Warmth

Warmth

Summary: There are several bedrolls but Astarion makes his way to yours. Not for the reasons you'd expect, though. Set at the start of act 2, only a few days after entering the Shadow-Cursed Lands and its lethal climate.

Pairing: Astarion x gn!Reader

Rating: T, no warnings

Word count: 1.4k

Tags: fluff, comfort, pre-relationship, developing feelings, more than friends (?), banter, wholesome, sfw

A/n: So uhh, my hand slipped?? For the purpose of this short and sweet brabble, elves sort of sleep. Yes, Astarion is a diva but what's new?? Any constructive feedback is welcome :)

All was quiet at camp tonight. You'd had dinner. So had Karlach, Wyll, Lae'Zel, Shadowheart and Halsin. Gale had had his fill, courtesy of an old amulet that you knew you'd have no use for. Even Astarion had been fed.

The hunger was sated, at least to some extent, and after a long day of walking, climbing and crouching, you had all agreed to call it a night. Not because you didn't have any ideas for entertainment, but rather because the sheer exhaustion had rendered everyone absolutely useless.

The flames of the campfire were slowly dying, leaving only glowing embers that emitted a last bit of warmth in the cool night. While some retreated to their tents, others had spread their bedrolls out around the campfire, to try to warm themselves up enough to sleep for the night. You had also decided to remain by the fire, hoping to be able to fall asleep despite the crisp breeze.

You snuggled into your bedroll and got comfortable. It barely took any time for you to fall asleep, with Shadowheart's soft and regular snoring breathing soothing you like a lullaby. Your rest was cut short by a sudden chill in your bones. You woke up, freezing, shivering. As you opened your eyes, you saw that the embers had finally died down completely and turned to cold ashes. Everyone around you seemed to be sleeping deeply, a regenerative rest they had well deserved.

Your eyes still felt heavy from awaking so suddenly, your head was drowsy... All you wanted to do was to fall asleep again. Just a few more hours, just to have enough energy on the next day...

But the cold was seeping through the fabric: your nose and ears, your feet, your lower back... Everything felt cold.

Ever since entering the Shadow-cursed Lands, the cold was always hanging in the air: an unnatural feeling gnawing at your bones, clinging to your skin.

You tried to curl up into a ball, to keep all the warmth in one place and avoid the freezing feeling from spreading further. You weren't sure it was working. You tied your shawl closer around your head. You turned, multiple times. You tried to keep your eyes shut, to pretend to sleep. But the cold only grew stronger.

All of a sudden, you felt a hand on your mouth, preventing you from screaming. Even in your shock, you couldn't even gasp. You couldn't see who it was, as they were crouching behind your back. But you knew. Only one person could move so quietly.

His hand, which was usually even cooler than the night air, was almost as warm as your skin. With his other hand, he pulled your shoulder and made you roll on your back. His piercing gaze was anything but calm.

"Shhhh. Don't be scared, it's me. Can I take my hand off? You're not gonna scream now, right? No need to alert the whole camp..."

You simply nodded. Your heart was still racing, but you knew you were safe, it was just Astarion. It might've been racing for other reasons now.

He slowly removed his hand, still scowling.

"Is everything alright?" You asked him. There must've been a reason for this behaviour.

"Can't sleep? Yeah, me neither..."

"Well, I've noticed. I can't sleep either, darling. And you know why? Because you've been tossing and turning and shifting all this time!" he whisper-shouted.

"Do you know how incredibly loud sheets can be, when someone is rolling over in their bed every thirty seconds?!", he added.

Even if you were wide awake now, his obviously rhetorical question didn't earn an answer from you. You just looked at him, dumbfounded.

"Hang on... Are you seriously blaming me for trying to sleep??", you asked him, your tone full of reproach.

"I'm blaming you for making noise and disturbing my slumber!" he retorted.

"Well, Astarion, I'm sorry your ears are so sensitive! As you can see, no one else is awake at this ungodly hour, complaining about how much noise I allegedly make while trying to sleep!!" This time, you were whisper-shouting, eyeing the other companions, who seemed to hear none of what was happening at your bedroll.

Astarion looked around, still brooding. It was true, everyone was sleeping, still. He decided they didn't deserve to be robbed of the rest they so cruelly needed. He sat down next to you.

You sat up, resting on your elbows and looked up to him. He seemed to have regained some composure, he looked... Lost in thoughts, perhaps?

"Look... I'm sorry." You started, once again not knowing what you were apologising for, a recurring theme with him.

A fresh gust of wind made your skin crawl as you tried to cover yourself some more.

"I can't sleep because I'm fucking freezing!"

"Oh, and here I thought you were fighting demons in your head alone again", he answered plainly.

His tone made you feel guilty. You thought that perhaps, he hadn't been able to sleep for other reasons, prior to you waking up.

