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msgexymunson · 2 years

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Rumour Part Two: Rose

Description: After hooking up with your hot neighbour, things aren't going as you had hoped. Maybe a note will turn it around for the both of you...

Warnings: NSFW, Minors DNI or I'll put you in detention, Angsty angst, but fluffy, and HELLA SMUT. Sub!fem!younger!reader x older!pierced!dom!eddie, (age gap not problematic) rough sex, oral fem receiving, praise kink, sir kink, pet names

A/N: Please read part 1 first! I'm totally feral for this version of Eddie and apparently you lot are too! Thank you for all your love and support, I really hope you enjoy this!

❤ Reblogs are what keep me alive FR. They keep Tumblr alive. If you want more smut reblog my stuff. I'll love you forever, promise.❤

4.6k words

Masterlist Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Marching home from the bar, arms crossed as a barrier against the chilly air, you huff into the night, sending out a cloud of steamy breath. Your mood at work tonight was frankly diabolical. If you were your own manager you probably would have fired yourself. Dropping glasses, snapping at customers, drifting into day dreams, you were a mess. In the end your boss told you to go home, that your head was clearly not in the game tonight; thankfully treating you better than you would have treated yourself.

Nearing the corner of your street, you stomp along, thinking about the man you couldn't get out of your head for the past six days. The man you were trying to push from your mind unsuccessfully. The man that didn't call. Eddie Munson.

After an evening of frankly mind blowing sex, he took you out on a lunch date. You ate nice food, shared a bottle of wine, and spoke about your interests. You discovered a mutual love for art, and a similar taste in music. He was soft, chatty, funny. Afterwards you had gone for a walk around the park, even held hands. For a moment you really thought you had started to connect with him. Then he'd dropped you back home, told you he was a bit busy for the next couple of days, kissed you on the cheek and disappeared into the wind.

It would have hurt less if he had just left after that night, but the date seemed to go well. The only explanation in your eyes was that he couldn't have liked you after getting to know you. The thought stabbed ice through your heart.

As you approach your building, you see a familiar figure sitting down smoking. You still your movements, trying to collect your feelings and push them down deep inside. Taking a deep breath, you slip on the blankest look you can muster and march straight to your door.

"Hey pretty girl."

No matter how much you try to mask, that gruff voice and those words just do something to you.

"Hey." You throw back, not bothering to look in his direction. You hear the creak of leather as he gets up. Desperately trying to get your keys out of your pocket, you end up dropping them on the floor. Well done. Smooth.

Eddie's closed the distance between you, reaching down to swipe the keys into a large hand. He looms over you, standing close, inches from your shaking form. The atmosphere is stifling, tension in the air laced with your anger.

"Can I have my keys please." Your gaze firmly locked away from him.

Eddie hands them over, but grabs your small hand in his when you try to pull away.

"Can you look at me, sweet thing?" His other hand reaches for your chin to pull your gaze towards him, rough fingers coaxing you. Struggling to resist him when he's in the very air you breathe, you let your eyes meet his.

"Hey, I'm sorry if I upset you, I've just been-"

"-really busy? Yeah." Your tone has venom, it coats each word, leaving your mouth with a bitter taste.

"Look I'm sorry, do you wanna-"

"I've got to go Eddie. I'm super busy." You snatch you hand away from his and take your front door key, jamming it into the lock. Eddie steps back, arms up, giving you space. It takes everything you have not to turn around when you slam the door behind you.

You lean against the door, shaking, biting back the tears that are begging to roll down your cheeks. Hot and flustered, you do your best to calm down and just breathe. You slide your back down the door and sit on the floor with your head in your hands. This is stupid.

Maybe you should have let him explain. What explanation could there be though, after he made you feel like that, then disappeared into the mist?

Lifting your head weakly, you notice a piece of paper folded in half on the welcome mat, seemingly shoved under your door. Curious, you pick it up and open it. It's from him.

Underneath the hastily scrawled note is the most beautiful pencil drawing of a rose you think you've ever seen. It almost looks like you could pluck it off the paper. The detail is simply breath taking; there's even shining dew drops on the velvety looking petals. You're half expecting a floral sweet scent to roll off of it.

Hey sweet thing, sorry I've not called. You must be at work. Knock when you get this.

E.M x

p.s. You said you like roses, I drew this for you.

Your hand flies to your mouth, shocked at the sheer beauty and intricacy of it. What's more, is that you're not even sure you remember when you told him roses were your favourite flower. It can't have been recently.

Shame drips down your throat and into your gut at how you'd greeted him earlier. Determined to resolve this before it goes any further you stand up and make your way back outside. Eddie's chair is empty. Taking a deep breath, you steel your nerves, walk across the courtyard and knock on his door.

It swings open a crack, and then all the way. Eddie stands in the doorway shirtless, tattoos strewn across his chest, messy hair loose and wild. His sweat pants are hanging low on his hips, cut groin and hip bones on display, his dark thatch of hair leading down drawing your eye. You take a shaky breath in; realising you're staring, your eyes snap up to meet his.

He looks from your face, down to your hand still gripping his drawing.

"So, you got my note huh." Flashing you a small smile.

Throwing your arms around his neck you kiss him hard. He staggers, taken aback by the gesture, but only for a moment. Then his hand is on your lower back, the other in your hair, as his tongue flicks across your bottom lip begging. You submit, his probing tongue dipping deep into your mouth, saying everything his note did not. You feel the steel of his piercing rub against your tongue, massaging in the kiss. Pressing up against him it's impossible to ignore the growing bulge in his sweat pants forced against your beating core.

You both break from the kiss, eyes seeking each others.

"I'm sorry-"

You laugh, speaking in unison. He presses hot, hard kisses to your lips, tongue running down your neck, beginning to bite and suck. Moaning, your nails dig into his back.

Eddie breaks away from you, leaving you pouting, neck stretching towards his perfect mouth, chasing the feeling.

"Listen, as much as this is incredible, can I talk to you?"

Taking gasping breaths you try and steady yourself.

"Yeah, sure." Still focusing on pacifying your breathing.

He takes your arm and leads you inside, gesturing to the couch. Taking a seat you glance around the room. It's a mess; not exactly dirty but there's things everywhere. Several guitars and amps lean haphazardly on the walls. A tower of books threatens to spill over the side of the coffee table. A few empty beer bottles sit in various states on the counter top. There's a desk, covered in writing and drawing implements, more books open around paper pads, you assume for reference purposes. You don't see many photographs around which seems strange to you. The only framed picture on the wall is a younger Eddie with an older man, balding in a checked shirt, maybe his father? There's another frame on the window ledge which you can't make out much detail from, looks like a crowd of teenage boys.

Eddie sits beside you, hand resting on your knee. When he speaks his voice is brimming with emotion, something you're entirely unready for.

"Listen, I just wanted to explain. I really like you. It's just," he pauses, staring at the corner of the room, lips pressed together, "I'm not used to this. Any of this. I'm not exactly seen as boyfriend material, you know?" He laughs softly at that, eyes seeking yours. You nudge him with your hand, willing him to continue, fingers tracing encouraging circles on his thigh.

"People see me as a one and dump. I've gotten used to it, not many wanted me my whole damn life. Meeting you, and getting along, outside of sex, I just- I was scared."

His doe eyes meet yours and you melt. The strong, confident man has melted away, exposing the soft, tender boy in front of you.

Clambering onto his lap, you stroke his stubbly cheek.

"I don't see you like that." Locking eyes for a second, you lean in to press a soft kiss to his full lips. His eyes close, kissing you back gently, mouths moving in sync. His hands stroke delicately down your sides, so much so that you twitch.

"Sorry, that tickles," you breathe out, wiggling away from his attention.

"Oh, ticklish eh?" He grins deviously, fingers tracing agonising patterns in your sides.

You giggle, bucking out your hips, trying to escape from the feeling. Reaching out your own fingers you dig into his sides trying to get your own back.

"Oh sweet thing you're really in for it now!" Before you can understand what's happening you're on the floor, Eddie pinioning you to the carpet. Hands held above your head, his whole body weight is keeping you in place.

"OK you win, please sir let me go!" You tease.

Eddie's irises shrink back, pupils blown, predatory gaze roaming over your features.

"Oh now that's not fair pretty girl." He bends forward, large hand encompassing your wrists, kissing and suckling at your exposed flesh.

It takes a second, but then it hits you.

"Sir please."

Eddie groans into your neck; his hard length pressing forcefully into your core.

For confirmation, you cant help but play into it further.

"Oh please, please Sir, please let me go!" Smirking, bucking into the air.

The noise that leaves Eddie's throat is gravelly and animalistic, grinding into you with abandon, hand holding you tight by the wrists. Your giggles have transformed into moans, pulse travelling to your heat.

His hand roams from your wrists to pull your top over your head, exposing your bare chest. Eddie wastes no further time in licking down to your exposed breasts, tongue trailing to your nipples.

"I thought you were a good girl, sweet thing," and he takes one of your nipples into his mouth. The swirl of his thick tongue around your sensitive buds makes you wail, hips humping up to meet his. He sucks onto your exposed nipples hard, the feeling sending bolts of arousal through your chest, massing in your stomach.

"Please Eddie." All confidence stripped from you now that you're squirming beneath him, rough stubble from his chin abrading your delicate skin.

Unlatching from your chest he draws level with your face. The dark, steely glint in his eyes makes your cunt throb. His breath fans across your face; the smell of Eddie's skin permeating all of your senses.

"That's not what you called me before."

A rugged hand enwraps your neck, squeezing softly at the sides, almost a threat. The rough touch makes you whimper. He's not constricting your airway, just letting you know whose in charge. As if there was any doubt.

"Please sir."

His eyes close as he grunts, suddenly pulling off of you. He rips the fastenings of your jeans open with an unruliness that has your cunt clenching, attempting to drag them off your legs along with your underwear. Eddie realises too late you've still got your shoes on and you huff a laugh at his obvious frustration. The laugh dies in your throat however when he uses brute force to pull your trainers off your feet, ignoring the laces. You whine at the display of strength, arousal gripping you so tightly that you feel it in your bones.

Laying on the carpet fully nude under his powerful gaze, you attempt to shy away but Eddie stops you immediately with a simple wave of his hand. He rubs at your sides, taking a moment to stare at your naked form shamelessly. You don't think anyone has ever looked at you this way, with such need, wanting you this hard.

"You're really fuckin' beautiful, you know that?"

