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whydoeseveryonewanttobangchan · 10 months

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💧 Tell me what you want, sweetheart. How many fingers, how fast… 💧

✎ Pairing: Chan x fem!reader, Jeongin x fem!reader

✎ Genre: Smut

✎ Summary: Jeongin’s good instincts earn him a masterful lesson in fingering.

✎ CW: Established relationship, partner sharing, exhibitionism, vaginal fingering, praise

✎ Word count: 3,936

❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥

“……… y/n……. hello?”

The sound of your name snaps you back into reality, back to the dining room table in the dorm. Eyes shift toward the source of the noise to find Jeongin looking at you quizzically.

“Hellloooo… you there?” he asks, comically waving his big hand in the air.

“Yeah… sorry. Just zoned out,” you reply, but that’s a lie.

You had been aimlessly swirling your chopsticks around your bowl of ramen, trying to ignore the feeling of your boyfriend’s fingers traveling farther and farther up your thigh.

Chan had been craving you all day, he said, and he had every intention of having his way with you after dinner. But, apparently, that wasn’t soon enough.

Not long after he prepared two bowls of instant noodles and sat down to eat with you, his hand found your knee under the table. And he didn’t stop.

Not when you playfully brushed it away, not when Jeongin, Han and Changbin joined with their own quick dinners, and not even when you shot him that cautionary look when his thumb began making small circles over your kneecap and you forced your legs closed with all the strength you could muster. He was determined to keep you on edge, and he was doing a damn good job.

But, of course, he was unaffected. Just eating and chatting and laughing with the boys like it’s a normal evening. Like he wasn’t about to slide his long fingers under your shorts just out of view of the others.

And that was working fine for a bit, until everyone had nearly finished their food while yours was barely touched. Until one sharp inhale made it clear to at least one person that not everything was as it seemed.

“I said…. How was your day?” Jeongin repeats.

All eyes are on you now, and they seem to have varying degrees of understanding. Jeongin looks concerned, Changbin confused, and Han relatively clueless. And then there’s Chan and his big, brown eyes, gazing at you with a mix of encouragement and adoration.

“Oh, it was fine,” you answer in the calmest voice you can muster. “Work’s been busy, had a couple of long day-”

Your thought is cut short when Chan rotates his wrist and forces his fingers between your tightly closed thighs. His pinky extends to press against your underwear, and you can’t help but squirm in your seat.

“Uh, ahem. Sorry,” you restart, trying to recover with a fake cough and throat clear. “Just some long days at work. That’s all. Thank you for asking, Innie.”

The sweet smile you send his way seems to do nothing to lessen his concern. If anything, it just makes him more suspicious. Changbin and Han seem satisfied, though, and change the topic back to Hyunjin’s mistake during dance practice.

Chan’s hand travels higher and higher until he’s practically cupping you in his fingers. He rolls them from top to bottom, putting pressure on as much of you as he can from this angle. Then he adjusts again, sliding his pinky under the damp fabric, and you can’t take it another fucking second.

“Hey, I’m not feeling well,” you announce to the table. “I think I’m gonna go lie down.”

Chan’s hand returns to his lap and you stand up and turn on your heels before anyone can ask what’s wrong. You just make a beeline for your boyfriend’s bedroom, sent off by a chorus of “feel better!” and “sleep well!”

You plop down on the plush comforter and stare at the ceiling, trying to imagine what you’re in for tonight and telepathically tell him to hurry the fuck up. And it works, because his frame fills the doorway less than a minute later.

“Not feeling well, my angel?” he teases. “Is there anything I can do to make you better?”

“Shut up,” you shoot back playfully.

A sly smile spreads across his lips as Chan closes the door behind him and dims the lights before heading to the foot of the bed.

“You did so well out there, baby, staying quiet for me,” he praises. “Would you like your reward?”

He places his knees on either side of your legs and crawls onto the bed until he’s hovering above you. All you can do is sit and stare in awe of his big shoulders, his tense expression, his fiery eyes staring down at you.

The corners of his full lips pull into a smirk, and he lowers himself to your neck, gently kissing and sucking and biting the skin there.

“Mmmmm,” you moan, moving a hand to the back of his head to run the dark strands through your fingers.

“Do that again,” he mumbles against your skin. “Moan for me.”

One of his hands finds yours, interlacing your fingers and pressing into the bed, while the other slips under your shirt and grips you over your bra.

“Ohhh, hmmm,” you groan, melting into the bed at his touch.

He sighs and plants a final kiss on your neck before turning his attention to your lips. He closes your bottom lip between his plump, pink ones and holds it there for a few seconds, but it feels more like an eternity. You could stay like this forever, just surrounded by him. But a knock at the door cuts eternity short.

“Hey, y/n, Chan… everything ok?” Jeongin’s voice sounds from the hallway.

“Yeah, thank you for checking, Innie!” you yell back and wait to see if that’ll be enough to end his curiosity.

“No, something isn’t right… I can feel it. Can I come in?” he asks.

Chan sighs and looks back to you. An annoyed expression and a slight nod send him to the door knowing that this interruption is his fault and his alone.

“Hey, she’s ok I promise,” Chan says, standing in the doorway to block Jeongin’s entry but not hide the view of you on the bed. “Her stomach is just upset, that’s all.”

You push up on your elbows and smile at him, and he smiles back. But it doesn’t reach his dark eyes. He glances back and forth between you and Chan a few times before he speaks again.

“You two are up to something. What did you do, Chan?” he asks, squaring up to his hyung the best he can. The tense look on his face and broadening of his shoulders is enough to send you both into a laughing fit, and then there’s no choice left but to tell him the truth.

“Are you serious? That’s what that was?!” he exclaims. “I thought something was wrong. Jesus.”

He pauses for a second and can’t help but glance at the both of you, at Chan’s hand, at your thighs.

“You… you really did that with your fingers?” Jeongin whispers to Chan.

Your beautiful boyfriend throws his head back and laughs, squeezing his eyes shut tight. Truth be told, he could do that to you by simply existing, but his fingers… there’s something magical about them.

“Wow…” Innie mumbles. “You’ll have to teach me that sometime.”

“How about now?” Chan asks, glancing back at you for approval.

You smirk and nod in response. He knows you love a captivated — consenting — audience.

A rosy color spreads across the maknae’s cheeks, and he instinctively pulls his sweatshirt’s collar up to his nose in an attempt to hide.

“No, I couldn’t. That’s… this… no…” he declares, but he can’t keep his eyes away from your lower body for more than a few seconds, and an occasional twitch in his sweatpants makes it clear he’s not entirely opposed to the idea.

“Come here, I’ll show you,” Chan says, grabbing Innie by the arm and pulling him over to the bed. “You don’t have to touch if you want. Just watch what I do.”

Chan plops down comfortably on the edge between your legs, and Jeongin awkwardly sits on the corner of the mattress.

“It’s mostly about pressure, yeah? Depending on where you are, do you want to massage…” Chan explains, wrapping his fingers around and gently rubbing your ankle. “…or do you want to tease…”

He loosens his grip and drags his fingertips up your shin, to your knee, and back down, leaving a trail of goosebumps as he goes. You thrust upward just a little, yearning for that same touch between your legs.

Chan smiles as you squirm, enjoying his teacher role already. Jeongin’s watching his hyung’s fingertips with intensity, and next thing you know, he’s testing his skills on your other leg.

“Like this?” Innie asks, placing both hands on your sock-clad foot and using his thumbs to massage the base through the cotton. Fingertips drag to your ankle and hook around the sock’s cuff, rolling it down and over your toes and off.

He applies pressure to different spots on the base of your foot, watching your face to see how it feels. Once he passes your heel, he puts his palms to work, too, dragging his big hands up and down the sides of your calf.

“Yeah, nice,” Chan says, smiling approvingly before turning his attention back to you. “You like that, baby?”

“Hmmm….”

It would be hard to not enjoy four hands caressing your legs, but something about Jeongin’s fingers elevates the feeling. Like his big hands could do so much damage, but instead, they’re caressing you gently. And all you can think about is how he could wreck you in so many ways…

You snap back to reality as your boyfriend lifts the hem of your T-shirt to slide his hand up and rub your stomach. Even with everything else going on, his eyes are glued to yours, and that sweet smile is still aimed at you.

“Good so far, sweetheart?” he asks.

“Mhm,” you reply softly between sharp breaths. “You ok?”

“Of course, as long as you’re happy,” Chan replies, then turns to Innie. “Ready for the next step?”

Jeongin doesn’t answer immediately. Honestly, he probably didn’t even hear Chan. He’s staring at your legs so intensely, almost in wonder.

“Oi, Jeongin,” Chan repeats, snapping the fingers of his free hand.

“Oh, yeah, sorry, yeah,” the younger boy answers, shaking his head softly. “What do I do?”

“Go higher,” Chan says matter-of-factly, like this really is just a lesson and you’re the study participant — and Jeongin is his most eager student.

The maknae immediately wraps a hand around your inner thigh, down toward your knee. At Chan’s instruction — an encouraging nod is all he needs — Innie slides his warm hand up and up. Slowly, gently.

The unfamiliar touch has you instinctively pulling your legs closed, but Chan’s comforting touch on your stomach keeps you relaxed. His palm is pressed flat, and his fingers make small circles on your soft skin. His other hand replicates Jeongin’s path and gently squeezes the flesh of your inner thigh.

“Hmm.”

A deep hum vibrates from Innie’s throat, and his hungry eyes are trained on the wet spot on your shorts.

You’ve always wondered if other people can smell your arousal. Chan jokes that he can — “It’s the wolf in me, what can I say?” — but he’s generally full of shit. Regardless of whether or not he can smell it, Jeongin can certainly see it. And the way he’s licking his lips has you convinced he wants to taste it, too.

“Go ahead, Innie,” you say reassuringly. “Touch me, it’s ok.”

And then he does. His fingers slide under your shorts and roughly press into your panties. His sudden movements startle all three of you, and Jeongin’s face burns bright red in embarrassment and he pulls his fingers back into his lap.

“A little too quick,” Chan explains. “Something like that is fine if you’re going hot and heavy, yeah? But for something like this…”

Your boyfriend’s hand presses into your thigh and inches up until his fingertips reach the fabric of your shorts. He runs the damp material between his fingers and lightly bites his lip before speaking again.

“… you want to go slowly. Gentle and loving. Maybe a little teasing,” he says with a wink. “That’s what she likes, anyway. Don’t you baby?”

“I just tolerate it because he enjoys being an ass,” you say to Jeongin, who’s still sitting there with his fingers pressed into his thighs.

“Naur, you love it,” Chan teases back. “You love when I play with you.”

He slides your shorts to the side, just like he did earlier tonight. His thumb slowly runs up and down your folds through your underwear while his other hand resumes its circles on your stomach.

“You love when I do this for you,” he continues. “And I love doing it…”

His thumb presses into you deeper through the soaked cotton. Once the fabric can’t stretch anymore, he pulls back out and feels for your clit. He finds the spot and applies just enough pressure to make you squirm.

“That’s my girl,” Chan hums.

His gaze hasn’t left your face. It’s like he forgot someone else is there at all. Like it’s only you two on the bed, business as usual.

Your boyfriend hooks his thumb under your panties and moves them to the side to touch you. He runs his thumb down the length of your opening, parting your lips to feel inside of you where he can.

“Tell me what you want, sweetheart,” Chan whispers. “How many fingers, how fast.”

The hand on your stomach moves to your cheek and caresses it softly. He shifts his weight on the bed so his face can follow, too. Chan sweetly kisses your forehead, then the tip of your nose, then your lips.

“You have me in the palm of your hand, baby. I’ll do whatever you say.”

He breathes into your mouth, his lips only inches from yours when he speaks. You’d love to answer him, but your brain’s all fuzzy and your tongue wants to taste his teeth.

Hands go to his neck to keep him close while your lips press into his. He somehow knows exactly what you want — he always does — and parts his lips for you. Your tongue runs along the backside of his teeth, then the front, before you close his top lip between your teeth. His tongue joins yours then, and you spend what feels like forever just savoring each other and pouring every ounce of affection into each kiss.

Eventually, he pulls away with a smile spread across his swollen lips. He beams down at you, then turns to Jeongin.

“So, like I said…” he starts. “For something like this, you want to be soft, romantic. Listen to your partner’s body, and do what they like.”

Chan resumes his vertical strokes between your legs and faces you again.

“Most of it is about the buildup, right honey? I haven’t even stuck a finger in you yet.”

“He’s right,” you answer. “He always says such pretty words, sometimes I finish before we even get started.”

Chan smiles wide at your compliment.

“So, we’ve covered foreplay. Now, let’s get to fingering,” Chan says, slipping right back into his insightful teacher role. He lightly tugs on your shorts and continues: “Baby, do you mind?”

“Nope, go ahead.”

“Ok, lift up for me.”

He gently slides your shorts and underwear down your legs and tosses them to the floor. One hand gently rests on your upper thigh while the other settles on your lower abdomen.

“Before you do anything else here, you want to make sure she’s wet enough,” Chan explains. “If you did the first part right, you should be fine, but it’s important to check before doing anything too quickly or roughly.”

Your boyfriend positions a finger at your entrance and looks at you.

“Ready?”

“Mhm,” you reply softly.

One long, bony finger gently slides inside of you and traces circles around your walls.

“This isn’t a great example because she gets really wet — you saw her shorts,” Chan says with a soft chuckle. “But this is a good way to check and see what she’s ready for. Here, you try.”

Chan removes his finger and gestures for Jeongin to use his instead.

“You sure?” he asks nervously. “I don’t wanna…”

“You won’t fuck it up. You didn’t fuck it up last time either,” you speak softly. “How else are you gonna learn, Innie?”

“Ok…”

He speaks hesitantly, but his finger is inside you within seconds. His are even longer than Chan’s and how deep he can reach with minimum effort comes as a surprise, but a good one this time.

You inhale deeply and close your eyes as Jeongin starts to move that finger in and out slowly.

“Good, now go in a circle. That’ll help you gauge how much more you can stretch her right now,” Chan instructs.

Innie does as he’s told and a smirk spreads across his lips.

“I think she’s ready for another,” he says.

“Go ahead then,” Chan urges.

Another long finger slides inside you, and he keeps them pressed together as he moves in and out. A minute or two passes with the same motion, and Chan must see the blank expression on your face, so he offers to help.

“So, now it’s about the technique,” he says, placing a hand on Jeongin’s wrist. “You want to rotate your hand and use your fingers to reach the good spots.”

“The good spots?” Jeongin asks.

“That varies by person, unfortunately,” Chan answers. “Just have to mess around and practice on your partner ‘til you figure out their weaknesses. For example…”

Chan tightens his grip on Innie’s wrist and pulls his hand back a little.

“Bend your fingers,” he instructs.

The younger boy’s fingers are so long, he can’t help but stretch your walls apart when he bends them inside you.

“Ok, now keep them like that…”

Chan slowly directs Jeongin’s fingers forward and back, keeping an eye on your face to determine when he — or Innie, more like — is close. And when you take a soft, sharp breath in, he knows he’s got you.

“And now we add a little rotation…”

He pushes and pulls and twists Innie’s wrist like he’s playing the world’s most gentle round of Bop It.

“Oh…”

That one breathy word brings a huge smile to your boyfriend’s face.

“There, you got it,” he says to Innie, continuing to work his friend’s wrist to make you moan and sigh.

“And when you get more acquainted with their… uh… anatomy, you can target it more,” Chan continues. “May I…?”

He releases his hold on Innie’s wrist and patiently waits his turn. Jeongin slides his fingers out and sits them in his lap delicately, like he’s not sure what to do with them now that they’re covered in you. But you’re not too worried about that, because Chan’s fingers are back inside you now, and he’s rubbing and applying perfect pressure to that spot…

“Oh fuck…” you moan a little louder this time, and he just continues with a determined look on his face.

“I can get her to finish like this, or I could toss in some other techniques…” Chan muses, then pushes down gently on the stubbled skin above your pubic bone. “This increases pressure inside, making her feel more… full, I guess? Is that right, baby?”

“Ahuh, sure,” you answer quickly between sharp breaths.

Your eyes are mostly closed, but you can still see Chan’s confident smirk and watch Innie slowly slide his wet fingers into his mouth when he thinks you’re not looking. Something to tease him for later.

“And, of course,” Chan says, “don’t forget about her clit.”

He adds a third finger and rotates his hand so his palm is at an angle. He places his thumb on your most sensitive area and adjusts so he can press on the little nub directly.

“If you want to keep pressure here, you can’t pull out as far,” he explains. “That’s when you really focus on massaging her g-spot so you can keep your hand steady on her clit.”

He demonstrates with the same level of determination he showed earlier, even biting his lip this time. Jeongin is absolutely entranced next to him.

“And if you’re ready for the grand finale, and you’re comfortable with it, a little dirty talk never hurt anyone…” Chan trails off as he lowers his head down to yours once again, lips pressing softly against the edge of your ear.

“Gonna come for me, baby?” he whispers so only you can hear and increases the pace of his little circles and thrusts.

Your simple “y-yes” is barely audible and sandwiched between moans.

“I love your little sounds. You make the most beautiful noises for me, baby,” he hums as he gently bites your earlobe. “I can’t wait to make you scream later.”

“Chan… I…” you barely manage to utter and open your eyes to signal to your boyfriend that you’re almost there.

And just past him, looking entirely enthralled, sits Jeongin. His hand is gently rubbing your calf again, but you see it before you feel it. It’s like every nerve in your body relocated to between your thighs, and they’re all ticking time bombs.

“I know you’re close, sweetheart. You’re doing so good. Such a good girl for me, baby,” Chan praises as he continues his work and uses his free hand to stroke your hair. “Come for me.”

And you do. Gently, but loudly. Your body manages to remain still for the most part, but your chest rises and falls erratically while your moans and sighs fight for release against your lungs that desperately need oxygen.

You grip a handful of Chan’s hair and pull, and he just giggles and lets you guide his head to your chest. He listens to your heart pound with a sweet smile on his face as you ride this out.

The high doesn’t last too long, and aside from a tiny ringing in your ears, you’re back to normal in under 30 seconds. You open your eyes again to see the two of them staring down at you before Chan turns his attention to Jeongin.

“So, there you have it. Any questions?”

The younger boy looks like he’s doing math in his pretty head as he speaks: “… no, not right now.”

You can’t help but laugh at his bewilderment. It’s like he just saw a magic trick.

“Well, if you don’t mind then,” Chan says, facing you again. “I’m about to start my masterclass, so…”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Jeongin answers, snapping out of the trance and standing up from the edge of the bed. “Thank you, thank you both.”

He turns and heads for the door as your boyfriend leans down to kiss your lips and pull the comforter up over you. The two of them meet where the bedroom becomes the hallway and Chan opens the door.

“Let me know if you have any questions after you… practice,” he says with an exaggerated wink.

“Oh, I will,” Innie replies and steps into the hallway. As he heads back to the common space, Chan swears he hears him mumble, “Seungmin’s gonna lose his mind…”

Your boyfriend slowly closes and locks the bedroom door and pads back toward the bed.

“I think our little lesson is about to become big news,” Chan says as he slides into bed next to you.

“Honestly, that’s fine,” you answer sweetly. “I’m sure whoever they sleep with will thank us later.”

Chan shifts to lie on his side and wraps an arm around your waist. He smiles widely at you, displaying those gorgeous dimples.

“Guess we should practice our material for the next class then, yeah?” he whispers as he slides his hand down once again.

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jamjaemin · 4 months

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꒰ "Be brave, Angel" ꒱ 彡 ♡ ⋆｡˚ (m.l and h.l)

summary:you want your first tattoo. but are you ready to deal with who will do this to you?

Word count: 6k!

Pairing: tattooartist!mark × tattooartist!haechan × f!reader

Content: fuckboy!mark/haechan, slutty!reader, Praising, petnames(good girl, princess, ect), friends with benefits,teasing ,threesome, double penetration (pussy and ass), ass and pussy spanking, unprotected sex,creampie ,no mention of aftercare :( , lmk if i miss any.

A/n:This is based on the poll I posted before I know y’all voted the most for mark but some besties wants them both like I don't blame them bc I'm down bad for this two. I'm literally busy but yeah here it is I hope you like it, thanks for your time bestie, enjoy♡.

the soft tinkling of bells rang out as you opened the studio door, but your nerves were so sensitive that you flinched as if the sound had been amplified by large speakers. The frigid air inside the studio ruffled the hairs on your arms and you pulled your cardigan tighter around you, immediately recognizing the soft music playing in the background.

If this was a visit like one of the other times you’ve been here with your friends, for company and support in getting their tattoos and piercings, then you would have been able to once again admire the modern decor and beautiful artwork hangs on the walls - all strategically placed to catch the attention and arouse the interest of clients.

But this was no ordinary visit. For once you weren’t here for your friends. You were here for yourself.

No one but you and Johnny knew of your intention to get your first tattoo and you didn’t want to change that, wanting to surprise your friends since they had been encouraging you to get it for years.

That was weeks ago, and frankly, you’d almost forgotten that you’d expressed that wish to Johnny. At least until you got a message from him, asking you to come down to the studio as soon as possible to see the finished artwork that he would use as a base to finally get your tattoo done. You weren’t nervous until that moment.

But when the possibility of getting a tattoo stopped being a ‘possibility’ and became a matter of 'when’, you started to regret your own decision.

It’s been three days since you received the message and only today did you pluck up the courage to come to the studio.

But judging by the way your hands were cold and clammy you didn’t think you had mustered enough courage.

Swallowing down the nerves you took a deep breath and looked towards the reception desk, but there was no one there.

Oh.

You are completely alone.

That means there’s still time to turn around and walk out the same door you just came through, right? Yes right. It would be the perfect excuse.

“Well, at least I tried.” You said softly, already turning towards the exit.

“Y/N?” The melodious sound of Haechan’s voice interrupted your hurried steps, and you squeaked through your teeth, knowing it would be very difficult to escape now.

“Y/N! Wait, what are you doing here? Are you expecting one of your friends?” He asked already walking towards you, not noticing - or choosing to ignore - the tense expression on your face, choosing to hold his arms out to you in an invitation to hug.

“Hi, Hyuck. Uh, not really, not exactly…” You replied, accepting his warm hug. When he let go and looked at you questioningly, you sighed.

“I’m here because Johnny said he finished the artwork I asked him to create. I’ve been talking to him about getting a tattoo.” The last part you said in a whisper.

“Really?” He smiled brightly in response and added,“if that’s what you really want, you can bet it’ll all be worth it when the job is done.”You brightened up a bit, nodding slowly and offering him a gentle smile, silently grateful for his support.

The nervous knot in your stomach felt a little less dull thanks to hyuck's sweet words.“But I’m afraid unfortunately we can’t do that today, dear.” He said in an apologetic tone, looking disappointed in himself.

You furrowed your brows and cocked your head in confusion, waiting for his next words.

“Johnny isn’t even here. Today he went to a family meeting, as we’re near to closing time for the studio, he’s already left.”

Closing time?You looked up at the clock on the wall, blushing and stuttering an embarrassed response when you saw that he was right, the hand almost reaching the closing time mark for the studio.

You squealed with your hands over your mouth.“Oh my God! I’m sorry. I didn’t even pay attention to the time. I should have checked the time before coming.”

Damn, it was just like you to be embarrassed like that.

“Hey, no need to apologize, if i know where's the artwork I would have done it myself. I’m sure Johnny wouldn’t mind staying after hours to see you, but he really can’t miss this meeting.”

“D-don’t worry about it, really. I’ll come back another day, it’s no problem to-”

“I’ll attend her.”

You both looked at the source of that voice, both of you surprised by the sudden appearance of someone else in the room.

There, casually leaning against the doorframe, taboo clutched between the long fingers of one hand, the other comfortably tucked into his pants pocket, was mark lee.

His body was covered in black clothes as usual. Combat boots and jeans, a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing the numerous tattoos on his arms.

“Oh, mark, this is Y/N, she’s the client of-”

“I know who she is. I said I’ll attend her, the art is in my office along with the others.”

The abrupt cut left your cheeks red and you looked away at the man beside you, leaving them to stare at each other in the tense silence afterwards.

You were about to say that you didn’t need him to attend to you, but Haechan spoke first.

“That would be amazing”

You heard Mark breathe a little bit heavily, the sound piquing your curiosity until you looked up at him, seeing that his gaze had now fallen on you – disturbingly bored and somehow still so intense.

He keeps looking at you like he’s sizing you up with that sleepy look; like he’s trying to understand you just by the way you’re standing there next to his friend and your friend bc you talked with hyuck comfortably so many times but mark...you didn’t have the chance.

The man before you doesn’t seem the least bit concerned that you’ll find his obvious inspection impolite.

No, instead he just stares you down from head to toe completely, undisguised and not saying a word as he does it twice. By God, twice!You always felt like there was a suffocating tension surrounding the two of you, even though you haven’t exchanged a single word with each other in the months you’ve been in the studio with your girls.

You always told yourself that it was all in your head, but when he looked at you like that it was almost impossible to control your own thoughts.

With a shudder you break your gaze and fix your attention on Haechan again.

“No, don’t worry about it. I can come back another day, I really don’t want to disturb anything.” You said pulling away, but Haechan’s grip on your hand didn’t allow you to go very far.

“Wait. Mark is an amazing professional and I don’t think there could be anyone better than him to get your first tattoo, not even Johnny.”You fought back the urge to say that you had serious doubts about that, especially given the look of sheer boredom on the man’s face and all that awkwardness surrounding the two of you.

He didn’t seem like someone capable of offering emotional support and allaying your fears.

“Fine. Lock the door when you leave.” He set the tone for the end of the conversation before you could argue, but you heard hyuck whispering to mark before he turn and head back inside "leave? take care of her until i comeback" giving him a playful wink.

“you, follow me.” You watched his broad back disappear from view, then turned your eyes to Haechan, smirking at you like he knows you were scared to get your first tattoo. His joy was so intense that you didn’t have the heart to say the things you were thinking, instead offering a forced smile and a gentle hug before walking away to follow his friend.

“see you” You waved at him stepping into the hallway that led to the tattoo and piercing procedures.

"I'll join you soon baby" haechan whispered to himself.

You didn’t know how to react around him and you were afraid it was obvious from the almost robotic way you followed him.

Even on your other visits to the studio, you hadn’t spent more than a few minutes in the man’s presence. Always mysterious and elusive, you noticed over the course of visits that he preferred to work in the back, creating fine art for inspiration and serving specific clients by appointment directly with him. And the few times you saw him it was always the same awkwardness as usual, the same disturbingly intense stares and a total of zero verbal interaction.

He just slowly cooked you up in an excess of visual intensity and then was gone.And now he said he would get your tattoo.God, you didn’t think you could be more nervous than you are right now.

Mark doesn’t say anything to you as he places the book on top of a small table in the corner, heading over to the alcohol spray bottle and disposable wipes, using both to sanitize the black leather high recliner chair you’ll be sitting in for the next few hours. You just watch him, nudging the toe of your sneakers into the other as a distraction as you wrap the cardigan more tightly around your body.

When he’s finished sanitizing the chair you understand it’s your cue and, sucking in a deep breath, you push your legs to move to the padded chair, your body feeling like heavy lead as you just imagine the pain that will come from shoving a needle in your skin. You settle into the chair, hands clasped on your thighs and body taut as a bow, staring at mark’s work like a frightened hawk. If he had noticed how nervous you were - and you really think it would be hard for anyone not to - he said nothing about it, opting to continue his preparation silently.

His moves are practiced, probably memorized after so much time working at it, and he barely looks at you, completely focused on his little world. The only time he stopped what he was doing and gave you any attention was to hand you a clipboard.

“Before we get started I need you to read and sign this if you agree to the terms.”You nod and he immediately goes back to what he was doing, leaving you alone to read through paragraph after paragraph of the studio’s consent and disclaimer if the job doesn’t turn out exactly the way you wanted it to.

You found it really hard not to approve the final work, given what you already knew about the team and their perfect artwork. But you found such terms understandable and necessary, as working with the public could be challenging at times.

You’ve read the document almost through when a sound of packages opening catches your attention and you look away to the man in front of you. None of your friends had done any procedures with mark, despite their many efforts and attempts to make an appointment, but here you were, waiting for him to finish preparing the materials to get your tattoo done. You couldn’t believe it.

He was attractive in a way that would make a woman swoon. His eyebrows were full and his ears were decorated with a variety of piercings and when he turns to grab something from the top shelf you find yourself fighting an appreciative sigh as you get a clear view of his profile, everything about him was appealing.the sight causes the already visible blush on your face to deepen to an even more embarrassing degree.

The sound of a new song starting up snaps you out of your reverie and you stare awkwardly at the clipboard in your hands, deciding that you definitely assent to all the terms and quickly signing your name at the bottom - your handwriting not as graceful as usual, due to the way your hand is slightly shaking.You hand him the clipboard and he places it on the table next to other documents, turning his attention to the materials.

You see him sort out alcohol, wipes, packets of disposable needles, and a small container of ink, all neatly arranged in a straight line on a tray that he brings over to the leather chair you’re sitting in. He sets it down on the side table, along with the pistol and stencil he would use as a base for your art, pulling a stool on wheels next to your chair.

