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jadeylovesmarvelxo · 2 months

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The Kissing Game

The two times you and Eddie almost kiss and the one time you do

Fluffy,minors dni, 18+, jealous Eddie, soft Eddie. Idiots in love and mutual pining.

❤️

It was one of those stormy days in Hawkins, rain battering off the windows, the wind whistling through the trees, the weather forecast said it wasn't to let up all night.

This is how you and Eddie were currently stuck inside his trailer. He point blank refused for you to drive home when the weather was so bad.

So here you are bundled up in Eddie's room as he plays his guitar. Testing out a new song for Corroded Coffin, he scribbles down lyrics and mouths along to them, makes sure they fit into the song.

Eddie had told you to get comfortable and to be honest, there was nothing you liked better than listening to him strum on the guitar. It was bliss.

"What's the new song about Ed's?" you ask him curiously and to your confusion, a deep pink coats his cheeks. He's rarely one to blush, like ever.

Was this about some girl? It's the only thing you can think of that would make him blush so badly. Jealousy gnaws inside you, no matter how hard you try and push it down.

You and Eddie had barely been hanging out less than a year, still it was surprising how close the two of you had gotten in such a short amount of time.

"Uh, it's special. It's for someone special" he mumbles and there's a burst of agony in your chest that some lucky girl was going to have Eddie, pouring his heart out to her.

"She's lucky," you murmur and his eyes widen, he scrambles to his feet and moves closer to you. Some strange tension fills the air between the two of you.

Instinctively, you move closer to him too and shiver in pleasure as his hand reaches up to caress your cheek. Fuck. Was he going to kiss you? You wait with baited breath but just as something was going to happen, the front door opens.

It's Wayne. You and Eddie jump apart as he enters Eddie's room, smiles at you both and talks about making a nice, warming casserole for dinner, as it's chilly as fuck outside.

All the while that almost kiss stays in your mind all night.

❤️

You and Eddie don't mention the almost kiss. In fact it's an unspoken agreement that said kiss didn't even happen. So if you were both being a little weird at least according to Robin and Steve, then so be it.

Eddie was acting stranger than usual though, anytime you were near Steve his eyes narrowed and turned impossibly darker. Considering the fact, that him and Steve had been getting on extremely well, bonded over their love of annoying and looking after lost sheeples, it was a surprise to you.

It was meant to be a relaxing movie night. Hosted by Steve for the kids and the rest of the gang, except you were finding it extremely hard to relax at the moment. Worried that Eddie was going to make a scene for whatever inexplicable reason.

What was wrong with him? He was perfectly fine yesterday and didn't have a problem with Steve a few days ago at Family Video.

Was it because Steve hugged you a little longer than usual today? Whispered in your ear about his latest date and made you giggle... Was it possible that Eddie was jealous...

No. No way, he doesn't like you that. You'd know if he did surely?

...

By the end of the movie night, you were extremely pissed off. Followed Eddie to his van in an attempt to get some answers from him.

"Eddie, do you want to tell me what the hell is your problem with Steve?" Eddie ignores the first question as you both head into the van, you stare at him expectantly and he avoids your questioning gaze.

"Do you like Steve or something?" He spits out after a few seconds and you gape.

"Of course I like Steve, he's a great guy" you point out and Eddie looks frustrated, runs his hand through his hair.

"No. I mean do you really like him?" Flustered you realise what he means and shake your head.

"Not like that. He's just a friend Eddie" something akin to relief passes over Eddie's face. A small smile graces his features and he looks happy, certainly happier than he did throughout the movie.

His fingers entwine through yours and you feel your heart begin to skip several beats, your hand fits in Eddie's perfectly and the way his thumb strokes over your skin is making you feel heady, you don't want it to stop.

It seems like you have the same effect on him as there is a slightly dazed look in his eyes. This time when he moves closer to you, there's no hesitation this time and your lips are mere inches apart.

However the moment is broken by Dustin, Max and Lucas. "Hey, Steve is taking everyone else home so can we get a ride from you Eddie?" Dustin asks hopefully and you and Eddie exchange frustrated glances.

"We were in the middle of something you little butthead" Eddie huffs, but starts up the van and begins the journey taking the kids home. All the while your mind is racing.

That was the second almost kiss in a week. There was no denying what was going on now, but would you ever get to kiss Eddie? Something always seemed to get in the way...

❤️

Eddie had had enough of obstacles getting in the way of you and him. Twice now, the two of you had been about to kiss and each time you were interrupted. First Wayne and then Dustin, yesterday the two of you attempted to hang out alone but were interrupted by Robin and Steve.

Honestly, Eddie was at his wits end. For weeks he has been trying to tell you how he felt about you, he was even writing a song for you and couldn't wait for you to hear it.

You almost did the other day, the day of the first almost kiss. But the song wasn't ready, he wanted it to be perfect. He wasn't exactly in his comfort zone writing a love song, he was used to the heavy metal vibes of Corroded Coffin.

For you though, he wanted to try and get this song right.

Today he was going to do it. He was going to kiss you and no interfering little buttheads, friends or otherwise was going to interrupt.

The moment Eddie sees you he almost chickens out, almost. Quickly he shakes away his nerves and walks over to you.

There's a similar determined glint in your eye and you take Eddie by complete surprise, when you kiss him first. He's speechless when you pull away which for him is a rarity.

"Wow, he murmurs and you smile happily, about fucking time huh princess?" He teases you and you shut up his gleeful words immediately with another kiss.

Now that he is kissing you, Eddie doesn't want to stop, he also plans to kiss you all the time, annoy the shit out of the sheeples and get his revenge on them for interrupting the two of you the last time.

Yes, revenge was sweet. Eddie doesn't think much about his plan after that, when you nibble on his bottom lip and all his thoughts temporally cease for the moment.

❤️❤️

💞

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #soft eddie munson #eddie munson

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meownotgood · 2 years

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cherry waves / hayakawa aki

Aki is undeniably, wholeheartedly in love with you, and there's nowhere he tells you he loves you more than right here, in his bed, when you're under him.

cherry waves - deftones

all my love to @kentoangel for giving me the inspiration to make this fic!!!! ilysmmmmm!!!!!!!!!! 💗

pairing: hayakawa aki x fem!reader

word count: 6.1k

tags: 18+, smut, fluff, fingering, cunnilingus, tender sex, overstimulation, dirty talk, smoking, established relationship, lots and lots of i love you's, soft dom aki

this work contains explicit content intended for 18+ individuals. please read the tags and do not interact if you are a minor.

Aki is undeniably, wholeheartedly in love with you.

He tells you every single day. Before he goes to work, he leaves a note on the fridge: There's cash on the coffee table if you want to go out and treat yourself. Have a good day baby. I love you. :) His handwriting is neat, sleek, and formal, like him personified with pen, but when he gets to the I love you, the letters seem to become a bit messier. He scribbles them nervously, as if he feels a little embarrassed about writing it, about seeing the words on the paper, tangible and real. Regardless, you pluck the note off the fridge and keep it in your drawer, alongside the hundreds of others he's written for you.

With his voice, he asserts it even more. When he manages to get a break at work, he steps aside to call you for as long as he can, even if it's only for a few minutes. He tells you he loves you before he hangs up the phone, says how much he misses you while admiring the polaroid of you in his wallet. I think about you every second that I'm here. I can't wait to come home to you.

He'll profess his love in the late hours of the night, limbs tangled with yours under the sheets, while he holds you close to his chest. He litters your forehead with the lightest, most delicate of kisses, as though you're made of porcelain beneath his lips. The words are uttered drowsily, like they're heavy in his throat, and he whispers them over and over again, as if his fondness is spilling over, uncontained. You're already fast asleep in his arms by now, so his I love you's fade into the darkness, but perhaps you'll end up hearing them in your dreams.

It slips off of his tongue again when he shares lunch with you. He takes an orange from the fruit bowl in the kitchen, peels it, pulls the pieces clean apart. There's an odd number of slices. He gives you the extra one. The citrus tastes sweet on his tongue, just as sweet as what falls from his lips. God, I love you so much, you know that? It catches you a bit off guard when he says it out of no-where, but before you can ask him where his sudden remark came from, he's shutting you up with a kiss that tastes sugar-coated.

He's just lucky to have you. Lucky and oh-so grateful to share both his life and his love. This quiet scene, shared between only the two of you: it's simple, but he's never felt more alive. Aki is finally able to live how he's always wanted, enjoying the most mundane of moments with the one he genuinely loves, who loves him just as much.

If he is the moon — cold, monochrome, and stormy — then you're definitely the sun, shining like rays of daybreak light and eternally warm like a summer's heatwave. In a world of devils, of heartache and the bitter taste of blood, you would be his idea of an angel.

He's still not sure if he even deserves this, nor does he understand how someone like him got so damn fortunate. And it's cheesy, but he wouldn't trade this life for any other, or for anything in the universe. He just wishes he got the chance to meet you, to cherish you and this life, so, so much sooner.

All he can do now is make the most of it, tell you he's in love with you in as many sentences as he can possibly fit it into, kiss you until his lips are bruising, promise you, I'll stay with you, for as long as this world will allow. Cross my heart and hope to die, my love.

There's nowhere else he belongs but here. His arms belong wrapped around you, his lips belong on yours, he longs to be as intertwined with you as possible. There's nothing he wants to say more than your name and infinite chants of I love you, I love you, I love you.

And there's nowhere Aki tells you he loves you more than right here, in his bed, when you're under him. The phrase is whispered in your ear, warm and true, the slightest bit shaky. "You're beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. I'm so in love with you." He says the words softly, but in your chest, they feel like the intense blaze and explosion of a sky filled with fireworks.

A vinyl spins and spins in the humble record player, and the speakers play a song. The low music resounds in harmony with the soft pitter-patter of rain. Droplets blanket the tin roof above and then tap gently against the window. Silk curtains are pulled slightly ajar, and blurry, fluorescent lights from the city shine through fogged up glass, illuminating the dim room.

His clothes and yours lie in a heap on the floor. He slipped off his oxfords at the door, shed his suit jacket over the couch. You loosened his tie and tossed it aside, popped each button on his dress shirt, unfastened his belt and his zipper to pull down his slacks. You reached into his hair and tugged on his hairtie until it came free from the topknot and the dark strands fell around his face.

He pulled your pants down and off of your legs, then hooked his fingers around the waistband of your underwear. He kissed you through the fabric, grinning when your legs shivered, before taking them off, leaving you in only the shirt you were wearing.

The album playing is one Aki picked out. The music itself is a bit grungy, maybe even a little out-of-style, but it's one of your favorite bands, and since it's your favorite, it became his too. He plays the cassette you gave him in the car when he drives, listens to the record on loop when you're gone because it always reminds him of you.

Strands of his hair tickle your face when he places a tender kiss on your forehead, then your cheek, your jaw, and finally your lips, where he grabs your chin between his thumb and forefinger to drag you in closer. He doesn't want to pull away, and so he lingers for far longer than necessary, kissing you softly, effortlessly.

Your arms wrap around him, and you hold the back of his head with one hand, trail your fingers down his back with the other, and trace the scars that are littered between his shoulder blades. His hands find your thighs and he grips them carefully, slowly spreading them apart.

He pulls away to pepper your neck with kisses and playful nibbles of his teeth, his lips unable to stay off of you. His fingers trail up, under your shirt, and on your chest, below your ribcage, his fingertips trace shapes onto your skin. It tingles when he draws circles, hearts, spells out the letters of his name with a feather-light touch, wishing he could engrave them in. If he could, he'd cover every last inch of you with his own being, until there's unmistakable proof that he was there, that he's in love with you. For now, the hickeys he's leaving on your nape will have to do.

"So gorgeous," He mutters against your skin, words muffled, breath hot. "God, I just adore you." His voice is deep, quiet, as smooth as the velvet sheets and as familiar as the guitar riff you've long since memorized in this song.

When Aki leans back, there's a faint grin on his face, and the kindest look in his eyes. Just looking into them makes you feel like you're drowning in warmth. It's hard to recall when you first met him, it feels like forever ago. His gaze was so cold and frigid then, but now, it's taken on a much softer hue.

Aki dotes on the fact that you're wearing nothing but his own shirt. It's one of his old t-shirts that you dug out from his dresser, and it's a baggy fit, but it looks beautiful on you, he thinks. His palms glide under it, caressing your bare skin. From this view, you look stunning. The way you're laid back on his pillow, arms sprawled out with hands upturned, you look absolutely darling, like a dose of fathomable heaven.

Your senses are filled with the smell of his sheets, his clothing, and his laundry detergent. His cigarettes, his room, just the smell of him, it makes your head spin, and you melt into the comfort and familiarity of it all. You reach up to tuck his messy hair behind his ears, fiddling with the piercings on his lobes as his hands travel down. The glint in his earrings capture the hazy glow of the city lights.

His hands reach your hips and he holds them tight, his thumbs rubbing comforting circles on your skin. He lifts them, aligns you, takes a deep breath. His heart pounds with anticipation, but he looks to you, asks if you're ready first, and only when you nod does he continue. With a hard swallow that makes his Adam's apple bob in his throat, then a fragile gasp and whine, he steadily presses inside you.

You're so wet from the hours Aki spent teasing you before this, and so messy from the countless times you've came already for him. The inside of your thighs are shiny and glistening, covered with the love bites and pretty bruises he left there.

It's on nights like these where Aki not only tells you how much he loves you, but shows you. He pleasures you all night long, until you've cum over and over again for him. Until morning light starts to seep through the blinds, and you're too tired to continue, falling asleep in his arms after the waves of pleasure subside.

Earlier, he made you cum on his fingers, one hand holding his cigarette, the other nestled between your legs. He takes a drag in from the cig, tilting his head to exhale the smoke away from you, all while his middle finger runs up and down your pussy. He gets it wet with your slick before slowly pressing it inside, all the way to the knuckle. He drags it in and out, in and out, and when you buck your hips to meet his hand, he adds another.

His ring finger stretches you out deliciously, and once it's all the way in, you can feel the cool metal of his promise ring pressed up against your entrance.

It rests on the base of his finger: a modest, silver band. You wear a similar one, but yours is adorned with a bright, glittering diamond. He saved all his paychecks for months, surprising you with the matching set on your anniversary. Since then, he never takes it off, his promise to be yours anchored to him wherever he goes.

He'll replace them someday; he's going to ask you to marry him in the future, and he's already convinced himself of it. He hopes you'll take his last name. There's no-one in the world he trusts more with the Hayakawa surname than you, and no-one else he'd rather pass it on to. Giving you that piece of himself would be a blessing.

Aki's hands are so large and so pretty, big enough to eclipse your own when he holds them, or to cup your entire face with his palm like it's what he was meant to do. And his fingers are perfect; they're so long and slender, and they feel so good as he fucks you with them. You gasp when he curls them upwards, and his lips can't help but form a smile around his cigarette.

You're always so receptive to his touch. You still giggle every time he kisses the back of your hand or the tip of your nose. Your heart still pounds when he embraces you, when his eyes lock with yours for too long. You fall apart for him every time, just as easily as the first.

He finds it endearing, and he can't help but want to please you more and more, give you all of his affection. He stamps his cigarette out into the ashtray resting on the nightstand, abandoning it to put his full attention on you, whispering the most divine words into your ear.

Listen to how wet you are. It feels good, right? Tell me it feels good.

He pumps his fingers in and out to a careful, tender rhythm. He makes sure to press them in enough so that each time, you feel the cold edges of his ring.

Oh, baby, are you close? Don't hold back, I want you to cum for me.

Aki can feel you tightening around his fingers. He notices your breathing picking up and your body starting to tense. He drags his fingers out and brings them to your clit, where he rubs tight circles, just how you like, in the way that always brings you to the edge for him time and time again.

That's it. You're so beautiful when you cum, sweetheart. You make me want you so bad.