"Were you?", you asked tentatively.

"No, I wasn't. And if I had been, I wouldn't have talked about it with you! I would've talked with... Uhm... With..." He stopped. Then chuckled to himself.

He was lying again, there was no one. Or so he thought...

"Well, if anything comes up, you can talk to me next time. But maybe not necessarily in the middle of the night. If it can be avoided..." You tried, with a shy smile.

He looked back to you, his eyes less hopeless now, his smile almost earnest.

"So... You're cold right? I know what that's like... Move over, make some space!" He whispered, in a commanding tone.

"What??"

"Well, let me in!" He added, opening the side of your bedroll.

"We won't be suffering from the cold as much if we share our heat", he explained very factually. Gale was starting to rub off on him, you feared.

As you still didn't really react, he added "Don't be coy now, it's not like we haven't been this close before..." The cold from the open blanket, or perhaps his sly grin, made you shiver. And you complied, making space for him under the sheets.

"You'll be able to sleep because you'll be less cold, and I'll finally be able to sleep because your restlessness won't bother me anymore."

"Right. Much better, isn't it?"

He would never have admitted out loud but he was grateful for the warmth. Other than being cold, the nights were lonely and unrelentless lately.

"Good night now, I hope you fall asleep quickly, for both of our sakes!"

You smiled. Astarion was practically insulting you to your face, but you simply smiled. Despite his harsh words, he was still sharing a bedroll with you, after all...

"Good night, Astarion. May some rest help that awful temper of yours", you retorted with a chuckle.

You heard him scoff in the back of your neck but didn't pay it much thought. His body was now sheltering yours and you already felt much more at peace. Perhaps the warmth came from the faint body heat he radiated, perhaps it came from within you: in spite of everything he was and said, you did like having him around...

Quiet as a corpse, Astarion was probably drifting off, or so you hoped. In a last effort to get more comfortable in the tight bedroll, he slinked his arm around you, pulling you slightly closer to him. And so you fell asleep in his arms, rather quickly too.

You woke up as the sun was just starting to rise on the horizon. You opened your eyes and saw that none of your companions had awoken yet.

You looked down towards your hand and saw that Astarion's fingers were laced with yours. You hadn't noticed at all during the night but it instantly made you feel more comfortable. Still, you felt the need to get up.

"Are you awake?" you asked, knowing that he probably was. "I'm going to go eat something now."

"Or you could stay..." He answered in the faintest whisper. He still hadn't let go of your hand. There, as the Morninglord graced the world with his radiance again, you decided that you could, indeed, stay just a little longer, for both of your sakes, and enjoy the comfort of this quiet morning together.

Awesome dividers by @cafekitsune

𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐬

warnings: fem!reader x costar!joe, reader has insomnia, a little bit of angst but a lot of fluff to make up for it

silly little note: i started writing this fic last summer but then writer's block hit me like a brick and i never finished it til now. pls give me ur feedback! hope you like it <3

𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩, 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞?

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you can’t exactly remember how you ended up here, sleeping on your coworker’s chest while he has his arm wrapped around you.

you remember coming into his room at four in the morning because you couldn’t sleep, you remember him inviting you in, you remember crawling on his bed to ‘talk’, you remember getting so close that you were able to feel his breath on your face but you don’t remember closing your eyes let alone falling asleep.

the rays of the sun beaming through the curtains are soft, coral red and vivid orange. the colors of the sunrise. it’s probably nearing 6am. i can’t believe i slept for almost two hours, you thought.

opening your eyelids a little more, you catch a glipmse of his hand, holding his phone on his exposed tummy and aggresively moving his thumb left and right on the bright screen. you squint your eyes at the brightness and lift your head away from it, looking up at him. his brows are frowned in concentration and his lips are pouted, giving his undivided attention to whatever it is he’s doing on his phone. he looks adorable, like a cat focused on catching the laser.

you spend a few seconds watching him before he catches you staring and breaks into a smile, immediately putting his phone down so he can focus on you. “you’re awake.. hi” he says softly, keeping his voice low and gentle. “did you sleep well darling?”

you mumble a ‘hi’ before nodding at him. despite that it was such a short sleep, it doesn’t feel like that. it feels like you’ve been asleep for eternity, a celestial eternity.

“what time is it?”

“seven thirty four..”

oh so you’ve slept for longer than you thought, that explains it.

“at night.”

