his lap. His fists clenched and unclenched as he anxiously waited for your instructions.

To be frank, you never expected him to obey so you were quite taken aback by his attitude.

"You still let people order you around, Denji? How cute" you cooed, hooking your right leg over his shoulder and pulling him closer to the edge of the bed.

The blond tried his best not to peek under your skirt, his face turning red from embarrassment. He's never been so close to a girl before, let alone someone as beautiful as you and he was nervous. As if reading his mind you let out a low chuckle, hiking up your skirt.

"Come on, Denji, take off my panties. If you make me feel good I'll let you keep them."

By this point Denji was too far gone. Your silken voice put him under a spell and he eagerly pulled down your lingerie. A small moan slipped past his lips when he saw the string of arousal connecting your pussy to the silky fabric, his features melting into a pleading expression. He looked so needy, gazing at your bare cunt with those puppy eyes, his hands shaking lightly as he fully removed your panties and let them fall in his lap.

"There you go, Denji. Get a good look of it." you encouraged, running your fingers through his tangled hair to ease him into the new situation. You could tell it was his first time seeing a woman naked and didn't want to scare him off. So you took things slowly, waiting for him to get comfortable. Little did you know there was no need for that.

Denji was basically drooling over your pussy. He rested his head against your thigh, leaning into your touch as he spread your puffy folds with his thumb. His breath stuck in his throat when he noticed just how wet you were and it was all because of him. With shaky fingers, he collected the slick from your hole and spread it nicely along your clit, making you flinch.

"There?" he asked in a barely audible voice but you heard him nevertheless. "Y-yea, right there."

He slowly drew circles on your bud, making you writhe on the mattress and you spread your legs wider, shamelessly grinding on his hand. Sloppy movements over your clit had increased in intensity and you could feel the knot in your abdomen tighten with each swipe of his digits.

"Go on, baby, give it a taste" you said in a hushed voice and he immediately obliged. Hooking your other leg over his shoulder, Denji's hands gently massaged your thighs. He kissed his way up to your core, wet lips tracing the inside of your thighs, teeth nipping at your skin but not enough to leave marks.

He licked a stripe of your cunt from your hole to your clit, relishing the taste of your arousal. You were basically melting on his tongue and he was adamant to please you. As the grip on your thighs tightened, Denji collected some spit in his mouth and let the blob slide down your slit. He started eating you out slow, savouring the heat on his tongue but he soon increased the pace. It was clear that he had little idea of what he was doing– he was sloppy, messy, a mixture of slick and spit coating his chin as he lapped at your juices and you swore you got ten times wetter just by hearing him moan into your cunt.

His tongue flicked your clit so eagerly, lips wrapping around your bud, giving it an experimental suck. Your hips jolted up in pleasure but Denji quickly pulled you back on his face.

"Is it good?" he mumbled, pussy drunk eyes briefly meeting your as you nodded.

"Y-yea. You're so good Denji, gonna make me cum soon."

He mewled at your praise, his ministrations growing in intensity as heat pooled in your core. You were so close, choked moans spilling from your lips as your vision blurred. Denji made you feel so good you were starting to regret not paying more attention to him all those years back. He ate you out like it was his lifeline, hugging your thighs closer to his face to keep you from squirming too much. When you came you came hard, nails grazing his scalp as you pulled him closer to your cunt, grinding down on his face to ride out your high.

"Denji fuck—" you whined, arching your back off the mattress and he gently massaged the fat of your thighs and hips, his hands seeking your body you.

"I got you, just cum for me ok? Please feel good" he said softly, kissing your pussy and the inner side of your thighs before working his way up to your belly. He didn't dare go past the line of your dress, though all he wanted was to keep touching and kissing, to soak you up in all the love and affection he harbored for you during all these years.

When you looked down at him with those droopy, drunk-dazed eyes his heart sank, a soft smile etching onto his features.

"Are you okay?" he asked in a small voice as you pushed yourself up to sitting and held his face in your hands, leaning towards him. Denji's eyes rolled back into his skull as you kissed him, his lashes fluttering shut. You could taste yourself on his tongue along with the sweet punch he drank earlier that night. The kiss was heated and you pulled him on top of you, tugging at the wristband on his jeans.

"H-hey wait a minute I've never done this before" he tensed up but you shushed him with another needy kiss.

"Shit, I don't care if you're a virgin Denji I just need you so bad right now. Please" you huffed out and he felt his dick getting impossibly harder. He could almost cum in his pants at the sight of your pleading expression.

"Okay..." he whispered, hesitantly unbuckling his belt and you could tell he was nervous again. With sloppy movements he managed to allign himself to your entrance, shuffling around to make sure everything was alright, but just as he was about to push himself inside he perked up, patting your thigh. "Oh, Y/N I almost forgot."