You flush at the attention, cheeks burning. His fingers smooth down to your slit, groaning when he feels how wet you are.

Without warning he flips you over, pulling a shocked yelp from you. Rough hands grab your hips, manhandling you exactly where he wants you, dragging your ass closer to him.

You jump slightly at the first contact of his swollen cock, feeling the rub of steel from his piercing drag back and forth over your folds collecting your slick.

"You ready sweet thing?"

"Mmm please-"

He starts pushing into you and you gasp; you'd nearly forgotten how big he was. The push into you continues, his girth making you bite your lip, dragging against your slick walls. He wholly sheathes himself in you and you stretch around him, filling you completely; heart, soul and cunt, belonging to him.

Eddie's warm, firm hand strokes down your spine, coming to rest on your hip, thumbs rubbing into the doughy flesh, fingers gripping possessively.

He bends over you, messy hair trailing tickles on your shoulder, gruff whisper in your ear.

"You ok sweet thing?"

Your cunt is already twitching, zaps of pleasure dancing through your insides at each flutter of your walls.

Breathlessly you manage "yes, please, fuck me sir."

Eddie growls "fuck."

He ploughs into you, setting a gut-wrenching pace, slick sex sounds slapping through the apartment. Your arm grazes the coffee table and a pile of books tumbles down. You see a flash of a dragon on the cover of one. The carpet digs into your palms and knees.

"Fuckin' hell sweets, so tight, fuck."

A flash flood of passion flows through you, expunging any discomfort at his size.

Brutal moans blossom from deep in your chest, long and drawn out, shaking in pitch from each thrust of Eddie's hips. You feel Eddie's hard member persistently hitting deep inside, hard ball of metal from his dick piercing amplifying every move. Your high hits you quickly and without warning, a lightning bolt of pleasure rocketing out of the pit of your stomach, shocking through your entire body. A tsunami of slick arousal rushing from your cunt, nearly pushing out his sizable length from sheer force.

Eddie's groans are guttural, bestial in nature. He roughly pulls you bodily towards him until your back is flush with his sweating heaving chest, pecs flexing. One hand remains digging into your hip continuing his forceful pace, other hand pulling up to your chin, holding your head firmly in place whilst he babbles filth in your ear, making your walls tremble around him.

"Fuck, calling me sir. My good girl's dirty isn't she? My good filthy girl, fuckin' soaking me. Yeah? Pretty little cunt soaking me, oh fuck-"

His thrusts flounder briefly, his climax hitting him harshly, coming deep inside you with a brutish grunt.

Both of his arms wrap around your form, sweating bodies impossibly close, panting, coming back down to earth together. Smooth lips and rough stubble press against your cheek.

You move to pull away from him and the pain in your knees hits you suddenly, buckling to the floor with a rush of air from your lungs. Laying on the floor, boneless and weak, but giggling.

"Shit you ok sweets?" Eddie hovers over your chuckling body.

"Yeah, just my knees are fucked."

"Sorry, probably should have taken you to the bedroom huh." He looks embarrassed, hand stroking the back of his neck.

Scooping you up in his strong arms he places you on the sofa. He strides off, returning with a damp cloth. Tenderly cleaning your core, he moves his attention to your knees.

"How are they now?" Eyes wandering, examining, brimming with concern. The look makes you melt.

"Apart from wicked carpet burn, fine. I think I'll live" chuckling at your own words you throw your arms around his neck, pulling him towards you to deliver a sweet kiss. He pulls himself up to sit on the edge of the sofa and leans down over you, forehead pressed to yours.

"So, am I forgiven?" Smiling with that cocky look of his.

You pretend to think for a moment.

"I suppose. But don't do it again."

"Wouldn't dream of it pretty girl."

********************

It's a couple of weeks later and you're standing in the tattoo shop where Eddie works, marvelling at the artwork on the walls. You hear the incessant sound of a tattoo machine and some generic rock radio playing in the background, other artists busying themselves with their work.

"You sure about this sweet thing?"

"Yeah I'm sure," you say shyly back, nerves getting the best of you.

"Do you see anything you like? Those ones over there are mine, I've got my portfolio too if you wanna-"

"I've already got a design Eddie."

He frowns, clearly not wanting to create someone else's art on your skin. Your cheeks flush, and you pull a piece of paper out of your pocket and wordlessly hand it to him.

It's his note, the beautiful drawing of a rose almost hovering off the paper. The reason you're dating.

Eddie seems taken aback, staring at his drawing as if he were looking at it for the first time.

"Oh pretty girl, are you sure?"

"Yes I'm sure. Just like that please, it's perfect." You smile at him, your own eyes betrayed your feelings, glossing over softly.

Smiling back at you, you gaze at each other for a moment.

Eddie coughs and looks away. "You want this in black and grey, or colour?"

"Hmm colour I think would be best."

"And where are we thinking?"

You point to next to your hip bone over your skirt, slightly lower. Eddie glances at the area and runs his tongue over his top lip, steel ball glinting.

"You know, that's a pretty sensitive area. Are you sure that's where you want it?"

You nod, eyes meeting his.

"Ok let's get upstairs, it's a bit more, private."

Leading you to the empty upstairs and across to his workstation, you're pleasantly surprised at how clean and tidy it is. You sit down in the big leather chair whilst Eddie sorts out the stencil and gets the inks ready.

"Ok so do you wanna just pull your skirt down a little or-"

You flip it up instead, given where you wanted it, it seems easier. Eddie's eyes are transfixed on your baby blue panties.

"Eddie..."

"Yeah, shit sorry, ok right here, yeah?" He traces a gloved finger where you pointed. You nod and he pulls the hem of your underwear slightly out of the way, kissing your hip bone.

He preps the area, lays the stencil down and turns the tattoo machine on. The noise buzzes through your jangling nerves making you tense up involuntarily. Eddie strokes your thigh, firm hand coming to rest.

"You gotta relax, my good girl, or its gonna hurt more."

You huff a laugh at the familiar phrase.

"Hmm I think you've said that before, about something else."

Eddie's eyes sparkle impishly at the memory. "Well I was right, wasn't I?"

He leans over to your face, turning the machine off for a second, and whispers, "are you gonna be a good girl for me?"

"Eddie, I- fuck, don't do that in public!"

He laughs wickedly, flicking the machine back on.

"Just stay still sweet thing, I'm starting now, 'kay?"

When the needle finally hits your flesh you're pleasantly surprised. Oh it hurts, certainly, but not as much as the buzzing made you think it would. It was more annoying than anything, a persistent scratch.

"You good sweets?"

"Yeah that's fine."

He leans over you, using his left hand to steady himself high up on your thigh. Heat is pouring off him, the grip of his fingers occasionally making you want to squirm. You're sure you're getting wetter by the second just by being in close proximity to him. There's something about him concentrating the way he was, entirely oblivious to the world and in his element, that made your heart swell.

Each word of encouragement from him, each check in was making your cunt throb, pulse in your core threatening to make you twitch under him.

"Sitting so still, doing so good for me."

"Atta girl, you taking the pain ok?"

"My sweet thing, doing such a great job."

When the outline is complete, he turns off the machine to check in yet again and you feel like you're ready to explode into a horny mist.

"Sitting so well for me pretty girl. Do you need a break?"

"No I'm good," you manage breathily. His eyebrows raise, taking in your flushed cheeks and wide glassy eyes.

'Are you enjoying this sweets?" Smirking, his eyes flit from your face to your baby blue underwear, smiling wider when he eyes the growing wet patch.

"I don't know, it's just, you're really close to, you know, there," you gesture downwards, flushing even further, "but you're not touching me and you keep praising me and-"

"Well you're taking it so well, being such a good girl for me, I've got to let you know right?" He bites his lip, flashing his teeth deviously.

"Eddie" You squirm in your seat, heat of his gaze too much to take. To your surprise, embarrassed, hot tears are starting to form in your eyes, unable to process so much praise and feeling all at once.

"Shush shush, poor sweet girl, don't cry. We've got the shading to do and then I'll reward you." He winks.

You nod dumbly, wiping tears from your eyes; a subby mess on his words alone.

Eddie gets to work on the colouring and shading, constant praises falling from his perfect lips.

You space out, endless accolades making your head fuzzy, taking you away from the perpetual pain. Little by little the background noises disappear, the radio downstairs switches off and the shop sounds empty.

You hear a disembodied voice from the vicinity of the doorway.

"Eds, I'm leaving now, lock up when you're done!"

"No worries bud!" Eddie shouts back, continuing to focus on the red of the rose.

Pain starts to mount again, relentless rasping of the needle starting to take its toll. You wince, doing your best not to tense. Eddie switches to white for the highlights and you hiss at the touch of the needle.

"Ok pretty girl, I know, nearly done I promise."

You nod, hands balled into little fists.

Finally after what seems like an age of little touch ups Eddie declares he is finished. He helps you up onto wobbly legs whilst you hold your skirt up awkwardly and waddle over to the mirror.

Gawping at your new ink, you gasp in astonishment. It's as if he'd plucked a rose at dawn, sprinkled with morning dew, and laid it carefully on your hip.

"Eddie, its perfect, it's incredible, honestly. Thank you." You can barely believe its real. Turning to Eddie you give him a kiss on his lips, soft and lingering.

"No problem pretty girl. Lay back down lemme wrap it for you."

Hopping back onto the leather chair, you lay back on your elbows, watching him cover your new tattoo with plastic wrap and surgical tape.

"Thank you again, I love it. Shall we go?"

"Oh sweet thing, you're not going anywhere."

You look at him in confusion. He takes his gloves off, hungry eyes transfixed on your heat.

"I've sat here, inches away from this pretty pussy, looking at this cute little wet patch and I can't take it anymore. I can fuckin' smell you sweetheart, it's not fair."

A flush blooms over the apples of your cheeks, thighs clenching at his filthy words.

"Scoot down for me."

You wiggle your hips until you're at the edge of the reclined seat, skirt bunching up in the process. Eddie kneels before you and peels your underwear off, carefully avoiding your new ink. He throws one of your legs over his shoulder, leaving the hip with the tattoo alone.

"Now I'm gonna be gentle and you can't move, ok? Don't want you smudging." He winks at his joke and starts pressing delicate kisses over your pussy, hot breath tickling you. His tongue pushes into your folds so slowly, running up and down with a languid place. You moan and shudder at the feeling, intensity magnified by how on edge you'd been, waiting for this for hours. Every agonisingly slow movement sent tingles to your core, warmth spreading to the tips of your toes.

