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rafeandonlyrafe · 3 months

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full inspection

words: 2.1k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, dom/sub dynamic, mentions of previous self harm! including scars, inspecting body, descriptions of body but i try to keep things vague ish when it comes to features, p in v sex, unprotected sex, anal fingering, illusions to future anal sex, rafe does inspect readers feet but not really in a foot fetishy way? it is a FULL inspection lol

“mouth first today, bunny.” rafe says, tapping your cheek.

you nod, opening up your mouth for his fingers to poke inside of.

the routine is familiar by now, every morning, you wake up to rafes inspections. his fingers glide over your cheeks, then your teeth.

“you did a good job brushing last night, bun.” rafe says, pulling his finger back to your lips, swiping over them as you open up, sticking your tongue out.

his finger glides down your tongue, pushing further and further until his fist is pressing against your teeth. you try your best to control your gag reflex, waiting for rafe to finish his inspection before coughing.

the second his finger pulls back, you take a deep breath.

“you did it, baby!” rafe praises you, tapping your nose. “you didn't gag!”

you smile up at rafe, swallowing to get the tickle out of your throat. “wanna be good for you.”

“i know, bun. since you're so good, why don't you choose what's next up for inspections?” rafe usually moves to your hands next, checking to make sure there's not any bitten nails or chipped polish.

“umm…” you glance down, small nightgown barely covering your body, nothing on underneath. “my uh…” you know what you want, just are too afraid to say it.

“out with it baby.”

“my chest.”

“aww.” rafe chuckles. “baby girl wants her titties inspected next? sounds good.”

rafe tugs your nightgown up, bunching up the silky fabric, eyes devouring your pushed together thighs, the peek of your slit between them, until your tits are revealed and his attention is pulled there instead.

“mmm, such cute little nipples.” rafe uses both his hands to inspect them, first rubbing around the outside of breasts before moving closer, fingers playing with your nipples to make sure they harden like they should.

“very good, baby.” rafe says, hands massaging your chest.

“thank you.” you look down your body, so clearly on display for rafe.

“what about this cute tummy, huh?” he pats your stomach. its not part of his usual inspections, but rafe loves to give a kiss to your tummy, warm lips making contact with your skin, almost always making you giggle.

rafe moves lower, ignoring your core to scooch down the bed to your feet, picking up one and laying it in his lap. his hands run over your sole before looking at your toes, checking that your polish hasn’t chipped, otherwise he’d be getting on the phone to make a pedicure appointment for you before he even finishes inspections.

he lifts your other foot into his lap next, rubbing his thumbs over your foot, making you let out a low moan at the massage.

“so pretty for me baby.” rafe says, allowing himself to appreciate your flawless feet.

“just for you.” you giggle, wiggling your toes.

“thats right.” rafe smiles, hands moving up your legs to your calves, quickly inspecting them before moving to your thighs. you keep your legs closed until rafe nods to give you permission to open them, not wanting to get punished for baring your cunt too early.

“such a pretty pussy.” rafe coos, a singular finger swiping through your center. “but i think we need to inspect your hands first.”

“raaafe.” you whine out, cunt clenching around nothing at his teasing as he grabs your hands. he makes sure to very thoroughly inspect them now that your cunt is spread open for him, his eyes flicking between your manicured nails and your wetness.

“don’t be bratty. you know its important for me to look over every part of you.” rafe says, flipping your hands over so he can rub his thumbs over your palms before skirting down your wrists, frowning at the few scars in lines that interrupt your skin.

“won’t happen again.” you whisper to rafe. its true, your time of self harming and using it to cope is far over now that you have rafe. not only would he easily be able to tell if you started again with his daily inspections, but you don’t feel the need anymore.

“i know, baby.” rafe hums, raising your wrists to press kisses to them.

rafe moves up your arm, hands quickly checking them before his eyes turn back to your cunt.

rafe spreads your folds open with two fingers, smirking when he sees the way your clit pulses. he begins his usual work, rubbing around where you really want him, but you know he insists on inspecting every inch of you.

rafe plunges his finger into your entrance suddenly, making you gasp out, back arching off the bed at the intrusion, but rafe just chuckles.

he begins to thrust it in and out, rubbing the pad of his finger against your walls. “still nice and tight for me.” rafe hums. “good girl.”

“haven’t been touching myself without your permission.” you shake your head. it was the number one thing that used to cause you to fail inspections, touching yourself either while rafe was at work or while he slept next to you.

“i can tell.” rafe hums, slowing his finger making your eyes flutter closed, a moan escaping from your lips. he switches back and forth between fast, hard thrusts, and slowly deep ones, never letting you know what the next movement is going to be.

“clit next.” rafe suddenly pulls his finger out, making you squeal.

“shh.” he hums, taking the same wettened finger to rub over your clit. for how seriously he takes inspections, he moves on quickly from your clit, barely swiping over it before moving on.

“rafe.” you whine, hoping your pout and fluttering eyes will entice him to continue further.

“shush. flip over.” rafe sits back while you flip onto your stomach, nightgown still bunched around your chest.

rafe smiles at the way you plump ass is presented to him. he rubs his hands quickly over your back, then skips your bum to go to your legs.

“are we doing a full inspection today?” you mutter, turning your head to look down your body at rafe. it's not every day he has the time to do his favorite part of inspections.

“oh yes.” he smirks, tapping your thigh. you know instantly what to do, raising onto your hands and knees and spreading your legs apart.

“cute little hole.” rafe smirks, your bum presented to him. he rubs his hands over your cheeks first, squeezing your skin and even shaking it a little to see the way your flesh ripples.

rafe keeps one hand holding you open while the other one comes to your second hole, circling around it. you take a deep breath and plead your body to relax as you wait for the intrusion, letting out a quiet mewl when rafe pushes his fingertip into your hole, slowly to let you adjust as he buries it. rafe hums in approval from the way you clench so tightly around his digit.

“a+, baby.” rafe pulls his finger out. you've never gotten a completely perfect inspection, always having at least one minor issue that needed correction.

“flip over.” he commands. you move quickly onto your back, keeping your knees pulled apart as you blink up at rafe. “what's next?” you question, hoping there is some sort of reward for being so good for rafe lately.

“you get your cunnie inspected again, but this time i use my cock.”

“really?” you squeal. usually rafe is strict about when he will fuck you. he doesn't like to give you anything too often, says it's to not spoil you rotten. he's lucky you don't mind just pleasuring him, whether with your hands or mouth.

“it's what good girls get.” rafe nods. he pulls his tshirt off over his head, his muscles on full display while you wait excitedly.

“gonna keep being good for you.” you promise rafe.

“yeah, you will know that you know you'll get this dick.” rafe chuckles, pushing his pants down his hips, your eyes widening when his cock springs free, already hard.

“go ahead.” rafe encourages you, moving to kneel between your legs. you can't help your grin as you sit up to wrap your hands around his cock.

“look at how tiny your hands are on my big cock.” rafe smirks as you gently stroke him. you love to feel him, love to hold him in your grip.

“can i give it a kiss?” you question, not looking up at rafe, eyes too focused between his thighs. rafe laughs, patting the back of your head, pushing you down slightly as an answer to your question.

you duck your head, kissing right at the tip of rafes cock before slowly smooching along his shaft before kissing back up the other side.

“now lay back.” rafe hums. you are sad to let go of his cock but excited for what is coming next as you lay down, but not before tugging your nightgown the rest of the way off. you toss it on the floor to be dealt with later.

rafes hands press at your inner thighs, making them stretch even further as he lines his cock up, glad that your wetness has grown and he can push inside, not too easily with how tight you are around him, but enough for rafe to enter you in one steady stroke.

a moan works its way through your body, your thighs shaking under his hands, but he doesn’t let up as rafes hips begin to swing back and forth, feeling every inch of your walls with his cock.

“thats it, baby.” rafe moans when you clench around him. “so tight for me.” your hands fist in the bedsheets, wishing rafe was draped over you so you could kiss him and hold onto his shoulders, but you know rafe likes kneeling between your spread legs so he can look down on you. it also allows him to thrust faster as he slowly builds up speed.

“love your cock so much.” you whine out, back arching, nipples pebbling in the cool morning air.

“aww, you’re so sweet.” rafe smirks, letting out a chuckle when you pout, his voice condescending, mocking you for how much you’re enjoying it, despite rafes movements speeding up to pound into you.

“oh! oh f-fffffff.” you cut yourself off, remembering that rafe doesn’t like you swearing.

“touch yourself.” rafe grunts out. he’s not sure how much longer he can last, not when he was already turned on from inspecting you and having you kiss and worship his cock.

“thank you!” you manage to squeal out before your hand reaches between your thighs, using your fingertips to rub over your clit, hoping rafe is ready soon because you’re not sure how much longer you can hold back.

“you know what the final part of a full inspection is?” rafe questions. you try to think of what it could be, but your mind doesn’t work anymore, so filled with pleasure and thoughts of rafe that nothing else can get through.

“its seeing how good you take my cum.” rafe moans, moving quicker when you feel his cock swell inside of you, signaling how close he is. you rub faster at your clit as he delivers a few final punishing strokes before cumming with a groan, your own fingers rubbing you to orgasm seconds later as you whine out a series of rafes name over and over, your cunt pulsing around his cock, milking him.

“oh, thats a good girl.” rafe pats your lower stomach. “tummy all swelled up with my cum.”

you look down your body, and rafe is right, theres the slightest bulge from rafes cock being lodged deep inside of you and then stuffing you with cum.

“keep my cum inside of you for a minute and you’ll get an extra special reward.” rafe says as he pulls out, knowing you’re going to have to clench your hole for the entire minute with how much he flooded inside of you.

“okay.” you mumble, eyes closing as you concentrate as his cock pulls away, glad you practice kegels as you try to keep all his cum in. you know rafe is staring at your hole, waiting to see if anything leaks from your cunt. time passes quickly, thankfully, and rafe is tapping your thigh before you know it. “you did it, baby girl. that was an entire minute.”

“really?” you smile, proud of yourself as you relax, knowing his cum is going to leak on the bedsheets. “whats the special prize?”

“well, i inspected your pussy with my cock, and now its time for you ass.” rafe grins while your eyes widen.

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comfortless · 1 month

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syl im begging on my hands and knees pls pls pls expand on that idea of könig being a warrior rumored to eat womens hearts its like giving scheherazade and i NEED IT

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. vague time period/setting. fem(afab) reader. light descriptions of violence and gore, talk of cannibalism, non-con groping & cuddling, forced marriage.

There are endless tasks to be done and everything beneath a vast blue sky to explore, forgoing those things, the men about your village often prefer to gather for a duel. There are no rules for their game, only that you bring a weapon and thrust it toward the opponent in such a way that it brings you glory, pride, some scabbing mend to a crooked scar.

Except not you, never you. They wouldn’t so much as allow for the women to watch unless sparring for the hand of a weeping bride happened to be the gleaming prize waiting at the end of the night.

Your eyes had witnessed such before, a girl with hair the color of autumn straw that rolled down to the end of her back, whisked away by some man from the sea after he dug his blade into an old farmer’s belly. Her father. A sad thing, but you imagined her life must be much better now. Instead of tending to a mule or pricking her fingers on needles for sewing, she’s off collecting sea shells and has the ocean’s breeze eternally perfumed in her hair. Maybe she cradles a baby on her hip now, plump and cooing happily whilst they watch the waves roll and glitter beneath the sun.

A better life for only the cost of a swift death. It was something that you had always envisioned wanting for yourself, away from this village that reeks of blood, the very place where your options were limited to shoveling after the horses or to die a lonely hag.

That was until the behemoth began to show his face. Not quite his face at all, actually. It changed things for you. Instead of a longing for one of these strong men to carry you off into the night, there sat a creeping terror each and every time he crossed the threshold into the village.

He was rumored to be many things: an executioner from a foreign land, either a lost and wicked saint or a demon made flesh, and worst of them all… a cannibal from out in the untamed downs that crest the mountainside.

The women of the village were frightened by him, by the bulk and height that suggested he was not a man at all, but something far more terrifying beneath that black veil. They hid away when he first arrived, claiming he carried an organ in his hands, chewing away at a still-beating heart with blood running down his fingers. The men remained rigid, but their hands shook when they took up their weapons against him.

And there was no way of knowing then that this man was to be yours.

Time and time again, the giant would win, request a warm meal and a bed for the evening, and would be gone away come morning. He wouldn’t return for months, and the gossip would continue to fester until his return. Then, only then, would lips be pursed in silence and another fool would rush to death in an attempt to win some measure of pride. His opponent would be buried in the very field they would fight in, his bones serving for another layer upon the earthen stage once the worms and rats had picked him clean, and the giant would be back. He was always back.

The town is hushed to silence when his horse is led through the well-worn street. There are lingering observers: the broad stable hand that would not even dare to raise a whip or a dagger to this behemoth, the women of the brothel even shy away from him, and the children who whisper their rumors behind open palms.

He does not stop for any of them, only carries forward with that dark cloth concealing his head.

You peek out from your window, nursing tea with honey to calm the chill drifting through the air, feathering over your skin. It’s bitter on your tongue, even with the sweet coursing through it. Bitter, when his blue eyes flick in your direction and you feel every inch of your skin begin to prickle and tense.

He’s worse up close like this. The man doesn’t conceal his torso, never seemed to find a need to— no one ever gets close enough to wound him. Not any more, at least, judging by the pasty scars that mar his chest with the biggest being a healed, pinkish blemish that stretches from below his ribs down to a narrow hip. You find the most unsettling part about him is not those marks of violence, but the fact that you can not read his face.

Time slows to a halt as he just stares, takes you in with your cup of tea and the old dress stolen away from your mother’s own wardrobe. And you return it, warily looking him over from his veiled head down to the toes of his boots. After regarding you in the very same way a bored cat would observe an unaware, little bird, he moves along his path with a quiet huff of breath as his face is turned away from you.

There’s a heavy axe strapped to his back that you only notice then. Something new and shiny, glistening in the rays of golden sunlight above. Sharp and wicked, too cruel a weapon to be used in a bout for dinner and a lumpy mattress stuffed with decaying straw.

You could only hope he brought a cloth to clean it once this ordeal was over. Perhaps he truly does use his veil to do so, gets drunk on the scent of blood and gore clinging to it and pleasures himself to the violence as they claim. The macabre tales of this giant only go darker than that. But the tales he lives up to most of all are the ones about his skill in killing.

When night begins to scrape across the sky in dark, drab purple, fate comes crawling throughout the town as though it is nothing more than a famished ghoul.

Your mother storms toward you where you’re sat, preparing for bed. Her face is a mask of pure anguish when she pulls you into a tight embrace. She bawls into your hair, digs her nails into your back as though she would sooner die than let you go.

The men of the town follow behind her, wrenching her arms away from you and pulling you up by the front of your gown. The thin linen tears with the force of rough hands, rips a thick line down your chest that almost leaves you bared to them. Though the hands are eager, the eyes of these men do not shine with hunger, only with fear.

The shouts and cries from your lips are lost to them, to even your mother who wails in defeat someplace behind you.

“You’re plenty old enough to be a bride,” says one of the men, voice like a coiled snake spitting venom. It doesn’t take one of the well-educated people of the capital here to explain just what is to happen to you now.

The giant, the cannibal, saw something that he liked, and decided that you would be his prize. When you’re led to the field, kicking and flailing against the strong arms that hold you tightly in their grip, the sight is enough to tell you just how much that he enjoyed your silent, curious staring only hours before.

He stands upright, silent and daunting above a body that’s been split by the axe still held in one strong hand. The color of crimson cakes his knuckles, crests over his arm and the expanse of his chest, all from the headless corpse lying disposed at his feet.

The scene is what you expected, you’ve heard the words of your people about this beast of a man’s propensity for violence, but no amount of mental preparation could have truly readied you for seeing so much blood. The blood of a man you knew to be good and true, a hard-working blacksmith from the foothills. What a tragic way to go out: fighting for a pouch of coin when this horrible giant must have clearly lost his mind to rut and rage.

No hand comes to cover your mouth when you shriek, and the tight grips guiding you forward only loosen when your man or murderer stalks forward to take his prize. Through your tears, you still manage to make out the lines beneath his eyes, how they fold upward, and there’s no doubt that he’s smiling beneath that mask. A big, ugly grin at the thought of prying open your ribs and helping himself to a maiden’s heart.

He lifts it over his head in a swift motion, and drops it over your own instead, opposite to the hastily cut eye holes to block out all of the hazy, pale light of the moon and flickering yellow-red torches surrounding. Amidst the panic threatening to send your heart fleeing from your chest, the cold trickle of dread that finds itself curling in your belly, you feel two arms hoist you up and settle you over the back of his wretched steed.

“Gehen wir.”

Then, the darkness turns abyssal.

You only pray your body has truly died of fright when you first wake. There’s no darkness, no scent of blood when your eyelids pry apart to flutter. Water laps over your bare thighs, cold enough to force a shiver up from your feet to the blades of your shoulders. But behind you sits fire, a warmth so comforting you would think you’re rested against a stone bathed in summer sun, if not for the softness.

You take a moment to gather your thoughts, rationalize just what’s happening, until a hand clutching a scrap of cloth maneuvers up from your thigh to your tummy, lathers you in a soap that smells only of pine. It halts, cinches around your waist when you begin to tense, when he knows you’re truly awake. A pond to your front and a man of horror at your back.

There’s sunlight streaming down from above, painting the clouds in gold. There are birds happily singing from the surrounding trees, and other, unseen animals scurrying through fallen leaves. Serene, pretty, and almost comforting when the wind turns course and brings with it the scent of late-ripening fruit. If the reality of your situation were not so dire, perhaps you would have enjoyed it, being here with a man who killed instead of presented your family with a dowry or offered you some pleasant wedding to dine and drink your fill of berry wine at.

“Let me go.” Your voice is a feigned warning, the mocking growl of a mere pup. You imagine he must keep his weapons close, only offering himself the courtesy of cleaning you so your meat doesn’t taste of dirt or lavender oil when he sinks his teeth into it.

“Süss frau,” he mumbles behind you, presses his head into your hair and inhales deeply as your body only grows further rigid. There’s a pause, before he corrects himself. “Meine süss frau.”

It would help if you knew what he was saying, calm your nerves some, maybe, but each word spoken only sounds guttural and instills further fear. You twist in his grip, hissing small curses that would have left your mother in a rage, but he only laughs at your squirming. Then, he tightens his grip as the cloth is dropped into the pond’s glassy water.

“Take me back home,” you continue to urge, placing a trembling hand over the limb pressing your body further back against him. “Please.”

Your small attempt at pleading is met only with his head dropping to the nape of your neck, a kiss pressed against the flesh there. It warms for him, sends a heat spiking up to your cheeks in spite of the way you still suspect he wishes only to rip your throat open with teeth more akin to a devil’s fangs.

You turn your head, intent on spitting right in this monster’s face, but find only a man looking back at you.

There’s a shimmer in his eyes that almost seems playful, a grin so prevalent there it must cause the corners of his mouth to ache. No blood in his teeth, and though the silvery-blue of his eyes seems distant, they are not cold. The goliath who stole you away stinking of blood and innards isn’t present now, and that seems even less of a comfort. He’s even handsome in the strangest way, certainly not the look of nobility, but none of his features are cruel. There’s a boyish charm to him, perhaps he would have the look of a charismatic farmhand or an apprentice of sorts if not for the scarring.

“Won’t hurt you… too pretty,” he assures, burying his face against the side of your neck. But the bastard does, digs his teeth right in and suckles at your skin when you claw at his arm in surprise. It’s not enough to draw drops of blood, but it accentuates the point that he seems to see you as something of his, a possession of sorts.

There’s a messy patch of drool over bruising skin when he pulls away to laugh at the wounded expression upon your face. He apologizes in a huff of breath as he guides you up to stand at his side. His hands linger too long for comfort when they rest along your waist. Your sullen glare only seems to further endear him. Too much, judging by the way the pillar between his legs bounces thick and hard and proud, throbs when you tilt your chin up to meet his gaze and angrily hiss to him about how a man should treat his wife. Cannibal or not, the beast needed to learn some manners.

Fear still edges its way up your spine, but it diminishes more and more as the seconds pass.

He’s no gentleman when he splashes away the remnants of soap from your body, hands grazing over every inch of your bare skin he sees available to touch. Your breast first, weighed up in his palm with the nipple pinched between his index and middle. Emboldened by your hushed protests, he dares to slip his other between your legs, and only then do you force his hands away.

He certainly bears no resemblance to a proper husband when he hoists you over one shoulder to carry you further into the woods and into his shack, either.

It’s barren and ugly, an unsightly wooden structure decorated only with a thin mattress, a table too small, and blades of many forms. The axe sits proudly below the window, astonishingly cleaned of the gore from the night prior. The veil rests above it on the sill, damp from a cleaning that never should have been. You stare at his belongings for a time when you’re placed on your feet, silently judging the array in search of anything to justify the gossip, only to come up short of anything.

He doesn’t even touch you past the bathing in the pond. You’re dressed in a tunic that fits like a dress upon your form: far too big, long and dull to be anything you would normally be seen in. But there are no tailors this far out in the wilderness, though there’s an apologetic promise whispered to you once he sees you in his clothes. He’ll buy you a new dress upon your first visit to town as his wife, several if it pleases you.

The man leaves for a spell, brings you rabbit to clean and prepare, then busies himself stoking up a fire for cooking. His speech is a little broken when he tells you of how long he’s waited to have someone like you here with him, how he never suspected a woman so pretty would be his wife. And you don’t eat when the meat is fully cooked and placed in front of you both. You insist that you only wish to return back home, to hug your mother and tell her that you’re still alive.

That, he takes insult to.

His brow is pinched when he forces you to sit in his lap. He brings the meat to your lips and presses into your cheeks with his free hand to force your mouth open. There’s nothing romantic or cute about it, about him, but you do glumly settle in his hold when the realization does dawn on you that, though his strength is extraordinary, he is only a man and the only harm coming to you would be between your legs.

You’re drug over to the mattress after dinner by a tight hold over your wrist. The fight hasn’t left you, not by a smidge, even when the loose tunic is lifted over your head with shouts of your displeasure and you’re pressed onto your back with the giant watching you curiously from above.

He pins you there, but doesn’t force his hands down to your sex again. He only sighs when he rests his weight next to you and curls in to lie his head over your breasts.

You’re body remains stiff and rigid as a bowstring. His nearness only sends that same swell of heat back from the pond, brings with it the scent of fire smoke and sweat emanating from him. His hair is long and soft, soft as the kisses he places on the plushness of your tit, long as the drag of a callused palm from your hip up to cup the other.

He offers you no warning when his teeth circle over your nipple, holds fast to you when your back arches and your fingers weave into his hair to jerk him away. The worst part about him seemed to be having a penchant for leaving a mark, and the smug grin that crosses his face when he meets the fury in your eyes with the lust-drunk look in his own.

“Was? You don’t like?,” he grumbles, tracing over the marks of his teeth with his thumb, pressing against and smearing his saliva until you feel your back begin to arch and your breathing grow heavy.

“It hurts.”

He stares at you in amazement for a moment, whether surprised you haven’t made an attempt to flee or startled by the lack of a strike to his jaw after such a thing, it mattered not. Your terrible, ignorant “husband” only seems satisfied with your response. He draws back to sit on his knees before you, sliding his hands along each curve and dip of your body until they rest at your ankles.

“Ja… hurts. I will make it better, meine süße.”

He’s no less brazen when he makes a dive toward your womanhood, lips parted in preparation to breathe you in. Or… taste you in full, whichever option was suited for men who were more beasts than men at all. Maybe that was his only feat of cannibalism: licking at women until they were wet and pliant for him to take entirely. You pry him away with a gasp and a quick shift onto your side, demanding that he not touch you any further.

Again, he laughs, curls behind you and shifts his hips to slot the girth of his cock between your thighs, buries his face into your neck once again. You can feel the grin that stretches over his lips against your skin. When the dark envelopes you both, the quiet crackle of the fire in its pit still showing signs of life, he seems content to just cuddle you close.

Exhaustion creeps its way through your limbs, steals the fight from your voice and leaves your eyelids heavy. You consider waiting it out, listening to his breathing deepen and slow to creep away, but his grip is firm around your middle, so strangely comforting that you do allow yourself to relax. Running could wait until the morning sun rose.

#könig x reader #konig x reader #this has been in my inbox for months i am SO sorry

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owliellder · 9 months

Text

My Superstar

post RE4! Leon Kennedy x afab Musician! Reader

MDNI 18+

Description: Leon was a fan of you. It was a well kept secret, how much he enjoyed your music and watching you perform. A little bit of lying can get a man a long way.

Warnings: Not proofread, Porn w/ lots of plot, Unprotected p in v (stay safe), some minimal stalkerish behavior, vague mention of a PTSD-induced panic (it's very short), awkwardness

Tags: Strangers to lovers, post RE4! Leon, Dom! Leon, Sub! Reader, this can be considered slow burn (?), multiple instances of masturbation cause Leon is touch starved, praise kink, handjob, oral (m! and f! receiving), fingering, nipple play, inappropriate use of mama, grinding, cowgirl position, Leon manhandling the reader a bit, this man cannot keep his hands off of you!!

Word Count: 11k

Cross posted onto Ao3

Note: Spent days working on this. DAYS!! It's crazy that I can sit here at work all night, multiple nights in a row, and write smut.

Anyways, thank you for reading

ψ(｀∇´)ψ!

Leon Kennedy was one of the government's best agents; fighting horrors beyond the general public's comprehension like it was nothing at this point. He was only 28, yet he was rugged, stoic, and damn near emotionless. Every agent he's ever interacted with knew next to nothing about him. Outside of work, this man was an absolute enigma.

He stayed in a comfortable one bedroom, one bathroom apartment that was provided by the government. It was practically barren due to his line of work. What was the point of having anything if you're never there to enjoy it?

On the rare occasion Leon had more than a few weeks of quiet, he strictly kept to himself; declining invitations to go out and drink with his fellow agents, ordering in whenever he decided he was hungry, and even flat out ignoring anyone who approached him when he was performing his more domestic duties, like grocery shopping.

The blond had manners, sure, but he didn't want to entertain anyone's idea of him, especially the women. He was approached in that way often due to his muscular appearance and mysterious atmosphere. It was a bit of a pain for him to deal with. He just wanted to be left alone during his highly valued time away from agent work.

Leon looks and acts like the type of guy to just be a stick in the mud. He rarely ever indulged the other agents in his personal affects.

One evening while stuck doing paperwork from his last mission, the blond was dragged into a nearby conversation when one of the agents asked about his music taste. More specifically, if he preferred one music artist over another. All he did was shrug and said he didn't know the names, which stunned everyone involved in the conversation. When asked about not knowing two very popular artists, he even went so far as to say: "I don't listen to music."

Little did everyone know that Leon Kennedy was a filthy, dirty liar.

He listened to music, oh he did. This seasoned agent, who fought actual hellspawn, was a fan of you.

Actually, fan would be an understatement. He was a super fan.

Leon discovered your music a year ago while in a drunken stupor after he'd come back from Spain. He was in an incredibly tough spot mentally, physically too, and he just needed something to help with the constant feeling of dread clouding his thoughts. Amidst his drinking spree, he caught a glimpse of you when scrolling through TV channels.

The agent paused for a long moment before switching the channel back, his body lagging behind his brain. He was very wary at first, seeing as he really wasn't a music guy, but something about your voice drew him in further. Of course Leon blamed it on the massive amount of alcohol he'd drank, dismissing the tickling in his stomach with a shake of his head as he switched to a different channel.

From there, it spiraled.

Everywhere he went, he heard bits and pieces of you; the grocery store, in a car passing by that had its windows rolled down, even from the other agents occasionally when he got stuck doing paperwork late into the night. You were slowly taking over his thoughts, and though he seemed calm and collected on the outside, it was driving him insane.

Leon didn't understand why you were able to mess with him like this. It was so unfair. He'd managed to keep his personal life the way he wanted it, the one thing he had control over, and now he owned all of your CD's and even a t-shirt for god's sake...

