#but the underlying thoughts are Deep i promise | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vampsywrites · 9 months

Text

II — i remember her hands, and the way the mountains looked.

Synopsis: In which the Sullys approach the mountain clan for sanctuary. The Olo'eykte agrees but proposes one condition: Toruk Makto's eldest son must be promised to her daughter. Surprisingly, instead of the solemn response one would expect, Neteyam agrees almost instantaneously.

Tags: Female! Mountain Na'vi! Reader, Arranged Marriage, Sun&Moon couple, Strangers to Lovers, Neteyam is whipped, Mentions of Jealousy&Possessiveness, Romantic tension, Neteyam wanting to impress his girl, Lo'ak having the time of his life teasing the shit out of Neteyam, Reader has that Tsahik rizz

Word Count: 2.8k | AO3 LINK

< PREV | SERIES MASTERLIST | NEXT >

With the village of the Iuva'ri clan now their new home, the Sullys followed you past open fields, their eyes wandering in amazement at the sights.

Everywhere they looked, the hustle and bustle of daily life surrounded them. Hunters could be seen hauling large beasts into the village, farmers had their hands deep in the earth as they worked to ensure a bountiful harvest, and weavers, with their deft hands, skillfully crafted intricate patterns into fabric.

Though the environment was not too different from what they were used to in the forest, it was still a significant change from the wild, cluttered jungle they had known all their life.

While his family was busy taking all of the clan in, Neteyam was fully focused on you. He watched in fascination as the village parted when you walked past, people practically throwing themselves aside to clear your path. From elders to children, they bowed in reverence and greeted you with warmth and admiration, recognizing you as their Tsahìk.

Through the walk, Neteyam also couldn't help but notice how your presence captured the attention of the young men and women around. Warriors, weavers, hunters – they all seemed to be drawn to you, stopping in their tracks with blushing cheeks as they exchanged hushed words. Their lingering gazes and subtle glances, their eyes which seemed to follow you like a predator stalking its prey, didn't escape Neteyam's watchful eyes.

As he observed this intense attention you garnered, a pang of possessiveness surged through his gut, and his tail lashed out in irritation.

Neteyam felt torn, battling with the internal struggle of feeling irrationally possessive. Deep down, he knew he had no right to be jealous. After all, he had no claim over you, and he had yet to truly earn your trust and affection.

The announcement of your courtship clearly took the clan by surprise. While some genuinely celebrated your happiness, others found it difficult to hide their envy. Evident by the glares sent his way from those who might have hoped to be in his place.

This scrutiny only served to intensify his emotions.

"This will be your home now," you called out, your voice calm and welcoming, pulling him away from his thoughts. Neteyam watched as you guided them to a beautifully crafted hut elevated on bamboo wooden stilts. It stood gracefully above the ground, a testament to the skilled craftsmanship of your people. The roof was steeply pitched and thatched with nipa palm leaves, while the walls were intricately woven from bamboo slats.

Tuktirey gasped in amazement, her eyes wide with childish wonder as she marveled at the hut's elevated design. "It's so tall!" she exclaimed, clearly impressed by the unique structure.

You hummed, understanding their awe and sensing the underlying hesitation in some of them.

"You will grow to like it," you reassured with a small smile. "It may be different from what you're used to, but it will keep you safe and warm. Our people have lived in harmony with Eywa and these lands for generations."

Tuktirey beamed up at you. "I can't wait to explore and learn more about your ways," she cheers, enthusiasm evident.

“I am sure you will learn well, little one,” you hum, running a hand through her braided hair.

With ease, you then moved towards the stairs, climbing up with a sense of familiarity as you began to haul their belongings to their new home. The family followed behind you, still feeling a tad bit out of place.

After ensuring they were comfortable, you began to excuse yourself, knowing you needed to give them some privacy. As you walked past Neteyam, catching his gaze, you gently rest your hand upon his chest. After murmuring a quick goodbye, you withdrew your hand and swiftly left the hut. Neteyam’s mind ran haywire, the spot where your hand had been burned with a sudden fire, leaving a lingering sensation on his skin that he couldn't shake off.

Eywa. It had only been a day and already you had an effect on him.

With your departure, the family gathered together, finding a spot to discuss the events that had transpired earlier. Neytiri paced back and forth in the open hut, footsteps loud against the wooden flooring, her mind racing with a myriad of thoughts and emotions.

"Alright," Jake sighed, running a rugged hand down his face, breaking through the tension. "We have to unpack what just happened earlier."

Neytiri nodded, her brow furrowed as she tried to make sense of the situation. Her eyes turned to Neteyam, concern evident in her voice as she asked, "Ma'itan, are you sure of this?"

"Oh, he sure is," Lo'ak answered for his brother, sending a grin his way. "I mean—Did you hear him back there?"

"I will accept this proposal. Only if she will have me," he mocked, mimicking Neteyam's accent in a deep, gravely tone. Kiri couldn't help but hide her face with her hand, trying to stifle her laughter.

"Skxawng," Neteyam snarled playfully and gave Lo'ak a light smack in response, which only made his younger siblings laugh even more.

"Enough, you two," Neytiri's voice rang out, cutting through the air. She shook her head in exasperation, her beaded locks swaying and rattling with her movements. Turning her attention back to her eldest, her tone dropped a timbre as she murmured, "Neteyam, this is a big decision. Are you truly sure about this? You wish to mate with that woman?"

Neteyam's gaze shifted from his brother to his mother, lips drawing into a contemplative frown as the weight of it all settled heavily on his shoulders. The significance of such a union wasn't lost on him. The mating bond was not merely a union of bodies; it was the fusion of two souls, a sacred connection dictated by Eywa. He took a deep breath, trying to find the right words to express his feelings.

"I am sure," he replied, his voice steady, despite the turmoil inside him. Neytiri studied his face for a moment, catching the hesitation laced in his expression.

"You do not have to do something your heart is against," his mother whispered, reaching forward, both of her hands finding his tense shoulders, rubbing deep circles into his muscle. Neteyam felt the warmth and reassurance in his mother's touch, and for a moment, he leaned into it, finding comfort in her presence.

"That’s the thing. My heart isn’t against it. I just… I felt something when I saw her." He then hesitated, struggling to unknot his mind and put his feelings into words. "Like-Like a heartbeat."

Kiri's eyes sparkled with wonder, a look of recognition flashing behind her eyes. Her tail swished with delight as she leaned forward eagerly, the shawl slipping off her shoulder in the haste of her movement. "You must have felt Eywa's connection with her. Was it like a calling? Could you feel a mighty heartbeat?"

Neteyam froze, his gaze turning to his younger sister.

"Yes. Exactly that, Kiri," he replied, his voice filled with a hint of disbelief. "It was like… she was calling out to me in some way, as if our souls were somehow intertwined."

Kiri's excitement grew, and she couldn't contain her joy. “Eywa has blessed you with a gift, brother. Rarely do mates feel such a deep soul connection on the first time they meet."

"Soul connection? That’s love at first sight, huh?" Jake interjected, his eyes glinting as he glanced at Neytiri with a knowing smile. "Sound familiar?"

Neytiri's stern façade softened as she smiled back, unable to hide her amusement. "Yes, it does," she admitted with a fondness in her voice. Her eyes sparkled with a mixture of understanding and warmth as she looked at her eldest son. "Neteyam, ma’itan, if you truly feel this connection, then it may be a sign from Eywa herself. The steps you take next will be entirely up to you."

"It's just like those stories we've heard, bro. Soulmates and destined love,” Lo’ak chimed in. “You and her, together, guided by Eywa's hand," he smirked, clasping his hands together and making kissy faces. Neteyam huffed, shaking his head.

"Yeah. It might be like that," he admitted with a touch of bashfulness.

"But let's not get carried away with the dramatics,” Neteyam sighs, snapping himself back to reality. “I still want to get to know her first. I want to take it slow.”

“Slow, huh? Is that what you call asking her to mate with you on the spot?" Lo’ak laughed.

“Lo’ak!” Neytiri hissed, glaring at him disapprovingly.

"I did not ask her to mate with me on the spot!" Neteyam snaps through gritted teeth, his voice rising slightly in embarrassment.

Lo'ak's laughter boomed through the air, thoroughly relishing the sight of his older brother's flustered expression. It was a rare occasion for Neteyam to be caught off guard by his teasing, always having a smartass rebut at the tip of his tongue.

"Yeah? Well, it sure looked like it to me," he snickered, his tail swishing back and forth in interest. Neytiri intervened, smacking him upside on the head. Lo’ak winced in response, and nursed the spot where his mother had hit him.

"Ow, ow, I get it," he groaned, lying flat on the floor. "I'll stop."

"Alright. ‘Nough of that. Come on," Jake said, with a chuckle, huddling everyone close. Once they had formed a circle, he began to address them, his tone taking on a more serious note, "Listen, I really need you kids to be on your best behavior. And I mean it."

Jake shifts his gaze to his eldest son, “Neteyam becoming a candidate for future Olo'eyktan already stirred things up enough. And I don’t even need to tell you just how messy that’s going to be.”

Neteyam heaved out a tense sigh, keeping his eyes glued to the ground. “Sorry, sir.”

“We’re gonna get through this,” Jake continued, dismissing Neteyam’s apology, his voice carrying a tone of reassurance. “Together.”

Neytiri moved closer to her husband, gently placing her head over Jake's shoulder. “What does your father always say?” Neytiri murmured, her voice soft and soothing.

“Sullys stick together…”

“Little more feeling this time!"

“Sullys stick together!”

As the night falls and the stars twinkle in the dark sky, they finally retire to their new sleeping arrangements. Neteyam lays on his makeshift bed, a woven mat made out of palm and leaves, his mind abuzz with thoughts. He gazes out of the hut's opening, where he can catch a glimpse of you in the moonlight, going about your duties as Tsahìk, checking up on a few of the sick and injured in their huts.

Your silhouette against the moonlit backdrop mesmerizes him, and he finds himself drawn to your presence like a moth to a flame. As you notice his gaze, you offer him a reassuring nod before continuing your duties. His heart swells with warmth at the acknowledgment.

With the comfort of your presence lingering in his mind, Neteyam turns onto his back, feeling a sense of peace settle over him. The gentle rustle of palm leaves outside and the distant sounds of the forest lull him into a state of relaxation. He closes his eyes, allowing himself to fall into a deep and restful sleep.

The next morning, the village awakens early. The sky is painted in hues of pink and orange as the sun begins to rise over the mountains. Knocking gently at the side of their hut, you had called for them before the sun could even fully emerge, offering to show them more of the village and its surrounding wonders.

You lead them through the mountains, showing Kiri, Lo'ak, Tuk, and Neteyam the ways of life in this breathtaking terrain. The trees stand tall and proud, similar to those in the forest they once called home, but here they bear a different kind of energy, surrounded by majestic mountains which hold ancient tales of the ancestors before them. The group walks amidst the trees, their senses heightened by the subtle sounds of wildlife and the fresh scent of earth.

As you lead them further, you come across vast rice fields, a breathtaking sight of lush green beauty stretching as far as the eye can see. The fields seem to come alive with the morning sunlight. The stalks of rice sway gently in the breeze, creating a mesmerizing dance, captivating the forest Na’vi.

Amidst the exploration, Neteyam's keen eyes spot a group of mountain climbers in the distance, scaling a rocky hill.

"What are they doing?" he questions, his curiosity piqued.

"They're practicing for the coming-of-age ceremony," you say, your gaze following the climbers. Neteyam's curiosity turns into intrigue, and he listens intently as you begin to explain.

"It's an ascent to the clouded peak," you share, pointing to a towering mountain in the distance, its summit shrouded in mist. "At dawn, the candidates gather at the base. It is the tallest mountain in the region and they must set out on a journey to reach the summit."

Lo’ak whistles, grimacing while he sizes up the daunting landscape before him. "We have to climb that?" he asks incredulously.

“Only if you want to. Your Omatikayan ikinimaya should be enough for you to be recognized in the clan,” you assure him with a pat on his back.

Neteyam stays silent for the next few minutes, his faraway gaze directed towards the rocky mountain. Suddenly, he startles everyone by speaking up, the words slipping from his mouth causing your eyes to rip wide open.

"I want to partake in it," he says, his voice steady and resolute. The sudden declaration shakes everyone, and his siblings turn their attention fully to him, waiting to hear his reasoning.

You too gaze up at him in disbelief. "Are you certain?" you ask, wanting to ensure that he fully comprehends the challenges that lie ahead. “This is no simple feat—”

"I am strong," Neteyam interrupts, sounding a little harsher than he had intended, but it was important to him that you knew of his abilities. "I will be able to train for it well."

Your milky eyes drop to his battle-hardened body, sweeping over his broad shoulders and the ridges of his defined muscles, glistening softly in the sun’s glow. The scars etched on his skin tell tales of past battles and trials, a testament to his experience. Neteyam holds his ground, finding himself flexing subconsciously under your gaze.

"I know you are strong," you retort.

"Yes—"

"But the warriors of the forest are different from those of the mountains," you cut him off with a pointed stare. "It is not just about physical strength; you will have to learn how they train, their techniques, and their ways of life," you begin to move towards him, a challenging look in your eyes. "It is difficult to fill a cup that is already full."

Neteyam's jaw clenches, his gaze unwavering. "Then I will empty my cup. I will adapt," he asserts with passion. "I will prove myself not just to your people but to myself as well. If I am to be chief, I have to embrace your ways."

"Pretty sure you just want to impress her, bro," Lo’ak quips. Neteyam scowls at his remark and, in a swift motion, drives his elbow straight into his younger brother's side. At the impact, Lo’ak immediately folds, nursing his side as his face contorts in pain. “Fuck!”

Ignoring Lo’ak, Neteyam turns back to you, his expression steadfast and unwavering. In that moment, he feels an overwhelming longing to prove himself to you, to earn your admiration and love based on his own merits, not just because of any preconceived notions or expectations.

His determination shines like a beacon, and his sincerity tugs at your heartstrings. It's as if he's baring his soul before you, showing you the depths of his desire to be someone you can truly respect and admire.

With a hum, you settle back, your tail flickering behind you in intrigue. If the rumors carried by the wind from clan to clan about him were to be believed, then you should have known he would want to partake in the ceremony.

Such a bold spirit, evident in those golden eyes of his every time he spoke. The mountains around you seemed to echo with approval, as if Eywa herself was acknowledging his resolve.

"If you are that eager, then I will teach you," you say, the decision firm in your heart. It feels as if a weight is lifted off his shoulders at your acceptance of his offer. Neteyam hums, trying to maintain a stoic expression but the telltale flicks of his ears and tail betray his anticipation and eagerness.

"Do not be mistaken, though. I will not baby you," you add with a daring lilt in your voice. You begin to walk away, the swing of your hips matching the sway of your tail. "Let us hope you can keep up, mighty warrior."

That seemed to only fuel the fire within him further.

Neteyam’s chest rumbles in a deep laugh, a fanged grin stretching across his cheeks. "Yes, ma’am.”

< PREV | SERIES MASTERLIST | NEXT >

see you in the next episode where the reader works her future husband's ass to the ground xoxo

TAGLIST: @rainbowsocks @milktealvrr @strawberri-blonde

2K notes · View notes

spencersssockss · 3 months

Text

Nightmares

Summery: After being abducted by an unsub you begin to struggle with nightmares, while staying at a hotel for a case Spencer hears you screaming in the night and comes to your rescue and the next morning the two of you finally admit your feelings to each other.

Warnings: mentions of violence, nightmares, mention of murder…, other than that just fluff!!

Word count: 1k

A few months ago you had been abducted by an unsub. The team found you two days later, you were beaten and forced to watch your captor pluck his victims apart.

The physical pain was nothing, just a few bruises and cuts, it took less than a month for them to completely heal. The emotional pain, however, was a completely different story.

You had grown paranoid, watching over your shoulder all the time, never having your back turned on anyone and plenty more obvious signs of PTSD. The team had noticed but because they knew you would be fired by Strauss. They swept it under the rug.

It had grown worse, the team was staying in a hotel in Texas, for a recent case, everyone had their own room.

You were glad, but you were also worried. You had been experiencing nightmares every night since you had been abducted, waking up drenched in sweat, screaming, and sometimes even ending up rolling off the bed.

“goodnight everyone,” Rossi mumbled before disappearing into his hotel room, everyone following suit not long after.

The two of you are both in your hotel rooms, there’s a door that connects them, and you leave it unlocked just in case. You know you can trust Spencer. you hurriedly change into your pajamas and lay in bed.

It takes you a while to fall asleep but you do, a nightmare fills your mind, the captor is back, and he’s dragging you down a dark hallway. your screaming in your sleep, waking up Spencer, he immediately rushes to the door connecting the room.

Spencer rushed into your room, instantly awake and alert, his eyes scanning the darkened room for any signs of danger, only to find you thrashing in bed tears spilling from your eyes.

He shook your shoulders gently, careful not to do it too hard, jolting you awake, eyes full of terror.

As soon as you recognized his face you hugged him tightly, crying into his shoulders.

“It's okay, I’ve got you, you’re safe now,” he cooed rubbing circles around your back.

You clung to him tightly, shaking with fear as the images of your nightmare still lingered in your mind. You took deep breaths to calm down, trying to focus on his soothing voice and the comforting touch of his hands. "I'm sorry,"

don’t be sorry,” Spencer frowned. “it’s perfectly fine to be experiencing this, I know I did, I’m the one that should be sorry, I knew you were struggling, I promise if I knew it was this bad I would have done something sooner,”

"It's not your fault," you whispered, sniffling. "I should have been stronger." You pulled back slightly to look up at him, your eyes still filled with fear but also an underlying vulnerability that made his heartache.

“you are strong, you are one of the strongest people I know,” Spencer said sitting next to you on the bed taking one of your hands into his own.

"Thank you, Spencer," you replied softly, still sniffling slightly. You leaned into him, seeking comfort in his warmth and presence.

“if I stay in here with you while you sleep do you think it’ll help?” Spencer asked wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

"I think it would help a lot," you whispered gratefully, nestling closer to him. You felt safe and protected in his arms, and the thought of falling asleep with him nearby made you feel even more secure.

“let me go get my blanket and pillow so I can set up a bed on the floor,” Spencer replied standing up.

“no, please just sleep up here with me,” you mumble sliding under the covers and patting the spot beside you.

Spencer’s eyes softened, "Alright," he said with a smile as he climbed into bed beside you, tucking an arm around your waist. He pulled the covers over both of you and snuggled close. "Get some sleep now, I've got you,"

“I’m so grateful for you,” you mumbled turning around to lay your head on his chest instead.

“Shh…” he said softly as he began to stroke your back gently. “Just relax and sleep well. I’ll be here for you.” His warmth and presence filled the room, and you could feel your heartbeat begin to slow down.

you fell asleep that night and for the first time, you slept peacefully without a nightmare.

The next morning, Spencer woke up to the soft sound of your breathing, his arm still wrapped around your waist. He couldn't help but smile, feeling a sense of pride and gratification for being there for you last night.

you stirred awake, smiling when you realized you were still in Spencer’s arms.

"Good morning," he whispered softly, nuzzling his nose against your hair. "How are you feeling today?" He asked with a gentle smile on his lips as he continued to hold you close.

“I slept great,” you smile back up at him.

Spencer smiled, feeling relieved and happy to hear that. "That's wonderful," he said. "You deserve a good night's sleep after everything you've been through."

“you know I think of you as more than just a friend right?” you blurted, lost in his dark brown eyes.

“I know," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "I feel the same way." There was a moment of silence between them as they took in each other's expressions, his hands held your jaw as the two of you leaned it.

"I've been wanting to do this for so long," he whispered before pressing his lips gently against yours. Your heart skipped a beat as you felt his warmth and passion pouring into the kiss. He pulled back slightly, taking a deep breath.

“I don’t ever want to be without you,” you smiled as he tucked hair behind your ear. “you’re my safe haven.”

From that moment on the two of you were never separated, you did everything together.

#criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencerreidssockss #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine

380 notes · View notes

lydiimae · 9 days

Text

Adoration

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Part 1 <3

MDI!! 18+

Warnings: Mentions of sex work, mentions of alcohol abuse, mentions (very light and brief) of physical abuse to readers mother, oral (m receiving, vaginal sex, masturbation, dirty talk, talk of public sex

Word Count: 4.1k

A.N: ITS HERE. Part two of infatuation \^-^/! I had so much trouble trying to figure out how to extend this story, but as soon as I wrote this I was overwhelmed with ideas on how to continue it. I am so sorry I have been so very inconsistent with writing, I am nearing finals so I have been so low energy and motivation. (College is awful). For those who have sent me requests- they are coming I promise! Anyways my loves, here is Benedict Bridgerton and you being Benedict Bridgerton and you <3 I hope you enjoy it, and as always, thank you for your overwhelming support and love >_<

It has been two weeks since that lovely, lust-filled night with Benedict. Two weeks since you had officially become his mistress. Two weeks, and you still made sure to keep your past a secret, and the significant fact that you worked as a maid for the family that lives right across from him. There was a certain shame that came with both, a feeling that he would not want you to come to his townhouse anymore if he found out. You thought he might find it odd that you work so close to his house. Perhaps he might even come to the assumption that you were seeking him out at the party, that he would find you strange. None of that would ever be true, of course. Benedict adores the time he spends with you, he makes it clear every time you meet, but there is still an underlying sense of dread. Especially today.