High pitched mewls and whines fill the room when Eddie turns his attention to your clit, teasing it gently with his tongue stud, hard nub sending thrilling tendrils of pleasure deep inside you.

"Eddie, fuck that's so good." You whisper, eyes fluttering shut.

Eddie hums into you, continuing to make out lazily with your cunt, his own moans swallowed up by your heat.

Impossible, unimaginable feeling floods your system; it was as if every nerve was singing, blending together into a choir of pleasure. The intensity, the passion, the emotion he was conveying between your legs was pushing you to a precipice, looking down at your potential release from a dizzying height.

It was all too much. Tears fall down your soft cheeks, utterly caught up in so much feeling.

"Eddie, I can't, its, it's too much-"

Hot breath on your cunt, "it's ok, sweet thing, I've got you, let go."

He takes your clit in between his lips and kisses, and kisses, and kisses. Pressing his tongue to it one final time he suckles softly and pushes you over that edge.

Stars collide. Your release meanders through your very soul, ripping away any semblance of breath, clenching and coming with a silent cry, tears still falling. It flows, collects itself and continues, pleasure in perpetuity, leaving no part of you untouched by its warmth. The feeling finally dissipates, leaving you breathless, thoughtless.

You're not sure how long it took for you to return to yourself, but when you do Eddie's pressing the softest kisses to your cheek, lips, nose, even your eyelids. Your eyes flutter open, wet and glossy, and full of feeling for the man in front of you.

"Hey pretty girl."

"Hey baby." You smile softly.

He grins right back; its the first time you've called him a pet name.

"Stay at mine tonight?"

"I might have to, pretty sure that was the best orgasm I've ever had. I may need a wheelchair."

He laughs, cocky grin firmly in place. "I could carry you to the car if its that bad..."

"I'll manage I'm sure." You get up, wobbly as a baby deer but upright. He steadies you, strange look in his you're not used to.

"Eddie, can you pass me my underwear?"

"What underwear?" He's trying to pull a serious face but his mischievous eyes betray him.

"Eddie!" You hit him on the arm. He just laughs in response.

You huff, and smile, and squeal inside at the sheer joy of the moment.

Masterlist

❤ If you want to be added to my tag list please comment/reblog and say so sweet thing (tag list in comments as it's grown arms and legs) ❤

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blueparadis · 1 year

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❝ HAUNTED ❞ + XAVIER THORPE !

+. CWs —» f!reader, switch!reader, outcast!reader, fluff, she/her pronouns, mutual pining, sexual tension, family drama, flirting, manipulation, mentions of abuse, blood, wounds & therapy, flashbacks in italics, supernatural themes ; explicit smut, s & d dynamics, bottom-dom!xavier, cowgirl position; word count-3.5k

+. PRECIS —» Xavier Thorpe has finally found the girl of his dreams after being haunted by her.

+. NOTES —» this is for my beloved sister @zoraedits ’s brainrot contribution.she won't stop making edits on him. && I'm tagging @orchid3a cuz i luv u

you can browse more of my works here. || also available in AO(III). reblogs and comments are very much appreciated.

feel free to send in thirsts and suggestions for this show, Wednesday. This is my first time writing for shows like this; my main fandom spectrum is animanga but I do hope this was a good read for ya’all as much as I enjoyed writing it. <3.

The table calendar was full of red inks all over, dirt sedimented on the sketchbook, and the pencils laid in the case in absolute solitude. Xavier looked at the calendar kept on his desk near his bed in all despondency and a heavy sigh escaped from his lips. It has been days since he stepped into his studio, have not touched his art accessories for almost a month. One thing was for sure, he was plagued by visions in his dreams but this time it was nothing demising.

This time his sketchbooks were not filled by a monster, this time he was not afraid to draw rather he was drawn to it; part of him was stoked while sketching while a part of him was reluctant to draw the whole picture. He had spent countless sleepless nights before, not resorting to sleeping as he was threatened by nightmares. And now his sleep was peaceful as if entering into the realm of dreamland.

Xavier was sure that his mind was captured by a girl who came to visit him in his sleep, never showing her face, only showing herself in bits and pieces. He had spent his childhood receiving showers of praise for his talent for drawing but the origin was never happy. Of course, he enjoyed it and liked to show off his talent for art but secretly he wished his power would vanish into oblivion, for it was never pleasant.

People say that the art of someone reflects one’s persona, one’s raw feelings but Xavier always begged to differ since those memories, those incidents were never his. There always had been a wave of remorse that washed over him after he stepped out of his art studio since the praises he received never belonged to him.

Many were astoundingly taken aback by his knack for drawing and suggested he pursue art, to be a renowned artist but he knew he would lose all the glory once he stopped having those dreams. Moreover, he did not always have such dreams so the possibility of waking up one day and being unable to paint and as a result, staring at a blank canvas scared him to death. Heck! He even considered going to Doctor Kinbott so that his sanity would not be hanging by thread.

For the last couple of weeks, he has been dreaming of odd landscapes. Xavier had never seen them in his life yet he saw how the dusky crimson hue smothered the snowy mountain ranges, how the clouds gathered before the arrival of a rainstorm, how the birds sang songs and all the owes and pangs of nature. One thing he could conclude from those dreams was that whoever it belonged to was a chaser of freedom, that is, was a soarer of the sky.

Xavier had not told anyone about his dreams, nor put them on paper to ease his mind. What would he tell? What would he draw? Last night was particularly odd concerning the regular pattern of his dreams. He dreamt of falling from a high cliff into the water and a broken wing. When he woke up, he was all soaked, even his bed, and his olfactory senses did not miss the subtle scent of stagnant water. He was breathing rashly as if he was the one who drowned as if he was the one to fall.

He closed his eyes and tried to recapitulate his dream, searching for a mark, searching for a recognizable feature, searching for something, anything, anything at all. His desperation knew no bounds when left his dorm and rushed into his studio in the middle of the night since somewhere at the corner of his hopeless heart he knew he found one, a ray of hope.

A lot of crumbled papers surrounded Xavier as he tried accumulating the pieces from his puzzled mind. Around two o’clock he left his studio on his bicycle, the paper where he drew tucked in his pocket. He was sure he had witnessed the scenery before unlike the others. When he finally reached the top of the highland, he witnessed the view from his most recent dream.

The only thing that engulfed his presence was the sound of the waterfall echoing through the woods. He noticed a pond nearby and an adjacent high plateau near it. It was higher from where he was standing. After looking around for a few minutes he figured that there was no way to go there unless one swam through the stream or flew toward it.

On his way back, he felt happy, he felt sane. At least he had proof of the existence of a creature that haunted him, even in his wake. Xavier showered before going to bed just to clear his head before a good night's sleep. He kept a white feather as a bookmark in his sketch pad while a smile smothered his face. He was right. He was haunted by a fairy-like creature.

“Two cappuccinos”, Xavier mumbled as he went back to the counter at Weathervane. It was another event where all the students of Nevermore set foot into the world of normies to carry on the ties between two polar opposite worlds. But no matter how much one tried, the other always tried to retaliate. Their relationship was always on a tightrope, it could snap at any moment. And it certainly did.

“And you did not bother to tell me about this. . .”, Principal Weems trailed off as she left her seat, walked past her desk, and inclined against it, “until everyone in town became aware of it.”

“I thought I was going to be called insane or bullied. Last time I told something about my dreams, I found myself behind the bars.”, he responded, keeping his eye on the ground. Principal Weems exhaled grudgingly. She had no grounds to punish this boy since he was not entirely wrong. Hence, Xavier was dismissed with mere detention.

Xavier was forbidden from the school campus for a week. Everyone felt sorry for him, in his situation but secretly he could not be happier because he had all the time to draw, sketch, paint and think — and it was all about her, y/n.

That day at the café, Xavier was the sole witness of a crime. It happened so quickly, so fast that all she could do was succumb to her fate. A man was standing near the corner of the kitchen with his back facing Xavier. Xavier was not supposed to be here but he had to fetch some ingredients for making pastries and cupcakes.

As the man turned around, Xavier saw a bloodied butcher's knife in his hand. Near his feet lay a girl with a bloodied back the blood quickly spread all over her blouse. She stood motionless, like a statue. The eye contact was merely for two seconds and he immediately smashed the sugar jar on his head, distracting him, to tackle her out of the way.

The other townies turned up for help. Not all people in the world came to be cruel and heartless. All Xavier did was contact Principal Weems so that she could swiftly take care of this matter, which she had to otherwise the reputation of the Nevermore Academy would be in danger. The girl was taken to a nearby hospital.

Y/n L/n was her name. After the untimely death of her parents, she was raised by her uncle, by a normal family. Naturally, when she began to bloom, she was forced to be normal. One would think she tried to run, tried to hide or fight but Alas! none was the case for this matter. She felt indebted to her uncle and his family, for taking care of her, aiding her upbringing, fulfilling the role of parents, and hence helping her to be normal. But Xavier's presence on that day turned her life upside down. She was now a student at Nevermore Academy, funded by Principal Weems’ study forum.

After you recovered within a week, the first thing that dawned on you was to meet him, Xavier, the ‘ hero ’ of your life. You knocked on the door of his studio and waited for a while. There was no answer for a few minutes and when you finally made up your mind to leave, Xavier showed up. He was in his casuals with a teeth-flashing grin on his face.

“How’re you, y/n? The last time I saw you, you were in a hospital bed and now you’re here. in front of me.”, Xavier danced on his toes as he walked into his studio. You followed him and the moment you stepped into his studio you were taken all in awe. The room was filled with artboards, canvases, and sketch supplies, and everything reflected you. Indeed, y/n did not come here to be thankful for what he did since she was not. She was not happy with how her life seemed so devoid of any family. Her uncle was the last of her family and now he is gone. All because of him, Xavier.

“You look better than the last time I saw you.”, Xavier added as he felt the silence between the two of you deafening. You swallowed hard as he tried to ease the tense ambiance thinking how rude of him to remind you of the very wound he was responsible for. There was a desk with a closed sketch pad that caught your attention.

“Your drawings are very beautiful.”, you pitched in opening it and your heart dropped at the sight of your feather that was kept safely in between those rusty pages. A short gasp escaped your lips as the whirlwind of your life hit you.