He indulged himself in everything that was you; the way you smiled in the few music videos you had, the nervous habits you had when he was able to watch your interviews, old and new, and even the way you dressed. It had him almost browsing similar clothes at the store, his gaze lingering for just a moment too long as he wondered if you'd like something like that.

The whole thing made Leon feel gross, perverted even, especially when you crept into his thoughts late at night. Turning down other women's advances meant he never really got any action, never really feeling the need to touch himself either, so he found himself a little more pent up than he originally thought he'd be. The smallest of thoughts about you had him straining against his pants at work.

Yes, embarrassingly, he'd masturbated to the thought of you. Multiple times at this point. He felt terrible, but what you didn't know couldn't hurt you, right? He could live with the shame.

The agent made sure not a soul knew about his growing obsession for you and your sound, that much he could control.

Despite feeling incredibly emasculated, you did well by him. He didn't drink as much as he used to and he spent just a little more time each day off making his apartment cozier, though that's not the craziest part. That title belongs to the fact that whenever you were brought up at work, he rather subtly joined in on conversations willingly. He acted uninterested, didn't even add to the conversation really, but it was an opportunity for him to learn about you that he wasn't going to pass up.

From that, Leon learned that you were doing a concert in this city next month! That seemingly insignificant bit of information that was casually mentioned by one of the other agents nearly knocked the fucking wind out of him.

"Yeah, they're going to be in town for a week or something." One agent spoke up, shrugging before he tilted his disposable coffee cup towards their slips to take a small sip. Leon managed to collect himself internally to reply, clearing his throat quietly beforehand. "This isn't a big city. What're they doing here?"

In an attempt to seem casual, he rested his left arm rested on the back of a chair as he held his own cup of coffee in his right hand, taking a sip from it.

"Dunno." The agent responded simply, shrugging a bit. The topic quickly shifted after that, leaving Leon to mull over the simple tidbit he'd learned.

The next few weeks were grueling for the blond, feeling as if time was purposefully slowing down on him. His anticipation was growing by the minute.

He had managed to finagle himself a backstage pass along with a VIP ticket the second he made it home to his personal computer after that conversation with his coworkers, thank you special government access. The printed ticket and pass taunted him from where it sat propped up against the bottom of the computer monitor.

Leon kept the ticket and pass somewhere he would remember them, somewhere they couldn't get lost when he had to rush to work in a haste, which was a common occurrence for the agent.

The last week of the month was when you were going to be in town for your concert. Thursday, to be specific. It was relatively easy for Leon to play off his absence at work, having called out sick for the entire week so no one would suspect anything. Honestly, everyone was more concerned since he never got sick and even on the rare occasion he was, he never called out.

It made Leon feel just slightly guilty when a few of his fellow agents decided to send him get well cards... he'll worry about that later.

Every day until Thursday decided to roll around, Leon was practically vibrating in his apartment. He was so worried he would somehow miss the concert, so he decided to occupy himself by scrubbing the damn place top-to-bottom. It helped him release that ever-building tension he was accruing as he oh so patiently waited.

Wednesday night, he couldn't sleep, the anticipation of this one single event made it hard for him to sleep ever since he learned about it. But with the promise of seeing you tomorrow, he was actually trembling in his bed.

The man had tried his best to control his urges regarding you, but tonight was really getting to him. Just to relax, he thought, it can't hurt. A common thought in his mind.

Leon lost track of time and spent over 2 hours edging himself, the adrenaline from knowing he'd get to see you in person, be in the same building as you, had him biting down on his knuckles as he roughly fisted his cock. He at least still had the dignity to keep himself quiet, mostly not wanting his neighbors to hear how needy he was. He also didn't want your name to accidentally slip out of his mouth.

God, the things you did to him. All he had to do was simply imagine you were the one stroking his cock and he was gone, pathetically whimpering into his hand. You didn't even know he existed, but hopefully you would after that concert. He wished he could show you how much he appreciated you one day soon.

After the agent came with your name on the tip of his tongue, he decided to give up on sleep. He was wide awake, now needing a shower after making a sizable mess all on his hand, exposed abs, and the blankets that had bunched up near his groin.

Only 10 minutes later, he came again, this time in the shower.

Leon checked himself over numerous times during the hours leading up to your concert; dressing in a shirt a size too small to show off his muscles, spritzing himself with just the right amount of a cologne that he totally didn't buy because you said you liked those certain perfume and cologne notes once before, even going so far as to make sure not a single strand of hair on his head was out of place.

The anxiety got to him and, of course, he left almost 5 hours early to stand in line at the stadium you'd be performing at. He found himself felt awkward standing by himself in line, almost second guessing his decision to even be here. Almost.

Once the employees at the stadium started checking tickets and leading people inside, the blond began to tremble with anticipation. This once stoic, cold man was now reduced to nothing more than a nervous fangirl, his lips pulled tight as his ticket and pass were checked and he was lead through a set of double doors. Despite all his years living and working in this area, Leon had never been inside this place. Hell, he didn't even know there was a stadium here.

The VIP ticket granted him one of the best spots in his opinion. He wasn't right up against the stage, but he was close enough to where he'd be in the crowd that got to interact with you personally.

Once again, Leon was feeling awkward as he sat stiffly next to people he didn't know. Hopefully he can grow a pair quick so he doesn't make an absolute fool of himself in front of you.

The crowd waited for a good 30 minutes or so, probably to give everyone enough time to settle, before the lights dimmed, causing everyone to cheer loudly. The man tapped his fingers against his muscular thigh anxiously, attempting to get his breathing under control.

He did not like being crowded like this, but he had to put up with it for just a couple hours in order to see your entire concert. He could handle that...

No he couldn't.

Only a few minutes after you entered the stage, everything got to him fast. The screaming, the lack of any form of personal space, and his climbing body temperature caused him to flee as casually as physically possible. Leon never considered that he wouldn't be able to handle such a loud and crowded environment.

He pushed his way forward, flashing his backstage pass to one of the security guards standing in front of the temporary fencing put up. They moved the fence slightly to let him through, to which he speed-walked his way towards the bathrooms, following the signs that led the way.

Thankfully the bathroom was empty since the concert had just started. The man chose to go into the family bathroom since it the door had a lock and he didn't want anyone walking in on him while he calmed himself.

For fucks sake, he can do this! He knows he can, he has to. He bought the damn ticket and pass, he needed to see you.

After giving himself awhile to calm down, Leon eventually walked out of the bathroom, ready to go back in and claim his seat once more. The sound of music echoed through the large hallway that surrounded the area you were performing, causing his nerves to spike again for just a brief moment.

He took a deep breath and walked over to another security guard that stood by the set of doors he walked out of previously, using his pass once more to get back in since it led through the fenced off area.

The second the blond walked through, he froze, his eyes landing on you up on the stage. Your voice was so clear now, the way you moved and sang with a smile causing the corners of his lips to peak up slightly.

He just couldn't keep his eyes off of you, making his walk back to his seat incredibly drawn out. Seeing you at every angle possible at the moment was making his heart flutter, and shamefully, his dick twitch. He was grateful anything below his torso was obstructed by everyone jumping and dancing around him.

The lyrics to your songs resonated with Leon like nothing before, your proximity making it feel like you were singing directly to him. For him.

The concert lasted a little longer than either you or Leon had anticipated due to a random technical issue with the mic you were wearing.

It was funny to you, the slight and very short lasting hiccup caused you to joke with one of your bandmates, your hushed voice and laugh being picked up by their mic. God, Leon could listen to your laugh for hours.

Regardless of any mistake, your concert was nothing less than perfect to the man. To him, you could do no wrong, that much was clear by the way he zeroed in on you and you alone for the entire duration of the performance.

After thanking the audience with a grin and a wave, you exited the stage with your bandmates and retreated backstage to shed that post-concert adrenaline. All those eyes watching you? Yeah, that'll always be nerve-wracking, no matter how many times you do it.

You settled next to your drummer on a particularly uncomfortable couch, your guitar sitting propped up on a stand not too far away. The downtime after a concert was always very appreciated, considering you lacked any sort of energy after the adrenaline finally wore off. Your voice had grown hoarse, throat now sore, and ears ringing from the volume of the music earlier.

You wanted to have a chance to collect yourself properly before you met up with anyone that had a backstage pass, which was normally reserved for people actually working the event. You liked to keep it easy for you and everyone involved, which meant you only ever green-lit a very small number of them to be sold to the general public.

As much as you loved your fans, you wanted to keep your after-concert relaxing at a maximum. This kind of life was stressful, as fun as it was. You didn't want to come at your fans' throats because you were too exhausted to answer questions. The last thing you wanted was to get mad at people who were just excited to meet you.

Luckily for you, it doesn't seem very many people were able to acquire a backstage pass. Most were left to event workers, it seemed. A few stragglers had made it backstage with the help of security to get a picture and have you and your bandmates sign a poster or a shirt.

One final man wandered backstage an hour after the concert had ended, one you didn't notice as your exhaustion was really presenting at this point. Your bassist was the first to notice Leon, righting themselves from their spot leaning against the wall to greet him with a handshake.

The drummer and keyboardist followed suit, slowly leading the agent over to where you now sat on the floor, back against the couch since it had grown too uncomfortable for you.

You were nudged by your bassist, causing you to grumble and open your eyes to look up at whoever decided to rouse you. Catching sight of Leon prompted you to quickly stumble upwards onto your feet.

Smiling awkwardly, you reached your hand out to shake his hand, which he gladly accepted with a tender smile of his own.

"Leon." he stated simply, his eyes lidded as he looked into yours. "Very happy to finally meet you and your band."

This man was fucking gorgeous and he had the voice of a pornstar. Maybe he was a pornstar? Who knows, you weren't one to judge, especially not someone who's looking at you like that.

You introduced yourself, rather breathlessly as you'd stood yourself up too fast. "I'm sorry, we're all a little gross from the show.." you laughed out nervously, pulling your hand back from him to wipe against your shirt after realizing how sticky from sweat you were.

Leon laughed a low laugh with you, his eyes quickly raking over your figure before making their way back up to yours. "It's no problem, I'd be a little confused if you weren't gross after that performance. It was amazing, by the way."

He followed you and your bandmates over to a circular table sitting near the corner of the room, accepting a seat after everyone sat down and gestured for him to do the same. The blond really wanted to talk to you alone, but getting to talk to you at all was a feat in his books right now, and getting to sit across from you was more than enough.

"Thank you, Leon. We're very happy you enjoyed the show." Your drummer spoke, giving Leon a quick smile. Everyone else agreed, including you with a quiet, tired chuckle.

Leon was surprisingly good at hiding his hard on, but your hoarse voice and tired, disheveled look had his thoughts leading a less than innocent path. It was hard for him to focus on anyone else.

The agent asked general, boring questions that the band was asked almost every time they encountered a fan, though he was a lot more casual about it.

He kept giving you these looks that you couldn't quite describe. It almost seemed like he was eyeballing you for a reason. You were used to getting a bit more attention since you were the main face of the band, but wow he was really giving you some questionable looks. Not that you minded, of course. Hell, you started giving him your own coy glances here and there.

After about 10 minutes of general chatter, Leon began to single you out in questions; asking about your guitar, how you come up with your lyrics, and how you learned to sing, all the while staring at you with those half-lidded eyes of his.

You answered as best as you could, taking note of a smirk tugging at his lips. He'd noticed you blushing, his low tone and staring effecting you in your tired state.

You couldn't quite place it, and as cliche as it was, he seemed different to you. Leon wasn't like most of the other fans you'd met over the years, he seemed so nonchalant about everything.

This type of behavior was obvious when it came from younger fans. You and your band mates have dealt with a fair share of teenage crushes, but having a grown man display the same kind of mannerisms was strange. Not in a bad way, though.

In your defense, it was a bit refreshing to know you were desirable in that sense. You'd grown so busy with music that you just haven't worked to put yourself out there. Plus, there's always that inkling that anyone who would try their hand at you was just out for the money and fame, not to mention that handling a relationship with the spotlight always watching is really difficult. It can wear on it.

As everyone stood up from the table, your bandmates shook Leon's hand and said their thank you's again before beginning to make their way to a door where a couple security guards stood ready to lead them out to the tour bus. You waved them on before walking over to grab your guitar from the stand it was on.

"You're not gonna go with them?" Leon asked quietly, watching you from where he stood next to the table. He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb as your bandmates walked out, his eyebrows furrowed slightly with confusion.

"Oh, I just have to put this away before I follow them out..." You yawned, grabbing the guitar case that wasn't too far away from you before sitting yourself on the floor, opening the case up. You began to examine the guitar for any damage that went unnoticed during the concert.

Leon nodded and moseyed over to you, standing a couple feet away before leaning over just a bit to watch you as you looked over your guitar, giving a small smile once more.

"You know," he started, voice almost a rumble as he spoke. His eyebrows raised as he turned his focus down a little further to look at you. "...you really were the star of the show."

You placed the guitar in it's case before looking up at him, having tilting your head upwards since he was currently towering over you. You smiled, huffing out a laugh through your nose. "Please, I wouldn't sound very good if it wasn't for my band.."

Leon clicked his tongue, bending over a little more to get closer to you. He was looking at you with those same half-lidded eyes from before, his voice lowering to a hushed tone. "I'm being serious. All I could focus on was you. And that voice of yours? Wow.."

He was now giving you a bit more of a serious look, though he still had the faintest smile. Your face relaxed with his words, smile widening ever so slightly. He spent the time to gauge your reaction before continuing to speak, moving next to you before crouching down.

"I know I'm just a fan, but I'd really like to see you again sometime." Leon turned his head away from you to look down at the floor, fiddling with his fingers nervously after resting his arms on his knees.

Now it was his turn to blush, his sudden proximity to you bringing out a more bashful side to him. He hadn't felt this way in years, so he wasn't quite sure how to act.

You followed him with your head as he crouched next to you, never moving your gaze away from him. Normally you'd never let a fan get this close to you for so long, but Leon didn't give off any sort of threatening energy. If anything, he just seemed like a nervous kid asking his crush to hold his hand during school. It was endearing having such a well-built, handsome man acting this way for you.

You averted your gaze for just a moment to zip up the guitar case before quickly looking back at the blond sitting next to you. "Do you have a pen?"

His eyes shot up from his lap to meet yours, his eyebrows raised up again. "What?" he asked, his voice a little too loud before he caught himself with a wipe of his palm across his lips. "Sorry- what did you say?" He must've been zoned out after admitting to wanting to see you again.

"Do you have a pen? Or a sharpie?" You repeated yourself with a gentle tone, eyes crinkling with your smile as he looked over at you. "Oh! Oh, yeah.. yeah yeah, I do.." He muttered, quickly standing up so he could dig through his pockets with both his hands. After a few seconds he pulled out a pen, clicking it a couple times before holding out the pen to you.

You nodded with a giggle, gently taking the pen from him. You grabbed his hand and flipped it so his palm was facing up, drawing a couple quick circles on your own arm to make sure the pen worked before carefully scribbling your number out onto his open palm.

Leon focused all his brain power on keeping his hand as still as possible for you, watching you intently as you wrote on his hand. He never thought it would've been this easy, imagining he'd have to follow you to at least a few other cities before even getting a chance at this.

Once you finished writing, you placed the pen back into the same hand. You held his hand with both of yours, closing his fingers for him before patting them. Every single nerve ending in his hand was tingling with your touch, his eyes wide as he turned his gaze from his hand and back up to your face where his eyes met yours.

"I have to go, but don't be afraid to call, okay?" You slowly slid your hands off of his and stood up, grabbing the handle on the guitar case. "I'm easily reachable."

Leon pulled his hand close to his chest, opening his fingers to sneak a glance at your number. He balled his hand right back up before shoving it into his pocket, like he'd somehow lose it if he didn't keep a tight hold on it. He started to speak, voice cracking a bit which caused him to clear his throat before attempting to speak again. "Yeah, okay.. yeah.."

The agent was reduced to nothing more than his nerves, taking a shaky breath as he gave you a crooked smile. You nodded in acknowledgement, blush dusting your cheeks again as you stood awkwardly next to him.

You pointed towards the door before starting to shuffle away from him, muttering out a quiet "It was nice to meet you, Leon.."

You take quiet note on how nice his cologne smelled as you walked in front of him to the door.

"It was nice to meet you too, sweetheart." Leon responded, his shyness immediately falling away as he watched you leave, allowing a security guard to lead him to the main arena so he could walk out to the main parking lot where his car was.

He slid into his car and sat for a moment before leaning his head against the steering wheel, arms above his head as he laughed. It almost felt fake, but when he angled his head to look at the number written on his hand again, he knew it wasn't.

The man almost crashed 3 times on the short drive home, getting honked at numerous times as he sat unfocused at traffic lights when they turned green. He even sat at a stop sign waiting for it to turn green for a whole minute until he realized that it was not going to be turning green.

At least he made it back to his apartment building alive, that's all that mattered to him right now. He wanted to enjoy this moment of euphoria before his own exhaustion caught up to him, calmly walking into his apartment in case any of his neighbors saw him. Once his front door was closed and locked, he scrambled into his office to write down your number onto a piece of paper. He wanted to make sure the numbers were at least legible, seeing as his hands were trembling.

Afterwards, he moved to his bedroom to sit on the edge of his bed, having taken off his jacket and shirt, leaving them both abandoned on the floor somewhere in his room. The entire night was finally setting in for him, his breathing turning ragged as he leaned forward to place his elbows on his knees.

The blond shared the same analogy you had, feeling like an awkward teen all over again with how he could barely calm himself from such a simple interaction.

Leon kept himself on the edge of his bed, sitting up only slightly to pull his cock out from his boxers and unzipped pants, rock solid and incredibly sensitive. You'd been so close to him, and god the way you looked and sounded after giving the concert your all made it so easy for Leon to paint a picture of what you'd look like after he got his hands on you.

He's been hard for hours at this point, not even caring to undress fully before jerking himself off with the same hand that you'd written your number on. He was so thankful his precum didn't stain through to his pants during that whole ordeal, he wouldn't have known what to do if you knew about his problem.

The pen smudged as he wet his hand with his precum, the liquid smearing the ink all along his hand and dick. He didn't care, it'll wash off, he just needed to take care of himself right now. He wanted you, and now he knew you wanted him too, to some extent.

Leon closed his eyes, moving his left hand down to fondle his balls as he stroked himself faster, doing his best to imagine it was you playing with him like this. Whimpering with every breath, he started to wonder how you'd handle him: Your hands were a lot smaller than his, would you have to use two hands to stroke him properly? Would you touch his balls like this? Bet you'd be so willing to suck his cock, fuck, you probably taste so good too. Eating you out would be so fun, hearing you moan out his name with that pretty voice of yours-

It only took about a minute for him to cum onto the floor, eyebrows furrowed and panting heavily as he gripped the base of his cock tightly, feeling it throb with each string of cum that pumped out.

Wonder if you're on birth control..

Leon had to return to work the next week, feigning the flu in its final stages to keep up with his little white lie. No one questioned him, only offering smiles and the occasional "glad you're feeling better".

He didn't really do his work to the best of his ability, his main focus being when would be the right time to call you.

Embarrassingly, the agent went out and bought a flip phone since he didn't have his own phone. He hadn't needed his own phone before, using only his work phone when anything work related came up.

He didn't want to risk putting your number into your work phone and he figured having your number was a good time to invest in a personal phone.

Now, Leon had to gamble with the idea of calling you. Obviously he'll wait until he's home, but it's hard to think of anything else when you're only a button away.

His aloofness was normal to his coworkers, even more explainable considering he was "sick" last week. He was incredibly thankful no one bothered him with extra work tonight.

After work, he was sat on his couch, staring down at his new phone while the TV was on, flashing only colors in his periphery since he'd muted it. It was only 5pm, he was contemplating calling you. He wanted to hear your voice again, but he didn't know if it was too late in the evening or not.

You said you were easily reachable, so it's all or nothing, he guessed.

He pushed through his nerves, pressing the call button before slamming the phone against his ear with a slight wince. Every ring caused him to tense up.

On the final ring you finally picked up, breathing out a quick "Hello?" into the phone. Leon sat there frozen, sucking in a harsh breath before letting out a cough.

"Hey-.. Uh, hey. It's uh, it's Leon.."

There was a bit of a pause on the other end before you responded, voice cheerful despite sounding out of breath.

"Oh hey! I was wondering when I'd hear from you! How are you?"

"Uh.. I've been alright... how about you?"

Leon patted his thigh with his left hand, mentally chastising himself for his voice cracking again.

"I'm doing good, uh, I'm fighting a spider, so.."

You breathed into the phone with a laugh, causing Leon to smile and relax a bit as you kept the conversation alive.

"Oh yeah, spiders are kind of evil. Need me to ward it off?"

"I mean, I would take you up on that offer, but I'm already about 100 miles away from your city at this point."

Leon cursed internally, turning his head away from the phone to sigh where you could hear it.

"I appreciate it, though. This thing is nasty."

Your voice pulled him back to the phone, bringing a smile back to his face.

"You should get uh... that drummer of yours to help you. Two against one."

"Everyone is out at dinner. I'm all alone in this, Leon."

Your dramatic tone made him chuckle, leaning his head back against the couch.

"Okay, well, I'm with you in spirit."

The laugh you emitted only egged Leon on further.

"How long are you gonna be in the next city? If uh.. if you don't mind me asking."

"For a few days. It's our last city on the tour we're doing, then we go back to LA."

The agent nodded silently with a hum, his confidence slowly coming back to him. He needed to put his intentions out there.

"Would you mind if I drove out and took you to dinner tomorrow?"

He's now sweating bullets. There was another brief pause before you responded, the silence causing him to tense up once more.

"...I normally wouldn't accept something like that... but, you know what, I'll take you up on that."

Leon let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, now leaning forward with a relieved look. You could hear the relief in his voice too.

"Uh- awesome! Okay, I'll find somewhere nice to take you."

You two said your goodbye's and hung up after you told the agent which city and hotel you were staying at.

He took it upon himself to go into his office and search up the location on his computer, easily memorizing the path to where you were since it mostly just involved following a freeway the majority of the way.

It took awhile for Leon to calm down after that call, now busy anticipating his journey tomorrow to see you. It'll be easy to call out of work again, saying the sickness flared back up or something along those lines. Anything to see your pretty face again.

He spent the night with himself, finding himself unable to fall asleep once more, just like the night before your concert. The man had never been or felt this desperate before, chasing some person he barely knew over a silly crush. Okay, it was more than a crush if he had to be honest with himself.

Planning on leaving early, he was more than frustrated when he finally fell asleep close to 4am. He wanted to scope out good restaurants and nice places to park, if it came down to that. The hopeful bastard.

Groggy, Leon got himself up only 2 hours after he'd fallen asleep, drinking the coffee he'd made himself on the stove days ago. It tasted stale, but it would have to do.

He definitely sounded the part when calling out sick again, which was accepted without question.

Wanting to make sure he looked his best even after a long car ride, he showered and shaved his stubble right before leaving, making sure to bring his cologne, hairbrush, and gum.

The drive was boring, traffic irritated Leon, but he eventually made it to the city you were in at around 3pm. He called you again, thankful you answered, and asked if 6pm was a good time, to which you happily accepted.

The three extra hours provided the blond with the much needed time to explore restaurant options and generally nice places to walk around. You probably weren't in this city often, if at all, so wandering like tourists seemed fit.

He eventually settled on a nice sushi restaurant since he hadn't had sushi in awhile. They had plenty of non-sushi options on the off chance you didn't like sushi. Or, you could pick the restaurant, he didn't mind, as long as he got to spend time with you.

Leon was nervous. He had to wipe his hands off a good few times since they'd grown clammy while gripping the steering wheel. He was parked outside the hotel you were staying at, having called you just a couple minutes before to let you know he was outside.

While waiting, the agent decided to get out and lean against the passenger door of his car. He wanted to be a gentleman and open the door for you, though he wasn't really sure people still held the door for others anymore.

His heart skipped a beat when he saw you walk out past the main sliding doors of the hotel, immediately straightening his posture while giving you an awkward smile. You looked absolutely amazing.

"Hey," Leon breathed out, frozen for a moment before suddenly remembering to open the passenger door for you. He just couldn't keep his eyes off of you.

"Hey." You replied back, almost just as winded as he was. "Sorry, I didn't expect the elevator to be so busy. It took a couple rotations before I could even get down here."

You smiled at Leon as a silent thanks, sitting yourself down in his car before he carefully closed the door once you'd settled. After getting into the car himself, he gave you a quick glance and a smile of his own before driving to the restaurant.

Although the conversation between you and Leon was airing on the side of awkward, the two of you slowly loosened up as the night went on. Your apprehension regarding going out with a fan quickly left once you realized how charming the man actually was.

The power dynamic was one of your main worries. You didn't want to feel like you were taking advantage of a man so eager to please, but Leon actually had the same worry, considering his work as a government agent gave him a lot of special privileges that aren't normally handed out to the common person.

Luckily for him, you didn't pry about his work. You gladly accepted his vague description about working for the government and that was that.

You also didn't pry about his interest in you as a musician when the topic came up. That was a given.

After dinner, the two of you wandered around the downtown part of the city for awhile, sightseeing while chatting about anything and everything. You felt oddly safe around Leon, something about him just screamed stability.

Leon felt the same way about you, but the way he described you was fluffy. You made him feel fluffy and warm. And the promise of domesticity and love only made him want you more.

You were so easy to talk to. He rarely ever indulged anyone about his personal life, but he found himself talking about anything he could remember about his childhood on a whim with you.

You were stopped a few times by fans that recognized you. The majority of them had driven up to the city to see your concert.

He knew it was going to happen, but Leon really didn't like how they so carelessly wandered up to you. Did you not look busy to them? Pretty disrespectful, if you asked him.

Leon made sure to make his presence known by placing a gentle hand on your shoulder which pulled you from the brief conversation you'd been so rudely dragged into. If he actually got an opportunity to be with you, the attention you receive will definitely take some getting used to.

A reserved, near isolated man with a popular musician? What a combo that would be.

Eventually, you and Leon ended up back at the hotel you were staying at. The blond didn't want to leave, and it was clear you didn't want him to leave either, but he had work the next day and you were going to be extremely busy the rest of the week. So, as one does, you invited him into your hotel room anyways.

To hell with work, calling out again wouldn't hurt. He was good at feigning illness.

He followed you inside like a puppy, his chest practically pressed against your back the entire way up to your room. You didn't share a room with your bandmates, Leon thanks god for that, so he was able to settle a lot quicker once you led him into the room. You both took your shoes off, leaving them near the door.

As expected, the agent was awkward at first. The two of you just sat on the edge of the bed next to each other and talked for awhile longer.

"I'll admit, it's been a really long time since I've done anything. With anyone." Leon admitted quietly, his hands clasped together in his lap since he didn't quite know what to do with them in the moment.

You laughed nervously in response, almost mimicking his position. "Yeah, it's been a long time for me too. I'm very out of practice.."

He turned his head to look at you with a weak smile tugging at the corner of his lips, eyebrows furrowed upwards. "We don't have to do anything. We can just... hang out for awhile if you want to?"

You contemplated for a moment before responding to him again. "I mean, I'm totally fine with either or..?"

Leon really wanted to fuck you. He's been imagining this moment ever since he first discovered your music. He wished he wasn't so anxious, but he needs to power through that. He needs you.

"Can-" the man cleared his throat before taking in a small breath, voice hushed. "Can I kiss you?"

The second he heard you whisper out a weak "yeah", he quickly angled himself so his body was facing yours, tilting his head to the right as he leaned in and pressed his lips gently against yours.

It only took you a brief moment to bring your arms up to wrap around his neck, his hands moving to grip your waist, rubbing circles against it through your shirt as the kiss deepened.

He loved how vocal you were. You sang beautifully, sure, but he never would've guessed you'd be so sensitive to touch. The little whimpers you made just from being kissed and caressed were already driving him crazy.