Your thighs are sore, and your whole body is trembling, but Aki holds you close while you come down. You can go one more time for me, can't you, baby? Of course, when he asks you that, the answer is always going to be yes.

He's dying to taste you, and so he makes you cum again, on his tongue this time. He plants open-mouthed kisses on your stomach, your hips, your thighs, onto every bone, mole, and soft spot his lips can find. Raise your hips a little for me, He instructs, sliding his arms under your thighs when you do so, There you go. Can you spread your legs a bit more for me too?

He laps up the mess, presses his tongue in, fucks you with it. The rich flavor of his cigarettes still lingers in the back of his throat, and your sweet taste combined with it makes him feel delirious.

He buries his face between your legs, his nose nudging at your clit, and he groans into your cunt when you run your fingers through his hair and pull him in. He kisses your clit with soft lips, licks it with the flat length of his tongue, takes it into his mouth and sucks on it hard. You're so pretty, he mumbles, but you hardly hear it. Your legs wrap around his head, and he doesn't stop until you're cumming for him again.

Making you cum, listening to your pretty moans, watching you fall apart to his touch, it gets him so hard. His dick aches, throbs ceaselessly in his briefs, leaks out where it rests thick and heavy against his thigh. His mind goes foggy with lust, and he can feel the pure and utter want for you burning in his veins, settling in the cavity of his chest.

There's something about you that always makes him want more, makes him crave you, and causes him to desire everything you're willing to let him have. It's insatiable. He wants to be inside you so bad he can hardly stand it, but honestly, he could get off on just this alone.

He could do this all night, surely. He always puts your pleasure above his own, and he would worship your body forever, make each curve and dip into his form of a prayer, if you'd only let him. He'll make you cum as many times as you can take, and as many times as you want. Whatever you want him to do, he'll do it for you. However much you want him to give, he'll give you even more. At your request, he'd give you every last part of himself.

But on nights like this, even when your eyelids are heavy and threatening to shut, you need more of him. You want to be closer, so even when you're spent, you always end up begging him please, Please, Aki. I want you to fuck me. He wants it just as badly, if not more, and when you ask him like that, how can he resist? He'll always give you exactly what you ask for.

His cock is thick and so fucking pretty, a perfect stretch when he fills you up. Aki takes his time, eases into you slowly, and you savor every single inch of him. The sight of his dick pressing inside you is damn near intoxicating, and he wouldn't be able to tear his gaze away if he tried. His pupils are blown, eyes glazed over, and his lips are slightly parted, quivering.

When he's finally all the way in, you can feel his dick in your stomach, and he groans, pulling you in even closer by your waist. He hasn't even moved yet, and his head is already spinning. He waited so long for this, ended up teasing himself just as much as he teased you, and you're so tight around his cock, the feeling might consume him. He doesn't think he'll be able to last long, but he'll try.

"Oh, fu-uck, baby-" Aki's voice cracks into a moan as he starts to fuck you, echoing a wet sound when he rolls his hips out, then presses back in deeply. He mumbles, "You feel so amazing, I love you. God, I love you."

Before you can tell him you love him too, his lips come crashing onto yours. He kisses you slowly, at first, but he can't help himself from wanting to indulge in you further. Your lips feel like all he could ever need as they mesh with his. Then, he's kissing you deeply, breathlessly, like he can't get enough. He sucks on your tongue, sighing when he thrusts into you. He buries his cock in deeper just to feel you moan more into his mouth. Your hands thread through his hair, holding it back, keeping it out of his face.

Honestly, the feeling itself isn't what turns you on the most. It's knowing that he is the one fucking you, Aki's dick is inside you. Aki, whose cold exterior you broke past, whose heartache you managed to cure. Aki, who deserves so much more than what the world has given him, who is nothing like what people say about him.

Aki, who keeps his arm linked with yours while he makes dinner, trying out new recipes to find which one you like the best. Who wipes the tears from under your eyes with his thumbs, who gives you his jacket when it's cold outside, who still blushes when your knee bumps his in public, who makes you feel completely and utterly safe with him. Aki, who kisses you just like this, like the world is going to end.

The way Aki loves is intense, but tender. It's exhilarating, but sincere. It never fails to take your breath away, yet still feels like a home you can return to. The kind of love that grounds you, but not without allowing you to fall for him more and more. The kind of love that's purposeful in everything, because in every possible instance, you're the one he wants, and the one he needs. You, and only you.

When he draws away from you, his lips are ghosting on yours, and he whispers it again, "I love you," voice just barely audible over the music and the downpour. He pulls back further, reaches a hand into his messy hair to brush it out of his face, then cups your cheek. You lean into his warmth, his touch. You can feel the outline of his ring, and he has a stupid grin on his face when he mumbles, "Look at you. So beautiful, and you're all mine. How did I get so lucky?" It's true, but really, he's all yours — so hopelessly addicted to you.

Aki makes love to you softly, almost lazily. It's sweet and passionate, and gives you a chance to enjoy the atmosphere and every little detail of it all. Aki's cheeks are flushed, his eyelashes flutter, and his chest heaves with every ragged breath he takes in. His moans are loud and needy, each roll of his hips deliberate, never too hard, because he knows how to make you cum without the need to be rough.

Every time he shoves his cock in, it sends blood rushing to his head, and with each drag out, he whines from the pressure. He's sweating, and he grabs your shirt to hastily tug it up. Not enough to take it off, just enough to expose your chest to him.

The storm is picking up now, and the rain has grown to a loud, universal drum as it pours from the sky. The record player is still going, vinyl spinning idly as it plays the next song on the album. Aki fucks you through it, nearly to the rhythm, but he isn't paying attention to the music. He's just focused on you. The ambience is drowned out by the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin and Aki's voice in your ear.

"So good," Aki slurs, and one of his hands grips your waist, while the other finds yours to hold it tightly, your fingers interlaced with his. "You take my cock so well."

"Aki… I..." You stammer out, unable to say much more than that.

"Yeah?" Aki stops completely, giving you a second to breathe. He leans in a little closer, studies your face, and quietly asks, "What is it, baby? What do you want?"

"Want you deeper, I want you to fuck me more, please-"

"Shit," Aki sighs, clearly losing his composure for a second. He already had an idea of what you were going to ask for, but he still absolutely loves when you beg for him. He exhales a shaky breath, "Okay, baby, okay."

Aki's pace quickens a little, and he presses his body closer to yours, desperate to get himself even deeper inside. He's gasping, finding it difficult to breathe as he fucks into you harder, with less of his deliberate movements, and more of his own desperation. He's losing control, little by little, with each thrust and each noise he pulls out of you. You wrap your arms around him, and it's like he's falling into you.

All it took was that little bit of extra speed, shoving his cock in deeper, harder, and your heavenly moans and cries into his ear for him to be just barely hanging onto the edge. You feel good, way too good. Too perfect, and he's too vulnerable, linked inseparably with you.

"Oh my God, I c-can't, you feel so- fuck, fucking amazing," He stammers, barely able to get the words out, moaning after every unsteady thrust into you as he begins to lose his rhythm. His high-pitched whines are a perfect contrast to the deep vibrato of his voice. "I can't, baby, I'm so close, I'm gonna cum-"

He's trying so much to hold out, but he's so needy, and it's made evident by his moans and the love-drunk expression on his face when he leans back to look at you. His eyebrows are knitted, his lips are parted, and he's flushed red, all the way to the tips of his ears. Despite how badly he wants it, he thinks he might be able to keep going for a little while longer, but when you start begging for him to let go, to cum for you, he's done for.

He gives you a couple more desperate thrusts before he pulls out, panting hard, and his dick throbs in his hand as he jerks it. He whines your name as his cum spills out all over your pussy, your stomach, and your thighs. All over his own trembling fingers and down his knuckles, making his hand sticky and messy.

Aki takes a moment to catch his breath. Strands of hair stick to his forehead from his sweat and he does his best to brush them away. He glides two fingers through the mess on your stomach, then collects what drips down your thighs, before bringing them to your mouth. You open before he has to tell you to, and he smears his cum all over your tongue. You suck on his slender fingers and twirl your tongue around his whole hand, licking up every last drop.

"That's it," Aki praises, exhaling a shaky sigh, "Such a good girl for me. You made me feel so fucking good, baby."

You hum around his fingers in response.

He's close to collapsing, his whole body covered in a blanket of exhaustion, but his focus is on you. He's still so damn hard, already dribbling pre-cum out all over your soft stomach. And he's still so eager to please you, still so desperate to have you. Watching you take his fingers just reignited that feeling.

Aki takes his fingers out, and they're wet with your own saliva when he grabs your face and squeezes your cheeks. He swallows, and the way his normally resolute voice wavers implies that he's the slightest bit nervous when he admits, "I still need you."

"I need you too. Please."

The tip of his dick is sensitive, to the point where just pressing it to your entrance makes him whine and briefly falter. He strokes up the length, trying to get himself used to the stimulation, swiping his palm over the tip to smear the shaft with his pre-cum. He doesn't want to make you wait for too long, so he brings it back to your pussy, dragging it over, getting it messy with your slick and his cum before he slowly eases back in.

"Oh, God," Aki's head falls, and you wrap your legs around his back, tangling your fingers in his hair. You run them through close to the scalp, gently holding the back of his head, and he stammers, "S-So… It's so…"

It's so sloppy, so wet. So overwhelming, and all too much. His cock slides in and out with ease, and he fucks into you as much as he can possibly handle without falling apart at the seams. Your thighs are soaked, his dick is unbelievably messy, and the wet sound echoed each time he shoves himself in is so damn loud.

"Babydoll, I'm-" Aki mumbles, but he's unable to finish his sentence, breaking into a string of pathetic whimpers. He feverishly gives your neck open-mouthed kisses as a way to shut himself up.

The overstimulation is already starting to get to him. His legs are weak and shaky, threatening to buckle under the weight of each thrust into you. His dick is so goddamn sensitive that he can hardly handle this, and yet, he can't stop. The only thing running through his brain, through every nerve in his body is that he needs you, he needs this. He grabs your face with his hand and you hook your arms around his neck to pull him in, your lips clumsily connecting with his.

Aki moans into your mouth as he kisses you, and mutters an I love you that slurs off of his tongue when yours swirls around his. The taste of himself on your mouth has him reeling, and he can't stop himself from rutting his hips into you hard. When he pulls away, there's drool dripping down his chin, and he wipes it hastily with the back of his hand.

With his head in such a blur, he ends up telling you every little thought that enters into his mind. "Feels so g-good… So warm… Really w-wet, ah-"

God, you just love him when he's like this. So fucked out and drunk on you he can hardly speak, his head so cloudy all he can think about is how you're making him feel. It's a side of him only you get to see; he's cold and serious with everyone else, but he's got a soft spot for you. The truth is, even when it seems like he's the one in control, you're the one who's held all the power over him from the start. You always have.

You can leave hickeys on his neck that all his co-workers will see, scratch up his back with your fingernails until they leave red streaks across his skin, touch him anywhere and everywhere you please because he's yours to touch. Play with his pretty cock all you want, until he's pleading with you to let him cum, to give him more because he needs it. You can stuff his own tie in his mouth to keep him quiet, wrap your hands around his throat while you ride him. And he'll love every second of it, pure devotion reflected in the gaze he can't seem to keep off of you.

He'll let you do anything you want to him, and he'll give you anything you ask for. Especially when he's this overwhelmed, drowning in his own pleasure. And if there's anything you want right now, it's to watch him lose his mind for you.

So when you tell him to fuck you deeper, harder, pleading, Don't you dare stop, not even for a second, he'll do just that. When you tell him to kiss you, bite you, he does, placing hurried pecks over every inch of your face, leaving impressions of his teeth on your neck and shoulders. And when you tell him to keep talking to you, praise you, I want to hear your voice, his words are incoherent and breathless, but he stammers them all the same, and without a second thought.

"Love you… I… A-Ah, it's-" Aki manages, trying to form something complete, but failing every time. His breaths are quickened and his chest is heaving when he begs, "Please," although he's not sure what he's even begging for. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes, and beads of sweat drip down his forehead. It's too much, but he needs you so badly he can't quit. He's desperate to feel you cum on his cock.

Your legs are still wrapped around him, secured at the ankles. You glide your hands up his chest, then to where his collarbones jut out. Over his shoulders, up to his jawline, then down again to squeeze his arms. He's pretty, so pretty, the prettiest boy you've ever seen.

He can feel you tightening around him, and can tell your moans are picking up as he fucks you. His thrusts are shallow; he needs the friction, but also longs to stay deep inside you. He's dizzy, seeing stars, and even though he's so overwhelmed that he's not sure if he can handle cumming again, a familiar knot starts forming in his gut. He chokes out, "C-Close."

"Me too," You reply, "Want you to cum for me, fill me up, please, Aki-"

There's no way, absolutely no way he can resist that. Between you begging for him and the way you say his name, he's done for. He'll always give you just what you want.

The tension snaps, and Aki grabs your waist and pulls you closer to him, fucking you through his orgasm, filling you with his cum. He cums so hard, so loud, so desperately, his muscles tightening, his dick throbbing in your stomach, all while he whines your name and a mix of disjointed, endless I love you's.

His thrusts become messy, unrelenting, and he doesn't stop, not when it sounds like he can hardly breathe, or when his whole body is trembling. Before he collapses onto you, he wedges a hand between your legs, his fingers rubbing tight circles on your clit. The feeling is one of utter euphoria, and it's enough to bring you to the edge. You slur his name over and over again as you finish, saying it in ways that make his heart flutter and swell in his chest.

He slows when you're finally spent, his voice in your ear hoarse, but gentle, words spoken under his breath. "That's it, cum on me, baby. Just like that... Oh my God...."

The record has long since stopped by now, and the rain still falls, but nowhere near as hard as before. It creates an air of silence, and you're suddenly aware of your own heart in your ears, and Aki's heavy breaths, his swallows and meager gasps for air. His weight pins you to the mattress, and he pulls out incredibly slow, wrapping his arms around you to hold you even closer to himself. He smells of sex and sweat, of lingering smoke and a cozy familiarity.

"You okay?" He asks, finally managing to catch his breath, whispering into the shell of your ear.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm okay."

"I love you so much. More than I could ever find a way to express," Aki sighs, taking your hand into his own, "You're the best thing that ever happened to me."

You give a little half-hearted chuckle, and then you reply, "I love you too. So much."

Aki pushes himself up a little to meet your gaze. His cheeks are covered in a rosy blush, and when your free hand comes to cup his cheek, he holds it there, his fingers tenderly rubbing circles into your knuckles, brushing over the curve of your ring.

He smiles, softly, warm enough to melt fresh snow, and the bridge of his nose crinkles ever-so slightly. After a moment of hesitation, he asks, "You tired, baby?"

You nod, eyelids heavy, your whole body weak and weary. Aki leans in, and you can feel his smile against your lips when he kisses you. He holds it, keeping his lips on yours for far longer than he needs to, like he always does. When he pulls back, he whispers, "Let's get you ready for bed."

Aki gives you as much time as you need to rest, and when you're ready, he tugs your shirt over your head and carries you to the bathroom. He showers with you, lets you lean on him while he washes your hair, and kisses every inch of your skin while you both relax under the hot water. He dries you off, helps you get dressed, kisses the tip of your nose, asks if you're hungry. You say that you're not, but he offers to make you something anyways, and for his cooking, you can't refuse.

When the two of you finally sink back into bed, Aki holds you close. His shape fits to yours perfectly, like two halves of the same whole. You can feel the metronome of his heartbeat thrumming in his chest. His hand grabs yours, absentmindedly, like the way magnets are pulled together, destined to find one another.

"I have the day off tomorrow, what would you like to do, baby?" He asks as he plays with your hair, twirling strands around his fingers.

"Mmm…" You feign thinking, but really, you're just trying to fight off your ever-growing sleepiness. "Can we go shopping?"

"We can go wherever you'd like. You wanna go out to eat, too? We haven't in a while."