“The tattoo will be in the rib area, right? Under the breast.” He asked quietly, sitting down on the stool. You looked at him curiously through your lashes, surprised that he already knew the location of your tattoo.

“Y-yes, how do you know?”

“johnny told me.” That’s all he told you about it and, surprisingly, that’s all you needed to understand. “Alright. I need you to take your shirt off.”

He says without looking you in the eye, unflappable and confident, putting the pair of black gloves on his hands with a final snap that only served to make you even more agitated.

While you logically knew that you would need to go topless for this particular tattoo, there was an extra nervousness about doing it in front of him. And you knew it was because it was him, because that self-conscious nervousness wasn’t there at the time when you thought johnny would be doing the procedure.

But there was no choice, and besides, he wasn’t being anything but professional with you. Surely he’s seen a lot more exposed skin than that during procedures.

With a sigh of courage and decidedly rosy cheeks, you pulled the cardigan from your body, quickly doing the same with the light shirt you wore underneath, tucking both into your backpack.

You bite your lip and rub your hands on your thighs, focusing on feeling the material of your skirt against your skin in an attempt to calm yourself down. But your efforts go down the drain when he looks up at you, that disinterested, half-lidded look opening for the briefest of seconds as he looks down at your black push-up bra hugging your breasts. You nearly choke on your saliva because, by God, for two seconds you’re sure a purely appreciative look danced across that bored expression of his.

But then, as quickly as it appeared, it was gone.

“Lie down please so I can sanitize the area.” He grumbled letting the disposable mask rest on his chin, and amidst your mental daze you wonder if he only has black items to use.

You comply, lying back on the soft leather, looking up at the ceiling. You almost jump at the feel of the icy liquid on your skin, instantly shivering at the sensation. The smell of antiseptic hits your nose and you try to breathe more slowly, feeling the circular movements of cotton on your sensitive skin.

“I’ll paste the stencil now.”

As you watched, his fingers smoothed over the stencil, the dark outline showing against your skin. He slowly removes the paper and your gaze strays momentarily to his mouth, his lush lips catching your attention as he nibbles on his lower lip in concentration. You blush and look away quickly, afraid of being caught. It takes a moment for you to realize he’s talking when you turn your attention and notice his lips moving.

“See if you like the position and design. Don’t hesitate to say if you don’t like something, the time for changes is now.” He says it more seriously than any of the times he’s addressed you tonight (which hasn’t been many), voice low and direct, wanting you to understand the importance of this moment.

You swallow and accept the round mirror he hands you, positioning it so you can see the art. Your lips part immediately.

“Oh.”

The delicate butterflies and hearts stretches across your rib cage, just below your breast, rising just a little up the side. The way the design undulates naturally, as if a particular breeze is constantly on your skin, gently shaking your tattoo. You find yourself smiling at the beauty and elegance of the art. It wasn’t a large or very ornate tattoo; you were absolutely sure that mark had already done tattoos infinite times more complex than this one. But it was beautiful. Beautiful in an undeniable way, an art made obviously by gentle and skilled hands.

“It’s…it’s beautiful. I love it.” You say quietly, still turning the mirror to observe the design from all angles, a soft smile on your lips.

Mark didn’t respond immediately and you looked away from the mirror to see the cause of the silence. You felt your smile lessen at the way he was looking at you, specifically at your lips. That realization brought butterflies to your stomach, your cheeks flushing again. He didn’t speak up when he realized you’d caught his gaze, eyes rising to look at your flushed cheeks, then locking into your slightly widened eyes.

“Hmm, can we get started then?” He questioned quietly, still looking at you in that disturbing way, pulling the mask to cover the lower half of the face.

“Y-yes, please.” You said, handing the mirror back to him with trembling fingers. Even with the mask on you heard the amused snort and couldn’t help but feel even more embarrassed. The laugh itself was low and silent, just above a rumbling, guttural breath. It made you feel silly and childish.

Great, now he thought you were an idiot.

“This is a pretty sensitive area, so it might be uncomfortable. I need you to take a deep breath for me. I’ll start with a simple line and you tell me how your pain tolerance is, okay?”

You stiffen but nod, doing as he asks. He grunts a little, satisfied with your compliance, but you barely hear it over the now-screeching sound of the pistol.

“Here we go.”

You bite your bottom lip hard with the initial sting. It hurts. It’s not uncomfortable as he mentioned earlier. It’s painful, really painful. Your small hands curl into fists on the chair and you struggle to breathe slowly, trying to focus on that instead of the stinging pain in your skin. He goes on with the simplest strokes for a few minutes and you’re rigid as a rock during the whole process.

“Hey, you’re okay?”

He pulls the needle away from your skin for a few seconds and you take the opportunity to sigh in relief, refusing to open your eyes because you know they’re teary and you definitely don’t want him to think you’re a crybaby.

“Y-yes, fine, you can continue.” You respond, praying your statement sounds confident enough for him to believe it and continue.

But he doesn’t continue.

“Open your eyes.”

You shake your head slightly, feeling the tears welling up in your eyes.

“Y/N, open your eyes for me.” He orders harder, the fingers that are still flat on your stomach pressing your skin a little to get your attention.

Having him say your name that way makes you gasp softly, obeying what he says after a deep breath.

As you knew, the act of opening your eyes causes the accumulated tears to fall, streaming down the sides of your face. You sniff and blush harder, feeling the weight of his gaze on you - so intensely dark, like the sky in a quite night.

“It’s okay to cry. This is a pretty sensitive area and, after all, it’s your first tattoo.” Despite the look of boredom, his words are spoken in a reassuring, deep tone that immediately works to quell the worst of your nervousness.

You nod and wipe the tears with your fingers. He waits for you to calm down as he draws slow circles on the skin of your stomach, and despite the fact that you’re pretty sure this gesture isn’t entirely professional, you still feel better about his patience. You’re honestly surprised by this, as his overall expression suggested nothing but utter disinterest. But you accepts the kindness with open arms.

Suddenly the door opened slowly and it's hyuck, his gaze never leaving your face as he start clicking his tongue teasingly before he said “my little girl crying?”

“Can we try again?” mark said looking back at you.

This time you nod more confidently, a small smile on your tearful face and it’s convincing enough that he accepts with a satisfied grunt.

Hyuck gets closer to you and brush his hand softly on your cheek calming you down, neither his words or gestures seems just friendly but you didn't have time to focus on that when all you can feel is pain.

The pistol buzz returns and you make an effort to be more relaxed this time, humming softly to the music playing through the speakers.

“Do you like this song?” he asks casually and you jump an inch as you feel the needle again in your skin, the pain returning as before. But you try to focus on his question.

“Yes, very much.” You say with some difficulty, but glad you have something you can use as a distraction while he continues tracing the painful lines on your skin. The needle scratching your skin in a more sensitive part now, if that was possible, and you squeal a whimper. Mark looks up at you and you smile weakly, waving to say that everything was fine.

Haechan bite his lower lip softly at your words feeling his cock twitching from how hard he is seeing you like that but after some time he decided to complete tatting you to forget about it and that's how they exchanged roles.

He hums thoughtfully and then is silent, long enough for you to think he’s not going to say anything else. But then he speaks.

“Ready, princess?”

You blush at the nickname, but try not to imagine too much. "Yes I'm ready" you breathed.

“That’s my girl,” he turns to your ribs as you try your best not to feel dizzy - whether it was from the object currently stabbing your skin or the words that had just come out of hyuck’s mouth, you didn’t know.

He swallows thoughtfully, the movement making his Adam’s apple rise and fall, immediately drawing your attention to his neck.

You shyly bite your lip as you stare at the tattoos visible across his skin; the striking features of a butterfly right in the center of his throat, the lush wings spread out to either side. A single rose in the space just behind his studded ear. The top of a dragon’s head peeking through the collar of his black shirt, indicating a larger tattoo spread across his back and biceps.

You swallowed hard.

“Hm, do you like my tattoos that much?.” He asked after a while of silence, pulling back a little to look at your tattoo from a different angle, pulling you out of your thoughts. Long fingers gripping your ribcage area firmly, but gently massaging every now and then, making your mission to ignore the signals more difficult by the second.

And so you two go on for a little over one hour, the excruciatingly long time it takes for your tattoo to be done. You cry sometimes and wince at others, but haechan is patient and so as mark who was sitting across from him watching his work more likely watching you.

Of course, you try to remember that they are professionals and that they probably do this for his other clients. But it’s hard not to feel special when they're so nice.

Sometimes you feel hyuck's fingers caressing your skin in a way that you suspect is beyond what a professional needs to do, and yet you struggle to mask your emotions. It becomes particularly difficult when he asks you to pull up your lower bra line a bit so he can finish off the tattoo. Of course, you don’t lift the fabric completely or anything, but the bottom half of your breast is visible and that’s more than enough to make you hyper-aware. And it only gets worse when you feel his gentle touch on the side of your breast, a series of goosebumps erupt over the area, the length of your face down to your collarbone turning red with the embarrassing reaction. It’s absolutely mortifying and you try to cover your embarrassment with a strained laugh, saying the air conditioning was making you cold.

It sounds too ridiculous to be taken seriously, but haechan push it, his dark gaze is dancing with amusement and interest. "Oh i know you liked it, princess"

“i-...You finished?” You ask when he turns off the pistol buzz, placing the object on the tray, throwing the disposable items in the adjacent bin along with the gloves and mask. He stands with his hands up, stretching his muscles tired from being in the same position for so long. You try not to visibly drool at the sight of the muscles in his arms stretched out like that.

“Yes. Do you want help getting up?” he looked back at you, his smirk growing bigger just like what's between his legs.

Yes, you did. In fact, you wanted him to do more than just help you up. But of course you didn’t say that.

“No, that’s fine. I can do it, thanks.”

Despite this, you have trouble getting up. And the fact that he’s watching your every move like an eagle doesn’t help matters. Your tattoo area hurts like a bitch and your body looks like it took a beating, but now you couldn’t take back what you said, it was a matter of pride. Then with delicacy and patience you drag yourself across the chair, avoiding putting weight on the most painful areas. It takes longer than you’d like, but eventually you’re on your feet.

Mark has one eyebrow arched and a half smile on his lips, but mercifully doesn’t comment on what just happened.

“Here, want to take a look?” the younger one asks, nodding towards the full-length mirror on the wall.

“Yes yes!” You responded excitedly, looking forward to seeing the job done.

“Wow, it’s so…so beautiful!” You admire the artistry on your skin, now more vivid and expressive than before. Lips clamped between teeth, nearly jumping with glee at the result. The detailing is elegant and beautiful. It’s even better than the sketch they have drawn.

Your skin throbbed and burned, but you couldn’t be more pleased. The reflection in the mirror is just perfect. “Johnny is an amazing artist I swear, he’s amazing.”

Haechan seems to think about what you say, but the way his brows are slightly furrowed tells you he’s still confused. Hearts fluttering in your eyes as you look away from the mirror at the silent man beside you. But mark on the other side is quiet, deathly quiet.

You’re so nervous that you’ve offended them that you feel your body almost shaking where you’re standing. But then he slowly approaches, standing behind you in the mirror, staring intently at the overview of his work now permanently imprinted on your skin with a thoughtful hum.

“It looks really good on you, princess.” He says from behind you, close enough that you can smell the faint scent of cigarettes and mint gum, and something woody like sandalwood. A scent so intoxicatingly masculine it almost makes your head spin. He's literally behind you pressing on your ass and you’re still only in a bra and thigh-length pleated skirt.

Sweet hell.

You open your lips to say something, anything, but nothing comes out. The two of you just stand there, staring at each other in the mirror, neither of you knowing how to act.

God, he feels it too, right? That tension around the two of you?

It is haechan who breaks the silence, apparently more in tune with his feelings than you are.

“Okay, let me clean this up.“

You’re feeling shaky from your recent interaction, but you nod quickly, watching as he cleans your skin. The cold water soothing the tattoo burn.

You don’t know what you’re supposed to do, now that mark is standing close to you too saying nothing, just staring at you in that disturbing way.

For a solid minute, maybe two, he still doesn’t say anything. The look he pinned you with made breathing very difficult but then he finally parts his lips to say something, and you allow yourself to exhale expectantly.

"It wasn’t Johnny who made the art.”

Mark’s deep tone rang like molten gold, clearly knowing he was too close for things to be considered platonic at this point – though it didn’t seem like he minded too much. No, whatever is going on between the three of you is coming to a head right now. You can feel it in your bones.

“E-excuse me?” You blink rapidly, feeling your senses go dangerously numb at his approach, he lied to you.

“I said…” He says more slowly, tilting his head letting the attraction that now seemed mutual run through your veins. “That it wasn’t Johnny who designed your tattoo art, princess.”

He keeps looking at you like you’re the only thing that matters in the world. Disturbingly intense. You try and can’t remember the last time someone looked at you with such obvious desire. The sexual tension rapidly rising.

His long fingers glide along your jaw, tracing the shape, caressing your cheekbones. You don’t entertain the illusion that he can’t hear the rapidity of your breathing, perhaps even the rapid pulse under your flushed skin.

You looked to your right and realize that haechan already cleaned everything and he's staring down at you smirking before he whispered in your ear "Every time you visit the studio I wonder what it would be like if we are more close. What it would be like to have friends with benefits...with a pretty little thing like you"

You swallow the choking lump in your throat, lips parted on a shuddering sigh. It’s palpable that something big is coming and you don’t know if you can handle the rest of what he has to say. Still, you want to hear him say it. You wants him to tell you the things that make your stomach flutter and your toes curl. You want it so bad.

“I want to ruin your pussy, fuck you until your throat hurts from screaming. I want to make you cum with my cock, my mouth and my fingers. I want to lick every damn inch of you.”

…

For a few seconds the world stops turning. Nothing but what he said occupies your mind. You were going to die. Right there, in their tattoo studio.

"I….” You try, although the options are so many that you don’t know exactly what to ask for, your tongue feeling heavy inside your dry mouth, “…please.”

“Please what, sweet girl?” Mark's head dips to your exposed neck, wet lips pressing against the skin there. His breath is hot and your eyelashes flutter at the contact, then his tongue slides out to drag slowly against your skin.

you sighed and can't reject this offer ofc, as if your words had been forcibly punched out of your body. Desperate. “Just touch me, please.” you breathed, halfway between crying and begging.

“…Where?” He pulls away to look you in the eyes. His pupil is swollen, almost completely black with lust. A smile plays on his lips.

“Everywhere. Everywhere, I just need to—” You can’t pronounce the rest. Instead, your breath is interrupted by a sudden pressure against your lips, and it takes you several moments to realize exactly what’s happening. Mark is kissing you.

Haechan take the chance and grabbed your waist his fingers tracing up to your back unclasping your bra like a pro. “Been dying to see these tits,” he said, giving the one on his side a squeeze the one you tatted just under it but You hadn’t bothered the pain when all you feel is pleasure.

Mark sucked and kissed all over your lips, while hyuck focused on your nipple. His tongue flicked the peak before taking it in his hot, wet mouth.

Right behind the three of you there was a big couch facing the mirror where you saw the final result of the tattoo.

The older one doesn’t wait for to long before taking a few steps back, until he lands comfortably in the couch that you only now realized was there. “Come here, princess.” He ordered.

But haechan grabbed you hard from your wrist and pushed you against mark making you sit on his lap, god he look so turned on, just an hour ago he was smiling brightly and welcoming you.

With a movement of muscles he is pulling the black shirt over his head - he's shirtless, tattooed chest and neck, his bun was slowly coming undone after all the moving. "hold her legs up" He growled while his friend spread your legs lifting them up in the air.

Haechan kneeled down face only few inches away from your panties, the way your pussy was pulsing now watching his tattooed fingers rubbing on your wet underwear, he damn near moaned. “She’s fucking soaked.” The way he spoke about you made your pussy ache even more.

He pushed them to the side and you tried to close your legs but mark grip was stronger, his fingers digging into your soft skin. “Don’t you dare try to hide this pretty pussy from me” hyuck said giving your cunt a good slap making you gasp.

Getting closer then slip between your legs. He kissed your throbbing clit before licking up your arousal, your head feel back on mark's chest with a moan while hyuck devouring you mumbling and degrading your pussy, his tongue flicking your clit faster and harder. Before you could draw another breath, you were tipping over the edge.

Looking at mark with those needy eyes and squirming all over his lap making him throb as well, "shh- I know baby, I know". Haechan licked at you until you finished, then looked up you grinning “So sweet, fuck.”

Mark start hooking his fingers into his pants and yanking them down along with his boxers, his big veiny cock was in a light needy shade of red. He tugs on your skirt as you risen slightly from his lap carefully avoiding your tattoo, For a few seconds you just look at him, asking - begging - for him to guide you in what to do next, and he doesn’t let you down.

One large hand holding both of your wrist behind your back and the other one grabbing his cock guiding his tip on your folds, “Come on princess, let me have you…” He practically pleads against your skin huskily, his larger body slightly trembling in need beneath yours.

You lick your lips and nod shyly looking back at hyuck who is fully naked now standing in front of you not only watching your pretty face but rubbing circles on your clit and choking you softly squeezing on your throat.

“Fuck, baby,” he whispered into your ear as he reach down and slowly rub your folds back and forth with the tip of his cock harder, spreading your slick across the entire length of him. “You have no idea what you are doing to me, princess…”

Your pussy burns as you stretch around his cock. You whimper softly when you felt him inside you, he encourages you the whole time, murmured compliments between his tense jaw.

You close your eyes and sink an inch deeper.

The burning stretch and you biting your bottom lip. When you squeeze a little, mark lets out a groan of pleasure. “That’s it,” he encouraged. “Just like this. Good girl. You’re going so well, princess,” he says through a pent-up groan as you lower until the plump tip of him is inside you, the praise coursing through your veins like liquid fire. “Come on, I know you can take my cock.”

“Does it feel good, baby?” Haechan asks hoarsely, pinching your nipple, as he smiled seeing you coming undone.

“S-so good! It’s so good!” You almost cry, He runs his tongue across your bottom lip and you let him in to explore your mouth, your tongues gliding over each other.

A loud moan is shared between you and mark as you sinking fully into his cock. You swear you can feel him in you chest as he opens you, pulsing and writhing wildly where you spasm along the length.

Bouncing on his cock while choking on another is how you ended up, both of them taking turns on fucking you.

“Gonna be a good girl and take us both, right?” hyuck asked. Your lip went between your teeth at the thought of having both of them inside you. You’d never done something like that, but fuck it sounded good. The second you nodded, haechan was lifting your hips and sinking you on to him. You let out a his as your soft walls opened for him. “Fuck she's so tight,” He groaned.

“mmh that ass is even tighter,” mark said from somewhere behind you giving it a spank. You instinctively rolled your hips, letting your body adjust to hyuck. He rocked his hips up slightly, admiring the moans it pulled from your lips. Mark tried to be as patient as he could so you could adjust to his friend, but his patience feared very thing watching his cock disappear inside you. He did not like feeling left out.

You felt mark press up behind you, He pushed you down so your chest was flush against hyuck’s, allowing himself to spread your ass cheeks rubbing your juices all over it. He used his thumb to spread it over your hole before lined himself up to you. His cock head pressed against you, slowly pushing through the ring of your ass.

“Aahh fuck mark!” you whined as he slowly filled you up. You gripped haechan’s shoulders, fingernails digging into his skin

“You can take it, be brave, angel” mark insisted, continuing to press inside. He bottomed out with a deep satisfied sigh. “See? Taking two cocks like no problem, that's it baby.”

They began to move inside you. It was such a strange, full sensation, but fuck you couldn’t deny it felt so good. They moved slowly at first, making sure you were enjoying it. With each moan that left your lips the moved more freely.

Both men continued to thrust into you more faster. Hyuck’s moans were lighter, on the precipice of a whine, while mark’s were deeper and raspier. It was music to your ears. “Fuck gonna cum? Let it out princess,” mark moaned.

You nearly screamed as the pleasure in your lower stomach completely snapped. Your whole body shuddered as your orgasm flamed through you, your body shaking and twitching, tears falling down your cheeks as you collapsed on top of haechan.

#nct fic #nct smut #nct dream smut #nct dream x reader #nct x reader #haechan smut #haechan x reader #nct hard hours #mark lee x reader #mark lee smut

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g3tosugu · 4 months

Text

can’t get enough

wriothesley x f!reader

wc: 1.7k

cw: reader is neglecting their health, fainting and i think that's it, but please do tell me if i missed one!

synopsis: you pick up an extra shift at Cafe Lutece but, it proves to be too much on your body as you continue neglecting your needs and Wriothesley is there to figure out why.

a/n: eeek! first post hope u like it :3c i've never written genshin stuff before which is why this is kinda short lol so please forgive me if it's not that good!!

Picking up another shift at Cafe Lutece whilst you were in the middle of prepping and training to begin work at the Fortress of Meropide was probably not the best decision you have ever made in your life. You could have easily quit your job or asked for more leniency with your scheduling and Arouet would surely understand if you explained the situation you were in. The only issue with that was you didn't want to also put him in the tight spot of having to find a replacement, especially since the Cafe was already short staffed at the current time. And now, you have decided to overwork yourself more.

The place was absolutely jam packed with people. There was a pretty intensive trial that was held today and the people who attended were starving and eager to chat about the turnout of the trial over a meal. You're not sure why you set yourself up for disappointment when you convinced yourself it wouldn't be too busy because of the rain. Instead of being a nice regular 8 hour shift, you instead were met with a very busy and never ending 10 hour shift. When you arrived an hour earlier to the Cafe today you had no idea that extra hour of leisure time was going to be something that was so vital. Too late now. You finish your shift as efficiently as you possibly could with what little energy you had left in your system.

As you exited the building, you were met by Arouet who had been out saying his farewells to the final customers of the evening. "Thank you so much again for all your help today Y/n! I really don't know what I would have done without you" he thanked you with a warm smile. You tried your best to muster a more enthusiastic response, but all you could bring yourself to do is give him a tired smile and say "Don't worry about it, boss. It's my pleasure to help you as you have helped me by giving me this job".

When you moved to Fontaine from your home of Monstadt you didn't have anything. Sure, you had your bag you had packed with things of sentimental value and some clothing but, that was it. You couldn't even bring mora with you because you had none to your name due to never having to work back in Monstadt. Your family had always taken care of you. So when you were telling them about you moving so far away, they tried to give you basic starter funds but you declined. You even lied and told them you had some mora saved from doing favors and chores for other people (usually older people) just so they wouldn't worry further. With your lack of job experience and no funds or place to go, Arouet saw how determined you were to make the most out of your situation and decided to give you a job as a waitress.

Arouet studied your face for a moment before giving a sympathetic smile. "You look like you could use a nice relaxing evening and you deserve it. Go home and be safe and please take the day off tomorrow" he gently patted your shoulder. The sudden contact and thought that you get a whole day off the next day made you perk up a little more, "Oh, thank you so much, boss! I will and same to you as well, of course. I just have somewhere to stop and then I will go home for the night".

The first few times you entered the Fortress of Meropide it was a very nerve wracking experience. You had no idea if it was a rowdy and rugged environment or a serious and strict one. But, you soon realized it wasn't as horrific and terrible as you initially thought it would be. Regardless, it was still to be considered a dangerous environment. Thankfully, with Wriothesley around, you never felt like you needed to worry.

As the guards walked you up to the large metal doors to the Duke's office, you heard a familiar voice call out to you from the cafeteria area. "Y/n! Wait!" she ran up to you enthusiastically. "Hello Sigewinne" you patted the half Melusine girl on the head and smiled at her. "What are you doing here? I didn't think you were stopping by since you seemed to be working late" she smiled up at you, but everything started to feel fuzzy. Your eyelids became harder to keep open, your vision was going in and out of focus and you started seeing spots. "Y/n?" Sigewinne called out to you, worried by your lack of response and the way you were looking physically. Before you could give her the reassurance you so desperately wanted to, you collapsed to the ground.

"Y/n! Oh no..." Sigewinne quickly walked to your side and began trying to rouse you awake. The guards that were with you quickly clamored around you to protect you from any onlookers. In the midst of the sudden event, the loud metal doors to the Dukes office opened and out came Wriothesley. "What's all the commotion out here about?", his eyes searched for just a split second before they landed on Sigewinne standing over your unconscious form with a very troubled look on her face. "Everyone move" Wriothesley ordered the guards and they immediately met his demand in return. He quickly knelt down and picked you up bridal style and started carrying you towards his office. "Wait! We need to take her to the infirmary so I can perform a proper check up!" Sigewinne tried to stop him. "You can treat her in here can't you? I don't want her out here. I want to be able to keep an eye on her" his gaze was serious and his jaw was set. He was clearly fully intent on doing this, so Sigewinne just sighed and nodded in response as she followed him into his office.

Your eyes fluttered open and you searched around your environment to try and decipher where you had ended up. Wriothesley's office. "You're awake?" you heard Wriothesley rise from his chair and walk around his desk. You slowly began to sit up and when your eyes met his, you looked away in embarrassment. You knew Sigewinne checked your condition and told him you were neglecting your needs. You had hardly eaten and you weren't sleeping a full night's rest for the past week. His eyes said it all to you. He was disappointed.

After a moment of you avoiding looking at him while also feeling his own gaze piercing right through you, you sighed. "You're disappointed in me" you looked down at your hands in your lap. "Disappointed?" his face had confusion present on it but, you fail to see it as you are still too afraid to look him in the eyes. "Oh no, I've probably frightened Sigewinne terribly, I should go show her I'm alright" you try to quickly excuse yourself from the situation. "I don't think so" Wriothesley firmly but gently grabbed your arm and pulled you towards him so he could swiftly lift you onto his desk, his palms planted firmly on the desk at your sides, effectively caging you in. You're still looking away from him. "Come on sweetheart, look at me. Please?" his voice soft in a way to show you that he isn't upset with you.

You slowly raised your head and finally met his eyes. He looked at you in a way that made you feel like you were the answer to all problems in the world. Like you were something precious and sacred. "There she is" he smiled warmly. The smile you gave in response wasn't one the same warmth in return, it was an apologetic one. "You've been overworking yourself, haven't you?" he tried to coax you to explain yourself. You nodded, "I took an extra shift at Cafe Lutece today while I've been prepping to become a nurse here". "Oh? You're going to be working here? How was I not made aware of this?" he asked as he finally moved away from you to fold his arms across his chest.

The guilty expression on your face made him let out a soft, "Y/n...". "I told Monsieur Neuvillette to keep it a secret because I was afraid you wouldn't allow me to pursue it" you admitted. "I see" he nodded and sighed. "Well, I just want to say first and foremost" he moved toward you again and placed a tender kiss on the top of your head, "I'm not disappointed in you. Not for what happened today or for keeping this secret from me" he reassured. "I also want you to know that you can do whatever you want. I don't ever want you to consider my own thoughts if you are going to put them above your own. At that point my feelings don't entirely matter do they? You are free to do as you please" he gently lifted your chin with his hand so you could look at him again.

"Besides, you act like I wouldn't want to see this gorgeous face everytime I come into work" he grinned as he removed his hand from your chin. You smiled the first genuine happy smile all day. "If you don't mind me asking, why do you want to be a nurse down here?" he asked as he took your hand in his to help you steadily hop down from his desk. "Well, I would love to work with Sigewinne of course. You know I adore her and I know she could teach me a lot of things. Her point of view in life is always so fascinating and wonderful to me as well" you went on to explain. As you went on, Wriothesley just had the most lovesick expression plastered on his face and you made note of it. "And don't act like I don't want to see your gorgeous face everyday when I come to work" you use his own words on him with a grin. He chuckled and shook his head "You're a very dangerous woman". "Hmm, maybe I've just been around you too much" you joke. Instead of laughing in response with you, he pulled you against him by your waist. "I don't know about you, but you could never be around me too much" his eyes studied every detail of your face, "No, matter of fact. I can't get enough of you sweetheart".

#genshin x reader #genshin fluff #genshin imagines #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley fluff

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milf-murdock · 3 months

Text

I See Red (Part 1)

Simon "Ghost" Riley x 141!Reader

Part 2 can be found here

Summary: A tech expert lends her expertise to the 141 for a mission. It’s not her fault that she’s tall, beautiful, and perfect. But it is her fault that she can’t keep her goddamn hands to herself. How else are you supposed to react when you walk in to find her lips on your Ghost? Warnings: allusions to cheating (not Ghost’s fault!! Sweet man has never done anything wrong in his life), swearing, angst (does it make it better if I promise all the fluff in the next chapter?) A/N: Well this has been on my brain for a while. I’m so thrilled to finally have this out into the world! The OGs know that this was one of my first prompts I came up with when I was first writing for Simon Riley. I guess we’ve come full circle <3 Thank you for all your support. Remember, your comments, tags, and messages mean the world to us writers!

It’s surprising that the harsh grinding of your teeth isn’t audible given how hard you’re clenching your jaw. You watch in irritated silence as a tall curvy redhead named Bex leans over Ghost’s shoulder to peer down at the encrypted computer.

