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burnyouwithacigarettelighter · 8 months

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HONEY, I’M HOME ─── jackson rippner ✧♤

ೃ⁀➷ “You are the knife I turn inside myself; that is love. That, my dear, is love.” — ‘Letters to Milena’, Franz Kafka

pairing. jackson rippner x assassin!reader

summary. jackson hires a prostitute the night before meeting his target. only thing is, you’re not a prostitute— you’re an assassin hired to kill him. but he catches your eye, and instead, you keep him for yourself.

warnings. swearing, creampie, p in v, unprotected sex, slight housewife kink, kidnapping, drugging, pretty toxic relationship lmao, somnophilia, dubcon, hate-sex kinda, guns, choking, stockholm syndrome, cervix fucking, jackson gets a taste of his own medicine basically😭, SMUT UNDER THE CUT!

word count. 6.1k

a/n. OKAY i know i said it was going into the direction of dom!reader but i got possessed and now,,, now we have this hate sex filth🫡

When Jackson comes to, the very first thing his mind registers in your perfume. It’s sweet and vanilla-y and entirely intoxicating, sending his mind whirling back to prehistoric days, childhood days, a vague mother figure he’d long forgotten about pressing sugar cookie dough onto a metal pan.

Instead, as Jackson’s eyes fluttered open and adjusted to the bright, warm lamp-light curling around him and the various furniture in the room, he sees you, sitting in front of him on the floor.

Your knees are pulled up and tucked under your chin, and it seems you’ve fallen asleep, your face peaceful and serene as soft inhales and exhales of breath leave you.

You look like a pure angel, dolled up in a silk lace dress and neat bows so pristinely Jackson swore he could see a halo resting above your soft locks, but he knows you’re someone who can kill — has killed.

Jackson had been staying in a motel, readying himself to meet the target he was stalking the next day — some politico's daughter, y’know, perfect blackmail material — when you’d knocked on his door, dressed in a skanky skintight dress and garter belt, promising some fun for a flimsy fifty.

Prostitution was illegal in this state, but Jackson had some money and time to kill — plus, if he didn’t get something now he’d probably fuck his target, which wasn’t really encouraged considering he could get attached, all that bullshit job professionalism. He wouldn’t, obviously, but his higher-ups didn’t think the same.

So he agreed; you looked stupid enough, and with that nice pair on you, those sweet curves, you were bound to be a good fuck. And you were definitely enough for him to handle— handle killing, he meant. It’d be easy: get you a little tipsy ‘cause it was his “kink” or some shit like that, kill you when you’re coming, dispose of your body, and meet the target in the morning.

But then you’d kissed him, hungry and desperate and rough, and totally, completely, slipping the pill tucked under your tongue down his throat.

Jackson realized immediately, his hands darting to the gun he had tucked in his belt, but you punched him in the stomach and the jaw before he could even undo the safety. And then he’d done it: he’d swallowed the drug, and the effects were instantaneous, the connection between his thoughts and his limbs losing focus, body sluggish like he was wading through water.

So suddenly had the situation had gone from him hiring a prostitute to getting fucking drugged by one, and he felt his composure slipping, the outrage burning in his lungs. Jackson thought himself to be a logical, well-thought out man who planned things to the tee, and this was not fucking following his plan.

“What did you - do t’ me?!” He spat, voice growing slurred, bent over and clutching his stomach.

“Mm,” you considered telling him, pursing your lips and watching him sway back and forth, “just a little something to calm you down. But, honey, I think you better sit down… it's not a mild drug.”

“Answer my fucking—“ Jackson started caustically, then felt that familiar pins and needles sensation appear in his arms, then spread to his legs, before finally falling to the floor.

“See?” You cooed, standing above him. You watched him struggle against the drug for a moment, before grinning and pulling him up off the floor onto the bed.

Jackson listlessly fought your touch, slowly thrashing and kicking at you; his limbs may have grown numb, but his inhibitions had not lowered whatsoever, nor his paranoia. Good paranoia, in this situation, just not so good that it kicked in before you shoved a paralytic down his throat.

You rolled your eyes, sitting down beside him and pushing his head onto your lap, digging your elbow into his chest to make him stay in place.

Jackson choked at the pressure, blinking rapidly. “Who th- the -- fuck are you?”

“I’m an assassin, honey. I’m gonna kill you — or, y’know, I’m supposed to kill you.” You beamed at him, “but I can’t do that, now can I? That’d be a waste of such a pretty face.”

Jackson’s brows knitted exasperatedly, mouth contorting to speak, but nothing came out. In fact, his mouth hadn’t been moving at all— his face had grown numb, now blankly staring up at you.

“There we go,” you said happily. “The drug’s all kicked in now, hasn't it? I’ll speak freely, ‘cause y’can’t answer me anymore, not even scream or cry.”

You sighed, your shoulders slumping like you were finally able to fucking relax, and began petting his hair before continuing. “You’re a naughty one, aren’t you? Stalking that politician’s daughter… were you gonna fuck her? Threaten her dad, have some fun, then kill them both?”

Jackson’s breathing grew more furious, eyes widening— or, they would’ve, if he could move. This was about his job, about the target, not just some fucking freak accident and a crazy prostitute.

You frowned, shaking your head. “You’ve gotta do more research on the people you blackmail, honey— Mr. Politican’ll do anything to keep his little princess safe. Even murder.”

You then got up, and Jackson watched you pull something out of your tights, unable to respond or protest or even fucking move, frozen still on the cheap motel mattress.

“But like I said, you’re too cute to die like that. I think I’ll keep you for myself.” You winked, before pricking him in the neck with the needle that was hidden in your tights.

His breath hitched, but there was no use: black quickly curled into the edges of his vision, and one second passed, then another, then he was out.

That brought him back to now, waking up with his arms handcuffed behind him and his legs tied roughly to a wooden chair. He rustled, pulling against the cuffs as quietly as possible, gaze still obsessively trained on your every micro-movement.

But it didn't matter: your eyes opened the moment you’d heard his breath catch and stutter, and you got up lightly, dreamily, like you were some figment of Jackson’s imagination rather than a psychopathic kidnapping assassin.

“Morning, honey,” you whispered, getting up off the floor, rubbing your eyes and yawning. But he didn’t respond, still pulling at his restraints, eyes thinned and focussed.

“Are you mad at me?” You whined with a frown, circling around his chair and playfully covering his eyes. “I’ll make it up to you, don’t worry. I’ll buy some cute lingerie, give you a little show… do you like lace? Or maybe leather?”

Jackson’s nostrils flared, growing irate and incredulous at your antics, and he snapped. “Do you really think you can keep me here? Make me play fucking house with you?” He shouted groggily, body still feeling the aftereffects of not one, but two, drugs.

You blinked numbly, hand finding his face, and you pressed his cheeks together, making him look up at you. “I won’t make you play house with me, Jackson. But it's the only thing you can do. You’re dead.”

Your tone had gone cold, using his real name instead of your pet-one, expression going blank and completely unfeeling at his words. Then, you fumbled for something on the wooden vanity beside you two before lifting it up to his face.

It read: TERRORIST GROUP LEADER’S REMAINS FOUND IN RED-EYE FLIGHT WRECK.

Jackson’s lips parted, feelings riddled half in shock and half in utter fury, gaze shaky as it flitted back and forth between you and the newspaper you were holding up. “I’m fucking—“

“Alive, I know. That’s kinda the point,” you finished his sentence with a chuckle, shaking your head like any of this was a joking matter. “When a plane goes down and catches fire, burning everybody, they won’t individually check who's who, honey. If there’s a name on the seat, there’s someone in it, and they’re dead… you’re as good as dead.”

Jackson’s eyebrows were still knit, but he suddenly stared straight ahead, listening to you silently and trying to make sure you were still too focussed on explaining theatrically to realize he was about to dislocate his thumb.

He could deal with the stool later — he just needed to get his arms free and escape. What with your grating voice and the fucking pronunciation of death you’d forced upon him, god, his fury was rising quickly, and he wanted nothing more right now than to fucking kill you.

You finished your explanation, peering deeply into his bright blue eyes, and you were about to wrap your arms around his neck and press him comfortingly to your chest when he successfully freed himself, and his hands shot out from behind him to strangle you.

His fingers curled around your neck extremely easily, tightening and contracting around the thing snugly. Jackson was seeing red, the anger accumulated from every little insane fucking thing you did to him bursting.

You struggled against him, your mouth opening and closing pitifully, leaning down into his grip— until your lips tilted upwards, a devilishly cheshire smile digging into your cheeks like it was an expression God never intended you to make.

Jackson only realized you’d taken his gun away from him when he felt the tip of the barrel kiss his temple, cold and clammy. He was still disoriented, and didn’t exactly comprehend all the facts ‘till they fucking punched him in the face. Or, in this case, threatened to shoot him point blank.

“L’mme - l’mme go, h’ney,” you whispered raspily, your eyes stuttering in their socket as he pressed deeper. Simultaneously, completely on instinct, you pressed the gun further into his skin.

“You’re too fucking weak to fire that gun,” he growled, digging his thumbs into the neat notch in the middle of your neck, his fingernails scratching bloody marks into your sensitive skin.

But you frowned weakly, and then Jackson heard that all familiar click, making him blanch. The strength in his hands didn’t falter, however— it got angrier, more desperate, like you wouldn’t automatically shoot him if he just translated his wrath into his grip.

“I d’nt- w’nna k-kill you,” you shook your head a bit, but both your threats remained the same: his hands making you go lightheaded, go blue, and the gun in yours making him sweat, the image of you splattering his brain against the wall clear as day.

Jackson felt your finger twitch, and he closed his eyes, grip going tense then faltering completely: if you shot him now, there was no point holding on. But you did the same— you thought he’d snap your neck right then and there, so you pulled away.

Just as quickly as you two had attacked one another, your resolves’ had crumbled, murderous intent clearing the room like someone had opened a window and let it all out. Silence filled it back up instead, a steady tension permeating with it, and it was fucking suffocating.

“What do you - want from me, exactly?” Jackson questioned first, several long moments later, words slow and collected. He’d try to calm himself and hide his anger away for later, because he now knew that you meant for him to meet only two ends here: forever with you, or forever dead— and neither were ends he was intending to have.

To escape, crawl under your nose and perhaps kill you along the way, he’d need to know the rules— play your little game. This cat and mouse mess could be done in a flash, and he fucking knew you had a weakness. He could feel it in your touch, how you gripped him, the lonely warble in your insane words.

Sure, you kidnapped him and were calling him honey, treating him like he was your plaything, but Jackson had always been good at reading people, even before he’d become an amalgamated mess of an assassin, terrorist and blackmailer: you needed someone in your life— be it a husband or a hostage.

You got down on one knee, looking up at him through your wet lashes, breathing still ragged. One of your hands took his own dislocated one, while the other fished through your silk dress pockets, pulling out a gold band ring identical to the one gleaming prettily on your left hand.

You didn’t answer his question saying for you to marry me or for you to love me— both things Jackson would expect you to say, especially with your oddly profound obsession with him (despite the fact he was positive you’d only known him for a few weeks at most.) No, you’d smiled, a lovely duchenne one, rosy-cheeked like a fucking schoolgirl confessing to her crush, not an assassin who’d kidnapped him, and said, “For you to be mine.”

Your hand curled around his dislocated thumb and quickly snapped it, cruel and rough but perfectly back in place, before you slipped the ring onto his finger shakily, and brought his hand up to your lips to press a kiss to his knuckles.

“You’re mine,” you repeated in a whisper, sounding every bit like a warning rather than a celebration.

ii.

After a few days of living with— or, more accurately, being held captive by you, Jackson thought he had you all figured out. It usually only took a few days for him and a target to become acquainted anyway; mutual acquaintance or not.

He found that the warmer he treated you, the more freedom he’d have. Like, after you slipped the ring on his finger, you undid the ropes tying his legs. A reward, you’d said, for accepting your… unity.

But you still switched out the clinky metal cuffs for zip ties. “I can’t have you doing that nifty little thumb trick anymore, can I?” you explained. “But I still want you to walk around. Take a tour of the rest of your life, honey.”

Then, you told him you had to go to work — to which Jackson rolled his eyes, considering assassination wasn’t exactly what he’d call work, though, he would also have to call himself a hypocrite — and left. Jackson wasn’t shy about roaming about the house, especially to look for a fucking escape, but he was firstly confronted with the sheer size of the place you’d locked him in.

Where he’d first waken up was the master bedroom, long and wide with a king poster bed and canopy, a pair of couples vanities side by side, two walk-in closets and one large ensuite. The rest of the house was the same, being two stories tall and terribly extensive: Jackson ran out of fingers on his hands to count how many rooms were in it.

By the time he’d combed through the entire house — discovering a measly two possible escape routes in the process — it was dark outside, and you entered through a front door Jackson couldn’t find for the fucking life of him.

It was appalling, firstly how spontaneous and carefree you were whilst simultaneously thinking of everything that could go wrong, and secondly, how up to par your skills were to his. He wasn’t one to gloat, but he knew just as well as his coworkers that he was a large step above the rest— and it seemed you were, too, the only equal he’d encountered in his line of work… and the only person who’d bested him.

“Honey, I’m home!” You sing-songed in the hallway, poking your head into each and every room for Jackson’s familiar form.

Jackson had settled back in the master bedroom, sitting on the very chair you’d untied him from that morning, and when you finally found him you cooed. “Aw, baby, you don’t hafta’ stay here all day.” You said, lifting his chin to look up at you.

Jackson grit his teeth, his temper suddenly getting the best of him, and he spat at you. But the effect didn't work nearly as well as intended: you didn’t even wince, merely blinking and bringing two fingers to your cheek and wiping the slick off. You pouted at him for a second, made your eyes real big and pitiful, before kissing him on the cheek… and shoving your spit-slicked fingers into his mouth, making him gag.

It looked like you were enjoying his suffering, before pulling away a moment later. “Well, no matter,” you said, brushing his actions off and regaining your happy mood. “I know you weren’t really here all day, honey.”

Jackson’s lips parted, eyes thinning suspiciously. “What the fuck are you—“

You suddenly pulled out your phone, showing camera angles from all throughout the house… and more startlingly, previous footage of him, scouring the house’s windows and poking through the various furniture and rooms earlier in the day. “You are quite the curious cat.”

“You have a camera?” He asked indignantly. Honestly, he should’ve expected it: it’s like, what do you get when you have a captive itching to escape and an obsessive, head-over-heels captor with plenty of money on her hands?

“Several,” you preened, “so don’t bother escaping.”

Then, you hooked your arm into his and dragged him to one of the (many, many) dining rooms.

“Now, I’ve never exactly had a hostage before,” you offered, pushing him into one of your cushy walnut dining chairs, “so I just realized you haven’t eaten. God, I’m so sorry, honey, you must be starving.”

With that, you ducked into the large kitchen a room away, and then returned holding a steaming plate of something, setting the dish down in front of him. “It’s not exactly, y’know, fine dining,” you said, picking up the spoon hidden in the food and scooping up some peas, “but it’s home-cooked. Not my home cooking, obviously, it is -- was, a target’s. I had a plate earlier, don’t worry, it’s good.”

Jackson stared at you, mind spinning with the information you were nonchalantly throwing at him: you were feeding him, your hand holding the cutlery, his mouth around it like he was fucking six, and the person who had made this food was dead, having had their throat slit or something.

But there was another thing in Jackson’s mind, a tiny, weak voice within him that told him to just shut the hell up and eat the damn food. His survival instinct, probably, but then it went on to think that you weren’t that bad, feeding him and keeping him safe from the police in this nice, grand house— and Jackson squished the voice. No fucking way in hell was he experiencing early stage stockholm syndrome.

At his reluctance, you frowned, and forced the spoonful in his mouth. “Eat,” you scolded, and fed him till the whole plate was finished.

He ate, of course, not because of the little bitch voice in his head, but because of the fact that he actually was really fucking hungry. The gesture seemed to warm your heart, for some fucked up reason, and you later sat in the livingroom with him and loosened his zipties.

There was a brief moment, however, that Jackson felt even an iota of fear: when his hands were slightly free, he immediately reached to grab you— he was taller, stronger, and could certainly defeat you in mere moments.

But your sneaky fingers tightened his restraints at the drop of a hat, your head butting his jaw so he fell back on the couch. “Try anything,” you warned, tone suddenly dark, “and I will break your fucking wrist.”

At his tentative, jaw slightly dropped, shaky nod, a cold sweat beaming down from his temple, you dissolved into a fit of laughter at his expression and undid his ties once more. This time, your hand held his in an intimate death grip, thumb curled sweetly around the wrist, that warning still ringing in his head.

He was learning how to play the game, though. His captor’s behavior. What you liked, what you didn’t. The extent of your mercy.

Jackson cleared his throat, searching for a question that might make you open up. “…What’s your name, anyway?” Yes, he didn’t even know your fucking name, and he doubted that the tacky prostitute name you’d given him initially was your real one.

You looked up at him, surprised he’d speak first, nonetheless to know more about you. So, you indulged, and told him your name, things you liked, didn’t like, your hobbies… all normal people stuff— y’know, first date stuff.

“I keep forgetting you don’t know a thing about me,” you confessed, leaning your head on his stiff figure, “‘cause I’ve known you for a very long time.”

Jackson’s breath hitched. “How so?” he said, trying not to give away his eagerness; he was going through all the steps he did when first meeting a target, like being kind and sweet, respectful and attentive, really buttering them up and coaxing information from them, before going in for the kill. In Jackson’s current case, the “kill” was a kiss.

It’d be something chaste, nervous, like he was unwittingly slipping into your trap and couldn’t help the warmth bubbling within him toward you, so you would fall into his; hook, line, and sinker… and maybe completely undo his zipties. He’d have to lay low for a few days, obviously, and build up that obsessive trust of yours, before going in for the literal kill.

But then again, Jackson, with that delirious little ego of his, kept forgetting your skills were up to par with his, and you were the first and only person to ever fucking best him.

You grinned thinly, knowing exact what he was doing, noticed the pattern his words went in, trying to shepherd the conversation to get the answers he wanted, and you pulled away from him. “I’ll tell you another day, honey. M’gonna go to bed,” you whispered sleepily, redoing his zipties. “Join me. I don’t like it when you tire yourself out.”

And so you left, and Jackson watched your hips sway, legs carrying you down the long hallway into the master bedroom. As soon as you were out of direct view, he sucked in a sharp breath, seething angrily.

Fuck, he thought, the realization of his predicament settling within in him at last. He’d always been told this: if you didn’t believe you could escape your situation within the first day, you would never escape at all. He thought it a silly mantra, because he’d always devised an escape plan after thinking on it for a few long moments.

Never did he think he’d find himself in a situation where that actually fucking applied, never did he think he’d meet his equal, and never in his entire, terrorizing existence, did he think he’d be helpless.

But Jackson had to persevere. Had to. He had not survived every terrible incident thrown at him in his tired lifetime, just to accept this. And so, he went to bed with you, the zipties rubbing his pale skin raw, and he watched the shadows on the roof shift with every hour that passed.

He did not sleep, certainly not with you by his side, and though it looked like it, you did not either. It was the paranoia of two terribly similar people; gaze dancing in the dark and never finding each others, waiting for the moment one of you snapped and you had to attack or defend.

The next day, and the next day after that, he went to bed beside you. Just like that, turned into weeks turned into months turned into seasons changing, and the zipties became cloth became your hand holding his.

It was a culmination of feigned loving, fake vulnerability, and pretending he’d gotten Stockholm syndrome that got him to this point. Every “honey, i’m home,” or kiss or hug or pet-name you stabbed into him, he returned with a “welcome home, honey”, a peck on the cheek, a hand holding yours, his venomous tone switched like a light into something sweet, soft.

One night, with his newly ziptie-free arms wrapping around you, your back nestling sweetly against his torso, he has to remind himself that it is not real. None of it was real: he was not your husband, you were not his wife, you did not love each other, you were not normal fucking people— you were the captive and the captor.

Jackson had to remind himself he didn’t actually love you, because that night he thought: if you used him, he would use you. He would take you whenever he wanted, like how you used him. A man has needs, he thought, and being trapped in this house with you meant those needs could be met.

It reminded him of when you first met— not the kidnapping part, of course, but of the kissing and the touching, your tits pressing softly against his chest, his hands following the swell of your ass.

With a start, he realized he’d had some kind of unintentional celibacy enacted upon him: he couldn’t fuck anyone other than you, obviously, having been trapped in that house, but he never entertained the idea of fucking you because he hated you. You don’t fuck the bitch you’re planning to kill any day now.

But your warm body against his awoke something in him, his forced celibacy unable to survive against the pure lust he felt filling him now. You were beautiful, undeniably, with pliant thighs and delicate curves he could see himself getting between animalistically, roughly, a kind of morbid sexual revenge against your captivity of him. It helped entirely that this was the most vulnerable he’d seen you, completely without any weapons, curled warmly into his side.

After studying your breathing for a few seconds, ensuring you were still asleep, Jackson carefully slipped away from you to kneel in front of you in the middle of the bed. He admired your night getup: those silk dresses you adored to wear at home, and absolutely no underwear.

He then pried your soft thighs open slightly, dipping his head between them and losing himself in the sweet scent of your cunt, before chancing a stripe up to your clit. He flattened his tongue, wanting to collect your taste on it completely, and you merely sighed, turning over slightly and widening your legs in your sleep, like you somehow knew what he was doing and wanted it.

He pressed his mouth up to your cunt fully now, his nose hitting your mound as he devoured you, tongue filling every crevice and fold you had like he was starving. Your small whimpers and breathy sighs grew louder now, more frequent, and then Jackson suddenly pulled away, satisfied with how he readied your hole.

Jackson shimmed himself out of his boxer shorts, a pair with silly little hearts he’d never seriously buy for himself— you bought them, as soon as you’d captured him, clearly having fun with the utter control you could display on him, down to his fucking undergarments.

He shook himself slightly, refocussing on the matter at hand: fucking into your glistening cunt. There was something oddly empowering about doing this to you when you couldn’t protest, regaining some control over his own fucking life by terrorizing yours.

