#its just so funny how much everyone fears him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yutasbellybuttonpiercing · 11 months

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slowly, i'm going down

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pairing: song mingi x reader (no pronouns mentioned, reader has female anatomy)

au/genre: college!au, tutor!reader, mingi does not give a shit about studying, smut

word count: 4816 words

warnings: voice kink (AHHHHH), oral and fingering (reader receiving), reader is a little mean, kitchen sex, anime references, cringe, a joke about adhd, dirty talk... um..., oh right Mingi has a big dick (wbk), everyone's a little silly, unprotected sex (boo ‼️👎🏻), premature ejaculation almost, creampie, cum eating... (not reader...), i think that's it. NOT PROOF READ YET!!

synopsis: mingi hates studying, but what he hates way more than that is being perceived as stupid. what mingi loves on the other hand, are pretty people getting flustered about his voice

mingi shows you exactly what he hates and loves.

a/n: i was almost ready when i saw this tiktok and it completely blocked my mind because it's SO FUNNY, but at the same time, it's men being dudes, dudes being bros, and that kind of made it hard for me to continue. i apologize for the 24h delay 😞

taglist: @byuntrash101 @goquokka @ashwoodforest @choisansnotsolegalwife

Mingi is not one to sit there and look at books. Or papers. Or anything that doesn't move and feed his brain with bright colors and his ears with noises, really. He prefers to vibe, and studying is definitely not the vibe. Sadly, studying is a part of his life as a university student. Yes, he chose this path for himself and yes, he was aware that it would involve studying. Still, now that it's really happening and is not just an obstacle to overcome in the far, far future, Mingi kind of wishes he'd chosen something else to do with his life. It's just exhausting, why would he waste the precious time he has left on planet earth on something that doesn't get the serotonin floating? He's pretty sure he has some undiagnosed ADHD simmering up there, but who is he to judge that? He's certainly not studying to become a doctor or whatever.

Anyway, given the fact that Mingi doesn't like to study, he's not had much experience with it in the first place. He's barely gotten his way through school, but uni is a different level. Hence, he needs someone to 1) teach him how to study and 2) make him study, or rather: have a judging eye on him while he is supposed to study, so the fear of being called out on it may light a fire under his ass and force him to bury his nose between the stinky pages of an old library book (on that note: he also needed someone to show him how to check out books from the library).

And that's why you are here, every Thursday afternoon, sitting at the sad excuse of a kitchen counter slash dining table in Mingi's scandalously expensive apartment given its size, growling next to him every time you catch him analyzing the bumps on his wallpapers instead of the letters on the pages.

Mingi generally likes you, even though you are a bit scary, he has to admit, or maybe that's the appeal. You are polite, but you have a way of looking at him that makes him feel like he's getting mansplained by your eyes. Your taunting gaze on him makes him feel small, and he doesn't like that at all. It makes him feel like all these years of drinking milk to make him stand at the 1.84m he is at today were in vain. You always have that one expression on your face, and maybe that's just Mingi's subconsciousness telling him to STUDY HARD FOR GOD'S SAKE, but in the way your eyebrows would scrunch together just the tiniest bit, he reads: God, he is fucking stupid.

He doesn't know which (since he did not pay attention in biology class, nor is he even sure they teach that in biology class) chemical in his brain suffers an allergic reaction every time you look at him like that, but there has to be one. There is nothing that Mingi hates more than being called stupid. Well, except for studying, maybe.

Call him lazy, call him a scalawag, call him witty for being able to get through all of school without reading a single one of the set books if you must, but do not call him stupid.

The only problem is that you haven't, well, called him stupid per se. It's just how Mingi interprets your stares. Also, he desperately needs you because he doubts there will be many other contestants that are okay with getting paid as little as you are (which is all Mingi has left by the end of a month full of Pokémon trading cards). So Mingi just has to sit back and relax and simply take it because, apparently, that's what he gets for not studying his entire life.

A loud ringing wakes Mingi from his peaceful afternoon nap - one that he has really earned this time around, he managed to look through his study notes for a full 20 minutes during his lunch break!

Disoriented, Mingi raises his head to make out his location and what year he is in. It rings again. Slowly, Mingi recognizes the shrill sound as his door bell. He slowly gets up, a quick glance in the mirror tells him that his hair is an absolute mess (which is really a crowning achievement given his buzz cut length) and he has imprint marks from his blanket all over his right cheek, but his sleepy mind doesn't even take it in. Mingi furrows his brows and shakes his head. Who would dare to disturb his peaceful slumber at this ungodly hour (4pm)?

The answer, of course, stands right in front of his door. With your arms crossed and the tip of your shoe drumming a dent into Mingi's "come in if you're a silly baka"-door mat, you raise an unimpressed brow at the sleepy shell of Mingi that blinks one eye after the other.

A few seconds pass until Mingi finally realizes who you are, and his mouth forms an 'o'-shape. Immediately after, he furrows his brows once again, his body slumping forward a bit because: why on God's green earth are you here? Then, it hits him like a truck, the aftermath of the collision blowing the remaining sleep out of his eyes: it's Thursday afternoon!

"Sorry," he says and sheepishly scratches the back of his head, then steps aside to let you enter.

"It's fine, it's only freezing cold outside," you stare at him before stepping in, shudder as you kick your shoes off, slip into Mingi's guest slippers and hurry inside. Mingi's brain does not register the sarcasm drenching your words.

"Let's get to it, shall we?" You ask as Mingi finally manages to follow you into the kitchen. You sit, take out a few sheets of paper from your backpack, then look over questioningly as Mingi has not even moved a millimeter, but instead started yawning like his life depends on it. Your eyes drift down his body. "Or maybe after you've put on some pants?"

Mingi freezes, looks down to confirm that, indeed, he's not wearing pants, but Naruto boxer shorts, then covers his crotch with his hands and buzzes off into his room.

Minutes later, Mingi reenters the kitchen, a pair of sweatpants hanging low on his hips that, yes, he checked twice if he's wearing them the right way around. As mentioned, he is generally unable to properly focus on his studies, but today, it's exceptionally bad. Of course, you'd notice.

"Mingi, are you okay?" There's worry in your eyes – a sight Mingi has not seen. Ever.

"I'm fine, just tired," he mumbles, eyes unfocusing as he stares ahead.

"Yeah, you are? Why?" Mingi's tired mind cannot question why you suddenly seem so interested in his well-being. He also doesn't put any meaning into why you're scooting closer to him, your forearm accidentally touching his.

"I studied during my lunch break," Mingi informs you, a little, proud smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Something tingles inside his chest as you carefully place your hand on his arm. As he looks over at you, you smile at him, and he notices your gaze flickering down to his lips for a second.

Hold on. Mingi's mind suddenly snaps out of its hazy state and works on overdrive. He might be the type to vibe, the type to just let things play out, but he'd be damned if he didn't notice when someone likes him like that. He suddenly notices the way you started creating skin-on-skin contact with him, the way you want to be closer to him, eyeing him even more than you ever did before. Just... why? Is it because you saw him in his Anime panties?

A few moments pass, and you sit back, then pat your pencil against the book to remind him of the reason why you're actually here. Mingi groans, admittedly a little dramatically and unreasonably erotic, brushing a hand through his hair to flex his biceps right in front of your face. You seem unimpressed.

"Well, fuck me," he chuckles deeply, the rasp in his voice more evident than usual due to his nap. It's then when you tense, he notices from the corner of his eye. Oh. Okay. So it's the voice?

"I'm really glad you're tutoring me, you know?" He purrs, throwing in a little praise to get you extra bothered, and you simply breathe out nervously.

"Heh, no worries," you brush him off. Mingi decides that, for now, he's made you suffer enough and keeps quiet. Instead, he focusses on his studies, although he's already planning his next step to terrorize you with the sultry rasp his vocal cords are gifted with.

"Mingi, focus-"

"No, I get what I have to do, the contents just won't stay in my head." Mingi reasons, his voice unusually, but not by chance, high pitched, eyebrows scrunched as to why the hell he has to do this before doing that only to do whatever next when it wasn't like this for the other exercise he had to do minutes prior. He is not stupid (!), he does understand how this works. It's just that it doesn't make sense, and that is surely not his fault.

"Are you stup-" you start, but shut your mouth before you're even able to call him the dumbest fucker you've ever crossed paths with. Mingi inhales sharply. Oh, oh, you're lucky he is patient, and you're lucky he knows that as soon as he growled a few dirty words into your ear, you'd slam your upper body on the counter without regards of caution, pushing your panties down under your skirt and begging him to take you right there - or at least, that's what he imagines.

Yes, Mingi is super patient, that's just what comes with the entire vibe-personality package, so he does not dump your cute sorry ass on his baka-door mat, but simply closes his pen, lays it on the table and looks at you. A fabulous idea plops into his mind.

"God," he groans as deeply as he can, stretching his arms over his head, "I guess I'm just a little" - he throws in a little moany sigh - "a little distracted today."

"A-are you?" You nod, biting your lip subconsciously. Mingi looks at you without moving his head. "Why?"

"Well, just stuff, you know?" Mingi enjoys how the rumble in his voice makes his throat and - obviously - you feel. "There's just a lot, going on. Like big... big stuff. Stuff that just keeps coming and coming, in and out, just like that. Ugh, I wish I could just let all this frustration out you know, all this pent up stuff." He watches for your reaction.

Unmistakably, your hand holding your own pen in a relaxed manner mere seconds ago now desperately grasps the poor objects until your knuckles turn white, your breathing is uneven and loud as if you'd just ran the entire way from Mingi's place to the next convenience store (seriously, why the fuck is he paying so much for this godforsaken apartment?). And - Mingi's favorite reaction to him ever: you're pressing your thighs together.

Oh, how Mingi loves himself a good reaction like this.

"Big stuff, huh?" Your voice trembles as your nervous eyes search for his. "H-how big?"

"Oh, really big. Just really fucking big," Mingi confirms with a slight smirk. He loves how you just fold easily like that. One second, you're over there feeling superior on your little throne of knowledge that Mingi lacks, and the next, you're making a little mess in your panties just because Mingi so much as spoke. Absolutely incredible. People should start calling him "the rizzler".

"I think-" you clear your throat, "I think I should head home then?"

Mingi smiles to himself as soon as you turn away to pack your stuff into your backpack. His hands automatically reach out to play with his pen, his long, slender fingers toying with the object, inevitably drawing your attention to the movements. "Already?"

"Mhm." You stare a second too long, gulp, then hastily stuff your belongings into the big compartment of the backpack, Mingi listens to the sweet melody of stressed breathing and papers crunching.

As amused as he is, he decides that it is time for the big reveal.

"Keep it in your pants, baby" he looks over, his eyebrow halfway raised, and stops rocking back and forth and fiddling with the pencil as you freeze in your tracks and stop packing. "What?"

Slowly, you turn your head to look at him. "So you know?" You manage to squeak.

Mingi smugly pushes his tongue into his cheek. He loves how you're basically vibrating out of nervousness. "Oh, I know."

You sigh, hands finally letting go of your stuff and motioning defeat. He wonders what's going on in your mind right now. Are you afraid he's going to call you out? That he's going to make fun of you? That he's going to call you a needy slut and send you home? Or are you wondering if he's going to give you what you want? Mingi loves this game.

That's why he decides to make your situation a little more miserable.

"I also know that you think I'm stupid," he explains calmly, trying his best to no longer show any excitement, smugness, or any emotion whatsoever on his sharp facial features to really confuse you. Well, that's what you're getting for (almost) calling The Song Mingi stupid. Just a little payback, is all. He's not going to go so far and make you cry. No, no, Mingi can't handle when people cry, much less so if it's because of him.

Nevertheless, your breath hitches. Oh, you're fully aware that he didn't like you calling him that at all. Oh, how the gears are turning behind your forehead as you're trying to figure out what's going on, and what's going to go on in the next minutes.

"Thought so," Mingi deadpans. Yeah, that's right. Look how smart he is now! Super smart! He's got you all figured out. He knows exactly what to say and how to act to make you feel - and, fuck, does this feel like redemption - stupid.

"I'm sorry-" you start, back facing Mingi's form, but Mingi is not here for it. Mingi has gotten what Mingi wants. Mingi feels as powerful as he imagines a lion to feel, like, every day.

"Dumb fucks good," he simply states, just putting it out there, throwing it into the room for you to do with that statement whatever you like. Mingi's mind is already satisfied, his ego stroked because he's just proven that he isn't dumb. Although... he wouldn't mind a little diddling because, if he's being honest, you're hot as fuck and seeing you react to him in this way- well, he's also just a man!

"What?" You probably think you must've terribly misheard him as you whip your head around to face the confident Mingi smugly leaned back in his chair. Your eyes meet his, and he is sure that you now realize that, no, you definitely did not mishear him. That was exactly what he said.

In the blink of an eye, Mingi feels your presence on his lap, a last final look into his eyes before he feels your lips against his, desperately chewing away the remaining air separating his spit from yours. It's messy, lips colliding, too much teeth and tongue, but it's all raw and desperate. Mingi gets the vibes that you may have had some pent up want for him, but that's honestly the last clear thought he can muster before you grind your hips against his.

A deep groan escapes Mingi's lips, inevitably echoing against your own quiet gasps that just turn louder with every movement of your hips, your hands frantically trying to touch him everywhere at once to the point where he has to grab your arms and pull you back. Your eyes, wide. And confused, but somehow lidded and hazy at the same time struggle to take in Mingi in front of you. Yes, Mingi is aware of the effect of his siren eyes.

For another moment, he simply enjoys seeing how destroyed you look already, but honestly, there is just one thing on his mind.

"I'm gonna eat you out," he informs, waiting for you to nod frantically, whine and scramble off his lap for him to keep his promise. And you do, allowing Mingi to grab your waist with his large hands and lift you onto the counter. Of course, he can't resist getting another taste of your lips, almost losing himself in the soft pillows that frame your pretty mouth, but the hardness creating a tent in his sweatpants reminds him that he should possible attend a little lower.

