#look how beautiful he looks with it brushed to the side like this

[kshira]

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘’𝐑𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐘 𝐖/ 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍 𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐓!

+ albedo, xiao, zhongli, childe, kazuha, gorou

tw. fem!reader, cursing, praise, fingering, f!oral, jealous/possessive tones, breeding kink, m!oral, dom! w/ sub! reader

an. first time writing for genshin just had to do my most famous troupe ;)

☉ 𝐚𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐨

translucent blue eyes watch from a distance, your limbs clings to the sides of your body as the bitter cold settles across mondstat, your skin rises with a chill and as you look at him over your shoulder—albedo feels heat settle in his cheeks amongst another warmth resolving somewhere else.

“my love” albedo whispers, motioning for his feet to move onward towards you, arms wrapping around your body as he lays his chin on your shoulder. “have i ever told you just how beautiful you are?” he murmurs, smiling against your skin when his fingers begin to climb, reaching solace in your breasts, two digits rolling across your clothed nipples.

you could answer but albedo seems to have made the question rhetorical, he feels the hitch in your lungs—that small gasp filtering your chest while he toys with your tits, keeping a steady hand on one breast while the other dwindles down to slip into your bottoms.

“you’re wet, pretty girl. this won’t take long to make you mine” albedo breathes into your skin, laying his tongue flat against exposed flesh as he dips two fingers through your folds, he smiles feeling your back arch against him—the way your cunt clenches around his fingers, juices dripping down to the palm of his hand.

how easily you’re falling apart from two of his fingers, albedo wonders how much you’d cream around his cock and if you could look anymore beautiful, he’d probably cum so much quicker inside you but albedo knows you’d beg for more—just like right now, as he is knuckle deep, curling and pounding into your weeping hole until a sheen wetness covers his fingers.

“so perfect” albedo hums, bringing his fingers up to spread them showing you what you had done to just his measly fingers. heat soaks deep within the apples of your cheeks, albedo seems to find it rather cutely played how coy you can be when you were practically begging for more, “you shouldn’t act so shy, princess. this mess is all for me, hm? so, show me how good i really make you feel on something else—it is all yours afterall.”

☉ 𝐱𝐢𝐚𝐨

it’s not necessarily foreign to xiao the way his cock twitches at just the sight of your body under him and he’s done this before—or so he thinks he has yet the way your eyes resemble a backwards doe-like look makes him want to buckle under the pressure.

you’re so responsive to his touch, slender fingers diving between your legs while he pumps the two digits so eagerly, lips parted with heated moans brushing past his tongue. “does it feel good?” xiao questions, chest rattling with an uneasy beat—he knows he’s making you feel good you’ve already soaked the sheets beneath you but xiao can’t help but crave to hear it.

xiao wants to be patient with you, devour your body to its full consumption but he’s driving himself insane, almost becoming a mortal being as you wiggle and writhe under him needing more of him and so xiao does indulge into your subtle begs, fisting his cock once more before plunging it into your fluttering hole, the other hand crashing beside your face while xiao rolls his hips.

“tell me what to do—tell me how to fuck you” xiao moans, teeth sinking into his bottom lip when you answer with your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper into a indescribable submerge of bliss. the nerves in his limbs grow numb, your nails digging into his back feel like nothing but solid pleasure driving him to fuck you harder, xiao is almost at a loss of everything until your lips find his and he’s finally landing back upon earth.

you hold his face within your hands, watching unblinking golden orbs fascinate into you, xiao allows a smile to creep along the edges of his lips, “you’re everything i’ve ever wanted.” he keeps his words hushed, a low groan following after the sentence as xiao continues pounding his cock deeper into your pussy—from being clueless about you to needing to know more; xiao had wanted nothing more but pain and solitude but now he can’t even paint the world without you in it.

☉ 𝐳𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢

zhongli is unphased by almost everything, he seems to find himself locked into another world of some sorts—that is until he watches from a distance how people didn’t know how to keep their hands to themselves, or the way words weren’t filtered as they crept into the shell of your ear.

zhongli soon feels a heat rise to his gut, anger coursing through those stagnant veins, and he could try to deny it—an ache throbbed below his gut. but he tried brushing it off at first—until you were left alone with him and zhongli wanted nothing more than to show you—who exactly you belonged to.

the approached deemed necessary for zhongli to wrap his fingers around your delicate throat pulling you into a sloppy kiss while careful fingers unraveled your clothing, allowing your back to hit the sheets of his bed while he crashed to his knees, eager hands gripping the back of your thighs as zhongli spreads them apart, lingering his gaze from your disheveled face to his glistening pussy.

“they all seem to think you belong to anybody but me” he groans through his teeth, experimentally laying his tongue out flat to slide the warm muscle through your folds, bucking into his face when zhongli shoves two fingers into your clenching hole. “you know i don’t get jealous often, princess. but something about the way they flirt with you makes me want to make you cum so much quicker.”

zhongli groans again as his tongue wraps around your puffy clit, sucking and quickening his pace of his fingers curling deeper into your pussy, thighs trembling around his face gives zhongli the notion that you’ll never cum this quick with anybody else, your moans rupturing from your chest never will sound so self indulgent to not another soul but him.

he takes a second to suck on your clit, bringing your orgasm to the surface and that’s all he needs—all zhongli needs to see that you’re his, “next time they attempt to talk to you my love, will you remember how hard you cum as my face is between your thighs or should i make you cum on my cock next, hm?”

☉ 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐞

childe was usually more careful with you on days spent with bodies entangled under cotton waves, soft murmurs of moans lingering your skin and fingers intertwined never leaving but only to grasp onto him harder. but childe might have reeled this scenario in his head and he might just have happened to want to rush it just this once because the thought—was insufferable if he couldn’t see it in person.

“pretty girl” childe coos, pinning your legs to your chest, a smirk edges his lips when he watches your hole flutter around nothing—you’re already dripping, expecting him to toy with your pussy until childe was satisfied but tonight he had better ideas. “how much cum do you think you can take?” childe smirks, bending down to press a kiss on your forehead before he sinks his fat cock inside you, pushing past the tight vice grip on his length until he bottoms out—struggling to hold a moan back when he feels just how perfect your pussy was made for him.

“do you feel that princess? this pussy is wanting me so bad” childe grits through his teeth, spreading your legs further apart so he can watch how much you’re being split open by him. he already wants to cum so bad—deep inside you, let the mess fill your hole while he fucks more into you and he doesn’t even feel bad when you’re begging for it, nails sinking into his skin when he’s three pumps in and his cum leaks out of you in seconds.

“fuck baby, you’ve made me cum so quick—wanna see this pretty hole filled with nothing but my cum” childe throws his head back when more of his seed dumps into your hole, he loves how messy it feels around his cock, the noises you’re making feel like heaven to his ears and whenever he is finally done fucking your sensitive hole, childe will have to just fuck more into you—you’re his to put as much cum inside you as he can, right?

☉ 𝐤𝐚𝐳𝐮𝐡𝐚

kazuha seems to forget you sleep longer than he ever has, his chest vibrates with warmth from your back pressed tightly against him, the subtle way your chest seems to rise so delicately. and even more importantly kazuha lacks the knowledge of what the early start of something else really brings forth.

it starts with a pulse below his stomach, blood dropping lower causing nothing but growth and nothing but an ache he hates when you can’t resolve it for him. but kazuha knows the innocent kisses along your shoulder blade would surely wake you, calloused pads skimming across warmth flesh till he feels you stir awake from your sleep and just the roll of his hips on your ass is just a cute little sign.

“good morning, my love” kazuha breathes out, placing tender kisses on your cheek while your fingers card through his messy strands of hair that have fallen from his ponytail. you don’t mind the second thing he does is spread your thighs apart, lifting one leg over his own so you’re easier to touch—with greedy fingers he finds you already wet and maybe he shouldn’t yet—he does, springing his cock free and sliding it through the wetness clinging to your cunt.

“need you, always need you to make me feel good” kazuha hums, wasting no time sinking his cock in, gasping when your pussy clamps down on his length. he rocks his hips to uneasy pace, kazuha slowly closes his eyes while he rests his face into the back of your neck, moaning and whimpering when his swollen cock grows closer to spilling his seed inside you.

kazuha wraps his fingers around your throat, tilting your face to meet his as he crashes his lips against your own, tongue gently scraping across inner cheeks, the other hand finding your puffy clit and quickly drawing soft circles, “i want to cum for you and you’re going to take it like a good girl, yeah?” kazuha whispers in your mouth, smirking along the lines of your lips when he feels a weak attempt of happily saying yes to him when he’s making you feel like your entire body is dissolving.

☉ 𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐮

“you should relax” you whisper out to gorou from the floor of his room, he ceases the words falling from his lips to look down at you, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion before gorou is back to rambling about another mission. but you seem to ignore him this time, slowly climbing from the floor until your face is pressed in his lap.

“w-what’re you doing?” gorou stammers, watching as you carefully spring his cock free, giving it a couple of small licks until he grows harder in your hand. “getting you to relax” you murmur against his length, guiding the head into your mouth until you can swallow more of him. gorou jets his eyes across the room before shakily placing a hand on your head, fingers grazing across your hair until he gives it a hard grip.

you toy with his cock, licking and slurping until he twitches in your mouth, the other hand coming up to cup his clenching balls—his chest is filled with an erratic beat, lips tremble between his teeth and you bring his orgasm to the surface before pulling away leaving a string of spit in the wake.

“d-dont stop, i-i do need this” gorou whines, struggling to put your hot mouth back on his swollen cock, you smile up at him—how pitiful he looks but how much greed circles the pupils of his eyes. “relax, pretty boy. i’ll make you cum” you coo at him, going back to what you were doing earlier but this time with a quicker pace so gorou is already seeing stars in his blurred vision.

“s-so good for me” gorou slurs, unable to control the way his hips buck into your face, nails digging into your scalp and when you really know he’s beginning to grow close you can taste the pre-cum dripping down your throat, gorou throws his head back when you take more and more of him until you’re gagging, spit dripping from the corners of your mouth and finally as he reaches the end he really can’t help slamming your face deep into his lap.

you swallow all that gorou has and keep going because just one load down your throat isn’t enough to relax him and though gorou is so sensitive right now he’s not going to stop you—he’s being needy now, whimpering when he’s already so fucking hard, the leftover mess spilled in his lap and that beautiful fucking sight of you sucking his cock to make him feel just a little bit better.

[peterthepark]

venus, planet of love

pairing: steven grant x f!reader

tags: 18+ graphic smut with plot, mentions of marc and khonshu, mentions of therapy and brief panic attack depiction, all the fluffy feels, mutual pining, idiots in love, inexperienced!steven and reader, the l-bomb and lovey dovey sex, aftercare, about 9k word count teehee, friends to lovers

summary: art models are surprisingly hard to come by in london. maybe they just don’t want to work with you. maybe they’re intimidated. steven thinks you’re pretty and marc thinks it’s time to act on it. who knew steven grant would be up for a portrait?

note: first moonknight fic!!! here’s to many more :) feedback and reblogs are 100% appreciated, thanks!

- masterlist - steven grant playlist

“It just looks so smooth, like I want to touch it.”

“What? Her arse?”

The Rokeby Venus stands out as striking against the patterned red wallpaper of the gallery. The painted depiction of Venus is a stark paste of white, sensual and vividly nude as your eyes follow the curvature of brushstrokes on her backside. The soft greys, reds and creams compliment the fleshy paraphernalia of the painting; your starry eyes wander in a mixture of awe and engrossment, while your fidgeting friend beside you finds his gaze on another work of wonder.

“I’m appreciating the art, Steven. Not the arse.” 

The corners of your lips tweak into something in the sorts of regale as you deliberately scribble onto your notepad, the sound of the number-two pencil against paper filling the eerie solitude of the museum. Steven’s attentive stare follows the tiny scrunching of your nose and soon, he finds himself amused at how your expression slowly shifts into unmistakable concentration. 

It’s endearing. 

Especially when he sees the tip of your tongue poke out from between your lips, nestling against the bottom of one of your front teeth. 

Adorable. 

“Oh, you’d loathe the ancient Egypt exhibit then. Not a tad bit of arses there.” Steven finally catches your eye, your head lifting from hunched shoulders to listen to him. His comment draws a quiet chuckle out of you, to which you motion for him to go on. He doesn’t hesitate. “Well, I mean, nudity had a proper place and time then. The Egyptians prided themselves in — in fashion, in jewels and beads, fabric and linens. Really, nudity was practically associated with work or oftentimes, social status. Royalty loved to dress up. You don’t see many naked ushabti, yeah?”

The strewn sentences leave him with a deep exhale, mouth parting as he gauges your reaction carefully. You’ve always adored his bursts of passion. Youthful, exciting, like the first tall flame of a new candlelight.

Steven makes an effort to ignore the image of Marc harshly rubbing his temples in the golden frame of the painting.

“I don’t think Velázquez intended nudity to be the central theme.” You mindlessly tuck the notepad into the tote bag on your shoulder. The movement causes your elbow to brush against Steven’s forearm, and he gulps roughly at the tingling of his skin. “Nor do I think it’s completely about Venus.”

“Whaddya think then?” 

You quirk a brow at his question. “I think… I mean, it’s obviously an allusion to sexuality and the aesthetic of it. But not sex. More like—”

“Beauty.”

You glance at him briefly, voice getting caught in your throat as you lose your train of thought just by looking at him.

“Yeah. Beauty, women, attraction, it’s all very speculative…” 

His side profile is something you’ll never get used to. The singular curl that unravels down his forehead knocks the wind right out of you, the dark chocolate strand begging to be wrapped around your finger and the rest carded through your palms.

Sometimes, you think he deserves a museum exhibit of his own, dedicated to his constant busy mind and to the soft yet simultaneously roughened details of his face. 

Maybe most of the time, actually.

Steven doesn’t notice the stumble in your body language, too swept up taking the painting in for what feels like the hundredth time but really, his mind can’t stop replaying how ‘sex’ had rolled off of your tongue so beautifully, and now how Marc won’t stop fucking pestering him about growing some balls and manning up tonight.

His watch beeps and pulls you both from your respective trances while Marc sends him a hard glare through the reflection of the watchface. “Oh, bollocks.” Steven sighs out, jaw clenching as anxiety takes over the tranquility of his features. 

You turn to him with knitted eyebrows. “Problem?”

“Yeah, think we’ve got to run.” He frowns, gesturing for you to follow him to the front of the exhibit. “Donna’s gonna have my head tomorrow for bringing you ‘round again, love.”

“S’not like I’m breaking and entering.” You playfully smirk at him as you clutch your bag, jutting one foot in front of the other as he hastily takes you through the employee exit and resets the alarm on the door. “And if I did want to rob this place, I would’ve done it by now. No offense.”

“None taken.” He breathes out through a winded laugh, fiddling with the zipper at the bottom of his collared jacket. He treads carefully beside you in the alleyway. “Mind you, as long as you leave the gift shop out of it, yeah?”

The streetlamps cast shadows over your face, but he finds himself gazing at you even through all the darkness.

A lingering stare. An appreciative smile. A mirroring in how you both tilt your heads to the side ever so slightly. But Steven sees the second hand embarrassment on Marc’s face transcend into the golden swirls of puddles on the cobblestone, his eyes screwed shut as a pained scoff leaves him.

Could’ve kissed her right now, Steven. 

Your toothy grin is all in one airy and lighthearted. Despite Marc’s unmistakable jabs, he’s proud of at least one thing: 

Making you smile.

“Of course, silly.”

No one really expects a friendship between an art student and a gift shop-ist from the National Gallery to work in a manner that is so effortless, so easy, as if it were like clockwork.

Except, the hour hand and the minute hand will never line up. 

Because you’re semi-convinced that Steven doesn’t harbor any sort of attraction towards you, nothing more than feelings of friendliness and a dash of awkwardness. But then there’s that other part of you, the part that notices the stolen glances, how he looks at you all doe-eyed and regardful even when you have nothing to say, how he remembers your breakfast order every single day despite having trouble with his own, how your number is the only other emergency contact in his phone besides his mom who hasn’t called him back once. Hell, you’ve even been friends long enough to earn an alligator emoji beside your name. What a rarity.

Just friends. That’s all it could and should be. 

Steven thinks you’d never date a bloke like him. Marc is sold on the idea that you have feelings for Steven, in which the tension, he states, is painfully and terribly obvious. It’s difficult to watch, even from that other dimension. And Khonshu, well, that guy just thinks that the three of you are all bloody idiots. 

You try to push down the odd fluttering of your stomach when Steven opens the door to your car for you. He always does. You’re used to the chivalry, the old-fashioned kindness, but something about how he’s doing it tonight — hand hovering over the small of your back, then over your head as you dip into the driver’s seat while he watches you intently, wrinkles smoothing over his tan skin and eyes softening.

You look up at him before he shuts your door. “Tea at mine?” 

“Only if I get to make it this time.”

You scoff in offense, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as he comes around to the passenger side then buckles himself in. “What was wrong last time?”

“Honestly, Y/N?”

“Yes, honestly!” You slightly turn up the radio, raising your brows at Steven as he immediately changes the station.

He sputters through a chuckle before he can even finish his sentence. “Tasted absolutely rubbish, I tell you!”

“Piss off!”

Abruptly, you both laugh heartily at that, shoulders bouncing as Steven recalls the memory of how awful it not only felt in his mouth, but how awful the brew looked in general. He finds himself unable to tear his eyes away from your face. Unable to stop replaying your sweet giggle that he drew out of you over and over again, and how his name falls from you like a bubbly chant as you reach over the console and slap his arm. Unable to stop his fingers from twitching against his thigh because he just wants nothing but to reach out and tuck that annoying wisp of hair behind your ear and tell you how much you truly mean to him.

The moonlight looks pretty on you.

Steven likes the comfort of your flat more than his own. There’s something remarkable about seeing a bed without ankle restraints and chains, or having sand stuck to the soles of his feet as he pads around the kitchen for once. Just you, him, an ugly red sofa, and the mess of unfinished canvases on your floor. Your lips twitch when he reaches around to help you get something off of the top shelf in your cupboard, his large palm gently pressing against your upper back when he pulls away to hand you a porcelain cup. 

You pour from the teapot. Steven adds an acceptable amount of milk. One long sip. Sigh of relief. Another sip. Then, smile at each other behind your delicate cups.

Like clockwork.

His kind voice feels warmer than the tea in your hands. “I enjoyed today.” Steven admits, leaning back against the counter and crossing his ankles as he speaks into his cup. 

You study the sincere tenderness in his dark irises. “I did too.” For a moment, the silence is nice. It’s comforting. You’re a safe haven, even as he fidgets nervously, drumming his fingers against the cool surface as you reluctantly look away from each other. Yet the longer you linger in the quiet, the louder the thoughts in your mind get. Your pinched voice comes out rushed and unsure. “Are you still seeing that therapist?” Steven tilts his head, unable to recognize your tone. 

“Seeing her? What do you mean?”

“Like, um, the sessions and stuff.” You chuckle softly, waving a dismissive hand at that with widening eyes. “Not in — in that way. I mean, are you?”

Why is she asking?

“Oh, goodness. No. Absolutely not.” Steven‘s dark eyebrows shoot upwards. His hold on the porcelain teacup tightens, knuckles tensing. “Why’s that?” 

You blink rapidly. “Just wondering.”

“We weren’t compatible. Professionally.” He sends you a close-lipped smile. It’s demure, and for some reason, nostalgic. “She had this — this big, caged bird in the room with us. Like a bloody parrot or something.” Then, he shrugs, eyes darting across the room with what seems to be an amused smirk as if you’re supposed to understand this implied sort of inside joke. “Wasn’t very soothing. Probably gonna find someone else in the time being, you know, hopefully with a… nicer therapy animal. Preferably one that doesn’t repeat everything that I say.” You nod slowly, taking another sip while he clears his throat. “And you? How’s your project coming along, dear?”

You snort. “Haven’t even drawn a single thing.” Your shoulders deflate as you sigh dramatically. “Due in a week, not a single idea in mind, canvas still as empty as ever.”

“You’d think it would be easy to find a model. Plenty of nudists in London.”

“Yeah, well, none of them want to be painted.”

“Then they must be intimidated.”

A tiny clink fills the air when you set the cup of tea onto the table behind you, arms crossing over your chest as you tuck your hands by your hips. The flat feels chilly beneath the illumination of the kitchen lamp. Steven feels too far away. But at the same time, he’s here. Here, in the tiny room, by the stove, dark circles beneath his lower lashes like he hasn’t slept in years, muscles straining against his jacket.

“And why would they be intimidated?”

If Khonshu could swallow him whole, this would be the perfect time for it. If Marc wanted to take the body, he’d let him. But the alters stay out of it, and for once, Steven longs for their interference. He can’t escape the way you stare at him, innocently chewing on your bottom lip as you await his response patiently. You don’t prod, just let time pass. Steven doesn’t know which is worse. The fridge rumbles. The shower next door shuts off. The cars outside whizz by. The moon peeks out from the blinds. There’s a wailing siren in the distance, but nothing is louder than the heartbeat drumming against your chest as Steven swipes a wet thumb over his mouth and gazes out the cracked window above your sink.

“Because — well, you’re a talented painter. You’re good, good at what you do and you — you’re intentional.” He locks eyes with you in the midst of his ramblings. “You’re purposeful in how you study people, how you look at them, memorizing every flaw and every detail between. You capture beauty, um, that — that I can’t even see and I don’t know how…” He lets out a nervous laugh, jaw clenching under the weight of gritted teeth. “I don’t know how anyone can just sit there and watch you paint without melting on the spot.”

Keep going.

“Steven…”

“You intimidate because you’re beautiful. And beauty makes people nervous, Y/N.” He clasps a hand over his heart, not because the words strike him deeply, but to stop himself from reaching out to touch you.

You collect your weight from the table, using your heel to slowly push yourself towards Steven and stand in front of him. You curiously toe at his white sock with your own, avoiding his gaze as you uncross your arms from your chest and entangle them behind your back with a frown.

“Do I intimidate you?”

Khonshu isn’t even in the kitchen anymore, and Marc is speechless. He can’t even watch.

At first, Steven’s voice comes out as small. And had you not been watching the parting of his lips, it easily could’ve been mistaken as the wind knocking against the walls. “Yes.” 

“Is it because you think I’m pretty?”

“I think you’re more than that.”

“Honestly, I don’t think I am.”

Steven chuckles, shaking his head. His pupils are heavily dilated, darker than normal. “Trust me, you are.”

“Prove it.” You pick a stray thread off of his shirt, goosebumps erupting across his soft skin as your cold fingertips leave him. His eyes follow the motion before they flicker back to your face. “Sit on that sofa and let me paint you.” Steven can’t pinpoint the emotions behind your words. Close to playful. Far from joking. He doesn’t know if you’re being serious, but you’re grasping at paintbrushes with a glowing smile and quickly tying an apron around your waist that leaves him blushing shamelessly. 

“You do not want to paint me.” He awkwardly huffs out, raising his hands at you before you’re pouting at him. “Y/N, it would just be a waste of canvas.”

