#I have no idea how to draw guns either

[blobitech]

Tonight I give you unauthorized fucking thing!! I plan to post more art here and like self indulgent stuff hfuhsvsb🩷🩷 pls stay tuned !!!🩷🩷🩷

[rinchdressing]

klapollo week day 7: aa4 sequel

[federthenotsogreat]

Fawful Month day 17: 🍭Sweet Dreams

"Good night. Fawful is wishing you dreams of sweetness!"

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Skin You With My Tongue

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Alexandria

Warnings: Poorly written smut, p in v, fingering, oral (fem rec), brief hand job

Summary: What has gotten into Daryl? It doesn’t matter because you like it!

A/N: I haven’t been feeling great but I wanted to finish this before taking a break. Then I’ll work on my last request. Once again, I don’t think it’s great but ah well. I’m trying to just be thankful to be writing again. I hope some enjoyment comes from it!

*gif is not mine

You had no idea how you’d ended up in your current predicament: flat on your back, naked, with an equally naked Daryl Dixon devouring you like a man starved. You weren’t complaining by any stretch of the imagination. Though he had claimed to have little experience, the man deserved medals for the sounds he was wringing out of you with his tongue.

Anyway, back to the question of how did you end up here?

The day had started like any other. Your group was still new to Alexandria. While most had been given jobs, you and Daryl had not yet been set to work by Deanna. So, Rick had easily agreed to letting you both go hunt. Daryl had refused to give up his crossbow when you had first arrived in the community, but you had to sign out a weapon.

“Bullshit.” Daryl growled from where he leaned against the doorframe of the armory. You couldn’t say that you didn’t agree with him.

Regardless, you played by the rules, got your gun, strapped the weapons to the back, and climbed onto Daryl’s bike. He had decided the two of you could go further out today, not having much luck the past couple of days in the direct vicinity.

Daryl was your closest friend in your tight knit group and had been since you all had been forced to wander around in the cold before the prison. He was difficult to read and his emotional walls were high and thick. Somehow, you had been able to scale those walls, if not shatter them completely. You accepted him without question but you didn’t take any shit from him either. You weren’t afraid to call him out. In fact, the first time he had willingly come to sit next to you by the fire was just after you had asked him if he was “violating the Georgia sodomy law by having his head that far up his own ass.” You’d been close ever since.

You wrapped your arms tightly around his stomach and rested your chin on his shoulder, making kissy noises at him when he glanced back at you.

“Stop.” He grumbled before starting up the motorcycle. You simply gave his midsection a squeeze and could practically feel him roll his eyes as you headed through the gate.

The first part of the day was uneventful. Daryl stashed the bike before you walked and walked, finding nothing to track. About midday, the two of you came across a gorgeous lake. The water was clear and having only crossed two walkers on your trek there, you decided that a swim was an excellent idea after lunch. You didn’t ask Daryl, truly figuring he wouldn’t mind and that, hell, maybe he’d even join you.

You didn’t look at him as you stripped down to your bra and panties, mismatched as they were. If you had, you would have seen him comically fumble and drop the piece of dried meat in his hand.

“The blue hell ya doin’, girl?” He snapped after righting himself.

“Cooling off.” You gave him a smile over your shoulder before mimicking his frown with added exaggeration. “Maybe you should do the same, you old grump.”

He scoffed, keeping his eyes averted. “You’re bein’ careless. Careless gets ya dead.”

“I’m not going in unprotected!” You spun toward him, drawing his gaze toward you before pointing to the small knife tucked securely between your breasts. You couldn’t help but laugh when his face reddened and he looked away so quickly that you could swear you heard his neck crack. “I won’t be long.”

And you weren’t. Barely twenty minutes later, you were sitting down next to him, fully clothed albeit damp, but feeling much better.

“Ready to head out?” You asked cheerfully.

He did not share your enthusiasm, scowling as he stood and secured his crossbow to his back. “Been ready.”

“Well, aren’t you just a bucket of sunshine?” He had already stalked off by the time you gathered up everything. You had to sprint to catch up.

After a couple of hours, Daryl finally caught the trail of a deer and began tracking it. You followed quietly, watching his methods and learning everything you could. You knew how to hunt, thanks to him, but you were always eager to sharpen your skills. When the animal was finally within sight, the archer kneeled after signaling for you to stand still just beside him. He was lining up the shot when something caught his eye to the right of where you stood.

“Get down!” He whispered sharply, grabbing your arm and pulling. The sudden jerk caught you off guard and you were thrown off balance, crashing into him. He fell flat on his back with you on top, your palms on either side of his head with your chest almost directly in his face. With half a dozen walkers shuffling into the area, you couldn’t move lest you be detected.

The deer sensed the danger and ran, the group of undead following mindlessly. As they passed where you and Daryl hid, you instinctively lowered, feeling his breath against your shirt. It took several minutes for the threat to move far enough away that you felt comfortable to lift yourself up and sit back, effectively placing your ass on his stomach.

“Well, that sucks. That was a big doe.” You complained. When he didn’t comment, you looked at him. He was propped up on his elbows, looking anywhere but at you. His face and neck were flushed all the way to the tips of his ears. “You okay?” You queried with general concern.

“M’fine. Can ya get offa me?”

“Oh. Right.” You stood quickly, as did he. His back was quickly turned to you.

“We’re done. Let’s go.”

Your head tilted, brow creased in confusion. “We’ve got hours of daylight left. Shouldn’t we—”

“Said we’re done.” He was already walking away, leaving you staring at his back and wondering what you’d done wrong.

The ride back was tense and silent. You even chose to just lightly place your hands below his ribs and keep some space between your bodies instead of how you would usually have a tight hold on him.

When you entered Alexandria, Daryl parked the bike and got off, leaving you there, confused and more than a little upset. He passed Rick by without a word, the former sheriff turning to look at you with an eyebrow cocked. You gave him a shrug.

“I have no idea.” Shaking your head, you grabbed the gun from where it was secured to the back and went to sign it in before returning to the home you shared with Daryl and Carol. He was nowhere to be found on the first floor, leaving you to assume he had retreated to his room in the basement. With a heavy sigh, you went upstairs to shower.

Evening was upon you before you knew it, the sun having only set a few minutes before Carol invited you to walk to the other house for dinner with the group. You weren’t feeling all that hungry so you told her you’d be there in a few minutes. It was a lie. You had no intention of leaving your room.

Turning over onto your side, you closed your eyes. You had just drifted off when there came another knock. “Ugh.” You groaned and threw back the blankets, remaining in just your tank top and underwear since you didn’t plan on leaving with her. “Carol, I really don’t—” Once the door opened, you screeched to a halt, meeting the impossibly blue eyes of your favorite bowman. “Daryl.” You blinked at him blankly.

“Hi.” He nearly whispered. “Can I, uh—?” He gave a vague motion toward the inside of your room.

“Right. Uh, yeah, right, sure.” You stammered while stepping aside. He stepped in and you turned to push the door closed, a gasp leaving your mouth when you felt him press himself against your back. “D-Daryl?”

“First, the lake. Then your tits in my face when the walkers came. An’ now—this?” His finger was tracing the outline of your panties over your hip.

“What? I didn’t—”

He growled, a low sound in his throat, as he spun you around and pressed you back against the door with his body. He grabbed your chin to force your gaze on him.

“Didn’t what? G’on. Tell me.”

“Daryl, I didn’t mean anything by any of that.” You gulped, though you weren’t afraid. Exactly the opposite. Heat and wetness was pooling at your core, your skin feeling electrified where he was touching you. Nevertheless, you couldn’t lie to him. “I really wasn’t trying to fuck with you, I swear.”

There was an instant change in his eyes and it broke your heart. He released you with a muttered “shit,” his hand rubbing at the back of his neck. The dim light of your bedside lamp was enough for you to see his face reddening and the slight tremble to his frame.

“Y/N, I—fuck—m’sorry.” He quickly attempted to sidestep you and reached for the doorknob, but you were faster and blocked his path. His head shot up, eyes wide and panicked. He had absolutely misread the day’s happenings but he wasn’t wrong on one thing.

“I wasn’t intentionally fucking with you.” You repeated, your tongue snaking out to wet your lips before you continued. “But I would have if I had known it’d end with you here like this.” His arm dropped away from the knob and you entered into his space, pressing your chest against him to hover your lips over his. “I’ve wanted you for so long, Daryl Dixon.”

And now you were here.

“Fuuuuck!” You moaned, pressing the back of your head into the pillow before raising it to look down at the man between your thighs. Your fingers twisted and tugged his hair as your hips rolled, grinding your cunt against his tongue. Daryl growled against your clit, the sound vibrating against the swollen nub. His large hands pressed down on your inner thighs, holding you open while also effectively rendering you immobile.

A whine slipped past your lips when his tongue once again pressed tightly against you, sweeping up and down before he closed his lips around the bundle of nerves and sucked. You tried to lift your hips but he pressed down harder, his nails biting into your skin. He removed his mouth from you, dark eyes glaring from just above your mound.

“Be still.”

His gravelly voice was even lower, darkened with lust and demand. You found you couldn’t help but obey. Breathing through your nose, you nodded eagerly. He kept his gaze locked on your face while his right hand lifted from your thigh, fingertips whispering over your flesh to dance down to your core. He ran a single digit through your slick once…twice, never breaking eye contact.

Your hands left his hair and fisted into the sheets of your bed, but otherwise, you remained frozen in place, panting through the pleasure of stretching around his middle finger breaching your opening. He slid in to the first knuckle, then the second, pausing only briefly before pushing in all the way. The sound that left your throat was positively sinful. You dropped your head back to the pillow and focused on not moving.

“Good girl.” He praised you, rewarding you by drawing his digit almost all the way out before sinking back inside, thus beginning a steady rhythm of which he continued. When you remained unmoving, he lowered his head once again to lavish attention onto your clit.

Who was this man? This was a completely new Daryl. In control, demanding, vocal, and positively panty-dropping. A new part of him for you to accept and adore. A part of him that, to your knowledge, only you had seen. One that you definitely hoped you would see again and again!

“Daryl, fuck!” You cried out when his index finger joined the first. You shivered almost violently when you felt him smile against your pussy.

“In a minute.” He purred, pumping into you faster.

Your hands moved from the sheets to the headboard, palms flat to keep the thrusts of his hand from pushing you upward. The moans and cries were constant, his mouth and fingers igniting a fire low in your belly. The knot was twisting tighter and tighter, and you grit your teeth when you felt the sparks of it begin to shoot down to your toes and up into your chest.

“Nngh, Daryl! I’m—” You panted, eyes screwed shut and legs trembling. He curled his fingers, driving them against that soft spot inside you mercilessly while his tongue and teeth tortured your clit. Just when you thought you might die from the pleasure of it all, that knot in your belly pulled taunt and snapped. Wave after wave of euphoria traveled through you, broken moans of his name tumbling from your lips like a mantra. You had grabbed his hair again at some point, holding him against your center with your thighs attempting to trap him there. He didn’t seem to mind, too busy eagerly lapping at the nectar you spilled while riding your high.

When you went limp against the mattress, he pulled his fingers from within you, leaving you to whine at the emptiness they left behind. You were still pulsing with the aftershocks of your orgasm when he pressed one last kiss against your sensitive clit before sitting up on his knees. You blinked away the haze in your vision to watch him suck on those two fingers that had just fucked you senseless, your juices still glistening on his face.

You weren’t sure what came over you but you dove forward almost clumsily while he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. He caught you easily with the other arm and pulled you against his chest, your arms encircling his neck to pull his lips to yours. The kiss was desperate, all tongues and teeth. The absolute need to be close to him in that moment was something you couldn’t explain. When you pulled back to look at him, your pupils blown wide and lips swollen, it was as if he understood before your sex-addled brain could form any words.

“I gotcha, girl.” Daryl said softly, a contradiction to how he had commanded you only moments prior. You nodded and let him kiss you again. It was tender this time, slow and deliberate. The archer began to lay you back. He caught himself with one arm while the other stayed behind your head to control your descent until you were once again on the pillows.

His mouth left yours and began to roam across your jaw. He nuzzled his cheek against yours in a way that you found absolutely adorable but then he was pressing open-mouthed kisses below your ear. Large hands traveled to your chest to cup both of your breasts, calloused fingers exploring the supple mounds before settling to roll your pebbled nipples between them. He kissed his way down, that sinful mouth eager to take over worshiping that part of you.

“Daryl,” you gasped, arching up into him when his mouth closed around your right nipple, “mmmm, Daryl, please!” You could feel his erection against your thigh, hot and hard and yet completely ignored. “Please—” you tried again, the plea coming out more like a pathetic whine.

“I know whatcha want.” He murmured against the skin between your breasts. He latched onto your left nipple with his teeth while his left hand took over stimulating the right. “Whatcha need.” You did the only thing you could and twisted your fingers into his hair, drawing your bottom lip in between your teeth with a quiet whimper. His touch left you suddenly and you opened your eyes to find him directly above you and lowering down until his lips were just barely touching yours. “But I wantcha to say it anyway.” You felt every syllable against your mouth, the simple action enough to make your cunt clench around nothing. Goddamn, this man knew how to play your body like an instrument.

His fingers were ghosting down your left side only for his hand to maneuver between your bodies. Grasping his cock, he slid it through your folds, gathering your juices in agonizingly slow strokes. Each time the tip of him grazed your clit, your back arched from the mattress with a cry on your lips.

“Say it.”

“I want you, Daryl.” You whined, anchoring your legs around his hips. You dug your heels into the skin just below his ass in a desperate attempt to pull him into you. Too bad he was much stronger than you.

He hummed in response but only began to stroke himself, spreading your slick along his shaft. “Tell me whatcha want me to do, girl.”

You couldn’t take it anymore. You were going to literally combust if he wasn’t inside you at that moment. You weaved your arms underneath his and pulled at him. “Fuck me, Daryl. Please, please, fuck me!”

He chuckled. The asshole actually chuckled but you didn’t care because he then immediately entered you in one fluid motion, burying himself to the hilt. His arms nearly gave out as your wet heat welcomed him, stretching and molding to his cock as if your body was made just for him. He groaned, dropping his head to your shoulder but you were too far gone to notice. The pleasurable burn of accommodating him brought you to new heights. You almost came right on the spot.

“Fuck.” He breathed against your neck, fighting to keep himself in check.

After you both had a moment, Daryl pushed himself up onto his forearms, drawing back his hips slowly before snapping forward and earning a broken moan from you. The feeling of him moving inside you was overwhelming, the push and pull driving every thought from your mind to leave only the ability to feel. And you wanted more.

You clawed at his back, each thrust forward tearing a cry from your throat. You barely registered that his mouth was on yours, but responded immediately, craving the taste of him. The smoke and pine mingled with the taste of your cunt on his tongue and you couldn’t get enough. You swallowed his delectable moan when your hips came up to meet this thrusts, the sound of wet skin slapping echoing off the walls of your room. Bringing a hand to his hair, you pulled his head back, pussy clenching when the action made him hiss between his teeth.

Teeth met his skin, biting down just above his collar bone. The salty taste brought a moan into your throat. You marked him there, sucking hard until you brought blood to the surface and then you released him. “You—feel so good.” You panted before your mouth was back on his. He pulled back suddenly and you whined at the loss of his weight but then he was sitting back on his knees, grabbing your hips and fucking into you so hard that you saw stars. It was just on the good side of painful, your cunt spasming around his cock as the familiar heat began to build in your belly.

Daryl didn’t stay that way way long. He released your hips and leaned forward to use the headboard as leverage, pounding you with such force that you again had to brace yourself with your palms. Your cries mixed with his moans and grunts and you prayed that Carol was still away. The angle was intense, each thrust had his tip pressing roughly against your sweet spot, building your pleasure at a pace you wished would slow.

“Daryl, I’m—I’m gonna—” you couldn’t get the words out between breaths and moans, but he knew from the way you tightened around him that you were nearing the precipice. And he was determined to throw you over the edge first.

He released the headboard and grabbed your arms, yanking you up while he sat back on his heels. You grabbed for his shoulders and then encircled his neck, resting one hand on the back of his head and the other on his shoulder blade. He moved his hands to your hips, helping you to bounce on him, spearing yourself on his cock and driving it deeper. Your moans became pleas and then a chant of his name, mouth hanging agape between words and breaths and eyes screwed shut.

“Cum for me.” He grunted against your jaw and that was all it took. You were almost certain you screamed but you couldn’t hear it, vision blacking out as euphoria swallowed you. You came back to yourself as the waves began to ebb, Daryl continuing to fuck you through. Your body felt heavy and uncoordinated and you pulled back a bit to clumsily seek out his mouth, greedily drinking down each sound he offered as he chased his own release. His grip on your hips would leave bruises, but you couldn’t find it in you to care.

His movements grew sloppy and you could feel him beginning to twitch and pulse inside you. You pulled your mouth from his and watched him until he pulled you from his lap. You moved quickly, aware of his actions, and wrapped your hand around him, pumping him fast and hard. He pressed his forehead against yours, his hands gripping your thighs while he fought to breathe through the sensation. His teeth were clenched and his eyes tightly closed, sweat shining on his skin and you were sure it was the sexiest thing you had ever seen.

Half a dozen more strokes before you twisted your hand and he cried out, muscles freezing and face contorting into a grimace of pure ecstasy. He breathed out your name, hips jerking and ropes of cum painting your hand and both of your thighs. No, that was the sexiest thing you had ever seen.

You pulled his mouth to yours before he could come all the way down, relishing each twitch of his muscles. When you pulled away, he finally opened his eyes and swayed on the spot. He seemed dazed but when his gaze met yours, he leaned forward to kiss you. It was gentle, almost hesitant. As if he didn’t know whether or not you’d welcome it.

“That was amazing.” You whispered, finally catching your breath.

“Yeah.” He replied quietly.

You brought a hand to the side of his face, watching all the courage melt away. His already flushed face was growing impossibly redder. You couldn’t help but smile. He had been dominant and commanding only to morph right back into the Daryl you had fallen in love with.

Your eyes widened.

Shit.

You were in love with him.

You were actually in love with Daryl.

You didn’t move when he got up to grab a towel, slipping on his boxers while he was at it. You still didn’t move as he cleaned you up, his mouth moving once he was done but no sound registering. He snapped his fingers in front of your face and you flinched.

“What’d you say?”

“Ya okay?” His brow was drawn inward in concern. He looked so, so nervous and you just wanted to pull him onto the bed and hold him.

“Yeah, I’m great.” You beamed.

He nodded and worried his bottom lip between his teeth, glancing over at his clothes. “Guess I should go.”

Your face fell as he reached for his pants. “Why?” Daryl froze and looked at you, head tilted. “You could stay. Here. With me.” You offered, your own face reddening. He stayed in the awkward position of halfway reaching toward his shirt but was obviously considering your words.

“Ya want me to stay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I really do.” You smiled sincerely. He nodded and straightened, coming back around to the other side of the bed. He sat stiffly against the headboard, chewing his lip again. You started to lean against him when there came a soft knock at the door. You both looked up and then at one another.

Busted.

You both scrambled to get dressed and it would have been comical had you not been thinking of who could be on the other side of the door. Carol. Rick. Michonne. Oh god, Carl! You looked back at him just as he pulled his shirt over his head, an apologetic expression on your face. Turning the knob and pulling the door open, you smiled innocently at—

No one.

“What the—” You leaned out and looked down each hall to find them empty. However, at your feet were two wrapped plates of food. One with a note addressed to Daryl and the other to you. In Carol’s handwriting.

You looked around for the woman once more while picking up the plates and stepped back into the room, kicking the door shut. Eyebrows raised, you crossed the space to hand Daryl his and then placed yours on the bed, removing the note and unfolding it.

“Good for you. Now tell him that you love him.”

You almost laughed but held it, simply folding your note and putting it in your bedside drawer. Daryl was looking at his own with a raised brow before he folded it and put it in his pocket.

“M’starvin’.” He announced, plopping onto your bed while unwrapping his food. He watched you smile and follow suit, gaze lingering just a moment longer than necessary.

His note?

“Don’t be stupid, Pookie. She loves you too.”

[summercourtship]

WASTE NOT (18+)

or, the reader is travelling with the Ghoul when he discovers she's never fucked before. You figure out what comes next.

cooper howard/the ghoul x reader | warnings/notes: loss of virginity, masturbation, exhibitionism, piv sex, oral sex, barely proofread | side note: i might end up reusing this general plot for a longer multi-chapter fic, we'll see

read on AO3

Five hundred caps, two hundred upfront.

