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jaegeraether · 2 days

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Sunsets and footballers (Part 72)

Lucy Bronze x Reader (59) / Alexia Putellas x Character (29) & Jordan Nobbs x Leah Williamson (14)

Masterlist (other parts here)

((**3.1k**))

ALEXIA POV

“Fuck.” Lucy growled. “Fuck. Fuck.”

“It’s okay. It’s just Ona.”

Alexia watched her jaw twitch as she drove. “Did you ask her to come?” She repeated.

“No.”

She saw her hands on the steering wheel turn white with just how hard she was gripping. Alexia knew Lucy. She couldn’t console her. She needed to be there in the room with them. With Blau. She needed to physically be there to protect her. She was always that way.

Alexia looked down at the warm pile of grey fur cuddled in her lap and smiled. Chiquito was on his back in a position that should have been impossible for his spine, a single paw over his eyes and the other touching Alexia. Needing to know she was there.

“When did you talk to her?”

“This morning after I realise I… was alone.”

Lucy immediately sympathised. She didn’t have to look at her to know. She felt it.

“She call me about the national game this week to see if I go.”

She ran her fingers through the soft fur of his belly, watching him squirm as he enjoyed it, moving his paw from his eyes and slow blinking up at her.

“Will you?”

Alexia sighed. She’d been trying to avoid all of these thoughts. “I don’t know.” She replied in Spanish. Lucy knew enough for that.

She nodded. “If there’s anything we can do…” She cut herself off.

“I know. Thank you. Today will be fun.”

“And there’s YFN’s birthday this week…”

“Oh?”

“This is the whole reason this Lumos event is happening. I called a few girls to come and distract her but it got out of hand. All of the WSL games were played yesterday so everybody has a day off today and came down to mingle and get their content done. It’s a lot. But I really just wanted to organise her birthday with people while she was busy.”

Alexia gave a small smile at that as Chiquito began playing with her hand, pulling it close to lick and then cuddle to it. Lucy was smart by doing that. Blau would have picked up what she was doing otherwise.

“Why you leave so late?”

“The organising? Because I wasn’t supposed to be here. I didn’t know what was happening with her and work and Spain and the clubs. And then the accident happened…”

It wasn’t an accident, but she didn’t want to use the word ‘assault’, which was more than understandable.

Chiquito grew tired of being on his back and stood, stretching and then stood on his back legs to nuzzle up to her neck. He was a very loving cat, and she knew he must have missed… her.

Alexia loved Chiquito. She allowed herself to be herself with him. Giving him all of the love and kisses and attention. That was the real Alexia, deep down. Too deep to find. Or at least she thought it was.

She looked over and saw that worried, protective, jaw-twitching Lucy had returned.

“Ona won’t be a problem. She just want to check on me.”

“You don’t understand.”

“I know her.” She replied in Spanish.

“Ona likes me.”

“I know.

“She really likes me.”

“I know.”

“I… I was lonely and let her get close. But we didn’t do anything…”

“I know,” Alexia said, softer.

“But you don’t know. My one job is to protect her. And only then make sure she’s happy and loved and has everything she wants. But I feel like I’ve just let her down every step of the way. The messages, the stalking, the brick… the fucking brick… Kristie. Mark. Her believing she was alone and we were broken up. The… accident…”

She almost whispered that. The assault. Alexia didn’t say it aloud but she understood now. Even if Ona wasn’t a threat, everything was a threat to Lucy now. She just needed to…

“I just need to protect her.”

Alexia nodded and she put her hand on her friend’s arm and squeezed. It felt good to be the comforter and not the comforted.

Chiquito settled back down into her lap, his back to her tummy, and his body curled around the entirety of Alexia’s free hand, claiming it as his own.

YFN POV

“Hey chicken,” Caitlin said as her arms came around her from behind and then she spotted Jordan and Leah. “Jordy! Leah!”

She ran around the table and shoved Katie aside to hug their best friends.

Jordan gave her a laugh and a hug back, and so did Leah. “Just did some interviews did you?”

“Yep, just need ta take some photos and we’ll have a break and get some a that lunch YFN was talkin’ about,” Katie said.

Jordan nodded silently and the couple immediately picked up on tension, their eyes wandering around the table.

“Wait, what’s happenin’?”

“What’s the issue? What did we miss?”

“Nothing. No issue..” YFN insisted.

Katie ignored her and started looking around the room until her eyes found Ona standing near the entrance, talking to several Man United players from her days there, though her eyes finding YFN ever so often.

Kyra crashed the party then with her cheeky attitude and said her hello’s. She took a bite of the closest item of food on YFN’s plate and her chewing slowed as her eyes found what the girls were looking at.

“What’s she doing here?” she asked.

Silence again. Shit. They didn’t know about Alexia and Ridley and there was no way to explain otherwise.

“She’s-” Leah started.

“-just here to see Alexia and do some press.” YFN cut off, appreciating that she was trying to help.

“Wasn’t she and Lucy a thing?” she asked.

“Not exactly..”

“Speakin’ of – where is she?” Katie interjected.

“Picking up Alexia.”

“Alexia’s coming? That’s great! Is Ridley coming?” Kyra blurted. She couldn’t be mad at her, it was Kyra after all and she was as innocent as they came.

More silence. Leah didn’t even attempt to speak this time. The silence lasted until Katie said, “Fuck. That bad?”

YFN cringed but it was all the response they needed. “That’s why she’s here?”

“I assume so… please don’t say anything.” She looked at Kyra and grabbed onto her cheeks with her good hand, her face puffed out with the food she had in there. She reminded her of a little Lucy sometimes. “Especially you. Don’t mention Ridley at all. Got in?”

She nodded until her face was released and she could swallow. “Yes, mum.”

“She looks a little out of place…” Alex said sympathetically, looking at Ona across the room.

It was true. Although she was surrounded by friends and former teammates, she still looked a little awkward and to be honest, she didn’t blame her. But in YFN’s head, everybody was making a big fuss over something so small. Lucy and Ona were never a thing. She liked Lucy, but so did the majority of the lesbian community. How could she ever be upset at someone for liking the person she adored with every fibre of her being?

“How far away is Lucy?” Kyra asked as a joke-not-joke.

Katie slapped her arm.

“We need to get going over to do our photos..” Caitlin said, tugging at Katie.

“On your way… can you two invite Ona over here, please?” YFN asked.

ONA POV

Ona had never before heard Alexia in such a state as that morning. She was crying, her voice shaking, half-asleep, and yet, somehow, Ona knew she was still holding back. She was destroyed. And Ona knew exactly what that felt like. She was always head over heels for Lucy and truly believed they were on their way to becoming something more when she’d met YFN. She didn’t hate either of them, she didn’t hate anyone. She simply grieved something she’d lost, and what’s worse, the potential of that something. And so when she heard Alexia so heartbroken over Ridley, she did the one thing she’d want someone to do for her. Be there.

Ona booked a flight as soon as Alexia had hung up. She’d messaged her but assumed she’d fallen asleep, and some part of her said maybe catching a flight was too dramatic, but she’d heard that pain in her voice, and Alexia was never, ever like that. Ever. She was going to be there for her friend because that’s who Ona was.

She was aware from a young age that she felt differently… more deeply… more passionately than other people. She was touchy and almost shy, and had her feelings affected by anything quite easily. She loved hugs and kisses, anything physical, from any of the people she was comfortable with, and although she knew it could be a bit much for some people, she didn’t care. It’s just the way she showed her emotions and to be quite frank, it helped take the edge off of the enormity of the things she felt. Alexia acted tough, but Ona had known her for a while. From Barca, the Spanish National team and prior to that, when they were young. And so she knew she was really a softy. She liked hugs. She liked being cared for. She just didn’t want anyone thinking that.

Ona messaged as she landed, and still nothing. She could have been asleep or more likely, she was ignoring her. She wasn’t surprised. Instead – she saw all of the messages from the girls about the Lumos event and jumped on board. Even if Alexia wasn’t there, perhaps players there would know where she was, or… maybe even YFN.

Although they’d had very little interaction, she knew it was because of their awkwardness towards the situation rather than any animosity. Whenever Ona had caught her eye at the pub, she’d never shied away from it. She’d always given her a smile, and not an empathetic one either, a polite one. That told her everything she needed to know about the woman. Yet, regardless of how nice she seemed, Ona did also hold a little hope that she would see Lucy at some point and be able to talk to her because fuck, did she miss her.

When Alexia didn’t respond, Ona took a taxi from the airport to Lumos and was greeted by chaos. She followed the directions of the staff as best as she could with their quick English and found herself being led into a room reverberating with a loud mass of voices, music, pets and other sounds. She didn’t have to wonder where to go first. Just as soon as she stepped into the room, her eyes found YFN. She was holding a phone up to her ear and paused before giving a smile and collecting herself.

She wondered if she should go over, or if she even liked her, but before she could argue both sides further in her head, her old Man United friends were there and surrounding her with excitement at her sudden arrival. She greeted them all and had a little catch up, letting them tell her about the different things she could do content-wise today. They encouraged it and honestly, it sounded like a great idea to fulfil her content needs in her own time and space, rather than being forced by her manager to find some for her to stay relevant and find sponsors. She just wished she’d brought Coco. Regardless of the girls all chatting around her, and Ona trying her best to distinguish the English from each other, her eyes kept finding YFN as she was talking in her group.

Just when Ona thought she’d be stuck there forever, two Arsenal players she’d briefly met before, Katie and Caitlin came over from YFN’s table and extended an invite to join her.

“Go, go!” Lucía García encouraged in Spanish. “She’s organising it all for us so she’s the person to talk to!”

Lucia wasn’t aware at that stage of Ona’s crush on Lucy otherwise she would have offered to keep her in the wheelchair. An over-exaggeration as she usually did.

She politely withdrew herself with the promise to see them all later, and headed over to YFN’s table where she now sat alone. She looked around and saw Leah Williamson, Jordan Nobbs and Alex Scott all sitting in an area with couches, headsets and microphones, talking and pointing around the area which was set up for podcasting.

“Hi,” she greeted, politely using English.

“Hola, Ona,” she smiled in return, though wincing slightly and dropped the smile a little. Ona’s eyes found her bruised jaw and she felt sick in her stomach. As she came around the table to kiss her on either cheek, she saw the wheelchair she was sitting in, her knee in a brace, her arm in a sling and couldn’t help the pure empathy that seeped from her. How was it possible to do that to another human being? And if Ona had ended up with Lucy, would they have done the same to her?

She sat down adjacent to her, YFN automatically moving her laptop and paperwork out of the way.

“How are you?” she asked, genuinely curious.

YFN chuckled and it was a cute, humble thing. “I’ve been better.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“No, thanks for the offer though. I appreciate it.” Another smile. She was also great with eye contact and her eyes held… intelligence and awareness. She could see why Lucy liked her so much. “You’ve come for Alexia?”

“Sí. I could not see her here..”

“She’s not yet. I think she’s slept most of this morning or just been ignoring her phone. Luce is on her way here now with her.”

“Ah.” She felt good, knowing that Alexia was coming, and that she’d seen her messages. “Do you know much?”

“I was going to ask you the same..”

“She call me this morning very upset. She kept saying ‘she left’ and that she didn’t deserve to be loved.”

“That Ridley didn’t deserve to be loved?”

“No.. no… Alexia. She wouldn’t let me say anything bad about her to make her feel better.” Ona knew her accent was strong as she struggled for words in English, but YFN was patient with her, following every word.

She nodded.

“Is it… true? She is gone?”

Another nod. She looked as if she knew more, but didn’t say, and Ona didn’t ask as she knew the relationship between the two and that it was private.

“Never coming back?”

She sighed. “I don’t think so, but I can’t be sure. I just… I’ve never seen Ridley so in love before. And the one thing I know about her is just how unpredictable she can be sometimes.”

“Did they…” Ona didn’t finish the sentence, fearing the question was too inappropriate but she knew just how much of a difference that would have made to the situation. Sex always complicates things.

“I believe so.”

Ona swore in Spanish.

“Didn’t you have a game last night? You must be tired..”

“I am used to it I think,” she admitted. The two shared a smile.

“For what it’s worth, I think you coming here to be there for Alexia is beautiful. You’re a really good friend.”

Ona hadn’t expected the rawness of what she’d just said. She held her eye contact and could feel the blush on her face a little. “Thank you. She would do the same for me. Alexia… does not have… do emotions well… if that makes sense. She hides and be’s strong so when I heard her I knew I must come.”

YFN nodded knowingly. “Will you stay here or take her home?”

“Whatever she wants. I need to be with the national team by Wednesday.”

It was Monday now and their new coach was not lenient in the slightest, though still somehow a slight improvement on the last. Alexia was still injured and not playing, though she tended to go and be supportive when she could. Right now Ona wondered if that was what she needed most.

“I wonder what will be better for her,” YFN pondered aloud, mirroring Ona’s thoughts. Her heart jumped a little. Maybe they were a lot alike in the way they thought and empathised and acted. Maybe that’s why Lucy liked her so much. And maybe, just maybe, Ona was also Lucy’s type.

She shook the thoughts from her head and watched as YFN wriggled a little uncomfortably in her chair. It must be horrible to be stuck in one place for fear of pain and an inability to move far.

“I am really sorry for what happened to you. You didn’t deserve it.” She meant it, every word. And she wanted to say more but knew she didn’t have to. YFN understood the ‘more’ without her having to say it. She’d noticed that about her.

“Thanks Ona. I really appreciate that. It means a lot.” She reached across the corner of the table with her good arm extended, and Ona took her hand and squeezed. They held each other’s hands and eyes and it felt cathartic, almost. And she knew it was more than just a thank you. It was a sign that things were okay between them, and that they both understood and appreciated each other, regardless of the Lucy complication.

As if she knew she was there, YFN’s eyes snapped straight towards the entrance Ona had walked in to see Lucy standing there, almost dishevelled, her eyes flicking between the two and to their joined hands and back. God, she looked good. Ona saw her throat bobble as she swallowed her emotions.

With her eyes falling on YFN and only her, she made her way across the room with purpose, and Ona couldn’t help but want her eyes back on her. She was distracted from her wanting, though, as she spotted Alexia entering the room with her famous frown and sunglasses. She was dressed well, as was typical of la Reina and her facial expression held no happiness there. She moved her glasses to the top of her head and her eyes also found the pair, examining the situation and then Lucy stalking for them. She was always in Captain mode.

She looked quite normal besides the slightly red, puffy eyes, which could be explained away easily with a lack of sleep, and Ona was unsurprised and indifferent by the attention she caught just by being there.

In fact, the only thing different about her was that she had a little grey cat perched over her shoulder, his head scanning the room before nuzzling back into her neck.

The little grey cat who Ona immediately recognised as Chiquito.

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charmandabear · 1 day

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Office Hours - Chapter Twelve

Summary:

You finally work up the nerve to ask Astarion about his past.

Pairing: Astarion/f!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 7.6k

Tags/Warnings: discussions of traumatic pasts, not just Astarion's, but Tav's as well, specifically partner abuse; depiction of a panic attack; mentions of (canon-typical) violence; spoilers for Heathers the Musical; somewhat feral kissing that honestly at this point shouldn't surprise anyone with these two

This chapter should be fine to read if you're not familiar with the plot of Heathers (movie or musical) but in case you want to read a quick summary, you can get that here.

I have officially retconned chapter 9 that Karlach got the home brewed beer from Lakrissa, not Aradin.

I can't believe I got the chapter out on both AO3 and Tumblr on the same day! It's been a few chapters since this has happened lol. As per usual, the screenshots are from @zipzoomzaria, although with me recently downloading the free cam mod I cannot take ENOUGH screenshots. I'll be uploading those soon.

Read it on AO3 ~ Masterlist

Astarion’s chest feels cool beneath your cheek as you slowly blink yourself awake. You listen to the sound of his breathing for a few moments – not a necessary impulse for him, just one he never unlearned. You eventually turn your head upward to see him looking at his phone. He notices you stir and a smile spreads across his face as he puts his phone down.

“Good morning,” he lilts, rubbing your shoulder gently with his thumb. You strain your neck up towards him, wordlessly asking for a kiss. He leans down and obliges, his chilled lips working against your warm ones, still sticky from sleep. You adjust your arms so you can wrap your hands around his neck and run your fingers through his curls. He presses his palm against your lower back, pulling your chest flush with his. His movements are unrushed, languid and sensual, and you’re just enjoying the soft feeling of his skin against yours.

“Morning,” you hum sleepily, slow blinking like a contented cat. He props himself up on an elbow and as his visage comes into focus, you realize just how put-together he looks. He’s already wearing his glasses and his hair looks as carefully coiffed as usual. You frown. “How long have you been awake?”

“How do you want me to answer that?” He quirks an eyebrow. “It’s not exactly like I sleep.”

Right. Elves trance instead of sleep. You probably could have paid more attention in your humanoid biology class in high school.

“So what do you do all night while I sleep?”

“Read, mostly,” Astarion says with a shrug. “Sometimes I grade. Just killing time, really.”

“Don’t you ever get, like, bored?” You narrow your eyes at him.

“Sometimes. More often than not I simply enjoy being near you.” His candor makes you flush, so you deflect with a teasing laugh.

“Ew, you like being near me? Gross.” You grin as you pull him back down to you, your hands curling around his neck and you kiss him, soft and slow. He slides his hand under your knee and pulls your calf around his waist. Your usual insatiable lust for him is tempered, and you just want to bask in his coolness like you have all the time in the world. He pulls away, brushing your hair behind your ear, and looks at you over his glasses with those blood red eyes of his.

“What would you like, love?” he murmurs, and you yawn reflexively.

“Coffee, before anything else,” you reply, rubbing sleep out of your eyes. You roll out of bed and adjust your bra and shorts that got twisted overnight. You pad into the kitchen with Astarion close behind you, and he perches himself on a barstool while you pull out the instant coffee and set the kettle to boil.

“Darling, no, instant coffee?” he sneers as you scoop it into your mug.

“Don’t be elitist, it doesn’t make sense for me to make a full pot every morning when it’s just for me, and Keurigs create a hellish amount of plastic waste.” You turn up your nose at him, and he stands to take the mug out of your hands.

“This is not elitism, this is self-preservation.” He dumps the granules into the sink, earning a quick “Hey!” from you. “I’d rather like to be able to kiss you without the taste of rotten dirt in your mouth.” He picks up his phone from the counter and pulls up DoorDash.

“My breath doesn’t get that bad,” you mumble and cross your arms obstinately.

“Perhaps not to a mortal, but trust me when I say this will be better for both of us.” You glance over his shoulder and watch as he loads up the cart with expensive artisan coffee beans, a French press, and a stainless steel coffee grinder.

“Astarion, I can’t afford all that,” you press, trying to take his phone out of his hands.

“Then consider it a gift,” he lobs back at you, holding his phone above your head so you can’t reach it. You plant yourself on a barstool and sulk for a moment before actually processing what he said.

“Wait, so you can tell when I’ve eaten or drunk something made with low quality ingredients?” Your brain spins the rolodex of all of the times you kissed him after having some trashy food.

“Unfortunately, yes,” he says with a regretful frown.

“And the night at the bowling alley when I was drinking that terrible beer?”

“Not particularly pleasant. But worth putting up with, because, well,” he clears his throat and flashes a coy smile, “it had been a while.” Your ears flush and he saunters over to you, planting a kiss just below your earlobe. Your hands rest on the waistband of his boxer briefs.

“But… coffee,” you pout, and he takes your hands and pulls you over to the couch.

“If you’re patient, my dear, it’ll be worth the wait,” he coos, sitting you down and pulling your legs onto his lap. “And speaking of waiting.” He brings your hand to his lips, running his nose along the blue-green veins in your inner wrist. “Do you mind terribly if I have my breakfast while you’re waiting for yours?”

Your breath catches in your throat as he gently grazes the point of one fang across the sensitive skin. “You’ve never fed from my wrist before,” you breathe, almost as though speaking too loudly might spook him.

“Does that make you reconsider?” His eyes flick up towards yours but his lips remain on your wrist, ghosting over the flesh. You shake your head, transfixed by his subtle movements. His lips stretch into a smile before he sinks his fangs into you, the sharp pain sending a twin bolt to your heart and your core before melting away into that sublime numbness. You’ve never watched him feed before, and you’re almost taken aback by how beautiful he looks. His lips pressed to your wrist, his hair falling into his eyes, his back expanding and contracting as his breath quickens. He must sense your gaze because he looks up, his red eyes sparkling. Your heart rate spikes, and it only takes a few seconds for him to smile against your wrist, reacting to whatever your sudden arousal changed in your bloodstream.

It feels too soon when he pulls away, despite the oncoming lightheadedness suggesting otherwise. Unlike his usual animalistic expression he wears after drinking your blood, he has a sated, almost goofy look to him. You giggle and swipe the red droplet from his bottom lip and suck it off your thumb.

His sleepy gaze moves to you, but when he sees you licking your blood off your finger, his features sharpen into the more predatory look you’re used to. He shifts your legs so that he’s towering over you, and you have no choice but to sink down into the couch on your back. He presses a knee between your legs and you bite your lip to stifle a moan. He descends onto your lips and you taste the blood that still coats his. You arch your back into him and he slides his hand beneath you, pulling your center closer. He slides his knee upwards, pushing your thigh with it, and rolls his hips into your now spread cunt. You groan into his lips, hands scrambling for purchase on his bare shoulders. His fingers hook into the waistband of your shorts and you’re about to wriggle out of them when there’s a knock at the door.

You both freeze, then suddenly you remember. “My coffee!” you squeal excitedly, pushing Astarion off of you. “They probably just left it right outside the door, babe, can you grab it while I reheat the water?” You clamber over the back of the couch and over to the kitchen while Astarion shakes his head at your antics.

He pulls the front door to your apartment wide open and a startled half-gnome stands there holding a paper bag full of coffee supplies. Their eyes travel down Astarion’s half-naked form, lingering momentarily on the growing bulge in his boxer briefs. They flush a violent purple before muttering a quick, “Sorry,” and shoving the paper bag in his hands. They practically sprint down the hall as Astarion calls, “Have a lovely day!” with an impish wave.