It's because your cooking is so good, You think, but you answer with a nod so light you're hardly sure if he even noticed. He places a kiss on the crown of your head and replies, "Alright, we'll go somewhere nice."

In your head, you imagine how the day with him tomorrow will go. Aki will slip out of bed to make breakfast as silently as possible, careful to avoid stepping on the spots that make the floor creak. You'll wake up to the smell of coffee brewing, to breakfast in bed. Aki will take you to the stores he knows you love, the ones that have the clothes you always say you feel the best in. He'll take you out to the restaurant you never ask for, because you know it's too expensive, but he secretly knows it's your favorite. And of course, he'll pay for everything.

You begin to fall asleep as the scenes play out in your mind, melting into the lull of his soft breathing and the warmth of his arms.

Aki's voice is drowsy when he asks, "You still awake?"

There's no response, so he pulls you closer, holds you safely, presses your head to his heart, and tells you one last, I love you.

And when he drifts off as well, he'll love you still, wholeheartedly. Even in his dreams, then until he breathes his last, and when he does, he's sure he'll continue to love you in the lifetime after this one.

I'll love you as much as my heart can take. Cross my heart and hope to die.

#aki hayakawa x reader #aki hayakawa smut #csm x reader #chainsaw man x reader #chainsaw man smut #aki hayakawa #aki x reader

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denim-devil · 8 months

Text

Rage | Robber!Frank Castle x Male!R

Summary - The burley “punisher” known for his menacing presence and crimes happened to stumble by your home…

A/N - A simple thought that became something more then it should of, although this has been sat in my drafts for weeks now, I just decided to leave it open, maybe a PT 2 if yall are interested idk…

The night was young.

You sigh, scribbling down notes, anything that came to mind to help with the current case “Murdock and Nelson” was handling.

A series of break-in’s littered the papers of Hell’s kitchen, the bastard had managed to wriggle himself from the grips of the N.Y.P.D, stalking the shadows of the night for his next victim.

Flopping back into your chair, the cushions helped relieve the strain between your shoulder blades from standing a while, bending over the desk that currently wasn’t visible, messy crumbled up balls of paper and yellow documents detailing the certain aspects fitting the onslaught of crime covering the varnished service.

The cool breeze of the city left you shivering and alone reminding you that the law firm you happened to call home for past couple of months was your intake of madness and the decent into a spiralling well of secludedness, you hadn’t had the time to truly enjoy the character Hell’s Kitchen was and will remain.

Once clasping the window shut, you stand, rubbing at your eyes, the tiredness that stuck to them like honey grew thick yet withstand-able, it was if the city was listening, creeping and sauntering, figuring you out, a loud clunk echo’s through your apartment, ringing from wall to wall.

You had guessed it was the stormy weather outside but curiosity killed the cat…didn’t it?

“Fuck-“

Ushering out profanities was your way of coping, taking course of a few steps, gradually making your way to the wooden frame of the door consoling the running thoughts swirling around in your fuzzy brain, you still before turning the bitter-cold handle.

It wasn’t a shock, it almost felt real, more then anything you had witnessed over the past coming months, there he stood, a tall burley man, broad shoulders and toned physique, dressed in all black and a ski mask to cover his identity.

Silence fell over the room but his confidence stood proud, his muscular arms falling to his side underneath the dim light the outside street lamps provided.

“I don’t want any trouble sir-“

You tremble at the thought of becoming his next victim, although he hadn’t killed, the offer still loomed over you like his figure. It wasn’t immediate but you had guessed something within him flicked like a light switch, he placed the bag he managed to fill with stolen goods, your goods, on the floor with the same clunk from before, moving himself closer until he began to invade your space.

“What…do-“

With the incapacity to speak, you stumble back into the wall, his brown hazel’s staring deeply, trying to figure you out. He huffed before licking at his dry lips, closing in on you like an animal with it’s prey, trapping you from a potential exit.

At first he huffed and puffed like the big bad wolf, eyes twitching and lips still, as intimidating as he was, curiosity did infact kill the cat. You waited, keeping your eyes trained on his own, watching for anything.

“You’re a little to curious for your own good”

His voice was low and growly like the worn-down roads of New York City, a shiver ran down the edge of your spine, tingly yet comforting, almost riveting. Although you had no plan of escape nor defense, you melt into the wall keeping you up right, he eyed you up, almost checking to see if you fit the checkbox he had granted himself.

“Are you saying…I gotta be careful from now on?”

You question, hands glued by your sides whilst his block you against the structure of the room. This wasn’t how you expected it to go nor is it how you expected him to be, in ways he seemed softer, almost sweet like your favourite candy dissolving on the tip of your tongue.

He nods confidently, quicker then you would have liked. You can’t help the shakes the ran through your body like a tumble dryer and clothes, eager to figure out what it was that he so desired from you but also to terrified to even speak another word.

“There’s a bad guy out there, he could hurt you, y’know?”

Was it a threat? Or was he simply taking his time? His voice had managed to make you calmer, although being the aggressor, you couldn’t help but reach out, placing a hand on his hard chest, trying anything to communicate.

“Please- please I don’t want this, I-“

Worrisome pleas seemed to do nothing as he stood, still blocking you. The glint in his eyes had changed from dangerous to lustrous within seconds as if he wasn’t here to steal anything but your innocence.

“Don’t you think you could learn a lesson or two?”

A warm hand cups the base of your throat, tightening until your breathing was short-circuited, restricting each intake until you faced him, watching as he tugged a smile onto his plump lips.

Pressing forward, you allow your hand to drop from his chest, his overwhelming presence shifting until his warm breath began to fan against the shell of your ear.

“Never disturb a man whilst he’s at work…”

He presses more firmly with his hand this time making you gasp, choking on the air that seemed to be invading the small space in your lungs. He chuckles before pulling away, essentially playing with his meat, doing everything and anything in his power to make you dumb and nonchalant.

“I- please”

Your ache prolonged, blossoming as you grew harder, he was tall, practically looming over you, closing in and eventually overshadowing you from the light, his burly body blocking you in. A single hand of his cup at one your cheeks, his thumb trailing against your bottom lip in attempts to quieten you.

“God your sweet ain’t ya…”

His mouth was vulgar, his smile stretching as you accept the thumb into your mouth, tongue rolling against the thick digit. Frank could feel himself twitch, it was unusual for his nightly escapades to go like this, it was uncommon for someone to be so inviting, non the less he was entirely enticed by the whole ordeal.

You groan once he pushes deeper, jabbing the palette of your throat causing you gag, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. He couldn’t deny how pretty you were like this which pushed him to pull his now slick digit back with a pop.

Frank doesn’t fight the urge to dip his head low enough to connect your lips, locking you within a searing kiss, one that left you both hungry for more. His tongue, long and wet, rolled smoothly against your own, the material of his disguise rubbing against your upper lip and the tip of your nose, giving enough friction to calm the storm.

It’s chaste and sweet much like he was trying to seduce you which had worked a little to well considering how dumb and weak you had gotten from one touch, one look.

Pulling away with a quick press of his lips, he looks hungrily downward, lips slightly red and lick from the sloppy snog. Still leaning one muscular arm against the wall just to the right above your head, he leans further into you, pressing all of his weight against your front.

That’s when you had felt it, thick and plump underneath his black cargo’s, he settled against your own slowly growing bulge, the continuous roll of his hips relieving the ache as you sigh, practically falling into his chest.

“Just one touch and yer’ dumb for me, for it, come on, show me what i’m missin’ sweetheart”

His hands wrap around your waist once he pulls away, just enough to softly throw you onto the sheets of your bed, his talented hands make quick work of your night shorts and boxers, his eagerness prevailing once they fall into a pool on the carpet.

You hiss when the cold air hits your now oversensitive tip which dripped copious amounts of pre, Frank noticed with a deep chuckle, strong hands pushing up your legs with no resistance as he settles on his knees, hot breath fanning against the back of your thighs.

He takes note of your pale pink hole, salivating at the thought of finally planting his face between the two pert globes you had offered up.

“There he is- fuck look at that”

He wouldn’t ever admit just how hard you had got him, you we’re pretty, a little to pretty, maybe ditzy and a little stupid for letting someone as dangerous as him touch you in ways that had you clutching at the sheets.

“Sir- I can’t, need you-“

Is all you could mutter passed pressed lips, it had been so long, to long since the last time you had gotten intimate with someone, this one took the cake, it was all kinds of strange, only taking note of features shown, the way his eyes had changed to a dark shade of lust, how his lips softly pressed dirty chaste kisses to the skin of your under thighs…why was this happening, you were suppose to help catch the bastard, not fall into bed with him.

“Say that again- wanna hear yer’ beg”

Each kiss led lower until he settled just above your hole, pressing two rough, sloppy kisses to the puckered skin surrounding it, he wanted to hear just how eager you were to finally have him, to finally allow him to dissect you like a butterfly, clip the wings and make you his own.

“Please- I need you, anything-“

He tuts before chuckling one more, the huff of hot breath settling over the coolness of your hole, without any thought, you sink back into the sheets before reaching for the top of his head, with a surge of confidence, you smush his face between your cheeks as he spreads them, feeling him smirk against you was everything, but the long lap, from balls, taint to hole was much more.

He had witnessed the case file you had on him, guessed you were some sort of lawyer working for murdock, it just fuelled his fire, his urge to take control, make you forget, make you understand that he is the man you should fear, but the man you should come running to, it had his dick jump with joy, you were easy but he liked that.

He lapped and lathed at your hole dirtily like some pornstar, eager to uncover the very thing he craved. You could feel the once more slobber roll down from his tongue to your balls, dripping onto the carpet below, shivering in his hold, you begin to push back, wiggling against his face as he noses at your wet clutch.

The tips of two fingers were present, pushing into you alongside his tongue like butter, no resistance, just pure admiration and pleasure, allowing the stranger to ruin your hole, lavish licks and darts of his tongue had you quivering around the intrusion, his fingers smashing in and outwards, scissoring them apart to prepare you for the oncoming assault.

“So easy, just wanna be used? Yer’ that hungry for me? yer’ been stalking me for months and here I am…using yer’ like a damn whore…what would Murdock and Co. think of yer’ spread out and whining for the biggest criminal in Hell’s Kitchen?”

You whimpered at the thought, almost driving you over the edge. He was vulgar and dirty with his words and his tone, deep and low, almost making you dizzy along side the third digit slipping inside, burying themselves to the knuckle making your cock jump.

He smirks against your hole before giving it a few final laps. He pulls them away, standing to glare down at your fucked out features.

“Somethin’ tells me yer’ like the sound of that hmm?”

You watch attentively as his fingers work to unclasp his belt, whipping it off. He unfastens the button, watching as his cargo’s pool around his ankles before kicking them off along with his boxers.

His cock slaps up into his abdomen with a sharp thud. You glare at it, taking it in, judging it harshly. He was big, big enough to leave an impression, he was girthy and long, thick from base to tip, his head an angry shade of red, his balls resting heavily between his thighs, the light shedding of hair framing the beauty.

“Don’t think yer’ gettin’ outta this boy, yer’ gonna take it like the pretty little thing yer’ are”

Peeling off his long sleeved t-shirt, you glaze amongst the muscles that bulged, his physique was godly, heavenly, everything that had your body spreading automatically to give him the space to slot between your legs, kneeling on the edge of the bed.

“Fuck- you look-“

Your words were slight encouragement to Frank as he dipped, still the Ski-mask stayed, secreting his identy, you could still kiss him, sloppy and rough. Whining into the kiss notified Frank of your eagerness, so much so, without warning he pressed the spongy head of his cock against your rim, practically asking for permission.

Breaking the kiss had you back to reality, but it was to late, you mumbled a sharp “yes” allowing him to enter, pushing into your sloppy, slick hole with resistance. You both moan in unison as Frank pushes the air out of your lungs, pushing each inch inward until he sheathed himself fully, now resting against you.

“Atta boy, all the way in with no complanin’, yer’ such a pretty boy ain’t yer’, taking me in all the way like a professional-“

You flutter against him as his arms throw your legs up, pushing them against your stomach giving him enough space to settle just above you, his lips kissing at your jaw, nibbling on the skin as he pulls out, pushing back in slowly to allow you to adjust.

How were you going to explain the current set of events to the law firm and two of the closest men to you, Matthew Murdock and Foggy Nelson, the intimacy of your thoughts only lead you to believe that this would put you at risk…of wanting more.

#male reader #x male reader #frank castle #robber AU #the punisher #mcu #frank castle x male reader #smut

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the-purple-painter · 7 months

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Hello! This is a gimmick blog dedicated to painting posts a purple hue, mainly based off vibes.

Tags:

#the purple painter general tag for any of my posts and reblogs

#purpled post any posts I’ve made purple

#painter pile same as purpled post BUT specifically for chain posts where other painters/gimmick blogs are dog piling a post to get it notes

#purple answers answered asks

#behind the purple curtains behind the scene stuff or talking, not actively purple-fying posts

#purple rp any role play involved posts (between other painters)

#go follow!! promoting blogs of new painters that get made

Hex codes of actual colors used in purpled posts are also always added in tags!

If you are a painter and would like to join a Discord server to hang out with other painters, please dm @the-blue-painter for an invite!

Other post painters to check out:

@painting-red @the-redpainter

@the-bazzow-painter @the-orange-painter

@the-yellow-painter @the-green-painter

@the-teal-painter @the-blue-painter

@the-pink-painter @the-white-painter

@the-gray-painter @the-rainbow-painter

@the-void-painter @the-pixel-painter

@the-mystery-painter @happy-little-painter

@the-not-painter @the-glitter-painter

@the-doodle-painter @the-bird-painter

@the-pride-painter @the-mew-painter

@the-weezer-painter @the-deep-fry-painter

@the-scribbles-painter @the-sus-painter

@thecroissantpainter @the-lesbian-painter

@the-pan-painter @the-aroace-painter

@the-trans-painter @the-icy-painter

@the-omori-painter @the-sad-painter

@raidpainter @the-stormy-painter

@the-howling-painter @the-bisexual-painter

@the-hoppip-painter @the-random-painter

@the-high-saturation-painter @the-collage-painter

@the-inverted-painter @the-firey-painter

@the-duck-painter @the-scaly-painter

@the-gumball-painter @the-chaotic-doodle-painter

This post has been purpled!

#the purple painter #purpled post #B884E8 #gimmick blog #intro post #purple #color purple #purple color

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leovenuslatina · 6 months

Text

Dear you 💖

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙

a love letter from your fs 💝

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙

psa - this PAC is a little different this is more a channeled message than a tarot reading enjoy!

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ ᰔᩚ

* take a deep cleansing breathe

and pick a pile that calls to you *

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙

pile 1

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ ᰔᩚ

Dear pile one, I am absolutely thrilled to express my utter joy and excitement at the mere thought of being in your presence. It feels like an exhilarating adventure filled with endless possibilities. When I am with you, time seems to stand still as we embark on an enchanting journey of love and inspiration. Your warmth and comfort embrace me like a cozy blanket, providing solace to my weary soul. Every moment spent together is cherished, as we create unforgettable memories and share the deepest of conversations. Your companionship brings out the best version of myself, igniting a flame within that cannot be extinguished. In your delightful company, I find solace, encouragement, and a sense of belonging that surpasses all expectations. Pile one, you are my safe haven where happiness thrives and dreams come alive – and for that, I am eternally grateful.

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙

pile 2

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ ᰔᩚ

Oh "Dear Pile Two, You Complete Me" - how you fill my life with joy and clutter! As I gaze upon your haphazardly stacked papers, misplaced knick-knacks, and random odds and ends, I can't help but feel an inexplicable sense of fulfillment. You are like the missing puzzle piece to my organized chaos. Who needs a meticulously tidy workspace when they can have the delightful chaos of a well-curated pile? From bills that need paying (eventually) to notes scribbled on Post-it's, you hold the irreplaceable treasures of my forgetful mind. Sure, some may scoff at your seemingly disorderly nature, but little do they know the hidden wisdom within your disarray. So here's to you, oh magnificent dear pile two - although your tidiness might be questionable, your charm is unmatched.

