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atlaswav · 1 year

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LOST WITHOUT YOU ☆

INFO: 2812 words, Alhaitham x gn!reader, a little mildly suggestive content (16+) SYNOPSIS: after focusing your whole life on studies and beating Alhaitham, you find that you've lost yourself, and you don't know how to put yourself back together. AUTHOR'S NOTE: this is so rushed and bad but the ideas just kept flowing out and suddenly I wrote a whole short story 😓 (unedited pls lmk if u find errors! likes and reblogs also very much appreciated!!!)

It was never a competition – not to him, at least.

Him, with his cold, unwavering demeanour and even colder, unshakable gaze.

It never was a competition, but to you, everything was. You hated it all. You hated his expression, permanently arranged in disdain, and his withering glare. That look that he always gave you, always the same, blank stare.

Above all, you loathed his overwhelming sense of self importance. He carried himself with such an air that you felt absolutely unremarkable next to him, and in your drunken wishes, you yearned for him to be put in his place.

Wishful drinking, you called it, and such was suited to a night like this. The night before receiving the results for your final exams, the only one that really mattered in your seemingly futile quest to outshine Alhaitham.

Your roommates were fully aware of your infatuation, though you wouldn’t call it that. They teased you for locking yourself up in your room while they went out socialising and bar streaking, most often returning with the reek of alcohol staining their clothes, passing out on the couch.

They thought you weren’t a drinker, too, but truthfully, you only saved drinking for important occasions, and this seemed like an occasion important enough. With a flair for dramatic, you had claimed yet another bottle of cheap wine off the kitchen counter before retreating to your room, several glances of concern and curiosity following you down the hallway. Seated on the miniature balcony, you twisted open the cap on the bottle, wincing at the wine’s harsh bitterness as time slipped by, minutes blurring into hours with hushed murmurs outside your door.

They cared, they really did. But you couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge them, not with your thoughts too occupied with outdoing Alhaitham to amount to anything substantial. Your roommates already thought you were a studying fanatic – those looks of concern weren’t a first time occurrence as you trudged up the stairs with the wine in tow. You didn’t care enough to correct or reassure them – though were they wrong?

You hardly left the house enough, if it weren’t for classes and your job, you’d be a hermit. It felt suffocating, sometimes, the life you’d given yourself. Though ahead in all other aspects, you couldn’t help but feel like you were falling behind. Everyone was falling in love, while you fell behind, caught in the grinding cycle of academics and validation.

Melancholic and dramatic, you were, when you were drunk. Though others may be hopeless romantics.

“[name]? Someone’s here to see you.” Your roommate knocks on your door.

You don’t glance over your shoulder as the knocking becomes more insistent. “No thanks.”

“May I come in?” A familiar voice echoes from down the hallway. Your hand freezes halfway to the bottle.

The door creaks open, and you turn around, slowly standing up and steadying yourself on the railing. Alhaitham stands in the doorframe, only his silhouette visible through the light pouring in through the hallway.

You’re suddenly far too aware of your pyjama pants and well worn hoodie, folding your arms across yourself. “Why are you here?”

He stands there for a while, completely still. Then he sighs. “I don’t know.” Stepping across the threshold, he starts to close the door behind him.

“I didn’t say you could come in,”

“Sorry.” He says. After a brief silence, he leaves.

You stand there, confused, with unspoken questions hanging in the air.

Then, the door opens again.

You’d never seen him so unsteady before, gaze darting around the room and a flush high on his cheeks. His Emerald eyes are bright as he steps into the dim light of your room. “I have to come in.”

You frown at him in confusion. “Why are you here?”

The moment doesn’t seem real as he crosses the room, joining you on the balcony. Quiet lingers around the two of you as you give up asking for his motive and simply reassume your position at the railing. Maybe you’re too tired or burnt out to care, but as he hesitantly joins you, casting you indiscreet side glances, you offer him the bottle.

A show of camaraderie, perhaps.

He shakes his head, and you take a swig from the bottle, yourself, before setting it back on the low, rusty coffee table.

He fidgets with his hands, turning the ring on his index finger over and over. It clicks with the ring on his other finger, occasionally, resonating an irritating ticking noise.

“Can you stop? What do you want?” You finally outburst, startling him. Alhaitham faces you now, entirely focused on you. But his usual look of casual disdain is gone, and you’re not sure you recognise the man staring at you.

His features bathed in moonlight, his gaze looks softer than it ever had before. The soft breeze brushes his hair across his forehead, and you can’t help but wonder how soft they’d feel to your touch.

“I want you,”

Before you can fully register his reply, he draws you in, one hand reaching around your waist, another reaching softly into your hair, and kisses you.

You fail to register anything at all – all other sensation is irrelevant with the sheer feeling of the warmth of his lips on yours. It feels so wrong, but you can’t bring yourself to pull away.

It’s intoxicating. He tastes like wine.

He withdraws, expression blank again.

“What?” You utter, and abruptly, as if snapping out of a stance, he flees your room with such rapidity that you have to consider whether or not it was all a dream. As his footsteps echo down the hallway, you run a hand through your hair, tousled by his touch, snatch the bottle from its place and drink deeply.

–

The autumn chill drifts in the air. Other students dawdle about on the lawns, boisterous laughter echoing across the courtyard. Your class sits in solemn silence. You with your ringing head in your hands, and him with his back turned to everyone, focused on the lecture hall’s door.

When you woke that morning, the morning after that, you were insistent on believing that it was a dream. But the empty bottle lying on the balcony and the ring on the ground said otherwise.

You turn the metal ring over in your pocket, running a finger over the miniature inscriptions on the inside.

‘Empathy, the double-edged sword’

You’d been fretting over how to return the ring, avoiding the primary subject on your mind – overshadowed with the return of the test papers.

The minutes tick by in anxious silence until the door bursts open with a professor whose arms are filled with papers.

If it weren’t for the pounding hangover, you’d be laughing at the anticlimactic atmosphere. The professor grumbles under his breath as he hands out the exam papers and results, not offering a general comment on the class’ results.

He reaches Alhaitham, and gives him the pleased look he always gives him. The class launches into whispers of speculation.

The professor’s walk down the aisles of chairs seems like it takes forever, and you have half a mind to snatch the stack of papers out of his hands and wildly search for yours.

Until he stops in front of you.

A slight smile as he hands the paper to you.

“Well done.”

A perfect score.

Over your shoulder, someone announces it to the entire class.

Alhaitham meets your eyes with a soft smile and a nod. A ninety nine is hastily scrawled onto the front page with red ink.

Relief; Your heart and head feel light, but your stomach is filled with butterflies. It should feel liberating, but you’re unsure what – how – to feel. The past few years had led up to this moment, but it doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel like you thought it would, like the victory you’d hoped it would’ve been.

As quick as it was, your relief is gone, quickly replaced by a sinking feeling of foreboding as you walk out of the classroom, congratulations falling on deaf ears.

–

It’s midnight, again, and you’re awake, tossing another empty bottle into the corner to join the others.

Your roommates were overjoyed for you, they cooked you a celebratory dinner, toasted to your success, and teased you about going clubbing with them that night. Yet you turned them down like you always did, because nothing felt right anymore.

That gaping hole in your heart, previously haphazardly filled with academics, now felt like a great, yawning chasm with no bottom in sight.

Your entire purpose had been fulfilled, and you had a bright future with job offers lying in your emails, untouched, but it didn’t feel complete.

You realised that you lost yourself.

In trying to become better than someone else, you’d lost yourself, and you didn’t know how to find a way back.

“[name], we’re going out, are you sure you don’t want to join us?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

A slight pause. “Okay. Also, your friend from before is at the front door. Should I let him in?”

You vividly recall the intoxicating, wine stained taste of Alhaitham’s lips against your own, the sensation of his fingers tangling in your hair, and his hand bracing your waist on this very balcony. The ring sits in your pocket, the tiny scrap of metal heavier than ever – a burning weight.

“Sure. Send him up here.” You manage.

Melancholic and dramatic were a few of the things you were when you were drunk, but you were also known to have made horrifyingly bad decisions.

You hear your roommate walk down the hallway and down the stairs. You hear the front door open and close. You take the ring out of your pocket and start turning it over in your hands, pacing around your balcony all the while.

A knock on your door, and you snap to attention, waiting a while before weakly calling for him to enter.

The door slowly creaks open, and his silhouette fills the doorframe. He leans against it, seemingly unsure of whether or not to fully enter.

A long silence ensues.

“Are you here to take your ring back?” You start, holding it out.

“Oh. Yeah.” But he doesn’t cross the room. So you do. You walk toward the door, stepping into the light of the hallway as he steps back.

His cheeks are flushed, gaze darting and fleeting.

With more daring than you’d ever displayed, you grab his hand and slide the ring back on, marvelling at his fingers – long, slender, pale. Pretty. A scholar’s hands.

“Thanks.” He murmurs, looking up from your hands, meeting your eyes for the first time.

The soft look is back again.

“Congratulations, by the way.” He starts, removing his hands from yours. “Professor said we were going to share valedictorian.”

You nod, suddenly immensely uncomfortable. “Not surprised.”

He nods as well, seemingly sheepishly, muttering something under his breath that you don’t catch.

“What was that?”

“Kaveh said that if I don’t tell you tonight, he’d tell you himself.”

“Well tell him that I said thanks.”

He rubs his face with his hand, exasperated. “No, not congratulations,”

“Then what?”

He gives you a long look.

“Are you going to stare at me all night?”

“Archons, I don’t know what you do to me.” He takes your face in his hands and brings your lips to his.

It all feels so right. Alhaitham tastes just as intoxicating as he did the first time, only now, there’s a fervour behind his movements. The cherry wine on his lips is exhilaratingly rich. You could get drunk off his taste alone.

His hands boldly move down your body, leaving a trail of goosebumps on your skin – in return, your hands wander his torso, teasingly skimming the skin beneath his shirt. He shudders, pulling away, although the sheer intensity of his gaze tells you that he won’t be leaving you this time.

“Does that tell you what I'm here to tell you?”

“Might have to explain a little more,” You rasp, catching your breath.

Some sort of restraint within his self control snaps, and he pushes you into your room, locking your door behind you.

In light of what happened after that, you were tremendously grateful that your roommates had left to go clubbing.

–

Neither of you were sure what it was.

The morning after, he’d left before you woke up. Rather than feeling betrayed, you appreciated his absence, as it gave you time to gather your scattered, alcohol imbued thoughts.

It soon became a regular thing, where he’d stop by your shared house – that you’d never given him the address to (although he later explained that he got it from Kaveh) – to see you. It wasn’t always a hook up, sometimes he dropped by in the middle of the day if you were around, and made conversation.

The first few nights, however, were actively avoided. He would always hurriedly change the topic or avoid the question, averting your gaze. But it didn’t matter now – or so you thought – as he sat on your bed, watching you read.

A month ago, you’d have kicked him out without a second thought, but here you were, making idle conversation about something as ordinary as TV shows and work with him while you read.

It felt nice – right. It felt like you’d known each other for years when you were intent on resenting him for your entire college career. It felt so secure that you’d forget why you hated him.

“What’s on your mind?” He asked, flipping through one of the novels lying on the bedside table.

“You.”

Alhaitham rolls his eyes. “Of course I am.”

You hit him lightly with your book. “Pretentious little shit.”

“Wounded.” He deadpans, setting the book back down.

“Seriously though, I find it so weird that you’re sitting on my bed and making normal conversation with me when a year ago I’d have given you a black eye if you showed up to my house unannounced.”

He frowns. “Why?”

You level him with a blank stare. “Are you being sarcastic?”

He shakes his head, expression genuine.

“You’re not kidding?” You set aside your book, leaning in. “I hated you, you know that, right?”

“What?” His expression is one of genuine surprise as he takes in the apparently new information. “Since when? Why?”

“You have to be kidding me.” You laugh at the comical nature of it all. “You didn’t know?”

He stares at you, mouth half open in shock. “The whole time?”

You nod.

He lies down on your bed, still digesting the discovery. “I thought…”

“What did you think?”

“Your friends always just said that you didn’t socialise a lot, I thought you just didn’t know how to socialise or something,”

You sit and observe him in silence for a while.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I’m surprised” he runs a hand through his steel grey hair. “It was so obvious, now that I think about it. How could I have not realised?”

“Your turn. Tell me.” You suddenly say, lying down next to him. “What did you want to tell me the first night you visited me?”

He goes quiet. He’s quiet for so long that you have to check if he’s still awake. His gaze is pointed at your ceiling, the glow in the dark stars there.

“I’ve been somewhat in love with you for the longest time.” He finally admits, voice thick.

“You what?” You sit up, mouth agape. “What the fuck?”

“If you want me to leave, I’ll go.” He says, sitting up as well. “I figured I should tell you eventually, and that time is now.”

Quiet ensues, as it so often does when you’re around each other. Not an uncomfortable sort of quiet – the quiet that speaks louder than words.

