#tree chained to clock

[4integer]

Can you draw Tree chained to Clock?

YES! YES! One million times YES !

I have been waiting for this ask, I got so excited when I got it, I was leaping for joy. Your passion is beautiful I’m so serious

[silently-standingstill]

can you draw tree chained to clock

i put them together and realized I could chain them

[tree-chained-to-clock-lover]

Who chained them in the first place

It's similar to how Tree got stuck in Bottle or Clock randomly dying in BFB; we just don't know. It happened, but the reasons are unclear, they're stuck together and have to tolerate it.

[lotostar]

Can you draw Tree chained to Clock?

r.i.p. clock

[shapard]

Tantrum🕷️

Satan x Succubus!fem!reader

Tw: Smut, slow burn, therapist x client, Satan being Satan to the low life, p in v

6k

Satan is so Hot

Part 1 > Part 2

The story begins after the cut

You exhaled slowly, your breath shaky as your eyes scanned the list of today's clients. One name stood out like a drop of blood on pristine parchment: Satan. Yes, the Satan. You’d laughed when the receptionist first told you. Surely, it was some dark joke, right? But the chilling sincerity in her eyes told you otherwise. For the next month, the King of Wrath himself would be your client. His personal therapist—or "anger coach," as they called it—was conveniently on vacation, leaving the responsibility to you.

Your fingers hovered over the file, tapping lightly on the thick paper. His profile was sparse yet enough to send a chill down your spine. Anger issues. As if that needed to be stated. Brutal, cruel, unpredictable. Lies often. Has a dangerously short temper. And the last line, hastily scrawled like a warning, stood out the most: Approach with caution.

The note on your pad detailed when and where you were to meet him: Satan’s castle. Even the thought of it made your stomach churn. The clock on your desk screeched, breaking your trance. It was time.

Your palms were clammy as you left your room, dread curling around your spine. The limousine waiting outside was overkill, with its glossy black finish and an interior too luxurious for comfort. You sank into the seat, but even its plush softness couldn’t ease the knot tightening in your chest. Your fingers toyed nervously with the fabric of your shirt. "Why am I doing this to myself?" you muttered, your voice a hoarse whisper.

The drive stretched on, the limousine cutting through a landscape that seemed to grow darker, more twisted with every passing mile. Gnarled trees loomed like skeletal hands, their shadows dancing over the cracked road. The closer you got to his estate, the more oppressive the air became, thick with heat and a faint metallic tang that clung to your throat. When the car finally stopped, your breath hitched.

The castle loomed above you like a blackened wound carved into the earth itself. Jagged spires clawed at the sky, and the air was heavy with the faint stench of sulfur. The gates creaked open, revealing a procession of imps scurrying about with feverish purpose. Their glowing eyes briefly landed on you before darting away, like vermin avoiding a predator.

You swallowed hard, stepping out of the limousine. The ground beneath your sneakers radiated an uncomfortable heat, as if the very earth resented your presence. You hesitated, looking up at the fortress before you. Every instinct screamed for you to run. But you were a therapist—for Lucifer’s sake, you’d dealt with impossible clients before. Just not ones who could incinerate you with a single breath.

A small, hunched imp dressed in a tattered butler’s uniform approached, its head bowed. Without a word, it gestured for you to follow. You obliged, your legs moving stiffly as if weighed down by chains. The castle’s interior was worse. Shadows seemed alive, twisting and curling around corners like smoke. The halls were cavernous and eerily silent, save for the echo of your footsteps against the stone floor.

You were led through corridors that gleamed with wealth. Gold littered every surface, accompanied by piles of glittering jewels—rubies, diamonds, and sapphires, carelessly heaped as if they were nothing more than pocket change. It was suffocating in its opulence, but it was the odd details that unsettled you. A scorch mark on the wall, as if something—or someone—had been obliterated there. Deep claw marks gouged into the stone.

When you entered his chamber, the atmosphere shifted entirely. Heat rolled over you in waves, and the room smelled faintly of ash. Your eyes roamed over the space, catching glimpses of heavy iron chains, monstrous workout equipment, and a hulking throne that seemed carved from molten rock. And then, your gaze rose.

He was there.

The dragon loomed in the far corner, a creature of pure, terrifying majesty. His scales shimmered like molten obsidian, and his horns, wickedly curved and sharp, glinted faintly in the dim light. His golden eyes burned like twin suns, locking onto you with an intensity that made your stomach drop. His chest rose and fell with a deep, growling breath that reverberated through the floor.

"So," he rumbled, his voice a deep, guttural drawl that made the air vibrate. "You’re the replacement.”

You froze, your body rigid as his gaze raked over you. His tone dripped with disdain, his lips curling into something between a snarl and a smirk. You felt like a mouse under the eye of a serpent.

“A succubus?” he sneered, the word laced with contempt. His massive frame shifted as he lowered his head, bringing his razor-sharp teeth dangerously close to your trembling form. His eyes narrowed, a flicker of amusement dancing in their molten depths. “For a succubus, you look... innocent.”

You flinched as his claw moved, its sharp tip hooking under the edge of your buttoned shirt. With terrifying ease, he pulled you closer, the heat radiating from him suffocating.

“Sir,” you managed, your voice wavering as you fought to hold your ground, “this is… inappropriate.”

The dragon chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Inappropriate?” he repeated, his tone mockingly sweet. “Oh, little one, we’re far beyond ‘appropriate’ here.”

For a moment, the tension was unbearable, his golden gaze locking onto yours, unyielding and searing. Then, with a huff, he released you, his massive claw retracting as he settled back.

“Let’s see how long you last,” he muttered, his voice laced with dark amusement. “They always break, you know.”

Your knees felt weak, your breath shallow as you took a hesitant step back. This wasn’t going to be like any other client you’d dealt with. And as his gaze lingered on you, predatory and calculating, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were stepping into a game you didn’t fully understand—a game where the rules were written in blood.

“Let’s start with something simple—an introduction.” You tried to project confidence, raising your voice slightly to ensure he could hear you clearly. The weight of his molten gaze bore down on you, but you kept your posture straight. “Before we can trust each other, we need to know each other.”

Your words hung in the air, daring to challenge the suffocating silence. His golden eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his reptilian features. You forced a smile and continued, your voice steady despite the thrum of fear in your chest. “My name is Y/n L/n. I’ll be your therapist for the time being. In my spare time, I enjoy drawing. Now, would you care to introduce yourself?”

The room seemed to grow hotter. A deep huff escaped from Satan’s nostrils, the force of his breath stirring the papers on your clipboard. His head tilted ever so slightly, as though studying you from a new angle. “You know who I am.” His words were low and blunt, carrying the faintest edge of impatience.

You kept your expression neutral, though your heart thudded painfully in your chest. “Of course, I know. But I’d like to hear it from you.” Your tone was calm, measured, even as the edges of his form seemed to ripple with heat.

That caught him off guard. His brows furrowed, and for a moment, his eyes lost some of their predatory sharpness. His breathing, which had been fiery and erratic, grew slower, more controlled. “I am Satan,” he said at last, his voice still low but tinged with pride. “The Sin of Wrath. The first sin.”

You didn’t flinch, though the words carried a weight that pressed against you. Liar. The truth was well-known—Lucifer was the first. But you kept that observation to yourself, instead lowering your gaze to jot something down on your notepad.

The scratch of your pen seemed deafening in the charged silence.

“What are you writing?” His tone was sharper now, irritation bubbling just beneath the surface. You glanced up cautiously, noting the slight flare of his nostrils and the way his claws flexed against the stone floor.

“It’s nothing important,” you assured him, your voice soft but deliberate. “Just a few notes for me. Is that okay?”

His eyes narrowed further, glowing faintly as if testing your words for deceit. After a tense moment, he leaned back, the massive muscles in his shoulders relaxing slightly. “Yeah… I guess.”

You allowed yourself a small exhale, the pen trembling faintly in your grip as you made another note. “Thank you. So, tell me—what’s your favorite hobby?” you asked, keeping your tone light, almost conversational.

Satan blinked, clearly caught off guard again. “Hobby?” he repeated, as if the concept were foreign to him. A pause stretched between you, and then he shrugged. “Uh… I like working out.”

Internally, you groaned. Great, you thought, suppressing the urge to roll your eyes. A gym bro with anger issues. But outwardly, you smiled, though your fingers tightened slightly around your pen.

As you scribbled his answer, you felt a subtle shift in the air. His gaze hadn’t left you, and there was something unsettling about the way he watched you now—curious, calculating, like a predator studying its prey. The edges of his mouth twitched, as if he were amused by something only he understood.

“Do you always write so much?” he asked suddenly, his voice a little too casual.

You froze for half a second before looking up. “Only when it helps me understand my client better,” you said evenly.

Satan’s lip curled faintly, exposing a hint of razor-sharp teeth. “Interesting,” he murmured, leaning forward slightly. His massive frame seemed to loom larger, casting a shadow that swallowed the light around you. “You seem… different. For a therapist. For a succubus.”

The word dripped with disdain, but there was an odd curiosity in his tone as well. Your throat tightened, but you forced yourself to hold his gaze.

“I don’t think I fit the usual mold,” you replied lightly, though the words felt thin against the heavy atmosphere.

Satan chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “No, you don’t. But we’ll see how long that lasts.”

The way he said it felt more like a warning than a casual remark. And as the room grew unnervingly quiet again, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had just stepped into something far more dangerous than you were prepared for.

“Anyway,” you began, trying to dissipate the strange tension in the air, “what do you usually do to calm yourself?” Your voice was steady, professional, but you were acutely aware of the weight of his golden gaze lingering on you.

Satan tapped his claw against his chin, the sharp tip glinting faintly in the dim light. “I work out,” he said simply.

You nodded and placed your notepad down. “Have you ever tried anything else? Something less… physical?”

He shook his head, leaning back with a nonchalant shrug. “No.”

“Interesting.” Your pen hovered over the page, a faint smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Bingo. A potential breakthrough, something to work on next week. “Maybe you should try something new,” you suggested, glancing up at him to gauge his reaction.

Satan raised an eyebrow, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Something new?”

You nodded, maintaining your professional tone. “Yes. There might be situations where you aren’t able to work out. Finding an alternative that brings you calm can help—something you enjoy that doesn’t rely on strength or exertion.”

You could see him thinking, his gaze becoming distant for a moment before snapping back to you. Then, he said it, blunt and unapologetic:

“Sex.”

Your pen slipped slightly, leaving a faint mark across your notepad as your head shot up to meet his gaze. “Excuse me?”

“Sex,” he repeated, his deep voice rumbling like distant thunder. “I enjoy it. Specifically, I love to dominate. It brings me a sense of calm, of control.”

The heat in the room seemed to spike as his words hung in the air, heavy and electric. You felt your breath hitch slightly, your professionalism faltering under the weight of his admission. Your teeth caught your bottom lip, a subconscious reflex as your mind betrayed you with images you hadn’t invited.

Satan, towering over you, his claws dragging possessively over your skin. His deep growls vibrating against your neck as his body pressed you into the bed like prey. The way his molten gaze would devour every inch of you, a predator savoring its prize.

The thought was dangerous, forbidden—and utterly intoxicating.

“You’re quiet,” Satan observed, a faint smirk curling at the edge of his lips. He leaned forward, resting his massive claws on the table between you. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to sit straighter in your chair, though the heat creeping up your neck betrayed your inner turmoil. “Not at all,” you lied, your voice wavering slightly.

His smirk widened, the sharp tips of his teeth glinting faintly in the low light. “Liar.”

Your breath hitched again as he stood, the sheer size of him making the room feel smaller, more suffocating. He stepped closer, his movements slow, deliberate, predatory. His shadow fell over you, and you tilted your head up to meet his gaze, your heart pounding furiously in your chest.

“Tell me,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, velvety growl. “Have you ever let someone take control of you? Completely?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. His presence was overwhelming, his golden eyes boring into you with an intensity that felt like it could strip you bare.

“Let me guess,” he continued, his voice smooth and teasing. “You play the role of the confident therapist. Always in control, always composed. But I wonder…” He leaned closer, his claw tipping your chin up slightly. “What would happen if you let go? If you surrendered—for once?”

Your pulse raced as his words sent a shiver down your spine. The air between you was charged, thick with tension that felt ready to snap at any moment.

“I—” You barely managed to speak before his smirk deepened.

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” he purred, his voice dripping with dark amusement. “I can see it in your eyes, feel it in the way your body reacts to me.”

Your breath quickened, your mind a blur of conflicting thoughts. This wasn’t supposed to happen—this wasn’t professional. But the pull of his presence, the raw magnetism of him, was impossible to ignore.

As he leaned back, giving you a moment to catch your breath, his smirk softened into something darker, more sinister. “We’ll see how long you can resist,” he murmured, his voice like a promise—a challenge.

You swallowed hard, gripping the edge of your notepad like it was a lifeline. Whatever line had just been crossed, there was no going back now. And the worst part? Some small, treacherous part of you didn’t want to.

You glanced at the clock on the wall, the ticking seconds echoing louder in your ears as you realized the session had come to an end. It felt like both a relief and a punishment. You cleared your throat, trying to regain your composure. “Our time is up for today.”

Gripping your notepad tightly, you rose from your chair, the slight tremble in your legs betraying the inner conflict you fought to suppress. “I’ll see you next week?” you asked, your voice carefully measured, though the second heartbeat between your thighs throbbed mercilessly, reminding you of how thin the line was between professionalism and raw, unspoken desire.

Satan leaned back into his seat, his massive frame exuding power and ease as his ever-present smirk stretched across his face. “You’re quite interesting, you know that?” he said, his golden eyes glinting with something dark, something dangerous.

The way his words curled in the air, dripping with molten heat, sent a shiver down your spine. And then he said it—your name.

“See you next week, Y/n.”

The sound of your name, as it rolled off his tongue like a lazy threat, like a predator marking its prey, felt like fire licking at your skin. It wasn’t just the way he said it—it was the way he owned it, as if your name wasn’t yours anymore but his to use, to savor, to command.

You swallowed hard, your throat dry as you fought to maintain control of yourself. His gaze lingered on you, heavy and consuming, as if he could see every thought, every reaction you tried to bury. The room felt smaller, hotter, as if the very air bent to his will.

You took a deep breath, willing the flush creeping up your neck to subside, and bowed your head slightly—a courteous gesture, but also an excuse to break free of his burning gaze. “I’ll… take my leave now,” you managed, your voice steadier than you expected, though your body betrayed you with every trembling step toward the door.

The silence stretched, but you could feel him watching you, his presence looming even as you turned your back to him. Each step felt heavier, your legs weaker, as if some invisible tether pulled you back to him.

“Y/n,” he called softly, his voice low and dripping with amusement. It was enough to stop you in your tracks, your hand hovering just above the door handle.

You turned slightly, not enough to meet his gaze but enough to let him know you were listening.

“I’ll be looking forward to it,” he said, his smirk audible in his voice. “Next week… I expect us to get much more personal.”

Your breath caught, and you didn’t trust yourself to respond. With a hurried nod, you pushed open the heavy door, stepping into the hall as quickly as you could without outright running.

As the door closed behind you, the weight of his words lingered, wrapping around you like a vice. Each step away from his chamber only made the ache within you stronger, and the echo of his voice—dark, commanding, possessive—played on repeat in your mind.

When you finally reached the outside air, you exhaled deeply, pressing a hand to your chest as if to steady the wild beat of your heart. But no matter how much distance you put between you and him, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were still trapped—bound not by his hands, but by his voice, his gaze, his presence.

And the worst part? You weren’t entirely sure you wanted to escape.

______________________

Your mind drifted to Satan again, as it often did these days. His golden eyes, the low timbre of his voice, the weight of his presence—all of it lingered with you like an intoxicating haze. It was wrong to think of him this way, wasn’t it? You're the therapist. A being of ancient power. Yet his words from the last session whispered through your mind, sending a shiver down your spine: “Next week… I expect us to get much more personal.” What did he mean? The thought left you breathless, your lip caught between your teeth as you tried to push the memory away.

With a sigh, you turned your attention to the mirror, pulling yourself together. Today was a new session, and you needed to remain professional. No room for fluttering thoughts or the heat that crept up your neck every time he said your name. After all, you had a job to do, and you’d prepared exercises meant to calm, not... whatever this was. You brushed out your hair, adjusted your outfit, and gave yourself one last look. You could do this.

The drive to his mansion felt longer than usual, the limousine’s quiet luxury giving your mind too much space to wander. By the time you arrived and stepped out, your palms were clammy despite the crisp air. You gathered your supplies—a palette, brushes, a canvas—and headed to the imposing doors. They opened with a creak, and there he was, standing tall, his figure sharper than usual in a tailored outfit that clung just enough to his form to make you notice. Was he doing this on purpose? The thought made your cheeks flush.

“Satan,” you greeted, keeping your voice steady as you stepped inside.

“Y/n,” he said simply, his golden eyes locking onto yours. He always said your name like it was a secret, something sacred.

You set your supplies down, the clinking of brushes breaking the charged silence. He tilted his head, his gaze flicking over the items with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. “What is this?” he asked, his tone edged with intrigue.

“Painting,” you said, smiling softly. “It’s something that can help channel emotions. I thought it might be worth trying with you.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly, but the flicker of interest in them was unmistakable. “You think this will calm me?”

“It’s worth a shot,” you replied, your tone light. “But first, I need you to… shrink a bit. Your current size might make it tricky.”

He arched a brow but complied without argument, his towering form diminishing to something more manageable. Even so, he still loomed over you, his presence filling the room in a way that made your breath catch.

You handed him one of your favorite brushes, your fingers grazing his. The brief contact sent a spark through you that you tried to ignore. “This one’s precious to me, so don’t break it,” you said with a teasing smile.

His golden eyes darkened slightly, his gaze lingering on you. “Why would you entrust me with something so valuable?” he asked, his voice low, almost reverent.

“Because I think you’ll manage,” you said simply, turning to demonstrate. The truth was, you trusted him in a way you couldn’t explain, and the weight of his gaze as you worked was almost palpable.

You dipped your brush into the paint, your movements fluid and purposeful as you applied color to the canvas. You explained the process, your voice calm, almost hypnotic, as you encouraged him to let his emotions guide him. “It doesn’t have to be perfect,” you said, glancing at him. “Just let it flow.”

Satan watched you intently, his focus shifting between your hands and your face. There was something mesmerizing about the way you moved—graceful, confident, entirely at ease. He tried to mimic your strokes but grew frustrated when his didn’t have the same beauty. Fire flickered briefly at the corner of his mouth as his grip on the brush tightened.

“Take your time,” you said gently, your voice softening. “You’ll manage.”

Those words seemed to echo in his mind, silencing his frustration. Slowly, the tension in his shoulders eased. His golden eyes settled on you again, and this time, there was something softer in them—something that made your heart skip a beat.

“Pretty,” he murmured, the word so quiet you almost missed it.

You glanced up, assuming he meant his canvas. “It’s not bad for a first try,” you said, smiling.

But when your eyes met his, you realized he wasn’t looking at the canvas at all. He was looking at you. The intensity of his gaze made heat rise to your cheeks, and for a moment, you were lost in it.

“I… meant your canvas,” he said quickly, the faintest hint of a stammer in his voice. He turned away, focusing on his painting as if the moment hadn’t happened. “I suppose this isn’t for me,” he added, his tone returning to its usual steadiness.

You sighed softly, setting your brush down. “That’s okay. We’ll find something else to try next time.”

When it was time to leave, you gathered your supplies, his lingering gaze following you to the door. “Till next time, Y/n,” he said, his voice softer than usual.

You smiled, bidding him goodbye before stepping into the limousine. As the car pulled away, you stared out the window, your reflection blushing faintly. “Cute,” you muttered under your breath, thinking of his fleeting shyness.

And maybe, just maybe, you were starting to think of him a little differently too.

As the limousine glided down the winding road back into the city, Y/n leaned their head against the cool glass of the window. The world outside blurred into streaks of light and shadow, but their mind was too preoccupied to notice. Their chest tightened as they replayed the day's moments, each interaction with Satan etched into their memory with vivid clarity.

His golden eyes watching them, the way his brows furrowed in frustration only to soften when he heard their encouragement, and that one unguarded word he’d uttered—“pretty.” Y/n sighed and closed their eyes, the image of his intense gaze surfacing unbidden. He had said it so quietly, yet it echoed in their ears, lingering like a secret between them.

Why am I letting this get to me? Y/n thought, shaking their head. Satan was their patient. A being to be studied and guided, not… admired. And yet, there was something about him—something magnetic and impossible to ignore. His raw power was undeniable, but beneath the towering presence and occasional flashes of anger, there was a vulnerability that Y/n couldn’t help but find fascinating.