That’s how much it took for you to get out of the gilded cage that was your hometown, a decent sized settlement inside of what used to be a Rodeo stadium and aptly named for it. That’s all it took for you to escape your father, the mayor of said town who kept you under lock and key, both literally and figuratively. You’d tried to escape before, attempts that had been thwarted before they even began. It only led to you being locked in your room and only allowed to walk the town with a bodyguard, someone hired to make sure you didn’t run for it. 

Some people might say that it was a privilege to be cared for so much that you didn’t have to constantly fight for your life. You thought it was a surefire way to get you killed when you finally did leave his grasp.

Since running away, you’d done many things for the first time that most people did before they were even ten years old. Held a gun, caught your own food, killed a man. 

And the man you’d paid to take you through the wastes was the first ghoul you’d ever met. Your settlement didn’t ban them from entering, but they weren’t exactly welcoming either. But you’d been immediately drawn to him, which you at first chalked up to the novelty of meeting a new kind of person, the kind you’d only read about.

However, as you’d continued traveling with him and the novelty wore off, you quickly realized that the draw you felt to him wasn’t just because of culture shock. 

The Ghoul, which was the only thing you called him because he’d given you nothing else to call him, was sitting by the fire he’d built, a slow curl of smoke drifting from the cigarette hanging in his mouth. You looked over at him, observing how the light from the flames reflected off of his worn and imperfect skin. It was a sight you’d seen almost every night this week, but every time you felt like it was the first time you were seeing him. 

Your week was almost up. When you’d hired him, you’d told him you only wanted to leave your town for a week, just to experience the Wastes before returning to your “ivory tower,” (his words, not yours). It had taken some bargaining on your end (and you had to give him chems in addition to the caps) but it had worked. You were out of the clutches of your father, you were finally experiencing life for the first time.  

And you had no intention of going back when the week was over. 

You were sitting across the room, perched on an old bed that was still standing in the half-ruined house, though shack might be more accurate. An entire wall was missing, letting you look right into the starry night sky from your seat. But mainly you were looking at the Ghoul, who was looking after one of his guns. You brought the drink you’d been nursing- just a Nuka-Cola you’d found on your journey and saved for this moment- taking a deep sip of the fizzy drink when he spoke up. 

“Stop starin’ at me.” 

You choked, sputtering up the Nuka-Cola in your attempt to catch your breath. In your coughing, you only managed to spill more of the drink on yourself, an unfortunate chain of events that left you with a soaked through shirt. You cursed under your breath, looking down at the brown liquid that would surely stain the fabric. Did you even have a clean replacement in your bag?

Leaning towards your bag, you placed the almost empty bottle on the floor before flipping the flap, peering inside. 

“You might wanna take that off before the flies smell the sugar.”

Your current task forgotten, you stared up at the Ghoul, who wasn’t even looking at you when he said it. But the idea of taking your shirt off around him when you knew that he could see it was terrifying. However, he was right when he said you’d need to get the shirt off of your body soon and put it into your bag. Who knows how much sugar was in Nuka-Cola, how far its sweet scent would travel if it was out in the open. And you certainly didn’t want to attract any bugs your way. 

Sitting up straight, you cleared your throat. Your fingers worried at the hem of your shirt.

“Could you turn around…” Your voice trailed off at the look on his face, a brief glance your way. 

“It’s nothing I ain’t seen on other women.” 

“Okay, but I’ve never-” You stopped yourself from finishing your sentence, realizing exactly what you were admitting, but the damage was already done. The Ghoul leaned forward and you tightened your grip around yourself, as if the shirt still being on your body would protect you from his judgment. 

“You’ve never…?” The pregnant pause hung in the air between you, but you weren’t going to clarify. You didn’t move, which must have been enough of a confirmation for him because he whistled low in his mouth. “Why am I not surprised? You didn’t even know how to shoot a gun.”

As if shooting a gun naturally came before losing your virginity. (Maybe it did, you wouldn’t know). 

“Can you stop?” You huffed, your face hot. “If I had wanted to, I would have.”

But it seemed that any of your attempts to get him to drop the subject wouldn’t work, because he was looking at you intensely, an unreadable look in his surprisingly human eyes. Not for the first time, you wondered what he looked like when he was human. You’d tried before, to imagine what it looked like when his skin was smooth and he had a nose and hair, but nothing seemed to match his demeanor as well as being a ghoul did. 

“And why didn’t you want to?”

“I-” You swallowed nervously, your heartbeat in your throat choking you. “I didn’t see the point, not when my dad is probably going to marry me off to some geezer who can’t get it up anyway. And I don’t need your judgment about it.”  

You were now trying to hold onto any semblance of dignity you had left. Pretending like you’d made a conscious choice to not lose your virginity instead of it being a result of your virtual imprisonment by your father. Like you hadn’t yearned for the touch of someone else. (And, of course, like you hadn’t yearned at all for him over the course of the past week.)

“Do you touch yourself, at least?”

You froze, looking across the room at him like he was a Deathclaw. He leaned forward, perching his elbows on his knees. Like he could smell your apprehension, or worse, your burgeoning arousal. 

“Do you touch yourself?”

This isn't something you had talked about ever with anyone. But you couldn’t help answering him. “Y-yes.” If he looked surprised that you actually spoke, you couldn’t tell over your own embarrassment. 

“Show me.” When you didn’t respond, still sitting there staring at him like he had grown two heads, he sat back in his seat again, his hat dipping low. “Or don’t. I’m not going to force-”

You cut him off before he could continue, suddenly not wanting this opportunity to pass you by. After all, you only had this last night with him and then you would go your separate ways. If you horribly embarrassed yourself, it would only be for tonight. “Okay.” You think that this is your biggest streak of surprising the Ghoul. But he recovered quickly, a sly grin sneaking onto his face. 

“Take your shirt off first.” 

Nodding, you slowly reached down to the hem of your shirt, trying and failing to will your hands to stop trembling. Then, quickly, you peeled the sticky fabric off of your skin. You were a bit annoyed that you had managed to spill so much onto the shirt- it was a nice shirt, a rare find on the surface. But it didn’t matter now, considering where it had led you. 

You dropped your shirt onto the floor, unable to look at him as he surely looked at your chest. 

Suddenly feeling bold from his gaze, you did more than just take off the glorified rag from your chest- you divested yourself of all of your clothes, placing them into a messy pile by the mattress. You were now exposed to the elements and to his gaze, heavy as he looked over your body. Once again, he didn’t betray any of the surprise he might have felt. 

“Should I-”

“Lie down.”

You stared at him before you slowly lowered yourself, trying to keep your eyes on him. When you couldn’t anymore, you closed your eyes. If you couldn’t see him, it wouldn’t be nerve wracking to be watched. But even as you thought it, you could feel the heat of his gaze on you. 

“Touch yourself.” 

At his surprisingly gentle command, you exhaled shakily. Gently, you dragged your hand down your body, your breath quick. After a moment of teasing yourself, you pressed the pads of two fingers against your clit, rubbing a slow circle against the sensitive bundle of nerves. 

Immediately, you sighed, relieving tension you didn’t know had been building. While you had masturbated every night at home, you certainly needed the relief it gave you after a week of stress and almost dying. You were surprisingly wet, though not enough to qualify as dripping. your fingers circled your clit, your hips sudden bucking slightly. 

Across from you, the Ghoul groaned, and you tilted your head up, looking at him. His eyes were entirely focused on your cunt, watching the wet slide of your fingers over your folds. His teeth were clenched together, and you gasped at the sight of him watching you so intently before you bit your lip to muffle the sound. Then his eyes moved from your fingers, looking you straight in the eyes as he started to speak.

“I bet you touched yourself all quiet, trying not to let daddy hear you fucking yourself. But your daddy ain’t here, and I want to hear the noises you make.”  

You whined, his words going straight to your cunt. What was more painful was that he was correct- many nights you’d bit your pillow as you’d fucked yourself with your fingers, trying to keep quiet. 

“Go ahead, slip a finger inside-“

You stopped moving, looking at him again, taking the moment to catch your breath. 

“I’ve never really done that-“

The Ghoul cursed, and before you could blink he was off of his chair, moving closer. He was now knelt in between your legs, his gloved hands on your knees and staring up at you. 

“I gotta fuckin teach you everything, don’t I?”

Swiftly, he removed his gloves, throwing them onto the pile of your clothes. Then he swatted your hand away from your cunt before replacing it with his own fingers. At the dramatic shift in skin texture you gasped, immediately grinding against his rough fingers mindlessly as your hands flew to your mouth to muffle your cries. 

“None of that, I told you I’m gonna hear the sounds you’re making ‘cause of me.”

He moved down your body, pressing kisses and delivering brief bites to your flesh. With each nip of his teeth you gasped, torn between the desire to push his head away or beg for more. Then he reached your sex, pausing for a moment and letting his warm breath fan over you. You squirmed, unsure if you wanted to beg him to touch you or if you wanted to run away from the sheer overwhelming intensity of it all.

Then his mouth was hot against you, his tongue licking a thick stripe up the length of your cunt, and you wondered why you’d ever thought about not letting him do this. With no nose in the way, he was able to press his face fully against you. He dipped his tongue into your opening, flicking it against your walls and thrusting a few times, the movement of his tongue in addition to his fingers overwhelming. 

He groaned against you as he lapped up your wetness, sounds of a man dying of thirst reaching an oasis. 

With a final wet sound, he removed his tongue before moving to suck on your clit, his hand moving from your thighs to return to your core. 

“Fuck, you’re tight.” He murmured as he pressed two of his fingers inside of you. You’d tried before to fuck your self like this but always found the feeling unsatisfactory. But his fingers were larger than yours, able to hit the places inside of you that you had begun to think were myths. 

It was overpowering, and any thoughts that weren’t about him quickly dissipated. 

Every indent and ridge of his skin dragged along your cunt and the sensation of being filled combined with the attention he was giving to your clit started to build you towards your peak. 

“Come for me, cmon.”

But even though you’d never come before at the hands of another, you knew what you wanted. You were afraid that if you came now, he wouldn’t actually fuck you. And if you were taken back to your rinky-dink town, you wanted to at least say you’d been fucked by someone you wanted. 

“I want to feel you- hm- inside me.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.” His teeth were gritted together again, like he was so entirely focused on making you come that he didn't want to hear anything else.

“Yes, I do.” You raised your hips to meet the thrust of his fingers. “I want your cock, I need you to fuck me-“

“Fuck.” He murmured, eyes lidded as whatever shaky resolve about actually fucking you he had broke. “For someone who never killed before this week, you’re dangerous.”

With swift movement, he pulled himself out of his pants and climbed up your body, pressing his hips against yours. He hovered above you, the head of his cock rested heavy on your clit, his hips rolling once to grind the length against your wet cunt. 

“Please.” You murmured, raising your hips to meet his cock. He gave you a dark look, and if he had eyebrows you’re sure one of them would be raised as if to say ‘you ready?’

Then he started to press in, his thick head catching before he pushed through the tight ring of your opening. Your mouth was slack, eyebrows furrowed as you focused on relaxing for every inch that was slowly pressing into you. When you looked at him, he was entirely focused on watching his cock disappear into your wet heat. 

He was slow, but you didn’t think it was due to any care for your comfort. No, from the look on his face, you would hazard a guess that he enjoyed slowly taking your virginity, feeling each inch of you give way to his thick cock. He liked the surrender. 

When his hips finally nestled against yours, he rested for a moment, his breath heavy. 

“Ready?”

Okay, maybe he cares slightly about your comfort- the thought was quickly erased when he pulled out and slammed back in, filling you quickly. You cursed, your hands flying to the bed to scramble for something to hold on to. But there were no sheets on the filthy mattress. So instead, you reached up to him, grasping the back of his duster for dear life as he began to fuck you in earnest.

He lowered himself as you wrapped your naked legs around his hips, bracing himself on his elbows above you. 

“So fucking tight.” He murmured against your face. One of his hands slipped from where it was braced above you to circle around your clit, the pressure just enough to send you back towards your peak. “This cunt belongs to me now, y’hear?”

“Yes- fuck.” You babbled, and when he whispered against you to finally come, you did so with no hesitation. Your legs gripped him tighter against you, his thrusts shorter but more forceful with the constraint. With your cunt clenching around him as you sighed through the aftershocks of your orgasm, he removed his hand to suddenly grab your chin, looking you in the eyes.

“Where should I-“

“Inside me, inside me please.”

For a moment he looked like he was going to argue with you. But then you clenched down on his length again and his hips stuttered against you, a low groan escaping him. Reinvigorated, he began fucking you even harder, which had seemed impossible. 

“Take it, take my cum like a good girl- that’s it-“ his words left him as he finally finished, his hips pumping as he cursed and spilled his warm spend inside you. You hummed at the feeling of it, the tiny thrusts as he pumped you full of him dragging his cock along your sensitive walls. 

When he finally pulled out of you, watching as his cum dripped out of your opening, he looked back at your face with a sly smile. 

“I hope you have some RadAway at home.”

____

The Ghoul didn’t bring you back into the city. He seemed to think you were experienced enough to handle the last hundred yards of desert without him. I’ll come back later for the rest of my caps, I have some business I need to deal with. Did you feel a little bad that you were cheating him out of three hundred caps? Yes. But you hadn’t thought this far when you’d paid him the first time, and now it was too late. 

You barely said goodbye. 

Once you were out of sight, you took off running in the opposite direction, only looking behind you once to make sure no one was watching or worse, following. 

You were free.

____

Well, you were free for about two days. 

Then, one evening, you sheltered yourself in an abandoned house. Two stories, though you only peeked in the upper story to see if there was anything worth grabbing. You didn’t want to risk the floor falling out from under your feet. 

A noise in the doorway draws your attention upwards, to where the Ghoul stands, silhouetted in the setting sun, like he had just left for a second, not for days.

You’re allowed a split moment of happiness at the sight of the familiar figure before you recognize what's in his hands. You barely have a second to try and escape before, like a flash, he whips the lasso around your torso, drawing it tight and pulling you closer as you struggled against the rope. But it held fast, and with every passing second you were losing ground. Finally the pressure of the rope was too much and you collapsed to the ground, the sun bearing down in your eyes until a shadow fell over your face. 

“Y’know, when I went back to your little… Rod-e-o to collect on the final portion of my payment, I really expected to see you there. Tellin’ people you regret ever leaving. Maybe I’d have to rough you up a bit for the caps, though I’m sure you’d enjoy that. So imagine my surprise when I find out your father has put up a reward for whoever finds ya and brings ya back.”  He laughed, a cruel and humorless thing. “I’ll get paid for takin’ you out and takin’ you in. And the word around town is that there’s a man there willin’ to take you off your father’s hands.” 

His last words made your stomach sink, more than anything else he had said. It was something your father had threatened, even if he hadn’t meant it as a threat. Maybe he thought it was your dream to marry and have children. But you knew that whatever man he picked for you to marry would be powerful, powerful enough to ensure that your father would remain in office until he died. 

And powerful men were cruel. 

“No-” You gasped out, suddenly out of breath. 

“Ah-ah-ah.” The Ghoul tuts softly, leaning down. “D’ya really think a week is enough experience to survive out here?”

“I won’t go back.” You spit, renewing your struggle against the rope. “You can’t make me.” 

If you were a complete idiot, you’d say: I’d rather die than go back. Because while, in spirit, it was true, you knew that he would take your word for it. And you really didn’t want to tempt him to put a bullet through your brain. 

You may have fucked him, but you certainly weren’t anything special to him. 

“You don’t have much of a choice, sweetheart.” 

“He wants to marry me off!” You said, like saying it indignantly would change his mind about taking you in as a bounty. “I refuse.” 

“And what’ll you do when I drag you back?” 

Find a way to escape again, even if it takes years. 

Like he read the answer in your eyes, he stood up straight. 

“I sympathize, I really do-” You sincerely doubted it, but let him keep talking, “but unless you’ve got something better to offer me, I’m afraid you’re going in.” 

“How many caps is he offering you?”

“600.”

“I have more saved.” You laughed, though it lacked any actual humor. “Every cap he gave me for years, I’ve squirreled away. Not letting me leave my room really helped me save money.” 

“And how, exactly, are you going to get to your stash without your daddy finding you?” 

You tried to find kindness in his words and were surprised when you did. Though he may not have meant it, he had already given you a perfect out the night before. 

“No self-respecting man is going to want to marry a woman who fucked a ghoul. And no mayor will tolerate his daughter making a fool of him like that.”

For a moment, you think he takes offense to this. But then a smile creeps across his face, hot and hungry.

“Well then, I think we can come to an agreement.” 

[cobaltperun]

Eternal Flame (3) - Scream

Cover by: @ortegalvr

Jenna Ortega x Female Reader

Summary: For her it’s a passion, for you it’s an accident. And as she continues shining brighter and brighter with each role you are left mesmerized, drawn to her flame and cherishing every time she lets herself be vulnerable with you.

Masterlist / First Part / Previous part / Next part

Word count: 2.8k

-Scream! When the fire burns me, when it's hard to break free-

This scene was going to be your undoing. Action scene? Perfectly done, easily done, but then this part. Where Ghostfaces had Tara and C/N captured? You just couldn’t get it right. Nothing felt right, either one of the Ghostface lines would get messed up, or someone would miss a que. Jenna’s voice broke once, and you were having issues getting into character as well, unable to get what C/N was feeling across.

And then it just clicked.

“Fuck you,” Jenna gritted out when Ghostface was meant to taunt Tara that C/N didn’t protect her and you felt the prop knife touching the left side of your back, prompting you to gasp for breath but not scream. You widened your eyes, acting like you were in shock and pain.

The focus was on Jenna as she expertly delivered the pain, the despair Tara felt as Ghostface told her she would need to shoot your character.

When the gun was pointed at you and Jenna whimpered you followed the cue and gasped, and while the camera focused on Jenna you quickly tossed the shirt you had on aside in favor of the more damaged one. You all wanted to do this in one take, so this was the solution.

"I'll do anything else, whatever you ask, just please not this!" you were amazed at how hoarse Jenna could make her voice. Not to mention all the emotional range she was showing right now. "Please, anything but this!"

The scene went on, uninterrupted, you felt like you had it, like this was the take you needed. "I don't know what you are screaming about, Tara. You got what you wanted right? You didn't kill Y/N," the words and the prop knife messing around Jenna’s bandaged hand were your signal.

You had no idea where it came from, but Jenna crying out pulled something out of you. “Stop that!” you raged, akin to a wild wounded beast, so intense it frightened even you and nearly made Jenna herself break the character. It wasn’t meant to sound that raw, but the scene continued.

She recovered, as great as she was, acting like she was having an asthma attack and you could see she researched it for days until she could get all the symptoms right.

“Tara!” and carried by the intensity of the previous scream you yelled, desperation you never felt before clear in your voice. It was a harrowing cry, of someone fearing the loss of their loved one, of the only person they had in the world. "You won! I can't fight back! Just let her go!"

And then, when it came the time to top even that, to escalate it even further, to have Jenna show Tara’s dedication to your character despite the asthma, she delivered. Jenna pleaded, her voice sounding like she was choking, drowning, unable to draw breath, yet just as desperate as you were. For a moment you even believed she was having an asthma attack, that was how good she was. The scene felt easy after that as you picked Jenna up, while faking that it was difficult and stepped back into the hospital room.

“Cut!” Tyler yelled and you dropped down onto the floor, emotionally drained from all the takes. The scene was supposed to go on a bit longer, but it looked like he had some mercy in him. “Great job! Jenna, Y/N, that was incredible. We’ll continue tomorrow, you both deserve to rest,” he said, before congratulating the rest of the crew present on the long day of work.

“Y/N?!” Jenna jumped to her feet from the bed, and you just gave her a thumbs up.

“I’m okay, just never had to film a scene that intense,” you gave her a slightly tired, but still reassuring smile and she relaxed, sitting back down on the bed, the exhaustion now present in her eyes as well. “And you’ve been doing intense scenes for years, damn, you’re amazing,” you got up and sat down next to her, before falling back onto the bed.

“I’m anything but amazing,” she dared to say and you abruptly sat up, in fact you sat up so quickly she turned and looked at you, her eyes wide as you watched her intensely.

“You are, and I’ll keep saying that until I get it into your head,” you promised, the tips of your fingers touching hers.

Jenna opened her mouth and then closed it, before finally regaining her composure. “Thanks, Y/N,” she muttered. “You’ll sleep really well tonight, you’ll see. Scenes like this are draining,” she promised, and you nodded, trusting her entirely. "And you were amazing as well," she spoke up, completely certain of her words.

"Happens every now and then," you grinned and she rolled her eyes, as if telling you: 'see, you do it too' but the fond smile on her face made your heart skip a beat.

