#i be sayin this every damn day | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jeansplaytoy · 5 months

Text

𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐥

part five.

conniexreader, smut, talks of not committing, weed, mild alcohol.

first of all, i’m sooo sorry to the people that was waiting for this, i know i took so mfn long to update 😣.

part four here | part six here

youn know exactly how you ended up how you were, but you did. still in connie’s room, lights were still low, but how’d you end up kissing him? and mumbling unknown things in his ear? you’d never know.

you could say you both were high, which you were, maybe you were still a little drunk, since you wasn’t mad about the situation earlier that night. but it was midnight now, and man did you want him. man did he want you.

“damn you smell good.” connie huffed quietly against your neck. you slowly nodded. “mhm..” you hummed back quietly. you couldn’t bare the feeling of wanting him so bad. you don’t know where it came from. he grabbed another blunt as you rubbed the back of his neck softly, your nails grazing his soft, dyed hair. it seemed as if it was growing fluffier than it was supposed to.

he lit the blunt and held it in his mouth for a few seconds before exhaling through his nose, and taking it out. “turn around ma. lemme show you sum.” he mumbled. you bit your lip and turned around, getting in just the right position for connie to mess with the waistband of your skirt a little before unzipping the side part, pulling it down.

“you like blue?” connie smiled a little, eyes already getting low from the second blunt. “a lil.” you lazily mumbled, feeling him run his hands down your waist, between your thighs to spread your legs a little further.

“me too.”

without any warning, other than him moving your already soaked panties to the side, you felt him slowly start to slide himself in, your eyes slightly widening at his size. “what the fuck..” you whispered while biting your lip.

“i almost forgot how big it was.” you mumbled, feeling him thrust himself slowly inside of you, stretching you out by the second. “i almost forgot how tight this shit was mama.” connie muttered back, taking another hit of the blunt before speeding up.

“mmh… yeah..” you let your eyes roll to the back of your head as connie continued to thrust his dick inside of you. “shittt…” you moaned softly, your face falling into the sheets and your hands almost hurting from the force you were gripping the sheets with.

“you like that? huh?” connie breathed out, grunting at every few hard thrusts, digging his nails into your hips. “you like the way we fuck, ma? hm?” he said in a low tone. you, practically overflowing with pleasure, could barely reply. “i.. ah..” you tried your best to speak.

connie then came to a stop. “come on pretty… i gotta hear yo whiney ass voice.” he chuckled a little, putting the blunt aside in the ashtray and focusing his attention merely on you. he put his hands back on your waist, rubbing over the soft scratches he caused.

“yeah.. mhm…” you finally managed to push out. “good.” connie said before finally starting to thrust into you again. “ha.. ugh… fuckkk..”

“damn i want you bad.”

too distracted to reply to comprehend what connie said, you nodded quickly. “mhm.. faster, please..” you softly moaned. that sent him over the edge. he started to fuck you faster, and harder. moans and grunts filled the room as connie pushed your back down a little more.

“i been thinking bout this pussy since the day we first fucked, ma…” he mumbled. you couldn’t even reply before your legs started to rapidly shake, nearly giving out. “fuck.. i hate you..” your brows furrowed as connie pulled out, panting.

“crazy, you was just sayin please.” he said under his breath while grabbing a shirt to clean you off. you rolled your eyes and stayed quiet for a moment, standing up.

“it ain’t mean nothing.” you said, fixing your clothes. “when you taking me home?” you sat back down and looked up at connie. “you ain’t staying?” connie frowned a little, tossing the shirt in the laundry basket. “you never said i could. and ion got no clothes.” you stared at him. he smacked his lips. “girl.” he opened a drawer and threw you one of his shirts.

“no pants.” you raised an eyebrow at him. connie frowned a little. “i just seen yo goodies— twice, and i can tell youn sleep in pants. you still drunk or sum?”

“is that supposed to be an insult, connie?” you squinted.

“why you sayin my name?”

“why you tryna insult me?”

“i’m not, y/n.”

you stared at connie again for a few seconds before rolling your eyes at him. “ion know which one of yo hoes you talk to like that, but ian one of em.”

he smiled a little at your statement. “you tryna act hard? ion got hoes.”

you took off your crop top and put connie’s shirt on. “nigga ian dumb. you expect me to believe im the only one you took home in this week?”

he stayed silent, staring at you, making you go silent too, almost nervous to speak. “you got a bad ass attitude problem.” he said while slowly shaking his head. “yo boyfriends don’t be telling you that?”

“no. they bitches.”

“i bet they is if they let you talk to them like that.”

you got quiet again. what was this boy doin to you? it’s like you never really had a man tell you what to do, let alone act like this.

“why you quiet now?” connie chuckled a little before laying across his bed. you smacked your lips. “cus i wanna be. don’t act like you did sum.” you crossed your arms and looked away.

connie laughed at your statement. “you funny as hell. you really ain’t never had one of yo boyfriends tell you what to do?”

“i’m not finna let a nigga tell me what to do.” you furrowed your eyebrows. connie opened his mouth to say something, but he stopped his self. it seemed like he was gonna say something more attacking.

“you still ain’t tell me bout that last relationship.” he said, turning over on his back. you crossed your legs and turned to him. “why you wanna know so bad?”

he just shrugged. “i like talking.”

you sighed longingly. that was the only way to pass time if you were gonna be here for the whole night. “he was a bitch, that’s all.”

connie rolled his eyes. “bruh, i know you can tell me more than that. what was he doin’?”

“i told you what he did. he was manipulative as hell and acted like sum was wrong wit’ his ass.” you looked at your nails. “and then he was cheating and stuff. ion like that.”

connie slowly nodded. “uh huh. how long was y’all together for?”

you laughed. “man. like what… a year? and then that’s when shit started going bad. like… five months ago was when we broke up, but he still be tryna stunt like we cool when i already told him we wasn’t getting cool again after all that shit he did.”

“you ain’t block him?”

“haven’t thought about it. i’m used to it now, but niggas get irritating after bothering you for a long time when you gotta constantly remind them you don’t want nothing to do wit’ em.”

“why you ain’t try to get wit’ nobody else? i mean i know you said sum bout how you don’t do relationships no more but still.” he tilted his head a little.

you raised your eyebrows. “ion like males no more. they annoying. no offense to you cus’ you chill. but it’s like… every time i get with one, they show me why i shouldn’t— the main reason why i broke up wit’ em.”

connie clicked his tongue and put his hands behind his head. “man… i just think you gotta give it some time. like you can’t hate every guy because the ones you be wit don’t treat you right. maybe that’s just ya type?” he pursed his lips together.

“maybe it is. i’m not patient when it comes to guys. like i want what you say you gon’ give me right away. i don’t know what it is.” you mumbled. “i guess i’m just used to when guys just automatically treat me with everything i want as soon as they get wit me. so when i get in a relationship that i have to wait and like… take the bare minimum and then get what i want, it’s weird.”

“so basically you sayin you so used to gettin what you want all the time, you can’t even do normal things in a relationship without wanting to get spoiled and shit?”

your eyes nearly widened at the realization that connie knew exactly what you were talking about. the way he bumped it down to such a smaller explanation. it’s like he simplified your thoughts without even trying.

you smiled softly with a slight frown, brushing your fingers through your braids. “that’s exactly what i was talkin bout.”

“i know what you mean. you too used to over the top shit and you can’t really have a normal relationship. that’s the way girls be doin me.” he slowly nodded, closing his eyes.

“you don’t like girls like that?” you slightly frowned.

“sum like that. ion like females that be tryna force me to do over the top shit. especially when we just got together or especially when they just wanna fuck wit the money. especially when i’m tryna be in a real relationship.”

you bit your lip a little and nodded.

“but i can tell you don’t do that on purpose so ain’t no hard feelings on you. you just needa be taught patience and shit. cus you ain’t hard for real.” connie scoffed. you raised a brow. “what you tryna say?” you tilted your head.

“girl you know you soft. i can see it in yo eyes, ma.” connie poked the center of your forehead.

you flicked his finger and hummed.

“i bet you can.”

i’m back after 10 light years. hope u liked.

tag: @laylasbunbunny , @iqzo

#aot x reader #connie springer #connie x reader #aot connie #connie x black reader #aot x black reader #connie springer x y/n #connie x reader smut #connie springer x reader #connie aot #connie x black y/n

275 notes · View notes

unfortunatebrainfarts · 2 months

Text

After working with your friendly neighborhood intergalactic space cowboy for quite some time, you've managed to become pretty damn good at understanding the gist of what he means to say

Boothill x reader

A/n: OK SO, first fanfic in like 6 years and it's for an intergalactic space cowboy

Tbh I have no idea why I wrote this, my ipad apps are constantly monitored by the teacher and I really have nothing better to do than go on my notes app and pretend I'm writing notes

HAVE AN AMAZING DAY = I HOPE YOU GET FUCKED BY THE IPC AND ROLL IN YOUR OWN DEBT AND SUFFERING (or something like that)

BLESS YOUR HEART = FUCK YOU

PRAY FOR ME = FUCK ME

LOVELY = FUCK

YOU WONDERFUL PERSON = YOU BITCH

Well ain't you just a sweetheart? = Well you're just a little bitchboy aren'tcha?

God love him = He was fuckin' underdeveloped as a fetus wasn't he (Something along the lines of 'he's dumb as shit')

"Hm. Seems about right."

To others, your furrowed brows, tense posture, and concentrated gaze at just one singular page of your notebook may make it seem as if whatever was on that page was something life changing. And honestly, they might as well have been right since you were one step closer to understanding what the hell Boothill was spitting out more than half the time.

You recall the first time you were assigned a mission with him — "BLESS YOUR HEART YOU WONDERFUL PERSON," cue you snapping your head towards the gruff voice seeing the cowboy in all his glory easily decimating the dozens of grunts in his vicinity with a toothy grin no less, which you note are very, very sharp.

His long, flowy hair caught your attention. How was it so white and clean even with all the fights you know gets into? Does it ever get yanked? What shampoo does he use?

"Now I don' mind some ooglin', but wouldn't ya say we should keep our eyes on our enemies darlin'?"

His voice snaps you out of your trance and you come to to a shovel nearing your head. You instinctively cover your face with your hands anticipating the pain, the pain which never came since when you put them down, you see that Boohill had already left a bullet in his head.

"Spacin' out at a space cowboy? Ain't that rich."

Ignoring the fact that he saved you from having to get facial reconstruction surgery, the reason you almost got a face full of shovel in the first place was because of the ridiculous curse on his synesthesia beacon.

That's why you've been devoted to trying to decode the albeit hilarious, rather inconvenient in a battle things he says. You've tried asking Boothill to write them down, but his handwriting could have him assigned as a doctor in no time so you gave up on that idea quite quickly.

"Whatcha starin' at so intently darlin'?

Your train of thought was abruptly interrupted by the man of the hour mindlessly snatching your notebook right out of your hands. "Aren't you supposed to stop thieves, not act like one," you ask half heartedly. It was nothing less of what you'd expect from Boothill of all people — no, cyborgs??

"Heh, this ain't thievery 's sharin'! Er, what's that one sayin' again... share to care, care to share, sharin' to carin'? Eh whatever ya get what I mean don'tcha sugar?" He retorted, you roll your eyes mentally as he put his focus back onto the notebook. To be honest you were surprised he could even read considering his handwriting was that bad.