“Astarion, you scared the poor thing half to death,” you scold as he closes the door, and he responds with a nonchalant shrug.

“Probably more exciting than anything else they’ll see today, I did them a favor.” He brings the coffee supplies over to the counter and hooks his thumbs into your shorts. “Now, where were we?” He presses into your back and kisses the crook of your neck.

“Can I at least have my coffee before an orgasm?” you groan breathlessly, and Astarion chuckles.

“Who said that’s my intention?” he hums into your ear, causing you to shiver.

“Historical evidence,” you throw over your shoulder at him as you shimmy out of his grip. You pull out the various implements and stare at them blankly. You shift your gaze to Astarion and frown. “You bought all this stuff, show me how to use it.”

“Fine. Sit.” Astarion pushes you onto the barstool and begins to open the boxes with the French press and the coffee grinder. You watch him while he stands over the counter, and your eyes trace over the elaborate scarring across his back. You suddenly realize you’ve never been able to get this good of a look at it, he’s usually so carefully guarded. You’ve been afraid to bring it up again since that first night he told you about it.

You chew on your lip while he assembles your coffee, anxiously weighing the pros and cons of asking him about it. You want to ask him more about his past, but you can’t even fathom what it’s like for him to have lived more than three times your entire lifespan and still have an eternity to go.

He hands you the mug and looks at you expectantly. You snap out of your mini reverie and look down at the coffee in your hand, a few shades darker than you’re used to.

“Thank you, although I usually put in a little more milk than that,” you admit sheepishly.

“With that offal you had been drinking, I don’t doubt it. Try it first, I’ll put in more if you want.” He puts his hands on his hips as you eye him suspiciously. You take a tentative sip, bracing yourself for the acrid bitter taste, but are met instead with something smooth and rich. Still bitter, but tempered by a creaminess that has nothing to do with the milk. You look up at him with a pleasantly surprised look on your face.

“Okay, I hate to say it, but you were right,” you groan reluctantly. He smirks and tilts your chin up to give you a tender kiss.

“Still as sweet as ever,” he purrs, and a light flush rises to your cheeks. Then your mind wanders back to your earlier train of thought, and your brow furrows.

“Um, Astarion, can I ask you something?” Your voice is a little dryer than you’d like it to be. His eyebrows shoot up over his glasses, and he nods. You take his hand and lead him over to the couch, curling your knees into your chest and holding your coffee mug in both hands. “Can you tell me more about… about your scars?”

Astarion exhales a breath of relief. Whatever he thought you were going to ask, it wasn’t that.

“Er, yes, well… How much do you know about vampires?” He looks at you carefully and you blink in surprise. Very little, and you’re surprised it didn’t occur to you to look up more.

“Besides the basics, I guess, no sunlight, mirrors, garlic,” you rattle them off in your head. He giggles when you say ‘garlic.’

“The garlic is a myth, but you’ve got the basics, yes. Haven’t you ever wondered why I’m able to bite you without consequences? Well, besides the dizziness, I suppose,” he adds with a sly grin.

“I guess not, no,” you frown, wishing that he would just tell you instead of this weird quiz.

“I am not technically a full vampire – I’m a vampire spawn. I was turned while on the brink of death by a vampire named Cazador Szarr,” he spits the name like it’ll poison him if it lingers too long in his mouth. “I was his slave for two hundred years, compelled to do anything and everything he commanded. Most of the time it meant luring victims back for him to feed.” Astarion’s eyes glaze over, and you slide out your foot to gently touch his knee. You’re at a loss on how you can possibly comfort him for something this traumatic, so you let him continue in his own time.

“And once, it meant lying still while he carved this into my back over the course of a night. He claimed it was a poem. He made a lot of revisions as he went.” He scowls at the memory. “I only found out that it was something written in Infernal after his death.”

“How did you escape?” Your voice is small, hardly able to comprehend what he’s telling you.

“Oh, that’s actually quite a fun story.” He lights up suddenly. “His six other spawn and I rose up to overtake him. It took years of planning, and we were under the constant threat of being caught. But we were successful, and we tore him to pieces.” His eyes sparkle with a bloodlust that you haven’t seen before and your heart pounds in your ears. You had said that you want to see the more predatory side of him, and you’re getting your wish. His face softens and his gaze refocuses on you. “That was about 100 years ago,” he concludes with a wry smile. He puts his hand on your foot next to his leg and pulls it into his lap, and you curl your toes against his hand.

“Well,” you exhale, still processing his entire story. “That certainly puts the trauma from my shitty ex into perspective,” you say with a pained smile, trying to make light of it.

“Suffering is relative, the enormity of mine doesn’t reduce yours.” He tilts his head as he looks at you, a silent question. He’s leaving it open for you to tell your story, but refrains from pressing.

“Well, it almost seems mundane in comparison,” you start with a heavy sigh, and he squeezes your foot lightly to encourage you to continue. “I’ve only had one even remotely serious relationship, and he was a piece of shit. Well,” you reconsider as you think of what those early days with him were like. “At first he just seemed like one of those ‘lovable asshole’ kind of guys, plus he had a Yorkshire accent, so clearly I have a type,” you say with a feeble laugh.

“No, a northerner? Darling, want better for yourself,” Astarion grimaces, and you glare at him.

“Like I said, I have a type,” you sneer. “But after a while, it became clear that he didn’t particularly respect me, I think partially because I was studying theatre and he was in STEM. He constantly talked down to me, he hated it any time I disagreed with him, and he would go out of his way to piss me off because he thought it was funny.”

You see Astarion wince, slowly putting the pieces together. You don’t particularly feel like rehashing the night you saw Taming again, so you continue.

“His friends weren’t terrible, though, and he was never as awful to them as he was to me, so I thought it was my fault. Like, if I were just somehow less annoying, or smarter, or more interesting, then he would suddenly stop being an asshole. There were some nights,” you swallow thickly, surprised by how difficult recounting this is. You thought you had worked through all this with Jaheira. “Some nights he was so persistent that I would just let him have sex with me so he would shut up and go to sleep.”

You feel Astarion tense beneath your leg, and he’s clenching his jaw so hard you’re worried his teeth might shatter. You quickly continue to try to put him at ease. “I sometimes wish I could go back to my 20-year-old self and just give her a huge hug and tell her that she’s worth more than that dick. But I’ve grown a lot since that relationship, and probably because of that relationship if I’m being perfectly honest. Wish I could have learned those lessons without an abusive asshole, but we play the hand we’re dealt.” You shrug and stare blankly at the dregs at the bottom of your mug.

When Astarion speaks, his voice is icy and measured. “And what’s this man’s name?”

“Aradin. Aradin Beno,” you answer, keeping your eyes cast down. Your gaze shoots up to Astarion with a sudden realization. “You’re not allowed to kill him, Astarion,” you warn. You would have been joking had you said that thirty minutes ago. But after learning exactly what he’s capable of, a genuine spike of fear runs through your heart.

“But why?” he says in a whiny voice. “I can make it look like an accident, I promise!”

“No, no murder!” You kick your other foot out at him, and he grabs your ankle in a single swift motion. His sudden movement makes your mouth twitch as you suppress the smile spreading across your lips.

“Does the prospect of me being a killer make you feel something, little love?” he drops his voice and your breath catches in your throat. You don’t want to admit just how much it does, so you choose to remain silent instead. You watch him with unblinking eyes as he prowls over you, taking your empty mug out of your hand and setting it on the coffee table. The way his eyes sparkle and the flash of his fangs tells you that he knows exactly what it makes you feel.

“Are you? I mean– have you? Besides the one, I guess,” you stammer as your heart threatens to pound out of your chest. He looms over you, pressing his thigh down between your legs.

“Would it be better or worse if I said yes?” His lips hover over yours, and the noise that slips out of your throat is a little embarrassing. He closes the distance and kisses you roughly, slipping his hand beneath your lower back and digging his nails into your skin.

You’re certain you would feel differently if you saw it in person… but the mental image of Astarion covered in blood after just having torn Aradin limb from limb sets you off. Something surges through you and you suddenly flip Astarion onto his back. You straddle his hips and crush your lips together, struggling to control your hungry kisses. You tangle your fingers into his hair, pulling hard. He claws into your thighs, pulling you down onto his rapidly growing erection, and you groan into his lips. You move your mouth down to his neck, biting down, and your whole body seizes when you hear his breathy moan in response.

He pushes up off the couch, keeping your legs wrapped around his waist while you cling to his shoulders, your assault on his neck never relenting. He carries you back to your room and throws you down on the bed hard enough to bounce slightly. He looks borderline monstrous as he crawls back onto you, pinning all four of your limbs down so escape is impossible.

Your breathing grows heavy as he ravages you, your hands messily grabbing at any part they can reach. He tears at your bra with his teeth and you moan loudly, panting uncontrollably. He bites your skin, not to feed but to mark you, to cover you in punctures and bruises that brand you as his. You arch your back into him, asking for more. You want him to tear you apart, to leave you broken and consumed. You whine, your breath wracking through your lungs.

But before long, your vision starts to darken around the edges. You feel your heart pounding in the well of your throat – not the way Astarion makes your heart pound, but the way your anxiety does. You get lightheaded and your muscles grow weak as Astarion, unaware of your change in faculties, bites down on the soft tissue of your breast.

“Wait,” you call weakly, and grabs your hair and pulls your head back, pressing his lips against your ear.

“What was that, love?” he growls as his pointer finger tugs on your shorts.

“Star, stop,” you croak, and his entire demeanor shifts. He pulls back to look at you, his red eyes round and shining with concern. You’re a little surprised when the tears fall from your eyes unbidden, streaking down your temples and into your hair. You start hyperventilating, shaking as you lose control over your breath. You shove your fist into your mouth, hoping fruitlessly that the pain might ground you.

After a moment of staring at you helplessly, Astarion pulls you into his arms and you curl up face down into his lap, choking out sobs as you grip his thighs. Your throat tightens and you feel like you’re being strangled by your own larynx. You gag as your stomach heaves, trying to expel itself from out of your mouth.

Astarion rubs your back, rocking you gently. A soft stream of “shhhh” and “it’s okay, love, you’re okay,” pours out of his mouth. He breathes in and out slowly, and you eventually find your breath enough to steady it, lengthening your inhales and exhales to match his. You lay there trembling for what feels like hours until you manage to push yourself back up into a sitting position.

“Gods, I’m sorry, I don’t know what that was about,” you chuckle feebly, wiping tears and snot from your face. Astarion starts to reach out to touch your cheek, but he pulls his hand back hesitantly.

“Darling, you don’t need to apologize. Are you… are you alright?” he asks, voice unsteady. You press the heels of your palms into your eyes until your vision goes starry, then take his hands in yours.

“I am, yes. I’m sorry. I know you said I don’t need to apologize,” you add quickly as he opens his mouth to protest. “Like, I’m sorry that it happened as much as I’m sorry that I probably freaked you out.”

“Did I do something wrong?” His voice is smaller than you’ve ever heard it, and you furiously shake your head.

“No, gods no. The opposite, actually.” You attempt to flash him a smile, but it just comes off as tired. “I think it just became too much too quickly. And I guess I’m not as… worked through… the Aradin stuff as I thought I was.” You frown at your clunky phrasing and he more confidently reaches out to stroke your cheek. You press your face into his palm, holding his hand to your lips as you take a few more long, grounding breaths. You finally drop his hand and look down at your torn bra, raising your eyebrows in surprise.

“Oh, er… sorry about that,” Astarion smiles sheepishly.

“Honestly I’m more impressed than anything else,” you laugh as you start to try to scooch off the bed to get another shirt. Astarion puts his hand on your knee to stop you and walks toward your dresser. It takes him a few tries to figure out the right drawer, but eventually he pulls out a tank top and hands it to you. You inexplicably turn away from him as you put it on, suddenly self-conscious in front of this man who has seen you naked maybe a dozen times.

You pull yourself to the edge of the bed, your dangling feet not quite touching the floor, and reach out to him with grabby hands. He steps closer to you and lets you embrace his waist wordlessly. You press your nose into his ribs and take a steady inhale. His scent is so much more concentrated from this angle, all sweat and pheromones. He runs his hand through your hair and you can feel tears welling up in your eyes again. He feels the wetness on his skin and pulls away suddenly.

“What? What did I do?” He sounds genuinely panicked and it gets an honest laugh out of you.

“No, it’s nothing. I’m just…” in love with you. Fucking hells, you haven’t even let yourself think those words before. You push the thought down, so very far down – you’re not even remotely in a position to confront it right now. “Do you think you can hang out for a bit? You don’t have plans today, do you?” You take a shaky breath. “I just don’t think I want to be alone right now.”

“Yes, my sweet, of course.” He takes your chin and tilts your head up so you’re looking up at him. “But will you please eat something? You’ve had nothing but coffee and I’m sure the blood loss isn’t helping.”

You smile and nod, standing to give him a proper kiss. The sudden movement does, in fact, make you wobble a bit. He grips your arms and glowers at you as your eyes scan down his bare chest and legs.

“Do you want, like, clothes? Maybe I can ask Shadowheart to run to your apartment and get you a fresh set?” You don’t mind staring at him half naked, but you figure you might as well give him the option.

“Well, as a matter of fact, do you think she would mind terribly feeding His Majesty? He gets awfully cranky if he doesn’t have his regular meals.”

“Huh, I wonder where he picked that up?” you ask with a coy smile and he rolls his eyes.

“You’re one to talk. Go eat.” He pushes you through your bedroom door. “And yes, please ask Shadowheart.” You laugh as you stumble through your living room to the kitchen. You pick up your phone from the kitchen island and pull up her number.

-Shade, are you busy? Can you do me a huuuuuuuuuuuuuge favor?

-what

It’s a bit on the early side for her, so frankly you appreciate the answer at all.

-Can you run to Astarion’s apartment to grab some clothes? And also feed his cat?

The typing bubble pops up and disappears a handful of times. Then, she finally replies:

-...what?

-Please Shade, it’s important. pleeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaassssseeeeeeeeeeee

-Moon Maiden, yes, calm down. I’ll come over to grab his keys.

“Okay, she said yes,” you tell Astarion as you put your phone back down on the counter and grab a sleeve of cinnamon raisin bagels from the drawer. He watches you carefully as you assemble your breakfast, almost like he doesn’t trust that you’ll actually do it if he looks away.

It doesn’t take long for Shadowheart to walk into your apartment without knocking. She’s wearing an oversized Next to Normal t-shirt and shorts. Her eyes first settle on Astarion sitting at the island in just his underwear and she stares blankly. When her gaze shifts to you, and she sees your puffy red eyes, she turns back to Astarion in a fury.

“What the fuck did you do?” she hisses, and you throw out your hands to stop her from committing murder. She stops just short of getting slathered in cream cheese from the knife still in your hand.

“Nothing, no, he’s good, I swear. Perfect, even.” You glance back at him abashedly. “No, it was just… Aradin stuff.” You mumble the last few words, and watch as Shadowheart’s anger deflates and then flares twice as high.

“Oh? Do I need to hunt this piss kid down?” she seethes, pumping herself up for a fight.

“No, she has forbidden murder, I already tried,” Astarion drawls, and Shadowheart’s expression dulls to a scowl.

“Fine,” she grumbles, then turns back to you. “Where am I going and what am I getting?”

“I’ll text you his address, just a change of clothes. Oh, and where do you keep His Majesty’s food?” You start typing out the message and Astarion takes your phone from your hand.

“It’ll be simpler if I give you instructions,” he says as he types out what looks like a novel. “Make sure you go to the fish market on Bleeker, not the one on Mayweather. And if they don’t have the nice fatty tuna, you can get the yellowtail, but only if it’s been caught within the hour. If they don’t have either, then ask for Thodric, he’ll know what to get.”

Shadowheart stares at him with a mixture of confusion and revulsion. “The little rat’s getting Fancy Feast and he’ll like it,” she finally says when Astarion hits send. You shoot her another pleading look and she groans. “Fine. Anything else for Your Majesty?”

“Oh, His Majesty is fine, but could you also grab my maroon cardigan and–”

“Gods, really?” she snaps. You’re chewing on your bagel when you finally process what she’s wearing.

“Wait, isn't that shirt–” you begin and she whirls around, her loose silver hair swinging down her back.

“I’ll text you when I’m on my way back,” she barks as she slams the door shut behind her.

***

You and Astarion spend the day together mostly in comfortable silence. Shadowheart does, in fact, give His Majesty the fresh fish he so desperately requires, but she only brings Astarion a pair of jeans and a black v-neck t-shirt. He grumbles a resentful thank you, even if she didn’t bring him the maroon cardigan.

You’re lying on the couch leaned up against Astarion, who has borrowed your tablet to grade papers while you answer work emails on your phone. You get another reminder from the chair about season selection and you groan.

“I swear, we’re not going to have a season next year if we can’t fucking agree on something,” you bemoan, dropping your phone and rubbing your eyes wearily. “Plus, the rest of them feel like we need to settle on a musical first and then build the season around that,” you gripe, crossing your arms like a petulant child.

“Well that’s nonsense, the musical is always just a garish over-produced spectacle,” Astarion scoffs.

“But it’s the thing that makes the most money, so we are kind of dependent on it, as much as I hate to admit it,” you concede reluctantly. “Alfira really wants to do Heathers, and I read it, I just can’t get behind it as much as the rest of the faculty. I want to make sure the classical play is in conversation with it, and I can’t think of an interesting choice.” You slide your eyes to Astarion with a smirk. “Lucretius suggested Hamlet and I would literally rather fling myself out a window than direct Hamlet.”

“Well now, I don’t believe self-defenestration is necessary,” he laughs. “But you’ve only read it? Aren’t you the one always going on about how theatre is meant to be seen and not read?” He mocks you a little too well and you smack his knee.

“Fine, I guess I’ll see if there’s a recording available,” you mutter, picking your phone back up and googling it. “Oh, there actually is. A proshot is available… on the Roku app? I swear to the gods, there are too many apps these days.” You sit up and turn towards Astarion. “Will you watch it with me? Pleeeeaaaassee,” you add in a whine when he gives you a pained look. “If we don’t like it we can make fun of it together, I promise. That’s a better deal than you’ll get from 95% of theatre people.”

He takes off his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose. “It’s bad enough you’re going to make me see it in the fall, you’re going to make me watch it again now?”

Your heart leaps at how casually he mentions still being together in the fall, but you quickly shake the feeling off. Instead, you divert his attention by offering, “What if Karlach and Shadowheart watched it with us? Karlach should probably watch it too, honestly, and then you and Shade can commiserate together as non-theatre people.”

He glares at you for another moment before putting his glasses back on and huffing a great sigh. “Fine,” he relents, adding with a glare, “you’re very lucky that you’re cute.” You giggle with delight and text Shadowheart.

-Do you wanna come over with Karlach tonight and watch Alfira’s pick for the fall musical? You can bond with Astarion over your love of expensive wine and the annoyances of dating someone in the theatre department.

-🍷👌🏻

You laugh at her response and go back to leaning against Astarion’s side, a small shiver running up your spine as he squeezes you a little closer to him.

***

Shadowheart and Karlach come by later in the evening, Shadowheart with two bottles of wine and Karlach loaded with snacks. They move around your kitchen, taking out bowls and glasses, while you take a sudden new interest in the ingredients for Doritos.

“And is it like, highly processed ingredients?” you frown as your eyes scan over the lines, some of the words familiar to you and some of them not. Astarion shrugs.

“I haven’t kept a detailed list of what’s fine and what isn’t, if that’s what you’re asking,” he drawls, looking over his glasses pompously, and you huff.

“Well then I’m going to eat them just to spite you,” you threaten, attempting to open the bag of Doritos menacingly. The gesture falls flat when you crunch down on a chip and it crumbles down your shirt. He takes the back of your neck in his hand and pulls your lips to his, his tongue swiping up cheese dust. You flush and he pulls away, contemplating the taste.

“Well it’s certainly not the most pleasant,” he finally decides, and you dejectedly put the chips down and pick up the wine Shadowheart has just poured. Astarion looks down his nose at the bottle.

“Decent choice,” he intimates with an approving look, and Shadowheart gives him a sideways glance.

“Ah yes, I heard you were a bit of a wine snob.” She tries to match his haughty energy, and doesn’t do a half bad job. “I saw what you brought,” she says, referring to the bottle still on the counter from last night. “It looks… fine.” The corners of his lips twitch upward and you can tell that he likes her, despite their constant bickering.

You and Astarion settle yourself on the couch while Karlach and Shadowheart sit on the floor. Karlach leans against the base of the couch, one knee propped up and an arm around Shadowheart’s shoulders. You smirk at your best friend, remembering your conversation of her insisting that she likes to sit on the floor, despite the fact that the two of you always sit on the couch together. Astarion, legs crossed and arm around you, pulls up the Roku app on your TV and finds the Heathers proshot.

September first, 1989. Dear diary:

A spotlight comes up on a young half-elf woman wearing a bulky denim jacket, big scarf, and a long hippie skirt. Veronica, it quickly becomes clear, is one of the more unpopular kids in school, along with her best friend Martha Dunstock.

“Wait, Veronica isn’t already one of the Heathers? And she’s already friends with Martha?” Shadowheart asks. The eponymous “Heathers” are the archetypical mean girls who rule over Westerberg High.

“No, is that how it is in the movie?” you reply. “I’m only vaguely aware of it, I just read the musical.”

“Interesting,” she muses, narrowing her eyes. “Yeah, she’s supposed to already be in the Heathers, and she doesn’t even speak to Martha until the last scene of the movie. I guess this way she gets a classic movie montage makeover.”

“That tells a very different story,” Astarion says, bouncing his foot slightly. “Following a protagonist who starts wealthy and popular rather than one who is an interloper into a position of power.”

“I wonder why they changed it,” Karlach says, and you nod in agreement.

“I can almost guarantee it was because of the success of Mean Girls and not simply a narrative choice they wanted to make,” you add, wrinkling your nose with distaste.