~X~

Jenna was right, you just barely managed to get ready for bed. Hell, you were surprised you didn’t fall asleep on your feet. Your phone buzzed as you crawled under the covers and you nearly ignored it, but for some reason you reluctantly took it and saw it was a message on Instagram from Jenna.

Jenna Ortega: Hey, are you asleep?

Y/N L/N: Barely hanging on

Jenna Ortega: Oh, sorry, sleep well, Y/N.

That woke you up and you pressed the call button. It rang a few times and then she picked up. “Please go to sleep,” she opened with that and despite still being a bit sleepy you chuckled.

“Tell me what’s up?” you asked, sitting up so you wouldn’t fall asleep in the middle of the call.

“I just wanted to wish you good night,” for an actress she sucked at lying, and you just grinned.

“Jen, tell me what’s really going on?” you asked as you got comfortable.

She remained silent for a bit, before sighing. “I, I think I’m suffering from insomnia, I can’t fall asleep and I wasn’t sure who else to call. I don’t want to worry my family, and I just, I don’t know, I,” she huffed, frustrated, and you just gave her time, letting her sort her thoughts out. “We filmed so many scenes together, and I know you are tired, but I just impulsively sent that message. I was hoping you were already asleep,” she told you.

You nodded, too late realizing she couldn’t see you. “Do you want to talk? Maybe you’ll have easier time falling asleep like that?” you suggested, not really sure what would help with insomnia. You’d have to search that up tomorrow.

“You don’t mind?” she asked, prompting you to reassure her and tell her you definitely didn’t mind. “Tell me a bit about yourself? Something I don’t know? Like how did you get into cooking and martial arts?”

“Hm, let’s see. I spent a lot of my time at my neighbor’s house, playing with the siblings living there. Their mother was a great cook and would always make us snacks, either pastries or cookies, or cake, I never saw some of those recipes in my life. Well, it was natural, they emigrated from the Balkans decades ago, when she was a child if I remember correctly,” you began the tale of your childhood.

Jenna hummed, sounding a lot more interested than sleepy.

“I fell in love with the recipes, and she was willing to teach me. So, when I wasn’t playing with her children I’d learn how to cook from her, starting with easier things and gradually moving onto the various cakes and pastries. It was freeing, I needed to focus, I needed to be precise, to keep practicing so I could improve, and I guess I needed that at that age. Around the same time I began learning martial arts, pretty much for the same reason, and to find a better way to spend time,” and so you told her about your martial arts journey as well, about which martial arts you started with, about things you enjoyed, things you fond annoying, reasons you were passionate about them. And eventually, you caught the sound of Jenna’s breathing evening out. You still talked though, until you were sure she was in deep sleep.

“Sweet dreams, Jen,” you smiled and closed your eyes, letting the long-awaited sleep overtake your exhausted body.  

~X~

A few days later you were once again filming way out of order, going all the way to the end of the movie, or well, near the end.

“Are you okay with this scene?” you asked Jenna as the two of you sat in hair and makeup. Considering what the characters were going through makeup was mostly there to make both of you look more exhausted. You were alone so you took the chance to ask her.

Jenna looked at you and smiled as much as she could, but you could see a bit of worry in her eyes. “Of course, we already did a lot more than that,” she joked and well, you guessed that was one way to look at it.

You raised your fist up toward her and grinned, choosing not to comment on her worry. “If you feel uncomfortable at any moment, just tell me and I’ll get them to scrap it, say I don’t want to do it,” and you were completely serious.

Her eyes widened slightly as she looked you in the eyes. “You can’t do that, you’ll sound unprofessional,” she sounded more worried now, and it was not what you wanted to do. And she didn’t bump your fist, so you pulled it back, not noticing that she bit her lower lip a bit as you moved your fist away.

You shrugged. “I’d rather be unprofessional than have you feel uncomfortable,” there was no hesitation in your tone, no doubt, no wavering of your conviction. No matter what you felt like your priority was to have your costars be comfortable, now sure, you wouldn’t go up to the directors or writers and demand changes for any costar, but this was Jenna, and she, well in these past few weeks she became incredibly important to you. Important enough to act unprofessionally if needed.

You watched as Jenna looked down, a hint of a blush appearing on her cheeks as she refused to meet your eyes, but you could see a small, shy smile on her lips, proving to you that she did appreciate it.

“I’m comfortable with you,” she told you, finally meeting your eyes as more people came in.

~X~

This was it; this was the scene she was the most nervous about. She recently became a bit self-conscious about kiss scenes, she didn’t lie though. Jenna was truly comfortable with you, felt a connection she couldn’t deny, so strong and fast she almost didn’t want the shooting to wrap as soon as it would. You’d stay in touch, she had no doubt about that, but it always felt awful to separate without knowing if you’ll ever spend more time together or just see one another in passing.

You and she took your spots as the crew got ready to film, there weren’t as many people around, giving the two of you a bit more privacy for the scene. “Action!”

For once she didn’t black out, which was a strange experience, it made her feel more self-conscious, but she guessed it sold Tara’s uncertainty even better since no one was stopping her. She was to take the lead, your character not wanting to push Tara into anything. Funny how you took that approach with her as well, outside of your characters, outside of the movie, outside of being costars, and she did something unprofessional. She wasn’t reaching up with her right hand and touching C/N, she was touching your cheek.

You leaned into her touch, parting your lips slightly. “Tara,” you whispered, soft, protective, your voice filled with relief and love, exactly what was needed from you as you gently wrapped your arms around her shoulders and upper back, avoiding the injuries Tara was meant to have. Jenna hugged you, her right palm resting on the nape of your neck, tugging you lower as she placed her bandaged left hand on your back.

The question in your eyes, the one last chance for her to tell you she wasn’t comfortable, to back away, to quit being unprofessional was presented to her, yet she, against the script, ran her fingers through your hair, gently scratching the back of your head and raising her head. She kissed you, and for a moment she wasn’t Tara, she was herself, kissing you, and it scared her how right it felt, how soft your lips felt against hers. And under the lights and cameras filming the two of you she realized something she didn’t think would happen to her.

How easy it was to act with you, how easy it was to talk or randomly send you a text while she was getting ready for bed, how easy it was to forget herself and lean on you while watching a movie, before moving away, blushing madly only for you to nudge her a bit and close the distance so your shoulders would touch, a smile on your face telling her you didn’t mind. She had a crush on you. A tiny, still growing crush, but a crush nonetheless.

In the midst of the kiss, the soft and tender way your lips moved in sync, she remembered why this was happening, she remembered Tara was supposed to be in love with your character for years, that the kiss was meant to be hungrier, needier, raw and filled with emotion. That it was only meant to start soft, and she hummed into the kiss, channeling the desire Tara was meant to feel. The two of you parted for a second, with Jenna taking a noticeable breath and then kissing you again. She finally blacked out, letting Tara’s feelings take over. The kiss grew fiercer, more passionate, and that was when your part came in, to reign it in, prevent Tara from losing herself in the moment. And then you separated, breathing a bit labored as you pressed your forehead against hers and she leaned most of her weight on you.

“Cut! That was great you two!” Matt praised you as you and Jenna stepped away from one another.

Jenna nodded, but there was a feeling she couldn’t shake off.

How rushed the kiss felt, how much Tara and C/N went through. “It doesn’t feel right though,” she sent you an apologetic smile, hoping you’d understand it had nothing to do with the actual kiss you shared, it was just from the story perspective.

“How come?” Matt asked, puzzled, and maybe, and maybe it was just Jenna’s anxiety, just a bit annoyed. Well, this was supposed to be the big kiss of the movie.  

She wasn’t too surprised when you took her side immediately. “Tara just killed her toxic girlfriend, C/N just reconnected with Susan, they are both vulnerable, too vulnerable to get into a relationship,” you leaned back against the wall and glanced at Jenna. The smile on your face told her you were completely with her on this and she felt her heart beating faster, the realization of her crush on you returning full-force.

“Look, it’s a movie, we can’t exactly spend half an hour dealing with all the trauma between them,” Matt ran his hand through his hair. “I get your point, I really do, but we’ve been building this relationship up from the first scene you two have together.”

“And it’s built up, the kiss isn’t needed to establish them together. They’ve slept on the same bed, in each other’s arms, risked their lives for one another, C/N calls Tara ‘Love’, Tara killed for C/N, I don’t think anyone needs to see them kiss to know where their relationship is going,” you countered.

“So, if the sequel gets greenlit, we just jump into their relationship? That isn’t satisfying,” he sighed, looking at the couple from a commercial standpoint and not the story of the two characters that frankly weren’t ready for a relationship in this exact moment. In Jenna’s mind at least a few months would need to pass.

“Maybe we could make a short movie, make a storyline for them getting together and release it just before the sequel if we end up filming one?” Jenna suggested.

Matt nodded. “I’ll see what I can do, it’ll help avoid censorship at the very least.”

He stepped outside and you approached Jenna. “It had nothing to do with us, I was comfortable kissing you,” Jenna admitted, feeling like her face was on fire.

“I understand Jen, don’t worry about it,” you grinned, and she felt relieved as she raised her fist and you bumped your own fist against hers.

A/N: That took a long time. Hope you like it, tell me what you think?

Taglist: @lilbitdepressed27 @freakshow2501 @osnapitzmel1 @belatrixdragon @ijustlovemaths (It's been a while, I hope I didn't forget anyone 😅😅)

[lavenderlacedquill]

Angst idea: Will and Y/N are working on an investigation together and she gets seriously hurt. Since they had a heated argument before, she tries to hide her injuries but eventually feels dizzy due to the blood loss and he gets startled and rushes to help her.

˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ 𝐁𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐬 ˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

Pairing: Will Graham x Reader

Trigger Warnings!: Blood, injury, guns

This request has been sitting in my drafts for WEEKS waiting until I could properly dedicate time to it. This angst piece was so fulfilling to write and I hope it was everything you hoped it would be!

My Masterlist <3

✧˖°

“No, absolutely not!” Will’s voice rang through Jack’s small office on desperate ears. His eyes meet yours, filled with a sad craze as he directs his attention back to you. “You cannot seriously be considering this!”

Your heart lurches in your chest, because you completely understand where he is coming from. What Jack is asking from you is no small ask. Your eyes fall to the floor as a whisper leaves your lips hurriedly, “What other choice is there, Will? He’s going to keep killing unless it’s me who goes in.”

The man’s eyes whip to Jack’s, his hair ruffled from his stressed hands running through it. Will’s calloused palms run stressily over his face, covering his eyes as he speaks through them to the Agent. “I’ll do it,” He begins, desperation laced in every word because how could this really be on the table right now? “Please, Jack. Just let me go in instead. Do you know how dangerous this is going to be?”

Jack gives out a hefty sigh. This wasn’t an easy decision to come to. Putting you in a direct line of danger was not his first choice, but it’s the only way that he knows will draw out the unsub. The threats the FBI has received over the last few weeks were alarming, each one bigger than the last. You’re the one he wants, and he won’t settle for anything less. The perfect crime. 

“I need both Graham’s on this. End of story. I’m not going to let anything happen.” His measly attempt at reassuring the frazzled man before him doesn’t make a dent, but the Agent walks out of the office without another word, making intense eye contact with you just before the door closes. 

Your eyes dart from Will to the ground, your arms wound tightly around your middle as you sway softly where your feet have planted themselves. “I don’t like this either, Will. But we have a job to do.”

You hear the soft padding of his footsteps for only a moment before his arms find their way around you, taking you into a soft and protective hold, almost like he’s shielding you from an invisible force. His stubbled cheek meets your temple as his rough whisper sounds, “Using you as a pawn is never going to sit right with me. Jack doesn’t understand just how dangerous this is. He could-”

You step out of his hold quickly, cutting his words short, “I’ll be okay,” you begin, your hands coming up to hold Will’s face. “You’ll get to me before anything happens. Then it will all be over.”

The wheels in Will’s brain begin to turn, you can see it as his eyes almost begin to tremble in their sockets while he looks over you. He leans in, closing the small gap between you two, a soft kiss burning into your forehead for only a few seconds before he moves towards the door. 

It’s go time. 

............

The back of the unmarked van that Jack and Will are cramped in grows mustier as they both breathe, Will continuing to get more and more anxious as he waits for Jack’s queue to burst onto the scene. 

Your voice sounds in the headset he has practically pasted to his ears, but all seems to go quiet for only mere seconds as the weight of this entire fucked situation hits Will. You’re in the hands of a killer. One that has murdered anyone that he could get his hands on that bears any resemblance to you. He’s got you. No vest. No gun. The FBI, Jack, handed you over willingly.

 Thank you for all of your notes. I looked forward to them everyday.

You did? Really? I was so scared you wouldn’t get them. 

I did. 

Your conversation with the unsub snaps Will out of his trance, Jack grabbing his arm as they both listen intensely to each word. He can hear you trying to keep your tone even as you speak to him, but he can hear its subtle tremble. You’re scared and it’s killing him. 

I’m sorry I had to kill the others. I didn’t want to, I swear. You’re just…perfect. Getting to you was impossible. 

Each word the unsub speaks grows sinister, his voice dropping to a whisper as he approaches you. The agents can’t see it, but he’s got you sat at his dinner table, your hands bound by a zip tie. Can’t let you get away from me now! 

Pictures of you litter the entire thing, moments you didn’t realize were a victim of watchful eyes. Moments of you coming and going from work, intimate moments you shared with Will in the safety of your own home, pictures of you changing in your bedroom. Pure terror has you paralyzed. Jack knew it was bad, so did Will. But no one could have prepared you for this. 

Beyond the table, the images cover the floor in a disgusting blanket, bloodied footprints gluing them to the linoleum below. The walls are covered in a layer of red haphazard writing, crucifixes hanging in any empty space. Every light socket is filled with a shattered bulb, the room dimming as the  evening sun begins to set. A stench of dead lingers in the air, thick and musty in each breath you force your body to take. 

WIll can hear your struggle from his headset, his eyes catching Jacks in a desperate attempt to get the go ahead to rush onto the scene. He just wants this to be over. 

Let’s take a field trip. I’ve got something to show you.

The agents hear your chair scrape against the floor, with only their imagination to guide them as a sliding door sounds through your mic. They hear you wince softly as you stumble and hit the ground. 

You silly girl! Always been so clumsy.

Will’s own breath begins to quicken as he grabs Jack's shoulder intensely. “We need to go in. Now.”

Crawford only sends him an intense glare before turning his attention back to the feed from your mic. He hasn’t gotten what he wants from the unsub yet, so interfering would only put you in more risk. 

You're dragged harshly by your arm as he pulls you up from the ground, a scrape on your side burning from air exposure, hot with running blood. The world seems to be closing in around you as he brings you to the edge of an empty swimming pool, the bottom completely covered in lit candles and splotched red splatters. He leans down, speaking directly into your ear. The disgusting heat of his breath spreads across the side of your face. 

You’re the last piece. My sacrifice to Him before I can finally ascend. 

You break at his words, everything feeling suddenly too real as you hear a gun cock just inches from your head soundtracked by his maniacal laughter. A quiet sob escapes you, sending a dagger through Will’s stomach as he hears you continue to break through your mic. He throws the headphones off, sending them clattering to the van floor as he straps on his vest, gun in hand. 

Jack tries to protest, but Will shrugs him off, opening the van door and jumping out. “It’s done!” He yells back at the agent, slamming the door behind him as he slowly treds across the street to the unsubs yard. A fence is all that blocks him from you as he approaches the backyard. 

Will listens carefully as the exchange continues between yourself and the man they’re trying to apprehend. 

It was always you, my dear! And now we can finally be His forever. 

The cold metal of the barrel meets a small patch of exposed skin on your stomach. You try to move away as best as you can, but the man only grips you harder, pressing the gun deeper into your belly. 

“Please! Please, you don’t have to do this!” You sob, any ounce of hope leaving you as the metal grows warm against your skin. He laughs behind you again, shaking your body as it only grows more intense. 

That’s where you’re wrong, silly thing. 

BANG….BANG

The gunshots sound through the air, leaving Will Breathless as he breaks through the fence. Only, who’s eyes he meets aren't the assailants, no, they’re Jack’s. His shock only takes over him for a moment before he hears a soft whimper emit from the ground, a pained cry he would recognise anywhere. 

Everything goes quiet at the sight before him. The unsub lays dead, facedown in the grass, his blood seeping into the dirt. The second gunshot, Will will deduce later, caused by Jack, who went around the other side of the house. But only a few feet away from him lays your trembling body, your hands desperately trying to hide your gushing wound. 

You almost look dead, your skin growing pale against the bright green grass, life slipping through your trembling fingers. 

Jack calls for medical as Will collapses onto the ground beside you, his own hands frantic as they try to remove yours from your stomach. “No no no no,” you call weakly beneath him, trying your best to conceal your wound from him, almost as if to undo it, “I’m ok-okay.” 

Tears trail down the raw skin of your cheeks as Will pries your hands away, peeling his own jacket hastily from his shoulders to press onto your wound, a pained cry escaping your throat at the pressure. 

“I know i know i know,” You feel Will’s palm wipe the tears from your eyes as he tries to comfort you amidst the pain, his head dipping down to rest his forehead on your own, “I’m sorry, baby. I know.”

“I-it hurts” your lips quivering at the admission. Your form begins to tremble in his hold, blood loss weighing heavily on you. Jack watches as his fellow Agent begins to break above you, his own shoulders beginning to shake. He hears the distant calls of an ambulance, rushing to the street to guide them back to you.

“Stay with me,” Will moves to pull you into his lap, holding you still from your shakes to prevent any jostling of your wound. Your head rests in the crook of his neck as his palms continue to press into your middle, warm blood covering his hands. “Please. Stay awake for me. You’re going to be okay.”

He pulls your head from his neck as he speaks, eyes searching yours for any sign, but he only finds you teetering between consciousness. Your head lulls back to its spot, a soft cry of Will’s name leaving you before he feels you go limp against him. 

“JACK!” The broken man cries, gripping your body to his, as if he could pass some of his life into you in this moment. His lips find your temple, kissing you softly, like you’re one crack away from breaking into millions of pieces. 

Somewhere in the mix, paramedics arrive, peeling your tattered body from Will’s hold, his begs of them to be careful and gentle with you are heard by every official on sight. 

They strap you onto the gurney, loading you up into the back of the ambulance before eagerly preparing for departure. You needed a hospital, and you need one now. 

The paramedic signals for Will to load himself into the back of the vehicle, knowing that he won’t respond well to having to travel separately, but before he can step inside, Jack’s hand grabs his shoulder. 

“Will, I’m-”

“Don’t.” The man shoots back, red eyes intentionally dodging Jacks before the door is closed between them. 

Will settles in on the small bench inside of the ambulance, his hand holding yours in his own. Your skin has begun to cool, your color drained as the paramedics begin working. His grip tightens over every bump in the road. 

5 minutes passed before he felt it, the softest grip your own hand returned to his. He is immediately on alert, leaning closer to your form as he watches your eyes open against the bright lights of the ambulance. 

You groan at their brightness, your voice hoarse as you try to call for Will, confusion laced within as you take in the unfamiliar surroundings. He hears the fear in your voice, immediately answering and bringing your hand to his lips. “I’m right here with you,” he whispers chokingly, his free hand coming up to rest on your cheek. 

Your head whips around to meet his gaze, relief dawning on your form at the sight of him. Will’s stomach pangs at the sight of tears welling up in your tired eyes, lip quivering as you look at him with intense fear. 

He feels your weight shift as you lean your head against his knee, his own adorned with a messy mop of curls coming down to rest on yours carefully. “Will,” you hushedly sob, his soft lips meeting your forehead in response. 

“I’ve got you, I promise” 

✧˖°

AAA THIS ANGST PIECE WAS SO DIFFERENT!! I hope you guys enjoyed <3

The gif I used is from a set made by the lovely @hughdancybabyface

My request box is currently open, lovelies! Feel free to drop a request in there (or just Hannibal chitter chatter) just please read my guidelines first :)

[redrose10]

Part 2 of three… Thank you for all the comments and messages!

CEO Yoongi x Female Barista/College Student Reader

Title: Cold Brewed Love

Summary: When you begged the owner of Jin’s Java House to hire more employees you didn’t mean for him to stick you with the cold, rude, arrogant CEO Min Yoongi. Over time something begins to brew between you both and you end up forced to make decisions way above the pay grade of a cafe barista.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, hints of smut(nothing explicit), Yoongi is mean but we all know he’ll turn fluffy later, violence, kidnapping, mention of a gun, drug references, gang activity, murder, overdose

Word Count: 3,824

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You woke up confused and alone in a room you didn’t recognize. Your throat hurt, but your head hurt worse. You looked around trying to make out your surroundings to get some idea of where you were. The room was empty except for an armchair in the corner with a small side table next to it. The only light in the room came from a small space between the curtains of what you assumed was a window. It seemed like you had been out for quite some time judging by the amount of sunlight.

