#and I do hesitate to admit this but for the past several months I have in fact been going individually to the blogs of my mutuals

[e-vultures]

*emerges sopping wet and spluttering from a nearby pond absolutely covered in mud and algae and plankton* hi again :)

[deakyjoe]

Stay Sweet

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x Reader (afab)

Category: smut

Summary: Copia is all too enthusiastic when you suggest something new.

Warnings: 18+, smut, f receiving oral, face sitting, dry humping, kissing, Copia’s nose, Copia being beautiful, Copia worshipping reader, fluff, established relationship

Word count: 2k

A/N: Happy Birthday @littlemissemeritus!! I cannot believe writing a face sitting fic for you motivated me to get back into writing after several months. Hope you have a good one today, this is for you :)

The Cardinal had such a beautiful face. It was the kind of face that artists yearned for as to inspire their pieces of work. You could imagine that anyone with an ounce of talent in their bodies would long for him to be their muse. He had the kind of face that people went to war for.

Which is why you had the burning urge to sit on it.

Especially his nose. His gorgeous nose.

A flurry of butterflies swarmed in your stomach any time he looked at you, which had been a lot in more recent times. Ever since he expressed an interest in you really. You had always admired him from a distance, keeping away from him as your desire for him overwhelmed you any time you were in close contact. So you watched him, just looked at him, from afar. It turned out that he felt the same way for you, as he awkwardly admitted one day. He was endearing as well as beautiful which really screwed you over - the lust that buzzed in your bloodstream only doubling with that new information.

Another fun fact about the charming Cardinal Copia was that he worshipped you. By simply throwing him the bone of sharing a mutual affection for each other, he was willing to do anything for you. Which is why it didn't take too long once the intimate side of your relationship had started for you to express your want, no need, to sit on his face. And he was all too happy to hear it.

The way his eyes lit up at the mere notion of it showed you how in tune the two of you were. His words only solidified this. "I think that is a wonderful idea."

You weren't entirely surprised by his enthusiasm, he had shown in the past how willing he was to try anything in the bedroom with you. And with how much he practically bowed down before you and grovelled at your feet, it wasn't exactly a shock that he liked the idea of you potentially suffocating him by sitting on his face and crushing his head between your thighs. Not that you'd let that happen, you liked him too much so would prefer it if he stayed alive. Copia wouldn't have hesitated in saying that dying as a consequence of giving you an orgasm would be a pretty good way to go.

You were, however, slightly surprised when he suggested going forward with the activity right then and there in the moment.

"Wait, right now?" You gasped at him.

"Why not?" Copia shrugged in response, a smile on his face. "I have time. You have time. My bed is right there."

Your eyes drifted towards the piece of furniture in his room. You should've seen this coming really with how you'd brought up the idea whilst in his bedroom. It seemed only natural to immediately give it a go.

He saw you hesitate. "My face is also willing and available."

Your gaze snapped back towards his face. His beautiful, beautiful face. His nose really was calling to you, begging to be ridden on.

"Okay, let's do it."

"Great!" Copia cheered and bounded over to the bed, leaping onto the mattress and landing on his pillows with a couple of small bounces. He starfished momentarily before waving you over. "Come, come! So I can make you come!"

You shook your head at his joke, stifling a smile, and started kicking off your shoes. Pausing, you stared at Copia sprawled on the bed. He was fully dressed, and would remain so. You, on the other hand, would be have to be naked from at least the waist down. 

The Cardinal noticed your hesitation and pushed himself up on his elbows to look at you. "If it makes you feel better, I am very excited about this."

The sincere grin on his face, the face you were about to sit on, was very convincing of his enthusiasm. So you stripped. Well, stripped from the waist down at least. And then you crawled onto the bed, smiling at Copia as he flattened himself against the bed again, fully prepared for what was to come. However, he appeared confused once the length of your body covered his and you stopped with your face hanging over his. 

"Amore, what are you doing? This is not prime position for what we discussed." Copia's eyes roamed your face, affection filling them as he gazed up at you. He was confused but he certainly was not complaining when he had your breathtaking face so close to his own. He always found himself feeling rather lucky that you felt the same way for him as he did for you. When he had first admitted his feelings, he had expected that he would have needed to grovel at your feet in order to convince you to go on one date with him. He was shocked when you had immediately announced that you found him beautiful and jumped at the chance to spend the evening with him. It had only gone uphill from there.

"That'll come soon enough." You nudged your nose against his. "But kissing first."

"Well, if you insist." Copia chuckled lowly and closed the inch of distance between the two of you, his lips covering yours.

It was always nice kissing the Cardinal. Extremely nice. He knew the perfect ratio of lips to tongue, the exact way to have your toes curling without even touching you intimately with his hands, and the precise moment to break away that always left you craving more. He always had you clinging onto him, trying to pull him impossibly closer, bucking your hips against him with the desire for some sort of friction. You believed it was part due to your carnal attraction to him based on his beautiful face, but you knew it was because he possessed the gift of knowing you, of understanding you. He could sense exactly what would get you ticking and used that to his full advantage.

Which is why it didn't take him long before he was sliding one his thighs in between yours and pressing it against you. 

You whimpered against his mouth and reluctantly broke the kiss. "That is not what we agreed."

Copia smiled. "Oh but, amore, I know it's what you want."

Damn, he was right. How he read you so well would continue to be a mystery. But oh, it was a mystery that you loved. 

So you kissed him again and rutted your hips against his thigh, letting out a soft moan against his mouth as you did so. This sound made Copia smile, as it usually did. The initial objective was forgotten momentarily as you suddenly favoured the idea of riding his thigh rather than his face. This particular activity wasn't new for the two of you, in fact it happened to be one of the first things that you had explored with him and tended to make an appearance during every sexual encounter with him.

You desperately grinded your pelvis against his thigh, chasing the high that you knew would come soon enough. The Cardinal could sense your impending orgasm so shifted his leg into a slightly different position that would get you there sooner. He knew all the tricks with you, after all. But just as you inched closer and closer to that inevitable drop, Copia dropped his thigh from beneath you and slide it out from between your legs.

You groaned in protest. "Why? Why did you do that?"

The quaking feeling of the approaching orgasm faded away into a buzz that had you clenching around nothing. You hated him sometimes. Despite worshipping the ground you walked on, he could also be a tease.

"I think it is time for you to sit on my face now, don't you think?" He grinned up at you like the Chesire Cat and made a circular motion with his hand at his face. "Use this to make you come instead?"

He knew exactly how to get you.

Seeing the desire in your eyes, he patted his chest. "First slide on up here and take a seat."

You did as you were told, very aware that your arousal was staining his clothes. "Now what?"

"Now you sit on my face."

With a low sigh, you scooted forward until you were hovering over his face. But then you paused.

Copia's hands rested on your thighs, gliding up and down the skin to calm you. "Sit down. I promise it'll be fine."

"Are you sure? I don't want to break anything."

He laughed. "You won't. Just sit."

"But... your nose." You whined, thinking about how one slight slip up could leave it a mess forever. A crooked nose would look good on him, granted, but you did also like the way it looked now very much.

Copia huffed. "I can wait here all day if you like, I have a very nice view, but it's you who will be left with cramping legs and sexual frustration if you do not sit down."

He was right. The bastard. So you sat.

The delighted squeak that left Copia and was muffled against you did not leave you regretting that decision.

There was only a fraction of a second of delay, that had you wondering whether you had suffocated him, before his tongue darted out and swiped against you.

"Oh." Your hips squirmed at the sensation, the angle somewhat different to usual oral. 

Copia's hands gripped your thighs tightly, somehow forcing you to sit against him even harder. It was like the taste of you sent him into a frenzy, it had, that caused him to make his mouth go wild on you. He devoured you. Licking, biting, sucking, shaking his head from side to side. Anything that he could reach was touched by his mouth at least once. 

One of your hands flew to the headboard of his bed, clinging on for stability, whilst the other slapped across your mouth in an attempt to smother the sounds that were attempting to escape you. But as much as you could control the sounds your mouth was making, you could not control the movement of your hips. A primal urge overtook you that had you rutting your hips backwards and forwards. And once your clit hit his nose, you were done for.

A choked cry left your throat, the hand covering your mouth abandoning it's mission and flying down to grip onto Copia's greying hair instead. The grasp you had on him kept him in exactly the position you wanted as you rode his face, pelvis circling so the tip of his nose continuously hit exactly where you needed it to. The Cardinal beneath you had no issues with that and just carried on using his tongue to hungrily eat you like you were his last meal.

So lost in your own ecstasy, you didn't notice the squeaking of the bed springs behind you as Copia uselessly thrust his hips up into the air seeking out a friction that did not exist. However, he suspected he was probably going to come based on the taste of you alone. So sweet. So delicious. So addictive.

You weren't surprised at how little it took to have you approaching the edge of your orgasm with how good it felt. You expected maybe a few more knocks of your clit against his nose would have you there but you were caught off guard when the tips of the Cardinal's fingers dug so deeply into the flesh of your thighs that you predicted you would be seeing bruises sometime soon, and he pushed his face even harder against you. With the added pressure, your body tensed up and you crashed over the edge.

A strangled scream left your mouth as you collapsed against the headboard. Copia smoothed his hands up and down your thighs to calm you down as you slowed your breathing down, eventually lifting a shaking leg to move off of his face and sit down next to him.

The room was silent for only a moment before your beautiful Cardinal spoke.

"Well, that was fun." He chimed happily. "We should do that again."

You glanced over at him, taking in the sight of his skin glistening with the remains of you, looking drunk on the taste. He really was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

[dyns33]

New life

!! SPOILERS - Careful, Venom The last dance spoilers here !!!

I was wondering while watching the movie if that would give me new ideas for Eddie and his tiny alien, and yes, yes it did.

When Y/N had met Eddie Brock in a New York cafe, he had hesitated at first before accepting her into his life.

It had taken him several weeks to open up, talk to her, understand that she liked him, and then admit that he liked her too.

Once he had offered her his trust, he had explained why to her. Really explained everything, adding that he understood that she thought he was crazy and that she would decide to run away from him when he was done.

First, he had completely ruined his career and his relationship with his fiancée Anne by being selfish and stupid. For a long time, Eddie had refused to see the truth, making excuses, but he had to admit that it was all his fault.

Then, there was Venom. The alien symbiote who had brought as much joy as problems into his existence, before sacrificing himself to save him, along with the rest of humanity.

"He was my best friend." he said, trying to hold back his sobs. "He could be annoying, but I wasn't a gift either. We were supposed to see the Statue of Liberty together, but… Well. I miss him a lot. It's weird not hearing from him all the time. It's hard without him."

Not only did these revelations not scare Y/N away, but she found herself even more in love and touched by this wounded man who was doing his best to move forward despite everything he had been through.

Like a wild animal, it took a little more time to reassure Eddie that she really loved him and especially that he wasn't going to lose her.

For their first date, he offered her an ice cream, not far from Lady Liberty. Y/N took his hand, to support him, but especially so that he knew that she wasn't going to try to make him forget Venom.

Just because they were together didn't erase everything he'd experienced with his alien parasite friend, who was a lot like a boyfriend when he told her all their stories.

"Nah, just a friend."

"You said you loved each other."

"Like buddies."

"You had arguments as a couple. He was jealous and protective. You gave him chocolate on Valentine's Day."

"Once ! And to keep him quiet. And the rest was just a symbiote thing."

"You admitted to me that he 'took care of' your erections when he was in full form. Why did you have erections anyway ?"

"… Shit, I was in a relationship with Vee."

He cried again, in shock. Not because he was ashamed, but because he had not understood the nature of their relationship, much more intense than simple friendship. He did not blame Y/N for opening his eyes, as she did not hold back from doing so, thinking that it was necessary for him to grieve properly.

Several months passed, life continuing in an excellent direction.

After using his contacts and abilities, Eddie Brock had become a formidable reporter in New York, even if he was a little more careful about his methods and the people he wrote about.

In his private life, he made Y/N very happy, learning from his past mistakes to become the best boyfriend possible. No secrets, no lies, no manipulation to get information for an article. They were not in symbiosis, but almost.

Much more relaxed and open than before, he kept his calm in most situations. Even when they had some cockroach problems. Or rather one cockroach problem.

"It's still there." Eddie noted while drinking his coffee, observing the insect that was partially hidden behind the couch.

"Do you want me to call someone ?"

"Nah. He doesn't hurt anyone, that little guy. We don't leave food lying around, we throw out our trash. No point in staying here or calling his friends. He must be lost, he'll leave eventually."

"What if he thinks you're so cool that he tells the others to come over just so he can watch you sleep ?"

"Eww, babe, gross. Listen, if he's still here in a week, I'll take care of him. But it must be a neighbor with questionable hygiene who has a colony, he'll go back there."

The cockroach stayed, but like Eddie had said, he wasn't that much of a nuisance. Most of the time he was nowhere to be found, otherwise he stayed in his corner.

Strangely, he showed up when the couple was together, as if he was waiting to watch them. His presence was still abnormal, in addition to being possibly dirty, so Y/N decided to take matters into her own hands, trying to get him out.

"I know you're the most impossible thing to kill on this Earth." she said to the cockroach that was hiding under the closet. "And besides, Eddie decided he didn't want you to die, so let me put you in this jar, I'll take you to a landfill, and you'll be the happiest little cockroach, okay ?"

Of course, the insect wasn't ready to cooperate, putting itself as far away as possible, in an impossible place to reach. It was ridiculous, but Y/N had the impression that it understood perfectly what she was saying.

Eddie found her on the living room floor, her hand under the closet, trying for several hours to catch it.

"Need some help ?"

"Thanks, Eddie, it's between him and me now."

"Poor little thing that has no chance against someone stronger than them. Accept that he's winning."

"You're hilarious. He's staring at me without moving, he's making fun of me, it's personal. I'm pretty sure I saw him smile."

"You been upside down for a long time, babe ?" he asked as he sat down next to her, rubbing her back. "Come on, I'll take care of it, I'll get rid of the horrible monster."

"No, Eddie… Please…"

It was probably the first time someone had dropped their shoe to cry and try to hug a cockroach, but Eddie being an extraordinary man, Y/N was only half surprised. Same thing when the insect started talking again, small tentacles coming out of it to wrap around her boyfriend. She had thought she had imagined that voice.

Losing its dark color, the creature was thrown out the window, while the tentacles remained around Eddie, before disappearing, as if absorbed by his heart. Then an alien head appeared near his shoulder.

"Wait… Is that Venom ?" she asked, a bit lost. "You told me he was dead."

"I thought so too ! Last time, he was just exhausted but still inside me, but this time… Vee, I thought I'd never see you again !"

"Eddie… I told you it wasn't goodbye. It took me a lot longer than I thought to find you. Cockroaches are tough, but their legs are tiny, not as fast as a horse. And then… I saw you with your new love. So I didn't know if you'd want me to come back."

"But of course I…"

Remembering the discussion they had had, Eddie turned to Y/N, as if he was scared. Now that he knew the feelings he had for his symbiote, without ever realizing it when they were together, it was embarrassing to say that he wanted him back while he was in a relationship with her.

Maybe Venom had insisted for a long time that he get back with Anne, because it seemed to be the key to his host's happiness, but then there had been no one between them.

The alien didn't know Y/N. He had spent several days observing her, seeing if she was good enough for his Eddie, and after accepting that she was a suitable partner, he had wondered if he wasn't going to ruin everything by showing himself.

After all, Eddie had often said that it was his fault that he had lost everything. Venom didn't agree, he knew that most of his host's problems were the result of his bad decisions, but maybe he had turned his life upside down a bit, forcing him to give up certain things for him, like Vee had given up certain things to please him.

A relationship was certainly one of those things. With Anne, it might have been possible since she knew about the symbiote, but someone new ? That would have been hard to sell.

"You told her about me ?" Venom realized as he stared at Y/N. "Weren't you ashamed ? Didn't you repress your feelings because of the stupid social conventions that say men should be strong and insensitive ?"

"Of course I told her about you. I made a lot of resolutions after… After. I wanted to honor your memory, while being honest with Y/N."

"That's good, Eddie ! You're a little less of a loser !"

"Thanks, buddy, so nice."

Poor Eddie grimaced, probably accepting that this insult was a compliment, but Y/N quickly understood that there was a parallel, silent discussion going on between them in his head. She could easily guess that Venom was wondering if he would be able to stay, if she would leave because of him, or worse if his host would have to make a choice, which would make him unhappy.

Ensuring the happiness of his human was so important to him that the symbiote would have been ready to stay hidden under their couch, to be close to him without risking disturbing him. Who could hate such an adorable alien ?

"If we don't adopt chickens, and we buy lots of chocolate, I guess cohabitation won't be impossible." she smiled shyly, before they found the courage to ask her opinion.

"Babe ? Really ?"

"You really chose well, Eddie ! She might even be too good for you !"

"Thanks Vee, really super nice again. But babe, are you sure ? He can be… We are… You can say it if you find it weird."

"It's weird, but it doesn't bother me."

Almost every day, Eddie kissed her tenderly, in the morning, before leaving for work, when entering their apartment, when they went to sleep, but he had never been so passionate when he kissed her at that moment, repeating that he loved her.

As if he had been there forever, the alien had surrounded them with his tentacles in an attempt of a hug, commenting on the scene that he considered the most beautiful and romantic thing he had ever seen, even better than in his favorite telenovela with Maximiliano. He immediately ordered them to watch it when Y/N told him that she didn't know who he was talking about.

Not as invested, Eddie fell asleep on the sofa, keeping her in his arms and snoring lightly in her neck, while Venom explained the previous episodes to her with great excitement, as if everything was normal.

[changetyre]

HE MADE ME FEEL DIRTY (DR3) Ⓢ Ⓦ

SUMMARY: Work has been hell for you ever since your breakup with your ex boyfriend. His fragile masculinity making him want to shout out to the world it was all your fault and no one should want to come close to you. (Daniel Ricciardo x Reader)

WARNINGS: STDs, toxic relationships, insecurities, cheating, terribly written soft smut. This one is also a little on the longer side ;) and also not proofread ;(

A/N: First time I write a longer story on here ;) lmk if you like it.

It all started when your boyfriend had slowly become more and more distant from you. You hadn't been dating that long but there was a moment everything changed and from then you couldn't even remember the last time you were even intimate with him, having to satisfy yourself with toys and your own hands for the past 2 months.

He came home one day furious and you didn't understand why but to be honest this was the most interaction you'd had with him in a while. He shoved past you, ignoring your questions before he started packing his clothes.

"What are you doing? What happened?!" You shouted for the umpteenth time.

"What happened is that I had to take a blood test at work today and it came back positive for an STD! This is all your fault!" He yelled.

It took you a second to truly comprehend what he'd said. You had been forced to take the blood test as well but yours came back clean so you knew that only meant one thing but why was he blaming you?

Several people found out. The gossip spread like wildfire in a team like that. But he had a plan, he was so embarrassed by his results and everyone found out that he started blaming you, amongst his friends he called you a whore, and he claimed you cheated on him and that was the reason he caught it, victimizing himself and placing the blame entirely on you.

Work was hell after that, people eyed you, judge you, and all of a sudden people treated you like you were highly contagious, avoiding you, even those who claimed to be your friends.

So when one day one of your co-workers, some would even claim the most important one, approached you and starts talking to you, you were completely startled and taken aback as was everyone else around you.

Daniel Ricciardo just a few days after his first day in office had opted for making conversation with you.

"I'm Daniel." He extended his hand out to you in the cafeteria. You looked down at his hand hesitating, you could feel everyone's gaze on you and it was like the whole building went silent as they witnessed the interaction.

"y/n." You took his hand. You had to admit it made you feel uncomfortable not because of him but because you'd been deprived of touch and attention for so long that it felt wrong.

"Do you mind if I sit with you?" He then asked as he grabbed some food for himself.

"Uhm, are you sure?" You were still hesitant. Why was he doing this? Surely he'd heard what everyone said about you.

But Daniel wasn't afraid of what people thought, he knew exactly what it felt like to have everyone treat you like the ugly duckling.

During your first interaction, you only gave short and quick replies to him not being used to the attention for so long but also not wanting him to ruin his own reputation by talking to you. To be fair you'd lost so much trust in people a part of you felt like it was all a joke.

But as days, turn to weeks and weeks turn to months and Daniel keeps talking to you every day you grow close, and it's only long after that you realize how real your friendship is.

Daniel never gives up talking to you, he hasn't admitted it to you yet but he finds you gorgeous, funny, and interesting.

You were eating lunch at the paddock one afternoon when your mind began spiraling once again and you finally built up the courage to ask Daniel what you'd been wanting to do since the first day he spoke to you. "Danny, why do you talk to me?"

"What?" Daniel was confused by your question.

"C, mon you're not blind, you can see you're the only person in this team who talks to me. And I know you've heard the rumors so why do you talk to me?" you set your fork down and looked at him waiting for an answer.

He set his cutlery down too. "I have heard the rumors." he began.

You looked down, embarrassment consuming you despite the fact that you knew your innocence.

"But I don't give a shit." he shrugged. "For all I care, it's all bullshit, and even if it wasn't I don't care. You're kind, compassionate, funny, gorgeous, and incredible and that's all that matters to me."

You didn't expect Daniel's reply and you felt overwhelmed. "I-" You were speechless.

"Listen I don't know what happened. But I'm ready to listen whenever you want to tell me." Daniel had reached over grabbing your hand across the table.

You weren't sure why but his words made you emotional. Someone was finally willing to listen after so long. You felt tears begin to prickle in your eyes.

"I'm sorry I have to go." You got up wiping your eye quickly before Daniel could notice before you practically ran way from him.

But Daniel noticed. He saw the way your words got caught in your throat and he saw the way you wiped the tears from your eyes but this only prompted him to seek you out more.

___

You stood under the shower letting the water fall over you. You were stuck in your thoughts about what Daniel had said this afternoon. No one had spoken to you like that in a long time and you'd almost forgotten what it felt like to have someone care.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard knocking at your hotel room door. You shut off the water listening out, maybe the knocking wasn't on your door. But then there it was again, louder and more persistent.

You stepped out of the shower and quickly wrapped a towel around yourself. You walked to your hotel door and opened it slightly peaking your head around.