When the mansion’s doors had first opened to reveal him, standing there like some otherworldly figure carved out of the very shadows of the underworld, Y/n had been struck by how human he seemed despite his demonic origins. He was capable of humor, of curiosity, and, at times, even shyness—like when he stammered over his compliment and turned away. That brief flash of awkwardness had been disarming, endearing even, and it left a warmth in Y/n’s chest that refused to fade.

_______________

The past few weeks had been a blur of trial and error as you and Satan searched for a way to calm his tempestuous nature. Every method—meditation, physical exercises, even music—had ended in failure. Yet, with every attempt, the two of you had grown closer. Comfort had crept in between the boundaries you’d initially set, a warmth that softened the edges of your professional relationship. Perhaps it was too much comfort.

Frustrated, you ran your hands through your hair, tugging slightly as you let out a groan. “What’s left?” you muttered, mostly to yourself. You hated admitting defeat, but the lack of progress was wearing on you.

“Are you okay?” Satan’s deep voice broke through your spiraling thoughts. He leaned against the edge of his desk, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly as they scanned your face. Concern lingered in his tone, though there was something else in his expression—something darker, more intent.

You sighed, leaning back against the wall, your shoulders sagging. “Yeah, I’m just… out of ideas,” you admitted, rubbing your temples. “Nothing seems to work. Maybe you were right all along—this isn’t going to change.”

A low growl escaped him, and he moved closer, the space between you shrinking with every step. “There’s one thing we haven’t tried,” he said, his voice a seductive rumble. He reached out, his clawed fingers brushing along the curve of your neck with a gentleness that sent a shiver down your spine. The ruby necklace he’d given you weeks ago caught the light, glinting like a drop of blood between you.

You swallowed hard, your breath hitching. “I’m open,” you replied, though your voice wavered. You weren’t sure what you expected him to say, but the tension in the air was thick enough to drown in.

His lips curved into a slow, wicked smile, and his eyes seemed to glow brighter. “Let me please you,” he said, the words both a question and a command.

Your brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

His hand slid lower, taking yours in his. His touch was firm but surprisingly warm, and you couldn’t ignore the way your pulse quickened. “For weeks, I’ve been thinking of you. Not just as a distraction from my anger, but as something—someone—I want to consume. Every thought I’ve had has been about how to lure you in, how to make you mine.”

Your heart thundered in your chest, your body tingling with the weight of his confession. He slipped a delicate, shining ring onto your finger, the smooth metal cold against your skin.

“I’ve never felt this way before,” he continued, his voice dropping to a near-growl. “I’m throbbing for you, aching to show you what it means to be claimed by me.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat as he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. His clawed hand moved to your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.

The first touch of his tongue against your neck made you gasp, the sensation sending a jolt of electricity straight to your core. His other hand cupped your jaw, tilting your head to the side to give him better access as he traced slow, burning lines along your skin.

“Satan…” His name fell from your lips in a breathless moan as his claws found the waistband of your pants, the sharp tips grazing your skin without breaking it.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he murmured against your throat, his voice raw with need. “Tell me you want it too.”

You didn’t trust your voice, so you nodded, your hands clutching at his shoulders as if to ground yourself. That was all the confirmation he needed.

With a growl, he lifted you effortlessly, pinning you against the wall. His lips crashed into yours, the kiss rough and demanding, leaving no room for hesitation. His sharp teeth grazed your lower lip, and the pain mingled with pleasure in a way that made your head spin. His hands roamed your body, one clawed hand tangling in your hair while the other gripped your hip, holding you firmly in place.

You gasped as he tore open your shirt, the fabric giving way like paper under his strength. His golden eyes roamed hungrily over your exposed skin, and the heat in his gaze made you shiver. “Perfect,” he growled, his lips descending to your collarbone as his claws worked your pants down, leaving you bare beneath his burning gaze.

He pressed his body against yours, his skin hot like fire but not unbearable. The sensation was intoxicating, his power and desire radiating off him in waves that left you trembling. His mouth found your chest, his tongue and teeth teasing sensitive skin until you were writhing beneath him, your nails digging into his shoulders as you fought to keep some semblance of control.

But control was the last thing Satan allowed. “Let go,” he commanded, his voice a low snarl as his hand slipped between your thighs. His touch was rough but precise, drawing sounds from you that you’d never made before. He smirked against your skin, clearly pleased with the effect he had on you.

You couldn’t hold back anymore. Your hands roamed over his chest, tracing the hard lines of his muscles, the heat of his body searing into your palms. His growls deepened as you touched him, and when you whispered his name again, it seemed to drive him over the edge.

He latched onto your nipple, his hot, eager tongue swirling around the sensitive peak as though it held the key to quenching a deep, unrelenting hunger. The heat of his mouth sent a surge of pleasure coursing through you, your back arching instinctively to press closer to him. Each flick and tug of his tongue was deliberate, rough yet skilled, and it drove you wild with every second.

Your hands found his horns, gripping tightly as a loud, unrestrained moan tore from your lips. The sensation of his horns beneath your fingers—solid, commanding, and so uniquely him—only heightened the intensity of the moment. He groaned in response, the vibration of it against your skin adding a tantalizing edge to the pleasure.

As you opened your mouth to say something—perhaps to beg, perhaps to curse his name—his massive hand moved swiftly, covering your mouth and silencing you with an almost possessive dominance. His palm was warm, his claws just barely grazing your jawline, a silent reminder of his power.

“Shh,” he growled against your skin, his voice thick with desire and control. “No words. Just feel.”

The command sent a shiver down your spine, your muffled protests turning into needy whimpers against his hand. His golden eyes flicked up to meet yours, the intensity in them making your pulse race. He didn’t need to say more; the look alone spoke volumes. You’re mine, and I’m going to show you exactly what that means.

His free hand trailed down your side, the sharp edge of his claws leaving ghostly trails that tingled with a mix of anticipation and pleasure. He shifted slightly, his lips abandoning one nipple to lavish attention on the other, his teeth grazing it just enough to make you gasp against his palm.

“Such sweet sounds,” he murmured between kisses, his voice a deep, sinful growl that left you trembling. “I want to hear every single one.”

He claimed you fully then, his movements powerful and relentless as he pushed you to your limits and beyond. The roughness of his touch, the possessiveness in every kiss and thrust, sent you spiraling into a state of pure bliss. He was consuming, overwhelming, but it was everything you hadn’t known you needed.

When it was over, you were both breathing heavily, your bodies tangled together on the floor. His claws traced lazy circles on your skin, the sharp tips surprisingly gentle now.

“You’re mine,” he murmured, his golden eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that left no room for argument.

You smiled, brushing a hand through his tousled hair. “Yours,” you whispered, and for the first time in weeks, you felt completely at peace.

“I need to take you fully,” he growled, his voice rough with restraint, though his burning gaze made it clear his control was hanging by a thread. His golden eyes bore into yours, aflame with desire and something deeper—possessiveness, perhaps, or the primal need to claim you completely. His hot breath fanned across your face, each exhale like a spark threatening to ignite you from within.

You swallowed hard, your body trembling beneath him as you nodded, unable to form words. He stood, towering over you even in his "smallest" form, and the sound of his belt buckle clicking open made your heart skip. His hand gripped the base of his shaft, his claws brushing lightly against his skin as he stroked himself. His movements were deliberate, slow, as he smeared the slick arousal you’d already left on him along his length. The sight of it was utterly mesmerizing.

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, his voice a rumble of raw need. His eyes darted to your smaller frame beneath him, the contrast between your softness and his powerful figure making his jaw tighten. Your body trembled under his intense scrutiny, and the way you shuddered only seemed to spur him on.

“You’ll take all of me,” he promised darkly, his lips pulling into a feral smirk before he positioned himself at your entrance. Slowly, he began to press in, the stretch almost overwhelming as he filled you inch by inch. The thickness of him made your breath hitch, your fingers clutching at his shoulders as your body struggled to accommodate him.

When he was fully seated inside you, he let out a guttural groan, his head falling forward as if savoring the way your body gripped him so tightly. “Perfect,” he muttered, his voice laced with awe and lust. “You were made for this. Made for me.”

He started to move, his thrusts deliberate and forceful, his pace building with every stroke. The wet, sinful sounds of your body meeting his filled the den, mingling with the guttural sounds he made as he lost himself in the rhythm. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you, his rough movements perfectly hitting every sensitive spot.

“Look at you,” he growled, his voice thick with pride as he watched your body arch beneath him, your moans spilling out freely. “Taking me so well—every inch of me.”

His hands gripped your hips tightly, claws digging in just enough to leave marks as he pulled you into each thrust. His pace quickened, his breathing harsh and uneven, a symphony of raw need that filled the space around you.

Your moans turned into cries of ecstasy as he pounded into you harder, the force of it making your head spin. The pressure building inside you was unbearable, each stroke bringing you closer to the edge. He growled your name, the sound reverberating through the air as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear.

“You’re mine,” he rasped, his voice breaking slightly as he thrust even harder, his control finally snapping. “Say it.”

“Yours,” you gasped, your voice trembling with pleasure and submission. “I’m yours.”

The words seemed to ignite something in him, his movements becoming even more relentless. His growls deepened, and the way he pounded into you left you utterly breathless. Every nerve in your body was aflame, and as you reached your peak, the intensity of it shattered you completely, your cries echoing through the den.

Moments later, he followed, his movements faltering as he let out a deep, primal groan. You felt him shudder above you, his body rigid as he spilled into you, marking you in a way that felt both physical and otherworldly.

For a moment, the only sounds were the two of you catching your breath, the heat of his body still pressed against yours. He leaned down, brushing a surprisingly tender kiss against your forehead, a stark contrast to the ferocity he’d shown moments before.

“You’re mine,” he repeated softly, almost as if reassuring himself.

And as you lay there in his arms, thoroughly claimed and utterly sated, you knew he was right. You were his. And you didn’t want it any other way.

Saw no one making shit about him so here I am your savior. Damn y'all.

💫

Masterlist

[girlfromflor]

part 8 | supersoldiers!141 x f!reader

you’ve had a fair share of weird experiences in your lifetime, especially since you’ve started feeling your teammates and lovers emotions. but experiencing ovulation around them has to be on the top tier. it gets you in all types of situations, from simon trying to get you off in the middle of the clearing you do your training because he could feel you getting worked up every time he touched you, to john knocking on your door in the middle of the night because he could feel your desperation – thank god he was the only one awake. both johnny and kyle kept you busy enough on your free time, showing you hidden paths in the woods that surround their house to tire you out and fingerfucking you until you’re asleep once you’re back home – you know, the usual. it had been quite a manageable week, you thought, but nothing could’ve prepared you for when you got your period. it’s the first time you have to experience your full cycle after all the required experiments and specifically after taking the mandatory dose. that, by itself, is a big game changer to what you were used to, but with all the consequences that comes with it, you actually think you’re going insane.

for starters, feeling them so viscerally was enough to get you bothered. on the days before your period actually came you were naturally responsive to things, but sometimes you’d feel their empathy towards you and you felt both bad about them feeling your inner turmoil and mad that they didn’t do anything besides feeling sorry for you. and that triggered a chain reaction between the five of you: john trying to fit a nurturing role that was yours in the first place, johnny trying to be there for you but not knowing his ways with his words, simon not knowing anything besides that you looked like you could murder someone and then cry at their funeral and kyle who could only think about how all of their emotions affect you the most now.

but then your period came, and with it came the painful cramps and the everlasting need of something you didn’t really know how to feed – like an itch so unbearably annoying and that you can’t scratch. the first day is pure torture because you just want to lay down and be at peace but you have to get up early and train at the clearing with everyone else. you’re lazy and pouty as you get ready in your place, having slept alone the night before. you were so afraid that you’d snap at them for no reason, that you avoided spending time with them entirely. at least you’re not so bitchy anymore, you thought to yourself. as you think back to the last few days, you can’t help but feel a bit sad and guilty for your behaviour, the emotion immediately striking someone else’s bad emotion and turning into a paired turmoil. you try to figure out who it is that is sulking so early in the morning with you, but it’s hard to tell by the haziness from the others who clearly are not awake enough.

it’s still a bit dark outside as you walk past their house, all the way into the middle of the woods to reach the clearing where you do most of your combat training. sometimes john makes you run along the river that cuts through some trees, hopefully he won’t today. as you put your small bag to one of the fallen tree trunks, you clock simon’s slumped shoulders right on sight. oh, so he was the one feeding off your sour mood. you hear the sound of snapping twigs and leaf rustling somewhere behind you, knowing it was the others arriving.

you turn around, not talking with anyone specifically as you say: “good morning…” not leaving time for them to answer, pointing at simon with your thumb. “what happened?” you ask with a whisper, your voice betraying your worriness.

 john walks past you, leaving a kiss on your cheek but he says nothing. johnny just shrugs but you can see his redish, puffy eyes – he has been crying and the notion makes your heart squeeze in your chest. you don’t think twice before wrapping your arms around his shoulders, pulling him in an embrace. you look for kyle, eyes finding his avoidant ones as he stands a few feet behind you and johnny. you reach a hand out, urging him in the hug as well and he accepts it, hugging johnny from behind and resting his hands on your back. you don’t ask what’s wrong, just relish on the silence and warm touch for a while. a long beat of silence passes by, only the sound of the wind on the leaves being heard. nevertheless, john calls you out way too soon and you have to pull away from your little moment of peace. you can sense the calming from within and that helps you settle for the morning. even simon seems more at ease now, and that grounds you to approach him during your break long forty seven minutes later.

he’s sitting on grass rather than on the fallen tree trunk behind him, probably wanting somewhere to rest his back. you lower yourself to sit beside him, the movement causing a sharp pain to cut through your womb. you brush it off, used to the discomfort – even though it is painful, it’s kind of manageable – but wishing you could be home. you hear simon wince and you look at him, your eyes locking with his. 

“what was that?” he asks, pointing to his own lower belly. you couldn’t believe that he could feel your pain as well.

you giggle, answering “that was my womb torturing me,” with a light tone, wanting to reassure him that it was fine.

“does it always feel like that?” he mumbles, not wanting to sound too affected – but he was, and on top of that he was worried.

“it used to be worse. i think i’m more resistant to pain now, after all the injections,” you say humorously, but you’re being truthful. he just hums in understanding, waiting for you to ask what you’ve been meaning to. “what’s wrong, simon?” you voice out at last.

“just… had a nightmare. woke up in a bad mood, and so were you…” he trails off. you know you and him are always the first ones to wake up, which explains why there wasn’t someone to help balance your emotions out. “couldn’t really control it and ended up being mean to johnny on our way here.”

“well, that’s no good. now, is it?” you say, hugging simon’s big arm with both yours as you rest your head on his shoulder. “it’s alright to feel how you do, you know? but it isn’t alright to take it out on others. especially johnny, who i’m sure was just trying to make you feel okay.”

“i– i know that,” he whispers, starting to feel bad again. instead of letting him fall into a spiral, you take his unmasked face into both your hands, bringing his attention to you.

“you know, that’s very easy to fix, right?” you’re nodding as you speak, urging him to nod along. as he does, you make him say what he should do.

“should say ‘m sorry…” he mumbles once again, and you nod in agreement. he takes his hand in yours, appreciating the grounding gesture.

“aye, you do,” you state, finally. he nods again, and looks at you like he’s asking for something. “johnny will forgive you, big boy. don’t worry, just be honest.”

simon is nodding to himself as he walks towards johnny, who’s watching gaz and john trying to knock each other off their feet. you don’t pay attention to the wrestling duo, instead you keep your eyes on the way johnny doesn’t look at simon for a few long seconds before putting a big pout on and punching the blond’s shoulder. simon tries to give him a kiss but johnny looks away, faking a disappointed expression – very badly, by the way, because he’s smiling and sporting heart eyes all the while. you can feel the love they have for each other, and you wish you could share it with them – verbally. let them know that you feel what they feel, more than they can already tell.

another sharp pang of pain hits you as you try to get up, johnny feels it immediately and is already walking towards you to see what he can do to help – bringing simon along by his hand, which was cute to watch. it’s not hard to see that you shouldn’t be combat training in your state if you could be at home, resting and not overworking yourself. so that being said – by johnny to john – you all go home. they all love an excuse to stay at home, and what better reason than taking care of their sweetheart, right?

you take a shower in kyle’s bathroom, using his products and enjoying the way you smell so much like him now. you only step out because he says to you that he wants to shower too. you put on a change of clothes you left in his room one day and snatch one of his sweatshirts. once you’re back downstairs you catch johnny and simon lovingly making out on the couch – like they’ve been apart for years –, as john watches from his recliner with a fond smile on his face. he calls for you with his hand, pulling him to sit on his lap with your side to his chest. he pushes a warm hand to your lower belly right above your womb and kisses your temple, saying “it’ll help you with your pain, love.”

first morning of your period? successfully dealt with.

series masterlist

a/n: shorter chapter this time. hope you like it! also, i'll be checking my taglist bc i just realized there's a lot of people, so pls make sure you have your age in your bio or pinned post. | taglist: @fruitymoonbeams-blog @little-mini-me-world @bath1lda @imthatone-annoyingfriend @night-shadowblood-writes2 @z-wantstowrite @kentuckyhobbit @supernova2205 @thatghostlykid @reggiesslut @reap3erslov3 @aldis-nuts @mestrecadumaverick @siriusxmunofficial @echo9821 @luvr-bunnyy @bluebarrybubblez @lilynotdilly @sleep101 @kneelforloki @rawme-price

[pit-and-the-pen]

Greedy Little Thing

Requested:

Hii just saw your blog for the first time and I'm in love😭😭. Also saw your asks are open and I strongly believe that the needy Az fic deserves a part two with needyyyy reader (begging) please please pleaseeee. We know Az will be brilliant at thissss.

This was so much fun to write. This is really just pure filth.

Technically a part 2 to this request but it’s not required!

Warnings: so much teasing, oral (f receiving), edging/ orgasm denial, some implied cum eating, creampie, p in v sex (18+), dirty talk, praise, Azriel being a little shit.

WC:3.1K

You very rarely got to see your mate dressed up. So used to seeing him in his training leathers that seeing him in anything else had you practically drooling. But seeing him in dress clothes was enough to bring you to your knees, black button down rolled up to his elbows, black dress pants that showed off his glorious thighs and ass. Your mate was hot, more than hot, he was built like a god. 

“Did you need something, doll?” He spoke. You realized you had come into the room for something. You were going to tell him something but all thoughts eddied out of your brain the moment you saw him. 

“You.” The world tumbled out of your mouth without you thinking. He chuckled lightly as he noticed your stare. And just to tease you, he flexed his arms making the veins pop ever so slightly. You imagined running your tongue over them and heat pooled deep in your belly. 

“It seems you’ve forgotten that we have plans tonight.” He was suddenly right in front of you. His finger hooking under your chin to make you look up at him. 

“We do?” Your voice was breathless, needy and whiny as you tried to recall where exactly you had to be that would keep you from climbing Azriel like a tree. 

“Cassian’s birthday party?” He asked more than spoke. Shit. That was what you had come here for. You needed to know where the wrapping paper went. The fancy thick ones that even Cassian had trouble tearing into. 

“What time does it start?” You broke your eyes away from him to peer at the clock on your nightstand. It was just a little past 5.

“Six. And you still need to get dressed.” You felt a pout rise on your face and Azriel’s thumb popped your bottom lip. He leaned down and gave you a chaste kiss. Well it was supposed  to be chaste but you got your arms around his neck before he could pull away. Teeth instantly sink into his bottom lip. He groaned and trailed his hands over your waist. He used his grip to pull you away from him, stepping back until your arms were fully extended around his shoulders. 

“Keep that up, princess, and we won’t go at all.”

‘Is that a bad thing?” 

“Nesta will come get us herself with how much planning she’s done.” You sighed heavily as he stepped out of your hold, your body instantly missing his warmth. 

“Go get ready and I’ll finish wrapping his present. Since that’s what you came in here looking for.” The bastard knew the whole time but had wanted to rile you up. Fine. Two can play that game. You spun on your heel and stomped over to the closet.

The dress you picked was one you had just gotten. Intricately cut patterns of fabric that covered just enough to be decent. It wasn’t your usual color, opting to not get it in your favorite sapphire blue but instead a red so dark it was almost purple. It matched your skin tone so wonderfully and brought out the color of your eyes. You left your hair down, letting it flow naturally over your shoulder, covering the exposed skin the dress left. Grabbing the matching heels, you slipped out of the closet and headed to grab the set of bracelets Azriel had recently gotten you. 

You struggled to clasp them, holding the delicate chain as it continued to slip out of your grasp. You gave a frustrated noise after the third attempt and went to go find your mate to help you. 

