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myspacebrat · 1 month

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★ 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐨.

𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐬𝐟 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝓍 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: your brothers best friend asks you out to a movie, as a last resort when your brother isn’t home. Although you weren’t his first option, how could you say no when you’ve been in love with him forever?

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut, 18+ mdni, public sex, fingering, unprotected p in v, cream pie, dirty talk, a tiny mention of gore and death, fluff.

The door bell rings out in your quiet house, it’s late and you were just about to slip into something comfortable before the unknown guest interrupted. You’re also home alone, so as your socked feet carry you down your stairs and up to your front door, you yell out a quick. “Who is it?” Before you even think about touching the lock.

“It’s eddie.” The voice on the other side shouts through the thick wood.

Your pulse thumps, as it always does in close proximity to the metalhead. God, you were hopeless! This crush was not supposed to follow you into adulthood, but here you are still crushing on your brother’s best friend.

You twist the lock and open the door, before popping your head out to tell him your brothers not home, but when you see his face with that adorable smile and those puppy dog eyes, all train of thought leaves you. God, did he have to look so good? His black band tee hugged his muscular torso, deliciously. His jeans as tight and sexy as always and the cherry of the cigarette illuminating his face and the craziness that was his mop of hair.

“Hey, what’s up? is Matt here?” His hopeful eyes bore into yours, and you cant help the gulp you take before you try to find your words.

“He’s at Crystals.” Is all you can string into a coherent sentence.

“Ah shit, that’s too bad. I got two tickets to a midnight showing of nightmare on elm street.” He shoves his hands into his pockets and bounces on the balls of his feet, in his beat to death reeboks.

“Oh, I’ve been wanting to see that one!” You beam enthusiastically. “I’m sorry, he said he’s gonna be gone until tomorrow. I can call him and let him know you’re here.” Now that you’ve found your words, they begin to leave your mouth a mile a minute.

“Nah, that’s alright don’t bug him.” He says as his eyes begin to rake over your body, as little by little you’ve exposed more of yourself from behind the door. “What about you? Are you busy right now?” He asks, catching you completely off guard.

“Me? Oh um, well no, not really.” You murmur, as your belly swoops at the thought of him asking you to go. You and eddie haven’t hung out one on one since you were both kids, and it was never intentional. It was always the result of your brother doing something stupid and getting called downstairs so your parents could reprimand him as you and eddie carried on with whatever it was you were doing, which usually included video games.

“Yes you, c’mon it’ll be fun. I really don’t want to waste this ticket.” He says with a pout to his pink plump lips, his eyes shine in desperation and before you can even analyze over the answer in your head, you’re agreeing, because how could you not?

“Fine, just give me a couple minutes.” You usher him inside, then run upstairs to put yourself together as fast as humanly possible.

The theater is empty when you both stroll in, eddie guides you by the small of your back up the steps, to a dark little corner in the very back. You try not to be hopeful that he’s picked such a hidden corner for devious reasons, but butterflies still flutter around in your stomach at the thought.

He lets you sit closer to the wall, while he gets the aisle seat. You’re willing to bet if anyone else was in this theater, you’d be completely hidden from wondering eyes.

“This okay?” He asks, as he grabs a handful of buttery popcorn before offering you the bag.

“It’s perfect.” You respond back taking your own handful of the greasy kernels.

Once the previews pass and the lights dim, you begin regretting the mini skirt you threw on. Luckily you paired it with leg warmers, but they didn’t help much when the vents kicked on for the main future.

“You cold?” Eddie asks, leaning over the arm rest to whisper in your ear, as if you two aren’t the only ones in the theater. Apparently no one else in Hawkins was up for horror at midnight.

“Yeah, but it’s okay.” You respond back, meek as ever.

“It’s alright pretty girl, I got you.” He begins removing his leather jacket before draping it over your goosebump riddled legs.

Pretty girl? Since when has he ever referred to you as that? Fuck, you couldn’t help but squeeze your thighs together, not only was that phrase the most effortlessly sexy thing you’d ever heard leave his mouth but the gesture of him warming you up with his jacket had your brain reeling with thoughts, the ones you had late at night that you wouldn’t dare share with another soul.

As the movie went on, and the popcorn and sodas were empty; you couldn’t stop squirming in your seat everything just too much of an aphrodisiac for you. The way eddie would laugh at every gory scene, the smell of his amber cologne that would waft up to your nose every time you wiggled your hips, not to mention just the simple fact that horror movies and the sex scenes in them made you hot.

“Aw, you scared over there, princess?” The metalhead mocks with a playful pout, before he slips his hand under his leather jacket and onto your exposed thigh. “You’re okay, I’m right here.” He whispers, his warm breath hitting the skin of your neck, just below your ear. The shiver that racks your body is intense and has you feeling needy for those plump pink lips to kiss and suck on that same area of skin.

It doesn’t help when his warm hand begins rubbing along your thigh, up and down in slow, gentle motions.

You know Eddie’s always been a touchy dude, but this seems like more. He’s never called you pretty girl or princess and certainly never rubbed your damn thigh. He could totally be fucking with you, and that thought makes your stomach sink a bit, like this whole thing is just some big joke because he was bored and had no one else to hang out with tonight. You pray it’s anything but that, you don’t think you’d be able to survive that heart break.

But there’s that second option, the one that has you rubbing your thighs together, again. Jesus, being around him like this has you acting like a bitch in heat, unable to control that constant need for friction. The thought of Eddie flirting with you, intentionally touching you because he wants you, has you wiggling your hips in an effort to rub your clit against the rough seats. His fingers tighten, digging into the skin of your thigh and bringing your wanton need to a halt.

“Is there a reason you’re wiggling your hips like that over there?” He questions, in a low but demanding tone. One you’ve never heard from him before, one that could make you come with just one more brush against your throbbing bud.

You squeak in embarrassment, realizing he felt the movement and has caught onto what it was you were doing.

“I asked you a question, pretty girl.”

Theres no way words were leaving your mouth, not when his face is mere inches away from yours, breathing on such a sensitive part of skin, the callouses on the tips of his fingers digging into your plush thigh, the metal from his rings no doubt making imprints you wish would last forever. Words simply didn’t exist in this moment, none that made sense to you, anyway.

“C’mon, come sit on my lap since you’re such a scaredy cat.” He taunts, giving your thigh one last squeeze before his ringed hand slips out from underneath the leather.

He puts the arm rest that was snug between you, up and out of the way before giving his right leg a pat, silently telling you to move it.

Your face heats as you continue to stare at the spot, if he thinks you’re going to be able to sit on his lap without squirming he’s got another thing coming.

Sliding your hands underneath your bottom to be sure your skirt doesn’t bunch up and show off the little lacy panties you have on underneath. You stand taking a few steps, before turning back towards the big screen and slowly sitting down onto his boney thigh. It’s definitely not as comfortable as the seat you just left, you wiggle to find the right spot, making his hands shoot out to grip your hips tight, halting your movement.

“You gotta stop moving, kitten.” He groans into your ear. What is with these pet names? He seems to have an abundance of them tonight.

“Sorry, just trying to get comfy.” You whisper back.

“Here, just lay back. Put your head on my shoulder.” He murmurs, helping you settle your back onto his chest, leaving your head to rest on the space between his shoulder and neck. “Perfect, good girl.” He says into the shell of your ear, he really is trying to kill you tonight.

You’re so in your head while gazing at the movie, that you don’t even see the telltale signs of a jump scare before it’s too late. Your whole body jerks, your ass landing on something hard and whatever it is, is poking you between your thighs. Eddie lets out a strangled gasp, instantly revealing exactly what it is you’ve accidentally made your seat. You freeze, not ready to acknowledge your embarrassing mistake. But also, the friction feels fucking good.

His hands fall to your thighs before covering you back up with his heavy, leather jacket. They slip back under, grabbing a hold of your doughy flesh.

While another helpless teen gets murdered on screen, you feel eddie rock up into you pushing his clothed cock deeper between your thighs.

“Fuck.” He exhales into the side of your face before pushing you down into his lap as he searches for more friction between your bodies.

“Eddie.” His name slips from your lips in a moan, but you don’t care to preserve yourself any longer, you’ve wanted this man for so long, if a single night in a movie theater is all you get, then so be it.

“What is it baby? What do you need, hm?”

“Need you eddie.” You whine in desperation as you both continue to rock your hips into each other, the movie now just muffled background noise, as you get lost in the pleasure together.

“You gotta say it, tell me what you really want.”

“I w-want you to f-fuck me.” You stutter, trying your best to gain some type of coherence over your thoughts. You hate that he’s urging you to put into words what you really want, but at the same time you’re turned on because he wants to hear those vulgar words leave your lips, that’s gotta count for something, right?

“Try that again, sweet girl. C’mon, say it like you really want it. You can do it.” His words are demanding but there’s a gentleness to them, you still can’t help the fact that in your mind they read as condescending and for some reason that turns you on too.

“Need you to fuck me eds, please?”

“That’s my good girl, that wasn’t so hard was it?” His fingers trail your thigh, before landing over your clothed mound making you gasp from the tiny shred of relief it gives you, making you so much bolder than you were just seconds ago. Your hips rock against his erection.

“No, but this is very hard.” You giggle as you continue to rock your hips down onto him. You look back and see the smirk on his face, it’s cocky and so very Eddie, it makes your heart skip. It’s surreal to be in this position with him after the love you’ve harbored for him all these years.

“Yeah, hard for you. I have the girl of my dreams grinding her ass on my dick, of course I’m hard.” He says before moving the fabric of your sodden panties to the side. Your head spins at his words, did you hear him right? The girl of his dreams, since when?

When his fingers glide through your slit, and begin rubbing on your little bundle of nerves, your mind goes blank and now all you want is that white hot, relief.

“Look at you, so fucking wet for me. You’ve been wanting this too, haven’t you? Been wanting your brother’s best friend’s cock. Naughty girl.” After smooth circles over your bud, a finger plunges inside you, and fuck if the intrusion isn’t just what you needed. After a few pumps he’s slipping in another finger alongside the first. Your wetness so loud it can almost be heard over the movie still playing in the background.

“Oh fuck, listen to that tight wet cunt. Can’t wait to stick my cock inside you, baby. Jesus, I don’t even think I’ll last long. You feel so fucking good, so tight.” He babbles, as he continues fucking you with his fingers.

“Please, your cock Eddie. I need your cock.” You whine, not recognizing yourself at all but you’re too turned on to be embarrassed or ashamed.

Eddie reaches for his jeans, unbuckling his belt before practically tearing the rest off in a haste to get to his dick. You feel it as he slaps his hard cock against your ass, then he’s lifting you up and slipping it between your bodies. He glides the tip against your folds and you wish so badly you could see what he looks like. Another time.

His cock breaches your hole, meeting a bit of resistance even though he tried his best to stretch you out with his fingers.

Eddie was so right about not lasting long, there’s no fucking way he was lasting more than a couple minutes in your tight, wet heat.

You rock your hips against his, doing your best to sink down onto him. There was a slight burn but you welcomed the pain, mixed with the pleasure it was mind blowing. If you weren’t careful you’d become addicted to that feeling.

Finally, once your ass is snug against his lower stomach and he’s seated deep inside you, you begin to bounce on him. Taking over the control as you use him for your pleasure.

“Oh fuck.” Eddie groans, his hands grip the sides of your ass as he helps you bounce on his dick. “That’s it baby, take what you fucking need.” His ringed hand comes down hard on your ass cheek, the loud slap ringing out into the empty theater.

You sit up, hands gripping the seats in front of you as you use them as leverage to bounce your ass. The slapping of skin and moans and groans are fucking obscene, and if someone came walking in right now, there’d be no doubt what you were up to. That made it all so much hotter.

You move Eddie’s leather jacket to the seat in front, before spreading your legs and using every bit of muscle in them to drive your hips down harder. It felt so fucking good, you didn’t want it to end, but you could feel that familiar sensation of your orgasm coming on.

“Lay back on me.” Eddie demands, and you follow without hesitation, getting reacquainted with his chest, but the angle is wrong and you can’t really move your hips like you want. The metalhead surprises you when he grabs the backs of your knees, hiking them up in the air, before lifting you and bringing you back down onto his throbbing cock. He was so fucking close.

He began bouncing you like his own personal pocket pussy, it was so dirty and hot and the angle had him hitting that sweet spot deep inside you. Your moans grew louder as your legs trembled.

“That’s it, you gonna come for me kitten? You gonna soak my fucking cock? Oh, I can feel how close you are, c’mon milk my cock baby, take every last fucking drop.” His words spur you on, and your vision becomes hazy as your pussy clamps down around him, your clit throbs as the fire travels throughout your lower belly. Your toes curl and your head falls back onto Eddie’s shoulder as he begins to bounce you for his own pleasure. It’s hard and fast and you could totally come again, but instead Eddie buries himself deep inside you one last time before he’s coming, the warmth of it making you shiver, as he groans and whimpers behind you.

“Fuck, you’re amazing.” He says through ragged breathes. He lowers your legs back onto the floor but makes no moves to slip out of you as his cock softens between your walls.

“Just stay here with me for a little longer, don’t wanna leave our little bubble yet.” He whispers as his hands gently rub over every inch of skin he can reach.

It’s now that you both realize the movies over and the credits are rolling, while the music masques over your shared, heavy breathing.

“Cmon, let’s get you cleaned up and then we can talk about how we’re gonna tell your brother, you’re my girl.” His presumptuous words would turn you off if they were coming from anyone else, but coming from him, they were music to your lovesick ears.

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie stranger things

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eddiesghxst · 9 months

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LIGHTS, CAMERA, ACCIÓN - AN EDDIE MUNSON X READER AU

credit for cute lil cut off divider: @cafekitsune

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18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: eddie munson x pornstar!reader

summary: eddie is short on rent this month and needs quick cash, luckily he stumbles upon an ad for casting in an adult film and finds himself shooting a porno with you

contains: strangers to lovers trope, drug and alcohol use, mentions of smoking, awkward situations, oral (f and m receiving), p in v (unprotected — be safe pls), mentions of people being judgemental of readers line of work, mentions of anal, slightly exhibitionism, lots of smut, a sliver of mechanic!eddie, and eddie being the charming loser he's always been <3

word count: 13.5k (i am so fucking sorry omg)

-masterlist-

Eddie might be way in over his head.

Eddie’s been naked in front of groups of people before (the high school boy's locker room is a scary place to be, honestly), but never in those awful days of forced physical education was Eddie’s dick the center of everyone’s attention.

It’s weird, no doubt about it, standing at the front of a conference room with a table full of producers and writers and whatnot just… ogling Eddie’s naked frame.

“Can you lift your dick, please? So we can see your balls.”

Yeah. This is definitely going at the top of Eddie’s ‘weird things I’ve done for money’ list.

Still, Eddie reaches down and presses his dick up against his lower stomach to give his audience an unrestricted view of his balls.

Jesus.

“Okay, you can put your clothes back on.”

Honestly, Eddie wouldn’t be in this situation if it weren’t for Robert, the manager at Eddie’s job— well, old job.

Robert had some kind of weird fucking vengeance out for Eddie. Maybe it was because Eddie came back high from, like, most of his lunch breaks, but should that really matter if Eddie still got the job done? How coherent do you have to be to organize music records by name? Not very fuckin’ much.

Robert disagreed, though, so he fired Eddie.

Robert was an asshole, though, and whenever Eddie would nicely warn him, ‘Hey, Rob, I’m gonna be out of town next Saturday,’ Robert would still fucking schedule him to close on that exact day!

Good riddance.

Except now, Eddie’s short on rent for the month, which is why he’s found himself standing fully naked in a room full of adult filmmakers.

Eddie’s almost dropped out of this deal ten times by now. He wasn’t sure if he was keen on the idea of his bare, naked body being out for the entire world and future generations to see. But then Eddie thought about it, and, well, he’s got a pretty decent cock. It’s an average size, and it’s not weird looking or anything, and his balls don’t sag— and, like, isn’t his dick primarily the star of the show? Eddie Jr. could pass for a star, Eddie thinks, and so do the people looking at it right now.

And he also really fucking needs the money, so. Porn it is.

Whatever.

Eddie could deal with it as long as he gets enough money to keep a roof over his head. Which reminds him— “Hey, uh, how much will I be getting paid, by the way?”

Eddie’s now fully clothed, car keys in hand, and ready to go now that he’s been dismissed, and he’s scratching the back of his neck as he waits for an answer.

One of the men at the table (Eddie thinks his name is Brian, but he’s not 100% sure) glances up at Eddie from the pile of papers he’d been sorting through, “Eight hundred for the booking and ten percent from the sales.”

Which, yeah, that covers Eddie’s rent. It also leaves a little bit of change in Eddie’s pocket, so “Sweet.” Eddie nods.

So, Eddie follows one of the assistants to her office, where she hands Eddie a file with the word SCRIPT written in bold and red letters, “Read over it, practice the lines a few times, do whatever you need to do to prepare for Friday.” She kindly smiles.

She’s sweet. Short, stout, and pretty, and she has these cute glasses that remind Eddie of a ladybug. Eddie takes the manila folder, bowing his head with a cheesy smile, “Thank you, Emily.”

“So, will I be getting a costume? Do pornos still have those dramatic plots with, like, pirates and shit?” Eddie rambles as he cracks the folder open to take a gander.

Emily snorts, “Sure, but unfortunately, you’re not a pirate for this one,” Eddie glances at her and dramatically pouts, “You will be taking on the role of a neighbor. Pretty simple and easy, not much setup needed, but I’m sure you’ll see that when you read over the script.”

Eddie looked over the script as soon as he got in his van, and Emily was right: there’s not much setup at all. There’s a few cheesy lines, cliche porno shit that definitely gets skipped over, and then they go straight to fucking. Eddie tries to run his lines a few times, but then he fails miserably, so he ends up tossing the script in his passenger seat and making a mental note to look at it later.

How hard can it be?

Apparently pretty fucking hard.

It’s Friday, and Eddie’s a chaotic mess as he walks in through the doors of the film studio. He’d just spent the last 30 minutes in his van trying to practice his lines, but Eddie was never the greatest theater kid, and the lines wouldn’t stick, so he ended up smoking a joint to ease his nerves.

People are bustling around the room, calling out orders and setting up lights, mics, furniture— the whole mile. It’s an entire ordeal that Eddie has walked into, and for a second, Eddie forgets that he’s one of the actual stars when someone walks up to him and says, “You're the new talent?”

“Huh?”

“New talent. Are you the guy we’re filming today?”

Eddie glances around and catches a glimpse of a half-naked girl eyeing him from across the room as a lady fixes her hair for the cameraman. She’s pretty. Gorgeous, actually. Nice body and soft-looking skin that Eddie would like to sink his teeth into and leave pretty little marks.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m Eddie.”

“Good. You’re late.”

Shit. Eddie must’ve lost track of time while practically hacking up a lung in his hotboxed van.

The person drags Eddie to a vanity and nudges him toward the high chair, “You’ll get your hair and makeup done, then we should be rolling in about half an hour.”

It’s jarring, really, seeing the amount of work that goes into the shitty raunchy films Eddie jacks off to, but it’s captivating nonetheless. Eddie can see the movement behind him through the vanity mirror, but he’s more focused on the pretty girl still posing for the camera. If that’s the girl Eddie will be working with, then this will be way easier than Eddie thought it would be because he’s already getting hard. Some might call it pathetic, but oh well.

“Hiya, hon! You the new talent?” A chirpy girl walks up behind Eddie, pearly white teeth and glossed lips working in tandem as she chews her gum and blows a quick bubble. She doesn’t wait for Eddie’s response as she digs her fingers into Eddie’s curly strands, tossing and gently pulling them about to see what she’s working with.

Her name is Nicki. She’s friendly and very talkative; Eddie comes to learn, because for the majority of the time that she’s working on Eddie’s hair, her mouth is running nonstop. Eddie doesn’t mind, though; honestly, it helps to take his mind off of whatever the fuck he’s gotten himself into.

Emily, the assistant from earlier, walks up to the vanity, her cute ladybug glasses slipping down her nose as she steps into Eddie’s view— and Eddie is happy to see a familiar and kind face. “Will you be needing a fluffer?”

Eddie blinks, eyes fluttering when the hairstylist dusts his bangs over his lashes, “Uh— a what now?”

Nicki loudly pops her gum as she shakes a can of hairspray, “A fluffer, honey. Someone to jack you off and get you ready for the scene.”

Eddie’s eyes widened for a split second, and he made the mistake of glancing over at the girl who was still modeling across the room. Her tits are out now, and they’re perfect, and she catches Eddie’s eyes for the second time, and it makes his already stiffened cock stir within his pants.

Eddie shakes his head as he looks back at Emily, his voice higher when he responds, “No, I uh… I think I’m good.”

Which, duh. Eddie's dick is practically breaking the seams of his jeans because of the pretty girl, and it’s only getting worse because now she’s walking toward him dressed in a white robe. “You must be Eddie.”

Eddie’s surprised you know his name, but then he figures, obviously, you must know his name given the fact that you’re about to let him swing his dick near you. “That’s me,” Eddie smiles, “You must be… I’m sorry nobody’s told me anything.” He awkwardly laughs.

You nod with a shrug and tell him your name, “Is this your first time filming?” You ask.

Eddie nods, “Is it that obvious?” He nervously asks. You shrug, “Most guys in the industry need more than a pair of tits to get that hard.” You nod towards Eddie’s crotch— and oh god. How embarrassing! She knows you were checking her out!

“No need to be embarrassed though, Eddie. Pretty soon, you’ll be shoving your cock down my throat, so.”

Eddie’s cock may have gotten harder from those words alone.

“A rookie? Seriously, Don?”

Your makeup is being done, so you don’t see how your manager rolls her eyes at you. “When I said I wanted someone fresh, I didn’t mean never-been-under-the-camera fresh.”

The makeup artist finishes with your touch-ups, and you take the opportunity to turn to Don and glare at her, “He doesn’t know what he’s doing, Don.”

The older lady waves a dismissive hand, “He’ll do just fine, babe,” she deadpans. You shake your head, turning to look at the man of the hour. He’s attractive; you’ll give him that. Tall, pretty curly hair, sweet brown eyes, a panty-dropping voice. Sure, he’s attractive, okay. But he’s got no clue how to do this type of thing. Clearly— I mean, you’re literally watching him gaze down at the dildos that have been lined up for you as if he’s never seen one in his life— which you doubt. If he knew how to find an adult filmmaking studio, then he’s definitely seen some fucking dildos.

You suppress a laugh when he accidentally drops a glass dildo, turning back to your manager as you ignore his chorus of apologies to the staff, “My case in point.”

Don fails to hold back a laugh, “So he’s a little off the walls,” she shrugs, “He’s cute though. And his dick is nice. Trust me.”

And, well, she’s not wrong.

Don’s never been one to lie without reason, so unfortunately, Eddie’s cock is nice. Pretty, even. Which is weird because after some time being in this industry, the thrill of a nice-looking cock has gotten lost on you because they practically all look the same— just different shades of colors, really.

But Eddie’s cock is nice in the sense that it’s real. He’s not shot up with steroids to make it overly veiny and big or cleanly shaved or any of that superficial camera-ready shit. No, Eddie is natural. He’s got neatly trimmed curly hairs across his pelvis that smell like his body wash when you nuzzle your nose against it, and he’s big enough to wrap your hand around, but you know the second he pushes inside of you, it will be a nice stretch. He’s cut, and he has a slight curve to the left, and he’s so sensitive his cock jumps when you tap the pearly white drop that leaks from his tip. You giggle, shuffling forward on your knees as you stroke him.

You’re already done with the opening scene, finally. Eddie couldn’t remember any of his lines, so it took a lot longer than it should’ve, but you think it was worth it either way because the way Eddie moans when you finally wrap your lips around his tip is the prettiest sound you think you’ve ever heard.

“F-fuck,” He quietly curses, hips shifting as you swallow more of him. He sinks a slightly shaking hand into your hair, gently cupping your head as you work your mouth over him. Your eyes flutter to gaze up at him, and your stomach flutters at the cocky grin he gives you. “You’ve got such a good little mouth on you, sweetheart. Gonna let me fuck it?”

You hum and nod as best as you can with his cock in your mouth, and he hums, “Open up for me, baby.”

You shift on your knees, finding a comfortable position for the action before blinking up at Eddie, indicating you’re ready. Eddie’s hands are steady and certain as he cups both sides of your head, holding you still as he draws his cock out once before slowly thrusting in until your throat tightens around his tip.

He fills your mouth so perfectly, just enough to where you won’t get bored, but you also won’t get an overly aching jaw, and you can’t wait to feel him inside you. Can’t wait to feel how his cock twitches when he first nestles deep in your walls or how much better the sounds he makes will be.

It’s a nice feeling, having Eddie fuck your mouth, and you usually don’t care much for shots like this because most of the time, it’s either underwhelming or overwhelming, but Eddie fucks your throat in a sense that’s dirty yet so caring. He’s spewing out filthy praises, and you're drooling onto his balls, but he’s looking at you with these soft brown eyes and caressing you so gently you might quiver. Fuck, you really wanted to hate him.

Behind the camera, the director makes a motion for you to cut to the next action, but since your back is to them, Eddie is the one that sees it and gently coaxes you off from his cock, cooing when you let out the smallest whine that only he can hear. He smiles, thumb running beneath your swollen lip to catch the strings of spit and cum, “What? You liked having me down your throat, sweet girl?”

You mewl, pressing your chin into his palm as you nod.