Hence, he kisses his way over your cheek towards your jaw, then over your neck and down your collarbones. Mingi is not sure what your opinions on love bites are, so he just hopes you can remember him being right here and here and here even without visual proof, he can save that for next time.

Okay, Mingi admittedly was not able to hold himself back completely, his teeth only gently nipping at your skin on his way down. He simply hopes for the best, but your sounds seem to imply that you do not mind him one bit. Instead, you sound as if you wouldn't mind him taking a few bites more.

Impatient as you are, you assist Mingi in pushing your shirt out of the way, the straps of your bra automatically falling down your shoulders to reveal more of you to his hungry eyes.

And as much as Mingi would like to spend hours playing with your chest, he keeps it down to a minimum, kissing the soft flesh while gently pushing the remaining material out of the way for better access. His lips wrap around a nipple, his hands meanwhile busy with massaging the other and carefully holding your waist. God, Mingi loves boobs. But he might love the way your fingers comb through his hair and gently pull on it a bit more even.

Finally, the time has come, and Mingi kneels down on the floor. Pushing your skirt up, hands caressing your thighs, he creates eye contact with your eyes glazed over by lust and want. It doesn't even faze him that he hasn't cleaned these floors in weeks, honestly, he is in so deep he probably wouldn't even realize if the stove was on, lighting his study notes on fire.

He wants to tease you more, make you wait, maybe make you beg even, but he just feels too hungry to keep waiting. His fingers hook into the hem of your panties, pulling them down your legs as quickly as possible before spreading your legs and groaning in anticipation.

Throwing your thighs over his shoulders, he pulls you forward a little further, chuckling as you almost lose balance and smile at him. Okay, maybe Mingi feels a little tingle, and maybe that is not a horny tingle, but that's something to worry about later, if ever. Right now, he has a mission: dive in.

So that's what he does, obviously, planting a careful kiss right on your clit to wait for your reaction. And you do not disappoint, gasping slightly at the first sensation before getting louder and bolder the more Mingi tastes you.

His tongue gently parts your folds, getting a first taste of your juices. You basically cry out as his tongue prods at your hole, carefully easing its way inside to caress your walls.

Automatically, your hands fly to his hair, gently pulling at the roots to find a way to ground yourself, the feeling assumingely overwhelming, Mingi thinks, not to brag, but-

Mingi's eyes roll back at a particularly hard tug at his hair, paired with the way your hips grind closer until you're basically riding his face. Fuck, how are you so hot? Mingi's fingers grab hard at your thighs, loving the way the soft flesh feels in his hands.

To experiment a little more and, first and foremost, to get more rewarding reactions out of you, Mingi lets his mouth wander back up to your clit, gently sucking the nub between his lips, his tongue carefully flicking as not to overwhelm you. At the same time, a fingers sneaks its way over to circle your entrance.

Your throat coughs out a broken moan at this, your eyes switching between looking at Mingi's eyes and his mouth, and closing completely. Mingi loves taking in the pleasure written all over your face. He might not admit it, but he loves this kind of praise much more than verbal praise because your body really can't lie. He can literally taste how good he is at this.

He finally pushes his finger inside, loving how the wetness and muscle contractions are basically pulling him deeper and deeper until past his second knuckle. He feels around a little, trying to find the spots that seem to appeal to you the most, watching carefully how you react to each and every flick of his wrist.

Although, he feels that one finger is not enough to prepare you for the rest of him, so he adds another, massaging them into the spot that seems to be making you see stars with the way you grip his hair even tighter and mutter something he interprets as a warning that you're about to cum.

Keeping his pace, he successfully sends you over the edge, letting you ride out your high on his tongue before removing his lips, only getting his fingers massage the last clenches out of you.

Looking up he realizes you look, respectfully, wrecked, with your chest heaving, your hair a little messy and your eyes hazy and glossy, parted lips asking for his. And who is he to deny them, as he leans in to allow you to taste yourself. You seem to like it.

Pulling back after a while, he looks at you. You look so happy and relaxed like he's never seen before. For some reason, it reminds him of the weight in his pants that he suddenly feels the need to inform you about.

"You make me so hard," Mingi says lowly, carefully taking your hand to prove it to you, "feel." It's more your hand guiding his with how fast you reach down to feel him, eager to touch the outline of him through the sweatpants. And as if you're getting paid to stroke Mingi's ego even more, you gasp at his size.

Mingi can't help but smirk, of course, who wouldn't?

"Big stuff, huh?" You repeat your words from earlier, but this time no longer nervous, but cheeky as you bite your lip playfully. Oh, how Mingi would love to make you choke on his dick right now, just a little, and in a loving matter, but he's honestly waited long enough and he really just needs to be in you right now. And besides, Mingi is more in his giving > receiving era.

Instead, he grins. And he feels like there is something more.

Impatiently, you tug at his pants, successfully moving them a millimeter. Mingi helps you push his pants further down until it pools around his ankles. You giggle.

Damnit, Mingi. Why couldn't you've changed your underwear? Mingi mentally scolds himself, a good amount of his previously earned smugness flying out the window. Instead, he gives you kind of a sheepish look.

"I don't mind," you assure, tugging at his anime boxers next, "it's actually relieving to be reminded that you're still the cute, dorky Mingi and are not possessed by a sex demon."

"Incubus," Mingi points out.

"I don't fucking care. Just get this hideous thing off and have sex with me!"

Mingi does not need to be told twice, although he makes a mental note to scold you later for calling the one and only Naruto printed on a piece of fabric shielding his balls from the outside world hideous.

"God, fuck," you let out, and Mingi chuckles at your reaction to his naked lower half, "come here. Please."

You pull him closer, wrap your legs around him and beg him with your eyes. Mingi wastes not another second, aligning himself with your hole and slowly pushing forwards. Your eyes roll back as he enters you, causing you to hold onto him for dear life as he inches inside, filling you completely.

God, must your walls hug him so perfectly? Must you be so unbelievably wet just for him? Must you make these sounds? Mingi feels like he doesn't want to be inside anyone else ever again.

"I feel like I don't want to inside anything else ever again."

How did that get out there?

You chuckle, and have the nerve to pinch his cheek, as if he wasn't balls deep buried inside you right now. "You're so cute."

Cute?!

Mingi will show you cute. He grabs your jaw, admittedly still gently, and makes you look at him as he pulls almost all the way out until his tip catches at your entrance. "Cute?" And he pushes in all the way all at once. You moan, the feeling too much, too intense for you to still keep your eyes open. Helplessly, you cling to Mingi's body as he repeats the action 4 more times before setting a steady rhythm, angling his hips in a way that should stimulate the spot you liked so much earlier.

With your mouth hanging open and your eyebrows scrunched, you look like the prettiest thing Mingi's ever seen. He wants to see you drool, watch you completely lose your mind over nothing else but his cock. At the same time, he is surprised how good it feels. Well, not surprised that it feels good, but that it feels abnormally good, like he's about to nut in the next minute or so. Hopefully, he's able to coax another high out of you before that.

"What was it that riled you up so much earlier? My voice?" He growls, and you as much as whimper in return. "Yeah, like it that my voice is so deep?" You nod pathetically. "Cute."

"Mingi- 's so good."

"Yeah, am I fucking you good?" Mingi grins and you nod weakly, struggling to keep your eyes open. Mingi really shouldn't be the one talking big because honestly, he feels like if u moan one more time, if ur walls clench around him one more time, he is going to lose it. Something about this entire situation is just super surreal to him, or maybe it's simply you that is the reason for his premature high that is coming for him with fast steps.

"Fuck, baby," he groans, kissing your cheek before whispering, "can I please cum inside?"

"Shit, y-yes," you confirm, nodding quickly as you fight your hardest battle to keep your eyes open, focused and on the man that's currently grinding his tip into your sweet spot. Mingi feels like he loves you.

Mingi also feels like he's loosing his grip on reality, which is why he grabs your hips harder than before, using his strength to really slam his hips into yours with force, drowning his thoughts with the sounds of your moans. There is nothing on his mind except for you, you, you, and the primal need to make you his.

"Please," he groans, not quite sure what he's begging for, but it doesn't really matter in the end, does it? All that matters is that Mingi's ears catch the way you're begging him to cum for you, to fill you up, to please, please finish inside. He is not going to deny you that wish.

His hips stutter, his mind goes numb as he feels his muscles tighten and contract, releasing deep inside you. The feeling spreads in his body, feeling high and happy with such a forceful orgasm like this one.

Everything after is just a blur in his mind, he just remembers realizing that you didn't cum a second time, and he wouldn't be Mingi if he kept it that way. That's why he found himself back on his knees seconds after pulling out, sucking your clit back into his mouth, tasting his own release that's threatening to drip out if it wasn't for his fast fingers pumping in and out of you to push you over the edge.

It doesn't take long until you do, orgasm fueled by the lewd action of Mingi eating his own cum out of you, he assumes. Somehow, you two end up in his bed after, mostly because Mingi is a cuddler, partly because Mingi is not able to let you go yet. Or ever. Who knows.

#mingi smut #ateez mingi smut #song mingi smut #ateez smut #ateez fic #ateez fanfic #ateez mingi #ateez song mingi #kpop #smut #kpop smut #fem reader #ateez x reader #mingi x reader

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atrwriting · 6 months

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kisses and other sweet things (part 2) -- billy the kid x cowgirl!reader

hey party people :) posting this when I should be studying HAHA

send good vibes for my civil procedure final tomorrow many thx <3

I watched the scene where billy and ollinger fight and this very much inspired it lol enjoy

as always, warnings: smuuuut, p in v, unprotected sex (WRAP IT), dom!billy, brat!reader, violence, blood, pussy slapping, overstimulation

thank you all for reading!!! I love you all so much!!!!

ANYWAYS... part two:

neither one of you told… but it didn’t take long for the others to sniff the air and have an inkling for how the wind changed overnight.

in all honesty, it was billy’s fault.

the man found every way to remain close enough to be considered by your side since that night.

he would sit by you at dinner. he wouldn’t touch another woman. he always looked at you when he told a joke. he always looked at you when someone else said something funny. that joyful twinkle in his eye was reserved for you, and only you, and everyone had picked up on it. not to mention — he’d not only check his horse — but yours as well.

everyone knew what was up. everyone. absolutely everyone.

billy made it abundantly clear without even uttering a word that you two had participated in something similar to carnal relationship.

…but, in all honesty, you didn’t mind.

you would’ve preferred to talk about it, sure. what prevented you from bringing that up to billy was that you didn’t have to pry respect and loyalty out of him — the man just did it, and because he wanted to. it was… okay, fuck it — you have to admit it to yourself: it was nice. billy the kid showing you slightly more than common decency and general enjoyment of your company was nice. you were worried about bringing it up to him at the idea of losing the potential staple of someone having your back, and them trusting you enough to have theirs.

you were fucked. totally fucked. absolutely fucked. no way around it.

the man was a mysterious fuck, as well — looked at you like you were an angel, but has fucked you like even the devil would avert its eyes from the debauchery. respected in the streets, and disrespected in the sheets — every woman’s dreams.

the one unfortunate aspect was… the others. you can usually ignore everyone, and anything — only way to get through life. however, the severity of the teasing had begun to worry you.

it first began with a curt up-down look of when billy always found his way to dismount from his horse and walk next to you. it wasn’t like he was guarding you, no… neither was he following you like a puppy. it was like there was a new form of respect there — and given the fact that most of the men still looked at you like you were just a silly girl, they noticed it. for a split second, in your stupid mind, you thought it would maybe make the rest of the men treat you better — but how could you ever think that? you rolled with these guys because their very existence was about disrespect and taking for themselves.

billy had made you bot outsiders — more than you already were.

like… maybe you weren’t together… but you had each other. you weren’t sure if you could count on him yet — but his actions were… well, they confused you. and you weren’t sure if it was a good or bad confusion yet.

there had been very few moments of privacy, so you were not able to catch him alone and speak about what happened. at first, you figured you both would go about your lives as usual… not wanting to expect too much from a man who appeared to live as he wanted when he wanted to. however… you didn’t expect that how he wanted to live his life was, well — apparently by your side.

unfortunately, thinking things over was not a freedom given to you without obstacles. many of them began giving you and him looks — and then the teasing started. instead of being known by name or a nickname, the men could be heard calling you “billy’s girl” in hushed tones.

you feared the day they finally bucked up the jewels and called you his whore. you knew it was coming — you didn't want it to happen, but you knew it was. you couldn't afford to be naive.

if anyone else called you his girl — you might’ve blushed. you almost relished in it. however, when men who barely respected women called you that and you both worked with them — you knew they didn’t mean it fondly. it annoyed you, especially when you hadn’t been able to even talk about it with billy.

were you his girl? were you a fling? would billy fuck another woman if given the chance? and honestly, did he tell anyone?

questions ran through your head with very few conclusions approaching. you thought their teasing would be the worst of the worst — until it wasn’t.

no… the worst was when billy had fought one of them.

a few days after the teasing had begun to get bad, you had finally stopped at another boarding house and bar with the other boys. you figured you would retire early and let them have their fun — but that would not be the case.

when you eventually had drank your share of booze and went upstairs when the girls came around, that was when ollinger had opened his big, fat mouth.

“when billy’s done, can i get a turn?”

you froze in your tracks.

this was your worst fear — losing their respect. you had worked tirelessly to earn it, and there had been times where you felt like you never did. you may never have had their actually respect, the kind they give to men — but they never did something like that. and when all of them laughed, and began to hoot and holler — that’s when you knew where you stood with them.

fucking billy.

but that wouldn't stop you, no. they brought you on because you were a pretty thing with claws — and that's what they were going to get.