“Az.” You called into the house. Not knowing where he was. 

“In here.” He answered from his study. The door was opened so you walked in, still holding the bracelet to your wrist. You held it out for him, not even looking up. 

“I need your help.” You finally looked at him when you didn’t get a response and felt the surge of lust down the bond. His eyes hungirly roved over your figure. The tight dress clinging to the plush of your breast, your stomach and thighs. He licked his lips as he walked over to you. Azriel took your outstretched wrist with a careful hand and managed to clasp the silver bracelet. 

He placed a soft kiss to your pulse point before pulling you against him. A soft grunt leaving you as you crashed against his chest. His free hand rested on the skin of your back, left open with the low cut of the dress. 

“I know what you’re doing, sweetheart.” He said against the shell of your ear. You fought back a shiver as his breath tickled your neck. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You asked me to get ready.” Your words would have been convincing if it wasn’t for the smell of your arousal in the air. Azriel peeled his hand away from you to catch a glimpse of the watch on his wrist. 

“Ten minutes.” Was all he said before he knelt down in front of you. Your hands followed him down, clutching onto him and settling on his shoulders. He was quick to sling your leg over his shoulder. Opening you up to him. He ran the tip of his nose along the center of your underwear, drinking in your scent. 

“You’re drenched for me, sweetheart.” 

“Az-” You mewled as he reached up to tug your panties to the side. Your hands slid into his hair as he flicked the tip of his tongue over your clit. Teasing the bundle of nerves with feather-light strokes. Your nails dug into his scalp, focusing on the hints of pleasure he was giving you. A breathy “please” leaving your mouth was all it took for him to unleash himself. His pace was merciless, the sounds of his lips on your mingling perfectly with your loud cries. Your legs wobbled slightly and he wrapped an arm around you. Giving you leverage to ride his face, your hips bucking in time with his tongue. 

He had you rapidly approaching your peak. Broken version of his name falling over your lips. 

“Az I’m gonna-” And right as you felt that clench deep in your stomach, he was pulling away. 

A loud cry of outrage left you as you stared down at him. Chest heaving as he placed your foot back down on the ground and stood up to his full height again. He smoothed your dress back into place on your hips, squeezing lightly as he did. 

You felt hot all over, pulse thrumming across your skin. Words failed you as Azriel licked his lips, cleaning your glistening arousal off of his face. 

“I-I was so close.” You whined, closing your eyes as if trying to will the feeling to come back. 

“And maybe now you’ll listen to me when I tell you to wait and not try to tease me like a brat.” He tapped your cheek, a silent request for you to open your eyes. “Now you can be frustrated all night while I decide if I’m going to let you cum.” 

Your eyes widened at his words. “Please. I’ll be good. Please let me cum.” 

He placed a small kiss on your forehead before looking at his watch again. He picked up the present and held an arm out for you. You didn’t hesitate, although a little pouty, to grab it as he winnowed you to the venue Nesta had picked out. 

The girls had spared no expense, and it was obvious as you looked around. Cassian normally wasn’t one for big parties but the century birthdays were always a big deal. Nesta had turned the club into an almost intimate setting but the music thumping through the sound system had your pulse skyrocketing again. You felt it everywhere, still so worked up with not being able to cum. Azriel rubbed small circles into your back, encouraging you to relax. 

“I’ll get us drinks.” He said as he placed another kiss to the top of your head. 

The club was still open to the public tonight, Nesta had just reserved the top floor for Cassian’s party. He would still want to dance with Nesta and she was fully aware of that. You looked around the room for the rest of your friends and quickly spotted them. Cassian's wings sticking out among the crowd. He already had Nesta pulled tight against him. You caught her eye and she pulled away from him with a cat-like smile before she focused on you. You extended the present out to her and she took it to add to the growing pile on one of the tables. 

“You made it.” She gave you a smirk that let you know you must not have been as composed as you thought you were. “I’m surprised with you wearing…that.” She covered her laugh as you rolled your eyes. 

“Azriel was very insistent on being here on time.” As you looked for your other friends you felt your anger rising. No one else had shown up yet, you and Az being the first other couple here. Frustration overrode the lust still buzzing below your skin until you felt Azriel join your side. 

He handed you your drink, suddenly very grateful for the cool glass against your hand. 

“How did you convince them to let you decorate?” Azriel asked Nesta who merely shrugged in response. 

“I’m persuasive.” She responded and you felt the urge to laugh at the image of her storming into the club managers office and demanding them to let her essentially redo half of the club. You took a deep sip of your drink as the rest of your family slowly started to arrive. Feyre and Rhys first, with a small mountain of gifts. Mor, Emerie and Gwen arrive next. Elain and Lucien after, and even Amren. 

Eventually rounds of shots were poured as everyone started to get started for the night. Cassian was glowing with happiness as he danced with Nesta, then Feyre and eventually you. He spun you in a large circle as you tipped your head back laughing. He had gotten better at dancing since being with Nesta, a fact she was very proud of. He had two left feet and no rhythm before he met her. 

The song faded into the next and you excused yourself from the dance floor to get another drink. Azriel was right behind you, hands seeming to gravitate towards your waist and back. He had left teasing touches all over skin the entire night and it was enough to have your thighs clenching together as your mind drifted to the unfinished events in his office. 

“You seem tense, sweetheart.” His hands going to rest on your shoulders, fingers rubbing at the tight muscles around your neck. You leaned into his touch, biting back a moan at the feeling of him touching you so intimately. He chuckled as he pulled away, a deep frown on your face. He was still riling you up, hours after and it was working perfectly. Your thighs were sticking with your arousal. 

“Az, please.” You plead, not entirely sure what you were begging for. For him to stop, for him to pull you into the bathroom of the club and finally finish what he started. 

“Behave.” Was all he said as he pulled you to the center of the dance floor, you drink still waiting on the bar top. 

He pulled you tight against him as the song shifted to something slower, something more sensual. His hips dug into yours perfectly, meeting you beat for beat. Your hands were digging into the front of his shirt, clutching onto the fabric to stop yourself from melting into a pool at his feet. His hands ghosting along your waist, over your sides, brushing every inch of exposed skin had you panting against him. You pulled him down to meet your lips, a sigh escaping both of you as you did. His hands went to rest on the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him. His tongue parted your lips and he licked into your mouth. Demanding every bit of your attention. 

You didn’t realize he had backed you into a corner until you felt the wall behind you. It gave you leverage to grind your hips against him. A small part of you was satisfied as you felt his rock hard length through his pants. He pulled away from the kiss, eyes dark and pupils blown. He was matching your breathing, chest rising and falling as he fought to catch his breath. 

You reached your hand down before he caught your wrist and pulled you away from his waistband. 

“I told you to behave.” He growled in your ear. The sound was so perfect it made you want to cry out in frustration. You felt it everywhere. Your toes curl in your heels as you whine. 

“Az. You proved your point. I’ll listen.” Your voice is high pitched. 

“Look at you, so needy for me. I bet you would let me fuck you right here?” Your breath hitched in your throat at the thought. He laughed darkly at your response. “You would, wouldn’t you. My little slut, so needy for my cock she’d let me fuck her in a room full of strangers.” He bit the junction between your neck and shoulders had a loud moan falling from your lips. 

“Az-” He silenced you with a kiss. Hips driving into yours, pinning you against the wall. You wrapped a leg around his waist, exposing your dripping core to him. He growled low in his chest and you felt the world moving around you. 

Next thing you felt was the plush of your large bed underneath you. 

“You want me that badly, princess?” He was already unbuttoning his shirt, his toned chest slowly becoming visible. You nodded, your throat suddenly feeling dry. A small slap to the inside of your thigh had you crying out a yes. 

He leaned over you, arms caging in each side of your head. He eyed you up, a smirk plastered on his face as you panted under him. He reached out and flipped you over so you were in his lap. Straddling his hips, your heels hanging off the edge of the bed. Your hand slipped behind you to take them off but his words stopped you. 

“Keep them on.” Was all he said before he started trailing kisses over your collarbone, down to the space between your breasts. You wanted the dress off, wiggling your hips to tell him as much. Azriel didn’t hesitate. Hands coming up the zipper of the dress and pulling it down excruciatingly slow. He pulled away long enough to slip the scrap of fabric over your head, you arms raising and falling against his chest with a loud smack. He leaned back on his elbows, drinking in your figure. Your skin flushed with need, eyes wide and wild. You leaned down and started placing open mouth kisses on his exposed chest. You went to slide off of his lap before a firm hand stopped you. 

“As much as I would love to see your pretty mouth wrapped around me. I want to be inside of you.” You could have cried with relief at the words. But you should have known there would be a catch. He didn’t waste another second before he was slipping inside of you. Hours worth of teasing making it almost too easy for him to fill you. You sniffled as you sunk down completely. Already drunk off the feeling of him. 

His hands found themselves on either side of your hips, urging you to move at the pace he set. You own arms hooking around his neck as you pull yourself closer to his chest. YOur head rolled back until you were looking at the ceiling, body bouncing with each thrust as you could do nothing but take everything he gave you. 

You felt that coil tightening again in your stomach. Your thighs clenching around his waist, trying to take him deeper. 

“You’re taking my cock so well, sweetheart. Look at how pretty you are.” 

You could do nothing but cling to him tighter, your moans mingling with his own groans. The room was filled with the sounds of your bodies colliding. The bed shook across the floor as he continued to drive his hips against yours, again and again. Your whole body clenched as you were about to tip over the edge and right as you went to cry out for him. He pulled out, flipping you over so you were suddenly under him. You cried out again. 

“Az. Please.” He kissed your cheek, trying to sooth you as you reached out for him. He waited a few heartbeats before he lined himself back up with your entrance and pushed in. 

“Are you gonna be good?” He asked. You would have said yes to whatever he wanted, anything to let you cum for him. You were nodding, voice horse from the pitch of your moans. 

He grabbed your ankles and pushed your thighs up to meet your shoulders, driving his hips with his whole body. You felt every wonderful inch of him this way, could feel how tight your walls were pulling him in. His skin was dewey as a layer of sweat clung to both of you. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as your legs started to shake. Your body so exhausted already as you tried to lift your hips up to meet him. 

“Cum for me, my sweet, beautiful, girl.” He pressed his nose into your shoulder, biting down right as you hit your high. You shuddered in his arms, which tightened around you. Letting you ride out your high as his hips slowed down, grinding against you. It was only a few more moments before he was growling into your ear. HIs hips stilling as he pumped you full of his release. You stayed wrapped around him, basking in the afterglow of one of the best orgasms you had ever had. Body finally relaxing against him. He pulled out of you slowly, your releases spilling out and running down your thigh. Azriel’s eyes went right to the mess between your legs and you saw that glint of hunger that told you the night was only beginning. 

He started to trail kisses down your stomach until he laid flat against the bed. 

“I think I owe you more than one, princess.” And brought his lips to your folds for the second time tonight.

[xoxo-sarah]

Hello my love I have a request for a reader who is like best friends Stevie and you know he’s a caretaker of the group, so she kind of is too anyways she is the caretaker always the mom of the group and everything but he can pick up on some signs that maybe she doesn’t wanna always take care of everybody else like maybe she wants to be taken care of, and he slowly starts doing things for her. But maybe she is reluctant to accept the help so she kinda gets snippy at him queue a frustrated, love confession from Stevie to her. Ends happy because my life is in shambles and I need a happy ending.

Distant

↝a/n: thank you for requesting. I hope you enjoy! 🩷

↝pairing: Steve Harrington x female!reader

|| Disclaimer: I do not own Steve Harrington, or any character from Stranger Things. I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||

↝⎙ 12.20.24

Steve had always been the caretaker of the group. Whether it was driving the kids around or making sure everyone was safe, he was the go-to guy. But there was someone else who shared this role with him—his best friend, you. You were the “mom” of the group, always looking out for everyone and making sure things were in order.

You had become close to the kids shortly after Steve had. Dustin liked you, liked how Steve acted when you were around. It was also fun for Dustin to pick at Steve when you weren't around; talking about how Steve would blush when you looked at him. You never seemed to notice, though.

It wasn't unusual for you and Steve to be attached at the hip. You pretty much thought as one. One followed after the other. So it was natural when you took the group of kids under your wing. You would do anything for them. That was evident when you had a stern talking-to with a group of kids that were messing with Dustin's group at school. You had spent countless nights making and bringing them food when they were busy playing DND. You always made sure they had a ride home. Or, if they needed to go somewhere, you were the first to call. It became a habit to pick Steve up on the way, if he wasn't already with you when you got the call.

It was fun, spending time with them. They were funny and nice, a contrast to other kids their age.

But, all the times playing “mom” could be tiring. It seemed like every time you got the call, you would drop everything. They needed you, why would you decline?

It was one specific night when you had finally had enough.

Dustin kicked Lucas' feet out of the way, walking toward the phone. He knew your number by heart. Honestly, it's a surprise the number hadn't worn off from how much he typed it in. The phone rang…and rang. Usually, you would've picked up by now. Dustin turned, looking at the clock. 2:37 pm. You were off work today. You typically answer. Plucking the phone back into the base, Dustin turned, eyebrows furrowed. “She didn't answer.”

“How are we supposed to get to the arcade?” Mike sat up straighter, kicking himself for breaking the chain on his bike. Nancy was at Jonathan's, and his parents were out with Holly.

“Call Steve.” Lucas looked at Dustin like that was the obvious answer.

Nodding, Dustin turned back to the phone.

“She didn't answer my call either.”

Steve sighed, turning down the familiar street. The other kids were squashed in the back of Steve's car as Dustin sat in the passenger seat. The kid was quick to tell Steve about his worries. Sure, you just didn't answer the house phone. But that wasn't like you. If you had missed it, you always called back. Or called from Steve's house phone.

“Maybe she isn't home.” Mike watched the trees out the window. Truthfully, he just wanted to go to the arcade. He had a high score to beat. Yours, specifically.

Pulling into your driveway, Steve unbuckled, before getting out. Your car was parked in front of his. “I'll ask if she wants to come with.”

Steve practically skipped to the door, knocking and waiting. It took a few moments before you opened the door. “Hey,” Steve took in your appearance. You looked tired, sleep clumped at the corners of your eyes, eye bags apparent. “Uh, the kids were wondering if you wanted to come with us to the arcade.” He used his thumb to point behind him, where the kids were watching.

“Um,” You opened your mouth, looking at the kids, before furrowing your brows. “You know, I actually have to catch up on some sleep.”

“Oh, okay. Dustin was worried about you. You didn't answer his calls or mine.”

“Yeah,” I have a life outside of you and the kids. I don't have to constantly drop everything to play pretend and do their parents job. “I was asleep.” You weren't going to tell him about how you listened as the phone rang, not daring to even get up from the couch.

“alright, just wanted to check up on you.” Steve turned, not wanting to leave, but feeling like you wanted him to.

You smiled, “thanks, and sorry. Enjoy dealing with those hooligans all by yourself.”

Steve laughed, before you closed the door.

~

Days passed, and it was always the same answer. You had other stuff to do. Until Steve came to visit you at work. He saw you through the window, laughing with a coworker. You looked like you. He missed it.

“I'm having a little get-together at my house tonight. You should come. Food, board games, movies. Everything you love.” Steve smiled, begging you with his eyes.

For some reason, you couldn't say no this time around.

As you all gathered at Steve's house for a movie night, he noticed something different about you. You seemed a bit more tired, your smile a little less bright. You were still taking care of everyone, getting everyone snacks, making sure everyone liked the movie before it was put in, but Steve could see the weariness in your eyes.

You didn't pay attention to the movie, mind elsewhere.

“What's going on?” Steve had asked, after everyone was asleep, and you helped clean up.

“What do you mean?”

You didn't meet his eyes, instead focusing on grabbing the candy wrappers and throwing them away.

“You're distant. You don't answer the phone anymore. Did I do something? Did one of them do something?”

“No.” You sighed, “No one did anything. I just…I'm tired. I don't want to be the caretaker all the time.”

Steve slowly nodded, letting you know he was actually listening.

“I mean, I've had to drop so many things just to take them somewhere or pick them up. I have my own life, you know. I have a job so I can pay bills. If I wanted to be a mom, I would have kids myself.” You hated how that made you sound. You felt selfish for wanting time for yourself, but it's just how it is. They're not your kids, you're not their mom. You're a young adult that has to live life without the constant burden of children.

“You don't have to. I'll talk to them-”

“No. Don't do that. It's fine.”

“It's obviously not fine. You're having to ignore us just to get some free time. I'll talk to them.”

You dropped the trash bag, looking up at him. “I said no. It's not that big of a deal.” You huffed, moving around the living room toward the door.

Steve watched as you grabbed your stuff and left.

He knew first hand how it was to be the caretaker of the group. He found it easier to do with you by his side. But obviously, it wasn't like that for you.

Maybe you wanted someone to take care of you for a change.

Steve started doing little things for you. He'd stop by your house to bring you snacks without you asking. He brought you flowers once, claiming it was from him and the kids, for burdening you. Steve tried to do stuff for you, but you were reluctant to accept his help. You'd always been the one to take care of others, and it was challenging to let someone else do that for you. Sometimes, you'd even get snippy with him, telling him you could handle it yourself.

~

You finally came around again- not as much as before, but you didn't decline their calls anymore.

One night, after a particularly long day, Steve found you in his kitchen, cleaning up after everyone else had left. He walked over and took the dish from your hand.

“Steve, I can do it,” you said, your voice tinged with frustration.

“Why won't you let me help you?” he asked, his tone equally frustrated.

“Because I don't need your help!” you snapped back, but your voice cracked, betraying your true feelings.

Steve put the dish down and turned to you, his eyes filled with concern. “You don't always have to be the strong one, you know. It's okay to let someone else take care of you for once.”

You looked at him, tears welling up in your eyes. “But what if I don't know how to let go?”

Steve stepped closer, gently cupping your face in his hands. “Then let me show you,” he whispered. “Because I love you, and I want to be there for you, just like you've always been there for everyone else.”

Your breath hitched at his words, “You… you love me?”

“Yes,” Steve said, his voice firm and sincere. “I love you, and I want to take care of you. So please, let me.”

You felt a weight lift off your shoulders as you finally allowed yourself to lean into his embrace. “Okay,” you whispered, your voice soft and full of relief. “Okay.”

Steve smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “We'll figure it out together,” he said. “One step at a time.”

As the days passed, Steve made it his mission to show you that it was okay to let someone else be there for you. He'd surprise you with your favorite coffee in the morning, leave little notes of encouragement on your bedside table before he leaves at night, and always be there with a listening ear when you needed to vent. Slowly, but surely, you began to let your guard down and accept his help.

~

One Saturday afternoon, Steve took you to a quiet spot by the lake. The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the water. You sat together on a blanket, watching the ducks swim by.

“Thank you,” you said softly, breaking the comfortable silence.

“For what?” Steve asked, looking at you with a gentle smile.

“For everything,” you replied. “For being there for me, for showing me that it's okay to lean on someone else.”

Steve reached out and took your hand in his. “You don't have to thank me,” he said. “I care about you, and I want to be there for you. Always.”

You leaned your head on his shoulder, feeling a sense of peace and contentment that you hadn't felt in a long time. “I love you, Steve,” you whispered.

“I love you too,” he replied, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “And I'm not going anywhere.”

As the sun dipped below the horizon, you knew that you had finally found someone who would always be there for you, no matter what. And for the first time in a long while, you felt like everything was going to be okay.

•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I don't give permission!]

[another-random-fanfic-blog]

My 8 Hybrids Ch. 2

Chapter 2

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Masterlist

Warnings: Blood, violence, abuse, Not edited, will be later

As you sped down the road, you began calculating the how long it would take for you to get to your house versus your clinic. The clinic is the obvious choice to go to, but your house is closer and you wouldn’t have to deal with traffic. Making the decision you used the voice dial on your car to call your friend Will.

“Did you get caught in the rain?” Will asks, forgoing a greeting.

“I need you to get to my house immediately, I’m 15 minutes away,” you respond, ignoring what he said, “This is an emergency.”

“I’ll be there in 10.”

With that you hung up the phone and continued down the road, glancing over at the unconscious rabbit sitting next to you, rage filling you every time as you imagine what you’d like to do with the person who put them there. You call the next person on your list, before you lose yourself in your work and forget to do what you need.

“What trouble did you cause this time?” Kiara asks.

“Trouble? Me? Unlikely,” you retort, giving a small smile.

“Y/N, I’m serious, if you punched another person for hurting a hybrid, despite them deserving it, I will start charging you extra,” Kiara sighs.