You’d both been blind the whole time. You, for your infatuation with him – with beating him, with his person, with his attitude and, though you’d never admit it to him, his looks – and him, with his one sided love for you.

And though you’d both been too near-sighted to see the other person in their entirety, now your cracks are showing. The recesses in his facade of steel, and the fractures in your mask of indifference.

Two puzzle pieces. Pieces that could mould to each other, shaping and weathering with time.

So when he makes to leave, you grab his hand. A silent question. The tension eases from his shoulders, and Alhaitham pulls you off the bed, wrapping you in his arms.

The past few weeks with him have proven nothing but the possibility of loving him. That the hatred that you’d accumulated over months of blind infatuation masked the presence of something far more confronting.

You couldn’t recognise yourself in the mirror anymore. So much of you was missing. But maybe, the two of you could find yourselves in each other.

written by @delat1ne, published 27th of August 2023

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hamsamwich23 · 2 months

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small clip from that scrapped fic miku miku ooooeeeeeooooo

❗Trigger warnings for implications of murder/death❗

"When I first woke up again, I was in his garden."

"Everything was pitch black and freezing cold. I tried to move my arms and legs, but I was stuck. I couldn't do anything, it was like I was trapped in some sort of void."

"I couldn't take it, so i cried. I cried out for my mom and dad, for someone, anyone to save me... I even cried out for them."

"...But nobody came"

"mm...and when they DID come, the people who mattered the most to you when you were alive you couldn't feel ANYTHING?"

"Exactly. As hard as I tried..I couldn't feel the same way Asriel did about them. I should have felt at least something...But I just felt... Numb. Empty. And it all went downhill from there"

The flower lowered its head as the puppet sighed gently.

"For me it was...the opposite. In a twisted sort of way"

"in the beginning, I had barely been woken up. In fact, I was in the process of being brought to life by the same spell book that gave life to my family."

"there was a quick flash of bright lights in an odd room. And then something, Or I guess SOMEONE, blocked my way.. Everything became dark again."

"When The darkness returned, everything was warm... And then I felt pain."

"Tugging. Yanking, Tearing, Stabbing, AGONIZING pain."

"My entire body felt like it had been torn into pieces and the warm feeling was getting worse, it felt like I was burning up"

"I tried to scream for help, but nothing came out. I couldn't move my mouth or my arms... all I could do was lay there, crying to myself as the pain consumed me.."

"I was trapped like that, all the way until the spell was cast a second time...Roughly ten years later."

#this was originally going to be the first chapter mini intro but yknow yknow #anyways Scout and Flowey do be confiding in each other about the fucked up shit that happened to them #Flowey is having a time right now because essentially in this AU Chara and his/Asriels sacrifice was unnecessary because they didn't know..#monsters ALREADY were existing on the surface (thanks horrible magic curse plaguing the Earth #hello puppets #unreality au #sams writing #unreality scout #unreality flowey #sams undertale tag #flowey the flower #undertale au #might be a tiny bit ooc because this is four almost five years post true pacifist....#I love their silly little crossover friendship you dont understand they make me feral #using smaller ut tags please do not consume my soul....im already so fucking nervous

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noxtivagus · 2 years

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THE ZACK FAIR BRAINROT IS SO REAL

#tag later #HERO........ CRIES I LIKE CHARACTERS SM THAT ARE LIKE THAT HUH 😭#'hey would you say i became a hero' bb boy you're gna make me cry #the price of freedom is steep..#WINGS. ANGELS. MONSTERS. FUCK CC FOR THAT MY POOR HEART #dreams n honor n burdens n. living legacy sobs 'theyre yours now' 🥹#n then flowers. aerith. she's so cute she's so cute twenty-three tiny wishes 😔 I'M SO SAD #zack literally fell from the sky 💀 hey bro did it hurt when you fell from heaven #HDFLKAJSDLFKSDJ N THEN THE PARALLEL WITH CLOUD :<< THAT HURT #aerith is so cute pls pls i love her so much she's rlly special to me 'id like to spend more time with you' AAAAAA MY HEART SOB #cries zack the puppy he's so cute fr #the sky.. THE SKY THE BLUE SKY. EYES THE COLOR OF THE SKY #being a 'monster' an 'angel' or 'human'. that. oh no i'm like obsessed w themes like that #he's such a good person :<< he's so charming fr n such an inspiration n sob AGHHH HE'S SO COOL I REALLY LOVE ZACK!?!?!?!?!#i've mostly been talking abt zack but. goddamn sephiroth in cc is so special to me he's one of my favs too. N ANGEAL. EVERYONE!#I CANT EVEN RAMBLE ANYMORE THIS IS #i have no words oh man i rlly rlly want to play ccr i'm gna cry so much when i play it 😭😭#i'm really thankful to video games n just. stories in general bcs i've always been rather reserved n #bro even as a kid i barely cried. my mom told me i didn't even cry when i got out or smth?? idk if that's true but she said so #i've always been emotional n rather sensitive yes but i grew up not being the most expressive of it. not really sure why #nyways especially in times where i ended up bottling my emotions so much bcs i wanted to 'handle it on my own' so #others 'wouldnt worry' (backfired)!!!! video games. i mean stories in general like books n anime even #really served as an outlet that helped me let it all out. ffxv for example in early 2020 and ffvii mid 2020 n ffix throughout #school during 2020 n ffxiv late 2020 #YOU SEE. THERE'S SM OTHER GAMES TOO BUT FINAL FANTASY REALLY WAS SO PRESENT THROUGHOUT MY LIFE #no doubt that it's my fav series fr :c i really love a lot of games but.. yeah ff rlly is so special to me #THERES SM MORE TO RAMBLE ABT BUT I HAVE ASSIGNMENTS TO DO SOB BUT. CISSNEI N. EVERYTHING ELSE 😭🫶🏼#apollo says hi. n says i have no ass wtf man they're so random but it's adorable 🥹 THAT SAID THOUGH FUCK LOVELESS IS SO COOL FUCKK DFJAKDSL

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satoruxx · 3 months

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normally toji prides himself on being the perfect guard dog—not that he would ever tell you that. but you never have to worry about guys coming up to you when your hulking monster of a boyfriend remains at your side, continuously glaring down his nose at everyone he sees.

this usually works pretty well.

on adults.

but now, as you and him wait in line at the counter of the grocery store, he can only let out a huff of irritation as he watches the little brat in front of you both stare over his mother’s shoulder—big wide eyes locked on you.

at first you don’t really notice, too busy blabbering about something silly as you look around the store. but when you finally lock eyes with the child, you notice the way he seems to go shy, pressing his cheek deeper into his mom’s shoulder. his eyes flick away from your face for just a second, before timidly looking back. as soon as he does, you break into the sweetest, most giddy smile.

(toji would move mountains for a glimpse of that smile—and yet here this kid is just getting it without a shred of work.)

you tilt your head, raising a hand to gently wave at the boy, who flushes further under your attention, but lifts his cheek a little more. chubby fingers come up to meekly wave back, and you hold back a silent coo of affection, eyes filled with honey-like sweetness. with every little giggle and silly face you make at the boy, he seems to get more and more comfortable—toji watches you melt.

the unlucky little brat then quickly peeks at the giant man looming beside you, and toji can’t resist. his face pulls into a evil smile, teeth on full display as he wiggles his fingers sinisterly. the expression has its desired effect—the kid recoils, eyes going wide before burying his face into his mother’s neck. in a few minutes, the boy and his mom are heading out the store and you and toji start loading the groceries onto the belt.

“i saw that, you know?”

toji glances up, seeing your semi disapproving frown, and he cocks his head in faux innocence. “saw what?”

“you’re mean,” you shake your head, crossing your arms. “scaring little kids like that. quite literally the object of their nightmares.”

“ah, he’ll be alright,” toji grunts, taking the bags from the cashier in one hand and reaching for your palm with the other. “it’ll build his character.”

you snort. “he’ll have trauma.”

“like i said,” he grins, a canine display. “character.”

you roll your eyes as he tugs you out of the store—your grip on him unwilling to falter.

toji lives just like this, successful in scaring off any other person who considers giving you attention, whether that’s an adult or a little kid. and despite your exasperated complaints to at least lay off the children (they’re harmless), toji has known for a long time that he can be nothing but selfish when it comes to you.

so forgive him, if he quickly turns to this evil little tactic to scare away kids—it’s all he can really do. besides, it always works.

until now.

you’re sitting under a tree at a small park, working on some dumb assignment for one of your lectures. toji lays on his back next to you, arm draped over his eyes in a momentary respite from the normal danger of his life—eerily content.

the peace is broken by the rustling of tiny footsteps in the grass.

“here you go.”

toji pulls his arm away to peer at the owner of the voice. a boy stands there, hair tousled as he waits in front of you with his arm outstretched—in between his chubby fingers is a singular dandelion.

your eyes widen, cheeks splitting into a wide smile as you coo out your affection. “aw for me?”

the boy nods mutely, cheeks flushed as he thrusts the flower further into your view. you delicately pluck it from his hands, inhaling the fragrance with a grateful smile. “well thank you. it’s beautiful.”

he shyly kicks at a spot of grass, lips pulling up into a giddy smile under your sweet praise. “just like you,” he mumbles under his breath and you squeal softly, giggling at how adorable this kid truly is.

toji sits up before you can say anything else, lips pulled into a displeased frown as he crosses his bulky arms across his chest. “hey.” his voice comes out low and tense, even as he stares down his nose at the boy. “what are you doing?”

you turn to look at your boyfriend, at the exaggerated sneer that normally works wonders in scaring kids away, and you hold back an exasperated sigh. “toji—“

“who are you?” the boy frowns, sass appearing out of thin air as he looks toji up and down like he’s nothing but dirt under his colorful sneakers. you gape at him, eyes darting back and forth between the two as a smile threatens to make its way into your face. toji’s lips part in surprise, a tingle of heat crawling up his neck as he hears your hushed gasp of held back laughter.

“her boyfriend,” he grunts back, eyes narrowed in a way that’s oddly similar to the expression on the kid’s face.

“no way!” the boy huffs, pouting indignantly. his cheeks flush as he glares at toji—unfazed.

“uh, yes way.” toji realizes how petty he sounds, but he’s adamant—unwilling to stand down in anything that involves you.

the boy crosses his arms, mirroring toji’s pose. he rolls his eyes emphatically, lip curling as he sneers down his nose.

“isn’t she too pretty for you?” he asks bluntly. you smother another disbelieving gasp, and toji suddenly feels an unfamiliar thrill rush through his veins—this kid had guts.

“what do you know, brat?” there’s a smirk evident in toji’s voice now, and he uncrosses his arms to lean back on his palms, eyes shining with feral mirth.

“i have eyes,” the boy snaps back, putting both hands on his hips to appear more intimidating—it doesn’t work, he just looks cuter. “i can see her.”

“well quit it,” toji huffs in return. “not yours to look at.”

the kid narrows his eyes. “you’re mean!”

“and you’re nosy!”

“how am i nosy?”

“you’re comin’ over here and givin’ my girl flowers!”

“she deserves flowers!”

“of course she does! from me, you little brat!”

“you suck, old man!”

��what did you just call me?!”

a shout from across the park disrupts the heated bickering, and you all turn to see an older woman waving the boy over. he looks down at you, a sweet smile washing over his face as he tilts his head innocently. “that’s my mom. i have to go home now.”

“heh, sure thing. get home safe, okay?” you shoot toji an amused glance as you speak, and he sends a displeased glare back as he stubbornly crosses his arms again.

the boy nods, beaming at you. “okay! see you later!” he chirps. but just as he’s about to leave he turns back, eyes fixated on toji. “i hope your boyfriend learns how to be nice!”

and then he runs off.

you snort out another laugh, which only gets louder when you catch a glimpse of the way toji is practically sulking in the corner—scowling at the kid’s back with narrowed eyes.

the whole thing is so unbelievably endearing, and you can’t stop grinning as you pack up your things and stand up.

“let’s go home, toji.” you hold your palm out for him, and you’re rewarded with a pointed glance—he takes your hand anyway. even as you both exit the park, toji has an unamused pout on his face, glaring ahead.

you can’t resist.

“don’t tell me you actually feel threatened now,” you giggle, grabbing his bicep and pressing close. toji glances at you from the corner of his eyes, unamused—which only seems to make you laugh harder. “oh come on! he was so cute!”

“little brat,” he grumbles in return. “couldn’t take a hint.”

“you’re mad because the eight year old kid at the park didn’t want to believe you were my boyfriend?”

“the fuck do you think? of course i am. what do i look like if not your fucking boyfriend?”

you chortle, practically falling on him with the weight of your amusement. he sighs, disgruntled.

“it’s not funny, kid.” toji rolls his eyes at you—internally, he’s trying not to grin.

“it’s so funny, toji.” you straighten up, smiling at him with stars in your eyes. “you’re ridiculous and it’s so cute.”

he scoffs, giving you a sidelong glance before reaching up to tug at your cheek. “i’m definitely not the cute one.” he murmurs offhandedly before internally smirking at the way you seem to be caught off guard by his statement.