“And why would I not wanna paint you?” 

You pull your hair up into a ponytail, ignoring how Steven’s gaze trails up your exposed arms and the curve of your shoulders. You inhale deeply, and just from the way your throat flexes in the shadows, Steven suddenly brings himself to sit on the mass of pillows atop of the velvet couch. He watches you drag an easel out from your closet, placing it right by the footrest and the swiveling stool across from him. There’s a cart filled with discarded jars of scotch, tubes of different paint mediums and a wooden palette marked with an array of clashing colors beside you, an attest to the acrylic staining the Persian rug beneath your feet.

“Because I’m just me. Just Steven.”

Your eyes pop out from over the canvas.

“Well, I think ‘just Steven’ is perfect.” 

He winces, lines creasing together on his forehead. “So what do I do now? Just — just pose, or…” He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, teeth making indents on his bottom lip. “Do I smile? What do — what do your models usually do?”

“Well, most of the time, they’re usually half-naked and tend to be as still as a statue.”

“Oh.”

You peer back at him again, gaze full of sincerity and concern as he self-consciously situates his position on the couch. “But you don’t need to follow the naked part. Just the latter, okay?” 

“Alrighty then.”

He can feel the warmth of your smile radiating even from six feet away. “Relax your jaw. Don’t look so scared, the more natural the better.”

His pupils dart around the room, taking in your flat as if it’s the first time he’s been here. He can’t look at you. He can’t. Not when you’re concentrating on him like that, scouring the details of his features, the lines and moles that mark his face, the exhaustion, surveying the slump of his spine like that was meant to be beautiful to you.

Would you capture all his flaws and blemishes then turn them into compliments?

“I told you I’m intimidated.” Steven quips, squaring his shoulders when he sees your paintbrush take the first glide across the blank canvas. 

“And I told you that there’s nothing to be intimidated about.”

“You know, I quite hate it when you get down on yourself like that.” He glares at you with a heavy shrug. Even when he’s clearly upset at you, Steven has a certain calmness to him. 

He’s the striking resemblance of lightning without the explosiveness of thunder. 

You don’t say anything, just swirl a mixture of colors onto the battered palette as you return back to the painting. He can see your tongue prodding against the inside of your cheek, rumination coating your mind in the same manner that hues of beige, black and pink coat his portrait. Steven lets the silence talk. He lets you bask in the quiescence for the sake of your art, for the sake of peace and his embarrassing desire to get this over with. But at the same time, he doesn’t want this to end.

Sure, he hates the fleeting eye contact. But come tomorrow, you won’t be staring at him like this — won’t smile at him with such tenderness and intention, won’t let your gaze wander for longer than a best friend would. Come tomorrow, you’ll have breakfast together while an ABBA record echoes from the living room, then you’re driving him to work with morning road rage and leaving for a nine a.m. lecture as if domesticity didn’t have an effect on you like it did on Steven. 

There, you won’t study him like he’s the most interesting creature on the planet. But come tomorrow, he’ll continue to read you like you’re the rarest text of Egyptian lore. 

“You intimidate me too, you know.” 

Could you hear the cogs in his brain? Was this an answer to all of his speculations? Curiously, Steven turns his feet towards you. His ears perk up, full brows raising at your unanticipated statement. “What?” 

“Yeah.” You sigh out tiredly. 

“Now why would I do that?”

This time, your face is completely blocked by the easel. You make it purposeful so he can’t discern your expression, even as the brush moves in slow and heavy strokes against the canvas. 

“I suppose for the same reason you find me intimidating.“

The sound of wet paint dabs onto the surface and drowns out your shallow breaths in the midst of Steven’s surprise.

“You find me… pretty?”

The scoff at the end of his question makes you cringe. Maybe you’ve said too much. Maybe you’ve stepped a line, or maybe he thinks this is all too odd. 

Your lips flutter upwards solemnly as you repeat his exact words from earlier. 

“I think you’re more than that.”

His heart could absolutely burst from his chest right now. He’s helplessly pinching at the bridge of his nose, unsure where to put his hands and why his hair suddenly feels so flat against his head. The couch beneath him is stiff, uncomfortable against his arse as he realizes that he’s been sitting in the same spot for too long. And now, Khonshu is simply leaning over your shoulder to look at the easel, thrumming with critique and amusement as the God towers over your hunched frame on the stool.

“Damn it.” Steven groans, placing a fist over his chest as he fidgets erratically. His eyes narrow, lips pursing together as he tries to blink back the chaos in his mind and fights off the urge to hand the reins to Marc. “God, I think I’m having a panic attack right now.”

“What?” You immediately place your brush down, peeking around the side of the canvas as Steven tries to even out his breathing. The stool nearly clatters to the floor when you stand and take long strides to his aid with wide eyes. “Do you need some air? I can — I can open a window, or — water? Water would be good?” He nods feverishly, tearing his gaze away from you and directing it to the stained carpet. You rush over to the sink, flicking on the tap and clumsily filling up a mug that Steven had given you from the gift shop. “Okay. Here, here.”

The dinosaur pun on the front isn’t so funny anymore when water sloshes over the rim as you hand it to him. He takes loud gulps as you cup your hand below his chin and catch the excess from the corners of his mouth.

“Thank you.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to — are you okay? What happened back there?”

You called me pretty, he wants to say. You don’t think I’m awful-looking, he wants to say. You think that I’m worth a second glance and worth all those lingering stares that I thought were parts of my imagination, he wants to say.

But instead, he saves those remarks for another time, and settles on one that seems fitting for the moment.

“I got intimidated.”

And you laugh. It’s brief and small, yet large enough to mend the brokenness of Steven’s haywiring brain when you set his mug down on the footrest and look down at him from where he sits awkwardly on your couch. The overhead light creates an unconventional halo behind your crown of hair, your shadow embracing the sunken essence of Steven’s face as he quietly admires you.

You send him a lopsided smile, dimples creating crescent moons around your lips and the bulb of your nose as anxious fingers twitch at your sides. “I’m no Venus.”

“Goddess or planet?”

He draws another chuckle out of you.

“Goddess, I think.”

“Well, Y/N, gods and goddesses are fairly overrated anyways.”

You bite your lip. “And if I’m a planet, then what does that make you?”

Steven lets his stare drop from your face, curls dropping against the shine of his forehead as he dusts away the lint on his pants. You study his distracted form, leg brushing against his bent knees as your stance hovers over him. He sighs shakily at the sensation, but then your fingers shift to wrap around the roughened hands that are interlocked together in his lap, thumbs hesitantly ghosting over his knuckles with a shyness he’s never seen on you. 

The notion causes him to ever-so-slightly lift his head. Those big, brown eyes meet yours in the humming of your living room, and the hand that’s wrapped around his own slowly travels up to the underside of his jaw. You can feel his muscles move beneath your gentle touch when his warm cheek leans into your palm, staining his skin with paint. 

“Must make me the idiot who sits in the observatory all day, all night, watching in awe through a telescope.” He closes his eyes when your fingers trace his skin, shifting higher and higher until you languidly card your nails through his dark curls. His head tilts back submissively with the soft action, nose pointing up at you as bliss falls upon his features. “Sounds a bit creepy now that I say it out loud.”

“You know people say that Venus is hellish, right?”

His eyelids flutter open, long lashes tickling you. “You’re pretty hellish to me.”

“I’m offended.”

“Don’t be.” He whispers, resting his hand against your outer thigh. 

Both of your heads follow the motion, as if his body had betrayed what he was trying so hard not to do — touch you, feel your heat against his, let his touch wander where his mind shouldn’t. But he can’t rewind time, and he certainly can’t stop how his palm stretches over your upper leg until it rests upon your hip. 

“Steven…” You stroke his cheek with amorous yearning, smudging the space underneath his eye with a shade of pastel pink. 

“Don’t — don’t say my name like that, love. Please, don’t.” Air escapes from his nostrils, his words fall from his lips in a longing tone laced with subtle desperation. But nothing is subtle anymore. Not with how he looks up at you like you’re the brightest star in the universe, staring at you like how you stare at famous masterpieces in a museum or even the works of art that never get noticed, but when they are, everything just makes sense. “You say it like…”

Now this all makes sense.

“Say it like what?”

“As if it’s more than my — more than just a bloody name.” Steven’s eyebrows furrow deeply, yet somehow he looks softer. 

“More than just Steven with a V?” He laughs at that, a deep rumble that vibrates through his belly and throat as his eyes never leave yours. “Hey, I like saying your name.”

Your fingers against his bottom lip bring him back to this painless reality, and the tension isn’t so unbearable when you stain his sun-kissed skin blue in the dull light above the sofa.

“No… not that.” Both of your hands cup his cheeks, ears tucked into the spaces between your curling digits as you caress his chin with your thumbs. Your pupils lull him into hypnosis, and he finds himself unable to stop gazing at the constellations in your irises. “You say it as if you like me.”

Fucking hell, Steven.

His hands tighten around your hips, anchoring you. 

“I do like you.”

“No, like — like more…”

“More than a friend?” 

“Yeah.” His blinks grow rapidly while his face contorts into something of shock and perplexity, teeth on display as he shoots you a panicked look. “Do you?”

“Do I? Steven, I’ve…” An exhausted chuckle racks through you. 

A pathetic noise of protest bubbles out of him when your palms leave his jaw. The cold isn’t so welcoming, and neither is the rest of your flat when you turn your back on him to tousle your hair with pent-up frustration. Meanwhile, Khonshu lingers in the hallways and curiously sorts through your vintage records. Marc wants nothing to do with this and resorts to plugging his ears.

Steven, here and now, is alone — alone with you and a giant, undeniable problem with the word ‘FEELINGS’ stamped right on top of it. He’s been decent about how to deal with emotions. He knows where his heart is, what makes his brain light up and what grows butterflies in his stomach. And even when you pace the room in worrisome, dizzying circles, all of the above outweighs the anxiety that shelters his bones.

“Y/N, dear, will you please sit down?” You don’t listen. He allows you two more laps around the couch and footrest until he beckons to you again. “Y/N.” Another two, then Steven himself is trailing behind your haste steps. “Y/N, what is the matter with you?” He takes the liberty of grabbing your wrist, pulling you back before you can escape once again. He squeezes your arm. Once, twice, till he understands that you’re fully listening. “Stop it, you.”

Normally, he’s the one running. But something about the way you look at him makes him want to stay, something about how your lips part and how you roll your bottom lip between your teeth then let it bounce back to its natural position makes him all hazy-eyed and helpless when your own eyes flicker to his mouth. You don’t know where to look, yet you strive to take in every single detail of him because you’ve never stood this close to one another.

You’re breathless, while his chest rises and falls steadily. You’re stepping on Steven’s toes, but he doesn’t mind. The hand around your wrist travels up your elbow, keeping you anchored when his other one does the same to your opposite arm. “Stop.” He whispers, warm breath fanning over your face as he shakes his head at you. 

“You stop.” Your eyes gravitate to his mouth again, plump lips pouting with temptation as you subconsciously take a step closer towards each other. 

Does he want this as much as you do? 

His knuckles run along your cheek and your droopy eyelids grow heavy at the tender feeling.  Steven’s fingers find that annoying wisp of hair from earlier, and he takes it upon himself to tuck it behind your ear. You try to stifle a moan when his nails card along your scalp, mirroring your gesture from before. But a whimper eases its way out of you, followed by a shaky sigh when your voice denounces you. His movement stills for a moment, but then both of his hands are cupping your face and his forehead is pressing against yours in a manner that is so indescribably intimate, you can’t even believe it’s real.

“You’re so pretty.”

There’s that desperate whisper again. 

Your mouth reaches for his. You can feel him holding you by the back of your neck, lips unmoving and lacking confidence against yours. It’s a short kiss, nothing too heated, but when you try to pull away through mumbling apologies, he can’t help but grab you by the chin and bring you back to him for seconds. 

You gasp into his mouth, the button of his nose resting against your cheek when you regain your self-control and hold onto his shoulders for leverage. “I’m sorry.” You blurt out.

“No, no,” He kisses you again, pupils wide and hands grasping at your belly when realization washes over. “Forgive me, I don’t — I didn’t mean to—“

“You didn’t mean to kiss me?” You smirk. The teasing grin is immediately wiped off of your features when Steven pulls you closer and tighter, almost as if you’d slip away from him anytime soon. “Are you going to do it again?”

“I think I want to, unless you don’t want me to, Y/N.”

“Of course I want you to. I want you, Steven.”

He chuckles in disbelief. “You do?”

“Well, I kissed you back, didn’t I?”

He gets lost in your eyes for the millionth time tonight. His accent draws out thick and frustrated when he finds the courage to pull your lips back onto his. 

“Oh, fuck it.” 

You moan instantly when his fingers undo your ponytail and tangle through your hair, flawed palms grabbing at each other’s clothing like you hadn’t felt the touch of someone else in ages — like you hadn’t felt Steven touch you in a fashion that is so sexual, so passionate and needy as if he’s been needing you all his life.

You kiss down his jaw, reveling in the soft sighing that he casts against your ear when you near his throat. He pinches himself when your mouth latches onto that sweet spot by his shoulder. It’s real. You’re real, with your hot tongue against his neck, with your chapstick molding him into shea butter and beeswax, with your paint-stained fingers dancing across the hem of his jacket like a tease. It’s real when his arms wrap around your frame, and your back immediately arches in response to his embrace while he ponders the skin beneath your shirt. 

“You can touch me.” You whisper against his mouth with swollen lips and nudging noses. He sighs at the consensual phrase, coffee-colored eyes never once leaving the comfort of yours. “S’okay, Steven.” 

“Are — are you sure?” 

“I am.”

The couch creaks beneath him when he reaches over and gingerly holds you by the jaw, thumbing at your earlobe with hopeless adoration. It feels like two teenagers kissing each other for the first time. Awkward tangled limbs. Noses accidentally bumping and twitchy eyelashes poking at sensitive flesh. But it feels so natural, especially when your body reacts to Steven’s affections as if it has always known him.

He kisses you. A lot. 

And he kisses you some more until you’re practically sliding off the couch and resorting to becoming labyrinths of desperation on your rug.

Your shirt rides up as Steven drags a large palm over your ribs, tracing the bone beneath your titillating skin. His head rests on your stomach, lips pecking the area around your belly button and down your hip bone until you’re eager for his mouth again. “You’re unreal, Y/N.” He groans in pleasure when you tug on his hair, smiling when you roll on top of him and straddle his lap. “Two years of my life I’ve spent pining after you.”

You giggle, “Try three. I win, yeah?” 

“Oh, so now it’s a competition?” 

“I’m just saying maybe you’ve been Venus all along.”

He smirks playfully, shrugging from where he lays on the floor. “I think we both know I prefer ancient Egypt over ancient Rome.”

“Planet.” You breathe out, fighting off the urge to close your eyes when his hands finally make contact with your lower back. “The planet, not the goddess.” 

Steven’s arm extends upwards, pushing your hair away from your face when you look down at him with a dreamy gaze. 

“Goddamnit, you’re so pretty.” You sigh in content at the praise. “My Venus.” 

The pet name nearly makes you melt.

No artist in the world could replicate the masterpiece of your skin against his. No artist could etch every detail of you and depict it in a manner so accurate or perfect — every mole, scar, freckle and fold as if you were carved from Venus’ hip at birth. No painting could hold the same beauty of Steven nervously taking your shirt off, unable to capture the quiet chuckles when your head gets caught in the fabric. Venus’ figure can’t compare to Steven’s tawny chest, faint abs rippling under your nails and lips as you kiss your way up to his pecs. 

Surrounded by pools of each other’s clothes, your burning bodies lay beside one another as sensual messes on the floor, rutting against each other gently and needily as Steven hikes your leg over his hip. You grind your mound against his crotch, gasping into his mouth when he holds you there.

“You’re so fucking sexy.” He remarks, gripping onto your waist before he suddenly looks to you for guidance. “I-I really… fuck, I really do want you.”

His touch is featherweight, flightless but not even close to fleeting when he takes the time to voyage the muscled wings of your back. 

“In what way?”

He exhales shakily, wetting his lips. “All of them.” You tuck your head under his chin after pressing a brief kiss to his temple. His voice rumbles against your body. The richness of his accent drops to a deeper octave when you reply in a high-pitched moan, hips grinding onto his front when his fingers find the waistband of your underwear. “Teach me how to take care of you, love.” 

“Touch me. Just touch me like you won’t ever stop.” Steven studies the desperation in your glassy eyes and nods softly, stroking his finger on either side of your cheek. Yet, past the swirls of loving lust in his expression, you recognize that something’s bothering him. “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah,” He says almost too quickly. “Yeah, I am. Are you? I just, um…” He laughs sheepishly, stroking the side of your head. “I’ve never done this before.”

“You haven’t?”

“I never… got to that point, really, with anyone.”

“Well, if it makes you feel better,” You shift closer to him, resting your forehead against his as you look at him through your lashes, “I’ve never had someone inside me.” And Steven moans. Loud, deep, desperate. You would’ve clenched your thighs together had Steven not hoisted your leg higher over his hip. “I’ve done stuff, but… never been fucked. Never been…” You sigh blissfully when his fingers trace the curve of your buttock. “… properly filled up by anyone.”

“You’re going to k-kill me, love.” He glances down at your clothed core, fingers begging to reach for you.

“I’m sorry, I know. I know.” You kiss him, earning a needy groan from the man. “Go on then, touch me, baby.”

“Tell me if I’m doing it wrong. Tell me if it’s not what you want.” 

Agonizingly slow, his digits dip down the waistband of your panties, cotton rubbing against the back of his hand as he curls his fingertips towards your cunt. The gentle notion makes you gasp once more, especially when he spreads your folds apart to expose the hood of your clit. His middle finger circles leisurely over the sensitive nub with feathery touches.

“Steven,  fuck… yeah, that’s it.”

His voice hitches in his throat as he gauges your reaction. “Oh, love, you’re — oh, you’re just dripping, aren’t you?” You guide his hand further, the pads of his fingers dragging your slick against your wet entrance. “Y/N, you gorgeous, gorgeous thing.”

“Feels good.” You scratch at his shoulders shamelessly, rocking on the heel of his hand for more friction. Your eagerness spurs Steven further and so he increases the pressure, skimming his fingers over your folds and pressing ever-so-tantalizingly near your hole before he returns back to your clit. “Tease.”

“I don’t even know what I’m doing and you’re calling me a tease?” He smirks proudly, repeating the gesture until he’s drawing a moan out of you each time. The outline of his dick protrudes against his boxers, and only then does he realize how hard he is for you. “It’s good, yeah?”

You’ve never seen him so smug.

Yet you like it, and you can’t fucking help but want more of it.

“Shit, yeah. Yeah, it’s — it’s… oh, Steven.”

Your sentence is interrupted midway when he pushes his finger inside you, slow and deep enough to rip a whine right out of your throat from the stretching sensation. He inhales loudly, eyes fixating on your mouth when you hopelessly sigh against his neck. You shift your knee higher up his leg, giving him more access to finger you. He hums at your facial expressions, mirroring them when you suckle dark marks just beneath his jaw.

It brings an innocent smile to his face thinking how he’ll have to show up to work tomorrow with remnants of you all over him. 

Steven mouths at your shoulder, leaving glistening patches of saliva in the wake of his fumbling kisses. You rock against the heel of his palm, mewling as he drags his fingers against your walls and he muffles his own pleasure against your skin.

“You’re so perfect.” He groans, fucking his digits in and out of you. The noises that leave your cunt and his throat are sinful, but nothing beats the image of you resting your head on his arm, his hand cupping your mound while he fingers you on the floor impatiently. “Fuck, Y/N. You’re making quite the mess, aren’t you, dovey? God, your moans are so fucking sweet to listen to.”

“Steven, your fingers...” You watch his wrist snap against you, juices squelching around him. You nearly sob from the intensity. “You get me so wet.”

“That’s good, Y/N. That’s good. I love pleasing you, you know that.” You clamp down onto the crook of his neck, teeth stifling your wrecked moans as he curls his middle and ring finger against that spongy spot inside you. His touch is generous, obviously eager to satisfy you, and accompanied by his weathered hands, you can feel your orgasm approaching soon. “Can I tell you something?”

Your voice comes out broken, mind fuzzy as your cunt tightens around him. “What?”

“Those… those two years, I…” He moans in tandem with you when you nibble at his bottom lip. “I, fuck, it wasn’t just pining, Y/N.”

“I have n-no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I think I — I think I’m in love with you. And not just because I’m…“ He laughs. “… inside you right now, but I think I’ve been in love with you from the moment you spoke to me and — and fuck, being able to hold you like this only confirms it.”

And just like that, you come undone all over his thick fingers.

“Oh, fuck! S-Steven!”

You cry out into his chest, bite marks tattering his skin as you hold him tight and gracelessly grind against him until you lose control over your climax. Your body shivers from your orgasm, gradually and slowly, which usually never happens from anyone else’s hands other than your own. Steven’s confession hangs heavily in the air even as he coaxes you through your high, fingers scissoring carefully in and out of you. 

Soft praises leave him in whispers, and he shares his affection for you with gentle pecks to your temples. 

A couple minutes pass by until you’re able to catch your breath, or at least, compose yourself.

“Was I imagining that or did you just say you love me?” You look up at him with big eyes, voice hushed and fearful as he wipes the sweat away from your brow with his thumb. 

He gulps, lashes fluttering dreamily when you cup his cheek with a shaky hand. “S’real.”

“Tell me again.”

“I love you.”

“More than best friends?”

Steven adores the childish glimmer of curiosity in your innocent gaze. He chuckles quietly, nodding. “Best friends included and more.”

“I love you, best friends and more.” You rub your nose against his before your stare drifts to his swollen lips. “But the next time you confess shit like that, don’t do it when you’re fingering me.”

He flashes you a weak smile. “Alrighty, miss.”

Although, Steven is unprepared for when you untangle yourself from his arms and settle between his thighs, nails raking over his muscled calves and mouth grazing over the bulging front of his boxers.

Your next words simultaneously fill and take the air from his lungs.

“Do it when you have your cock inside me.”

Marc nearly takes control of the body himself at that exact moment, and Steven immediately thinks he’s going to pass out when you tug his boxers down his hips to free his aching prick. His reddened tip is already leaking with pre-cum, thighs jolting beneath your slow and open-mouthed kisses to his skin. 

“You really are hellish.” He whines when you wrap your middle and ring finger along the middle of his cock, lips suctioning around the base. A long moan drawls from his throat as he rests his head back against the rug, eyes screwing shut when you run your warm tongue along a prominent vein. 

“Am not.” You chuckle, pressing a chaste kiss to the head.

He stifles a groan, forearm coming up to cover his eyes as you take just the tip of him into your mouth. “Oh, my god, Y/N. F-Fuck, yes.” You hum in amusement, the back of your throat sending the vibrations right to his cock. “That’s good. Really fucking good. Oh, fuck.”

You grin widely, but remain careful not to use any teeth on him. “You’re very needy, you know that? But, oh, you’re just doing so well for me, aren’t you?”