“No, not this time, I found two hybrids chained to trees, beaten, bloody, unconscious, a rabbit and some type of big cat I’m assuming. The rabbit may live, but I don’t have hope for the cat,” you explain calmly, “I took video and pictures before getting them down. I will send them to you but I want you to start the process for a lawsuit, just in case something happens.”

“And the hybrids?”

“They will need round the clock care for a while.”

“That’s not what I’m asking and you know it,” Kiara grumbles, “You helped get the laws changed greatly, but unless they have a home lined up, because they are abuse cases, you have to hand them over to hybrid services, where they will probably die from inadequate care.”

“We don’t have to tell them,” you state.

“It’s the law.”

“I don’t care,” you reply shrugging to no one in particular.

“Y/n…”

“Put me down as their owner for now, I will adopt them until we can all decide on something else,” you sigh, not wanting to let the hybrids be taken away.

“I will start the paperwork,” Kiara chirps cheerfully, you know that she wanted you to adopt a hybrid at some point to give you some company. “You wouldn’t happen to know their names would you?”

“According to the rabbit, the cat is named San, I don’t know the rabbits name yet,” you respond, pulling into your driveway and seeing Will sitting in his car, “I’ve got to go, talk later.”

You hang up and come skidding to a halt, throwing your car in park and pushing the door open as you turn off the engine.

“One in the front, one in the back, get the gurney from downstairs, two of them,” you yell out to Will as he nods and runs down the basement stairs.

You open the passenger door and feel the rabbits pulse before moving back to do the same with San. Will comes up in an elevator with two gurneys at his side. Carefully, you help him move San onto one gurney and take him down, while you get the rabbit.

Once the two of you were downstairs, you try to find a spot to hook the rabbit up for an IV, but with such severe dehydration, you have no choice but to do an IO on him. Quickly grabbing a drill, you bore into his bone a little below the knee. Once the fluids were started, you move over to San.

“Mind telling me what happened?” Will asks as he wheels San back from x-rays and begins Sans IO.

“I was hiking, and found these two chained to trees, this one, San apparently, had his leg stuck in a bear claw type trap. I did what I could before bringing them here.” You respond, slowly peeling the makeshift bandage off of San’s leg.

“And here I thought you were paranoid building this place under your house. You wash up while I clean the wound, then we’ll switch.” Will said, not looking up from San’s leg.

“Ok, start him on broad spectrum antibiotics, there’s no telling what bacteria is in those wounds,” you call out from the sink as you change into scrubs and begin cleaning your hands and arms while Will preps San for surgery.

Once you finish and put on gloves, Will switches off, while you continue to debridement of the wound. Once the bleeding is under control and you look at the x-rays, seeing Sans leg is fractured, not broken, which is really the only luck this guy has. Methodically and carefully you and Will work on all of San’s wounds, back and front, in complete silence.

When you first built your home, you had experience finding sick and injured animals in the past, sometimes not being able to take them to get care overnight due to closed clinics. So you demanded a small hospital be built in part of your basement, a hermetically sealed room, filled with everything you’d find in an urgent care. Will said you were crazy for spending this amount on a place you’d never use, and you always thought better safe than sorry.

When work on San was complete, you let Will go look at the blood tests for both, while you worked on the rabbit. He had contusions, cuts, a fractured wrist, dehydration, and severe sunburn. Some of his cuts were infected so you started him on antibiotics as well.

Once you finished, Will came back to you with two bowls, towels, and sponges.

“The boys need cleaned, here’s everything for a sponge bath,” he says smiling and walking away, “I also gave you stuff to wash their hair. I’ll cook some food.”

With a sigh, you carefully start cleaning them, memorizing their features once they were clean and you were done, though you had trouble washing their hair. Both were thin, too thin, tall, from what you could tell by carrying them and them laying down. San had black hair, a sharp jaw, and cat like eyes. Meanwhile, the rabbit had white hair, round boba eyes, and high cheek bones. You moved their beds closer to each other so when they woke, they could see each other easily. You turned on the monitors so they could alert you anywhere in the house, if they woke up, had an issue, or needed an IV refill. Dimming the lights, you walked upstairs to find Will eating ramen and chicken.

“So,” he says getting you a plate as you flop down in your dining room chair, “tell me how you got in this mess with your two new hybrids.” You raise an eyebrow at that, as he places a bowl in front of you. “Kiara told me you adopted them.”

You pulled out your phone and handed it to him so he could go through the pictures and videos, not liking what he saw, while you uploaded your gopro footage to the computer, sending everything in an email to Kiara before you get sidetracked again.

“I’m not a therapist,” you say, “Can you schedule something with Jessica? They will need help, and get her caught up on…this mess.” You remark waving your hand around.

“Sure,” he replies putting his bowl in the sink. “You good, or do you need me to stick around?”

“You can go home before the storm gets worse.”

“Have a good night.” He says as he walks out the door, leaving you to eat in peace.

You finish your food, do the dishes, shower, then grab a cot and set it up in the room with the hybrids, getting ready to sleep after swapping out their IVs.

You slept a solid 10 hours for the first time in…ever before being awoken by muttering. Sitting up, you looked over and saw the rabbit hybrid sitting up and muttering while gripping San’s arm. Slowly standing you make your presence known as the rabbit stares at you frozen and not moving.

“Hi,” you say, approaching as slow as you can, “do you remember me? I found you, and helped you out of the woods.”

The rabbit just stares at you, nose slightly twitching as he plays with San’s fingers.

“San?” He finally asks.

“He has a fractured leg, infection, various wounds, and dehydration…but, barring any unforeseen complications, he should recover, quickly given your advanced healing abilities.” You tell him, as you get close, right next to his bed. “My name is Y/n, this is my home, the basement of my home, can you tell me your name?”

“…Seonghwa,” he says quietly.

“Seonghwa, it’s nice to meet you,” you state, “are you hungry?” He perks up at that and nods. “After I change your IV, I will go get you something to eat. It will be light for now, probably just broth and crackers, but once you keep something down for at least a day, I’d like 2, we will move to something else, ok?”

He nods again and you begin switching out his IV and then San’s, before heading upstairs to get the food. As you heat the broth you take a deep breath, not knowing what to say to Seonghwa as you’ve never been a good conversationalist. Carrying the food down, you stop seeing that San has moved, he was lower in the bed earlier, but now he’s almost sitting, Seonghwa’s pillow helping prop him up. You’re thankful that you decided to bring down two bowls of broth and not just one.

“Here’s your broth,” you say, setting it on a cart with a tray that can move over the bed, “I’ll get you another pillow.” You grab two and bring them back, helping Seonghwa sit up as you move the bed to a more comfortable position. “Hello San,” you say as you make your way over to him. “You have a fractured leg, we weren’t able to cast it because of the open wound, so don’t move it too much, ok?”

San looks at you with wide eyes, watching your every move as you pull up a chair.

“I think we should talk about some things.” You say looking at both of them as you move a sleeve of crackers and a bowl of broth in front of San. “My name is Y/n, I own a clinic that helps hybrids, and this is a mini clinic in my basement that you are recovering in. The law states that when cases of abuse, such as yours are reported, you have to either be immediately adopted or go to hybrid services.” You watch as both hybrids tense and grasp each other’s hands, tears forming in their eyes, knowing hybrid services is not a good option and tears bonded hybrids apart. “I have decided to adopt you until the case is closed and you decide what you’d like to do next.”

“What we’d like to do next?” Seonghwa asks between sips of broth.

“If you want to earn your independence, I will help with that, or I can help you find a different owne-“

“You don’t want us?” San questions, sniffling as he stares at his food. You swear you see a tear fall and immediately think something happened with these two, mostly likely involving being rejected.

“I would be happy if you stayed, but if you didn’t like it here, I don’t want to force you to stay with me.” You respond, patting his hand that was on the side of the bed. “Now, eat, there are small bags next to the bowls in case you need to throw up. Once you are done and the food settles, I will help you shower, then, if you want, we can head upstairs. However, the IV will have to stay in.”

With that, you head upstairs to find some clothes that will fit both the hybrids. Luckily, you have a habit of buying clothes for men and women, including underwear, just in case you have an unexpected guest or something happens to a guests clothes. While you dig through your closet you call the psychologist that works at your clinic and discuss getting the two therapy appointments as soon as you can get them in condition to start walking. She asks you a few questions and you reply, immediately mentioning the comment San made about you not wanting them. She explains that they are raised to believe being owned if the best thing for them and the fact that you suggested removing them would have brought up potential years of previous rejection, plus whatever trauma they may have from whoever left them in the woods. On top of that, one or both of them could have a co-dependency issue. You grab some clothes, soaps, lotions, deodorant, toothbrushes, and toothpaste and head down stairs, asking one final question.

“I go to a conference next week that I can’t get out of because I am a presenter. Can I leave them here alone or should I take them with me?”

“That is up to you and how you feel they will do alone.” Cassie responds before hanging up, leaving you unsatisfied with her answer.

When you walk in the recovery room, you see both hybrids talking to each other, their hands still holding each other. You walk everything into the bathroom downstairs then join the two.

“So, I have some clothes for you two,” you say, gesturing to the bathroom where you put everything, “how about we get you cleaned up? San, I will have to help you because of your leg, I swear I won’t look at anything and will be 100% professional, but I can’t have you moving it wrong.”

“Can you help me too?” Seonghwa asks quietly.

“Sure, do you want to go first?”

“Can…Can we go to-together? I…I-I…”

“Yes, if you both want to be within sight of each other, that is fine.”

You get a wheelchair to take San to the bathroom and help him undress and wrap a towel around his waist, while Seonghwa gets himself ready. Seonghwa sits himself in the tub and relishes the hot water pouring on him while he vigorously scrubs all the dirt off his skin, flinching at the force he was using. Despite you giving them a sponge bath, it still wasn’t enough to remove everything. You tell San to wait, and turn on the hot shower head to pour over him and watch how almost instantly his body begins to relax. He takes the scrubby and soap and more carefully than Seonghwa, begins to wash his upper body.

“You’re going to hurt yourself,” you say to Seonghwa as you sit behind him, taking the scrubby and begin to help, using just enough pressure to clean everything off. “So, what breeds are you?”

“I’m a Lionhead rabbit,” Seonghwa declares proudly and you have to stop yourself from groaning, knowing how playful and mischievous those breeds can be.

“In other words,” You begin, carefully washing Seonghwa’s hair as he fully leans into you, moaning at how good it feels to get his scalp scrubbed, “I’m going to have my hands full with you.”

You smile at Seonghwa when he opens his eyes and looks at you, first with concern, then with warmth.

“I’ll be good, I promise.” He says closing his eyes again, his foot thumping when you scrub his ears, working the matts out of them and his hair.

“I’m sure you will be.” You finish his hair, both shampoo and conditioner, before rinsing him off and letting him soak under the spray, then head to San, who watched you scrub Seonghwa’s hair with a look of longing. “And what breed of hybrid are you, San?” You ask as he gets a look of excitement on his face while you pour shampoo in your hand.

“I’m a maine coon cat, and I’m a good boy,” he says purring the second your hands make contact with his head. “I’m not mean or intimidating.”

You could hear the pleading in his voice when he said that, and it told you that, though he was skinny, he had muscles, and his face had a look that could go two ways, one sweet and kind, or two intimidating and mean. But just looking in his eyes, like truly looking in his eyes, you could tell he was the sweet and kind person, no matter how people may have tried to portray him.

“I could tell that by your eyes,” you tell him, smiling, causing San to blush and look down.

He closes his eyes as you scrub his hair, giving him a scalp massage before rinsing him off and moving to his tail, carefully trying to work the matts out and when you couldn’t, cutting them out. Once he was cleaned, you let him sit under the spray as well, carefully examining his leg only to see the wound has sealed shut and the stitches dissolved.

You’ll say one thing, hybrid healing is both a gift and a curse. When properly hydrated and medicated and treated, the skin can take only 12 – 24 hours to heal when assisted by stitches. Unfortunately, people think that means a hybrid is healed, this leads to them being pushed beyond their limits and can sometimes be fatal. If the skin closes too fast, it can trap infections inside, and hide other injuries, luckily, San was already treated.

“Your leg looks good, San.” You say, looking up at him, causing him to look down at you and also catching Seonghwa’s attention. “The wound is closed, but the bone won’t have healed yet, so you have to remember to be careful. Both of you,” you look at Seonghwa to make sure he understands as well, and he nods. “Now, you can either stay down here, or we can try moving you to a bedroom upstairs, once you’re done getting dressed?”

“Can…we go upstairs?” Seonghwa asks hesitantly.

“Of course, this is your house too, you can move about it freely, though very carefully until San’s leg is healed.” You say, helping both hybrids dry their hair, ears, and tails. “Can you get dressed yourselves?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll be outside.”

You walk outside of the bathroom and change into dry clothes, then grab a set of crutches for San to walk around on. You want to do one more x-ray on his leg before you take him upstairs, to see how fast the healing has progressed and whether you should cast it or boot it. Once they come out, you help San to the x-ray machine and take the images, Seonghwa glued to your side. Luckily, his leg looks much better, a week and a half and he should be completely healed. Carefully, you put a walking boot on his leg, all the way up to his knee and hand him the crutches, for him to use for the next two days.

Helping both of them upstairs, you show them the rooms, gym, library, living room, kitchen, and garage, before taking to the the top floor with the bedrooms.

“Ok, you both get to choose your own room,” you say smiling at them once they look at the first room. Both hybrids look at each other in slight panic before you continue. “You can visit and sleep in each other’s rooms, but I firmly believe in having your own space. So choose a room and we can look at decorations and clothes for you.”

It took a while, but both hybrids finally chose a room to call their own. You handed each a tablet to look at furniture and room design ideas, as well as shop for clothes, and you went to your own room. It was only 8pm but as soon as your head hit the pillow you were out cold.

___________________________________________________________

Your eyes begin to open as you hear rapid thumping coming from somewhere. Sleepily standing up, you walk out of your room only to hear it stop. Waiting a few minutes, you head back to your room and collapse on the bed again, snuggling under the covers. As you begin to drift off, you hear a loud crash of thunder, followed by very heavy, rapid thumps again. Listening closely you realize it is coming from under your bed.

Rolling off your bed, you grab your phone and turn on the light, seeing a cat and rabbit under there, the rabbit thumping his foot on the ground after another crash of thunder. Both hybrids trembling in fear.

“Hey guys, it’s ok, nothing to be afraid of,” you coo to them, reaching a hand out, causing both to approach you. “You are welcome to come cuddle on my bed with me if you want, in human form or animal, either is fine.”

With that you stand and lay on your bed, waiting to see what they would do. It doesn’t take long for you to feel the weight of them jumping on your bed, before they make their way up to where the blanket starts, scratching at it. You lift the covers and both dive inside, just as another thunder clap occurs. You turn on your side and snuggle back into your bed, slowly falling asleep, letting your two hybrids get comfortable.

A few hours later, you wake up, feeling a weight against your stomach. Lifting the blanket, you see two hybrids curled up against you, sound asleep. Carefully, so not to disturb them, you sneak out of bed and head to the showers, realizing the storm had past and it was a bright sunny day out. Once you showered, you checked back on the hybrids and then went downstairs to purchase some things the two of them would like in their animal forms.

“Good morning,” Seonghwa mumbled, walking into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes, a sleepy San following behind him and collapsing into the dining room chair.

“Good morning, Seonghwa, and San,” you reply smiling back at them, “are you hungry?”

“A little,” San whispered, still half asleep.

“I can make eggs, bacon, and hashbrowns, or oatmeal. I don’t really have any other options yet.” You respond standing up and walking to the kitchen.

“Can I help?” Seonghwa asks, following you and you nod, allowing him to get everything out of the fridge and freezer.

He wanted to do everything himself, so you stood by, directing him on how to cook. While San moved around on his crutches.

“What’s this?” San asks, looking at your laptop, open to your recent shopping receipts.

“Ah, I bought some things for the two of you in your animal forms. Cat trees, tall and short, shelves with railings so Seonghwa won’t fall off, and tunnels that can be mounted high and low, as well as some hiding nooks.” You reply ignoring the look of shock on both hybrids faces as you explain what you bought for them. “They will be here in 2 days and you can help set them up and where you want them. I’m sure I bought enough that they can connect almost every room in the house.” After you finished speaking, San’s face lit up and Seonghwa’s foot started thumping on the ground excitedly, both of them trying to hid their excitement, but failing to do so.

It continued like this for the next week, you slowly grew closer to the two hybrids learning that they are the type to trust easily, which breaks your heart. You had both help you set up the cat shelves, tunnels cat trees, and let them set up their hiding nooks by themselves. They were so excited to be involved in the process. You also had them buy their own bedroom decorations and furniture and took them shopping for clothes. San had a sporty look, while Seonghwa enjoyed something similar, but also really liked more delicate style clothing. You were ok with whatever they wanted, as long as they actually wore it. They were also excited to start going to the gym. Though San couldn’t use his leg below his knee, you helped him with arm and ab workouts and exercises made for people in a chair, slow leg lifts that wouldn’t bother his healing but still something he could do. Seonghwa jumped right into everything and you had to slow him down, explaining that going too fast could cause more damage than good. By Friday at the end of the week, you sat them down, to discuss you leaving for the next week.

“You’re leaving us?” San asks, sounding panicked, almost ready to have a panic attack.

“It will only be for a few days and I will call you every morning and every night, we can even do a video chat if you want.”

“We’ll be alone?” Seonghwa asks, playing with the air of the table, only glancing at you.

“I can have someone stop in, in fact he helped me care for you the first night.”

“No,” San interrupts, clearing his throat before beginning again, “We…would rather be alone.”

“Can’t we go with you?” Seonghwa questions.

“I’m afraid there are no hybrid friendly hotels in the area, at least not one that would be kind to either of you.” You shudder at the thought of what could happen to your two hybrids in the hotels while you were gone, before continuing. “I will be 8 hours away, if something happens I can rush home, but it will only be for three days. The fridge is filled with food and I have emergency numbers written on it.” You reach out and take both of their hands, “I promise, I will be back. I will not abandon you.”

With that, they stare into your eyes before nodding. The next few days those two were the cuddliest creatures you ever met, and when you left, San started crying while Seonghwa’s eyes filled with tears, but they did not fall while you could see him. You started to miss them before they disappeared from view as you made your way to the airport, deciding to fly so it was a faster trip there and back.

__________________________________________________________

“Inside now,” the man sneers at his hybrid, causing the hybrids breath to catch in his throat.

“B-but master, the cage is too small, the only way I’ll fit is if you break something,” the hybrid begins, being cut off by his master.

“So we’ll break something. Get in now, or I swear I WILL cut your legs off this time!” The man growls, gripping the hybrids neck.

The hybrid’s eyes go wide and he nods the best he could, quickly crawling into the cage that is far too small for his body. He had to contort himself into an uncomfortable position to fit so the door would close, however, his foot blocked the way of the door. His master didn’t care and slammed the door shut, jamming the hybrids knee into his nose, causing it to bleed, and causing a loud crack from his, foot filling the hybrids body with intense pain. However, that wasn’t all, with the angle of his body in such a small space, his legs put pressure on his chest that made it hard for the hybrid to breathe.

“Don’t make a sound.” The man sneers walking away, leaving the hybrid to suffer.

You felt like you had been walking for hours by the time you made it to the lounge, flopping yourself in the comfortable chair by the windows. This week stressed you out and all you want to do is go home and relax with your hybrids. You place your phone on the chair arm, but it fell onto the floor. When you reach down to grab it, you saw something under the table next to you that made you curious. Moving down to the floor, you see it is a large hybrid, crammed in a small cage, his body contorted in a grotesque position so he could fit, his nose bleeding, and his breathing shallow and labored, eyes closed tightly in an effort to calm himself.

“Nice hybrid isn’t he,” a man says from behind you.

You’re staring at the hybrids face, he opens his eyes and you see the silent plea for help before he closes them again, tears falling down his face.

“He is,” you reply, standing up, “you wouldn’t be interested in selling him would you?”

“You wanna buy him?”

“Yes, I quit like collecting hybrids when they catch my eyes,” you reply, sitting on the chair, staring at the man with a coy smile, trying to feign a calm detachment to the situation. “Right now, your hybrid caught my eye.”

“I’ve tried selling him before, but no one wants a hybrid his size.”

“Oh, what do you mean?”

“He’s 6”1 or 6”3, I don’t really know, and no one wants something so tall.”

“I do. How much?”

“10,000.”

You internally wince at the price, you have the money, but no matter what, $10,000 is a lot to spend. “9 he seems to have a broken nose, it ruins his pretty face.”

“95 and I throw in the cage.”

“9 and I don’t walk away from this. Like you said, no one else wants him.”

“Fine, $9,000. Would you like me to ship him to you o-”

“I will transfer the money to you now and we run across the street and get him legally transferred to me.”