"Yeah. Want it, please?" You whisper. God, you didn’t expect to be fucked out within the first scene. "Aw, maybe next time, princess. You can keep me warm as long as you'd like."

It’s almost embarrassing, how much you like the sound of that and how it makes your tummy flip, but you don’t have much time to think about it because Eddie’s ushering you up from the floor to climb onto the couch and straddle his lap.

You’re both bare now, and when Eddie had first taken his shirt off, you wanted nothing more than to run your hands down his graffitied chest, but you were too busy sinking to your knees. But now you have the chance, and boy, do you fucking take it.

You marvel as you coast your hands across Eddie’s body, fingertips gliding through fields of inked stories and vast skin. His breath hitches when you graze over his nipples, and his hips shift beneath you, wet cock slipping against your sticky folds. You whimper, grinding down onto him, and he curses as he grabs ahold of your hips. “Y’like them?” He sweetly asks, referring to his tattoos.

"Yeah," you nod, grinding down harder to have his cock nestled between your folds, his ruddy tip nudging your clit. “I can tell you all about them if you want.”

You giggle at his timing, but before you can respond, a director speaks up from the side, “Less talking, please.”

Eddie glances over your shoulder and salutes the man, “Roger that, sir.”

You can’t help but snort at his actions, but you’re quickly hushed when Eddie reaches down to paint his cock between your folds before lining himself up, “Go ahead and sit on it, baby.” He whispers.

You listen, nuzzling your face against his shoulder as you wriggle yourself down the length of his cock.

And god, you love being fucking right. The stretch is so good, better than you had imagined it to be, and you can’t help the high-pitched moan that slips from your lips when Eddie thrusts up into you.

"O-oh. Oh fuck," You whimper. You’re practically boneless as Eddie fucks you, your entire body just draped over him as his hands dig into your ass to help bounce you on his cock. “Jesus fucking— you feel so good,” He pants, and you mewl, cunt clenching around his cock as he drills up into you. “You gonna cum for me, hm? Be my best girl and cum for me. I know you’ll sound so pretty.” He whispers.

Before you know it, you’re moaning out and writhing in Eddie’s hold, juices dripping down his cock and forming a sticky mess in the patch of curls at his base as you cum.

“Let’s have a shot from the back.”

Your body feels weightless as you and Eddie change positions so you’re on all fours. You’re blinking through a hazy fog, and it feels so good. Eddie’s hands send chills up your spine as they grip your waist and tug you towards him.

“Oh, baby, you’re shaking,” Eddie hums, running his hands over the fat of your ass, thumbs digging into the skin to spread you open. You’re so wet you can hear the sticky noise of your folds parting, and Eddie groans as he watches your pussy clench around nothing. “You open up so well for me, sweet girl.”

Jesus.

You don’t get much of a warning before you feel Eddie lapping and sucking at your cunt, devouring you until you’re nothing but a mess of moans and quivering limbs.

Jesus Christ, that wasn’t in the fucking script. Half of the shit Eddie’s doing isn’t in the fucking script, and it's making your head spin.

God, who is this man?

You whimper his name, reaching a shaky hand back to grapple at his hair, and Eddie nuzzles his face deeper into your cunt, nose nudging your ass in a way that makes your toes curl. He’s good. He’s really good, you’ll give him that.

You and Eddie go at it for about an hour, switching positions and pausing every now and then to get a good shot of your cunt wrapped around Eddie’s cock, or Eddie’s tongue lapping over your clit or tits.

And it's fun doing this with Eddie.

Eddie is like a breath of fresh air. Most guys in this industry are stuck up and make things annoyingly serious, and most girls are either bitchy or just want to get it over with, which you don’t blame them for.

But Eddie makes things feel so normal— like you’re just two best friends getting filmed having sex— because he keeps whispering tiny jokes to make you giggle. He tells you how pretty you sound and look, and he’s so incredibly clueless because he keeps leaning in and asking things like, “Is this, like, a good angle for the camera?” and “Should I maybe kiss you more?” and “Is it okay if I stop fucking you for a second? Because I’m about to blow.”

And all you can do is breathlessly moan and nod because he’s plunging himself so deep into you that it almost hurts, but it’s so good.

You’re so fucked out you barely even register Eddie’s words when he tells you he’s about to cum, but your body immediately reacts when he pats your hip, indicating for you to get ready.

You scramble down from the couch, limbs weighted from pleasure as you settle on your knees, batting your lashes up at Eddie as he towers over you, stroking his wet cock. Eddie rests a hand on your head, fingers grasping your hair to keep you still as he gazes down at you. You’re impatient, so you can’t help but let yourself sneakily lick the tip of his cock, and he grins, “It’s coming, precious girl. Stick your tongue out for me.”

You shuffle closer, sticking your tongue out as you eagerly await the taste of Eddie on your tongue— and when you get it, god, you never want it to stop. Everything about it is perfect: the way his face twists up, the way he tastes, the pretty moans he lets out. You want it on repeat.

You might buy this film just to relive it.

You take every last drop Eddie has to give you with a happy hum; a little bit catches your lip, and Eddie swipes it with his thumb before bringing it to his mouth and suckling. You whine, frowning and causing Eddie to laugh, “You got most of it, sweetheart. Can’t be too greedy, can you?”

It’s like you’re both in your own world. Only talking to each other and enjoying each other's bodies because Eddie just… it’s weird, but he makes the room go away. He makes things feel less performative— and maybe it’s just your hazy, blissed-out state of mind, but you think you might like Eddie.

You’re snapped from your trance when the director yells cut, and then everyone’s springing into action to tear down the set because another crew will be using it next. Eddie helps you stand on your wobbly legs, “You alright?”

You nod, “Great. You did good, by the way.”

Eddie leans forward and grabs your robe that had been pushed to the side. He smiles as he holds it open for you, “Thank you. You did pretty awesome yourself.” He responds as you slink your arms through the sleeves.

You turn to Eddie as you close your robe and tie it shut. Your assistant, Emily, hands Eddie a robe for himself, and he thanks her, curtly bowing his head as he grabs the plush article. “So,” Eddie starts as he slips on the robe. You both start walking towards the dressing rooms as he speaks, “Think I could make a career for myself here?” He asks.

You halt at that, turning to Eddie with a confused look, “Is that… is that not why you’re here?” You ask.

Eddie shakes his head as he ties his robe, “Nah, I got fired from my job. Needed some cash for rent this month.” He explains.

Is it selfish to say you’re disappointed to hear this? If Eddie had been wanting to join this industry, you would’ve had the opportunity to work with him again. But maybe it’s more selfish to say you’re happy he isn’t joining this industry. Eddie becoming an adult film star would mean half of the time, he’d be fucking other people, and unfortunately, that idea alone makes your gut twist with jealousy.

You nod, pursing your lips as you fiddle with your fingers, “Well… would you be interested in this type of thing?” You try your best to sound casual about it, and you think it works because Eddie only shrugs again with a short hum, “I don’t know. Wouldn’t be opposed to it, I guess.”

Before you can respond, Emily calls your name, “Don needs to speak with you in the other room about your next shoot.”

You turn back to Eddie and try to commit his pretty brown eyes to memory, “I guess I’ll see you around, Eddie.” You smile. Eddie smiles back and does somewhat of a dramatic bow, and you snort as you walk off.

You glance over your shoulder as you walk with Emily.

“Could you do me a favor?” You ask her. Emily nods, and you take one last glance at Eddie before he disappears into the dressing room.

“Get his number for me. And leave it in my purse, please.”

A couple of weeks have passed since Eddie made his big debut in the film world.

Eddie made a pretty penny from that film, enough to pay his rent and have some play money on the side. Thankfully, Eddie doesn’t have to scramble for cash this month again because he got a job at the mechanic shop downtown. It’s a lot of labor and a lot of hours, but the pay is good, and nobody gives a shit if Eddie comes back from lunch smelling like a dispensary, so.

Suck that, Robert.

However, Eddie’s still thoroughly surprised to see you sitting in the shop office when he returns from a quick smoke break. “Woah, funny seeing you here. Car problems?” He questions. Eddie tries not to think about the fact that he’s seen you completely bare before. Tries not to think of how he’d spent over an hour in your guts last month or how you swallowed his load like it was nothing. Eddie fails miserably.

You shake your head as you stand up from the leather couch in the office, grabbing your purse as Eddie walks closer to you, “No, actually, Lola’s doing great.”

Eddie cocks his head, “Lola?”

You nod, “My car.” You gesture out towards the window where your car is parked. Eddie makes an understanding noise as he nods.

“I was actually hoping to talk to you.”

Eddie pauses at that, confusion settling over his body as he looks at you. You’re beautiful, kind, soft eyes with soft, pretty lips that Eddie thinks about kissing when he goes to bed. Eddie points to himself with raised eyebrows, “Me?”

You nod again, “Yeah, about like… my job and stuff.”

Oh.

Ohhhh.

“Oh, shit, yeah, um,” Eddie glances around the office and nods, “Yeah, we can step out and talk, like, in my van, maybe?” He offers. Not because he’s, like, ashamed to talk about porn or something, most people watch it! But a few of the guys that work here are downright dipshits, and Eddie won’t hesitate to punch one of them if they say some sly shit about you or your job. And, well, Eddie would like to keep his job, so.

You don’t take offense to it, though; you just nod with your pretty smile and tell Eddie to lead the way.

Eddie’s van smells like weed, cologne, and a hint of whatever he had for lunch.

“Sorry,” Eddie mumbles as he clears off the passenger seat that’s filled with bottles of different drinks, rolling papers, food wrappers, and things of the like. “She’s seen better days.”

You smile nonetheless, thanking him when he steps away and holds the door open for you. You hop into the seat, glancing around as Eddie shuts your door and jogs to the driver's seat.

He gets in with a heavy sigh, hair unruly from the wind, brown eyes wide and excited when he looks at you. “Hey.” He huffs with a smile, and there’s a piece of hair in Eddie’s bangs that’s sticking straight up. “Hey.” You giggle, reaching out to fix the rebellious strand. Eddie softly thanks you, and you swear you see a hint of pink dust across his cheeks.

He shifts in his seat, rubbing his hands against his thighs as he sighs again, “So… what’s up?”

God, he’s so cute. So incredibly weird and awkward and cute. He looks handsome in his navy blue coveralls, grease stains smeared across his torso, and some sneaky smudges on his neck. “You’re very hard to get ahold of, you know?” You tease.

Eddie’s face twists in confusion, “Huh?”

You shrug, distracting yourself by poking around at his dashboard, sifting through the CDs and tapes he has lying about. Eddie doesn’t stop you; he only watches, and you give him a cheeky smile. “My assistant got your number, right? But then you, like, never answered my calls.” You shrug as you flip through more of his things. You hear Eddie mumble something about needing a new cord for his home phone before he asks louder, " So, how’d you find me?”

God, he must think you’re a stalker or something. You didn’t really think that through, honestly.

You hum, “Just asked around a bit. You’re a bit of a hot commodity around here, by the way. Heard you started a cult? What’s that about?”

Eddie’s eyes widen at your words, and you laugh, “Oh god. Jesus, no, I didn’t start a cult. I just,” he groans as he pinches the bridge of his nose, “I was just weird in high school.”

“You’re still weird.”

Eddie’s face falters at your words, but you smile as you add, “I like it.”

Eddie blushes again, but he turns to look away this time, and you think he’s the cutest thing you’ve ever set your eyes upon. He turns back to you with a shy grin, “Did you come here just to flirt with me?” He teases, wrapping a strand of his hair around his finger to twirl in a shy manner. “Maybe… but I also have a question.” You respond.

Eddie nods, “Shoot.”

You take a deep breath as you shift in your seat, “Well, uh, I wanted to ask if you maybe…” You glance at Eddie, who's expectantly awaiting your question, and your stomach twists with nerves. Why are you so nervous to ask Eddie for something you’ve already done before?

“Well, I’m doing a shoot tomorrow,” you finally begin, “And I just found out the guy they paired me with is, like, a total asshole— I’ve worked with him before, he’s just… awful,” You explain. “So, I was just… I don’t know; I was just wondering— hoping— you’d be up for it, maybe? To take the guy's place, I mean.”

You finish rambling and glance at Eddie as his eyes widen, “Oh, um. Like— like, film with you again?”

Eddie could leap for joy right now.

Not only are you, like, the cutest, prettiest, kindest fucking human being to ever grace this earth, but you’re sitting in Eddie’s van, chewing on your lip and asking Eddie to fuck you for the cameras again.

Eddie must’ve done something incredibly right in his past life.

“Oh!” Eddie starts, “ Um… yeah, I’d love to!” What? Weird, take that back. “No, I mean, like, not in a weird way. I just— I’d rather not let the asshole do it if I can do it.”

God, could Eddie sound any more pathetic?

Still, despite how dumb Eddie sounds, you smile and clasp your hands together, “Oh, are you sure? I know it’s last minute, and it’s not really the ideal task—”

“Woah, wait. What do you mean not the ideal task?”

Because literally, what do you mean? How could that not be the ideal task? And who made you think that fucking you isn’t the ideal task? If it’s that asshole you were supposed to work with, then Eddie has a few colorful things to say about and to him.

You shrug, fiddling with your fingers in your lap, “Nothing, I just know my job isn’t… you know, traditional or whatever. And you had only done it that one time because you needed it, so I get it if you’re, like, not in the mood to fuck on camera for a bunch of random people.” You ramble. Which, uh, no. You could not be further from the truth. Eddie would love to fuck you on camera for a bunch of random people. Hell, Eddie would love to fuck you under any consensual circumstance, if he’s being honest, so. Yeah, he’s pretty excited.

“No,” Eddie shakes his head, “No, I— I want to, really, I do.” Eddie nods.

Your unsure frown spreads into the prettiest smile before you reach across the center console to pull Eddie into the most bone-crushing, you-scented, chest-warming hug Eddie’s ever been given as you spew out a chorus of thank yous.

“I brought a copy of the script for you to look over so you’re not totally confused,” Eddie watches as you pull back to reach into your bag and pull out a manilla folder. “I usually like to color coordinate my scripts, so I did it for you too. The pink is me, and the red is you, and the specific actions they want us to do are in blue.” You point out. And Eddie thinks he might kiss you right now— you’re so fucking cute!

“Wow, thanks, um… I wish I were, like… good with these types of things, but I think you saw how majestic I am with scripts.” Eddie huffs out a laugh as he scratches the back of his neck. You smile, “I can help you— if you’d like.”

Oh, you’re trying to kill Eddie at this rate.

Eddie nods either way, even though he’s six feet underground and knocking at the fiery gates. “I would love that, actually. I finish work in about three hours if you’re free.”

Eddie definitely broke a handful of laws while driving home.

Since you offered to help Eddie with his lines, you both decided to meet at Eddie’s place. He gave you his address, told you how to get into the complex, and said see you later. Now, Eddie is ecstatic to see you, obviously, but Eddie can’t remember if his home looked normal or like a Walmart clearance aisle after black Friday, so he ran through multiple stop signs and red lights to get home before you showed up so he could clear things up.

He’s hustling through his apartment like a madman, picking up strewn clothes and cat toys before speeding through the few dishes he had in his sink. Honestly, Eddie’s apartment has seen worse days, so there’s not much cleaning he has to do, but he’s still stressed when he hears a knock on the door.

Eddie doesn’t even like candles, but he lit one just in case there’s a smell he’s grown used to lingering about. Eddie just doesn’t want you to think he’s a slob. Because he isn’t. He just has an orchestrated chaotic lifestyle.

Eddie couldn’t be happier when he opened his door because there you were, beaming with a smile and a bag of takeout, and Eddie thought it wasn’t normal to be this soft for someone you’d basically just met.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Eddie dramatically bows with an extended hand to show the entrance of his small, homey apartment. You smile as you walk in, taking in your surroundings.

It’s nothing extraordinary, honestly. Eddie’s home is really just vomit of everything Eddie likes: favorite colors, favorite movies, favorite game characters, etc. It’s like Eddie’s brain exploded and painted itself all over the place. Eddie had a girlfriend many moons ago, and she changed things around to become more coordinated, so now it’s less of a shit show and more of an abstract museum sort of thing.

Whatever. Doesn’t matter anyway because you’re gasping and picking up the little roommate Eddie has.

“Who’s this?” You coo at the little creature. You’re looking down at the furball as you scratch behind her ear, “That,” Eddie sighs, “Is the reason why I didn’t get your calls.”

You look up at Eddie, confusion written across your face. Eddie points across the room to the wall where his home phone hangs, except the wire is broken. “Little asshole chewed through the wire, and I’ve been slow to replace it. Her name is Banshee.”

The cat meows at the mention of her name, wide eyes blinking up at Eddie as you coddle her. She’s a fluffy cat with a black coat decorated with two white spots: one on her back and the other just behind her ear.

You hum, “So technically,” You drag, “It’s your fault.” You tease. You coo as you press your cheek to the tiny kitten, gazing up at Eddie with these soft eyes, “I don’t think you can blame this cutie for your laziness.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, wills away whatever power he has to not kiss you, and gently takes the takeout bag from your hands so you have less to carry. “Fine then. Ask her what happened to the laces of my work shoes, too, since she’s so innocent.”

Eddie’s home is so… Eddie.

He’s got music and horror movie posters framed along his walls, cute little scary figurines randomly placed within his bookshelves, and there’s an overall smell of Eddie’s musk and the sandalwood candle he has burning. It’s cozy, a nice space for one person who enjoys their alone time, and he let you choose a record to play from his extensive collection, and he has the world's cutest little cat, so it’s safe to say you could spend an eternity in Eddie’s world.

“Shit, that wasn’t my line,” Eddie stresses. You smile as Eddie tosses the packet onto his coffee table and falls back onto the couch, “We’re wasting our time here, princess. I dropped out of theater for a reason.” He grumbles.

You sigh, tilting your head against the couch cushion as you gaze at Eddie, “You’re thinking too hard about it.” You say. “It’s a porno, not a Grammy-nominated film.” You point out.

Eddie snorts before giving a short shrug, “For the record, I think you could land a Grammy, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes, “Yeah, right. You don’t need to suck up to me, Eddie, you’re already gonna fuck me tomorrow.” You jokingly say.

Eddie waves you off and shifts into a more comfortable position. “So,” He starts, “What’s the asshole guy's deal?”

Banshee has hopped onto the couch and made her way into your lap, tiny paws kneading the material of your jeans as she settles. You gently pet her as you glance at Eddie and shrug, “Not sure, he’s just a total dick,” You grumble. “I worked with him once last year, and he, like, told me I wasn’t the best or whatever— which, okay, I can totally understand,” You ramble, “I don’t think I’m, like, some sex god. I don’t expect to be everyone or anyone’s best fuck, but still! It just… it didn’t make me feel good, the way he said it.” You windedly explain. You distract yourself with the cute animal in your lap as you finish your explanation, “So, I asked my manager never to pair us again, but—” You shrug.

Next to you, Eddie shifts once more and scoffs. “He’s a fucking shitfaced liar, princess.”

You snort, playfully rolling your eyes, “Eddie—” “No, I’m serious. He’s a liar. Anybody who even gets the chance to touch you is a lucky fucker, okay? If anything, he probably begged your manager to let him work with you again.”

“You’re just saying that. I don’t need you to try and make me feel better, and it was so long ago anyway.” “Yeah, but that’s the thing, I’m not.”

You frown as you gaze over at Eddie, watching as he sits straight and looks at you with a serious gaze in his eyes. “I don’t know what’s up with that guy, maybe he was dropped as a baby too many times, but anybody with common sense and a properly functioning dick knows just how fucking amazing you are. End of discussion.”

And well, it’s pathetic how your chest warms at his words, but it does. And as Eddie goes on to ramble about his hectic week at work, you can’t help but let your mind spin with Eddie’s kind words until nothing is in your mind but the echoes of Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

Not many times has Eddie woken up with a girl in his home. Well, at least not a girl that he’s actually liked for more than a one-night stand or a shortly-lived fling.

After running the script for the last time, Eddie suggested putting on a movie and digging into the takeout you’d brought. The meal was delicious, and the movie you’d landed on was hilarious, but it’s hard to keep your eyes open on a full stomach, so when Eddie felt your head drop onto his shoulder, he couldn’t help but let his body sink into the couch and fall asleep too.

You’d woken up about an hour later and tried to make your escape quietly, but Eddie insisted you shouldn’t drive in such a sleepy state, so he let you make yourself comfy in his bed. Banshee, the little traitor, trotted right behind you and left Eddie on the couch to snuggle up beside you for the night.

You’re cute in the morning, Eddie thinks. You have an adorable little pout, and you yawn about 80 times until you’ve had a sip of coffee.

It takes nearly a lifetime to drag you away from Banshee so you and Eddie can head to the studio because you adore the little asshole, and Banshee loves anything that’ll give her the time of day. You make Eddie promise to let you see her again, though, so you sadly say goodbye with a soft peck to the fluffy area between her eyes and let Eddie drag you to his van.

The car ride is nice; Eddie lets you mess around with the contents of his van and go through the stack of CDs he’s compiled over the years. You land on one of Eddie’s favorites, an old mixtape Wayne made in college that Eddie spent most of his high school blaring loud enough to blow out a speaker.

Today, you’re shooting in a house— a nice one that Eddie could only conjure up in his dreams—but he doesn’t have much time to dwell on it because he’s being dragged over to makeup and hair as soon as he steps in.

“You thinking of joining the industry?” Nicki asks as she works a nice-smelling mousse into Eddie’s hair.

Eddie had been busy watching you talk to one of the producers, but he finds the strength to tear his eyes away and gaze at Nicki through the vanity mirror. “No, not exactly. Just… doing a favor for a friend, I guess.”

Nicki raises an eyebrow, “A friend? Don’t act like I didn’t see you two come in together.”

Eddie’s face warms at that, the tips of his ears turning red as he stutters, “Huh?”

Nicki looks at Eddie with a ‘Don’t bullshit me’ look.

“I mean, like, yeah, we had breakfast together–” “Mhm.”

Eddie huffs out a gentle laugh, “No, really, we’re friends.”

“Friends that fuck on camera and look at each other the way you two do? Sure.”

Eddie doesn’t ask what Nicki means by that because— well, he knows what Nicki means by that. He’s caught himself looking at you like you put the stars in the sky one too many times, and it’s almost embarrassing. Almost.

But can you blame Eddie? Can you really blame him when you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, the softest smile, the greatest laugh, and the sweetest personality? It’s not Eddie’s fault that you’re perfect.

Eddie just thinks you’re neat.

He thinks you’re amazing, actually, and it’s hard to remember his fucking lines when you’re standing under a steaming shower, wet body glistening and pebbled nipples practically begging for his mouth.

He’s butchering the script, that’s for sure, but he figures it’s not too bad since nobody’s corrected him.

The scene starts with you taking a shower and Eddie being a peeping tom, which ultimately leads to Eddie sinking to his knees and licking into you until you’re a quivering, sticky mess on his tongue. Eddie would spend forever on his knees, between your legs, if he could because you taste heavenly and sound better than any song Eddie’s ever listened to, and that says something.

Your fingers thread through the wet strands of Eddie’s hair, and Eddie rapidly blinks when he gazes up at you, only to get an eyeful of his wispy bangs. You smile, petting back his bangs so he can see, and he hums, nudging his face further against you, his tongue teasing more, fingers curling deeper.

It doesn’t take long to make you cum, and the second you do, Eddie is standing up, shutting off the shower, and ushering you out into the expansive main bathroom. It’s almost as if it’s just Eddie and you in the room. No cameras, no directors or producers, or that weird pervy lighting guy that compliments you way too fucking much for Eddie’s liking. It’s just you and Eddie.

“Let’s do an over-the-counter shot next.”

Fuck. It’s not just you two, actually.

What a buzz kill.

Either way, Eddie finds himself pressing your wet, naked waist down against the sink, smiling when you squeal at the cold marble touching your skin. “Stick your ass out, baby, let me see that gorgeous ass.”

You mewl as you follow Eddie’s instructions, tipping your hips back to present yourself to him and the cameras. You’re dripping. Swollen and wet and throbbing, and Eddie— god, Eddie feels like a fucking animal.

“Got such a pretty pussy, honey. All wet and ready for me, hm?” He teases, gently running his fingers through the sticky arousal between your legs. You shakily breathe as you nod your head, “Yeah. All for you. Please.”

Eddie steps forward, grabbing his cock and painting it between your swollen lips as he hooks his other arm across your shoulders, pulling you back to press against his chest. He presses a wet kiss to the skin of your cheek in front of your ear, voice dry and needy as he whispers in your ear, “You’re so fuckin’ pretty,” His eyes catch yours in the mirror as you keen. “Ask me to fuck you.”

You whimper out loud, wriggling your hips back into his as your hands grip the counter, “P-please fuck me. Please. Need it so bad, want your cock so bad I— o-oh.”

The slide to home base is fucking otherworldly. It was life-changing the first time, and it’s life-changing now, and if Eddie ever gets the chance to fuck you again, he knows it’ll be life-changing then.

You’re so warm, and you're sucking Eddie’s cock in so nicely, so sinfully, that Eddie almost makes a deal with the devil right then and there. Your chest is heaving by the time Eddie’s pelvis presses to your bum, his cock nestled deep into your pulsing cunt. Eddie leans forward, pressing his chest against your back as he loops an arm around your shoulders, holding you tight to him as he gives one slow thrust. He coos when your eyes flutter shut, and your jaw drops, a shaky hand reaching up to sink your nails into Eddie’s forearm.

“S-so deep,” You slur, wriggling your hips back against Eddie.