Indeed, that dread is the same dread that is lingering in the back of your head now. You are chaperoning Penelope to tea with Colin, much to her excitement. You had spent almost three hours getting her ready beforehand, insisting that she looks good in whatever she wears. The both of you walked across the street, the young debutante grinning ear to ear. You, on the other hand, were a ball of nerves. You had met Benedict in his bachelor's lodgings just last night, but you decided not to speak of what he may see today. You were regretting that decision now as you knocked on the door with a shaky hand.

“Y/N, you are shaking. Whatever is the matter? Are you feeling well?” Penelope asks, looking at you with pure concern. “It is only a headache, my lady. Nothing you have to worry about. Today is about you.” You assure, smiling as brightly as you can as you fib. She smiles back, her face brightening. The footman, John, answers the door and grins. “Lady Featherington. Lord Bridgerton is in the drawing room. Please come in.” He says, opening his arm towards the entryway. You collect Penelope's shawl before bowing your head to the footman politely. She starts down the hall and you take a deep breath before faking a sparkling smile, following her into the drawing room.

Sure enough, Benedict is there, sprawled out across the sofa with his sketchbook and charcoal in hand. He looks up lazily when Penelope walks in, but his expression quickly changes to one of shock when you follow. Your face shifts from a bright smile to an apologetic one, trying to communicate your worries silently. A silent prayer that he will pick up on your lingering anxieties about working for his neighbor.

He clears his throat and comes to the door, where you are patiently standing. “You… for them?” He whispers as he approaches, his expression unreadable. You only nod in response, knowing that if you say anything it will come out a jumbled mess of stutters. “Why did I not know before now?” He asks, settling into a polite position near you. To anyone on the outside, it looks as if he is merely speaking to a maid about his brother and her mistress. “I... I suppose I did not find it important.” You fib.

“Well, I certainly do. You are so secretive.” He sighs, looking over at you. Your eyes settle on your feet, not daring to meet his. “Y/N. If you are going to be my mistress there must be some semblance of transparency between us.” He says softly, his pinky extending and curling around one of yours. The action makes your cheeks heat up. “I did not know if you would think it strange. I have worked there for so long… I thought you would perhaps think less of me.” You whisper, the reasoning sounding silly now that you have said it out loud.

"And why would I think that?" He asks, sensing your nerves and giving your pinky a comforting squeeze as if to say that he is not put off. "You do not find it strange that I have worked across the road from you for ages? I thought that you would think I somehow... sought you out." You whisper, a bit tense. “No, I only pity that you have to be in the same home as Lady Featherington, the woman is a wench.” He mumbles, nudging your hip with his own. You have to suppress a laugh as you look up at him. He looks down at you with an expression of adoration.

"Y/N, I do appreciate honesty. I wish for you to tell me things like this. You do not need to feel anxious around me." He says softly, turning from playful to concerned like a dime. "I do not. I promise. It is more anxieties that linger because of past experiences I suppose." You whisper, looking down at your feet. He senses that there may be something more underneath, and he also senses that you do not wish to speak about it any longer. "My statement still stands. I am not others, I shall not judge you for being a woman who needs to support herself. I certainly shall not judge you for being apprehensive of telling me the place of your employment either." He assures.

“Thank you.” You breathe, looking away before you slip up and do something entirely untoward. You watch Colin and Penelope interact, a small smile gracing your lips as you observe how sweet they are to each other. “Colin. Does he hold any affection for any of the debutantes this season?” You ponder quietly as you watch Penelope smile shyly at the young man. Benedict looks over as well and a knowing look crosses over his features. “He has been secretive about it. Unusually so.” He whispers back. “And Penelope?” He returns. “Penelope is ever hopeful about one.” You hum before returning your gaze to him.

He meets your eyes and nods, giving your pinky a squeeze with his own. “She is a sweet girl. I have no doubt she will be successful in making her hopes a reality this season.” He murmurs. You nod and look away once more, stolen glances getting all too much paired with the grasp of his finger around yours. “Have you opened yourself up to the idea of marriage, Benedict?” You ask though you do not wish to know the answer. Some strange ache spreads through your chest at the thought of him marrying someone.

He visibly tenses and shakes his head. “No. No, I wish to focus on my art. Improving it, getting ahead in the academy. No time for… marriage right now.” He nods, clearing his throat and quickly returning his gaze to his brother. You nod, something about his vehement denial of the idea of marriage making you calm slightly. “It is quite suffocating. The idea of having to give your whole heart to a person with the risk that they break it. Then you would be… stuck.” You whisper and he looks down at you.

“You believe so?” He asks, his brows knitting together. You look up and nod. “I… what if the person changes once you make your vows? What if they hurt you? I find it terrifying.” You admit. “You do not?” You ask and he shakes his head. “No. I find the risk all the more romantic. If you find someone who truly makes your heart swell, someone who you find you cannot breathe without, who plagues your mind day in and day out, would it not be worth the risk?” He asks and you cannot respond.

“Finding a woman that makes you feel as though you have discovered the reason behind why poets speak of love so greatly, the way that artists paint the feeling so vividly, is well worth the risk to me. It is what makes life so exciting, finding your person. Your reason.” He finishes, and your heart is practically hammering out of your chest. “That is a very beautiful outlook on love, Benedict.” You manage to whisper back, and he smiles. “It is the naive artist in me.” He whispers back, his tone right back to playful and you nod, smiling to yourself. Whoever Benedict marries is a lucky woman, you decide.

Soon, Penelope and Colin part ways and you are forced to let go of Benedict’s pinky. With a quick curtsy to the Bridgerton brothers, you lead Penelope into the entryway where you wrap her shawl around her shoulders. You curtsy once more to the footman before walking the young debutante back home.

She speaks of Colin the whole way back and for the rest of the afternoon. You find it endearing, the amount of love she holds for the young man. She has never once admitted it outright, but it has always been quite clear to you in the way she speaks and looks at him. Your heart used to break for her when she would come crying to you about the things she overheard him say about her, but recently that has all changed. They are both clearly in love.

It makes you think of what it would feel like, to be a young debutante in love. To have all of the dresses in the world, to have your every wish only an arm's length away, to have your every need catered to. You had concluded long ago that love was a privilege, just as happiness and comfort. After all, you never saw any of those things in the neighborhood you grew up in. Not in the families you were surrounded by, and certainly not in your own.

Your father worked in a factory and your mother, though she would never admit it, was a prostitute. When your father reached the age of forty-five, the factory laid him off on the claim that he was getting too old and slow to keep up with the children. That is when your father began drinking. You were about ten and seven at the time, and you had picked up a job under a modiste in town where you met Genevieve. Every night when you would return home you would find your father screaming drunken insults at your mother. Drunken insults turned into drunken actions that he would swear would never happen again, and one day your mother stopped coming home from her nights on the streets.

Then, when you would come home, your father would yell at you. The minute he even hinted at being physical with you, you packed your bags and never looked back. Happiness and love were dead, a silly idea that only people with money could have. You spent another three years living with Genevieve before the job at the Featheringtons was presented to you. You accepted Lady Featherington’s offer gratefully and have been working as a lady’s maid for Penelope ever since. The only person who knows the full story of your past is Genevieve, as transparency is another comfort only granted to those with money. Who knows what would be said about you if you openly admitted that your mother was a lady of the night?

“How do you know Benedict, Y/N?” Penelope’s voice snaps you out of the trance you had been in while brushing her hair out before bed. Your blood runs cold. Had she overheard your conversation? “Whatever do you mean, my lady?” You ask, playing dumb. She snorts and smiles knowingly. “You were talking with him like you had known him your whole life, not to mention the way the both of you were looking at each other.” She says.

“My lady I-” You start, trying to think of any excuse to explain the way you were speaking to Benedict, but she quickly interrupts. “Y/N, you know that whatever you share with me shall be kept with me. I promise.” She says with a comforting smile and you chew on your bottom lip, deciding if you want to tell her the full truth or the half-truth. You quickly decide that there is no point in lying, as you are quite terrible at it.

“We met at a party a few weeks ago.” You whisper as your cheeks turn pink. She turns, making your hands fall to your side. “Really? My God! He is handsome, is he not?” She says with a grin and you smile shyly. “He is indeed, my lady.” You agree and she laughs. “Have you met with him? Has your friendship grown?” She asks and you nod. “I do. I meet with him whenever I am able.” You reply and she nods. “You deserve something wonderful, Y/N. Perhaps he could-” She starts but you shake your head. “It is nothing like that, my lady. I am quite content with my life here, working for you. I see no need in chasing something I am not allowed to have.” You say and her face falls. She nods understandably nonetheless, turning back to the mirror so you can continue to get her ready for bed, the idle conversation turning to one of the books she has read recently.

You make your way down to the servants' quarters after making sure Penelope has everything she needs for the night. As you walk past the other servants one of the other maids stops you with a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Grace, what is it?” You ask and she grins. “You have a letter, Y/N. A young man snuck it in while you were taking Penelope shopping this afternoon.” She says with a knowing smile, passing you a small letter.

“Thank you.” You hum before making your way to your small bedroom. You walk in and shut the door behind you, lighting the candle on your desk. “Meet me at midnight, where the world sleeps and the stars whisper secrets. Let us share a moment under the moon's gentle gaze, just you and me, lost in each other's embrace. B.B.” You grin at his somewhat sloppy handwriting, tucking the note away in the lockable drawer in your desk before getting ready to go to his townhouse.

You pin your hair up and put on one of Genevive’s more risque creations, made just for you. A gift for your nineteenth birthday that you have never had a use for until now. It is a baby pink, almost seethrough material that hangs loose on your body. However, it hugs the assets that you find Benedict likes the most. You cover it up with a cloak to walk and slip on your stockings and shoes before making your way out of the Featherington estate.

He had thought of nothing but you since you arrived at his home, even now as he paints in the small drawing room of his townhouse his thoughts are plagued by you. He is trying to be patient, but he wants nothing more than to run to the Featherington residence and have his way with you. His grip on the paintbrush in his hand tightens as his thoughts turn to the way your body moves when you are in his bed. The way his thighs feel hitting yours when he is buried to the hilt inside of you, the noises he draws from your perfect cunt, the way your breasts bounce when you are on top of him.

He groans and drops the paintbrush, burying his head in his hands as his trousers become tighter. He closes his eyes and jiggles his leg, trying to take his mind off sex. How humiliating would it be if he answered the door with his cock fully hard already? He groans and runs a hand through his hair, standing up and moving to the sofa so he can take care of the problem himself. He leans back and unbuttons his trousers, letting his cock spring free against his clothed stomach.

He sighs and spits on his hand beginning to stroke himself to the thought of you. Your face when you reach your peak, the way you moan when he drinks from your body, how your lips wrap around his cock as your eyes look up into his, always so eager to please. He moans at the thought of your perfect breasts pressed against his chest, your nails dragging angry red marks into his back as he fucks you so hard his hips leave marks on your pelvic bone. God, he wants nothing more than to mark you as his for the rest of the world to see. He wants to parade you around all of London completely naked and on all fours.

You smile to yourself as you walk to the back entrance, deciding to surprise him. You are happy to find the back door unlocked and you let yourself in, expecting him to be in the drawing room sat in front of a canvas. You hang up your cloak and seak deeper into the home, making sure your bare feet touch the cold wood as quietly as they can.

You freeze when you hear a loud moan from the drawing room, your heart dropping to your feet. Surely he does not have another woman here, you thought that you had made your boundaries quite clear when he made you his mistress. You did not want to fuck him after he had just fucked another woman, the thought made your stomach roll over with disgust. You chew on the inside of your cheek as you peek inside the drawing room, your lips parting when you are presented with a very much-alone Benedict stroking his cock on the sofa.

Heat pools in your core as your eyes lock in his hand, moving up and down quite quickly. The tip is already an angry red, dripping with hints of his arousal. You take a deep breath and make your way into the room as quietly as you can, biting your lip to stop yourself from moaning when he lets out a very breathy, and wanton, “Y/N.” You drop to your knees in front of him, pressing a light kiss to his knee in hopes of not startling him too much.

His eyes shoot open and his hands automatically go to cover himself. You laugh at his startled expression and he sighs in relief, moving a hand down to cup your cheek. “How did you get in?” He breathes, running his thumb along your cheekbone. You hum and lean into his gentle caress. “You left the back door unlocked. So irresponsible, Bridgerton.” You murmur and he chuckles, the deep sound making your thighs all wet and sticky.

“Perhaps I was being hopeful.” He whispers back and you smile. “You have not commented on the dress I have on. I worked so very hard to look good for you.” You tease, jutting your lip out playfully. He rolls his eyes and gestures for you to stand, making you giggle as you do. “Jesus fucking Christ, Y/N. Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” He grunts, placing his hands on your hips. You swat them away and he huffs in frustration. “Do not pout, I want to please you. Please.” You whisper and all of his resolve suddenly disappears.

He watches as you sink back down onto your knees between his legs, slowly slipping his trousers off. Once his legs are bare, you begin to pepper the inside of his thighs with wet, open-mouthed kisses. He groans and slides a hand into your hair, making the pins fall out. He plays with your curls and grips as you press a kiss so very close to his twitching cock, his reaction making you smirk.

Without warning you take his tip into your mouth, sucking on it like an ice lolly. He groans and rolls his head back, his hips bucking up as he grips your hair to try and push you onto his cock. You allow him to guide you, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes as your nose gets pressed into his pubic hair. You look up at him just as he looks down at you, a cocky smirk plastered across his face as he begins to thrust into your mouth. The action makes you moan, your hand sneaking between your legs to soothe the ache that has settled there.

You whine and grind down onto your fingers, the vibrations making him grunt and stall. You gag and tap once on his thigh, pulling off of him when he lets go. Drool dribbles down your neck and between your breasts as you pant, looking up at him with glassy eyes. He curls his fingers around your chin and leads you up onto your feet. “So perfect.” He whispers as his hands find their way to the soft flesh of your rear. He squeezes and you gasp, moving to straddle him as if on instinct.

He hums and presses a kiss to your lips as he begins to undo the ribbons on your dress. The fabric falls and he lifts your hips, his lips still locked with yours. He throws the dress somewhere across the room and his hands come to your waist, moving you so you are lying flat on the sofa. He breaks the kiss only to lick a stripe down your neck as your legs wrap around his waist. He hums and bites your collarbone as his fingers plow through your folds, making you cry out loudly. He smirks and rubs his thumb around your clit, slipping one long finger into your entrance.

Your eyes roll back as his finger curls into that spongey spot he somehow knows how to find right away each time. He adds another finger and begins to twist, slowly getting your body ready for him. You pant hard and crowd a hand into his thick hair, tugging him up from your neck so you can steal a sloppy kiss full of tongue and tooth. You whine when the feeling of his fingers disappears and buck your hips up into his, silently begging for whatever he wants to give you.

He parts the kiss and presses his forehead against yours, his tip nudging your entrance. You whine and close your eyes, at which he grips your chin. “Look at me while I fuck you, Y/N. You know the rules.” He breathes and your eyes snap open. He grins and buries himself completely inside of you with one thrust, making you cry out as he grunts. “Fuck. Fuck, you… God. So tight.” He breathes, beginning to pound into you at a brutal pace. You grip his arms, your mouth hanging open as loud moans and whines slip past your lips beyond your control.

He pounds into you, your nails dragging down his back with every thrust. His hands press down onto your hips so hard you are sure that his fingerprints will be embedded in your skin. He revels in the slick noises he draws from your cunt, sucking a mark on your chest where he knows it will not be seen. The sound of thighs meeting thighs fills the small space, the smell of sex making your mind foggy. His pelvis slams against your clit with every thrust, making an utterly intoxicating feeling of pain and pleasure wash over your body as he fills you to the brim.

He is so close already, what with palming himself and a quick suck from you. He presses his head into the crook of your neck and bites down, your nails digging into the skin of his shoulders. His hand sneaks between both of your bodies and his thumb finds your clit, circling fast so that he can get you to where he is. It works wonderfully and your cunt clenches around him ad you call out his name. He pulls out quickly, spilling himself on your stomach as his fingers take you to your climax. A pinch to your clit takes you over the edge, seeing stars and babbling nonsense about how good he is as you do.

He lifts himself off of you and cuddles into your side, making you smile. He peppers your shoulder with kisses and you laugh. “Stay?” He whispers after a moment of nothing but kisses and the sounds of your breathing. Your cheeks heat up at the adorable, hopeful expression that crosses over his face. “Mmm. I think I can, Mister Bridgerton.” You tease, flipping him onto his back and crawling over him. “Jesus Christ. You are utter perfection.” He whispers, claiming your mouth again.

Perhaps, love is not that far away.

263 notes · View notes

saturnville · 1 month

Text

candy bling, joe rantz.

pairing: joe rantz x black fem oc (cleotha jean). content: cleotha jean reminisces on her relationship with joe rantz. warning: more "modern" approach to their relationship. suggestive content. song: candy bling by mariah carey (I suggest you listen as you read). tag list: @neeville @turn-thy-paige @ihe4rtisa @ineedafictionalman @lovebyceleste @alliewassobonum

In the solitude of her room, Cleotha found herself surrounded by fragments of a past she had long tried to forget. She sifted through the contents of a dusty old box, memories flooded her mind with an intensity she hadn't felt in months. Each item she unearthed struck her heart in ways that made her uncomfortable, a relic of a love once consumed by every thought and emotion.

Among the treasures she tried to forbet lay a delicate silver anklet, its tiny bells tinkling softly as Cleotha held it in her hands. Memories of lazy summer days and whispered promises rushed back to her, painting vivid scenes of youthful romance and boundless dreams.

“What’s this?” Cleotha asked as she was handed a small, velvet bag. Her movements were sluggish as she peeled herself off the pillow she and Joe shared. The soft moan she pushed out was enough to make his insides stir again.

Joe pulled his arm behind his head and drummed his fingers against his sheet-covered thigh. A small smile pulled on his lips as he shrugged. “Open it.”

Cleotha held the sheet to her chest and shook the bag. Jingle, jangle. Her eyebrow quipped as she opened the bag and dumped the content in her hand. Two thin gold chains fell out, shining under the gaze of the sun. She hummed in awe as she fingered the chains delicately. “Two bracelets?”

“Bracelet and anklet,” Joe replied with extra emphasis, a teasing tone underlying in his words. Cleotha, who knew exactly why he bought it, threw her head back in laughter. She muttered, “You’re disgusting.” Still, she held her wrist out for him to place the bracelet on it.

Joe pulled the sheet back to reveal her brown legs. He readjusted their positions so he was in between her legs, her foot against his bare thigh. Cleotha watched intently as he hooked the gold chain around her ankle. He smiled in pride.

“You like it?” Cleotha asked, rotating her foot in a circle. Joe hummed and palmed her thigh, hooking her leg around his waist. He brought his lips to hers, nipping and sucking at the plushness there. Then, he made his way back down, pecking at her collarbone down to her calf once more, placing her leg over his shoulder.

“I do. I’ll like it even more in a second. Lay back.”

He made her feel so beautiful that day, glistening like jewels beneath the sunlight. Next to it, a necklace adorned with the initials 'J' gleamed in the dim light. She tried to smile as she recalled when she first received it.

“Joe!” she gasped. “This is beautiful! Will you put it on me, please?”

“Of course. Turn around for me.”

The smile on her face was childlike as she stood back to chest with her lover. His warm hands pushed her hair over her shoulder then wrapped the chain around her neck. The gold complimented her skin beautifully. He connected the link to the clasp and tapped her hip when he finished. “Let me see, sweetheart.”

Cleotha Jean grinned as she posed in front of him, the J on her chest smiling back at him. Joe nodded in approval, “Looks pretty, baby.”

“You think so?” she gushed, running her fingers off the pendant. “Want a closer look?” Cleotha pulled him in by his belt loops and pushed him against the bed, climbing on top of him. SHe wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pressed butterfly-like kisses all along his face. His cheeks were stained red from her lips,

Joe’s eyebrow raised in amusement as he welcomed her affection, His eyes dropped to the pendant that swung against her chest. “Yes ma’am.”

But it was the worn envelope nestled at the bottom of the box that stirred something deep within Cleotha's soul. With trembling fingers, she traced the creases of the paper, feeling the weight of years of unspoken words and unanswered prayers. As she unfolded the letter, the words spilled forth like a long-forgotten melody, each line a poignant reminder of a love that had once defined her very existence.

The park was their favorite place to be. Especially during the month of September. The sun still hugged them, but didn’t suffocate them with her warmth. Nature sung its harmonious song, the animals danced with each other amongst the trees, and the grass was still a bright green. It was a peaceful place to be.

It was like every other weekend; Cleotha Jean and Joe were sprawled across a picnic blanket with a basket of food propped open in front of them. Joe was lying on his back while Cleotha sat upright munching on strawberries and coloring in her book.

“Cleo,” Joe said. Cleotha hummed and continuing coloring her flower. “I wrote you a letter.”

Her coloring stopped. She swallowed the remainder of her strawberry and dropped her colored pencil. Joe reached behind him for a white envelope that he managed to tuck under the blanket without her noticing. He extended it to her, which she took with thanks.

Joe watched as Cleotha curiously peeled open the envelope and retrieved the letter. It was folded in threes, and was filled from top to bottom.