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joseph moved in with you two months ago. you were casted together for a movie, a psychological thriller of a normal, happy married couple living in the subrubs. the husband’s a murder detective investigating the brutal deaths of young women and the wife’s a surgeon who’s too skilled for her own good. the husband notices a pattern of the killings, all the women had the same hair color, the same eye color and the same body type as you. none of them had any restraint marks on their bodies meaning they didn’t try to resist by fighting or that they were forcibly held down. they were sedated and cut up by a professional, someone who knew their way around the human body and their hands were used to holding a fine knife. they were killed by a surgeon.

joseph was the husband and you the wife. he was filming away from his home so he needed somewhere not too expensive to stay and just as conviently, you broke up with your boyfriend six weeks before you got the role and being a struggling actress, you needed a roommate.

he moved in a week after you met. he suggeted it in a drunken moment but it stayed with you so the next day when you both sobered up, you asked him to move in and he happily obliged. one day later, he was settled in.

joseph was undeniably the best roommate you’ve ever had and yes, that includes your boyfriend, shit, your ex boyfriend. he paid his part of the rent on time, you never had to remind him to do it. he insisted to buy all the groceries since “you’ve already bought everything else for the apartment” and when you said no, he negotiated for do a 70/30 on the pills and turned out, he’s a master negotiator.

when he cooked, he always cooked for two, even during the days when you weren’t home. he’d leave your food in the microwave or saran wrap it and put it in the fridge with a little note that says “for you, i promise it’s not poisoned. joe :)” and cleaned up after himself which was nice and new to you. your ex never did. he made messes and left them for you to deal with. physically and mentally.

joe was everything you’d want in a roommate. but him being both your roomate and costar meant that you spent a hundred precent of your time with him. there was no escaping him. not that you wanted to, he was a great guy, smart, funny, the type of guy you feel safe enough to get drunk in an isolated space with, to not hide your overnight breakout acne or dark side from, to tell secrets to. joe was everything you’d want in a friend.

but joe was also observant. it was a trait you of his that you loved just as much as you hated it.

you loved that he learned your coffee order after hearing you say it one time because from that day forward, he saved you a run to the cafe. you hated that he knew why you needed that much caffeine without you ever having to tell him. he just pieced the pieces together when he saw heard you refer to yesterday as ‘today’, when he heard you ask the makeup artist to apply more concelear under your eyes, when everyday he woke up, no matter how early, you were always wake before him.

you’re not sure why you tried to hide it like a dirty secret. you knew there was nothing wrong with it, it wasn’t affecting anybody except you yet for some reason you felt guilty for it. maybe it was because your mother constantly made you feel like it was some sort of shame you should hide, like something was wrong with you. “all the kids are sleeping, everyone is. everyone except for you. you’re awake like an owl. do you know who stays up this late? only ghouls do. i’m going to bed and you missy, you can stay up with the monsters all by yourself.” she’d say and lock your door, leave little you to cry with her eyes squeezed shut and her head under the pillow.

you were old enough now to know that monsters aren’t real now but the feeling of fear still lingeried, so did the sound of disappointment in your mother’s voice.

you didn’t want to disappoint anyone else so you just hid it from everyone.

but joe was good at finding things.

he never brought it up though, not directly but he did let you know that he knew and that he understood.

one night he suggested that you two should stay up together, ‘have a sleepover’ he said. you asked him isn’t that what you do everyday? since you’re roommates and all? and he said that isn’t the point of a sleepover because according to him, a sleepover is sleeping on the floor, watching comfort movies and eating junk food until you’re feeling sick. you couldn’t aruge with that.

you tried everything. mediation, melatonin, masterbation, exhausting yourself to the point of passing out but nothing worked so a sleepover with your friend didn’t sound like the worst thing. in fact, it didn’t sound bad at all.

he set up ‘the sleepover zone’ as he called it in the living room by laying make-shift mattresses on the floor with weighted blankets, tossing pillows on top with them then throwing the couch cushions on the sides, making it look like a fortress. he had bowls filled with all sorts of junk foods your trainer would have a stroke over and where you expected to see liquor, instead there was fuzzy drinks. just sodas. the set up was ridiculous, if you didn’t know your thirty year old roommate made it, you would’ve assumed it was the work of a child eager to have their first sleepover.

“i promise i’ll tidy it up tomorrow.” was the first thing he said when he saw you standing and staring at his work. little did he know that you couldn’t care less about tidying right now, let alone about tomorrow.

you were just happy to be there. with him.

“and you better expect no help from me.” you tease him as you jump into the pillow town he’s made, pulling the blanket all the way up to your chin, immediately getting comfortable.

“absolutely none.” he smiled and turned off the lights, leaving the living room to be lit by only the movie on the television. the aristocats.

how did he even know that was your comfort movie?

joe laid down beside you with his own blanket, nothing separating you except the bowls of junk food he’d put in the middle where your fingers occasionally and accidentally touched, multiple times. each time you felt a miniature flame and you wondered if he could feel it too.

forty five minutes into the movie, your head begun to feel drowsy and your eyelids seem to have a mind of their own, slowly heaving and closing.

you tried to keep your focus on the illuminated screen but sounds started to crisp in the distance. you felt emptiness where the bowls took place but you were too dozy to question it. your relaxed muscles curling into themselves as you allow your eyes some rest, just for five minutes.