“Deal. Sir,” the man turns to the concierge, “watch the hybrid, and don’t let anyone take him.”

After a half hour, you have a key to the cage and the owner is shipping it to the hotel you just ordered a room at. By the time you arrive, after ordering an uber, you enter your room, throwing your things on the floor as you approach your new hybrid.

“Hi,” you say, as you unlock the cage door, the hybrid watching you with scared eyes, “my name is Y/N, I guess I’m your new owner.”

You open the door and stand back, letting the hybrid untangle himself to get out, but then you notice he’s having trouble. Carefully, you reach in the cage and reposition his legs, slightly pulling them straighter, so he can unbend himself. Meanwhile, you go to the bathroom to get a warm wet cloth to clean his face.

“What’s your name?” You ask, walking back to the room and seeing him sitting on the floor. Slowly you lower yourself in front of him and begin cleaning the blood from his nose.

“Yunho,” he replies, sitting quietly as you examine his face.

“Good news is your nose isn’t actually broken, just a little swollen,” you look down and see his ankle sitting at an odd angle. “What happened to your foot?”

“I don’t know,” Yunho whispers looking away, clenching his fists as he stares at his leg.

“Ok, we’re taking you to a hybrid urgent care,” you state as you order another uber to the nearest hybrid treatment location. Getting a few things together, and calling to see if the front desk has a spare wheelchair to wheel Yunho to a car, you watch him carefully during that time. He doesn’t make a move at all. Soon your phone dings letting you know your uber is here, followed by a knock on the door. With the help of the bellman, you lift Yunho into the wheelchair, then head to the car. It’s not a long drive, and once Yunho is settled in at the doctor and wheeled away for x-rays, you call San and Seonghwa.

Previous Chapter

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Taglist: @sunnysidesins, @the-secret-thief

[lesbianralzarek]

do you ever think about how karlach was probably a "bad guy" (massive oversimplification of a complex character) before we met her? the people who knew her As A Person seemed to really like her As A Person, but when she was on the clock? she was gortash's bodyguard, and she liked it. shes angry looking back on it, but thats because she was busting heads for gortash, not because she was busting heads. which she was. its naive to assume she was an innocent bystander who knew nothing about any of his shady shit. she wasnt standing by the door holding bouquets of lilies while gortash negotiated rescuing cats from trees. gortash didnt think shed be a good fit for the job of zariel's killing machine because he saw her open a jar of pickles. karlach. did. bad. shit. and she liked it up until the leopard ate her face

do you ever think about how she wasnt able to literally afford her morals before we met her? she grew up poor and no doubt faced tons of hiring discrimination as a tiefling in baldur's gate. remember what she said about how she once thought gortash respected her, and what a huge deal that was? we dont know if she wouldve chosen a different job if she had options, but we do know she didnt have options. when we meet her however? she has options. she just miraculously escaped avernus right after having disobeyed zariel. she had her hands (metaphorically) chained to her battle axe for 10 years, but suddenly she can make meaningful moral choices. spoilers for her origin run, but its implied she knows shes terminal long before dammon says so. she doesnt always know what the right thing is, but she knows shes running out of time, and she knows she wants to dedicate what life she has left to live in the service of being everything she never got to be

do you ever think about how she wants to be remembered as better than she was? because i think about that a lot. i think that, in order to truly appreciate who karlach is by the time she wets her axe on gortash, you cant ignore who she once was. you only see her true strength once you know zariel's living weapon had to fight to be soft

[majestyeverlasting]

hi writer! i love your fics :)

would you be down to write a fem!reader x eddie munson fic where eddie and reader go to a concert together for the first time & have their first kiss? i thought that’d be super cute, but write whatever feels right! thank you 💗

𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

Pairing Eddie Munson x Female Reader

Summary It’s a summer of firsts—your first road trip, concert, and kiss with Eddie. And you can feel in your bones that it's only the beginning of forever [fluff, 3.8k].

A/N Hi, anon! I loved this request so much. It went through a couple iterations before I settled on what felt right, but now it's finally here. Thank you for your patience. Enjoy!

.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・．

The lone call of a mourning dove registers as a distant beckon on the outskirts of your consciousness. It’s an airy, flute-like melody that seems to grow nearer as you’re coaxed further into wakefulness. Hardly any sunlight streams into the room, only a dull glow that rims the black curtains. As your eyes flutter open, you trace the Iron Maiden posters on the opposite wall before diverting your gaze to the base of Eddie’s dresser, where your packed duffle bag rests on the floor. 

Closing your eyes once again, you tuck your face back into the pillow. It smells like Eddie. A subtle fusion of pine, citrus, and the earthy notes of his skin. However, when you extend a blind arm to run alongside you on the mattress, the warm weight of his presence isn’t there. 

As if sensing your wakefulness, he saunters into the bedroom a couple seconds later. Artificial light pours in from the hallway, and a weak, disgruntled sound rises up your throat. 

He hears it. Of course he hears it. He reckons he’d be attuned to you even if he were miles away. But that doesn’t stop him from walking over and turning on the lamp on the nightstand too. You don’t have a chance to tug the covers over your head because he stills you the second your fingers curl around them. 

“Eddie,” you whine as you squint against the light. 

He squats beside the bed so he’s face to face with you. There’s a sleepy softness to his own gaze, but the upturn of his lips suggests he’s managed to tap into a well of energy within himself. Maybe not the deepest one, but sufficient enough to be unbothered by the fact that the red numbers on the alarm clock display a quarter past seven-o-clock. 

He’s already dressed for the day ahead. Blue jeans, black tee, and silver chain around his neck.

“Time to get up,” he coaxes. You can smell the mint toothpaste on his breath. ���Nashville’s waiting for us, sweetheart.” 

He brushes a gentle knuckle across your warm cheek as his eyes briefly flit to your pouty lips. His touch is enough to cut through the remainder of slumber’s haze, reminding you of how excited you are to hit the open road with him for the very first time. 

••• 

It’s easy being with Eddie. You knew that way before you set off for Tennessee. It’s in the soft gazes he casts your way, the steady weight of his hand on your thigh, his curls as they wisp in the wind. Few people come around and make it feel as though you've known them a lifetime. 

Aside from the asphalt of the road, there’s so much green all around, like you’re cocooned in it. Sunlight plays through the trees lining either side as they glide past the windows. You’ve never seen Hoosier National Forest this way, fresh and alive in the early morning light.

Thirty-five minutes into the trip, and an appreciative silence has already fallen between you. The radio plays a hits station down low, and every once in awhile you find yourself humming along to a familiar tune as you gaze outside. 

A folded map rests in your lap, but Eddie hasn’t asked for directions since you left his trailer. It wasn’t news to you anymore, but he was scarily good at making his way around Southern Indiana. He could recall highway names and exit numbers with impressive ease. An acquired skill from moving around with his mom in his youth, skimming maps, and being a good listener when he wanted to be. 

Back when you first became friends, you were surprised to learn that he’d memorized the way to your house after one visit. At night, no less. He claimed it was because he had a pretty worthwhile incentive in you. 

As you continue cruising through the forest, Eddie’s fingers tap an absentminded beat on the steering wheel as his rings catch the light. It’s enough to draw your gaze from the window to study his lean, well-worn hands. The hands of a mechanic. There’s a grace to them too, even after years of fights he never started but always finished.

Thankfully, these days were different, as if the fog had lifted and people began to realize he was more than the rambunctiousness and rough edges they’d build around him in their minds. 

You were once part of the crowd that wondered and wondered some more about Eddie. But as surely as the stars shine in the night sky, getting close to him meant finally seeing the true picture of the boy who, day by day, is stealing more of your heart.

He can feel your gaze on him, but his eyes remain on the road as he bites back a smile.  

•••

Forty miles out from the motel, Eddie takes an exit off the highway and pulls into a Marathon station. A few other cars are parked at gas pumps and in front of the convenience store. The sudden stillness, paired with a gentle shake of your shoulder, prompts your eyes to flutter open. 

Eddie flashes a smile over at you as he unbuckles his seatbelt. “Mornin’, sunshine—again.” He reaches over to give your thigh a light squeeze. 

Before he can pull away, you take his hand in yours. “Sorry,” you murmur through a yawn. “I’m supposed to be keeping you company.” 

Eddie shakes his head. “You are,” he assures. “Even when you look like this,” he tips his head against the headrest with his eyes closed and mouth wide open. 

A snort escapes you, and you let go of his hand in favor of punching his shoulder. The blow isn’t nearly hard enough to hurt, but he massages his arm with a wince. 

“I don’t look like that,” you say through a laugh. 

“No,” he sighs in agreement. “You’re way cuter. Can’t even take it.” His lips curl into a grin, but you can see the sincerity in his eyes even then. 

Warmth rises to your cheeks as you bite your lip to keep from smiling wider. 

“Especially when you smile like that,” he says. 

This time, you gently push his shoulder. “Okay, stop, go pump gas,” you whine halfheartedly. 

He laughs as he slips out of the van and you miss him when he shuts the door behind himself. While he’s outside, you push your feet back into your Keds and adjust your shirt on your shoulders. 

Eddie eventually knocks on the driver’s side window and goofily mimes that he’s going to go inside. When he sees you turn to get out, he jogs around the front of the van to open your door for you. 

There’s a gentle breeze outside. The sun shines in an overcast sky. As soon as your feet hit the ground, you stretch your arms above your head, back arching in the process. Eddie’s eyes drift down to where your baby tee has rises to expose a sliver of your skin. 

You catch him, but all he does is meet your gaze with a soft smile. Fondness sparkles in the dark pools of his eyes like tiny stars. 

“All set?” He offers you his hand and you take it. 

You swing his arm as you begin walking. “You gonna buy me Sour Powers?”

“Whatever you want,” he promises, leading you towards the convenience store and whatever comes next. 

•••

Further away on the shoreline of Barren River Lake, children play in colorful swimsuits and bucket hats as they enjoy the still waters. Parents watch them wade and splash from blankets and folding chairs lined on the sand. 

Eddie stands with his back leaning against the side of the van, legs crossed and a bottle of Jolt Cola raised to his lips. There’s something about his lax stance, the intricate inkwork on his arms, the way his rings catch the sun. 

Despite the few other travelers who have pulled off the highway for a breather, his gaze remains on you. Though it’s not overtly clear through the dark lenses of his sunglasses, you have a hunch. It’s in the gradual upturn of his lips as you get closer, shorts riding slightly up your thighs.

By the time you position yourself directly in front of him, you’re able to confirm his pupils are fixed on you. Upon playfully leaning into his face, you’re met with the full brunt of his smile. It’s a little boyish and goofy, but all the more charming. 

“Hey, pretty,” he says before taking another sip. He licks away the excess that settles in the divot of his cupid’s bow. 

“Hi,” you say through a smile of your own. “How much longer do we have left?” 

“We’re about seventy-five miles out,” he thinks aloud. “So probably about an hour and a half, give or take.” 

You hum in acknowledgement, and reach out to fix a stray strand of his hair, then use that as an excuse to brush your fingertips along the stubble of his jaw in a featherlight sweep. The gentle attention makes his eyelashes flutter. 

“Stay right here,” you tell him. 

Eddie purses his lips but obeys, watching as you quickly round to the passenger side. When you come back, his Uncle Wayne’s black Polaroid camera is cradled in your grip like a prized possession. You hadn’t even asked to bring it, just plucked it off the shelf in their living room because it had already become just as much yours. 

You position yourself a couple yards away, and shuffle to the side until you’re aligned with Eddie. Even with the sincerity of your enthusiastic smile, an ember of self-consciousness flickers within him. Or maybe awareness is a better word. The awareness that the way he is in this moment, slightly tired with mussed hair from traveling, will live on forever. It’s a small price to pay for the invaluable notion of a memory. He’d never be this young on a road trip to Nashville with you again. 

“How do you want me, sweetheart?” he asks. 

“Just the way you are,” you say as you lift the viewfinder to your eye. 

His shoulders relax as he smiles. Something small and soft, just for you. 

•••

Melodic. That’s the way your laughter sounds as it arises. Eddie can feel your breath on his ear as your arms remain wrapped around his waist from behind. It does nothing to help with the way he fumbles to get the key in the motel room door. They’d already clinked to the ground once. Because you’re poking at him, and giggling, and making it impossible for him to focus. Warmth swells in his chest nonetheless because he quite likes you this way, giddy from your time on the road. He doesn’t hear his own exasperated laughter because yours drowns it out and swallows it whole. 

When he manages to get the maroon door unlocked, he pushes it open, but misses your touch as you let your arms fall from around him in a playful semblance of defeat. The faint scent of lemongrass welcomes you as you trail him into the modest room. A queen-sized bed is the centerpiece of the space, and you take in the tan, patterned comforter. The low, burgundy carpet. The popcorn ceiling. 

Eddie sets the key on the TV stand and props his hands on his hips as he peers over at you. There’s a pensive expression on your face as you push the curtains open further, letting more light in. For a second, nervousness rises in his gut. This isn’t the top of the line. Maybe if you squinted and dreamed, it could be something more. But not by any honest assessment of reality. It wasn’t supposed to be. One day he’d give you that experience. For now you have this. Cozy, familiar, and intimate. 

You smile teasingly when you meet his eyes again. “I know what we’re doing tonight,” you say, and Eddie waits for you to continue. “Mapping out our own constellations.”

A chuckle escapes him because he already knows you’re referring to the dotted nature of the ceiling. The crinkles by his eyes make you bite back a grin as you step closer to give him a proper hug. His strong arms give you a good, steady squeeze and, before long, you’ve closed your eyes and nuzzled into his shirt. There’s a faint tickle at your lower back as his fingers slip beneath the hem of your shirt to stroke the bare skin. You could fall asleep just like this, standing in his arms, in the room that would be your home away from home for the next several days. It was perfect. All of it. This motel, the moment, him. 

Even though he insists you don’t have to, you venture back outside with him to bring your bags inside. It’s an excuse to admire the afternoon sky, not a single cloud in sight. A handful of cars are scattered within the parking lot. Across the way, there’s a fenced pool with a lone beach ball floating in the turquoise water. There’s a sleepy aliveness to it all. Each tiny sign of life mindful enough to not demand attention. The sound of car engines carries from the main throughway nearby.

“Hey, sweetheart?” Eddie calls out to you. 

Duffle bag slung over your shoulder, you join him at the back of the van. You wrinkle your nose when you see that he’s holding the camera. 

“Uh oh,” you say playfully. “Is it my turn?” 

When he nods, you do a quick scan for cars before backing up to strike a pose, one hand on your hip and the other extending towards the everlasting sky. The quick flicker of the flash seals the moment in time. 

•••

Later that night, Eddie watches you wash your face at the sink—albeit upside down. He lays stretched out on the bed with his head tipped backwards over the edge. Blood has begun to rush to his face, but he remains unfazed. Warm lamplight fills the room. The TV remains off, both of you having long given up on the lacklaster channel selection. A couple carry out bags from the diner down the road sit on the table. 

When you finish and pad back over to him, you playfully pinch his nostrils together, just long enough for him to make a muffled sound. The second you let go, he sits upright in an air of amusement and surprise. His curls are a fluffy, beautiful mess that he pushes out of his eyes. 

“I’m calling the cops,” he announces. “That was attempted murder.” 

“Premeditated, even,” you supply, unable to keep from smiling. 

Eddie swivels so that his legs hang over the bed, socked feet meeting the floor. “Here I was thinking you liked me.” 

“I’m afraid not.” You carefully step between his legs. “It’s all been an act.” You bring your hands to his head and comb through his curls, gently working through loose tangles that fall out easily. 

Eddie’s eyes flutter closed as he leans into your touch. You note how long his dark eyelashes are, how his lips part just so as his breathing steadies. He almost complains when you stop, but the gentle brush of your thumb across his lower lip silences him. 

Looking back up at you, there’s tenderness in your gaze alongside something a little braver and wanting. But it keeps itself tucked away, and he’s willing to let it remain in hiding if it means it’ll bloom into action when the time comes. 

“Well, I like you,” Eddie says, reaching out to snap the waistband of your satin pajama shorts. There’s an honest sparkle in his eyes, if not tinged with a hint of shyness. 

Then he keeps talking, “There’s this really cool band playing at the Lantern Room down on Lower Broadway tomorrow night. They do covers and some of their own stuff. I think you’d dig their vibe…” 

You hum in interest, so he continues. 

“And I just so happen to have two tickets,” he says, eyes softening even as a smirk pulls at his lips. “But, you know, if you don’t like me…”

“I do like you,” you murmur. “A lot. Probably an embarrassing amount.” 

You wouldn’t be surprised if, years from now, archaeologists find that fact written in stone. 

••• 

All of Lower Broadway buzzes with life. Pedestrians flutter about beneath the glow of neon lights. Music and laughter pour out of each door that opens. Back in Hawkins, places were only ever this alive on TV, in the movies, or somewhere else that seemed far, far away. The two of you let it soak. Let it settle beneath your skin and keep the pleasant flutter of excitement alive in your chests. A line of people file out of a larger venue at the end of the block. The illuminated sign out front catches your attention as it shines. 

River Gold at The Lantern Room, one night only.

Inside the Lantern Room, it’s a whole new world. The same frenetic energy of the night exists, but as a steadier, more sophisticated version of itself. Warm, overhead lights cast their glow, and short staircases on either side of the establishment lead down to the lower portion of the floor.

An older man with a long gray ponytail improvises a relaxed tune on the piano as people continue to get situated. Over at the bar, patrons sip on cocktails and whiskeys. 

Eddie leads you through it all, holding your hand so you don’t get separated in the crowd. As you take in the the dark wood of the high ceiling and the decorated walls, you almost miss him calling your name. 

“Sorry,” you say as you give him your attention. “What were you saying?” It feels like you’re raising your voice over the chatter, but you can’t tell.

Eddie chuckles, but doesn't miss a beat. “You look painfully pretty in that dress.” Warmth blooms in your cheeks, but then he says what he’d actually been trying to ask, “Where do you wanna sit?” 

You pout with a small shrug. “Close to the stage?” you say. “But maybe not too close—I don’t know. What do you think?” 

He guides the two of you down a short set of stairs to the main floor seating, where plush lounge chairs are arranged in pairs, separated by small, round tables. 

It isn’t long before River Gold takes the modest stage. Applause crescendos through the room. Eddie smiles over at you to find that your eyes are aglow as they’re fixed on the stage. 

The group is composed of four members. A tall man with a short, neatly shaped afro and flared jeans steps up to the foremost microphone. A cherry red acoustic guitar hangs over his shoulder, and he strums a low, nonchalant series of notes. 

“Thank y'all very much for the warm welcome,” he says, a smirk curling at his lips as he gazes around the room. The subtle eyeliner on his lower lashline accentuates his dark eyes.

“I’m Leon, and that’s Matty, Rocko, and Erika.” He points to the drummer, bassist, and pianist respectively, each receiving a quick swell of applause. 

“And we’re River Gold.” More claps and whistles arise. “This ain’t Beale Street but we’re gonna show y'all how we do it back in Memphis.” You smile when a particularly loud cluster of cheers arises from a group seated somewhere behind you. 

“We got a good show for y'all tonight,” he says, beginning to strum the opening notes of Stand by Me. “Don’t be shy to sing along.”

Leon lets the guitar hum under his voice before he leans into the mic to croon the opening verse, “When the night has come…” 

A cheer goes up as the rest of the band falls in behind him, smooth like honey. The thrum of the bass, the steady shuffle of the drums, the laxity of the rhythm. It already sounds like heaven. 

And it only gets better.

•••

Prince, The Rolling Stones, Tina Turner, Queen—River Gold sings covers from them all. With a couple of their own songs in the mix. Through it all, the crowd is wrapped under their spell. 

The two of you are closer to the bar now, standing behind a stretch of railing near the staircase. Eddie’s body is steady behind you as his hands rest on your hips, gently swaying to one of their soulful original songs, South of Forever. You close your eyes as the music washes over you. The drums vibrate through your chest. The gentle press of Eddie’s fingertips at your waistline anchors you to the moment. 

It isn’t long before something soft and plush tentatively meets the delicate skin behind your ear, accompanied by a puff of breath and the gentle tickle of hair. A beat later, another kiss grazes the shell of your ear. You fear that moving will make him pull away, but your shiver betrays you. Your eyes flutter open on the off chance you've slipped into a dream. 

When you peek back at Eddie, he's already looking at you. His heart beats faster in his chest. There’s a weight to his gaze, but you can bear it. A strong tug within you prompts you to turn around in his arms. 