As Boothill read each and every one of your 'translations', his grin only grew wider and wider showing the spiky teeth you don't know how are natural but have grown accustomed to seeing. Just then, a burst of unhinged laughter randomly filled the entire lounge room you were sitting in. The weird glances and whispering were already starting but Boothill didn't care, he was Boothill.

Not wanting to be associated with the man at that very moment, you stand up to leave him comically rolling on the floor. However, you couldn't even do that because the moment you stood up, Boothill snatched your leg and dragged it so that you would fall back down. This time, onto the floor with him. "Well ain't you something sweetcheeks, ya got me alll figured out huh?" .

It's been two months. Ever since Boothill realized that you had actually tried to figure out the true meaning behind his words — and actually got them relatively right — he's been using you to spew out insults overtime. Honestly it was like you had become a pokemon, you could just picture it in your head.

BOOTHILL BROUGHT OUT ____

____ USED SWEAR! IT WAS SUPER EFFECTIVE

Either way, it wasn't that bad since though you might be imagining things, it feels as if you've grown ever so slightly closer to the eccentric space cowboy.

You continue to observe boothill and add more and more onto your list of translations, but apparently you fail to notice that he no longer uses any casual pet names like 'darling' or 'sweetcheeks' anymore. At least, not for anyone but you.

#I'm actually gonna krill myself😭#please ignore any mistakes or awkward parts I wrote this in 30 minutes #you can tell I can't write any southern stuff I literally had to search up 'cowboy insults' and 'how to speak like a cowboy'#li actually writes🤯#boothill x reader #hsr x reader #boothill hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail

289 notes · View notes

reaveries · 1 year

Text

▬ a warm place for numb fingers (18+)

summary: after a conversation with a friend, tension arises between the reader and arthur. action is ultimately forced into her hands... or fingers, more like.

pairings: high honor!arthur morgan x female!reader

warnings: mature content (18+)// explicit descriptions of fingering, cunnilingus, and some good ol' fucking

word count: 5.7k (estimated 23-minute reading time)

a/n: this goes out to all the cold and horny girls out there. i see you and i salute you. enjoy the fic

masterlist archive of our own

The chill was an inescapable thing and it followed her closely wherever she went. It burned her face red whenever she emerged from the mining town cabins. When she’d been forced to ride against it in fierce storms, it possessed her hair to lash violently across her cheeks in a blinding fury. And once those storms passed, it continued to insatiably lap at any skin left exposed to its gnawing teeth. Numbness in her fingertips became commonplace, leaving her defenseless as her trigger finger trembled beneath thin leather gloves. Like a starved coyote, the chill searched for any scrap of flesh it could find and devoured it to the bone. It wasn’t forgiving, as nature often isn’t.

She draws her coat closer to her body now, but the little winds continue to hungrily nip at her cheeks and dust them pink. What once ravaged her has become meek since they’ve descended the peaks of the Grizzlies. But it’s still there, and will continue to be until spring thaws the world.

“Can’t believe I’m lookin’ at one of the most wanted outlaws this side of the Dakota.”

She looks up from her feet and sees Karen smiling, holding a cigarette between her fingers. She brings it to her lips and draws out the smoke.

“God, if the Pinkertons knew how big of a baby you really are, maybe they’d have tried their luck in Colter,” she says with a cheeky grin.

“That’s the only way those fuckers could’ve taken me down,” the outlaw says, laughing bitterly into her scarf. “I’ve never done well in the cold. Every day that I wake up and can’t feel my toes, I’m closer to packing up and fleeing to New Austin. Thinking of building myself a house made of cacti.”

She walks through the frost-laden grass to where her friend stands, overlooking the Dakota river.

“You’re fulla shit,” Karen says, rolling her eyes. “The day you leave this bunch will be the day God, himself, shoots you off your horse. Got too much love in your little heart for the lot of us.”

The woman chuckles dryly, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Got too much love for you, Karen,” she says in a sickeningly sweet tone and leans in, tilting her head dramatically to the side as if to give her a sloppy kiss.

“Get the hell away from me!” Karen screeches and fumbles to push her away.

The outlaw stumbles backward lazily with her head thrown back in laughter.

“You play around too much, you know that?” Karen says, shaking her head, but the forceful tug on the right side of her lips gives her away.

She smiles down her nose at the blonde woman, “Yeah, that’s what I keep hearin’.”

Once they both settle down, Karen extends the cigarette to her, offering whatever she can manage as it quickly dies out. She takes it between her forefinger and thumb and lets the smoke warm her from the inside.

“You know what I overheard some of the workin’ girls sayin’ when I was in town?” Karen speaks up as the smoke escapes the woman’s throat.

She hums in question. Words out of the mouth of a working girl can hardly ever be taken for truth, but damn if they weren’t entertaining.

“Apparently, the number of clients they get skyrockets in the winter months. Somethin’ about men subconsciously wantin’ to be warmed up so they seek out activities that make ‘em break a sweat.”

She nods, “I guess that makes enough sense.”

Karen shakes her head, “That’s not all. The girls were also sayin’ that as it gets colder, the men are more and more riled up. Almost like it’s something with the moon, but instead of turnin’ into the dogman, they just wanna bury themselves in a woman real bad. But all I’m hearin’ while these girls are sayin’ this is that we got ourselves a bunch of fools too dumb to think clearly down in that little town.”

She stomps the life out of the cigarette with the toe of her boot, her spurs jingling as she drives it into the dirt.

“Ain’t no way that’s true,” she says with a sardonic smile. “That last part, sure, but the moon’s got nothin’ to do with it.”

“Well, somethin’s gotta explain it,” Karen says and crosses her arms defensively across her chest. “I can tell ya, once it gets colder the men start lookin’ at ya different. I never noticed the link ‘till now but it kinda makes sense.”

She has to fight the laugh rising in her chest as she tries to seriously process the idea that men are becoming more aroused due to a giant orb in the sky. It takes everything in her not to but Karen sees right through her.

“It ain’t that ridiculous, you know. You can’t tell me you ain’t never noticed Arthur actin’ different.”

The amusement rapidly drains from her face and is replaced by a look of bewilderment.

“What are you talkin’ about Arthur for? Arthur and I are just friends, we ain’t like that,” she sputters out.

“Oh, sorry,” Karen says, putting her hands up, “I forgot you was still on that.”

Her flustered reaction surprises even herself, causing a creeping warmth to crawl its way to her cheeks. A biting retort fumbles dumbly in her mouth.

“I’m not on anything. Don’t know what got in your head but it ain’t never been like that between Arthur and me.”

“It ain’t just in my head, honey. Everyone here knows it. You think folk ain’t seein’ the way you two touch up on each other the way you do? How neither of you goes nowhere without the other? Get real. It’s plain as day to everyone but yourself.”

She tosses a quick glance over her shoulder, hoping no one is near enough to hear their conversation. Instead, she sees that the camp has slowly come to life while she’d been distracted by Karen. Folk have begun their morning chores, migrating from washboards to clothing lines or splitting logs of wood in two. Her eyes flit across their faces until they land on the one she’s searching for. He’s far enough away, speaking with Pearson by the food supplies wagon. The cook waves his hands around animatedly but he’s turned away from her so she can’t tell what they’re speaking about. Arthur looks past the man and meets her eyes. He smiles and nods at her, to which she returns with a forced thin smile of her own.

“You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, Karen,” she mutters, and without turning to say goodbye, walks away.

And yet, Karen’s words burrow themselves deep within her mind and linger in the spaces between each normal thought as the day continues. Surely she'd been exaggerating and not everyone in camp suspects her and Arthur to be intimate with each other. Karen just thinks she knows more than she does sometimes. It was very much like her to be overly confident about certain things, proclaiming them as fact even past the point she knows she’s wrong. Then again, that also wasn't the first time someone had mistaken their closeness for something more amorous in nature. Dutch, having watched her throw an arm around Arthur and share from his bottle, assumed the pair had made themselves official. This prompted some proud fatherly spiel wherein he clapped Arthur on the back and congratulated him. It was vague enough that neither of them knew what he was referring to until later. Once they both realized, it gave them a good doubled-over, tears-from-the-eyes sort of laugh. But Arthur quickly cleared it up with the man, assuring him that there was nothing of that sort going on. Apparently, Dutch remained unconvinced.

As she sharpens her knife, an interesting thought intrudes past the others. For a moment, she wonders if Arthur might be an exception to this phenomenon the working girls were talking about. He never spoke of women the way that most men did. So, if he’d ever been interested in that sort of way, she wasn’t privy to it in the slightest. But, he’s still a man and he isn’t immune to the desires of men. Could it be possible that Arthur wishes for a woman to warm his bed at night? Or perhaps, on the coldest nights, a woman to warm himself inside?

Her blade slips against the whetstone and nearly slices her hand open as depraved imagery flies behind her eyes. She curses loudly and the knife drops to the dirt with a muffled thud.

A horse gallops and skids next to the hitching post beside her and the rider quickly flies off the mount, hitting the earth with heavy feet. She looks up from her hand and it’s him. There’s a pristine buck carcass flung over the back of his mare from a hunting excursion he must be returning from.

“You alright?” He asks in a raised voice, meeting her with a walk that holds no patience. He looks down at her hands, likely expecting to see them covered in blood. His shoulders drop in relief when he can’t find any.

“I’m fine,” she says, standing up quickly and brushing dust off her pants. She forcefully clears her head of the intrusive thoughts, worried he might be able to see them if he looks too close.

“You nearly gave me a heart attack, woman. Don’t know what I’d do if you went and chopped off your trigger finger,” he says, running a stressed hand through his hair.

“You’d have to find a new riding partner, that’s for sure,” she quips unenthusiastically.

A breath of laughter leaves his lips to tell her she’s being ridiculous.

“Naw… There ain’t no replacin’ you. Ain’t a single person here has what it takes to put up with half the shit you and I do. We’d just have to teach ya to shoot with four fingers.”

His tone is lighthearted but there’s a hint of sincerity to his words that makes her cock her head in intrigue. He notices the change in her expression and quickly backpedals.

“Ah, don’t let that get to your head, now! I can barely tolerate ya most days. There’s just… no denyin’ you’re one of the best shots here,” he says, avoiding her eyes.

She smiles smugly and pats his chest.

“Tell me something I don’t know, cowboy.”

“Like I said, I can barely tolerate ya,” he says, swatting her hand off him. “Anyways, you mind takin’ that buck to Pearson? I need to have a word with Dutch about tomorrow.”

“Sure thing,” she says and slips past him to retrieve the fresh game.

She hoists the buck over her shoulder and nearly gasps from the unexpected weight. The animal is nowhere near light and it’s a wonder he managed to cleanly take down the thing. He looks over his shoulder at the sound of her boot scuffling in the dirt as she steadies herself.

She stumbles over to Pearson’s wagon and throws the carcass down on the ground. The cook is nowhere to be found so she figures she’ll save him the trouble and put her sharpened blade to good use. The knife cuts cleanly through the skin like warm butter, separating the hide from tender pink insides. As she’s making the final incisions, she looks up from the gruesome sight and sees Arthur talking to Dutch outside his tent. He seems relaxed enough, his hands resting on the buckle of his gun belt while he talks. It’s something he does often, just like someone might stuff their hands in their pockets for the sake of keeping them occupied. An endearing little action. And yet, for some reason, the common and utterly insignificant act of him doing this makes her forget herself.