"What?" you whined, grinding your needy pussy on his length. Why can't he just fuck you already?

The blond looked down at you with a lovesick smile, his eyes sparkling with adoration "I think I still haven't wished you happy birthday"

[funkynumaki]

Identity V fingering headcanon (PT.1 (?))

Characters included; Luca Balsa, Andrew Kreiss, Mike Morton, Victor Grantz

A/N: this is my first post + my first time writing smut so I apologize if it's not the best!

Warning: fingering (g), praise (r, g), dacryphilia on Andrew and Victor's!, dom!reader x sub!characters

_________________________________________

|| Luca Balsa

- when you first brought it up he'd be surprise, but he's thrilled to try it out.

- the first time, he'd fidget a lot trying to get used to the feeling of your fingers inside him but when he's comfortable enough he's really into it.

- he wouldn't even hide his noises, it really shows how much he enjoys it.

- "are you sure you're okay with this?" You ask, still a bit uncertain. Giving him a chance to back down if he's uncomfortable with it. But, instead Luca nod looking at your lube covered fingers as it line itself on his hole. ".. Yeah.. Go on" He said, already out of breath. You nod at his approval, your finger find themselves sliding inside his hole. You could almost immediately feel him clench around you as his grip tightened. "F-fuck-..." He let out a small moan at the feeling trying to get used to it. He leaned his head to the crook of your neck, his dick throb at the sensation of being filled by your fingers. "Did it hurt?" You ask, willingly to stop if the pain is unbearable for him. Your fingers stopping their movement inside him. "Yeah.. A bit.. Don't stop. Please.." He whine when he feel your movement stopping inside him which followed by your smile of relief that you didn't hurt him. Your fingers pick up its pace again with each passing second he grow more and more comfortable with having your fingers inside of him. Starting to let out louder breathy moan as he lean in to get more contact with you.

"O-ohh fuck-! Please.. S'fuckin-good-..!"

|| Andrew Kreiss

- would be very hesitant, so getting him comfortable enough to agree will need a trustful relationship.

- he's so sensitive, he has no experience with any intimate moment so it's best if you start slow with him.

- the first time he feel your finger inside him, he's already shaking from pleasure. Moaning and whimpering your name while at the same time trying to covered his mouth to prevent himself from making noise.

- "a-ahh... Ple-ase-.." He whine as your finger continues to thrust in and out of his hole. Your movement is still slow and gentle, as he hide his face on the crook of your neck. Trying to mask the noises that's about to fall from his lips. "Please what, love? I want to hear you say it.." You cooe in his ear, your tone can be heard as a need for him to just tell you his desire that he's been trying to mask. Andrew's dick twitch as he feel your finger slowly starting to thrust a bit faster. "I- need y-you.. Please... Ne-need you s'bad..!" He begged feeling you fasting up your movement. His head fall back as he let out a soft cry. "Does it make you feel good, love?" You smirk feeling him clench around your fingers not wanting to lose contact to it. "Use your words" You whisper in his ear, reminding him.

"Y-yes... Love it-love it s'much--! Please... I-i need it-"

|| Mike Morton

- he was actually the one who brought it up, mostly because he had been edging in his seat to ask you to try it with him since forever. Which of course, you agree.

- feeling your finger inside him, he'd let out a choked moan. He was expecting it to feel good, but not this good.

- would buck his hips to get more sensation of your finger inside him.

- "oh shit..-" Mike let out a choked moan as he throw his head back, your finger sliding in and out of his hole in a faster pace than before. "You enjoy this way more than I expect you to" You whisper in his ear, loving his reaction. Mike mosn loud as he lean in closer to you, his teeth sinking on your skin. His body shake from the pleasure. "S'good-! Fu.. Ck-! Please-please-!m-more-nh" He whine out, bucking his hips lower to get more friction from your finger, watching his desperate plead you chuckle. Mike lean in closer to you wrapping his hand around your shoulder as he nip your neck. His mind too clouded to form an actual sentence. You smile fasting up your pace, your finger brushing against his prostate "Beg more then, love" You cooe softly.

"Please-pl-ngh-ease.. -! Want you s'bad--! S'good-..!a-ahh--"

|| Victor Grantz

- he was surprised when you ask him to try it, but there's almost nothing Victor wouldn't do for you.

- he's eager to please you, so when you decide to change up a notch and please him he was taken a back, but he'll do it as long as it makes you happy.

- he wasn't expecting what he just feel being fingered by you, the way his mind starts to get numb. And how it felt so good he can't even registered it for a moment.