But he wasn’t sure you’d fucking care anyway: he knew you liked to peek around the corner when he was showering, “accidentally” walking in when he was in the middle of changing, not-so subtly bending down and pressing your ass to his crotch.

He sighed slightly, rubbing his hand up and down on his hard length in the dark, before lining it up with your entrance. Jackson muffled the groan that curdled in his throat with his large hand, breathing shakily and finally pushing past your slick folds. You were soaking, and he didn’t know if it was because of his previous foreplay or if you were just naturally like this, all horny because he slept beside you at night. He wouldn’t put it past you if that was the case: your obsession with him was clear in every single way.

You made a noise in your sleep, and Jackson froze, hands instinctively coming up to press lightly against your throat — an unconscious thing on his part, formed when his hands had been zip tied and the only thing he could do was choke you, unable to grip any weapon properly. But you didn’t wake up; your face merely screwed together, before smoothing out and returning to blissful unconsciousness.

Jackson let out a sigh of pleasure and relief, your walls clenching around his pulsing cock. He gripped the sheets beside your head and began thrusting in and out of you: at first gently, afraid to wake you up, but as the minutes dripped past, Jackson grew desperate, fucking into your cunt roughly. He wanted to abuse your tight little pussy, stretch you wide open and take you for everything you had.

“Fuck,” he grunted under his breath, snapping his hips harder against yours, “Fuck!”

His exclamation of sexual satisfaction startled you awake, but he didn’t notice how your eyes moved behind your eyelids, too focussed on pounding his rock-hard cock into you. For all the insanity and behavioral issues God gave you, he certainly made up for it in the way he crafted your cunt: extremely warm and easily wet, a sticky hole that sucked him in but was still cramped, like it was begging him to force your walls open.

“Honey?” you murmured foggily, wrapping your arms around his neck. You were about to speak again, when Jackson suddenly found your g-spot, and rammed continually into it, making a filthy mewl leave your lips.

“Fuck, you woke up?” Jackson cursed, looking at you for the first time. His thrusts were unrelenting, though, now not caring if you’d woken up and just wanting to feel your hole squeeze around him again.

“Jackson, I was - sleeping,” you squeaked out, hands moving to his back and digging your nails into the skin.

“That’s kinda the point,” Jackson mocked, tone sarcastic and peeved like you were interrupting him. “And don’t fucking fight it,” he warned angrily, hand leaving the mattress and roughly squeezing one of your tits through the fabric of your nightdress, “‘cause I’m not stopping ‘till I come.”

You pouted fake-sadly at his words, but your back arching gave you away, keening when he kneaded your tit too meanly and made a shock of pain run up your body. “Feels so good,” you grinned sweatily, but he just rolled his eyes.

“Shut up,” he sighed, throwing his head back, “didn’t fucking ask what you thought.”

He pushed your face to the side so he was looking at your jaw, more content with treating you like just some hole, but you didn’t care: he, your darling, was fucking you. He wanted you so bad he fucked you when you weren’t even awake. God, you could’ve kissed him right then and there, but he probably would’ve hit you. (Not that you would mind… but you wanted your honey to take control, have it his way for a bit.)

Jackson rutted into you fast and selfish, your eyes rolling to the back of your head at the violent way he fucked you: your sick pleasure came at the expense of your weeping cunt, which was trembling in the stinging pain he was inflicting, cockhead stretching you wide.

Then, Jackson’s hands slid down to your hips, so he could shove his cock deeper into your cunt, pressing his weight so heavily onto your chest you could barely breathe. He groaned; you were clearly affected by the action, bearing down on his cock suddenly, and he reveled in the ecstacy.

He fucked you slightly and slower, and you only realized what he’d been doing when he leaned down to get a better angle, bullying the head of his cock against your cervix: he was trying to fuck into you further, push his dick so close, so snug against your womb that there was no doubt in hell his load would impregnate you. His actions were dictated not by any sense of reason, but by a crude, carnal desire, wanting nothing more but to make you scream.

And you did scream alright, a breathy, brutal scream; a mix of whimpering pain at the way his head pushed against you, and of shameful, drooling pleasure, his delicious length making you feel fucking bloated, you were so full.

One of Jackson’s hands reached up to your head to pull your hair, making you whine at the pain of the tug, and he growled out a string of curse words, before thrusting his cock so angrily it was like a punishment, surely bruising your cervix, and releasing his thick load deep inside. His come flooded your cunt, pumping you full of his salty cream, fucking you still.

Jackson then panted raggedly, feeling your gummy walls tense at the pain of him pulling out, flopping down beside you. “Does it hurt?” he asked you absently, pulling his boxer shorts back up to his hips.

You bit your lip as you clenched your thighs together, whining slightly at the pain blooming deep within your abused cunt, and at the loss of pleasure— you hadn’t come after all, Jackson being entirely selfish in his fucking. “Uh-huh,” you murmured weakly, feeling the strength in your body leave you completely. “You’re a mean one, honey.”

“Good,” Jackson said, chuckling darkly. It was the first laugh you’d heard rumble out of him the entire time you’d held him captive, and you drank it in: it was pleasant and breezy, like cold water on a hot day. It was certainly out of place, such a gleeful laugh after savagely fucking you, but you welcomed it anyway.

Jackson suddenly grabbed you by the waist, pulling you flush to his chest. “M’gonna use your hole whenever I want, and you’re gonna take my cock no matter what, ‘till you’re begging me to stop,” he growled in your ear, making goosebumps break out on your clammy skin. “Least you can do for fuckin’ kidnapping me, you psychotic bitch.”

“Oh,” you purred, batting your lashes up at him, “it’d be my pleasure to be your fucktoy.”

Jackson grinned, at you, for you, and you thought to yourself that kidnapping him was the best thing you ever fucking did.

iii.

Somewhere, muddled between you kidnapping him, the two of you almost killing eachother, and him fucking you dumb, Jackson caved, and he started to believe he actually loved you. His mind didn’t have any qualms accepting that you were his new life— living in your house, only knowing you, and only ever talking to you.

Maybe it was stockholm syndrome, or those delicious fantasies you’d whisper in his ear at night (“Y’know, honey, it’s really you who should be saying you’re home. What do you think, huh? You coming home from a long day of work to me, in my panties and an apron, no bra and a sweet, home-cooked meal on the table. Dessert’ll be, of course, me,”) or maybe it was just you.

You, despite your terrible job and seriously obvious insanity, being the epitome of fuckable: horny when he was, a talented, needy mouth, able to take anything he gave you to while always going back to being tight as fuck, and intensely eager to have him.

You, who controlled his life, and he, who controlled you. The way you treated each other was probably illegal somewhere, but in that house not even the fucking law mattered. (You still remember when Jackson got his gun back, and he teased your clit with the cold tip till you creamed down the barrel… a terribly memorable story that always made you groan.)

Jackson was extremely well aware that there was something strange about your relationship, and not just the fact it occurred in the strangest way possible, but that he was essentially giving up to you— losing his inhibitions, at least against you. Something about… putting his well being in your hands. His needs. His wants. His life. Spending the rest of his life with you; in this house, accepting life and no escape.

But still, for a man like Jackson, who had long since accepted that he wasn’t cut out for a life of normalcy, a life of love, this certainly wasn’t a bad way of living. He had a house nicer than anything he’d ever lived in, didn’t have to work, could do whatever he wanted all day, and got to pound his cock into your perfect little pussy every single night.

#wowee this has a lot of words and a lot of warnings #this is filthy i apologize #cillian murphy smut #jackson rippner smut #jackson rippner x reader #jackson rippner x reader smut #red eye #jackson rippner

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strwbrythoughts · 3 months

Text

no stopping a man in love | alhaitham

In which the traveler and Paimon catches Alhaitham indulging in something unexpected.

A/N: I might as well make this whole blog dedicated to Alhaitham because man's got my heart in a chokehold :(

Divider by @/osqrie

The House of Daena was filled with the sounds of pages turned over and the quick footsteps of the students flitting from one bookcase to another. Furrowed eyebrows and downturned lips decorated each of their faces. The librarian seemed stressed out to navigate the flurry of students and assist them in finding books. Even a stranger could tell the obvious; examination season was right around the corner.

Alhaitham, the ex-Acting Grand Sage and current Scribe of the Akademiya, had his eyes glued onto his surroundings. Though his expression remained neutral, he couldn't deny the feeling of annoyance building up inside him. The library was way too noisy to be called one. It was a good thing that he was enjoying his read so far. Though, the choice of reading fiction was something that not a lot of people would expect from him.

Yes, he had a book titled "The Genius Falls in Love!" nestled in his hands.

He didn't really catch the eye of anyone. After all, it wasn't weird that the Scribe would spend his day in the library instead of his office. His work hours were long but he never really complied to them. That was something that the students were mighty jealous of. What they didn't know, however, was that his work was always submitted on time with the highest quality. A trait that most of them could only hope to achieve.

Alhaitham put on his noise-cancelling earphones. His eyes relaxed slightly as he could focus better on the book in his hand. He was already on chapter 22. An impressive amount of reading, given that he only received the book that morning.

His body rested fully onto the chair he sat on. He closed his eyes, remembering the sweet smile his wife gave him as she handed him the book.

'Here, honey!' she exclaimed, shoving a book into his hands. 'If you miss me at work, read this book I wrote! And tell me how it went, yeah?'

From the moment he stepped out of their shared house, he flipped the book open. 'Ridiculous,' he thought to himself. 'I always miss you when you're not by my side.'

And so off he went. He finished all the work he deemed urgent enough on that day, before immediately going back to reading. It was quite the comical sight, really. The stoic genius reading a fictional book? A romance, at that? Impossible. Utterly ridiculous.

And yet, here he was.

The work day passed by so quickly when he spent it reading. Before he knew it, the librarian came over to his spot and told him that the library was closing. Alhaitham immediately got up and left to go home.

The walk back was quiet and peaceful enough. The mere sight of his wife's face as she greeted him at the door was enough to make a smile appear on his face, no matter how slight.

"Honey! How was work today? What did you eat during lunch? Did you have time to read my book?" It was expected that his wife would bombard him with questions the moment he came home. However, she was special in every way. For instance, he would always answer each question she had calmly, no matter how frequent or stupid they may be.

"I'm back. Work was completed like usual today. I ate the lunch you prepared for me, and I'm halfway through your book, my dear."

His wife giggled at the thought of her husband taking some time out of his busy day to read her work. What she didn't know was that his day was scheduled around her, and never around anything else.

Until the traveler and Paimon had some interesting news to bring to her.

"Traveler, look! Is Alhaitham reading...a romance?"

Paimon's voice bounced off the walls of the House of Daena. She had successfully captured the eyes of many students, causing the traveler to put their hand over their head. Perhaps to block a headache induced by her lack of realisation that they were in the library.

Paimon's hands flew over her mouth right after the words were uttered. Her eyes seemed apologetic enough, darting over to the traveler as a silent apology. The traveler merely shot her an awkward smile.

It was a good thing that Alhaitham himself did not pay them any mind. The way his ears perked up slightly showed that he indeed heard Paimon, but perhaps chose to ignore them. However, the eyes glued to his person was quite bothersome, even for someone as stoic as him.

He shut the book in his hands quite loudly, hinting his irritation at Paimon. She only gulped and shot a panicked expression at the traveler, who deadpanned at her. The both of them stood still as they heard Alhaitham's footsteps approach them. He was getting closer and closer with each thud of his footsteps.

"I would appreciate if you did not point out whatever business unrelated to you." His voice was calm, just like his expression. His eyes told a different story all together. The traveler's flying companion could only apologise repeatedly, while the traveler shot him an apologetic smile.

After a few seconds of awkward silence between the trio, the Scribe walked away from the both of them. His right hand carried the romance book he was reading quite delicately, as if it was his most precious treasure. And it truly was.

Anything related to his wife was a treasure to him, and he would never forgive himself if he failed to appreciate even the simplest things about her.

"...and that was it! He seemed really annoyed that the Akademiya students were looking at him curiously." Paimon ended her story to Alhaitham's wife. She merely chuckled at the tale.

"Of course he was. He dislikes people getting into his business after all."

"Are you sure he isn't acting like that because he's embarrassed about getting caught reading something so...unexpected, of him?" The traveler furrowed their eyebrows as their companion asked such question with no hesitation. She really needed to learn to read the room sometimes.

Before she could answer, Alhaitham embraced his wife from behind. His eyes were calm, as if having his wife in his arms was all it took to make him feel tranquil.

"Do you really think I'd be reading such book in public if I were to be 'embarrassed' about it? Moreover, how could my lovely wife ever make me feel embarrassed?"

That was more than enough of an answer for the traveler and Paimon. They smiled sweetly at the response. The smiles were short lived, however, as Alhaitham sent them both out of his house, wanting to be alone with his wife.

Ah, well. There's no stopping a man in love, is there?

Thank you for reading! <3

#female reader #alhaitham #al haitham #alhaitham x reader #al haitham x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #berry writes

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javierpena-inatacvest · 5 months

Text

Plaid Pajama Morning

Summary: A sleepy Sunday morning with you and Javi in bed

Paring: Husband!Javi x Wife!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 1K (She's just a baby)

Warnings: Allusions to smut, Javi being a cute lil sleepyhead, reader wears Javi's shirt, sweet fluffy adorableness 🥹

A/N: Shoutout to my dear @endlessthxxghts for letting me harass them with the thought of what Javi would look like with nothing but some good ole pajama pants and messy bedhead- now here we are 🫠 Idk why the thought of this man in pajama pants has me so feral but of well 🤷🏼‍♀️

Can be read as a stand alone or as a part of the It's Never Too Late Series!

Sunlight spilled through your windows, the soft orange glow painting shadows on your bedroom walls from the curtains dancing in the crisp morning breeze. You gently stirred in your sleep, rustling the sheets and comforter around you, savoring in the warmth radiating from Javi's body as you nestled in closer to him, tucking your head against his chest and hiking up your leg over his. You felt his arm drape over your waist, tugging you in tighter as his thumb drew sleepy circles on the small of your back, the warm breath of his soft snores and dancing fingertips on your skin making a smile spread across your lips in your half awake state.

Reaching your arm up towards his face, you let your hand cradle his jaw, the scratch of his unshaven morning stubble rubbing against your palm before running your hands through the bed–headed curls at the nape of his neck. A gentle sigh grumbled low in his chest, letting both his arms wrap around you, lightly pressing a kiss in the messy curls of your morning hair.

The quiet silence of the early hours of the morning hung in the air, the sunrise just now bright enough to have you squinting your eyes, scrunching the sleep out of your face as a yawn bellowed from your belly, making you stretch your arms over Javi’s broad body. Wiggling your fingertips before bringing them back to twisting and tugging at his thick locks, your movement gradually began easing him more and more awake next to you.

“Good morning.” Javi whispered, pulling you closer to the bare skin of his chest, letting your head lean against him. You couldn’t help but savor in the familiar scent of him lingering in the sheets, the sweet and savory smell of his cologne still idling in the bed, even after being dampened by a night’s worth of rest.

“Good morning.” You grinned, your voice muffled as your words hit against his warm skin. The two of you lay there for a moment, drinking in the peaceful quiet of your sleepy Sunday morning.

“How’d you sleep, Hermosa?” Javi cooed, letting out his own yawn, flexing his arms above his hand before making their way back to your body, letting his hands creep under the hem of his shirt that you had worn to bed last night, sliding his fingers up and down the fabric.

“Good. I think the sunrise woke me up, sorry if I woke you up, too.” You sighed, rustling in the sheets, pulling them closer towards your face as the chill of the brisk December air filled your room, making you shiver and Javi chuckle as you wiggled against him.

“Shhhh, don’t be sorry, Osita. Glad I got to wake up to my favorite view. The sunrise is pretty nice, too.” Javi smirked, now awake enough to let his lips find yours, a tender kiss catching the quiet chuckle escaping your mouth.

“God, you’re so cheesy.” You giggled, gently shaking your head as you looked up to let your eyes meet with his, the dark brown glistening in the sunlight, making your heart melt just as fast as the first time you locked on to them.

“It’s true.” Javi grinned, planting another soft kiss on your lips as he wrapped both his arms around you pulling you so close, that you thought your bodies would meld together as one. “You want coffee?”

“I’m not sure why that’s even a question, Jav.” You teased, playfully raising an eyebrow at your husband, letting the hand resting along his jaw give his cheek a little squeeze. “Yes, please.”

With one more kiss presses against your forehead, Javi let out a grunt as he rolled out of bed, running his hand through his hair and along the back of his neck before reaching down to grab a pair of pajama pants he had begrudgingly begun to wear as he accepted defeat that the warm weather of the late summer and early fall was long gone. While it was cold enough for pajama pants, Javi had still not deemed it cold enough for a shirt, which you couldn’t complain about in the slightest.

Even with his body still slouched and sleepy, you couldn’t help but admire the muscles of his back as he stretched, your eyes trailing from the broadness of his shoulders to his waist, where his plaid pajamas sat low on his hips, the elastic waistband barely making it high enough to keep from falling off. His tanned and toned skin glowed in the morning light, accompanied by the wild curls of his untamed bedhead.

You turned over, laying on your side as you rested your hand in your chin, elbow propped against the mattress as you watched Javi disappear out of the bedroom, only to return a few minutes later with two mugs, steam curling off their tops. Setting black Laredo’s Sheriff's Department mug on his nightstand, he passed the well loved and worn “Empire Strikes Back” cup off to you, and the goofy grin plastered across your face as you watched his broad body stride across the room, back towards you.

“What’s that look for?” Javi smirked, sliding back into bed with you, shuffling himself under the sheets.

“What? I’m not allowed to admire the view either?” You giggled, biting down on your lip before taking a sip of your coffee, letting the warm liquid run through your body and making your eyes widen just a bit further at the sight of your devastatingly handsome husband sitting next to you.

“And I’m the cheesy one.” Javi teased, carefully grabbing your mug out of your hands and setting it down next to his before rolling over to cage your body under his, peppering ticklish kisses across your face and neck, making you squeal and squirm from his playfully loving touch.

“Wow, teasing me and stealing my coffee before I’m even all the way awake? You’re playing risky games there, babe.” A mischievous grin spread between your lips as Javi’s kisses began to travel their way down your body, his head beginning to disappear under the covers, stopping at your stomach and peeking back up at you with a boyish smirk.

“I think I know something that will wake you up just fine.”

Taglist

@cool-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadress @milly-louise @jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog @hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk

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idyllic-affections · 5 months

Text

taking their picture.

summary. taking the picture of various genshin and hsr characters.

trigger & content warnings. none applicable.

tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. fluff. pantalone & reader, baizhu & reader, venti & reader, dan heng & reader, himeko & reader. 0.5k words. no gendered pronouns used for reader (you/yours).

author's thoughts. no thoughts today. only vibes (<- is feeling unwell). i hate the 2nd person pov but it's the easiest one to use in this format HELP

pantalone isn't a fool, really. he's impossibly perceptive, even if it may not outright seem that way, especially on the days where he appears to be functioning on autopilot. he is no fool. he knows that something is going on when you seem to sneak around a bit more one day... and the click of a camera only confirms his suspicions. he can only smile fondly at your antics as he turns towards you, saying, "if you so desperately wanted a picture of me, dear, all you had to do was ask." he doesn't mind much, though. being the man he is... it's something he's used to, but he finds it to be sweeter when it's you taking his picture.

baizhu knows what you're doing, much like pantalone, but he doesn't mind. he's a bit flattered if anything. really, if you wanted a keepsake of him, you only would have had to ask and he would have been more than happy to oblige... but if you want to sneak pictures of him while he's in his element, focused on writing or preparing a perscription, he genuinely doesn't mind. you are never a bother—not to baizhu... not as long as you're polite and mindful, of course. he does need to get work done, after all.

venti, oh, venti... once he catches wind of your antics, he'll gladly entertain you! he might tease you a bit, though. he's your dear friend! if you wanted to have a picture of him, you should've just asked instead of being so sneaky <3 he wouldn't have said no! he'll pose for you and smile widely at the camera any time he sees you aiming it his way (though i feel as if, at first, you would have to thoroughly explain the concept to him... he is quite the old archon now, after all). if you manage to catch him off guard though, perhaps when he's performing or resting under windrise... the picture you'll get of him is very befitting of the archon he truly is.

dan heng doesn't visibly react much, but deep down, he finds it quite endearing. he won't entertain your antics; he won't turn your way and smile when you're about to take the picture, nor will he pose much beyond throwing up a casual peace sign as he's done at march so many times before... come to think of it, that's probably why he's so unbothered. you wouldn't be the first to take surprise photos of him. he wouldn't be surprised if you picked up that habit from march, actually.

himeko doesn't mind at all! she won't shy away or ask you to delete any photos you take of her. she thinks it's sweet, really, that you want to have pictures of her that you can hold dear when and if she's ever away. if you missed her so badly, you could always just... text her. or call her. she understands the sentiment of pictures, though. she'll always smile and even pose for you if you wanted her to. all of her photos come out remarkably beautiful, even if you catch her off guard. she's photogenic in that way.

please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot!

#aphelion's brainrots 🌸#favoniuslibrary #platonic genshin x reader #platonic hsr x reader #platonic genshin impact #platonic genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #hsr x reader #platonic honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #pantalone x reader #baizhu x reader #venti x reader #dan heng x reader #himeko x reader

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thatfreshi · 8 months

Note

OH THANK GOD anyways I think it'd be funny if astarion just found out his also elf lover was younger than he thought lol. Like vampy brain think "oh elf? Must be like 100 something at least" but nah they about as old as he was before the big bite lol

Recommended Song: Beneath the Mask - Adriana Figueroa, FT. Insanetherain

You and Astarion love waking up together. Despite the fact that he doesn't have to sleep all that much, he likes to, as long as it's with you. Even so, if he can't sleep, he'll lie next to you, his eyes wandering over your peaceful form. Most mornings, he wakes up before you. Or most nights. Your sleep schedule has gotten quite chaotic, living with a vampire and all. Then evening in particular, you wake up to his loving stare, eyes that tell all. You remember when they said nothing, when you could only hope to understand him.

"Good evening my sweet."

He goes to kiss your neck, clearly a little peckish. You feel one of his fangs graze your skin.

