#i’ve been waiting for this since like late march

[bygoneafternoons]

MY DUDES IT IS HERE

#pink floyd #david gilmour #roger waters #richard wright #nick mason #june 1975 #ivor wynne stadium #4k #8mm film #yall… #i’ve been waiting for this since like late march #and it was worth it #it actually feels magical to watch this #like you’re RIGHT there and it’s not a dream #but…barely any shots of rick :(

[loveinhawkins]

”How do you do it?” Eddie asks.

The question slips out far too late at night, anxiety thrumming in his chest—he’s not escaped the feeling ever since the boathouse, when he simply couldn’t sleep, felt like a fox just waiting for hound dogs to get his scent, ready to run—

Steve doesn’t need him to explain further, as if he can somehow hear a whole lot of what Eddie’s not saying: like when he picked up the phone an hour ago and hadn’t even let Eddie tie himself in knots, had just said, so easily, “I’ll come get you,” like it wasn’t a huge inconvenience, like he’d been the one to call Eddie instead.

He’s considering Eddie from where he lies in bed, leaning on his elbow, and he’s still got the covers off pointedly—and that’s a big thing, Eddie thinks, a big thing he doesn’t know what to do with, because they’ve not talked, not really, not got much beyond the dizzying relief of still being alive.

But even fraught with profound lack of sleep, Eddie doesn’t think he’s misreading the look in Steve’s eyes.

I know, those eyes say, illuminated by the warm light of the bedside lamp. It’s okay, there’s no rush. I’m right here.

Eddie’s never seen that kind of look before. Not towards him.

“Sometimes Robin sleeps over,” Steve says thoughtfully. “And sometimes the kids are around, and they’re so annoying and I get, like, three hours, tops.” He says it with all the fondness in the world. “And sometimes I’m alone, and it’s fine.”

“What about the other times?” Eddie can’t help but whisper.

If it were a reasonable hour maybe he wouldn’t dare to ask at all, but exhaustion’s worn down the filter in his head—at this point it’s practically see-through.

Steve shrugs. “Yeah, they’re shit,” he says with such honesty that Eddie nearly asks it again, how do you do it?

“But then it’s, like, a new day,” Steve says slowly, like he’s carefully weighing up what to say, “and I can… drive.” The pause tells Eddie he means go to someone. “Or, like… call, if it’s really bad.”

Hey, I’m glad you called, man, Steve had said when Eddie got into his car earlier, like they were just going to the movies or something normal—like Eddie wasn’t shaking, forehead pressed against the passenger window.

Eddie feels his throat close up a little. Tries to sniff as quietly as possible.

“Eddie,” Steve says patiently. He moves back in the bed. Gives Eddie space. “C’mere.”

Steve keeps the lamp on which helps; this isn’t the boathouse, Eddie thinks, and the slightest bit of tension leaves his body. Even that feels like a miracle.

He’s just resigning himself to lying there, staring up at the ceiling so at least Steve can get some rest, when Steve turns and catches his eye, still wide awake.

“Tell me about The Lord of the Rings,” Steve says.

The tightness in Eddie’s chest loosens; he laughs in surprise. “What?”

“You heard me.”

Eddie turns so he’s facing Steve properly, attempts a casual shrug, knowing already that it’ll be too rigid. “I don’t know, man. We, uh. We kinda lived through Mordor already.”

His hand twists in the bedsheets, knuckles turning white.

I don’t know how to do this. I’ve never had…

Steve’s hand reaches across, eases Eddie’s grip on the sheets, like he’s saying, neither did I. Just give it a shot.

“The shire, then,” Steve says.

Eddie smiles. “Steve Harrington,” he says, suddenly finding enough lightness to tease; he’s missed it. “Are you asking me for a bedtime story?”

“Nope,” Steve says. “We’re just gonna lie here and talk.”

And they do.

Steve asks questions which works out for the best—Eddie can’t quite remember the last time he read the books. To tell the truth, anything that happened before March often has a kind of fog over it.

He’s sure he’s dropped at least a couple of plot points somewhere along the way, but Steve never once complains that he’s not making sense, just gently prompts Eddie until… until…

“Mm, I know what you’re doing,” Eddie mumbles through a yawn that catches him unawares.

“Oh, do you now?” Steve says, sounding smug. God, Eddie loves him. “Is it working?”

“Maybe.” Eddie says. His eyelids are heavy. “Um.” He yawns again. “Where… where was I?”

“Don’t worry about it, man,” Steve says. It sounds like he’s smiling—Eddie would check, but it’s suddenly impossible to keep his eyes open.

It’s okay, he thinks hazily, melting into sleep without even thinking about it. He can ask Steve in the morning.

There’s no rush.

#on struggling with the aftermath #the trust in falling asleep in front of someone ❤️ #this may have a second part #a lil anxiety soothing stuff ❤️ #pre steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson

[sydnikov]

Jersey || J. Hughes

Author: Sydney / @sydnikov

Pairing: Jack Hughes/fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.5k

Summary: You and Jack got into a fight before he left for a game. To get back at him, you showed up at the bar you knew the Devils frequented after they won a game wearing the other team’s jersey. Only, a fan of said-team’s jersey gets a little too handsy, and even when fighting, Jack won’t stand for another man touching his girl.

Warnings: Cursing, alcohol consumption, touching w/out consent, mild and/or potential assault, kissing, mild angst, lots of fluff at the end

A/N: This is purely self-indulgent… Though I am a little nervous because I’ve never been a Jack Hughes girlie until recently, plus before my beloved hurricanes eliminated the devils I was battling my growing hatred for him LMAO but, anyways, I still have never written for him before, so lemme know what y’all think about this one... Happy reading <3

“Are you done yet?” Jack Hughes said as he raced around the apartment looking for his bag, briefly casting you a look of irritation as he rushed by.

Scowling, you merely spun around to follow his movements. “Did you even hear a word I just said?”

Jack released a sound of triumph as he found his bag by the couch and threw it over his shoulder. “About what?” he asked, purposefully dodging the topic you were trying to hint at. “You bitching about my ‘nighttime activities’ again?” he muttered, intending to just push back your problem with him for another day.

“I heard that,” you hissed, taking brief satisfaction in the way his neck flushed red at being caught. “So, what, I’m just some nagging girlfriend to you, then? Is that it?”

Jack sighed, rubbing a hand down his face as he tied the last lace on his shoe. “I don’t know, babe,” he said. “Can we just do this later?” Finally, he met your eyes for the first time that evening and found stubbornness and frustration staring back at him.

“So you can stay out until four in the morning again doing God knows what?” You scoffed, crossing your arms.

Jack, fed up, stood up and merely shook his head. He said your name through gritted teeth, a spark of genuine anger showing for the first time since starting this conversation. “I have a game to get to. I don’t know what your problem is but you’re really getting on my nerves right now and I really don’t want to hear it.”

Jack, feeling slightly guilty at the way he just spoke to you but not wanting to be the first to apologize, deliberately avoided looking at your face before grabbing his phone and marching out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

“Fuck,” he muttered, tugging at his hair once before releasing a strained breath. Not able to stop himself, Jack looked back at your shared apartment and debated being late to his game just to talk to you, but his stubbornness ultimately won out and with one shake of his head, he tried to cast you and your fight out of his mind until after he came home.

You’d still be there, waiting for him like always, after all, right?

You, meanwhile, stared at the door your boyfriend had just walked through in shock. Anger, frustration, confusion, and the strongest of them all: hurt, rolled through you in waves as you processed the conversation that just happened.

And the ‘problem’ you had with Jack, exactly?

It started out small—nothing huge, or anything. Jack didn’t have many red flags, if any at all – unless you counted him being a professional hockey player – so the fact that you’d been having so many problems recently was a mystery to you, as well.

Well, your relationship had just reached the 1-year milestone, and you only moved in together about a month ago… That’s when you started having problems, you supposed.

Jack’s season playing for the New Jersey Devils had started out strong immediately, and it was clear this was going to be one of his best seasons yet if not the best. The NHL was booking interviews with him, the Devils’ social media had practically turned into a Jack fan page, and the city had just fallen in love with him.

He absorbed the attention like a sponge, of course, like he couldn’t get enough of it. While he was clearly riding the high of being such a hot player right now, he hadn’t ever let it get to his head. His teammates, family, you, would never let him hear the end of it if his ego got too big.

So, here begs the question: why was Jack coming home later and later, texting you when away less, coming up with excuses on why he had to bail on weekly date nights?

Your insecurities had been eating you up lately, and the fact that Jack didn’t even see the problem made it worse. Was he cheating on you? You couldn’t help but ask yourself during many late nights, curled up in the bed you shared, alone, staring at the digital clock on the bedside table as the hours crept by.

Inhaling a shaky breath, you wiped at your eyes before finally tearing them away from the front door after accepting he wasn’t coming back. Making your way to the kitchen, you poured yourself a glass of water to cool your heated body when the vibration of your phone from your pocket interrupted you.

Feeling your heart swell with the hope that maybe it was Jack, you quickly pulled it out only to be disappointed when it was just one of your friends—then you felt bad for feeling disappointed because you loved your friends, as pushy as they could be, sometimes.

Want to hit up a bar? Is what one of them texted in a group chat with you and a few others. Normally, on a night like this where you were wallowing in the emptiness felt by Jack’s continued absence, you’d deny such an offer and merely drown yourself in the cheap wine you kept stashed, but…

A notification from a Devils news site interrupted your thoughts, and that’s where a devious idea struck your mind. Your boyfriend’s team was playing the Philadelphia Flyers tonight, a division rival, and you just so happened to have a close friend who was from the area.

I’m in, you responded to the group chat and couldn’t help but laugh at the string of fire emojis that followed. Wiping the remaining tears from your eyes, you texted said-Philly friend separately and asked if she had any jerseys she’d be willing to spare.

The text bubble that showed she was typing appeared, and then her response came. I have a Konecny jersey. Why?

Perfect.

Two hours later, you were in an Uber on your way to the designated club for the night which just so happened to be a bar that your boyfriend and his teammates frequented after a win. You sported black flared jeans and stilettos, and the star piece of your whole look: a Philadelphia Flyers jersey stamped with Travis Konecny’s name.

You wholeheartedly intended for Jack to see it to rile him up; he had a vicious jealousy streak, and a time like this was the perfect time to ignite it, especially after the 7-0 shutout win they took tonight.

Once you arrived, you tipped the Uber driver and walked in, a happy sway to your step because you felt like you were finally gaining the upper hand in your little feud with your boyfriend. As you walked into the club you were immediately bombarded with the sounds of booming music and flashing lights—the red-to-orange jersey ratio was almost comical, for the amount of ecstatic Devils fans far beat the few Flyers fans scattered throughout the room.

Drunken cheers of your name made you giggle as you found the table your friends had claimed. Like almost every patron in the bar, they were all sporting New Jersey Devils' colors or merch in some way—except for you and the friend who lent you the jersey you were currently wearing, of course.

“Never took you for a Philly fan,” said one of the girls, followed by several agreements. “What’s Jack gonna say when he sees you?”

So he was here, then, you hummed to yourself, briefly scanning the room for any sign of the team. “He’s here already?” you casually asked, leaning back against the booth and sipping on the drink one of your friends handed you.

“Yeah, they’re over in the booth across from us,” they pointed, helping you locate a large group of men and women who you, sure enough, identified as New Jersey Devils players and fan girls hanging off their arms. Feeling your heart seize up because what if Jack had someone hanging off of him, you only released the breath you’d been holding when you saw him near the back of the group talking to Nico.

Your friends saw the brief look of trepidation on your face and didn’t take long to fit the puzzle pieces together. “Are you and Jack still having problems?”

Smiling bitterly, you only shrugged. “Nothing too bad, really. I just want to get back at him for taking me for granted, y’know?”

Immediately, more shots were ordered and you couldn’t help but grin as you tossed the alcohol down your throat, feeling immensely better with the slight buzz that came after.

More confident, too.

Tossing your hair over your shoulder, you announced you were going to the bathroom but merely used it as an excuse to walk by the Devils group, intent on catching your boyfriend’s eye.

Feeling an arm brush against you, you were momentarily distracted when you turned around to find a man about your age looking down at you with a grin that told you he was already several shots ahead of you. He was sporting a Flyers jersey, too.

“You from Philly?” you think the man asked, but it was hard to understand the slur of his words over the loud boom of the music.

You gave him a tightlipped smile before giving your response. Despite the fact you were on a mission to make your boyfriend jealous, you weren’t actually wanting nor intending to cross a line. “No,” you shrugged, taking a small step back. “But I can still be a fan, right?”

As the man laughed, you turned your head back towards where you last saw Jack and sucked in a breath when you saw the look on his face.

Jack had seen you the moment you walked into the bar. He was just drawn to you like that, noticed every little detail about you—including the bright orange Flyers jersey you were currently wearing that made him clench his hand around his drink so hard the glass almost shattered.

What the fuck? He practically growled as he watched you walk up to your friends without sparing him a glance. You hadn’t noticed him yet, and he wasn’t sure if that made him feel relieved or guilty, because what were you even doing here? You normally always stayed in.

Then Jack had the realization that oh, yeah, you did always stay in—because of him, his schedule, his late nights, and he couldn’t even be bothered to come home to you until the early hours of the morning.

Well then, he thought. That solved the mystery of why you’d been so pissed off at him lately.

The forward anxiously ran a hand through his hair. He couldn’t blame you, either.

“Why do you look like you just fucked up?” Nico’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and Jack only cast him a quick glance before relocating you just as you stood up from your booth.

“Because I did,” he said, not taking his eyes off of you as some idiot wearing a Flyers jersey grabbed your attention. “Badly. Very badly.”

Nico followed his teammate’s gaze, furrowing his brow in confusion until he saw you, wearing a—

“Oh,”

Jack had the face of one who couldn’t decide if he wanted to kill you or the guy next to you who still hadn’t taken the hint that you weren’t nearly as interested in him as he was in you. The centerman’s eyes were abnormally dark in the club’s dim lighting, simmering with jealousy and protectiveness.

But that was the entire point of coming here tonight, wasn’t it?

Plastering on a wide, fake smile, you met your boyfriend’s searing gaze and merely shot him a pointed look before attempting to make conversation with the inadvertently talkative man still blabbering on beside you.

He was handsome in a rugged kind of way if you were into that sort of thing, and towered over you in both height and weight much like Jack, but whereas with your boyfriend the size difference made you feel safe and protected, this guy just made you feel smothered and uncomfortable.

He was well past drunk, though, so you figured he couldn’t do that much harm. You hadn’t let him come very close to you either and were trying to maintain a respectful distance knowing Jack was probably having a very hard time restraining himself from marching over and making a scene.

You were just trying to get back at him, as petty as it may be…

The man whose name you later found out to be Todd managed to keep a fifteen-minute conversation going on about himself – which you found mildly impressive – so when he finally started to trail off, you began to make your escape.

“Nice talking with you, but my friends are probably looking for me,” you said, dodging Todd’s attempts at trying to touch you.

“Awe, c’mon, babe, I’m sure they don’t care,” Todd tried to wink, but it looked like he was having some type of muscle spasm instead. You nervously laughed, trying to back away, but then he suddenly stepped in front of you and got so close you could smell the alcohol on his breath.

“Don’t be a tease, now,” he slurred, his eyes heavy-lidded and dark. You tried backing away, but quickly hit the counter of the bar where you were now caged in. Fuck, you gulped, feeling very uncomfortable as he crept his hands up your waist. “Get off me, please,” you said, trying to sound stern, but even you could hear the shakiness in your words.

Panicked, your eyes darted around the room looking for any of your friends you came with or even any of the guys you passed earlier, but in the darkness of the club, you came up empty. You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling helpless and regretting all of your life choices leading up to this moment, and tried to get away from the face that was steadily creeping closer until you heard a voice all too familiar.

A thunderous voice suddenly boomed over the music, and your eyes shot open in shock at the sight in front of you.

“Get the fuck off of her,” Jack's voice was livid, the edges of a growl erupting from his chest as you watched his hand clamp down on Todd’s shoulder to forcefully yank him away. “Ever heard of consent, asshole?”

You watched, stunned, as your boyfriend’s dark eyes glared daggers into Todd’s whose collar was currently in his grasp. Jack might have been a few inches shorter, but he was stronger and clearly more sober as Todd stumbled in his grasp.

“Dude, chill,” you sucked in a breath as he tried pleading with your murderous-looking boyfriend. “I didn't know she was your girl,” trying to get away from a potential brawl, you stumbled back and in your confusion ran right into someone.

Having just been practically assaulted, you jumped as a hand came to rest on your shoulder. You were sure you resembled something of a startled animal and felt almost embarrassed at the situation you found yourself in.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, it’s just me!” Nico’s reassuring voice immediately had you relaxing, and you released a breath as you spun around to face him. Gladly taking the arm the captain offered, you smiled shakily.

“You okay?” He asked once you were safely next to him. You nodded slowly, blinking past the slight pounding of your head. “Yeah,” you replied, your eyes finding Jack and Todd still exchanging heated words a few feet away.

They had won your attention back just in time for you to watch the centerman shove your drunken pursuer to the floor and then step away immediately before doing something worse.

Jack’s eyes quickly found yours as he brushed his hair away from his face, scanning up and down your body for any sign of injury. You knew he was furious with you, but even pissed beyond belief, he was still the most attractive man in the world to you because of how he put your safety and well-being first.

He walked up to you then, nodding his thanks to his teammate for keeping you safe before pulling you into his chest. “Are you okay?” He murmured into the top of your hair, one of his hands squeezing your hip reassuringly.

You inhaled your boyfriend’s scent, burying your face in his shirt and reveling in the comfort his mere presence brought you. “I’m okay,” you whispered, feeling tired now that the night’s events had started to catch up to you. “I love you,”

You felt him murmur the exact words back, the tension slowly leaving his body the longer he held you in his arms and away from the idiot who had his hands on you.

Jack stepped back after a moment, keeping you tucked into his side with a protective arm wrapped around your waist. You kept your face pressed into his side, not yet willing to face reality.

All you wanted right now was him. And your bed, too.

“We’re going to head home for the night,” the centerman said to the rest of the group, hearing no disagreements as they spoke their goodbyes. You lifted your head only slightly to say your own goodbye, giving an extra thankful smile to Nico who merely waved you off.

As you finished talking to the rest of his teammates, you tapped Jack's shoulder and spoke into his ear over the loud music. “I’m going to say bye to my friends real quick,”

Jack had a look of apprehension and even worry on his face, so you stood up on your toes to press a quick kiss to his lips. “I’ll be fast, okay?”

“Okay,” he said. “But nothing more than that. I’ll be by the door.”

You cast him a grateful smile before slipping away, locating two of your friends still sitting at the booth looking far more inebriated than before. “Jack and I are heading home,” you told them.

“Oh! You guys worked it out?”

You bit your lip, fiddling with one of your sleeves. Huh, orange wasn’t really your color.  “Not exactly,” quickly glancing back towards your boyfriend waiting by the club doors, you winced when you saw his darkened expression. “He’s a little angry with me…”

“Because of the jersey?” they asked, curious. “That’s what you wanted, right?”

You decided you were going to blame the hideous Flyers jersey you were wearing for the series of unfortunate events that happened tonight.

Speaking of, you needed to give it back to the friend who lent it to you, at some point.

“I’ll see you guys,” you muttered, purposefully dodging their questions as you waved goodbye. Luckily, they were too drunk to argue.

You made your way back through the crowd, Jack meeting you halfway to lace your fingers together before leading you to the exit. His pace was quick, and determined, making you wonder just what exactly he had planned.

The cold Jersey air sobered you immensely once you were outside, ridding you of the effects the alcohol had left on you earlier. You finally got a clear look at your boyfriend then, admiring the sharp cut of his jawline and the way he was still fuming even as you walked to his car.

“Jack?” you tried, watching as he pulled open the passenger door for you. “Get in,” he said, avoiding your imploring eyes. “And take that off. You know it looks awful,” he added the last part as an afterthought, scowling at the sight of you wearing a jersey sans his name.

You thought about making a joke but decided against it when you saw the look on his face. He didn't look like he was in the mood for games right now, and something told you you didn't want to test him.

“I’m not wearing anything underneath,” you responded meekly. You heard Jack sigh, and you briefly looked up to find him pulling out a hoodie he had in his backseat.

It was red, of course, a Devils hoodie with his surname printed on the back. The hockey player stared at you, arms crossed and eyebrows raised and that's when you realized he was waiting.

“What, you mean change now?” you squeaked, feeling your eyes widen at the seriousness in his eyes. “Jack, we’re in a public parking lot,”

“And?” he asked, almost sassy considering the situation. “You really think I’ll let anyone look at you?” his muscled arms tensed out of reflex, further cementing his point.

You clenched your jaw, opening your mouth to argue, but then Jack took two quick strides towards you until you were standing chest-to-chest.

He said your name once, placing his hands on your waist to pull you closer. “I almost beat that guy back in the bar to death for placing his hands on you. I would have, actually, if it weren’t for seeing you look so scared next to Nico,” he murmured, staring into your eyes so deeply you couldn’t look away.

“It’s bad enough having to see you wear our rival’s jersey, which I deserve, by the way, because I’ve been an ass to you—but if I have to see you wearing someone’s name that isn’t my own for the rest of the night any longer, I might commit a crime.

“Please,” he breathed, tilting his head downwards to brush your lips together. “Take off the damn jersey.”

All you could do was nod. Yes sir. You maintained eye contact all while you slipped the jersey from your shoulders, feeling immensely better without the scratchy fabric on your skin. Jack wordlessly handed you his hoodie, and you slid it on without complaint.

It was several sizes too big for you; it was loose around your waist and hips and the sleeves were too long for your arms, but you didn’t care one bit because it smelled just like him and made you feel safe and warm and most importantly:

Home.

Jack raked his eyes up and down your body in approval, but he was still tense even as he opened the passenger door for you and shut it once you were in without a word.

You had a feeling you were going to be in for it when you got home, and even with his anger – whether it was directed at you or himself – you didn’t quite blame him.

The only thing you weren’t quite sure of is if he was angry because you semi-flirted with another man or wore a jersey that wasn’t his… Both are completely plausible possibilities.

Jack, meanwhile, had to stop himself from looking your way because he knew he was going to snap, and that wasn’t fair on you. Yes, he had to sit back and watch another guy blatantly hit on you while wearing the opposing team’s jersey, but… You didn’t reciprocate any advances, and he would never fault you for the actions of another.

Just the mere thought of the jackass who had his hands on you made his knuckles turn white on the grip he had on the steering wheel. If not for the terrified look on your face to snap him out of it, he had no doubt he would have pummeled the guy to the ground.

And at the same time, he knew he wasn’t angry with you but angry with himself instead because you had done nothing to warrant his behavior towards you and could even go as far as to say he deserved it, too.

He just wished he hadn’t walked out on you before—you wouldn’t have been almost assaulted if he hadn’t.

Alas, his anger – no matter who it was directed at – radiating off of him in waves was palpable and kept you tense and unsure of what to say or do the entire ride home.

When you finally arrived back at the apartment, the two of you remained silent as you worked around each other in getting ready for bed. For the first time in months he was going to fall asleep in the same bed as you, at the same time, you noted.

The brooding centerman muttered something aloud from the other side of the room, and you looked at him questionably. Jack met your eyes, an emotion unknown brewing in his own that made you curious.

“Orange is such an ugly color,” he said. “What convinced you to even wear that?”

A teasing mood he was in, then. “To make you jealous. Did it work?”

Jack scoffed, taking a few steps forward to playfully grab at your hips causing you to grip his biceps for stability. “It worked, alright,” he murmured, and then his eyes turned dark as he remembered the night’s end result before the two of you left. “I would’ve pummeled him if it weren’t for the guys.”

You bit your lip at the sight of his protectiveness for you written all over his face, hating that you were having a serious conversation now and all you could think about was how attractive he is.

“Then you would have gotten arrested, and probably suspended from the team,” you replied, bringing his attention back to you. Jack cracked a small smile, hair falling over his eyes as his gaze dropped.

“Worth it.” your boyfriend then brought you in close to wrap his arms around you, burying his head in his favorite spot where your neck met your shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he whispered after a moment, his grip on you tightening.

You had no complaints at his sudden burst of physical affection and happily burrowed your head in his chest, breathing in his comforting scent. “For what?”

You might have accepted the fact he was trying to make up for all the fighting over the last few months, but you weren’t just going to let it go, either.

After all, it was only due to you going out of your way to invoke such a strong reaction that got him to pull his head out of his ass.

“For everything,” his mind raced over all the ways he had been treating you wrongly, and had a hard time forming his words in such a way that covered it all. “For never coming home to you, and acting like you were ridiculous for feeling insecure,” he quickly clarified.

You made a noncommittal noise, muffled by the fabric of his shirt your face was pressed against. “I felt crazy—still do feel kind of crazy,” the tears came back then, the emotions – anger, frustration, sadness, fear – of the night catching up to you. “Did I… Was I doing something wrong?”

Jack felt his heart break at the sheer amount of emotion in your voice, and while knowing that the alcohol in your system was partly to blame for your unfiltered honesty, he knew the words you were speaking were still true.

He had to approach this conversation delicately.

He whispered your name, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek and sliding it under your chin so you’d meet his eyes. “Hey, hey, don’t cry, okay? I hear you. You’re valid, how you’re feeling is valid.

“I’m the stupid one, okay? You did nothing wrong. Absolutely nothing. Well—except for wearing that jersey. But, hey, I don’t even blame you for that, either. I deserved it, yeah?”

“I’m sorry,” you said, not willing to accept his apology because you still felt like he was being too forgiving.

Jack, not being able to stand you hiding from him, gently brought both his hands to your face so he could bring you closer and press a kiss to your lips. “Stop demeaning yourself. You’re better than that—certainly better than me.”

Your laugh was shaky, remnants of tears in your voice undeniable. “I don’t know. I wore that stupid jersey, after all. To make you mad. Deliberately.”

“And it worked,” he replied, refusing to let you shy away from him when you tried ducking your head again. “Very well, in fact. It was really smart, actually; I’m almost proud of you for thinking of it.”

Jack was already making you feel miles better compared to how you were feeling before, and you knew he was using his humor on purpose. His corny jokes were what drew you to him in the first place, after all.

“Almost proud?” you couldn’t help but tease back. “Maybe I should wear a Hurricanes jersey next time. Ooh, or the Rangers,”

The centerman had enough then, and with a wicked grin threw you over his shoulder to bring you into the bathroom. You weren’t drunk, but you were a bit tipsy, and he just wanted to use it as an excuse to really take care of you.