Eddie grunts, “Fuck. You feel so good, baby. Always so warm and ready for me, hm?” Eddie’s lips are wet against your jaw as he whispers into your ear, and you nod with a mewl.

Eddie works up the pace relatively fast in favor of the cameras, and at some point, he reaches down to grip the thick of your thigh and haul your leg up to rest on the counter so you’re spread open even more. The angle makes it easier for him to catch your spot, and it’s better for the camera to capture the sight of your soaking pussy wrapped around Eddie’s cock, dribbling onto both of your thighs and creating a sticky ring of arousal at the base of Eddie’s dick.

Eddie’s hand is wrapped around your throat when you begin twitching around him, mumbling promises of your climax, and Eddie doesn’t waste time in sinking his hand between your legs to help you reach the edge quicker. Your moans fall silent, eyes squeezed shut, and jaw dropped wide open as Eddie fucks you through your orgasm— and fuck, you feel so good. Squeezing and pulsing and dripping around Eddie’s thighs, throat vibrating beneath his palm when air comes back to you.

“There we go, baby. Get it all out, push it out, honey.” Eddie encourages you.

You’re shaking, trembling like a leaf in Eddie’s arms, and Eddie wants to spend forever tucked into your pussy, warm skin sticky against him, pretty little whines and mewls coating his brain in this cutesy pink fog that makes him want to fucking marry you.

Get you a home, give you his babies, maybe even get you a fucking dog and just live happily goddamn ever.

Jesus, Eddie’s a goner.

“F-fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

Eddie pulls out last second, jerking himself off between your cute ass cheeks until he’s spurting white ropes of cum up your back.

Eddie, ever the considerate man he is, pushes your hair out of the way to avoid getting any of his sticky release in it. You’re breathing heavily, pretty eyes glazed over as you glance back at Eddie, a shy glint in your eyes at the sight of your skin painted in his cum.

Eddie’s obsessed with you now, no doubt.

His ringed fingers slide through the sticky mess on your skin as he grips your ass cheeks, gently spreading them apart and humming when you arch your back, proudly swaying your ass in front of him. The sight makes Eddie dizzy; pools of cum dripping down your back to slink its way through your ass and over your sticky folds. “You’ve got such a cute little hole, baby.” Eddie compliments, taking his thumb and smearing his cum over the puckered muscle, softly laughing when you whine.

He lightly slaps your ass then, reaching forward to gently grasp your face with his messy hands and pull you back to press a firm kiss over your lips. His thumb, the one that had smeared his cum over your tight hole, sinks between your moving lips, pushing into your mouth and onto your tongue as he whispers a small command to taste it, and you mewl.

“So good, princess—”

“Cut!”

You both jolt at the booming voice, getting rudely snapped out of the daze you’d fallen into.

These fucking cameras.

You smile, dropping your cheek onto your shoulder as you bat your eyelashes up at Eddie from over your shoulder, “You’re a natural, Eddie, you know that?”

Eddie huffs a laugh, thanking the assistant when they bring you towels and robes.

“Well,” He breathes as he slinks the robe over his shoulders, watching as you do the same, “I’ve got the best coach.” He winks.

Now that you and Eddie have done two films together and basically had a sleepover, you’re practically inseparable.

It’s funny, really. Eddie thought maybe the fact that you’ve seen each other bare and had sex on camera might hinder the aspect of any friendly connection because, well, Eddie’s never done this before! He’s not a pornstar, so he’s not sure how the friendship/relationship aspect of it works, but luckily, it’s easier than most normal friendships Eddie’s had before.

You talk almost every night over the phone (Eddie finally fixed the wire), going over one another’s day and laughing at embarrassing or funny moments. You go on for hours until either one of you falls asleep, and it’s usually you since Eddie has the sleep schedule of a newborn baby who doesn’t know the difference between night and day. All the better for him, though, because he gets to poke fun at you the next day and tease you about how you sometimes snore.

And Eddie loves listening to you talk— could spend hours cuddled up with Banshee as he listens to you ramble on about whatever new show you’re watching or the latest gossip at work. It’s Eddie’s favorite part of his day, talking to you, so he kicks himself when he realizes he forgot to call you last night.

He’s getting ready for bed when he remembers, and he practically sprints to his phone on his nightstand and dials your number in less than thirty seconds. It takes you three rings to answer, and Eddie smiles at the sound of your voice, “Hello?”

“Hi, princess,” Eddie responds.

You gasp, “Eddie, hi! Oh, I was just about to call you! Where have you been?” You ask. Eddie groans, dropping back onto his mattress with spread arms. “Working. I’m so sorry I forgot to call. I just started a new schedule at the shop, and the hours are awful.”

Eddie can hear your frown when you respond, “Bummer. I’ve got a way to cheer you up, though.”

Eddie’s eyes are closed, and sleep is so heavy in his bones he feels like he’s sinking through the mattress, but he smiles as if it’s second nature when he responds, “Hit me.”

You cheer, and Eddie hears the rustling of grocery bags on your end as you speak, “My manager gave me a shit ton of holiday chocolates she had left over, and well, I was wondering if you’d like to drown yourself in sugar with me?”

Eddie softly laughs, folding his arm to rest his hand on his tummy as he nods, forgetting you can’t see. “You didn’t even have to ask.”

The drive from your flat to Eddie’s is typically around twenty minutes, but with the benefit of it being nearly midnight and most normal people being in bed by now, you’re knocking on Eddie’s door in just a little under twelve minutes.

Eddie opens the door to let you in and immediately just wants to kiss you. You’re dressed in an oversized sweatshirt, loose pajama pants with cute little ducks printed on them, and fluffy house slippers. You grin up at Eddie as you lift a bag full of candy, “I come bearing gifts!”

Eddie had been exhausted all day, but now that he’s had two handfuls of sugary treats, he’s ready to run a fucking marathon.

He’s sucking on a sour apple jawbreaker and watching some shitty romcom with Banshee curled in his lap when he feels your head softly drop onto his shoulder. He glances down at you and sees the soft flutter of your eyes, “Are you tired? You can take my bed.” He offers.

You tilt your head to blink up at him tiredly, “Will you come with me?”

And well, Eddie was originally going to take the couch, but you’re looking up at him with these cute, bleary eyes, and Eddie can’t even imagine saying no. So, he shuts his TV off, makes a mental note to clean up the candy wrappers sometime tomorrow, and lets you drag him off to his room.

Banshee decided to take advantage of the new space on the couch and sprawl out, so Eddie doesn’t have to worry about asking if you’re okay with her cuddling up on his bed like she usually does.

Eddie doesn’t do this very often— sleep with other people in his bed, he means. And sure, he’s had partners before that would stay the night here and there, but he hasn’t had that in over a year now, so it’s safe to say that Eddie’s a little bit nervous.

He doesn’t know if you want to be close, but considering how cuddly you are on a daily basis, he’s not surprised when you press yourself into his side with a content sigh, snuggling deeper into the warm covers. He turns, shifting to wrap his arms around your frame, trying his best to ignore the fast beating of his heart in his chest— but that’s not the main issue. The bigger problem is— “Eddie? Are you hard?”

Shit.

God, this is awful. Nothing even remotely sexual happened, and Eddie’s popping a boner and practically stabbing your stomach. Fuck, you probably think he’s a perv now. Nice going.

“No.”

It falls silent for a moment, and Eddie can feel the quiver of your body as you giggle into his shoulder. He smiles, an embarrassed blush rising over her cheeks as he lifts a hand to palm at his eye, “I’m so fucking sorry.”

You turn in Eddie’s arm, pressing a hand to Eddie’s shoulder to lay him on his back. You stay lying by his side, body pressed to him, head resting on his shoulder. You nose at the curly strands of hair on Eddie’s neck, and your hand runs down his torso, fingertips dipping beneath the waistband of his sweats. “O-oh. No, you don’t need to, princess.” Eddie says, yet his voice is shaky and holds anticipation as you drag your nails through the coarse hair leading to his cock.

“I want to. Please?” You ask. And you’re so good, so obedient, not touching Eddie’s cock until he swallows and nods his head yes. You wriggle, like a happy pup that got a treat, and your hand sinks lower, wrapping around the thick of Eddie’s cock.

Eddie’s breath hitches, sinking into the feeling of your warm hand stroking up his cock, your thumb running over his leaking tip. Eddie curses, hips twitching up into your hold, and you press a kiss to his jaw, and Eddie nearly bursts into stars.

You press another kiss to his jaw, soft and sweet, and Eddie slinks an arm around you, sinking his hands into your hair and shakily breathing. “You keep kissing me like that, and I’m gonna— fuck.”

And it’s so pathetic; you’ve only had your hand down his pants for less than five minutes, and Eddie’s quivering like a virgin having their first time. God, this is so embarrassing.

You kiss Eddie once more, “Wait, wait. Not yet.”

And then you shuffle away from Eddie, and he’s frowning because he feels cold without you snuggled against him. But then you’re sinking underneath the covers, and Eddie’s cursing, “W-what are you doing, honey?”

He lifts the covers just as you wriggle your way between his legs and hook your fingers over the band of his sweats. You peel his sweats away, mouth opening like a hungry lion when Eddie’s cock pops out. You push the front band of his sweats to catch just below his balls, and Eddie’s hips squirm from the pressure making you giggle when his cock twitches.

You loop your fingers around his cock, twisting up on a long stroke, “Did I ever tell you how pretty your cock is, Eddie?”

Jesus Christ.

Eddie breathes shakily through his nose, tummy quivering as your gaze flickers; he shakes his head no. Eddie sinks a hand to pet your hair back, smiling when you nuzzle into his touch, letting your lips brush against his tip, “You think it’s pretty, baby?” He asks.

You nod, letting your tongue loll out of your mouth to catch the pearl of pre-cum dripping from his tip. You don’t say anything else as you lean forward and wrap your mouth around him, languidly taking him as far as you want and sucking him for all he’s worth.

Eddie’s head drops back then, his entire body just losing strength to do anything as you slowly fuck your mouth over him. The blanket falls over you then, and Eddie curses, scrambling to push it back over your head so you don’t, like, suffocate on his cock.

And Eddie was already close before, so it doesn’t take long for him to start cursing and warning you that he’s gonna cum. Before he knows it, he’s emptying himself into the warm cavern of your mouth, soft mixes of curses and your name tumbling from his mouth as you happily take every last drop.

You pull off of him with a small pop, licking up the small remnants of cum that drool down his cock. Eddie feels weightless now; the effects of sugar are long gone now that you practically sucked his soul through his dick. You tuck Eddie back into his pants, and as if you couldn’t get any cuter, any sweeter, you press a gentle kiss to Eddie’s tummy right where the waistband sits.

Eddie’s got a loopy grin on his face when you crawl back up to snuggle back into his side, mumbling something about how you love licking his cock. Eddie nearly dies, by the way.

He thinks he’s in love with you, maybe.

You breathe in deep, draping an arm across Eddie’s tummy and slinking your leg between his, and you sigh all sleepy and cute as you say, “G’night, Eddie.”

Yeah. Eddie’s definitely in love with you.

Weeks go by as you and Eddie become thick as thieves.

You carry on with your nightly calls, obviously, but now there’s a healthy mix of one of you going to the other's home and crashing there for the night, then that bleeds into the next day where you just spend hours with each other doing fuck all.

Eddie just likes being around you. You don’t have to be doing anything particularly fun or sexual; no, Eddie just enjoys your company. And most times, you and Eddie will be doing your separate little activities— you reading or watching a movie while Eddie writes up new campaign ideas for Dustin— and you will reach out to twirl a strand of Eddie’s hair around your knuckle and gently tug or poke your finger into his cheek where his dimples reside and Eddie just melts.

Most of the time, you’re only doing it for your peace of mind (Eddie knows because you told him when he asked), but something tells him maybe you actually have something to say when you poke Eddie’s cheek for the third time.

He turns to you, brows raised and hiding beneath his bangs that so badly need a trim, “Yes, doll?”

You smile now that his attention is on you, and you shift, careful not to wake Banshee in your lap from your movements. Eddie thinks Banshee might like you more than she likes him, which is just downright traitorous, considering Eddie’s the one who feeds her and keeps a roof over her head. He doesn’t really blame the cat, though.

“What are you doing on Saturday?” You ask.

Eddie hums, closing his notebook and leaning back into his couch, “This Saturday?”

You nod, and Eddie shrugs, lips pouting as he speaks, “Nothing, I’m pretty sure. Why?”

You sigh heavily, sinking into the couch as you gently pet Banshee behind her ear, “We have an event for work, and I was just wondering if you would maybe wanna tag along?”

Eddie’s head tips in interest, “Sure. Is it, like, fancy dress shit?” He asks. Eddie thinks he has a tux somewhere deep in the trenches of his closet. Probably the one he wore to Wayne's wedding two years ago; he hopes he still fits.

You shrug, “Eh, nothing too fancy schmancy. Slacks and a nice shirt will do,” You mindlessly watch the television, gently rubbing Banshee’s ear between your fingers. “That I can do, princess. But uh,” Eddie pauses, “You don’t seem too ecstatic about this.” He points out.

You shrug, glancing over at Eddie, and Eddie wants to kiss your pouty lips because you look adorable swallowed up in a throw blanket with sleepy eyes blinking up at him. “S’cause I’m not,” You huff, “I hate those ignorant assholes— don’t get me wrong, some of them are good friends of mine! But most of them are just…” You make a face and roll your eyes, and Eddie softly laughs. You let your head lazily turn to gaze at him, “Don says I have to go, though. So I figured I may as well drag someone I actually enjoy being around.” You softly smile.

Eddie’s heart flutters and grows three times the size of his body.

Saturday night comes quicker than most, and Eddie spends nearly an hour digging through his closet. By the time Eddie finds a nice enough shirt to pair with his neatly ironed (to Eddie’s standard, which is probably not very high) slacks, he’s running behind and starts to stress that he won’t pick you up on time, and he’s just totally made an ass of himself.

It’s five o’clock when Eddie gets to your flat, and when he knocks on your door, he’s out of breath because he smokes more than a godman grill, and he skipped every other step on the staircase to get there quicker. He’s thinking of a million ways to apologize for being late, and he thinks he has it right when you open the door, but then— “Oh. Hey Eds! You’re early!”

Eddie huffs, nearly doubling over in exhaustion because he seriously needs to quit smoking, “Wha– early?”

You hold the door open for Eddie to step in and nod. You’re in a white fluffy robe with house boots on, and your hair is tied back, so you have a clear canvas to work with for your makeup. “Yeah, it starts at seven.”

And, oh, what the fuck? Here Eddie was stressing and thinking he’d completely ruined his chances with you because he decided to be an asshat and lose track of time on his video games, but in reality, he’s nearly two hours early?!

“Oh, but now you can help me pick a dress. Come on.”

No, Eddie has zero complaints, actually. He’s grateful that he’s timely challenged, he thinks as you drag him toward your room.

Eddie spends the next thirty minutes or so seated at the foot of your bed, judging whichever dresses you surprise him with from out of your closet.

It isn’t easy to give a solid answer because, well, you look good in all of them. And Eddie’s not even being biased because he’s got a sickening crush on you— no, you genuinely look amazing in every dress.

“Eddie, you’ve said yes to all of them.” You huff. “Because they all look good!” Eddie exclaims.

You frown, resting your hands on your hips and tilting your head at him. Eddie shrugs, “I don’t know why you’re upset with me when it’s technically your fault.” He points out, to which you roll your eyes and jokingly throw a dress at his face.

It takes a while for you to decide; by the time you’ve figured it out, there’s about forty minutes until the event begins.

The dress you landed on is evil, to say the least.

It’s a black puffy babydoll-style dress, except instead of a poofy top half, it’s tight fitting and pushes your chest up to sit nice and pretty, and the straps are thin, and Eddie thinks about the sound you’d make if he just reached out and teasingly snapped it against your skin. Wants to coo when you squirm and mewl and press yourself into him.

And the dress is so short, long enough to cover everything, but you wouldn’t have to bend over very far to flash a lucky person, and the sight of your thighs makes Eddie’s head spin.

He doesn’t know where the courage comes from because Eddie is anything but bold when it comes to people he has ridiculous crushes on, but Eddie couldn’t help himself, watching you bent over the sink as you do your last touch-ups to your makeup, the way your silky thighs rub against one another when you shift to get closer to the mirror— Eddie didn’t stand a chance.

He’s behind you before he knows it, and you’re smiling at him through the mirror, “Almost done, promise.” You say.

Eddie lets his hand slink around your waist, dropping his head to nuzzle into your neck, brown eyes fluttering up to hold your gaze through the glass as he kisses your skin before playfully nipping at you. You squeal, curling away from him, and he smiles as you push at him. “You’re cute,” Eddie softly says, and he grins, teeth digging into his bottom lip when you shy away from his gaze, “So pretty.” He adds.

Eddie turns you to face him as he presses you against the bathroom sink. He seeks your lips, but you pout and shake your head, “My lipgloss.”

Eddie huffs out a laugh, shaking his head before pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, careful not to catch any of the sticky application before sinking to his knees, hands gentle and greedy as they caress your thighs.

Eddie leans forward to kiss the inside of your knee, “Gonna let me taste you, honey?” He hums, leaning in the press a kiss further up the inside of your thigh. Your breath hitches, legs subconsciously spreading wider to accommodate Eddie. Your nails dig into the countertop as you shakily breathe, “W-we’re gonna be late,” You weakly say as Eddie lets his tongue draw shapes in your skin. Eddie hums, sucking the fat of your thigh into his mouth before leaving with a pop, lips brushing against your hot skin as he says, “I’ll be quick. Promise.”

He doesn’t wait for your response as he coasts his hands up your thighs to loop his fingers around the band of your panties, dragging them down your legs and helping you step out of them.

Eddie doesn’t waste time then; he kisses a sloppy wet trail up the inside of your thigh, fingers digging into the fat of your skin and helping you spread open for him so he can nuzzle his head beneath the fluffy tulle of your dress and begin his task of devouring you. You’re wet, dripping, and throbbing for Eddie’s tongue, and this is the third time that Eddie has found himself licking into you, and god, it never gets fucking old.

The sounds you make, the way you writhe, the tiny gasps you give, and then the way your cunt pulses around his tongue— it’s the pinnacle of Eddie’s night, he already knows.

“E-Eddie— oh,” Your breathy whine makes Eddie stuff his face further into your pussy, nose brushing against your clit as he thrusts his tongue into you, your hands scrambling down to sink into Eddie’s hair and tug.

And it took Eddie longer than he’d like to admit to get his hair slicked into the neat bun he’s sporting, but with his tongue plunged deep inside of you and your pretty moans filling his ears, Eddie can’t seem to care that you’re definitely messing up his hard work.

Eddie could spend eternity here, down on his knees, under the dress of your skirt, lapping at your pussy like it’s the last meal he’ll ever have. And sure, Eddie makes this conclusion, like, every single time he finds himself between your legs, but can you blame him? You’re the sweetest thing he’s ever had the pleasure of dealing with.

You lift a leg to hook over Eddie’s shoulder, the heel of your foot pressing into his shoulder blade and pushing a moan from the depths of Eddie’s chest as he snuggles deeper into you, licking and sucking and nipping.

“S-so close…” You whimper, thighs beginning to quiver on each side of Eddie’s head. He fixes his grip on your hips because Eddie wouldn’t dream of letting you fall in his presence, and you’re standing on your tiptoes when you fumble over the edge, crying out for Eddie as you soak his tongue.

Eddie’s moaning into you, fingers massaging and caressing the thick parts of your hips and thighs as he continues working you through your orgasm. You’re twitching and heavily breathing when Eddie parts his mouth from your slick folds, strings of arousal and spit snapping and falling to his chin. God, it makes Eddie ache in his pants.

He presses sweet and sticky kisses to the insides of your thighs, savoring every moment he has here, breathing you in, tasting you, feeling you, hearing you. He doesn’t doubt for a moment that he looks like a madman when he brings his head out from under your dress, and you giggle, pressing your hand to your lips.

Eddie wants to hear that noise on repeat. Put his headphones on and, like, clean his house or something. Let your giggles play on a constant loop until they’re engrained into the grooves of his brain so he never has to go a second without hearing them.

“What?” Eddie smiles, hands still under your dress and soothingly squeezing the shaky muscles of your thighs. Your eyes are glazed from pleasure, and you look warm as you speak, “I– your hair,” You laugh. You press the wispy curls of Eddie’s bangs back, “I’m so sorry. It looked so nice, and I messed it up.” You happily frown.

Eddie huffs out a laugh, pressing a kiss to your knee and shaking his head, “That’s okay,” He responds, reaching over for your panties to help you slip them back on. “It was for a good cause.” He winks.

Eddie doesn’t frequent fancy parties.

The fanciest event Eddie’s ever been to was a masquerade-themed dinner that he and Jeff snuck into because there were rumors of a big hit producer being there, which, big fucking shocker, they never found him since everyone was in a fucking mask. It was a waste of time, but at least they ate like kings that night.

Besides that, Eddie doesn’t go to fancy places— it’s just not his kind of scene. And it’s not like the event you’ve brought him to tonight is, like, Buckingham Palace tier, but everyone here looks like a million bucks and up, and Eddie’s not quite sure he’s up to that standard.

He would be more worried if you weren’t clinging to him like a koala bear and keeping him in light conversation.

You introduced Eddie to a few of your industry friends, and one or two of them even remembered Eddie from the films he’d done with you, which, Eddie doesn’t know why, but his head grew three times bigger in size from that. And for the most part, you keep to Eddie’s side, pointing out different people from across the room and telling him the lore behind them and whatnot as you share a plate of snacks.

And you love grapes, apparently, because Eddie’s had to get up and refill on them about three times now. “Do you want more?” Eddie asks when he realizes you’re almost done. You glance at him with a small smile as you nod, “I’ll get it this time, though. I want to try some of the cheese.”

So, Eddie nods and keeps an eye on you until the crowd obstructs his view. He busies himself with watching the room, tries to see if he can pick out anyone from any pornos he’s watched before he realizes that’s fucking weird and cringes at himself for being a perv. He finishes his glass of champagne, which Eddie isn’t a champagne guy, but it was either that or whiskey, and Eddie would rather not get shitfaced tonight.

And what’s taking you so long? You’ve been gone for a while now, and Eddie had first thought you maybe made a quick stop at the restrooms, but it’s been more than enough time, and he misses you (as fucking sappy as that is), so he gets up and makes his way to the food bar.

He’s got his empty flute in one hand and the other in his pocket, brown eyes softly scanning the room as he walks. And then he spots you, near the food where you said you’d be, with some guy talking to you, but something isn’t right.

Eddie’s spent enough time with you now to be able to tell when you’re feeling uneasy just by the way you anxiously drag your nail against the length of your thumb, the way your eyes dart around, or the tense pull of your shoulders.

Your gaze lands on Eddie, and your eyes soften, and Eddie doesn’t even have to think twice before he walks over.

The man's back is facing Eddie, so he doesn’t see the curly-headed boy until he steps around and slinks an arm around your waist, pulling you close with a soft smile, “Been looking for you, sweets.” He presses a kiss to your forehead as you sink into him.

“Mm, just catching up with..a friend.”

Eddie doesn’t miss the pause. He looks over to the man you’d been talking to, and you take a breath, “Eddie, this is Chris, a coworker.” You introduce the man. And Eddie remembers that name; he thinks he remembers seeing it on the script of the last film you and Eddie did together— the one where you’d asked Eddie to take over because the other guy was an asshole.

Chris reaches out a hand, “Chris. You must be a good friend of hers?”

Eddie doesn’t like that. Doesn’t like that he doesn’t refer to you by your name, or the smug grin on his face, or the sly tone in his voice when he says it.

And Eddie doesn’t know why he does it, okay. He doesn’t know why the words fly out of his mouth or why he didn’t, like, think it through, but suddenly, Eddie’s introducing himself as your boyfriend. Which, Eddie is not your boyfriend. And you’re not his girlfriend.

Eddie would love to be your boyfriend, and he’d love for you to be his girlfriend, but— but you’re not. So, Eddie doesn’t know why he does it, but he does, and god, it’s comedic how the guy's face falls. Eddie can feel your gaze on him, and he panics a little because what if Eddie just crossed the line big time?

Chris’s gaze flickers to you, and his brows raise as you look at him, “So, I take it this is why you’re only doing solo content now?”

Which, fucking gross. That’s definitely none of this meathead guy's business! So what if you’re making solo content only? And why does he know, and why does he care? God, this guy’s a creep.

But also… why are you only doing solo content? Eddie can’t help but wonder. Did something happen? Was it this asshole's fault? Eddie will kill him if he has anything to do with it. You and Eddie have become so close; you tell each other everything about everything, so why didn’t you tell him about this? It’s not a big deal or whatever, but—

“Does it matter?” Shit, Eddie didn’t mean to say that out loud.

You’re both looking at Eddie in shock, and Eddie just blinks and waits for an answer.

You take in a deep breath, arm squeezing around Eddie’s as you answer— since this guy can’t take a fucking hint, “Yeah, actually, it is. Just didn’t feel right.” You shrug.

The guy nods, pursing his lips together, “Fair enough. Well, if that ever changes, you know where to find me.” He winks before turning around and leaving. Eddie cringes, and he almost steps forward to say something, to tell him to fuck off somewhere, but your grip tightens around his arms, and Eddie understands that you just want the conversation to be over.

Eddie’s quickly turning his attention to you, though, when you press yourself into his side, “Thank you.” You sweetly say.