Xavier was standing behind you, close to your shivering body. “They are all about you.”, a low whisper before he extended his hand to remove the veil from the canvas. The cloth dropped at your feet revealing every bit of dreary in you that you always wanted to hide. You hated how he could see through your pangs and pathos, you hated how he could and would have eradicated all of it, even if it meant being burnt by it. You swiftly tackled out of his towering frame, feeling naked even though you were more dressed than him.

“Stay away from me. You shouldn’t come near me.”, Surprise took Xavier in all proportions. His eyebrows became congested as you continued. “I’m grateful that you saved me but do not do that again, ever.” With that, you walked out of his studio but a firm grip on your wrist kept you from running away anymore.

“Listen, I’m being haunted by you, your pain, your emotions, and everything you feel for the past few months, and all you could say to me was to stay away from you… not even a proper thank you.”, His breath hit your lips as he drew in a sharp breath before his amber eyes landed on you, your shaky lips and pale eyes.

Embarrassment rushed into your cheeks and you pushed him lightly uttering, “Stay away” with a little glare to ward him off but when you vanished out of his sight he was not dejected, not at all. Sure, he was conflicted but the way you told him to stay away whereas your body spoke otherwise made him relish the chase that has haunted him for months now.

They say one can only save people only if one wants to be saved. You neither needed help nor saving but you could see why Xavier begged to differ, wanted to be the odd one out, and craved the crown from saving you from your only family. You always had been a rebel since your childhood, going against the flow of the stream. Somewhere in the corner of your heart, you knew you were different, you would be different.

It was the end of June when you first felt your body ache, back arch, muscles cramping excruciatingly as if someone was poking needles in your skin. Your arms clung to your body as your back bled for the first time. The wailing of such lethal agony submerged amidst the sound of rain as two enormous wings grew with lustrous hues of carmine and amber. Your breathing became regular again, your body stopped hurting as the wings flapped open involuntarily. Every mark, scar, and wound on your body since you were a child began to heal, all by themselves.

Everyone rejoiced when you went through the family ritual and stood in front of your clan as the last phoenix of your bloodline. It was a miracle that a phoenix had been born in the bloodline but just like with blessings it came with a massive price. You were a healer and a destroyer at the same time. Somewhere something has to die to keep you alive, again and again. Every time you were wounded or hurt, your mother had to lose some of her life until she became lifeless, forever. But the family oracle told your father that it is a part of the process, part of a phoenix's journey that every one of their loved ones had to sacrifice in one way or another.

Your father just had a miraculous idea to save you and himself from the bottomless pit of despondency and mutual hatred lurking in his heart because of you. He volunteered to sacrifice himself even if that was against his will. The oracle seemed to be unsure about the idea, saying that the cycle might shorten but not cease. But your father was right, the cycle did cease and you became aware of it when your uncle tried to chop off your wings, uprooting the evil once and for all, and no one in your family was harmed. Still, unfortunately, you were under the radar of an outcast, Xavier Thorpe. ‘What would happen if someone not from your bloodline were to sacrifice? What would happen to your mate if they were not an outcast? What would. . . thoughts would not cease to bombard your mind until a knock disrupted your trail of thoughts.

You lifted your eyes for a glance only to find Xavier inclining against the bookshelf with a saccharine smile on his face. Your stomach turned at the sight of him. ‘How can a person be so forgiving?’ but it seems that he is rather forgetful than forgiving. He picked up a random book from the shelf and sat in front of you.

“You’re hurt. . .”, you murmured to which he responded, “more than you think . . .” while turning the pages of the book and occasionally stealing glances from you. You rolled your eyes and leaned towards the table eyeing his hands that had a lot of scratches. It was probably from a silly fight with other boys, maybe the normies; for him, it was just a scratch yet for you it was an opportunity to apologize for the other day.

“Give me your hand.” As you extended yours, Xavier's reflexively recoiled under the desk. “I’ve no intention of harming you.”, you uttered touching the palm of his other hand that was still on the desk. “Besides, I’m just clearing my debts.”

“Um-hm.”

You inhaled sharply before you flapped those lustrous enormous wings to heal with him, his wounds. Your wings glowed for almost a minute and the hand that was hurt was healed which he was hiding under the desk. It is impressive how Xavier hurt the very hand that can create masterpieces. What a clutz! He interlaces his fingers with yours as he murmured, “A touch . . . is all you need.”

You begrudgingly pulled your hand away standing up and yelling whisperingly, “stop it. stop this. . . and don’t come near me.” With that, you grabbed your book and went towards the exit of the library. Xavier sat like a child who would mourn for the broken toy rather than demand anew.

“Wait.”, Xavier followed you. He kept yelling in the middle of the corridor, “Y/n. wait.”

“Your wings.”, you finally turned your head but not without letting out a sigh of annoyance. “You’re hurt. . .bleeding” and that is when fear crawled underneath the skin.

“I never bleed.”, you retorted.

“And, I never lie.”

If it were someone else, you would have shooed them away. But this was Xavier, who saved you from an inevitable, to whom you owed nothing but the truth. Even though you tried to heal yourself you could not, perhaps because you healed someone and that too for the first time.

Xavier might be persistent but he was not dull. It didn't take him long to connect the dots and hence you had to do the very thing you wanted to avert from the first place. His room was not tidy but not neat and clean either. With Rowan gone he has the room all to himself. You wanted to go to the infirmary, but there wasn't anyone available. Besides, with all the mess you are in you didn't want to risk it.

“I promise I'll behave.”, he said, swinging his hands up in the air in a form of surrender. That made you smile a little as you turned around so that he could tend to the wound. He unzipped your dress and carefully tucked it along your waistline without harming the feathers. Even though you had your camisole on, you still felt naked. His fingers brushed against your skin. It was ice cold. You had to hold your breath as he dressed the wound.

Xavier noticed how your shoulder blades had been marked. He grazed his fingers over the part from where your wings grew that made you instantly shriek and move away from him.

“Are you done?”, you asked, surprise and embarrassment coursing through your skin. Your upper body was barely clad, nothing but an unhooked bra.

“No.”, and within a blink, his lips were already on yours. You could taste the longing and desperation with each suck. Your hands curled around his nape as his hands got rid of the minimal clothing from your upper body. “First time?”, he asked as he moved away leaving you breathless yet craving for more.

“Why? You care?”, you blurted out stepping out of your dress. Xavier eyed you from up and down. You did not flinch but rather smiled as you noticed his astonished face. You had nothing on but just the underwear.

“I do.”, one of his eyebrows jumped as he knelt near you. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”, he murmured grabbing your calf muscles and kissing your femininity over the cloth. He took a glance before tucking the hem of the panty in between his fingers and undid it. Your hand reflexively went over his head as he kissed your entrance, lapping over your pussy lips that made you suck in a sharp breath. He sucked on your skin, followed by a feeble bite into your inner thighs.

“AH!”, you winced pausing his ministrations. “Don’t you taste divine?”, he whispered kissing your lips, wetting them with the blend of his saliva and your slick. He was too dressed. You cocked an eyebrow at him and he took the hint. You co-operated as he became almost naked, and was back up even though you wanted him to continue.

“You won’t hurt me. worry for yourself.”, you said as you felt his hands palming your cheeks a little too long than they should. His hands traveled back to your entrance and you moaned under his slight touch.

“What? Never played with yourself?”, he added that surely turning the cogs in your head. You pushed him onto the bed, sitting on him struggling to take his cock in and he was not even helping. All he did was watch you let out whimpers of frustration as you lazily glided on his cock. He rested himself on his elbows saying, “Look at me.” And as you did, his fingers dig into your plush ass cheeks slowly adjusting you at a proper angle and stretching you. You kissed him so break the eye contact that made you feel naked, even though you were. Both of you jolted as you could feel his cock inside you.

His hands clamped around your waist as you bobbed on him, with greater force and broader strokes but slow. With each sloppy hit you felt his cock twitch inside you; your hands desperately roamed all over your body, heat bubbling as you could feel your body tensing, picking up the pace he was setting you in, and the orgasm lurking underneath. You can tell; a few more strokes and you would cum so easily.

He can feel it too. Xavier winced as he felt you clenching around his cock. His legs folded to support your back while your hands flew to his shoulder blades, his knuckles turning white, his grip growing stronger around your waist and you came right away, back arching and your wings flapping open involuntarily, eyes rolling white relishing the high as your thighs squeezed in.

With your breathing rash and heavy, you felt all mushy in the head and so was he. Xavier could have sworn that he has not seen anything more beautiful than this, than you sitting on him with his cock buried inside you; your skin glistening in sweat with your gorgeous wings at the display.

As soon as Xavier’s breath relaxed a bit he pulled you into his embrace for a kiss. He could not help it, you were too beautiful to look at. Besides, he was not done, not yet.

—

by @blueparadis

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emsgoodthinkin · 7 months

Text

18+

“Oh.. hell yea baby bounce on it”

You and Steve have been together for 5 months now. Met in college, specifically art class, he was forced to take an elective, anything for him to graduate. That’s when he saw you in the middle of the room.. naked. Well kinda, there was a long white sheet wrapped around you. Figure drawing was that days subject.

You seemed happy? Not at all flustered having all eyes on you, Steve was a bit intimidated, not only because of how beautiful you looked and all, but everything about you made the whole room glow. And made the bulge in his pants grow.

After class he was the last one out, he wanted to talk to you, little were you aware he was stuck behind in the room; that’s when you dropped the sheet to put your clothes back on. You both screamed in sync and he scrambled out of the door faster than you could’ve blinked.

Later that afternoon, you seen him in the library and came up to him to talk about the book he was reading. He was surprised you didn’t mention the incident, and since then you two hit it off.

He knew you were a virgin, so heavy make out sessions, mutual masturbation and lots of oral was the base of your guys relationship.

You woke up, extremely needy and horny. No vibrator or dildo could sedate your craving other than Steve. He wanted to take his time with you, telling you that you’ll know when the time is right. He made a mistake years ago losing his to quickly so in his terms, he’s doing you a favor. In your terms, he’s torturing you.

You swear he gets off on it.

You’ve been rubbing your pussy up against your hand every five seconds at work, coaxing him through sexy texts and lewd photos. Trying to give him the heads up you’re ready for him to finally fuck you. Or “make love” as he’d exclaim. same shit

He’s usually arrived home by the time you get off of work and today, you were definitely worked; panties have been sticking to your cunt since 10 this morning

“I need you now!” you shout kicking your shoes off and tossing your bag elsewhere, meanwhile, he’s wide-eyed, staring at you with a mouth full of cereal

“Pardon?”