You tried to stand up, but you felt too weak immediately falling to the ground. You tried once again, but froze when you heard the door handle begin to jiggle. The door swung open and a light was turned on making you squint from the change in brightness.

“Good morning Y/N, good to see you’re finally awake. Can I get you something to eat or maybe a coffee?”, a deep unfamiliar voice spoke.

“Who are you and how the fuck do you know my name?”, you spat not in the mood for pleasantries.

The man walked in and took a seat in the chair across the room. You took noticed of his expensive looking suit that was tailored to fit him perfectly. His hair was slicked back. A strong cologne followed after him. He reminded you a lot of Yoongi.

“Is that anyway to speak to the man that saved your life and took you away from that monster?”, he said while lighting a cigar.

You scoffed, “You saved my life? My life was just fine until you kidnapped me and threw me in this room.”

“Oh dear Y/N. You really are too good and naive for Yoongi.”, the man chuckled.

The mention of Yoongi made your breath hitch.

“How do you know Yoongi?”

“Well Y/N…I am glad you asked. You see me and Yoongi go way back. We met when we were just children. We used to be very good friends, actually like brothers. We ran a little side business together. The largest drug manufacturing and distribution organization since the 80’s, you know… nothing too extreme. Then one day Yoongi’s parents decided to finally give him the reigns to control the business and suddenly he didn’t need me or our organization any more. I agreed to let him walk away because he was my brother and I loved him as such. I wanted him to have a good life either way.”

The man paused to take a long draw of his cigar before continuing, “But it turns out that wasn’t good enough for Yoongi. He was selfish. He wanted to take everything we had worked for while also making sure his past life would never get out to the public. He lied to me. He deceived me because he knew I trusted him. He took all of our assets, every cent. He destroyed any evidence that could be linked to him. And then to top it all off he went to the police to get the whole operation shut down to make sure this could never come back on him. But..unfortunately for him I’ve been able to build back most of what we had even though it’s nowhere near what we once had. It took a lot of time and cost me a lot of money and many of my men all while I’ve had to watch him live the life of luxury in his comfy office, going to galas, being praised and awed by strangers around the world that don’t know how evil he really is behind the facade of expensive suits and sultry looks. I vowed that I would get my revenge against him and make him pay for what he did to me…to us. I was starting to loose hope that I would ever get my chance.”

The man suddenly stood up and took a few long strides to kneel down in front of you. You pushed yourself back against the wall as far as you could while trying to conceal your whimpers.

The man poked his finger against your forehead, “And then I saw the photos of your little date. I could see it in his eyes…just how in love with you he is. I knew this wasn’t some random hookup like the others. And I knew that my time had finally come. Min Yoongi took everything from me and now I will take everything from him.”

“So what are you going to do? Just kill me to get back at him?”, you scoffed.

“Oh no no no Y/N. Not yet at least. I’m going to have some fun first. I want him to suffer for a while. I want him to worry about you until he’s sick to his stomach. For him to know your pain is all his fault. Then I want to kill him.”

You watched as the man walked over to the door before he turned to look back at you, “At the end of the day Yoongi doesn’t care about anyone or anything except himself, his image, and his money. You’re going to learn real soon about the real Min Yoongi.” The man stood up and left you speechless as you watched the door slam shut behind him.

“Fuck fuck fuck”, Yoongi chanted as he drove around trying to figure out his next move. He knew he never should’ve asked you out. He scolded himself for being weak for you.

He thought back to the first time he saw you and how he developed an immediate crush on you. Something he’d never experienced before. He saw you behind the counter of the coffee shop. You were definitely new. You kept eyeing him before quickly turning away every time he’d try and make eye contact with you. He knew you liked him. He wasn’t stupid.

Unfortunately he liked you too. Your cheeks flushed from nervousness and the heat of running around in behind the counter. Your hair wet from sweat and plastered to your forehead. You bit your lip in concentration as you poured the coffee. You looked so cute to him and he wanted to get to know you. To date you and make you his.

Then you shakily handed him his coffee only to knock it down on the counter spilling all over his favorite custom made shoes. Sure he had three other pairs so it really wasn’t a big deal, but he took it as the opportunity to scold you hoping to make you hate him. Selfishly hoping it would keep you away from him so he wouldn’t fall for you even more.

But it didn’t work as he had hoped and he quickly fell more madly in love with you every time he saw you. Then his parents made him get a job at Jin’s Java House. He knew it was a bad idea from the start. He tried to argue with them, pleaded for another option but to no avail. He thought he was strong enough. He started off trying to be rude while working together to make you hate him even more then he already knew you did, but it only made him feel guilty and left him wanting to make it up to you any way he could.

Then he tried distracting himself with other women, sometimes as close even ten minutes before he came down for his shift at the coffee shop with you. But even when his secretary was topless and moaning underneath him as he thrusted into her on his office couch all he could think about was you and your beautiful smile and how he wished it was you below him instead. As he was burrowed deep inside someone else he fantasized about how he would take his time and do everything possible to pleasure you until it was you screaming his name over and over. He knew it was a lost cause at that point because he was a man in love. And now here he was driving around the city while you were God knows where because of him and his weaknesses.

Yoongi regretted his past life. He wasn’t proud of what he did. He had gotten in a little trouble at school so his parents had told him he was a failure and they would sell the company before allowing him to take control. He felt hurt and useless and desperate to prove them wrong.

So as a teenager he turned to crime. Him and his best friend started dealing drugs. It started small with just some weed or pills here and there to other friends and their acquaintances. Then it got bigger and bigger until next the thing he knew they were moving thousands of kilos of various drugs every year worth hundreds of millions of dollars. They had bases in Seoul, LA, New York, Tijuana, London, Rio, Moscow, and Beijing as well as dozens of smaller ones he couldn’t even remember any more. Money was rolling in like he’d never seen even though he already grew up wealthy. He had a new woman every night and said goodbye to them before the morning with no strings attached. He was on top of the world and the best part was he was doing it all with his best friend.

Then he got a call. His dads health was deteriorating. The generational family company was falling apart. His mom was coping by drinking and popping pills, probably from his own supply unbeknownst to her. They were proud of him for becoming so successful in his “pharmaceutical business”, a lie he told when people started questioning his job or where his money came from. His parents had changed their minds and wanted him to take over the company. Become the ceo and bring profitability and success back to the family name and business.

At first Yoongi told them to fuck off. He wasn’t going to give up what he had worked hard for after they tossed him aside like he wasn’t their own flesh and blood.

Then days later he got another call from one of the few people in the world that he respected, his grandmother. She asked Yoongi to take over the company that her and his grandfather had fought so hard to build and turn into an empire. She didn’t want to see it given to someone outside of the family or worse have it shut down completely.

Yoongi tried to politely decline, but then solemnly she begged him. She begged him to take over not only to save the company, but so that he could escape his life of crime before he ended up in prison or worse. She cried reminiscing about how many times she stayed up all night worried about him and what he was doing out in the world. How every phone call made her heart skip a beat fearing the worst. How she saw families being torn apart thanks to him and his business’s product. She begged him, even referring to him as her little dumpling, a nickname she had often used for him growing up that he hadn’t heard in years.

Yoongi didn’t ask how she knew about his secret life. He didn’t want to know to be honest, but he knew he didn’t want to be the reason for her tears any longer. So he called his parents the next day to accept the position.

His friend had been kind and understanding, offering to let Yoongi just walk away from everything and leave him in charge.

At first that was fine. Then one night on his way home he found out that his neighbors daughter overdosed. She was just sixteen. A star student and respected ballerina already being scouted by some of the biggest dance companies from all over the world. Yoongi knew the drugs were from his prior organization. There were no others around at the time.

He watched the girls parents standing in the pouring rain until their knees gave out and they hit the concrete and sobbed as the stretcher carrying their daughter was wheeled into the back of a waiting van. After that night his grandmothers voice started playing over and over in his head often keeping him up along with the screams of the parents he heard that night.

Yoongi decided he wanted to erase that part of his life like it never happened.

Because he was still trusted by his friend he had access to the bank accounts which he wiped clean. He destroyed every document he could find that would tie him to the organization. Anonymously he contacted police in every city he could think of and helped them to track down all of their operations getting them all shut down. Multiple people were arrested and a few even killed. He did his best to convince himself that their blood was not on his hands.

And when the few that were arrested tried to snitch and implicate Yoongi there was no significant evidence and the little the police could find was quickly swept under the rug thanks to a little cash swung their way.

Yoongi was able to walk away without anyone knowing of his past life. His friend left to pick up the pieces of a once great empire. And now here Yoongi was paying the price for something he thought was long behind him and could no longer keep him from happiness.

You walked around the room as you looked for an escape. The window had bars around it. Of course the door was securely locked. There was nowhere to go. You didn’t have your phone any longer. You resigned to taking a seat back on the floor trying to come up with a plan.

You weren’t sure how much time had gone by but at some point later in the day a woman appeared with a tray carrying a bowl of soup and some toast as well as an apple and a bottle of water. You thanked her even though you had no appetite at all.

As you sat under the window staring up at the little bit of the sky you could see you wondered what was happening in the outside world. What happened at the coffee shop when you didn’t show up for work? Did they call looking for you? You were going to fall behind in your classes if that even mattered any more. Was Yoongi even looking for you or was he worried this would get out in the public and ruin his image? It was all becoming too much and you began to cry fearing the future and the unknown.

After a while of crying and dozing off you decided you were getting a little hungry. Remembering the tray from earlier you decided against the soup which was now cold and gelatinous, but the toast still seemed okay so you picked it up taking a bite.

It was slightly stale but passable. As you mindlessly chewed you noticed a small piece of paper on the plate where the bread had been.

With your brows furrowed you unfolded the paper finding a hand written note. The writing was barely legible as it appeared quickly scratched down and was written in some kind of lipstick.

“I’ll come back tonight. When you hear three knocks at the door be prepared to run.”

Your mouth went dry. Your heart began to race. Quickly you chugged down the bottle of water as you contemplated if running was worth the risk. Surely if they caught you then you would be killed. And who is this woman and why is she helping you? What if it was a test?

You had a million different thoughts going through your mind, but they were cut short.

*Knock…Knock…Knock*

Slowly the door creaked open and the same woman from earlier peaked in the room. She motioned for you to follow her. What did you have to loose you thought so you did.

The two of you tiptoed down the hall and some stairs before you heard shouting after you.

“Run!”, the woman shouted so you sprinted not far behind her. You ran down hallways and and stairs. Looking for any exit door.

Just when you saw your hope, a door with a large window facing the outside world just down the hall from you, you were grabbed and harshly thrown down on the ground. You looked up seeing Yoongi’s friend breathing heavily.

“This is what I get huh? I tried to let you stay upstairs in a warm room. I gave you food. Yoongi always said I was the soft one out of the two of us. I guess he was right, but not any more.”, he spat dragging you down the hall by your arm.

Frantically you searched for the woman from earlier who tried to help you. You hoped she got out or was at least safe, but you quickly realized that was not true. A blood curdling scream rang through the air followed by a single gunshot. Your eyes widened in horror.

“Don’t worry sweetheart. I’m not gonna kill you just yet. Not before you’ve gone on a final date with your Yoongi.”

You swallowed down the lump in your throat as the man threw you in a cell, the iron gates loudly clanking shut. It looked like you were in a dungeon. It was cold and there was zero light coming through.

Without speaking the man tossed you an old dirty towel to use as a blanket before heading back upstairs leaving you down there alone.

Days went by. You were barely fed and barely slept. You had accepted your fate at that point. Unsure if it was the delirium setting in or what but you often found yourself chuckling at your situation.

You missed the days of going to college. You missed your friends. You missed the smell of coffee and the warmth it brought. You couldn’t believe how your life had turned around in the matter of hours all thanks to you falling in love with a lier, con artist, the devil? You weren’t really sure how to view Yoongi right now. He was probably leading a meeting right now without a care in the world. He’s probably going out to dinner later with some woman he met on his way to work with the sole intention to get in her pants by the end of the night. A small part of you hoped he was worried about you. Looking for you. Doing anything to help. Because a small part of you still loved him.

You hadn’t heard anyone walk in until you heard the iron gate slide open ending in a loud clank.

“Put this on. And use these wipes to clean yourself up.”, an unfamiliar voice said.

You sat staring at the items in front of you not moving.

“Bosses orders”, the man growled.

Slowly you grabbed the wipes and began wiping down your face and arms. It actually felt kind of nice.

You reached for the other items, a black cocktail dress and hair brush. You took the brush and ran through your hair a few times until the knots were out.

You looked at the dress and then at the man in front of you. He rolled his eyes and sighed before turning around and facing the wall. Quickly you removed your clothes and put the dress on before the man could turn around.

Just as you finished, the familiar smell of cigars entered the air and not long after Yoongi’s friend appeared.

“Wow don’t you look nice. I can see why Yoongi likes you. I think he’ll appreciate that you dressed up just for him.”, he said before blowing a cloud smoke through your cell.

“Now go ahead and stand up against that wall.”, he pointed towards the other side of the cell.

You crossed your arms in defiance refusing to move.

He chuckled, “I like you Y/N. I really do. Too bad I’m only giving you twenty four hours to live.” Your face dropped in realization at his statement.

A bright flash lit up the cell for just a moment before you realized your photo had been taken.

“Thanks sweetheart. I’m sure Yoongi will love it.”, he laughed before leaving you alone once again.

Yoongi was back at his place pacing back and forth. He’d ignored call after call from Hobi. He’s sure he’s wondering where he and/or you are and he doesn’t have the brain power right now to come up with a believable lie.

As he stared out at the river below his apartment he heard a new notification on his phone. A text message from an unknown number came through showing the preview of a photo.

Clicking on the message he instantly dry heaved sure he would’ve fully vomited had he consumed anything today.

A photo of you in a black dress. Your hair frazzled. Immediately Yoongi noticed the bruising on your body. The cut on your lip and welt on your forehead. What killed him the most was the look on your face. The look of fear, of despair. He could see you were holding back tears and it was all thanks to him.

Seconds later another message came through, “Y/N’s a beauty Yoongi. I always did think you had good taste when it came to women and it seems like even after all these years nothing has changed. You have 24 hours to find us. If you involve the police I’ll kill her instantly. If you even care…”

You had changed back into your old clothes giving yourself a little more coverage from the cold. The floor was made of stone but you were so exhausted you were able to drift off to sleep quite quickly.

You fell into dreamland. Dreaming that you were on a beach. The warm sun shone down on you as a breeze rippled through the air. The ocean waves crashed gently against the sand next to you as you walked along the edge. Looking up you saw Yoongi just down the beach waiting for you. He flashed you a gummy smile showing you the two drinks he had in his hands. Just as you began to walk towards him the sky turned dark and a giant wave came crashing down on you dragging you out to sea. You screamed for help unable to get yourself out of the current as the waves kept you down. Running out of fight you felt yourself slowly drifting under water father and rather. The last thing you remembered was hearing Yoongi screaming your name.

You jerked awake sweaty and out of breath with your hand clutching to your chest.

Sitting up you did your best to try and calm yourself down taking deep slow breaths.

Faintly from a distance you swore you heard your name shouted. You brushed it off thinking it was just a residual memory from your dream.

Then you heard it again, a little clearer this time and you were a little more certain.

“Yoongi?”, you whispered to yourself hearing a familiar sound as the door slammed open.

[anna-proxx]

pretty please can we have arthur morgan falling in love with hyperfem! reader? ur stuff is always so so yummy,, no pressure ofc! ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა

⭒✧⋆｡guns n' bows ✧⋆｡⭒

pairing: Arthur Morgan x hyperfem!reader

genre: fluff, slight angst (good ending)

summary: Arthur finds himself adoring a dainty woman who joined the gang a while ago. It suddenly becomes clear to him he has fallen in love.

word count: 3294

tags: high honor arthur, fem!reader, (mutual) pining, arthur being a sweetheart

a/n: thank u so much, dolly! i had a few ideas on how to approach this and decided to make it more story-based and focus on arthur's inner process as he realizes he's in love with the reader (as i would imagine it to go). if you'd like something a bit different, lmk! i've been wanting to write a hyperfem fic for a while now, so i had fun with it. also, i'm thinking about writing a pt. 2 where i'd focus more on the reader's pov and have arthur express his feelings more (be a cutie around her) and confess his love. <3

dividers by @saradika / @saradika-graphics

✮ masterlist

Arthur Morgan wasn't used to being gentle with people. His hands were rough and calloused and his muscle memory trained to draw his guns and shoot. They were meant to be a weapon, to protect and harm for the people he considered his family.

Perhaps he had it in him, but there was no reason to be soft and gentle – the world was just as rough as him and he was assigned the burden of fighting against it. The softest he could get was between the pages of his journal as he wrote about his thoughts and sketched owls and beavers and when he patted dogs and talked to his horse.

But most of those were away from prying eyes and frankly, the role of a dense criminal prized for his brawn comfortably fit around his overlooked qualities, as that was all he needed to be. To survive, to fulfill his role.

And yet you saw right through it. Of course you did, you had a good heart, open to whoever you saw goodness in. While some might write Arthur off as a rugged criminal only, you noticed his edges weren't as sharp as he tried making them seem to be.

His duties were violent, sometimes brutal, the earth soaking up blood of his enemies and his image reflecting in their eyes as the last thing before they closed them forever. To some, he was their biggest nightmare. He wasn't a good man, to believe so would be naive and foolish, but he wasn't all bad either, as some would think.

Your heart was big enough to accept his sins and leave the judgment to whatever was above, meanwhile you sought his presence as it brought you a strangely warm sense of security and comfort. Like moth to a flame, his different nature allured you. Hardened on the outside and soft-hearted on the inside.

Perhaps that was the reason you found yourself liking this big outlaw. Scooted towards him at the campfire, or sat nearby and watched him as he lied on his cot and scribbled something into his journal.

You might've been fragile and soft spoken, but you weren't stupid and your intuition on people was like a radar you could wholeheartedly trust. So you did.

Arthur didn't exactly know you sometimes looked for his presence, but he did notice you were comfortable around him.

It baffled him a little – you were so small compared to him, wearing lace and frills and cute little bows in your hair and yet you didn't seem to be intimidated by his appearance or demeanor at all. It sparked joy inside of him whenever you'd come to him blabbering about the rainbow you saw or gave him a soft smile as your eyes met.

You never treated him with judgment or revulsion, despite knowing very well your morals were against everything he was doing. Just how big of a sweetheart were you to do that? He never said it, but it meant a lot to him.

He felt as though you weren't even a part of all this. You were like a gem among roughened stones or a flower growing in gravel, reading in your tent and braiding your horse's mane while he washed blood off his hands.

And truth be told, because of that, he found you to be soothing and healing for his battered soul. It was so different, to be around someone like you.

You brought out a side of him he didn't know he had, one that was more tender than he was used to be. He didn't feel so angry or cynical, even after a job gone wrong. When he was with you, being gentle was easy.

At the beginning, when you first fell with the gang, it was doubt and hesitation he felt towards you. You were so... untouched by the world's cruelty, so innocent and open-hearted.

Arthur assumed you were naive and feeble, not only in the physical sense but mental as well. The world posed a huge threat to someone like you and he was worried you wouldn't survive in such circumstances. He was convinced you'd run after a few weeks but you did no such thing.

As the months passed, you stayed with the gang, patient and resilient while remaining soft and feminine. You helped where you could and offered a listening ear to anyone who needed it; even managed to get Arthur to open up to you when you two were alone. And you barely ever complained, even ate all Pearson's stews though you must've been used to eating fine food. And you lit up the space wherever you went. Your optimism was invincible. How the hell were you managing to do that?

It dawned on him he must've terribly underestimated you and his doubtfulness turned into admiration and intrigue. You were one fascinating little thing.

Things have been going quite downhill, so he kept checking up on you and you always had a warm smile to offer. You were still sweet and charming, even with the law on your tail.

You were his polar opposite, gentle waves of the sea splashing against hard rocks hot from the sun. Soft clouds concealing the sky after a raging storm. A calm rain on a hot summer day.

Arthur had no intentions of falling in love ever again.

But his heart was a sneaky little traitor.

Dusk softly illuminated the lake's surface when he found you sitting on the pier, your feet splashing in the water. You put your shoes beside you and held the skirt of your dress at your knees to avoid getting it wet. It was your favorite, white and pink, the corset decorated with little bows at the front. Your locks curled loosely over your shoulders, a light pink bow tying some of it at the back of your head.