Maybe it’s the suggestion of him holding a different object hidden beneath the confines of denim, right below his loose grip. Because the longer she looks, a vision of him taking himself into a fisted hand begins to overshadow her mind. He’s lying in his cot, and while everyone else huddles together for warmth in their makeshift beds, he’s fucking his hand in the darkness of his tent. His eyes are screwed shut and his mouth is parted slightly, but no noise escapes his lips to save himself the mortification of someone walking past and overhearing. He quickens the pace of his pumping hand and breathes out a quiet, ragged moan as he coats his stomach with ropes of sticky seed. His chest heaves, then slows to normal before he wipes the evidence away with a worn shirt.

Arthur looks at her with a confused look on his face. He waves a hand slowly in mock greeting to rouse her from her dazed state. Dutch, mid-sentence, turns to look over his shoulder, but she averts her eyes before they can meet his.

“Holy shit,” she whispers. She frantically finishes skinning the deer with her chin to her chest to hide the furious blush tormenting her cheeks.

Once she’s finished, she practically sprints back to her tent before Arthur can ask her what her deal is. She closes the flaps hastily and goes to sit on the edge of her bed to collect herself.

It’s not like she’s never fantasized about a person before, and she’s taken people to her bed more times than she can remember. This flustered feeling isn’t rooted in some virgin-like innocence, and yet she might as well be a pastor’s daughter with the way she’s blushing over it.

It’s because it’s him. He’s her partner. Her friend. Someone who’s grown to understand her better than she understands herself. She’s been the same person for him ever since they crossed paths in Montana all those months ago. Many feelings, albeit platonic, have come and gone since that fateful encounter, but lust? Lusting after a friend may be the most foreign feeling she’s stumbled upon in all her years of living.

A griminess so thick and so palpable enshrouds her, weighing heavily, filthily, on her skin. And there’s only one solution that comes to mind.

She straddles the firmness between her thighs as it bounces rhythmically beneath her. A moan unintentionally escapes her lips in response to the merciless feeling down below. Her blouse sticks to damp skin and plasters itself lewdly against the curves of her stomach and chest as her hips rock back and forth. Another moan. This one more pained than the last.

Her thighs have always burned something fierce whenever she’d mount her horse directly after a bath. Soft, herbal-scented skin would grate against thick cotton of riding trousers, eliciting the pained gritting of teeth. But this time, the minor uncomfortable sensation is preferable, simple, compared to the complexities of her consuming thoughts from earlier. A hot bath was her saving grace as it turned out. It cleared her head and made her feel like her normal self again. Whatever thoughts she’d been having of her partner had been washed away and left behind at the bottom of the steel tub like some tainted baptism.

She rides through the trees that fringe the perimeter of camp and calls out to Javier, who stands guarding the entrance. He gives her a short wave, and nothing else. The two of them haven’t talked much, despite having ridden together for over a year now. Most of the men in camp tend to keep to themselves, she’s noticed. It’s a shame the talkative Irish man went and got himself killed in Blackwater. He knew how to have a good time. He always claimed the two of them were kindred spirits, but she heavily denied it each time since it read like an insult.

She swings herself off the saddle and, like a moth to a lantern, migrates toward the fire to warm herself. The sun has sunk beneath the horizon and with it any amount of heat it provided, leaving her a shivering mess. Dinner bubbles inside the stew pot, prompting her to grab a portion before taking a seat on one of the logs.

The fire is reduced to glowing embers that do little to warm her bones. She nudges the logs with her boot but they just shift and plume ash. Sighing, she tugs closed the lapels of her coat and brings a spoonful of venison stew to her lips. The steaming broth slides down her throat and settles in her belly, making a furnace of her stomach. It’s a nice feeling, one that quiets her mind.

Suddenly, the log shifts as someone sits beside her.

“Where’d you disappear off to?” He asks. “I couldn’t find ya anywhere.”

Arthur settles to sit hunched over with his elbows resting on his knees, a bowl of stew in his hands. He’s wearing a dark long-sleeve shirt and a light jacket, but not much else to protect him from the cold. In fact, when she looks around, no one else seems to mind the chill as much as she does. Maybe Karen was right in calling her a baby.

“Nowhere special. I just had to go into town for a bit,” she says, taking another sip of the stew.

He nods his head, “Had to go into town and get yerself a bath, huh?”

She turns sharply to look at him, her brows drawn together in confusion.

“I could smell the lavender oil the minute ya hitched yer horse,” he explains. “What’s that about? Are ya plannin’ on finally actin’ like a lady or somethin’?”

She shoves his shoulder with her free hand.

“Shut up Arthur. You act more like a lady than I do,” she accuses. “Also, it might do ya good to take a bath for once.”

That last part she says a little lower than the first. Sometimes when they’d be out on extended errands they’d bathe in the river together. But no matter how much he scrubbed his skin, the stench of cigarette smoke and sweat would linger in the closed tent when she lay beside him in her bedroll at night. She always put up with it though because it likely meant she didn’t smell much better.

“The hell’s that s’posed to mean?” He asks, looking visibly taken aback.

“It means you smell like—”

“Naw, not that. Whatchu mean I act like a lady?”

“Oh. It means you’re goin’ all soft, big guy. Take it as a compliment,” she says, trying to suppress a smile.

“Great. First Dutch, now you. I ain’t goin’ soft, girl. And I sure as hell ain’t turnin’ into a woman,” he says, looking away from her and shaking his head. “As if you even knew what it meant to be one. Look at yerself!” He adds with an indignant wave of his hand that gestures from the top of her head to her feet.

She doesn’t need to look. Her coat is crafted from bear and bison pelts, made to fit a man larger than herself because the trapper lacked the expertise to tailor one for a woman. It keeps her warm enough, which is all that should matter. Wearing clothes that flatter her figure ranks relatively low on her list of priorities when every day is a fight to not freeze to death. On top of that, folk have always been mighty eager to remind her of her femininity whenever she dared step outside the docile role of her fairer sex. Which, in her line of work, was often.

“I’ll have you know I consider myself an expert on the matter… ma’am.”

She starts to snicker but when she looks over at him his jaw is set and he’s giving her a side-eye that makes the noise die in her throat.

“Keep callin’ me a lady and see where it gets ya, woman. Y’ain’t gonna be laughin’ when I’m forced to prove myself to ya.”

If there was ever any heat being produced in her body, it's all gone and rushed to her face just now. She stares at him, unblinking.

“What?”

“Mm, s’what I thought,” he says, bringing a spoon of potatoes and broth to his lips. “Now, if you’re done foolin’ around, are you comin’ with us tomorrow or not? Dutch said you might but I know you’ve got a lot on your plate as is.”

He said he’d prove himself to her. Prove that he’s a man. There’s hardly any innocent way to interpret that.

“Tomorrow?” She asks. “What’s happening tomorrow?”

He looks at her all funny-like, slightly annoyed even.

“Did you drink the bathwater or somethin’? The O’Driscoll told us they was all holed up in some cabin not far from here. Mentioned Colm is with’em. I only told ya about it a handful of times.”

She hears him but isn’t really listening. The phrase repeats on a loop in her head. She wants to ask him what he meant by it but the moment’s passed and she knows there’s no real answer. If asked, he’d just say he was teasing her and there’s nothing more to it.

He calls her name, bringing her out of her stupor. She opens her mouth to say something but the wind picks up. A bone-rattling shiver possesses her, making her shrink inside herself. He stares at her, unphased by the chill but with concern etched into his handsome features.

“Sorry, Arthur. I- I don’t know where my head’s at,” she says through clenched teeth.

“S’Alright,” he says, looking her over. “I forget how sensitive you are to the cold.”

He sets his bowl on the ground and brings his hands to cup around his mouth, heating them with hot breath. He then takes her hands into his and clamps around them, transferring warmth to numb fingers.

“Jesus, you’re freezin’,” he says.

He brings her hands close to his mouth and repeats the same action, trying to warm them back to life with his breath. He presses into her palms, massaging heat from the pads of his fingers into hers.

Had he done this simple gesture for her yesterday, she likely would’ve just felt grateful to feel her fingers again. But today isn’t like yesterday. Yesterday, she wasn’t acutely aware of the ever-present moisture nearly dripping down her thighs or the dull, aching pain at her core as it practically begs to be filled by a man. Yesterday, she didn’t envision that man to be Arthur. She didn’t envision herself blissed out and bouncing on his cock, being guided by his hands gripping her ass and forcing her all the way down on him every time. She also didn’t visualize their sweating naked bodies pressed against one another as he hoists her legs around his waist and fucks her relentlessly against the side of his wagon. Yesterday was, without a doubt, much easier than today. Today she’d thought of all these things and more.

She watches attentively how he holds her slender fingers in the thickness of his own. Those hands have snuffed out the lives of many, brutally at that. She’d seen them wrapped around the necks of men, crushing their windpipes and severing their spines when he’d been provoked on the wrong sort of day. Lots of blood on those hands. But there’s just as much on hers and in this moment, those blooded hands are so tender towards her.

If these same hands could kill without remorse, yet be so gentle when the time came for it, then by God, what else were they capable of?

She slips her hands out of his faster than she intended to.

“Thank you, Arthur,” she whispers, looking away.

“Sure. Maybe that’ll help ya to start actin’ normal again. Get the blood flowin’ to yer brain and such.”

If only he knew it was doing the opposite. Blood is flowing elsewhere and she’s the furthest from normal she’s been in a long while.

She stands up, leaving the bowl of stew unfinished on the ground.

“Here’s hoping,” she says, her hands clasped together to preserve his heat.

Her boots crunch ice-bitten dirt loudly beneath their heels as she makes her way through the quiet camp and to her tent. She doesn’t realize she’s holding her breath until the flaps close shut behind her.

“What… What is wrong with you?” she asks no one. Her tent is empty, and even though she wants to be alone, this is no comfort.

Her palms dig into the concave of her eye sockets, rubbing them furiously to wake herself up. She groans and shrugs off her coat, letting it collapse onto the floor. Her boots are kicked off her feet and her shirt is made quick work of before it’s thrown violently across the room. Her pants meet the same fate, being unbuttoned and kicked off, then kicked again so they lie atop the other garments. She collides with her mattress in a huff and lies there to stare at the ceiling of her tent, chest rising and falling rapidly.

She’s not going to be laughing when he’s forced to prove himself to her.

Why is that phrase repeating over and over in her head? More importantly, why is she closing her eyes and slipping her hand beneath the waistband of her combinations?

She pauses. It’s wrong to do this. So wrong. To touch herself with visions of him in her head is sick. But she needs it so badly, so desperately she needs this to be taken care of. The throbbing at her core ultimately wins over her conscience, and forcefully pushes guilt to the side.

Her fingers slide between the delicate folds down below, the slick moisture coating her digits easily. She imagines it’s his hand. Large and warm, playing with her and teasing out moans by dancing around her clit. He asks her if it feels good, but only incoherent noises leave her lips.

He chuckles and the breath of his laughter hits her center as he dips his head between her thighs. Lips replace fingers, sucking and leaving open-mouthed kisses heavy with tongue, ravishing her like a starved man. Her thighs clench around him and her calves tremble against his bare back. She whispers praises to him when she can find the words.

Please keep going. You’re doing so good. So good.

Both of her hands tangle themselves in his hair. She can’t help but pull on the strands the minute he slides his thumb inside her all the way to the knuckle. Her back arches off the cot at the sudden sensation but he pulls her back down, locking her in with a hand wrapped around her thigh. She can feel him smile against her, momentarily letting up the relentless forces of his mouth. He’s loving watching her squirm beneath him, because of him.

But the combined sensation of his thumb fucking her and the concentrated movements of his tongue at her clit nearly drive her to the edge. She squirms and brings her knees up around him, causing him to pull away and leave her empty.