“Steve baby please I love you so much but I need your cock in me right now, I’ve been so horny all day, I mean I can literally smell myself through my own pants right now,” you admit ridding him of the bowl, climbing into his lap, immediately grinding your hips

He scoffs.

“Baby we’ve been through this.. damn, really can smell it huh?” he replies cursing himself, biting his lip, “I thought we were going to wait? you know I want it to be special for you”—

“and it will be, please I promise I’m ready” you pout

The heavy feeling of you has him already babbling.

—“just like that baby, bounce it a little bit — y-yeah that’s it there we go,” he strains bucking, his hips up into yours, cock fully solid

“yeah? like that daddy?”—

“Don’t! Stop that.. fuck, don’t call me that, you know what that does to me”

“what does it do hm?” you lean down to nip his ear, “does it make you wanna fuck my brains out?”

He growls, moving your hips faster “What the fuck are you doing? Why are you doing this to me, fuck! keep bouncin, keep boucin that hot pussy on my dick sweetheart oh— shit”—

“Come on Stevie you know you want it, you’ve been dying to feel my pussy squeeze it, anytime with you will be s-speacial, just.. PLEASE!” you, almost in tears, begging; your thighs are burning the faster and harder you grind

“Ahhh, fuck it, get up!”, he demands angrily and eagerly ripping your pants and soaked panties off—

“Open those fuckin legs, ill make ya feel real special tonight”

reblogs appreciated

#steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x virgin reader #steve harrignton #steve harrington smut #perv!steve harrington x perv!reader #joe keery #stranger things #daddy steve harrington #steve harrington x fem!reader #perv!steve harrington x virgin reader #afab reader #dom!steve harrington #soft!dom steve #steve harrington one shot

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the-one-who-lambs · 8 months

Note

uhh hello!! sorry if this is a tall order LOL but I wanna ask, do you have any narilamb fanfic recs? :D I already read yours and I really like bamsara’s and I’m waiting for epicaandk’s to update (that one is my fav ever <3) but idk what to read now lol

Tall order?? Naaaaah, I'm always happy to give recs. Oh boy, I'm gonna go in reverse chronological order.

If you've read all of my narilamb fics (have you seriously? I'm impressed, that's probably well over half the 150k+ I've written for this damn fandom. Also, to anyone seeing this from a reblog, my stuff is over at onethirdofimpossible!) then here we go!

You already mentioned it, but The Rehabilitation of Death is excellent so far! This one is by @bamsara who is new to the CotL fandom but apparently not new to fanfic writing; they have a really popular FNAF fic and I assume the well-deserved attention this fic's been getting is a byproduct of the popularity they've already gotten in other fandoms. :D Welcome, bamsara! Many of the fic writers in this fandom are friends with each other already, but we don't bite if you wanna say hi.

Feel No Evil and Language Barrier, both by @payasita. I always love how payasita portrays this duo (in both digital art and writing), with so much sass and repressed loneliness, knowing they're stuck together for eternity and making the best of it. (And maybe falling in love, depending on how dense Narinder keeps being.) What makes these come alive for me is how well thought out the setting is outside the Lamb and Narinder. The descriptions and weight of emotions really pop here.

LITERALLY ANYTHING written by pavi / @i-eat-deodorant. Depending on how spicy you want your fics to be he has even more here. Character analysis, diction, pacing, etc. are consistently 10/10. Top-quality banter between a sassy Lamb and tired old man Narinder. We constantly bounce ideas off each other and inspire each other a lot but I promise I'm not hyping him up just because he's my friend oh my god please just go bless your eyes.

It Was For You, O Death by blueberry-muffin-massacre (if they have a tumblr, let me know so I can tag!). An intriguing alternative ending to the final battle wherein the Lamb chooses a secret third option by refusing to give up the Red Crown and still observing Narinder as the God of Death. So many details are so well thought out and duality their relationship is nicely characterized-- both genuine care for each other and also quite unhealthy. A fine line treaded well!

Confessional by jusmove (again, lmk if they have a tumblr). Been a while since I've read it, but I love how the Lamb chips at Narinder's very carefully built emotional walls. Their personalities are very well fleshed out here, especially Narinder's cognitive dissonance at being able to process love.

Confession by @thewitchoftheweed. I didn't expect a part two to this one, but my god I was so thrilled when it did update. Narinder and Lamb with their unique and parallel loneliness and their fucked-up sense of everything. Their relationship is very rocky here, and I love how they navigate it: with tension and eventual, pained acceptance. Mind the rating.

Of Character Development and Being Dense by @calliecature. A short and sweet narilamb classic. They're both mutually pining and one of them is too emotionally repressed to realize it. Guess who.

Not An Offering, But a Gift by @checkplzjuliet. Small confession fic. I especially love how Narinder's descriptions twist the knife of his situation here, and how Lambert is a total foil for him! There are a lot of good things happening in such a short span, which is impressive.

Also, if you think you've read all my narilamb fics... I do have a secret one out there too. Just so you know.

Happy reading!

I'm already friends with many of the people here, but if any of the writers I've tagged have been kinda wanting to reach out for a while but feel a little anxious... Don't be. I've made my best friends in this fandom by literally just waiting for some of my readers to get over whatever assumption they have that I'm cool and say hi. Or being the more confident one first.

#hannah's rambles #cult of the lamb #narilamb #cotl #fanfic #fic rec

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gentlebeardsbarngrill · 4 months

Text

01/15/2024 Crew Recap

Hey all, today has been a very very very long day. I’m typing this with my eyeballs glazed over and half open. However, so much has happened in such a little amount of time I wanted share a few things before I pass out I know a lot of you are in different timezones, are busy with life, and taking a break, so maybe this will help with parsing through some of the crazy stuff the crew has been up to.

The petition hit 50K, and is at 52.5K at the moment

Fundraisers: I didn’t even realize there were two different fundraisers for Palestine/Gaza going on but we blew both out of the water. (Note: the second picture is from a November campaign but I think its just as important to highlight— ty for the correction anon!)

The Emmys hashtag turn out was great tonight. There was some pretty amazing and creative stuff going on across all the platforms. Some can be seen on IG, but if you wanna see the majority of it, check out twitter #SaveOFMD #75thEmmys

---We have new ways of protesting and advocating for our show, see here for the thread on tumblr (from twitter):---

And to support that @saltpepperbeard was kind enough to put together a wonderful guide on how to Call It Through as a Crew: Alleviating Some Phone Anxiety which as someone who is socially anxious and sometimes verbally vomits on people when on the phone, is AMAZING and thank you so much for doing that to help.

-- > There is also this new thread on some new places to call into. Don't quote me on that being an official thing we should do, I'm sure @renewasacrew and others will have more in the AM, I just wanted to share it so people could follow if they wanted to.

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

New Articles!

Our Flag Means Death: Here’s why season three deserves to be aired

Petition to save BBC show with rare Rotten Tomatoes score gets 50,000 signatures

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

There's so much more that's happened today-- but I can't write it all down because my brain is couscous.

<---So instead, I'm going to use this last part to gush over you all and your amazing contributions in all your unique ways. The community support the last few days has been SO INCREDIBLY UPLIFTING.-->

I saw (and experienced) people reblogging asks where random followers, anons, and mutuals just reached out and sent love because they could tell people were struggling.

I've seen comments all over the place on Tumblr, IG, Twitter, and Facebook where each and every person is encouraging each other to speak their mind, or complimenting their artwork, encouraging them if they were feeling uncomfortable with things outside their comfort zones, coming up with new and exciting ways to fight back, people reaching out to the cast/crew just to say hi and remind them we love them.

I've seen Self-Care checkpoints all over, reminding people to drink water, take a break, block your notifications for a while, not engaging in negative behavior.

I've seen people being so nice on instagram posts that the people who were being dicks about all our comments turned around and decided to watch OFMD!

I saw so many people doing new analysis of scenes and characters, and having really deep and friendly discussions that make everyone think in new ways.

I saw people digging through old tumblrs to bring life back to old posts and artwork.

I saw so much NEW artwork, new FICS! New GIFS! So much new art and love!

I could literally go on and on, but I've just...I had to dump this out of my brain otherwise I'd explode. I've just seen so much today that continues to make me so proud of our little safe space ship and so happy to be apart of this community.

You all continue to be the best of the best of humans, and I am so very grateful to get to witness and be apart of it. Rest up lovelies and have a good day / night, wherever you may be. May you dream of sexy middle-aged gay men kissing, or hugging, or whatever else you want them to be getting into.

#ofmd #our flag means death #stede bonnet #gentlebeard #edward teach #renew as a crew #rhys darby #blackbonnet #save our flag means death #save ofmd #ofmd s3 #renew our flag means death #renew ofmd #ofmd daily recap

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collapsedglasshouses · 8 months

Text

Mine [Noah Sebastian x Singer!Reader]

DIVIDER ART WORK BY @cafekitsune

PAIRING: Noah Sebastian x Singer!Reader (female)

SUMMARY: You are Noah's girlfriend and helped him out during the concert, because he lost his voice. After the performance he wants to thank you.

WARNINGS: swearing, SMUT, MDNI, 18+, unprotected sex (P in V) (don’t do that), fingering, (let me know if i missed something)

A/N: Surprise! Two uploads today! This idea came to my mind because of I See Stars and Erra helping the boys out. If you enjoyed it, please consider reblogging!

TAGLIST: @measuredingold (LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANNA BE ADDED TO MY TAGLIST)

Today had been entirely different than you originally thought. You visited your boyfriend of almost a year on tour and planned to stay in the background.

Being a well known singer in a band as well, you met the boys over a mutual friend, Jesse Cash. You had met Jesse around three years ago when he helped you and your band write on your new album and even featured on it.

Becoming friends with Jesse made it almost impossible to not meet the boys and you were more than pleasantly surprised of how well you all got along.

You almost immediately clicked with Noah, having this mutual interest in music and creating art while living similar lifestyles.

It almost came naturally how quickly Noah and you got closer. First it started with some hang outs that often included creating music together. Those hang outs quickly turned into self-named "friend dates" and before you really realised it, you were suddenly the "friends" who thought it was totally normal to occasionally make out and have sex.

It took you almost a year to admit your feelings for each other. But when you finally did, you did everything you could to find time for each other.

You two being singers of bands that had the opportunity to blow up over night, made it pretty hard to match schedules.