You looked so vulnerable and cute lost in your thoughts like this, your feet creating creases in the water as you idly watched them. You had no company with you, only a couple of ducks swimming nearby and butterflies fluttering their wings around your head.

Arthur wondered what your mind was occupied with and before he could properly think it through, his steps directed towards your small frame lit by warm light.

You were pondering on the events of the past few weeks when the heavy steps on the wooden planks caught your attention. Turning your head to look up at the person coming, your eyes lit up as you saw it was your favorite one.

"Arthur!" you called out, your big doe eyes digging a pit in Arthur's stomach.

"[Name]. How are you?" His gaze lingered on you as he stood before you, his hands placed on the gun belt around his hips. You found the concern sweet. Instead of it being a casual phrase, his eyes studied you for an actual answer.

"Good, I think. What about you?" Your voice was smooth like honey and inviting, giving the outlaw something to lean into.

"'M alright," his voice rumbled as he shifted on his feet, his gaze dropping to the ground. "Ya like this place?"

You shortly looked around, taking in the view of the trees and dim sky reflected back in the peaceful lake.

"I do, it's such a charming spot." You looked back into Arthur's face, catching a hint of a smile on his lips.

"'M glad to hear that."

You could almost hear his goodbye that would follow but before he had the chance, you spoke.

"Come on, join me." You patted the spot next to you and slightly turned your body towards Arthur when he sat beside you.

Arthur was a bit at loss of words, always quick with his witty responses but uncertain around you. Your flowery perfume overcame him, then the sight of your rosy cheeks and full lips. You looked like a doll, looking at him through your long lashes with the most innocent look in your eyes.

For a moment your company made him forget about everything. He felt like just a man instead of a sinner, leaning into the silent acceptance you provided him.

You swung your feet in the water. "What did you do today?" you asked kindly, no trace of judgment.

Arthur sighed, recalling the day's events. "Robbed a stagecoach, had to shoot 'em guards. Met a few of the O'Driscoll boys too."

He wasn't one to sugarcoat things, especially when there was no reason to. You knew what kind of person he was and despite you never expressing disgust, he knew you must've had certain sentiments of him and they were all true. He was no better than the crooks he fought. And yet, with you, he wished he was.

Your gaze found his hand resting over his knee, barely dried blood on his knuckles.

"Oh, Arthur!" You took his hand in his, examining the damage with focus as you held his palm with both your hands, yours small in comparison to his.

Arthur's breath faltered in his throat. A lukewarm feeling settled in his chest and slight panic ran through his mind as he was slow to realize just what was happening. The warm touch of your smooth fingers was unusually intensive and he wished for the moment to never stop, as if he ever cared for such things.

He felt silly for it. What was happening with him? Why did he feel such fondness at your delicate hands cradling his, the slight blush on your cheeks, the flyaway hairs around your head?

He furrowed his brow at the unfamiliar tightness in his chest, the rhythm of his heartbeat picking up on pace.

He hasn't felt this way ever since...

"Your poor knuckles," you mumbled while gently running your finger over the bruises. "You know, I don't think I've ever seen them healed."

Your tone was nothing but caring, as if Arthur hadn't used the fist to break someone's jaw. You put his hand away, putting yours in your lap as you continued bathing your feet in the water and watching the thoughtful look on Arthur's face as he softly looked at you.

Arthur cleared his throat, chasing all the crazy thoughts away. "And how's yer day been?"

You tactfully ignored the change of topic and played around with your necklace as you spoke. "Well, it was alright. I've been doing chores almost whole day, then went to Rhodes for some supplies with Tilly and Javier. He also taught me a bit of one Spanish song!"

Oh did he? A pang of jealousy struck him. What the hell was wrong with him?

"Arthur, everything okay?" you asked, your brow furrowed at the sight of his troubled expression.

"Sure, 'm... just tired, that's all."

You nodded, looking at the sky coloring itself in blueish grays. "Yeah, I might go to sleep earlier today as well, I reckon."

Pulling your feet out of the water, you started putting on your shoes while Arthur stood up, offering you a hand by the time you were done. You smiled up at him and accepted his hand, being effortlessly pulled up to your feet.

"Thank you, Arthur."

Your voice wouldn't leave his head, even after you walked towards your tent, disappearing from his sight. He walked to his own one in a trance, left with many unanswered questions in his head.

This wasn't like him, even less to be so confused by his feelings. And yet, as he lay in his cot that night, he kept going back to the moment at the lake, imagining what it would've felt like to brush his fingers through your soft hair or cup your cheek.

Another heavy sigh.

Only yesterday you were still just you. A kind girl they had rescued when she had nowhere else to go, a young woman who–

No, who was he kidding. The warning signs had been there long before; the warmth in his chest whenever he saw you, that little jump his heart did when you said his name, the joy he felt when you asked him for small favors.

It gnawed at him, the sense of knowing he tried pushing away.

He fell in love with you. Somewhere along the way, without taking notice. As complicated and messy it would make things, in a way, admitting to himself the feelings he had for you felt relieving.

How was he so stupid not to realize sooner?

He loved the way you got excited over making flower crowns and how you'd weave some for the girls. He loved when he saw you consoling and comforting Karen into putting the bottle away, or even being kind to that bastard Kieran. He loved when he found you playing with Jack, letting him put flowers in your hair. He loved your feminine gaze, the one that would capture all his attention, or how your kindness towards him made him feel. As if there was still hope for him, as if he wasn't damned after all.

But there was a tight knot in his stomach. He might've set himself up for another heartbreak. How could you want someone like him?

Arthur fell asleep riddled with contradicting thoughts that night.

The new reality of being in love with you gave him a sort of solace. But it wasn't until morning that he decided he could only do one thing – keep his distance. For both his and your sake.

You were beautiful and dainty like a rose, but he was the thorns.

Arthur did as he promised to himself – despite the stolen glances and wishful thoughts split in half, he would avoid you, though it wasn't as apparent as he's been so busy lately. Not like he would complain about that, if anything, it took his mind off you, even if not for long.

Above all he wanted to return to camp after a difficult job and be close to you, talk to you, feel your calming presence.

What he didn't expect with his plan was how much it would wear him down.

But the last thing he wanted was to hurt you, which he assumed would eventually happen, or lose his head for someone who wouldn't reciprocate the same feelings back.

He returned to camp late today. In the middle of the night when everyone was already asleep. He wanted nothing more than to lie down in his cot, his shoulders slouched as he got down from the saddle and patted his horse a good night, unsaddling him to give him some rest too. The night was quiet and tranquil, like peace after a storm, given how Arthur's day went.

It has been weeks since Arthur had realized he had feelings for you by this point and looking towards the tents, he couldn't help but wonder whether you were alright. He hasn't been around much lately, so he could only guess you continued to be true to who you've been since the beginning. With ribbons in your hair and a dreamy look in your face.

He sighed at the image. What a lovestruck fool he was.

He missed your sleepy eyes and the little wrinkle between your eyebrows when you were confused.

As if something listened to his wishes, a small figure emerged from the shadows and he realized it was you.

Wearing your undergarments, bloomers with frills and lace, you made your way straight towards him. Your hair was in two braids tied by pink ribbons, though a bit messy from sleep, and the loose strands of hair tucked behind your ear.

He froze in place, watching you get closer while his heart went a little crazy. A part of him was happy to see you approaching him, whatever the reason for that was. It made him feel fuzzy inside and that scared him more than any gunfight.

"Arthur!" you called out for him with a slightly shaky voice, not stopping your steps until you stood right before him.

Arthur fought the urge to reach out for you as he saw you small and vulnerable, looking up at him with need, his heart struck with fear when he noticed the little tears in your eyes.

"[Name], what's wrong?" There was urgency in his voice, a worried look in his eyes and panic coursing through his veins.

You held a sob as you spoke, hugging yourself with your arms, a few of the loose strands falling into your face.

"J-just a nightmare. I woke up so s-scared." You started to shiver as you recalled the frightening images. As soft as you were on the outside, you had a vivid imagination and your nightmares could get very eerie and gruesome, causing chills to travel up your spine every time the memory flashed before your eyes.

Arthur's instincts now clutched his heart tightly, a knot tying itself in his stomach. He hated seeing you like this, helpless, afraid and trembling. The sight of you awakened every bit of his protective nature and he didn't want anything more than to hold you and never let you go, even put his life on the line just to keep you safe.

He didn't think twice.

"Aw, c'mere," he proposed in a low warm voice, enveloping you in his embrace gently enough to give you the option of changing your mind.

But you snuggled into the hug instead, a small sob escaping you as you wrapped your arms around his torso, your arms barely connecting behind his back.

He was so warm and firm and you have never felt safer in your whole life. The anxiety was slowly mellowed out, filling your heart with affection instead.

Arthur breathed in your scent and it made him feel lightheaded, and to feel your soft warm body pressed against his felt like a dream.

You were so delicate in his arms and your exposed skin made it hard for him to keep his thoughts straight. He was a gentleman of course, but his heart raced nonetheless and he feared you could hear it beating against your ear.

"It's okay, t'was just a dream." His voice was soothing and warm, and it worked like a charm. He consoled you with strokes on your back, his big palms hot through the thin layer of your undergarments.

"What horrible thin' did ya dream 'bout?" Arthur asked, his embrace not loosening around you. He was quite happy like this, protecting you between his arms, as if you always belonged there.

You kept your face nuzzled to his chest, comfortably leaning into the hug.

You started talking about the dream and he listened. A monster, you said, something big and deranged sneaking its way around to its victims. You rambled about the details, your descriptions a mess as you spoke in loose tangles.

Arthur slightly smiled at your stuttering, it made you even more adorable than you already were, though he didn't know it was even possible.

He would kill anyone who'd dare to touch you.

"'M the only scary thing 'round here 'm afraid," Arthur muttered, his chest rumbling under your head.

"As if," you retorted with your voice muffled, certainty in your disagreement.

It caught Arthur off guard a little and nervousness arose in him as he asked the following question. "You ain't scared of me?"

He knew if there was even an ounce of fear in you, it would've killed him.

You looked up at him, your eyes big and glossy. "I feel safe with you, Arthur."

His heart dropped and he looked into your eyes completely baffled, not grasping how such a sweet creature like you could say such a thing to him.

You felt safe with him.

You did.

He felt vulnerable under your gaze; not even heavens could make him feel so exposed. He was afraid you could read his thoughts with that pretty mind of yours as you held the eye contact, that you could recognize how much he was now melting and crumbling inside.

So much for being a tough hardened criminal.

He felt like a teenager again. The sweating hands, tingles in his stomach, it was all back.

Arthur tightened his embrace, cuddling you closer.

As he held you under the starry sky, your tiny arms wrapped around him, he was sure of one thing.

He could do many things. But staying away from you was not one of them.

[blueberryarchive]

—the sketch and the smaller eye; kth

Lonely man Kim Taehyung leads a fairly stable routine in his life away from civilization affected by an infection without a cure. Stability ends the day you arrive, no one knows how you got there, but one thing is for sure: Taehyung won't let you go.

🌿pairing; Artist!Taehyung x Fem!Reader

🌿word count; 8.1k

🌿tw; widower!tae, post-apocalitic scenario, mentions of disease, weight loss and death, very brief mention of arms, age gap (21 & 30-ish), smut (manhandling, whiNY Taehyung, edging, spanking, oral (f. receiving), creampie, dirty talk), gruesome details of the virus.

🌿themes; strangers to lovers, slow burning, cottage-core.

🌿inspired by; ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

ᵗʰⁱˢ ⁱˢ ᵐʸ ᶠⁱʳˢᵗ ˡᵒⁿᵍ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ ⁱⁿ ᵉⁿᵍˡⁱˢʰ ᵖˡˢ ᵇᵉ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳˢᵗᵃⁿᵈⁱⁿᵍ

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The walk all the way home was always one of his favorite things to do when it was hunting day, the way the wind danced between the dying leaves and made music inside the hollow trees, the sun setting with the most beautiful tones of pink. It always reminded him of the times he spent just drawing all alone until you came into his land.

The day was August 8th, the heat was overbearing and like all of the other days around the same time, probably four or five (he wouldn't know because his only clock died a year ago), Taehyung sat down in the shadow of an old oak tree that has been his only friend, besides his dog, since he came to this lonely and God-forgotten place, were he was blessed and cursed with solitude and the cruel nature.

He had a small tin box with all of his drawing supplies, broken pencils, a piece of eraser gum the size of a nail, and a reddish tint drying up in a baby food crystal jar. Every day he told himself that he was making more yellow with the few sunflowers in his backyard, but today of all days he actually stood up to look for the petals.

The flowers were right outside the kitchen window, the sun was going down, and they were hunched over, withered, and full of little flying butterflies. His calloused hands took a pair of petals, the most vibrant and alive.

The sudden sound of cracking leaves and the barking of his dog disturbed him.

Taehyung perfectly remembers the moment he saw your frightened eyes, the color of the sunset over your weak body clinging to a log, an improvised cane. Torn clothes, dry mouth like a corpse, wet hair for some reason. Did you cross the river?

The first reaction of both was primal, like two animals that didn't plan to meet. Taehyung only turned on the fireplace at night, only for a couple of hours, so as not to attract attention. 

So what were you doing there? Were you lost? Impossible, he was too far from civilization. Were you infected? The wolves would've eaten you by now. Either way, he didn't like the idea of someone new.

The petals sweated their amber ink on Taehyung's hand, you tried to maintain your position, your gaze... almost afraid to blink. The man was not afraid to take action, hand already inside his overall pocket. Without much, his hand raised a pistol, sleek and silver. He was pointing straight at your face, your hair in a ponytail revealing your exposed forehead, like an invitation to explode it with a bullet.

"No, please." You muttered. So soft and yet, Taehyung got scared hearing someone else's voice. It wasn't a growl, nor the crash of stones from the river, nor the rain, nor the cawing of crows, nor his own grunts when chopping wood, nor the barking from his old dog. "I'll go." You begged again, letting go of the log. Taehyung tensed, even more, hearing you again.

So soft and sad. So delicate when the world around was burning.

"Are you coming with someone else?" he growled, getting closer and looking around. The forest seemed quiet, and his dog would have warned him.

"No, just me."

"If you lie it'll be worse for you."

"I know." You lowered your head to avoid the black eye of the gun.

"Are you sick?" the question was simple. Taehyung was trying to look for signs of infection. He hadn't felt this fear since the last time he lost his wife to that fucking disease.

You denied it, slowly.

"Show me," he said with a lowered tone, calm eyes as you undressed as quickly as possible. No marks. Elbows, hands, neck, eyes. All clean. With a sigh from both, the barking stopped.

"Walk to the tree over there, and if you try to do anything funny I'm going to put every fucking bullet in your head," he said giving a simple condition. He started moving with you in front.

Without saying anything else, you both walked slowly to the trunk. The afternoon was already turning blue, cicadas were playing a tense melody. Your bare back revealed your vertebrae, hard balls under your skin looking as if it was going to break. You hugged yourself, trying to keep the heat of your body, perhaps even your modesty.

With a whistle, Frank appeared: an old dog with red eyes and floppy ears. Seeing the naked stranger, he growled loudly. Your hands began to tremble, the weapon and the animal made a cry of pain come out of you, a plea with tears falling down your ashy cheeks. But you didn't see a drop of mercy in Taehyung's eyes, you knew that having this kind of loneliness was not achieved without having to kill several from time to time.

The eyes of the man in front of you were unbending and cold, lips pressed into a thin line, thick hands gripping Frank's chain and his gun. Stains of watercolors and charcoal on his fingers.

"C'mon, buddy," he whispered and the dog came closer little by little to sniff your body. "Bend down." You obeyed.

The animal took its time sticking its wet nose into your hair and skin until it snorted as it sat down. Taehyung lowered the gun.

That was the beginning of your recovery, long days lying between rough, thick sheets. Yellowed pillows that smelled of Taehyung's hair, hand-rolled cigarettes on the nightstand. Every morning he would get up before the sun came up and carry his hunting artifacts over his shoulder. Frank stayed with you while you tried to kill time in the cabin.

You learned how to garden and cook, roll the cigars, and dry the tobacco in the sun. The books were plenty, but reading was an activity you only did if Taehyung was the one reading to you, he did it every night. Even when the fever was so high you couldn't keep up with the story.

When you were at your worst, he held your head to put you in one of his sweaters, and even left the crackling fire all night to keep you warm in the cold.

Every night he started, with a rough and tired voice, around 8 o'clock, to read you a chapter from a book of poems or letters; or the list of lost people in the old newspaper.

"I do it to keep me sane," he said. "I went a long period without saying a word, and I started to forget how to say them, my tongue used to get jammed." He explained to you while drawing an empty cup of tea next to you.

You could only tell him a couple of questions each night, he used to get tired very easily. The first two weeks you couldn't even pronounce two words before he started to lose his patience.

"You don't have to know anything about me," his eyebrows locked in a frown. "When you get better, you can go and it will be like we never met."

But now it has been three months, you think. You recovered pretty well, and you can do the chores while he's out. You try your best every day so he notices that you won't be a bother if he lets you stay.

He doesn't ask questions about how you came to be on this side of the river, and you thank him for that. The memories blurred in your mind, like a sketch that's been erased again and again. 

Taehyung get's home at sunset, you are outside breaking some newspapers into pieces. The notebooks he used to draw in were already full, so you decided to make him a new one. 

You are wearing a dress he found in an abandoned house, it was a teen size but he loves it. He doesn't know your age yet, but he knows you're probably in your early twenties. He loves when the sun is scorching hot and your only choice is to let your thighs and shoulders out while you cook and clean. The hem flows with the wind letting him see your bare ass while you put the paper to dry.

You two haven't had sex, you never gave him signs, maybe because he looked a little bit older. He never felt like he had to hide an inexistent lust, until a few weeks ago. 

Two, to be exact. 

You were in the nearest river. A flimsy white t-shirt, wine-drunk, and talking so much. You were so irksome with your questions. The cold water sticking the fabric to your body like marble while you asked about Taehyung's boring routine. Your babble was such, you started asking about him jerking off and how sex works in solitude.

The way you laughed made him blush with anger. Sketches he was trying to make from the water lilies turned into ones from your eyes. 

That day he had to take a cold shower in the river after leaving you by the fire in the house. His face was boiling red, tired of your babbling and hard as a log.

The idea of you making him horny made him mad for some reason; it made him feel like a high school boy, but it was natural. He had years without seeing a woman. And you were pretty. So pretty for no fucking reason.

He knew that being in his early thirties probably made him less attractive to you, he was a grumpy man, almost a caveman how he reacted to your ways. That's why he didn't try, not even think about it... not always.

Now you have him going to abandoned houses on the other side of the river, looking for things for you: like a small bottle of perfume, a broken mirror, and old photos of people who are probably dead by now. A way to show he cared without using words. 

When he got to the rock path, the crackle made you turn around, you were smiling like always, and his heart felt warm.

"I told you to do that earlier. The paper won't dry today," He grunted, acting more tired than he was so you leave everything behind and get near him. You get a cigar from a basket near you and light it for him. You pass it to him after taking a puff.

"But you can draw on one piece of paper."

"That's not how it works."

"It'll have to work."

Taehyung pressed his lips together, he knew you enjoyed arguing with him, but more than those few words would not come out of him. You rolled you eyes going back to hang the wet paper.

"I'm making dinner tonight," he muttered like ten minutes later and then silence again. Another cigar, the old Frank by his side while he watched the sunset disappear.

The reading hours were around six to seven, right after dinner. It was the same routine when you first stayed, and it is the same now: After dinner, he gets comfortable in bed, takes a cigarette from the nightstand, and with the gas lamp he lights the tip. Book in hand. 

The words he didn't say all day would overflow as he read chapter by chapter. In an appropriate tone, pauses at the commas, giving life to each character. A treat for the ears.

After looking for a book on the first floor, he entered the room and stood up, his eyes went to the corner where there was a broken mirror, and in its reflection, you were, combing your hair in a ponytail, so poorly done that it was better to leave it loose. But the strands that were floating in the air, in front of your eyes, made Taehyung's fingers tingle, wanting to take every strand and pull it towards him.

There was a heaviness in the air that early autumn night. The silence was thick, and the yellowish lamplight cast heavier shadows on every piece of furniture. Abrupt and defined as in a baroque painting.

The curve in which his eyes concentrated more were the ones that defined your waist and your stomach, how it bulged slightly like a hill stamped with the flowers of your skimpy dress.