“goodnight baby.” you hazily imagined joe said then you imagined him kissing your head.

it felt so real. it felt like it truly happened.

but it must’ve been just a dream.

joe laid on his side after his lips touched your skin, staring at you, wishing he could keep you sound, safe and serene like this.

he’s seen how you struggle to sleep, knew how you pace behind your closed door late at night and heard all of the various methods you’ve tried to put yourself to rest and witnessed how they’ve all failed in the early morning when he saw you in the standing in the kitchen, your hands shaking as you hold your spoon.

this was his attempt of offering a helping hand. he didn’t expect it to work but he hoped it would at best put you to rest and at worst keep you company.

little did he know he did both.

you arose with the sunrise. it was still dark inside your shared apartment but sun rays were coming in through the cracks of your blinds.

five more minutes, you thought sleepily, burying your head into your pillow but it wasn’t your pillow, was it?

startled that your silk pillowcase has suddenly started to feel more like human flesh, your eyes shot open. you tried to pull away from the spot in his neck where you’ve been hiding but something heavy was draped over you, annihilating your attempts at moving.

his arm.

he’s holding you.

he’s holding you and you yawn, somnolence crawling back into your body.

he’s warm and he’s here but he’s your flatmate and your coworker but god it feels so good to sleep and he’s so warm.

just five more minutes. five more minutes can’t hurt, right?

it the history of him living with you, he’s never woken up before you so it’s not like he’s going to now, right?

right.

you allow yourself to nuzzle into his neck once more for just five minutes, feeling his scruff on your cheek. you breathe him in. fuck he smells nice and fuck that was such an intimate thing to do but how can you speak of odd intimacy when you’re sleeping in his arms like he’s your lover?

no no. you can’t be having thoughts like that.

you can’t jeopardize your job but more so, can’t jeopardize your friendship.

it’s only fine as long as he doesn’t know and it’s only fine as long as it never happens again.

clock’s ticking, your time is running out. each second is another breath you’ll never take while basking in his warmth again.

waiting on time was torturous so you cut it short, gently grabbing his draped arm and wiggling yourself out of his hold.

your arms instantly found your body, wrapped around your figure to hold onto the remaining heat you’ve borrowed from his endless blaze.

and he dares to look that good when he’s asleep, you thought as you stared down at him before padding your way towards your room. falling head first into your abandoned sheets, the chill of it sends shivers down your spine.. or maybe it’s just the thought of him.

no no. it’s the cold. has to be. it’s just the cold. definitely not the feelings for your coworker that you’ve been smothering. it’s just the cold.

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memories of that night have crept into your mind ever so often. how easily sleep came to you, how good it felt to close your eyes and not have them protest the rest you’re desperately needing. how nice it was to wake up in joseph’s arms with your head hidden underneath his, tucked away safely, soundly.

weeks passed and he never spoke of the sleepover again. he probably doesn’t even know what he did for you that night. he’s just your friend again, he doesn’t even know that for one blissful night, he was your only relief.

and now it’s been three days and four nights since your mind last let you rest and you’re aching for that relief again.

you’ve been pacing in your room. this time with a new thought in the forefront of your mind. a thought of the bed in the room that lays down the corridor and the man laying in it behind the door.

you shouldn’t be entertaining let alone contemplating that thought yet here you are, grabbing your door’s knob and twisting it.

you shouldn’t be taking the steps to your coworker’s room yet here you are, standing at his door.

you shouldn’t disturb him at the early hours of the day, he could be sleeping, he could be well.. busy yet here you are, walking into his space after you’ve heard his soft “come in”

you shouldn’t stare at him like that and you shouldn’t give in when he offers you his hand, beaconing you into the way you’ve daydreamed of taking yet here you are, hand in his as you wordlessly climb into his bed, under his covers, letting your body melt into the oddly familiar heat of his sheets, of him.

you shouldn’t let your brain get all distorted when he’s talking, shouldn’t let your heavy eyes blink for more than three seconds, should’ve paid him more attention yet here you are, willingly surrendering.

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“what time is it?”

“seven thirty four at night.”

you pull away from him and he lets you, sitting up in bed jarred, holding your head in your hands and rubbing at your eyes so hard you’re worried they’d fall too deep into their sockets.

“what do you mean?”

“i mean you slept for fifteen hours baby.” you can hear the smile in his voice and see it radiating on his face once you look at him.

fifteen hours..

you can’t recall the last time you slept for that long, not even sure if you ever have.

“i’ve been thinking i should change my name to melatonin, what do you think?” he jokes and you slap a pillow against his face leaving him chuckling.