That is why you were more than relieved when you got a couple of weeks off and decided to join your boyfriend and your friends on their tour.

But when you arrived your happy mood quickly changed. After greeting Folio and Jesse, you asked were your boyfriend was but when you found him, he looked everything but happy.

"Hey, Baby. What’s wrong?" You immediately asked and left your suitcase next to the door before quickly wrapping your arms around him.

Almost instantly he returned your hug while sighing and rested his head against your neck.

"I'm so fucking done." You immediately noticed what the problem was. His voice was hoarse and rough.

"Oh no…" You muttered under your breath and rubbed his back.

"I couldn’t even sing yesterday. We had to cut the set short." He confessed to you and slowly let go of you.

"Why didn’t you tell me? I could have brought my special tea and some goodies to make you feel better, Noah." You asked him and caressed his cheek. A smile crept onto his face. "You know, I love you so much, Y/N."

"I love you, too."

The next couple of hours were filled with planning and even thinking about cancelling the show but when you all set down and ate, Jesse had an idea.

"What if we help you sing? You just sing what you can and we all step in when you can’t." He explained and Matt started to nod. You saw how stressed Matt was, trying to make the best out of the suboptimal situations that kept on happening this tour. "That would actually be a great idea. We can ask Devin, too."

"Y/N can step in, too." Jesse than suggested and gave you a careful look. You stopped chewing when you heard that sentence and immediately looked between Noah and Jesse.

This would have been a big step, considering the fan base didn’t really know about yours and Noah's relationship. It wasn’t like you were really secretive about it, a lot of them were even guessing it, since you always seemed to be near each other but you never really confirmed anything. If you would sing tonight, there would be little to no doubt that something was definitely going on, considering the fact that you had no reason to be there otherwise than being close with one of the boys.

Your eyes locked with Noah’s, who seemed to wait for a response from you while you waited for his. When he didn’t speak up, you cleared your through before taking a sip from you water.

"I could, if you want me to." You offered and felt how Noah's hand slipped onto your thigh. He gave you a reassuring squeeze before looking at the others. "I would love that."

Erra had finished their set ten minutes prior and now you started to sweat. You wouldn’t be on that stage until they played Just Pretend and for Dethrone at the end, but your heart was racing.

"Are you okay?" You heard a voice behind you and shortly after felt a hand on your shoulder. Jesse.

You quickly gave him a smile and nodded. "Yeah. Just nervous."

"You know, you don’t have to do it. Devin can step in for you. I can step in for you." Jesse tried to calm your nerves. He knew exactly why you were this nervous.

"No, I'll do it." You reassured him and he nodded. "It’s just scary, you know. It’s always been just Noah and I. We didn’t answer any questions that had to do with our relationship status, we just kept everything to ourselves and this is going to change now."

"You'll be great." Jesse answered you and you quickly gave him a hug.

When you sang the last note of the song, you felt relieve. The applause totally overwhelmed you, when you suddenly felt a hand sneak around your waist. It was Noah. His eyes were shimmering and his smile was the brightest you had ever seen. It had been a complete success.

You had to grin so much that your cheeks started to hurt. It wasn't like you never experienced something like that, but it just felt different to stand on that stage with your boyfriend.

You all bowed to the audience before walking ever so slowly off the stage. As soon as you were backstage, you all fell into each other's arms.

"THAT WAS FUCKING AWESOME!" Folio exclaimed while slightly jumping up and down. You still couldn't stop smiling. The crowd had been amazing and you had so much fun performing with your boyfriend that you forgot about your concerns entirely. Hell, if you had the option right now you would broadcast to the whole world how much you loved him.

"It was absolutely brilliant." Jolly praised the whole group. Jesse still held onto you before pinching your cheek. "You did so well, I had goose bumps." - "You are one to talk. You sounded so great."

Noah still grinned from ear to ear while looking at you all. "I had so much fun. Thank you all so much for helping me out."

"You did so great, Noah. Even with your not so healthy voice." You praised your boyfriend before giving him a big kiss. He held you close when you broke the kiss again.

When the group made their way to the lounge room, you and Noah walked behind them all. He didn't let go of your hands since you walked off the stage and right now you couldn't be happier.

Right when you were about to catch up to the others, you were dragged into the bathroom that was in the corridor before the lounge. You heard the click of the door, which showed you that it was locked.

"Noah, what-..." You tried to say but you were met with his lips on yours. You instantly felt goose bumps form on your body while he kissed you like you would disappear if he stopped.

"This is your reward, baby." He whispered in your ear and seconds later he softly bit your neck. You could feel how wet you got just from that.

He pressed you against the door and kissed his way back to her face. Before you could even catch a straight thought, he opened your pants and let them slight down your legs while kissing you hard.

"You did so well. You sounded like an angel." He almost moaned into your mouth while his hand found its way into your underwear. You moaned out his name when his fingers found your clit. Even though you already got used to his touches, this time felt so different to you.

His fingers began to circle your clit with swift motions and you felt like you were crumbling into little pieces right in front of him. Your hands found their way into his short hair. At times like this you missed his longer hair, because you couldn't grab onto his shirt hair that easily anymore.

"Fuck. I love you so much." You moaned and let your head fall against the door while you slowly started to shake under his touch.

You almost let out a scream when he suddenly stopped fingering you and instead lifted you onto the bathroom counter in a swift motion. You didn't have the time to react properly because he kissed you again.

"You don't know how much it turned me on, seeing you sing my song on that fucking stage." He groaned into your mouth and pulled your underwear down. "Showing every single one how proud you are to be my girlfriend."

"Fuck, I love being yours." You cried out and started to pull on his tank top to get it off of him.

He smiled at you when you finally got the shirt off of him. "Look at you, so needy." - "Only because of you."

You easily opened his pants, but when you tried to pull them off of him, he grabbed your hands and looked you in the eyes. "This is about you, my love. Not me." - "Please, Noah. I need you."

He stared into your eyes but you couldn't form a clear thought in your head and whined again. "Please, Noah. I haven't felt you in so long."

"Is this really what you want?" He asked you in a deep tone and you still could noticed how rough his voice was. You needed to take care of him later. "Please."

"God, you drive me insane, Y/N." He groaned against your mouth before stepping back to pull his pants and underwear down. You felt a rush of heat run through your body when you saw his hardened cock leaking with pre-cum. You needed him so bad, you almost cried out again.

Your whole body felt like it was on fire, while you leaned a bit more over the edge of the counter to get closer to him. He ran a hand through his hair, before stepping between your legs and lining himself with your entrance.

He looked you in the eyes again while slowly sinking into you. You moaned out loudly at the feeling of him inside of you, causing him to press a hand over your mouth.

"Even though I love your voice so much, I don't think the boys should hear this." He whispered to you and you slowly began to nod.

His eyes never left yours as he slowly started to move his hips.

He furrowed his eyebrows and his mouth dropped slightly open. His heavy breaths turned in to quiet moans and you thought you were about to lose your mind at the noises he made.

"You feel so fucking good." He almost cried out, causing you to get goose bumps before wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. When his thrusts became harder, you felt his hands squeeze your hips even more. You were sure he would leave bruises.

"I love you so much." You whined when you started to feel your orgasm form in your stomach. His head fell onto your shoulder and you felt him twitching inside of you. He also was close.

"I love you." He moaned in your ear and sent you over the edge with that.

You bit down onto his shoulder to contain your moans while you reached your high, clenching around him.

"Oh God." Noah moaned into your ear while his thrusts became more irregular before you felt his cum spread inside of you.

You both held onto each other, while you came down from your highs, before you started to giggle lightly.

"What?" Your boyfriend asked you and slowly pulled out of you, causing you to whine quietly at the loss of contact.

"What's so funny?" He asked again when he started to clean you up.

"You tell me to be quiet, just to almost scream." You teased him and pressed a kiss on his forehead, when he gave you a shocked look.

With that you jumped of the counter and reached for your clothes, when he grabbed your hips and turned you to face him.

"If you tease me again, I'll make sure, you're the one to scream." He threatened you.

"PLEASE DON'T. THERE ARE PEOPLE WHO WANT TO ENJOY THERE EVENING WITHOUT HEARING A FULL ON PORN FROM NEXT DOOR." You heard Ruffilo shout through the door of the bathroom.

Your eyes widened and you quickly got ready to leave, but before Noah could reach the door, you grabbed his hand and pull him towards you.

You kiss him deeply, before whispering against his lips: "Now, let's get you into bed. I'll take care of you."

"God, I love you."

#bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #noah sebastian x reader #bad omens fic #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian fanfic #bad omens rpf #collapsedglasshouseswrites

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gerardpilled · 11 months

Note

I want to say thanks for acknowledging and being critical of racism done by MCR band members and racism in the scene in general. I just recently got into MCR a year ago on a deeper scale and I have found many things off putting and kind of yikes. It's nice seeing someone who is critical of what the band members have done in the past and not excusing them and addressing that it was an issue as a whole. I used to be very hateful towards Lindsey but now I realize that it would be hypocritical (I still do not like MSI just due to it not being my taste in music and I don't care for that shock value type lyrics). I was wondering if you know any resources that talk more about racism in the scene? It's something I'd like to know more about

Oh it’s no problem! Thank you for thanking me, but I don’t see myself as doing anything special. I was raised in an environment where I was fortunate enough to be around people and friends who have made me aware of implicit racism -from my self and others- since an early age. Hearing “well, that’s cause you’re white” is a playful joke but it also made me aware of stuff! Just from what I’ve seen in recent years, the shortcomings of white people who are the focus of fandom are often ignored. There’s nothing wrong with pointing out a racist thing your fave said or did because it doesn’t necessarily make them A Racist™️ (sometimes it can). It also helps people recognize the issues before they get worse. POC aren’t a monolith - there are plenty of things disagreed on amongst any community - but there are definitely over arching sentiments.

Anyway, I’m basically just reiterating a bunch of talking points made by poc on here. As for further reading, I feel like the best sources for me have been mutuals’ posts. First hand stories. Being receptive when people share how certain things make them feel. Racism in this particular scene is also sort of a new and emerging topic as the people who lived through the heart of it are just now reaching authorship age. I look forward to seeing what comes out in the next few years.

What I have right now:

My Chemical Relaxer - a short autobiographical story about growing up Black and emo

News story about how the current state of hardcore is looking much more diverse

Sing It Zine - zine made by fanartists a few years ago!! It’s great, I bought a digital copy myself. It’s filled with art and short essays about how it felt to grow up in a scene that often ignored non white people. Also a bunch of tumblr users participated, so it offers a great follow list if you’re interested.