Leon moved down to kiss your neck, nipping and sucking hickeys wherever he could. He tucked his fingers underneath your shirt, bunching it up partially before moving away from your neck to pull your shirt off.

He took some time to ogle at your figure, a low growl rumbling from his chest as he shifted himself on top of you, gently pushing you back against the bed to continue his assault on your neck.

Your breathy moans only continued to egg him on. Everything he's ever felt regarding you quickly came bubbling back up, leading him to leave a trail of hickeys down your neck, all along your collarbone, and on the tops of your breasts.

Leon had moved his right hand to grip the point of your hip, the left groping one of your boobs through your bra while keeping himself propped up with his knees on either side of your legs as he sat hunched over you.

The man couldn't keep his hands off of you, his hands dragging up and down your body as they swapped places every few seconds.

"Leon-.. god, please..." You moaned breathlessly, chest heaving. He groaned at the sound of his name leaving your pretty lips, dragging himself back up pull you into a heated kiss.

"My name sounds so good when you moan it." Leon growled against your lips, nipping at your bottom lip which caused you to gasp, allowing him to lick into your mouth. "You taste amazing."

Your hands moved from the sheets to wrap around his neck again, carding your fingers up through the that fluffy golden hair on the nape of his neck. When he pulled away so you both could catch your breath, he wasted no time standing up to shuck off his own shirt.

Leon smirked when you sat up on your elbows, watching your wide eyes rake down his sculpted torso.

"Glad you like what you see." He wiggled his eyebrows at you, causing you to scoff playfully and grab one of the pillows off the bed, tossing it at him. He laughed, catching the pillow to throw right back at you, albeit a little softer than you had. "Hey, hey, alright."

You laughed with him as the pillow landed on your chest, letting it slip off to the side as you sat up fully. You tucked your legs under your ass, sitting back on your haunches as you reached forward to rest your hands against his thighs.

Looking up at Leon with those doe eyes, he just couldn't resist. He knew what you wanted. "Go on, don't be shy.." he spoke in a hushed tone, moving his right hand to rest on your head to play with your hair.

He angled his head down so he could watch you fumble with his belt, wanting to let you set the pace now.

"Thaaat's it, there ya go mama..." Leon whispered with a gravelly voice, eyes half lidded as he watched you finally pull his belt from the loops. Your hands were shaky as they now worked to unbutton and unzip his jeans, glancing up at him occasionally to make sure you were doing everything right.

Once you were able to fully undo the agent's jeans, he moved his hand off your head so he could tug them all the way down for you, kicking them away which left him in only his boxers and socks.

As mentioned before, you were out of practice. You didn't have a very good frame of reference for men, but Leon's sizable erection straining against his boxers was more than intimidating.

The man could tell you were worried. He didn't want to scare you, no, that's the last thing he wanted. So he brought his right hand up to hold the side of your face, caressing your cheekbone his thumb. "Don't feel pressured, sweetheart. Take your time for me."

You looked up at him as you took in a shaky breath, leaning your head against his hand for a moment with a nervous smile. "Thank you... Just-.. just work with me here.." you huffed, moving your gaze back down to his bulge.

You lifted your head away from his hand to which he moved back up to stroke your hair, keeping his gaze fixed down on you.

You tucked your fingers under the waistband of his boxers, glancing up at him one last time, prompting him to smile in approval. You nodded, swallowing dryly as you slowly tugged them down.

His cock sprung out at you and you let out a quiet gasp as it stood directly in front of your face now, tip red and angry. "Oh wow... okay.." you whispered, mostly to yourself as you took in the size of it.

Leon gave a breathy chuckle as he watched you, moving his legs a bit so his boxers would fall the rest of the way down.

You let your hands rest against the tops of his thighs again, a bit closer to his v-line as you looked back up at him. "I like your uh-.. I like your happy trail..."

Your quiet admission dragged another laugh from the man, who was looking right back at you with probably the most endearing expression. "Oh, do you?" You nodded. "I'll make sure to keep it for you then."

The way Leon kept stroking your hair felt so nice, his voice was really encouraging too. You were incredibly thankful he was willing to take things slow and let you lead for the moment.

Speaking of taking the lead, you brought your eyes back down to stare at his cock, watching precum pearl from the slit. You gave yourself one last mental push before bringing your right hand up to wrap around the base, glancing up at Leon when he hissed from the sensitivity.

Your eyes moved from his dick to his face every few seconds as you began slow, languid strokes. Once the blond was able to get past the sensitivity, he was smirking at you again, those encouraging words beginning to slip from his mouth again. "Mmm~... that's gooood... just like that, baby.."

Your confidence in the whole situation was growing with every word of praise Leon directed at you, leading to your hand beginning to move faster. Slick was pooling into panties now, especially with the way he was looking at you with that blissed out expression.

You must've had your own look going since he felt the need to comment on it. "You like that, mama? Like the weight on my cock in your hand?" You only moaned out in response. "Yeah you do. If only you could see the way you look, fuck- I wish I could take a picture. Those pretty eyes lookin' up at me while you stroke it, pouty lil' lips- shit~..."

Leon let you stroke him for awhile longer before patting your head softly, pulling your hand away from him. "C'mon, love. You're a bit overdressed for this, aren't you?"

Damn, you hadn't even realized you still had your bra and pants on. You made quick work of the bra, reaching back to unhook it before letting it fall forward and off your shoulders.

"Ohh~.. There's my gorgeous girl~.." Leon purred, eyeballing your now exposed breasts, cock twitching as he looked over the hickeys that he'd covered the tops of them with. "Those tits of yours look a bit heavy, mind if I hold 'em for ya?"

The agent chuckled as you clicked your tongue at him, and though you didn't want to, you couldn't help but smile at his joke.

He gently pushed you down back onto the bed by your shoulder, letting you move your legs out before he climbed on top of you again. "At least let me love on 'em for a bit?"

The way he said that almost seemed like he was begging, and maybe he was, but regardless you nodded, blush deepening as he brought his head down to your breasts.

He resumed how he was before when he was on top of you, caging you underneath his broad form. Leon teased you, kissing all around the soft mounds before bringing his right hand up to grope one while he attached his lips to the other, licking and sucking your nipple. Your hands flew up to grip at his hair, needing some sort of register.

"O-oh... Leon- ah~! ..Pl-ease be gentle..." As much as he tried to hold back, he couldn't help how desperate he was to taste and feel all of you; your soft cries of pleasure, the way your voice broke when he rolled his tongue around the perked bud, he wanted it all. Soon he was moaning, nearly whimpering, eyes closed while his mouth swapped from one nipple to the other, making sure both got equal treatment.

Leon had shifted his legs up a bit more, almost sitting on your thighs as he sat hunched over you, hands tight on your waist as he centered his focus on using his mouth to toy with your nipples, cock laying right below your belly button as it weeped onto your stomach. He was soaking you in, in love with how responsive you were, in love with you.

Eventually, you tugged his head away from your tender breasts, his mouth wet with his saliva as he looked at you with a dopey smile.

Leon needed more of you. He needed to taste more of you.

Pulling you to the edge of the bed as he stood, Leon quickly yanked off your pants, tossing them to the side. He took a moment to drink in the sight of you; blush running down to your chest, hickeys covering your upper half, nipples swollen, that beautiful body, panties absolutely soaked. He really wanted to take a picture now.

After the agent finished taking in the scenic view in front of him, he slipped down onto his knees, pulling you by your hips so your legs dangled over the edge.

He sighed contently, placing his hands on the inside of your thighs as you attempted to close them. He wasn't really listening at this point, but he could hear you whimper something about 'not staring at it'.

Alright, Leon won't stare. He'll do you one better.

He planted his face right against your clothed pussy, breathing in your heady scent with a low groan, causing his cock to twitch again. "Ohh-ho hooo.. shit baby~.. that's good..."

You gasped, legs trying to close instinctively again which Leon didn't allow. He was so strong, barely straining to keep you spread wide for him as flattened his tongue against the gusset before closing his mouth around it. His nose bumped against your clit over and over as he moved his head up and down, taking in everything you had to offer through your panties.

Your panties started to irritate the man fast, growling as he had to pull himself away from you to tug them off. He dropped them next to where his knees sat on the floor, making a mental note to take those whenever he left your hotel room.

As soon as your panties were off your body, he threw one of your legs over his shoulder, using his right hand to reach up and spread your pussy lips. You whined again about not wanting him to stare which was cut off with a moan as he moved his thumb to press against your clit and rub in small circles.

"If I wanna look at ya, I'm gonna.. and you're gonna let me too..." Leon slurred slightly, eyebrows furrowing as he watched you clench around nothing with a whimper.

"Oh, you like that, huh?" He rumbled, now stroking his index and middle finger through your folds, spreading slick up to your clit so he could keep massaging it. "You like when I get a little bossy with you, pretty girl? Hm?"

You nodded, eyes shut tight as you balled your fists up in the sheets. "Look at me, mama.. Watch me..." Your eyes opened at his words, teary from the stimulation, and he laughed. "There ya go~.. Watch me devour this sweet little cunt of yours."

His words barely had a chance to register in your clouded head before his face was buried back into your crotch, immediately licking along your folds. He slung your other leg over his shoulder before sliding his tongue around your slit, moaning as slick ran into his mouth. You responded with slurred moans of your own, hands flying back to grip at his hair. You muttered out barely legible nonsense, words almost always cut off by moans and whines as Leon sucked on your clit, nipping at it ever so gently.

The agent hadn't experienced this in so long. You sounded so pretty, tasted so good. You were all his now and he had to make sure you knew that too.

"Taste so good. All mine." He growled into your cunt, wrapping his arms under and over your legs so he could place his hands on your hips, holding you steady to keep you from squirming. "This pussy's all mine." He repeated with a chuckle as he continued to lap at your folds, tongue dipping into your hole.

"L-Leon-! I-...I can't-!" You cried out, tugging at his hair as you tried to pull his face away from you. You were close, it was too much.

Oh he needed this. Leon needed you to cum on his face. He brought his still partially slicked up fingers to your pussy, pulling his mouth away for just a moment while he wet them again with a mix of your slick and his saliva.

Immediately, he placed his mouth over your clit, sucking as he pushed one finger into your dripping hole, drawing a breathy gasp from you.

His finger was quickly buried to the knuckle, wiggling it a bit inside of you before starting to pump it in and out of you.

The combination of feeling Leon's thick finger inside of you, curling to hit just the right spot while sucking on your clit had you tumbling over the edge, choking out a moan as tears spilled from your eyes.

It had been so long since you'd done this with anyone, and even then, no one really took the time to focus on you like this.

Your orgasm racked through your body, legs trembling as you gasped, trying to catch your breath. Leon eased you through it, pulling his mouth away so he could look watch his finger slowly disappear into you repeatedly. Once he pulled his finger out, he sucked it clean, leaning down just a bit to drink you up.

"Mm.. good job, sweetheart.." He sighed, taking the chance to stare at your glistening cunt for a bit longer before setting your legs back down on the bed so he could get up off his knees.

The man sat you up as he crawled onto the bed, holding onto your waist as he moved to sit against the headboard, legs out in front of him. He pulled you up onto his lap, making sure you were in a comfortable position.

"That good, mama?" Leon whispered, running his hands down your arms as his eyes trailed down to where your cunt sat right against his cock.

"Yeah... yeah that's good..." You whispered back, angling your head down a bit as you moved your hips experimentally. You did it again when Leon moaned, his hands moving down to your hips so he could grind you down his dick.

The agent harshly huffed through his nose, watching your puffy lips glide across the length of him. "Damn, that's it baby- grind on my fucking cock... god you're so wet."

You let Leon grind you down onto him, weak and drawn out moans being pulled from your lips every time the head of his dick bumped against your swollen clit. He was so focused on you.

"Lift up for me." He ordered, moving one his hands to pat your thigh. You mindlessly did as he told you, lifting yourself up onto your knees so he could line himself up with your hole.

"Gonna fuck ya good.." The blond grumbled, furrowing his eyebrows as he brought his hand back up so both were on your hips again. "Gonna have ya bouncin' on this cock, baby.."

He slowly pushed you down, both of you moaning in tandem when his head pushed past that tight ring of muscle. He gave you a moment to adjust before pushing you further down, mouth agape as your pussy sucked him in.

Once you were fully seated on his dick, you let out a shaky whine, placing your hands on his pecs for balance even though Leon would make sure to keep you upright.

Giving you more time to adjust, he tightened his grip on your hips, feeling your walls clench around him before relaxing a bit. His breathing was ragged, doing everything in his power not to pound into you right then and there.

Instead, he began to grind you on his cock, moving your hips back and forth. You gasped and moaned, nails digging into the taut muscle on his chest. He couldn't help but moan as well, just the sight of him balls deep in your cunt was enough to have him ragged.

"Okay..." You breathed out, causing Leon to hold your hips still. "Okay.. okay I-.. I'm good.." you nodded, looking down briefly where the two of you sat connected before looking up at his face.

Leon didn't need to be told twice, breathing out a groan as he slowly lifted you up. The head was almost pulled out of you before he sat you all the way back down onto his dick. Your lips made an 'o' as you felt him caress the inside of you, breathing still shaky.

After repeating the process a couple more times, he started to pick up the pace, even meeting you with thrusts of his own.

"God- shit baby-.. fuuuck~.." Leon breathed out, eyebrows furrowed as he focused on bouncing you up and down while timing his thrusts. "Bounce on my cock, mama.. Feel it deep in that pussy?"

He spoke breathlessly, eyes moving from your face down to where his dick drilled into you, almost drooling at the erotic sound of skin slapping and your pussy squelching.

"Uh-huh.." You moaned, moving your hands up to his shoulders so you could start to bounce yourself without Leon's help. "S'good.. ohhhh~.."

"Yeeeaahhh, it's good, huh?" Leon smirked, though it faltered a bit as you ground yourself down onto him again before starting to bounce again. "You love it, don't ya?"

You nodded lazily, tears starting to run down your face again while your legs trembled as they grew tired from the workout. The agent took notice of this, taking it upon himself to start bouncing you again since his hands were still firmly planted on your hips.

"Sing for me, sweetheart. Let me hear my superstar sing." Leon's thrusts turned hard as he felt you clench around him, listening to the way your voice rose again as your sensitivity grew. He filled you in all the right places, like you were made for him.

Your second orgasm made you scream, though it wasn't as loud as you thought considering your voice cracked. Your back arched, pussy clenching around Leon's cock like a vice.

He moved his arms up to wrap around your lower back as it arched, muscles flexing as he pulled you against his chest. He fucked you through your orgasm, thrusting up into you like it's the last thing he'll ever do. You were so overstimulated, tears now streaming down your face as choked out moans were forced out of you.

"Want me to cream this sloppy cunt of yours?" He growled into your ear, only getting a loud whine in response. "Words, use your words, c'mon."

"P-please-!" You managed to stutter out as he pounded into you, wrapping your arms around his shoulders so you could bury your face into his neck, tears dripping onto his exposed skin.

"Fuck- finally..." Leon rasped as he thrust into you for a few seconds longer before he held you firmly down on his lap. He came with a low groan, chuckling at your gasp when you felt him throb and pump you full of cum. "Take it, baby, fucking take it all..."

You both sat unmoving for a long minute, catching your breath before sitting up with a whine as your legs screamed at you and his cock shifted inside you.

The agent eased you off with a hum, watching his cum drip out of you and onto his stomach. You sat back once you felt him spread his legs for you, slotting yourself between them.

"Oh you're just perfect, aren't you? Gonna clean me off?" Leon chuckled when you nodded, sighing when you pressed your face against his cock after laying yourself on your stomach.

You licked a lazy stripe up the length of it, eyes closing as you tasted a mix of your juices and his cum. He placed a hand into your hair, gently combing through it as you sucked the head into your mouth with a soft whimper.

Leon watched with hungry eyes as you sucked on his cock, fitting what you could into your mouth before pulling away to lick him

clean, even going so far as to lick the cum off his stomach that had dripped out of you a minute prior.

"Perfect.. So good for me." Leon muttered out bits of praise for you, petting through your hair once you'd finished and just had his dick pressed against your cheek while you stroked it with your right hand. "My perfect superstar."

You smiled weakly, sitting up and crawling to the side so he could lay down, pulling your back flush against his chest the second you laid down.

The both of you were up early the next morning showering, Leon helping you clean by holding you against the shower wall so he could eat you out.

You had to go in to help your bandmates and crew set up the next stage you'd be performing at, so you gave Leon a tender kiss goodbye, reminding him to call you.

Oh he'll be calling you, right after he calls his boss. He forgot to call out and he already had a couple missed calls from them.

#Leon would 100% keep his music taste a secret #look! a dom leon this time #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy x you #leon scott kennedy x reader #resident evil #leon s kennedy #baby baby boy #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader smut #resident evil leon #leon x reader #re4 leon #leon kennedy fic #leon kennedy x fem reader

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eminemily05 · 3 months

Text

Passion’s Dance

Husk x Reader

I couldn’t help myself with this one 🫣 3.2k words, holy shit.

This is a Husk x Reader 18+ imagine. Please, please don’t interact if you’re a minor. I don’t want you to get in trouble with parents.

This is very, very self indulgent and is the first smut I’ve written seriously since I was like…15? So please forgive me if it’s all over the place. Kind constructive criticism is very much welcome, just don’t be a dick about it.

Warning: Sexual Themes (obviously), and vague descriptions of feline anatomy.

The story is under the cut.

“If anythin’ hurts too much, tap out. Don’t try an’ be tough.”

Bedding Husk was no easy feat. It took long enough for him to even allow you to put a label on what you two were. He’d been through enough ‘relationships’ that the terms ‘dating’ and ‘partners’ had become so unappealing to him.

He’d been hurt enough and had hurt others enough, he didn’t want to bring in false hope for himself. Not to mention his lover.

However, you’d pushed past those walls (respectfully, of course) and wormed your way into his old, tired soul. As much as he tried to hide it, he was glad to have you. Husk knew that being with him, exclusively, wasn’t for the faint of heart. He self-destructed, drank himself to blackouts, and gambled his money when he got the chance.

He was patient, sure, but you had to be when dealing with Alastor. Husk was forced to be complacent. He’d described himself as ‘broken’ on more than one occasion.

But, you never let that push you away. You knew why he did it, why he beat himself down, why he stayed silent when obviously something was wrong. You were patient, truly patient. You didn’t push too hard, but you didn’t let Husk push you, either. He respected that.

Now, if Husk letting you label your relationship wasn’t hard enough, getting him to be truly intimate was a damn miracle.

He’s not innocent, by any means. He’s had a fling here and there. One-night stands almost every night when he was alive. Business ‘transactions’ as an Overlord. He’s been through it all. But, he’s never had a true night of passion with someone he’s truly loved. Husk never had a reason to. Especially as an Overlord, he was rough, cruel, uncaring.

He doesn’t want to test that beast showing its fangs to you.

You two had been going steady for a good number of months. Getting Husk to warm up to you took time. Gentle kisses and touches in privacy were hard enough. He’d shy away from the affection for the first couple months, tense and unsure of it. The barkeep had never been shown affection that didn’t have some kind of motive behind it.

Slowly, he’d started to grow into it. Leaning, ashamedly, into soft pecks and gentle scratching between his wings or ears. However, he usually didn’t reciprocate. And when he did, he always made sure to ask first. He would never act without your permission, even when you insisted it was alright.

It was for his ‘peace of mind,’ he’d tell you each time.

You built on that over the months, gently warming him to your affections and presence. Wing touches here and there, gentle ear rubs, hands through the hair on top of his head. He began to lean into all of it more and more, becoming more confident in his touches and affection towards you. Behind closed doors, of course. Gods forbid Angel ever found out. Husk wouldn’t hear the end of it.

After months and months of soft, careful affection and touching, he finally came to you. He was ready, now.

It was a romantic little date proposal, by your standards.

He had walked up to you, a set of plastic playing cards folded up into roses. Those definitely had the handiwork of someone like Charlie, but you weren’t going to mention that. You could almost hear her squeals at the idea of him, begrudgingly, asking for that kind of help.

He asked you on a date, and how could you possibly say no?

Well, one date later and here you both were.

Sitting on his lap, fingers curled in the fur on the back of his head as he littered your neck in soft kisses. His claws roaming gently over your clothed figure, catching the seams in the slightest of actions.

Soft jazz played from a record set on his dresser. You had bought that for him a while ago after learning he liked the style of music, but had no way to play it himself. And like hell he was going to put a radio in his room. Alastor owning his soul was more than enough.

His ears twitched at the sound of your soft breaths, his paws settling over your hips and squeezing. A low groan soon followed from you, drawing a chuckle from the bartender.

“Feelin’ good?” His tongue poked out to swipe across your neck, sending a shiver through your body at the rough texture. He knew what he was doing, damn him.

As much as you’d love to kiss that grin off his face… “Y..You’re being quite the tease, you know?” You shot back. He gave you a smirk and another squeeze.

His kisses gently trailed back up your neck, a soft path leading to the corner of your open mouth. “Mm, that wasn’t what I asked.” He mumbled against your lips before leaning in completely, closing the gap.

A rough tongue lapped across your bottom lip, coaxing a soft whine from your throat. He took the chance to dip it into your mouth, grazing your own in the process. Husk’s paws wrapped securely around your hips as he maneuvered you both to the bed. Your back was laid against the soft covers as he hovered above you, kiss unbroken.

Fighting you for dominance, one of his paws left its spot on your hip. Claws softly dipped into the opening of the shirt and guided upwards, running against your quickly warming skin. You couldn’t help but arch slightly into the touch. Husk chuckled against your lips, noticing. His wings twitched in excitement.

All too soon, he pulled back. Your head instinctively tried to follow him. Much to your disappointment, he hummed and nuzzled his cheek to yours. You giggled at the ticklish feeling, but he firmly continued.

He wanted nothing more than to be able to smell his own scent on you long after this was over. To know he had taken good care of you, with the invisible mark to prove it.

The paw in your shirt drifted up further, slipping under all your layers. He pressed it gently against your nipple, his tail and ears perking at the sound of your soft gasp.

You blushed, looking up at him. He looked back, almost asking for permission. Gods, he could be so sweet..

Nodding, you reached to help remove your top. His other paw was quick to stop you. “Let me take care of ya. You’ve been doin’ it for me long enough, baby.” Husk’s paws made quick work of your upper layers, laying your chest and stomach bare for him to see.

Him, and him alone.

Shaking his head of the thought, he leaned down. His lips pressed back against yours in another kiss, tongue pushing in with little resistance. The demon’s paws moved up, down, and across the expanse of your newly exposed skin. Soft fur rubbing against your warm skin. You arched up into the feeling.

A hand reached up and settled in the fur between his wings, pushing him closer against you. Husk’s wings puffed at the intruder between them. He shuddered against you, tongue pressing roughly to yours and drawing a soft squeak from you. Then, he pulled back.

You whined at the loss.

Shifting his hips carefully against yours, you bit your lip. You could feel his excitement pressed against the warmth between your legs. His whipping tail told you he could feel yours just the same.

But that could wait.

Instead, he shifted his attention back to your chest. Your nipples had grown stiff with the introduction of the cold air. Leaning down, he settled his mouth around one of them. Swirling his tongue around the peak. He knows the right pressure to use.

His teeth graze across the bud, eliciting a sharp gasp from you. His tongue soothes gently across the area, turning the gasp to a soft squeal. Husk hasn’t forgotten about your other one, though. A paw reaches up and gently rubs over the other nipple, pressing down in slow circles. Your hips gently buck up against him.

He laps gently at your peak, purring softly before he can even think. His claws tweak your other one. A soft mewl leaves your mouth before you can think. Quickly, he switches spots. Your other nipple is enveloped into the warmth of his mouth as the former is given the same tweaking treatment.

Soft moans and purring fill the room. The hybrid demon’s tail flicks absentmindedly in the air. His ears are facing you, enjoying every sound his movements draw from you.

“Husk…” You moan, gently tugging at the hair on the top of his head. He looks up at you through lidded eyes. A flick of his ear is the only way you can tell he’s heard you. “Husk, please…”

Pulling back with a wet pop, he looks down at you.

“I know, Doll. But ya need to be ready.” His kisses trail down your torso gently, tongue lapping against the warm skin. You shudder and watch him, your own gaze hazy from his actions.

He hums low against your belly, sending a soft vibration against it. That only added to your growing arousal. A twitch of his nose told you he noticed.

Sitting back, he stripped himself of his suit and slacks. His fur puffed up at its release and he chucked the garments off to the side. Concealed within the soft fur was a ribbed length. It was average in length, but was definitely a good sized girth that would need adjusting to.

You shuddered at the sight.

Husk made quick work of your lower layers, tossing them to join your upper layers and his suit in a pile on the floor. He’d worry about cleaning that later.

Looking down at you, he couldn’t help the trill that left his throat.

“Fuckin’ beautiful.” His wings puffed up gently as he leaned back down, pulling you into yet another kiss. Tongues dancing as his paws moved down to shift your hips up against his.

Once you were adjusted against him to his liking, he reached into his bedside table. Pulling back, he opened a small bottle.

You looked at him, brow raised.

“And you have a bottle of lube…why?”

His ears went flat as he gave you a look. “Maybe another time.”

Before you could protest, a cold feeling hit your hole. You squealed at the temperature shock. Husk only smirked. Bastard.

Opening your mouth to curse him, a soft moan quickly replaced your words. The bartender’s paw rubbed the gel in gently, the soft pad smoothing over your hole in soft but pressured circles. Gripping his arm, you bucked at the feeling.

He simply chuckled as he drew his paw back, taking the time to coat his own dick in lube. He didn’t even flinch.

You definitely had questions for later.

Shifting to line his hips up with yours, he looks at you. A serious look is on his face.

“If anythin’ hurts too much, tap out. Don’t try an’ be tough.” He threaded a hand into your hair, scratching your scalp gently.

You leaned into the touch, nodding. “If it hurts too much, I’ll tap out. I promise.” He leaned down and bumped his nose to yours.

“Good.” He lines himself up to your lubed entrance. “Can I?”

In a world full of boys, he truly can be a gentleman. Always asking for permission before doing anything with you, it was sweet.

You gave him a nod, reaching up to gently cup his fluffy cheeks. “You can.”

He leaned into the touch as he slowly pushed himself in. You were right. The girth, combined with noticeable bumps and ridges, would take a bit of adjusting to. Clawing at his back pulled a low hiss from him, making him stop.

“Fuckin’- ‘Stop’ would work just fine too, ya know.” He grumbled. Leaning down, he peppered your face in soft kisses. His claws wrapped around your hips, waiting to shift you into a better angle.

You nuzzled into the kisses. “You still listened.” He lets out a snort at that.

“Course I did. ‘M not a fuckin’ asshole.”

Testing the waters, you shifted your hips against him slightly. Husk let out a low growl and his wings puffed considerably. Hooking your legs around his hips, you nodded. “You can move..”

He nuzzled against your neck, using his paws to tilt your hips up against him. You could feel his cockhead reach deeper, a moan escaping you. He smirked against your skin. Slowly, his hips pulled back. The hybrid drew back until only the tip was left inside, before slowly pushing himself back in.

There was still a twinge of discomfort with it, but the lube was working well. He gave a few more thrusts like that. Deep, slow, loving. Husk was going great lengths to make sure you got used to his texture before anything else.

His tail thumped loudly against the bed, low trills and huffs leaving his throat and vibrating against your body. His claws digging into your skin told you it was taking everything in his power just to hold himself back. You reached up and scratched between his ears. The cat instantly leaned into it.

You felt yourself being shifted to rest back on the pillows. The feeling of soft fur left your hips and his paws rested on either side of your head. The rhythm of his hips against yours, sped up slightly. You moaned at the feeling, finally accustomed to the rough cock.

“You’re…so fuckin’ tight..” The growl reverberated through your ear. Kisses and nipping littered your neck, fueling your sounds. His wings spread slightly as he ground against you.

Even though he wanted nothing more than to fuck you numb into the bed, he treated you like fragile glass. Like one wrong move could absolutely break you. His thrusts slowly began to hit deeper and deeper.