“whatever,” you mumble, holding his arm as you both continue walking home in relative silence. from the corner of your eye you can see toji’s expression as he mutely stares ahead, deep in thought. you decide not to disturb him, content on just feeling his warmth bleeding into your palm—always at your side.

toji replays the incident in his head multiple times as you head home. the bickering, the sass, and the unfiltered adoration that little brat seemed to have for you.

something clicks.

as you’re pushing open the door of your apartment, you hear toji quietly chuckle from behind you, and you turn to look at him over you shoulder. “what?”

he shakes his head slowly, eyes shut even as an uncharacteristically soft smile tugs at his lips. “just thinking…”

“about what?” you ask curiously.

toji grins at you, cocking his head fondly. “when we have a kid, i want the little brat to be just like that.”

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vinca-majors · 11 months

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I didn't realize Jude Law was going to be playing Captain Hook in the new Peter Pan adaptation, and I'm actually somewhat interested in seeing it now. Do you think you'll like him as Hook? (Also, sorry if you've already posted about this before. 😅)

i was initially really excited about the jude law casting, because 1) i think he's a very good actor and he often plays appealing charmers - check and check, and 2) he's quite handsome. definitely at hook level if your tastes lay that way, and mine do. i was actually very excited about the entire cast -- sunny pawar has been my mental peter for eons, so i was thrilled that they cast someone of indian descent as peter pan, and bebe ever anderson would have made an adorable wendy -- but then the pandemic delay happened and both mains got too old for their roles. i grew increasingly less enchanted as more details came out about this production, not least when i saw this

at which point i realized that disney had thrown away their ace -- jude law handsomeness -- in favor of making hook as sexually unappealing as possible, which meant the director-writer ignored a few major og story elements and the rest of the production would probably suffer the same fate. nail in the coffin: per jude himself, he wanted his hook to be "scarred and gnarly and disgusting" which is just - NOT HOOK?? AT ALL?? even the asexual cartoon disney hook was still distinctly HOOK. jason issacs has already shown the world that a messy handsome elegant pathetic scary hook CAN AND SHOULD be done. this movie has no excuse for itself.

anyway. i'm not eager to give the time of day to a production that appears to have intentionally sailed right past the point. the last time i was this excited for a movie was the dakota johnson persuasion, which left me with PTSD; even knowing ahead of time that i'll be devastated, i'm not eager to go through that again (i was SO excited, y'all 😔). i've seen nearly every peter pan adaptation/prequel/sequel that exists, so i know i'll watch it someday - probably through my fingers - but i've got to fortify myself with about 100 watches of the jason issacs version first. a girl can only take so much.

#once again i am struggling to stay succinct #i just have SAD FEELINGS ABOUT IT so i am a fountain of sad #sorry not sorry to jude's big dreams of playing barbossa's little brother you're a life ruiner #imdb HATES this movie. every review is like ~all the visual and emotional color was sucked out of the story like that guy in monsters inc #i recently rewatched the disney og and while it wasn't as good as i remembered (and i've never loved it) -#- you can't deny that every character shines individually and so does the scenery #where is mary blair 2k23 when you need her!!#where is a disney producer who gives one tiny rat's ass about the canon story!!#thank you GOD for peter pan 2003 or else i would be left adrift with no consolation #but instead i can tuck my bluray copy under my pillow at night in the happy knowledge that near-perfection does in fact exist!#and ignore all these other big mistakes #asks #peter pan & wendy #he has found himself a wendy

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seraphdreams · 11 months

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JJK MEN AS YOUR PERSONAL TRAINER. | TOJI FUSHIGURO, GOJO SATORU, CHOSO KAMO, SUGURU GETO.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — synopsis. having private sessions with the men prove to be an experience. what type of trainer are each of them?

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — cw. smut, edging, degradation, praise, dry humping, fellatio, switch!choso, overstimulation, emo boy!choso, cervix fucking, unprotected sex, they are all whores. mdni <3

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — word count. 3.1k

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — dolled up! oh em gee ?? headcanon format ? yup! i originally wrote this as a little joke since i started pilates but then my mind wandered and it wasn’t a joke anymore. other than that, ino was supposed to be on the list but he couldn’t make it :( something about being busy .. regardless, comment / reblog if u like ! it would make my day, thank u ♡

TOJI — THE CORRUPT TRAINER.

there must’ve been a clear distinction as to why your trainer only allowed sessions from 9pm up until midnight, but your desperation when it came to relentlessly searching for a personal trainer didn’t leave enough room in your mind to think deeper about the true nature of its shadiness. all you needed was a spotter, and toji’s services claimed to provide just that.

and what happens when you combine height, a monsterous build, superhuman stamina, and a handsome face? well, you get toji fushiguro in all his abhorrent glory.

his chiseled body virtually doubled your frame with biceps the size of your head, shoulders wide enough to emphasize the narrowness of his waist, and veins crawling up his limbs even when the muscles weren’t flexed. a mean looking man with a scar over his mouth like some battered veteran. whatever he got into during the day was truly nothing you’d want to take part in.

inviting him over to your home gym was one thing, but it was looking to be another when his “help” took the form of sensuality; his large hands running along the back of your thighs when he’d seemingly fold you over with your legs on either side of your head for warm-up stretches, or even the occasional groping of your ass when it came down to squats, he was barely doing his job, what you paid a hefty price for, and yet you loved every bit of it.

“c’mon, you can take more of it, cant’cha?” toji’s gruff voice goads, watching the way your tiny cunt struggles with swallowing the head of his wrist-thick, bulbous cock. you were put in the awkward position of doggy, yet another one of his sessions derailed and he deemed this new workout could help you build up some much needed endurance. you were going to need it if you planned on keeping him around.

it surely seems that way when you’re practically running from the pleasure he pistons into you, thick cock kissing your cervix with each skillful, angled thrust of his. large hands were wrapped around your waist, keeping you in place for him — because if there was one thing your personal trainer was strict about, it was form. and your form was beyond perfect.

“‘s just too good.” you mindlessly whined, attempting your hardest to grip onto the thin cushion of the yoga mat beneath you. toji lets out a deep scoff at your vocables, driving his hips against your ass once more, this time a bit sharper with a hint of fervor as its aftertaste. “and you’ve been training with me for how long now?” his question came out in a mocking tone as his lips stretched wide in a crooked smile, that of a statement rather than a query.

“t-two weeks .. fuck.” you respond, mind going hazy from the gaining intensity of his potent movements. the feeling was all too much, it came as no surprise when pleasure began to surge from your spine to coil at your core, building up that high you've been chasing for the past hour, that grumpy ol’ toji continued to rip away from you.

pressing a heavy hand to the small of your back, he arches you forward, groaning at the sight of how swiftly you position yourself for him, your face pushed against the mat.

maybe his training has paid off. . “two weeks and you’re still struggling to take my cock?” he pulled your hips back against his, leaving you defenseless in the ministrations. “guess i need to train this pretty little hole of yours more often.”

with the end of his sentence, he snakes his thick arm around your waist, the pad of his thumb finding your achy, puffy clit, rubbing the nub in tight, harsh circles. if your moans weren’t already loud enough, you were sure the whole town could hear you by now, crying out his name like no tomorrow while your legs trembled with your impending orgasm. “‘m cumming! so hard!” you cry, drooling into the mat as he fucks you through your orgasm.

it wasn’t until soon after that he finally reached his high, sending hot and sticky ropes of cum into your womb. not once had a session with toji ended with him shooting his cum in a more responsible way, with a rubber. it was clear to you since the very first time you allowed his fantasies to come to fruition — toji didn’t believe in condoms.

your body went lax as soon as he pulled out, and he tucked his cock back into his pants, hovering over your sad frame with an amused smirk on his scarred lips.

“good session. i expect $800 wired to my account by the mornin’.”

GOJO — THE ENABLING TRAINER.

when you first showed up to the private room of your local gym in search of your assigned instructor for the night a.k.a “the strongest,” you were expecting some big burly man with a cocky attitude — someone you didn’t particularly get along with. but much to your surprise, instead, he was handsome; fluffy white strands of hair that strayed upwards and a million dollar smile with just the charisma, the charm to back it up.

gojo stood over 6 feet tall, and although he was on the lankier side, there was no denying the lean muscles that peeked through his skintight black top. he smiled, throwing a loose cloth over his broad shoulders.

“you ready to get started?”

your eyes greedily took him in, scanning over the finer details of his gorgeous build. it wasn’t until about thirty seconds of daydreaming about what he’d look like unclothed that you finally gave him a response in the form of a nod and hum.

of course satoru wasn’t an idiot, he could tell from how dazed you were during the first few minutes of instruction that you were focused on something else, not that he minds though, it’s truly an honor that a girl as pretty as you is capable of fawning over him, just as many others do.

after having to shake your thoughts whenever it came to watching him take a large swig from his water, droplets of the liquid streaming down his chin to graze his prominent adam's apple, or the soft appraises he’d coo when you finally got the hang of his workouts, it was the end of yet another vigorous session with him, sweat dripping from your chin down to your chest that was scantily clad in a baby pink sports bra. you held on taut to your water bottle as satoru carried conversation with you.

“you improved so much in just an hour. i’m proud.”

his praises barely reached your ears before you looked at him with adoration glossed over those pretty eyes — there was something about him that you just couldn’t get over, but you knew you needed him badly. you dabbed perspiration from your forehead with a matching pink towel, soft smile forming on your doll-like features.

“thank you,”

he nods his head slightly before starting, “you seemed a bit distracted today, though. something on your mind?” his query pulled you from your gojo-induced hypnosis, causing you to blink away the embarrassment pooling up within you. were you truly that obvious?

“hm? there’s nothing, i’m fine,” your reply came out low and sheepish while your eyes struggled to find anywhere else to settle besides those bright baby blues. he took it upon himself to inch closer to you, studying your features until you gasped softly once your back hit the wall. “nothing?” he asks for confirmation, and you affirm. “nothing.”

“all you gotta do is use your words if you need me.”

gojo’s hands found their way at your thighs, creeping them upwards underneath the thin spandex of your shorts. his touch felt hot against your skin, each brush of his fingertips along the expanse of your inner thigh causing shivers to trickle down your spine while he watched with mirth at your pitiful attempt to keep your whines at bay.

“i think .. i think i need you.”

with that, satoru smirked and lifted your leg up just enough so that it fell over his arm. his lips met yours with a salacious that only the whorest of whores could possess, skilled tongue angling its way inside your mouth to gently clash with yours in the sweetest harmony that had you buckling underneath the frame of his body.

it must’ve been a spur of the moment when you found yourself rutting your hips up in search for satoru’s, a pitchy moan sounded into the kiss when he matches your ministrations, grinding his sweatpant clad and half-hard, leaking length into the seat of your shorts; creating the most delicious sensation as the tip nudged against your clit.

his free hand took purchase at your cheek, his thumb rubbing ever so gently against the heated skin while his movements increased in greediness. your mind’s too hazy to make out anything besides the pleasure and build up of your orgasm — so much so, that it pulled you back to reality as soon as it hit, your sloppy kisses coating gojo’s soft lips in a thin sheen and the seat of your shorts sopping wet from the release of your high.

yet, gojo kept at it until he too came to a falter, cumming an ample amount in his sweats while groaning deep into your mouth. he separated from the kiss for just a split second before he took it upon him to goad,

“we can add 30 more minutes and i’ll give you more than just a taste.”

CHOSO — THE INTIMIDATING TRAINER.

a pierced tongue, some tattoos running along both veined arms, and a deep, monotonous voice were a recipe for your timidness when it came to the kamo, who you’d invited over for your very first home training session. it didn’t help that he was on the quieter side, responding to whatever small talk you’d make with one or two words while his intense eyes would follow every move you’d make as he’d help with your form.

he truly wasn’t a bad guy, or so you thought. even now, during your session with him, his praises were appropriate, he wasn’t too handsy nor did he seem to have any ill intent; being with him felt surprisingly comfortable and refreshing just as the crisp, cold water you two were currently drinking, made fresh from your refrigerator’s tap.

“was it too intense?” he’d asked in regard to the exercises you had just completed. intense was an understatement, you didn’t know how you could move your body in such ways that you did, which wouldn’t have been possible without his expertise. choso set the chilled glass of water down onto your coffee table, feeling coy from sitting on your couch, something he’d never done even with his regulars, and in response, you shook your head at the query, settling yourself by his side.

there was truly no denying how absolutely stunning you were, like some angelic being brought to him from the heavens up above in the form of the sweetest thing he’s ever met. he was afraid that if he blinked too hard, you’d vanish.

the more his eyes focused on your lips when you talked, how you’d massage the sore muscles of your thighs and even let out cute whines because of the fact, the more he found it harder to contain his thoughts, rapidfire in his mind. those perverted thoughts that only some horny teenager could have, not a well off adult like him.

yet, it wasn’t enough to stop him from getting hard in his sweats, a dark grey patch spreading at the crotch, what he’d hoped you’d mistake as spilt water.