"Turn around," you muttered, like you didn't care if he did it or not, as you started to remove your dress; snapping Taehyung out of the sketches he was drawing in his head. He went to open the window to let some of the heat out of the room, letting the smoke creep through the curtains.

"I think I know what I'm going to read to you today," he cleared his throat, looking down at his bare feet pacing anxiously across the room. The shadow of your silhouette moving on the floor, the bone-white nightgown falling on your curves, exposing one of Taehyung's weaknesses: the connection of your neck and your shoulders, subtle but lethal.

He wanted to press his face between and close his eyes, inhaling the scent of your skin. Rich and peachy, like when the trees have so much fruit that they start to ripen on the same tree.

"You haven't finished showing me the stamp book yet." You dropped on the bed.

"I'm already bored of it."

"Odd." you noticed, watching him bend down and open a suitcase under the bed. "And those?" As you approached you saw a collection of books.

They were small, wrinkled, and minimalist in cover. Some were yellowed papers seized by the red wax on the spine.

Taehyung snorted at the question and looked up, daring you to keep acting innocent. He knew that you knew every corner of the house.

"I want you to say it," you smiled.

"Force me."

"I want you to say that Taehyung, the hard-faced man, has a collection of erotic books under his bed."

"You already said it. I don't have the need."

"Why do you have it under the bed?"

"What are you talking about?" Taehyung moved the books until he found a small book in Spanish. The pink cover with a painting of a mischievous Renaissance woman smiling.

"Kept under the bed, in a suitcase. Like a secret."

"I'm not ashamed of reading erotica if that's what you assume." he closed the suitcase and dropped his body next to you. His head near your legs, yours lying on the opposite side.

"And why do you have it like they're illegal." you held the cigarette he offered you.

"Habits of a human who lived in a society, I suppose."

You inhale the cigarette while he searched for the short between his long fingers, the book opened softly. His thumb pressed down the middle of the pages.

The glass of wine had you sparkling, you still hadn't gotten used to the alcohol. You had not drunk in so long that you did not remember its effects. There was something on the tip of your tongue, a confession that couldn't wait, an itch that needed to be scratched.

Before you could speak, Taehyung let out a soft "Ah" as he found the story for the night.

"A man who came about five years ago translated this story by Anaïs Nin for me. When he found out that I painted, he told me that he had a story for me."

"What's it called?" Without realizing it, your hand began to caress Taehyung's leg.

"La Maja," he pronounced. "Like Goya's painting"

Your head fell back on the stacked pillows, Taehyung's lips moved as he read a homemade translation of the story.

"He pulled back the sheets that covered her and slowly lifted the silk nightgown. He was able to lift it over her breasts without her giving the slightest sign of awakening. When it was uncovered all over the woman's body, he contemplated it for as long as he wanted. Her arms were detached from her body; her breasts stretched out before his eyes like an offering. He was aroused by his desire but he did not dare to touch her. Instead, he brought paper and pencils, sat by her bedside, and took notes. As he worked, he had the sensation of caressing each of the perfect lines of the woman's body."

Taehyung's eyes would lift to yours after reading the paragraph, turning back to the page with embarrassment flushing his cheeks. The human habit of blushing when you want things so badly, he thought.

The smoke from the dying cigar between your fingers snaked through your hair and the softness of your chin. Taehyung was never more jealous of something so ephemeral.

He couldn't find where he had stayed and the silence became so loud that you could only do what was right.

"I followed you today."

"What?" Taehyung didn't understand, you had spoken so low that he almost didn't notice it.

"To the woods, when you left this morning."

When he closed the book, you knew that what little sweetness Kim showed you turned sour. 

"I have told you that you must stay here, with Frank. Safe." You both got up at the same time, you followed Taehyung looking for his gaze which he averted.

"I'm not asking you to keep me safe, Kim" you replied.

There was a pause as he pricked at his bottom lip. Was that in his pupils the sign of an offense? Taehyung clucked at you, turning around.

"Kim," you tried to fix it by brushing against his shoulder. "It's not that I'm a helpless deer, I know how to protect myself." You laughed to lighten the mood. Bad idea.

A question, like a small forgotten flame, reappeared in Taehyung's brain. Out of courtesy when you got sick in the first few weeks, he didn't ask where you came from, why you were alone, or how you came to cross the wide river that divided a civilization almost thousands of kilometers to the left. When politeness turned to infatuation, the question was no longer so important. He felt that he could trust you and that he had a new purpose besides survival: to keep you safe.

Fallacies.

"How did you come to find me?"

"What?" the smile faded from your face.

"I'm not going to repeat myself."

Your eyes moved erratically in his gesture, a frown. Just like when you came in drenched that August. No trust.

"Don't know."

He just snorted denying, he didn't believe you, and that irritated you.

"Sure, of course."

"Do you think I'm lying to you?"

"I don't believe it, I know." His body moved from side to side, arranging books and picking things up off the ground.

Your flushed face and clenched fists. Boiling alcohol in your veins.

"Well, you can go to hell with your lonely man farce."

"OK." Taehyung sighed daring you to continue insulting him.

"You do know that things aren't as horrible as at the start of the pandemic anymore, right?"

"Oh yeah?" His eyes widened in theatrical surprise.

"The infected are controlled and-," Seeing how he continued to feign interest, you pushed him aside and grabbed your dress from the floor, beginning to change. Tears accumulated without permission in your eyes. "Whatever," you mumbled.

"Then you do know something about your past."

"Fuck you, Kim."

"No, because you lied to me and now you say things like how you know how to defend yourself in a forest full of wild wolves and that you traveled several kilometers by water and land to get here. And you want me not to ask questions about it." He moved closer to you so close that he could see the torment in your eyes.

"Exactly." You muttered putting on your garden boots.

"That request is absurd and you know it." his laugh was careless. He was drunk too.

"I know."

You both stared at each other, your hair was no longer tied up and its shadow hid both of your features under its shadow. Your lips parted at the sight of his.

"I don't remember how I got to this place," you whispered, a tear fell to your cheek and you cursed how sensitive alcohol made you. You saw how Taehyung's face softened in the presence of your pain. "I swear I would have told you if I knew."

Taehyung swallowed hard and looked out the window. He hated seeing others cry, he hated when his wife did it, and he hates seeing it now in your lost gaze. There was something in the way you were, in the quality of your emotions and your hope in everything that reminded him so much of her. His wife died at the same age you were.

Taehyung and her were both idiots and thought that living far away was all it took to escape the infection.

It was stupid of him to let her go hunting alone that day, he shouldn't have let a simple fever keep him in bed when she was out there.

He spent years waiting for her to come back. Waiting for some afternoon that he will hear her quick steps coming down the gravel road. Much later, he found a piece of her shirt floating on the bank of a river.

Taehyung closed his eyes and nodded. It was dangerous to let you stay, he still didn't fully trust you. But what was the use of being alone so much when he only waited for the next day and the day after until one day he could die naturally?

Your body tensed as his hand rose to sink into your hair and kiss your forehead. So delicate, without causing any noise.

"Sleep well," he whispered leaving the book on the table. His chest hurt with the immense amount of feelings you make him feel in one day.

It's overbearing and he loved it. But his poor soul needed time.

For the first time in all that time together, he decided to sleep on the first floor.

You didn't know what to say, you were already ready for him to just ask you to leave. So you were thankful he actually just…left.

When the door creaked shut, you let loneliness engulf you. You cried, glued to the pillow like a child. Of relief, of uncertainty, for that kiss.

The days are long when there is nothing to say. When you don't look at him, when you ignore him with your unsubtle ways: you leave your clothes poorly folded, you don't finish the dishes he makes for you, your cigarettes are badly rolled, and you punish him by wearing those shirts that reveal your cleavage.

If you knew what you did to him, would you take advantage of him? Would he hate it?

Taehyung can feel your eyes on his back as he tries to light the fireplace at night, the cold is cruel in the mountains, even crueler than the tension in the small living room. You find yourself sitting watching the flame grow and grow, Taehyung trying to appear as calm as possible as if he didn't have the gears of his brain fed up trying to figure out how to talk to you.

Apart from a 'what do you want for dinner?', a 'yes' or a 'no'.

He felt he talked more with poor Frank, who slept about eighteen hours a day.

He cleared his throat at the smoke and held up his hand for more newspaper. You gave it instantly. And suddenly, a miracle: for the first time in weeks, your voice.

"Tomorrow is my birthday," you said embarrassedly, arms crossed.

With a tight-lipped smile on Kim's mouth, he nodded and looked into your tired eyes.

Your voice was still just as sweet and calm, you wanted to try to sound weary. But he noticed every afternoon when he came home from hunting, the way you moved through the little orchard and sang while you bathed Frank. Your laughter was his antidote, it healed his tiredness and the ache of his soul.

"We should celebrate it." He proposed, but you instantly denied it.

"I want you to take me."

"What do you mean?" he blushed, looking deep into your eyes.

"Take me somewhere."

Taehyung dropped the newspaper on the fire. He sighed softly, (not in relief, but disappointed) and sat in the old chair in the corner, legs apart as he rolled a cigarette.

"Where do you want to go?"

"To the house on top." you pointed east.

"How do you know there's a house on top?"

"Because I saw it in your drawings." your pupils let you see its shine for the first time in weeks. The cold made you look so beautiful. The little contact he had with you, he missed it so much.

Your cheeks took on color with the coming of winter, your lips like two slices of ripe fruit, red and full of juice. "And I found your binoculars in the warehouse."

"Mm," he couldn't even get mad at you and your insatiable curiosity. He was glad to hear you. Besides, who was he to deny you going up to that abandoned mansion, even when fear consumed him that they would attack you?

"Sure, we'll go." you let the corner of your lips rise, Taehyung feigned seriousness. "But it can't be tomorrow. We need at least two days of walking to get there, and we have to prepare."

You licked your lips and got up, letting the cloth that wrapped you from head to toe fall to your shoulders. You raised your arms, and Taehyung frowned, not understanding the gesture.

"Come here, it's almost twelve, and I'm going to be twenty-one."

Although they both knew that no clock gave them a certain time, Kim didn't care and you less. Leaving the cigarette next to him, he stood up and awkwardly let his strong arms swallow you, your head on his chest.

The hug was a thank you from you, but with just a few more seconds, you realized that Taehyung didn't want to let go. You opened your eyes, he could feel your confusion.

"Just-" he stammered, tensing his arms a little more to bring you closer to the warmth of his body. Silence.

Rich and peachy.

"What?"

"No, nevermind."

"Kim." you wanted to look at his eyes but didn't let you.

"I haven't hugged anyone in years." he murmured, a sigh of relief.

The confession made your chest sink. The breathing of the man in your arms was soft and ragged. As if he was nervous.

"Can you play with my hair?" he hummed, timid and needy, warming your shoulder with his breath; chills covering your skin.

You let your fingers explore his fluffy hair, the little ripples covering your palm and fingertips. You heard another sigh from him and felt how his arms slid to hug the sides of your waist.

"Feels good?" you dared to ask, breathing the musk on his jacket. He just nodded longingly, closed eyes and brows knitted; the crackle of the fire in the fireplace melting his heart.

Your throat was dry, and your lips parted, God knows you wanted to enjoy that hug, how Taehyung bent his body slightly to hide his head in your neck. Perhaps it was the lack of contact or the fire in the fireplace, but your body bubbled over a slow fire with each exhale that collided with your neck.

"Tae-" you swallowed and grabbed his shoulders so he could see you.

The drunkenness in the eyes of the man in front of you was so short but so sweet. Discovering his attitude, he pricked the bridge of his nose and cleared his throat.

"Sorry, don't worry about the trip. We can start packing tomorrow."

"I think I remember some of what happened to me."

"Oh." His eyes widened, gesturing as he tried to ask you to explain. You loved the gestures that came out of Taehyung when he didn't know the protocol of conversations. It wasn't 'thank you', but a tightening of the lips into a brief smile; no 'Don't move' when he painted but a little grunt and a deny.

You both took a seat on the furniture and got as close as possible, there was no one around, but this was how both of you got used to talking to each other. Whispers, watching each other's lips and laughter, when it was intended, with the hand on the mouth.

"I remember a boat, I remember several women and two men," you murmured, your eyes tilted into the fire. "A group came on another boat and threw us on the shore, they beat the men so much that they died and left the women to suffer."

Kim bit the inside of his cheek, he knew the day you would remember your past would be difficult. The beginning of the lethal virus was so surreal for him.

"I don't remember their faces much, just their hair. I remember…one feverish night, the women covered me with a blue coat that they had taken from one of the men." your hand trembled, and Taehyung took it without hesitating. "When I woke up, they were all in stage two."

Stage two of the virus was when their bodies began to slow down, sleep being the main activity, even at times when they needed to urinate. Your body didn't feel like getting up.

Taehyung remembers how one of his college classmates slept fully for two days, he opened his eyes when called but closed them instantly.

"When I saw them I thought the same thing was going to happen to me, apparently they killed an infected animal and ate it among themselves without giving me a piece. I don't blame them. I also thought the fever was going to kill me that night," you shrugged. "When I woke up I found trash, fruit, and headless bugs on the floor. The virus searched for everything it could to feed before going into coma…, and then, um-"

Your gaze drifted away, as if you saw the women sprawled on their backs with their mouths open and sunken eyes on the cabin rug.

"Their bodies started to swell, their chests and stomachs and throats. The eggs-" you denied and Taehyung felt chills. "They began to grow and incubate, I cried for hours and hours in silence, sitting on a log." your voice quivered. "I crossed the river at low tide, and stayed on the rocks to wait."

"You were sent to explore the area. You were the same as I was years ago." Taehyung bit his lip, squeezing your hand.

"I don't understand."

"I thought they didn't send scouts to this area anymore. The infection is so old I thought they wouldn't need any more information."

"What do you mean when you say you were the same?" You frowned and stared at him.

"I was a soldier, my family needed money, and the doctors found a way to make us think they could save my dad from the virus." the memories made his tense neck move involuntarily. "They sent me to this side to find information about the virus, the source."

"You and how many others?"

Taehyung shook his head with a sad smile. Maybe he was even making up the story of his father getting sick, who knows at this point?

"I still don't remember. I just know that I kept walking and walking wit this girl by my side,until we found this hill, and even she disappeared."

They both fell silent. Taehyung had already told you about the disappearance of his wife, unlike other topics, this was the one that seemed like a fable. There were no traces, like smoke that vanished on a sunset.

You can see on his eyes that ache every time he mentions her; you wish you could lick his old wounds, not to cure them, but to soothe the pain.

The way he was holding your hand and the fire trembling on his tan skin made him look like an angel. An untamed one leaves instead of feathers, strong arms to carry the world around him.

You couldn't take it anymore.

"Taehyung," you called, and he didn't have to move because your hand took him by surprise. Guiding him to your hungry lips.

He moaned lowly, making his free hand into a fist to control the euphoria that was running through his body. The wet sound of your mouths devouring each other, he didn't know how much he needed that, the warmth of your tongue licking his lips, the little pant coming out of your strawberry lips.

Oh, how much he hated the fact that he was getting hard just from a kiss, but how couldn't he, good God? You were so delicious.

He snatched his hand from yours and took both of your hands to squeeze above your head. Your back arched, and you mewled as you felt his hand squeeze your wrists.

Taehyung's eyes flickered to your face. Was he doubting what he was doing? Did you do something wrong?

"If you want to stop-"

"No," he growled desperately. With ease, his free hand grabbed the hair at the nape of your neck and kissed you again, clashing teeth.

"Slow down, Kim." you gasped as he devoured your neck, covering in saliva the fabric of the coat that covered you, almost tearing it apart.

Your hand explored his corduroy pants until it reached the tight bulge against his thigh.

"No. I don't want to," he screeched as he watched what you were doing. "Please, I'm too sensitive right now." It was a plea for you to let him enjoy touching you for a few more minutes, his glassy eyes and red lips.

You were cruel, and God, how he hated you for that. You chuckled low and spread your legs to climb into his lap. The sudden movement knocked the air out of him, hands on either side of the couch.

In one sitting, you were pressing his cock against your clothed pussy.

"Oh no, please. Let me-," his hands went to his mouth, squeezing it hard, the words coming out muffled.

With so few moans he had you addicted to his susceptibility. To his droopy eyes and his angelic whimpers over every little thing you did.

"Please," he asked again but it was in vain when you started moving back and forth and licking his neck. "Fuck me, i can't. Baby-" he mumbled rolling his eyes, reaching heaven with so little. The 'baby' scaped again and again from his lips until it died out.

It was embarrassing, but so sublime.

You loved it. No. You became obsessed.

When he finished, you could feel the wetness on his thigh. You laughed again, taking his face in your fingers; he hung from your fingertips like a puppet. His chin resting on them.

"You look so cute when you're sweaty in the middle of a blizzard," you said. He closed his eyes, enjoying the compliment.

Without saying anything else, leaving a wet spot on top of his zipper and his mouth open; you got up and went up the rustic stairs.

You were going to be the death of him.

The morning arrives quietly and with the sun coming in gently through the windows, you are grateful that the snow has stopped as you get up to put on your socks. Frank was sleeping between woolen sheets in the closet. When he heard you calling him he opened his eyes and lazily moved his thick tail.

The bed was made on Taehyung's side. Last night you hardly slept thinking about what you two had done in the living room, you waited anxiously for him to go to the room to finish what you had started, but you fell asleep waiting for him.

Maybe he was upset because you rushed him or he was embarrassed. Either way, you could still feel the moisture your pussy had let out just thinking about his face coming. Like a broken record, just as his pelvis raised to make one last contact with your clit.

You sighed and let the cool water calm your arousal. The small mirror showed your reflection, you were pale. Since the sun doesn't rise so often, you feel like you're withering. The tinting of your cheeks was already disappearing.

Your eyes were guided to the small photo pasted on the mirror, it was an ID with your face. The ink on the image was fading, with your name and date of birth right next to it.

It was the only thing you had for sure, maybe your face wasn't even that one. You returned to your reflection and began to notice every little detail: the dark circles under your eyes and the dry lips from biting them so much, the slightly yellowish teeth, and the eye that was smaller than the other. 

That's new, you thought. Only if you looked hard enough could you see how your right eye involuntarily closed a little more than the other, the more you looked at it in the mirror, the more obvious it was.

The sound of a pot falling followed by a grunt made you snap out of your morning exam. You walked quickly to the stairs going down in a hurry.

You were surprised to see Taehyung in the kitchen, his hands covered in whipped cream and the sweet smell of freshly baked bread. A small tight smile apologizing for waking you up.

"Uh," he wiped his hands clean and leaned closer to you, placing an awkward kiss on your forehead. "Happy Birthday."

"Thank you." You smiled softly, his hand found yours to guide you to the rustic table that he had made years ago, it was heavy and robust. It combined with everything that was seen in that kitchen, small details you had done here and there, but the smell of oak and the thick fabric of the curtains and the tablecloth were essentially Taehyung.

"I made you breakfast. You must eat it all or I'm really going to stop talking to you for a month."

As if he could.

"Because?"

"I spent all night trying to make whipped cream, found a book in the stack and it took me almost a dozen eggs to get it right."

"That's where you were last night." You smiled and he tensed, embarrassment painting his cheeks red. "Did you need a book to know how to follow our...?" You made an obscene gesture that made Taehyung turn to finish breakfast.

"You are so intense in the mornings."

"You've stopped smoking in the morning, have you noticed?"

Taehyung frowned. "It's true."

"I annoy you so much you don't need the nicotine to wake up."

"If that achievement makes you happy, go ahead." He crossed his legs as he sat down next to you. "Bon appétit."

You looked in front of you, on your plate was a piece of freshly baked bread toasted in the color of the sun. The whipped cream was smooth and slightly eggy, with peach slices decorated on top creating an attempt at a flower. The smell was intoxicating and your mouth watered from it.

Taehyung's chest swelled with joy as you took the first bite and inhaled. You looked at him tenderly. That human habit of food being the perfect language to show love without touching.

"It's good," you agreed taking another bite. "Did you try it?"

Taehyung denied raising his hand to ask you to continue tasting.

"I have something else for you," he said before you took another bite. You could see and hear in the silence of the kitchen how his foot bounced with eagerness to show you the other things.

Taehyung took a paper bag from his jacket hanging on the door and put it on your lap. His hands didn't let you open the material, kneeling on the floor in front of you.

"Slow down, Kim. For God's sake." you laughed looking at him. He imitated you.

"Sorry, it's just that I've been saving this for a long time."

You couldn't stop seeing him, it was impossible how much you loved him in such a short time. You looked down at your lap as he lowered your chin with his hand.