“known you longer than i’ve known him. can’t say you’ve ever peaked my interest,” you spat as you turned around to face him from a few feet away. “don’t know if you’re man enough.”

he stood then, eyes wild. he held the neck of a bottle in one hand and immediately took a swig, appearing to ignite the fire in his eyes and the aggression in his steps toward you.

“you want me to show you a real man, sweetheart?”

you took a step forward, afraid to back down. you narrowed your eyes at him. “you want me to show you how i’m a better shot than you, sweetheart?”

he stepped closer to you then. you didn’t budge — you weren’t sure if that was out of pride or fear. when he stepped closer, the stench of liquor leaked from his mouth like smoke from a wildfire. a smirk was plastered on his face, and staying still and silent was the only thing you could do to hold your ground.

“you know what that makes you, right?” he spat in a low tone. “makes you billy’s whore.”

you couldn't help it — your face twisted with shame and anger. your vision was going almost as red as ollinger's, and you weren't sure if both of you would survive the next action that came from you. before you could process the impact of his words, let alone respond — billy spoke up.

“shut your mouth, ollinger.”

your eyes flickered over to where billy stood with his hands balled at his sides.

ollinger took another swig of his bottle before he turned and stalked over to billy. billy didn’t flinch, but simply watched a drunk ollinger try to keep his cool. the entire group watched — and waited.

“you don’t tell me what to do, boy,” ollinger sneered, clutching his bottle. “you ain’t special. i ain’t never seen anything special about you.”

billy reached for his gun, but did not pull it out. billy’s hands were shaky, and that’s when you realized it — he was drunk too. “alright then — let’s fight it out.”

“i ain’t fightin’ you with a gun.” ollinger brushed off billy’s comment with another careless swig of his drink. “you ain’t that important.”

“then let’s fight with our fuckin’ fists.” billy discarded his gun and the belt it was usually kept in. “like men.”

ollinger’s eyes showed a peak of interest.

your eyes… well, they showed terror.

ollinger walked towards billy with a dip of his chin that suggested he would enjoy the aspect of hurting billy more than winning anything over billy. ollinger already thought he was better than billy, he didn’t need to win anything — but that look in his eye? when predator was threatened by another?

without his gun, you were worried for billy. frankly, billy should’ve shown it — or at least you thought he would. ollinger had at least a decade of years, strength, and experience on billy. not to mention — ollinger has also had a vendetta against billy since they met.

ollinger immediately threw of his belt. “i’ll beat your ass any day.”

as ollinger drained the rest of the bottle, you could hear the hollering of the other men around you as they drew closer. ollinger threw the bottle to the ground and stalked towards billy.

as billy was about to start pulling off his vest, you stepped up to intervene.

you’d at least like to talk to him before he died.

however, jesse stepped in front of you. “can’t get in the way of two men fighting, doll.”

you raised your eyebrow at jesse. “ill cut your cock off.”

jesse only laughed, but kept his arm outstretched in front of you.

with years of experience… you thought ollinger would fight fair — but he caught billy with a jab before billy could get his vest off. you lunged for the pair, but jesse and some of the others held you back.

you didn’t know what to do. sure, you believed in billy — but the man had a tendency of getting his shit rocked in hand to hand combat.

ollinger let out an excited battle cry — and your hate sank into your stomach. billy struggled to get up as you fought against jesse.

“come on, billy!” ollinger baited. “come on, billy!”

you watched the look in billy’s eyes then — assessing the threat. billy immediately dodged a punch over his head, came back up, and started slamming ollinger’s head against a wooden post.

the excitement of the men around you slightly died as they realized that billy didn’t fight like other men — he had no interest in punching, or relishing in getting a lick in. he went straight for a possible kill shot, grunting as he hoped to subdue ollinger.

there would be no stopping either of them. you relented against jesse’s arm, staring at the two men. your mouth parted in horror, and your stomach dropped at the sight.

billy eventually threw him over the picnic table like he was nothing more than a sack of flour. his grunts were predatory — powerful and fucking masculine. fighting was fun for ollinger — but this? this? for billy? this was necessity. he didn’t care about asserting dominance — he cared about being left the fuck alone. he needed to make sure ollinger never fucked about him again. dominance was worth nothing if you didn't have survival.

billy, still intoxicated, stumbled over to where he had thrown ollinger — but ollinger was too quick. he grabbed billy by the boot and threw him back. billy landed on his ass, and you watched in fear as ollinger stomped toward him. his eyes were wild and his mouth was curled into a bloody snarl. you wanted to get involved, you knew you should’ve — but what could you do? this was what happened when you rolled with men like this — they had to fight this out themselves, or they would become everyone’s problem. you hated it — every fucking minute of it — because this problem started with ollinger’s disrespect for you and how you could cut his jewels off before he could even get a kiss in. poor billy…

but not poor billy.

no, not poor billy — because when ollinger stood over billy, billy kicked him so far backwards that ollinger then stumbled and fell on his ass.

billy was up in an instant, stumbling, and smacked the absolute shit out of ollinger with an open palm. ollinger flew backwards for a second time that night, and suddenly the men grew more excited watching the fight. all you could do was trail behind them — worried.

billy walked up to the porch and stood above ollinger, but ollinger’s wounded pride had gotten the better of him. he took billy by the cloth of his shoulders, and slammed him repeatedly against the wooden wall of the outside of the house. jesse and his friends were cheering on billy, but all you could hear was his pained grunts. and then, just then — the moonlight had caught billy’s face just right. his eyes were screwed shut as the pain registered from the blow — and blood was pouring down from his nose and into his mouth. billy fell against ollinger in exhaustion, and that was when pat garett started cheering louder and louder.

“please,” you whispered, helpless.

in an instant, billy had gotten his elbows up and clutched the shoulders of ollinger’s shirt. with (basically) a battle cry, he willed himself to push ollinger off of him, in front of him, and then in through the doors of where all of the other men were with their women.

you followed jesse, pat, and the others.

billy and ollinger immediately crashed into the floor of the house with grunts and screams. the men once getting blown or ridden were now cheering on the fight, and the women above them or at their feet were stunned and confused — worried about getting hit.

this time — billy had gotten up before ollinger. ollinger may have had years of experience on billy, but years were years: ollinger was old, and exhausted. billy stood up and began laying overhead punch after overhead punch onto ollinger.

“get up, ollinger!” he yelled, eyes black. “get the fuck up!”

immediately, billy pulled back. like you had thought — he didn’t need the kill shot, but he needed the threat subdued. billy was breathing heavy, he was bleeding… you were so worried for him. jesse pushed past you and grabbed billy’s arm, raising it above his head.

“boys, we got a winner!” jesse cheered before everyone followed in suit.

billy fell back against the nearest bed and sat down. it just so happened that was a bed that your oldest friend was sharing with a woman. stunned, the woman grabbed billy by the shoulders to steady him. she wiped some of the blood off of his face with his shirt. you were thankful — but then her smile turned big when she realized how handsome he was.

your blood boiled.

you watched at his big eyes darted up to her face as he tried to regain his composure. he took one look at her face, your friend, and got up.

he spat once on the floor, cleaning his mouth of any excess blood. over his shoulder, he threw, “no hard feelings, ollinger.”

and started straight towards you.

you stood there, in the back behind everyone, frozen in place. billy was in front of you in as little as five strides. thankfully she had wiped his face — because he only tasted vaguely like blood when he grabbed you by the face and pressed your lips to his.

he cupped your face with one hand, but it held you in place like he was the only thing that mattered in the world. with his finger stroking your cheek, you kissed him with every bit of fear, frustration, and excitement you had in you. your lips folded together like you two were the only ones in the room — and like everyone in the room wasn’t cheering for the clear winner of the fight, and the kiss with the girl the fight was started over.

billy had stood up for you. the one man who had actually ever done that.

against your lips, he whispered. “i know you could handle himself yourself — but you shouldn’t have had to.”

you giggled against his lips, yours stretching into a wide grin. he pecked your lips a couple of times, unable to get enough of being the only one to be able to do this. he replied, “never had much taste for these girls — had a different one in mind.”

“you gonna take her somewhere private, cowboy, or what?” you asked.

billy’s eyes twinkled with mischief before he bent low, and hauled you over his shoulder. your feet kicked in front of him as you struggled to hold your hat in place and keep your balance. you were shouting at him, but nothing could be heard over your giggles or everyone else’s whistling. with one firm arm circling your hips, keeping your ass in place with his massive hand, he kicked open the doors and brought you upstairs.

“billy, if you don’t put me down —“ you laughed, breathlessly. threats were futile. “i swear —“

“shhh, sweetheart — you know i’ll take care of you,” he responded.

billy found an empty bedroom and immediately went to work. he sat you down on a low dresser and immediately started going for your riding pants and shirt. you kicked off your boots and shimmied out of the fabric as billy stood over you.

with one hand pressed to your cheek, he kissed you once more. you pulled away to smile at him. you spoke, “thank you… for what you did.”

“ollinger needs to know when to shut his mouth,” he spoke, engulfing you in a kiss once more. “should’ve made a move if he was jealous. now i’m the only one who gets to have my face between these pretty thighs.”

he pulled you by the hips so you were almost hanging off the edge, your feet flat against the wood of the dresser. you were breathless as your head began to swim. billy got down on his knees, parted your thighs, and dove for your slit.

your head immediately hit the wall. you wanted to arch your back — keen towards him — but you had limited mobility. you were at the mercy of the man before you who was lapping at your clit like nothing else existed. you should've been worried about his injuries, the dried blood on your face... but you couldn't. you didn't. billy was satisfying every bit of desperation you had felt since that night and you were too strung out to fight him. strained moans left your lips as your hips began to buck into his face.

“billy, stop…” you whined. “i want you inside me…”

he didn’t listen. the man kept his tongue drawing all kinds of messy, wet circles around your sensitive bud that pulled every dirty whine out of you. in an instant, billy pushed two fingers into you and immediately started pumping them. you lost your breath — and your ability to speak coherent sentences as well. he was tapping against your upper wall, pining for that sweet spot that was gonna make you sing for him.

“fuck, fuck, fuck…” you cried. one of your hands found his tangled mess of curls and fisted your fingers through them. billy’s tongue was thick, hot, and the roof of it was rough as he shook his head against your center, increasing the friction. your hips and legs were spasming uncontrollably as a warm feeling spread from your abdomen. “jesus christ — you’re so mean.”

the air seemed to shift in that moment, but you were so lost you couldn’t comprehend. billy wrapped his cracked lips around your clit, and pulled at it and sucked. hard.

your eyes screwed shut as a cry vibrated through your chest and into your throat. it hurt, god it hurt, but in the most bittersweet way you could imagine. it was like pain and comfort all in one, delivered by the same hand, driving you into submission. every blood vessel was throbbing, throbbing, throbbing for billy’s movements and you couldn’t regain control — and you weren't sure you wanted to.

he suddenly pulled away. “you think i’m mean, sweetheart?”

his blue eyes pierced into yours when he picked up his head to face you. his eyes were raised in a manner that suggested he expected a response, but you were still in your daze. your eyes were glossy, your lips were puffy and parted, hoping he'd answer his question for you.

billy didn’t like that. with his free hand, he slapped your clit.

your body jolted, surprised at the sensation. it made your breath catch in your throat as all of your senses were on red alert... but it only made your pussy throb harder.

“billy…” you whispered, tears coming to your eyes. “you’re teasing me.”

his dry thumb began to rub circles around your sensitive clit, and the mixture of your slick and the rough skin of his dumb drew you into his control. in that moment — in that raw, vulnerable moment — you couldn’t think of anything else besides billy, and getting him to make you cum.

“mean, that it, sweetheart?” another slap to your clit. “you want me to show you mean?”

even in your haze, you were a brat at heart. with a smirk, yet shaking from how sensitive you were, you smirked at him. “don’t think you can.”

in an instant, he was on his feet. you struggled to ring out your tense muscles and stand with him, but billy wasn’t having it. he flipped you around so you were on your stomach on the dresser, legs hanging over the edge. billy pulled your hips up for you to stand on your toes, forcing your ass into the perfect position for him.

“slut for only me, huh?” he asked, kneading the skin of your ass in his hands. he slapped it once, twice, thrice — ripping little squeals from your petal pink lips. his thumb found its way into the outer folds of your pussy, barely entering. “won’t throw even a pity glance at anyone down there — but something about me just gets you this wet.”

he pushed his thumb into your sopping wet hole, and you squealed. you held onto the dresser to give yourself leverage to push yourself into his hand, but one of his hands held down your lower back.

“more, please…” you whispered.

“that smirk made me think you don’t deserve it,” he spat, still playing with your pretty pussy.

“billy —!” you screamed with exasperation. “please!”

with his thumb still in your pussy, billy leant down and wrapped an arm around your throat. with your neck in the crook of his elbow, he pulled your back to arch up towards him. billy placed his lips right by your ear, and spoke, “is that who’s got you this worked up, baby? huh? me? be sweet, and maybe i’ll kiss those pretty tears away.”

you hadn’t even noticed it — but he was right. your cheeks were stained with tear streaks that made them damp. with broken breaths, you spoke, “please — i promise.”

he began to pump his thumb into your pussy, while his other fingers worked light circles around your clit. “promise what?”

“that i’m — that i —“ you couldn’t get the words out. you were a struggling mess — clinging to the dresser with the little strength in your hands you could muster, and completely at the mercy of billy’s hold. his breath was hot against your face as heat rose throughout your body. “i —“

“fucked so dumb you can't use your words?”

“fuck —“ you cried, already almost succumbing to the feather light touches on your clit. “you’re the only one, billy — only one — please, just let me cum.”

“yeah?” he grunted. “gonna take what i give you?”