He also just felt really bad, like a shitty boyfriend, too. He had a lot of making up to do and knew this was only the first step.

“There will be no jerseys owned by you unless they are Devils’ red and have my name on the back, yeah?” you pouted as he set you down on the counter next to the sink.

“Fine. Orange is an ugly color, anyways.”

Jack hummed in agreement as he wet a washcloth with warm water and then began to gently wipe down your face. He worked in silence, concentrated on the task at hand while you just admired his face.

Okay, yeah, you were still a little tipsy. Your boyfriend always looked good, but maybe it was just about what happened tonight that had you really appreciating his looks.

“What’re you staring at?” Jack said, biting his lip to hide the grin threatening to break through. He loved that you couldn’t keep your eyes off him.

“You,” you replied with no hesitation, giggling when he proceeded to wipe directly over your eye at your witty comment. “I can’t help it. You’re just so pretty. Why do you like me, again?”

Your boyfriend scoffed, tossing the washcloth somewhere on the sink before pulling you closer to him. “Pretty? What if I lose a tooth, would you still like me then?” he briefly washed his hands, and then turned back to you. “And why do I love you, you mean? That’s easy. Let me show you.”

“Show me?” you muttered, your brain still running slow. “What do you mean, ‘show me’—”

That’s when he interrupted you by picking you up, moving your legs to wrap around his waist before carrying you to the bed.

Jack kicked off his shoes before falling on his back first while taking you with him. You ended up sprawled on his chest, his arms holding you close as you tilted your head up to meet his eyes.

“Being able to manhandle me is why you love me?” you said teasingly. “Noted,”

The centerman groaned dramatically. Knowing you were about to speak, he interrupted your next sentence by kissing you and grinned into your lips when you sighed with pleasure and brought your hands up to tangle in his hair.

“Done being sassy now?” your boyfriend hummed as he slowly pulled back, looking every bit the mischievous devil as the team he played for.

“Hmm,” you blinked lazily, stretching as if you were a satisfied cat, and wrapped your arms around his neck to keep him close. “As long as you stay here with me,”

“I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

A few minutes later of the two of you making up for lost time, you had eventually moved to be cuddling under the bed sheets as the little spoon, just how you liked it.

“Don’t wear that jersey again,” Jack grumbled into your neck, pressing a few butterfly kisses to the skin exposed to the air.

“Seriously?” you giggled, attempting to turn around in his arms but being stopped due to the strength of his hold.

“Dead serious. It almost killed me.”

You were used to his dramatics by now but knew he was speaking from his heart because jerseys really did mean a lot to sports players, hockey players especially. Wearing Jack’s name might have just been superficial, but it was still a sure thing and a testament to the seriousness of your relationship.

Wearing someone else’s name, especially someone from an opposing team, was an insult to that even though it was just a piece of clothing at the end of the day.

“Better stay on my good side, then,” you teased, but knew you wouldn’t ever wear any other jersey but Jack’s again. He learned his lesson, as did you.

Teasingly nipping at your neck, your boyfriend merely laughed before burying his head in your shoulder and closing his eyes.

You snuggled closer to the warm wall of muscle behind you, reveling in the comfort of knowing your relationship was stronger than ever.

“I love you,” you said, quietly, staring out the window as the stars looked down upon you.

“Love you, too,” Jack whined at the sharp pain he felt from your arm as it swatted at him, and then quickly clarified. “I mean, I love you—I love you, too!”

You grinned, and you knew he could practically feel it which made the small victory even more satisfactory.

Jack muttered something else under his breath, one word suspiciously sounding like ‘jersey’, and then he was out like a light.

Exasperatedly, you sighed. Hockey players.

You wouldn’t wear a jersey that didn’t have the name ‘Hughes’ and his number printed on it ever again.

A/N: Did you guys like the missing tooth reference? One of my favorite lines in this tbh, I just love poking fun at situations like those lol. Anyways, please please please reblog and comment because it means the world to me and makes writing so much more worth it. I hope y’all enjoyed :))

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#jack hughes #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes imagines #jack hughes fic #jack hughes fanfic #jack hughes fanfiction #jack hughes x reader #new jersey devils #new jersey devils imagine #new jersey devils imagines #devils imagine #devils lb #devs lb #nhl hockey #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl writing #writing #fanfiction #'jersey'

[linos-luna]

Hi gorgeous 💞

I hope you're doing well (I was worried af)

If it's not too much to ask but my birthday is on 14th March so can you write a yandere hyunjin x f reader smut where the reader who is already held hostage is given a gift by hyunjin (just surprise me with your writing girl)?

I would seriously appreciate it from my heart ❤️

Wanna see a manipulative, toxic and delusional hyunjin in love with me 😩

Bye 👋

Sorry it’s late! I’ve been so busy! 😭

Happy late birthday 🎊

———————————————————

Work of Art 🔪

Yandere!Hyunjin x Reader

Warnings: Yandere!, 18+, slight Stockholm Syndrome?, Slapping, Hair pulling, Emotional manipulation

—————————————— 💞

It’s been two months. Two months since you lost your freedom. Hyunjin was obsessed. He wants you to keep you in his home forever. If he goes out, he handcuffed you to the bed frame. Although lately he hasn’t done that. Probably because now you don’t move. You seemed to have given up on trying.

The days blended together so you didn’t even realize that today was your birthday. You stayed in bed until noon, only waking when some light from the window hit your face. You sat up, only to see Hyunjin standing at the door. Watching.

“Good morning, my love.” He said with a soft smile. “Today is a special day!”

“What….?” You mumbled.

“How could you forget?! It’s your birthday, silly!” He chuckled while going to you and leaning in to kiss you.

You were silent, actually surprised that you forgot your own birthday.

The man stroked your hair as he waited for your kiss although you didn’t budge. This seemed to frustrate him and he pulled your hair so your lips touch his. “Y/n!” He whined.

Reluctantly, you kiss him. He bit your lip and kissed you with lots of passion.

Sure you kissed back but not with as much vigor as him. This only hurts his heart.

“Y/n! I don’t understand…” he whined. “why…? Why won’t you love me like I love you!”

“Hyunjin, you kidnapped me!”

“Because I love you!”

“This isn’t love!!” You interrupted. “This�� this is hell!”

“No no no… i-I’m sorry! It shouldn’t be!” Hyunjin frowned and dropped to his knees while holding your hand. “I only wanted to show you love and cherish you. I want to spoil you!”

“Hyunjin—”

“I’m sorry, y/n…” He pouts, giving you sad eyes, “I-i never meant to hurt you…”

“Hyunjin… you—!”

“No no I'm awful!” He interrupted while starting to cry. “I-I just want someone to love… I-I’ve never had someone love and care like you do. You’re so genuine and kind…”

He continued rambling. From his rough upbringing to his desire for love. He’s all alone in this world and it had your heart breaking for him.

“I-I have a gift for you…” he said softly. “Please. I worked so hard on it.”

“O-okay…” you nodded reluctantly.

Joy lit up his face and he quickly left the room. As soon as he left, the tears were gone. It was as if he flipped off the emotion like a light switch. Instead, he smiled to himself.

Hyunjin came back in the bedroom with a canvas. You were a bit confused until he turned it around. It was you. A painted picture of you sleeping. The style made you look angelic.

It was beautiful but also unnerving. When did he paint this? Was he watching you while sleeping? Every minuet detail of your features was there. Every mole and blemish was painted in great detail.

“Wow, Hyunjin… it’s very nice.” You said slowly while studying it. You couldn’t lie, it really was an amazing painting.

“Oh, my love. I’m glad you love it!” He smiled. “I worked so hard to capture your essence! You truly are a work of art!”

You couldn’t help blushing. You’ve never had a compliment like that and it was giving you butterflies in your stomach.

“Thank you, Hyunjin… I-I really do love it…”

“Oh good!” He was excited as he leaned in close. “Please, my love. May I kiss you?”

There was a moment of silence before you nod.

———— 💞

Dinner was a bit awkward. You sat in silence as he fed you.

“Do you like it?” He said suddenly.

“I do but… Hyunjin I can feed myself.”

“No darling. Don’t worry about that.” He said while putting more meat on the fork.

“No really—…” you grab the fork from him, about to raise it to your mouth before he suddenly slapped it away.

“Hyunjin—!”

Before you could finish, there was a swift slap to your face.

“No! Only I can feed you!” Hyunjin yelled suddenly.

You held your cheek in shock, too stunned to speak.

“Oh I’m so sorry!! My love, I'm sorry!!” He suddenly switched up and got to his knees, dropping the bowl of food to the ground, but he didn’t seem to care.

“No! Don’t cry! Don’t be mad!” He begged while grabbing into each side of your hair and pulling you close. “Please forgive me! I love you!”

“A-agh! Hyunjin!” You whimpered as he tugged harder.

“My darling. My sweet girl, please!”

He pulled harder, making you drop from your seat to the floor.

“J-Jinnie! You’re hurting me!!”

“W-what?!” He paused, still holding onto your hair. “No! No im not!!”

“Jinnie stop!”

“No you stop!” He yelled. “I love you! I’m just trying to love you!!” His voice broke as tears formed and it made you stop dead in your tracks.

“Hyunjin…”

“No! You don’t love me!” He sobbed. “I-I thought I finally found my soulmate… one that will love me as much as I love her!” Hyunjin wiped some tears while looking at you. “I-I’ve never had that kind of love. My M-mother left! A-And father would beat me! I-I only wish you give the love I never received!”

Whether this story was true or not -it’s not-, you wouldn’t be able to tell. But his vulnerability and tears tugged at your heartstrings.

“Hyunjin….”

“No! Just go!” He cried. “Just leave me! Leave me all alone! I’m used to it!” He pulled some keys from his pocket and threw them in front of you.

You were frozen in place. You felt awful. Pure guilt. How could you hurt him like this?? All he wanted was love. You felt like a monster.

Without much thinking, you hugged him tight. “I-I’m sorry, Jinnie.”

Hyunjin leaned into your hug, making himself look as small and vulnerable as possible while continuing to weep.

“It’s okay… it’s okay…” you whispered while rubbing his back.

“C-can I… can I give you a bath?” He asked softly. “I-I wanted to spoil you with a little… at home spa…”

You pulled away and looked at him. Here he was crying and expressing his deepest emotions and traumas, and yet he was still thinking of you. He was still wanting to spoil and shower you with love.

You only nodded and Hyunjin smiles before kissing your forehead and leaving to the restroom, getting some of the soaps and candles ready.

It made you feel guilty. Perhaps you have this all wrong. He really does have a good heart. Perhaps you’ve never experienced real love. Maybe… this is what true love is.

Hyunjin had no more tears. This face had cleared up so fast as soon as he entered the restroom. In fact he had a smile. A satisfied one, like a spoiled child that got his way. It was just too easy.

Hyunjin walked to the bedroom, grabbing a robe for you, stopping by the painting. He took a deep breath while running his fingers along your painted nude body.

He turned back to the restroom, mustering up some tears red cheeks before calling out to you.

"Come on, my love! The bath is ready!'

#kpop #kpop x reader #fanfic #kpop imagines #kpop smut #stray kids #skz x reader #stray kids smut #stray kids x poc reader #stray kids yandere #yandere stray kids #yandere hyunjin x reader #yandere hyunjin #skz hyunjin #hyunjin x poc reader #skz yandere #kpop yandere

[gyuvision]

goodnight ricky

wc ; 1k - pairing ; ricky shen x fem reader

summary ; before your roommate left she promised she’d find you a replacement. 3 years later she never did, until now, leaving you as confused as ever while you looked at the 6ft male sitting in your room.

contains -> fluff/slight angst

you came back late, having class at a top (and painfully competitive) med school plus the late shift at the local coffee shop. you were tired especially during exams. all you wanted was to stay in your bed and read a book, or sleep for the rest of the night. however you pleased.

so naturally being that exhausted you were absolutely not expecting the man sitting in your desk, drawing towards the conclusion that you were hallucinating and that maybe sleep sounded like a better idea than a book.

“someone told me to wait for you here”

“what?”

“you know, your roommate?”

oh. right.

your roommate was your best friend. you were inseparable, shared the same dreams, got into the same college together.

but everything changed. she got a boyfriend, and suddenly your future wasn’t as intertwined as you originally planned it to be.

they broke up and she realized she wasn’t sure what she wanted. everything about her had changed and your schedule almost never lined up because of how many times she changed it for her ex.

so, she cut ties, peacefully. she explained she no longer wanted the same thing as you and left but promised to visit soon and that she’d find someone to take her place because she knew how much you hated being on your own.

guess that explained why the man (who you later knew as shen quanrui) was waiting for you, in the same spot she always waited for you to come home.

“its been.. 2 years since she left. how could you have found me when she couldn’t even shoot a text?”

“unbeknownst you, you mean a great deal to her more than you seem to think you do. i was her partner in art school before we had graduated, and she sent me here. she knows how you are, with your life plan laid out in front of you, for you. she knows you’d still live here even after almost 3 years. she knows you’d end up getting into med school after college. you’re not that unpredictable jung y/n.”

“so i’ve been prepared all my life, and what about it? i don’t march towards things without a plan. and how could you address me by my full name when i don’t even know yours?”

“shen quanrui.”

“shim what?” “shen. quan. rui. shen quanrui. its not that hard.”

“so you’re not korean?” “obviously not. i’m chinese.”

“can you say your name one more time?”

“my god. you can just call me ricky.”

“lovelicky.” “what?” “nothing.”

“i brought back food. it was supposed to be a snack for me but i guess you can have it now that i know i’ll be accommodating for two from this point on.”

“thanks. but uh- can we just go to sleep?” ricky asked, moving from your desk to sit on your twin bed.

“what? this is a two person flat. go sleep in her old room.”

“uh- i would, assuming she left behind her bed. but you kind of boarded up her room and i’m not looking to take it down at midnight on a thursday.”

“oh. i guess you’re right. i forgot about that. i just never assumed she’d actually send someone to me so i didn’t want to look at everything she left behind.”

ricky shrugged and laid down on one side of your bed, while he let you climb into the side touching the wall. since when was he wearing pajamas?..

“isnt this weird?” you muttered.

“not really.”

“i just met you.”

“your couch looks stiff as fuck and i’m not sleeping on the floor.”

right. you had a couch.. maybe med school is taking a toll on your memory. you feel like your frontal lobe is deteriorating.

ricky watched as you reached for a book, before he quickly grabbed your hand and set it back down on the shelf above the bed.

“no. sleep. you have school then the night shift at the cafe.”

“how did you-” “you leave your schedule framed on your fridge.” “right..”

“goodnight y/n.”

“okay. goodnight ricky.”

#gyuvision #gyuvision - zb1 #zb1 x reader #zb1 smut #zerobaseone x reader #ricky x reader #ricky smut #shen quanrui x reader #zb1 fluff #zb1 ricky #zb1 imagines #zerobaseone smut #zerobaseone

[painted-bees]

[cw: explicit content🔞]

March 18th 2009

  The top floor balcony of the humble recording studio overlooked a small backroad. It was just high enough to grant a view over the roofs of surrounding buildings, out towards the mountains, across the harbour. But thick cloud cover and the darkness of night collaborated to hide the Rockies from sight this evening. Instead, Raf’s gaze washed impassively over the array of city lights that extended across the harbour and disappeared into the distant North Vancouver neighbourhoods. He took a sip from the bottle of water in his hand and invited the evening chill to sober him up. 

  Behind him, the din of party revelry outcompeted the exterior ambiance of late-night city traffic. Hi-Note wasn’t usually so lively this close to midnight. Its business hours only ran until 8pm at the latest, and, save for the evenings when he used to jam here with Magritte, Raf usually had the place vacated and locked up within that same hour.

  Today was a special occasion. It was the junior technician, Herbie’s, birthday. Since he had little where else to celebrate, Nels had hosted a surprise party for him in the studio. It wasn’t the first birthday Herb had celebrated in Vancouver, but it was the first birthday following a rather heartbreaking split with his once-steady girlfriend. The usually jovial lad had been, understandably, a lot more quietly introspective over the past few months. Once Nels had gained the knowledge that Herb had no big, exciting birthday plans this year, the rest was inevitable.

  Raf had driven to work, and wholly planned to drive back home. Towards that end, he enjoyed his drink and smoke early, cut himself off early, and was now finally feeling clear minded enough to collect Margie and call it a night. Intending to do exactly that, Raf turned towards the sliding door of the balcony, downing his last gulp of water. And–discovered that Margie had found him first.

  A smug grin and a playful wave preceded her sliding open the door. She stepped out onto the balcony, pulling the door shut behind her. “Ey, nice hiding spot, Ephrem!” She rubbed her hands together, watching her breath hang in the chilly air as she approached him. 

  Raf relented to leaning back against the balcony railing as Magritte dropped her elbows on it, beside him. “I was just about to go in and get you.”

  She sighed and looked out across the harbour. “Past your bedtime?”

  “Nah, the party’s winding down anyway. But I kinda wish I found you out here sooner. This view is really nice.” She sighed wistfully. “Glittery.”

  He provided a self-depreciating smirk. You could set your watch to Raf’s night time routine and, typically, if he wasn’t in bed between eleven and eleven-thirty, he’d be grumpy if there wasn’t a good reason for it. A birthday, he supposed, was as good a reason as any.

  “If you’re not ready to head home yet…” He allowed his easy capitulation to hang unspoken in the space between them.

  Raf made no motion to herd her back inside. Instead, he placed his empty water bottle down by his feet and then settled further against the railing. He wasn’t worried about waiting much longer out here. Magritte had a low tolerance for cold, and the chilly March breeze would chase her back inside within a reasonable amount of time. Still, he didn’t want to give her the sense he was in any kind of hurry. Genuinely, he wasn’t. 

  “Yanno, this is the weirdest place I’ve ever worked at.” Magritte furrowed her brow thoughtfully. “Just a bunch of guys being pals, but also…not weird about it. And stuff gets done. And I–” She turned to look at him, “I help with that. Like, actually!” She turned her back to the landscape, electing to mirror Raf’s posture. “Okay, this sounds stupid but like…I’ve never felt good at a job before. Not just that, I’ve been proactive? I get to do stuff before someone has to ask me to do it? And, I do it properly? Wild. Nels even likes me!” She beamed up at him. “He called me ‘Supergirl’ today after hearing the vocal mixing I did for Cybele Fray.”

  “Yeah…” Magritte pressed her palms against her cheeks and smooshed her face in a pensive gesture that wasn’t intended to look as silly as it did. “I’m worried I’ll lose interest and pitter out eventually. But until then, I’ll just enjoy feeling useful. And smart.”

  Raf favoured her with a smirk, and wrinkled his brow in substitute for a shewed shrug. “Nels loved you the minute he saw you. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the first job you feel competent at is the first job that has you working with audio and such. You’re doing what you like doing.”

And, Raf thought, employed by someone who actually knows how to manage you.

It’s true that Hi-Note made excellent use of Margie’s savant-like skills, but not all of it had been absolutely enthralling to her. A bored Margie was difficult to keep on task, but somehow Nels had managed to navigate her ‘on again, off again’ pattern of productivity. Largely, Raf noticed that Nels cycled her off monotonous tasks before they had a chance to bore her–no matter their state of completion. And then, he’d put her back on it as soon as she looked ready to smooth her brain on something simple and repetitive again. Raf had taken that observation–and applied it at home. Very quickly, he helped her build a habit of taking just one dish out of the sink, washing it, and putting it away, any time she found herself in the kitchen during a moment of aimless roving. Not always, mind you…but often enough. One thing at a time, and the order of it doesn’t matter.

  Raf considered whether or not he ought to affirm to her for the umpteenth time that she was one of the most brilliant people he had ever met. But the window of opportunity closed when she continued talking. 

  “Life’s been really…easy this year, so far. Like, the easiest it’s ever been. I like it. A lot.” She turned her eyes up to him with an unspoken question that he couldn’t quite read.

  “Same.”

  “Really?” Her questioning gaze pressed further.

  Raf measured her for a moment.

  Yet–there she was.

  Until she showed up, he had been living alone in a two bedroom, downtown apartment; a feat of luxury by Vancouver standards. He’d have described it as a relatively ‘small’ space; each room was big enough to fit a bed, a dresser, a night stand, and little else. But, two bedrooms were still two bedrooms. Near Yaletown, no less. Truth be told, the income he was making at Hi-Note would not have been enough to afford it, if he had to rely on it alone. But he had been rather uncompromising about having a spare room for guests–until Magritte moved in. Now, that room was hers; guests be damned.

  It was a bit strange to think about. Generally, Raf preferred being alone. He found that living with anyone else always came with more stress than it was worth; whether it was with a steady romantic partner, or a family member. He was fairly certain that he’d never lend himself to the horrors of rooming with a friend who barely knew him. The very idea had felt like a violation against the sanctity of his home–the one place he could withdraw and hide into when he needed the peace and quiet to sort himself out. He didn’t trust family nor lovers to respect his space when he most needed it. A roommate as impersonal as a friend would have been much worse, and for absolutely nothing.

  He had first invited Magritte to crash at his place on an impulse. Though he feared the precedent it may have set, she didn’t overstay her welcome. In fact, she had barely stayed at all. That hadn’t surprised him nearly as much as his resulting disappointment had. And so, he invited her again. And again. And again. And each time, he confirmed for himself that she was simply…good company. He slept easier on the nights she occupied the guest room. His mood each morning felt buoyed by her presence, even before she emerged to greet him in the kitchen. He just liked talking to her. The baseline of her mood seemed to always be several levels more pleasant than his own, and the way she carried her joviality made it infectious, not grating. Even on the mornings when she had shuffled into the kitchen muttering a preemptive apology for her irritable mood, she had been sweet about it.

  Magritte did something to his brain chemicals that medications just couldn’t compete with. But what that was exactly, he had no god damn clue. The only other thing he could think of that would come close to eliciting the same kind of response from him–might have been something like…having a box of fluffy kittens gently dumped on him. Maybe that’s what she was to him; a box of sweet, soft, wobbly kittens–personified. It would certainly explain the cuteness-aggression she often provoked; that overwhelming desire to just scrunch her up into a little ball and tear her apart with his teeth…affectionately.

  Oftenly, so did she.

  Now she had her own key to the apartment and, over the winter, the guest bedroom had slowly been transformed into her disorderly, war-torn little nest. A true nightmare to behold for all the clutter and chaos; clothing haphazardly strewn across every inch of floor, and a plethora of dirty cups and plates on–and around–the nightstand by her bed.

  Strangely, it didn’t bother him. She had warned him of her negligent cleanliness habits well in advance. In fact, she had initially cited it as her reason for not wanting to overstay at his place. In response, he had given her the room to do with as she pleased–on the sole condition that she kept the door closed and ensured her mess never breached containment. If he didn’t like it, he simply didn’t have to look at it. Aside from leaving dishes in the sink (and occasionally on the living room coffee table), Magritte had been pretty good at maintaining her end of the bargain. By and large, her messes stayed confined to her room.

  When it came to the matter of Raf coveting his peace and quiet, Magritte had proven to be no trouble at all. That was remarkable, considering how loud she was in almost everything she did. But, most evenings after work, she straight up ignored him. She spent her time holed up in her bedroom, playing music and browsing the internet. Raf had once expressed appreciation for Margie’s unobtrusiveness–and was met with a mixture of disbelief and tremendous relief from her. Apparently, most others hadn’t found the same kind of comfort he did in a roommate that happily kept to themselves. She had grown accustomed to worrying that her ‘shut-in’ behaviour was excessive and inconsiderate, because if someone didn’t come and pull her away from her hobbies, she was liable to get lost in her solitary activities for hours. For Raf’s part, he was just content knowing she was there if he felt in need of company, but rarely did he feel compelled to call upon her for it. He liked her little routine of being present in the mornings, joining him for lunch, winding down with him for an hour after work, and then emerging once more for dinner before they both disappeared to their respective corners of the apartment for the rest of the evening–until bedtime.

  While Magritte spent the days in her room, she developed a habit of spending most of her nights in his bed. He accepted the blame for that. Generally preferring to sleep in cooler temperatures, he neglected to consider that his love for a brisk chill wasn’t universally shared. To his quiet horror, he learned one morning that Margie’s feet were often corpse cold. The nail beds on her toes would turn purple from poor circulation, she’d get sensitive little blisters under the skin, and the ache of being chilled through the bone would keep her awake at night. Genuinely, the bones in her feet were colder than the ambient temperature. He wouldn’t have thought it possible if he hadn’t felt the impossible iciness of her skin with his own hands.

  She had laughed, telling him that this was just how things always were for her during the winter months. It’s why she so greatly preferred the sweltering heat of summer. And that’s when Raf offered to let her cosy up in his bed. He always felt too warm at night, and she had literal ice blocks for feet. The solution seemed pretty obvious to him.

  And so, she had spent most of the winter nights with her feet pressed against his back, tucked behind his knees, or sandwiched between his legs. That same arrangement led Raf to discover that sleep came easy when he had something–or someone–to curl his arms around at night. And just like that, over the course of three short months, Magritte had nearly extinguished his reluctant dependence on sleeping medication. 

  As far as roommates were concerned, Magritte was…an unusual one. If he had tried to explain any of the peculiar details about their mutual arrangements to literally anyone else, he knew what it all sounded like. He had considered that maybe he was attracted to Margie; head-over heels in love with her. The problem was, he had been in love before. It made him stupid. And it made him unmanageably paranoid. Weird elation tangled with exhausting, antagonising suspicion; the highest highs and lowest lows. Margie didn’t make him stupid nor particularly paranoid. In fact, he had been able to navigate her with a level of clear-minded ease that was somewhat unusual to him. Perhaps it was in the way she spoke plainly and honestly with him. Despite how hard he looked for it, there was never any hidden nuance to the things Magritte said, wanted, or felt.

  Paranoia still sunk its hooks into him the same way he had grown to expect it–but a different part of him, a voice of reason that he had been working hard to cultivate, granted him a very small, very rare sense of satisfaction when he turned it to Margie’s defence. So he cared for her, at the very least. But she didn’t burden him with the dizzying gauntlet of infatuation. He wasn’t in love with her.

  But she was easy to be with. And, under her influence, life had felt much kinder.

  “Yeah, really.”