“shit,” with that of a husky sigh, he ran his hand over his face, tinges of pink battering the tattooed scar across his nose and cheeks. “i’m sorry.”

oblivious to his situation, you were quick to express your inquiry. “sorry about wh- oh.” the head of his cock practically peeked through the barrier of the hem of his sweats while he made a futile effort to cover himself with one of your pillows once you had realized.

he looked cute like that, embarrassed by something so natural that it even spurred on your arousal, the thought of him getting worked up over you doing virtually nothing. “i-it’s okay.. i can help you if you want.” you offer, moving your position to sit between his thighs.

violet hued eyes widened from your newfound boldness, the clearing of his throat being the only true source of sound he could make in that moment.

“nah, nah. it’s-“ before he could inch out the words, you were drawing featherlight circles at his tip over the fabric, causing his breath to hitch and resolve to falter.

choso wasn’t someone who’d allow himself to be in such a pathetic situation, yet the thought of you carrying out his perfect porn plot fantasy was all he needed for that internal morality to fly straight out the window.

you chuckled at the way he hiked himself up when you finally took him from his bottoms and into your hot, wet mouth. just the sight of his cock disappearing past soft, glossy pink lips has his temperature rising, feeling as though he could pass out.

it’s hazy for him — your hand at the base, the rhythmic bobbing of your head slowly while gradually picking up speed. he never would’ve thought the job he took on for extra cash to fund his college textbooks would end up with someone as gorgeous as you giving him a chance. every pump of your hand around what couldn’t fit into your mouth had him groaning, bucking his hips up as gently as he could without battering the back of your throat.

though, he wouldn’t mind if he did.

staving off a gag, you ultimately increased your pace, determined to get him off while your other hand fondled his plump balls.

from the faint touches alone, he could feel his high approaching, embarrassingly quicker than usual. yet, he couldn’t help it when you started to grow sloppy, a mix of spit and precum dribbling down his shaft.

“w-wait, fuck.. ‘m gonna.”

it took no time for him to shoot his seed into your awaiting throat, his head thrown back against the headrest while he bucked his hips to jettison every last drop. you swallowed all he had to offer before pulling away, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

maybe he wasn’t as intimidating after all.

GETO — THE CHARMING TRAINER.

you were his favorite. you had to be. even in the long line of women waiting to have their own turn with him, you were always a top contender. he had always made time for you, and you alone.

geto’s popularity made perfect sense in your mind. he was tall, handsome with narrow features and dragon tattoos strung along both arms, a man ahead of his time. not to mention, his docile, gentle demeanor. he was charming as all get out and you were beyond aware of your superstar status of being the only one he wanted.

“are we actually going to get some training done or is there something else you want to do?” he straps his fingerless gloves around his palm, tank top tight around his torso, carving out each and every trace of his abs while looking over you, a pleasant smile quirked at his lips.

you felt sheepish under his sharp gaze, a feeling that comes all too natural with expert trainer, suguru geto. “i’m fine with whatever you have in mind, sugu.”

if you didn’t know any better, you’d swore you saw his cheeks dust in the lightest shade of pink at the endearing nickname. you were cute, too fucking cute and perhaps, that was the reason he kept you around.

“i’m thinking we test that stamina ‘nd see if you can hold up riding me?” he hooks his finger under your chin, tilting your head up just slightly. “no help, all on your own.” in all honesty, you could definitely take up his challenge. how hard could it be to take some dick?

or so you thought.

“fuck, sugu! ‘s too much!”

you wouldn’t want to be caught dead in the miserable state that you were in but it ultimately did seem as though geto’s lessons had gotten you nowhere. the tip of his cock wasn’t even an inch past your cunt while you rested your hands on his broad shoulders, pathetically trying to take what was the easiest part.

he smirked at you, resting his hands behind his head. “i’m not helping, princess. i meant it.”

you continued to try and sink yourself down onto his unreasonably thick cock, a soft crack of a whine tumbling past parted lips when your pussy engulfed another half inch of him. “but-“

“if i have to help you, we’re not finishing until you’re a mess.” he grits, not harsh enough to come off as daunting but stern enough to warn you. yet, the warning fell to deaf ears when you began to whorishly beg pleas of “help me, sugu. help me.”

from that, he let out a low groan, his hands on your waist sinking you all the way down to the base before he gained stability, flattening his feet onto the floor and fucking his cock into your fluttering cunt.

with the way he moves, you were almost positive you had the wind knocked out of you from those first few thrusts alone. soft babbles resonated throughout the room while you clung to his body like it’d comfort you in the hell that was his potent ministrations.

you felt far more sensitive than you ever felt, white hot pleasure coiling within you in no time, your pussy tightening around his shaft in such a suffocating way, geto felt as though he couldn’t breathe either. “s-so tight, princess. i know you wanna cum, cum for me, baby.” he goads through a strained voice, his thumb now working between your folds to find purchase at your clit, rubbing the puffy nub in moderate circles.

“if you do t-that, i might—“

and before you knew it, you were gushing around his pretty cock, face twisted in the prettiest picture of pleasure. the aftershocks of your orgasm were way more intense as you were fucked to overstimulation, a sly grin on his lips.

“told you we weren’t stopping, darling.”

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likeumeanit9497 · 4 months

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wanna see? | c.s. |

chris sturniolo x fem! reader

summary: during a night of heavy drinking, y/n tells chris that her roommate, who had slept with him weeks prior, had been less than impressed by his skills in the bedroom. chris asks if y/n believes her roommate, and when she says she does, he decides to prove her wrong.

warnings: SMUTTTTT; established friendship; oral (m/f receiving); p in v; DIRTY TALK; unprotected sex; drinking; spanking; ROUGH; 18+

notes: not to gas myself up but...this smut...is insane. i literally wrote all of this in like three hours idk what happened i think my body was taken over by my hormone monster or some shit. but anyways i hope u chris girlies enjoy <333

ᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕ

“Y/n! Our Uber is two minutes away, are you ready?” My roommate Bree called from the other side of my bedroom door just as I finished applying my lip gloss. “Yep! I’ll be out in a second.” I replied, taking one final look at myself in the full length mirror and adjusting my pleated mini skirt. Satisfied with my appearance, I finally exited my room and found Bree struggling to tie her corset top up herself. “Oh god, let me help.” I sighed, grabbing her shoulders to turn her around so that I could lace her up. “Thanks babe. Oh my god, you look unreal!” She exclaimed, facing me once I was finished, and I smiled sheepishly. “You don’t think it’s too much?” I looked down at my tiny skirt, low cut top, and chunky boots self consciously. “Absolutely fucking not. As a matter of fact I think you should wear that outfit every day for the rest of your life.” She replied before poking my cleavage playfully. I rolled my eyes and laughed. “Oh shut up, let’s go.” I shoved her shoulder jokingly and we both headed for the front door of our apartment.

“So,” I began once we got on the elevator, “Who’s all gonna be there tonight?” Bree’s fingers were flying across the keyboard on her phone, frantically texting someone. “Um…the usual group I think, probably gonna be a few other random people we don’t know yet, but Nick told me they’re keeping it pretty small this year.” She replied as we got into our Uber and I nodded in acknowledgment.

We were heading to the triplets’ house to celebrate their 21st birthday. Bree and I had met Nick Matt and Chris about a year ago, and the five of us had grown extremely close since then. It was a short drive from our place to theirs, but still I pulled out two mini bottles of tequila and handed one to Bree. She raised an eyebrow at me and I shrugged. “We didn’t have time for a pre game.” I said simply before raising my bottle to cheers her. She laughed before doing the same, and we both took our shot. “Fucking ew,” She said, shuddering, “I hate tequila.” It was my turn to laugh. “The first shot is always the worst, remember?” She nodded hesitantly. “True enough.”

“So…you think things are gonna be weird with you and Chris? This is the first time you’ve seen him since-” Bree cut me off by waving her hand nonchalantly. “Nah, it’ll be fine. For him it meant nothing, and you already know what it was for me.” I bit my lip to stifle a laugh.

A few weeks ago, I was awoken from my sleep at 3 a.m. by Bree barging into my room to tell me that she had just slept with Chris. This news shocked me, since I knew that she had been pining after Matt since we first met them. When I asked her to explain how the fuck that happened, her only explanation was that she was drunk enough to pretend that Chris was Matt. Initially, I had been concerned that their intimacy would make things weird in our group, but both of them seemed to be completely unbothered by it.

“Alright well, let’s just enjoy the night.” I said as our Uber pulled up to the house. “And who knows, maybe you’ll get lucky with the right triplet tonight.” I joked before walking up to the front door, side by side with Bree. She sighed. “Probably not. Pretty sure all hope of that disappeared once I opened my legs for his brother.”

ᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕ

Staring at myself in the bathroom mirror, I realized that I was drunk. Bree and I had arrived at the house about an hour ago, and we both immediately took three tequila shots back to back in honour of the triplets’ birthday. Thirty minutes later, we took another trio of shots, and that was more than enough to get me absolutely wasted. I haphazardly reapplied my lipgloss before exiting the washroom and heading back over to the kitchen to grab something else to drink.

“Whoa whoa whoa.” Shouted Nick over the loud music before rushing from the cluster of people he was with and grabbing the bottle of tequila from my hand. “Pretty sure you don’t need any more of that right now. How about some water?” He phrased it like a question, but didn’t wait for me to respond before grabbing a solo cup and filling it with water. I made a weak attempt at protesting, but deep down I knew that he was right; I was so far gone and the night was still young. “Thanks Nicky.” I said once he brought me the cup of water, and he rolled his eyes. “Ew. Don’t call me that. Now come over here and hang out with us.” He led me to the kitchen table, where him, Chris, Matt, Nate, and a few of their other friends were chatting.

“Hey Y/n, you want a shot?” Nate asked, a bottle of vodka gleaming in his hand. Just as I was about to respond, Nick cut me off with an aggressive “No!”, causing me to pout. “Oh yeah, you’re wasted kid.” Chris said with a shot glass in his hand. I looked at him for a moment, taking in his disheveled appearance and blood shot eyes. “Yeah well so are you.” I retorted weakly, and he chuckled. “It’s my birthday, so no judgments allowed.” He said before immediately lifting his glass to cheers with the rest of the group.

I stood there sipping my water slowly as they all took their shots, my eyes focused on Chris’ sharp jaw as he grimaced from the taste of the alcohol. I continued to watch his mouth as he spoke to the person to his right, caught in a drunk trance and intrigued by the rosy colour of his lips.

If I was being honest, I had felt a certain attraction towards Chris since I met him. It wasn’t exactly a crush, and I certainly didn’t have any sort of serious feelings for him, but I would be lying if I said I hadn’t ever been tempted to go there with him before. There was a time, early on in our friendship, where we almost crossed that line.

I had been helping him hang posters on the wall above his bed, when he suddenly tackled me onto the mattress. It started off playful, but after a few moments of us play fighting, he ended up on top of me and the mood in the room completely changed. The smiles on our faces disappeared, and I felt my heart begin to race as his lips moved closer and closer to mine. Just as our lips brushed, the sound of Matt’s footsteps coming down the basement stairs caused us to jump apart, and we never spoke of that moment again.

Outside of that time, him and I had only ever acted as very good friends. As a matter of fact, out of all of the triplets I definitely got along with Chris the best. We both had similar personalities, and could joke around without worrying about hurting each other’s feelings.

I was pulled out of my thoughts by Nick’s voice to my left. “Y/n, did I tell you how unbelievably hot you look tonight?” I giggled, noticing that his voice was beginning to sound slurred even to me, so he was clearly drunk. “You did, but thank you Nick.” I replied, smoothing down my skirt and batting my eyelashes jokingly in his direction. I thoughtlessly glanced at Chris, and found his glossy eyes trailing slowly down my figure; clearly admiring my outfit.

“Hey Y/n, have you seen Bree?” Asked Nate, and I looked around the room quickly, realizing that I hadn’t seen her since I used the washroom. “I saw her go outside a little while ago, probably went to smoke.” Replied Matt, and I smiled to myself knowing that Bree will love the fact that he has been secretly keeping tabs on her whereabouts. “Speaking of Bree,” Chris started, turning back to look at me, “Did she tell you about what happened two weeks ago?”

The group grew silent for a moment as they waited for me to respond. I took a sip from my water and nodded. “She sure did.” Chris smirked. “I’m surprised she even had to tell you. You must have been out cold if you slept through all that noise she was making.” The entire group groaned, clearly disturbed by Chris’ lack of filter. “Oh my god! Goodbye.” Nick threw his hands in the air before storming off to join Madi on the couch in the living room.

I scoffed, grabbing the bottle of vodka from Nate and taking a swig. “Bullshit.” I replied simply, wincing from the burn as the vodka travelled to my stomach. Chris raised an eyebrow. “Oh? How so?” Even in my drunken state I was very aware of the amount of eyes on me awaiting a response. “Well, I asked her to rate the sex on a scale from one to ten. She said six.” The group broke into laughter, and Chris’ jaw clenched as he smirked. “Hmm, funny.” He replied.