If anyone else has any suggestions, add them in a reblog, or send them and I’ll do it!

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bakerstreethound · 9 months

Text

Etched in Stone

Relationship: Benedict Bridgerton x afab!reader

Warnings: 18+ spicy times (MINORS DNI), flirting, fingering, mutual pining, childhood friends to best friends to lovers, exposed ankles, fluff, softness, gentle/possessive Benedict, brief mention of alcohol and slightly tipsy momma Violet Bridgerton makes an appearance

Summary: Bored at yet another party hosted at Bridgerton House, Benedict seeks solace (and a strong drink) in the quiet of Anthony's office only to find you there, one of his oldest friends and buried feeling resurface.

All writings belong to me @bakerstreethound (Do NOT copy, repost, claim, or translate my works to other sites. I only publish here and on A03 under the same username)

Word Count: 4.1k+

A/N: I wrote this fic for my lovely friend @frostandflamesfanfic a while back but wanted to take my time posting it because this was such a joy to work on and wanted to savor every moment. El was there for the beginning of this story so it's only fair I dedicate it to them as well. Thank you for trusting me to write one of your beloved fictionals. I drew a lot of inspiration from both book and show Benedict. Any era inaccuracies are fault of my own as well as where Benedict's room is located in the house. Graphic by @firefly-graphics . Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!!!!

His piercing gaze hadn’t left you all evening, making your shoulders rise on the verge of danger, but the way his gaze bore into yours, and you couldn’t deny the shallow thrill or the pulsing in your heart.

You hadn't wanted to come to the ball and despite your family’s protests and prodding you found yourself at the Bridgetron ball, dressed in the prior season’s attire, not caring about the gossip. It wasn’t like you had anything to prove to the ton or Lady Whistledown. A soft smile graced your lips at the thought and you round a corner, sipping on your lemonade, weary and the night was still young. You longed to be reading one of the adventures in your novels, whisking you away to another place and time, holding hands with your beloved.

******

Benedict sighed for the third consecutive time in a row, making Eloise roll her eyes. “Brother, surely you can find some enjoyment from this party.”

“When I tell you, I’ll let you know,” he grumbled, watching the couples swirl along the dance floor, his eldest brother Anthony pulling Kate close in his arms, a bright smile lighting her face. Benedict tried to hide the disdain, the ache resounding in his chest. He’d rather be locked away in his room, working on his art, perfecting the curve of a hand, the slope of a shoulder, silk between thighs. He shook his head, groaning before tossing back a glass of lemonade he’d picked up during yet another turn around the room.

It did little to cool his blood.

When he made his way to the study, he half expected to see Colin there sneaking a glass of Anthony’s secret stash, however, he didn’t expect you draped across a chair, nose buried in a book, legs curled over the arms of the chair, exposing your ankles. The smirk crawled along his lips for a fraction, enraptured by your stone-cold expression and you flipped another page, not uttering a sound. He poured himself a drink, trying not to chuckle, and watched you intently.

“Do you intend to stare at me all evening, Mister Bridgerton? Or are you going to ask me to pull myself together to dance in front of the entirety of the ton?”

The drink almost lodges itself in his throat as he choked it down, the bewildered expression on his face the cause of your pursed lips. For the love, you were laughing at him!

“Cat got your tongue, Benedict?”

Oh, it was more than the cat that got his tongue, he wanted to swallow yours, combat your wit, fill himself with your words and beauty tenfold.

Good gracious, what had become him?

Here you were and he’d been watching you like a hawk all evening barely making a move and your ankles were there, tempting him, tricking him, enticing him. How ready he was to fall, the hold you had on him was indescribable. He’d been this way since he first laid eyes on you all those months ago. He couldn’t allow himself to dwell on you. But how he wanted to fall with you, drag you along the dance floor show you off for the world to see. No, he would do no such thing.

He would enshrine you in a painting, etch you into stone, a carving upon his heart.

Warmth flooded your body as you continued watching Benedict pace around the room and you doubted he realized he had done so. A bedraggled state was becoming of him, accentuated by his ruffled hair as he muttered under his breath, stopping to refill his glass with something stronger than lemonade.

You smirk, perusing the pages of your novel, which sparked an idea.

“Benedict?”

Your voice, oh your voice was a guiding light, his anchor, steadying him through the whirlwind of a storm conjuring in his head.

“Yes?” His gaze met yours, and he stopped pacing standing before you and giving you a good look at his chest, the rise and fall of his breaths, reminding you to steady yours.

You crane your neck up, looking him in the eye. “Read to me.” It’s a simple request, but you hide the quivering of your lip. He leaned in closer, engulfing you in his scent, causing you to bite your cheek to keep from groaning. It was heady and intoxicating and it was all him.

“What?”

Focus, you ninny! You cursed softly to yourself gathering your thoughts as you clung to your novel.

“I asked if you would read to me. Literature is the art of words is it not?” You shifted in your seat, your feet now resting flat on the floor as any respectable proper person would have done from the start. You let out a soft groan when the balls of your feet touch the floor, and he leaned down further, his index finger barely stroking along your jawline. Your ankles were definitely covered now, but you suspected his reaction didn’t stem from that.

He cocked his head. “You would prefer me to read romance to you rather than show you firsthand?”

“Why ever would I need to experience such things firsthand? I have everything I need here.” Your stomach fluttered, almost dropping when he kneeled before you, his fingers brushing along your sides before grasping your thighs and squeezing gently.

“You do have one thing right for this evening. We have everything we need right here.” Another squeeze of your thigh sent your mind reeling.

“Does one intend to enact upon such desires, Mister Bridgerton? Or does one who reads such novels suppress them?”

His hands traveled further up your thighs a silent challenge, one you were not backing down from despite the pounding of your heart. You were here with Benedict Bridgerton alone in Anthony’s study, someone you had known for years, a constant fixture throughout your youth, the source of countless daydreams and now, rather passion-induced dreams.

“Do you know how long I’ve imagined this?” He growled low in his chest and you forget to breathe. None of the books you read prepared you for reality, not that you would confess. Benedict didn’t need his ego poked any longer, the more he knew he could unravel you slowly.

You squirmed against him, tugging his vest. “I’ve wanted you for years but denied myself. I didn’t - couldn’t- imagine you felt the same,” your voice came out as a whisper, a plea for him to see you and he did. Benedict saw you and gazed at you with hope and adoration.

He growled low in your ear, sliding his hands around your waist, rising to his feet pulling you against him, the racing of his beating heart restarting yours. He was your desire, your soul ached for him, knowing he was the only one you could ever hope to give yourself to.

No one else in the world was meant for you or could compare to him.

His heart beating in tandem with yours, clinging to each other, a lifeline. It felt like a lifetime before clarity finally made its way into the world, making its intentions known between you. It was more than the slow-burning passion and affection blossoming between each other.

His lips brushing along yours sent your heart soaring, connecting your souls and you welcomed him, and you were home, he pulled you flush up against him, groaning softly, digging his hands into your waist. He couldn’t breathe, utterly weightless, intoxicated by your scent, everything. He was high on you, your touch, oh how lovely it felt your fingers digging into his back, melting against him, needing him as much as he did you.

This was love. It was Benedict in a new form, one you awoke, taking him back home, a home he’d always known for you were there through it all. He wanted to give you everything you desired, everything you deserved. And you would receive the best in return. But not in his brother’s study on his favorite reading chair.

“Anthony will kill us if we do anything here,” He pulled away in a moment of clarity, holding you close, your legs trembled, overcome with your passions. You ached for him dearly, more than you knew possible.

“I’ve done worse, I assure you,” you snicked, gathering your bearings, brushing off your outfit, ruffling out the wrinkles as if that cleared off any evidence of Benedict having his hands over you wasn’t obvious. “I’ve defiled my mind with notions of unrealistic nonsense.”

He raised a brow, looking unamused, a flicker of amusement flashing before boisterous laughter, likely caused by Lady Featherington passing by the door and you inhaled sharply, the anticipation ticking by each moment. As soon as it came it went, hopefully, spurred on in good spirits. Lady Featherington surely didn’t have half the mind to break into Anthony’s study.

Benedict cracked open the door beckoning you over, taking your arm by the elbow, “Up the stairs, second door on the left. I’ll knock three times so you know it’s me.”

You nodded, taking in his appearance, his disheveled hair, mused vest, and undershirt beneath. You would be lying to yourself if you denied the excitement of what lies beneath but the other side of you was equally terrified.

******

Dashing up the stairs was easier said than done, the events of the evening causing your head to spin in a mixture of wonder, anxiety, and borderline delirium. You were sure you were dreaming but the stairs beneath your feet are solid, beckoning you up to the elegant quarters where the Bridgertons slept. You glided your hand along the banister admiring the railing, willing yourself not to fall, raucous laughter closing in, dangerously close by from the sound fluttering through the halls.

Perhaps Lady Featherington sought to uncover your dalliance after all. That would be the talk of the ton, however, you knew the Bridgertons could afford some slander from Lady Whistledown, but fortunately, all she commented on was the growing size of the family, the lovely grandchildren Vicountess Bridgerton had the pleasure of seeing when Daphne and Simon returned to town.

You silently cursed your attire and its restricted movement when you made it to the landing, stopping for the briefest moment to catch your breath. You didn't bother asking if his younger siblings were asleep, but he didn’t seem to care at that moment, the way his eyes glanced along your body, and the smile along his lips was far too distracting anyway.

Your minds were busy with other thoughts, the taste of his lips still freshly imprinted into your memory. You did everything as he instructed, the door to his room groaning on its hinges making your heart race, but you peeked out the door to be certain.

No maids padded down the corridor, the only sign of life was the music and laughter intermingling for what you could imagine would be all hours of the night. The Bridgertons could throw a grand party, no doubt about it.

Benedict's quarters greeted you with the scent of him, masculine and comforting. It felt like home, the furniture dark and handsome, the shelves lined with countless books, figurines along his desk not to mention his infamous sketchbook lying on his desk in the corner by the fireplace. Charred pieces of crumbled paper jutted out from the embers.

Curiously, you reached out for it turning to a page. It didn't take you long to figure out the odd figures as you pieced each frame together, a culmination of finished pieces, sketches, and half-started attempts, frustrated pen strokes deft in their quest to uncover the beauty ready to bloom.

