#its not quite face reveal but close enough

[hantenguclonesimp-minuszoha]

wait how would wife reader react to seeing Zohakuten get formed? Does she already know or is it kept a secret?

Imagine: wife reader on a date with Hantengu and they get attacked so the clones come out. They can’t fully fight off whoever is attacking them so they know what they gotta do. I imagine wife reader would be so shocked and traumatized at seeing her angry husband shoving his hands into the other clones faces just to absorb them AND also shedding out his skin to reveal none other than the little guy himself!

𝐒𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐙𝐨𝐡𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞.

Hantengu (clones?)/Zohakuten x Fem!Reader [Drabble]

Synopsis: basically the request.

Warnings: Gore, Cannibalism, Blood.

Note: That's quite an interesting ask, Lumi. I like the idea of reader just being there, TERRIFIED as she holds the tiny Hantengu in her palm, staring at Zohakuten with wide eyes, face pale as if she's seen a ghost and waiting for him to explain. I imagine that this is her first time seeing him and is absolutely traumatised. (Ignore the other few hcs, this an au)

Note 2: This feels like a drabble but idk, I don't do drabble's since they're apparently supposed to be a 100 words exact. Other people say otherwise but hey, idk. Anyways, happy reading! (⁠人⁠*⁠´⁠∀⁠｀⁠*)⁠｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+

She was told to hide in one spot near the clones by not only the clones themselves but also Hantengu. "It's safe here. Do not move from this spot." She recalled Karaku saying and despite having said that with his usual relaxed tone, there was a hint of firmness beneath his laid-back façade. One second, she was laughing and giggling, chatting with her husband about how her day went when she arrived home near sunset, the next, she's hiding for her and his life because of a sudden a sudden ambush. The only time she and Hantengu would be moved to another hiding spot is when one of the clones themselves would approach them and this time it was Urogi, who was currently flying them elsewhere. "Urogi!" "Don't you worry your pretty little head, songbird. We'll take care of it." Urogi giggled as he landed and placed her in a tree where she and him would be safe. He gave her a kiss on her lips before quickly flying off into battle once more while the wife watched with fearful eyes. She nervously watched them fight the exceptionally strong slayers as she hid and would close her eyes everytime their limbs got cut before she eventually stopped watching the fight altogether due to her weak stomach.

Suddenly, however, they were approached by a demon, clearly hungry and out of control. It must've been a newborn. It immediately sniffed the air and looked up at the nearest prey, that being Hantengu and his wife before jumping up and tackling her to the ground hard enough to leave her senses rattle. Hantengu had fallen out of her delicate grip and landed into a nearby bush but was quickly on his feet again. His first instinct was to run but the shrill pained shriek of his beloved wife stopped him right in his tracks. "AHH-HHH!!!" What was the matter with her? He peeked out of the bush to see what was happening when he was met with the sight of a rabid newborn demon digging his claws into his dear's thigh, hurting her as he tried to bite her face. He was terrified! His poor wife is getting attacked and he couldn't do a thing. As she struggled to keep the demon away, she caught sight of her small husband and yelled at him to run before letting out another shriek of pain when the demon dug its claws into her stomach from the side, dangerously close to anything vital. She was scared and rightfully so because she thought she was going to die. Having and seeing no way out, "SEKIDO!!!" she cried out loudly for her other husband to come and safe her, pushing the demon away and looking towards the four who were in battle.

She expected them to immediately turn around to the sounds of her screams of pain and terror but... she saw Sekido, arms raised – the slayers were quickly recovering as this happened – and in the blink of am eye, had drawn in both Karaku and Urogi, almost as if they had teleported! "H-Hey!" Her eyes widened in pure horror when she saw both of them get absorbed by Sekido through his palms, leaving no trace of their existence behind. Then came Aizetsu, who surprisingly, willingly approached Sekido albeit quickly before he met the same face. Her eyes then quickly darted to the demon above her that was still trying to rip her to shreds and eat her, wrestling with it and try to survive for as long as possible. She kicked it off of her body for a brief moment before she was tackled down into the same position. Again, her eyes went to the spot her husbands were, desperate for them to save her when she noticed that only Sekido remained though at a bigger distance. He had fallen to his knees and appeared to be almost struggling? Shaking? Whatever the case may be, she noticed his struggle until... his hair began to grow... shorter? The kimono he is known for slowly shed and disappeared to ash, his entire body began to shrink – though his muscular form remained – and his arms were now covered by long sleeves similar to Aizetsu's but tighter. If her eyes could go any wider they would when she noticed that what was once her tall husband, was now a young boy too muscular for his age with floating drums behind his back.

She would have taken a closer look at him but before she could, he was gone faster than she could blink. Then, suddenly, the demon she was struggling against was gone as well, almost as he had been kicked towards a tree as it laid here, trying to catch its breath and regenerate. She saw as the slayers looked around aimlessly while she immediately got up and limped towards her small husband, taking him into her hands and looking around the same way the slayers were before being startled by the loud thump of a drum. Nothing happened... for a few short moments. In those few short moments, she turned and jumped nearly everything the same way Hantengu would before letting out a scream of surprise and fear when she felt the ground shake and saw multiple tree trunks grow from the ground which almost appeared like dragons. The quaking of the ground had caused her to fall on her rear but that was the least of her worries. She as fast and best as she could despite the dust that had been released from those dragons blinding her, desperate to get to safety as she held Hantengu. "W-What was that?!" Hantengu felt sorry for her about the fact that she didn't know about his existence as well but was too scared to even utter a word, only hiding deeper into her palm. They both heard the distant screams of agony from the slayers that had ambushed them before their sudden silence and seeing the same demon that had attacked her crash into a nearby tree. She instantly flinched back and slowly backed away at the demon, who was slowly regaining his senses—

"How dare you!!" A new voice growled causing her to flinch for the umpteenth time. It was deep, possibly deeper than Sekido's though lacking the same amount of gruffness yet holding far more command and pressure. The wife looked towards the direction where the voice came from, holding Hantengu with shaking arms and preparing to run when she is stopped by an orange shine in the dark which were clearly eyes. Though they were not directly staring at her, the woman could not move a single millimeter and suddenly, it was hard to breathe. Then, the person who stood in the shadows revealed themselves. A boy no older than seventeen or even sixteen covered in blood. She took in every single feature of his, from his beautiful lashes to the same similar long nails on his hands and feet. Her fearfully curious eyes then landed on the kanji etched onto the floating drums.

"Hate"

She's never seen that one until now and wondered if he was a clone as well. "You dare touch what is mine?!" The only clones she knew of were the main four and Urami! She didn't know there was one more! And so young too! The youngest She's seen! The boy's eyes are trained on the rabid demon which was frozen in the same spot as the much younger demon in appearance gets closer. "An unforgivable sin that you will atone for with your life!!" As he spoke, the words he said before processed in her mind. What did this boy mean 'touch what was his'? She is not married to him! Only to Hantengu, Urami and the main four, not this child. She was too scared to even think properly as she watched the rabid demon get ripped limb from limb while the boy yelled. "You will suffer whilst you die!!" He used his hands and dug his long nails into the demon's flesh, dragging it up to his ribs before pushing his hand in deeper and pulling out a rib. All the terrible noises and howls of agony could be heard as he continued on with the demon's arm, breaking it like a twig as the first arms had gone to its leg and tore it from the hip. He repeated the process with the other arm and leg until the demon was simply a limbless mess squirming like a worm. The boy then crouched and aimed his hand directly for the neck, digging his nails in before swipping his head clean off. "Such scum who bring harm to my benignant bride will not live to see the next sunset." He growled before quickly turning around at the strong smell of his main body, Y/N and her blood.

Once she made eye contact with her, even her breathing ceased. It felt like she was going to die! That looks can kill should only be a saying, not a statement! As he began to approach her, glare never changing, her breathing only hitched as she instinctively hid Hantengu behind her back. Her heart was practically in her throat and she swears she could cry on the spot but she was just frozen. Just as he was in within arm's reach, he froze, eyes darting up to hers and staring intensely. It was silent for a few moments before be spoke. "Why do you fear me, my wife?" The only response he got was her staring at him as if he were crazy, like he had grown another head or something. "I am Zohakuten. Hatred. The main body's youngest self, your husband also." The boy introduced himself, gently grabbing her hand and kissing the back of her palm. So that was his name. Her only response was to stare at him wide-eyed for a good while until she let out a breath that she had held due to his intense gaze. "I—ughnnn..." The pain of her injuries caught up to her, the adrenaline having run out as she collapsed, however, with his lightning fast reflexes, Zohakuten caught her into his arms and took her into the bridal carry, as he then examined the extent of her injuries.

"I'm sorry I didn't arrive earlier, my wife. I would never let such evil savage touch a hair on your beautiful head." The way he spoke certainly caused to feel a certain way. That certain way being flustered and embarrassed. "I-I... Thank you." The woman said softly and let herself be carried by the demon boy. As he walked with her through the forest, eventually beginning to sprint, she could feel herself lose consciousness, the exhaustion having caught up to her. Zohakuten noticed and only went faster but remained as calm as he could, he knew she would survive with him around. "Sleep, my darling wife. I'll take care of you."

Note: So that's how. I mean I can't blame her 'cause bitch, I'd be terrified too. Hope you liked that one.

[gamermattsgf]

“Cool spider…” // Tattoo artist Chris

Warnings: sextape / colleague relationship / favour for a favour trope / riding / petty Chris x reader / nose piercing!Chris / spanking kink / mommy kink / slight breeding kink / tattoo!Chris / praise kink / ownership kink / degradation kink / ‘good girl’ / creampie / unprotected sex / hair pulling / exhibitionist kink / scratch kink / tit play / overstimulation

Summary: you and Chris both work in a tattoo & piercing gallery, and your toxic ex just won’t leave you alone… so Chris decides to shut him up and put him in his place.

Author’s notes: I’m baaack. someone’s seriously got to stop me from making up fics on stuff that I’ve just randomly yapped about and blogged for fun. Me: posting about tattoos I’d think Chris would look good with. Also me: ‘-now hang on a sec that’s actually given me a great idea…’ *pulls out a notebook and starts vigorously writing shit down*.

“Gotta know, I ate her, she's so sweet, now or later. I want that all the time, all the time I'll make you all mine” - Toes Down, Loukeman

. ♱ .

You sigh, checking your phone once again before flipping it back around to face the desk. You shake your head and put it into your hands to rub it slowly in exhaustion. This is the fifth time he’s texted you today and your patience with him was slowly thinning.

‘You good?’

Chris mumbles absentmindedly from his hunched over position at the counter. He has his shirt off - as he usually does - to keep himself cool as the ceiling fan whirls above your heads. You look at his back, and the way his light wash blue jeans wrap around his lean waist lowly.

His right arm moves languidly as he sketches out a stencil for one of his clients, the graphite of his lead pencil scratching against his favourite sketchbook soothingly in the otherwise quiet atmosphere of the tattoo parlour.

You admire the jet black ink adorning his torso, that stretches from the bottom of his spine to cover the expanse of his shoulder blades in jaggedly aggressive patterns, the back tattoo attractively sat over his otherwise soft skin.

The muscles wrapped around his shoulders move as he draws, and you can’t help but swallow thickly at the sight of them.

‘Yeah… I’m fine’

You reply, not at all convinced by your own weak attempt of trying to mask your obvious distaste for the sight of the messages on your Lock Screen whilst you shuffle about trying to clean a needle gun.

‘Oh really? Cos’ I’m hearin’ a great deal of sighing for your corner of the room and not alotta action…’

Chris sarcastically snorts back, his voice containing buckets of care masked within the joking manner. He doesn’t even bother turning his face, far too absorbed by the current drawing of a tiger he was doing on someone’s chest in a couple of weeks time whilst he expertly shaded in the small black stripes of its rippling body.

You pause for a minute, debating on whether or not you should actually tell Chris about what’s been going on. It’s your ex. And Chris doesn’t like him at all. So how is he going to react when you tell him he’s been quite literally harassing you for the past couple of weeks?

Not well is your guess…

Even though you two are co-workers, you share an extremely close relationship and tell each other practically everything, which sometimes readily blurs the lines between your strictly professional work ethics.

‘Ugh fine, it’s Max, he’s just sort of been bothering me lately…’

This catches Chris’ attention, and his head perks up. Craning his neck he looks back at you with narrowing eyes of suspicious icy blue.

From this angle over his shoulder you can see the gleam of his silver nose ring, and his torso twists just enough to reveal a new tattoo. One that you actually did on him yourself.

It was a delicate but bold patchwork tattoo of a large black widow spider, its long spindly legs stretching across the expanse of his ribs and looking like it was using them to scale up his chest. You struggle to hide a smile at being able to remember doing it on him so well.

You can easily recall the faint buzz of the needle gun and Chris’ soft occasional groans as you punched in the bulbous back of the widow’s body onto his skin that rose and fell to the rhythm of his exhales.

It must have been a sensitive part of Chris’ body because his breathing had been raggedy and his eyes had been squeezed shut for a majority of the tattoo. You had faintly mumbled ‘cool spider… you draw it yourself?’ To which he had responded with a grunt and an affectionate ‘duh’.

Whenever his eyes had opened to look at you they had been dilated heavily, with either pain or pleasure, you’re not quite sure.

He glares over at you and shakes his head. ‘Not this fucking idiot again… what’s he done this time?’.

Chris’ patience for Max has never been there, and he’s often one to be petty about every single move your ex boyfriend makes.

Chris has never liked him and so rejoiced when he heard from you that the break up had been messy on his side of the bargain.

Max was trouble, and so you had done the right thing when breaking things off with him. However, Max wasn’t one to easily let go, and he had been pestering you to take him back ever since.

‘Just being his normal asshole self I suppose’.

You’re deliberately vague with Chris, because you don’t want him to get all riled up like he usually does. He had given up his sketch now and had fully turned to lean his back and elbows onto the counter, knowing that you telling him this information was far more important than the task at hand.

His eyes then flick to the door of the studio, where the welcome sign hangs in the centre of the glass window pane. All around the door are frames of hundreds of different tattoos, all in the different styles of each of the employees that work here. No one else is working today though, it’s just Chris and yourself maning the store.

Chris is a primarily black work realist, and so his designs take up quite a lot of time, their lifelike splendour forking cash loads of money into his bank account whenever a piece is completed.

Multiple clients of his have been here for months as Chris prefers to take his artwork in sessions so the healing isn’t as tenuous.

Quite a few of his previous works have been photographed and framed about the waiting area, just to showcase his impressive ability.

Your area of speciality is more in line with fine line tattoos, you prefer delicacy over all else and likewise, some of your bigger works have been photographed and framed about the shop.

‘You got any more scheduled clients with appointments today?’ Chris spontaneously enquires, and you can tell simply by his face that he is pondering some form of idea within his head that makes you nervous. You hesitate with your response.

‘…Emm- no, I don’t think so?’.

Chris nods mischievously and smirks with his mouth open and his tongue pushing against the side of his teeth playfully.

‘I’m gonna need a little bit more of an explanation than just ‘he’s being an asshole’ then, cherry…’ Chris sing-songs as he pushes himself from off of his slouched position and starts to exit from behind the counter.

The nickname ‘Cherry’ had caught on fairly quickly between the two of you, because Chris had thought that you honestly looked way too sweet to be working in a downtown, grungy tattoo shop. After his first usage of the fond name it had just kind of stuck and now always sounded like molten amber honey dripping from his mouth.

He puts ‘he’s being an asshole’ in knowing quotation marks because he already knows how much of an asshole Max is. He’s experienced it before whenever your ex has decided to show up to your place of work and be a nuisance.

You’re pretty sure you almost had to hold Chris back from planting a right hook into his jaw one time because he had knocked over a bunch of new inks the store had just purchased for everyone’s clients.

Chris’ jaw had clenched immeasurably and you had quickly veered in front of him to plant your palms onto his collarbones after he had taken a large stride towards Max.

You had held him back gently, telling him to take several deep breaths and keep cool whilst you dealt with it.

Well… your version of dealing with it was calmly escorting him out of the shop and reassuring him that you’d see each other later before meekly returning back into the reception area to face a fuming Chris who immediately rolled his eyes and spat a quick ‘I’m gonna ban that bitch from coming in here next time he shows his ratty lookin’ face…’

You had simply sighed, shook your head, and tenderly patted him on the shoulder.

At the present, you squirm nervously when you see the way Chris walks right up to the door, before twisting the heavy duty lock on it and flipping the welcome sign to the side that displayed a big ‘closed’ on the front that was visible to passing strangers.

‘Chris it’s not that big of a deal honestly!’ You try and laugh it off as Chris spins back around. He then walks right up to you.

Grabbing one of the other chairs at the desk you were sitting at, he turns it around so that he can comfortably straddle it.

‘Uhh, well that’s where you’re wrong because it just so happens that my favourite girl’s ex is bothering her, and if she’s gotta problem with it… then so do I’ he sassily bites back, referring to you in the third person as he rests his taut forearms onto the spine of the chair, which gives himself something to lean on.

You have to ignore the way your stomach flips when he calls you his favourite girl, and you shyly flit your eyes to the floor whilst still fumbling around with the tattoo gun.

‘Well um… he just- he just keeps uhh’ you start, stuttering and having to sigh in utter frustration at not even being able to articulate your words properly.

Suddenly your eyes feel hot, and they sting a little. You are not going to cry in front of him. You panic when your voice wobbles and try to regain your composure as Chris looks at you with a worried expression.

‘Hey- hey… s’okay cherry, s’alright. Take your time, I’m here’.

Chris notices your flustered state and coos gentle reassurance at you whilst stretching one of his hands out to softly stroke the ball of your shoulder, right on the section of naked skin where the fabric of your top straps don’t quite reach.

You want to say that Chris is just being friendly, but somehow, the way he touches you tells a different story. It could have just been a harmless pat, but instead he had curled the knuckles of his hand and used them to soothingly skim up and down your skin, slowly, repetitively… almost sensually.

Chris liked any excuse to touch you. You were so soft and supple, a major contrast to his own skin. And he hated seeing a man like that crumple you up like a simple ball of paper and toss you into the trash.

You take one last stuttering breath before continuing.

Gazing at Chris’ soft smile and focusing on the calming gleam of his nose piercing, you find yourself relaxing once again as you take your time to look at each of his individual statement pieces whilst relaying your story.

His silver nose ring, his two lobe piercings that were decorated with spiked metal hoops, and his helix piercing, that came in the form of a small snake charm. It shone in the natural light of the room as it slithered up the expanse of his cartilage and provided a nice distraction for you.

‘I don’t know… h-he’s just saying these disgusting things about my body, and- and how I’m never going to find someone that will treat me better than him in bed. Just general filthy shit like that…’ you mumble, feeling absolutely humiliated and degraded at having to tell Chris about what Max has been saying to you as you sniffle and rub your nose.

As you explain yourself, the motion of Chris stroking your arm slows up significantly, and his little smile fades with every word you speak to him. His eyes narrow, something you noticed he does whenever he’s seething with rage.

‘Gimme your phone, I wanna see these texts’ Chris quips demandingly, using the hand that was once rubbing your skin to unfold itself and silently ask for your phone.

You sigh and hand it to him without much of a fight. You know that there’s no use in trying to argue with Chris when he gets like this. He’s driven, and once he has an idea there’s rarely anything you can do to deter him from it.

He unlocks your phone, already knowing your password, and starts to scroll through the endless shower of sexually abusive messages. You bite your lip as you look at him reading them over.

He sits on the backwards chair with his jean-clad thighs casually spread out, still one arm resting on top of the spine whilst the other one holds the phone and vigorously scrolls downwards.

You then flick your eyes to his face, and the way his rosy lips wet themselves as they quietly announce some of the words that he reads back to himself. The further down he goes the more furrowed his brows get.

Suddenly he shakes his head with an angry tick and slams your phone face down onto the table. You jump slightly at this, and blink at a Chris that had immediately shot to a stand.

‘That’s it, m’not dealing with this shit anymore. If he can’t leave you the fuck alone then I’ll make him.’

You look at him in confusion.

‘What’s that supposed to mean…?’ you shyly trail off but your question is shortly answered as soon as Chris bends down to level with you and seamlessly digs his palms into your thighs so that he can pluck you up from off of your chair.

You yelp a little in shock, your heartbeat thrumming against your ribcage before you quietly recover as Chris curls your legs around his hips. Upon touch, your hands instinctively fly to grip onto the back of his neck, his skin being warm and tepid.

The scruff of his long hair feels like satin tickling over your fingers and Chris groans in achievement as soon as he feels your thighs tense against his waist.

He’s been waiting for an excuse to do this.

‘Max is tellin’ you that you’re never gonna get a better fuck than him? Well I’m about to prove him wrong, s’that okay with you, cherry?’ Chris asks, not really expecting no for an answer as he starts to walk over the squeaking floorboards to the backrooms of the shop.

He knows exactly where he’s going and something deep within your core flutters at this assertive kind of attitude.

Chris has always been the extremely blunt and forward type of guy- if you looked pretty that day, he’d tell you, and make it obvious that he was attracted to you.

Today was no different, you could tell he had every intention of fucking you and making it extremely clear to Max just how good he was going to do it.

‘Y-yeah’ is just about all you can muster in your shaky state.

As you look down at Chris’ face, his chocolatey waves tussle in a rather wild-looking way whilst nestled about his pierced ears. Your fingers timidly skim about his neck, and one of them draws nervous patterns over the black bat tattoo situated behind his right ear that he had gotten for his brother a year ago.