“anything, billy —“ you gasped. “please — just want you.”

billy kept his promise. he pressed his lips against your cheek, pushing your head slightly to the side. every muscle in your body was taut with trying to remain balanced and stay perked for every one of billy’s moments. his fingers in your clit began working faster and harder, and your body began to shake. you were so sensitive to everything around you — his kisses, his chokehold, his heat on your back, his fingers buried deep in your folds. you bucked his hips back into his hand, and everything exploded.

without billy’s hold, you would’ve collapse into the dresser. your knuckles were white as they bent, causing your nails to rip at the wood of the dresser. you back was arched completely towards the ceiling as you tried to remain in position. billy was whispering nasty, nasty, nasty things in your ear that coupled with your delicious moans.

“that’s it, baby, just keep cumming for me,” he rasped, groaning in your ear. “can be such a brat — but she’s got the prettiest pussy. i know what makes my girl tick.“

“yeah, yeah, yes —“ you cried, falling against billy’s shoulder. the world melted before you. your eyes were drifting open and closed. the haze had consumed your brain, and each of billy’s movements made a whine well up behind your closed lips. “fuck, billy, i can’t —“

his fingers didn’t stop, and you felt like you were about to collapse. “oh, sweetheart, too much for you?”

you were practically fucking sobbing at this point. “n-no-no—“

“greedy, baby,” he said, licking at your cheek. “thought you were gonna take everything i gave you?”

“your cock, billy — please —“

“naw, sweetheart,” he said stroking your cheek. “think you’re in over your pretty little head. can’t take anymore.”

“no, no, billy — i want your cock so bad —“ your whines were music to his fucking ears.

“yeah, baby?” he asked, shimmying off his pants. “you want my cock? think you can handle it?”

“i can, i can, i can —“ you chanted, your head swimming. you felt billy’s hands spread your ass, kneading the flesh in his hands. his cock slipped in through your folds until he bottomed out, pressing his hips firmly against your back side.

with billy’s mouth still so close to your ear, he rasped, “sucked my cock into you, doll. couldn’t help yourself, huh?”

you arched your backside into his hips, eagerly hoping to meet every thrust. billy had once hand holding your hips down, and the other was clutching the soft, supple skin of your throat. you could hear every labored breath of his, mixing with your own. this position was unlike any other: from the back was usually reserved for women of the night, but holding you? in such an intimate manner? with his lips dragging across the skin of your cheek? waiting for how you reacted to his touch?

you were a mess. mud in his hands — dirty and messy and everywhere —needing him to keep you together.

“nothin’ feels better than you inside me, billy,” you whined.

“i know, darlin’, i’ll always take care of you,” he groaned, lips pulling at your ear lobe which sent your nerve endings on fire. “don’t know how you do it t’me. y’let me, and i'll always be back in between these pretty thighs.”

the groan you let out was hoarse in the most feminine way. your hair was splayed out all around you, cascading down your back. with every thrust, your nipples, taut, hit the cool wood of the dresser and mirrored the smallest bit of pain you needed to leave reality. your skin was flushed and tainted with every touch and caress from billy he gave you. when he saw the blush on your cheeks, and the tears staining your long lashes — he could’ve come right then.

his girl. his pure, fucked out, sweet and scary girl. all his. a force to be reckoned with, but the prettiest sight to see. and you were all his.

however, he wasn’t through with you yet.

no. he was so mean, and he knew it — but he didn't care.

not when he had finally had you after so long.

it was right then that billy promised himself he would never neglect you for so long ever again. he knew that no one had ever touched, fucked, or loved you like he did. he knew that you never let anyone even get as close to him as you let him that night, and he would never forget that — nor would he be so careless as being ungrateful.

his girl — flushed, pink, and finally being able to know what it means to be so vulnerable with a man that she would never know an orgasm like this. he would set the fires of hell on anyone around you if it meant that you could feel this free, so wild, so yourself for the rest of your life. he knew what he had to do next.

he pulled out, and flipped you over so you were back against the wall and sitting up. he immediately stepped in between you and pushed your thighs and legs up so your calves would rest on his shoulders.

“need to feel how deep that pussy can squeeze me,” he grunted, pressing his cock into your folds.

you moaned at his words and movements, practically sand at this point. your body was numb and on fire and in water all at the same time — leaving you completely out of control. all you needed, no — craved was billy sending you over the edge. over the edge, please, over, over, over, need it billy, a pathetic mess you were, but neither of you would change it for the world.

billy began pistoning his hips into yours and you immediately leaned forward to grab onto his bulging biceps. you felt every hot breath hit your face with every thrust. the room was so hot, stuffy, humid, and yet you didn’t want it to end. all you could feel was your tight, soft walls squeezing the living hell out of billy and his beautiful cock.

“‘m gonna cum, billy,” you cried, squeezing your eyes shut.

“yeah, ‘cause you’re a good girl f’me, huh?” he bit. “always takin’ everything i give her. takes my cock so well.”

“only for you, baby,” you cried again, throwing your head back against the wall.

“oh — i don’t think so, sweetheart.” his thumb immediately went to your clit, drawing rough circles on the overstimulated rosebud. "i get to see those pretty eyes when you cum."

your body immediately went taut, sitting up. the slight shake of your limbs was apparent to both of you, and you let out little gasps because of how far you were driven from reality. his cock was pounding against that one sweet spot that made your knuckles white and your teeth bury themselves into the plump of your bottom lip.

“can’t,” you cried, tears beginning to flow once more. "oh, baby — i can't, i can't..."

“i know this pussy can handle it,” he bit. “what happened to being sweet, sugar? huh? goin’ back on your promise?”

his words were the last thing you heard before your body fell mercy to uncontrollable ecstasy. your mind, numb, was thrown back and forth between the throws of passion and the pull and push of billy’s hands bruising the flesh of your hips. you pressed your forehead to billy’s, sobbing through your gritted teeth. tears were pushing through your shut, wrinkled eyelids, and all you could hear was billy begging — coaxing that last orgasm out of you.

billy had won the fight, and he had earned every fucking orgasm he had given you that night. he needed it, he earned it, and he would not be denied it. testosterone was mixing with his blood, making his veins pound, and all he could think about how the scary and sweet girl he won a fight for was weak and needy for his touch.

desperate for a comfort that she hd only allowed him to give her.

he detached your foreheads so your faces were almost pressed together, sides of your noses touching. his lips were brushing against yours — but they weren't kissing you, no. instead, they were reminding you of exactly who you belonged to.

“sweetest fuckin’ girl i know.”

"luckiest guy in this whole thing — you get that? all fuckin' jealous of me."

“knows exactly what to do to fuckin’ please me.”

“pussy just won’t stop cumming, sugar? bet you hate me so much, huh?”

with one final pull of pleasure in your muscles, you screamed his name with a sob. a fucking sob. you were drenched in sweat, your own slick, and tears. fucking tears. they were everywhere — down your cheeks, your neck, and all over billy. your hands found the hair at the back of his neck, and you weaved your fingers through the tendrils for stability.

that was when billy’s orgasm hit him: when you were so weak you could do nothing but cling to him and cry for his touch.

the throaty groan that rumbled through his chest was unlike anything you ever heard. it was animalistic — a primal need was satisfied and everything in his body was singing at the release. he clutched your body to his and your skin warmed at the embrace. he delivered three final pumps into your puffy, pink pussy, and you couldn’t do anything besides take it. you didn't want to do anything else besides take it. the sound of his moans sent every hair on your body standing at attention and your fingers were stroking his soft skin for comfort.

“that’s it, baby,” you whispered, cockdrunk. “love when you're the only one that gets to use me like this.”

at that, he knew you'd be the death of him. he accepted it, and he was okay with it. — happy, even.

you were peppering kisses all over the side of his face as he was coming down from his high. a sleepy haze settled over his eyes, but instead he captured your lips into one final embrace.

“this is the second time this evening i’ve had my shit rocked tonight, darlin’, all because of you,” he whispered. “no dull moment with you, huh?”

“never, baby,” you whispered, letting your eyes fluttered closed as you leaned against him.

“good thing you’re mine,” he quipped, pressing a long and hard kiss to your cheek. “never could share a sweet thing like you.”

----

im buzzing after that

love u guys hehe

-L oxoxox

#william bonney #billy the kid #William h bonney #kid antrim #william h bonney x reader #william bonney smut #billy the kid 2022 #billy the kid smut #billy the kid x reader #billy x reader #billy smut #billy the kid imagine #billy imagine #William h bonney smut #tom Blyth #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow

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awritesthings1 · 6 months

Text

Gone with the Leaves

Pairing: Tommy Shelby / Wife Reader

Summary: Despite your happy marriage to Tommy, you feel an undeniable jealousy towards Lizzie. Perhaps a day in the forest will do you some good.

ao3 link

A/N: I'm starting a tag list, comment if you want to be added :)

“You write like you’re running out of time,” mused Lizzie Stark, former prostitute, now Tommy’s secretary. “They have typewriters for those types of things, y’know?”

You saw the volley of cannonballs that launched and subsequently landed on Tommy’s desk as the words left her mouth. It wasn’t that you expected more of poor old plain Lizzie, but you thought that the time she had spent lying on her back staring past the shoulder of a customer at the ceiling would have taught her to read a room. Nevertheless, she stood there, quite amused with herself, smiling stupidly at your husband.

Tommy, who had been sitting at his desk all afternoon attending to letters, the ledger, and god knows what else, peered up from the paper. “What did you say?”

This time, it was your turn to be amused. He pointed accusingly at Lizzie, who by then had realised her impetuous mistake. Her wide eyes fluttered to you desperately, like a bee that had indulged itself in so much pollen that it became stuck in its own honey. No, that was putting it lightly. She looked to you like a frightened child who knew exactly what kind of trouble they were in.

You made sure you looked the other way.

“It was only a silly joke,” came her spluttering apology.

Tommy squinted, and his mouth curled into a frown. Smoke chased the deep exhale from the cigarette hanging between his lips. Your husband carried this terrifying look to him that many feared. Without the peaky cap to cover his striking blue eyes, you saw his glare cut away the cords in Lizzie’s throat with just one look. How could poor Lizzie defend herself from eyes that had witnessed nightmarish things?

“I’m not clear. Is it funny that I sign my letters by hand, or are you above using ink now that you have graduated from the bed to the desk?”

Lizzie’s mouth wormed into a thin line, yet she still looked to you for help. Of what help she thought you would possibly spare, you weren’t sure. For once, Lizzie used initiative and showed herself out.

Your heels clacked across the wooden threshold of your husband’s office. Now that no one was there to disturb you both, you sat down on Tommy’s lap. By then, he was leaning back on his chair, work abandoned for the time being until he could wash the sour sight of Lizzie Stark from his eyes.

“You know I don’t like her,” you said plainly.

There was no need for fake smiles or lies with Tommy. You knew him, and he knew you.

Tommy exhaled loudly, stubbing out the last of his cigarette on his ashtray and taking a swig of whiskey before his calloused hand found your waist.

He clears his throat. “It’s only business with her.”

“I know, but that doesn’t mean I like her any less.”

Tommy loved you, not Lizzie Stark, yet you couldn’t stomach the undeniable jealousy that arose with her presence. Perhaps it was a natural inclination women had toward their lovers. Lizzie had never done anything outwardly wrong to you. So, what was it then that turned your plain teeth into hissing fangs?

Everyone knew that Tommy was one of her paying customers before you met him, but so were all of Small Heath. You never felt insecure in your relationship with Tommy; there was no need to feel threatened by a prostitute. Yet that wouldn’t stop the catty feline that emerged from its slumber when Lizzie’s wandering eyes battered at your husband.

No. Lizzie Stark would never know what it felt like to be loved by a man like Tommy. What you held in your hands each night was a transcendental, unconditional type of love—one that surpassed the heart and soul, which drew two beings together in the most unconventional yet fitting way. The way that covers kept you warm at night, Tommy watched over your hearth and kept the fire burning, even if he were on the other side of the country.

You closed your eyes, leaning into the valley between Tommy’s neck and shoulder as you listened for the bah-dum-bah-dum of his heart. They sat together in silence, cherishing each other’s presence, while Tommy rested his cheek on your head. Outside, the world waited, barking at their front door and scratching at the delicately carved wood. Even the rain lashed at the windowpanes, playing together like one elemental orchestra.

The hand not resting on your waist rose to gently stroke up and down your arm. You shivered, but it wasn’t from the cold.

“I think you have some work to attend to in the bedroom,” you mumbled into his neck.

Your nose searched for the spot where he applied his aftershave.

“Eh?” Came his gruff response.

Your hand wandered down his suit in answer.

The sheets were bundled around Tommy’s naked waist when you sauntered back over to the bed with his case of cigarettes in hand. Gratefully, he took the case from your hand, wrapping an arm around your shoulder to pull you into the warmth of his chest. Then he began the usual routine. He fished out a cigarette to offer, but you shook your head no, so he slid it once, then twice, across his bottom lip. On the bedside table, he grabbed the half-empty matchbox to light the cigarette.

Tommy was the resident chain smoker in your house. With an appetite for tobacco and whiskey, you often wondered just how he sustained himself throughout the day. Of course, there were the home-cooked meals at Arrow House waiting for his return, although that didn’t stop you from worrying any less. It was pathetic, really, sitting all alone in his study, twiddling your fingers, and sitting beneath his portrait like you were praying to him. Tommy was no god, no matter how much he tried to convince everyone else. Yet whenever headlights passed the window and lit up the office momentarily, you would stand up and peer out, hoping to spot your husband exiting the car.

He cleared his throat, drawing your attention back to the present. You loved watching the way the cigarette shifted between his lips when he spoke, even more when his hooded eyes looked over at you. Tommy was a man of few words, simply because he didn’t need language to communicate. His body spoke for him in tongues for all his enemies to understand. And more importantly, in a way your body understood.