"Daniel?" You weren't exactly sure why you were surprised to see him, it wasn't unusual for him to come visit you at your hotel room or vice versa but given your last conversation you thought he might want to avoid you for a while.

He looked like he had something on his mind and this was confirmed when he opened the door wide pushing past you.

"Look y/n I'm sorry if I said something that I shouldn't have before and I know I said that I would give you time to tell me your story whenever you felt ready but..."

Daniel stopped himself once he saw you hugging your chest trying to cover yourself up as much as you could.

"Oh..." you didn't miss the way his eyes scanned your body. "I'm sorry I didn't know-" He turned around facing away from you.

Although you knew he did it out of respect you weren't able to push away the thought that he turned away out of repulsion. You rushed into the bathroom and pulled on a bathrobe around your body.

"Daniel, what are you doing here?" You finally spoke signaling for him that he could turn around.

He turned around and you saw his eyes scan your body once more, you almost thought you could see a look of disappointment in his eyes which only made you more conscious. Was he expecting you to be fully dressed?

"I didn't mean to push earlier." he spoke finally looking into your eyes. "But I care about you and I've tried to be patient but I can't hide it anymore-" he took a pause.

Nerves filled your stomach. Nothing positive realistically came to mind. "It's okay- I understand you wanna get away from me..." you began, your voice shaky

"Wait what?" Daniel asked confused.

"You stuck with me longer than most people do, but I get it he talked to you, you believed him, and I don't blame you because-" You avoided his eyes

"Hey hey stop what are you talking about-" Daniel walked closer and grabbed your face between his hands gently. "Why would you think that." He wiped his thumbs under your eyes making you realize you had started crying.

"He talked to you? He told you I cheated? Told you I gave him an STD and I'm a who-"

"Shhh." He interrupted you before you could finish. "stop that." Daniel pulled you into his chest. "Don't say that, whatever he said I don't care for it, I only care for you." He reassured you. He held you tightly but once you realized you were only in your bathrobe you started feeling self-conscious once more.

It only sunk in now, coming to realize how being treated dirty for so long has made you feel dirty in your head, you’re scared of people touching you, Daniel touching you despite knowing you never did anything wrong in the first place. Your ex, he made you feel dirty.

You pull away and Daniel notices the sudden shift in your attitude, the way you pull your robe a little closer to yourself, almost as if you were trying to hide in it.

"Why do you do that?" This time Daniel decided not to keep quiet.

"Do what?" You weren't actually sure what he meant.

"Why do you hide from me?" He asked again.

Your eyes snapped up to his, not having been confronted about this ever. "I don't know what-"

"Don't do that." Daniel said sternly but not aggressively.

You just stared at him, you could tell he wasn't going to let this know, he'd come here with a mission and you had a strong feeling it had to do with making you open up.

"I feel disgusting." Your voice broke. "He made me feel so dirty, and gross and people have avoided me so much, they've avoided touching me for so long that it doesn't feel okay anymore, like....like I'm not allowed to be touched anymore," you revealed.

Daniel wondered if you could hear his heart shatter in his chest if you could see the way his chest tightened at hearing your words. The mix of anger and hurt about what someone had done to you, someone so beautiful and pure as you. He wanted nothing but to wrap you in his arms and whisper sweet words to you until he could make you see the woman he saw.

"Let me touch you," Daniel whispered, softly as if not trying to scare you away.

As much as your body screamed to be touched by him you couldn't shake off the discomfort your mind caused. "Daniel I-"

"Please." He pleaded, stepping closer but not reaching out to you yet. "Please let me show you how wrong you are, let me be the one to help you put back what he broke and make you art with my hands."

You just looked at him again, his words were enough to cause all sorts of emotions to flutter in you. And despite your mind telling you to run your heart and body fought harder, giving him a small nod.

Daniel walked closer reaching out to scoop your face in his hands once again. He didn't miss the way your breath hitched and your eyebrows furrowed slightly at the contact.

He was so gentle, stroking your cheeks before his other hands slowly made their way around you pulling you closer to him by your waist.

Your face was so close to his, the closest it had been to another person in what felt like forever it half excited you and half scared you.

"You're so beautiful," Daniel whispered to you before he closed the gap between the both of you planting his lips on yours.

You let out a moan as soon as he began moving his lips, it almost embarrassed you and you would've pulled away if it wasn't for Daniel's hand sliding to the back of your neck and pulling you closer.

For Daniel, it was hard, not because of anything you imagined but because he had been so desperate for this for so long, wanting nothing but to be able to feel you, to taste you and it was almost embarrassing for him how quickly he got turned on by that simple moan that it became evident in his pants.

He began planting kisses across your jaw and down your neck. "Look at what you do to me," He whispered.

You looked down and saw what he was talking about and the smirk that appeared on your lips made you realize the boost of confidence this gave you.

This was enough for you to feel okay with reaching out to Daniel, intertwining your fingers in his curls, and gripping his shirt to pull him closer to you.

"Please make me feel good." You pulled Daniel back up to face you and your words not only took him by surprise but you too.

Daniel wasted no time scooping you in his arms as he walked further into your hotel room and placed you in the center of the bed.

In a quick motion, he removed his shirt chucking it across the room. Your mouth watered at the sight of Daniel's sculpted body that you couldn't help but reach out to feel his body with your own fingers, tracing the squares down his body.

Daniel let out of grown that made the space between your legs tingle. "Don't be such a tease." he leaned down to continue his trail of kisses down your neck.

You giggled but it was soon replaced by a big sigh as Daniel's finger slipped under the collar of the robe pushing it to the side as he began kissing down your collarbone and further and further down.

He got up once again to remove his pants which had now become painfully tight around his legs leaving only his boxers.

"Here." He went to undo the knot that held the robe together but not before looking into your eyes for approval.

Once again your mind tried talking you out of it but you had never felt so sure of anything in your life and you knew you'd be okay, he'd take care of you so once again you gave him a nod of approval.

Daniel pulled the lace that held the robe together and undid it. He then pushed the two sides of the robe apart presenting you completely bare to him. Daniel didn't stop until the robe was completely off you and it joined the rest of his clothes on the ground.

Your arms and hands instinctively went across your body trying to cover yourself.

"Don't hide." Daniel reminded you gently prying your hands off yourself and gently pining them beside you by intertwining his fingers with yours and keeping them in place down on the bed.

He didn't give your mind time to wonder much longer as he continued his mission of kissing your entire body occasionally licking stripes on the way down that had your mind in a haze.

"You ready?" Daniel asked.

And you looked up to realize he was now in between your legs. Once again nodding Daniel continued.

He licked a stripe across your folds which made your chest rise.

"Daniel please-" You begged feeling no shame this time at the desperation in your voice.

"shh, I'll take care of you." he whispered causing his breath to hit your now most sensitive area. Goosebumps filled your entire body.

But he did, he laid another lick along your folds before diving deeper, sucking on your bud for a few seconds before licking it in all sort of directions.

You were a moaning mess above him, squeezing his hands tightly which were still intertwined with yours. You felt Daniel release on of your hands before you felt it grab one of your breasts and he began to flick your nipple with caused an overwhelming sensation across your body.

"Dan....I...I can'-t" you physically couldn't form a sentence, your entire body was consumed in pleasure.

"Yes, you can baby just let go." Daniel could feel the way your pussy twitched on his lips and he knew you were close.

"Oh my...I'm gonna-" You weren't even able to finish before you had let out a guttural moan, your back arching off the bed as your legs shivered from the first orgasm you'd had in way too long, you were sure not even your ex had ever given you an orgasm like this one in your entire relationship.

Once you were coming down from your high Daniel was already above you and in front of you placing soft kisses on your cheek and jaw. "You okay?" He asked with so much care in his voice.

You laughed. You knew you must have looked dazed but the adoration in his eyes was hard to miss which caused you to blush. "Yeah. More than okay." You admitted.

Daniel laid beside you but his body was still turned to yours.

"I want more." you realized Daniel was willing to submit his own pleasure just so you would feel comfortable, so you wouldn't feel pushed but your body ached to feel more of him.

"You don't have to, we can take it slow." Daniel stroked your hair back reassuring you.

"No Daniel, please." You leaned closer to him, your legs crossing with his and you could feel his hard member against your leg. "Please fuck me," you whispered against his lips.

Daniel thought he couldn't get turned on even more but after hearing your words he couldn't hold back anymore. He brought you closer into a deep sloppy kiss, tongues fighting for dominance.

He angled your leg up and over his waist, as he slotted himself between you, he lined himself up with you and luckily you were wet enough that he knew you didn't need lube.

But as soon as you felt his tip close to you those insecurities rose again. "Daniel you don't have a condom." You pointed out, you didn't actually need him to wear one but you wanted to make sure he realized what he was doing.

"I trust you." He looked straight into your eyes as he said so. "But if you want me to put one on I can.

It was hard to believe someone could be so kind to you, it was hard to believe someone could care so much about what you thought after being treated the opposite for so long. You shook your head.

You nodded once again for the night. "Keep going." You voiced.

Daniel brought you into a kiss again before pushing in trying to distract your mind from the sting you would feel. He was slow making sure your walls adjusted to him inch by inch listening to your moans as indications to keep going until he was fully in you.

He waited for your signal to move.

"Fuck me, Daniel." You sighed against his chest.

He began thrusting slowly, hearing your sighs of pleasure, watching and feeling the way you scratched his back and chest in pleasure.

"You like that baby?" He knew you did, he could hear and feel you did but he still wanted to hear it straight from you.

"Yeah." You moaned. "Please faster." you begged.

Daniel propped himself up on his arm before slowly turning you around so he was over you, making sure not to pull out at any point. Once you were on your back he leaned his arms on either side of your head and began thrusting into you deeper and faster.

"Oh, sh*t." You cursed as the pleasure only intensified.

"Ah, baby I'm gonna cum." Daniel moaned, the new angle proving too much for him.

"Me too." You confessed. "Sh*t."

Daniel tried to hold on until you finished so that he could continue and luckily he was able to.

"I'm cumming!" You announced and he could see the way your body shivered under him, feeling you clench around him which was making it almost impossible for him to hold on, after he could tell your orgasm was done he pulled out.

He was ready to cum on your stomach but was completely taken aback when you quickly sat up pulling him closer and into your mouth.

As soon as your lips touched his dick he came inside your mouth, grunting at each spurt that pulsed out of his member watching you take all of it in your mouth.

"Fuck that's hot." He groaned at the last drips that came out of him, watching you lick his tip clean before swallowing.

"Yum." You licked your lips clean with a smile on your face.

"Fuck I love you," Daniel spoke before collapsing beside you.

"What?" You propped yourself up on your elbows to face him.

"What?" Daniel was confused.

"What did you say?" your heart was beating fast again and it wasn't just because of the amazing sex you'd just had.

"Oh." Daniel's eyes widened realizing the words that had come out of his mouth. "Oh, sh*t that wasn't supposed to happen like that."

"Wait, do you mean it?" You sat up this time.

Daniel joined you sitting up and leaning against the headboard. Daniel couldn't help but smile at your incredulity of his words despite everything you'd just done. He pulled you onto his lap.

"Of course I mean it. I love you and I've been trying to find a way to tell you for a while now." He confessed. "And this wasn't the way I planned it, it was definitely more romantic." he laughed.

You were in disbelief, overwhelmed by all the emotions that flooded your mind and body. You couldn't find the words to reply to Daniel, to let him know the way he made you feel so you simply leaned forward and kissed him. It wasn't sloppy, it wasn't deep but it was soft and slow as if you were communicating everything to him through it.

You pulled away needing to breathe. "I love you." you finally whispered back. "I love you so much." You watched the way his lips curled into a smile.

"Thank you for trusting me." He hugged you into his chest.

"Thank you for believing me." You thanked him back finding warmth and safety against his chest.

Yes, despite the fact that you finally felt loved again, you once again felt comfortable within yourself you knew one thing. You wanted no one else in the world to touch you or to look at you this way again except for Daniel.

[celestiarambles]

Hi this may divert from my usual content, but as someone with a platform like this I need to speak up about this.

The Philippines-China maritime dispute has been going on for years now, but lately the tensions had been getting more and more worse to the point it’s super concerning now.

Here’s a bit of a history lesson: China claims that the West Philippine Sea is theirs because of the nine-dash line, but the Permanent Court of Arbitration in the Hague ruled in 2016 that that had no basis under international law. Other than that, the UN Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS) said that China’s historic rights on the territory no longer exists. So basically, the West Philippine Sea belongs to the Philippines.

However, China rejects that decision. They have harassed, intimidated, and even used armed conflict on our vessels. China Coast Guard (CCG) vessels had even used a water cannon against our ships TWICE, in which one incident resulted to getting seven Navy personnel wounded.

Worse, there are also allegations of a spy being planted here. Alice Guo, one of the mayors in Tarlac (a city in the Philippines) had mysteriously risen to power despite having no prior experience or connections whatsoever. Literally no one even knew her in her town. She just claims to live in a simple farm. However, she owns a luxury sports car and a helicopter. And somehow, everything regarding her past is inconsistent; she doesn’t know what her mother’s name was, who she grew up with, no school documents, hell she didn’t even have a birth certificate up until she was 17 years old. This was all brought up because she was involved in the criminal activities (like human trafficking, scams, etc.) of the Philippine Offshore Gaming Operator (POGO) which also has the Chinese involved.

The US has also been taking advantage of the situation by deploying 9 EDCA sites (military bases) for a supposed military pact, but former US Marine Intelligence Officer Scott Ritter has admitted to using the Philippines as a tool to gain leverage over the Chinese.

What has our government done regarding this dispute? They’re too busy infighting to focus on the bigger picture and on how to settle on an agreement with China.

I just want to take the time to speak up and make people more aware about the ongoing dispute. I know that this has been going on for several years now, but my memory and knowledge about the topic may be a bit wonky so I apologize in advance if I had said anything wrong. You can add more information regarding this or correct the information that I've given if I phrased things wrong.

Regardless, I do know one thing: the West Philippine Sea is ours.

Sources:

https://www.reuters.com/world/asia-pacific/south-china-sea-why-are-china-philippines-tensions-heating-up-2024-04-11/

https://www.youtube.com/live/aOrmFJXyAVI?si=P9rPJkJM6BF0NIbW (check 1:57:00)

[braunhamsteren]

Part 3 - Armin is an office worker

Armin is a synonym for the word "responsibility". That's why he became the youngest head of an entire department. Other candidates were not even discussed. This young man was born to manage, structure, and analyze. Despite his cute face, you, as the person whose office was next to his, knew perfectly well that it was better not to anger him.

At first, after his promotion, the older generation who found themselves under his leadership, to put it mildly, did not respect him. They spread gossip and even tried to frame Armin in front of the boss. But as time went on, the numbers grew under his leadership, and the elderly accepted him. Arlert is an excellent speaker, and thanks to his public appearances, your company has made many profitable deals.

"Are you older than me?" Great. It will make it easier for you to admit your mistake."

"Our terms are not being discussed. They are the result of your own past decisions."

You performed parallel functions with him, he was the head of the department, and you were a lawyer. You've traveled to a lot of cities on business trips and you've already gotten used to each other. There was no fault to find with Armin, a neat workplace, respectful attitude towards all his employees and a willingness to solve any work problem (if he can't do it himself, he will quickly find someone who can handle it). All the young specialists who came to the company for an internship wanted to get to him. He really was a role model. But some graduates couldn't stand his demands. And you too had a hard time with him sometimes.

"I don't demand perfection. I demand that you meet the deadline."

"Your analysis saved us from disaster. How can I thank you? Coffee or a couple of days off at the expense of the company?"

"Sometimes I want to smash this presentation against the wall. But I'll just redo the slides. Again."

Sometimes it seemed to you that there was too little of the common man in him…But if you look at him more closely, you can see that he's just a young guy with a responsibility. Small details betrayed his enormous stress-red eyes, hundreds of broken pencils, headaches. Despite the fact that you were not his deputy, you tried to do everything in your power to make him rest sometimes. You have been taking care of him for several months because you are a very good colleague. (yes, yes! You liked Armin Arlert, and there was nothing you could do about it.)

On a hot summer Thursday evening, when the entire department had already dispersed. You were collecting your documents when you heard a muffled groan from Armin's office.

The door was ajar. He sat hunched over the table, clutching his temples with his fingers.

"Armin?" You knocked carefully.

He abruptly straightened up, instantly putting on a mask of composure:

"Did something happen?"

But you've already noticed that his hand was shaking slightly as he adjusted his glasses. That was the last straw.

"That's enough. You got it. I have 30 minutes," you said suddenly, pulling a container out of your bag. "And tom yam soup."

He wanted to protest, but his stomach rumbled treacherously.

"I didn't mean to…"

"It's not a request," you interrupted, placing the container in front of him. "Consider it a court verdict.Not subject to appeal."

Armin froze, then awkwardly reached for a spoon. The first sip and his shoulders finally relaxed.

"Thank you…" he whispered so softly that you barely heard him.

While he was eating, you put the broken pencils in the trash and watered the two unfortunate plants on his closet. Suddenly, he suddenly laughed:

"Do you know what the most ironic thing is? I spent three days preparing a presentation on work-life balance."

You pointed at his monitor:

"Close it. At least for 20 minutes."

He hesitated, but obeyed. And then a miracle happened — Armin leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Without a phone. Without documents.

"When was the last time you went for a walk? Didn't "go to work and back," but just went out to get some fresh air," you asked in the tone Armin usually used to chastise his employees.

"Just recently…" he muttered, without opening his eyes.

"Get changed. We're coming."

"Where to?" Armin asked it so childishly naively.

"For a walk," when he reached for his briefcase and phone, you coldly added. "Without 'work' and everything that might be related to it."

You wandered around the office, and for the first time in a year, he wasn't talking about projects and deadlines, but about his dog, a Jack Russell named Sparkle, who "probably already forgot what I look like." About how Mom, walking with Sparkle, calls every Sunday and pretends to believe his words: "I'm not overworking myself," "I'll be visiting soon." For the first time ever, you saw him really smile- not the office smile on duty, but childishly guilty and sincere.

A month later, you noticed how Armin became more lively and relaxed. He was still responsible and demanding about his work, but without overwork, broken pencils and daily migraines. He even took a couple of days off and went to his mom, who gave you a delicious pie. And when he showed you photos and videos of Sparkle, he smiled and laughed so much. At that moment, it seemed like a little boy with shining eyes was sitting in front of you. You didn't notice how you stopped looking at his phone screen, focusing only on Armin's face.

Noticing your gaze, he asks, slightly embarrassed:

“What? Is something wrong?"

"No, it's simple… I'm glad you're smiling. For real," you looked away, feeling as awkward as possible.

Armin's face suddenly changes, putting the phone aside and asking in a serious tone:

"You know, when I first realized that you were…I'm sorry, it probably sounds stupid, but are you special?"

You looked up at him, not understanding what he was leading to.

"When did I rudely feed you soup and make you go for a walk?" you asked, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

He shakes his head, sits down next to you so close that his shoulder touches yours.

“No. When you put the painkillers in my desk drawer for the third time. You didn't even tell me, you just left them there like it was the right thing to do."

You opened your eyes wide — it was back in winter!

Armin laughed softly and kindly at your reaction.

"Yes, I noticed everything. And herbal tea for sleeping, and the fact that you purposely stay longer at work to check if I'm working overtime, and your little encouraging notes on my desk."

His hand covered yours, fingers gently intertwining.

"I'm just… I didn't know how to say "thank you." How to explain what each of your "accidental" actions meant to me."

You felt your cheeks start to burn.

"Were you just watching me?..all this time?"

“No. I just didn't know how to say it… that I noticed. Every cup of tea, every note, every time you stayed, as if by accident… I was just afraid to scare it off. The way you look at me when you think I can't see."

His fingers gently push a lock of hair away from your face, the touch is so light, as if he is afraid that you will dissolve. You freeze, feeling his hand now resting on your cheek.

"Armin, I…"

But he gently interrupted you.

"And it also turns out that over the past four months, when I called my mom, I talked about you so often that she already considered you her daughter-in-law."

You snorted, poking him lightly on the shoulder:

"Four months? Seriously?"

Armin doesn't dodge, his eyes are shining:

"I keep statistics. Apparently, you were… The ideal candidate?, he replied in a deliberately serious tone.

"A candidate?" You tried to look displeased.

He leans closer.

"For the position of a partner in life. You know, walking together, going to exhibitions, waking up together in the morning…" Armin smiled his most satisfied smile. "The position, by the way, is constant. But of course, you can think about my suggestion as much as you want. I can give you, uh, 10 seconds!"

You couldn't even move, just stared at him in silence, smiling stupidly.

"That's it. 10 seconds have passed. Is silence a sign of agreement?" Armin looked into your eyes with hope, almost like a little puppy.

"Of course, I knew you were a professional negotiator, but this is just the highest level. Maybe I should sign something else?"

Armin pretended that he had just remembered something important:

"Exactly! In our office world, it's impossible without signatures," he turned sideways to you, offering his cheek. "This way, please."

You gently touched his lips, noticing how he blushed. Armin freezes, then slowly smiles — the same childish, sincere smile that everything was started for.

Oh my God! Part 3 was born. I'm on a roll. God, tell me, does anyone like this? Because I hope so! And yes, I won't stop anymore.

Okay, maybe I'll stop for a couple of days after all. I have to go to work.

Part 1 Eren "office boy"

Part 2 Levi "office boy"

[mythicalninjas]

Hi! Idk if you’re requests are still open but!

Could you do a Donnie getting mad/having a bad day and he kinda explodes (with no reason/gratuitamente) with reader (she)? And they stay away from the lair for a while, and happy ending! (Just want heart-crushing angst with happy ending hsuahs)

(Tbh the prompt I actually thought was “Donnie was stressed and tired of being different, reader who’s autistic says they relate, so he explodes saying they don’t, how could they?” But idk if you’re ok with writing that, so I simplified it! ~I’m autistic, that’s why I thought of that~)

If my ask is to complicated or didn’t inspire you that’s tots ok! I understand! (Sorry this ask was so big too!)

Have a good day/ night! ☺️

It's okay, your prompt is amazing ☺️ Sorry for keeping you waiting for too long... I had to deal with college in the past several months.