Ya have to keep still, darlin’.

He coaxes her legs back open, spreading them apart with firm hands. But before he can return, she whispers desperate words that fall sweetly on his ears. He changes direction and begins to kiss his way north, traces of her still on his lips as they press wetly to her stomach, then her breasts, and then her neck. While he trails up her jaw, she tugs down his union suit from where it gathers at his hips. He assists her clumsily by shaking it off his legs and kicking it to the floor, where it now lies atop her own discarded clothing.

Before he takes her, he hovers on rested elbows and searches her face for any sign of reluctance. Only half of his features she can see clearly as warm oranges and yellows flicker across it from the lantern at her bedside. The fringe of his hair tickles her forehead, teasing her into closing the distance between them. With a hand on the back of his neck, she brings him down to her level and connects their lips. Their mouths move roughly against one another, their noses squishing and bending against the pressure of their touch.

He’s warm, so warm. His mouth is hot against her tongue and the points on her body where the two of them meet are ablaze with a fire that spreads down, and down, until it rests in a sweltering mess at the apex of her thighs. She needs him, were the words she’d whispered. And she needs him now. She reaches down between their two bodies to where his cock grazes against her legs and with a sure hand, takes hold of it and guides it to her entrance. She can’t see it but it feels thick in her grasp; her hold not permitting thumb and forefinger to meet.

The head slips gently inside and opens her up to him with a slow, shallow movement of his hips. He removes his lips from hers and rests his forehead against her own, looking down and indulgently watching himself disappear inside of her inch by inch. It fills her deliciously, stretching her open until he eventually bottoms out and their pelvises lie flush with one another. She lets out a sharp exhale at the contact, knowing he’s sheathed fully inside of her. Before he moves again, she brings her legs around his waist and crosses her ankles so his movements are limited to being shallow and forceful.

The cot squeaks beneath them as he pulls out and thrusts back in, slow at first. He quickly picks up the pace, pistoling his hips to give short thrusts that fill her to the hilt each time with a near-bruising force. One hand wraps around the meat of her thigh and another hand starts rubbing furious circles at her clit. She throws her head back with a wide-opened gasp at the explosive euphoric sensation of being filled by him and the simultaneous attention given to the sensitive nub. He goes even faster when he sees how close she is, and within seconds she unravels beneath him.

She notices through her clouded gaze his brows screwing together and lips parting as her soft muscles throb around the swell of his cock. It’s too much for him. He hurriedly pulls out and releases himself on her belly, coating it with spurts of his seed. He looks at her breathlessly through hooded eyes.

The two of them lie panting, him still stationed between her legs with a heaving chest and weary gaze. He leans down and places a chaste kiss on the inside of her thigh before slumping beside her and laying there in his nakedness.

She cums hard against diligent fingers. Hot and tingly ecstacy spreads from her core throughout her limbs, fluttering her eyes to the back of her skull and leaving her a panting mess. Once that passes and the drowsiness that always follows a dumbing climax sets in, she realizes she’d conjured a strange ending to her fantasy. It was one of genuine intimacy, not driven by the carnal desires of her body.

Thankfully, sleep takes over before she can begin trying to process whatever that means. She drifts off as remnants of pleasure buzz beneath her skin and warm her beneath ticking sheets.

Morning comes quickly, and the accompanying chill of a new day forces her off the cot in search of heavier clothing. She pulls fleece-lined chaps over jeans and buttons them at the waist before throwing on the bear coat she’s worn every day since Colter. As she slips her arms into the clothing, she thinks back on last night. There’s no reason to make a big deal of it. Surely men get off with much worse ideas in their heads about the people they know. She hopes all of that is behind her now that it’s been forced out of her system.

But this is not the case.

This hope is massacred in vain shortly after being conceived. For the day is ablaze with yearning, shame, and raging inferno.

Accompanying Arthur to the hideout was soon realized as a mistake. Every small, inconsequential thing he did served to stoke the fire blistering her loins. Every word whispered atop the secluded hillock, every incidental brushing of skin, and every intentional one too. It all fanned incessantly at consuming flames.

She rides back to camp alone with heavy pockets and a heavier conscience. And as she approaches the grounds, she sees her friend, the blonde woman, standing guard outside. Without thought, she throws her reins and swings herself off the horse, hitting the earth hard and swift. A blustering storm brews inside her, fighting against fire and losing. She approaches Karen, treading heavily over branch and stone, a wild look in her eyes.

“Karen!” She calls out.

The woman turns to face her, her rifle lowering just as quickly as it’s raised.

“Oh, it’s just you. You here to tell me I don’t know what I’m talkin’ about again? If so, you can keep on walkin’, bigshot.”

She sighs and runs a frustrated hand through her wind-tangled hair.

“No! No, I- I didn’t mean it,” she says, with an unmistakable sound of desperation in her voice. “Karen, you were right.”

Karen’s tensed shoulders sink beneath her coat and her features soften. She doesn’t seem to understand, but she’s no longer angry. It’s difficult to be when her friend stands before her, uncharacteristically vulnerable and fumbling with words.

Whatever forces are at work here, be it the chill, the moon, or an unknown third thing, it can be certain she is out of her depth, adrift in deep ice waters. And he is calling to her like a siren’s song but she knows it is an illusion she has conjured up and there is no solace allowed to be found there. He cannot take her like she needs so deeply to be taken by him. It would ruin them, for certain. Because they are not a wholesome people, and despite that, their bond has been forged by goodness. Something like that is uncommon for folk like themselves. It should be held closely, protected from whatever may destroy it, even if it is from herself. It’s for that reason she withdraws her hand, rides alone, averts wandering eyes, and tries her utmost best to quench the flames.

And yet, it has been only a day.

“You were right.”

#red dead redemption 2 fanfic #red dead redemption 2 x reader #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #rdr #rdr2 fic #rdr2 x reader #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur x reader #smut #rdr2 smut #red dead redemption smut #arthur morgan x reader smut

2K notes · View notes

skxllz · 5 months

Note

Hey... i'm in desperate need of some more Ian and Mickey x reader.. ilysm btw

baby ily too, here you go <3

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

male! reader

“ why the fuck are you starin’ at me like that? ” mickey's voice rang out on the other end of the phone. the signal was icky, so the crinkling of static could be heard through the line.

your fingers pressed to your lips to hold back your laughter. “ I'm not staring at you like anything. ” you heard ian reply - it sounded as if he rolled his eyes, too, just by the tone of his voice.

these two drama kings were always fightin’. even in jail, the two just wouldn't stop. but i mean, I guess that's more than likely to happen since they're in each other's presence every second of the day.

“ yeah the fuck you are, ” mickey accused again, this time scoffing. “ you gonna’ come over here or what? y/n's on the phone. ”

“ no shit, sherlock. I heard ‘im. ”

“ do you want me to bust you in the mouth? ”

“ there will be no busting anyone in the mouth. ” you sighed, rolling your own eyes. that seemed to catch both of their attention, because you heard shuffling —and mickey and ian slightly bickering— before ian's voice met the phone.

“ hey, gorgeous. ” his breathy tone met your ear, causing you to instantly melt. mickey and ian both always had an effect on you, but the red head had ways of making you gush like no other.

“ hiiiii... ” you slowly, shyly replied; trying not to giggle like a school girl while you rolled onto your stomach. you were lying on your bed, legs bent and kicking in the air. “ how's it goin’, i’ ? ”

ian chuckled dryly — and you heard more shuffling, probably him moving the phone to his other ear, before he replied. “ shitty. the guard's here are a pain in m’ass. ”

“ you can say that again! ” the familiar brunette shouted. you heard a bang after that — sounded like something hit the bars of the cell.

furrowing your brows as you heard ian yell, worry clouded your brian. “ what was that? ”

a huff from ian could be heard after a moment of silence. “ fucking— my god, mickey kicked the cell bars to piss off our guard. damn asshole. ”

“ I'm not an asshole — you're an asshole! ”

“ will you two stop? ” you pinched the bridge of your nose, squeezing your eyes shut in irritance. “ you're gonna’ get in trouble. ”

“ already ha— ” a scraping sound and more static cut ian off from finishing his sentence. skin on skin contact was hard, like a slap, and then mickey's voice rang out from the other line again.

“ I'm back. ” he sounded smug. ian could be heard muttering swear words. “ what, uh— ” you could only picture him biting his lip right about now. “ whaddya’ doing? ”

your brows raised in light amusement — releasing the hold you had on your nose, only to slide your fingers down your face and chuckle. “ nothin’. talkin’ to you two dummies. ”

“ I'm a dummy? ” mickey scoffed. “ you wouldn't be sayin’ that shit if I was there, sweet cheeks. ”

you bit your bottom lip, cheeks pinkening at the suggestive threat. “ uh huh, an’ why's that? ”

it was clear mickey was now wearing a shit eating grin by the way he responded. “ your mouth would be too full swallowin’ my cock. ”

aaaaand you were red. curling your fingers closed, pressing them to your lips. it was hard not to squeal — but you were sure as hell curling your toes and kicking your legs excitedly. mickey preferred to bottom, as did you, but when he did top, it was beyond hot.

you were going to reply, but then you heard something over the intercom in the background. it was difficult to make out, the words sounded muffled — but by mickey groaning, you knew it wasn't good.

“ fuck.. ” he muttered.

“ what is it? ” you were concerned again; now worried that something had happened.

mickey sighed, passing the phone to ian. he now had a halfy — a growing erection to deal with, and couldn't speak to you since he was pissed, so he'd let ian deliver the news.

ian greeted you with a sigh, “ we gotta’ go, pumpkin. some stupid ass got us goin’ on a lockdown. probably an idiot that attacked a guard. ”

that made you frown. you had barely been on the phone with them for six minutes — you usually got fifteen. “ seriously? that fucking blows.. ”

a small laugh escaped ian. you could only imagine his pretty smile. “ I know, I know... ‘m sorry. we'll be home soon though, okay? ”

you huffed, “ yeah... okay. I just miss you. ”

“ we miss you, too... ” ian sighed. if anything, he was probably trying not to get too sappy over the phone. god only knows how emotional he can get with you. “ I love you, pretty boy. stay good for us, okay? ”

a smile lifted to your lips — hand sliding up your cheeks, only to lean on it and nod into your palm. “ I love you, too.. and I will. tell mick’ I love ‘im. ”

ian huffed a smile, “ I will. goodbye, y/n. ”

“ bye bye, i’. ”

#ask skullz #shameless #shameless x reader #ian gallagher x reader #ian gallagher #ian x mickey #mickey milkovich x reader #mickey milkovich #shameless us

301 notes · View notes

libraryscarf · 1 year

Text

the signs as quotes from goncharov (1973)

aries: "somebody's gotta fix this fuckin' clock, every god damn day it's clickin' and fussin' and layin' eggs, i'm sayin' you can't get a good timepiece 'round these parts..." (mario monologues for several more minutes on neapolitan clocks)

taurus: "i wouldn't let my dog eat the scraps from your table." "then at least have the good manners to take yourself and your dog around the corner so i don't have to watch you die."

gemini: "i need to put on better lipstick before responding to any of these lies."

cancer: (over the telephone) "the priest isn't coming. ...yeah. yeah, he heard about the atrocities."

leo: "you promised me...you promised me this plan could still work." "that was before you shot me. twice."

virgo: (uttered while using a broken heel to pick the boathouse lock, with a totality of hate) "this one is for you, you dead, sick, son-of-a-bitch."

libra: "the good turn rich. the rich turn bad. the bad turn dead, and the dead turn up again asking for your loose change."

scorpio: "we should obviously begin with the knife."

sagittarius: "the signs were there from the beginning, sofia. you knew, and you held them up before me and i shut my eyes."

capricorn: "whom will you haunt, goncharov?" "you, andrey, if i have my pick. myself, if i do not."

aquarius: "katya is not the sort of person to permit herself to be held close and whispered sweet nothings to. she's the sort of person to keep at a cautious but accessible arm's reach and addressed only in matters of dire emergency, when all hope has been lost. rather like an ancient idol, if you think about it." "dear god, man, it's no wonder your marriage is on the brink of ruin."

pisces: "bad news boss. he's got a second fucking ice pick."