She’s always so fucking close to him, to your Ghost.

You steady your growing impatience by taking a swig of water, the thin plastic crinkling under your touch.

“Hmm.” She leans in closer and you could tell Ghost is on edge. He wasn’t exactly the sort who tolerated too many people encroaching on his personal space.

Clearly he makes an exception when it comes to gorgeous redheads though, you think to yourself before mentally chastising the thought.

The rational side of your brain knows that he’s more than likely just putting on a brave face because Bex is new to the team. Technically, you correct yourself, not an actual part of the team. She’s more like a short term contractor. Even you had to begrudgingly admit that the 141 needed her level of expertise to crack through the firewalls and get the intel needed to ensure success for the next part of your mission. After all, you risked your life getting the damn laptop. What good is it if you can’t even get into it?

You knew all of this. Logically. It made sense. Your team needed a military-grade computer expert. She was the most qualified for the job—the “best of the best” Price had said. Done. Fin.

Except…

Except you just couldn’t get over the way her eyes always seemed to linger on Ghost. The way she’d accidentally brush up against him as they walked side by side through the hallway. The way she laughed a little too loud at his terrible Army jokes. And right now, the way her hand rests on his shoulder as she studies the screen.

Your fist unconsciously clenches around your water bottle causing the ice cold water to gush over the loosened cap, spilling all over your lap.

You let out a shout, jumping to your feet as the cold water soaks through your layers. Bex jumps as well, surprised by the outburst, stepping back from the mess.

Simon is on his feet in a heartbeat.

“You okay?” But not even his deep baritone, usually instantly calming, could soothe your irritation, now at an all time high.

“I’m fine,” you snap, crossing the briefing room in strides to toss the empty bottle in the bin. Ghost watches you with careful eyes. Though his face is covered by his signature skull balaclava, you didn’t miss his appraising gaze as he tries to assess the situation—ever the tactician.

You take a deep breath. “I’m fine,” you try again, aiming for a more pleasant tone. “Really. Just a slip of the hand.”

“Well,” Bex scoffs, “You really should be more careful. We are dealing with electronics here, you know.” Her snarky tone has you nearly seeing red again, but you clench your jaw tight and plaster the friendliest smile you could muster, though you’re certain it must look more like a grimace.

“Noted,” you grit out before turning your attention back to Ghost. “I’m gonna head to the barracks and grab a shower. Catch you later?”

Ghost’s head bobs in a subtle nod, but his eyes are still looking at you with that quizzical expression on his face. He knows something is wrong.

You just subtly shake your head in response, doing your best to a convey a “not now. We’ll talk later” with just a glance. Turning back to the door, you leave the two of them behind to tackle the task at hand. The sooner you crack the encryption and figured out where your target is, the sooner Bex can get the fuck out of here.

Walking across the base, you pinched the bridge of your nose between your fingers, internally scolding yourself for letting your temper get the best of you. The fresh, cool evening air helps calm your sour mood, and you do your best to reassure yourself.

I’m sure it’s nothing.

It’s all in your head.

He probably doesn’t even like redheads.

You’re so caught up in your thoughts you don’t even see where you were going, which is exactly how you find yourself running face first into the brick wall of Johnny.

Oomph. The air whooshes out of your lungs as two broad hands reach up to steady you.

“Easy there, lass,” the Scottsman chuckles. “Watch where yer goin’ bonnie.”

“Sorry Soap,” your cheeks feel warm with embarrassment. “Didn’t see you there. Lost in my own head.”

“I’ll say!” Johnny claps a hand on your shoulder, the other balancing a stack of folders. “Hey, while I have you here, have ye seen LT?”

“Yeah, he’s with Bex in the briefing room. They’re trying to tackle that computer we lifted from the last mission.”

Soap nods. “More power to her. That shite doesn’t make any fucking sense to me.”

“Yeah. She’s a real blessing to the team,” you grumble, unable to withhold your eye roll.

“There’s that fiery sergeant I love so much,” Soap teases. “Am I getting a whiff a jealousy, hen?”

“Don’t even get me started Soap or I swear to god—“

“Alright, alright,” Soap laughs good naturally, his free hand coming up in mock surrender. “But hey, would you mind dropping off these files to LT? He needs to review them before our meeting with Laswell in a couple hours and I’ve got to meet up with Price now, don’t have time to trek all the way to the briefing room.”

“Sure,” you do manage to hold back your sigh this time. “Happy to help.” And you are happy to help Soap—he’s a great friend to both you and Simon—you just aren’t too happy at the thought of seeing your new BFF Bex again so soon. At least the short walk had served its purpose in cooling your temper a bit.

“You’re a treat, bonnie, I owe you one,” Soap smiles, giving your shoulder a firm pat before taking off in the opposite direction towards price’s office.

You adjust the stack of sealed papers in your hands as your turned back around towards the briefing room and head across base.

You quick steps have you approaching the briefing room soon enough. Surprisingly, the door is left slightly ajar—you must not have shut it all the way when you stormed out of the room earlier, you reason.

You approach silently, softening your footsteps to avoid any kind of noise, a small voice in the back of your mind goading you to surreptitiously see how Bex might behave without an audience. You peer in the room to find Bex and Simon standing at the table, the computer screen lighting up in front of them.

“We’re in!” Bex exclaims, her voice high pitched with excitement.

You watch the scene unfold before you and it feels like the world is moving in slow motion. Bex turns her radiant expression up to face Simon, her hands moving upwards and tucking up under his balaclava, and then—in the blink of an eye—she raises it above his chin and presses a kiss to his lips. Simon’s hands reach up to grasp her wrists, already beginning to pull away, but it’s too late.

You see everything.

The papers fall to the floor with a crash, and both Simon and Bex jump apart, eyes flashing to the door.

Bex at least has the good sense to look embarrassed by her actions, her face flushing bright red, eyes cast to the ground.

“It’s not what it looks like,” Simon urges, pulling his mask back down in place. “Wait—“

You turn and walked out the door, the scene playing on a loop in your head.

Her lips. Pressed up against Simon. Your Simon. His lips…kissing her back? The memory already warps, tinged with shades of red matching the shades of anger running through you.

The rage fuels your steps as you run from the briefing room, desperate to get away.

Simon blinks at the empty space in the doorway, the space where you stood just a second ago, before this colossal shit storm descended.

“Well, sorry we got interrupted,” Bex’s sultry voice breaks the silence, her small hand reaching towards Ghost’s glove. “Should we continue where we left off?”

“Touch me again, and you lose the whole goddamn hand,” Simon’s hardened voice is laced with the threat of violence. “Keep your bloody hands to yourself.”

The blood drains from Bex’s face.

With that, he storms out the door, following your trail. One thought playing on repeat in his mind: I can’t lose her.

Masterlist ✧ Ask Box

Read Part 2 here ❤️

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley imagine #simon Riley x 141!Reader #ghost x 141!Reader #141!Reader

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munson-blurbs · 1 month

Text

Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: Eddie lowered his guard during a late night conversation, revealing crucial details about his past. But was it enough for you to reciprocate? (4.3k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, drug use, parental conflict, poverty, homelessness, brief mention of neglect, brief mention of sex work, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

chapter four: show me yours, i'll show you mine

If convincing Eddie to take the job wasn’t enough of a struggle, you still had to explain the situation to your parents.

Hi Mom and Dad, I invited a guest to help fix up the motel. The same one who stole a blanket–but don’t worry, I got it back. Oh, and he’ll be staying here for free.

They were understandably taken aback by your decision, especially without consulting them first, but you’d mustered up a strong argument: Eddie was young, he was easy to get along with, and he showed a basic sense of personal responsibility. Not to mention that the place could certainly use the repairs; peeling wallpaper was just the tip of the iceberg. Lightbulbs needed to be replaced, carpets needed to be scrubbed, and the outside of the building desperately needed to be power washed.

“Plus, summer break doesn’t start for another few weeks,” you hastily added. “We won’t need to worry about renting out Eddie’s room until then.”

Mom arched an eyebrow at the newfound ascription—not room four, but Eddie’s room—but said nothing, only looking at your father for his seal of approval.

He breathed out, long and low, trying to do the calculations in his head. Your heart flip-flopped when his gaze dropped to the ground, his signature move when he was about to tell you no.

“If he doesn’t help out, he can’t afford to stay here anyway. It’s not like we’re losing money if he keeps the room for a bit.” You winced at the slight whine in your voice, the opposite of the infallible exterior you’d wanted to present.

Dad laughed, not unkindly, but belittlement panged in your chest nonetheless. “Except for the water, air conditioning, and electricity he uses,” he pointed out, ticking off each item on his fingers. “Unless he plans to only sit in the dark, sweat, and never shower.” He sighed as unmistakable disappointment weaved into your eyes and filled them with tears.

Now you’d have to tell Eddie that the offer was off the table, that he was shit out of luck, that you’d let him down. You never should’ve opened your big mouth in the first place. Captain Save-the-World, except you only ever made things worse. If you wore a cape, it would get snagged on tree branches each time you tried to fly.

“You have a good heart,” Mom spoke up, trying to nurse your wounded feelings, “but kindness doesn’t pay the bills.” She glanced at Dad again, her mouth set in a straight line. “Maybe we can discuss this further.”

You fought to ignore the hope that bloomed from her words, but the corners of your mouth turned upwards before you could rein it in. “Thank you,” you murmured, offering them both a grateful smile.

People called you a ‘bleeding heart,’ teasing you about your constant attempts to solve problems beyond a reasonable scope. At last year’s Thanksgiving dinner, your uncle had informed you—unprompted—that he would never vote for you for President because “you’d just give all my money to the poor.”

While your parents were more realistic with their goals than you were, they did their best to encourage your compassionate spirit; there was no doubt that you got your sense of morality from them. After deliberating on Eddie’s fate for a few hours, they had finally relented—with one stipulation.

“Your mother and I are not going to supervise him, so he’ll have to work night shifts with you,” Dad had said sternly.

“Really?” You clapped your hands in celebration. “Thank you! I mean, um, Eddie thanks you.”

Dad gave your shoulders a quick squeeze; it was his version of you’re welcome. “Yeah, well.” He played it cool, keeping his tone breezy. “It’ll be good practice for when you take over the place.”

You’d nodded in response, your insides twisting in a clashing mix of excitement and shame. Eddie wouldn’t have to live on the street, but it required you to continue lying to your parents.

I’ll tell them the truth once Eddie finds a real job and gets his own place. I can only handle one crisis at a time.

That was how you’d found yourself spending your Tuesday evening with Eddie Munson. The motel was otherwise empty, save for your parents, a middle-aged trucker in room 7, and Phyllis in her usual digs.

You and Dad had spent the end of his shift covering the floor with giant flimsy drop cloths. They hadn’t been used in years, evidenced by the thin layer of dust that coated them when you’d dug them out from the back of the supply closet. You’d tried your best to shake it all off but instead sent yourself into a sneezing fit.

Eddie sauntered into the lobby at a quarter after ten. Gray sweatpants sagged at his waist, the drawstring noticeably missing from the elastic band, and his white cotton undershirt had a tan stain that spread across his left pec.

“Coffee,” he explained with a shrug, rolling a hair tie off of his wrist and pulling his curls into a messy bun at the nape of his neck. He looked at you blankly and waited for you to instruct him, but you had already dove into your schoolwork. “Um, is there a ladder? Tools?” He pursed his lips and scanned the room with indifference.

“Oh! Right, yeah.” You could have smacked yourself for not having everything set up for him. “We don’t have a ladder per se, but this step stool should work fine.” You pulled it out from behind the desk along with a scoring tool, a spray bottle filled with a vinegar and water solution, and a putty knife. “I also grabbed the clock radio from my room if you wanted to listen to some music. Might help pass the time.”

Eddie nodded, watching carefully as you switched the radio on and tuned the dial to a Top 40 station. He shook his head the moment the electric beat of Haddaway’s “What is Love” played through the tinny speakers.

“Absolutely not,” he said with a scoff, dropping the supplies right where he stood, footsteps heavy even with the cloth underneath him. Without another word, he spun the knob past the static until the sound of an electric guitar crackled through. He bobbed his head a few times, finding the rhythm. “This’ll do.”

“Not a Eurodance fan?”

His back was turned to you as he returned to the task at hand which left him unable to see the sarcastic smirk you sported. “Fuck no.” He stepped up on the tool and began cutting into the old wallpaper, puffing out an irritated laugh. “I can’t believe—scratch—you voluntarily—scratch—listen to that–scratch–shit.” His biceps flexed with each flick of the blade in a consistent rhythm.

Drumming your fingernails on the desk, you twirled your pen in your free hand as you reread your own handwriting. You’d stayed at the library and filled notebook pages with bullet points about early childhood development until a squirrely librarian kicked you out at closing time. The choppy sentence fragments begged to be fleshed out into a fully-formed essay, but you couldn’t bring yourself to focus.

Write words. Make edits. Add a comma. Do something, anything, dammit.

Almost an hour passed without you making an iota of progress on your paper. The words swam on the page until they just looked like inky squiggles with no real meaning, your brain blank as if you’d never written anything in your life. Cool air tickled your nose as you exhaled through your lips. Why couldn’t you just concentrate?

“It’s this music,” you muttered to yourself, too low for your company to hear. Your temples throbbed with frustration, and you reached over and snapped back to the previous station.

Eddie’s head whipped around at the sudden change, frowning when he heard pop music instead of the metal that had just been playing. “Seriously?” He leaned one hand on the wall and threw the other up in exasperation.

“Yes, seriously,” you bit back, teeth clenched in annoyance. “I can’t focus on my writing with that on.”

Eddie grumbled something unintelligible but went back to work, the scratching serving as a strange backdrop to the song.

Janet Jackson faded out to a too-chipper deejay. “You folks know what time it is!” His voice reminded you of old-school toothpaste commercials, over-exaggerated and unnaturally polished. “That’s right; it’s time for Rad or Retch—where I play a song from a new artist, and you call in and let me know whether you think it’s rad or if it makes you wanna retch!”

Eddie rolled his eyes, adding an exasperated “Jesus H. Christ,” under his breath.

“This one’s called ‘Watch Me Leave’ by Death’s Echo, a grunge group from—”

The announcement came to an abrupt end as Eddie nearly leaped from the stool to the desk and yanked the plug out of its socket. The two-pronged head hit the floor with a soft thud.

“Hey!” Your eyes widened in confusion and then disbelief, flickering over to where he stood. You expected him to wear a scowl that matched your own; instead, he looked like he’d just taken a knife to the gut, and you took a step back. “Whoa, you okay?”

Eddie tensed the moment he detected your sympathetic tone, shoulders pinched and jaw rigid. “‘M fine.” He pressed the heel of his left hand atop his right knuckles until they cracked. “Sorry.” He bent down and gently plugged the cord back into the wall, but you immediately flicked the power button to the off-position.

It was silent for a full minute, save for the scorer against the wall and the scratch of pen on paper. When Eddie finally spoke, his voice was so soft that you barely heard it.

“That was my band.”

Confusion creased your brows. You set down your pen and stole a glance at him. His body remained facing the wall, but he was no longer working, hands lamely at his sides. “What?”

“Death’s Echo was, uh,” he shook a rogue curl from his eyes, “that was my band.”

“Oh.” Awkwardness seeped into the room and filled every crevice as you wracked your brain for a suitable response. “But…not anymore?”

Eddie clicked his tongue. “Nope.” The p sound popped softly as though signaling the discussion’s end, but there was a pregnant pause before he started removing the wallpaper again.

“Why not?” The question sprang from your tongue, curiosity getting the best of you.

A hesitant chuckle accompanied his sigh. “I thought you didn't make small talk with strangers.” He climbed back on the step stool and ripped off a strip of paper.

“I thought we weren’t strangers anymore,” you quipped back, not missing the smile that ghosted his lips.

“Fair enough.” Eddie conceded easily, not at all angry to be proven wrong. He bit the inside of his cheek and stared up at the yellow-tinged lighting overhead before slicing into the wallpaper. “Sometimes you think you want something, but it turns out to be a steaming pile of horseshit.” The last word was punctuated by a grunt, and the last panel of wallpaper fluttered to the ground. “That’s the music industry in a nutshell.”

You nodded in agreement despite an obvious lack of knowledge.

“They sign your band,” he continued, aiming the spray bottle nozzle at the wall and pulling the trigger, “and you think it’s because they like you. Or at least your music, your sound, whatever.” He wrinkled his nose as he got an unexpected whiff of the vinegar solution’s pungency. “But you’re really just a front for whatever they want to sell. Which, apparently, is grunge.”

You had too many questions. They probably referred to record producers or agents or some other bigwigs, you surmised, but what did they do that made Eddie so cynical?

That was far too loaded to ask, at least in that moment, so you opted for a more humorous follow-up. “You mean it wasn’t all sex, drugs, and rock ‘n roll?” you joked, but Eddie didn’t share in your lightheartedness.

“At the beginning, when we first got signed, yeah.” His brown eyes exuded wistfulness, remembrance of better times. He blinked twice and snapped himself out of it. “We put out a few albums that didn’t completely flop, I guess. And we were the opening act on a couple of tours. Got a good chunk of money in the bank.”

That explained the Calvin Klein underwear he was wearing on that first night. You capped your pen and leaned in, trying not to be overly inquisitive but unable to contain yourself. “So…what happened?” What led you here?

“We get called into a meeting, and we’re all thinking that the label’s gonna tell us we’re headlining, right? Maybe not, like, The Garden, but bigger venues than we usually played. But, uh…” he trailed off and rubbed the tip of his nose with an open palm, “it was an ultimatum: shift from metal to grunge, or get dropped.”

You listened intently as Eddie relayed the ordeal. The label executives had cited the increasing popularity of Nirvana and Pearl Jam along with decreasing interest in heavy metal bands. “Cobain’s selling; Ozzy isn’t,” they’d explained. If Death’s Echo wanted to play to packed arenas and have their music on mainstream radio, they had to adapt to the times.

“I told them we weren’t sellouts and to kiss my ass,” Eddie said to you, huffing out an annoyed breath. “But the rest of the band didn’t give a shit about that; if those suits told them to jump, they’d say ‘how high.’ So, I quit and waited for them to come crawling back.”

He didn’t elaborate after that. He didn’t need to. Because if they’d done as Eddie had hoped, he wouldn’t be performing manual labor just to live in a struggling motel, basking in the gloominess that he wore like a second skin.

“If you could go back and do it differently, would you?” You grimaced at your own intrusiveness. “Sorry, that was—”

“It’s fine.” Eddie didn’t give an answer right away, his teeth grating against his lower lip. “Y’know, I’d like to say no, but losing your record deal, your apartment, your girlfriend, your so-called ‘friends,’ and every nice thing you own can make a guy kinda cynical.”

Girlfriend?

It was far from the most dire item on that list, but it needled at you. Maybe it was the mental image of Eddie watching everything get taken from him and then adding heartbreak on top of it all.

“How about you?”

His voice yanked you from your thoughts and had your heart in your throat. “Huh?”

“You. Your whole deal.” He gestured at you with the scraper. “Why you’re always doing homework like a little nerd.” You couldn't detect a note of taunting in his teasing, only playfulness, just as it had been that very first night.

You scowled for only a second before a smile broke through. “Don’t you have wallpaper to remove?”

Eddie snorted out a laugh. “I see how it is: when it’s my shit, I’m free to talk. But when it’s your shit, I’m a lowly employee.” He held up both hands in mock surrender. “My deepest apologies, Heiress.”

You didn’t bother to argue, choosing instead to pivot to a new subject altogether. “How long does this take, anyway?” Walking out from behind the desk to inspect his work, you ran your finger down the wall. Once you got past the stench of vinegar, he was actually doing a pretty good job.

“You think you could do better?” He saw your gentle ribbing and upped the ante, holding out the putty scraper as if saying, be my guest.

Plucking it from his grasp, you smirked and chose a spot right at eye level. Challenge accepted.

Though the glue had softened considerably, removing it still required decent muscle. You put your bodyweight into it and pushed through the resistance, but you only managed to pull off a little bit.

You heard Eddie laugh through his nose as he stood behind you, watching you struggle. “Harder than it looks, huh?” He ignored your middle finger and stepped a half-inch closer. “Let me help.”

One calloused hand dwarfed yours, his fingers wrapping around where your fist held the scraper. The other found purchase on the bicep of your free arm where your T-shirt’s cuff met skin, stabilizing without entrapping you. You could easily get out of his grasp if you wanted.

You stayed there.

He tightened his grip around yours and made short, downward strokes, admittedly taking off far more glue than you had. “There ya go,” he murmured. His breath was warm on your neck, gooseflesh rising when he spoke. You hoped he wouldn’t notice. “Just like that.”

Butterflies beat their wings in your stomach, a result of the unexpected proximity compounded by an unmet need for connection that starkly contrasted the night shift’s normal solitude. A loose tendril of his hair tickled against your ear, and the realization of how close your bodies actually were shattered whatever spell had been cast.

Eddie pulled away quickly, the air cooling where his hand once rested. Did he also feel that sudden loss of contact, or was it all in your head?

With a shaky breath, you stepped aside and silently returned the tool to him. “Should probably leave this to the expert,” you muttered, forcing nervous laughter. “I have to get back to writing anyway.”

His eyes bored into you as you walked back to the desk, but neither of you said another word. You glanced over at him every so often, noting the perspiration dampening his collar and under his arms as he toiled away at the glue and wished you had a water bottle to offer him.

Maybe next time.

You got halfway through the first body paragraph when Eddie spoke again.

“You’re really not gonna talk?”

You looked up to see him swipe his forearm along his brows as he shot you a tired grin.

“We just had a whole conversation,” you pointed out, returning your attention to your essay.

“About me,” he said. He wiped his palms on his pants, leaving behind a sweaty print, and traipsed over to you. “I mean, every time I see you, you’re either going to school or coming back from school or doing work for school…”

You shrugged, no big deal. “Okay, yeah, I go to school.”

“For what?”

Shit. “Hospitality and hotel management.”

“Really.” Eddie leaned over and snatched up your paper. You reached out to grab it back, but it was too late. The bridge of his nose scrunched as he read the opening paragraph to himself. “Doesn’t look like hospitality to me.” Amusement raised his brows. “Care to explain?”

It was the last thing you wanted to do, but you felt strangely obligated. He’d confided in you, so you should at least moderately indulge him.

“Fine,” you relented, “I’m studying psychology.” That might have been the first time you’d ever said those words aloud in the motel lobby; it was oddly freeing.

Eddie nodded and continued to scan the paper. “You wanna be a shrink?”

“Social worker.”

He let out a low whistle. “That’s a tough gig. Especially if you’re working with kids.” He shook the essay pages for emphasis.

“Yeah. I know.”

“Right.” He shoved one hand in his pants pocket. “What made you decide to be a social worker?”

You breathed out a laugh. “You want the easy answer or the real one?”

He didn’t hesitate before answering. “Real one. Always.” He returned your essay and rested his un-pocketed hand on the desk. Inquiring eyes beckoned you to continue.

With less trepidation than you’d anticipated, you tell him the story of that fateful day in the summer of 1987, just two years after you’d graduated from high school.

You were still working the afternoon shift, and summer break brought its usual influx of guests. People came and went in blurs of luggage, but there was one particular patron who had made her presence known.

“Hi!”

You peered over the desk to find the source of the lively greeting. A young girl, no older than five, stared back at you, syrupy grape stickiness surrounding her lips. The cause was most likely a popsicle, as evidenced by the purple stained stick clenched in her right hand.

“Um, hi,” you said with a smile that was, for the first time in a long while, not encased in customer service insincerity. “What’s your name?” And where did you come from?

Unfazed by your bewilderment, she introduced herself as Izzy and asked you if you wanted to play. “We just have to stay here, or else my mommy will get mad,” she explained with urgency.

You nodded slowly, sorting through the information without raising any alarm. “And where is your mommy?”

Izzy’s hazel eyes darted back towards the hallway. “In our room. She’s with a friend so I can’t go in.” She dropped her voice to what she considered a whisper, but it was still clear as day. “Her friend is a boy.”

Your stomach turned. Of course. Instead of watching her child, this mother was probably shooting up with her boyfriend of the week.

“I can’t play right now, but you can sit here with me until your mommy and her friend come back out,” you said. “I have paper and pens if you wanna draw.”

This satisfied her, and she plopped down on the floor and patted the spot next to her. That day hadn’t been particularly hectic, so you obliged and sat.

“What’re you gonna draw?” Izzy asked, reaching for a blue pen. You didn’t have time to answer before she proudly announced, “I’m gonna draw a flower. Do you like flowers?”

“Mhm.”

Izzy smiled as she surrounded a circle with swirling loops. “You can draw a flower, too. Maybe a rose. Or a sunflower!”

Her excitement at the latter option was all you needed. “Sunflower it is, Miss Izzy.” You drew a circle of your own and filled it with a cross-hatched pattern, curating pointed-tipped petals around it.

“D’you have crayons?” she asked, not looking up from her own flower.

You put down your pen and offered a pitying frown. “No, I’m sorry.”

“S’okay. You should get some, though. ‘Cause you can draw prettier flowers with crayons.”

The two of you stayed on the floor for ten minutes. All the while, she quizzed you on your favorite color, animal, food, and TV show. She was halfway through a heated explanation of why Friend Bear was superior to Share Bear when a frantic voice called out her name.

“Mommy!” Izzy practically flew into her mother’s arms. You watched as the woman’s entire body sagged in relief, pulling her daughter in close. A man trailed behind her, discreetly zipping up his fly and walking out the front door.

“Izzy, I told you to sit in the hall and eat your ice pop,” her mom gently scolded, words muffled by her lips being pressed to Izzy’s scalp.

Izzy scrunched her nose in confusion. “But I finished it.” She pointed at the empty stick, now on the ground where she’d been sitting, as proof. In true childlike fashion, she jumped to a new topic without waiting for the first conversation to conclude. “Mommy, you wanna see what I drawed?”

“Of course, baby.” She easily feigned excitement as Izzy presented her with a series of scribbles that were meant to be various flowers, people, and farm animals. “Wow! I think you’re gonna be an artist one day.”

The little girl continued chatting, blissfully unaware of the panic she’d inadvertently caused. Her mom allowed herself to look away for just a moment to glance at you, mouthing a tiny “thank you” and blinking her tear-filled eyes.

“And…I don’t know,” you lamely supplied as you wrapped up the story. “I guess I realized that I had all of these assumptions, this sort of preconceived notion that this woman was a deadbeat parent, but she obviously loved Izzy more than anything.” You picked at your thumbnail nervously. “No one should have to sell their body for money just to survive. She deserved better than that.”

Eddie stayed quiet for a moment, absorbing everything you’d thrown at him. “And you wanted to help her,” he finally said.

“Yeah.” You thought back to the way her gaze simultaneously held gratitude and guilt. Her daughter was safe, but she knew that this was not the final time she’d be in this predicament.

The experience had awakened a realization in you: working at the motel was never your dream, but it kept a roof over your head and food in your belly. You weren’t left to navigate the world on your own. Independence was a privilege, not a mandate.

“For what it’s worth,” Eddie broke in, “I think you’ll be a great social worker someday.” He rapped his knuckles on the desk twice and slipped back to the awaiting task; despite insisting that you talked to him while he worked, he hadn’t touched any of the tools while you spoke.

Your smile was a thank you, and you tuned the radio back to the metal station Eddie had chosen earlier. He didn’t say anything else, but you noted the subtle tap of his toe against the drop cloth.

Eddie worked for a few more hours until he’d stripped the wall of all paper and glue. “All right,” he said, balancing the step stool on two fingers. Sleepiness softened his own smile, all lips and no teeth. “Let me know when the new wallpaper comes in. You, uh, know where I live.”

“Will do.” Your thumb absently grazed against the words you’d just written, smudging them. You rubbed at the black ink seeping into your skin, silently chastising your own carelessness. “Good night, Eddie.”

He stretched and scratched at the U-neck of his collar, exposing a sliver of chest hair.

“Sweet dreams, Heiress.”

taglist:

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#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #lam

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reminiscingtonight · 10 months

Text

Meeting Morgan

Leah Williamson x Morgan!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Sisterly Love Masterlist

[WOSO Masterlist]

Collapsing onto your back, you can’t help but let out an exhausted groan.

God are you sweaty. And sore.

There’s always good sweatiness and soreness and bad sweatiness and soreness, but with the screams still echoing in your ears, this is definitely one of the good ones. Especially more so when you see the grinning face in front of you.

Letting her pull you into her arms, you all but bury yourself against your sister’s neck.

“You played great today, junior.”

“Thanks mom,” you snark back, punching her lightly in the arm when you hear her nickname for you.

Alex rolls her eyes. “It wouldn’t kill you to compliment me every once in a while too, you know. Even old ladies like me need a little bit of praise every now and then.”

Clearing your throat, you muster up a faux serious face. “Sorry. I meant to say you did a really great job getting put onto your ass by my girlfriend, ma’am!”

Your phrase is punctuated by a sharp salute, and you’re quick to duck away before Alex can put you into a headlock.