When he grazed against your sweet spot, you swore you saw stars. A pitched moan was all he needed to hit that spot over and over again, his ears twitching. You clawed at his back again, but he only sped up this time. And fuck, if it didn’t feel good.

The louder your moans grew, the faster he seemed to go. Pushing you down, albeit gently, into the bed. His fur pressed against your sweat covered skin. He was desperate to chase your release, growling incoherently against your neck. Panting against the skin.

“Husk..” You mewled, gripping onto the fur of his neck slightly. He let out a loud trill and looked at you. His pupils were enlarged, threatening to cover the orange of his irises. The hazed look in his eyes was enough to make you clench. His hips stuttered against you as he felt it. “Fuck- Husk..!”

He began to litter your neck in soft bites, his thrusts steadily growing sloppy. It was obvious Husk was close. You weren’t too far behind, he could tell. And while he’d love nothing more to fill you up right then, he was still clear minded enough to know he needed to make you cum first.

So he shakily lifted himself on his front paws and pressed his hips to yours, folding them slightly. With this new angle, he slammed straight into your recently discovered sweet spot. You choked slightly at the feeling and tugged at the base of his wings. Husk‘s tail whipped loudly against the bed.

“Baby…ya can’t-“ He growled, arms buckling. “‘M close enough..fuck..! I won’t last long…if ya tug there..!”

You shakily reached up, curling your fingers in the fur on the back of his head. Bringing him into a sloppy kiss, you locked your legs around his hips. He chuckled hoarsely against your lips.

Grinding into you, he kissed down your neck. Lapping gently at the sweat covered skin with his rough tongue. Shivers wracked your body as the knot built in your gut. Pooling warm and heavy. You moaned out as Husk settled on one of your nipples, prodding it into his mouth.

He circled the bud gently, drawing loud mewls and groans from your throat. The feeling of it added to the warming coil, and you arched up against him. You were close. So close.

Pulling back from the nipple, he looked up at you. His thrusts grew sloppier, but he was holding himself back. You needed one more push.

Moving up, he nuzzled against a spot on your neck. Licking it and nipping it, he slowed his thrusts in favor of going deeper and harder. “Come on, baby..cum for me.”

As he gave a particularly hard slam, his teeth dug into your skin and marked the skin with deep grooves.

That was more than enough for you and you came hard. A loud moan of his name filled the room. Husk shook himself and gave a few more hard thrusts, ears flat. He slammed himself deep and came, thick ropes filling you up. You watched, dazed, as his wings flared out across the room.

The hybrid gave a couple more thrusts, fucking his cum into you. Then, he let himself collapse on top of you. Husk panted gently against your skin, ears flicking.

You both laid there, panting, enjoying the afterglow as your hearts calmed down. Reaching down to where Husk’s head rested against your chest, you combed your fingers through his mussed hair. He leaned into the touch with a purr, opening his eyes to look at you. You watched as he blinked away the hazy look.

You giggled. “That was amazing…I’m shocked.” He instantly bristled.

“The fuck’s that supposed t’ mean?” The cat nipped, playfully, at your chest. You know he didn’t mean anything behind it.

“I’m just kidding.” A hum built in your throat, “Thank you, though. For trusting me enough to do this.”

His ears folded back and he grumbled, distracting himself by cleaning up your bleeding mark. “Yeah yeah, whatever…thanks for..being patient.” He mumbled softly against your skin.

You cupped his face and brought it close to yours. Then, you rubbed your cheek against his. Instantly, he leaned into it, tail curling. “Don’t have to thank me for anything.”

He chuckled and lapped at your skin gently, cleaning you in his own way. When he’d grown soft, he pulled himself out and grabbed a rag. Wetting it in his bathroom, he came back and carefully cleaned you. You nuzzled against him as he finished up. His wings puffed.

“You know what you’re doing, ya little shit.” He nipped your cheek.

“No idea what you’re talking about.” You smirked, taking the rag from him and tossing it to the floor. It could make friends with your clothes down there. Then, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him back into the bed.

He curled his tail around your waist, and covered you with his wings. Softly nuzzling into your neck, his purring started up lowly. The feeling of it against you was enough to make you yawn. He closed his eyes at the sound.

“I love you, Husk.” You mumbled out as you drifted to sleep. He simply curled his wings and tail tighter around you. You didn’t expect him to answer.

“..I love you, too..”

#hazbin hotel husk #husk x reader #hazbin husk #hazbin husk x reader #hazbin hotel husk x reader #18+ content #18+ only #husk x reader smut #smut #self indulgent #can’t write sex scenes for shit

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auroracalisto · 1 year

Text

i was made for lovin' you

fem!plus size!reader, 2.4k words summary: the reader loves benedict bridgerton. when he dances the night away with her dear sister, she wonders if her love is perhaps... unrequited. a/n: my initial note for this fic was: i was the chubby unpopular insecure girl in school. i'm still the chubby girl. and i need fluff today. so that's what's gonna happen. i initially started writing this... last year. it's been over six months ago since i've touched this. the title is totally from the kiss song. tw: bodily description, vague description of anxiety, momentary insecurity, but it's brief!!

Curves adorned your body in a way that remained otherwise unknown to so many others. Thick thighs hid beneath layers of clothing. Your stomach pressed against the fabric of your top, threatening to squeeze the very essence of life out of you. But you stood there, discomfort climbing its way up your spine, threatening to call you out for being a fraud. You lived in peril, awaiting the blossoming of the flower of insecurity and fear.

No gentleman would ever look your way, even with the most expensive of clothing. Liquid gold could be dripping from your fingertips, and not one of the men in the 'ton would give you the time of day.

At least, that is what you told yourself. That is what you had believed since the time you could register the fact that you were the thicker girl.

And it's not that you hated your body. No, that was far from the truth. You had come to love yourself in your own way, trying your best to live with what the world had given you. But you knew men, and you knew the gentlemen of the 'ton. You were treated differently, just because of your size.

You were different.

But he never treated you as if there was something wrong with you. No, Benedict Bridgerton was your dearest friend, but you couldn't help but feel as if he never truly cared for you in the way that you cared for him.

The way that you loved him.

You had yet to properly talk to him, knowing his elder brother hosted the ball of the evening. It wouldn't surprise you if Benedict was busy entertaining other gentlemen—entertaining your sister, perhaps.

The clothing you wore that night was flattering, for the most part. You couldn't deny that. Your mother had chosen well for the ball, keeping your mind at bay. She had impeccable taste, regardless of the crude comments that so often left her rouge lips. But despite the clothing, despite the restricting fabric, you couldn't help but watch and feel less than others around you.

Especially when you knew the man you favored was out there, fawning over your sister (not even liquid gold would work in her favor—she merely needed to raise a finger, and men would fall to her feet, begging for a chance to be hers).

The beautiful women who danced passed you, hand in hand with a suitor or with a dear gentleman. Their dance cards were nearly filled at this point. The stunning men wore beautifully tailored suits, sending smiles and small nods to those they spoke with. Well-rounded pencils would need to be sharpened before too long.

You stuck out like a sore thumb in the corner of the ballroom, drawing imaginary attention right to your very soul.

Your dance card rested in the palm of your hand, not a single gentleman's name residing on it. Like many balls before, suitors avoided you—or perhaps, you avoided them. Staying in your safety corner seemed to be the best bet, but you knew it would catch up to you (eventually).

There wasn’t a possibility for a suitor to come to you, unless he wanted whispers to be spread. You were an outcast.

You made yourself an outcast. But perhaps our worst enemy came from our very own minds, taunting us and keeping those we love far, far away.

Had you been your elegant sister, dancing the night away with the handsome Bridgerton boy amongst many other men, maybe you would have felt more comfortable.

Her card was completely filled, and now, she milled around with her friends, looking for a gentleman to speak with. The season wouldn't last forever.

And you knew it.

The season would be over in a heartbeat, and you would be left without a single name on your dance card.

How incredibly frustrating. You knew you were beautiful. You knew you had a grand personality, fit for that of a gentleman. You were smart and intelligent and you knew how to do so many things.

But standing here, you felt as if your clothing was choking you to the point of no return. It didn't matter that you could read a book in a day, or recite your favorite poetry. It didn't matter that you learned to cook from your favorite maid, or that you could write a piece of prose so beautifully it brought tears to your delicate sister's eyes.

Warmth flooded throughout your body. You hesitantly pulled up the fabric of your skirts and made your way to the crowd, finding the cool night in an instant. The chill of the breeze cooled you down the best it could, but it could only do so much for the roaring fire in your mind.

Your mother would surely have yet another snide comment about the fact that she did all this work just for you to avoid the crowd. Your father would listen silently, but you knew he agreed. He always did.

Your sister would yet again set on a suitor, her beauty and gracefulness the only blessing upon your family. She would be set for life while you die a lowly spinster.

Maybe she would bless you with a quaint cottage of your own. She'd be able to marry the richest man in the 'ton, if she was so pleased to say yes.

You walked closer to the fountain that sat in the middle of the courtyard, eyes closing as you came to a stop. The chatter and music from the manor wafted in the air, and the smell of freshly trimmed grass plagued your nose. Goosebumps appeared on your skin as the air around you only seemed to get cooler. Perhaps outside wasn't your best decision, but anything was better than the scrutiny of roaming eyes.

Solitude found you best, creativity striking you when you were all alone—most of the time. Today, it only brought you a fraction of the comfort you sought.

Despite your indiscretion, you weren't alone for very long.

"Lady L/n?" a voice came from behind you.

Your eyes shot open and you looked over your shoulder.

Benedict Bridgerton.

He had danced with your sister nearly three dances ago—you hadn't seen him since then.

He sent you a soft smile, relaxing when he saw you.

"May I ask what you're doing out here all alone?"

"I could ask you the same thing," you said. "Sir Bridgerton."

His smile only grew.

The two of you had known each other far longer than you would ever admit, and every time you saw him reminded you of why you fell for him to begin with. But he belonged with someone else—he would be good for them, and marrying into a family of money would secure the safety of the woman's future and her family's future.

You would take what you could get, even if it meant waiting until your father made you a match… if even he could manage such a feat. He quite hated the idea of society. It was your mother who pushed him into the world, making him do good by the ‘ton and his family name.

Benedict deserved someone good—someone who would boost his status in society, and always be there to love and care for him.

Many weren't so lucky with their marriages (your mother and father, for example).

"That's no way to talk to a gentleman, now is it? Whatever would your dear mother say if she were to find out how you speak to me?" he asked, feigning offense as he placed a hand over his chest.

"Trust me," you said, turning to face him with a soft smile. "I promise she will find little problem with it when she knows you are on Katherine's card."

"Hm," he tilted his head as he watched you. "And who have you danced with, Lady Y/n? I have yet to see you out on the dance floor tonight, and now I find you all alone. It feels as if autumn is already upon us. Surely you don't want to catch a cold as well?"

"I have danced with no one," you said, looking back at the fountain. "And you surely shouldn't be here with me, alone. Quite a scandal you'd create for your sister to cover up."

"Is that not why she is the Duchess? So I can create whatever scandal I dream of?"

You could practically hear the smug smile on his face, but you didn't turn to face him. Your arms hesitantly wrapped around your torso as you continued to stare at the flowing water.

"Y/n?" he softly spoke, coming to stand beside you. "Are you alright?"

His hand touched your cold arm and you immediately pulled away.

"Should you not be back inside with Katherine?" you asked. "It will be quite a scandal if you were to be out here with me."

He furrowed his eyebrows. "What is with you and scandals? Nothing of the sort will happen. I'd much rather spend the rest of the evening with you."

You frowned. "If you must, perhaps we should return inside. You should sign my dance card to keep my mother from asking questions."

"I would do so, gladly, Y/n, but I did not think you wanted me to do so," he said, eyebrows furrowed as he spoke.

"Why wouldn't I want you to?" you began, averting your gaze. "You know me better than I know myself."

He tilted his head curiously. "I do believe there are things I've yet to acquire," he said, gently taking your hand as he spoke. This time, you didn't pull away. "Whatever is the matter?"

"You are a dear friend, Benedict," you said. "I would never want to do something to put our friendship in jeopardy."

"Perhaps you will if you continue alluding me so. I asked you a question, my Lady."

A beat passes, the music coming from inside becoming light and jovial for the newest dance. Your sister was already dancing with another, enjoying herself and smiling all the while. Not that you could see.

"Y/n, please," he said, voice barely above a whisper—defeated, one could safely say.

"I care for you," you said. "If—if my sister is what you want, if she will make you happy, then by all means, you have my blessing."

He blinked slowly at you, lips parting to speak, but you speak first.

"I understand why you care for her so. She is beautiful, and she will be an excellent wife. She is so unlike me. She... she will make you so unbelievably happy, Benedict."

"Wait."

His fingers laced with your gloved hand as he gently pressed his other to the side of your face, making you look at him.

"Where is this coming from?" he asked, allowing his hand to drop. "Who said... who said I was interested in her?"

"No one. Nothing needed to be said for me to assume. Did I assume correctly, Lord Bridgerton?"

He chuckled softly, tilting his head as he watched you. "Not at all, my dear," he said. "You are so far from the truth that it is quite... comical."

"Comical?" you blurted, looking up at him in disbelief.

"Your sister was... helping me. I had planned to ask you in such a grand manner that I needed some assistance. Perhaps her planning skills would be far superior to mine when it comes to an event such as... well..."

"An event? What—what have you been planning, Benedict?"

His eyes softened. Were you blind? Or had he been so secretive with his feelings for you that you remained oblivious to the fact that he loved you more than life itself?

"Benedict, please," you said. "We do not have all night. They will notice we have left the party, soon enough."

"I wanted to know what would be best to ask you," he said.

"Ask me what?"

"To marry me, Y/n."

Time stood still. Big eyes stared up at him in disbelief, lips parted as you swam in an ocean of words, but nothing broke the surface. Was he serious?

"Benedict—"

"—will you marry me, Y/n?"

"I—"

"—I had planned on asking you soon, with flowers and a ring, and perhaps a grand occasion so the gentlemen knew you were taken, but—"

"—Benedict..."

He looked down at you, eyebrows furrowed. You were going to say no. He could see it in your eyes.

"You want to marry me?" you asked, hand holding onto his. "You... do you... I care for you, deeply, Benedict."

"And I, you, Y/n."

You searched his eyes for a sign—for an answer, perhaps. You had dreamed of this night for so long, and here it was, front and center. He cared for you. He wanted to marry you.

"I will," you said.

He released a breath, suddenly pulling you into his arms. You said you would. Yes. The answer was yes. Benedict would marry his best friend.

Benedict fought the urge to kiss you, despite knowing you would allow him.

“Let us return,” he softly said. “Perhaps you should inform your mother of your latest rendezvous.”

Your eyes widened a bit.

“Of course, I will be with you. Wouldn’t she enjoy seeing that?”

Your lips spread into a soft smile. “Yes. She would.”

Benedict took your hand and led you back to the porch. No one else stood outside.

“I will return first,” he softly said. “I will find your sister, and then, I will come and find you.”

“Oh, you do not want a scandal, dear Benedict?” you asked, a grin forming.

His eyes hardened as he looked back at you. “Would you like a scandal, Lady Y/n?” His voice betrayed the look he gave you, and instantly, his hard look dissolved into a smile. “Allow me to return. We will have enough gossip to go around once the news has broke in the ‘ton.” He took your hand again and pressed a kiss to your gloved knuckles. “Until we meet again.”

“I will see you inside,” you said, smiling all the while.

Benedict left you, and you waited merely a few minutes before you returned. You remained blissfully ignored, and for once, you appreciated the fact. You found your mother in an instant, and only when Benedict found you again did you tell her the news.

#benedict #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #chubby reader #fem!reader #x reader #reader insert #y/n #use of y/n #bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton fanfiction

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wildemaven · 3 months

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strangers : fog | dave york

pairing: dave york x f!reader word count: 5208 chapter warning's: 18+ blog: established relationship, workaholic Dave, soft Dave, miscommunication, Smut (slight exhibitionism, dry humping, orgasms, keeping kind of vague for the sake of not giving things away), implied/alluding to infidelity (there is none, reader just doesn’t know this), Dave’s phone makes an appearance- shocking, drinking alcohol, smoking cigarettes, conversations with bestie, reader is mentioned wearing lingerie and a bathing suit- but zero description features, no age given but it’s implied she’s at least over 30, no y/n, this is au- no Carol (at least not canon Carol) or kids, if I missed anything let me know notes: I kind of struggled with the end of this one. It felt very flat and blah, but thankfully @gnpwdrnwhiskey Is a gem and helped me, and it feels good now. So grateful for all of you who’ve been following along. Xoxo

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It’s sweet.

But not the kind of sweet that aches and destroys your addiction.

It’s perfect. Just enough.

The kind of sweet that falls somewhere in the middle. Satiating that deep seeded craving that burns through your every fiber.

Like a glass of ice cold tea under the Texas sun, sweetened to perfection. Each tantalizing drop coating your tongue, idly encompassing every single taste bud with refreshing pleasure.

You're greedy. Reveling in your consumption. Take. Take. Take. Because it’s all you want and everything you’ve been needing.

Finally.

You feel him everywhere. The weight of him is substantial, pressing you into the side of the pool. A secure grip onto the ledge, the swell of his biceps flexed as he does his best to keep you both suspended and unmoving from your secluded spot.

He’s a blistering summer heatwave, one you’re fully hydrated and prepared for, but still stunned by its sultriness.

“You think they’re watching us right? All of them so fucking jealous at how good I’m makin’ you feel.” You don’t bother to take a look when he says it, your head angled back and eyes closed as his lips work their way up your neck, your only concern at the moment.

“Mmhmm— I honestly don’t care. Let them watch. Let them see how good you’re taking care of me— fuckbaby!” Your train of thought derailed when his hips jerk up with a little more eagerness than you expected.

The cool water laps rhythmically against you both. The tiniest of splashes to your exposed skin as it surrounds your bodies, relieving the heat that’s burning through you.

“Ahh!” You gasp at the sensation of his teeth sinking into your bottom lip. Nipping and pulling. The gentle glide of his tongue soothing over the pleasant sting.

“Sorry—“ He manages to get out. “Didn’t mean to be so rough, but also been wantin’ this so fuckin’ bad.”

His lips seal over yours again, groaning where he can feel you grinding against him, discreetly hidden below the surface of the water. Your legs wrapped tightly around his narrow waist, holding him as close as possible.

He’s unbelievably hard. Cock nudging against your aching core, the water aiding in the flow of your hips moving over him in search of relief.

“I’m definitely not complaining in the slightest. If anything, I’m entirely enjoying the roughness— wouldn’t be opposed to more of it.” You say smiling against his swollen lips.

Your words lure him back in, driven by a deeper sense of want forging beneath the water. Lashes fluttering shut as every bit of him consumes your senses. All tongues and teeth, tracing over every ridge and fleshy surface. A sweet delicate dance of unbridled emotions.

It's a slow building, intensely breathtaking. Your body ignited by self-indulgent energy, so hell-bent on seeking out unrivaled satisfaction, but you don’t seem to care. Focused solely on how each and every nerve lights up because of him, desperately wanting a release. A natural response to the way he’s holding you, kissing you, his determination to bring you closer and closer to the edge.

“Fuck— that feels so good!” Breathless and anchoring yourself to his warm body.

“Yeah? You think you can come like this?” One of his hands settles on your hip, helping your unfaltering movements, hitting that ever so desirable spot just right. “There you go, gorgeous— just like that.”

“ohmygod!! I’m so close— don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.“ Your grip secure on his taut shoulders, unmoving even under the wet conditions. Your head falling onto his forehead, noses nudging, exchanging desperate wordless breaths.

“I’ve got ya.” He whispers, nodding softly as your body writhes against him. “Come for me, Baby.”

“Oh fuck! oh fuck! oh fuck— I’m coming!” Everything dissolves into pleasure. Tense and blissed out as your cunt contracts around nothing.

“Open your eyes, Baby. Let me see you come undone.”

You pull back just enough to see him. He’s beautiful, framed in a hazy white vignette. His patchy beard is both rough and soft beneath your fingertips, tracing over every little detail of him while you still can. His rich brown eyes now a golden hue as the light hits them from the reflection of the water.

“Fuck— Joel!”

You’re floating. Further and further away. Every detail of him slowly dissolving into nothingness.

Your body jolts awake, Oh god, That felt so fucking real. Quickly sitting up, your hand to your chest feeling where your heart is frantically pounding.

The dry air from the vent billows out from above you, cooling as it skims over your tacky skin.

The remnants of last night's headache still remain. Though it wanes in intensity, the throbbing pain continues. Rubbing at your temples, the added pressure doing absolutely nothing.

There’s a faint familiar ache that catches your attention from below the sheets, prompting you to throw them off, finding a pillow still tucked tightly between your legs. The experimental squeeze of your thighs around the pillow sends a fresh ripple of pleasure from your fading orgasm, causing you to inhale sharply. Your palms clamping over your mouth, breath more constricted than the last as a strong feeling of shame begins to surge through your veins.

The hotel room feels paralyzing, especially with Dave sleeping beside you.

The beach.

Needing some fresh air and some time to collect your irrational thoughts, away from this confined space where everything seems to be closing in on you. Hastily, you manage to pull on some warm clothes and sandals while throwing your wallet and phone in your purse without waking Dave.

You know the minute he wakes up to find you gone he’ll panic. It will take only minutes to have all his agent buddies pulling maps and running background checks on anyone who lives within a mile radius of the hotel. You’re already annoyed with his distant behavior, you don’t have it in you to deal with the added disgruntlement that will ensue.

Grabbing for the monogrammed hotel stationary, you scratch out a note to leave on this nightstand for him to find when he does wake.

Good Morning, Babe Couldn’t sleep. Went for a walk down to the beach. I have my phone. Will be back in a bit. Love you Xoxo

You two his phone screen, noting the time at the bottom— 8:00 am —a little tactic Dave had ingrained in you for matters as such, giving a starting point in the case anything were to happen to you, taking the guessing game of when out of the equation.

A New Message glows on the screen, came in sometime last night after you both got back from dinner, he must have fallen asleep before seeing it.

Double checking, you peek over the mound of blankets that is Dave’s solid body— still sleeping. The side of his face buried into his pillow and his plush lips parted. No worry lines etched across his forehead. No tension pulling at his jawline. His perfectly groomed hair, all disheveled and twisted in all directions.

Your heart blooms at how handsome he is, his truest self on full display. A running joke between you, how others would be disappointed to find out his grumpy exterior is all a show, only reserving his softer side and big heart for you.

Refocusing back to his phone, you tap the message to preview it— a message from his mom.

Mom: Did she find out? Call me when you can, we’ll talk about it then.

Did she find out? Find out what?

The beach isn’t far from the hotel. Grateful for only a few hellos and forced smiles exchanged on the shared path on the short walk.

The air is crisp the closer you get to the water, a light breeze blows over the shoreline bringing tiny bits of sand crystals through the air. You can feel the salt already crystallizing against your cheeks.

The lingering fog adds a bit of gloom to the atmosphere as you look out over the horizon in front of you. The white caps of the waves slowly roll over into the next, pushing their way through until they’ve reached the shore. The water fanning out as it moves, blanketing over the sand as it reaches where feet are planted firmly, now surrounded by the frigid sea water. Then it slowly slinks back out, leaving you numb as you wait for it to return.

Good Morning! Are you busy? No. Are you okay? Yeah, I’m fine. I just need someone to talk to. One sec!

It takes a few flicks of the small metal dial for the flame to ignite, cupping your hand around to shelter it from the light wind threatening to squash your attempt at some sort of relief.

It’s instant when it hits the back of your mouth, swirling and stinging about as it creeps up the back of your throat. That burn is all too familiar, no longer a regular occurrence, but definitely not forgotten. It takes the edge off momentarily, it always does. You imagine blowing out all your pent up anger as your release the smoke into the oceanic air.

The cigarette sits between your fingers with ease, secure against those first knuckles as you bring it back to your lips for another desperate pull. That dedicated drag of your favorite menthol smokes had once been a regular part of your daily life in your college days. Getting you through long days of studying and working late hours, barely keeping your head above the water. Pack after pack. Light, smoke, tension gone, repeat.

Eventually it was downgraded to a social practice before finally kicking the habit all together. Something Dave never pushed for, but was proud of you nonetheless.

Your phone screen illuminates and buzzes simultaneously, a picture of Jacey double fisting some beers at last year's Fourth of July party pops up. The image alone already makes you feel better.

“Mmm… Hello?” You can tell she just woke up by the way she garbles her words into the phone.

“Hey, Jacey. I didn’t wake you did I?”

“Mhmm— Kind of but it’s okay— had a bit of a late night, but it’s fine. How are things going?”

“Fine. Good. Things are good.” Trying hard to keep your voice even without giving away too much— but she knows you too well.

“I’m calling bullshit. You’re seriously the worst liar ever. Spill.”

“Ugh. Where do I even start?” You tell her, audibly groaning into the brisk pacific air.

“I’ve got some time.”

Jacey has always been this way. Available whenever you’ve needed her, at a moment's notice. Connecting with her in college, your friendship has been a steady source of support and encouragement through the years. She stood by you when you married Dave— having her now makes you feel less alone.

“Well, if it’s not one thing it’s another. There were some high hopes for sex when we got in the other night, then he passed out— which is fine ‘cause traveling and what not. But I got in my head, questioning shit about myself and our relationship. Like maybe it’s me or something. He did try to initiate the next morning but I just kind of wasn��t feeling it— so we didn’t. Plus he had phone calls he needed to make so he wasn’t worrying about them the rest of our time here.”

“Hey, it’s not you at all. Don’t ever think that. You’re a catch— Dave knows that too.” She says, her reassurance firm but delivered sincerely.

“Thank you. I mean, we kind of fooled around at the pool yesterday.”

“Ooooh!! I love this for you.”

“Well, then he ran off right before I— you know.”

“Fucking men, I swear.”

“Only to find him on the phone when he said he wouldn’t be. Then he was all jealous over this stranger I was talking to. We got back to the room, things seemed a little tense— we still went to dinner. Don’t really remember much after that, because I kept ordering dirty martinis at dinner.”

After hearing the beginning of his phone call, the shower didn’t do much to help. You didn’t want to make a scene, deciding to just leave the hurt bubbling inside of you back in the room and make the best of the rest of the night.

Dave seemed pretty much his normal self going into dinner. Conversation was lighter than it was earlier in the room. You both caught up on things that you hadn’t really talked about in a while— details about his latest assignments (within reason), your own latest work projects, random tidbits about things —things felt normal.

There was a slight shift in the evening, when he was checking his phone more often than usual. Glancing at the screen between bites of his steak then trying to figure out where you left off in the conversation.

You hadn’t even planned on drinking, but the chilled cocktail in front of Dave had been taunting you, begging to help obliterate your lingering thoughts. Then it was I’ll have another, Maybe one more, Suuuuure another sounds grreat. The dim restaurant turned into hazy fractures of light. The steady buzz of alcohol had you feel giggling and sleepy, slumping back into the velvet cushion of the intimate booth. Dave cut you off before things turned into a wild evening, shifting from your introverted self into a very lively and friendly drunk.

You don’t even remember getting back to the room, just brief glimpses of Dave undressing you and helping you into one of his shirts, then tucking you into bed.

“Hold up. Rewind— you fucking hate martinis! What the hell happened?!” She knows you so well.

“Jacey, you’re my best friend. Someone who will be straight with me no matter what. I think— Do you think Dave is cheating on me?” You ask meekly, inhaling another minty pull from your nearly finished cigarette.

“What?! Babe, why would you think Dave is cheating on you? Did something happen?”

““No— I mean yes. I think so. Fuck! I don't know what to think. We got back to the room after the pool yesterday, talked for a little bit then I went to get ready for dinner. I guess he thought I closed the door or something but I could hear him talking to someone—“ You try to keep your voice steady, finding it hard to blink the tears away as the wind whips around you.