My forever sweetheart, Cleotha Jean,

You don’t understand that I wake up everyday and give thanks that you walked into my life. I felt that I was nothing but a poor kid with seemingly nothing to offer the world until you showed me otherwise.

I didn’t think it was possible to love someone more than I loved myself. Your existence proves me otherwise.

I often wonder if you know that you are a gift in human form. Wrapped in a brown shell, garnished with gold. I wish to keep you with me forever, as long as you’ll have me.

I often think about our future together. How I’m going to marry you as soon as we graduate. We’ll buy a house, travel the world, and have children. I’m still banking on 3, but whatever you want, I’ll be content. As long as I’m with you, I’ll take anything.

I want to be yours forever, if you’d have me.

Will you marry me?

The letter flew from Cleotha’s hands as she screamed loudly. The birds above her croaked at her sudden outburst. Her hands flew over her mouth and she finally made eye contact with her lover, who’d positioned himself on one knee with an open box in his hand.

The ring was beautiful. It was dainty, just as she liked, and a rich shade of gold. His eyes were hopeful as he awaited her reaction.

“Will you—“

“Yes!” Cleotha replied gleefully. She threw her arms around him so wildly that he fell backward into the grass. His laughs were music to her ears. “Yes, yes, yes! I’ll marry you.”

Joe smiled, “Yeah?”

Cleotha bit back a teary smile and nodded. “Yeah. It’s you and me forever.”

Her sweet baby. She hadn’t realized she’d been crying until she finished the letter and a puddle of tears smudged his neat handwriting. Cleotha folded the letter and put it back in the box, right next to the ring she took off months prior. It stared back at her and she forced herself to look away. She didn’t want to keep it, but Joe insisted she did, saying “it’s yours. I will never take back what rightfully belongs to you.”

With each memory unearthed, Cleotha found herself transported back to a time when love was pure, and the future seemed to be filled with promise. Yet, as she traced the contours of her past, a sense of longing stirred within her, a yearning for the man who had once held her heart in his hands.

She should’ve been over him by now, she scolded herself. Their union had ended more than a year ago; what was she holding onto? Well, another side of her probed. A three year relationship that began in college, an engagement, wedding planning, house hunting, and a planned future. It all dimished at the blink of an eye. It would take more than a year to recover from such emotional trauma.

Cleotha befriended a bottle of red wine after that. It was sweet and savory, just like him. She chuckled lowly as her fingers dapped away the drop that fell from the corner of her lips. She should slow down, she figured, but it was the anniversary of a love that she cherished more than herself. She owed it to herself to get wine drunk and eat popcorn, right?

She tucked her feet under herself and poured another glass, humming a tune, though nothing particular, to herself. Just as she brought the glass to her lips, a knock sounded on her door. Her eyebrow quipped as her eyes darted to a nearby clock. It was 9:32 on a Saturday night, who could have been at her door.

“Hold on!” she called out, glass in hand as she stumbled lightly to reach the door. She cursed as she stepped on a shoe that she kicked off in the entryway, toyed with the locks, and peeled the door open. “Oh…”

If anyone would have told her he’d be standing in front of her right now, she would have called them a liar. The communication had been severed eons ago, only having heard from him when she got the job promotion she had been praying for. Any other conversation, interaction, or moment of desire, was a faction of her imagination. Yet, here he stood, a ghost from her past, with sorrow etched in his eyes and regret weighing heavily on his shoulders. And she had no clue how to handle it.

She didn’t know whether to cry, scream, or throw herself in his arms. He looked so different than when she last saw him. He was broader, presumably from working out to keep in shape as he moved on from his athlete days. His hair was still platinum, but it was slicked back rather than messible touseled, though she loved it that way. His eyes, so gorgeous and blue, were so sad and empty.

“Hi, Cleo…”

Cleotha’s eyes welled with tears. She’d yell, scream, and put him in his place in the morning, but right now, all she could do is throw her arms around his neck and cry woefully into his shirt. With a voice choked with an emotion, she found the strength to say, “I missed you.” Her voice trembled with vulnerability. “I missed you so much.”

And in Joe's eyes, Cleotha saw a flicker of longing that mirrored her own. They stood in the doorway of her home without the exchange of words. The tears and gentle touches spoke loud enough. Maybe in due time, what was broken could be repaired, and the union that began years ago, could be recovered. Just maybe.

—

likes are great, but feedback is desired as well, friends! thanks for reading!

#saturnville #black!reader #black reader #the boys in the boat #tbitb #callum turner #callum turner x reader #callum turner x black reader #callum turner x reader #joe rantz x cleotha jean by saturnville #joe rantz x reader #joe rantz x black!reader #joe rantz #major john egan x reader #john egan x reader #Spotify

219 notes · View notes

kaeyas-beloved · 5 months

Text

before i could tell you

Character: Wriothesley

— he died never knowing your greatest secret

CW: afab!gn!reader (they/them), ANGST, hurt/no comfort, pregnancy, death (Wriothesley), Fontaine Act 4 spoilers

val’s no sympathy november masterlist

happy birthday Wriothesley... <3

The clock in the Chief Justice's office never ticked as loudly as it did now. What once served as pleasant background noise was presently a gut-wrenching reminder that you're currently in the realm of reality and not some dream world. However, you still futilely fight against it... simply because it’s all you can and want to do.

"Quit... quit joking around, it's not funny." Neuvillette takes a deep breath through his nose, subtlety glancing at the other faces in the room. The traveler from afar can’t bring themselves to raise their head, Clorinde stands deep in thought and Paimon floats beside her companion, sniffling softly. All of them can’t bring themselves to face you, each harboring their own regret.

As the embodiment of justice, Neuvillette rarely jokes, especially with concerns to another’s life. You knew this well, and yet you still repeat that same plea to him, hoping you’ll get a different answer than just silence. “Don’t joke like that Neuvillette… he’s fine… Wriothesley’s okay… he’s at home isn’t he? Like he said he’d be?”

You’re holding yourself like it’s the last defense you have at not splitting at the seams, and Fontaine’s Iudex wants desperately to deliver a different verdict that what the world has decided. Words the Warden spoke to him one evening over a hot pot of tea echo in his mind as he looks at your fragile form.

“You’ll keep them safe for me, won’t you Neuvillette? Life as Warden has its twists and turns, you never know what might happen down here. Ah, but of course you know this, don’t you?” He followed with a carefree laugh, and he could easily lie about being unaware of the ticking time bomb he sat above if he wanted to.

He feels as if he’s failed the man in keeping that promise. You physically may be safe, but your heart is going through hell and back in that moment and there wasn’t anything he could do. He could only watch on as the world around you buzzed, everything suddenly a trigger made to launch your senses into a state of overload. The light pouring through the window is too bright, everyone’s presence is too suffocating, your chest tightens and your stomach feels like it’s tearing itself apart and you just might be sick right then and there if you didn’t take a breath.

The embrace you had on yourself tightens, and as a form of comfort you imagine the familiar heat of your husband hugging you from behind, his large frame encompassing and the only thing you ever needed to feel better at times like these. For just a moment you’re able to feel him hold you, tuck his head into your shoulder and telling you that everything will be alright as he keeps you afloat.

He can’t though, not anymore, and instead it’s Paimon who tries to console you through words and the champion duelist who steadies you when your legs threaten to give out. “It’s okay, Wriothesley would want you to stay happy right? He’d want you to keep living even though he’s not here with you…”

Your gaze slowly lifts to the pink fairy, a shaky breath forcing itself past your lips, “it’s not okay Paimon… he didn’t know… I didn’t get to tell him…”

Your quiet admission not only confused her but the others as well, “Paimon doesn’t understand, you didn’t get to tell him what exactly?”

Neuvillette suddenly speaks, his eyes scanning over you. Anyone who knew him could see the underlying shock in his irises, unprepared to face this new revelation, “you’re with child, aren’t you?” The pieces click in his mind and anyone that was paying attention would notice the beginning of a heavy downpour starting right outside.

Softly nodding, fat tears began to slide down your cheeks, voice breaking as you continue, “I was going to tell him today, after he got off work. He promised he’d make it home tonight. Oh that Wriothesley… stupid, stupid Wriothesley…”

“Tell me how what happened, please. In full detail,” your request is met by hesitant silence, Clorinde finally being the one to speak up. You didn’t think it possible, but somehow everything just got worse and worse.

He was splashed with Primordial Sea Water closing the gates in the Fortress of Meropide. There is no body to bury. There’s no way to say a final goodbye. The Iudex watches a fresh wave of tears line your eyes, your blank stare as you process everything his cue to proceed with what hehe had in mind.

Standing from his seat, he walks up to you and lifts your trembling hands, placing something cool in your palm. Looking down, you’re surprised to see the necklace you’d gifted Wriothesley a few years ago, the one he refused to take off because it, according to him, “feels nice against my heart. Like a piece of you is always with me.”

“This was… in the pile of clothes left behind. I believe it to be something returned back to you,” he said, patting your hand once before brushing past you. Out of your view the male waved the others out of the room, just to give you a few moments to yourself.

When the door closed was the same second the dam broke, sobs of a heartbreaking calibre echoing in the quiet room. There was only one thought that circled in your mind: he’s gone, and he’s not coming back. No more waking up to his gruff voice in the morning, hair tossed in all different directions. You’ll never feel his calloused hands caress your cheeks, his voice low and only meant for you as he tells you he’s the luckiest man in the world to have you as his spouse and how he can’t wait for what the future would bring you both.

No more gushing to one another about how you’ll spoil your children as much as you can, daydreaming about what the little ones could look like, only to cuddle close and ready to fall asleep with the promise that no matter what you’d love them regardless.

“We’re getting our biggest dream to come true Wriothesley… I’m telling you now, so come back and love them liked you promised dammit. I can’t do this without you.”

Tag list: (both regular and event exclusive): @spoopy-fish-writes // @that-enby-alien // @xenuuu // @kaeyaloml // @mariposa666haruka // @quackquackmfs // @kunikuzushiii // @genshin-impact-writings // @ventisweetheart // @lordbugs // @leena-shi // @ari-the-wr1ter // @xiaos-wife // @milkwithspiceyicecubes // @stygianoir // @francisnyx

@kaiserkisser // @multipleshadesofblue // @moloteco-real // @kithewanderingme // @scaramood // @ii-lily2 // @esuz // @kochothehoe // @cindywasneverhere

#val’s nsn #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x you #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #wriothesley angst #wriothesley x gender neutral reader #genshin impact #genshin angst #genshin fanfic #genshin wriothesley #genshin writing #genshin impact wriothesley #genshin x you #genshin x gender neutral reader

316 notes · View notes

sinkovia · 25 days

Text

Black Market: V

Hitman Simon Riley x Doctor Fem!Reader

In desperate need of money to clear a million-dollar debt, you accept Simon's offer to become his personal doctor, earning twenty percent of each contract he completes. But as you plunge back into the black market, ghosts from your past emerge, threatening to unravel everything you've worked so hard to run away from.

Fluff, violence, mention of roofie, mention of sex trafficking.

Masterlist - Black Market Masterlist

You and Simon sit at the dining room table, a deck of cards between you. The soft glow of the overhead light casts shadows on the cards as you shuffle and deal. Simon frowns as he studies his hand, clearly not thrilled with his cards.

After a few rounds, you lay down your winning hand, a triumphant grin on your face. "Looks like that's four wins for me, Simon."

Simon eyes you suspiciously. "You've got to be cheating. There's no way you're winning this much by luck."

You laugh, gathering the cards. "Maybe you're just not as good at this game as you thought."

Simon rolls his eyes, his competitive streak showing. "I highly doubt that. You're probably just a cheater."

You lean back in your chair, smirking. "Well, if you want, I can teach you a thing or two about the game. But I don't think you have what it takes to beat me."

Simon scoffs, "We'll see about that."

The banter continued as you shuffled the cards for another round, Simon making snarky remarks the entire time you played. Despite the teasing, there was an underlying comfort in each other's company that had grown over time. You played your winning hand down again and Simon threw his cards on the table and leaned back shaking his head.

“Just admit you’re cheating love.”

You laughed and went on a rant about how he doesn't know how to play the right cards and the two of you started bickering again. You never realized how much you enjoyed having Simon around, his presence had become a source of comfort and joy in your life.

As you sit across from each other at the dinner table, the clinking of cutlery against plates fills the air. Simon's question catches you off guard, “Ever been to the Bahamas?" genuine curiosity in his voice.

You pause, swirling your fork through the food on your plate before responding. "No, I haven't really traveled much since... you know, everything happened."

Simon nods, understanding evident in his expression. "I'm not surprised,"

You take a deep breath, "I never wanted to risk getting seen. Traveling is the number one way people get sex trafficked, and I couldn't take that chance."

"Makes sense,"

After a moment of silence, Simon speaks up again, his tone thoughtful. "You know, since you have your own little personal bodyguard," he gestures towards himself with a small smirk, "maybe it's time for the two of us to take some much-needed vacation."

You raise an eyebrow, a hint of surprise crossing your features. "Vacation?"

Simon nods, "Yeah, why not? We both deserve a break from all this madness. And besides," he adds with a playful grin, "I promise to keep you safe."

You can't help but smile at his offer, feeling a warmth spread through you at the thought of spending time outside on the beach. "Where would we even go?"

Simon's smile widens as he leans back in his chair. "The Bahamas of course”

You lean back in the chair and think for a moment, "I don't even have any clothes for the Bahamas,"

"We can swing by your place and pick up whatever you need.” You hum and nod slowly, “Sounds like a plan then.”

The plane gently touched down on the runway, signaling the start of your much needed vacation. Soon enough, you found yourselves checked into your hotel room, ready to unwind after the flight. But as you stepped into the room and surveyed your surroundings, a frown creased your brow.

There was only one bed.

Turning to Simon, you raised an eyebrow in silent confusion. His muttered curse confirmed your suspicion. "Fucking hell, I asked for a double queen room," frustration evident in his voice.

While Simon dialed the reception you took the opportunity to explore the room. Opening the curtains, your eyes widened at the breathtaking view outside the window. The sight of pristine beaches and blue waters stretched out before you.

Moments later, Simon's exasperated tone broke the tranquil silence. "Bloody no good fuck," he muttered, hanging up the phone.

"They're fully booked, so they can't switch our room,"

You shrugged nonchalantly, trying to mask any disappointment. "That's okay," you replied, forcing a casual tone. "I don't mind sleeping on the couch."

Simon's response caught you off guard. "What couch?" he questioned, his brow furrowed in confusion. Glancing around the room, you realized he was right. There was no couch in sight, only a couple of single chairs scattered about.

With a resigned sigh, you turned back to Simon, a wry smile tugging at your lips. "Well, I guess we'll just have to get cozy in the bed then," you suggested with a hint of amusement. He quirked his brow, his lips in a tight unamused line.

“I'm joking Simon” you laugh and shake your head, “we will figure something out later, I want to go to the beach and get some drinks.

You opened your suitcase and grabbed your swimsuit and cover-up, eager to enjoy the day ahead. After changing in the restroom, you slipped on your sandals and stepped out, only to freeze at the sight of Simon, shirtless, standing in shorts with his back turned to you.

Your eyes immediately drifted to the tattoo adorning his back, a large Medusa inked with intricate detail, reminiscent of your own.

Turning to face you, Simon casually adjusts his sunglasses atop his head. "You ready?" he asks, his voice breaking the momentary silence.

"Yeah, just need to grab my bag," you reply, still slightly taken aback by the coincidence of your tattoos. You glance down and notice Simon wearing a fanny pack, a sight that surprises you. Unable to contain your amusement, you offer a playful smile, "I didn't peg you as the type to wear fanny packs."

Simon's response catches you off guard as he casually reaches into the fanny pack and pulls out a small silenced pistol. Your eyes widen in surprise. "Got to keep us safe," he says matter-of-factly, his expression serious yet nonchalant.

Together, you head towards the elevator. Just as the doors slide open, two girls enter. You instinctively step back, allowing them space. However, it's Simon they seem to notice, their eyes lingering on his bare chest and his inked arm. Their flirtatious demeanor doesn't escape your notice, and a twinge of irritation pricks at you.

They smiled coyly, tucking their hair behind their ears as they leaned in closer to him, but Simon remained unaffected, his gaze fixed straight ahead. Taking a deep breath, you clear your throat, drawing Simon's attention to you. "Getting sick?" he asks, his concern genuine.

"No, just thirsty,"

"The walk isn't too far,"

The girls continued to eye fuck him, their jealousy evident as they shot glances in your direction. As the elevator descended, one of the girls spoke up with a tone dripping with disgust, "Are you guys together?" Simon quirked an eyebrow, his gaze briefly flickering down to them before he replied bluntly, "Yes."

The chime of the elevator interrupted the moment as you reached the lobby floor. The girls scoffed and one of them rolled her eyes at you before they hastily exited the elevator. You furrowed your brows, as you turned to Simon, walking side by side with him.

“I think they were asking if we were a couple. They seemed interested in you,”

Simon quirked his brow as he looked down at you, “Interested in me? Thought they meant if we came together,” You couldn't help but laugh, shaking your head. “Do you not have many interactions with women?” you teased lightly.

“Only the ones I need to kill,” Simon replied, his gaze lingering on your smile for a few seconds before tearing them away to open the lobby door. You laughed again, appreciating his dry humor as he held the door open for you.

You both settled into the beach chairs, the sun casting a warm glow over the sand. With a relaxed sigh, you slip off your sheer covering, feeling the gentle breeze against your skin.

“You want me to grab us some food while you save our chairs?”

Simon nods, reaching into his pocket to retrieve his wallet. He hands you his black card “Just don't go too far,” his tone casual but with a hint of concern.

You return his smile reassuringly, pointing towards the small bar just a few feet away. “I won't be far,” you assure him, before turning to walk towards the bar. As you go, you notice his eyes following you, a silent watchfulness ensuring your safety. When your back is turned, his gaze lingers on your medusa tattoo, mirroring his own, etched across your skin with shared significance.

Something stirs within him as he watches you, a strange mixture of familiarity and connection tugging at his chest. His attention is abruptly diverted when a girl suddenly steps into his line of sight, obstructing his view of you as she settles into your vacant chair. He quickly looks past her, making sure you're still within sight, even though his gaze was only momentarily blocked.

You stand a few feet away, discreetly observing Simon engaged in conversation with another girl while you wait for your drink at the bar. As you watch them interact, a subtle tightness grips your chest, a feeling you can't quite place. Is it jealousy? No, it couldn't be, right? You remind yourself that you don't have any romantic feelings for him, at least not consciously.

Yet, despite your rationalization, you can't shake off the discomfort that settles within you. You find yourself analyzing every gesture, every smile she flashes at him, unable to ignore the nagging sensation in the pit of your stomach. You take a deep breath, trying to quell the unease that threatens to consume you.

Finally, your drink arrives, providing a welcomed distraction. You force a smile as you thank the bartender, but your attention is still drawn back to Simon and the girl. You silently berate yourself for feeling this way, for allowing something as trivial as a conversation to affect you so deeply. But deep down, you can't deny the undeniable pull of something stirring within you, something you're not quite ready to confront.

You dip your finger into your drink, watching intently as you wait to see if your nail polish changes color. It's a precaution you always take, ever since you started using a special nail polish that detects the presence of roofies in drinks. Being cautious of any drink you didn't prepare yourself has become second nature to you.

After downing your fruity drink, your sliders are ready, and you startle when you hear Simon's voice beside you. Looking up, you furrow your brows in confusion. "Thought you were saving the chairs?" you question.

Simon lets out a sigh and leans on the counter. "Some girl was yappin' my bloody ear off," he explains, annoyance evident in his tone. "She asked for my number, and I gave her Johnny’s. They'd be perfect for each other." You laugh and grab the sliders off the counter.

As you both walk back to your chairs and start eating the sliders, time seems to pass effortlessly. You engage in easy conversation, enjoying each other's company amidst the beautiful view and weather.

As the sun begins to set, you both take seats at the bar and order drinks. Simon observes as you dip your finger into your drink, prompting his curiosity. "Why’d you do that?" he asks.

"My nail polish checks for roofies. Want me to check yours?" you tease, offering to inspect his drink. Simon playfully pushes his drink towards you. "Contaminate my drink with your dirty fingers, love," he jokes, a smirk playing on his lips.

You stick your pinky into his cup, and both of you watch as the polish changes color. Your heart sinks as the realization sets in, and you exchange a worried glance with Simon.

Simon's gaze shifts to the bartender, who's watching him intently, as if waiting for Simon to take a sip of the drink. Without hesitation, Simon places a hand on the small of your back, swiftly pulling out his gun from his fanny pack and firing a silenced round directly at the bartender's crotch.

He screams out and simon ushers you away quickly, his hand still firmly on your back as you speed-walk back to the hotel. Once inside your room, you lock the door behind you, adding an extra safety lock you brought along. Simon moves around the room with his gun drawn, ensuring it's clear.

"Why the fuck was he trying to roofie you?" You demand, your voice laced with anger an fear as you close the curtains ensuring your safety.

"To have easier access to you," he replies after taking a breath and your heart sinks knowing the weight of your past catching up to you.

"You think it's the contract?" you ask, your voice trembling with uncertainty. Simon nods solemnly, his expression mirroring your concern. Feeling overwhelmed, you sit down on the edge of the bed, tears welling up in your eyes. Fear grips your heart, weighing heavily on your shoulders as you curse softly under your breath.