The first time it happened, it was a pretty great tackle if you do say so yourself. Yes, you and Leah weren’t on the same team tonight, but the soccer connoisseur in yourself couldn’t help but admire great skill and form when you saw it. But then it happened again. And again. By the fourth time Leah tackled your sister, you had to physically put yourself between the two of them to stop Alex from getting herself a card.

Though you wouldn’t have dared to say anything while the game was going on, now that it was over and you guys have secured yourselves a win, you know that you can tease Alex about it all you want.

“You don’t even need to introduce the two of us anymore. I’d say Leah and I are quite acquainted now with the number of times she tackled me,” comes her retort.

Despite the nonchalant way Alex says it, you can still see right through her.

You couldn’t count on one hand the number of times Alex has bugged you about introducing her to Leah. And that’s not even counting the way she’s blown up your phone prior to the USWNT’s arrival in England. The second she caught sight of you, your sister has hung around like glue, every other word being about when you were planning on pulling your girlfriend out of hiding.

A soft hand brushing against your back has you turning away from Alex. Your face breaks out into a grin when you see a familiar face. “Hey Keira.”

The midfielder is quick to return your hug, chuckling at the over-excited way you look over her shoulder in hopes of catching sight of your girlfriend.

“You don’t mind if I steal her away, do you?” The question’s directed towards Alex, but your sister shakes her head, knowing full well where you’re headed.

You’re more than happy to follow as the Lioness takes you to the other side of the field. From the looks of things, Leah’s deep in conversation with a couple of her teammates. About what you couldn’t be too sure, but you’re instantly coming up with a plan.

Putting a finger up to your lip, you tilt your head towards the group. Keira instantly gets your drift, a devious look on her face as she gives you a nod in agreement.

Georgia notices you first. She spots your approach from miles away, noting the way your eyes are gleaming with mischief. She only has time to roll her eyes at you before Leah’s following her gaze.

Blue eyes light up with delight when she catches sight of you.

It’s a bit comedic how you and Keira instantly deflate. The two of you will just have to wait for another day to cause mayhem.

“Hi babe.”

“Don’t ‘hi babe’ me. I’m mad at you.”

Your pout is instantaneous. “Babe,” you repeat, winding your arms around Leah’s waist. You know you’ve already won when you see the hints of a smile on her lips.

Leah still tries to act annoyed, scrunching up her nose at you. “You’re so sweaty.”

“Kettle meet pot,” you roll your eyes, wiping at her forehead with your sleeve.

Leah’s quick to tangle her fingers with yours when your hand drops away from her face. She pulls your intertwined hands back up to her lips, pressing a light kiss against the back of yours. You can’t stop the instantaneous flushing of your cheeks.

Georgia lets out a hoot, teasing the two of you, but Keira’s quick to drag her away, providing you two a bit of privacy. You make a mental note to thank her later.

“You know how much of a sore loser I am. You couldn’t let Lessi score a couple more goals or anything?”

You throw your head back, laughing at the pout that’s now present on Leah’s face. “I’m sure I’d get kicked off the team if I let all of the forwards get past me.”

“Well not all of them. Just Less.”

You laugh again, drawing Leah into your arms. She instantly sags against you, tightening her grip around your body.

“I’ve missed you.” The words are spoken directly into your neck, but you still manage to hear them.

“You saw me last week.”

You can almost feel Leah rolling her eyes at you. Rather than answer, she presses a discreet kiss against your skin. It takes everything in you not to let it show how flustered you’re starting to get.

“I’m trying to sweet talk you and all you’re going to focus on is how wrong I am?”

“Sorry babe. I missed you too.” It’s spoken with a little laugh, but both of you can hear the truth behind your words.

Ever since getting together, it’s rare to not go more than a couple days without seeing each other. Even when going away for your national team camps, the two of you always made sure to facetime each other whenever possible, whether that meant losing a couple hours of sleep just to catch the other. However, this time around neither of you have been able to sneak away much alone time. Leah’s been busy with her captaining duties while your national teammates have been trying to soak up as much time as they can with you before they inevitably leave across the ocean again.

“Just a couple more days.” Just a couple more days before you’ll finally finish your round of games. Just a couple more days until you can put back on the familiar red and white you’ve come to call home. Just a couple more days and you can curl up in your girlfriend’s arms, not having to worry about leaving them for at least a couple more months.

Leah hums but doesn’t say anything else.

For the next couple moments the two of you just try to soak all of it in.

Wembley is crazy. It’s huge, it’s beautiful, it’s what every soccer player could only dream of. But you’re here. And so is Leah. Though not on the same team, at least you get to experience this together.

Pressing one last kiss against Leah’s hairline, you pull away. She’s instantly pouting your way, sad of the missing heat.

“Go out to dinner with us tonight?”

Leah starts to say something before she stiffens, eyes looking a couple inches above your shoulder.

You don’t have to turn around to know she’s made accidental eye contact with your sister.

“Us as in…”

“Alex wants to meet you,” you apologetically confirm. You could only put this off so long before Alex takes it into her own hands. At least this way you’re able to control when and where it’ll happen.

Almost as if she can sense the discussion surrounding her, Alex materializes right by your side. Leah almost jumps by how quickly the forward does so, but you’re quick to glare at your sister.

Your eyes tell her everything you want to voice.

Be nice.

Alex rolls her eyes in response. Placing her arms around your shoulder, she all but shoves you out of the way so she’s standing in front of Leah herself.

Scowling at Alex, you brush yourself off. You know she definitely hears your grumbled curses as you carefully come to stand beside your girlfriend.

“Five.”

“Pardon?” Leah blinks, a bit confused by what Alex is trying to say. You’re a bit confused yourself, eyebrows furrowing in slight concern.

“I know five different ways to make you disappear without a trace. You know, just in case you break my sister’s heart.”

“Alex!” Your jaw drops as you turn red.

“And trust me when I say no one will ever be able to prove anything.”

“Alex!” you hiss, this time with more vigor.

Leah is quick to give your side a squeeze. She meets Alex’s eyes evenly. “If I ever break her heart, you’re probably going to have to get behind all of our Arsenal teammates who would be more than happy to help you make me disappear.”

“Leah, don’t encourage her!” you groan, dropping your head against her shoulder.

Alex’s lip quirks up, amused by Leah’s response. Her eyes narrow a bit before she’s letting out a hum. “I like you.”

Leah lets out an awkward chuckle. “Thank you?”

For the second time in mere minutes, Alex bodies you out of the way, sliding up beside Leah as she loops an arm around your girlfriend’s shoulder. Alex’s serious face has dropped, and you’re not sure you like what you see there as she starts leading Leah away from you.

“Now that we’ve got the whole shovel talk out of the way, which embarrassing story do you want to hear first?”

“Alexandra!”

You’re left chasing after them, cursing at Alex as you try to stop your sister from spilling any secrets.

#leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #Ace writes

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kaisers-house-of-desires · 9 months

Note

Hiii! Can I request a Gojo x male reader smut? The reader is shy especially when it come to intimacy so I feel like Gojo would tease and tease him to no end. Can you choose the kinks please? (But I'm thinking more along the lines of Bdsm or a lap dance or something. )

I really love your writing and I am sorry if this request is bad. Enjoy your day♡

Thank you for enjoying my writing! I would be more than happy to fulfill your request!

I hope you also have a good day, patron~

Title: A Hands On Lesson

Characters: Gojo x m!reader

Contains: light BDSM, blindfolding, hand job, self restraint, praise

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Full request below the cut

All characters are 18+

MINORS, FEM ALIGNED, AGELESS/BLANK BLOGS DNI

Reblogs > likes

“I-If you’re gonna keep teasing me then at least teach me!”

The words came out suddenly, your face red with embarrassment as you buried it into a pillow. Gojo had been on your ass—playfully, he says—about your shyness that it finally sent you over the edge. You two were sitting on his large bed when it came up once again, but you had had enough. Snapping, however, only made you blurt out your true feelings, leaving Gojo to get a rush of ideas.

“Teach you, huh? Are you sure about that?”

You couldn’t face him, even if his gaze was hidden by his sunglasses.

“I need an answer~”

“I…N-No you’re just gonna keep teasing me…”

“Oh, listen. I tease you because I love you. I don’t mean anything ill behind it. You’re just fun to rile up~ I like seeing your face get all red~”

You were silent, unsure of how to approach this.

“Look, if you really want to expand upon things, you might want to be open to more experiences. I’m more than willing to teach you. But…I’ll need a ‘yes, sir.’~”

Your brows furrowed as you finally looked up some. “W-Why that?”

“Consent of course! Plus…I’ve always wanted to hear that handsome voice call me ‘sir.’~”

Still flushed as ever, you took a deep breath. You had really wanted this, but the idea was always scary. However, you trusted Gojo; he was your boyfriend after all.

You thought it over another moment, clutching the pillow before releasing another deep breath. “Y-Yes, sir.”

A grin grew on Gojo’s lips as he crawled over to you like a predator that found its food, but instead of you, he actually went for the nightstand, retrieving his eye mask from the drawer.

“W-Why did you grab that?” you asked.

“Well, it’s part of your lesson. That is, if you allow me.”

You weren’t sure what this had to do with anything, but you scooted closer, putting the pillow aside and waiting for his next move. Gojo put the mask over your eyes, bunching up the fabric in a way that concealed your vision. For a moment you though he was gonna put it on himself, not you.

“Wh-What’s this for?”

“Trust me. It’s all part of the lesson okay?”

And trust him you did, taking deep breaths to settle your nerves.

“Now, will you be a good boy for me, and put your hands behind your back?” You started to before he stopped you. “Ah, could I hear a proper answer~?”

You could tell he was teasing you again. You fought your nerves, mustering up what confidence you had, which wasn’t much. Your voice sounded meek. “Y-Yes, sir.”

“Mm…we’ll work on it.”

With your hands behind your back, Gojo took action. He carefully unzipped your pants, his hand brushing your semi erect shaft.

“G-Gojo!”

He halted, watching as you trembled from that brief touch. Honestly he wasn’t sure how truly interested in this you were, so he came up with an idea.

“Hey, if you really, really don’t want to do this, just say…’pineapple’, okay?”

A safe word. Okay, that put your mind at ease a bit, because you weren’t even sure yourself what you wanted. At least you had a back up plan.

You nodded. “Y-Yeah. I gotcha. Um…g-go ahead then, just…d-don’t stare at it.”

“Don’t stare? What do you mean I can’t look at this gorgeous cock of yours~?” Gojo didn’t miss a beat getting back into it, working on revealing a partially hardened cock from its fabric confines. “I mean look at that~”

“G-Gojooooooo…” you whined softly, nails gently digging into your skin. His touch felt heightened thanks to the blindfold, and your trembling body was a clear sign of it.

“Good boy~ Very good boy~” He gently began to stroke your cock, anything soft nearly immediately hardening as you sighed out in slow, deep breaths. You didn’t know praise could feel so good. It felt nice hearing him call you a good boy.

“Wh-What else is…i-in this lesson?” you breathed, your hips rocking up to match his strokes.

“Hmm…Well first, good boys stay still…”

Though it wasn’t a command, you found yourself stilling in place, biting your cheek to help you focus.

“Oh? Well I wasn’t expecting that. You stilled yourself right away. I think that deserves a treat~”

You were about to ask what it was, but you stopped yourself, wanting to just see where this would lead. Knowing you had that safe word made this a little less scary, which left you open when Gojo’s hand picked up pace, causing you to actively moan out instead of whimper.

“There we go~ That’s my good boy~”

Every time he said it, you let out a whimper, enjoying the sensation the words gave you.

“G-Gojo…I-I…—a-ah~—I-It feels…g-good~”

Perhaps it was the blindfold, or maybe it was the trust you had for Gojo, but you didn’t feel as nervous. Sure it was still nerve wracking, or maybe your nerves were too wracked to notice, but the pace of his hand alone felt like bliss.

“G-Gojo…s-sir, I’m…I-I’m gonna…~”

“Go ahead~ I want to see that handsome face contort from this~”

You threw caution to the wind, your hands coming down to balance you on the bed, fingers clenching the bedding as you bucked up into his hand, panting deeply as your climax approached. You moaned for you boyfriend again and again, even as it pitched up, until you finally released over his hand with a broken moan, relaxing afterwards.

With a small smirk, Gojo raised his hand to his mouth, his tongue coming out to clean his hand while getting a taste of you with a soft groan.

“G-Gojo…” you breathed. “I…Th-That was…fun~”

You felt the bed shift, and the fabric lifted up from your eyes, Gojo’s face smiling smugly at you.

“Ready for lesson number two~?”

#kaisers house of desires #x reader #x male reader #x male y/n #x male smut #male reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu gojo #gojo smut #gojo x you #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #jjk #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk gojo

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gottagetback2u · 11 months

Text

✰ stray kids as uni bfs!

warnings: mentions of food, too much boyfriend material, cause of death: uni!seungmin, inconsistent use of correct spelling

welcome to my first post! <3

-✰bang chan

uni!bangchan definitely… struggles :’) he stays awake till 2-3am every night, either doing homework or procrastinating and making music. thank god his roommate basically lives with their partner, because u get to stay in his dorm with him during these early mornings, urging him to stay on task so he can sleep.

u guys met at the gym!!! u were trying to get back into exercising after the spring break and he saw u on the treadmill. literally hearts in his eyes. like the shy guy he is, he waited until u were almost out of the door before asking “do u go to the uni around here?”

let’s just say he was giggling and kicking his feet when u offered ur number to him <3

bang chan credits u for every completed assignment! he loves that u are so willing to help him, even if he is embarrassed to ask sometimes. (it goes like, “babe.. ugh i’m so sorry but what the fuck does he mean by this?”)

he will get u breakfast from the campus cafe before all of ur morning classes. he says it’s his job as a boyfriend, even if he only got four hours of sleep! (one time he slept in and got u lunch AND dinner to make up for it)

-✰lee know

lee know is an interesting student to say the least. his electives are all “art 101” and “basket weaving” because those are the ‘easy’ classes (sadly, no college class is easy) though, surprisingly, he is very interested in his major classes! studious student.

his go-to look is glasses with a comfy hoodie and sweatpants. when u see him on campus u can’t help but stare. comfy bf material.

u guys always seemed to cross paths at the off campus grocery store! u happen to be picking up comfort snacks after crying ur eyes out due to stress :( he strolled down the same aisle as u, quickly recognizing the university hoodie u had on, staring longingly at what oreo flavor to choose with fresh tears in ur eyes.

“i like the java chip ones :)” after he saw ur tears, he bought them for u.

ur dates consist of: trudging along campus to classes together, movie nights with snacks in the oh so comfy twin sized dorm bed, and grocery store runs! he also loves to do sheet masks together! (just don’t tell anyone how soft he is for u)

studies come second to him. u come first <3

-✰changbin

a jock but not in the aggressive type way. he just wants to lift and pass his classes. (which he always does! nothing below a B- for binnie)

he is good with in-class work! whipping out assignments while the teacher is talking about the subject is light work for him. but homework… alone in his dorm…. his kryptonite. for some reason focusing is so hard in that situation!

when u first heard him speak in economics class, u didn’t expect him to be so sweet?? u sat a couple rows back, so good thing he couldn’t see ur constant staring. his smile, his biceps, his too-tight shirts, his everything.

group projects are ur guys’ weakness because you somehow always get put together. (not that u mind!) in ur third group project this semester, he bit the bullet and asked u out! he was so nervous that he made a whole google slide saying “will u go out with me?” he asked han to decorate it lol.

studying together is no easy task. ur talking about currency then suddenly in a sweet make out sesh! he said he couldn’t handle the “sweet” looks u were giving him.

really soft boyfie !

-✰hyunjin

my art student. what else would he major in?

you guys actually met in starbucks on campus! hyunjin tries to do essays in a cafe setting to “stay focused” (he really just wants to be aesthetic).

you work as a barista, and after taking his order, he couldn’t take his eyes off of u for the 2 hours he was there. he ended up sketching u instead of write his essay! shockingly, he was able to muster up the courage to at least ask ur major before he left (aka, rushed out and ran into the door).

you guys are the sickly sweet couple everyone sees on campus. u are always together!!! hyunjin wants nothing to separate ur hand from his >:(

of course, when he has freedom to choose for his big projects in his art classes, he always chooses something that reminds him of you. he doesn’t like painting portraits that much, so he will choose to paint ur favorite flowers, your first date scene, your hand holding his… yeah, he’s that type of boyfriend :’)

he despises his required classes, like english and math. he doesn’t understand it like he understands art, so he needs ur support!! please run ur fingers thru his hair when he’s whining about his weekly reading!

he loves ur relationship more than anything <3 he’s so happy he can spend his college years with u

-✰han

oh boy. how do we even start this.

i think he tries his best. he really does! he doesn’t want to be one of the few in his class failing, but he just doesn’t really grip onto learning the required subjects like english.

this is how u two met! u work for the university as a tutor, and han was required tutoring for english or else he would get dropped from the class :( he showed up to the tutoring session in an empty lobby in the main campus building, and as soon as he laid eyes on u, he cursed himself. he was supposed to be learning, how can he do that when he has the prettiest person in front of him!! :’(

even outside of ur sessions u help him all the time! he appreciates ur help so much, and of course he doesn’t want his partner to have to help him with his work 24/7, but u don’t mind at all.

his schedule is chaotic. wake up, go to class, go by the convenience store to get both of u snacks, come back to UR dorm, nap in UR bed, wake up when u get back from classes, walk around campus together, get dinner in the dining hall, then fall asleep at HIS dorm.

he always praises himself for choosing to live in a quad with his own room and praises u for working for the university so u get ur own dorm. “it’s like we knew we were going to date!”

he always shows his love and appreciation. power college couple <3

-✰felix

felix has the time of his life in college. he loves being independent, doing something new, and just taking it all in.

that’s why he decided to be ambitious his freshman year; getting a job right away at the campus cafe, and also continuing his hobby of dance by taking a freestyle dance elective!

u were also taking the elective class to try and get more in to ur passion for dance. u never felt too confident in ur skills, so what better way to improve than in a class with others that were learning too!

when felix walked in the room the first day of class, looking all professional in his beanie, oversized sweatpants and a plain t-shirt, u were immediately attracted… but also intimidated!! he must be so good (>:d) u guys actually got put as partners for ice breakers, then a partner project, then a mid-term project, realizing how genuine and sweet he is!!

let’s just say,, things got a lil close for ur projects. flirting was a given around him and kissing, definitely happened.

and even though his excitement for college was a 100! his grades… struggled to reflect that :( like others, college is hard to grasp sometimes!! u continued to help him and remind him that everyone is having a hard time too <3

another sickly sweet couple. he just can’t pry himself away from u!

-✰seungmin

i kinda feel like seungmin is like,, the perfect fit for uni boyfriend? he just gives off those vibes to me so much. (yes i am seungmin biased haha)

does he have all 100% in his classes? yes! does he procrastinate? hell yes…..that’s all he does. to try and help his problem, he wants to study with u! he thinks that this will help him focus more bc silence is always comfortable between u two. but it just ends up him playing some game and u watching, messing him up every time he’s close to passing the level.

if you guys have an in-person class together, he wants needs to sit by u. he doesn’t find it right that u don’t want to sit next to ur own boyfriend. how dare u actually want to listen to ur professor instead of engage in snarky side conversation the whole time >:(

he loves walking around campus late at night. not like, 2am but more like 10pm lol (cuz besides staying up for hw, i feel seungmin is an avid sleeper). after ur night class, he will meet u by ur dorm building and walk around, hands linked the whole time. this is the time where he’s affectionate and loves to talk about ur relationship aww!! it’s conversation like “i remember the first time i held ur hand”, and “we should have another takeout homework date in the library soon”.

i could literally go on and on about uni!seungmin bc it’s a perfect match ahh.

-✰i.n

high school classmates to college classmates! it might have been handy to know someone going into college…. if u and jeongin even knew who each other were.

“yang jeongin? he was in my homeroom? uhh-“

i.n thought that he didn’t need help going thru his first year. he wanted to be independent and make friends on his own >:( butttt with each passing day, adjusting to new classes and even his roommate moving out, he couldn’t even manage to talk to someone new for more than a minute.

u finally recognized him when u saw his academy hoodie he was wearing one day! u rushed to reach him before he entered the classroom, and when u two made eye contact… god jeongin thought the world stopped.

from then, u guys slowly started seeing each other more, than exchanging numbers, then hanging out! ur hangouts usually consisted of studying, but it always ended up in doing to the dining hall and eating together, staying in their right until it closed.

let’s just say, u both struggled in the homework department. but quizzes?? yang jeongin is, surprisingly, an academic weapon.

he loves quality time with u. staying up late, just being in each other arms and talking about nothing.

he will also most definitely require u to watch old minecraft videos with him. quality time right! :)

masterlist!

#sapphire’s log~#🎧#stray kids #kim seungmin #bang chan #hyunjin #lee felix #changbin #lee know #han jisung #yang jeongin #skz headcanons #skz x reader #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids soft thoughts

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roseghoul26 · 20 days

Text

Part 2

Javier Escuella x femVirgin!Reader

Synopsis: You and Javier are to attend a party in Saint Denis, hoping to rob the owner of the establishment. Your role is to distract the man while Javier sneaks up to his room, stealing bonds rumored to be worth a good bit. The only problem is, the two of you are pretending to be husband and wife, which would be fine if you weren’t completely in love with the man. Will you be able to muster up the courage to finally confess to him, or will your personal anxieties hold you back from getting what you want?

Tags: fluff, smut, friends to lovers, fem!Reader, reader is described to have longer hair but that’s about it, reader is afraid of intimacy, but like still wants it, unwanted touch (not from javier), unwanted sexual advances (not from javier), non consensual touching (not from javier), basically any noncon stuff is not done by javier, degrading language towards women, first kiss, love confessions, virgin reader, not beta read, angst, unsafe sex

Author’s Note: i realized while writing this that the song “Slut!” by taylor works so well with fic, and i was going to change the title to a lyric from it but i already committed to this title

also, this is the part that contains non consensual themes, but there is not actually assault that happens. if you’re not in the right headspace to read something like that, please skip this fic!

part 1 ❉ part 2

If you had to laugh at one more awful joke, and to continue pretending like you were oh so interested in the history of a family’s company, you were going to hurt someone. You were thankful for Javier’s charm, letting him take the lead in most of the conversations, but you could tell that even he was getting exhausted.

It had been about an hour and a half since the two of you arrived, spending most of your time mingling with the other guests, blending into the crowd as you awaited an opportunity to speak with Lee. But he was apparently a very important man, constantly being whisked away by other people before you could even approach him. He was constantly moving between floors, meaning that even you had to get his attention for a good while to allow Javier a chance to get into his room.

The two leaned side by side at the bar now, each of you nursing a small glass of some brandy. He had his arm around your shoulders, and you observed the crowd with disinterested eyes. Lee was currently in conversation with two other men, and he had been for the last ten minutes.

Your feet were aching, and the corset was tiring, but it did its job as a distraction. More often than not, you watched men’s eyes roam over your body as Javier talked, and they seemed more eager to answer his questions and engage, if you didn't have a bit longer to look at you. It made you feel disgusted, but you could handle it for a night. But, thankfully, no one had laid their hands on you, mainly because your ‘husband’ was beside you most of the night.

The man beside you bent towards your ear, voice barely audible over the sounds of the party. “Are you doing alright?”

You smiled half-heartedly. “I’m ready to be done.”

“You and me both,” he chuckled dryly.

“I will say, it’s much more bearable because of you.”

He didn’t respond, but he pulled you in closer. Because his arm was across your shoulders, he had access to exposed skin, and you felt him lightly dance his fingers across it. It felt quite nice, and you felt yourself begin to unwind.

That was until you watched from across the room as Arthur raised his hands up, in a heated disagreement with another man. You nudged Javier, gesturing over to Arthur with a nod. “I swear, we can’t bring him anywhere.”

Javier laughed. “That we can’t. I’ll be right back, mi amor.” Kissing the top of your head, he removed himself from you, and you felt cold at the lack of contact.You already missed his hands on you, and despite what you believed, the growing fire inside of you didn’t cool down at all when he stopped touching you. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, right? As he made his way toward the cowboy, you heard him begin to defuse the situation; his honeyed words could cool down even the most aggravated people.

As you watched, trying and failing to keep your eyes off the way his hips swayed as he walked, a new presence made themselves known beside you, on the opposite side of where Javier once stood. Taking a sip of your drink, you glanced up at the new figure, nearly choking on your drink when you saw who it was.

“You enjoyin’ the party, ma’am?”

“I am, Mr. Reginald.” Time to turn on the charm. “The name’s Anna. Anna Howard.” You extended a hand towards him, which he took. He kissed the back of your hand, and you were successful in fighting the urge to pull it away. You were able to get a closer look at him, pretending to look interested in him as you did so. He was older, probably around Hosea’s age, with a scrappy white beard that scratched against your skin even through the glove. His longer hair was slicked back, and he had almost unsettling blue eyes that didn’t even bother to look into yours. His white skin was blotched with red, his cheeks ruddy with drink.

“A lovely name for a lovely woman,” he murmured as he straightened, flashing you a smile that you figured was supposed to be appealing. His teeth were partially rotten, and looked the color of turmeric, and you could smell the alcohol on his breath. But he didn’t let go of your hand. “And you can just call me Lee.”

Pushing back your disgust, you smiled back at him. “A pleasure, Lee. You really know how to throw a marvelous party.”

Disregarding your compliment, you watched his eyes flick to Javier, a look of disdain in his eyes. “Is that your husband?”

Following his eyes, you watched as Javier escorted the man that Arthur was arguing with away, but his eyes were on you, an unspoken question in his eyes. Am I good to sneak away? What you didn’t notice was the barely restrained anger, jaw clenching and unclenching as he watched what was unfolding. You nodded, both at Javier and Lee, and you turned your attention away from Javier. “He is,” you laced your words with disappointment, and you could tell he heard it. “Married for two years.”

Before you could react, you felt the hand still grasping yours rip your glove away, a pleased grin on his face as he examined your hand. You let out a shocked gasp, which he took at you enjoying what he just did, his grin turning even larger. “I thought I didn’t feel a ring.”

“Don’t tell him,” you winked. He let go of your hand, shaking his head with a smile while handing you back your glove, which you slipped back on. You were killing this man in your mind, but you forced your face to seem flustered.

“Any children?”

You shook your head. “It ain’t for a lack of tryin’, though.” You laughed, and he joined in as well. He has still yet to make eye contact with you, eyes practically glued to the rest of your body. Pushing your chest forward, you watch his gross eyes widen. Grabbing your clutch from under your arm, you reapplied the rouge, and for once you watched his eyes flick to your face. Popping your lips, you tucked the rouge away, and you saw how he tracked every movement of yours. You had him right where you wanted him. Now you just needed to give Javier about fifteen to twenty minutes, then he’d be whisking you away, Arthur in tow, and then you’d never have to see this man again.

“I’m surprised your husband let you go out in somethin’ like this,” you felt him run the back of his hand against the bodice of your dress, running just under the cup of your breasts. You stiffened under his touch, but you were thankful that his body language comprehension was absolutely terrible, because he seemed to think you were liking it. You saw Arthur begin to approach the two of you, but he stayed close enough away to not interfere with what was happening, but he was ready to do anything if things went south.

“Actually, he chose it for me, for tonight.”

“So he likes parading his wife around, like she’s a whore.”

His words had your blood turning cold, your heartbeat hammering in your ears, and you wanted nothing more than to tear yourself away. You steeled yourself, trying to not seem as affected as you were. “Whatever makes him happy.”

He laughed at that. “You like it, no?”

“I-”

“You like havin’ everyone else’s eyes on you, don’t you. I mean, you were practically pushing your tits to my face a moment ago. You that desperate for attention, huh? Your husband not givin’ you enough?” You wanted to roll your eyes. For the love of…

“I’m sorry, it’s just,” you began to cry, a neat little trick you could pull out whenever you felt like it. “Old habits are hard to break, you know?” You elaborated more. “I used to offer my services to men… that’s how we met. He used to be so sweet.” You laughed bitterly. “But, ever since we got married, he hasn’t been treatin’ me right, always seeing’ other women, comin’ home late, and…” you took a moment to breathe, letting a tear escape from your eye, no doubt smuggling the kohl around it. “And he’s left me so unsatisfied. I wish I never married him!” You were playing into exactly what he wanted to hear, and he was hanging on to every word you said.

He cooed at you, demeaning in every sense of the word. “You poor thing,” his hand tugged at your waist, pulling you into him.

You tried to push him away, arguing that he might see, but he chuckled. “Look around. He’s nowhere to be seen. He’s probably got his hands on another woman right now. Isn’t that terrible?” He pulled you in close to him with a hand on your hip, and you shuddered.

You nodded, looking around for Javier. Just as he had said, he was gone, and you were content with that, the job going smoothly. “What kinda woman am I, who can’t keep her own husband loyal to her?”