“Maybe,” Shadowheart takes a thoughtful sip of her wine. “Mean Girls was so heavily influenced by Heathers that it does seem like a nice homage.” She pauses for a moment, then giggles, “You know, I used to think that I had a crush on Christian Slater and I wanted to be Winona Rider, but it turns out it was the other way around.”

“Honestly, I think that tells me all I need to know about you,” Karlach teases.

Honey whatcha waiting for? Step inside my candy store. Time for you to prove you’re not a loser anymore.

The trio of Heathers pose centerstage, their synchronistic dance moves and bright color coordinated outfits creating a striking stage picture.

“Visually, it’s a nice stylistic choice,” Astarion notes, “but I wonder if the aesthetics will detract from the effectiveness of these three as antagonists.”

“Maybe,” Karlach says with a shrug. “But you know that Carm would have a field day with these costumes,” she adds, turning to look at you over her shoulder.

“Oh she absolutely would,” you agree, looking at their sharp blazers, plaid skirts, and thigh high socks. “But I think Astarion’s has a point, they’re almost too appealing to convey any real villainy. Plus, so many of these lines have become such an iconic part of pop culture that they’re almost meaningless. When the main Heather shouts, ‘Shut up, Heather!’ it feels more like she’s quoting a famous line than bullying her friend.”

“I’m sure Alfira will want to address that in the room,” Karlach nods.

Love this dead girl walking Love this dead girl walking Love this dead girl– Yeah– Yeah– Yeah– Yeah!!!!

After committing the social suicide of not bullying her unpopular best friend, Veronica decides she wants to go out with a bang – literally – and sneaks into the bedroom of resident bad boy JD. You still get an uneasy feeling about him as a character, but you’re trying to parse out your judgment of yourself versus your analysis of the text.

“Sorry,” Karlach shakes her head and holds out her wine glass, pointing at the screen. “Did we just witness that girl have a musical orgasm?”

“Surprisingly more common than you’d think in musical theatre,” you laugh, and Astarion pulls you into him until his lips are on your ear.

“Would you like to be my dead girl walking?” His voice is a husky whisper, sending a shiver reverberating through your body. You press your lips together and dig your nails into his knee to keep both of you in check.

-Oh my gods, I just killed my best friend! -Oh, and your worst enemy, so– -Same difference!

Veronica may have been the one to unknowingly hand a mug full of drain cleaner to the most popular and powerful of the mean girls, Heather Chandler, but JD was the one who knowingly handed it to Veronica.

“So they just immediately kill their primary villain?” Astarion scoffs in surprise. “Bold choice, I wouldn’t have expected it from a musical.”

“Oh don’t worry, she’ll be back,” you laugh. “Hey Karlach, who do you think should play Heather C?”

“Oooh, that’s a good question. I feel like it has to be Arabella, right? Who else has got the chops?” Karlach tilts her head to look at you.

“Arabella would also be really good as Veronica though,” you respond, shuffling through all of the theatre majors in your head. “Do you know if Mol is going to audition?”

“Maybe, but I think she wants to stage manage this fall.”

“Oh that makes sense, she’d be great at that,” you nod in agreement.

He’s hungry for a hunk Of the junk in your trunk

“Oh, weird. I don’t remember this song in the script I read,” you say with a frown. It was a while ago when you read it, but you’re pretty sure that this moment – when the high school jocks Kurt and Ram corner Veronica alone – felt a little more comedic and a little less sinister.

“Yeah, same,” Karlach says. “I feel like it was much sillier. Something about balls?”

“I think the hook was ‘you make my balls so blue.’” You try to force a laugh, but what’s playing out on screen is making you uncomfortable. The visual of the jock, Kurt or Ram, you can’t remember which, lewdly humping the air in front of a terrified Veronica doesn’t sit well with you. “This song being about date rape raises the stakes very differently from it being a blue balling joke.”

“Yeah, that’s so much more intense.” Karlach’s frown deepens as Veronica tries to pull her skirt down lower while the boys grab at her aggressively.

“I mean I get it, it’s a much stronger choice narratively, but we’ll have to be careful, give proper warnings and stuff.” You take a sip of your wine and Astarion gently rubs your shoulder.

“Okay, darling?” he hums in your ear. You nod but pull his arm around you a little tighter.

I worship you. I’d trade my life for yours. I’ll make them disappear.

There’s something so much more menacing about JD’s sung lines after having killed the jocks, Kurt and Ram, who tried to sexually assault Veronica. It makes your hackles raise, in part because you can see how toxic it is, but also because you can’t deny that it stirs something inside you. Just earlier today, you threw yourself at Astarion at the mere mental image of him murdering your abuser.

It’s okay if it’s just fantasy, Jaheira’s words ring in your head. Sure, someone saying that they worship you and committing homicide over it isn’t healthy in real life. But in a fantasy that isn’t hurting anyone?

But… how do you decide what’s harmful and what isn’t?

Can’t we be seventeen? Is that so hard to do?

After JD murders Heather Chandler and both Kurt and Ram out of a sense of misplaced righteousness, Veronica begs him to hold on to his youth a little longer and not let the trauma of his mother’s suicide make him grow up so fast.

You feel Astarion’s chest shaking slightly against your back. You glance up at him and his eyes are shining.

“Babe, are you crying?” you whisper and he glares at you.

“What? No. Shut up,” he spits as he wipes away a tear. You strain your neck and kiss his cheek.

VERONICA! Open the– open the door please, Veronica, open the door. Can we not fight anymore, please?

The repercussions of JD's streak of murderous revenge finally catching up with Veronica, she hides from him in her bedroom while he attempts to cry, scream, and sing his way back into her heart.

“This is the one,” you call out. “This is the song that’s all over TikTok with teenage girls saying that she should’ve opened the door.” The context is no different from when you read it – his violent outbursts mixed with unhinged sobbing still make for an energy that you don’t quite know how to respond to.

“I’m pretty sure they know it’s satire, it’s really over the top,” Karlach shrugs.

“Most of them probably do,” you say with a frown, remembering a concerning post that you saw somewhere that said ‘musical JD really loved Veronica while movie JD was just a manipulator.’

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” Astarion says, pointing with his nearly empty wine glass. “You’re telling me that young girls like this behavior? Why?”

Shadowheart snorts. “Apparently there’s something appealing about a pathetic wet cat of a man,” she laughs, and Astarion pouts.

I wish your dad were good, I wish grownups understood. I wish we’d met before They convinced you life is war.

Veronica is pleading with a gun-wielding JD to not blow up the school during the pep rally when something suddenly clicks for you.

“Oh my gods, that’s the thesis statement, that’s what this whole show is about.” You sit up with the realization. “It’s not about mental health, or bullying. I mean it is,” you falter a bit, the wine sloshing around your brain. “But at the root it’s the parents’ fault. All of the adults in this show have been neglectful at best and selfish and bigoted at worst.”

“You know, if you want a good classical play with that theme,” Astarion shrugs, “then you should propose Romeo & Juliet.” Your jaw drops and you whirl around to face him.

“Holy shit, you’re so brilliant, I love you.”

Hey yo, Westerberg, tell me what’s that sound? Here comes Westerberg, comin’ to put you in the ground!

Your whole body freezes as the blood drains from your face. Somewhat delayed, you slap a hand over your mouth to keep you from accidentally revealing anything else. Astarion stares at you, his mask completely expressionless. Karlach and Shadowheart seem to remain oblivious to the monumental tension between you and Astarion.

Westerberg will knock you out And send you straight to–

Fuck.

#bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #astarion #astarion ancunin #professor astarion #aatarion fanfiction #astarion x reader #astarion/reader #astarion x you #astarion/you #bg3 modern au #astarion smut #bg3 smut #baldurs gate 3 #office hours

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toxic3mmy · 2 days

Note

consensual somnophilia with alex?

somnophilia: the urge or desire to have a sexual encounter with a sleeping person

prompt: alex fucks you while you’re asleep

warnings! smut! [consensual]

it was finally the weekend. your best friend alex had asked you to come over to hangout and you obliged.

“hey lexie, wanna smoke?” you asked, as he let you into his home

“you already know my answer to that” he rolled his eyes playfully

the two of you sat on his back porch and passed a joint to one another.

as you smoked, your eyes got heavier and the two of you delved into deeper conversations.

“what do you think about… like weird stuff in the bedroom? like with a partner?” he asked you

“what, like shit kinks and feet kinks? definitely not for me” you giggled and alex shook his head

“no, well kinda. like.. there’s this specific thing that i kinda find interesting. it’s like when two people have sex but one is asleep and of course it’s consensual, but i was just wondering what you thought about that”

“hmm.. well honestly, i think that’s pretty hot. with someone you trust, it could be a fun experience, y’know?”

“yeah… yeah definitely. hey, thanks for not being weirded out by me bringing this up. i’ve never really mentioned it to anyone but i trust you” he said, almost as if hinting at something

“of course alex, i trust you too. you’re my best friend and we can always talk about anything at all. and for the record,” you said, getting the confidence to move closer to alex and whisper lowly, “i’d let you fuck me in my sleep”

“w-what? man, you’re just baked” he said incredulously

“no, well yes i am but i mean it. and i’m not saying it because i’m not sober. i mean it.. you’re my best friend, my other half. and god damn are you attractive. you’re so fit that i have to constantly stop myself from staring at you 24/7” your mouth was now running on its own, spilling out secrets that you’ve kept from alex

“y/n… now you’re definitely busting my balls…” he laughed shaking his head

“i’m not, i’m being completely serious lexie. i’m really surprised you haven’t noticed”

“i… didn’t know you felt this way about me… is it a sexual attraction or?”

“the sexual attraction is definitely there, but it’s always been more than that. i like the way you do anything to make me laugh. and i see the things you do that show me you care for me. i’m kinda crazy about you, alex. i don’t wanna make things weird between us and i really do understand if you don’t feel the same—”

“n-no!” he yelped making you jump slightly as his voice got loud

“i mean… nothing could break us apart y/n. to be honest, i um… i think of you, too… in many ways” and that made you smile

you shoved him playfully, “look at us being all mushy”

“yeah” he laughed “but um y/n?”

“yeah?”

“did you mean what you said? about letting me do things while you were asleep? consensually, of course..”

“i did mean it, but why don’t we slow down there, cowboy. start at the beginning” you said, bringing his face closer to yours

you inhaled from the joint in your hand, pressed your lips to alex’s and breathed the smoke into his mouth

“fuck, that was hot” alex chuckled, tracing his fingers along your jaw, bringing you in for a real kiss

your lips moved together slowly. he tasted so sweet. you felt his tongue asking to be let in. you moved your tongue alongside his and slowly began to suck on his tongue. this elicited small whimpers from alex and it really turned you on.

you pulled away as you felt the nighttime breeze pick up

“let’s get inside, it’s cold”

the two of you set up snacks in front if the sofa as you binged movies together. you’d get distracted here and there with wandering hands and long makeout sessions.

eventually, the weed in your system took over and you felt yourself falling asleep. alex was way too invested in the movie to even realize you’d passed out. he looked over at you and smiled at how peaceful you looked. he laid you down and placed a warm blanket over you. for the next hour, his attention remained on the tv.

“mmm lexie..” he heard you sigh in your sleep

he turned to look at you and reached his hand out to brush your hair away from your face. you nuzzled your cheek into his touch while still asleep. alex couldn’t resist running his fingertips down your body.

his hand inched up your shirt, pinching your nipples lightly and enjoying the way you whined in your sleep. he pushed your shirt up and replaced his fingers with his mouth, sucking on your hard nipples.

he was hovering above you, careful not to put his body weight on you as he grinded his hips into yours.

he was panting softly and you were still asleep. he threw the couch cushions aside and laid behind you as if he were cuddling you. he took his pants and boxers off, pumping his hard cock in one hand. his other hand slipped your sweatpants down without waking you. he moved your panties aside and began to rub his tip between your wet lips.

he slowly began entering you, feeling how tight and wet your pussy was. he moved slowly behind you with his hands on your hips. you started to shift in your sleep and he slowed his pace even more. once you settled, he sped back up.

his thrusts woke you up and before you could even open your eyes to realize what was happening. you were already letting out strings of filthy moans.

“f-fuck…”

“you like that, sweetheart? waking up with my cock deep inside your tight little pussy?”

“yes alex…”

“yeah, say my name again baby, i love the way it sounds on your lips”

“oh a-alexis… please…”

“that’s right, just like that baby, keep saying my name”

“alex, im so close”

“you can let go, sweet girl. i want you to make a mess all over my cock”

and that’s exactly what you did. you came and your tight hole quivered around your best friend’s cock.

his thrusts stuttered as he reached his climax. he pulled out and you felt him leaking out of you.

“you… you should do that more often” you panted, clinging to alex

“id love to, y/n”

you laughed and curled up into him, enjoying the closeness

alex cleaned you up and held you for the rest of the night.

#alex quackity #alexis quackity #quackity #quackity x reader #quackity fanfic #quackity x y/n #quackity smut

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sameschmidtdiffname · 1 day

Text

A Comfort or Two

Mike Schmidt x Gender Neutral! Reader

Summery: Vices never killed anybody.

Tags: No use of Y/N, no use of gendered pronouns for Reader, pre-established relationship, hurt/no comfort, Reader has ✨️issues✨️, this isn't a vent fic what are you talking about???, use of cigarettes, brief mentions of sleep medication, arguement, and this is barely proofread. (Read: Isn't.)

Notes: I have had writers block for three months. I shit this out in ten minutes. What the fuck?

Anyways, phone blapple teet.

▪︎◇{¤♧■♧¤}◇▪︎

"Since when do you smoke?"

The voice rings clear in the dead of night, the only sound surrounding us being the crickets chirping and mosquitos buzzing past my ears.

"I don't," I answer, taking another drag off the cigarette between my cold fingers.

Mike doesn't speak as he steps onto the patio, softly shutting the glass door behind him with a sort of 'thump' sound that it always makes when the door seals shut.

For a moment we don't say anything. Then I exhale, and the noise that makes must be his silent blessing to speak.

"American Spirits," he notes, too awkward to say what he really thinks.

"Turquoise," I say. I take another drag, then speak as I hold my breath. "You know how many people that work at gas stations don't know what the fuck turquoise looks like when you ask for a pack of this shit?"

He sucks his teeth. I wonder for a moment if he knows what the color looks like.

"Most people are pretty good on red, blue, yellow," he says.

Yeah, he doesn't know.

"Pretty warm out here for a sweater," he notes.

"I don't like bugs," I say, exhaling. "They pick at my skin, eat me alive. Sue me."

His foot scuffs the concrete, a nervous habit.

"Can I bum one?"

This makes me turn my head to look at him, almost glaring as I try to gage how serious his request is, looking him up and down in his undergarments before speaking.

"Seriously?" I ask.

"If we're having a cheat day, yeah. Count me in," he says, walking to sit beside me, crossing his legs and resting back on his palms, then readjusting as he decides he doesn't like the feeling of the gravel on his skin, brushing the pepples off on his shorts.

I shrug and scoff, but pick up my pack and open the flap, shuffling out a little bit of tobacco and then finding a paper, getting to work on rolling a cigarette for the man who watches me curiously.

"Why not buy pre-roll?" He asks.

"You gonna give me the extra money to buy pre-rolled?" I ask, my tone too dull to be sharp, but too pointed to be sarcastic. He relents, looking away.

"Bad day?" He asks after another moment of silence, daring to glance back at me.

"Not a good one," I answer around my own cigarette, then hold it between my left pinkie and ring finger so I can stick my tongue out to wet the paper so it'll stick together.

"You wanna talk about it?" He asks.

I don't acknowledge his question, instead picking off a spare bit of tobacco that sticks out from the end of the new cigarette, then put the leftover back in my pouch. I offer it to him, asking if he needs a lighter. He nods, and he takes it with such a gentle hand it's like I'm watching a 15 year old try to act cool for his sisters college friends or something.

I lean back, removing the cheap, purple BIC from my shorts pocket and hand it to him. It shouldn't irritate me how he looks at the items like he's completely clueless, failing to hide it as his brows furrow in thought.

"It's not gonna kill you," I say to him.

"I mean... they will," he says quietly.

There's another silent moment. He toys with the lighter, flicking it to life.

"Why purple?" He finally asks. I look at him, our eyes meeting. He doesn't look less tired than me, but he looks concerned more than anything, which irritates but sates me all at once.

I contemplate answering honestly. Take another drag, hold, exhale.

"When I graduated high school, I started fucking this guy. Awful man, great-" I pause. "Mediocre dick."

I don't say that for Mike's benefit, let me make that clear.

"But I thought it was great at the time. And I thought I liked him. And his favorite color was purple," I say.

Mike looks down at the lighter again, letting the flame die.

"We smoked together," I clarify. "I thought he would like it."

"So, you've had this since high school?" He asks, sounding slightly impressed.

"No," I say. "I just became the friend with the purple lighter, so I stuck with the theme. They're cheap, so it's easy."

He nods, then finally lifts the cigarette to his chapped lips, licking them and carefully holding it as he lights it. I watch, anticipating his coughing fit, which he tries to suppress after his first inhale, though there's already tears in his eyes. I look away, trying to let him pop his cherry in peace.

"Did he?" He asks in a very strained voice, sounding pathetic as he holds in his breath.

I furrow my brows, looking back at him. His face is red, his chest is trembling.

"You're gonna die," I point out, reaching to pet his back, rubbing right next to his spine, under his lung. "Hold your arms up, that'll help."

He obeys, exhaling and coughing so disgustingly it makes me grimace. But I just rub, trying to help him as he sounds like he's trying not to vomit. I should take the cigarette away from him, but I kind of don't want to. This is the D.A.R.E. exercise that works, in my opinion.

"Like it," he coughs out, gasping for clean air. "Did-"

"Okay, okay, I got it now," I reassure him, patting a bit harder on his back. He gives me a thumbs up, finally starting to recover, and sniffling back tears that threaten to trail down his face. This man is 25, by the way.

I sit back onto my palms, relaxing now that he isn't going to die. I let him recover for another moment, then watch as he decides to go in for another hit.

"He didn't," I answer. Mike does better on this inhale, not trying to act cool and letting himself cough, which helps extremely. "He didn't even notice it, and when I pointed it out he just told me it's his favorite color because girls thought it was cool."

Mike's brows furrow in disgust, and at first I think it's from the cigarette.

"Dick," he coughs, smoke pouring out of his mouth and nose, which must burn based off of how he picks at his nostrils, trying to wipe away the burning sensation.

I nod. "Yep," I say, popping the 'p.' Then there's silence again, me smoking, Mike trying.

Eventually, I reach the end of my stick and snub it out. Mike contemplates holding out, then decides against it. Probably for the best. He looks a little green around the gills.

"So, what makes you go out and buy loose tobacco and smoke like you're used to it?" Mike asks me, handing me back the lighter and remainder of his cigarette, which is warm in my palm.

"I don't even know," I sigh, looking down at the semi pregnant joint. Not my best roll. "I've just been exhausted lately."

"Work?" He asks. I shake my head. "Friends?"

"I don't know," I sigh irritablely.

"Is there-"

"Don't ask me what you can do, because everyone else had already asked and if I have to sit through another grilling on this shit, I'm gonna fucking bite someone's head off," I snap, raising my head to look at the fence in front of us, closing us in and providing privacy from the neighbors that drink too much and party too loud during football season.

Mike sucks his teeth again, looking down at his lap. "Think you just did," he points out quietly. But it's not to make me feel bad. The delivery is almost comedic, really. More for my entertainment than guilt.

"I'm sorry," I say softly, shame creeping into my stomach and making me bury my head in my hands. I try to think of something else to say, an explanation to give. But all I can say is a repeat, "I'm sorry."

Even though I can't see him, I know Mike's face softens. His arms encircle me gently, pulling me closer to him, smoke so wrongly mixed with the taste of mouthwash on his breath.

"Hey," he soothes. "It's okay."

"I'm just tired," I say in a strained voice.

"I know," he says.

"And my head hurts."

"I'm sorry."

"And I can't sleep at night."

Mike's quiet at that, trying to figure out what to say, what to offer. My insomnia isn't new, and he's offered his own sleep pills, but I decline everytime. I'm just glad by the time my leg starts bouncing enough to rock the bed, the medication has such a deep hold on him he doesn't appear to notice. I wonder if he feels guilty that he sleeps so much easier than I, a relief that escapes me.

"Have you been eating?" He asks.

I scoff. Rude.

"I'm serious," he says.

"Yes, I'm eating," I answer, not raising my head from my hands, my palms digging against my eyes.

"How much?" He asks.

"Michael-"

"I just want to make sure-"

"Don't baby me-"

"I'm not babying you-"

"Than what the fuck is this?" I ask, looking up at him.

"This is me being worried over you," he says as though it were obvious, furrowing his brows.

"Well, I don't fucking need it," I tell him, now trying to rise, but his hands hold me down, pissing me off.

"Hang on, let's talk about this-"

"What the fuck is there to talk about?" I snap, standing so abruptly it throws us both off balance.

Mike stares up at me incredulously, his mouth slightly agape. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" He asks me, his concern turning into a glare.

I don't answer, storming back into the house wordlessly as he calls my name, opening the door with strength I don't mean to use because it sends the glass sliding door ramming into the other side of the wall, but thankfully it doesn't break.

"Hey!" I can hear Mike's snap echoing sharply in the room, loud and making me flinch as I storm away. "You don't fucking slam that door!"

I don't respond, too irritated and guilt ridden to acknowledge him, my mind scrambled on locations of where I can run for comfort. My feet carry me automatically to the living room, my hand snatching my keys off the coffee table.

Mike calls after me again, demanding of me that I come back, that I talk about this. But I don't want to. These emotions inside of me, I don't even know why they exist, what they are, what part of my soul to bare to force them to go away.

I unlock the front door, and there's part of me that acknowledges I don't have a phone on me. I'll be on my own, alone. A state in which I used to never find comfort, but is now the only state in which I know how to exist in.