Simon approaches you slowly, his first time witnessing you in such a vulnerable state. As he sits beside you on the bed, his eyes soften with empathy, taking in your tear-streaked face. You look up at him, feeling a mixture of despair and desperation, and you sniffle softly.

“I can’t go back there, Simon. I can't go back to those people, I can’t go back to him,” you admit, your voice trembling with fear and anguish. Seeing you in distress tugs at something deep within him, a desire to protect and reassure you.

Simon instinctively grabs his jacket and wraps it around you, offering what little comfort he can. As tears stream down your cheeks, Simon watches helplessly, unsure of how to comfort you. He places a gentle hand on your shoulder, silently conveying his support.

“I promise, Y/n, you’re safe. As long as you are with me, they won’t get to you,” Simon reassures you, his voice firm but gentle. But you shake your head, unable to shake off the fear that grips you.

"They already targeted you once. If I hadn't checked your drink, they would have had both of us. Who knows what they would have done to you..." Your voice falters as Simon cuts you off by wrapping his arms around you in a warm embrace.

You initially resist, feeling conflicted and overwhelmed, but as his arms envelop you, a sense of safety washes over you. “Just trust me, Y/n,” he murmurs softly, his words a gentle plea for you to find solace in his presence.

Your protests die on your lips as you lean into his embrace, allowing yourself to be held by him. In that moment, surrounded by his comforting presence, you find solace in the warmth of his embrace, feeling protected and cared for despite the turmoil swirling around you.

After a few moments, you gently wipe your wet eyes with the sleeve of Simon's jacket, the comforting scent of his cologne enveloping you. Gathering yourself, you stand up and make your way to the bathroom, exchanging your swimsuit for pajamas. You wrap Simon's jacket around you once more, finding solace in its warmth as you lie down on the bed.

“I’m going to stay up and watch the door, just in case they have something planned. At least one of us will catch it. I’ll look for the earliest flight we can take back home,” Simon informs you, his voice laced with determination.

You nod in understanding, feeling a sense of relief knowing that he's taking proactive measures to keep you both safe. With a heavy sigh, you rest your head on the pillow, exhaustion weighing heavily on you as sleep quickly overtakes you.

As Simon searches for flights on his laptop, his gaze occasionally drifts up to your sleeping form. He watches as your body rises and falls with each gentle breath, your features softened in the glow of the room. His eyes linger on your slightly puffy eyes from earlier.

He can't help but question his own actions, his unexpected urge to comfort you. Physical touch has always been something he avoided, a boundary he rarely allowed others to cross, even hating when Johnny would pat him on the back. Yet, in that vulnerable moment, he found himself reaching out to you without a second thought. Was it because you were crying? Because he wanted to offer you solace?

The internal conflict rages within him as he wrestles with his emotions. After all, you were just his doctor, someone he needed to keep safe for his own benefit. But as he watches you sleep, a flicker of something unfamiliar stirs within him, a growing awareness that perhaps his feelings towards you run deeper than he cares to admit.

Black market tag list: @shinchanboi @talooolaaloolla @lieutenantlashfaz @neothewitch @birdienotting @jupiternighties @samiiii333 @silverianni @elowynnlane @lotionlamp @ssc7514 @iloveloveeducks @rejectedbytheempty @whos-fran @sillyfrann @aykiraa @strawberrygato @yyiikes

Comment, DM, or send in an ask if you want to be added or removed from the list <3

166 notes · View notes

qqueenofhades · 1 month

Note

Do you have any idea why people are so fixated on Biden’s age but not Trumps? I know he’s 81, but Trump isn’t exactly far behind at 77: in fact he’s the second oldest. This keeps stumping me: it’s not a big gap in age

There are a few reasons for this, yes. As you might imagine, all of them are very stupid.

First and most critically is the way Trump's violent extremism has been completely neutered, mainlined, and normalized by the mainstream media. That's why we still have said media largely treating this as a normal presidential election, instead of that of a successful incumbent against literally the most deranged, unfit, treasonous, criminally and civilly liable, already-led-an-attempted-coup, deep-in-hock-to-Russia, adjudicated rapist, 91-felony-counts-indicted career cheater, grifter, and failed businessman who nonetheless appeals to the still-very-powerful isolationist, racist, white supremacist, and Christian nationalist elements in this country. Crucially, he also appeals to the billionaire class that owns the media and who will benefit from Trumpian tax, economic, and labor policies (especially now that Biden used the SOTU to once more call for a minimum 25% corporate/billionaire tax rate). The media also openly wants Trump back in office, as all the shitass insane things he did (and will do) are good for ratings, and allows them to act like the Principled Truth Tellers, instead of shilling so hard for a greasy orange fascist that we may well lose our 250+ year old democratic republic if he, God forbid, is elected again. Profit is more, well, profitable than truthful reporting, so the media has been completely disincentivized to cover this in any accurate way. We presume they will all wake up with shocked Pikachu faces when Trump packs them off to concentration camps with everyone else he hates, as he has openly promised to do.

Because we're also starting from an underlying premise that everything is the Democrats' fault, this means the party should be blamed for running said successful incumbent for reelection, even if he has low poll numbers which have in fact largely been produced by the media's relentlessly stupid and dishonest coverage. I was reading an article in the AP today about how 15 major student/youth groups have endorsed Biden and plan to work for his reelection; even so, the author could.not.stop going on and on about how Zomgz Old Biden was and how supposedly most Americans thought he was mentally unfit for the job (which is a straight-up lie produced by the endless "Zomgz Biden Old!!!!" handwringing have been subjected to without end. Weird how that works). That is also why we have all those idiotic "Biden should step down!!!" opinion pieces by Very Smart Pundits, notwithstanding the fact that a) it would be completely insane, b) it would be completely insane, and c) somehow nobody seems to think that hey, maybe the Republicans shouldn't nominate an openly seditionist generally god-awful fascist shitweasel who has already been the worst thing to happen to American politics in the twenty-first century (I'd say also the twentieth century, but unfortunately that was when we had Reagan).

In other words, Trump is just taken as a given, while the media spends all its time attacking Biden, calling on Biden to step down, amplifying "concerns" about Biden's age, producing idiotic narratives about Biden, distorting or ignoring the things Biden has done, and then writing concern-troll navel-gazing pieces earnestly wondering why people don't like Biden. (Apparently people's opinion of Biden drastically improves when they learn what he's actually accomplished, but the relentless parade of lies somehow makes it difficult for them to learn what those actually are. Again, weird.) Likewise the endless coverage we get of Biden's smallest slips or stumbles, while the media resolutely ignores Trump's full-on recent descent into absolute raving dementia. Hello, double standards!

This is also fueled by a heaping helping of racism and misogyny, because if God forbid Biden does die in office, what happens? The vice president takes over! We have a clear and constitutionally established precedent for this that has happened many times before! Except, oh no scary!!!, Biden's vice president is a brown woman, and that means SHE WOULD BE IN CHARGE!!!! TERRIFYING!!! So all the scaremongering around Biden's age, aside from being generally dishonest and stupid, has as its implicit message that sure, maybe you're fine voting for an old white man, but are you really comfortable doing that if it means a brown woman might also have the chance to be president?? I DON'T THINK YOU SHOULD BE!!!!!

Anyway, yes. It's a complete straw man argument, it's fueled by bad faith and stupidity, and as with most things in the current American media environment, it's geared toward helping Trump win. Because you know. Something something BUT HER EEEEEEEEEEEEMAILS BUT BIDEN WAS OOOOOOOOOOOOLD.

#anonymous #ask #politics for ts

162 notes · View notes

yoona-jnr · 2 months

Text

Don’t - Bryson Tiller

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Female Reader

Prompt: “If you were mine you would not get the same, if you were mine you would top everything.”

His reaction to you getting stood up by your boyfriend for the third time.

Tags: Fluff, humour, canon based plot with a slight change by the author

Baby <;3: Sorry hun, I won’t be able to make it. I promise I’ll make it up to you next time - 7:19 pm

After reading the text countless times, you find yourself sinking into a state of frustration. This was what, the third time he’s canceled on you? Ever since he started his new job he’s been supposedly “too busy” to meet up. ‘Too busy my ass, more like too busy sucking some other bitches tits.’ You wouldn’t be surprised if it was the girl you saw on his phone not too long ago.

Piece of shit.

Shoving your phone into your pocket, you attempt to push away the pain that grips your heart. Questions swirl in your mind- does he not love you anymore? Was the bond you shared not as special as you thought it was? He’d always tell you that you were his everything, and that the sole purpose of his hard work was to make you happy. Had he lied about everything? Initially, it was amazing, he was amazing. However, gradually, deceit crept in, and his friends began to exert a negative influence.

From a distance, a voice calls out your name, interrupting your deep contemplation. “Wha-” You quickly straighten your posture and detach yourself from the wall, using your sleeve to wipe away any evidence of tears from your eyes. With a hint of surprise in your voice, you acknowledge his presence. “Nanami! I didn’t expect to see you here. Did you just get back from a mission?” Upon observing your appearance, he takes a brief moment to scan your face, his gaze shifting from your carefully applied makeup to the outfit you had chosen to wear.

Nanami lets out an exasperated sigh the moment he realizes what exactly happened, again. Given the stark contrast in your personalities, nobody would have anticipated the unlikely friendship that had blossomed between the two of you during your time at Jujutsu High. While he tended to keep to himself, you, on the other hand, made it your personal mission to immerse yourself in his life, initially causing him great annoyance. Your persistent efforts to befriend him bore a resemblance to Gojo’s approach, albeit in a more subdued manner, and surprisingly, you proved to be quite affable and easy to get along with.

“Again?” He asks, his voice carrying a gentle tone, yet unable to conceal the underlying annoyance that tinges his words. “Yeah..” You muttered, sighing as you adjusted your attire. “I was supposed to go on a date with him, but I bet he’s somewhere in the city fucking some bitch at his new workplace.” Nanami responds with a hum, and a tranquil silence descends upon the two of you. Although such moments of silence would typically be uncomfortable, the quietude shared between you and Nanami always manages to provide a peculiar sense of comfort.

“Would you like to have dinner with me?” His voice disrupts the quiet atmosphere, causing you to react with surprise. “Wha-” – “It’d be a shame if you went home after putting this much effort into your appearance, don’t you think?” He nods towards your outfit. “..I guess, but I didn’t bring any money with me. My boyfriend was supposed t-” – “Boyfriend?” He quirks a brow, folding his arms. “As I’ve told you before (Name)-san, it’s best if you reconsider your relationship with him. Especially now.” His direct approach and candid advice catches you off guard, making your body slump forward. “You’re right. But fuck does it hurt knowing that he probably doesn’t give a shit.”

With a gentle touch, he raises his hand and places a finger under your chin, tilting your head upwards. The intimate gesture causes a rush of warmth to flood your cheeks, rendering you speechless. The words you had been on the verge of uttering vanish into thin air, leaving you captivated by his presence. However, as swiftly as his touch appeared, it disappeared just as quickly, his hand retreating to his side. Simultaneously, he takes a step back and turns around to lead the way. ”Dinner’s on me,” he declares, abruptly halting his steps and flashing you a look over his shoulder. “No need to worry about the price.” — It was around 9:00 pm by the time you decided to head home, Nanami being the first to offer a ride to which you happily agreed to.

As you sit in the passenger seat, you narrow your eyes at him, suspicion bubbling in your stomach. “..This isn’t the direction to my condo.” His expression remains inscrutable due to the dim lighting, and he simply shrugs in response to your questioning gaze. “Before I drop you home, I have something to show you.” Intrigued, you raise an eyebrow, your curiosity piqued to its fullest extent. “Oh- what is it?” Nanami shoots you a single glance, “You’ll see.” Feeling a mix of frustration and anticipation, you let out a sigh and allow your body to sink into the comfort of the car seat. You are well aware of his unwavering patience, so it wouldn’t matter if you kept asking.

Nanami doesn’t remember when he slowly started letting his guard down around you. But he does remember the very first conversation the two of you had, and it was nearly ruined by him. He wanted to be alone during his break time, but like a pest, you kept coming back regardless of the many attempts to drive you away. Your unwavering persistence shone through as you continuously visited his office with a warm smile, gradually chipping away at the walls he had built around himself.

Reflecting on this pivotal moment, he finds himself momentarily distracted from the road ahead, stealing a glance at you. Your gaze was fixed on the passing cars outside, the city lights casting a soft glow on your features, seamlessly blending with the hues of your complexion perfectly. The sight of you, so effortlessly beautiful, causes a subtle flush to creep up to the tip of his ears, a physical manifestation of the emotional impact you had on him.

Each time you stepped into his office, the sound of your voice calling out “Nanami!” would fill the room, accompanied by the aroma of the lunch you had brought to share. He never said much, but despite his lack of words, he always made a gesture to let you know that he was listening to your rambles. Even if it was a bit of a distraction from his work, though he never voiced it out loud. — Nanami gazes at his wristwatch, observing the gradual movement of the clock’s hands. The realization dawns upon him that you might not come, albeit being ten minutes behind schedule than your usual arrival time. ‘Where are you?’ Perplexed, he halts, almost losing grip of the pen he clutches. Why was he keeping track of how late you are? It’s not like he cares whether or not you show up. You are merely categorized as another bothersome, irritating individual, akin to Gojo, whom he reluctantly accommodates from time to time.

Eventually, you arrive, hands empty, no lunch in sight. ‘Ah,’ he thinks the second he notices you walking in without anything in your arms. He shouldn’t have made it a habit to rely on you for bringing food, as he hadn’t thought of bringing anything today because of it. “You won’t believe what happened.” You say as you settle on the soft couch adjacent to his desk, a piece of furniture he definitely didn’t replace because of your previous complaints about its stiffness.

He hums, redirecting his focus to the various folders spread out on his desk. In response, you interpret this as a cue to continue, leaning your face against one of the pillows. That he also definitely didn’t buy because you complained about the lack of comfort. “He stood me up last night,” you grumble, confirming his suspicions. It was only a matter of time before you mentioned him again. After all, that insufferable, undeserving, prick of a boyfriend of yours was the only reason why you’d sometimes show up late or bummed out.

“Did I not explicitly tell you to end the relationship?” He raises an eyebrow in your direction, his narrowing gaze making you look away, causing beads of sweat to form on your forehead. “Um- well-,” you stammer, desperately trying to divert your attention elsewhere. “You wouldn’t mind if I take a short nap, do you?” He hums again, not bothering to question you any further. “Thanks.” You sink into the comfort of the couch, allowing your eyelids to gently close as exhaustion engulfs your body.

It’s remarkable to consider that he would eventually find someone who would feel at ease enough to sleep in his office. It’s even more astonishing when one realizes that he no longer has any reason to question any of your actions. In fact, having you around became something that was far from being a nuisance.

Nanami rises from his seat, undoing the buttons of his suit as soon as he detects the sound of your breathing. He quietly makes his way to where you lay peacefully, observing the way your hair slightly sticks to the side of your face. He doesn’t even notice the way it takes him a moment before resuming his movement, carefully draping his blazer over you. — “We’re here, close your eyes.” – “Oh, okay,” you comply, closing your eyes. The anticipation builds as the car comes to a stop in a deserted parking lot, surrounded by the peaceful ambiance of the park on the outskirts of the bustling city. He gets out, rounding the vehicle before opening your door. The soft touch of his hand enveloping yours sends a rush of warmth through your body, a gesture that is both unexpected and endearing. The simple act of holding hands, something so intimate and personal, takes on a deeper meaning in this moment. It signifies a level of closeness and connection that goes beyond words, a silent reassurance of the trust that you can undoubtedly give him as he guides you out carefully.

“You sure you’re not taking me somewhere just to kill me? Is this revenge for always disturbing you during your break?” You playfully ask, laughing as he slightly tightens the grip he has on your hand. “Oh, how I wish I could.” – “Hey-!” The warmth emanating from his body as he draws near causes you to pause, the realization of how close he was standing suddenly seeps into your head. “Pardon me.” Was the only warning he offered before lifting you up, placing you on the hood of his car as he makes room to sit beside you. “Open your eyes.”

As your eyes flutter open, your words are stolen from your lips by the breathtaking sight of stars strewn across the night sky, more than you have ever witnessed before. “You-” – “I found this spot while I was out on a drive,” he responds, his attention fixed on the celestial display before you. “I know the dinner we had might not have entirely cheered you up, but,” he turns to face you, a subtle smile spreading across his features as he notices the fascination on your face. “I hope that this view brings you some solace.”

“Solace? Are you kidding? I love it!” You chuckle, playfully tapping him on the shoulder. “And here I thought you might have actually wanted to murder me.” He gives you a look and rolls his eyes. “Let’s not make light of that.” – “About what, you killing me? You can’t lie, I have been pretty annoying. I’m surprised you haven’t told me to fuck off like how you usually do with Gojo.”

“Now that you mention it, there were times that I-” before he could continue, you swiftly cover his mouth with your hand, abruptly halting his sentence. “Okay, you don’t need to answer or you’ll hurt my feelings.” You laugh again, but your fun gets cut short by the feeling of him leaning in closer, making no motion to remove your hand from his lips.

The sensation of his breath grazing your skin causes a blush to creep up your neck. At that moment, you can’t help but notice how close he was to you. Slowly, he brings your hand down, allowing him to speak once more. “Are you planning on breaking up with him any time soon?” Without much thought, you nodded mindlessly, too focused on the fact that he was leaning in even closer. There’s no way he doesn’t notice it right-?

“Cause I must say, it’s a shame..” He brings your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss on top of your knuckles. “If you were mine.. I assure you that you would never feel this way.”

#jujutsu kaisen #nanami kento #jjk nanami #nanami x reader #nanami x you #jujutsu kaisen nanami #nanami fluff #nanami fanfic

168 notes · View notes

kthecutest · 7 months

Note

yūka i need your stepbro!k thoughts i'm so h word right now i need k so bad i'm going mad crazy !

YES MA'AM I AM HERE TO DELIEVERRRR ᕙ( •̀ ᗜ •́ )ᕗ

┏━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━┓

Pairing : Stepbro!k x innocent!f!reader Genre : NSFW (づ ᴗ _ᴗ)づ 🥕 Warnings : Panty Stealing, Impregnation, Unprotected sex (stay safe peeps), jealous sex, drugs, aphrodisiac, somnophillia, CNC A/N ೃ⁀➷ MINORS DNI

Stepbro!k who sneaks into your room when you’re showering or you’re out with friends, just to grab a piece of your worn underwear – he can’t have enough of that smell, the smell that makes his body overwhelm in heat. But sniffing wasn’t just enough for him, he’d lick and suck all over the area where the panties stuck to your entrance, while he proceeds to rut his leaking cock into the sheets like a dog in heat. And it isn’t just the sheets, he’d love to see every object you own covered in his cream so you’d end up finding some sticky unknown substances on your pillow or your study desk.

Stepbro!k who slips in sleeping pills and aphrodisiacs into the dishes he’d make for you. When the pill finally took effect and you’re laid on your bed, body limp and heated, you felt like your entire body was burning yet you were in a deep slumber – that’s when he slips his hard length through your entrance and pump you full of cum – “fuck.. take my cum baby.. take my cum~!” – the next morning you woke up with semen leaking out of you. He didn’t even bother to clean up; a little souvenir for you I guess. This left you confused, believing your sweet step brother would never do something like this, you couldn’t catch a single idea on who kept violating you every night.

Stepbro!k who keeps an entire folder of just your photos in his laptop. The photos of you covered in cum, his seed dripping out your gaping pussy, after he’s fucked you through the night – all taken so vividly and pasted all over the folder. The photos of you in the shower and the sneaky snapshots he took of you through the slight opening of your bedroom door, whenever you were touching yourself. Is the slight opening of the door intentional or not? Well who knows. But you’d definitely love to put on a freak show for your godly handsome stepbrother that’s for sure.

Stepbro!k who often gets jealous when the guy friends he invites to his house would get touchy with you or when you have guys over for school work or sleepovers. He’ll drag you out of the male crowd and eye you up and down with a frown on his face. “Oh cmon nii chan! I promise they’re nice” – of course he knows that but he can’t help being so possessive when you’re dressed like a whore and you have the best pussy in the world.

Stepbro!k whose eyes started to dilate whenever he sees you being too close or touchy with any of the younger boys. When they’re hugging you and their arms are all over your boobs, them pressing their hips into your back with the excuse of hugging; K had to clench his hand so tight to not lash out at anyone. But all the restricted temper would be released when he gets to manhandle you at night, you still under the effect of pills he fed. He’d fill you to the brim, shooting his seed right into your womb – with the only intention of getting his step sister pregnant.

Stepbro!k who finally got caught in the middle of pounding you full of his cum.

You threw aways the food he made that evening, suspecting something was wrong with it based on how you kept falling into deep slumbers every night for no reason. And now here you are, eyes widened in shock and fear, tears in the corners of your eyes; but an underlying pleasure and satisfaction of the situation.

Why were you even liking this right now, the fact that you just found out your step brother was the one violating your pussy every night and that tonight is another repetition of the process? Maybe, deep down, you’ve always wanted to be stuffed full by his huge cock.

Through your weak protests, K held you down with his immense strength as he continued to fuck into you at a faster pace.