‘That’s my girl’ he praises cockily as he barges through the beaded entrance way into one of the client operating rooms. There’s a black leather stretcher in the centre of the room and a stool sitting idle right beside it where the artist sits.

Chris goes straight for the client table though.

He smirks a toothy grin as he plops you down onto the spongy leather and you find it within yourself to crack an equally as excited smile. He nudges open your legs so that he can stand in between them and weighs his hands down onto your hips, pressing his thumbs into your bones and rubbing them fondly.

‘Did Max kiss you at all when you two fucked?’ He asks breathlessly with his cerulean eyes lilting down to your lips hungrily.

He’s itching to get all over you. He’s been dying to taste your tongue on his for ages and it just so happens that this posed as the perfect, sneaky way to do so.

‘Well, hm… not that much, but I guess a-’ you start to explain, but ‘not much’ is enough of a pathetic answer for Chris to fall forward and engulf your lips in between his before you can finish anyway.

Your little muffled whine of shock is swallowed by a Chris that attaches himself to your bottom lip quickly.

Winding one of his hands behind your back, he uses that - and the other one gripping your hip - to yank your body towards his. You two stay flushed together, and you can feel Chris’ throbbing prick against the seam of your pants already. He’s hard, and clearly pent up for you behind his low-waisted jeans.

‘That’s not good enough’ he mumbles, almost in a tongue-drunken stupor against your lips, criticising Max so that he can subtly defend his choice to kiss you.

Really, he had no need to, but fuck did he want to.

You don’t complain, in fact, you simply sigh at how close Chris is. You can feel his nose delicately skimming against your cheek the more he twists the side of his face to gain better access to you, and you can’t help but lust for the way his dewy lips wrap around your own.

The contrast between his cold fingertips brushing against your body and his hot tongue leeching out to slip into your open mouth makes you shiver.

‘N-no you’re completely right… that’s not good enough’ you coquettishly add on to the conversation you two have in between kisses. As you shit talk Max together, you only encourage Chris to take further jabs at him.

‘And what about these pretty little things here…? Did he touch these enough?’.

Chris’ nose trails down the line of your jaw to dip and run along the jugular vein of your neck whilst he pants desperately. He holds your sat figure into his standing leant one with one hand gripping your ass whilst the other one trails up to squeeze against one of your braless tits.

Wanting Chris to play with them, your blushing figure shakes its head and you swallow thickly. ‘No…’.

Chris hums a casual ‘huh’ in playfulness before the hand playing with it decides to slip itself under your shirt for better access. You heavily hiss and arch your back as soon as skin on skin contact is reached and Chris gingerly touches your peaked nipple.

‘You make me feel like such a pervert when you don’t wear a bra to shifts we do together because I stare at them all the time…’ Chris confesses as he gently kneads one of them within his big palm. Whilst he does this, his face buries itself into your neck to pepper sprinkles of sloppy kisses all over your skin.

‘What if I told you I do it on purpose… I like it when you look…’ you breathe with your head knocked back in pleasure. Chris stops his assault on your neck to gaze at you with raised eyebrows of shock.

‘Fuck. Max was an idiot for fumbling you…’

This makes both your heart flutter and your core drip. You like Chris’ praise a lot more than you like Max’s degradation, and make sure to let Chris know this by giving him another kiss.

‘S’mommy gonna let me suck on her tits?’ He ponders in a feigned babyish voice against your lips, the sweet lilt of his sensual tone almost making you melt into the client’s table.

Your needy reply of ‘yes’ is soon followed by an immediate response from Chris, who slowly reaches into his back pocket for his phone.

He slides it out and then presents it in front of your face with his brows raised.

‘And is mommy gonna let me film it so that I can send it to Max and let him see me having my treat?’.

Your eyes flick to the phone, then to Chris’ expectant face, absolutely drowning in lust at the thought of Chris wanting to film himself sucking on your tits. You nod without hesitation, and Chris smirks in victory.

He’s definitely using this to touch himself later.

Chris quickly fumbles around with his phone in excitement, scrubbing his home screen into his camera roll before he’s pressing the small red button to record himself propping it up onto the counter right next to where you were sitting.

You watch within a trance as Chris feeds his hands into the bottom of your top to sensually slide it right up your ribs. He then runs it over the top of your tits and leaves it to rest above them with a purr of ‘good girl’.

You feel your knees get physically weaker at the sight of Chris veering his face down into your tits, his mouth almost feathers against them as both of you look at the camera at the same time.

Chris has a little victorious smirk on his face, that he smugly flashes to his phone before turning back in and gently kissing your nipple.

He can’t stop his conniving smile as you seal your eyes shut and throw your head back, whimpering with your fingers combed into the back of his hair and tugging on it. Chris makes a show of poking out his tongue and licking you before he fully kisses one of your tits into his mouth to suck on it.

He moans a little starved whimper at the feeling of your soft flesh in his mouth whilst his tongue rolls and his teeth clamp down onto you.

His hands get grabby as you pant, listening to the way the microphone of the camera absorbs the sloppy sounds of him sucking on your skin whilst he kisses and licks wherever he can.

‘That feel good huh?’ Chris mumbles into you, and you whine in response with a stuttered ‘so- so good’. He nods cockily, eying the camera with your second tit already in between his teeth. ‘Yeah? This the best mouth you’ve ever had?’.

Struggling to fight off his smile at the comment he completely stole from Max, he knows it’ll make your ex’s blood boil, especially when you reply with an instantaneous shout of, ‘fuck- yes, I- I need more baby!’.

‘You want more?’ He drawls temptingly, pulling away from your chest that was now red and glistening, some sections littered with subtle teeth marks and some with purpling hickies.

‘I’ll give you more baby’ he laughs through his teeth before pressing his fingertips onto your core.

‘Hope you’re soaking for me, you’re gunna need it’ he quips before lightly trailing his hand up to the button of your zipper.

Your core clenches again when he pops it open, the insinuation that you need to be extra wet for him because of his size making you want to pass out in horniness.

He opens the front of your jeans before feeding his hands underneath your thighs so that he can pull you towards him and also force you onto your back to tug your jeans down.

After that, he watches the way you squirm when he sticks his fingers into the side of your sheer panties. In view of the camera, the pad of his thumb swipes up your slit as he checks your sensitivity himself.

‘Awe angel you are soaked… what a good girl for me’.

His sweet praise melts over you in the best way possible, and you can’t help but get shy and cover up your eyes to smile.

Sometimes you forget that the camera is there, but Chris never does, and he glances over at it constantly to smirk as if Max is already watching on the other end of the line before turning his attention back to admire you.

‘I’m gonna make that pretty pussy feel so fucking good momma’ Chris boldly states as he starts to fumble around with his chunky and glamorously rhinestoned belt buckle. The leather of it flaps and his buckle gives a metallic jingle whilst he undoes it, his hair falling in front of his eyes because of the downwards slant his head holds.

‘Please- I really need you’ you mumble breathlessly, spreading your legs even further in reaction to seeing the stretch of his cock against his white Calvin Klein boxers as soon as he lets his jeans drop to the floor with a heavy crumple.

From here you can see his thigh tattoo of a crooked spiders web, done in extremely fine ink, delicate but dark.

‘I know you need me baby I know- be patient alright?’ He shushes you with a reassuring coo, before sliding to the side of you and hopping up onto the table himself. He positions himself right in front of his still recording phone so that he can get the best angle for this.

‘Why don’t you go ahead an’ take off those panties for the camera sweet girl… do it for me?’.

Chris’ whiny sounding voice is just so sugary and compelling. You’re pretty sure you would do anything he asked if it really came to that extreme because along with his voice, his lips and eyes really did the trick for you.

Chris stutters a breath as soon as he pushes his hand down his boxers to take ahold of his hot, silky cock, it’s skin already wet with precome at just how divine you had sounded whilst he was attached to your tits.

He tightens his fist to squeeze himself and throbs in his hand, his mouth dropping open and his shoulders heaving as you slide off the table and strip from your clothes fully.

As soon as you’re done, you can feel your wetness trickling and sloshing about your folds, and so you squeeze your thighs together when looking at Chris for his next instruction.

Chris hungrily gazes down to your panties that lie in a messy heap on top of your jeans. ‘Gimme those?’ He commands and gestures for you to grab a hold of your panties and give them over to him, which you do obediently and without question.

Chris grasps ahold of them and balls them up into his fist before smirking at the camera once again. ‘These are mine now… so’s your pussy’.

You turn red at this low and beastly remark, trying hard not to pounce on top of Chris for saying it. He talks so smoothly. It’s as if every word his mouth forms puts you under a lemony haze of pleasure and you just can’t get enough of it.

You just don’t understand how he can keep this up when you yourself already look like a fucked-out hot mess.

‘I’m all yours Chris’

You practically flee into his awaiting arms, and he hoists your bare and pink centre over his lap.

Kissing your tits again, he grips onto your fleshy thighs and moans a whimper whilst side eyeing the camera in ultimate possessiveness, just to make a show of it being him who’s sucking your tits, and not Max.

He’s going to feel so smug and proud of himself as soon as he sends this his way.

‘Can I have your cock Chris, please?’ You beg, stroking his waves of hair once again to butter him up - not that you’d really need to work all that much to have his cock in the first place…

‘Of course you can Cherry, you’ve been so good for me’ Chris replies as his fingertips stroke against your stretch marks, before he leans in and whispers ‘help yourself…’.

You glance down to the tent in his boxers with your lip bitten and a giddy little smirk on your face. After Chris invites you, you waste no time in pulling his weeping cock from out of the restraints of his boxers.

The hip tattoo he has of a Cupid with angel wings, a halo and a winking face soon makes itself known to you after you tug his underwear down a little further. The ink of the little boy’s heart-encrusted bow and arrow cheekily point right to the base of Chris’ cock, and so you crack a smile, shaking your head fondly at Chris’ inappropriate but witty humour.

He’s thick and throbs in your hand, his tip sticky and slick as it pulses a light pink taffy colour whilst a thick blue vein pokes itself out from the side of his length to travel right down to his base. ‘Fuck’ you breathe. Chris looks at you cockily and is very much pleased with your wanton response.

‘Want you to sit on it till it hurts and you can’t no more precious girl’ he mumbles as he hitches your hips up into his hands and lifts you above him. You nod with a little ‘Uhuh’, your stomach flipping and oozing to feel the stretch of him. He’s bigger than Max, and the thought makes you careen in pleasure.

You almost forget that you two are both supposed to be at work, because all of this feels so private and intoxicating, and the implication of Chris making it into sex tape gives you life.

As soon as you’re placed on top of him, you hold his base so that you can sink down properly, and both of you choke out whines at how fucking amazing it feels.

‘Shit… still tight honey… has Max really been using you properly or is his cock just that small?’.

Chris can’t help it. He gets off on criticising your priggish ex boyfriend because he truly fucking hates his guts. And damn does it feel good to be fucking you with the intention of letting the man himself know through the recording of it.

‘Fuck, I feel so full’ you speak into the air.

You then have to bite your hand so that you don’t draw tears because of the burning stretch Chris gives you. It’s almost unbearably uncomfortable for the first minute of bottoming out.

But then it stops being uncomfortable and starts making you squirm again at needing some form of friction to move yourself.

So you do.

Lifting your hips slightly, you slip back downwards and grind forwards at the same time whilst Chris looks up at you with star-ridden irises. They twinkle in the light and he pants heavily after every time you move.

He soon starts to naturally move himself, needing to respond to you in some sort of way.

He loves watching your tits bounce whilst you rise and fall onto his cock, the sticky slickness of it slapping within his ears and making him want to come all over your insides already. You squeeze him so fucking well, and he equally stretches you out to the limit.

The rough skin of his prick steadily rubs against your walls and ignites an explosion of sensitivity within your centre whenever Chris pushes himself far enough to hit your g-spot. He’s so big he almost bulges from your stomach.

‘Who owns this pussy, who does it belong to?’ He barks as you squeeze your eyes closed and scrunch your nose up, having to slam your head onto his shoulder because of your overstimulation in pleasure.

You stutter out a quick ‘ugh- y-you’ as you feel Chris’ fingers grab onto your hips because of their slowing roll. He digs them into your skin and starts to move you himself at an even faster pace which makes you whine even louder.

‘Sorry… not quite sure Max heard you- can you say that again for me Cherry?’ Chris meanly rebutts and makes your cheeks flame red after he actually takes his palm and harshly swats it against the side of your thigh. You yelp at the brash cracking sound the sweaty skin-on-skin contact creates, but nevertheless still cry a humiliated ‘you!’.

Chris praises you immediately after with a soothing ‘that’s right… good girl’, before starting up his sly and conniving antics once again.

‘And whose name are you gonna be screaming from now on hmm?’.

Chris’ little taunting hum is fucking petty. But also, just what you need to finally cum.

‘Yours Chris! Fuck- all yours!!’.

You’re almost shouting as you arch your spine and throw your head back in ecstasy whilst your legs quiver and an almighty wave of euphoria rushes over your whole entire being.

‘Awe baby… cumming already? I was just getting started…’ Chris coos cockily as he lets go of one of your hips to soothingly stroke against your back with a pretty pout on his lips.

However that pout doesn’t stay for long because it struggles to fight the smirk that quickly overtakes his facial expression at the thought of how quickly he had made you cum.

He glances at the camera once more, to admire the position the both of you were in with dilated eyes, before focusing back onto you and speedily forcing your hips up and down a couple more times to finish himself off.

You squeak and claw at him in overstimulated pain, whining for him to slow down, but all he does is gently hush you in comfort. ‘I know shhh, I know. Wanna make sure I fill you up nice and good though baby’.

His voice is so gentle, and in lulls you into a drooling stupor with tears in your eyes as you claw at his tattooed back with your sharp nails. That’s going to leave heafty scratch marks.

Chris is tempted to wipe them away, but doesn’t have enough time before he’s groaning loudly and his tip is uncontrollable squirting out thick ropes of cum.

He bounces your hips a couple more times to get rid of as much as he possibly can. He wants to see it practically leaking from out of your abused hole. After he thinks you’ve milked him dry, he lets go of your bruised waist and you crumple back down into his embrace.

He rubs your back as you try to desperately regain your breath with your core raw, stinging and slimy with Chris’ cum.

‘There’s my good girl… taking all of me like that. Swear I’ll give you my babies next time you take me that well.’ He absentmindedly praises you for the last time, and you find it within yourself to laugh in disbelief, shaking your head before you slap his shoulder and lean upwards to look at him in the eyes once more.

‘Okay… you’ve proved your point. Now stop recording so I can kiss you a little more.’

Your thumbs stroke the bags underneath his eyes, and his smile is so sunny that you’re sure it could have opened up flowers on a dewy spring morning.

‘Yes ma’am…’

. ♱ .

Later that evening, Chris had sat alone in the tattoo parlour.

He had told you that you could go home early and that he’d sanitise the rooms and lock up as a special treat for you.

You had done as you were told and left a while ago, which left Chris to watch back the sex tape that you two had made earlier with a mean and satisfied smirk slapped over his lips.

He had rewatched it about 3 times, admiring the way both of you had moved with the volume all the way up to listen to your heavenly sounding whimpers. He had replayed his favourite bits a great deal and was fucking obsessed. He couldn’t help himself.

He had then exited the camera app and went straight into Instagram, searching up Max’s account profile to slide into his DMs.

With one final smirk, he had bitten his lip victoriously and selected the video of you and him together before attaching it and typing one final thing before clicking the send button and locking his phone.

Might wanna think next time you make bold allegations about how she’ll never find a better D x

. ♱ .

Author’s notes p.2: guys I’m actually so sorry for disappearing off the face of Tumblr for fuck knows how long without an explanation. Truthfully there isn’t really much of an explanation apart from the fact that I’ve simply been too busy to write (and have also had major writers block atm- hence me and @luv4kozume collab taking so long lol). BUT I’m back with something that has actually turned into one of my favourite pieces of writing on this blog, so I hope it’s been worth the wait!! I love all of you guys for asking where I’ve been and equally as much for missing me. I’ve missed writing for you guys so much and am absolutely obsessed with tattoo artist!Chris, also don’t worry you guys, you’ll get cherry popper 3 one of these days lmao… Anyways, until next time cherry pies!! 🍒

Taglist: @luverboychris @lovingmattysposts @luvmila444 @luv4kozume @stursweet @strniohoeee @strawberrysturniolo @thesturniolos @sturniolosreads @vecnasnose0 @meanttomeet @ellie-luvsfics @matthemunch @mattsleftnipple03 @robins-scoop @asturniolos @imwetforyourmom @nicksmainbitch @sturnioloenthusiast @breeloveschris @kvtie444 @rootbeerworshiper @chr1sgirl4life @hrt-attack @gigisworldsstuff @stargirlsturniololover @imlidewwallyhittingdagwiddy @sturniololoverr @jahlisa22 @bernardsgf @luvasr @meg-sturniolo @blahbel668 @liz-stxrn @sturnreblog @ratatioulle @isabellehoran @1800chokedathoe @sturnsmadl @sturniolossmut @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattslolita @sturniolowhore @skadltmf @sturniolosstar @luvsturns @mattestrella @hearts4chriss @orangeypepsi

[archonsabyss]

╰─..✶. [ Constellation of love ]

❒ pairing : zayne x fem!reader

❒ genre : romance! established relationship! hint of spice! minor angst w comfort!

❒ warnings : sexually suggestive! zayne is not the most expressive when it comes to sharing thoughts or feelings about himself (this does not apply to displays of physical affection, affirmation, your relationship on the whole)

❒ word count : 4.1k

─❒ authors note : ironic how caleb was my inspiration and driving force to write for Love and Deepspace, only for my first fic to be about zayne. this was inspired by the song "I'm Yours" -the script

His shift had ended over an hour ago, yet he remained ensconced within the unadorned walls of his mundane enclosure as the hands of the wall clock kept pace with his thudding heart. Apart from that, there was a serene stillness.

It fascinated him to an extent how this silence created room for such intense thoughts that he could almost hear his anxiety of longing; that he could almost see the reflective daze of enamorment flickering in his eyes as he looked through the expansive window, not perceiving a city nor the alignment of lights stretching across the earth, but envisioning your face and that incredibly bewitching smile.

Carved into his recollections were the smallest of details of your features— the asymmetrical dance of your smile where one lip ascended slightly higher; the delicate lines adorning your nose with its subtle scrunch; and the way your eyes neither exaggeratedly rounded nor formed tiny creases.

It was a sight he so dearly missed, but even with that profound sense of longing he still could not find the courage to retrieve his phone, dial your number, and confess the sentiment aloud. The mere contemplation of it brought about a dainty blush to the apples of his cheeks, a sensation almost bordering on embarrassment and so he closed his eyes and tried to vividly recreate your portrait from memory, only he soon realised the futility as it could never truly rival the sight of you in person. Still, he persisted because he wished nothing more than to see your broad smile with his own eyes and revel in the melody of your joyous laughter.

It takes him a lot longer than he would have preferred but eventually a blurred image manages to take shape and although it's somewhat hazy and not immediately discernable, he can well enough capture the essence of what's unfolding.

He sees the dance of your fingers sliding across his palm and intertwining with his, just before you pull him through the crowds with energy he can't quite relate to. You cast him a few glances now and then to ensure he remains right behind you, even though your firm grip on his hand already keeps him close.

The scene seamlessly morphs into a setting that feels strangely familiar to him. It reveals itself to be his bedroom, with those unmistakably moody grey walls you've suggested he decorate with portraits or perhaps a contemporary strand of fairy lights. A suggestion you eventually gave up figuring it might not suit his style. Little did you know his search history was brimming with room decorating ideas and his online cart packed with items you've recommended, hoping you'd approve the next time you visit. And so he sees you both standing in the middle of his room with your hand cradling his face and your thumb gently tracing circles on his cheeks.

It's sweet. A modest gesture that has him reminiscing of the times it actually happened, and he believes this may be where his daydream concludes. But in a sudden turn of events, the scene shifts abruptly and he's still standing at the centre of his room, only there's no longer any distance between you and him as his lips are fervently connected to yours in a flurry of provoked passion.

Behind his closed eyelids, his pupils are shaking as he witnesses the screenplay of your hands clutching his collar while your shirt drapes just below your shoulders. The expanse of skin from your earlobe to your breasts, and the distinct outline of your bra straps captivate him to an extent where his mouth salvates as he watches the version of himself in his dreams, move you backwards until the back of your knees meet the edge of his bed and you topple down, bringing him along with you.

Zayne managed to catch his weight before it crushed you by extending a hand out to connect with the mattress all while keeping the kiss intact and it is the course of moans emanating from your throat after he does that forces him to snap back into reality and confront the repercussions of his wandering mind.

The pounding of his heart stirs up a droning noise in his ears that is so unmistakably audible, that they practically sing in delight as his embarrassment draws out a shaky breath from his lips.

Zayne blinked his widened eyes at the provocative thoughts and placed a hand over his mouth in sheer disbelief, feeling the seething heat emanating from his face beyond his control while the tips of his ears burned with a blend of warmth and self-awareness.

"Pull yourself together," He monotones to himself as several minutes pass him where his senses traverse along the plains of questioning his dignity.

He grapples with the shame of his desperation for you that he remains unaware of the door to his office opening and closing, as well as the rhythmic clicking of footsteps approaching him just as your voice emerges with a murmured greeting, and your arms envelop his waist, prompting him to startle and turn on his feet ready to have a word with whoever dared to initiate such intimacy. But his apprehension quickly dissipates upon realizing it's you.

As if anyone else would ever have the guts to initiate physical touch with him, of all people.