- "aww.. Look at how adorable you are like that, f'me?" You cooe, trailing kisses on Victor's neck to his collarbone. If it was possible, there would be small hearts flying on top of his head, he was at pure bliss. "S'good... I-ilove-yo-mu.. Ahh--! Ch!" He cries out, eyes rolling to the back of his skull as your finger thrust deeper. "Be a good boy for me and tell me how much I'm pleasing you, right now, why don't'cha?" You grin, nipping on his neck, leaving some love marks on his neck. His head thrown back, as he arch his back when your finger brush against his prostate. "S'good.. Please-- L-love.. You-so mu-angh--!" You chuckle at his attempt at forming a sentence. Teasing him even more you lean in closer to his ear. "What's that? I don't bear you the first time, love"

"Ple-ahh-! It's s'good.. -you're s'good--! I-loveyou.. so-mahh-uch...--!"

____________________________________

request are open!

[punkshort]

Recovery

Summary: You care for Joel while he is on the mend from his injury. (Part two of Three Days)

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!reader, established relationship, set in the TWWW universe, no use of Y/N.

Warnings: language, discussion of injury, soft!Joel, smut (18+ MDNI), fingering, handjob, dirty talk, oral (m receiving)

Word Count: 4.5K

A/N: I didn't expect part one to be so well received, thank you everyone who liked/commented and wanted to be tagged in this story! I'm a little nervous about this one and I don't know if I like it now, I hope I did it justice.

Part Two

"C'mon, it ain't that far, I just wanna stretch my legs a bit," Joel said to you from the couch. You shook your head and gave him a stern look.

"Bill said you need to stay off that leg at least another week, you're just going to have to wait," you said as you finished making lunch. You placed his sandwich with a small salad on a tray and brought it over to the living room, where Joel had taken up residence for almost the past month while he healed. Under strict orders not to put unnecessary weight on his leg, he had been stuck on the couch during the warmest stretch of summer yet, and it was causing him to be a difficult patient.

"I'm losin' my mind here," he grumbled as he took a bite of sandwich. You rolled your eyes and bit your tongue as you went to go clean up the kitchen. You were doing your best to take care of him, and he was very agreeable in the beginning, but as his strength built up, so did his boredom.

"You're not invincible, you know. All you need to do is sit there and let us take care of you," you said over your shoulder. "Then you can do whatever you want."

"I feel fine, I don't need you hoverin' over me all the damn time," he said sharply. Shocked, you looked over at him from the kitchen. His eyes were cast down and focused on his food, completely unphased by how hurtful he was being. You turned away without saying anything in return as tears sprung to your eyes.

His recovery wasn't easy on you, either. You had to learn how to be a nurse in just a few short hours so he could have the comforts of home as soon as the doctor cleared him. At the time, you had been so exhausted from sleeping on a lumpy cot on the floor, but you put all your energy into paying close attention to what Bill, Jackson's resident doctor, and Carrie, his nurse, were telling you. They taught you how to take his blood pressure, change and clean his dressings, and a few physical therapy exercises you had to help him with daily. Not to mention the handful of medications you had to keep straight and the long list of "red flag" signs you had to remember. But you didn't mind, because it meant he was going to come home, and he was going to be okay. So, to hear him sound so ungrateful more than hurt your feelings.

You sniffled quietly before turning back around. He had finished eating and picked up a crossword, oblivious to your reaction. Taking a shaky breath in, you strode over to the living room to pick up his tray.

"Tommy's going to be here soon, I have to work this afternoon," you mumbled. Joel huffed and kept working on his crossword.

"Don't need him hoverin' over me, either. I'll be fine by myself. Could use the peace and quiet, anyway," he said, the last part mostly under his breath, but you still heard it.

You angrily dropped the dishes into the sink, making him jump and look up from across the living room.

"What the hell?" he yelled, his brows furrowed.

"Yeah, 'what the hell' is right, Joel," you replied with your hand on your hip and your lower lip trembling. "Maybe try showing a little gratitude for the people who are taking time out of their day to help you."

"I didn't ask for any help, I can take care of myself!" he shouted.

"No, you can't! You could have died, you asshole!" you yelled right back. One tear slid down your cheek, but he was too far away to notice it.

"Whoa! What's with all the yellin'?" Tommy said as he entered the kitchen. He looked back and forth between you and Joel, the two of you glaring at the other. He did a double take when he noticed you turn and subtly wipe the tears from your cheek.

"It's nothin'," Joel finally said, his voice quieter but still strained, and turned back to his crossword. Tommy took a step toward you and was about to speak, but you cut him off.

"I gotta go. Thanks for coming by, Tommy," you said quietly, and hurriedly made your way out the front door.

Tommy ticked his jaw to the side as he stared at the closed door for a moment before turning around, eyeing up Joel warily as he joined him in the living room.

"What the hell's the matter with you?" Tommy asked with a sigh as he crossed his legs, his ankle coming to rest on the top of his knee.

"I didn't do anythin'," Joel muttered, tossing the crossword down angrily before he continued. "I'm sick of bein' cooped up, I just wanted to take a short walk."