“Now that you’ve found out, just take everything I have to give, like a good girl, little slut”

#&team #andteam #&team imagines #&team scenarios #&team fanfic #&team x reader #&team hard thoughts #&team hard hours #&team smut #&team k #&team k smut #koga yudai #k #k smut

275 notes · View notes

lordofthecherubs · 1 month

Text

Hello Euphoria [Part 2]

“You can tell me how you’re really feeling,” He said, attempting to meet your eyes. “I promise.”

His words helped to push you in the direction you needed to go with his conversation. Ripping off the bandaid. Confessing.

Tell him how you’re really feeling.

“I like you, Arthur.”

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x F!Reader

Warnings/Tags: 18+ MDNI. Smut. Slight Exhibitionism. Slow burn burned. Miscommunication.

The morning sun had a particular way of forcing its beams of light into a room, abruptly waking whoever inhabited it up with a striking light to their face. Along with that, the sound of people chatting and wagons moving product along a muddy ground seemed to be nonstop once the day started. Clearly, the gang wanted to get an early start to their chores, otherwise you wouldn’t have been disturbed in the midst of your sleep.

Just five more minutes, you pleaded with yourself.

Opting to keep your eyes closed after having been nearly blinded by the rays the sun had provided earlier, your bearings began coming to you, despite your efforts to push them off and remain in a blissful state of slumber. Turning yourself on your side, you felt a gentle warmth in your bed beside you. This feeling, while unfamiliar to your usual morning routine, was not unpleasant. Leaning into it, you sighed out contently in your attempt to return to dreamland, hardly noticing the sound of quiet breathing filling your ears behind you.

Breathing?

Eyes shooting open with a newfound sense of urgency, you quickly sat up in the bed, scanning your surroundings. The space you were in was foreign to you. For starters, it had four walls and a roof over your head, far different from the usual scene of your tent nearly falling off its post over your makeshift bed. Not only that, but there was decor lain about— a dresser on one far corner of the room, and a nightstand that had a lamp along with an all too familiar hat beside where you were previously sleeping.

Then, your eyes met soft chestnut hair. Was that… Arthur?

The cowboy, still deep into slumber, let out faint puffs of air with every breath he took. His skin appeared smooth to the touch, and your hand itched to reach out and find out if there was any truth to that thought. However, your body had different plans. All at once, you felt an onslaught of pain and discomfort, bringing back vague memories of the night before. Most of which were blurry, and rather snapshots of a moment instead of a reeling recollection of what had happened. All of this, with the added twinge of pain in your head and stomach, made you grow dizzy where you sat.

Last you remembered, Dutch was going on about how the camp was appearing sluggish due to the sweltering heat. Then, he’d sent you and Arthur out to Valentine’s saloon. Once you got there, Arthur ordered you a revolting drink; just the thought of it alone was enough to make you wince as your stomach turned.

The puzzle pieces began to connect in your still aching head.

You settled on putting the blame of your current predicament on having had too much to drink. Though you typically weren’t much of a drinker, you figured there had to be an underlying reasoning behind why you bit off more than you knew you could chew.

Another glance at the cowboy beside you. There was no doubt that his presence had something to do with it.

While you weren’t the kind of person who cared too deeply what others thought of you, you’ve always wanted to be someone that Arthur thought highly of. He was a noble man, by your standards. The way you felt towards him wasn’t anything like the way you felt for others in the gang. Yes, you cared about them as if they were your own family, but with Arthur, it was different. He was always the person that looked out for you, even when you assured him you could handle yourself. There was a certain softness you had when it came to him, and if you weren’t careful, it would consume you whole.

With the minutes passing by in your lost thoughts, the cowboy stirred in his sleep, looking as though he might wake up. Suddenly, you were filled with the overwhelming urge to be anywhere but here.

It’s not as if you didn’t want to be around him. God, you’d give everything to be with him forever if he’d have you. But, you felt embarrassed of yourself, and of what you possibly did the night before.

As your eyes averted to the space between your bodies, you knew Arthur hadn’t gotten into bed with you on his own will, especially while you were under the influence of alcohol. That wasn’t the kind of man he was. That’s why you liked him.

Slowly, you pushed the covers of the bed away from yourself, urging yourself to get over the sticky feeling of yesterdays clothes as you attempted to crawl to the foot of the bed undetected. This task proved itself to be easier said than done, especially in the case that the person you were trying not to be detected by had his wits about him at all times, even in his sleep. Surprisingly, you made it to your desired location outside of the bed without too much disruption, looking around the bed for your shoes as you readied yourself to leave.

While you reached for the pair of boots that you assumed Arthur had taken off for you after you’d fallen asleep, a gravelly voice sounded behind you, causing you to pause your actions and freeze on the spot like a deer caught in the headlights.

“You awake already, cowpoke?”

Of course, how could you turn your back on a man such as Arthur Morgan and expect he wouldn’t notice you there? Turning your head in the direction of the voice, you were met with the sharp feeling of regret— and a twinge of heat boiling in your stomach. The cowboy sat upwards on the bed, strong arms carrying his weight as they pushed against the bed to aid him in this action. His hair was messy in a way that was perfect at the same time, and his eyes were half-lidded and tired, just as they had been the day before when Dutch woke him up for this mission.

This mission, that lead you to the situation you were in now, standing across from Arthur with your shoes in your hands and a guilty look on your face. To someone on the outside looking in, it would appear that something completely different had happened here. Perhaps they’d even expect you to waltz out of the building in a walk of shame.

When met with silence as an answer to his question, Arthur spoke up again.

“Are you… leavin’?”

Your heart couldn’t help but break at the faint sound of disappointment in his tone. He wanted you to stay.

In the past, you would have brushed off any suggestions of Arthur making an advance towards you. In your mind, it just wouldn’t make sense. How could he want to be anything more than friends with you? You were just another member of the gang, it was highly possible he didn’t see you as any different than he saw someone like Hosea or Tilly. Regardless of this, there was no denying those impressions of flirtatious nature now. Not when he continued to sit in the bed, looking as beautiful as he did, without any attempt to hide the look of dismay on his face.

Arthur was a good man. In all likelihood, he was the best man you’d ever known in your life. You trusted him far more than you’d trust anyone else. He looked out for you, made sure you were doing alright, didn’t let anyone in the gang pick on you. So why was it so hard for you to face him right now? What was stalling you from just telling him how you really feel?

The sound of movement signaled to you that he was getting out of bed himself, and you realized you still hadn’t said anything to him yet. Swallowing down feelings of anxiety and bashfulness, you opened your mouth to speak.

“I…” As the word left your mouth, your thoughts lingered in your mind. What could you say to him? Thanks for taking care of me while I was blackout drunk, Arthur. Sorry I can’t muster up the courage to say anything to you right now. Maybe later?

That would never work.

“If you’re worryin’ that you did anything you might regret, there’s no need.” Arthur sighed out, reaching to grab his hat as he threw his legs over the side of the bed. “It might not seem like it, but I wouldn’t—“

“I know you wouldn’t, Arthur.”

Finally, he looked at you again. Though, he didn’t say anything, clearly waiting for you to continue in your words.

“I just wanted to thank you. For taking care of me— I mean.” You nervously said, scratching the back of your neck as a heat of embarrassment began to rise.

Whatever you said must have been amusing, because Arthur let out a laugh as he stood up from the bed. “Thank me? All I did is what you asked me to do. No sense in thankin’ me for that.”

As the cowboy put his boots on, you couldn’t help finding yourself back in your usual place of staring. Every action done by Arthur was captivating to you. And, you’re sure the long drag of his fingers against the leather is not done on purpose, the same way the sudden weakness in your knees was not an instinctual reaction. Shaking your head free of thoughts that did not benefit the current situation, you tried to round up something to say to him.

But it was too late.

Already outside the front door of the room, Arthur cleared his throat.

“I best get goin’ then…”

Before you could even implore him to stay, the cowboy was gone. There was a sudden coldness to the room now that he was no longer in it, causing you to wrap your arms around yourself softly. Probably one of the closest opportunities you ever had to tell Arthur how you truly feel, and you blew it by daydreaming about him when he was right in front of you. Perhaps if you had said something, it wouldn’t be a daydream anymore. It would be real.

That statement alone was enough to get the gears turning in your head again.

Maybe it didn’t have to end there.

With a newfound energy despite your hangover, you quickly made your way out of the room, using the railings of the stairwell to help guide you down the stairs and out of the hotel as fast as your legs could carry you. Once through the front door, you scanned the area for any traces of Arthur. Just outside the saloon, your horse stood alone. But, there were fresh footprints in the shape of a horseshoe that had traveled away from the spot next to it— a sign to which direction the cowboy had taken to vacate the premises. For once, you were thankful for the muddy streets that Valentine provided, hopping onto the back of your horse to follow the tracks wherever they would take you.

This process, while somewhat difficult, was not impossible. Almost immediately you noticed that Arthur had taken a different route than usual to exit the city. You willed your horse to keep a steady, yet swift pace to keep up with the path. If he was going back to the camp, you wanted to catch him before he got there. For the sake of him as well as yourself, the conversation you wanted to have was not one either of you would be too keen on having in front of the rest of the gang.

As the sound of vendors and chit-chat began to pale in comparison to your horses footsteps hitting the ground, you knew you were making progress in your mission to find Arthur. Wherever he was going, it was not close to camp. For a slight moment, you felt that perhaps this was a bad idea. Maybe, you had really upset him. Maybe he didn’t want to see you at all.

Shaking those thoughts from your head, you scanned the dirt beneath you for more telltale signs of where the cowboy had gone. Working along the path, you found yourself in the Heartlands, where previously muddy footprints were now faded into slight indentions on dirt roads. He couldn’t be too far now, you were only just minutes behind him if anything.

Suddenly, a familiar noise filled your ears. A sound only someone as observant as yourself would have picked up on, the particular way Arthur urged his horse to continue moving forward when it sensed that there was some kind of threat around. Silently, you thanked whichever God above who was responsible for this distraction along the road, because there was no telling how much longer this semi-chase would have gone on without it.

“Easy boy!”

Just as you rounded the corner of a small hill, you couldn’t help but beam at the sight before you. Arthurs hat sat on the ground along with him, evidently having been kicked off his horse due to whatever had spooked it. The cowboy, looking as defeated as he had prior to leaving the hotel, groaned from his spot on the dirt path at the sight of his horse continuing off without him, whinnying as it went.

This was your chance.

Slowly, you tugged on the reigns of your horse to urge it to continue forward leisurely, hoping that whatever had scared of Arthurs wouldn’t do the same to your own next.

“Need a hand?”

At the sound of your voice, Arthur snapped his head in your direction, almost as if it was a second nature response to your presence. For a moment, he eyed the outstretched hand that came from where you sat on top of your horse, a small smile on your face. Had he not been so aware of his actions around you, he would have let on how weak even a grin in his direction by you would make him. So, instead of revealing that side to you just yet, he opted for reaching over to grab his hat on the dirt beside him, placing it on his head with a soft sigh.

Then, he met your eyes.

There was no world where he didn’t give in to you.

“Suppose so.”

With this, Arthurs calloused hands reached forward and grabbed hold of your soft, yet firm ones, using it as leverage to ease himself upwards from the ground. Once he had finally made it off the ground, the two of you were detached— perhaps far too soon for either of your likings.

“Must’ve been a snake or somethin’.” He quietly said, hands resting comfortably on his belt as he looked in the direction the creature had run off to.

“Can’t say I blame him, the way those things slither around is real creepy.”

Finally, he smiled. There was that playful Arthur you knew.

The cowboy watched as you suddenly moved from your spot on your horse, sitting on the back of it, patting the now empty saddle in front of you. Clearly, he had confusion written all over his face, because you laughed and opened your mouth to explain to him what you had in mind.

“Listen, you and I both know just how fast that horse can run. Just ask the countless times I’ve watched you fire at the O’Driscolls while making ground at the same time,” You paused in your commentary when he half-smiled while shaking his head. “You can take mine for a ride to find him. Promise she won’t give you too much trouble.”

Arthur didn’t immediately give in to your offer, remaining where he stood as if debating on whether or not this was truly a good idea. Slowly, he reached for the saddle to help himself onto the horse, uncertainty filling his face. He knew you had a point, this was the smartest way to go about catching that horse before someone else did. But, was it a wise to be this close to you again after last time?

From where you sat behind him, you couldn’t stop the smile that made its way to your face. Having this proximity to Arthur again would give you the opportunity you needed to fix things; and maybe even gather the courage to bring up another topic that’s been weighing in on your mind.

“So, while I’m fightin’ those damned O’Driscoll’s, you’re sat pretty watchin’ me?”

“Guess you’re a good view.” You fired back, a laugh escaping your lips.

The cowboy smiled to himself and moved his hands to tightly grasp onto the reigns of your horse, readying himself to take off. Though he didn’t say anything, the way he looked back to make sure you were ready signaled to you that you should probably hold onto something in order to not find yourself in a similar situation to the one you spotted Arthur in. It had been a while since you rode on the back of someone else’s horse, so you paused for a moment to decide your next move.

You could clutch onto the back of the saddle, though it wouldn’t provide you much support. Arthur must have sensed your hesitation, because in one bold move, he wordlessly reached behind him and grabbed onto one of your hands, placing it on his midsection for you to hold onto. When you were both settled, Arthur whipped the reigns, setting off to your desired location.

With the sound of the breeze blowing while your horse gained speed, you couldn’t help but notice that this ride was similar to the one into Valentine the day before. Quiet. But the silence was comfortable, almost too much so. Arthur whistled a couple times with each area he passed. You took in the way you could see him up close from where you sat, admiring the way his eyes were intently scanning every hidden spot his horse could have possibly ran off to. The still early sunlight of the day gave a warm look to his back, appearing as if it was just asking for you to lay your head on it.

But you couldn’t. It already seemed to be a stretch to be holding onto him the way that you were, and you didn’t want to mess anything up— again.

***

As the time passed in your newfound mission to track down Arthurs horse, it appeared that he was growing uneasy. You assumed it was from the unexpected amount of time the task was taking, a pang of guilt filling your chest. The way things were now, it wasn’t looking as if the animal was going to be found anytime soon.

The feeling of unrest began to consume you. The once comfortable quiet of this ride had grown uncomfortable with time. Possibly because you’ve had time to sit with your thoughts, and they were beginning to itch to be released from your head.

You sighed.

“Alright back there?” Arthur asked, turning his head to look at you momentarily.

All you did was nod in response, turning your gaze away from him. You feared that if you opened your mouth to say anything at all, you’d let slip what was really on your mind.

Arthur, seemingly unsatisfied with your answer, slowed your horses previously steady pace to a stop. “I could take you back to the camp, if you’d like. This could take a while—“

“Can we just take a break for a moment?” You cut him off, your voice strained.

Pulling the reigns, Arthur led the horse off the path and onto a shady part of the woods that had surrounded you.

In an attempt to distract yourself, you analyzed the area. It was fairly quiet, and decently well hidden from the rest of the public. There was an abandoned makeshift camp left behind, some crates and a charred fire filling the space. Had you not stopped when you did, you would have missed it.

When you looked back up, you saw Arthur tying up your horse on a tree towards the entrance of the small encampment, giving the animal a pat on its side before turning to make his way towards you.

At this, you shot your eyes back at the ground, a sudden interest in the leaves and grass that filled it.

His footsteps approached.

“You sure you’re alright?” The cowboy asked, watching as you fidgeted where you stood.

This wasn’t an occurrence out of the ordinary. Arthur, being the man that he is, often asked you about you wellbeing. Most of the time, you replied with a generic answer of assuring him you were fine— regardless of how readable your true feelings were. Then, he would have to pry to get you to talk, just as he was now.

Glazed over eyes met his piercing ones.

“Oh, cowpoke—“

“I’m okay, it’s just,” You paused, catching your breath in order to calm down. “I think there’s something I need to tell you.”

“You think?”

You looked back down at the ground at this response, wanting nothing more than to just sink into the dirt beneath you.

Raising your head to continue with what you had to say, Arthur was suddenly far closer than he had been before, nearly towering over you. Had you not known the softer side of the cowboy, you would have cowered in fear at the sight.

Reaching forward, he put a hand on your shoulder.

“You can tell me how you’re really feeling,” He said, attempting to meet your eyes. “I promise.”

Nodding your head, his words helped to push you in the direction you needed to go with his conversation. Ripping off the bandaid. Confessing.

Tell him how you’re really feeling.

“Arthur,” You began, staring at his chest in front of you. “I don’t know how to describe the way I feel about you. But, I can describe the way I feel around you.”

He remained silent.

“You just… make me feel really warm. A type of warmth I’ve never felt before. Like a tight hug, or a heavy blanket. And I,” Finally, you forced yourself to meet his eyes, noticing the way he intensely stared back at you. “I feel different about you than I do with anyone else. I can’t really put my finger on why, but I’ve got an idea.”

“What’s that?” He softly asked, urging you to continue on.

“I like you, Arthur.” The statement was too vague for him to make any kind of assumption on, and he stepped forward to place both of his hands on your shoulders.

“Please.” He whispered.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that I wouldn’t mind being with you the way we were this morning. Close, comfortable, together.”

That seemed to be enough for him.

In an instant, Arthur lurched forward, connecting his lips with yours in a heated and desperate kiss. The suddenness of the movement caused you to hesitate momentarily, but once you got your bearings, the two of you slotted your lips together like pieces of a puzzle. A perfect, long-awaited puzzle.

The cowboys hands made their way up to your face, holding onto your jaw on both sides to help the embrace grow deeper, wanting to be as close to you as possible for him. This action, caused you to whine out quietly, struggling to keep up with his movements despite desperate efforts to try.

Upon hearing this noise leave your lips, something ignited inside of Arthur. He wanted that. He wanted to hear more of that. While he could tell you weren’t entirely inexperienced, it seemed like you needed a bit of guidance through this. So, he used his tongue to push against your lips, urging them to part for his entrance into your mouth.

The sound of the leaves blowing in the wind along with heavy, labored breathing was all that filled this old encampment. It felt like you were the only two people in the world. It felt like too much and not enough at the same time. More whines left your lips as you pressed your body against Arthurs subconsciously, adding to the warm feeling that was growing in your abdomen.

“Arthur…” You said, finally pulling away to catch your breath, an anguished look on your face. You were drunk on him from only moments of kissing, and he knew it.

Humming in response, he moved his efforts downward to attack your neck with kisses, lingering on certain spots for longer than others when he got the telltale reaction of your breathing hitching.

What he had not expected, though, was for the sudden roll of your hips into his slightly bent thigh.

Pausing his movements, he looked at your face again. Your cheeks were flushed a dark shade of crimson, and your pupils were blown wider than he’d ever seen before.

“Please,” You begged. “I need you.”

Arthur thought back to the night before, when you pleaded with him to sleep in the bed with you. Your behavior now was quite similar to then. Only now, instead of feeling his heart grow soft in his chest, he felt himself grow hard in his pants. Despite the fact that you were quite literally asking for him to take things a step further, he couldn’t help the uncertain feeling in the back of his mind. Was now the best time? Did you really want this? Was any of this real at all?

Your hand grabbed hold of his wrist, leading him to a spot in the abandoned camp where a thin blanket laid on the ground. Then, you lowered yourself onto it, laying yourself down while looking up at Arthur with hazy eyes.

He wondered why he ever even bothered to think he could deny you of anything.

Quickly, Arthur kneeled down to where you were. Then, he moved to lean on top of you, taking in the way you looked. Whatever part of him that wanted to take this slow was cut off by the way you wrapped your legs around his midsection, locking his hips in with yours as he began to grind himself against you— a groan leaving his lips. With how euphoric he was already feeling, he wouldn’t last long like this. He needed to be inside you.

The cowboys hand hovered over the belt of your pants, slowing his movements to meet your eyes again. Silently, he asked for consent, not moving his hand any further until you nodded your head in reassurance.

Instantly, your clothes were practically ripped off your body, revealing a soaking wet cunt to the eyes of the man before you. In all honesty, he could have devoured you whole right then and there and been happy. But, he knew what you wanted. He knew what you needed.

Rough fingers met the swollen bundle of nerves before him, rubbing gently at it to gauge a reaction. It was evidently the right move, due to the way your back immediately arched, a soft moan escaping your lips at the same time. Then, taking two large fingers, he pushed them inside of you, stretching you out and preparing you for him. With how slick you were, his fingers glided in and out of you without much struggle, making his mind run wild with thoughts.

“Please, Arthur.” You begged once again, reaching an arm out towards him to pull his face towards yours. “I can’t wait any longer.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Pulling his long fingers out of your heat, he reached down in a similar fashion to removing your own clothes, tugging at his own pants to release his throbbing length from their confines in his drawers. It was almost sad, how desperate it looked, already leaking and eager to be inside you.

Then, he used his hand to angle himself at your entrance, already feeling you clench around nothing before he could fill the empty space inside you. With one movement, he slid into your cunt, both of you gasping out at the feeling. Inch by inch, he admired the way you took him, a strangled but pleasant look on your face. Through the process, he reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind your ear, smiling softly.

“You sure are pretty, cowpoke.” He muttered, still sinking himself into you.

In response to his compliment, you tightened around him, a reaction not entirely in your control.

Arthur laughed. “You like when I call you pretty, sweetheart?” His voice nearly a purr now, testing the waters of what you liked.