#scarfwrites #a bunch of sparks are going off in my brain in regards to this movie #these are of....dubious quality #goncharov

3K notes · View notes

all444miles · 10 months

Note

Hiii, I just saw that you were doing requests so I was wondering if you could do e-42 miles with black readers hair? Like helping her pick out different braiding and natural styles, maybe some wash day headcanons as well?

— TOUCH MY HAIR

— pairing: e-42 miles x fem!black!reader — genre: fluff — summary: just miles loving you and your hair ‹3 — a/n: tyyyy for this req, i am squealing rn + i alr had this idea in my prompt list but u gave me a reason to start it !! ‹3 my hcs always got miles saying sum outta pocket then the reader calls him out then he goes “my fault”, its a lil funny motif ima keep on adding 😭 also the n word is used a bit in this, js sayin!! enjoy ♡ ᖭི(ˊᗜˋ*)ᖫྀ

we all know n we've established this, miles is more than happy to pay for ur shit, esp if its your hair.

he wouldn't think twice before sending you the money for you to get your hair done. he wont listen or care if you say no, either.

"miles, bae, why u sendin me 200?" "what else? so you can get your hair done, mami." "baby, you know damn well that's too much." "buy yourself some other stuff too, if you wanna, but that money yours now, i ain't takin it back." "you.. you do too much." "mhm, make sure to show me a pic of when you get it done, you heard?"

he's always your hype man, for sure.

i got a feeling he a major fan of faux locs or boho/godess braids, so if you got that on? he'll fold.

"dayum ma, that shit looks good." "i cant even lie, Aaliyah did real good on this. she sure was tryna make me go broke though.." "worth every cent, cuz you look fine as hell with them faux locs." "miles." "im just saying, mami, your hair, like.. lord have mercy." "miles!" "my fault, i ain't lying though."

when your hair’s all natural, he loves to watching you style your hair for school, events, etc.

one time you let him style your hair, and you couldn’t even lie, it actually looked pretty good.

“these edges.. how do y'all do this shit every day?” “miles, baby, it ain’t that hard. look, lemme show you.”

you had to show him a quick tiktok tut on how to do edges, took him 2 videos before he got it 😭

“see that? like a c shape, and swoop it.” “..like this?” “yeah! you gotta do that like, 4 more times though.” “ay, dios mio. (oh my God). Mama, i ain’t doing allat.”

and wash day? his absolute favorite.

(short drabble ahead!)

Good Days by SZA played from Miles' speaker, blasting in the background, the gentle splashes of the warm water from the shower onto your curls.

You relaxed, your head leaning back further into the bathtub, your lover grabbing your scalp massager and rubbing it into your scalp carefully, shampoo mixed in, the rest of your products on the end corner of your bathtub.

"Ma, you know you really needed this wash. Your hair was tangled as shit, like a lion or sum.” he says, laughing halfway through his sentence. You scoff at him jokingly, "Miles, when you have hair as long and thick as mine, you can violate my hair."

Miles protested, adding the conditioner to your hair, setting your scalp massager aside. "Baby, my hair is basically almost as long as yours."

"Yeah, almost." you spoke, putting your fingers up to his face in pinching motion, the gems on your acrylics just an inch close to touching his nose, a grin on your face. He backed up, pushing your hands out of his face, continuing your wash routine. "Princesa, lemme finish washing yo hair without your hands all up in my face."

About 3 and a half hours later, your hair was washed and in overnight twists with your bonnet on. You laid with Miles in your bed, legs on top of each others, tired.

"Y'know, you actually good at dealin' wit my hair." you spoke, giving Miles a kiss on his forehead. “When you got a mama like mine, you pretty much have to.” Miles chuckled, shaking his head. “You should let me do it more often.” You smiled in response.

He buried his head into the crook of your neck, slowly dozing off by the way you'd play with the silk of his durag. "I love you Miles."

He mumbled words once again into your neck, half asleep, but you knew what he said.

"I love you more, mi vida."

likes, reblogs, comments and asks are always appreciated !

909 notes · View notes

growingblooms · 2 years

Text

inspirational post <33

I never understood why loa bloggers said “persistence is key” until I actually persisted.

My mindset was the worst. I was THAT kind of person “I’m the exception the law doesn’t work for me☹️” or “I don’t think I have xyz I feel like I’m lying to myself💆‍♀️”. I used to write huge lists of things to manifest and start a plan to manifest them all. Then I would affirm for them and feel good but even the slightest of doubts could crash the mindset I was “building”. See here I was wrong. You think you need to grow your mindset to manifest instantly blablabla not true😠!! You are not growing your God mindset you were born with it, you’re only telling the doubts and worries to stfu cause they are not you. 💅🏻I will say this forever. YOU DO NOT HAVE DOUBTS the ego does. There’s no mindset to be changed, there’s just an ego to be crashed. All you need to do is choose what you want and P E R S I S T. Persisting isn’t important just for your desires to show up in the 3d. Persisting is crucial for your mindset. You can’t expect to “start over” every time you doubt. No matter the ups and downs your “mindset” has YOU gotta persist. DECIDE not to resonate with those bad feelings and worries and soon enough you won’t feel like ur sayin ur affirmations lying to yourself, you’ll feel like ur directly talking about your life in the 4D. By doing this my mindset shifted in one day. That day I woke up feeling amazing, I did my affirmation routine and then everything dropped. I started questioning everything like “why the hell am I feeling good” “hold on now do I actually have xyz”. Usually I would’ve started over my whole manifestation “journey” but I got so mad istg. I was like bruh I was doing so good before affirming what the hell happened. Well this is what happened. After affirming I felt so good that my ego had to come in right away. I wasn’t used to feeling so good. But I had been there before so this time I decided to let it pass. Even if once again I felt like I was lying to myself when affirming, I kept saying “no I know I have xyz, this is simply my EGO”. Hours later I had entered the sabbath state. I knew because I went out that day not caring AT ALL about my 3d. I was wild seriously I started looking around in the 3d in the worst circumstances KNOWIN they weren’t real. It felt so liberating. It felt like the 3D was this dead reality and that everything could be changed. Spoiler that’s what it is!! I knew this time it was the final mindset shift because I had felt like that before but I always knew these great feelings were gonna pass and I would go back to doubting. This time it lasted and it just felt so right and pure. Moral of the story You cannot fail. You think you can fail because you have doubts? You persists and those WILL go away. AINT NO DAMN WAY THEY WONT GO AWAY AND YOU KNOW IT. I DONT CARE IF YOU WERE DOING SO GOOD FOR A WEEK AND THEN EVERYTHING CHANGED. YOU PERSIST BECAUSE THE REAL YOU (GOD) STILL NEEDS TO COME OUT. idek how to explain it. It’s like you were never meant to suffer on this earth, you were meant to feel so limitless that everything you want comes to you. KEEP PERSISTING CAUSE YOU CANNOT FAIL.

Okay bye <33

#bloom thinks #growingblooms #law of assumption #neville goddard #loa #dream life #self concept #affirm and persist #affirmations #dream girl

3K notes · View notes

moremaybank · 8 months

Text

UNDERCOVER — j.m

day five how you get the girl with jj maybank

pairing jj maybank x fem!reader

summary you and jj navigate through the changing feelings of your friendship.

warnings fluff, mutual pining, mentions of a physical fight (reader), smoking a joint, i think that's all but let me know.

obx week ‘23 masterlist ;; jj masterlist

JJ had never been one to crack open a book. He rarely did so for school, and never did so for leisure.

You, on the other hand, were your happiest when you were curled up with a good romance novel propped up in your lap.

One afternoon, you’d dragged JJ to the bookstore over on Figure Eight. The scent of aged paper and the soft creak of the wooden floorboards flooded your senses as you perused the shelves. JJ lingered behind you, watching your fingertips glide over the spines of each book and carefully removing the ones you planned to buy.

By the time your arms were filled with books (not including the ones JJ had taken over for you), you made your way up to the cash register. Your eyes locked on a novel you’d sought after for ages, and you pouted.

“Damn it. The one time it’s here and I’m already over my monthly budget.”

JJ listened intently. He didn’t say much, but he made a mental note of your wish and stored it in his memory bank for later.

Two weeks after, you received a mysterious package lying on your front porch. You opened it once you got inside, and you were greeted by the sight of the very same book you’d longed for but weren’t able to take home with you.

A handwritten note accompanied the gift: “Happy reading, pretty girl. From, JJ.”

Happy tears welled up in your eyes as you held the book close to your heart. JJ had not only listened to your words, but had taken the time, effort and last few scraps of his money he had to fulfill your wish. The cherished gesture spoke volumes about how he cared for you, how he’d do anything to see that stunning smile on your face. It was the kind of thoughtfulness that made you rethink your connection with him.

That evening, you showed up to the chateau unannounced. You pulled JJ into your arms, squeezing him so tightly that his organs felt as if they were shifting. You pressed three kisses to his cheek, hearing his melodious laughter filling your ears.

“Woah, what’s with all the love?”

Your hands braced on either side of his neck. “You got me my book. You’re amazing.”

He shrugged casually. “It wasn’t a big deal, princess. I know you were bummed that day when you couldn’t get it. Just wanted to do somethin’ nice for you. You deserve it.”

“Well, well. How the tables have turned.” JJ couldn’t wipe the smirk off his face as he tended to the cut etched over your cheekbone. He’d placed an ice pack over your bruising knuckles, and was now using a q-tip to clean and disinfect the small gash on your face.

“Shut up, JJ.”

“‘M just sayin’. You’re always scolding me for picking fights, and yet, here you are doin’ the same.”

He was right. You did lecture him every time he got into a fight with someone the way a parent would with their child. You'd be fuming, telling him that he shouldn't let people's comments get to him, that they aren't worth his time.

You shot him an irritated glare. “Watch it, or you’re next.”

“Woah. Cool it, Southpaw. No need to get feisty.”

He was enjoying every second of that role reversal far too much. The permanent smile on his lips was enough proof of that fact.

JJ helped you off the counter, holding your hips steadily as he walked behind you and followed you into your bedroom. You both got all cozy beneath your comforter, and JJ’s arm slung itself over your shoulders.

“You could’ve taken it easy on her, though. You yanked her hair out.”

“And I’d do it again. She was a bitch,” you huffed.

“So you really aren’t gonna tell me what happened, then?” He asked, watching as you flipped your TV on and started to scroll through Netflix in search of something to watch together.

You hadn’t told JJ that the reason the fight broke out was because that poor girl had made the mistake of telling you that JJ would never be interested in you. That she’d done all sorts of dirty things with him, and you’d never get to say the same. That you were a fool to even have eyes for him.

“It was dumb. She just, she pushed my buttons, that’s all.”