Eddie nods, a warm hand reaching up to squeeze your hand that's resting over his bicep, “Don’t sweat it, princess. That guy’s a douche.” And you huff, nodding your head, “Yeah. You definitely scared him, though. It was pretty hot.”

Eddie tries not to let that get to his head.

He fails.

The rest of the night goes well with fewer dickhead run-ins and more grapes, and Eddie is more than Elated when you say it’s time to go.

The ride home is pleasant, and you’ve been extra cuddly all night, so Eddie’s heart is practically the size of Texas when you bring his hand into your lap and slink your fingers together. You’re spending the night, so Eddie’s kind of excited to get in bed and snuggle until you both pass out— but then Eddie’s thrown in for a loop when you both get under his covers.

Banshee is busy in her bakery down at the foot of the bed, kneading little biscuits in preparation for her sleep, and you’re fresh-faced and wrapped in one of Eddie’s shirts when you look over at him with a teasing look, “So,” you start, “You’re my boyfriend.”

Eddie blinks at you, wishing the bed would just let him sink in and become one with the mattress. “Oh god,” He groans, pressing his hands to his face, “I’m sorry, it just came out! That guy was being a dick, and it was the first thing that I thought of, and— god, I’m sorry.” He drags his hands over his face and shoots you an empathetic look. “You can totally, like, kick me in the nuts.”

And Eddie kind of braces himself for you to chew him out or something; tell him he’s a weirdo, and he’ll never in a million years get to call himself your boyfriend because you��re way out of his league. But then you giggle.

And it’s not the teasing ‘get a load of this loser’ giggle— no, it’s your sweet, kind, and adoring giggle.

“No, no. I was… I was wondering when you would ask, actually.”

Eddie’s never turned his head so fast. He thinks he imagined you saying it, like, maybe he drank too much champagne even though he literally only had less than two full glasses the entire night. “Huh? I– w-what do you mean?” Eddie gapes. “Like… like, ask you to be my girlfriend?”

And you’re so cute as you shyly nod, glancing at Eddie with this expectant gaze.

“Shit, well uh, I-I wanted to ask you in like a bigger way. Like flowers and shit because I… well, I really like you, and it’s what you deserve and—”

You cut Eddie off with a laugh and scoot closer to him, and if Eddie’s heart beats any faster, he might die. “Eddie,” You lowly and softly say, holding his gaze. Eddie nods, eyes darting down to your lips as he holds his breath. “Will you be my boyfriend?”

Shit, Eddie’s never said yes so quickly in his life.

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a/n: HELLOOO! if you have made it to the end of this awfully long baby i am so thankful and appreciative of you, these two are my babies so I hope you enjoyed them as much as I've enjoyed my time with them <3 as always, thank u for reading and being here, i love and appreciate any feedback, ILYSM MWAH <3

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cutie teeny taglist: @vol2eddie @paleidiot @hideoutside

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wilteddreamsofbaldursgate · 8 months

Text

I’m a fierce believer and defender of Smooth Brain Astarion (affectionate).

I love that, if left to his own devices, he ends up dead in a ditch. I love that this pasty menace of an elf is a walking disaster. I love that his brain produces one coherent thought per day, only to have it backfire on him later on. I love that his first choice in freedom is to unapologetically be the worst version of himself. Because it makes sense.

That’s what abuse and trauma do to your brain—they fuck with it.

And in Astarion’s defence, the man didn’t have to use his brain for nearly 200 years—it’s probably the very thing that kept him as alive as he can be; to survive 200 years of pure shit.

And what use is his brain when his days and nights are dictated by someone else for as long as he can remember? When he has no say in what clothes he wears. When he doesn’t get to choose what or when to eat. When his body and mind aren’t his own, distorted by torture and hunger and self-loathing, forced to obey his vampiric master. Why use his brain when his survival depends exclusively on his abuser’s whims?

Astarion could’ve come up with the most brilliant plan possible to escape Cazador or save a mark from their doom, but he never stood a chance of succeeding—which doesn’t mean that he didn’t get punished for trying (or even thinking about it) anyway.

Existing under Cazador was a game he couldn’t win, so why bother playing?

And it’s only by chance that Astarion’s autonomy is returned to him literally overnight. It’s only natural that he’s overwhelmed by his newfound freedom. How is he expected to make sound decisions when he can’t even recall a time when he could do and say as he pleased?

Of course Astarion is a walking disaster when he finds himself on that beach after the Nautiloid crash—and he’s fully aware of that! That’s why it’s so crucial for him to get on the player’s/other companion’s good side.

He’s self-aware enough to be so insecure about himself that he would rather trust a stranger’s capabilities than his own.

Being a catastrophe of a person is part of Astarion’s character journey. Not only does he have to reclaim his personhood, he has to learn how to depend on his own brain again and I think that's such a painfully beautiful, important message Baldur’s Gate 3 sends.

Because healing isn’t pretty. Nor is it easy.

You’re not alright the moment you’re free of whatever horrors you had to live through—and that’s ok! There’s time and room for you to adjust.

And the moment Astarion feels more or less safe within his new environment, when he’s fed and treated like a person worthy of respect and consideration, his insights, skills and perception are crucial assets to the group.

Astarion knows his art and literature, and although his little remarks are unhinged at times, he's genuinely witty. Even his objections are, considering the circumstances, absolutely legitimate.

Personally, I love seeing Smooth Brain Astarion become more and more secure in his judgement the more Tav/other companions trust and support him.

Astarion is smart, his brain’s just been stewed for nearly 200 years.

#baldur’s gate 3 #bg3 #baldur’s gate iii #astarion #astarion ancunin #bg3 astarion #astarion headcanons #smooth brain astarion I will defend you until you can do it yourself #trauma can give you literal brain damage #of course he's a little eccentric #tw: trauma #tw: abuse #smooth brain astarion

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inazuman · 2 months

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i hope you find what you're looking for

☁ blade x f!reader s.mut, honkai: star rail ☁ reader is afab and goes by she/her. alpha/omega dynamics. blade helps you out during your heat, calls you “girl” “sweet girl” “baby”, consent is sexy and blade is very adamant about it. reader is jing yuan’s assistant. ☁ A/N: i cannot get sweet gentle blade off my mind after that car scene and this fic is what happened ☁ 5k words

“Watch where you’re going, miss.”

His hands fall to your waist as your back crashes against his front, attempting to blink away the frazzled state you’re in. Despite his warm hands, his touch feels like the first gulp of ice cold water on the hottest day.

Alpha, your head wants to reel. It’s sickening sweet, the way your slick pools at just a whiff of his scent.

It’s even worse when you turn around and realize who it is. Even with the mask and the sunglasses (does he really think that helps?), your heart drops.

Blade. The Stellaron Hunter who escaped from the Shackling Prison less than an hour ago.

Aeons, this really is the worst day to be getting your heat, isn’t it?

Blade immediately retracts his hands when he realizes your state. He’s been alive too many years to need to run away before his body starts reacting, but he’s still — at least partially — human. Your scent is sweet, almost needy, has his biology wanting to follow you wherever you go.

You whine at the loss of contact, your hand immediately slapping across your mouth as you come to terms with what just happened.

“I-“

“No need to apologize, it’s perfectly natural.”

This little alleyway is only used by those working with the Divine Foresight, and in the middle of a work day, nobody is walking through it. Nobody was supposed to walk through it. Maybe you should’ve figured a long lived, previously acclaimed man like him would’ve known about it and used it.

That thought would’ve been way more helpful when you were trying to track his movements earlier.

Blade’s in no rush. He hasn’t been for a long time. The time will pass anyways, after all. Elio makes no mistakes in his script, so he’s sure whatever happens here won’t affect the later situation. It’s whether you’re in the right mind state to know what’s happening, that’s his biggest concern.

“You’re-! You know rightfully, I should cuff you and bring you back to the Shackling Prison.” You try to be stern, but your core turns, causing you to buckle forward. Blade swiftly reaches across to hold you up.

“I… can help you get close to a medical bay. If your mind is still clear-“

“My mind is perfectly coherent,” you snap, and then your face immediately winces with regret. He might be a so-called criminal, but it’s not like he’s hurt you personally, and Jing Yuan strangely but oh-so-kindly asked for your understanding of him. “It only started today. My mind won’t fog until at least tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

“Hold up. You’re a criminal. On the run. And you want to help me get to a med bay? Shouldn’t you be… I don’t know, running away?”

“All will come to be as it should.”

You roll your eyes. It’s like when Jing Yuan tells Fu Xuan that it’s “not her time” with some fancy words.

Blade rephrases. “I have nowhere to be, as of right now.”

You feel your knees threatening to buckle, wincing as your hand squeezes Blade’s shoulder tight. If it affects him, his face doesn’t show it.

“Fine. Since you’re the nicest criminal looking to be a Samaritan, please help me get home. It’s not far from here.”

Blade is surprisingly patient, even bothers to remove his shoes before coming into the house, gracefully placing you on your sofa.

“Thank you, wanted criminal.”

He scoffs at that, but nods politely. His sunglasses and mask are tucked somewhere away now, no need for them since you know exactly who he is.

There’s a beat of silence. He should leave. He’s done his job. But you’re an omega in distress, alone. And the worst part is, you’re not doing anything.

You’re not grabbing items to make a nest, or calling an alpha, or taking any medication. Are you waiting for him to leave? You likely would’ve said something, given your clear ability to clip back. Your scent most certainly tells him to stay, but he knows better than most what it’s like to be a prisoner to your own physical body, in more ways than one.

All you do is grip at the edge of the sofa and stare at your coffee table, like an endangered animal with nowhere to go.

Maybe it’s his biology talking, but he somehow feels like he should do something.

“Is there anything else you need?”

It’s your turn to scoff, doing your best to shake off your mind. “Wow, you really are nice.” You remove your shoes, slotting them under the couch for later. And then your eyes narrow. “Or were you just looking for a pretty little omega to fuck, hm?”

If this were any other situation, he would’ve taken this opportunity to turn on his heel and leave right out the door, but something about the situation prickles at the back of his neck.

“Is this your first time handling a heat?” He asks directly.

You wince at that, wrapping a throw blanket over yourself. “No… Is it that obvious?” You sigh, bringing your knees towards yourself and pressing them against your chest. “I’ve been on suppressants for a long time.”

Blade gives you your options sincerely. “There’s an app. For those in your predicament. Otherwise, you might want to consider a nest. If you have painkillers on you, that could help too. I’ve heard it’s not much help, but it’s better than nothing.”

You breathe. “Nest. Right.” Your eyes scatter around, holding the blanket around you tight. You look like you want to get up and then you don’t, mind volleying between thoughts and decisions that end up leaving you nowhere. Blade’s chest can’t help but tighten at how lost you look.

“May I?” he asks for permission to step further into your home.

What a criminal, you want to remark. But the way your heart is pumping both from the stress and the heat within you just has you nodding. He opens your bedroom door before walking back towards you and carefully picking you up, slowly, like he’s giving you every chance to interject. To your surprise, you let him, the omega inside of you feels like it’s almost cooing at his embrace. He places you down on the armchair in the corner, washing his hands in the bathroom before taking your blanket and bunching it up in a circular motion, propping up your pillows around it.

“Okay. This is a good start. Add things that bring you comfort around you. If you like soft toys, or something like that. If you’re up to it, it would be ideal for you to shower and get into something comfortable.”

Your scent peaks, making him turn around. Your knees are tucked close to you once more, your eyes glassy. You can feel yourself descending into something, more quickly than you realized.

“Whilst I’m still coherent… I would…” you swallow, your throat feels like you’ve drunken something sweet and forgot to drink water before falling sleep. “I would appreciate if you stayed. Since you said you’re not doing anything. Not that I’m pressuring you. Your scent is…” you feel your face get hot, but Blade just nods.

“I’ll be just outside.”

It’s perfectly normal.

Okay, that’s not the right word. Maybe more like, it’s perfectly natural. To ask an alpha to stay with you during your heat. There’s apps for that. That’s what Blade said, right?

The shower water beats over your skin as you lightly scrub it.

Definitely not embarrassing. Or strange. Even if he is a wanted criminal. What was it, something like 8 billion credits? Would Jing Yuan even give you that if you turned him back in?

You press the edge of your palm against your eyebrow. His scent, like the woods and bergamot and faintly of incense. The wanted posters did not do him justice.

Blade presses a hand to his pants the moment he closes the door.

Your scent, sweeter than any sin, the glassy look in your eyes that you were so desperately blinking away, the way you gripped him as you gasped into his touch… He is not someone who struggles with self-control, but he can’t deny the way his member hardens.

He desperately tries to think. What do omegas need again? Medication. Something soft. Water.

He hears you enter the shower, the thought of you naked passes quickly in his mind, but has him gripping your doorknob tight all the same. You said something about his scent too, didn’t you? He removes his outerwear, shuffling back into your room to place it on the armchair. Just in case.

He spots your laundry hamper on his way out your room, and forces himself to look away before he gets carried away.

As he places a jug of water and a couple glasses on your bedside table, you chuck your hand holding a towel into his field of vision.

He doesn’t take it, instead curiously arches an eyebrow at you.

“Okay, fine, I’ll say it, since the shower cleared my mind. I am aware that you are a big bad criminal. And we’re both aware I’m in heat. But you’ve been nice. So this is my official invitation. Stay with me during it.”

“That sounds more like a demand.”

You push the towel into his hands, and this time he takes it. “We both know you’re perfectly capable of leaving here if you wanted.” You stomp back to your nest, courtesy of the handsome man in front of you, and wrap yourself into your blankets.

“The jacket gesture was nice,” you add, “but you’ve been in the Shackling Prison. Aeon knows what’s down there. So shower, and come back here.” Maybe he’s right. This does sound like a demand. “Is this arrangement… okay with you?”

The corner of Blade’s mouth upturns just a bit, but he steels himself for what he’s about to say. “I’m one of the most dangerous men the IPC has a bounty on. You’re clearly under the influence of your heat, which means we can’t be perfectly clear of your consent.”

“My mind is clear. I’m Jing Yuan’s assistant. You might be strong, but I can take a fight too. Also…” you flush with embarassment, “I have no idea what I’m doing. You clearly know more than me, and I’m guessing I’m about to get worse. Also… Jing Yuan may have told me to be nice to you even though you’re a criminal.”

Blade laughs at that, a warm sound that hits straight to your core, your hand pressing against your stomach.

“You trust the General’s words that much?”

“There’s a lot going on right now! Just take the goddamn shower!” You chuck a pillow at him, which he catches with ease and throws back.

A closer whiff of your scent has him swallowing a noise in his throat. He rationalizes that he surely can’t leave you in the hands of a random Alpha who might take advantage of your lack of knowledge, especially not someone so close to Jing Yuan.

“Alphas can act more… barbaric, shall we say, the heavier an omega’s heat gets. You have to fight and say it straight if you don’t want anything, you understand?”

Maybe you should’ve thought this through a little more before, because now you certainly can’t. Blade is wearing nothing except the towel you gave him wrapped low around his waist, his muscles clear and evident, scars littering his body like streaks of comets. He’s stunning.

He watches you ogle him, sighing as he cups your face gently in his palm, forcing your gaze to his face.

“Did you hear me, girl?”

And oh, maybe that’s a mistake on his part, because the moment you make eye contact with him, his breath catches. Your lips are still slick with the water you’ve been drinking, your pupils widened and full of lust. That blank look that is clearly only thinking of him. How long has it been for Blade too, since he’s had a moment like this with someone else? Centuries? Your omega scent fills the air at the skin-to-skin contact, and it makes him feel like you’re a siren pulling him in.

He can see your mind working, doing your best to force your brain to think. “I’ll tell you. I will.”

It’s only then that Blade sits in your nest with you. He notices the way you lean into him, until your head rests against his shoulder, breathing his smoky scent in.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

Blade chuckles. “My only concern is being able to control myself through this.”

You reach for him, press your face closer to his, until your noses are touching. He lets you lead, wants you to lead, so that he knows exactly what it is you want and what you’re okay with.

And you do, your mouth pressing against his, getting the first drink of what he has to offer. He thinks he could drown in you like this. His hand moves to the small of your back, his lips gentle and slow as they move against yours.

You wrap your arms around his neck, and then you’re pulling him in, and it’s like a dam that breaks open. He’s careful not to rest his whole weight on you, one hand propping himself up against your headboard, even as you squeeze your arms tighter. You didn’t realize heats could feel like this, having someone with you to hold as it sinks you in deeper. You bring your nose to the scent gland at his neck, kissing it lightly, and your scent that fllls the room in return has him making a noise akin to a growl as he presses his hand into your waist.

“Careful, girl,” he warns, but you don’t care. God, you don’t care. You feel your heat settling into your body deeper, slick pooling between your legs as you wrap them around his waist. You’re sure he can smell it, especially from the way he tries to still you.

“Mm, a little fast, don’t you think?” His teeth nips at your ear as your hands trail down his chest, over his back, the bumps from scarring only making it clearer to your heat-addled brain that he’s strong, a strong alpha.

“It’s your-,” your words die down before you can say them. It’s your job to keep us in check, you want to say. But your body starts to warm uncomfortably. Blade runs a hand up and down your torso, thumb pressing circles against your waist. Your eyebrows cinch together, kicking of the sheets yet wanting the comfort of them close to you.

“It’s okay, sweet girl. It’s called a heat for a reason.” He kisses your cheek gently, like a lover. You chase his lips, bringing him in for another kiss.

“You don’t feel hot,” you tell him as you break away, confused. Strangely enough, Blade’s body doesn’t add to your irritating warmth. If anything, it feels like the only relief. His body is warm, but where he touches you tingles softly, staving off the heaviness.

“Mm, that’s because I’m taking care of you,” he presses a kiss to your neck, dangerously close to nipping at your scent gland, before descending down your collarbone. His hands move under your shirt, a reprieve from the sweat that’s starting to sheenson your skin. You want to beg him like he’s a god to release you from the cage your heated body has become. Instead, you remove your shirt, pulling him into you once more, his skin against yours like a reverence.

He continues to kiss at the skin he’s been given access to, one hand moving to your breast, cupping it from below and pinching at your nipple. You arch into his touch, and his mind immediately goes to the thought of you arching your back as he presses his member into you.

He wants more. He wants so, so much more.

Does he dare let himself indulge? His thoughts flitter away as you release him from the death grip your arms had him in, allowing him to descend his mouth down to your breasts, to kiss at the skin, teeth scraping lightly over a nipple, his hands skating over your stomach and to the waistband of your pants.

You’re sobbing into him now, somehow he’s skin to skin with you and it feels like it’s not nearly close enough. Your head feels full of cotton, his body and the feeling of his wet tongue lapping at you, lips wrapping around your nipple, encompassing you so fully you sometimes forget to breathe.

You tap his shoulder as he kisses down your stomach, and he looks up at you with curious eyes.

“Can’t- can’t take it,” you heave, hands stroking his hair. “Take me now,” your thighs tighten around him. “Need- I need”

“No.”

His answer is so clipped that it shocks you, and you’re almost distracted by him removing your pants from you, leaving your soft panties for his view.

“Wha- Blade,” you sigh his name, you meant for it to be a scolding, but then he’s kissing right above the waistband of your panties and you feel the air rush out of you all too delicately. “You- don’t you want-”

“This is about what you want.”

“I just told you what I want!”

“You’re not ready.” His words are almost a whisper now, voice gruff between your legs, his hair tickling the inside of your thighs as he presses his nose to your clothed core and breathes you in. God, he feels like an animal, his member hardening at just the scent of your slick. Don’t you know he’s already holding back? Don’t you know the way you’re beckoning him to give it to you now is more torture for him than it is for you?

“What? Blade, you can’t be serious.”

He grunts. “I’m serious.” His saliva coats his mouth, gripping your thighs a little tighter. “May I?”

“God, Blade, yes. Do whatever you’re gonna do since you’re not gonna-”

He relishes in the way your breath catches and the words fall out of your mouth the moment he laps his wet tongue over your clothed core. The sound you let out is a wrecked thing.

You distinctly hear a ripping sound, the material giving way against your skin and chucked somewhere behind him.

“Blade!”

“I’ll buy you new ones,” he groans, and then his tongue is pressed against your folds and oh, it’s like heaven’s greatest sin, so close to the relief you so desperately want. He doesn’t sound any better, moans falling from his lips that are pressed against your core, purposefully wrapping his arms around your thighs and pressing them towards his face so he can have you all around him, your skin and scent and sweat only adding to the way he has to grind his hips into your bed.

You intertwine your fingers with his, gripping tight, and he can’t help but feel his heart lurch a little at how cute the gesture is. You know exactly who he is, but the way you’re gasping his name asking him for more, more makes him feel like less of a monster and more like a lover, your lover.

He swallows every drop of pearly wetness you afford him, his suckles over your folds slowly growing more desperate. He wants to breathe you in, drink you up, give you all he can. He settles with splitting your folds with his tongue, flicking your clit over and over again, gripping your thighs tight, and mumbling into your skin about how “you’re so pretty like this, wanna watch you make a mess on my face” between breaths.

He doesn’t have to wait long, your grip on his hand gets tighter with each lather of his wet muscle, your core tightening as you try your best to tell him that you’re close, so close.

“Yeah, baby? You’re gonna give it to me?” he whispers against your skin, lips glistening as they delve back in. “Go ahead then, show me how pretty you look when you cum.”

He watches you as you cum, letting out a broken moan, your thighs pressing against the sides of his face impossibly tighter, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. You sob as your hips thrust into his face, his hands never letting yours go, tongue working you through every shock of your orgasm. He does his best to savor every drop. It’s for him, because of him, after all.

You’re shocked he’s still going when you come back to, your thrashing going from intense pleasure to overstimulation, your hands pushing against his in an attempt to get away from the way he’s still sucking on your clit.

“Too much! Blade, I’m so sensitive, it’s so much, oh, gods.”

“Mm,” he acknowledges you, but doesn’t let up, still holding your legs tight against himself. He’s not done, doesn’t want to be.

“Blade, BladeBladeBlade, I can’t, I really can’t, wha-“ Something shifts inside of you, and the feeling is like being choked, your lungs out of breath and desperately trying to take in air as the pain gives way to pleasure. Every wave feels like a drug, so quick to become putty in his hands as he drags you to another orgasm. This time it’s slower to build, but so much more intense, your body uncontrollable as it tenses harshly, gripping his hair, and you come undone on his tongue once more.

“Blade, holy, what-“ you try to catch your breath, desperate for each gulp of air you take in.

He groans in satisfaction, his grin carnivorous as he swipes his tongue over his lips, wiping the excess with the back of his hand.

“Good girl. Came so well for me, didn’t you?” His smirk is evident, canines pressing down just slightly against his tongue. He peppers kisses against your inner thigh.

“Gods, Blade. Just-“ your legs shake as you attempt to reel him in, grabbing his hand with yours, and this time he lets you, kissing you deep, his tongue grazing against the back of your teeth.

You lay your hand flat against his abs, sliding them down until your fingertips reach the towel, haphazardly pulling it off. He draws in a sharp breath at the feeling of the cool air on his member, pressing his hand down to your waist. His mind reels with just the thought of having you, the thought of his cock sliding into you, lubricated by your slick and his spit.

When he pulls his lips away from yours, you finally get to look at him, your hand wrapping around his dick as he exhales a soft ‘mm’.

You pump your hand up once, twice, before he’s taking your hand in his and putting it away.

“Blade, please. You’re so hard,” you’re sure between your legs is shiny with your slick and his spit. He doesn’t falter anymore, pressing your thighs back towards your chest, lining himself up with his cunt, gritting his teeth as the sensitive head catches against your folds.

“You’re-,” he grips your thighs a little harder, steeling himself against you. “Stay still, girl.”

“Please.”

“I’m getting there*.”*

“You’ve been teasing me for hours-”

“You’ve cum twice. Don’t make me show you what teasing really looks like.” He finally presses himself into you, a short intake of breath passes through his teeth as the head slips in. He plays with you, he has to be, sliding in and out of you, giving you just a little more each time.

You’re gripping his shoulders, pulling his body close to yours, his grunts so soft you might almost miss them if his mouth wasn’t against your ear. You’re faring no better, pressed chest to chest against him as he sinks into you.

“Oh,” you gasp, and he grunts in return, his forehead pressing against yours so he can watch and feel your every reaction. His hand grips the headboard, the wood creaks as if it’s about to give in to him, trying his damn best not to slam into you like he knows he wants to. He sheaths himself in whole, finally, the head of his cock pressing against your cervix. It feels downright cruel, the way you grip around him, your pretty whines against his ear.

“Are you-”

“Please,” you beg him, because nothing has ever felt so right and you think you might die if he doesn’t give it to you.

He huffs. “You’re not gonna die, baby. I’ll give it to you.”

“Well hurry up with it or I might,” you tilt your hips up, trying to move under his weight but he’s heavy, pinning you down and yet it’s exactly what you need. He moves off of you slightly only to bring his hands behind your knees, pressing them to your chest, and there’s a moment where you’re not really sure where he’s going with this until he-

“You’re so tight,” he grunts, and then he’s slamming into you hard. “Wanted to make this easy for you, ease you in, but you just had to go and be a brat.” You think your mind bluescreens from the pleasure-pain of his cock sliding all the way out to the tip only to press back into you, ramming against your cervix with every other press of his hips against yours, your heat coiling like a serpent in your core, like the slow drip of syrup through your body.

He brings his hand down between your bodies, fingers tapping against your clit. “Taking my cock so well, aren’t you?” His voice is low and heavy, and all you can do is say his name in return. “You’re a good little omega, aren’t you baby? Good girl, good fucking girl.”