Eddie strokes a gentle finger across your cheek before leaning, pressing his lips to yours. Warmth floods your chest at the newness of it all, the calculated softness of his lips as they move against yours. For a fraction of a second, he fears he doesn’t know what he’s doing, that he was too rash. But it’s easy with you. He can feel your fingertips steady themselves on his cheek before slipping around to scratch at the nape of his neck. 

If it’s one thing he’s ever been sure about, it’s you. And maybe that’s why he hadn’t kissed you sooner. Uncertainty had driven him to act fast for so much of his life, but never with you. He never felt the need to rush into anything out of fear it would fall apart. He knew you weren’t going anywhere. That you had time. That he’d know when the moment was right. 

Here, tonight, with you, he could feel it in his bones. That inner voice guiding a pull he couldn’t resist. 

For the few seconds the kiss lasts, it feels like you’re floating somewhere in the clouds. Far above Nashville and the rest of the world. Suspended outside of time and space. 

As Eddie slowly pulls away, Leon’s voice is there to welcome you back down to earth. 

“Just South of Forever…no lights in the rearview…recklessly ‘head with you.” 

(concert setlist visual)

-

Thank you so much for reading! All likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. I promise I see them all!

MORE EDDIE

ALL MASTERLISTS

[bahngnxxx]

୧ ‧₊🎧 No turning back once we’re connected. 

Dentist bangchan x !f!paitent 

author's note: I was at the dentist and I was sleepy asf, but then this fineass doctor came in and absolutely PENATRATED my mouth with his hands and that got me thinking about bangchan, since earlier i was watching thirst traps before entering the appointment lol. Im ovulating so i jus wanna get straight to the smut... pls spare me, this is my first fic. Ill write better ones, not just pure smut. TmT Anygays, enjoy!! 

word count: 5.3k 

warnings: (NOT PROOF RED) p in v (unprotected, NAURRR) vaginal creampie, multiple orgasms, fem overstimulation, nipple pinching/biting, biting overall, vaginal fingering, eating out (both fxm), dirty talk, slight sadism, spanking, squirting, possible impregnation, dry humping, a bit of piss, clitplay.. Too lazy to list anymore. Lmk if sumn catches your eye, but overall this is just a really filthy one.🤷‍♀️ 

A cold, chilling woosh of air hits you, the automatic doors swinging open, the gentle cool breeze of the AC brushing against your skin, causing a slight grow of goosebumps against you. You clocked in at the entrance for your first dentist appointment after 3 months of being abroad, so the difference between the humid air of palm springs and the cool contrasting air of Canada really didn’t sit well with you. You were still jetlagged too, so maybe you could shut your eyes during your appointment, I don’t think the doctor would mind. You don’t think you could keep your eyes open for any longer, anyways. 

You gently sat down on a coach in the distance. You had booked an appointment down near the south, suburb corner of town. The places lounge was small, crowded, but managed to still have a nice cozy essence to it, a tv table at front, small beige couches stacked all around, plants and trees hanging off from the wooden plated walls and light spruce floors, the scent of minty Colgate mixed with a fresh smell of coffee filling the lounge. You nuzzled into the pale couch, scrolling away on your phone to some k-pop thirst traps on your free time, adjusting the bra strap that hung out of your off shouldered white sweater, clinging around your curves slightly, your body slumped down lazily, legs spread out shamelessly, until a doctor had called out for you, startling you. You stood up straight, brushing off yourself before bowing down apologetically, following the lady down a long hall, until you had arrived to the room.  

As usual, the room was white like an asylum, a long chair centered in the middle of the chaos, a large light gazing over it as well as a tv attached to the ceiling. There was a crack of golden sunlight peeking through the room, giving a nice crisp color to it. You laid down onto the seat as the doctor told you to, and did the average things like plucking and tapping at your teeth with a bunch of pointy gadgets, blah blah, the usual. She then nodded and went outside the room, assumingly calling your new doctor. 

Ever since you had switched to the southern side of town, and doing things, there seemed to be a lot of Koreans working in the area, not that you were complaining, and you had a suspicion for your new doctor. He went by Chris, or Christopher, but you did a little digging to catch a glimpse of the name ‘Bang Chan’ and that unleashed a fantasy in you, so you’d hope that you would get a nice Korean doctor. You were single and in your mid-twenties anyways, it’s time you’d find a partner.  

You heard some shuffling in the halls, and they approached closer before a black heeled shoe entered the room, then another, and then he popped into the room. A man who looked a year or two older then you, his hair a crisp black and middle parted, going down to his neck, slightly shaggy and curly, his eyes wide and kind, but also so seducing in a way, his nose larger than usual and a diamond piercing on one side, as well as small hoops in his ears and a chain around his thick slender neck, and oh my gosh, he had his coat off, and had this BODY CLENCHING black shirt on, revealing the massive tits and curved abs he had. His lips were large and plump, nothing like you’ve seen before, his tongue slightly out as his eyes slowly crept their way towards your gaze, his mouth crinkling into a jaw dropping smile, dimples forming on both sides of his cheeks, his aegyo Sal puffing up and his eyes wrinkling on the sides as he did. His eyes formed to small crescents as he smiled, a kind twinkle in them. HOLY FUCK.  

Your jaw was dropped. You sat there on the long chair, your body hunched over as you stared at him with wide eyes, you looked like an idiot, honestly. He let out a breathless chuckle as he walked over to you, spinning the scaler perfectly in between his gloved, veiny hands. “So how’ya doing today?”  

He spoke in a deep, but kind voice, with a rich Australian accent. You let out a stuttered, shy response as he pumped the seat downwards until you were lying flat, his face towering over yours, only his eyes visible now, the mask covering the rest. “U-uh yeah, I’m good.. How about you..?” 

 He smiled back down at you, his chest heaving over your head as he moved the strands of messy hair off of your face, sending heat through your abdomen through your stomach. It felt like there were butterflies—no, birds flying in your stomach. You bit on your lower lip, as he set a gentle thumb on your chin. “Hmm, pretty good, thanks. How ‘bout you open wide for me, yeah?” 

 and you almost immediately followed his command, widening your jaw, a line of spit against your tongue and tooth. Two of his fingers entered your jaw, coated in your spit as he pressed down on your tongue lightly. You were ovulating too, so this didn’t make it any better at all. You held back a whimper, fighting demons against yourself. You fidgeted with your hands below your lap, curling your feet upwards, and he could sense your nervousness, letting out small breathy laughs. “Good girl, relax. I’m not gonna eat’chya.”  

and again, immediately, your body loosened--almost a little too much—going limp and melting under his words. There was a calm jazz playing over the radio, the crisp golden sunlight hitting his blazing eyes, and ever so lightly brushing against his black, curled locks.  

All through his work, he didn’t seem to be paying attention to your mouth, not at all, honestly. He just kept staring into your eyes, his eyes crinkled up ever so slightly, meaning that he must still have a smile under his face. He just wouldn’t stop smiling, it staying, his intense gaze remaining on you as he tapped on each of your teeth, his fingers tracing around your mouth, exploring it. His eyes just got heavier and heavier on you, narrowing slightly down subtly before he stood up and grabbed those mini mirror things up from a shelf, unwrapping it from its shell and discarding of the flimsy plastic before he shone that damn light from above onto you, blinding you. You squinted at the light before looking back at him. He provided some sort of shadow from the light, so you relied on staring at him back, since you didn't really have any other choice.  

The wind outside started to densen up, the once sunny outside sending a dark shadow through the room, the dim lamp now being your only support of light. You hated the light at first, but now you were holding onto your dear life with it. You don’t think you could survive farther then 5 more minutes, or you would go wild. You clenched your thighs shut tight, which he immediately and shamelessly switched his attention to. His eyes narrowed further at your legs, his seducing gaze running up and down them. Theres no way that your dentist is doing this. No way hes checking you out, but no matter how much you denied it, he totally was. He looked back up at you, now only one of his eyes crinkled, his eyebrow cocked up. “Something bothering you?” 

 he spoke in a low, more breathy tone now, taking his hands out of your mouth and sliding his gloves off, his veiny hands now clear to you. You breathe caught in your throat as you let out a shakey response.  

“You.” you whispered; you don’t know why you said that. You slapped a hand over your mouth, your eyes slightly wide, cheeks turning red, and almost immediately, Chan smiled deviously, removing his mask and closing the door behind him, sitting back on the wheelie chair, spinning back to you, his hands now levitating over your chest. “Hm? What was that? Couldn’t quite hear you.”  

You let out a hitched breath, your eyes fluttering shut halfway as your back arched towards his hands until you were now sitting up, lodged up against the chair in a restrained position, both his veiny slender forearms propped up in the crevasses of your waist. “Gettin’ comfy, hm? If you want it, say it.”  

“P-please Bang Chan.”  

he let out that deep, incredibly sexy chuckle, smooth as butter, and almost instantly did your panties fill with a gush of arousal. With that, his final strings of restraint tore apart, his mouth drifting over to yours, his lips lush against your thirsted tongue. He fought a rough battle with your mouth, his tongue darting delving deeper into you, exploring every inch of your wet throat, his fingers now grazing over and under your thick sweater, pulling your shirt up with a swipe as he unclipped your bra with one veiny hand, still working at your mouth. His rough thumbs drifting over your plump bottom lip, extending your jaw for deeper access. His lips parted away from yours, his breath growly and panting before he looked up at you with that damned, deep dimpled grin, his mouth leaving a wet trail down your chin and neck, to your collarbone and straight to the cleavage of your breasts, the tips of his fingers slowly making its way to your tits, curling around the velvety, thick material.  

You let out a high-pitched whine—near a yelp as you bucked your breasts up toward his hands, another quick gush of arousal filling your already soaked panties. “F-fuck Chris--.. what if.. We get caught...?” 

 he looked up at you, his mouth still latched at you like a leech, with wide eyes, almost innocent looking despite the situation, but quickly they narrowed to those same teasing eyes as he hooked off you, a string of spit on his tongue that dribbled down the cleavage of your boobs. He silently brought a finger to his mouth, shushing you before he slowly led his soft puckered mouth to your tit, his breathe hot against your hardened, perked up brown patch. He agonizingly brought his tongue around it, his lips curling around the tip of it as he suckled on your soft breast. You couldn’t help but let out small squeals as he licked and slurped at you, his free hand sliding down the side of your waist and to your small pretty jeaned up pussy, clenching the fat top layer before a finger slid slick into your folds, the outline of your throbbing clit palpable through the thick fabric. Your hips buckled towards his fingers in a desperate attempt for some sort of friction, his slender calloused hands curling up into your aching core through the fabric, his plump lips latching off your nipples with a soft moan. He soothed the aching sensation on your nips with a few gentle kisses as he pulled off your shirt, you were bare and had those porn star like tits. Not too big, but perky and rounded for sure. He led his hungered gaze over them. “So pretty.”  

he breathed out. The soon admiring gaze snapped back to in between your legs, you were clamping them shut against his hands, needily grinding and humping against him. He popped his hand from between your heat and with one swift motion, picked you up from the chair and SAT in it HIMSELF. You were about to scoff before he pulled you onto his lap, in the type of position where your perfect little ass was laid above his muscular thighs, your legs straddling him from both sides, his dick standing straight up right before your camel toed pussy, your cheeks tinting a bright rosey red. “Move those hips pretty girl. Need your clit rubbing ‘gainst me, yeah?”  

you are NOT his strongest solider because holy shit, the way this man has spells over you.. You start to transfer your heavy hips atop his and grinding downwards to his cock, but he lets out a ‘tch’ and holds your love handles to stop you from moving. “This won’t do. Need you in those pretty pink panties.” 

 now how the hell did he know what color it was? Whatever, and with a huff you start to unzip those tight jeans from off your legs until your pants were on the floor. His own slacks met yours on the floor in a crumpled mess, and God was it huge, full of girth and length, it was dying to be released from the boxers, like a huge water bottle in his garments.  

You were so turned on, you knew exactly the feeling, you needed him now. You were a hot mess, you wanted and needed him so quickly and without much thought, you sat back on his lap, trying to put your embarrassment aside, you sat down facing him, with your legs in the air on either side of the chair, Chan was surprised and felt so delightful your weight on his erection, he didn’t think you were going to position yourself like that but you left him absolutely charmed. You were dealing with the bulge between his pants pressing against your pussy. He was so hard, you could feel it if only through the slightly thick, rough cotton of his black garments. Just the thought of seeing his cock made your skin bristle with excitement. And suddenly, a wave of confidence hit you, a little too strong like a slap in the face, and now you were gliding your flaps perfectly through his shaft, apparent through boxers. You could feel the way the hard girth pulsated and pushed into your wet entrance even through the fabric, the mix of his precum in his shorts and your slick making it intoxicating and barely bare able. As the grinding of yours against him got more intense, small pants left his parted lips, hips bucking up often with every push of your pussy down against him.  

Chan moaned, letting out soft, melodic “A-aah, mmnh..” and then he raised his gaze, staring into your eyes, causing you to shiver at his lustful stare. “Fuck, look at you moving for me like that, keep doing what ‘your doing, just like that.. So good, love.” he licked his lips, leveling his face with yours, talking to you in such a sultry tone that it made your cheeks hot. You were so pathetically horny and starved that you were enjoying to the fullest-- bouncing on Chan’s cock under the hard cotton, pressing all over your pussy, your labia, moving them nimbly that it made you blur your vision.  

“God yeah-- you’re doing so good, beautiful.” His voice aroused you more and more bringing you so close to your orgasm, you were so concentrated in the sensation of your movements on his cock, you couldn’t stop, you moved your hips and Chan helped you with his hands squeezing your waist, guiding your every hump; you felt so hot and trapped, so desperate to get your clothes off but you didn’t want to stop, you weren’t going to stop until you were tired, it was as if you had no choice but to climax right now, just like this, and under his gaze it was physically impossible, flushed and sweaty, eager, watching you with keen, firey eyes. Chan was sighing and straining to make you feel good at the same time you were making him feel that effect on him, squeezing his cock so hard, expelling precum and not so far from his ejaculation. 

 Chris bit his lower lip and caught your mouth again, touching your restless and desperate body, he was about to cum. You were starting to get tired but it was a tiredness so inexplicably pleasurable, your chest was burning from the constant strong heartbeat. You were at your limit and you were doing almost nothing, but both of you were a mess of heaving breaths, Chan didn’t want to change anything about you either at that moment, he just squeezed you tightly enjoying every movement until he cum inside his underwear, in a gasp, throwing his head back, feeling one pressure release pleasantly but another coming so abruptly and quickly not wanting to finish yet with you. You held onto his shoulders tightly, pressed your legs into his body, Chan knew you were close so he encouraged you, with a kiss on your mouth half open and words that warmed even your ears. “Go on, cum, princess, let yourself go… Cum for me.” 

You gasped in despair and a little high-pitched moan, you cum all over your panties, leaving you flushed, breathless and with your pussy sticky. Seconds later you wanted to catch your breath, you still felt immobile before his big hands squeezing your body, you were at levels of agitation you didn’t think you’d reach in the near future with another guy. He was so the one, no matter a side chick from a new dentist you just met, you’d be booking appointments weekly with the daily pathetic excuse of tooth aches. That's one way to go.  

One orgasm down, so many more to go, left a sloppy panting mess atop him, he gently carries you until you're sitting at the side of the chair, on the edge, legs spread wide, head in a daze, not a care in your eyes until the sensation of his cold hands hits your underwear – a loss of warmth but a new sensation. Only when you look down is when you catch the concentrated man on his knees for you, peeling off your pink panties and licking the slick off of it so none went to waste, letting out an approving hum.  

“You taste so fucking good.” 

Chan said it, in such a thick voice so lost in the image of your pussy. You were a hot trembling mess, letting out a shuddered moan as you felt his warm, full lips on the skin of your plump mons pubis, giving you kisses and leaving little hickeys down his way until his mouth took your clit, making you squeal; you were beginning to relax and let yourself be carried away by the tingling of the tip of his index finger caressing your soft, moist vulva, playing with your wetness, until two of his fingers teased your entrance until he inserted his fingers, while his mouth never let go of your sensitive spot, licking and sucking it gently, causing you pleasure and the beginning of trembling in your legs. 

Chan fucked you gently and deeply for a few moments, teasing you and reaching sweet places inside your tight pussy, but he withdrew his fingers from you, positioned both his hands on your thighs, squeezing them gently and began to move his mouth all the way down your vulva, licking the right places, sucking delightfully on your labia and filling himself with you, from his chin to his nose, so focused working on you. You felt so hot, and he looked so good eating you out while you were a panting mess, arching your back and being pleasured. Your slick dripped its way down his chin, covering his faces with your whipped up, once clear but now creamy and sweet juices. “Fuck," He groaned out, lapping up and sucking at your clit, then going back down to collect your juices.  

You were close, again, your hips stuttering against his plump lips as he alternated from eating your pussy to sucking at your clit. He could feel the way your hips bucked up, the way your needy pussy clenched around his tongue, before with one last suck of your vagina, he slid up and started going savage onto your clit, opening his mouth with a wide grin, flicking his tongue against you as he plunged two fingers, slick with spit inside of your already seeping pussy, thrusting in and out and curling his fingers up in a way that was sure to drive you over the edge, and so it did, a mix of juices and release spewing all over his fingers, up to the muscles of his forearms, squealing out his name in a desperate moan.

 “Chris- chrischris—c-christopher!! Cumming!!” 

He stared at you in awe and immense pleasure, cock twitching in his boxers as he witnessed your climax, shaking and trembling, heartbeat pounding, sweat dripping, hot and messy flushed face, hips bucking up so high he could have sworn he was seeing stars, and before you knew it the sound of fabric sliding down filled your sensitive, worn-out ears, and a deep sensation hit your overstimulated pussy. 

Within seconds, as you came down from your haze, you were immediately sent back to that trance but so much deeper as his girthed cock unmercifully pounded its way deep into your pussy, kissing your cervix with every deep thrust. His hips slam against yours as he slides back in, you're so warm and wet around him that he's losing his mind. He's like a rabbit in heat as he moves his hips, harder and harder, his balls hitting your ass and the sounds that leaves your lips encourages him more. One minute you have your legs wrapped around his waist pulling him deeper and the next your legs are against your chest as Chan's large hands are on the back of your thighs as he slams his hips against yours again. He's hypnotized. Your pussy sucking in dick so well, and you're taking it like a good girl too. Tears falling from your eyes and words leave your lips but he doesn't really understand what you're saying. The word daddy leaves your lips, and you chant it over and over.  

You felt so full, his dick filling you up so nicely and you honestly believe that you could cum just like this. And the way the tip of his head hits your sweet spot it makes you feel on cloud nine. Thrusting into you with a sharp hit of his hips, and you internally cringe at yourself for hiccupping at the force. “G-god-!!” is all you manage to say as he continues slamming his hips into you at a painfully slow pace, looking you dead in the eye as you crumble beneath his intense gaze. 

gripping at his biceps and biting your lip as an attempt to keep your moans in, but the little whimpers and whines end up spilling out anyway. You can feel Chan's cock twitch inside you every time you say yes for him, especially with the way your walls are throbbing around his length as he groans the words “good girl” in the midst of it all. 

“So so good for me,” he continues, grinding his hips in a way that makes his pelvis graze your clit rhythmically, and you’re sure you’re seeing stars once his hand finds your neck, just resting it there to get your attention. “W-want you to fill me up so bad,” you whimper, and he lets a groan out right after you… one that makes your stomach flutter with emotions given how beautiful it sounded. 

“Channie--” you blabber out pathetically, your own mouth filling with saliva at how amazing he’s making you feel right now. “P-please-!!” you cry out, and it’s a weak cry. He finally lets his lips find yours in a needy kiss, and a string of spit keeps y’all together as he breaks away to let out a moan of his own, but you’re pulling him back into you, wanting him to be as close as possible to you in this moment.  

“Feels so fucking good inside you, sooo fucking good,” he grunts, and you know he’s almost close just from the way his eyebrows are screwing into adorable little crinkles, his thrusts becoming sloppier and sloppier by the second. 

“F-fuck-” you mewl against his lips, feeling the knot in your own stomach tighten as his cock hit mesmerizing places inside you. He keeps his hand snug around your neck while looking into your eyes, and his hips can’t bare to piston into your cunt any longer once your walls clench around him, making him feel dizzy in the head. At that point, hes too far in to care about anything, gripping your ass cheek with an intense need as his hands lands a hard slap against it, leaving a red stain of his handprint on your cheek, the stinging pain of his hands and soothing rubs making you go insane.