Your hand abandoned his tattoo to stroke a thumb across his full bottom lip. Lust swelled there, eager to chase the rest of the night away into a haze of pleasure until the sun rose. As tempting as it was, you sighed at the thought. You would rather spend this time taking in your husband, remembering the fine details across his face and body, from the scar in the hollow of his cheek to the rough texture beneath his shoulder blade where a bullet was once lodged. You wanted to trace the sockets of his eyes the way a blind person would, treasuring each valley, mountain, and cut of skin as if it were to disappear the second you stopped touching him.

“You’re beautiful,” you decided, bathed in candlelight, tangled up between the sheets and Tommy’s arms.

Tommy’s brows furrowed, and the cigarette hung dangerously loose from where his lips curled into a frown. He grunted, clearly dissatisfied with your words. Tommy wasn’t beautiful. He was hard, ambitious, and unmovable force.

Beautiful was a conventional word savored for the finest women. To you? It meant so much more. Crafted in a way that would cause people to stare, sure, but there was also a poetic sense to the word. The type of beauty you would use to describe a well-written novel or heart-wrenching poem. Thomas Shelby stood for something, and that was beautiful.

“Then what are you, eh?”

A lazy smile floated onto your face, so much so that you had to bite your lip to refrain from looking devastatingly pleased at his answer.

A woman, a dreamer, a friend, a reader, an achiever. “A wife.”

He huffed, raising his eyebrows playfully.

Why was it that most women felt like they could only fit the frame of one? With Tommy, you were never limited to the endless possibilities. You treasured being a wife the same way you treasured your other roles. Marriage wasn’t the end all be all. Perhaps that’s another lie men spun—that perfectly capable women stopped existing as soon as a diamond ring slid onto their finger. How sad, you thought, to waste away all that potential when men were still free to pursue stupid ideas like war and dog fights.

Tommy was unbothered by traditional ideas like that. Change powered his ambition; he had no time for parallel lines. You could be his wife, a writer, a singer, or a mother—whatever you wanted—and he wouldn’t think of you any less.

You hummed, chasing that cigarette from his lips and stubbing it out in the ash tray by his bedside table. Tommy didn’t seem too heartbroken about it. In fact, there was some mirth in his gaze. His hands traced up your naked spine, pulling your body further into his until you could smell the smoke in his breath.

“Yes,” he breathed in loudly through his nose, “my wife.”

The following day, you were invited to the Basnett's hunting party. You would’ve been more enthusiastic to write about your excitement to attend if the whole ordeal hadn’t been so troublesome. Because a few days prior, when you were visiting your husband’s office, you had caught sight of the letter on Lizzie’s desk, a letter that was supposed to reach you days earlier.

“What’s this?” You asked.

“Oh, nothing interesting,” Lizzie had said, too occupied with filing her nails while on the clock.

You kept your composure for the sake of keeping the peace. You didn’t wish to disturb Tommy if he were to walk by.

“This is a letter addressed to me,” you pressed.

“Oh.” She stopped for a moment, then leaned over to read the letter you had pulled from the messy pile. “No, it’s addressed to Tommy.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Shelby,” you hissed quietly, with emphasis on the missus.

“Hm, I didn’t notice.”

“You are paid to notice.” You fought the urge to comment that she was paid for other things not long ago. “How long has this been sitting here?”

Lizzie tapped her cigarette ash into the tray. “The post boy dropped that lot off yesterday.”

Even if it was only two days late to reach your hand, by society’s standards, that may have well been taken as you snubbing the invitation. Frustratingly, you had to cancel your plans that day and personally deliver your letter to the Basnett’s door, citing some excuse of it having been lost in the post.

“That woman is up to no good.” You said glumly that night into Tommy’s chest.

“I’ll speak to her,” he promised in that stoic tone of his.

Whether he had been true to his words, you weren’t sure because Lizzie made an effort to avoid you when possible.

“Oh! Mrs. Shelby! How wonderful for you to join us! Come in, come in. The men are readying their rifles for the hunt outside. How exciting!” Gushed Lady Basnett, shooing you into the atrium of her lavish mansion.

Your riding boots clacked across the floor before being muffled by an intricately woven rug. You stared up at the chandelier, childishly wondering if it would hit you if it were to fall at that moment.

“Right this way, Mrs. Shelby!” Lady Basnett ushered excitably.

You debated if all her energy was for show—to please her husband and be the good wife he expected of her. After she showed you through to the veranda and down to the circle of wives who had gathered under the trees while their husbands readied for the hunt, you decided that no, she must truly enjoy planning social occasions like this, as evidenced by the way she kissed Sarah’s cheek in greeting with a wide grin.

It pleased you to know that Lady Basnett found joy in something. Ever since her eldest died in the war, she has been known to be a bit of a recluse.

“Oh, what a beautiful ring! May we see it?” Doe-eyed Catherine asked.

She was one of the younger wives, like yourself. Catherine married an older man, twice her senior. Many of the wives here faulted her for it behind her back, but not you. You saw more of yourself in her than you did in any of the other women. Because, despite the age gap, the girl seemed to be utterly head-over-heels in love with a man society deemed old-fashioned for her. And how could you blame her when you swore an oath to a gangster of all people?

You obliged and let the wives twist and turn your hand to better inspect the diamonds on your ring finger.

“It’s perfect!”

“How many carats?”

“My Mary would be so jealous!”

After dutifully showing your wedding ring, you noticed the men beginning to mount their horses.

Catherine hooked her arm around yours. “Come on, we are going to be left behind!”

She jovially pulled you along the stone tiles at a speed that made you grateful for wearing riding boots. The backyard was grand in the sense that the acres they owned stretched vastly into the nearby forest. Although there were impressive features, like the hedge they had grown into a maze and the trees that were shaped into birds.

“Lady Basnett owned an aviary of budgies. Dear little things they were, she was devastated when they all escaped one night after the groundskeeper forgot to close the door,” Catherine commented, having noticed the way your head was turned.

You laughed, because you could precisely picture Lady Basnett as the type to fawn over little budgies.

Catherine led you to the horses, where some of the wives were already perched, waiting for the party to leave. None of them carried rifles, but rather wicker baskets strapped to the saddle for the picnic they planned to have at the top of the hill while they waited for their husbands to finish hunting.

Together, you set off, having mounted the back of Catherine’s mare. Deeper into the forest you went, the black mare trotting over loose dirt and rocks. Both of you remained at the end of the pack, preferring to keep to yourselves in light conversation.

Then it all happened so suddenly. One of the rifles went off up ahead, and a flock of birds rushed at you from the break in the foliage, startling your mare. You gasped in shock and reached for Catherine’s jacket to hold on, but only skimmed her. She went face first into the dirt while you were swept into the air like a leaf and fell with the grace of a rock. The ground thundered as the mare galloped into the distance.

“Fuck!” Catherine spat.

(On her fall she had taken a mouthful of soil and leaves.)

“They’ll come back,” you tried to reassure her.

Hours later, the two of you still had not been found.

“I was a prostitute before George found me, y’know.”

No, you didn’t know.

“That’s why I’m so young and he so old,” she smiled fondly, laughing as if it were the most normal thing.

You couldn’t find it in your heart to dislike her because of her circumstances. She was your friend, and a true one at that.

What was it that Tommy said? The past is the past.

The sun began to set when one of the men from the hunting party found you both huddled together under a tree. Kindly, he let the two of you ride the rest of the way back despite your hesitance to mount another horse.

When you returned to Lady Basnett’s, with Catherine in arm, the sun had been set for at least two hours. You hadn’t realized what trouble you had gotten yourself into until you noticed Tommy’s Bentley parked in the crowded driveway of the mansion. Men stood at the gate, armed and waiting. Catherine opened her mouth to remark how ridiculous it was, but you kept your lips sealed after recognizing the guards to be Peaky Blinders.

Tommy had to be beside himself.

A young boy who was playing between the cars popped his head out when the gates squealed open. His ears perked up, and he ran inside, clutching his peaky cap, to probably inform the adults inside of your arrival. People pooled out onto the front steps, the women covering their hearts and sighing with relief, and the men holding their hats to their chests. But when your husband, Tommy, came storming out, they parted like the red sea.

He stalked across the gravel like a predator, his eyes trained on you with an unblinking stare.

“Are you hurt?” He ignored Catherine, cupping your face and frantically looking between both your eyes as if you would disappear.

Upon further inspection, his eyes were bloodshot, and the white sleeves of his blouse were bundled into the golden garters. Your hands itched to muse his disheveled hair into place, but with all the curious onlookers, you thought better of it.

“No.”

George, Catherine’s husband, was quick to whisk her away inside. You heard Lady Basnett’s voice trailing after them: “Oh my, what a terrible thing. Come now, let me pour you some tea.”

Unfortunately, tea wouldn’t make up for any lost ground with Tommy.

“We’re going.”

You knew better to open your mouth to disagree. This was Tommy being afraid and carrying on. He retreated into himself. It didn’t look pretty or like he cared, but he cared; you knew he cared. It was only that no one else was allowed to know that the great Thomas Shelby felt any emotion.

At Arrow House, he swallowed two glasses of whiskey before saying a word. You were pulling at the hem of the overcoat that Tommy had shook off his shoulders to give you for the ride home. Your fingers just couldn’t stand the anxious silence that rang throughout the room.

“What the fuck happened?”

He stood in front of you, stoic as a soldier but cracking around the exterior thanks to his hand, which itched for the cigarette case inside his pocket. (A nervous tick of his.) You grab his hand between your own before he can fish out the case.

“The horse got spooked. It bucked Catherine and me off, but we’re fine.”

His thumb rubs across your knuckles as he looks past your shoulder out the window.

“Do you know where I was when I got the call? Eh? I was handling some business when Lizzie came in and told me some posh old woman was on the line, saying you were missing.”

He exhaled sharply, dropping his gaze to you, where you noticed his eyes soften.

“I thought…” He broke off.

His chin dropped, and he went to itch his nose with his other hand.

“What did you think happened? Is there something I should know about?” Concern leaked into your voice.

“No,” he huffed, clearing his throat. “It doesn’t matter. You’re home, and you’re safe.”

You bit your lip to stop yourself from saying anything that might push him over the edge. He was fragile in a state like this in the sense that he pushed the stronger, more vivid feelings to the side because you were his wife, not a Peaky Blinder. No, you would never be, even though you married one.

Often, you would wish you could turn into the leaves that swept off the pavement and into the air. Imagine then how much easier life would be for you both—to forget the animosity of life and rise above it all, breathe in that crystal air, and then finally exclaim the truth because up there no one could hear them or cared enough to try anyway.

Cautiously, you let go of his hand and traced your fingertips up to knead away the tension in his jaw.

“Thomas… Do you remember what you asked of me? To help you with the whole fucking thing—”

“From now on—”

“Thomas—”

“From now on, let me know where you are going. I will organize a guard to watch over you.”

‘You write like you’re running out of time,’ Lizzie’s poorly placed joke from the start of the week reverberated in your skull.

Was he?

“I need you,” he breathed, the smell of whiskey fanning over your senses.

You nodded, pressing up on your toes to kiss him. A soft breath escaped him when you pulled away.

“You have me.”

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stevenose · 3 months

Text

being so normal (18+)

a continuation of this series of blurbs (untitled, adidas, puppy grin)

contains: steve x reader; shy!reader; reader with a vagina; gender neutral pronouns used for reader, but good girl is used once; oral; fingering; blue balls :/

you really shouldn’t have smoked. but when eddie offers it for free, you take it.

because now you can’t stop looking at steve. you’re fixated on him like a moth to a flame. he’s the only thing in the entire bowling alley you care about. maybe if you were sober that would scare you - but also, if you were sober, you wouldn’t be looking.

everyone’s talking about something. steve included. you watch his brows furrow gently while jonathan tells a story about getting too stoned in california. how his pink lips quirk up and then fall flat again. his brown eyes all soft before they narrow when robin makes a joke at his expense.

and his nose. it slopes downward so straight. like it was sculpted. pink from the alcohol beginning its course through his system. there’s a tiny little freckle on his nostril that you want to kiss.

you want to kiss him. it’s so overwhelming that it’s almost painful. you’d love nothing more than to crawl over the table separating you and kiss him til he’s breathless. til his face is red and his pupils are blown. til his hands grip bruises into your hips. til there’s spit trailing between you two. til it trails down lower, down towards your aching, needy -

you’re snapped out of it when eddie slams his ringed hand down on the table in front of you, making you jump.

your brows crinkle together comically slow. you feel like you just woke up. “huh?”

“does steve have somethin’ on his face?” eddie asks again, smiling big.

“i don’t see anything,” jonathan adds.

you falter. “what?”

it must be physically painful for steve to not look smug over this. you wonder if he knows you were staring. his eyes meet yours and you feel dizzy all over again, so needy and so yet nearly fearful of his attention.

he’s a much better actor than you.

steve waves his hand, looking away from you, brown eyes focusing on the bar. “we all stare when we’re stoned.”

“maybe i just think he looks funny,” you finally say, which seems to be sufficient enough. eddie guffaws loud enough to hear over the music and jonathan slaps steve’s back.

“i’m gonna get you for that,” steve says, in a tone so casual it shouldn’t make your stomach flip, but it still finds a way to.

“gonna make them car sick again?” nancy asks. her eyes feel like they’re boring into the side of your face. like she knows something. it makes sweat bead at your hairline, pulse quickening when she raises her brows at you for a second.

and as the men leave to get drunker, nancy and robin sit staring at you. you play with the sweating edge of your glass of ginger ale, bouncing your leg.

robin’s the first person to break the silence. she swats at you, expression somehow irritated and elated. “how stupid do you think we are?”

“what are you talking about?” you deadpan.

“come on,” nancy huffs.

you point to the monitor above your table. “it’s your turn, rob.”