“It’s not your fault, sweet thing. I’m not sure how any man could be unfaithful to a beautiful thing like you…” both hands now wrapped around your waist, pulling your back into him. His lips tickled your ear as he whispered to you, and you held back a gag at the stench. “How ‘bout I show you how a real man treats his woman.” You couldn’t even respond before he was pulling you towards one of the stairs by your hand. He had an iron grip on you, and you found yourself unable to pull away. Glancing behind you, you saw Arthur trying to follow you, but he was stopped by a group that were claiming very loudly that they knew him, getting more and more aggressive by the minute. He looked understandably panicked, eyes not leaving you as he tried to push through the group surrounding him. You mouthed I’m alright, despite the panic that threatened to overwhelm you.

“Right now?” You sounded calm, much to your surprise. He nodded, not even looking back at you. “What about the party?”

“It’ll be there when we’re done.”

Shit. It had only been about seven minutes since the two of you had started talking, not nearly enough time for Javier to be done. And if he was taking you to his room, that’ll probably be where the bonds are located, and, in turn, where Javier would be currently trying to rob him. So much for the job going smoothly.

But you didn’t want to raise suspicion, so you went along with Lee, keeping as much distance away from his as you could. He kept his iron grip, nearly causing you to stumble up the stairs, your shoes catching on the carpet. His hands were so much worse than Javier’s, demanding and harsh; the hands belonged to someone who didn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.

When you reached the top floor, you let your facade drop slightly, looking around for some exit. Every door looked the same, a deep mahogany, and the hallway seemed to extend to infinity as he marched down it. A thin rug extended down the center of the floor, and so you tried your hardest to walk along the hardwood floor, praying that Javier would hear the approaching noise of your heels.

Wordlessly, he suddenly halted in front of one of the doors, opening it quickly, pulling you in forcefully. It was at that point you were debating screaming. Would someone come help you? Would they be able to even hear you over the party? Lee was not a large man by any means, old and scrawny, but he still had the upper hand right now. And you didn’t know if he had any weapons on him, and you weren’t too keen on finding out.

The room, thankfully, was devoid of any other people besides you and Lee. He finally let go of your wrist, and you snatched it close to you, rubbing at the hurt skin. He stepped further into the room, passing by a large closet and dresser that housed a washbin before reaching the bed. Keeping his back turned to you, he slowly began to undress. Now, you debated running out the door behind you. You knew you probably wouldn’t be able to get far, your shoes and dress restricting you from moving easily.

Your mind was made, however, when you saw the closet door creak open, and you barely suppressed a surprised noise. A familiar figure stood hidden in the shadows, various jackets and garments hiding him further, and you nearly cried in relief. It was at that point you noticed the large desk and safe in the corner, your theory that his bonds would be in his room being right. Javier tried to exit, but you stopped him with a panicked look. One slight turn from Lee and he would see. Even in the dark, you could see the conflict on his face, and you held up a finger, telling him to wait. He nodded, and you saw the glint of a blade, which helped to ease your worries.

“Are you just gonna stand there?” Lee’s gruff voice made you jump, and you turned your attention back to him. He still had his back to you, working off his tie and unbuttoning his shirt, his jacket discarded on the bed.

You didn’t dignify him with a response, making your way to the large window that faced the streets of Saint Denis. It was partially open, a cool night’s breeze tickling your skin. “Don’t think about jumping,” you heard him try to joke, but it came out more as a threat. He had sat on the bed as you approached the window, and you heard the wooden frame creak as he got up. You retrieved the hidden blade from your clutch, pulling off the fake comb top. It was a tiny little thing, a needle compared to the hunting knife you saw Javier frequently use, but it could cause some damage if need be.

Holding it to your chest, your breathing slowed as you heard him approach, floorboards creaking with each slow step. “I’ll make sure you get paid after this.”

“I said I was a working girl.”

He scoffed. “Sure, whatever makes you feel better.” He took another step towards you. “Get on the bed.”

With the assurance that Javier was also in the room, you found yourself surprisingly confident, shaking your head at his question. That pissed him off, and you could feel the anger beginning to roll off of him. Still, you faced away from him, gripping the blade so tightly that your fingers ached.

“It wasn’t a question. Get on the bed.”

“And I said no.”

In surprising swiftness, you felt his fingers grasp at the back of your neck, and you figured he would’ve gone for your hair if it wasn’t pinned up. His fingers had merely grazed your skin before you were spinning around, the blade flying at his face with unrestrained fury. A streak of crimson cut through the air as you hit your mark, the blade running across the entire side of his face, barely missing his eye by a quarter of an inch. He stumbled back a few feet, shocked, clutching the side of his face.

Blood poured from his fingers, and he looked up at you with hate in his eyes. “You whore! C’mere!” Lee attempted to lunge for you, but was easily stopped Javier wrapped his hand around the face of the man, muffling him as he pulled him down to the ground. His knife pressed into the delicate skin of his neck, pressing so hard that droplets of blood began to appear. A shocked noise that turned into a muffled noise left Lee’s mouth, turning into a cry when Javier dug the knife in deeper. A satisfied smirk graced his lips when he heard Lee reduced to a whimpering mess, and his blazing eyes found yours.

Ignoring your desire, you sighed in relief, and you let your arms loosen, the blade falling to your side. “What do you want to do with him, mi amor?” Javier sounded almost breathless, and you watched as the blood from Lee’s wound began to coat Javier’s hand.

A part of you wanted to see him dead on the floor, but you refrained yourself. “Let him live,” was all you said, not bothering to give an explanation, not that you had one; you just didn't want him to die.

Not yet, that is.

Letting out a sigh that almost sounded like disappointment, Javier adjusted his blade so that it was no longer completely digging into Lee’s skin. “You’re lucky that I listen to what she tells me, cabrón. If she wasn’t here, you’d be long dead. You know what…” Javier moved his hand so that it no longer covered his mouth, but he kept his blade where it was, ready to move if he decided to make a noise. “Why don’t you tell her how thankful you are that she spared your miserable life?”

Lee took a few shuddering breaths, tears mixing in with the blood that streaked down his face. “T-Thank you,” he rushed out, eyes squinting closed as he braced himself for the final blow from Javier.

“And…”

“And?” Lee practically squawked.

“You said some pretty nasty things to her. Maybe you ought to apologize.” You watched Javier’s jaw clench as he recalled the small bit he heard, and it was evident that he was using every ounce of restraint in his body to not just end Lee then and there. If he knew what all was said to you, then Lee would be lifeless right now.

“I’m sorry!” Lee cried out, and Javier gave an approving noise in response. You couldn’t care less if he apologized to you. Quite honestly, it was much more rewarding watching Javier force the man into submission. You realized watching him like this was turning you on, growing increasingly warmer despite the cold air from the window.

You needed to speak to a doctor. Or a priest.

“Very good,” Javier praised, his voice gravelly. “Now that that’s out of the way.” With ease, you watched him flip the knife around his fingers, now holding it in a way that allowed him to bash the butt of it against Lee’s head. He fell to the ground like a sack, body hitting floor with a thud.

You weren’t quite sure what to do with yourself, too many emotions running through your body. Anxiety still persisted in your brain, reminiscing over all the what ifs and scenarios that could have transpired if Javier hadn’t been in the room. You were grateful that he was here, and there was that feeling in your chest again, increasing with every beat of your heart. And much to your surprise and embarrassment, you found yourself aroused, every fiber of your being needing Javier.

He stood in front of you know, deep concern in his eyes as he regarded you. You watched as he raised his hands up, ready to wrap his arms around you, until he saw the blood on his hand, and realized you wouldn’t want to be touched right now. He couldn’t have been more wrong.

Without saying anything, you placed the blade back into your clutch, not bothering to recover it back up. You grabbed the handkerchief instead, and you felt his eyes on you as you grasped his wrist gently with your other hand, pulling it towards you. He had his jacket on still, which did enough to hide the blood that stained his clothes, but a few specks still dotted the white sleeves of his shirt that poked out.

Pulling him toward the wash bin, you dipped the handkerchief into the water before you got to work on wiping away his skin. He tried to protest, but you cut him off with a gentle yet firm look.Javier set his blade on the dresser, and the two of you stood in silence, the only sound your breathing and the occasional splash of water as you redipped the handkerchief into it. The water turned from clear to a rusty brown as you worked, which you watched with rapt attention, scared of how you would react when you looked into his eyes.

As you dipped it into the water for the final time, Javier finally spoke, his voice still a bit raspy. “Guess you don’t need those knife lessons, then.”

You chuckled, setting the rag down on the dresser as it turned into a loud laughter that shook your body. You weren’t quite sure why you were responding like this, but you figured it was probably shock. You didn’t even register that you were crying until you felt his freshly cleaned hands rest on the sides of your face tentatively, growing more confident when you nodded your consent. He murmured your name softly, brushing your tears away with his thumbs. “Mierda, sorry. It was a bad joke…”

“It was funny,” you said through tears. “It’s just… God, I felt so weak. I haven’t felt that scared since… forever.”

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head, mouth opening to respond, but a fresh wave of tears threatened to overwhelm you. Not trusting yourself to speak, you practically crashed yourself against his chest. Javier cried out softly, startled, as you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him in close in a tight hug. His familiar scent helped to calm you, and when you felt him reciprocate the hug, strong arms tight around you, you felt your heart rate begin to slow. You're sure your makeup was running on to his jacket, but it didn’t matter now; it was already dirty.

His fingers traced soothing patterns on your back, and he rested his head on top of yours. You're not sure if he held you for a few moments or a few hours, time seemingly nonexistent beyond the two of you. But of course, reality was quick to catch up with you, the sound of the door being kicked down hardly pulling you from his embrace as you spun around, grabbing the knife on the dresser before Javier could.

Arthur stood in the doorway with his hands up, eyes flicking from the knife in your hands to the man unconscious on the floor, quickly connecting the dots. “Don’t do that shit, Arthur,” you snapped, practically slamming the knife back down on the dresser. “I could’ve hurt you…”

“Are you alright?” He asked, typically not caring for his own safety. He approached you like you were a spooked horse, though, which was quickly annoying you.

“What do you think, you idiot?” A voice behind you interjected, and you felt him slide his hand across you back as he moved around you. His eyes were blazing with anger, getting into Arthur’s space. “What the hell happened?” You watched Javier shove the other man, which he took, guilt evident on his face, but you saw the angry storm clouds begin to roll in behind Arthur’s eyes.

“You had one job, and you fucked it up!” Another shove, and you watched Arthur’s jaw clench. “You nearly got her assaulted!” Javier's voice had raised significantly in volume, emotion causing his voice to break ever so slightly as he spoke. “How did you-”

“You think I don’t know that?” Arthur finally snapped, which was a hard thing to do. Guilt probably snipped his fuse, and the immediate attack by Javier ignited it. “You don’t think I’ve been fightin’ like hell to get up here?” He scoffed. “It ain’t my fault you asked the most recognized man in camp to tag along with y’all!”

“Oh, so it’s my fault now?” Javier challenged. “You wanna know why, then, you asshole? Because you’re the only one I trust to make sure nothing happens to her,” he snarled, jabbing his finger into Arthur’s chest. “You think Micah, or Sean, or Bill would give two shits if someone dragged her away?” He shook his head with a sneer on his mouth. Arthur didn’t respond, but his silence was all that Javier needed. He took a breath, stepping back a few paces from Arthur.

“You know I wouldn’t let anything happen to her, right?” Arthur’s voice was soft, which was surprising given the circumstance. “But you know she doesn’t need our constant protection, right?”

Whatever temporary peace that had been created between the two men shattered instantly, Javier getting right back into the other man’s face. “She didn’t even have a damn gun, Arthur. All she had was a tiny knife that could barely hurt a mouse. The only reason she managed to get him,” he pointed angrily at Lee, not bothering to turn his head to look at him, “was because she caught him off guard. And I know she doesn’t need my- our protection. I’ve seen her toss men double her size to the ground with ease, I’ve seen her knockout men with a single punch. I’ve seen it all.” Javier took a deep breath before continuing. “But that was when she was free to move, without having that goodman dress on. She can barely even walk, let alone defend herself tonight.”

“You stepped in before anythin’ could happen.” Arthur tried to reassure the man.

“But what if I hadn’t? What if I had been in another room, too busy robbing that bastard to even notice? What if there had been more than one guy in here? What if he drugged her, or what if I didn’t hear her approaching down the hallway?” Javier began to pace as he ranted, running his fingers through his hair, pulling part of it out of the tie.

As entertaining and endearing as it was to hear them argue about you, you were tired of being talked about like you weren’t even there. Clearing your throat gently, you got their attention, Arthur giving you an apologetic smile. Javier took a little bit longer to catch your eye, having to turn around to do so, but you watched as the fire in him immediately fizzled out as he looked at you, any anger left in his body leaving in a final shaky exhale.

You smiled gently, folding your hands in front of you. You had taken your gloves off during their disagreement, the garments becoming wet while you cleaned Javier’s hands, and you had tucked them away into your bag. You watched as his gaze went down to your intertwined hands, a smile about to grace his own lips before it was overtaken by a shocked gasp.

Everyone’s eyes in the room followed where Javier was looking, with similar reactions across the board. Where Lee had gripped you was an already bruise in the shape of his hand, encompassing almost the entirety of your wrist. You hadn’t realized he grabbed you that hard. Looking back up, you saw an outraged look on Arthur’s face, but it was nothing compared to the sheer hatred and disgust on Javier’s. You were grateful that you still had his knife by you, or else Lee’s blood would be spilt right now.

A combination of curses and Spanish left Javier’s lips as he pulled away from Arthur, finally giving the other man space. You expected him to make his way over to you, which he started to do, but he halted a few steps in. Confused, you cocked a brow at him, and he just shook his head, backing away backwards toward the door. “I’m gonna get the carriage,” you heard him mutter, eyes fixated on the bruise on your wrist as he continued to back away.

“Javier-” you tried to stop him, but it was clear he wasn’t in the right headspace to listen.

“I’ll see you in a minute, mi amor.” And with that, he left you and Arthur alone in stunned silence.

Trying to not seem too upset, you forced a smile on your face, which probably looked as pained as it felt. “Do you think he got the bonds?” You asked, and the other man looked confused. “You know, the thing we came for?”

Recognition flashed across Arthur’s face, and he shook his head. “Don’t think so. Didn’t have enough time, probably. Why?” You briskly made your way over to the safe, getting down on your knees ready to begin cracking it open. “After all that, you’re still worried about the bonds?” Arthur asked in disbelief.

“After all that, I ain’t returnin’ to camp empty handed. Now, tie him up for me,” you gestured at Lee, and Arthur nodded.

“Yes, ma’am,” he muttered, but he still complied, and you rolled your eyes before preparing yourself to get to work. You weren’t an expert at cracking safes by any means, but you could get it done with enough time. The metal was cold against your face as you pressed it against it, listening to the inner workings of the safe. You were able to see Arthur move out of the corner of your eye as you began to turn the dial slowly, listening for the telltale click.

It was when Arthur finished tying up the man that you heard the first click, and you glanced down to see what the first digit of the code was.

34.

Moving the dial to the right, you felt Arthur watch you while you worked, but you paid him no mind. That was until you heard him talk, nearly causing you to jump because of how focused you were on the safe. “You know, I haven’t seen Javier that angry in years. He used to be filled with hate and anger toward the world, but it died down as the years passed.”

You merely hummed along, not fully paying attention to his words. Another click hit your ears, and you took a mental note of the next number. 28. Arthur continued. “I’m still surprised he’s still callin’ you that, like you don’t know what it means.”

Your curious eyes flicked to him, and realization dawned on his face. He laughed with an almost childish grin. “You don’t know what it means, do ya’?”

You sighed. “No, ‘cause everytime I ask, no one tells me! Especially you! Now, hush. I’m tryin’ to concentrate.” Arthur left you alone then, and you continued to turn the dial slowly to the left, waiting to find the final digit for the safe.

Finally, the third click rang throughout the room, the final digit being 4. The safe door creaked open, exposing its contents to you and Arthur. Inside contained a stack of papers, which you assumed to be bonds, a few clips of cash, and a small gold ingot. With a satisfactory smile, you gestured for Arthur to bring you your clutch, which he did. You pulled the gloves out, quickly slipping them back on even though they were wet. All paper items went into the bag (and you were sure to make sure the blade did not wreck them), and you took the ingot into your own hands. It always caught you off guard, how heavy gold ingots actually were.

You stood up, heading over to the dresser and grabbing Javier’s knife while handing Arthur the gold ingot, which he stashed away. Where, you weren’t quite sure, but it disappeared from sight. You had just enough room to place the knife in your bag, the thing barely closing before you tucked it under your arm. You left the soiled handkerchief on the dresser, and you started to move towards the door before Arthur’s voice stopped you. “He’s callin’ you ‘his love’.”

“What?”

“Mi amor,” Arthur’s Spanish wasn’t even comparable to Javier’s, but it was understandable. “It translates to ‘my love’.”

You were stunned, blinking back at him with wide eyes. “You’re kiddin’ me.” Arthur shook his head. “This entire time he’s been callin’ me-” you cut yourself off, rubbing a hand down your face, being careful to not smudge the makeup completely. “So you mean to tell me, that instead of me livin’ in constant doubt about how he felt about me, I could’ve known, but you and everyone back at camp refused to tell me?”

Arthur rubbed nervously at the back of his neck, guilt once again eating away at him. He didn’t respond, so you laughed bitterly. “Now I’m startin’ to regret that I didn’t end up hurtin’ you earlier.” Huffing angrily, you didn’t spare either Arthur or the man tied up on the bed a glance, quickly reaching the door in angry strides. “C’mon. I wanna leave this damn place.”

Arthur didn’t need to be told twice, following behind you as you marched down the hallway and back down the stairs. It was easy to slip away from the party, everyone was too drunk or too busy in conversation to notice. The silence outside was a complete shock to your system, your ears ringing loudly as you took a deep breath.

Just like he said, Javier was waiting beside the carriage, eyes following you as you descended the stairs. It melted any cold from the night, and like in the party, you felt that need for more grow inside you. You felt Arthur move behind you, cutting across the front lawn to reach his horse. As you reached the carriage, Bill’s voice broke the silence. “You get the whiskey?”

Shit. “No, I’m sorry. Things went bad in there.”

Bill sighed, disappointed, but he didn’t speak further. “Here,” you dug out one of the clips of money, practically having to toss it at him, “it ain’t whiskey, but it’s just as good in my opinion.”

The corners of his mouth tugged up, and you knew that he accepted your new gift, tucking it away into his jacket pocket. Javier uncrossed his arms once you were within reach, once again helping you into the carriage. You could practically feel the tension from him, his entire body tightly coiled as you settled into your seat.

Again, you expected to follow in behind you, but he was quickly shutting the door. You stopped it with your hand, and he stopped immediately. “You’re not comin’ in?” Your voice was dispirited, and Javier frowned as he shook his head once.

“You don’t want-”

“Don’t tell me what I want, Javier.” You cut him off, shocking yourself with your directness. “Get in here.”

Wordlessly, he obeyed, sitting across from you again. It looked like he had a thousand things to say, but he remained silent. Bill almost immediately took off, but you better prepared than last time, managing to not lurch forward. To say the air between the two of you was awkward would be an understatement, and you found yourself looking out the window, watching the streetlights as you passed them.

After about a minute of silence, you saw Javier shift out of the corner of your eye, so you refocused your attention on him. “I’m sorry,” you heard him murmur, barely audible over the hoofs of the horses and the sound of the wheels rolling over the cobblestone.

“Javier, you couldn’t have known that would happen,” you sighed, wanting nothing more than to take his hand in yours. “And I knew that things could go bad tonight.”

“It’s not that. Well, I am sorry about that, I’m not sayin’ I’m not, but-” he paused for a moment, recollecting his thoughts. “I’m sorry about the way I acted. And for talking like you weren’t right there. And for implying that you couldn’t protect yourself. I’m sorry, for all of it.”

“I’m not the one you should be apoligzin’ to,” you laughed lightly, and you felt successful when you saw a light smile on Javier. “And emotions were high tonight, and even the best of us snap sometimes. And you weren’t completely wrong about the dress,” you adjusted the bodice of said dress, trying and failing to gain more room to move. “But, thank you. It… it means a lot.”

A lot of the tension dissipated from Javier as you accepted his apology, leaning back against the back of his seat finally. He had taken off his jacket while he was gone, leaving him only in his vest, necktie and undershirt, and the sleeves had been rolled up, hiding the splotches of blood from view. Even in the dim light, you were able to clearly see the definition of his forearms flexing against the shirt, even more so when he crossed his arms against his chest.

Thick veins traveled down his hands and arms, and you couldn’t stop the thoughts of what those hands might be able to do to you from running through your head. It surprised you, having these thoughts. If you had had these thoughts days, or even hours ago, your mind would be spiraling into a panic. Instead, you found your mind spiraling into lustful thoughts, and you found yourself having to look away, cheeks growing warm.

Javier didn’t seem to notice your staring, too deep in thought to do so. After a few moments of silence, he finally spoke again. “Why didn’t you have me kill him?” Anger flashed in his eyes at the thought of the other man, but he kept in check.

You still weren’t quite sure, and you voiced that to Javier. “I think I didn’t want you to because I was having a good night, and watching someone die kinda ruins that.” If your words were blunt, Javier didn’t seem to care.

“A ‘good’ night?” Javier looked at you like you’d grown a second head. “Mi amor, if that’s your idea of a ‘good’ night then…” he trailed off.

Now knowing what he was saying, you felt your heart skip a beat. You should’ve realized a long time ago what it meant, you realized. His voice was always filled with adoration when he said it, and a bashful yet cocky smirk would follow. “Besides the last twenty minutes,” you laughed. “I was having a good night because I was with you, my love.” It felt like a confession, and you kept your voice low, but you were sure to add extra emphasis on the final two words.

Javier’s eyes widened, forearms flexing as he readjusted his crossed arm. “Finally figured it out, then?” He teased, but there was an underlying panic in his voice, not aware if you liked it or not.

You nodded, diverting your gaze as you prepared for your next question. “Do you mean it?” Your voice was small, vulnerable.

Javier responded with a confused noise. Shifting nervously, your hands felt clammy under the gloves. “Do you mean it when you call me ‘my love’? ‘Cause I know you like me, and that’s great… but I want to know.” Do you love me? You breathed shakily. Why was this so hard?

Silence fell over the carriage, and you dared to look back at the man across from you. His arms now rested on his elbow, and when he noticed your attention was back on him he smiled, extending a hand for you to grab. When you did, he covered it with his other, kissing the back of it before doing so. You almost wished at that point that you hadn’t put your gloves back on, wanting to feel his lips against your skin.

“I said I would never lie to you, and I mean it. I never said anything to you that I didn’t believe.” He shifted closer to you, your knees pressing against each other. “I mean it, every single time. I…” It would’ve been funny, in any other context, to see Javier at a loss for words. “I know there are thousands of different ways I could say this, but I can’t remember a single one. It’s like my brain just turns off whenever I’m near you,” he chuckled.

Your heart was hammering so loudly in your chest that you were sure Javier could hear it. It burned where your hands were connected, but it was a delicious pain, one that you never wanted to be rid of. It was reassuring to know that you weren’t the only one who got nervous around the other, then.

“So, I guess I’ll keep it simple, then. I love you, and, if you’ll have me, I want… you. I want to be by your side, through the good and the bad. I want to wake up by your side, your voice the first thing I hear every morning. I want to know your thoughts, your fears, your desires.” He sighed, smiling. “I, well, I guess all that was to say I mean it.”

You expected to feel a sense of dread, some sort of anxiety over your changing relationship, and what that could possibly lead to, but you found none. Before you could even register what you were doing, you were leaning into him, pressing a light kiss against his cheek. It wasn’t long, lips barely there for even a second before you were leaning away. You gasped slightly when you saw the red mark left there by you; apparently you still had more makeup on than you thought. Between curses and apologies, you began to wipe it away with your cloth covered thumb, which seemed to just smear it around.

A light tug at your hand had you stopping, your name being said softly focusing your attention back on to the man. He didn’t seem to mind that your lipstick was now on his face, and his eyes were filled with unbridled love as they danced across your face, before finally settling on your lips, then back up into your eyes. His hand was no longer holding yours, instead it was trailing up your arm, up your neck, finding purchase on the side of your face, holding you with such reverence that it almost brought tears to your eyes.

His eyes went back down to your lips, a soft plea in his gaze. “Let me kiss you,” Javier asked, restraint pulling his voice down an octave. Slowly, you brought your hand up, brushing away a few strands of hair that had been pulled from the tie. His eyes closed at your touch, a pleased noise escaping his mouth. Those same eyes opened when he felt you nod, and you hadn’t realized how easy it was to get lost in them until this moment.

He closed the distance between the two of you, thumb brushing your cheek as your lips finally connected. It felt like everything finally clicked into place, like the final piece of a puzzle. Everything felt right, and you sighed happily against his mouth, resting your hands on his thighs.

It was a short kiss, merely testing the waters, with Javier pulling away first. He rested his head against yours, simply savoring the moment. A quiet, giddy giggle left you, causing Javier to raise a brow. “It’s nothin’… I’m just happy.” It was almost childish, the reason you were really giggling, but who wouldn’t be happy after their first kiss.

“Good,” he murmured, before a concerned look crossed his face.

“What?” You asked, immediately thinking the worst.

“It’s your lipstick.” The thumb that was on your cheek shifted to your lips, running against the lower one.

“What about it?” You had no idea where he was going with this.

“It’s not nearly wrecked enough,” he lamented, and you felt his thumb pull your lip slightly, causing the rouge to smear.

“Are you gonna fix it, then?” You challenged, slowly running your hands slowly up and down his thighs. You’re not sure where this sudden burst of confidence was coming from, but you weren’t complaining. All you knew is that you wanted his mouth on yours again.

“Gladly,” Javier purred, pulling your face to him as he kissed you again. Instead of simply holding his lips to yours, you felt him begin to move this time. It was messy and passionate and it had your head spinning. Gripping on to his legs tighter, you were able to ground yourself. That was until you felt his tongue run against your bottom lip.

You gasped, pulling away an inch to give yourself a moment to breathe, all the foreign sensations causing you to become breathless. Javier, with some visible restraint, didn’t chase after you, giving you a moment to collect yourself. It was at that point that you felt that you almost had a death grip on the man’s legs, and you let go with a soft apology.

He paid it no mind, and you felt his hold on your face lax a bit. “You’ve never kissed before, have you?” He wasn’t anywhere close to being rude about it, but the question still had your blood running cold.

Embarrassed, you felt your face flush even more. You tried to pull away, but he kept you close. You shook your head, not wanting to admit it out loud. “Was it that obvious?” You mumbled, quite upset. Javier went to respond, and you braced yourself for the words that your brain trained you to expect.

What you weren’t expecting was him to be smiling at you, thumb rubbing reassuringly on your cheek again. “I only noticed because you seemed less confident,” Javier explained, with no hint of judgment in his voice. “I guess we need to practice some more, then,” he added with a playful grin.

“I love you,” you whispered, before your hands were grabbing both sides of his face and smashing his lips against yours, both of you smiling into the kiss. Any remnant of anxiety about him vanished as you kissed him, feeling more relaxed than you’ve felt in a while. You pulled him toward you as you sat back in your seat, ignoring the way that the bodice of your dress pressed uncomfortably into your skin. You couldn't be bothered to feel it; all that your senses could feel was him.

He followed as you brought him close, getting on his knees on the carriage floor as he kept his lips locked on yours. Even despite being on the ground, his face was still relatively level with yours, if only a few inches lower. You felt him settle between your legs, at least as best he could with your skirt, hands resting on your hips.

Unlike the other two kisses before, this one had a secondary intent behind it, and you felt that fire in your core return, arousal making you dizzy. You wanted more, and you’re sure that Javier was more than eager to give it to you. One of the hands that grasped his face moved behind him, discarding your gloves to somewhere in the carriage before quickly undoing the tie that held his dark hair in place, causing it to fall around his head. Greedily you ran your fingers through it, a pleased groan felt on Javier’s lips as you combed it.

A nip from him had you gasping, offering him an opportunity to sneak his tongue into your mouth. The act surprised you, inadvertently causing you to grasp his hair, pulling the strands into a fist. You felt him moan in response, the hands on your hips squeezing tighter, but he didn’t move them. Pulling him impossibly closer, you tried your best to keep up with the quick movements of his mouth, moving your lips in tandem with his. You were always a quick learner, anyway.

An aggressive jolt from the carriage forced the two of you to separate, gasps and pants filling the silence. Moonlight filtered in, and you were able to see Javier clearly now. You realized you had never seen him with his hair down before, and beautiful wasn’t even close to the right word to describe him. He looked ethereal, and he was all yours, making your heart thrum happily in your chest.

“You should have your hair down more,” was all you said, smoothing your hand over it. It was soft, well taken care of, and you wanted to keep your hands in it forever.

“Whatever my girl wants,” he responded, pure bliss on his face. You didn’t even bother to hide the happy noise that left you when you heard him call you his girl.

Glancing down at his lips, you saw they were practically the same color as yours now, smeared messily across the lower half of his face. You’re sure you looked just as bad, and you registered that it would be hard to hide what the two of you got up to from the rest of camp. But you found that you didn’t care that much.