“i don’t know how it happened.” you begin to say and remember something he’d told you the previous night, “oh my god joe you had the thing with your friends today! the aquarium.” he’s been talking about it for the past two weeks. his friends are coming from london and they’ve planned to visit the aquarium. he’s been beside himself with excitement. he bought tickets online and everything. yesterday he told you he’s going at three in the afternoon before offering you a spare ticket which you politely turned down.

and now he didn’t get to go either.

“it’s okay.” his scrunches his face, “told them something important came up and i couldn’t make it. they understand.” he smiles at you, him and his stupid smile that makes your stupid heart beat all quick and stupid. why does he have to be so understanding and so sweet?

“i’m sorr..”

“don’t.” he cuts you off before you could finish that word. “come here.” your body obeys before your mind could second guess it, crawling back into his open arm and letting your head rest on his chest. “i’m glad i didn’t go.” he utters out then kisses your head, it feels exactly the way you imagined that night on the floor in the livingroom.

did you really imagine it?

“so am i.” you whisper.

fuck the job and fuck the friendship.

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tags: @hazzaismyreligion @fantastic-fox @sugarheart-riot @phyllosilicate-s @becca-alexa @quinnsfae14 @munson-enthusiast @lovinvane @ficsbypix @josephfakingquinn @munsonluvrr @eddies-puppet @mattyhealyssideburn @flawiette @joeydoeeyes @ethereal-eddie86 @andrearose89 @musicmoviestv @witchwolflea

eddie would be the one to hold you down to cuddle. like full on press you into the couch with the full weight of his body.

“eddie-“ you’d groan, barely able to breathe with the way his chest was pinning you to the couch cushions. he hadn’t even bothered to take off his belt chain, just the clunky jacket/vest combo that he’d dropped on the hook beside the door on his way inside.

“shut up. we’re. cuddling,” he’d say into the skin of your shoulder. it’d be the hottest day of the summer, too. a day where you’re already struggling to fight the heat seeping into the trailer.

“it’s hot,” you’d whine. he wouldn’t care, clamping his arms against your sides even tighter like that was the defining factor in your getting up.

“shh, let it happen,” he’d say.

“jesus christ, you’re annoying.”

“says you. won’t even let me snuggle in peace.”

common tongue of you lovin' me

🍯 honey flavour: touchstarved loverboy smut

🐝 the bees: Eddie x reader

wc: 2.5k 

content warnings: nervous Eddie, touchstarved R, smut, dry humping (is it actually dry if they’re both wet…?), cumming in pants, one (1) use of the word “daddy”, light use of the miscommunication trope

foreword: based on THIS anon everyone say THANKS anon. R and Eddie are in their early 20’s, R is on a gap year from college (so me), they’re in a new relationship with each other, I’m writing this while blasted on edibles idk what else to say 0_o

____

By nature, Eddie Munson is not a shy person.

Even though his dark reputation in Hawkins hasn’t been completely erased, he still manages to make friends wherever he goes through sheer force of personality. It’s like a magic trick, one that you never get tired of- he’ll pause in the middle of grocery stores to make faces at a baby in a stroller, getting belly laughs out of a stranger’s kid in less than ten seconds while still holding your hand down the aisle. One second he’s right behind you in the record store, looking over your shoulder as you browsed, and the next he’ll be on one knee charming a elementary school-aged kid into getting the latest Dio album.

You’ve seen him flirt his way out of speeding tickets with Hopper, for christ’s sake. 

Eddie isn’t shy by any stretch of the imagination, so after three months of nothing but chaste kisses and quiet hand-holding, you’re left to assume he actually wants to take things slow with you.

He’s been nothing but a gentleman, in these early days of dating- the most action you’ve gotten from him was unintentional. On your third date, a dollop of his ice cream landed on your lap when he used the cone to gesture, which led him to manically grabbing napkins out of his dashboard to wipe at your skirt while you laughed it off. The second he’d brushed against your bare thigh he snapped his hands back like he’d touched a live wire, hastily heaping on apologies, leaving you to allay his nerves while wiping at the stain yourself.  

Which, whatever. It’s fine. It’s not like you’re complaining about him being respectful, per se, it’s just that it’s getting harder and harder (hah) to pretend like you don’t wanna fuck him. The feeling between your thighs only seems to increase in intensity when he gives you one of those precious little hand kisses at the end of a date, or a closed-mouth peck before he drives off into the night. 

Unfortunately for you and your wet dreams, Eddie Munson has the most edible body you’ve ever seen. Biceps bulging through those form-fitting tees he likes to wear, rounded nose and strong jaw outlined by that cloud of soft black hair, those lithe hips…

Hips that you’re openly staring at from across the room as you sit quietly on Eddie’s couch. He’s reaching up to grab a mug from the cabinet, his Metallica tee pulling up out of his dark denim at the motion, flashing a stripe of his pale lower back.  