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙

pile 3

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ ᰔᩚ

Dear pile 3, it's only you and me against the world. As I stand here, overlooking the vastness of our existence, I can't help but feel the weight of the universe pressing down upon us. It is in this moment that I realize the magnitude of our relationship, for within your embrace lies all that we hold dear. The world may attempt to tear us apart, but we shall prevail. Our bond is forged through the trials and tribulations we have faced together; a stronghold against adversity. As the tempest rages around us, threatening to consume all that we hold sacred, know that I am steadfast by your side. Our unity imbues me with an unwavering strength; no longer alone in this tumultuous journey through life's torrential storms. Together, pile 3, we defy fate and conquer uncertainty as champions of love and resilience.

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙

pile 4

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ ᰔᩚ

Dear Pile 4, you are my perfect person. The mere thought of your existence fills me with an indescribable mix of joy and longing. Every fiber of my being yearns for your touch, for the sound of your voice whispering sweet nothings into my ear. In this chaotic world, you are the anchor that keeps me grounded, the lighthouse that guides me through stormy waters. Your presence brings clarity to my thoughts and purpose to my existence. From the deepest depths of my soul, I believe that we were destined to be together - two halves of a whole seeking solace in each other's arms. Yet, fate continues to test our resolve, placing seemingly insurmountable obstacles in our path. But fear not, for I shall endure any hardship and surmount every challenge to be by your side. For you, dear Pile 4, are worthy of every sacrifice and every drop of blood spilled in this epic battle against destiny itself.

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙

#black tarot readers #pick a pile #future spouse #channeled reading #pick a card tarot #tarotcommunity #daily tarot #tarot #tarot cards #tarot daily #tarotblr #love reading #love messages #lovers #i love them

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sorchathered · 18 days

Text

Sacred New Beginnings- Chapter 10

A/N- Holy cow yall we are finally here! Our last chapter of this series, but not the end for Jake and Stormy! I will be checking in here and there, I have some one shots planned for them in the future and I’m excited for you guys to see how things have been going for them. Again thank you all so much for the love, I will always have a special place for this series since it’s my first baby. I want to give a massive shout out to @mamachasesmayhem for being my cheerleader from the very beginning of this series, proofreading for me and helping me brainstorm when I couldn’t push through the writer’s block. You have been amazing and I love you!! 😘

Pairing- Jake “Hangman” Seresin x reader (oc Stormy)

Warnings- language, PTSD, smut

It had been a little over a week since you showed up at Jake's doorstep, he still couldn’t believe that he’d finally gotten what he wished for. Waking up next to you every morning, getting to commute to work together, sneaking off to hook up during lunch, it was all so much more than he could’ve hoped for. You were so damn happy, you and Viper had integrated seamlessly into your new squad, some people like Harvard and Omaha you already knew but there were new players as well and everyone had been so welcoming. You had kind of dreaded running into Bradley and Erin but even that seemed to go well, they had welcomed their son Nicky a few months after your accident and he was now a full blown toddler, the spitting image of his father. Both of them had been friendly, Bradley welcoming you back and Erin saying she was so happy you’d recovered, you knew they truly meant it and graciously accepted their words.

Jake maintained that you were a saint but really it was just that you hadn’t truly loved Bradley, at least not in a way that would’ve lasted. Neither of you had been compatible, and it was so easy to see now that you’d been with Jake for nearly two years; when it was truly meant to be it was unlike anything else mattered but the one you loved, and you couldn’t imagine life without Jake beside you. The ring in the top of his closet seemed to mock him every day, he wanted it to be absolutely perfect but nothing seemed good enough for his girl, so he let it sit untouched for yet another week as he took you out to the arcade on Friday for what had quickly become a weekly date night.

You had put a bunch of ideas in a jar the week before, told him to shake it up and pick one and off you both went on whatever adventure was scribbled on the tiny note, tonight was burgers and laser tag and while he’d joked that he was too old for that he had been the one hunting you down to shoot you as he cackled, maybe he just needed to be reminded that things didn’t always have to be so stressful because he couldn’t remember when he’d had this much fun.

After a lazy Sunday beach day and dinner on the grill he’d curled up with you on the couch with a movie, you’d meant for things to be innocent but he smelled so good and you found yourself turning in his arms to sling your leg over his hip, making out with him like you were a pair of teenagers. He fucked you slow and steady into the leather couch while the movie droned on in the background, his mouth slotted against yours as his hands roamed your body, you loved to joke how insatiable he had become since you moved in but you knew you were just as gone for him, too many nights had been spent apart and now having him in close proximity all you wanted was to make him feel good. You both came undone together as you whispered I love you into his neck, and all Jake could think of was how perfect his life had become.

Monday morning before he’d even had his coffee he’d gotten a text from Maverick to head to Cyclone’s office as soon as he got in, he immediately felt his stomach drop just thinking of what that meant. Deployment, for who knows how long and who knows where, and ultimately having to say goodbye to you again after he just got you back. He couldn’t bear to say anything to you until he knew for sure, so he went through the motions business as usual as you both ate breakfast and headed to work, kissing you a little longer than normal before you parted but you didn’t seem to notice anything off, promising to meet him for lunch with a wink and kisses blown in his direction. His feet felt like lead standing outside of Admiral Simpson’s office, he knew nothing good was coming from this meeting and when he entered he could tell by the look on his face that it was exactly what he thought. “How long?” He said as Mav handed him his papers, he could feel the lump forming in his throat and wanted out of this room as soon as possible. “Nine weeks son, I’m sorry Jake I know Y/N just got here, but you’re the best for the task and if I could I’d let you stay. She’ll be alright, I’ll keep an eye on her, you just do the job and come home safe.” Jake nodded and shook his hand, bailing from the room as soon as he could, he swiped his phone open and dialed you as fast as he could, but he couldn’t seem to catch his breath and when you answered he was full blown panicking, choking out to meet him by the truck and hanging up as he collapsed into the seat of his f-150. He wasn’t ready to go, you’d only been back in the air for a few months and now he finally had you here where he could take care of you, why couldn’t someone else have been picked?

You’d run across the lot to find him with his head in his hands in the front seat, wrenching the door open to wrap your arms around him, anything to help him regulate his emotions. He finally seemed to settle his breathing, relaxing into your arms while you stroked his sandy hair and kissed his cheeks. “What’s going on baby? You’ve got me scared now, did something happen with your family? Is your mom ok?” He squeezed your hand and passed the papers off to you, you knew exactly what it meant and you felt cold all over. This was the job, and while you both loved it you hated this part more than anything. He would miss all the major holidays together in your new home, your heart broke a little at having to celebrate Christmas without him and he let you curl into his arms and cry.

He only had a week from getting his papers to shipping out and it felt like the time was speeding away from him and he couldn’t catch it. He’d been adamant that the two of you update your wills on Tuesday and you had vehemently opposed it, he was stressing a little too much for your liking and it left you unmoored. Deployments were a part of this life, and yes you’d had a serious scare this last time but that didn’t mean he needed to become doom and gloom over it, you were worried about his mindset going into this, he needed a clear head if he had any hope of getting through this unscathed.

Wednesday night he was meticulously going through his packing list, gear spread all over the living room when you stepped into the house with take out, the vein in his forehead that only came out when he was angry seemed to be a permanent presence as of late, he was all furrowed brows and tense shoulders and you couldn’t take it for one more minute. “Jacob Thomas Seresin!” You called from the kitchen and he snapped his head to attention, he hadn’t even noticed you had gotten home until you shouted, looking across the room to find you with a pizza box in one hand and you completely stripped to nothing as you leaned against the doorframe. You sauntered over to where he sat cross legged on the floor, dropping the pizza box on the coffee table as you lowered yourself onto his lap, he was already getting hard for you when you pressed your bare pussy to the front of his gym shorts, his face going completely blank, no sign of that pesky forehead vein in sight.

“Fuck Stormy what are you doing baby? I gotta get this-“ he stopped short with a gasp as you ground yourself into him as you yanked a little roughly on his hair, pulling his face to yours and sloppily licking into his open mouth, he seemed to short circuit for a moment but recovered quickly as he wrapped his arms around your bare torso and kissed you back with fervor. Yanking his head back again to look up at you he blinked glazed emerald orbs at you, you were frustrated with him, he could see that now but he couldn’t focus enough to ask with you on top of him like this, he thought about asking but thought better of it when you reached down and took his length from his shorts, thoughts scattering all over again when you got up on your knees and sunk down on him, you still hadn’t said anything but he couldn’t be bothered anymore, whining out your name as you took him to the hilt with your warm center clenching around him. You nibbled on his lip and rubbed your nose along his as you wrapped your arms around his neck and you could feel the tension leaving him as you held him close, you knew he’d needed it as much as you, just the closeness of your bodies pressed together was enough to soothe whatever had been ailing both your minds.

“I’m going to sit here with you just like this until you calm the fuck down and tell me what’s got you so amped up, you’ve been like an exposed nerve ever since you got your papers and I can’t let you leave like this. You’re scaring me Jake, you can’t leave for a mission distracted you know better than that. You’re the best pilot I’ve ever seen and they picked you to head this op. You have to tell me what’s going on, you just have to!” You cried out as tears began to pour from your eyes, your throat felt raw with the emotion bubbling out of you and you began to shake in his embrace, the combination of being so full of him and revealing your worry almost too much. He seemed to jolt out of whatever trance he’d been in at your tears, swiping at them as they ran down your cheeks and kissing you hard, he knew he’d been distant and stressed couldn’t begin to describe how he’d been feeling, but he hadn’t even thought about himself and how it could affect the mission; all his worries had been solely focused on you.

“Oh baby I’m so sorry, shh hey I’m here ok? I’ll tell you all of it, just don’t cry sugar. I can't stand knowing I hurt you.” He was kissing every bit of your face he could get to, smoothing his hands all over you as you began to come down and regulate your breathing. You couldn’t be closer if you tried and yet he still felt so far away, you needed more so you latched on to his mouth and tightened your arms around his neck, he let you ground yourself and calm down, just breathing you in until the tears finally stopped. “Baby, baby I love you so much, I’m sorry” he murmured against your lips, you nodded and sniffled a little but didn’t loosen your grip, rocking into him slowly knowing he’d know what you wanted. He groaned low in his throat and flipped the two of you over as he pressed you gently into the carpet, letting the hot languid kisses burn the two of you up, all heat and bodies grinding into each other, letting all the stress go and just being hopelessly in love.

Hours later after you were both fully sated and relaxed you laid naked in his arms and ate the cold pizza while he let out all the words he’d kept bottled up. “It hadn’t ever occurred to me that we could lose this, I mean our job is dangerous sure but some naive part of me just thought we were untouchable.”

“Until I got hurt” you said quietly.

“Until you got hurt. It felt like someone had pulled the rug out from under me, every dream I’d ever had of us and our future could’ve been gone in an instant and I am terrified that something could happen to me and I’d leave you here alone.” He tightened his grip on your waist and you pressed a kiss to his chest, you knew exactly how he felt because you’d felt it all as you fell out of the sky during your ejection. But he couldn’t live in fear, it made him a liability to his fellow pilots and he was too damn good at what he did to let this destroy his confidence.

“You have to have faith baby, faith that you’ll make it through, that I’ll make it through and that we will get that long happy life that we want. I’m not going anywhere Jake, and I need you to be my cocky asshole pilot who thinks he’s God’s gift to the navy. Go be a badass and come home to me.”

You both laughed at that, he’d grown so much from that dickish holier than thou douchebag he had been when you first met, he was so much more level headed and mature. He promised he’d fight like hell and you knew he would.

The missions were grueling, the weather had been miserable lately and it made drills almost impossible, intel was scarce and worst of all he hadn’t been able to hear your voice in weeks. He had missed Halloween and thanksgiving, both squads had joined up for a potluck and you’d sent him a bunch of pictures, he was just grateful you weren’t doing this alone. He had gotten an email from his mother earlier in the week hoping he could talk to you about staying for the Christmas holidays and he couldn’t think of a better place for you to be. You loved Christmas, it used to annoy him because it wasn’t his cup of tea but somehow you’d softened him to it. He wrote to her quickly to tell her it was a great idea and to give you a call, when he’d had a knock on his door. Fritz leaned in with a look he knew all too well, it was time to fly out. He emailed you as well, telling you he loved you and then grabbed his gear and headed for the tarmac, he could only hope he’d be able to execute this and get home safely.

You stepped off the plane in Austin on December 18th to the entire Seresin clan in the lobby, Jake’s sisters and mom rushing forward to wrap you up in hugs and you couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt this kind of love, probably not since your grandmother had passed nearly a decade before. She would have adored Jake and his family, they spent the holiday season showing you all over town, hitting up all of Jake’s old haunts and embarrassing family pictures. Movie nights and Christmas cookie bake offs, family dinners and shopping trips with the girls; it had been so much fun and the Seresin’s had welcomed you with open arms, it felt like somehow you belonged here, the only thing missing was your 6 foot sandy blonde dreamboat boyfriend.

Correspondence had been spotty with Jake for a while, you’d gotten a FaceTime call after a mission and he had seemed grim, they’d lost a teammate to enemy fire and the weather had been abysmal, almost everyone had come down with the flu and he was miserable. He said he hoped he’d make it home by mid January and your heart broke all over again at not getting to spend Christmas together in your home, but he was adamant that the best place for you was with his family, and that next year would be a big blowout, he even agreed to let you buy any and every inflatable you wanted to cover the yard in Christmas cheer.

What you didn’t realize was that he was already on his way back to Coronado, he had coordinated with Phoenix to help him turn the house into a Christmas wonderland and would be back just in time for you to get home. He couldn’t let the ring sit any longer, he needed it on your finger now. After too many hours covering his house from top to bottom in snowflakes and Christmas lights, it was finally time for your plane to land. He was so nervous, he knew he didn’t have any reason to be, Javy had kept him up to date on when your plane landed and when he picked you up. Jake could barely sit still, so full of nervous energy knowing what was to come. Finally, he heard Javy’s truck pull into the drive and watched through the blinds as he helped you gather your luggage, even in leggings and his old UT Austin sweatshirt you looked like you’d stepped off a runway in his eyes, every bit his dream come true. This was it, when you came through the door he’d finally get to make you his forever, it had all been worth the wait.

Epilogue (Lover)

Jake Seresin masterlist

🏷️ Tagging- @mamamaystbr @mamachasesmayhem @bobgasm @attapullman @kmc1989 @pinkdaisies9285 @seitmai @seitmai-too @mrsevans90 @djs8891 @mygyn @jessicab1991 @jostan456 @86laura11 @dempy @shanimallina87 @floydsglasses @dizzybee03 @its-the-pilot @nouis-bum @roosterforme @the-aspiring-fanfic-writer

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candied-peach · 3 months

Text

ao3: "i'm afraid we won't be leaving" rating: T warnings: prinxiety, remus shenanigans mentioned genre: fluff description: Roman's not been sleeping. Virgil has a fix for that. (for anonymous: "tss fluff prompts.... prinxiety and a nap?")

Roman's jaw cracks in a yawn as he covers his mouth with one ink-spattered hand. He's been struck with a burst of creativity the past few days, so he's been working extra hard for Thomas. A bundle of scripts lay untidily stacked on a corner of his desk, and he's steadily plowing through another. This is good. This is great! Sure, he hasn't really slept in three days, but he doesn't need it! Not when energy thrums through his veins, exhaustion be damned. He's been drinking and eating for the most part (Virgil keeps dragging him off to meals and replenishing his water bottle). All in all, he is doing fantastically and he's so proud of himself. What would Logan say if he could see Roman now? Buckling down and getting the work done?