"Missed me" You grinned up at him and there's that breathtaking smile of yours that has haunted his every thought for the entire day.

He hums in response to your question knowing his feelings better conveyed themselves through actions, and so he reaches out to delicately grasp your chin between his thumb and index finger and descends upon your lips with his own in a kiss that feels like a reenactment of the inception of his less-than-innocent daydream.

It's a kiss with a superiority that far surpasses the one shared in his thoughts by such a considerable margin and he indulges himself with utmost care in the way his mouth moves against yours.

His lips are soft as they nibble and tenderly envelop your lower one. The kiss is far from being only intricate with the amount of exploring tongues that delve into every crevice of each other's mouths. The saliva mingles and coats your lips at an exceptionally slow and gentle pace, creating a faint blend of moisture as the kisses smack with the occasional muted suctioning.

You're so lost in each other, that you lose track of time until the necessity to pull back for air arises. You take note that your lungs were not as adept at holding prolonged breaths at a time, as his were.

As you retreat, the realization settles upon you that you were only moments away from taking it somewhere else. Your cheeks flush with a heat under the intense gaze emanating from his eyes that peer at you through the glass of his spectacles.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, the resonance of his deep, husky voice echoing in your ears and inciting the butterflies within your stomach to run a mock.

Had you been anyone else you likely would have recoiled beneath the icy and distant timbre of his voice, misinterpreting the straightforward tone and failing to notice the underlying concern that hinted in his eyes.

"We haven't seen each other for afew days. Didn't you miss me orworry about me?" You teased.

"The weather was nice and judging by your flood of messages you must have been fine without me. Though I'd like to know why you arrived without texting me in advance."

"I missed you"

He tilts his head, denying the way his heart leapt at the confession. "What if I had already gone home?"

He steps back to create a bit of distance without raising your suspicion as he quite honestly needs a moment to quell his tumultuous heart before he takes you into his arms, which inevitably he will do again but only after he gets himself under control. Zayne casts a brief glance in your direction as he rounds his desk and begins to collect the scattered sheets of paper and neatly stack them, feigning busyness.

"I took my chances and would you look at that, I walked into your office to find you exactly where I had hoped you'd be" You remarked, watching as he perused through documents

"That was reckless of you," He chimed with a small disapproving shake of his head. "What if I wasn't here? All the money you spent on transportation would have been a waste. Not to mention it is quite late and you're out alone at night."

"Oh you're such a worrywart" You dismissed with a roll of your eyes, "Give me a break will you, Love? It's enough dealing with Caleb and Grandma as is and now you too. Besides, I was on my way to your apartment when I remembered to call you, but of course, you didn't answer and so I contacted the hospital and they mentioned Dr Zayne was still in despite his shift ending─" You looked down at your wrist-watch, "Almost four hours ago"

"Either way─"

You interrupt him by reaching over the desk and placing a finger on his lips to silence him. "If you're going to pretend you're not happy to see me I can always leave, and then both the money and coming here would be an actual waste"

It was hard to get his final say when you inadvertently threatened him with the possibility of leaving, knowing it was his weakness as of right now. That alone was enough to have him seal his mouth shut and accept the situation.

You practically radiate with approval as he simply gives in without a further fight.

Zayne let out a deep sigh as he settled into his seat and pushed aside whatever papers remained in the middle. He observed you from across the desk and gave a small tilting gesture with his head, hoping you'd read between the unspoken lines and figure out what he wanted without him having to explicitly state it. Fortunately for him, you did.

You left your bag behind on the opposite end of his desk as you circled it to reach him.

He slid back and swivelled to the side, his legs parting in invitation.

Your gaze falls to his lap as you halt in your steps, a flush creeping across your face upon noticing the bulge that presses against the fabric of his pants and Zayne's unfazed expression. He simply raises a brow and boldly takes your hand, leading you to perch on his lap.

An unusual shyness takes over you even though it's not the first time you've sat on his lap. Perhaps it's the solitude of being alone in his work environment with the romantic view of a thousand stars and the glow of man-made lights illuminating the world beyond the window.

"Why exactly haven't you gone home yet?" You whisper tenderly as your fingers trace over the noticeable dark circles beneath his eyes framed by the metallic obsidian of his glasses. "You look exhausted"

You touched these tired eyes of mine

And mapped my face out line by line

And somehow growing old feels fine

He worries if he should succumb to his vulnerability and confess the truth, or retort with something dismissive. But he decides to rid himself of questioning everything and leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed as you cradle his face.

"What's on your mind, Zayne"

Listen close for I'm not smart

He feels your hands leave his face, and he's about to voice a complaint when he senses his spectacles sliding off his face, followed by a brief pause and then the unmistakable feeling of your lips leisurely planting kisses on the bridge of his nose, his forehead, and the dark circles beneath his eyes.

You wrap your thoughts in works of art

And they're hanging on the walls of my heart

Despite their roughness, his hands display the utmost gentleness when he holds your sides and the feeling your touch evokes makes his fingers press with a reassuring weight into your hips to anchor himself in the moment.

I may not have the softest touch

I may not say the words as such

And though I may not look like much

"Talk to me" You encourage. Your voice, like the delicate touch of flower petals falling. His ears are attuned and he blinks his eyes open, directly locking gazes with you. Ever so slightly they soften and his eyebrows unfurrow, the side of his lips raising with subtle visibility and he's sure as the dawn, understanding like never before with a knowledge he's never embraced prior.

I'm yours

He's yours

Zayne smiles at the thought, and even though you've been fortunate enough to witness it more than anyone else it will never cease to be a welcomed delight. You can't quite pinpoint why his aura appears more at ease now but you have no intention of complaining. He leans his face closer to yours, his eyes demanding a reaction while his hand places on the side of your head causing you to direct your gaze to his tie.

"Have you gotten into any trouble lately" His voice, dripping with honey, lowers as he speaks to you.

You shake your head with furrowed brows in response to his inquiry.

"I'm not always out looking for trouble!" You retort.

"No, but it seems drawn to you, and hence, it finds you"

"My trouble magnet must not be that strong considering it seems ineffective against a certain kind of trouble."

He arches a single, incredibly attractive brow. "Are you implying I'm trouble?"

"Am I?"

"I wouldn't grasp the meaning even if you did Love. I'm far too occupied with work to find myself in any sort of trouble, and it would seem my hands are tied dealing with a little troublemaker of my own. Besides, I don't reckon two troublemakers would make a balanced couple, would they now"

"So you're implying I'm the trouble one between us?"

"Not at all" He fails to hide the amusement from peaking out through the smirk that tilts his lips. "I just believe you're quite the allure to things not entirely safe."

"Oh, is this some kind of insinuation as well?" You scrunch your nose. "Not entirely safe as in...?"

A pregnant pause hangs in the air as silence cuts through. Suddenly, it hits you, and you snap your head at him with wide eyes, your jaw dropping in disbelief. "Oh."

He chuckles, poking your forehead. "You talk too much."

"You talk too little!"

"Do you want me to talk more?"

"Yes. No... Yes..." You groan, covering your eyes with your hand. "Don't ask me questions like that."

"Want to hear my voice that much?" The smug tone in his voice accompanies that breath-stealing smirk as he pries your hand from your eyes and kisses your knuckles.

"This is exactly what getting into trouble feels like," You mutter under your breath. "You're fucking trouble. I think I need my heart checked. As a doctor, you're causing more damage than healing"

For dramatic effect, you accelerate your breathing and pretend to heave for air while clutching your heart.

"Your condition is incurable," Zayne slips his arm around your waist and draws you flush against him until your noses touch. "You can't get rid of me so easily."

"Seems you're doing that on your own though" He becomes more attentive upon hearing the sigh you exert afterwards, and the air tenses ever so slightly.

"What does that mean, Angel?"

"Don't think I forgot how you evaded my questions earlier."

"It is nothing"

"Mhm, nothing as in something?"

"It is nothing to concern yourself with" He withdraws.

"I won't pry for now, but perhaps you should head home and get some sleep. You looked more exhausted than usual."

"I'm fine."

"You should still go home."

"I'd rather not."

"Why?"

"You're prying."

"I'm concern-ing"

"That's not how the word is meant to be used," He corrects, and you're on the verge of exploding when you muster a fake smile, relenting with exaggerated sarcasm, "I'm expressing concern. Happy now?"

"Thrilled," He deadpans, and you pinch his cheek causing him to glare at you.

"So you don't want to go home"

"I did not say that"

"You're unusually stubborn, especially when it involves something you don't want to disclose. So why the reluctance to go home?" You pointed it out knowingly.

Zayne remains silent in response to your questions, his lips tightly sealed as his thoughts delve into the depths of contemplation. It has neared an hour and a half since your arrival that dispelled the loneliness that took hold of him, and he hesitates to provide any reason for you to leave. He knows that sharing his worries will give you every reason to stay and never leave his side, but he grapples with the discomfort that opening up about his internal struggles could bring. The prospect of delving into his emotions and sharing them with you raises uncertainties about the potential outcomes, creating a hesitant barrier in his mind.

For him, it's something seemingly insignificant yet deeply personal. For someone who has dedicated their entire life to saving others and dealing with countless individuals and their distinct reactions, this internal struggle appears unusually challenging.

In that moment, it's you, nestled on his lap offering him the world through just your touch and your unconditional love for him. A soul poised between a state of simple and unadorned equilibrium. Someone who admitted a thousand times over how much they missed him, how much they loved him, how insatiable the longing for his presence was, they were all woven together by a thread of love and your shyness and nervous anticipation.

His long slender fingers touch your cheeks, his mind teetering towards admittance.

"I've somehow lost touch with the experience of solitude" He states, though he appears entirely lost in a world of his own. "I've missed you"

His hand drifts lower, parting your lips with his thumb. "Going to a place without you there seemed pointless. Calling it home when your presence is absent makes it feel empty. And so I chose to stay back and wait until my exhaustion reached a point where returning to my apartment wouldn't leave me yearning for you constantly"

And though my edges may be rough

"I must admit this is a foreign feeling to me, and while it is not as awkward as I anticipated, it does cause a bit of embarrassment. I feel as though I come across as excessively reliant on you, as if I lack emotional independence"

I never feel I'm quite enough

I may not seem like very much

But I'm yours

"This feels like the most you've ever talked to me despite knowing each other for almost our entire lives" You smiled, holding back a sob as tears welled up in your eyes and he found your reaction puzzling, wondering about the reason behind it.

He is unaware of the significance this holds for you and your relationship. His confession carries substantial weight, revealing feelings he has guarded closely all this time. These emotions kept hidden for so long are something you've gently encouraged him to share, trying not to press too hard or pry them out of him but aiming to help him unburden himself. It feels as though the red string of fate has finally begun to extend a bit further, as if the stars now align and connect, finally crossing the barriers they once held, bringing the ends together at long last.

Your love is deeply passionate and intertwined, much like those red strings, and your love is written in the constellations of those stars that run far across the galaxy.

"Why are you crying, Angel"

Your quivering smile reveals the acknowledgment in your heart. You nod as if agreeing to his every word, freeing yourself from restraint and allowing the tears to flow as he gently brushes them away with the pads of his thumbs.

You healed these scars over time

Embraced my soul, you loved my mind

"You do know you just indirectly asked me to move in with you, don't you?" You chuckled breathlessly, joy accompanying the sentimental realization.

Zayne's mouth forms an 'oh'... "I didn't consider it from that perspective, but I suppose it amounts to the same thing."

Your grin spreads so wide that it's uncontrollable your cheeks ache from the happiness. Zayne carefully wipes away the remainder of your tears and seals the moment with a tender kiss that erases its every trace. He then pats your thigh which signals you to rise from his lap so he can stand up.

He leans down to your height with his left hand resting on his desk and the other cupping your face once again.

"It's entirely up to you." His whispered exhale caresses your lips, his eyes boring into yours. "I desire you more than anything. Should you decide to agree, you'll have me more frequently than my work permits."

"You'd divorce your work for me?"

He dismisses your teasing with a slight shake of his head and a hint of a smile, "Unbelievable. But if that's what you would like to think of it..."

"The idea sounds quite domestic," You giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck. "I'd love to have you all to myself every second you're at home, to the point where you might even get annoyed with me. But─ I wouldn't want to entirely pull you away from your work – work that helps people and has been one of the reasons I fell in love with you. I'll be content enough just to have you return home to me afterwards every night"

His heart rate undeniably quickens, evident in the pulsing of his neck and the shallowness of his breathing. You release your arms from around his neck and tend to the details of his appearance, straightening his collar and adjusting his tie.

"Besides," You add, "I love seeing you in your lab coat; it's insanely attractive"

Zayne presses a kiss to your cheek before trailing down to the sensitive area beneath your ear, a sense of excitement coursing through his veins as he envisions the promising future. In an instant, the prospect of returning to his apartment becomes highly anticipated, and the allure of his bed grows even more irresistible.

He swiftly gathers his phone and essentials as you pick up your bag and wait for him near the door. As he finishes, he approaches, noticing your outstretched hand and arching an eyebrow.

"What's with that expression?" You wrinkle your nose at the way he's eyeing your hand. "You worried your colleagues will see us holding hands?"

"On the contrary, I'd prefer if they saw it," he responds, taking your hand and interlocking your fingers.

"Then?"

He adorably tilts his head glasses once again perched on the bridge of his nose as you open the door, and he follows, "This is- quite a twist to how I imagined my day would unfold."

"It's only the beginning. You're in for a weekend of sprucing up your apartment with me," You playfully announce. "While I appreciate the modern aesthetic, I think you need something that feels more like a home."

"What have I gotten myself into" He muses, shaking his head, but deep down he harbours no regret, no wish for anything different – he'd have it no other way because the minute he heard your words, 'feel more like a home', it's like you knew him and what resided at his core, and a home with you is everything he longed for. Now, hand in hand, it's finally within reach.

"Hey, Zayne..."

He emits a soft hum as you cast a glance over your shoulder while he observes the illuminated numbers above the elevator descending.

"Let's go home"

He grins with a radiance unseen before, his eyes aglow with newfound brilliance. Nodding in agreement, he echoes the warmth of the sentiment. "Home is where the heart is," knowing his heart rests in your delicate hands.

You're the only angel in my life

☣ copyright @archonsabyss all rights reserved // do not copy; steal; plagiarize; reword or repost my works to any other platform! No translations!! All credits to original owners of characters/anime/pictures that are not my own!

[evie-sturns]

𝙎𝙣𝙚𝙖𝙠 - 𝙈𝙖𝙩𝙩 𝙎𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙤𝙡𝙤

summary: ever since you and matt started a family, you haven't had any privacy.

contains: Smut, dad!matt, sneaking around, swearing.

—————-----------..••°°°°••..--------------------------

matt and i have 2 kids together, 3 and 4 years old, which means absolutely no privacy with 2 toddlers. we've only hooked up once or twice in the past 4 years.

"matt, its 6pm, the kids need dinner." i yawn, hoisting myself up off our couch and pausing the movie. matt instantly jumps up behind me, "let me help sweetheart." he says, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind.

"just go round up charlotte and olive please, they're in the play room." i groan, walking into the kitchen, throwing together some pasta.

matt disappears up the stairs. i grab 2 bowls and some paper forks as i dump plain pasta into both of them, "matt!!" i call out, he instantly runs downstairs, both our girls giggling under his arms.

a warm smile spreads across my face as he plops the toddlers down in their seats, kissing them both on their foreheads as he walks toward me in the kitchen, grabbing both bowls from my hands. "looks incredible" he smiles

"matt it's plain pasta." i rub my eyes.

he gives both the kids the pasta before turning around back into kitchen.

he gives me those eyes before walking into the bedroom, removing his shirt as he's halfway through the doorframe. my heartrate picks up,

why am i so nervous?

"fuck fuck fuck" i whisper to myself as i open the bedroom door.

"you seem stressed hm?" he mutters, i lock the door behind me.

matt walks over to me, swiftly picking me up before pushing me down on the mattress. "gonna have to be quiet for me yeah?" he says, I nod frantically. he yanks off my tanktop, before pulling down my sweat-shorts, leaving me revealed for him.

"so gorgeous." he whispers, taking me all in.

"don't lie matt." i mumble, looking away slightly

matt grabs my chin, making me look at him. "don't say shit like that, you're quite literally perfect yeah?" he says sternly.

i close my eyes, he squeezes my chin tighter "look at me." matt says angrily, leaning over me. i nod, looking him in the eyes "gonna prove how much i love you mhm?" he says, unbuckling his belt throwing it to the floor before yanking down his jeans.

i moan lightly as his boxers drop to the floor, "you ready?" he questions, lining himself up with my entrance. he slowly pushes inside of me, a loud whimper escapes his mouth, boosting my ego slightly.

"fuck..." he groans, gripping the sheets tight as he slowly thrusts in and out "doesn't get old," he whispers, gripping my hip with his free hand, hard enough to leave a hand print.

his thrusts quicken, my moans filling the room, "not gonna last long- with those pretty noises-" he stammers, "im gonna fuck.." i warn, he grips my waist tighter "cum for me." he whispers, i instantly clench around his length, the knot in my stomach snaps.

"good girl.." he mumbles frantically as he pulls out, painting my torso with white streaks.

he falls down in the bed beside me. "you feel.. so good." he says out of breath, i scoot closer to him, wrapping my bare legs around him.

-

"mooommm!!!" a loud scream comes from the kitchen. i let out a loud sigh, getting off the bed and quickly re-dressing. i stumble out of the bedroom, my legs still numb.

theres pasta all over the floor, followed by juice and the plastic cup it was in. both the kids are screaming and crying. "for fucks sake." i whisper, throwing my face in my hands. i hear footsteps behind me, its matt. his shirt is on inside out, no belt, just jeans.

i walk towards the kitchen, grabbing paper towels as i walk over, bending over to clean up the spill. matt picks me up from behind, placing me on the stairs as he grabs the supplies off me, quickly scooping up the mess. he grabs both girls. one in each arm as he jumps around with them, their tears instantly turn into giggles.

i laugh, standing up off the stairs.

"how are you so good at parenting matt." i sigh, a smile spread across my face as i pull matt into a hug.

—————-----------..••°°°°••..--------------------------

lot of requests for daddy matt so here yall areee!!

[stevebabey]

it was supposed to be short n small and now its 3k & its unedited and u all have to just deal with it bcos it was supposed to be SMALL | ao3

The driver's side car window makes a resounding thunk when Steve’s forehead falls against it.

Through the glass, his keys glint tauntingly back at him.

Still tucked in the ignition, locked in on the inside. So close and yet so far from Steve who is, unfortunately, locked on the outside.

I’m such a fucking idiot.

He lets his head raise up a bit just to drop it back against the window again, this time more in punishment. Of course, of course, he coughs up the money needed for a warrant of fitness and then he goes and locks his keys in the car the next day. Like he needed one more cost added to his finances.

Steve steals a glance at his watch. Fuck, if he doesn’t get on the road in the next 10 minutes, he’ll be more than late to work.

His eyes glance across to Eddie’s van, parked beside his own car, outside the trailer home in Forest Hills. Then he looks back at the trailer.

He can ask. He can just go inside and ask Eddie for the lift— and explain that the reason he can’t take his own perfectly fine car is because he’s so goddamn thick between the ears that he’s locked his keys inside, like some kind of moron.

The voice in his head sounds suspiciously like his father.

Something thick grows in his throat. He swallows it to no avail. Embarrassment begins to flush down his neck, hot and uncomfortable.

No, no— he can’t ask Eddie because as far as Steve knows, Eddie hasn’t quite figured it out yet.

Even while Dustin and Mike make their jokes about him being a bit slow, even when Robin says at least you have your pretty face, Eddie brushes them off and laughs. Takes them as jokes with no merit to them. Steve knows though.

So what if he doesn’t want to burst his bubble just yet?

He knows Eddie will figure it out eventually— because they always do. When he asks too many stupid questions and needs things explained twice and— and it’s just inevitable, okay? He knows that.

Fixing his glare through the window of his car at the shiny pair of keys within, Steve wrestles with what would be worse; being late or accidentally tipping Eddie off when they’ve just gotten so close.

Close enough to share a kiss, two nights ago, under the covers. It was barely more than a peck. But Steve knew it had taken a miraculous amount of courage from Eddie to do it— to surge forward and grab Steve’s face, his rings cool against his skin, and press his mouth against his Steve's own.

Eddie’s lips had been chapped but his smile had been pure sunshine and Steve thinks he could’ve stayed forever under that blanket, memorising the shade of pink Eddie’s cheeks turn after a kiss.

They’ve been dancing around it ever since. Each interaction is more charged, more flirty, more gooey. Long lingering looks and pointed nudges that make Steve feel like a 14-year-old with a crush again, in the best way.

So, no. He exactly can’t go ask.

With a heavy sigh and glance up at the darkening sky, Steve is only glad he’s not supposed to pick up Robin today as he begins to walk.

—

One phone call to the auto-shop reveals exactly how much it’ll cost to get his keys retrieved. Which is, to say, entirely too much for one adult living on the wage of a Family Video employee.

And they won’t be able to get anyone out for another whole day.

Growing more and more frustrated with himself, Steve angrily jots the number down into his little notebook, the pen pressing down hard enough to leave indents on the page behind it. Keith is somewhere out the back, snacking no doubt, and leaving Steve to man the front.

Normally, it wouldn’t bother him— especially because he could discretely make the phone call he needed— but now it’s just him, the empty store, and the number in his notebook that stares back at him.

Oh, and it’s raining.