The mocking tone of your phrases make him squirm. He’s gripping onto a fistful of the Persian rug, wrinkling it with scarred knuckles. 

“Please.”

“Please?” 

“More. Touch me more.” He shakes his head at you, chin pressing against his chest as he stares down at you with a defeated expression. “Please, love.”

You’d be lying if you say that the way he looks at you doesn’t make you wet. You’re practically a puddle of desire, and Steven is melting jelly in your hands when your head quickly bobs down his thick length. 

He’s sputtering out a string of swear words, cursing more than you’ve ever heard him in your years of friendship. You can tell he’s trying his best not to cum prematurely, not that you’d care anyways, but with how his soft stomach ripples and flexes with each deliberate swirl of your textured tongue, you know he’s struggling.

And just when you’re about to give him that moment of release, you feel Steven pulling you back by the hair. Disappointment flashes over his features briefly when your mouth leaves him, but the boyish longing on his face quickly shifts into attentiveness when he catches a glimpse of the confused glint in your eyes. 

“Everything alright?” Your hands find his face once more. It becomes so natural in this new, sudden dynamic together — touching him, feeling him against you like you’ve always wanted. “Was it too much?”

“No, no, it was amazing.” He assures you, fingers pushing back the matted hair on your cheeks. “You’re amazing. I just don’t — I don’t wanna finish and leave you unsatisfied.”

“You could never leave me unsatisfied, silly.” You bite your lip feverishly, thumb stroking his chin for comfort.

He smiles. The tension of the conversation seems far from innocent now, especially when a near-indiscernible side of Steven appears as the words leave him confidently:

“I want to be your first, though. The first man inside you.”

“Steven…” 

“Only if you want, Y/N. Whatever you say goes, no matter what.” His hands grab yours, sweat sticking to each other’s skin. “It would be nice to have you be my first. And me as yours. I mean, it sounds so juvenile to want no one except you, but it’s the truth.” He lazily kisses across your knuckles, paving his way around the tendons with his lips. “I want to have sex with you, and I want to remember it.”

“Is he here right now?” Steven freezes and his jaw goes slack at the question. He can tell you’re nothing but concerned once your eyebrows knit together deeply. “Is Marc here?”

It’s the first time you’ve asked about Marc Spector without Steven bringing him up on his own account.

“Why? Did you want — do you want him instead?” 

“No! No, I don’t. Not for this.” You smile with brief panic, tracing the bridge of Steven’s nose to put his worries to rest. His frown gradually fades with the soothing motion. “I just want to make sure it’s you. Everything we do here, I want it to be with you.” You ruffle his hair teasingly once he sits up. “No offense to Marc, by the way.”

Steven chuckles, “I’ll give him your regards.” 

“Well, he has yet to talk to me.” You shrug casually, grabbing onto his biceps as he pulls you onto his lap. 

“He’s just shy.” He grins against your lips. His palm travels up the swell of your breast until he’s softly kneading the ball of flesh and rolling your nipple between his fingers.

Your breathing quickens, eyes fixating on his hardened erection. “Shyer than you?”  

“Oh, incredibly.” Steven jokes, shaking his head. 

He can just imagine Marc’s downturned expression of disbelief. 

“Tell him…” You nip at his earlobe, moaning against his cheek. “… that I’m already spoken for.”

“Are you now?” He’s abrupty cut off by his own gasp when your arm reaches behind and you wrap a fist around his dick, pumping him slowly in your firm grasp. “Rude. I was talking.”

“Were you? I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you.”

She thinks she’s so funny, doesn’t she?

“Stop a-apologizing and…” He hisses when you twist your hand, grazing the pad of your finger over his slit. “F-Fuck, Y/N.”

“There we go…” You grind against his tip, pre-cum smearing across your folds. “What do you want?”

“Want you to use me, darling. However you’d like.”

“So eager for me, Steven.” You breathe into his mouth, noses nudging against each other as you line his cock up with your entrance. “You haven’t even fucked me and yet you’re practically begging for more.”

“God, you talk so filthy for someone with such a gorgeous face, yeah?”

“I guess I truly am hellish.” 

And yet nothing about this feels like hell. 

Especially once you sink down onto his length, the heavy tip of his cock ready to stretch you out. It’s only slightly painful — a brief sting, the awkward shifting of bones so that Steven can sit back and have your thighs on either side of him, the echoing of your quiet whimpers beneath the soft light as you take every inch of him into your core. Your slick spreads onto his thighs and balls, wetness coating his digit as he instantly reaches for your clit like its become second nature.

“You — you’re really tight.” He groans, looking down at where your cunt swallows him whole. 

You laugh wryly, whimpering when his hips subconsciously rut into you. “And you’re really big.” 

Steven tilts his head back and looks up at you with a hazy smile, raising your chin with his thumb and pointer finger. For a split second, you think it’s Marc — the darkness in his eyes, the sudden dominance dripping from his tone, but it’s a big mistake on your part to second-guess him once he finally thrusts into you.

“Say it again, love.” 

It’s completely Steven — his wandering hands, grasping and grabbing at flesh, grounding you, feeling every crevice and fold of your body like it’s a sanctuary that he’s been dying to enter.

“You’re so big.” Your mouth gapes, eyes widening when you submit to his touch and let him take you. “Oh, fuck. Steven, please.”

“Yeah?” He grunts gruffly into your neck, teeth marking the virginal expanse of your throat. “You like it this way? My lovely Y/N enjoys getting fucked on the floor of her own flat?”  

“I love it.” You meet his strokes halfway, tits bouncing in his face as he leans forward on his knees and wraps your legs behind his back. “Oh, s-shit. Mmm, right there — right there feels so — so good, Steven. Fuck!” 

Steven bites down onto your shoulder when he lays you down onto the rug, cock burying itself deeper inside your cunt while he puts his weight on top of your body. His whiny moans are muffled, gasps and slaps filling the ambience of the messy living room. You’re sure that the neighbors below your studio can feel every force of Steven’s hips pounding into you — hard, slow and full. 

You scratch down his spine, red marks drawing angry lines across his tanned muscles. Juices are running down your inner thighs and cream coats his cock as he fucks you needily. While his skin is stained with paint, your skin is littered with his stinging handprints. He spreads his palms over your ass, carefully maneuvering you up and down his length as you sob into his chest.

“Oh, Y/N, you’re everything I could’ve dreamed of.” Steven pants out incoherently, nipping at your jawline. “This pretty cunt… jus’ wrapped ‘round me. I could get used to this, you know that?” 

Your throat feels raw from your mewling, the exhausted and desperate need to cum written all over your features. “You can have me anyday and anytime. I want you to…” You swallow roughly. “… fill me up, Steven. Take me whenever.” Your tone grows hushed, breathy whispers ghosting over the shell of his ear. “I wanna see how drunk you can get off of my pussy.”

“Holy f-fuck.”

You laugh together, even during the heated moment. “You love it when I talk dirty, don’t you?”

“I just love you. Anything you say, anything you do, it just absolutely riles me up.” His hand finds the nape of your neck, pulling you to him till your foreheads are touching and your naked bodies beg even harder for release. “God, dovey. You’re a perfect work of art. 

“Mmm, I-I’m close.” You gasp out, nails digging into his shoulder blades when his cock begins to hit that unforgivable spot inside you. 

Steven takes a moment to pull out of you, running himself against your folds until he dives right back in. His tip prods and prods at your walls, your wetness leaving his prick damp with each deep stroke. 

“Fuck, Y/N. S’good, I can���t — oh, hell, I can’t think anymore.” He whines, arms resting on either side of your head as he pounds into you. 

“Stevie.”

He shushes you tenderly, thumb sliding across the corners of your eyes to wipe away the brimming tears. “I know, darling. I know. I’ll get you there, promise.” His breath fans out across your lips, and you take advantage of your proximity to reel him in for another drowning kiss. 

His thrusts grow sloppy, hips losing their graceful rhythm as he continues to snap into you. He beckons your name like it’s a song on loop, while your tiny whimpers turn into loud wanton groans of lust. He pulls you back into an embrace and sits up again, hooking his arms under your knees so that they’re bent and your ass hovers over his lap. 

The position leaves you vulnerable when you hold onto his torso for dear life, fluids making a mess between your bodies.

“I love you.” You croak out, opening your eyes to gaze into Steven’s dilated pupils. “Best friends and more.”

“And I love you.” You moan in tandem, feeling yourselves near your orgasm. “My sweet, perfect Venus.”

You clench around his hard cock, cumming intensely on his length as he cries against your neck. His hands are everywhere, but all you can focus on is the way your cunt contracts around him, tugging and milking him till he discovers his own high. This time, Steven doesn’t shy away from moaning and allows himself those deserved minutes of relief as you ride out your orgasms together.

“Oh, my god.” 

Momentarily, neither you or Steven move from the rug. He keeps you on his cock, too scared to face the emptiness that’ll come once you leave him. But it seems that you share the same sentiment, sighing against his bicep as you draw circles on the back of his hand. 

He decides to break the comfortable silence.

“I do okay?” 

Steven can feel your smile form against his skin, eyes sleepy and droopy from where your head lays. “You did so good.” 

“You wanna get cleaned up?”

“Please.”

With ease, Steven helps you off of him, already missing the comfort and warmth of your core as you both shakily rise to your feet. For a split second, it’s awkward — your palms shift to cup your naked breasts, while his limbs fumble to fetch you a quilt from the couch till he realizes his own indecency.

But then you share another bubbly laugh and offer the other half of your quilt to Steven, who doesn’t hesitate to cozy up beside you and have you lead one another to the bathroom. You take him under your clothed wing, ankles bumping together clumsily as he finds the light by the sink and quietly flicks it on.

He unravels himself from the quilt first and sits by the edge of your bathtub while he waits for the water to heat up. You watch him lovingly from the doorframe, tired and hair matted, but nevertheless, Steven thinks you look ravishing.

“Come on now.” The Londoner makes grabby hands towards you, taking the blanket from your hickey-covered frame and folding it neatly by the bathroom counter. 

You sit with him in the tub — back to his chest, his back to the tile, your hands interwoven amongst the soapy suds and lavender, chamomile-scented bubbles. 

A soft sigh. A gentle kiss to the top of your head. An adoring chuckle as your lover brushes his nose against your ear and tells you stories of how the sun loved the moon.

Like clockwork.

Steven is everywhere. On your lips, the scent that wafts through your closet, your bedsheets and the Persian rug in your living room, in how you make your tea, in what mug you drink water out of, what songs you play to start your morning.

But most of all, he lingers in the unfinished painting on your easel. Jaw sharp and nose prominent, eyes youthful yet wise, lips pillowy and inviting. 

He is in the shades of brown, pastel pinks and the added hue of orange from how his marked skin glistens in candlelight.

He is your Venus.

Not the goddess, but the planet.

Either way, neither of them are able to truly equate your love for him.

[luveline]

steve harrington with a golden retriever girlfriend headcanons??

hellloooooo so. so i am not good at headcanons but i did write a little scenario because the idea is so cute love u <3 golden retriever gf x completely in love steve 0.8k

"Steve!" you exclaim, bursting into the shop with a huge smile on your face. 

You stride fast between shop patrons to where he's sorting through returned tapes. He stands up knowing what you're wanting and feels only mildly winded when you leap up into his arms, hands steadfast around his neck as he bends under your weight. 

He gives you a good squeeze, always happy to see you. 

"You're never gonna guess what I got," you say into his neck before pulling back and dropping onto your own two feet again. 

"What'd you get, doll?" 

You dig into your purse and pull out a box of Swedish fish, brandishing them like they're made from gold. "For you," you say, passing him the box offhandedly. You skirt around him to where Robin is sitting behind the counter on a stool. "And for you, my favourite Family Video employee."

You pass her a pack of twizzlers. She grins. "Thanks, Y/N." 

"You're welcome. You know, I saw, like, a huge ant hill outside, they were climbing up my socks by the time I remembered they could climb. And- Steve, what are you doing?" 

Steve rolls his eyes and guides you back, hands on your hips and lifting. You get the picture and kick off the ground, sitting on the counter with your legs swinging. 

He catches your foot in his hand and sure enough finds you've still got at least a hand's count of ants on your shoe and sock. He wrinkles his nose. "Baby." 

"I thought my socks were itchy." 

He starts pulling ants off of your sock, enamoured and exhausted with you. You quickly forget what he's doing, leaning backwards to talk to Robin with your head upside down. 

"How's it going?" 

"Slow day, slow Steve. Same as usual," she says. 

You lean a little too far and would've likely tipped off or almost when Steve grabs your thigh and holds you down. 

"Slow Steve," you giggle. 

He shakes an ant gently off of his hand and onto the floor. "Nice, babe." 

"Steve, don't, they're gonna get crushed," you say, having sat up to watch his process. 

"They're gonna bite you. Doesn't it freak you out, bugs all over you?" 

"Not really." 

Steve huffs. "Typical," he says under his breath, continuing to steal ants off of your sock. You get distracted by the radio, humming along and then quietly singing to the cheerful pop tune. 

Steve looks up at you from the ground, your carefree smile, so pretty and so charming, bubbly and beautiful. He gets distracted, watching as you karaoke the rest of the song like a lovesick fool.

When he looks down most of the ants, maybe five or six, have crawled into his arm hair. He shakes his arm hard and shivers as they fall away, jumping up onto his feet and brushing himself down, phantom ants crawling all over him. 

You beckon him forward worriedly. "You have one-" you gesture to his face. He rushes to push between your thighs, eyes closed and face inclined to yours. 

"Get it for me," he demands. 

Your hand cradles his face. You brush your thumb over his cheek. "Huh, must've been a trick of the light," you say after a moment. You squeeze his cheek. 

He opens his eyes to glare at you, finds it softening fast at your loving smile. "You're pretty," you say. 

He throws his head back, hand waving at you. "Get outta here, Y/N." 

You beam at him and jump off of the counter. Steve winces for your poor ankles though you don't flinch, straightening up your bright outfit with a flourish of the hands. 

"How do I look? Good enough to go play a game of Dig-Dug?" you ask. 

He's genuine when he says, "You look adorable." 

Robin groans and gags and Steve doesn't care, smirking to himself as he wraps his arms around you for a goodbye hug. Always strange to find himself missing your hugs so quickly. 

You rub the side of your head against his chest and he can't help the boyish rush of heat to his cheeks when you kiss his throat. 

"You smell so good. Like lavender. Are you wearing lavender? Did you switch colognes?" 

"I did," he says. "Obsession. You picked it, babe." 

"It's good." 

You sniff him loudly. He blushes worse, looking away from you for something to save his heart from giving out. He's punished by some higher power when he meets Robin's patronising gaze, though he knows she really likes you. It's his happiness she can't abhor. 

"Okay, bye Steve," you say succinctly, giving him one last squeeze and then making quick time out of the store, leaving behind only your smell and the lingering heat of your grip. 

Oh, and the Swedish fish. And a few ants. 

[p-antomime]

if you insist.

𖦹 minors don’t interact.┊wc: 3,2K.

𖦹 content: mean dom!ajax, monsterfucking, dub-con, breeding!kink, virginity loss, size!kink, cunniligus, unprotected sex, pinning, power imbalance, pet names.

𖦹 pairings: [foul legacy form]!childe x fem!reader.

ᥫ᭡. request. ┊ taglist! ┊ genshin masterlist.

"You took your time!", he exclaimed with a simplistic little side-smile as he saw you approaching as your finished trying to untie your dress that was almost all crumpled as you had to get around helping Paimon and the Traveler, "Do y’know how long I've been waiting for you?" 

"I was busy! Helping y'know who, Tartaglia," you replied and stood beside him before looking over to see where exactly you were. 

Truth be told: you didn't even remember that the path he asked you to take led to the Wanmin Restaurant because your brain had been completely absorbed for more than three hours in the miscellaneous tasks that seemed to never end coming from Paimon's hands. 

"You didn't answer my question, pretty girl," his tone was softer now and made you relax automatically as it was matched with his arm passing over your shoulders to pull you closer as your eyes looked at the menu you never got around to memorizing. 

"And I don't even need it!", you replied with a soft, velvety tone that made his heart beat so fast it felt like there was a drum in the middle of his chest. 

It was always the same, Childe even felt stupid when he stopped to think how you had his heart in the palm of your hand and didn't even realize it, but he didn't blame you for that either, because in case you didn't realize his feelings soon enough, it was okay by now for him to just have your company. Just you being happy and well was enough to make his existence less fervently hellish, especially since the very moment his water-colored eyes hovered over your graceful figure Tartaglia felt in the most heavenly field of affection that could possibly exist, even if your hair was a bit disheveled after you, Paimon and Traveler had been ambushed and chased by soldiers he had to deal with. 

Dealing differently than he used to with you whenever he had some free time. If violence followed Ajax wherever he went, you were a beautiful exception that made him have the need to drive you around like a porcelain doll about to break, that was obvious to everyone but you, every time he unwittingly brushed his fingers against your arms and immediately stroked the same spot just to make sure he hadn't squeezed too hard and hurt you. 

"What you've been doing, huh?", you asked Childe as soon as he had finished taking your order; he had already memorized what your favorite dish was, "I haven't seen you properly in weeks," he ran his tongue over lips before shrugging and looking away. 

"I'm an extremely requested guy, pretty, I already told you that, but...", his eyes glared at you before his head tilted in your direction and you didn't even flinch; Tartaglia almost rolled his eyes in irritation at your inattention and naivete, "It seems like you don't even hear me when I say something.” 

And then a pout appeared on your lips before the two of you started a heated discussion about how you were always paying attention to what he was saying, and for most of it your partner in going outs — which to him were more dates than that — was just giving you little smiles and not even paying attention to what you were saying. Childe was busy studying, analyzing and admiring your features and details without paying attention to time and he did this even after you had eaten and it was time for him to theoretically return you to Paimon, who immediately asked if he had forced you go out with him. 

The answers were varied, while you gave a shy smile and denied with the head, he pretended to be offended and wiped a tear from the corner of his eye before letting go of your hand and watching you slowly disappear in the direction where the Golden House stood. His job for the day was complete and it was just to spend a little time with you and make the most of it, even if now, after several months since the first contact between you and him, there was little left unvisited in Liyue that he could take you to for a new date. 

As always, you didn't expect to see him again so soon and the rest of the week passed in such a monotonous way that at some moments you wished Childe would magically appear on your side to keep you company during the long afternoons; as long as the current one you were using to get home alone and somewhat oblivious to the space around you since the road remained the same as always. Or you thought it was. 

A closed bag in the middle of the path caught your attention and your frown creased before you looked around. There was no one there until you looked diagonally and saw a group of people who, from their clothes, you already knew very well who were. The gray masks over their faces made it obvious what their backgrounds were. 

"Uh, who are we seeing here?! A nosey girl?", you took a few steps back as you heard one of them speak and immediately pulled out a pyro potion or two. 

"I don't— I promise I didn't see anything, sir, I just—" 

Immediately, you tried to explain yourself as your feet seemed to have a life of their own and your brain told you to run, especially since you didn't even have any treasure for them to steal. 

As soon as a "Fry!" and a Molotov was thrown in your direction, you immediately took off running without even seeing where exactly it had fallen. And obviously, other footsteps with heavy boots were following you; your brain could barely reason where you could go or head. Desperate measures bring almost no reasoning, however, the situation would get worse. 

And it got as soon as you felt the wind speed around your body change and become more intense, almost as if something was making you fly and your head turned to see what, or who, had made the aura of the place change dramatically. Now it felt like even your last neuron was telling you to flee far away. 

"What the hell—", before you could finish speaking, your mouth dropped into an "O” shocked. 

A huge creature, about ten feet tall, with claws for fingers, a cape that looked like it had bits of stars and constellations on it, a reddish-tinged mask with a small purple glowing jewel shining in the center, purple fuzz around its neck, the same red hair you knew so well you would recognize it from yards away. It had the foul legacy of carrying, breathing and finding itself in violence. And violence is exactly what it brought: in the blink of an eye you found yourself surrounded by shattered, torn, blood-spurting bodies. 

If the fear before was of dying, it had been tripled now and you tried not to stumble as you turned your back on that and the rest of the treasure looters who would still be killed by a Tartaglia who gave in to the impulses of his own rage and used the transformation most damaging to him for simply seeing the girl he loved in danger. But even under the mask, he didn't expect to see you turning your back and running away from him, the one who saved you less than a minute ago. You should be feeling flattered and safe, however, you were just feeling even more frightened that you didn't know that the worst side of Childe was that mortifying thing. 

And having to chase you through trees, bushes, grasses and big rocks while you tried not to fall and keep running made something click in his mind and mix with the little bit of resentment. Maybe it was the adrenaline rush of being chasing you as if you were in a game of predator and hunter, wolf in sheep's clothing and helpless bunny, maybe it was more horniness than that. However, regardless of what that mix of feelings was doing inside Ajax, your fear grew even more as soon as one of his claw-filled hands grabbed your dress by the hem and made you fall to the floor with the face getting a little dirt on it. 

"Plea-please, I don't—", you coughed trying to drag yourself away, but the only thing beneath your fingers was fertile, half-wet dirt, "Don't kill me, please, I didn't– nothing, did nothing wrong, plea–” 

Your legs were shaking, Childe could feel it as soon as his large hands slid from the hem of the dress to the exposed skin of our thighs and inevitably one of them went to remove his mask before his somewhat deeper than normal voice resonated and reached your ears, "You should be thankful I didn't let 'em— stop trying to fucking fight me, mortal, you barely can stand up." 

It was still your Tartaglia there, pushing your dress up and trying to gain access to your pussy, but at the same time it wasn't — you knew deep down, even at the high peak of your inattention, that your redhead would never pin you to the ground like that thing, that monster did to keep your head and face down and ass up. 

For all the seconds it took him to rip open your panties and finally get a glimpse of the place on your body he most wished he could touch and taste, you tried to struggle against his large, strong hands that continued to keep you pinned to the floor. 

You felt something brush against your sensitive clit and immediately tried to close legs that were held open by Ajax above your much smaller body than his, then the same wet, soft something slid down between your folds and reached your tight entrance. A shiver ran through your body as soon as his lips latched onto your pussy as if he was about to make out with it and eyes closed tightly thinking that this would make the situation reverse itself and that Childe would let you go. 

However, that was not an option. He had always been so patient, so loving, so kind and the only thing that it paid off for him was you being completely oblivious to his real intentions to have you at least as a girlfriend. Now was the perfect chance, even more than perfect, even if his Foul Legacy form undermined his life in an extremely dangerous way. At the moment, Tartaglia simply didn't care; if it was necessary to use his most monstrous form to get you dumbfucked, he would do it without a second thought to the consequences. 

You could feel Ajax's long tongue going from your clit to lick it to your entrance to fuck and tease you to the point of making you hide the face in your arms feeling more than humiliated that you were getting wetter and wetter as he played with your body as if you were just a doll — and, comparing physical power and height, you were indeed. 