"I just woke up my love, give me a minute. So desperate, gods..."

You shove your face back into the pillow, exhaustion unwavering.

"I"m always desperate when it comes to you my dear."

He's right beside you, his sweet voice resonating in your veins, dripping into your blood like honey.

"At least you admit it."

He nudges you, urging you to get up from your slumber.

"Come now, you don't need any more beauty rest. You're perfect."

You move to look at him again, smiling like a little kid, wondering what you did to find this man. Well, technically you got kidnapped by mind flayers, but that's besides the point.

"I guess I should get up. Won't be young forever."

"Oh, you flatter yourself. You're not that young."

As you stretch in the moonlight through the window, you turn to give him an odd stare, raising an eyebrow.

"Aster, what do you mean?"

A laugh lies on the end of your sentence.

"Why, you're decades old at this point. I know us elves are supposed to live for a long time, but you're not some spry little thing."

You just continue to stare at him, confused. Is he kidding?

"Astarion, just how old do you think I am?"

"A hundred or so, maybe more, maybe less."

He then realizes it has never once come up in conversation. You don't really talk about ages all that much, as that often leads to birthdays, and you don't really celebrate birthdays either, considering Astarion doesn't remember when his is.

"Wait, have I really never asked how old you are?"

"Nope. I guess it doesn't really matter."

"Well, please share. I have to add it to my 'Encyclopedia of Tav'"

You get a little nervous, wondering if this will change anything. Clearly you're both mature people, but you hadn't thought of just how far apart you were.

"I'm only thirty."

He sits up.

"Are you- you're being serious? You're thirty?"

"No, I'm clearly joking about my age to get a rise out of you Astarion."

You roll your eyes at him. He looks off for a moment, clearly pondering something.

"You... you have so much time."

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Well, in that case, we have plenty of nights to spare."

He wraps his hands around your waist, pulling you on top of him. You smile, intertwining your fingers with his, holding hands against the blanket. You lean over by his ear.

"Might as well make the most of them."

#baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #astarion #astarion x reader #fluff

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bedoballoons · 6 months

Note

Is your requests still open i just got back on and stuff and i kinda forgot your username did you change it i feel like my memory is getting worser everyday🫠aside from that if you are still doing requests can i maybe request like a reader that has animals following them around because of the calming presence they have around them that they use to comfort the characters at times maybe with a dendro or cryo vision (tighnari, wanderer,lyney,xiao,nuevelle bro what is this mans name and maybe cyno for the last) oh and they are a healer

It did change! My older username was much longer and a randomly generated one so I decided to go with something more personal! Also so happy to see you again! Sorry this took forever to write, but I hope you enjoy!

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ🍂𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ🍂

{༻~Calm like a soft breeze~༺}

CW: Super sweet and fluffy!

(Includes: Lyney, Tighnari, Xiao, Wanderer, and Neuvillette!)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

𑁍༄Lyney:

"Oh my" Lyney gasped as he caught sight of the fish in the ocean, the lot of them swirling at the bottom of your feet while you searched for shells against the setting sun...the crabs had even started to follow you. You just had that affect on everything, anything that could see your sweet smile...feel the calm collected words that left your lips...they'd be entranced. He himself often got himself watching you with lovestruck eyes, hoping to catch glimpses of just what made you a walking safe place.

"Mon amour, you're one of the most beautiful mysteries of this world, I hope you realize just how many times you leave me in awe..."

"L-lyney...I'm just collecting shel-"

"I know and yet you've even caught the attention of the sea itself...incredible. Absolutely incredible."

𑁍༄Tighnari:

Tighnaris tail swayed slightly as he watched you, he couldn't help but be amazed...more animals gathering around to watch along with him as you intertwined small sticks into a crown. Your soft presence drawing him and every other living thing closer so they could see the culprit behind their newfound peace of mind. He had no clue how you managed to turn even his most stressed days into easy evenings. You truly had to be magical, and not like using a vision type of magic. A magic entirely your own, a spell you cast on anyone who met you.

"You're pretty incredible. I thought today was going terribly and then you turned it around like it had never been bad to begin with...how do you do it?"

"I just go with the flow and comfort you all the ways I can, you're the incredible one and I want to help you feel that way."

"There's no doubt you do."

𑁍༄Xiao:

Xiao sighed, watching as more birds gathered around you...your being radiating a calming aura that even had him feeling like he could lull off into a sweet sleep. "How do you always manage to draw the attention of the birds? You're just humming and yet it feels like you slow the world down so all can feel at peace...even me with my Karmic debt. How?"

"I'm not sure, I just humm the melody in my heart and hope that the birds and you enjoy it. As for being calming...I guess I find it easier to comfort people when I'm like this. Does this help?"

"Yes...I appreciate it. I might actually rest for awhile...if that's alright."

"Of course it is. Rest as long as you can my dear, you deserve it."

𑁍༄Wanderer:

Wanderer set his hat beside you, laying his head on your lap so he could look up at you while more animals gathered around the both of you. Normally so much attention from the wildlife would leave him annoyed...but you calmed his angry soul so easily. Reading aloud to the creatures of the forest and him while the clouds slowly swayed in the sky...you just left everything feeling safe and cozy.

"I don't know how you do it...but thanks I guess, for making me feel better. Even if you didn't really do anything but read. It helps.."

"If reading to you is what helps then consider it my pleasure."

"...you, are what helps."

𑁍༄Neuvillette:

Neuvillette opened the window slightly, allowing the many birds that had been sitting on the sill of it to get a better look at the source of the most wonderful lullaby they'd ever heard. Your voice was like the calming waves of a ocean, the perfect sound washing over him and wrapping him in a comforting warmth he'd needed so badly after his long day at work. He could listen to you for hours and never find your voice dull.

"You're a work of art my dear."

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚~Have a nice day~*⁠.⁠✧

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corroded-hellfire · 1 year

Text

As You Wish - Eddie Munson x Reader, Part 3

This was a collaboration with my dear @munson-blurbs!

Summary: Eddie knows he hasn’t gone about things as he should have, so he’s determined to make things better—for everyone. You can read part two here.

Note: Thank you everyone for your kind words and hilarious messages! Seeing what you all have to say about this series truly makes my day.

Warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up), breeding kink, spanking, oral f!receiving, I think that’s it?

Words: 10.8k

[All stories in this verse]

"I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as—”

BZZZT!

The apartment buzzer rings, startling you from your When Harry Met Sally trance. You’d nearly dropped your bowl of cookie dough ice cream.

“I’ll answer it,” your roommate calls out, padding across the living room. You muster up a smile as a silent thanks; you just don’t have the mental energy to face another human being right now.

“Who is it?” Jess asks, speaking into the intercom on the wall.

“It’s me. Um, it’s Eddie.” His voice makes your stomach drop into your feet as you violently shake your head no. You’d filled Jess in on what had happened over the weekend, and she certainly wasn’t on Eddie’s side.

Sure enough, a scowl crosses her face. “Why don’t you fuck off, Eddie?” she sneers.

“Yeah, so, I’ll do that,” he mumbles, “but I just need to drop something off. Please.” He sounds so pathetic. Good.

Jess looks over at you for your reaction. “I don’t want anything from him,” you mutter, snuggling deeper into your fuzzy blanket. “Tell him to go away.”

She nods, pressing on the intercom again. “Denied.” She starts to walk away, but Eddie’s pleas stop her in her tracks.

“Look, I know I fucked up big time. And I’m so sorry. I never should have dragged her into this; gotten her caught up in my bullshit. I was…I was a coward, okay? A goddamn coward. But I’m done avoiding fixing my mistakes. Because when I tried to run from my problems, I hurt the best girl I know. And I want—need her to know that I’ll prove how much she means to me, if she’ll let me.”

Jess turns to you, her eyes wide and slightly misty, obviously moved by Eddie’s words. She puts her hand over her heart and inclines her head towards you, silently asking if you’ve changed your mind. And it’s tempting. How many times did you fantasize about Eddie making some big dramatic declaration about how much he cares for you? But you’re scared. Scared this is some sort of false hope. That you’ll let yourself be ensnared by his spell and let yourself get hurt again and again. You’ve never had fear like this before and it’s as if your body and mind just want to shut down.

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “I-I don’t want to see him.”

Now Jess goes from moved to annoyed. She plants her hands on her hips and takes a few steps closer to where you’re curled up on the old floral couch. “Are you kidding me right now? I’ve listened to you sing the praises of this man for a year now. How sweet and kind and wonderful he is. Listened to you say over and over again how much you love him and how if you had him, you’d never take him for granted like his crazy bitch of a wife does.” She flings her hand toward the front door. “Well? He’s here. Trying to apologize for what he’s put you through. You even said yourself when you came home crying the other day that you know he cares about you. So why don’t you at least hear him out?”

“I don’t want to see him,” you say in a small voice. Sniffling, you shrug your shoulders. “You’ve never seen his eyes.” You shake your head, gaze dropping to your lap. “He has this puppy dog look about him and I know if I see it, I’ll cave no matter what he says.”

“So, go in your room,” Jess says. “I’ll let him up, drop whatever he wants to drop off, let him say his peace. And you can just listen.”

Heaving a sigh, you snatch up the remote and press the pause button. Tossing the blanket from your lap, you stand and make the few steps into your room and shut the door. Jess scurries back over to the intercom, hoping he hasn’t left yet.

“Eddie?”

“Yeah! Yeah, still here.” The hope is clear in his voice as he realizes he hasn’t been ignored completely.

“Come on up.”

Eddie wastes no time, pulling the door open as soon as Jess presses the button, taking the stairs two at a time and making his way to apartment 217. The sound of his knuckles rapping on the door reaches you in your bedroom and you wrap your arms around your body, mentally preparing yourself to listen to what he has to say.

“She’s in her room,” you hear Jess tell him. “You can talk through the door. And what have you got to drop off?”

There’s silence except for Eddie’s footsteps and the curiosity of what he’s brought burns in your brain. As his footsteps come right up to the other side of your door, there’s a buzzing in your stomach.

“C-Can you hear me?” Eddie asks.

“Yes,” you say, squeezing your eyes shut. Just the sound of his voice so near has you longing to throw the door open and jump into his arms. You’ve never felt as safe in your life as you did when he was hugging you.

“I, um.” Eddie clears his throat. “I’m so sorry, sweethea—I’m sorry. I fucked up big time. What are you…” Eddie trails off and your eyebrows pinch in concern.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Jess says, loudly enough that you know she’s standing next to Eddie. “But you should read this.” There’s a slide against the hardwood of your floor and you look down to see a little white rectangle slip under your door. It’s a business card, you realize as you pick it up.

Carl Hampton, Esquire

Divorce Attorney

“Turn it over,” Jess says.

It’s not enough for you to be mine, so I’m taking the first step towards being yours - Eddie

The tears start immediately. Even as you read the note in Eddie’s scrawling handwriting over and over again, your vision goes a little bit blurrier each time. Your hand trembles as you hold the card, the other going up to cover your mouth. Even though you think you’ve been quiet as your crying grows to sobs, you must be louder than you realize.

“Okay, she’s crying,” Eddie says, clearly talking to Jess.

“Let me go in,” Jess says, but when she cracks the door open you catch sight of Eddie. He’s distorted and fuzzy through your tears, but you’d know that mass of curls anywhere. Jess has just enough time to jump out of the way as you launch yourself into his arms, not sure if this means you forgive him or not, but just knowing you need to be held by him.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Eddie says as he clutches you against his body. “Shhh, it’s okay.” One of his arms is wrapped securely around your waist while his hand on the other comes up to smooth over your hair. “You’re okay.”

Jess sidesteps the two of you embracing, so she can head back into the living room; just far enough to be out of the way but close enough to hear everything.

Eddie’s touch manages, as always, to calm you down. Something about his entire being makes you feel seen and understood. It’s been that way since day one with him. When you’ve calmed enough that you think you could talk without Jess acting as an interpreter, you pull away from Eddie and wipe your tear streaked face off on the sleeves of your sweatshirt.

“Eddie, please don’t break up your family for me.”

“Baby,” he slips up with the pet name, but neither of you says anything. “I’m just doing what I should’ve done ages ago. I never should have put you in this position.” Eddie aches to bring his hands up to your face, but he doesn’t want to overstep what you’re comfortable with. It’s killing him to see you visibly upset, knowing he caused it, and just holding you wouldn’t solve anything.

You nod your head at his words. Some of the pain is starting to ease and you feel like you can breathe properly for the first time in days. You’d told Eddie you just wanted to see him doing something; taking a step in the right direction. And this was a pretty damn good step to take. “You’ve called this guy?”

“No, I didn’t call him. I spent all morning at his office,” Eddie says, and your head snaps up to meet his eyes. “I’ve done everything I have to for the process to begin. Now they work on whatever legal bullshit they’ve got to do, I guess.”

But there’s something else that’s been eating at you. Yes, Eddie should’ve divorced Brittany a long time ago. But now that he’s finally doing it, does he really want to jump from one relationship to another? “Are you sure you want this? You don’t want to stay single for a while? Because I’ll under—”

Eddie caves and brings his hands up to your face, leaning in to press his lips firmly against yours, trying to convey all the love and fondness he can through one kiss.

“I love you,” Eddie says once he’s pulled away. “And you don’t have to say it back if you don’t feel it, but I needed to tell you. I fucking love you.”

There’s never been so much confusion in your heart before. Eddie loves you. The thought can’t seem to sink in. Eddie loves me. You know wholeheartedly that you reciprocate the feeling. You’ve known that you love him for a long time. But there’s still so much fear. It’s dampening the excitement of his declaration.

“I—I’m afraid,” you murmur, eyes unable to meet his.

Eddie frowns, taking your chin in his hand and tilting it slightly upwards. “Am I that mean and scary?” There’s some humor behind his words, but they’re tinged with concern.

“No.” You shake your head. “I’m afraid that if I say it back and it—it makes it real, it’ll hurt even more if…” You can’t even finish the sentence without choking up.

“Hey, hey,” Eddie presses his lips to yours. “It’s okay. I get it. Baby, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared, too. I mean, an old man like me getting involved with a total knockout like you? Beauty and brains?” He chuckles. “Let’s face it, pretty girl. I have a lot more to lose than you do.”

“I…I…” you hesitate, trying to muster up an ounce of courage. “I can’t do this, Eddie.” You gently press the business card back into his palm. “I can’t be in love with someone who’s married.” Your eyes widen as you come to a realization that makes you sick. “The boys…they’ll know I’m the reason that their parents split up.” You imagine their sweet, innocent faces blotchy with tears as they tell you they hate you.

Eddie’s posture goes tense, and he almost sounds angry as he says, “Absolutely not. You gave me the courage to file, but my marriage was over long before this.” Your lips brush together in a series of chaste kisses. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” He rests his nose on yours; the saltiness of his own tears mixing with yours as they seep into your tongue.

“I think we need to wait,” you blurt out, words tumbling from your mouth before you can think them through. “Until Brittany knows that you’ve filed, and you’ve talked about it with the kids.” It’s painful to push him away, but it’ll hurt worse if you continue this and he decides not to follow through with the divorce.

Eddie looks crushed, like he was hoping to sweep you off your feet and make love to you right then and there. “Right, yeah. That makes sense.” He sniffles, trying to will away the sting of your rejection. “When that happens, we can finally be together?”

“If that’s what we both want.”

“Baby, I’ll never stop wanting you.” He’s so tempted to pull you into him and leave harsh, bruising kisses down your jawline, claiming you as his. “I’ll wait as long as you need.”

You just nod, twiddling your thumbs to keep yourself from intertwining your fingers with his. “Do you still want me to watch the boys?” you ask shyly, cheeks burning at the ridiculousness of the question. “Because I get it if—”

“If it’s okay with you. We’d—they’d—really miss you if you just up and left.” I’d miss you most of all, he thinks, but keeps it buttoned up inside.

“Yeah,” you concede, stepping back towards your bed. “I’ll see you all later, then.”

You’re about to close the door when you hear him say, “Wait.” He steps closer to you, business card between his pointer and middle fingers. “Hold onto this f’me, please?”

You initially hesitate before accepting the card again. “Okay.”

“Never want you to forget how I feel about you,” Eddie says, placing one last kiss on your cheek before he’s out the door, leaving you in a spiral of your own racing thoughts.

As soon as Jess hears his footsteps disappear down the hall, she’s in your room. “I don’t normally tell you what to do,” she murmurs, rubbing small circles on your back, “but if you don’t marry this man, I will.”

You give her a playful nudge as you rest your head on her shoulder. “He’s gotta get un-married first,” you remind her—and yourself—bitterly.

After the conversation you had with Eddie earlier in the day, you’re a little worried things will be awkward when you pick Luke and Ryan up from school. But thankfully, they’re the same happy kids you know and love, and not a thing is different with them. It’s almost time for Eddie to come home when the three of you are finishing up a game of Candyland. Luke kept getting caught in the Molasses Swamp, so he huffs as you enlist their help in cleaning up the board and pieces. When the little boy stomps down the hall to put the game away, Ryan looks up at you. You give him a smile and his gaze shifts back to his lap. He glances back up at you and the unusual behavior makes you frown.

“What’s up, buttercup?” you ask.

“Why were you sad?” he asks, voice soft.

Frowning, you move some hair off of his forehead. “What do you mean?”

“On Saturday. You were talking with Daddy and then you got really sad and left. You didn’t even come say hi.” His sad brown eyes look so much like his father’s that it brings you back to when Eddie gave you the same look this morning.

“I didn’t know you saw me.” You pause, fidgeting with your fingers in your lap. You’re not sure if Eddie had already said anything about it or not and you don’t want to contradict any explanation he might have given the kids. “Um, well, I was having a bad day. Do you ever have a day where you just don’t feel very happy?” Ryan nods. “That’s what it was. And I didn’t want to make you or Luke sad too, so that’s why I didn’t say hi.”

“Oh,” Ryan says, nodding his head. “Are you still sad?”

“Not as much,” you tell him truthfully. “Just a little.”

His little hand comes over and takes yours. “I don’t want you to be sad. You know what Daddy tells me when I get sad? That he loves me. And I love you. So, I’m telling you that.”

The smile that comes to your face is reflexive. Ryan is such a sweet boy, and you can’t imagine what your life would be like without him. You lean in and press a kiss to his hair, mumbling against it. “Seems to be a trend with the Munson boys today.”

“What?” Ryan asks.

“I love you, too,” you tell him, squeezing his hand gently. “You made me feel better.”

“Good!” A smile lights up his face and you wonder how this kid became so sweet despite having a mother like he does. Then the obvious answer hits you: Eddie’s his dad. Sweet, kind, means-well-but-sometimes-fucks-it-up Eddie.

You’re jostled from your thoughts by the sound of a key turning in the lock. Eddie hustles in, giving you a small smile.

“Hi,” he says simply, waiting for your response to see how he should proceed. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his coveralls.

“Hi.” You stand up and return his smile. “The boys were great today, as always.” You rest your palm on Ryan’s shoulder as he gives his dad a grin, showing off the gaps where his missing teeth are.

“We played Candyland, and I won,” he proudly reports. “And then I used your cheer-up trick! You know, when you tell someone you love that you love them.”

“Oh?” Eddie cocks an eyebrow. “Luke was that upset about losing?”

You shake your head. “No–well, yes,” you chuckle softly. “But he was talking about me. He saw that I was sad on Saturday and wanted to make me feel better.”

A wider smile spreads across Eddie’s face. “You’re a thoughtful kid, you know that?” he tells his oldest son, who doesn’t quite understand the concept of rhetorical questions.

“I know.” His candid demeanor makes you and Eddie laugh, and Ryan sprints to his brother’s room to announce that their dad is home.

You reach for your jacket, eager to leave before you’re tempted to talk to Eddie. Because you know precisely where that will lead.

“Hey, um,” Eddie digs into his pocket and pulls out more bills than usual from his wallet. “I’m gonna tell her tonight. Figured that’d go over better than just having her served.” He hands you your salary plus two extra twenties. “Could you take the boys out for dinner? Could just be McDonald’s or somethin’.”

You swallow thickly as you accept the money. “Y-Yeah,” you stammer, “how long will you need?”

“Give us an hour?” he shrugs. “Don’t think it’ll take that long; she’ll probably yell for a few minutes and then leave. But just in case she decides to stick around and scream for a while.” His chocolate brown eyes meet yours, making you shiver. “Thank you, baby–I mean, thank you. For, um, for everything.”

“Of course,” you nod. There’s a beat of awkward silence before you say, “I’ll go tell Luke and Ryan. They’ll probably be excited to have a Happy Meal.”

Eddie bites his lower lip as he watches you walk away. It’s going to be the hardest conversation of his life, but knowing it’ll bring you back to him makes it worth it.

Brittany comes home after you’ve already left with the kids, thankfully. Eddie’s waiting at the kitchen table, hands folded in front of him and knee bouncing up and down in nervousness. Brittany hangs up her coat and pauses as she passes the kitchen, raising an eyebrow as she sees her husband sitting there.

“Um, hi?” she says.

“Hi, um.” Eddie kicks out the seat across from him at the table. “Can you sit? I need to talk to you about something.”

To his complete shock, she complies. “Where are the boys?”

“Uh, out to dinner. I needed to talk to you. Alone.”

“Okay.” Brittany crosses her arms over her chest before her face contorts in a sneer. “Wait. Is that little whore pregnant?”

Eddie bangs his palm against the table before pointing a finger at her. “Don’t you fucking call her that.” He takes a moment to compose himself, then a small smile creeps on his face as he thinks about the question. At the very thought of you having his baby.

“Holy shit, she is!” Brittany shouts.

“Oh, calm down!” Eddie rolls his eyes and motions for her to relax. “She’s not.”

“What’s with that dopey grin then, huh?” She spits the words at him, venom lacing every syllable.

“Honestly? Cause the thought of her having my baby makes me really fucking happy. But that’s not—.”

“Ugh!” Brittany screeches. “What is wrong with you? I am your wife. Me! Remember? The one you promised yourself to?”