You feel like a Victorian maid seeing ankle for the first time. You subtly press your thighs together under your short tartan skirt as Eddie moves around the kitchen, talking animatedly about the start of his upcoming campaign.

“I haven’t decided yet if I’m gonna go easy on the little shits or not,” he says, metal spoon clinking against ceramic as he mixes hot chocolate powder. “It’s Max’s first session as an official player, and I don’t wanna scare her off but I do have a reputation to uphold.”

“Yeah,” you agree, giving him a knowing smile as he crosses the room to pass you your mug- “You’re a DM most fearsome. Can’t let them off the hook too easily.”

Eddie blooms under your praise, wiggling his eyebrows with familiar cockiness as he settles on the cushion beside you. “Gotta keep Hawkins' finest in line. It’s a tough gig but I did swear an oath, after all.”

You smile around a sip of hot cocoa, then reach over to set your mug on the coffee table. Eddie has been sat in his usual manner (knees far enough apart to be taking up his whole seat, arm draped casually on the back of the couch) but the second your knee knocks against his, he adjusts himself stiffly, drawing his arm back with a nervous throat-clearing and a murmured “sorry”.

Normally you’d let it go, not wanting to push the issue past the point of his comfortability. But it’s been Three. Months. Of this. And you wanna test the waters, just a little.

“Sorry for what?” You ask, rotating to face him, your shoulders almost-but-not-quite touching.

He’d doing an uncanny impression of a deer caught in headlights, blinking at you with those doey brown eyes, stuttering his way through a weak explanation- “Uh… uh. Sorry for being- f-for touching you?”

There’s a lift at the end of his sentence, one that you mirror with a tilt of your own brow, a playful challenge. “You don’t have to apologize for touching me, Eddie. I’m your girlfriend.”

He chuckles, a nervous edge bleeding around the sound. The curls around his face dance with the head shake he gives. “No, of course, yeah, I know that.”

“Do you?” You scoot closer, a kick of assertiveness giving you the courage to press your leg against his. 

“Uh huh.” He’s gazing openly now at the bare skin of your thigh, like he’s waiting to see if it'll burn a hole into his denim. 

When you gently lift his hand and place it on the skin that he’s looking at, you hear him gulp, audibly. 

So he does want to touch you. Interesting.  

You know for a fact Eddie’s not a virgin. Back in high school, you’d both dated around your respective circles, gossip surrounding escapades in the Munson Van circulating back to you through mutual friends. When he’d asked you out a few months previous, you’d happily accepted, wanting to take full advantage of your interim gap year from college. For the first few weeks, you’d chalked his near-celibate behavior up to nerves.

But now, you’ve got him squirming with just a thigh touch. So maybe… he’s waiting for you to make the first move?

Fuck testing the waters- you’re gonna dive in head-first. 

You swing your leg over his lap, kneeling on the outside of his hips. His hands automatically go to your waist, and he lets out a little “Oh” as you rest your arms around his shoulders.

“You gonna kiss your girlfriend?” you whisper, forehead crushing into his bangs as you wrap a hand around the back of his neck.

Eddie looks up at you like he’s seeing a full moon for the first time, eyes sparkling with want. “Yeah,” he rasps, angling his face up to kiss you.

It’s soft, at first, like it always has been. His plush lips softly move against yours, breaking for air once, twice; when he kisses you with that same softness for a third time you press your tongue to the seam between his lips.

He lets you in with a little noise, low in the back of his throat as you lick into his mouth. His hands twitch on your hips as your tongues twine, slight movements in his own hips creating a ripple effect.

When the hard seam of his jeans bumps against the warmth of your cunt, you both gasp, your hand at the back of his neck tightening. 

“We should probably, um-” he’s panting against your mouth, grip flexing between hard and soft- “I mean, if you wanna stop…”

“I don’t wanna stop. Do you wanna stop?” you ask, equally out of breath.

“Fuck no,” he rasps again, in that smoke-salt voice, and this time when he kisses you it’s with one hand at the back of your head and the other pulling your hips to meet his.

The noises from the wet slide of your mouths are turning you on more than you care to admit, and you’re sure he can feel the damp patch that’s soaking through your panties as the crotch of his jeans make contact again. Which normally would make you feel really self-conscious, if it weren’t for the fact that Eddie’s hard as a rock underneath you, the bulge in his pants thickening with each roll of your hips.

You drop your kisses down, exploring where you haven’t been able to before: against his cheek, his jaw, stopping just behind his ear. Unable to help yourself, you graze your teeth against the velvet skin there, and he jolts beneath you with a small yelp.

“Sorry,” you whisper, still a touch mirthful but soothing your tongue over the mark.