"Tight, you're so fuckin' tight, every time I lean against you and your pussy tightens around my tongue, I can feel how fucking tight you are, are you a virgin, huh?", Tartaglia asked and stood up momentarily to see your entrance leaking more and more and you dared not answer with anything but a whimper that died as soon as his large, broad chest brushed against your back, "You are, for sure, bunny, I can smell your shyness for being a fucking virgin and liking to be tongue-fucked by a monster." 

A cocky chuckle escaped him and made you clench around nothing, you prayed he couldn't see this reaction and his face moved closer to your shoulder where his pointed fangs brushed against it as if they were threatening to cut the skin. It was the first time that your pussy seemed to tingle intensely and a knot, heat seemed to be present at the foot of your belly, was this an approaching orgasm? If it was, you wanted Tartaglia to somehow cure you of this anxiety of being about to cum and not being able to do it on your own. 

"T-Tartaglia, 'm feeling, so strange, feeling d-dizzy and—", a loud moan escaped you just as one of his knees pressed against the middle of your legs, almost making them have to spread as wide as possible to accommodate it there. 

"And?", he asked encouraging you to fall for his lewd corruption and perversion and feeling his massive cock confining still in his pants need painfully to be released soon, "And what, hm? I didn't even get your pretty tongue out of your mouth, so I'm sure you can use it to finish talking, huh?", his face moved away from your shoulder and back close to your pussy to let more kisses and licks over it, you barely noticed the way your hips tried to force themselves against his face. 

"Oh, oh, look at you, pretty tiny girl, showing yourself off for such a monster like me," he whispered still against your pussy before bringing hands to his own pants and armor to start dismantling and taking them off, making the sounds of metal and fabric tinkle and thump against the floor around you, "How bad d’you want it, hm? How bad do you wanna feel a dick stretching you out for the first time?" 

Again his pecs brushed against your back and you felt his big hands hold you by the waist and this time something softer and far less flexible than his long tongue brushed against your sensitive clit and made you flinch against the floor. 

"Tell me and I shall give it to you, tiny bunny," you nodded shyly and tried to keep the face hidden in your arms, "You don't want me to force you to say it, do you? Everything you gotta say is 'please, Ajax, fuck me hard, fuck me until I can't walk, fuck me until I can't think about anything but your dick' with your pretty voice, it's not that hard.” 

You looked down, to see what exactly was between your legs. And regretted it immediately, there was not a remote chance that Tartaglia could get it into your too-small pussy. 

It was big, large, massive, had even solid veins around it throbbing and leaked a lot of pre-cum; and you silently wondered how much cum he could pour inside you, right into your womb, only to soon after move the head to the side and the other trying not to convince yourself that you didn't want to have him deep inside you, kissing your cervix. 

"Y'know you want it, bunny," his voice whispered close to your ear and you felt his long tongue playing with your earlobe, "You just need to say it 'n it's enough, say it." 

The tip of his big fat dick placed itself exactly against your tiny entrance, you gasped and your fingers dug into the dirt beneath your body, your sense of ethics seemed to disappear as soon as Tartaglia kissed and licked your neck. 

"P-Please, Ajax," your voice came out breathless and almost inaudible and a sly smile appeared on his lips, his cock leaking even more and his self-control beginning to slip from his hands, "Fuck me hard, fuck me 't-till I can't walk, fuck me 'till I can't think about anything but– ngh! " 

Tartaglia couldn't wait for you to finish speaking, his dick slammed deep inside your pussy until the tip was kissing your cervix and the pain of seeming to be impaled took over you with eyes watering and teeth biting hard on your lips almost to the point of bleeding. 

"F-Fuck, this–fuck!", his head fell back as he felt your walls squeezing him massively, trying to push him out and his big hands possessively placed themselves on your waist, "So fuckin' tight, I barely c-can— ngh move," he grunted and looked down between your legs where your pussy was trying to get used to his huge girth. 

"A-Ajax, 's hurt-hurting," you gasped with small tears falling and wetting the dirt and Ajax leaned over your back again, keeping you still, and whispering, "It's goin' to be so good in a few seconds, you're gonna feel so good," his deep voice made you clench even tighter around his shaft. 

And indeed, the monster deep inside you wasn't lying, as slowly his hips began to rock against yours and made you have the pain being replaced by a simmering pleasure that soon again had you on the verge of cumming with your clit throbbing even more as his cum-filled balls slapped against it. 

Seeing you try to move body against his, Tartaglia immediately understood that he could move and it took less than five seconds for him to start thrusting hard, always with your body under his keeping you pinned between him and the ground to make sure that his girl got every last drop of cum. 

While still thrusting, he slid one hand down your crotch to reach your lower belly and press on it just for the pleasure of knowing how deep his massive cock reached, "Feeling it, bunny? Feeling how deep 'm fucking you silly?" 

The only things that came out of your lips were moans and whimpers and your eyes teared up again, this time not from pain, but from urgency to cum; urgency that was filled as soon as Ajax rubbed against your most sweet spot in one long thrust. 

Your vision blurred and body trembled beneath his, it seemed that even your consciousness wavered and returned to normal as spasms ran through your every muscle and drool dripped down the chin; all while Childe still was pinning you with his whole size and height.

This was all just one more incentive for the monster above you to keep fucking you through your orgasm until the overstimulation snapped you out of the bliss and brought you back to a sense of what was happening; now it seemed your walls could feel him even deeper, so deep that the moment his cock released all of his thick sticky cum you were absolutely sure he'd thrown it all right into your womb. 

If there was anything human left in Childe up to that point, even as he fucked you like a beast almost seriously bruising your hips, there was none of that left when he forced your torso down, making you lie completely flat against the ground, and pulled your hips all the way back until your ass was fully encased in his groin. 

"Such a fucking good cocksleeve," he whispered pulling away and slowly pulling out to see his white cream leaking out of your tiny little entrance for how much he had cum, and anyone else would realize how overwhelmed you were, but seeing you shuddering completely made Ajax swallow hard and feel all the blood in his body focus on his cock again, "Uh, what's that, bunny? Did I hear you right? You saying 'Ajax, I want more, make me pass out from cumming! Please!'? Oh, I did, right?", his tip spread the cum over your folds before thrusting back inside your small pussy, "If you insist, who 'm I to deny it to you, hm?" 

ㅤ🏷 tagging: @myarlert @medusalovessnakes @imsatansqueen @lordbugs @zorosbozo @goldenmnr @semisgroupie @qudvxnkanx @kuroaka @sleepy3 @scholarlogy @ushijimasthiccthighs @kumikocchi @crackheadwithtoes @hannas16 @misss-chrisss @rosso-seta @sxnriodollx @ren-simp @ranswhxre @bunnozi @corosetadpole @alureasoley @wakasa-wifey @momoewn @jadeisthirsting @joxuke @sftbunnyy @tojidilfs @scandescent @festive .

[poohbea]

𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄.

eren yeager | smut, slight fluff, angst if you squint | aristocrat!au

wordcount: 5.8k

content: upper class shenanigans, softdom!eren, fem!reader, oral (receiving), penetration (missionary and doggy), rough sex, pet names (princess, beautiful, etc.), crying, dick drunk reader, daddy kink, eren is a liiiittle pushy and an asshole (just a tiny bit), both of them holding a very weird hatred for each other (idk how else to describe it), unprotected sex (use protection kids)

― synopsis: being the heir of the biggest company in paradis holds it's challenges but no one prepared you for eren yeager

note from pooh: this turned out to be longer than expected lmao, writing smut after a long time is so hard omg i never know what the hell to say, hopefully it's not that obvious. i'm not too happy with it but i'm so over re-writing it at this point hahaha.

WARNING: this is smut, so please ensure you have your age visible on your account before interacting. Minors (below 18+), ageless and blank blogs will be BLOCKED

Hope you enjoy ♡ reblogs are greatly appreciated

“Oh don’t look so glum,” your mother chastised, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Enjoy yourself my love.” Her diamond earrings glistened in the warm candle light cascading from the chandeliers of the grand ballroom. She was an angelic vision in her lilac dusted gown, the same diamonds as the ones in her ears speckled through the fine fabric like dew on flower petals.

You sighed, sipping from your recently refilled glass of white wine. “Easier said than done.” Your gaze moved with the dancing crowd below you, dots of assorted colours and jewellery, black, white, green, pink. You hadn’t seen him yet.

She chuckled at your seriousness. “Do you really think hiding yourself away up in the balcony is going to solve your problems?”

Yes. “What else am I supposed to do?” You sent her a questioning side glance.

“Oh I don’t know… go down there? Dance? Mingle? God forbid you have fun.” She positions herself at your side against the bannister, dress brushing against your own.

Silently you leaned your head on her shoulder, a scent of vanilla and roses floating from her skin. “Is he here?” You whispered as you played with the delicate lace on your sleeves.

“He is.” She replied solemnly, resting her head on top of yours.

Your heart sank as her words solidified your anxiety. Of course he was here, how could he not be?

The man in question was one Eren Yeager, son of Lord Grisha and Lady Carla of Maria. A man who had been a thorn in your side since you were children. Lord Grisha generated his wealth from his medical practices littered across the country, this was valuable to your family, valuable enough to do business with.

Your parents thought it a good idea for you and Eren to become acquainted, being about the same age, maybe something would blossom. Though the only thing that did blossom was the growing hatred between you both. You somehow were always getting on each other’s nerves, so much so that you began to despise him. It started with small childish things, hair pulling, petty fights over trivial topics like who got to have the last of everything, but when you hit adolescence he made it a point to make a snarky comment no matter what you were doing.

“What the hell happened to your face?” He’d scowled at you one afternoon while you lay idly in the grass reading a book. It just so happened to be the same day your mother decided you were old enough to start wearing makeup.

You threw him an irritated look. “It’s makeup.”

“Your mother let you leave the house looking like that?” His shadow covers your face as he leans over you curiously, running a finger along your cheek.

“Piss off Eren!” He laughs as you throw your book at his face, easily dodging the hardback.

It was even worse as you came of age to actually date. He somehow managed to wriggle his way in and meddle with all your potential suitors, spreading rumours, interrupting dances and private conversations. There was a time everyone believed you’d slept with all of your father’s business partners, of course it wasn’t true but that didn’t stop your parents from losing their minds over the allegations. Your reputation was an important one, it was make or break in this dog-eat-dog world you were born into. You never really did find out who or where that rumor came from, but you had a funny feeling Eren had something to do with it.

“Maybe he’ll behave himself now that he’s in public.” Your mother continued.

“Fine I’ll go, but if he says anything out of turn...” You looked to her, finding no trace of disapproval, just her soft features watching the sway of dresses below.

“You’ll be fine.” She shifts to stand upright again before kissing your temple. “What’s the worst that could happen?” She smiles, disappearing through the curtain draped over the entryway of the balcony.

Sighing, you down the last of your wine and readjust the bust of your dress, smoothing over the lace that hung off your shoulders, dress twinkling in the light like stars at dusk. With a deep breath you found your way to the staircase that led onto the ballroom floor, hesitating at the top as you watched a parade of colour flutter by. You had yet to see Yeager, you reassured yourself. And hopefully you’d go the whole night without the misfortune of running into him. As you began your descent your mother’s words echoed through your mind one last time.

What was the worst that could happen?

Foreign and familiar faces welcomed you with curtseys and bows of reverence while you walked through the crowd, head held high and a bright smile on your face, greeting your family’s many business partners.

Being the heir to one of the largest companies in all of Paradis held a lot of responsibility, the primary one, being the picturesque daughter your father sought you out to be. Proper, intelligent and scandal-free. Something that was already hard to do in a sea of people who fed off of gossip.

“Lady y/n.” A kindly voice pulled you from your thoughts. “Could I interest you in a dance?” Jean Kirstein - the newest addition to your fathers growing list of associates- greeted you coyly with a hand outstretched in invitation.

You gave a half-smile “Of course.”

He was a handsome man to say the least, with tousled blond hair and a smile that had butterflies churning in your stomach. His suit was a classic black and white three piece, a teal tie bringing a pop of colour that complimented his alluring hazel eyes.

With one hand in yours and the other securely on your waist, he whisked you out onto the dance floor, taking the lead as he began moving you in time with the music. His gentle gaze never left yours as you floated across the floor effortlessly, touch warm against your hips that he guided in a rhythm that met his own.

“You’re quite good at this aren’t you?” Your playful expression made him chuckle.

“Of course my lady,” he replied, spinning you before continuing. “I had to make a good first impression didn’t I?”

The tempo rose with the changing routine and it was time to switch partners. He laid a soft kiss on your hand before releasing you in another spin, a laugh bubbling in your chest as you landed in the arms of your next partner.

“Good to see you’re enjoying yourself my lady,” your smile faltered as you looked up to see the face of the man you’d so desperately tried to avoid all night. “Don’t look so upset, frowning was never a good look on you?” A smirk hung on his lips as he towered over your smaller frame, loose hairs framing his face as he pinned you with mischievous eyes.

“What are you doing here, Eren?” You spat, feeling your skin tingle where his touch slowly made its way down the small of your back.

A huff left his chest. “I was sent an invitation? Why were you hoping I wouldn’t come?”

“Yes,” you retort. “I was hoping for a night of peace.”

He extended an arm and spun you in place, then roughly pulled you back into his chest. “You and I both know that’s never going to happen.” There was a knowing undertone in his voice, a tone that you knew always held bad intentions.

“Why must you always ruin my night?” You carped, trying your best to maintain your composure. There were too many important people around for you to make a scene and not face the consequences, but the longer he spoke the closer he was to pushing you there.

He dipped you low and your gaze caught Jean’s, who smiled at you softly while dancing with a woman in red. How you yearned to be back in his arms again.

“So you and Kirstein? What’s that about?” Eren nodded to the man in question as he brought you back up again. Your breath nearly left you with how close his lips were to your own, too distracted by that fact you didn’t even register his question.

“What?” Your brows furrowed at him as you took a step back to put some distance between you.

He met you with an icy expression. “Are you and Jean...an item?” He pressed, voice faltering at the end as if it pained him to even say those words. Why did he care?

“No, he’s an associate of my father’s, why does it matter?” You answered honestly, unconsciously moving your hand from his shoulder to his chest, running your index finger over the key shaped pin on his jacket collar.

“You seem awfully fond of someone who cleans horse shit for a living.” You catch him glance over his shoulder to where you could only assume Jean stood, not missing the irritation in his voice.

“He does not,” your hand smacks his chest. “He runs the biggest transport company in the country, horses are just one of his divisions.”

Eren rolls his eyes at your defensiveness. “Oh so you do like him. I didn’t know you enjoyed the smell of horse shi-”

The song comes to an end and you break away from him before you do something you’d regret. You opened your mouth and closed it again, fists balling at your side as everything you ever wanted to say became stuck in your throat. For all the belittling, the mocking and the embarrassment, you wanted to let him have it, but something held you back. Your tongue was stiff as he watched you with an inscrutable expression, waiting for you to break.

Instead your face softens, an equally unreadable expression etched upon your features. “Thank you for the dance Eren, good evening.” You said simply, giving a final curtsey before turning your back to him, you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction.

With a hastened pace you pushed your way through the sea of guests, odd looks cast your way as you haphazardly bumped into a server holding champagne, making you lose your balance. The glasses clattered to the floor with a loud shatter, most of it spilling on your dress in the commotion as you landed on your hands and knees in the liquid. The crowd around you gasped and sneered, encircling your distressed figure on the floor, apologetic and frantically searching for an exit. You saw Eren among them, a taunting glint in his eyes, as if he enjoyed seeing you like this. Beneath him.

You were mortified.

“Y/n! Are you alright?” Jean’s voice broke your fixed gaze. The man knelt down to help you up, but to his surprise you tore your hand from his, offered him a pained smile and curtsied half-heartedly.

“Excuse me.” You choked before speeding up the staircase, uncaring of the array of murmurs and snickers that followed your abrupt and dramatic exit.

This was his fault, Eren fucking Yeager. You cursed as your feet blistered in the tall heels you’d been wearing the whole night, reduced to hobbling down the long hallway, body sticky and damp from alcohol. This was the worst that could happen, you thought. As if being ridiculed wasn’t enough he had to go and add insult to injury with his stupid fucking face mocking you from the crowd.

Was this his plan? To rile you up so much that you’d slip up in front of everyone that was important to you? To your family?

“Fucking Yeager!” You growl, stepping into your room and slamming the door shut behind you. You began pulling pins from your hair tossing them onto your vanity in frustration, strands falling over your shoulders as you kicked off your shoes in the process. You were done with this evening, with everyone and everything associated with it.

As you finally tore the last pin from your now disheveled curls you heard a knock at your door. “I’m not accepting guests at this time!” You called out, frustrated with the ties on your dress. There was silence, then another knock. “Go away!” A string of curses fall from your lips as your fingers continue to slip against the silky fabric. “This couldn’t possibly get any worse.” You sigh. Then you heard your door open. “I said go away-!”

The source of your fury stood leant against the door frame, an arrogant aura emanating from his figure as he watched you struggle to undress. “How unladylike-”

The shoes you had discarded on the floor found their way into your hands and you aimed for his head, disappointed when he narrowly dodges the object. “Get out!” You glowered at him, other shoe in hand ready to throw.

He gave you an incredulous look, smoothing the loose strands on his forehead displaced due to evading your attack. “Are you insane?!” He shouts, picking up the shoe you’d just tossed at his face.

You threw the other shoe, this time at his groin, to which again he narrowly dodged. “Have you not had enough of making a fool of me today? You had to come up here to see your work first hand?” You’d given up on your calm façade, letting your emotions spill as you saw fit in the privacy of your room.

“You’re blaming me for that disaster?” He brayed, both of your shoes now in his palms.

“Of course this is your fault!” You spat callously. “The constant degrading, the fucking agony you put me through every event. You love to humiliate me every chance you get! And for what? Your own twisted sense of humour?” Your chest heaved as you found yourself mere inches from him, breast almost against his in your fit of rage, defeated tears spilling down your flushed cheeks.

You hated to cry, especially in front of Eren but at this point you couldn’t think of anything else to do. The pained attempt to stop the tears from falling ended in hundred more flooding out, you couldn’t bottle it all up anymore, not this time.

Silence filled the room, save your shallow shaky breaths and his deep ones. His face was once again unreadable, eyes scouring yours, for what, you didn’t know. Abandoning your shoes on the floor, his hand brushed a stray lock of hair that curled at your collarbone, grazing the skin there as his now softened gaze lowered to your lips, then back to your watery-eyed glare. The touch set goosebumps upon your skin as he continued up your neck to your jaw, wiping a thumb over your tear stained cheek.

“Let me make it better.” He breathed onto your lips, pleading eyes piercing into yours. His thumb traced your bottom lip tenderly, time slowing as his own met yours. He walked you backward further into your bedroom by your hips, closing the door behind him with an audible sound that reverberated off the hinges. His hand shifted to caress the back of your neck, pulling you into him further to deepen the kiss, moulding against your lips as he used his other hand to loosen the knot in the ties of your dress.

When the back of your knees hit your bed you parted, out of breath and thinking a bit clearly. “Eren,” you sighed, forehead against his as your breathing fell in time with one another. “Please, we-” He places a kiss on your cheek, turning you around to have better access to the back of your dress.

“Shh.” He whispers. His fingers pry the ties free and from their loops and he watches your body visibly relax, finally released from the confines of the material. Softly he pulls the fabric from your arms and down your waist till it became a pool of colour on the carpeted floor. His jacket and tie join it as he flicked the first few buttons of his shirt open to expose the tanned expanse of his chest.

You felt oddly vulnerable in your underwear, even if this wasn’t the first time he’d seen you this way, his gaze still painted a flush upon your skin. Instinctually your arms came up to cover your bare chest, breasts almost spilling from between them.

He chuckles, neck lowering to plant a kiss on your shoulder as he smooths a hand over your stomach. “I’ve seen you like this plenty of times but you still hide from me.”

His fingers played with the waistband of your panties mindlessly, lips continuing their way up your shoulder. The heat of his touch has your mind going fuzzy, losing yourself in the way his hands trailed over your skin, familiar with every mark, every crevasse, every curve your body had to offer. Your lips part in a gasp as he bites into the soft flesh of your neck, sucking a dark bruise into the skin. “I’ll never get tired of seeing you like this.”

He turns you back around to face him, pushing you onto the mattress softly. His hips nestle between your thighs as his body envelops yours, pressing his hard-on against your clothed pussy.

“Eren.” With a sigh your hips squirm beneath his, attempting to ease the arousal rapidly pooling at your core.

“Yes, sweetheart?” You lose your voice at the way his mouth paths down your collarbone, laving marks into the depths of your skin. His hands find yours still covering your chest and pries them away, entwining your fingers to pin your hands above your head. Beneath his intense gaze the flush on your skin deepened, struggling to keep still while your heart threatened to beat out of your chest. He looked like he wanted to devour you.

“Y/n.” He whispers mindlessly against your skin. Before you could answer him a gasp caught in your throat as his tongue encircled your nipple. He released your hands to cup your tits, rolling the other bud between his thumb and forefinger. “Keep them there.”

Your back arched unconsciously, rubbing yourself against his cock — still uncomfortably strained against the zipper of his trousers — causing a deep groan to sound from his throat, the sound alone making your clit throb.

“Fuck, Eren.” Digging your nails into your palms you struggled to keep them above your head, as you whined. It was embarrassing the amount of power he had over you, the way a simple flick of his tongue birthed an impossible ache between your thighs. After doing this with him for this long you’d think it’d have worn off by now.

“That’s it beautiful, say my name.” He coos, continuing his assault down to your thighs. His fingers curl around your panties and guide them down your legs, letting it join your dress on the floor.

A breathy moan escaped you as he wastes no time drawing a long strip from your entrance to your clit, moaning at the way your arousal danced on his tongue. Pushing your thighs apart he did it again, dipping his tongue into you this time to gage your reaction.

Those sweet sounds he craved for weeks finally fell freely from your lips, like music to his ears. He drank in every gasp and every whimper as your head lulled back and your back arched, still obeying his instruction as your fingers dug into the bedsheets.

His cock twitched as you began rocking your hips into his face, matching the pace of his tongue fucking into your dripping cunt. How did he always end up here? Back in this position, on his knees, between your legs, savouring the way you tasted like it was the last time he’d ever get to experience it. How tightly did you have him wound around your finger? Pretty damn tight apparently. As much as he tried to deny it, push you away with insults, humiliation and bickering he always found himself here, worshipping your pussy.

He hated you for it.

“’Ren, please. Please, please, please, fuck.” Your thighs strained against his hold, trembling as you continued fucking his face.

Fuck, he could listen to you beg forever. “What do you want princess?” He asked in a husky tone, planting tender a kiss on your inner thigh. His eyes were glazed over, a deeper green than they were on the dancefloor. Fingertips ghosted your entrance as he waited for your reply, his breath on your clit making you clench around nothing.

“I need you... I need you inside me, please.” You panted desperately.