Eddie throws his head back and laughs, a hand slapping against his chest. “You’re actually serious? Really, Britt? You realize you’re the one who broke the vows first, remember? Years and years ago. So, you don’t get to act all high and mighty here.” Eddie licks over his lips, shaking his head. “You’re right, technically. You are my wife.” Not for long, he thinks to himself. “But we’ve been over a long time.”

“Just because you’ve decided it?” She arches a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

“Because you stepped out and stopped giving a shit about me.” Eddie holds his hands up. “I’m getting off track. Listen, I saw a lawyer today.”

“Why?” she snaps.

“I filed for divorce.” No sugar coating it. No beating around the bush. This shitshow of a marriage has already taken up too much of Eddie’s time. “And don’t blame her for it, because all she did was give me the courage to do what I should’ve done ages ago.” His eyes are blazing. “You only kept me around so you could pretend to have this perfect little life: husband, kids, house in the suburbs. Or maybe because you get some sick pleasure from stringing me along while you sleep with half the town.” That last part is probably a step too far, but he doesn’t care.

Brittany scoffs incredulously. “Fine, Eddie. You two enjoy your Barbie Dreamhouse life together. The boys and I will manage without you.” She starts to stand up, but she’s drawn back by a loud guffaw from Eddie. “What?”

“Do you really think they’re gonna want to live with you? Do you even know what goddamn grade they’re in? What they want to be when they grow up?” He watches her face fall. “That’s what I fuckin’ thought. And you know the saddest part? They know it, too. They know that their own mother doesn’t give a shit about them.” He wipes a tear from his cheek. “I bet you know every last detail about your boyfriends, though. You and your fucked up priorities.”

Brittany’s expression turns from shock to rage. “Get. Out.” she seethes, gritting her teeth. “Go stay with your girlfriend, since you love her so much.” She’s crying, too, but because she’s losing the argument, not because she’s losing her husband.

“You’re gonna wake up with them and get them ready for school in the morning? Tell me; what do they eat for breakfast?” He laughs tersely at her silence. “That’s what I thought.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m staying here. For Ryan and Luke.” His voice softens slightly. “You can stay here, too, until we sort this shit out.”

Brittany doesn’t take him up on his offer; instead, she storms out of the room and into the bedroom. She starts tossing clothes into a duffel bag, zipping it up and tossing it over her shoulder. “I’ll be back tomorrow after they go to school to get the rest of my things.”

She slams the screen door behind her, and Eddie hears her car start up and peel out of the driveway. He allows himself to sob, mourning the life he’d once had. But he still has his boys; his incredible, gentle, loving sons.

And if he plays his cards right, he has you, too.

Eddie finally drags himself from the kitchen table to the bathroom where he washes his face. It’s all red and splotchy from the crying, and the tears are sticky on his skin. As he’s toweling himself off, the bathroom light glints off his golden wedding ring, reflecting in the mirror above the sink. Eddie sets the soft towel down and stares at his left hand. He should be upset about taking it off, he thinks. But as he slips it off his finger all he feels is immense relief. It’s as if the ring weighed a ton and now without it, he feels light as a feather. Walking into his room, he pulls open his bedside table and drops the ring inside. He’ll have to think of something to do with it, but for now, it’s fine lying in the dusty old drawer.

The front door opens, and two loud voices echo back to the master bedroom. Rubbing his hands over his face one last time, Eddie heads out to greet his family.

“Daddy!” Luke calls when he sees him. “Look! I got a race car toy!”

“Wow,” Eddie says, taking the small blue car from his son. He looks it over and nods his head appreciatively. “This looks like something I’d want to work on in the garage.”

Luke giggles and takes the toy back, happily going over to the coffee table which he pretends is a road for his new car to drive over.

“Hi, Dad! Bye, Dad!” Ryan runs towards the bathroom, making Eddie chuckle.

“Wasn’t sure he was going to make it home,” you say. Eddie slips his hands into the pockets of his jeans and gives you a small smile. His eyes catch on the chocolate shake in your hands, and you hold it out to him. “Got you this. Thought you might need it.”

“Thanks,” Eddie says as he accepts the treat.

“How’d it go?” you ask.

Eddie heaves a sigh and shakes his head. “Pretty much how I expected it to. She left for the night—went God knows where. Says she’ll be back tomorrow for her things.”

As tense as things are between you and Eddie, you can’t help but step forward and place a comforting hand on his shoulder, rubbing over the thin material of his t-shirt. “I’m sorry. I can't imagine how hard it was for you.”

“The conversation? Yeah. Doing it? Nah. That wasn’t hard,” he says with a shrug. “How were the boys?”

You both know they were fine, but you take the hint that Eddie doesn’t want to talk about it anymore. He lifts the shake to his mouth and your eyes catch on his hand. At the bare ring finger. The sight makes your tummy do a weird flip that you’re not sure how to interpret.

“They—They were fine. Good,” you say. “I, um, I should go now. Jess is probably wondering where I am.” You grab your keys and head for the door.

“Wait!” Eddie calls out, a bit louder than he’d meant to. “Sorry. I just wanted you to know that there’s no time limit on…on us. I mean, if it’s a definite no, I’ll shut up and leave you alone...”

“Eddie,” you smile, more genuinely than before. “You’ve never shut up before, and I don’t expect you to start now.”

“You know what I mean though, right?”

“I do,” you agree. “And I need time to think, but it’s…we’re not off the table.”

Eddie grins; he has to stop himself from picking you up and spinning you around in celebration. “I can live with that,” he says finally.

“You’d better.”

Sure enough, Brittany comes back the next morning to pack more of her clothes. She briefly kisses Luke and Ryan hello, shooting a glare at Eddie that could kill.

“I’m giving you until Friday to move out,” she snarls once the boys are out of earshot. “We can figure out custody shit with the lawyer, but I think it’s best for them to be in the house for now. With me,” she adds pointedly.

Eddie sighs, exhausted from just the prospect of arguing. “Fine,” he concedes, “but just because I’m moving out doesn’t mean I’m not gonna fight like hell for them.” He zips up his coveralls and calls out for the kids to put their shoes on before they miss the bus.

“Whatever, Eddie,” Brittany rolls her eyes, slipping on her blazer and her nametag. “You know they won’t take kids from their mom. You’ll just get every other weekend like the rest of the loser dads.”

Eddie takes the week to pack up his things, a pit in his stomach as he gets to the photos on his nightstand. The one of him and Brittany can go in the trash, but his heart pangs at the framed picture of his boys. The thought of waking up in the morning without them right down the hall is enough to make him cry.

“No,” he tells himself, “I’m gonna get custody of them. Full custody.” He can picture a new little home with you, Luke, and Ryan. And maybe another baby Munson or two, if you’re willing.

He makes plans with Steve to stay with him and his family, but on Friday morning, an exasperated phone call thwarts his plans.

“Hey, Munson,” Steve coughs into the phone, and Eddie winces when he hears how sick his friend sounds. “The whole Harrington bunch has the flu. It’s like an infirmary here.” He laughs softly, resulting in another round of hacking coughs. “I don’t think we’re quite up for visitors right now. I’m sorry, man.”

“S’okay,” Eddie grumbles. “Feel better.” He doesn’t have time to figure out new plans before he has to get to work, so he’ll just have to brainstorm through his oil changes today.

When you pick the kids up from school that afternoon, you immediately notice how quiet both boys are—especially Ryan. You’re almost positive you know the reason why, but you debate with yourself the whole ride back to the house if you should say anything.

Luke seems to be in a better mood once he gets a snack in him. He sits on the couch, little legs tucked up underneath his body as he munches on graham crackers and watches Scooby Doo. Ryan is still noticeably glum though, sitting at the kitchen table, his finger tracing random patterns on the green tabletop.

“Hey,” you say, taking the seat next to him. There’s no way you can just stand by and see this sweet boy feel so lousy. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right? If something is bothering you or is on your mind. Anything.”

Ryan nods his head, and you think he’s going to stay silent. But after a few moments he lifts his head up towards you, his large brown eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I don’t want to live here with Mom.”

It’s not what you expected to come out of his mouth. Any variation of “mom and daddy are breaking up” is what you thought you were going to hear.

“What do you mean, sweetheart?”

Ryan sniffles and wipes his nose on his sleeve. Any other time you’d correct him for it, but the least you could do is let it pass.

“Daddy said Mom is staying here and Luke and I can’t come with him yet. He’s going to stay with Uncle Steve and it’s not fair because I know they have a big house and I’m little enough to share a room with Daddy. But he said me or Luke can’t.”

Releasing a sigh, you wrap your arm around Ryan’s shoulders. It’s times like these where you don’t feel like the adult you legally have been for years. When you were a kid you thought adults always knew the right thing to say. Now you know that’s bullshit.

“Oh, Ryan.” You press a kiss to the top of his head. “You know Daddy would give anything to have you both with him, don’t you? You know how much he loves you.”

“More than Mom does,” Ryan says matter-of-factly. It breaks your heart that he knows that at only seven years old. And you can’t bring yourself to lie to the boy by refuting the claim.

“Daddy loves you so much,” you reiterate. “And I love you.”

“Hey,” Ryan says with a small smile. “You used Daddy’s trick, too.”

“Look at that,” you say. “And I didn’t even mean to. I was just telling you the truth about how much I love you.” You pull him into a hug, and he climbs in your lap. The only other time he’s done this before was when he was sick, so you know he desperately needs the comfort. “Hey, I’ve got you. Everything is going to be okay.” Cradling him against your body, you rest your head on top of his.

By the time Eddie gets home, both of the boys are crashed on the couch with you, one tucked on either side as Toy Story plays on the television. Their father looks wrung out as he steps inside, bags under his eyes and exhaustion worn into lines on his face. Both boys jump up and run to him like normal, but the way they cling to him this time is more desperate and needy. It brings a stinging pressure behind your eyes, and you have to blink it away.

“Hey!” Eddie says, attempting to be cheerful for them. “There’s my boys! How was your day?”

“Okay,” Ryan says at the same time that Luke shrugs. Eddie kisses both of their heads before unzipping his coveralls and giving you a small, weary smile.

You’re not sure why, but you get the urge to stand up and follow Eddie down the hallway. He raises an eyebrow when you follow him into his room. Your eyes take in the boxes around the cleared-out space before looking back to him.

“Are you okay?”

“Uh,” Eddie says with a shrug. “Hanging in there, I guess.” He sighs and runs a hand down his face. “Gotta blow some cash on a hotel though ‘cause the Harrington clan got the flu.”

You frown at that. The offer is on the tip of your tongue, but you take a moment to consider it. Is it a good idea? Sure, the tension has eased a bit between the two of you over the course of the week, but it’s still there. It’s not that you feel awkward around him, exactly, it’s more of a yearning that you’re trying to keep in check. But you still love him, and you don’t want to see him wasting his money or spending time all alone holed up in some hotel.

“Eddie, don’t do that. Save your money. Come stay with me.”

His jaw drops and a rough chuckle falls from his mouth. “Sweetheart—you, you don’t have to do this. Really, it’s fine.”

Taking a step closer, you grab one of Eddie’s hands in your own. “You’re about to be a single dad to two growing boys. And paying a lawyer to try and get custody. Come on, just stay with me.”

Eddie sighs, your logic wearing him down. Finally, he nods his head and licks over his lips. “Okay. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“No, it’s okay,” you tell him. “As long as you’re not wearing your dirty coveralls, you’re more than welcome to sleep next to me.”

He sticks his tongue out at you. “My coveralls don’t make the cut, but you’re fine after being around germ machines all day?”

“They’re your germ machines!” you remind him.

When Brittany gets home, she completely ignores you. “You can go now,” she says to her soon-to-be-ex-husband. “Is your stuff packed already?” Eddie nods, but she’s already walked past him.

“Boys, come say goodbye to your dad!” Brittany calls out half-heartedly. Eddie cringes at the way it sounds: your dad. Not dad, the father of this family; now he’s an outsider in his own home.

Ryan and Luke trudge out of their rooms. “Daddy,” Luke asks softly, “can you stay? Please? You can sleep in my room if you don’t want to be near Mom.”

Eddie blinks back tears. “I’m sorry, bud,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to each of their foreheads. “That’s real nice of you to offer, though.”

“I love you, Daddy.” Ryan throws his arms around his dad, squeezing him tight. “‘M gonna miss you.”

“Hey, hey,” Eddie forces out a chuckle, “I’m moving out; I’m not dead.” He looks up at you, and you give him a small, encouraging smile. “I’ll stop by tomorrow and we can go to the park, yeah?”

“All of us?” asks Ryan.

“Um,” Eddie clears his throat, “I don’t know if Mom will—”

“No,” Ryan shakes his head. “I meant…” He looks at you, and you’re taken aback.

“I don’t want to interrupt your father-son bonding time,” you gently tease, trying not to overstep your bounds.

“But we want you to come!” Luke protests, glancing at Ryan for confirmation, who nods. “You can play tag with us. Daddy’s too old.”

“Excuse me, sir!” Eddie gasps. “Could an old man do this?” He takes each boy in one arm and throws them over his shoulder. They’re giggling and kicking their feet; Luke narrowly misses Eddie’s groin. “Hey, be careful of the family jewels,” he warns, making them laugh even harder.

When he sets them down, he looks them square in the eyes. “Tomorrow. Playground. The four of us. And I will kick your little butts in tag. Got it?”

“Got it!” the boys echo, giving him one last hug before going back to play.

You turn to Eddie. “Y’okay?” you ask him, though it seems like a dumb question.

“Getting there,” he admits, slinging a duffel bag over his shoulder and managing a smile. “Let’s hit the road.”

Eddie throws his bag in his van and climbs in. He follows you as you drive to your apartment and pulls into the parking space next to you. When Eddie steps out of his van, you can tell he’d been crying on the drive over, but you can’t blame him one bit.

Jess is sitting on the couch when the two of you walk in, a bowl of popcorn in her lap and Pretty Woman playing on the television. Her hand freezes halfway to her mouth, a few kernels of popcorn stuck between her fingers and her jaw hanging open.

“Hi, again,” Eddie says, giving her a sheepish smile. Jess raises her other hand in greeting, eyes darting over to look at you.

“Yeah, we uh, we’ve got a house guest for now,” you say, cheeks getting warm. You gesture for Eddie to go ahead of you, into your room. Jess raises her eyebrows at you when you walk past, and you playfully swat at her before following in behind him. Closing the door, you lean against it as you watch Eddie drop his duffel onto your floor.

“You hungry?” you ask. Eddie shrugs and slides his hands into his pockets. You huff a laugh and roll your eyes. “Eddie, we have food. I can make something.”

“Don’t wanna put you out any more than I am,” he says, shrugging again.

“So, what? You’re not going to eat the whole time you’re here?” You raise your eyebrows at him and walk over, tugging on the zipper of his leather jacket. “You’re also allowed to take your jacket off, ya know? We don’t make our guests sweat or starve themselves to death.”

“Such a good hostess,” Eddie says with a playful smirk.

“Oh, come on.” You open your bedroom door and walk out to the kitchen, waiting as Eddie trails along behind you. Pursing your lips, you open the freezer and peer inside. “Should we have ice cream sundaes for dinner?”

“Oh, the boys would be so jealous.” Eddie chuckles and reaches in to grab the ice cream. You put two bowls down on the counter and Eddie starts scooping as you grab any toppings you can find. Whipped cream, sprinkles, chocolate chips, cherries, and chocolate sauce. Eddie dips his finger in the chocolate sauce and puts a dot of it on your nose. He laughs when you go cross eyed trying to look at it.

“Whipped cream, please,” you say, holding your hand out. The sound of the spout spraying out the airy cream meets your ears before you feel the cold stickiness hitting your palm. “I meant the can!”

Eddie’s smirk falls from his face as you lick the whipped topping from your hand, instantly realizing he walked right into you teasing him like that. It hadn’t been your intention to tease him though, and you feel your face warm up as you swallow the mouthful. Neither of you having eaten in hours, you inhale the sundaes, and Eddie manages to only get brain freeze once. You put the empty bowls in the sink to be washed later, and Eddie says he’s going to take a quick shower. As you grab a towel for him, you tease him about making sure he gets all the dirt from his coveralls off his body. He tugs on a strand of your hair before heading into the bathroom.

Even though it’s early, you change into your pajamas and get comfortable on your bed. You pull out your worn copy of Little Women and reread it for what must be the hundredth time. You’re so enraptured by Jo and Laurie’s banter that you don’t even hear the shower turn off.

“Jesus H. Christ!” Eddie’s voice snaps you from your book. Your jaw nearly drops to the ground when you see him walk in, wearing nothing but the towel around his lithe waist. His curly hair is dripping wet, leaving little water droplets along his bare shoulders as he scrambles for his clothes. “Shit, ‘m sorry. Forgot my suitcase…”

“It’s fine,” you reassure him, marking your page with an old receipt and closing the book. “Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

Eddie blushes, and it’s simultaneously the cutest and sexiest thing you’ve ever seen. “Y-Yeah, but we’re not doing, um, that anymore, so…” He grabs a clean pair of boxers and plaid pajama pants. “I’ll just get changed in the bathroom.”

He comes back without a shirt on, and you cock an eyebrow in amusement. “Forget something?” you ask, trying to play it cool and not salivate at the sight of his tattooed chest.

“Oh, yeah…” he grins sheepishly. “I usually get too warm to sleep with a shirt, b-but I can put one on if you’d feel more comfortable.”

The ache between your legs tells you that something else has to happen to alleviate your discomfort, but you push away that thought. “Nah, I’d rather sleep next to a shirtless Eddie than a sweaty one.” But that’s bullshit; you’d sleep next to any version of him you could get.

Eddie flips you off before climbing into bed. “Longest week of my life,” he mutters. His arm instinctively snakes around your waist; it isn’t until you move to flick off your lamp that he realizes. “Fuck, ‘m just so used to holding you.” He starts to pull away, but you hold his hand in place.

“You can hold me…if you want to,” you murmur, sliding deeper under the covers. “Y’don’t have to.”

But Eddie’s already tugging your back to his chest. “Don’t have to tell me twice.” His voice is muffled, face nuzzled against your shoulder blade. “Oh, and don’t mind him if he’s excited in the morning. He has a mind of his own.”

You throw his words back at him. “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

A comfortable silence fills the air as you lay in his arms. He presses tiny kisses along your shoulders, making you shiver.

“Eddie?” Your voice is so small that even you barely hear it. “Can I ask you something?” You adjust yourself so that you’re facing him, your nose touching his. His big hands fall to your thighs, and he rubs his thumb along them as he waits for you to elaborate. “The other day, when you said you love me…why?”

His face scrunches up in confusion. “Why did I say it? Or why do I love you?”

“Both, I guess.”

“Well,” he starts, bringing one palm up to cup your cheek, “I love you because you treat me and my boys with love, kindness, and respect. I love you because you make me smile on my worst days. Saying goodbye to Ryan and Luke tonight…I thought my heart was gonna break in half. But then you were there, and I knew everything would be all right. Maybe not right now, but it will be. You give me hope. And I haven’t felt that for a long time.” He offers you a little smile. “And I told you because you deserve to know how fucking loved you are.”

His confession leaves you breathless; it takes you a moment to process it all. “Eddie Munson, the fact that anyone made you question your worth…” you trail off, shaking your head. That isn’t what this is about. “You make me happy. I never knew that one person could be so kind, so thoughtful, so loving. And your boys…God, they’re just the best kids, all because of you. They see what a gentle, sensitive man you are, and they’re not afraid to show that side of themselves.”

“I’m actually very burly,” he pouts. “Dunno why you’re painting me as this big ol’ softy.”

“You’re right; I’m sorry,” you giggle. “You’re the toughest, grittiest guy I know. You could fight a kangaroo and win.” You feel his fingertips dig into your hips as he brings you even closer to him. “And those are just some of the reasons why…why I love you, Eddie.”

Even in the dim lighting of your darkened room you can see the way Eddie’s face lights up at your words. If your stomach wasn’t already a flurry from finally telling him how you feel, it would be from the sheer joy in his expression.

“Say it again,” Eddie pleads, hand coming up to cup your cheek. “Please.”

“I love you, Eddie.” His smile is contagious as you mirror it, saying the words that have long been on your heart.

“I love you, too.”

It’s far from your first kiss, but as the two of you lean in towards one another, the electricity crackles in the air around you. There’s a giddiness and an earnesty when your lips touch that sends a shockwave through your body. It’s not your first kiss but it’s your first kiss since you’ve declared your love for one another. That makes it your favorite kiss of all.

Eddie rests his forehead against yours, hand sliding down to your neck and his thumb brushing over your pulse point. Goosebumps break out on your skin beneath his touch, and he chuckles as he feels them against his fingertips.

“Can’t believe you react that way because of me,” he says. “I feel like all of this is too good to be true.”

You nod, your hand coming up to rest on top of his black widow tattoo, over his heart. “I know what you mean. I felt that way our first night.”

“Mm, but now,” Eddie says, pausing to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “It’s just you and me and nothing has to be hidden. I can take you out, hold your hand in public, kiss you in front of whoever I want—with your permission, of course.”

“What about the boys?” Your hand comes up to play with the damp curls at the base of his neck. “What do we tell them? It might be confusing for them to go straight from ‘Daddy loves Mom’ to ‘Daddy loves our babysitter.’”

“That wasn’t exactly how it happened,” Eddie says with a breathy chuckle. “More like ‘Daddy stopped loving Mom a long time ago because she’s evil incarnate and then he met the most beautiful, wonderful, amazing woman who stole his heart.’”

“That might be a little tough for them to swallow,” you say, a playful smirk on your lips.

“Well…” Eddie says, looking up at you through his dark eyelashes. There’s a shy expression on his face and it’s so foreign to his features. “What are we, then? Like, how would you want to describe what we have?”

It sounds like such a high school question, but it’s important to figure it out and make sure you’re both on the same page. Husband and wife? your brain thinks automatically. You feel like you’re going to have to constantly kick yourself in the ass to make sure you don’t get ahead of yourself.

“Hmm,” you hum. “Well, you mentioned taking me out. Why don’t you ask me on a proper first date?”

“God, I haven’t done that since high school,” Eddie says.

“Didn’t they call it courting back then? You know, in the 1920’s?”

Eddie smirks and his hands instantly attach to your sides, tickling you until you’re a squealing, squirming mess below him.