The darkening sky from earlier had transformed into something closer to a thunderstorm, rain lashing against the windows and driving any and all customers away. Which is fantastic— just what Steve needs now, really the fucking cherry on the top.

The phone rings, the noise unusually shrill in the silence of the store. The film playing amongst the aisles has been on mute as soon as he’d gotten his hands on the remote and Keith had disappeared out the back.

Steve stares at the phone, watching it ring once, twice, before he picks it up with a heavy sigh. He dredges up his customer service voice.

“This is Family Video, how can I help?” He greets, putting as much pep into his voice as he can manage—which turns out to be a meagre amount.

“Did you walk to work today?”

Steve straightens up at the sound of Eddie’s voice on the other end of the line. His free hand instinctively smooths down the front of his vest before he quickly remembers Eddie can’t actually see him.

“Eddie?” He asks, instead of answering the question.

“Your Highness, himself,” Eddie responds. His tone is that usual jaunty playfulness that Steve’s come to adore. “Now answer the question, Steve-o. I thought you were one of those smart guys who actually listens when the weather report comes on the radio. Why the hell did you walk?”

Steve’s shoulders curl in, just an inch, and his eyes seek out the open notebook with the quoted amount, underlined and circled, staring back at him. His throat grows a lump at Eddie’s unknowingly poor choice of words.

“Thought I would walk today.” He replies, his voice clipped. “You know, walking, exercise, good for you? Any of these ringing a bell for you, Munson?”

It’s supposed to be a joke but Steve can tell by the end of the sentence, it’s come out way too sour to land that way. He sounds mean.

Steve cringes, clutching the phone a little tighter and screwing up his eyes. He waits for Eddie’s response.

“You know,” Eddie says, sounding a lot duller all of a sudden. “I was calling to maybe offer you a lift through the rain—”

“Sorry, I’m sorry, that-“ Steve cuts in, that same strange embarrassment swelling in his throat. “I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.”

“—But if you’re gonna be a dick about it, you can enjoy the walk.”

Steve grits his teeth and pinches the bridge of his nose because this feels a little too much like a line from his Dad— but it isn’t because Steve is the one digging this hole all on his own. He’s the idiot who fucking locked his keys in his car and walked to work and snapped at Eddie and—

“No, I’m sorry.” He says, still a bit too tense.

Idiot, idiot, you’re being a fucking idiot, Harrington.

“A ride would be appreciated. Please.”

A pause. This time when Eddie speaks, he’s a little softer. “You off at five today?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. I’ll see you at five.”

The dial tone sounds as Eddie hangs up but Steve stays where he is, phone pressed against his one good ear, with a sinking feeling in his stomach. The rain begins to flood the parking lot.

—

Five o’clock comes around too soon.

The rain has let up, just barely, but enough that Steve can actually see Eddie’s van when it pulls up into the parking lot. It rocks about dangerously in the wind and Steve suddenly feels bad for making Eddie come out to get him.

He could’ve stayed here, taken the longer shift. Told Keith to take off early and just walked back home when the rain let up a little more— or just camped out the back on the couch in the employee room if it never did.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

He’d started doing it more and more when his parent’s visits to home became more frequent. It was easy to pull a few white lies out and Steve far preferred answering questions like: Where were you last night? than Why won't you come out to our event tonight? Show face for the Harrington's? It's not like you're doing anything with your life, right?

The only reason he’d stopped, actually, was because he had become good friends with Eddie.

Eddie, who loved his company almost any hour of the day. Who gobbled up each and every morsel of food Steve cooked up, whether it was good or partially burned on the sides. Who told him he had a place in the trailer, day or night, rain or shine.

Eddie who… was waiting outside at five o’clock exactly, pulled up to the curb so Steve wouldn’t have to walk through the rain for more than a moment.

There’s a sliver of surprise, deep within his chest; like he thought Eddie might’ve not shown up and forced him to walk through the rain, just to learn his lesson. It would make sense, Steve thinks. You reap what you sow.

He clocks out hastily, barely murmuring his exit to Keith who doesn’t look up in the slightest. Steve heads for the door and decides then and there, he’ll happily pay the number in his notebook if he doesn’t have to tell Eddie what a fucking moron he actually is.

Water splashes as he dashes down the steps and Eddie’s leaning across, pushing the door open so Steve doesn’t even have to wait to yank it open in the rain. He slides in, sprinkled with rain, slams the door closed, and instantly gets blasted with heat.

“God, you’re a lifesaver,” Steve sighs, sticking his hands out towards the air vents which are working in overdrive. They whir loudly in complaint. Eddie smiles, the apples of his cheeks glowing in the warmth, and twists the wheel, his eyes on the road before him.

The van groans and the bumper dips, kissing the gutter, as they roll out onto the road and head for Forest Hills. For a moment, Eddie focuses on driving straight before he flicks his gaze across to Steve.

“You know I wouldn’t have actually let you walk, right?”

Steve blinks, unsure of what to say in response, because he actually did think that was a possibility until about 2 minutes ago. He shivers as a stray drop in his hair sneaks under his collar, cold and wet.

“Right.” He answers, giving a hesitant smile back.

They’re driving slower than usual due to the rain. Steve lets himself sink back into the worn seats of the van, comforted by the familiar smells. A tang of tobacco, a stronger hint of weed, and that musky deodorant that Eddie swears by— even if Steve has never heard of the brand before.

But, well, it must be working in some sense because when Steve takes a deep breath, he smells it and feels a sense of calm. He doesn’t even notice he’s begun staring.

The strange weather has made Eddie’s hair frizzier than usual and paired with his rosy cheeks, Steve thinks he looks goddamn delectable. He gets caught up in a daydream about having a hot chocolate when they get back to the trailer, maybe even sharing a blanket on the couch and—

And then, Eddie turns and says, “So, wanna tell me why you walked? For real, this time?”

Something shrivels up within Steve. The tightness in his throat from this morning returns. He turns his head and looks out the window.

“I don’t get why you don’t believe me when I say I walked because I wanted to.” He grumbles, almost too low for Eddie to hear over the rain.

Why are they still talking about this? He thinks of the keys through the driver’s side window, thinks of the number in his notebook and the much smaller one in his bank account, and has to hold back from thumping his head against the glass again.

Something metallic jingles behind him.

Steve whips around, his eyes zeroing in on his keys dangling from Eddie’s hand— clearly just retrieved from his pocket. Something ugly and warm wakes up inside him, his stomach knotting uncomfortably, and his cheeks start to burn in embarrassment.

Idiot, Idiot, Idiot.

He knows, he already fucking knows how stupid you are.

Eddie’s eyes dart off the road to look at Steve. “Cos you’re clearly not telling the truth.”

Steve averts his gaze, turning his face back to the window and the wet pavement rushing by beneath the car. He swallows but the lump in his throat doesn’t move.

“Okay, look I don’t actually care that you walked to work,” Eddie continues, placing the keys down in the cup holder between the seats. “I just don’t get why you wouldn’t tell me that they were locked in your car.”

Steve can’t help it, the way his shoulders hike up. His teeth sink into his bottom lip meanly, nearly drawing blood. He doesn’t get it, he doesn’t get it— Eddie’s still trying to rationalise away what everyone else has already figured out.

“I just—” Steve starts, on the defence, but it comes out a bit too wet. He forces himself to swallow again, thankful there’s no sting of tears in his eyes. “I can fix that shit on my own. That’s all.”

“Well, yeah,” Eddie agrees.

Below them both, the hum of the van begins to dwindle and Steve realises abruptly that Eddie’s slowing down, pulling over to the side of the road. He looks to the side, at Eddie.

“Please, c’mon, I just wanna go home, man.” Steve pleads, not even caring that he’s referred so casually to Eddie’s trailer as his home.

“Wait, just,” Eddie waves a hand as he sticks the van into park, releasing the wheel and properly turning to Steve.

“I just want to understand. You know I can pop the door to most cars in, like, 5 minutes. Why didn’t you just ask?”

“Eddie,” Steve stresses, turning away with a pointed sigh. He runs a hand through his hair, latching onto the roots and tugging at it. “Just leave it, please.”

“Or asked for a lift!” Eddie continues, his hands gesturing out a bit wildly. “I could’ve given you a lift even.”

Steve's eyes slice across the van and he wills back every emotional outburst that wants to lash out of him, to poke the right spot that will hurt to get Eddie to back off.

But Eddie is just staring at him, brown eyes wide, a little furrow between his brows, and is just confused. Concerned.

“If you keep driving,” Steve murmurs, almost dejectedly. He ducks his head low and turns back to the window. “I’ll tell you.”

It works— the engine rumbles back to life and the wheels roll gently back out onto the road, just a couple more minutes from Forest Hills. Steve watches the road and tries to grasp for the right thing to say, each possibility dissolving like smoke. His eyes squeeze shut tightly. The rain dins loudly on the roof of the van, a song and dance of the elements.

By the time they’re entering Forest Hills, Steve still hasn’t said a word. The van crawls up into its usual spot, next to Steve’s own car, and Steve stares down at it. He can hear the soft click of Eddie’s seatbelt as he releases it.

He supposes it’s too late now, anyway. Eddie already knows. He keeps his eyes out the window as he speaks, his voice flat and dull.

“I just... I didn’t want you to think that I’m an idiot, too.”

There’s a questioning noise behind him, a little noise from Eddie’s throat that slips out, unbidden.

“Too?” He echoes. “Steve? Who thinks you’re an idiot?”

Steve huffs loudly and turns back, throwing his hands up. “Jesus, who doesn’t? Would you like a list?”

Eddie’s face twists into a meaner expression than Steve's ever seen before and for once, he properly matches the dark clothes and spooky tattoos he dons.

“Yes. And I’ll go door to door— wait,” He shuffles, shifting up onto his knees so he can stretch over the console and place his large hands on either side of Steve’s face, directing his gaze towards him.

It’s reminiscent of a kiss not too long ago. Despite all the burning self-deprecation that churns inside, the pleasant reminder dulls it significantly.

“I’ll go door to door to anyone who ever made you feel that way,” Eddie repeats, now face to face with Steve, their noses nearly touching. His brows are still pull tight into a furious frown. But it's not at him, Steve realises. “And I’ll do something— I’m not sure what yet, but it’ll be foul and like, maybe I’ll put instant mash potatoes on their lawn and— okay the specifics aren’t relevant but this— this is.”

He searches Steve’s face intently, eyes darting around, making sure the message is sinking in. His expression softens out, his eyes suddenly sweeter than before. “You’re aren’t an idiot, Steve. You aren’t an idiot for making a mistake and I’ve never thought that about you.”

Steve blinks. Swallows heavily and god fucking dammit, is the thickness in his throat ever going to disappear? This time it feels different though. He’s not sure how.

“You don’t think I’m an idiot, do you?” Eddie asks.

Steve shakes his head, moving Eddie’s hands with them at the same time. It’s true, he doesn’t. Eddie is… goddamn fucking wonderful. He’s like a warm summer shower through the wretched seasons of Steve’s life. One of the reasons it was worth living through the entire ordeal of 86.

The rain outside continues, pitter-pattering on the roof, somehow softer than it was a second ago.

“Okay,” Eddie says, a small smile on tugging on his lips.

“Okay,” Steve says back. He tries for a smile and it’s easier than expected, though it wobbles at the ends. It doesn’t matter— Eddie is still gazing at him, brown eyes shining and Steve believes what he says.

“Okay,” Eddie says one more time, his smile turning closer to a grin. “Let’s go make some cocoa, yeah?”

He moves to retract his hands but Steve moves faster, his hands darting up to hold them in their place, palms against his cheeks.

“Wait,” Steve murmurs, watching how Eddie stills and keeps his closeness, their noses still a couple inches from touching— and Steve clings to the threads of courage in him tightly.

His hands slide off Eddie’s, grasping lightly at his wrists, and it’s easy to lean forward and connect their mouths in one swift motion.

Eddie squeaks— then melts.

It takes half a second before he remembers to kiss back, equally as enthusiastic and it’s nothing like the first kiss they shared under the covers. The rain dances around them and Steve swipes his thumbs over Eddie’s pulse soothing, feeling the barest jump of his rabbiting pulse.

When he shifts back, breaking the kiss, Steve keeps the closeness, the tips of their noses bumping together. Eddie’s hands feel blazing warm on Steve’s cheeks but when his lashes flutter open, catching sight of Eddie’s glorious pink cheeks, he thinks it might be his face burning up too.

They tumble inside through the rain and with all of Steve’s prayers answered today, they also share a blanket on the couch, ankles linked beneath the rumpled fabric. They make hot chocolate, Steve’s style, and sip it at, making googly eyes at each other over the rim of their mugs— until Eddie laughs too much and spits it down his front.

Steve doesn’t feel stupid again— unless that is, you count feeling stupidly sappy.

(He does not.)

[jaylaxies]

HARD THOUGHT !

pairing: jay x fem!reader x heeseung

wc: 987 words

cw: smut, threesome, birthday sex, double penetration, usage of nicknames.

warning: 18+ content, minors dni

a/n: its super rushed but happy birthday @heesuncore 💗

You wondered what your roommates would be up to this year, granted they did go out of their way to get you a cake, surprising you the exact second as the clock hit twelve, indicating that you were finally a year older. The surprise was sweet considering you hadn’t known each other for more than a month, being new roommates.

However, a lot had changed over the span of a year, which also included your current relationship with the boys. You were close, and the boys were overprotective when it came to you, which was endearing enough as it was, yet you never expected them to genuinely spoil you, getting you your favourite flowers, snacks, and also cooking for you whenever they got the time to do so. They kept you entertained, always, and you would be lying if you say that you didn’t have even the tiniest bit of attraction towards the two boys, Jay and Heeseung.

They looked godly, they carried themselves with the utmost respect too, which only made you fall deeper for both of them. Which brings you back here: Your eyes were covered with a silky black cloth, which blocked your vision perfectly as Hee and Jay stood on either side of you, holding your arm to guide you into your room, a sweet scent of cake lingering in the air, mixed with something vanilla flavoured, which you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

Jay opened your blindfold to reveal your decorated room, full of balloons and polaroids everywhere, scented candles lit up and a pretty cake kept on the centre of your bed. The biggest smile graced your face, the boys mirroring your expression soon after. Jay and Heeseung held the cake up together, the candles illuminating your face as you closed your eyes, wishing for the things you wanted so deeply before blowing the candles.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart,” both the boys whispered, feeding you little bites of the cake before keeping it aside, their attention solely on you, especially when you pulled them into a hug, “ready for your gift?” They asked, making you look up at them in confusion.

“Wasn’t this a gift though?” You asked and they stepped closer, Heeseung’s finger caressing your cheek, “do you trust us?” He asked, and you shivered with how Jay’s warm hand rested on your waist, “tell us, baby,” he mutters, his voice raspier than ever, your knees felt weak just by this.

“I do,” you manage to let out, eyes fluttering close, feeling Heeseung’s lips on your neck, “yeah? Then are you okay with this, baby?” He asks, his hand slipping inside your top, brushing his fingers against your under boob.

“Say it, princess,” Jay urges you, his lips leaving featherlight kisses on your jaw, trailing down to your neck.

“Yes,” you say, letting the boys take over, your heart beating out of your chest as they helped you get on your bed, Heeseung being the first to make you gasp, his lips capturing yours in a fervent kiss, Jay using that time to get rid of your top, your back arching the second he took your tits in his mouth, the other hand fondling and paying attention to your other tit.

It felt like heaven. You would have never thought that any of them would even make such advancements, but having the two of them together was beyond your imagination, your whole body felt as if it was on fire.

“That’s it, baby. Be a good girl for us, let us please you, yeah? Our pretty birthday girl,” Jay says the second Heeseung leans back, his nose buried in your neck.

“So fucking pretty,” he whispers, coming down to slide your pants down, a whimper leaving your mouth at the sight of Jay removing his shirt, his pants coming off next. Your eyes widened for two reasons; one because Heeseung had fully immersed himself in eating you out, his pointy nose brushing against your clit. Second, Jay tapped your cheek, pushing his cock inside the warmth of your mouth, both boys groaning as they drowned in the pleasure of you.

You moaned around Jay’s length, especially when Heeseung’s tongue flicked your clit in the best way possible, “oh god,” you breathed out, lip bitten to conceal your moans. They continued their ministrations for a while, Jay joining Heeseung as he rubbed his thick fingers, pushing them inside your cunt, your walls clenching around them.

“That’s it our prettiest birthday girl, let go,” Heeseung coos, watching you shake as you fall apart on Jay’s fingers.

But they didn’t stop there, pumping their cocks, spreading your juices all over their length before Heeseung looked in your eyes, Jay positioning you on his lap, letting Heeseung enter your pussy first, your eyes watering at the stretch but it felt too good to even speak. Jay caressed your face, kissing the expanse of your skin to soothe out your nervousness.

Jay couldn’t hold back anymore, pushing his cock in your already stuffed cunt, this time Heeseung taking the initiative to kiss your lips as a distraction, letting Jay fill you in along with him. Soon, they both were groaning, praising you alongside for taking their cocks so well, the stimulation of their own cocks brushing against each other making them go crazier than usual, they had you right where they wanted you.

“Happy birthday, princess,” they both said the second you reached your state of euphoria, making sure you felt good through and through, emptying their cum inside you and you felt fuller than ever.

They both knew how overstimulated you felt, and they made sure to clean you up, showering you with kisses all over, you giggles only making them smile at you, the aftercare was everything you had wished for and more. But what made you feel even happier was how they both held you to sleep.

It was the best birthday gift ever indeed.

© jaylaxies | tumblr

[darlingdekarios]

hibernate.

rating: explicit. 18+ only. length: 6,152 content: Arthur Morgan x f!reader, animal hunting mentions, cannon-accurate outlaw behavior, cowboy meet cute, Arthur Morgan is a simp, snowed in, fluff, smut [v fingering, unprotected p in v, creampie, cockwarming], kink(s) [spit as lube]

it was like fate insisted on the two of you colliding.

The first time you’d met Arthur Morgan was a lovely March night in New Hanover, opportunities abound as the hustle and bustle of life was at its highest point of the year, the weather the most tolerable for moving about. Returning from an evening of fishing now that the water wasn’t frozen in some areas and sketching birds by the river when he stumbled across a lone figure boarding train – well after midnight. He followed on horseback under the cover of trees in anticipation, joined by your own horse shortly after. He followed alongside with a hold of the strange horse’s reins until the train came to a stop. 

He'd strained to hear you, considered boarding after you to clean up any straggling guards – it wasn’t his business, so he didn’t – but curiosity held him close. When the sound of police approaching quickly began you emerged to the top of the train, looking around desperately for your horse. Temporarily frozen when the moonlight caught your face and confirmed to the man that you were a woman, he recovered just in time to spring into action.

It had been Arthur who had led your horse to you and instructed you to follow. It was Arthur’s path that led you away from the law and eventually far enough away to be free of their hunting.

“Are you some kinda lunatic, lady?” he questioned when the two of you slowed side-by-side under the cover of thick trees, his face hard-set and stern. “You coulda gotten yourself tossed away for a long time back there.”

“I didn’t, though,” you laughed, and despite the feeling that burned in him that he couldn’t quite place as anger or worry Arthur’s stomach flipped at the sound and the way your laugh reached your eyes. You adjusted your hat with a playful smile on your lips, keeping the reins to your horse in one hand. 

“Thanks to me,” he asserted, the stress causing him to light up a cigarette and adjust his hat. His eyes caught your gaze and you held it, appreciating his handsome features for a moment as your smile twisted wider.

“I would’ve figured it out, cowboy – you can be sure of that.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I’ve seen your face on ‘wanted’ posters, Mr. Morgan,” you proclaimed, tone proud as you called him on his identity. He took another drag from his cigarette before leaning forward comfortably in his saddle, outstretching a hand toward you. 

“Arthur,” he offered, amusement flashing across his features when you shook his hand firmly. “And I’ve seen yours, too. What is it they call you…?”

“The Panther,” you replied, that proud tone ever-present in your voice. “A nice tribute to my best hunt.”

His poker face was too well-trained to reveal that he was impressed – that he was intrigued.

“Well next time you go thinkin’ of doing something so goddamn stupid like rob a train at midnight alone,” he began, gruff voice filled with frustration as he attempted to present his unamused façade. “You could invoke that particular nickname and be a little more subtle.”

The second time was just as circumstantial. It was July – the heat sweltering, the air sticky, the fireflies sparkling in fields at night. You’d been riding for days, hunting gators in the swamps for weeks and now headed back to a more familiar area where you felt more at home. Just past Emerald Ranch you’d spotted him on the road ahead – his hat unmistakable and burned into your mind, his horse giving away his identity to anyone who knew it. 

There was no questioning if he’d want your company – you didn’t even give it a thought. Instead, you’d hastened your own horse to catch up with him.

“Where ya headed, cowboy?” you questioned as you approached from behind, adjusting your hat back on your head to offer more of your face to him. Your voice immediately sent a shiver down his spine, the barely-there smile crossing his features unmissed by you.

Four months trying to remember your face and voice hadn’t done it any justice.

“Valentine,” he replied, slowing his horse’s stride to match yours. The two of you set a lazy pace, in no real hurry to get anywhere. “You following me now, cat?”

“Like I ain’t got better things to do, Mr. Morgan?” you joked, nose scrunching as you smiled. The Summer sun had done beautiful things for your color, he noted. “Give you $50 and shine your guns if you can beat me there.”

“Are you tryin’ to race me?” he questioned with a subtle laugh, raising an eyebrow in your direction.