All you could do was bite your lip and nod desperately, digging your nails into his buff arms from where they caged you in on either side of your head.

While he would have preferred an actual response from you, he decided to let things be on your terms this time.

As his length was fully bottomed out inside you, he allowed you a few moments to adjust, regardless of the voice in his head screaming at him to move.

Your eyes were screwed shut as you got used to the feeling, head thrown to the side as the slight pain of the stretch began to subside.

Then, wordlessly, you gave him a signal to move by rolling your own hips up to meet his, the unexpected movement making the man nearly fall forward on his elbows above you.

“Jesus, cowpoke, you’re going to be the death of me.” Arthur groaned out, now snapping his hips forward to experimentally thrust into you. Then, he did it again. And again, and again, until he set a steady pace inside of you.

The feeling was somehow more amazing than you had imagined. Restless nights of dreams about this exact scene began to fill your head, only to be crushed away by the real deal. Arthur’s movements were relentless, but at the same time, he was still somehow gentle with you.

The sound of both of your moans filled the area, and yours only got louder when Arthur reached down to rub at your clit again, his strong fingers creating a feeling that was extremely intense for you.

“A-ah—, Arthur…” You managed to whimper out.

“What is it?” He said back, somehow managing to sound composed despite the feeling of how tightly you wrapped around him.

“C-close.” You sighed out, eyes watering at the feeling of an approaching climax.

Speeding up his movements not only inside of you, but upon the bud he was creating friction with outside of you, Arthur lowered his lips down to beside your ear. From there, he whispered, “Cum for me, sweet girl.”

And that, you did. Your vision went blurry, and the intense feeling you had experienced before was suddenly ripping through you like a tidal wave, your back arching off the ground and your jaw hanging slack. As he helped you ride out your orgasm, he couldn’t help but be thankful you had reached your climax as soon as you did, because he wasn’t far behind you.

Once you relaxed back down, Arthur pulled out of you, the feeling of warm release landing on your stomach pulled your eyes open to take in the sight before you.

Arthur Morgan, looking exhausted as ever, sitting above you.

You giggled quietly.

Arthur laid himself down beside you to catch his breath, closing his eyes to momentarily take in all of what just happened.

“Not sure that’s where I expected that conversation to go.” You said with another laugh.

He laughed along with you, opening his eyes again to stare upwards at the trees providing shade where the two of you laid. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

Looking back at the man next to you, you sighed out contently. “I was just… nervous, I suppose. Wasn’t sure you’d feel the same way.”

Arthur, sitting up now, looked at the mess he made between your thighs. “I think the answer to that one is obvious now.”

From where you laid, you playfully pushed his shoulder, a smile filling your face.

“Let me get you cleaned up.” He then said, pulling his pants back up and buckling his belt to stand up from where he was laying. He eyed the small camp momentarily, looking to see if there was anything suitable to fix the mess he created. When nothing met his satisfaction, he dug in his pocket for a moment until he pulled out a handkerchief. Leaning down with the colored piece of fabric in his hand, Arthur began to softly wipe away the substances, pulling your bottoms back up when he was done.

This was the part of Arthur you loved the most. Even despite being the person he was, or doing the things he did, he still found time to be sweet to you. He wasn’t the same person that was on those wanted posters all over Blackwater. He was soft. Gentle. Loving. Even now, as he leaned forward to place a tender kiss on your forehead, you felt yourself falling head over heels again. Only now, he knew you liked him. And he felt the same.

“Do you think the gang is—“

“Arthur! Arthur are you around here?”

A loud, familiar voice rang through the clearing of where the two of you were. Though it sounded recognizable, you couldn’t put a name to it just yet, only quickly standing up from your once comfortable spot on the ground. Whoever it was, you didn’t want them to catch you like this.

Both you and Arthur began walking towards your horse, a slight wobble in your step as you did so.

“Okay there?” The cowboy teased, holding onto your arm as you made your way to lean against the horse.

“Just fine, mister.” You said back, kicking his boot playfully.

“Arthur!!! I have your horse, are you there?”

Suddenly, the voice was louder than before, clearly approaching your current location at any moment. Whoever they were, they did a better job of finding Arthur’s horse than the two of you did, that was for sure.

“I’m over here!” Arthur called back, whistling loudly to the voice.

After a few moments passed, the sound of horseshoes pounding against the ground made their way to you, and you were able to put a face to the voice.

“Arthur, there you are!” Lenny exclaimed, handing the lead of the other mans horse over to him. “You two never came back yesterday, we were all worried you’d been thrown in jail like old Micah, too.”

Arthur’s brows furrowed. “Micah’s in jail?”

Lenny nodded. “In Strawberry. Dutch wanted us to go break him out but you weren’t at the camp. Found your horse behind some old wagons, and thought somethin’ bad had happened.” He rambled, looking between the two of you.

“Wait, Dutch wants us to break Micah out of jail?” You scoffed, looking up at Lenny from where he sat on his horse.

“I know, I don’t want to as much as the rest of you, but it’s Dutch’s orders. He’ll be hung if we don’t get there soon.”

With a shared sigh, both you and Arthur hopped on the backs of your horses, readying yourselves to take off and follow Lenny.

“Guess we best get goin’, then.” Arthur begrudgingly said, gritting his teeth.

As Lenny turned around to ride in the other direction, he glanced back at the two of you. “So why didn’t y’all come back last night?”

With wide eyes, you looked at Arthur, who already had his eyes trained on you with a smile.

“Too much to drink.” He simply said, picking up his pace on the path.

As you rode up next to him, the two of you shared a knowing smile and flushed cheeks, following Lenny on your new mission to Strawberry.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #rdr2 #rdr2 fic #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 smut #rdr2 community

103 notes · View notes

rose-pearls · 5 months

Text

Watching you go - Part 11

Here is the new part!! It took some time but it's here and I hope you like it!

Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187, @nyx2021, @thestarspangledcaptain, @kmc1989 (open for everyone)

Series taglist: @wannapizzamymindposts, @experiencebeinanamericanwhOre, @capswife, @star-of-velaris, @simpinformunson, @nobody7102, @r1dd1kulus, @primscat, @fishfetus, @jellybear455, @ghostieraccoons, @inky-sun, @happinessinthebeing, @magical-spit, @mrsjna, @whats-that26, @fluffybunnyu, @jdbxws, @yazminetrahan, @pillowjj, @v4mpygoth (open)

Previous Part - Next Part

The sun had been shining for the past few days and you couldn’t stop smiling. The whole district seemed happier when the sun came out, which helped with the underlying tensions that always seemed to be in district twelve.

“Alright, I need your honest opinion.”, you hear Peeta say as he comes out of the bakery, the back door closing behind him.

“I promise.”, you tell him, and he smiles shily before showing you a small cake with a large scoop of frosting on it and some decorations.

“Peeta, it’s beautiful.”, you can’t help but whisper as you look at all of the small details, the flowers and the greenery. The boy seems unsure at your words, but you smile brightly, making him sit down next to you.

“Thank you, it’s a test. If they sell out at the end of the day my mother has said they will be a weekly occurrence.”, he seems nervous at the prospect, so you take his hand in yours, squeezing it in reassurance.

“I’m sure people will be rushing in to buy them.”, you tell him and Peeta smiles softly at you, that now familiar look in his eyes, full of love.

It had taken some time to get there, mainly you thinking that Peeta was in love with Katniss and the boy proving you wrong every step of the way. He had been looking at you like you were the somehow the best thing that happened to him and you looked at him the same way.

You never thought of Katniss and Peeta again, until they went into the games and suddenly there was third person in your relationship. Or so you thought, it seemed as if now you were the person too much in the relationship and not Katniss.

You couldn’t breathe, it was like someone had their hands wrapped around your throat, tears brimming in your eyes.

“Hey, kid, focus!”, you hear Haymitch say, and you take a shaky breath, holding onto his arm and trying to keep your beathing at a normal pace.

He takes your hand and puts it over his heart, making you take deep breaths with him and after a moment you finally manage it, tears sliding down your cheeks.

“What happened?”, he asks softly as you fall against the wall, your legs close to you as if they could protect you from the harsh reality.

“I can’t – I”, he nods quietly, as if understanding that you couldn’t explain it.

“It was the sight of them, right?”, Haymitch asks after a moment and you look at him, with the same blue-grey eyes.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know the girl was there.”, he says, and you simply shake your head, it wasn’t his fault.

“It’s a shitty feeling, right? Seeing the person, you like falling in love with someone else.”, you look at him with questioning eyes, he looked cynic, but there was sadness in his eyes.

“Are you talking about my mum?”, you ask him quietly, you hadn’t approached the subject with him but maybe you needed to talk about it.

“No, it wasn’t her.”, he says softly, and you look at him for a moment before you remember something.

“You really are like Haymitch.”, Johanna had whispered in the hospital, a soft smile on her lips.

“Johanna.”, you say and for the first time you see him flinch in response.

“How do you know?”, he asks, eyes wide as if you had just discovered his darkest secret.

“I was wondering how Peeta was, and she said that I was just like you, more busy worrying about others then myself.”, he closes his eyes like it’s painful.

“What happened?”, you ask softly and Haymitch lets out a sigh.

“It’s nothing compared to your love story with lover boy there.”, Haymitch says, and you know that he is trying to avoid the topic, you did the same thing.

“Every story is different, doesn’t make it less important.”, you tell him softly and he chuckles before looking at his hands that are wringing his beanie.

“When Johanna got out of the arena, she had no one, her mentors didn’t help her, so I took her under my wing. She was the first person to tell me my four truths to my face, the rest had always been too scared.”, you couldn’t help but chuckle at the image of an angry Johanna spewing words at him.

“Yeah, she was real fun back then. But little by little she started opening up and so did I, we told each other practically everything without even realizing it. She reminded me of my first girlfriend and slowly I started falling for her.”, there is a sad smile on his lips at the words and you take his hand in yours.

“She never felt the same, she was in love with Finnick. The boy had taken some time to realize how amazing she was but once he did, he finally saw what was in front of him and he took the chance I never had.”, there are tears shimmering in his eyes and you squeeze his hand.

“Why didn’t you tell her?”, you ask him softly.

“Because she deserved better than an old drunk like me. Plus, she was never really interested, she always had eyes for Finnick.”, he whispers, and you feel frustrated at his negative thoughts.

“You are far more than an old drunk.”, you tell him and your father scoffs at your words, but you shake your head.

“You won the 50th Hunger Games and had to go to every game after that, that is not something a coward would be able to do. Sure, you may have a drinking problem but, in the end, you were always there for the people who needed you, Katniss, Peeta, Johanna and me. You are insanely smart and cunning you just need to believe in yourself again, don’t let Snow win in making you believe that you are useless.”, he is looking at you with teary eyes, but you can’t stop yourself.

“And you are my goddamn dad, whether it was planned or not you are, and I will not let you bring yourself down. Never let anyone make you feel insecure about yourself, you deserve so much. And if that person doesn’t realize how amazing and wonderful you are then it’s her loss.”, you tell him and after a moment you think of your words, the words that you should also be telling yourself.

Peeta wasn’t in love with you anymore, no matter how much you would try to ignore it and push everything aside. He wasn’t the sweet boy you had met at the bakery, the both of you had changed whether you wanted to or not.

“I think I need to do something.”, you whisper and Haymitch nods in reassurance, there is that knowing glint in his eyes that tells you he already knows what you are going to do.

“I’m here if you need a pep talk or just someone to be with.”, he tells you and you nod in response. He smiles softly at you before kissing your forehead.

“Thanks for the pep talk sweetheart.”, he whispers, and you smile at him.

“Anytime you need it.”, he nods in response before leaving you in the hallway, thinking over what you were going to say.

He looks surprised to see you there, his blue eyes wide open but there is a familiar smile that appears.

“Hi.”, you say, unable to move from the door and Peeta nods in response, like he is unable to say something at the moment.

“How are you doing?”, you ask him as you manage to make your feet move towards the end of his bed and you sit down at his feet.

“The doctors say that I’m doing better, some memories come back, and others don’t.”, he looks unsure at the end, like he doesn’t know if he should say it or not, but you simply nod.

“You can tell me that you don’t remember us, I won’t get mad.”, you tell him softly and he looks at his hands for a moment, fiddling with his bedsheet, he always used to do that when he was nervous.

“How are you doing?”, he asks, his blue eyes meeting yours and you smile, trying to reassure him.

“I’m fine, the doctor told me that I could leave the medical ward and that Johanna should check on my wounds.”, you tell him, and he snorts softly.

“Better be careful with Johanna.”, he says teasingly, and you laugh at the words.

“She’s alright, she was actually the first person I saw when I woke up and she didn’t immediately start yelling around.”, the boy laughs at your words and there is a silence that follows your words. For the first time in a long time, you don’t know how to fill it.

“You like her, Katniss.”, you say after a moment and Peeta looks at you with wide eyes but before he can say anything you start talking.

“I know you do; I recognize the look in your eyes. You used to look at me with that look.”, you tell him, and he seems ashamed of the words.

“I’m sorry.”, he whispers, and you let out a shaky breath.

“It’s not your fault. The worst part is that the both of us haven’t had a say or do in this.”, he looks at you with sad blue eyes and you look at him with tears welling up in your eyes.

“I’ve loved you since I was a little girl and I saw you behind your father’s legs. But we aren’t the same people we were before you got reaped, we tried to make it work but it didn’t in the end.”, you say, your breath shaky as you talk and Peeta takes a deep breath.

“It’s not your fault, I want you to remember that. You didn’t have any control in what happened in the Capitol and even before you got captured it was not perfect.”, you tell him as the blond boy closes his eyes.

“I will always love you, some part of me always will and I will always cherish the moments that we had together, but we can’t keep pretending that all of this didn’t happen.”, Peeta seems pained at the words, and you feel sick at the thought of hurting him.

“I have to choose myself and give you the chance to discover everything again without me holding you back. That doesn’t mean that I’m giving up on you, I’ll always be there for you, but this is me choosing myself for once.”, you tell him, and he nods in understanding.

“You’re right. I was scared to hurt you, but we should’ve done this sooner.”, he says, and the words hurt more than any wound you could ever get physically.

“Don’t be a stranger Mellark.”, you whisper softly and Peeta smiles sadly.

“Don’t be a stranger either Abernathy.”, he whispers, and you shake your head, promising yourself that you would be there for him.

“Goodnight Peeta.”, he whispers goodnight back and you get off the bed, walking towards the door feeling like you are losing a piece of yourself.

And as you close the door behind you, the tears fall down your cheeks and you feel like someone has ripped a part of your body off.

You feel arms wrap themselves around your body and you get ready to push the person off until you recognize the pine smell that Johanna always carried with her, and you just fall in her arms sobbing.

“Haymitch told me you would need me.”, she whispers, and you hold her tighter, sobs leaving your lips.

“It’s okay I’m right here, I’m not leaving.”, she whispers, and you close your eyes, wishing for the memories of the blond boy to disappear but they just flash in front of your eyes.

You don’t realize that at the same time the boy with the bread is watching the door with tears streaming down his cheeks, memories coming back one by one.

#hunger games fanfiction #the hunger games #hunger games x reader #the hunger games peeta #peeta mellark x reader #peeta x reader #peeta imagine #peeta mellark #i love peeta

175 notes · View notes

bettyfrommars · 11 months

Text

I'm on Fire//biker!older!Eddie x fem!artist!Reader//biker!Steve//90's au//Part 10

🚨18+Only, smut, oral (m receiving), talk of erection, size kink, swallowing, biker gang, biker!Eddie, biker!Steve, talk of drug use, threats, talk of violence, financial trouble, mention of jail, smoking cigarettes, alcohol consumption, trouble at home, co-parents!Stobin, suggested custody issues, angst, underlying fear of retaliation. Word count: 8.7k

This is mostly just a sweet lil chapter to heal some wounds, right before some old wounds start opening.

Series Masterlist

A/N: I tried to make this part completely void of angst, but alas, I did not succeed. I'm working on a summertime one shot idea for the boys to go to a bike rally with all of the shenanigans that could possibly ensue; it should be a wild one. Big love to my beta @michellecrusher for deciding that this chapter could use a touch of smut.

As always, I'm honored to be on this ride with you and look forward to any and all interactions. Comments, messages, reblogs; it all means so much to me and is what keeps this little world going ❤️‍🔥

-----

I'm on Fire Part 10: I got a bad desire

-----

Landing with your face on the puke-stained, beer dribbled carpet of the Velvet Hammer, dusted in a sprinkle of cigarette ash, was not how you wanted to start your evening. You hadn’t even realized you hit the ground until you heard Steve’s voice demanding everyone get the fuck out of his way as he parted bodies to get to you.

And then, Erika’s voice: “I don’t know what happened...she just...fell. I promise, I didn’t touch her!”

People were murmuring around you and Steve was saying your name as you started to come back to reality, taking a deep inhale, blinking back to life. He knelt and propped you up into a sitting position, and that was when the embarrassment of what had just happened began to wash over you, making you wish that a hole in the ground would swallow you up.

“Do you think you can stand?” Steve asked while his big hands found positions under your arms in preparation to lift you up. You turned your head to look at him; his wayfarer sunglasses had fallen from the top of his head to the tip of his nose, and they were about to slip off, but his concern was more with not letting you go.

“What happened?” He asked as he pulled you to your feet, taking a second to grab the sunglasses off his face and throw them on the bar. “Did someone push you?”

“Please. Get me out of here,” you begged as one of your arms went around his shoulders, and one of his hands secured itself at your waist.

He set you down on a chair in front of the employee lockers and told you he’d get someone to cover the door for him while he took you home, or he’d see if one of the girls could stop by.

With your hands between your knees and your shoulders slumped, you began to come to terms with everything as he picked up the phone in the office.

“Wait,” you stopped him. “I can’t afford to miss a day of work, Steve, I’ll be fine. Just...just give me a second to catch my breath.”

Steve understood what a hard spot that was to be in; he lived it almost every day of his life. He put the receiver back down on the cradle.

“What did that bitch say to you?” Steve asked, putting his foot up on the bench.

You shook your head. “That’s just it, she’s not a bitch,” you chewed your lip. “She just saved me from making a huge mistake. I owe her.”

Steve was on his way back out to the floor when you called to him. “Hey, does Eddie have any female friends who are redheads, that you know of? Really pretty, tattoo on her bicep? Someone he’d feel comfortable enough with to let stay at his place?”

Steve popped his knee out and put his hands on his hips, frowning. “No one that he’s...dated, I don’t think,” he rubbed his chin in thought. “But there’s Max, she’s more like a sister to us. I just tattooed her a few weeks ago. Her hair was like a bright, candy red. Why do you ask?”

You turned away from Steve and squeezed your eyes shut, a sob caught in your throat. The sudden rush of relief at so many groundbreaking realizations had your emotions on the verge of short-circuiting. Eddie still had quite a bit of explaining to do, but the tight bud of your heart was blooming like a rose in your chest once again, full of hope.

----------

Meanwhile, Eddie was officially going stir crazy. “I need to get out of this house,” he told Robin has he hitched through the kitchen, careful not to put too much weight on the hip was right below his wound. He was wearing his jeans unbuttoned, so they hung a bit low, bangs swept across his forehead, and one of Steve’s white wife beaters that was too small for him. The thin material exposed the tattoos on his chest and stomach, as well as the ones scattered from neck to hands. He’d spent the afternoon watching cartoons with Oliver, which was enjoyable, but relaxing and sitting still for long periods of time just wasn’t in his DNA.

Also, he wasn’t sure if it was an affect of the morphine, but he’d had another one of his nightmares early that morning, before dawn, and shouted himself awake, covered in sweat. It was the same dream that had tortured him off and on for over a decade; the one where he’s being attacked by a swarm of flesh-eating bat creatures, they’re all taking big bite out of his flesh, and he wakes up to the feeling of choking on his own blood.

“Over my dead body,” Robin challenged, moving from the stove with a wooden spoon covered in macaroni and cheese in her hand.

Eddie’s eyes traveled to the spoon and then back to her face. “That can be arranged.”

“Seriously, dude,” her shoulders sank. “Don’t make me hog tie you to the couch. I promised Astrid we’d keep an eye on you for another night.”

“I have a business to run, Rob,” he said as he hobbled over to grab his leather from the back of the one of the dining chairs. “If this were a hospital, they would’ve kicked me to the curb by now.”

Robin went back to the stove to stir the powdered cheese in with the noodles. She knew that no one could stop him if he wanted to go, and she really couldn’t blame him.

With her back to him she said, “if you end up getting some type of infection and your foot falls off, I won’t ever forgive you.”

Oliver came trotting out from the other room to say goodbye, and he raised his arms for Eddie to pick him up, which he did—and Robin glanced over just in time to see the grimace of pain flash across Eddie’s face as he settled the boy on the wrong hip at first before switching him to the other side. She shook her head, certain he would pop his stitches by the end of the day.

“Steve brought your bike up the hill,” she let him know, while she packed up some medications for him to take. “Your girlfriend is at work by now, I believe.”

Eddie’s eyes snapped to hers as he put Oliver down. “Why’d you call her that?”

“Isn’t she?” Robin challenged, raising her eyebrow. “I can tell you knew exactly who I was talking about.”

Eddie couldn’t help the smile that twitched across his lips.