I hope I did write the way you asked. Enjoy 💜

It was a quiet night in the lair, but that didn't reflect Donatello's internal state. The laboratory was plunged into darkness, save for the dim light of the monitors that cast dancing shadows on the walls. The frantic sound of the keyboard echoed, the only sound apart from the hum of the machines at work. Donnie was exhausted, physically and emotionally. His brain was burning with data overload, with formulas and calculations that didn't fit together as they should. It had been days of incessant research, of failed experiments, of trying to find solutions to problems that seemed to multiply.

Every mistake, every failure, was a nagging reminder that he needed to be better. He had to be better. There was no room for weakness. His brothers depended on him, the world depended on him. And the constant pressure to deliver results was starting to implode inside. Exhaustion weighed heavily on his shoulders, but he kept pushing, ignoring the body that was crying out for rest, ignoring the accumulated stress.

She entered the laboratory, as she had done so many times before. Her steps were soft, as if she were trying not to interrupt, but her presence always brought a sense of comfort that Donnie appreciated, even if he never admitted it out loud. He was so focused that he barely noticed her coming until he felt the soft touch of her fingers on his shoulder.

"Hey, Donnie..." Her voice was soft, a gentle touch to his swirling mind. "Are you all right?"

Donatello barely lifted his eyes from the monitors, trying to recalculate a complicated sequence. "I'm busy now," he muttered, his fingers still running across the keyboard.

She waited for a moment, watching the tiredness on his face. She knew that he threw himself into his work when he was frustrated or anxious, and she had learned to give him space when necessary. But now, there was something different in the air. He seemed more tense than usual, more closed off.

She let out a little sigh, hesitating before speaking again. "I know you're busy, but... maybe it's time to take a break? You've been at it for hours..."

Her touch should have been a comfort, but at that moment, something in Donnie snapped. The pressure, the frustration, the accumulated tiredness - it all blended together in an explosion of emotions that he could no longer control.

“I said I'm busy!” His voice echoed louder than he had intended. He stood up abruptly from his chair, his eyes blazing with anger, anger that wasn't hers, but which ended up being directed at her. “Don't you understand? I can't stop! If I stop, I'll fail. If I fail, everything falls apart! And you here, distracting me with… with your unimportant things!

She took a step back, shocked. The impact of his words had hit her like a punch in the gut. Never, in all the time she had known him, had he spoken to her like that. Always so calm, so controlled… but now, he seemed on the verge of collapse. Her eyes filled with tears before she could control herself, but she refused to let them fall. She didn't want to show how much it had hurt her.

“I'm sorry for… bothering you.” Her voice was low, broken, almost inaudible.

She turned quickly and left the lab before he could say anything else, before the tears flowed. Donnie stood there, his heart racing, the echo of his words still hanging in the air. For a few seconds, he remained motionless, trying to process what had just happened. Then the guilt began to set in, slow and corrosive.

He had hurt someone who had never been anything but kind to him. He had hurt her.

She walked aimlessly through the streets of New York, the cold of the night beginning to bother her, but nothing compared to the tightness in her chest. The emotional pain was much stronger than any physical discomfort. She couldn't stop thinking about his words, the tone of his voice. It was as if the Donnie she knew, the one who always cared, who listened and understood, had disappeared, replaced by someone she barely recognized.

She walked for hours, wandering around the city, trying to find some clarity amidst the confusion of feelings. Part of her wanted to understand why he had exploded like that. He was overwhelmed, that was obvious. But did that justify what he'd said? The sharp words still echoed in her mind, and she wondered if he really thought that.

While she was lost in thought, Donnie was back in the lab, but his focus had completely disappeared. The screens flashed in front of him, but he could barely see what was written. Guilt was consuming him from the inside out. He knew he had made a mistake, that he had said horrible things. The frustration he felt wasn't her fault, and yet he had taken it out on the person who least deserved it.

Finally, he got up from his chair and left the lair. He needed to find her, he needed to correct the mistake he had made. He didn't know exactly what he would say, but he knew he had to apologize, he had to make amends.

After some time, he found her. She was sitting on top of a building, her gaze lost in the horizon. The evening breeze swayed her hair, and Donnie felt his heart squeeze at seeing her so far away, so hurt. He hesitated for a moment before approaching. Each step seemed heavy, weighed down by guilt and regret.

“Hey,” he called, his voice softer than before, almost fearful.

She didn't turn around immediately, but he knew she had heard. Donnie sat down next to her, keeping a respectful distance. The silence between them was thick, full of unspoken words, but he knew he needed to speak, needed to break through that wall he himself had erected.

“I'm sorry,” he began, his voice low, sincere. “I… I shouldn't have spoken to you like that. You didn't deserve that. None of it was your fault.”

She remained silent for a few moments, and he almost thought she wouldn't answer. But then she sighed, her eyes still fixed on the city.

“Why did you do it, Donnie?” her voice was broken, and he realized how much his words had really hurt her. “I just… I just wanted to help you. And you pushed me away.”

Donnie closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of his own failings. “I know. I know you were only trying to help. And I… I was an idiot. I was frustrated, tired, and lost control. But that's no excuse for what I did.”

She finally turned her face to look at him. Her eyes were watery, but the anger had given way to a deep sadness. “You didn't have to hurt me like that, Donnie. I'm always here for you, you know that. And yet… you blew up at me, as if I was part of the problem.”

Her words dug deep into Donnie's heart. He had been the cause of her pain, and now he could clearly see the impact his actions had had. It wasn't just the momentary explosion, but what came after - the insecurity, the doubt. He needed to fix that.

Donnie swallowed, feeling small in the face of what he had caused. “I never meant to hurt you,” he said, his voice full of regret. “You're… the last person in the world I wanted to be cruel to. I was just so overwhelmed, with all the pressure of being the brains, of having to sort everything out for my brothers… And I ended up taking it out on you.”

She sighed, looking at the horizon again. “I understand that you have this responsibility, Donnie. I know how much you carry. But I was also there, trying to share that weight with you. And you pushed me away, as if I wasn't important.”

Her words pierced his heart harder than any physical attack could. She was right. He had spent so long concentrating on his own burden that he didn't realize how much she was trying to help, how much she wanted to be there for him.

“I was wrong,” he said, with more conviction this time. “I was wrong about everything. I know I can be controlling and stubborn, but I need you. I… want you by my side. You're important to me. More than I can express.”

She remained silent, absorbing his words. He moved a little closer, reaching out hesitantly and placing his hand gently on hers.

“I promise,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “I promise I'll try to be better. I'll work on myself, on how I handle things, so that this doesn't happen again.”

She looked at him, her eyes finally meeting his, assessing the sincerity she saw there. And she realized that, although he had made a mistake, he was willing to do whatever it took to make it right. It was a long road, but she knew Donnie was committed to walking it.

“I want to believe that, Donnie,” she murmured, her voice still tinged with a slight pain. “I just… need some time.”

He nodded, understanding. “I understand. And I'll give you as much time as you need.”

They sat in silence for a few more minutes, side by side, watching the city lights. The noise of life below continued, indifferent to the emotions that filled the top of that building. But there, between them, time seemed to have slowed down, making room for reconciliation, for forgiveness.

She leaned forward, resting her head on his shoulder, a small concession. He felt relief run down his spine, as if that simple gesture was proof that things would eventually be all right. He knew he was lucky - lucky that she was still there, by his side, even after everything.

Donnie wrapped his arm around her, gently pulling her closer, as if he were trying to protect her not only from the outside world, but also from himself. His heart was pounding, but this time, not out of guilt or anger, but out of gratitude. He knew he had a second chance, and he would do his best not to waste it.

They stayed there for a while longer, the silence now less heavy, more comforting. The cold night wind blew lightly, but Donnie felt the warmth of having her close again. She was still hurting, and he knew it would take time for everything to heal completely. But he was willing to wait, willing to do whatever it took to win back her trust.

Finally, she stood up slowly, and Donnie followed her. She gave him a small smile, still shy, but which warmed his heart. “Let's go home,” she said, and those words were all he needed to hear.

Together, they descended from the building and headed back to the lair. The walk back was silent, but the tension between them had eased. She didn't hold his hand, but she didn't push him away either. For Donnie, that was a start.

And he knew that, in time, they would find a way to heal - together.

*****

Reblog to support and let more people read my content 🫶

[hozierandco]

maybe something like what dating callum turner would be like

Here it goes. Mind you, that's me going back to writing so it's gonna be quite lame I fear, sorry in advance.

You two would meet at a formal event, such as a mutual friend's wedding

You would be quite flirty from the get-go, convinced that you would never see him again and that the shot was worth it, even if you got rejected

He would not get a clue at first, too preoccupied not to mess around for his buddy's big day but after a few drinks in his system, he would go along with your shennanigans

You two would dance until most guests were calling it a night

You would end up half passed-out, sweating out alcohol and sparks of laughter

He would get your number. You give him with no hesitation, you're in for a ride with that man, even if it is just a one night stand

You two would go on your first official date a week later, going on a walk through Portobello Market

At some point, he says that he wants to make a strawberry pie. You dare him to bake for you at his flat

First date becomes a second one and quickly, you are going on several dates with him, not realising that it's already been three weeks and you still haven't kissed

You make up for that poor judgment of yours by kissing him in Hampstead Heath the next time you see him

Right on time for him to leave to shoot a film. He promises to call you any time he gets the chance. And he doesn't fail

After a few calls, you're craving for more. How long has it been since the last time you wanted this kind of attention to your body?

You tell him "I miss you" and immediately regrets it. You don't want to sound needy but he jumps on that line and reciprocates

The next morning, you wake up with plane tickets sent to your mail address. You're packing a light suitcase and you hit the airport

From now on, you both make it a tradition for you to visit every set he's adventuring himself on

Once you arrive, he tells you he managed to get a day off. You know what you want to do, and that involves seeing him naked

You find out that he's the most caring when it comes to this sort of activity. He knows what he wants and does not flinch when it comes to moaning it in your ear but he's always putting your needs first

You decide to make it official

He comes back to London after a few weeks that seemed like a century and you two go back to casually dating the way you used to, going on walks with his dog, cooking, going to the cinema

He wants you to meet his friends after a while, then his family. You want him to see your pals too. Of course, there are some of his friends you don't really get along with but for the most part, you find common points of interest and his friends accept you quickly. And his family, you may ask?

His family has adopted you the minute they saw how happy Callum is when surrounded by your shadow. It takes a hot minute for his dad to appreciate you but that's only because girls have broken his son's heart in the past

After a year, you decide to move in together, to Callum's dog's greatest joy as she loves you too. Oh, on that note, it only took two months for Callum to confess his love for you

Dating him is in general pretty chill and apart from the jobs afar, it's like any commuting job there is

On rare occasions, you have to avoid tabloids once Callum makes it big but Callum knows how to play with photographers and always finds a way to avoid the attention

In interviews, he's at first elusive about his love life and tabloids start rumours about him dating his co-stars. It is only when it comes pressing, and not a joke anymore, that he's got to defend his situation and admit to the world that he's happy with someone who prefers not to be known as "girlfriend of" and would rather keep it on the low

[lexiepaprika]

wrote a little reflection on my past two and a half years of being gal. i originally wrote it for my blog but y'all got a lil shout out in it so i figure i should post it here too

just processing some feelings i've been having lately. i'm kylie jenner realizing stuff

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

For the past few months, I've been reflecting on my relationship with gyaru. And it really does feel like a relationship. We've had our ups and downs, but overall it's been a wonderful and rewarding experience. 

Recently (although I'm sure this is no shock considering my blog content), I've been drawn more and more to old school gyaru, which doesn't include a lot of today's most popular and widely accepted signifiers of gal. As a result, I've struggled with feeling like I'm easily perceived as gyaru. 

It's my personal opinion that it is exceedingly difficult for a non-East Asian (particularly non-Japanese) gyaru to read as gal when wearing more "historically accurate" (that sounds pretentious, but I can't think of another way to phrase it) 90s-gyaru make-up. These days, contact lenses and a droop are all-but required to be gyaru as a foreigner, even if the community at large might be hesitant (or even resistant) to admit it. 

I used to do more 2010s/tsuyome make-up at the beginning of my gyaru journey. I do (and did) like the way it looked, but it wasn't super comfortable. I also think that style of make looks best with post-2008 gyaru styles (a la yamanba, tsuyome, and hime), and I've realized (or come to terms with, rather) that tsuyome does not suit me. They say black is universally flattering, but I don't think it does me any favors. I think the bright colors of ganguro do my complexion and hair color a world of good. 

I'm not considering abandoning gyaru; not at all! But I've been thinking a lot about the style, my performance of it, and what I want out of the fashion and community at large. 

✦

I've mentioned this before, but after going off birth control, I gained about 15 to 20 pounds. I want to preface this by saying that weight gain and loss (especially for women) is a sensitive topic. I’m only speaking from my own experience, and I want to acknowledge that some of what I’m about to say isn’t healthy or body-positive thinking. If you feel this might be triggering, please skip to the next section.

With that said, I've been feeling... well, I've been feeling less confident. It has less to do with my actual figure and more with the fact that most of my clothing doesn't fit anymore. 

It was a bit devastating, actually. Living in Japan, finding clothes that fit me sometimes feels like an exercise in futility. I'm tall by Japanese standards, so pants are never long enough. Even XL in Japanese sizes don't typically work due to the shape of my body: larger thighs and hips vs a smaller (by comparison) waist; a larger bust than the Japanese average. 

It is 2025, and even in Japan there have been some strides (minor though they are) towards more accessible clothing, but as a gyaru...

I know I'm not the only gal to complain about this, and I recognize that I'm still rather straight-sized and my struggles are not as severe as those who are plus-sized. But I have to admit, as a gal who loves Alba Rosa and CocoBongo, it's a bit demoralizing to see all these cute clothes on Mercari JP and know that I wont fit into them. Even if I were to starve myself, they still likely wouldn't fit due to the way my body is shaped. I am a woman and most of those clothes were made for Japanese teenagers. This isn't an insurmountable problem. And as anyone with a body knows, weight fluctuates. It's simply the reality of being human. 

I say all of this as a way to explain where my mind is at. I miss putting together coordinates and feeling great when wearing them. These days, I feel ugly and massive. Intellectually, I know that being "fat" is not an insult and that being thin is not a requirement for gyaru. But years and years of social conditioning on what it means to be a beautiful woman has no doubt effected the way I perceive myself. That, and (let's be honest) gyaru has always favored thin bodies. 

All the girls featured in Egg magazine are (and were) incredibly thin. We might know and acknowledge that gyaru is for everybody, but all the media (Egg is considered the gyaru bible, for fucks sake) points to the fact that the "best" gyaru or the most celebrated ones inhabit a thin, teenage body. 

✦

In the past year, I've fallen in love with old school gyaru. It's without a doubt my favorite period of gal history and I've had such a great time learning about its origins and collecting many of the brands that were popular at the time. But the more I've begun to wear old school (specifically between the years of 1996-2003) make-up, I've noticed that I don't always "look" gyaru. I feel gyaru, but I don't know if I would be confident posting the make onto a gyaru community. At first, I tried to identify what the reason for this was. Do I need to be tanner? More white shadow? More eyeliner? I've experimented with it all. 

There's a general rule of thumb among veteran gals that basically assesses a gyaru look on the basis of a few key elements: tan, make, hair and nails. If you're lacking in one, you have to go harder and heavier in the other areas. I wholeheartedly agree with this. 

So, by this logic, if I am doing the "more subtle" old school make, then I should being going harder in the other areas. But what I think people perceive as "going harder" in gyaru is more associated with 2010s gyaru styles such as tsuyome or the modern and Tiktok-ified version of gyaru kei. Old school gyaru weren't yet deco-ing their nails to the extent that the gals in the 2010s were. In fact, most 90s gyaru favored square-shaped nails over the iconic claws of kuro gyaru. And as a ginger with a pale complexion, there is only a certain level of tan that I can realistically achieve before it starts to veer towards racial mockery. 

Nothing is stopping me from blending substyles. As much as the gaijin gyaru community favors historical purity, the reality is that what gyaru is in 2025 is an amalgamation of all of gyaru history's "best ofs." It also favors more kawaii-esque elements such as dolly circle lenses and spikey-manga lases, both of which were not common among 90s gals. 

This begets a question: is it possible for a non-Japanese person to look gyaru while in old school gal sans droop and circle lenses? Has gyaru evolved past this more subtle variation? 

I'm not sure what to make of these feelings. My love for old-school gyaru fashion and history is unwavering, but should I abandon the gyaru moniker in favor for something more nebulous? Should I abandon labels entirely? 

It's a weird question because I've spent so much of the last two years immersing myself in all things gyaru. Giving it up now feels like defeat. It feels wrong. But I also have respect for the style and the community, and I don't want to be here if I can't "read" as gyaru. I don't want to take up space.

✦

In all other realms, I am extraordinarily happy. I have a partner who I love and who loves me, I've discovered my love for teaching, I have friends I love, and I love living in Tokyo. I'm surrounded by love. 

The above issues don't effect my life outside of the few moments when I think long and hard about myself as gyaru. Divorced from this label, I am simply Lexie who is now 29 years old; whose body has changed and will continue to change in the future. But I don't want a divorce. Gyaru is important to me. 

As I write this, I am starting realize that I am speaking on gyaru solely as an online performance. I feel the most insecure about my body when I see it reflected back at me in photos; when I’m wearing my ganguro clothes and wishing I were thin like the Japanese gyaru they were originally designed for. I feel the worst about my own expression of gyaru when I notice that the most popular modern gyaru on Instagram and Twitter are the ones with giant circle lenses and vague kawaii fashion.

If my goal is to be a "popular gyaru" online, there is nothing stopping me from going to back to that tsuyome look. But that's an inane goal. 

It’s interesting (and a little unsettling) to be someone who studied media and communications in university, who fully understands how social media is designed to addict us and feed us a false sense of validation, and yet still fall victim to it. 

I had begun to associate my validity as a gyaru with the amount of attention my looks or make received online, which, admittedly, has never been a whole lot. This is not healthy thinking, and it shouldn’t be the point of gyaru. I know this, but "knowing" and "feeling" often act independently of each other, and the feelings...well... tend to feel the most real.

✦

And that's all there is to it.

I'm writing this because it feels good to get out. I've also somehow managed to cultivate a small group of amazing mutuals (of which I am forever grateful) and if anyone's going to give me good feedback, it'll be them.  

I don't know what conclusion I'm drawing from this. I don't think there is one. Not yet. 

The only thing I'm pretty certain of is that gyaru, like anything else in life, is an ebb and flow. I might be ebbing now, but the flow will come again. It's inevitable. 

[queenshelby]

Our Little Secret (Part 13)

Pairing: Dark! Cillian Murphy x Virgin! Reader

Warning: Infidelity, Brief Mention of Stillbirth

Notes: This will not be a love story. It will be dark, twisted and kinky. Cillian is portrayed as totally off cannon.

Two weeks had passed and you had almost moved on with your life which did not involve your family. 

Your mother had kicked you out of her own house following your tryst with Cillian. But as luck would have it, your cousin Lukas had offered you a place to stay after Emma's parents too would not allow you to remain at their family home for more than a week.

You had to find a job quickly to sustain yourself and fortunately, you managed to secure employment at a local bookstore. The hours were flexible, and they paid decently, making your living situation somewhat manageable under these circumstances.

School, however, had to give way to your new lifestyle and you chose to transfer to college in the evening in an attempt to finish your education.

As far as Cillian was concerned, you had not heard from him since that afternoon, leaving you in a state of limbo regarding your relationship status with him.

From the local papers, you since learned that he had finally left Danielle and was now publicly fighting for custody of his son Max who the columns claimed was not his actual son at all.

Yet none of this mattered as you sat there staring blankly into space, haunted by memories and regret. Overwhelmed by guilt and confusion, you tried to block out the past few months - how you became entangled in such a mess with no future, only moments spent locked away from the world. But, it wasn’t easy. It felt as though the entire universe conspired to punish you for daring to experience passion beyond societal norms, yet you continued searching deep inside yourself for answers that wouldn't come easily.

You were pregnant with Cillian's child and an abortion was not currently something you could afford emotionally nor financially, forcing you to confront your reality alone. For the first time in years, the choices you made seemed to echo hollowly in your ears as you attempted to navigate this complex web of deceit, betrayal, and self-discovery.

"Em, I do not know what to do," you admitted honestly, breaking down in tears as she visited you, just like she did every day after you finished work. 

Emma pulled you close, offering comfort as she held you tight.

"We're going to figure this out together," she assured you reassuringly, wiping away your tears. "But I honestly think that you need to tell Cillian," Emma added cautiously. "He has a right to know."

Her advice struck a chord in you, causing you to sit upright and nod thoughtfully.

"I asked him if he could meet, about a week ago, and he never got back to me, Em!" you said, feeling worthless and unwanted.

"He is going through a lot himself and he doesn't know about you carrying his child. Maybe you should try and give him a call again?" Emma interjected, attempting to mediate.

Despite Emma's suggestion, you remained hesitant, unsure whether reaching out to Cillian was the right decision. Nevertheless, you decided to pick up your phone and call him regardless of the consequences.

After a series of rings, someone else picked up on the other end – a stranger.

“Hello, can I speak to Cillian please?” you asked politely, trying hard to maintain composure amidst growing anxiety.

"Who am I speaking to?" replied the unfamiliar voice, curiosity evident in her tone.

”This is Y/N and I really need to speak with him,” you introduced yourself, taking a deep breath in preparation for what might follow. “Is Cillian available, please?” you begged and, just after you did, there was silence on the line for several seconds before the woman spoke up again.

"So, you are the homewrecker?" she snarled bitterly, anger radiating from her voice.

You flinched upon hearing those harsh words directed at you. You didn't expect the person answering Cillian's phone to actually know who you were, but then again, you did not know about the woman on the other line either.

"Listen, my brother isn't available. Don't call again. Please don't bother him anymore," came the venomous reply. Taken aback by the hostility, you couldn't understand why she reacted so aggressively when you hadn't even spoken poorly of Cillian. After a momentary pause, you found your voice.