“Okay, so how about for our first date I take you to the bingo hall?” Eddie’s flat voice makes you giggle even harder. You drop your forehead to his shoulder and cuddle your body closer to his.

“Nope,” you say, popping the p. “M’not 21 yet. Can't gamble.”

“Or drink,” Eddie realizes, his eyes widening. “Holy shit, I’m dating a Cabbage Patch Kid.”

A blush comes to your cheeks as you laugh, deciding not to point out that there is in fact a Cabbage Patch doll sitting in the corner of your room. “So, we’re dating, huh?”

“I guess we will be once I think of a perfect place to take you,” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“And ask me,” you remind him, raising your eyebrows.

“Right, right.” Eddie clears his throat. “Sweetheart, would you make me the happiest metal head this side of the Mississippi and accompany me on a date next Friday?”

Pursing your lips, you pretend to think his offer over. His eyes narrow at you as the silence stretches on.

“I would be honored, Edward.”

His nose wrinkles up at the formality of his full name. “Ugh, that sounds so snobby. Edward.”

“Hmm,” you tease. “How about Edwin? Edmund? Edgar?”

“Uh, no.”

“Oedipus?”

“Isn’t that the guy who fucked his mom and killed his dad?”

The rest of the night is like this; being silly and sneaking kisses as you cuddle up into each other. You feel so safe against Eddie’s chest, enveloped in his warmth. You start to drift off to sleep, but your rest is disrupted by his constant tossing and turning.

“Something on your mind?” You try to keep your voice light, but you can’t help the concern that seeps through.

Eddie slips his arm around your waist, thrumming his fingers along your hip. “Can’t stop thinking about my boys,” he murmurs. “I just wish they were here, too. Hate knowing that I won’t wake up in the morning to them fighting over Hot Wheels.”

You sigh, debating whether or not to tell him what you know. “I talked to Ryan today,” you begin, hoping you’re doing the right thing, “and he said that he wants to live with you. Not, um, her. He was sad that he and Luke had to stay in the house and not come with you.”

“Oh.” Eddie’s silent, processing what he’s just heard. “That makes me feel good, I guess. Too bad a judge won’t care.”

“What do you mean?” You prop yourself up on your elbow, facing him.

“She said that dads usually just get every other weekend, holidays, y’know,” he bites his lip nervously, and you kiss it to distract him. “I mean, I’m glad they don’t hate me, but it makes me sad that they’ll have to be with her if they don’t want to be.”

You shake your head. “Eddie, the boys–especially Ryan–are old enough that a judge will listen to what they want. And if they tell him or her that they’re more comfortable living with their dad, you might be able to get full custody.” He’s still quiet, so you press on. “I know you don’t want them being too involved in it, but it might be worth it if it means they get to be with you.”

Eddie caresses your cheek, a smile spreading across his face. “How do you always do this?”

“Do what?”

“Make me happy. Make me realize that everything will be okay.” He kisses your forehead lightly before yawning, finally able to relax. “I fuckin’ love you, baby. Sweet dreams.”

Waking up next to Eddie is the best feeling in the world. And he wasn’t lying about his morning…situation. You can feel his hard length pressing up against your thigh as he softly snores. You know you should probably wait until your first official date, but you haven’t stopped craving him since your last time together, back at the auto shop. Before you can stop yourself, you’re kissing his neck, the slight stubble that’s formed overnight scratching your cheek.

“Hey, sugar,” he murmurs sleepily. “What’s gotten into you, hm?”

“Missed you,” you manage, wrapping your leg around his so they’re intertwined.

He chuckles, voice groggy and deeper than usual. “Missed me? ‘M right here.” His eyebrows shoot up when you reach down and gently graze his morning wood. “Oh, shit,” he hisses, “baby, if you touch me there…”

“I know,” you say between kisses. “I want you to. Please.”

Eddie’s fingertips dig into your side. “Y’know I can’t turn you down when you beg for me like that,” he growls, hooking a finger into the waistband of your lace panties and tugging them off. Before you can ask him for more, he’s diving beneath the sheets, bringing his lips to your inner thighs, alternating between kissing, sucking, and biting.

“St-stop teasing me, Eds,” you whimper. He’s so fucking close to where you need him to be, yet too far away. You can see the outline of his head as he gives a little nod, plunging between your legs. He licks a stripe up your folds, breathing heavily as he tastes you.

“You’re fuckin’ delicious,” he says, words vibrating along your core. “Could eat this pussy for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, shit.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you say, one hand fisting your sheet as Eddie’s tongue licks up another stripe. The other hand snakes its way into his messy curls, and he moans when you pull his hair.

He brings his lips to your clit and sucks on it, grinning as he senses you writhing against him. “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” he teases, slipping a finger inside your aching sex.

“Fuck, Eddie,” you whine, trying not to buck up your hips, but your efforts are fruitless. Eddie’s on a mission to make you come as many times as he possibly can, and he’s making no attempt to hide it. You feel a second thick finger enter your pussy, stretching you slightly. His fingers pump in and out of you, his tongue keeping a relentless pace on your clit. The overstimulation from his mouth and hand pushes you over the edge, and you cry out his name over and over as you finish.

Eddie throws the sheet over his head, grinning widely. His chin is covered in your slick, and he wears it proudly. “That’s one,” he announces. “Ready for another?”

“Y-Yes, please.”

“Y’ask so nice for me, babe.”

Blushing at his sweet words, you turn your head to hide your face in your pillow. Eddie tuts and gently tugs your chin until you’re looking up at him again. He chuckles at your shy look, leaning down to press slow kisses along your throat.

“I love you, baby,” he mumbles against your skin.

“I love you too, Eddie.” You feel his hips align with yours, and your jaw drops open at the pleasurable stretch as he begins to push inside of you.

“Shit,” Eddie groans. “Missed your tight little pussy.”

Your fingers clutch at his back, nails sure to leave some raised pink scratches by the time you’re done. “S’big,” you moan. “Don’t know if I can take it all.”

“You can,” he reassures you, going in deeper until he bottoms out. “You’re gonna take it all f’me. ‘M gonna fill you up s’good. Just please, gotta let me move, baby doll.” His eyes are pleading, desperate to rut up inside you.

“Can move, Eddie,” you say, nodding your head. The words have barely left your lips before he’s withdrawing, just to thrust back into you. A gasp leaves your lips as he fills you to the hilt again. It may have only been about a week since you’d slept together, but it felt like an eternity without having him inside of you.

“Love you,” you say in between moans, and Eddie’s hips pick up the pace at your words.

“Love you, too. Fuck, baby, you keep saying that and this isn’t going to last as long as I want it to.” He huffs a breathy laugh and rests his forehead against yours.

“That a challenge?” you ask with a smirk.

“Uh uh,” Eddie says, shaking his head. “M’gonna make you come over and over.” As if to prove his point, he slips two fingers into your mouth, putting pressure on your tongue. “Get ‘em nice and wet for me, baby. I know what that pretty mouth can do.”

Slipping your eyes closed, you swirl your tongue around his fingers, moaning around his thick digits. You open your eyes and meet Eddie��s dark gaze, his attention focused solely on your face as his hips keep snapping against yours. Once you release his fingers with a sharp pop, he brings them down to your clit, rubbing in a tight circle.

A whine escapes your lips as you throw your head back, neck arching and exposed to the man above you. Eddie leans in and attaches his lips to the side of your throat, sucking and biting at the skin, determined to leave you with a mark that won’t fade any time soon.

“Close, Eddie,” you say, hands coming up to tangle in his long curly locks again.

“Come on, baby,” Eddie urges. “Gimme another one.”

You do as he says, arching your back and wrapping your legs around the bottom of his ass and pulling him even deeper inside you. “‘M coming, all f’you.” He nods, slowing his pace slightly and allowing you to come down slightly.

“S’fucking beautiful when you come on my cock,” he muses. “Want one more from you. Can you handle that? Just one more?”

“One more,” you murmur, already fucked out from two back-to-back orgasms.

“Thas’ my good girl.”

“C-Come with me this time?” you ask, voice hoarse. Tears prick at your eyes, and you wipe them away before he can notice.

“Aww,” Eddie coos, “did I wear my girl out?”

His taunting lights a fire inside you, and you smirk. “Actually, I want you deeper.”

“Fuck,” he throws his head back, withdrawing from you. He chuckles darkly when you hiss at the loss. “The faster you get on your hands and knees, the faster I can be back inside you.”

Muscles weak and protesting the movement, you force yourself to ignore it and do as Eddie says. His hands grab your hips, rough calloused fingers running over your smooth skin.

“Mm, what a nice view,” Eddie admires as he removes one hand from your body to line his cock up with your hole. He teases you, sliding his length up and down your slit as you drop your head forward. Your whines only encourage him as he watches your hole flutter around nothing.

“Please, Eddie,” you beg.

“Anything for my needy girl,” Eddie says, and you don’t need to be looking at him to know there’s a smirk on his face. He slides back inside of you and your arms give out, upper body landing on your pillow. Your fingers scratch at your purple pillowcase as he slams into you. The repeated motion of his hips has the headboard banging against the wall and his heavy balls slapping against your clit.

“Fuck, baby,” you breathe out. “So deep. So, so deep.”

“Tell me how it feels, princess. How’s it make my girl feel?” Eddie’s hand grabs onto your ass and slides it up your back.

“So full,” you answer. “Love when you’re inside me.” The pressure of him against your walls has you clenching around his length. “Spank me, Eddie. I’ve been a bad girl.”

Eddie’s hips stutter; you’ve never caught him off-guard like this before. His palm meets your ass with a small whack, but it’s nothing compared to what you need.

“No, harder. You won’t hurt me.”

A string of swear words slips from his lips as he smacks the fat of your ass with more power, leaving a stinging print. “More?” But he can’t follow through before he stammers, “fuck—shit—‘m coming.” His dick twitches, and he moans as he finishes. “Come with me; want you to cream my cock while I fuck you full of me. Want you to take all my cum, thassagoodgirlfuckfuckfuck.” He spills into you, continuing to thrust. “Take it, take it all. So fuckin’ good f’me, taking all my cum. Bet you want me to knock you up, don’t you?” The words leave his mouth before he can catch them.

The thought of having Eddie’s baby normally makes you feel all kinds of ways; imagining him tenderly kissing your bump or staring at your newly-larger breasts in awe. It’s all pretend for now, at least until you graduate.

Thank God for birth control, you think. But then your whole body freezes up.

In all of last night’s excitement, you’d forgotten to take your pill.

“Shit!” you cry out, pulling away from him. But it’s too late; you can feel his release dripping down your leg. You turn to him, misty-eyed, and explain the situation.

“Don’t cry, pretty girl,” Eddie smiles, laying down and motioning for you to snuggle into his chest. “Would it be so bad? Having my baby?”

You shake your head. “I-I want your baby,” you admit, “but I gotta get my degree, get a job…” You gaze up at him incredulously. “You really mean it when you say you wanna get me pregnant? It’s not just dirty talk?”

Eddie laughs, putting his arm around you and pulling you closer. “Baby, if you only knew how many times I’ve gotten off thinkin’ about knocking you up…” He clicks his tongue. “Turns me on so…damn…bad…” he muses, punctuating the last three words with kisses to your neck.

“Easy there; you just wore me out,” you giggle. “We should be okay. I can take two now, and I’m just a few days from getting my period.” You laugh harder when he frowns. “Don’t tell me you’re grossed out by periods!”

“No, but we can’t…y’know, practice making a baby while…” he pouts, and you tuck his hair behind his ears.

“I don’t mind a little mess if you don’t,” you shrug. “Besides, orgasms help with cramps.”

His eyes light up. “Consider me your personal heating pad, then.”

You roll your eyes and swing your legs out of bed. “C’mon, we promised the boys we’d take them to the park.”

Eddie groans, overdramatically, and holds his hands over his heart as if he’s been shot. “You found it, baby. Literally the only thing that could get me out of bed with you.”

This time when you roll your eyes, there’s a fond smile on your face as well. “I’m sure the boys would be glad to know that they’re prioritized over getting laid.”

“Well, first of all,” Eddie says as he scoops up his boxers from where they’d be kicked on the floor. “It’s not just getting laid. It’s having sex with you. Totally different, we’re making love now. Officially!” His face radiates joy as he jumps around, sliding his boxers up. “Because, you know, you said you love me and all. Remember that?”

Turning around from where you were digging some underwear out of your drawer, you put your hands on Eddie’s chest and smile up at him, placatingly. “I do remember. And I remember you saying you love me too. But the boys are still more important.”

Eddie laughs and presses a kiss to your hair. “They’ll understand when they’re older.”

Playfully, you shove him off of you, which only makes him grab you around the waist and pull you up against his body. You’re squealing as you try to get away from him, to collect your clothes for the day. But, unable to shake him, you settle for him helping you get dressed.

“Can I stay here until the Harrington quarantine is lifted?” he asks, suddenly shy.

You wrap your arms around his waist, pressing your chest to his. “Baby, you can stay here forever.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #AYW #AYWs #older!eddie #babysitter!reader

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themotherofhorses · 10 months

Text

pairing: aemond targaryen x handmaid!reader

summary: “she’s a bastard—‘innit the truth, mother?”

warnings: explicit language. angst. much angst. nothing but angst. i cannot stress it enough.

notes: well this is rather unfortunate.

his handmaid's tales | main masterlist

The raven arrives at nightfall, at an hour so late that only Aemond is awake to accept it. The princeling could not find sleep that night, instead rolling off the bed and crossing the chambers to his windows, before pulling back the heavy tapestries and throwing them open one by one.

The cool air is a welcoming feeling to his feverish skin, hot to the touch from hours of lovemaking under the sheets.

He stands facing the darkness, naked and at utter peace, in pure happiness. His precious girl sleeps soundly behind him, with the thick furs pulled up to her chin, hiding the most of her beneath the blankets. She is so utterly beautiful in the moonlight. It’s been three long months since his sons were born, and Aemond was beginning to hope his seed would again take. His loins ache at the thought, and he fights the sudden urge to slip in between her thighs. Perhaps she’d give him a daughter this time.

In his dreams, she wears her mother’s face, in a gown of Targaryen colors with a dragon hatchling sitting on her shoulder. She pokes him awake in the morning, and pleads for a quick ride atop Vhagar before grandmother arrives to begin her history lessons.

His daughter has his love’s eyes and smile, he thinks again, and her nose scrunches up in the same way hers does.

I want it.

He shakes his head.

Let her rest, you fool.

When the black raven arrives at his windowpane, he is a bit confused. He waves the bird away before it could make another squawk, and stares down at the scroll taken from it, eying the blood-red ribbon tied into a pretty, tight knot around. In his head, he weighs the choices in taking it as his own. Should he…? Or should he not? His curiosity clashes with his righteousness.

Aemond decides to, in the end.

He takes the scroll to his desk, quietly lighting a small candle before taking a seat and unrolling it out to read. The writing is in pretty cursive yet smells of cheap ink, with a slight smudge staining the edge of the paper. It is addressed to his handmaid, he realizes, starting with her name that leads to a sweet congratulations on her newfound motherhood. Twins, your uncle had said. How marvelous to hear. I hope to meet them soon, my dear.

With all the love in this lifetime—your mother, Alys Rivers.

“With all the love in this lifetime,” he repeats aloud, shaking his head, refusing to believe. His fingers tighten around the letter, the tips turning a jarring white. “Your mother, Alys Rivers.”

Aemond then glares up at the woman lying in his bed, a bitter twist on his mouth. She shifts a little bit beneath his gaze, but remains relaxed and asleep and blissfully ignorant of the rising anger sparking deep inside him.

Who is she? For the first time since he met her, he asks himself that.

He should’ve suspected this.

“A bastard, Lord Beesbury, mothered by the daughter of a milk cow.”

Aemond turns away from her, back to the darkness outside.

Her mother is a bastard rivers woman, it seems. At least that is how it reads. Alys Rivers. She carries no man’s last name in her letter. What is her daughter, if not the same as her? He picks at his mind, trying to remember if she ever mentioned her father. Aemond returns to staring up at the moon and the white stars blinking high above in the midnight sky.

He suddenly feels no desire to return to bed with her tonight.

But she is the mother of your children, his mind argues, and it leaves him irritated.

She’s given him two heirs, his first-born children, beautiful twin boys that are mirrors to their own father, himself. And the daughter he’s dreamt of…But…they’re bastards too, he then reminds himself. You love them the same way you love her, do not lie to yourself. It was not enough to ease his thoughts, and reason with him, and stop the ugly bitterness from rising in his throat.

Damn her.

Aemond stuffs the letter inside one of the desk drawers, not wishing to lay eyes on it again. Maybe he’ll burn it later in the day. He then shrugs on his robe, tying it around his waist, before leaving the room. She’ll wake up in the morning, and search for his hand buried within the sheets. When she realizes she is alone in the bed, he knows she will pout before readying to tend to her babies, like the mother he’s made her into.

Damn her.

Then she will move on to her responsibilities, like the silly, dumb handmaid she is.

Damn her.

That is all she should’ve remained, Aemond thinks, curiously calm as he strides down the hallway. He doesn’t know where he is going, but he knows he will not return this night. Bastards never amount to anything else.

Aemond hasn’t spoken to her in three days, dismissing his handmaid from his bedchamber before he retires for the evening. She no longer fetches his hot baths or crawls beneath the blankets with him. He hasn’t allowed it. He avoids the nursey too, where he knows his twin sons sleep in their cots, too young to notice their father’s absence. Aemond walks the halls of the Red Keep, as he has walked a thousand times before, but disregards all the rooms where he knows her presence painfully lingers.

She does not fight nor question him. He knows she won’t.

“Aemond.”

He hears her voice in his slumber, always- sometimes in a breathless whisper, and most times in a scream, or a whimper, or an anguished howl. She always manages to find him, following him into his dreams and nightmares and antagonizing him into insanity. Her shadow stands over his bed. And around her neck dangles the sapphire necklace, while her pretty eyes weep both tears and blood.

“Aemond, please!” she cries, bawling up the sides of her dress in her fist. The plain cloth is stained in dried blood, splashed across her belly and thighs. “Aemond, please, I need you, husband!”

“AEMOND.”

This time tonight, it causes Aemond Targaryen to jerk upright, pulled from a horrible nightmare that still clouds his thoughts. The sheets are tangled between his fingers, and his heart is heaving heavily within his breast. He hears her voice echoing, begging for her husband. “Aemond.” His attention quickly darts to the door, where his mother stands, tall and regal and noticeably pissed. She calls his name again loudly. Although still groggy, he stumbles his way towards her.

His mother does not greet him. Instead, her brown eyes remain on his empty bed, skimming across the sheets and the way the heavy fur blanket nearly hangs off the foot of his bed. He must’ve kicked it off him during his sleep.

She frowns at the sight, before looking back at him.

“So it is true, then.”

Aemond rubs at his eye, tilting his head in confusion. “What is true, mother?”

“That she hasn’t been seen in your room for the past three days; instead, she’s returned to her old room across the castle, where the other maids sleep. Three days, and three nights.” His mother spoke in anger, yet her face remained a mask that betrayed nothing. It is one thing he greatly admired about her, in the same way it terrified him the most. “And you haven’t visited your sons as well, I’m told.”

He flushes. “I’ve been busy,” he grumbles, shifting on his bare feet. “I’ll see them tomorrow, in the morning after we break fast together.”

“Tomorrow? You’ll see them tomorrow? AEMOND!” she shouts, incredulous. Her hair hangs loosely around her face, and she pushes a thick strand behind her right ear. “You wanted these babies so badly, and yet you are beginning to neglect them before their second nameday. Have you lost all fucking sense?!”

Aemond bites his tongue in an attempt to keep his own temper from flaring up in response to her yelling. He says nothing in return, which he knows only upsets his mother further.

“What has happened, Aemond?” she asks. “This is unlike you. You love those boys, and that girl too.”

“Nothing,” he says, a bit too quickly. “Nothing has happened. I’ve simply been too busy to play anymore games with her.”

“Games? Games?! That is all shit,” his mother blazes. “Utter shit. Do not begin to take me as a fucking fool, Aemond. I am not your father, and I am not your brother, and eldest sister either. Now you tell me, boy, what has happened.”

Aemond sighs. “She’s a bastard—‘innit the truth, mother?” He meets her eyes and feels his poor heart sinking at the silent shock that instantly falls across her features and the way she makes no move to deny it. “A bastard.” Saying it aloud, it makes him wish to return to his bed, and curl up in his sheets, completely hidden from this cruel world that damned him to fall in love with a stupid bastard girl. “A damn, no good, bastard girl from Harrehnal—”

But he is then cut off by a sharp backhand blow to the side of his face that quickly sends him stumbling two steps back, almost falling hard against the wall. Aemond holds his cheek, breath hitching as he brushes a tender finger against the already reddening skin that he knows will surely show a dark bruise on the morrow. It feels hot, and it stings. He looks up at his mother, who has never hit him before.

“How dare you speak of her in such a way,” she spits, purpled with rage. Her hand twitches at her side, as if she itches to slap him again. He deserves it, he thinks. “HOW DARE YOU. She is the mother of your children, and you dare behold her with such loathing venom?”

“AND YOU DID NOT THINK TO TELL ME BEFOREHAND?” he shouts back, half hurt from the realization that she watched him fall smitten with the bastard, and never thought to tell him the truth. “She is the cousin of those bastards that took my eye, their own blood!”

“And? It is the truth, yes, that she is a riverlands bastard, born to a woman at Harrenhal. Lord Larys is her true uncle, who brought her to us at my request. But damn you, Aemond, that girl is so fucking in love with you.”

All his words fall stuck in his throat, and he fails to push them out.

“Have you nothing more to say?”

His queen mother sniffs when he says nothing, shaking her head. “Unbelievable. Perhaps it is best she drinks the moon tea, lest she gives you another child that you won’t love nor appreciate because of its mother’s unfortunate bastardy.” Aemond remains silent, and her mouth drops into another scowl. “You lied to me when you promised that you would never be your father or Aegon.”

I am not, he wants to scream out. His knees buckle in weakness at her cruel words, and the sheer disappointment laced within them. It hurts worse than her slap.