  Raf watched relief wash over Margie’s features, and she let out a little chuckle. “Oh, good. ‘Cus, yanno…usually, if I’m having a good time, it’s ‘cus someone else is running themselves ragged for it. And I don’t want you to–”

  “I promised I’d tell you if things ever started feeling off,” Raf cut in. “It’s been weird, but not off-putting. I’ve liked it, so far.”

  Her eyes held him with an expression he couldn’t quite identify, something close to tearful. But there was a delighted, grateful reverence in her gaze that wounded him in a peculiar way. He felt compelled to soothe it.

 “Hey.” Impassively, he pushed himself off the balcony railing to stand and turn towards her. “Can I try something?”

  Her mouth twitched upward in a quizzical smirk. “What?” Raf tilted his head to one side, and leaned in just enough to spur a response from her, “Oh-! Yeah? Yeah!? Ok, yes!”

  He kissed her. 

  If he liked it? If it made him uneasy? If it did anything for him, at all?

  It was a soft, gentle, fleeting little gesture; he didn’t hold it for more than a second. It was just a taste, to see–

 To see what?

  He lingered as he considered it, and just barely had time to register the broad grin on Magritte’s face before he felt her warm hands cup his jaw. She pulled him into another, far more impassioned kiss of her own–and he met her lips with the energy to match.

  As her fingers snaked around the back of his neck, he felt his hair raise beneath her touch. He leaned into her more bodily, bracing against the railing with a firm, steadying grasp. He hadn’t intended anything more than a chaste little peck, but he felt Margie’s soft lips part to invite his tongue, and was loath to leave her wanting. Her fingers ran up the back of his head, combing through his hair, and then curled back down to tenderly caress behind his ears.

  A thrill of warmth originating from her hands shivered through his body–to his groin. It coaxed a surprised purr out of his throat, and he caught it in his mouth before turning into a snort through his nose. He broke the kiss, pulling away from Magritte’s grasp to drop his forearms onto the cold balcony railing beside her, curling over himself to rest his forehead atop them.

  There was a moment of silence as Raf found himself more thankful than ever for the chill evening breeze. And then Margie’s tentative voice met his ear.

  “S-sorry. I got…I got a little carried away.”

  Raf reluctantly lifted his head to shoot her a self-deprecating smile. “Not just you.” 

  He watched her brow furrow with concerned bewilderment for a brief moment before the combination of details clicked in her mind.

  “Oh-!” Her eyes grew wide with mischievous delight, “I gave you a boner!” The exclamation came as hushed as she could manage, but her triumphant grin spoke volumes. 

  He shut his eyes in a beleaguered wince. “Don’t sound so pleased.” He opened them again when he felt her lean against his arm.

  She tilted her head to catch his gaze, and wore a cheeky smile. “We can go home and do something about it, if you want.”

  Hold on, now. “Nnn…”

  Well, maybe?

  He cast her an incredulous look. 

  “Or not!” She pulled back with an exaggerated shrug. “I know people get weird about that kinda thing–or–maybe I’m weird about it. I dunno, I’ve never been bothered by, uh…” The sentence dissolved into a weak chuckle, and her cheeks flushed pink under the faint, warm lighting that emanated from within the studio.

  Raf had never been one for casual flings. Some manner of romantic attachment had always been prerequisite before the idea of sex could carry any appeal to him at all. But then again, he never had a friend as openly straightforward as Margie before. She was as uncomplicated as they came, and Raf recklessly wondered if that would at all be compromised by taking up the offer she had just presented to him. It felt irresponsible to even consider it, but…

  Your stupid fingers in my hair got me feeling some kind of way.

  Embarrassing, how easily he had been turned on. But then again, it had been a fair few years since anyone had touched him like that and, woe betide him, a man was still a man after all.

  It was wrong about Margie. And if it wasn’t, well.

  And then there was the matter of Margie’s confidence. He liked the kiss–he obviously liked the kiss. Her ensuing proposition wasn’t a wholly unwelcome one, either. But, for someone who claimed she wasn't able to read between the lines with people, she was an expert adept at reading far too much into anything that could be perceived as a rejection. She had escalated things, but he had started it–and he didn’t want her to feel shame for reciprocating the way she had. The awful, feral part of his brain that he loathed screamed like a banshee; the usual chorus about ulterior motives and emotional manipulation. It was wrong, of course. It was always wrong.

  Except for when it wasn’t.

  If I die, I die. Fuck.

  “Sure, let's try it on.” 

  Margie stared up at him with those wide, blue eyes, but her brow was tense with uncertainty. “Really?”

  He provided a small shrug. “We already share a bed. This’ll just be another weird thing we do in our growing list of weird things. Maybe we’ll change our mind on the way home. But at the very least, I wouldn’t mind another kiss or few.” To illustrate his point, he leaned in and pressed his lips sweetly against her forehead. 

  When he pulled away, Margie stood up straight and bounced on her heels, holding her face in her hands. “Okay, okay! Yeah!” She darted towards the door and slid it open. “I’ll go get my coat, and–!”

  She stopped short of scurrying inside, and turned to ensnare him in a tight little hug. Raf didn’t have time to close his arms around her in response before she broke away from him again to scamper down the hall. He stared after her for a bewildered moment as she disappeared around the corner, towards the stairs.

  By the time he caught up with her again, she was already downstairs saying her farewells to the Hi-Note crew. She wrapped Herb up in an energetic hug that he happily reciprocated. 

  A large hand clapped Raf on the back before a familiar voice behind him asked, “Everything good?”

  He turned to see Nels favouring him with a warm smile. 

  “Yeah, I was just…” He pointed a loose finger towards the ceiling, “taking a moment.”

  Of everyone in the room, Nels was the only person who knew about Raf’s disorders. He was the first glimpse Raf ever had of what a ‘proper’ father was supposed to look like. The man was raising three daughters at home and brought that same air of patient, fatherly responsibility into the office with him each day. Raf, in particular, had been adopted by him as a kind of nephew. Nels was a best friend to his Uncle Bill, and Bill trusted him to help Raf settle into a good circle of friends and acquaintances. Raf had been reluctant to grow familiar with anyone who wasn’t his Uncle, but with a significant amount of encouragement from both his Uncle and his therapist, Raf stuck it out with Hi-Note through the several occasions he had been tempted to quit on a bad vibe, misinterpreted comment, or fearful hunch. So far, it had been working out favourably for him. The pay wasn’t great, but Raf didn’t need the income of a steady job. Rather, his therapist had been right to say that getting out of the house and expanding his ‘library of positive experiences’ was much better for his health than isolating himself at home, rotting under the grimey weight of his paranoid assumptions and suspicions.

  “You got a piece of cake, right?” Nels fished for an excuse to keep Raf around. 

  “Nah, Margie scarfed down enough for both of us.”

  Reeling back with a dissatisfied but good humoured growl, Nels insisted, “Oh, you gotta try this one. The icing is–”

  “Too sweet,” Raf cut in with a defusing laugh. “I had a bite. It’s good, but a taste was plenty.” 

  “It’s already midnight,” Margie’s voice interjected, “If Raf had it his way, he’d have been in bed an hour ago. Cake ain’t gonna fix that.” 

  “Bah!” Nels waved them both off, defeated. “Fine, go. Get out of my building, you kids don’t know how to have fun anymore.” 

  “Fun? In this economy?” Margie clutched imaginary pearls before her expression of mock dismay dissolved into a grin and she opened her arms for a parting hug.

  Nels swooped down to envelop her, and for a moment his broad body fully eclipsed her from Raf’s view. “Drive safe, be good. See you on Monday.” He pulled away from Margie, turning his gaze to make sure the sentiment landed with Raf as well.

  Raf provided a lopsided smirk and a gesture that was something between a wave and a salute. A chorus of goodbyes followed him and Margie out the front doors of Hi-Note studio, and Margie waved back over Raf’s shoulder until the doors closed behind them.

  “I like them,” she said with a happy sigh.

  “Yeah.” Raf led the way to his little, dark blue sedan parked against the street curb and watched her shuffle gleefully towards the passenger side. “They like you, too.”

  Hard not to.

  He got into the car and turned on the engine.

–

  The ride home was tricky for Magritte as she tried hard to temper her expectations. Raf was a skittish person by nature, and she had to be very careful about not overwhelming him or applying too much pressure with her eager enthusiasm. Any time he felt like he had put himself into a corner by overpromising or obligating himself too irrevocably to something, his instinct was to escape it–no matter what ‘it’ was. But there was nothing irrevocable nor obligatory about her offer to sleep with him tonight. Not ‘sleep’ in the literal sense of the word, for once. No, if he let her, she was going to suck his spirit out through his dick and fuck him into the ground. Good god, she had been wanting this for months.

  But Raf, being Raf, was liable to change his mind at the very last minute. And if he did, she wasn’t going to take it personally. She wasn’t. Nor would she be upset, nor disappointed, nor in any way disparaging about it. The most she could do was make sure not to push the topic too eagerly on the way home, and to avoid offering up any obstacles that might serve to dissuade him. 

  …Which made it very difficult for her to bring up one particular topic of concern before they had passed by the last 7/11 and it was too late.

  “I guess, um…Should we pick up condoms? I can run in and get them.”

  She held her breath as she watched him consider the question for a moment.

   Funnily enough, it wasn’t a matter of protecting against diseases. They both had a clean bill of health, and came to know that about each other when she experienced a rare episode of anxiety regarding the last guy she had stayed with. In her weird panic, she greatly overshared a plethora of details to Raf. He had been remarkably cool about it, and walked her through the entire process of getting tested–something he was no recent stranger to.

  Rather, she didn’t want to tempt fate on getting knocked-up; not when life was just starting to become enjoyable again. The idea of pregnancy was a lovecraftian horror to her, and the stress of dealing with something like that to any extent just wasn’t worth the gamble. She was on the pill, yes…but even that wasn’t guaranteed protection. And, with how often she forgot to take it, she wasn’t sure it protected her at all. 

  “I mean…” Raf began, hesitantly.

  Magritte spared him the trouble. “Or not, if it’s a pain in the ass.” She shrugged with a disarming little laugh. “It’s a bit out of the–”

  Raf cut her off. “No, it’s fine, we absolutely can. It’s just that I’m–” Without taking his eyes off the road he produced a scissor-snipping motion with his fingers.

  Margie stared for a bewildered moment before her brain picked it up. “Wait, what? Really? Why?” She had leaned towards him with that last question before realising it was probably a shitty thing to ask.

  But, if it bothered Raf, he showed no sign of it. “I don’t want kids, and I had…an unpredictable ex.” 

  “Oh!” Margie had the good sense not to press him further, and leaned back into her seat. She couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Well, lucky me.”

  She delighted in the humoured snort she coaxed from him. His easy smile and relaxed posture assured her that he wasn’t grappling with any second thoughts.

  That won a sidelong glance from him. “So..?”

  “Straight home, garçon!” She chopped one hand into the palm of the other with mock urgency. “The minutes are precious!”

  And indeed, though he had kept his hands to himself for much of the ride home, and in the elevator up to his apartment, Magritte found herself pressed between his body and the door to his flat as he warmed her with a voraciously weighty kiss. She received it gratefully. The heat of him, the molten softness of his lips, the scruffy, tickling hairs of his chin–

  She hadn’t realised that his free hand–the one not curled amorously around her body–had been busy unlocking the door. She’d have staggered backwards when it opened, had Raf not preemptively braced her with the arm that held her.

  He broke the kiss in order to assure that their half-stumble into the apartment didn’t devolve into a full stumble. But still, he kept a steadying arm around her, and she rewarded the preservation of closeness by pressing a string of kisses down his neck and towards his collarbone. Her hands had found their way beneath both his jacket and t-shirt, the flesh of his torso hot against her forearms and fingertips.

  She heard the door close shut behind them, and the familiar sound of the keys dropping onto the counter before the hand that had been holding them cupped the side of her head. She felt his lips press against the opposite temple.

  She had been able to kick off her shabby, loose-fitting boots without pause, but she reluctantly peeled herself away from Raf in case he wanted to take his sneakers off with a little more care. And, perhaps…to give him some space to think. Taking the opportunity to remove her jacket, she chucked it haphazardly across the couch.

  Raf was measuring her with a gaze when she turned back towards him.

  “Second thoughts?” Her smirk carried a cheeky confidence that worked hard to cover the self-conscious tone in her voice. 

  “No.” His bewildered inflection and raised eyebrows explained plenty; he had expected to turn against the idea by now.

  “It’s a bit impulsive,” Magritte conceded.

  Raf provided a slow nod, “It is…”

  “I’d really like it, though.”

  “I want you to.” He seemed to chew on that for a moment, as though it had answered something for him.

  There was an awkward standoff while neither of them moved, and in that brief moment, Magritte deeply regretted putting the space between them. Finally, Raf approached her and placed a kiss onto her forehead while his hands gently teased the elastic tie out of her nest of auburn curls. She wrapped her palms around the back of his neck as she felt her hair fall loose from the messy bun it had been wrangled into.

  “Promise me this won’t fuck anything up.” His voice was low and quiet in her ear. The pleading tone was only amplified by the lingering manner in which his cheek rested against the side of her head. His warm breath against her slightly chilled skin inspired goosebumps.

  She pulled back to look him squarely in the eyes. This was far from being her first tryst with a friend, and she knew herself well in this regard. “I promise it won’t! Not for me, but…” She offered an apologetic half-smile. “I can’t promise it won’t change things for you; I don’t control how you react. So, really. Really, really, really–if you’re not sure, then I’d rather…not. I like things the way they are. I like doing things with you. To me, this is just another thing I like doing that I think would be really fun to do with you. Not at the expense of anything else, though.”

  He searched her features with a scrutinising stare, and she didn’t shy away from it.

  “Nothing changes,” He asserted, “we’re just friends.”

  “Good friends,” she offered back with an impudent grin.

  He mirrored her expression with a scoff and a lopsided smirk of his own. “The friendsiest friends.”

  “But, friends just the same.”

 Her conviction was rewarded with another kiss, his lips melting against hers as she felt the tension in his muscles evaporate through a sigh. Her hands glided up his arms, over his shoulders, and around to the back of his neck. As she gently combed her fingernails through his hair, she remembered that delightful little noise she had coaxed out of him on the balcony. What had done it? Was it the kiss? Or…

  Her fingers traced the contours of his scalp and, as she curled them towards her palm, they lightly caressed the back of his ears. Her thumbs smoothed over the muscles of his jaw, but before she completed the gesture, he broke away from her.

“Alright, friend.” He curled his upper lip to flash teeth at her in a playful snarl. “Get your lily white ass into the bedroom before the last brain cell navigating my good manners is starved of oxygen.” He turned her toward the hall, and a pat of his hand against her butt provided her with all the motivation she needed to oblige his request. 

  She whisked herself down the hall into his room, and left the door just slightly ajar for him. She knew he wasn’t going to follow her right away. He had his evening habits to tend to; checking the door, setting the thermostat, turning out the lights, and taking his meds with a tall glass of water. It would have been silly of her to think that the promise of tits and ass would throw him off routine.

  Magritte took the opportunity to shed her clothes, throwing off her shirt and wiggling out of her tight tank top–a personal compromise for her disdain for bras. She shimmied out of her denim shorts and leggings both in the same gesture. Her underwear, though, was of a cute, boyish design and she decided she’d give Raf the satisfaction of peeling them off her, if he so wished to.

  Wait, just the underwear? Is that weird? She considered putting the tank top back on, and failed to gather the motivation for it. And so, she settled upon a better idea. Grabbing one of his t-shirts out of the second drawer of his dresser, she pulled it on, over her head. Hell yeah, guys love this shit.

  No sooner had she put on his shirt than he walked in to see her wearing it. She turned to him with a sheepish grin, tugging the bottom hem over her thighs. 

  Taking a sip from the glass of water in his hand, Raf clocked the shirt and favoured her with a humoured hum. “Comfy?”

  She provided a coy nod, and, before she could do much else, he abandoned his glass on the top of the dresser to close the distance between them. His arms caught her up into more of a ‘scrunch’ than a proper hug, and he came down on her with a frustrated growl, burying his entire face into the side of her neck with the sound of exaggerated chomping. The combination of lightly grazing teeth and his rough chin against her skin elicited a startled yelp from her before sending her into a fit of uncontrolled giggles as she was effortlessly bowled over onto the bed.

  “I changed my mind.” He snarled, “I’m gonna eat you, instead. Hungry, horny, it’s all the same.”

  “It’s not, though!” Her words were barely intelligible, warbling with laughter. 

  As she struggled in vain to wedge a hand between the soft flesh of her throat and his coarse goatee, his mock gnashing softened into playful kisses. Regaining her composure and chasing away her giggles by clearing her throat, she snaked her hands beneath his shirt.

  “I’m worth more to you undevoured, I promise.”

  “Remains to be seen,” Raf muttered into the hollow beneath her ear.

  “Well…let's see.”

  Her thumbs smoothed over the trail of body hair from belt line to belly button, before her palms passed broadly over the front of his stomach, around his sides, and up his back. Digging her fingers into his shoulder blades, she tilted her chin back and drew in a long breath as his lips travelled down her neck, towards her collar bone.

  Distracted by the pleasant textures of his mouth, Magritte’s attention hadn’t followed his travelling hands–until she felt the heel of his palm press broadly against her clit through the fabric of her underwear. Instinctively, her thighs tightened around him, and her hands abandoned their near-completed task of unbuttoning his jeans; grasping the waistline instead. She coiled into his touch as his palm lifted away to drag his fingertips lightly up, towards the top hem of her panties. From there, they slipped easily under the close-hugging fabric to sink into the warm folds between her legs.

  Raf’s firm, steadying grasp around her ribcage slid up to appreciate the soft, pliable curves  of her breasts hidden beneath the fabric of her shirt. His fingers teased the hardened nipples while she manoeuvred her lower body beneath him. She freed her legs out from under his lap so that her thighs hugged around his hips and, in swift order, she ghosted her hands down to find his belt. As she worked to unbuckle it, his mouth caught hers. His tongue teased her lips apart and she welcomed it with her own.

  His kisses had a soft, buttery quality reminiscent of a girl she once loved, and it was a feeling she treasured. His lips, smooth and warm, melted against the tense contours of hers in a sensasion she could only describe as ‘creamy and comforting’.

  She felt his fingers tease her apart, and they traced the contours of her sex with gentle confidence, exploring her geography. Though his mouth worked fervently against her lips, throat, and collar bone, his touch between her legs was restrained and methodical. She had expected him to plunge knuckle deep into the first hole he found–as men in her experience were typically inclined to. But his fingers only teased her entrance before gliding back up her moistened crease to find–

  “Oh-!” Margie flinched as a shock jolted her body. Not painfully, but in a manner comparable to having an icecube suddenly pressed against her, unexpected.

  Raf stilled the moment she had tensed.

  “Sensitive.” His observation was murmured into the crook of her neck before he purred more audibly into her ear, “Sorry, love.”

  She paused. His fingers had begun to work firm, broad circles around her clit in a way that, at first, didn’t feel like it was doing anything special for her. But quickly, she felt a building pressure begin to heat her core.

  Sensitive?

  She wasn’t, though. In the past, complaints had been made that she took too long to get off. Her previous fling had joked that only a jackhammer could provide the adequate stimulation she needed. When it came to sex, she knew herself as a veritable puzzle box of distractibility and dulled senses. It meant excellent stamina and fun sensations, but a proper orgasm delivered in a timely manner required her own effort more than the effort of her partner.

  “No, no,” she began placatingly, “you didn’t–”

  That same heat rose up to prickle her chest and cheeks. Margie pressed her mouth against the top of his shoulder to muffle a reverent, “Motherfucker.” 

  That was not the appropriate choice of words to praise him with, but that’s what forced its way out of her throat. He had found that sweet spot almost as easily as she might have found it herself, which led her to the realisation that she had been robbed–robbed–by previous lovers. What the everloving fuck.

  She couldn’t help but let out a confounded little chuckle into the fabric of his shirt, and he responded with an amused little “Mmh.”

  Without even meaning to, she had tensed her grip around him. Her arms held him tight, with handfuls of his shirt balled into her fists. Her legs had constricted around his waist and the leverage they provided allowed for the needy manner in which her hips writhed to meet his firm and steady touch. It was a greedy moment while she abandoned her attempts at reciprocation, intent on appreciating the way Raf kneaded her between his fingers. Her long drawn sighs of pleasure slowly devolved into a breathy panting–which fell into near perfect synchrony with his purposeful, hastening strokes between her thighs. 

  If she had been paying attention to her breathing, if she had noticed when her voice began releasing a single, ragged note every few breaths, she might have asked for pause. But, she hadn’t been paying attention to anything other than the growing warmth between her legs and the tense swell of pressure gathering in the very pit of her stomach. And it grew, hotter and hotter, with each purposeful, dexterous stroke of his fingers. Oh–she was sensitive, now. Between her thighs, she could feel every small vibration that met her. The way his fingers worked pleased not just her clit, but the rest of her aroused sex as well. Every small movement he pressed into her, she felt across the entire organ. Her thighs closed around his waist as she lifted her hips to find her pleasure against his fingertips. She felt the muscles of her stomach draw tight.

  A sharp gasp preceded a short, trembling “Ah-!” that escaped with her breath. All that tension, that gathering pressure, broke like a wave through her body. It had built up so quickly that the orgasm took her by complete surprise, and she writhed against Raf’s fingers as she rode it out; her face buried into the crook of his neck, eyes shut tightly.

  She didn’t relax her body nor lift her head as the ripples of pleasure subsided, but she felt Raf’s fingers withdraw from her.

  “Hey.” Raf’s voice crooned in her ear, and his hands on her waist pressed her lightly back, coaxing her to release him from the death-grip she held him in.

  Reluctantly, she unfurled from him, uncoiling her arms, and dropping her knees to hang off his outer thighs. The rough texture of denim against  the back of her calves reminded her that he still had his pants on. She came, and he was still wearing pants.

  She hazarded a sheepish glance up towards his face, and was met with a modestly small smile, made very smug by the upward arch of his eyebrows.

  “That’s what you get for the balcony boner, you little shit.” 

  Raf lifted himself off her, but she grabbed the front of his shirt with flustered defiance. “We’re not done!”

  “You sure?” His incredulity wasn’t the least bit sincere. “Because it seemed to me like you–”

  “No!” She scrambled to sit on her knees atop his bed and jabbed a demanding finger towards his waist. “Take your pants off!”

  He hesitated, and for a moment, Margie genuinely worried he’d say ‘nah’. But instead, he leaned in for another kiss and obliged her command. The sound of his belt clattering outcompeted the sultry feeling of his lips for her attention, and her eager gaze turned automatically to assess what she was working with. 

  She had expected to see an aching erection. Usually, by the time the pants came off, guys had been hard as hell and ready to go. Instead, the man who had just rubbed the easiest orgasm she’d ever experienced out of her appeared lightly fluffed at most. For a brief second, she wondered if her playful brattiness had ruined the mood. And then, she considered…that possibly…she just wasn’t attractive to him. 

  She returned her attention to their kiss as she chewed on that thought a bit. As far as girls went, she was a bit of a gremlin. A goblin, even. She wouldn’t dare call herself a ‘woman’ nor even a ‘lady’--those words gave her gender expression far too much credit. But even so, she was mostly comfortable with her appearance. Regardless of that, sloppy tomboys weren’t everyone’s preferred cup of tea, and it didn’t have to be. She had slept with people she didn’t personally find attractive before and it had been fine and dandy, all things considered.

  You can be ugly and still give killer blowjobs. 

  She smirked to herself, and, as she combed fingers through Raf’s hair with one hand, she allowed the other to travel down his torso until her palm curled around the soft, warm skin of his shaft. Her fingertips coiled along the underside of it, tracing a firm, straight line towards the base of the glans, and she massaged the head against the ball of her thumb with gentle, coaxing strokes. 

  His body responded to her touch; the malleable flesh stiffened in her grasp and filled her hand substantially. In return, her caresses grew more broad and firm; the heel of her palm only abandoning the sensitive tip for the brief intervals when her fingers endeavoured to tease and cradle his sack. 

  She felt Raf’s fingertips trace lightly up her spine, beneath her shirt, in a manner that provoked goosebumps. Once they found the loose curls of her hair, they followed her locks up to the nape of her neck, and brushed passionately over the base of her scalp. He hadn’t pulled his lips away from her, except to nip lightly at her jaw and ear.

  A small “Hmm” escaped him, sounding more contemplative than pleased, and it prompted her to pull her gaze back and assess his features. He only mirrored her measuring glance before bestowing a sweet little kiss on her nose.

  "We good?" She asked as cooly as she could manage.

  "Yeah?" His response warbled on a laugh, and it coaxed a reassured smile out of her. "I'd say so."

  “...Gave you another boner."

  "Oh." He glanced down and said with a sardonic tone, "Shit, thanks for telling me. I'd have never known."

  By the time his gaze returned to her, Margie met it with a stony, straight face.

 His amused expression wavered. "...What?"

Holding his gaze, she pressed down on his erection with a forefinger before turning her eyes to watch it as she let it spring upward in a marvellously undignified display of structural tension. The juvenile mistreatment of his manhood left Raf at a temporary loss for words and Magritte stifled her laugh into a snort. Before he could chide her, she shoved both hands beneath his shirt and lifted it, intent on freeing him of the garment completely. With a muffled exclamation, he complied, lifting his arms and finishing the job of pulling it off, over his head. 

Taking the opportunity to plant kisses across his chest and down his torso, Margie didn’t glance up to see his expression as her mouth dragged hungrily past his belly button and over the strip of body hair that led her down, towards the prize waiting for her between his legs. She rested her cheek against him, atop the unruly patch of honey coloured pubes that crowned his crotch, and closed her hand around the length of him. She was hopeless at measuring the size of anything with just a gaze, but he filled her grasp with a satisfying heft and was certainly longer than her hand. Favouring him with a well-appraising hum and a few loving strokes, she lifted her head to face her challenge. She peeled back the foreskin with a tender downstroke, before kissing the sensitive pink tip. 

  The scent of him was far from unpleasant; a heady musk that excited her senses goaded her to take him into her mouth. Slick moisture met her lips when they pressed against his flesh, and, when they parted to draw him in, her tongue was quick to receive him. She held the head of his cock in her mouth as her tongue swirled and lapped hungrily over its smooth contours. He provided texture more than taste; his scent informed the flavour perhaps more than anything else. Inside her mouth, he was velvety, warm, and gratifying to explore. She pulled her lips back over the gentle curves until they came together to kiss the tip again. Her tongue flicked out to lap the head’s underside before the rest of her mouth followed, and she drew him in deeper than before.