"Didn't Bill say you can't do that til next week?"

"Yeah, but c'mon, Tommy. I know my body, I know what I can do. I just wanted her help with this one thing-"

"One thing?" Tommy repeated, cutting Joel off. "One thing?! That girl's been killin' herself for you for a goddamn month, takin' care of everythin' around here and you think you're only askin' her for 'one thing'?"

Joel scoffed and crossed his arms, averting his gaze to look outside.

"This ain't none of your business, anyway," Joel replied, still avoiding his brother's glare.

"The hell it ain't," Tommy said bitterly, dropping his foot to the ground so he could lean closer to Joel, hoping to make his next words stick.

"I watched that girl fall apart that night. She wouldn't eat. She wouldn't sleep. She was fuckin' scared, Joel. I never saw her like that, ever," Tommy said firmly, watching as Joel's mouth twitched but kept his gaze directed out the window. "You ever think about that? 'Bout what she went through? She nearly tore the place down tryin' to get to you. Never left your side. She woulda cut her arms wide open so you could take her blood had Holly taken any longer to get there."

Joel's eyes dropped to the floor and he pursed his lips as he absorbed what Tommy said.

"That right?" Joel asked softly.

"Yeah, that's right. What the hell you think, Joel? For some reason, she loves you and would do anythin' for you. So maybe quit thinkin' about yourself for once," Tommy snapped, leaning back in his chair.

"I just feel so goddamn useless, Tommy," Joel said quietly, still looking at the ground. "I hate sittin' around like this."

Tommy sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Think of it like a vacation, because I'm gonna have your ass back on patrol as soon as possible, and you'll miss havin' your own personal nurse around, waitin' on you hand and foot."

Tommy picked up an old magazine and began leafing through it.

"You wanna watch a movie or somethin'?" Tommy asked, his eyes still glued to the magazine.

"Sure, yeah, pick whatever you want," Joel mumbled, lost in thought.

You came home from work, feeling guilty that you enjoyed the break away from the house, but you couldn't deny that a few hours helped quell your anger. Sighing, you walked into the kitchen to find Tommy doing the dishes.

"Oh, Tommy, you don't have to do that," you said as you walked up next to him and leaned against the counter, your back to the living room and Joel.

"It's no trouble, darlin'," Tommy said with a grin as he finished the last plate. "I fed the beast, so you try to take it easy tonight, yeah?"

You smirked at his nickname for Joel and nodded.

"Sure. Thanks again for sitting with him while I worked, we both appreciate it," you told him while he dried his hands and gave Joel a quick wave as you walked him to the front door.

"Anytime. I also set him straight for you," he said quietly with a wink. You scoffed and rolled your eyes. As if that man could ever be reasoned with.

"Good night, Tommy," you said as you shut the door. You took a deep breath, digging deep to find the patience to deal with Joel for the rest of the night. You really hoped he wasn't going to continue your argument from earlier. Between his round the clock care and your job, you were barely getting any sleep, and you just didn't have the energy to fight any more.

"Hey," you said tiredly as you made your way into the living room. Joel looked up from the TV when you spoke and reached for the remote to turn it down. You were about to collapse into the loveseat across from him when he stopped you.

"Why don't you come sit by me?" he asked softly. You gave him a look before you nodded and sat down on his left, leaning on the arm of the couch as you tucked your legs under you.

"What are you watching?" you asked with a yawn, trying to place the movie playing on the screen.

"Tired?" he asked, ignoring your question. You nodded, your eyes still on the TV. He reached out to place a hand on your thigh and gave it a gentle squeeze, finally drawing your attention onto him.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he said as he absentmindedly rubbed your leg. "I shouldn't've said all that to you, I didn't mean it. I appreciate everythin' you're doin' for me, I'm just... restless, or somethin'. And I took it out on you."

Your eyebrows shot up, surprised, as you stared into his deep, brown eyes. Eyes that were filled with shame and regret. You rested one of your hands on top of his, your thumb rubbing small circles over his knuckles.

"It's alright," you told him with a small smile. "I'm sorry, too."

"What are you sorry for?" Joel asked. You paused for a moment, opening your mouth to answer, but he cut you off.

"Are you sorry for spendin' all your time takin' care of some old, ungrateful jackass?"

The corner of your mouth twitched before you replied.

"You're not that old," you teased, and he smirked. "I just let all the stress get to me. It's fine, really. Maybe I'll go to bed early tonight, or something."

"Hm," he said, turning back to the TV.

"What?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothin'. Just was thinkin' maybe I can help you relax, considerin' how much you do for me," he said lowly, looking down as his fingers inched up your leg and brushed underneath the hem of your shorts.

"You have a broken pelvis, remember?" you said with a laugh.