You thought he’d be quiet, but something about his cock inside of you has the words tumbling out of his mouth. You can both feel his knot starting to swell, the heat of it making him sweat, the way it widens right at the base. It makes his hips stutter, more desperate, prevents him from sliding out all the way like he was before so he fucks you faster.

“Wanna feel you cum around my cock.” Your legs are over his shoulder now, one hand running circles over your clit, the other making its way around your neck. He doesn’t choke you, doesn’t press down, only holds you there as a show of power, but something about it has you arching your back into him.

He thinks it’s dangerous, makes him feel like you belong to him.

“Wanna cum around your cock,” you whisper to him in return, and he grunts.

“Yeah?” He smirks, but it’s gentle, almost like a smile, a soft upturn at the corner of his mouth. “Been aching for an alpha’s cock inside of you, haven’t you?”

“Just yours,” you tell him, your fingernails scratching at the nape of his neck. The confession has him pressing his teeth right next to your scent gland, making a mark where you can’t hide.

“This pussy belongs to me now, then,” he says it like something between a demand and a prayer. You gasp yes into his ear as you get closer to the edge, teetering off it. “Show me how my pussy cums for me. Cum around my cock, baby. You’ve been aching for it, haven’t you?” You can feel the pulse of his knot, his adam apple jumping as he swallows, mouth dry. “Go ahead and cum for me then.”

It’s your alpha’s order, your body follows like it responds only to his demands, it feels like it’s being ripped out of you as your chest presses against his and your mind goes blank, your slick gushing around his knot. He’s only seconds behind, spilling into you with a groan, his face in your shoulder, his nose against your scent gland so he can memorize the sweetness of you right at your peak.

It’s with a deep intake of breath that you both relax. He’s careful to position his body next to yours, to make sure he doesn’t crush you, even as his cock stays inside of you, his knot still slightly swollen. He swipes your hair back, thumb tracing over your hairline as he kisses your forehead, then your cheek, then presses his lips against yours for something saccharine sweet. You let him, drinking him in.

“Stay,” you tell him, and he chuckles, because it’s still more of an order than a request.

“Still got attitude,” he holds you close, rolling both of you over so you’re lying on top of him. “Not going anywhere, baby. Relax.”

“For my whole heat. Take my number too, while you’re at it.” Your words slur together, but the genuinity shows in your eyes.

“I’m a wanted criminal.” He says frankly.

“Oh yeah? Should’ve- fuck- should’ve told me that earlier. It’s almost like there’s a wanted poster on every street of you.”

“It doesn’t look like me.” He rakes a hand through your hair, his other massages the soreness in your thigh.

“Why’d Jing Yuan let you go anyways?”

“You wanna say another man’s name with my dick still inside of you?”

“Ah, sorry, so possessive. I think it’s going down now.” You lift yourself off of it slowly, and Blade watches with reverence as his seed slips out of you, milky white. He catches it on his fingers, pressing it back.

“S-Sensitive,” your nails press into his chest, and he kisses your shoulder in apology.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“Can’t move.”

“I’ll carry you.”

“We just showered.”

“Just a rinse. Then I’ll add your number, okay?”

“Okay.”

869 notes · View notes

beenbaanbuun · 9 months

Text

ateez’s reaction to their s/o falling asleep waiting for them

park seonghwa

he’s give you a familiar look when you tell him you’ll try and wait up for him

you can tell he doesn’t believe you but he lets you get on with it… if you want to try and stay up then so be it

when he gets home and sees you passed out in the couch, he just rolls his eyes before shuffling over to you to wake you up

“come on, darling,” he whispers and kisses your cheeks, “we’ve got to get to bed, okay?”

it takes a while to wake you up but he’s more than happy to support your tired body as he drags you up to bed

kim hongjoong

he’s used to coming home late to see you sleeping on the couch, but it never really gets old

he still finds it sweet every time he sees you face down, face pressed into a pillow with a string of drool running down your face

goes about getting ready for bed before even considering waking you up just so he can get into bed with you straight away

once he’s in his pyjamas, he’ll move over to the couch and whisper your name until your eyes flutter open

“hey there, gorgeous,” his voice is soft as you regain consciousness, “want to come up to bed with me?”

jeong yunho

so unbelievably soft for you when he comes home to see the netflix ‘are you still watching?’ screen and your body limp against the sofa

takes a commemorative photo before taking it upon himself to turn the tv off, as well as blow out the scented candle and turn the lamps off

kisses your forehead before lifting you up and carrying you to your bedroom in his grasp

when he dumps you down on the bed and notices you’re now half awake, he can’t help but smile

“go back to sleep, darling,” he says, “i’ll still be here when you wake up, okay?”

kang yeosang

the poor man probably thinks he’s done something wrong when he comes home to see you passed out on the couch rather than tucked up in his bed

will spend more than a few minutes wracking his brain to try and figure out what it is

by the time he’s come to the conclusion that he couldn’t have done anything wrong, his presence has woken you up and you’re calling out his name to grab his attention

when he looks over and sees you staring at him with open arms he realises that he’s probably just being paranoid

“angel,” he mutters as he shuffles closer and falls into your arms, “do you want to sleep in the bed?”

choi san

you never let san know that you were going to be waiting up for him, so when he comes home and sees a body facedown on the couch, he screams

it takes him a few seconds to realise that it isn’t a random body but is actually just you and he’s just woke you up from what seemed like a very peaceful sleep

he’s sheepish when you eventually come to and notice him blushing in embarrassment by the front door

he’s all over you in a desperate apology to make it up to you for waking you up…

“did you want me to carry you to bed? i can if you want!” he follows you up the stairs, “no? how about a cup of hot tea? no? you just want to sleep? but what about-”

song mingi

big baby blushes when he walks into your apartment and sees you on the couch sleeping peacefully in his hoodie

takes a few minutes to regain composure before waking you up, which he has no trouble with… the man is nothing if not straightforward

giggles when you try and have a groggy conversation with him, responding genuinely to everything you say as if it’s in any way coherent

literally puts you over his shoulder when you start to drop off again and drags you up the stairs to your bedroom

“uh-huh, princess,” he replies to whatever you just said, not that he understood it, “how about you go to sleep and you can carry on telling me about it tomorrow…”

jung wooyoung

oh! you fell asleep when you were supposed to be waiting up for him? good luck…

will wake you up straight away with a whine and a pout because of course he does! the man lives to be a walking, talking nightmare to everyone he knows

he loves it when you groan and apologise for falling asleep, but he isn’t quite done yet!

“you know you shouldn’t make promises if you’re not planning on keeping them!” he whines as you’re still trying to fully wake up, “i was really excited to come home and see my baby but what do i get? stabbed in the back!”

you’ve learned by now that the only way to get him to shut up is to kiss him and drag him to your bedroom to sleep

choi jongho

when jongho walks in late and sees you asleep on the couch, he just rolls his eyes and goes to get himself ready for bed

definitely makes just enough noise whilst doing so to wake you up… by ‘accident’, of course

waits in the bedroom for you to make your way to him, but when you don’t he pouts and goes to find out why

he notices that you’ve just fallen back asleep on the sofa, and whilst he’d love to wake you up and complain to you about not loving him enough to get in bed with him, he can’t bring himself to do it

just lifts you up and carries you into the bedroom before smothering you in his own body so he can sleep in peace with you by his side

#ateez x reader #ateez headcanons #ateez reactions #ateez fluff #ateez fic #ateez fanfic #ateez scenarios #atz x reader #atz fanfic #atz fluff #atz scenarios

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itsonlydana · 2 months

Text

Noisy Neighbors | hobbit

pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader x Bard 👑 [king's special]

Your new neighbors have been the bane of your existence - or rather sleep - for the last few nights, always keeping you up with their extensive love life. When you go up to confront the couple, you find another solution to the problem.

warnings/tags: NSWF! THIS IS ADULT CONTENT ✋️| [modern!AU] threesome, oral (f receiving), anal sex (m receiving), unprotected p in v, slight choking, brats (reader & Thranduil), mocking & dirty talk, Thranduil being a snarky bitch, he bites a bit, spitting, one ass-slap, praise, pet names, dom!bard, [reader is described with hair no further, no use of y/n]

word count: 6,2k

an: *lifts hands into the air* I'm sorry but writing Thranduil bitchy in this trio is what comes naturally, alright? I've been powering through this whole Sunday and between watching f1 and eating watermelon and packing up for a vacation, this surely made this day better. (not proofread, just wanted this baby out)

+ masterlist + rules + 🌿 reposts and comments are much appreciated, they motivate me a lot and keep me writing <3

They’re at it. Again!

Another night and you’re yet again held up by your neighbors fucking for the second time; on a Tuesday no less.

It’s 1 am and nearly seventy-three minutes – timed and noted down in your frazzled brain – after the noise had stopped the first time but now the moaning upstairs continues; this time accompanied by the banging of probably a bed frame that, if the force is anything to go by, is close to smashing in the walls.

You haven’t seen the new neighbors that had moved into the apartment above you, there had been moving trucks, a handful of handsome and very good-to-look-at guys carrying furniture around the garden and blocking the elevator for hours, leaving cigarette buts around and ringing at yours so often you doubted it was an accident every time, but there had been no one who introduced themselves.

Well, not personally.

Or rather in person, because what you hear every night is as personal as it gets.

As you lie in your bed, alone one might add, you wonder who this couple is.

Not that you have anything better to do. They’re the reason you’ve been either sleepless or fallen asleep to a lovely ASMR of two guys moaning that slowly snuck itself into your dreams; if anyone dares to say it isn’t appropriate or normal to think about the – sex – life of your neighbors you could counter that you had every right! Especially you.

They’re probably young, you figure, not by the number of times they’re going at each other and the length, god, it has been a good while, that stamina is astounding, but by whatever coherent words you can understand now and again, their voices delimited the range of possible ages.

And you had seen a pair of laced-up thigh-high black boots walking up the stairs after you had once heard the front door open and raced to peek through the peephole. Another time there had been a pair of very shiny and tight boxers left in the washing room downstairs and while you felt like a creep expecting them hanging on the line a few feet away from you, your basket clutched into your hands as you thought of the other renters here and how often you had seen their underwear, you concluded this must be one of theirs. The shoes as well as the boxers could belong to some older couple but that was most unlikely adding the different factors.

The names on their doorbell say ‘Oropherion & Bowmann’, though no Google search has brought up anything forth that could be them, nothing around this area anyway.

Another moan rips through the night, guttural and raspy, and by now, that sound’s imprinted into your mind as well as the gasp and shout that follow. A few seconds of bed rattling later the boyfriend/husband/lover roommate with lots and lots of benefits reaches his peak as well in a deep moan that reverberates in your bones and sends a heat to your face and much lower.

When silence falls, there’s an embarrassing moment of clarity as you release a shaking breath and quickly stand up on shaking legs to open your window, inhaling the cold air outside to fight against the urge to look up some porn and follow their example.

They’ve gotten to your head, twisted up whatever the stress at work had left to be corrupted into this perverse lust. On the one hand, you’ll do anything for a night of full sleep but on the other hand… what you wouldn’t do to – no, no, no, this route is just a spur of restlessness. Leftover frustration over the last few exes, and dates being unable to bring out whatever your neighbors clearly had no problems with.

They’re so vocal in their pleasure, that the last experiences of grinding against jeans in dingy club bathrooms or hookups ended in an unsatisfied call to a cab firm makes laying there, listening, fantasizing, even more unbearable.

Not just because of the few residues of your consciousness, the blaring ‘this is so wrong’ -sign lighting up neon red in your head, but taking in their noises travels a long way through your body and you’re short of actually snapping and resolving the issue of the throbbing inside your pants yourself.

The silence and air luckily help the cooldown; body and mind alike, and you wait, breathing in and out, calming down. Being up this late (or early) grants you the advantage of hearing the cicadas, the constant clicking, the low buzz of the aircon, and the distant rush of cars passing by. Somewhere there’s laughter, across the street, a TV light flickers through the white curtains fluttering in the opened window.

People and animals are still up. Life’s going on. Another night of losing sleep isn’t the end of the world, even if the long day ahead will try defiling this feeling of peace that you conjure, brain hooked on the few meditation videos your friend has shown you recently. The stress of this situation manifests in an uncontrollable grumpiness that slips over your tongue and spills out of your eyes like thunderous weather clouded once bright skies – suddenly, one sentence meant nice gets on your nerves.

You sigh and trot back to the pushed-back covers of your single bed, slipping your naked legs under the thin sheet. This is fine. Completely fine. You just need to close your eyes and concentrate on those damn sheep you had been counting before the rude interruption.

One sheep …. your shoulders sack into the pillow, relaxing slowly.

Two sheep … a heavy yawn breaks through your lips.

Three sheep … finally, you’ll be able to fall asleep. A few hours aren’t preferred, yet they’re better than no sleep at all.

Four sheep — and is that another. fucking. moan?

You sit up in your bed fast enough for dizziness to take over but that isn’t stopping any of the rage that switches your body to autopilot. In seconds after the godforsaken long moan echoes, you’re taking long and hard steps across your apartment, not caring one bit that you’re wearing neither shoes nor a long enough shirt to barely cover your ass and you haven’t even met them so this was neither an appropriate outfit nor emotion to confront them for the first time but fuck propriety!

“Fucking men,” you mumble underneath your breath as you waltz through your front door, – taking one step back to carefully push a sandal in between door and frame –, and then you’re up the stairs. Each step is fueled by that anger, the restlessness that pushes you over. In no other world would you have gotten this infuriated to completely ignore the otherwise introverted side of you, though they have taken it too far, “Just you wait.”

You basically fly across the corner of the stairway, rushing up the last few steps until you see the dark door, boots standing in front of it, and before you can even think about what you’re about to do, your fists already collide with the wood once, twice, three angry times.

Four for good measure.

Five just because they’re surely taking their time.

Before your hand knocks another time, the door is being ripped open and you’re suddenly face to face with the nightly disturbers of your peace. Or rather face to chest. You’re certain your eyes are still angry because when you lift your chin to look away from those sweaty chests and find their faces, the man closest to you flinches the tiniest bit.

“You’re fucking loud,” you point a finger firstly at them, then down, pronunciation making it clear that you aren’t swearing per se, “I’ve been trying to sleep for so fucking long and I’ll give you one guess why I’m still up and about? Huh? Ever heard of compassion for neighbors or– I don’t know, holding in some of the noises?” Your chest heaves at the row of complaints that spills over your curled lips, cheeks hot and very possibly just as red as they feel.

There is a second of silence where your voice carries through the hallway, bouncing along the walls.

You take the opportunity to give them a quick once-over, adding a wealth of new details to the mental picture you've been building. The man in front has dark brown, messy hair pulled into a ponytail, with some silver strands curling and sticking wetly to his forehead and temples. He sports a scruffy beard, with stubble on his pinkish cheeks and a thicker mustache over his lips. His body hair trails down, covering his defined chest, and extends further into the tight black boxers you saw in the basement.

The other one is strikingly different. Tall as well, towering over you though this has to do with the ice-cold and annoyed look that bores into you out of blue-grey eyes under heavy eyebrows. Long blonde hair falls over his lean chest, slightly ruffled but that’s no wonder after the two-and-a-half rounds in their bed. His lips are stuck together, adding to his attitude.

Both of them are gorgeous, dressed in nothing but boxers, and their bodies are marked by fingerprints and scratches. And while they surely are a bit older than you, that gap couldn’t be much.

“Wow,” the blonde, the one leaning against the wall behind his partner, the one being more long legs than anything else, rolls his eyes, “Aren’t you lovely?”

You swear you nearly feel a vein pop.

“Lovely?” you bring out between clenched teeth.

The brunette shoots a look over his shoulder, getting a shrug out of the taller one in exchange that most likely means he doesn’t care one bit, and then he turns back to you, offering a crooked smile that sinks in the edge of the right corner, an apology pulling the plush lips down. “I’m sorry,” he starts and nudges his head back, “an’ excuse Thranduil, he can be very – bratty.” The thick accent that curls around the words slightly surprises you but you’re back on track fast.

One eyebrow raised you stare at them. “Sure,” sarcasm drips over your tongue, “and to shut him up you dick him down or what?” In the morning, you’ll probably very much regret this crude language, the dismissive tone that resembles more a hiss than anything else.

“Yes, actually,” Thranduil cuts in and pushes his sharp chin up, looking down at you over the bridge of his nose. One of his hands, gods, they’re huge, lazily pats the broad shoulders of his partner, long and ringed fingers clanking together. He’s laying down heavily on some possessive shit you couldn’t care less about.

“Bite the curb or turn the moaning down,” you snap back, brows furrowed together.

“Maybe –”

“I’m Bard, by the way,” the brunette interrupts him and holds out a hand for you to shake. Hands, that had been who knew where a few minutes ago. Both of you seem to realize this at the same moment and while he cringes and pulls back, you offer your name, only looking at Bard and ignoring Thranduil, draped over Bard's back like a prying cat.

“Nice to meet ya. Thought about coming down a few times but never caught you home,” Bard says, attempting small talk. His effort is overshadowed by the sharp look-over Thranduil gives you, and it's clear that this is not the time to play the friendly neighbor.

You make that clearer by crossing your arms in front of your chest, unconsciously bunching up your shirt, and revealing the black string of your panties. Bard swallows, heavily.

“Well, nice to meet you,” you echo back dryly and cock your hip, “Can I go back to sleep in peace now? Are we done with this?”

Bard’s smile is pained, a bit embarrassed if you have to guess. “Sure, sorry again.”

“I’m not.”

Thranduil hasn’t even looked at you as he whispers loud enough into Bard’s ears that it’s definitely meant for yours as well. And that piece of shit has the gall to flutter his lashes, his mouth ghosting over the hickey right against Bard��s neck, the offending lips curled into a smirk you want to wipe off.

The sigh that leaves Bard is deep and deflates his whole chest, his shoulders following the drop of his arms. “Thran–”

“Oh, is that right?” On the contrary, you push your shoulders back and tip your head, sizing up the neighbor who, in your opinion, can move right back out again. No matter how pretty and unfairly sexy he is, that mouth of his ruins it. “Where do you pull out this fucking behavior? I just came here because you two have been going at it for hours and haven’t bothered to think about anyone else. I'm so sorry that –”

“Apology accepted,” Thranduil grins. His grey eyes are gleaming in amusement at your noticeable anger and he makes a high sound out of the back of his throat that sounds a lot like a giggle.

“Fucking hell, Thran!” Bard slaps his hand back, the flat of his palm meeting flexing muscles of Thranduil’s thigh, and lowly, sensually, Thranduil moans. This man is the walking definition of shamelessness.

That sound, the low vibration that usually comes through your walls, shoots to your core so fast that you sputter on the next breath. Hot curling heat makes itself comfortable in your lower stomach and you can’t help but blush – a feast for the unabashed man.

“If I had known we had such’ prude for a neighbor we would’ve found another place,” Thranduil says, most likely just to tease, because in the few minutes you’d known him, he’s definitely a teasing brat.

Ready to fight for yourself you shake your head and furrow your brows further. “I'm not prude –”

“It’s okay” A Cheshire cat-like smile disproves the false compassion, making it all sound much more patronizing. Thranduil has gotten under your skin, an itch you yearn to scratch however you can, “Nothing to be ashamed of.”

“No, but I’m not a prude!” You lick your teeth, stepping closer to their door as if that will make your point more convincing than the tight vintage shirt you’re wearing, with a fading Care Bear printed right over your tits.

In mocking, Thranduil rests his chin on Bard’s shoulder, holding your slowly wavering gaze. “Not everybody is comfortable with such an active sex life.”

With ease he smothers every bit of self-control you have left, thinning out your resolve to stand higher than him. You glower, all the thoughts of failed one-night stands pressing onto your tongue and loosening it faster than you can realize what you’re spitting in front of their feet – one statement powerful enough to change the entire atmosphere into another type of tension:

"I would be if I would get it!"

“Woah, let’s take it a notch back, shall we, hun?” Bard’s soothing voice could have been directed at each or either one of you two, and you notice how heavy your breathing has become, how much your hands twitch pressed against your breasts, and how Bard’s eyes flicker over where the shirt stretches tighter.

Interesting…

The hand on Thranduil’s thigh wanders higher, immediately capturing your attention and it's the tanned color of it against ivory white that gets you. The difference in softness and hardness, obvious callouses moving over smooth skin.

As subtly as possible, you shift your weight to squeeze your thighs together, heightening the throbbing evoked by every inch of skin in front of you.

Neither Thranduil nor Bard misses it. You can tell it by Bard’s eyes darkening, Thranduil’s smirk widening dangerously and their stance, Thranduil’s arms slinging across Bard’s taut stomach, fiddling with the silky band of his boxers, as well as Bard leaning more right – opening up the way into their dark apartment.

“What if –,” Bard starts, fingers digging into Thranduil’s thigh.

Ice-cold eyes that suddenly burn with hot interest look you over, stopping right where the hem of your shirt exposes your underwear, “You could join us?”

The offer shuts down your body as soon as your mind comprehends what Thranduil’s lowered, honeyed voice had presented to you and unfortunately, the inquiring “huh?” sounds much more like a whimper than originally planned. This question, this golden opportunity presented on a silver platter is fuel to the aching arousal pooling in your stomach and you can’t deny that, while lying in bed at night, listening to their intimacy, hadn’t evoked that dirty thought in you.

Flushes of heat spread from your pelvis. You lick over your teeth.

“What?” you laugh nervously.

“You’ve heard us right,” Thranduil’s hand stills over the v of Bard’s hips. That he doesn’t move is nearly as taunting as the constant toying, wandering, and scratching he had done till then.

“Pff as if –,” you stutter stubbornly, even if the pooling of wetness in your underwear betrays you, “as if.. as if I'm gonna waltz into the apartment of two strangers.. two men! You could do whatever to me!”

“Yeah, and you heard exactly what we could bring out of you”

Their moans and the bed slamming against the wall are pretty good arguments against a case already won in their favor, despite how you’re still trying to grasp for straws.

“My organs when you strip me to the bed and murder me silently?”

“Jeez, you have an imagination woman. Is the stick this far up your ass that –”

“Babe!” Bard’s elbow lands in Thranduil’s side, warningly and soft just like his voice.

“No, let him finish” you glare at Thranduil, “I’d like to know what he thinks about presumed stick in my arse and its results.”

“I think you are prude and underfucked, jealous and so stripped up tightly you won't admit that a good fuck – and honey, I’ll deliver nothing less – would loosen you up,” Thranduil finishes his speech with a tip of his head forward, daring you to talk back and gosh, you wish you had some comeback, anything to prove him wrong, however, the wetness that sticks syrupy between your legs strikes out all other thoughts except:

You want them. You want both of these men.

“So—so what?” you retort, knowing they're right, a pout forming on your lips and a persistent crease of defiance. “That's such a testosterone-driven answer; typical man, thinking their cocks are the miracle cure to a woman’s dry spell.”

Even Bard tuts now, his soft eyes falling to your underwear. “You sure? Hun, you can whine all ‘bout but I can see your cute little panties being all wet – oh come on, don’t blush, I see them alright?” And sure, the material may cling to your cunt and the breeze in the hallway coming from an open window enhances that feeling, but– “Darlin’,” Bard chuckles, “Stop thinking, ‘s not that hard to accept you want it. Come on in, let Thranduil apologize sincerely for his hissy fit.”

You huff.

Thranduil breathes a kiss toward you, pink lips forming a cute heart, and you only think: “Fuck it.”

Thranduil’s mouth, as he proves a few minutes later, is quite good at apologizing, fantastic even.

You’re spread on your back across their bed – ironically you find out it’s directly above yours –, legs opened up by his large hands, the metal of his rings biting ice-cold into the heated flesh as he kneads his fingers into your thighs and teases you most annoyingly by kissing all around your clit. His arms are wrapped around you in a way that's confining you to lie there and take whatever he decides to give you, or not in some moments.

“Pretty girl –,” Thranduil murmurs into the sensitive and practically vibrating skin, “Should’ve known there’s something sweet about that sour tongue.” His tongue is just as bitter, licking straight through your folds, gathering the absurd amount of wetness and ending shortly before your clit to press a wide opened mouth kiss into you.

Your hips buck upward in desperation and at the same time exhilaration and Thranduil’s biceps flex to pin you down again; giving you no wiggle room.

“Better lie still,” Bard whispers and tilts your head back by the hand he wraps loosely around your throat. It’s not hard enough to blur your vision, but just hard enough to remind you of the power he holds over you. His fingertips close in together, putting the right amount of pressure on your windpipe for you to gasp for air; then he pounces in and takes over your lips in a heated kiss.

Your behavior, because you do in fact give it your best to stop your legs from crushing the head between your legs, is rewarded by Thranduil with the assistance of his tongue finally flicking over your swollen clit, first playfully then in earnest. He closes his lips around the bundle of nerves, grazing his teeth slightly over it and your head would’ve fallen back if it isn’t for the hand holding you to Bard. “Oh fuck,” you whine and grasp down.

The second you burrow your hands into Thranduil’s hair, twirling some strands around your fingers for a better hold, he moans into you. Hot air meets the wetness of your pussy and the tips of your nails dig slightly into his hair roots. It turns him on more, that you grind yourself desperately against his face, your hands weaved into his hair to get back control and Thranduil’s tongue swipes over your pussy, diving in to plunge the tip into your entrance.

“That’s it,” he gasps, sending the words straight through you while he fucks his tongue back into you a few times. Then he switches back to sucking on your clit and doesn’t stop; no matter how your thighs shook and fought to shut close, he stayed on his task of taking you completely into his mouth and rolling his tongue in figure-eights, circling in closer and closer.