“Won’t be much of a race, cowboy.”

He let out a real, genuine, albeit short laugh at that. The sound filled the air around you, made birds vacate trees. Your heart soared away alongside them.

“And what is it you want if you win?”

“A nice bottle of whisky,” you replied after a brief moment of thought, reaching your hand to rub your horse’s neck gently. Arthur had forgotten how gentle your hands were with everything they touched – the rediscovery lighting up his mind. “And a hot meal at your camp.”

“Can’t promise the gang’ll let you eat at camp without drinking, too.”

“Which is why I asked for a bottle of whisky,” you remarked, that shit-eating grin he was starting to love spreading on your face again. “Do we have a deal?”

“Hope your horse is fast enough to back up that mouth of yours,” he quipped back, intentionally antagonizing you as he started to pick up the speed slightly. “Or that you’ve got plenty of gun oil.”

You shot forward then, the dust of the road kicking up behind you as you left Arthur behind on a road you both knew well. In reality he could’ve caught you – could’ve even won if he’d pushed his horse hard enough – but the sound of your laughter in the cool evening air was reason enough to lose. 

It wasn’t a surprise when you crossed over into the town first.

“You cheated,” he argued as he approached, allowing his horse to slow to a reasonable speed for being around other people. “Got a head start. Doesn’t count.”

“You’re just a sore loser.”

“Maybe I am,” he replied, reaching up to remove his hat to resituate his wind-blown hair. You were momentarily transfixed on his fingers running through the strands that looked soft – maybe in need of a wash but soft nonetheless – but quickly wished he’d left it messy. “Weren’t mean you didn’t get a head start, cat.”

“Oh, like a couple steps mattered,” you entered an easy banter with him, just like the two of you had done in the Spring. He’d missed it – hadn’t realized how much he had until then. “Coulda given you a five-minute head start and still would’ve beat you and that slowpoke horse you ride.”

“Anybody ever tell you you’re difficult?” 

“Heard it a couple times,” there was that smile again – the nose crinkling one. He wasn’t sure how long he could keep his thoughts to himself with you smiling that way – at him. You jumped down from your stallion and hitched him with ease, feeding the massive animal a small snack in appreciation of his efforts. “I can compromise. I buy the whisky, but I still get a hot meal at your camp.”

He pondered your proposal only briefly before nodding, letting out an affirmative huff in agreeance. “I’ll meet you at the butcher when you’re done.”

You gave your horse a gentle pat and nodded, turning back to meet his gaze. “Sell that fox pelt I have up on Scratch, will ya?”

Easy. Simple. Honest. Sensible. Arthur loved having you around camp that night – and the night after when you’d been convinced to stay again by the women – though it was hardly just them that enjoyed your company. You’d made easy companions in the camp with your sharp tongue and ability to hold your alcohol. You had plenty of stories to share with Arthur’s chosen family – each one of them genuinely interesting to the gang.

Everyone knew the fact Arthur had brought you around meant you were a good person. The beauty was a bonus, he’d been informed in privacy. He’d only told Sean to shut his mouth in response. Arthur slept by the fire that night so you could sleep in his cot, and if anyone else in the gang saw the way he’d sat up for at least an hour with his eyes transfixed on your sleeping figure in his bed. 

It was Fall, October to be exact, the next time he heard from you – this time you had taken fate into your own hands to seek out his company. He was certain he’d never be able to dispose the letter you’d penned and sent to his camp.

Dear Arthur, Kinda strange to call you “dear”, huh?  Anyway, I have a job comin’ up in Saint Denis that involves me boarding a train quite late at night and remembering our conversation earlier this year I thought I may ask you to join.  Job is planned for the night of October 18, the Saturday after next. I’ll meet you the Friday before at the saloon in Van Horn if you plan on joining me.  I do hope you join me.  Hope that gang of yours isn’t being too rough on you. 

He arrived in Van Horn a day early and rented himself a room – and a bath – so he was prepared for the meeting. He was in the saloon before you, his chest clenching as you walked in through the swinging doors. 

You’d taken a page from his book and clearly bathed recently as well, and you were dressed for the first time in front of him in feminine attire. The sight of you in a skirt shouldn’t have affected him the way it did – it was embarrassing for a man his age. It didn’t prevent the pressure building at his waist, nor did it stop him from speaking his mind.

“You had to wear that damn skirt, didn’t ya?” he questioned when you joined him, a smile spreading across your face. It was hardly a gentlemanly way to greet you, but then again, he was hardly a gentleman. “Knew what you were doin’ puttin’ that on with me coming in today…”

“You complained so much about the pants last time I figured I’d save myself the headache,” you replied, sliding into a chair next to him and crossing your legs for emphasis. “You don’t like it?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, kitten,” he’d practically purred – a new tone between the two of you. There was no denying that you wanted to hear it more, and you nearly chose to forget the real reason you were now sitting beside him. 

“I need to look the part tomorrow for the job,” you replied quickly, eager to squash the tension now building between the two of you, unwilling to allow the job to go forgotten. There was too much money at stake. “Have to board a real nice train when it leaves out of Saint Denis tomorrow night. There’s a safe onboard I’d like to get my hands into.”

“Can’t just rob it the old-fashioned way?”

“Someone didn’t like the last time I did that,” you teased, feeling pleased with the smile it earned. “Figured I’d board and crack the safe.”

“Why you need me then?”

“Need someone to play my husband and keep watch while I’m workin’ on the safe.”

“Your husband,” he huffed out with another laugh, a brief shake to his head. The term had always been silly to him, just as silly as the idea of marriage was to you as a whole, really – and yet, there was no denying the clench in both of your chests at the mere thought. The imaginary suggestion manifested in brief images of domesticity, the vision of you sleeping in his cot in July flashing in his mind. 

You didn’t miss the slight redness to his cheeks, he didn’t miss how your smile fluttered into something laced with affection. For all your joking demeanor, it was still clear that there was some secretive sincerity beneath the surface – that you cared for Arthur. And on Arthur’s part, well…he wouldn’t ride across the country to work for just anyone.

“Yes,” you replied when you’d pulled yourself from the depths of his eyes. “A woman travelling with her husband is far less likely to draw attention than if I were alone.”

You thought there would be some protest, though if you’d seen even a fraction of the thoughts Arthur had conjured up in the preceding months you’d never have to question it. To you what seemed to be him conceding was actually the outlaw taking a step he’d long considered taking with you the next chance he got. 

Arthur just wanted to spend time with you – there were probably very few things he’d say no to right now in regard to you. He wouldn’t go admitting that out loud anytime soon either. 

“Fine, I’ll go along with your little plan. Only so you don’t go gettin’ yourself arrested.”

“Great!” you exclaimed, the brightness that covered your face blinding but serving as confirmation that he was making the right choice. The money he was sure to get would be a bonus, too. “I got you a wedding ring. Looks like it’ll fit. You can sell it when the job’s done, as a thank you.”

“You get it off a dead body?”

“He didn’t need it anymore.”

There was that goddamn feeling in his chest again. 

This was the fourth time destiny had crossed your path with Arthur Morgan’s. 

Now, the ring still lay in the outside pouch of his satchel, the cool metal brushing against the tips of his calloused fingers often daily in a physical reminder of you. Today, feeling the pull of being apart from you for four months now and into the new year, he’d been clutching the metal in his gloved hands as he led his horse through the far North. Seeking the solitary bliss of being alone in the mountains for the winter, he had opted to simply ride and camp, sketching in his journal and enjoying the snow dusted scenery. Arthur’s plan was soon thwarted as a snowstorm began to roll in.

He'd been riding along the same worn path to make his way down the mountain when he noticed horse tracks leading into the thick forest – a horse, by the look of it, with no reemergence to be seen. Opting to do the honorable thing, Arthur pursued the trail, weaving through trees atop his own horse until he came to a small clearing where you were setting predator bait.

He didn’t know the kind of words to describe the way he felt seeing you right in front of him.

“Are you some kinda lunatic, cat?” 

If he had a way with words, he’d tell you that your smile was brighter than the sun itself – fleeting shooting stars, the North Star when he’s lost. 

“That’s not the first time you’ve asked me that question, Mister Morgan,” you replied, standing up and patting your horse as your gaze remained transfixed on him now. Even at this distance you could see the blue in his coat had electrified his eyes, the tone a perfect match for the world around you. You found it hard to form any further rebuttal. 

“Won’t be the last either, given you’re doing something fucking crazy every time I see you,” he teased, finally giving into the natural ease he felt with you. The light air between the two of you had finally lulled him into a sense of comfort around you – he was willing to admit he was concerned, in his own way. “There’s a storm rollin’ in. You trying to freeze to death?”

“Trying to hunt a white wolf,” you replied, glancing back at the bait you’d just set and adjusting the bow you held in your hands, an arrow already grasped between two fingers. 

Fuckin’ hell, Arthur thought. ‘Course that’s what you’re out here doing.

“You ain’t gonna be hunting much of anything when you turn into an icicle,” he replied, hopeful that you would understand his taunting was coming from a place of concern – not control. “You got Scratch nearby?”

“I suppose you’re right,” you smiled, slipping the arrow back into the quiver on your back and whistling to call your horse back to you. You mounted up on the animal easily, Arthur taking the moment to appreciate how languid your movements were – how graceful. His eyes lingered at your waist for a moment longer than was decent.

“If I remember right there’s a cabin just up the road. Been empty the last few times I rode by,” he explained, his words offering more than just a place to shield from the freeze. 

Arthur wanted to spend time with you. You’d truly have to be a lunatic to think otherwise.

“Lead the way, cowboy.”

The snow picked up as the two of you rode side-by-side, both of your horses slowing as the powder piled up, creating heavier footsteps. While Arthur spoke to his horse beside you to soothe her through the storm, you could feel his eyes consistently on you despite the painful whip of flakes against his unshielded cheeks.

What could have been a short ride in the summer extended in the weather, and by the time the cabin approached view you had begun to shiver – something Arthur took note of. When he climbed from his horse he unrolled the blanket on the back of his saddle, passing it up to you before grabbing his shotgun. 

“I’ll check inside, you try not to shiver s’much you fall off your horse.”

He disappeared into the cabin, your mind focusing on the sounds of him moving about rather the piling snow that was sure to trap you for days. Keeping yourself wrapped in his blanket provided the additional comfort of his lingering scent, and you found yourself clutching the fabric tighter and tighter as the moments passed.

“This’ll be fine ‘til the storm’s passed,” he announced as he exited through the doors, voice raised so you could hear him over the wind. “You go on in while I get some firewood and hitch the horses.”

“I can help, you know,” you offered, eyebrows pulling together to communicate your frustration. 

“Would you stop your arguing for once and go inside out of this shit?”

By the time Arthur made his way in from the storm you’d used what wood remained in the cabin to start a fire, the flames warming the air around it quickly. The mattress was considerably dirty and out of the question, so you were validated in the decision to carry in your bedrolls and blankets, having set them up comfortably in front of the fire. 

His heavy boots sounded on the floor as he approached where you sat on the floor from behind, and while you couldn’t see him, you could feel his eyes on you. 

“Already got a fire going?”

“Uh huh,” you replied, noting the subtle shake to his voice. Arthur was strong, but he was human, and he was cold. The fact that he not only was willing to but insisted on suffering for you caused a knot to form in your stomach. “Got some whisky if you need help warming up.”

He simply grunted affirmatively in reply, setting the stack of wood carefully to the side and picking out the driest pieces to tend the fire with now. You tempted to hand the bottle out to him, the liquid going ignored as he began to peel off layer by layer, tossing the soaked clothing to the side lazily with little regard for how they ended up. Normally you’d have stood to hang the clothes, but you found yourself spellbound by the way Arthur’s muscles flexed with each movement under the simple wet damp button up shirt – the last remaining layer.

When he was somewhat comfortable, he turned to face you, eyes flashing with amusement as he took the bottle from your fingers. You were certain your mouth was hanging open and he’d caught you. At the moment, you could hardly bring yourself to care.

Hours passed as the two of you got warm and caught up over the last few weeks. You sat opposite one another, both wrapped in your own blankets and full of enough whisky to ignore the storm outside – to ignore everything but one another. Arthur hadn’t missed that most of your clothes lie neatly folded atop the countertop. The thought was repeating in his mind – the heavy question of what exactly remained under the blanket haunting him. 

He couldn’t be blamed for not being a good listener. 

“Arthur, are you even listenin’ to me?”

“Not a fuckin’ word,” he replied with one more small swig of whisky from the bottle, setting it well out of the way to the side. “Stop fuckin’ doin’ that if you want me to listen.”

“Doing what?”

You knew damn well what.

“Lookin’ at me like you want me to come crawl on top of you.”

Why on Earth would you ever stop doing that? 

“No.”

Your mouth was going to drive him to insanity one day. He wasn’t going to do a single thing about it.

“Did you just tell me ‘No’?” 

“Yeah, Arthur, I surely did,” you replied, quick and agile as you were on your feet. He was beginning to think you may only talk to hm this way, and that thought alone was enough to make him want to reach out to you. “Hoping you take the hint.”

The blanket he’d been using for himself was discarded to the side, your words finally snapping the thin thread of control that remained in him. He extended one arm outward toward the floor to support himself, outstretching his legs to be situated in a more comfortable position before his eyes found yours again. 

“Come on over here,” his invitation came thick as molasses and dripping just as sweet, his free hand patting his right thigh to give his words deeper meaning. “Bring the blanket.”

Arthur had finally figured out how to get you to stop arguing and basked in the glory of the moment as you crawled to him carefully, finding a comfortable seat in his lap as you straddled his thighs. He savored the view as you wrapped your arms around his neck, encompassing you both with the blanket, your face illuminated by the golden glow of the well-tended fire – beautiful, warm, inviting. 

He was more than happy to finally accept. 

“Are you gonna kiss me, Arthur?”

He knew you were trying to sound resolute as you always did – firm and demanding and impossible to deny. While those things lingered – he doubted they could ever truly be gone from you – what really laced your words was the quietest of whines. He sat up fully, bringing his torso closer to yours and grasping your hips in both hands, all the while your heart beating faster and faster in anticipation.

When you opened your mouth to let your protest be known again, he took his opportunity to claim your lips in a long-awaited kiss, the feeling of his lips caressing yours sucking the air from your chest immediately. He opted to slide his hands to your lower back to bring you in closer, pressing your chests together as he kissed you hungrily. Touch starved and overwhelmed by the feeling of you returning his kiss with soft lips he sought more of your skin, sliding his hands up the back of the loose blouse you remained in. 

“Clothes are still wet,” he grumbled against your lips, displeased by the cool touch to your skin that remained. You scrambled to reinitiate the kiss, your lips catching his bottom lip as a whine slipped through your lips. A quiet chuckle rumbled through his chest as he nuzzled your cheek with his nose. 

“Take them off, then,” you breathed out, bowing your head to press a delicate kiss to his neck. His own breath caught, arms wrapping tighter around you – almost too tight, almost too crushing. You made no move to stop him as you began to test the best places to leave your kisses, spurring him to release his hold on you to start peeling the last layers from both of you. 

Your lips brushed against the shell of his ear when all that remained were intimate coverings, a shaky groan rolling through his chest. His hands engulfed you, sliding up your torso until he cupped your breasts, dipping his head to claim your lips again. 

That kiss was hungry – starved – clumsy in ways that screamed of desperation. His thumbs rubbed over your nipples lightly, a smile evident on his lips despite the fact he continued to kiss you as a moan slipped from your throat. It spiraled from there, both of your hands exploring, your fingers the best thing he’d felt against his skin in a long time. As the pressure built heavier at your waist his hands trailed lower, one stopping to grasp your waist, the other slipping into the waistband of your underwear. 

He'd never heard music that sounded as good as the sound of the moan that left you as his thick fingers swiped through your wet folds, an appreciative hum shaking in his throat as you burrowed your face in his neck. 

“You’re already soaked for me, darlin’,” he rasped, his voice getting lower and lower with each word. He began to sink his index finger into you, grasping your hip tighter in his other hand. “Fuckin’ tight, too. Hell.”

“Arthur…”

“Aw, hush,” he cooed, turning his head to press a kiss to your temple as he curled his finger inside you, pulling a quiet whimper from you. “No point tryin’ to talk right now, darlin’ – just lemme take care of ya.”

He could take his sweet time, Arthur Morgan. He was a patient man, especially when it came to you, and never more-so than now as he began to work his finger in and out of your clenching heat. He added a second finger soon, pressing the heel of his hand to your clit to give you more pressure, which you gladly accepted by rocking your hips into it. 

As he pumped his fingers into you he began to trail kisses lower, the kisses growing heavier and wetter the further down he went. By the time he nipped at your hip with his teeth lightly you were breathless, eyes squeezed shut as you lost yourself to pleasure. He kissed across your waistline as he pulled your underwear down, smiling against your skin lightly when you kicked them free with frustrated fervor. 

Nothing up to this point compared to the feeling of Arthur sliding his tongue from his fingers to your clit, giving the sensitive bundle of nerves a soft suck. He repeated the motion as you struggled to even moan, your hands grasping at the blankets now on the floor beneath you as you tried to rock your hips into his face desperately.

“Easy, now,” Arthur reprimanded with quiet reverence behind his words, turning his head to press a kiss to your inner thigh softly. “I’m takin’ my time with you, don’t rush me.”

You finally opened your eyes, ready to give him an earful about being a tease, only to be frozen once again faced with the sight of Arthur, golden illuminated by the fire and somehow still wearing his hat tipped back on his head. You maintained eye contact with him as you reached forward with your hands, removing the hat with one hand and placing it on your own head as your fingers ran through his hair, giving a soft tug at the end. 

The growl vibrated through him and you as he connected his lips to your clit, pumping his fingers into you and connecting the tips, curling them skillfully to rub against the sensitive patch deep within you as he sucked your clit. All the while he maintained eye contact, even when he removed his mouth from you with one final flick of his tongue, just as he removed his fingers from you. 

“Arthur…” you whimpered in protest, tugging his hair again to try to bring him back to your needy core.

“Hush,” he instructed tenderly, slipping his hands under your ass and grasping firmly to lift your waist from the floor. He soaked in the view of your glistening folds at this angle and tested how it looked to watch one of his fingers slip into you before removing it, licking his lips again. “You are a pretty little thing, ain’t ya?”

Your reply was sucked from your chest and altered into a cry of pleasure as he spit on your folds, smearing the liquid around before connecting his thumb to your clit, rubbing a figure eight. Supporting your raised hips still with one hand he continued to rub your clit, now using his tongue to fuck into you rather than his fingers, tasting you how he’d wanted to for nearly a year now.

The pressure continued to build and boil, eventually reaching a point of eruption – all the usual signs there with your shaking thighs, shorter and desperate breaths, your nails scratching against his temple as you gripped whatever you could. Arthur figured it was a previously unknown bonus to him keeping his hair a little on the longer side. He groaned to encourage you, switching his movements to pump his fingers into you again, circling your clit with his tongue until you became incendiary, your first orgasm washing through you with white hot heat.

He continued to lap at your folds as you came, removing his tongue from you occasionally only to kiss your thighs and mutter tender praises as you came back down to your body. When you had some sense about yourself, he was crawling back up you, pressing kisses to your stomach and breasts before he reached your lips, offering you a taste of your own honey sweet pleasure on his tongue.

When the adoration filled amorous kiss ended so Arthur could breathe you began to trail kisses down his neck again, following a trail to his chest before his index finger caught under your chin, lifting you back up to him, cerulean eyes questioning.

“Your turn,” you offered, slipping one of your hands into the waistband of his underwear and wrapping your fingers around his throbbing cock slowly. Running your finger over the velvet head you smeared the pre-spend leaking already, biting at your swollen bottom lip when he moaned. 

“Not tonight, sweet thing,” he declined, his hesitation clear in his voice. You began to rub him gently – slowly – too damn slow – causing his eyes to roll back briefly. “You wrap these lips around me, and I won’t last long enough t’ fuck you.”

“Please.”

You didn’t truly know what you were begging for – for him to test himself and allow you to take his already throbbing cock into your mouth or for him to follow through on that promise to fuck you. Luckily, Arthur seemed to know exactly what your words were asking for – what you needed. 

He reached to remove your hand from his cock gently, freeing himself of his underwear before he gently moved you to your side, lying beside you with his back to the fire to shield you from getting too much heat, to ensure you didn’t get hurt. One arm wrapped around your waist while the other slid to cup your cheek in his hand, bringing you in closer to him as he kissed you again. 

As much fun as he’d been having teasing, he was done with the games now, and could no longer find the patience. He reached to lift your leg around his waist before grasping his cock, rubbing against your still-soaked entrance for a moment to gather some lubrication before he sank into you. Inch by inch disappeared into your velvet channel, the kiss practically halting as you gasped. He leaned his forehead against yours instead, grasping your waist gently as he continued to slip into you.

“Atta fuckin’ girl,” he breathed out. The large hand that still cupped your cheek slipped downward to rest against your neck instead, his fingertips digging into your skin in attempt to steady himself, to savor your pulse beneath his touch. “Takin’ me so good. You doin’ okay?”

You nodded as you stared into his eyes, pupils blown wide and mouth hanging open already at the feeling of him stretching you, almost too full but not something you’d be willing to give up anytime soon. When he’d fully seated himself within you, his cock buried to the hilt he released a shaky groan of his own, his eyes briefly closing as he savored the feeling of being wrapped up in you.

“Goddamn you’re tight,” he groaned out, pressing several light kisses to your lips before grinding his hips into yours slightly. “Shoulda crawled ‘tween your legs months ago.”