“how long have you been sleeping together?” nancy presses.

you gawk and you hope, despite knowing that nancy wheeler is the smartest person in a one hundred mile radius, that she’s falling for your innocence. “why on earth do you think we’re…?”

“oh, seriously?” robin scoffs. “you can’t even say ‘fuck’?”

“no, really,” you urge, knee bouncing faster. “why do you think we’re doing something?”

“you’ve been getting rides from him,” nancy points out.

“he has driven me somewhere three times in six months,” you amend.

this seems to make them short circuit, opening their mouths to protest but unable to find any ammo. you’re pleased with this.

“and by your logic, then robin must be having sex with eddie.”

robin groans, repulsed. “that’s gross!”

“how do you think i feel?”

“then why were you staring at him?” nancy asks.

you reach for your ginger ale, taking a long sip. “he’s cute,” you settle on. “so what?”

“if you aren’t doing something, do you want to?” robin continues. “i can, like, totally help you out here if you do.”

“robin,” you grit. “enough.”

as grueling as it is, at the very least, this behavior reinforces why you didn’t want to share your situation with steve in the first place. everyone is so nosy - and the only one who really has a right to be is robin. if you’d let it slip that you were being intimate with steve, she’d be furious that he didn’t tell her. but this makes you feel worse for hiding it, and you feel a little sick as you take another swig of your drink.

“well, if you’re not doing anything,” nancy says slowly. “and if his driving made you sick, and that’s why you pulled over, then you wouldn’t mind jonathan and i taking you home. right?”

you blink. “right,” you reply after a pause.

she stares, unwavering. trying to make you break. “so jonathan and i will take you home, then.”

you nod. “right,” you repeat.

nancy’s so goddamn petty, you think, watching robin finally get up to bowl. totally ruining your impending orgasm, again, just to prove herself right. you were so looking forward to riding steve’s nose. you try your best to not look irritated as the game continues, even as the boys come back, eyes ignoring steve’s - well, ignoring steve’s everything. you act like his entire existence is meaningless to you until he finds you in the hallway leading to the bathrooms, half drunk and messy.

“heyheyheyheyhey,” he coos, grabbing you by the waist, pulling you in to his chest. your body becomes overwhelmingly hot at his attention all over again. "c'mere."

"steve," you squeak, "we can't -!"

but he pulls you into the bathroom anyway, pressing you against the door and twisting the lock until it clicks. his mouth is on yours before you can protest, kissing long and sweet and serene. you melt for half a second before turning your head to the side.

"steve," you breathe, grabbing onto his shirt while his lips trail down your neck. "steve, we can't - they're on to us -"

"i know," he says between kisses, annoyed. "jon and eddie wouldn't shut up about it."

you open your mouth to protest but a moan comes out instead.

“oh, there?” he asks, breathless, attaching his lips to your sweet spot.

“steve,” you moan, breathy and low. “we can’t - they’ll - they’ll kn-know -“

he sighs and pulls away, pouting. “what were you looking at me for earlier?”

you’re a little speechless under his gaze. “why do you think?” you whisper.

he licks his lips. “i think someone here’s upset they didn’t get to cum.” one hand rests firmly on your hip, the other snaking around to the small of your back.

you’re trapped. deliciously so.

“and i think you were thinkin’ about how good my nose feels on your clit.”

you shiver, staring at the collar of steve’s shirt.

“that true?” he asks softly.

“not - not totally.”

“well, do you want that?” his thumb plays with the waistband of your skirt, clawing at it, wanting in. “want me to make out with your pretty pussy again?”

overwhelmed, your eyes fall shut. “nancy - nancy’s taking me home.”

steve falters, eyes going soft. “is everything okay?”

“she’s on to us,” you repeat. “thinks if we aren’t doing anything then i wouldn’t mind going home with her. so - yes, i’d really love that, but i don’t think tonight-“

but steve drops to his knees, like you aren’t in a public restroom. his hands push your skirt up, exposing your still drenched underwear to him. you open your mouth to ask what the hell he thinks he’s doing, but his tongue is on you before you’re able to finish your thought.

“oh!”

steve’s fingers keep your underwear pushed off to the side - his prize of the night now stolen from him. if he could, he’d send you back out there with your pussy on display, your underwear tucked safely into his back pocket. but he’s a gentleman, so he resigns himself to snag a pair from you next time.

he always assumes there’s a next time.

“we - they’ll - find out,” you pant, knees weak, your hands reaching down to push his hair away from his face.

steve laughs, pulls away, licks his lips. “do you really think i can’t make you cum in five minutes?”

you hold onto his hair in a white knuckled grip, tugging, listening to him pant and moan beneath you. his tongue licks delicately up your folds before he sucks at your clit, kissing it, flicking his tongue out. then he ducks down a bit, lets his nose rub against your swollen bud while his tongue fucks you.

“oh my god,” you moan, eyes rolling.

“do you want them to know?” he asks, voice thick with you.

you realize you’re being too loud, but it’s impossible not to be. steve brings you to rapture in ways you never thought possible. you never thought it was possible with him. his pretty face between your thighs begs for you to praise it, to let everyone in this goddamn dive know what he’s doing to you.

“you have three minutes,” you shoot back, panting.

“yeah?” he presses a kiss to your folds. “aren’t i supposed to make you pay for teasin’ me earlier?”

white hot electric shoots through you. “n- no.”

steve laughs, raising a hand so his thumb can rub circles into your clit. you sigh, trying desperately to still your shaking legs. “don’t have to let you cum, y’know. could just wait and see how desperate you can get for me. see if i can get you to hump my leg.”

he doesn’t need three minutes. he needs one more minute, needs his dirty mouth running, needs to make you feel like a pervert, and that’s all it takes. his mouth engulfs you just as you’re cumming, lapping you up, moaning as he tastes you.

“shit,” he gasps, pulling away, chest heaving. “wish i had an hour with you.”

you still don’t look at him as you ask, “what would you do if you had an hour?”

“stretch you out on my fingers,” steve answers immediately. “wanna see how well you could take ‘em if we had the time. if that’s okay,” he adds.

you nod, swallowing hard, dizzy. “that would be very okay.”

“you think i could?” he’s still not getting up. “you’re so tight on my tongue, bet it’d take an hour to get two fingers in you.”

but he’s going to try now, his fingers creeping back up your thighs and between them where you’re sensitive and halfway to dripping.

“we don’t have an hour,” you remind him.

steve just hums, using his free hand to part your legs. he’s begging with his eyes. “but we have a minute, right?”

your head falls back against the door with a quick mhm.

“you’re so cute,” he muses, the tip of his middle finger teasing your entrance. “so beautiful, you know that?”

you want to scream. “i did not.”

“must not tell you enough then, huh?” if you looked down you’d see the absolute adoration in his eyes. “sorry about that, angel.”

steve still isn’t trying to push inside of you. he’s just watching, staring up at your pretty face, the way it twists, your lip quivering. it’s so fun to play with you. he could do this all night but he knows he has about five more seconds until you remind him of the time again.

“please?” you finally whimper.

“good girl,” he beams, sliding his finger inside of you, nice and slow. it’s a stretch for certain, making your mouth fall open in silent rapture. steve drinks you up, afraid to blink and miss something. “so tight, honey. don’t think i’ll ever be able to fuck you.”

you clench around him. “you want to?”

“do you?”

you nod, suffocating.

“yeah?” he says softly, pumping his finger once, twice, in and out of you. “gonna need more space than the car.”

you really aren’t listening. you nod vaguely, trying not to be too needy and roll your hips downwards.

his movements still. “what if i came over tonight?”

now you’re listening. you let your chin fall forward to look at him. “really?”

“yeah.” his hair bobs as he nods, his face turning pink. “get to take my time with you.”

“nancy’s taking me home,” you remind him.

“i’ll come after you’re dropped off. if you want.”

you nod quickly. “mhm. yeah. i do.”

it’s a major loss when he slides his finger out of you, but the sweet kiss he gives you makes up for it.

“clean up,” he says gently. “i’ll be out here.”

your eyes follow his fingers the rest of the night.

#steve harrington smut #stevenose posts #ns/fw #steve x reader #i’m obsessed w him ;/

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mochiwrites · 5 months

Text

Scar feels numb when he hits the succeed button.

He stands alone before the Secret Keeper, staring up at it’s blank face with an equally blank expression. The shock is still in effect, his brain still attempting to process it all.

He’s alive.

But no one else is.

He stands at the monument of the server, the center point of everything. The wind blows, and it feels wrong. He gains five more hearts. A new book appears before him. There is no one to cheer as he hits the succeed button. There is no one to yell ‘fail’ in his ears for someone else.

It’s just Scar, and his task, and a graveyard littered with holes. Pearl’s voice is still ringing in his ears, the way she sounded up until she died.

“How did the guy with no friends win?”

He doesn’t know. The Secret Keeper made him the villain of the server, he had no friends, no matter how hard he tried. His tasks always got in the way of it. Maybe it was easier that way, not having any true alliances. He knows first hand what it does to someone when they have to kill a partner to win.

Scar is alone now, truly alone. He turns around, keeping his back to the Secret Keeper as his eyes survey the spawn before him. It doesn’t sit right, the lack of people gathered around. Sure, their numbers had dwindled a bit during the last few sessions, but it wasn’t by much. The group got smaller, and now it’s just him. Just Scar, the villain.

A laugh bubbles out of his lips, and suddenly Scar can’t hold it in. His task falls out of his hands, hitting the ground and his arms wrap around his stomach as he doubles over with laughter.

“This is— this is one heck of a funny joke guys!” He’s laughing so much it’s hard to breathe. “I wasn’t even trying to win!” That’s what he had told Pearl. He didn’t think he’d survive this long. That’s only happened one other time and…. Well.

His laughter dances on the air, filling the space of nothingness. If he pretends, he can hear the others laughing with him, alongside him.

“You did all that to make me the bad guy. You kept me from making any friends!” A hand covers his face, holding it as his laughter shakes his body. “You guys made me the villain of the server and somehow I’m the last one standing!”

It’s so ridiculous. Maybe there’s some kind of irony in there, Scar can’t be bothered to look.

“How did the guy with no friends win?”

He doesn’t know, but it’s kind of funny. Scar stands alone at the end of the world, with nothing but the things in his inventory and a server full of craters. The big statue behind him stares down at him, but he doesn’t care about its gaze. He continues to laugh, because if he stops, he fears what’ll happen.

“No one thought this would happen, everyone doubted me.” Scar was with them. He didn’t think it’d happen either. Him? Scar? Winning a Life Game? Three hours ago he wouldn’t have believed it. “But what do ya know! Villains can win too, sometimes!”

He’s not sure if he can call this a win. He’s alone on an empty server, with no one around. Scar thought he knew what loneliness was, a cold mountain with deepslate walls and wooden ceilings. But this? This is real loneliness. There isn’t another person around for miles. Every base is destroyed and empty, carnage left behind.

There is nothing here for him.

Scar’s laughter slows to a stop. His stomach hurts. So does his face. He straightens, standing tall as he takes a deep breath. He looks down at his task on the ground.

Win Secret Life.

“Is this what it’s like?” He addresses his question to the sky. There is no one to answer him, but he knows his question will be seen. Scar looks back to the server.

It doesn’t feel much like a win at all.

#mochi writes #slsmp spoilers #secret life #goodtimeswithscar #THIS IS SO MESSY #AND DONE REALLY FAST #BUT I AM HAVING EMOTIONS #SOOOOO MANY EMOTIONS #YELLING AND SCREAMING

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crybaby-bkg · 3 months

Text

Gojo has always been a bit of a glutton. it’s his worst trait, you think, despite the many others that he inflicts upon you in your daily life. but, it’s just not enough for you. he does that with everyone, this kind, funny, flirtatious kind of banter. getou tells you he’s different with you, shoko makes note of how he’s really not like that with so many people.

but it’s not enough. so you start cooking up different things, these desserts intertwined with a certain potion that’ll make his attention be on solely you. you crush your flowers and sprinkle them into the boiling pot, sprinkle in a little bit of this and a dash of that, before you cut off a tiny piece of your hair and let it flutter into the concoction. it doesn’t let out a tuft of pink smoke in the shape of a heart, but you have faith that it’s gonna work.

“I’ll give you a piggyback ride if you let me have that,” Gojo tries to barter with you the next day he sees you, sitting under a tree and unwrapping the piece of cake that you had oh so conveniently whipped up. you pretend to think it over, unable to help your smile as you think about how easy this is going to be, before agreeing.

it happens over time, the effects of the love potion. first, Gojo becomes a bit more clingy. he hurries across campus to make sure that he’s able to walk you back to your apartment, carries all of your bags for you. then he starts buying you all sorts of things that you don’t necessarily need (do you want breakfast?, do you need a new laptop?, can I buy you a new bed?, can we break it in?).

and everything is great at first. you adore the attention, the grandeur way he asks you to be his partner, how he moves you in quick, loves you even quicker. but, after a while, it just becomes a bit…much.

his love is never ending, which shouldn’t be a bad thing, but his love is also—everything. it’s in every crevice of your body, every nook and cranny between the walls, every exhale you take. he’s there—always just there—always just close and lingering and clingy (where are you going? can I come with you? why are you looking at me like that? don’t you love me? I love you, I love you so much, so where are you going?)

it’s not until you’re suffocating that you realize your mistake, all too late. Gojo is all encompassing, takes up all the space in your head and your line of vision and your breaths and the blood that flows in your veins. he loves you—this was what you wanted, right?—but you never wanted this, this obsession that bleeds from his very being every second that he’s near you, which is every second of every single fucking day. you never wanted any of this.