An image flashed in your head as you watched him; his exposed chest covered in your kiss marks, from his neck to his hips, a pretty ring of red rouge around his cock. The thought had you subconsciously rubbing your thighs together, trying to ease the growing tension that was starting to become unbearable, but it was hard to do when there was someone between them.

Javier honed in on the movement immediately, working at his bottom lip as he stared up at you with blown out eyes. “More?” He asked, the word sounding breathy.

You nodded, carding your fingers back through his hair to pull him back to you. After meeting you for a quick kiss, you felt him travel down your jaw, peppering kisses along as he did so. You laughed lightly when you felt him move to your neck, the soft prickle of his facial hair tickling you, and he smiled against your skin.

The hands of your hips began to explore now, one rising up your front, touching lightly over the bodice, causing you to shiver. His other hand traveled downward, down your thigh and past your knee, until it was wrapping around your calf. He wrapped your stocking covered leg around his back, causing your shoe to fall off in the process, hitting the floor with a dull noise.

Satisfied, the hand on your leg moved to join the other, stopping once he reached the underside of your breasts. Instead of running his hands over the mounds, he bypassed them completely, running his hands across your shoulders delicately. For the first time, his bare hands were on your skin, and it was everything you’d ever wanted. They were deliciously rough, years of hard living making them so, and a number of calluses adorning the tips from playing stringed instruments, but they also felt like silk, rolling across your body like water. It caused another shiver to wrack your body, and he chuckled, vibrations falling from his chest into yours.

“You’re so responsive,” he noted, his normally smooth voice gravelly. His lips traveled further down your neck, showering your lower neck and collarbones with apt attention. “No one’s touched you like this before, no?” He stated rather than asked, and your silence was a more than adequate answer. “What a shame. They don’t know what they’ve missed.”

“I don’t care,” you said with sheer honesty. “Damn everyone else. I only want your hands on me.”

You felt him pull at the back of your head, pulling you into a searing kiss before pulling away slightly, face mere inches from yours. “Let me make you feel good.” Curious, you gave an inquisitive noise, playing with his hair as you did so. He was already making you feel good, so you weren’t quite sure what he was trying to say.

He let out a small chuckle at your confused expression, pressing a light kiss to the tip of your nose, which was an innocently sweet gesture. His next words were less than innocent, another wave of arousal crashing through you as he spoke. “Let me taste you. I need to feel you fall apart on my mouth.”

You’d be lying if you said that his filthy words weren’t getting you incredibly turned on, but a deep feeling of embarrassment overtook you, and you would’ve turned your head away if you could, but you were forced to just avert your gaze.

“Don’t go getting shy on me now, mi amor,” Javier teased, attempting to get your eyes back on him. “It takes more than a few words to get my girl nervous, hm?”

Laughing mostly at yourself, you finally looked into his eyes, a calming smile greeting you. “So, what say you? Are you going to let me eat you out?” He said it so nonchalantly, like it wasn’t completely turning you into a mess. Forcing back the shame, you nodded, not trusting your voice. Javier wasn’t satisfied, and with a disapproving noise he placed another kiss on your nose, causing you to laugh lightly. “Use your words.”

Javier was giving you a second chance to change your mind, you realized, not wanting you to do something that you would regret. It was a nice gesture, but what he didn’t know was that you made up your mind hours ago; you needed him so badly that it almost hurt. “Please,” you responded, your mouth was moving faster than your brain.

He didn’t respond, smiling gratefully at you, like you just offered him something luxurious. One final kiss met your lips before he was descending your body, trailing back over where his lips had been moments prior. One of your hands tangled in his hair when you felt him ghost his lips across the top of your breasts, grinning when he felt the goosebumps form. He didn’t stay there long, a single goal on his mind as he descended further down.

When he no longer had exposed skin to kiss, he rested his head by your knees, staring up at you adoringly as his hands continued to travel down. In the back of your mind, you remembered hearing stories from the girls at camp about lovers they had, how they treated going down on a woman like a chore, or how some just outright refused to do. The hungry glint in his eye and the almost desperate touch of his hand told you that you didn’t have to worry about that.

When he reached your hips, he pulled you forward, forcing you to lean back further in order for your back to reach the back of your seat. If you barely had any airflow then, you had none now, a sharp pain growing in your lungs as you shifted around, trying to get comfortable. Javier quickly noticed this, a concerned frown pulling at his lips. “Dress,” you gasped out, and he quickly got to work unworking the bow and laces that held the corset bodice tight, a pleased sigh leaving you as you felt it loosen its grip on your body. He didn’t undo it completely, the garment still on well enough to keep your body from being exposed, but it was enough that you could get more comfortable.

You didn’t even get to mutter out a ‘thank you’ before he was getting back to it, hands pulling apart your thighs. Your skirt had bunched up when he had pulled your leg around his back, giving him enough room to sneak his head between your spread legs. Your skirt still covered the entirety of his head, only peeks of hair visible to you.

Warm breath caressed your sensitive inner thigh, and you fought the urge to wrap them around his face. Featherlight kisses were felt next, small jolts rocking through you with each touch, increasing in intensity as he reached your aching center. He tugged at the waistband at your undergarments, having you lift your hips slightly so he could peel them away. Pulling them all the way off, he set them somewhere on the seat behind him.

Your hips bucked when you felt him press a kiss to your exposed cunt, humming appreciatively when he felt your arousal, which had no doubt soaked through to your undergarments. “You’re this wet from kissing?” He asked, mostly to himself, and it was barely audible under your heavy clothing, but you felt the need to defend your dignity.

“It wasn’t just the kissin’,” you managed to get out, hips bucking again when he yet again teased you with his mouth. You felt one of his arms sneak out from under your skirt, broad forearm settling across your waist to keep you in place. “Watchin’ you threaten him…”

You didn’t have to see him to know he had a cocky grin on his face. “That got you all bothered?” He asked, bewilderment and desire both lacing his question. Warm air hit you as he talked, causing you to squirm anticipatorily in your seat.“You’re a dirty little thing, aren’t you?”

“Only for you.”

You felt more than heard the responding growl, his grip tightening on your waist as he ran his tongue through your folds, almost immediately going back through for a second, a third, a fourth time. Rolling your head back, pleased noises tumbled from your lips, your other leg almost immediately joining your other around his back. You felt him mutter something, and the broad swipes of his tongue turned to short precise licks, targeting your clit with precise movements.

The change in sensations had you crying out, hands scarbling at his arm as you tried to find something to hold on to. He chuckled lowly, the vibrations shooting straight to your core. “As much as I’d love to hear you, we don’t want anyone finding out what’s going on in here, do we?” You both knew damn well that nothing could be heard outside the carriage, but the idea of having to keep quiet to prevent your friends from knowing turned you on more than it should. Your body must’ve reacted some way, and you heard him groan appreciatively. “You are dirty.” He sounded a million miles away, but it still felt like his mouth was pressed to your ear.

Now attempting to muffle yourself, you bit at your lips, most likely drawing blood. His mouth worked at you so much better than you could’ve imagined, your fingers nothing compared to this. Nothing you had ever done to please yourself had felt this good; now that you had a taste of what someone else could do to you, you never wanted to go back.

A particularly rough flick of his tongue had you whining, pressing a hand on your mouth to stifle your cries. He brought out every drop of pleasure from your body with such ease, like it was second nature. You felt that familiar pressure begin to form in your abdomen, one that normally took you so much longer to reach yourself. He was almost too good at this, playing your body like it was his guitar, his talented mouth pulling noises from you like he was strumming his fingers across the strings.

All thoughts left your mind when you felt his lips latch around your clit, sucking the toying with the sensitive nerves. A plethora of exclamations tumble from your lips, the most frequent one being his name. It seemed to spur him on even more, and you felt his free hand trail up your thigh, resting at the inner junction of your leg and hip. His fingers rubbed soothingly at the sensitive flesh as he continued his ministrations with his tongue. “Javi…” your voice was too breathless to complete his name, and you tried your best to warn him of your upcoming release, which was coming faster than you knew how to process.

He didn’t verbally respond. Instead, you felt him adjust your lower body so that your hips were almost level with his face, your back hardly able to rest against your seat. The new angle made it hard to keep your legs wrapped around his lower back, so you let them go limp, no longer on the man. Javier didn’t seem to like this, almost immediately taking your legs and resting them on his shoulders, which was much more comfortable than the two previous positions. He hadn’t detached himself during the entire readjustment process, tongue and lips still expertly bringing you closer to your release.

The hand at your thigh moved inward, almost so slowly that you barely registered it. You moaned, slightly startled, when you felt those broad fingers spread you apart, tongue delving between them before almost immediately returning its attention to your clit.

You felt him move his face downward, the new angle allowing him to do so with ease, his fingers following. Feeling them tease around your entrance, and you half-braced yourself for the intrusion you were sure was bound to happen with his fingers. Instead, you felt them move to where his tongue had been, rubbing them against you with the perfect amount of pressure and speed that had you crying out. His tongue instead teased around your entrance, pushing in a tiny bit before retracting, slowly easing you to take his tongue.

The pressure in you increased tenfold as he slowly started to fuck you with his tongue, dexterous fingers adding to the ecstasy your body was feeling. “Javier, I’m close,” you managed to murmur out, before crying out again, barely able to muffle yourself this time. Your fingers dug into the muscle of his arm, most likely leaving crescent shaped indents from your nails.

With his mouth quite preoccupied, the most he could do was groan something in response. Your muffled cries of his name turned to small gasps as pants, teetering closer and closer to reaching your peak. As best you could, you carded your fingers through the hand that held you down, desperately needing something to hold as you came. Without missing a beat, he flipped his hand so that his forearm still locked your hips down, but it gave you his hand to hold, your fingers shaky as you gripped his.

With a final cry of his name, your lips bruising from the way you clamped down on it, you felt your release wash over you. Your thighs clamped around his head, but he didn’t seem to mind, fingers and tongue not stopping as he drew out every bit of pleasure from your orgasm. Head thumping against the wall of the carriage, you felt your hips buck slightly with each jolt that passed through your body, letting up in intensity as the aftershocks wore off.

Eventually, Javier let up, a cold shiver wracking your body at the lack of his heat. Pulling back your skirt away from his face, the two of you sat in silence for a second, both processing what the hell just happened. A chuckle spilled from you, a light smile on your face that Javier mirrored. He looked as disheveled as you felt, hair tousled and completely out of place. He only had a few light remnants of your lipstick left, his lower face instead was now covered in your arousal, it glistening in the pale moonlight. A proud smirk greeted you as he realized what you were looking at, and you wiped it away as best you could, resting your hand on the side of his face when you were done. You’re sure you looked like a mess as well, but Javier looked at you like you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

Pulling him back up to your face level, you smashed your lips against his, and you felt his tongue run against the seam of your lips. Opening your lips to let him in, you let out a groan when you were able to taste yourself, the filthiness of it all causing a fresh wave of arousal to wash over you. Running your free hand down his chest, you toyed with his belt, a slight desperation in your touch as you unbuckle his belt.

Not even bothering to get it all the way off, you let it hang open, and you fiddled with the zipper, opening it after some difficulty. Brushing your fingers against his cock beneath his underwear, which had become deliciously hard, and you felt him shudder, breaking the kiss to exhale a breathy noise. “Mi amor.” It sounded like a mix of a plea and a warning.

“Sit,” you whispered, yet it held no room for argument.

After a second’s pause, Javier complied, and you could tell he expected you to follow him with. You would’ve found it funny, the way he let out a shocked moan, when you sunk to your knees, but you only had one thing on your mind.

Framing your knees on each side of his waist, he moved up the skirts to allow you enough room to straddle his lap. You felt his hands move from your skirts to your waist, and his cock pressed right up against your exposed center. You felt him begin to rut his hips the tiniest amount, running his cock through your folds. It was at that point that reality kind of hit you, and you felt that familiar feeling of anxiety begin to trouble your mind, but you pushed it away.

One of his hands sneaked between your bodies, and you felt him hold himself upright. “Are you ready?” You heard him ask, the hand remaining on your waist squeezing reassuringly. You nodded, saying a hushed yes as you did so.

Rising up onto your knees, you adjusted yourself so that the tip nudged your entrance. Both of you let out similar noises as you began to sink down onto him, and you rested your head against his neck. It was less painful than you thought it would be. Sure, the stretch of your muscles as they accommodated the intrusion was unpleasant, but it wasn’t downright painful. “Take it slow,” you heard him say through a clenched jaw.

Holding his shoulders for support, you eased yourself down inch by inch, your moans becoming more frequent as you felt him deeper and deeper inside you. He was already far deeper than you’d ever been able to go with your fingers, and you weren’t even close to having your hips flush with his.

Javier muttered praises to you, moving his hand from between the two of you to rub your lower back. “You’re doing so good,” you heard him say, lips pressing against the side of your head. “Just a little more.”

The slight discomfort you were feeling, the stretch of muscles causing a dull throbbing to spread across your abdomen, was quickly turning into a pleasurable feeling. Mumbling something out in response, you heard him chuckle softly, affectionately pressing another kiss to your head.

A few more moments passed, your legs beginning to shake from the exertion of holding yourself up. Relief flooded your body when you felt his hips meet yours, and you let yourself relax on his lap now that he was fully sheathed in you. “Just like that, mi amor. You- fuck, you feel so good,” you heard Javier pant, voice raspy. Raising your head from his neck, you pulled him into a messy kiss as you let yourself get used to the feeling of him inside you.

Both of you broke the kiss simultaneously when you began to move, lifting yourself off his cock before sinking back down. It was slow, and the drag of him across your walls felt so incredible that you felt your head rolling back. A gentle hand brought it back. “I want to see you,” was all Javier said. You were sure to keep your head still as you repeated the action again, slightly faster than the last.

Bitting again at your lip to keep yourself quiet, you were quickly able to fall into a rhythm, moving yourself down his length with increasing speed. Pleasure bloomed in your cunt, and you felt yourself clench around him with another drag. Javier choked our name, which sounded hotter than you thought it would be, and your body reacted accordingly. He moaned out your name again, smirking when your body reacted the same way. “Does my girl like that? Does she like hearing me cry out her name?” It was a rhetorical question, but you still found yourself nodding.

Your legs were beginning to hurt, but you pushed on, the start of a new orgasm beginning to create itself. You felt Javier's eyes on your face, enraptured by the expressions on it. In any other circumstance, you would’ve found his close examination of you nerve wracking, but right now it was adding fuel to the fire growing in you.

After a few more moments, your legs were really starting to hurt, barely able to lift yourself again. “Javier, I…”

“Do you want me to take over?”

When you nodded, you felt his hands secure themselves on your waist. “You did so good, mi amor,” you heard him praise, and you felt him slowly begin to lift you, fingers digging into your skin. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, before he was bringing you back down.

It took no time at all for him to return to the pace you had set, lifting you up and down like you weighed nothing. You moaned out his name, your head almost rolling back again, but you caught yourself. His hips began to snap up every time he pulled you down, somehow reaching even deeper than before, and the added pleasure was bringing you right to the edge of your release. “I’m gonna-” another snap of your hips cut you off, an unitelliagble noise replacing your words.

“Me too.” Javier’s voice sounded thoroughly wrecked. “Where do you want me?”

It took a second for you to realize what he was asking, and if your brain wasn’t so filled with lust, your answer would’ve been completely different from the one you gave him. “Inside,” you answered, and you felt him falter completely.

“Fuck, amor,” Javier began thrusting into you with reckless abandon, and in the back of your mind you prayed that Bill would not be able to feel it. The heightened speed had you reaching your end faster than you expected, and with a quite loud cry of his name you came, walls fluttering around him. Javier wasn’t too far behind, and with one final thrust he spilled into you, warmth flooding you.

Sagging against Javier, the two of you sat in silence for a few moments, basking in the afterglow. He no longer held on to your waist, trailing his fingers lightly over your back. After pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, you felt him sigh. “As much as I’d love to keep you like this, we are almost back.”

Glancing out one of the windows, you saw that Javier was right, familiar scenery rushing past your eyes. Not bothering to hide the disappointment on your face, you slowly lifted yourself off him for a final time, barely able to do so because your legs were jelly. You made a small whining noise when you felt his release spill from you, and if you weren’t so focused on trying to make it back to your seat without falling then you would’ve seen the way Javier’s eyes darkened hungrily.

You were barely in your seat before he was back on you, having tucked himself back away into his pants, peppering many kisses across your lips and jaw until you were a giggling mess. Wrapping your arms around his head and shoulders, you pulled him into a deep hug, pressing your own lips on top of his head, a happy smile on your face. Content, he sighed deeply, even more so when you started rubbing your fingers across his scalp.

With a regretful smile, Javier pulled away, and he slowly began to redress you. Starting with your undergarments, which quickly became soaked with his spend. Your stockings were put back on next, your shoes quickly following behind. The act of Javier redressing you almost left more intimate than what you two had just done, and you felt your heart thump erratically in your chest at the reverence of it all.

Finally, you watched him sit upright on his knees, bringing himself level to you again. With one of his thumbs, you felt him wipe away the rouge that had smudged across your lips, another proud smile gracing him.

“Did you fix it?” You teased, referencing back to a few moments ago, your voice hoarse and scratchy.

“I think so. Though we can always try again later.” You felt another pass of his thumb under your bottom lip.

You rolled your eyes with a smile. “You’re insatiable, you know that?”

His hand stilled. “Can you blame me?”

You didn’t respond, and you felt him continue to clean you up.

When he deemed it done, you felt his thumb rest on your lips, brushing over the plump skin, not making a move to leave just yet. His eyes followed the movements of the digit, widening when you took it into your mouth. Bobbing your head once, you worked it between your lips, releasing it with a pop. Darkened eyes bore in you. “You’re making it quite hard to stop right here, mi amor.” You chose to not laugh at the innuendo. “That’s the point.”

He chuckled, which sounded more like a pained exhale through his nose, before removing his hand away from you. He moved back into his seat, lounging with a content expression, and you wanted nothing more than to climb back into his lap. Noticing your staring, you watched him spread his legs, providing you with an unobscured view of the way he was already getting hard again

Your hungry eyes traveled across his lower body, which Javier found highly entertaining, that cocky smirk returning. “And you say I’m insatiable,” he joked, hints of his own desire creeping into his voice.

Before you could respond, the carriage coming to a sudden halt pulled you two from the little bubble you had created. A glance out the surprisingly not fogged window confirmed that you had arrived back at camp, a brightly lit campfire the only thing clearly visible in the dark night. Sighing, you grabbed the last of your belongings, tucking the clutch back under your arm and stuffing your gloves in your other hand, not bothering to put them back on. You watched as Javier quickly fixed up his hair, smoothing down the strands that were sticking up.

In typical fashion, he left first, helping you out with a hand, the same one that had just pulled one of the two . That fact had you hesitating for half-a-second before grabbing it, and if Javier noticed, he didn’t say anything, but he smirked at you knowingly. Cold air immediately cooled your overheated skin, goosebumps forming where sweat had been. You heard a soft thump on the ground as Bill hopped down from the driver’s seat, nodding at the both of you before retiring to his tent, unaware of what had transpired.

Arthur pulled into camp not a few seconds later, having trailed behind the carriage the entire time, following behind the two of you as you headed over to Dutch once he hopped off his horse. Arthur didn’t say anything, not quite knowing how Javier would react, and he kept his distance. When Javier rested his hand on your back, leading you toward Dutch’s tent, you could feel his stare, and you didn’t have to turn to know that he had a shit-eating grin on.

You were grateful for the touch on your back, not only because you wanted it, but because it also kept you steady, legs still partially jelly as you hobbled over. If anyone asked, you could just blame it on the shoes.

Dutch greeted you and the two other men warmly, sitting at a table with Hosea and Micah, a bottle of whiskey in his hand. You three said your own greetings, Arthur moving to slide into the extra open seat at the table. Javier stayed behind you, hand not leaving your body, as you leaned back into him.

“So, I’m gonna assume that because you’re all here in one piece that it went well,” Dutch began, going straight into business.

You heard Javier begin to explain to Dutch that it didn’t, and that he couldn't get his hands on the bond, but you cut him off by digging into your clutch, pulling out the the stacks of paper you’d pulled from the safe, along with a few clips of money, keeping one for yourself and Javier. You dropped them on the center of the table along with the gloves, a pleased whistle leaving Dutched as he eyed it, and you tucked the bag away. You’d give Javier his knife back later. “There was also a gold bar, which Arthur had.”

The cowboy nodded, pulling it from a satchel, and you realized that was how he had hidden it before. How he got into the party, you’d never know. Sliding across the table to Dutch, he weighed it in his hands, before passing it to Hosea who examined it more closely. You could feel the shock from Javier, gratitude and curiosity in his eyes as he watched you.

Micah began to converse with Hosea about the gold, Hosea only answering in short, clipped sentences. Dutch and Arthur were already deep into conversation, Dutch giving you no more than a half-hearted thanks before seemingly dismissing you and Javier. Your skin felt sticky and your undergarments were growing more and more uncomfortable, and you wanted nothing more than to leave. Javier began to leave, but you stayed put, steeling yourself. You had one last thing you needed to say.

“Dutch,” you kept your voice neutral, and he regarded you with a hum, still not turning away from Arthur. “Don’t you ever send me on a job like that again.” You tried to not word it like a threat, but it still came out as one.

Immediately, all conversation halted, clear shock written across all the men’s faces. The odd chair creaked as Dutch turned to face you now, his expression unreadable. Never, during the entire time you’d been with the gang, had you ever talked back to Dutch in any sort of manner, and it caught everyone off guard, including yourself. Heart thudding anxiously, you awaited a response from the leader, unable to tell if you had just pissed him off. You watched Arthur’s eyes flick between Dutch and you, also unsure of where this was heading. Hosea seemed to be the only one not worried, and you swore you saw the older outlaw smirk in the low light.

“And why’s that?” Micah interjected, but you ignored him, biting back the anger that threatened to overtake you. Deep breaths, now.

After a few beats of tense silence, Dutch finally responded. “Noted,” was all he said, nodding as he spoke. A sound of protest left Micah, but Dutch disregarded it. “You did well tonight.”

Nodding, you muttered a quick goodnight, before quickly getting the hell away from the table before the calmness dissipated. Javier followed not far behind, no longer in reach to touch you, and he laughed so lightly that you barely heard it. Turning your shoulder, you questioned him with a look.

“You’re incredible, you know that?”

“Oh, hush,” you waved him away, ignoring the flush in your cheeks at his compliment.

“I mean it!” Javier laughed, moving closer to that he was able to stop you with a gentle tug of your waist. You realized that you had walked back to the edge of camp, near where the carriage was parked at the entrance. The two of you were relatively shrouded in the dark, trees helping to block you from the camp. A few people beside the men at the table still lingered around camp, but they were too preoccupied with what they were doing to notice you and Javier.

“There I was, having completely disregarded the whole job, and you just went along and did it yourself. And you know I normally wouldn’t condone you talking to Dutch like that,” Javier pulled you in close by your hips, his own pressed against your backside, “I would be a liar if I said I didn’t find you incredibly hot asserting yourself like that.” He nipped at your ear, his facial hair causing you to giggle. It turned into a moan when you ground yourself against him, feeling the still noticeable bulge there. No wonder he chose to stay close behind you as you talked with Dutch.

You went to tease him about it, but were promptly cut off when you felt him press himself into you, his member protruding into you, pretty much ready to go. As Javier began to lead you away to the woods, you realized that you were not going to get a lot of sleep tonight.

You found that you didn’t care.

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #javier escuella smut #javier escuella x you #javier escuella rdr2 #javier escuella x reader #javier escuella

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bucknastysbabe · 4 months

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I can have an aegon ii crying and whining (love to see that man cry) because he knows you're going to break up with him....

I hope this is alright, thanks for the request. Xoxo

Rating: Mature

Tags: TW//Alcohol abuse, addiction, verbal and emotional abuse, alcoholic/addict Aegon, codependency, description of DTs, break-up, man tears, modern!au, sorry I projected my alcoholism on this, man tears whiny pathetic babykins

A/N: Sorry Anon if I took some liberties, I felt this as a good reason for him to be crybaby. Alcoholic projection gets me ass sometimes

“No-nononono!,” Aegon cried from behind you.

You poured the last of his bottle out of the sink. The fucker had hidden the booze in your boots. Your boots. After boldly claiming he was sober, clean, and going to meetings. Alas, here you were again, Aegon whining and begging once again. Cycle of insanity as that blue book he owned said. Fat tears leaked from his wide orbs, lips trembling, face blotchy and red.

“You lied to me!,” you barked.

He tugged at his hair, big violet eyes fixated on that precious liquid going down the drain. Aegon whimpered, “Stop. Stop it! I’m sorry, I- I- I won’t do it anymore! I hid it for an emergency!” He sobbed as you placed the now empty bottle onto the counter.

This was on and off for what felt like the entirety of the relationship. It was fun at first— party Prince Aegon Targaryen. You two would go all night. You began to grow tired of the non-stop celebration. He’d keep going, snorting in the bathroom, taking something to sleep, leaving to hang out with the ‘bros’. Always had a reason to have something in his system.

You didn’t know if he had ever cheated. It felt he cheated on you with the bottle— ‘his baby’ he so fondly referred to alcohol one time. He had to take an extra semester only to land on academic probation. You graduated and got a job, got a place with Aegon. Upon moving in you expressed your feelings about his habits, the blonde apologizing and swearing he’d be on the straight and narrow.

Your stupid simple heart thought he would change, the little oath he made would settle Aeg some. He did at first, snuggling down for movies, grandiose gifts, and dinner for two with one cup of wine. Looking back on Aegon’s behavior he was too settled— a little hazy, forgetful, coming in and out of the world. Checking his bedside drawer that night explained the situation. Bars upon bars of Xanax in a bag. Something to quell the annoyance of being a real boyfriend.

That was a big fight. You ‘broke up’ with him on the spot. Aegon immediately burst into sobs, crying and promising to do better. No more pills. You believed him, again, the fucker even charmed you back into bed. ‘Making love’, holding hands as he filled you up, promising and apologizing. Sorry sorry sorry.

It’s about all he could muster anymore with you. Sorry.

You swallowed a sob and warbled, “You keep saying you’re going to change Aegon! It never happens! Here were are again, finding your little lies all over the place. You need help! Sorry doesn’t change shit baby. I’m done, I’m done with this. Do you even think about my feelings?”

He whined in distress, walking over and dropping to his knees. You let your sick baby cry into your stomach, arms wrapped tight around you. Sighing heavily you pet his white hair, nose wrinkling at the booze coming off his skin, the sink, everywhere.

He looked up with reddened eyes, pretty lips trembling as he begged, “You’ve got to help me, please, I can’t stop. I don’t want to lose you. Don’t leave me alone, I-I’m scared.” Every part of your body wanted to believe him. The trust had been long shattered like the bottle he threw at the wall one time— smashing it in a drunken rage.

“Why can’t you just piss off and let me do my thing? Fucking ball and chain!”

Aegon whined your name some more, gripping harder. He whimpered, “You won’t leave me right? Right my love?” You looked away and wiped a tear. He clung harder, sobbing, “No, please love, puh-please, no.” Wrenching free from the grip you shook your head. He tried to grab again, you stepping backward with a hand up.

“No Aegon. You need to seek help. For yourself, not me. I’m done. You’ve hurt me enough,” softening your tone you added, “Baby, you’re very very sick. You’ll die. Make a choice.”

He looked disgustingly sad and pathetic on his knees, hands wrenching at whatever was available. Aegon’s brow furrowed as he hissed, “So you’re like the rest— just leaving me.” You sighed in pity, running a hand over your brow. This was getting harder by the second, the damn man wearing you down to a nub.

“No Aegon. You made them leave. Pushed all of us away on your pursuit for, for, whatever you’re seeking inside.”

He warbled, “Don’t say that.”

“Just go look in the mirror. Call your mother.”

You stepped out of the wretched apartment, Aegon’s wailing filling your ears. ‘Don’t leave me!’ You’d break down later. It felt like a gaping wound settled in your chest. You idly wondered if Aegon felt like that— needing to fill the pocket with anything that didn’t make the blonde feel like himself.

Aegon stared in the mirror, puking after a short gaze. He hated what stared back at him. Hated everything really. Now he had nothing to suck on to take the pain away. No baby to coddle him, his baby, who he used and abused like everything else. Aegon sniffled and wiped his mouth. Leaning on the wall in front of the toilet he dialed his mother's number. Straight to voicemail.

“Hey Mom. I need help. Like, put me somewhere help.”

He frowned at how worn down and whiny his voice sounded. Whatever. What did he have left anyway? A future? Maybe. He stared up at the ceiling, feeling the inevitable shakes begin. There might be a hidden spot up in the fake fireplace. The prince would get it when he’d start shaking enough to lose the ability to walk.

#hotd fanfic #aegon targaryen x reader #modern!aegon targaryen #modern!au #read the tw and tags #aegon ii angst #aegon ii targaryen x reader #ask answered

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thewulf · 1 year

Text

Thick and Thin Part 2 || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Request: Reader is a former police officer, but now is working at the hard deck. Her last undercover work went terribly wrong and she was hurt really bad (got captured and held in a damp and cold cellar.... See rest here

A/N: We’re pretending the aviators are at Top Gun for a few months not a few weeks! Didn’t follow the prompt completely… but it’s cute! Def more cute than angsty. Enjoy!