"Yeah, but my fingers work just fine," he said, looking up at you and leaning over. His gaze darkened as he let his hand slide down between your legs, running his finger up the seam of your denim shorts and pressing gently against your clothed heat. You gasped and gripped his wrist.

"Joel," you whispered in a poor attempt to stop him as heat immediately bloomed between your legs. "You don't have to."

"I know. I wanna take care of you for once, please let me," he begged, leaning closer and wrapping his arm around your shoulders, tugging you towards him so he could slot his lips against yours while his other hand made its way to your hip, squeezing you there before he reached for the button of your jeans.

"Take these off," he whispered against your mouth after he pulled your zipper all the way down. You eagerly lifted your hips to pull down your underwear and shorts in one go, then brought your arms up to wrap around his neck as his tongue slid past your lips.

You were still sitting next to each other, the cast on his leg prohibiting him from doing much except sitting and laying on his back. You frowned when you realized this and pulled back, his mouth falling to your neck instead.

"How?" you asked him breathily. You slid your eyes shut and tilted your head back so he could gain better access to the underside of your jaw, letting out a low moan when he located your pulse point, his scratchy beard rubbing on your delicate skin.

"Sit on my lap," he mumbled against you before tipping his head in the other direction so he could pay the same mind to the other side of your throat.

"But, your -" you began, about to point out his many injuries were still healing before he cut you off.

"Sit on my fuckin' lap," he growled impatiently, his hands falling to your hips and giving you a forceful tug towards him. You decided to compromise, swinging your leg over to straddle him while you hovered above his hips, being mindful of applying too much weight. You brought your hands up to cup his face and crushed his lips with a bruising kiss, feverishly licking inside his mouth as you realized just how much you missed him, and that it had been so long since he last touched you. Even before the accident, his patrol route was exhausting him to the point where he was falling asleep before the sun set.

"Look at you," he whispered as he tipped his head back, breaking the kiss and looking you up and down, his eyes lingering at the way you were spread open for him. "I'm the luckiest son of a bitch in the world."

You felt your cheeks flush at the compliment, still taken aback at the change in him from just a few hours ago.

"Wow, what happened here when I was gone?" you asked him teasingly as you raked your fingers through his dark curls. Your breath hitched as he ran both his palms slowly up your bare thighs, squeezing gently as he made his way closer to the ache between your legs.

"Me and Tommy had a talk," he said, watching your face closely as his finger slid along your folds, causing you to jump.

"Easy," Joel murmured softly while pressing a warm kiss against your collarbone. You sighed and rolled your shoulders, trying to relax.

"It's been so long, Joel," you whimpered, trying to explain your reaction.

"I know, sweetheart," he cooed, bringing his middle finger back up to trace your seam again while his other hand held your hip steady this time. "Should be a fuckin' crime. You deserve to be worshipped every single day."

Joel sunk his middle finger inside you right as he finished his sentence, making you toss your head back with a moan. He smirked, always pleased he could pull those sounds out of you while he looked up to admire your face. Your eyes were squeezed shut, brows pinched, and your mouth hung open as you focused on the sensation of his thick finger stretching you out for the first time in weeks.

"So tight," he grunted, his eyes glazed over as he watched you struggle to find your breath while his finger slowly pumped in and out of your pulsing cunt. "Gotta relax."

You swallowed roughly and nodded, opening your eyes and softening your brow as you sucked air in through your parted lips. Once you felt yourself adjust, you began to bounce lightly on his hand, trying to match his rhythm, your fingertips digging into his shoulders for leverage.

"More," you whispered, licking your lips. Joel couldn't help the smug grin that spread across his face as he pulled his middle finger out of your pussy and popped it into his mouth, along with his pointer finger. You groaned when he gave you a satisfied wink at the taste. He brought his fingers back between your legs and pushed them both inside, your cunt immediately gripping his digits at the intrusion.

"Shit, that's it," Joel groaned, curling his fingers against your warm walls while he watched you bounce up and down on his hand again, this time with more force. You dropped your head to rest on his shoulder, your fingers digging harder into his arms.

"Remind me to thank Tommy tomorrow," you panted in his ear as a familiar pressure began building in your lower abdomen and warmth crawled up your chest and neck.

"He told me. 'Bout that night," he said through clenched teeth, trying to ignore his painfully hard cock. His other hand was held firmly on your hip, guiding you up and down to match the rhythm of his flicking wrist. He felt your hips stutter as you processed what he said, then you slowed down and leaned back to look at him.

"What about it?" you asked him quietly. He could sense your demeanor changing, so he lifted his thumb up to press against your clit, earning a sharp gasp from your throat before you reached down to stop him.

"What about it?" you asked again, firmly this time, staring down at him. He removed his hand from your hip so he could wrap it around the back of your neck, his thumb rubbing gently against your jaw.