  She repeated that course, cherishing every bit of him with her tongue before pulling back to kiss the tip, and then drawing him into her mouth deeper with each successive round. Her thumbs had run up his inner thighs until they found the silky skin of his sack. She held and massaged it gently, appreciating the supple texture beneath her fingertips.

  Initially, Raf’s fingers had teased and entwined themselves in her nest of curls somewhat languidly. But slowly, his hands grew tense against the back of her head, occasionally clenching into fists around handfuls of her hair. She thought–and hoped–that he’d start pulling, but any time he came close to doing so, he quickly released his grip. She could have lamented that, but she appreciated the same restraint applied to the motions of his hips. As a precaution, Margie placed a steading hand around one side of his waist, but she knew from experience that this was poor defence against an overeager thrust. Under her palm, she could feel his muscles tense and flinch. That, coupled with the slight, uneven rolling of his hips, betrayed his urge to buck against her mouth. For his considerate efforts, she rewarded him by trying to decipher and match the pace that his rigidly subdued movements suggested to her. 

  “...Christ.” His breaths had been coming up deep and steady and the muttered profanity was barely audible to Magritte, but she caught it with a thrill.

  In response, she closed her eyes and pulled him into her throat so that her lips were flush against the hot skin of his lower abdomen. Her throat constricted uncomfortably around the intrusion that had smoothed over her tonsils, and she pulled back before it forced her to gag. Taking a deep, steadying breath through her nose, she allowed herself a precious second before swallowing him again. Her throat was no happier for it, but making a man's dick disappear was her favourite little party trick. Raf’s fingers brushed over her jaw in a gesture that permitted her to release him, but she ignored it in favour of challenging her gag reflex a third time.

  “Margie–!” He cupped her face more firmly, and this time, she obeyed what was clearly a request, not a suggestion.

  She pulled back, hollowing out her cheeks so that he left her mouth with an audible *pop*, and turned a sheepish smile up to him. 

  He met her gaze with a mix of awe and incredulity.“Holy shit, warn me next time.” 

  Providing him with an unrepentant shrug, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Too much?"

  “I mean, not if you’re trying to get this done and over with real quick.”

  To that, Magritte flashed her teeth in an impish grin. “Finish him!”

  Her poor yet unmistakable Mortal Kombat impression caused Raf’s brow to crease quizzically before a bark of laughter escaped him. “No, why are you like this?”

  He flattened his palm against her face, and she let out an ineffective chihuahua-like snarl as he irreverently pushed her backwards so that she laid flat on her bed. She landed with a fit of giggles, and she felt his thumbs hook into the waistband of her panties. He slid them down past her knees and Magritte was able to wriggle the garment down, off her ankles. Kneeling between her legs, Raf grabbed her by the waist and playfully dragged her towards him so that her hips met his.

  As he descended upon her with a flurry of kisses, she felt his erection lay flat across her stomach–the slick coat of moisture it wore from her mouth cooled on her skin. She couldn’t help but writhe eagerly beneath him; one hand in his hair while the other grasped and clawed needily along his lower back. His hands worked much more purposefully. One arm coiled around her shoulders to brace the both of them as the other snaked down her belly, fingertips finding the warm, damp flesh between her legs. He teased apart her lower lips, pressing a firm thumb just above her clit and massaging it gently. His middle and ring fingers skated easily downward to find her opening; tender and wet with her arousal. He pressed a careful finger into her and, when it sunk in with ease, he inserted another. With gentle strokes and twists, he acquainted himself with her; winning pleased hums and a determined roll of her hips as he felt the boundaries of her interior. His breath came up in heavy sighs as he kissed, bit, and sucked the flesh of her neck. She was aware, too, of how his hips rolled against hers with a neediness that mirrored her own. 

  His fingers withdrew from her and, for a moment, so too did his lower body. With keen anticipation, Margie wrapped her legs firmly around him for leverage, sinking her heels into the back of his calves as she lifted her hips up to receive him. He didn’t leave her waiting. She felt his cock press against and part her flesh to make space for itself. Swollen with arousal, her body provided pleasant resistance before surrendering to envelop him. He sank into her with gratifying ease; fitting comfortably between her legs. A delighted gasp escaped her when he drew his hips flush to hers, eliciting a ripple of pleasure that radiated out from her inner flesh, down into her toes. Her muscles clenched around him instinctively, and her knees lifted to hold him as closely to her as possible.

  At the sound of her breathy little mewl, a chuckle rose from Raf’s throat followed by another one of his contemplative hums. This time, though, an unmistakable satisfaction boiled in the low rumble of his tone.

  In Margie’s opinion, this was one of the best parts of sex; the initial feeling of having that aching, hungry gap between her thighs filled the warm, hefty girth of her lover. But there was something uniquely gratifying about hosting Raf in this manner, and the reason wasn’t a mystery to her. Without question, he was the most good looking man to ever find himself between her legs. From the first day she met him in Granville Station, she had been charmed by his lopsided smirk, dorky goatee, and aloof demeanour. His torn jeans and goofy dollar store sunglasses hadn’t been able to outcompete the easy charisma and gentle kindness he carried with him. He had a handsome face, a nice body that he took care of, and a mindful confidence that belied the tumultuous anxieties that plagued him. As she had gotten to know him better, she only adored him more.

  ‘Adored’. Hah, who am I kidding.

  She loved him, no revelation there. He didn’t have to rub an orgasm out of her and stick his dick in for her to realise that. She loved easily, and recklessly, and had known she was pooched after their very first jam session. He had been fun to play with, gave her kind praise and honest feedback, and made her feel like he genuinely enjoyed spending time with her. That and a pretty face was really all it took to win her loyal affections.

  But he was a skittish creature, and she loved him enough to find joy in whatever form their relationship took. Otherwise, she’d have overcrowded and overwhelmed him, and he–like all the others before him–would have grown to resent everything he initially claimed to like about her. She likened herself to salt; best enjoyed sparingly, and never on its own. It’s why she had been so reluctant to move in with him, despite wanting to spend every minute of her time with him. Too much salt. She feared becoming unpalatable. 

  Well, now he’s balls deep in me, purring comfortably in my ear–which means I’ve got no choice but to make him cum so hard, he sees stars.

  She had tried to moderate her behaviour and failed. She failed the very moment she accepted the keys to his apartment. She failed when he sweetly offered to let her snuggle him in bed so that he could help warm her feet. There had been mornings when she woke up to the maddening feeling of his stiffness pressed against the small of her back. She had remained very still and very quiet so as to not let him know that she had been awake before him, but good lord every muscle in her body had wanted to squirm against him. Without fail, the very moment he woke up, he’d carefully–very carefully–untangle his limbs from hers and turn away before getting out of bed to start his day. And without fail, she’d spend the consiquent morning too cumbrained to even see straight. 

  Just like she couldn’t say no to an apartment key and nightly snuggles, she couldn’t say no to a kiss. She couldn’t help but push it to see where it’d go. And now she was here. Remarkably. Unregrettably.

  ‘I couldn’t help myself,’ said the scorpion, ‘it’s in my nature.’

  A bit too late, Margie realised that Raf’s satisfied rumblings in her ear had been forming actual vowels and consonants.

  “Hm-?” She returned to the present moment with a flinch she hoped he didn’t notice.

  “I like your little noises,” he replied.

  “Oh.” Magritte blinked, running fingers through his hair. She used the back of her heel to caress the curve of his butt with irreverent affection. “Well then, giddy up, Mister Ephrem, and I’ll give you a cacophony!”

  She felt him grin against her jawline before grazing it with his teeth and providing an affirmative little growl. 

  His hips withdrew, only to rock forward into her again. His first few strokes were of a careful, measuring pace until he repositioned his knees further apart and closer to her body. Dropping his forehead down onto the mattress, over her shoulder, he grabbed her waist with two firm hands and pulled her up closer to him. He curled his torso to plunge into her more deeply. The angle of his cock struck a pleasing cluster of nerves inside her body, and she inhaled sharply as it retreated over her swollen flesh to slam back in against it in steady rhythm. Each time, his dick slid out of her until she was empty save for the stretch where they met; the lips of her cunt covetously hugging the contours of the cock’s head. And then he’d part her walls again with a forceful, hungry thrust; smoothing the mounds of velvety muscle that constricted around him and resisted his departing strokes.

  Every few thrusts forced a note of pleasure out of Magritte’s throat, carried on ragged huffs of breath. At first, her punctuated little cries only had to compete against the sound of Raf’s deep, steady breathing and the faint creaking of his bed. But, as her thighs became sticky and sodden from her arousal, the percussive sound of flesh on flesh began to drown out her little moans. Like the true musician he was, Raf searched for the right fingering to coax the sound he wanted out of her. His thumb pressed against the flesh right above her clit and rubbed it in quick, small circles as he continued to drive his cock into her. 

  The feeling of being kneaded firmly between his fingers and his dick provoked a strangled cry that bubbled out of her mouth before she even registered it. A sharp, quavering breath preceded another ecstatic wail, and then another. She curled her arms tightly around the back of Raf’s neck and attempted to muffle the chorus of her euphoria against his shoulder.

  The mounting tension caused her muscles to clench. The way his dick pushed against the walls of her cunt as it constricted around him only intensified the pressure that welled up inside her.

  “Oh, fuck. Fuck.” They were barely words, carrying the same quaking tone as her blissed-out yowls. 

  In response, Raf reached up to roughly smooth her hair back and cradle her head. He buried his nose into her hair, and pressed clenched teeth against her temple in a gesture that might have initially been intended as a kiss. His thrusts had grown desperate and uneven, but the hand that worked her clit remained fastidious in its efforts, bringing her so, so, so achingly close.

  “Good girl.” His voice was a breathy growl against her skull. “Come on, now…”

  Her legs had been wrapped around him so tightly that her muscles ached. But it provided the leverage she needed to buck against him with fervent need. He drove into her with short, rapid thrusts, barely withdrawing to slam as deeply into her as their bodies would permit; hitting up against her tightening core–until the dam of pressure burst to release a flood of sensation across every part of her. In the seconds leading up to it, Margie had fallen completely silent, drawing in a long breath that she held in her chest until the crashing wave of her orgasm forced it out of her. She felt the pulses of pleasure throb in her lower abdomen, caressing the man inside of her in a way that she never consciously could.

  At some point during her climax, Raf’s hands had both found her waist again, gripping her rapaciously as he chased his own pleasure. His breaths came up in short, uneven bursts, and the undeliberate groans being drawn out of him composed the greatest piece of music she had ever delighted in hearing.

  She writhed her hips to meet him at every feverish thrust. Slowing to longer, powerful strokes, he slammed into her once, twice, and with a quiet growl, he buried himself as deeply as their bodies would allow. His strong grip pressed her hard against him, holding her firmly in place as the force of his orgasm punched the breath out of his lungs. As he came inside of her, his hips strained against her body with the feral desire to empty himself deeper.

  This, too, was one of the best parts of sex, Margie decided. She’d never gone about it without a condom before, and while the thrill was almost certainly a psychological one, the verdict was in; she very enjoyed the feeling of having her insides painted lovingly white. She liked it a lot. With the covetous squeezing of her thighs and abdominal muscles, she made it known to him.

  The two of them remained locked together in a hot, messy, panting heap on the bed for an immeasurable moment before Raf nuzzled his face into the crook of Margie’s neck with a long, bodily sigh. She drew a hand up to affectionately caress his neck and the back of his head.

  “W...we good?” Her voice came up raspy, cracking on the second word, and she couldn’t help but exhale a little laugh at herself.

  “Mmh,” was the most Raf could conjure for a long while before he muttered semi-intelligible, “Magnifique.” He echoed her laugh with one of his own before bringing his arms forward to prop himself up, off of her. 

  As she allowed him to decouple from her, she curled her hands under her chin, reluctant to sit up with him…for reasons relating to gravity and fluids. 

  Sitting on his knees with her legs across his lap, Raf provided a mollifying grin that favoured one side of his face. “I, uh–shit.” He dropped his face into one of his palms with a self-deprecating laugh. “Ejected some of my brain cells there, I think.”

  “A shower might help with that,” Margie offered with a broad smile that flashed her teeth. “I’ll take one with you.” 

–

  It had been as though they spent the evening doing any other typical thing. It could have been a night of board games, for how casually Magritte navigated the aftermath of their activities. Raf had expected some manner of uncomfortable, condolatory discussion that went long into the early hours of morning; how they had liked it, whether or not they’d do it again, what it meant for their relationship, if it meant anything at all. But that conversation never occurred.

  Margie had made her enjoyment known while she shared a shower with him, and bestowed easy praise on his ‘excellent fingering’. In turn, he confessed that he could grow quickly addicted to the adorable little trills, yelps, and moans he had been able to coax out of her. Not to mention the other things she could do with her mouth. Dieu, mon fucking dieu. 

  The rest was clear enough to be obvious without discussion. Sex could just be another thing they did together when the mood struck–if it stuck at all. It hadn’t come with any promises or expectations, not any more than playing music or snuggles in bed had. It was the best Raf could have hoped for.

   Magritte seemed wholly uninterested in applying the pressures of romantic commitment onto him. If there was ever anything she wanted, she could never help but to edge it into conversations one way or another–he knew that much about her. Instead, she seemed entirely set on making sure she didn’t bring up anything even approaching the matter. She said she liked things the way they were, and, while his brain could question the truth in that–or in anything she said–he was of much the same opinion. Perhaps they had both come to the same understanding. Something about love, especially romantic love, brought out the worst in people. It had always seemed like a battle of wills; two people trying to deconstruct and reshape one another to fit the impossible moulds that would ensure the longevity of their relationship. How could anyone endure that kind of transformation without poisoning the relationship with resentment? He’d never know. He didn’t have to find out.

  Laying in bed at three in the morning, showered, satisfied, and cosy, with Magritte purring tiny snores in his arms, he couldn’t have asked for more. Whatever it was that he and Margie were enjoying together–friends with benefits?–suited him, so far. For all it mattered, she could decide to move across the sea next week, and he’d be unharmed by the decision so long as they remained on friendly terms. And that felt safe.

   What they had…it felt safe.

#hi-note #rafael #magritte #it's balls oclock and no one is awake #post smut #I've never written a smut before lmfaoo I am so sorry about this

[souryoong]

the hills | myg (18+)

Pairing: fwb!yoongi x reader

Genre: smut!!! (18+), some fluff at the end I think (lol)

Word Count: 2,838

Summary: inspired by the weeknd's song titled "the hills"

Warnings: mentions of infidelity/cheating, tongue kissing, making out, choking, kitchen sex, fingering, squirting, overstimulation, sloppy blowjob, spitting in mouth, oral sex (m. receiving), praise kink, some jealousy, protected sex, henced that reader is on birth control, multiple orgasms, clitoral stimulation, lots of whining, lots of swearing. good god lmk if i forgot anything.

Author’s Note: okay so ummmm this was originally supposed to be posted on my birthday (21 of march) and I absolutely do not know where on earth the time went. but i guess better late than never, right? I have been sucked into a vortex of listening to the weeknd nonstop again and this idea randomly came to me. no complaints! anyways, happy aries season, and this concludes our march madness celebration!!

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I only call you when it's half past five, the only time that i'll be by your side.

“Hey...” You spoke into the phone to your latest hookup, Min Yoongi.

You found yourself calling him now more than ever, since your boyfriend was away traveling for work often. You swore you were on the verge of breaking up with him, that you couldn’t do it anymore, and after all you still had needs. Yoongi on the other hand, was always right where you needed him. Always a phone call away.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Yoongi asked you in response.

“Nothing. Just kind of had a mediocre day at work.” You sat on the edge of your bed. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

“Yeah?” Yoongi was interested.

“Yeah and fucking your cock all day.”

You could tell that Yoongi was speechless.

“Fuck.” He huffed. “You can’t just say that to me. Your place or mine?”

“Yours.” You answered. You admittedly liked his apartment better; it always smelled good and had a better ambiance. His kitchen practically looked like a showroom; it was hard to believe that he did any cooking in it.

“It sounds like you’re in the car.”

“Yeah, I had some things to do. Now I can’t even fucking focus on driving.” Yoongi spoke, laughing as you could hear him turn on his turn signal. “What time are you coming?”

You looked at the clock on the nightstand in your bedroom. 5:30.

“Maybe like 8:30?” You asked to make sure he agreed.

“Yeah, that works.” Yoongi cleared his throat. “I’m guessing that he’s out again?” He was referring to your boyfriend.

“Yeah, god I’m so sick of it. How’d you know? “You sarcastically asked.

Yoongi laughed at your sarcasm. “Just a wild guess.”

—

You knocked on the door to Yoongi’s apartment upon your arrival. While waiting, you glanced at your phone for the time. 8:30. Right on time.

Suddenly, the door swung open, and there was Yoongi, flashing you a smile. “Perfect timing.”

“Hey, am I ever late?” You joked as you stepped through the threshold and came inside, Yoongi closing the door behind you, his eyes on you the entire time as you walked over to his kitchen counter.

“Yeah I know, I’m joking.” Yoongi answered. “You look nice.” He stood behind you somewhat close, referring to the skirt and strappy top that you were wearing.

You smirked. “You always say that.”

“Yeah and I never said I didn’t mean it.” Yoongi’s fingers grazed your hips, practically sending electricity through your body.

Yoongi pulled you against him, the quick movement surprising you at first. You turned your head slightly, and he met you halfway with a kiss. He must have been drinking Pinot noir because you could taste it on his lips.

You moaned against his lips, giving him the chance to slide his tongue into your mouth and against yours as his hands roamed your body. Once you felt his fingers move over the back of one of your thighs, you let out a whine; and Yoongi lifted up your skirt.

“Fuck.” He broke away from the kiss immediately, his lips flushed and swollen. You leaned down onto the cold marble countertop as his eyes were on probably the skimpiest pair of underwear you owned; leaving little to be imagined.

“Yoongi.” You teased, grinding your ass against his now hardening cock in his pants. Just as you were about to get up, Yoongi’s hand held you down.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you wore these just for me.” He teased, his fingers toying with the fabric.

You let out a moan when his fingers brushed against your still covered core; quickly moving to pull your panties to the side.

You couldn’t see, but Yoongi quickly swiped his fingertips against his tongue, and returned between your legs to rub slow circles over your folds.

You nearly cried out at the sudden contact, as Yoongi swore under his breath. “God, you’re so fucking wet.”

You moaned when three of his fingers were inside of you, and he was starting to fuck into you.

“Fuck. Fuck me, Yoongi.” You whined, putting one of your knees onto the counter for leverage.

Your words encouraging him; he grunted, holding onto you with his free hand, and fucking you with the three fingers on his other hand.

“Shit, can you take 4?” Yoongi asked you, moving his hand along your back. Completely resting your upper body onto the cold countertop; you let out a sigh.

“Give it to me. Anything. All of it.”

You had no idea what had you feeling so desperate, and you whined when you felt the stretch of four of Yoongi’s fingers. The slight twinge of pain turned into pleasure.

“So good.” Yoongi spoke, his voice raspy. “Like your cunt was made for my fingers.”

You bit down on your lip as Yoongi’s fingers were pressing your walls hard, and this didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“Don’t be quiet. Let me fucking hear you.”

He pulled you up so your back was against his chest, making you grab hold of his arm that was around you now.

“Fuck!” You cried out. “I’m gonna fucking cum.”

“So cum.” His voice was right in your ear now, a low vibration that went right to your core. “I can feel you clenching me. Make a mess out of my kitchen.”

Yoongi turned you slightly, pulling you into a kiss that was quite sloppy, then he was fucking into you with his fingers at a pace that had you feeling that you might pass out.

“Fuck, fuck.” You whined as he was now kissing your neck and shoulder area, nibbling at the skin every so often. “Don’t stop. Yoongi, fuck.”

Your legs were shaking, and you were clutching onto anything you could to try not to fall. Just as Yoongi pulled his fingers out of you and started rubbing your clit, your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave.

Your legs tingled as your stomach tightened, and you leaned into Yoongi. Yoongi’s fingers were still on your clit when you felt wetness on your inner thighs.

“Fuck.” You panted as Yoongi pulled his fingers away, licking them clean.

“Baby, you just squirted on my kitchen floor.” Yoongi spoke, smirking. “Fucking hot, come here.” He grabbed your jaw, pulling you in for a kiss.

He pulled away, his hand moving down to your throat. You bit down onto your bottom lip, and Yoongi could tell that there was something on your mind before he kissed you again.

“What?” He questioned.

“Wanna suck your cock…” You finished the sentence with a smirk.

Yoongi was taken aback a little bit. “Woah—fuck. I don’t think you have to really ask.”

He couldn’t take his eyes off of you, backing up against the granite countertop as you dropped to your knees in front of him.

You could tell how hard he was by the outline of his cock that was straining through his dark jeans.

You reached to unbutton his pants, then unzip them. Yoongi slightly pulled them down just as you hooked your fingers around the waistband of his Black Balenciaga underwear and pulled them down just enough to reveal his rock hard cock.

You felt your mouth already filling with saliva, watching Yoongi grab his length and stroke it once; a bead of precum leaking from the tip.

His hand was quickly replaced with yours, and Yoongi let out a throaty groan at your touch. You leaned in, sliding his cock into your warm mouth, feeling him against your tongue.

Yoongi sucked in a harsh breath through gritted teeth, gripping onto the edge of the countertop behind him. “Fuck, you are so hot.”

You let out a moan, taking more of him in your mouth until he hit the back of your throat. Then you pulled away from him briefly, spitting on the tip of his cock then using it to stroke him a few times.

“God, I love how you taste.” You spoke, locking eye contact with him briefly.

“Yeah?” Yoongi was so sensitive that his knees buckled a little bit when you brushed your thumb over his tip.

You slightly hummed, taking him back into your mouth and into your throat so deep that he was panting now.

“Fuck, you look so pretty like this.” One of Yoongi’s hands was under your chin. “On your knees for me.”

His words went right to your core, desperately shifting on the floor for some friction. Yoongi started to fuck into your mouth, his cock head hitting the back of your throat; making the most pornographic sound you ever heard. You finally gagged, and Yoongi pulled away, his length as well as your mouth covered with saliva.

You didn’t even realize your eyes were watering until Yoongi wiped your smudged mascara with his thumb. You sat up a little bit when he leaned down to kiss your sloppy mouth; his hand moving to your throat to make you look at him.

“Yoongi.” You sniffed because your nose was slightly running. “Fuck, I need your cock.”

“Yeah?” He kissed you again, and you hummed against his mouth. “Go to my room, get undressed, and wait five seconds for me, okay?”

You looked at him in confusion.

“I have to clean up a little bit.”

You shook your head, smirking as you stood up. Yoongi always had to be neat and tidy.

“Don’t be long, or I’ll start without you.” You joked, grabbing your purse on the way out of the room.

You walked out of the kitchen and down the short hallway to Yoongi’s bedroom. Upon opening the door, the room was dimly lit from lamps, and he must have had a diffuser going that smelled like lavender and charcoal. You set your purse down on one of his nightstands, then quickly started getting undressed because Yoongi was going to be there any second.

Quickly stepping out of your skirt and kicking it aside, then taking off your shirt; leaving you naked except for your panties.

In perfect timing, the moment that you were about to get on his bed, Yoongi came into the room. His pants were still unbuttoned from earlier.

You sat on his bed In front of him as he walked over to you, undressing himself as he went.

Yoongi was in front of you wearing just his underwear. “Hey, I thought I said undress.” He was motioning to the fact that you still had underwear.

“I know. You came in too fast.” You answered, your hands roaming Yoongi’s upper body. “But you can take them off of me.”

Yoongi smirked at you, tilting your chin up. “Open your mouth.”

You obliged, opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out slightly; knowing what Yoongi was about to do.

He leaned in and let a glob of spit fall into your mouth; some onto your tongue. Immediately after, pulling you into a sloppy tongue kiss. You moaned into his mouth as he lowered you back onto the bed, his hands finding the hem of your panties; yanking them down slightly before breaking away from the kiss to completely take them off.

He pulled you to the edge of the bed, hovering over you again to kiss you. Yoongi then started kissing your neck and down to your collarbone, then down the valley of your breasts.

One of your hands moved to his hair, you couldn’t help but giggle slightly, and smirk because his hair was tickling you.

“Yoongi…” You bucked your hips up into his. You could feel how hard his cock was against you, and now you needed it more than ever.

“Hmm…” Yoongi hummed against your skin as he kissed around on your chest; nibbling at your skin gentle enough to not leave any marks.

“I need your cock.” You let out a high-pitched whine when you felt his warm mouth around your left nipple; sucking and biting every so often. Your grip on Yoongi’s hair tightened In frustration; making him moan.

You let go and Yoongi stood up off of you, stepping over to his nightstand. “One second.” He opened the drawer, picking up a box of condoms. He pulled out a foil packet and stepped back over to you as he opened it. “I know you say you’re consistent, but just to be sure.”

You sat up slightly as Yoongi took off his Balenciaga underwear. You’d be lying if you said his dick wasn’t big; it was huge. Bigger than you ever expected when you first started seeing him, especially because Yoongi had a very small frame otherwise.

You sucked in a breath, propping yourself up with your elbows slightly to watch him as he rolled the condom over his length. Yoongi had a decent girth, and was somewhat veiny; just like his hands.

“Okay.” Yoongi spoke, opening your legs slightly more than they were so he could get leverage.

You felt him press the tip of his cock against your opening, and you closed your eyes.

“No, no, no.” Yoongi suddenly spoke. “I want you to look at me.”

You whined, opening your eyes and looking at him, then watched as he pushed himself inside of you. Your eyebrows furrowed, it always slightly hurt for a few seconds before Yoongi gave you time to adjust. He patiently watched your facial expressions for the queue on when to continue.

“Fuck.” He panted when he finally bottomed out inside of you. “Take my cock so fucking good.”

You smirked at his praise, reaching to rub your clit as he fucked into you.

“You’re fucking smiling.” His thrusts got harder and he tightened his grip on your legs. “Turns me on.”

“Fuck. Don’t stop.” You whined, eyebrows furrowing as you felt him bump your g spot.

“I wasn’t planning on it.” He shifted positions so that now he was hovering over you, now hitting deeper.

“God, you’re so deep.” You whined as you could feel tears brimming in your eyes. Yoongi loved hearing you, never getting sick of it.

“You can take it.” Yoongi grunted as you clutched onto his arms.

The way that Yoongi was hitting every right place had you trying to keep yourself together, fighting an orgasm to make everything last a little longer.