“You asked for the wrong number,” Said Nate through his laughter, “You should have asked her for the inches.” Chris grabbed the bottle of vodka from me before bringing it to his lips. “Oh I did,” I smiled, leaning towards Chris’ ear before continuing in a whisper so that only he could hear, “I believe her exact words were, ‘nothing special’.” Chris smirked, swiping his tongue across his front teeth. “Oh really? And you believe that?” He responded, and I nodded, crossing my arms across my chest. “I have no reason to not believe her.” We stood there for a moment, both of us just staring at the other tauntingly as the rest of the group just watched in silence, clearly feeling left out of the conversation all of a sudden. Finally, after letting his eyes travel down my body slowly again, Chris spoke.

“You wanna see for yourself?”

It took every fibre of my being to keep my jaw from physically dropping at his words. “Uh, what the fuck are we talking about here?” Nate said, his voice tentative. I kept my gaze on Chris, hoping that my eyes weren’t giving away how shocked I was. I watched him watch me; his bright blue eyes drilling into mine, his lips upturned in a confident smirk. Realizing I had been silent for too long, I blinked repeatedly and cleared my throat to regain my nonchalant composure before shrugging. “Sure.” I heard Matt groan beside me as I grabbed the vodka from Chris, taking a sip as I followed him towards the stairs to his bedroom. “I’m gonna be sick.” Matt’s distant voice shouted as Chris and I descended the stairs and walked into his dark bedroom.

Once Chris shut and locked his bedroom door, I felt a pit in my stomach begin to grow. I suddenly broke into a fit of laughter from the ridiculousness of this situation. “What are you laughing at kid?” Asked Chris, beginning to chuckle himself. I took a moment to catch my breath before responding. “You’re not actually gonna let me see your dick, are you?” I clutched my stomach as I tried to control my laughter, and he shrugged. “I will if you want to see it.” I bit my lip in contemplation, trying desperately to think properly through my drunk fog. Failing miserably, I nod my head.

Chris smirked. “Come here then.” I put the bottle of vodka down on his desk and walked over to where he was standing in the middle of his room. I stopped about a foot away from him, but he gently pulled me closer. Looking at my face, he finally pulled me up against him; rubbing an uncertain thumb against the small of my back. “Wait, I’m not hard right now.” He chuckled, seeming to have his own moment of consciousness. I smiled up at him and tilted my head, placing a hand on his stomach. “Well I need to see it in its full glory. How else am I gonna know if you’re telling the truth?” His thumb stopped its movement on my back, and a glimmer of something flashed in his eyes.

“Okay, then make me feel good baby.”

My stomach did a somersault at his words, and I wrapped my arm around his shoulders. Leaning forward, I brushed my lips against his before grabbing his bottom lip with my teeth and pulling slightly; watching as it snapped back into place. My right hand slowly traveled down his stomach towards his waistband, where I let it linger for a moment before moving down to his crotch. There, I had to keep myself from audibly gasping; as even through his pants, his fast growing bulge was in fact huge.

Chris smiled lazily as my hand continued to palm his clothed dick. “Impressed yet?” My eyes snapped to his, and I decided to maintain my unimpressed persona. I hummed, my lips touching his but not quite kissing them. “Is this all you got Chris?” I bit his lip once more just before it turned up in a smirk. “Not quite.”

I gasped in shock as Chris spun me around and slammed me against the door, attacking my lips with his own. His kiss was full of a sort of animalistic hunger, and I was consumed by the taste of peppermint and vodka. He pressed me even harder against the wall as he rolled his hips against me, and I fought the urge to whimper at the feeling of his restrained cock against my needy core. He brought both of his hands up and pulled my low-cut top down to free my tits before grabbing one in each hand. Detaching his lips from mine, he took a moment to look at my chest before attaching his mouth to my left nipple; swirling his tongue around its sensitive nerves before moving onto the right.

Pulling away from my tits and once again coming face-to-face with me, he spoke. “Get on your knees.” He placed his hands on my shoulders and began guiding me down to the ground. Now at the same height as his bulging member, I watched as he wasted no time in removing his jeans. Now only concealed by his thin boxers, the true size of his cock was much easier to see. I stared in silence for a moment, taking in the fact that his boxers just barely covered its entire length. “Now do you believe me?” He asked from above me. I struggled to find my words, but I didn’t want to end this crazy game that we were playing, so I shook my head. “I’ve seen bigger.” I replied, looking up at him with doe eyes.

Chris rolled his eyes before pulling his boxers down to his knees. Now fully exposed, his cock smacked my face as it sprung free from its restraint. I couldn’t help but stare at it in awe — it had to be at least eight inches — as the faint light in the room reflected on its beautiful veins. “Open your mouth.” Chris’ commanding voice pulled me from my trance, and I looked up at him in shock. “What?” He tilted his head, “You said you’ve seen bigger, so you should have no problem swallowing this cock. So open your mouth.” His dirty words went right to my heat, and I felt my panties begin to flood with arousal.

Chris used both hands to collect all of my hair and held it out of my face as I wrapped my lips around the first few inches of his cock. Starting slow, I swirled my tongue around his sensitive tip before bobbing my head; taking a bit more of his length with each pump. I released his cock from my mouth for a second to catch my breath, before quickly leaning back in and deep throating his entire length. I heard a hiss escape his lips as my nose brushed against the sprinkle of hair against his lower stomach, and I began moving my head up and down his entire length; making sure to get every inch of him in my mouth.

“F-fuck, Y/n, that’s good. Keep going.” Chris rasped, and he began thrusting his hips at the same pace I was moving at. I moaned around his cock as his grip on my hair tightened; halting my movements entirely as he began face fucking me. Tears welled in my eyes as his cock repeatedly slammed into my throat, and I watched his face as his jaw went slack in both concentration and arousal.

Suddenly, all his movements stopped and he pulled me up to my feet. With his lips on mine and his hands tightly grasping my ass, he walked me backwards towards his bed. Once my heels reached the edge of the bed, Chris reached under my skirt and slid my panties down my legs. Feeling myself lose all sense of control, I didn’t hesitate when he ordered me to lay on my stomach with my ass in the air. I began trying to remove my skirt, but was stopped short by a sharp slap to my ass. “No, leave it on. You have no idea how sexy you look right now.” My back arched subconsciously from his words, and I began to tremble in anticipation.

I felt the bed shift as Chris climbed on, and I shuddered from the heat of his breath against my core as he spoke. “You want to talk shit about how you don’t think I can make girls scream, then you better stay fucking silent.” He gave me barely any time to register his words before his mouth connected to my core. Working his tongue relentlessly against my clit, I buried my face in his duvet to keep from making any noise. Using both hands to massage my ass as he continued to devour my cunt, he very quickly proved to me that he did in fact know how to eat pussy.

His mouth moved from my clit to my opening, and I couldn’t stop the guttural moan from passing my lips as his tongue began to plunge into me. Immediately, he stopped his movements and slapped my ass hard. “What did I say?” He asked, his gravelly voice filled with a sinister edge. “S-sorry.” I replied, pushing my core back in an attempt at reconnecting with his talented mouth. “That’s my good girl.” He replied before finally re-attaching his mouth to my hole. I bit down on my lip — so hard that it began to bleed — in order to keep myself from making another noise as I felt an orgasm approach. Chris continued using his tongue to fuck me as my legs began to shake and my brain grew fuzzy.

Like a tidal wave, my orgasm overtook my body and I began to convulse uncontrollably. I was somehow able to stifle my sounds of pleasure, even when Chris moaned into my pussy as I felt myself squirt all over his face. Without even giving me a moment to recover, Chris straightened his body up onto his knees, grabbed onto my hips, and plunged every substantial inch of his cock into me. At this, I couldn’t help but scream out in shock, and Chris promptly pulled out of me; leaving my dripping core feeling empty. “I told you to shut the fuck up. Do you want me to stop?” He tapped my pussy with his cock as he waited for me to respond. Scared to say anything, I simply shook my head. “Are you ready to admit that Bree was lying?” I turned my head so that I could see him behind me.

“Size doesn’t mean shit if you don’t know how to use it. So go ahead and prove yourself right.” At my words, Chris shook his head as his lips turned up in a smirk. Immediately, his dick slid back into me slowly, and I felt my hole stretch more and more as he bottomed out. He stayed still for a moment, before pulling his hips back so far that his tip was barely resting inside of me; and then slammed all of himself back into my cervix. He continued at this agonizingly slow and deep pace for a while, and used his words to taunt me the entire time.

“You’re such a good girl, taking all my cock like this.”

“I bet you feel so good right now baby.”

“Oh fuck, keep creaming all over this big dick.”

Suddenly, Chris pulled out of me and flipped me onto my back. Wasting no time, he hooked my legs around his neck and pushed his inches back into me. I stared at him, mouth open, as he watched my pussy swallow his cock with each quick thrust. Using one arm to support his weight, he placed his free hand on my stomach and pressed down. “You feel that?” He began, finding the spot where my stomach was bulging, “Feel how deep in your guts my cock can get?” My eyes rolled to the back of my head and I bit on my own arm to stifle the noises that were dying to escape it as I felt my second orgasm approaching.

Chris seemed to notice my impending climax, as he leaned forward to reach even deeper into me. “You want to cum, hmm?” He cooed, bringing a hand to my cheek. With my face contorted in the confusing combination of pleasure and frustration, I nodded my head. He moved my arm away from my mouth and planted a deep kiss there. “You can cum as hard as you want, just as soon as you tell me how good my cock makes you feel.” I whined silently, my overstimulated nerves causing my body to fill with a sudden desperation. “Come on, Y/n,” Chris brought his thumb down between our bodies and began rubbing my clit, “I want you to cum for me.”

I was panting now, feeling as though I might explode from the overwhelming pressure within my body. I was quickly realizing that I was losing this battle, and it was time to throw in the towel.

“Fuck Chris you’re so big.” I nearly screamed out, gripping onto his shoulders in a weak attempt at keeping my composure. “Feels so good, please let me cum.” I begged, and watched his face as his pupils dilated from my words. “That’s my girl. Now let go.” His hips continued pounding into me as I finally gave into my orgasm, and I lost all control of my mind as I spewed a plethora of moan-filled profanities into the room. My walls contracted uncontrollably around his girth as my orgasm tore through my body, and I felt my nails dig into the skin on his shoulders.

“Oh fuck Y/n, gonna cum too. Where do you want me?” His words came out shaky, and I didn’t hesitate before responding, “In me, please baby.” I begged, wanting to feel his warm seed spill into my worn out core. “Shiiit.” He hissed, his body slowing to a near-halt as he rode out his own orgasm. With slow, lazy thrusts, he pushed his cum deep into me as his cock twitched repeatedly.

Eventually, his movements stopped completely, and he slowly pulled out of me and walked towards his bathroom. When he returned, he came back with a towel and used it to help clean me up in silence while I caught my breath.

“I might be drunk,” He started, “But that was hot as fuck.” I laughed, holding my spinning head before sitting up. “We are never to speak of this again.” I said as I got to my feet to retrieve my underwear. “Sure sure…until the next time we do it right?” I rolled my eyes at his response and nudged his shoulder playfully. “Shut up. I need a shot, let’s go.” I headed for the door once he was fully clothed and together we began to climb the stairs. “How likely is it that everyone up here knows what we did?” I whispered to him as we neared the top. “Oh very likely, but who cares? It’s my birthday, so no judgments allowed.” He winked at me as we made it to the kitchen, where everyone’s eyes immediately landed on us.

“Oh god.” I muttered under my breath as I hurried over to Bree, who was smiling knowingly at me as she began pouring out two shots of tequila. “Please tell me one of these are mine.” I whispered to her, and she laughed. “It sure is. You have a good time down there?” She wiggled her eyebrows as she handed me a slice of lime. “If you really meant it when you said his dick was ‘nothing special’, then I’m gonna need the names and numbers of the guys you were ranking him against.” She tilted her head back and exploded into laughter before lifting her shot glass in the air and urging me to do the same. “You got it, babe. Just as soon as I get Matt to fall in love with me.” I laughed, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek before raising my own glass. “Cheers!”

ᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕ

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x you

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drluvsick · 3 months

Text

𝐆𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 𝐀 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐈 𝐏𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐒 — 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐬

you hand make them a replica of themselves in the form of a plushie! 📝 gn! reader. btw relationship is mutual pining. would’ve made the headers as the hashira’s plushies but… coloring would’ve been ughhh. maybe i'll post it separately!

word count : 1.6k+

𝐆𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐈 𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐀

“for me?” he’s surprised before it melts into a smile. with the plushie in hand, he rolls it around feeling the details from his hair to outfit, getting a general view of what it could look like.

“this is very kind of you. i will cherish this for the rest of my life.” he puts a hand on your head, gently petting you as you hug him in return. he’s happy at the action, his large body engulfing yours as he hugs you back. you’re relieved that he’s blind so that he’s not able to see your blush, but with your heart beating unusually fast and loud, you’re sure he can hear it and deduct it himself.

gyomei thinks that perhaps you may hear his heart beating abnormally as well in the moment.

𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐍 𝐔𝐙𝐔𝐈

he thinks it’s perfect. would’ve added more glitter, but then he thinks that maybe it’s better off that the entire plush isn’t covered in the tiny monsters. (he held the gift for a few seconds and then BAM, glitter EVERYWHERE on his hand)

he loves how flashy the doll is. it seems to shine and sparkle even in the dark of night.

he obviously treats you to a shopping spree or restaurant “date” with him after (after both of you furiously wash your hands from all that glitter).

absolutely takes mini tengen with him when he’s with you. you both brainstorm ideas for him and his little comrade to match outfits (off to the fabric store!).

this small gift secretly makes him scream inside. when he gets home from the interaction, you BET he’s going to be humming the entire rest of the day, unable to sleep because his thoughts are all filled of you.

𝐆𝐈𝐘𝐔 𝐓𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐎𝐊𝐀

so surprised that you would give him a gift. why would you want to waste so much time in giving him something? something you handmade, to be precise? he asks this, and when you reply saying that you just wanted to, he swears he fell harder than before.

he’s beyond happy, though. you get the grace of seeing him unconsciously smile at the present as he notices the attention to details. how much time did you spend looking at him to remember all these features? the thought makes him a little lightheaded.

you’re too sweet to him, he thinks. now whenever he’s feeling down and you’re gone, he holds the little plush to his heart for a small sense of comfort that helps him to live another day. and he doesn’t dare take it on missions or anywhere, really. he’s too afraid to lose or destroy something you worked so hard on to make for him.

god forbid you tell shinobu one day that you made a plushie for giyuu. she’d never let him get away without teasing him for actually getting someone to like him well enough to make something for him.

will subconsciously hide behind you when she does start with the teasing as you softly grasp his haori sleeve, making his heart flutter tenfold at the small action.

𝐎𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐈 𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

(you’ve seen his face without the bandages)

when you hand it to him, he’s on cloud nine. you even made kaburamaru! the snake seems to appreciate it, happily leaving obanai’s shoulders to rest on yours instead.

he practically begs to take you somewhere as thanks and to spoil you, because this gift from you has his face heating up and he wants to draw your attention away from it. and when you do agree (albeit reluctantly), his snake looks at him with a “lmao dude you’re freakin’ whipped”.

while walking, he notices that the bandages on the plushie are removable, asking you if it’s intentional.

“see for yourself,” were your words as he reluctantly removed them. he saw the bottom of the face littered in scars almost identical to the ones underneath his own bandages, with the words on the side of the bandages covering the doll’s face reading: “you’re beautiful, scars or no scars. and from what you’ve shown me, it’s the same on the inside.”

he swears that he could just faint right there and then.

𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐌𝐈 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐖𝐀

“tsk, what is this?”

you smile as he inspects it; watching his lips twitch, fighting the urge to curve upwards. “it’s a plushie of yourself.”

“you made this? for me?”

“yep!”

he looks anywhere but at you, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand as warmth bristles through; his ears turning red as he says, “it’s nice, i guess.”

“just ‘nice’?” you reply back, teasing his quick response. “maybe i should’ve just made a plushie for someone else, liiike… giyuu.” you grin, aware of the facade he’s pulling.

“don’t you dare. it’s amazing, i love it.” he spits out gruffly, but wholly truthful. “…thank you.” he thinly smiles, if not for you observing him you wouldn’t have noticed it.

“aww, you’re welcome!” you snicker.

he turns his head the other way, his face beginning to feel uncomfortably hot.

𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐎𝐊𝐔 𝐊𝐘𝐎𝐉𝐔𝐑𝐎

his plushie literally radiates sunshine, just like the original himself. when he receives it, he shouts the loudest thank you you’re ever going to hear.

talks about all the details and how much it embodies him. he adores it. then he asks if you could make one of you, so that they could be a pair together (AHHHH).

hugs you so tightly that you start to sweat from his body heat. but he means well!

eats with the plushie when you’re not with him. it reminds him of who made it and it just makes his food taste 100x better.

probably keeps it in his pocket and shows it to people like, “look what (y/n) made for me! :D” so that now so many people know who you are.

and when you make that replica of yourself for him? he just can’t get enough of how adorable it is. keeps it with him in his pocket too, it makes his day so much better whenever he sees it because it just radiates you.

𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐈 𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐑𝐎𝐉𝐈

squeals, she’s just so so so happy. her face turns this cute red and all she can do is just smother you with a hug because of her overwhelming excitement.

she dances around with it at first, screaming about how cute you made it and absolutely loving how you designed the doll to be just like her. you got her into the whole craft business, her new determination to make a doll of you to present to you! she hugs you one last time before rushing off with her new plan.

she quickly realizes that if she gives… whatever she made in her first attempt to you, it’d come across as an insult. so she spends countless days and nights (in between missions, of course) to perfect her gift to her beloved. and when she finally does…

…she gives it to you like a child showing their parent their artwork, except mitsuri’s present was better than just any children’s project.

she’s so giddy when you praise her for it, finally able to collapse from exhaustion when she gets home. but when you kiss her on the forehead, she knows that there’s no way she’s going to get a blink of sleep, especially not when that moment keeps replaying in her head throughout the rest of the day.

𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐁𝐔 𝐊𝐎𝐂𝐇𝐎

she’s calm and collected on the outside, having an emotional breakdown and desperately trying not to just tackle you and hug and kill you with kisses on the inside. her logical mind prevails unfortunately.

she dearly thanks you for the gift with the sweetest soft tint of pink on her face.

she takes it for walks around her estate, visiting patients, and when she needs to calm down. it just takes a few minutes with the plushie in her hands for her to think of you to become more relaxed.

she doesn’t take it in her lab, though— worried that something might happen to it. so instead, during those periods, she keeps it in her room in a secret place that only she knows about, because she’s a little paranoid that something may end up destroying it with all the people in the estate and all.

the next time you’re out on a mission? expect a parcel from her delivered by crow with your favorite (non-perishable) food, some trinkets and items you might enjoy, and a note that vaguely suggests her true feelings towards you.

she secretly prays that you’ll take the hint and ask her out.

𝐌𝐔𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐊𝐈𝐓𝐎

(reader is either same age or muichiro is aged up)

despite his flawed memory/memorizing issues, muichiro does a huge effort to not forget the plushie you gave him.

he’ll write himself notes, bring it with him everywhere, and he finds himself replaying moments with you and daydreaming in his mind more often about you with the doll around.

definitely falls asleep with it gently in his arms, held close to his chest. it helps him fall asleep faster and more comfortably knowing that something resembling your presence was so nearby.

his crow’s definitely jealous by this btw. but she respects you both so she doesn’t lay a claw on the plushie.

one day when you find him hugging the plushie close to him as he was walking around his estate, you decide to go up to him and hug him from behind. let’s just say, he got a lot more clingy after that, hugging the gift at night tighter to try to replicate that warm feeling your hugs always gave him.

overluvsick | please do not repost, translate, and/or claim my works as yours !!

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pearlcigs · 10 months

Text

⋆ make a woman out of me

christian!virgin!reader x ellie williams

summary ⋆ you swore to yourself you only longed for ellie in a platonic way, but as you get older you seem to realize just how pretty she really is.

warnings ⋆ 2.95k ⋆ smut, i might get cancelled 🤷‍♀️, reader (non penetrative) virginity loss, religious themes, ellie is 19, reader is 18, pastor's daughter!reader, mentions of homophobia, alludes to reader's parents being homophobic, ellie smokes weed, pet names (pretty girl, babe, honey, baby, good girl), cursing, first kiss, corruption, corruption kink, oral (r recieving)

time moved slowly within the parameters of jackson. the same familiar faces, day in and day out. though, it was comforting living in such a community. the horrors of the world beyond the walls that stood tall was something you rarely wanted to think about. it made you sick to your stomach to think of your friends, loved ones, even people you weren't particularly close with, outside of the safe walls, being face to face with whatever monsters marred the unhabitual world.

your parents were strict with religion, your father being the only self acclaimed paster that jackson has ever had to offer. there was never a time you could remember, even before finding refuge in the cozy town, where your parents weren't devout. vivid memories of your mother's fingers gliding over the cross necklace she wore around her neck when you would get in trouble. disappointed sighs and signs of the cross, begging the lord above for forgiveness, explaining to the sky you were too young to know what you've done was a sin.

the bible was followed closely in your home, and you obliged without caution. you prayed, attended your father's mass sessions in the tiny chapel just down the road where he preached the bible, wore the holy cross around your neck to show your devotion, you've read the old torn and withered bible you were so lucky to find front to back. religion was all you've ever known and you had found no reason to ever question the man who hung on your wooden walls, hanging from a cross with his hands and feed nailed to it like an animal. that was, until ellie.

"come on, don't you wanna jus' see what it feels like?" ellie teased, waving the joint in front of your face like a taunt. "no thank you." you replied, sitting at the foot of her bed, legs crossed, eyes wandering around her room. when ellie first came to jackson you were infatuated with her, dwindling it down to pure want but only of friendship. "good girl, that's what you say when someone offers you this shit." ellie moves the weed away from your face, inhaling it and then turning away to exhale the smoke away from you.

it started with just friendly smiles, offering to show her around and help her get to know everyone. she was wary of you. honestly, afraid of your friendly demeanor. people on the outside of the jackson walls were cruel and vicious, she thought, with no doubt in her mind, you were being friendly to lure her into some kind of trap. she danced around you with caution, keeping her distance but also decidingly giving you a chance. she quickly became fond of you, your personality, your looks. everything about you appealed to ellie and something about that made you proud, even more eager to befriend her.

the words 'good girl' ring from her mouth and you're not sure how to respond. was there even a proper response to your best friend calling you that? a simple nod was all you could come up with. watching her lips intently as she blew the smoke out of her lungs. your fingers came up to your neck, fiddling with the cross necklace around your neck, a habit passed down from your mother. ellie never paid much attention to your shy outlook on life. you were reserved and a part of her liked that she had so much of you to herself.

it wasn't until you were 17 that you finally came to terms with the fact that your infatuation was more than just a yearning to be her friend. tears of guilt streaming down your face in the confessional at the shoddy chapel, divider between you and the young volunteer who was ready to beg jesus to abolish your sins. "i'm a girl... and i like another girl." you sniffled, lowering the pitch of your voice instinctively so he wouldn't see past your anonymity. ache in your heart when silence was returned, until soft mutterings of a prayer, asking jesus to forgive your tainted heart.

ellie extended her arms behind her head, a small stretch that gave you big feelings. her shirt rode up, exposing the small of her stomach. you swallowed harshly, wondering why god would tempt you with something like this. a soft sigh emits from ellie's lips, flicking the almost finished joint into a nearby makeshift ashtray. another soft sigh falling from her perfect lips. intent eyes trying to be secretive of the no less then unholy thoughts that you were being tempted with.

ellie was put off at first by your fervent religion. her experiences were tainted, never having a good visual of what a healthy relationship with god looked like. she was unsure if you were going to try and convert her into some pious worshipper. you weren't secretive of your religion and that much was enough to make ellie suspicious. with time she realized you were different from the other religious people she's met. only bringing up your religion or anything to do with it when you were directly asked or if it was really important to speak about.

"whatchu lookin' at, pretty girl?" she chuckled as she noticed the way your eyes locked onto her, like if you looked away she'd be gone. it wasn't unusual for ellie to be flirty or to make casual remarks about how pretty you were. still, every time she did your cheeks were adorned in a rosy color. "just you, i guess. i dunno..." you answered back quickly, hoping that answer was enough to satisfy her eager curiosity. "yeah? just me? got something you wanna say to me?" she was just joking around, trying to get you riled up and flustered but you did have things you wanted to say to her.

"no." you answered, though you were sure she wasn't expecting an actual response. "no? yikes, babe, i'm hurt, thought we had somethin' real here." she smiled and you felt the butterflies in your stomach become tongue tied. one thing you loved about ellie above all things was her smile, how the skin around her eyes scrunched up just the tiniest bit, the apples of her cheeks becoming more prominent. everything about her smile made your head spin.

"els, i like you." the words slip out of your mouth before you could even process what was going on. her smile that coerced you to confess to her in the first place falters. "i'm sorry?" she questions, unsure if you meant what she thought you did. you had never said anything that led ellie to believe you were homophobic or that you thought all gay people were sinners like most of the older people who were religious in jackson did. but still she was careful to keep her sexuality from you, strongly assured you would take after your parents' stance on homosexuality.

"i... i don't know why i said that." you say, truthfully. mouth slightly agape and eyes widened with shock that you'd just outed yourself after years of trying to force down your feelings. there was a silence between the two of you. silence wasn't uncommon around each other, sometimes the both of you preferring to spend your time together quietly as a way to unwind after a treacherous day. but this silence was different than those times. ellies breath was caught in her throat, words jumbled on her tongue.

she only began reacting when she saw the panic on your face, followed by your eyes becoming glassy. "hey, hey. don't cry. it's okay." she comforted, sitting up and placing a hand on your knee. she wasn't good at comforting people, you were well aware of that. "i didn't mean to.." you admitted, voice timid and quiet, still uncertain to how she would react. "hey, it's okay, honey." the term of endearment sliding off her tongue like she was meant to call you that for the rest of your lives.