"Told me how tore up you were, tryin' to see me," he whispered, his fingers pumping in and out of you painfully slow as he spoke. "How you couldn't eat or sleep, wouldn't leave my side." He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he felt his eyes begin to water. He blinked quickly before asking, "all that true?"

You sniffed and nodded before you began to roll your hips against his hand again. His thumb stroked along your jaw as you gazed at each other, the atmosphere in the room shifting to one more serious.

"I was so scared, Joel," you admitted quietly, your voice small. "I thought you were going to die."

Your lower lip trembled for a moment as you reached up to run your finger gently down his stubbled cheek and then again down the length of his nose as if to remind yourself he was real, that he lived and he was going to be okay. You let out a soft whimper when he pressed his thumb back against your clit, circling the bundle of nerves.

"It's okay, I'm right here," he whispered, pulling you down so he could press his lips against your mouth quickly before resting his forehead on yours. He dropped his hand back to your hip and urged you to go faster, curling his fingers inside you again until he found that spot that made your back arch.

"I can't lose you," you gasped as two tears slid down your cheeks. You pressed your forehead into his harder now, the muscles in your stomach tightening as his fingers expertly began to pull an orgasm out of you. "I love you so much."

"I love you, too, sweetheart," he said, leaning forward to suck a bruise into the delicate skin on your throat. His chest ached for causing you so much pain, wishing desperately he could take it all away.

You felt yourself clamp down on his fingers as his thumb slid back and forth across your clit, quickly bringing you to the edge.

"Shit, I'm -" you gasped and tilted your head back, unable to finish your sentence as you felt your orgasm begin to wash over you, a filthy moan erupting from your throat. Your legs shook and your vision went spotty as you felt your neck and face flush from the intensity.

"Ohmygod, Joel - fuck - " you cried out, swinging your head forward to rest on his shoulder as you tried to catch your breath.

"You're so fuckin' beautiful, I love makin' you feel good," he mumbled against you, gently biting at your earlobe. His fingers slowed inside you, waiting until he felt your body relax before he pulled them out to palm his erection through his sweatpants. You hissed at the loss, your cunt clenching around nothing, already missing his touch.

Forehead still resting on his shoulder, you panted lightly for breath, and glancing down, watched as he ran his hand aggressively up and down his clothed cock, trying to find some relief. A lazy smirk spread across your face.

You reached down to swat his hand away and dipped your fingers below his waistband. Your other hand gripped the sweatpants you cut a pantleg off so he could fit his casted leg through, and, giving them a little tug down, watched as his hard length bobbed up and slapped against his stomach.

Wrapping your hand gently around his cock, you slowly began to drag your fist up and down, your thumb brushing over his slit and collecting the wetness there.

"Fuck, sweetheart, you - ouch," he gasped with a wince. You froze and lifted your hips up even higher, glancing down to make sure you didn't accidentally sit on him.

"I'm sorry, are you okay?" you asked, letting him go as you were about to swing your leg back over, but his hand shot up to stop you, gripping your thigh firmly to hold you in place.

"You're fine, wasn't you," he rasped, opening his eyes to look at you. "I moved my hips. When you touched me, I - nevermind, keep goin'," he said with a shake of his head and reached for your hand, placing it back around his erection.

"Are you sure?" you asked, but began to slowly move your fist up and down anyway. He nodded, his eyes sliding shut while he leaned his head back on the couch cushion.

"Yeah. Fuck, that's it - faster," he mumbled, one eye peering open so he could find your wrist to show you the pace he preferred.

"So impatient," you teased with a smirk, and he huffed. "But that's okay," you whispered, leaning forward as you twisted your wrist up and down his cock, feeling it pulse under your fingertips. "I'll give you whatever you want, baby."

"Don't say shit like that to me, gonna make me come way too fast" he said with a groan, his fingers releasing their death grip on your leg to press firmly against your overly sensitive clit again, making you cry out.

"Oh god, Joel," you whined, your head falling forward on his shoulder again. You could feel the tears pricking the corners of your eyes as your thighs shook, your body still too sensitive from your first orgasm.

"Can't wait til I can fuck you again," he gasped, another dribble of precum trickling over his tip as your fist continued to work him up and down. "I'm gonna spend the whole day inside this perfect little pussy, you hear me?"

You nodded, your head still resting on his shoulder, your eyes closed and your mouth agape as his fingers pressed quick circles over your clit. The pain from the overstimulation quickly subsided as your stomach began to tighten again, your breaths coming in short drags.

"Whole town's gonna hear you screamin' my name," he continued to ramble, squeezing his eyes shut as he felt the white-hot flames begin to burn in his lower abdomen. "All fuckin' day. Gonna be filled with my cock, or my fingers, or my tongue. You ain't gonna be able to walk the next day, I can promise you that."