“Okay. Well, that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s cheating on you. It could have just been more work shit he said he wasn’t going to do. Maybe he figured he could squeeze it in before dinner— not wanting to upset you.” Jacey is all about layout the facts and details before jumping down dark rabbit holes.

“Ashley— Her name is Ashley. I heard him say her name.”

There’s a beat of silence on the line before you hear her sigh.

“Oh— what else did you hear?” She says, sounding a little more somber than before.

“Nothing. My brain kind of went blank after that and I just got ready for dinner like I didn’t hear anything. Hence the abundance of martinis I drank my way through. Which also explains the slight headache I woke up with this morning.”

“Okay. So whoever he was talking to—“

“Ashley.” Details Jacey.

“Right, Ashley. We don’t really know much, aside from that. So it could be anyone. Could be work related— Ashley could be a last name too. You know how they always do that last name first thing for whatever reason.” Somehow she always finds a way to get you to back away from the cliff, especially when your feet are over the edge.

“Yeah, probably.” You say softly in agreement. A flock of birds catching your attention, their wings moving in unison as they fly overhead.

“Look, like you said before— I’m gonna be straight with you. I don’t think Dave is cheating or would ever cheat. That man loves you. Sure, he’s kind of been a little too invested in work, which is affecting things with you. I don’t think there’s someone else. I promise. But I do think you both need to talk instead of this weird dance you both are doing, that way you’re both on the same page.”

“Okay. Yeah— you’re right. Thank you, Jace. Last thing— Does it make me a bad person if I had a dream about another man last night?” You ask, feeling a bit embarrassed as you voice it out loud.

“I have those all the time— especially with that cute actor from that narcos show we love. Dreams don’t equate to real life.” She only slightly laughs at your confession.

“What if it was with a guy I met at the pool who’s staying in the hotel, who listened to me spill my life away about how I’m not sure if my husband wants kids or not now— and how marriage feels like a mess.”

“Oh! Pool guy was cute— No, I don’t think that makes you a bad person. Your thoughts are just all over the place right now. It was a dream. You’re fine. Hey, I hate to bail on you— but I’m umm, getting another call. We will chat soon, then you can give me more details about the cute pool guy. Love you!”

“Love you too, Jace. Talk soon. Bye.”

The call clicks out. Waves crashing onto the shore brings you back to the beach. Your cheeks cold and feet stinging as the water recedes again.

It's nearing 10 am now, deciding to head back before Dave does in fact worry that you’ve been gone for too long. You snuff out the smoldering cigarette in the wet sand and stick it in your bag to dispose of later. The added nicotine now mingles poorly with your lingering hangover, body in desperate need of water and a strong pain reliever.

On your way back to the hotel, you take every bit of what Jacey said and truly let it sink in, even as hard as it is to not let your mind wander into dark territory. She’s right though, it doesn’t do you any good to dwell on situational events if you have zero proof of anything. That doesn’t mean that you’ve written off your uneasiness completely, just simply tucking it away for the time being.

The sweet bellmen welcomes you back with a friendly smile and a wave as he holds the door open for your return. The lobby now bustles with more guests than earlier. Some checking in for their stay, others enjoying the picturesque ambience of the hotel.

In the time that it takes to get up to your room, you’ve run through several different scenarios in your head. All feeling immensely overwhelming at the thought of talking with Dave about how you’ve been feeling since he hasn’t seemed to pick up on the subtle inklings that there’s been a definite shift in your relationship the past few months. You’re not really sure you even want to have the conversation now, let alone here— not wanting to ruin the rest of the vacation in the chance things don’t go as smoothly as you want. You ultimately decide to wait, once you’ve settled back in at home, finally address everything with him.

You can hear Dave’s voice muffled outside the door of your room as you search for your key card in your bag, sounding as if he’s talking to someone on the phone.

The room is bright as you enter, the curtains pulled open allowing the sun to shine through the large windows. The bed is somewhat made with the pillows stacked neatly and sheets straightened in an orderly Dave manner.

Food had already been ordered and delivered, set out on the small table on the balcony. Your favorite breakfast of eggs benedict and toast along with a fresh pot of coffee. Dave’s usual eggs and bacon sit untouched, waiting for your return to enjoy breakfast together.

Dave’s standing in front of the window, looking out at the scenery with his phone to his ear, but the sound of you entering the room has him turning towards you.

His hair is freshly washed, combed up and out of his face. Wearing his favorite blue jeans snug around his hips, a white patterned shirt just barely buttoned to reveal enough of his slightly burnt chest to make your mouth water. It’s his beaming smile, arguably his best accessory, that makes your chest flutter, drawing you in closer to where he’s standing.

“It’s my mother.” He whispers, covering the phone with his hand as she continues to talk into his ear.

Did she find out? Call me when you can, we’ll talk about it then. Still wondering what her vague text message meant.

“Yeah, Mom. She just walked through the door.” You hear her mention your name through the speaker. “My mom says hi.”

“Hi, Carol.” You say sweetly, kissing Dave’s cheek before turning to place your bag on the ground near the dresser, leaning back on the wall, watching Dave as he finishes the rest of the conversation.

“Okay, sounds good…Tell dad hello for us and we’ll talk to you later… Love you, too… bye.” The screen of his phone goes black and he tosses it over to the bed.

Grabbing a glass and some small pills resting on the dresser, closing the short distance to where you’re standing and holding the water and pain reliever out to you.

“I figured your head is probably killing you this morning.” Dave says smiling at you, no sign of annoyance in his face.

“Thanks— Sorry about last night. I don’t know what got into me.” Tossing back the pills back, gulping the water down quickly, your focus on the remaining drops of water sliding down the side of the glass, pooling together at the bottom.

Dave takes the glass from you, setting it over on the top of the dresser. One of his hands settles on your hip as the other tilts your chin up so your gaze is now directed at him.

“Did you have a good walk?” Dave asks. One of his warm hands now cupping the side of your neck, surely he can feel the way your pulse is quickening, elevated just by a simple touch from him.

“Yeah. It was nice— foggy, but beautiful. We should go again before we leave.” Your hands migrate to his shirt, fingers absentmindedly toying with the top abandoned buttons and soft silky fabric.

“Umm— I can smell the smoke on you. It’s fine, I don’t mind that you were— but is everything okay?” He knows, senses something is off, because he knows you don’t just smoke to smoke these days. Senses there’s something that triggered your need for your old vice, something to dull out whatever is silently bothering you.

Yet somehow you have almost forgotten about the cigarette until now when he asks. Feeling a bit of shame for the second time again this morning, though you don’t pick up on any sort of judgment when he does ask about it.

“Everything is fine. Just sounded good so I bought them on my way to the beach— don’t think I’ll even finish the pack though. I’m good.” Liar. You hate the way Dave winces at your answer. He knows there’s something simmering below the surface, but he doesn’t push for more.

“Okay— okay. There’s breakfast here and I was thinking afterwards we could go to some shops or something. I made reservations for tonight at 6, I thought you might want to find something new to wear. Maybe we can grab some lunch near the beach too.” He tells you, brushing off the small specks of sand cemented to your face.

You find yourself on the brink of tears, swallowing the little lump that started to form in your throat. Certain the next few days would be filled with worriment and noiseless vexation. There’s almost relief in hearing how he’s planned out the day, something he hasn’t done in months. Work and meetings always at the forefront of his planning lately, leaving little to no time for dinners or regular weekend getaways.

“Or we can stay in if you want.” His head tilts a little, brown eyes scanning over every detail of your face as you mull over his plans a little longer than he expected.

“No, that sounds nice. I brought some dresses that I can wear though, we don’t have to buy anything.” You shake your head in response. Pushing a few loose strands that had fallen out of place, his eyes closing at the sensation of your fingers combing through his hair.

“We can just look, and if you find something you like we can get it.” Dave suggests— a nice middle ground.

He leans in, his nose knocking against yours, humming as you continue to play with his hair.

“Okay.” You breathe out, his intense eye contact starting to ignite something within you.

“You’re sure everything’s okay?” Offering you another opportunity to bare it all out for him.

His lips graze over yours when he asks, just enough to have you wanting more.

“Yeah. Everything is fine— promise.”

“Alright. Let’s get some food in you and then we can get ready to head out. And there’s coffee—” His thought abandoned, his lips crashing into yours in a passionate kiss.

You eagerly respond, wrapping your arms around his neck as he presses you further into the wall. Your head swirling with want, thrilled at the fact that he’s so keen to give you exactly what you’ve been craving. The scent of his cologne mixed with the musky smell of him fills your senses, making you weak for him even more.

His tongue explores your mouth, tangled together in a heated dance as your bodies grind against each other, arousal growing with each passing moment.

His hands roam freely over your body, stopping at your hips to pull you in even closer has you gasping into his mouth.

“Fuck— Dave!”

“Yeah— that feel good, Baby?” Dave’s hard almost instantly, pressing against you as you slowly grind on him. You're scorching from the friction of your bodies, the coil already winding in your lower abdomen, shivers tingling up your spine.

“Yes!! Oh god, yes!! So good, Dave!” You cry out. The heat between you unbearable, the need for release is all consuming—- more more more.

Dave’s lips fuse to yours again, dragging one hand down between your bodies. He slips under the waistband of your leggings, deft fingers finding the damp fabric of your panties, a sticky mess because of him. He’s enlivened by the way your body writhes as a result of his touch. Fingers circling over your clit in a deliberate frenzied manner, causing you to release a breathy moan into his mouth.

“You think you can come right here? I’m not gonna last much longer.” He says breaking the kiss. His eyes are filled with a burning desire as he looks at you. You nod, encouraging him to continue his ministrations, before he’s capturing your lips again.

You whine at the loss of his fingers moving over your aching bundle of nerves, your body in dire need of his touch now that he’s giving you all of it.

Dave’s hands slip under your top, fingers trailing over your pebbled skin as he pulls it up and over your head. You help him, tossing it aside, leaving you in only your lace bra and bottoms as you lean back against the coolness of the wall, chest heaving with need.

“More— pl-please, I’m almost there. ohfuckyesyesyes!.” His hands explore your body, memorizing every curve and dip with a new surge of want and urgency, his fingers trailing down your back to grip your ass and pulling you closer— sparks of pleasure blazing through you nearing a fiery release.

‘I know baby, I’ve got you’ murmured against your neck, his words riddled with assurance as he sucks on the sensitive skin there.

Your hands grip his shoulders as he continues to explore you with his mouth, caressing every inch of you as he makes his way down to your chest, pulling the fabric of your bra down, his fingers gliding over the tight skin. He cups the weight of your breast in his hand, taking one of your hardened nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it, teeth gently nipping as you moan louder and louder, while his other hand fondles and twists at your other side.

“Oh fuck! Baby, I’m gonna come—“ You gasp, arching your back, your nails digging into Dave’s shoulders has him clamping down harder on your overly sensitive nipple. The pleasing painful sting shoots straight to your core, your velvet walls pulsating, your climax within reach.

A pleasurable ache builds for the second time this morning, except this time it’s because of Dave. All your pent up emotions forging together, building into the most magnificent wave of arousal you’ve felt in a long time.

You pull his face up to meet yours, lips messily crashing against his in another bliss driven kiss. His hard cock straining behind the tightness of his jeans, tilting your cunt at the perfect angle while hoping Dave is reaping the benefits of your euphoric pursuit as you grind down on the rough seam of his denim that helps careen you over the edge.

It’s like a dream— except it's not, it’s better. Real and satiating. Your orgasm is forceful as it rips through you, taking every bit of residual tension along with it.

Dave’s movements become faster and more charged. His hips moving in a stuttering pattern— fuckfuckfuck —then stilling as a deep groan barrels through his chest. You wrap a leg around him as he collapses into you, his face nestled in the crook of your neck, holding him tightly to your body.

A breeze blows through the open balcony door, diffusing the layer of sexual haze wafting through the room. The air is welcoming, enveloping your bodies in the crispness that comes with being in close proximity to the Pacific.

It feels lighter. Less suffocating— even with the weight of your husband holding you against the wall. The low lying fog no longer a dense cloud looming over you, allowing the brightness to fully shine through.

The turbulent thoughts have settled, replaced with a mildness that seems more manageable for the time being. Your headache becomes a subsiding dullness, overpowered by the replenishment of a compelling desire.

“Shit— I came in my fucking pants like a goddamn teenager. Couldn’t even make it to the bed.” He says, post sexual vibrato etched into his voice, pressing a soft kiss to your collarbone as he lifts himself up to his full height.

Dave’s skin is glowing, a sheen of sweat glistening in the morning light. His cheeks flushed with a tinge of pink, the muscles in his neck flexing as he worked to control his breathing. The silkiness of his shirt now damp and stuck to his chest.

“Hmm. I feel too good to even care. You have no idea how bad I needed that.” You smile at him, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth, brushing a few fallen strands of hair away from his face.

The corner of his eyes crinkle. He’s beaming, infatuated with you as he leans in, resting his forehead on yours and whispers, “Do you have any idea how much I love you?.”

“Love you too, Dave.”

#Dave York #dave york x reader #Dave York x you #dave york x female reader #dave york x f!reader #pedro pascal #wildemaven writes #pedrostories

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ghouljams · 7 months

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(The Day After)Halloween on the Farm (Ghost's Version) Rating: T, there's vague nudity and mentioned sex Word Count: <1k Tags: This is all fluff folks, short and sweet, Ghost x f!OC/reader, very and I mean very minor descriptions of reader, reader has a scar Summary: You spent all night last night policing other people's fun, now you can spend time relaxing in Ghost's company. If he'd come back to bed, that is.

The sheets fall off of you, the sun streaming over your stomach and creeping towards your eyes as it rises. You wake up just enough to toss an arm over your eyes. It takes you a moment of drifting for the scratching of pencil on paper to reach you. It's the only noise in the silence of the room until you groan and go to grab your blanket.

"Don't move," Simon tells you quietly. You smile to yourself and let out a breath, sinking back into the bed.

"When did you get up?" You ask, settling in to listen to him draw. The soft drag of graphite is lulling, gentle and familiar. Simon is quiet for a long time as he works but you're patient, and you're not going anywhere.

"Hour ago," he says when his pencil stills, his fingers rub against the paper, "maybe."

You stretch a little, arch your back and twist your hips in the quiet. As long as he isn't sketching you can move, and you're quick to settle back into position. It's an attention you'll never get used to. The way you can feel his eyes drag over you, studying you with an open affection, makes you feel more beautiful than anyone ever has. He's not one to show off, but the few times you've seen his sketches they were amazing. His attention to detail is meticulous, every shadow shaping forms and adding softness, weight, to his sketches.

You wait for him to start sketching again. Each short scratch a new shadow that is rubbed soft by his fingers. You could almost doze like this. The soft light of the morning and the warmth of the house threaten to drag you back towards slumber. It's so warm in here, no wonder you barely notice the loss of your blankets. Simon must have turned up the heat after you fell asleep, easier than putting clothes on after sex you suppose. He stops sketching and you seize the opportunity.

"Can I see?" You chance the ask, he grunts and you hear the drag of his eraser.

"Sure." Your heart feels like it's going to burst. You move your arm from your eyes to check its OK to move and catch Simon staring at you. He really must have just woken up, his hair sticks in different directions, and he’s only wearing sweats. He's pulled one of the kitchen chairs to sit next to the bed, his shoulders hunched over his sketchbook. The pencil in his hands looks so small. He raises a brow, and that's good enough for you. He holds the book out to you as you push yourself up, and waits for you to take it from him.

When you do you have to stop from pressing your fingers against the paper, you can't trace the lines of graphite as desperately as you want to. You don't want to ruin his art, but you can't believe what you're seeing is really you. You're not insecure by any stretch of the word, but the way he draws you… "Am I really this pretty?" You breathe, eyes touching on the dip of your waist, the swell of your breasts, the soft part of your lips, the scar along your stomach so adoringly detailed.

Simon hums, and you glance at him. He’s staring at you, watching you inspect his work. His gaze is so open it almost makes you want to praise him. You think he’d like that.

“No,” He tugs the sketchbook free of your hands and starts scratching his pencil against the page, feathering the strokes along your sketched lashes, “You’re prettier in person, haven’t gotten it right yet.”

You lean forward against your knees with a smile and rest your head on your folded arms to watch Simon work. He’s so gruff, so practical with everything, it never fails to surprise you that his hobby is so delicate. Maybe that isn’t the right word, careful? Meticulous you could buy, but that makes too much sense with Simon. No, you like delicate. It speaks to the care, the consideration in his art. You’ve watched him draw his own hands, so meticulous to trace every vein and scar, and yet looking at the finished product it’s almost appreciative.

It’s definitely appreciative when he draws you. You know that much. You can see it. His eyes dart to look at you and back down to the paper, each line struck with purpose, each glance a calculation. And again you think that for all the technical parts, it’s loving. His sketchbooks are full of you, pieces of you litter every page, every inch. He’s packed full of you, just like you’re stuffed to the brim with him.

“I love you,” You tell him. He sucks in a breath, the same way he always does, almost disbelieving.

“Love you too,” He mutters, burying himself a little further in his work.

“We should fuck when you’re done,” You mumble, closing your eyes to enjoy the warm house, the warm affection in your chest. Simon’s sketchbook snaps shut almost as quickly as the words leave your mouth. You peek up at your husband to watch him strip his pants off, and reach to push you back down against the bed.

You move with his insistent hands, and stretch out against the bed again, letting his eyes roam over you with a different sort of appreciation. He pulls your legs up around his waist as you reach for him, tugging him down to kiss him. Simon meets your lips all too eagerly, and you let out a pleased hum as you finally receive a proper good morning.

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roses-for-rosalyn · 2 months

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Cowboys

Ellie x reader

Part 1

Summary: a trip to the local saloon? With a man?!

Wc: 2.1 k (shorter ik sorry)

For the ao3 girlies

Cw: cowboy! Ellie x fem! reader, drinking, reader gets drunk, Jesse (just a little side character), mentions of domestic violence, reader has trauma!, reader has scars, lesbian touching and yearning, lots of talking

Minors DNI (fr)

Seriously there’s some descriptions of abuse here y’all I tried to keep it vague, but it’s important I promise! I am not the kind of author who gives the reader trauma for literally no reason. That being said if this isn’t your cup of tea I’ll see you in another chapter or different fic!

LINKS TO HELP PALESTINE | DAILY CLICK

You wake up with the sun. The warm light forced its way through your eyelids, refusing to be ignored. You got up and attempted to get dressed as quietly as possible. You use the reflection of a steel pan to pin your hair back.

You liked the mornings, normally you were very alone, but even with company, it was a peaceful time. Golden light filters through your windows, everything and everyone is still beginning to wake up. It’s quiet.

A face appears behind yours in the reflection of the pan.

“Mornin.” Her voice was a bit low and gravelly.

“Mornin, where are you off to today?” You finish flattening out the last little stubborn hairs and turn towards her. Her eyes were still heavy with sleep, and bruises had begun to form on her face, but with the way she carried herself, you would never know what happened last night.

“Was thinking of going to the next town over, I have a few people to talk to.” You grab your boots from the floor and sit in the same wooden chair Ellie had last night. You try not to think about how close you were or how warm she felt against your fingertips as you lace up your shoes.

“You’re lucky you have that bandana.” You stand up and grab the hem of the fabric. “You’re a bit of a mess.” You pinch her chin between your thumb and forefinger and force her to turn to the side, and for some reason she lets you. You turn her the other way, inspecting the intensity of the bruises. “These’ll be gone in a week.” You brush your finger over a particularly deep purple bruise on her jaw, she flinches a bit even at your featherlight touch. “This one maybe two.”

“Whatever you say doc,” she replies with a laugh. You let go of her chin and head towards the door.

“I have to go, but you’ll be back before dark right?” Ellie just nods and you leave, hoping that she does actually come back.

** **

Today when you’re locking up the schoolhouse you hear a different voice, “Hi there, sunshine!”

You turn around and see Jesse. You usually didn’t see him at this time of day. He walks towards you like he has something to say.

“What’re you up to today?” He asks with a charming smile on his face.

“I was just going to head home and have dinner. How about you?” You really didn’t care to hear his plans for the day, but you had to be polite.

“I was hopin’ you might accompany me to a show at Buckhorn tonight?” His eyes are hopeful, he reminded you of a little boy, he hadn’t had the same life you did. You had really hoped you wouldn’t have to deal with him asking to court you, not completely sure you could manage to say no. You didn’t have a good reason for refusing, and who knows what he would say about you if you denied him.

“Um, alright, I suppose I could go. I can’t stay too late though, I don’t like ridin’ in the dark.” You manage a smile. Jesse looks like he is just barely keeping himself from jumping up and down in celebration.

He nods, “I will make sure you get home safe and sound darlin’. Suppose we should head on over then.” You untie your horse and take her by the lead, walking beside Jesse to the saloon.

You didn’t have much to talk about, the conversation was mostly small talk. You let him ramble on about his journeys to Santa Fe, the Apaches he’s encountered, hostile cowboys, thieves. No one ever actually threatened him, just passed by, but with the way he told the stories you would think he would be covered in scars and bruises.

You finally make it to the saloon, Jesse orders you both whiskey. You down it like a shot and Jesse seems surprised, but not appalled like you would have expected. “You want another?” he asks with raised eyebrows and a laugh.

“Yes please.” You smile up at him, a little more genuine. Maybe you could have fun, with enough liquor in your system you could get along with anyone. Drunk you was charming, magnetic, bubbly, men usually tolerated that a little better. Plus the drinks were free.

The band starts playing and you pull Jesse out on the wooden dancefloor. The music pulls at your limbs. As you dance with him you feel smooth as water, the more you drink the smoother you feel. Soon enough you’re leaning into his chest, swaying to the music. The night went by in a blur. You are at the bar getting another round of drinks when you see a familiar set of eyes appear at the entrance.

She makes a beeline towards you, shouldering people out of the way as she approaches. Her eyes look angry, but all she does is brush her hand down your arm like she was making sure you were real.

“I couldn’t find you.” She says, and you swear everything and everyone else melts away as she speaks.

She was looking for you.

“I was here.” You say with a drunk smile, relieved to see her. “With Jesse.” you point over to him. She doesn’t even bother to look. You lean in towards her to whisper, “He’s pretty boring, but he gave me free drinks.” you hold up a glass of whiskey as proof, slightly swaying with the movement.

“I’m gonna take you home.” She says gently.

“That would be very nice, I’m sure Jesse wouldn’t want to take me all the way out there. Just let me go tell him.” You haven’t stopped smiling since you saw her.

“Alright,” she nods, “I’ll be waitin’ for ya by the door.”

You stumble over to him, “Jesse, I gotta head home.”

“Ok let me go get my-”

“No need, my bodyguard over there is takin’ me home.” You point to the masked cowgirl by the door. Jesse looks at you, confused.

“I’ll explain it to you another time, I promise I’m safe with him.” You pat him on the shoulder for reassurance.

“Can I at least talk to him? So I can know you’re safe.” Well at least he seemed to actually care about you, not just the concept of you.

“I don’t see why not,” you grab his hand, it’s large and rough, his palm felt like sandpaper against yours, “follow me.” You lead him towards the cowgirl. She’s standing with her arms crossed, observing the drunkards surrounding her.

“Hi,” her head snaps towards the sound of your voice, her eyes soften.

“Hello darlin’,” she runs her hand alongside your arm again. Goosebumps rise in the wake of her touch. She looks behind you at the man you’ve brought over to her. “Who’s this?”

“This is Jesse,” you pull him so he’s standing alongside you causing him to stumble a bit. You giggle. “He wanted to make sure you were gettin’ me home safe. Said he wanted to talk to you.”

Ellie reaches out her hand to shake his, “M’ Joel,” she says in a gruff voice. Jesse’s eyes widen a bit. You hadn’t heard her man voice yet, it was a little silly. “Why don’t you go wait by my horse darlin’? I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Um, alright.” You didn’t love being booted from a conversation like that, but you were starting to get tired and your feet were starting to ache.

You walked out of the saloon to Ellie’s horse. You feel light and heavy at the same time. Then you remember you brought your own horse here. Your thoughts were so jumbled.

You walk over to grab her, untying her lead after a bit of a struggle. Figuring you would pony her over to the house. You would not ride horseback drunk. Again.

By the time you get back to Ellie’s horse she’s waiting for you. She grabs the lead from your hands and helps you up onto the horse. You were going to try like hell to remember the feeling of her hands on your hips.

“Thank you good sir,” you say with a giggle. She just shakes her head and mounts the horse, grabbing your horses lead before her horse begins to trot away from the saloon towards the quiet desert.

You probably couldn’t help the way you leaned against her back, pressing your body to hers. She was so warm. Your hands wrapped nice and tight around her waist and she hadn’t said anything, hadn’t even moved. She stayed sitting right up staring straight ahead. You couldn’t bring yourself to remember why you shouldn’t be doing this. You only knew that you wanted to and that’s what mattered right now.

“Who’s Joel?” You asked, cheek pressed against her leather coat.

“He’s- he was a friend.” She can barely disguise the sorrow in her voice.

“Was he your husband or somethin’?” Questions tend to just pour out of you in this state with no regard for the person you’re asking.

“No, no he was a good friend.”

“Mm, you’re lucky you never had a husband.”

“Why?”

“Well I don’t know if all husbands are like how mine was, but I wouldn’t try it again, just in case.”

“What happened?” You let the sound of the horses hooves hitting the dirt path fill the silence for a moment. You hadn’t really told anyone what happened in your house on the edge of town, where no one could hear you or see you.

“Well, I’ll start at the beginning I suppose. My daddy got sick, real sick and he wanted me to have a man to take care of me after he was gone. So I married a man he chose for me. I didn’t know him, I barely saw him before we got married. But I wanted to make sure my daddy could die knowing I’d be taken care of, so I did it. I still regret going through with it.” You nuzzle your cheek into her back, trying to get impossibly closer. “I still don’t like to think about our wedding night.”

“I’m sorry darlin’ you don’t have to-”

“No I want to, I haven’t said anything to anyone about this before. Kinda feels nice, I feel lighter. Anyways, we moved into that tiny house. It didn’t take long for him to get mean, real mean. Since we lived so far away, no one could hear the screamin’ and yellin’. I still have some scars from that him, that’s why I had that medical kit for you when you got hurt. I’ve had to clean myself up more times than I’d like to admit.” You let out an empty laugh.

“Where is he now?” Ellie’s voice has an anger in it that was terrifying, the type that was calm and sure. She knew exactly how she would remedy it.

“Well, every time he would hurt me I would threaten to shoot ‘em. He would laugh in my face like I had told some sort of fucked up joke. Here let me show you somethin’.” You hike up your dress, exposing the large scar on your thigh. You grab Ellie’s hand from the reins and place it on the Scar, her fingertips run gently across it, like she would hurt you if she pressed too hard. She traces around the jagged raised skin, it was like she was trying to put a picture of it together in her head. “The night he did that I shot him right in the chest. He was an evil, evil man. No one missed him. He’s buried about 500 feet from the house, his grave is unmarked.”

You feel Ellie’s body relax a bit. “That’s good. You did good.” She’s still absentmindedly running her hand along your thigh. The feeling made your breath hitch. Your whole body grows hot. You hadn’t ever felt anything like that. “He deserved it, I hope you know that.”

“Still doesn’t feel good though, didn’t make me feel any better when he was dead. The only thing that changed was that I was safe again.” You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding when her hand slowly leaves your thigh, pulling your dress back down for you.

“Yeah, I suppose that makes sense. Sometimes it feels like the only solution though.”

“Yeah it does.”

** **

You’re half asleep by the time the horse stops in front of your house. You barely manage to lift your head up, but somehow you get off the horse.

“Go on inside, I’ll get the horses settled.” She didn’t have to tell you twice.

You were halfway to the house when you remembered, “Ellie,”

“Yes?”

“Come and sleep inside tonight.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Taglist: @elliewilliamgfooc @bready101 @sakiigami @wishbones999 @a-little-bit-of-everybody @ellabssweetheart @lily-fics-11

If ur name is crossed out it wouldn’t let me tag u

Lmk what yall think! Notes, comments and reposts always appreciated! Thank you for all the support!

#ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x female reader #ellie x you #cowboy!ellie #western! au #cowboy!au #cowboys #cowgirl #the last of us 2

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starzshopoflove · 9 months

Text

Simon "ghost" Riley x Reader

Notes: fem reader! i hc ghost doesn't wear a mask when he's off duty, this is just whatever rot my mouse brain creates, age gap but not to crazy, sfw mostly ,size kink if you squint, literally just me projecting onto reader sorry

no thoughts just ghost meeting cute little civvie reader in a shop when he's just trying to get his shopping done after coming back from a mission just wanting to fill his fridge with enough beer and groceries that vaguely resemble food

Simon watching you struggle to reach the flour from a set high shelf in the aisle, grumbling to yourself about "who fucking needs flour anyway" still trying to reach it and he just pluck it off the shelf and drops it in your cart before making his way to another aisle and your just left looking stupid watching this giant trudge away with a little blue tesco basket in tow

Simon who notices you at the same book shop he frequents, but your perched behind the counter doing god knows what ( vaguely resembles inventory but hey do what you will) calculator in hand as he peeks from behind a bookshelf trying to remember where he's seen you before.

Civvie reader who passes her days working quietly in a book shop and living in a simple one room flat indulging her romantic needs in fiction too nervous to actually talk to men, fictional ones satisfying her needs better. That is until you see some books on the counter sliding over to scan them.

"Your total's 23.55" you mumble looking at the screen "Cash or Card?" you add before lifting your head to meet the brick wall of a muscle man. Oh OH, no thoughts as you just stare at his pecs in your line of sight thanking whatever god you believe in for the sight before you, better then anything your little brain could muster up even with the detailed descriptions authors would spit out onto the pages you read

You violently peel your eyes away from the most beautiful pair of man tits you've ever seen to see what man was the owner, and by god do you wish you werent so bad around men. I mean the wind practically got knocked out of your lungs as you let out a barely audible squeak watching this man fish in his pockets for his wallet

Messy blonde hair that was in that weird phase of curly but not really, a nose that looks like its seen a good fight, deep set brown eyes, and a few healed scars settled on the skin. Aged but like wine, a really really fine wine

"Right, cash" His hands fiddling through the wallet to pull out the bank notes, while you prayed you didnt look like a hunger dog staring at his hands as they placed the cash on the counter.

Simon who watches the little bookshop employee look like she just got punched in the gut and was trying not groan as she quickly rang him up, Do i smell? he thinks to himself

Simon who watches your smaller hands shuffle the cash into the register, noting how they're free of calluses, nailed neat and slightly grown, soft.

Simon who leaves the bookstore thinking of a excuse to go again tomorrow, not to see the bookshop girl or anything, he has his reasons!! he just hasn't thought of it yet!!

You start looking up from your notes for your class when the shop bell jingles hoping to see the mystery man whos built exactly like your favorite webcomic character but with the gruff and mature aura of that mc from the game your friend made you play that you cant quite remember. Only disappointed when its just another customer , until later in the day the man returns again.

But its much later in the day and you've switched on the shops warm lights, turning off the ac letting the place warm up as you hear the door jingle again, mystery man making his way to the counter your eyes following his every step, meaty thighs

You who perks up when his forearms settle at the counter suddenly eyes locking onto yours and suddenly very glad you tidied up a bit today, tinted chapstick, perfume, cleaner turtle neck, lashes, lipgloss, earrings ahm

"Tesco" he grumbles out unmoving

"what" well thats not what you were expecting to hear

"You were the girl , couldnt reach the flour yeah?" oh that was him

"Oh, that was you? thank you?" oh what the fuck were you supposed to say?? oh thank you freakishly tall man who watched me struggle?? let me take your whole cock in my mouth while you call me a good pet feeding your meaty length down my throat??

"Yeah" Simon didnt think to much on what to do now, gaze getting awkward now that hes got his confirmation

"Did you need anything" you finally broke the silence, god its fuckin tense in here and hes so close, you wanna just get a sniff but thats hardly workplace behavior doesn't matter if its your dads shop or not.

"Mhm, ye got any cook books?"

"yeah, section 12, shelf 9" whos he cooking for? his wife? i dont see a ring? maybe a long time girlfriend?? who wouldnt snatch up this actual beefcake

"Thanks, tryna cook something new for myself. Flats been quiet" He mumbled like speaking too much would give him a headache

SImon purchased his books same stare at the girls hand like last time as she took his money. God do something you look like a creep staring at this poor girls hands.

"Got a notepad luv?" again that same punched face returned, is she alright? he thought to himself

Oh he just called me luv oh fuck dont wheeze dont wheeze just hand him the pen and paper like a good employee, come on. Oh god dont stare at his arms, are those tattoos oh my god

Sliding back the notepad simon made pace of grabbing his cook book a slipping out the shop just as quick as he went in

You who looked at the notepad almost slipping back out of your chair

"Simon 44 xxx xxx xxx"

Children were singing, the angels sang their songs, the trees regrew in that parking lot down the street, healthcare in america was just made free, and you just got the phone number of a man built like a double door fridge that you have every intention of climbing

#cod mw2 #simon riley x reader #simon riley #cod mw x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost cod #ghost x reader #mw2022 #ghost call of duty #sorry i just love civilian reader x ghost #reader def has a tumblr acc #reader most likely survived middle school with a undertale phase #reader is literally just as fictional man hungry as us

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idyllicwillowtree · 3 months

Text

God Eddie, You're So In Love With Me. (part 2)

Genre: Eddie Munson x Henderson!reader, fem!reader, angst/fluff, hurt/eventual comfort, friends to lovers

Summary: Being in Hellfire, you’ve been exposed to your fair share of bullying. One day, Jason takes it a step too far.

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: bullying, anaphylaxis, poisoning, no physical descriptions of Y/N so you don’t have to look like Dustin, reader uses she/her, reader has a peanut allergy, swearing, angy Eddie, hospital

Author’s note: Thank you so much for the positive comments on part 1! I was feeling insecure about this fic so that was very nice y'all are so sweet <3

Enjoy!

Main Masterlist

Part 1

Eddie looked to you, hoping to see you looking up at him and smiling that way you do whenever he uses his renaissance voice. Instead he met your panicked eyes.

“Hey Henderson,” Jason called from across the cafeteria. “What happens now? Should we call an ambulance?” Andy shoved at his shoulder playfully and chortled alongside Jason.

Panic gripped you as you connected the dots.

“Yeah,” you wheezed, “call an ambulance.”

All the Hellfire members whipped their heads toward you, witnessing an angry rash spreading across your skin and your breathing becoming audible as you tried to suck in as much oxygen as possible.

Eddie’s heart clenched painfully as he looked down at you, remembering the severity of your allergy after Dustin explained it to him one time. Still, Eddie was taken aback by the speed at which your symptoms were progressing.

You reached a hand out to Eddie as the choked coughs took over. He ignored your hand in favor of catching your body before it hit the ground. With trembling limbs he carefully lowered you to the grimy tile of the cafeteria floor.

“Fuck,” Eddie cursed, “Dustin! What do we do?!”

Dustin had froze. Panic set in as he watched his older sister struggle more and more to take in a full breath. A small crowd began to gather and the excited chatter of the cafeteria simmered into hushed whispers and gasps. Everyone was watching, and not in the way Eddie was used to.

“Henderson!” Eddie snapped.

At that, Dustin went to work. “Mike, go call 911! Lucus, see if the nurse has an epipen. GO!” The sheep dispersed. Dustin picked up your bag with trembling hands and began digging through your books and school supplies, searching for the epinephrine injector he swears you kept in there.

Eddie turned his attention back to you, trusting that Dustin had the rest handled. At the look of panic in your blotchy and swollen face he almost froze too. A chilling dread spread through his veins as you began clawing at your throat, doing everything you could to open your airways.

“Hey, hey, hey, look at me princess. You’re gonna be alright, gonna be just fine, you hear me? D-Dustin will getchu your meds and you’ll be good to go,” Eddie rambled, trying to convince himself just as much. He gently cradled your warm face and stroked your hair to try and soothe you.

With every second passing you became closer and closer to death. Eddie looked up in desperation. His red-headed neighbor (Max, he thinks her name is) snatched the backpack out of a distraught Dustin’s hands and turned it upside down, emptying its contents. Robin was there too and put a comforting arm around your brother while Max took over the search for the injector. Eddie was vaguely aware of a teacher trying to pry him off of you but he’d risk getting expelled for shoving a teacher if it meant staying by your side.

“Got it!” Max exclaimed, holding the orange and clear tube triumphantly. She slid to her knees on your otherside, not hesitating to jam the needle into your leg and holding it there.

Eddie flinched at the force it took to inject you. You took your first full breath, allowing him to take one as well. Your eyes were drooping slightly as the medicine was introduced into your system.

“Hey, there she is,” Eddie said gently.

Your tired eyes met his and he could’ve sworn the corners of your lips twitched upwards.

The paramedics arrived and Eddie hesitantly let you go so they could treat you. It was a blur of navy blue and red as they hooked you up to numerous tubes and slid an oxygen mask over your head.

You became slightly more alert at the sight of strangers surrounding you as the stretcher clicked into place, raising you a couple feet off the ground. You moved your head tiredly trying to catch sight of anyone you knew. Anyone to comfort you.

“Dustin, go with her,” Eddie told the curly haired boy. He looked up at him with wet eyes that clenched at Eddie’s heart. “She needs you, go on.”

Eddie watched the determination emerge on the freshman’s face as he walked through the paramedics declaring that he was your brother, allowing him to be by your side.

Swallowing thickly past the dryness in his mouth, Eddie watched you get rolled out on the stretcher.

He turned numbly to see that Lucas and Mike had returned and started digging through your lunch, in an attempt to find out what it was that could’ve caused your reaction. As the two predictably began to bicker, Eddie grabbed the cup of applesauce and slowly brought the spoon out. To his horror, he scooped out a few small round nuts mixed with the smooth texture of the applesauce.

His darkened eyes snapped up, immediately finding Jason. He at least had the decency to look scared, his skin white as a sheet. True terror shining through as he came to realize the severity of what he did. He shook his head slightly, pleading with Eddie. For what, he wasn’t sure. But he could give a shit.

The grip on the applesauce tightened, causing it to tremble, before he launched it in Jason's general direction. A fire of rage lit up Eddie's entire being, consuming any reason or restraint within him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?! You could’ve killed her!!” Eddie roared, the words ripping from his throat like a thunderclap. Every fiber in his being screamed for justice, determined to ensure that no harm would ever come to you again.

“I-I-I didn’t think…I didn’t mean to-” Jason blubbered.

“Not good enough!” Eddie snapped. He charged forward, driven by the need to avenge your pain. Just when he was closing the distance between them a thick arm wrapped around his upper body. “LET ME GO!”

Eddie struggled against the firm grip that held him back from doing to Jason what he should've done a long time ago. If Eddie was strong enough, he could've saved you, stopped all of this bullying in its tracks before Jason had ever even looked in your direction. His strength never came from muscles or brute force, but from his anger—the primal need to protect those he loved. He was so consumed by his rage that a red haze blurred his vision. Or were those his tears?

“Eddie, man, don’t do this,” Doug said, doing his best to calm his friend.

“Please,” Eddie pleaded, losing some of his fight. “Just let me go.”

“Dude, if you get into a fight you won’t be able to see Y/N in the hospital,” the bassist whispered in Eddie’s ear. He looked over and saw Principle Coleman closing in on them, there wasn’t much time left. “We can handle it, just go while you can.”

A wave of overwhelming frustration washed over Eddie as the struggle against Doug’s hold diminished. Tears welled up in his eyes as his chest released his rage and tightened back up with helplessness and despair.

He didn’t let it consume him though, taking off in the opposite direction of the principle, his sheep following close behind.

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

When the van ripped into the hospital parking lot, Eddie finally took notice of how many stowaways he had. Lucas, Mike, Max, Robin, and even Nancy all burst through the double doors at the back of his skunky smelling van and made their way to the emergency room entrance.

Eddie was the first one through the doors, eyes scanning the waiting area for his curly haired friend. What he wasn’t expecting to see was the one and only King Steve sitting with the boy.

Steve noticed them first, taking the lead on letting them know what’s going on. He explained that you’d be fine but the doctors are running some tests and getting you hooked up to the necessary machines. It’ll be a little longer before Eddie gets to see you with his own eyes.

Eddie turned on his heel and walked through the doors he just came through as Steve explained that your mom was called but was on a trip with her girlfriends and won’t be able to make it back until tomorrow.

The disinfected smell of the hospital only offered to heighten Eddie’s desire for a cigarette. He finds solace in the only coping mechanism he has under his belt, even if he knew it was bad for him in the long run. The stress of the day weighed heavily on him as he leaned on the brick wall of the hospital outside. The familiar routine of lighting up offered a good distraction, the only way to momentarily ease his anxiety.

That was until your brother found him. He silently stood next to him, not feeling the need to fill the silence with anything but the gentle breeze and the birds chirping in the distance. But it made Eddie feel uneasy.

“I’d offer you a smoke, but I don’t want to corrupt you more than I already have,” Eddie said with a sad laugh.

Ignoring Eddie’s comment, Dustin asked, “you remember that one time when Hellfire came over to my house for a session? When the theater kids needed the drama room at school?”

Eddie nodded his head slowly, releasing the smoke from his lungs as he did so.

“I was still in middle school so I had only heard about you from Y/N. She had this weird way of speaking about you. It was in a way I had never heard her speak about anyone before.”

Eddie’s heart punched against his ribs painfully, his insecurities taking over.

“She was nice enough to let me watch your campaign so I could get ideas for the campaign I was doing with Mike and Lucas, and our other friend Will. I think she regretted it because of the Reese's Pieces incident.”

Eddie couldn’t help but start chuckling embarrassingly at the memory. “God, that was so stupid,” he smacked his forehead in an attempt to stop his mind from reliving one of the most embarrassing moments of his life.

The Hellfire members flooded into your home, bringing chips, candy, and drinks to share. Your first time hosting the club was going great, until Dustin noticed the bag of Reese’s Pieces in Eddie’s hand.

“My sister is too nice to say anything but-” Dustin started.

“Stop, Dustin-”

“-we can’t have those in the house.”

Eddie’s eyebrows pinched beneath his bangs, “what? Why not?”

“She’s allergic to peanuts.”

Before you could roll your eyes at your little brother and reassure him it was fine, Eddie turned and chucked the bag out your kitchen’s open window leaving you standing there in shock and Eddie horrified by his own impulse.

“I think that’s when she fell in love with you.”

Eddie’s head whipped over to Dustin. The kid had the audacity to look smug after completely shattering his world view. His mind spun with the revelation.

Love, a word so potent, was now intertwined with his thoughts of your relationship. Eddie knew he liked you, a lot, but his brain never brought him to love. He replayed moments from your friendship in his head, searching for the signs, trying to decipher if Dustin was telling the truth. If the sentiment was truly real. A mix of surprise and uncertainty overwhelmed him, but there was also something warm and hopeful there. It was both exhilarating and terrifying.

He needed to see you and hear it from you directly. A million thoughts and memories raced through his mind, but one thing was clear–he needed to be with you, to tell you how he felt.

part 3 coming soon!

tags: @beeblisss @fishwithtitz @leah-loves-lilies

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familyabolisher · 11 months

Note

hi if u don’t mind me asking, could u please elaborate on your thoughts on the critique of contemporary anti-intellectualism (specifically on social media)? i’m legitimately curious and enjoy a lot of ur analysis and commentary i mean this in good faith :)

Broadly speaking, the philosophical concept of anti-intellectualism tends to critically describe the ideological + rhetorical relegation of intellectual production to an elitist practice fundamentally at odds with the interests of the layman; and, crucially, the treatment of these categories as fixities. I disagree with the propositions of that philosophical discourse as well, but that’s not always the form that the discourse takes on this website. On here, ‘anti-intellectualism’ is more of a vague catch-all used to describe anything from people who express frustration with the literary canon & mainstream schooling in ways that don’t coddle the sensibilities of people with literature degrees to people who come out with outright fascistic views on provocative art; it attempts to corral what are in fact very disparate positions and perspectives under the umbrella of insufficient ‘intellect,’ often shorthanded to ‘reading comprehension’ or ‘media literacy’ (or ‘[in]curiosity,’ a new favourite) without any materialist investigation into what we mean when we talk about intellect and literacy and a lack thereof or whether this is a politically expedient description of the dynamic[s] in question.

When I say materialism, I mean it in the Marxist sense, ie. as a counter to idealism—because what’s being described here is a fundamentally idealist (and therefore useless) position. The discourse of anti-intellectualism as it exists on this website relies on idealist propositions—people lack curiosity, they lack interest, they are ‘lazy,’ they are ‘illiterate’ where ‘illiterate’ is not a value-neutral statement about one’s relationship to a socially constituted ‘literacy’ but communicating a moral indictment, at its worst they are ‘stupid,’ ‘idiots’—these descriptors rely on an assumption of immutable internal properties rather than providing a materialist description for why things are the way that they are. These aren’t actionable descriptors; at best they’re evasive because they circumvent serious interrogation of the conditions they’re describing, at worst they’re harbingers of an inclination towards eugenicist rhetoric. The discourse casts those who are ‘illiterate’—which in this capacity means those who fail to perform conventional literacy, who lack a traditional education, who don’t demonstrate sufficient interest in classic literature—or the more unkind ‘stupid’ (which, frankly, is what people want to say when they say ‘illiterate’ or ‘incurious’ anyway, lmao) as socially disposable and places the onus of changing one’s behaviour (so as to not be cast as illiterate/incurious/stupid) on them rather than asking what conditions have produced XYZ discourse of social disposability and responding with compassion and ethical diligence; I hope I don’t have to explain why this is eugenicist.

The discourse also lacks an ability to coherently describe what is meant by the ‘intellectualism’ in question—after all, merely appealing to ‘intellectualism’ is a similarly idealist rhetorical move if you don’t have the material grounding to back it up—and indeed tends to dismiss legitimate critiques of intellectual + cultural production as ‘anti-intellectual.’ People love to talk about ‘literacy,’ but don’t like expounding on what they’re actually describing when they do so—the selection of traits and actions that come together to constitute a correct demonstration of ‘literacy’ are built on the bedrock of eg. an ability to thrive within the school system (a mechanism of social control and stratification), fluently speak the dominant language by which this ‘literacy’ is being assessed (in online spaces like Tumblr this is usually English), and engage with the ‘right’ texts in the ‘right’ ways where ‘right’ means ‘invested with legitimacy and authority by the governing body of the academy.’ Literacy is used as a metric of assimilation into hegemonic society by which immigrant and working-class children are made rhetorically disposable unless they demonstrate their ability to integrate into the hegemonic culture (linked post talks about immigrant families being rendered ‘illiterate’ as a tactic of racism in France, but the same applies to the US, UK, etc); similarly, disabled people who for whatever reason will never achieve the level of ‘literacy’ required to not have Tumblr users doing vagueposts about how you deserve a eugenicist death for watching a kids’ show are by this discourse rendered socially disposable, affirming the paradigms which already make up their experience under a social system which reifies ableism in order to sustain itself. (This includes, by the way, the genre of posts making fun of the idea that someone with ADHD could ever struggle with reading theory.) ‘Literacy’ as the ability to understand and respond to a text is difficult and dispersed according to disparate levels of social access, and a lack of what we call literacy is incredibly shameful; any movement towards liberation (and specifically liberatory pedagogy) worth its salt needs to challenge the stigma against illiteracy, but this website’s iteration of ‘anti-intellectualism’ discourse seems to only want to reaffirm it.

Similarly, the discourse dismisses out of hand efforts to give a materialist critique of the academy and the body of texts that make up the ‘canon’—I’m thinking of a post I saw literally this morning positing a hypothetical individual’s disinterest in reading canonical (“classic”) literature as an “anti-intellectual” practice which marked them as an “idiot.” (Obviously, cf. above comments re. ‘stupidity,’ ‘idiocy’ as eugenicist constructions.) People who will outright call themselves Marxists seem to get incredibly uncomfortable at the suggestion that there are individuals for whom the literary canon is not even slightly interesting and who will never in their lives engage with it or desire to engage with it, and this fact does not delegitimise their place in revolutionary thinking and organising (frankly, in many areas, it strengthens it); they seem determined to continue to defer to the canon as a signifier of authority and therefore value, rather than acknowledging its role as a marker of class and classed affects and a rubric by which civility (cf. linked post above) could be enforced. (I believe the introduction to Chris Baldick’s The Social Mission of English Criticism touches on this dimension of literary studies as a civilising mission of sorts, as well as expounding on the ways in which ‘literary studies’ as we presently understand it is a nineteenth-century phenomenon responding to the predictable nineteenth-century crises and contradictions.) People will defer to, for example, Dumas, Baldwin, Morrison, to contravene the idea that the literary canon is made up of ‘straight white men,’ without appreciating that this is a hugely condescending way to talk about their work, that this collapses three very different writers into the singular category of ‘Black canonical writer’ and thus stymies engagement with their work at any level other than that of 'Black canonical literature' (why else put Dumas and Morrison in the same sentence, unless as a cheap rhetorical ‘gotcha’? I like both but they’re completely different writers lmfao), and that this excises from the sphere of legitimacy those Black writers who don’t make it into the authorising space of the canon; and, of course, reaffirms the canon’s authenticity and dismisses out of hand the critique of loyalty to hegemony that the ‘straight white men’ aphorism rightly imposes.

The discourse operates on a unilateral scale by which the more ‘literacy’ (ie. ability to speak the language of the literati) one has, the greater their moral worth, and a lack of said ‘literacy’ indicates the inverse. This overlooks the ways in which the practice of literary criticism wholly in line with what these people would call ‘intellectualism’ has historically been wielded as a tactic of reactionary conservatism; one only has to look at the academic output of Harold Bloom for examples of this. People will often pay lipservice to the hegemony of the academy and the practices by which only certain individuals are allowed access to intellectual production (stratified along classed + racialised lines, of course), but fail to really internalise this idea in understanding that the critical practices they afford a significant degree of legitimacy are inextricable from the academy from which they emerged, and that we can and should be imagining alternative forms of pedagogy and criticism taking place away from sites which restrict access based on allegiance to capital. Part of my communism means believing in the abolition of the university; this is not an ‘anti-intellectual’ position but a straightforwardly materialist one.

A final core problem with the 'anti-intellectualism' discourse is that it's obscurantist. As I explained above, it posits the problem with eg. poor engagement with theoretical concepts, challenging art, etc., to be one of 'intellect' and 'curiosity,' idealist rather than materialist states. In practice, the reasons behind what gets cast as 'anti-intellectualism' are very disparate. Sometimes, we're talking about a situation wherein (as I explained above) someone lacks 'literacy'; sometimes we're talking about the reason for someone's refusal to engage with and interpret art with care and deference being one of bigotry (eg. racist dismissals of non-white artists' work, misogynistic devaluing of women's work, etc.); sometimes we're talking about a reactive discomfort with marginalised people communicating difficult concepts online as a 'know-your-place' response (eg. backlash against 'jargon' on here is almost always attacking posts from/about marginalised people talking about their oppression, with the attacks coming from people who have failed to properly understand that oppression; I've been called a jargonistic elitist for talking about antisemitism, I've seen similar things happen to mutuals who talk about racism and transmisogyny). All of these are incredibly different situations that require incredibly different responses; the person who doesn't care to engage with a text in a way that an English undergrad might because doing so doesn't interest them or they lack the requisite skill level is not comparable to the person who doesn't care to engage with a text because they don't respect the work of a person of colour enough to do so. Collapsing these things under the aegis of 'anti-intellectualism' lacks explanatory power and fails to provide a sufficient actionable response.

Ultimately, the discourse is made up of a lot of people who are very high on their own capabilities when it comes to literary analysis (which, as others have pointed out, seems to be the only arena where all this ever takes place, despite the conventional understanding of ‘media literacy’ referring as much to a discerning eye for propaganda and misinformation as an ability to churn out a cute little essay on Don Quixote) and have managed to find an acceptable outlet for their dislike of anyone who lacks the same, and have provided retroactive justification in the form of the claim that not only is [a specific form of] literary analysis [legible through deference to the authority of the literary canon & the scholarship of the nineteenth century and onward surrounding it] possible for everyone, it is in fact necessary in order to access the full breadth of one’s humanity such that an absence thereof reveals an individual as subhuman and thus socially disposable. A failure to be sufficiently literate is only ever a choice and a personal failing, which is how this discourse escapes accountability for the obviously bigoted presumptions upon which it rests. In this, all materialism is done away with; compassion is done away with, as it becomes possible to describe the multiplicity of reasons why someone cannot or does not demonstrate ‘literacy’ in X, Y or Z ways in the sum total of a couple of adjectives; nothing productive comes of this discourse but a reassertion of the conditions of hegemony in intellectual practice and the bolstering of the smugness of a few people at the expense of alienating everyone else.

As I’ve said countless times before, the way to counteract what we might perceive as ‘incuriosity’ or disinterest in challenging texts is to talk about these challenging texts and our approaches to them as often as we can, to make the pedagogical practices that are usually kept behind the walls of the academy as widely accessible as possible (and to adjust our pedagogy beyond the confines of ideological hegemony that the academy imposes), and to encourage a culture by which people feel empowered to share their thoughts, discuss, ask questions, and explore without being made to feel ashamed for not understanding something. The people who cry ‘anti-intellectualism’ because they saw someone on Tiktok express a disinterest in reading Jane Eyre are accomplishing none of this.

#ask

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atrueneutral · 2 months

Note

Feel free to just ignore this if the prompt is too horny but uh...

Mephistopheles having some fiends deliver a present to the boudoir (for Raphael or Haarlep). That present is a very confused, but also very naked, Tav who is all tied up with silk and has a collar and chain on her neck. (for her part, Tav isn't opposed to being in this... ah... position, but she'd have preferred Raphael or Haarlep be the one to have brought her here via invitation rather than... whatever this is)

I hope you don't mind a little humor! ---

Of all the strange situations Tav had found herself in (including the entire tadpole debacle), it was safe to say that this was the one of the strangest.

How it happened - well, frankly she’d been kidnapped!

It all started when she’d received a message from Helsik by way of a Scroll of Sending; the message wasn’t very descriptive outside of ‘please come to the Devil’s Fee at your earliest convenience’, and, thinking it was a job to add more (needed) coin to her pocket, Tav had gone immediately.

Into the Devil’s Fee she walked without a care in the world, only to have Helsik give her an empty smile and an emptier apology. Tav had no idea what the apology was for until two fiends burst forth from nowhere. They quickly rendered her immobile with a spell (before she could even think to defend herself), and she was subsequently blindfolded and spirited away.

By the time the blindfold had come off, Tav was naked.

Naked on a bed.

A bed in a boudoir.

A boudoir in a House of Hope.

Above her, a golden horned devil head was laughing at her predicament from where it was centered at the top of the velvet tufted headboard her back rested against. A lengthy piece of red silk hung fastened around its neck, and at each end were her bound hands. Her feet were in a similar state, ankles tied together by another piece of silk, and she was annoyed to feel a leather collar against the skin of her neck. Attached to the collar was a weighty chain that messily decorated the silk bedding.

It was an added frustration to see an unattainable, sealed note at the foot of the bed. She assumed it likely wrote out an explanation on why she’d been plucked and placed in Raphael’s gaudy boudoir.

For a split second, Tav thought to call out to Haarlep; the boudoir was mostly their domain, and maybe they would come and help her. But she wisened up and remembered that Haarlep’s definition of ‘helping’ was wildly different from that of a morally inclined person; she’d be inviting the incubus to tease her, grope her, and use her.

Which would be fine on a day where she’d been told in advance and had some semblance of knowing what-the-fuck-was-going-on.

It was probably in her best interest to call for Raphael, as embarrassing as the situation was. She expected he’d be equally perplexed by why she was in his House, naked, tied up, and in his bed.