“Would…ah…woulda let you,” you managed to reply, pressing your lips to his in an unabashedly salacious kiss, already perfecting how to slot your lips against his in a way that left him craving more. He couldn’t hold back his movements any longer and began to pump into you repeatedly, setting a wanton and quick pace that somehow managed to remain tender and reverent.

He could only be tender for so long, desperation and months of waiting and yearning building in him. His movements began to get sloppy sooner than he’d have liked, though he felt better when your walls began to flutter and clench around him, your thigh shaking around his hip slightly. He picked up his pace to a much more relentless one, driving his cock into you and into your spongy cervix repeatedly as his grunts became more frequent, pressing kisses to your neck now.

“Want you to finish while I’m inside you,” he instructed, though there was something so subtly desperate behind his words – a quiet beg that only someone who knew him would recognize. “Think you can do that for me, darlin’?”

You nodded before leaning your head back again, quiet cries leaving your lips as he connected his thumb to your clit again, immediately choosing a relentless pace to rub in circles. You were almost certain you’d do anything he asked and soon enough you were pushed over the edge again, your walls clenching him so tight he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to remove himself. He did his best to continue pumping into you roughly now as he sought his own release, certain you wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow. Like you’d need to, anyway. 

“F-fill me up, Arthur,” you begged unexpectedly through your euphoria, and he didn’t need anything else to convince him. With only a few more bruising thrusts he stilled inside you as he emptied his seed in hot ropes into you, groaning loudly as he lazily leaned his forehead to yours again, his own eyes screwed shut.

He didn’t remove himself from you when you’d both ridden your orgasms, instead holding you close and reaching to cover the two of you in one of the blankets that was on the floor. He wrapped his arms around you tightly to hold you closer to him, slipping one of his legs between yours for additional comfort and warmth. Still semi-hard with plenty of stamina to offer you couldn’t ignore the feeling of him seated in you still, buried as deep as possible as he brushed his nose against yours. 

“Be a whole lot warmer this way,” he offered, giving a subtle move of his hips to emphasize the meaning behind his words. He pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose before reaching upward to kiss your forehead, leaving his lips resting there. He was right – you did finally feel warm.

“Mm,” was all you could reply, laying your head against his shoulders and closing your eyes, burrowing your face into his neck. He smiled as you managed to press lazy kisses into his neck before wrapping your arms around him as well. 

“Think I’ll keep you here all winter,” he offered after several blissful moments, his head leaning to rest on the top of yours as his own eyes closed. He pressed one final kiss to your temple before succumbing to the comfort of you fully.

“Always knew you were a big teddy bear, Arthur,” you teased. How you managed to run your mouth still after he’d fucked you right was beyond him – but it was also probably a reason he’d want to keep fucking you.

“We’ll call it hibernation, then.”

masterlist. red dead redemption masterlist.

[st4rfckerz]

i’ve been thinking about this tooo much.

MDNI 18+

The tall glass building loomed in front of you, reflecting the sunlight in a shimmering display of modern architecture. You grab Sam's hand, feeling the callouses on his fingers as you ascend the steps towards the entrance. The automatic doors slide open, revealing a sleek lobby lined with marble floors and contemporary art installations.

"So this is where your old man works, huh?" Sam glances around the lavish lobby, looking up at the high ceiling, his gaze occasionally catching sight of the impressive artwork adorning the walls. You nod, leading him towards the elevator bank. "Yeah, he’s worked here since I was a baby. They're usually pretty cool about me bringing people in. Just don't touch anything too expensive, alright?" You smirk, trying to lighten the mood before stepping into the elevator, pushing the button for the floor where your dad's office is located.

As the elevator doors slide shut behind you both, sealing you inside the small metallic box, Sam’s hand creeps up, brushing your ass gently.

“Sam, no.” you drag your words, warning Sam to not go any further. The warmth of his touch sends a shiver down your spine, and you find yourself leaning into him even more. "Come on, you scared?" he whispers softly, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your skin. The closeness between you two intensifies, making it difficult to concentrate on anything other than the rising tension. Sam tries to plant a kiss to your lips but you turn your head and push him away, laughing at his sudden neediness.

“No quit it! Not here-” You turn your head away again just to have Sam grab your jaw to make you face him again. His lips press firmly against yours, the urgency of his kiss leaving no room for doubt. As he pulls you closer, your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, holding onto him tightly. His lean body supports yours effortlessly, enveloped by the confined space of the elevator. The faint sound of the creaky gears echo in the background, reminding you of the steady ascent to your father's office, but all you can think about is the man whose tongue now caresses yours.

His hands trace down your back, finding purchase on your hips, pulling you closer still. The passion and desperation in his kiss leave you weak in the knees, making it hard to catch your breath. Sam’s hand glides down your waist, slowly making its way under the hem of your pants. His fingers finally slip beneath your underwear, feeling the damp fabric against your arousal. A satisfied smile spreads across his face, and he lets out a low growl, the vibrations of which you feel all over. "Too easy," he murmurs, his voice husky with desire. “I’ll be quick, I promise.”

Sam’s fingers slide easily inside you, his thumb rubbing your clit in circular motions, adding to the already intense sensations. “F-fuck Sam…” Your eyes flutter, reacting to his skilled touch as your body responds eagerly. The elevator inches towards your floor, but at this moment, it feels like time stands still.

"Shhh, baby, let it happen," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear. His words serve as permission, and soon enough, your body trembles as an orgasm courses through you. Sam holds you tighter, letting you ride out the most unexpected and exhilarating climax inside the elevator.

Finally, the elevator comes to a halt, the familiar ding breaking the spell of intimate pleasure. As the doors open, Sam releases you and sticks his fingers in his mouth, his face plastered with cockiness and pride knowing he just took you to new heights.

[yanderenightmare]

Can we get one of my man geto 🫢 just him getting turned on by seeing the way he makes you cry.

Geto Suguru

TW: yandere, dubcon/noncon, punishment, Geto using the word monkey, reader has no cursed energy

gn reader

He unleashes gross curses on you every now and again when you get bratty with him. Harmless but effective – the ones that swallow up half your body and make you scream for him to help you. 

He sits peacefully, elbows on his knees with his head resting in his palm – one eye closed and the other observing you in amusement with a tiny smirk playing on his lips – watching you squirm.

Your whiney whimpers make him chuckle as he lazily gets up. Letting it get to your throat before leisurely lifting a large hand, exorcising it with a single simple swipe.

It disperses without a fight and you stumble to the floor trembling, breaths chocked and eyes wild while he crouches down to your level, cradling you as you shiver with hitched sobs – still feeling hundreds of wet tongues and curious fingers fondling every inch of your body, ears ringing with the distorted lustful utterings of all the things the filthy curse was planning on doing to you.

“Gonna behave for me now, monkey?” He questions softly, his smirk having relaxed into a gentle smile as he tucked a loose lock of hair behind your ear – seemingly affectionately.

But there’s no doubt he has zero respect for you, you think, remaining silent while looking up into those slitted eyes of his – feeling like a mouse being toyed with by a cat, lying wounded in its claws.

He lays his warm palm against your cheek, and you flinch with a sharp intake – offering but small whimpers as he holds your face and those big peeled eyes that look up at him in pure terrified dread. Only returning your cowering with a soft-spoken threat. “It’s either me or more monsters.” 

“No-” You gulp, urgently clutching the drapey sleeve of his yukata. “I’ll behave- I promise- I’m sorry- please… no more monsters.” You cry against his chest, muffled with tears while burying your face, yet still coherent enough to make him gently pat your head in response.

“Alright then.” He hums soothingly, pleased – his smile only widening when scooping your legs up, lifting you from the floor, and carrying you back all those confusing hallways you’d just run down. His steps – unbothered and slow – are satisfied in a sense as he holds you to his chest, returning you to his room, where he sets you down on the bed like before.

You sink down in it, your face damp from the tears. Raw and still choking back sniffles, your lips quiver in comprehension as he curls a finger beneath your chin and lifts your head to receive his lips.

He gives you tongue, and you accept it with a weak moan, dropping your back against the duvet in defeat while feeling him crawl over you. Bed creaking under the weight and sending shivers through you.

His hand, big and warm, brushes over your thigh, lifting your tattered nightshirt on his way to rub circles into your midriff with his lips still caught on yours, licking at the sweet salt of freshly fallen tears slipping down your cheeks – groaning at the taste.

He undoes the knots to his layers and lets it all slip to the floor unceremoniously, revealing pale muscles before he bears back down against you – mouth open and clashing against yours with a hungry growl. 

His lips soon slip from yours down your neck, nibbling on your collar before leaving suckling kisses on your chest, and you’re reminded of the offending mouths who'd been licking your skin only a while ago – feeling his hand knead the flesh of your thighs, exploring the space between them, quite like the horny digits who'd earlier been exploring you just the same…

And you’re left to wonder if there’s really any difference at all.

[liliacamethyst]

Playtime with Miguel O'Hara

Miguel O'Hara x SpiderSun Reader

summary: Miguel begging you to cum. That's it. That's the plot.

warnings: dom/sub, edging, blowjob, smut, 18+ content

a/n: Hey everyone, apologies for my recent absence, I've been buried in exam prep. But don't worry, the 4th part of the web series is on its way soon! In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this little story I've had tucked away in my drafts. Remember to look after yourselves and I'll be back before you know it with even more requests and Miguel fics. Love you all and don't forget to stay hydrated!

“Care to play a game?” you ask, as you take steps closer to him. You can see his pride wrestling with his intrigue. “What’s the game?” he asks. You smile wide at him and without warning, you shoot a string of web that wraps around him.

“Simple,” you say, “You have to stay still while I…” you lean in and plant a soft kiss on his cheek, then his jawline down to his throat. His eyes widen.

Miguel tries to hide his delight. “Is that all?” he feigns nonchalance.

“Oh no,” you tease, “there’s more.” You lean in again and brush your lips against his, only to pull away at the last second. The tension between you both is electric.

You wrap more webbing around him, leaving him barely able to move. “Aren’t you going to ask nicely to be set free?” you ask with a smirk.

His pride is legendary, but so is his wit. “No. Yo no ruego." (I don't beg.)"he retorts. He squirms lightly but his face is stoic as ever.

You lean in, your lips a breath away from his, and whisper, “We'll see about that.”

With a flicker in your eyes, you suddenly whip out a sharp nail file and make a quick, precise cut on the crotch of Miguel's suit, freeing his big member. The blue fabric splits apart, revealing his already hard cock.

 You gently glide your finger down the exposed area, and then look up at him with an innocent smile. Despite the unexpected action, Miguel remains unfazed, the moonlight reflecting in his eyes. “ You just had to ask, mi amor" he quips, his voice laced with humor.

A chuckle escapes your lips. "I'm just checking for hidden weapons, Spider. You never know with you." You kneel down, looking up at him with a mischievous smile.

You delicately trail your tongue up and down his length, punctuating your actions with playful, kittenish licks on his leaking tip. When you decide that you've teased him enough, you take his entire manhood into your mouth, your cheeks hollowing.

You can sense his intense, half-lidded gaze on you, accompanied by a soft growl escaping his lips.

He looks down at you, his chest heaving, sweat dripping off his brow.

With every head bob, he grunts louder, his teeth gritted and sweat dripping down his face.

“Mierda, mi sol. I’m close.” You could tell, his balls are tightening in your hand and his moans are growing louder, that was always his tell. But then without a warning and with one final plop you release him from your mouth. 

His eyes shoot open, the intense concentration breaking momentarily for a glare. “What the hell. What do you think you’re doing, Sunny?” his voice is strained, he thrusts his hips forward to get even a tiny bit of friction. Meanwhile, you are already gracefully risen to your feet and slowly lean closer, your breath grazing his ear. "Beg for it," you whisper. Miguel appears perplexed for a fleeting moment, stuttering, “I... I...”

Then, gathering himself, his voice becomes firm as he declares, “I do not beg.”

You grab his balls gently with one hand, while with the other, you tenderly and painfully slowly trace your fingers down his length. In response, a deep, primal growl escapes his throat.

With a raised eyebrow and a faint, teasing smirk, you inquire, "Huh? What was that?"

He seems to be in an internal struggle, trying desperately to retain control. His voice comes out as a soft whisper, “Please, let me cum.”

But your playful side is not quite satisfied. You continue your feathery caresses near his overstimulated tip, replying, “I didn’t quite catch that.”

He makes an attempt to jerk his hips forward, but you assertively tighten your hold. A resigned look crosses his face before he finally capitulates. “Alright, you fucking win. Please, mi sol, please make me cum?” 

At this, you offer a wink of approval and once again take your place kneeling in front of him. “Now was that so hard, Spider-boy?”

[augustinewrites]

cw: suggestive content, fem!reader

“come for a stroll with me.”

“i can’t right now,” wriothesley tells you, glaring down at the mess of papers atop his desk.

it was not in your nature to be petulant, but the over dramatic sigh that falls from your lips has him believing otherwise. 

though he wanted nothing more than to abandon the day's duties and join you on the surface for an afternoon stroll, the lord of the fortress of meropide was a very busy man. he had a prison to run.

“fine,” you say, though your exasperated tone indicates that his refusal was anything but.

“you’re the head doctor,” he reminds you, gesturing to the stacks of paper on his desk. “you know how it is.” 

“actually i don’t, because i don’t do all my work at the last minute.” 

“you have sigewinne, who does more than half of it for you.” 

“sigewinne likes paperwork,” you argue, settling yourself atop the corner of his desk. “you could have a whole team of people to help you with these things, but you’re too picky to let them.”

“they don’t do it right,” he huffs, pen scratching a quick signature across the bottom of the topmost report before shuffling it aside. “i know this place better than any accountant whose only concern is balancing a book.”

“fair enough,” you shrug, picking up and thumbing through his reviewed missives with about as much interest as one watching paint dry. he looks down just as a sneaky smile appears on your lips. “i heard it’s quite nice outside.”

“too warm,” he mutters distractedly, too lost in the process of estate management to chit-chat about the weather. 

“perhaps i should shed a few layers before heading out,” you hum thoughtfully, fanning yourself lightly with his papers. 

wriothesley looks up, about to scold you, but the words dry up before they pass the tip of his tongue. 

you certainly hadn’t outfitted yourself as a future duchess might, forgoing a frilly, structured gown for one of his own loose white button downs that’s tucked into closely tailored trousers. 

it’s with great intrigue that he watched your free hand undo the top two buttons of your (his) shirt, revealing the delicate swatch of skin over your neck and teasing him with a peak at your cleavage. 

you catch him staring as you set his papers down, eyes flashing with delight. like a predator that’s successfully cornered its prey. wriothesley - in a last ditch escape attempt - quickly looks away, clearing his throat and staring hard at the report in front of him. 

he could not get distracted today. not with so much work to do. 

but you, oh you. you hop off his desk, walking around it to drape your arms around his shoulders, pressing a light kiss to his cheek. “i suppose i’ll see you later then.”

he mumbles a reluctant goodbye but your lips linger, brushing dangerously close to that sweet spot behind his ear. 

do not give in, his brain instructs, even though it’s getting harder and harder to process the words in front of him with every slide of your hands. 

schooling his features into a calm mask, wriothesley draws a deep, steadying breath. it hardly manages to settle him because archons, you were going to be the death of him. he’s always considered himself a steadfast person with an immense focus that’d been built up from a young age. when he set his mind to a task, he was a difficult man to distract.

you and your wiles have always been proof of otherwise.

“just be back before our audience with neuvillette this afternoon.” he tells you, doing his best to ignore the heat rising to his face. 

finance reviews, surveillance reports, correspondence. finance reviews, surveillance reports, correspondence. finance reviews, surveillance reports, cor–

“stop it,” he demands when your fingertips glide across his chest, fiddling with the knot of his tie. 

“why?” you ask, voice cloyingly innocent. “am i distracting you, your grace?”

“no.”

you clearly do not believe him in the slightest. 

“care for a wager then? because i bet i can distract you by the end of the day.”

wriothesley knows that betting, wagering, or gambling against a former member of the house of the hearth is never a good idea. it’s a dangerous one.

he leans back, arms crossed over his chest as he attempts to salvage what’s left of his dignity. “what are the stakes?”

_____

you know your boyfriend. it isn’t hard for you to wind him up and get him right where you want. 

which was on top of you. 

or underneath you. it depends on the day.

there were no real intricacies in seducing the mighty and fearsome duke. it wasn’t even that hard to fluster him, because a simple brush of your fingers against his was enough to make his cheeks flush with colour.

you just needed to draw him out a little. you’re on the offense, and you know all the right moves required to force him to engage with you.

in an effort to avoid you and (attempt to) win the bet, wriothesley had locked himself in his office for most of the day. it worked out well for you, because you’d been able to sneak into his quarters holding a shopping bag from chioriya boutique.

your plan is put into motion when you hear the duke stomp up the stairs to get ready for the meeting with neuvillette. 

“get back behind that screen,” he instructs when you poke your head out from behind the divider. he’s even slapped a hand over his eyes, intent on staying focused on the task at hand.

wriothesley huffs when you laugh, turning his back to you as he rummages through the dresser. 

he’s murmuring the little rhyme he uses to knot his tie, so focused on the task that he doesn’t notice the crinkling of the tissue paper as you pull your new…outfit out of its bag.

“hey,” he asks. “are you almost ready?”

“i just need you to lace me up,” you call back, shrugging the shoulders of your gown down a touch before stepping out from behind the divider.

you turn to show him the undone laces of your gown, watching his reflection in the mirror. he’s regaled in the fineries of the duke, having swapped out his shirt for a clean black one and fastened a fine fur coat over his shoulders. you appreciate his appearance greatly, but even more so when he finds your little surprise.

“is this…new?” he asks quietly, gloved fingers brushing undone laces aside to get a better look at what hides underneath your dress. 

it was new. a custom set, in fact. your duke likes you in dark lace and sculpted pieces. 

he inhales sharply when you take his wrist, gently guiding his hand to one of the slits in the side of your skirt. 

wriothesley breathes your name softly when his hand drifts up your dress and settles on your hip, meeting nothing but skin. 

a smug, satisfied grin threatens to break out on your face when you feel his lips brush against your shoulder. you had him on the ropes now. he’s just so easy–

his sweet movements cease suddenly and he pushes you away gently. 

“you almost got me,” he laughs, quickly removing his hands from underneath your dress. he grips the laces, deft fingers making quick work doing it up and pulling it taut and tight to hide the tempting lace of your brassiere. 

“but–”

“go put your underwear back on,” he demands, delivering a firm smack to your rear. 

defeated but not the slightest bit deterred, you reluctantly reach for the abandoned garment as your boyfriend glares at the opposite wall. but losing the battle doesn’t mean losing the war. 

“should i put on the garter belt too?”

_____

downstairs, neuvillette sighs, cursing his better-than-average hearing. 

at least you’d had the sense to leave out some good tea.

[tsxkkis]

# tsukishima kei - unbothered

a/n = ahhh, new account new beginnings (honestly, i haven't written anything in so long idk if it's good at all T-T)

summary = tsukishima accidentally reveals your relationship in front of the karasuno boys.

warnings = yamamoto hitting on you, nothing else i guess?

tsukishima tried to stay composed, but it was so hard.

back at the very beginning of your relationship, which was going strong for the last two months, both of you had agreed upon keeping it a secret from the rest of the team. the reason was simple. tsukishima valued his privacy, and that meant the less his teammates know, the better. if they ever found out he's dating someone, they probably wouldn't let him live; tanaka and nishinoya definitely being the first ones to do so.

especially, if they found out his dating their manager.

you being karasuno's manager definitely came with its perks; the two of you could spend a lot of time without it seeming suspicious, you could watch his games from up close and, aside from all that, you've made some great friends along the way. but there were also some downsides. and one of those was surely being hit on by other volleyball teams.

the nekoma volleyball team arrived around an hour earlier than it was expected for their sparring game. and since that very moment tsukishima had to deal with a certain second year ace shamelessly hitting on his girlfriend.

"she seems quite uncomfortable right now." yamaguchi pointed out, appearing next to tsukishima out of nowhere. the blonde boy was very aware of it, and it drove him crazy. he tried to seem unbothered though, only murmuring a quick 'yeah' as an answer.

you could feel tsukishima's stare burning into yamamoto's back as he tried flirting with you, walking after you around the whole practice room while you tried to do your patch of manager duties. you tried to brush him off, but the guy seemed not to see the signs. from one point of view, it was quite funny; but it wasn't as funny when you realized that meant he would probably hit on you for nekoma's whole stay here. and to your disappointment, the time seemed to fly painfully slow.

tsukishima observed the two of you as you finished preparing water bottles for the team, which meant you've successfully checked off all of the things from your manager to-do list. as you tried walking away from yamamoto, heading to the exit to get some fresh air, the bleached blonde cornered you, making you stuck between him and the wall, his face too close to yours for your liking. it didn't help that no one in the whole gym seemed to notice that something was happening.

no one except tsukishima, of course.

the blonde boy rushed over to you two without a second thought, grabbing yamamoto's arm roughly as he dragged the boy away, an almost angry look painted on his face.

"i would suggest you don't flirt with my girlfriend. ever again." he said, annoyance clear in his voice as he glared at the older boy, making sure to emphasize those two important words.

my girlfriend.

he left the boy standing with a shocked look on her face as he turned to face you, his expression immediately changing to a softer, gentle one.

"you okay, idiot?" he asked, a smile appearing on his face for just a mere second, but still long enough for you to catch it. you gave him a small nod in response.