Inside the paper were many trinkets, colorful and very varied. Buttons, an old lighter with a rose carved on it, a ring in the shape of a butterfly, a deep red dried ink, and underneath it all the pale lace of a lingerie set.

You smiled as you put everything else aside and looked at the pieces in detail.

"Isn't there a more subtle way of saying you want to fuck me?" you joked

Taehyung didn't laugh, again he was looking at you with nervous eyes.

"I want to give you a portrait."

You put the lingerie on the table and looked at him. You knew that his painting materials were becoming more and more scarce. You denied it instantly.

"Don't worry, I'll use some oils that I have saved, they are in perfect condition and I want to use them with you." he rose clutching your face in his hands, like something ethereal. How could he see you in the morning and make you feel so lovely?

"I want to paint your lips," he ran his thumb over your bottom lip, "And your eyes."

"Even when one is smaller?"

He chuckled slightly at your sweet question.

"Especially the smaller one."

His hand grabbed the last bite of toast and opened your mouth with his thumb, delicately inserting it. "I told you to eat it all." his face was serious.

His thumb began to smear all the cream that remained in the corners of your mouth, pressing your lips while your tongue tried to lick his fingers.

"That is my girl." he hummed cocking his head at you.

Your toes tensed when you heard him say that.

"Open up," he commanded and you obeyed, opening your mouth to remove the sticky cream from his finger. He swallowedwhen he saw you lick every drop.

Your beautiful face, your messy hair, and your mouth covered in peach juices and whipped cream. So sweet and erotic that it made his stomach clench with the urge to eat you.

"I would like you to paint me in the summer, though."

"Because?"

"Because that way I could return the color to my cheeks, to see myself more..." you didn't know what the word was.

Taehyung could have cared less.

"Fine." he sighed and tossed the plate to the side with a crash. Suddenly, you were in his arms, he laid you down gently on the wood of the table.

"Tae?" a squeal came from you when you felt the cold in your pussy, Taehyung ripped your panties and began to rub his digits on your clit with such delicacy.

"Shh," he responded, grabbing the chair to walk over to the table and sit down. With one hand he brought your body closer to his face and began to run his tongue through your folds.

This is what he wanted to do last night and you didn't let him.

Your legs began to shake and he looked up through narrowed eyes. Your surprised face was so funny, it almost made him want to let you cum as fast as you let him.

"Spread your legs, let me see you." there was something so obscene about the way his voice deepened. He embarrassed you. "Aren't you going to let me eat you?"

You didn't know what to say.

"What happened that pretty girl who wouldn't shut the fuck up, huh?" His wet lips kissed your entrance with each word. "Where are your smart answers and the fucking questions about how I jerk off?" With one hand he hit your clit and you whimpered. "There it is." he smiled.

"God," you moaned so loud trying to get your nightgown down, it hurt so good. Taehyung squeezed your wrists with one hand and started devouring you again, your juices flowing on his nose and his tongue and you knew how much he liked it by the way he growled and bit the inside of your thigh.

It hurt but you couldn't stop moaning, your hands turning into claws from the tension wanting to grab his tangled hair, to see his face covered with it in a transparent and shiny layer.

"Atta, girl," he inhaled, snapping back. "Look at you," he smiled at you as he licked the edges of his lips. "The color is returning to your cheeks."

"What?" You stuttered before you felt how his hand collided with your ass. You screamed biting your lip.

"Come here."

His hand carried you to help your weak legs. With his hands under your armpits, he led you to the nearest wall.

"Get naked, pet."

"It's cold."

"Still?" Taehyung asked confused and piled the fabric of your dress in his hand until he found your wet pussy again. Without saying much, he inserted two fingers, curling the tips.

"More," you whispered, you were short of breath and you felt like you were in another cosmic plane with the long fingers of the man behind you.

His other hand began stroking your tummy until it reached your neck, squeezing gently. Hearing your sweet request, he laughed.

"You're a mess and I haven't even fucked you. Are you sure?"

You nodded awkwardly, your head pressed against the wall. A third finger was unexpected and burned.

"You're so wet, it's not fair." Kim sighed. "I want to do everything for you but you won't let me with that little body of yours."

"Mm," was all you could answer, your tongue was heavy and the knot under your stomach had you seeing stars.

"Those short dresses and the laughter and the erotic books and your perfect tits." he moaned turning you around to remove your dress.

Seeing your face again, Taehyung made up his mind; he couldn't take it anymore. Whipped cream decorated your cheek and your open mouth.

"Are you still cold?" His eyes saw you straight into your soul. You denied hugging his neck, hitting your lips with his.

If you didn't kiss him you felt like you were going to implode. His furrowed brows and his broad shoulders, the way he'd talk dirty to you but he'd kiss your shoulder calming your nerves.

There it was again, that tickle in your throat of saying things at the wrong time.

Shut me up with kisses, you thought, shut me up by sealing your lips with mine.

"More." Now it was Taehyung's turn to ask, moaning as he felt how your naked body hung from his waist.

He quickly lowered his pants until he took it off completely. Then his coat.

"Down," he murmured kissing you one last time crashing your body into the wall.

With one hand you grabbed his cock and started to move your hand. A cry came from him and you both nearly fell to the ground in a crash. Taehyung's legs failing from the sudden touch.

You laughed at Taehyung's irate gesture.

"In four. Now," he barked, after kissing you softly. "I want to fuck you, I don't want games anymore, 'kay?"

You nodded drunkenly at the way he spoke to you.

You stopped smiling when he repositioned you like a doll on your knees and hands.

You arched your back as you felt the tip stretch your entrance, you closed your eyes in pure pleasure. The sting was unbelievable, perfect.

"Mmhm," Taehyung ran his finger down your back, "Let me listen to you, love."

How can he call you that without melting?

You pushed yourself into him until your ass touched his pelvis. You both moaned each other's name.

"Fuck," he mumbled, grabbing both sides of your waist to guide your movements. The sounds that filled the kitchen were indecent, your cream accumulated at the base of his cock and your moans drove him crazy.

Yes, he was like a schoolboy when it came to you, he couldn't see your cleavage without wanting to touch himself or look at your lips without wanting to bite them so badly that they bled. You were in addition to his antidote, his new favorite morbidity.

"Atta girl, squeeze me more," he hissed at you slowing his pace down. His moans turned to whimpers as you began to feel the cum dripping down your thighs. You were about to cum and he could feel it. "Let me feel those walls, baby. Cum for me."

You lifted your upper body so you could move against him and with two brushes of his fingers on your puffy clit you began to scream his name letting your face fall into your hands.

You both panted hard, abruptly, Taehyung pulled his cock out, revealing how his cum came out of you. God, he prays that this is the one that knocks you up.

Getting up, he grabbed your delicate body and took you to the sofa, lit the fireplace, and left you alone for a few minutes. When he returned he brought with him a blank canvas the length of his forearm and a couple of charcoal pencils.

The afterglow had your cheeks with the most beautiful tint. Flushed and plump lips from biting it so much. You let your hair do what it wants, just how he likes it and you smiled at him when he sat down in front of you. You squinted your eyes when you smiled and his shoulders relaxed.

"Stay still, please," he whispered while he took a pencil in his hands.

[hurts2think]

Hook × morgie- it's saddening how little of them their is in this world :(

🏴‍☠️Young!James Hook x Morgie Le Fay Dating Headcanons🐍

Pairing: Morgie Le Fay x Young!James Hook

Plot: Just dating headcanons of them getting into some shenanigans!

Extra: Hey guys! I'm still sick and haven't been able to write. I've been resting but I feel horrible so I did this for you all! Hooksie one of my favorite ships🫶

- They have one singular braincell that they share

- Black cat x orange cat dynamic

- A couple months before they started dating, most people already assumed they were dating because they mostly acted like it and they were both just oblivious

- Hook always tries to find ways to annoy Uliana and Morgie always tries stopping him. Uliana is annoyed either way

- Hook always suggests they study together, knowing damn well they will not be studying and just goof off the whole time

- Neither of them are used to emotional intimacy so it was very awkward when they first started dating

- After the initial awkwardness they easily became the most annoying couple in school

- They set up a bunch of candles and flowers and make the mood very romantic just to play Uno and yell at each other

- They’re both very romantic but a little tone deaf

- They argue but most of the time only one of them is arguing and the other has no idea

- “You know what? I’m done arguing.” “We were arguing?”

- They’re banned from most public spaces. Restaurants, parks, grocery stores, malls, pretty much anywhere

- ^ usually banned due to their dates and getting in trouble. Whether it was intentional or not

- Always doing stupid dangerous teenager stuff in the middle of the night and calling it a date

- ^ climbing fences, pushing each other down hills in a stolen shopping cart, trespassing, graffiti, TPing houses, ect

- They often trespass into this field that gives the perfect views of the stars. There’s a little stone bench and some animals and they just hold hands and point out the stars.

- They sneak into movies all the time.

- The one place they aren’t banned from and don't have to sneak into is the arcade

- ^ They’re lovers but become rivals the moment they step into the arcade. Always trying to beat each other’s highest scores. They’re definitely regulars there

- They record mixtapes for each other on cassettes like every other month. Listening to them 24/7

- ^ These playlists definitely have Guns n Roses, U2, Queen, AC/DC, and more

- They do movie nights with movies they'll think they'd make fun of but end up loving it

- ^ The Princess Bride and Heathers is definitely one of those movies

- Hook is more affectionate than Morgie but Morgie loves the affection. They're still both very clingy

- Hook always pulling in Morgie for kisses

- They both fluster each other so much. Hook usually does flusters Morgie on purpose and Morgie usually flusters Hook on accident but finds it adorable

- They have attempted to start a band with the other VKs multiple times but it has never worked out

- They cuddle 24/7 and kiss and hold hands and are literally piling on each other, trying to be as physically close as possible

- If one of them is out from school because he's sick, the other will skip school to take care of him

- They always do cringey obscure couple Halloween costumes that no one understands

- When they goof off in class and the teacher is lecturing them, they definitely keep looking at each other and have to hold in from busting out laughing

- ^ Detention buddies

- Morgie leaves little sticky note drawings and letters for Hook just throughout the day.

- ^ Hook keeps a couple of them in his wallet

- Theatre kids and definitely make jokes about their chatacters dating each other in the show

- Overall they just get into so much trouble with their shenanigans and are very clingy

[rejectedbytheempty]

could you write a story about enemies hero and villain that have to learn to care for each other while stranded somewhere? and the hero gets hurt and doesn’t want to tell the villain cause he doesn’t wanna seem weak in front of him, but the villain figures it out because the hero is in pain?

HELL YEAH that’s what i’m talkin about babey. so anyways, i wrote it, hopefully it isn’t too much like the ramblings of a madwoman. but i saw that you requested other things and i def will be getting to them (or at least probably)

TRAPPED

pt 2

tw: blood

“I guess this is what happens when you work with a villain,” Hero lamented, slumped against the gray brick of the cell wall.

Villain whipped their head to look at Hero, anger flaring in their eyes, “You were the one who screwed everything up, I wanted to do this alone, but no, you couldn’t leave well enough alone.” Villain had heard through the grapevine that Supervillain was planning on building some kind of super weapon that they planned to use to subdue the city and take despotic rule over it. As much as Villain could care less about the city, they did care about Supervillain having their go at dictatorship, they were known for being horribly cruel and Villain didn’t want to be at the other end of the smoking gun, so to speak. So Villain planned to break into Supervillain’s facility and hopefully destroy their plans, or at least get a good notion of how far away they should move to avoid the fallout. It was too bad that Hero had decided to interfere with their plans, for some reason that insufferable goody two shoes always stuck their nose in things that didn’t concern them. Hero tagged along, and because the two of them have never worked too well with each other (i.e. at all), they were captured by a bunch of Supervillain’s goons and stuffed in this dingy cell.

“If you went alone, then you would be in this cell by yourself, so maybe you should be grateful that you have company,” Hero said with a small smile on their face.

Villain sighed, “First of all, not true. Second, I could name a dozen other people I would rather have as company.” Hero laughed, but for a moment, the side of their lip twinged up in a wince. It was quick enough that anyone else wouldn’t have caught it, but Villain narrowed their eyes in suspicion.

Hero’s amused face quickly melted into confusion, “What? What’s wrong?”

Villain rose up from where they were sitting and strode forward towards Hero, “I should be the one asking you that, isn’t that right, Hero?”

Hero swallowed nervously and shifted in their seat uncomfortably, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Villain was quick to snatch Hero’s arm, which had been sitting in a seemingly relaxed position over their stomach. There was a large gash in Hero’s side, with dark, bloody stains spreading to either side of the split fabric of their uniform. Hero tried in vain to pull their arm back from Villain’s grip, but only succeeded in pulling their injury taut, to which they hissed in pain.

“When did this happen?”

With a grimace, Hero explained, “In the fight, when we were discovered, one of the guards managed to get me with their knife. I didn’t really notice how bad it was until we were walking to the cell and I looked down..”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Villain demanded.

Hero shook their head and laughed softly, more in a bitter way than in humor, “I.. I don’t know. I just didn’t want to seem weak, I suppose.”

Villain’s expression softened slightly and they released the hold they had on Hero’s arm, and Hero was quick to draw their arm back to their body.

“Christ, Hero, that was dumb. I’m not- well, I’m not that much of a villain.”

Hero avoided Villain’s pitying gaze, setting their jaw before saying, “It’s bad enough that I dragged you down with me, I didn’t want to be more of a burden.”

Villain reached out, gently grabbing Hero’s jaw and guiding them to look face-to-face with Villain, “You are not, and never will be a burden.” Hero opened their mouth to say something but was interrupted by a loud clapping noise that echoed through the cell.

Villain and Hero looked up to see Supervillain standing there, clapping slowly. “Touching stuff, really,” they said with a bone-chilling grin on their face. The moment that Supervillain had made themself known, Villain had stepped away from Hero, hardening their gaze once again. Hero breathed heavily, trying to subdue the obvious fear that was overtaking them.

“You know, I had only planned to catch one but what luck that Hero showed up! And all it took was the rumor that I was building some kind of superweapon, as if I would ever do that, takes out the personal aspect to this job that I so love,” Supervillain said, maintaining a superficially cheery tone.

Villain stumbled back at this, heart sinking to the bottom of their chest, “It was fake?”

Supervillain’s booming laugh bounced off the stone walls, “Thought you would have been smart enough to figure it out by now, but I expect too much, I suppose.”

Villain glanced over at Hero who was staring dissociatively at the ground, chest heaving as they breathed heavily through their nose.

“Oh! Looks like your little friend there is about to pass out. Poor thing, probably scared out of their mind. But, maybe it’s the blood loss that’s finally getting to their head.”

Villain saw red, they slammed against the cell bars, “Let them go. Right. Now. They had nothing to do with this, I’m the one you want.”

Supervillain’s grin didn’t even fall for a moment, “No, I don’t think I will. This is just too much fun, it’s even better than I thought. Sadly, I do have to get back to my scheming, maybe I will actually build a superweapon this time. I’ll be back soon though, so don’t you worry,” Supervillain said, booping Villain’s nose, to which Villain backed away in anger and surprise.

“Toodaloo, Hero!” Supervillain said playfully, waving goodbye before heading towards the door, leaving Villain and Hero back to complete silence.

A/N: okey, lmk what you guys thought and if i should do a part 2 or whateva

[angermango]

"I'm not cooking or anything, this is just a silly idea- (looks down at canvas) ffffuuuu--"

...

so, first I only wanted to draw Professor Layton with a Reiterpallasch from Bloodborne because haha funny hat man with gun-sword, but then i ended up drafting concept art for "Laytonborne", apparently.

"Puzzles all over the shop... You'll be stuck on one of them, sooner or later."

extra artist commentary:

Layton

yes, this really did just start with me wanting to give Layton a Reiterpallasch because he's a canonical fencer and Bloodborne trick weapons absolutely slap. The Reiterpallasch is literally a rapier with a pistol attached that can mechanically switch to prime either the blade first or the gun first so you can stab and shoot someone at the same time.

Giving Hershel the Bloodborne makeover was kind of funny because he wears such a simple look in canon it was hard striking the right balance between his recognisable look and BB aestheic since Bloodborne loves embellishment especially via lots of belts/buckles and those weird shoulder-cape things. I tried to keep it simple enough though because as much as i think he could pull off a hunter ensemble i don't want to have to keep track of all the funky bits. the Top Hat Stays, of course.

Aurora

Aurora is eerily good a fit in a Soulsborne-esque setting considering she fits the criteria for a "Soulsborne maiden" classic archetype sort of character: After all she's a mysterious pale-haired young woman with mystical origins/powers and a foreign-sounding accent and may or may not have some connection to the wider lore and powers that be of the setting. hell even her whole thing being a golem works in a way as even Bloodborne has artificial humans existing as a concept.

i got a little lazy with changing up her dress for both time and lack of inspiration. I thought maybe i'd really do her up but then I chickened out that her costume wouldn't be recognisable any more so just slapped a belt and some patterns on the shawl bit and called it a night :P (if i'd been braver/more motivated she'd probably look good in an approximation of the White Church set, something like that)

and yeah so as the sketches off to the side are like, no real clue how/why it might be triggered but imagine her having the potential to be an optional boss or something (and she'd whoop your ass)

Flora

idk tho Flora also seems like she could be a good contender for the "Soulsborne maiden" position too in a way, or even if not her whole character and story fits into the world quite well. especially with Bloodborne having the Plain Doll who is a sentient doll made in the image of someone her creator loved/was obsessed with and Flora living in a village of human-like robots which started after her father tried to build a replacement for her dead mother.

Her dress is a combination of all her canon costumes across the games. The fur-trim shoulder cape is from one official art of her, the short shawl and white sleeves and bit around her waist is based on her first dress, and the rest of the dress design is based on her second and third game appearance.

The 'Doll Flora' concept there at the end is just some idea of a false/clone Flora running around as well. She's got some little differences including elements of other parts of Flora's designs over the years that aren't on OG Flora, such as the sash and shoes.

Anton

Anton fits in scarily well to the Bloodborne-y setting, perhaps not too surprisingly given the whole 'vampire' thingy. I sort of envision Folsense and Herzen Castle being a bit like the Castle Cainhurst area of Bloodborne which leans more into the classic gothic horror of a remote and looming haunted castle occupied by a sinister enigmatic character.

And yes, that is a reference to the infamous "LAYTOOON" scream from his canon 'boss fight' in the second game - imagine the whole steaming up and screaming thing being like his boss phase transition animation.

The whole 'withers to an old man/husk' concept seems so very Soulsborne-y it really just fits yknow. like if you defeat him he shrivels up/ages to dust or whatever. RIP gassed-up grandpa.

I partly rizzed up his suit using inspiration of the Cainhurst Knight set because like. come on. it's too good to pass up the chance to pretty up with and looks a lot like his canon suit in parts.

Did I trace the foyer background art for Herzen Castle for the mockup just for laffs, only to realise partway that 1) Layton and Anton actually fought in the ballroom, and 2) the ballroom would actually make a much better boss arena setting because it's wide open and the arch from the front room leading into the ballroom could totally be the 'boss fog door' part better than the front room?

...so yeah I then drew the ballroom background without tracing this time like a true madman and had a hell of a time with perspective but the plus side is we also get the sword collection from the game there as a cameo because in Laytonborne the good professor brought his own already.

The Masked Gentleman / Randall

Had a bit of a time deciding how to Bloodborne-ify this guy because his suit in canon is actually really. really boring. it's just a white suit like cmon. so to give it that Bloodborne makeover I fell back on the classic shoulder-cape thing that almost all Bloodborne characters have, added some patterns and accessories based on the Mask of Chaos' patterns and the Decorative Old Hunter's set from the Old Hunters DLC (in the leg brace, forearm guard and the hints of gold chains around the upper arms).

He also gets a Threaded Cane, another trick weapon of Bloodborne fame which is as it suggests: A cane weapon that works a bit like a baton/sword combo but in its alternate form it's a whip covered in serrated metal blades which form the cane itself when locked together.

It seems very appropriate for Randall to be like a boss who starts out as the Masked Gentleman and then at half-or-less health you break his mask, reveal Randall and then wings burst out of his back as he enters his second phase rage mode. This concept part felt more DSouls-y than Bloodborne-y to me i think since Bloodborne is less fantastical and leans more into the body horror/monstrous kind of boss transitions? But at the same time it was too good an opportunity to pass on at least sketching out, plus get you some sick fallen angel imagery out of it.

Also the hanging arm pose miiight be a bit inspired by Artorias of the Abyss. just a bit.