----------

The Velvet Hammer was packed that night, and by the end of your shift, after very little food, no sleep, and one blackout, you were a bit wobbly on your feet. Steve had to work as security for a while longer, since there was a bachelor party in attendance that was getting a bit rowdy, but he demanded you let him walk you to your car while he had a smoke.

“So, I like Astrid,” you told him. He held out his cigarette to offer you a drag, but you declined with a wave of your hand. “What’s going on with you two?”

“Going on?” Steve put the cig to his lips with thumb and forefinger.

You adjusted your bag on your shoulder as you made room for a group of people to pass on the sidewalk. “You know what I mean,” you insisted, knowing full well that he did. “You two seemed really close last night. I was just curious.”

“Oh, I’m fuckin’ in love with her,” Steve announced with a shrug, as if it were common knowledge. “We just don’t have a conventional relationship, I guess. No one seems to understand it but us.”

You wondered, sincerely, how many women Steve had been in love with in his life. But, you could tell that there was, indeed, something special about the connection he had with Astrid. You wondered if Eddie looked at you the way Steve had looked at her last night.

Steve hung around to make sure you got in your car okay, and then you chuckled to yourself as he sauntered off, flirting with a group of women who were walking by, asking them to come by the bar and keep him company. You were about to maneuver your way out of the precarious parallel spot you were wedged in when your eyes locked on a piece of folded paper held to the windshield under one of the wipers.

At first, you thought it was ticket of some sort, like maybe you were in a no parking zone or something. But then, at closer examination, you realized it was made with blue-lined notebook paper.

It was a handwritten note.

The street was fairly busy that night with cars zooming around town, so you were cautious as you dashed out to pinch it free and pull it back into the safety of the car with you.

It was a...little paper origami duck? Or some kind of bird? You turned it around, inspecting the intricately folded parts, giggling curiously as you did so. You unfastened the delicate edges, careful not to rip it in haste. Finally, you were able to press a flat, albeit crumpled, half sheet of paper against your steering wheel, your heart shot into your throat, melting there like a fat stick of butter.

It was from Eddie:

I miss you. Come to my place so we can talk? It doesn’t matter how late.

-- E

P.S. Oliver wants to make this into a swan for you

Hopeful tears pooled at your lash line and you checked your watch; it was just after 11:30. Surely, they’d be keeping him at Steve’s for another night? But, if so, he would’ve said that and not, specifically “his place”. You tried to fold it back exactly the way it was, failed miserably, and ended up folding it in half without messing up any of the edges to place it safely in your middle console.

For a few seconds as you sat in your car with the radio on, listening to Nearly Lost You by The Screaming Trees, you wondered if you should play hard to get, if maybe rushing over to his place was not the right game to play. But really, truly, you didn’t give a shit about any of that.

You were blinking excessively and yawning, and you had this feeling like, if you rested your head back against the seat, you’d fall asleep right there in your car. But, you took a few deep breaths and patted your cheeks. You brought a can of Coke in your bag from the bar and cracked it open to guzzle some of it, thinking maybe you’d need to go home first and change? Or go straight to Eddie’s? Fall asleep in your car was still an option.

Fuck.

-----------

Earlier that day, around 5 o’clock, Eddie hissed as he dismounted his bike at the garage, clutching his side, trying to mask the spasm of pain, only to see Wayne watching him from the main garage. His uncle nodded in greeting, just wanting to make sure Eddie was okay, as he wiped his hands, and then turned around to finish what he was working on. So much of the communication they shared was silent, but understood.

He had the note in his pocket that Oliver had made into an origami animal, and he wanted to tidy up his place a bit before he did some work, just in case you did actually come over. If you didn’t, he wouldn’t blame you—it had been an especially long 24 hours. But, damn, he really needed to see you, to try and fix whatever had gone wrong, if he even could.

He still didn’t know what Charlene had done to upset you, but his mind reeled with the possibilities.

Eddie had ripped the bandage off his cheek on the way over, so there was just an angry gash there with a few stitches holding it together like a twist tie to a bunch of hammers, and he didn’t realize how much he resembled Frankenstein’s Monster until the new office assistance choked on her soda at the sight of him.

“Rough night?” She asked. Her name was Dana and she’d worked at garages before, but never for one that was affiliated with an MC.

“You could say that,” Eddie returned as he headed over to one of the metal filing cabinets to look for something.

Dana had a few “while you were out” slips of paper she had filled out with phone numbers and people who had wanted to speak with Eddie or Wayne, and she went over them with him while she chewed a red piece of gum.

She finished the last one and then, “oh, yeah, and someone called here looking for a…” she checked the piece of paper. “...Steve Harrington?”

Eddie nodded, taking something he needed out of the file before shutting the drawer. “He’s a buddy of mine. What’s the message?”

Dana scratched her head. “She didn’t say what it was about, just said that it was a personal matter,” she showed Eddie the pink piece of paper with a phone number and name on it. “Said her name was Christina? I don’t recognize the area code.”

“Could you look up Steve in the address book in that first drawer and relay the message for me? He’s in there under Dingus. I gotta run this out to the---”

Dana spelled out Dingus on the piece of paper, without questioning it, and then looked at the round clock on the wall, nervously. “Actually, I should’ve been gone a half hour ago. I need to pick up my daughter from--”

Eddie waved the papers in his hand. “Of course, I’m sorry I’ve been...distracted. Do me a favor and call him when you get in on Monday? I’m sure it can wait till then.”

The name Christina did not ring a bell at the time, but later on, he’d wish that it had.

--------

You decided to go home first to freshen up a bit, but also, you wanted to pick up the photos to show Eddie. Katie was asleep, but you made yourself some coffee and tiptoed around, wishing you had time to shower because you reeked of secondhand smoke, but then realized Eddie probably wouldn’t notice anyway.

You were nervous as you pulled into the gates of the compound; your heart was racing and your palms started to sweat. His black and chrome bike with the menacing, purple flock of bats on the tank was parked right up close to his door, and you angled your car right in next to it.

Once you turned your car off, you could hear the faint sound of music drifting down from the open window in his apartment. The song was Love You to Death by Type O Negative, and you glanced up just in time to see his shadow pull from the window, as if he’d been standing there, watching you drive up.

---------

Up in his apartment, Eddie cracked his knuckles, ignoring the fact that the skin on them was still raw and one of his fingers was probably sprained because it throbbed like a motherfucker. He wanted to make sure everything looked okay before he ran down to meet you at the front door. The TV was on mute, he’d been watching Unsolved Mysteries, but now an episode of the X-Files was starting. There were clean sheets on the bed—just in case---and he’d been on his hands and knees cleaning the bathroom for a good half hour. There was a vanilla candle burning on the nightstand, and he had lit some Nag Champa incense earlier to try and mask the fact that he’d just smoked a couple cigarettes to calm his nerves. He turned the music down a tad and wondered if Type O was too on-the-nose for such an evening, like maybe you’d think he was setting some tawdry scene, when in actuality, he listened to their music all the damn time. He had on the only pair of dark denim Levi’s he owned without holes in them, a black Faith No More shirt that had the neck and sleeves ripped off of it, and his black converse, which were a nice change from the heavy boots he always wore. He slipped his rings on and used his pinky to clean some sleep out of his eyes just before he headed down to greet you.

---------

You were just about to knock, knuckle poised in the air, when the door flew open.

“Hey,” Eddie stood there looking flushed, lips parted, dragging one hand down his stomach as his pupils dilated to take you in.

You gulped. “Hey. Is this too late? I wasn’t sure if you really meant---”

“Oh I really want you here,” Eddie stepped back, holding the door open with his body.

You were just going to walk through without making any physical contact, but then you found your body being sucked against his, as if by some gravitational pull, and you both sunk into each other. He was quick to put his arms around you, hugging you tighter, securing you to him as if your body was oxygen.

“I know we’ve got a lot to talk about,” he planted his lips on the top of your head, only removing them to speak. “I want to make it right, baby. I don’t ever want to hurt you, and I would never let anyone hurt---”

“I believe you,” you answered, moving further inside, wanting to get behind closed doors with him.

There were old, squeaky wood stairs that led up to the narrow hallway, and you held onto one of his belt loops as you followed him up, pausing so he could open the door and extend his arm for you to enter.

“So, this is where the magic happens,” you teased, taking in the open space that was bedroom, living room, and kitchen all in one. There were Iron Maiden and Slayer posters on the wall, a Harley Davidson plaque, as well as your painting, which was the first thing anyone saw when they walked in. Directly to your right was a hallway that looked like closet space and a door to a bathroom. It was a spacious, warehouse style loft with wood floors and a few round, woven rugs.

The windows...the windows were huge.

Eddie snorted at your comment, and was just about to turn around to take you into his arms again, when you bolted over to start busying yourself with lowering the curtains, starting with the window that faced the other side of the street.

“You really should keep these closed,” you told him, leaning over a table with a turntable and an 80’s style boombox. The pull did not work for the second curtain, and your frustration was mounting as you yanked at it, just as Eddie stepped over and put his hand on the cord.

“Let me do it, baby,” he met your eyes, trying to see if he could guess what had triggered such a frenzy.

While he finished dropping the blinds, you took the photos out of your bag, extending them when he turned around. You sat down at the end of the bed and watched his face as he slipped the contents out of the manila envelope to look at them.

He glanced at you a few times as he flipped through the photos, and his expression ebbed from confusion to anger and back again.

Eddie was shaking his head, hair hanging down, his strong fingers curling as if he wanted to crumple them up. “These aren’t...this is not what it looks like,” his eyes searched yours.

“I know,” you looked down, biting your top lip with your bottom teeth. “Erica told me you were set up. And Steve told me about...your other friend.”

The muscles in Eddie’s jaw tensed, teeth grinding, as his eyes narrowed on the window where most of the photos had been taken from. “Some fucker has been watching me this whole time?” The irrational part of Eddie wondered if the guy was over there, somewhere in the abandoned building, right at that moment. Maybe he should go over and introduce himself, possibly break the guys face with his own camera. Break his hands and throw him out the third story window while he was at it.

The photos were starting to make Eddie feel sick with rage, so he put them back in the envelope. Your bloodshot eyes fluttered and he could see how tired you were.

“Who would do this?” You asked, earnestly. “More importantly, why would they do it? I haven’t been here long enough to make enemies. Not of this caliber, anyway.”

Eddie put the envelope on top of the kitchen counter and sat down next to you on the bed with a heavy sigh. He had his hands resting on his knees, but then he took a chance and slid one arm over to interlace his fingers with yours, and you let him. He squeezed your hand. “It’s a long story, but a while back I made a mistake and got involved with this woman who--”

“Charlene Gregson?” She’d always been at the top of your list for someone who would have the motive for something so unnecessarily heinous.

“That’s the one,” he brought your hand over across his leg. “That’s where I went last night, to try and stop her, I suppose. I guess I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

That made a laugh bubble out of your chest for some reason. “What was your plan? Crash through her gates on your motorcycle on a cloud of smoke and seek vengeance?”

Eddie shrugged his shoulders. “Hey, it always works out in the movies.”

You giggled and pulled away, but then he tugged you back, and you were still smiling as he scooped his hand around your cheek and pulled you in for a kiss, little hiccups of laughter erupting between kisses tongues slipping in ever so gently; Mulder and Scully having a conversation on the TV in the background. You held onto his wrist, sinking deeper into the yearning that you always felt for him, pulling back only to rub the tips of your noses together, lips grazing.

“Stay here with me tonight?” Eddie whispered, pressing his forehead to yours. “I want to hold you.”

You were sure, you were almost positive, that you had just fallen asleep for a second while he was talking, and you blinked hard just as he lifted his eyes to meet yours.

“But I stink, I smell like the Velvet Hammer. I didn’t have a chance to shower,” you mewed, feeling your body slump further into hibernation mode as the adrenaline from the past two days wore off.

“You don’t stink,” Eddie assured you. “You can sleep in one of my shirts, and you can use my toothbrush, if you don’t mind my germs.” He had your hand in his and was holding it to his chest as he watched your face.

“I figured you’d have plenty of extra toothbrushes here for all of the copious amounts of women who sleep over,” your exhaustion was making you feisty.

Eddie gave an exaggerated sigh. “Well, I do have a few extras for emergencies. But I’ve never offered up my own personal toothbrush before.”

“Goodbye,” you chirped, standing up, ready to leave.

But Eddie chuckled and caught you around the waist, throwing you down on the bed next to him with a bounce and a grunt.

You were doing a poor job of stiffing your own laughter as you tried to keep a serious face, but then he moved to crawl on top of you and you watched his face seize in pain. He stiffened and put his hand over the area where his knife wound was, easing himself onto his back. While Eddie silently prayed that he hadn’t ripped his stitches, you went around the side of the bed to click the lamp off. You turned the TV off too; the music was on low, but that you didn’t mind.

“We are quite a pair tonight,” Eddie mumbled from the bed, slightly incapacitated, as he watched you moved around his apartment.

You loved the idea of sleeping in one of his shirts and hygiene and all that jazz, but in that moment—you weren’t sure you could last another second. Your lids were heavy and your conversation skills were at an all time low. With rubbery limbs, you climbed on the dark blue comforter of his bed and curled against him, making sure it was the side he hadn’t been stabbed on. Flat on his back, Eddie’s eyes never left you, and he was ready with his arm high and outstretched for your head to make a pillow out of his shoulder.

“I can’t keep my eyes open for another second,” you yawned. You grabbed his chest to pull yourself closer, like he was a pillow, and he kissed your forehead.

You kissed the gash on his cheek, nuzzling the hair just above his ear, planting more kisses as you went. Eddie felt his cock spring to life in his jeans and he was too exhausted to do anything about it. You cupped your hand on the side of his neck, kissed the corner of his mouth, and then finally let your cheek fall to his shoulder with a flop.

Eddie took hold of your leg at the crook of your knee to pull it across his hips, needing to feel your weight, not wanting to let you get away. He closed his eyes, drowning in the feel of your soft puffs of breath on his neck, your chest moving up and down on his arm. He planted his lips to your head again, giving a few audible smooches before he rested his torn cheek lightly against you.

He wrapped his arm around tighter, bringing you closer. “You know, Robin called you my girlfriend today,” he admitted, a low laugh rumbling from his chest.

The only response you could manage was, “mmmpfm?”

The stubble of his jaw grazed your forehead as he contemplated what he was about to say. He’d just been stabbed, and it made him consider his mortality, and the time he had left.

“I was thinking,” he breathed. “If you like the sound of that, maybe we could, make it official? That is, if you could ever see yourself having a dirtbag like me as a boyfriend.”

Your body had gone limp and, in the following seconds while he waited for a response, he heard a soft whistle in your nose and a snore catch in the back of your throat. A few drops of drool started pooling from the side of your mouth and made a wet spot on his shirt.

Eddie chuckled, peeking down at you, but trying not to move too much, not realizing he was about to drift off to sleep as well.

-----------

You weren’t sure what time it was when your head rolled off of Eddie’s shoulder, jerking you awake, but it was dark outside, and you were still in the same position you were when you passed out: hand loosely cupping his neck, and your leg stretched across his hips. His head had rolled to the side, away from you, full lips parted, and the blue glow from the stereo cast a moody light on his skin, making his cheek wound look like something out of science fiction.

Still half asleep, you kissed the exposed muscles of his throat, right at the spot where the dark lines from his back tattoo came up across his neck, and your hand slid down his chest; you didn’t have a plan, you just wanted to feel him. His breathing was steady and shallow, eyeballs dancing under his lids. Your hand met with the top of his jeans, and then your eyes widened at the bulge that was causing a huge gap from skin to denim.

You slid your leg off of him, letting your hand move down a bit further, and your hand had to widen over his clothing to pass over the expanse of his arousal there.

Without even realizing it, you had started thrusting your hips against him, working your core against his hip, and then you lifted up to kiss his chin, aching to find his mouth with yours. You’d gone over to his place with every intention of being intimate with him, and nature had intervened with other plans, but you still wanted him to know how bad you wanted him, how much you craved him every second of the day.

Eddie groaned awake to return your kiss, and one of his hands grabbed your face. “Who is this greedy girl?” He mumbled against your mouth, his eyes droopy.

You straddled him, keeping your knees low, at his thighs, careful not to hit his wound. You started to move your core up and down along the bulge under his jeans, and then you leaned forward to brush your lips against his as you spoke. “You’re so hard, let me take care of it.”

Eddie whimpered a little in the back of his throat. “You can take whatever you want, baby,” and then a visible shiver ran through his body at the mere thought of your mouth on his cock.

You inched your way down, sucking hickeys into the dark tattoos spread across his stomach and chest, avoiding the medical tape from his bandage. Eddie moaned and threw his head back as you licked along the inside of his hip, unzipping his jeans to pull them down.

No boxers underneath, his huge cock sprang free, and the sight of the pre-cum already dripping from the pink tip made your mouth water. Eddie bit his lip while he watched you from under hooded eyes as you took control, pulled his jeans down further, and straddled his leg.

You bent over, and kept eye contact with him as you licked all the way down the shaft, and then wet the tip with your mouth, flicking your tongue along the slit, cleaning up his primal release.

Eddie pupils were blown, his lips parted as he watched.

“Whose cock is this?” You asked, teasing the tip with your wet mouth, planting hungry kisses down his shaft.

Eddie choked a little in the back of his throat. “It’s—it’s yours baby.”

He was already rock hard—throbbing, even---and your core flowered open beneath your clothes, soaking your underwear to the point that you actually had to reach down and touch yourself as you sucked him. Eddie noticed this and it made him mumble, “fuckbabyfuck,” as his leg squirmed, digging his heel into the bed.

You worked the tip of his cock with your hand while you sucked one of his balls into your mouth, and you couldn’t help but smile a little at how crazy it was making him.

Somehow, between sleeping on someone else’s couch and working, Eddie had neglected to jerk off recently, and so he was about to….

“Fuck, baby, right there,” he hissed, bucking his hips. “You’re gonna make me…”

You went back to work, gripping him with hand and mouth in tandem, lips stretching to take all of him, eyes watering, swallowing his tip in the back of your throat every so often, as he watched you with a furrowed brow, cursing under his breath.

Suddenly, his breath started to hitch, and the fingers of one of his hands dug into the comforter. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum baby...if you want it...like that…”

He was warning you as if you’d pull your mouth off and jerk him the rest of the way, but you wanted all of it in your mouth. You moaned as you sucked at the tip, pulling the orgasm out of him, saliva dripping down his balls.

Eddie let out a whimper and his leg jerked just before he stilled, and you tasted the salty sweetness of his warm cum shoot into the back of your throat in bursts. You drank his spend like his dick was a straw, throat busy swallowing every drop, moaning as you did so. You milked the tip for all he could give you, and then you cleaned him up with your greedy tongue, planting kisses on his cock when he was done with his release.

Eddie stared at the ceiling, slightly shook. “How are you so good at that?”

You sighed a quick laugh, licking your lips, as you made your way to the bathroom to finally brush your teeth. When you came back out, he was already asleep.

------------

As your eyes opened and adjusted to a sliver of buttery light peeking in from the curtain, your mind put you in several places. First, you were in your childhood bedroom, feeling like you needed to get up and ready for school, and then you were in the more recent bed in the house you shared with Katie. But, then the Iron Maiden poster came into focus and you were slammed with the realization that you had passed out in Eddie’s bed and it was already morning. Your intention had been to take a nap for an hour or two, but now you were alert to the idea that Eddie might still be somewhere in the room.

You remembered falling asleep on Eddie’s shoulder, waking up hungry for his cock, but now you were facing in the other direction, there was a blanket over you, and someone had taken your shoes off. It was Sunday, so the garage was closed, but you could still hear voices down below and the sound of a car engine revving. You reached your hand behind you to pat the bed, but only found an empty space; either Eddie was in the bathroom or he had already gone downstairs to start his day. God, what time was it?

You rolled over to crawl across the bed to look at the digital alarm clock, inhaling the smell from Eddie’s pillow as you went, and choked a little when you saw it was almost 9:30.

“Holy shit,” you mumbled, throwing the cover off of your body. You couldn’t remember the last time you slept in for that long. A fear that you’d be late for work gripped you, but then you were reminded that you were no longer the director of a gallery, and your new job didn’t start until cocktail hour.

You found your shoes tucked neatly against the sofa, and on the kitchen counter in front of the coffee pot was a note propped up like a little tent with your name on it.

I had to run a tow.

I hope you’re here when I get back.

Thank you for taking it like a good girl last night.

-- E

Eddie and his little notes. You grinned as you folded it up and put it in your pocket, because of course you’d be saving any note he ever left you till the end of time.

It was then that a heavy fist started pounding on the door down below. “Helloooo? Anyone? What the hell do I gotta do to get some service around here?”

----------

Even though the mechanics were all off that day, the towing business was a 24 hour thing. There was another Coffin King named Lou who was usually able to cover some nights and weekends, but when Eddie found himself stuck with a pickup at the worst possible time, he tried to focus on the money and be grateful for it.

He’d considered waking you up to see if you wanted to go with him, but you were sleeping so peacefully, he didn’t have the heart to disturb you. He woke up with his cock so achingly hard thinking about what you did to him in the middle of the night, that he had to jerk off as quietly as possible in the shower that morning. He was sure you’d heard the grunt he barked when he came, thinking about filling you up, listening to you tell him how deep you wanted all of him inside of you.