You gasped his name, cunt pulsing around nothing as you felt a trickle of your release drip down your leg, his filthy words taking you right over the edge of your second orgasm. Your hand only paused for a second on his cock before you continued to jerk him up and down, faster now, wanting him to join you.

"Shit, I'm gonna come," Joel groaned, his hand falling from your center and his head leaning back so he could watch your fist work him.

"Wait," you said, shakily lifting your hips so you could bring your feet to the ground between his legs. Gently, you nudged his good leg to the side so he would give you more room to sink to your knees before him. You looked up at him through your eyelashes and opened your mouth, sticking out your tongue before wrapping your fingers around his cock again. You tapped the underside of his tip on the warm surface of your tongue, letting him know where you wanted it. With a low moan and his fingers clutching your hair, he watched, entranced, as his hot, white ropes of cum covered your tongue, his gaze darkening as you stared him right in the eye and swallowed with a smirk.

"I mean it, sweetheart," he panted, unblinking with a shake of his head. "All day. All fuckin' day."

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Mr. Miller," you told him, standing up and bracing yourself with your arms planted on either side of his head. You leaned down to give him a soft kiss before you twisted your body, collapsing on the couch next to him and tiredly pulling your clothes back on.

You laid there for a while, the side of your head resting on his good leg as you both caught your breath and stared mindlessly at the TV, not absorbing any of the dialogue while his fingers drew lazy circles on your back.

"I'm sorry I put you through all this," he said, breaking the silence. You turned your head so you could look up at him while he spoke. "Shoulda been more careful. That place was fallin' apart, I don't know what the hell I was thinkin'."

He looked down to meet your gaze, his eyes flitting across your face before he tucked a loose piece of hair behind your ear.

"You were thinking you had a town to help protect," you told him, sitting up. "That's what you do. You keep us safe, and you find things to bring back to help us survive." You reached a hand out to cup his face. "All that matters is you're going to be okay."

"No," he said, his hand coming up to cover the one you had pressed against his cheek. "You are all that matters." He pulled your hand away, giving it a quick kiss before holding it in his lap. "You are all I care about keepin' safe."

His eyes fluttered shut a moment before he sighed and opened them again.

"I've been lookin' for you my whole damn life. I ain't gonna fuck it up now," he said, his voice pained. "I promise you, I'll be more careful."

You scooted closer to him, leaning in to press your mouth against his, your lips pulling at his lower lip tenderly before leaning back. His hand came up to grip your chin, his thumb running gently over your lip.

"Will you sleep down here with me tonight?" he asked you earnestly. You nodded right away.

"Of course," you said with a small smile. "I was already planning on it."

The couch wasn't very big, so since his injury, you've been sleeping alone in bed. But after the emotional day, you each felt the urge to remain close. So, you gathered your pillows and an extra blanket and made yourself a bed on the loveseat, but somehow ended up squeezed onto the couch with Joel, curled up at his side, right where you both belonged.

Tag List: @chiogarza, @sparklejumpropequeen-777, @shotgun-shelby @partyofone3413 @nana90azevedo @ninaminaromina @amyispxnk @untamedheart81 @taz-97 @ilovemybrown-eyedbabygirl @orcasoul

[saturnsorbits]

Don't Ask, Don't Get

Fandom: My Hero Academia, Warnings: Talk of Losing Virginity, Virgin!Reader, FuckBoy!Kirishima-ish, Suggestive, Teasing, Word Count: 1.1k.

Summary: Kirishima has a reputation. You still have your virginity. How about that, huh?

A/N: Did I finally write something after all this time? Yes. Is it also mostly unfinished and very short? Also, yes. Will there be a part two? Maybe.

The clock on the wall ticks. It's an ugly thing, gimmicky, with thick, oddly carved arms poking out from either side. For a moment you just watch it, listening to the rhythmic beat of its arms as they shift counting down one minute, then two. You squint. It's ten minutes early, like someone has deliberately set the time to induce a constant state of minor panic.

Which is, from where you're sitting, pretty damn unneeded.

Perched on the edge of the bed, you feel pretty out of place amongst the scattered dumbbell weights and hanging medals. It's to be expected, of course. After all, this isn't your room and it's certainly not your bed.

No.

It's the bed of a boy.

And, not just any boy...

Kirishima Eijirou leaves the bathroom encased in a thick layer of steam. His hair is wet, having just showered, and down, it's ends tickling the tanned skin of his shoulders. The towel around his waist is tied poorly, dipping so low on his hips that the start of his dense thicket of pubic hair is clearly visible. He rakes a hand through his hair causing the muscle of his bicep to tense and the meat of his pec to stretch and jiggle.

It makes your stomach feel funny.

'So...' Flashing his signature bright smile, he digs a hand into the curve of his hip drawing your eye to the defined dips there. 'What did you want to talk about?'