The hand on your shoulder moved to smooth down the hair atop your head. “Well, fuck her.”

“Why? You already did.”

He could sense the icy tone in your voice, and he felt your body grow rigid. His brows furrowed. “What? No I didn’t.”

It was your turn to be confused. “What do you mean?”

“Dude, I don’t even know her name. I’ve seen her a few times at the boneyard, but, I’ve never hooked up with her. Never even spoke to her.”

Your silence was enough to tell him that he’d been the reason you got into that tussle. The same smirk from earlier found his lips again, and he pulled you closer into him.

“You tellin’ me you got into that fight ‘cause you were jealous, pretty girl?”

You kept your focus on the TV, muttering at him to be quiet.

He laughed softly, using his other hand to turn your face toward him. His bright eyes found your nervous ones, and he gave you a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, princess. I wouldn't choose anyone over you.”

And with that, he turned his attention to the show you’d chosen as if what he’d just said had been a casual thing. Your heart stammered, and butterflies erupted in your stomach.

Did this mean you had a chance?

You were laying in the hammock at the chateau, smoking a joint that’d you’d stolen from JJ’s stash. The gentle sway and creaking of the ropes were a comforting sound. Your mind was lost deep in thought, and the subject taking up your mind was none other than JJ. Lately, things had been changing between the two of you, and you couldn’t help wonder where it was all heading.

As if he sensed your crowded mind, JJ appeared as he hopped down the stairs outside and approached you with a comforting grin. He plucked the joint from your fingertips, hitting it and exhaling the smoke with a chuckle when you frowned at him.

“Hey. I was smoking that.”

“It’s mine now.”

After the two of you finished smoking, he put the joint out and he extended a hand toward you. “Come on. Take a ride with me.”

You accepted his hand and let him guide you to the pogue. The anticipation built in your chest as the two of you glided across the water of the marsh. The breeze tousled your hair, and the stars were beginning to take over the sky, sparkling beautifully.

JJ was the first to break the silence. “You looked like you had a lot on your mind back there. You wanna tell me what’s goin’ on?”

You gave him a faint smile. “Just thinking about stuff.”

He raised an eyebrow, the curiosity in his face evident, even in the dark. “Stuff, huh? Care to expand on that?”

He was always so perceptive, especially when it came to you, so it was a difficult task to hide anything from him. You took a deep breath and decided to take a chance. “I’ve been thinking about us, J. It just, it feels like there’s something more going on with us lately, and I can’t help but wonder where its’ going.”

JJ leaned back against the chair beside you, looking into your gaze nervously. “You noticed that too, huh?”

You nodded, your heart now in your throat. You couldn’t tell if his response was a positive or negative one. “Yeah, and I don’t know about you, but it’s been driving me a little crazy.”

“Well, pretty girl, since we’re both goin’ a little crazy, how about we do something about it?”

A puzzled look washed over your features. “What do you mean?”

He hooked index finger under your chin and used it to fix your gaze on him. Then, his hand moved to cup your cheek. His thumb smoothed atop your cheekbone, and before you knew it, his lips met yours. The kiss was soft and sweet, full of all the yearning the two of you had felt for the past couple of months. Your cheeks flushed with warmth as your hand found the back of his neck, and your fingertips wove into the hair that sat at the nape of his neck. You urged him closer to you, and melted fully into the sweet moment.

Breaking away, he smiled at you. “There’s somethin’ here, princess. Somethin’ special, and I really don’t wanna hide from it anymore. I like you. Like, a lot.”

Your heart soared. “I feel the same way, J. I have for awhile now.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded with a shy smile. “Yeah.”

You two shared another intimate kiss, this time throwing yourselves into it completely as you were now devoid of the fear that had been holding you back for so long. His touch was warm, and everything felt so right. There wasn’t anyone else you wanted like this, no place you’d rather be. All you wanted was JJ, and all JJ wanted was you.

“So, like, you’re my girlfriend now, right?”

You laugh softly. “I better be after that kiss.”

JJ TAG LIST (JOIN HERE!): @oncasette @taintedxkisses @maybankslover @goldenroutledge @penny4yourthoughts @bmo-bri @hemogloban @princessbetsy123-blog @slytherhoes @whoisdrewstarkey @aliyahsomerhalder @dreamingwithrafe @vigilanteshitposting @poppet05 @wildflwrdarlin @adoreyouusugar @f4ll-for-you @tell-me-when-ur-ready @bbycowboi @venomwh0re @jjmaybankisbae @enhypens-hoe @loverofdrewstarkey @earth2starkey @angelofcigs @glen-powells @papillonoirsworld @koalalafications @aerangi @cantstoptheimagines @bloody-mf-bsc @maybanksbabe @sarah5462 @slut4drudy @lvvrgrl @dancinglikeaballerina @somerandos-world @shahanaazsoumah

301 notes · View notes

eoieopda · 9 months

Note

okay okay HEAR ME OUT...... established long-term relationship w taehyung where you both constantly talk about how hot his best friend jimin is (it's not weird) - and then one day you turn to each other and go: wait, should we fuck him? (and you do, and it's great.)

do you have any idea how hard it was to limit myself to 1k words 🫠

the one with the hall pass

pairing: kim taehyung x reader x park jimin summary: you and your boyfriend have everything important in common — especially your taste in men. cw: reader is afab, minimal use of she/her pronouns, reader + taehyung are drinkin’ wine but neither is drunk, threesome, oral sex (f receiving), a lil 🤏🏻 bit of nipple play, unedited 🫣 au: established relationship (kth x reader) type: drabble (smut) rating: 18+ wc: 970 a/n (11/24/23): a continuation/sequel was requested! you can find it here. 🔞 MINORS WHO INTERACT WITH ME AND/OR MY CONTENT WILL BE BLOCKED, WHETHER OR NOT THE CONTENT IS NSFW. I’M AN ADULT WRITING EXCLUSIVELY FOR OTHER ADULTS.

It started as most things do: with a little too much wine, Taehyung’s head in your lap, and a question coming out of left fucking field.

“Who’s your hall pass?”

You peel your eyes off the television and blink dumbly down at your boyfriend, who seems entirely unfazed by your confusion. You snort, “My what?”

“Your hall pass,” he repeats himself slowly, as if the speed of the initial question was the problem.

No dice.

“If the opportunity came up and you wanted to fuck someone that isn’t me — consequence free — who would you pick?”

“Is this a trap?” You tease, but you know it isn’t.

Taehyung may think in four dimensions, but none of them are malicious. Curious, through and through, and mischievous, yes — never manipulative.

To prove that fact to you, he takes the hand you’re using to play mindlessly with his hair and pulls it down to his mouth. Lips brush sweetly across your knuckles, silently encouraging you to play along.

Someone in your position might aim high and throw out the name of a celebrity, just in case all of the horny planets align and your wish comes true. Only one name comes to mind now, though; and it’s not the first time one or both of you drops it.

“Jimin’s ass simply does not quit,” you hum appreciatively. Growing more excited with every racing thought, you shift slightly in your seat and grin down at Taehyung. “Have you seen him in those leather pants lately? Hot boy summer, for real.”

“Never took you for an ass man, baby.” Taehyung’s mouth twitches at the corner. He chuckles, “Tell me you’re not sleeping on his thighs, though.”

Immediately, you interrupt with a whine so sincere that it makes your head tilt backwards against the couch cushion. “His thighs! Who gave him the right?”

“I’m sayin’,” he nods.

Taehyung goes quiet after releasing the dreamiest sigh you’ve ever heard. You aren’t a mind-reader, but it’s no giant leap to assume what he’s thinking about — you’re thinking it, too. He’s always been ten steps ahead of you, though, so he proposes it first.

It’s so casual, like he’s asking where to order delivery from:

“Should we fuck him?”

—————

Jimin, as it turns out, has been waiting on an invitation. He agrees before Taehyung can even finish asking, noting right off the bat that he’s available, “now. Like, right now. I can be there in thirty minutes.”

He damn near kicks the door down when he arrives at your apartment, and he spends the subsequent several minutes apologizing for the way the door knob slammed into the adjoining wall. Every time he bows with his palms pressed together in front of his chest, your heart flutters.

That duality — the assertiveness mixed in with the sweetest shyness — has fucked you up for as long as you’ve know him. Judging by the way Taehyung pinches his bottom lip between his teeth, the same is true for him. Lidded eyes laving from head to toe, the only time he tears his gaze off of Jimin is to smirk over at you.

That remains the case as the three of you wander from the entryway, through the living room, and into your bedroom.

The conversation that follows sweeps from boundaries — none — to preferences — all — to Jimin’s first request. His words come as softly as his fingertips running down the length of your thigh. He doesn’t look at you when he says them, however; he stares straight past you at Taehyung.

“Show me how she likes it, Tae,” he instructs. “I wanna know what makes her melt in your mouth.”

Taehyung, as it turns out, has been waiting for an audience. More eager than you’ve ever seen him, he buries his face in your cunt and pulls out all the stops.

“Goddamn,” Jimin groans when your head falls back and your back arches.

He sits near your shoulder on the bed, watching with his pupils blown wide and his hand squeezing his cock through his jeans. You’re so busy rocketing through different dimensions that you almost lose track of his presence next to you — but then you feel his lips against the shell of your ear, breath hot.

He hums, “You sound even prettier outside of my imagination, you know.”

You’re in the middle of whimpering over those words when he ducks down and flicks his tongue over one of your nipples; it morphs into a shuddered gasp on the way out. “F-fuck!”

With targeted kitten licks to your clit and long, slow drags of his tongue through your folds, Taheyung makes a mess and a meal out of you. Suckling and slurping, he doesn’t stop until you’re screaming — until you’re squeezing your thighs around his head, gripping tight to his hair while you try to get a grip on yourself.

You breathlessly sputter, “I can’t — nngh — t-too sensitive.”

“But you taste so fucking sweet, baby,” he pants, leaving an open-mouthed kiss on your inner thigh.

The bottom half of his face is drenched in your slick when he finally lets you squirm away from him. He smirks like the devil over at Jimin. “You took notes, right?”

“Think I’ve got the gist now,” Jimin laughs, and it sounds like music. He curls his finger and beckons your boyfriend to lean in over your spent body. “C’mere.”

You don’t know how Taehyung is faring, but the anticipation is killing you.

Jimin’s fingers slip through the sweat-slicked hair at the nape of Taehyung’s neck, which elicits a low moan from the latter. You stare up at them, completely unable to process that this — that either of them — are real.

Your ears are still ringing from the way your body just detonated, but you swear you hear Jimin beg for a taste of you before Taehyung’s lips crash into his.

#taehyung smut #jimin smut #vmin smut #bts smut #vmin #taehyung x reader #jimin x reader #taehyung drabble #jimin drabble #kth #pjm #jade writes #jade’s requests #jade’s drabbles #micdropnet #btsafterdarknet #kvanity #m 🦆#re: the one with the hall pass

337 notes · View notes

hobies-princealbert · 9 months

Note

Hi!! Omg i wanna say ur hc’s and fics are sooo good whaaat pls pat urself on the back bc u ate that!!!? I really enjoyed your fontaine bf hcs but i was wondering if u could do some nsfw bf hcs for him. Hes just so 😫😫😫😫

awwww yall go make me blush. thank you very much though it's means alot that to you enjoy my works.