"Ro," Virgil's voice intrudes. Roman's mouth turns down into a pout before he can stop himself. He loves his boyfriend. He really does. Virgil is incredible and Roman doesn't know how he managed to get so lucky as to have Virgil say yes.

But Virgil doesn't understand how important it is for him to keep going when he's in the groove like this! He needs to finish it! Anxiety plucks at his heart strings, sending little shocks of worry throughout his nervous system.

"Ro, you need to sleep," Virgil says, resting his chin on Roman's shoulder.

"I'm nearly done," Roman argues absently. Virgil eyes him, and Roman finds his face reddening.

"No, you aren't," Virgil says. "I can tell you're lying from a mile away, Princey. Are you trying to get Janus's attention?"

"No!" Roman sputters, still red-faced. "I'm just- I'm not at a good stopping point, Dark and Stormy, just let me-" He wheedles. Virgil raises a dubious eyebrow.

"I don't think so," Virgil says, tugging Roman's chair out from his desk and spinning him around. Roman squeaks, nearly dropping his pen.

"Virgil!" Roman exclaims.

"Roman!" Virgil echoes his intonation. "You need a nap, darling. Come on. Up you get." He tugs at Roman's wrists. "I promise, I will let you get back to it once you've had a nap."

"But what if I forget my thought process?" Roman asks, his eyebrows scrunching together in worry. "I need to get this done, I told Thomas and Logan I'd have this done by the end of the week-"

"Darling, it's Wednesday," Virgil calmly points out. "You still have a few days to get it done. You won't finish it if you collapse instead."

"You're supposed to be on my side," Roman playfully accuses. "What happened to Anxiety prodding Thomas to get his shit done?"

"I realized self care is also important, and you'll get nothing done if you don't sleep," Virgil retorts, deadpan. "I will give you one minute to write down some notes for what you want to do, and that's it."

Seizing his opportunity, Roman whirls his chair back around, grabbing a spare sheet of notebook paper and scribbling down as many thoughts as his crammed-full brain could spit at him. All too soon, the minute is up, and Virgil is plucking the pen out of his hands.

"Nap time," Virgil insists. Roman throws him a pleading look.

"Now darling-" Roman starts, but Virgil just leans forward and kisses his nose, cutting him off mid-sentence.

"You look exhausted," Virgil informs him. "Your bags have bags and are moving cross-country. You look like you're wearing my eyeshadow, babe. Come on."

"Fine," Roman grumpily acquiesces. Virgil helps him stand and fatigue weighs every limb down as he is suddenly accosted with exhaustion. He wobbles and Virgil steadies him with a sympathetic smile. His opulent red and gold-draped bed looks more welcoming by the second.

"Just a few more feet," Virgil encourages him softly.

"You'll nap with me, won't you?" Roman asks. Virgil nods immediately.

"Of course, Princey," Virgil says. A soft, sappy look spreads across Roman's face as he sits down on the edge of the bed and snaps himself and Virgil into their pajamas. He yawns again and Virgil pushes him back onto the bed, crawling in after him.

"Go to sleep, love," Virgil says. The soft sound of rushing water fills the room, as Roman nonverbally turns on his noise machine. He can't handle the quiet otherwise, and Virgil's soft breaths aren't enough white noise to help.

"Love you, stormcloud," Roman murmurs. His eyelids feel like they have five pound weights attached to them. Virgil kisses him, then peppers more kisses across his cheeks.

"Love you, too, Princey," Virgil says, his voice so thick with fondness, it makes Roman's heart swell. "Your work will still be there when you wake up. Promise."

Hearing that, Roman immediately snaps his fingers to turn on the Anti-Remus Wards, just in case, and Virgil laughs.

"Point taken," Virgil says. "Now it will still be there."

"I know my brother," Roman mumbles, already halfway to dream land. Virgil curls up tight against him, one arm draped over his middle, and Roman's breathing slows, evening out.

He sleeps for hours and when he wakes up, his door is streaked with green slime that seems to be smoking.

But his work is untouched.

#🍬.txt #sanders sides #prinxiety #roman sanders #virgil sanders #roman #virgil #sanders sides fic #ok to rb #peach writes #📚

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stormhollows · 3 months

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🦇🥀 Vampire Dragon

#dragon art #digital art #dragons #artists on tumblr #fantasy #mythical creature #vampire #demon #creature of the night #stormy dragons #stormy scribbles #oooo spooky #queued

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reminiscingtonight · 1 year

Text

If You Love Her

Leah Williamson x Reader

Word Count: 5.8k

A/N: Sorry if the story is a bit confusing, it jumps through time a lot. You can follow the numbers if you want to read it chronologically, otherwise just sit back and enjoy!

[WOSO Masterlist]

There’s been an annoying tune stuck in your head all day.

You thought that after finally being able to expel the thoughts raging in your head, you’d finally have some peace and quiet. But no, after a night cranking away, working on songs you know you’d add to your new album, you woke up to an inkling of a melody and nothing else. The more you tried to work on it, the further it seemed to slip from your grasp.

After spending the entire day cooped up in your studio, you finally decide to stretch your legs. Your eyes nearly fall out of your head when you see the time. It now made sense why your stomach was cramping like crazy.

It isn’t a hard decision to go to your favorite hole in the wall cafe. There’s nothing a cup of coffee from your favorite place couldn’t fix.

You couldn’t have been sitting for more than five minutes before you get that strange tickle again. And with the tickle comes the answers you’re looking for. Quickly pulling out a pen, you start scribbling on the napkin in front of you. In your haste to leave your house, you somehow forgot to bring your trusty notebook with you.

The ring of the bell above the door catches your attention, and your head lifts at the sound.

Your hand screeches to a stop when you catch a familiar flash of blonde hair.

You blink.

She seems to be scanning the room before her eyes fall upon yours. The first thing you notice is how red her eyes are. She must’ve been crying earlier. You can’t help but want to frown at the thought.

Then there’s the whole host of emotions that seem to wash over her when she sees you: relief, regret, fear. There’s sort of a timid look on her face when she raises a hand in greeting. The uncertainty still lingers in her eyes.

The corner of your lip turns up. You hope she can’t tell how nervous you are.

You raise a hand in response.

“Hey.”

And just like that, with just a simple greeting, you give your heart away again.

---

You wake to cold toes pressed against your quads and even colder fingers digging into your ribs.

Even with sleep still clouding your mind, you have to fight the urge to squirm away.

No matter how many layers Leah wears to bed or blankets the two of you pile on, the northerner always seems to wake up feeling like an ice cube. You’re the opposite. Wearing the thinnest t-shirt and lightest boxers you own, you always wake up burning like a furnace. Ten out of ten times your heat and Leah’s lack of heat will result in Leah climbing on top of you somewhere in the night, completely trapping your warmth against her.

Shivering, you try to keep yourself still. With the amount of energy Leah expends every day, you want to let her sleep for as long as she can. Usually you awaken to Leah’s soft whispers of apologies, shimmying on some clothes before she sets out for training or a meeting with some sponsor. No matter what it is, your girlfriend never stays still for too long, always up before the sun even rises in the sky.

That’s why today, on a rare day off for both you and her, you’re willing to do whatever it takes so Leah can get some extra hours of sleep.

Eventually, sometime between losing feeling of the arm trapped beneath your heads and the sunlight peeking through the blinds, you see Leah’s brows start to furrow. Her face twitches as her free hand starts clenching at your shirt, bunching up the material under her hand.

You stay quiet until stormy blue eyes hazily blink open.

“Hi,” you whisper, brushing back her hair.

Leah’s eyes momentarily fall close again, basking in the comforting feeling of your fingers running through her hair. “Morning,” she rasps.

Your smile is automatic. You’ve always loved Leah’s voice, when she’s on the pitch or singing in the car, it doesn’t matter. There’s not a version you don’t love. But there’s nothing like her morning, scratchy, “just woke up from a deep slumber” voice.

Almost as if she can hear your thoughts, she mumbles out a quiet “don’t say it.”

Your grin widens. “Don’t say what?”

She flattens her feet against your legs, fingers also pressing harder against your skin. This time you can’t stop your yelp, trying to squirm away from the cold. The hand holding your shirt drops so she can get her whole arm around you. This time you’re really trapped.

The next few minutes consist of your shrieks, Leah’s delighted laugh, and your unfairly strong girlfriend keeping you pinned against the bed.

When Leah’s finally done torturing you, she sits back with a content sigh, trying to stretch out her arms above her head. Despite still being fully clothed, you can’t help but run your eyes appreciatively up and down your girlfriend. She mistakes your appreciation for amusement.

“Not all of us can be as hot as you.”

She’s referring to your body heat, but you can’t help but poke fun at her. “Are you complaining?”

She rolls her eyes, hints of a grin on her lips when she catches your innuendo.

“It’s okay, you can call me hot. Or smokin’. I also respond to hot tits,” you jest, winking at her.

When Leah turns around to pounce on you in retaliation, you know you deserve it. But with your lips locked and Leah pressing you back against the bed? Well you couldn’t really complain.

---

You rub tiredly at your eyes. You’ve been staring at the same piece of paper for the past two hours, almost as if the words would magically appear if you just stared hard enough.

The sound of the door unlocking makes you tap your pen a little harder, but other than that, you don’t react to it.

Leah’s light greeting is responded with a grunt, but the blonde takes your non-greeting in stride, simply dropping her bag by the door before sliding onto the couch next to you. You give yourself the leeway to melt into the kiss Leah presses against the side of your head in greeting, but after the doled out seconds, you focus your eyes back onto the paper.

Your girlfriend doesn’t say as much, but you can sense the curiosity rolling off her in waves. She eyes the half scribbled words, the tons of question marks, and other symbols that meant nothing to her but everything to you.

“Had a good day?” she muses, trying to gauge your mood.

You shrug, not really giving her an answer.

Leah’s eyebrows draw down in concern, but she changes the subject, sensing your discomfort. “Well my mum called again earlier. She was wondering if we would be arriving on Monday or Tuesday for the holidays.”

You try not to make a noise of annoyance, but Leah’s hand tightening around her phone tells you you didn’t succeed. “I don’t know, I’ve got a busy schedule lined up. I’ll need to check. Let me get back to you.”

Leah tenses up more next to you. She tries to be gentle, but you can hear the irritation seeping into her voice. “You said you were going to check when I asked you earlier this week. And last week. And the week before that.”

You let out a huff of frustration. “Look, I don’t know yet, okay? What more do you want?”

“How ‘bout a fucking answer?” Leah pushes off from the couch, coming to stand in front of you so you’d meet her eyes. “My mum asked me about our holiday plans months ago. And all you do is push it off.”

“I’ve been busy,” you grit out. Your head is killing you and this conversation isn’t doing too much to help.

“And I haven’t?” Her eyes flash angrily as she barrels on. “I can’t tell if you’re even being serious anymore. We’re all busy in our own way but you can’t pencil us in even for an hour?”

The sarcasm dripping from her voice has the voices in your head biting back with vengeance. You can’t help but let out a sigh of exasperation. “What do you want me to do? Tell my manager to piss off? I need to give her something before her and the record company drops me.”

“I’m not telling you to do that, I just simply--”

“Look, no one said dating a singer would be easy. I have deadlines I need to make.”

“Don’t do that,” she snaps. “I know what I signed up for when we started dating. Don’t blame your inability to balance your personal and professional life on me.”

Your nose flares in annoyance. “Not all of us can spend our days kicking balls around. Some of us actually need to put in work to get by.”

The second the words leave your lips, you wish you can take them back.

Leah’s eyes narrow dangerously as she clenches her jaw tight. She looks like she wants to punch you, and honestly you probably wouldn’t try to stop her if she did. “You want to repeat that?”

There’s a dangerous edge to her voice, and you instantly know better than to take her up on that challenge.

You say nothing, dropping your eyes to your hands. The half-empty page sitting in front of you just looks more pathetic now that it’s cultivated into you starting this fight.

You know Leah had nothing but the best intentions when inquiring about your holiday plans. If anything, you should’ve given her an answer when she asked a while back. But you didn’t. And here you are now.

Leah lets out a sardonic scoff. “You know what, forget about it. I’ll let my mum know it’ll just be me.”

You’re silent when she stalks away, loud stomps revealing her internal emotions with ease. The bedroom door slams shut with a loud bang not long after.

You drop your head into your hands, instantly feeling the hot sting of tears.

Fighting with Leah was never your intention. You always hated it when the two of you disagreed on anything. Those ugly words you said, well you know you have no one to blame but yourself for them.

These past couple years have been some of the best in your life. From meeting Leah to falling in love with her, there hasn’t been a moment you didn’t treasure. But for some reason, you haven’t been able to capture any of it down on paper. Every time you try to channel your feelings into a song, it never ends up coming out right. Other than a song you wrote relatively early in your relationship, you haven’t been able to release anything substantial.

Simply, you’ve hit a big musical block and you didn’t know how to get past it.

You felt disappointed in yourself, your craft, your life. It also didn’t help that your manager and label were pressuring you to give them something lest they begin taking some more drastic measures. The threat was clear: give them something or be dropped.

It’s not Leah’s fault she walked in on you just hours after one of those thinly veiled threat calls. She had left early in the morning for a training session, not returning until hours after you’ve been up. Hours after you’ve been silently stewing in anxiety.

You stay in the living room long enough that your back grows stiff and your headache increases tenfold. Shuffling to your feet, you quietly make your way to your shared bedroom, knocking before gently pushing it open.

You find Leah sitting on the bed, head buried in her hands.

“Leah, I-- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to start a fight.” You swallow hard, not liking the way she barely responds to your voice. She’s still sitting slouched, not even lifting her head to look at you.

You nervously wring your hands before timidly taking a seat on the bed. You’re sitting far away enough to give your girlfriend some space, but still close enough so she can hear the sincerity in your voice.

“I know I-- I’ve been stressed lately, and I… I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. It doesn’t excuse what I said today, and I’m so sorry.”

“Then why did you?” comes her muffled response. She still hasn’t moved from her initial position, but you’ll take Leah responding to you as a win.

“Why did I--” you break off when you realize what she’s asking. There’s a painful stabbing in your heart when you realize just how much you’ve hurt her. “I didn’t mean to take it out on you, I promise. I would never belittle you like that on purpose. I know how important football is to you and I honestly applaud you for how well you’ve done for yourself. What I said was stupid and I would take it back if I could because I definitely didn’t mean any of it.”

Leah moves suddenly, turning to face you. You don’t know whether to expect a slap or something else, but you don’t have a chance to do anything before she’s burying herself against your neck, arms tightening against you.

You instantly feel the wetness of her tearstained face pressed against your skin.

“I’m sorry. I love you,” you whisper, trying to swallow away your guilt as you press a kiss against her hairline.

Leah hums a sad, low note, but doesn’t say anything else.

“I’ll tell them I can’t make it. I want to go home with you, you’re more important to me than they’ll ever be.”

“I don’t want you tank your career for me. You should stay if you need to work on a song,” Leah eventually sighs out. You know if the roles were reversed you would probably say the same --- in no universe would you ever want Leah giving up her football career for you.

But you shake your head. She would never ask you to do it, but you would be willing to give it all up for her.

“I love you,” you repeat, arms tightening around the blonde. “You’re more important to me than any stupid song I have to write.”

And it’s true. All you have to think about is how she makes you feel, when she’s taking you out on a date, seeking you out after a game, or simply curled up into your side reading a book. The high you get from touring sold-out stadiums never compare to the one you get by simply being around Leah.

She makes you a better person in every way imaginable.

“Tell your mum we’ll be there bright and early Sunday morning.”

Leah sniffles into the side of your neck but doesn’t say anything.

Shutting your eyes, you will every ounce of your person into being a better partner. Leah deserves someone who treats her with the utmost love and respect, and you’d be damned if you let her slip through your grasp.

You think about the tiny black box you accidentally stumbled upon when helping tidy up Leah’s home gym.

You think about the tiny red one you have hidden under one of the false bottoms in your guitar case.