The sounds of Thranduil eating you out are pornographic, slickness from your spit and wetness, his ever-constant breathing and relentless swirls through your pussy that have your back in a wonderful arch. Bard’s lips swallow most of your whimpers up, and when he starts to lick his tongue against yours, teeth playfully tugging on your lower lip, you feel the stars before you see them.

It starts up fast, heading toward you at full speed and you choke out your orgasm in a broken wail, fingers tightening in Thranduil’s hair. When he doesn’t stop and stimulation becomes overstimulation, your eyes flutter to escape the nearly drunken stare of his gray eyes hidden under long lashes and finally, he slows down. Bard too, leaves your lips in one last, dragged-out kiss that you want to chase after; his mouth is too sweet and gentle, a perfect harmony of caring and hunger.

“All attitude until the attitude drips down her legs and messes up our bedsheets,” Thranduil laughs huskily and wipes the back of his hand over his glistening lips and chin. He puckers his mouth, a wide grin on his face as he crawls up to you. “Now, how do you want this?”

Breathless, you look up to Thranduil and Bard, the latter already moving to shed himself of his boxers. When you see what Bard packs under the tight black underwear a wheezing laugh escapes your throat.

“Yeah,” you scoff at his arched eyebrow, “I would be fucking that multiple times as well.”

His cock stands heavy against his stomach, thick and bobbing, white precum rolling down the veins. “Like what you see?” Bard teases, one hand wrapped around himself, leisurely stroking up and down. “I’ll let you have a taste if you’re good.”

A large palm spreads over your abdomen and Thranduil slides two fingers down to pinch your still sensitive clit so you yelp and scowl at him. “You won’t be getting any of that tonight,” his voice sounds threateningly possessive, and at the sight of his much taller body towering over yours and that look in his eyes, your stomach flips. “Don’t think I’ll let you hop on there after you disturbed us. Tonight –,” Again, that word that emphasized like he did promises more nights after this, “tonight he’s mine.” The last bit he whispers into your ear, the soft locks of his hair brushing your still-covered chest.

All that Thranduil had time to undress you for, had been your underwear and those had landed ripped into two somewhere in the darkness of their bedroom. This meant you would have to borrow some of theirs or rush downstairs with your cunt on display and after this should be over, you have no idea if you would even be able to walk.

Thranduil, by the feeling of his bulge pressing into your stomach, isn’t small either. That cockiness had to have a source somewhere and they don’t call it that for no reason.

Bard’s laughter interrupts the staring contest you two have going on, otherwise you’re not sure how long it would’ve gotten on or who would’ve quit first; not you, he could poke his cock into you however he wants. The other man walks around the bed, heading to the end where Thranduil’s long legs hang off and by the sudden twitch in the body crowding yours into the mattress and the cry Thranduil lets out, you strongly think there has been a tickling involved.

You laugh as well, the sound dying swiftly when Thranduil turns back to you and grinds his hips into you. All that comes out then, is a straggled whine.

“Fucking asshole,” you grumble and pull on his hair again, forcing his head down for you to kiss his wet lips.

Able to taste yourself on his tongue, you greedily open your mouth further, and Thranduil wastes no second to dominate. He takes over the kiss, distracting you just enough that you don’t notice Bard taking off Thranduil’s boxers until the cock against your stomach twitches at a particular noise out of the back of your throat and precum dribbles onto your skin.

“Someone’s eager,” you tease.

Thranduil promptly bites you in return. “Says the slut moaning under me,” he retorts, scratching his canines across your neck. “Now, take that skimpy shirt off or I’ll rip it like that sad excuse of underwear.”

You roll your eyes but follow his demand, pulling the tight shirt off and flinging it away. Free for him to touch, Thranduil’s fingers of one hand find your right tit, and, putting the rock-hard pebble in between them, he steals the air out of your lungs pulling and twisting your nipples. “At least, oh fuck you –!”

Your attempt to speak gets drowned out by a cry of need and suddenly, you’re getting crushed into the mattress by Thranduil’s heavy weight, his fingers still tight around your nipple and his mouth close to your ear. His ass is the only thing not forcing you down.

Bard, who has been silently chuckling and observing until now, decided the time’s right to move this forward and over the head of blonde hair pushing itself into the crook of your neck, panting hotly and frustrated, you see Bard circling his rim with two fingers.

“So that’s what shuts you up,” you whisper for Thranduil to hear.

He lifts his head slightly, though the angry eyebrows fall quickly at another moan.

Behind Thranduil, illuminated by the moonlight outside, Bard looks positively majestic and dominating, his shoulder-length hair free from the ponytail, falling ruffled into his face as he inhales and forcefully spits down to where his fingers are slowly pushing further into the ass presented to him.

“That’s good, Darlin’,” he praises and Thranduil keens, eyes full of hearts, “Push back a bit, makin’ it easy for me, aren’t you? Go on, sweetheart.” At your gasp – you’re not unaffected by the praise, not at all and if you weren’t coming down from a sensational orgasm that had your clit in flames.. – Bard looks up and winks at you. “Go on. Wonderful, you’re just the best. Look at you, beautiful.” He’s obviously talking to Thranduil but you follow his command despite it; the aura around Bard makes it impossible to do anything less than obey.

Lying there under these two men, feeling their weight, hearing their moans and the rasps of their deep voices, and being clouded in the smell of sweat, cum, and body odors mixing, is fulfilling fantasies you hadn’t been creative enough to think up.

“Oh – Bard, can you – hah, yes, there –” Thranduil arches into the touch catlike, his back up in the air and the curve of his spine glistening, now that a few drops of sweat are decorating the skin, marked in pink trails of fingernails of a hand that twists slightly and adds another finger.

Your chest is full of blonde hair, platinum after another inspection, strands perfect to comb your hands through. Thranduil’s lashes flutter beautifully. His lips open up, puffing out airy breaths, pink plush lips coated in spit after he runs his tongue over them.

Biting down a comment of how he had been right about the ‘shutting up and dicking down’, you act without thinking. The kiss is much slower and sensual than the last, maybe to distract Thranduil from that pain/pleasure that Bard afflicts on him, opening him up four fingers at one time. Soon though, the grind of Thranduil’s hips becomes too much to endure, he already left a wet trail of precum all over you and while you’re still gasping into his mouth, you blindly reach between your bodies.

“Goddamit,” you grunt, angling your hips slightly, “You’re no help at all.”

“What?” Thranduil groans and everything vibrates, “I’m the one having four fingers up my arse, can’t you just wait a fucking second?”

“Mhm, no.”

“You’re such a brat,” he leans down, hair fanning over you and trapping you in a bubble where it’s just you, his panting breath and the fire in his eyes; he’s gorgeous. “I’m sorry but –”

“Apology accepted,” you cut him off, smiling sweetly.

A second later you swear you’re being ripped apart; immediately tears spring into your eyes, hiding Thranduil’s satisfied smirk behind a watery curtain as he pushes his cock in further, stretching you past known limits. The only proof that you’re still breathing is the pitchy moan, the whine that follows the stretch of inch after inch.

“Fuuck–”

It’s going on forever. The rocking of Thranduil’s hips. The slow drill of his cock pushing its way through you, carving a spot into your clenching walls. Surely it’ll come out of your throat.

You blink fast, regain your vision, and look down.

“Oh my fucking god,” you slap a hand against Thranduil’s shoulder, trying to get a grip on reality, “How are you this big?”

“He’s a mouthful,” Bard pitches in, grinning, and finally reaches a point where he has prepared Thranduil enough. He spits again; once into his hand, which he immediately closes around his cock again, and once between the globes of Thranduil’s ass, watching it trail down. Bard gathers some of Thranduil’s long hair to gently push it over his side. “Are you ready, my love?” he bows down for a soft kiss to the protruding bones of Thranduil’s arched spine.

Ironically, that's what finally gets you and Thranduil on the same page.

A page that was full of unintelligible curses, punctuated by groans and underlined by hands grabbing for each other.

Your hand digs itself into Thranduil’s back as he finally bottoms out, buried so deep you can feel him in the back of your throat – or that’s the pressure from that massive cock bullying your insides – and he stills, hipbones digging into you as well as if he hasn’t already marked you up enough with his girth.

Bard reaches forward, thus pushing in faster than Thranduil expects it and your fingers intertwine over the blonde's back. Electricity zips through you, starting from your toes pressing into the sheets, up your shaking thighs to your clenching cunt, and higher up your spine into your head.

Thranduil, fully sandwiched between you, can do nothing except follow the unforgivable rhythm Bard sets.

The bed creaks as he rocks into you, just when Bard pushes in. The start is messy, lots of “There–” and “Fuck, slower–” until they change it up.

Thranduil’s breathing is ragged and erratic as he moves against you, his hips pistoning against yours in a steady, firm rhythm. His arms hold you in place, his body covering you completely, lips moving along your neck and shoulder. You, being just on the receiving end, take everything he gives.

“Finally out of complaints, aren’t you?” he angles his hips to thrust harder. “A – ahh – all you needed was a good cock to shut you up.”

You almost gag on a whine, proving him just right. “No– so-ohh – not true.”

A fleeing look to Bard and you’re silently begging. For what you don’t know. Maybe his support. Maybe to fuck Thranduil hard enough he swallows his words.

“Oh, Thranduil,” Bard starts and you truly think he’ll be on your side, “If she’s still trying to mouth back you’re doing something – fuck – wrong!”

Thranduil laughs, fucking laughs. Each snap of his hips fills the room with shameless sounds, and as painful as it is to admit, his low baritone causes your pussy to clench tighter, dripping arousal. The fire they started burns higher when he wedges one hand down between your legs, somehow landing on your clit perfectly despite the brutal pace of his and Bard’s thrust.

“You should’ve come up the first day you heard us,” Thranduil spits out, “Could’ve had this cock making you happy every night. You needed this, right? Someone, to fuck you stupid? Did you lie awake all night and listened to Bard fucking me, fiddling with yourself as if your dumb little fingers could ever come close to this?” His middle finger demonstratingly flicks your clit up.

“Please, oh– please, please,” you sob, the messy circles he’s rubbing with his thumb dumbing you down to a mumbling mess. Pleasure dances in every vein, lights up nerve endings in white-hot fire.

"Gosh, I think I’m feeling that stick I had been talking about,” Thranduil rasps, pressing his palm against your lower stomach, bringing out another wail, “Oh wait no, that's just me giving you exactly what you needed."

You’re wringing out his cock, every stroke sends him deeper and deeper, crushing your g-spot, urged on by the slaps of Bard’s balls. He’s taking it slower, staying against Thranduil’s prostate and spreading his hands in the long hair to control when his boyfriend slams into you.

“C’mon, honey. Be good and come on Thran’s cock, won’t you? He’s so sorry for his bratty behavior but as you can see –” Bard sends his hand down swiftly, shocking you as his palm lands flat on Thranduil’s right cheek with a loud ‘smack’; a scream of pleasure and Bard pats the already reddening skin, “he’s insatiable.”

That’s what does it for you, in the end.

Already spiraling toward the edge with Thranduil’s pace and his fingers slipping, rubbing, flicking in all directions, it’s the calmness in Bard that sends you over. The relaxed hold in Thranduil’s hair, how he thrones above you, patiently waiting for his turn because he’s already fucked Thranduil twice tonight – what are another few minutes of watching you slurring their names?

If Thranduil’s cock broke you in half, the orgasm that spikes through you angrily and into every cell splinters whatever’s there to shred. It’s blinding, hot and cold, a wildfire and ice bath. It’s the strongest you’ve cum in a while and your brain shuts down.

Thranduil groans as you clench around him, but, sensing – or seeing it in your fucked out expression – that you can’t take anymore, he drags his cock out of you.

Half conscious your head drops to the side as you try to catch a breath that isn’t sweat and hair. Through blurred eyes, you have a front-row seat to the change in Bard. He swiftly lifts his head once, shaking back his hair and exposing the long column of his throat and the muscles that flex in his shoulder, before he’s sprawled atop Thranduil, grabbing the red and heavy cock wet with your cum and fucks him.

Raw and unapologetic.

Fingers pull on Thranduil’s hair, forcing his head back into his neck and Thranduil groans, arching his back closer to Bard. It’s a glorious sight, their hips meeting again and again, Bard’s hand wrapped around Thranduil’s cock, pulling and jacking him off in that same rhythm that Thranduil had rubbed you earlier.

Bard’s panting as well now, grinding more than thrusting and watches himself disappear inside Thranduil. “You feel so good, Thran–” he mumbles, “one more time for me, alrigh’ gorgeous? You did perfectly tonight, taking me three times.”

The praise continues to rain, hailing down like the short and precise twitches of Bard’s hips and when Thranduil hits the bed in a low moan of Bard’s name, coating the bedsheets underneath him white, Bard follows shortly after; buried deep inside his boyfriend.

For a while, the room is filled with efforts to catch your breath. Sweat clings to your body like a second skin, glistening on Thranduil and Bard lying close to each other next to you as well.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, “the neighbors are gonna hate us.”

#📁files: thranduil fanfics #thranduil fanfic #thranduil smut #thranduil fic #thranduil fanfiction #thranduil x you #thranduil x reader #bard the bowman fanfic #bard the bowman smut #bard bowman smut #barduil fanfiction #barduil smut #barduil x reader #bard x reader #bard x thranduil #the hobbit smut #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit fanfiction

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chris-prank · 21 days

Text

Yandere villain sidekick NSFW drabbles

CW: NSFW (obviously), sneaky masturbating while on a call, soft masochist, allusion of reader giving but also receiving and sub yandere

You can go check Dr. Seraph's Part 1 here! Since some of the things here will reference it!

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The more time went on after he had this special encounter with you, the more his imagination started to go into… naughty territories. At first he scolded himself for thinking such things about you, but slowly he started to accept his lewd fantasies as he timidly rubbed his bulge. In the end, pathetic whines escaped his lips while he rutted his closed dick into his palms, wishing you were the one touching him.

Dr.Seraph's not the type to be fighting on the field. Usually he is behind his computer or monitor, watching his inventions do the heavy work for him. At the very least he will use weapons that don't require hand to hand combat. Since Vincent uses intercoms to talk to you, nothing can stop him from doing other activities during fights. While he interacts with you, he sometimes pathetically strokes his dick, trying his best to keep down his moans.

You’re too busy anyway to hear his whimpers and if not, you just think his creations are connected to him in some way. He must be crying out in pain!

Watching you destroy everything in your path, while groaning and flexing your perfect body makes him cum in a matter of seconds. You’re already so hot when you’re covered in sweat, he would kill to see you oiled u—WHO SAID THAT!

I think we can all easily guess that this guy has a huge praise kink. Nothing can turn him on more than you whispering into his ear how much of a good and smart boy he is.

Like I said before, Dr. Seraph is a bit of a masochist even if he doesn’t like to admit it. What he loves the most is if you go back to being soft right after you slap, spank or bite him. In his head it’s proof that no matter how many times you fought him, deep down you cared about him just like you do now.

After pressing your foot on his cock, praise him and gently rub his length in a comforting way, that will make his eyes roll back.

Vincent loves feeling like he is being taken care of, so please take him in your arms while you ram yourself into him or bounce on his dick.

He wants to be close with you as much as he physically can, that being a result of his years of fighting you from afar. He especially relishes in nuzzling his head against you, whatever it be your stomach, your chest, etc.

No matter the position, he prefers it when you are towering over him. He just wants to admire you in all your glory.

He cries a lot during sex, his cock and prostate are just that sensitive.

Also very very shy while doing it. He might try to hide his face multiple times, especially if you do some dirty talk. You can use this to your advantage to do some light teasing.

Despite Vincent being a very small guy, let's say that his dick compensates for it by being over average, measuring 7 inches when hard (yes he is indeed proud of it.)

He doesn’t talk much during sex, not that he isn’t vocal, quite the contrary. You will know he is enjoying it if he keeps making whimpers and moans.

It’s just that the pleasure makes it very difficult for him to put coherent phrases together. The most he can do is say two or three words at a time.

Aftercare is a must! He really wants to be able to cuddle and relax in your arms when everything is done. It’s like the cherry on top for him, it brings everything together.

If you were really rough with him he might fall asleep against you quickly, however it's not because he is unconscious that his arms will let you go out of his grasp.

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#yandere #yandere x gn reader #yandere male #yandere oc #yandere drabble #tw yandere #sub!yandere #sub yandere #yandere villain #gn reader #x gn reader #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #My oc-Vincent #My oc-Dotor Seraph #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios

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s-lverwing · 16 days

Text

02. VEIL OF BETRAYAL

pairing. aegon targaryen x velaryon (targaryen)!reader x maelor targaryen (aegon’s twin).

summary. queen alicent subtly weaponizes your buried fears against your deep sense of duty. And the twin brothers only deepen your sense of sin. Forbidden desires rarely earn the favor of destiny’s eyes.

word count. 5.3k (sorry, again…. why am i yapping so much). ao3 link

warnings. angst, mommy issues, targcest (niece and uncles?), toxic relationships. heavy pinning. kind of infidelity? religious guilt. internalized misogyny. bastardphobia? no aegon here. english isn’t my first language and i haven’t read the books.

a/n. it starts right after the end of chapter 1. please if you’re enjoying this leave a comment, reblog, whatever u want 🐛. and i plan to read fire and blood because i feel so dumb searching things on google…

— previous chapter

The hallways of the Red Keep stretched endlessly before you, each step feeling more distant, as though the very ground beneath your feet was slipping away. A high-pitched ringing filled your ears, drowning out everything but the erratic thudding of your heart, which seemed to shake your entire being. Your vision was blurred, and you scarcely registered Maelor’s firm grip on your arm, steadying you as you nearly stumbled down the stone steps.

A whirlwind of thoughts raced through your mind, yet it was impossible to grasp a single one. The summons from Queen Alicent had been unexpected, unsettling, a sharp contrast to the routine of your days. Rarely did the queen seek your presence — or was in your presence, except during the formality of dinners or the fleeting moments when she entered the room in the middle of a conversation with King Viserys. There was an unspoken distance between you, one that you could never bridge despite your strange fondness for her; in a way you pitied her. But in truth, you always wanted her to be fond of you, perhaps that was why you often found solace in the Sept.

The heavy doors of the Queen’s chambers loomed before you, guarded by Ser Criston Cole. He ushered you and Maelor inside, and as the doors closed with a resounding thud, the world seemed to narrow into a single point. The unease in your stomach grew sharper, cutting through the fog of your thoughts.

“Your Grace,” you murmured, curtsying as you met Alicent’s gaze. Her eyes, cool and assessing, flickered over you, taking in your tear-stained cheeks and the redness that rimmed your eyes. Maelor, standing at your side, addressed her with the casual ease of familiarity, “Mother.”

Alicent’s expression shifted to one of mild concern, though there was an undercurrent of something sharper, as she spoke: “Were you crying? Where have you been? Has something happened?”

The questions hung in the air, and for a moment, you struggled to form a coherent response. But before you could speak, Maelor’s arm snaked around your shoulders in an uncharacteristic gesture of closeness, silencing you. His touch was not comforting.

“I found her with Helaena,” Maelor said, a hint of satisfaction in his voice.

Alicent’s brow furrowed, her eyes narrowing as she studied you. There was always something disapproving in her gaze, as though your very presence was a source of irritation; even when she was the one requesting your presence. You were an unwelcome reminder of things she preferred to forget—of the king’s favoritism, of a lineage she loathed. You were a symbol of her husband’s neglect of his own children, and worse, a bastard who had inherited Valyrian’s traits, in contrast to your bastard brothers. She preferred to be dead before marrying her sons to a bastard, but then again, she had no saying in those matters, because Otto Hightower made the decision for her.

She pursed her lips, her displeasure barely concealed. “But why were you crying?” she pressed, her tone dripping with mock concern. She savored this moment, relished the opportunity to remind you of your insignificance. She enjoyed every opportunity she had to remind you of your place, and oh how lost you looked since your mother left you here.

Her voice laced with false sweetness as she continued, “What could possibly have happened to you, dear?”

Her use of the word “dear” was nothing but a mockery, a blade wrapped in silk. Your gaze hardened as you looked up at her through your lashes, the hatred simmering beneath your skin, barely contained. Alicent noticed the defiance in your eyes, and it only seemed to amuse her.

“I—I just tripped,” you lied, your voice barely audible as you cast your eyes downward.

“Oh, then we shall have the maester—” she began, but you cut her off, your voice gaining strength.

“—That won’t be necessary, Your Grace. I am fine.” You paused, forcing yourself to meet her gaze, your heart pounding as you asked, “Why am I here?”

Alicent rolled her eyes, a gesture so dismissive it stung like a slap. “We have been discussing your future with your mother,” she said, her voice clipped and filled with irritation, as though the matter of your life was an inconvenience to her. “It’s… complicated.” She sighed, but her eyes burned with barely concealed anger, as if your very existence was the complication she wished to be rid of.

“Do you mean I will be sent to Dragonstone?” you asked, a sliver of hope creeping into your voice. The thought of leaving the Red Keep, of escaping the suffocating presence of the queen, seemed like a distant dream. Even when you dreaded the idea of marrying someone like your bastard brother.

But your hope was dashed when Alicent let out a choked laugh, echoed by Maelor, who tightened his grip on you, as though claiming you as his own — because he knew what was about to come. “No,” Alicent said, her eyes flicking to Maelor’s hand on your arm, a spark of something unreadable flashing across her face before it hardened once more.

The heavy doors to the chamber swung open, and you jumped at the sound, your heart leaping into your throat. Otto Hightower entered the room, his expression one of barely contained satisfaction, his gaze locking onto you with an intensity that made your skin crawl. But on his face was a ghost of a smile.

“It’s good to see you both already pleased with our decision,” Otto said, his voice smooth and calculated, a half-smile playing on his lips as he looked at you, his eyes gleaming with unspoken intent.

Though you longed for the warmth of a father’s care, Otto’s gaze offered none of that, in this moment. It was cold, calculating, and beneath his veneer of a somewhat paternal concern lay something far more dark. You could never quite see through his intentions, never quite discern the web of schemes he wove around you all. Yet, despite the unease he inspired, a part of you still craved the safety of his approval, blinding you to the danger lurking beneath.

You pushed Maelor’s arm away, taking a small step back, your mind rushing as you tried to make sense of what was happening. “What decision?” you whispered, your voice trembling as a deep frown crowned your stare. Your eyes, still red and glossy with unshed tears, darted between Otto and Alicent, searching for answers.

Otto regarded his daughter for a moment, a silent exchange passing between them before he turned his attention back to you. “It is a wise decision,” he began, his tone patronizing, “to unite our families… for you and Maelor to marry… each other.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. Your breath caught in your throat, the room spinning as the weight of the announcement pressed down on you. “Maelor?” you repeated, your voice barely a whisper, the name tasting like sand on your tongue. Your gaze flickered to Maelor, who was grinning. “Don’t I have a say in this?”

“Go on,” The hand of the King said, his voice a smooth command, cutting off whatever protest Alicent might have offered. She looked as though she might be sick, the thought of you marrying her favored son turning her stomach. How could a bastard like you dare to consider herself more worthy than Maelor?

You swallowed hard, your heart racing as you summoned the courage to speak. “I—I think it would be wiser to marry me to Aegon,” you said, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. Your hands trembled, slick with sweat, as you feared they might see through you, see the truth you tried so desperately to hide. But there was no outcry, no immediate suspicion. Otto raised an eyebrow, and Alicent clutched her stomach, her face a mask of disdain.

“I am in the line of succession,” you continued, your voice a bit steadier now, though your insides twisted with dread. “I am the heir to the throne. It would be wise to marry me to the King’s firstborn son.”

Alicent’s scoff sliced through the tension, her eyes hardening with resolve. “Aegon will be married to Helaena,” she declared, the decision already set in stone. “She needs to stay close to her home.” Her tone softened slightly, as if explaining something that should have been obvious; but it also held the love she has for Helaena.

It was your turn to clutch your stomach, feeling the bile rise as fresh tears threatened to spill from your already swollen, red eyes. Your entire world was spinning. Every sacrifice you had ever made now seemed in vain, and it felt as though the Gods had turned their backs on you, rejecting your prayers. It wasn’t the loss of Aegon you feared, but the storm brewing on the horizon—the political games, the power plays that had once been distant now felt inescapable, you were always a pawn. And betrothal was far more than just a political arrangement. It was a prison sentence.

You weren’t ready to be caged within the Red Keep, churning out heirs year after year to secure the bloodline. Your mind scolded you for ever listening to Aegon’s empty promises. Promises of choice—lies, all of them.

“Maelor suggested—” Alicent began, but you cut her off.

“I have a petition,” you blurted, the words tumbling from your lips before you’d even fully thought them through. The ringing in your ears grew louder. The words barely registered in your own mind.

“You’re in no position to make petitions!” Queen Alicent shot to her feet, her voice sharp.

“I am in a position! I am in a position to demand everything!” Your voice rose, cracking under the weight of your frustration. “Wasn’t I born to be queen? Am I not the heir to the Iron Throne?” The room seemed to hold its breath as you threw down your claim. It wasn’t that you lacked faith in your mother’s right to the throne, but Aegon’s claim was backed by the laws of the Andals. You knew this, and that knowledge fueled your desperation to secure your own survival—to make yourself indispensable. If you were no longer necessary, you were expendable. Or at least know that the council isn’t planning to murder you.