I love her so much, I swear, and my boys too. I love anything she gives me, and I promise…I promise…I promise…

“You, Aemond, carry their eyes and hair and nose, everyone can see. But I know the truth now—you carry their pig attitude as well,” she remarks, pushing herself toward him. “I’ll send her back to her mother, I promise, and find another handmaid for you, one that is to your liking.”

She says not another word, instead turning to the houseguard that had accompanied her to his hall. “I’m tired. Please help me back to my bedchamber,” she asks, pressing her fingertips against his temple. “I would appreciate such, my good knight.”

His mother leaves him silent and still, sad and scared and helpless and heartbroken, staring down at his toes as they grow damp from his tears.

tag list for "his handmaid's tales": @aemondsblog @dc-marvel-girl96 @neobanguniverse @missalycat21 @enchantingcupcakecollectionfan @padfooteyes @alexizodd @avidreader73 @the-common-cowgirl @inlovewithhisblueeyes @elegantsplendour @katzarantos @fan-goddess @okfashionista @randomdragonfires @aemvnd @mochimommy2002 @fangirlninja67 @iiamthehybrid @bellstwd @katzarantos @crazymusicgirl104

taglist for everything aemond: @randomdragonfires @aemvnd @moonteas @chompchompluke

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond the kinslayer #handmaid!reader #his handmaid’s tales #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #hotd fanfic #vic writes 🧸

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lyomeii · 9 months

Text

the new duchess ronan

-> warnings: yandere themes, reader is called ‘mom’ and ‘mother’, mentioned abuse towards Charlize, reader literally dying of sadness in the first timeline, duke being jealous, gaslighting, reader gets sad and desperate.

-> request by anon! Hi! Can you do yandere Duke Ronan and new Duchess Ronan reader who always protects Charlize from her brothers and father? And when she decides to run away with Charlize, but Duke Ronan knows the plan. Thank you

-> a/n: I see…you got a type in man, don’t you anon? jk asides, it’s really fun to have someone requesting Duke Ronan and quite unexpected too. it’s was fun to write this.

-> a second marriage was a surprising news for everyone, specially the children of the dukedom who jaws were in the floor seeing their stepmother entering the living room with a smile in the face and gifts on the hands. they were suspicious at first, but quickly they warmed up with your presence, include the youngest of them, charlize.

-> the platinum blonde girl loved having you around, having someone that finally cares about her is more than enough to make Charlize happy with your arrival and rapidly, she began calling you ‘mom’. holding your hands whatever she wants with you, wanting to be carried once is possible and receive goodnight kisses from you every night.

-> those things are the main reasons she was happier, more alive and more comfortable to be out of her bedroom. there was no denying that you and the youngest ronan had a special relationship despite the many attempts from your husband and sons to break it. so it’s easy to say that you became a sobbing mess once Charlize suddenly disappeared.

-> not receiving any news from her whereabouts after that day she left the dukedom with a kiss and hug from you changed you completely. the gazebo where you spend time with her slowly ruined as you just sit there, deluding yourself that she would hug you from behind or maybe that she would call you from her bedroom to see something she just got.

-> you became a shallow version of yourself after losing your sweet daughter. the servants notice how you refuse to eat most of the time and your remaining family see how you stayed in charlize chambers when there was nothing to do. as much they tried to help you, nothing changed as you just rest down on your shared bedroom. waiting for your final breath.

—

duke ronan’s hand was gentle when removing the locks of hair away from yours eyes, making it possible to see him sitting next to your figure. a smile on his face as you take notice of him.

“what do you want?” your voice is harsh, no longer a sweet tone. and your eyes are cold now. “I already told you to leave me alone.”

despite your words against him, the man pressed a kiss on your forehead as he holds one of your hands. he is afraid of losing you, his eyes can show it to you and feeling him shaking in fear is also another way to notice it. he tried a lot of things and yet, nothing brought your health back, not even magic.

your skin is no longer warm, it’s felt almost like touching a cold stone from the garden, but he still loves you deeply. this man has fallen in love with so much that he is willing to give anything to make you happier, however, there is nothing he can do to brought your health back.

“I’m just checking your state, my dear.” he smiles, feeling your touch in his hands. “The boys are becoming even more worry about you, it’s been a while since you got up from bed.”

“whatever.” you rolled your eyes and took your hands away from him, wanting to be alone for longer. he should knows better than trying to act as the good guy after what he did with charlize before she disappeared. “I want to be alone, now leave.”

—

-> your death was a peaceful one, you were sleeping once happened, making your departure less painful. in the end, you believed that you would enter a eternal rest alongside others that you once loved…that was a naive thing to believed.

-> like it was just a bad dream, you suddenly wake up back in the past. not longer having those empty and lifeless eyes nor those fragile bones due the malnutrition, you are back to that young and happily version of yourself…could this mean that charlize is back too?

-> there was no time to waste as you rapidly got up from bed, not caring if you are wearing your pajamas nor the maids screaming from your name all over the halls, they don’t really matter. once you open her bedroom door to see your precious daughter sleeping, a smile grown in your face and immediately, you went to kiss and hug her numerous times, in the process you ended up waking up the girl.

-> of course, charlize was as much surprise as you are. to come back in time is one thing, but having her mother alongside is another and that made her so happy. the two of you began spending more time together than ever before, making your husband infuriating about it.

-> he began asking why you spend more time with your stepdaughter than your own husband. it’s clear as water that he was jealous of his own daughter, making you angry at him for it. how could a grown man act this way? an argument start between the two of you only to pause when his sons step in to separate their father away from you, making things even more difficult now.

-> then things start getting even more problematic, guards began escorting you whatever place you are and the duke himself always make you have all the meals with him and his own sons. the only reason you attend it is because charlize is there, quiet as mouse, but at least she is there to make things more easier and bearable, even though the others are visible of her presence.

-> soon, it’s time to charlize leave to work as one the prince’s tutor and of course, you are planning to come with her. the whole process was supposed to be secret and quiet one, just to make sure the duke won’t be suspicious or angry at the two of you. it was a good plan until akan (the first brother) discovery that you were planning to run away.

-> there was no deny that he was furious about you leaving him, dante (the second brother) and his own father behind! how could you do such thing to them? the boy began to tear up and this brought everyone’s attention towards you, even making the duke and dante coming to your direction. at least, charlize made her escape when everyone was going crazy about your failed attempt of escaping.

-> the duke, of course, yelled at you for acting like this. a mixed of anger and sadness was in voice as he lectured you for being reckless in acting this way. he gave you everything! a home, money, expensive gifts and a loving family, then you throw everything away just to abandon it because of charlize? the man is now desperate.

-> locking you inside the manor with multiple maids and guards following, making sure you won’t try to run away from the duke and his sons. transforming you in a prisoner of the same place you called home for years. as the very same man who promised to love you become the one responsible for your imprisonment.

-> life slowly become boring, there isn’t much thing to do as your husband locked you inside and even your own sons don’t let you step in the garden for fresh air, so it didn’t take much time you become that old version of yourself, the one that don’t care about anything or anyone.

-> the three men, of course, are desperate seeing you becoming a shallow version of yourself. you become unable to walk as meal stop being eating, not walking anyone as you refuse to get up from bed and the curtains closed to prevent the sunlight enter your bedroom. this made them so worry about you.

-> and now you are struck in a wheelchair until you get healthy enough to walk on your own, and dante (feeling a little guilty of it) always accompany you to daily walks around the garden with a smile on his lips. sometimes akan and the duke join, but mostly, it’s just you and your youngest son.

-> the duke brings breakfast on the bed, being the one to feed you when you refuse to pick the utensil or when you can’t barely stare at him. seeing you eating the little amount of food from the tray is already much a win for the nobleman, after all, you didn’t eat anything before.

-> in the afternoon, akan visits you whatever he is free, reading you a book and even introduce his wife to you. the girl is lovely, that’s for sure, the sweet smile on her face and desire to become a mother is truly inspiring. it’s sad that she and akan got into that argument one night, it was quite sad seeing that women crying at your lap and slowly realize that she might become like you.

———————————————————————————

@lyomeii stuff || don’t repost

#yandere headcanon #yandere imagine #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere male #manhwa x reader #yandere manhwa #manhwa imagine #i tamed a tyrant and ran away #i tamed a tyrant and ran away x reader #yandere duke ronan #Duke Ronan x reader #charlize ronan x reader #charlize x reader #yandere charlize Ronan #x female reader #female reader #x female y/n

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my-love-is-sunlight · 3 months

Text

Red satin and a sundress

Sanji x gardener!reader

Warnings: Fluff, confession, angry reader (just for a moment) fem reader

Word count: 1,944 words

Summary: In which Sanji confesses his love for you but you don’t understand what’s happening. From my gardener!reader series but can be read as a stand alone

˖°𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧.𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

“Are you afraid?” Yo dropped your pencil, turned eyes wide and a gasp escaped your mouth “Robin you scared me half to death!” You collected the pencil from the floor as the woman sat in front of you with a coffee mug in hand “Are you?” You looked at her puzzled “Afraid of what?” Robin motioned her head to where you were once glancing before she made you jump in your seat, the cook serving an afternoon drink to Nami “Sanji?” You laughed “The only man that scares me a little in this ship is probably Zoro” you said while looking back at your notebook “I meant, are you afraid to love, y/n?” Robin asked while pointing at the sketch of the blonde you had made beside your annotations. Red colored your face, hands sweaty “Quite the contrary actually… but him” you glanced at Sanji again as he swooned around the annoyed navigator “I don’t think he likes me the way I do, I just happen to be a woman and he happens to love them” the black haired woman giggled as you looked at her confused once more “If you allowed to open yourself to him, I’m sure you’ll change your mind…”

So you did

You talked and talked to Sanji, spending time together, flirting back every now and then even if it made you mad nervous and making sure he noticed how you’ll treat him differently from the rest, you were patient, understanding and caring. Of course he didn’t stop being a huge flirt with every single woman he’ll stumble upon on, but he did something more meaningful for you , he made you a space in his heart. He would tell you about his dream, his passions, his past and just all about him, parts no one else saw but you, as well as he saw parts of you one else did, and eventually Sanji realized that love wasn’t always loud and over the top, love was looking at your person and feeling safe, warm and at peace. So yeah maybe he would skip and spin while serving Robin a coffee and would make heart eyes whenever Nami addressed him, but with you, he was himself and nothing else.

“Are you coming to the Island?” You were leaning in the door frame of the kitchen, Sanji jumped, he was seated at the counter with a cooking book in hand absolutely lost in thought “Oh Flower! Didn’t see you there” he closed it immediately as he saw you standing in the room “No dear I… I’m staying to keep watch on the ship!” You frowned.

This last week the cook had been acting quite strange, whenever you wanted to initiate a conversation he would cut it short, whenever your hands brushed he would back up, his eyes wouldn’t even cross your way. This was absolutely weird behavior considering you two were considerably more close than anyone in the crew, you hoped to talk to him about the matter during a walk around the Island “But you always restock the fridge” you walked closer which made him flinch “I gave the stupid moss head the list of things we need, I’ll wait here!” a piercing silence filled the room, he felt distant “Sanji what’s wro-“ you were loudly interrupted by Luffy who barged in “Y/n!!! Are you coming or not?”

“Yes, I guess I am”

Did you smell? Did you said or do something wrong? Did you looked uglier? Was there something different? Was he bored of you? He was probably all this time super sweet to you for mere entertainment right? A million questions overwhelmed you, you just couldn’t place what had possibly changed between you two.

“Y/n? Are you even listening?” After buying new plants and seeds for the garden, you decided to join Nami and Robin at the local boutique, you needed a distraction but it seemed you were the one distracting yourself “Is there something wrong?” Robin asked quite worried, you shook your head and tried to brush it off but your hands grew green moss and sharp roses, you couldn’t hide your emotions even if you tried. The two girls shared a look, they respected your decision to not talk about the matter and they were not gonna pressure you to say anything you didn’t want to “How about we find you a new sundress?” Nami smiled your way “Nah, I’m a gardener, dresses are not very practical”

But you underestimated the navigators persuasive abilities, now you had tried 6 dresses already, none of them convincing enough for your friend. You heard Robin’s muffled laugh coming form outside the dresser “I had never seen such a serious hunt for a dress” you sighed “Tell me about it” yet another dress appeared hanging in the door behind you “Ow c’mon you guys this is fun! I’m having fun” Nami defended. You tried on the next dress and for your surprise it planted a smile on your face, it was red and it tied with a delicate bow in the front, giving apace to show all the beautiful jewelry you always wore around your neck, with short princess like puffy sleeves with an opening in the side of your legs that showed a white fabric with red flowers under it. As you came out of the dresser and spinned around for your friends, it was like you had completely forgotten about the cook “I am amazingggg” Robin clapped at Namis incredible styling skills “Are you sure you still want to be a pirate?” You asked her, smile wide “I can be a pirate AND a stylist” she winked

You decided to head back to the Sunny, inevitably insecurity made its way trough your stomach, you still weren’t ready to face Sanji about whatever the hell he had going on. You arrived and to your surprise there was no sight of him, you thought he was keeping an eye on the ship… you payed it no mind and went to your room to cool off for the day. After putting your shopping away, you decided to slip on the red sundress and have a little picnic by yourself, picking the fresh fruit from your garden and reading while sitting in the sunset sounded like a perfect plan for you… but it seemed like someone beat you to it.

As you walked closer to the garden delicious smells filled your senses, it made you close your eyes in enjoyment and took in a big breath, confused but curious you looked for the source of the smell. There standing next to two beautiful plated dinners in a picnic blanket, a rose and a candle in the middle of the food and drinks already poured in was Sanji, who played with nervous hands with the ring you had gifted him that now hanged form his neck. He looked handsomely dressed in coincidentally a red satin shirt, buttons loosened up, sleeves were up showing his strong arms, formal black pants and he had gelled his hair back enough to show both of his ocean blue eyes that enchanted you and most importantly no cigarette in sight! “Sanji? What the hell is happening?” The blonde cook surely didn’t expected you to show up in such a beautiful dress, mouth agape he stuttered “I.. uhm” you got closer and dismissed the book in your hands, now you really could witness how nervous the man was, cheeks and ears red and shaky breath.

You looked… upset? confused? Sanji couldn’t place the look in your face, he was already nervous looking at you and now he felt sick as he witnessed your brows scrunch together at his sight “I made this for you” was all he could let out, but you couldn’t even look at the scenery as you frantically searched for his gaze “Are you serious?” You let out a sarcastic laugh “You really think I’m just gonna ignore the fact you suddenly started to avoid me like the plague and was just overall rude to me just because you did a picnic for me?!” What? “What?” He didn’t understand what was happening, him rude? To you? That sounded atrocious. All around you the plants in the garden grew and surrounded your figure “I am not just one of your lady friends thats gonna fall for your stupid games Sanji. If you really think you can just ignore me because you got bored of me and then try and win me back with a flirty date night you’re out of your mind”

Then everything clicked in the cooks mind, he had indeed messed up. He had been planing this whole thing for so long, down to every last detail that being around you made him nervous and he would’ve quite probably spoiled everything, so he didn’t notice how to you, who had no clue about what was happening, his behavior may have came across as rude. You shook your head, you didn’t even wanted answers anymore “This is stupid” as you tried to turn around and leave, Sanji stopped you by pulling your wrist which made you stumble into his embrace; as he held you close you could listen to his heart and swore you could feel it against your own skin, it was pounding like crazy “It would be impossible for me to treat you like a simple fling my love, for me you’re my forever”

Now the one nervous and embarrassed was you, his voice echoed through his chest as you started to realize what was actually going on, the plants that once surrounded you now gone “I was so busy trying to make this picnic perfect for you that I didn’t notice how I was acting, the mere thought of you made my heart stop” you stepped back a little to look at his face, Oh~ “I’m really really stupid aren’t I?” You whispered as your face matched the color of both your garments, your head had played terrible tricks on you, the blonde just laughed “Sunlight, were both stupid” time seemed to had stopped around you, Sanji had positioned one hand in your lower back while the other held your face, yours intertwined with his chest. Suddenly everything seemed to make sense, you were supposed to he right there right in that moment; In the Sunny that held your dearest memories and favorite people, with waves that crashed in like an old tune, in your sacred garden your safe place, sunset shining from behind the man you had poured your heart out to making him look like a being of light and warmth, you had dreamt of this “You know what would be pretty stupid of us?” your lips brushed as you stand on your tip toes “If we didn’t kissed” you said before closing the space between you.

And finally you kissed him, like a so long awaited promise you had made yourselves finally coming true, your hands traveled to the back of his neck to deepened the kiss, as if you didn’t wanted him to run away. Your breaths danced with the breeze of the ocean as your hearts felt finally full, flowers bloomed from your head and hands inter-wining Sanji with you. You gasped for air and broke the kiss, your eyes immediately looking for one another, comfortable silence and sweet smiles in front of the sunset was all that could be heard, before Sanji spoke “Could you please break this spell you’ve casted upon me, and please be mine?”

“Yes, yes I can”

And finally you could confidently say that you are not afraid to love, as long as it’s him

˖°𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧.𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Omg I wrote this like 3 different times but here it is they finally said it WOOO. Like always feel free to suggest scenarios for these two idiots and correct me if I made any mistakes English is not my first language 🫶🏻

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manias-wordcount · 7 months

Text

Lost and Found (William James Moriarty)

Kinktober 2023 Day Seven: Body Worship

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

“Hello…it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Deep down inside, there’s a part of you that is trying to convince the rest of you that the man before you is familiar.

“Do you perhaps…remember me, my dear?”

More so than just another nobleman you would pass by on the street. But the night is cold and faces and shapes and colors tend to blur in the rain. You have seen many of men walking along these streets. And very rarely do they pay attention to you aside from the occasional drunken pass and snide remark. So it would only make sense that the first noble that went out of his way to touch you- that willingly grabbed your wrist- would feel a least a little bit striking to the memory. It would also make sense that this same nobleman would start telling you lies and stories about how he knew you from long, long ago. Before he had lost you. It would make perfect sense. Perfect sense. Yet it doesn’t.

Because somehow this encounter has led to you sitting in a dark room in his residency as he kneels in front of you and whispers sweet praises into your skin.

You’re a fool to let a stranger convince you. You’re a fool to trust a nobleman as well. But when a man with striking red eyes holds your hand so gently and says your name so quietly, it’s hard to find it in yourself to say no as he offers you a place to escape this cruel, rainy night. There would be no one around to save you if something went wrong. There would be no one around to care about you if you went missing. Yet you still took his arm when he offered it to you. You still fell step in step with him as he pulled you into his side and walked you down a few dark streets. Ones that you were unfamiliar with. Ones that made you feel as though you didn’t belong here. That you didn’t belong anywhere.

And yet, he still opened the door to his residency for you, like you were a gentlewoman- deserving of his kindness. He still ushered you with promises of a nice cup of tea and a spot in front of a warm fire- like you were truly an old friend. And he helped you strip out of your soaking wet outer layers before removing his own hat and coat with the absolute softest look in his crimson eyes- like you were his to nurture. His to care for. His to protect.

You grew very silent after that. The stranger noticed but he didn’t address it. Instead, he just directed you to the sitting room with a hand placed on the small of your back. He touches you often. You recognized that the very first moment you had run into him. You notice it even more now that he has just helped you settle into a chair with hands that seemed to linger a little too long on your waist. And even as he parted from you to get the nearly dead fire ignited for you now, you can still recall all the guiding little touches and holds you received in just the few moments you’ve known this man.

And yet, you aren’t afraid. You’re just lost.

So, so very lost.

He knows this though. The stranger- the man who claims to know you- he knows this. You can see it in his expression when he turned back to you. You can see it up close as he walks towards you with another gentle smile on his face. It’s so peaceful. So disarming. You’re still a little cold. Your tights are a bit soaked. Your boots are full of water. And your dress still clings to your skin. But when he looks at you like that? When he looks at you like you’re worth his time.

It makes it very hard to say no to him. Very, very hard.

“Forgive me,” He requested to you in a quiet murmur as he got down on the floor in front of you and reached his hands towards your boots. The second his long, pale fingers brush against your boots. you draw back in instinctive surprise. But the man is quick to reach out and grab at one of your legs before you can escape him. Though for a second afterward, all is quiet. All is still. The stranger in front of you’s face has taken a bit of an alarmed expression. Almost as if he surprised himself with his own actions. But then his eyes casts down and a bitter smile grows upon your face. “But I can hardly contain my excitement now that you’re here. Louis would be most pleased to see you again.”

He begins to tie your boots. Before you can even question him. Before you even can ask what he means. He pulls at the strings, and he loosens them more and more and more until finally- your shoe is able to slip off. He’s slow as he moves. He’s graceful. Letting his long, blonde hair hang over his face. Letting his pale, beautiful skin reach for you and touch the items that you just own. Your commoner items.

Your face warms.

You feel embarrassed. You feel ashamed. You’re far too beneath this man to be sitting her like this. Sinking into this plush, comfortable chair that you know is expensive enough all the food you could ever need to fill your starving little stomach. It’s so soft beneath you. Just like his fingers are just gentle as they close around your shoe and pull it off slowly- inch by inch until finally, it falls free with a dull clump. All for him to turn his head and direct his attention to your other shoe. All for him to turn his head and to follow the same routine. Like you’re deserving of it. Like you’re deserving of anything at all.

And when all is said and done? When both shoes are off and your feet are free from their cold, wet confines. He reaches forward once more. Slowly. Slowly. Slowly. He reaches forward and you draw in your breath and you squeeze your eyes shut. Because this time, you know that there’s very little that he could be reaching for. Because this time, it’s very little reason for his fingers to be stretching out searching for what’s hidden beneath the skirt of your dress. Because this time, you knew what was coming. What was finally coming when you deal with a nobleman like him? Too kind to be honest. Too lovely to be pure.

A man is a man is a man. No matter how blue his blood may be.