Mike grabs at me, a bit too rough to be appropriate. He's desperate, maybe angry, maybe scared of what will happen if I walk out that door. He's stronger than me, which makes me react in fear rather than logic.

I jerk my arm out of his grasp, but I have to use such force it sends my fist flying into my own face, my eye getting a good hit in the process, making Mike freeze temporarily.

It just makes me run out the door, into the night, scurrying into my car and turning the key quickly, leaving both of us to wonder where the hell I'm going and when I'll be back.

For both of our sake, I wish I had an answer. And I'm sorry that running feels better than staying.

I'd be a better person if I could be. If it could bring me comfort.

¤▪︎{♧}▪︎¤

Rawdogged this like I did your mom last night.

Taglist:

@cassiecasluciluce @gh0u1ishly @joshhutchersons-slut @schmidtsbimbo @sugarevans @wompwompwomp57 @jhutchissupercool @laurrrelise @sleepyhutcherson . Thank you for your support pookies!!! <3

•¤Masterlist¤•

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httpiastri · 9 hours

Note

is it too early to ask for a fic abt imola's sprint race and how upset and angry paul was after the race ...

idk if this is what u wanted but i just felt like writing this. hope u like it <3 (still very much not over what happened)

four podiums in four rounds.

a consistent result like that should make any f2 driver satisfied.

should.

consistency is key, as you've seen so often in formula racing, but how can you tell that to someone who was just closer than ever to getting his maiden win in formula two?

to say that paul was a wreck after the race is an understatement. he refused to talk to you or any of his staff members – he even refused to talk to ralf, which was more worrisome than everything else. though, it didn't take you long to realize that he just needed to cool off on his own, just get some time to breathe in peace. so when he went back to your shared hotel room, you decided to stay at the track a little to watch the f1 qualifying, just so paul could have his much-needed alone time.

when you finally step into your hotel room hours later, after having gotten stuck in several tailbacks on your way back from the track, paul isn't resting on the bed like you thought he would be. he doesn't answer when you call out his name either, which really gets your heartbeat going.

you find him in the bathroom when you peek into it, his body submerged in the bathtub filled to the brim with foam and seemingly steaming water. you're not sure if he's even heard you come in because he doesn't move a single muscle nor open his eyes. he slowly looks up at you when you say his name again, though, eyes holding so much pain that the knot in your stomach grows even tighter. you have to do something, anything, to break him out of this cycle.

"can i join?"

it takes a second for him to react, but then he nods, and you step into the room. you slip out of the cute summery dress you've worn all day, removing all of your last clothing items aswell as your jewelry before moving towards him. the bathtub is tiny, nowhere near than ones you've shared before in luxury hotel rooms around the world. there's barely any space left for you to slip in, but you make it work.

the second your back meets his chest, his strong arms wrap around you and a content sigh leaves his mouth. neither of you care about the water flowing past the edge as you shuffle into his embrace; a wet floor is a problem for later. the bath soap he's used smells lovely, a mix of vanilla and rose meeting your nose and making you forget about how the water is burning your skin already. paul doesn't say anything, although he rests the side of his head against yours, warm breaths tickling the skin of your neck.

you take the opportunity to speak when you're met with it. you can't just let it go on like this all night. "do you... want to talk about it?" you ask, voice low as if not to scare him. as if the mere thought of the race is enough to scare him.

he lets out a hum. "no."

you pause for a few moments, considering the idea of just letting go of the topic. you decide that you can't. "can i talk about it, then?"

"i can't stop you, can i?"

you lift one of his hands from your waist, letting your pointer finger trace along his own fingers. they're pruney and soft, revealing how long he must've been in the bath already, while the calluses along the upper part of his palm from endless hours of racing and weightlifting stay hardened. you slot your fingers in between his, wrapping your other hand around the back of his hand too.

"no matter if you like to hear it or not," you begin. "you did well. that was an amazing race."

"but-"

a dismissive sound bubbles from your throat to cut him off. "no buts. it could've just as well gone your way today." you shift in his hold and turn your head so that you can look into his pretty blue eyes, and he already looks much calmer than before. "it's okay to fall apart, but we're building you up stronger for tomorrow. okay?"

his breath rises with his deep breath, and he soon nods. you lean in to press a kiss to his cheek, and then you can't help but to give him another one. and another. and one to the tip of his nose, one to his forehead, one to that spot right by his temple that he loves so much.

finally he smiles, and he looks almost relieved to do it; like it's been ages since he had something to be happy about. he even lets out a small laugh when you keep up with your pecks, and he has to place a hand on your cheek to halt your actions.

he guides you forward, slotting your lips against his, before letting his hand glide to the back of your neck to keep you close.

hopefully you've actually gotten through to him. in the world of f2, every setback feels like tall mountain you have to climb; losing a race lead is like reaching the summit only to slip right back down again. it sounds like an impossible task, and if it were up to you, you would tell him to save himself the heartbreak and get an easier job. but racing is what he loves.

and together, you make it work.

no matter if it's about fitting into a small bath or coming back better the next day.

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allforrafe · 23 hours

Note

hii luv<3

so I was thinking about a request, I don't have a lot, but something with Rafe, where she's like super shy and sensitive, very introverted, and doesn't really like being around other people, like she always says how much she hates everyone else, and only likes Rafe. and everyone thinks it's weird cause he's like an asshole to everyone else, lol. but she's like always on him, on his arm or his leg, very clingy, and she gets all teary and sad when he tries to leave.

just a little thought :)

Hi ml! This is such a cute concept like rafe would def be so sweet to u, unlike how he usually treats others!!

Pairing: bf!rafe and antisocial!reader

Word count: 436 words !!

Warnings: use of nicknames, ignorant reader idk

Pulling up to the house, you step out the car, displeased with your boyfriends antics. Its safe to say you weren’t a ‘people-person’, but you’d go anywhere as long as rafe was by your side. walking through the houseparty, you slide your way through the crowd, head down, fiddling with your rings to distract yourself from the overwhelming amount of socialising taking place around you.

You look around in search for him. Across the kitchen, a familiar head can be seen slightly above the majority of the crowd, your tall boyfriend talking to his friends.

“Rafey?” You say, just checking it was him and not some stanger you didnt want to do so much as look at. His head turns to you, “my sweet baby”, his soft voice being a familiar sound, a comfort sound if you will. You rush forward, your arms latching around his waist faster than he could tell you to do so, as his arm rests comfortably across your shoulders.

“Im sorry i didnt come earlier, i saw the amount of people and winced” you admit, rafes sympathetic smile looking back down at you, “its okay sweetheart, im sorry i made you come”. You shake your head dismissively. “It’s all good, just don’t leave me alone, ‘kay?”

He nods, turning you around to face the group. They all greet you, your response being a subtle smile in an attempt to steer clear of any social interactions.

Throughout the night, you stay glued to rafe, clinging onto his arm, waist, neck, anything you could grab hold of really.

Once he finishes his neat whiskey, he looks down to you, his gaze tracing every inch of your skin, “I gotta go use the bathroom m’love” his soft lips graze yours briefly.

“But-“, you say, a frown growing ever so quickly on your face, “I’m coming with you.”

Rafe chuckles, shaking his head, “you can’t just walk into the bathroom with me baby”

After your petty back and forth arguing, you sit on the kitchen side, the overwhelming crowd filling the room. Your boyfriend’s buddies attempting to make conversation, “yo y/n?”. You glare at the boy, folding you arms, eyes on the bathroom, waiting as patiently as you possibly could for rafe to get back.

After a long 5 minutes, the door unlocks and you slide off the counter. “That was mean” you pout as rafe walks over. You sling your arms around his neck and nuzzle your face in his chest. His arms snake around your neck, holding you close to him, his body heat warming you.

“Just can’t live without me m’love, can you?”

i really hope this is good bc im like 100% sleep deprived writing this :)

please send in more requests i love writing these!!!

#allforrafe #rafe cameron #anon ⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚#outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe fic #rafe smut #rafe cameron smut #drew starkey

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transcest-snuffbait · 1 day

Note

Little bro again. You're so hot, I can't stop stroking my cock to this...

I knew it was over the very moment my cock touched your boycunt. Before I even slid in, before I felt how tight you were. How wet. How warm. Before I felt how you tightened around me when I breathlessly called your name... "Adam..." I'd called your name hundreds, if not thousands of times before. But this was different.

Looking down at my big brother, dick in hand, feeling your warm slick against my cockhead... I knew I'd never be able to have a "normal" sex life. Knew that nothing could possibly match the euphoria of burying myself inside my older brother. We'd always been close, but being this close was ecstasy. I didn't know anything could feel this good. It was supposed to be wrong, but how could anything that felt this good be wrong?

After I bred you for the first time, cock softening inside you, brain still flooded with endorphins I knew I needed more. Needed to taste you, needed more of your cum, needed to cum again myself. When I buried my face between your legs, I couldn't help but feel I'd found my home. My place. Your slick and cum tasted better than anything I'd ever tasted before. Suddenly there was a new flavour... "What's that?" I wondered - before realizing it was my own seed that I'd put inside you. Damn, that tastes good too. I'd never tasted semen before, and our cum mixing together was intoxicating.

Eventually you got frustrated with trying to maneuver both of us in my twin bed. You grabbed me by the nuts and led me down the hall into mom and dad's bedroom. Their king-sized bed was bigger than either of ours, after all. I was so eager to please; I etched each instruction into my mind so I could study them like scripture.

You lost track of how many times you came on my cock and in my mouth. By the end I was shooting blanks. You must have passed out at some point, because when you awoke again it was dark outside. We fucked all day, and maybe into the night. With your younger brother's cock filling you up, time had stopped ticking.

I'm laying on my side behind you, arm draped around you holding you close and sleeping soundly. I shift a little, and you realize that my boner is gently pressed against your ass. The realization makes your pussy twitch. Ow! You're sore from the day of breeding, but you feel yourself precumming.

Who knows how long of a break we've had... but if you're getting wet and I'm hard, it must be time to go again? Right?

Literally, I am saving this for later so I can cum to it again — Fuck.

My all-night escapades with my little brother had been everything I’d ever wanted and more. Newfound way of looking at him, newfound need to have his cock inside me as much as possible. I never knew I’d be this much of a cockwhore, especially when it came to my literal little brother, but I wasn’t complaining.

We’d just have to make sure mom and dad didn’t find out, right?

I found myself dreaming possessively about my little brother when I did fall asleep in our parents’ bed with him. It was so heavenly, such a treat to pass out from being fucked so intensely. Just like I’d wanted, my little bro had given it to me. It was a revelation of biblical proportions. I could just make you fuck me whenever I wanted now, now that you were hooked on boycunt. And you’d have mine to obsess over the whole time our parents were gone.

I shift as I sleep, waking up to your boner on my plump little ass cheek. My pussy twitches, suddenly needy again. You just bred me all day and into the night, but what if I want more? It couldn’t hurt now, not after everything else we’d already done.

I turn to face you, gently pushing you to lay in your back and climbing up into your lap. Working your cock to full hardness, I slide it back into its home in my boy-snatch, groaning deeply and tossing my head back in ecstasy. “Fuuuuuck…” I breathe out, starting to bounce on top of you. I see you start to wake up but I don’t really care. I wanna ride my little brother’s big boy cock again, I need it. I need it, I need it, I fucking need it.

I moan and whine in tune with my own bouncing, my pussy throbbing from our previous fucking. It’s sore as fuck but god does it feel so fucking good. Why the fuck does it feel so good?

I see you wake up more and place your hands on my hips. “Cmon, help me out, bounce me really hard. Like.. really fucking hard. And thrust your hips up. I need you to fuck me hard again.”

My sweet little tits bounce with me, nipples perked up excitedly.

#ftm breeding #ftm nsft #ftm t4t #t4t kink #ftm ns/fw #t4t nsft #trans t4t #ftm bottom #ftm puppy #ftm sub #asks #trans fauxcest #fauxc3st #somno fantasy #fauxcest #transcest

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wolfawaycamp · 2 days

Note

Rylan gets together during camp. After finding out, Chris gives Dylan a (very light) shovel talk.

🐰 turns out that I CANNOT be brief talking about these two but I hope you enjoy nonetheless. :3

The green rectangle of the swimming pool glowed like an emerald in the night, its undisturbed surface both tranquil and tantalizingly forbidden, as Dylan and Ryan made their way to the low brick wall surrounding it, to the the torn panel of the chainlink fence. It had taken Dylan the better part of three weeks to convince Ryan to give him a shot, but now that he finally had, Dylan was working on convincing him to bend a rule or two in the name of some harmless fun.

It was a sweltering July night, stuffy even at this elevation in the Catskills, and Dylan had floated the idea of a night swim without really expecting his new boyfriend to take him up on it. Ryan rarely did anything he thought might displease their boss. But even the camp-leader’s pet struggled to sleep in this heat, and perhaps Ryan was finding it difficult to resist the temptation of a little one-on-one time between the two of them. Dylan could flatter himself by thinking so, anyway.

He climbed easily onto the top of the low wall and held a hand out to Ryan, hauling his boyfriend up next to him. “Mr. H should really get this fixed,” Dylan said, grinning like a Cheshire Cat in the moonlight, “seems like an insurance liability for the pool to be this accessible. An attractive nuisance, I think they call it.”

“You’re an attractive nuisance,” Ryan teased, shoving Dylan off the edge of the wall and jumping down after him.

“Hmm, all I hear is that you think I’m attractive.” Dylan preened, winking over his shoulder at Ryan, who shoved him again, playfully, closer to the pool.

“The emphasis was on the ‘nuisance’ part,” Ryan countered, and Dylan shot him a fake pout. Ryan grabbed Dylan by his shirt, pulled him in for a kiss that was soft and warm and perfect—albeit entirely too short—and, fuck, he could really get used to that. “Of course I think you’re attractive, you massive dork. I’m dating you, aren’t I?”

Ryan could be pretty direct. Dylan was pretty into that. “Well, every time you say that, I end up pinching myself to see if I’m dreaming and, unbelievably, I’ve been awake every time, so I think the answer is yes.”

Ryan shook his head, but one of those cute little half-smiles tugged upwards at the corner of his mouth, even as he turned away in a failed attempt to hide it.

“So, how long d’you think it takes for the pool to cycle through enough fresh water so that it’s less than one third urine?” Dylan asked, staring into the deep end.

Ryan’s nose crinkled in disgust. “Okay, gross, you talked me into getting in there with you and now you’re talking about urine.”

“I’m just stating facts, man. You know the kids pee in there. They just do. That’s why the chlorine smell is so strong. Pure chlorine doesn’t even smell like that. It’s a chemical reaction between the chlorine and the ammonia in urine and sweat and stuff, gives off these chemicals called chloramines and that’s what you smell in the pool.”

“That’s enough professor, you’re ruining chlorine smell with your chemistry bullshit and it’s one of my favorite smells! Stop saying the word ‘urine’ and take your shirt off.” Ryan emphasized this by taking his shirt off and Dylan didn’t think he’d ever get tired of gazing at a shirtless Ryan for as long as he lived.

“Okay, yeah, I hear you, less chemistry,” Dylan pulled his own t-shirt off over his head, “more, uh, chemistry.” He waggled his eyebrows, hoping the feigned swagger was convincing enough.

Ryan ignored the quip and dove into the pool. Dylan followed, hurling himself gracelessly into the water with a laugh. The pool was still warm from the day’s sunlight, but getting wet made the air feel cooler when they back came up, at least.

“Keep your voice down,” Ryan shout-whispered, “Chris’ll freak if he catches us out here.”

“Oh, come on, what’s he gonna do, fire us?” Dylan flicked water at Ryan who splashed a little back at him. “We’re already understaffed. I’d like to see the old boy try to work the PA system, do all the scheduling, and teach all those sailing classes himself.”

“He probably could do the sailing,” Ryan reasoned, “he’s the one who taught me when I was a kid.”

“Yeah, but now he’s like 100, no way he could haul kids out of that lake like you do.” Dylan put a hand on Ryan’s upper arm and even this chaste contact sent a thrill running through his entire body. They hadn’t been together long and they’d barely ever been alone together. Getting to touch Ryan at all still felt like a privilege. “No way he has the upper body strength.”

“Stop talking about Mr. H,” Ryan said, “stop talking, period,” and Dylan might have taken offense if it hadn’t been clear from his tone and the look in his eyes, the way he’d come closer and angled his face upward towards Dylan’s, that Ryan had other plans for their mouths—better plans.

Dylan nodded, leaning in close, and then… a beam of blinding light landed on them from the other side of the fence. Ryan jumped away from Dylan as though he’d been electrocuted and Dylan ducked his head under the surface of the water as if he could hide, as if they hadn’t already been seen.

He surfaced to the sound of Mr. Hackett shouting, “Ryan, Dylan, out of the pool, please.”

Dylan risked a glance at his boyfriend and had to stifle a laugh at Ryan’s wide-eyed expression. As the chastened boys exited the pool and tried to quickly towel dry and wring out their trunks while still wearing them, Ryan whispered, “I told you we were gonna get caught!”

“Yeah, yeah, save it. You can gloat later.” Dylan whispered back, pulling on his shirt and cringing a little at how it stuck to his damp torso.

“I am not gloating! It’s not like I wanted us to get in trouble!”

Dylan clambered onto the wall and helped Ryan over again and Ryan immediately fell all over himself to apologize to their boss, who was standing there in his usual head-to-toe khaki ensemble as the two boys dripped miserably in front of him.

“I’m really sorry Chris, I…” Ryan began, and Mr. Hackett, flashlight in one hand, held the other up to silence him.

“I don’t wanna hear it. Ryan, you go straight back to your cabin right now, I’d like to have a word with Dylan.”

“Hey, no, it was my idea,” Ryan lied, and Dylan immediately corrected him, doing his best to ignore the warmth that spread through him at Ryan’s attempt to take the blame.

“It was definitely not his idea,” he said simply.

“Look, I don’t care whose idea it was, you both broke a rule and you’re in the same amount of trouble. And we will talk about it in the morning. Ryan, go to bed.”

Dylan and Ryan gave each other a nod, resigned to their fates, and Ryan headed back to his cabin. Dylan turned to face the camp leader, who had begun walking toward Dylan’s cabin on the far end of the circle near the radio hut. He wasn’t speaking now, so Dylan broke the silence.

“So, uh, am I… fired?”

“No, god no. Dylan, nobody’s fired! I haven’t fired Jacob or Emma for any of their antics yet, why would I start with you?” Mr. H asked and Dylan had to admit this was a fair point. “I wouldn’t even care about you two being in the pool,” he went on, “if I didn’t have to worry about the kids in your cabins needing something while you were distracted.”

“Oh, right. Okay. Then, uh, what did you wanna talk about?”

“You and Ryan, you’re obviously involved and I just… I want you to be careful, okay?”

Oh. Oh no. Oh no. Was Dylan’s boss trying to have a safe sex talk with him right now? Had he had it with Ryan already? Well, this was mortifying. He thought he might rather have been fired. Plus, what was the point if they kept getting interrupted before anything worth getting a lecture over could even happen?

“We’re not, I mean, we haven’t, y’know, not yet anyway…” Dylan floundered, his cheeks flushing, “we haven’t really had time, but if we ever did, I mean I’m sure we will and, when we do, then we’ll definitely be…”

“No, that’s,” Mr H. chuckled awkwardly, “that’s not what I meant, although you definitely should, uh, use protection. And, please don’t do… that when you’re on the clock. But what I meant was, be careful with his feelings.”

“His… feelings?”

Dylan blinked at him blankly. Of all the outcomes he’d imagined for this relationship, him hurting Ryan’s feelings had never even occurred to him. In fact, Dylan had thought the most likely scenario would involve his own heart getting pulverized in the end.

“I’ve known Ryan for years. He’s like a… close family friend at this point,” Mr. H said, and Dylan only realized when he finished the statement that he’d been expecting him to say Ryan was like a son to him, but he hadn’t. “I don’t know how much he’s told you about his family life.”

“Not a lot, actually,” Dylan admitted.

“Well that’s his decision, but I don’t think he’d mind me saying that it hasn’t always been easy for him. Feels like he’s maybe looking for some kind of stability. And that’s not always something you can get out of a relationship when you’re this young. I remember being your age, everything feels really intense. I just… don’t want to see him get hurt.”

“Mr. H., I—I really like Ryan,” Dylan said, feeling awkward as hell but being very earnest, “I’m trying my best not to fu—uh fumble this, okay? And you’re kind of… well you’re sorta freaking me out, actually, but I, um, appreciate the sentiment, anyway. I don’t want Ryan to get hurt either.”

“Well, that’s good to hear. Because I think Ryan really likes you too.”

“You do?” Dylan swallowed. “What, uhh, what makes you think that?”

“Because,” Mr. H smiled, “he just lied to my face trying to keep you out of trouble. That kid never lies. He’s… really bad at it.”

“Oh. Yeah, he really is,” Dylan agreed. “Wait, Mr. H, is this the part where you tell me you know a guy who can make me disappear if I do anything to hurt him?” Dylan laughed, softly, at his own joke, but Mr. Hackett didn’t.

The camp leader let out a long-suffering sigh instead, clapping the young man on his damp shoulder. “Let’s just both hope it doesn’t come to that, Dylan, hm?”

#the quarry #dylan lenivy #ryan erzahler #chris hackett #rylan #radioheads #the quarry fanfic #precanon Rylan #ficlet #asked and answered #🐰#short form but probably overly long lol #Dylan gets the shovel talk #Chris does know a guy #he knows a few guys

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chiropteracupola · 2 years

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more undead keith because writing this thing has taken over my life

(and a chunk of said Thing under the readmore...)

The quiet moment passes, the faint cries of night-flying shorebirds distant on the air, and Keith watches them as they drift by. There are no boats left in readiness on Morar beach tonight, nor are the distant sails he recalled visible in the slot where the bay meets the sea. Disappointment upon disappointment — not only is he dead, but his usefulness at this post has evidently perished for the moment as well. His discomfort extends beyond the internal in that moment, as an odd twisting sensation curls its way through his cheek. Keith winces against it, his mouth curling half against his will as the out-of-place, crawling feeling moves upwards towards his cheekbone.