Alicent’s eyes flared with rage, but there was something deeper there—a flicker of recognition, maybe even regret. You saw it. For just a moment, she wasn’t the Queen but a woman who had once been in your position—trapped by duty, by the demands of others. Now, like you, she was no longer warm, no longer kind. You could see the shadow of her younger self in her expression, the version of Alicent who still had hope, who hadn’t been tainted.

No one spoke, and the silence only fueled your resolve. You pressed on, your voice stronger now, staring at Otto. “Wasn’t I obliged to learn about politics and war strategy while other highborn girls spent their days gossiping and learning how to be meek and pretty? Have I not been loyal to this crown, to the realm?” You shook your head, the injustice of it all burning in your chest. “If I’m not to marry Viserys’ firstborn son, then I deserve more than this. I won’t be handed off to a second son without something in return. I want a seat on the council.”

“You insolent—” Alicent began trying to defend his son, now long forgotten in the room. But you cut her off again.

“I don’t want to hear it.” Your voice sharp now, like the edge of a blade, as you whip your head at her. “I fear what happens when Viserys dies. I know what war can bring to women and children. I’m protecting myself.”

Otto Hightower, who had been watching the exchange with a measured expression, finally spoke. “We can find you a spot,” he said, his voice cool, knowing full well the futility of it. A woman on the council—someone to be seen but never heard.

“It’s settled, then.” Your voice wavered slightly, but you held your ground.

“Leave us,” Alicent ordered, waving you off, her face pinched with frustration. She couldn’t hide her disdain for what had just transpired, but she knew as well as Otto did that there was little choice in the matter. You obeyed, turning on your heel, but not before noticing the weariness in Alicent’s eyes. She had once fought battles like yours and lost.

When the door closed behind you, Alicent turned to her father, her voice barely above a whisper. “Wouldn’t it be easier to marry her to Aegon?”

Otto shook his head, his expression unreadable. He understood what Alicent couldn’t bring herself to admit.

Easier, yes. But more dangerous.

There was something deep within you, a growing ache in your heart that no tale, no scripture, no ancient word of wisdom could ever soothe or shake off. The fire of guilt simmered beneath the surface of your soul, consuming you in its relentless heat. Even though you knew your suffering was nothing compared to the horrors others had faced, you feared—feared with a trembling certainty—that if war descended upon you, it would tear you apart. Not just in body, but in spirit. And where would that leave you? What would become of your heart, your mind, your soul?

Once, the future had been so clear. When you were younger, when Aegon barely noticed you, it was as if the path was already created. Everyone knew you were born to marry him, and there was a certainty in that—a weight that was lighter back then. You had been kind, proper, untouched by the cruel realities of the world around you. But now? Now, you were torn between rival claims, between lovers. It all felt so fickle, as if the life you had lived in the Red Keep was nothing but a distant dream.

You had wasted years trying to inch closer to Alicent, clinging to your faith in the Seven as though it would redeem you, as though it would make you worthy. Faith had consumed you, shaped you, made you believe that if you followed the path laid out by the gods, you would find peace. But peace eluded you now, and even the Seven-Pointed Star that hung heavy around your neck, the same one you wore as a brooch on your chest, could no longer protect you from your own self. In truth, you felt as if only pushed you down.

And whenever you looked at Alicent, it was as if you were staring at a reflection of your own turmoil. Her eyes mirrored your own fears, your own doubts. She had been shaped by duty, by faith, and by the expectations of others; by her father and by her husband’s expectations. In her, you saw what you could become, if you weren’t careful—a woman trapped in the chains of politics and piety, whose heart had been suffocated by the weight of sacrifice.

As you walked inside the Grand Sept, the echoes of your footsteps echoed through the empty space. Your dark green gown, grand and ostentatious, clung to your body, suffocating you in its fine silk and embroidery. It felt like a cage, like chains that bound you to your place in this world—a pawn in the endless game of power. The gods you had once prayed to now felt distant, indifferent to the turmoil swirling in your heart.

The Sept felt colder that day, its vastness more unwelcoming than usual. The chill seeped into your bones, making you feel as though the very grace of the gods was pushing you away, disgusted by your presence. Yet, deep down, you liked to think they had never truly been on your side. Perhaps the gods had forsaken you long before, or perhaps they had never cared for you at all. A bitter thought twisted in your heart—what if you had lived your life faithless, like your mother? Would it have spared you from this constant weight of guilt?

Your mother, so free of the shackles of this, had birthed bastards without shame. Would she regret it now, or had her love for them eclipsed any regrets she might have had? You had always known that she loved them more than she would ever love you. That’s why she had so readily accepted Viserys’ petition to leave you behind in the Red Keep. And even when she fought for you, it hadn’t been enough.

If you could strip it all away—your title, your duty, your faith—you would. You would tear it all from your skin and live as something other than this pawn. But now, it was too late. Too much had been said, too many decisions made. The gods had never offered you a choice. They had only demanded your obedience.

And Helaena—sweet, kind Helaena. How could you ever look into her face again, knowing the truth that gnawed at your soul? You were still in love with her soon-to-be husband, the father of her future children—their children. The thought made you sick with guilt, twisting inside you like a dagger. How could you stand before her, with this secret festering inside you? How could you ever offer her a kind word again, knowing that you longed for what was now hers?

Your hands felt clammy, slick with sweat as you knelt before the stone altar. It was cold, unyielding. Before you, candles flickered, their small flames struggling against the drafts in the Sept. You reached out with trembling fingers, lighting one of the candles. But your mind was blank. No prayer formed on your lips, no words rose from your heart. There was only the hollow silence of your thoughts and the suffocating weight of guilt.

“For everything that comes…” you began softly, a whisper so faint it would be lost unless someone stood right beside you. “Make Viserys’ sayings align with the Andal’s law…”

A chill crept through the Sept, a cold breeze brushing over your uncovered elbows and across your face. You shuddered, closing your eyes, grasping for the comfort of prayer. “Keep us away from our own madness… keep me on your path…”

Your whispered plea hung in the air, fragile and wavering like the flame before you.

“Does it ever help?” The somber voice shattered the silence, startling you. Maelor’s presence, unexpected and intrusive, made you jump, and the delicate flame of your candle extinguished with a soft hiss.

You didn’t turn around. The weight of his voice and the meaning behind his words made you uneasy. You could picture the expression on his face without seeing it—a hyena-like smile, sharp and calculating, masked beneath that smooth charm.

Why had he followed you here?

You reached up again, intent on lighting another candle, even though the act felt futile. The gods felt distant, absent. Rejection was all you could feel in this cold, hollow place.

Before the flame could catch, Maelor’s hand gently caught your arm, his touch soft but firm. He knelt beside you, his presence unsettling yet strangely familiar.

“You fear madness?” His voice, softer than expected, lacked the mockery you had anticipated. It was almost… tender.

You didn’t meet his gaze, eyes fixed on the unlit candle as your chest tightened with frustration. “Don’t you, Maelor?” Your words were sharper than you intended. “The stories—”

“Gods, you sound like Viserys,” he muttered, scrunching his face in mock annoyance. The sudden shift in his expression, the familiar way he said it, broke through the heaviness of the moment. Despite everything, a faint smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

“I think I spent too much time with him when I was younger…” you whispered, your eyes fixed on the flickering candles, their soft light casting shadows on your troubled thoughts. “Aren’t you afraid?”

Maelor’s smile was gentle, though his grip on your arm tightened, an attempt at grounding you. “What can truly happen to us?” His voice, warm and reassuring, echoed through the cold stillness of the Sept. “Sometimes things are bigger than us, yes, but I think we both knew what we were meant to be since we were children. We rarely get to make our own choices, or follow our own desires.”

His words mirrored the ones you’d spoken to Aegon so many times before—reminding him of the weight that came with being the king’s firstborn. When you had said it, it was always with a sharp edge, meant to cut, meant to hurt him.

From Maelor’s lips, it didn’t feel like a reprimand, but a shared burden. He wasn’t the heir, he wasn’t the one with a crown awaiting him, and yet he understood the constraints of being born into power. His words carried no bitterness, just quiet acceptance of a fate neither of you could escape.

You turned your gaze toward him, noticing how the candlelight softened his features, making him seem even more distant from the sharpness of court life.

You couldn’t bring yourself to voice the thoughts clouding your vision.

“I never wanted this for you,” Maelor said softly then, filling the silence.

“It doesn’t matter now… I don’t think it makes a difference,” you replied with a half-hearted smile, trying to mask the turbulence within.

“I know I’ve always been hiding behind Aegon’s shadow—”

You cut him off, the words spilling out before you could fully control them. “I’m sorry for what I said, Maelor. It wasn’t my intention to… offend you.” Your smile faltered into a pout, a gesture of regret that seemed to offer little solace. Maelor’s gaze was heavy with pity, his eyes reflecting a depth of sadness that made you feel even more isolated.

“There’s no need to apologize,” he whispered, his voice carrying a resignation that matched the flicker of the candles ahead. For the first time, his focus shifted away from you, absorbed by the soft, wavering light.

“But I do, of course I do, Maelor,” you insisted, your voice trembling with an urgency that bore a resemblance to his mother’s fervent pleas. “You didn’t deserve to be treated so cruelly… I wasn’t thinking—”

“I’ve always been second, in everything and to everyone. To Aegon. To the crown. To my mother… even if she seldom shows it. And now, to you,” he confessed, his tone devoid of sorrow but carrying a weight that seemed almost indifferent.

His words struck you with a force that was almost physical, like a harsh slap to the face. You had always believed that he was favored, that his place was secure, but Maelor had always lingered in his brother’s shadow, where his errors were forgiven with ease. “That’s not true…” you whispered, struggling to reconcile the depth of his pain with your own perceptions.

A smile crept upon his face as he turned to you again, his eyes glistening with a blend of melancholy and mischief. “You’ve always known where you stand, since we were children. You know where your heart and allegiance lie, and it’s with him.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” you lied, your voice trembling and barely audible against the stone walls of the Grand Sept.

“Don’t lie to me,” he said softly, his hand moving from your arm to gently cup your face. His touch was unexpectedly warm and tender, a stark contrast to the coldness of the stone around you. You felt an involuntary shiver, a deep, unspoken longing stirring within you, urging you to indulge in his embrace.

“It’s no use,” he murmured, his voice a soothing balm against the harsh reality. “Because whatever you want doesn’t really matter now. And it doesn’t change what I want, even though I know my place.”

Your pulse quickened at his words, a surge of heat flooding your insides. Your mind raced, struggling to ground itself in the present moment, both physically and mentally. But it was futile as his thumb gently traced your cheek, a touch so light it felt like a ghost’s caress. The sensation made you want to pull away, to put space between you. Despite your lack of interest in Maelor—he was, after all, Aegon’s twin—an unbidden thought lingered: if you couldn’t have the first, perhaps you could have the second.

“Maelor,” your voice trembled, a whisper caught in the fragile space between you. Words failed you, leaving you paralyzed with uncertainty about what to say.

His face drew even closer, your eyes widening in a mix of apprehension and anticipation. “What can happen to us?” he murmured, his voice sweet and barely audible, the question hanging in the air.

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words emerged. Your mind was tangled in a web of guilt and desire; Maelor’s touch was achingly familiar and inexplicably comforting. His eyes searched yours, not for an answer, but for some sign—any sign—that you wanted him to leave.

His breath was warm against your heated skin, and his lips were tantalizingly close. For a fleeting moment, it felt as though the burdens of your life were lifted, leaving you both enveloped in an equally forbidden and sacred space

In the quiet of words and stares, the gods keep watching.

You closed your eyes, resting your forehead against his. Your heart raced, thudding violently in your chest. You felt as if you were suspended in time, teetering on the brink of something both exhilarating and terrifying. As Maelor’s thumb brushed softly against your lower lip, a shiver ran through you, igniting a warm, electric sensation deep within your core. The restraints of duty and guilt seemed to melt away, replaced by an overwhelming sense of longing.

Forgetting your place, you dared to lower your face, your lips brushing his own with a tentative softness, almost as if testing the waters. But the blood in your veins surged wildly, and the fragile tension between you both shattered in an instant.

He deepened the kiss, his desire unmistakable, and you allowed it, welcomed it. His other hand slid to your waist, pulling you flush against him—and not only did you let him, you crumbled beneath his touch, surrendering to the warmth of his light hold. The desire that had long lain dormant within you stirred, taking form, your fingers instinctively tangling in his auburn hair. Every inch of your body responded to him as though awakened, alive with a hunger you hadn’t realized dwelled so deep.

The world around you seemed to dissolve into shadows, the sacred walls of the Sept now tainted by the weight of your shared desire. The sanctity of this hallowed place stood in stark contrast to the sinful pull between you. The air was thick, heady with a tension that felt both forbidden and intoxicating. Maelor’s hand slid down the curve of your back, his fingers tracing each delicate bone of your spine with agonizing slowness, as if testing how much you could bear before you broke. He drew you even closer, his breath hot and uneven against your skin, as though he, too, was consumed by this fire. His lips ghosted over the hollow of your throat, enough to make your breath stutter in your chest.

“Maelor…” the sound of his name slipped from your lips, nothing more than a trembling whisper, heavy with guilt and need. It sounded like a prayer, a plea. You couldn’t tell if the word was meant to halt him or urge him on, but either way, it left you exposed and vulnerable.

His hands tightened their grip on you, his lips pressing harder against your skin, teeth grazing your collarbone with a sharpness that made you shudder. You could feel yourself coming undone beneath his touch, unraveling like a thread pulled too tight. This wasn’t meant to happen—not here. Not with him.

He kissed the seven-pointed star hanging from your neck. His fingers found the edge of your dress, slowly gathering the fragile fabric, lifting it just enough for his hands to slide beneath and wrap around your naked thighs. The feel of his warm hands, soft and insistent against your bare skin, sent you spiraling. You hadn’t imagined this would ever happen, let alone now, in this place, under the watchful eyes of the gods. And yet, as his hands roamed higher, guilt momentarily dissolved into the air. A choked, breathless moan escaped your lips, betraying your deepest shame, and instinctively, your hands flew to grasp at his clothes, clutching at his waist—not to stop him, but to anchor yourself.

“Maelor…” His name slipped from your lips again, barely more than a sigh, the sound drenched in breathless need. His fingers dug into your flesh. You knew it was wrong—so deeply, impossibly wrong in every sacred sense, yet with each passing second, you found yourself yearning for more. Every touch, every stolen breath, only made you crave the sin even more fiercely, as though the very act of transgression bound you tighter to him.

His hands stilled on your thighs, as though savoring the moment, while his lips found their way back to your neck, pressing softly against your skin. He lingered there, feeling the wild, uneven beat of your pulse beneath his mouth, as though testing just how far you would let him go. Your hands trembled as they clung to him desperately, fingers twisting in his clothes like a lifeline, like you were to combust into nothingness if you let go.

“I–We shouldn’t,” you murmured, but your voice faltered, weak and thin, lacking any true conviction. You knew it, and worse, so did he. Maelor was no fool.

His head tilted slightly, just enough for his breath to tickle your ear, his voice a soft whisper. “Then tell me to stop,” he challenged, his tone thick with temptation.

But the words refused to come out.

They lingered on the edge of your tongue, trapped behind the weight of your own desire. The silence that stretched between you was louder than any confession you could have made. You couldn’t stop him, and in that moment, you realized you didn’t want to.

The moment stretched, suspended in a breathless stillness. His hands slid further beneath the fabric of your dress, inching slowly higher until they reached your waist. There, his fingers caressed your skin with a softness that both quickened your pulse and made your heart race ahead of any coherent thought. The gentle press of his hands against you was enough to make your body ache, silently begging for more. In that suspended moment, your body screamed to surrender, every nerve alight with the need to give in—but your mind, though fragile, still fought desperately to hold on.

Then, in a single heartbeat, when his grip tightened possessively around your waist, the weight of everything you had been ignoring crashed down on you with brutal force.

You pulled back sharply, your breath ragged and uneven. “We can’t… Maelor, we can’t do this,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you forced the distance between you. Shame and desire swirled together in your chest, leaving your skin burning with the memory of his touch, each place his hands had been still aflame. The ache of wanting him, and the guilt that gnawed at your soul, tangled so tightly that you could hardly breathe.

His eyes searched yours, confusion flickering in their depths before he slowly released you, his hands falling to his sides. Yet, despite the distance you’d forced between you, the raw desire in his gaze lingered.

“I—” he began, his voice thick with unspoken words, but you shook your head, cutting him off before he could finish.

“Not here. Not like this.” Your voice wavered, fragile and trembling, each word tasting of heartbreak as it left your lips. The weight of what you were saying felt like it might crush you, but it had to be spoken. “It’s the only thing I have left…” The final words came out as a whisper, laced with pain, as though this last shred of control was all that tethered you to who you once were, and to the vows you had sworn.

— next chapter

a/n part 2: god how i LOVE to yap …. i’m sorry for no aegon in this. i’m thinking so many thoughts right now. i have so much to say… but i feel like nothing’s happening… anyways. and i don’t know how far i want to take this, because i was writing the blood and cheese scene and then i saw crazytom’s art of jaehaera and jaehaerys and i don’t want to kill him… so i don’t know. and also i wrote something of the reader and their dragon bonding but where the hell am i supposed to put that? so maybe i’ll add like an extra scene or something :3 because i thought it was cute.

#aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen angst #house of the dragon #aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen twin

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zedif-y · 1 year

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Joel wakes up screaming.

His first thought, honestly, isn’t very coherent. A mishmash of need more time and a throat-tearing scream escaping him as he opens his eyes to–

His scream dies down. Joel looks around– at least, he thinks he’s looking around. Hard to tell when it’s all pitch black and he can’t see a thing, is he sure his eyes are working–?

Joel brings a hand to his face, “Did I go blind– What the heck!”

His voice comes out shrill, a hair away from a shriek (because no, it wasn’t a shriek, it was all manly and stuff, thank you.) as his hand kind of– it kinda–

He knows where his head is. Obviously. Be a bit weird if he didn’t. He knows where his head is, and he knows where his hand is. Both are important. So when he reached towards his head, right, gotta see if there’s a cloth over his eyes, or if he’s gone blind or whatever stupid thing must’ve happened to him after… After he…

His thoughts go fuzzy for a second, like that feeling you get when you think you’ve forgotten something but can’t remember what. Like knowing the shape of something you’ve lost, its absence so pressing that it chokes you like sand, clogging your lungs with each second it's gone but what the heck is it–?!

Where was he, again?

Oh. Right. He was freaking out.

The point is– because there was a point, right before things got all weird there– his hand went through his head.

It… He doesn’t even know how to explain it. It felt like… Not much, really. Didn’t feel like anything. But that’s the issue with it, the issue of something should be there, like skin and muscle and bone and perhaps even a brain. But instead, Joel put his hand where his face should be and he felt nothing, no matter how hard he tried, how far he reached and pushed and–

Joel wants to scream. Or laugh. Or cry. Either of the three, though preferably not that last one.

It’s so weird. He just wants…

There it is again. That feeling. The clawing, desperate something in his chest that twists and writhes–

“Hey, Joel.”

Joel screams. (First option, then.)

Jimmy just stares at him, unimpressed. His sunglasses are blocking his eyes.

For some reason, it makes Joel want to cry.

Jimmy sighs, “Are you done?” Joel gapes at him.

Are you serious, “Am I d– What the heck, Jimmy?” He snaps, “Don’t sneak up on me like that, I’m not bloody Grian–”

Since when did Jimmy get so quiet, anyway?

“Of course you’re not Grian,” Jimmy says, his voice all weird. Off. “It’d be easier if you were. He’s already moved on.”

Joel’s hackles rise, “What d’you mean it’d be easier?” He snarls, like snapping teeth. “And he hasn’t moved on, he’s just–”

“Looking for new friends?” Jimmy deadpans. Joel’s jaw clicks shut. “ ‘s what I thought.”

Oh, Joel wants to punch him in the–

Wait a second.

It comes back to him then, slamming into him like a wave. The bubbling, helpless laughter in his chest as he leaps and runs across a flimsy dirt bridge. The way he knows he’s fallen before, fallen a million different times and came out both dead and alive but he doesn’t care.

("–you can't keep doing this–")

He doesn’t (didn’t) care, because why should he, he’s got– he’s got water. He’s got water, like everyone else on this blumin’ server, he’ll live, surely, so there’s no need to be scared.

("–got to let go, eventually, right–?")

No need to worry, even as yellow feathers plummet and disappear from view and lightning strikes where Jimmy’s voice cut off–

“Joel!” Jimmy shouts, practically right in his face. “Joel, are you even listening–?”

This, Joel decides, is not Jimmy.

It's got the shape of Jimmy, sure. Right hair and face and everything. Right voice, right bloody curve of his eyebrows, which makes Joel laugh, because it isn't him.

It can't be. It can't be, because Jimmy's dead. Jimmy's gone, he ran out of time because he fell like an idiot so no, this can't be him, there's no way.

On all levels except physical, Joel can't seem to breathe.

There's no way this is Jimmy, he thinks, just the right amount of hysterical. It's just not possible.

Because if this is him, (and that's a big, gigantic if) then that means– That means wherever he went, Joel followed. Joel followed, and now they're in the Void, or Limbo, or whatever the heck it's called, and that means that Joel–

Joel failed Grian, too.

"You're not Jimmy," He says at last, with his not-there tongue and not-there face. His voice sounds distant. "He'd be like, crying. Screamin' about dying first again, going oh my gosh!" Joel tells Not-Jimmy, pitching his voice up and then laughs, laughs, and laughs.

Until he can't breathe. Until it hurts to.

Until it's not much of a laugh at all.

Light shines on Not-Jimmy's sunglasses. He's still the only thing Joel can see.

Joel reaches out, pretending to see two, shaking hands grab Jimmy by the shoulders. He pretends, thinks about it hard enough that he almost feels the texture of Jimmy's denim under his palms. He thinks, imagines, pretends, whatever, that the fabric crinkles under his touch, that the sob that makes his way past his lips is a laugh as he says, "I'm sorry."

Something wet trickles down his not-there face.

" 'm sorry, Jim," Joel rasps out, and it hurts. "You weren't supposed to– I had a surprise for you, you know?"

Jimmy's voice is quiet, "What kind of surprise?" He asks, and Joel…

Joel thinks he might be falling apart.

(Or maybe, his mind supplies, he shattered a long while ago. Like glass hitting the floor.)

He grins, or at least, he tries to. "I was gonna break your curse," He confesses, with his terrible, trembling mouth. "I was gonna sacrifice myself for you, be all heroic and everything."

Jimmy says nothing. Joel still can't see his eyes.

"I'm sorry."

He's getting tired of pretending.

"Will you come with me now?" Jimmy– Not-Jimmy says, his voice ringing like the toll of a bell. "You've said your piece, not many are afforded that luxury."

Joel blinks. Death stands before him, no sunglasses to cover empty sockets.

For a moment, Joel considers fighting. Again, and again, and again.

But he is so, very tired.

He sighs.

I don't feel very lucky, Joel wants to say. And you still aren't Jimmy.

"Whatever," He says instead. He feels his entire being slip away like sand, like time held tightly between two fists. "Take me away, or whatever it is you do."

Joel closes his eyes, "I'll tell him when I see him."

#ryan's writing #joel smallishbeans #smallishbeans #jimmy solidarity #solidaritygaming #solidarity gaming #trafficblr #limited life #limited life spoilers #limited life smp #limlife #limlife smp #limlife spoilers #the bad boys #limlife bad boys #smallidarity #<<can be read as romantic or platonic methinks #also! this is my first time writing joel properly :D so i hope its good!#anyway. explodes

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samkerrworshipper · 1 year

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two’s a company, three’s a crowd | alexia putellas x reader x lucy bronze

warnings: heavy smut, cunnilingus, fingering, sex toys, 18+ minors DNI

6000 words that y’all have been begging for and full disclaimer i have written this at 4am on a red bull high so sorry if it isn’t completely coherent xoxo

“Remember what I promised you?”

I was kneeling on the floor beside our bed, a blindfold over my face.

“I’d get a reward if I was a good girl, ma’am.”

I kept my head bowed, facing what I assumed was our floor boards, but I couldn’t tell you for sure because I couldn’t see.

“Do you think you were a good girl?”

I gulped soundly, it could be a trick question, an attempt to catch me out, or prove me wrong. Or it could be a legitimate question, it was a 50/50 chance.

“I tried my hardest ma’am, I think I was good.”

My words held some uncertainty, but not enough for it to be detected, a perfect balance of confidence and self consciousness.

“I think so too, enough that I think you deserve your reward.”

I perked up a little bit at the words, my knees were starting to get sore from the floorboards so anything to get me up off them would be better than this.

“If you think so, ma’am.”

I felt a hand tugging at my scalp, a change from the complete nothingness I’d felt for a while now, it had me jolting in my position, slightly shocked by the contact.

My head was tugged backwards, no longer facing what I assumed was the floor. Tilting it back as far as I could go so I was now assumedly looking at the roof.

“I think so, I think you’ll need to see to properly have this reward though.”

My curiosity was growing by the minute, I was silently becoming more desperate by the second to discover what exactly she was referencing.

I blinked furiously as the silk blindfold was tugged down, so it was pooling around my neck. It took my eyes a few seconds to adjust to the sudden light, but once they did I could make out Alexia, who was standing directly above me, her eyes and eyebrows quirked just a little bit, in that cheeky way she did when she was up to something.

“Give our guest a proper welcome.”

My eyes snapped away from Alexia’s, searching around the room before spotting the intruder that Alexia had been referencing, sitting on the armchair in the corner of the room.