None of it would be worth it if you didn’t have her by your side.

---

“So the strangest thing happened today.”

You hum in question, still focused on running your hand through her hair. Upon arriving at your place today, Leah simply plopped herself down in your lap, heavily exaggerating how much her head hurt. Knowing Leah was only fishing for a head massage, you simply chuckled before planting your hands in her hair.

“Katie and I were talking earlier.”

Leah has brought up her Irish friend a couple times already. From all the stories she’s told you, you gathered that the Irish woman seemed like a hoot to be around. Although you’ve only been dating for a couple weeks, you couldn’t wait until you met Leah’s friends from work. They all sound so interesting, not to mention close with Leah.

You’re still caught up in your head, imagining what you’re going to need to do to impress said friends that Leah’s next words take you off guard.

“When were you planning on telling me you were a famous singer?”

Your fingers still. Leah turns over in your lap, fixing you with a look. With Leah literally laying on top of you, there was really no way for you to escape this conversation.

“Uh, how did… why did-- Katie brought this up?” You want to cringe at how panicked you sound. It’s not like you were purposefully hiding your profession, per se. Your face has been plastered all over social media, your songs top of the charts. But you haven’t really released anything in the past year leading up to meeting Leah, so you’ve faded a bit from the public eye. But it’s not like Leah ever dug too deep into trying to figure out what you did for your job either, so really you couldn’t hold too much of the blame.

“It just came up in conversation.” Leah doesn’t mention how it all began with Katie catching sight of you on her phone and then eventually pulling up your wikipedia page and spotify page and… well quite a lot of things before she believed her.

You nervously fidget, only having enough room to squirm a little bit. Leah raises an eyebrow, more than happy to stay here until you answer her question.

Eventually you fix your eyes somewhere off into the distance, nervously scratching at the back of your head.

“I guess I just… I liked how I could just be myself around you. Usually when people realize who I am, what I do, they become some sort of artificial shell, because that’s what they expect from my persona as well. But then when we met, you just… you didn’t know who I was. You didn’t have any expectations, and I could just be me.”

The feeling of Leah’s hand soothingly rubbing on your knuckles has you nervously bringing your eyes back down. She meets your gaze with a warm understanding, none of the accusatory glares you were expecting.

“I’m sorry. I know I should have told you a while ago, but I just selfishly wanted to keep living this perfect paradise we’ve created. You help ground me and I honestly just like myself better when I don’t have to be the ‘famous singer’ everyone expects everything from.”

It’s at this point that Leah finally sits up. You’re not sure what to expect, but she opens her arms, pulling you into a hug. You let out a surprised huff, sinking into her arms with ease.

“It’s fine, I’m not mad. I was just taken by surprise. Thank you for feeling comfortable enough to be yourself around me.”

If you thought you couldn’t love Leah more, you were wrong.

She leans back a little bit, a smile on her face. “This doesn’t change anything, okay? You’re still my goofy girlfriend who really needs to learn to hang up her towels after showering and put away her clothes in her closet. You being a big star doesn’t make a difference to me.”

You giggle at her reference to things she’s no doubt reminded you to do at least five times this week already. Leaning in, you press a soft kiss against Leah’s lips. She responds in kind, climbing back into your lap to deepen it.

Her fingers are playing at the hem of your shirt when she pulls back. You blink, feeling kissed dumb and a little dazed.

“While we’re sharing secrets…” Leah chews on the bottom of her lip.

Your eyebrow raises, knowing Leah’s tell.

“Have you ever searched me up on the web?”

“Should I?” You’ve never made it a habit to look anyone up in your life that didn’t give you a reason to. Being in the public eye yourself, you thought it best to let everyone have the privacy they deserve. But the way Leah suddenly can’t meet your eyes tells you maybe you should’ve looked your girlfriend up a while ago.

Reaching off to the side, Leah grabs her phone from where it’s sitting on the cushion next to you. After fiddling with it a bit, she passes you her phone without a word, google already pulled up.

You’re a bit confused when her name autofills as you’re typing it in. And when you hit search…

You gasp.

When you end up meeting Leah’s friends later that week, they all get a kick out of the fact that neither of you knew the other was famous.

---

When Leah breaks up with you, it comes out of the blue.

It only comes back in flashes when you try to remember it.

Leah packing her bags.

“I need to focus on the Euros. Being captain is… it’s a lot. And I just can’t do this right now.”

You trying to convince her to stay.

“Leah, I love you. I want to help you any way I can. Let me be here for you.”

Words falling on deaf ears on both sides.

The door closing shut with a startling finality.

The rings neither of you end up using seems to mock the silence left behind.

---

The tickets have been lying there ever since the break up.

It’s hard to miss how well the Lionesses have been doing. Everywhere you turn there’s at least five people buzzing about the nation’s team and how they’re dominating the European tournament.

You’re not daft. Of course you’ve been following their journey yourself. Thinking of Leah hurt, but trying to block all of her from your life hurt even more.

So you watch everything play out through the screen. As England progresses through each stage, as Leah gets one step closer to reaching her goal.

You could never blame Leah for following her dream. Hell, you’ve been to enough of her games, both club and country, to show how much you support it, support her.

But the tickets you got from what now feels like eons ago stay unused and collect dust sitting on your shelf. Supporting Leah is one thing. Seeing her in person? You’re a little masochistic, but you’re not that masochistic.

The announcer’s excited shout has you lifting your eyes. You look up just in time to see Georgia rocket the ball past the keeper. The crowd goes wild but the only person you can focus on is Leah.

There’s a look of pure joy and pride on the blonde’s face as she runs towards Georgia. Her shout is unintelligible through the screaming of the crowd, but Leah briefly lifts the midfielder in celebration.

And it’s this image of her elated face, a little tired but all the more determined that has you reaching for your notebook.

When the first word falls, the rest come spilling out.

You’ve written pages by the time your eyes grow tired and hands grow stiff.

---

You’re so nervous you might throw up. You’ve counted to ten three times already, but nothing you do can calm your nerves.

When you first asked Leah out on a date, you didn’t think she was going to accept. But she did. And here you are now, at the local carnival.

The date started out pretty well if you say so yourself. She blushed when you gave her a bouquet of flowers before you set out, complimented you a couple times on the drive over, in all honesty, this has been one of the best dates you’ve had in a long while.

At least it had been until this moment.

You rub your hands up and down your jeans, trying to get the nervous sweat off of them.

“It’s just five bottles. You’ll do fine.”

You don’t even bother giving Leah a look. “I’m going to win you that bear if it’s the last thing I do.”

You give yourself a small running start.

The ball doesn’t make it anywhere close to the pyramid.

When you turn back around, shoulders a little slumped, Leah’s trying to stifle her giggles.

When the two of you had walked past the booth earlier, you didn’t miss the brief look of interest on her face. You were quick to jump at the opportunity to impress her.

Leah looked a little uneasy when you asked if she wanted to get the giant bear hanging from the prize section, but the look quickly faded when you offered to play the game. “It’s just kicking a football. How hard can knocking down some bottles be?”

For someone who’s never touched a football, you’d like to say you did a decent job. At least it went in the direction you desired.

Leah steps towards you, briefly rubbing your back and giving you a “sorry” that sounds more amused than genuine. You’re ready to poke fun right back at her, but she picks up the second football sitting off to the side.

All she gives you is a simple wink before striking the ball.

Your mouth’s hanging open when Leah comes back with her newly acquired bear, a light skip in her steps.

“Wha-- how?!”

There’s something sheepish in her smile. “Just pure luck.”

You don’t believe her for a second. But the giant stuffed bear that dwarfs Leah makes her look cute beyond compare.

“You’re lucky you’re so cute.”

Her arm hooks around your hip, pulling you into her side. She presses a kiss against your cheek. “Good to know I can get away with things simply because I’m cute.”

You should’ve known you’d be a goner from the start.

---

She should feel at the top of the world. They won. The Lionesses fucking won the Euros.

But the feeling that’s been there ever since she broke up with you still haunts Leah’s every move.

The celebrations pass in a blur. If she’s being honest, Leah doesn’t think they ever stopped. But when she wakes the next morning, she’s expecting the feelings to finally break through. The relief that breaking things off with you was all worth it.

Her guilt only intensifies.

By the time Leah trudges into the conference room, the team’s already milling about. Beth slides into the seat next to Leah seconds after she sits, handing the captain a perfectly made cup of coffee. Leah mumbles her thanks, rubbing tiredly at her eyes.

Beth strikes up a very light conversation, and Leah can’t help but get the feeling that the blonde is working herself up to ask Leah something. Seconds before the defender is about to ask Beth point blank what’s up, Beth finally says what she’s been itching to ask all morning.

“Did you hear the song?” Beth’s leaning forward with her elbows rested on her knees, staring at Leah in earnest.

Leah shakes her head, not liking the attention being put on her and not really knowing exactly what the woman is referring to. “What song?”

“(Y/N)’s new single.”

Leah stops mid-sip.

Leah wishes she could say she hasn’t thought about you since leaving your place all those months ago. She wishes she could say she doesn’t wake up feeling like something’s missing every day, like she’s made the worst decision in her life.

It definitely makes it easier to pretend everything’s okay when she hides every trace of you from sight. Leah’s got all of the things she accidentally took that were yours stored in a box in the back of her closet. She has your socials all muted, knowing it’s better to not know how you are than to risk the chances of seeing you doing better than her.

The team definitely caught on early after the break up. You had gotten close to many of the other girls, so they quickly realized something was wrong when Leah stopped talking about you and you stopped coming by to practices like you always did. Everyone was careful not to bring you up in front of the defender anymore. At least they were until Beth.

The fact that you released a song on the same night the Lionesses made history piques her interest. It definitely doesn’t seem like a coincidence, or at least not something Leah can scratch off to chance.

By now Beth’s face has grown a little panicked, the nervous eyes periodically darting around Leah’s face telling the defender all she had to know about Beth’s well-intended question. The attacker obviously thought that Leah had already known about the song. But if the shocked look on Leah’s face and the way she’s desperately trying to pull up her spotify and slide in her airpods are any indication, then no, she has not in fact heard your new single.

Leah doesn’t even make it a minute into the song before the tears start falling.

The song’s so obviously about her. The rawness in your voice as you sing about the things she loves, about the high and lows of your relationship, about how you treated her then.

How she wishes you’d still treat her now, comes the automatic thought.

It makes Leah freeze, body going numb.

Oh my god. I still want her to love me.

The room’s gone silent by the time Leah’s done listening to the song. The other girls have all seemed to pick up on her change in mood, giving the defender a wide berth.

She hastily rubs at her eyes, nose stinging from her runny nose.

Leah plucks out the airpods with shaky hands, only barely slotting them back into their case.

She’s like a madwoman then. Pushing her chair out, pulling on her jacket, grabbing her bag.

“Hey, where are you going?” Keira shouts after her, looking confused as Leah books it towards the door.

“No time to explain, I just-- I need to go.”

No one stops Leah when she slips out.

---

There’s been an annoying tune stuck in your head all day.

You had stayed up all night, chasing the ghost of melodies in your head, scribbling away in your notebook as you tried to get your thoughts down on paper. But no matter how hard you tried, none of it seemed right.

It was nearing four am when you called it a bust and hit the sack. You woke up at eight to five angry voicemails from your manager, a raging headache, and an overwhelming urge to pack your bags and leave your life behind.

Instead, you type back a curt response, shut off your phone, and leave your house. Dressed in a pair of aviators, a ball cap, and the largest hoodie you could find, you hope that you can escape this day unscathed. The paparazzi haven’t been hard to miss, lingering around all of the usual areas you frequent. Hopefully your incognito gear will allow you a bit of air.

The bell above the door rings when you softly nudge it open. It isn’t until the door is fully shut behind you that you peel off your sunglasses. To your delight, the cafe seems to be fairly empty, only a couple of people milling around the tables near the back. Tucking your sunglasses inside your hoodie, you pull your cap further down on your head, fully intending to head towards the counter.

Only you don’t make it two steps before running into a pretty solid body and bouncing off them.

“Woah, hey.” A strong set of arms grab at your waist, steadying you before you can go crashing towards the ground.

Internally you’re cursing at yourself. You can’t even go get a simple cup of coffee without fucking it up. Maybe your manager was right when she was raging on you about needing to treat you like a child earlier.

“I’m sorry, I--” Your words die off when you look up to see the prettiest woman you’ve ever seen only inches from your face.

Taking your sudden silence as discomfort of your close proximity, her face flushes. “Oh, sorry, just let me,” she steps back, arm leaving your waist when she’s sure you’re not going to fall over.

It’s a bit embarrassing how much you miss her touch the second it’s gone.

You nervously scratch at your neck, knowing that you’re profusely blushing by now. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you.”

The blonde smiles. The sight of her pearly whites only makes your palms feel even more clammy. “Hey, it’s no sweat, really. I’m alright, you’re alright, I still have my coffee. There’s really nothing to apologize for.”

Your eyes drop to her now half-empty iced coffee. She follows your line of sight, blushing when she notices that her coffee did not in fact come out unscathed.

“Okay, you’re alright and I’m alright, that’s all that really matters.”

Her grin makes you feel things that you know you definitely should not be feeling right now.

“Let me buy you another cup of coffee. It’s the least I can do.”

She shakes her head, waving you off. “No, no, don’t worry about it, it’s fine.”

You’re ready to argue back, insist that you repay her for the coffee spilt, but she’s quick to cut you off again before you can. The smirk that slips onto her face shouldn’t be making her seem more attractive, but all you can think about is what it would be like to kiss her pink lips when she drawls out: “But there is another way you can make up for spilling my coffee.”

Your heart sinks. Here you go. You were a fool to think she wasn’t going to recognize you. You mentally prepare yourself for the request of an autograph and picture.

“Give me your name and number and I might consider us square.”

You blink.

Okay, not what you were expecting. But you could work with it.

Your first instinct is to decline. You can never be too sure about giving away your number to strangers. But something about the goofy smile on her face and carefree expression makes you want to do something stupid.

“I don’t make it a habit to give my name or number out to strangers.”

Her smile widens.

Your heart skips a beat when she sticks out a hand to you. “I’m Leah.”

And just like that, with just a simple handshake, you give your heart away.

#leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #Ace writes

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roger-paladino · 1 year

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This is still high on my to watch list!!

#mla0 #shaun andersen #stormy mla0 #MLAndersen0 #sorry this is just a quick one! Im not entirely sure how to draw these two or what their dynamic is >.<#ty for the request though!!#scribbles

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tinytinyblogs · 2 months

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Stray Kids Mafia Series: Felix

In the midst of the chaos and perilous circumstances, he unexpectedly spared your life, an action he had never taken for anyone else.

⚠Mention blood and gun, mafia theme⚠

Stray kids masterlist here

Your insights and reactions make these posts come alive. Love reblogs, comments, and all the good vibes welcome ✨

The red velvet banquette, usually avoided like a spilled martini on a first date, beckoned with unexpected allure tonight. Tonight was rebellion against the predictable, a whispered promise of "different" scribbled on the fluorescent bar lights. You perched on its cool edge, a tentative bird testing unfamiliar branches, a kernel of hope blooming in the concrete jungle of routine. Your gaze drifted to the crystal goblet on the bar, catching the neon strobe's prismatic dance. It winked and shimmered, a tiny disco ball reflecting the kaleidoscope of your own desires for change. Was this the chance you'd whispered about in silent prayers to the night sky? Was this the crack in the dam of habit, the beckoning of a current you'd never dared to ride? Surrounded by the chaos of a frantic nightclub, panic gripped your heart as the sudden sound of gunfire shattered the air. Screams pierced the night, and people scrambled for safety, their bodies colliding as fear turned to desperation. Overwhelmed by the sheer terror of the moment, you froze, your instincts urging you to find shelter amidst the chaos. Adrenaline surged through your veins you scanned the room for a place to hide. Running seemed like a futile attempt, your legs feeling heavy and unresponsive. With trembling hands, you sought refuge in the nearest alcove, your body curling into a protective ball as the cacophony of screams and panicked footsteps echoed around you. The tremor in the floorboards was a familiar language, a whispered rhythm beneath the symphony of the city.