Looking down at his grave-muddied hands, his blood-marred waistcoat, panic fills him as understanding dawns, and he claws frantically at the source of the sensation. He digs his fingernails deeper against his face, and with a quick harsh motion, pulls a thin grey worm free of the hole in his cheek. Cursing, he flings it away and tries to tidy himself as best he can. There’s not as much dripping as he had briefly worried there might be, except for that slick half-dried mess all down the front of his waistcoat. Whoever had buried him had done it hastily, not stopping to neaten up the corpse beforehand. And lucky for him that they had, too — it would have been far more trouble to get free had the grave been any less shallow.

Unsettled again by the revelation of his decayed state, Keith folds to sit on what was previously his grave, elbows resting on his knees and his hands beneath his chin in a manner that purposefully avoids any further exploration of the new holes in his face. Gathering himself somewhat, he attempts to get his bearings. How long had he been buried? This is the question he prefers, for how long has he been dead only raises further and worse questions.

The moon has shifted significantly since he had seen it last, now stretching to form a broad arc of light against a sky as tossed with clouds as the sea might be with waves. But that means little to Keith at this moment. He has no idea of how long he had spent insensible and under earth, and no way of measuring out that time. By the turn of the moon, it could have been anywhere from a few days to a handful of weeks, or even more.

A consultation of his watch does him no good, for he has found already that it is gone entirely, as is his purse. Whoever had buried him had taken little care enough with his body, but had made a quick enough search of it for valuables, for there is little now left of any such thing. Wrapping his arms around himself against the sudden further chill, Keith notices that the epaulette has been cut from the shoulder of his coat. An odd enough choice of twofold theft and humiliation, but one that cuts at him just as decisively as the knife itself had taken hold in wool and in gold bullion, for in that instant Keith recalls that in his death, he had been forced into that decision that he had been so hesitant to make in life.

He had not known, then, that those were to be his last few minutes as a man living and breathing, hale and whole. It was not a proper soldier’s grave he had been given, without even the honor of a coffin to protect his body briefly from the scavengers and creeping insects that would have surely come for him had he remained much longer in the grave. Keith Windham, major though he was, has been abandoned again on the shore of Morar, hidden away out of sight to hide the failure of all involved. And now that he has risen from that death-marked secrecy, would he be any more desired? Would the garrison want a man with death-dripping holes in his face and a rotted, shambling walk, and beyond that, a man who had now disgraced himself twice over?

He had done the best he could for king and country, but could not say that he had given his life fully in their service. A year before, he would have thought it a fit price and a fit gift, to die beneath King George’s banner, for such was the other side of the coin of his expected fate. Toss the silver shilling, watch it spin in the air, catch it in sure sword-callused hands and see how it lands — one side is victory, the other side death.

But the wheel of the year had turned, and Keith Windham has been made to turn with it, swept off his feet by the rush of it as the seasons shifted and carried him along on each battle’s sweeping tide. Had it really only been a year? Keith counts out the days, estimating turning to guessing once again. It had been mid-August when he had set foot in Scotland for the first time, and mid-August again at the last. Somewhere in that year, the bright shilling of his fate has been melted and recast, king’s-head and crest turning to images indiscernible to Keith’s eyes.

Despite it all, it is still easy enough to put it away again, to slip the coin of fate into a pocket and carry it without feeling much of the weight of it at all. Keith is well practiced at such things; he drags himself upright and walks on, the cold weight of the far future no longer heavy in his hand.

#em draws stuff #em writes stuff #the flight of the heron #keith windham #trying to do a) more loose sketchy stuff like this b) landscape practice #it is Difficult because my instinct when it comes to non-forested mountains is just to draw my beloved san gabriels all the time #'might as well be chapparal' says my brain as I shout that that is not in fact the case #this is a warm-up more than anything but I really like how it turned out. keef <3 #and maybe also I am procrastinating a couple of big projects that genuinely require effort and care #so instead I scribble scribble scribble this sad wet cat man #undead!keith au scribbling has been pretty much occupying my whole skull for the past two weeks and deserves more art #at some point I want to do an entire fic with section headings in this style... I think that'll probably be saved for the tam lin au though #this one's rather beyond my illustrative skill on account of the. ah. Wormsmeat.#that said. it is loud in my brain and I need to be Saying Things about it at all times or else it'll just be me waving my hands ambiently

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aftermathing · 25 days

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The worst thing about suffering is that it still hurts when the danger is over but no one cares about it anymore because it shouldn't hurt. No one will ever say "I'm sorry that happened to you" especially when they barely say "I'm sorry that's happening."

#Okay to tb btw all the personal stuff is in the tags #Like. Not eating for a week because you couldn't get groceries hurts #and people will say 'oof sorry that's happening' but then #after you're able to get food no one will ever say 'I'm sorry that happened' even though you think about it and hurt from it constantly.#No one will ever say ':( that must have been so hard' because you're fine now right???? No psychological damage there?????#This example is stupid but I do think about it every time I feel hungry. I told people I wasn't able to get groceries #and there was no food in my house. And they said. Oof.#Instead of idk Oh God Are You Okay ??#No one cares when you've been abused your entire life and behave the way you do out of genuine terror because your brain is fucked forever #They don't say 'I'm sorry that happened it must have been really scary to turn you into Such An Asshole. I pity you like a dog :('#Speaking of man everyone loves fucked up abused terrified dogs and wants to be the one who makes them open up #And shows them that people can be good and kind and that touch doesn't have to hurt #But everyone is scared of fucked up abused terrified people #Humans are capable of harm even more than dogs and fear is understandable but.#Can you please call me good boy and shush me and tell me nothing's going to hurt me and let me curl up on your lap #And not hit me if I get scared and start to growl and feed me good and take me on walks and play with me #Even though I'm not very fun to play with and I'm still learning what's fun and what's mean and what's a toy and what's a hand #Plleeeaaase don't be jealous of a dog that doesn't eat good don't say 'tch he's so thin what am I doing wrong'#I want to eat good and grow and gain fat and be warm and be comfortable I don't want this #Don't say 'if abused dogs don't eat good then I don't deserve to either' no no no no eat good so you can take care of us both #Please please please I learned so many tricks to make people happy and call me smart but I don't actually know how to do anything I'm #Literally like such a stupid dog it takes me like one day of no one paying attention to me for me to become un-housebroken #I make a lot of mistakes even though I know better or I really should know better #And sometimes do things wrong on purpose to get attention either yelling or showing me how to do it right #But most of the time I genuinely don't know how to do stuff because I was never taught or I was taught and #My previous owners said 'this is how it is. It is this way because it is and it is forever. The answer is Because.'#'now quit asking repetitive questions before I pop you'#If I do something Because and not know the reason why I'm doing it that's not learning that's acting #Especially habits taught specifically to hurt me and not being allowed to question it or know why I'm being hurt #Oh my god I acted out so much when I was younger and all my friends were so disgusted and hurt by me and yelled at me every day

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nanaslutt · 7 months

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Can we get a part 2 of when reader asks satoru and suguru if they fucked before

of course ml!! tysm for asking <3

part 1 here~

contains: fem reader, fluff, crack, choking, hair pulling, anal sex (gojo gets fucked) spanking (geto spanks gojo once), dirty talk, overstimulation, dacryphilia if you squint, dare i say sub satoru, sub/dom dynamics if you squint, suguru and reader are competitive, u tag team gojo together

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

“so, when we’re you guys gonna tell me you’ve fucked before?” you asked, raising your eyebrows

gojo froze in place, pausing his efforts to get a towel to clean you up, he slowly turns to you, faux innocence on his stupidly pretty face, a big hand coming to rub the back of his neck

both you and geto stare at him, a smirk plastered on sugurus handsome features, heavy hand holding up his head, awaiting his response,

“now what on earth put that idea in your pretty little head?” he questions, hand falling on his hip sassily as he does an absolutely awful job lying

“oh i don’t knoww,” you drawl, pretending to think, “maybe geto telling you he was going to fuck you like it was the most normal thing in the world,” you scrunched your nose, shrugging

“but what do i know!” your eyebrows raised, suppressing a smile,

“nothing, you know nothing,” he replied, wiggling his finger back and forth in front of him like a child

“don’t tell me you forgot satoru, you might hurt my feelings.” geto teased, from his place between your calves, tilting his head to the side, “i know we were a little tipsy, but you told me i was an unforgettable fuck.” he pouted, faking offense, “you weren’t lying to me were you?”

satoru’s hand still on his hip like the sassy man he was, his mouth just flopping open and closing like a fish out of water, trying to think of a quick retort but failing to come up with anything, because the raven haired man was right

he was a truly unforgettable fuck

“now my feelings are hurt, he didn’t say I was an unforgettable fuck..” you pouted, crossing your arms over your bare chest,

“your mouth almost sucked the soul out of me,” he echoed from the hall

he had taken the opportunity of getos attention on you while he was ‘consoling’ you to slip out of the room, walking back in with a few damp towels, “course you’re an unforgettable fuck, way more than that monkey brained freak,” he hisses at geto, sitting next to you on the bed, using the warm towel to wipe his cum from your cheeks,

“oh? really?” geto let his head fall from his hand, landing against your knee, squinting his eyes at satoru while the blonde continued cleaning down your body, wiping up any fluids the two men had left

“think i remember making you cum..how many times was it again? 4? you were shooting blanks before i was even done with you” he smiles, rubbing your knee fondly with his strong hand while staring at gojo challengingly,

gojo looks away from your breasts, staring back into geto’s deep brown eyes,

“n they only made you cum once..” suguru mumbles into your knee,

“woah! woah, okay, I didn’t know i was competing with you in the first place!” you defend yourself, front half of your body shooting up, making gojo sigh as you accidentally knocked his hand back, “‘s not about quantity anyways, it’s about quality” you said smugly,

“n toru here, said I almost made him die so id say my quality is michelin star,” you proclaimed, narrowing your eyes at him before gojo pushed ur torso back down,

“i’m surrounded by a buncha babies jesus christ,” gojo shakes his head, pulling your leg out of sugurus grasp to access your leaking cunt better, pressing the harsh cloth against you and wiping you as gently as he could,

“sorry,” he winced for you in sympathy when you groaned out a protest, trying to close your legs on his hand at how painfully sensitive the rough towel made you feel, “anyways, you’re both good in bed, kay?” he continues,

“when suguru fucks me, it feels like my fucking guts are getting all messed up to make room for his stupidly big cock,” looking up through his lashes at sugurus smug expression, then back down to focus on what he was doing before making eye contact with you,

your arms still crossed over your chest, “n your throat squeezes me so fucking good i thought i was seein the pearly gates,” hand coming up to pinch your cheek, discarding the towel somewhere on the floor, standing once more to look for someone’s shirt on the floor he can put on,

“ ‘fucks’ as in you’ve had sex multiple times?” you stared in disbelief between the two of the large men, before settling your eyes on suguru

continuing your teasing you spoke up again, “and my compliment still sounded better,” you challenged him, a smug looks gracing your features

“you think so?” the raven haired man scrunched his eyebrows together, before turning his head to look straight at gojo’s supple bent over ass as he picked up a shirt and started to pull it over his head, “well, only one way to be sure which of us is really better.” he says to you quietly before standing

coming up behind gojo and grabbing his raised arms, preventing him from putting on his shirt, “hold that thought satoru, we’re in the middle of a little debate right now” yanking the shirt from satoru’s hands and throwing it back to its prior home on the floor,

“think you can help us? hmm?” he whispers, right into the shell of his best friends ear, sending goosebumps down his neck, “we’ll make it worth your while.”

———————————————————————

almost two hours later and the three of you were still in the same room, on the same bed,

gojo on his back, suguru fucking his cock right into his prostate as you face gojo, bouncing on his overstimulated dick, a thick ring of yours and his combined cum on the base of his overstimulated cock,

“c-cant cum anymore p-please- haaah- fuck please!” gojo whimpers out, thrashing his head back and forth on the sheets as fat tears drip down his face, making his cheeks shine under the light, “‘s too much ‘m too sensitive, ohmygodd” he drags, curses spilling from his lips one after another, his hold on your grip sure to leave nasty bruises as his hips fuck into your warm cunt without his brains permission,

“not till you tell us who’s better,” geto emphasizes with a heavy thrust, hand coming up to choke you out while he gives gojos poor hole the meanest treatment,

“‘s me right? ‘ve made you cum inside me so many times.” you slur, voice strained from getos rough grip on your throat

“bold of you to think that was your doing,” geto scoffs at you, “cmere,” he pulls your head back to press your lips together, other hand interlacing with gojos on your hip

satoru whines underneath the two of you, watching you makeout and feeling your cunt pulse around him because of suguru’s expert tongue work in your mouth had him spiraling

your hands coming up to grab geto’s wrist while he hums into the kiss, biting your lip between his teeth and pulling on it, letting it go before he chases after it and connects your lips once more

“‘m gunna cum again- please fuck- nggghhh i c-cant cum again,” gojo whines, squeezing getos hand and your hip for support as he’s falling into yet another orgasm and fast,

suguru pulls away from the kiss, releasing his grip on your neck as he pushes your lower back down twords gojos chest, “yes you can,” he growls

the raven haired man grabs your hair by the roots and pushes your face into satorus, “help him through it baby,” not needing to be told twice, you grab gojos cheeks with both your hands and slot your lips against his,

“mmmmph- mmm- can-t- p-please i-“ his protests being cut off by your lips, not letting him catch a breath

“got you, cmon” you comfort him in between your assault on his lips, geto reaching between his bestfriend and your body, finding your neglected clit, and rubbing sloppy circles on it, helping you get closer to your own high

“right there with you,” geto grits his teeth, resisting the urge to squeeze his eyes shut and tip his head back, so he can watch the show unfolding in front of him,

“gonna fill up this tight ass while you cum inside them, okay? and you’re gonna take everything we give you, right?” geto’s hips losing their rhythm, teetering on the edge of his own orgasm

gojo just whimpers into your mouth, hes trying to speak, he really is, but it’s all too much, he’s completely fucked out

“need to hear you say it satoru,” he emphasizes with a mean thrust, fucking impossibly deeper into his tight hole,

getos hand rubbing sloppily on your clit almost becomes too much, “yes! yesyes please ohmygod- gonna take it- shit-“ gojo’s whiney voice gets out just before he feels your cunt start to squeeze him,

“toru! fuuuuck me!” you whine, the blondes hips mindlessly fucking up into you helping you ride out your high as he cums so fucking hard, bordering on painful as spurt after spurt of his warm seed fills you once more,

and he’s gasping, barely coherent broken moans of both of your names on satoru’s tongue

geto not far behind you as he stills, balls deep inside gojos ass, the last push he needed seeing the two of you cum all over each other,

“yesssss fuuuuck” he clenches his teeth together hard, toothy grin emerging on his face, finally letting his head fall back, eyes following suit, rolling to the back of his head, “take it f-fucking t-take it.” fucking each rope of his cum deep into gojo’s ass

all three of you bask in the aftershocks of your intense orgasms, core clenching and unclenching around gojo’s length as you finally come down, picking your head up from gojos neck and smiling at his current state,

he was sniffling and gasping, red faced, tears decorating his lashes, making them look like glitter, he appeared more fucked out than ever

geto behind him slowly pulls out his softening cock, and gojo lets out a long groan of overstimulation when he does so, digging his fingers into the fat of your sides and wincing, “fuck, please don’t move yet, might pass out if you do” he says to you, his poor dick crying for relief, still snug inside your pussy, twitching every so often against your walls

you giggle, peppering kisses all over his face, he lets his eyes shut, finally relaxing a little as he relishes in the feeling of your soft lips on his skin,

suguru coming around to sit by his head

when you stop your assult of kisses on his porcelain face geto grabs gojos cheek furthest away from him and makes him turn his head into his thick thigh, “so,” geto starts, rubbing his thumb on gojos cheek, “who was better?” he asks, cocky smile finding home once more on his face

gojos eyes shoot open, looking at him slightly panicked, squeezing your upper thighs for support before he speaks, looking back between the two of you,

“i….im afraid if i don’t answer we will never leave this room.” he gulps

geto confirms his fears, tilting his head to the side, face sporting the fakest smile of comfort gojo has ever seen, “you would be absolutely right.”

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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 1 month

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i crumble completely when you cry ; suguru geto

synopsis; after a tense fight with your boyfriend, you flee out into a brewing rainstorm. luckily, suguru is always willing to warm you up again.

word count; 6.2k

contents; suguru geto/reader, gn!reader, copious amounts of hurt/comfort, no really that’s literally all this fic is, sugu snaps at you for worrying about him, (and then promptly spirals), he makes it up to you though :), healthy communication ensues, [name] is used exactly once, switching povs, soft & fluffy ending <33

a/n; going back to my roots (mindless hurt/comfort) 🙏🙏 i just think that if suguru picked me up like a small kitten and put me in his lap it would fix me

you’re cold.

little shivers run through your body, down your spine, and all you can do is clench your chattering teeth and dig your nails into the skin of your palms. the heavy rain falls down without mercy, going pitter patter as it hits the asphalt. a sudden lightning strike lights up the town, flashing in the reflection of puddles, and you manage a weak jolt.

dark clouds blanket the whole sky, not allowing even a sliver of blue to shine through the darkness of the rainy evening. enveloping you, surrounding you, soft earthy scents — wet asphalt, roses blooming to your left and right, bushes with sweet-smelling flora guiding your path, little petals glistening with droplets and bouncing with the force of the rain.

it’d be comforting, were it not for one simple fact;

you don’t have an umbrella.

at this point, thirty minutes into your solemn, sniffly walk, you’re absolutely soaked. with only a measly hoodie to cover your body and head, and a tank top sticking to the skin beneath it — you were stupid to think you’d get out of it unscathed. your shoes feel uncomfortable, wet soles sticking to the asphalt, two heavy weights carrying you down the familiar street ahead of you.

you let out a shuddering breath.

gosh, this was stupid. you knew it was going to rain, but still walked out without a care in the world; despite the weather forecast, despite suguru’s warnings over breakfast, despite the dark clouds covering the milk-blue sky. you just didn’t think it’d be this bad. you just felt so helpless.

you just couldn’t stay there.

some fresh air, and a bit of space. that was all you needed. just that one sliver of comfort.

so, yeah, maybe you weren’t thinking very clearly when you stormed out. maybe you weren’t thinking nearly enough, not enough to even grab one of the umbrellas hanging off the coatrack. hanging there just for you, the cutest little frog umbrella, one suguru bought for you himself. big, googly eyes, and a big smile. the most perfect shade of green.

(he put it there just for you.)

maybe you weren’t thinking at all. maybe you just needed to get away, away from him, away from the frustration on his features. arguments with suguru are few and far between — it only adds to the sting of his cold voice still ringing in your ears. you bite down on your bottom lip again, just to stop it from wobbling so pitifully. blinking rapidly, tears and raindrops clinging to your lashline.

you were just worried. is that so awful?

(why did he have to be so fucking mean about it?)

a sigh flows from your lips, heavy and defeated and undeniably tired. you hate feeling like this, this bitter, hate feeling like you’ve done something wrong. more than anything, you hate arguing with him — hate the idea of him being angry with you. hate the way his voice turns colder, just a little sharper, an octave lower. he never raises it, never ever, but somehow he still sounds so scary.

it bothers you. bothers you how sensitive you are when it comes to him. just that shivering tilt of his voice, coupled with the annoyance in his eyes, was enough to make your eyes a little glassy. one little sentence, and you were close to breaking out into a sob. because suguru was angry with you, and that alone makes you feel like you’ve done nothing right in your life.

so you left. because that was all you could do.

sure, the sharp pelting of the rain hurts a little, and the thunder is scary, and you’re awfully cold — but anything is better than having suguru see you burst into tears over such a small argument. you know he’d try to soothe you, know he’d feel guilty. but that just makes it all the more embarrassing.

(all the more pathetic.)

so you left, rushed out of your own apartment, and before you knew it the storm was rolling in above you. rain and thunder, something to rival the ache in your chest. it still hasn’t been that long, a little over half an hour, and you still haven’t fully calmed down. you still don’t know how to face him. but —

but fuck, it’s cold. and an undeniable part of you yearns to run back into his arms, to make up with him, to hear his voice turn warm and see his eyes go soft. you want him to soothe you so, so badly. like he always does.

another sigh — more resigned this time — slips from out your lips. your bones feel sore, you’re almost certain you’re going to catch a cold, and it’s getting late. you’re all alone, and it’s raining, and you look vulnerable and helpless.

you want to go home.

it’ll be awkward, but maybe you can sneak in somehow — without him noticing. then you can go straight to sleep, on the couch, and maybe you’ll feel a little better tomorrow. the two of you can talk it out over breakfast, over warm coffee, and you can tell him what you meant to say without stumbling over what words to use or dancing around the subject like a scared little child.

you’re just too tired to argue anymore.

he just made you feel so stupid. so very, very small. suguru’s been working so hard lately, coming home late, exhausting himself. all you wanted was to make sure he was okay. that, and to coax him into relaxing a bit; maybe take a day off to recharge. that was all.

but he just brushed you off.

and, well, maybe you should’ve backed off after that. maybe you should’ve taken that as a sign that suguru didn’t feel up to answering your questions. but you were just so worried, so pitifully anxious, and you just wanted to help him so, so badly.

suguru is always so dependable. always there to help you, to ground you, to console you. even when you push him away or insist you don’t need it. he can be pushy, when he feels like he needs to, when your health is at risk — and it’s frustrating, but you’ve always appreciated it. you just wanted to return the favour. push him, just a little, to show him how much you care. show him that he can depend on you the way he insists you do with him.

but then he grew frustrated.

”suguru… you’ve been working so much, i’m —” you bite down on your bottom lip. ”i’m just worried that you’re overdoing it.” ”… god. how many times do i have to say it? i know my limits, [name].” ”but — you just look so tired —” ”well, i’m sorry for that.” a cold smile. ”am i not living up to your expectations?”