"Actually, it's important we talk, whether you like it or not," you stated resolutely, ignoring the sharp edge in her voice. There was another brief silence followed by a mocking laughter that broke the air.

"Listen sweetheart, Cillian is going through legal proceedings against his wife, Danielle, because of you. He should not be speaking to you and if you call this phone again, I will provide you with a cease-and-desist letter on my brother's behalf. Any further contact will be considered as harassment, " she threatened ominously making you realise that the woman on the other end of the line was not only Cillian's sister, but also his solicitor, handling his custody case. 

You recalled having met her at the funeral a few weeks ago. Her name was Alison and she worked at one of the largest law firms in Dublin. 

As the conversation progressed, it became apparent that she despised you with an intensity that took you off guard. To make matters worse, she insisted you ceased communication with Cillian altogether. This was problematic considering she served as both Cillian's attorney and sister, putting her in a unique and potentially influential position.

You struggled to comprehend the full extent of your predicament until now. How were you supposed to inform Cillian about the child growing inside you without incurring the wrath of his sister?

It appeared impossible. Nonetheless, you had to reach out somehow, eventually, and hope for understanding from both sides despite their conflicted history.

As days turned into weeks, you grew increasingly anxious and restless, worrying constantly about how you were going to break the news to Cillian as the dire three-month mark drew nearer and you had yet another appointment with a local social worker to discuss your situation.

She offered you both, a community funded loan to carry out the procedure you needed or the option of putting you in touch with an adoption agency so that, further down the track, you could give up your child if you desired to do so.

Although it may seem cruel, it seemed practical and logical in light of your situation and, in the end, even Emma agreed with you on that front. The idea that you could choose whether or not to become a parent appealed to your desire for control over your destiny. However, this was easier said than done. Having a baby meant drastically altering your course forever, but you also knew that, not having the baby, might cause you regret. 

The choice loomed large, casting its shadow over your daily existence. You frequently found yourself pondering the gravity of your options while walking along the quiet streets surrounding your temporary residence late at night. You often stopped in your tracks, contemplating your fate as a result of your irresponsible actions.

Life seemed determined to play itself out according to the chaos you created. Every passing day brought you closer to facing the inevitable truth and this truth was now something you had to confront by yourself. Without the man who caused all this by your site. 

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@heidimoreton @nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter

[savage-rhi]

Hello! Can I ask for a drabble with a mix of these prompts, please: "Saying ‘I love you’ for the first time." and "hesitant kisses, but when they part one whispers 'do it again. please.'" between Ignis and a female reader. Thank you. Also, thylacine ;)

@blossattic Here you go! Sorry it took over a year x.x

The years in Eos hadn't always been kind to Y/N. Ever since she broke away from Niflheim to plant roots elsewhere, she'd met nothing but consequence after consequence. Most of Y/N's possessions were lost during the journey when the ship carrying her and hundreds of others was caught in a storm of epic proportions. Whatever wasn't confiscated at the Lucian border, she lost to Duscae's relentless humidity. Gods be damned—the number of jobs she cycled through to find a place to rent, only to get attached and have to leave again.

Sacrificing her imperial citizenship meant several things to Y/N. First, it was her silent protest against a war she knew Niflheim was largely responsible for, regardless of the propaganda Aldercapt and his chancellor spread to the masses. And second, it was to honor her family's long-held dream of travel—one none of them had the chance to fulfill in their lifetimes. With the borders tightening and tensions mounting between Lucis and Niflheim, Y/N took the only realistic chance she had and fled.

Now, in the present, she began to wonder if she made the right call. That scared her more than the crude remarks Lucians made when they found out she was a Niff. More than the fear of losing a roof over her head. And though she took it on the chin and went to work, the fear followed.

Maybe that was why Ignis first noticed her at the gas station—perhaps he'd been drawn to her fear. It would've explained the way he stared the moment he stepped into the convenience store and why he struck up a sincere conversation—aside from taking a break from his compatriots' antics. Why, even after the months passed, he kept coming back. The conversations became hangouts. The hangouts became dates, and so on. Whatever the case, the day the boys rolled into the station with the Regalia, looking to unwind from their trip, changed Y/N's course forever. And she wanted to thank them a thousand times over. That would have to wait. For tonight, she basked under the stars with Ignis, her head resting on his shoulder as they gazed out over the distance, watching the soft glow of Lestallum's lights flicker in and out.

"Do you like Lestallum?" Ignis murmured.

"A lot, actually," Y/N admitted with a soft smile, nuzzling closer. "It's nice living there and not directly in a swamp anymore. The people are kind enough."

Ignis smiled, closing his eyes as a calm breeze brushed past them. "I don't suppose you'd want to leave anytime soon?"

"Well, I mean, I just moved into the flat two weeks ago," Y/N blinked a few times, leaning away as he turned to face her. "Why do you ask?"

It suddenly became quiet, so quiet Y/N could hear every cricket chirp and frog croak in the region. The stillness sank into her gut like a rock. Ignis wasn't always easy to read, but when he got serious, there was a look in his eyes—like dying embers waiting to reignite into haunting flames. She braced herself as those eyes softened, filled with something reverent.

"Would I be overstepping," he said gently, "if I asked you to come with me to Insomnia, just for a while?"

Y/N’s eyes widened. "Insomnia? The capital?"

Ignis nodded. "I'd love to give you a formal introduction to King Regis himself."

"Holy crap," Y/N breathed, not realizing she'd been holding it in until it escaped. Ignis laughed at her reaction, prompting her to scrunch her face and gently nudge his chest. He ignored it, his smile only growing wider.

"I mean, I'm honored—grateful even—to get that chance, but…why?"

Ignis tilted his head slightly. "What do you mean why?"

"I—I don't know, um…" Y/N faltered. There were a million valid reasons why this could be a bad idea; her being a former imperial was the biggest red flag of them all. But before she could spiral, Y/N felt Ignis's fingers slip between hers. His touch grounded her.

"The king is like a father to me," Ignis said softly, voice steady—for both their sake. "And it's important that he meets the person I love."

"Love?"

A soothing quiet settled over her as Ignis reached up with his right hand and gently cupped her cheek. He leaned in slowly, brushing his lips against hers. She barely felt it; it was so light—so careful, but it made her heart leap from her chest all the same. The feather touches became soft pecks, and soon Y/N didn't know where she ended and Ignis began. When the moment reached its crescendo, they pulled apart, breathing softly against one another.

"I love you," Ignis whispered, his eyes fluttering open as Y/N's right hand came up to cup his cheek in return, her thumb trailing gently across his skin.

"Do it again," she whispered. "Please."

Ignis grinned, and for a moment, Y/N felt the gods could smite her on the spot—and she'd get the last laugh. He was so beautiful inside and out, too breathtaking for words.

"As you wish."

And he loved her. Truly loved her.

The years in Eos hadn't always been kind to Y/N. But as she leaned in for another kiss, heart beating in time with his, she felt in her gut, deep in her bones, that the gods had ordained every hardship she'd endured so that she could live long enough to have this one moment, and he was worth every second of it.

Her Ignis.

She had lost everything, but he was hers.

If you like my work and feel generous, feel free to donate to my ko-fi account or my cash app account!

Cash App: $JayRex1463

[dyns33]

Delayed

I said I would wrote about Renaldo from SNL 50. And I'll do it again I'm sure.

"Tell me you didn't do that. Tell me you didn't invite Renaldo."

Y/N couldn't really be mad at Dee, her best friend and maid of honor at her wedding, to whom she had decided to entrust part of the organization so as not to stress too much, trusting her blindly.

It was her fault if she had handed her phone to her and told her to take names for the invitations, in addition to her online friends and Mark's family members.

It would have been smart to specify that she could invite everyone, except Renaldo.

No one knew about Renaldo.

A story as quick as it was passionate, which had taken place during the long vacation she had decided to take after her studies to travel and relax before starting the big 'adult' life.

As she hesitated at the beach bar between the dozens of possible cocktails, he had approached her with his radiant smile to offer his help, and his company for the rest of the day if she wanted it, then the night, then the week, and finally the whole stay.

Quite honestly, Y/N had spent magical moments with him. Charming, funny, terribly sexy, she had only had one tiny reproach to make to him. Renaldo loved to flirt, with everyone.

His former lovers were not a problem, everyone had a past. He was openly bi, which made him even hotter.

But despite her pleas, he continued to talk to everyone, to smile at them, to dance with them, his mouth near their ear, his hands on their hips, his eyes full of desire.

Even though she was certain that he had never cheated on her while they were together, Y/N did not like this behavior at all. It made her feel like she wasn't good enough, and maybe one day, if he realized it too, it would happen.

It wasn't good, but she ended up ghosting him, after three months of dating, deciding she had taken enough vacations, going home and changing her number. She could have told him about it, but he would have tried to hold her back, and she knew she couldn't resist him. Time had passed, until she met Mark.

Mark was nothing like Renaldo. He was kind, cute, calm. He offered her security and normality. Like most couples, they had decided to get married after several years of dating, then planning to buy a house together, have children, the whole dream life.

Well, maybe not completely the dream life. Y/N admitted that it was rather boring. There was clearly something missing, fire, sparks, the butterflies in her stomach when Renaldo held her in his arms.

But she couldn't think about him anymore. It was over, long ago. She had kept pictures, and his number, convincing herself that it was just in case he ever tried to reach her so she wouldn't answer. And now he was invited to her wedding.

"Sorry !" Dee said, pouting. "I didn't know ! He sounded so happy on the phone when I said your name. He's excited to come… But I can call him to uninvite him !"

"The wedding is in two days… I should have looked at the list sooner, it's not your fault. Listen, everything's going to be fine. Put him at a table as far away from mine as possible, close to the bar, with lots of hot singles people, and everything should be fine."

"Oooh. Is he a hottie ? Am I allowed to…"

"No ! I mean… Yes, of course, I'm with Mark, I'm engaged, I'm very happy, no problem."

If Mark felt her nervousness the next day, he probably thought it was because of the big day that was approaching. For her part, Y/N kept telling herself that she didn't love Renaldo at all anymore. He might be accompanied. He had probably forgotten her a long time ago, like all his other lovers before her.

The assembly was moved when she entered the great hall, dressed in white and looking at the ground, face hidden by her veil. The shy bride, they probably thought. In truth, the bride who wanted to avoid meeting the gaze of anyone other than her future husband.

Her stress still at its peak, she did not listen to the priest's speech at all, simply waiting for the sign to say her sentence, hold out her hand, and be kissed.

"If anyone has any reason to oppose this marriage, let them speak now, or…"

"Me ! I do ! I oppose !"

Y/N was very happy that her veil hid her face, because at that moment, hearing that voice, there was a mixture of annoyance and at the same time relief, which distorted her features.

Slowly she turned to the audience, and in the middle of the aisle, proud in his black and white suit, shirt open, Renaldo stood there, finger extended towards her.

"Amor ! Mi dulce musa, caliente como el sol, apasionada como el océano, temblorosa como una tormenta, you haunt my days and nights ! Become mine again and I will worship you like the goddess you are, as I should have done from the beginning !"

"… Renaldo. This is really not the time."

"This is the only time, mi ángel ! You were gone, you weren't answering my messages. If this ridículo pequeño hombre loves you as much as I do, if he makes you tremble as much as I do, if you are totally happy, then I will go back to my seat."

This was the time. With a word, she could confirm the choice she had made several years ago, forgetting forever this torrid romance to vocalize about a simpler future.

Yet she hesitated. And everyone noticed that she hesitated, staring at Renaldo like a deer in front of a truck that was rushing towards her. Her heart accelerated a little more, when it seemed impossible, because even if she spoke now, Mark would probably take it badly.

"He's fucking his secretary !"

It could have been a good thing that the looks were disinterested in her to go to Dee, embarrassed near the priest, who was pointing at the groom.

"I didn't know if I should tell you, I found out just before the ceremony. I heard him on the phone with her, they've been sleeping together for months. I'm sorry !"

There was a commotion in the room as Y/N backed away from Mark who had taken on a guilty look, stammering out ridiculous explanations.

Maybe it wasn't love at first sight, not real love at all, not a revelation, but she had convinced herself that she could trust him, this nice, quiet, polite, smooth, terribly boring man.

The stress had disappeared, replaced by an intense rage, which could not be satisfied even if she started yelling at him, insulting him or slapping him.

Hands gently rested on her shoulders, massaging her to calm her trembling, a kiss placed on her neck.

"Ask me, Corazón, and I'll break his jaw here and now." Renaldo suggested, pressed against her back, but fixing Mark with a predatory gaze.

"… Take me away from here."

"Come on, Amor."

Ignoring the cries of protest from cheater and the guests, Y/N found herself in a taxi, next to her former lover. He kept an arm around her, but he didn't try anything else, contrary to what she might have thought.

"You warned me, mi ángel. I was young and stupid, but that's no excuse. You told me I made you suffer because I partied too much. And yet I loved you like crazy, I thought I could prove to you that you had nothing to fear. It's because of bastardos estúpidos like that Mark that divine creatures like you doubt their greatness. Cretino. He was going to become the luckiest man in the world. But his stupidity, my luck. If you'll have me, Amor."

"Oh, Renaldo… I don't think I've ever wanted anyone else."

"Mi vida !" he cried, throwing himself on her to cover her with kisses. "Mi sol, mi cielo, mi todo !"

A few months later, a new wedding was celebrated, in the same place, with Y/N's family and friends, who then met Renaldo's, as crazy as him.

He continued to be very open, loving to talk to people, smiling, laughing, but finding a balance to not hurt his sweet lover and let the world know that he was a faithful taken man, waving his wedding ring with pride, or pulling Y/N towards him announcing "My wife !" loud enough for everyone to hear.

They talked about home, children, and the whole dream life together. And this time, it was a certainty.

[goodmorgan]

Perfect Strangers

Chapter 6: A Ride to Remember

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!Reader

Series Summary: When a stranger appears at your homestead to steal from you, you set out to help him instead. What follows is a reckless relationship with potentially dangerous outcomes.

Previous Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

Chapter Summary: Your relationship with Arthur deepens over the course of several weeks, when vows are made and lessons are taught.

Word Count: 13K

Tags: 18+. MDNI. NSFW. Smut, Porn With Plot, Mutual Pining, Angst, Fluff, Infidelity, Oral Sex (m! and f! receiving), Unprotected PinV Sex, Cowgirl, Semi-public Sex, First Times, Possessive Arthur Morgan

Taglist: @how-the-heck-would-i-know @pinkiec6-rubi

AO3 Link

A/N: I am soooooo sorry for taking this long to finish this chapter. But I've been through somethings in the past few months I hope you understand. To make it up for you, chapter is extra long with tons of smut! It's divided in several parts to ease reading.

You've never been on top before. None of your past lovers ever thought of letting you take charge, much less suggest you actually do it. So when Arthur asked if you could, it took you very much by surprise.

"Think you can handle it, missy? Hmm?" His eyes glimmer with a devilish spark as he invites you into his lap, his back leaned against the headboard of your bed. He squeezes the inside of your thigh in encouragement as you kneel by his flank.

"I think so." You hesitate, unsure if you'll be able to please him in a position you have no experience in. But then you look at his lustful eager eyes and you know you'll never be able to say no. And you have to admit, the idea of riding him has you pretty aroused yourself.

"Come on. I'll help ya."

His back temporarily leaves his rest as his hands reach the side of your waist, guiding you up as you climb over his legs, sitting atop his strong bulky thighs. Your core settles right in front of his fully hard cock, now slicked with his precum as it lies on his stomach, impatient for more after you've spent the last few minutes stroking it. You feel yourself twitching uncomfortably with titillation at the thought of taking it all in.

He removes one hand from you to catch the base of his member, tilting it up, ready for you to mount. "No need to rush, darling. Take your time." He means to put you at ease despite his obvious excitement as the mischief in his smile deepens, the tip of his tongue sneaking out, making you even more eager to start.

You settle your hands on top of his chest, pressing down for support as you raise your rear, angling your entrance above the tip of his cock as you kneel again. Arthur's hand tightens as you hover above him and soon enough you feel him prodding between your folds. You look at him to ask if you can go ahead.

"Easy does it, darling." His thumb caresses the side of your belly to relax you, but you feel his cock shift below you in ardent anticipation.

You move slightly downwards, enough to feel his member peek inside, stretching your opening to make your breath hitch. Arthur removes the hand from his cock, aiding you in your lowering motion with both hands on your hips, supporting your weight so you don't plunge too fast. Inch by inch you lower yourself as you take all of him inside you, your walls stretching in welcomed gratification. Both of you emit soft grunts of pleasure as Arthur's chest vibrates under your fidgety hands. You try to keep your eyes on each other as they flutter from the delightful feeling of carnal intimacy.

Your buttocks finally rest against his thighs when he finally fills you to the hilt. "Oh, fuck, missy." He grabs your ass greedily, as if to reward you for sheathing him inside you, his eyes darting to where your bodies meet. You peer down as you see your soft curls now tangled conspicuously with his. "Don't think I'll ever get used to you taking me like this."

You try to adjust to his large size as you coat him with the wetness he pried from you while fingering you earlier. You mirror his cheeky but sweet smile. "Maybe we just gotta practice a little more."

He chuckles as your hands move aimlessly all over his chest, warming him up before you move. His fingers lightly squeeze your behind to do the same. "I reckon we should. I doubt I'll ever get used to it though."

"Won't hurt to try." Your fingertips brush the area of his nipples. "I'm willing if you are."

"Yeah?" He raises a hand to your face to caress the side of your cheek with his thumb, biting down on his own lip. "Wanna show me how willing you are?"

He's ready to start when you are.

You rush your hands to the sides of his navel, moving your thumbs to pet the area below, twirling some of the black hairs you saw before. The teasing is enough to make the member inside you move and suddenly all you want to do is to countermove. "Seems I'm not the only one willing, am I?"

The first roll of your hips is barely visible but both of you feel it as his cock shifts gently against your walls, a satisfying taste of what's to come. He gets hungry for more as he lowers his hand to join the other, now blending his fingers with the curve of your hips. You take the chance to move them again, this time more noticeably as your folds almost touch the knuckles of your fingers, still skimming the sensitive skin of his groin.

It's the loud exhale he gives you that makes you start to lose your shyness, wanting to hear the sweet noises he makes for you over and over again, even if it's at the expense of your poise. You move your waist more forcefully, nudging yourself closer to his stomach, making you both puff out in delight. Each drag of your hips comes slow and gentle, but you can feel the gradual build of the fire in your core as you try to resist the urge to go too fast too soon.

"That's it, missy. You got it." His fingers press against your soft flesh as he assists your back-and-forth movements, the lechery of his eyes intensifying. "Keep going like that for me, angel."

His encouraging words only enflame your state of yearning, so you pick up the pace a little, moving your hands up to flatten them on his chest. As you move to the new angle, you fortuitously brush your clit against his pubic bone, the feeling so sublime you let out a whine of surprise and elation. You have no choice but to repeat it again, the result only more divine as you let your mouth hang.

"You like that, huh?" He grabs you more vigorously as you start to grind him wantonly.

You look into his eyes again, unsure if this is what he had planned when he asked you to be on top, wondering if he's enjoying it. "This alright?"

"Oh, it's perfect, missy." He lifts himself up to plant an affectionate kiss on your lips, his gaze even darker now. "Take what you need, darling."

His approval is all you require to move your hands even higher, clutching hungrily at his shoulders as your sensitive nub lies even flatter against his skin, the rubbing now so intense it keeps you from staying silent and cogent. You revel in your all-encompassing passion as you feel your walls fluttering against his own responsive arousal, filling you with the overwhelming sense that you are getting closer to the brink of endless wonder.

"Keep going, sweetheart. Almost there."

Arthur's sweet encouragement brings you back to a surprising state of awareness. You've only been intimate a few times, but they seem to have been enough for Arthur to learn when you're reaching your edge, aware of the effect his coaxing words have on you, prying a release from you every single time. Even when it's his choice of position, he still helps you rut yourself over him, making sure you chase your pleasure to completion first.

You must have slowed down your movements as he's compelled to spur you on. "Don't stop, missy. Not now. Keep going." His hands shove your weight forward to pick up the pace again. "Be my good girl and come around me." His wish is your command as you start to move unrestrained against him, your eyes closing shut as delectation devours you. "Come on. Need you to do this. Need to feel you, angel." His fingers bury themselves on your hips as he pushes you over the brink of deliverance. "Let me feel you feel good."

Your climax is heaven on earth as you arch back into the air, your head tilting back in victorious ecstasy as it hangs dreamily on cloud nine. In a thrilling change of pace, you soar up rather than sink your pleasure into the constriction of a worn-out mattress or the bumpy surface of a bale of hay. The only thing anchoring you is the firm build of Arthur between your thighs.

Your hands leave Arthur's shoulders to an aimless destination as you feel his own reach for your back, helping you ride your wave of pleasure, placing soft conciliatory kisses around your chest. Low soft grunts still leave your slack mouth when you slowly open your eyes, feeling your chest puff against an obstruction. When you look down, you see Arthur's face buried between your breasts, sucking gently at your damp skin. You take the opportunity to rest your head against his, feeling him hum with appreciation as he wraps you tightly in his arms.

It's a while before he comes up for air and even then he chooses to kiss your lips instead, his tongue still wet from nuzzling your bosom, hurried inside without ceremony. Rather than letting you come down from your high, it sustains itself with the extension of his enveloping kiss, making you tangle yourself against him in pure bliss.

"That was great, missy." His face slants to look up at yours as elated as you are, drunk on your own rapture as if it were his.

You take the chance to move slightly as you resettle on his lap, your core still sensitive as you brush against him. His member still pulses inside you and you're reminded of the pleasure you still have to bestow him. "It ain't over yet, cowboy." You push his shoulders to make him lean back against the bed, feeling very little resistance as he realizes it's his turn now, giving him a peck on his lips when he settles. "Show me what you had in mind."

His face turns somber, his eyes grow darker and his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows your words, preparing to quell the overbearing lust running through his veins. His hands move to their previous place on your hips before you cover them with your own, encouraging him to move you however he desires. You feel the ridge of his knuckles shift as his fingers begin to knead your bruising flesh, his grip tightening as he finally starts to roll you against him. It's not long before your speed hastens and your pulse quickens again, needing to brace yourself on his shoulders, allowing close contact between your loose lips.