I…’ You clear the dryness from your throat. ‘I was talking to Mina.’

‘Oh no.’ Kirishima grins. His eyebrows arc playfully on his forehead.

His mood is infectious and you find yourself sharing his smile; you’re not sure you’d be able to resist it if you tried. There’s something about him that makes you feel at ease, allowing you to sink deeper into his mattress as a girlish chuckle slips from your lips. ‘She…’ You swallow. ‘Well, we were talking and -.’

Kirishima rolls his shoulders, causing his still wet skin to shine softly in the light.

The motion steals your thoughts and ruins your confidence. ‘She said she knew you in middle school…’ You cringe. It’s not a lie. That was how the conversation had started after all. How it had ended, however and the reason you’d found yourself in Kirishima’s room at almost midnight on a Tuesday in your only pair of fancy, matching underwear… Was a different matter entirely.

If he notices the sudden, awkward detour in the conversation, he doesn’t mention it. Instead, he laughs. A full bodied rumble vibrates through his chest, eliciting a chuckle that is half-kitten, half-avalanche. ‘Yeah. I was - uh - I was pretty different back then.’

You know. You’ve seen pictures on Mina’s phone. Back then, Kirishima had been small, with a mop of black hair and a smile that never saw the light. It’s a far cry from who he is now… Big, bright and boisterous. 'Yeah...'

'Did you and Mina talk about anything else?' He cocks an eyebrow, his large palms digging into the flesh of his hips.

'Yeah, we... We -.' You can feel his gaze on you, gentle and piercing all at once, but he doesn't force you to talk. Instead, he waits, patient, with that smile on his face that makes you want to know what it would be like to sit on it.

There's a sparkle in his eyes when he licks over his lower lip and rumbles. 'C'mon, you know you can just ask, right?'

All of the embarrassment in your body flames in your face. You can feel it bubbling there, threatening to make you do something stupid as you look up at the boy with a too bright smile and a cock that you've been promised will ruin you. 'I -.'

Taking a measured step forward, Kirishima leaves barely an inch between your knees. His smile is still blinding, but now, there's something new wedged in-between his teeth. 'You know...' Nudging at your knee with his, he encourages open your legs and steps between them. 'Mina and I have known each other forever.' Reaching down, he hooks a finger underneath your chin and presses his thumb to the bump of your lower lip. 'We talk too.'

A shiver breaks out down your spine making you feel too hot and too cold all at once. The hold he has on your face, although gentle, feels like a choke hold. The pads of his fingers calloused, keeping you easily at his mercy. 'I -.'

'So, just ask.'

His new proximity makes you dizzy as one million and on thoughts are sent speeding through your head at once. It's hard to think, hard to comprehend anything that isn't the rough of Kirishima's hand and the purr of his voice as he looks down on you sweetly, waiting with a patience you'd thought impossible. Swallowing, you loosen your tongue, but what leaps from your mouth is far from the question you'd wanted to ask. 'I'm a virgin.'

'Yeah?'

The bright sparkling you'd mistaken for curiosity has returned to his eyes, but now, there's something else laced within their red seas. It makes your chest tight and your pulse sink, migrating lower than you've ever felt it before. Instead of answering, you nod.

'Do you think that bothers me, sweetheart?' He coos. The hand curled under your chin tips, forcing your face further up. From this position, there's no avoiding his eye, forcing you to gaze right at him as he smirks.

A whine breaks through the seam of your lips, surprising even you as you feel yourself beginning to slip. You've never felt like this, both helpless and secure at the same time, but the way his eyes seem to glow when he looks at you has you treading air. He hasn't even touched you yet.

His eyes burn dark, hungry, as he lets his gaze slip down your body. A cool smirk itches at the side of his mouth, pulling his lip just enough to expose the ends of sharp teeth. As if reading your thoughts, Kirishima taps his thumb against your lip. Leaning down, he closes in until he can feel the soft pants of your breath fan against his cheeks.

'Because it doesn't.'

You squeak. His cheeks have warmed, giving his boyish charm an added highlight as the vulgarity slips easily from his tongue. It contrasts with the sweetness still lingering in his smile, promising so much more than his boyish charm.

'Use your words... C'mon, tell me what you want.'

'I...' You swallow. Between the heat already building in your stomach and the embarrassment coiled low, you're tongue tied, but you know you're not going to get what you want without asking for it – he's made that more than clear. 'I... I - want you to fuck me...'

He chuckles, tilting his head. 'Yeah?..'

You fidget in the space he leaves. 'Please?'

'Oh.' Kirishima's eyes blow wide, a wicked smile pulling at the edge of his lip. 'Look at you using your manners...' He licks at his teeth. 'I think we're going to have a lot of fun, Sweetheart.'

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