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Y/N

Word Count: 3,900+'

Part 1

“Are you alright?” Penny asked. Flicking your eyes up towards the sandy haired woman you gave her a faint nod.

You shot her the best smile you could muster, “I’m fine.”

“I think those glasses are clean enough Y/N. You’ve been at them for the last thirty minutes, yeah?” She took the rag from you sensing something was off. Something didn’t seem quite right with you this afternoon. Far quieter than your normally chipper and happy self.

“Sure. They were just really dirty is all. You should really have that washer checked out.” Nervously, you laughed knowing she sensed you were off. Because of course she did. Penny could read you like a damn book. Any damn book she wanted you to be.

“What’s wrong?” She asked as she watched you walk around the bar. She gently pushed you down into the barstool outside the bar.

Sighing, you knew there wasn’t a way you could get out of talking about this one, “It’s dumb Penny. Really dumb.”

She shook her head, “Can’t be dumb if it’s got you thinking so hard.”

Looking ahead you saw the group of aviators with their newest addition, Olivia, the blonde that you thought was leagues above you, “Jake’s got himself a new girlfriend.” You nodded in her direction trying not to look like you were shooting daggers right at her. You wanted to. This jealousy thing sucked.

Penny’s eyes followed your line of sight over to her regular group of aviators. Her eyes raised as she scanned over the new girl, taking her in, “How do you know she’s with Jake?” She asked hoping you wouldn’t really have an answer.

You shrugged, “Might’ve been his hand on her ass or them making out last night in the booth, something like that.” Looking away you turned your attention back to Penny.

She sighed seeing your deflated face. “Well, that’s a sign I suppose.” She nodded in agreement, “She’s just a fling honey.” Penny continued seeing the utter sadness seep through your expression.

“She’s gorgeous Penny, I don’t think…” You paused not really wanting to think about what this really meant. Did this mean he’d no longer come up and talk with you? Flirt with you? Even you had to admit that was some of the most fun you’d had working at the bar. The nights when Jake were there flew by, he made sure of it.

She shook her head not letting you respond either, “Look, I’ve known Hangman longer than you. She’s definitely just a fling. Doubt she’ll be around tomorrow.”

Penny was wrong though. She was around the next night and the night after that. When she showed up the following Friday night you were sure you were about to lose it. Your only saving grace being Bradley. He was out on a training mission for the week so when that tall brunette walked through the front door you about sang his praises right then and there. A smile crept up your cheeks as you made eye contact with the cocky son of a bitch you’d grown close to over the previous few months. God were you thrilled he’d taken a job at Top Gun.

“Bradley.” You smiled handing him a tall glass of his favorite draft, “Glad you’re home. First one’s on the house.”

“Better be.” He grinned taking it from you. He only threw his hands up in defense when he saw your bitter scowl, “I kid! Thank you, Y/N. It’s good to be back.”

You nodded, “That’s more like it.” It felt almost foreign to smile after the shitty week of hidden frown’s you’d been giving seeing your less than favorite couple walk through those doors. You hadn’t even tried to make eye contact with him. The second you saw him with her you’d turn the other direction.

Things got a little rocky the third time you saw her. She’d come up and ordered drinks for her and Jake in a not so nice manner. You replied back in a not so nice manner. She tried to get you in trouble with Penny bitching about her bartender having an attitude, but Penny shrugged it off before telling you all about it. That was the night you could feel Jake’s eyes on you, but you couldn’t look at him. Not after that. You hated making yourself look like a fool and you were sure she was painting you as a full on clown now. Why’d you have to let Bradley talk you into your feelings for this stupid boy?

“How’ve you been?” Bradley asked taking a seat in front of you. It was still early enough in the night that you weren’t too busy yet and could spare the time to chat.

You nodded wiping up the counter in front of him, “Okay. Weather’s been shitty. You picked a good week to leave.”

He leaned back taking you all the way in. He too could see right through you like Penny could. A quick glance around the bar confirmed his senses. Hangman was sitting over in the corner with a blonde girl on his lap without a care in the world. He was only gone a week and Hangman had managed this already. Bradley knew how sensitive you were about your injuries. How insure they had made you. How they made you feel like you were less than and didn’t deserve the love you really did deserve. To see Hangman sit there and almost confirm all those fears in the time he was gone pissed him off. Bradley was proud of how much progress he had made with the two idiots who didn’t seem to know what they wanted. He had managed to get you both to confess to him the true nature of either of your feelings. It perplexed him how he was now in a worse off situation than he had left the previous week.

“Who’s that?” Bradley asked leaning closer to the bar again knowing how much you probably didn’t want to be talking about it. But he knew you were trapped. Sure, you could run and serve other customers but eventually you’d have to come back and talk to him.

Rolling your eyes you snuck a quick glance at the overly touchy couple in the booth on the far side of the bar, “Olivia. A teacher or something like that.”

Bradley raised his eyebrows letting his glasses slide down his nose, “You know that’s just a distraction right?”

“Shut up Brad.” You wanted to slap him silly right then and there. You couldn’t let him talk you into getting your hopes up again. The first crash hurt enough already.

“It is! You’re not a man, so how would you know what he’s thinking?” He rattled off.

“And how would you?” You fired back, irritated with him already, “Playing the man card? Really Bradley?”

“Okay, ouch… fair.” He smirked, missing the less than friendly banter back and forth in just the week he’d been gone. He’d gotten so used to you being there that he didn’t realize how much he loved your presence until he took himself out of it.

You shrugged not knowing what to say. You’d love to believe Bradley, but you just couldn’t seem to. They’d stopped in the bar four times in seven days, it felt like he was trying to make a point to you. One that you fully understood and didn’t really want to be a part of. He was choosing her. Not you.

“Come on, he likes you!”

“He’s got a very interesting way of showing it doesn’t he?” You spat out with a little too much disgust in your voice. Even if he did like you, you were annoyed with the whole thing. What were you in? Middle school?

“It’s his way of deflecting! You should know, you’ve done it long enough.” Bradley smirked more to himself than to you. Surely you couldn’t give up on the non-existent relationship before it even started? Bradley was better than that at meddling with relationships and he knew it. Just last week he got Natasha and the girl at the bar to finally strike up a conversation. Big bad Phoenix became a chicken in front of a pretty girl.

“I’m not doing this with you right now. I’ve got people to serve anyway.” You grumbled turning away from him before he could argue. You loved the man with your whole heart, but boy was he difficult. He never backed down from an argument, certainly not when he knew he was right, which he was. Bradley decided he better knock some sense into Hangman. What he didn’t realize is that it would send the Olivia girl right up to the bar where you were.

You hadn’t realized Bradley got up. That was your own fault for not keeping tabs on the loose cannon. You only realized when you heard that familiar cough behind you. A nasally cough to grab your attention. Not even having the energy to fake a smile you mumbled out a somewhat coherent, “What can I get for you?”

“You know, he doesn’t like you. He likes me.” That irrationally squeaky voice that made you want to do questionable things spoke far too confidently for you not to consider what she was saying.

You really hadn’t the energy to deal with this right now, “What are you talking about?”

“Jake. He complains about you all the time. Your attachment issues. Getting sick all the time. You seem pathetic really.”

You wanted to frown. Betrayal coursed through you. How dare he mention that to her? It felt like you were just an object to talk about not a person underneath, “Okay. Are you ordering anything or?” Was all you could think of. You tried to remain as unbothered as you could. Although, you weren’t sure if your face was playing along or not.

“No.”

“Bye.” You rolled your eyes subtly before turning to the next guest. She took the hint retuning to Jake. You were sure she interrupted whatever conversation Bradley and Jake were having as Bradley looked flabbergasted when she climbed right back into his lap. You wanted to turn away but the sheer look of horror on Bradley’s face seemed to make it all worth it.

After serving a few patrons Bradley made his way back to where he was originally sitting, waiting patiently on you. Sliding him another draft you raised your eyebrows, waiting on whatever he had to say, “Exactly what I thought. A simple deflection. An easy one.”

“Just, drop it. Tell me about your training mission?” You really didn’t want to talk about it anymore. It’s all the two of you seemed to chat about anymore. It was exhausting you; you couldn’t imagine how Bradley felt.

The two of you chatted until it got too busy to ignore your bartending duties. You felt a pit in the bottom of your stomach when you saw the two blondes leaving together later on in the night. You felt his eyes on you continuously throughout the night. What had she said to him? If she was that brash coming up to you earlier on in the night then you could only imagine what nasty things she’s said about you to him.

It hurt more than you were mad at him for telling her about you. He had to have known you felt something for him and to do this felt like he was all but rejecting you. Once Bradley left you let yourself spiral in your head but maintain that fake ass smile as you served guests.

It didn’t get better once you got home. You continued to think about what that stupid little mousy faced girl said to you, ‘he doesn’t even like you.’ Could that really be true? Were you really that fucking annoying? Sure, the sickness was a burden, but you never tried to place it on him. Fuck. You couldn’t believe you’d let Bradley right back into your head and let him convince you that.

Sleep didn’t come easily. The stress of the simple conversation placing too much anxiety on your brain. Not sleeping well with the added stress was never a good mixture for you. When you woke the next morning you felt warm, too warm. You knew what it meant but you decided to try and nap it off. That was a mistake as you woke feeling exponentially worse.

Placing the thermometer under your tongue you frowned when you read 102.6 Degrees read across. Texting Penny that you were sick you took a quick shower before finding your way back into bed. It was amazing what the human brain could do. You let yourself get so wrapped up in those little comments that your body was straight up having a physical reaction as well. Rejecting your thoughts completely.

Frustrated you tried to sleep again. Turning your phone to silent just deciding to ignore it for the afternoon. Not like anybody would be reaching out other than Penny. She’d assume you were just sleeping anyway.

When your eyes opened again the night had taken over. Sighing you popped into the shower rinsing off all the salty sweat that was coating your body. This was the worst of it when your temperature was the highest and you felt freezing. The highest the shower could go only calmed your shivers down some more. Contemplating taking some Tylenol you decided against it, letting your body fight this one off.

Laying on the couch you found a show you liked. Letting yourself drift in and out of sleep to the quiet volume from the television. You would have likely slept there the rest of the night had there not been a knock on the front door. Deciding to ignore it you closed your eyes hoping whomever it was would go away.

But they had other plans. The persistent knocks only seemed to get louder. With a huff you shuffled your feet to the door making sure to keep the blanket wrapped around you. It was far too cold out in the open air to be walking around without one.

Taking a look through the peep hole in the door you frowned seeing Jake on the other side. What in the hell did he want?

“Y/N, open up. I can literally hear you. Right there.”

Damn, were you really breathing that loud? Not really having the option you unlocked the dead bolt opening the door seeing the handsome man before you. He was dressed down, not in any Navy Uniform. You had to admit he looked damn good no matter what he was in. Hot as a pilot and maybe even hotter as a civilian.

He studied you for a second as you simply tried to keep your eyes open. Not having a clue of the time, you shuffled away from the door letting him in. Making your way back to the couch you snuggled right back into the spot you were in earlier, “To what do I owe the pleasure?” You mumbled out.

He took a seat on the opposite side of the couch, “You didn’t text me back… all day.”

“Sorry,” You sighed realizing you really hadn’t looked at your phone since about lunch time and it looked late out now, “Just been sleeping.”

He looked down, almost ashamed, “Why didn’t you call?”

You shrugged, “Didn’t think too. I don’t know. I’ve got everything I need.”

“I told you to call me when you were sick Y/N. I could’ve helped.”

This time your frowned. What was he getting at? Didn’t he have Olivia to fuck or some planes to go fly?

“Thought you were busy. Didn’t want to bother you.” It was a lie. You were too scared to bother him. To place your burden on him especially after what the blondie said the day prior. It was easier to lie than to comfort your feelings so suddenly.

“How many times do I have to tell you, you aren’t a burden Y/N. You aren’t a bother at all. I want to help you! Rooster wants to help you! Do you know how worried sick we’ve been? Penny all but begged me not to come but I couldn’t sit around that bar any longer knowing you weren’t answering your phone. You could’ve been dead for all we knew!” You winced hearing him raise his voice slightly at you.

He noticed, “I’m sorry. So sorry.” He apologized quickly.

A wave of emotions hit you all at once as you finally listened to him. You’d have probably argued back if you didn’t feel like such shit. You hummed closing your eyes while resting your head on the pillow behind you. You felt slightly guilty straight up ignoring him, but your head was pounding, and the fever was apparently raging.

You almost jumped ten feet in the air when Jake’s icy hand contacted your forehead, “Christ, Y/N you’re on fire.”

“And you’re freezing!” You pulled the covers closer hoping it would stop the shivers that erupted from your body.

“Here,” He handed you the thermometer that was on the kitchen table, “Can you check please?”

Placing the thermometer under your tongue you watched him as he watched you. The air in the room felt a little awkward for the first time. It had all usually flown so naturally between the two of you. But you were holding back on him, not letting him know why you were really truly upset… Olivia.

He didn’t look away as your eyes connected with his. He’d missed you, of course. Olivia was exactly that, a distraction from you. Because Jake was just like you. He didn’t think you’d ever give him the time of day. With your background and skillset, you’d be an asset to any relationship. Bradley even tried to talk him into admitting his feelings for you.

He was almost successful. Right before Jake was going to coming to admit his feelings and ask you on a proper date he chickened out and sat on the beach instead. That’s where he met Olivia. And the rest was history.

Until last night. Olivia got in his ear about you. Tried to say bad things before he shut them down right then and there. He reluctantly left with her when she asked him to. It was early and she could sense the irritation coming off of him. Jake broke the weeklong fling off as they walked the beach. He couldn’t stand the thought of even being friends with someone who could be so cruel to you.

He was going to tell you the next night, but you never showed up. You always worked the Saturday evening shift. Almost every bartender did. He barely got an answer out of Penny before he bolted for the door heading straight for your apartment.

You were lost in thought when the thermometer beeped. 103.2 degrees. Whew, that was warm for an adult. You hadn’t recalled the last time your temperature had actually gotten that high. Oh well, you’d just have to deal with it.

“Have you taken any Tylenol?”

You shook your head mumbling out a soft, “No.”

He sighed, “What the hell Y/N? If you aren’t going to call you have to take care of yourself.”

This time your returned the sigh. Tired of the act. He couldn’t really care for you like that. Not even as a friend. Especially if that Olivia said was true, “Why do you care?” You let out a little more coherently. It wasn’t like you to pick fights, but you were confused, truly.

His eyes crinkled downward as he took in your question. Gently, he sat down beside you, “Why would you say that?”

A slight flush coated your cheeks, he seemed so damn genuine, “Olivia… she came up to me yesterday when Bradley came to you. She went on and on about how annoying you thought I was. How attached I was. How being sick was… the worst or something.” You looked down, not having the slightest bit of courage to look up at him.

“And you believed her?” His frown deepened as he considered your words.

You sighed feeling slightly embarrassed about the whole thing, “Yeah, I mean she’s convincing… I guess.”

“Hey,” He took your chin in your hand, “You know that’s not true right.”

You nodded, loving the feeling of your head in his hand, “Yeah.”

“That doesn’t sound very convincing, Y/N.”

“I’m sorry… she’s just better than me. Prettier than me. Smarter…”

“Stop,” He shook his hand giving your chin a gentle squeeze. Not willing to hear such negativity come from your mouth, “First off, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for making you feel that way. You don’t get to see yourself from my view. How pretty you look when you smile at customers. How smart you sound when your just casually chatting with people. How easily you seem to connect with people. You’re so much more than what you see yourself as. Your not perfect, nobody is, but you’re damn near close to it.”

If you didn’t feel like you were going evaporate from the fever you were sure your cheeks would be inflamed. But your exhaustion and the heavy conversation seemed to dull your senses a bit, “You really think that?” It took a moment for you to process but once you did you were floored. Jake thought so highly of you?

“Of course, you’re incredible Y/N. You might not believe it, but I do. I see it every day. Olivia was nothing. A distraction from you. I was scared.”

“Of what?” Your eyes fluttered between opened and closed. Not seeming to be able to keep them in one state. You so desperately wanted to keep the conversation going. You were finally broaching the feelings subject. Of course, your fucking body would throw you out of whack when he tried to do so.

“You rejecting me.” He answered all too honestly.

You laughed a little, “I’d never reject you Jake. I’d never feel good enough for you if we’re being honest.”

He took your hand in his gently giving it a squeeze, “You’re more than enough Y/N. Everything I’d ever need.”

Blinking away the tears that Jake inevitably brought on you realized you must not have been successful as you felt his thumb brush away one that escaped, “Don’t cry sweetheart.”

You looked up seeing his overly concerned face. Oh, how soft Jake Seresin could be when he wanted to, “Happy tired tears.” You laughed softly feeling the day and conversation fully catch up with you.

“Come on,” He pinched your side forcing your eyes open, “Let’s get you to bed.”

You shook your head, “I’m good here. Comfy and too tired to move.”

“That’s what I’m here for darling.” Jake didn’t waste anytime laying it on thick. He was a romantic after all.

Without listening to your reservations, he scooped you up with ease. Gently, he laid you down in bed tucking you in under the covers.

“Jake?”

“Yeah?” He smiled looking down at you.

“Can you stay?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” He chucked diving into bed next to you. He pulled you close into him. He’d normally be warmed but you were rocking with your fever at a higher temperature.

“Night Jake.” You sighed enjoying jakes slightly cooler temperature.

“Goodnight. See you in the morning beautiful.”

Tag List: @senjoritanana @blackcatdhisgf @ohgodnotagainn @havlindzk @alana4610 @greasemonkeydarling

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teaandransacking · 1 year

Text

at times like these

Pairing: Anthony Lockwood x female reader ~ Written for @philliam-writes ~ words: 1k ~ content: injuries, romantic tension

You and Lockwood fall through the door to 35 Portland Row, and then you close it by slumping down against the wood. Beside you, Lockwood breathes heavily.

You only just escaped with your lives.

Glancing over, you take in his profile, his head tilted back against the door. The line of his neck looks tempting even in a situation like this, and you wish George or Lucy were here to distract you from your thoughts.

But this job was so big that the four of you had to split up, and the remaining two of your foursome were still out with Flo.

“You okay?” Lockwood asks, once he’s caught his breath. His long legs are stretched out in front of him. The laces of one of his trainers have come undone.

“Never better,” you snark.

He musters enough energy to smile at you. “There she is. It’s disturbing, you know, when you’re not sarcastic.”

“Well then, I’ll try to keep my tongue sharp so you’re never uncomfortable.”

He chuckles, but then winces, his hand flying to his side, and then you see it - the unmistakable dark splodge that can’t be anything other than blood.

“Shit,” you hiss. “Stay here. Keep your hand on it.”

He nods, looking a little paler than he did before, and your stomach bottoms out in fear.

You hurry downstairs to the kitchen and grab supplies. A bottle of antiseptic, medical tape, cotton wool. When you get back to the hall, Lockwood has shrugged his coat off. There’s blood on his shirt, but it’s not as much as you feared, or, you hope it isn’t.

“Reckless,” you chide as you start to unbutton his shirt.

He smiles a little. “Just reckless enough.”

You’d prefer it if he was not reckless at all, but you’re too worried about him to concentrate enough to form words.

Lockwood has no such trouble. “If I’d known I only had to get stabbed to get you to undress me, I’d have done it sooner.”

“Shut up.” You pry the last button free of its eyelet, and gently peel the cotton shirt - probably unsalvageable - away from the wound.

Thank God, it looks as if the blood is coagulating.

You tear off some cotton wool anyway and dump a load of antiseptic on it, gently pressing it to the wound.

Lockwood hisses in pain, his eyes closing. His lashes are long and thick on his high cheekbones, and he’s especially beautiful in the low light here, haloed by the muted glow from the old Tiffany lamp on the hallway table.

You make yourself stop thinking about how handsome he is and concentrate on the task at hand. Once you’re satisfied you’ve doused the wound in enough antiseptic to sink a ship, you cover it in gauze and secure that with probably too much medical tape.

“How does that feel?”

His eyes open. “Better. Thank you.”

“Good. Now, if it’s not too much trouble, please try not to get stabbed again.”

“I shall do my best,” he groans. “It’s an occupational hazard when around rapiers.”

You look at him, slumped against the door, half sitting, half lying, and think that perhaps you should have dragged him to his room or at least the sofa before patching him up.

At least he’s no longer got an undressed wound.

“Come on,” you say. “Let’s get you to bed.”

He arches a dark brow.

“For God’s sake, Lockwood.”

He smiles wryly. “I was trying to make you laugh.”

“Well, you can try again when you’re not in danger of bleeding all over the floor.” You help him to sit up, take his shirt off the rest of the way, and then sling his good arm over your shoulders. “Think you can make it?”

“For you? Unquestionably.”

You try not to read too much into his words. Possibly, he’s half-drunk on tiredness and pain.

Thankfully there aren’t too many stairs to his room. The bed is unmade, which is good - you don’t have to fuss with turning back sheets and a duvet to get him into it.

He sighs as you get him there, help him stretch out, and then remember at the last minute to take his shoes off.

“I don’t deserve you,” he says sleepily as you pull the covers up over his prone form. You exercise superhuman restraint in not looking too hard at his bare torso.

“Of course you don’t. But I’m here, anyway.”

You had planned to leave him to sleep, but as you straighten up, he catches your hand, tangles your fingers. You meet his gaze, and his soft brown eyes are a direct portal to his soul as he murmurs, “Stay? Please stay.”

Even if he didn’t have that buttery smooth voice, you can deny him nothing.

You grab the chair from under his desk and pull it to the bed, and after you sit, you reach out to smooth back his hair. A couple of loose strands flop over his forehead, and he looks boyish, endearing.

The only giveaway that he’s older than he seems are the dark streaks under his eyes. It tells you he’s seen so much for someone so young.

As have you. As have all young people, since The Problem.

You put it from your mind as Lockwood gazes up at you. He often looks at you like this, as if you hung the moon in the sky, and it’s getting harder and harder to pretend you just want to be his friend.

Maybe one day, you’ll admit your feelings to yourself, but today, you’ll just sit with him while he recovers, and it’ll be enough.

His eyes drift close as you continue gently threading your fingers through his hair, and then his breathing evens out as he falls asleep.

And you hope, selfishly, that he’ll dream of you.

#anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood and co fanfiction #lockwood & co fanfiction

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wardenparker · 11 months

Text

The Viper’s Bride - ch 2

Oberyn Martell x female reader x Ellaria Sand x OC Co-written with @absurdthirst

The second Prince of Dorne has lived under the illusion that he would not be forced to wed for his entire life. He has enough lovers and illegitimate children to make him a legend across Westeros, and the love of his soulmate Ellaria Sand to content him. But a contract between his brother and a lord from the north will catapult him into a match that may prove to be as complicated as it is intriguing. Especially when he learns that you already have a soulmate of your own.

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 8.1k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: terrible parents, age gap 10+ years, arranged marriage, classicism, cursing, food and alcohol* References to general Joffrey fuckery, internalized guilt, fingering, hand job, vaginal sex, unprotected sex. Summary: A walk with the future queen, a moment with Raeden, and a clandestine meeting all make your first day in King’s Landing a memorable time indeed. Notes: We are creeping closer to that fateful first meeting!

Ch 1

The invitation that is delivered to your chambers several hours later is a note from Lady Margaery, addressed explicitly to you and asking you to meet her in the gardens an hour hence, that you might walk together. It is incredibly polite and deceptively friendly, but when you nod to the serving girl who delivers it you can't seem to muster any enthusiasm beyond good manners. Lit with the orange sun of the afternoon, you appear at the mouth of the gardens freshly bathed and in a clean gown, still not having eaten a morsel for days. You doubt very much that you will be able to stomach more than a few bites at dinner but since you will also be dining with the future queen, you have to at least try.

“Isn’t the evening beautiful?” Margaery asks, appearing beside you as her lady in waiting falls back so that it is just the two of you.

"It's very...warm." That isn't quite the reply she was hoping for, you know what, but nothing at all in the world seems beautiful right now. And King's Landing is significantly warmer than where you grew up in the Vale, so at least you're being honest.

Her laugh is light, tinkling out and capturing the attention of anyone nearby. Her arm is linked with yours and she tugs you forward to propel you into the gardens. “It is warm. Although the breeze along the sea wall is quite refreshing.”

"The sea is always refreshing." Your windows in your family's estate faced the cliffside, overlooking the Narrow Sea at the very tip of the Vale's Fingers. The sound of the crashing waves has long been your favorite lullaby. "Thank you for the invitation." Remembering your manners, and the fact that this woman will be queen in two days, you do manage to offer her a smile. "You must know that I have not been to King's Landing since my presentation at court, so I truly know very few in the capital."

“You are not missing much.” Margaery leans in and whispers, although it is loud enough that the lady in waiting that is walking three steps behind the two of you giggles softly. “As a future queen and princess, we must stick together, you and I.” She knocks your shoulder softly, friendliness in the gesture. “Otherwise we might expire of boredom.”

"I cannot imagine you are very bored here." Margaery Tyrell seems very fixated on the fact of who you are supposed to marry, and it makes you shudder. Surely she has better things to do than be focused on your own arrangement?

“You would be surprised.” Margaery is terrified here, afraid of misstepping but her grandmother assures her that you would be a strong ally to make. “There is not much I am in charge of…yet.” She decides to switch topics. “Have you already started planning your own wedding? Will it be in Dorne? I have never visited, however, I’ve always wished to.”

You swallow, barely keeping from biting your lip as she steers you through the lush garden. "I have not even met him yet," you admit quietly.

“Oh.” Her eyes widen in surprise, her hand tightening ever so slightly in comfort and she nods. “I see.” She hums, lowering her voice slightly. “He is quite handsome and despite what his reputation portrays, my grandmother says he is an honorable man.” She informs you, seeking to comfort you some. “He does not have rumors swirling as some do.” Her own husband-to-be, for example.

"Our family has a good relationship with Dorne. They are...quite positive that it will be beneficial to both families." There has been no regard for your happiness whatsoever, no reassurance of anything besides the fact that the Prince of Dorne will no doubt give you children as quickly as he desires. "I think, perhaps, that you know far more about the man my father promised me to than I do myself."

“I have met him.” It was long ago, when she was far younger and unconcerned with the dealing of adults and kingdoms. He had come to see if the Tyrells could be persuaded to send money and men across the sea to find the Targaryen prince and princess that were rumored to be alive. Her grandmother had declined but she had privately commended him for his efforts.

"Then you know much more than I do." When it came down to it, your father did not even have a portrait of the man to show you. All anyone can seem to say is that he is handsome, which is not at all helpful if he is a monster in some other way.

“He brought his small daughter with him.” She confides. “My father was furious because she was a Sand, but Oberyn ignored him. He had just taken the girl from her mother.” She bites her lip and leans closer. “The mother was a whore. And he was only a lad himself. Yet he did not employ a nurse for her. She went where he did.”

"I understand he has...several children?" The figure your mother had hissed at you was eight but surely that cannot be true. He would either have to be quite a lot older than you or incredibly promiscuous for that to be the case.

“From my recollection he now has eight daughters.” Margaery confirms with a small laugh. “You will be carrying your own child quickly, no doubt.”

"A fact which everyone has seen fit to assure me of." For the first time, when you turn to look at her, she seems much less a beautiful noble daughter and simply a girl. She may have met her groom already, but her situation is just as arranged as yours is and even more influential. "Forgive me if I seem less than excited," you admit, tucking your hands into the sleeves of your gown. "The arrangement is still so new to me."

“I understand.” The fact that she had been married to Renley Baratheon before his untimely death is not mentioned. Her grandmother had gone to great lengths to have that swept under the rug. She isn’t excited about marrying Joffrey. She’s dreading it, but she can’t show that. There are too many eyes and ears here in the keep. “At least his rumored skills shall bring you pleasure. There are worse things.” She shudders delicately, thinking of the time her betrothed had tortured one of the chambermaids.

"There are also more important things." For all his supposed prowess, you have yet to hear anyone claim that Prince Oberyn is a kind man or an intelligent one. "At least you know the man you are meant to marry. For all I know, I have been sold to a man who will infuriate or despise me." Love does not even cross your lips, knowing that it will be impossible. There is simply no chance that you will ever love this man. Not when your heart already belongs to Raeden.

“Prince Oberyn…admires beauty in all forms.” Margaery murmurs delicately, aware of her brother’s own interest in the man. “He loathes the Lannisters, yet Myrcella Baratheon is fostered in Dorne.” She reveals. “Where the girl is quite happy and not one hair on her golden head is molested. Plays with his younger daughters.”

"Why is Princess Myrcella in Dorne if he despises Lannisters so?" This is more information than you have ever been able to get about the man at once before and from a person that you cannot let know that you do not want to marry him. Curiosity is a virtue that you can afford to have – simply gathering information without ever expressing your own opinion on the matter.