"Christ, missy. You're so good to me. You know that?" The meshing of your hips turns noisier by the second as they begin to slam into each other, his hands now directing you in up-and-down thrusts. "I oughta keep ya all to myself."

His member slides easily in and out of you with the blend of your fluids, his release approaching as he repeatedly hits your magical spot, both of you panting from renewed exhilaration.

Arthur keeps his eyes on you as if he's realizing something, you practically see a question form with the furrow of his brow. Suddenly he slows you down, limiting your thrusts without stopping them entirely. You know he's about to ask you something important if he's delaying his own release for it.

"You sleeping with anyone else?"

The question catches you by surprise, but you're quick to reply. "No."

It's the truth. You haven't slept with your husband in months and, when you did, there was nothing about it that was enjoyable or sensual. The last time was a brief tussle to get him off before he left for Annesburg, one where you didn't even pant and he didn't care if you did. You remember vividly feeling empty as he filled you up, the cracks on the ceiling as exciting as his thrusts. Just another passionless night with another heartless man in a list of too many few.

Now that you think about it, nothing can compare to what has happened between you and Arthur in the past few days. Not even close.

Your negative answer earns a purr of satisfaction from him, reaching for your chin with his fingers to pull you in. "Good. Keep it that way, yeah?"

You nod in agreement as you lean into his mouth, his tongue prodding yours to seal your vow of exclusivity as you surrender to the man who wants you all to himself, burying himself deeper within you.

His hands go back to your hips before they settle on your rear, grabbing hungrily as you both resume your lascivious pounding, the feeling intensified by the unceremonious binding of your union. Your breasts bounce wildly in front of him, earning his undisputed attention as he tries to land his lips on them. He stops when he begins to grunt disorderly, leaning his head against the headboard as he prepares to finish.

"Need you to rise, missy. I'm gonna--" He bites down on his lip, his teeth sinking hard as his hands promptly clasp your hips with all the will still left in him, with enough force to remove you from his cock, sitting you on top of his clenching thighs. He manages to stroke himself a few times before the white ropes erupt as he directs them to his stomach, his whole body trembling beneath yours. An earthquake of a deeply satisfied man.

He pants as he opens his eyes, his hands caressing your shoulders as he propels you forward to his kiss.

"So good to me.”

Your breasts dance against the sinful cadence of his heaving chest, his words reverberating close to your beating heart.

“And only me."

Your first ride on top is one to remember.

----

The weeks never passed so quickly before Arthur, much less this blissfully. You keep track of the days since you met for the first two or three weeks. But then the count becomes hazy, blurred by the consuming nature of your passion, the devouring nestling of your thighs, the countless collisions of your lips.

He visits you when he can escape from his other life, twice a week most times, three times if you're both lucky. He usually arrives with the sunset, his shirt still soaked from a hard day's work, his neck dusty from the ride over. You quench his thirst right away, first with your lips and then with a glass of water, watching as he heads to your bedroom to wash away his impurity in your vanity. Just like on the day when you first met.

You usually have dinner ready, repeating dishes he has previously enjoyed, always making sure you have extra potatoes. You try to have a cooled pie waiting for him, one he'll gobble up even after a big meal, regardless of its flavor. But apple remains his favorite, you can tell. He brings sacks full of groceries, bottles full of whiskey, and handfuls of game meat, enough food to feed the both of you and have leftovers. He stuffs himself until he can't take anymore, satisfying a bottomless hunger that only your cooking seems to appease. Just like on the day when you first met.

He makes sure to tap his belly when he finishes, the fabric of his shirt stretching as it swells. "I'm gaining weight from your fine cooking, missy."

"Well, maybe you shouldn't eat so much, Mr. Morgan."

"Can't help it when you cook so well."

"I know a way to burn it off." You know he loves your sly remarks as much as your cooking.

Once his tastebuds are satisfied, he usually grabs your arms, pulling you into his hot embrace or his fidgety lap, tugging from you fervent kisses to try to indulge his remaining need. Sometimes you're able to escape to finish the dishes, most times you aren't, his stomach not the only part of him that stretches after dark.

You always end the night holed up in your bedroom, the many phases of the moon depicted in your window as they change, your lustful connection never once waning. He stretches you out on the mattress, working you with his tongue or his hands, prying you open to receive him. He buries himself in your tightness, sometimes letting you stroke him beforehand, his size always a scintillating marvel when pressed against your fingers or your walls. He envelops you with his whole body or lets you straddle him with your thighs, hungry to feel your release, getting off on your seismic pleasure every time. He's careful to finish out of you, tainting both of your flesh with the white stains of a sinful tryst. You always end up in the iron grip of his loving arms, soothing each other before sleep tames you. Just like on the night when you first met.

He wakes up in the morning next to you, sometimes energetic enough to go again, sometimes satisfied enough not to attempt it, lavishing you with sweet tender kisses instead. He drinks your bitter coffee and eats your runny eggs, his gaze twinkling with the soft light of the morning sun. You brush his hair with your fingers before he covers it with his hat, the hanging ropes on the brim swaying as he kisses you goodbye, the sound of his parting boots heavy in your yard and in your chest. Behind he leaves his vow to come back. Just like on the day after you first met.

And just like a few days after you met, he comes back to keep his word, bringing with him the exciting promise of the sunset and the sensual touch of the night.

----

It is a particularly hot afternoon when Arthur arrives with his shirt covered in blood, the stench nauseating as the sun intensifies, the sight heart-wrenching as you think it's his own spill.

He can tell from your face you’re riddled with anguish. "I'm fine, darling, was out hunting is all." He unloads from his horse the deer he caught, already skinned and prepped for a fresh meal. "You in the mood for some stew?"

He places the carcass on your kitchen counter, chopping it up into sizable chunks as you prepare to salt most of it, leaving a few pieces to cook for dinner. He's thoughtful enough to remove his shirt right away and you draw him a bath to wash away the viscous blood still on his chest and shoulders.

When he's inside the tub, he's insistent that you scrub him. "I can't reach my back, missy. Think you can help me?" You try to hasten the washing as you still have to prepare dinner and wash his clothes, earning a reprimand from him. "Go easy on me, darling. I don't like it so rough."

You soften the swabs of your sponge, enough to hear him relax with deep breaths, his back sinking against the edge of the tub. "That feels real good, missy." You have no choice but to scrub his chest, which turns into a very bad idea once he starts pecking your lips, interrupting your movements as he gets bolder by the kiss. "God, I missed you, sweetheart." It’s been three days since you last saw each other. Your mouths entangle as you feel his wet hands dampen your back. "I miss these lips every single day. You know that?"

When he gets tired of you skidding away from him, ignoring his kisses so you can continue to wash him, you suddenly feel his hands reach the side of your hips, picking you up from the ground to land you with a wet crash on his lap, your skirt heavy with the weight of the water as you soak in his embrace. You try to contain your amusement as he attempts to kiss you, soon edging his tongue into the middle of your lips, satisfied only when you hum in unexpected pleasure.

He stares at you for a few seconds, tracing the shape of your mouth as if he's never seen it before, stretching your lips with a few soft rubs of his inquisitive thumb as if to test their malleability. "Prettiest lips I've ever seen."

"Well, they're all yours, partner." You think your remark is a rather lame flirtation but it turns into much more as his eyes suddenly darken and he inhales deeply before giving you the most selfish kiss, taking your words to heart as he takes what's rightfully his.

"Too pretty for an ugly old fool like me." You splash him with water to reprimand his off-putting self-deprecation, making him grab your hands so you can stay still to continue to ravage your defiant lips.

Somehow you convince him to let you go, promising a belated recompense if he lets you finish your chores. You try to leave the slippery tub with some difficulty, chuckling at his childish pettiness when he refuses to help you up. Eventually you manage to get on your feet, shedding your clothes before going to get some dry ones.

He’s sore enough to complain as you leave the room. “Wish you could leave your lips as easily as you leave me.”

Despite the temptation of returning to his arms, you try to get a move on with dinner, the pot by the fire soon filled with softening venison and herbs. You scrub his bloodied shirt against the washboard in your yard, your hands turning frightfully red in the attempt. It’s pristine blue when you finally hang it on the clothesline.

You turn around to head back inside when you see Arthur standing on the porch, only a loose small towel hanging from his waist.

“Dinner ready yet?”

“Hold your horses, would you? I’m adding the potatoes now.”

“Well, if I can’t have your lips then at least put some food in my mouth, woman!”

You give him a defying look as you pass him on the way in, trying to ignore his clinging. “Running your mouth not enough for you?”

He’s quick to grab you tightly from behind, his breath hot as it blows in your ear. “Not even close, missy.”

You try to break from his embrace unsuccessfully. “Why don’t you put on some clothes and then we can eat?”

“You better eat quick then, 'cause I ain’t waiting long.”

His impatience seems to ease when he finally starts to eat the stew, sitting in his chair with a new set of clothes, still dented from the shape of his saddle. Despite his threat, dinner is not rushed and you actually enjoy it, soothed by the comfort of the food and the pleasure of your company. He even lets you do the dishes first, all while you enjoy some of his unbelievable tales of his time out West.

When you go to get the glasses from the table, he stops you in your attempt and you know you've gone far enough. His grip is strong on your forearms but he verbalizes his wish rather than pull you down. "Sit."

His lap is inviting, spread enough to cushion the width of your rear as you climb on top of him face to face, the feeling familiar once his kisses start pouring, your hands grabbing his neck as you always do. What you don't know is this time won't be like any other.

It's when he pauses the work of his tongue that you know something is off, his eyes staring as he gains the courage to ask you an intimate request. "I want to feel your mouth on me, missy." His thumb returns to the place it was brushing in the tub. "Take me with those pretty lips of yours."

Your face burns hot as you hear him, first from the lewd nature of his wish, second from the realization that you've never done it before. The eagerness in his eyes is ignited and you feel a tingling at the prospect of pleasing him as he desires.

An act so debauched it seems akin to blasphemy. Then again, you've gone this far in your adultery, why not please your lover as he desires.

“Think you can do it? Hm?”

You nod in agreement, ready to cross the threshold of the gates of hell.

"Good. Get on your knees for me, would ya?"

Arthur helps you off his lap, his hands clasping your hips until you're standing, then reaching to undo his pants. You lower your knees to the ground, supporting your hands on his thighs to ease the landing. His cock is in his hand by the time you're down, stroking to grow his size.

His free hand reaches the side of your head, petting you lovingly as he prepares. "You comfortable?"

You suddenly worry that your lack of experience will be too telling, unsure how to bring him to completion this way. You decide that perhaps it's best to be honest, giving him the chance to teach you how. "Arthur." Your hands caress the hard bone on his knees as he looks at you with interest. "I've never-" Your tongue is suddenly sticky with fluster. "I've never done it before."

His face turns somber as his hands suddenly rush to your upper arms, tightly grabbing them to pull you up. “Jesus, darling. Should’ve told me.” His grip is strong but not enough to move you. “Get up, sweetheart. We’ll do something else.”

You rise from your knees to sit on his lap while you protest his decision. “No, I want to, Arthur. Really.” His hands pull you closer to his chest as you sit on him sideways. “You just have to tell me how.”

He looks into your eyes to see if there’s truth in your words, his brow knitting in concern. “You sure? I don’t want you to do something you don’t want.”

“Yeah, I want to.” You kiss him on the lips to sweeten the deal. “Teach me how to make you feel good.”

The tip of his thumb returns to your mouth, swiping it lazily as he ponders how to proceed, making sure you don’t regret your words. His hardness is now resting on your leg, which makes you even more eager to go through with it, kissing him again to see if he makes up his kind. "Tell me how you like it."

“Christ, missy.” He gives you one last peck before he squeezes the softness of your thigh in encouragement. “Let me get up, would you?”

You’re a little confused as to why he’s getting up, but you rise anyway, sitting back on his chair as he directs you down with his hands on your shoulders. He pets the side of you arms and face before he inches backward, soon shedding his clothes unceremoniously, his member stiff as it protrudes from his nakedness. You watch as he clears the table in front of you, piling the remaining tableware on the other side of it, leaving his glass of whiskey behind. He’s so tall he easily sits on the table without barely the lift of his heels, his feet then coming to rest on the side of the chair by your thighs, his erection on the table right in front of you.

His lips glisten with the remaining shot of whiskey he takes, placing the empty glass next to his leg. “If anything don’t feel right you tell me, yeah?” His hand caresses your jaw as he assesses your psyche. You feel yourself getting wetter in anticipation, your heart beating a little faster and your palms getting a little sweaty. You hope to serve him well. “I don’t want you swallowing, ok? Just spit on this here glass. I’ll tell you when it’s time.”

His free hand encircles around his member, pumping lazily to get him ready for you. You take the chance to spread your hands on his thighs, gently caressing him to help him relax, hopefully convince him you’re calm yourself, willing to carry on with his lesson.

“Just do what feels good, missy.” The grip on your jaw tightens as he slightly pushes you forward to him. “Nice and slow, darling. It ain’t a race.” You nod in understanding, his eyes blown with wanting as his thumb brushes your lips for the last time. “I'll let you know what to do. You ready?”

Your yes is enthusiastic and clear, your lips moving against his finger before he drops his hand, pulling himself closer to the edge of the table so you can access him more comfortably. His grip returns to the side of your head to lightly brush your cheek as the other hand guides one of your own to his shaft.

Your palm feels hot and damp at the same time with his slick slathered around the stiffness of his flesh, the one you’ve touched so many times in your erotic nights. His fingers instruct you to resume his ministrations as you feel the ridge of his veins between your heedful fingers, stroking so you get used to feeling him, preparing to take him with your mouth.

His hand guides your head upwards so your lips can meet, savoring you with his full intent, wetting your mouth with the drip of his tongue. When he eases his grip on you, you take the chance to dampen his chin and his jaw, soon reaching for his neck as you lean into the roughness of his beard, settling on the softness of his collarbone. You continue your passage downwards as he continues to brush your hair, his other hand now petting your sinking shoulder, leaving your hand free to fondle his cock in slow but pleasing strokes.

The kisses you leave on his chest are plentiful and dragged until you reach the hollow of his navel when you suddenly feel him grab your hair as his tip brushes against the skin of your throat, a hitched breath leaving his own. You push his member lower so you can begin to kiss the area of his groin, your hand stopping its movements when your chin gets in the way, continuing his pleasure by circling your thumb around his tip. The combination of movements is welcomed as he begins to breathe deeper, both of you quivering with anticipation as you begin to breach the gap between his cock and your mouth, pecking the skin around the base as you wait for instructions.

His thumb caresses your ear in tenderness as he finally speaks. "Use your lips first, darling."

It seems natural to continue to kiss him, your lips landing unhurriedly on his base, his warmth as delightful as the other parts of his skin. But it feels different for him as he takes a deep breath, his fingers curling close to your scalp, urging for more of your touch. You're quick to continue to peck him, leaving a trail of soft kisses along the top of his eager member, stopping before you reach his tantalizing crown.

Unsure how to proceed, you look up at him. You've never seen his eyes so dark, blown with need. The hand on your hair moves, his thumb brushing your lips as he parts them, reaching the inside of your cheek before he swipes the ridge of your salivated tongue, driving it out of your mouth.

"Use your tongue now, missy."

His wet thumb drags against your hair as his hand returns to the back of your head as you move down, both of you anxious to feel the brush of your tongue against his stiffness.

There's nothing gracious when you finally make contact, your taste buds coming alive with the bitterness of his flesh, the hot feeling against your tongue much like the one you felt on your fingers before, the sensation both familiar and new at the same time. You feel resistance against his hardness as you begin to move your tongue in unthoughtful movements, suddenly hungry to stretch it fully to slather as much of him as possible. It must be pleasurable enough for him as it earns his audible approval, his cock twitching underneath the roughness of your tongue, his hand moving with your head as you swirl aimlessly over the length of his shaft.

Your back and forth movements are amateurish, sloppy, crass even, but you hurry them along as you feel his breath hitch, a burning desire building in your own core, holding the base of his cock to hold it closer to your mouth, your other hand squeezing his thigh. You continue to lick him until you finally feel his fingers clasp your shoulder. "Slow down, darling. Easy."

You reduce your tonguing, aiming for a relaxed rhythm that's more attuned to his liking as you hear him grunt deeper and more frequently as his arousal builds. You notice he is particularly sensitive at his tip, his breath hitching further as you lick its underside repeatedly. Before you realize it, the circle of your lips begins to surround his tip as your tongue slides forward, soon taking him deeper into the tightness of your mouth, dragging his flesh along the hunger of your buds.

When a few inches of him are inside you, you feel his hand curl in your hair. "Take it out now, missy." It's the high-pitched breath he gives you when you retract that indicates what he likes, so when his tip touches yours again, you immediately set out to sink him inside you once more until you repeat the motion again.

His hands tighten around your skin and he huffs deeper as you suck around him, your head bobbing to bring him in and out of you, getting him closer and closer to a state of uncontrolled bliss. Somehow, he still has the presence of mind to grab your immobile hand around his base, urging you to pump him as you still work your mouth around him. "That's it, sweetheart." His words are muffled by the prelude of his peak. "Fuck. Don't stop."

As your mouth adapts to the feeling, you begin to ease into your movements, taking him deeper as your mouth waters, your chin soon dripping with excess. As your hand continues its work, you feel your own core swell, needing to slightly graze the seat beneath you to seek some comfort. When you feel none, you begin to rock in the chair, removing your hand from his thigh to your own as you begin to circle your bud. You are so aroused by Arthur's own thrill you're quick to pant yourself, your own moans now engulfing him too as they land on his hot flesh. But they're no match to his, your own pleasure so enticing to him he suddenly gets louder, beginning his ascent into uncontrollable madness.

"It's time."

His words are barely perceptible between his grunts, his muscles flexing and his hands now grabbing you, almost edging on pain as you steady yourself back on the might of his thigh. His release comes quick after that, his member twitching against your cheeks as you finally feel hot fluid reach your tongue, soon flooding the rest of your mouth in depraved novelty, tasting the curious elation of your gratified lover. His spill is bountiful and you're soon fighting back the urge to swallow it, remembering his wish that you spit it out instead.

Once he stops his effusion, it takes him a while to gather composure, his tip still inside you as his grunts overflow, growing quiet with each breath. His hands push you back until you reach the back of the chair, his cock leaving your mouth with a wet noise, dripping with his white release, a few drops landing heated on your thigh. Still overwhelmed with ecstasy, he reaches for the glass by his side before his thumb returns to your lips, either to wipe his seed off of them or to rub it on them more evenly. He then brings the glass right to them.

"Spit, darling."

You gather most of the slick around your mouth before you spit, his remnants still coating much of your insides as it mixes with your saliva. The milky fluid drips into his glass like molasses and he puts it away once he's satisfied with the outcome. His hand returns to your jaw, giving you a few pats before he unexpectedly leans in, taking your wet lips into his as he begins to taste himself on you.

"You did so well, missy." His eyes lock into yours, your hands clutching his hips as you hear his praise. "Such a good girl for me." Your lips smack with the sound of wetness. "Let me take care of you now."

You regret when he leaves your lips, moving backward as he reaches for your hands, removing them from him before his feet hit the ground. He stands as he looks down at you, giving you an extra peck before he places his hands at your waist, pressing your legs to wrap them around his torso, lifting you up without delay. He places you down on the side of the table where he sat, the wood still warm from his own thighs, his hands then moving under your skirt, pulling your bloomers all the way down.

"Take the rest off, darling. I wanna see you."

You're quickly naked for him, your bare bottom close to the edge of the table as he begins to dowse you with wet kisses, from your lips to your breasts to your navel, his movements hurried as you already groan from built-up arousal. When he returns to take one of your nipples into his mouth, you suddenly whine with vexation. "Arthur, please!"

He looks worriedly at you as you lead one of his hands to your core, showing him how wet you are for him, closing your legs around his hand when he begins to rub your clit. "It's ok, sweetheart. I got you."

Arthur gets on his knees in a swift determined motion, his hands stretching your legs open so he can place his head between them. He wraps his arms around your thighs, inching you closer to the edge of the table so he can have full entry to your needy core.

You’re already a slobbering mess when his tongue begins to lavish between your swollen lips, tightly bracing your thighs to hold you steady. You let out deep repressed grunts, your back falling restless against the table as he begins to suck you mercilessly, returning the favor of devouring your flesh, prying delectable pleasure from you. Eating you as famished as he ate his dinner right on the same side of the table.

You’re a sight to see if anyone were to walk into your yard. With the windows open, curtains swaying with the night breeze, the lamps illuminating the sinful romp unfolding inside. You’re splayed on the table, breast bouncing with each panted scream you let out, hands clutched around his hair, thighs and back undulating around him. His face is covered in your cunt, his arms flexed to hold you, his knees rocking against the floor where he kneels. The most sinful act unfolding at the place where you're supposed to say grace, not receive it.

The work of his tongue is overwhelming as you quickly reach the point of no return, further intensified when he teases a finger at your entrance. When it's finally curled inside, you begin to lose control, your unrestrained cries only stifled by the walls, your eyes closing shut in blinding gratification. Your hands leave his hair, flailing around to find some solace, finding none. Instead, you knock down Arthur's glass, his release spilling on the floor below as the crystal breaks. Soon after that, you break too.

Your climax is as ruthless as your journey there, prolonged by his unrelenting need to keep you writhing under his tongue, feeling your whole body quake for him. Your mutual moans of gratification coalesce into a salacious tune that is only broken when you beg for mercy. "Arthur!"

He looks straight into your eyes before he removes himself from between your legs, raising from his position to move to your side, leaning down to kiss you softly, caressing your arms as he attempts to bring you down from your delirium.

It takes a while for you to still, your legs still trembling as they arch on the table, your core still exposed to the breeze coming in, the coarse wood suddenly a nuisance against your bare skin. Arthur somehow manages to read your mind, sitting back on his chair before he pulls you down onto his lap again, resting your spent head on one of his shoulders, soothing your sweaty back as your breaths even again. You stay like that for a while and, when you move, you feel your skin sticky against his, like you're not meant to be pulled apart.