With each 3-4 hard thrusts, he adds in a hard WACK, marking both cheeks with a rosey red that looked like it was blushing, and soon enough he was lifting one leg straight up like a candle, toes curled as he fucked deep into you, with a new refreshment that was only yours to claim, luckily enough. He fucked into you with a matched fervor that can only be described as wild, and with that, chan finally lets himself go, barely getting any extra thrusts in before painting your walls with his hot release, groaning shamelessly like a porn star. “Oh my God,” he grunts with a strained voice, using his last bit of strength to prevent himself from collapsing on top of you given how spent he is now. He pops out of you soon enough, after having his soft cock warmed up by your wet walls, his cum seeping out of your used pussy, but his cock doesn’t look... normal. Its soft yet still kind of up, like maybe his balls were too big and propping it up? No, it was infact still semi-hard, his eyes meeting yours with a mutual agreement, a challenge, as if asking to help him out, and so you did, backing up into the marbled countertops containing of those small sinks and that random hole filled with garbage.  

His hand slides to the back of your neck, firm but gentle, and pulls you closer. “Good girl,” he praises, voice laced with an almost indistinguishable amount of contempt, and it has you reeling. You lick a bit along his tip, slowly and gently kissing along the sensitive skin, and you can already feel it start to rise along your lips. His fingers weave through your hair with a slow sigh. You press another kiss to the side of his cock, soft at first, as if tasting the moment before plunging in. His body shudders. The saltiness lingers on your tongue as you part your lips wider, slowly taking him into your mouth. “Fuck,” he breathes, the word barely audible, more an exhale than speech.  

His hand slightly tightens in your hair, not pulling, just holding, grounding himself. You hollow your cheeks, sliding further forward, and the groan that rumbles in his chest sends a thrill through you. The weight of him is heavy on your tongue, and you let yourself sink into a languid pace, drawing him in, inch by inch, savoring the way his body reacts. His hips jerk, just a little, involuntarily, and you can’t help the slight moan that leaves your throat. The sound and vibration seem to undo him.  

“You’re so fucking good at this,” Chan grunts, his voice rough around the edges, raw with need. His hand cups the back of your head, guiding you—not forcing, but encouraging—as you take him deeper, working with a mix of tongue, lips, and a shit ton of spit. 

You glance up, catching his gaze. A carnal glint is in his stare, and he smiles. Fuck. The sight of him nearly takes your breath away. His jaw falls slack, his lips part, and his eyes lock on you—heavy-lidded and burning with something primal. The tension in his thighs grow as you continue, a gradual acceleration in the way you take him in. The soft, wet sounds fill the air, mingling with his labored breaths and low groans. His thumb brushes your cheek, a ticklish touch that feels oddly tender amidst the heat. “Just like that,” Chan murmurs, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Don’t stop. You’re—perfect.” You give an hum, letting it thrum in your mouth. Chan whimpers and it’s an absolutely beautiful thing to hear. You hum again, louder this time. Your chest heaves at the limited breathing but Chan is slowly losing his sense of control and it arouses you, motivates you to keep going. “God, your skilled. I work in oral care, yet you seem to be better at it.” Chan laughs to himself, head thrown back, words spiked with unmistakable lust. His hands move to your shoulders, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he fights the urge to thrust into your mouth. “I won’t last if you keep going like that.” His voice cracks, betraying the thin line of self-control he’s holding onto. You pull back slightly, just enough to take a breath, then bob your head back into his girth, but this time you take him deep and you swear you can catch glimpse of his soul leaving his body, eyes rolling back and brows furrowed in a pornographic way. You choke and gag slightly on his cock, but being the sadistic girl you are, you take pleasure in the way he thrusts less carelessly into your mouth, fucking into you as he tugs on your hair as a guide, the only pillar of support besides the cold counter behind him, his other hand holding onto the edge so he wouldn’t slip, but the moment you hollow your cheeks again and gaze up at him with that stare is when he looses it. Before he could mutter any more words, he just lets out a series of swears. “F-fucking hell-! O-oh my god cumming--” 

And a hot liquid fills your throat, forcing its way inside until your throat is sore, raw and hot from his salty liquids. It’s murky and a bit penny-like in a way, but your addicted to the taste that would normally seem gross. As you pull back with a mix of spit and cum on your tongue, he ruffles up your hair and helps stand you up, kissing an awkward kiss onto your messy forehead as he sets you back down onto the chair, scooping out the remains of his liquid out of your spent pussy and dabbing it up with a tissue, the light fabric teasing your overstimulated clit, drawing a whine out of you. He gently hushes you and continues to clean you up and pack up his stuff.  

“Until next time, yeah? And wear those pink panties again, they look good on you.” He waves out with a charming wink, despite his current state. 

God, this man. Guess your next appointment won’t just be one type of oral... 

[d3cay1ngst4tic]

— gnawing at my ribs, this sweet longing of mine.

contents. satoru x gn!reader. fluff. angsty, but it’s a good kind of angst. (?). hurt/comfort.

★ jiah’s notes. i’m missing satoru like a mf bro

you can feel something within you.

it’s a tiny thing, worthy of being unnoticed. worthy of being whisked away by other thoughts that keep you occupied all day long. but you still hold onto it, warming its hand and giving it a little squeeze, though you’re not sure why.

it’s not something significant, yet you notice it anyway.

(like a leaf landing on your shoe when trees shed their woes away.)

it scratches at your insides. it tries to squeeze itself through your ribs and your heart attempts to shush it, pacify it, but this thing is a petulant child. it bawls and bites the hand that tries to feed, hiding away in a corner somewhere.

(but it stays.)

you put a hand over your chest, trying to locate where it is. where are you? you don’t say it out loud, but for some reason, you know it’ll hear you. odd little thing it is, so predictable and lost.

i’m not gonna come outside, it says, and you can hear the hurt in its voice— the way it cracks a little. you can feel it curl up onto itself, shielding itself from everyone and everything, hoping that it’ll never be seen again.

(you give up.)

your fingers absent-mindedly tap the mug you’ve been holding, barely registering the soft tinkling of metal against ceramic when you stir the contents with a spoon. it sounds a little familiar, though, a distant voice at the back of your head whispers. sounds like a certain someone.

you realise what the little thing’s been all along.

(you should’ve seen it coming. cheeky, odd thing, fooling you once again.)

it’s longing.

you can feel exactly where it is now.

it is the lump in your throat that refuses to be swallowed down. it is the lingering glance your eyes give the clock whenever you catch a glimpse of the sky outside your window. it is the way your feet carry you to a room on their own. it is the way you pick up two spoons instead of one when you pile some ice cream onto your bowl.

(it is the burn beneath your skin and the rattling chains over your bones.)

you flop down on the couch, eyes fixated on the blank screen of your television. you raise the cup to your lips and have a sip— you don’t even know what you’re drinking.

(a pause.)

for one thing, it’s sweet. too sweet, in fact.

(a sickening sweet that makes the sting of the curled up longing blaze like an open wound.

all because of a certain someone.)

you miss him.

you miss him, gods, you miss him. you feel like you’re dying.

a moment ago, you had placed your hand over your chest whilst trying to find out where the something within you lay, and in the next moment it’s all over you— consuming you whole from the inside out. gnawing at your soul and trapping the air before it could escape, and you start to lose your breath.

(you can’t take it anymore.)

your shaky hands let go of the mug and it spills some coffee on the floor; your feet carry you towards your room in such hurried steps that it might as well look like you’re sprinting away.

(running away from it.

the damned longing.)

and before you know it, you’re pressing satoru’s name on your screen.

it rings mechanically, but you feel it echo within your mind like a haunting melody.

please, you think. plea. request. demand. you’re not sure what you’re begging for. you just are. please, please, please, please—

(a pause.)

“hello?”

it’s quite remarkable, the way the tension within you deflates.

(how could it not?)

his voice is the evening summer breeze that brushes away stray strands of your hair when you close your eyes. his voice is the lingering aftertaste of gum on your tongue, the one that you wish stayed a little longer. his voice is the soft coo in your ear that soothes your chained bones and coaxes the longing away.

(your satoru’s voice.)

“satoru,” you breathe out. really breathe out. it sounds more like a gasp than anything, and you’re more than aware of the little crack in your voice.

(but you go on, anyway.)

“satoru.” you repeat again.

it feels so much better to have it on your lips that you want to say it till you can’t speak. till you can’t breathe.

(it’s the only thing keeping you alive, anyway.)

“yeah, baby?” he murmurs. you can feel the tiredness clinging to his light tone. your poor baby, he must be so tired. and you? you’re calling him just because you couldn’t handle his absence.

(but a tiny part of you allows you to be a little selfish. just this once.)

“. . . hello? honeybun?”

his voice startles you a little. you realise that you’ve been zoning out since the past minute.

(just this once, you finally swallow the lump in your throat.)

“yeah,” you say, “yeah— yeah. ’m here.”

“good,” he laughs a little. you feel those chains unravel themselves. “i was starting to wonder whether you’d fallen asleep on me after calling me in the middle of the might. not that i’d mind.”

“no, i just. . . i—” your cheeks heat up a little. “i . . have you eaten?”

(a pause.)

oh, satoru’s heart is in shambles right now, but he wouldn’t change the ache on his chest for anything. you probably can’t see it, but he’s not even bothering to blink away the tears that spill down his cheeks like little, forbidden crystals.

(the strongest was just so weak for you.)

“yeah,” he manages to say, after a while, “yeah. i’ve eaten, sweetheart. you?”

“i have,” you murmur.

(i miss you, you think. i’ll wait.)

“good,” he murmurs back.

(i miss you, satoru thinks. wait for me.)

@stxrysnow on tumblr. do not copy or post any of my works without my permission.

[renzurrs]

Merry (fucking) Christmas

Sub!Jisung x Fem!Reader

Description: A wholesome moment while opening stockings on christmas eve was quickly interrupted when Jisung got a vibrator in his… and you somehow got fuzzy hand cuffs..? What could go wrong when you mix the two together?

Warnings: cursing, NSFW material, P in V, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, please), crying during sex (Jisung), bondage, orgasm play, I think thats all chat?

Word count: 3,364!

Christmas. The one time a year where you can sit around, drink hot chocolate and watch movies without being distracted with work or other life responsibilities. The one time a year that your boyfriend, Jisung, was off and could enjoy your presence.

Christmas is your favorite, it always has been, and Jisung knows that. This is your guys third christmas being together, and you were so excited you could barely contain yourself. You both had agreed on filling each other’s stockings with smaller items you couldn’t wrap and put under the tree, stuff that was memorable, cute and things you wouldn’t normally buy each other.

It was finally christmas eve, the clock on your phone read 9:30 pm when you looked down at it to check the time. Ji had just came back with the hot chocolate he made, telling you to be careful with it since it was hot. After settling down on the couch, Jisung got up to grab your stockings for both of you to open them, a small tradition you both had since your guys first christmas together.

Jisung grabbed yours, handing it to you with a small smile and sitting down next to you on the couch. The electric fireplace in front of you both letting off a small amount of heat, enough to leave the room nice and warm.

You and jisung started to undo the small amount of stuff in your stockings, the small candies and jewelry Jisung shoved into yours making you smile.

you continued to converse with Jisung about the small things you bought him. A guitar pic that was customized with his name engraved in it, a small amount of his favorite candy, and so many little rings and other things that he loved. His smile was bright as he placed the stuff next to his side, looking like a child opening up his presents on christmas morning.

The room was set under an orange glow from the fireplace, the tv set to soft christmas music that played in the background as you both took stuff out of your stockings with smiles plastered on your faces. The christmas tree lit in the corner of the living room, glimmering with red and white decorations that were so graciously placed on there by you and Jisung one random saturday afternoon in december. Gifts lined the bottom of it, bigger boxes from Jisung since he just LOVED to spoil you with anything you loved. The moment was wholesome…

“Jisung!” You said excitedly, opening up the small black box that showed off the amethyst stone on a necklace chain. The necklace was gorgeous and definitely expensive, but Jisung would spend anything to see you happy. He smiled softly at you, letting you examine the small rock on the necklace. He grabbed it softly from your grasp, unclipping the back of it and wrapping it gently around your neck, clasping it back together and fixing your hair around it. You looked down at it, holding the amethyst stone in your hand as you gave Jisung the sweetest smile ever.

“Thank you, JiJi” You said lovingly, leaning forward and stealing a soft kiss from him, which he generously recuperated. The moment was so soft, the air thick with love. You both leaned against each other again, going back to getting the stuff out of your stockings.

It eventually got to the bottoms of the stockings, the floor covered in wrapping paper and wrappings from certain items you both took out of the package. The cups of hot chocolate being half empty by now and long forgotten on the table in front of you both. You couldn’t help but blush slightly, feeling your heart start to race as you realized how soon he would see what you got him, wondering how he would react…

He pulled the small box from out of the stocking bottom, tilting his head and looking at the shape, seemingly trying to decipher what it could be. You also grabbed the last thing from your stocking, the wrapping paper crinkling under your fingers as you looked over at Jisung, who gave you a small smile. He started to unwrap the paper around the box as you started to unwrap yours, the ripping of the wrapping paper filling the silence. It was a couple seconds later when you looked over at Jisung who was a blushing mess, no fucking wonder.

You lifted up your hand, the fluffy material tickling your skin. Fuzzy fucking handcuffs dangled from your index finger, swinging slightly as you looked at them. You looked over at Jisung, catching eye contact with him, a small smirk playing on your face.

“Whats this, Ji?” You hummed lightly, cocking your head at him. He looked down at his lap then back at you, holding up the box. The box displayed a vibrator on the front, one that was phone operated and sat on the tip of the dick.

“Whats THIS?” He retorted back in a bratty tone, still a bit shy as his cheeks grew red.

You couldn’t help the small smile that quirked at the edges of your lips, keeping your head cocked at him and letting your soft and gentle tone seduce him further.

“Haven’t you been wanting a little stress relief, ji?”

Jisung melted at your words, his self control slipping away slowly but surely. He gulped back the saliva that pooled in his mouth, his thighs clenching together. The tent in his pajama pants prominent and warm from his flustered state.

He suddenly felt how close you were, how much heat was radiating from your body, how pretty your hands were holding those fuzzy handcuffs… he couldn’t stop thinking, his thoughts coming in horny waves.

Your body felt like it was on fire, your stomach fluttering and between your thighs aching from the way Jisung looked at you. So needy, so fucking hot.

A JIsung was distracted by starring at your lips, you unlatched the handcuffs, quickly putting one part around his wrist. His cheeks flushed a deep red color at the sensation, his senses heightened from the moment.

You leaned forward, just enough to sit close enough to his lips where he could feel your breath with his.

“Do you want to have a little fun, baby?” You whispered, your voice was soft and subtly sweet as you waited for his reply.

He nodded eagerly, not even waiting a second later before connecting his lips to yours, a soft moan escaping him at the taste of your lips. He tried to move his hand to hold the back of your neck, but was quickly pulled back down by the part of the handcuff you held onto. A soft whine came from his parted lips against yours, lifting his other hand and trying to grab onto you with any type of grip he could, but before he could, you gripped onto his free wrist, swinging it behind his back with no problem.

The handcuff clicked shut, both of his hands stuck behind his back as you moved your lips against his. Your soft lips against his made another moan come from him, a smirk being planted onto your lips when you pulled away.

His big eyes looked up at you, his lips swollen and slicked with saliva. He looked so innocent yet… so dirty. You grabbed onto his chin, running your thumb along his bottom lip before shoving it past his lips, pressing against his tongue. He whimpered against your thumb.

“Is my JiJi baby all worked up?” You cooed, popping your thumb from his mouth and rubbing his spit all over his lips.

“D..Dont tease me…” Jisung whined, going to move his hand but quickly being held back by the handcuffs. You chuckled at his failed attempt, pulling away from him and grabbing the box from next to him. The small box containing the vibrator she bought for him, her hands working to open it and toss the box to the side.

“How the hell does that even work…?” Jisung furrowed his brows, looking back at you before his eyes landed on the object in your hand.

“Shhh… you’ll find out” You said ever so softly, your free hand coming down to his pants, running along his length under his clothes. He groaned, his hips bucking up into your hand with a small whine of approval from him. You chuckled, undoing the strings on his pajama pants as his hips lifted to help you pull them down with his boxers.

His hard cock hit his lower abdomen, his cheeks running a dark red color from how flustered he’s gotten. You gently used your free hand to rub at his tip, spreading his precum over his dick. He let out a small moan, squeezing his eyes shut in pleasure. He was so sensitive that any touch was making him whimper.

You swung your leg over his thighs, straddling them down so he couldn’t move. You looked at him again, his lustful gaze meeting yours with need and desire behind it.

Your eyes stayed on his as you adjusted the toy to sit on the tip of his dick, the vibrator snug against it. He whined softly at the friction, trying to stay as still as possible under you.

“Stay.” You murmured, getting off of his lap and finding your phone on the coffee table in front of the couch. He nodded at you, he was always good for you, listening to everything you told him to do…

You slid yourself back onto his thighs, pinning him down again and opening the app on your phone. Jisung shakily let out a breath, his composure slowly slipping as he felt you click the vibrator on, though the vibrations hadn’t started.

“Why didnt it-“ He was cut off by you turning it on a low setting on your phone, his words cutting off into a high pitched moan. His hips lifted up off the couch as he tried to get closer to any friction at all against his dick.

You chuckled softly at the need in his movements, he kept trying to move to make it hit other places, but it kept vibrating against the same area.

“Are you ready for me to turn it up?” You teasingly asked, watching his reaction to your words was enough to make your thighs rub together and heat pool between your legs. His head nodded, his eyes full of need and desire. he pulled against the restraints on his wrists with a whine.

“P..Please..?” He whimpered, giving you the softest eyes with his pleading sentence… you couldnt very well say no to the poor baby. You looked down at your phone, scrolling through the settings as the silence was filled with the sound of the toy vibrating against Jisung and his small moans.

You eventually fucked with the controls, going to a bar that messed with the level of it. You cranked it up a couple notches and watched him completely fall apart. His eyes rolled back into the back of his head, his head hitting the back of the couch, and his thighs tensing underneath you. You almost moaned at the way he looked, but he did that for you with the amount of moaning he was doing. He was always quite vocal, but you had never heard him THIS vocal.

Jisung whimpered, babbling about heightening the speed and that he was close already. You gently listened to his words, keeping straight eye contact with his dilated pupils as you maxed out the vibrator. His hips shuttered, his moans turning into almost screams while he just got higher in pitch.

It was fun fucking around with orgasm play, why not do it now…?

He was so close, so very close, and he could only whine out a small reply about being on the edge and how he was about to cum. This made you snicker, your finger tapping your screen and turning off the vibrations. His eyes widened, meeting yours as he tried to catch his breath. He furrowed his brows, looking like he was about to cry.

“Baby I..I was so close… give it back, please… fuckkk…” He said, drawling out his words at the end in a groan. He moved against his wrist restraints, squirming under you with the softest eyes.

“I..I’ll be a good boy for you…” He pleaded with you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of weakness. He found it, hiding back a small grin at the way your eyes softened at his pleading. He mentally prepared himself for the pleasure he was gonna endure, not knowing how high you would put the vibrator up to…

To his surprise you started low, eliciting small and deep groans from him. You waited a little to turn it up a notch, changing the vibrations to a setting that vibrated in pulses, his hips lifting off the couch and his breathing coming out in small huffs.

His orgasm was building up again, this time he gave no warnings about how close he was, not wanting you to stop. You knew, it was obvious by his body language. His hips grinding up into the air, his hands pushing against the handcuffs that were locked behind his back, its was so obvious. You didnt stop the vibrator, watching his face contort in pleasure was turning you on…

Your clothed clit rubbed against his thigh as you readjusted yourself on him, trying to help the aching between your legs. You bit back a whimper, watching Jisung again as you tried to ignore the feeling of his thighs flexing against your clothed heat. It would only take a bit longer before he came, only a little bit longer until you could use him until hes a whining mess under you.

He started to shudder, trembling underneath you and pleading with you to let him cum. The noises he was making were almost pornographic, high pitched whimpers and his moans coming from the bottom of his throat, going from deep to whiny.

“I..Im gonna cum…” He mumbled aloud, throwing his head back onto the couch. And with your permission he came, hard and long. His stomach muscles tightening and his hands clenching into fists behind him from the pure pleasure he was feeling, he was almost screaming.

The long orgasm finally subsided, making him pant and look up at you. His cum dripped all onto your pants and his thighs, the toy drenched with the milky white substance. It didn’t take you long to turn the vibrations off and pull the toy off of his cock, he wouldn’t need it anyway right now.

He looked at you with a confused look when you got off of his lap, his eyes widening as he saw what you were doing. Your pajama pants hit the floor in a plaid pool of clothing, leaving behind your silk red underwear. The sides were lined with a lace material, along with the waistband of them. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you, you were so beautiful just standing in front of him, stuck between the coffee table and the couch.