"i didn't think you'd react at all." you said, tilting your head as you looked at him, a smile appearing on your face. "especially like that. you know all the boys are staring at us right now, right?"

oh. oh.

tsukishima forgot about that. he was too focused on you to remember that they weren't alone.

the entirety of karasuno's volleyball team was here, staring at him with utter shock on their faces from the moment he addressed you as his girlfriend. everything he's been hiding so well for the past two months was not a secret anymore. he did the only thing he could think of at the moment; grab your hand and quickly head out of the gym, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink, much to his annoyance.

once the two of you stood in front of the building, tsukishima tried to seem unbothered by the fact he just unveiled your relationship in the stupidest way possible, but it was clear to you that he was fazed by the whole situation from the tiny details on his face, that were different to his usual expression.

"don't worry about that, tsukki" you said, patting him lightly on the shoulder. "i'm sure they won't be too dramati-"

"I WON THE BET! PAY ME UP, ASAHI!"

the two of you turned your head towards the opened door, the screaming from the inside catching you mid sentence. you immediately recognized it to be tanaka; who was now jumping around his older teammate in excitement.

"or maybe they will be dramatic." you said, a giggle escaping your mouth at the image in front of you. tsukishima let out a sigh, clearly annoyed with the behavior he just witnessed.

"they're acting like five year olds. tsk." he stated, rolling his eyes as nishinoya and hinata joined tanaka on nagging their ace. "i can't believe those idiots are my teammates."

"well, at least now we don't have to be pretending in front of them." you said, a smile on your face as you turned to look at tsukishima again. "give them two weeks, and they'll put their excitement on something else."

tsukishima knew you were right, buy it still wasn't as comforting as he thought it would be.

"this will be the worst two weeks of my life."

[winchester-girl67]

Imagine... Dean Coming To You For Comfort

Summary: Dean looks for comfort after a nightmare. He enjoys being the little spoon. 

Requested by anonymous: “could you write a fic where dean just needs some comfort from the reader? it could be platonic and dean just had a bad day or a nightmare and doesn't want to be alone and wants to be held without asking"

Pairing: Dean x reader 

Word Count: 902 

Warnings: language, nightmares, implied violence (hunting a vamp nest), brief mention of a gun reader keeps under the pillow, a little angst, emotional hurt/comfort, cuddling, fluff 

A/N: Found this in my wips, it's a little short but sweet. Enjoy. 

_____

“I said, I'm fucking fine, okay?!” 

Dean's words echoed in your ears. You'd only asked him the once and he just snapped at you, so when you got back to the bunker you beelined for your room and slammed the door. 

You didn't get food, you didn't shower off the motel shower from a few hours earlier like you usually would, and you didn't get any sleep either. ‘Monopoly’ speaking, you did not pass 'GO'. You just pouted in your bed. 

The hunt could've gone better; it also could've gone worse. 

You stared at the ceiling, still awake and wondering how to reproach Dean. He was clearly not fine but until he was able to admit that, there was no getting through to him. Dean was just too stubborn when he was in these moods and honestly you were a little, too. You wanted to help, but you didn't want to swallow your pride and walk down that hall just to have him yell at you again. 

You weren't a masochist. But you still laid there, in bed, overthinking everything that went wrong with the hunt. 

First of all, you should've brought Sam with you, or Cas. Dean said it would be simple enough though with the two of you. It wasn't and you almost got killed. Dean, of course, wasn't letting himself forget it. You could see that written all over his face on the ride home. 

Stopping your mind from racing wasn't easy. You counted the dots on the ceiling tiles as you listened to the ticking of Dean's wristwatch on your arm. He'd synchronized it to the time on his cell and given it to you before the hunt so you could stay structured in your plan against the vamp nest. 

It was smart, until it wasn't. There were more than you expected and you always jumped the gun and went in first. Standing still wasn't the easiest thing for you to do with all that adrenaline pumping in your veins. And you were used to hunting alone. Before the Winchesters came into the picture. 

Needless to say, everything that went wrong after that was about ninety-percent your fault. The other ten was simply a miscalculation.

You'd known the Winchesters for quite some time but moving into the bunker with them was fairly new. In the back of your mind, you hoped Dean wouldn't ask you to move out. You kinda liked not being completely alone anymore. The world was tough and they felt like family already. It would break your heart for sure; shatter any trust you had left. 

Your bedroom door creaked open slowly on its old hinges and a shadowed figure peaked its head inside your room. You held your breath for a moment and gripped the cool handle of your gun underneath your pillow. 

Always on guard. Even if the bunker was the safest place you'd ever been. 

"Easy, Y/N, it's just me." Dean said, pushing the door open the rest of the way so the light of the hall revealed his features. 

His expression was soft, too soft -broken like a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders and the nightmares to prove it. His hair was disheveled and he rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. 

"Just wanted to check on you, I'll let you get back to sleep. Sorry I woke you, sweetheart." Dean breathed deep and slowly started to shut your door. "And sorry I yelled." 

"Wait," you sat up and placed the gun on the night table next to you before switching the light on low. "Come here. Close the door." 

You flipped back the covers, shuffled over to make room and patted the mattress beside you. Dean wiped the frown from his face with his hand and did as you said. He shut the door and settled into bed next to you. Tense and unmoving once he rolled onto his side facing away from you. 

He couldn't ask, but he didn't need to. 

You clicked off the light and tugged up the covers to his chin. Your palm rubbed over his shoulders and half-way down his back, then circled up again until you felt his muscles begin to relax. 

"That feels nice," he breathed and sniffled a little. 

You continued your motions for a while longer until his breathing evened out, you could tell he was still awake but knew he didn't intend on talking things out. That wasn't Dean. So instead, you rubbed up and down his arm and molded your chest into his back, settling into your position as big spoon. You squeezed him and held his hand against his chest. 

"Thank you," he sighed and weaved his fingers through yours. 

Dean didn't talk about feelings if he didn't have to. And for someone so 'tough', more often than not, he liked to be the little spoon. Especially to your big spoon. 

There was an unspoken understanding that neither of you were ever to bring it up in the light of day. But things were just different at night and being vulnerable and open didn't feel as achy and oozy. 

Feelings were allowed to be felt in the dark. 

He'd be gone before you woke, starting breakfast and roasting coffee in the kitchen, but for now your pieces could hold his pieces together. 

And maybe you could both finally get some sleep. 

_________________________ Dean: @akshi8278 @laycblack @thoughts-and-funnies @mrsjenniferwinchester @crustycheeks @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @lyarr24 @suckitands33  @eliwinchester99 @yvonneeeee @igotmajordaddyissues @djs8891 @leigh70 @globetrotter28 @backseat-of-deans-67chevy

SPN: @hobby27

[creedslove]

TASTING 🍑

Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: Javi teaches you something new

Warnings: smut, rimming (f!receiving), masturbation (f!receiving), dirty talking

A/N: soy tímida 😳🪭

1.2k words

“Mmm, I don't know Javi…” your voice wasn't much more than just a whisper spread in a dark room, muffled by the pillow underneath your face, eyes flickering every so often as the man all over you worked his magic in your body, claiming it as his.

Javier chuckled against your skin, always so smooth and inviting, always feeling like butter melting under his rough fingertips, the result of years working on a ranch before engaging in an equally rough police training until he made it to DEA agent and the rest was history. His hands caressed your sides, his head rested on your flesh, while you lay on your stomach, he admired your naked figure, your curves always an enticing flame to him, the way your gorgeous ass was at a display for him. It brought a powerful yearning and desire within. You felt the way Javi moved his hands over your skin, always coming back to your cheeks, stroking, caressing, slapping them and leaving a delicious burn behind.

The way you also felt his lips, dragging over your skin, light ghostly kisses on your cheeks, going all the way up the small of your back, how that devilish mustache of his scratched you all in the right places, revealed Javier's true intentions. You were so sure, you wanted to try it, but at the same time you felt embarrassed about it.

“It's okay cariño, we can stop if you don't like it… just trust me, alright mi mariposa? I just want to make you feel good” his voice wasn't much more than a purr, the same kind that would convince you to do anything he wanted; that was the problem with Javier Peña, he was a menace to you, and you loved every bit of him. Your heart pounded and your wetness flooded your cunt, feeling the familiar, tingling sensation as you reached for some friction, moving your hips towards nothing, as his hands held you in place. You wanted it, so why was the embarrassment making you so prude and stuck? It didn't make any sense, it was Javi, your Javi, and he always made you reach the sky however he could, you had nothing to fear or be ashamed of, the way a knot of longing and desire was forming down your core was driving you nuts, you could feel beads of sweat emerging from under your hair. It was time to make a decision, and to Javier, your answer would always be yes, no matter what.

“Mhmm, okay…” your voice was shaky and he chuckled, sensing how nervous you were. There was no reason for that, he'd promised to make you feel good and he was going to do it. You trusted each other, if something was a ‘no’, it would be a ‘no’. No questioning and no whining, just pure and simple respect.

“Relax, cariño… I'll take good care of you”

Javi's reassurance was more than enough, he'd always taken care of you and above all, he was an experienced man who had quite a few tricks up his sleeve, ready to show you. You closed your eyes as you felt his lips ghosting over your ass cheeks once more, his hands moved from your hips to the curve of your ass, the anticipation and anxiety building up more and more, as you couldn't wait.

Javi adjusted the pillow under you, so you could be in a comfortable position, your hips slightly lifted up as he parted your cheeks carefully. He squeezed them, they were so soft underneath his touch, his cock was already throbbing on its own only at that simple motion, but spotting your tight back home and your glistening pussy sent a whole new wave of arousal straight to his cock and he couldn't help but moan at the sight. Fuck, it was sexy, inviting, and now, it was all his. Your holes, both of them. Javier was about to show you how good having fun with the two of them could really be.

“Fuck, hermosa, you are so beautiful… such a tight little asshole” he praised you so explicitly it made your face heat up with embarrassment. Javi was so obscene and dirty and you loved it.

As he kept your cheeks spread apart, he got closer, his lips kissing them internally, as they made their way towards your core. Your pussy was already soaked, he could see how turned on you were and he just knew it was time to act. Javi ran his tongue over your pussy, loving to taste your sweet honey, exactly the way he enjoyed it, always welcoming your whimpers and purrs, but this time, he wasn't just going to pay attention to your addictive pussy, instead, he dragged his tongue over your rear hole, wetting it slowly, while he felt your muscles clenching at his soft tongue. You, on the other hand, didn't expect to feel it that way. It was good, more than good actually, it felt so intense. The way you simply spread your legs wider, wanting to give Javier more access, so you could experience it again. And at that slight movement, Javi understood your message perfectly, as he repeated his motion once more, this time faster and more intensely. Holding you spread apart, his tongue circled your asshole, licking it hungrily as all the tension in your body had dissolved. You were so at ease, grinding your hips against the pillow, feeling the slightest friction against your clit, each time you moved more, you could feel your wetness dripping down your inner thighs. Burying your fingers into the sheets, your mouth letting you the dirtiest words, moans and pleas. You called Javi's name as a prayer, because no man in the world could make you feel that way, no man would ever make you feel the way he did, it was unique, he was unique. You loved him, you wanted to tell him that, but you didn't have to, not with words when your body did all the talking, when you arched your back in pleasure and looked backwards at him, taking your free hand to his head, sinking your fingers into his messy hair and pressing his face even more so against your ass. He loved to see how good the experience was; he loved to see how hungry your holes were for him, they were all pulsating, clenching and gaping for you. He decided you deserved more than just his devilish tongue in your asshole, your needy juicy pussy also required his attention, so while he wouldn't take a break from eating your delicious ass, he took his fingers to your folds, his digits toying between them, feeling up the wetness and spreading it all over. Your clit throbbed, puffy and sensitive to his touch, as Javi rubbed it a few times until he finally inserted his fingers inside. Your cunt was so slippery, your walls squeezing his thick digits as you were already used to their presence inside of you. You'd always been so good to him. Javi didn't waste time and began moving his hand, fingering you at the same pace his tongue worked his magic in your ass. And all you could do was to give in to him, offer yourself on a silver platter for Javier. He owned you, even more so when he made you cum that hard. After showing you how good it felt to have both holes involved in your fun. It was just the beginning, you knew it. Javi would take you entirely as his, but you wanted more and more. He was capable of giving you the pleasure you never dreamed you could get one day and you loved him for that.

_____

[thesunisatangerine]

against all odds (to wait for you is all i can do) – part ten

alexia putellas x photojournalist!reader

warnings: none (im pretty sure)

(a/n in the tags) [parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve]

word count: 5.8k

The melodic chirping of birds in time with the gentle beat of Alexia’s heart roused you, your back delightfully warm, and for what seemed to be a long time you felt well-rested–felt as if the leaded weight that made its home in your bones finally melted away because, truly, you’d forgotten the lightness of being one felt upon waking from a night’s sleep or, even more so, the lightness one felt when waking in the sheltering arms of a lover. So you sighed, content and at peace, as you breathed Alexia in when you nestled further into the safety of her neck where faint wintergreen and her delicate, earthly scent lived, familiar and evermore comforting. 

When you finally drew your eyes open, the world came to focus and revealed, in its center, Alexia already awake, her head propped on her arm with her honey eyes, just like molten gold in the resplendent glow of the morning sun, lidded as she gazed at you with a lazy smile, soft and relaxed but it ignited you with a gentle flame all the same, whose radiance only intensified upon meeting your eyes. 

“Good morning.” Alexia greeted you and it struck you just how much you missed the sound of her voice in the morning, low and soft with just the right amount of rasp that never failed to incite the desire to kiss her right then.

“Good morning.” You replied in the same tone, cheeks warming to a gentle simmer in the face of your lover’s tender demeanour. She brushed the back of her fingers on your cheek while a silence filled the space between your eyes, intimate, as you soaked each other in. But when you could no longer sustain the weight from her gaze–when you chest had filled twice over that it felt in danger of bursting from the sheer joy of being looked upon by such earnest affection–you whispered, “you’re staring.”

Alexia tucked your hair behind your ear before she countered in a voice so tender your heart ached.

“And you’re beautiful.”

No words could translate the gravity of what you felt in that moment, so you spoke the only language that could ever come close to conveying it: you cupped her jaw and caught her lips between yours, seared the missed ‘good morning’s’ and the lost ‘hello, how are you’s’ into the kiss, the pace languid but sweet, savouring the way her lips parted in this silent conversation–relishing the way Alexia tasted like summer on your tongue.

Alexia tugged you closer, and closer still but still not close enough, with a gentle pressure from her hand against the small of your back, the other now over the nape of your neck.

But the conversation was cut short, too short, when a small gasp reached your ear, electrifying you in an unpleasant way your eyes flung wide open, darting immediately to the direction of the sound to find Elisa standing at the last step of the stairs, her hair ruffled from sleep, her loose shirt creased and draped slightly to the side, mouth wide open in disbelief as she gawked at the sight of the two of you.

And what a sight the two of you must have been. 

In your haste to extricate yourself from Alexia, you ended up flopping down against the tiled floor, the carpet doing little to cushion your fall, but you recovered quickly and now you stood there not quite knowing what to do with your arms or what to even say. Alexia, on the other hand, remained half on her back and half sitting up, her weight against an elbow, the other arm frozen outstretched towards you, a clear attempt to save you from when you fell down. If the situation had been different, you probably would’ve laughed especially at Alexia’s expression: her face contorted in part mortification and part worry, brows upturned, eyes agape, and lips partially opened–if only you weren’t too flustered yourself to do so. 

Alexia got her bearing faster than you, though–damn her and her athletic condition–because she, too, now stood from the couch (and did so with a lot more grace than you did). She cleared her throat, fumbled with her hands as it looked like she tried to stick her hands in her jacket pockets before it dawned on her that it remained still on the coffee table, so she resorted in putting them in her jean pockets instead. 

“Good morning, Elisa. How are you?” Alexia said in English and her voice wavered at the end, the question infused with a guilty inflection. 

With bated breath, you waited for your daughter’s reaction as trepidation filled you, which only worsened when Elisa’s eyes darted at you, then to Alexia, then back to you again. Numerous scenarios fleeted through your mind and out of all the images your mind conjured, what happened next was not one them: you didn’t expect the way with which Elisa’s surprise morphed into smug delight, her once opened mouth now curved into a coy smile, not dissimilar to a cat’s, that only served to accentuate the mischievous gleam in her eyes.

“Are you guys dating?” Each word deliberately drawled out as Elisa posed them, punctuated by a teasing cadence that set your ears and cheeks aflame. The question, thankfully, brought you back to yourself because only you could save you and Alexia from this situation. 

“Okay, I think I need to have a conversation with you so up you go, young lady, back to your room for now.” You said as you approached Elisa who you guided towards the stairs with a gentle hand on her back but not before you placed a good morning kiss on the crown of her head. Elisa whined, but she heeded your words nonetheless, although she did sneak a wave and a cheeky thumbs up to Alexia on the way up, leaving you with an amused smile on your lips at her antics as you thought fondly, shaking your head, ‘Oh my god, this child.’ 

When Elisa was finally out of sight and you heard her bedroom door shut, you let out the breath you were holding. That really could have been a disaster, and when you looked over your shoulder, you found the same thought written in Alexia’s face. You dragged your feet back to where Alexia stood who, as soon as you got close enough, was quick to pull you back into her gentle arms. With your cheek pressed against her collarbone, her arms loose around your waist, and her chin resting on your head, you were grounded back to the moment, your muscles relaxing as apprehension began to leave you. 

“That was mortifying.”

Alexia let out an airy laugh, the remnant of her nervousness still apparent. “I know. At least we didn’t do it last night.”

“Alexia,” you groaned as your cheeks burnt anew, “please, don’t–I don’t even want to imagine that right now.”

Melodic laughter filled your ears again before it tapered off which, once again, left you two blanketed in the subtle refrain of the waking world and the warmth of the sunlight that streamed through the window. You didn’t know which of you moved first but in the next moment, you found the both of you swaying to a gentle rhythm as you held each other. 

“So, what now?” Alexia asked, breaking the silence.

“I… I don’t know.” You answered truthfully. Sure, the both of you agreed to take everything slow, but where to even start? When intimacy and familiarity were already there, strong and incessant in their pull, how could torn lovers begin to mend the fragments–to keep everything tentative and slow? Where should the lines be drawn, the boundaries set, when a profound desire that transcended physical affection already made its home in your heart, a yearning that constantly craved for not only Alexia’s company but also her thoughts? Because with Alexia, you wanted–and would always–want more.

“I think, for now, I need to talk to Elisa about this–about us.” Sighing, you continued, “what do I even tell her?”

“Well, she seems to approve.” At that, the both of you chuckled, then Alexia spoke again, serious but her tone remained light when she did. “Tell her whatever you’re comfortable with. Slow, remember? No labels for now, it’s just you and me.”

She placed a kiss against your ear and you hummed, nuzzling her neck in gratitude.

Another pause. 

“I think I should go.” 

Hard as you tried, you couldn’t hide your disappointment at what Alexia just said even though it was probably the best thing to do right now. There were much you needed to talk to Elisa about alone: her nightmares and her therapy, and now this. The only thing that eased your heart was the fact that Alexia seemed as reluctant to go, too, with the way her hold on you tightened and you responded to her touch by falling further into her, clutching the fabric of her shirt in an attempt to let her know you’d rather she stayed.

“I know. Me, too,” Alexia sighed seeming to understand what you were feeling as she kissed your temple. “How about this? If you and Elisa are feeling up for it, I could take you some place tomorrow? I did tell you before that I’d show you around.”

At the reminder, the memory fleeted through your mind and a sense of melancholy filled you but you swallowed it down before it could take root. Then you hummed in agreement, “I’ll ask Elisa about it. What’s on for you today?”

“Apart from waiting until tomorrow comes?” Alexia joked which made you giggle. “I’ll probably visit La Masia, check with Josep for next week’s schedule, then head home or visit Mamá and the family.”  

“That sounds fun.” You said as you began to kiss her, knowing that your time together for the day would end any second now. As you punctuated each word with a kiss, you continued, “alright, I should let you go now, then.”

The rumble from Alexia’s chuckle radiated beneath your palm on her chest as she whined, “you’re making it really difficult to leave.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop now,” you giggled and just as you began to pull away, Alexia cradled the nape of your neck and sealed your lips together again for a deeper kiss. Then she pulled away but not before dragging down your lower lip with her thumb as she untwined herself from you and gave you a look that made you burn all over.

“Call me later?”

You nodded.

Alexia grabbed her leather jacket, gave you a smile and one last peck on your cheek, before she strode out of the door. 

The feeling of loss that arrived upon her departure did not go unnoticed by you but before it could settle in your heart, you made your way to Elisa’s bedroom. As soon as you entered though, Elisa shot you a question without any preamble, practically buzzing in her excitement. 

“Mom, why didn’t you tell me you’re dating Alexia?” 

Your cheeks burnt at Elisa’s bluntness.

“Before we get to that, ladybug, I need to talk with you about something first.” You said as you set yourself down next to her on the bed. Elisa regarded you with a look that said she already knew what you were going to talk with her about. You wrapped an arm around her and squeezed her shoulder. “I’m worried about your nightmares and your therapy. Do you think we need to switch to a different therapist?”

Elisa gnawed on her lower lip before she spoke in a soft voice. “I like my current one. She’s cool and she makes it easy for me to talk about what happened. But I can take more sessions if you want me to.”