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath as you open your legs wider for him. “Look how wet you are.” The way your arousal dripped down your ass and onto the sheets made his mouth water, the view never got old. Reluctantly pulling away from you he finally rids himself of his clothes, sighing softly as he finally frees his cock from the confines of his pants.

The sight had your mind reeling. He reminded you of an art piece, like marble where the finest detail was carved to perfection. His skin glowed in the candle light, glistening in a thin veil of sweat with your arousal still on his lips — rosy and plush. Muscles pulsed as he reached behind his head to pull the band in his hair, freeing a cascade of long dark hair onto his back and shoulders.

He hovers over you, lips ghosting yours as he guides his cock through your folds with a hiss. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“I’d hope so.” You reply with a cheeky grin, laying a kiss on his chin.

You yelp as his hand slaps your ass harshly, the sound reverberating off the walls. There was a handprint now burning red on your ass. “What was that for?” You hiss, trying to move your hips away but find them pinned to the mattress under his weight.

He bites your neck in reply. “For being rude.”

“Oh, piss off.” He raises a warning brow as you roll your eyes.

Again he smacks your ass as punishment, this time harder in the same place. “Do that one more time, see what happens.”

The sting of your ass seemed to have clouded your judgement as you proceeded to take him up on that challenge. “Fuck yo-!”

Before you could finish your rebuttal he shoves his cock into you without warning, completely filling you to the hilt. Your hands find his shoulders instinctively, embedding crescent shaped marks into his skin. The sound you made was a mix between a gasp and a moan, both in shock and pleasure at the sudden intrusion.

“I’m sorry, what were you saying?” Eren chuckles beside your ear, smirk evident in his tone.

A shaky breath leaves your chest. “I hate you.” You grumble in reply, the words coming out breathier than intended.

He shifts to rest his forehead against yours, a shit-eating grin still on his face. “If you hate me so much…” The pause is met with a harsh thrust of his hips, sending another moan tumbling from your lips. “Then why am I the only one that’s able to have you like this?” Your breath hicks as he repeats the same action, nose brushing his as he moved.

You didn’t have a real answer, it’s not like you didn’t seek sex from other partners, you did, but none of them could compare to the man before you. There was something comforting in how he knew your body inside and out, your expressions, the way your skin flushed under his touch, every moan and stutter. You trusted him with your body as he did you with his, but in doing so it fed into an addiction, one that could only be satisfied by Eren.

“Who said you were the only one?” You teased back.

His breath hit your nose as he huffed out a laugh. “No one can make you feel the way I do. Admit it.”

It was your turn to laugh. “Don’t flatter yourself. Anyone can do what you do, you’re not special.”

“Oh really?” His cock twitches inside of you, hips moving at an agonisingly slow pace. “Like who?”

“O-others, why do you need to know?” You stutter out, unable to draw a realistic name from the top of your head.

“I’d like to know who my competition is. That is if they even exist.” Your skin tingles as his nose traces the curve on your cheek. Eren knew exactly what that stutter meant. You were a liar. But that didn’t make going along with it any less entertaining.

“Of course they exis- fuck!” Pleasure overwhelms you as he hits a familiar spot, fingers playing with your clit as he continued his strokes.

“Mmm.” He groans against your cheek. “You know how much I hate lies, y/n.” His pace doesn’t let up as he speaks, fingers and cock moving in time with one another, a sweet harmony that had you struggling to maintain your fragile composure.

“I’m not-”

Spank.

“Stop lying to me sweetheart,” he warns again, upping the pressure on your clit. “Who’s the only one that can make you feel like this?” You could barely think, let alone speak as he continued his ministrations. Your pussy was a sopping mess, so much so that the lewd sound of your wet cunt taking his cock was audible with every delicious stroke.

Your breath fanned against his neck, hot and fast between moans and whines. The longer this went on the quicker your resolve dissipated and soon you were at his mercy. “You ‘Ren, it’s you.”

“I’m sorry?” He smiles, leaning his ear to your lips. “Say it again I don’t think I heard you.”

“Fuck, you’re the only one who can make me feel like this ‘Ren.” You repeat begrudgingly between breaths.

“Good girl.” With a kiss to your cheek he leans back on his heels, letting his cock slip out of you. “Turn over for me.”

Obediently you flip over on your hands and knees, chest brushing the mattress as you position your ass in the air. You feel him move over you, watching as he retrieves two pillows at the head of the bed to place under your hips, to which you happily lay on.

His hands slip themselves into the crease where your hips met your thighs, memorising the way your back arched in this position. He proceeds to run his thumbs over the small of your back, parallel to your spine before his grip tightens slightly and he’s pushing your hips into the pillows. Slowly he eases into you, moaning at the way your pussy engulfed him eagerly, tightening as inch by inch he drew deeper.

"Holy fuck, ‘Ren!” You cry, nails clawing the sheets. It was like he was in your stomach, if that was even possible.

His tongue paths its way up your spine, leaving spaced open mouth kisses on your skin till he reaches your ear. “Does that feel good princess?”

You could only moan in response, heavy breaths wafting your hair that had fallen over your face. He wasn’t even moving but he still managed to turn your brain to mush.

With a chuckle he pecks your shoulder. “I can’t hear you.”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?” His hips shift slightly, drawing a string of whines from your throat. “I want to hear you say it.”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Mhm.” The weight of his body leaves yours as he sits back up, pausing to give your ass a squeeze. “And what if I move like this?” His hips draw back slowly before pushing back into you with a force that almost knocked the breath out of you. “That feel good too, baby?”

“Yes, fuck it feels so good, daddy.”

That was all the confirmation he needed to let go and fuck you into the bed the way he knew you loved. Hard and rough. Using your back as leverage he pressed into your skin, grip tight around your waist as he watched your ass ripple with every slap of his hips against your own.

You were so damn intoxicating it wasn’t even a joke anymore. There were days he’d actually miss this, miss you. Your face, your scent, your taste, how your pussy felt as it squeezed him at every inch, it was like you were made for him and vice versa. He’d never actually tell you any of that though.

This wasn’t love. It was sex, reoccurring mind blowing sex. Or so he continued to tell himself.

“Fuck, yes, yes, yes, yes!” By the way your toes curled he knew he was hitting that sweet spot along your walls. Satisfaction swelled in his chest at your cock drunk form scrunching the sheets between your fingers, losing your voice in the pleasure surging through your body.

“That’s it sweetheart.” Cooing, he slows his pace to pin your hands behind your back, trapping your wrists in one hand and using the other to play with your clit. “You love this dick don’t you?”

Mindlessly you reply. “Yes daddy, so deep in my pussy.” At this point you would say anything, do anything if he asked you to. With the way his dick kissed that spot inside you over and over it was hard not to lose yourself, to let your eyes roll back and just take it.

“You feel so good princess, fuck you take me so well.” He looks down to where your bodies met, almost cumming at the sight of you creaming all over his cock. Your nails were digging into the back of his hand that still pinned your hands to the small of your back, grip tightening as your thighs tensed.

“I’m gonna cum, I-I’m gonna cum.” You whine with a hick.

“Cum for me, sweetheart. Cum all over this dick.” He wasn’t going to be able to hold back much longer as you grew tighter with each passing stroke, but he needed you to cum first, he needed to watch you come undone on his cock.

“Eren!” You hold onto his hand for dear life as you fall over the edge, your whole body tightening as Eren fucks you through your orgasm, fingers still softly caressing your clit.

“Good girl, that’s it.” He praises, out of breath, soon following with his own high. White hot ropes of cum painted your insides as a variation of your name fell from his lips in an incoherent mess. Normally he’d never be caught dead cumming inside if it was any one else but because it was you he bent that rule.

You groan softly as your body grew heavy, sinking into the soft mattress. Almost ready to pass out then and there you feel Eren shuffle behind you, moaning as his cock slides against your walls, slowly drawing from your warmth.

He falls onto his back beside you with a sigh. “Come here.”

“Mmm.” You groan, still fucked out and limp with flattened pillows under your hips probably damp with his cum as you felt it leak from your hole.

He clicks his tongue and pulls you forward effortlessly by your arm, cradling you in his side. There was a long silence as you both lay there listening to the rhythm of each others breaths, content in the comfort you had both built after months of this routine.

When all this first began you refused to even look at each other after the fact, getting dressed and leaving the room immediately. But one drunken night when you woke up to find him still there beside you, arm around your waist and pulled into his chest, you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away. It soon became normal for you to lay like this, naked and vulnerable, listening to his heart beat.

“You okay?” He questions, still looking up at the ceiling.

“Tired.” You sigh softly. Your fingers traced the grooves of his chest, circling his pectoral mindlessly.

He exhales heavily. “Feel better?”

With a chuckle you trail your finger down his abdomen. “A little.”

The look he throws you has your smile grow wider. “Only a little?” He turns on his side, resting his head on his hand. “Still lying to me.”

“Gonna have to try a little harder than that, Yeager.” Teasingly you tap his nose, laughing at the way he frowns at your simple gesture.

He caresses your face with his free hand, running a thumb over your rosy lips. “You really think I don’t know you after all these years?” The question was longing, like he was reminiscing every encounter you two ever had.

“I didn’t think you paid that much attention after all these years.” You roll your eyes playfully.

“I’m observant.”

“You’re a nuisance.” You corrected, but despite your insult the smile never left your face.

“You love me.” The rebuttal caught you off guard, unsure if he was joking or not as his tone remained serious.

“Are you drunk, Yeager? Why would I ever love you?”

His face draws toward yours knowingly. “You wouldn’t still be here if you didn’t.”

“I-I could say the same for you.” You deflect, gesturing to his figure.

Did he really want to admit his feelings for you, after having pushed them down for so long? Did he even have feelings for you? When he saw you on the dancefloor for the first time tonight his stomach erupted in a flutter of butterflies. Not to mention when he watched the way you smiled and laughed with Jean. Who the fuck was he anyway? Some corporate kiss-ass who shovelled shit for a living. Transport, what was Jean’s transport company compared to the medical empire Eren was managing? Is that what impressed you? What you liked? He followed the way Jean’s hands glided along your body, like he knew where to touch you, how to make you…

“Eren.” Your soft voice breaks him from deep thought. You look at him with those eyes you do, the ones that somehow manage to break his resolve every time.

“Let’s get you to a bath.” He smiles at you sadly, laying a kiss on your forehead and getting up from the bed. His fingers rake through dishevelled hair before offering you an outstretched hand.

You witnessed the way his green eyes dulled as they bore into yours sullenly. His expression was placid, unreadable as it always was when he decided to shut you out, an action you’d become all too familiar with as you came back to the reality of the situation.

Not wanting to question him on it you take his hand. “Lead the way.”

PART TWO

© poohbea, all rights reserved. DO NOT copy, reupload or modify my work to other accounts and platforms. if you intend to translate any of my works please ask permission first ♡

[sunboki]

CALLING SKZ “BABY” FOR THE FIRST TIME

including; bang chan, hwang hyunjin, lee felix, lee minho, jisung han , kim seungmin, yang jeongin, seo changbin

genre; fluff + slight suggestiveness + tiny bit of angst :))

BANG CHAN scanned through his phone, reviewing a testing clip captured for a specific song he’d been immersed in lately. meanwhile, you busied yourself next to him with the channels of the tv in his dorm to then disappear into the depths of the pantry, searching for snacks. “mmm baby? do you want me to make a salad?” you hummed, licking your lips as you hastily glanced at chris. upon using the unfamiliar nickname, chan stalled, looking up with surprised eyes. those eyes he once garnered small stretching quite wide for the opposing statement. “baby..?” he muttered, testing the word on his tongue. “yes baby, would a salad be okay?” you brushed off his reaction with a sly smile, knowing full well of your actions. however the moment you turned around, big, warm arms fit snug around your waist, the man breathing in your scent with a sigh of satisfaction. “don’t be saying things like that, i wasn’t prepared.” he grunted, rocking back and forth on his toes. “okay baby.” you chortled, chan staring defiantly. “c’mon seriously?”

HYUNJIN pushed the cart alongside you, curiously shoving his nose into each item as he scanned over the ingredients like a disoriented mother. “jinnie, don’t get left behind.” you called, finally grasping the man’s attention only for him to speedily scamper back to your side. the trip arriving short, waiting patiently as the cashier price checked each item. “alright, enjoy your evening.” the kind woman ushered, you beginning to sling the grocery bags along your arms with a soft beckon to hyunjin who was once again into something. “jinnie, baby, help me out with these.” and can i tell you how fast this llamas head snapped up i might just crash. absolutely dumbfounded. then proceeded to dance around quietly, then quiet, then to your aid. the entire ordeal was adorably terrifying. “i’m baby now?” he closed the car door, lifting brows at you. “you’ve always been baby.” you laughed at his hollering reply. “this is an upgrade!” he cheered, leaning in to gently kiss your lips happily. “so cute.” he cooed at your blissful afterglow. nonetheless, still hyunjin, always.

FELIX sat on the blanket sprawled on the green furnished ground the park chosen remaining deserted. sun glittering overhead with an evergreen glow. he looked breathtaking ( as per usual ) even more so in this lighting. “i’m so jealous.” he honed that concerned expression in your directions due to your words. “what is it?” felix rested his chin on his hand, focused on your face intently. god, he was so pretty. “i mean, you’re just so beautiful and nice and i feel like i’m not even close. like i’m not enough. i don’t deserve you baby.” his brows knit firstly, then flustered blinking. “hey gorgeous, don’t ever think that about yourself, let me show you. especially since i’m your baby.” your hands instinctively curling into his blonde hair, head leering back at the contact that sent you into a dizzy haze. “fe—lix—“ you dragged out, falling back onto the blanket with a sleepy giggle. “see? you’re my everything. don’t forget it.” “baby.” he added, a peck to your cheek serving as a reminder. drowning in his endless love.

MINHO took this early morning to take you to the cat shelter, a place he’d visit regularly to either drop off donations or just visit. the man easily charmed by just how adorable you were when speaking to the cats, voice heightening in pitch happily. however, with this visit in mind he wasn’t expecting to hear you call him baby. the words rolling so effortlessly off your tongue. “baby, look at this one—don’t you think soonie doongi and dori need another friend?” you insisted, hoisting the kitty gently towards him with puppy eyes ( as he liked to call them ). he knit his brows, looking from the cat to you thoughtfully. “if you call me baby again i might consider.” he added teasingly, smirk tugging at his cheeks. “yes! fine then baby, can we get this kitty?” you flushed cheerily, puffing your chest with pride. “since you said it so nicely, yes. now i’ll have four kitties in the house.” he stifled a chuckle at your frown of dismay— bugging. “i told you not to call me that.” you huffed. “but it’s true, you are my kitty.” — “in your dreams.”

HAN being han seemed the type to right off the bat begin using pet names, one of those being baby. but actually, he was nearly the opposite. worried he’d cross an unwanted line, he waited patiently for the occasion. but for you to start first? unexpected; but definitely not disappointing. back against his chest on the couch was a nice way to spend the evening, lazily scrolling on your phones with no motives whatsoever. “how does honey chicken sound?” you questioned innocently, han giving your hips a small squeeze. “honey chicken sounds soooo yummy~” he licked his lips, that familiar unconscious goof-ball of a quokka shining through always. “ahhh baby your arms are too tight—i’m gonna get bruises.” you hissed, the man immediately releasing his grasp; leaning his body to look at you in disbelief. “baby? who?” you burst into a fit of giggles, the quokka still in awe. “you silly.” you beamed, capturing his cheeks in your hands to land a soft smooch on his nose. his face turned so pink in little to no seconds. “nooo you’re my baby~~” he babied, rolling over with you on the couch to smother you in hugs. over the moon.

SEUNGMIN was nervous, extremely nervous to introduce nicknames. so of course being the traditional and kind hearted boyfriend he was he confronted you about the dilemma. “so you’re saying you want to use nicknames for each other?” you tilted your head, biting back a smile. he was just so cute, all red and fidgety as if giving a letter to his crush. it reminded you of when he’d confessed, all hushed and melty. so cute. “yes..” he mumbled, eyes darting to the floor anxiously. “that sounds fun! i’m glad you talked to me about it. which ones should we use.. there’s so many.” you gasped, excitement fitting to your nerves at just how much opportunity stood before you. “i need to think of some good ones.” you licked your lips, seated on the bed in conversation. “cutie.. honey.. baby..” meanwhile, the black haired man in front of you was dissipating into a puddle of mush. this nicknames were killing him. “what? do you like baby?” you interjected, his face hidden into his hands. “i’ll take that as a yes baby.” he groaned in response.

I.N argued proficiently, enough to where he’d win no matter what. that was, the stupid arguments you’d get in. this one, on a lovely sunday morning, consisted of shouting at what name fit jeongin. the two runner up names were either baby bread or foxINy. however, jeongin was resilient, convinced that foxINy was better. “no! baby bread is much more gentle and fun.” you crossed your arms, pouting. it took a lot of strength for the fox to not coddle you and your adorable face. “look here, baby bread is obviously superior. i mean it can be used so many different ways like ‘bread’ or ‘baby-.’” you began, facial features contorting in a sly array. “exactly, baby.” I.N stalled, eyes round as saucers. “you win.” he blurted, waddling to you in need of a hug. unable to stop his heart from beating obnoxiously. “i think i can hear your heart from here.” you whispered, he only snuggled deeper into your shirt.

CHANGBIN acted high and mighty, although you were fully aware of his caring and affectionately needy side as well. those moments revealed when you hurt yourself, cry, or late nights. generally no in between. you were both playing around in the studio, taking a short break to dance around the plush dwaekki in your hands happily. spearb dropped down on the couch aimlessly, gazing at your enamored expression with satisfaction—to him, you were the enamoring one. “this. dwaekki. is. precious.” you nearly exploded with a love struck arrow, poking through your chest stubbornly. positively swooning. “it’s my baby now.” hugging the grumpy plushie to your chest, you caught the real dwaekki’s attention. “ah, but don’t be jealous, you’re my real baby.” your eyes almost sparkling in the dimmed lighting. changbin was doomed. the things you did to him. he coughed, ears dusting rose. you noticed. “what’re you talking about.” he reprimanded, head turned to avoid your watchfulness. “shhh i told you not to be jealous.” you straddled his lap, finger upon his lips. “when was i ever jealous.” he rolled his eyes. “now you are.” wiggling your brows childishly in his direction. “of the dwaekki? seriously?” you casted him one last grin. “yes, of the dwaekki baby.”

thank you for reading <3

all rights for this work are owned by @faulix

[chrollohearttags]

something about a man being vocal and talking you through it is so..😩 like imagine being fucked and overstimulated to the point of near unconsciousness, hanging on by a thread while being doted on, given constant affirmation and being guided through how to get that final nut. Especially when he’s so gentle about it I just can’t!

| minors do not interact |

“F-fuckkk..I’m so close, baby..”

the words seeping from between your lips with baited breath and faint tone. It’s the only coherent sentence you’ve been able to utter in the past five minutes outside of high pitched cries and curse words.

but believe, you didn’t have to say anything because he already knows..from the way that tight cunt is swelling and clamping his cock, he knows you’re mere minutes away from making a mess all over it.

honestly, you were already such a pretty sight..sweat beading atop your forehead, tears running down your cheeks and your little mouth wide agape. So much so, you’re drooling.

not in a gross way but as a result of his fingers constantly being brushed across your tongue as he shoves them in and out relentlessly. Something about watching you gag on them while he’s balls deep inside of you is so sexy.

the bed is pounding the headboard underneath your connected bodies and the room is filled with sounds of your love making but none of that matters; nothing else matters except the beauty beside him.

your smooth brown leg draped across his hip as he thrusts into you relentlessly. Hitting you from the side with long, deep strokes that had you creaming and spasming all over him.

you’re far beyond overstimulated, it’s really a miracle you’re still going but as long as he was fucking you, he would decide when you got to stop.

as loving and caring as he was, he couldn’t help but to fuck you like a slut.

“I know baby, it’s alright..” whispering in your ear and leaving a trail of kisses on it as well. It’s very evident you won’t be able to last much longer so he knows exactly what has to be done.

even if it means resisting the urge to toy with you as he always does.

shifting a little more so that he could get a proper look at your face. He even clutches his palm around your throat and forces you to stare into his eyes. The only downside to this is how beautiful you look and he knows that if he makes eye contact, he’s not going to be able to stand it.

but the resolve he has to make sure you cum first outweighs his own desires. The entire time, he’s still feeding you those soft kisses and breathing all heavy. Truthfully, he was as much of a wreck as you were but he couldn’t come undone quite yet.

it’s not fair: on one hand, you feel as if you’re about to explode and can’t take another second but that dick pulsating in between your tight bundle of nerves is so good that you don’t want him to stop.

“D-daddy..I can’t—no more…” whimpering as you press a trembling hand to his abs. But you’re so cute, it does nothing but make him want to fuck you into that mattress even harder.

by now, his thrusts have slowed into an agonizing pace. You’re still clamping down on it and your pussy is throbbing from the ache of constant pounding.

bathing you in gentle kisses, those strokes continue as he soothes your cries. Legs are trembling so badly, they’ve practically become useless so he scoops them up and pins them back. He’s in complete control..doing every bit of the work to make sure you completely fall apart for him.

“You’re taking me so good, baby..why quit now?” taunting you with rhetorical statements. Meanwhile, the pace has become rough with very brunt thrusting. He’s starting to crack but you’re at your limit.

puddles of milky white arousal are pouring from your pussy and luckily, he’s feeling generous..tracing tiny circles on your clit and returning those gentle kisses to your face, he begins speaking those affirming commands into your ears.

“But since you really can’t hold back..squeeze down..and when I tell you…” you were losing your mind and any bit of restraint you may have had left..trying to hold back that orgasm.

luckily, you had no need to. Between those soft pecks and sweet words, he gave the command you had been awaiting.

“Let it go for me, pretty girl..don’t hold back..” the second you did, he held you close to his body, letting you release every drop of that pent up, sweet nectar spilled onto the sheets and his aching cock.

flailing in his arms, you’d lose all control and function of yourself for a moment, crying from the swelling pressure being let out. You’d repeatedly thank him for allowing you to orgasm and he’d only continue to tell you how much of a good girl you had been..how proud he was.

you on the other hand, unable to believe that the same man was drilling you only moments ago.

breathing heavily, you’d turn to face him and nuzzle your face into his neck, trying to come down from the high. He simply chuckles, planting soft pecks on your forehead.

“You did well..now let’s get you cleaned up.”

————————————————————————————

levi ackerman, nanami kento, gojo satoru, eren jaeger, kyojuro rengoku, daiki aomine, reiner braun, bokuto kotaro, tetsuro kuroo, daiki aomine,

[ghostselena]

Side to Side

Pairing: Jj Maybank x Reader

Summary: Jj teasing you for walking funny after a night filled with a lot more than just kissing

Warnings: mentions of private body parts, small dirty talk, hinted sexual activities, curse words, 18+ [Slightly Edited]

a/n : short little blurb here, might turn it into a second part ;) feedback is always appreciated!

--

You were extremely sore the next morning, you couldn't comprehend how a skinny tall blonde boy could have that much stamina. The third leg he carried did not help your situation either.