“You got quiet.” Yoongi was breathing heavy, his face mere inches from yours and you could hear the wet noises coming from your cunt.

“Fuck. I’m so close.” You swore. “I’m so fucking close.”

“Yeah, tell me.” His voice was low and raspy before his lips crashed with yours, the kiss sloppy. You could barely kiss him back, everything too much.

“Fuck. Yoongi I—“ You barely even got to finish your sentence before your orgasm crashed into you unexpectedly.

“Fuck. You got tight.” Yoongi swore, your body shaking beneath him as he continued to fuck you through your orgasm.

You whined when you felt his fingers on your clit. “You can give me one more.”

You looked up at him over you, both of you sweaty. You watched him. The way his eyebrows furrowed, his throaty grunts and moans, the way he knew exactly how to please you, the way every kiss knocked the wind out of you.

Yoongi now switched your position, now you were flipped over onto your hands and knees. Your face against his sheets; you were too fucked out to care. His cock was back inside of you like it never left.

“God, you are so fucking good.” Yoongi swore, one of his hands smacking your ass hard; making you jump slightly. “I wish I could cum in you. Fuck.”

“So do it.” You didn’t even realize what you were saying.

Yoongi scoffed. “You know I can’t.” He gripped your hips with both of his hands, pulling you back into him. “God, I envy that man.” He was referring to your boyfriend.

“Fuck. Him.” you muttered, hands gripping onto the bed sheets. “Oh god, Yoongi.”

Your walls were clenching him again, and Yoongi’s thrusts were becoming erratic like he was close as well.

“The way you say my name.” He moaned, sending a chill through your body.

“Yoongi.” Your voice was whiny this time. Your second orgasm hit you seconds later, your legs threatening to give out beneath you. Yoongi’s thrusts didn’t change much, only slowing a little bit because of the overstimulation.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Yoongi swore before finally stopping, spilling his own release into the condom. Both of you exhausted, sweaty, and panting for breath.

“Fuck.” You swallowed thickly, turning over when Yoongi pulled out of you.

“Come here.” Yoongi turned your face towards him, kissing you.

You suddenly heard your phone on the nightstand. Your boyfriend’s text tone. Yoongi must have noticed your facial expression change, because now he looked concerned.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

“No. No.” You sighed. “That text, it’s him. God, I so bad want to –"

“So do it. Dump his ass.” Yoongi cut you off. “Stay here with me. You can take a shower if you want, borrow my sweats. Just stay.”

Hills have eyes, the hills have eyes.

Who are you to judge? Who are you to judge?

Hide your lies, girl, hide your lies.

Only you to trust, only you.

_

Taglist: @thepurpleghost @dearlyjoonie @thoughtfullysassysublime @yoongiscta @polyparkj @ggukzashi

#bts smut #min yoongi smut #suga bts #yoongi smut #bts fanfic #min yoongi x reader #souryoong march madness #Spotify

[margowritesthings]

The Greatest Gift A Cowgirl Could Ask For

a @rdrevents Valentines gift exchange for @cowboydisaster

SERIES MASTERLIST

pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!reader word count: 4,400 words warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, explicit language, sexual themes, vaginal sex, mentions of death, unprotected sex, throwing up (TW EMETOPHOBIA), very brief mention of SA in the past, unexpected pregnancy, mentions of Micah Bell a/n: am I britney spears in her 2000 grammy award winning song??? because oops, i did it again. i don't know how I managed to get Bea as my recipient for a SECOND time, but it only felt right to carry on building this universe I've made for her and lying to her about it all week. Whoops.

Bea, my beloved, Happy Valentines Day. You deserve the world and Im so glad I could dedicate this fic to you. Honestly I probably couldn't have gotten the motivation to get back on my feet and write again if it wasn't for you. Thanks for everything you do bby and I hope this lives up to your 'if by some miracle you get me for your gift exchange disregard my prompts and write a TGG prequel' (yes she actually said that) idea. Love you lots xxx

taglist: @cowboydisaster @inkandbloodbound @counteveryfreckle @elifsukirdaghehe @reaveries @delilah-grimes @luvliewriting @mrsarthurmorgan7 @photo1030 @snobbybastard

My Darling Wife,

I’m writing to you from up near Tempest Rim. I’ve tracked this bounty all over the goddamn Grizzlies and I’m ready to come home to you. I miss you so much and I’m real sorry I can’t be home in time for St. Valentines. Hopefully I can catch this bastard soon and make it up to ya. We’ll go to the theatre and sit right at the back, how’s that sound? I’ll move heaven and Earth to be beside you soon, you know I will.

I can’t wait to see you, sweetheart. I’ll be there as fast as I can be with enough money to take you out on the town. Won’t be long, I promise. 

All my love, Arthur

All my love, Arthur

All my love, Arthur

Your finger runs over his looped script, over and over as if it will somehow will your husband out of the crumpled paper and into your bed. It’s been 2 months since the letter arrived, 2 months of the agony of not knowing if he’s dead or alive robbing you of sleep each and every night. You miss him, more than you could ever imagine one person could miss another and you honestly don’t know what you’ll do if he doesn’t come home. 

It’s a 600 dollar bounty, it’s sure to be a tough job you constantly reassure yourself, unable to focus on anything but the absence of half of your very soul in every waking moment. 

The day he comes home starts like any other. Time's arrow marches on, the sun rises and sets over your makeshift family as they work and plan and rob and hunt. You busy yourself planning a job with Karen, cushioned into your schedule between menial tasks so that it’s just that bit easier to not think about him. As usual, your efforts are in vain, but at least the chores are done, your steed Diesel is happy, and, all being well, you and Karen will have about 30 dollars to split between you when the week is out. 

An hour before he comes home, everyone retires to bed, save for John (who’s on watch tonight) and you’re left alone by the campfire. It crackles and pops, embers swirling the air around you. It feels like you stare at the twisting flames until your eyes blur and burn and you can’t tell which are tears of irritation to your senses and which are your heart breaking once more.

Moments before you’re reunited with the second half of your heart, you hear John yelling. It’s instinct that drives your hand into your holster, still resting against your hip despite the late hour, and you perk up like a startled deer, straining to decipher Marston’s words.

“Who is it?!” “Arthur, you dumbass!”

Arthur.

Arthur?

“Arthur?!” It’s a breathless shout, barely heard over the rushing blood in your ears as your feet take you to your husband before your mind can even fathom that he’s here. 

But sure enough, when you reach the edge of camp, heart racing, you see Arthur Morgan riding his chestnut mare straight towards you, spurring her into a gallop as soon as he lays his eye on his waiting wife. Marston probably makes some remark about who ‘decided to show up’, but to you, there is nothing but you and Arthur, two magnets parted by an unnatural force finally reaching each other again with a deafening crash. 

And it is. A crash, that is, when Arthur all but throws himself off his saddle and your bodies collide, great big arms wrapping around your frame. It is then that the tears fall down your cheek, soaking into Arthur’s coat that smells so much like him it truly feels like a dream.

You thought he was dead.

Only when you’re safely in his arms, when he’s pressing frantic kisses to your head, whispering your name over and over into your hair do you allow yourself to admit that fact. You thought he was never coming back, and yet here he is. Words fail you, the overwhelming emotion settling right in your throat.

“Oh, god… oh, darlin’ I-I missed you so much…” 

You feel two large hands cup your cheeks, pulling you in for a kiss that holds everything and anything the past 3 months could have been had you not spent it apart. But everything fits back into place, the world starts spinning again and you’re whole the second Arthur Morgan’s lips meet yours. It lasts a lifetime, it lasts a fraction of a second. You want to stop time, keep Arthur in your arms forever and never again have to go through the torture of being away from each other. The two of you only part to throw near identical scowls at John, who is amusing himself by telling you to get a room.

Unfortunately, as Ms. Grimshaw so often reminds you all, the Van der Linde Camp is not a hotel, so tonight you will not be afforded the luxury of a private suite as John so kindly suggested. There is only your tent, hitched against the gang’s weapons wagon, the old canvas pulled around to offer a little privacy when you and Arthur first started… well, needing the seclusion.

Calloused fingers intertwine with your own digits, Arthur’s other hand flipping John off before his weight pulls you towards your little corner of camp. There's so much purpose in his stride, the need to have you all to himself, not even share you with the lord above or wildlife below, driving him forward. Driving him home. 

When you’re finally, truly alone, the tears welling in your eyes glistening in the candlelight, no words are needed. Soon enough, you’ll talk for hours on end, catching each other up on every little detail of the last few months. But for now, all that there is and all that could matter is right this very second, when Arthur reaches for you, brushing a thumb over the tear tracks on your left cheek. His eyes, looking almost emerald in the dark of night, roam over each and every detail of you with such an intensity in him that you think he’s trying to remember this moment for the rest of time. You’re sure it’s one you could never possibly forget. 

Arthur snakes both arms around your waist, guiding you backwards until the backs of your knees gently hit the cot and you lay back onto it. He covers the full length of you and then some, making you feel so fragile and small. It’s nice to feel breakable for once, to let go of the need to be the strongest in the room, lest you be ridiculed for being too sensitive or too weak or too womanly. Arthur knows just how strong you are, you need to prove nothing to him, so you can submit to his embrace, allow yourself to just breathe for once knowing you can break and there’s re will always be somebody to put you back together.

He lowers himself to your lips, pressing a kiss to them that doesn’t last nearly long enough. Arthur then kisses your nose, then your cheeks and chin, before trailing down to the crook of your neck. Your skin feels as though it’s on fire, so starved for the man you cannot live without that now he’s finally here everything feels that much more intense. The tiniest scrape of Arthur’s teeth against your flesh shoots through every single nerve in your body and you moan right into his ear. You can actually feel him harden against your thigh at the sweet melody of your pleasure. 

Pushing Arthur’s hat off to the side, your fingers rake through his hair, nails scratching at his scalp encouragingly as he nibbles at your skin.

“Oh, Arthur… Oh, I missed you so much…” You breathlessly whisper, feeling your heart skip a beat when he pauses his movements to glance at you from under impossibly long eyelashes, jade green eyes glistening up at you.

“I missed you too, sweetheart. So so much.” His voice is soft, as if he’s handling the peacefulness around you so delicately and it causes the overwhelming emotion to well in your chest and choke up your throat. Arthur sees this, trying not to be too taken with his own surprising amount of emotion himself, and relieves you of your job of a response by directing his attention to the buttons of your shirt. You don’t remember him pushing your jacket off your shoulders, but there it lies on the floor beside the entrance to your tent, so he must have.

Despite the juxtaposition of such dainty buttonholes and such large fingers, Arthur expertly undresses your top half until you’re bare to him. He takes no time at all to take one of your nipples into his mouth, kissing and sucking at it with a hunger you feel right in your toes. You moan loudly, unable to stop yourself after yearning for this very feeling for so long. 

Arthur coos and shushes you and it vibrates across your skin, not helping you stay quiet in the slightest. The hand not tugging on his dirty blonde locks reaches between your two longing bodies to begin to unbuckle his belt. You can feel your own heartbeat throbbing between your legs, your coil growing tighter and tighter by the second. It’s been almost 3 months since your bodies have joined like this, and yet you’re not sure you can wait another minute. 

You’re purring for Arthur, twitching and grinding as your hand fumbles desperately at the belt. His absence from your skin is agony the second he pulls his hips back to sit up straight. Spotting your downright bratty expression, bottom lip protruding in a pout, Arthur chuckles lowly, “Patience, baby… I gotta get these damn clothes off us.” He gestures to his belt, still very much buckled around his waist. Definitely not your fault. He was being far too distracting.

He’s quick, you’ll give him that, shedding his clothes without taking his eyes off you. You burn under his stare, even more so when he crawls back on top of you to slide your boots off one by one and peel your pants and undergarments down your legs.

The heat radiates off his huge body, his cock pulsing with need. The way he’s putting his weight into his arms to stop from crushing you with his weight adds a definition to his already beautifully sculpted body. Reaching down, you brush the tip of your finger oh so gently over his rosy head, finding a bead of cum already leaking, and you snap. You can’t wait a second longer, scratching and gripping at him like he’s the air you need to breathe.

“Please, Arthur, please I need you. S-So long, it’s been so long-” “Shh, I know, princess, I know. I’m gonna take care of you, okay? Gonna take care of your pretty little cunt, I promise.” He soothes you, though his own voice is shaky from the very effort of restraining himself, maintaining his control to not drive into you and ruin you. While he whispers to you, he lines himself up at your entrance and you quiver in anticipation.

In all your years before you met Arthur, you never really saw sex as anything but something to give, or worse, something to be taken from you. You never truly understood, not until you met Arthur, who taught you it’s something to share, to experience. With Arthur, it’s different. It is connection and pleasure and it’s wonderful and god damn it, it’s addictive. So when Arthur slides into you, letting out a visceral, guttural groan as he does, everything is right in the world.

You feel so full, especially when Arthur pushes all the way to the hilt, connecting you completely at the pelvis. The moan that escapes your lips is downright obscene and Arthur crashes down into your mouth to swallow it. 

Maybe it’s the fact that it’s been so long, or the emotion of it all, but you swear you can feel everything. Every vein and ridge, every twitch and movement of his perfect cock as Arthur slowly starts to move in and out of you. 

“Fuck… s-so good, darlin. So tight- y’feel so fucking good, princess…”

You’ve never hurtled so close towards a climax so quickly in your life. His torturously slow, deep thrusts drag into your sweet spot every fucking time and trying to hold back brings a blur into your vision. Your own hips grind against his, Arthur gripping into your flesh to guide you perfectly in time with him.

“I-I’m so close already, Arthur… fuck…” You breathe out, your breath tickling Arthur’s ear and sending a visible shudder down his spine. He looks proud at your admission.

“You missed me that much, huh? Gonna cum for me already, darlin’?” 

He gives you no time to respond, pressing a thumb to your clit and rubbing in time with everything else. You implode, pulling Arthur down to catch the scream you’re about to wake everybody up with. It has never felt so intense, and with every thrust Arthur fucks into you it only grows and grows, shattering you to pieces for Arthur to fix back together again. 

When you return, a rhythmic thudding in your ears, the first thing you see is Arthur, of course. His jaw is fluttering madly, a bead of sweat clinging to his forehead but the candlelight makes him look ethereal. You still can’t believe he’s here, alive.

Tears start to glisten in your eyes. You’ve never cried during sex before, not for anything positive, at least, but somehow this doesn’t feel wrong. Arthur slows again, watching you, and you spot an extra shine to his own jade orbs. He knows. He feels it too. 

He’s right there with you. As he always is.

He brushes a piece of hair stuck to your forehead away, and the gesture is enough to send the tears falling down the same worn path on your cheeks as before.

“I love you, Mr. Morgan…” “I love you, Mrs. Morgan…” 

It seems to become too much for Arthur to stay still, and you’re glad for it. You’re desperate for the friction, already flying towards another orgasm. He’s really fucking into you this time, pulling almost all the way out before driving back in. He’s groaning and growling and you decide in that moment that it’s your favourite sound in all the world. 

“I… I ain’t gonna last much longer, baby…”

“C-Cum in me…” “Huh?” He slows, shuddering at the exertion required to control his movements, “I-”

But you’re not listening to his protests, your nails digging into the skin of his back and ass and anywhere else you can reach to urge him forwards again.

“Please Arthur, I-I need you… I need you to cum with me, I need you with me…” you plead with him, not truly understanding your need but honouring it. You’ve been without him for so long, you deserve him with you now.

He appears to consider you for just a moment, before diving down to lock your lips with his. His tongue delves into your mouth, tasting every bit of you and he starts to pump into you unreservedly. His body grinds against yours and the friction is perfect and you’re so fucking full and before you can even try to hold back, you’re cumming again, stars scattering your vision, heart pounding out of your chest to find release from it’s mortal, physical cage. Your inner walls twitch around Arthur’s length and this time, he doesn’t hold back either. 

His eyes fly open and lock onto yours as you both climax together. It’s vulnerable and strange, but perhaps more connected than you ever thought possible for two people to be. 

Arthur’s cock twitches inside you, pumping out his spend as he groans viscerally, completely losing control of his rhythm as he thrusts into you one last time, harsh and deep. You’ve never experienced this before, with Arthur or any other man, normally erring on the side of caution when it came to such matters, but even as you come down you can’t bring yourself to regret it. Whatever you and Arthur just experienced together felt spiritual, and worth much more than a little risk.

Arthur collapses, even as depleted as he is still considerate enough to collapse onto his elbows and not crush you. He slides out of you, earning a little wince, and rolls to the side so you can rest your head on his chest. It’s like a locket that’s been ripped apart, finally fixed together with the most satisfying click. 

═══════☆═══════

Two months later, life has returned to its equilibrium. You and Arthur are perhaps clingier, still in a sort of second honeymoon phase where you just can’t seem to keep your hands off each other, more so than usual. It’s a side effect of prolonged solitude, you’re sure.

The first time it happens, you blame Pearson and think nothing of it. It’s pretty early in the morning and you’re sitting with Tilly and Abigail, peeling potatoes for the stew tonight. Abigail is venting her frustrations about when John did this and John said that, and everything feels so normal. Pearson arrives, throwing a rather large, rather dead fish onto the table you’re leaning against and you feel the thud from the weight of it vibrate against your back. 

It isn’t until the smell invades your senses that everything starts to feel off. It smells exactly like all the other fish Pearson has ever slammed onto that poor table, which doesn’t explain why you immediately lurch forwards, grabbing an empty bucket and throwing up your breakfast. The fish stench is suffocating and all you can do is get the hell away from it, not noticing when Abigail’s brows knit together almost… knowingly?

You skip the stew that night. 

―

The second time it happens, you try not to think about it. You’re riding Diesel and almost don’t make it off him in time. There is nothing to set you off, no horse shit or rotting animal at the side of the road, and yet in an instant your stomach feels like it has been flipped upside down. 

The sheer volume of your retching catches Arthur’s attention and he tugs on the leather reins in his hands to steady his mare. 

“Darlin’? Y’alright?” 

His concern is evident in his tone and in the tight line between his brows, which deepens when he finds you unable to respond in anything but a frantic nod. He dismounts, spurs clicking against the dusty ground when he approaches you. 

“Oh, sweetheart… that’s it, easy, easy… you’re okay…”

You feel gentle circles rubbed into the tense muscles of your back as you try to get through this again. It’s not lost on you that Arthur is speaking to you like a spooked horse, but it actually really does help. (You decide to prioritise peace of mind and not psychoanalyse why that is). Eventually, it relents and you regain your composure, albeit somewhat less gracefully than you’d have liked. 

“Sorry… I don’t know what’s gotten into me, maybe I ate somethin’.”

Your apology for something you can’t help earns you a sad smile from your husband, who places a loving kiss on the top of your head before reaching for your discarded hat and putting it back on for you.

“Y’don’t gotta apologise. I gotcha, darlin’.”

You know he does.

He always does.

―

The third time it happens, the luxury of denial is stolen from you. It’s early enough that your view while you sit with Abigail drinking coffee involves glorious hues of orange and pink scattered around the rising sun. It’s peaceful, tranquil. The warmth of the little metal mug in your hands and Arthur’s jacket around your shoulders is enough to ward off the fresh morning chill in the air.

There is absolutely no warning when it hits, when it happens again. You’re so goddamn sick (no pun intended) of hurling. Your eyes water and your throat hurts a little and you curse under your breath when it’s over. Abi is beside you, rubbing your back in an attempt to soothe you. She waits until it’s over before speaking hesitantly.

“Uh, can I ask you somethin’?” 

You nod, eyes still red and glistening as you swirl coffee around your mouth to take away from the awful, acidic taste lingering. 

“When did you last bleed?”

“What, like an injury? Uh, I cut my hand couple days back, but I don’t see what-“

… Oh fuck. 

═══════☆═══════

The anxiety bounces around your body and you decide that you’ve become far too acquainted with the concept of nausea. You can actually tell the difference between nerves  twisting your stomach and… well, let’s say it as it is:  morning sickness. This is the former, you deduce, spinning both your engagement and wedding ring around your finger to give your hands something better to do than carve fingernail-shaped moons into your palm. He should be home any minute now. Any minute now and it will all change forever.

It’s quite late, but the poker game Arthur was scoping out for potential jobs is known to last a while. You’re the only one still awake, poking the embers of the campfire to keep yourself as comfortable as possible. 

You hear hooves hitting dry dirt first, and it seems to trigger your fight or flight response. God, you’d love to run away from this, but that is pretty much impossible, so fight it is. It’ll be the greatest fight of your life, you’ll soon learn, one you’re privileged to be a part of. But right now, it feels like an all-consuming unknown. 

Arthur can tell something is wrong the second he sees you. You’re terrible at hiding things, especially from him. He always reads you as though you have a poster advertising your feelings printed on your forehead. Arthur dismounts, kissing you tenderly on the temple and wrapping his arms around you.

“What’re you still doin’ up, darlin’? Is everything alright?” You can feel his worry vibrating in his chest as you nuzzle into his embrace. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine, I just… Can we talk? I kept the fire goin’.” You say it into his shirt, reluctant to move from this hold.

“Of course…” there’s something in his voice, a tense apprehension that really doesn’t help the knot contorting itself in your gut. 

While you’re more than capable of keeping a fire going, Arthur is an expert, and has it healthily burning within seconds of you sitting down on the overturned log the gang has fashioned into a bench. You’re back to spinning your beautiful gold bands around your finger, trying to remember to breathe in and out every so often.

“What’s goin’ on, sweetheart?” His voice is so soft, so kind that it makes you want to cry. But you promised yourself you wouldn’t until you’d told him, because this might just be the most important conversation you’ve ever had, and you definitely won’t get through it if you’re a blubbering mess.

“I, uh… I… somethin’s happened.”

You hear his breath hitch in his throat and Arthur leans towards you, completely enveloping your hands in his. They’re sandwiched in now and you can’t fiddle with your rings anymore.

“What? What happened? Was it Micah? If he’s said somethin’ to you, I’ll kill him, the rat bastard-”

“No, no, it’s… as much as I’d love to see that, it’s not him.” 

The tension releases. Just a little bit.

“I’m pregnant.” 

Oh wait, there it is. 

The silence is deafening, even though you’re almost certain it isn’t actually silent out here right now. There's a fire going and crickets are just metres away, you’re just shutting down with nerves. 

The normally so often tense, fluttering jaw of Arthur Morgan is slack, his eyes wide and gaping at you, occasionally flicking down to your so far bump-less belly. (You should know- you’ve been obsessively looking in a mirror any chance you get for some sort of sign that this is really happening). 

Say something. Please say something. Please don’t be angry. Oh, God please don’t hate me. 

“I-I… You’re pregnant?” He repeats, reassuring you that you haven’t actually gone deaf, though his tone holds no indication of anything but shock. That’s probably fair…

You nod, hands instinctively reaching over your belly. It feels… weird. Holding your hands over your baby. Yours and Arthur’s baby. 

“It happened a couple months back, when you got back from The Grizzlies, I think… I-I’m sorry, Arthur. I shoulda’ been more careful and-and…” You’re rambling, filling a silence that probably should just be allowed to be a silence.

“There… There’s gonna be a baby?”

There. Right there, adorning Arthur’s beautiful features, is the pull of a smile. It chokes you up instantly, so far deep in nightmares of arguments and unhappiness that you hadn’t even considered the good. You start to nod, a little bit of your fringe falling in your face.

“Yeah… There’s gonna be a baby. Our baby…”

“Our baby…” He repeats, his arm raising to brush the hair away from your eyes in such a natural manner it feels like it’s just his instinct to care for you. It is his instinct to care for you, Arthur has shown you that in every minute of every day of your marriage, and suddenly you’re not sure why you’ve been so scared. 

“I’m gonna be a dad?” He still seems in disbelief, but that’s normal. It’s taken you a few days to come to terms with it, and even then the fingernail marks in your palms are still red raw. 

“You’re gonna be a dad.”

It hits him. Really hits him and he all but throws himself into you, scooping you up and spinning you around as he laughs unreservedly.

“Well goddamn, I’m gonna be a Daddy!” 

You laugh with him, worries and anxiety a distant memory as your feet swing around in the air. You’re probably waking the camp up, but you don’t care all that much. Right now, you’re the happiest girl in the world.

A baby. There’s gonna be a baby. Arthur’s baby.

Really, it’s the greatest gift a cowgirl could ask for.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan rdr2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan fanfic #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan fluff #arthur morgan x f!reader #arthur morgan x y/n #rdr2 fanfiction #red dead redepmtion 2 #arthur morgan rdr #rdr2 arthur #rdr valentines change

[sunonyoreface]

He Knows - Simon “Ghost” Riley Pt. 18

An: Thanks for your patience, March is a really busy month for me! The tension is building and I can't wait for the next part (19 is looking steamy).

Hi there, this is a series about Simon Riley from COD. This series does not follow any of the established plots or timelines from the games. While I use the names of some characters, they are different from the ones in COD.

Summary: You’re held captive by 141 for reasons unknown.

Word count: 2800

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

Warnings: angst, military setting, explicit language, graphic depictions of violence, use of knives, mentions of death.

I think of all the phone calls I’ve made throughout my life. The hundreds of hours I’ve spent talking to friends and family. Sharing the exciting news of getting into college with my childhood best friend who moved away in elementary school. Gossiping with my favourite coworker about an awful shift when she didn’t open with me in the morning. Listening closer to hear the whispers of shared secrets between the few people I really care about. Talking late into the night about that one person I couldn’t scrub from my mind. The conversation slowly dying down but neither of us ready to hang up. Neither of us ready for the silence after the line goes dead.  The relief of hearing their voice after days or weeks of nothing. All those conversations flicker through my mind as I stare at the landline sitting on Captain Price’s desk. It’s a clunky, faded, black thing with a rubber coil attaching the receiver to the phone and the numbers on the keys have long since rubbed off.

I’m not prepared to hear his voice. After learning all I know about him, I don’t think it’ll sound the same. There’s no way the man I’m about to speak to is the one I’ve known my whole life.

Soap was supposed to be here. Then five minutes ago, he was called out to demolitions by another sergeant who said it was “urgent”. I wasn’t sure what his specialty was until recently and after getting to know him better, it makes perfect sense. He spends almost every waking moment out there, yet won’t tell me what they’re doing. Whenever I ask, he sits up straighter and has to suppress his smile, but I don’t miss the excitement in his eyes when he says it’s classified.

Right now I’d rather be there with Soap than sat in front of Price and Ghost and some scrawny man with equipment hooked to that damn phone. I’d rather be almost anywhere than here.