“Do you like what you see, baby?” You cooed at him in a teasing tone, smirking and chuckling at the fast nod he did. You wrapped your hands around the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head and revealing a matching bra to your underwear. You purposely bought it to get him all wound up, and it was working as his cock twitched at the look of your tits spilling out of the silk material. He gulped again, this time letting his eyes wonder over your body. His gaze was hot and heavy, watching as you made your way back onto his lap.

In a seductive way, you pushed his shirt up a bit. You gently ran your fingers over his chest, down his abs, and stopping at his dick. You looked up at him, keeping eye contact and rubbing your thumb over the tip of his cock, his eyes rolling back and a whine coming from him. She realized he was super sensitive, this made more heat pool between her legs.

Your panties were practically dripping, you readjusted yourself to sit against him more, his dick rubbing against your clothed cunt. You let out a heavy and shaky breath, rubbing yourself against him again and letting out a gentle moan. Jisung was watching you, his eyes never leaving you and his lips parted to let out small noises from the way you felt against him.

“Y..You feel, Ji? Im wet for you baby” You said, rubbing your hips against him and looking up at him.

“F..For me.. yeah… only for me…” He said in a breathy tone, his voice cracking in between with small moans. His poor body so overstimulated with the feeling of your body against his, a whine could be heard from him.

You stopped rubbing against him, pulling your panties to the side. With your free hand you held his shoulder, leaning forward and pressing your lips against his. It was a messy kiss, teeth clashing and tongues fighting for dominance, but it was quickly interrupted when you sank onto him, your pussy clenching around him. He let out a high pitched moan, your own small moans mixing with his.

“Y..You’re so warm baby…” He murmured, his breath hitching. You grinned, starting to lift up your hips and sinking them back down onto him. His eyes fluttered shut from the pure pleasure, his jaw dropping and he moaned loudly.

You ground your hips against him, his dick hitting deep into your cervix. He couldn’t speak, only letting out noises of pleasure. You couldn’t help but speed up your movements, your eyes watching his face contort in pure bliss at the feeling of your pussy.

It was only a matter of time before he was babbling about how close he was again, your panties rubbing against his cock every time you bounced on him gave him so much extra stimulation he was almost crying. He pushed against the restraints that were still on his wrists, wanting to grab your waist and fuck into you so hard…

He started to buck his hips against yours, his breaths coming out in faint whines and tears started to brim his eyes from the intense feeling he had.

“Oh don’t cry baby…” You said softly, wiping the tears that hadn’t fallen yet.

“Fuck- feels so good…” He whimpered, looking up at you with glassy eyes and an eager look. You nodded softly, softly moaning and pressing a kiss to his lips. He looked up at you, eyes rolling back and a pornographic moan slipping from his lips, his cum spilling into you.

You let out a harsh moan, your walls convulsing around him and leaking cum down your thigh. You rode out your high on him, his soft whimpers and moans quieting down as you slowed. You gently ran your fingers through his hair, looking down at him. He opened his eyes, gazing up at you with a lustful expression in his eyes.

“Babe… my wrists…” He whined, making you giggle. You got off of him with a small huff, grabbing the keys off of the table, they had been thrown there in the midst of the activities. You pushed your hand behind his back, unlocking the cuffs and taking them into your hands. You took them away, putting them on the table.

You sat down next to him, cuddling into his side. He wrapped an arm around you with a small sigh, pressing a kiss to your forehead and smoothing down your hair. The small and wholesome moment melting your heart.

“Let me clean you up… we can watch a christmas movie after…” He murmured against your hair, breathing in the scent of your shampoo.

He did that exactly, cleaning you up and putting you in clean pajamas. He settled you on the couch, cleaning up all the small gifts that scattered onto the floor before sitting down next to you, pulling you into his side as “Rudolph” played on the tv.

A/N: HI GUYS!! This is a bit late i wont lie, i got so distracted at family gatherings that the end is a bit short. I hope you enjoy it anyways🫶 have a great christmas if you celebrate, happy holidays!

Tags: @felixleftchickennugget @gnabsrihc

[vibewithma]

Man of God

Modern Sinners Au!

Preacher Boy/Sammie x Black Church Girl!Reader

Friday rolled in slow and warm, sun slipping through the trees like it had nowhere in particular to be. You had your music low and your windows cracked as you drove Pops into the city. He gave directions the whole time like you ain’t been driving him.

“Take this left here nah, this one,” he muttered, hand waving out the window like it was guiding the car itself.

You smiled, biting your tongue. “Yes sir.”

You let him out at his old friend’s house, watched him do that slow shuffle up the walkway before turning to Doris in the passenger seat. She had her handbag clutched like it held secrets and prayers, lips pursed in anticipation.

“You ready, Granny?”

She smirked. “I was born ready.”

Next stop: the shop.

Y’all strolled through the aisles like it was a military operation Doris on a mission, you just trying to keep up. Into the cart went elbow macaroni, blocks of sharp cheddar, buttermilk, bags of flour, pounds of catfish, whole chickens, pork chops, sage, celery, sweet potatoes, marshmallows and more.

You blinked at the growing mountain. “Granny…you feeding the church or hosting a revival?”

Doris didn’t miss a beat. “It’s called preparation, baby.”

“Granny, everybody knows you can cook. You don’t have to compete with Sister Lorraine—”

Doris stopped dead in the spice aisle, turned to you like she just heard blasphemy. “You think David wanted to fight Goliath?”

You blinked. “Huh?”

She tilted her head. “Sometimes God gives you the stones to prove the fool wrong.”

You stared and she tossed Old Bay in the cart like it was one of those stones.

What she didn’t say and what you didn’t notice was that somewhere between the yams and the sugar aisle, she’d slipped red food colouring and cream cheese frosting ingredients into the cart. You clocked it at the checkout too late.

“Granny…” you sighed, watching the cashier bag the cocoa powder. “You really brought cake stuff?”

Doris grinned, all teeth. “Your red velvet could raise the dead. I just want folks to remember it before that Lorraine woman’s banana pudding clouds their judgment.”

You groaned but smiled. Deep down, you kinda liked being part of her legacy mission.

As you loaded up the trunk, a familiar low laugh rolled across the lot.

“Miss Doris?”

You both turned. There stood two tall, broad shouldered young men in faded hoodies and gold chains Elijah and Elias Moore. Smoke and Stack.

Doris waved them over like they were kin.

“Well if it ain’t the troubled twins!” she called, grinning ear to ear.

They laughed, walking up like they’d been summoned by heaven and gossip.

“You still callin’ us that, Miss Doris?” Smoke asked, leaning in for a quick side hug.

“You ain’t grown outta it yet,” she quipped back, patting his back. “This is my granddaughter, Y/N.”

Stack gave you a glance over and smiled, dimples showing. “Heard a lot ‘bout you.”

“From who?” you asked, lifting a brow.

They both looked at each other and smirked.

“Our little cousin,” Smoke said.

“Talkin’ ‘bout you like you got wings,” Stack added.

Your stomach flipped. You already knew who they meant.

Sammie.

“Lord have mercy,” you mumbled under your breath, grabbing the last bag and shoving it in the trunk.

Doris chuckled. “Mmhm. Y’all behave now. I got food to beat people with love this Sunday.”

“That’s a holy competition,” Stack said, tipping his chin at you.

You laughed, shook your head and slid into the driver’s seat while Doris said her goodbyes.

As you pulled off, you glanced in the rearview to see them still grinning and waving.

“You think they really troubled?” you asked.

Doris just said, “Baby, everybody troubled. Question is what are they doing with it?”

Back at home, the whole house buzzed like a beehive on sugar water.

Doris wasted no time putting everybody on assignment like it was the Last Supper and she was personally feeding Jesus and his disciples.

“Lenny!” she hollered from her recliner. “You head back to the city and get them fancy cutlery sets from the Dollar General the gold trim ones. Not the silver. Silver look cheap.”

Your dad sighed but grabbed his keys. “Yes ma’am…”

Your mama was already at the kitchen counter, sleeves rolled, head tied, muttering ingredients like scripture.

“If I cut the onions now and leave the greens soaking overnight, we can be cookin’ by 2 a.m. sharp…”

Dawn was on the living room floor, wrangling Doris’s bob wig like it was trying to escape. “Granny, why it got so many pins in it?”

Doris peeked over her glasses. “That’s security, baby. That wig ain’t movin’ through praise and sweat.”

Dawn held it up to show you. “It’s been through war.”

You just laughed and kept bagging the groceries.

Then Dawn pulled out the aprons, fresh from her sewing machine, each with big bold letters on the front in gold glitter vinyl: Miss Doris Made It.

One for Granny. One for your mama. One for you. One for Dawn.

“Now we uniformed,” Doris said, nodding like this was an army.

Your job?

“Go pick up your Pops. And make sure he don’t stay out late talkin’ to them old fools.”

“Got it.”

Except… it didn’t go exactly like that.

You pulled up to the house and sure enough, there he was. Pops in a lawn chair with five other men, all in matching button downs and dad hats, drinks in hand, playing some version of dominoes meets poker you ain’t never seen before. They were yelling, laughing, slapping the table like kids who just got recess back.

You stepped up to him, hands on your hips. “Pops. Time to go.”

He looked up and smiled like he hadn’t heard a thing. “One more round.”

“Pops…”

“You can wait. Go sit in the car. We’ll be done soon.”

You narrowed your eyes but turned on your heel. “You better not be here past midnight or I’m tellin’ Granny you was out here drinkin’ ‘apple juice’.”

You slid into your car and leaned back with a sigh, phone in hand. You hit FaceTime and Dawn picked up immediately.

On screen, she was modeling Granny’s wig like it was couture.

“Girl,” you cackled, “why you look like you about to direct a funeral and star in the BET biopic about it?”

“Shut up,” she grinned, flipping the camera to show the apron. “But tell me this ain’t cute. Granny said she wanna debut it during offering.”

You were mid laugh when knock knock came soft on your window.

You screamed. Dawn screamed on FaceTime.

You turned.

And there he was.

Grinning like sin in sneakers Sammie, standing outside your car like he’d just strolled outta a dream and into your Friday night.

You unlocked the door with a sigh. “What in the left behind sequel are you doin’ here?”

He slid into the passenger seat smooth, settling in like he belonged there.

“You always this jumpy?” he asked, kicking his feet up just a little.

“You always sneakin’ up on girls like a villain in a Lifetime movie?”

He chuckled low, rubbing his palms together. “Nah. Only when they owe me.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Owe you?”

“Mmhmm.” He leaned closer, eyes glintin’. “I still ain’t got my gas money kiss.”

You rolled your eyes but your smile gave you away. “You really gon’ keep bringin’ that up?”

He shrugged, relaxed and grinning. “If the Lord bring it to remembrance…”

You shook your head. “You play too much.”

“And you like it.”

Silence settled for a moment, soft and comfortable. The street was quiet, the cicadas hummin’, his cologne floating easy between you.

“You look real cute when you bossin’ folks around, by the way,” he added. “Saw you earlier, hand on your hip like a deacon’s wife.”

“You stalkin’ me now?”

“More like… admirin’ from afar.” His voice dropped a note lower. “A very appreciative afar.”

Your cheeks burned and you looked out the window, but you were smiling.

“Mmhm. You want a kiss that bad, Sammie?”

He bit his lip, leaned closer, voice warm as butter on cornbread. “I want whatever you feel like givin’ me.”

Right then, your phone buzzed again. Dawn still on FaceTime, mouth open and shooketh.

“I’m still here!!!” she whisper yelled. “I heard everything!”

Sammie just laughed and leaned back, stretching out like he had all the time in the world.

Sammie leaned back in the seat, arms crossed behind his head like he had nowhere to be but right there, teasing you into sin.

On FaceTime, Dawn was staring at him like she was seeing a ghost in sneakers.

He raised a brow and smirked at the screen. “Hey Dawn. Heard you got yourself on house arrest”

“…Hey.” She blinked. “Boy. Not me.”

“I heard Miss Doris said you got one more ‘practice’ lie in you before she drag you by the ear to confession.”

Dawn sucked her teeth. “It was one time.”

“One too many.” He chuckled. “I’m prayin’ for your freedom, though.”

“You do that,” she snapped, but even she was trying not to laugh.

You cleared your throat and hit the end button real quick. “Bye, Dawn.”

“Wait, wait, wa—” click.

You turned and Sammie was watching you with a look that made your stomach do a backflip.

“What?” you asked, trying to act casual.

“You jealous?” he grinned, voice dipping low and mischievous.

You arched your brows. “Boy, what?”

“Got rid of her real fast.”

You rolled your eyes, arms crossed. “She was bein’ loud. And rude.”

“Mmhmm.”

You shot him a look but he was already smirking again, turning the air into tension thick enough to cut.

It went quiet for a beat, but not awkward. Just slow, warm… charged.

“Can’t believe you still want that gas money kiss,” you murmured, shaking your head.

“Oh, I want it.” His voice was velvet. “But not ‘cause of the gas.”

“Oh?”

“I just like seein’ you flustered.”

“Flustered?” you scoffed, even as heat crept up your neck.

He leaned in, close enough to catch your breath.

“Yeah… right about now,” he murmured, and you realized he was only inches from your face.

Then his fingers gently touched your chin, tilting your head up not rough, not demanding. Just steady. Sure.

You blinked, breath hitching. He was so close now you could see the gold flecks in his eyes, the curve of that smug little smile.

You leaned in, just a little, barely.

And he grinned.

“Ain’t gon’ kiss you without consent,” he whispered, playful but sincere, voice dipped in reverence. “I’m still a man of God, baby.”

You froze, lips parted, caught somewhere between a curse and a prayer.

He pulled back like nothing happened.

“Be right back,” he said, already opening the door. “Gotta go fetch my uncle before y’all call search and rescue.”

And just like that he was gone, leaving the door swinging open behind him and your heart tap dancing like a gospel drummer.

You sat there in the driver’s seat, jaw dropped, breath stuck in your throat, heat creeping up your chest.

Man of God, huh?

Lord have mercy…

Taglist:

@cosmicautomatonshark @fanfictiononly4 @pinkpantheris @andthatsonmaryhadalillamb @sweetalittleselfish-honey @bleufu1 @fruitypatooties-blog

[rafessecret]

⋆˚࿔ star¡ reader && loser¡rafe cameron

I'LL DO LITERALLY ANYTHING SHE WANTS.

Rafe’s been plotting for weeks.

It started the first time he saw you at the skate park, sitting on the grassy edge with your book, legs tucked to your chest, sipping from a pastel pink drink. You weren’t even watching the ramps or paying attention to the noise or the boys showing off. But Rafe saw you. And that was enough. He’s been trying to figure out how to talk to you ever since. But every time he gets close, he forgets how to function. His brain short-circuits. His vocabulary vanishes. He ends up doing a kickflip too close or trying to land a rail just to get your attention, and it never works. You don’t even flinch. You just keep reading.

The house party is already buzzing when you arrive, porch lights glowing, music thumping through the walls, kids spilling into the yard with red cups and wild stories. The air smells like beer and weed and expensive cologne, and somewhere inside, Rafe Cameron is practically vibrating. He's dragging Topper by the sleeve through the living room, weaving past tipsy girls and dudes in snapbacks, eyes darting like he's on a mission. Because he is. He saw your name on the party list days ago and has been spiralling ever since. Plotting. Rehearsing. Sweating through his shirt just imagining it.

❝Okay, okay—dude, listen,❞ Rafe says, practically bouncing in his sneakers. ❝Go up to her. Say I’m a...fucking’ DJ or something. Say I opened for Metro Boomin. Say I got invited to Coachella.❞ Topper gives him a flat look. ❝You got banned from Coachella.❞ ❝Details, bro. She doesn’t need to know that. Just say I’m, like, mysterious. Say I was a child prodigy.❞ ❝You dropped out sophomore year.❞ Rafe grabs his shoulders. ❝Bro. I am BEGGING you. Please. Just tell her I think she’s really pretty and cool and I’d, like...literally do anything. Like, anything she wants. I’ll get into astrology. I’ll stop vaping. I’ll buy her one of those pink Hydro Flasks.❞

Topper rolls his eyes but trudges toward you, muttering under his breath. Rafe ducks behind a support beam near the kitchen, peeking out like a cartoon villain. He’s so obvious it’s painful. You’re posted up near the drink table, sipping something too sweet and too strong, already clocking Rafe from across the room. Hoodie half-on, backwards hat crooked, knee bandaged from a failed skate trick, Monster can sticking out of his hoodie pocket. He’s nervously adjusting his chains and fidgeting with the hem of his shirt like it's betraying his confidence. His eyes are big and bright and locked entirely on you.

The music’s loud bass thudding through the floor, coloured lights flickering against glittered walls, everything tasting like cheap vodka and summer sweat. You’re pressed near the kitchen doorway, plastic cup in hand, when Topper appears out of nowhere. He looks like he’s been sent on a mission he didn’t sign up for – conflicted, mildly annoyed, and mildly amused. ❝Okay, so, weird one,❞ he starts, scratching his neck. ❝My buddy over there—you know, the one pacing behind that fake palm tree like a Sims character? Yeah, him—he, uh, thinks you’re cute. Like, really cute. And sweet. Like, ‘makes-my-stomach-hurt’ sweet.❞

You blink, thrown off. ❝Rafe?❞ Topper nods and sighs, then continues, clearly reciting. ❝He says he’s a professional skater. That’s a lie. He says he’s chill. That’s another lie. But he’s, uh… enthusiastic. He’s been planning this for—❞ He pauses, glances over his shoulder at Rafe, who is actively doing the opposite of playing it cool. He’s bouncing. Literally bouncing in place. Hat askew, hoodie half-off, knuckles bruised from something stupid. He looks like a boy who got told Santa was real again.

❝—for weeks, actually. You, uh, waved at him once.❞ ❝Once?❞ ❝on the beach because he was staring the whole time, and you probably thought it would make him go away. He wrote, like, a marriage monologue about it. I’ve read it. It’s concerning. But endearing, I guess.❞ You glance past Topper again. Rafe spots you looking and trips over his own foot trying to look casual. It doesn’t work. He straightens his hoodie, then messes with his hair like it’ll fix the fact that he’s practically vibrating with hope. You glance past Topper. He is beaming now. Like, full teeth, twitchy grin, bouncing on his heels like a golden retriever who just spotted a tennis ball.

His outfit is chaos—black hoodie with safety pins holding a tear together, cargo pants with grass stains, rings clinking against the can he crushes nervously in one hand. He’s stuffed gym muscle and a chaotic heart into a boy-shaped blender and hit purée. And somehow, it works. Topper rubs the bridge of his nose. ❝Anyway. He begged me to talk to you. Said, and I quote, he’d do ‘literally anything’ if you just gave him a chance. Like, he was making deals with the universe on the way over here. It was dramatic.❞

You purse your lips, trying not to smile too obviously, your gaze flicking between Topper and Rafe. ❝But he’s not coming over here himself?❞ ❝If he did, he’d combust.❞ You glance back toward Rafe, and he’s still behind that fake tree, eyes wide, mouth moving frantically like he’s asking, ❝Is it working?!❞ It’s… kind of cute. Ridiculous, but cute. The way he’s fidgeting, nervously adjusting his hat, trying to stay cool but failing spectacularly. Your smile softens.

❝Tell him… yeah, okay. Tell him yes.❞ Topper nods. Topper groans and trudges back through the crowd. ❝She said, Yeah, Rafe.❞ Rafe jumps. A full-body, feet-off-the-ground, giddy little leap like he can’t help it. Then he claps Topper on the back with so much force he nearly knocks the boy over. He mouths a stunned little ❝She said yes?!❞ and Topper just nods, already over it.

Rafe beams. Practically explodes. He tries to fix his hat, fails, then flattens his palms over his shirt like it’ll calm his heart down. It doesn’t. He leans back against the wall, grinning into the air like the world just shifted beneath his feet. You catch yourself giggling, shaking your head. You’re still a little confused—he’s so tall and serious-looking from afar, but seeing him all flustered like that? It’s throwing you off in the best way. Maybe it’s not what you expected, but it’s sweet.

Topper, now on his way back toward you, pauses and holds out Rafe's phone. ❝He forgot to get your number. I’ll put it in.❞ You blink, amused. ❝He sent you to get that too?❞ ❝Yep. I hate it here.❞

── ⋆ 𝐲𝐚𝐩 : umm hey angels . . . do we like. this one’s probably not smut, i just can’t see it that way. it feels a little different for me but loser!rafe still begs, don’t worry. hope it does okay even if it’s soft instead of filthy lol

── ⋆ 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒔 : @scne-vampire @browniepop62 @urcoolgf @folksriddle @loverliner @delicatelyquiet @rafeysbrat @amelialovesrafe

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