So just as you expected, the long pale fingers that had just disappeared beneath your dress have found their way to the very tops of your stockings and pulled down. And just as you expected, the stranger seemed very pleased with your quiet willingness as you adjusted your weight and let him strip you of them. Slowly, slowly, slowly they roll down your legs, exposing bare skin to the stranger’s unholy gaze. You bit at your lips. You squeeze your eyes shut. But you do not fight it. You knew it was coming. From the moment you took his hand tonight, you knew. You do not fight it. You do not cry. But you do brace yourself for the inevitable.

Except, it never came.

Your mouth parts in surprise at the feeling, but the words that need to come out sit in your throat and they struggle. They struggle and they struggle and they struggle as if words were never yours to begin with. Or perhaps, they struggle because they do were surprised that a man such as he would take such great care to ensure his lips would know every inch of your skin.

You feel lost. You feel so lost and that he must have lost it. You had never encountered such behavior before. You had never encountered a man so willing to mix with the likes of someone like you. Never. But for some reason, you still don’t protest. For some reason, you still don’t speak. And for some reason?

He still continues to press his mouth against your skin.

You had heard from other girls who were taken to noblemen’s houses on nights like these before. You heard stories of rough, cruel men picking up someone defenseless and cold and wet- someone like you- only to treat them so harshly during such a delicate act of intimacy. All to send them on their way with a little money for their trouble. A little something to keep their secrets.

But that is not your story. This is not your rough, cruel man. It’s not. Where in those stories did those girls talk about what to do when the nobleman remains on his knees just to kiss the crown of yours? Where in those stories did those girls talk about how to feel when the nobleman starts speaking into your skin words and compliments and praises that are far too gentle, far too kind to be said to you? Oh, where in those stories did those girls talk about handsome young men with expressions so kind as they speak your name as if they truly know you? All to lead you back to their home and dance their fingers across your skin. To tell you how much they missed you. To tell you how much they longed for you. Searched for you. Hoped for your safe return. Where in those stories did the other girls talk about that?

Nowhere.

Because those aren’t your stories. They never were. And you’re a very lucky girl. Very lucky that it took him many hours to strip you bare. Very lucky that it took him many hours to do anything except kiss at whatever piece of your skin he could find. Very lucky that never once told you anything but the words you thought you would never hear from a man like him. Very lucky your night ended up with you being worshipped. Being praised. Being cherished.

Being his.

For now, you are still lost. For now, you are still confused. But the morning sun is just starting to rise. And the nighttime rain is just now finally turning into a spotty drizzle. And this stranger is finally letting his lips wander and brush and place themselves against a spot that is far too private for you to mention by name. But the feeling is far too good for you to wish he was doing anything else.

And so, you sit there. In a nobleman’s fine, luxurious sitting chair. You sit there and you stay with your legs parted. Mind at ease. Body relaxed. And lips parted. Your body finally dry and warm but oh-so-wet for a much different reason. And your own fingers find themselves more and more comfortable with reaching out and touching- grabbing him now. Gripping at his clothes. Threading your hands through his hair. And calling out a name. The one he told you. The one he gave you. The one he thought would make you remember. As if the two of you truly weren’t strangers. As if the two of you truly did know each other.

As if the name of the man now called William hadn’t lost its meaning to you when he and his brother had ultimately abandoned you.

Long, long, long ago.

#william james moriarty #william james moriarty x reader #william moriarty #william moriarty x reader #moriarty x reader #moriarty #moriarty the patriot #moriarty the patriot x reader #moriarty the patriot fanfic #moriarty the patriot fanfiction #yuukoku no moriarty #yuukoku no moriarty x reader #yuukoku no moriarty fanfic #yuukoku no moriarty fanfiction #x reader #xreader #fanfic #fanfiction

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jinchuls-moved · 3 months

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𝙸𝚗 𝚂𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚝𝚑 ˚‧⁺ ･ ˖ ·

╰┈➤ prince!sakusa kiyoomi x princess!reader

about ≡ a love that felt timeless comes to a halt; the man in front of you isn’t him but you don’t know here he has gone.

ANGST — 5.3k

MASTERLIST ≡ NEXT

divider by @/cafekitsune

The first time you saw him you were only a young child, as the only daughter–the only child–of the king’s closest confidant, you learnt of your engagement to the young prince as soon as you were of an age to understand what would be expected of you.

You stood in front of him, confident and proud; proving to him, to yourself and, most of all, to your mother you were worthy of the title that would one day be passed on to you.

Just children, finding their fates intertwined by forces they could not control and their betrothal that would not only impact their families, but the lives of each and every subject of Itachiyama, as your mother often put it.

From then on, you were forced to endure your mother’s lessons and unbearable pressure. Teaching you of all the expectations that will be placed on you in addition to her own that weighed down on your heart.

Time felt as though it slowed, day by day passing as your mother and various tutors join you in a study, bombarding you with the history of the family you are to wed into; etiquette lessons to become more accustomed to the manner in which you’d be expected to act as a royal. And, those you enjoyed the least, lessons in embroidery. Pricks of the needle into your fingertips, sloppy threadwork you weren’t certain would ever improve all whilst feeling berated by your mother as “a lady should be able to do this with ease.”

Months of lessons stretch to years, from etiquette and embroidery to each and every aspect you needed in order to become the best queen you could, even if that role was far in your future. Through it all, there was something that made the passing of time more bearable.

The blissful, peaceful days you could have with Sakusa by your side.

What had begun as forced, uncomfortable meetings, sharing tea under the watchful gaze of your mother, had turned into something you’d often look forward to. Exploring the palace grounds as children, taking a wrong turn one day and finding the new place of your ever more frequent encounters.

Starting with standing in the ankle-deep stream that ran along the left of the clearing, crystal clear water, that looked more than refreshing; evolving to basking in the sun in the heat of summer, sneaking pitchers of juice and snacks away from the maids before they’d notice the two of you, or the food, had gone missing. And, as the two of you grew into near adults—as your social debut, and your wedding approached—the clearing became the one place the two of you could forget the duties sitting heavy on your shoulders.

Under the weeping willow, shielded from everything outside, you’d sit with Sakusa’s head resting on your lap, gentle strokes through his hair, occasionally tracing your finger between the beauty marks on his forehead. The soft, sweet movements relieve him of all stress haunting him.

It was times like these where his princely nature, the vision the public had of him, would fumble and you would gain confidence to speak in ways you’d never let another witness as you gently ran your fingers through the curls of his hair, you studied the delicate features of his face as he closed his eyes, almost falling asleep with you as his pillow.

“What burdens you, My Dear?” He spoke up, eyes remaining closed. “I can feel the way you stare.” Now opening his eyes, his gaze meets yours, a soft frown on his face as he misinterpreted your silence as something worse.

“Nothing burdens me.” You smile, “I was simply thinking how much more enjoyable my time is when it is spent with you.”

He grins in return, lips faltering as he tries to hide his embarrassment, evident by the faint pink that adorns his cheeks. “I feel the same,” Sakusa whispers, reaching up to loosen your fingers from his curls and lacing his between yours. Bringing your hand closer, he places a soft kiss on your skin. “And, I must say. Though we had little choice, I am glad you are my betrothed.”

A sweet moment, one you had begun to cherish from the moment it occurred, or at least would have if it were not the final time you found the joy of his company and the clearing hand in hand. In fact, until the night of the ball hosted to celebrate his 18th birthday, you wouldn’t see him again.

You hadn’t thought much of it, assuming his responsibilities had made him too busy to make time for you, as it did occasionally. You find yourself missing him; waiting for the moment you could see him again, relaxed, under that oak tree but you have no luck until you’re attached to his arm, his partner as always, and waiting for the grand doors to open and your arrival to be announced to those lucky enough to receive an invitation.

They open and you can hear the faint music grow louder as you take your place at the top of the extravagant, and aggravatingly long, staircase allowing the guests time to lower their heads not only for the man at your side but the king and queen who had stepped in alongside you and, one day, they would do the same for you.

The music does not stop until you reach the bottom of the stairs as you wait for the king to announce the official beginning of the celebration; to wish his son well on the day intended to honour him. His speech comes to an end and the music brings the hall back to life. You’re pulled into idle chatter by those around you, some wanting to know of your well-being or your family’s, others solely interested in forming a connection with the future leaders of their kingdom.

Through it all, you simply wished for a moment of peace and an opportunity to escape. Yet another thing you’d learnt you shared with Sakusa: your distaste for expectation and attention.

You endure it for as long as you can, taking Sakusa’s hand as he requests your first dance, standing alongside your mother at the edge of the ballroom floor as Sakusa entertains each noble that approaches him. It seems like forever passes before you’re able to be beside him again, once more pulled into the centre of the floor (a result of your mother’s persistent pestering). You tell yourself there’s one more dance, a few more minutes of your time taken with everyone’s eyes locked onto the pair of you, an action you were sure you’d one day become accustomed to but, until then, you were left comforted by Sakusa’s words–encouraging you through each step.

Minute by minute, the night passes slowly—only enjoyable in the moment you find yourself hand in hand with Sakusa as he leads you through one of, what feels like, the hundreds of dances you had practiced all your life. His soft, gentle hands holding yours as though you were made of porcelain; as though one wrong move would shatter you in seconds.

Two or three dances pass—your movements seem to blend into the music, your focus only on him—you lose track of the time as the busy, political, intended nature of the ball. Leaving the dance floor, still hand in hand, you expect Sakusa to bid you farewell and mingle amongst those that will benefit him greatly once he is coronated.

But he never lets go. He never stops moving. He never looks back.

Pulling you from the vast ballroom you find yourself in the corridors of the palace, one’s you know well but ones that felt much different, more intimate now you were lead by your betrothed until you reach the beautiful glass doors that lead one of many balconies looking over the palace garden.

“What will people think?” You laugh, allowing him to pull you into the cold—he wastes no time in ridding himself of his jacket to wrap it around your shoulders. “The guest of honour hiding from his own celebration, taking a woman with him no less.” Fingers taking hold of the collars, you pull your covering closer. The familiar scent of him filling your nose.

“Taking his fiancé with him.” Sakusa corrects, leaning against the balcony rails as the cold breeze swims in the air. He looks beautiful as the wind disheveles every perfectly placed hair.

“We are yet to marry, there is still room for scandal.” He chuckles, staring down at the view of the garden. Making your way beside him everything feels right. The world you had been born to be part of, trained in your youth for and yearning for since you felt you heart beat only for him. It may have never been your choice, but the life expected of you didn’t seem too bad when Sakusa was going to be there with you.

“I can think of a worse scandal soon to be exposed.” Turning your head to him, you raise an eyebrow in your confusion. “The prince’s fiancé makes no attempt to congratulate him on his birthday.” A smile comes to your face at his teasing joke, turning to face him and taking a small step back. Your hand comes to your dress, pulling it out as you prepare yourself for a curtsy. Bowing your head you begin the official congratulations you’re assuming he’s expecting.

“I wish His Highness-” he raises his hand to stop you before you’re able to so much as bow.

“Not like that.” He whispers, taking a step towards you and gracefully wrapping his arms around your waist. Pulling you close he waits for you to talk.

Feeling the warmth emanating from his body, you’re suddenly painfully aware of the distance between you he’s shrunk. The cold chill in the air feels like nothing against the burning of your embarrassment coursing through you until you find yourself lost in the moment, meeting his eyes with your shy glance. “Kiyoomi.” You whisper, pushing a hand to his chest–he makes no effort to move. “This isn’t-” He watches you as you struggle to find the words becoming more flustered as each second passes. You look away, unable to keep your gaze on his, instead choosing to focus on the balcony railings and the stretch of the garden barely illuminated under the palace lights. “We are yet to be wed.” You remind him once more, tone as confident as you can muster.

“Will your reputation be tarnished by a single act no one is a witness to?” A guiding finger rests under your chin, luring you to look his way again. “I simply wish to hear your congratulations today.”

His fingers move gently against your skin, soft for the most part but the rough calluses forming rubbed against your skin, making you wish they could remain soft for the comfort of his caresses.

“Happy birthday, Kiyoomi.” Your voice is barely audible, only reaching his ears and, had it not been for the silence of the balcony, he may not have been blessed by the quiet embarrassment in your voice he’d grown to favour.

“I believe I may now call it so.” He whispers back through his grin, relishing in your initial shock as he closes the gap between the two of you, catching you in a kiss—your first—that would certainly trigger another lecture on your social reputation from your mother. If she were to find out.

It was magical; everything you had dreamt of. Perfect. Had you known what was coming, you would have savoured the moment longer.

Mere weeks later, to the surprise of everyone, the news comes that sits a weight on your heart that you can’t hold—the kingdom is at war and the prince must lead his army to victory. And you are left alone.

Your only solace is found in the frequent letters you’d share, his less detailed than yours—saving you from the horrors he was experiencing and only sharing what little could be considered ‘good’ on the battlefield. Small anecdotes; stories about his men and his queries into how you are. There seemed to be and endless amount to talk about and the letters were frequent enough to keep you enthralled with him.

Until they weren’t.

Days turned to weeks. Weeks turned to months and word soon stopped. No matter how much you longed to hear from him; no matter how often you sent letters of your own you heard nothing. You fear the worst, fear his death came too soon and that you were going to be the last to find out; you wonder if his parents would even feel the need to tell you. And if he wasn’t, was he captured? Was he in danger? Did his men fail to keep him safe?

How were you to ever find out?

Maybe you were never supposed to. Maybe this was how you were to find out the truth of his feelings towards you and that he’d stopped entertaining your painfully obvious childish infatuation. You could only assume so when his mother mentions, in passing, that he’s grown more into his role over the years if she was perceiving his letters correctly.

His silence was for you and you only and it shatters you. You’re left heartbroken and with a hundred questions but the one lingering on your mind the most is why? Why spend your life concerned for a man that appears to have to care for you?

You wish you could say it never bothered you and had never left you sleepless as you thought of every part of your childhood that had you falling for him in the first place. And, perhaps, with a little more time, you would have found a way to heal. Perhaps if you hadn’t heard from him again you could have felt normal.

His final letter comes as a surprise; you read it again and again, eyes scanning each word as if there was a hidden message behind them; as if something would jump from the paper and scream the truth of all that you had missed–all that he had kept from you.

But nothing came, just the words that felt as though they had no care behind them; no explanation as to why his letters had stopped. Simply a small letter, a paragraph that held nothing more than the words scrawled on the page, that you doubted he had even written himself, stating your wedding would be held in three days–leaving you no time to process that he was back. The time you had spent mourning him; crying to Kiyoko as the thought of losing him broke you.

Instead, you found yourself thrown into preparations and, with your lack of interest in the wedding painfully obvious to everyone but your overexcited mother, you feel as though there’s no time to breathe as flower arrangements, invitations and dress fittings are forced on you with no room allowed for your own opinions.

The days pass slowly, you’re overwhelmed and waiting for the end of the night when you can crawl into bed or finally release the build-up of emotions to an increasingly worried Kiyoko as she stood, brushing through your hair and encouraging you to tell her the truth. After witnessing it all, the months of missing him; the way you broke at the loss of contact and the anger you had felt when he resurfaced, she was unprepared to let you burden yourself with the weight of the kingdom’s expectations.

Especially as the night before the wedding falls.

You cling to Kiyoko as she held you tight, your head rested on her lap as she gently stroked your hair—her futile attempt to soothe you. Every wail from you leaves her shattered and the letter, the blaster letter, sit torn to shreds at your feet. Ripping it apart in a haste as Kiyoko opened your doors, you fell into a state of despair.

Tomorrow was the day of your dreams but reality felt like much more of a nightmare.

It’s a miracle your home isn’t awoken by your heartbreak but no one else comes or they simply don’t care enough to stop the once thing that benefits even the lowest of employees in your family home. Why should they step in just because you felt pain?

“I can’t!” You cry. You must, you think—the protests fall from your lips as you lose yourself in the spiral your mind has become, Kiyoko’s efforts to calm you are useless. She’s left with nothing to do but wait for you to exhaust yourself—which comes soon—only then is she able to gentle tuck you into bed again ignoring the painful pant of her own heart as she yearns for a way to get you out of your forced destiny. Yet, all she can do is stay at your side and bring you some sort of familiarity to the life you’re dreading.

It’s a restless night, tossing and turning in a light sleep that wakes you frequently. You stare at the ceiling, hoping sleep will take you once more as the birds chirp and the world awakens. If an escape is not possible, just a few more minutes of sleep will be preferable.

Puffy-eyed, throat sore, and filled with dread, you wake the next morning to the room filling with maids, more than you had ever been used to seeing, and your mother pushing her way in determined to oversee every last detail of the preparation. Since you woke up that morning, you hadn’t had a single chance to breathe.

Your mother, someone who had always been considered a respectable woman, pulled you to your feet with a childish grin on her face, pushing you from the comfort and warmth of your covers to one of her employees, whose name she certainly had never bothered to learn.

Rushed onto your feet, the only chance you have to breathe is the short time you have away from your mother–that you wished would stretch longer–sat in the warmth of your bathtub and allowing yourself just a few minutes to relax before you’re thrown into the fire burning in your home.

Your mother stands amongst the maids as you return, insisting on every last detail of your hair and clothing; ignoring the few requests you’d had just a few days beforehand. But you move past it quickly, those few requests weren’t important to either of you, your mother wanted this day to be perfect; it had to fit the image she had in her mind whereas you would had preferred nothing at all or, since you had no choice, something much less extravagant than all that had been planned.

You’re more than ready for it to end the second it begins, you’re being tugged from side to side as the maids (not so) delicately pull your hair into the intricate style your mother is insisting on, she’s quick to slap the back of your hand as you complain, reaching to alter the curl your mother seems to love–she’s telling you to remain still; accusing you of ruining the day before it had even began.

So, you’re left with no choice. You sit, having your head pulled from side to side under your mother's orders; you share a look with your lady-in-waiting through the mirror praying there was something either of you could do to stop the hell you’re about to subject yourself to—as though either of you could stop the dictator making her orders.

You lose track of the time you’re spent as your mother’s living doll, having your breath stolen as the corset is tightened around you with the order of “a little more” and your ignored protests. Your arms are pulled left and right as you're pushed into the gown, leaving only makeup to be done.

You hope it won’t take as long as your mother makes it seem; with powder being slapped on your face and more instructions being tossed at the maids. There’s nothing you can do but sit and take everything thrown your way; you’re being led to the royal carriage before you realise it—you’re still not ready.

You’re not sure how many hours have passed since the moment you woke up but, now, the sun is beating down on you through the window of the carriage. It hurts your eyes, just a little bit, but you think that’s better than your attention being on your mother. She’s sat opposite you listing off her requirements and rules for the day—all boiling down to ‘don’t mess this up’. Ruining the day was practically impossible. You’d practiced a million times, you’d had nothing but lessons on palace etiquette and you’d memorised your agenda for the day years ago. Above all, it was once a day you dreamt of—once one that left your heart fluttering.

You were a robot programmed for this day and this day only. Ruining it was not an option.

She doesn’t stop talking until you reach the palace but you’re left with no time to feel the relief. You freeze for a moment, staring at the church that stood tall, staring down at you; taunting you. Even with only a few more moments until those doors opened, until you were expected to give the rest of your life to a man you no longer wanted in your memories, you hoped you’d receive one more message that would set you free. Instead, you take the step out of the carriage, feeling the never-changing watchful glare of your mother bore into your side even as she’s encouraged away, inside the building, with Kiyoko following behind her. Your silent beg for her to stay with you; your plead for her to stand beside you and offer you the only comfort you would receive that day, don’t go unnoticed but she has no choice but to follow after your mother, leaving you stood alone with nothing to do but wait for the sound of the organ and opening of the holy doors condemning you into a life you considered hell.

Left alone, time seems to stop. There’s an endless silence that envelopes you until you’re left restless, taunted by the wait hoping the tune will never start. You don’t fund yourself lucky. The grand doors slowly creak open, the music begins quietly, the volume rising as you come into view. You want the floor to swallow you whole as every guest stands and their attention is solely on you.

It’s time.

You wish there was someone beside you. Your mother, your father, Kiyoko or just a maid. But you’re expected to take each step solo.

As the music continues you take each painstaking step. Chattering and whispers dying down to silence as the sound of the organ grows; there isn’t a single pair of eyes not on you.

Glancing around the room, or at least to those sat in proximity to the aisle in the vast chapel, you’re realising there are minimal people here to support you.

There’s viscounts and barons hoping to gain power through relationships with the higher ranking earls and dukes. There’s women hoping to meet a higher ranking man to lift them up the societal hierarchy and you start to think Kiyoko is the only person really there for you.

The closer you come to Sakusa, the more familiar the faces become. You may not know them all, but the soldiers that fought alongside your fiancé stand to your left, all smiling at the thought of their captain, the man that lead them to victory in the near half-decade they were at war, getting his chance of happiness. Or what they perceive to be so.

You search the sea of vaguely recognisable faces, trying to keep your attention forward as you walk and, only then, do you look to the men that stand close, at Sakusa’s side. His most trusted, his family–only one of which you recognise. And only one of which you’re happy see.

Komori. Sakusa’s cousin and right hand, there wasn’t a thing on Earth Sakusa knew the Komori didn’t; as your eyes met his he greets you with a familiar, comforting smile—one you hadn’t seen in far too long. The sight of him turns from reassurance into something you’d wished you’d never laid eyes on.

You hate it.

It reminds you of the happiest years of your life, when you could consider Sakusa a friend instead of the stranger he’d become; when you could laugh or cry around him and not fear his reaction. Of when you would accompany both Sakusa and Komori on walks around the palace garden, almost always ending in a scolding from your mother at the filth that littered the dress she had carefully picked out that morning, something that never bothered you. Because the time you spent without supervision was always the time you looked forward to most.

It reminds you of the time you thought married life could be somewhat enjoyable.

Beside him are the infamous mercenaries hired to fight alongside the soldiers; now knights of the palace with the sole duty of protecting the prince. There’s Bokuto and Hinata, the two deceitfully cheerful men with the power to kill in seconds if given the chance. Together, they were an unstoppable team but they were not as treacherous as the faux blonde sat beside them with judgmental eyes targeting you.

Miya Atsumu. Bloodthirsty and menacing, his stare had you wanting to turn and leave more than you already were. His brown eyes felt like they were searching your very soul and all you could do was look away, finally looking at your betrothed.

For the first time in over four years.