“Peace treaty.” Margaery’s brow raises and she wonders how much you know about the history between Dorne and King’s Landings. “It was promised years ago.”

"I see." Apparently being in the Vale has left you out of a great many things as far as the ways of the world go. But then, you have never been one to enjoy politics and your father afforded you the freedom to avoid such conversations. "So it is his brother who affords her safety, then? The elder Prince of Dorne, I mean." The intricacies between brothers, at least, you understand perfectly.

“No.” The queen-to-be shakes her head, her hair swinging softly behind her. “He does not blame the child for things that happened before her birth. Or for who her parents are.”

“I see.” This time you nod when you say the words, chewing on the information you have been given. It does not make you like the man necessarily, but it is oddly comforting to hear that he is not outwardly cruel, as some men in power can be. “Well…” A stolen glance is met with Lady Margaery’s wide eyes staring back at you, as if she is trying to pull information from deep in your soul. “Mercy is a virtue,” you offer, not quite knowing what else to say.

You are not giving her much, practically nothing, and she wonders if you are in love with someone else. Margaery smiles and nods. “Yes it is.” She agrees, looking out over the gardens again, pleased that several other guests have seen the two of you together. “We shall have to visit more during your time here.” She decides. “If you are not too taken with your betrothed.” Her smirk is small and sly, slightly envious of the fact that you will be sharing the Prince’s bed.

“From what I have been told, there is no reason I should not be.” And yet? You know better. You know that every minute spent with the Prince will be one less minute with Raeden and you want to scream about the injustice of it all.

Your turn around the garden leads you straight back to the entrance and Margaery comes to a stop. “There are still several hours before dinner.” She murmurs. “Most of the staff are taking their own meals now so there are not many in the corridors.” Her eyes watch you for a moment before she tilts her head. “I believe I will go to the library and choose a book myself.”

“You have a library?” There is no reason it should surprise you, but the idea of sitting amongst books is delightful and calming, and you can easily picture bringing a borrowed book of poems back to your room to share with Raeden tonight. This is truly the first good news you’ve had all day. “Would it be presumptuous to ask to accompany you?”

Her smile is slow and sincere. "It is not presumptuous," she promises, winding her arm back through yours and starts walking again. "The library of the keep has been studiously stocked by the maesters." She tells you. "Although the Citadel has a more extensive collection."

“I think reading is better than almost anything in the world.” It is truly the most excited she has heard you about anything so far, and the first time you feel like you have truly smiled in at least a week. “But I read all of the books I brought on the journey here. Something new would be wonderful.”

"There is many to choose from." She laughs. "I will have to select a few of my favorites for you to take back to your chambers."

“How very kind of you.” She has clearly found your weakness – or at least one of them – and you cannot help but be relieved at it. So many women at court care only for gossip and fashion. To find someone else with an active mind is an unlooked for blessing. “My father has the greatest library in the Vale, and I will miss it desperately.”

“I have no doubt you will curate the greatest library in Dorne.” It’s on the tip of her tongue to inform you that Oberyn writes poetry, at least according to her grandmother, but she doesn’t want you to feel as if she is pushing the man on you.

“It would be a great pleasure.” Sitting for hours in a stack of books with Raeden and endless pots of tea is perhaps one of your greatest fantasies, but that kind of freedom has simply never existed for you. The ability to fulfill that has never been within your grasp. Still you find yourself clinging to the thought and inadvertently clinging to your companion’s arm. “Have you ever read a book that simply made you feel transformed? It is the greatest magic in the world.”

Her own experiences with magic have not been positive but she understands what you mean. Nodding, she smiles as she leads you inside the keep and towards the eastern wing. “I often lose myself in books of poetry.”

“Poetry is a wonder.” Feeling much more yourself at the prospect of books, you smile a true, broad smile as you pass through the halls of the keep. “I wrote love poems for my brothers when they were courting their wives. They were hopeless at it and begged me to help.”

Margaery laughs and sighs. “I wish someone would write poetry for me.” She admits softly before she presses her lips together. “However the king is more of a physical man.” She corrects quickly.

“Oh.” That was not a revelation you were expecting, but you try to school your expression away from surprise. “Well, there is…there can be no sin in that, can there? As you are to be married so soon.”

“We have not—” She shakes her head and shudders slightly. “The king has not attempted to woo me into his bed as of yet.” She assures you. “He is just not a man to whom flowery words are forthcoming.”

“Forgive me for misunderstanding.” The way she reacts to the mere suggestion, though, surprises you even more. There is almost an edge of revulsion to it that makes you unsure if you ought to be offering her comfort. “I am sure that in time love will help his tongue to find the words he surely feels in his heart.”

Margaery seriously doubts that Joffrey’s tongue will be anything but vile and vicious but she smiles and pretends nothing is wrong. “Love does temper the roughest stones, does it not?”

“I think so.” It brings a warmth through your whole body that could nearly make you sigh if that would not have given you away completely. Instead you clear your throat and affect a demure expression. “My brothers, for instance. They were quite rough once.”

“I see.” Margaery doesn’t ask about the momentarily dreamy expression on your face, needing you as an ally. The large double doors to the library stand sentinel and she stops in front of them. “Here it is.”

The Red Keep’s library is enormous, stretching far above your heads to a vaulted ceiling and far beyond your view to rooms and rooms of volumes just waiting and begging to be perused. The intricately carved banisters and shelves along with the elaborately decorated windows make it lavish and nearly forbidding, but that the familiar scent of old paper and bindings beckons you inside like an old friend. “How lovely,” you sigh out, looking around you with glee. “I swear it is bigger than my father’s library. It must be. I cannot possibly thank you enough for bringing me here.”

“It is my pleasure.” Margaery assures you. In the library, she doesn’t have to worry about her intended showing up here, not even sure if he knows the keep has a library. It was her safe space in a decidedly unsafe situation. “Look around. There is a lot to be offered.”

It is the most welcome invitation in the world, and you find yourself wandering toward the nearest shelf and inspecting every volume you can get your hands on to find just the right one. It doesn’t matter what the right one even is. You will know it when you find it.

******

Slipping inside the keep had been easy enough. Plenty of servants coming and going, and it was obvious that none of the nobles knew the people who served them. Cal keeps his eyes on you, the description given to him accurate down to the unhappy glaze to your eyes. The crumpled letter is in his pocket, unsure of what it says since he can’t read but after hovering outside the double doors to the library, he slips inside and starts to look for you among the shelves of books.

It seemed like not another soul inhabited this place other than you and Lady Margaery right until you nearly walked head on into a nervous-looking young man standing right in front of the next bookcase you had intended to inspect. “Oh! I— ex-excuse me. I didn’t see you there.” There are already three small books tucked into the crook of your arm and it’s a miracle that you don’t drop any of them. “Pardon me,” you murmur again, rocking back with the surprise of seeing another person.

Cal wasn’t expecting an apology, shoving his hand into his breeches pocket and thrusting the folded and sealed letter into your hand. “My lady.” He mumbles, turning around and rushing from the library. He had done as he was ordered. He had delivered the message.

It’s all a little too odd, and you stare after him for a moment before looking down at the carefully folded piece of paper in your hand with its bright orange wax seal. There is no mistaking that your name is scrawled beautifully on the front, so you crack the seal with careful hands and unfold the letter.

The privilege of your company is requested after supper time this evening to share wine and entertainment at the Coachman’s Tavern. We have much to discuss, Ellaria Sand

“Who…?” You breathe the question out loud but realize there is no one to answer you. Who in the world is Ellaria Sand?

******

Raeden’s boots strike the stone floors harshly as he strides towards the library. The lady-in-waiting, mistress Mariana Tyrell, had informed him that you had been shown the library but he needs to speak to you. His position as your guard would not cause too much attention, but he must warn you.

Still standing with a dumbstruck look and a letter in your hand when the library doors open again, you turn from your place in the stacks to look out into the main room. “Ser Raeden.” He is a sight for sore eyes at any time, but as you come out from amongst the stacks of books you can see Lady Margaery emerge as well. “Am I called for?” You ask him, wondering if maybe your parents wanted to know how your walk went and sent him to fetch you.

Pulling himself to a halt in front of you, he bows. “Yes, my lady.” He lies, needing to get you alone. “Your lady mother requests your presence.”

“How unfortunate.” At least your frown is not at all false, and you turn to Margaery with an apology on your tongue. “Lady Margaery Tyrell, this is my guard, Ser Raeden Stone. Come to whisk me back to my mother’s side, it seems. Thank you for your kindness, I hope this time together can be repeated before long.” After all, a walk in a garden and a visit to the keep library is a very pleasant way to pass an afternoon, and she is to be queen. You are not foolish enough to think you should not be kindness itself to her.

“Go.” Margaery nods towards your guard, her lips twisted into a small curve. “We will visit again.” She decides. “Soon.”

Striding from the library at Raeden’s side, you wait until you are well past the doors before looking up at him again. “What is it really?” You ask him as quietly as you can. “You look worried.”

“Not until we are in your room.” Raeden insists, his eyes shifting around as he guides you back towards your chambers.

The tense walk seems to take forever and you find your mind wandering to the worst possible news. Prince Oberyn has decided you will wed immediately being at the top of the list.

He opens the door to your chambers, blessedly one that you do not have to share with your mother or maid. Hustling you inside and barring the door behind him. “Your mother knows.” He rushes out without preamble.

“She only thinks she knows something.” Because you haven’t had a moment alone with him, you haven’t been able to tell him what transpired in the carriage on the way here. “She tried to frighten me into saying something but I swear I didn’t give us away, love. We’re still safe.”

“No.” Raeden shakes his head, taking your books and dropping them on the table where a floral arrangement is sitting so he can take your hands. “She– she called me to her chambers.”

“Gods above.” His fingers laced through yours immediately and you hold them tight. “What did she say?”

“She informed me that she knows that we have the same marks, and she will make sure that I am dragged back to the Vale with her, naked and tied to the wagon if I interfere with your marriage to the prince of Dorne.” He shudders, scowling at the hateful diatribe he had been subjected to.

"I am sure she said a great deal worse than that." And yet that is enough. You pull him into your arms with a deep sigh and hold him there, knowing that this is no one's fault but your own. "She has scared you because she could not scare me. I would not cower before her in the carriage when she threatened to take you back to the Vale if I misbehaved, so she struck out at you instead. I...my love, I am so sorry."

“I am not.” Raeden shakes his head. “Your mother is a vile woman, but I needed to make sure you know what I do.” He sighs, understanding why you had not been able to tell him about the carriage ride, but he wishes you had. He would not have panicked.

"I am sorry I could not tell you. It seems nearly impossible to have privacy here." That, it occurs to you, is no excuse for not finding a way. But at least it is honest.

“How do you think she found out?” He murmurs, frowning slightly. “I do not change in front of the men.”

"The only possibility is my maid." It had not occurred to you that there might be more than just the reason of her family to stay behind, or that she might have lied to you about being pregnant, but she is the only one who knew.

“It is possible your mother threatened her, my love.” He knows how repulsive your mother can act, pressing his forehead against yours.

"Whatever happened, my mother's grasping fingers have dug into our lives with certainty." You sigh, tightening your arms around his waist. "What did you say to her? When she confronted you?"

“Nothing.” He promises you. “I said that my lady was mistaken and as your guard, my duty is to protect you with my sword and life.”

"I think you must be the only truly loyal man in the world." It is a relief to know that he gave your mother no satisfaction in her prying, and you tilt your head back to slot your lips against his gratefully.

The mere act of kissing you does more to calm him than anything else could have. Groaning, he pulls you closer to him and lets his hands roam.

"My love..." Who knows who saw him come into this room with you – if your odious mother has paid off the castle servants to spy already. If some spying laundress is already running off to give her an account of a man's moan coming from inside your chamber. "Rae." It is not often that you stop him from free exploration of your body, but caution is in the air now. "There is something else I must tell you."

“What is it?” He pulls away, confusion marring his handsome face. It has been days since he had been close enough to touch you and he is aching with the need to reassure himself of your bond.

"A messenger found me in the library just before you did." Either for comfort or because you cannot resist, you kiss him once more before fishing the letter out of the pocket of your dress. "I have no idea who it is from, but it is very clearly addressed to me."

“What does it say?” He can read, but it is your letter and he would not pry unless you offered it to him.

"Someone named Ellaria Sand wants to meet me." You press the letter into his hand, wondering what he will think of it. "It is certainly an enigmatic invitation."

“Who is Ellaria Sand?” Raedon asks, taking the letter and reading it carefully. “She’s a bastard. Sand is the surname for bastards in Dorne.”

"Dorne?" Fear flits across your face in equal measure with confusion. "She may be an enemy. Or an ally. There is no way to know."

“Are you going?” He asks, looking up from the letter to you. “To see what this Ellaria Sand wants? I will be with you.”

"I was going to ask you what you thought I should do." His sense of the world is more defined than yours. More informed. There are many things that you have been shielded from in your life, and he has been one of those shields. "I trust you, love. Implicitly. Whatever you think we should do, we will do."

“I think you should see what she wants.” Raeden answers slowly. “There are many games afoot here in King’s Landing, it is best we know which one you will be involved in.”

"And you will come with me?" Going anywhere in this city entirely alone is not only foolish but dangerous. Which is precisely why you have a guard in the first place – for your protection. "Wherever this Coachman's Tavern is, I have an inkling that it is not in the most reputable part of the capital."

He nods once. “I will not leave your side. I will be with you the entire time, my lady.”

"Rae." You tilt your head at him. "We are alone. There is no need for formalities."

Biting his lip, he contemplates pulling away, leaving your chambers – but he can’t. “My love–” he murmurs softly. “Let me touch you.”

"We must be quiet." That is the only warning you give him before tossing the letter aside and moving to the door to bar it. If anyone has seen him come in, large excuses will have to be made. But as long as nothing is heard, you will be safe.

His eyes darken as he reaches for his belt to untie his sword. “My love.” He murmurs quietly. “I have missed you.”

"I despise travel," you declare, firmly but barely on a whisper as you fairly fly across the room to be back in his arms. "I despise anything that keeps us apart." Unbuttoning his great coat, he doesn’t bother to remind you that soon you will be parted. He cannot know how the prince will react to him being your soulmate.

"Too many layers." Your hands may be smaller but they are determined to shed every layer he is wearing, from his coat down to his stockings. Every button and tie offends you by being in your way. "My love..." The request is unspoken, granted as soon as you look up at him and his lips crash against yours once more.

There have been so many times he has prayed to the gods for forgiveness. He knows that he is wronging you by staining your skin with his touch, but he cannot help himself. You are his soulmate, his other half. He feels complete when he is skin to skin with you.

Nothing can make two people faster to bare themselves than the need for reassurance, and this moment is no exception. Stripped down to nothing, Raeden lifts you off your feet and lays you out on the bed like a feast to be devoured. "Love." The term is reverent even when whispered – or perhaps more so this way – and you reach for him even as you squeeze your thighs together in anticipation. "Touch me. Please."

Nights spent in your bed, quietly stifling your sounds as he learns your body, has made him an expert on how to touch you. He kisses you slowly, sliding his tongue into your mouth as his fingers delve into your folds beneath the thatch of curls covering your cunt.

He swallows your gasp, humming in contentment that you still make such perfect sounds after so many nights together, and you shamelessly roll your hips down toward his hand in a determined motion. His thick fingers are the only possible preparation for a cock as impressive as his and you relish these early moments of intimacy as much as any other time. Sometimes all you need to be satisfied is to have his fingers or his tongue and then to kiss away your essence from his lips afterward. But today you need all of him. After weeks without being able to so much as touch him, you are desperate for him.

The hard muscles from hours of training and practice bunch and coil under your fingertips as he fingers you. His cock already hard at your hip, pulsing as he continues to kiss you. Breaking away from your lips to kiss down your jaw.

Every inch of him is worth exploring, but your focus is entirely on pleasing him right now. Your hand wraps around his cock, squeezing the base and stroking slowly up and down the shaft with a subtle twist of your wrist that never fails to make him shudder. The game is simple: whichever one of you breaks first will inevitably end up begging for the other, or pushing the other onto their back to be taken with pleasure.

“I love you.” Your name is whispered after his promise, his vow to you. You are so perfect, his hips chase the feeling of your hand as his fingers curl up inside you and he kisses down your chest to take one nipple into his mouth.

"I love you." When your hips roll up to meet his hand you let out a shaky breath and your other hand clutches his shoulder, holding him to your chest while his tongue swirls around your pebbled bud and flicks at it like he's trying to spark magic. Perhaps he is – if that were his goal then it is certainly magical the way he makes your legs shake with an impending climax.

It is always sweet the way that your body responds to his touch. Making him grin against your nipple as your hand covers your mouth to stifle your sounds. He knows your body so well that it may as well be his instrument, and he strums you as perfectly as any harpist does their strings. It takes biting down on your own fingers tonight to stifle the sound of ecstasy that threatens to bubble out of you, but your body greedily drags him in in every way that it can. Back arching to urge him to devour your tits, cunt clenching to keep his hand from ever leaving your body again, even your hand tensing around his length to promise him how tight you will hold that wondrous part of him inside you when he does eventually take his hand away.

Making you come apart for him is Raeden’s favorite task. If he were a lord, an idle and wealthy man, he would spend all day with you in bed. Or perhaps go about his business with your trembling body responding to his touch. In the darkest, most shameful thoughts in his mind, he thinks about that. Displaying you for others in the great hall while his fingers or cock are buried inside you and your screams of his name are echoing through the halls.

There can’t be any echo here, no cry of his name reverberating through the keep for all to hear, but you still come apart for him as sharply as if you were under command. It isn’t enough. Not tonight, at least, and you squirm under him like a needy beast already begging for more. “What do you need, my love?” He asks, pulling off your nipple with a wet pop. His eyes are onyx from need and desire, staring up at you.

“You.” The answer may be simple, but the need runs deep, and you have to swallow a moan when your muscles tighten around his fingers again and a gorgeous squelching noise comes back as a result. “Will you let me ride you, love?”

“Always.” Raeden groans, loving the sight of you on top of him. He is not exactly dominant and when you take control, he is blissed out by the time he cums. “Have you taken your tea, or do you need to pull off?”

“I have had my tea.” The recipe was taught to you by your septa years ago. The woman was no fool, teaching you to understand that men who seek to control a woman do it very often by controlling her womb. The tea, therefore, has been your constant companion even when you are too sick for anything else.

He groans, enjoying the thought of staying inside you as he finishes. “Ride me.” He begs, rolling over and dragging you on top of him.

“Shhhh.” Playfully chiding him to keep his beautiful groans quiet, you bracket his hips with your knees and rise up to set the head of his cock at your dripping slit. His hands on your back steady you, holding you in position while you sink down on him and your mouth drops open on a silent moan of pleasure to feel every inch of him inside you again.

His fingers dig into your hips and he bites his lips to stifle his moans. “Shit.”

Going two full weeks without this should be considered torture, but the feeling of coming home to him that you feel makes all of the stress and anxiety melt away. This is where you belong, coupled together with this man, and there is no more natural a feeling to be felt. Love may not always be simple or pure, but these moments together certainly are.

Holding his breath, Raeden watches as you start to move. Sex with you has been almost a religious experience for him. The rise and fall is like a dance, hips seeking out every ounce of pressure they can find and chasing every motion that makes his breath hitch. He has learned your body as well as you have learned his and every movement counts for more than just a simple bounce.

It is hard to keep his hips on the bed, grunting softly while you bounce on his cock. Drinking in the vision and knowing that for now, you are his. One hand reaches up and cups your breast, fingers rolling over your pebbled nipple just like you enjoy and he tugs on it gently.

Some nights could be spent forever in his lap like this, while others must be shorter encounters. Today there is some luxury to be had, but the need is too great. Every day that you spent apart had made you more desperate and that second climax tingling at the base of your spine is already so close.

“You are mine.” He needs to claim you, even if it is for a moment. A fleeting sensation that will be overcome by duty. Soulmates didn’t matter among the nobility unless it was an advantage and Raeden Stone was of no use to your father.

"Always." No matter if another man's ring sat on your finger, your heart will always belong to him. And in the face of the terrible reality that your decisions are not your own? At least you can promise him that.

He hasn’t met Oberyn Martell, but he is jealous of him. Jealous that you will be his spouse and bear his name. That he has a name to give you that is respectable. He closes his eyes and bites his lip.

"My love..." Bending down to him does not stop you from moving, only changes the angle, and you press your lips to his with earnest dedication. As much lust as there is in his eyes, it is mixed with a sadness that you know is your fault and your desperation veers away from your own pleasure in order to bring him as much distraction and satisfaction as you possibly can.

“Don’t.” He huffs quietly. “We know what we mean to each other.” He promises, knowing this is not your choice.

"What we will always mean to each other." Dread floods you, sickeningly thick sadness that makes your limbs heavy and washes arousal away like a cold flood. Instead of the twist of pleasure it's just agony, and you can see it painted across Raeden's face as well, so you slip off of him and burrow into his side to cling to him instead. "I will always love you," you promise him through the veil of impending tears. "Nothing will change that."

He can’t think about this, can’t dwell on it. Rolling you onto your back, he parts your thighs and settles between them before pushing back inside you, “Nothing.” He hisses.

The need for reassurance can have many essences to it, and this one rings the edges of your intimacy to make it lovemaking. His thrusts are slow and measured, pushing you steadily to the edge and toppling over it after you like his last night of life.

Raeden can’t make it hard and fast. He needs this to rip apart the very fabric of his being. Gasping your name with every slow rock of his hips, he kisses every inch of skin he can reach.

When the trembling finally subsides neither one of you will let go. If a sinkhole opened under King's Landing in this instant you would fall into it together as one, arms clinging tightly to each other and dreading it less than you dread the eventual meeting with Prince Oberyn. Tomorrow will be a horrible reality, and for all you know, the Dornish woman you meet tonight might only make it worse.

“I love you.” He murmurs quietly, meant for your ears only. “Only you. You are my soul, my entire reason for being here.”

"As I love you." Your fingers graze his cheek and for the moment a sad smile is the best that you can offer him. "To the furthest depths of the ocean and the highest peak of the sky."

“From now until the gods take me.” Raeden promises, pressing a kiss to your lips softly.

******

The Coachman's Tavern is just an ordinary building of white and gray from the outside. It signifies nothing, just stone and plaster with a painted sign that hangs over the door to tell travelers they can find shelter inside. The only thing of interest or note that you or Raeden can find as you approach is the sound of music coming from inside and stamping – perhaps meaning there is dancing to be had. The invitation had spoken of entertainment after all.

Ellaria sits at the table she had procured for this meeting, a carafe of wine and two goblets are already sitting, wine poured into the one in front of her. It’s not Dornish, so it’s not nearly as good as what she usually drinks, but a glass to settle her nerves is necessary right now.

No one seems to pay you any mind when you come into the tavern, seeing you and Raeden simply as hooded travelers seeking food or shelter like anyone else. Sneaking out of the keep had been task enough, but now you have to find a woman you have never met in a building full of strangers. As your father says – it is a search for a needle in a haystack. "Which one do you think it is?" You whisper to Raeden, looking around the tavern to find any women sitting alone. Perhaps she did not come alone just as you did not?

The small oil portrait that Oberyn had been provided was accurate, if dated. You are older, more assured than the slightly meek countenance in the portrait. Smiling, Ellaria beckons the serving wench over and points to you, instructing her to send you and the delectable man following you over to her table.

"Miss?" The girl who approaches you is significantly younger than you but arguably far more sure of herself, and she offers you a keen smile when she catches your attention. "The lady in the corner is waiting for you," she says before swanning away to the attention of a table of men near the instruments being played.

The lady in the corner.

You look to where she has pointed immediately and find a beautifully dressed goddess of a woman with a curtain of pitch black curls cascading down her back, sitting at a table that bears two goblets and a pitcher of something that you have to presume to be wine. "My word..." The breath you take is tight with nerves and you look back at Raeden. "I suppose now we will finally find out what she wants."

"And who she is." Raeden murmurs, nodding once. He will follow wherever you go, and in this moment you are already moving toward the table where Ellaria Sand is sitting.

Her eyes sharpen when you look her way, wariness and apprehension are written on your features, though you are lovely. Humming to herself, Ellaria straightens and waves you forward, smirking slightly at the protective stance of the gorgeously dark man behind you. She wants to know more about him. Instantly heated and her cunt clenching when she imagines this soldier, this protector in hers and Oberyn’s bed.

"Ellaria Sand?" If your look of concern gives you away, your voice certainly does not. It is the same voice you use with your mother when she is being particularly combative, or with your oldest brother's wife when she attempts to command you about like a child despite being five years younger than you. It is a voice full of confidence, though right now it is at least half feigned.

Her brow arches up, surprised that there is a spine underneath that robe and dress. Nodding, she motions to the free seat and glances at Raeden. “Apologies, I had assumed this would be a private meeting. Please, pull up another chair for your companion.”

"This is as private a meeting as is possible," you assure her, biting back a smile when Raeden is quick to find his own stool instead of letting you find one for him. "I travel with a guard instead of a lady's maid. Anything that would be said to me can be said in front of him."

Quiet for a moment, Ellaria’s eyes flutter back and forth between the two of you before she nods. Looking past you, she beckons the wench again and smirks. “Another cup.” She asks softly, reaching for her coin purse to offer her another coin.

A cup is procured and wine is poured, but you don't touch the cup. You have no more information now than you did hours ago when her servant sought you out, except that you now know she is exquisite. A fact which does not exactly figure into this clandestine meeting. "Can I know what you have asked me here to discuss?" You ask, trying to be polite but also make the point that you have no wish for this time to be wasted. "Your note made it sound most urgent."

“To the point.” Ellaria smirks, her goblet inches from her lips to take a small sip. “And fuckable. That is a relief. Although you are unhappy about the arrangement.”

"I beg your pardon?" There is shock in your voice and Raeden's seat scrapes against the stone floor, already not liking the way this night is turning despite the woman's self-assured countenance having given him less pause than expected when you walked in.

“You are not prudish, are you?” She tuts, clicking her tongue and shaking her head in disappointment at the idea that you would be as boring as the other ladies of the North. “Pity.” Setting her goblet down, the lazy way she unfurls her body is measured. “I am Oberyn’s…lover.” She announces. “And his soulmate.”

That is, without a doubt, the very last thing you expected to hear from this woman, and instantly your eyes widen and you turn back to look to Raeden for some kind of guidance. You feel like your jaw has been unhinged and your heart clenched in a vice, though you cannot tell if it is from dread or relief. "I was..." But whatever you were, or whatever you intended to say, it sticks in your throat.

"My lady was under the impression the prince had many lovers." Raeden recovers his voice before you do, reading your mind as only he is able. The matter of her being the man's soulmate will be next.

“Oh,” Ellaria chuckles huskily, “but he does. Sometimes just the whores we pick out, sometimes a lover that is with us for some time.” She smirks and eyes Raeden and you both with equal interest.

“If your intention was to try to make me jealous, I’m afraid you will not be satisfied.” Confused, more like. As you do not know why she keeps looking at you like a roast beast at banquet. “You must be well aware that I have not even met the prince yet.”

“I know. Just like I know your own lover sits beside you.” She murmurs, smirking slightly at the way you frown and bite at your lip.

“What is it you want?” Raeden bites out, when you do nothing to refute the woman. If word about the two of you has gotten out, it could spell ruin for both of you – putting both your reputation and his life on the line.

“To see what kind of woman my lover will be chained to.” She admits very bluntly, picking up her own wine again. “He had no desire to marry your…soulmate? Or just a lover?”

“I have no desire to marry him, either.” That, at least, you have in common and it makes you sit up a little straighter. “Do you mean to tell me that we were both strong-armed into this match?”

“The problem with nobility is that you are bound by the rules that make you better.” Ellaria shrugs slightly, unconcerned with that since she had always been a bastard. “Whereas I and your lover are not.”

“You presume to know quite a lot about us.” Something which troubles you much more than you are willing to admit. Have you truly been so blinded by love that you did not see the signs you gave to the world? “Spies in the Red Keep, I assume?”

“It is obvious.” Ellaria sends you a tight, woman-to-woman smile. “Oberyn has no issue telling the world that I am his lover, I have birthed four of his children. Though I can see why you would keep your affair a secret.” She flicks her hand in annoyance. “If you were a whore, no one would care who you fuck. But because your person was pushed from a noble woman’s cunt, your existence is monitored, judged.” Her smile turned acidic. “It is a man’s world. Unless you know how to move in it.”

"And yet the only thing I can protect her with is my sword." Raeden cannot explain the feeling, because he would normally bristle at the sort of attitude this woman is displaying, but aside from knowing that she is right, there is a surety somewhere deep in his soul that she can help. Or at least that she is not actively seeking to hurt you, which is far more than you have been afforded by your own mother.

“Protect her?” Ellaria hums and takes another sip of her wine as she contemplates the two of you. “There is no need in Dorne.” She assures him. “Unless your sword is your cock–” she chuckles. “And then I hope you will share.” Draining the rest of her cup, she stands and sets down four more gold coins. “This was much needed.” She tells you. “Now I must return to my lover’s arm.” She smirks. “Good eve to you both.”

______

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