You knew each creak, each groan, and the precise tremor that meant hurried footsteps. Tonight, however, the rhythm stuttered, followed by a sharp intake of breath. Someone had discovered your hiding place. Heart hammering against your ribs, you squeezed your eyes shut your heart pounded in your chest, threatening to burst from its confines, as you imagined the worst-case scenario: your own life hanging by a thread in this tumultuous night. Every nerve ending hummed with anticipation, waiting for the deafening crack that would signal your end. But the expected blast never came. Instead, a tense silence stretched, punctured only by the ragged rhythm of your own breath. Curiosity wrestled with fear, urging you to peek. With agonizing slowness, you cracked open an eyelid, then the other. A gun glinted menacingly in his hand, its metallic sheen a stark contrast against the crimson stain spreading across his shirt. He emerged from the gloom like a mirage, moonlight catching the pale sheen of his skin. Blood, you realized with a jolt, marred his cheekbone, a crimson stain against the alabaster canvas. Yet, even in the throes of chaos, even with a gun clutched tight in his hand, he was breathtaking. His blonde hair, long and tousled, fell in a mullet that somehow managed to be both rebellious and strangely delicate. It framed a face sculpted with an almost arrogant perfection, jawline sharp enough to cut diamonds, eyes the color of a stormy sea. He stood frozen, a tableau of lethal grace, every line of his body taut with tension.

As your eyes met his, you flinched, expecting the worst. The man, caught off guard by your unexpected presence, almost reacted impulsively, his finger hovering dangerously close to the trigger. Your gaze, drawn by an invisible magnetism, followed the cold metal to his hand, where a finger hovered impossibly close to the trigger. Tears, salty and warm, had already carved silent tracks down your cheeks, betraying the desperate scream trapped within your chest. Your throat, constricted by a primal fear, refused to let out a sound, your voice stolen by the terror that clawed at your insides. It felt as if your very being vibrated with an unheard plea, a silent cry for help that echoed only in the hollow chambers of your heart. However, something held him back, a flicker of humanity amidst the chaos that surrounded him your presence in this atmosphere of violence seems misplaced. He could see the terror in your eyes, a reflection of his own inner turmoil. He realized, in that fleeting moment, that the violence he had been a part of had spilled beyond his control, ensnaring innocent lives in its destructive wake. Lost in a haze of terror, you opened your eyes to find the man still frozen in his tracks, his gaze locked on yours. His deep voice, surprisingly calm amidst the chaos, echoed through the room. Your lungs finally released the breath you hadn't dared to exhale, a shaky torrent that escaped in a single, shuddering sob. The gun, once aimed with chilling precision at your heart, now hung limp at his side, the tip dipping almost apologetically towards the ground. His eyes, those storm-laden depths, searched yours with a bewilderment that mirrored your own.

He pivoted away, his back stiff and unyielding, like a fortress against the tidal wave of emotions threatening to break within him. His breath escaped in a sigh, heavy and laden with frustration. Why? Why should he feel this pang of regret, this sudden urge to shield you from the chaos he himself had unleashed? Spare your life? It was laughable, almost grotesque. He, the predator, the harbinger of violence, now grappling with the unthinkable notion of mercy for his prey. The discordant symphony of the ravaged nightclub, a twisted echo of its former revelry, pierced the suffocating silence. It was a rude awakening, a stark reminder of the carnage swirling outside the bubble of his internal conflict. The sound brought him crashing back to reality, forcing him to confront the consequences of his actions and the unexpected weight of your fragile presence. "Don't move. Stay exactly where you are. I'll clear this up. Don't come out until I get you." With that, he turned and disappeared into the mayhem. You had no idea who he was, only that he was one of the men involved in the shootout, evidenced by the gun still clutched in his hand. You remained rooted to the spot, feeling like a hummingbird caught in a sudden downpour. The blonde stranger with the gun was a whirlwind of contradictions, spitting gunfire one moment, offering hesitant mercy the next. His words hung heavy in the air, tinged with an unexpected vulnerability that left you both bewildered and wary.

The incessant thrum of gunshots continued, a macabre rhythm punctuated by the occasional scream. Logic screamed at you to run, to seek refuge in the labyrinthine darkness of the club. But movement seemed to invite disaster, like a butterfly fluttering into a spider's web. So, you stayed, a statue sculpted from fear, flinching with every deafening crack, your ears aching from the sonic assault. Then, silence. It descended with the suddenness of a curtain falling, leaving behind a ringing emptiness that pressed against your eardrums. Your breath hitched, caught in your throat like a trapped bird. You strained to hear, your very being attuned to the slightest whisper of sound. It came then, a footstep. Deliberate, heavy, it echoed through the shattered silence with an eerie familiarity. It was his step, exactly the same, carrying the weight of unspoken choices and fresh bloodshed. You squeezed your eyes shut, a silent prayer forming on your lips, but he was already there, standing over you, a new crimson bloom staining his cheek. Your gaze, drawn by a morbid fascination, landed on the stark evidence of violence etched across his abdomen. The crimson bloom staining his shirt spoke of a wound severe enough to send shivers down your spine. His voice, a rumble from the depths of his chest, broke the suffocating silence. "Come out," it commanded, the gruffness barely masking the pain twisting his features.

Hesitantly, you crawled into the open, limbs stiff with fear yet propelled by a morbid curiosity. As you rose to your feet, the question on your lips tumbled out before you could think. "Are you alright?" It felt absurd, a meaningless platitude against the backdrop of his obvious injury. He remained silent, the only confirmation of your question the flickering in his stormy eyes. Yet, there was an unexpected intensity in his gaze as he studied you, dissecting your features as if searching for answers in the moonlight's dim canvas. As you stepped into the sliver of light filtering through a shattered window, your form becoming tangible, his eyes narrowed, the unspoken question in their depths mirroring your own. "Felix! Are you alright?" The name resonated through the shattered silence, carried on the panicked breaths of a group of men rushing towards him. It struck a chord within you, a name whispered in hushed tones around back alleys and murmured beneath watchful eyes. Felix. The name of the city's shadow king, the maestro of the underworld, the man woven into the very fabric of fear. His voice, a low rumble from the depths of his chest, cut through your haze of morbid introspection. "We need to get out of here." The words snagged on your attention, dragging you back from the tangled threads of your own thoughts. You met his gaze, the stormy depths catching the moonlight, and realized those words had been directed at you.

"Their men will be here any minute," he added, a grim reminder that the fragile peace of this shattered nightclub wouldn't hold forever. The echo of gunshots still danced in the air, a chilling counterpoint to the frantic whispers and hurried footsteps around you. You followed in the wake of Felix, his hulking frame and loyal shadow of men carving a path through the wreckage of the nightclub. Each step crunched on shattered glass, a discordant soundtrack to your escape. Your heart hammered against your ribs, a hummingbird trapped in a cage of nerves. Escape, in the form of the cool night air and the quiet whisper of distant streets, beckoned. Yet, leaving felt like walking off a tightrope strung over a chasm, exhilaratingly terrifying. Were you a stray caught in their spotlight, a witness they might choose to silence, or something more? His voice, roughened by smoke and violence, broke the uneasy silence. "Get in my car." Eyes the color of a brewing storm locked with yours, their depths unreadable. The fresh air that should have cleansed your lungs felt stagnant, heavy with unspoken questions and the lingering acrid tang of gunpowder. Confusion warred with a reluctant curiosity. You were nobody in this world of theirs, a fleeting wisp in the hurricane of Felix's existence. So why the lingering glance, the unexpected offer? A hesitant shake of your head came before you could fully form the words. The puzzle pieces of this encounter refused to fit, leaving you adrift in a sea of bewilderment.

A low chuckle, unexpected and almost jarring, rumbled from Felix's chest. He swiped at a smear of blood drying on his cheek, the gesture almost casual, almost… charming. "Lovely," he drawled, the pet name catching you off guard. It sent a shiver down your spine, a dissonance against the steely glint in his eyes. His smile, when it came, was like a wolf baring its fangs in moonlight, both beautiful and unnerving. "Get in the car, sweetheart. Walking away? Not the brightest idea you've ever had." The wind, a mischievous imp, danced through your unbound hair, sending strands skittering across your cheek like ticklish whispers. His words, unexpectedly melodious against the backdrop of chaos, still reverberated in your ears: "I spared your life." The warmth of his voice, a stark contrast to the icy grip of fear, lingered on your skin. But the respite was fleeting. "And it's time you paid." His gaze, sharp as a falcon's, dipped to the crimson bloom staining his abdomen. The wound, a gruesome testament to the carnage that unfolded, tugged at the fragile cord of your composure. "Treat it," he commanded, his words carrying the weight of a king's decree. "You understand, sweetheart, a hospital isn't exactly my playground." The implication hung heavy, unspoken but undeniable. Knowing his identity was your invisible collar, binding you to this twisted game. A beat of silence, then his voice shifted, the harsh edges softening like melting ice. "And," he murmured, the word almost caress, "I need to know what made me rethink my initial decision, my lovely. What prompted me to spare a fly like you?"

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cowboydisaster · 1 year

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Aesthete

Aesthete (adj.) someone with deep sensitivity to the beauty of art or nature

repost, originally posted on 12 march 2023

pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

word count: 4.7k

summary: when Arthur finds himself with a lack of inspiration, you offer yourself as a blank canvas

a/n: this was inspired by a post I saw about canon Arthur v fandom Arthur. Essentially that he isn't just some dumb himbo, he's intelligent and creative/artistic and has a clearer world view than most. I cant find the original post/er, but if you know it please drop me a message!

taglist: @margofiore @mrsarthurmorgan7 @woman-with-no-name @luvliewriting @tillith @pine4pple-b0i @photo1030 @dudsparrow

warning: nsfw, 18+, minors dni (teeth rottingly fluffy, emotional smut)

"a work of art that did not begin in emotion is not art"- paul cèzanne

The rain is a steady, soothing thud on the roof, as you rest, sitting on Arthur’s bed at Shady Belle. It's a stormy day, with rain and lightning falling from the sky, painting everything in a gloomy gray hue. There are a few little puddles on the creaky, wooden floor from the broken window and the old roof, where water has leaked inside. You cherish days like this, days where you can huddle inside, wrapped in a thin blanket while reading a book. Now you are reading a relatively newer piece, Huckleberry Finn, while cozied up in Arthur’s bed. He sits opposite of you, against the footboard, while you are against the headboard. It’s a very comfortable silence, with only the rain and the thunder to break up the quiet afternoon.

Arthur is very focused in his journal, sketching and scribbling away at something on the ivory pages. His eyebrows are drawn together, and every few minutes he holds the journal at an arm’s length away, ensuring he has the correct perspective. The more he draws, the less interested you find yourself in your novel. Your eyes flicker from him, to your page, and you find that you’ve been so interested in what Arthur is doing that you’ve been stuck re-reading the same paragraph for nearly five minutes.

But can you blame yourself for being so easily distracted? Arthur is so detail oriented, so intelligent and creative. Very rarely does he allow people to see this vulnerable side of him, and you’ve been lucky enough to peek through the curtains into Arthur Morgan’s fragile, beautiful heart. He has a reputation among the gang of being thick headed and more of a brute than a thinker, and you chuckle at just how ignorant those opinions are. Arthur is one of the smartest men you know. He is an enjoyer of literature, although he prefers writing a novel rather than reading one, he is well versed in history and enjoys mythology. Arthur may not have gone to a school, or have fancy degrees on his wall, but he is a reteller of stories. Arthur soaks in the information he hears, and thinks over it heavily, oftentimes writing about it in his journal, like he is now.

His big hands have an expert grip on the charcoal as he sketches something, his face is contorted into a beautiful little confused pout as he tries to ascertain whether or not the perspective on this particular sketch is perfect. Your eyes trail from his hands up to his lips, the forbidden, soft lips that you dream about kissing at night. Oh, how you wish he was yours. You sigh, refocusing yourself and watching his hands. The curiosity becomes too great, and needing a distraction, you finally speak up.

“What are you drawin’?” You ask, leaning forward to try and catch a glimpse. He perks up at your voice, startled out of his deep focus. Before he responds, he runs his hand through his stubble in thought.

“Finishin’ up a sketch from a few days ago. Just this old church I found, ain’t nothin special.” Arthur responds, flipping the little book around to show you.

You recognize the church, he’s drawn a very good likeness. It’s the old, crumbling church just off the road from Shady Belle. The Lemoyne Raiders have been camping out there, and you recall Arthur stopping to inspect it when you’d rode past earlier. He’s perfectly captured the broken walls, and the way vines squeeze the old building like a cobra. You could step into the drawing, and never realize it wasn’t reality.

“Oh, Arthur, it's beautiful.” You whisper, noticing the attention to detail. Arthur has managed to capture the swaying of the grass, alongside birds taking flight off the roof of the building.

After some more inspecting of the intricate piece, you hand it back to him, smiling at the blush that colors his cheeks. He never was good at taking compliments. He continues the sketch, and you realize it's the first time you've seen him drawing in a while. Your eyebrows pull together as you try to think back to the last time you'd seen the outlaw with the book in his hands.

"I noticed you haven't been drawin' as much…?" You inquire, picking Huckleberry back up and glancing over the printed words before looking back up to him.

"Ain't easy findin' pretty things' in the swamp. Back when we was in Valentine, there was so much to draw, so many things caught my eye." Arthur whispers, never bringing his eyes away from the paper as he shades the windows with his charcoal. You toy with your lip, feeling that it's your time to finally bite the bullet and be brave. You take a deep breath, setting your book down again.

"So you draw beautiful things?" You ask, barely over a whisper. Your voice travels across the expanse of the bed like a breath on the wind.

Arthur finally looks up to you, green eyes locking onto yours as he thinks over the meaning behind your question. He leans back against the footboard, and brings his knee up to lean on.

"I- well yeah, mostly. I like to draw things how I find em, natural, beautiful and the like." Arthur responds, brushing through his beard with his hand while thinking of sketches of deer, flowers and birds, crumbled buildings and landscapes.

Arthur's heart stops when you stand up, slowly tip-toeing to the center of the room and turning to him. Your eyes are locked onto each other, nothing can be heard but quiet breaths and the patter of rain on the ceiling. Warm light caresses your face as you bring your hands up to your shirt, heart pounding.

"And… Do you think I'm beautiful…?" You ask, pulling your shirt out of your jeans so it's no longer tucked.

Arthur is frozen, shocked as his eyes glance between your own, laced with bravery and lust, and your hands which are slowly pulling your shirt out of your jeans. He swallows thickly, at a loss for words.

"Well a course- I think you're, you're very beautiful…"

Arthur's eyes are wide, his jaw open with shock, and cheeks pink as you unbutton your shirt. His face lasts only a moment before he schools himself, evening out his features to appear nonchalant.

"What are you uh…" Arthur clears his throat quietly, "What are you doin'?" Arthur asks, slipping his eyes closed and growling as your shirt hits the floor.

"Let me inspire you… in my natural state." You quote Arthur back to himself, unclasping your belt buckle and pulling the leather through the loops until the belt clunks to the floor. Your motions are slow, graceful, in the candlelight as you slowly hook your thumbs under your jeans and undergarments sliding them to the floor. Your jeans hit the floor with a thud, and as you step out of them, Arthur pulls out his journal.

Your body is beautiful. Perfect in his eyes. Round and curved, full and feminine. Your legs, your hips, your collarbones and breasts, all he can do is sink in this canvas that is your body for a few moments. His lack of inspiration is completely gone, and Arthur thinks that with an infinite amount of blank paper he could reference your body as art forever. He's never seen anything so beautiful, so enchanting. You seem to beam with a golden light, shadowing the v in between your thighs and the valley between your breasts. All he can do is stare, and all he can think about doing is taking the time to study every inch of your beauty.