ﾟ+.ヽ(≧▽≦)ﾉ.+ﾟ

"taine, you a down bad munch" | fontaine x reader (nsfw)

▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎♡▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎♡▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎♡▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎♡▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎♡▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎♡▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎♡▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎

♡ fontaine is versatile when it comes to sex. whatever you want, as long as he's down he'll do it. can be rough as hell if you want. he's talking hand prints on your ass, running mascara, bruised hips, raspy screams. all you gotta do is give him the go ahead.

♡ can also be very sappy when you need him to be. not candle light and rose petals sappy. but he'll hold your hand, kiss your wrists, rub your back, just anything you need to get you closer to release. he'll do it. after all, he's here's to make his girl feel good, and he wouldn't be able to get a good night's sleep knowing you weren't at least shedding a couple tears by the time he's done.

♡ he loves to talk his shit. if your shy and don't say much, don't worry he'll get a couple words outta you. he's a big tease too, and will edge you for hours just for you to say one word. he wants you confident enough to ask for what you want, and what you don't want from him. he really does prioritize communication alot.

♡ if you already love to talk your shit, he'll be putty in your hands. loves someone who can boss him around every now and then. tell him where to touch and how to touch, he'll adore you.

♡ loves when you get really soft on him. stroke his cheek, kiss all over his face, even tell him you love him. hell, it's enough to make a nigga blush.

♡ loves car sex. will pull into an alleyway, day or night, and have your heels digging into his dash board. it's a tight space, little to no distractions, and semi public, all the things that gets his motor going (pun intended).

♡ a veteran munch. and he's gangsta enough to admit it. and if someone call him corny, he'll just laugh. cuz he knows a nigga that can't get pussy ain't running his mouth about it. you loveee his munch tendencies, even when he gets the itch at the most inopportune times.

you opened the door to your apartment, just to see taine standing in the hallway. you stare at him confused for a bit, cause wtf. "taine? what the hell you doin' here, it's almos' one in the damn morning?"

"i texted you earlier sayin' 'm comin' over, didn't i?" he did. but that was earlier in the day. once it passed 10pm you thought he got caught up with something, so you took your ass to bed. but you should've known better, taine always keeps his word.

not even giving you time to cuss his ass out, a pair of familiar hands grabbed at your waist, and lifted you off the ground. he kicked the door close, placed you on the nearest soft surface he could find. as you felt your legs being lifted onto his shoulders, you knew exactly why he was here now.

"taine, you a down bad munch" you smirked as he grumbles how tight these damn shorts are, as he desperately tries to get them off.

"yea yea talk all the shi' you wan'. hope you can stil' talk all that' shi' by the time I'm done"

♡ fucking panty thief. what can he say he has a thing for keeping souvenirs, especially if it was a good fuck. he has no shame with it. will slide them down your legs while he's getting dressed, and just stuffs them into his back pocket. and he don't wanna hear it. not like you can protest anyways, you're too fucked out to agrue with him.

♡ loves loves loves when you leave marks on him. the man has a possession kink, that's for sure. bite marks on his shoulders, hickeys on his neck and scratches all over his forearms and back. the man wears them like a badge on honor. And if anyone asks, he grows the most shit eating grin and tell em his girl left him some keepsakes.

♡ and speaking of possessive. if you're in a situationship with this man, or yall haven't cuffed each other yet, either way don't you even think about dealing with another nigga. taine would never be able to tolerate the idea of another dick drilling into your cunt. as far as he's concerned, he's the only one who knows how to make you feel good. good enough to make a blabbering, shaking mess of yourself.

♡ is his girl that greedy that he alone can't satisfy her? well shit, guess he gonna have to convince you other wise. cause to him, with way your cunt clenches around him, she knows he's the only one for you. but it's like your brain hasn't got the memo yet. don't worry he'll fix it.

(and if he ever found that man you fucking with, guess he's breaking another pair of legs. he doesn't like sharing. at all. just the idea pisses him off already.)

♡ his aftercare is decent. he's not to be overly affectionate post nut. he doesn't mind a nice cuddle session though. and he's sweet enough to remember to carry you to the bathroom, so you can pee.

"want some water? sure thing ma"

"hungry? what ya feeling for baby, want me to order take out or sumthin'?"

♡ he'll even have a warm, damp towel on hand to wipe you down, if you want him to.

#fontaine x reader #they cloned tyrone #fontaine x black reader #fontaine they cloned tyrone #this is the most ive ever gone into detail on this man #damn #i hope i didnt make him do too mucn since taine is a simple ass man at best #☆° via writes °☆

246 notes · View notes

multifandombitxh · 10 months

Text

Bed Time Stories

Pairing: Ghost x Fem!Reader (Ghost's POV, no use of y/n)

Genre: Angst, fluff, enemies to lovers kinda

Warnings: Adult language, a really bad romance novel excerpt that I made up on the spot

A/N: I'm back for like five minutes don't get used to it 🤙 PS would love to write something for a male reader if that's something anyone wants, just sayin'

Ghost had no idea how long this had been going on without his knowledge. In a way, he was a little upset that no one told him about this, especially when Soap knows how he feels about the new recruit. He was completely drawn to her from day one, the moment she stepped foot on base looking like pure sunshine in dirty combat boots. He didn't even know her name before he knew he wanted her- her mind, her heart, her soul... Her body as well, but that was a different issue.

Ghost kept his sweet distance. He knew that the moment he let himself revel in her kindness, it would only make things worse. It was beyond frustrating; he hadn't felt like this toward anyone in- well, ever. He was used to finding people attractive every now and then, sure, but this? This was a whole new ball game for him- and he doesn't even know how to play the game.

He wanted to bring her flowers, watch sunsets with her, ask for her favorite color, her favorite food, favorite movies and books, to know everything she found beautiful or worthwhile in this world. His thoughts were worse at night when he was trying to sleep. What did she look like in the mornings? Does she drink coffee, or tea? How lovely would it be to wake every day with her head on his chest?

He wanted to hold her god damn hand for Christ's sake. What was she turning him into?

Regardless of his softness toward her, Ghost did everything in his power to stay the fuck away. He was mean to her. He was snippy when he didn't have to be, putting her in her place when he felt it necessary. The others would hound him about it; "Go easy on her, Lieutenant." "Why would you say that?" "Maybe you should ease up a bit." But no. Not a snowball's chance in hell would he "ease up" or "lay off".

If he did, he'd melt just at the sight of her smile.

As if he wasn't already doing just that.

Soap noticed it first, the way his Lieutenant's gaze softened as soon as it fell on her, how his shoulders relaxed and his fists unclenched. She was walking stress relief, her smile so perfect and crooked and full. Her warm, inviting eyes shimmered and lit up any time she looked Ghost's way. God forbid he make eye contact with her, it made him weak in the knees. As soon as Soap caught onto this, he tortured Ghost with it day in and day out.

Now, as he stands in the hallway outside of the barracks, his arms crossed and his jaw tight, he listens as she speaks in soft, pronounced sentences, reading from a sappy, cheesy romance novel. Soap was the first to ask her about it- of course he was, he's always looking for ammo to tease the rest of the team with- but she wasn't even slightly embarrassed to tell him she loved romantic literature. Soap asked her to read a few pages to him, thinking it would be hilarious, and so she obliged. Now, a week and some change later, Soap and Gaz sat around with her late into the evening, listening to her read the latest chapter in her silly little book to pass the time.

Ghost's heart ached in his chest as he listened to her, smiling as she occasionally stumbled over her words, lost her place, or changed her tone of voice when speaking for different characters. The sound of her soft laughter nearly brought him to tears when she got to the juicer parts of the story, describing the intimate lives of these fictional people in great detail. Soap and Gaz would laugh along with her, but never once teased her or made fun of her for enjoying herself. It made Ghost feel warm. It made him feel full in his chest.

Soon, he began to focus a little more on the actual story rather than how beautiful the words sounded coming from her lips.

"Meredith watched as the love of her life crossed the small yard, plucking dandelions from the tall grasses and placing them in his woven wicker basket. Her heart was about to burst straight out of her chest and onto the cold, wooden floor, watching him so delicately picking the flowers and setting them aside. His amber hair almost glowed under the golden afternoon sun- he looked angelic in this light. She sighed through her freckled nose, knowing she had found the truest, purest form of love, and never wanted to let it slip from her grasp."

Ghost listened intently as you read that paragraph, snorting to himself. Looks like he and Meredith had something in common.

"How many chapters was that?" Soap asks as she closes the book, placing a bookmark between the pages.

"Only four left," She says with a smile, "Almost to the end."

Ghost feels rotten on the inside as she says that, knowing he'd missed so much of this special little gathering made him feel deep regret for pushing her away. As if driven by this deep sense of remorse, he steps out from the hall, moving into the open doorway and leaning against the frame, his arms remaining crossed. He tries to look angry, intimidating- his usual. Soap and Gaz look up at him, a bit surprised to see him.

"Lt, how long you been there?" Soap asks, standing from his seat and dusting himself off.

"Not long," Ghost lies, shrugging slightly. He looks between Soap and Gaz, not daring to look her way just yet. "You two mind giving us a moment?"

Soap smirks and nods, exchanging knowing looks with Gaz. The two of them thank her for another evening of book club, their soft and sweet voices making Ghost roll his eyes and nearly gag. He watches as they leave, taking their sweet time and discussing the latest chapters. Ghost finally turns to her, doing his damnedest to keep his gaze hard. She can't know, she can't.

"Did you need something, sir?" She asks, her voice much more meek than when she spoke with the others. He takes note of this, wondering to himself if he's made her uncomfortable. She stands from the bunk she was lounging on, placing the book on top of the covers as she straightens out. Ghost forces himself to keep his eyes trained on her face, lest they wander.

"I do, actually," He replies, taking a step toward her. It doesn't take much- his stride is quite large considering his size- for him to stand before her, nearly towering over her like a skyscraper. She looks up at him expectantly, her hands behind her back as she maintains a neutral expression. He misses her smile already.

"You-" He starts, shifting his weight as he tries to find his words. "I think- listen. This... You can't... Do this. Anymore. Whatever it is, it stops here."

Her face drops from neutral to hurt, her brows drawing together as her eyes fill with confusion. "What?" She asks, shaking her head. "I... Can't read? Are you serious?"

Dammit. He did it again. Without even meaning to, he put another invisible wedge between them, when all he really wanted to do was pull her closer. His chest begins to ache, anxiety setting in as he realizes what he's done. But he can't seem to stop himself.

"You can read, Sergeant, just... Not to the others. They have duties," Ghost explains, sounding unsure of himself. She seems to catch on, because soon her face changes from hurt to anger. "I can't have you distracting my men like this."

"You're joking," She scoffs, shaking her head and folding her own arms over her chest. Ghost physically fights the urge to look down. "You can't be serious, Ghost."

"That's Lieutenant to you," He all but snaps, taking another intimidating step forward. Why was he doing this? Why was he like this? His mind races as he tries to stop himself, to put an end to this charade and tell her the truth, to show her even an ounce of kindness. Why was that so hard for him? "Mind yourself if you want to keep your place on this team."

A few seconds pass as there's a pause in the discussion, and she lowers her gaze, nodding a few times. "It won't happen again, Lieutenant," She manages, keeping her eyes to the floor. The tone of her voice sounds like she was just slapped in the face.

Fuck. He's really done it now.

How can he fix this?

"Good," Ghost says quickly, giving her a single nod before he turns his back to her and begins walking away. Every fiber of his being is fighting himself, his heart begging him to turn around and apologize, take her in his arms and make her feel the love he feels for her. Before he reaches the threshold of the doorway, he hears her small voice again, her words striking his heart like a frozen spear.