(that’s not what you meant. he knows that’s not what you meant.)

and it makes you feel frustrated, too. pardon you for being worried. for wanting to be there for him, for once, for wanting to be a supportive partner and not just a burden.

pardon you for feeling a little lonely, with him coming home so late, leaving so early. with him not giving you the affection you’re so used to, and never confiding in you about his stress.

pardon you for wanting him to trust you, a little, even just a sliver more than not at all.

god, you’re exhausted. you just want to sleep — can’t you have that, at least? just that one thing? you don’t mind sleeping on the couch, don’t mind feeling like a stranger in your own home, as long as you get to rest your eyes. just for a little while.

your brain spins in circles, bitterness and longing heavy on your tongue, as you grumble over what to do or how to feel —

while your feet have already begun taking you home. moving almost on their own, on instinct, walking past rose bushes and backyards, the smell of glucose and rotting apples.

and you’re there before you know it: in front of the familiar door to your shared apartment, soaked from head to toe. still feeling a little lost.

for a second, you hesitate.

maybe he’s still angry. maybe he was happy to get some time away from you. maybe you’re just making things worse by doing this, maybe you should just —

but your fingers have already fished out the key from within your pocket, unlocking the door in one swift motion. moving up to curl around the doorknob, a desperation in your veins guiding you closer to his steady warmth.

and before you have the chance to waver again, you pull the door open and step inside.

you move slowly, gentle and careful, almost cautious. softly closing the door behind you and taking a couple quiet steps forward, only to shrug off your hoodie — heavy, soaking wet and discomforting as you pull it over your head. clumsily, you try to get it off you, squirming when the warm indoors air meets your sweaty tank top. it feels soothing on your bare skin, though, ghosting over your shoulders and collarbone, hoodie now clinging to your elbows.

in the middle of the taxing endeavor, you almost fail to notice the presence of a certain someone, standing just a little farther away.

almost, because it’d be impossible for you to miss him, that heavy gaze of his.

and before you can think the thought to do anything else, you’ve locked eyes with him — arms still tangled up in the wet sleeves of your hoodie, raindrops and sweat sticking to your skin.

(suguru takes a moment to look at you.)

not daring to say anything, afraid to part your lips, you simply stand there. in silence, like a deer in headlights. for some reason, you can’t really read his expression — you’re a little too tired, a little too caught off guard.

you can only blink, worry surely evident in your furrowed brows, as the seconds tick on and on. tense, tense, tense.

and then he’s walking away again.

crestfallen. that’s probably the best way to describe how you feel right now, watching him disappear around the corner. dejected, as your eyes fall to the floor, and your posture wilts like a dying rose. you finally shake off your hoodie and watch it fall to the floor with a gross, wet plap.

it hurts. you want to cry. you can’t help it. even though a part of you is still upset, even though a part of you fully expected this to happen…

another part was still hoping he’d be happy to see you. as if just seeing his smile again might’ve fixed everything.

but he didn’t even give you that.

that’s that, then. there’s nothing you can do except proceed with your original plan. you’ll change into some warm, dry clothes, and go to sleep on the couch like the miserable dog you are. you’ll leave everything troublesome and disheartening for tomorrow’s you to handle.

for now, you just have to worry about getting some sleep. you don’t have to think about suguru, or his cold voice, or the way he just walked away without saying anything.

you don’t have to think about him at all.

(don’t think. don’t think. don’t —)

— the soft patter of footsteps breaks you out of your anxious spiral. they come closer and closer, until a certain silhouette enters your vision out of the corner of your eye.

a certain suguru geto, hair down and cascading past his shoulders, wearing a comfortable sweater and loose sweatpants with a fluffy towel in tow.

once again, you can only blink. a vaguely confused deer in headlights. suguru comes closer and closer, until you can clearly see his eyes, amber gold, full of an emotion you finally manage to identify —

worry.

(ah.)

before you can say anything, he’s draped the towel around you. it feels nice, a soft texture on your skin, big enough to engulf you completely, cocooning you. cozy and snug. you can’t help but melt a little when suguru places his big hand over the towel and smooths it over your cheek, drying off your skin so gently that you feel like crying again.

”are you cold?” he asks, concern evident in his voice. to your immense relief, it sounds nowhere near as scary as before. ”you’re soaked…”

suguru almost seems to be pouting, bottom lip jutting out the slightest bit, eyebrows furrowed softly. still rubbing the raindrops off your skin. he looks awfully troubled, undeniably anxious, and the way he’s caressing your skin feels so earnestly caring. the towel feels warm, like he went the extra mile to heat it up for you.

and, more than anything, the feeling of suguru’s big hands cupping your face is almost heavenly. even though the touch is indirect, you can’t help but bask in his warmth, almost desperate to cling to it after escaping from the harsh cold of the rain. like he could slip away and leave you again if you don’t stay perfectly still, just like this.

it’s soothing. so, so soothing. but it also makes you feel kind of meek.

you sound sheepish when you answer, voice a little hoarse after your grueling walk. throat dry from all the crying. ”nah, ’m fine…”

the words are tiny, fragile like pieces of glass, and they only make suguru’s brows furrow further, pout turning into a soft frown as he gazes down at you.

(he hates how small you look. like you’re curling in on yourself.)

as soon as you left the apartment, a wave of regret washed over him. it was expected, obviously, because that’s what always happens after the two of you argue — which is almost never, which only makes the cut in his heart run deeper.

he felt frustrated. and tired, so tired. but when he saw your troubled expression, the way your eyes watered slightly before you rushed out…

he could only feel guilty.

and that sensation only deepened as he sat on the couch and spiraled, over the course of forty long minutes, playing the interaction back inside his head. over and over, thinking about your words, his words, some of which he desperately wishes he could take back.

and when it started raining? suguru could only feel regret, hot and ugly, dragging him into his own thoughts. could only drown in his worries, look out the window anxiously. thinking of you, his sweet baby, stuck under the onslaught of dark clouds and lightning strikes and heavy rain.

(you didn’t bring an umbrella.)

suguru waited. that was all he could do.

he didn’t think it was possible for him to feel so useless. fighting with himself, the part of him that wanted to give you the space you needed clashing with the part that yearned to run after you — scoop you up and apologize, hold you tight and protect you from the rainfall. you weren’t answering his calls, and he didn’t want to overwhelm you, didn’t want to make you feel even worse. afraid to scare you off for good.

so he could only sit there and worry, sit there and wait, wallow in his own shame until he heard the faintest sound of the front door unlocking. followed by the sound of it creaking open, slowly — and that was all he needed.

and there you were. standing by the entrance, entirely soaked, tank top sticking to your skin and that flimsy hoodie hanging off your arms, cheeks a little red from the cold and strands of hair sticking to your skin.

like a tiny kitten left out in the rain.

it made him feel so painfully anxious. his heart aching so deeply, so viscerally, while all he could think about was smothering you in affection. taking care of you, like he always wants to do, needs to do to stay sane. so suguru left, to go grab something to dry you off with —

and now he’s here. in front of you, smothering you with the towel rather than his love, fretting over you like an overprotective mother.

suguru yearns to soothe you. to take care of you. always, always, always, his hands on your skin and lidded amber eyes staring deeply into yours. offering himself like a shelter to a stray dog, hoping so tenderly that you’ll take the bait.

(he just wants you to feel safe with him again.)

so he stumbles for something, anything to say, afraid of overstepping or making you uncomfortable. you did just argue, and suguru was anything but patient with you. usually he would be; he’d make sure to be. but with work piling up, and exhaustion clinging to every pore of his skin…

he failed at maintaining his composure.

he needs to make it up to you. despite everything — even though he feels a little awkward, a little restless, still drowning a little in shame — he just wants to tend to you. that, and nothing more.

”hang on,” he exhales, stepping back and letting go of the towel. ”i’ll go draw you a bath…”

”ah — no need,” you smile, a little forced, swiftly reassuring him. he can tell you don’t really know how to act after everything that happened; still walking on eggshells. ”i’ll just take a quick shower.”

suguru wants to protest, wants to coax you into taking a proper bath, into letting your cold skin and aching bones relax completely —

but he can only hum, a little unsure. a little sad.

”… okay. got it.”

perplexed, he tries his hand at another tactic. still so desperate to take care of you in whatever way you’ll allow, like always, but he thinks it’s worse now. even more desperate, after the fight you had, after seeing your frail, shivering self. resisting the urge to scoop you up and coddle you is a struggle.

”i can make you tea?” he tries, inwardly wincing at the way the words spill from his lips; uncertain, awkward. what a mess.

but you smile, slightly more genuinely this time, a soft little thing. it soothes some of the anxiety rotting through his ribs.

”tea would be great, thank you.”

you brush past him, warm towel still hanging off your shoulders. ”i’ll just take a shower in the meantime,” you murmur, and suguru can do nothing but nod, watching you go.

he swallows thickly.

(that’s that, then.)

tea. right. what kind of tea? something warm, and soothing, and good for your throat. chamomile? peppermint? he’ll add a spoon of honey, just the way you like.

suguru’s mind spins in circles while his feet take him to the kitchen, hands swiftly rummaging through cabinets and getting the electric kettle ready. placing teacups and a teapot on the table, cute little floral designs he couldn’t help but fill your kitchen with. pouring hot peppermint tea into the pot, a strong scent drifting through the kitchen, drowning his senses in bliss.

caught up in his own head, losing track of time, suguru fails to notice you walking from the bathroom — stopping by the threshold of the kitchen, hesitant to make your presence known. a few silent moments pass. with a tiny inhale, mint invading your senses, you take a step forward. calm and sleepy, skin still pleasantly hot from the warm shower, hair still a little damp.

only then does suguru notice you, his gaze drifting to your figure as if instinctively drawn to it.

you’re clad in some comfortable sweatpants, and an oversized hoodie — his hoodie, the one with the unreasonably soft texture, the one you tend to gravitate towards — the one he likes to see you in the most, because you always look so thoroughly comfy in it. almost drowning in the fabric.

seeing you all warm and cozy, in his clothing no less, sends a tremor of pure warmth running through suguru’s chest. sprouting in his heart and spreading throughout his entire body. he can’t bring himself to resist the soft curl of his lips, gazing at you so fondly he’s almost sure you notice it.

”i made peppermint,” he says, a little breathless, already pouring boiling tea into two cups on the table. ”that okay?”

”yeah,” you answer, instantaneous. stifling a yawn. you’d have been fine with anything, really.

the shower worked wonders for your muddled mind; chasing away the shivers down your spine, that unpleasant chill to your skin. most importantly, it gave you a moment to simply relax, to bask in the peace and quiet. feel the hot water surround you, melt your bones like softened clay. you feel a little better, now. still anxious, more than a little sleepy, but better. and right now, that’s all you need.

with a groggy kind of pep in your step, you stumble over to the kitchen table, plopping down on the chair across from where suguru is sitting. trying to get comfortable, knees pressed against your chest, muttering a soft thank you while gingerly touching the rim of the cup.

(suguru frowns, just barely, at the sight. usually you’d sit right next to him. but now you’re in front of him, so very far — as if you’re strangers.

it breaks his heart, a little bit.)

a soft hum leaves your lips when you take a sip of the tea — all warm and comforting and minty on your tongue, a vague taste of something sweet. it’s relaxing, more than anything, and it makes you feel a little more okay with everything.

suguru only watches you, drinking absentmindedly from his own cup. not really tasting anything.

finally, he opts to clear his throat — and your attention falls on him instantly.

”hey,” he starts, ready to address the elephant in the room. his voice is gentle, but decisive, firm somehow. ”about before…”

your body tenses, ever so slightly, fingers uncurling around the handle of the teacup. there’s a kind of shift in the air around you, in suguru’s tone of voice — and you were expecting it, waiting for it anxiously, but that doesn’t make it any less harrowing.

here it comes, your mind seems to sing. here comes the moment everything shatters again.

with as much strength as you can muster, you smile. a little sheepish, just a tad forced, refusing to meet his eyes from across the table. staring into the murky green of your cup and hoping in vain that you can somehow escape this discomfort.

(you just want to rest. you just want to not have to think about anything.)

”it’s fine, suguru,” you cut him off. softly, but there’s a certain tilt to your voice that strikes him as rather cold. ”we can just drop it.”

the decision in his eyes doesn’t waver. you look meek, awfully troubled, and he hates to force you into another discussion when you’re undoubtedly tired — but suguru’s mind is set. he’s been evasive enough, today.

”no. i want to talk about it properly.”

at that, you seem to deflate a little. suguru is nothing if not stubborn, a quality that always manages to coexist with his gentleness, his desire to be a good partner for you. you can tell he won’t allow you to wriggle away, now that you’re both finally calm. he’s not doing it to exhaust you, not doing it to gain some sort of satisfaction out of ”winning” the argument — he’s doing it because he knows it’s the right thing to do. even if it makes you both a little uncomfortable.

communication is important, immensely so. suguru knows it very well.

and you do, too.

so all you do is curl into yourself, shifting in your seat, allowing him to speak his mind and sipping quietly on your tea. biting back a disgruntled huff, gaze lingering on the tablecloth, little calico cats etched into the fabric. he wanted one with yellow stripes, but still bought this one just for you. just like the ugly matching couple mugs you forced him into buying, the green colour of your kitchen wallpaper. he always places you before himself.

(all you wanted was to change that. just for a night, if nothing else. and he got mad at you for it.)

suguru sighs. it sounds fatigued, not frustrated or disappointed. he runs a hand through his hair, and you can’t help but follow the movement, the soft silky strands and the way he smooths them over. practiced, familiar, absentminded. you could watch him do it forever.

”i had a lot of time to think while you were gone,” he begins, recalling the mental gymnastics he went through while you were away. just sitting on the couch and running himself ragged, trying to be impartial, trying to see your point of view without letting his own bias get in the way.

you sink a little further into the chair, eyes downcast. inhaling the scent of peppermint, trying to prepare yourself for what he might say, the ways this could all go wrong.

”and i realized that you were right.”

…

you blink. once, then twice.

hesitantly, you raise your head, searching for suguru’s gaze. he isn’t looking at you, staring out at the rainfall through the window as if in deep thought. his gaze shifts to meet yours, and something soft flickers through his golden eyes.

he looks troubled, though. trying to find the right words, mind clouded by guilt. chewing at his bottom lip anxiously.

it takes him a moment to gather his thoughts, to weigh the words in his mind, just to make sure he gets them across as smoothly as possible. he’s had more than enough time to verbalize his feelings, to think about what he wants to say to you. it was all he could do while he waited.

so his voice is earnest, when he continues, sincerely apologetic and thought out.

”i’m always telling you not to overwork yourself. and here i am, doing the same thing…” another sigh. ”you were just worried. i shouldn’t have lashed out — you didn’t deserve that.”

suguru searches for your gaze, and manages to find it. you falter a little under the weight of his eyes, but they’re warm, remorseful. a setting sun.

”i’m sorry.”

a moment of silence passes. then two. three, five. you look down at your cup, the purple hyacinths etched into the porcelain. crumbling under his gaze, at the sound of his genuine apology.

and suddenly, you feel silly — silly for being so scared, for thinking suguru might still be angry with you. for thinking he wouldn’t spend as much time as needed to properly think about your words, your feelings, even if he might not have been ready to do so when he first heard them.

suguru can be stubborn, if he’s convinced that he’s in the right. but he always, always seeks you out eventually, always makes sure to genuinely look at things from your perspective.

and, really, it means everything. it means enough to wash away all your leftover irritation, from having him brush you off when you know you didn’t do anything wrong. all the leftover sadness from being pushed away, from not being allowed to take care of him the way he always does for you.

suguru isn’t perfect, but he tries harder than anyone you know. tries his very best to be as close to perfect as he can possibly get — for you, for the both of you. he’s considerate enough, mature enough to take the time he needs to properly communicate. that’s how much he loves you.

and yes, doing so makes you a little uncomfortable. but when faced with something like that, someone so kind, who loves you like the rain loves the ground — how could you ever bear not to do the same?

”… it’s fine,” you start, softly. ”maybe i overreacted a bit. ’s just —” a gulp. you’re trying your best to verbalize your feelings, the way suguru just did, the way he always does.

and he waits, patiently. for as long as you need. looking at you from across the table softly, already immensely relieved at the lack of tension in the air.

”i don’t like seeing you so tired. i know that your work is important, and i support you, but…” your voice goes quiet, as you trail off, hoping he’ll understand what you mean. ”you know.”

and suguru does. he does understand, he always will. so he hums.

”i know,” he murmurs, softly. ”it wasn’t an overreaction. i just didn’t realize it myself. got too caught up in everything,” a sharp exhale leaves his lips. ”it’s been… a long week. i’m not using that as an excuse, though.”

you listen attentively, eyes softening at his words. you can tell that he means it, that you finally got your message across. all you wanted was for him to take a break, to take care of himself.

to let you take care of him.

suguru continues. he makes it a point to look into your eyes as he speaks — a little intimidating, especially in a situation like this — but you know it reassures him, that it lets him know you really understand what he’s trying to say.

so you hold his gaze, as steady as you can, glancing down at his collarbone when it becomes just a little too much.

”i’m grateful that i have you,” he says, voice dripping with softness, gazing at you with a fondness that has you crumbling all over again. ”and that you care enough to set me straight when i need it.”

and suguru means it. he means it more than anything else. not once has he ever stopped appreciating you, all the things you do for him; always so sweet and caring, even when it’s subtle. this was no exception. you’re always worried, always looking out for him. he feels awful for getting so defensive. for pushing you away, when you were trying so earnestly to reach him.

but he’ll make up for all of that, starting now.

”i mean it. i appreciate you so much, you have no idea — i’m so sorry if i made you think otherwise.” for a moment, his eyes look a little glassy, swimming in remorse. ”i really, really am.”

(and when he looks at you like that, when he speaks so very gently —

how could you ever bear not to forgive him?)

you shift in your seat again. gazing down, chewing at your bottom lip. his honesty makes you falter, makes it hard for you not to do the same; even if your voice ends up sounding awfully tiny and awfully close to breaking apart.

”… i was just worried,” you mumble, meekly, shooing away any tears you have left with rapid blinks.

”i know,” suguru soothes. the smile on his face is genuine, comforting, honey and peppermint and warmth. ”i was being immature. you were right — i’ve been burning myself out.”

you don’t say anything. only letting his words console you, feeling yourself relax at the sound of him opening up a little. just enough to make everything all better again.

”i was thinking of taking tomorrow off,” he continues, searching for your timid gaze and smiling gently once he finds it. ”what do you say?”

you brighten a little, so obvious in the way you sit up straighter, the way something soft and hopeful blossoms in the scope of your iris. the sight coaxes suguru’s patient smile into widening a smidge, his eyes crinkling at your barely contained excitement.

”that’d be nice…” you murmur, averting your gaze once more. but suguru can tell you like the sound of that, that it’s exactly what would finally put your anxious mind at ease.

a smile, bright and fond. suguru opens his arms.

”then i will.”

for a moment, you simply stare. at him, his outstretched limbs — that soft smile, as he waits for you to get the hint. and you blink.

oh.

you look down at your lap. a little sheepish, almost shy. it takes you another moment to raise your head, again, only to see another gentle flicker in suguru’s eyes — and then you finally get up from your seat.

it feels a little strange. a little awkward, as if some of your bones still can’t help but tread on eggshells, afraid of making him upset again. but it’s suguru, and he loves you, and his arms are waiting patiently to hold you.

and you want that more than anything.

so you fall into his arms, softly, curling up in his lap and wrapping your arms around his waist. suguru has one hand on the back of your head and the other on the small of your back, rubbing comforting circles into your spine to make you relax.

it works wonders. despite your initial hesitance, you melt into the embrace without putting up a fuss — happy to be in his arms again, to feel the anxiety dissipate when you realize that everything’s finally alright.

and suguru is just as happy, just as content. breathing out a sigh of relief he didn’t know he was holding. he strokes your hair lovingly, and you nuzzle into him a little more; making his lips quirk up, eyes filling with adoration. finally, he can relax. having you in his arms feels so soothing. and you’re so sweet, curling into him, seeking comfort and warmth that he’s more than happy to provide.

how long has it been since he had a chance to hold you like this? he made sure to be affectionate whenever he could, before leaving for work and after coming back — but in the midst of all the paperwork and stress…

suguru sighs, a little sadder this time, watching you bask in the attention he had been robbing you of this whole time. without even realizing it.

”and i’m sorry for neglecting you, too,” he murmurs, barely above a whisper. muffled by your hair as he presses a kiss against the crown of your head.

that certainly gets your attention.

”neglecting me?” you sputter, eyes suddenly wide open and lips parted in disbelief. flustered, heat rushing to your neck and ears. ”wha — what am i, some high-maintenance puppy? you didn’t neglect me.”

suguru only chuckles, biting back a soft coo that he knows would only fluster you more. instead, he pulls away a little, just to look at you, and pecks your forehead softly.

”well, i’m sorry for not being around much, then. i’ll make it up to you. okay?”

hiding away in his collarbone, again, you mutter a soft okay that has suguru’s heart squeezing in his chest. he cradles you close, engulfs you in his embrace, and hopes you can feel his love through the action. hopes you can feel it in the way his arms fit around you like they were always meant to be right there.

and you do feel his love. feel it smooth away the leftover turmoil in your brain, caress your skin softly. it’s soothing, and comforting, and you feel so incredibly safe. here, in suguru’s embrace, with the sound of rain hitting the window and the scent of peppermint wafting through the kitchen — it’d be impossible not to relax.

before you know it, your eyelids have fluttered shut, breathing softening out and heartbeat slowing down. a peaceful rhythm, carrying you away. suguru notices it before you do.

”you sleeping, baby?”

you jolt a little in his arms — murmuring something unintelligible into his neck, and he only chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest like a soothing thunderstorm.