“L-Lucy?”

The lights in our room were dimmed but I was fairly certain that it was her, Alexia’s mind never ceased to amaze me. I suddenly felt very self conscious, my hands going to whatever parts of my naked body that they could cover. They weren’t there for long though, Alexia’s hands slapping at them very quickly.

“No being shy, if tonight goes how I planned Lucia will be seeing far more of you.”

My spine shuddered, so this really was what I had been thinking.

“Do you want that? Do you want to be a good girl for Lucia and I?”

I nodded frantically at Alexia, leaving absolutely zero room for doubt in my actions.

Alexia smirked down at me, she knew me so well, knew exactly how to turn me into putty in her hands. We’d talked about this, casually, her asking me over breakfast one morning if the situation arose I’d be comfortable with bringing someone else in. Initially I’d choked on my tea, and then I’d told her I was very open to the idea, that if it was what she wanted I would definitely be down for it, I just hadn’t expected so soon, or with Lucy. If I was being honest I’d assumed if anyone would ever join Alexia it would be Mapi, just because of the close relationship we had and the fact that I knew her and Ingrid weren’t opposed to sharing.

“I’ll be good for you.”

Alexia smiled at me and nodded.

“I know you will baby. Why don’t you show Lucy how good you can be for her? Show her just how perfect you are, Musetrale lo buena que puedes ser para mi?”

I nodded at Ale, I found it funny that of all the people she would bring she chose Lucy. The girl was lovely, an absolute golden retriever of a human being who was always putting smiles on our faces at training. The underlying feeling that I had though was that Ale had a reason, Lucy was obsessed with proving that she respected Ale and I was fairly sure she’d bend over backwards if Alexia asked. She in her own right though was a dominant person, she wasn’t a person to give up control and I couldn’t shake the feeling that she would give it up easily, even to Alexia.

“Lucia, get on the edge of the bed and take your trousers off, you are far too dressed for this occasion.”

Lucy nodded obediently, pulling her trousers off as she stumbled towards the edge of the bed. Fumbling her trousers off and slinging them onto the seat she had previously occupied, leaving her in a plain pair of black boxer shorts. She seated herself on the edge of the bed as Alexia had requested, waiting restlessly on the edge, clearly waiting for something to happen.

“Come on then, don’t leave our guest waiting.”

I nodded at Alexia, extending my hands out in front of me and crawling over towards Lucy, revelling in the way her eyes crawled up and down my body as I moved towards her. There was something so sensual about someone looking you up and down, something so perfect about having your body be appreciated and wanted, Lucy was looking at me like I was a fucking dessert for her to eat and I loved absolutely every single second of it. The way she watched my tits hanging down from my body frame as the moved back and forth as I crawled towards her, and the sight of her eyes travelling down to my ass was purely magical.

When I did make my way to Lucy I kneeled directly in front of her, letting her part her legs on either side of me, leaving my face directly in front of her sex.

“Can I eat her out please, ma’am?”

I could hear Alexia walking around behind us, but I knew better than to avert my attention from Lucy, keeping my hooded eyes focused on hers.

“Ask Lucia baby, she’s your treat for tonight.”

Alexia was the only person who got away with calling Lucy that, the only person Lucy respected enough to let it slide, she used it to her advantage as much as possible. I knew she was using it in this forum to get one message across, that even if she was hanging over the reigns to Lucy, she had a form of control, a form of power that Lucy didn’t and she was conveying that with her words.

“Can I eat you out please, Luce?”

Lucy smirked at my question, I could feel the nerves thrumming through her body. She was so confident but you could tell that she just wasn’t feeling that in this environment, her foot tapping ever so slightly against the floorboards.

“I would love nothing more, if La Reina is okay with it.”

Lucy’s eyes rose anxiously to Alexia, she was very clearly trying to figure out how this situation worked, I assumed Alexia would have given her a small debrief before this but I didn’t know for sure, as far as I knew Alexia could have texted Lucy half an hour ago and told her to come over. Lucy was cautious of Alexia, the use of her full first name putting her on her toes, just like I knew Alexia had intended to do.

The last few hours had been a complete blur to me, we’d played this afternoon, an earlier game at 1pm. After that I’d kind of dropped into my headspace, Alexia had sensed it. Once we’d gotten home she’d fed me and then with my consent she’d blindfolded me and kneeled me down on the floor for a while, letting me think properly for the first time in a few weeks. She knew my body better than I did, could sense when I needed her the most, today was one of those days and nothing felt better than her understanding that need.

“Go ahead cariño, show Lucia how good you can be.”

Her words were enough permission for me, I scooted myself further across the floorboards, so my face was practically pressed against Lucy’s boxers. I reached my hands up, so they were secured on the waist band, she lifted her ass up from the bed, giving me room to pull them down and off of her. The first thing I was faced with when I looked back up was Lucy’s fucking beautiful cunt, staring right at me. As Lucy’s thighs fell over my shoulders I was put millimetres away from Lucy’s glistening pussy. Lucy ever so respectfully inched her way down to my face, and as soon as I snapped myself out of my almost sex induced haze I was diving in.

The hunger that overcame me was immense. I kissed my way up and down Lucy’s slit, as much as I wanted to dive in I also wanted to not be greedy or rushed about it. I slowly slid my tongue up and down, parting her folds in the process and exploring her with so much care. I toyed around with Lucy’s entrance and sensitive nub, taking my time in carefully swirling my tongue around the ever so sensitive areas and relishing in the moans that were falling freely from her lips. Lucy slowly started to become more comfortable in the situation and started very gently to hump my face. When I decided she was being too gentle my hands came up to her thighs, digging into the skin and forcing her down further on my face, allowing me to apply more pressure to her.

I ate her out with passion, the way that Ale had taught me. I lapped at Lucy’s waiting cunt, she was practically throbbing against me and I revelled in the feeling of having her juices drip down my face and down onto my bare neck and the blindfold that was now a forgotten article, hanging loosely around my neck. She was fucking delicious and I took advantage off it, slurping up her juices and swallowing it all down. I continued my exploring, experimenting with different pressures and speeds, slowly discovering what forced the sinfully spectacular groans to fall from Lucy’s mouth. I very quickly discovered that her clit was extremely sensitive, any slight touch to it resulting in a set of specific expletives leaving her lips. I honed in on that, working tirelessly at swirling my tongue around her clit and when her thighs started to clench I started to nibble on it slightly, the small bursts of pressure doing wonders for her.

“Fuck, mm, fuck, such a good girl y/n, gonna make me cum.”

I smirked into Lucy’s clit when the grunts left her mouth, they were hardly words though, muffled by Lucy’s own moans and Alexia’s voice in the background, which I couldn’t fully understand in my sex driven haze.

I worked hard at Lucy’s clit, sucking on it and then dipping down to eat her out every once in a while. I pushed my tongue into her pussy and feeling her sex clench against my tongue as she got closer. I began to alternate, sucking hard on Lucy’s clit and then going down further, licking softly at her pussy. It was the perfect combination of soft and hard and it had Lucy’s thighs shaking on top of my shoulders.

“Fuck, so good y/n/n, so fucking good, I’m going to cum, going to cum.”

As soon as the words left her mouth I sucked down hard on her clit, digging my lips and teeth in.

“Cum, Lucia, cum all over our sluts face.”

Ale’s voice was strong, directly spoken in my ear and it was probably enough to make me cum there on the spot, but I didn’t, too focused on Lucy’s body to care about my own. I moaned against her pussy as I felt her clench and come undone. Her thighs shook like a tree in the wind as the orgasm wracked her body. I continued my licks, softening them and flattening my tongue against her slit, licking up every single drip that was released from her pussy as she came down from her high. It was euphoric, feeling Lucy’s salty and sweet liquid gold on my tongue was a different form of special that I couldn’t even explain.

Eventually, once Lucy’s legs had stopped shaking she lifted herself off of me, revealing my face to her, which was covered in her juices. It was then that I spotted Alexia standing over me, her lips kiss swollen and Lucy’s neck adorned with a few developing love bites that I could only assume were accredited to Alexia. She smirked down at me before leaning down to kiss me, licking at the taste of Lucy and getting as it off of my face as she could.

“Such a good girl for Lucia, I think it’s about time we give you some attention, hm?”

I nodded frantically at Alexia, getting Lucy off had a drug like effect on me and I was now in a drugged up sex haze.

“Please.”

Alexia smirked at my pleading and nodded at me.

“I think Lucia is a little bit overdressed for the occasion, how about you help her out?”

I nodded at Alexia, her word was gospel to me and if she wanted me to do something I would do it. She reached her hands out to me and I took them, my legs had gone practically numb from kneeling for so long so her support was well appreciated. My legs wobbled for a few seconds whilst I regained the sensation in my legs. Once the sensation was regained I turned to Lucy, who still seemed to be coming back from her mind shattering orgasm.

I closed the distance between us, seating myself down on the edge of the bed beside her and putting my hands to work immediately. I’d bared her bottom half so I busied myself with unbuttoning her blouse, taking my time with each individual button. The top buttons were already done, courtesy to Alexia who had left a litter of love bites along Lucy’s collar line that were going to be a pain to hide tomorrow for training. It made me smirk slightly.

Lucy, very clearly having regained her energy, got bored waiting for me to unbutton her blouse, and busied herself with leaving some matching marks along my own collarbone. I let her go, I wasn’t training tomorrow anyways, I’d been told to take the day off because of a minor head collision that I’d had during the game, it was pure precaution but I was grateful to have a lie in regardless, fairly happy to miss out on the morning recovery and gym session when I could be cuddled up in bed with Ale and I’s cat and dog.

Once I finally finished with her blouse I threw it across the floor of Ale and I’s room, leaving it with the pile of clothes that had collected on our armchair in the corner. I then moved onto Lucy’s bra, reaching behind her back and unclasping it, smirking as she bit down particularly hard as I pulled the bra from her body.

I let her leave her marks for a little while, sitting back on the bed, Alexia joining us both and joining Lucy at my neck, the both of them occupying themselves with marking me. I couldn’t help but feel the competitive energy between them, they were both dominant individuals in their own right. Alexia was possessive over me as my girlfriend, but so was Lucy on a friend level. Her, Keira and I made up the ‘Spanglish’ trio at Barca and we were practically inseparable, so Lucy was highly protective of me in that way, she had been since we were kids.

“Please.”

Lucy smirked into her spot onto my collarbone, I wasn’t a full on moaning mess yet but I was starting to get worked up but I wanted more.

Lucy picked her head up out of my neck and looked up at me.

“What do you want?”

Lucy looked at Alexia, checking it was all okay and when she got the confirmation there was nothing wrong with her actions she looked back at me.

“More.”

Lucy nodded at me, but she didn’t progress any more.

“Use your words, bebita.” (baby)

I groaned as Alexia’s mouth found it’s way to my pulse point, sucking down deeply on the point and then withdrawing completely.

I whimpered at the lack of contact, my eyes snapping open to look at the two women. The back of Alexia’s palm came down onto the inside of my thigh, without warning, leaving me to yelp out of surprise.

“Lucia asked you to do something, puta (slut), listen to her or we’re going to find ourselves in a very different situation, comprendida?” (Understood?)

I nodded quickly at Alexia, desperate for more attention, desperate for both of their lips to return to my body.

“Si entiendo, lo siento. Please, my pussy.” (Yes, I understand, I’m sorry)

Lucy smirked at me, they were playing coy, toying with me until I broke, it was a game that Ale loved to play and she knew it drove me insane.

“Does your perfect little pussy want some attention? Does it feel all forgotten right now? Are we not giving you enough attention?”

Alexia’s lips returned to my neck, dipping a little bit lower and navigating their way down across my chest. I kept my eyes on Lucy, silently pleading with her to please, give my fucking throbbing pussy some attention, before it fucking imploded below me.

“Please, fuck, Please.”

Lucy licked her lips, it was clear she was gaining enjoyment from riling me up and I couldn’t find it in me to despise her for it, I was just so fucking desperate.

“Mm, Ale do you think she deserves it?”

Ale’s head rose from my chest once again, her lips were swollen and tinged slightly redder than normal.

“I’m not sure, we did promise her some attention if she treated you well, but she can wait longer if we want her to. It’s up to you, she did play so well considering though, and we have been riling her up.”

It was clear Ale was enjoying being the backseat driver for this scene, she always had to have control, always had to be in charge. She loved it but a part of me also knew that she probably didn’t mind taking the passenger seat for a lapse in time, letting Lucy take the reins whilst she took in the moment.

“Mm, what do you want bebita?”

I gulped, moaning at the feeling of Alexia wrapping her tongue around my nipple, the sensation sending shocks throughout my whole body.

“Anything, hands, mouth, please, just anything.”

I was laying the desperation on thick, letting my barriers down to express the pure yearning I had for something, anything to just fucking touch me.

“Alright, I think we can do something about that, hm?”

I nodded at Lucy and moaned as her hand snaked its way down my chest, travelling down the flat surface of my stomach and then the hips. Before I knew it her hand was dipping down below my knees and I was a mess, as soon as a single digit made its way through my folds.

“You're so wet, bebita, we’ve hardly touched you and you're dripping all over the sheets.”

Lucy’s words were just encouragement for me, just another factor in my pleasure. Ale was smirking from her spot against my breasts, fiddling with one of my nipples between her fingers and biting on the other one whilst Lucy explored my cunt with just her finger.

It didn’t take long for the digit to be pushed into my hole. It slid in with ease, my hole adjusting to Lucy’s lone finger fairly quickly.

She worked her way in, knuckle by knuckle, even though she didn’t have to. Moving her finger at a snail like pace, her thumb rubbing lazily against my clit. I needed more, more friction, more movement, more anything. I pushed my hips down against her hand, but almost as soon as I did her hands were off of me.

“If you can’t be patient then your pretty little pussy isn’t getting any attention, comprendida bebita?”

I nodded quickly back at Lucy, any contact was good, anything.

I moaned sinfully as her hands returned to my body, not objecting as Alexia pushed my body backwards against the sheets, so that I was lying down and the two older women were towering over me on the bed, the both of them busying themselves with their self assigned jobs.

I spread my legs for Lucy, allowing her proper access to my body as I focus on Ale’s lips and fingers against my skin, adorning my body with little touches and marks, my senses were heightened from her actions, guaranteeing any touch from Lucy to elicit a fairly filthy moan to leave my mouth.

She kept her movements fairly measured and vague, dipping her finger in every once in a while, otherwise toying with my clit very gently or just working her fingers through my wetness.

It was driving me positively insane and I didn’t know how much more of the little touches and gentleness I could handle, my brain's wiring starting to slowly come undone at the hands of my teammates.

“Please, please, more.”

The words were murmured out between moans, I was becoming a complete mess with the little touches and I hated it, I hated it because all I wanted was to be fucked hard and fast, unforgivingly and the softness of their actions was driving me fucking insane. I was fairly sure they knew it, Alexia could practically read my mind, she had to know that I wanted more, that I was craving more, craving the feeling of being fucked out of my fucking mind.

“Is this not enough for you?”

Lucy’s voice was so fucking condescending, it was driving me insane in all of the best ways.

“Just please more, mas por favor, mas por favor, Luce.” (more please, more please)

I watched contemplation make its way across Lucy’s face, she was clearly deep in thought, planning her next move very carefully.

“Okay bebita, I’ll give you more.”

I didn’t have time to think about her answer, the feeling of two more of her fingers stretching out my hole being enough to have me keeling over in pleasure. It was the perfect, stretch, faster. Everything that I wanted and the feeling of Lucy’s fingers curling perfectly against that spot, was so good that I almost saw stars as soon as she brushed over it.

She kept going at a fairly rigorous pace, slowly edging me towards the line of pure pleasure and it was good. The feeling of Alexia’s teeth grazing my upper body mixed with the combination of Lucy’s actions was euphoric to me, completely addictive.

“Fuck, Luce so good, so fucking good.”

The feeling of her fingertips, slightly coarse from the callouses developed over the years, brushing up against my g-spot was inexplicable, making every single inch of my body warm with pleasure.

“Mm, you going to cum bebita, show us how good you can be?”

Her words were enough to send another set of shocks out across my body, my thighs starting to tremble on either side of Lucy.

“Please, can I cum, please, fuck.”

Alexia lifted her head from my chest, looking at me inquisitively.

“No.”

“She’s been a good girl, Reina.”

Alexia shook her head again, my body having an internal battle as the two women looked between each other and then back down at me.

“Please, Ale, fuck, please.”

Lucy’s hand was still pumping furiously inside of me as the two women stared at each other, both of them wearing similar expressions of stubbornness.

“She can wait, quieres correrte puta?” (do you want to come, slut?)

I nodded furiously at Ale, I was teetering right on the edge of orgasm and I didn’t think I could last much longer, my self control slowly slipping away as Lucy worked at my pussy tirelessly.

“Joder, por favor Ale, por favor.” (Fuck, please Ale, please)

Ale shook her head at me, but in contrast Lucy nodded at me, it was messing with my head, the two of them obviously disagreeing on the topic.

“Lucia, aquí no mandas tu, soy yo. Si quieres usar el juguete con ella más tarde te portarás bien.” (Lucia, you’re not in charge here, I am. If you want to use the toy on her later than you will behave)

Alexia’s Spanish was aggressive and spoken fast enough that I couldn’t understand it properly. Lucy’s Spanish was better than mine, Ale had tried her hardest to teach me in the few months that I’d been here and the years that we’d been dating but I was horrible at learning a new language, Lucy was less shocking then I was and I knew by her facial expression that she understood most, if not all of what Ale was saying to her.

All of a sudden Lucy’s hand was withdrawing itself from my heat, the two women arguing furiously in Spanish above me.

“Me prometiste.” (You promised.)

Ale glared at Lucy before starting a flurry of Spanish that I didn’t even try to translate.

“Estás discutiendo conmigo, Lucia? Quieres siquiera estar aquí? Tal vez deberías irte a casa.”

(Are you arguing with me Lucia? Do you want to be here? Continue and you can go home)

I was no longer being touched, no longer had the attention on me, the two women on top of me completely wrapped up in their fight for dominance to care about my pleasure that I’d been so close to reaching. It annoyed me, listening to the two of them go back and forth in a language that I couldn’t understand. I was fairly certain that Lucy didn’t even fully understand everything Alexia was saying to her, but based on her tone of voice and some of the words she must have been piecing it together.

I watched, slightly annoyed, as the two bit back at each other. It was malicious and boring for me, who had no idea what they were saying and I was honestly to horny to care.

I couldn’t help but let my hand slide down the inside of my thigh, now forgotten by Lucy. If they weren’t going to give me attention I’d give it to myself.

My hand only made it as far as my clit though before it was very quickly snatched by Alexia, her quick reflexes coming into play, one of her hands grabbing my hand that was between my thighs and the other hand coming down on my thigh in a resounding slap.

“Maldita zorra, realmente no puedes esperar, verdad? Entonces jodidamente impaciente. Te arrepentirás.” (Fucking slut, you really can’t wait can you? So fucking impatient, You’re going to regret that.)

I understood those words and they made my core shiver.

Alexia made quick work of finding my other hand, pulling the forgotten blindfold over my head. It was still slightly damp with Lucy’s juices, Alexia brought my two wrists together above my head and used the once blindfold to secure them together, so they were bound above my head, resting on the pillows behind me.

“I think it’s about time we give you what you want, hm, you're so impatient today, so needy to be filled. What do you want, tell me slut.”

Alexia’s hand was grasping my chin now and it was all becoming too much for me, my brain overstimulating itself from the sudden attention.

“Por favor, fóllame.” (Please, just fuck me.)

Alexia smirked at my pleading, she loved it when I spoke Spanish to her, I think she was a little bit proud of me when I did.

“Is that what you want, for me or Lucia to use the strap on you, stuff you full?”

I nodded furiously at Alexia, as much as I could with the grip she had on my chin.

“Si, please Luce, fill me up?”

Lucy’s jaw almost dropped to the floor at my words, I could tell she was trying her hardest to keep herself composed but my words had gotten to her.

“Second draw, of the dresser, Lucia.”

Lucy was up off the bed almost immediately, Ale busying herself with one of my nipples, rubbing the little nub in between her two fingers, toying with it in a painfully sensitive way whilst pressing gentle kisses along my jawline.

In what I was certain was record time Lucy had returned to the bed, this time with Alexia’s favourite strap fastened across her hips. I wished I could take a mental picture of Lucy kneeling in between my legs, Alexia and I’s favourite dildo hanging securely between her legs.

“I think you’ve prepped her enough with your fingers, she’s soaked so you shouldn’t need lube.”

Alexia nodded at Lucy reassuringly, any past argument and tension between the two now dismissed by the overall theme of giving me pleasure.

The feeling of the tip of the dildo pushing through my folds was enough to have my back arching against the bed. Alexia’s lips on my jaw long forgotten as Lucy oh so gently pushed into my entrance. It was pure ecstasy, illicit moans leaving my mouth as she pushed the length of the cock into my cunt, my pussy devouring every inch until Lucy’s hips were pressed against my own. She sat like that for a few seconds, letting me adjust to the intrusion before starting to rock back and forth. My hips met hers on every single thrust, my body pushing itself down against her to try and get as much off the dildo crammed into me as I could.

Lucy was leaning over me, Ale��s lips leaving my body to meet Lucy’s, the two of them meeting in a teeth clashing kiss, the both of them fighting for dominance in the kiss whilst Lucy continued to push into me at a unrelenting pace, it was so fucking good, the sex equivalent to drugs. I was practically incoherent, moans and half words leaving my mouth as Lucy pounded into me.

“Ale, please can I cum, por favor.”

Alexia removed her lips from Lucy’s for long enough to speak to me.

“Cum, cum cãrino, once you start though you aren’t stopping until Lucia and I are done, comprendida?”

I didn’t even need to listen to the second half of Ale’s words, my body already spasming as my orgasm washed over me. My vision went black and my eyes rolled into the back of my head as everything blurred and everything mellowed out for a few seconds as I bathed in the post orgasmic bliss. Then, suddenly, it all came crashing back down on me, the feeling of Lucy still pounding into my now very sensitive pussy was too much, too much feeling, too much pleasure, too much everything and I could feel the tears springing to my eyes.

“No más, No más.”

Ale looked down at me, smirking slightly as the tears leaked from my eyes. I was so over stimulated, I could feel absolutely everything, my senses heightened beyond anything I was used to all a sudden.

“One more bebita, give us one more, I know you can do it cãrino, let go for us.”

The mixture of Ale’s words and Lucy pressing a soft kiss to my breast was enough to send me over the edge for a second time, my body trembling uncontrollably with the aftershocks as I blacked out completely from the mixture of pleasure and dull pain. I went limp against our sheets, my body completely done and tired from the actions of the night.

I felt Lucy slowly ease out of me and Ale getting up from the mattress beside me, I mewled slightly at the abrupt complete loss of contact but relaxed when I felt Lucy’s toned body slide in beside me, pulling the covers of the bed over the two of us and bringing my head up to her chest. I kept my eyes closed, still shaking from my orgasm. Lucy unwrapped my hands from their bonds ever so gently, rubbing at the place that the silk had been before guiding them to her stomach, resting my hands against her stomach, letting me gently draw circles against the surface of her skin. Lucy moved onto gently running her hands through my hair, combing out any knots that had come from our activities, her hands ever so carefully working their way through my tresses, using the perfect amount of pressure to tug at the lengths but not tugging hard enough to hurt. She worked gently at my scalp, her hands massaging my skin.

It wasn’t long before Ale returned to us, sliding in on the other side of me, one of her hands making it’s way to my bicep, gently rubbing the skin with her hands, letting her hand press in just enough for me to find comfort in the action.

I opened my eyes slightly when she pressed down on my bicep hard enough to get my attention. She waved a water bottle in my direction and I understood the memo. I sat myself up a little bit against Lucy, my whole body practically leaning against her. Ale handed me a bottle and then moved on to pressing on into Lucy’s palm, ordering me to drink and me not having the energy to say no to her. The water felt good going in, cooling my now slightly sore throat.

“How’s the head, mi amor?”

There was worry laced between Alexia’s eyebrow as she looked my body up and down, looking for any signs that I was anything but okay. She was always worrying about me, especially when I got injured.

“Fine, a little bit sore but okay.”

Alexia nodded at me, leaning over to press a gentle kiss to my forehead before turning her head in Lucy’s direction.

“Lucia Roberta, drink some water.”

Lucy perked up at Alexia’s words, opening her drink bottle dutifully and taking a few sips before placing it on the bedside table next to her. Alexia rolled her eyes at Lucy but didn’t push it, wrapping an arm around my torso and relaxing against my body.

“How was it amar, everything you wanted?”

I nodded against Alexia, from my spot sandwiched in between her chest and Lucy’s.

“It was fucking perfect.”

Alexia smirked at my words.

“How about you Lucia?”

I felt Lucy inhale from her spot above me, the woman leaning down to press a kiss to both Alexia and I’s cheeks before replying.

“Words couldn’t describe.”

I snorted into Lucy’s chest, finding solace in the warmth of the two bodies I was in between, everything feeling so perfect and right in that moment.

“Get some sleep you two, you both deserve it after how perfect you were on the field.”

I smiled into Alexia’s chest, unable to suppress the eyeroll at her way of bringing her captaining into the fucking bedroom.

“Love you Ale, Love you Luce.”

I relaxed into the two bodies beside them. We would talk about how it had come about in the morning, talk about doing this again, I was sure of it. For now though, I was happy lying between the two women, willing to let my body loosen up and relax in the safety of the two women's arms.

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