You hate to admit it, you really do, but, no matter how much you despise him, you cannot deny the fact he’s become an inexplicably handsome man.

Maybe it was the years on the battlefield that had forced him to grow from the 18-year-old you remember into the toned, beautiful heir to the throne waiting for you at the alter; his new physique perfectly suiting the white suit he had donned; golden accessories making him more breathtaking. And, across his shoulders sat the white mantle handed down the generations of his family: a symbol of alleged love and affection between the king and his queen.

It makes you want to laugh.

The worst thing about it all, the one thing you’d expected but hoped he would control, is the expression on his face. If a single person was looking at him they would realise what a mockery this wedding was—no one should have an expression of such abhorrence at the site of their wife. Yet, there he was looking at you like you were dirt on his boots, like you were the enemy he’d been fighting for so long.

You slow for a second, taking a hesitant step forward as you force your eyes away from his. You know this isn’t what either of you want, you’re aware there may even be a woman Sakusa yearns for but can never have. But you wish you could live your life differently, turn and run; find a man to love wholeheartedly.

Reaching the alter, everything feels real. Sakusa takes his steps towards you; taking your hand and guiding you up the steps to the high priest, who’s waiting for the music to cease and the ceremony to officially begin.

With your back to the crowd, you ignore the words spoken by the priest; they mean nothing to you as he speaks of blessings showered down on the union—on how this is the wedding everyone has been anticipating.

Everyone but the two of you.

So, you stand. A hand rested on Sakusa’s as you wait for your cue to turn to him; to listen to him speak his vows, one’s you’ll have to echo afterwards.

When the time comes, you let him take your hands; you let him talk and you let him slide the ring on your finger. You’re locked into your life the second he finishes; he looks as unhappy as you feel at that moment.

Then it’s your turn; everyone’s watching you. They’re waiting to celebrate not only the marriage of the prince but the consolidation of power that will become their king and queen. But, not a single one knows you’re anxious about the words you're expected to say.

All eyes turn to you as your turn to repeat the words spoken moments beforehand comes, holding Sakusa’s hand in yours whilst you wait for the moment to slide the ring on his finger; the cold metal matches the rough man who’s not so much as smiled at you from the moment the doors opened.

You can hear the minister speaking even though you don’t register the words, meaningless words you’d practised a hundred times under the order of your mother, words that would have once spluttered from your mouth through your amusing nerves and had your heart racing. Yet, now, they left you numb and full of regret. Had all those years you’d given him, all the emotions you’d once thought you shared, been some sort of game? Or had he let you think he felt something towards you just so he could fulfil the duties placed on him by his father?

Taking a deep breath as the silence falls amongst the hall, as it had when Sakusa spoke his vows, and you prepare yourself for what was beginning to shape the rest of your life. “I y/n l/n take you, Sakusa Kiyoomi,” meeting his eyes for just a second you feel yourself begin to falter, staring at the man who, for just a split second, held a soft expression on his face. You lose sight of it just as quickly as you had noticed it, watching him as he turns from the young man that had been by your side; the man that had made you feel as though you were more than enough for anyone, to the stranger that had returned.

The moment passes and the light fades as you open your mouth to continue, “to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward,” with him in front of you; with the hopeful eyes of everyone watching, you’re left with nothing other than a bitter taste in your mouth.

“for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer,” you let your eyes drift to your parents, sitting beside Kiyoko, and your mother’s beaming smile urges you on with no care for what you want. She sits, expectant, waiting for the opportunity to call her daughter the princess, waiting to be known as the woman who was successful in making her child the future queen.

No matter how much you had told her you wanted anything else for your own life.

With your attention back to the man in front of you, you continue. “in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish,” You allow yourself to entertain the thought of just what type of person Sakusa would be in those situations. Wondering if he’d warm to you again, just as he did when you were younger, or if he’d show more of the man he’d seemed to have become. Would he care or would he leave you to feel alone in the palace through the moments you needed someone with you most?

“till death do us part,” The question of his loyalty had never come to your mind, you knew how he was raised and you knew how he felt about mistresses. You were all he would have be it willing or not.

“according to God’s holy law.” Uttering the words feel almost blasphemous, in a place of worship shared with a man you had long since lost any loving feelings. Words that most would believe were shared between lovers, young adults that had waited for this moment since they were children, unaware of the loss you feel thinking about the man that once took claim of your heart.

You hold the ring in your hand, delicately lifting it so you can slide it down his slender finger, trapping yourself with the final words you speak, mouth dry and voice shaking, enough to be misconstrued as nerves, as you do so.

“This is my solemn vow.”

#𝓈𝒾𝑔𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝑒𝒸𝒽𝑜 ༉‧₊˚.#haikyuu #haikyuu angst #haikyuu x reader #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa angst #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa x reader

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simonrillleyyysss · 7 months

Text

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ VIRIDITY

(n.) naïve innocence

blurb 😈😈

note: this is my first time ever writing on here so pls feel free to critique :))

PAIRING:SIMON ‘GHOST’ RILEY x INNOCENT READER

warnings: reader has a vayjina

implied age gap?(3-4 years) smut, softdom ghost, corruption kink, size kink??? squirting 😈😈,loss of virginity, p in v, fingering, protected sex<wrap before u tap!> implied aftercare

SFW

si was sitting on the bed, while his sweetheart got ready, making herself all nice and pretty for the night!!

he couldn’t help but look at you in adoration as you wiped your makeup off :(( his little dolly looking so content as she sat at her makeup table, bright lights from the mirror illuminating his dears sweet face.

poor guy can only sit in peace for so long!!:(

eventually, the burly man cozily kneeled behind you, resting his face into the crook of your neck, lips gently pressing against your collarbone rough stubble moving against your shoulderblade.

“Lookin’ perfect for me, ‘luv.”

A gruff voice erupted from behind, peppering gentle pecks against the expanse of your neck, hands slowly trailing along the sides of your waist, rough hands pressing against the fabric covering it, long fingers drawing small shapes into the plush skin beneath, humming with content.

“Almost done?”

He couldn’t help but ask, his eyes softened as her glanced at you from his peripheral vision, watching you dab a small amount of moisturiser onto your finger, gently rubbing it across your skin.

“Mhhhmm! Almost done, ‘si.”

he is just so impatient!! but he’d wait for his love for as long as he had to <3

he’d generously help you into your newly purchased pj set with ease!! he just can’t help himself, he loves to spoil his lovie! always taking you shopping to the most expensive stores

always buying you jewellery and shoes, bags and clothes, he just wants you to feel spoiled!

simon could feel his eyes narrow slightly as he watched the little satin dress riding up your plush thighs as you joined him ontop of the comforter, the bed gently sinking beneath your weight as you wrapped your frail arms around him.

“Comfy?”

he enquired, earning a small nod from you, ducking his head down to let his lips dance across your neck, high-pitched giggles erupting from your throat.

His hand rested comfortably on your hip, stubble itching your jaw as his lips traced further down, fingers slowly slinking beneath your dress, fiddling with the white lace of your panties, squeezing the soft mould of your thigh.

“Si?”

A soft murmur left your mouth, which was hanging slightly agape, dolly lashes fluttering against your rosy cheeks, doe-like eyes observing every movement he made with his hand.

“S’okay, sweetheart.. Jus’ relax.”

NSFW

That’s how you ended up sprawled across the bed, thick finger slowly moving in and out of your tight cunt, soft gasps and whimpers leaving your pretty little lips <3

simon couldn’t help but feel himself growing aroused at your meek pleas and whispers :((

how could he not! when his gorgeous dolly is making such sweet sounds because of him <33

“si—please.. m’so desperate..”

gentle pleas fell from plush lips, hips desperately grinding against his finger for more friction, Simons finger slowly coming to a halt—earning an eager whine.

“I know, luvie’..jus’ gotta hang tight, gonna have you cumming soon, don’t worry.”

As he said that, two fingers slowly slinked inside your wet cunt, his thick fingers coaxed in your wet slick, gawking at the scene unfolding infront of him, stretching out your virgin cunt; a choked sob erupting from you, slowly speeding up as he scissored his fingers in your gummy walls.

“Si’—m’so close..hah! HaaaAaahh…”

so gentle with you, not too fast but too slow! careful not to hurt his precious baby, pressing encouraging kisses against your thigh:(( he’s such a sweetie

he’d help you ride out your first orgasm, his rough thumb palming against your swollen clit, squirting atop his lean abdomen <3

he’d hold you so close whenever he’s putting on his johnny, ripping open the packet as he pressed soft kisses to your breasts, which were swollen and covered in lovebites from his greedy kisses!!

His tongue wrapped around the perky bud of your nipple, greedily suckling and kissing at the plush skin around it, fondling your perfect breast, his fingers slowly scissoring inside of your greedy cunt; which was happily sucking his thick fingers back in, placing a hand to the swollen bundle of your clit, feeling himself grow aroused.

“Omigosh! Mmmngghh—si! Needa’…needa’ stop, feels like m’gonna-!”

Before you could even finish your sentence, your thighs were trembling and your innocent eyes were rolling back, mouth agape as you let out a drawn moan, squirting on his stomach-an earnest grumble coming from the man infront of you.

“That’s it baby..fuuckkk..That feel good?”

He chuckled to himself, slowly removing his fingers and thumb from your clit, lifting a condom as his lips licked along your breasts, ripping open the condom and slowly sliding it onto himself.

He’d be so careful! Slowly sliding in and letting you take your time, choosing the pace.

But he’s only a man :(( He can’t help but want to take control, his hands resting on your hips as you rode him.

no worries! He’ll let you bite and cry into his neck, he’s not mean :))

His thick cock rutted into your tight pussy, low growls and grumbled coming from his lips, listening to your sobs and cries, your teeth burying into his neck, his hands resting gently on your hips as you hovered above him.

“Fuck, love…Just like that, baby.. Greedy pussy sucking me back in, s’me making you feel so good, yyeeaaahh..what would your parents think? Sweet lil’ daughter not savin’ herself for marriage..”

He groaned into your neck, his hand coming down to rub fast paced circles onto your puffy clit, tears spilling down your pink hued cheeks, hands desperately clawing at his shoulders, feeling the length of him slowly move in and out of you.

“Feels s’good—nmmhh! si-fuck! fuckfuckfuck!”

“Gonna make you cum on this cock, yeah? Fill you up nice and good, gonna have my cum pourin’ outta—fuck..-outta your pretty little pussy.”

He growled, pounding into you as you rode out your orgasm, his hips pumping into you before they stilled, a low groan leaving his lips, gently pressing your lips against his.

“Love you so much, si…”

She mumbled against his lips, placing her hands on his cheeks, earning a gentle peck on the neck.

“Cmon..let’s go get you a bath, ‘mmhh?”

NOTES- this is my first ever time writing and I’m so scared 😭😭 pls feel free to critique and give recommendations :3

requests open!

#ghost x reader #ghost smut #simon riley smut #simon ghost x reader #dilf ghost!#ghost cod smut #ghost mwf2 smut

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jinkicake · 1 year

Text

~ ♡ Dear Lover ♡ ~

a tiny peek into your relationship

(( Day #3 )) Diluc, Kaeya, Tighnari, Xiao x Reader

A/N: all i know abt this is that when i wrote it i desperately wanted fluff.... as you all know im not good at writing it but here is my attempt.... i love love love these four T T why am i soooo obsessed w fluff rn i dont knowwwww

WC - 2,839

~~~

. . .

Diluc R. treasures his intimate time with you.

The man has always enjoyed a quiet atmosphere, it brings him comfort that is akin to a warm blanket. Whenever he is in your presence, basking in the hushed ambiance of the winery, he feels the most at peace.

For a second, Diluc lets his eyes leave the book in one of his hands in search of something more intriguing. His hard eyes stare at you while his fingers continue their light strokes against your calf, your legs currently draped over his lap. You’re reading your own book and biting on the inside of your cheek at whatever is happening within the novel. Diluc can’t tear his eyes away.

There’s something about the way the afternoon sun is hitting your face and painting your body with a gorgeous golden hue, one so bright that Diluc thinks he needs to soon look away. He can’t, he’s always been selfish with you. His eyes find the subtle rise and fall of your chest and watch as you quietly breathe in and out, he’s certain he’s addicted to you.

“How much longer are you going to stare at me?” Your lips quirked up as you continue to stare at your novel, you don’t even have to look at Diluc to tell that he is staring. Almost instantly, his eyes dart to a random spot in the room as if that will erase his piercing gaze. “You’re distracting me, my love,”

Diluc’s breath almost hitches in his throat, he knows how much you despise being interrupted while reading. He almost starts to feel ashamed but then you close your book shut.

“Good thing I need a distraction, I’m bored with this, it’s a shame.” You face him with a pout, a deep expression that Diluc just wants to kiss off and his fingers twitch at the opportunity to touch you. All he can do is wordlessly watch as you get up and shuffle your position on the couch. Now, your head is in his lap as you play with the ends of his long hair.

Diluc’s book from earlier is now long gone.

“(Y/N),” Diluc murmurs quietly as his gloved hand traces your jaw, his thumb rubbing your chin lightly. There’s something that shifts in his features, almost darkening, as you tilt your head back with a smile. Your throat, bare for him, has always been something of a weak spot for Diluc.

He ignores the teasing glint in your eyes in favor of tracing one finger down the front of your neck. Before he knows it, his entire hand rests across the span of skin, his thumb now on one side of your throat with his other fingers resting on the opposite side.

“How was work today?” You hum and Diluc starts to find it incredibly difficult to focus, he doesn’t understand how on earth you are managing to keep a decent conversation with him right now while his restraint is slipping through his fingers.

“Work,” Diluc repeats, his low voice dragging the mumble out as he starts to gently squeeze his gloved hand around your throat.

“You know, the thing that you do every day? What did you do today?” Your teasing is getting the better of him, not that he would ever admit to it.

“What did I do today?” His words trail off as he lowers his face. Before he can stop himself, his lips find a home against your own without a second thought.

. . .

No matter who he talks to, Kaeya A. always saves his gossip for you.

“That’s why Hertha left him.”

The time that you spend gossiping with Kaeya is time well spent, time that you deeply cherish. You can’t help but hang on to his every word, practically in his lap as you eat out of the palm of his hand. It’s a simple exchange really, priceless gossip for some sweet company. This time around, it’s Kaeya’s revelation that makes your jaw drop, and, despite his sultry voice, the rumors he shares are all you can focus on.

“You’re kidding,” Gasps leave your lips as he continues to spill exactly what he knows and who told him.

If only everyone loved hearing petty rumors and took them as if they came from the morning newspaper. Sadly, it can’t be the same for everyone.

Diluc feels his eye twitch at the two familiar voices, hushed whispers that stand out amongst his crowded bar. He doesn’t even have to look over to see you and Kaeya with your bodies pressed incredibly close to one another. You’re nearly seating in his lap. The owner makes an exception, of course, because he’d do anything for his family. Family being you, not Kaeya. Diluc tries his best to stay on your good side, he’d hate for his brother’s partner to hate him.

“Well, I heard from Donna that Hertha was the one who cheated-”

But if Diluc has to listen to the two of you gossip any longer, he might just rip his fiery hair out. Day in and day out, almost every night the two of you come here and talk for hours until he has to kick you both out.

“Aren’t you a little busy bee? Did you find this out before coming here?” Kaeya softly coos into your ear, grinning at the embarrassed flush washing over you as you lean into his side. You place your chin in your hand as you lean over the bar, trying to wave down either Charles or Diluc for another drink.

“If you want to hear my next story, you’re going to have to finish that,” You point at Kaeya’s drink, almost as if you’re offended by its presence. Your husband is pacing himself too much for your liking and you don’t want to be the only one off your ass.

Diluc notices Kaeya’s full glass too as he slowly pours you another, the owner isn’t a fool. He knows his brother better than anyone and knows that Kaeya is a gentleman through and through. You don’t often drink heavily when you spend time with either of them but, when you do, Kaeya is sure to keep his drinks lighter than usual. It is a show of affection that warms the redhead’s heart, not that he would ever admit it. Especially not to you and your loud mouth.

You look so far gone that Diluc immediately scratches the idea of giving you another round.

“Diluccc,” Your whine makes the older man sigh as he pulls back the wine bottle from your grasp. Despite your efforts to reach over and grab the liquid gold, you fail because of a certain someone. Someone with strong hands who tightly grip your waist to keep you from falling over and despite their cold touch, you start to feel incredibly hot. “Kaeya!” You’re drunk as shit.

“You’re cut off.” Diluc takes away both glasses of alcohol before moving on to another pair that is sitting at his bar. He ignores you despite all your cries.

“No, but Diluc, you have to listen to this!”

. . .

Tighnari is an early riser and thoroughly enjoys getting you up in the mornings.

This habit of his is not by choice but, is instead something that he can’t avoid. Every morning he wakes up just before the sun rises and stares at his ceiling before any existential dread kicks in. Even when he doesn’t need to be awake for patrol or for anything of importance, the man cannot sleep.

Every morning, Tighnari gets a few seconds of peace before his entire body starts to ache. When his heart starts to feel a little too heavy, he simply rolls onto his side and looks at you.

You’re always buried under the blanket, tugging on the material that is laid neatly across his lap. Each morning your face is pushed up against the many pillows you have so generously decorated his bed with and, Tighnari’s favorite aspect of your sleeping form, there’s always a little bit of drool spilling past the corner of your lips.

He lifts his bare hand to wipe away at your mouth, gently thumbing over the spot before catching it with his thumb. It’s cute how your nose twitches at the slightest touch, Tighnari almost coos. Once he finishes staring at you and tracing your features until his heart is content, the forest watcher will force himself to get up.

His morning routine is very simple, get clean and ready for the day. Since Tighnari is the earlier riser of the two of you, he always does the favor of making breakfast. When he has the time, he’ll force you to eat a ka’ak or two before handing you your coffee. He’s not a fan of the smell but, he’ll do anything to see the excitement in your eyes upon the sight of your favorite mug in his hand.

Tighnari doesn’t shy away from the fact that he adores you. Why would he?

Almost like a ritual, Tighnari fills up your cup with hot water, mixing in the coffee powder, before sprinkling in a natural enhancer. It makes the drink sweeter and easier to drink in his opinion.

But sometimes, the sweetness gives him a toothache. He simply prefers not to drink it at all but that never stops him from bringing it back to your shared bed.

With a light hand, he places the mug on your side table before sitting on the edge of the bed. Tighnari places his touch against your lower back before softly pressing his fingers into your skin. It wakes you up just enough that you start to squirm but, you are not fully awake yet. The smell of the coffee will inevitably wake you up, it always does.

“(Y/N),” Tighnari and his soft voice call out to you like a light in a pitch-dark space. You instantly shift out of your slumber. “wake up.”

You swat at him with a groan and refuse to open your eyes. Every morning, it’s a battle with you.

“Wake up.” Tighnari tries again and this time, it is firmer. You blink the sleep out of your eyes and force yourself to sit up in one go. Almost instantly, your facial expression morphs into one of a frown and Tighnari matches your glare. He’s not going to let you get off easy. “Come on,”

He gently tugs on your wrist and tries to help you up, to shake any lingering effects of sleep that still have a hold over you. You ultimately ignore him and choose to instead place a gentle kiss on his shoulder.

Oh, how Tighnari loves his mornings with you.

. . .

Xiao cherishes his shared evenings outdoors with you. For as long as he has known you, the yaksha has enjoyed being by your side and always finds comfort in your presence.

Today, the karmic debt that looms over him like an angry cloud doesn’t feel as demanding because of you. Sometimes when you touch him, it’s as if the pressure is gone and Xiao can finally breathe. But then, he has to protect Liyue all over again.

And he’ll continue to give his life to it in order to keep you and the various others in his area safe.

So incredibly safe that you can walk around at night with no worries, you’ve always admired the stars.

“Are you ready?” You’re holding your hand out to him, a loose jacket hanging around your shoulders due to the night breeze. Xiao blinks and hesitantly places his hand in your own before you proceed to drag him around Dihua marsh. “Isn’t it nice out?”

In his thin attire, Xiao wordlessly nods. The weather never matters much to him, he doesn’t feel too cold or too hot but, sometimes he gets uncomfortable.

Right now, the air is perfect. The yaksha can admit it to himself and he almost closes his eyes to focus on the feeling. Whisps of wind fly past his ears and the feeling is too freeing, the burden on his shoulders feels lighter because of it.

Under the delicate touch of your hand, the duty almost feels nonexistent.

“What do you think?”

Xiao almost forgets that you had been talking. You were explaining some situation about your coworker, how you think that she has a secret partner and refuses to tell you. Regardless of whether or not he was listening, Xiao has no idea what to say.

“Think?” He repeats and you can’t help the way that you start to laugh. You squeeze his hand (and by association, the strings of his heart) as you almost start to double over due to your laughter. Maybe it’s the clueless look on his face or the slight furrow of his brows that has you so amused.

“You’re cute,” You gently wrap your arms around his bicep and press the muscle against your chest, both of your hands wrap around his own as you cuddle into his side. The new display of affection is nothing new, you always touch Xiao openly like this but, that doesn’t mean the yaksha is entirely used to it. Xiao nearly trips over his own two feet when he feels your cheek press into his arm. “well, do you think Yuhua has a boyfriend? You always know everything,”

Xiao bites on his own tongue to stop himself from admitting that he does not, in fact, know everything. Far from it but, he hates to let you down. In truth, he hasn’t been paying attention to the waitress closely. He has no idea what’s going on with her or her love life.

“I’m not sure.” Slowly, he answers you as if he is gauging your reaction. To his surprise, you inevitably sigh before bringing your eyes up to the night sky.

“That’s okay,” You comment and Xiao wants to ask if you really mean it. “I’ll let you know as soon as I find out. It will be soon!” He’s sure of it, with your determination, nothing stands in your way. The longer he stares at you and your soft features, the more Xiao feels something inside of him stir.

Under the bright light of the moon high in the sky, Xiao finds himself squeezing your hand back.

. . .

2023/02/05 ♡

#diluc ragnvindr x reader #kaeya alberich x reader #tighnari x reader #xiao x reader #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #tighnari x y/n #xiao x you #genshin x you #genshin x reader #genshin x y/n

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