Descole

i recall seeing a post somewhere once with this very low-res rare art of Descole sitting in a throne from somewhere i have no idea what it was for. and I remember it kinda reminded me of Lady Maria's promotional art for the Old Hunters DLC so that's why the last picture of Descole exists.

mf already dresses so extra i legit could think of nothing to add to make him more Bloodborne-y unlike the others. I also used his canon sword's design from the games with a custom sheath because again couldn't really think of anything more to do to make him fit more when he's already got a cool signature weapon to show off.

[bruh-2004]

Cockwarming w/ XDH ♤

genre: smut, suggestive, fluff at times. warnings: explicit, fingering, sitting on laps, riding on thighs, penetration without stimulation.

O.DE

- he would have given the idea, composing music only in silence was making him bored and obviously having you sitting on his lap, without your underwear and straddling him would be much more interesting;

- you accepted, in fact it wouldn't be the first time you were on his lap while he was working on something, but it would be the first time without your underwear and straddling him;

- o.de ordered you to just stay in place, without moving or trying to be smart;

- he would make a point of making some movements with his legs just to make you move/roll around slightly;

- "what was love? Can't you just feel it and not bounce?" he would say when you couldn't stand it and started to ride lightly;

- you would end up becoming a mess, he would make you bounce on him willingly, he wouldn't let you get off of him without cumming.

JOOYEON

- the idea would have been shared between the two of you, you both wanted to test something new and then came to this decision;

- jooyeon was leaning against the headboard of the bed completely naked while you were just in your panties (a fetish for fucking without taking off your partner's panties? he certainly would have one);

- you sat on him and ended up realizing that it wouldn't be easy at all, Jooyeon obviously wasn't going to make it easy for you, making a point of caressing you and squeezing your breasts;

- "seeing your face in pain is making me more excited, love, I'm going to end up surrendering like this" "what if I just touched your clitoris, hmm?";

- he would do this without you even responding, involuntarily you would start to roll slowly on his dick trying to follow the movements he made with his fingers in your intimacy;

- jooyeon would end up not being able to take it either, he would release you to bounce on him and relieve all that accumulated lust.

JUNHAN

- the idea would come from you and don't think that it would have been that easy to convince our mini darling to accept (but because he loves you you would be able to achieve your goal);

- you asked him to distract himself by trying to draw something on a notebook sheet, that way he would be less embarrassed;

- while he started to draw something you positioned his member at your entrance and sat down slowly on purpose just to see him shrink slightly and bite his lips;

- you kept trying to talk about the drawing he was trying to make, but you didn't make it easier for him when you moved slightly to see the drawing better, one of his hands would automatically have gone to your waist, squeezing the area lightly;

- "y/o you promised you wouldn't move, try to keep your promise!" he would say making you laugh with cuteness, you would leave a kiss on his cheek and then say "sorry love, I was never good at keeping promises, you know" making a point of starting to move backwards;

- Junhan would try his best to hold back, but after you teased him so much, the boy started to move along, willing to give himself up, but you stopped him and got off of him saying "nothing like that, you didn't keep complaining until I convinced you? you don't deserve to fuck me today, love", you would leave leaving him confused and frustrated with the excitement (and you would also feel like going back on that decision).

GUN-IL

- "honey, have you ever heard of cockwarming?", and I need to say whose idea it was???;

- you were comfortably positioned on his dick while he focused his attention on a series he was watching;

- gun-il's strong arms were around your waist, sometimes he would caress the area, sometimes he would take his hands under your blouse, but one thing he would do every 5 minutes was kiss you;

- you couldn't hide how excited you were, your pussy started to contract on his dick and it was starting to make him crazy to fuck you, but gun-il would be able to hold back;

- "gun-il... please... I prefer it when your dick is moving deep inside me" now it was his turn to feel the biggest sting of pain due to the excitement;

- gun-il would have grabbed your neck and kissed you, then saying "you know what, fuck this, I'd rather be touching you too", he would throw you on the bed and finally fuck you the way you like.

JUNGSU

- in jungsu's case he would look for you and bring up the subject saying "s/o I was watching Twitter and something came up about cockwarming saying it was something that couples can try... can you explain to me what that means? ";

- you would explain it to him in detail and you would notice him getting a little shy, but to your surprise he would say "I understand, can we try?";

- obviously you accepted, jungsu is big and there would be nothing better than being very comfortable sitting on it;

- Jungsu knew that it was difficult for you to handle him all at first, so as a very helpful boyfriend he would have prepared you by sucking you with great dedication, making sure that it wouldn't hurt as much when you were going to sit on him;

- when you had finally welcomed his entire cock inside you, you would both give a low moan, knowing that this would be a great challenge to resist;

- Jungsu would be very observant, he would caress you, he would kiss you, making a point of squeezing your buttocks tightly just to make you move on him (one point: he would give you one of those naughty little smiles during the kiss), in the end it would end that the two of you would have surrendered and he would finally make you ride willingly.

GAON

- it would also have been a joint idea between you, you would have seen something about it on the internet and then you started talking about it and decided that you would try it;

- in gaon's case it would be a little different, instead of you sitting on him he would put you on all fours and leave his dick inside you in that position;

- man, jiseok would drive you crazy for sure, he would tease you by caressing your body, slapping and squeezing your buttocks, pulling your hair lightly, grabbing your neck while saying things like "let's see how long you can keep my dick inside of you without asking me to fuck you like a little whore";

- but you would be a little rebellious, sometimes you would make his dick stimulate you in a slow back and forth movement, gaon would give you strong slaps as a "reprimand", but he wouldn't stop you from doing that;

- you would change positions later, he would be on top of you, placing his dick in your intimacy again;

- despite a lot of teasing you would manage to keep your promise not to fuck like that, but gaon would definitely fuck you with his fingers and tongue making you squirt about three times.

[ohbo-ohno]

Post shock collar accident is roooouuugghh

Cause now it's, well simon said you can pick whatever you want for dinner but what if that's a test? What if you're going to get shocked again if you pick wrong?

Johnny said that he got you something to draw in but what if that's a test too?

You're now questioning every reward, every move every word, anticipating a shock for not learning some lesson that you aren't even sure is a lesson

And you can't even trust when they reassure you that it's okay cause the last time they said that they lied.

Cue groveling from them both, Johnny made a liar by association, simon an unintentional liar.

Outside time(not that you want it, much to bith their anguish) is put on pause and the collar is removed so simon can meticulously go over ever detail ever component because that shouldn't have happened. And he sees how far back it's sent you so the idea of it happening again makes him tremble.

Contemplates wearing it himself and giving the remote to Johnny because he feels like he needs to atone for this, cause not only do you not trust him, you don't trust Johnny.

shock collar asks: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

would lowkey drive them insane that you trust them so little - it's like that first day of your captivity all over again, before you realized they seemed to really mean it when they said they didn't want to hurt you (also pre escape punishments). but now? now you're terrified of them and it's justified. they promised you over and over and over again that the collar wouldn't go off, and it did. they lied to your face, the both of them, and you suffered because of it

so they're frustrated that you look at them like they've got a gun to your head when they ask if you'd like to go outside, but they also get it

and at first johnny was just endlessly mad at ghost - he's the one who didn't turn the collar off, this is all his fault. but then ghost is gone one day and johnny asks if you'd like to go outside and your reaction is just as bad as it's been every other time they've asked. he has to confront the fact that he also lied to you, that you don't trust him either :(

might even nix the shock collar completely. maybe you just won't be outside without one of them ever again, so they never have to worry about this

also simon giving johnny the collar to shock him with is a fantastic punishment but i don't think johnny would be into seeing ghost in pain

[multifandomwriter56]

As It Was

A/N: Hello! I know I've been MIA for a long time. Life has been crazy and going back to college while having a full time job has taken a lot of my time. But I'm hoping to get back to writing on this blog. I've missed it and I have missed everyone so much. I make no promises but I'm going to try.

Summary: Arthur and Y/n have always been super close; but when the boys get back from the war, things have change.

Characters: Arthur Shelby, Tommy Shelby, Sister!Reader

Warnings: language, mentions Arthur's attempt at suicide

Word Count: 2,698

*gif is not mine*

The rumor about the men who came back from the war are not the same men that left; It’s true. No one came back the same after the war. Not a single soul.

But it wasn’t just the soldiers who changed. Those who were stuck at home, waiting for their loved ones to return. They changed too.

Y/n couldn’t pinpoint exactly when she changed. She just remembers one day realizing she’s not the little girl who loved to draw rainbows, horses, and flowers anymore. Or the little girl who taught Finn how to aim at a moving rat, even though their Aunt Polly despised them touching guns. Not even the little girl who would take walks with her favorite brother, Arthur.

Y/n would never say she has a favorite brother aloud, but she knows her family sees how close the oldest brother and youngest sister are. There may be eighteen years difference between them, but they would sometimes act like twins.

Y/n enjoys John’s company and loves his jokes. Finn, she will always protect and care for. Ada, well they clash on fashion and boys, but they would kill for one another. And Tommy, well, the two siblings have never been able to get along. Tommy had big dreams that didn’t include his baby sister. Greta wanted to change the world and wanted Tommy to help her. Y/n wanted Tommy to help take care of the family instead of spending all his time at the docks waiting for the young woman to show up.

Even at a young age, Y/n knew it would always be Tommy who would provide for the family; be their leader. She loves Arthur, but he’s more of a follower than a leader. Tommy has always had ideas and Y/n knew those ideas would help them rise in Small Heath.

So with the boys off fighting in the war, Y/n made sure to follow her brother’s orders on how to run the shop.

Polly was the only one Y/n would let stray from Tommy’s list.

“You’re ten years old, Y/n. You are not the boss and know nothing about bets.” Her aunt admonishes.

“I know enough, Polly. I have Tommy’s list and Arthur’s notes.”

“So now you’re an expert at running betting shops?”

“I wasn’t saying that.” The ten year mumbles.

“Then you’ll do your best to remember who is in charge of the business.”

Y/n knows when to stop when it comes to her aunt. “Yes, ma’am.”

Y/n will admit, she learnt a lot from her aunt; not just business, but women’s business.

But now that the war is over, Y/n’s noticed how more involved Tommy is; how he keeps adding to the business.

Arthur is less present when it comes to his baby sister. They don’t go on walks anymore.

The fourteen year old moved into Arthur’s home when they came back. She wanted away from her very controlling brother and closer to the brother she knows best.

Except now, it seems that she understands Tommy more than she does Arthur.

The war may have changed all of her brothers, but something broke in Arthur. His nightmares keep her up at night and the one time she tried to wake him up, he almost choked her to death.

After that, she would either lay in her bed, listening to his screams or she would get John if the screams lasted longer than ten minutes.

“You shouldn’t be at Arthur’s alone.” Tommy tells his sister as he lit a cigarette.

“I’m not alone. Arthur is there.”

“You know what I mean, Y/n. Arthur is struggling and you being around isn’t helping.”

Y/n scoffs. “Actually, I think I help Arthur more than you can ever imagine trying to help him. You just hate that I’m not under your roof and you can’t boss me around.”

Tommy points his lit cigarette at her, his eyebrows raised in warning. “You will do as you're told or I will turn you over my knee.”

Y/n once again scoffs. Tommy has never disciplined her, he wasn’t ever around to take her in hand. That dirty task was left to their aunt. “Not only am I fourteen years old, but you have never raised a hand to me. Why start now?”

“Don’t push me, Y/n.”

Yeah, he’s bluffing, Y/n thinks. She stands to her feet. “Yes sir, Sergeant Major. If that’s all, Sergeant, I would like to finish my studies. Wouldn’t want to show up to school without my work now would we?”

Tommy pinches the bridge of his nose, resisting the urge to keep arguing with his sister. He, instead, waves his hand in a dismissive gesture without even glancing up.

The day Y/n dreaded came. Arthur had tried to commit suicide by hanging himself after he fell for their father’s con. She had found him at their home, raging and destroying the room. She skillfully dodged his swings and shouted at him.

“Arthur! It’s me! It’s Y/n!” She ducks when he throws an ashtray at her head. “It’s Y/n, brother!”

“Y/n?”

The broken voice has Y/n on the verge of tears. “Yes.” She nods her head. “It’s Y/n. I’m here.” She makes her way to her brother as his knees buckle and he lands on the floor. She holds him close, his chin digging into her shoulder as he sobs.

Y/n doesn’t know how long they stay in this position but she loses feeling in her left shoulder and feet.

When Arthur finally is able to compose himself, he stands to his feet, rubbing a shaking hand through his hair.

“Arthur, what happened to your neck?”

The older man covers the deep bruise around his neck. “Nothing.”

Y/n starts to shake her head, the pieces falling together. “No, no. You wouldn’t. You wouldn’t leave me here.” She stops talking but her head is still moving side to side; not wanting to accept that her brother, her hero, tried to kill himself.

“Y/n, I’m sorry, I-”

“No!” She sharply cuts him off. “Don’t apologize. I just need a moment to process.” She sits in a chair that he hadn’t flipped yet. “I need to figure out what to do. I need- no you need some of Polly’s ointment, and a drink… yeah, yeah.” She stands to her feet, ignoring the concerned look coming from her brother. “Sit down, Arthur. I’ll pour you some whiskey and get some ointment to help with the bruising.

“Y/n, I don’t- fuck.” Arthur curses when she completely ignores him and heads for the kitchen.

Only a few minutes pass until Y/n comes back. She hands the glass of whiskey to him and starts applying the ointment.

Y/n stayed with her brother until he decided to go to bed. She heads up to her room. In the morning, she’ll tell Polly. Fuck knows what Tommy will say if he hears about this. She never knows if he will help Arthur or make it worse.

In the morning. Y/n told her aunt and she should have known her aunt would tell their fearless leader. So she wasn’t surprised to see him walk in as she hands Arthur a cup of tea.

The look Tommy sends her is clear.

She smiles softly at her eldest brother. “I will be up in my room if you need me.” She tells him, her invitation not extending to the other brother.

She heads upstairs but does not go into her room. She sits on the top step, listening as Tommy belittles their brother. She rolls her eyes. She should’ve known Tommy would never express real feelings.

“Just use a fucking gun, man.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Y/n shouts as she storms down the stairs. “That’s all you have? Next time, use a gun?”

“Leave it be, Y/n.”

Y/n glares at Arthur. “No, Arthur, I can’t just leave it be.” She turns her glare back at the brother she is upset with. “I know it’s hard for you to express feelings now, but I would rather you not say anything at all than talk to our brother that way. He deserves better.”

“Y/n, that’s enough.”

“Fuck off, Thomas!” She shouts as she steps in his space. “You only care about having Arthur around so he can beat and kill people who piss you off. That’s all that matters to the all powerful Tommy Shelby.”

The slap echoes throughout the whole house, each sibling frozen in their place.

Y/n holds a hand over her now stinging cheek, staring at the man who has never raised a hand to her. Her and Tommy may not get along but she never thought he would physically harm her. Never.

She turns to Arthur, wondering how he will react. To her surprise he’s staring at her in disappointment.

“You shouldn’t have spoken to Tommy like that, Y/n. You were out of line.”

“I was out of line?” She snaps. “What am I supposed to do, Arthur, eh? Am I supposed to stand at attention and wait for the sergeant to bark orders? Huh?”

“Enough.” He doesn’t shout, but his voice still booms, causing his baby sister to flinch, preparing for another blow.

The guilt had already come, but seeing her flinch made Tommy feel sick to his stomach. “Y/n, I-” He reaches out to comfort her but stops when she steps back.

“Don’t you fucking touch me. I hate you.” She looks at Arthur. “I hate you both.”

“Let her go, Arthur.” Tommy orders when the eldest Shelby stands to follow Y/n who ran out of the house.

***

For a month, Y/n stays with John and his kids; but as much as she loves her nieces and nephews, she refuses to stay there another night.

Lizzie Stark, who’s been helping her brother with the kids, tells her to go back home, to work it out with Arthur.

“And Tommy?” The fourteen year old asks the older woman.

Lizzie smirks. “Tell him to fuck off.”

Y/n smiles at that. She hopes her brother doesn’t wait too long to give Lizzie the ring he’s been hiding.

Knowing exactly where her brother will be, Y/n heads to the Garrison. Taking a deep breath, she knocks on the locked door.

“We’re closed.” Is the muffled response from the barmaid.

“It’s Y/n Shelby.” She knows that’s all she has to say for the doors to open. Grace has been kind to her since she’s started working at the pub, and Y/n appreciates that, but she doesn’t trust the barmaid. She’s not sure why, but she has a hard time believing this Irish woman just decided to move to Birmingham without a real reason.

When the door opens, she smiles politely at Grace before squeezing past her. She heads straight to the back room, knowing her eldest brother will be attempting to balance the books.

She comes to halt mere centimeters from the entrance, her heart racing. What if he really is on Tommy’s side? What if he thinks she really did deserve to be slapped? What if she’s completely lost the only person to ever love her for her?

“Gracie, is that you? You ready to help me with these numbers yet?”

Y/n laughs quietly through the breath she was holding. Who is she kidding? Arthur is one of the kindest, loving people she knows. How could he hate her… right?

“It’s me, Arthur.” She barely gets that short sentence out above a whisper.

“Y/n?”

She steps fully into the room, her arms behind her back. “Hi.”

Arthur just stares at his baby sister, the anger, the pain of not seeing her for days, and the guilt… the guilt that has literally eaten him alive, rises to the surface. His loyalty to his brother clouded his love for his sister and he will hate himself for the rest of his life.

Being a Shelby makes it hard for them to express their emotions through words. No matter the emotion, the words usually fail to spit out, but actions, they’ve never been a problem for a Shelby.

So instead of saying the words, “I’m sorry” Arthur jumps to his feet and pulls the young girl into his arms, holding as tight as he can.

And since Y/n is not only a Shelby but also able to read her brother like a book, Y/n returns the hug and her anger disappears.

“You’re coming back home, ain’t ya?”

Y/n smiles, glad she was right. “My bag is already back in my room.”

Arthur squeezes her one more time, dropping a wet kiss on top of her head before releasing her. “Good.”

Y/n goes to ask him about how he’s been but a familiar voice stops her.

“Arthur, Tommy told me to get you. Family meeting in ten.” Finn turns to his sister, hope in his eyes. “Are you back?”

Y/n had kept in touch with Finn, having him fill her in on everything that was happening while she was gone. Finn didn’t know much, but she was able to fill in the gaps on most of what he told her.

“Yes, I’m back.”

Finn smiles. “Good. Arthur’s been too emotional and Tommy’s about to shoot him if he hears him complain one more time about you not being at the family meetings.”

Y/n laughs at Finn’s blunt statement; laughing harder when Arthur spouts profanities as he takes off after the youngest Shelby. She follows the duo, figuring it’s time for her to show her faceto the rest of the family.

Her smile stays in place as they make their way to Watery Lane, listening to her brother banter back and forth about what to tell and what to keep to yourself. So far, Finn’s winning the argument.

She can feel her smile start to get smaller the closer they get to her old home; and the smile completely disappears when Arthur opens the door for her. She comes to a halt at the threshold of the betting shop, her eyes immediately on the Peaky Blinders leader.

She’s thankful he hasn’t noticed her yet, but that little comfort quickly disappears when her aunt tells him to shut up as she makes her way to her niece.

Y/n easily accepts the hug from her aunt, the woman who practically raised her, but winces when she gets a clip to her ear.

“A month is too damn long, girl.”

“I’m sorry.” She whispers as Polly releases her; a small smile appears when her aunt gently caresses her cheek.

Knowing she needs to face the elephant in the room, or more commonly known as Thomas Shelby, Y/n peels her eyes off her aunt and stares straight into her brother’s eyes, hoping he can’t see the fear in them.

Compared to the other family members, Tommy is a mute when it comes to emotions. The only time words and emotions are mixed together is when he’s angry. He doesn’t say “I love you”, “I need you”, or anything that is remotely tied to emotions.

That said, the man is a master at showing his emotions through actions. One look can tell you so much about the gang leader. You just have to know how to read them; and Y/n is a master at this skill. She’s almost as good as their aunt.

So when she sees the barely noticeable nod of approval, and watches as Tommy pulls out a chair; she knows she has been welcomed back by their fearless leader.

And after she sits, he gently kisses her cheek, the same cheek he hurt a month ago, and she knows he’s asking for forgiveness.

She grasps his hand before he can pull away, giving it one good squeeze, so he knows he’s been forgiven.

They will never have a relationship like her and Arthur, or like him and Ada; but they can coexist together in their family; and that’s enough for them both.

Peaky Blinders: @psychkunox @theshelbyclan @lilymurphy03 @findinghisredrighthand

Forevers: @desiredposion @theseakrakence @simonsbluee