As you sat against the edge of the bed, the memory of it going down brought shivers down your spine as you bit your lip, already craving the sleeping Kraken that slept peacefully with Jj.

You rub your eyes tiredly, not wanting to leave the warm spot. Deciding to stand up, you slowly make your way towards the bathroom to refresh yourself. You wanted to calm down the now awoken need you awfully longed for.

A whistle coming from behind you made you stop dead in your tracks, the bed sheet no longer covering your behind, "Ain't that a sight to wake up to."

Heat rose to your cheeks as you look down, shaking your head, "How long have you been up for?"

"Long enough to watch you waddle, my little penguin," he winked, his hair pushed in every direction as his sleepy eyes dug into yours.

He'd been awake this whole time, admiring your beauty from behind and loving every curve and inch of your body. How did he get so lucky?

A pogue achieving happiness, something that dared to be near impossible to attain for someone like him. Joy wasn't on his agenda until he met you, and damn was he in love.

"I can walk perfectly normal," You huff, covering yourself at the front with the thin silk sheets— ones that barely covered your hardening buds that pressed against the material.

Adjusting himself under the sheets, he licked his lips as he looked away for a second, eyes switching back and forth between your lips and body, "Yeah? walk for me some more."

"Really?"

"Go on," he gestured with his hand, finding amusement within you this early in the morning. He sat up to watch you walk around with a limp, failing to prove your lie that brought a smile to his face.

He chuckled, earning a scowl from you—rather quickly, "Fuck you."

You tried to walk straight, failing miserably as you limped, quietly cursing to yourself for the small lie.

"If you'd let me, I can." he had made his way over to you, his hands now pressed against each side of your hips, "Only after I brush my teeth though,"

You laughed, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, "Mm, cmon then,"

Dragging him towards your shared sink, you both brushed your teeth while poking at each other, eager to have your hands on one another once again.

"Shower sex?" he asked while pulling open the shower curtains, dropping down the towel that covered his now nude body.

He had hoped you agreed, not wanting to push your body's limit too hard.

You pressed your lips against his, using one of your hands to turn the knob, the sound of the water running answering his question, "Better get to it, before I change my mind,"

He wasted to time to grab you and enter the tub with you in his arms, eager to let your warm cavern swallow his now awoken cock.

--

Taglist : (Let me know if you'd like to be added )

@gillybear17 @my-baexht-ls @phildunphyisadilf

[novthewolf]

Camilo Madrigal simping over Reader

[Requests are open]

- It was probably a rainy day. You maybe fell down a muddy hill, and you broke you ankle.

- You must had startled some animals, and they ran to Antonio for comfort and to inform the little boy.

- He was quick to tell his mother, who then asked the rest of the family for help.

- Pepa didn’t let Camilo go for you, instead they sent Luisa and Félix (not Augustin; poor guy would I fell down the hill just like you)

- He was curious, just like Mirabel, and they both tried to get informations from Antonio.

- You came into Casita, with Luisa supporting your weight.

- Then Camilo mind went to totally blank.

- You.were.adorable.

- His mouth was forming a tiny gap ; his breath stopping for moment, his cheeks slowly becoming red, and his eyes stuck to you.

- He was totally mesmerized by you.

- When you notice him, you were stunned too. Maybe because of his beautiful features, or just because he was staring so intensely.

- It only take few second of eye contact to make look away and blush madly.

- He even tried to cover his face, to hide his red cheeks.

- Luisa put you down on a chair, waiting for her mother to cook you a healing meal.

- Antonio approched you and told you that it was his toucan friend who sought his help.

- Camilo walked in too, but he was so much farther then little brother.

- He watched you, not daring to come closer. Like he was afraid that if he was too close, he would explode from his racing hearbeat.

- You saw him, but you didn’t say anything, you didn’t want him to feel embarassed.

 - He was moved of your sweetness toward his brother.

- When Julieta was done, he brought the food to you.

- Camilo he could die happy now that he felt your hand brushing against his.

- Since that day, he thought about you everyday. Not like his yandere version, but he was really in love.

- You just moved into Encanto, and you and your family were building your house. Obviously, it’s where Camilo was helping the most.

- He sees you to struggle with anything, he’ll rush to your side.

- The first time he hears your laugh, it’s the end for him. He was head over heels for you.

- Your little mimic, your voice when you talked to him, how lovely you looked when you dance, ah... he can’t but to fell in love.

- If they are any parties at the Madrigal’s he’ll be the first to greet you, with heartwarming hug.

- This hug might last a little longer then required, but screw that : he just want to hold (and smell your hair but shh)

- If it’s a birthday, a wedding, or any event that need you to have a got seat/spot, Camilo will keep you a very good one (next to him if possible UwU)

- God, he’s just a blushing mess around you, smiling uncontrollably, simping, and looking at you like you were the most precious person in the world.

[kshira]

hi my love

could I pls request reader cleaning up bonten mens wounds ?? smth about that forced proximity and sexual tension is just so good 🙏😞

𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐒!

ft. mikey, kazutora, baji, ran, rindou, sanzu

tw. fem!reader, mentions of cuts & bruises, extreme sexual tension, teasing, pretty fluffy

an. bryce is back, back again

# 𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐲

“it doesn’t hurt, manjiro?” you look at this powerful, soulless man for him to glance back through unblinking eyes with a subtle shrug of his shoulders, “is it supposed to?” mikey smirks, placing a towel over the cut on his chest while you reach for an ointment.

“you should be more careful not cocky” manjiro scoffs off your words but he considers them, maybe he gets hurt on purpose so you’ll show up to take care of him and just maybe manjiro thinks it’s fucked up to do so but at least here—right now, you’re with him.

your fingers work gently over the cut until a bandage splays across his chest, mikey looks over at the time before averting his eyes towards you, “thank you. d-do you have to go now?” mikey shyly looks at the ground before feeling a hand cup his cheek, “not until i get paid.”

“how much do i owe you then?” manjiro reaches for his wallet, flipping through the bills too preoccupied with how much he should pay you. he doesn’t even notice you leaning into his chest, nuzzling your face into his neck, “this is just enough, manjiro.”

and mikey freezes from how close you are, the way your body clings to him even though he’s the one holding you tighter, pressing you against his chest. “how many times do you need to take care of me before i can make you mine?” majiro whispers, pressing a kiss against your cheek and though you don’t reply he seems to have found the answer.

# 𝐤𝐚𝐳𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐚

bleak golden eyes watch you carefully apply ointment to a deep cut carved into his skin, kazutora bites down on his tattered lip when you begin retrieving the glass shards from another cut.

“this is the last time, tora” you warn, sitting his arm down beside his side as you move away from kazutora on the couch, he looks away from your piercing gaze, absent orbs finding another source of reason as to why he always wants you to take care of him.

“please” he whispers, reaching out to grab your hand into his, “please, don’t leave.” it feels like a stake puncturing your chest when tears swell along his eyes, kazutora engulfs you into a hug before you can respond, his longer pieces of hair spayed across your cheeks.

without another second withdrawn his lips find yours and though you never imagined this rough, vicious gang member would be so gentle—so warm to the touch as he kisses you, lips pressed tightly against yours, arms wrapped around your body as if he’s clinging to life.

“will you leave now if i say i’m in love with you and i always come to you for you to take care of me because i’ll get to see you?” kazutora whimpers against your mouth, screwing his eyes shut before tears can spill. his fingers laced with yours he squeezes tighter, “i’m here tora, i’ll always be here.” and kazutora sighs into your mouth, maybe now he’ll never have to get hurt just to see you with his confession tied between your lips.

# 𝐛𝐚𝐣𝐢

“i didn’t know you could be so rough, angel” baji grins up at you, wincing when your fingers grip his cheek harder, applying a washcloth to the cut engraved on his cheek. a scoff brushes past your lips while you hover over baji, he can’t help but look up at you through half lidded eyes, the concentration on your face was truly so beautiful.

“you need to be more careful” you scold him, finally pulling the material away from his face so you can examine what to do next, “your handsome face can’t take much more.” baji eyes widen before a playful smile curls his lips, “oh yeah? you think i’m handsome, huh?” but you don’t reply, pulling out a bandage and applying it to the skin.

“i think you’re more than that but not with all these cuts and bruises on that pretty face” you coo back at him, baji wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him. “i think you’re beautiful like this, taking care of me even though i know i’ve pissed you off.”

you look down at baji, brushing strands of black hair from his face you examine the way his eyes crinkle at you, a hidden blush forming on the apples of his cheeks. “if you keep looking at me like that, i might have to stay longer” you whisper out, leaning down to his level, “who’s stopping you?” baji closes the distance pressing a soft kiss against your lips. and you can’t help but melt to his touch, wrapping your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss and baji grunts into your mouth, “that’s what i thought, pretty.”

# 𝐫𝐚𝐧

“does it hurt?” it was more of a rhetorical question, ran was sitting on the couch, a bottle of something in his hand while a bullet wound was punctured through his shoulder, ran lazily smiles at you, “nah, i’ve had worse.”

“what’s worse than being shot in the shoulder, ran?” you deadpan to him, stealing small glances you’re able to see the sheet of sweat accumulated on ran’s chest—his stomach flinching as you press the towel harder on the open wound and though you shouldn’t it’s hard not to stare at his tattoo carved along the skin.

“when you keep turning me down, that hurts way worse” ran smiles while you roll your eyes at him. “i turn you down because look what i’m doing now? cleaning a bullet hole when i could be on a fancy date right now” you sigh out, and even though you’d deny it any day of the week—the way ran looks at you always makes your stomach burn.

especially when his hand rises to cup your cheek bringing you down to his face, the condescending way he smiles knowing you’re melting in his palm and kissing him right back even though you’re not done cleaning his wound.

straddling his waist your body hovers over him, lips crashing while ran’s tongues searches for your inner cheeks. he winces in pain as your hips roll across his lap, “finish bandaging me up and i’ll take you on that fancy date” ran groans, lifting your face from his swollen lips.

“but your wound is bad, ran” you heave breathlessly, ran takes your chin within his fingers and motions for your mouth to open, he leans you down to gently scrape his tongue across your bottom lip, “be my good girl and do what i say, yeah?”

# 𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐮

“you’re hurting me” rindou whines, whimpering out while your fingers pinch a cloth to his bloody nose. rindou was the one that came to you for help with the overflow of blood pouring from his nose and though he’s so annoying with the constant whining—you can’t help but find him so cute.

rindou pouts remembering how horrified you looked when he creeped through your door, bloody and bruised—clinging to your body as soon as he made his way to you. rindou had a habit of facing his fears head on but always seemed to run to you when he was hurt.

“i love you” rindou whispers, smiling softly while you shove two small pieces of cotton up his nose, “i love you too, rin.” and he seems to relax under your words, raising his hand up to cup your cheek, “why are you so perfect to me?”

“i’m just taking care of a bloody nose” rindou smiles at you even though the blood continues to rush down his nose, he begins drawing a circle against your cheek, “will you stay if it gets worse?” rindou questions, watching you catch his gaze fixated on your face.

instead of answering him you lean in pressing a kiss against rindou’s lips, and maybe he feels greedy deepening the kiss with more force, dropping his hands to your side as he pivots your body in his lap—rindou feels even more guilty as clothes fall to the floor and your lips never falter from one another and the bloody nose he had is the least of his worries with you finally beneath him.

# 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐳𝐮

“mh, go lower” sanzu groans, shifting his body from the couch while you place a wet cloth on his lower stomach. you snap your eyes at him but sanzu can only give you another lopsided grin. “just a little lower princess” he coos, tucking his lip between his teeth from expected pleasure or pain—he doesn’t know which one to choose.

“haru” you warn, pressing the cold material down on his gut, sanzu winces at the pain rushing through his veins. “take my mind off it” he whispers, placing your absent hand down on his crotch, sanzu flickers his eyes from your face to the subtle brush of your hands across his lap.

“you’re in a lot of pain right now, manjiro told me you could have died and you want me to do this?” you click your tongue at sanzu, ignoring the way his cheeks dust a pink hue and underneath your hand growing stiffer.

sanzu rolls his shoulders, exhaling a sharp breath while you apply more pressure to his wound, with finishing touches of a bandage placed on his stomach you rise to your feet. a small whine fumes from his lips, the grip of your wrist brings you back to sanzu.

“don’t run away from me” he makes room on the couch for you to be tucked under his arm, fingers carefully making their way into your bottoms. “i owe you a lot for always being my sweet little nurse, don’t i?” sanzu smiles against your neck, burying himself further until his lips attach to the skin—sucking and slurping as you ignore where his hands go and sanzu forgets the pain for now when you’re all his for the taking.

[shoyoist]

ﾟ+* ꔫ — 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄 : sano manjiro.

content: gn!reader. manila timeskip mikey. dom reader. hurt/comfort + unprotected sex, handjobs, dacryphilia if you squint. it's really slow and soft. implied toxic relationship. mikey pushes you away and you push back.

— . ｡˚ ♡ "manjiro," you say. "i love you." (he says nothing in return).

"manjiro," you say it as you lace your fingers in his, pull him closer even as he turns away and takes a step further from you. "i love you. i promise. i really love you."

he doesn't say anything, opting to just remain silent, and you know it's because he still doesn't believe you.

he doesn't believe you, and you shouldn't be fine with it — but you are. you're fine with it, because even if he doesn't believe it, he knows its there. feels it in the way you squeeze his hand, and tug him back so you can look him in the eyes.

it's why he doesn't let go.

he's staring at the floor, black hair framing black eyes, looking like a manifestation of death in the darkness of your bedroom — and honestly, with all the blood you know is on his hands, it's a fitting look for him.

"i love you," you say again, and then he looks up, into your eyes, and tilts his head as he leans in. the tattoo spread across his neck is starkly contrasted agaisnt his pale, pale skin, and you lift a hand to caress it as you answer his unspoken request and slot your lips against his.

his lips are icy, so cold and slightly chapped against yours — but when you close the distance between your bodies, urge him to sit on the edge of your bed, he opens his mouth; and his breath is hot, tongue feeling like fire as it collides with your own, at the same time that his hands grip your waist, dragging you down on top of him.

falling back on your sheets, he exhales heavily, hands running over your sides as if he's not sure how to hold you. you bend down, kissing him on the lips once more before you move to his jaw, pressing your lips against soft skin, trailing down his neck and collarbones.

he shivers, silent as he revels in your doting.

assured that he wants this, you settle comfortably over him, sliding one hand under his black tank top and running your palm up his stomach and his chest — while the other slips under the waistband of his pants to find his cock, and when you wrap your fingers around his length, he twitches in response, and lets out a gasp — "fuck."

he's beautiful, you think. so beautiful.

and if it were your choice, you'd keep mikey with you forever, feed him all the sorts of love he's never tasted before, love him till he's been washed clean from everything wrong he's ever done — love him till he's whole again.

but he keeps trying to stop you. "don't say that," he breathes, as the hand you've been trailing over his chest comes to lay its palm across the side of his neck, thumb gently brushing at his jaw as you kiss him again. "don't say it."

turning his face away, he breaks the kiss, and stares off to the side — you see his dark eyes glisten, lining with tears that you know he wants to blink back, but is afraid they might spill out — and you tower over him, cradling his cheek in your palm as you sigh. "manjiro."

"dont." he hisses, and then the tears spill out, a thin, pearly line that strikes down his cheek and pools at the side of your fingers, where you're holding his face. he says dont, but you know he's begging you to say it again. so you do.

"manjiro," you say. "i love you."

he squeezes his eyes shut at the sound of the words off your tongue, and more tears fall when he does it — but then he tightens his grip around your waist, pushing himself up and grinding against you, despite the fact that you've already got his cock in your fist, lazily pumping it as you talk to him. "please."

he tugs at the shorts you've got on, elastic snapping against your skin — and you kick them off when he pulls them back for you, sitting up and unzipping his pants.

"let me make you feel good, mhm?" you coo, and he nods pliantly. you couldn't ever imagine him to have killed anyone — but the truth burns bright in his colourless eyes as he looks up at you, waiting, waiting.

you love him anyway. which is what you're trying to convince him of.

wiping his face, clearing his cheeks of tear streaks with your careful thumb, you pull his cock out with your other hand — it's flushed pink, pretty in your tender grip, beads of cum curling down his head, at the behest of your toying. he gasps when you flick his tip, spreading his cum across his cock, sticky and slick. "fuck, hurry up — please."

and you think, as he fucks up into your fist and you let him, that maybe he does believe you love him.

maybe he knows it, believes it and feels all that you pour for him — but keeps denying it in hopes of having you pour more, pour yourself out for him so he can drink up your adoration and devotion for him, fill himself up with it.

the way he lays beneath you and lets you please him, lets you bring him to his high before letting go and watching his cock twitch pleadingly — it's as if he wants you to push him, push him and make him fall apart, so you can see all his pieces and all that's remaining within a man that's thrown everyone that's cared for him in the past to heaven's gate—

because he cant bear to do it to you, too, so he just wants you to take all of him in, see him for who he really is, and still love him. to still stay. "shit," he moans breathily. "n-need to feel you, please."

it's why he keeps walking away, only to turn back and fall right into your arms — it's all half-hearted attempts to make you leave. he wants to cut you off and wait for you to force your way back, so he can keep holding onto you for good — but he doesnt have it in him, to properly push you away.

he wants to reject your love and have you give it to him anyway, but is too afraid that if he rejects it, he might not have it back.

"you wanna be inside me?" you ask, and he nods shakily, eyes fluttering as he watches the way you adjust your position, part your thighs further and grab his weeping cock so you can sink down on it.

it's easy to see, from the desperation that paints his expression as he bites his lip and watches, muscles tensing with anticipation as you fit his tip in you, and slowly, slowly take him in.

"is this good?" you ask, as you move your hips up and down, starting a slow bounce on his cock — and he just nods, but it's all you need to receive in return, because if he feels good, then that's fine.

leaning down, you move in to trail more kisses across his jaw and neck, meeting his lips every time you feel a moan building in his throat, fucking him slow and deep, the heavy rolls of your hips steadily increasing in pace as you feel him leak more and more precum into you.

his eyes turn glassy, along with the curl of his muscles, and you feel the rise and fall of his chest get quicker as you move faster — and finally, as he loses himself in the bliss of having you wrapped so tight around him, hot and wet and so good, he opens his mouth. "nngh, say it again, say it again."

"say what again, baby?" you ask, even though you know, and he knows you know — grabbing you by the back of your thighs, he pulls you down on him, sheathing his cock all the way in and letting out a gasp when you clench around him, the airy sound melding with your moan at how full it feels to sit on him.

his grip tightens, nails digging into your skin as he grits his teeth and swallows back a moan, and he looks up at you with strained eyes as you resume bouncing on his cock. "say it— fuck, 'm gonna, gonna cum."

straightening up, you reach back and palm at his balls, feeling in your hand how hot and full they are, ready and begging to be emptied — smiling softly, you grip his chin and hold your gazes locked together as you repeat, "say what, baby? tell me."

you would take everything he's got inside him, kiss every piece of him that he rips up and gives you, tell him you love him a thousand times over — if it meant he would finally give in, and bask in how much you felt for him. he whines, the sound sharp and almost indignant. "say that you love me, fuck. please, please."

"'n if i do, then what?" you hum, shoving down the urge to give in to your own pleasure, the coil in your core that's slowly tightening with how you keep moving. his stomach flexes, breath going shaky, and you know he's trying to keep his orgasm back till you say it, but you want to know it first. — "will you believe me, manjiro? if i say it, will you say it back, and stay with me?"

he shakes his head, and you're not sure if he's saying no or if he's trying to clear his head from the haze that you're engulfing him in, squeezing him so tight and thrusting just right so he's seeing stars — you grip his shoulders, lean down so your lips hover over his, and it lets you sink onto his cock so much deeper than before this way, as you tell him again, firmer. "tell me, manjiro. and i'll tell you."

"t-tell me," he gasps, eyes rolling back into his head, beautiful as he lifts himself up a little to pull you into the kiss you're dangling over him. "tell me you love me."

answer enough, you decide — and open your mouth with your lips still pressed to his. "manjiro," you exhale, snapping your hips up and down around his cock. "i love you, manjiro. so much."

"mm," he moans, body curving up into you as he finally lets go — cumming into you, hot, thick ropes painting your insides as he heaves for air, wraps his arms around you and pulls you off balance into him and kisses you, fucks into you till his dick stops spurting, till it hurts and he's tearing up again, but this time because it feels so good, too good, and he still doesnt feel like it's enough.

"hah—" you cry out, as the impact of his sloppy thrusts throws you into your own high. he keeps fucking you, eyes wet and glittering at the lash line as he groans, cock aching and balls light, holding onto you so you cant roll away. "mmh, manji-ro! love you, so much, fuck!"

he doesn't say it back.

he says nothing in return, but his arms tighten around you further, and his kisses get needier, even when he finally lets you get off him — and he falls back onto the bed, body slack and drained, delirious with the overflow of bliss.

"stay, mikey," you murmur, taking his hand and squeezing. "please. i love you." he twists his body, bringing you in for a hug, as his cum leaks out of you and makes a mess between your bodies — his lips aren't cold anymore. in fact, all of him feels hot, hot and feverish with pleasure and tire.

he says nothing, still. but he holds you, holds you tight, and your eyes feel heavier and heavier as you wait for him to answer — you should be getting up and cleaning yourself up, and so should he, but you're too tired, all of a sudden.

he's wide awake, breathing deep into your hair, in the dark, on your bed with you in his arms like a gun held to his chest — wondering whether he should shoot himself or not; wondering if it's got any bullets in it at all.

will you kill him, or will he pull the trigger and find himself pierced with nothing (nothing but love)?

"i love you," you say, even as you fall asleep — and he lays there, wide awake, eyes open as he stares at your wall, feeling you cuddle into him for warmth, wondering, wondering whether you really love him or not.

wondering whether he deserves it, if you do.

"told you not to say it," he mutters, placing a gentle hand on the back of your head, even as you pull him close and he feels your heart beating against his shoulder. "don't say you love me."

because people who love him have only ever died. sometimes, not because of him. and other times, at his own hands.

[luveline]

pretty sounds | tasm!peter parker x reader

summary peter encourages you to make noise during your first time together

warnings nsfw (18+ please) shy!reader and adoring peter, fem!reader, p in v sex, idiots in love, sickly sweet sex, praise, fem!reader, she/her pronouns used for reader [word count: 3.4k] requested here

<3

Peter's thigh is warm and big where it presses into yours. He's pulled your arm into his chest, one hand holding you to him and the other running lightly down your skin, up and down and up again. His touch is soft as a downy feather and you're a melted puddle under his ministrations. 

Your face is burning hot. You're no stranger to Peter's tickling, the opposite - he does this whenever he can get his hands on you. He's the loveliest boyfriend ever. You can't tell whether he likes doing it or if he knows that you love it, but you adore him and his hands, and usually you'd be slouched into his side and drowsy by now, completely floored by his attention. 

But you're not. Peter's confused by this, you're ashamed, and your warm skin is giving you away. 