Eddie brushes his thumb across the back of your neck as you continue your path down the column of his throat. “Now who’s sayin’ sorry for no reason. Baby, I’m begging you to do that again.”

So you do, this time at the junction where his neck and shoulder meet, grinning against his skin when he groans and bucks his hips up. 

Around your hickey-making, he’s choking out words that you just manage to string together. “I wanna… make you feel- christ, sweetheart- good too, wanna make it good for you-”

When you sit up to see his face, he looks absolutely wrecked- rosy flush in his cheeks, lips swollen and kiss-bitten, pupils blown so big his eyes are nearly black with lust.

“You are making me feel good,” you assure him, pulling the hand he’s got on your neck down to where the end of your skirt sits, pausing before your next move. “You want me to prove it?”

He nods, and you guide him into the warmth of your thighs, letting his fingers graze the stickiness that’s been steadily soaking through the fabric.

Eddie inhales sharply, moans out, “Fuck, honey”, and when his thumb finds your clit you sink down into his touch, stomach tightening with the shock of arousal coursing through you.

He’s watching your face intently as he slowly circles your clit, gauging your reactions, pressing in a bit harder and faster when the pace change makes you cry out.

Feeling doubly exposed with his eye contact and hand against your core, you try making a joke to diffuse some of the tension as the pad of his finger moves against you in steady rhythm. “Still thinkin’ about stopping?”

“A train could crash through that wall and it wouldn’t stop me for a second,” Eddie says, resolute and getting a little braver, kissing his own path across your throat, nibbling at a spot that makes your clit pulse beneath his fingertip and your cunt clench around nothing. 

Goddamn, he’s a quick learner. In less than two minutes he’s got you so close to the edge, squirming around his touch, that you have to grab his wrist and still his fingers between your thighs.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. You can feel his breath punching up down up, your breasts pushed up against his chest from the way your body was trying to coil in on itself.

“Nothing,” you assure him, and now it’s your turn to falter around your words. “I just- maybe can I… I wanna get o-off at the same time. If you want. And I’m really, really close.”

Eddie’s head falls back against the couch with a thunk, eyes scrunching shut as if in concentration, a strung-out whine leaving his throat. “Hang on. Give me a second.”

He’s still got his hand on your clothed pussy, and you can’t help but giggle once he blinks back to the present, dazed- “Christ. You can’t say shit like that, baby, I almost came in my jeans.”

You give him a condescending little pout, accented with another twist of your hips. “Well maybe that’s what I want.”

“Give you anything,” Eddie replies, unabashedly babbling now as you adjust yourself in his lap. “Anything you want, sweetheart. It’s yours. All yours.”

He helps you maneuver into a new angle: now, your drenched core can rub freely against his thigh, while your knee in the socket of his hip means he can rut his cock along the flat of your leg.

When you move experimentally in shallow circles on his thigh, the newly-gained friction lights up your throbbing clit. Soon, all pretenses melt away as you both find your rhythm again, little grunts and pants filling the air.

“Feel good, angel? That’s it,” Eddie encourages, slipping his hand under your skirt to grope at the meat of your ass, helping your movements along as he chases his own pleasure with a rocking grind against your leg. “Take what you need. Lemme get you there. Please, please…”

His whines spur you on, one of your hands shooting out to clutch at the back of the couch beside his head while the other anchors itself on his opposing bicep. “Fuck, Eddie, keep talking like that, ‘m so close…”

“Talk to you all day,” he heaves out, “you make me so fucking hard, princess. You feel how hard I am for you? God, you’re so wet, that’s so fucking hot…”

You should have expected that bravado and charm you’ve seen these last few years to naturally be carried over into his sex life, but god, not in your wettest of dreams could you have imagined the mouth on him. 

The combination of his dirty talk and thigh between your legs is bringing you right up to that edge again, toes curling in anticipation, cunt starting to flutter erratically with every thrust.

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna come…” your head rolls back on its hinge, eyes flickering shut as Eddie fumbles to catch at your clit again, movements becoming sloppy. 

“C’mon, pretty baby, let go.” He’s sucking another mark into your neck between his praises, teeth catching- “Let me see you come, honey, be a good girl for daddy…”

“Jesus FUCKING christ” is all you manage to grit out before you’re tipping over the edge into orgasm, all your muscles bearing down into the bright point of pleasure, high sob winding its way from your throat. 

Eddie keeps kneading at your spasming clit as you ride it out on his thigh, even as he lets out a series of short, keening whimpers, even as his cock jerks against your leg into his own release. 

You sag into his waiting arms, tittering lightly against his neck as you both work on catching your collective breaths. 

“Holy shit, and I was really starting to think you actually didn’t want to fuck me.” You laugh in relief.

His hand pauses mid-stroke up the slope of your back, sounding genuinely aghast when he asks “Why the fuck would you think that?”