The last time he went this long without having intercourse with a girl that he had feelings for was maybe his freshman year in high school. The crazy thing was, he was enjoying the feeling of waiting and making it special; even though the holding out part was totally accidental, and he would’ve jumped at the chance to bury himself inside you that very first night you met.

But the way you took care of him last night, holy shit: he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He couldn’t tell if he had really found the Holy Grail of women, or if his feelings for you had made it as intense as it was; possibly a bit of both. He was seized with memories of your mouth on him off and on while he was on the job, and he’d have to slyly adjust himself in his jeans. He couldn’t wait to get back to you.

He started to whistle as he rounded the corner to re-enter the compound, hoping that your car was still there, hoping that he could….

But he spotted a different car in the lot right next to yours that hadn’t been there before, and you were coming out from out of the garage with your hand shielding your eyes, looking deeply concerned.

------------

You considered just letting whoever it was keep on knocking, but at one point, the person yelled: “Eddie! I know you’re here! Don’t make me take your bike for a spin around the block!”

And so, you put your shoes on and went down, wholly unprepared for what you would find.

There were two smiling faces practically pressed up against the glass of the main door as you descended the stairs. One was a guy with a mop of brown curls, and the woman with him had beautiful olive skin, black hair, and wore glasses. They both waved enthusiastically, happy to finally be acknowledged.

------------

“What the hell, Henderson?” Eddie parked the tow truck and jumped down, wallet chain flapping against his jeans. Eddie waved to you across the way, as his mouth opened into a toothy grin, exposing actual cheek dimples, that you’d maybe only seen him wear once or twice.

“If it isn’t the Dungeon Master!” Dustin came toward him with his arms out. “What the hell is up with you and Steve? You’re the two hardest losers to find!”

They hugged, and then Eddie tousled Dustin’s hair, mussing it up. “You haven’t changed a bit, you little goblin.”

Next to you, under the shade of the awning was a very pregnant Suzie, who you’d also just met. She was in a purple floral dress with a white collar, and you’d pulled a chair around for her to have a seat.

“I love to see my Dusty Buns happy again,” she said, passing her hand over the globe of her belly as you both watched the two men embrace. “We should’ve moved back sooner, but life just got away from us.”

“How do you all know each other?” You were just barely able to introduce yourself before Eddie pulled up, and so you had no idea how close the gang was.

“I’m surprised the boys never mentioned Dustin to you? They went to high school together; they’re all really close. Steve is basically Dustin’s surrogate father,” she giggled, lifting her sweet moon-shaped face to you in a soft smile.

You did feel a little self-conscious about not knowing, but there was a good reason for it. “Well, I’m...Eddie and I are…kind of a new thing.” But then you remembered that you did know a little bit about one of their old friends. “They’ve mentioned Max to me. I guess she visited a couple days ago? I didn’t get to meet her though.”

“Maxine is a riot!” Suzie exclaimed. “You’ll get you meet her and Lucas when the baby is born. They said they wanted to be here for the actual birth, but who can really tell when that will be? I’m due in a week, but I was born two weeks early, and my sister’s newest baby was born almost a month late,” her eyes got glossy. “Boy, I really can’t imagine holding this baby in for another hour, let alone another month.”

Eddie had his arm around Dustin’s shoulders as they approached, and he gave him a playful knuckle rub to the head before they parted.

Eddie greeted Suzie, and she went to stand up to hug him, but Eddie quickly bent over and kissed her on the cheek so that she wouldn’t have to move. He swallowed as he took in the enormous state of her pregnant belly. “Shouldn’t you be...resting? Is it too hot out here? Should we go inside? Are you comfortable in that chair?”

Suzie laughed. “My god, Eddie, you’re as bad as Dustin. I’m fine, I promise. I’m trying to shake this baby loose; this little person has rented out my womb for long enough.”

Eddie met your eyes and kissed you on the lips before he put his arm around you and pulled you against him.

It was the wrong side, again, and he winced.

Dustin noticed the look of pain. “What the hell happened to you?”

“He got stabbed,” you volunteered with a sheepish look on your face, tilting your head to Eddie’s shoulder.

“Oh, of course he did,” Dustin said, his mouth wide. “What else would Eddie or Steve be doing on the weekends besides mortal combat?”

Suzie looked concerned, but Eddie assured the group that he was fine. He looked you in the face as he said: “So, did you two get to meet my girl?”

Your cheeks got warm, and you ran your hand up and down his back.

“Only briefly, before you rudely interrupted,” Dustin let him know, moving behind Suzie’s chair to put his hands on her shoulders. Dustin had been worried for a while there that Eddie would never move on from his ex, and that he would always be in a dark head space in regards to romance, and so seeing him with you made his heart feel light.

“You see Steve yet?” Eddie asked. “He’ll be pissed you didn’t come to see him first.”

“Um, not like we didn’t tryyyy,” Dustin raised both eyebrows. “No one was at the house and the tattoo shop wasn’t open yet. I talked to him on the phone a few weeks ago, but we weren’t sure when we’d be in town.”

Eddie thought about that for a second. It was very odd for neither one of them to be home, especially on a Sunday morning. But, there was a chance Robin took Oliver to a shift at work with her and Steve had spent the night at Astrid’s, depending on how early Dustin had popped by.

“I’ll find him,” Eddie assured them both. “Are you staying at your moms house.”

“Hell no,” Dustin responded almost too quickly. “I mean, I love my mother, don’t get me wrong, but she’s been driving us up the wall lately. We’re renting a house a few blocks away from her until everything is finalized at our new place.”

They all made a plan to meet up as soon as they could figure out where Steve and Robin were, and once they were gone, Eddie turned to you, cupping your neck to pull you against him.

“Is it okay that I introduced you as my girl?” He stroked his thumb across your chin as he asked it, chocolate eyes unsure if they should meet your gaze or watch your mouth.

You lifted up to brush your lips across his, tongue peeking out only slightly, making him groan a little. You searched his eyes, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “Is that what I am?”

Eddie put his hands on your lower back and brought his head back, wanting to see your whole face. “You tell me. I wanna hear it. Are you my girl?”

You were nodding yes before he even finished. “I’ve been your girl for a long time now, silly boy.”

“Yeah?” Eddie breathed in a chuckle, his cock growing as he met your sweet, eager mouth. He paused only to admit, “I’ve wanted you to be mine since that first day we met.”

----------

Of all the places Steve had hoped to wake up on Sunday morning, a jail cell was not one of them.

He made bail, and Robin was there to pick him up, giving him a dirty look as she did so. He had his sunglasses on, his Coffin Kings cut in his hand, and a cigarette bobbing between his lips as he got into the passenger seat and shut the door. The “seek and destroy” tat on the side of his neck displayed loud and proud.

“Nice shiner,” Robin said under her breath.

“Yeah, well, you should see the other guy,” Steve said, cupping his hands to light his smoke. His black eye was the only visible mark on him, but the dude he had a tussle with had gone to town on Steve’s ribs, and there would definitely be bruises there.

She made a face as she backed out of the parking spot. “You smell like vomit.”

He ignored her observation. “Where’s Ollie?”

“I dropped him at Astrid’s,” she said as she pulled her own sunglasses down from the top of her head to cover her eyes. “I didn’t want him to see this.”

“Why are you acting like this was all my fault?” Steve blanched, flicking ash out the window as they turned out of the courthouse, Somebody to Shove by Soul Asylum playing on the radio. “You don’t even know what happened.”

“I don’t have to know, Steve, that’s the point,” she barked. Her frustration with him was also mixed with a generous amount of worry. “When are you going to grow up and start walking away from danger instead of headlong into it every chance you get?”

“Oh I get it,” Steve said sarcastically. “So, you don’t care that Tina is back in town, and this had everything to do with her?”

Robin hit the breaks and turned to him so fast, a chunk of her hair stuck to her bottom lip. “What do you mean Tina is back in town?”

“Now you care?” He tapped his knee as he took another drag.

Robin felt like she forgot how to breathe, so she pulled over to park haphazardly along the sidewalk at an angle.

She turned the car off but left the air on. “You know how I feel about Tina, but please tell me you didn’t hit her.”

“Oh, fucking of course not,” Steve balked, snapping his head to look at her. He gestured to his black eye with the two fingers holding his cigarette, “this was courtesy of her new fiance. I think they were both on crack. They were waiting for me when I left work last night. Now, all of a sudden, out of the goddamn blue, Tina wants to see Oliver.”

Robin was shaking her head, gripping the steering wheel. “No, no, absolutely not,” she said, definitively. “She disappeared when he was 3 months old. No. There’s no way. She’s a drug addict, she’s a narcissist, no. Not a chance in hell.”

“I know, Rob, believe me. It’s not going to happen, okay?” Steve assured her with a wave of his hand. “At least not until she cleans her life up.”

Christina, Oliver’s biological mother, didn’t have a nurturing bone in her body, and never wanted anything to do with her son, but the fear had always been in the back of his head that one day she’d pop up like a mean, STD rash.

Robin felt her eyes getting moist and she wiped at her cheeks angrily. “Where are her and her fleabag fiance now?”

“Oh I put that scumbag in the hospital so hard,” Steve threw the rest of his cigarette out the window and licked his lips. “He’s lucky I didn’t put him in a grave. I’m sure Tina’s already changed her mind, you know how fickle and selfish she is. They were most likely on a bender and thought they’d come through town and fuck with us. They’re probably on their way back to Memphis by now. I don’t want you to worry about it, okay?”

Robin swallowed a few times, trying to allow him to comfort her. She never expected or intended to fall into this roll and be a mother to Steve’s son. But, it happened. Oliver was their son now, and she loved him as much as if he had grown in her womb. And, she would fight to keep him safe with the same level of conviction.

Steve sniffed and adjusted himself in his seat. “Thank you for bailing me out, by the way.”

Robin snorted as she started the car. “Dingus, I could barely afford the gas to drive over here, and you think I had the cash to bail you out? Get real.”

Steve frowned. “Who was it, then? They said I made bail. Otherwise, I’d still be rotting in there.”

“I assumed it was Astrid? Or Eddie?”

Steve shook his head. “Eddie doesn’t know, and Astrid is in the same financial hole we are.”

Robin put the car in drive but kept the break on. “Well, who was it then?” She posed the question as both of them searched their collective data bank memories for a close friend nearby who had more than two pennies to rub together, or something valuable to use as collateral.

Hours later, they still couldn’t think of anyone.

----------

You left Eddie reluctantly so that he could go look for Steve, and you could take a long awaited shower and throw your nicotine-saturated clothes in the wash. The business card with John Gregson’s email, phone number, and private extension was on your dresser, and you stopped to pick it up as you walked across the room. You meant to bring up the situation to Eddie, but the timing was never right. Was John trying to mess with you in the same way his wife wanted to mess with Eddie? You didn’t get a bad feeling from him, but now, after everything with the photos and Charlene paying people off, you weren’t sure.

A voice inside whispered that John could be an ally if you impressed him, and he had the notion to take you under his wing. John was the one with all the power at the end of the day, and if Charlene could play with fire, well then, so could you.

You decided to give him a call first thing Monday, and hopefully make a consultation appointment with him to get a taste for what type of art piece would suit his tastes and needs. You wondered if it was for his office or home? If it was a piece for his personal space at home, would you bump into Charlene while you were there, commiserating with her husband? The idea of getting under Charlene’s skin and making her sweat a little scratched an itch in you that you had not been able to reach for a while.

---------

Part 11

Eddie after reader is done with him image courtesy of @tenthmoon

-----

It's so damn cool that some of you have made it this far and continue to want to know what goes on with reader and our boys! It warms my heart in a way I'm having trouble expressing in words xoxo

-----

Taglist for my other Hell's Belles and Coffin Kings ❤️‍🔥 @texasblues @sidthedollface2 @hideoutside @lilpotatobean2 @dandelionnfluff @munsons-mayhem28 @eddiemunson95 @tlclick73 @clincallyonline17 @kelsiegrin @stylesxmunson @nope-thanks @lofaewrites @layla-loves-ed @seventhlevelofhell @corrodedcoffincumslut @whatwedontdointheshadows @falling-solar-system @miarosso @kurdtbean @micheledawn1975 @lma1986 @emxcast @secretdryrose @bexreadstoomuch @ms1oftheboys @dream-a-little-nightmare @hellv1ra @manicmagicmayhem @etherealglimmer @unfocused81 @notsobubblybaby @trufflshuffle12 @aysheashea @leilalaufeyson02 @ireidsmut @trixyvixx @tenthmoon

#eddie munson x reader #eddiemunsonseries #eddie munson fic #bikereddiemunson #bikersteve #older eddie munson #older!eddie #eddiemunsonsmut #90s au #90s music #older steve harrington

358 notes · View notes

yournameloveskpop · 2 months

Text

Yeonjun’s Fantasy

Paring: Yeonjun x Reader

Warning: NSFW, Smut, hand job, humping, fingering,

Word count: 1709

Yeonjun was sprawled out on the living room floor, idly flicking through channels on the TV, the glow casting shifting light across the room. His bandmates were scattered around, some absorbed in their phones, others half-watching the screen. Y/N was there too, seated comfortably on the couch, with Yeonjun laying down, his head nestled in her lap.

"Isn't this cozy?" Y/N mused, her fingers absentmindedly playing with Yeonjun's hair before drifting down to trace patterns on his arm.

"Mm-hmm," Yeonjun hummed in agreement, his eyes half-closed, reveling in the gentle touch.

The room was filled with the low murmur of the television and the occasional laughter or comment from his bandmates.

Then, almost without thinking, Y/N's fingers began to trace along Yeonjun's stomach, outlining the defined muscles of his six-pack. A comfortable silence enveloped them, punctuated only by the background noise of a sitcom.

Yeonjun couldn't help but feel a flush of pride mixed with a surge of excitement. "You know, I've been working out a lot more recently," he said, a hint of pride in his voice, eyes still fixed on the TV but very much aware of Y/N's touch.

"Oh?" Y/N looked down at him, an eyebrow raised in amusement. "I had noticed. Feels like someone's been really dedicated."

"Yeah," he chuckled, trying to sound nonchalant while his mind raced with thoughts far less innocent. "Just hoping someone appreciates the effort," he added, his voice lowering slightly, a playful look in his eye as he finally turned to meet her gaze.

Y/N laughed softly, her hand pausing in its tracing. "I definitely appreciate it," she said, her tone teasing yet sincere. "It's very...distracting."

The air between them seemed to crackle for a moment, charged with unspoken thoughts and desires. Yeonjun felt a shiver run through him, not just from the touch, but from the myriad of thoughts racing through his mind, imagining scenarios far more intimate than their current setting allowed.

"Maybe later, we can...explore this distraction a bit more," Yeonjun suggested, his voice barely above a whisper, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Y/N simply smiled, a promise in her gaze, as she resumed her gentle tracing, both of them momentarily lost in the anticipation of what was yet to come. As the evening waned and the room emptied of its laughter and chatter, Yeonjun caught Y/N's hand, intertwining his fingers with hers.

"Hey, let's head to my room?" he suggested with a hint of excitement in his voice, his eyes locked on hers, conveying a message only she could understand.

Y/N nodded, a smile playing on her lips, sensing the underlying invitation. "Sure, let's go," she whispered back, her heart starting to race with anticipation.

The corridor was quiet, with only the sound of their footsteps breaking the silence. As they reached his door, Yeonjun turned to her, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of affection and desire.

"Ready for the best part of the night?" he asked, half-teasing, half-serious.

With a shared, conspiratorial smile, they slipped into his room, the door closing softly behind them, sealing them away from the world. No sooner had the latch clicked into place than Yeonjun's lips found Y/N's, pulling her into a deep, passionate kiss. His hands found their way to the back of her neck, guiding her hands to his waist, deepening their connection.

"Mmm," they both moaned into the kiss, the sound soft but filled with desire. "We should be quiet," Y/N breathed out, her voice a whisper against his lips, mindful of the thin walls and the proximity of his bandmates.

"Let's try," Yeonjun whispered back, the challenge in his voice tinged with a knowing smile. "But I can't make any promises."

Her hands began their familiar dance across his abs, pulling at the hem of his shirt, signaling a silent request. He obliged, lifting his arms as she removed his t-shirt, and then hers, deepening the intimacy between them.

With a gentle nudge, Y/N guided him onto his back, positioning herself atop him, echoing the vivid fantasies that had played in his mind earlier. Breaking their kiss, she trailed her lips down his body, her breath warm against his skin as she worshiped the muscles of his six-pack.

Yeonjun couldn't suppress the low groan that escaped him, feeling her shift his joggers, the sensation sending waves of pleasure through him. "You have no idea how much I've thought about this," he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

After moments that felt both endless and fleeting, Y/N paused, looking down at him with a mixture of affection and intent. She removed the last of her clothing, and instead of seeking further intimacy, she positioned herself in a way that fulfilled Yeonjun's daydreams exactly, her movements against his stomach igniting a new kind of passion between them.

"This is...exactly as I imagined," Yeonjun gasped, his hands instinctively reaching to hold her, to feel the reality of their shared moment. "You're incredible."

Y/N smiled, her movements deliberate, a silent answer to his unspoken desires. "I want to make all your thoughts come true," she said, her voice a whisper of promise, as they lost themselves in the reality of their shared fantasy, far removed from the need for silence they had initially sought.

Her voice was a whisper of promise, a soft echo in the dimly lit room. Their eyes locked, a silent understanding passing between them as they ventured deeper into the realm of their shared fantasy. It was a world far removed from the silence they had initially sought, now filled with the intimate symphony of their union.

As she increased her pace, a louder moan escaped her lips, a testament to the intensity of the moment. Yeonjun watched her from beneath, his hands gently resting on her hips, guiding her movements with a tender yet eager touch. In a dance of passion, her hand ventured to his dick, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from him as he involuntarily bucked his hips in response to her touch.

"Oh," she breathed out, her own pleasure mounting as she touched herself, her other hand working wonders on him. Her eyes fluttered closed, a blissful sigh escaping her.

"Wow…" Yeonjun whispered, the sensation overwhelming him.

He bit his lower lip, attempting to stifle any further sounds, though his breath hitched in his effort to remain quiet. The room was charged with an electric energy as they both moved in perfect sync, her hands and hips moving with a fervor that spoke volumes of their nearing climax. Yeonjun felt the build-up, an intense pressure signaling he was close to the edge as well.

He couldn't help but curse softly, the word a whisper against the backdrop of their passion. "Please," he found himself begging, his voice barely above a breath, "Don't stop."

She didn’t, her movements becoming even more desperate, a silent plea for release. Their eyes met once again, a silent conversation happening as they both neared their peak.

"Are you close?" she managed to gasp out, her breaths coming in short bursts.

"So close," Yeonjun admitted, his voice thick with desire. "With you... always with you."

The intimacy of their exchange, coupled with their physical connection, pushed her over the edge. With a final, concerted effort, she reached her climax, her body twitching in response to the overwhelming sensation. Yeonjun felt the warmth of her release, his stomach now glistening from her juice and his own body responding in kind. The sight of her unraveling above him, the sheer intensity of their connection, brought him to his own climax, his release a physical testament to their profound connection.

As they both caught their breath, the room settled into a comfortable silence, the kind that only comes after a shared experience so intense. Yeonjun reached up, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, his touch gentle.

"That was... incredible," he murmured, his voice still laced with the aftermath of their passion.

She nodded, a lazy smile playing on her lips. "We are incredible," she corrected softly, leaning down to capture his lips in a tender kiss.

As their whispers wove a tapestry of promises and breathless confessions, a final tease unfolded. Y/N shifted, her movements purposeful yet gentle, as she leaned down. This departure from Yeonjun's envisioned scenario piqued his curiosity.

“What are you doing?” He watched, entranced, as she took care to clean the aftermath of their shared passion from his stomach.

Their eyes met, a silent conversation in the midst of her tender ministrations, her lips and tongue moving with a grace that held him spellbound.

The intensity of the moment, the connection of their gazes, ignited something within Yeonjun, a spark that blossomed into a blaze of new ideas, new fantasies waiting to be explored.

When the moment passed, Yeonjun couldn't hold back any longer. He reached for her, drawing her up to meet his lips in a kiss that spoke volumes, deep and fervent. Then, with a fluid motion, he shifted their positions, now hovering above her. The message was clear: their night was still young, a canvas yet to be fully painted.

"Did I surprise you?" Y/N's voice was soft, a whisper against his lips, teasing yet tender.

Yeonjun chuckled, his breath warm on her skin. "In the best way," he admitted, his voice low, laced with wonder and a hint of playful reprimand. "You always manage to surprise me."

Y/N smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck, drawing him closer. "Good," she whispered back, "because I'm not done yet."

Yeonjun's heart raced at her words, at the promise they held. "Neither am I," he replied, his voice thick with emotion and desire.

Their conversation, a blend of playful banter and heartfelt admissions, continued as they surrendered to the night, to the exploration of new fantasies, and to the deepening of their bond. Each moment, each touch, and each whisper added another layer to their connection, a testament to the endless possibilities that lay before them.

#tomorrow x together #txt #txt x reader #txt x y/n #txt x you #txt x fem reader #yeonjun txt #txt yeonjun #choi yeonjun x reader #choi yeonjun x you #choi yeonjun imagines #yeonjun x female reader #yeonjun x y/n #yeonjun x you #yeonjun x reader #choi yeonjun #yeonjun #yeonjun choi #yeonjun smut

143 notes · View notes