Hands. Intertwined, graceful elegant, smooth lines, hardened ridges, callouses palms, delicately resting ones. Upon further inspection, you noticed the tried and failed attempts at an all too familiar pair of hands. It was odd to look at how he depicted yours, strong, yet graceful, adept at anything you put your mind to between needlework, horseback riding, the leather a fine feel in your hands.

You had to admit some were quite good while some lacked depth and luster. Practice made it worth it in the end, some of the figures he drew resembled a striking resemblance to his family, almost as if he were imitating the artist of the figurines, which when you looked longer were small likenesses of his mother, father, and siblings. The sight warmed your heart.

"Benedict! You're missing the partyyy!" A shrill giggle outside the hall pulled you from your exploration, your heart racing in tandem. You hoped and prayed it wasn’t Gregory and Hyacinth. From your previous encounters, you knew they were sharp, keen-eyed, and inquisitive about a multitude of subjects on top of their general mischievousness. Plus, you weren’t in the mood to ask any questions, but where the hell was Benedict?

Despite yourself you began pacing, desperately trying to avoid glancing at the bed draped in fine sheets, a fine rich deep velvety blue coverlet gracing it giving the piece a regal appearance. You wanted nothing more than to lose yourself between the downy softness of it all and fall into blissful dreams, and yet, there are other pressing matters to attend to.

The giggling resumed and you sighed, thinking better of yourself, not wanting this to be a joke.

You found yourself opening the door, greeted with the voice of none other than Violet Bridgerton whispering, on the verge of a quiet yell to her second song, grasping onto his elbow at the lower landing of the stairs. “Benedict! Good heavens, you’re to retire so earlyyyy???”

He rolled his eyes half in amusement and exasperation. “Mother, I have matters to attend to, plus the other mothers merely want to hunt me for sport and pair them with their retched daughters.”

His eyes flashed, glancing up, his gaze boring into yours, flooding your body with warmth. He quirked a brow, challenging you while his mother rambled drunkenly along, still grasping his elbow while he shifted his weight on his feet.

Shut the door, he mouthed to you, causing your lips to quirk in the barest hint of a smile.

“Quite right, you have a fair point. But there was that one lovely person you danced with twice back in the orangery perhaps…”

At that exact moment, you opened the door further to grant yourself a better view of Benedict’s struggle and also partly in retaliation to his protests, only for the grand door to let out a massive agonizing wail. The giggle left you of your own volition at Benedict’s bewildered expression rendering you completely helpless as Violet looked up at you, the same Bridgerton eyes, older, wiser and so kind smiled at you, albeit borderline tipsy.

“I see now I see. That’s the pressing matter you have to attend to. Don’t mess it up dear boy,” she slewed, chuckling to herself, before whispering in his ear, his face flushing in response. Violet released his arm, winking up at you before traipsing down the stairs, leaving a flustered Benedict behind to collect his thoughts before he came back to his senses, scurrying up the stairs while you slipped back into his room, posting yourself right in front of the door, keeping it cracked just so. When he arrived you only catch a glimpse of his eyes flashing before the door sealed you completely from his sight.

Silence greeted you and you feared you might have ignited his wrath, alas you merely wanted to tease him.

The seconds tick by then three knocks follow.

Were you going to answer him? Oh, he was going to make you pay for this with many kisses. He huffed before composing himself.

You still didn’t answer.

“Don’t play with me, dear unless you wish for them all to hear us when we should be dancing.” When he knocked for the second time, you decided to open the door, the scowl imprinted on his face illuminating a side of him you desperately wanted to see. You did this to him. Without hesitation, he locked the door behind him and immediately pressed you against the wall, a scowl forming along his lips.

“You wouldn’t dare flash me before the eligible men of the ton tonight if you had to.” You whispered, brushing a stray hair off his forehead. “I belong to you, Benedict. Even if I am an old maid.” Your heart thundered in your chest. You were home, you belonged to no one else, nowhere else but here in Benedict's loving arms.

“I am yours, oh love I’m yours.” His voice cracked, overcome with realization and the emotion of it all, his scowl replaced by pursed lips, wandering hands, lavishing your body in the simplest yet heat-induced touches and you wanted - craved - more. More of him. Benedict. Your Benedict.

“Benedict, Benedict…Benedict,” Your was all you can muster with the meeting of his lips upon yours, feeling the depths of him, pulling to you crashing over you like a tidal wave. You were a sailor lost at sea who made it to the safety of the harbor and oh, it was blissful beyond anything beyond your wildest dreams.

“Say it again,” he pleaded, each kiss awakening desires long suppressed, ones you hadn't acknowledged since they only came about throughout the course of your friendship with Benedict. Only he could put you under his unique spell, craving his lips, the brush of his hand against yours and here you are getting more than you dreamed.

“Benedict,” You sighed blissfully as he kissed you once more, kisses languidly savoring the feel of you as he guided you up onto the bed, the coverlet as luxurious as you surmised. You’ve not come close to feeling something so heavenly as this and Benedict, oh, he was more than you ever dreamed. The novels you’d read didn’t hold a flame to each sensation buzzing through your body, the magnetizing gaze of his upon yours, already undressing you with his eyes. You wanted to take your time, alas it was getting harder to resist. Benedict was one thing if not impossible, but he was yours, irrevocably so.

A fire in the fireplace crackled to life, startling you for a moment, while Benedict caressed your jaw, memorizing every inch, and you selfishly wonder if he'll draw your portrait one day, trying to capture the first moment he had you to himself in his chambers. He moves his exploration from your jaw to your shoulder, then your hands, leaving kisses where he can, murmuring sweet nothings, soft praises that have your knees weak and you wanting him all the more.

“Your hands are lovely, nothing can compare to me holding them,” he whispered, caressing them softly, continuing to place kisses of adoration along them while you gazed at his soft loving eyes. “I cannot capture their beauty, their essence onto the page. I’ve tried and failed for months.”

You smiled, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “You’ve done a fine job, Benedict. Your art is beautiful, never lose that passion inside you, it’s ethereal strong, spellbinding, and magnetic.”

“As are you. You’re everywhere in my waking hour, in my dreams and sleepless nights. You’re my muse. You inspire me.” His voice wavered, a tear sliding down his cheek. Every bit of him belonged to you, there was no question, no doubt about it.

Without another word, you tug on his vest, a beautiful shade of the signature Bridgerton blue, his shirt embellished with small bees. Everything looked wonderful when it was on him, but you wanted more, to lose yourself to him countless times throughout the night.

“You’re pretty much the only reason I get out of bed most mornings,” You swallowed as he turned to face you, his hands cupping your face.

“My love, oh my love,” he kisses you softly, in equal parts awe and reverence intertwined, making you forget where you are, the time and place. It’s you and him safe in each other’s embrace. His kisses trailed from your hands up to your neck, nipping softly, eliciting soft groans from you and you returned them in kind, his fingers stroking along your back, pulling you closer in his embrace.

You brushed away another tear from his cheek, one falling from your eye as well and he wiped it away, kissing you gently before wrapping around behind you, desperation, adoration, awe, and passion guiding him. His lips connected with your neck, and you sighed in satisfaction, his hands wandering down your torso, lighting you up on the inside and you groan leaning back into him, leaving your mind to wander while you savored his touches.

“Good, you’re not thinking, that’s right. Much better see?” His hand wandered lower, down stroking you just so, warmth blooming through your body. He relished your moans, biting into your neck as he watched the effect he has on you, wishing he could have done this to you earlier all the wasted time you have to make up for now.

You urged him on through desperate kisses as you pull clothes from your bodies, every inch of him visible to you, eagerness and passion alike driving you both.

“Keep going, please.” The last of your clothing fell to the floor and he pulled you back onto the bed while assuring him you have all the time in the world. “I want you, Benedict, always have, always will.”

He needed nothing more but your constant assurance, his fingers dipping into you, gliding along your body making you fall into his ministrations, your breathing ragged as you fell into bliss, his fingers replaced with his tongue sending you soaring into another place another time and it felt so irrevocably right, your fingers digging into his mass of curls encouraging him along, more than eager to assist your release. And when you were spent, his lips met yours hunger and desire battling, intertwined as you tasted yourself on his lips. You wanted more, you wanted all of him, however, in the midst of it all you found yourself asking a question as you kissed him once more, this time slower, unrushed.

"What did your mother say to have you flustered as you are?" You batted your eyes, casting an impish smile, a look you know he couldn't resist. He hummed, his free hand stroking your side, his voice low in your ear. "My dearest mother told me to treat you well and that we best enjoy ourselves a little bit before our union. Told us to enjoy ourselves."

“Her intuition is uncanny, I never want to be on her bad side.” You huffed as Benedict groaned, pulling you in for yet another kiss, trailing down your body, making you squirm, not listening in the slightest, for he was far too distracted, focused on you before him. He would never tire of the sight, thanking his lucky stars.

Finally, after years of yearning and pining when you’re joined, it’s a bliss, unlike anything you’ve known. You stifled a moan at the feeling, Benedict brushing a stray hair from your eyes, trapping you against him. “Love, I want to hear you, alright? Can you do that for me?” Your eyes widened at the request but when he moves against you, pleasure filling every fiber of your body you cry his name to the heavens.

Oh, how he loved it the soft whimpers, you begging for more and your name sounding just as sweet and sinful falling from his parted lips, swollen from your nipping and kissing. You want the moment to last for oblivion yet when you both lose yourself to your bliss, delirium hits and you pulled him closer in your arms, his face resting in the crook of your neck, the bed and sheets in disarray. You smirked to yourself more than pleased with the outcome.

He continued to kiss your neck, nuzzling more, your hands stroking his curls. “I love you, Benedict.”

“I love you more, my love.”

“I’ll love you forever.”

“How about eternity?” He intertwines your hand with his own, kissing your ring finger. “Will you marry me?”

Your heart thrummed erratically but warmed at his loving gaze full of joy, hope, and wonder. It was a face you wanted to wake up with a kiss and love for all your days.

“Yes, Benedict, a thousand times yes.”

The smile that shot across his face kickstarted your heart and he kissed you for the thousandth time of the evening, not that you were complaining. For you have an eternity to kiss, love, and be loved by him. You settled against his chest, his embrace warm and reassuring, his hands settling on your belly soft and warm, while you drift off to sleep of bliss thinking only of Benedict and what the future holds.

******

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