“Uh, Raphael?” she called out meekly into the ether, thinking he could somehow magically hear her from wherever he was. “You, uh, around?”

After about a minute of getting nothing in response, Tav cleared her throat.

“RAPHAEL! You bastard! I’ll loot this place dry once I figure out how to untie myself!”

It took about fifteen seconds, but there was a burst of fire and embers - signifying the arrival of-

“What have we here!” trilled a voice that sounded vaguely like Raphael but assuredly wasn’t Raphael. “I thought I heard a guest yelling in the boudoir! And yelling without me?”

They tutted, and Tav inwardly cursed the gods.

“Not you…” she bemoaned.

“Now why do you say it like that, little thief?” Haarlep faked a frown as they sauntered over to the end of the bed. The frown didn’t last; it flipped into a fiendish smile when they devoured the wickedly risque picture she made. “Have you gifted yourself to us? It’s good to see some results after master’s constant planning…”

“Aha! So it’s his fault I’m here!” Tav shouted like she’d deduced the perpetrator for a murder, but as Haarlep’s words further registered, the perpetrator suddenly looked like Raphael and the person murdered was her. “Wait - what do you mean ‘constant planning’?”

Haarlep continued to smile with mischief dancing brightly in their infernal eyes. They scooped up the note and slid a clawed finger under the folded flap, breaking the wax seal. Their gaze shifted from Tav to the words on the parchment.

The incubus grimaced. “And here I hoped you’d already signed yourself away to us.”

“Not today, I’m afraid,” Tav said. She awkwardly readjusted in her bindings. “What does it say? Who is it from?”

To her horror, Haarlep decided to join her on the bed with the note in hand. They crawled over, mattress dipping with each knee they took, and they situated themself over her so that their legs braced either side of her thighs - giving Tav a bird’s eye view of their barely clothed erection.

Haarlep (thankfully) shoved the note in front of her face rather than their crotch.

”I can’t read it,” she said dryly.

“Poor thing.”

To help, Haarlep read it out loud.

“Haarlep,

This mortal is a much better distraction to my son’s ambitions than you.

I suggest tempting her into a contract with your persuasive talents.

Lord Mephistopheles”

Tav swallowed. “This is a joke, right?”

Haarlep folded the letter and tossed it aside on the sheets. The back of their fingers came to caress her cheek. “Mm - no, little thief. It’s very real, as are you… here, tied up… helpless…”

“While that may be true…” Tav was beginning to feel nervous, and she resisted the urge to wriggle underneath them lest it provoke them. “Unfortunately, this situation isn’t as much of a turn on as it would be if I was here of my own volition.”

“It’s a turn on for me regardless.”

“Sure…” Tav officially hated the gods. She did not know how she was going to talk herself out of this with an incubus who was hovering over her restrained body with a hard-on, a lust-filled gaze, and an order to get her to ‘sign a contract’. She lowered her voice to a throaty whisper. “But you know what really gets me wet and wild, Haarlep?”

“Do tell…”

She raised herself up an inch by pulling on her bindings and stared at them with budding (pretend) lust.

“Not signing a contract.”

Was that jingling bells she heard entering the boudoir?

“Do you not want to stay here with me?” Haarlep purred, their hand trailed down to grip her chin while the other found and her collar’s chain. “You’d get to be master’s pet - my pet…”

They tugged up on the chain and Haarlep’s head moved in for the kill - intent on giving her an intoxicating kiss that would turn her to putty in their hands.

Shit.

“Ra-” Tav attempted to shout, but the cambion’s name was cut short by Haarlep’s smiling lips pressing against hers. The chain was given a light tug to force her closer, and their hot, forked tongue slid across the seam of her locked mouth…

She did not know how long she could hold out; her lips were tingling in a pleasant way, her blood was racing, and the promise of pleasure was right there if only she would give in…

The lust she felt was no longer the pretend kind.

“Haarlep, pray tell, who is your wayward plaything?”

Tav mentally and woozily cheered; it was Raphael!

“Was my warning not explicit enough? I will not tolerate you inviting in stray visitors because you’re bored,” continued her maybe savior.

Tav could not see Raphael, as she was too busy being lip locked with a younger version of himself, and she wasn’t sure if he could see her with Haarlep’s wings and body in the way.

The chain went slack as Haarlep broke away. They relinquished their hold on her leash and discreetly swapped the chain for the nearby note. Between their bodies, the piece of parchment combusted into flames - destroying the proof of Mephistophele’s intentions.

Tav hissed as the melted seal dripped hot wax onto her chest.

Haarlep winked at her, and she responded with a glare.

Meanwhile, jingling boots arrived somewhere around the foot of the bed.

“Look who is here, Master!” The incubus said suddenly, removing themself from her body and moving over enough to reveal Tav in all her naked, restrained glory. “I wrapped her up like a little present! Just for you - specifically as she instructed…”

Heat crept up her body and flared in her loins.

Raphael, a talkative fiend who often talked too much, was rendered speechless and slack jawed. His brow furrowed and his nose scrunched while his mind worked to process what and who was in his bed.

It was a reaction that almost made up for being kidnapped.

His confusion cleared when his mouth snapped closed, and the look in his orange and yellow eyes turned insanely desirous.

“Uh, hello,” Tav said, giving him a polite wave while also trying to ignore the wetness that rapidly continued to pool between her thighs.

Her lips still tingled from Haarlep’s kiss, and the scene wasn’t too far off from a fantasy she’d had more than once.

“What are you doing here, Little Mouse?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Haarlep unhelpfully supplied. “She’s here to have fun with us!”

She was grateful that Raphael looked somewhat skeptical. “Is this true, my dear?”

“It’s kind of a long story…” Tav replied.

Raphael glanced at her silk bindings.

“Forgive me - I don’t see you going anywhere anytime soon?”

“Ah, yes. Touché,” she conceded.

“I want to hear it from you,” Raphael said, a warning threading into his tone. “Why are you here?”

She looked to Haarlep, and they seemed all-too-curious in what answer she would give. It was anyone’s guess as to why they destroyed the note from Mephistopheles, and Tav wondered if they would feel at all indebted to her for not spilling the beans.

“Korrilla told me it was your Name Day last week. I realize I’m a little late, but I wanted to do something extra special since it was your… wait, how old are you exactly?”

“Funny.” Raphael’s thin smile did not reach his eyes. “Try again.”

“I was kidnapped?”

Why did it come out as a question?

“Haarlep, do get the mouse’s lips moving, won’t you? I think I will get comfortable and watch…”

The incubus happily motioned to return to his previous position over her.

“Alright - hold on!” Tav yelled, causing an amused Haarlep to stop. “I’ll tell you the truth - under one condition.”

Raphael barked a laugh.

“Again you show up in my House uninvited, this time naked and fettered to my bed, and you think you have the right to demand conditions?” His gaze turned stormy. “You are lucky that my fondness for you extended into forgiveness the first time.”

“You’ll forgive me for this second time as well, I think.” Tav smiled mischievously and parted her legs to give both cambion and incubus a better view of her sex. “I’ll give you the truth, Raphael; what I’m asking for is that I be returned home, safe and sound after we… reacquaint ourselves - without the talk or the signing of any contract.”

“You’ve already honored your contract, and I have not yet come knocking at your door with another.”

She shrugged with a shoulder. “I’ve learned you can never play it too safe with devils.”

Raphael turned suspicious. “What are you up to?”

“Just agree, Master,” Haarlep said. They licked their lips. “I’m tired of waiting.”

Judging by Raphael’s dark expression and the stiffness in his breeches, he was also tired of waiting.

“Very well; I will return you to your home, safe and sound - albeit sore. No contract will be signed during this visit. Now, the truth.”

The words easily left her.

“The truth is I want you to fuck me, Raphael. I’ve wanted you undiluted and raw since meeting you, and imagine my disappointment stumbling upon Haarlep on my first visit. You should know they said some very scandalous things about your… performance.”

The (undiluted and raw) darkness that overtook Raphael’s features would have frightened her… if she weren’t so turned on by it. It was a dangerous mix of desire and fury; desire for her, fury for Haarlep.

“What did you tell the mouse, Haarlep?” he asked, head canting with a piercing stare directed at the incubus. “About my performance.”

Haarlep did not immediately respond; Tav could tell they were frantically plotting how to navigate a floor covered in eggshells.

“The mouse asked if you were good in bed...”

“And you told her?”

It was Haarlep’s turn to be nervous, and Tav savored every second.

“And I said, jokingly, of course, that you… weren’t. A-ha!”

“I see,” Raphael said flatly. “Well, since I am not ‘good in bed’ your participation privileges for this bed have been revoked.” The cambion’s unblinking, penetrative stare turned to her as he stalked over to the side of the bed.

“It was nothing but a joke, Master! At least allow me the opportunity to watch you fuck and fill the mouse?”

“No.” Raphael picked up the end of the chain and wrapped it once around his hand. “She’s mine...”

Sinfully wet after such a declaration, Tav turned her head to throw a secretive wink at a pouting Haarlep before they resentfully disappeared with a burst.

There was a snap of fingers, and Raphael came to be instantly naked and was very, very aroused. A second snap followed, causing a flash of heat to singe her skin as her silk bindings went up in a puff of smoke.

The cat gave the chain a tug.

“Come to me, my little mouse.”

Before her mind could be overrun by sex and pleasure, Tav thought of a note to (never) send back to Mephistopheles.

Lord Mephistopheles,

No need for a kidnapping; all you have to do is ask. I’ll be more than happy to return to your son’s bed, no contracts necessary.

Sincerely,

The Better Distraction

#thanks for the prompt!#this became longer than expected #bg3 #raphael bg3 #raphael x tav #raphael x tav fanfiction #my writing #answered #haarlep bg3 #haarlep #baldur’s gate 3 fanfiction

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wheeboo · 11 months

Text

ukiyo | xu minghao

SYNOPSIS. in which you and minghao spend the day together. PAIRING. xu minghao x gn!reader GENRE. angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, established relationship WARNINGS. language alluding to death, reader is in a wheelchair, mentions of an unnamed terminal disease that causes reader to have weakened limbs n feel very weak in general, vague mention of nudity (hao takes off reader’s clothes and gives them a bath) but nothing is explicitly described, descriptions of a hospital, terms of endearment (love), one curse word WORD COUNT. 4.3k

ukiyo ( 浮世 ) 𑁋 “the floating world”; living in the moment; detached from the bothers of life.

notes: there’s not really a plot to this. it’s just brainrot because i love torturing myself and my heart. i saw pics of the beach of hai cheng mv and immediately wanted to write something sad for no reason.

The late morning sunlight pours in through the small window of the bathroom as you hold a steady, blank gaze at the running water gushing out from the faucet. The sounds bounce off the walls of the bathroom, and you bring your eyes down to your legs.

You can hardly move them.

It’s been this way for the past two years. It had started with the muscles of your legs slowly succumbing to the weakness stemming from the terminal illness you had been diagnosed with. And as time continues to routinely pass, that certain weakness had set out to invade other parts of your body like a dumb and relentless parasite.

Over the years, the disease had been slowly nearing its peak. The countless visits to the hospital had laggardly dissipated every bit of hope to a possible recovery, and you’ve gotten used to the sentences being said of There’s no cure for the disease, or Sooner or later, it can spread to your brain. You’re only growing weaker and weaker each passing day. Every day tasks were already strenuous. Opening your eyes in the morning took too much strength. Nothing but tiredness and exhaustion plagued your body. Headaches have been becoming more prevalent. Sometimes you just want all this pain to cease to exist. You didn’t want to put this burden on the people you love.

You didn’t want to put this burden on Minghao.

“So... cherry blossom, lavender, or coconut chamomile?”

You slowly bring your gaze up to the sight of your boyfriend holding up three different scents of bubble bath in the doorway. The sight makes you giggle as you look between the different scents with curiosity, before looking back up at Minghao.

Even after being together the past four years, just the fleeting sight of him lights you up. Your body may be growing weaker each day, but your unwavering love for the man holding up bottles of bubble bath scents has never faltered. Not one bit.

But if you weren’t sick, he would be able to live the long, happy life that he wanted, right?

Minghao knows that you are tired𑁋it’s your default answer every day. He wishes he can be able to take away the exhaustion that you feel. He wishes to put all of that pain onto his shoulders and carry it for you so you could experience the freedom away from the constraints of your illness.

But he also knows that life doesn't always grant such wishes.

“Will you... surprise me?” You ask instead.

All he does is smile. It’s that soft, fond nose-scrunching smile that you’ve grown to love over the years. Minghao places the bottles on the counter of the sink, putting his body in front so you wouldn’t be able to see what he selects. Covering the bottle with his arms, he playfully walks backward towards the bathtub, causing you to elicit a weak laugh at his dorky antics.

As he reaches the tub, he leans over and carefully pours the bubble bath into the warm water, And as you watch, a gentle purple hue of bubbles begin to form and spread sporadically throughout the tub like a magical mist. It's the soothing and enchanting aroma of lavender.

“You... always know what I like, hm?” You ask him as he closes the container to the bottle and sets it back on the sink counter.

The corners of Minghao’s lips curl amusedly. "I may have learned a thing or two about you over the years.”

The sincerity in his words never fails to relax your heart and push away the clouds of your bittersweet thoughts. Minghao waits a minute or two before turning off the faucet and directing his attention back to you.

“Now,” He leans in front of you, letting his hands caress over yours on the handle of the wheelchair and landing at the hems of your shirt. “can I help you out of these clothes?”

A blush grows on your cheeks at his request despite him doing this for years. You heave out a nervous breath and nod as Minghao's hands begin to move over you with practiced ease, aware of your weakened limbs and exhausted state. He keeps his touch gentle and respectful, and starts with unbuttoning your shirt, his delicate fingers gliding effortlessly along the fabric to reveal the vulnerability the lies underneath. He doesn’t rush or hurry anything, simply setting his focus on you and only you. The warmth of his hands against your skin sends shivers running down your spine.

Though he has seen you bare for him many times, Minghao can’t help the faint smirk to his face. As the last button is undone, he lets your shirt fall to the tile floor below, his gaze travelling over you with adoration. The all-too familiar intimacy between you two has never diminished the admiration he holds for you. Treasuring you is something he has always been devoted to do.

“You’re so beautiful,” he mutters, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your knuckle, and you feel the surge of warmth and love run marathons to your heart.

With his hands now free from the task of your shirt, he continues his journey downwards, the tips of his fingers ghosting tenderly over your fragile skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. You can barely feel the way he touches you, but the thought of him doing so brings you comfort. He takes his precious time, savouring each second that passes between as he loosens the clasps of your pants and helps bring them down your legs with utmost caution.

As each layer of clothing is finally peeled off, a wave of relief and peace washes over you. Minghao sets your clothing neatly away before returning to your side and bringing you closer to the tub. He lets his arms wrap around you, carefully lifting you from the wheelchair and guiding you towards the edge of the bathtub. Sticking a hand in the water to ensure its a good temperature, he slowly but surely eases you into the bath, the water and lavender aroma embracing your body as you sink deeper inside the tub.

“Does it feel good?” he asks you while lathering the bubbles onto your shoulders.

A sigh escapes your lips as you lean your back against the tub with the bubbles tickling against your skin.

“Mhm,” You let out quietly. “Thank... thank you.” Thank you for taking care of me; I wish I could give you all the care back.

Minghao hums softly, planting a kiss to the top of your head, and retrieves a nearby sponge. Sitting himself down at the edge of the tub, he dips the sponge into the water before lightly caressing over your skin. He starts with your shoulders, washing your skin with a smooth pace and various patterns, helping to gradually ease away the tension to your body.

“Relax, love,” he tells you. “Let me take care of you.”

And so you let your eyes flutter to a close. It felt relaxing to do so𑁋to let go. It almost makes the pain in your head go away.

You watch the steam rise from the untouched bowl of rice porridge in front of you. It takes Minghao a few minutes later to come back with his own bowl, along with a few side dishes in hand. He glances towards you and notices your empty expression, a tinge of sadness to your eyes that brings a heavy weight to his chest, but he doesn’t acknowledge it. Reaching over, he takes your metal spoon in his hand and dips it in the bowl, grabbing a spoonful of the porridge.

“It’s important for you to eat, love.” Minghao blows on the spoon, cooling down the porridge before bringing it to your lips. The illness hasn’t been much cooperative to your appetite, and eating has been a daunting task for the past few months. He prepares you light foods that doesn’t take much strength to swallow, but enough to nourish you at the same time.

Parting your lips slightly, Minghao feeds you the spoonful of porridge, and you immediately relish in the warmth coursing through you. A small smile crosses your face at the familiar taste of comfort, and it even makes Minghao’s worried face soften. He continues to feed you, spoonful by spoonful, his eyes never leaving yours while taking in every detail𑁋the way your eyes flutter close after each bite, the way the faint smile to your face grows every so slightly, but enough for him to notice. It’s a big change to see, according to him.

“Tastes good.” You murmur under your breath, looking up at him.

The weariness fades off your face just minisculely. Minghao manages a gentle smile, barely noticing his own food going cold as he continues to feed you.

There’s a certain silence that you love with him𑁋it’s a domestic silence, especially after being together for four years, where you love observing him doing his everyday routine. But gosh, you miss the times when you were able to hold him in your own arms, or when you could wrap your arms around him in a tight back hug while he cooked, or sneak kisses to his cheek and run away before he would tackle you back into the bed. You miss the times when he’d let you hold him so he could listen to you read, or when you both sat across from each other having your late night doodling sessions.

You miss all those times, and there’s no way to get them back.

“I was thinking...” Minghao comes back to sit down after setting the dishes away. “...if you wanted to go on a little getaway for the day?”

You look up at him dazedly. “A... getaway?”

“You’ve mentioned wanting to go the beach before,” he inputs, and you see his face up to your idea. “and I think it would be nice to get some fresh air, would you say so?”

He really does remember all the things about you.

A flicker of hesitation crosses your mind, yet the longing for a change of scenery, a temporary escape from the walls that confine you, helps to wash away any doubts.

You used to dream about running through the white sand beach, feeling the heat of the sun on your skin and the cool breeze caress your face while listening to the calming sound of the waves crashing against the shore. You dreamed of you and Minghao’s laughter mingling into the fresh, afternoon air, your hands intertwined together as you dash down the shoreline together.

Ever since you were a kid, you dreamed of the beach being the place where you would marry the love of your life, because the sight of the sun setting in the horizon, the soft sand beneath your feet, and the vastness of the ocean waters as you kissed your partner was a fairytale you wanted to experience.

And ever since before your diagnosis and still to this day, you dream of the beach being the place where you would marry Minghao.

Now, it entirely feels like a distant memory now, something beyond unattainable, but the thought of simply seeing it with your eyes brings some form of hope back to your tired heart.

So you look back up at Minghao as a very faint sparkle of eagerness passes through your eyes.

The winter season paints the world with a palette of muted colours. The once vibrancy of the ocean waters fades into a pale blue-grey like the cloudy skies above, and the emptiness allows the beach to unfold in its truest form. The waves aren’t too strong or too weak, but roll in gently onto the shoreline with their white foam brushing against the sand before receding back into the vast waters.

As you and Minghao stroll down towards the beach, you find small patches of snow in the grass and bushes. The air is crisp and chilly, but you don't mind the cold. You find yourself dressed in a comfortable and cozy turtleneck, along with a snug coat to protect you from the winter chill. Minghao had insisted on picking an outfit since dressing you up𑁋and making sure all the colours work well with each other𑁋has always been one of his favourite activities to do.

There’s a ramp that you go down before finally arriving onto the sandy grounds. The wheels of the wheelchair sinks into the slightly damp sand as Minghao pushes you closer towards the water. He's used to assisting you with mobility the past two years, and he does it with such grace and care that it has practically become a second nature for him.

The beach appears desolate, but seeing it so untouched and undisturbed makes the experience far more peaceful.

Minghao stops the wheelchair at a comfortable distance from the water's edge before kneeling beside you. His ears are slightly reddened from the cold, even with the protection of his own turtle neck and long scarf, but his gaze in the direction of the water is filled with warmth and pure awe.

He turns to reach for your hand on your lap and intertwines his fingers with yours, before turning back to the sight of the sky meeting the sea.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he asks.

“It’s...” If you could, if your body gave you the benefit of the doubt for one single moment, you would say everything coming from your heart𑁋how the word beautiful is just a small word compared to the real floating feeling that it gives you. “...beautiful.”

The word feels lackluster, but it's all you can manage to say, and Minghao's warm smile is all that you need to back you up.

He turns back towards you, hesitation in his words. “Do you want to stand closer to the water?”

You peer at Minghao with hesitation and uncertainty. Standing now took... more strength than usual as of lately, and it pains you to admit it. But the thought of being able to stand near the water, to be able to stand on the world that fills your dreams at night was more than tempting. You can barely remember the last time you were able to go to the beach; it was more than possible that it was way before the diagnosis of your illness.

But what if this could be your only opportunity?

And so you muster a small nod towards Minghao. “Help... me stand?”

Minghao only nods. He moves behind the wheelchair and locks the brakes so that it won't move while he helps you stand. With nothing but caution, he wraps an arm around your waist and one under your knees as you slowly rise from the wheelchair, your legs trembling from the use of all your strength as you lean against Minghao for balance. It felt... strange to be able to stand like this again, even if it was just for a few short minutes, almost like a sensation you have nearly forgotten.

His arm tightens around your waist as he guides you to take your first step, leading you closer to the shore. Each step felt like an ardous journey. You basically can hear the loud protests of your own body telling you to stop.

“You’re doing great,” he tells you, and his words bring you some heightened determination.

Even with each passing moment and your body slowly but surely taking all its effort to remain you upright, you don’t let the thought dampen your persistence.

When you finally reach the line where the tip of your shoe reaches the edge, the ocean stretches out before you as if holding countless stories of joy, sadness, and everything in between within its deep, mysterious depths.

Minghao still has an arm wrapped around you, but his eyes are directed into yours, both tenderly and admiringly.

"You did it," he assures you. "You're standing by the ocean.”

A bittersweet smile crosses your lips, a smile warm but with a hint of sadness. You feel the heat growing in your eyelids as you let a few streams of tears to flow down your face, never thinking that such a vast space would become your safe haven. Minghao leans in to press a loving kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment.

You feel like you’re floating in that moment, suspended between that of reality and a dream. The weariness that lingers in your bones is briefly forgotten about, and you relish in the feeling of standing tall after so much time.

But as you continue standing, you feel the weakness descend upon you. The exhaustion surrounds you like a dense fog, clouding your mind and eating away at your energy. You try to keep your focus on the calmness of the ocean ahead, but you feel a certain heaviness to your eyes, making it difficult for you to keep them open.

And the world around you starts to blur.

Minghao is speaking. He’s speaking but you can’t make out any words because of the ringing in your ears that was growing louder each second and drowning out his voice which was the only thing fucking powerful enough to keep you even remotely grounded𑁋

“Y/N, stay with me. Can you... hear...”

No, I can’t hear you. You’re fading away... I’m the one who is fading away.

“Hao...” is all you manage to mumble out in a hushed, weak whisper.

The last thing you remember is the feeling of his arms around you and his voice desperately calling out your name before all you could see is black.

It takes a lot for Minghao to break.

But seeing you in this hospital bed right next to him, with your skin more fragile than ever and your body laying unconsciously still, he feels each individual piece of his heart shatter by the passing minute and his chest grow heavy. The doctors predicted for you to have woken up two hours ago, but... you haven’t done so.

He doesn’t know what to feel, and it almost feels like each breath he takes only suffocates him even more, and being confined in the walls of the hospital room had been no help. Maybe it’s anguish, fear, guilt, or even anger. Perhaps it was all of the above.

Minghao's hands tremble as he clenches them into fists, tight enough for his knuckles to turn white. He wants to scream, but he restrains himself, and he’s been oddly good at doing so.

If only you knew all the times he had desperately tried to fight back tears knowing that one day, you won’t be waking up next to him anymore𑁋that you won’t wake up at all. Or the times he had fought back anger to hide away just how much he wants to yell at the universe for cursing you with such a damned illness.

As he continues to anxiously pace around the room, a soft knock to the door makes him halt. A man enters into the room𑁋the doctor𑁋with a solemn expression to his face. He glances towards your unconscious body on the bed, before turning back towards Minghao.

“Comparing the results of some tests and a previous medical check-up,” The man takes a noticeable deep breath. “I’m afraid that the disease has progressed its way into their brain, and it’s hard to tell as of now when they will regain consciousness.”

Minghao's body freezes at the doctor's words, and he feels something in his chest tugging painfully at the strings of his heart. The room grows silent aside for the sound of his racing heartbeat pounding in his ears, and the rhythmic beating of the heart monitor.

He means... that you knew all along?

The weight of it all crashes over him like a wave at high tide, and he loosens the grip he has to his fists. He swears that the ground beneath him was crumbling now as he gets himself to run back to your side and bring the hands of your lifeless form into his trembling ones.

“Why didn't you tell me?" he whispers shakily, but his question hangs unanswered in the air. “Dammit, Y/N, why didn’t you tell me?”

He feels the anger inside of him now, but he isn’t angry at you. He’s angry at himself. He clutches at your hands tightly, his grip almost desperate with his fingers running over your knuckles. Minghao's eyes scan frantically over your face, pleading for some type of response, for any sign that you can hear him. But the silence in the room remains unchanged.

Minghao presses his quivering lips against your hand, a river of tears spilling down his face. He blames himself for not seeing the signs. He blames himself for the pain you’ve went through. All he wanted to do was bring you to a place of happiness for just a single day, but it all went downhill, and he blames no one else but himself.

It takes a lot for Minghao to break, but not when it comes to you.

“I’ll beat you to it, Hao!”

Minghao doesn’t race after you, instead he watches with a grin to his face as you dash excitedly in the direction of the ocean water, nearly tripping in the sand in the process. The waves were calm as they crash lightly against the shoreline. It wasn’t much cloudy than before, and the air was still as chilly as the previous days, but for some reason it felt refreshing as ever to breathe in the wintry air and a perfect time to take a stroll near the waters.

He slowly makes his way down to the beach, hands in his pockets as he watches you stop at the edge of where the water rolls into the sand. You turn around to face him, a pout to your face that makes him chuckle to himself.

“You’re such a slowpoke!” You exclaim to him.

When he finally makes his way right next to you, you both look out at the waters together.

“We both know I would’ve beaten you anyways.” Minghao mutters, and he hears you release an annoyed scoff.

You turn towards him, a teasing smirk to your face. “Care to prove it?”

He raises an eyebrow as if contemplating your words for a moment. But with a sudden burst of energy, he takes off running, leaving you behind in the sand. Nothing but laughter leaves you as you follow after him, calling out his name for him to slow the heck down with your feet sinking into the softened sand with each step you took.

It takes some time of more chasing before Minghao finally stops in front of the water. When you arrive next to him, breaths shallow and unsteady from all the running, he quickly circles his arms around your waist like a tender cocoon, pulling you into a loving back hug.

Minghao rests his head comfortingly on your shoulder, his warm breath tickling against the skin of your neck. His touch immediately makes you lean into him, both of your gazes looking straight in the direction of the endless ocean waters. Time seems to stand still, where all the worries of the outside world melt away with each wave that comes in. It's just the two of you together, and no one else.

“I love you.” The words leave his lips like a hushed promise, even though it was only the two of you standing together. “You know that, right?”

"I know," You reply, voice barely above a whisper. “I love you too, Hao.”

As the words suspend quietly in the chilly air, a wistful breeze sweeps over the beach.

“You know I’ve always wanted to get married at the beach?”

Minghao tilts his head slightly, a soft, somewhat playful smile playing on his lips as he gazes into your eyes wonderingly.

“Is that so?” he hums. “Guess this is where we’re going to get married, then.”

You couldn’t tell if it was excitement or surprise that was raging through you. He said it so casually that it nearly makes your entire body go limp in his arms, your heart fluttering and swelling out of your chest.

“Wow, I... I didn’t expect you to say that so easily.” You stammer out your words.