You straighten in his arms with an incredulous stare. “Uh, maybe because you acted like a monk that I was corrupting every time I even breathed near you?”

Eddie covers his eyes with his hands, heels to sockets, groaning- “Fuck, honey, I was tryn’a be respectful. You’re telling me we could’ve been doing this sooner?”

You reach to soothe your palms over the length of his forearms, equally fond and serious when you say “I’m telling you I absolutely would have slept with you on the first date.”

He makes a strangled, pained noise before you continue- “You described to me in detail the entire mating cycle of a bat, and then walked directly into a trash can by accident. How did you expect me to wait on jumping your bones?”

He lets you take his hands, enveloping them in your own and bringing them to your chest, pressing your lips affectionately to each ring.

He whispers, “Can I ask you something?” 

When you look up at him again, he says, with sincerity, “Can I see your tits next time?”

You hide your laughter into the crook of his neck. 

________

guys i cannot stress how high I am is this even any good plz perceive me 

More than meets the eye

Pairing: Chan x afab!reader

Inspired by Prison for life by Olivia Rodrigo

Summary: Chan is a pushover when it comes to doing things for you, but not so much when someone messes with his girl.

Warning: +18 MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

A/N: let's thank Chili(@baby-yongbok) for this brainrot, she's the one who planted this idea in my head.

Chan who's the sweetest person you have ever met, the one who blushed and stuttered when asking you out.

Chan who's always a gentleman, opening all the doors for you, pulling the chair so you can sit, throwing his coat over your shoulders so you won't get cold.

Chan who lingers a bit longer when he says goodbye to you after taking you back home, trying to gather the courage to kiss you.

Chan who's surprised by the way you grab him by the collar and crash your lips on his.

Chan who gets flustered when you ask him to come inside with you, so you can talk more.

Chan who can't help but feel his face on fire when you start undressing in front of him, not sure where he should put his hands.

Chan who eats you out slowly, enjoying every sound that comes out of your mouth, sure that he could make the prettiest song in the world with just your moans.

Chan who asks you to be his girlfriend the next morning, taking you by surprise when you wake up to a full table of breakfast.

Chris who loves to do everything for you, you want to stay home cuddling? Done, he'll make popcorn and prepare a list of rom-coms for you two to watch together. You want to go out with him and his friends? Sure, he'll make sure the guys are on their best behavior. You want to go shopping? Bet, he'll clean his schedule so he can spend the day buying you gifts, even though you always argue that you can buy things with your own money.

Chris who finds you amazing, you're strong, smart and capable, everything you have was earned with your hard work and he would never want to cross that line or take that away from you.

Chris who has to stand his friends making fun of him 'cause he's such a pushover when it comes to you. He would let you step on him if you asked him to and he would do it smiling.

Chris who loves to buy you flowers every time you have a date with him, so he always goes out of his way to buy you a bouquet.

Christopher who arrives late to your date because the flower shop messed up his order and witnesses a man grabbing you by the wrist while you argue with the stranger.

Christopher who sees red when he realizes what's happening, dropping the flowers and walking fast to where you are.

Christopher who puts his hand on the shoulder of the man, smiling softly and asking to talk to the man outside.

Christopher who's suddenly not a pushover anymore, not when it comes to someone messing with his girl.

Christopher who comes back inside after twenty minutes, dirty dress shirt and knuckles bloody.

Christopher who drags you out of the bar, hugging you tightly when the cold air outside hits your skin.

Christopher who fucks you in the backseat of his car, biting and marking you and calling you names, far different from the gentleman you are used to but you're not complaining.

Christopher who chants how much he loves you while you cum around his cock, overstimulated by the new side of your boyfriend that you're just getting to know.

Chris who helps you fix yourself so you can get out of the car to sit on the front seat, deciding that you should just grab some food on the drive thru and go home.

You're a feminist obviously, you don't need a man. But after that night you don't mind Chan saving you, you very much like his protection.

warnings: eddie is a huge tease, dirty talk, dry humping, name calling

Eddie's fingertips are digging into your skin, guiding your hips back and forth on his lap. You can’t stop moaning in his ear, the belt buckle he’s wearing hitting your clit at just the right angle.

He grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back to get a good look at you. “You’re such a desperate slut, you know that.” His eyes scan your face, taking in your lust-blown pupils and swollen lips.

You shake your head as much as you can, rolling your eyes. “I- just please fuck me.” He was right, you are a desperate slut. Your panties are soaked, and you want nothing more than for him to bend you over this couch. “You’ve been teasing me for too long.”

Darkly, Eddie chuckles as he bucks his hips up toward yours. “Let’s see you be a good girl and cum without me touching you,” he leans closer to your ear, biting your earlobe. “And maybe I’ll think about fucking you senseless.”