"I think we need another bath." You croon against his ear before you dare to press your lips against his beard.

"Mhm, I guess so." His fingers attempt to comb your damp hair. "You gonna leave those pretty lips of yours with me this time?"

It takes all your strength to pull your head back to see his glowing eyes again, his question still adrift in them. "Maybe I'll leave all of me instead. How about that?"

"Oh? You will?" His kiss tells you what you want to hear, his tongue soon prodding yours as he breathes you in. He breaks when he is satisfied, bringing his thumb once more to the cushion of your bottom lip. "Gonna have to clean the mess I made in you then. Leave you as pretty as I found you."

You nod, your smile widening as you remember the taste of him. But something behind him catches your eye as you look over his shoulder, seeing a wet splatter across your dining room floor. "You're gonna have to clean my floor too, mister."

It's the way he laughs, his joy reverberating on your chest, his hands moving gently along your curves, his hips jiggling you with contentment, his lips stretching into an undisturbed smile, his eyes looking into yours with fearless passion. It's the way he asked if you could please him as he wanted, the way he gave you the same thing in return. It's the way he holds you close after making you feel so euphoric. It's the way he makes you realize you're deeply in love.

----

It was too good to be true. The boundless joy Arthur's given you was bound to break, sooner or later. You'd just hoped it'd be later.

Fetching mail at the Valentine station was always dreadful, your heart always heavy as you climbed the wooden stairs, as you stared at the mustache of the station attendant, waiting for your loathed turn. You'd ache at the sight of another letter from your miserable husband, promising his eventual return, notifying you of a new deposit, defacing written words of inexistent love.

But this time the letter is different, not the usual sandy stationary he uses. Instead, it's a pristine white envelope and the handwritten address tells you immediately who it's from. Your Aunt Caroline always had the prettiest penmanship.

Your feet lead you unconsciously to the nearest bench, sitting down just as you pry open the envelope, smiling as you see your aunt's good wishes. I hope this letter finds you in unbridled joy, my dear. It really does.

Her pleasantries are plentiful as she details her new life in Saint Denis and how much it has aided your uncle's health, who seems much improved with the change of scenery. The heat was bothersome at first but now it seems to suit them quite well. Their social calendar has kept them busy as they have adapted to the city's high society, their connections growing with their substantial wealth. They seem to only want for one thing: the treasured company of their favorite and only niece.

She formally asks you to go visit them in Saint Denis, knowing well that your husband remains in Annesburg while you continue your simple solitary life in New Hanover. The invitation is endearing and for a moment you relish the idea of visiting your beloved aunt and uncle, the people who raised you after your parents passed. Spending a few weeks with them should be invigorating as they spoil you with their genuine affection, even if they might insist on parading you around in uncomfortable dresses at pretentious dinner parties and soirées. After months of solitude, it might be bearable, enjoyable even.

But then you remember Arthur. You suddenly feel the ghost of his hands on your hips, his lips on your neck, his thighs on your own, his breath hot on your ear as he tells you how much he wants you. The thrilling memories of the past few months come flooding in and suddenly your heart breaks at the thought of leaving him, the only lover who's ever treated you right. It'd be foolish to do him wrong.

But then you read more of the letter and your heart breaks even more.

I have written to your dear husband Stanley regarding your visit to Saint Denis. He has informed me that he would like to come see you once you are settled with us, requesting new correspondence once you have arrived. He will make his traveling arrangements then.

The trip is suddenly surrounded with gloom at the mention of seeing your husband, his presence the last thing you need back in your life. Your knee begins to shake involuntarily, the heel clicking and echoing around the unusually quiet train station. The notion of leaving Arthur to return to that scoundrel is revolting, like running from a safe haven to go chase unruly tornados.

But then you read your aunt's following paragraph and you realize you have no other choice.

I really do hope you get to join us here for a time. If not for my sake, at least for your uncle, who seems to yearn to hold his little girl in his arms again. He speaks so fondly of you every day. I'd be jealous if I didn't regard you with the same consideration. Perhaps you'd like to oblige the wishes of a sentimental old couple while you still can. I've never known you to be unkind. You were always the light in your woeful lives. I hope you get to be it once more.

And in that moment you realize your love for them is much bigger than your resentment for your husband. Or your passion for Arthur.

I look forward to seeing your sweet smile again, the one you happily got from your sweet mother. Wishing you were here already, Your Aunt Caroline

You take a deep breath as a sound grabs your attention. It's a little boy sitting down on the bench in front of you, his mother urging him to behave as they wait for the next train. Her caring hand is on his shoulder, petting him lovingly as he calms down, his feet hovering impatiently above the floor. He must be the age you were when your aunt and uncle went to pick you up and took you from the only life you knew, petting you lovingly on the shoulder too.

You rise from your seat, your mind made up as you walk to the station attendant so you can send a letter to begin preparing for your journey to Saint Denis.

You just hope Arthur Morgan forgives you.

----

It's a hot afternoon when you return home, your mare Amber back in the shade of your stable, your skirt brown on the brim from the Valentine mud as you tread up the stairs onto your porch. You're wondering how you might survive the Saint Denis heat when you see a bouquet of fresh flowers resting on your windowsill, begging to be primed on your prettiest vase. There is a note stuck on the closed door, a ripped page from a journal.

Sorry I missed you. A. M.

It saddens you to see Arthur was here and you weren't, unable to receive his eager kisses and his gentle embrace as you tell him how much you like the flowers. Your heart aches knowing that you may not have many chances to do it again.

Upon much reflection, your decision still seems sound as you think of the joy you'll give your uncle as he gets to hug you again, letting you win at cards when he thinks you can't tell. Your aunt will welcome you with her kind and trustful face as she begins her attempts to get you to eat as much as she can, her cakes as soft as the pillows where you'll sleep. It'll be heaven to be with them again.

But you can't shake Arthur from your mind. To pause your love affair seems crass, both to him and to you, especially now that you know each other so well. You can't even bear to think of ending it all together, a thought so cruel it robs most of your night's sleep. When you somehow sleep a wink, you wake up exhausted, dreading the moment you have to tell Arthur the news of you leaving him. Either for now or for good.

It's not surprising he comes to you in the afternoon, barely a day after he missed you, desperate to see you again. He doesn't bring you anything, just the sweet return of his arms and the hunger of his lips, his presence so comforting it makes you swoon with elation. Somehow your doubts dissolve when you feel him breathing you in.

His longing for you is clear as he leaves his saddle quicker than usual, kissing you hurriedly, not even bothering to lead his horse Titus to the stable, hitching him to your porch instead. When he returns to kiss you again, you see why. His pants are tented much more than usual for this time of day.

When your hips meet, his eagerness brushes directly on your waist but he has the need to tell you himself. "Sweetheart, really need you right now."

You toy with the seam of his pants, threatening to unbutton him right then and there. "Missed me, did you?"

"You know I did." He reaches for your hand, urging you to lower it, soon palming his growing arousal over the fabric of his jeans. He kisses you sloppily, shameless lust running through his veins. "Need you now, missy." His breath hitches as your fingers work your magic. "Needed you yesterday too. I can't wait any longer, sweetheart."

You suddenly stop your teasing, placing your hands on his shoulders so you can whisper close in his ear. "Inside."

You watch his confused expression for a moment before you grab him by the hand, walking him up the porch as you lead him inside to the living room, quickly beginning to undress as you sit on your davenport, your boots off as you throw them across the floor. You've never seen Arthur undress this fast, his cock is in his hand as you still work the buttons on your blouse, stroking himself as he watches you toss the remaining clothes.

His breath is already heavy when he settles on the davenport next to you, guiding you onto his lap before he kisses you deeply, once, twice, thrice. His hands run over your body to warm you up, tantalizing your skin with the sweet touch of passion before his fingers focus on your nipples, riling you up for what's to come. He then speeds up his usual slow approach as he begins to circle your clit, his member anxious as it falls on your thigh and you begin to stroke it.

Arthur begins to moan with built-up arousal and you see him getting more impatient by the minute, clutching one of your hips to try to contain himself, hoping he lasts long enough to sink inside you. One of his fingers enters you, trying to open you up for him so you can quench his intolerable ache. Two fingers are inside you when he finally admits defeat. "Missy, I- I need to-"

"Get inside me, Arthur."

He lets out a grunt before you feel his hands at your waist, clasping you tightly before he picks you up with all of his brute force, laying you down on the sofa underneath him, spreading your legs apart so he can place himself in the middle. His breath is loud and frantic as he brings a hand to his beading member, brushing it up and down your slit until he finally gives in and enters you, quicker than either of you had hoped, the feeling strained until you adjust to him, moaning into the thick air around you as he begins to move inside you.

His hands grab your thighs forcefully as he begins to slam himself against you, chasing a high that intensifies with each thrust. Even as he fills you to the hilt, he craves more, trying to deepen himself within you until he disappears completely. Unsatisfied, he places the back of your knees on his shoulders, bending you to his will as your thighs press against his chest, your knees on his shoulders, his face lowered against yours as he finally gets you in the angle he was craving.

Folded underneath his greed, succumbed to his complete will and desire, you feel every muscle in your body come alive with passion, blinding pleasure devouring your every sense in the most salacious position he's had you yet. Face to face in reciprocal vigorous lust, it's not long until both of you are consumed by ravenous sensations of ecstasy and release, unsure of how long you stare into each other's eyes before you both still in satisfaction, both breathing frantically as he rests his foreheads against yours. It takes a few moments before either of you ease on the tight grip you have on each other's flesh, your fingers only easing when your lips wrap in delightful gratitude.

When the time comes for unfurling yourselves, your knees crack from the stretch, your muscles aching with the strain of your stance. Arthur helps you onto his lap as he sits, rubbing pleasingly as he sees you struggle to extend your legs. After a few minutes, you're well enough to head inside to your vanity and begin to wash yourself, his seed sticky as it cools on your stomach. When you finish, you realize you still have to tell him you're leaving, a derangement after the proximity you just shared.

Your skin is still damp when you return to the living room in your nakedness, leaning against the wall as you watch Arthur collect his clothes from the floor, then sitting down once his pants are buttoned, all the while staring back at you.

"Seems I can't enough of you, can't I?" His forehead is still aglow with sweat, his locks darker from the exertion, contentment painting his face as he smiles. But your stomach turns violently.

Your face must show your worry as he suddenly frowns. "What's wrong?"

"We need to talk."

He instinctively holds out his hand for you to take, directing you to join him as he motions you to sit by his side.

And then you tell him.

----

Two weeks are all you have left until your trip to Saint Denis. The letter you get from your aunt a few days later confirms that a hired carriage will take you to the city a week from Friday, your departure from Valentine scheduled early in the morning so you may travel in the comfort and security of the daylight, the trip already paid by your eager aunt and uncle. You are to make use of the remaining time to put your affairs in order. But only one in particular matters.

Arthur took the news of your trip better than you expected. At least initially. He understood your need to take the trip from the moment you told him, encouraging you to do what is necessary to be a good niece. But you could see he was pained when you told him you weren't sure how long you'd be gone, that the trip might take you away from him for several weeks, months even. He looked at you with his disappointed opulent eyes, swallowing hard at the notion of losing you, even if temporarily. Yet his words were nothing if not supportive and unfazed, the hands on your hips claiming you could go.

But it is the way he lingers behind every day until your trip that tells you just how much he's dreading to see you leave. The first few days he leaves for his work in the morning, coming back at night to spend the evening with you. But the closer to the day, the more he delays his departure and hurries his arrival. One day he doesn't even leave at all, staying with you until the time comes to escort you to Valentine.

His presence is more than welcomed as your efforts to close down your small property pile on. He helps you take your chickens to a friendly farmer up north, then boarding up the coop so no wild animals nest there. He mends part of the fence that surrounds your homestead, ensuring it's tall enough so no one can break in while you're gone. He fixes the bent hinges on your front door, so it may close safely and hold until you return to open it. He helps you eat most of the perishable food you still have and helps you sell the rest of it so it doesn't spoil. He offers to help you pack, but he mostly just sits on the bed as he watches you pack your clothes, his sight watching your every move and every fold.

He mostly keeps his hands busy with work until he gets to put them on you, holding you so close to him you think you'll bruise and your aunt's maids will notice when they help you dress. He takes you everywhere he can. On your bed, on your sofa, on your stable, on your dining table again. On the floor of the kitchen when you were stubborn enough to attempt to clean up one night. On the back of your wagon after you sold your remaining supplies in Valentine.

"Someone will see us, Arthur." You whispered as you tried desperately not to come apart.

"Let them,” he dared as he sank inside you again, his own limit verging forward. "Let them see how pretty you are for me."

----

The last day is more emotional than you imagined. None of you speak much, the palpable tension hanging in the air like uninvited mist. You finish packing your bags, tidying up the rest of the house so you can find everything in its place when you return. Arthur is absent most of the day but you figure he must be close by as Titus remains at the stable. You're unsure of what he's doing but you realize how upset he must be if he doesn't even want to be with you. The soup you serve for lunch is as cold as the look he gives you, a man clearly dreading the change about to come.

Your chores are finished as the afternoon begins to unwind, the whole time dreadful as you both loathe the upcoming goodbye. Arthur shows up when you finish placing your bags on the porch, offering to hoist them up to the wagon now led by your mare Amber. You'll leave her to the care of the Valentine farrier until you return.

A bittersweet feeling invades you when you walk through your house one last time before you leave, making sure your windows are closed and the lamps are put out. Every room is flooded with memories of the irresistible time you've had with Arthur, one that is so regretfully about to end. You close the door on your now darkened house and you wonder how different everything will be when you open it again.

Despite his obvious sorrow, Arthur helps you climb the wagon, caressing your elbow once you're settled. "I'll come round here every once in a while. Make sure it remains closed."

His promise to guard your home is comforting and you smile at him, both as a thank you and as a hint to kiss you. But he shies away and mounts Titus instead, leading you out of your yard and into the road of a reality where your dazzling affair ceases to be.

The ride to Valentine is mostly silent, or at least one-sided as you attempt to tell him of your aunt and uncle's burgeoning life in Saint Denis. You barely get a response out of him, his short replies muffled by the raucous of the wheels of the wagon. You're almost at your destination when he utters his most verbose reply yet.

"Those rich folk in Saint Denis… Don't let them change you."

"I won't."

He nods his head swiftly at your affirmation, the leather of his hat shining with the last rays of the parting sun.

It's dusk when the muddy trails of Valentine slow down your wagon, making the trip to the hotel vexing. Arthur drops off your bags at your assigned room before you both head to the farrier, where you woefully say goodbye to Amber. You leave with the farrier's word that he'll take good care of her and you believe him as he begins to count the money you pay him in advance for his service.

Arthur invites you for dinner at the saloon before you retire to the hotel, paying for both your meals despite your insistence to do so. The ambiance is rather noisy as the pianist plays away and the town's drunkards begin to gather at the bar. Both of you eat quickly to leave before the unavoidable ruckus of the night begins.

When the door of your hotel room closes, both of your spirits are solemn and hushed, the tension of the day dragging inside, festering along with the dread of saying goodbye. Arthur stands by the door unlatching his belt before he sits on a chair, watching as you pretend to busy yourself with arranging the luggage, waiting for word on what to do next. You feel his eyes follow your every move, shifting in his seat as he tries to gather the courage to say something. But the impasse drags on as you keep avoiding him, afraid that his heartbroken gaze might break you. You fiddle with the dress you plan on wearing tomorrow, kneeling down on the floor as the tension between you grows to a suffocating standstill, neither of you prepared to end the affair between you.

After a moment that seems to last forever, you feel Arthur’s heavy feet on the floor as he moves towards you, his knees then sinking next to yours on the floor, his hands grabbing you by the hips, his chest warm against the curve of your back. Instead of speaking a single word, his lips find the crook of your neck, getting it wet with the start of his goodbye. You lean back into him to welcome his touch as you realize this is the start of what could be the last time he holds you like you belong together.

His lips busy themselves with whatever part of your skin they can find as you feel his hands roam among your peaks and your valleys, ruffling the cloth that keeps him from kissing the rest of your body. You clutch the side of his thighs as you open yourself to his advances, your head falling on his shoulder as his hands work their way south to pull up your skirt. A stifled groan leaves your throat when he glides through the inside of your legs, warming you up to the sin about to come.

Instead of leaving your thighs, his hands tighten around them, pulling you closer to him as he plants a hungry kiss at your collarbone, now grinding himself against your skirt, your nails clawing at his jeans. You’re lost in the euphoria of the moment as his arms flex and he suddenly picks you up from the ground, your legs going limp as you surrender to his brute tender force.

Before you know it he has you spreadeagled on the bed as he rises above you, his fingers gripping your waistband to remove your skirt in one swoop, returning again to remove your bloomers, the cold of the room hitting as your core and your wetness are exposed. Arthur looms, watching you for a moment before he gets on his knees again to begin kissing your inner thighs, staying on them for longer than you wish, hungry to be lavished but still dreading the departure. Impatient, you grab his hair with force to lead him to your center and he soon wraps his lips around your own, prying from you unadulterated bliss like always.

You are not sure if it’s because you are parting, or if it’s because he knows you so well by now, but your release comes faster than usual, leaving you a whimpering fool at the foot of the bed. Your feet steady on the edge of the mattress, your legs still shaking as you watch Arthur through them. He rises and undresses, his lips still shining with the taste of your cunt. He’s soon naked before you, working his arousal as your chest tries to settle, a futile effort as you realize you’ll soon be panting again.

The sweat still damps your brow when your eyes meet in tandem, the moment before either of you acts on the urge to surrender against each other. His throat contracts with the itch of desire as his hand still works, his feet bringing him closer to the bed. You unbutton the frivolity of your shirt, stripping yourself for him and exposing your breasts just as you expose your yearning for him. Your sore legs extend as you scooch higher into the bed, leaving them open for Arthur to ravish you.

Your eyes never part as he climbs the bed, his hands coming to caress your naked body as he pleases, starting on your knees, your thighs, your waist, your breasts. Like he’s trying to imprint in his mind what it feels like to touch you. His thumb travels up your throat with his usual softness, undercut only by the roughness of his calloused skin. He traces your jaw a few times before he dares to finally bend down to kiss you like it’s the first time. Or maybe the last.

Everything that happens next is both too slow and too fast at the same time as you begin to blend together. It’s both a bittersweet goodbye and an overjoyed gratitude for your time together. The perfect love affair that may never come again.

His kisses turn hungry but deep and slow, his body now overbearing you with the crushing weight of losing him, the only man that has ever made love to you rather than possess you. Your hands pull him closer to you, roaming his physique for a possible way to make him fused into you so you can never let him go. But there is still a part of you that aches for him to go deeper.

His full size is hot rubbing against your stomach, tantalizing you with the remaining part of him he still has to give you. You moan into him as his tongue delights with yours, your hips undulating against each other, rocking the flame of hot desire running through you both, itching to burn into ashes. Your hand slides down from his chiseled back, entering the tight space between you, soon finding a way to the hard pulse of his member. Your fingers resume his efforts to excite him, his mouth opening in surprise as it still wraps around yours, trying to swallow you as he tries to contain his elation. Your hand is steady, enough to get him to open his eyes so he can see yours, begging him to slide down so he can enter you once more.

His strong hands are quick to grab the thickness of your thighs, placing them beside his hips as he positions himself between them, his erection now pressed against the lips he has kissed countless times in the past months. He rubs himself against your folds, tantalizing you with the depth of ecstasy your whole soul desires, eager to feel him pulse inside you, a feeling to be recalled once you're back on your own. His hands settle close to your buttocks as he angles himself down, prodding your entrance with eagerness in his proud but roaming eyes.

The stretch is pondered as usual, perhaps even slower as somehow you feel it more achingly, your body coming alive with the tip of his carnality, soon devoured by breathlessness as he settles deep within you. His chest is high above yours before he moves to close the gap, his lungs soon reverberating atop your breasts, his hands now holding onto your shoulders to finish his burial. A somber pause follows as you look into each other's eyes, closer than two bodies could ever be, the silence only broken by the beating of aching hearts, now realizing the time has come to end their unwanted goodbye.

The sad realization is only broken by your mutual restlessness, the will to finish what you started. The first roll of Arthur's hip comes as natural as the tears forming in your eyes, which manage to escape after a few more of his thrusts. As he picks up the pace, somehow holding you in his arms as you hold him in yours, the sex seems miraculously paced, not too fast so you can’t savor it, not too slow that you can’t quiver with every move. The perfect farewell of an imperfect romance.

The bittersweet rhapsody is only broken when Arthur suddenly speaks.

"Come back to me, missy." Another crash of your hips. "Come back to me."

The weight of his words is not lost even as you start to lose control. In fact, they seem to unravel you faster as you realize his desire for you runs as deep as yours for him. His complete surrender to worship your body and his fixed gaze on you tells you he means it. He keeps his tempo steady to inch you closer and closer to another heavenly release, struggling hard to contain his own. You watch as his muscles flex in restraint, his eyes adamant to watch you unfold into expected bliss, his member repeatedly crashing into your sensitive spot. You try to savor the high as much as you can, wishing it could go on forever, but it becomes unbearable to hold it in. You have no choice but to surrender to Arthur’s parting wish to see you come for him.

You hope that one day you’ll be able to grant him his wish to come back.

----

Valentine grows incredibly quiet once the noise from the saloon quiets down, the night perfectly still for a few hours before the sun breaks, the perfect lullaby to fall asleep. But when the dawn comes, the racket on the street below your hotel window gradually wakes you up as you lie on your side of the bed. The other side is empty.

Arthur’s belongings are gone, his clothes no longer crumpled by the foot of the bed, his gun belt no longer hung by the door. But his aroma lingers behind and you inch closer to his pillow to bury your nose in it. The image of him reaching his peak flashes in your mind, his mouth agape, his eyes strained. You feel the faint sensation of his cock still buried inside you, your walls clenching at the memory. The sheets are stained with his sweat, which left behind a musky smell, now the only evidence of his passion for you during the night. He held you in his arms for a long while after your romp, but neither of you uttered a word, knowing full well there was no better way to say goodbye. You looked into his piercing longing eyes before you fell asleep to the lulling of your quiet valentine.