The script crinkles in my hand. The Captain already gave the go-ahead. Now it’s all on me. I feel Ghost’s eyes on me. I want to find some comfort in them, but just can’t. After he left, he told Price about the mole. He had to, I get it, but I also can’t help the feeling that nothing I say will stay between us.

I wish I was back in his room, lying on top of the covers and reading his copy of Huckleberry Finn knowing that no one could get to me. Only Simon.

And then the phone is in my hand, pressed against my ear: ringing once, twice. And then it stops. Shuffling sounds fill the other line. Then, I hear his voice. That voice that softens when it speaks to me. That has always been so understanding. That ordered those men to mercilessly take the lives of innocent civilians praying for salvation.

“Y/n?” he asks, almost unsure – like the possibility of talking to me might just be too good to be true.

“Hi,” the word dad almost slips from my lips, but I know if it does, I won’t be able to keep it together. My hands don’t feel attached to my body. Like somewhere in the numb space of my forearms, they were simply disconnected. My mouth is dry and I eye the script, but can’t get the words to come into focus.

“Are you okay? Have they hurt you? Are you eating?” there’s just something to his voice, that I can’t quite pin down. Something disingenuous. Like he’s only playing the role of a concerned parent. When I meet Ghost’s eyes, I know he hears it too. He nods, urging me to speak.

“I’m fine,” my voice is strangely even. “They said I could see you again. That they’d make a trade,” the rest of my body disconnects from my mind and suddenly I’m standing beside Ghost watching myself talk on the phone. The hope in my voice is real. The girl on the phone is going to go home safely to her dad. And it sounds like she genuinely believes every word she’s saying.

“Oh my sweet girl,” he croons. “I want nothing more. Your mother and I have been worried sick.”

“Mom?” I latch onto the hopeful word. “Is she there with you?”

“No, but she’s somewhere safe, being guarded by some of our best. You’ll get to see her soon,” he purposely leaves out her location, unknowing of 141’s extensive intel.

“Dad, I-I,” just like in the script, Price audibly warns me we’re short on time. An intentional move to add more pressure to our conversation. My father will have heard him in the background. “They said I can’t talk much longer,” my tone is rushed and worried. I see a small smile tug on the corner of Price’s mouth. I’m convincing.

“Hey,” he says. “Soon enough we’ll have all the time in the world,” the ultranationalist who snuck into my room said he was displeased that I leaked the ambush info, but you’d never pick up on that while listening to him on the phone. He hides his cruelty so well. Even knowing what he’s capable of now, the man I’m speaking to just doesn’t sound like the type. “But y/n, I’m going to need to know what they want from us first. Okay?”

“Okay,” I mumble like a scared child. I smooth out the script across my thighs and read off their demands. I recite the names of five men. Two of their leaders and three of 141’s soldiers who were taken prisoner at one point or another. Neither my father nor my uncles are on the list. There’s no way they’d trade one of themselves for me. Even I know that.

“Those are the men they want?” I hear a newfound tension in his voice as he shifts in his seat.

“That’s what they told me to say,” my eyes are glued to the paper. If I look at Ghost or Price now, I’ll lose my concentration.

He sighs deeply, “I’ll need a few days little bird, those are some top dogs. But I’m going to get you out, don’t you worry.”

I sniffle as though this is too much. Like hearing his voice made me realize how much I miss him and now I might cry. “Love you,” my voice cracks.

“Love you too darling,” the line goes silent for just a moment. “I’ll be in touch,” with these words, his voice significantly deepens. He’ll be in touch. He has his ways of contacting me despite 141’s precautions. I should expect a shadowy visitor very soon.

Then he hangs up. I place the phone back on the mount. Horror creeps its way up my shoulders and I know I’m back in my own body.

“Well done,” Price congratulates me. He’s surprised I did so well. I don’t come off as the type of person to perform well under pressure – I normally don’t – yet the phone call was almost flawless.

“Thank you,” I attempt a small smile, but inside, I feel awful. Dirty. Blindsided. I can’t believe that is the same man I’ve known my entire life. Sinking betrayal anchors my bones to the depths of the Mariana Trench. The immense pressure makes my head feel as though it’s about to implode upon itself. But along with the shame I now carry because of our kinship, there’s also molten anger stirring within my core, threatening to erupt.

“Thank you, Sergeant, you’re dismissed,” Price turns to the man who recorded the call and waits for him to leave. Ghost hasn’t said a word almost this entire time. Yet he closely watches the man leave with his equipment as suspicious as ever. He doesn’t trust a soul. Especially now. “Within the next few days, your little friend will pay another visit. We’ve installed another camera outside your door and tapped the room. Tell him the truth, just like he asked, we don’t need to aggravate them further, but it is essential he doesn’t think you snitched again,” Price’s tone has turned serious. He understands the gravity of the situation.

The ultranationalist could decide to kill me if he thinks I snitched again. He would certainly order the execution of my friends back home. While Price doesn’t care about them, he needs me alive. They won’t have the opportunity to ambush the Ultranationalists without me alive for a supposed exchange.

“Any questions?” he asks. For once, I have none.

“No sir.”

“Right. Ghost, your request is approved. Take the afternoon to complete it. Return her to her quarters before 1800,” he nods once toward the lieutenant. And then we’re off.

I don’t know why, but I expected him to say something as we navigate the halls. However, like usual, Ghost is completely stoic.

When we first met, I was always silently instructed to walk in front of him. Ghost was suspicious of me. Despite being cleared by intel, part of him still considered the possibility that I could be an Ultranationalist. By walking behind me he eliminated any chance of a surprise attack. His analytical eyes would trail up and down my frame trying to decipher any hidden motives. He’d take note of the length of my stride. How I hold my head, my shoulders. How my hands fidgeted and I picked at my nails and then my cuticles once they were too short.

Something has changed since then. A lot has changed.

Now I walk beside him. Close, but not close enough that our arms brush. Not close enough to attract suspicion. He no longer glares at me like I could turn on him at any moment. There’s so much more depth to his eyes when they steal small glances my way. Sometimes – like now as we walk along the sparsely populated halls - I feel him step closer so we’re almost touching, the heat of each other’s body is just noticeable, before he reminds himself that someone could come across us at any moment. Then, after a brief moment of indulgence, he once again shifts away to a more professional distance. I sense the same kind of longing pulses through his veins as mine.

My thoughts are interrupted as we continue to walk past my room.

“Aren’t you dropping me off?” the confusion is evident in my voice as my pace slows. Ghost turns to look at me while keeping his pace.

“No. We’re training,” he says. Training? Is this the request Price mentioned earlier? What kind of training is he referring to? What is Ghost planning?

“We are?”

“Affirmative,” he confirms. His long legs are hard to keep up to as they stride with purpose.

“What kind of training?” I ask.

“You’ll see,” Ghost says. And if I’m not mistaken, I almost detect a hint of teasing in his voice.

Yet, Ghost doesn’t take me to a gym or shooting range, instead, he leads me right back to his quarters.

“Is this a joke?” suspicion is evident in my voice. I hesitate as he waits for me to enter first.

“Negative,” the curt response is typical. He isn’t about to volunteer any additional information.

“What could we possibly train for in your room?” my mind involuntarily wanders to a variety of things, but none that will help with the exchange. As I make eye contact with him, my cheeks flush almost immediately. Ghost’s gaze is strong and unwavering. He knows exactly where my thoughts have drifted.

“I’ll show you,” he motions to the door. A small ball of nervous energy forms in my lower stomach. The type that has no place being here right now. The type that’ll get me into trouble. “First, I want to know your thoughts on the phone call?”

“I don’t want to think about the phone call,” I say as I leave him behind in the hall. Once inside, he takes his vest off and hangs it on the back of the door. Facing away from me, he slips off the skull mask and quickly replaces it with a plain black balaclava. My whole body freezes at the sight. I can’t believe he just took it off in front of me. His hair is darker than I thought it’d be. The strands are a stark contrast against his fair eyelashes. He wears it clean cut like most men in the military, short on the sides and more forgiving on top. But it’s overall longer than I imagined. My mind drifts to what it would feel like to run my fingers through the delicate strands. To gently trace my nails along his scalp. To roughly grasp him by the hair as he–

“It’s not often Price congratulates someone on their performance,” Ghost’s head tilts as he gauges my response. I don’t speak, my mind still stuck on the fact he took his mask off in front of me, even if I couldn’t see his face. “You were almost as good there as you were during the interrogations,” he continues. Heat creeps up my neck. I don’t know if it’s a feeling of flattery or embarrassment.

“I’m not good at it. It feels like I’m not even there,” like the actions aren’t even my own. It’s a dangerous feeling. How far can a person go when they don’t feel responsible for their actions? How far could I go?

“But you know you are?” his tone becomes mildly concerned. Does he think I’m slipping from reality?

“I know I am. It’s just easier to separate myself from what I’m doing,” I think out loud, my voice slowly fading toward the end of my sentence. Maybe it’s my brain’s way of protecting myself?

“Y/n, if it’s too much let me know,” Ghost says seriously as a gloved hand reaches out and touches my chin. It has been too much since the moment they kidnapped me. But now all I can do now is figure out how to survive until the exchange is over. “For this too.”

The second half of his sentence catches my attention.

“And what is ‘this?’” what does he keep alluding to?

Ghost’s delicate hand on my chin leaves as he reaches for something strapped to his belt. The gloved hand unsheathes a steel knife. He flips it around and offers the handle to me. I hesitantly take it from him, all the while closely watching his eyes. There’s a glint to them. Something troublesome. At this point, his intentions could be anything.

“What’s your safe word?” his husky voice is suddenly a lot lower as he takes a step backward and squares his shoulders. There’s an ambiguous spark in his eyes. One that’s about to catch fire. I can almost smell the damp, smouldering smoke in the air.

“Safe word?” my breath catches in my throat and I try to force a swallow. I choke back a nervous laugh.  He’s joking, right? The knife feels unnatural in my hand.

“Think of one, sweetheart,” he rasps. There’s that damn name again. The one that makes it so fucking hard to think. My mind snags on it like a loose thread to a nail, pulling every thought out of order. Only he can mend me.

“Um, I don’t – Soap, I guess?” his call sign comes to mind first.

“Not Soap. Something different,” his head juts to the side with disapproval.

“Okay. Fine. Pizza then,” I’m still confused as to why he wants me to have a safe word.

“Pizza,” Ghost repeats to himself, burning it to memory. He takes another step back and I almost feel myself relaxing. My shoulders don’t feel so tense. The knife is no longer so heavy. I glance down at the mean little thing in my hand. I wonder how many people have died by this blade?

Ghost doesn’t wait for my eyes to return to his. From the edge of my peripheral, something large lunges at me. He’s incredibly fast. Just a flash of movement in the dim light. Fear hasn’t had the chance to take over yet. Instinct kicks in and I jump back out of the way, just narrowly escaping his first attempt at grabbing me. But there’s nowhere to go. The room is small and he’s closer to the door than I am. He wants me to fight. He’s forcing me to.

“The fuck are you doing?” I angrily spit at him as I corner myself between the dresser and wall, knife still in hand.

Ghost looks as terrifying as ever as he shifts to face me once more. His intimidating frame takes up the entire walkway between the bed and dresser. Those thick shoulders heave along with his chest as his breathing deepens. His gloved hands stay open at his sides, eager to grab at me again. Ghost’s sharp eyes look darker than before. He is completely locked in on me.

There is no escaping what comes next.

Pt 19:

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley cod #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley imagine #ghost fanfiction #ghost imagine #cod ghost #cod ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #cod fanfic #cod imagine #cod #cod mw x reader #mw2 imagine #mw2 fanfic #ghost mwii #call of duty mwii

[its-not-sof]

intimately aware

mark (fluff + smut)

summary: romanticizing the concept of knowing your partner deeply, and finding the joy of discovering something new. a series of vignettes capturing moments of everyday intimacy.

January 12th - 7:34am

“Y/N, it’s time to get up,”

You whined at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice. It felt like it had only been a second since your alarm went off, you promised you were only closing your eyes for just one minute longer. You mumbled a half-hearted unintelligible retort as you sunk right back into your pillows. It wasn’t your fault that your new sheets were so comfy.

Mark smiled and laughed at your groggy display.

“I know it’s nice and warm under there, but I also know you’re going to hate me if I let you be late for work again.”

You groaned, turning your back to him indignantly.

“Just five more minutes…” you pleaded sleepily.

“You said that five minutes ago, love.”

“Yeah, but this time I mean it…” you mumbled, curling into your covers.

Mark smirked.

“I promise you’ll feel better once you’re up and in the shower.”

You closed your eyes again, silent,

“I promise I’ll make you feel better once you’re up and in the shower…”

The addendum suddenly piqued your interest, as you rolled over to face Mark.

“Promise?”

Mark smiled.

“I promise. Now get over here, pretty girl…”

With that, you were coaxed out from beneath the covers, following Mark’s enthusiastic lead to your bathroom.

February 13th - 8:39pm

“Are you sure about this?” You asked quietly.

Mark searched your hesitant gaze.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything, Y/N,” he replied, lacing your fingers in his and placing a kiss to the back of your hand.

You breathed out an anxious sigh. You desperately hoped they would like you.

“I’m nervous,” you mumbled, glancing off to the side.

“Don’t be. They’re going to love you just as much as I do,” Mark whispered, sincerely. “Well, it’s pretty hard to top how much I love you, so that might be a stretch,” he joked, smiling at you to brighten your mood.

You took a deep breath as Mark turned off the car engine and stepped out. You followed suit, putting on your best smile.

You hoped they’d see just how much you loved their son.

March 9th - 1:26am

“You like that, huh?”

You whimpered beneath your boyfriend���s touch, his fingers finding your most sensitive bud with practiced ease. He gently teased you, giving slight pressure, just the way he knew you liked it.

“M-Mark,” you moaned, breathing heavy.

He quickly removed his fingers, bringing them up to his mouth and making a show of sucking them clean. You suddenly whined at the loss of contact.

“You drive me insane,” you murmured, slamming your lips against his, pulling him closer.

Mark’s hands continued their exploration down your figure, roughly palming your flesh and gripping you with a fierce possessiveness. He began to trail hot kisses down your throat, nipping and sucking at your delicate skin.

“Mark, I need you to fuck me,” you begged, tangling your fingers in his hair.

Mark smiled in between kisses, deliberately slowing down again.

“Now, Mark, please…” you murmured. “I can’t handle your teasing tonight.”

Mark smirked.

“You know me too well, pretty girl…”

April 27th - 3:34pm

“How much longer, Y/N?”

You had been sitting in front of your laptop all day, answering emails, working on assignments, and overall taking way too long for your impatient boyfriend to handle.

“Just a few more minutes, love, I promise,” you answered. Mark pouted.

“You said that an hour ago, babe,” he retorted, bringing his chair closer to your desk. You sighed.

“Yeah, but this time I mean it,” you smiled at him sweetly, knowing you were pushing your luck.

“C’mon, Y/N, just give me an hour and I’ll let you work all night if you want to,” Mark pleaded. Your lips curled into a smirk at his words.

“I hope I’m working on something much more fulfilling all night, Mark,” you chided, finally stepping away from your computer and into his waiting arms. Mark smiled.

“I knew I’d get you eventually,” he bragged, shifting your body across his lap and pulling you in for a soft kiss. You rolled your eyes but inevitably curled into his embrace.

“You get me for one hour, love. Don’t make me regret it…” you murmured, ghosting your lips across his neck.

Mark’s ears perked up at your suddenly suggestive tone. Not another moment passed before he lifted you up into his arms and carried your giggling self to straight your bedroom.

May 21st - 6:32pm

“Mark…”

You stared at your boyfriend from across the bedroom. What on earth was he thinking?

“What? I thought you liked surprises, Y/N?”

Mark glanced back at you innocently, giving you his best puppy eyes.

Your cheeks flamed in embarrassment as you looked at your boyfriend’s idea of a “surprise”.

“I can’t wear this, Mark…” you mumbled. Your fingers brushed the skimpy lace garment neatly wrapped with care in the luxury box in front of you. Just looking at it set your insecurities ablaze. Mark sighed softly, taking a step closer to you.

“Y/N,” he began, closing the box and gently taking your hand in his. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you upset.” You shook your head quickly.

“I’m not upset! I just— I’ve never— I’m not used to getting gifts like this,” you stuttered. “I didn’t know you wanted to see me in something like this, I guess I’m a little bit embarrassed. It’s not your fault.”

Mark smiled, brushing your hair away from your face and bringing your hesitant gaze back to his sincere eyes.

“Well, the surprise wasn’t supposed to be that I want to see you in that, Y/N,” he murmured. “You know how sexy you are to me, right? But I want you to be comfortable too. Next time, I’ll ask you first.”

You nodded silently, leaning into his tender touch.

“I’ll wear it, but just for you, okay?”

June 10th - 12:24am

“Can you keep doing that, please…”

Your boyfriend sighed in your arms as you ran your fingers through his soft, dark hair. You smiled, lightly scratching your fingers against his scalp.

“Of course,” you murmured, relishing in the fact that you got to hold him close and make him feel good for once. These moments were becoming scarce, with his schedules seemingly never-ending and your own career taking off it was hard to find moments of quiet intimacy.

Mark’s breathing began to even out, slowing slightly as he relaxed into your embrace. You pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head, pulling him closer to your chest.

“I love you, sweet boy.”

July 23rd - 7:45pm

“Mark, have you seen my—“ you called to your boyfriend before abruptly colliding into him.

“These?” He teased, holding up your favorite pair of shoes.

You glared at him playfully before giving him a quick kiss on the cheek, taking the shoes from his grasp.

“Thanks,” you mumbled. “I guess I’m just a little scatterbrained today.”

Mark smiled.

“It’s no problem, I know you always forget where your shoes are when you leave them by the front door.”

You gave your boyfriend a grateful look, slipping your shoes on quickly.

“Okay, I’m ready,” you declared. “How do I look?”

Mark’s eyes lingered on your body, noting how the dress you chose showed little skin but somehow made you even more alluring to him. He smirked.

“If I answer with what that dress makes me what to do to you, we’re not going to make it out the door in time,” he murmured, drawing you close and pressing a kiss on your neck, not wanting to mess up your carefully applied makeup.

You giggled at his response and playfully pushed him off you.

“Alright, settle down, pretty boy,” you replied, quickly kissing his cheek.

Your lip gloss left a shiny pout mark on his face, but he didn’t seem to mind. He wanted nothing more than to show everyone tonight that the prettiest girl in the room was all his.

August 1st - 11:52pm

”Mark…”

A small mumble of your boyfriend’s name tumbled from your lips as you slept fitfully. He still wasn’t home, and as ashamed as you might be to admit it, you never slept the same without him there.

After tossing and turning for what felt like ages, you heard the sound of your bedroom door opening.

You turned to face the direction of the noise, and you smiled when you saw your boyfriend’s tired form heading towards your bed.

“Mmm… Hi, love,” you whispered, waiting for him to join you under the covers. Mark cradled your face in his hands gently.

“I’ll be back after I shower, I know you can’t sleep without me,” he teased, kissing your forehead.

Once your boyfriend was back in bed with you, you felt your body relax into his arms. Mark shifted closer to you, burying his face in your hair.

“I missed you, today,” he admitted softly. You let out a soft sigh.

“I always miss you, Mark,” you mumbled, stroking his cheek.

You boyfriend stilled, hesitating before he spoke.

“I don’t want you to have to miss me, Y/N. I promise you’ll never have to sleep alone,” he murmured. “Soon…”

September 27th - 10:32am

You slept in on your day off, since rolling out of bed in the mid-morning was a luxury you could hardly ever afford.

You stretched as you made your way to the kitchen. Your tired gaze nearly missed the surprise waiting for you on the counter.

‘for Y/N—

enjoy your day off, sleepyhead :)

all my love — M’

Your favorite iced coffee drink sat next to the handwritten note, a small heart drawn on the side of the cup. You smiled to yourself and wondered how you got so lucky.

October 31st - 10:15pm

“You’re so cute when you do that.”

Your boyfriend smiled bashfully.

“What are you talking about?”

You laughed and pushed his hair away from his face.

“When you do that thing with your lips. You always bite your lower lip when you’re thinking hard about something. What’s on your mind, Mark?”

Your boyfriend laughed and looked down at his lap, suddenly shy.

“It’s nothing,” he whispered.

You gave him a disapproving look. You knew he was hiding something. Mark sighed in defeat.

“It’s just— seeing you giving out candy to all those kids trick-or-treating tonight made me think about how you would be as a mom. I know it’s weird, but I kind of liked it…” he admitted, avoiding your gaze.

You smiled faintly.

“Do you want kids someday, Mark?”

Your boyfriend hesitated before turning to look at you.

“Yeah, I think I do. I’ve never thought about it until recently, but my god, a little version of… you and me would be so fucking cute.”

You stared at your boyfriend, an unfamiliar feeling bubbling up inside you.

“I think I want that too,” you whispered, pulling him in for a gentle kiss.

Mark responded in kind, slipping his arms around your waist and pulling you close.

“I love you, Y/N…”

November 6th - 6:35pm

“Mark, come back… it’s too cold without you,” you whined as you boyfriend got up from the couch.

“I’ll be right back, Y/N, I promise,” he answered, kissing the top of your head.

Your heating was out during the coldest time of the year, and you decided to use your boyfriend as a replacement heat source. Mark had no complaints, immediately volunteering to hold in his arms while you worked on your emails.

You shivered slightly in his absence, pulling your blanket around your shoulders.

“I’m back, c’mere,” Mark opened his arms and coaxed you back onto his lap. Once you were settled again, he sighed into your shoulder.

“Hey, Mark,” you murmured, hesitantly.

Mark hummed in acknowledgement, waiting for you to continue.

You took a deep breath, hesitating before letting out a small sigh.

“It’s nothing,” you whispered, relaxing back in his arms.

Mark closed his eyes, content to hold you close as long as you’d let him.

December 29th - 8:47pm

“Mark— Ah!”

You cried out as your boyfriend teased you through your third climax that night. His tongue flicked and swirled across your heat, making you squirm against his face. Mark slowly pulled away, admiring his work.

“Do you have one more round in you, pretty girl?” he murmured, pressing soft kisses on your inner thighs, sucking and biting the smooth flesh.

Your breathing was still labored and your eyes slid closed for a moment, coming down from the pleasure high you’d just experienced.

“Give me just a second, okay?” You huffed, a smile stretching across your face as you finally caught your breath.

Mark moved to brush your hair away from your face and steal your waiting lips in a passionate kiss.

“Y/N…” he whispered your name like a prayer, reverently admiring your post-coital afterglow expression.

You slowly opened your eyes and lost yourself in his intense gaze.

“I love you,” you whispered, brushing your fingers across his cheek, moving to stroke his hair the way you knew he liked.

“Can I show you how much I love you, Y/N?” Mark whispered, a hint of nervousness in his voice.

You smiled.

“Please,” you replied, capturing his lips in another kiss.

Mark smiled, and instead of returning to his previous position, he reached over to your nightstand drawer.

You watched his movements, confused, until he returned to you with a small velvet box in his fingers.

“Y/N, will you—“

“Yes.”

#nct mark #nct mark smut #mark lee smut #mark lee fluff #nct mark fluff #nct fluff #nct smut #nct timestamps #oh my goodness y’all I don’t know where this came from #not sure how I feel about it yet #I don’t usually write longer fics so pls be gentle with me LOL #i hope y’all enjoy #love u guys <3 #sof’s nct writing ✍🏻

[wrencatte]

mini-fic 5!! (ish) Post-Survivor. Rambler Crew + Mantis Crew + Cal's ponchos. Omniscient POV. 1k words Reminder! I post these on my Ao3 as well (a day or so later), including an alt version of mini fic 3 that's Ao3 exclusive!

“That is not a good look.”

Cal frowns and looks down at his new poncho, stretching it out from the bottom to put it on full display. “What’s wrong with it?”

“It clashes with your hair,” Merrin says.

“Everything clashes with my hair.

“Well, that is worse.”

“It smells,” Greez complains. “Where did you find that thing, the garbage?!”

Cal grins. “Actually – .”

“Please no.”

“I found it in an oggdo abode.”

“And you put it on?” Greez demands in horror, his voice higher and squeakier than Cal’s ever heard it get before.

Cal stares at him for a long, long moment before he lets out a sharp giggle, and then that giggle turns into a full-on cackle. He falls against the bar top for support. The present cantina patrons watch in amusement and fondness as their resident Jedi turns red faced at the force of his laughter. They don’t get to hear him laugh very often, and the smell of his ‘new’ poncho is nearly worth it.

Greez isn’t done: “Why the hell is there even an oggdo on this planet? I thought we left that sithspawn on Bogano!”

“Maybe it followed you just as the boglings did,” Merrin suggests, patting Cal on the back as he wheezes. “Perhaps you missed it on the ship, it seems quite miss-able.” That, for some reason, just makes Cal start back up again, covering his face as his ears turn bright red. It’s a borderline hysterical laugh, but everyone very carefully avoids making note of that.

Greez points at her. “You, be quiet. And you.” He marches up to Cal and starts tugging on his ‘new’ poncho, but all he succeeds in is yanking the Jedi around while he smacks at the latero’s hands. “Take it off! I can’t have you stinkin’ up my saloon!”

“Hey! Hey! C’mon, it’s not that bad!”

“No, it is.”

“It really is, Cal.”

“Sorry, Red, but that thing smells worse than nekko crap.”

Cal turns to his gathered friends with betrayed tooka eyes. It really only works on Zygg, who immediately looks away, hiding her face with a hand so she’s not swayed by them. Mosey covers her nose for emphasis even though she’s smelled way worse on her own adventuring. She’s even said so and Cal swears a bilemaw smells worse than the oggdo did. Cal covers his heart in mock betrayal before all the pointed looks and disgusted expressions makes him reluctantly give in and pull off the pink poncho. He drops it into Greez’s waiting hands. He knows when he’s been outnumbered despite what some people would think.

“Good,” Greez says, holding it as far away from himself as possible. Which isn’t very far, but Cal counts that as pay back for making him take it off in the first place. “I’ll just…run this a couple hundred times in the washer and give it back – .”

“Tomorrow?” Cal asks hopefully where he’s started to rummage around in the bag he’s been carrying around lately. Says it’s a better place to put all the seed pods and priorite he’s been finding around Koboh. Merrin joked once that it was the perfect size to fit a fully grown bogling and he really just wanted to show it the scenery. Cal hadn’t denied it.