"i'm not mad." ellie affirms, her tone soft, knowing how afraid of other people's anger you are. another flash of silence emerges, just you and ellie staring at each other. neither of you knowing what to say. she pitied you, seeing how much you resented yourself. your bottom lip slotted between your teeth, biting hard enough to potentially draw blood. "don't do that..." she mutters, gently running her thumb over your partially chapped lips, pulling your bottom lip out of your teeth's grasp.

your breath hitches, a small shudder traveling up your spine. your eyes locked on hers, your heart beating loud enough for the whole world to hear. ellie's eyes flicker down to your lips and then back to your eyes. "i've liked you for a while." you admit, knowing there was no going back at this point. "oh, yeah?" her voice was low, some would even describe as seductive. her thumb still lingering on your bottom lip. "yeah." you whisper back, your eyes now flickering down to her lips.

ellie's hand moves to your jaw. her eyes flicking down to your lips one last time before she leans down and presses her lips against yours. her lips are soft, just like you had imagined. she seems skilled, like she knew what she was doing and what the end goal was. a small smile forming on her face as she realizes you have no idea what you're doing. “like this.” she mumbles against your lips acutely aware how clueless you were when it came to romance.

you follow her lead, doing your best to follow her lead. her free hand finding your waist, squeezing gently. you pull away, panting faintly. "i don't know.." you mumble, trailing off as ellie puts her lips back to yours. the hand that was on your jaw roaming to the back of your head, fingers getting tangled in your hair. "i know." ellie responds moments later, her lips brushing against your with each syllable. you couldn't comprehend what was happening, your mind going blank with ellie's lips on yours. she adored the way you looked at her. looking at her like you needed her.

she gently lays you back, grabbing the first pillow she could find and settling it under your head so you were comfortable. her thighs either side of your body, her body weight on top of you, giving you a cozy feeling you'd never experienced before. "you don't even know how long i've been wantin' to kiss your pretty lips..." she whispers, her bangs hanging in front of her face. you bring your hand up to her face, nervously tucking the hair behind her ear. "god, you're so fuckin'..." she stops, just taking a second to admire how alluring you looked under her.

her lips dip down to your neck, slowly biting and sucking on the skin. your breath hitches, a small whine pushing past your swollen lips. ellie groans against the skin of your neck. "make more of those pretty noises f'r me." she mumbles, hips rolling over yours, another whine spilling from you at the pleasurable feeling. ellie's kisses move away from your neck, down your body. trailing down your collarbone to your clothed chest to your stomach. her lips stop, hovering right above your pussy.

your heart was beating out of your chest, you back arching a little in anticipation. "how bad do you wan' it? tell me, baby. tell me how much you wan' me." she was totally and utterly obsessed with you, her mind becoming drunk by the thought of you— the mere sight of you. "p-please, els..." you mumbled, voice timid from embarrassment. it was partially expected though, you'd never done anything like this. "i want you..." it was simple but effective, making ellie go feral for you. "fuck—"

she lowers her lips to your pussy, kissing over the fabric of your shorts. watching her through hooded eyes, your pussy throbbing from her touch. "gonna eat this pussy s'good. show you what you've been missin' out on." she groans, the fabric of your shorts dampening as she trails her tongue over the sensitive area. ellie surprised herself, shocked that she was able to dirty talk to you so easily like this. your hips were writhing against the bed, more eager than you've ever been in your entire life. you felt dirty for wanting this, knowing that god was watching you become a total slut for ellie.

ellie's fingers hooked on your shorts, pulling them down slow as slow could be, chuckling as you whined. "ellie. ellie, please." you muttered, begging for her to hurry up. ellie's eyes rolled back, the sound of you begging getting her more aroused than she's ever been. no one's ever made her feel like this before. she was done with the teasing, if not for your sake but for hers. she pulled your shorts and underwear off swiftly, discarding them somewhere to find later.

her eyes locked on your bare pussy, fighting back a moan at the sight. "you've got me so fucked up, babe." she muttered, kissing around your thighs first. you were nervous, breath shallow and quick paced, hungry for ellie but embarrassed nevertheless. your voice was caught in your throat, blinking quickly as you watched ellie kiss all over your thighs. ellie looked up at you and you were able to see that she was just as nervous as you. "is this okay? you can tell me to stop." she sounded sincere, pushing aside her pure need to get your consent.

you nodded, not trusting your voice. "use your words like the good girl you are, yeah?" she's longing to just taste your glistening cunt. "yes— yes, els. 't's okay..." she doesn't waste another second after hearing your shaky voice, tongue urgently dipping between your wet folds. you moan at the contact, feeling like you were on cloud 9. ellie's tongue presses flat against your clit, your hand clamping over your mouth. moans being muffled as ellie savors the sweet noises your dripping cunt was making.

ellie wasn't fond of you muffling your perfect little sounds, wanting to hear just how good she could make you feel. "let me hear you. don't make me punish you.." you don't move your hand away from your sinful mouth. your free hand finds ellie's, interlocking your fingers which she gladly accepts. "c'mon, baby. let me hear you." she encourages once more, lips moving against you with ease, mixture of your wetness and her spit. but to her dismay, you still ignored her commands. her free hand sliding your shirt up your body to expose your breasts, you were never one to wear a bra. her hand kneading the supple flesh, thumb running over your nipple.

she licks a strip from your entrance to your clit, making your thighs shake with immense pleasure. "wanna be a brat?" she mumbles into your pussy, looking up at you through her eyelashes, staring you down as her tongue circles your clit. "what is it they make you do in confession? hail mary's? 5 of 'em, now. or i stop." she smirks, watching the look in your eye become more flustered by her request. you slowly move your hand away from your mouth, not wanting this pleasure to ever stop.

"h-hail mary, full of grace—" you cut yourself off with a moan, eyes squeezing shut as you lift your hips, pushing your cunt further into ellie's face. "get to ruin this pretty pussy." ellie groans. "keep goin'. don't stop." she aids you to continue, feeling your cunt flutter around her tongue. "the lord is with— is with thee..." you continue, stuttering through the words. "good girl, keep goin' f'r me. let me hear you." she continues to egg you on, talking into your pussy. her own moans mixing in with the sound of yours.

"blessed art thou— ellie, please..." you whine, squeezing her hand and throwing your head back into the pillow, back arching off the bed. "c'mon, pretty girl. blessed art thou..." you toes curl at her words and the feeling of her tongue teasing your entrance. "—amongst... amongst women..." you trail off, mind becoming to hazy to even remember the words to the prayer you've prayed everyday since you could talk. ellie smirked into your cunt, relishing in the feeling of being able to turn your mind into mush, being the only one able to turn your mind into mush.

your moans and whines became breathier and higher pitched with each flick of her tongue. your stomach twisting in an unfamiliar knot. "ah, ah, ellie—" your thighs trying to clench together and push her head away, the feeling becoming too much. "you're gonna cum, baby?" she spreads your legs wider, her only greedy want is to make pleasure wash over you. "ellie! ellie! ellie!" you chant her name, eyes rolling back as the pleasurable wave of your orgasm finally hits you, moans loud and unfiltered.

"there we go... yeah, nice an' easy. fuck." she mutters, tongue fucking you through your high until your writhing and pushing her off of you. her lips relocating to your thighs and slowly working their way up to your pelvic bone, soft kisses against your skin. "tasted so good, baby. best pussy i've ever had." she praises, eager to show you just how much you pleasured her even though you technically didn't make her cum. "els..." you whined, face flushed a rosy red. "yeah, baby. 'm right here." she leaves a trail of kisses up your body as she reaches your lips, leaving a soft peck to let you know she was here. "does this mean you like me too...?" you asked innocently. "are you serious?"

another christian!reader x ellie williams fic!

#🍄 ⋆ the last of us #🕰️ ⋆ birds and bees #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #the last of us #the last of us x reader #the last of us smut #tlou #tlou x reader #tlou smut #ellie wiliams #ellie williams x you #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie smut #ellie x reader smut

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serawritesthings · 9 months

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hi! Sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language. I don't know if you're accepting requests, if you not, just ignore. But I'm wondering how you would write something related to a jealous Arthur Morgan, high honor of course (with smut or without smut sincerely you know what looks best). the way you write is addictive and passionate, i believe anything you write from this would be great.

OUR DEAR, GREEN LITTLE FRIEND

Pairing | Arthur Morgan x Fem! Reader Summary | Oh, jealousy. When the thought of you straying too close to the comfort of Charles, the green monster claws its way into Arthur's head. Tags | sexual content 18+ minors dni, tiny bit of angst, description of violence and wounds, fluffy at times, smut Word Count | 10k A/N | Hi everyone! I just HAD to write this request, hope you like it! Also, thank you dearly anon♡

While many found the biting cold of the climate north of West Grizzlies to be bitter–sharp air seeping into your very bones–you saw it oddly liberating despite the current predicament. The circumstance was dire, indeed, and you pondered many times if this would finally be the end for all of you, thinking of the incredible luck you had managed to have so far. Fate, or an astonishingly fascinating knowledge on how to escape the grappling arms of the law with a suspicious amount of people trashing through the roads in utter, sheer panic.

Glancing around you as you huddled closer to the fire, hands rubbing furiously against the wool of your gloves to gain even the slightest warmth to your biting fingers, you were met with the flushed cheeks of your comrades. The skin that now glistened from the melting snowflakes was caressed by the warm, orange glow from the flames lighting up the small hut you had taken residence in.

The road leading to here had been long, and the time spent in the wagon that did nothing to shield you from the penetrating wind that howled into the night, your thoughts had been entirely focused on the man who now lay dead a few meters away, tucked in some fabric to shield the paling flesh of a corpse. While the thought might not make you uncomfortable, it did its thing on the others who looked weary at the covered man.

You had done your best to tend to him amidst the severe trembling of your fingers and numbness spreading through you the longer you rode in the worrying storm, finding his blood still staining the cotton of your gloves–a reminder that you had done what you could to help the poor fellow. Despite not knowing him well enough to shed a tear, death was still a death, and a slight melancholy set its claw in all of you as you tried to regain some warmth.

“Stupid man.” Glancing beside you, you took notice of the dark-haired woman muttering angrily as she held a sleeping Jack close to her body.

“What’s wrong?” You inquired quietly, curious of her obvious disdain.

“John Marston is what’s wrong.” Blazing heatedly into the fire, you could almost see the depths of hell through her furious eyes. “He didn’t come back with the rest.” Shifting her eyes to yours for a quick moment that, although short, showed the worry hidden beneath her anger.

Nodding slowly as you leaned against her slightly in comfort, you realized you hadn’t taken notice of the man’s absence until now. Returning with empty hands and another mouth to feed had instead been the case, no Marston as far as the eyes could see as he probably whirred around in the blizzard somewhere.

“Do you think he…” As you spoke, you trailed off, growing unsure of your words while realizing your comments might be prodded into a sensitive subject.

“No.” Firmly, she sniveled harshly, shaking her head in protest. “No, he wouldn’t leave again.” Although her words were sure, you still felt a lingering doubt cloud your mind, remembering being told of his earlier departure from the gang that caused more scars in their relationships than good–not that it wasn’t faulty from the very start.

As you were about to let your prying win against your common sense, you were interrupted by the door being audibly slammed open, the noisy winds from outside growing louder as snowflakes whirled inside. Walking inside was the prominent figure of Charles, nodding respectfully to its residents as the door shut behind him, once more letting the warmth settle.

“Folks.” He mumbled quietly, treading through everyone huddling by the fire as he glanced curiously at the new woman before settling beside you. You glanced up at him, taking in his snow-covered self before lingering on his hand that rested motionless on his legs, bandages visible under his gloves.

“It’s not too bad; the cold seems to numb the pain.” A slight smile graced your lips at his observance, finding it unique to the man to be so tentative to everyone around him. Letting out a small laugh, you reach to remove your gloves before taking his hand in yours so you could lay it in your lap, unwrapping the bandages to examine the burns covering his skin.

You had given it a quick look-over before you had to tend to Davey, doing the best you could to ease his pain you were sure would be unavoidable. Although the sight was quite gruesome, it didn’t look as bad as you had expected.

“You’re stronger than me, that’s for sure. I would be a crying mess if I burned my hand like that.” Your voice was gentle as you started to rewrap the fabric around his hand, finding it increasingly irritating you didn’t have the tools you usually did that would indeed do a fine job at lessening his pain.

You had managed to gain a slight smile from the otherwise aloof man, probably finding your words humorous. “Let’s hope it’ll never come to that.”

Sharing a look, you heard the door open once again, the irritated voice of Uncle damning whoever was letting in the cold for the second time. Both you and Charles laughed slightly, and as you looked up, you were faced with a pair of squinting, blue eyes, the icy cold from the outside seemingly enhancing their sharpness although making a welcomed warmth spread through you as they gazed over you in a quick motion–departing to look at the hand that rested in your lap.