"I…" Arthur stops, speechless as you pull an old ottoman from the corner of the room.

"How do you want me?" You whisper, glossy lips shining in the candlelight, and all Arthur can think about is kissing the perfect rosy petals.

"How do I- I want you?" Arthur asks, not understanding your question because he wants you in so many ways right now. You're nothing short of a goddess standing before him, an angel.

"Yeah," You chuckle, "pose me. However you think, you're the artist after all. Go on, it's okay." You encourage when Arthur is hesitant to touch you. He doesn't want to overstep a boundary, and he's terrified to touch you, to taint you with his hands that have been the cause for so many terrible things. He truly thinks that you deserve so much better than him, but he is a fool for it. Because he is all that you want.

With a nod, he comes over and helps you position yourself. He’s incredibly polite, of course he is, not wanting to touch you anywhere indecent even though you’ve just stripped in front of him. Your left leg is bent under you, and you sit under it, while your right is propped up at an angle, brought up almost to your chest. He positions your arm over the bottoms of your breasts, and your hand is placed on your shoulder. Once he steps back, checking that the position is to his liking, his fire hot touch leaves your skin.

“Good?” You ask, stretching your neck back so that your hair falls down your back, exposing your throat.

“Absolutely perfect…” Arthur whispers, sitting on the edge of the plush bed, just a few feet in front of you. He picks up his leather journal and the charcoal, turning to an empty page in the back of the book.

The sound of thunder, rain and charcoal against paper fill your head as your eyelids flutter, watching Arthur. Seeing him like this, so focused and in his element, is both heartwarming and incredibly attractive. He bites at his bottom lip, hyper focused, as he follows the slopes and planes of your body, perfectly transferring them onto the paper. He gets to your breasts, watching the goosebumps that trickle down your stomach and arms. His eyes are hot on you, studying you. You blush when he steps forward, gently brushing a stray hair away that had fallen in front of your shoulder, tucking it behind your ear so as to not obstruct the view of his model.

When he sits back down on the creaking bed, he crosses his ankle over his knee, leaning back to get another perspective before resting his journal on his calf. He resumes his sketching, and his eyes linger on you before every stroke of the charcoal. Arthur watches the charcoal trace the lines of your hips, your thighs and your breasts onto the paper, and more than anything, he wishes that it was his lips tracing your skin, instead of the charcoal. The sound of the rain is soothing, and the thunder is one and the same as the pounding of your heart when Arthur’s eyes linger on your lips, your body. Heat lightning flashes the sky through the broken window with warm tones of orange as a shiver runs down your spine, though you are far from cold.

Arthur really focuses now, leaning into his journal, glancing up and down frequently to capture the tiny details of you, some of his favorites. Like the little flyaways of hair, slightly frizzy from the heat that falls around your face, the freckles on your skin, the scars and stretch marks, the imperfections that color you. Once he’s finished, he leans back, eyeing both you and the journal before writing your name at the bottom, all capital as if a title.

“Alright, should be done.” Arthur whispers, leaning forward to hand you off his journal.

You take the heavily used book, and look at the mirror-like reflection on the pages. Arthur has captured you perfectly. You look up to his green eyes, with tears. He’s drawn you in his journal as if you are the most gorgeous of any of the sights his eyes have seen, because you are. Every detail is perfect.

“Arthur, this is incredible.” You praise, completely truthful. He is a wonderful artist, and doesn’t give himself enough credit. You stand up, and fold his journal carefully closed before sitting down on the bed beside him. Your hand meets his knee, and boldly you look up at him just hoping. You’ve been head over heels for the man for some time now, and if there was ever a time to bring it up, it's now.

“Arthur I'm gonna ask you somethin’ and I want you to be honest with me, yeah?”

Arthur is sincere, maybe worried as his eyebrows draw together and he places his hand overtop of yours.

“Of course, anythin.” Arthur says, quietly.

You look down at your bare lap, gathering courage that causes your heart to pound in your ears before glancing back up.

“I… Do you want me?” You ask, words hanging heavy in the air as you wait for a response. But much to your embarrassment, Arthur doesn’t give you one. He looks into your eyes, glancing around with his jaw open slightly. He opens and closes it a few times, as if he can’t find the words he's searching for. After a few moments, you hang your head, blushing and feeling like a goddamn fool, because you’ve overstepped and he doesn’t want you.

“Oh, I see. I’m so sorry, Arthur, I’ve misstepped terribly.” You mumble, shame and embarrassment starting to drag you down. You can’t bear to look at him as you stand up to grab your clothes and leave.

As you do, his hand grabs onto your own.

“Darlin’ wait-” Arthur pleads, and his eyes are overflowing with emotion as he sits back down onto the bed, holding your hands in his. For a moment, you feel hopeful, maybe you were wrong, and your best friend who you are desperately in love with, wants you back.

“I aint so good with my words sometimes. Always been better at writin’ my feelins rather than sayin’ em out loud.” Arthur says, eyes locked onto your conjoined hands before trailing up your torso to those beautiful eyes.

“I want you. God- more than anything, I want you, sweetheart,” he pauses, brushing another stray hair behind your ear, “But I want you to understand that this isn’t about just layin’ together.” He continues, and tears well up in your eyes at his words because your feelings are being reciprocated and he's all you’ve ever wanted.

“You see I want what's tucked away in here,” Arthur whispers, pointing to the left side of your chest, right over your heart, “and I love what’s in here.” Arthur smiles, tapping your temple.

“Do I want you? Yeah, I do, sweetheart. But I want all a’ you. Your heart, your mind, your body… God- I've been sweet on you longer than I care to admit.” Arthur squeezes your hand before running his thumb under your jaw, and pulling your chin up so he can look into your teary eyes, “and well, when you asked me to draw you just now, sayin’ yes was easier than breathin’ because darlin’ you are the art. I just had to transfer that beauty onto paper.”

You lean in, pressing your forehead against his own. His big, warm hand cups your jaw, and you feel as if you could melt into his touch. You want nothing more than to be enveloped by him, to have him in every way possible, because you want him too. His beautiful, creative mind, his soft heart with so many walls around it, and you've crumbled them all to nothing more than shattered ramparts. You’ve broken him, and rebuilt him back into the man he is now, changed him forever with your heart.

He pulls you closer until your lips meet his own. It's shy at first, two strangers meeting in a coy peck. But the familiarity comes soon, because this is Arthur, and you find yourself clinging to him, like if you let go he may disappear, or bottle back up and you can’t lose him now. You open your mouth for him, letting him in to intertwine his tongue with your own as the kiss grows more passionate. He tastes like whiskey and tobacco and Arthur, and it's too much as tears silently fall down your cheeks. Arthur pulls away for a moment, smiling softly as his thumb brushes away your tears.

“It’s rainin, we have all day…” You smile as his eyes run over your face.

“That we do,” Arthur whispers, kissing your temple before pulling away again, “Y’know… I've had gold and silver, horses, and books worth more than this estate, but darlin’ I ain’t never had anything in my hands that was as beautiful, or as priceless, as you.” He says before leaning into your neck, kissing your pulsepoint and your collarbone. His hands toy with your breasts, running over the soft skin until your nipples harden and you lean into him.

“Oh, Arthur,” You whimper, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into you further.

“You’re perfect.” Arthur nibbles at the flesh of your earlobe before whispering against your skin, “My blank canvas.”

Your hands come to either side of his face, pulling his gaze up to your eyes.

“Then make me art, Arthur… mark me, have me, please I need you.” you whimper, pulling him down to your lips again, and savoring the feeling that you’ve been aching for for so long. As soon as the kiss breaks, he caresses your cheek. Again, the only sound is the rain and the thunder. His lips are swollen from where yours have left kisses, and you decide it's your favorite sight.

“Sweetheart, I already told you. You are art, but markin’ you? Havin’ you? Now that I can do just fine.” Arthur whispers against your flush skin, illuminated as lightning flashes in the distance.

Everything makes sense, everything falls into place, when his lips crash against yours again. They are no longer shy, but needy and loving, lustful and wanting. Your hands reach to the buttons of his shirt as he lays you down on the bed, making sure the pillow under your head is comfortable before moving his lips to your neck. Once you’ve undone the buttons, he leans away to pull it off of his arms, throwing it to the side. It lands on the bedside table, knocking over a container of ink that spills onto the floor. You gasp, leaning up to inspect the damage, as Arthur anchors you, pushing you back down to the bed with his kisses.

“It’s okay, it's alright, we’ll clean it up later sweetheart.” Arthur shushes, and you melt back into your state of euphoria with him between your legs. His lips caress your own as his hand swirls your nipple, toying with the hardened peak before it trails down to your hip.

“I'm gonna touch you, okay?” Arthur whispers against your lips as another quiet rumble of thunder sounds out. You nod, spreading your legs for Arthur as he adjusts himself on top of you, leaning his weight on his forearm.

“Please Arthur-” You beg as he trails his fingers down your knee to your inner thigh before running his fingers along your folds. He stops, and groans lightly, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Shit- you’re so wet. I'm sorry, darlin’ it's been awhile since I-” Arthur starts, but you lean up, pressing a kiss against his lips before whispering to him.

“It’s okay… been awhile for me too.”

He nods against your forehead, kissing it before continuing. You spread your legs even more for him, and he sinks two fingers into your pulsing heat. Immediately, your grip on him tightens, and you whimper, eyes squinted shut as he slowly works you open.

“Shh…shh… that’s my girl.” Arthur coos, stretching you with his fingers as you cling to him, gasping for breath at the way he touches you like you’re his canvas, his masterpiece, and the more he caresses, kisses and touches, the more beautiful you become underneath him. He didn’t think it was possible for your appearance to become any more entrancing, but as you moan, arching your back so that your breasts find release against his chest, he finds that he was wrong.

He curls his fingers inside you rhythmically, pressing down right in the perfect spot before gently stroking your clit with his thumb. It's a delirious combination, and the only thing anchoring you from ascending to the heavens, is him.

“That’s it, darlin’. Let it go, let me watch you unfold.” Arthur whispers, keeping a steady pace with his hands while kissing your stomach, up to your breasts. He begins to lick at your breast, swirling his tongue over your stiff nipple and kissing your skin every chance he gets. It proves to be your undoing, and just as the rain pounds on the roof even harder, and thunder sounds out, you find your release. Your nails dig into Arthur’s back as you reach your climax, the building coming in waves that have you gasping for breath and moaning.

“Arthur-” leaves your lips in a mantra as you clamp down on his fingers, the waves of your orgasm washing over you and drowning you in the most indescribable, emotional show of affection. You see stars, flashes of bright white as you gasp and shake, hanging onto the man who you love.

“Good girl,” Arthur whispers, kissing your forehead a few times as you come down from your high.

“Real good, darlin.” Arthur coos, sinking his fingers into you until he has completely drawn out your release. Once your back stops arching, and hits the bed again, you pull his face down to yours once more. His hand cups your neck, and you feel your juices on his fingers as he runs his hand from your neck to your jaw, holding it while he kisses you again. His forehead meets yours as you whine.

“I need- Arthur, I need to feel you, please.” You cry, hands running down the muscles of his chest, down the trail of sandy blonde hair that runs down below his jeans. You pop the button open, biting your lip as you press the palm of your hand against the pressure there. Arthur releases a deep groan, thrusting involuntarily against your hand.

He leans down, kissing your nose with a smile before standing up and shedding his jeans to the ground. He steps out of them, and you prop yourself up on your elbow to admire him.

Arthur is big. A bit longer than average, but he is girthy and thick. You scan over his rosy head, and the vein that bulges from the underside of his shaft. And as you follow up the trail of hair, to Arthur’s chest and face, he sees the worry. It’s been a long time, and truthfully you’re not very experienced with this. You don’t know if you can take him, but god, you want to.

“Arthur I… you’re beautiful.” You whisper, watching the flex of his muscles in the candlelight, the soft, light hair that falls into his face as he chuckles, looking down to hide his smile.

“Beautiful? Really?” Arthur asks, sarcastically.

“Yes, Arthur, beautiful.”

He shakes his head, not agreeing with you really, as he comes back down to the bed. He rests himself between your legs again, kissing your thigh, then your hip… and so on until he reaches those plump, bruised lips.

“You ready? You still want this sweetheart?” Arthur asks, massaging the tender skin of your thigh as you breath out shakily. You nod, but he senses the trepidation and doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable.

“What is it?” He asks, pulling away from your lips to look into your eyes. He sees you smile, blushing before wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Be gentle, please. You’re- well you’re big Arthur and I really want this…” You whisper, chuckling at yourself for a second.

“I’ll be gentle, okay? N if it hurts, you tell me. Right away.” Arthur says, almost darkly. He does not want you putting up with any pain for his sake. You nod, before leaning into his chest and wrapping your hands around his neck. Your legs, around his waist, spread a bit more and you feel his head against your entrance. Slowly, Arthur thrusts into you, and everything you were worried about shatters to the ground. God- he feels so good. And before he's fully in, you feel so full, and so stretched. You’ll never get enough of this, you realize. It’s perfect, like two puzzle pieces fitting together as he enters to the hilt and you moan as he bumps your sensitive spot.

“You okay?” Arthur asks, stopping his hips completely, and you dig your heel into his ass, begging him to do anything but stop.

“Move, Arthur, please. Oh, you feel so good.” You whimper, your hips rising to meet Arthur’s as he thrusts into you. Your moans mix with Arthur’s groans and the thunder, and it’s all washed away by the rain. Not a peep can be heard from outside, but inside the room there is so much raw emotion, lust and love, that even the air feels like it's intruding on you two.

“Shit, sweetheart.” Arthur growls, thrusting into you with more rhythm now that he knows you’re okay. The stretch is the perfect mixture of pleasure and pain that has you inching towards a climax. He kisses your lips, and you lean up to meet him halfway. The kiss is hot and passionate, with gasps for air in between and moans as you two commit the rawest act of love known to man. He rocks against you, swaying you with his hips. The pleasure combined with the emotion of him finally against you is overwhelming. You’ll never be closer, more whole than you are like this. He’s with you. The tightness in your stomach pulls, stretching and coiling all the like until it snaps. Once again, Arthur is your anchor, rocking you, and steadying you as you completely come undone beneath him. You constrict around him, muscles tightening and contracting as an intense wave of pleasure washes over you. Your moans are loud, breathy as you release the tension he’s created within you. It’s too much for Arthur, and as you squeeze around him, he thrusts into you a few times, hard and deep before he cums inside you, filling you completely with his seed.

“You did so well, darlin. You’re so beautiful…” Arthur whispers, kissing your forehead before placing a long, slow kiss on your lips. He stays there for a moment, letting you catch your breath before sliding out of you. He lands on the bed beside you, and you curl up against his chest.

“Arthur?” You ask, placing your hand on his chest and cuddling further into him. He takes a sheet from the bottom of the bed, pulling it over you until you’re decent.

“What is it sweetheart?” Arthur asks, brows furrowed as he runs his hand along your arm and watches the rise and fall of your body against his.

“Did you mean it? Everything you said before…” You ask, propping your chin up to look into his eyes. He runs his hand up and down your back, soothing you while smiling.

“Course I did.” Arthur whispers, leaning down to press another kiss to your forehead.

“I… I love you, y’know.” You whisper back, leaning your head against his chest, too nervous to look into his eyes. Arthur only chuckles, pulling your head closer to his chest with his hand.

“I know, and I love ya too.”

The rest of the rainy day is spent in various forms of affection. You and Arthur lay together all day, whether sleeping or not, reading and drawing or just holding each other. Everything seems right now. Like for the first time in your life you’ve found your purpose, your person. He is your other half, your strength, your ecstasy, and he loves you too, your little aesthete.

#arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x y/n #arthur morgan x you

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