"What did I do to make you hate me so much..?"

He can't do this. Not anymore.

Not to her.

"Dammit..." Ghost whispers, closing his eyes as he stops in his tracks. He turns on his heel, his heart hammering in his chest so hard it hurts. "I don't... Hate you, Sergeant."

He watches her for a moment, noticing her defeated stance and the way she refuses to look his way, not that he blames her. It kills him inside to know that he caused this- that she's hurting because of his actions. All because he's afraid of letting her in. At this rate, he'll have to physically build a brick wall to keep himself away from her. He was done for.

"I don't understand," She whispers. Her voice wavers, sounding as though she's holding back tears. That nearly rips his heart out of his chest. "I have tried so hard to do my best and do what's right for the team. Everyone seems to have faith in me, except for you. I don't understand what I did wrong, Lieutenant, I don't-"

Without a second thought, he crosses the room to her, taking swift strides as he comes to stand in front of her again. Before she can even blink he holds her face in both of his hands, his palms covering her cheeks and his fingers resting on her jaw. Her eyes go wide, and he's pretty sure he hears her breath catch in her throat.

"I... Am so stupidly in love with you," He confesses in a voice barely above a whisper, the feeling of her soft skin against his calloused hands sending a shiver up his spine. He locks eyes with her, making sure to silently convey with them that he's telling the truth. "I want you... In every sense of the phrase. I want you in the worst way, and I can't... I can't have you."

As she stares up at him with a puzzled expression, his heart rate increases ten fold, the closeness of their bodies suddenly overwhelming his senses. He can smell her, her lovely scent on her clothes and skin. It's intoxicating. He wishes he could bottle it and keep it for himself on lonely nights.

"Ghost-"

"You are the embodiment of everything good in this world, and I... I- I would dirty you if I put my hands on you," He carries on, his thumb stroking her cheekbone so delicately it's almost ghosting over the flesh. His voice breaks as he speaks, as if he's about to lose his composure any moment. "I am trying to keep myself away from you, don't you understand? Everything about you is like a drug I'm hopelessly addicted to and haven't even tried. And I'll never be sorry enough for hurting you, but I'd be hurting you more if I let myself feel this way about you."

As he lays it all out for her, pouring his heart out in phrases that even he didn't think he could formulate, her eyes soften and begin to fill with tears. They glisten beautifully under the dim lights, glossy and lovely and inviting. His breathing becomes uneven at the sight of her, feeling himself fall harder and harder the longer he looks into them. When she leans into his touch and closes her eyes, he almost gasps, completely taken aback by the gesture.

"Maybe I'm not as clean as you think I am," She whispers, each word hitting him hard in the gut. As he tries to process what she means, her hands slip beneath the bottom of his balaclava, slowly but surely sliding it up until his mouth comes into view.

He doesn't even think about trying to stop her when she leans in and presses her perfect lips to his.

The kiss lasts for what feels like milliseconds, leaving him wanting more. So much more. As soon as her lips depart from his, he's wrapping his arms tightly around her waist and pulling her back in, his mouth crashing down on hers once again. The softest sighs escapes into the kiss, though neither of them are sure who started it. Heat builds almost immediately and suddenly Ghost has her in his arms, lifting her into the air with his hands on the backs of her thighs. He pushes her hard against the closest wall, drawing a shocked breath out of her.

Ghost's mind is gone, lost somewhere deep in the corners of his skull while his heart takes control, relishing in the soft sensation of her mouth against his. All bets are off now, and he doesn't care anymore. He wants her. He needs her. Like air, like water, like shelter. She is keeping him alive.

But she's killing him at the same time.

When they finally pull apart from one another, they breathe hard, the air between them hot and heavy. One of her hands holds up his balaclava while the other wraps around his broad shoulders, using them for some leverage as he holds her in the air against the cold wall.

"I'm sorry," She mumbles against his lips, closing her eyes. "I probably shouldn't have done that."

"Probably not," Ghost agrees with a grin, biting down on his lower lip briefly as he takes in the sight of her like this. Breathless, vulnerable. Beautiful. "But I'd expect nothing less from someone who reads those stupid novels."

369 notes · View notes

sixosix · 2 years

Text

suna rintarou: forehead kisses [2/2]

gn!reader, fluff, confessions, part one link, wc 1.4k

ft. atsumu the useless wingman and suna the jealous bff-possible-bf-question-mark

maybe telling miya atsumu, of all people, about your little routine with suna is not the brightest idea you’ve had. but in your defense! you truly didn’t think it was anything worth babbling about.

“you’re sayin’ that he does that to ya every day,” atsumu deadpans. “do ya hear yourself right now?”

“i don’t understand the problem!” you admit, cheeks burning with something akin to embarrassment -- though you’re not sure why. “is it really that surprising that best friends kiss each other on the forehead?”

“it’s suna.”

“is it really that surprising that said best friend suna rintarou gives me forehead kisses?”

“yeah,” atsumu doesn’t waste a second replying, firm with conviction. “it’s suna, y/n. i don’t know if i’m the one bein’ tricked or--”

“you’re not being anything! especially being helpful,” you cry out in exasperation, hands thrown into the air. “listen, how about you just forget i let it slip that rintarou is the doting type of best friend--” atsumu scoffs at that, but doesn’t say anything, “--and we can go back to the gym with free minds and spirits.”

“that sounds stupid,” atsumu says. “you will never be free from this.”

“shut up.”

atsumu hums. “are you okay with it, though?”

the mirth from his tone disappeared, then came seriousness that atsumu rarely used. “what do you… mean?” you ask hesitantly.

“i know yer fat fuckin’ crush on that guy, dummy.”

startled at his statement, you whip your head around, worried that someone would hear stupid atsumu and his stupid claim. no one is, but that doesn’t make it any less okay for him to just blurt it out in public like that -- much less blurt it out at all.

“ohmygod atsumu!” you hiss. you feel rage bubble up in your stomach even more when he snickers at your outburst. “shut up, it’s not-- i don’t-- you’re so dumb--”

“but i’m not wrong,” atsumu offers. you haven’t noticed that he started walking back to the gym, with you trailing behind him instinctively. “just ‘cause he’s unaware doesn’t mean you hafta suffer for it.”

you frown. he’s right. it’s not as pleasant to have suna unknowingly mess with your feelings, yet it wasn’t like it’s his fault, nor yours.

“but it’s just a kiss on the forehead,” you argue. “friends would do that to each other all the time! it doesn’t mean anything to him.”

“it does to you, though, right? and who’s to say it doesn’t mean anythin’ to him?”

“i hate you sometimes, miya.”

“i’ll relay that message to ‘samu,” he says, yelping when you whack him on the head. “what? resorting to violence ‘cause ya can’t wrap your head ‘round the fact that he has the saddest crush on ya too?”

“stop saying that!!!!”

before you even know it, you’re back at the doors of the volleyball gym and suna is walking towards the both of you. there’s a split second where he glances at atsumu, a flicker of a glare, before he looks back at you.

“where did you go?” he asks. there’s a slight pout on his lips; you’re positive he doesn’t even know he’s doing it, which makes it cuter. dammit.

“refilling water bottles,” you say. which is true, and would’ve been a faster process if some dumbass didn’t give you a crisis over your hopeless crush. “here you go.”

suna takes the bottle, but doesn’t take his eyes off of you, contemplative. you blink back at him, confused. suna narrows his eyes at atsumu, eyes silently accusing him of things you can’t understand.

atsumu scoffs. “i wasn’t botherin’ y/n, promise.”

both of them stare at each other for a moment, before atsumu groans and starts to walk away. “fine, fine! so damn overprotective. i was just tryna be a good wingman, damn…” the rest of his words are no longer decipherable now that he’s out of earshot.

huh, you think. “i didn’t know it was that easy to get rid of him.”

“you should try it sometimes,” suna says, mirth in his eyes, though his face is carefully placid. “but i don’t mind scaring him off of you either.”

“my knight in shining armor, really,” you mock, earning a small smile from him. “well, you better drink up before you pass out cold and the miya twins start flocking around.”

“it’d take more than dehydration to take me down,” suna drawls, moving closer. you don’t flinch. or at least, you try not to -- you don’t want to scare him away by giving him the wrong idea.

“didn’t you pass out and drooled all over my shoulder without hesitation when kita suggested you cool off?” you tease, hoping it hides the way your eyes widen in alarm when he takes hold of your wrist.

he stares at your hands for a second -- maybe a second too long -- before he stares back up at you. “not my fault you were comfortable,” he says easily, like how everything is to him most of the time, as if you’re not losing your mind.

“t-that’s. that’s-- thanks?”

suna grins.

usually, you’d be more composed than this. stupid atsumu making you look at his totally-platonic actions in a different light.

“let’s go outside?” he offers.

you nod, relieved for the change in topic. “yeah! you got all your stuff in there right?” he nods; you pat his head the way one does with a cat. he doesn’t recoil but his face says he’s not pleased. “good good! i want some ice cream, therefore we should get some ice cream.”

suna lets you lead him away from the gym after waving your goodbyes to everyone, though he’s acting stranger than usual.

“y/n,” he says.

you come to a halt, turning around to see him with an expression that’s hard to read. “yes? do you not want ice cream…?”

he smiles, rolling his eyes playfully. “come here,” he says.

your eyes brighten, knowing exactly what it means. carefully, and slowly, you stand right in front of him, expectant.

he kisses your forehead.

you explode.

or at least, you think you did. you feel as if your senses are on overdrive, pathetic stammers spilling out as you clutch your forehead -- as if you’re protecting yourself from another slam of a truck to your heart.

it’s not the first time he’s done this, obviously. he knows how much it calms you down. but the way he did it out of nowhere, much less with loitering students around to see, gives the opposite effect.

and suna laughs. laughs, deep in his chest, but quiet enough where it almost sounds like a snicker.

you attack him with a series of light punches on his arm as he continues to chuckle at you. “you’re so-- evil! so evil, i tell you. spawn of satan-- no, that’s an understatement!”

without hesitation, he responds, “and you’re cute.”

that’s it. you give up.

with a defeated whine, you drop to the floor, balancing on your feet, hiding your face on your hands with it pressed on your knees. you look pathetic, hunched up like this, but at this point, suna might as well have reduced you into a pathetic puddle.

“too much?” suna asks, bending down to match your height. you don’t bother looking at him, only grunting in response. he laughs quietly again.

“you suck, rintarou.”

“you love it.”

you pause, letting his words sink in. so he does know? after about two seconds, you peel your hands from your face, feeling warm all over when he takes one of your hands and laces it with his.

the patient smile on his face is cruel. “you shy again?” he teases, but not unkindly.

“i like you,” you tell him instead of replying. “i like you, you know that?”

he nods; it’s not mocking. but… happy. the smile on his face is genuine. “i know that. i like you, too, you know that?”

“i…” you feel your heart burst. “i don’t-- didn’t. i didn’t.”

suna hums thoughtfully. “that’s not good. can i kiss you?”

“that’s--” you search for something in his eyes; any trace of mockery, insincerity, anything, but he’s open with the way you see how soft his expression has become. “...yeah. you can-- or, may. you may.”

he inches closer. you close your eyes instinctively, a bit terrified because you have no experience whatsoever in the art of kissing. anything under lip-to-lip action.

he kisses your forehead.

and then he laughs at your offended expression.

#606:HQ #606:INRZK #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu drabbles #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintaro x you #suna rintaro fluff #suna rintaro scenarios #suna rintarou x reader

2K notes · View notes