”c’mon. let’s get you to bed, hm?”

suguru smooths a hand down your back, arms tightening around you before he scoops you up and gets up from his seat. ”there we go,” he hums, helping you hike your legs around his waist. ”you can sleep, angel. i’ve got you.”

your arms tighten around him, and you inhale his scent; grounding and comforting, raindrops and roses. tomorrow you can bask in it properly, can take care of him properly. you’ll coddle him all day.

but for now, you need to get some rest.

allowing your senses to dull away, clinging to suguru like a makeshift pillow, you absently listen to the storm still raging on outside. faraway, cold and harsh, but comforting when you’re in his steady grasp.

a yawn escapes your honey-soothed throat.

you don’t miss the i love you murmured into your ear, accompanying you into dreamland as your eyes flutter shut.

#geto x reader #geto x you #geto x y/n #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #geto suguru x y/n #suguru geto x reader #getou suguru x reader #geto fluff #geto hurt/comfort #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk fluff #jjk hurt/comfort

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seonghwaddict · 1 month

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save a horse, ride your best friend — song mingi

in which your best friend can’t believe you’ve never ridden a dick before, so he takes it upon himself to teach you.

best friend!song mingi x fem!reader. requested by anon. genre. slight fluff. smut. best friends to friends with benefits. warnings. explicit sexual content mdni, inexperienced!reader, thigh riding, fingering, use of a dildo, big dick!mingi, multiple orgasms, unprotected, creampie, swearing, nicknames (baby, angel, pretty). wc. 4k. rating. mature.

lilo’s notes. this was requested a while ago but i’ve been putting it off because… i’ve never written anything about toys being used so uh, i was worried about the pacing and stuff. i wasn’t sure if you meant for them to be in an established relationship, so i went for the fwb route. IMPORTANT!!!! i lost access to my google account bc of a stupid mistake, if you sent in a request through my google form and would still like me to see it, please send it as an ask <33 i remember a few of them, but do send yours in just in case!!

listening to. need to know, doja cat // if u think i’m pretty, artemas // moonlight, kali uchis

masterlist.

it was a regular saturday evening. you were on a video call with your best friend, mingi, talking about anything that came to mind as you each ate a bowl of ramen as if you were really in the same room. he really only lived a couple buildings away, a two minute walk at most, but actually joining you in your apartment didn’t cross his mind until something interesting was brought up.

you weren’t sure what led to the conversation, but somehow it steered into the direction of something less innocent as you found yourself talking about an embarrassing date you’d gone on a while ago. recounting the story, laughing together, soon turned into a conversation about what each of you like in bed.

“oh, it’s just amazing,” mingi laughed as he gulped down a mouthful of water, momentarily pausing his rambling about how much he loves it when someone rides his dick. he ran a his hand through his short, washed-out pink hair, “honestly, my favourite thing ever since it probably feels just as good for whoever is, y’know, riding.”

based on everything he’s said so far, you came to the conclusion that he was more into giving than receiving, that he got off on seeing all the pleasure he can give his partner. so, it made sense he’d choose to mention the fact that riding him would feel good. not that you would know.

“can i admit something?”

he looked up from his bowl, sharp eyes looking almost hopeful as he nodded.

you looked around your kitchen jokingly, pretending to make sure no one sense was listened as you leaned closer a whispered, your hand cupping the side of your mouth.

“i’ve never done that before.”

his jaw dropped at that, letting out a small laugh. “you’re kidding.”

“no, really,” you insisted, going back to eating casually as if you were having the most normal conversation in the world with your best friend, “i really haven’t done… much, so i can’t confirm or deny your theory.”

“huh.” he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he thought for a moment. his head tilted and it was then that you felt how warm your cheeks felt, how your thighs were pressed together under the counter. of course, he was well aware of the fact that you had much less experience than him, only knowing about two people you had slept with. but damn. he clicked his tongue and shook his head ever so slightly. “that won’t do.”

furrowing your eyebrows, you opened your mouth to ask him what he had meant by that. he beat you to it before you could get a word out.

“i can… teach you, if you want?”

you blinked at your screen, resting your wrist on your countertop and gripping your chopsticks a little too hard. a silence followed his offer, though it wasn’t awkward. in fact, he could see you genuinely considering it as you thought it over. eventually, you gave him a tiny nod.

“i mean,” you shrugged, shifting your eyes away shyly, “sure, i guess. why not?”

he grinned, trying to hide it as he shoved a mouthful of noodles into his mouth and shoved his bowl aside. he chewed, swallowed then got up and made sure to bring his phone with him. you recognised his hallways then bedroom as he walked through his apartment. “i’ll be there in like 15, i need to buy something on the way. just wait there, and where something comfortable and… um, accessible.”

you nodded, despite your confusion, and he hung up. accessible? you looked down at your clothing—or rather, lack thereof. since you were home and not expecting anyone, you’d settled on wearing just a shirt you stole from mingi that was too large for him and much larger for you, and panties. you lifted the hem of the worn shirt, assessing how much of your dignity you’d lose if he saw your pink hello kitty undergarments that you only wore if you were doing laundry.

you could already hear him giggling at the sight.

groaning and cursing under your breath, you dropped the shirt and sped to your bedroom to dig through your closet in hopes of finding something a little more appealing. after making a mess of one of your closet’s drawers, you finally pulled out a pair of less offensive panties. they were made of soft cotton; a muted light blue with thin white lace trim, the cut shaped more like a bikini than what you call your grandma underwear.

deciding they were flattering enough, you slipped off your hello kitty pair—ignoring the embarrassing amount of wetness creating a wet patch right where it was pressed against your core—and replaced it with the new pair. as you untwisted the waistband and adjusted it to fit properly, your doorbell rang and you froze on the spot before pulling yourself together and heading to open the door.

the walk to the door felt abnormally long as you stumbled over on wobbly knees. admittedly, you were a little nervous. sure, there have been times where you wanted to do some more than friendly activities with mingi, but you never actually thought it was happen. yet here you were, opening the door for him so he could come in and show you what being a cowgirl feels like.

“hey,” he greeted you softly, stepping into your home and closing the door behind him. you noticed a small plastic bag in his hand, eying it curiously as you watched him kick off his shoes and hang up his coat. once that was of the way, he took one of your hands in your free one and pulled you to where he knew your bedroom was.

once there, he set the bag down on your bedside table and dragged you to stand between his knees as he took a seat on the edge of your bed. he looked you over, lingering on the familiar t-shirt.

“so you’re the one that took this shirt, huh?” he quirked an eyebrow, glancing up at you as he released your hand and brought both of his to your hips. his thumbs caressed the curve of your waist over the shirt. “it was my favourite.”

you laughed softly, “clearly you didn’t care enough if i was able to keep it for three years without you noticing.”

“you little thief.” his nose scrunched as he glared at you jokingly, giving you a gentle squeeze.

“if you really want it back, you can always take it.”

“nah, it’s fine, keep it. it looks cuter on you anyway.” he took a breath and gave you another once over, humming appreciatively when he moved his hands up higher, dragging the shirt with it until he caught a glimpse of your panties. you tensed, caught off guard by how close he felt. “i need you to relax a little, how about i help you loosen up, yeah?”

you nodded, averting your gaze but returning it to him when you felt him pull you onto his lap. he slotted one of his legs between yours, easing you down to straddle his thigh. his hands ran up and down your sides and few times before resting on your bare thighs, your breath stuttered and he held back a smile.

“are you still okay with this?” he asked quietly, absentmindedly playing with the hem of his your shirt. “if i do anything that makes you uncomfortable, just tell me and i’ll stop immediately and we can just watch a movie or something, okay?” when you only nodded, he continued, “i need you to say it, please.”

“i’m okay with this,” you muttered in return, resting you hands on his biceps, “and i’ll let you know if i need you to stop.”

“good, now…” without waiting any longer, he leaned forward to attach his lips to your neck, his hands slowly beginning to rock you back and forth on his lap.

you sucked in a sharp breath and clung into his arms a little tighter, your stomach fluttering at the feeling of your clothed cunt on his firm thigh, your panties dragging against your clit with ease thanks to how wet you already were. he lifted you slightly as he pulled you towards him, pushing you down as he pushed, the varying pressure making your lips part in a soft whimper. he nearly groaned at the sound, moving his lips right below your ear.

“you know,” he rasped between the licks and kisses, “i can’t deny that i’ve wanted to fuck you for a long, long time now.”

“r-really?”

mingi chuckled as he pulled back to look at your face, half surprised and half needy. he noticed that if he relaxed his hands, you’d continue grinding against his thigh.

“yeah, really. i mean, look at you,” he glanced down, one of his hands lifting the hem of your shirt to watch you ride his thigh slowly, a dark wet patch forming right where your leaking pussy sat. he bit his lip, “you look so perfect… and i bet you’d feel perfect, too.”

you nearly whined at that, fucking yourself on his thigh just a little faster as he sucked a dark mark right above your collarbone before returning to mutter dirty words into your ear.

“i know practically everything about you and your cute little body, you know. better than anyone else,” one of his hands inched it’s way up your thighs, brushing against the edge of your panties, “i’ll make you feel so good, angel, i promise.”

“mingi?” you whimpered, prompting him to lean back a little to look at you with a curious tilt of his head and a raised brow. “if you don’t shut up and kiss me right now, i might lose my mind so… please.”

his beautifully plump lips stretched into a smile as he wasted no time in practically pouncing forward and smashing his lips against yours. it started a little slow as you got acquainted with each other, despite the fact you could feel a nearing orgasm as a knot in your stomach drew tighter with each roll of your hips, but soon the kiss turned hungry.

he groaned into your mouth as you let his tongue explore, making you let out a quiet moan. mingi knew he wouldn’t be able to kiss anyone ever again. you, his best friend of all people, had the most inviting lips he’s ever felt. so inviting, so perfect and so soft. he thought everything about was soft. his hand slipped just under the edge of your panties as his other one made your grinds slow down.

you didn’t mind the slow pace, knowing just a few more rocks of your hips would have you tipping over the edge. but he evidently had other plans as he finally made your hips still completely. you pulled away from his lips with a pout. if you were trying to make him feel bad, it backfired terribly.

all he could think of as he looks at your swollen, red, wet, pouty lips is how much prettier they’d look wrapped around his cock. but he could save that for another time.

“there’s no need to rush, baby,” he chuckled, wiping some saliva away from your bottom lip.

eventually, when he was sure you had calmed down enough, he lifted you off his lap a little and turned to lay you down on your back, pressed against the comfortable mattress as he kneeled on the edge. he gripped your knees and bent them, pushing them closer to your chest with his eyes zeroed in on where your slick was leaking through your panties.

with one hand keeping your knees together and elevated, he ran his other over the fabric, pressing down on where he knew your clot would be and elicit a sweet little moan as you squirmed beneath him. he thought you were so cute like this, you looked so flustered as he gave you nothing but featherlight touches where you needed him most. for now.

“don’t get all shy on me now,” he cooed as he glanced up and noticed you covering your face with your hands, “let me see you, pretty.”

he didn’t continue his touches until you finally removed your hands, giving him a nice view of your abused lips and round eyes, pupils blown wide with lust in a way that had something stirring in his abdomen. and his pants.

he let down your knees for a moment so both of his hands could slip under the waistband of your panties, slowly pulling them down your legs. he actually moaned when he saw the strings of arousal clutching onto the fabric as he dragged it away, snapping when he got too far.

“you’re so pretty, baby,” he murmured, watching your entrance squeeze around nothing, making more slick drip out.

after tossing it aside, he wasted no time in getting your knees back to the previous position and running his fingers through your folds.

“oh, fuck,” he groaned, eyes squeezing shut for a moment as you let out a moan when he tapped against your clit, “you’re soaked.”

he glanced up at you, wanting to see your face as he slowly pushed in too fingers and catching a glimpse of your hard nipples poking through your shirt. your face contorted for s fraction of s second before relaxing, your head tipping back against the mattress as you let out a whine.

he choked back a moan at the tight walls around his middle and ring fingers, the fingers of his other hand digging into your thighs. “sh-shit… you’re so tight. i’m gonna have to stretch you out first, okay?”

you nodded mindlessly, too distracted by his fingers prodding at your sweet spot to care about any words he may have said. but you furrowed your eyebrows and lifted your head when you felt both his hands leave you, finding him reaching for the bag. your curiosity outweighed your disappointment as he pulled something out.

it was a dildo. about as thick and long as the biggest person you had before, and made of what looked to be transparent silicon. your insides tightened at the sight, somehow the thought of him seemingly buying this just for you turning you on even more.

he returned to kneeling at the edge of your bed, leaning down to loop his arm around your waist and lift you up to place a pillow under your hips before letting lay back down.

“couldn’t find one my size, but this should be fine,” he held the dildo and ran the tip through your pussy, collecting wetness as you shuddered, “my cock will just have to stretch you the rest of the way.”

you breath hitched at the implication of his words. so he was bigger than that? your thighs pressed together at the thought of being completely stuffed by him. he chuckled, separating your knees enough for him to have a clear view of your pussy, pulsing and dripping and begging for his attention.

he began slipping the toy into you, filling you up inch by inch and watching your needy hole stretch around it and swallow it up. the sight had him choking back a moan, biting down on his bottom lip.

the stretch had your back arching and pushing yourself against it desperately, feeling like that alone could get you to finish. it only took a few deep strokes for your pussy to get used to the size, squeezing and writhing around it until you couldn’t handle it anymore. your arousal coated it quickly and seeped out with each stroke, squelching sounds filling the room that shot straight to his dick.

when you finally came, your toes curled and your body twitched as you let out a string of and whines and moans, little curses slipping between. he watched with fascination as you came undone right beneath him, not wanting to wait any longer to be inside you. he shoved the toy deep inside you, leaving it there as he leaned back for a moment to discard his clothes, slipping his hoodie and sweatpants off.

when you were brought back to your senses, you found yourself on his lap again, straddling his hips this time as he sat with his back against your headboard. you felt his erectile straining against his boxers and pressing against your core. you couldn’t help but rock your hips against his slowly.

“do you ever ride your pillow?” he asked suddenly, voice dropped what felt like two octaves lower than his regular tone. your eyes widened at the question but you nodded. he nodded too, his hands finding your ass and helping you grind against his clothes length. “this is a lot like that, except you have something in you… and it’s more of an up and down movement… and i’m obviously not a pillow… still, there’s really no right way to do it, just go slow and you’ll figure out what works and what doesn’t. plus, i’m here to guide you.”

he gave your ass a squeeze as if to punctuate his sentence, massaging the soft flesh in his palms. when you felt ready, you dropped your hands from his shoulders to his boxers, palming his length a few times before hooking your fingers into the fabric and dragging it down until his cock sprung out.

he definitely wasn’t lying when he said it would stretch you more than the already-big dildo. he was definitely a lot bigger than anyone else you’ve been with, well over average. you nearly dropped at the sight, wrapping your hand around him and jerking him off, eyes fixated on the angry red tip leaking precum as you passed your thumb over it.

the muscles of his abs rippled and squeezed as your worked your hands on his cock, his head thrown back against the headboard and letting out stuttering moans. all the sounds he made encourage you to sit up on your knees, guiding him through your folds and whimpering as you finally sank down on him carefully.

the two of you moaned at the same time, him at how well you squeezed around him and you at how well he stretched you. you stopped when you reached just halfway, unsure whether or not you’d be able to fit more. his hips jerked slightly as his hands squeezed your hips.

“come on, baby,” he moaned softly, looking up at you with encouraging eyes, “just a little more… we can make it fit, right? just breathe.”

you nodded and as you took a deep breath, he used his hold on your to sink you further down until he finally bottomed out. he cursed silently, the back of his head finding the headboard again as you whined and dropped yours onto his shoulder.

you felt his tip pushing against your cervix, the new feeling making a lump form in your throat as you blinked back tears. this time it took a while to get used to the stretch before you tried grinding back and forth. it was slow, almost painfully so. he was amazed that despite stretching you with two different things, you were still so unbelievably tight, hugging him in a death grip as your raised your hips an inch before dropping down again.

your soft noises were muffled by his shoulder as your hands rested on his biceps, panting and squeezing gently as every inch of him dragged against the sensitive spongy patch in your walls every time you grinded on him. soon enough you were able to lift yourself to his tip and drop all the way down, your wetness letting him slip in and out with ease.

still, you kept the pace torturously slow, savouring each bounce and grind. his hands had left your hips at some point, exploring your body under your shirt, massaging your breasts and tweaking your nipples. he lifted the fabric but kept it on your as he watched your tits bounce temptingly, your puffy pink nipples making his mouth water as he pushed himself forward to take one into his mouth.

your hips stuttered as he sucked and nibbled at your nipples, throwing your head back and arching into his touch as your grinds grew sloppy. he felt your decreasing pace, using the hand that wasn’t teasing your other breast to guide your hips once more. he angled you slightly differently in a way that made your clit press against his pelvis each time he bottomed out, the speed of your grinds picking up quickly as his hips bucked up to meet yours.

his lips detached from your bruised breasts with a popping sound as he leaned up to capture your lips in his once again. it wasn’t much of a kiss, more teeth and tongue and moans and groans than anything else as you swallowed each other’s sounds.

you finished first, pushing yourself down hard and stilling, filling yourself with his throbbing cock and pressing your clit against him. he held you tightly, burying his face in your neck to suck at all the spot he knew would get your to writhe. many tickling fights contributed to his knowledge on all your sensitive spots.

your body twitched as you returned to bouncing on his length, your juices looking at his base. the overstimulation burned a little, making your thighs and knees quiver, but you were determined to get him to finish too. and by the looks of it, it shouldn’t take much longer.

“shit, baby,” he said, halfway between a whimper and a moan, fingertips digging into your hips as he threw his head back in bliss, “‘m so close— fuck, you feel s-so good.”

his chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, bottom lip caught between his teeth. his cheeks and the tip of his ears flushed a deep red, his plush lips a few shades darker and coated in your mixed saliva from your kisses. as you adjusted the angle of your hips, something in him snapped, grabbing your hips tighter and taking over. he took over your movements, thrusting his hips up desperately as you fell forward onto his chest with the sudden change in intensity. his tip pushed itself against your g-spot continually, another knot tightening in your stomach.

the wet sounds of your cunt and your skin slapping against his egged him on until finally he felt like he couldn’t hold back any longer.

“baby, p-please— fuck— please, can i cum i-inside you?” he begged through a groan, “i— please, angel, i-i can’t wait any longer.”

you nodded against his chest with a whine, you were on the pill anyway. not a second later, he released into you, filling you up with stuttering hips. he pulled you down, flush against him and keeping you there as he emptied himself with softly muttered curses, his head dropping to press open-mouthed kisses to your shoulder.

it felt new to you, the warmth making you squirm until you came again without warning. it was much weaker this time but still enough to make you shake in his arms, panting softly after letting out a strangled moan against his skin.

after a few long moments of trying to recover from the shared orgasm, he lifted his head, one of his hands cupping your chin to tilt your head to look at him.

“so,” he started, lips stretched into a smile, “how’d that feel?”

“fucking amazing.” you rolled your eyes at how smug he looked after your confession, not protesting as he leaned forward to kiss you.

this one was much softer than the previous kisses you shared, much more tender. it was a lot shorter too, he pulled away first to rest his forehead against yours.

“yeah?” he whispered, kissing the corner of your lips, “just wait until i hit it from the back.”

networks. @cromernet @wonderlandnet @cultofdionysusnet @pirateeznet

permanent taglist. @ad0rechuu @sankatchu @mlink64 @yeosangsbb @seonghwasbbgirl @likexaxdaydream @dreamingofyeo @yalyallic @yunhoswrldddd @coffee-addict-kitten @thunderous-wolf @chngbnwf

#cromernet #wonderlandnet #cultofdionysusnet #pirateeznet #ateez #ateez x reader #song mingi smut #mingi x reader #mingi reactions #mingi imagines #mingi smut #mingi fluff #mingi angst #ateez imagines #ateez reactions #ateez fluff #ateez smut

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yawnderu · 7 months

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Lovely — Dad!Simon "Ghost" Riley x Mom!Reader

"She looks just like you." You whisper softly, gaze full of love as you admire the baby between both of you. He doesn't respond for a long while, completely enamored by the little girl who is holding his finger with her entire tiny hand, looking in awe at the life you both created.

"She's so tiny." He whispers back, secretly afraid he'll startle the baby with his deep voice despite knowing she has fallen asleep to his voice and hums more than once. A small chuckle from you is all it takes for her face to turn towards you, her free hand grabbing a strand of your hair and trying to take it to her mouth before Simon gently intervenes, taking it back and giving her another finger to hold.

"Thank you." His gaze focuses on you as he cups your cheek, thumb tracing random patterns on your skin as the corners of his mouth tilt up in a small, tender smile.

"What for?" You ask as if you didn't know exactly what he was talking about, as if he hadn't thanked you hundreds of times for carrying his child ever since he found out you were pregnant.

"For creating her." His tone is as gentle and tender, and if it didn't show just how much he loves you, the look in his eyes totally did. He's looking at you like you're a goddess in the flesh— and you are. You give him a warm smile, leaning closer to plant a small kiss on his cheek, which he returns.

"I like our baby." He murmurs, his hand coming down to caress her cheek gently with one finger. He treats her like she's made of glass, and in his mind, she is. She's so tiny compared to his behemoth frame, and it took a while until he felt comfortable enough to hold her. He plants a soft kiss on her forehead, gaze drifting between his angels before he lets out a small sigh of content.

"She likes you too." You tease, playfully poking his side as the memories of how much of a daddy's girl your daughter is already despite being only three months old. It's lovely, really, to see the man everyone knows as "the big boy with the skull mask" become absolute putty under the tiny hands of his daughter.

He bends backwards for her, holding her late at night and talking to her, telling her all sort of stories about his life despite knowing she can't understand yet. His heart melts whenever his daughter simply looks up at him and babbles, hand reaching out to him and pulling on anything she can reach with surprising strength.

"Mum would have loved her." Your heart breaks at his hushed words, hand immediately reaching out to caress his cheek as he refuses to hold your gaze, simply looking down at your daughter with sadness hidden deep inside his loving stare.

"Look at me, big guy." It takes a few seconds for him to look up, and when he does, you can feel everything. The regret, the longing, the sadness, the pain. You bring him closer for a soft kiss, both of your lips turning up into a smile as your daughter interrupts you by babbling and holding onto Simon.