His absence this morning tells you how hard this is for him. He’d rather abandon a comfortable bed with your naked body than watch you leave, unsure if you’re ever returning to your side of the bed. You can’t tell how he slipped out so quietly, his footsteps are always as heavy as his build. Perhaps he tiptoed until he left the room, scared he’d beg you to stay if he saw you awake. Or maybe the sex left you so satiated your sleep was deeper than his escape, maybe clanging his boots loudly on the floor in the hopes that he’d wake you.

You want nothing else but to seclude yourself under the covers, shielded from the outer world with nothing but the memories of Arthur to keep you company. But by the way the sun begins to shine you can tell it must be a little before seven, so you must not have much time before you are to be ready. You stay still for a few more minutes, his pillow still underneath you, the duvet entangled on your legs as if they were his own. His words still ring in your ears. Come back to me.

Getting dressed is easy even if the dress is not, something more formal so you can enter Saint Denis in a more reputable fashion. Your aunt ought to love the paleness of its blue. It can’t take you more than half an hour to have everything ready, your luggage and your hat ready to put on by the door. You figure you still have a while before your carriage arrives. You give in to the craving of laying back down on the bed, thinking of him right where he had you. You don’t remember closing your eyes when a knock on the door rouses you and you’re still yawning as you go down the stairs, your last piece of luggage being carried by your driver. The smell of Valentine hits your nose as soon as you step outside and you become fully awake.

The carriage is small but very comfortable, the cushions soft but sturdy enough for a long voyage. Since you’ll be traveling alone, there’s room enough to stretch your legs and sleep sideways. But only after the stink of the town stays behind. For now, you think you’ll read the novel that has sat by your nightstand for the past months, untouched since the day a stranger stole an apple from your yard.

As soon as the carriage starts moving you know you’re not gonna be able to read, the words soon becoming blurry by the sway of the wagon. You look outside the window as the farrier comes into view and you hope to get a glimpse of your mare Amber but all you see are brown and black horses inside. She must be kept on the other side of the stable. The Valentine mud gets stickier as the road continues, but the buildings get scarcer and the smell quells once you cross the railroad track.

Nothing but thoughts sit with you inside the car. Thoughts of your aunt and uncle and their faces when they see you arrive, the sweet tender moments you’ll have in the upcoming weeks. Thoughts of a classier life in Saint Denis and how much you’ll miss the perfect solitude of your cabin, the magical stillness of the nature that surrounds it. Thoughts of your husband and the disgust that comes with them, a bitter ache that you might see him again, a painful reminder of a loveless marriage that you’d like to escape.

But more than any other thoughts, thoughts of Arthur. Thoughts of the months you have spent together crowd your every inch as you recall moments you’ve shared, embraces you’ve exchanged, kisses you’ve borrowed, passion you’ve stolen. A lover you’ve earned. He has made you come alive again and again and suddenly it hits you how vital he has been in your life. It’s no longer a question of how much you’ll miss him but how much it’ll hurt to be apart from him. It’s a question of how long your heart will ache while the muscles of your body still recall the respite of his healing touch. Will it be long enough for you to reach Saint Denis? Will you make it there and still feel him on you? Are you doomed to feel him forever? Has the memory of his lips turned into unending despair? The New Haven scenery stretches out before you but your eyes see a blank veil as the wheels of your mind turn in fallen sorrow, crippling thoughts consuming you, setting you on a ride to remember.

The ruminating of your mind is broken when the carriage suddenly slows, stalling when two men on horseback cross the intersecting road. You look out to the right side window and see the edge of the woods. A dead tree stands out, half broken as it lays snapped in half on the ground. The gentlemen emerge from view as they make their way past the carriage. The first is a sullen man, his face covered in deep scars that make him even more menacing. The second is Arthur Morgan.

It’s as if he materializes from your thoughts, as if he knew you needed to see him again. You try hard not to blink for fear he’ll scurry from you again. He slows his horse steadily, his eyes never leaving yours once he finds them, his chest immobile despite the breath he takes as he watches you pass, his leather gloves tightening the grip on the reins. In a few microseconds you feel your throat close and your hands going limp, your body and your soul dumbstruck by the mere sight of your lover.

You both remain still as you watch each other pass, frozen by the flames of passion still burning between you. A few seconds feel like hours as the carriage turns on the road, until suddenly his figure disappears from your window. You snap, swiftly turning your head to look out of the back window, your knees steady to hold you in position as you stare at him once more. His position has moved to watch you leave, his own horse wondering whether he should follow behind you.

But it’s his eyes. His unyielding radiant eyes strike you mad, his irises fixed on your own like he’s trying to tell you something.

Something only you can decipher. Something only you can fulfill.

Come back to me, missy.

Come back to me.

-

A/N: The next chapter should be out soon enough. It has been written in my head for months now. It is after all, the reason why I made this fic in the first place…

[trulyunholy]

no in-between | part two

matt murdock x reader, college au

notes: 18+, minors please DNI. reader is written as afab, but it's not specifically stated. no use of y/n. word count: 3.6k

part one here

“Shit, shit, shit.”

“What’s going on with you?” Annie asks when she finds you cursing in the hotel lobby.

“No room, apparently,” you tell her through a frustrated sigh. “Online reservation got fucked up and they don’t have any more vacant rooms.”

“Shit, indeed,” Annie says. “What are you gonna do?”

You sigh deeply again and shrug. “Figure something out, I guess.”

“Do you wanna crash with me?” she offers. “I’m staying with Quin too, but-”

“No, no, that’s alright,” you decline quickly. This trip is already stressing you out, and as much as you love Annie and how close the two of you have become over the past few months, staying even a night with her and her girlfriend sounded like hell. “I’ll figure this out. But thanks.”

“Well, let me know if you change your mind,” she says. And then she’s off again, flouncing up the stairs toward her room to do whatever it is she does to get ready for the rest of her day.

You sink down into one of the lobby chairs and bury your face in your hands, allowing yourself a moment of self-pity. But it’s quickly interrupted when someone politely clears their throat next to you.

“Oh, shit, uh, I mean- Dr. Murdock. Hi,” you stutter, a mixture of embarrassment and surprise in your voice.

“I couldn’t help but overhear,” he says politely. “You’re out a room?”

“Yeah,” you say defeatedly. Then, a little too quickly, you add, “But, I mean, it’s not a big deal. I can just, like, sleep in the lobby or something. Maybe they’ll make an exception for me since they screwed up.”

Your attempt at a joke falls flat. But the way he says your name then, followed by a humorless laugh, like you going without a bed was the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard of, well, it tightens something in your chest.

“You aren’t sleeping in the lobby,” he tells you. “And it’s unlikely you’ll find any other hotels nearby with vacancies. Turns out this conference has most places pretty booked up.” Then, only seconds later, he holds a plastic card out toward you. “Just take mine.”

“I, uh-” You laugh uncomfortably, thinking maybe it’s a joke. “I can’t do that.”

“Sure you can,” he tells you, matter-of-factly.

You feel frozen in place. You don’t want to be rude and turn down the more-than-generous offer that Dr. Murdock has no obligation to make, but you can’t possibly accept it. Besides, wouldn’t it be inappropriate? You aren’t sure where the line fell on that, but it feels blurry at best.

“But where would you stay?” you ask solemnly. “If I take your room, I mean, where would you sleep?”

“Don’t worry about me,” he answers, flashing you a smile so hypnotic you couldn’t look away, even if you wanted to. “I’ll figure something out.”

“That doesn’t seem fair,” you say, a joking tone contrasting against your racing heart.

“Come on,” he tells you, slipping the door key back in his coat pocket and starting toward the front doors of the hotel. “We can argue about this on the way to the conference.”

The first day of the two-day conference is…uneventful. Okay, it’s boring. But it’s not like you can skip, and you have to admit that several of the presentations did give you solid ideas for your own thesis project. But after several hours of speakers and polite conversations with acquaintances and scholarly strangers alike, you’re ready for the day to be over.  As luck would have it, you run into Dr. Murdock in the hotel lobby, both of you arriving at nearly the same time. Unfortunately, he’d won the argument earlier, and you’d agreed to take his room. But now, standing in front of the door to his hotel room, you’re hesitant again.

“I still don’t feel good about this,” you tell him as he holds the key card toward you expectantly. You take it. “But thank you.”

You wait for him to say something, to say goodbye, anything. But he doesn’t. When you don’t say anything either, he clears his throat.

“My, uh- my suitcase is still-”

“Oh, right!” You feel like an idiot. “Sorry.”

You unlock the door and step inside, taking in the room. It looks just like every other hotel room you’ve stayed in, with a decent sized bed and a television perched on top of a chest of drawers. There’s a desk pushed against the wall with an office chair in front of it, and a small couch opposite the bed.

It gives you an idea.

“Okay, this may be strange, but hear me out. What if I sleep on the couch?” you ask before you can think better of it.

He steps in behind you and shuts the door. He doesn’t immediately answer you, so you quickly continue.

“I can sleep on the couch and then you’ll still have a bed! I- I know it’s not ideal. Hell, I know it probably isn’t exactly appropriate. But it won’t be weird, I swear. Or, maybe it will be, but it doesn’t have to be.”

You hate the way you ramble when you’re nervous, and you hate that you’re always doing it in front of Dr. Murdock. His face remains unreadable, so you take a deep breath and start again.

Look, I don’t like the idea of sleeping in the lobby or a broom closet somewhere, but I don’t like the idea of you having to, either. Especially since you’re, y’know…”

“Blind?” he suggests with a smirk.

“Well, yes,” you admit sheepishly, heat rushing to your cheeks. “But there’s a perfectly good couch here, and there’s no reason either of us should go without if we don’t have to.”

Silence again. More than anything, you wish you could just read his mind, know what he’s thinking.

“It really is a win-win right?” you add in as a last-ditch effort to convince him. “I’ll stay on the couch, I’ll stay out of your way. And I’ll be gone first thing in the morning.”

What is wrong with you? This is such a bad idea, and he’s probably going to admonish you, tell you how inappropriate the mere suggestion of it is, that he’s going to have to report this. You’d probably deserve it, too.

“Alright,” he finally says hesitantly, to your surprise. “But you can have the bed. I’ll take the couch.”

“What? No-” you begin to protest, but he raises a hand to stop you.

“You can have the bed,” he repeats, slower this time, “and I’ll take the couch.”

It’s not up for discussion, you realize. You nod your head, say okay, and move to put your bag on the bed. As you begin to unpack, you remember another awkward aspect of room-sharing.

“Is, uh, is it alright if I take a shower?”

You aren’t sure why you feel a little embarrassed asking. Taking a shower isn’t anything intimate, and there would be walls and a door with a lock between the two of you. No chance for accidental slip-ups. Still, the thought of him being in the next room while you were in such a vulnerable state, well, it’s enough to send something icy through your body that you know a hot shower won’t wash away.

“All yours,” he says, not turning toward you as he shuffles through his own suitcase.

“Thanks,” you say, hurrying to the bathroom. “Promise I’ll be quick.”

You think he says something else, but it’s lost behind the heavy click of the bathroom door.

You aren’t sure why your heart is racing again as you adjust the knob in the shower, trying to figure out which way to turn the damn thing to get the water to a decent temperature. Well, that’s not quite true. You know exactly why it’s racing. It’s racing because you’re sharing a room with Dr. Murdock. Because he’s only feet away from you as you kick off your uncomfortable heels and slip out of your dress. Because you know that tonight you’re going to see your professor -your kind, helpful, smart, stupidly attractive professor- in a very less than professional setting.

God, what are you doing?

Why did you agree to this? As you step into the shower and struggle to find comfort in the low water pressure, you can’t help but think about how much better sleeping in the lobby or a broom closet or literally anywhere else would be.

Well, maybe not better. But it would avoid a situation that could so easily ruin things. The way it could make these ridiculous and stupid and inappropriate feelings you’ve already formed so much worse. But what else were you supposed to do? It’s the logical choice. And he agreed to it.

But you suggested it.

You push down the thought as you make quick work of washing your hair and ignoring the temptation of easing the uncomfortable pressure building up inside of you. By the time you’re done and dressed in your pajamas, no more than twenty minutes have passed. You aren’t sure you’ve ever gotten ready for bed so quickly in your life.

“All done,” you say cheerfully as you step out of the bathroom, leftover steam rolling out of the door behind you. “Bathroom’s free if you…need it.

“Great,” he says, shooting you a comfortable smile that almost feels forced. Like a mask. One of politeness, of tense togetherness. You wonder if you’re wearing the same one. “I hope you didn’t rush.”

“No, no,” you say with a tense chuckle. “Just, uh, exhausted. Ready for bed.”

He nods, and without another word, he’s gone, the bathroom door closing softly behind him.

You sit on the bed for no more than a minute before you start devising a plan. There’s no way you’re letting him sleep on this couch. For one, it’s insanely small, and you’re significantly shorter than he is, so it only makes sense. Also, you can’t, in good conscience, let your professor, your senior, sleep on that tiny couch while you, his student, take up the entire queen sized bed yourself. It just wouldn’t be fair. And since this whole situation was your idea in the first place, you feel you have to get the short stick. You can’t justify this whole thing to yourself otherwise.

So you quickly grab a couple pillows off of the bed and an extra blanket from the closet, and you make yourself as comfortable as possible on the couch, your legs curled closer to your stomach than is strictly comfortable, but you manage. If you can fall asleep here before he gets out of the bathroom, you figure he’ll just let you sleep and take the bed. He couldn’t argue with you that way. Another win in your book.

At first you’re worried that you’ll have a hard time falling asleep. You always have trouble sleeping away from home, away from your own bed with your own pillows and blankets and your little sound machine that you forgot to pack for the trip. But you’re exhausted. From the plane this morning, from the long day, from the hours and hours you spent before the trip preparing for this conference. And as you lay in the dark, listening to the rain against the building and the thunder growing more distant, and as you hear the fall of water as the shower is turned on again, you finally drift off to sleep.

When you wake up, you aren’t sure why. Maybe it’s the thunder that moved closer while you slept. Maybe it was your full bladder from all of the water you nervously kept drinking to keep your hands busy at the conference hall. Maybe it was just how uncomfortable this damn couch was. Whatever the reason, you’re awake now, and you take the opportunity to get up and stretch and take a quick trip to the bathroom.

You’re careful to be as quiet as you possibly can, even washing your hands under the smallest stream of water you can manage to get out of the sink. But by the time you crack open the bathroom door, you see him in the light that spills out, sitting up in the bed and rubbing his face.

“Shit,” you whisper, even though there’s no real need to whisper. You’re both up now. “Did I wake you up? I’m sorry, I tried to be quiet.”

“I’m a light sleeper,” is all he says. His voice, though, doesn’t sound like he was sleeping. It sounds clear, alert. Much different from your still-groggy voice. You wonder if he always wakes up so alert.

“I’m sorry,” you offer again, voice still quiet.

He doesn’t say anything at first. Which makes sense. What is there to say? But you move from the bathroom back toward the couch, and click on the lamp on the coffee table next to you. The room wasn’t huge by any means. But there’s enough distance between the two of you that it doesn’t feel as awkward as you were afraid it would. 

What is awkward, though, is the silence. The air is tense while you stand by the coffee table and he sits resting against the headboard, looking completely lost in thought. You take the opportunity to look him over, taking in his slept-in appearance. The comforter is pulled up to his waist, but you admire the light t-shirt he’s wearing, so different from his usual professional attire. You take in his shoulders, his arms, and stare at him in the soft lamp light longer than necessary. You’re completely startled when he finally speaks up.

“Why did you take the couch?’ he asks, his voice soft but his tone serious. “I told you-”

“I couldn’t take the bed,” you start, defensively. “You’re my professor, and my superior, and you’re blind, for god's sake. What kind of person would I be if I let you sleep on this couch when you paid for the room? Especially because that thing is so damn uncomfortable.” You rub your back dramatically as if to prove a point, but a genuine stretch and groan follows.

He goes silent again. You don’t think you've ever seen him so quiet. You aren’t sure if it’s the night, or if it’s the situation, or maybe both. But you would give anything to be in his head right now. To know what he’s thinking, what he’s contemplating, what’s taking up so much of his mind.

“Sleep on the bed,” he says, and there’s no hint of a question in his voice. As if he’s worried that the demand was too harsh, he adds a soft, “Please.”

“You can’t sleep-”

“I won’t sleep on the couch,” he says, beating you to your own tired argument.

“What, are you going to sleep on the floor?” you bite back. You’re tired. It’s late, you couldn’t have been asleep long, it’s still dark outside, and you wish he would just give in and let you win this one.

“No, I-“ he cuts himself short, seeming unsure for just a moment before regaining his composure. “This bed is more than big enough for two people,” he says, voice level. “It’s big enough that two people could sleep on it without…being in each other's way.”

Oh. He’s suggesting…that. He’s actually suggesting that the two of you share a bed. 

He wants to share a bed. With you. 

No, that’s not right. 

With you? No, of course it’s not like that, you tell yourself. He’s just being diplomatic. It’s an easy solution to come to, just like you suggesting the couch. It doesn’t mean anything. It can’t mean anything. 

But if anyone finds out that you shared a bed with your professor., even if it was nothing like it sounded, well, it could be disastrous. For both of you.

But the bed looks warm, and inviting, and a thousand times better than the scratchy extra blanket and that uncomfortable couch. And he’s right, there’s more than enough room for you to each sleep on one side with plenty of space in the middle. There won’t be any risk of…anything. You stop yourself immediately from thinking about what that anything could be and take a deep breath.

“Only if you’re comfortable with it, of course. I understand that it isn’t exactly appropriate and if you’re uncomfortable, forget I even suggested it. But…” He lets the word linger in the air, and it’s so full of possibilities, of actions and consequences and everything in between, and your chest starts to feel tight again. “It’s a win-win. Right?”

“What if someone finds out?” 

The question is out of your mouth before you even realize what you’re saying, and you wish you could take it back. It makes it sound like you’re insinuating that something could happen, when that isn’t a possibility at all, of course it isn’t, because he’s professional and smart and kind, and you’re…well, you.

Luckily he doesn’t give you much time to spiral.

“I won’t tell if you don’t.”

You know it’s meant as a joke, as a tongue-in-cheek, let’s make light of an awkward situation, kind of thing. But…maybe it’s the hushed tone he’s still speaking, or the soft yellow light casting shadows in just the right way, or his soft t-shirt and his disheveled hair and his arms and my god those arms.

It’s almost like he notices your reaction; maybe he hears the way your breath catches, or maybe your heart is beating so loudly he could hear it out of your chest and across the room. It sure as hell feels like it’s pounding loud and fast enough for that to be possible. But he tenses up too, just a bit. Just enough to be noticeable under your admiringly sharp stare.

“We both need the rest,” he adds, voice much calmer than his appearance would suggest. It sounds practiced, measured. “You won’t get any rest on that couch, and I won’t be able to sleep knowing that you’re miserable on it. Besides, I’ll be gone before you wake up.”

It’s meant to reassure you. Or maybe to throw your words back at you to lighten the mood, to try to show that things aren’t as tense as they clearly were. But you swallow it down and force a pathetic smile onto your face and into your voice.

“There’s enough pillows here to make a barrier between us,” you say, trying out a joke to lighten things on your end, too. He chuckles and shakes his head and the tension does melt away a little. “I am exhausted. And you’re right, I won’t get any sleep on that poor excuse for a couch,” you say. “Just…as long as you’re sure it’s okay with you.”

“Of course,” he says, and, almost immediately, throws the comforter back, settles himself back in bed, and turns to his side to face the wall. To face away from you.

Without another word, you flip the lamp off and carefully make your way to the bed. You go slowly to avoid tripping or hitting your foot like you’re prone to do, but also to delay the inevitable disappointment that being so close to him will undoubtedly bring. Once you get into the bed though, you swear it’s the most comfortable bed you’ve ever laid in, and the sheets are so warm. And the rain hitting rhythmically against the window reminds you of your sound machine that you left at home, and your exhaustion washes over you and weighs down your eyelids once more.

“Thank you,” you mumble a few moments later before drifting off.

When you open your eyes, the room is flooded with gray morning light. The rain stopped overnight but you can tell from your view through the window that it could start up again at any moment. You’re so warm under the thick comforter and the thought of having to get up makes you groan out loud. You have to admit, you haven’t slept this well in a long time. As the sleep dissipates from your brain, you remember where you are and the situation that transpired the night before. You feel a coil of anticipation growing tight in your stomach, but when you turn around and shuffle to sit up, you see the bed is empty.

You aren’t sure what you were expecting. He told you he’d be gone by the time you woke up. So why does disappointment grow in your stomach and snake through your veins?  You pull the comforter up across your chest and grant yourself a few seconds to sit in that disappointment. Would it have been worse if he had been there when you woke up? Would what seemed so simple in the soft lamp light last night be more complex, more uncomfortable in the gray light of the overcast morning? You aren’t sure.

But you don’t have much time to think about it now anyway. You have to get up and get ready for the busy day ahead of you. With one more stretch and a deep breath that leaves you ignoring the fact that the sheets smell like him, you force yourself out of bed and toward the bathroom.

You wonder if you’ll find any evidence of his daily life in the hotel bathroom, toothpaste or body wash maybe. You can’t help but think about what his domestic life is like. What it could look like and where you could fit into it. Would you ever be able to fit into the life of a man like him?

No. Of course you couldn’t. And you should really stop thinking about things like that, you tell yourself.

The bathroom is totally clean, stocked with fresh towels and all. You tell yourself that the feeling tugging at your stomach again is nothing more than a need to eat breakfast.

[rainwingmarvel7]

So I'm sorry if I'm asking to munch questions today but 😆 I'm really curious about this. So first of all I want to know more about Kaleb, especially regarding to his relationships with both Rhaenyra and Alicent. But the real question is more about the 'tension" that was built in the show with Rhaenyra and Alicent, are you gonna address that or simply keep it platonic? What would Kaleb thought about this? How Rhae and Alicent's dynamic change with Kaleb in between?

Honestly I love all of the questions, so please, keep them coming!

So, Kaleb and his ladies!