"Something on your mind?" he says, quiet, half as loud as the TV. 

"Nothing," you whisper. 

He hums, tickling coming to an end. He hugs your arms and tips his head against yours, soft brown hair brushing your cheek as he leans down and presses a chaste kiss to your bare shoulder. 

"You sure?" he asks, rubbing the tip of his nose into your skin. 

You don't like lying to him. He's never given you any reason to, and maybe loving someone means that you owe them honesty, even when the truth is scary to admit. 

"I was thinking," you begin tentatively, voice a shard of its usual volume, "about, um…" still, it's hard to say. 

Peter raises his head to watch your face patiently. 

"Do you want to take the next step with me?" you ask, staring at the beauty mark under his nose. You can't look him in the eye. 

"Are you proposing?" he asks, and at your aghast expression, "I'm sorry, baby, I'm just joking. Forgive me," he soothes, apologetic, the beginnings of excitement creeping into his voice. 

"That's so mean," you complain under your breath.

"I'm sorry," he says again. He's on the edge of laughing, wrapping his arm around you, hand in the well of your shoulder. "How can I help teasing you when you react like this?" 

He feels your cheeks with the back of his hand. "Y'burnin' up." 

"Your fault." You sink deeper into the cushions and away from his probing. He drops his hand. 

"You want to have sex?" 

"With you." 

"With me," he adds lightly. 

"I'd like to," you manage, shying away from his gaze. 

"In general or right now?" he asks. 

You look down at your chest, watching it rise and fall rapidly. "Now, if you want to." 

"Do you want to?" he asks carefully. 

"Yes," you admit, louder than you mean to, like the bursting of a dam. "Yes. I want you," you say. You don't miss how desperate you sound and neither does Peter. 

He has a look on his face that you've never seen before, and his answering exhale is erotic. He shifts so his back is pressed against the arm of the sofa, arms waiting on either side of his body. 

"Come here?" he asks. 

You bite the inside of your lip and stare at him for a few seconds, trying to calm down, trying to come to terms with what you're about to do, what he's about to do to you. You slowly climb up onto your knees and crawl to him. He grabs your thigh, his touch electric, and pulls you over his lap. 

You steady yourself on his shoulders, looking to him for permission. He nods encouragingly. You set yourself down over his lap, hands trailing down his lovely arms until you find his fingers. He's quick to twine them together, and so you straddle him, your heat overtop his pelvis and your forearms pressed together. 

You move your face towards his slowly, careful and scared. He waits, a statue. He's holding his breath. 

You hesitate with your lips and inch apart from his. They suddenly feel chapped, and your tongue darts out to wet them. 

Peter slowly steals his hands back, first to soothe your shaking arms, then your upper chest, fingers spread wide. One moves behind you to the small of your back, and you close your eyes as he pulls you forward. 

His kiss is languid, hand climbing from your chest to your face, thumb digging into the corner of your mouth as he opens you up. You're a blooming flower with him, always, lips parting.

His tongue is warm. You sigh as he probes your mouth, pushing forward ardently. His arm tightens around you in response, pulling you in, and you think for the hundredth time that Peter can read your mind. The unexpected friction pulls a sound from you that you don't mean to give, breathy and high pitched and enough to make your cheeks burn. 

Peter breaks the kiss abruptly. "That's was fucking adorable," he says, eyes wide. "You gonna make that sound again?" 

You shake your head, smiling against your will, pushing in for another kiss, and another. Maybe you mean to or you don't, but you rock your hips against his with your arms wrapped around his neck and feel the evidence of his arousal grow underneath you. 

This makes it worse, the puddle of heat in your abdomen turning to a pond, a lake, a vast ocean of wanting. Peter's arm is like steel around your waist and spiteful, dragging you up against the shape of his cock. You moan again, feel your embarrassment crest. 

You break the kiss and sit there above him panting, forehead pressed to his forehead and eyes shut, determined to never look at him again. He slides his hand up your face, reverential in his movements. So gentle it burns. 

"You wanna move to the bed? Yeah?" he asks. 

You don't expect to be carried when you agree. You gasp as he lifts you up, hands steadfast around his neck and face pressed into his jaw. Peter laughs like an idiot as he walks, hand braced behind your head. 

Your thighs are still wrapped around him as he drops you on the bed in his room, quick to realign your lips and kiss you silly, your spine pushed into the mattress beneath you. 

He starts careful, grinding his hips down into your with the slightest pressure, a natural rhythm. You push his face from yours, knowing that his actions – this core-melting friction – will have you a mewling mess, and that his kisses will steal any awful sounds you make before you can suppress them. 

He's not discouraged by your actions, instead choosing to track kisses down your neck, your throat. His face fits into the curve of your neck like it was made to, and his teeth find a spot they know well. You bury your fingers in his soft hair, lips pressed tightly together to half-smother a moan as his clothed cock presses into you again. 

He finishes up a round, bruising hickey in a rush. "Don’t do that,” he says gently. 

"What?" you ask, cupping his cheek. 

He frowns at you, characteristic sweetness in his pout. "Lemme hear you," he murmurs pleadingly. "Please? Y'sound so pretty." 

"Pete-" 

"Please, baby. If you want to make noise, you should.”

You miss his kiss and his heat, agreeing without thinking, "Okay.”

He grins salaciously. You regret your haste and attempt to backtrack, find his lips silencing yours quickly. "Thank you," he says into your mouth, kisses firm, "gonna have you making the sweetest sounds, dove. Promise." 

You tease the hem of his shirt and he pulls it off, you reach for your own and he's twice as quick, the two of you shirtless and grinning and breathing too fast. 

Quickly you find yourselves shrugging out of your pants, then your underwear. He struggles with your bra. You giggle at his ineptitude and reach up to smooth the stressed crease between his eyebrows, furthering his frustration. 

“Babe,” he huffs. 

Once he manages it he ravishes you, mouth biting and cruel. He's played with your tits before, and he knows them well. Soon, your nipples are aching and kiss-bitten, shining with his spit. 

He kisses down your ribs, your naval, takes a great big scraping mouthful of your soft tummy. 

You pull him up to your mouth again before he can do what he wants to. 

"Let me eat you out," he says. 

You shake your head with a smug smile. He whines. 

"Let me! Let me get you ready, baby, please." 

"Just wanna feel you, Pete, please," you say bravely. 

You do want him to eat you out, in a desperate, burning way that almost has you saying yes, but the idea of it is too embarrassing for now. You hope your admission will distract him, and it does, his hardness brushing up into you as his hips buck. 

"Fuck," he says. "Fuck it. Fine, but consider this an IOU." He presses a kiss to your cheek.

You wiggle underneath him as he sits back, hand reaching between you. His thumb brushes from your wet entrance to your clit and you gasp, turning your face into the pillow beneath you. 

Unhappy, Peter pinches your sensitive inner thigh. You protest, indignant. "Ow!" 

"You don’t have to hide," he says, an awe in his voice as he spreads you open with his thumb. 

He pushes into your clit. You let yourself gasp. His jovial smile is enough encouragement to do it again, and again, and again, frenzied by his tight circles and his teasing fingertips where they circle your entrance. 

"Am I okay to keep going?" he asks, pausing. 

You swallow. He looks so pretty like this: lips red from kissing, hair mussed and eyes bright. He's kneeling, an Adonis, carved muscle and hot-blooded. You follow the V of his hips and find your eyes glued to his cock where it’s head brushes the skin under his belly button, throbbing. 

"I was gonna offer to get you ready, but…" you whisper, mostly joking, rewarded by his roaring laughter. 

He pulls your hips towards him and your heart skips a beat, caught off guard, thinking he's going to fuck you, but it's just to bring you close enough to kiss, bodies wedged together as he slides his smiling mouth over yours. 

He finds your hand and brings it down to his dick, hesitating a centimetre away. You take the leap, wrapping your fingers around his shaft as lightly as you can. He hisses, then grins. 

"There, feel how hard you make me? All those pretty moans," he murmurs, looking down between your bodies where your hand explores his cock. 

"All those lovely sounds you make, baby," he says. "Want you to make 'em for me again, yeah? Can you do that?" 

He spits in his hand and replaces yours, giving his cock a few ruthless tugs. He's rock hard. Your eyes water and your insides are a mess, and you know without looking that your entrance is a dewy well. 

"You gonna do that for me, baby?" he asks when you don't answer, searching for your enthusiasm, to see if you're okay. 

You want him bad, rolling your hips, forcing his cock to brush up against your wet centre. "Yeah, Peter. Please." 

He cradles your face in one hand, giving your cheek a quick squeeze before he rises off of your chest and takes his hips into your hands. It's pornographic, you think, the position you’re in, thighs spread wide over his thighs, chests rising in tandem. You like seeing Peter Parker on his knees for you, like knowing you're splayed open, waiting to take him. 

"Ready?" he asks, rubbing the head of his cock in your slick. 

You twitch at the contact. "Yes, baby," you utter, completely enamoured by his cock. 

He starts slow. The first thrust inward more of a dip, spreading you open over his cock with every inch of care you'd expected from him. His breathing is laboured, amorous, as he works. You know he's taking his time for you, that he's desperate to push into you. You raise your hips from the bed in encouragement, centre alight. 

He smiles. He pushes in. His thrusts are slow and each one widens. You realise how stupidly happy you are when he's halfway inside you, giggling and rolling your hips down. 

"You want it, huh? Want it all?" he asks, voice similarly stained by joy. 

"Yes," you blurt out. 

"You're not very polite," he says, raising his eyebrows. 

"Please," you say urgently. "Please, Peter, I can take it." 

"I know you can.”

His hips snap forward. You half-sob, shocked at how good it feels, hands around his wrist as he pulls all the way out. You know what he's doing before he does it, snapping forward again; he's trying to get you to moan loudly, and his actions make it easy to oblige him. 

"Fuck, baby, you're so fucking tight, feel fucking amazing," he says. "Fuck, how's that, you like that?" 

You nod, panting, and he pushes your thighs away, towards your chest, shifting so he can fuck into you quicker. When he's fully sheathed inside you he hugs your thighs to his chest and rolls, the head of his cock brushing your walls emphatically. 

"Tell me." 

"I like it. I like it," your breath hiccups as he leans forward, cock driving into your sweet spot, "I like it." 

You can't believe how quickly he's unravelled. He can see the smugness on your face, you think, because he leans down and kisses it away roughly, nose crushing your nose as he fills you up. 

You whimper at his probing strokes. "You okay?" he asks quickly. 

You barely manage to nod, so excited, over excited, hooking your arm around his neck so he can't ask you anymore silly questions. 

The sound of your fucking echoes, a firm slap, damp panting, your awful moaning and his pleasure-lined exhales. He sounds close, though you're not sure, and you endeavour to draw his climax from him, squeezing your walls around his cock. 

He groans and his hips stutter, burying his face in your cheek. You cover the back of his head with your hands. 

"Can you go faster?" you ask. 

You can feel his smile and his teeth as he kisses your cheek. "Yeah, I can go faster," he says innocently. "Just- tell me if I do something you don't like?" 

"Uh-huh." 

"Full words, dove." 

"Yes, I'll tell you." 

He needles his arms under your body and holds you tight as his hips snap, fucking you fast, fast enough that your whimpers and moans and expletives slip from you without really thinking, blurring into a mess of pleading. 

"Please, Peter," you say, tears in your eyes. 

"What, baby, what do you want?" he asks, words staggered between thrusts. 

You don't want anything except for him to keep going. 

The bed springs bounce beneath you, your headboard scrapes the wall, and you've never felt so safe and close to him as you do now, hips aching with every deep thrust. 

Peter ruts into you, grinding his hips into the back of your thighs, your knees pushed into your chest. He dots a thousand tiny kisses wherever he can put them. Your legs wobble with the force of his strokes and your hips are numb, the only sensation that matters is this growing tightness in your core. 

You can feel the mess growing between you, wetness pulled out of you with each drag of Peter's cock. You hug his chest close to your chest, hands at first clinging to him for dear life and then, cock drunk and dizzy, sliding over his skin lovingly. 

"Love you," you whisper. 

He laughs and pulls his face away from your sweaty skin to look you in the eyes. His eyes are bright, brown and dark, hedged in thick lashes. He brushes the tip of his nose into yours as he thrusts, like they’re kissing. 

"That might be my favourite sound yet," he says softly. 

You groan at the corniness of it all and he slows, driving in slower, looking so deep into your eyes you worry he can see your soul. 

"I love you," he says. "Dovey, I love you so much. You're beautiful." 

"You're beautiful, too," you tell him. 

He kisses you sweetly, eyes scrunched shut, and you know he's close. You rock your hips against his and let him hear every ounce of pleasure you're feeling in your breathing. You take a shuddering inhale as he digs his cock into your walls and it send him over the edge, his own breathing sounding slightly tortured as he cums, a hot wetness blooming between you. 

He thrusts one last time, cock bleeding pearlescence and mess inside you. You tighten your arms around him and plant your own sweet kisses all over his cheek and his neck, overcome by a swelling of affection. 

You want to tell him how hot he is, how good it feels, but you can't make yourself say the words. You hope he can feel it in your palms as they stroke his back. 

He pulls away. You let your tired thighs fall to either side of him, spread, and he takes them in his big palms, massaging the flesh there. You both catch your breath, though you realise he has no real plans of stopping as his fingers find your clit. 

“Sorry, baby,” he murmurs quietly. “Didn’t mean to leave you hanging.”

You shake your head from one side to the other - you hadn’t cum, but that didn’t mean you hadn’t felt good, or hadn’t enjoyed yourself immeasurably, hadn’t felt loved beyond words. 

“Gotta take care of my girl,” he says, more to himself than you, cock still inside you. You gasp as he rolls forward, chills moving from the deepest part of you all the way to your fingertips.  

His thrusts are languid and his fingers quicker, voice warm and rough as he showers you in adoration. 

You whimper and squirm under his touch as the coil tightens, thighs trembling.

“Pretty baby, so fucking good for me, need you to cum on my cock, yeah?” Peter whispers, thrusting forward again. Buried this deep, every movement is a shooting of ditzy pleasure around him. 

His wet thumb is diligent as it circles. He leans down to kiss your thighs, your kneecap, resting his cheek against your leg as he pushes you over the edge. You gasp out his name without thinking, a warning, and feel his cock twitch inside you as you contract around him, pleasure tightening the muscles in your abdomen. 

You sob without tears, hand grabbing his wrist to stop him from dragging your orgasm on any longer. He stops with his hand pressed flat to your cunt, breath hot on your skin as he laughs. 

“There we go,” he says, pressing another kiss to your skin. 

Your chest heaves. If he doesn’t hug you in the next ten seconds you’re probably going to burst into tears, urgently pulling at his arms. He gets the memo quickly and sits up on his haunches. He’s covered in your sticky mess and you don’t care as he pulls you into his arms, your face seeking refuge into the side of his neck. He steadies you with one hand behind the small of your back and the other buried in your hair, and you sit there like love drunk idiots breathing in the other's smell. 

“You’re okay,” he says, and then quietly, “right?”

“I’m fine. I’m really fine. Just needed to be close to you,” you admit.

“Okay, okay. You’re okay” he says, nodding. 

You take a deep breath, half laughing and half gasping. “Fuck,” you say. 

“Fuck,” he agrees. “That reminds me - you have such a potty mouth when you’re getting fucked, did you know?”

“I’m an angel,” you say. 

“I never said otherwise. An angel, makes the prettiest little sounds all wet and lovely,” he pauses to laugh when you pinch his sides, angry at his teasing now that you’re in the aftermath, “and she swears like a sailor.”

His kiss is bruising at your temple. “Fuck, I’m lucky. How’d I ever get so lucky?”

You clench your thighs around his, wondering the same thing. 

<3

𝗆𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍

thanks for reading ❤️

[fezco-youphoria]

Take Care

summary: Fez takes care of you after someone spikes your drink at a party.

word count: ~1.2k

tw: smoking, drinking, drugging

pairing: Fezco x reader

It’s New Year’s Eve. You’re at a house party, chilling on the couch and smoking weed with your boyfriend Fez. You pass the joint back to him and look down at your drink. The cup is empty.

“I’m gonna get a refill. Do you want anything?” you offer.

“Nah, I’m good,” Fez shakes his head.

You get up from the couch and go to the kitchen. As you pour some vodka into your cup, you feel someone brush up against your back. You turn around and see Nate Jacobs standing beside you.

“Happy New Year, Y/N,” Nate snidely greets you.

“Fuck off, Nate,” you shrug, “I know you’re the one who tipped off the cops and got Fez’s place raided.”

“Well sometimes when you do illegal shit, bad things happen to you,” Nate coolly replies.

Nate is quiet for a moment. He looks you up and down.

“You look very pretty tonight.”

You roll your eyes, not buying his bullshit. He’s just trying to play mind games with you.

“Don’t mess with Fez again,” you warn him.

He smirks, not taking you seriously at all.

“That’s sweet that you’re fighting his battles for him. You’re such a good girlfriend. But what I don’t get is why you’re wasting all your time with someone who’s gonna be dead or in jail in a couple of years.”

You glare at Nate.

“If Fez is in jail it’s because he killed you,” you say through gritted teeth.

Nate snickers and shakes his head. He takes a small step toward you, backing you into the kitchen counter, and leans in uncomfortably close. At 6’5, Nate is looming over you. You’ve never realized how massive Nate is and how small you are in comparison until he stands up next to you like this.

“I really meant what I said. You, uh, you look really beautiful. I’ll see you later, Y/N,” Nate says smugly.

Nate slinks off. You watch him go to make sure he’s no longer in your vicinity. Once he’s out of the kitchen, you can finally exhale. Then you take a large sip of your drink and head back over to the couch.

Fez smiles when you plop down next to him.

“There you are. I was starting to miss you.”

Your boyfriend tries passing you the joint but you shake your head and take another sip from your cup.

“Nate Jacobs is here. We talked in the kitchen” you purse your lips.

Fez nods. He saw that asshole across the room earlier in the night. It’s the first time Fez has seen Nate since his place got raided. Fez has been lowkey trying to keep track of him from the couch, patiently waiting for the perfect time to get his revenge. He didn’t see Nate go into the kitchen or else he would’ve gone with you.

“He bother you?” Fez asks.

“Me? I told him to stop bothering you,” you reply. Your boyfriend raises his eyebrows.

Suddenly you start to feel very dizzy and disoriented. You drop your drink onto the ground and rest your hand on your forehead. Fez immediately takes notice.

“Yo you alright, Ma?”

Fez puts a hand on your shoulder and you fall over onto your side.

“Oh fuck,” he mutters to himself.

How could this be happening?! You were fine just a minute ago…. Then Fez notices the cup you dropped onto the floor. Shit. Someone spiked your drink.

Fez pulls his phone out of his pocket and calls Ash.

“Start the car and be ready, man.”

Fez abruptly hangs up. He wraps your arm around his shoulder and helps you stand on your feet.

“C’mon, I’m getting you out of here.”

As Fez leads you toward the door, his eyes meet Nate’s. Nate quickly looks away. Fez clenches his jaw as he puts the pieces together. Nate is the person who did this to you. He must’ve slipped something in your cup when you were talking to him in the kitchen. Nate fucked with you to get to Fez and it worked. Fez was already mad at Nate about the raid, but now he’s fucking pissed.

Your boyfriend walks you out of the house. By the time you and Fez make it to the car, Ash is already there. Fez opens the door and helps you get into the backseat.

“Stay here and watch her. I’ll be back in a minute,” Fez tells his little brother.

Ash nods his head, keeping an eye on you in the rearview mirror. Fez takes off his sweater, tosses it into the front seat and closes the car door.

You lie down across the backseat because your head won't stop spinning. You’re so out of it that you have no idea how much time has passed by the time Fez returns to the car. He gets into the backseat with you and Ash immediately starts driving away from the scene.

You rest your head on Fez’s lap and he puts his arms protectively around you. From the corner of your eye, you see red on his hands.

“Your hands….bleeding…” you mumble incoherently.

Fez looks down at his bloody knuckles.

“It’s not my blood,” he quietly replies.

You go in and out of consciousness for the rest of the drive. When you arrive at Fez’s place, he helps you out of the car.

“Can you walk?” Fez asks.

You weakly nod. He puts your arm around his shoulder and leads you inside the house. As Fez takes you down the hallway towards his room, you suddenly feel extremely nauseous.

“I’m gonna be sick…”

You try taking a step forward but you end up stumbling over to the side, hitting a wall. Fez wraps his arm around your waist and leads you into the bathroom.

“I got you,” he says softly.

You make it to the toilet just in time before you start throwing up. Fez holds your hair back. As soon as you finish, you collapse onto the bathroom floor.

“I’m… sorry…”

“This ain’t your fault, baby,” Fez sighs.

Your boyfriend picks you up off the floor and moves you to the sink. He keeps his hand on your lower back to hold you up, as he puts some toothpaste on your toothbrush.

“I can do it,” you try.

You muster up the strength to take the toothbrush from Fez’s hand and hazily brush your teeth. You’re so out of it that you’re just blindly going through the motions. Once you’re done, you drop your toothbrush on the counter and fall backwards into Fez’s arms.

“C’mon, kid, let’s get you to the bed.”

Your boyfriend scoops you up and carries you into his room. He helps you take off your dress and shoes, and puts one of his shirts on you to sleep in. You’re out cold when he tucks you in.

After Fez puts you to bed, he sits down beside you and watches you sleep for a while, just to make sure that you’re okay.

[chaussetteblanche]

tired of it

pairing : kit connor x gn!reader summary : kit is tired of everyone thinking that you're dating his co-star, sebastian croft word count : 1'422 warnings : swear words

(gif not mine)

You fixed your hair in the mirror one last time before stepping out of the trailer. You turned to Kit, raising your eyebrows at him. "How do I look ?" you asked, smiling exaggeratedly at him. He chuckled, smoothing down his sweater. "Beautiful, as always," He stepped forward and gently cupped your cheek. You playfully rolled your eyes. "Love, you always say that," you groaned. "Yeah, 'cause it's always true, innit ?" He leaned forward, brushing his lips against yours. You smiled and pushed your lips harder against his, kissing him softly. His hand came up to rest on your ribcage as he tilted his head to the side. You slid your tongue into his mouth, pressing your chest against his. A little breath escaped him as his grip on you tightened.

You were interrupted by a knock on the trailer door. "Oi, Y/N, Kit, you're on in two minutes !" your manager, Abigail, yelled. You sighed, and rested your forehead on Kit's shoulder. You licked your lips, tasting him on them. "The world awaits," you mumbled. "The world awaits," Kit repeated, grinning. "C'mon, let's go before she has your head." He took your hand and pulled you out of the trailer. You started walking towards the room where your and Kit would be doing an interview.

When you arrived before the building, you reluctantly let go of Kit's hand. Only your co-stars, the directors and your managers knew you were dating. And you wanted to keep it that way for now. You weren't ashamed of being with each other or anything of the sort, but you both preferred to keep your private lives... well, private. And that meant not telling the entire planet you were dating.