“Never?” Merrin suggests then laughs airily as she dodges one of the aforementioned seed pods Cal throws at her good-naturedly. BD-1 beeps his protest at the seed pod being treated like that, earning an apology from a suitably chastised Cal. “I am just saying, you’ve outgrown the ponchos, Cal. This style you’ve cultivated over the years is much better.”

“But they’re comfortable,” Cal complains, still rummaging.

…The bag isn’t that deep.

Mosey eyes him suspiciously even as she says, “I’ve got a couple’a ponchos you can have, Red. They were my pa’s, but I doubt he’d mind if you took ‘em off my hands. They’re good for the mountain trails since it gets cold up there. And they’ve been stored up all nice and clean.”

Cal flashes her a smile. “Thanks, Mosey, but no thanks. I’m all stocked up.” Everyone watches in horror as he pulls out another poncho. It’s not nearly as garish as the pink one, but it’s still ratty and smelly and Cal pulls it over his head with a bright, beaming grin. “See? Problem solved.”

“Problem not solved!” Greez shrieks, flinging the pink one away. “You brat! Are you kidding me right now?!”

“I have four more!” Cal declares proudly.

“No,” Merrin whispers, aghast.

Cal nods, his smile getting smug now. “Yes. A crate of them just sitting there. It looked like someone tried to set up camp and the oggdo took offense to it. You can take one, but you can’t take them all!”

“Merrin,” Greez says, voice low and serious. Cal looks at him, eyebrow raised in a challenge. The latero puts one set of hands on his hips and points at Cal. “Get him.”

Green magick flares but Cal is already running out the main door, cackling loudly as Merrin gives chase. The rest of them are left behind to stare at Cal’s bag still sitting on the ground.

“Do you really think he has four more?” Moran asks, clutching his drink to his chest. He’s looking a little pale.

“We could throw out the whole thing?” Ashe suggests. “He can collect more seeds later.”

“Doma would kill us for the priorite.”

“Kark, she would.”

Before any of them can make another suggestion, a little body dashes through, scoops the bag up to her chest and pauses, giving them all a good moment to really take in the sight of Kata looking at them all wide-eyed and innocent… wearing a smaller and cleaner poncho in her favorite shade of purple. BD jumps onto her back with a happy beep, and she grins brightly at them before she then – runs away, giggling.

Greez blinks once, twice, and then swears loudly.

“I knew it! I knew they were working together! Those, those brats!”

#cal kestis #greez dritus #nightsister merrin #jedi survivor #sw jfo #sw jfo fic #my writing

[kumoriyami-xiuzhen]

Hakuoki Drama CD - Shimabara Disturbance Track 2 English translation

Heya, I know this is late... but my eye problems continued until the symptoms got better last Tuesday, on April 2nd. Long story short, I had difficulties keeping my eyes physically open without them feeling irritated or hurting after 6pm, which really cut away my time to translate for the past two weeks as I normally translate in the evenings, which didn’t help when I was actively cutting back on my screen time while that happened. Overall, my symptoms seemed to have cleared up for the most part since I started using Hypochlorous acid as recommended by my optometrist and I have thankfully stopped needing to walk around with a damp towel everywhere for relief. 

Anyway, I decided to post these as soon as I finish them to make up for the post-less March... I’m about a quarter way through track 3 (it and track 4 are over 10min), but I already have 5 and 6 done so it hopefully won’t take too long? I’m really sorry bout that!

Also, for various reasons, I've decided not to tag the characters for the rest of this drama for the time being. I'll tag them a week after I post the last track... if I remember to. 

Anyway, enjoy! 

Hakuoki Drama CD - Shimabara Disturbance Track 2: How to use reward money

Translation by KumoriYami

(pacing footsteps)

Saito: There's no need to worry about this myself, I'll just ask Yukimura directly. Thinking this, I came to her room... 

But, how do I say this? Isn't it strange to suddenly ask “do you want a a woman’s kimono?” Or should I indirectly ask about what can be done to make her feel happy? No, but not only that there’s....

(door opens)

Saito: Ah! Yu-Yukimura! No, I wasn't doing anything. Anyway, can I have some of your time? There's something I wanted to tell you...

Saito: Nn, then, excuse me.

(door closes)

Saito: Yukimura, um, ermhm... What I'm going to say isn't important, no, not only is it a trivial matter that doesn't matter at all... Um.... 

(footsteps from outside)

Harada: Hey, Chizuru, you there?

(Door opens)

Harada: Fu... Sorry, looks like you already have a guest? 

Saito: No, it's fine, you have something to speak about?

Harada: Ah, yeah, just now, what was her name? That girl named Sen came to visit. I'm sorry, Saito, can you bring Chizuru to see her? I have to go on patrol next.

Saito: I understand. Yukimura, let’s go.

..................

Sen: Chizuru-chan, long time no see! But it actually hasn't been that long. I wanted to see Chizuru-chan quite a bit. The Shinsengumi haven't been bullying you, right? Are you okay?

Saito:....

Sen: Everyone's been treating you well? Really? You're not saying that because of this person next to you?

Saito: I’m sorry, I can’t leave.

Sen: I know that, I just wanted to hear her honest words.

Saito: Uh, hn....  

Sen: In any case, Chizuru-chan can't lie. I still remember when you came to Shimabara. Truly, you're really someone who shines the more you get polished! It was really trough after that time. There were a lot of people asking who that geisha was. Hey, would you like to come again? Kimigiku would also like to see you again, you can wear a beautiful kimono again!

Saito: A beautiful kimono... 

[recalling]

(Heisuke:  If I had a lot of money, I would give Chizuru a beautiful kimono. She was very happy!)

Saito: Sure enough, Yukimura, she...

Sen: Well, please think it about it! You're always welcome!... Now that I've seen Chizuru-can's smile, I should be going back soon. 

Saito: Ah, uh... is that okay?

Sen: Yes, although I am a bit reluctant to, I really just came to see her today. Next time, let's go out for tea and chat! See you, Chizuru-chan!

(Sen gets up[?])

Saito: Wait, it's dangerous for a woman to go/leave alone. I'll accompany you.

Sen:, No it's okay. I grew up and Kyoto and will be taking a safe road/route back. 

Saito: I have something I'd like to talk to you about. Could I please escort you? 

Sen: Something to say to me?  I understand. Then, let’s go. 

..............

(walking on a road)

Sen: How long will it be before you are all willing to let Chizuru-chan go/When will you be releasing Chizuru-chan?

Saito: That’s abrupt. 

Sen: She's confined at your headquarters from morning til night, day after day, and even though she's a young woman, she can't even dress up, She's obviously worried about her father's situation but can't go looking for him. She must be feeling very anxious.

Saito:.....

Sen: Do you understand how cruel you all are to her?

Saito; We have our own circumstances. 

Sen:....

Saito: But, what you say is understandable. 

Sen: Eh.

Saito: I did say that I wanted to speak to you. I just want Yukimura to be able to dress in a beautiful kimono/I want Yukimura to wear a beautiful kimono [can be interpreted either way]. Would it be possible to borrow a room at Shimabara? If she goes there, she’ll be able to act as a woman as she wishes to

Sen: Ah, Chizuru-chan will definitely be happy! Then, leave all the preparations to me! I'll bring out our most beautiful kimono! I also have to tell Kimigiku about this too!

Saito: No, you don't have to go to that extent. Just prepare a room...

Sen: Just escort me here. I have to go back and start preparing...!

Saito: Hey, wait... listen to what I have to say... 

(their voices fade)

Kazama: I see. It looks like this will be very interesting...

----------

My personal bias says that Saito never lets go of Chizuru cuz they get married. xD

#hakuoki #hakuouki #hakuoki drama cd #hakuoki drama translation #Saito Hajime #harada sanosuke #Yukimura Chizuru #suzuka sen #Sen-hime #Kazama Chikage

[elusivewildflower]

Just Another Case | Holland March x Reader

Pairings: Holland March x F! Reader

Summary: You and Holland have been partners for the last year, solving case after ridiculous case together. Even though you’ve been mistaken as a couple countless times while working, the two of you are simply close friends. You might have feelings for him, but you’re sure he doesn’t feel the same. That is, until one particular case comes along on your laundry day, where you’re down to your last piece of clean clothing---a dress and no underwear. 

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of sex, the case is about catching a husband cheating. Mostly turns out to be pretty sweet. 

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: It feels like it’s been forever since I’ve written or posted anything, but I hope I’ll be able to get back on track soon! Work and life has been pretty busy lately. I know in the movie Holland mentions that a “no-fault” law ended a lot of his cases like this, but let’s just say one pops up every now and then. (Because let’s be honest, even if I could divorce with no fault, I’d still like to have proof my spouse is cheating). Thank you to @ninjathrowingstork & another friend for beta-ing this for me! Based on the scene idea I had last week and the request I had sitting in my inbox by @wndawtch​.

You press your back against the wall in your kitchen, holding the phone to your ear as your fingers twirl the cord impatiently. The line rang once, twice, and then a third time before you cursed under your breath. If he hadn’t answered by the third ring, you knew he wasn’t going to. It rang two more times before you were greeted with the familiar message of Holland’s answering machine. 

“You have reached March & Co Investigations. This machine records messages. Wait for the tone and speak clearly.” 

The answering machine beeps and you begin speaking. 

“Holland, did you forget you’re supposed to be working today? We were scheduled to meet Mrs. Jenkins at noon and you never showed.” You paused, heaving a sigh. “I swear, if you’re fully dressed and asleep in the tub again—“

The other line picked up and Holland’s groggy voice reached your ears, cutting you off. “What’s so bad about sleeping in the tub?” 

“Aside from the chance of drowning?” You asked rhetorically before continuing, “because you think that sitting in a tub full of water washes both you and what you’re wearing. Which is so not true, by the way.” 

“Oh yeah, says who?” He retorted defiantly.

“I do—and probably a lot of other people if we asked.” You responded quickly, not even waiting for Holland to come up with a response before you began speaking once more. “Get yourself dried off and ready to go. I’ll pick you up in an hour so we can actually start working—I’ve got a lead.” 

Holland gave a grumble of agreement and you slammed the receiver back onto the base to hang up. Sometimes you couldn’t understand why you had agreed to be Holland’s partner over a year ago. He had a serious drinking problem and always seemed to get himself into trouble. On the other hand, he was also extremely intelligent—one of the best private investigator’s you had ever seen on his good days—and he was quite attractive. Throw in his sob story about being a single father to a teenage daughter who lost his wife in a house fire and you were hooked. 

Not that the two of you had ever crossed over the line of being business partners and friends aside from a few flirtatious remarks, but honestly you wouldn’t mind it. You had grown rather close to the young widower and his daughter, Holly, over the last year. Hell, when Holly started her period a few months ago, she called and told you first before mentioning it to her father. You spent more time at their rental home than at your own, and you honestly lost count of the times people had mistaken you for a couple when you were on a case.

You glanced up at the clock on the wall before heaving a sigh and pushing yourself from the wall you were leaning against to call Holland. There was enough time to start a load of laundry, but it wouldn’t finish drying before you had to leave. As you rounded up the hamper from your bedroom filled to the brim with dirty clothes, you cursed yourself for not waking up earlier in the morning—and also cursed your past self for not doing laundry sooner. You had donned your last piece of clean clothing this morning before meeting Mrs. Jenkins, which was a knee-length floral dress. Its color complimented your skin tone nicely, and the deeply cut neckline made your breasts look fantastic. It wasn't exactly what you'd wear on a normal day of work---unless the day consisted of trying to catch a man cheating on his wife. Which, technically you were, but today's lead included the address of his supposed mistress. You and Holland would simply need to do a bit of a stake out to see if you could catch Mrs. Jenkins' husband coming or going from the property, and the dress was definitely not needed.

Before you knew it, an hour had ticked by. You grabbed your purse, slid your heels back on, and locked the door behind you as you exited your house. You told Holland you’d pick him up in an hour, but you only lived a few streets away and he was never ready on time, so you didn’t care that you were late. Honestly, you weren’t the best with time management either, so you were thankful you had a partner that ran late. A few minutes later, and you were pulling into March's driveway, honking your horn to announce your arrival.

About ten minutes later, Holland finally emerges from his home, a cigarette hanging from his mouth. As he climbs into the passenger seat he glances over at you, doing a double take as he realizes what you’re wearing. “What bar or club are we going to?” He questions curiously.

You shake your head as you reverse out of his driveway. “We’re not going to a bar or club.” 

Holland’s brows furrowed in confusion as he ashes his cigarette out the window. “But you’re wearing the dress.” 

You should have known he’d recognize the dress. “I have the address to the alleged mistress, we don’t need to go to a bar. We’re gonna do a stake out.” You explained.

Holland still seemed confused, a frown forming on his face as he eyed you over. “What, do you have a hot date after this or something?” 

He was clearly not letting this go, and did he seem a bit upset at the thought of you having a hot date? You had to be imagining that. 

“No, no hot date. I just felt like wearing a dress,” You gave a shrug as you lied. After criticizing his method of laundry—the thought of sitting fully dressed in a tub still made you shudder—you didn’t feel like admitting that you didn’t have anything else clean. 

Holland must’ve believed you, because he stopped badgering you with questions about it. He did, however, start asking about the case. You spent the rest of the drive filling him in on the details he missed when he overslept the meeting you had with your client.

As you pulled off to the side of the road to park, your heart dropped to your stomach. Your client neglected to mention that the mistress’s house had a seven-foot tall fence all of the way around and a gated driveway. You could feel Holland’s eyes boring into the side of your head. Ignoring him, you grabbed the binoculars from the back seats and simply exited the car. You walked up to the gate at the driveway, double checking that you had the right address. Your shoulders slumped when you realized that you were at the correct address. This was going to make capturing photos for proof of his cheating more difficult. 

You heard the passenger side door slam shut as Holland joined you. “Well, this is great.” He deadpanned, placing his hands upon his hips as he surveyed the fence. 

You sighed, nodding your head in agreement. “Yep.” 

A moment of silence passed between you until Holland broke it with a click of his tongue. “Alright, come on. I’ve got an idea.” He ushered, moving to kneel down beside the fence.

Your brows furrowed as you watched him, unsure of what he was planning. 

He noticed your look of confusion and sighed, beckoning you closer. “Come on, I’m gonna lift you up there.” 

“What?” The question tumbled out of your lips before you realized it, your heart rate rising as fear coursed through you. Holland wasn’t exactly the strongest man in the world, and he tended to be clumsy. You trusted him with a lot of things, but being capable of not dropping you wasn’t one of them. Not to mention that you ran out of clean underwear this morning and were currently going commando under your dress. You swore to yourself that this was the last time you’d ever wait so long to wash clothes.

“Well, I don’t see you lifting me, and someone needs to be able to see over the fence.” He explained as if his idea made perfect sense. Which, in fairness, it did. Except for the two things you were currently worried about; Holland dropping you and seeing up your dress. 

You remained still for a few more moments, your feet refusing to move from where you stood as you mulled over your options—or lack thereof. 

Holland rolled his eyes at you as he grew impatient. “Oh, come on.” He beckoned you again, “before someone sees us!” 

Taking a deep breath, you finally agreed. “Fine,” you began, “But do not look up my dress, Holland.” You warned him sternly, pointing a finger at him. 

Holland looked insulted. “Why would I look up your dress?” 

You narrowed your eyes at him, your finger now wagging at him. “Because I know you.” 

Holland raised his hands in surrender, dropping his insulted act. “Alright, alright, I won’t look up your dress.” 

Appeased by his answer, you close the distance between you. Holland laces his fingers together, giving you a spot to place your foot. You hold onto his shoulder as you step into his hands, and he lifts you up as he moves to stand. He lifts you a bit too high too fast and you’re suddenly scrambling to grab hold of the fence so you don’t fall. 

“Jesus! Not that high!” You scold him as you struggle to find your balance. 

Holland mutters out an apology and lowers you slightly. 

Leaning yourself against the fence, you raise your binoculars to your eyes. You scan the windows of the house, starting with the first floor. Disappointment flooded your veins as you were coming up empty-handed, that is until you panned to the last window on the second floor. A nude woman was pressed against the window getting railed from behind. You couldn’t tell by who, but you assumed it was your client’s husband. You let out a gasp. Jesus Christ. That must be nice. Just as you opened your mouth to tell Holland what you had found, you heard his voice below you. 

“Holy fuck—You’re not wearing any underwear!” 

Holland’s words caused you to release your grip on the fence in a panic, snapping your attention towards him. You find him still staring up your dress in shock, his jaw dropped open. You reach out to swat at him, shouting his name in an annoyed tone. “I told you not to look!”

Your words seemed to shake Holland out of his stupor, but your swat only backfired on you. Holland tried to dodge your hand out of instinct, which only served to make him lose his balance and send the both of you toppling to the ground. It happened so quickly you don’t even remember falling, but you definitely felt the pain of the impact. Every part of your body ached, but it didn’t feel like you had broken or sprained anything, so that was good. Your head may have been pounding from smacking the ground, but it was better than your skull being cracked open by the sidewalk. You had missed that by just a few inches, you realized as you rolled onto your side. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you lift me,” you groaned out, looking over at Holland.

Clearly, you had taken the brunt of the fall, as Holland was already sitting up and staring at you. “Why aren’t you wearing any underwear?!” He asked incredulously, ignoring your previous comment.

“It’s laundry day and I didn’t have any clean!” You admitted.

Holland shook his head unbelievingly. “Jesus Christ, I need a cigarette…” He spoke as he reached into his jacket, pulling out his lighter and a cigarette just a moment later. After pulling the first drag, he regarded you once more. This time it seemed like he was checking you for any injuries, rather than staring at you like a deer in headlights. “I’m sorry for dropping you. Are you alright?” He asked sincerely, gesturing towards you with his hand.

You nodded and moved to sit up, another groan tumbled from your lips as your body ached in protest. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.” You assured him. You may wind up with several bruises and have a hard time getting out of bed tomorrow, but you’d survive. 

A comfortable silence fell between you once more as Holland smoked and you let the pounding in your head subside. After a few moments, Holland snuffed out his cigarette in the grass. “That’s why you’re wearing the dress,” he announced, having put together that you lied to him earlier. “You didn’t want to wear that, you just didn’t have anything else to wear today.” 

Your eyes snapped up from the grass to meet his as he broke the silence, but you didn’t bother giving him a response, your facial expression was enough. He was right and he knew it, you didn’t need to confirm it with words. 

“I may bathe in my clothes, but at least I always have clean underwear.” He spoke in a chastising tone that had you rolling your eyes. “So, did you see anything?” He asked after a moment, gesturing towards the binoculars that were lying on the grass. 

As you glanced at where he gestured, you remembered what you had witnessed right before Holland dropped you. “Yeah, I saw a naked woman being railed against her bedroom window.” You shrugged and continued speaking as Holland reached for the binoculars. “I couldn’t see by who, though, so we’ll just have to wait until he leaves.” 

Springing up to his feet, Holland tried his best to see over the fence, hoping to catch a glimpse of the action. It was no use, though, as he wasn’t tall enough to see over it unless he backed all of the way up into the street—and then he’d likely be hit by a car. He sighed defeatedly and turned back to you. “When does Mrs. Jenkins say her husband comes home after this?” 

You looked down at your watch, your eyes widening as you realized what time it was. 1:54 p.m. Mrs. Jenkins said her husband usually got home around 2:30 p.m. and you were about thirty minutes away from where she lived. As if on cue, you hear the sound of an engine starting up in the driveway. Your attention turns back to Holland, his blue eyes connecting with yours. “Right now.” You spoke hurriedly, rushing to get yourself up from the ground. Like the gentleman he is, Holland helped you to your feet and the two of you took off running towards your car. 

“Why is our timing always so terrible?” Holland asked exasperatedly as you ran. 

“I don’t know, but I blame you.” You replied, slamming the door shut behind you as you hopped into the car. 

Holland’s door slammed shut right after yours. “You blame me? Why?” 

You’re digging around in the backseat for your camera, not even looking at Holland as you respond. “Because you distract me,” you admit carelessly, not paying attention to the words that fall from your mouth until it’s too late. The car in the driveway is growing closer to the gate, and if it was your client’s husband that was leaving, you needed to capture a picture of it in order to be paid. As you return to your seat, fiddling with the camera to turn it on, you realize what you just said to Holland and your heart hammers in your chest. 

Holland shakes his head in disbelief. “I distract you? No, no, it’s you who distracts me.” 

Your brows furrow as you glance over at him . “How do I distract you?”

“Are you kidding me? Did you forget what happened not even fifteen minutes ago?” Holland gestures towards the spot the two of you were standing previously. “I just saw up your dress and you’re not wearing any fucking underwear! Do you know what that did to me?”

His question seemed rhetorical, or maybe you had just lost all function in your brain at the implication of his words. 

“And don’t even get me started on that dress. You look so god damn sexy in that, and I hate that you only wear it to lure married men into flirting with you for a case.” Holland admitted, only pausing long enough to suck in a breath of air before he continued. “I get so fucking jealous watching those men think they have a chance with you, and you don’t even notice!” Holland stares at you as he finishes, waiting for a response as your brain tries to wrap around what he just confessed. 

Your thoughts are running a mile a minute, trying to remember every time you’ve had to flirt with a married man for a case. Did you really not notice that Holland was jealous? Or did you just try to shrug it off because you didn’t believe he could ever feel that way for you? Your mouth suddenly feels dry at the realization, but eventually you speak. “I didn’t realize you felt that way about me….” 

“Of course I do, how couldn’t I?” Holland spoke as if he couldn’t believe you didn’t notice sooner. “You’re gorgeous, extremely smart,” he then gestured towards himself, “you put up with my bullshit, and you’re so good to Holly.” A small smile spread across his face as he spoke of his daughter. “She loves you, you know?”  

You returned his smile and nodded, leaning in closer to the center console. “Yeah, I know.” 

Holland closed the short distance between you, his face mere inches from yours as he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, hesitatingly whispering his confession. “And I love you, too.” 

Gazing into his cool blue eyes, you couldn’t help the blinding smile that grew on your face. “I love you, too, Holland.” You admitted before capturing his lips. Holland’s hand rose to your neck, gripping the back of it as he locked you in a passionate kiss. His tongue prodded against your lips for entrance, but the sound of a gate opening made him pull away. 

“Mrs. Jenkin’s husband, Mrs. Jenkin’s husband!” He cried out, pointing at the car that was pulling out of the driveway right in front of you.

“Oh, shit!” You exclaimed, pulling yourself away from Holland and quickly grabbing the camera from your lap. You raised it to your eye and managed to snap a few incriminating photos of the man who matched the description of your client’s husband driving away. 

You placed the camera back into the floor of the back seat and turned towards Holland with a grin. “Well, let’s go get paid.” 

Holland leaned over, gently grabbing your jaw and pulling your lips to meet his. “As soon as the check’s in the bank, I’m taking you on a date.” He promised, his thumb softly rubbing your cheek.

“I’m looking forward to it. I’ll even buy a new dress.” You spoke softly, nuzzling your nose against his before pressing a quick kiss to his lips. 

A smirk spread across Holland’s face. “Any chance you won’t be wearing any underwear then, too?” 

You scoff and swat at his chest with a laugh. “Holland!” You shout his name in a scolding tone, turning back to face the steering wheel as you turn the keys in the ignition. 

“Well, that’s not a no….” He trails off as you start the drive back to your client’s home, eliciting a giggle from you. 

#holland march #holland march fic #the nice guys fic #holland march x reader #the nice guys #ryan gosling fic #ryan gosling #myfics #requests #holland march fanfic

[3cremepie3]

Peppermint Mocha

. Synopsis - After striking it gold you end up becoming Nami’s assistant. Well, it turns out there are a lot of perks for “working for her”.

. Warnings - 18+, cursing, public sex, power advantages, body fluids, mentions of poverty and wealth

. A/n - First part of my OP series. Thank you for reading Luffy and a Nami Drabble are next! Please read them in order or you’ll be incredibly confused. There might be some grammar mistakes in here but idc.

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“Peppermint mocha latte two extra sugars and two extra creams, light on the ice.” Take my card it’s half off on Wednesdays with the promo.” The card was already laid on her desk ready for you to take. This gave her more time to stay wrapped up in her phone. She the social media manager was probably looking for new trends. 

You wanted so desperately to say Hi to her. Nami Swan one of your idols was right in front of you! She must’ve got you mixed up with someone else. But you happily marched down to the Dunkin in the building lobby and received her order. 

You walked through the vast hallways and you were almost back to her secluded office. Then a woman rushed out of the door in front of you. In her hands was a box full of office supplies. She dropped a ruler and you were quick to help her by picking it up. 

“Thank you.” She smiled at you. “The janitors always were the nicest. I’m only sad to leave y’all,” she frowned. “Are you getting a new job,” you inquired. “Yes, I have no other choice. I can’t handle her anymore she’s crazy.” Can’t handle who?” It was your first day at the company and there was already trouble. “You’re a beautiful girl so soon you’ll understand.” But please before you go give this note to Swan.”

You took the note from her still concerned but it was too late to worry about it she went down the flash elevators and by now she would be lost. Not like you had any time to worry either Nami was still waiting. “Here you go ma’am just as you asked.” 

You sat down the coffee and the note the mysterious woman wrote for you. “Thanks, Kalifa I need it since today’s a long ass day.” She sighed before finally looking up from the screen that captivated her. “Who are you and why are you in my office?” She looked you up and down wondering how she could even mistake you. “My bad sweetie I thought you were my assistant.” 

“It’s okay no problem,” you smiled. “If I’m not mistaken she left you this letter.” You pointed to the letter you left on Nami’s desk. “The god-forsaken letters I’ve got 4 of this month,” She sighed. 

She took a sip of her coffee while reading. “We’ll looks like I’m out of an assistant for the 4th time this year. That’s a record of mine,” she chuckled. Who in their right mind wouldn’t work for you?” Oh honey 24 others!” They always leave after realizing the extent of work that we do. They think it’s just sunshine and rainbows. Then the documents and endless coffee orders come.” 

“And im stuck with no two weeks notice.” Wow I’m sorry about that Miss that is so unprofessional. If I worked here under you it would be a dream come true! Your eyes lit up at the thought. “But you do work here other wise you wouldn’t be in my office.” 

“But I’m just a janitor that doesn’t count for much.” So you really want to work here huh,” She asked. “Yes it’s been a dream of mine forever I loved your guy's toys.” Well, you are already in my room now and I have no assistant.”