“Baby?” Gojo calls from the other side of the locked door, clawing at it like some forlorn house cat even though you know he could take it down if he so pleased. “Are you almost finished? I miss you,” his voice is a plead, as if his heart is shriveling up in his chest with every second he’s not pressed against you.

with a sigh, do you finally lift yourself from the corner of the bathroom floor, unfolding your limbs with a groan. you don’t dare look at yourself in the mirror, fearing the image of the hollowed person that is bound to stare back at you. with hesitation, do you finally unlock the door. you don’t even have to pull it open before Gojo is barging his way in, engulfing you in long arms that seem to wrap around you like some never ending boa constrictor.

“You’d never try to leave me, right? Because you love me so much.” Gojo says into your hair, his voice one that tries to convince you of its truth. and there is some there, along with the guilt of ruining him in this grotesque way that you have no other choice but to accept and live with until it suffocates you.

“Yeah.” your murmur, sinking into his body, let him hold you so close, you think you can feel his veins pulling at his skin to intertwine with your own. “Yeah, I love you, Satoru.”

(he doesn’t dare tell you that he knew all about that little potion you whipped up, how it never had any actual affect on him for more than just a couple hours. but this was what you wanted, right? for him to love you? so why not continue to just love you in his own way that’s somehow, convincingly, all your fault? why not let you take the blame for his greediness? you wanted this, right? right?)

#sorry if this feels repetitive #it’s my favorite kind of yandere to write 😔#something about lovesick Satoru that just does it for me #I’ll never get enough of it I fear #okay I’m done writing for the night #the other few ideas in my drafts I want to turn into fics maybe #wait I have another one that’s short I might write that really quick 🏃🏽‍♂️#—new treat in the streets! 🍫#gojo treats! 🍬

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meanbossart · 6 months

Note

do you have any thoughts on cazador as a character? personally i really loved the parallels between him and astarion & the way that the master/spawn relationship is used as an allegory for cyclical abuse. the scene with cazador’s master’s skull where you find out that he was once victimized in the exact same way that he later victimized astarion was really a lightbulb moment for me re: what vampirism represents in this game.

BOY DO I, i don't think much of it hasn't already been said, though. He's a tragic character in his own right of course, not that that takes away from the awful man he is.

Me and my boyfriend make fun of him a lot, we call him "the best BG3 character" as a little inside joke between us and come up with ridiculous scenarios of things that might have occurred throughout those 200 miserable years the spawn had under his command lol. Maybe he had a month where he was really specific about the shoes everyone wore, maybe once every other decade he had a weird week where he tried to be "nice" only to become frustrated when his efforts weren't immediately met in kind by the rightfully-terrified spawn, maybe between all the torture and horrific-ness he just did some plain weird shit like making someone crouch by in his fainting couch and wait by open-handed for grapes that he dramatically chewed on and then spat right out since he can't actually eat them lmao

And that's hysterical but I think we also started doing that because when you meet Cazador, when you first hear his voice and see his demeanor in person your immediate reaction is probably somewhere along the lines of "THIS is the clown you were so scared of, Astarion?"

And the answer is, of course, yes. This embarrassing little man stuck in a cage of his making instills fear beyond comprehension in Astarion and all his siblings. This man who undoubtedly showed all these spawn, inadvertently, the strangest, most arguably "human" aspects of himself at some point or another during these two centuries they had together is also an absolute monster. And i really like that! I think its far more effective and fitting for his story than if he was, lets say, a Ketheric type.

(this got very long so, more under the cut)

Look at Ascended Astarion in the epilogue now, for example. Everyone agrees that he's an absolute fucking dork - and I think we all also agree that he will go on to destroy the lives of many people beyond repair, especially his own, until the day he is killed.

In the topic of vampirism as an allegory for abuse, I both agree and also don't, at least not exactly - i just think it's deeper than that. I've spoken about this in another post but i find it incredibly refreshing how, to me, it seems like Baldur's Gate 3 has no interest in painting vampirism as sexy or fun past a surface level. It's a curse that nobody asks for unless put in a situation where they feel as if they have no other way out, and it shapes and haunts you for the rest of your undead existence.

Even if you enjoy its benefits at first, that has a time limit. You will see your family and loved ones die, you will see culture evolve while you stay perpetually the same. You will experience so much hurt and pain because the only thing that makes life truly sweet is knowing that it is finite, and eventually it will wear down all of your humanity. And since you can't die unless you are scorched by the sun, staked, or dismembered, you must live with the knowledge that you will never have a peaceful death - and since you won't have a peaceful death, you better not die - and if you don't want to die, you better not be weak - and if you don't want to be weak, you must seek out power at all cost and slash things like love and friendship out of your life.

And what is funny, is that in his attempt to be more like a mortal - to eat, drink, walk the sun, such incredibly simple desires - Cazador (and Astarion, if he ascends) is accidentally only drawing further away from the person he supposedly once was, because that fear of weakness has already utterly corrupted his soul.

That's quite a grim way to look at it, of course. But I genuinely think that it is the natural conclusion of something like immortality.

That's why I quite like that, even after Astarion has found happiness, even after he finds his peace, he still doesn't exactly embrace being a vampire - because It's not something he should be expected to embrace. I think it's a very unique take on the trope.

I also want to leave here this message written by his character writer, which really got me thinking about him on a deeper level since i saw it months ago. It is specifically about the sexual aspect, but I think it branches beyond it too, when you think about it.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion #text #ask #cazador szarr

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yaoyaobae · 1 year

Text

Hello everyone! Thank you so much for following me, its my first time sharing about my twst ocs so I’ll give it a shot ✊

Warning: Hallucinations 🙇‍♀️

Alison Wondre

School: Royal Sword Academy

Favourite food: Cookies

Pastime: Reading children’s books, Daydreaming

Family: Mother, Father, Older sister

Role: Head of Alice/Wonderland dorm

Alison is a second year student at RSA and dorm head. Unlike Riddle who upholds rules, Alison is the polar opposite of him in every way.

Alison adopts a carefree and playful attitude, he enjoys teasing uptight people until they blow (like Riddle).

He tends to mention strange things like how he saw some singing flowers the other day or his craving to take a bite out of a bread-and-butter-fly. From the way he dresses to his wild, childish imagination its no surprise that many students believe he’s gone mad. But it is agreeably fitting for someone who is head of the Alice/Wonderland dorm.

Backstory:

Alison has an older sister whom he adores greatly and spends most of his time with. When he was a young boy, he didn’t listen to his sister’s heeding to not stray off from the path and ended up falling into a deep hole in a forest. He slowly started hallucinating monsters and cried himself to sleep, wishing he had listened to his sister. Thankfully, the authorities found him a few days later and he was sent to a hospital.

However, it was clear that Alison became an entirely different person after the incident. He began telling his sister stories about funny creatures he had met during his “adventure” which was rather worrying to her. While Alison was in the hospital for a few months,he picked up several children’s picture books which he still brings around with him in school till this day. As he grew older his imagination became wilder as he forgets the fine line between reality and his “wonderland”. He takes afternoon naps to “meet his friends”. Its a given rule to never wake him up.

Of course despite his eccentric character, Alison is still a caring and reliable leader when he needs to be(just that he conveys it in his own ways). He will not hesitate to listen to a fellow dorm mate’s worries and give vague advice, hoping they can figure out the riddle. He encourages them to “stay curiouser and curiouser” as life becomes a little more colourful that way when you experience new things. When it comes to thinking out of the box, no one can beat Alison to it.

Relationships

Riddle

Alison finds joy in teasing serious individuals, namely Riddle, until they throw a tantrum. He doesn’t mind getting the magic collar so as long as he can poke fun at the red haired queen. In serious situation, Alison would cooperate with Riddle and provide creative solutions.

If both of them share a similarity, it would be the fear of being held back and stuck in a dark place alone. Like Riddle who grew up having to follow his mother’s rules and forbidden to see his friends, Alison can somewhat share the same pain as he is still afraid of not waking up and/or seeing his sister again because of his ignorance in the past.

Chenya

Alison is generally carefree around others, but when it comes to this cunning cheshire cat he will not waste a single second to curse him. Many students find it strange how two eccentrics from the same dorm can never get along. Alison finds Chenya a nuisance who disrupts his afternoon naps, often pestering him. In addition, Chenya always gives Alison close-to-useless advice even when the latter didn’t ask for any. Guess its like a taste of his own medicine 😂

While the two do not get along, they are always seen together in school bickering nonsense. Sometimes Chenya would purposely wake Alison up from his nap to share about the strawberry tart he stole from his two childhood friends, the sleepy blonde would just doze off back to dreamland while nodding his head.

End

Well, I think that is all I can share about Alison! I hope you will like him too, thank you to those who have loved him since the beginning!! Talking about my children is fun ☺️

Until next time!

#twisted wonderland #twisted oc #twst oc #Alison Wondre #yaoyao_twstoc

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zeldasnotes · 2 years

Text

ASTRO OBSERVATIONS 20

🪵Where you have Mars in your chart shows where you put on muscle easily,where you might be naturally muscular or a body part you enjoy working out. For example Mars in the 9th house might put on a lot of muscle on their thighs.

🪵Dr.Phil having his Midheaven ruler in the 12th house makes so much sense, also his Mars is in the 8th house. He is confronting (mars) the taboo(8th house) in peoples minds(12th house) and hes doing it in public(10th house)

🪵Lilith in the 2nd house have people accusing them of trying to be sexy. People might ask them why they ”talk like that” but thats usually their natural voice.

🪵People with Mars aspecting Jupiter makes everything they do look funny, you cant help but adore them

🪵Having an afflicted Venus is seriously the worst planet to have afflicted because it creates issues with both money, relationships and self esteem. Venus affects so many important parts of our life.

🪵Ive noticed that a lot of Capricorn Risings naturally walk like runway models

🪵People with Mars in the 12th house/Mars aspecting Neptune tend to be fooled by men a lot. Men attack their weaknesses. They also have a hard time seeing themselves clearly. These people just cant hide their insecurities which makes them very vulnerable.

🪵Virgo Risings looks like they shower 10 times a day. They are like that beautiful pastry that you almost dont want to eat because its so perfect you dont want to ruin it. You almost feel ashamed cursing infront of them because they look so pure.

🪵Men with a plutonian venus are most likely to be babytrapped. They also have a tendency to pit two women against eachother. Being in a relationship with a man with a plutonian venus can be hard in the beginning because there is always women/men eyeing them, exes who wont go away, female relatives who wants to protect him from you etc.

🪵Having Venus conjunct Ascendant or in the 1st house/Libra Ascendant doesnt mean the person will be beautiful or model material, the person have a look thats very simple with clear skin, symmetric face and fat is evenly distributed on their body which creates a look that everyone can find attractive. The person has a behaviour and body language that is not intimidating or crude and they are easy to approach which makes them popular and well liked.

🪵People with Moon conjunct Venus are so kind and angelic.

🪵Mercury conjunct Uranus can make you come up with brilliant ideas very quick but you have to write them down fast before your mind starts racing again.

🪵 There is one thing Ive noticed with Scorpio Moons/Moon aspecting Pluto and that is that they are obsessed with finding out peoples weak spots like they just have to know because they need something to use incase they get mad at you. They wont be satisied until they know what you hate about yourself. And their worst fear is someone finding out about theirs.

🪵Will Smith having Scorpio Moon conjunct Neptune really shows how he can be so easily manipulated and controlled by Jada. His moon is also opposite his Lilith.

🪵Philosophia (227) conjunct Mercury makes someone think in a very philosophic way.

🪵Ofc Andrew Tate have the famous ”men who hate women” aspect: Moon Square Mars. Ive seen that a lot of people who attack women in public or on the internet have this aspect. Intense rage against women.

🪵If you are into men and you have Mars conjunct Midheaven in your natal chart you run the risk of your affairs or relationships becoming very public. There is a risk here of being involved in sex scandals with men or your beefs becoming very public.

🪵People with Venus conjunct Mars can get away with murder because of their charm. They are that popular girl in school that everyone loves even tho shes a total b*tch. You cant stay mad at them because they have this childlike thing about them like they dont know what they are doing.

🍂

#astro notes #astrology #astro observations #astronotes #ascendant #lilith aspects #astrotidbits #birth chart readings

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markiv3 · 3 months

Text

stray kids as romantic tropes

with little to no context

ot8 not proofread guys my bad

bangchan - friends to lovers

like wbk... he's got that friendly aura and i think he'd just befriend you thinking that you were just a pretty person but it turns into something more. he'd be very open about his feelings when he realizes how he feels i think.. and he'd confess with flowers and a nice dinner hoping to charm you but there's no charming needed cause he's just the best guy ever.

minho - college sweethearts

OKAY SO what i think is that it would be a love at first sight oh trust he fell first and harder and like campus would be so fun starting from the day you first saw him until you finally got together like.. he'd be flirty all the time omf like he'd mess with you playfully and hope you would catch the hints. he'd catch himself grinning and smiling after talking to you and all his friends would tease him about you but he wouldn't care cause he is head over heels TRUST!!!

changbin - newly married couple

oomfs i think he'd be the perfect husband i'm not even playing like walk with me... he goes to the gym, he can cook, he would be down extremely bad for his partner LIKE TRUST. his love language doesn't exist cause he uses them all like his rich ass would buy anything you asked for. when people ask him if he's bored of you now that you're married he's just shocked because how could someone be bored.

hyunjin - strangers to lovers

as i have said before he just looks like a stranger you'd meet on a trip and he's just the best person you've ever met like.. you'd stay with him for a while maybe and it would be the best ever: treats for you every morning, flowers, presents, kisses, portraits, paintings, hugs and lots of hopeless romantic stuff. he just has that mysterious aura that makes him the perfect stranger that turns into something more.

han - brothers best friend

he'd be your brothers awkward friend that comes over once in a while and talks to you looking at the floor cause he got no game and he's loser number one but once you get more comfortable he's just so funny like you find yourself laughing at his stupid jokes all the time. i think he would always have a crush on you since the day you met but won't say it cause you're his friends sister.

felix - childhood friends to lovers

liiikeeee doesn't he just feel like it or am i crazy... he's so warm and cute and fuzzy.. you two have been friends forever (there would probably be a lot of like right people wrong time) and you both realize you like each other but are too scared to confess in fear of ruining your friendship so it all remains a secret till it probably slips out from one of his friends and well you know the rest.

seungmin - enemies to lovers

like everyone says this but i think its so so accurate like he'd be perfect in an academic rivals or office enemies; he would tease and annoy you at any occasion and then realize he's fallen for you but won't admit it ever, and i think he'd become even more annoying when he realizes that he likes you just to suppress those feelings.

jeongin - secret relationship

so errrm hear me out okay, it's the way he's so careful with stuff but he's also so secretive about his feelings i feel like when he finally gets himself to confess and you agree he just needs time. that time would be spent hiding every kiss and holding hands under the table and then walking back to wherever you need to go pretending you're still just friends when you're much more, but only you two need to know that.

i might write these extensively and seriously but i just wanted to put this out there cause ive been thinking about it for so long

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teecupangel · 3 months

Note

Hi Teacup! Sorry for the long post in advance. This idea has been plaguing me for ages, so now everyone else gets to suffer too.