"Ah, Y/N, Kit, welcome," the interviewer stood up from where he had been sitting. His hair was greying and he was wearing a ridiculous blue scarf. He greeted them with a smile : "I'm Teddy. Pleasure to meet you," He extended his hand and you both shook it. "Nice to meet you," you smiled. "Pleasure," Kit spoke. You greeted the other people in the room before you sat down on two red chairs.

"So, what can you tell us about your upcoming show : Heartstopper ?" he asked. "Well, obviously we can't tell you much before it's released but it's pretty amazing. It covers a bunch of important themes like sexuality, bullying, friendships and school," you spoke with a smile. Kit nodded. "It's amazingly inclusive as well. I think it's one the few shows that has so much diversity, which makes it relatable to lots of people," the redhead added. Teddy nodded and looked down at his cards.

"And how do you like the cast ? Do you all get along well ?" he questioned. Kit nodded. "Oh yeah, we all get along great. We're all around the same age, which helps, I think. We're always joking around. It's really great." "Yeah," you continued, "I think we all found a big group of supportive friends here and it's really nice." "So there aren't any tensions ?" Teddy asked, raising an eyebrow. "Uh, no, not really, no. I mean, sometimes someone will be in a bad mood, but that's never really a problem," you shrugged. Kit nodded, licking his lips, drawing your lips to them. Wow, you wanted to kiss him. "Yeah, I think we're all old and mature enough to not do anything that could start shit," You softly hit his arm. "Kit !" you gasped, "You can't say swear words during interviews !" you chided, chuckling. He widened his eyes, scoffing. "You're telling me that !" He turned to Teddy : "I swear to God, half of the words that come out of their mouth are swear words !" You sat up straighter in your seat. "They are not !" you gasp. Kit laughed. "They are !" You crossed your arms over your chest. "Whatever, I'm not talking to you any more," you pout. Kit playfully rolled his eyes and wrapped his arm around your shoulders. "You know I'm only bantering, love," he looked down at you with those eyes. You looked up at him, feeling a sudden urge to kiss him. Hard. But you remembered the cameras and the interviewer in the room. "Whatever," you smiled.

The interviewer asked a few more questions about the show before passing onto more personal questions. "And Y/N, some rumours have been going around that you're dating your co-star Sebastian Croft. Can you confirm this ?" he asked, leaning forward in his seat. You winced and felt Kit tense up next to you. You wanted to reach out to him. But you couldn't. "Uh," you paused for a second, thinking of what to say, "I think we all like to keep our lives pretty private around here, so I'm not going to answer that question," you replied, your smile almost gone. "Are you sure ? Because you guys have been looking pretty cosy in some pictures and clips going around. Maybe -" "I don't think anyone can or should assume anything based on a few pictures or videos. And as I said before, I won't be answering any questions about my personal life." Your smile was definitely gone now. Teddy seemed to sense he had stepped into unsafe territory and smiled apologetically. "Right, I'm sorry. Let's move on to the next question, shall we ?"

You stepped out of the building after saying goodbye to Teddy and his team. You let out a breath when you reached Kit's trailer. He had been silent the entire way back. He opened the door and waited for you to step inside before following. He threw himself on the couch, letting out a big sigh. "What's up ?" you asked, removing your shoes. "Nothing," he mumbled, looking at you as you trudged over to him. "Love, you didn't say shit during the way back. You didn't even make fun of Teddy's scarf !" He chuckled. "I'm going to ask you again, what's wrong ?" you set your knees on each side of his hips and sat down, straddling his upper thighs.

He sat up a bit straighter. "It's just-" He licked his lips and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm tired of everyone thinking you're dating fucking Sebastian ! I mean, it's not his fault or yours, but it's getting really hard to keep my cool when every bloody interviewer asks my partner if they’re fucking one of my mate, y'know ?" You worried your bottom lip, eyebrows furrowing. "I'm sorry, love," You placed a comforting hand on his chest. "No, angel, you've got nothing to be sorry about, I'm just not handling it well." He sucked the inside of his cheek. You chuckled. "Are you kidding ? You're handling it better than I ever could. If anyone asked you more than once if you're dating, I dunno, Yasmin, for example, I would fucking loose it," you admitted. "You serious ?" he asked, grinning, resting his hands on your thighs. "Yeah, I mean, I'm not proud it and I'm trying to work on it, but I'm- I'm a bit possessive, you know ?"

Kit laughed, his hand trailing up your ribcage. "And here I was, worried that I was overreacting when you would've done the same !" he grinned. "I'd probably have done worse, to be honest," you mumbled, cheeks turning pink. "Oh yeah ? What would you have done ?" he asked amusedly, clearly invested. "I dunno, if you were okay with it, probably made sure the paparazzi caught us kissing about eighteen times in eighteen different places. Or maybe caught getting nasty in a jacuzzi or the back of your car, I don't know..." "Y/N !" he gasped, eyes twinkling with laughter. "You asked !" you defended yourself, covering your face with your hands. Kit gently took your hands off your face and pulled you forward until you were lying on top of him, head resting on his chest.

He kissed your forehead. "I love you," he whispered. "I love you too," you kissed his lips. "Next time anyone asks me, I'll tell them to fuck off, yeah ?" "Yeah," "Or we could always go public, you know ?" you offered quietly. "For real ?" he asked, looking down at you with wide eyes. "Yeah, I mean, what could go wrong, right ?"

[riddlesrose]

“i want a kiss.”

pairings; riddle, vil, azul, silver

it’s not a question, it’s a demand 🗣

riddle rosehearts

“really…? here?!”

the preparations for an unbirthday took longer than expected and you’ve been away from riddle all day. lest he be left alone for a single moment, he’s expected somewhere else.

the preparations were not in vain, however, the unbirthday party looked as beautiful as ever. the biggest table, we’re you, trey, rook and riddle were to be seated was in the middle of it all.

surrounded with other tables and decorations, the environment was all around happy. the stack of sweets on your table made your mouth water just looking at them, trey did a wonderful job as always. (with your help as well, of course.)

riddle didn’t seem to be as happy and relieved as you three were, he seemed… disappointed?

cater beat you to him, “riddle, hey, why so sad?”

riddle looked up at cater right away and put on a fake face, trying to make it seem like he was fine, but it more or less looked like he was about to cry, which is not what he was going for.

you placed a hand on cater’s shoulder and ushered him away with trey.

“what’s wrong with mr. housewarden rosehearts?” you teased.

his face contorted at the name.

“i jest, but really, the party looks great, people are happy and-”

he cut you off, “i don’t want it to happen again.”

you felt sympathetic for him, he hasn’t let the guilt go of his overblot… “that wasn’t your fault nor will it happen again, i promise.”

“yeah? you think so?”

“oh, i know so,” a smug smile crossed your face, “i’ll keep you in a good mood, starting now with-” you raised your hand to his chin and moved his face away from yours so his cheek was facing you, and placed a kiss upon it. “starting with that.”

his hand flew up to his cheek, and he flushed like a red rose.

“so easy to tease~”

vil schoenheit

“you deem yourself worthy?”

“i do, yes, now c’mere,” you held out your hand as a way of beckoning him over.

vils violet eyes drifted over to his bed, where you were seated. the canopy that hung over the headboard sparkled in the sun that trickled through the window.

vil schoenheit, the most beautiful man in school and that you’ve ever seen, took your hand as you guided him to sit next to you on his bed. he sat beside you with a brush in hand.

his blonde and lilac hair was done beautifully, he took great care of his hair, appearance and even how he smelt. his face was flawless, spotless. the pale, smooth skin of his face looked too soft for words yet so desirable to touch.

he started to run his lanky fingers through your hair while brushing it into the style of his choosing, “i have a proposition,” his voice was like a sweet flower, so beautiful.

“is that so?” you smiled and tilted your head to the side so that vil could reach the opposite side of your head.

“yes, you let me do some makeup on you and..”

“and?” you turned to him, letting your hair fall in place, how vil styled it.

“no, no and, just let me make you look even more beautiful.” he lead you to his vanity. you agreed.

he worked delicately at your face while avoiding messing up your hair, even though he could re do it.

being so used to it all, you closed your eyes and let him work away and move your face however he deemed he needed.

“part.” you parted your lips, he sounded focused. the pop of the gloss signalled you he was finishing up his job, which was quick, making it a natural look. the gloss was smooth and felt silky. cold and shiny.

rubbing your lips together, spreading it around, you waited for vil to let you know he was fully finished.

he replaced the gloss in his drawer but grabbed a lipstick instead, “not done?”

he leaned closer to his mirror, “touch up,” he mumbled.

the lipstick was a beautiful shade of purple, one you hadn’t seen before, you took a place beside him, looking at yourself in his full length mirror while he applied the purple paste,

“okay, one final thing,” he reached his hand out for you to come closer, as close as comfort let, and pressed his lips against your cheek, leaving a purple kiss mark on your in its place.

“now, you’re done.”

you wore the purple mark around all day. not daring to remove it, ignoring all the looks and questions.

azul ashengrotto

“oho~ a kiss?”

as you sauntered over to where azul was working on some papers, his facade began to fall lose a bit. sure, he’s a confident guy, but not with you. you make his senses all tingly and his heart all soft. he truly can’t get enough of you.

the stack of papers he was working on was pushed aside by you as you sat very close to him in his booth. with your thighs touching, you left no room in between the two of you.

azul turned his torso towards you but leaned back as a blush crept up his neck, towards his ears.

the goosebumps he felt were un real, you were so close to him that you could see them forming. as he leaned back, you leaned forwards slowly, tauntingly.

since he was in the corner booth, there was a curve in the seat. the plush cushions showed a slight purple - blue hue under the lights of the lounge. azul tried to make a break for it, to prevent you from seeing his flustered face but you put an arm beside his head, on the corner of the booth.

‘damn this corner.’ azul couldn’t make up his mind whether he liked this side of you or he’d rather cower in his room right now.

thankfully, your arm stopped him from choosing the ladder, so he stayed in place, watching, waiting.

you stopped mere inches from his own face as you examined his full eyelashes, his beautiful lips and perfectly placed beauty mark, under his bottom lip.

he was becoming more flustered the more you stared at him, impatient too, that he pouted a bit. his bottom lip protruded his top lip and it made him loop impossibly more cute.

“pouting, are we?” you tease.

“am not!” he retorted. he most definitely was not pouting. never in a million years would you catch him pout like a child.

“you’re more likely to see my under water form before that, which you won’t.”

you took a second before replying, “baby-”

“now, if you do not mind-” he was interrupted by the kiss you ever so patiently waited for.

it was short, sweet, but meaningful. it left the second year dorm leader mumbling about his stack of papers with a red face, facing away from you.

his ears gave it away, they were quite the shade of red.

silver

“ ‘m awake, im a…wake…”

“malleus!” you shouted.

“malleus!” lilia copied you and your voice in a joking manner.

“dad, no-” silver cut himself off, he doesn’t usually call lilia his dad, either ‘father’ or just his name.

“awh, silver!~” lilia appeared behind silver in a blink of an eye, basically strangling him from how hard he was hugging him.

you had to peel him off like a banana peel so you five could continue your game.

friday nights are yours, lilias, malleus’, sebeks and silvers night for what lilia calls ‘family bonding’, which is not what it is, it’s more of a diasomnia sleepover. malleus liked the idea of being able to hang around and bond with his house mates so he agreed to host in his room, seeing as it was also the biggest.

“okay silver, your turn,” sebek pushed the dice towards silver. but he didn’t move to grab them.

“silver?” you shook his arm, “you’re sleeping again,”

he awoke slowly, like normal, “huh? sleeping, again? my bad,”

“don’t be sorry!” lilia chirped. “it is actually quite late, anyways so if you’d like to tap out, that’s cool.”

“you looked around for a clock, finding the digital one on malleus’ night stand, reading 12:49am.

“ten to one, it is pretty late,” sebek yawned, followed by silver then you.

“look at my three children, all sleepy and ready for bed,”

“lilia! we are not children,” you laughed, he sounded like a doting father. well, technically he is…

“well, silver’s already asleep again,” sebek pointed out, this time with silver’s head in your lap with your hand running through his hair, which made him fall asleep this time.

“i can get him up, silver, kiss please.”

his eyes opened almost immediately, “ ‘m awake, cmere,” he scrunched up his nose when he realized it was just a wake up tactic and not a for real statement.

“do you want-” you were cut off by silver creeping up and stealing a kiss from you.

“you said you wanted one, don’t,” he yawned, “don’t tease me,” and he fell back into your lap with a soft sigh.

sebek’s face was completely red, he feels as if he shouldn’t have witnessed what he did, malleus was unfazed and lilia looked like a freaking weirdo, he was ready to probably go crazy, his little silver being so impulsive, how crazy.

“lilia you look like you’re going to burst at the seams.” malleus looked over to him and caught a smile behind his hand.

sleep came easy after that, the cot you shared with silver was covered in blankets and pillows as silver liked to have options when he was conscious enough to make decisions, most of the time, however, your stomach or chest was his pillow and he was partially your blanket.

[oreosmilkshakes]

Adore You

Pairing: Stephen Strange x fem!Reader

Word Count: 2,038

Warnings: Mild Spoilers for DSMoM! 

A/N: I don’t remember the dialogue so please excuse it :DD. This fic was inspired by a post on Tumblr I saw which said something about Stephen saving the reader from a bad man. I hope ya’ll enjoyed it! (also I wrote this in like an hour and a half and it was more to a fluffy side)

Edit: (also, I found the post! :D)

Comments/feedback are appreciated!

Taglist: NIL

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

[Name] never understood the true meaning of love until she met Stephen Strange. The first time she met the Sorcerer, he had saved her before a large concrete debris could squish her during the Black Order’s attack on Earth seven years ago. Unfortunately, she was a victim of the snap and five years of her life were gone, just like that.

In an attempt to gain traction of normality, [Name] spent a majority of her time in New York where she met with Stephen again. Little did they know, it would sprout into a beautiful relationship. A coffee offer turned into a date and a date turned into a two-year healthy relationship. Stephen was the first one to confess. He was ready to let go of his hold on Christine and move on. He found a future with [Name] and he vowed to not mess it up the same way he did with Christine.

It became his biggest regret.

Stephen woke up with a frantic yell, cold sweat coated his bare body. His chest heaved continuously, the nightmare plagued his mind. It felt all too real too. Stephen raised a hand, fingers pushing hair away from his forehead as he forced himself to absorb the experience. Turning to his lover’s side of the bed, he found it to be empty.

“[Name?],” Stephen called out, only silence greeted him. That’s when he realised that [Name] had an early shift in the cafe. The cold was familiar but that doesn’t mean he liked it. Stephen very much prefers waking up next to [Name].

Pushing the duvet off, his attention was caught to his side table, an opened envelope rested against the bedside lamp. Stephen picked it up, mentally slapping himself for almost forgetting about Christine’s wedding. With a wave of his hand, his closet doors opened. But before he did anything else, he picked up his phone. There were ‘work’ emails and texts from Wong. Among all that, Stephen smiled when he spotted her name. He tapped on the message.

[Name]: Good morning, handsome! I left some breakfast for you in the kitchen. Have fun at Christine’s wedding! And send my regards to her

His smile widened at the attached photo of his lover dressed in her barista attire with a fellow colleague. She was winking, tongue sticking out with a peace sign held up beside her head. Shaking his head at her childish yet adorable behaviour, he left his phone to freshen up with [Name] on his mind.

Stephen waved his hand, his tie magically bound itself around his neck. He slipped on the black blazer, smoothing the fabric down. The Cloak levitated by the mirror and with another wave of his hand, the sentient fabric was disguised as a red handkerchief for his breast pocket. He looked good but he was sure he would look better with [Name] on his arm.

Fastening his watch on his wrist, the very same one [Name] gifted him on their first anniversary. Stephen smiled fondly at it, the crystal glinted under the dimmed light. His thumb brushed the leather, shaking his head to snap himself back to reality.

He had better leave or else he would be late for the wedding

Stephen arrived at the church by walking. He prefered this way. He recognised the street too, noticing that just a few blocks down was the cafe [Name] worked at. He made a mental note to pick her up after the wedding, only then reminding himself that she would end her shift around the time of the reception.

He walked past the doors, the church was bustling lightly with guests of the wedding. Stephen looked around- He always knew how much Christine loved simplicity. He chose to sit a short distance from the altar, just to watch Christine and her new husband share their vows.

He took his seat, waiting patiently until the ceremony began. When the doors opened, flower girls led the bride, littering flowers in the path she walked. The guests stood, Stephen included. Christine had a big smile on her lips as she held the bouquet of flowers in her hands, walking down the aisle.

Their eyes briefly met and Stephen knew that old Stephen would still be in love with her. But he wasn’t. He loved [Name] with all his heart.

However, Stephen couldn’t help but imagine this wedding to be his own with [Name]. ‘When the time is right,’ The Sorcerer thought, his focus brought back to the wedding.

The reception was at an adjacent building to the church. Stephen was alone, sipping on a martini when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned, meeting with the new bride.

A soft smile spread on his lips.

“Christine,”

“Stephen,”

“Congratulations on the wedding,”

Christine smiled, adjusting her gown.

“Thank you,”

Silence.

“So..I saw that you were alone. Where’s [Name]?,” She began.

Stephen set his drink down.

“Last minute shift at work. She sends her regard,”

Christine laughed lightly, nodding.

“I’ll be sure to thank her when I see her again. Although, I hope the next wedding I attend is yours and [Name]’s,” Christine teased.

Stephen found himself growing more and more comfortable with these light and almost teasing conversations with Christine. He hated past Stephen’s treatment of her but he had the time to fix their relationship. It was good probably because [Name] forced him to set it all right and Stephen loved her more for that.

A woman tapped on Christine’s shoulder, whispering something to her before leaving.

The shorter woman looked up at Stephen.

“I have to go. Enjoy the rest of the reception,” And she left, leaving Stephen to order another glass of martini.

For the next two hours, Stephen forced himself to mingle around. He wasn’t surprised to find fans of him attending the wedding too and he was humble to be their favourite. He was on his fifth martini and he looked down at his watch. He needed some fresh air so he left for the balcony.

The warm sun struck his face and Stephen sighed softly in relief. He looked down below, watching New Yorkers go about their day as well as vehicles cluttering the street below.

As his eyes scanned the street below, he spotted a distant figure looking all too familiar. It was [Name], bag clutched to her chest and another man pestering her by the looks of it.

Stephen’s eyes darken, fingers gripping the stem of the martini glass.

[Name] thanked her manager for the early release. It was two in the afternoon and she was exhausted from the lunch crowd. She held her bag close, leaving the cafe hastily in the direction of the Sanctorum. Greenwich Village wasn’t big so everything was within walking distance, probably.

[Name] had a spring in her step as she walked, excited to see Stephen at home looking all handsome in his suit. Stephen had dropped her a photo of his wear for the wedding and she had to excuse herself to the back of the cafe to swoon to herself. Despite their two years of relationship, [Name] could never get enough of Stephen and he was the same. She imagined him looking magically handsome in their imagined wedding, an audible sigh escaping her lips.

However, her little dream bubble was interrupted when a man tapped on her shoulder.

“Hey, miss! Sorry but I can’t help but notice you. You’re really pretty, you know that?”

Uncomfort grew largely in her chest, swallowing as [Name] tried to ignore the pesky man but to no avail.

She walked faster and even if she did, the man caught up to her.

“Hey come on now, pretty lady. Don’t ignore me like that,” He grinned an ugly grin and she turned to him.

“Leave me alone,” She snapped, rolling her eyes.

This wasn’t her first time being approached by men who clearly couldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. The other two times, Stephen was there to protect her but right now, [Name] was alone and she had to protect herself. A last result method would be the little device Stephen gave you to protect yourself.

It was a little spray tube that when sprayed at, the victim would fall asleep on the spot.

[Name] rummaged her bag for the little tube but she didn’t feel anything. Did she leave it at home?

‘Of all the days,’ [Name] groaned.

[Name] felt a hand caught her wrist and she tensed as the man had that same ugly smile on his face.

“Come on! Just try to get to know me, yeah? I’m really a good guy,”

He had a vice grip to her wrist and the more [Name] struggled, the more her wrist hurt.

Stephen has had enough. He downed the last of his drink, turning to politely return the glass to a waiting staff. Grabbing his handkerchief, he flicked it out, the Cloak was out of its disguise. Stephen vaulted off the balcony, the Cloak wrapped around his shoulders to save its master. He switched his suit for his blue robes, swiftly flying down to [Name]. Wedding guests and nearby passersby gasped at the mini show, watching as Doctor Strange heroically save a woman.

He grabbed the man by the collar, pulling him off the woman.

[Name] winced, rubbing her wrist, stepping away to give Stephen some space.

“Listen here, asshole. I don’t appreciate you treating my woman like that. Hell, or any woman like that. It doesn't hurt to treat them with some decency and respect,” Stephen growled, blue eyes dark with pools of fiery anger hiding behind them.

He tightened his grip to the frightened man’s collar.

“If I ever see you disrespecting anyone else, I will do so much worse than this. Now leave,” Stephen hissed, shoving the man back and just before he could run, the Cloak gave his head a final,  hard smack as a form of warning.

He wasted no time picking [Name] up bridal style, the woman squeaked in embarrassment from the sudden act that she buried her face in Stephen as he flew back to the Sanctorum.

Stephen set her down on her feet, his hands held her waist as [Name] let out a heavy sigh of relief. Her cheeks were still red and hair was a slight mess from the wind.

“Thank you..I was beginning to think he was never going to go away,”

Stephen cracked a small smile, a hand moving up to cup her cheek.

“Don’t thank me. I was nearby,”

[Name] squinted hard before snapping her finger.

“Right! Christine’s wedding was close. Oh, thank you so much, honey,”

She leaned up, giving him a tight hug and a sweet kiss to his cheek.

All anger Stephen felt dissipated into nothingness, heart cooled from the affectionate gesture. His other hand held [Name]’s wrist, the one where the man held tightly. It was red and felt relieved when he noted that it would not bruise.

“I’m alright, Stephen,”

“I know, baby, but I just have to check,”

[Name] smiled. He cared so much and she felt so loved by how much she cared for him. She was no hero but she did her very best in only giving Stephen the best form of love he could receive from her.

Stephen’s hand moved to her waist again, gripping it tightly before leaning in until their foreheads touched. He leaned in further.

[Name] laughed lightly, leaning in for a kiss too.

But a heavy shake of the ground pulled both out of their little world.

“What was that?”

Stephen pulled away completely, rushing towards the edge of the roof to look down below.

In the distant street, people were screaming and running away from something.

“Trouble. I have to go,” Stephen levitated, ready to leave.

“Wait!” [Name] rushed to Stephen, tugging him down. She planted a kiss to his lips, giggling lightly from the tickle of his goatee against her chin.

“I love you. Now go save New York, Doctor Strange!” She cheered, stepping back. She waved to Stephen, the Sorcerer had a wide smile and never has she seen Stephen Strange smile so widely, especially one filled with so much love and adoration.