“Do you think you need more sessions?” You looked at Elisa pointedly, emphasising the fact that the choice was hers to make. “All I want is what’s best for you and your wellbeing, Elisa. I’m not trying to make you do anything, especially if you know yourself you don’t need them, but I also can’t just stand by and watch so I’m just here to tell you that there are options. If you need more sessions, we can do it. If you want to change therapists, we’ll both find you a new one. As long as it’s going to help you get through this, we can do it.” 

“I’m not sure… Can I–” You caught her eye again and you raised your brows at her chosen word, and you watched as Elisa nodded, understanding what you meant, before she began again, “I will talk to my therapist about it and see if I do.” 

You beamed at her, proud as you squeezed her shoulder again. She smiled back.

“So, what do you think is causing this spike in nightmares?” 

“I… I don’t know. I think I’m just nervous? Also, maybe too excited?” Then Elisa added with a small laugh, “or both? I don’t really know.”

“About what, ladybug?”

“Going back to the Academy.”

At this information, you couldn’t help but frown, confused. “Is something happening in the Academy?”

Concern must have been too apparent in your tone because Elisa quickly looked at you and said as she waved her hands in reassurance, “it’s nothing bad, Mom, don’t worry! It’s just, Coach told us there are scouts coming some time around the end of the year and I’m… I really want to play for Barça, Mom.”

You understood her apprehension but her answer didn’t tell you why her shoulders looked like they’d taken on an invisible weight again with the way her spine curved inwards, almost dejected. 

“That’s a really big opportunity, ladybug, so I understand that pressure is there for you to perform your best. Is it the pressure that’s making you think about what happened?”

Elisa shrugged, quirking her lips to the side in an unsure manner. A moment later though, she nodded and admitted in a small voice. “I just don’t want to let them down. I don’t want to let you down.”

“Elisa,” you took her hand in yours.  “Never, never. If your parents were here, they would tell you how proud they are of how far you’ve come already. You’re so strong, ladybug, and you don’t even know how much. And if you happen to fall down, we’ll be here to support you until you’re ready to stand back up again. Just know that whatever happens, you will always be enough. Always, Elisa. ”

Elisa leant her head against your shoulder then she turned her head and gazed at you with wide eyes. “You really think I can make it?” 

“I believe in you, ladybug. Do you?” You pinched her arm playfully which earned you a giggle from her. When she looked back up at you and you saw the determined gleam in her eye, the worry in you was put to rest. 

“Yes.” 

At that, you couldn’t help the warmth that surged through you and you hugged her. “There you go. I’m so proud of you, ladybug.” 

After a moment of silence, Elisa asked in a teasing tone, “so… Alexia, huh, Mom?” 

Your cheeks warmed. “What about her?” 

“Are you together?”

“It’s… complicated right now, ladybug. We’re working on it.”

“Was that why you always looked sad whenever we talked about her? Before now?” You raised your brows in surprise. You’d always tried your hardest to school your features whenever Alexia was brought up because you didn’t want Elisa to worry but you didn’t think that you were that transparent. 

“Did I really?”

“Yeah. I don’t know how to explain it but whenever you tried to smile, it didn’t quite reach your eyes.”

“Oh.” Pause. “I… I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

Elisa shook her head. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, Mom. And it’s different now. Now you look happy.”

“I am.” You admitted with a small smile. “How… how do you feel about us, though?”

“I’m happy that you’re happy, Mom. It’s going to take awhile to get used to the Alexia Putellas being around but I’ll be fine. And as long as she treats you well, I’m alright.”

Your chest expanded at her words. “Thank you, ladybug, that… that means a lot.”

Elisa hugged you then and you hugged her back. 

“Speaking of, Alexia offered to take us around the city tomorrow. What do you say?”

At that, Elisa practically jumped up, unable to control her excitement and you laughed. 

True to her words, Alexia pulled up in her car the next day a couple of hours before noon. Alexia looked comfy in her white sneakers, ankle length socks, shorts, an oversized t-shirt, and a baseball cap, and upon opening the door for her, she took you in her arms and kissed you. Her eagerness amused you and you laughed against her lips but you tangled your fingers in her hair to deepen the kiss anyway. 

“I missed you.” Alexia spoke between kisses.

“It’s only been a day,” you smiled into the kiss, charmed. “And I missed you, too.”

Time slipped you as you lost yourself in Alexia’s arms and lips, and you didn’t know how long the both of you were there by the open door, but it was apparently long enough that Elisa needed to interrupt you two. A terse cough made you pull away and, turning to look at Elisa who was standing just beneath the archway that lead to the living room, offered your daughter an apologetic smile. Elisa only stood there with her arms crossed, clearly unimpressed with the way her brows were creased. 

“Hola, Elisa.” Alexia said with a shy wave which drew your attention back to her and you bit your lip at the state of her face. You reached out to wipe away the faint smudge of your lipstick on the corner of her lips and, upon realising what you’d done, Alexia quirked her brows up as she smiled at you, sheepish. 

“Hi, Alexia.” A pause. “Wait, should I be calling you Aunt Alexia now?” 

Alexia opened her mouth then closed it, seeming to be completely disarmed by the question. And when she looked at you with plea in her wide eyes asking you silently how she should answer it, you knew just how much the question definitely caught her off guard.

“Uh, if you want to.” Her words lilted with so much uncertainty it sounded more like a question than a statement. 

Then Elisa grinned at the both of you, practically beaming. “I’m just messing with you, Alexia.” 

She then continued to skip between you two, bounding through the door and down the porch stairs, and you held your laughter in as Alexia looked after her with a bewildered gaze, mouth agape. Once Elisa got to where Alexia’s car was parked, she started to wave the two of you over. 

“She’s… she’s very funny.” Alexia laughed nervously, eyes still fixed at Elisa. Then she whispered conspiratorially, pointing to Elisa for good measure. “Are you sure she’s the same kid I met at the Olympics?”

“Yes.” You chuckled as you locked the door and began descending down the stairs. “She’s only like this when she feels comfortable around people. So, do you know what that means?”

Alexia shook her head.

You smiled at her, cupping her cheek before you pressed a light kiss on the other. “It means she likes you.” 

At that, Alexia smiled back at you with lightness in her eyes before she grabbed your hand, intertwined her fingers with yours, and kissed the back of it. And the gesture warmed you more than Barcelona’s summer sun ever could.

Then, once the three of you were in Alexia’s car, you asked, “so, what do you have planned for us today?”

Alexia adjusted her rearview mirror to look at Elisa at the back seat, smiling. “First of, who’s hungry?”

After a delicious–and a quite scenic–brunch at a restaurant located by one of Barcelona’s waterfronts, the three of you took a short walk down a nearby landing connected to the port. By this time, the sun had already reached its peak, and with the vacant sky and the high tide, the view was one someone would expect to have come out of a film; the blue tinge of both the heavens and the sea was so vivid that you knew your camera would have trouble capturing the essence of it. Image after image, you captured your surroundings and as the three of you walked on, rolls of film were exposed to the light of Elisa and Alexia, and these images, you knew, you would cherish forever. 

At one point during the walk, Alexia asked you to teach her how to work your camera, and so you did. With Elisa between you looking over at the sea, you guided Alexia’s fingers over the camera and taught her how to hold it properly, before you told her about the rest. As soon as she got it, she slung your camera around her neck and immediately started taking photos of you and Elisa. You laughed when she held the camera at arm’s length in an attempt to take a selfie of the three of you, adjusting it as best as she could to get the right angle before she set the timer. You told her as all of you returned to her car that you’d send her the fruit of her labour the moment you developed the negatives. 

About half an hour later after hitting the road again, the three of you ended up at the second stop for the day: Camp Nou’s Barça store–much to Elisa’s delight. When Alexia parked the car at a less crowded spot and began to take her seatbelt off, you fixed Alexia with a reluctant gaze, speaking in Spanish so Elisa wouldn’t understand.

“Is it really wise for you to just march in the store? You’re the Alexia Putellas, after all, there’s no way no one would notice.” 

In response, Alexia held a finger up to indicate you should wait and shifted so she could grab the hoodie that was hanging over the back of her seat. She put it on, zipped it up and pulled the hood down over her cap, then she put on a face mask and her sunglasses, her light brown hair spilling out to frame her face.

“Voila!” Alexia waved her open hands. “What do you think?” 

You looked her up and down. All of her tattoos were covered but even with her attire and her face concealed, you could still recognise her–maybe you could chalk that up to you intimate familiarity with Alexia’s being but still. So you said as you schooled your features, your voice monotonous. “Wow. You really look like a whole new person.”  

Alexia threw her head back, laughing. Then, “we’ll treat it as an experiment and see if they will.”

“That’s very modest of you,” you countered, tone still dry. 

“Thank you,” she retorted in a saccharine tone while she flipped her hair over her shoulder, and that, in turn, made you laugh. 

So then it was decided that you and Elisa would also wear face masks as all of you went on ahead in your quest to infiltrate–as per Alexia’s words–the store. Much to your surprise, Alexia’s disguise worked although she did draw some unwarranted glances, ranging from suspicion to pure amusement, due to the nature of her getup. And to your chagrin, once the three of you got back to the car with your bags of merch, Alexia smirked at you, smugness all too evident in the curve of her lips. 

After that, Alexia took all of you for a drive up a mountainside with the windows rolled down that let the fresh, summer breeze rush inside. With the wind in her hair, she began to sing along with you and Elisa to the music playing on the radio, nodding her head to the beat of the music. At the end of the ascent, Alexia parked the car at your third stop, which turned out to be the Tibidabo Amusement Park.

You knew this place was pretty high up, but the moment you stepped out of the car, even from the parking lot, the view hit you: it was incredible. The city of Barcelona stretched out far into the distance, expansive and seemingly never-ending, and you could just see the strip of blue that bordered the ports, and the colours of the city’s structures were made ever-vibrant by the radiance of the sun. The view pulled you towards the edge of the parking lot, where you put the viewfinder to your eye to capture it.

“The view is stunning, isn’t it?” Came Alexia’s voice from beside you.

“Yeah…” you said, breathless, dragging you eyes from the cityscape to Alexia and as you did the remainder of your breath was completely taken away, cheeks warming when you found Alexia gazing at you, her smile as tender as her eyes, while her loose brown hair fluttered to the breeze which added to the softness of her demeanour. The urge to kiss her then became too much so before you fall into temptation, you closed the distance and simply rested your head against her strong shoulder, an arm around Elisa’s shoulder when she stepped into the space beside you.

Soon, you began a short trek upwards to get to the entrance, and if the view from the parking lot took your breath away, it was nothing compared to what you found at the top: from the regal immensity of the structure of the Temple of the Sacred Heart of Jesus that greeted you, to the Torre de las Aguas de Dos Ríos that stood proud just behind the Temple, to the perspective that overlooked the other side of Barcelona. After another round of picture-taking, the three of you finally entered the park.

The day went by as the three of you amused yourselves with the park's attractions. And since you'd all forgone wearing masks, Alexia was, as expected, recognised by people and was stopped more than a handful of times for photos and signatures during different points of your excursion. And you watched with Elisa on the sidelines, appreciating the way Alexia interacted with her supporters, and smiled at her with encouragement and reassurance whenever she looked at you two with an apologetic gleam in her eyes.

By the time the three of you left the park, the sun had begun to set.

It was another drive around the mountain side that lead you to the last stop for the day: Mirador d’Horta. Alexia parked the car in such a way that the trunk faced the cliffside before she urged the two of you to step out and you gasped. 

You’d seen some magnificent scenes today, but this one was definitely your favorite.

There you stood, taking in the way the lights of the city burned like embers embedded in the earth. There was something about witnessing the city at night that never failed to make you feel connected, elevated, when you see the million tangible proofs of existence: under each light was a person, a family—lovers—all in their own worlds at their corner of this world you shared with them. And in your corner, in the opened trunk of Alexia’s car, was your world right beside you, and there was nowhere else you’d rather be. The three of you sat there in silence, Elisa in the middle of you and Alexia gazing over the city lights.

It wasn’t long until the day finally took its toll on Elisa, and she ended up settling her head on your lap and dozing off into slumber. You smiled down at her, brushing back her hair behind her ear as you watched her breathe deeply, feeling relieved when you noticed the peaceful smile on her lips.

“So her battery does run out. Sometimes, I forget just how much energy kids have.” The pure awe in Alexia’s voice made you let out a quiet laugh.

“It has its way of catching you off guard.” You shook your head fondly before you met Alexia’s eyes and teased, “I can’t believe she tired you out; aren’t you supposed to be the athletic one?”

“Hey! I’m only human; thank you very much. And what’s a thirty-year-old compared to a twelve-year-old?" Alexia raised an eyebrow in challenge.

“Touché. Ah, to feel young and full of energy again.”

Alexia cringed before she laughed out. “Please, stop. You’re making me feel old.”

“I’m making us feel old.”

The both of you chuckled, then took a momentary pause. You turned to Alexia and asked, "Did you run your parents ragged as a kid?”

The inner corners of her brows lifted—it was subtle, but you were familiar enough with the intricacies of her demeanour that you caught it—exposing more of her eyes, which looked pensive in the dim light, her lips pressed in a melancholic line before she smiled, wistful.

“Oh, yeah, but I’d like to think I wasn’t a menace. It’s just—you know, when you get so focused on something that you forget the time?"

You nodded. She continued.

“When I was much younger, there were times I was so intent on winning that I’d forget about dinner. So, one of them would look for me around the streets or the square. But after I got into Sabadell, my energy finally found the right outlet, and most days I’d gone home tired. Papá–” Alexia bit her lip, her eyes glazing over for a moment as she receded somewhere—a tender memory—then she shook her head. You watched the way her throat moved as she swallowed before she continued, voice raspy and quiet, “He, uh, he’d always exclaim, ‘She’s finally tamed!’ whenever I’d slump down on the couch after a practice. It was ridiculous, but it never failed to cheer me up.”

You grabbed her hand and squeezed it, expressing silent gratitude for the memory she imparted, as you smiled at the image of young Alexia with red cheeks in a sweat-soaked shirt, hair matted to her face, being chased and dragged back home to have dinner.

“No, I can’t imagine you being a menace. Mischievous, yes, and probably hot-headed, but never a menace.”

She laughed, winking at you. “Yeah, hot-headed is probably what people who knew me then would say about me. And I can’t imagine you being a menace, either.”

You raised your brow at her, smiling slyly. “Are you sure about that?”

Alexia opened her mouth as if to reassert her claim, but you saw the way her confidence wavered as she regarded you. Then she closed her mouth, now looking more unsure.

“Wait, are you being serious right now?”

You allowed her confusion to linger for another moment before you finally broke your character. “No, I wasn’t a menace, but you really should’ve seen the look on your face.”

Alexia squinted at you and muttered just loud enough for you to hear, her tone dry. “Are you sure about that?”

“Hey!” You yelled quietly, giving her shoulder a playful nudge but being careful not to accidentally jostle Elisa awake before you took her hand again. You intertwined your fingers together and pressed a kiss on the back of her hand, meeting her eyes. Then you took a moment to soak her in.

“Thank you, Alexia, for today. You don’t know how much this means to Elisa... how it means to me.”

Alexia squeezed your hand, smiling softly.

“I’m glad you both enjoyed it.” Alexia squeezed your hand as she regarded Elisa with a soft eye. Then a sincere smile lingered on her lips as she caught your gaze and said, “I think I needed something like today more than I realised. It feels good to be spending time with you again.”

Warmth bloomed in your chest, clearly understanding what Alexia meant.

“I know the feeling,” you whispered. And I missed you, too.”

With her other hand, Alexia reached out over the space between you and brushed her thumb over your cheek, tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear as she smiled at you with her eyes and her lips. With the city lights behind her, the soft glow of the car light bathing her features in its golden glow, and the summer breeze playing with the soft strands of her hair, Alexia looked so tenderly human, the embodiment of warmth and all that the word entailed, gentle and, oh, so soft.

The two of you sat in silence, just soaking each other in, until a ping from Alexia’s phone interrupted the moment. Alexia looked down, read it, and then locked the screen with a sigh. When she met your eyes, hers were apologetic. You smiled in understanding.

“Time to go?”

“Yes.” Alexia sighed as she stood up and tucked her phone back into her pocket. “It was Josep. He reminded me I have a full day tomorrow.”

You nodded. You gently roused Elisa, watched her drag her feet to the back seat, and nearly chuckled when she fell right back to sleep after putting her seatbelt on and closing the door. You turned to Alexia, and as soon as she closed the trunk, you cradled her jaws in your hands and pulled her down for a kiss. Immediately, Alexia wrapped her arms around your waist, pulling you closer to her.

“I wanted to do that all day.” You whispered against her lips.

Alexia gasped when you nipped at her lower lip before she buried her fingers in your hair, deepening the kiss. “You have no idea.”

On the way back to Derek's house, Alexia kept one hand on your thigh. And with the radio playing softly as the car passed under a tunnel with lights overhead, it felt like you were in a movie.

After Elisa had gone back inside the house after thanking Alexia for the day and bidding her farewell for the night, you kissed Alexia’s cheek in gratitude. Then her lips.

With her forehead resting against yours, she whispered, “I’ll see you Tuesday?”

“Yeah.” You brushed your nose against hers before you kissed her again. You began to pull away. “Have fun tomorrow.”

“I will. I–” Alexia’s cheeks flushed before she smiled. “Bye, for now.”

Later, when you were in bed about to go to sleep, you received a message from Alexia. She sent you a link to a tweet containing a photoset that contained pictures of the three of you but mostly pictures of a hooded Alexia taken from a distance by the photos’ grainy quality, captioned, 'Alexia, what are you doing????’ followed by a string of laughing emojis.

At that, you couldn’t help but laugh. Her disguise was ridiculous in person, but captured like this, you thought it was a work of pure comedy. 

You messaged her back, 'I guess you do have reason to be modest after all.’

[berrieluv]

hold me, love me, touch me, be the first who ever did. a short blurb about james potter being boyfriend material.

It goes without saying that James Potter is definitely the best boyfriend, person, friend there was.

He cared so deeply for you and made you feel so loved all the time, you really couldn't complain, not for once has he ever make you feel unrequited.

And for someone who spent most of its life thinking loving them was hard, James Potter was quite the gift. There was something about his way, maybe it was his personality or the professing love he felt for you that made him act that way, whatever it was, you don't think of changing it for a mere second.

For summer break, James invited you to his house – more like his mansion –, it would be fun. Remus and Sirius would catch you there a few weeks later so you had plenty of time to get to know his parents better, and the alone time you would spend together. You were looking forward to it.

Except for the nights. You knew your nights were odd, no one really had this routine for it, you got to lower it down, your mom and dad always making sure it was fine.

"James?" You murmured in the middle of the night. You tried to push your needs as much as you could but it was getting imposible. James was facing the opposite side of you, one of his legs was on top of your body but it allowed you to sit "Jamie..."

"Mmh?"

"Did you closed the door?"

"S'closed, baby. See?" He said, extending his arms to the bedroom door.

"The principal door"

"I didn't. M'sure someone else did, s'fine"

James had a really thick accent, and he spoke too fast very often. In a daily and normal basis it was hard to keep the track of what he was saying, now sleeping it was even harder"

"What if no one did?" You asked, looking at his curls falling on his forehead, his pretty face illuminated by the peaks of moonlight entering through the window "Can we check?"

"I'm sure someone did, baby. There's many people living here"

"What if someones breaks in?"

"That won't happen baby"

You played with your fingers for a few seconds, you trusted James. He lived in a nice neighborhood. Entering was hard and the people around seemed nice enough to not go through their neighbors.

But still. You. Needed. To. Check.

"Can we go check?"

"Can you go back to sleep?"

He answered back with a smile, trying to push you to the mattress but your eyes were fixated to the door, thinking. You won't be able to sleep if you don't go and check that. You know it.

"Jamie..." He responded with a sleepy 'Mmh' before you said something else "Please, can we go check?"

"Alright" He said, taking the blankets off and revealing his naked torso. You knew he liked to sleep like that, in fact, those pajama pants were too many clothes for his liking – and yours too –, but you were at his parents' house, you should show respect "Hand"

You take James' hand and let him help you out of the bed, he waits for you to put on your slippers and starts walking to the stairs.

The big brown, beautiful principal door is standing right in front of you, closed. James stands at the edge of the stairs and waits for you to see it, not counting on you wanting to go and really check if its closed.

Still, he walks down with you, still holding hands and yawning.

"See?" He says when your hand meets the locker and check that it's locked. "Back to sleep now, baby"

But you were already downstairs. And the oven was just too close to go back to the room. "What about the oven?"

"The oven is in the kitchen"

You frown; "Is it off?"

"Of course it is"

You say nothing, but the eager look in your eyes directing to the kitchen makes James sigh and start walking with you.

Even if you could see the oven off you still kneeled a bit in front of it, just watching it. James couldn't be more confused, but what could he say? If checking the oven and the door would make his girl happy, count him in.

"Is off"

He smiles "See, baby? No harm as long as you're with your man"

And you smile back. Because what kind of guy would drag himself off bed and walk downstairs at 2:30 in the morning to just check if the door was closed.

When you exit the kitchen, the principal door is looking at you again, and suddenly you can't remember if you did a good inspection in there. Your body and James' is already four stairs up, but you had to check it.

You let go of James hand for the first time since you got out of bed and run to the door, check the look again and smile to yourself now that is locked.

"S'alright. We checked good the first time"

"Thank you"

You murmur and he just smiles and kisses your forehead.

After that day, James Potter goes through the whole house, holding hands with you, checking if everything is in order to go to sleep. Of course there's time you need to double check in the middle of the night, often he would try to help you to control it, but sometimes you really need to double check.