"You carry her love with you. In your eyes, your smile, your hair... her love didn't go with her when she passed." He looks down, biting the inside of his cheek softly before nodding his head, carefully holding onto your daughter before laying her down on his chest, one of his hands supporting her neck while the other one holds her body close to his.

"Never saw it that way." His voice sounds distant now, yet it's never devoid of affection and love for you. You know him well enough to know he's visiting a graveyard of memories. You lay down next to him, head resting on his shoulder, planting a kiss on his soft jawline.

"She was the best nan. Always spoiling Joseph and buying him anything she thought he'd like... at some point Tommy and Beth were running out of space because he had so many bloody toys." A small chuckle escapes his lips, smiling fondly at the memories of his family before they were taken from him. He felt comfortable enough with you to be able to speak about his family— you were always so patient, waiting years for this.

"They sound lovely." Another kiss to his jawline as you look at your daughter absent-mindedly run her fingers over his tattoo sleeve. It's ironic, to see such an innocent person tracing something meant to be representing of destruction and loss, yet that's what his life is, two sides of the coin that is Simon Riley's past and present. "I'm sure they're watching over you, proud that you have this life."

He gives you a soft grin, planting a kiss on your forehead as he looks out of the window, fingers absent-mindedly caressing your daughter's back while he looks up at the sky. I made it, mum.

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hxney-lemcn · 28 days

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I Love You~ — NRC Students x gn! reader

summary: How Twisted Wonderland boys react to you saying "I love you."

tw: stalking (Rook), slight angst for some, mainly fluff.

a/n: this is the most I've written for for so many characters. I hope I did them well, I even wrote for characters I'm not confident in. Also, I swear they don't all just say I love you too back, Heartslabyul boys are just too sweet not not (for the most part).

wc: 4.5k (~200 each character)

Master List

Your feelings had been building up over time. It got to the point that it felt like all your feelings were bubbling over. It was only sooner or later that the depth of your love was going to spill. You only hoped that it wouldn’t scare him away.

Riddle Rosehearts

It wasn’t the first time you said those damn words that sent his heart into cardiac arrest. ‘Love you,’ You would chime playfully as he seemed near to scolding you for something or another. He hated to admit how effective those words were on him, it didn’t help how you said it so casually. Yet this time was different, your tone being nothing but soft, your eyes nothing but warm…he wasn’t prepared for this. Avoiding your loving gaze, Riddle could feel his brain melt, his tongue felt like lead, and his heart was beating erratically. When your gaze turned worried, shying away the longer he stayed silent, he somehow gathered the courage to respond.

“I-I love you too.”

Trey Clover

It was no secret how much you both cared for each other. You both seemed like a married couple to the other students. You never really needed to say anything out loud because your love was shown through actions, the way you both smiled at each other, and how the other was always on the mind. Yet hearing you say those words out loud shocked him. What shocked him even more was how much he longed to hear you say it again, and again, and again. It didn’t take long for him to regain his composure, smile brightening as he didn’t even hesitate to respond.

“I love you too~”

Cater Diamond

He always hid behind a smile and a flash of his camera. People would say his care for you only ran skin deep, but you knew otherwise. You had managed to wiggle your way through Cater’s walls and that scared him, but it also brought a sense of relief. His compliments towards you were genuine, showing you just how much his fans loved you (an extension of his own love). He’d always say he loved you playfully, sending a wink your way making you nearly combust…and you’d respond in kind (unknowingly doing the same to him). So when you said those three simple words, your tired eyes fluttering shut as you snuggled into his blankets, he felt like he was going to puke. He felt like a complete coward that he could only reply back after you had fallen asleep, vowing to show you just how much he cared the next day.

“I love you more than you know.”

Deuce Spades

We all know that Deuce isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, yet you found that endearing. The way he showed his care for you was so obvious it was hard to ignore. How he clearly favored you over Ace, sending threatening glares to any student who dares to look at you the wrong way. You had never felt safer than when you were with Deuce, so you’d try to reciprocate…yet he always seemed to outshine you in your made up care competition. Yet you quickly found his weakness after he shied away after you hugged him once. So when he did something so endearingly silly, it was only natural for those three words to slip…rip Deuce. He stammered, face blazing red as he tried to wrap around what you said, trying to untangle any hidden meanings. Bashfully, he couldn’t meet your eyes as he responded.

“I…love you too.”

Ace Trappola

This menace. He flexes all the time, claiming how you must love him with the way you follow him like a puppy. Yeah…he makes it hard sometimes. So out of spite you’d go to Deuce, causing Ace to sulk. It was in those moments that you realized he was lowkey (highkey) projecting his feelings onto you. It helped you deal with his unabashed praise for himself. You found yourself teasing Ace back, poking him and irritating him (he did find it annoying but he’d rather your attention be on him then anyone else). He’d show off during his games, always looking towards you and making him a clumsy mess on the court. When you finally muttered how you felt (somewhat bitterly) Ace felt his brain shut down for a second before quickly rebooting, a shaky smirk on his face with bright red cheeks as he replied.

“Of course you do! Who wouldn’t- OW! Okay, okay, I l-like you too I guess.”

(bro couldn’t even say love you back 💀)

Leona Kingscholar

To anyone who didn’t know him, they’d think he was indifferent to you, if not annoyed by you. Yet to your and Ruggie’s keen eyes it was easy to see his affection for you crack through his impervious exterior. How he’d drag you with him for his constant naps, how he’d let you play with his hair, and how he’d glare at anyone who seemed to get a little too friendly with you. Leona didn’t like being vulnerable, after all, showing your belly meant submission and death. So when you said those three words he’d dreamt of you saying, how lovingly you were staring at him as you fiddled with one of his braids, he felt his scowl worsen at the fluttery feeling in his chest. His green eyes glanced away, his face softening back into a neutral expression.

“I better be the only one you say that to, herbivore.”

Ruggie Bucchi

He’s another one that people can’t tell if he likes you or is using you. Whenever you were seen with him you were helping him with chores (in reality you only helped him so you both could relax together afterwards). It was clear how much you cared for him, bringing him snacks, helping him with chores, offering to pay for his meals (rip your already bare wallet). In return, he’d share with you. A feat that no one had ever seen him do before. Ruggie never felt guilty for taking/getting food…that was until you never seemed annoyed by how much he took from you. So he felt it was only fair if you had some too…you did pay for it after all. He found his tail wagging when you smiled at him, hugging him, or even when you ruffled his hair. So when you said that! Those words he never expected to be uttered from your lips, let alone aimed at him, his tail just couldn’t stop moving! No matter how composed he seemed, it was like his brain was on fire (insert that spongebob clip).

“Shishishi, I suppose I might feel the same…the price for that information is the other half of your donut. Shishi.”

Jack Howl

This guy. Definition of tsundere. Acts like he wants nothing to do with you while sticking by your side for as long as he can. The nice thing is that he helps you become more healthy. He never forces you, but you feel more inclined to join him in his ‘morning’ jogs (his morning jog is way too early for you so it's technically his second jog of the day and he calls it his wind down jog). Everyone can tell how he feels for you, it's clear in the way his eyes are always searching for your comfort, how he steps in when someone gets too pushy, or when his tail sways when all your attention is on him. Another guy you feel super safe with. The two of you were studying when you said it, atmosphere warm. Jack’s ear twitched, unsure if he heard you correctly, eyes searching yours for confirmation. When you gave no indication that you were joking or being silly, it felt like his heart flipped.

“I…care about you…as well.”

Azul Ashengrotto

He is sneakily unseaky about his feelings. One moment he’s treating you like an actual valued guest with no hidden intentions (😒) and the next he’s lowkey (highkey) flexing on you. Mixed signals because you aren’t sure if he’s trying to make you feel bad about yourself or if he’s trying to make himself look better to you. “Oh don’t worry, this won’t put a dent in my pockets,” He’d say with a smug smirk (you’re lowkey side-eyeing him). One time you poked him to see how’d he react and it was super amusing. Ran away with the brightest blush you’d ever seen claiming he had work to do…yeah…right. When you realized he is in fact trying to impress you (and realized it was really fun to tease him with affection), you became more comfortable around him, looking forward to the next time you could visit the Mostro Lounge. It got to the point that Jade would just bring you to the VIP room (if Azul wasn’t busy swindling a poor soul). When you spoke those words it came out of seemingly nowhere, Azul spilling ink all over a contract he just finished writing. He was so close to darting out of the room, face ablaze, hands trembling. Do you know just how powerful those words are?

“P-perhaps…d-do you…I-I think…” (You broke him, don’t worry he just needs time to collect himself. He loves you too 💖)

Jade Leech

Rip. It kinda takes a lot to catch his eye (do you even want that?). He found it amusing how kind you were, you wouldn’t make it for a second in the deep (k…). Yet what really caught his eye was that you were a green thumb. How you recognized one of his mushrooms and the gleam in your eyes as you stated all you knew about it (not much, but more than anyone else he’s met). Now you have a scary eel that pops up every now and then. Jade only cared about mushrooms, but now on his hikes he’d spot a plant you liked (every now and then bringing it back for you). Downside, you now had Floyd’s attention as well. I mean c’mon, his brother finding interest in someone? He just had to check the guppy out…thankfully Jade stopped him from squeezing you (a true testament of his care for you). The words spilled out of you when Jade had offered to…’help’...with a certain…’problem’ of yours (an annoying student who wouldn’t leave you alone). A look of pure shock washed over his face before it quickly turned into a cunning grin, something that sent the hairs on your arms to raise.

“My my, what a bold statement. Please, treat me gently would you?~” (He did not forget about your ‘problem’)

Floyd Leech

Rip #2. You know he cares (sometimes) when he stops calling you guppy (sometimes he does it just to annoy someone cough Riddle cough). Your case was a mix of both. One time when Floyd wouldn’t stop poking your cheeks you poked his nose with a ‘boop’, and he had deemed you boops. Also wouldn’t stop booping you back after that. He is not ashamed at all. He’d squeeze you, drape over you, pick you up, poke you, nearly kill you. The usual. You always would pretend to be annoyed (although sometimes that annoyance was very real) and Floyd always found your reactions hilarious. Although he had his bad moods, 6/10 times he’d feel better when you booped him. Jade would tease him, Azul would ask you over to the Mostro Lounge more often, even Riddle would avoid you (because where you were Floyd had to be nearby). When he was in a bad mood and you booped him while saying “I love you~”, Floyd froze. Sharp eyes watching your every move like the predator he is, a wide grin revealing his sharp teeth.

“Awwww, I love ya too Boops! Now lemme squeeze ya!”

Kalim Al-Asim

Where do I even start? He’s loving on you the moment he sees you. Hugs, cheek kisses, hand holding, it's all normal to him. He cares about you so why wouldn’t he show you? Poor Jamil, he was really stressed at first, unsure what your intentions were. So to start, you had to prove yourself to Jamil, Kalim had accepted you the moment his eyes landed on you. The more you hung out, the clearer your affection for Kalim shined, and you two were basically a married couple at this point. It was easy to care for him, reciprocating his affection without hesitation. Idk there's not much to say about him, he’s just a loving and carefree guy. It was when you both were winding down, hanging out with just the other, doing some homework (one of the ways you proved yourself to Jamil). Your dreary eyes watched as Kalim swayed in place, his eyes soon meeting yours. His beaming smile had all your defenses down, words falling out without you realizing it. It wasn’t until Kalim jumped at you, squeezing you tightly, face nuzzling into your neck.

“I love you too! We should get married!”

(😅)

Jamil Viper

It’s admirable that you managed to break down Jamil’s walls. He was even more surprised at how your attention would always seem to land on him instead of his insufferable prince. No matter how much Kalim basically begged for your attention, your eyes would always drift to Jamil, a warm smile on your lips when your eyes met. He showed his affection for you in how he looked after you. He had grown up taking care of someone, and although he found himself hating Kalim for his position, for Jamil’s spot in the world, he found himself enjoying caring for you. He loved how your eyes lit up when he offered you lunch, he had made too much anyways (riggggghhhht…), he felt his heart flip when you offered to help clean up or when you offered to help braid his hair. It was still hard for him to wrap his head around the fact that you truly cared for him and had no ulterior motives. His heart beat erratically when you said those words, when you looked only at him so lovingly, how your hand caressed his cheek so tenderly. It was all so overwhelming and he pulled away, pulling his hood up to hide his blush. His tongue felt heavy and he wasn’t sure if he had the heart to let himself be so vulnerable.

“Let’s continue this later…but rest assured I feel a similar way.”

Vil Schoenheit

Ohhh boy. Vil, as much as I love him, might be a bit overbearing at first. If anything, you’d feel ashamed about yourself at first. You never seemed to be good enough as Vil would always find something to pick apart about you. You’d eat too many carbs, your uniform was wrinkly, your eyebags seemed to be more pronounced. When you snapped, crying and pleading for him to just stop, that you knew you weren’t beautiful or perfect like him and you didn’t want to hear it anymore, Vil had to rethink how he showed his care. He didn’t say those things because he thought you were ugly or terrible, he only wanted you to better yourself. To become more healthy and to take better care of yourself. Reflecting, he realized just how mean he seemed…enter the spoiling. Instead of nit picking you, he would give you stuff without a word. You found yourself with skin care products made by him (he didn’t want to taint your skin with bad ingredients), he would bring you a balanced lunch (perhaps breakfast and dinner too, if you’d be kind enough to join him), and he’d gift you outfits that complemented your figure perfectly (sometimes he’d have to get them costume made). It was a bit of a shock at the drastic change, but you found yourself doting on him more as well. You both were having dinner together, Vil complaining about his coworkers and you talking about whatever you were into at the moment. When he mentioned something he’d think you’d like you found yourself sweetly telling him you loved him. He was astounded, eyes locked on yours. As much as he tried to be composed, he couldn’t deny the fluttering of his heart or the heat on his cheeks.

“I love you as well, my sweet potato.”

Rook Hunt

This man 💀. At first you were terrified. Man was literally stalking you. You even went to the professors for help because excuse me? Stalking bad. And as much as Rook took amusement in your actions, he decided to finally get to know you…face to face (he already knew a ton about you). You gave him bombastic side eye when he first was trying to talk to you. He’d pop out of bushes (strangely no leaves stuck in his hair), he’d appear right behind you…one time he seemed to appear from literally nowhere. Against your own will, you warmed up to the freak. When he wasn’t continuously complimenting you, you found him to be funny. Rook is also unashamed about his love for you, he’d shout it from the roof tops if you asked. He also took the fact that you were warm to him as a sign of affection. You didn’t nearly deck him for popping out of the bushes this time? Oh mon chéri, his heart melts that you felt his presence to be so comforting. It felt weird, Rook had complimented you many times, spouting about how much his heart yearns for you. You almost didn’t want to tell him that you loved him, a bit spiteful since you knew how smug he’d look afterwards (you’d never live it down either). Yet when Rook handed you a rose, spieling about how it could never compare to you, you found yourself crumbling. Instead of that smug look you expected, he looked genuinely happy. Green eyes bright and shining, smile so wide you thought it split. Yet that gleam soon looked like that of a predator who finally caught his prey.

“Mon chéri, my heart weeps with joy, I cannot imagine a world without your brilliance shining. Avoir son cœur est la plus grande récompense.”

Epel Felmier

Epel is a tough nut even if he looks cute. He’d tease you mercilessly (Ace moment) on some days, while most he found himself complaining to you. Vil would work him tirelessly, and he can handle tough work! You’d sneak him candy or some jerky (that was more manly than candy). He found himself always trying to impress you, whether it be carrying something heavy or showing you his grades (he improved from last time okay). He loved how you complimented his strength or his intelligence, but deep down he was scared you saw him as a cute prim boy that Vil was trying to turn him into. If anyone tried anything with you he’s the one you’d go to, making his chest puff in confidence. Of course he’s trying to not fight so Vil won’t punish him, but a stern talking too wasn’t out of the picture. You both were relaxing under a tree. You mindlessly watched Epel as he carved an apple, handing you pieces when they were cut perfectly. Another one who can’t handle it when you say it. Eyes wide, shoulders hunched, face matching the apple he was holding.

“Ya c-can’t jus’ s-say that! Y-you tryna k-kill me? ‘Tch, you’re lucky I like ya too.”

Idia Shroud

He’s such a simp. Some days he can barely squeak out a word to you, hiding himself in the comfort of his hoodie, others he’s flexing on you about just how much more he knows about a game than you. When he’s feeling extra generous (trying to get y’alls intimacy meter up to max) he’ll buy you the fancy currency in your favorite gacha game, go on, do as many ten pulls as it takes to get your favorite character up to max level. His favorite moments are when you both are watching an anime together, in the same bed…it makes his heart explode just thinking about it (dudes on the opposite side of the bed 💀). What makes him care for you even more is how you interact with Ortho. You two are his favorite people and seeing how well you both get along just further warms his heart. When you muttered those words to him, he literally screamed. Hoodie up, hiding under his blankets, his hair the brightest pink it’s ever been. He felt light headed and he was sure if he opened his eyes his vision would be spotty.

“G-gah! Your charm is maxed out! It’s n-not fair that you had the special dialogue to insta kill me.”

Ortho Shroud (platonic only obvs)

He is just a little ray of sunshine. He’s the reason why you got so close to Idia in the first place. He’s always on the hunt for any potential friends for him and his brother. You were always sweet to him, doting on him and calling him cute. Ortho honestly thought of you as another sibling (might as well be with how much you hype him up). Ortho would always try to accompany you if he had time, always ‘hinting’ at you to visit his brother (bro is not hinting, straight up just asking). He felt his cpu warm as he processed his happy feelings at watching you and his brother get along, as well as when you always brought Ortho over to join you both. It didn’t take long for you to tell Ortho you loved him, I mean he was just so adorable!

“I’m so happy! I love you too!”

Malleus Draconia

I hope you're ready to become a royal beside him. He shows he cares with grand gestures (which Lila helps make them smaller gestures). Malleus is used to people fearing him, and the fact that you didn’t? Man was gobsmacked. He shared his interests with you, and you shared yours with him. He would research anything you said that he didn’t understand (it was even better if you were the one teaching him). If you thought your affection was spilling over, Malleus’ was flooding. It turned into him giving you fine jewelry, clothing, flowers, food, you want it, it's yours. He cared for you greatly, and he was unsure how else to show his affection. You gave him a hug? He’d hug you now as a greeting. One time you booped his nose and he went cross eyed following your finger. You’d almost spilled your guts then (I’m surprised you didn’t cus that shit’s adorable). You always confused him with your cute forms of affection, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. It seemed impossible for you to keep in your love any longer on a bright, moonlit night. As you stared into the night sky, you spilled those three little words that unknowingly sealed your fate. Malleus felt his heart be set aflame, eyes taking you in. It was then that he finally thought of a perfect ring for you.

“I love you as well, child of man. More than you could ever imagine.”

Lilia Vanrouge

As silly and carefree as he was, Lilia wasn’t ready to love again. He had his family, and that was all he cared for. So when he found himself messing with you more, missing when you weren’t around, wanting to cook for you (rip #3), he felt scared. Love never went well for him, it was almost like he was cursed, and those he cared for were ripped away from him. Yet you were so sweet, trying his food and trying to give him pointers on how he could improve. The cute scared face you made when he popped out of nowhere. Gosh you made it so easy to love, it was honestly unfair. He was supposed to be the cute one! You can’t go stealing his title! You also found it a struggle to love Lilia. You knew he was older than time itself (💀), and honestly you felt a bit weird for falling for him. I mean, you were so much younger, and he was a fae. It just seemed like a lot, so you kept your feelings to yourself. That was until one night, Lilia was tucking you in since you fell asleep on him, and you muttered those cursed words as you drifted off. He actually avoided you for a few weeks after that, and you felt embarrassed that you slipped. It wasn’t until he could no longer avoid you, missing you too much and having thought it through enough.

“I hope you understand the weight of your words, after all, us fae stay with our partner for life.”

Silver Vanrouge

He is so easy to get along with. He’s always looking out for you, offering you snacks when you're hungry and handing you water when you haven’t drank any yet. While he does find himself dozing off a lot, he appreciates when you try to poke him awake or go over the material he slept through. No one even questions your status, they just assume you're together with how lovey dovey you both act. He’s fallen asleep on your shoulder more times than he can count, his soft hair tickling your neck. He’d apologize when waking up, but you were too entranced by not only his beauty but the cute animals that now surrounded you both. Not to mention the way your heart would pitter patter as he would promise to defend you, his shining eyes showing complete seriousness. You had whispered your love for him when he was sleeping, gently playing with his hair. You thought he wouldn’t hear, but boy were you wrong. His soft eyes blinked open sleepily, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Am I dreaming? I hope I’m not, because I love you too.”

Sebek Zigvolt

Another tsundere ass. He gets overwhelmed by his feelings for you so often I’m surprised your eardrums aren’t permanently damaged from his constant yelling. It was confusing for him because the only other person he felt a somewhat similar feeling towards was Malleus Draconia, and you were nowhere near the level of the future king of Briar Valley. He’d take his strange feelings out on you, inadvertently pushing you away. Thank the sevens for Lilia (or not) because the bat fae would always have something to say about Sebek when he’d see you. “Have you heard of how brave Sebek was?” “Have you seen how cute he is when his face turns red?” Thankfully, Sebek got used to the pitter patter he felt when you smiled at him, no longer scolding you for…smiling? Another one that you learn tends to project. He’s degrading you for being human? Well he’s half human too, so he probably feels the same about himself more than you. Which causes you to try and compliment him more…which leads to him shouting, cycle repeats. I hope you brought ear plugs, cus the moment you spilled your guts, the soft atmosphere turned harsh. His face lit up red as his shoulders rose to his ears, be prepared for a flustered, shouting croc.

“C-cease your tempting words human! I-I only have eyes for Waka-sama! I have no time for foolish endeavors that will ruin my position! W-wait, don’t l-leave! I n-never said I didn’t f-feel the s-same!”

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