Kaleb first meets them when he comes to King’s Landing in his early teens, having been sent to live there by his father to learn the ways of court. Seeing as they’re all around the same age, with Kaleb being a year older than Rhaenyra, they immediately gravitated towards each other and became fast friends. Soon enough, Kaleb was as much of Rhaenyra’s companion as Alicent.

For a while, it was mostly mutual pining between Kaleb and Rhaenyra (as well as Kaleb and Alicent, though less so on Kaleb’s end), as Kaleb felt it was not his place to act on his feelings toward a princess. They were both aware of their shared feelings but never acted on it. Well, at least not until the death of Queen Aemma. After the funeral, an emotional Rhaenyra and Kaleb admit their feelings for one another and sleep together for the first time. They only continued to do so after that.

Around the same time, knowing that he would never be able to marry Rhaenyra himself and having feelings towards her as well (albeit not as strong), Kaleb approached Otto Hightower to ask for his permission to marry Alicent to spare her the possibility of being married off to someone she didn’t want. Otto declined, but the gesture wasn’t lost on Alicent.

Though Kaleb preferred Rhaenyra, he did sleep with Alicent once in their youth, while Viserys was away. That was the only time it happens, and they kept it a closely guarded secret, one that not even Rhaenyra knew about it.

Kaleb and Rhaenyra continued their affair for several years, into the first year of her marriage to Laenor. Immediately after the wedding, she and Laenor traveled to Raven’s Keep with Kaleb, where she would eventually become pregnant with their twins, Therese and Tristan. A few months after they were born, and Kaleb didn’t see either woman until he returned to King’s Landing ten years later.

When he came back, things were different between him and the two women. There was more tension - and more obstacles, especially with Rhaenyra. While Kaleb had some competition with Criston Cole in the past, now he had to deal with Daemon. It wasn’t easy, but he was able to get around him, especially once the Dance began and Daemon was away in Harrenhal. Rhaenyra leaned on him heavily during the Dance, in particular after the deaths of their children and her own. And once Daemon died, she didn’t hesitate to marry Kaleb instead, beneath the weirwood tree in the Red Keep’s godswood. He witnessed her death, though his own life was spared, and for the rest of his life he was haunted by the memory of Rhaenyra being set aflame, burning alive while he could do nothing to help her.

As for Alicent, following the end of the Dance, Kaleb sought her out, his single comfort amongst the immense grief he faced, and hers too. He would sneak into her chambers, even after his marriage to Lady Jeyne Arryn, and where it had only been a bud of romance before, it now blossomed into a relationship, albeit a secret one. It would result in the birth of their son, Brandon, and only a few months later, Alicent too would die, leaving Kaleb alone once again, having lost another woman he loved.

Rhaenyra and Alicent

This might be a bit controversial, but I do not like Rhaenicent. To me, they’re just best friends, and that’s how they are in Soaring Higher. There’s tension, but rather than being romantic, it’s two women who were once the best of friends, who still care for each other and love each other, entirely platonically. There is also jealousy between them when it comes to Kaleb, mostly on Alicent’s end.

Kaleb really just wishes they’d get along. He misses the good old days when they were young and all close to one another. It hurts him to see the two women act with such animosity towards one another. He definitely tries to mediate between the two when he can, often with little to no success. And neither of them can ever really stay mad at him when he does because they know that’s all he’s trying to do.

Their dynamic with each other is otherwise the same. Now there’s just a guy they both like added into the mix, so there’s just some extra feelings thrown in there to the already complicated mess.

[imaginedanvrs]

encrypted relations

part 2 l masterlist

summary: yelena belova x reader. when natasha takes you under her wing, she becomes like family, and the last thing you want is to lose that. but when you meet her younger sister who you know is off limits, you have to decide between what you really want and hope for minimal damage

word count: 4k

warnings: mentions of past abusive relationship, manipulation, implied sexual assault

After several days of having it in your possession, you finally gained access to all of the files on the device Yelena gave you and sent her a text to come over. You hadn’t heard from since she had last messaged you but Kate had been filling you in on all of the details of everything she and Yelena had achieved. It all sounded…full on. It was inevitable given that they were fighting highly trained assassins, but this time was different to the last Kate had been involved in. Your anxieties over your friend’s safety were only heightened when she came by your apartment in need of some bandages, though it also made you more eager to do your part to help. 

  Yelena came by an hour after you told her the device was ready, just as she said she would. “Hey, home intruder,” you greeted. 

  “Y/n l/n,” she countered as you let her in, a smirk forming on her lips. 

  “You know, if you want us to be friends you might think about being less formal,” you advised, knowing there was nothing actually formal about the blonde. You just needed her to stop smirking so that you could stop thinking about how hot she looked when she did. 

  “Noted,” she said as she followed you to your desktop. 

  “I haven’t had much of a look around, but the amount of information this thing was holding was so much more than I anticipated,” you explained as you scrolled down the file folders to display the extent of it all. “It could honestly take months to get through and that's under the assumption that there aren’t more hidden encryptions and locks.” You motioned for Yelena to sit as you made your way to the kitchen. “Can I get you anything?”

  “A coffee,” she said as her eyes scanned across all of the file names for something that stood out. She wasn’t sure where to even start. “We’ll have to send some of this to mom,” Yelena muttered. You nodded as you brought the coffee over, Natasha never called Melina mom.

  “Maybe all of it, there might be some things here that we miss,” you admitted, bringing over another keyboard and stool to help manage the workload. “How is everything going on the ground?” You tried to ask conversationally but Yelena could pick up on your nerves. 

  “It’s challenging but it helps that Kate is there. I’m becoming a fan of those trick arrows.” You hummed, trying to look focused on the other monitor. 

  “Kate’s managing it okay then?”

  “Of course, she is a good fighter. Very good form,” Yelena added as she remembered when Kate had used it on her when they first met. You didn’t say anything to that. You knew Kate was a good fighter, but she was facing the best who, in their altered state, wouldn’t hesitate to kill her. 

  “I won’t let her get hurt,” she said sincerely as she looked at you. You didn’t turn your head to meet her gaze, not when your heart was already thumping faster than usual. 

  “Thank you,” you settled for, just as Marty got up from his dog bed next to the sofa. Yelena watched him stroll over. 

  “Hello Marty,” Yelena greeted and you had to bite your gum to stop your smile at how sweet the spy sounded. Marty seemed to think so too because his tail started wagging frantically as he leaned into Yelena’s pets. “What kind of breed is he?” The blonde asked when Marty lifted his front paws up onto her lap. 

  “Some kind of mutt, I found him in a dumpster,” you recalled, making Yelena raise her brows. 

  “I see why you and Kate are friends,” Yelena muttered as she patted the top of Marty’s head and turned back around. “I want a dog when this is all over,” the blonde sighed. 

  “Really? I saw you as more of a cat person,” you deadpanned, earning a sharp gasp from the Russian. 

  “Take that back!” She demanded in a way you couldn’t help but laugh at.

  “What? You have cat-like eyes,” you observed. 

  “I do not like you anymore, y/n l/n,” she huffed as she browsed through the files. 

  “At least I know you did,” you pointed out. 

  “I thought that was obvious,” Yelena said and you could just hear that goddamn smirk. You cleared your throat and stood up from the desk. 

  “You spies are impossible to read,” you half assed the explanation. 

  “I guess I’ll have to be more forward in the future.” You weren’t sure you liked the sound of that, not with the suggestive tone Yelena was using. You dismissed it immediately, putting it down to the blonde just being a flirty person, though you couldn’t deny that there was a part of you that hoped not. 

  You grabbed a glass of water and briefly observed the blonde who was now reading through the files studiously. It was getting late and you hadn’t had any dinner yet making you wonder if she had. “I’m gonna order some food, do you want anything?”  

  An hour later you and Yelena were finishing your noodles while a random episode of Survivor played on your third monitor. You could have played it on your tv but you and Yelena were trying to get through as many of the files as you could but such a tedious task needed its breaks. 

  “I could have done that,” Yelena uttered as she put more hot sauce in her container. 

  “That’s what Nat always says, you guys should go on it if you’re so sure,” you said even though you knew they were both right. 

  “Maybe when I’m retired,” Yelena pondered.

  “Right, that’d be a great pass time for the elderly,” you scoffed as you threw your container in the bin. “What do you do for a pass time?” You pried.

  “Drink,” Yelena shrugged.

  “Like in bars?”

  “Sure.”

  “To meet people?” You knew you were being nosey, but Yelena didn't seem to mind. 

  “It’s not what I set out to do but if it happens,” she shrugged again, her eyes staying on the screen where she laughed at someone falling off of a platform. 

  “There’s a good gay bar not far from here,” you stated, not sure where you were going with it. At that, Yelena switched her gaze to you. “I made the mistake of taking Kate once, all the poor girls thought she was on the market.” 

  “Are you?” Yelena didn’t hesitate to ask. 

  “Sure, who doesn’t need to get laid every once in a while.” The blonde hummed at this, as though it was information she was interested in. “Maybe we should go some time,” you suggested, already wanting to spend more time with Yelena. 

  “Definitely we should,” she agreed with a small smirk you didn’t quite trust. You didn’t question it, too afraid that you would like the answer too much. Instead, you settled into a comfortable silence filled only by the reality show still playing as you continued through the files, not finding anything of relevance. So far, everything you had read through were past files that Yelena had dealt with herself in the past. You were beginning to dread that everything on the device was from the past, until you found one file that referred to something happening the following week. 

  “Look at this, four widows are being sent to the brooklyn bridge next week to incept some kind of transportation vehicle.” Yelena read the file with you, scanning it for all of the major details she needed. There wasn’t much, the report was brief and vague but it was enough for Yelena to go on and enough for you to be confident that the device held more valuable information on it. But it was getting late and you had work the next day. 

  “You can stay if you want to, but I should probably get to bed,” you admitted, knowing you would regret it the following day if you didn’t and that no one deserved to deal with your cranky, sleep deprived self. 

  “Oh shit,” Yelena muttered when she noticed the time. “It’s okay, I’ve got enough intel for now and with Melina working on it too I can leave it for another day.” 

  “If you’re sure,” you said as the blonde put her jacket back on and gave a few extra scratches to Marty. 

  “Thanks for dinner, y/n,” Yelena grinned as you shook your head with a smile. 

  “Any time,” you quipped back. 

  “Yeah?” She asked somewhat hopefully. 

  “Goodnight, Yelena,” you said instead, too tired to say anything else. 

  “Goodnight, y/n,” she replied, her typically rough accent softened in the same way her smile was. She really did have a nice smile. 

  Shit, you thought. I’m kind of into her. 

*

“Where is your gun?” Yelena spun around in your desk chair as she spoke, just as she had been doing for several minutes prior. You wondered if she was going to be dizzy when she stopped. 

  “What gun?” You asked as you stared at the screen. Yelena had been coming over a few times recently to look through the seemingly endless files with you, every time able to discover valuable information on top of Melina’s own discoveries. Yelena and Kate acted on this whenever they could but widows kept appearing across the city and you didn’t seem to be any closer to discovering where, or who, they were all coming from. 

  “The gun you keep in your home,” she answered as though it was obvious. You gave her a look that said otherwise, causing Yelena to stare back blankly at you. 

  “I don’t have one,” you said simply. 

  “Why not?” She pushed. 

  “I’m not a good shot. Nat tried to teach me, Kate too, but I’m hopeless,” you admitted. Yelena tutted as she put her leg out onto your chair to stop herself spinning. 

  “I will teach you,” she declared. 

  “No thanks,” you disregarded as you pushed her foot off. It landed with a thud. 

  “I was not offering, y/n.”

  “And yet I’m still declining,” you shrugged with a grin. 

  “Declining what?” Kate asked as she reemerged from the hallway. 

  “Yelena wants to teach me to shoot.” Kate huffed a laugh. 

  “Good luck with that, she sucks.”

  “See.” You weren’t even offended by your best friend’s comments, knowing they were entirely true. 

  “I like a challenge,” Yelena stated, clearly adamant in the task. You let your eyes discreetly flicker to the blonde without moving your head from the direction of the screen and noticed the trace of a smirk on her lips. Those goddamn lips that always looked so soft and inviting and-

  “If Natasha Romanoff couldn’t teach her, she’s a lost cause,” Kate chuckled as she helped herself to the contents of your fridge. Right. Natasha. The protective big sister of the gorgeous blonde next to you who also happened to be your kind-of-mentor. What would she do if she knew the less than respectful thoughts you had about Yelena? Besides, it was more important for you to spend your time with the Russian focusing on helping the widows. 

  “We’ll see,” Yelena muttered as she got up to join Kate in the raid of your kitchen. 

*

  “Anyway, I’m going down on this girl and from what I’m hearing she hasn’t been laid in a while but then some dick comes along and taps the window!” Ava hissed as she recollected the events. You glanced around in your immediate vicinity to see if anyone could overhear your friend’s story. “Then he starts saying that we’re parked in his spot or some shit,”

  “Wait so you weren’t parked in some abandoned car park?”

  “No it was like Target or something but that’s not the point,” she continued. You shook your head at your friend’s very believable recklessness and scanned the room again for anyone who had since come closer and was surprised to see Yelena strolling through the rows of desks towards you. Ava noticed your shift in attention and looked in the same direction to the blonde. 

  “Woah,” she murmured. Though Yelena was dressed casually, she still had a striking look about her. Maybe it was the air of confidence or general natural beauty, but she was stunningly beautiful. 

  “Natasha’s still away,” you told the blonde as she came closer. 

  “I’m here for you, actually.” You would be lying if you said that hearing her say that didn’t make your heart speed up a little. 

  “You're stealing her from me?” Ava questioned with an exaggerated pout. You rolled your eyes with a smile though Yelena looked less than impressed as she eyed your coworker. 

  “Tell me the rest tomorrow, I’m sure there’ll be more to add by then anyway,” you dismissed as you stood up and grabbed your bag. 

  “It did end on a cliffhanger,” Ava admitted. “See ya later babes,” she waved as walked side by side with Yelena. 

  “Babe?” The Russian questioned with a tone you hadn’t heard before. 

  “She’s like that with everyone,” you told her. Yelena hummed. “So what’s up? Have you found another drive?” You asked, assuming that to be the only reason Yelena would pull you out of work. 

  “No, we’re going to the shooting range,” Yelena explained matter of factly. 

  “No we are not,” you said, stopping in your tracks to glare at the spy. 

  “What if a widow finds out what you’re doing and comes to kidnap you?” Yelena questioned as she crossed her arms across her chest. 

  “If history says anything then she’ll recruit me to join the organisation she works for,” you shrugged. 

  “Ha.” You met Yelena’s unimpressed stare with your own, inevitably breaking first with a dramatic sigh. 

  “Fine, if it will get you off my back.” Yelena beamed at the small victory, a sight that was totally worth the amount of self respect you were about to give up to show the blonde just how bad you were with guns. 

  You glanced at Yelena as you walked in silence, wondering what she had been doing before she came to get you. She said before that she drank in her free time but you knew she must do more than that, even if she was a workaholic like her sister. 

  “What do you actually do when you’re not fighting or planning fights?” You asked suddenly.

  “Read romance novels,” Yelena deadpanned with a straight face. 

  “Haha, really what do you do?” You pushed. 

  “Why?” She questioned with interest that matched your own.

  “Because I want to know,” you answered simply. The red room had taken away so much of the sister’s lives that Natasha had once told you it had taken her a long time to know what to do with it once she got it back. Diving into work was the easiest solution but eventually the redhead had discovered she loved rewatching old spy films to put a brighter tint on her past. But Yelena had been out for considerably less time than Natasha, bringing you to wonder if she had found what helped her yet. 

  “Why?” Yelena repeated and this time you could tell she was being sarcastic. 

  “Yelena,” you pushed with a nudge to her shoulder as you walked. 

  “I don’t know!” She insisted back. There was your answer, you thought to yourself. The blonde seemed to notice your disappointment. “Go for walks,” she said simply. You looked at her curiously, so she continued. “I’m in new places a lot so I like to explore them. Everywhere. I like finding the places that aren’t in any tourists handbooks even though I probably won’t ever see them again.” That was… actually kind of sweet. 

  “Huh,” was all you could bring yourself to say in the moment. It certainly wasn’t what you expected and yet it made absolute sense. 

  “Also I read sci-fi books,” Yelena added and you smiled. 

  “Cool,” you nodded as you reached the firing range. You followed Yelena into the room that was entirely empty of any S.H.I.E.L.D personal - granted, it was lunch hour - and went down to the booth at the end while Yelena picked up a handgun along the way. You watched as she weighed it in her hands, assessing it, and wondered how many weapons she had handled in her life. Probably more than you had seen. 

  “Show me your stance,” she instructed as she handed you the weapon. You took it tentatively and held it up with both hands, squinting your right eye to line it up with the target but the blonde stopped you. 

  “Put your elbows out a little more, you don’t need your arms straight,” she explained as she stood behind you to put your arms in the correct position. You tensed slightly when you felt her front press against your back. “And loosen your shoulders,” she continued, voice lowered as she put her hands on your shoulder blades. You took a deep breath and relaxed them as best you could with Yelena so close to you. “Legs apart a bit more.” She nudged your foot to the side. “Even if you’re aiming at someone in front of you, you have to be prepared for someone to attack you from elsewhere and you can’t lose your balance,” she explained some more. You nodded, eyes glued to the target. 

  “Safety off.”

  Click. 

  “Lower it some more, you need a target this close to be on the top.” You did so gradually. 

  “Relax,” she whispered and you most definitely did not. “Fire.” The gun shot rang through the room and you immediately recoiled as you flinched at the bang, accidentally pushing into Yelena who placed a hand to your waist to steady you.

  “Wow,” she muttered and you wanted the ground to open up and swallow you. “You are a bad shot,” she commented. You stepped away from her quickly to try and play off whatever that was. 

  “I told you,” you said as you willed away the flush you knew was on your cheeks. You put the gun down and Yelena picked it up. 

  “Watch,” she instructed sternly, sending off two shots that hit that target in the centre of the head. 

  “I didn’t see that coming,” you muttered. 

  “Try again,” she encouraged. 

  “Can we just go get lunch or something like normal people?” You huffed as you took the weapon and repeated your previous stance. You exhaled steadily and pulled the trigger, flinching at the noise again and hitting the target in the shoulder. 

  “That does hurt like a suka,” Yelena recalled. 

  “I want the story behind that,” you said immediately. 

  “Only if you hit the target in the head.”

  Twenty minutes later, you still hadn’t hit the target in the head, but agents were starting to return to the shooting range so you decided to call it a day and Yelena reluctantly agreed. “We will try again soon,” she decided as you left, making you groan. 

  “But I live in a S.H.I.E.L.D apartment, I have a dog and I’ve got like a bunch of superhero friends,” you argued. 

  “And yet I got into your apartment,” Yelena countered. 

  “Then I’ll just keep you there,” you joked. 

  “Yeah?” She had that smirk on her face again. 

  “Not like that!” You insisted as you carried on towards the building you worked in. 

  “Where are you going?” Yelena called. You turned around and saw her standing on the path leading to the gates. “I thought we were going for lunch.” You grinned and followed after her. 

~

“I need you to look something up.” You frowned at the voice that invaded your sleep, breaking through the barrier that allowed you your few hours sleep under the authority of more pressing matters. Rae shook you when it took a second longer to wake than she had the patience for.

  “What time is it?” You groaned as you took in the silhouette standing next to the bed. After rubbing the sleep from your eyes to take your girlfriend in more clearly, you noticed the rare signs of stress on her features. She was rarely stressed. Often irritated, sometimes stoic, occasionally frantic, but rarely stressed. 

  “Just get up,” she demanded as she took hold of your arm and hauled you from the bed, very nearly making you trip over your duvet in the process. You didn’t protest and instead trudged over to your computer to turn it on as Rae paced behind you. 

  It had been a week since the first search she had asked you to do and you had been hoping in that time that she wouldn’t ask again. Of course, you knew she would. Your only realistic hope was that no harm would come of the next one, though perhaps that was unrealistic too. Though it had been playing on your mind a great deal, you couldn’t come to any reasonable conclusion as to why Rae wanted information about a Hydra agent. Double agent? You weren’t sure. Granted, the people that Rae spent her time with outside of work and you were…questionable from what you had seen, but you wouldn’t accuse them of being Hydra personnel on any basis. 

  You had brought up Rae’s ‘friends’ once, back when you still felt like you got a say in each other's lives. She had been livid. She accused you of trying to isolate her, of being selfish, of being jealous. She said you had no right to judge her social life when you lacked your own. The irony of that was laughable, because she had never let you have one from the moment she met you, just a couple months after moving to the States. You told her that. That was the first time she hit you. That was the first time she reminded you that if you left her, there was no one for you to go to. 

  Rae recalled another name and you went through the steps to find a result. You hesitated before clicking on the file and if Rae noticed she didn’t say anything, perhaps assuming you were just tired. You opened the document, revealing the subject to be another Hydra agent. That time, you didn’t read the document at the same time as Rae. You got up from the chair and headed into the kitchen to get yourself a glass of water without looking back at the screen or the woman in front of it. 

 It was five am, you had to be up for work in a couple hours. You yawned and went back into the bedroom, not caring about taking the steps to log off the site when Rae was done. Your computer automatically turned off after an hour of inactivity anyway. You could worry about erasing your trail once you had had more sleep. Then again, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if you were caught and stopped. You’d come to ponder that a lot in the months to come. 

  You had almost fallen back asleep when you felt the bed dip and Rae slip under the covers. Under the impression that the file had put her in the same good mood as the last one, you moved to turn around and hold her as she so rarely let you, but instead you felt a hand press down between your shoulder blades and push you into the bed. You went to lift your head and protest, confused by the cloud of sleep around you, but another hand planted itself against the back of your head and kept your face in the pillows. It was too hard, you couldn’t breath. You squirmed and kicked out beneath Rae, knowing that only ever made things worse but couldn’t fight off the instinct to do so. 

  She let up eventually, opting to keep your head down but with your face to the side. “Shut up,” she hissed at your whine once you felt a familiar object push into you. You willed your body to adjust to the intrusion as quickly as possible, to do what it always did and turn that discomfort into pleasure at the sake of your sanity. It had to. It knew to. Because it was going to be one of those nights.