I would like to add to the Desmond menagerie with the biggest badass of the avails to ever live: The Hasst Eagle. The Hasst Eagle was around 15kgs with a 3m wingspan and hunted prey 13 times its own size. No one in any time period could think Desmond is an ordinary eagle.

Ratonhnhaké:ton's village would take one look at Desmond the toddler sized bird and go definitely a spirit.

I also have the wonderful image of Desmond saving Petruccio by just picking him up and flying off in my head (I might be overestimating Desmonds strength and underestimating Petruccio's size, but I found funny imagining the guards faces). And then I remembered the story of Zeus and Ganymede; which made me imagine Ezio chasing down Desmond and threatening to pluck him if he even thinks about taking Petruccio's purity.

It’s really huge, that’s for sure.

Giovanni knew of the Desmond.

The large eagle of legends, the guardian of the Brotherhood.

He had grown up listening to his father tell stories of Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad and his great eagle. How the large bird’s shadow brought fear to the Templars who see it. How fast it was even when it was bigger than any other birds.

How intelligent it was, using gestures to communicate with his chosen one.

How it had served as the guardian and godfather of Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad’s children.

It had seemed like a tall tale but Giovanni never doubted it.

How could he?

When the great eagle was painted over the ceiling of the Sanctuary below Monteriggioni.

He had no reasons to doubt its existence.

But he never talked about the eagle of legends to his children. The Templars would know about the Desmond.

It was too much of a risk, telling the stories to children who could just as easily talk about it to others.

Unintentionally catch the ears of the wrong people.

But now he deeply regretted it.

“Ezio, stop!” Giovanni shouted, unable to keep the panic out of his voice.

How could he?

His second son, a cheerful boy of the age of six, was trying to beat the eagle of legend with a stick, shouting at the eagle loudly, “Go away! Shoo! Shoo!”

“Ezio!” Giovanni shouted, grabbing Ezio’s wrist before he could smack the eagle once more.

Not that he was able to.

Any time the stick was even close to hitting the bird, the Desmond simply flicked one of its wing, parrying the strike and causing Ezio to stagger backwards.

Ezio was a stubborn child though and he would continue to try and hit the bird even as it simply parried all his strikes.

Once it was clear that Ezio couldn’t whack the bird, he turned to his father as he shouted, “Petruccio!”

Giovanni was about to ask what he meant by that but the Desmond lifted its wings, showing his youngest son softly giggling as he tried to crawl away from the bird. One of the bird’s talons was gripping Petruccio’s clothes, keeping the boy still.

Giovanni’s eyes widened as he realized that they were in the second floor balcony that Petruccio’s room had. It was always meant to be locked considering Petruccio was a curious child.

And the railings had enough distance between each pillar that Petruccio could slip through.

The Desmond stared at Giovanni expectantly as it slowly lifted its talon and Giovanni used his other hand to scoop his youngest son into his arms while the baby tried to crawl to the railings.

“Thank you.” Giovanni said as he bowed deeply at the bird, earning a confused frown from Ezio.

The bird simply shook its body, reminding Giovanni of a man stretchering before the bird turned to stare at Ezio. It lifted one of its wings and Giovanni’s blood ran cold, worried about how much Ezio had offended the bird.

The bird did not try to hurt Ezio though. Instead, it used its wing to pat Ezio’s head three times before hopping away. It flapped its wings and flew out of the balcony.

And Giovanni finally let out a relieved sigh.

#i was thinking of which ancestor to use for this #but desmond being mistaken for attacking baby petruccio #by protective big brother ezio #was too much of a fun idea to pass #desmond is turned into an animal subgenre #desmond is turned into a creature subgenre #assassin's creed #ask and answer #teecup writes/has a plot #fic idea: assassin's creed #desmond miles #ezio auditore #giovanni auditore #petruccio auditore

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alonetimelover · 11 months

Text

pairing: Harry Styles x tennis player!reader

summary: sometimes it is not meant to work out, no matter how much you and everyone else want it to. or is it?

a/n: so before wimbledon ended (before Iga lost her quarterfinal), I made this. its like fiction within fiction, ya know?

masterlist (with more tennis player!reader)

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twitter

i love harry and yn | babiesharry

guys... just a quick thought. we haven't seen any pics of yn and harry together for a whole month. there are no interactions online, and there are no acknowledgements during concerts or after matches.

do we think its the, you know, end?

3k likes 1,04k comments 3,4k replies

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lot tour 23 | aliceeeee

it is a little bit confusing. in the latest interview yn, when asked about listening to music before a match, she answered only with Taylor (before she also was saying Harry)

so that's it...

2k likes 1,44k comments 2,4k replies

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saw harry in vienna | lovingharry

harry is also not as bubbly as he made us used to see him, last night he wasn't even doing all the stomps during satellite, no funny dances or backbends...

1k likes 1k comments 3k replies

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yn is the best | lovingtennisyn

let's not speculate about them and just support our idols. yn has a very difficult tournament before herself and harry is almost done with touring. best we can do is applaud them for their work, their private lives shouldn't be our concern

4k likes 1,5k comments 5k replies

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harry my love | byebyenyc

i fear the worst... yn is in london and none interaction with Harry, his family, or friends? it is not an accident

2k likes 1,7k comments 0,9k replies

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Instagram

harryupdates

liked by ynupdates, hArrysbtch and 15 302 others

harryupdates HARRY AFTER CATCHNING A FANMADE BRACELET ON STAGE TONIGHT!

view all 2 402 comments

lanastyles IT WAS MINE!!!!!

⤷ hArrysbtch omg! what were the charms??

⤷ lanastyles i did harrys and yn's names with flowers and hearts! but i don't think he really liked it

⤷ harrysmoustache oh no, why do you think so?

⤷ lanastyles after he read what was on them, he showed it into his trousers' pocket

⤷ ynsmybestie no no no no no, the rumours are getting more true with each day

harrysfan84 i love him, man

harryswift he knows that speak now tv is coming, he dressed for the occasion!

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harrylot

liked by harryupdates, ynsmybestie and 18 301 others

harrylot "I don't think that anyone is perfect. you meet a lot of people during your lifetime, never knowing which one is gonna turn up being your person. huh? im sorry I cannot hear you. give it up for Lorine!" HARRY INTERACTING WITH A FAN TONIGHT

view all 6 301 comments

harryshoee i saw multiple videos from this interaction and the fan was soooo loud. he just didn't want to answer the question

⤷ ynshands what did they ask him?

⤷ harryshoee i believe it was "have you met your person?" and people around the fan screaming yn's name

harryupdates guys, don't assume anything based on one interaction

ynsmybestie that is concerning, but maybe he just doesn't want to be so public about it?

⤷ ynandhmyparents they were literally making out in the park in London and kissing on TV after yn won French Open. they didn't care, why would they now?

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yntennisfan

liked by ynupdates, harryshoee and 23 301 others

yntennisfan GUYS, I AM STRESSED OUT

view all 5 301 comments

yntennisfan UPDATE: SHE DEFENDED THOSE MATCH POINTS!!! WE HAVE TIE-BREAK!!!

yntennisfan UPDATE: GUYS, SHES SERVING FOR A MATCH

yntennisfan SHE FUCKING WON THIS MATCH !!!!!

ynupdates i had five heart attacks during this match

harryupdates she's so good at coming back to her good game!

ynshands AMAZING! I couldn't watch and just listened to the commentary on the radio. they were going crazy!

ynsmybestie she's unbelievable! sooo good

hArrysbtch i love tennis

harrysmoustache she's playing so differently to what she made us used to see

⤷ ynsmybestie i fear its because of that possible breakup

⤷ harrysfan83 harry didn't upload anything about the match like he used to, and he knows how grass is yn's the least favourite surface to play on

⤷ ynupdates can you guys just be happy about her win and stop bringing her relationship back up? thank you.

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enews

liked by tennisfan82 and 2 301 492 others

enews No. 1s in the tennis World - YN YSN and Carlos Alcaraz were spotted enjoying each other companies after YN's winning match in Wimbledon. YN has dated Harry Styles for almost three years before they broke up just a month ago. Moving on so quickly? More pictures in our link in bio.

view all 24 201 comments

ynupdates they are friends! can't they have a meal together?

ynsmybestie how i love you people ruining friendships... pathetic

ynshands celebrating her win can't only mean dating, you know?

harrysmoustache sooo, they really broke up? 💔

⤷ hArrysbtch nothing is confirmed, let's just wait

⤷ hArrysbtch yes, I am delusional

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ynupdates

liked by ynsmybestie, harrysmoustache and 34 402 others

ynupdates YN VIA HER IG STORY...

view all 7 402 comments

ynsmybestie nonononononono not them, please god no

ynshands jesus, even my breakup didn't hurt me as much as this one

hArrysbtch im a child of this divorce

harryupdates let's give them space to be

harryshoee no, my parents. please let it not be true. please.

ynswiftie guys, maybe she's just celebrating a Spek Now TV release?

⤷ ynsmybestie couldn't she do it with enchanted???

ynandcarlos well, Carlos has a tan skin too

⤷ ynshands oh shut up, respectfully

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harryupdates

liked by hArrysbtch, ynupdates and 65 407 others

harryupdates I MET HARRY IN LONDON JUST NOW. do you think he's attending wembley final today?

view all 8 402 comments

ynupdates you finally met him? congratulations darling!

ynupdates and I think he's attending. why would he come back from spain to london?

hArrysbtch he better attends and stop all those ridiculous rumours (yes, i am delusional)

harrysmoustache he looks so good, he can't be single (yes, i am delusional)

harryshoee yn crocheted that hat, i know it (yes, iam delusional)

⤷ ynupdates well, yn does know how to crochet so it is possible

harrysfan63 i also met him today!!!

⤷ harryupdates did you ask him about Wimbledon?

⤷ harrysfan63 yes! he just said "what's that?" with a smirk

⤷ harrysbtch this fucker, he's playing us

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harryupdates

liked by ynupdates, ynsmybestie and 82 230 others

harryupdates HARRY VIA HIS IG STORY. HE DIDN'T DELETE IT AFTER FIVE MINUTES. EVEN AFTER THIRTY.

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ynupdates the world is healing

hArrysbtch thank you, harry. thank you, my man. I can still sing to london boy and think about you both

harrysmoustache so, they still together?

ynsmybestie thank fucking God!!!!!!! my parents are still together!

harryshoee my bitches are back!!!

ynandhmyparents i can still shamelessly use my username hehheh

user492 it would be hilarious later getting to know that they are, in fact, not back together

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yntennisfan

liked by ynupdates, harrysmoustache and 90 201 others

yntennisfan GUYSSSSSSS WTF WTF WTF. THIS IS YN'S REACTION TO PEOPLE CHEERING AFTER SHE ADMITTED SHE IS ENGAGED!!!!

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yntennisfan it basically went like this: after winning the Wimbledon final yn was giving an interview. during it one of the fans screamed "MARRY ME, YN" and after a little laugh that the audience had yn responded with "I'M ALREADY ENGAGED, ACTUALLY"

yntennisfan the way people screamed!!!!! and then they showed smirking harry!!! does anyone have a picture??

ynupdates she is engaged... she won Wimbledon... oh god

harryupdates engaged... woah

hArrysbtch THE WORLD HEALED

harrysmoustache harry is engaged, do you hear it people?

ynsmybestie love is real, yn won her least comfortable tournament, god is a woman. yes.

harryshoee couldn't imagine a better partner for harry. she is so sweet and cute. they're perfect.

ynshands eat shit you haters that believed in every little rumour

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harrystyles

liked by yourinstagram, harryupdates and 17 402 939 others

harrystyles good morning, wimbledon champion fiancée

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yourinstagram hiiii, fiancé

harryupdates how do I react when Harry is posting his partner on main????

ynupdates THEE CHAMPION

hArrysbtch PARENTS

⤷ yourinstagram harrystyles first child is here

⤷ harrystyles that's... fast

⤷ hArrysbtch guys, WTHFKSJEBJDE

annetwist beautiful, beautiful girl ❤️

ynsmybestie still processing the win and engagement and you're killing me with this post, harry. thank you.

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yourinstagram

liked by harrystyles, ynupdates, taylorswift, hArrysbtch and 16 930 493 others

yourinstagram my waves meet your shore, ever and evermore

view all 492 201 comments

harrystyles well, it was enchanting to meet you

ynupdates i can't get used to them using taylor's lyrics to express their love for each other

taylorswift Congratulations on the Wimbledon win and your engagement! You are welcome at any of the concerts. Just text me the date you're available!

comment liked by yourinstagram, harrystyles and 132 302 others

harryupdates congratulations!!!!

hArrysbtch mum, dad

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles instagram #harry styles fake ig #harry styles #tennis player!reader

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