“Why don’t you just fill in until I can get another one?” But I’m not trained in that position I wouldn’t want to mess up.” Don’t worry about it I’ll teach you the ropes. Come on just say yes it’s more fun than cleaning after all these people who already have ocd anyways.” She finished up her coffee in between words giving you extra time to think about things. 

“Yes,” you squealed. “Okay then let’s go back downstairs then. My coffee order is wrong.” Oh no, I’m sorry,” you frowned. “It wasn’t your fault it was those idiots downstairs.” Nami stood up towering past you into a door in the corner of her office. It opened up to a second lobby this one was empty and adorned with wooden statues.

“So pretty!” You marveled while feeling the handcrafted piece. “Franky made those he’s an expert carpenter.” Wow, the Frankie! He’s an icon  I remember watching him on TV when I was younger.” 

“How old are you sweetheart you say that like it was a while ago?” You arrived past all the wood displays and into a private elevator. It was small and only big enough to fit about 3 people. It felt even more suffocating with Nami so close to you. 

Her perfume smelled nice like tangerine and tulips. “I’m 19 about to be 20,” you bragged. “Wow if only I was that young again,” Nami laughed. “Well, how old are you?” 

“Don’t you know it’s rude to ask a woman her age,” she scoffed. “Sorry ma’am.” I’m only joking I’m 40 honey about to be 41,” she groaned. “You don’t look a day over 20,” you gasped. “Haha don’t flatter me,” she blushed. She walked out of the elevator after it landed on the first floor. 

“It’s not flattery I’m serious,” you trailed after her. “Wow, we got here quick.” You were already approaching Dunkin. Nami speed walked ahead of you irritated about her coffee. “Camie.” She yelled out at a green-haired employee who was behind the counter. “How many times do I have to tell you liquid sugar.”

“I can’t even drink this without having to swirl it around because nothing dissolved.” You’re lucky I like you or I would fire you on the spot,” she spat. Nami had a temper on her that you didn’t want to cross. But she was hot when she was mad the way her eyebrows furrowed and her cheeks turned red was probably the closest face to the one she would make while degrading you. 

“Stop y/n,” you spoke aloud. “What was that,” Nami asked. “Nothing!” You straightened up god you were gay! “Really you look a little funny,” she teased. “I’m fine!” Okay if you say so. You know what Y/n let’s just go I’m tired of coffee because a certain someone always gets my order wrong.”

You heard the other women working at the cafe laugh at Nami’s joke. The green-haired girl smiled too embarrassingly. “Where are we going, Ma’am.” You asked following after the sound of Nami’s pumps. You were too distracted by the gold carvings along the marble floor to look up. And by the time you did you bumped into someone. 

“Are you alright honey?” You looked up to see no other than Nico Robin. “I-I I’m f-fine,” you blurted. “I’m sorry oh my god are you hurt anywhere?” I wouldn’t forgive myself if you were.” You checked for any scruffs on her. 

“I’m sure she’s fine Y/n,” Nami interrupted. “Nami’s correct I received no damage,” Robin agreed. “That’s good,” you huffed. “Is this one of your friends Nami?” She’s my new assistant starting today! Isn’t she just lovely?”

“Yes at first I thought she was a janitor.” You looked down at yourself humiliated that you forgot to take off your uniform. “Yeah, it’s a new policy my employees can wear whatever they please.” You sure it’s new,” Robin interjected. “Before I could’ve sworn I saw one of them wearing vibrating panties.”

Nami scoffed crossing her arms. “While that’s her business I couldn't do anything to stop her.” You could if you were the one controlling them.” The whole time they bickered you stood there in between the two of them. “Ahem,” you coughed. “I thought we were gonna leave.” 

“Oh yes let’s go Y/n maybe I’ll pick you up a pair of those panties since they’re a part of our uniform,” she smirked. Nami walked off and waved bye to Robin who gave you a warm smile back. “Eeek,” you squealed. “I just met Nico Robin!”

“I’m not getting the hype Y/n.” She’s one of the most important people in this company! She’s also one of the dreamiest,” you drooled. “I can’t disagree with those statements.” Nami rolled her eyes. You guys made it outside of the lobby now you stood waiting while she called for her car back from the valet. 

Her driver opened up the door for you both and you hoped in the back after her. “Where going to the mall drop us off at the side entrance,” she instructed. The driver shook his head and started off. You looked out the window of the unfamiliar area. You had of course heard of the MerryGo corporation but you had never set foot around the boogie area. 

Even with your Sunday best on people could still probably tell that you were an outsider. “Why did you want to work at our company Y/n?” Your guy's toys saved me when I was younger I want to spread that joy to other children.” 

“Aww, that’s so sweet.” Thanks, it was hard to find any work so I had to settle on being a janitor.” We are in high demand this year well at least you got promoted.” Yeah, I would’ve never expected this.”

“And another question. Are you a lesbian I got some vibes back when you talked about Robin?” You laughed at her randomness even though you could tell she was serious. “I’m sorry! It’s just that was sudden but no I’m Pansexual.” Oo so you like a bit everything,” she assumed. 

“Yeah pretty much!” Why wouldn’t I when there’s so much beauty in the world.” Tittes,” she responded. You both chuckled as she gave no context. “And pussy,” she added. “Even though you gave nothing I understand.” Women really are top tier.” 

After what felt like hours of talking about tits you arrived at the mall. “Let’s stop at Nordstrom first.” You walked over taking her purse to unburden her. “There’s no need for that.” I have to start acting like your assistant somehow.”

“I’ve done nothing so far.” Well then okay thanks for taking my bag those cross bodies do dig into your shoulder a bit.” I know that's why I use backpacks they’re immature but so cute.” Well, there’s some of them in Nordstrom maybe you’ll see something you like.” 

“I hope so,” you cheered. You guys walked into the store a sales assistant quickly followed after the both of you. “Hello is there anything you’re looking for in specific today?” Yes, we need form-fitting button-down tops.” Okay, right this way!” You followed after the lady through rows and rows of mediocre clothing. 

Nothing was catching your eye you had a peculiar style. A style-only thrift store with random selections would fuel. “What about this one Y/n? You can even wear it without a bra and it’ll still give you lift.” She held it up to your chest. “It’s cute.” You shifted around wanting to get out of the store. 

“You know I can tell when you’re lying right.” Her face dropped. “I’m sorry I just have a very different style from typical office wear.” Hmm okay, so what do you like?” You took this time to pull out your Pinterest. “If only I had an app like this when I was your age I would’ve saved so many fashion disasters.” 

“There’s a store I think you’d like it is across the street, however.” I don’t mind walking.” You were so excited since Nami had great fashion taste. Her tight business set and tall pumps gave her such a sexy secretary look. “Look both ways before you cross the street.” She held out her arm which blocked you from walking further. 

You must’ve been too busy staring at the way she strutted across the crosswalk because a car almost ended you. “Thank you I definitely was not paying attention.” God, please don’t tell me my assistant is an airhead.” I am not,” you pouted! You jogged across the remainder of the sidewalk. 

You and Nami arrived at the boutique she was talking about. The display windows were filled with intra-quit blouses that spilled off the tall mannequin figure. “Wow, it’s perfect!” I knew you’d like it,” she smiled. 

You walked in and explored like a child in a candy shop. “Y/n over here.” She called you to their formal wear section. “Pick up whatever you want I’ll be waiting in the dressing rooms for you,” she instructed. “Okay.” A sales clerk helped you further holding the large amount of shirts you picked up. 

Finally, once you were done you moved everything over to the dressing room. “Wow this is like all those movies,” you giggled. “What do you mean? Nami looked at you confused. “Like the type of dressing room in movies. Where the bride finds the dress that’s the one.” 

“Oh, I get it well welcome to luxury.” A woman stepped in with the both of you. “Hi I’m Perona I’ll be your seamstress for today.” Her cold hands ghosted over your arms spreading them out. You stood there for a couple minutes getting measured. You giggled every time she got too close you couldn’t help it. 

The only time someone had been this close to you was when you got kissed. “You’re so sensitive Y/n,” Nami teased. “I finished measuring it’s time to try out what you picked.” I picked up so many Ms. Nami can you pick for me?” Sure how about that skirt with the ruffles.” Perona handed you the skirt. At first, you were nervous to undress in front of them but they assured you that they had seen it all before. 

Luckily you had worn some decent panties today. “Cute panties I love the cherries,” Nami complimented. “Stop looking,” you blushed. She laughed a bit at your timidness. “You’re too cute sweetie now let’s see that skirt.” 

It was a perfect fit but one thing bothered you. “It’s like a belt so cute,” Nami pointed out. It was so short your ass almost hung out. But after twirling around in the mirror you did realize you looked amazing. 

“Is it too tight,” Perona asked? “No, it’s good.” I’m glad you’re such a cool boss Nami. Any other office place would fire me on the spot if I was wearing this.” There are pros to working for me,” she mentioned. Perona handed you some other skirts most of them being what Nami picked for you. 

You realized one thing. She liked to see you in skin-tight leather. You even got a matching body suit and jacket set. “I look like a biker.” Your hands traced up the zippers that went from your bust to your ass. “It’s so hot in all this leather,” you groaned. Nami got up and started towards you. “That’s why you have these.” Her hands unzipped your body suit. The breeze immediately hit you sending goose bumps up your spine.

“Biker chics are the hottest,” she joked. “And so are businesswomen,” you blurted. Nami was right in front of you her hands ghosting your waist. “Wanna know who’s hotter than a biker chic?” Sure.” A naked one,” she admitted. “Why don't I help you strip down, she offered. Her legs rubbed together ever so slightly awaiting your response. “Come on let the girls breathe,” she smirked. “Can you do it for me my hands are broken all of a sudden.” 

“Of course anything for you.” Her hand dragged down your stomach then it bunched up the remainder of the body suit. She pulled you closer to her so close that she could feel your rapid heartbeat. Your eyes darted anywhere but hers as she pulled your shirt up.

A hiss fell from your lips as both her hands wrapped around your shoulders to your back unloosing your bra strap revealing your tits on full display. “Fuck,” she mumbled. “I could take you right now if there wasn’t that woman and the ghost of nosy employees watching.” 

“Ugh I hate pda,” Perona groaned as she walked in. “If you have enough money to buy all this you have enough money for a damn hotel.” She was right and Nami knew so too but she was Nami. “Shut up bitch I’ll give you 5 thousand right now if you give us some alone time.” She stepped out of the room accepting Nami’s offer. 

“I need a taste of my new assistant.” Now you understood what Kalifa the frantic woman you met earlier was trying to relay to you. As soon as the door closed Nami began to palm at your tits. She massaged the soft mounds like they were freezing and needed to be warmed up despite how hot your body was becoming. You felt the need to strip from the other layer that held your heat. That being the panties she complimented earlier. A string of your wetness followed them to the floor.  

Her leg that was adorned with her nylon stockings went in between your thighs rubbing against your drooling pussy. “This is the best day ever,” you moaned. Nami’s lips wrapped around yours silencing your excited pleas. The kiss was hot and intoxicating enough for you to not realize that she backed you against the wall. You were sure to smudge the mirror with your body that now glistened in a layer of sweat. 

Your arms tugged at Nami’s blazer until you pulled it off. Her hands worked on her skirt and yours went to her tight polo pulling it over her head. You messed up her neat curls but she could care less. She had her new meal right in front of her. She had you someone who was untainted by the MerrryGo company. So she couldn't let you go. She kissed you again giggling into your mouth. 

The beef she had with Robin was mostly one-sided but she still couldn't help but to brag about this lay later. “What is so funny,” you asked. “The fact that Robin was right. Don't worry sweetie this time is so different I want to keep you.” And it seems like you need me.” She was right about that you were ready to pounce on her. She held your hand and led you to the couch she just watched you try clothes on. 

She patted her lap and you sat on it. Her hand wrapped around your throat knocking out any of the airflow that you barely had before because you were choked up by her beauty. “Wanna try something? As my assistant, you need to be adventurous.” Sure, you gulped”. Get on top of the couch and spread your legs.” You hesitated but she gave you a reassuring look. 

You did as you were told and she quickly followed you her mouth meeting your clit as the couch dipped at her weight. Even after the first stroke of her soft muscle, you felt like you could collapse. But you stayed grounded as you would never want this experience to end in a million years. One of her hands slipped from your waist and into her own underwear. She began to play with herself in time with the many moans you were letting out. 

“Ah that feels good,” you cried out. Her tongue inserted your fluttering hole that kept spurting out your arousal. “You taste so good, she mumbled. “I can eat you forever my sweet girl.” Her praise was definitely mending your ego as well. It had been so long since someone was this nice to you. She took care of you well not spilling a drop of your cream.

“I paid for this you can be as loud as you want.” She was right but you still could imagine what the employees were hearing. So your moans were held back. That was until she inserted a finger inside of your inviting entrance. You practically screamed at the sudden and calculated move. “Ms. Nami ahh that feels so good. To good fuck! You exclaimed as she moved faster. Her pretty face and hair were sure to be messy as she was so sloppy in pleasuring you. So was her pussy as she began to scissor herself focusing on her sweet spot. 

Her moans sent vibrations into you further bringing you closer to the edge. Your legs couldn't take it anymore you were going numb. Your back arched sending you down onto the seat of the couch. Nami’s mouth followed you not latching off. “So go damn hot.” You turned around admiring the sight of the woman that was about to come undone just from eating you. 

She looked up her eyes meeting yours. You could feel her smiling as she came undone wetting the cushion underneath her. Two of her fingers curved inside of you bumping against your sweet spot. Your eyes rolled in the back of your head from the pleasure. “Do I really feel that good?” Yes! You were quick to respond not having any more breath left to say anything. 

She knocked the air out of your lungs. And as you came you became a light-headed hyperventilating mess. Your eyes closed tightly together as you rode out your orgasm on her greedy tongue. Flashes of what Kalifa said went through your mind. But you couldn't afford to care after you just got the best head of your life. 

“Y/n you okay?” Yes, you exhaled.” Your head was banging as there was no blood flowing into it. Nami helped you to get redressed and you walked out of the dressing room. Employees stared at you both obviously fucked up girls. Perona even laughed as Nami paid for your items. You knew the store was a boutique but damn the clothes were expensive.

Not to mention the 5 grand Nami promised to pay her on top of everything. “Jesus.” You winced after seeing the total was 12 thousand dollars. “This is little money for me sweets Don't worry about it.” She swiped her black card and paid with no problem. Her arm was still around you helping to lead your shaky body. “Wanna pick up your actual uniform or do you want them sent to your house like the clothes.”

“What do you mean actual uniform?” The vibrating panties, she reminded you.” I thought that was just something Robin made up.” Nope, they are the real deal.” That and my peppermint mocha are something you'll be hearing about often.” 

#heartland #anime smut #3creampie3 #nami smut #nami x reader #straw hat nami #one piece nami #nami #nami swan #op nami #nami x y/n #nami x you #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #one peice smut #one peice #one piece strawhats #lesbian smut #wlw love #wlw ns/fw #wlw nsft #wlw smut #manga smut #one piece fanfiction #one piece fandom #wlw #wlw post #nami swan x reader #op smut #op imagines

[stevetonyweekly]

SteveTony Weekly - March 24 - Week 12

Happy Sunday, my friends! Check out this week’s five recs, and be sure to kudos and comment on the ones you enjoy! 

non functional requirements by lazywriter7

“Morning Tony.” Someone greets from close to the front row. Gwen, who’s waiting for her Macbook to complete its primeval, laborious booting up procedure, feels her shoulders sag even further down. God, not this shit again.

“Did your coffee machine explode again?”

“Implode, and no.” The lecturer – Tony – cracks a brief smile. The band t-shirt he’s got on is mostly just wrinkles, his hair flattened straight down the sides like it hasn’t been washed in a couple days. Really gives Gwen such an inspiring picture to look up to for her own prospective career in academia. “And just for that not-so-subtle commentary on my opening salvo today, I’m gonna teach this entire lecture using a metaphor.”

~

Gwen Stacy isn't having the greatest day, and that's before her System Designs Engineering professor starts explaining the material through the lens of his strained-sounding relationship. With his boyfriend in the audience.

arei’s thoughts: I really loved this. It’s outsider POV, and Steve is the ‘bad’ boyfriend in this, but they’re both trying--sometimes failing--to make things work. The way they lean into each other and learn from their mistakes is lovely. 

An Educational Experience (The Good Things Come To Those Who Wait Remix) by valdomarx 

Ults Tony has a nice day.

aka Tony talks Steve through sucking his cock.

arei’s thoughts: it’s no secret that I adore Ults and this one is so lovely, Steve is so grumpy and pining so damn bad if he’d get out of his own way, he could be SO HAPPY. And then it’s just hot. Check it out. 

take a long line by ShanaStoryteller

Steve knows that Tony Stark is going to be a problem from the first line in his file.

Designation: Alpha

arei’s thoughts: I love the a/b/o dynamics in this. The way that Steve kind of fumbled them on account of his coming from a different time, and the way Tony was so anxious to care for EVERYONE around him. The scene where he tries to feed Steve a sandwich is quite possibly the cutest thing I’ve read in months. 

Even the Score by Sineala 

After Tony risks his own life to save Steve from the deadly Bloodwash gas, he's in bad shape, and he needs immediate treatment. Thanks to the treatment, he doesn't quite remember what's going on, but he does remember that people have been trying to kill him and that he can't trust the government. Since the Secretary of Defense did try to murder both of them today, Steve can't exactly tell Tony he's wrong about either of those things -- but, unfortunately, Tony doesn't remember who Steve is. And, even more unfortunately, Steve taught Tony to fight.

arei’s thoughts: I love this fic. It’s a very simple plot and premise pulled from the comics but it’s just so well done, and I love seeing Tony competent and dangerous even without the suit. Sine’s characterization in this--on both Steve and Tony’s parts--is just so lovely and well done. 

pretty baited trap by Areiton

The first time Tony walks into the Trisk, he’s following Tiberius, his eyes downcast, a perfect five steps behind his Alpha. He’s wearing a suit, cut in traditional omega style, because he’s an asset, a part of the display of wealth and power as much as the car they arrived in and the expensive watch Ty is wearing, the deliberate slight of being late and the bottle of wine that hangs from three fingers, careless, like it’s not worth several thousand dollars.

It’s the same display Ty has put on a dozen and more times since they Bonded. The only thing that changes is the location, the Alpha that Ty is trying to impress.

Where Tony ends up. His role in the evening’s proceedings. Those are already determined. This is a business deal and he is the pretty baited trap.

arei’s thoughts: well, I wrote this one but. I’m adding it to the list because I kinda love it. It’s very soft, and a little dark, but the devotion that grows between Steve and Tony is…lovely. 

#stevetony weekly #steve rogers #tony stark #stevetony #stony #iron man #captain america #stevetony fic #stony fic #fic rec

[agentmmayy]

2023 monthly music rotation

it's been a hot minute since i've made one of these, but here are all my favorite songs from each month of 2023!

january:

one i wanna be with - trella: oh bop!!!!!!!!!!! this ENTIRE SONG just makes me so happy!!!!!!! it’s so full of love!!! every lyric hits but especially i can’t help but wish we met before we did.

february:

antiques - holden laurence: god the desperation in this makes me want to claw my chest open and rip my heart out. the beat fucks in this jaunty rhythm that’s such a juxtaposition to the haunting lyrics and vocals. then the bridge?????? i promise to be strong i promise to believe in love that lingers on i’ll see you in my dreams. I’M CALLING THE POLICE. this is a tess/joel song. not only because of how apocalyptic this feels (which is a whole other discussion) but also meet me in the space between all the words unsaid when we could not speak meet me i’ll be waiting for you there. thanks for coming to my ted talk.

march:

borderline - tove lo: HOT. listen. everything tove lo writes and sings is inherently sexy i don't make the rules. this one especially wtf!!!!!!

unrequited night - lily kershaw: i- please respect my privacy at this time. this is a masterpiece. immediately a song i listened to laying in bed staring up at the ceiling. VERY tlou coded. (but then again every song i listened to in feb/march and lbr this past year was) AND THE GASP AT THE END GETS ME EVERY TIME.

april:

flowers in my hair - calista garcia: sweet, slow, and syrupy. i love this song and how it feels like a breath of fresh air. it’s achingly romantic and has got me singing along and twirling my hair and kicking my feet. though, at the same time it’s so intimate i feel like i’m intruding. 

labor - paris paloma: the intensity of it still continues to blow my mind. it’s unapologetic and awful. it’s incredible. i felt every lyric in my gut. i don’t want to over explain it since i can’t do the song justice but it’s so brutally honest in describing and dismantling traditional roles placed upon women and girls. the entirety of it is like poking at a wound that never closes, a wound that’s been gaping and bleeding for centuries and it makes me so angry. the visceral reaction i had to the lyric ‘if we had a daughter’ girl i- ouuuuugh. i got sick to my stomach. i was screaming crying throwing up etc etc. anyway this song is a masterpiece. still haven’t recovered from it. also it’s a fucking bop. 

may:

‘i’m just learning how to make peace with feeling small’ ‘but i might drive off if it gets too hard’ ‘there’s always a sunset that i wanna run into’ ‘i’m searching but i’m not lost’ and my all time favorite lyric that put me on the floor when i heard it the first time- ‘i’m a growing tree a few missing leaves i can’t shelter you don’t sit under me’ HELLO????? 

vagabond - overcoats: THIS song. this song has been the one i played the most in may because one it’s an absolute banger and second of all it read me for filth and the lyrics are so beautifully crafted and honest and pure and delivered impeccably. it’s a sweet, slow melody and coupled with the lyrics it reached into the depths of my soul and pulled out everything i can’t say and put it into this song like.

fireworks - JOSEPH: now for ANOTHER song that read me for filth. lately i’ve been feeling this exact way since all my friends and people around me have reached certain milestones in life- such as getting married, settling down, etc- that i haven’t and i’m left even more alone and bereft. but THIS SONG said that’s okay!!!!!!!! this song understood!!!!!! it said i’m not alone feeling this way!!!!

every lyric absolutely sent me through the roof but these especially:  ‘all these long songs might be no good for me’ ‘how long will i wait to be happy all my friends ask me’ ‘what if i’m wrong wrong to think there’s more to this story’ ‘an act of faith even though it hurts to shut that door am i holding out forever?’ ‘am i headstrong or foolish every night waiting for lighting to strike whole you’ve got blue skies?’ and my favorite- ‘i wish i could just flip a switch and accept your kind of muted bliss’ WHAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! once again HOW did they put it into words!!!!!! this song has such a special place in my heart. i can’t tell you how many times i’ve not only listened to it but also screamed along and cried to it 

also, JOSEPH always creates the most compelling and just fun to listen to songs and this is no exception!!!!!!!!! the harmonies are delicious and the music dropping at certain points is incredible and the beat has me dancing around the room. filed right under beach music! 

moonlight - madison rose: i wore this song into the ground!!!!! AMAZING beat and vibe. liberating rejuvenating sexy etc etc.

june:

cowboy take me away - the chicks: me personally!!!!! my favorite version of cowboy take me away. i DO wanna touch the earth and break it in my hands but i ESPECIALLY wanna look at the horizon and not see a building standing tall!!!!!!!!! every summer is cowgirl summer but this song just turned the dial to the max. never have i ever wanted a cowgirl summer more.

july:

satellites - emi larraud: this one was interesting! VERY 80s themed. it's funky. it's powerful. it's just groovy.

august:

wicked game - ursine vulpine, annica: alright i'm a sucker for these intense ballads especially when they remind me of the 100 but seriously. it's sensuous. it's an experience. the vocals are out of this world.

pretty boy - LEON: of course i had to put a LEON song on here. while this isn't my favorite of hers it was just so nice to get a new song from her again. i felt like a wilting flower getting watered. to no one's surprise it's a bop and delivers lines that absolutely wreck me such as you can't outrun getting old, that hidden place where hope lives, well that's the last it goes. ma'am!!!

september:

moonburn - dani sylvia: feeling very seen rn thank you!!!!!!!! literally spongebob leaning against rock.jpg every time i listen. it's- ough. this song has layers and i am peeling them back like an onion. when does the healing start if you leave before daylight. saying SO much in one line!!!!!!! it's the inversion of the typical light vs dark trope for me! and the chorus is immaculate.

super graphic ultra modern girl - chappell roan: chappell hit it out of the park with her first album and THIS SONG SPECIFICALLY. the absolute journey @152glasslippers and i went on listening to this... especially at 22 seconds in. WHEW. super graphic ultra modern girl IS THAT GIRL!!!!!!! SHE IS THE MOMENT!!!!!

october:

honest mistake - bears den: screaming shaking crying throwing up etc etc. bears den always writes songs that lift me by my ankles and shake me until every humiliatingly private thought comes tumbling out in the lyrics of their songs. also i love how consistent they are with the aesthetics and formality of their songs. it's very soothing while ripping me up inside.

mars - noelle: listened to this 60 times in a day. you don't understand i found this song 10/17 and spotify stopped tracking 10/31 and it was my most listened to song of the year. it's dreamy. it's sweet. the vocals are stunning and the music is fantastic.

heart to heart - now more than ever: banger. when that beat dropped i was shook!!!!!!!!!! it's a very early 2000s emo vibe but also delightfully contemporary? the vibes are there. oh and the lyrics and the way they're sung is amazingly bittersweet.

november:

swimming pool - jack kane: one of my favorites of the whole year. if spotify didn't stop tracking before november this would have been my top song. it is 100000% a slow sad groove bop. every time i listen maybe not physically but spiritually i am girl at table.jpg. formally this song is delicious and lyrically it is devastating.

december:

scorpions - distance sprinter : okay this one might be a contender for top song. impeccable. there's crack in this. the beat is OUTSTANDING. i literally can't play this in the car if i'm driving because i will start dancing. the vibes are off the charts. at no point in this song do you expect what's next. the lyrics are heartbreaking and beautiful. there's so much i can say about this song but i am gnawing on the words it's just so good.

TOP SONGS OF THE YEAR: these have 5 stars. to me. 6 stars even.

antiques - holden laurence

unrequited night - lily kershaw

vagabond - overcoats

fireworks - JOSEPH

moonburn - dani sylvia

swimming pool - jack kane

scorpions - distance sprinter

#monthly music rotation #this is my true spotify wrapped #for further information: these are all songs i found in those months that were new songs to me! #they might not have been songs i listened to the most #just new songs that were my favorites out of the new ones i found #the top list are songs i LOVE. absolute bangers. 10/10 no notes #monthly music roundup #2023 in music