Minghao just chuckles, placing a kiss to the temple of your head. “If that’s what you want, then I promise to make it happen, love.”

You feel the smile bloom onto your face as you bring your eyes back out to the waters again. You feel him rocking you back and forth in his hold, swaying your bodies aside the small waves that come washing onto the shore. But as he continues to hold you and you notice the waves coming in heavier, the smile to your face slowly begins to fade away.

Turning around to face him, you get yourself to light up your face once more.

“Close your eyes,” You tell him, letting your fingers play with his hair flying in the breeze. “Can you do that for me?”

Minghao gives you an odd look, before complying and letting his eyes fall to a close. He feels you release yourself from his grasp until he was holding nothing, which he brings his arms back down to his side. He shivers from a sudden breeze running past him as the anticipation courses through his veins.

Seconds turn into minutes, and all Minghao can hear is the waves beginning to crash louder against the sand. But amidst the sound of nature taking its course, there's silence from you. He doesn’t hear any signs of movement, any noise that can indicate that it was you. He hears nothing.

“Y/N?” he calls out once, twice, three times. “Y/N!”

And when he finally prys open his eyes, he’s met with nothing. All he could see was the seemingly endless beach and ocean stretching out before him in all directions possible. He calls out your name again in desperation, panic, fear, but he doesn’t earn any response, feeling the tears brim in his eyes once more as he sinks to his knees in the sand.

You’re gone.

taglist (open) ʚɞ @enhazen @haowrld @ylliris-hanniehae @icyminghao @slytherinshua

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underdark-dreams · 4 months

Text

Fellow Rolan lovers forgive me 👀 I have no idea where this came from. I just encountered Harper Geraldus in Act 3 again in my playthrough last night, and my brain said, that boy needs to get [redacted]

Harper Geraldus x afab!OC (unnamed, description kept vague)

Wet Behind the Ears

"What would you like, Geraldus? You can tell me." Harper Geraldus has had a very bad, terrible, absolutely no-good week. His superiors decide he needs a night at the Sharess's Caress to cure what ails him.

Tags: Size Kink, Sexual Inexperience, Face Sitting, Explicit | afab!OC

Word Count: 5.6k [Read on AO3]

No sooner had she stepped from the bathwater did the door to her chambers swing open.

“Hope you’re not headed to bed,” called a sing-song voice.

She wrapped a towel around her wet middle just as Irenya flounced brazenly past the wooden screen beside her bath. Privacy was a rare luxury in Sharess’s Caress, but her workday was well over—she’d earned the right to a bit of it.

“Do come in,” she drawled.

The elf only gave her a coy smile as she toyed with the laces of her tiny bodice. Even for a courtesan, Irenya wore as little as she could get away with. And the bar downstairs owed her half its profits for it.

“Good, you’re up. Mamzell’s got another client for you.”

“At this hour?” A bit of impatience crept into her voice; it was far past midnight. Whoever they were, they’d better be paying well. “Don’t suppose they’d prefer one of our lovely drow.”

“You know that’s not how this works,” Irenya laughed, a tinkling sound. “Mamzell handpicked you. Said you’ll be his type.”

That meant he was either quite green, or quite reserved—she knew her niche well. She busied herself with toweling off and wondered which. “Patriar?”

“Harper,” answered Irenya.

That did stir a mild curiosity. Harpers were even rarer than Guild members on the upper floors of this place, and that was saying something. Folk who dealt in secrecy and under-dealings were strongly discouraged from visiting pleasure houses—though she knew from personal experience that they didn’t always listen to orders.

And why should they? Sharess’s Caress kept secrets better than any of them put together. But unlike the Guild or the Zhent, most Harpers weren’t known to have pockets deep enough for after-hours trysts.

“If this is another favor for Entharl Danthelon,” she warned, cinching a gauze robe around her waist. “I swear, Amira turns into a giggling maid around that bloke. Don’t tell her I said that,” she added swiftly.

Thankfully, Irenya didn’t seem to hear. She took an eager step closer. “Just wait till you see, you might have fun with this one. He’s so pretty,” Irenya groaned, biting her lip in the way that earned all that coin.

Pretty or not, her body yearned only for her empty bed. But telling Irenya that would ensure it got back to Mamzell Amira, and the house mother’s patience had its limits. She put on a practiced smile instead.

“Then kindly shoo,” she told Irenya. “And send the pretty man up.”

As the door swung shut behind the elf—who was no doubt headed for a good night’s sleep, unlike herself—she heaved a sigh and moved to prepare her room for clientele. A second goblet on the tray; a pass over the covers and pillows to ensure they looked fresh and unslept in. She shook her hair down from its clasp, glancing in the mirror by the bath to smooth it. Then she perched herself on the edge of the mattress and arranged her robe to show a sliver of leg. Just enough to catch the eye.

If this Harper was openly visiting the Caress, he must have done something very impressive worth rewarding. Or else survived something awful enough to warrant a professional distraction.

Gods, let it not be the latter. She’d comforted her share of men and women who only wanted to be held while they cried, but tonight, the prospect made her groan. A tumble in the sheets would be far less work on her part, and the customer usually left just as satisfied in the end.

A soft tap at the door broke her reverie.

Her brow furrowed for a moment—knocks were rare. “Come in,” she called.

When the youth stepped slowly into her room, it was immediately apparent why he hadn’t just opened the door like any other patron would.

Irenya hadn’t lied—he was certainly pretty. But gods, he was young. Couldn’t be older than twenty or so, with an angular jaw and wide hazel eyes framed by long, dark lashes the same color as the hair curling just past his shoulders. He had the look of a fawn who’d just stumbled into the middle of civilization.

She watched his large eyes quickly take in the room. When they fell on her where she sat, the blush that traveled up his face was noticeable even in candlelight.

Her mind switched tack at once. She rose to her bare feet, wearing her friendliest and least wanton smile.

“Please,” she invited, drawing an arm out to welcome him in.

His eyes flicked down her figure once, then settled firmly up on her face. “Thank you,” he managed, and strode briskly into the room as if afraid she might rescind the offer.

It took only a few seconds to size him up. His leather jerkin was well-worn but clean, same as his boots. He was tall and fit, yet he moved with more of a cautious ranger’s gait than that of a soldier or swordsman. Perhaps that was just down to nerves. As she watched him close the door, she noticed his pale fingers fidget and shake on the latch slightly.

Few of his age and apparent rank could afford this place, particularly by special appointment. Someone must be very fond of this young man.

“Make yourself comfortable,” she told him, filling the inevitable silence before it could form. “Would you like a drink? I’ve got something excellent from Amn.”

She turned away to uncork the bottle and give him a chance to look around. In truth, this was a vintage she’d been saving for a quiet moment alone tonight—but it would taste just as fine with company. As she filled both cups, she could hear him shifting on his feet behind her.

“Thank you,” he repeated again as she turned back. His voice was a gentle tenor, and there was a nervous tremble on the first word.

“So.” She offered the wine out to him—he was careful not to touch her fingers as he accepted it. “What shall I call you?”

“Geraldus,” he blurted out. Clearly not taking up her veiled offer to give a pseudonym. When his doelike eyes finally met hers again, they were unsure. “Can—could I ask your name?”

She gave him another easy smile and replied with the usual. Not returning his honesty—but when did she ever?

“Very nice to meet you.” And young Geraldus actually dipped his head in a little bow to her. Oh, she would have this one fast asleep in half an hour.

“What a gentleman,” she laughed, finding herself harmlessly charmed by the gesture. “The pleasure’s all mine. Seat?”

She sank back down on the edge of the bed while leaving plenty of space for a gap. For a moment Geraldus froze, and she was afraid she’d broken him. Then he followed suit wordlessly, wine in hand, and took a seat on the very far corner of the mattress.

Really should bother Amira for some chairs, she noted to herself. Then again, most of the clientele didn’t mind beds as much as Geraldus apparently did.

At least he was drinking. It would help him forget his nerves, and she was pleased to see Geraldus take a long drought as his eyes roamed across the room again over the edge of his cup.

She took a savoring sip. “Good, isn’t it?”

“It’s sweet,” he agreed in surprise. “It doesn’t burn like—” He caught himself, looking sheepishly at her. “That is, it’s better than the wine back home.”

“Where’s home for you, Geraldus?” She tried and failed to imagine such a gentle soul growing up on the streets of Baldur’s Gate.

“Nowhere special,” he said, looking down to swirl the liquid in his cup. “Just a little village in the Greenfields.”

“Ah—” She half-reclined with an elbow on the mattress, and felt a grin rise to her face in spite of herself. “Yeah, that’s firmly ale country. Damn good ale, though.”

Geraldus’s face finally relaxed. “You’re from Greenfields too?”

“Just lived there for a while. Long enough to miss it after a few years in the Gate. Let me guess, was your family in barley or sheep?”

“Sheep,” he laughed, and she admired how handsome he was with a touch more confidence. “On rainy days I can still smell the wool.”

“You think sheep are bad? Try pigs.” She cocked a brow at him and took another drink.

Geraldus looked at her as though trying to tell whether she was joking. “There’s no way someone like you has mucked out a pig stall.”

“Why not?”

“You’re a lady,” he protested, as if that ended the discussion. “You drink Amnian wine, you smell like lavender—” Geraldus straightened up slightly, looking as though he'd given too much away.

She found she enjoyed his guilelessness. She had no regrets about the comforts this life afforded her, but ‘lady’ was a stretch. Still, manners were always appreciated.

“How else do you think I paid my way here?” She teased him. “Selling my best sows set me up quite nicely my first year in Wrym’s Crossing.”

The subjects of life in the country compared to life in Baldur’s Gate took them far. She refilled their wine twice, eventually just leaving the bottle within arm’s reach on the floor. Geraldus had relaxed enough to mirror her pose and lean back on his elbow; she brought her feet up on the bed to curl into a comfortable shape beside him.

Perhaps sleepiness and the wine were going to her own head…but Geraldus looked prettier by the minute. She watched the rose-petal curve under his lower lip as he spoke, not catching what he was saying. His eyes were more of a pale green than the hazel gold she’d taken them for at first. Or maybe that was just a trick of the candlelight?

As she pondered, she realized that he had grown silent and was watching her face in turn. She'd angled herself closer to him involuntarily while he spoke. They were close enough she could hear the shallow note of his breathing.

“Can I ask you something?” She requested, breaking the quiet. Geraldus nodded.

“Why exactly did you come here tonight? You’re not the usual type,” she added, and touched her fingers to his free hand in an attempt to soften the observation.

“Oh.” Geraldus fiddled with the neck of the wine glass in his hand. “It wasn’t really my idea. Not that—this is nice,” he said in a rush, and she felt his fingers twining up through hers on the bedspread. “Not like I expected.”

She cocked her head. “Did you expect me to eat you up?” Not a bad idea, she thought, glancing over the lines of his body under his jerkin.

“No!” He blurted out in surprise. “Maybe? I don’t know…it just happened so fast. Entharl pushed me out the doors before I knew where I was. Said I was too gloomy for usual company,” he added, looking down at his boots.

So that confirmed her earlier suspicions. Harpers may be discreet, but it was hard to miss things when you worked down the street from what was almost certainly one of their safehouses. Which meant poor Geraldus must have been sent here tonight for comforting as much as pleasuring.

“Have you had a bad day?” She asked gently.

His large eyes met hers with a long look. For a moment, he almost seemed close to tears. “Bad week,” he answered.

She brushed the back of his hand with her thumb. “Would you like to talk about it?”

Vehemently, he shook his head at her.

“What would you like to do then, Geraldus? You can tell me.”

“I don't know…I’m not sure.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “Can I kiss you?”

In answer, she took the wine glass from his hand and set it at the foot of the bed beside her own. Then she reclined parallel to him, tilting her face up in an open offer.

Without another word, he leaned down to press his lips to hers. He trembled slightly against her, whether from nerves or from a more sober emotion she couldn’t tell. She brought a hand up to his hair regardless, smoothing and tucking the dark waves back behind one lightly pointed ear.

Their lips slid together softly like that for a long moment. Eventually she felt Geraldus relaxing against her mouth. But his frame still hovered over her, as if he wasn’t sure where to put his weight.

Without breaking the kiss, she guided his far arm to her side. Though she’d placed it there herself, the feel of his large palm pressing against her waist stirred a pleasant warmth in her belly. She clasped both hands behind his neck, encouraging him to lean down further over her while they kissed.

When he left his lips parted for a few seconds, she took the chance to gently touch her tongue to his. Geraldus made a soft, eager sound against her, returning the gesture with enthusiasm. His mouth was warm and sweet and tasted of rich Amnian wine.

While kissing him was lovely, she was increasingly curious to know how else she might take this poor boy’s mind off his apparent troubles. When she pulled away, Geraldus’s face trailed after hers as though reluctant to end the kiss.

“Would you like me to kiss you anywhere else, darling?”

Geraldus blinked down at her, perhaps thrown by the pet name. “Where else is there?”

It brought a laugh from her, and she curled her fingers through the dark locks behind his neck. “You really don’t know how this works, do you.”

His eyes widened with a nervousness that only confirmed her suspicions.

“I've been with a woman before,” he answered defensively.

“Oh?” She continued petting his hair, keeping her tone light and unteasing. “Have you been kissed other places, then? By men or women?”

From there, it was easy to suss out the exact limits of his experience. It came as no shock that no one had ever put their lips anywhere but his mouth. Not his neck, his chest, his cock—that last fact she withheld her kisses from him until he admitted, flushing profusely right up to his dark hair all the while.

She found herself speaking more plainly than usual. “Geraldus, first I’d like to help you out of these clothes. Then I’d like to suck you off before I ride you. How does that sound?”

That had most certainly broken him. He stammered and blushed somehow darker; she could practically feel the heat radiating off his face above hers.

Finally, he managed a breathless response of “yes, please.”

She drew his lips in against hers again as she went to work. She felt him reach a hand to the buckles under his side, but she was already springing them open on both right and left.

“How do you know—” He began, impressed, before quieting as the realization hit him. She slid the leather pieces up over his head and leaned in to give him a quick, enthusiastic kiss. When his linen tunic followed, she kept him held back for a moment with a hand splayed over his sternum.

Gods damn, but they grew them right back in Greenfields.

Geraldus was broad-shouldered and lean, with firm bands of muscle beneath the pale skin of his arms and chest and stomach. From the sinews in his forearms and the strong cut of his shoulders, she guessed he handled a longbow quite often.

As her eyes raked over him with open appreciation, she caught sight of a shining scar across his left side. Young he may be, but his body already bore evidence of his chosen profession. She reached to brush down the line of it with her fingers; Geraldus shivered but tilted slightly into her hand.

“Didn’t get that shepherding,” she observed.

“No,” Geraldus agreed. He licked his lips again—the gesture was much more intriguing combined with shirtlessness. She hooked her thumbs over the waist of his pants in suggestion.

“Wait,” he requested, his gentle voice trembling again. She watched his eyes moving over the curves under her thin robe. “Can I?”

She leaned back and stretched her arms up over the pillows, arching her back in invitation.

Slowly and deliberately, as if unwrapping an expensive gift, his fingers reached for the tie at her waist. She watched with satisfaction as he drew the garment open to each side to expose the bare length of her body. His lips parted in admiration as he took her in.

“Can I touch you?” Geraldus asked in a whisper.

“Anywhere you like,” she assured him.

To her delight, Geraldus fell over her and began eagerly exploring her chest with his lips. When his hot mouth closed over the hard peak of one breast, she hummed in approval and ran her nails up through his long hair. It seemed to encourage him; his calloused palm moved to cup the other.

“Tonight’s for you, darling,” she reminded him lazily, not really in a hurry to interrupt him.

He responded between hungry swirls of his tongue. “I’d kiss you here if you’d let me,” he said, and his hand actually slid from her breast to land boldly above the apex of her thighs.

“Absolutely not,” she laughed against his brow. “Gods, you’re unbelievable—how dare those Harpers keep you hidden away so long? Sure you don’t have a little sweetheart in Rivington?”

“Of course not—” There was a wet sound as he released her breast to stare up at her, wide-eyed. “I wouldn’t be here if—if I was—”

She clasped his jaw in a hand to kiss him again, drowning out whatever earnest response he was trying to make to her teasing. “If you’re very, very good tonight, I’ll sit on your pretty face. How about that?”

“Gods,” he groaned, and that pretty face landed between her breasts. “Would you?”

She looked down at him quizzically. “You honestly want to, don’t you?”

His cheeks flushed a deep pink. “Yes,” he admitted.

“As long as you’re a good boy, then,” she told him. With a firm shove, she sent him sitting back on his heels at the end of the bed. “Now take off your pants, Geraldus.”

He scrambled to obey, kicking off his boots before his fingers fumbled at the laces of his trousers. She lay back and watched him with genuine anticipation. From the size of the tent straining at his front, she already suspected that the gods had given to him with both hands.

And what a delightful bit of justice in a harsh world—for young Harper Geraldus to be blessed with such a big cock.

His impressive length stood stiff at attention, skin a lovely smooth pink—and the size of him. Not the biggest she'd had, but much closer than his blushing shyness had led her to believe.

She crooked one finger at him where he stood in a come-hither motion. He crawled up the bed eagerly, but she shifted away to the side at the last minute. “On your back,” she directed him.

Geraldus obeyed again, his tall frame collapsing into the pillows as he watched her shuck the robe all the way back off her shoulders. She curled up into his side, tracing a finger down the firm, fair planes of his chest and stomach. He shivered under her touch.

Then her fingers closed gently around his base—barely fitting a third of his length in her grip. She pumped him a few slow times from base to tip. It would require most of her creativity to take him, either with her mouth or her cunt.

But if anyone deserved both, it was the young man currently squirming and whining in her bed. She could tell Geraldus was struggling to quell the instinct to thrust up faster into her grip. No doubt trying to be good enough to earn what she’d promised, judging by the way his wide eyes were fixed in anticipation on her face. She clenched her thighs together at the thought of having his eager mouth between them.

“I can see why no one’s put lips to your cock before,” she mused, enjoying the way his dark brows screwed up just from the unhurried strokes of her hand.

“W-why?” His tenor had shot up to a strained pitch. She loosened her grasp completely—it would be too easy to finish him like that.

“You’ve got enough to choke on,” she told him, and climbed between his legs. “But don’t worry, I’m quite good at this.”

Before he could clear his expression from its jumbled mixture of shock and hope, she leaned to take his tip softly over her tongue.

His body made a sharp jackknife at the waist, and Geraldus let out a word much filthier than she expected. But she was ready for his physical reaction—the weight of her forearms on his hips kept them firmly planted into the mattress.

She slid her mouth over him, relaxing her jaw to take him all the way to the back of her throat before releasing everything but the very tip of his cock. She continued the motion several times until saliva trickled down the rest of his length. Then she returned her hand to his base, twisting her grip to meet her lips with each motion.

She took him just like that, giving attention to his full length, relishing the way his smooth tip bumped the back of her throat with each thrust. He whimpered and begged incoherently above her at the sensations of her mouth and hand taking him in tandem. Could he already be as close as he sounded?

Just as the thought occurred, she felt his legs tense on either side of her own. Almost disappointed, she instantly slid her mouth off him with a wet kiss of release.

Geraldus made a sound like a sob at the absence. When she glanced up, there were actual tears pricking at the corners of his dark eyelashes.

“Dearest,” she murmured up to him. It was far too tempting to apologize to that face; she placed nipping kisses along his thighs instead. “You deserve to feel my cunt first, don't you think?”

“Yes,” he groaned, obviously trying to master the strain in his voice. It suddenly seemed like a very good time to reward his patience.

“Be a good boy and slide down,” she urged him, already moving up around his straining erection on her knees to straddle his waist.

That brought a spark of hope to his eyes. Geraldus frantically gripped her torso for leverage, tugging her bodily up the bedcovers as he somehow nudged each of his broad shoulders through the gap in her legs. As he settled her above him, he stared up at the slick view between her thighs like a penitent.

“Smack me twice if you can’t breathe,” she told him, giving his dark locks a teasing pull to try and get his attention. The way he nodded left her unconvinced he’d heard.

Deciding he looked ready enough, she lowered herself firmly over his waiting mouth.

For all his obvious inexperience, the instant heat and enthusiasm of his tongue was a pleasant start. Her eyelashes fluttered in satisfaction as he painted firm strokes up her folds, just barely reaching her peak.

“Good,” she praised with a sigh. “Higher—”

He listened attentively despite wearing her thighs clasped around the delicate points of his ears. His hands rose to her hips as he angled his mouth higher, finally hitting the spot where she needed him most. Her toes curled where they were pressed over his biceps.

He was completely unpracticed, but he had good enough instincts to keep the pace steady as she rocked herself against his face. She imagined his hips bucking uselessly into the air behind her, desperate to wet his neglected cock in the folds his tongue was parting.

“Pretty Geraldus,” she sighed, her hand a fist in his dark hair, trying to keep her wits about her as she felt a twitching climax build at her core. “Shall I come on your tongue?”

His eyes flew wide between her legs. In answer, strong forearms gripped tighter over each of her thighs, holding her down onto the now-frantic lapping of his tongue over her slit. She closed her eyes and arched her back against him, giving way to the heat of his mouth desperately sucking and licking her closer to the edge.

With one last tug on his hair, she shuddered against him and rode out her orgasm over his tongue. She felt a gush of arousal from her center flow out over his lips. Geraldus moaned something against her flesh, but the words dissolved into a hum that ran straight to her core and reverberated as another shiver of pleasure up her spine.

With effort, she pushed herself back to sit on his chest, freeing his arms. Geraldus gasped for air slightly, but his expression was drunk with pleasure and a bit of pride. His mouth and chin were painted wet with her arousal.

“Such a good boy,” she purred in praise. “Getting me ready to take that big cock of yours—” Before he could respond, she reached to swipe her thumb along the wet line of his jaw, then nudged at the juncture of his lips.

He understood immediately, obediently sucking her finger into his mouth and cleaning her release off with his tongue. She felt his hips rocking involuntarily behind her.

With a smooth shift of her weight, she landed with her bare chest pressed to his and pushed her wet slit back against the top of his cock.

“Oh,” Geraldus whined above her, and his beautiful eyes squeezed shut at the feeling. She continued slicking her folds up and down his length to wet him, all the while watching the way his face screwed up as if pained. His fingers flew to grip around hers where they lay over his ribs.

It was difficult enough to line up her opening with his cock from this angle—let alone while having both hands held hostage under his own. Using his firm stomach as leverage, she pushed up to straddle him against her and then sank down. It seated the tip of him perfectly inside her.

Just that first stretch was delicious. Geraldus seemed to feel the same; his hands released hers, instead landing on her hips with an enthusiastic squeeze. But he panted obediently under her, eyelids still shut tight, waiting for her to take him further.

Little by little, she eased herself down onto each inch of him, her jaw falling slack as he stretched her walls to their limit. Finally her hips landed to slot against his own.

She stayed there for a moment, relishing the utter fullness of having his cock entirely buried within her. The ache at her opening was slowly tipping from a twinge of pain to a throb of pleasure.

But she wouldn’t be able to ride him from this angle. Instead, she leaned forward to grasp his strong shoulders and braced her arms straight against them. “Geraldus, look at me.”

His eyes fluttered open then, and landed on her face where it hovered above his. She took in his parted lips, the aquiline line of his nose, the youthful smoothness of his brow marred by a pleading wrinkle as he waited for her to move. And his expressive eyes, which she now decided with certainty were a pretty shade of hazel—currently traveling over her face as if trying to read her thoughts.

“You are the loveliest man,” she told him with utter sincerity. And I’m going to fuck you until you forget everything but my cunt.

With his eyes still on her, she slid her hips up and back down over his length. A guttural, breathy sound rose straight from his chest. She continued working him in and out of her tight wetness, finding a slow but steady pace that was just barely past the edge of teasing for both of them.

“Oh, Gods—” His hands spasmed against her hips, as if he wanted to bounce her faster on him but wasn’t sure whether it was permitted.

She took the cue herself. She ground her hips into his at a more brisk clip—and bit her lip hard at the sensation of his tip knocking deep inside her with each thrust. At this angle and pace, he filled her to the point of incoherence.

After being taken up to the edge of release by her mouth, she could tell Geraldus was already close again. When her fingers brushed up over his hard nipples, he let out a shuddering whine of pleasure. His hard length twitched against her walls.

At once, she slowed to grind her hips into him, relishing the pressure of his hard cock filling her so fully. He panted at yet another denial, and she felt his calloused fingertips digging into the flesh of her hips. Geraldus gazed up at her with a plea for more.

“Have you been good enough to come in me?” She studied his face unhurried, admiring the way his fair brow screwed up in anguish and pleasure at the question. “What do you think, darling?”

“Yes,” he begged, too sweet to know he was strong enough to fuck her at whatever pace he wanted, even from this angle. “Please, yes, I have—”

She splayed her fingers across his chest, rocking herself deeper atop him. “Ask me for it.”

“Please,” he whined prettily, his eyes shining with tears again. “Please, please, I’ve been good, I swear—Gods, let me come inside you, please—”

He was so earnest, so beyond desperate, it would be unthinkably cruel to deny him. She leaned both hands back on his thighs and rode him hard, using the angle to drive his cock into her center again and again. Stars swelled across her vision; each thrust sent his considerable length pounding against the limits of her insides. She closed her eyes against another rush of pleasure to her core, listening to the sweet way Geraldus whimpered her name.

Large palms pressed hard against her lower back—the angle of him shifted inside her as he leaned up to muffle his sounds into the skin of her breast. Then his arms and legs shuddered as he released inside her, spilling and twitching against her walls. She rode him out through it, as best she could with the way he clutched her to him, wanting him to feel every last scrap of pleasure.

Her own climax hit her like the snap of a bowstring. She found her arms clenching around his shoulders for balance, as if she might tumble away on the wave that rushed through her body.

Geraldus supported her firmly, sweet thing that he was, holding her tight despite the way his own limbs trembled.

After a while of him holding her straddled on his lap, the pressure between her legs turned to an ache. She stifled a wince as she shifted to slide off him. Even his softening length was a stretch for her tender and likely now bruised insides. She chided herself for riding him so enthusiastically before—she knew better than that.

As she began to pull away further, Geraldus clutched his arms tight around her back.

“We just need a towel,” she explained, turning to kiss the tip of his ear. “Did you think I was leaving?”

“No,” he lied, growing sheepish again, but his arms loosened to let her up.

She returned with a soft cloth for each of them. He reached for one, but she knelt beside the bed to neatly clean him. Even now, he was still too green to grasp exactly how this all worked.

And the mess between her own legs could wait; by now his release had already dripped out of her to generously coat her thighs.

Once they were both tidy, she rose to her feet and smoothed back a stray lock of his hair. “Would you like me to draw you a bath?”

Geraldus shook his head, looking up at her with sleepy affection.

“Would you like to go to bed, then?”

His eyes filled with innocent delight. “I can stay?”

She considered telling him that after the sum his keepers had no doubt paid, he could do a great many more things with her. But it might be nice to surprise him with that in the morning.

Instead, she raked her fingers through his hair and tilted his face up for a soft kiss. “Of course, darling.”

She moved on rather unsteady legs to snuff all the candles, then helped guide him under the covers through the dark.

When it came to sleeping, she didn’t usually care to share her bed with others. Tonight she found herself in an unusually generous mood. Geraldus was long-limbed and full of wiry muscle, yet every bit as gentle as a lamb.

As she settled herself under the blankets, he notched his face up against her shoulder and rested an arm securely across her middle. She leaned her cheek against his dark hair like a pillow. The feel of being weighed down by his body against her side was comforting in a way she didn’t expect.

“I love you,” Geraldus abruptly sighed against her neck.

She let out a sleepy breath of laughter that ruffled the locks of his hair.

“No you don’t,” she told him gently, and pressed a kiss to his brow. “You just really, really needed that.”

#nsft #bg3 geraldus #harper geraldus #bg3 smut #bg3 fanfic #bg3 spoilers #geraldus x oc #spicy

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