“A sad loss, folks,” Hosea stated as he stepped onto the wooden planks, speaking out loudly in the otherwise calm hut, groaning as he helped Arthur lift Davey’s lifeless body, limp like a ragdoll.

Glancing subtly, you observed him as Arthur’s bulky form lifted easily, unlike Hosea, admiring how he made it seem so effortless. The others called him the camps workhorse, and you didn’t fail to see why, keeping your eyes firm on the man as he carried him towards the door.

He shrouded you in uncertainty; he did, and you weren’t sure how to behave in his bold presence. You often felt like a goody two shoes, and even though you weren’t the perfect picture of a law-abiding citizen, you could honestly say you were a wimp compared to Arthur.

You should be embarrassed, you really should, but there was something in his eyes– something that made your heart race. Utterly shameless, yet desperate to lock gazes again despite contradicting yourself and avoiding them every chance you could. Before you could get caught this time, you directed your eyes, focusing on tightening the bandages so they wouldn’t come loose.

“Try to be careful, will you, Charles?” You spoke quietly while patting his hand, motioning that he was all set to go, but his hand stayed, giving you a grateful look.

“Thank you.” His soothing voice was hushed as the loud bang of the door slammed shut not long after, ridding you of the tumult after their departure.

–

Oh, it burned. It burned so deep in his loins that it felt like he would erupt into flames any second. Despite the cold surrounding him, he was sure it could be possible the more he was left with his thoughts. The hushed whispers, the soft touches, and the ever-so-gentle look in your eyes made him want to empty the little food in his stomach.

“Sneaky little rat,” Arthur grumbled to himself as he shoveled his way through the deep layers of snow. Here he was, out in the cold, tortured by the howling winds of the snowstorm, while Charles remained inside the warmth of the hut, seated next to you, all because of a slight burn.

He knew what he was up to–what any man would do if it meant getting your attention–and he wasn’t humored. Taking advantage of your good nature was downright uncalled for, bordering on immoral, which Arthur would probably realize wasn’t Charles’s character if his mind didn’t seek to find faults with the man the more his blood boiled.

He scoffed to himself, stabbing the ground maliciously, imagining your warm hands around his instead, the nimble fingers of yours tending to him as you moved in closer, your sweet smell reaching his nose as you gazed up at him, face blushed from the cold with lips begging him to warm them up with his. The thought did nothing more than cover his whole body in shivers, only to be reminded that it wasn’t him that received that attention from you.

“What are you huffing about over there, Arthur?!” Hosea’s strained voice attempted to shout over the loud winds, standing up to rest momentarily.

“Why don’t we just bury him when the storm has settled?!” Annoyance was apparent in his voice, the green jealous monster still wreaking havoc in his mind.

“I told you, the snow will be too heavy tomorrow, so we need to finish it while we still can!” He groaned, starting to shovel once more. “And I’ll be damned, we are going to give Davey a proper burial. He deserves that much!”

As Hosea blabbered on about justice and other forms of respect Arthur had no intent on listening to, he zoned out, feeling sorry for himself as he imagined you might be keeping close to Charles right this moment, warming yourself to his body in a desperate search of bodily heat. Rubbing the melted snow off his face, Arthur damned the heavens above for making him the unluckiest bastard in the West.

Despite Arthur seeming dead set on you being lovey-dovey with a man you barely knew, Charles had left you after making some small talk, mentioning that he would try and get some well-deserved rest after the tumultuous past few days. Many others did as well, attempting to ease their minds from the constant threat against their back amidst the terrible cold.

Although, as days passed and John being back rid you of Abigail’s constant muttering, the cold only seemed to take its toll on you, unlike the others who quickly got used to the environment. Furthermore, the days only seem to get longer up in the mountains, and you wondered obsessively when you would get the chance to leave–damning everyone who thought seeking out Colm O’Driscoll in your compromised state a good idea instead of moving forwards.

Despite your dismay, you put yourself to use like the others, preparing to help Pearson in the grim act of cutting through the poor deer that had been brought back. While the sight gladdened you, knowing you would finally get a meal in your stomach, the brooding aura of a chestnut-haired, blue-coated man seemed to rain over you endlessly.

What could you have done to gain his stinging glare? It was almost cutting through you entirely from the burning that resided deep in his eyes, watching you ferociously, making your hair stand on edge. When he had returned with Charles, it had been nothing short of unpleasant ever since, although thankfully–despite his glare–his harsh words were directed towards Pearson instead of you, which you were glad for.

“How’s the cold treating you?” Glancing away from the two men bickering, you laughed slightly at Charles’s innuendo, dressed worse for wear as you pulled the thick, woolen scarf tighter around your neck, hugging yourself to keep warm.

“Could be worse, I guess,” you said, clouds like smoke surrounding you as you talked.

“I suppose. Still, I don’t want you freezing your fingers off.”

“Mhh,” you nodded thoughtfully, speaking up after silence. “Who would look after your hand if that happened?”

He chuckled heartily at your unsuspected joke, and you glanced up at him bashfully, a light smile covering your face at his apparent amusement. While your embarrassment of being so easily swayed by the cold, it felt nice having someone take notice of your obvious discomfort, even though you would say you were pretty good at keeping it to yourself. You couldn’t be surprised, though, well aware you and Charles were both tentative to your surroundings, always knowing but rarely telling.

“Here.” Taking off the large gloves covering his hand, no doubt doing an excellent job keeping him warm, he grabbed your trembling hands in his, rubbing them between his pleasant temperature hand and bandage-covered skin before gliding the fabric over yours.

“No, Charl-” you protested, trying to stop him from continuing.

“They’ll do you more good than me, I promise. They’re just in the way.” Stubbornly, he planted your hands back into your lap, petting them like you had done to him some nights ago before raising with a huff.

“Thanks for the help, Arthur.” Charles nodded at the now grumpy man observing him as he rested against the wood of the wooden wall with arms crossed, seemingly ignoring Mr. Pearson’s lecture about the navy he felt so strongly about, only providing a quick tilt of his hat before heated eyes were set on you.

Your gaze faltered, the blush on your face from the cold only intensifying the spread of warmth you felt from gaining his profound stare–something you rarely took notice of. It wasn’t that he didn’t look at you; he probably looked too much at times, but he was never so ardent with it, scrutinizing you under their heavy weight–making you feel ten times smaller under his towering height.

“Well, why don’t you skin the deer, Arthur? I’ll help you cut them up in a while, miss.” Mr. Pearson’s words were hasty, and you didn’t miss the bottle glistening under the sunlight as he tried hiding it behind his coat, scurrying away. He would, in fact, not be back; you were sure of that much.

It wasn’t often you found yourself alone with Arthur, and you never strayed too close, finding his presence somewhat daunting. Not that you’ve had many chances to speak amidst all the chaos surrounding you, and being relatively new to the gang meant the trust lacked significantly from both sides. But, the intrigue was always present in every glance and movement.

You felt his gaze fixed on you a moment longer as you stared heedlessly at your hands, rubbing them together anxiously, having no clue what to do with yourself. While you weren’t one to speak the ears of others, you never had any problem socializing with those around you–but Arthur, he was something else entirely. Finally, though, he moved, approaching the hanging carcass.

“How are ya?” His sudden words surprised you, hanging awkwardly in the air.

“Oh, um. Good?” You cringed at yourself, finding the words stuck in your throat as his voice rumbling was loud and confident.

“Cold?”

“A bit,” you said softly, staring at his back as he heaved the skin away from the animal, movements rigid and harsh. “Charles gave me his gloves, so it’s a little less chilly now.” You stumbled over your words, admiring his strength unabashedly as he hauled the skinned deer over his shoulder, slamming it down the table with a loud bang. He gave you no answer, instead bringing out the knife in his belt to do the job you were assigned to.

“Oh, let me!” Standing abruptly from your seat, you stepped towards him hurriedly in shame, feeling like you were just lazying around while Arthur was doing all the hard work.

Grabbing his thick coat to let you take his position, you found him staying right where he was, looking down at you when your hand rested on his bicep. It was unusual for him to be so close, and a blush warmed your cheeks as his towering frame became more apparent when standing a short distance from one another.

“S’alright.” He spoke lowly. “I’ve got it.”

Your breath got caught in your throat as he gazed wholly at you, letting you know he had no problem with helping you. It warmed you, finding his action kind–just like the small acts of kindness he reserved for the other girls. You would sometimes glare after them, intensely jealous that Arthur seemed to have a soft spot for them, yet acting like you didn’t exist.

“Anything else I can do to help since you just did my job for me?” A shy smile found you, peering up at him as he sniveled, glancing at you while you sat on the bench again.

“Well, you’ve already done your charity work for the day, so you’re fine.”

“Charity work?” You wondered, staring at him curiously as he cut through the meat. “What do you mean?”

He only sighed heavily, like you should be able to understand his cryptic words.

“He won’t die from a small burn; it ain’t enough reason to coddle the man like a child,” he grumbled.

It took you a while to get the gears turning, but when you did, you felt yourself grow shy from his statement. “Charles? His hand isn’t looking too good…”

“Yeah? Well, you shouldn’t be so forward. You’ll give the poor man false hope.” He scoffed, stabbing the poor carcass harshly.

Staring at his back in disbelief at the sudden hatred, you had trouble understanding where it came from and why he suddenly grew so invested in whom you diverted your attention. You and Arthur rarely spoke, only changing quick words occasionally ever since you found yourself staying with the gang, and for that reason, you had failed to understand the reason for his hatred.

It seems all you ever did was look after everyone else, paying attention to their various troubles and tribulations regarding bodily harm. It wasn’t strange to you, and by no means did you give anyone false hope, merely trying to find your place with these people, an attempt to prove your usefulness.

“False hope?” You questioned, baffled. “I’m trying to help; I fail to understand how that is a problem.”

“It ain’t a problem!” He grumbled, voice roaring hotly in his chest as he resheathed his knife and began to make his way out, repositioning his hat without glancing at you. You followed him, stopping short by the table as you didn’t want to stray too close to the fuming man.

“Well, it is since you are so angry about it?!” If this was how he carried out every conversation, you were glad the exchange of words wasn’t typical between you, more so the simple fact that your company had never seemed to bring him any enjoyment. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Wha-” He stops short, suddenly turning around and stalking towards you in significant strides. Gasping at suddenly having him so close, you backed away; his sharp eyes penetrated you as the warm blue of his orbs turned ice cold, glaring daggers into your own.

“What’s wrong with me?” He spoke dangerously low as his brows raised, grabbing your upper arms as he hoisted you up the table without an ounce of struggle. “I’m not the one taking every small, insignificant chance to take advantage of your good nature.”

“Charles’s not like that. He’s very kind.” You spoke in his defense, leaning back from his prolonged stare that seemed to cut through you deeper the more he stared. You had always pitied the people who got on Arthur’s lousy side, finding his presence at those times unnerving.

Now, it seemed you were at the receiving end of it, and while it chilled you to the bones, you weren’t sure if your beating heart were because of fear or the thought of him being the closest to you he’d ever have.

You had never quite got to admire his eyes, always hidden under his furrowed brows and squinting eyes. Now that it wasn’t because of the blazing sun down west, it was from the blaring whiteness of the snow surrounding you as you found his eyes glaring at the current climate more often than not–displeased.

His eyes being dead set on you didn’t help as you could hear his breathing grow heavier, the warmth of his breath hitting your cold cheeks as his broad frame blocked the chilly winds from reaching you.

“Kind, huh?” Although momentarily distracted, you recovered as you heard him speak in a low voice, still finding his assumptions wildly out of reach while insulting you and Charles. Times were hard, and if you couldn’t look after one another, it would surely lead to your doom–Arthur, if anyone, should know that.

“Yes, kind.”

Rubbing his eyes with one hand, he backed away from you, shrugging his shoulders while walking away–like your conversation hadn’t happened in the first place.

“Sure.”

–

It wasn’t like Arthur didn’t know how to restrain himself, for he applauded himself for avoiding his apparent anger when Charles had, yet again, stolen away your attention–not that Arthur had any plans on striking up a conversation with you anyway.

It became clear to him that when you two were left alone, you almost turned into a living statue, barely responding to him. It was unlike you, for the time he had spent observing you, you had no problem talking to anyone else–and although it was usually calm, it never deterred you from gaining the likes of the others and liking them in return.

Why did you cringe away from him and not Charles, he pondered, glaring at the picture that plagued his mind. The reason he knew, deep down, but his stubbornness didn’t let him justify your actions. In all honesty, Charles was a more reliable man than himself, intentions often apparent with a slight sense of, well, goodness perhaps—something Arthur didn’t possess in the slightest.

Goodness, in all honesty, wasn’t something he was too familiar with, and he didn’t doubt one second that you found his character to be callous, seeing as the dirty work no one wanted to do fell upon him; work everyone else found to be too cruel to do themselves. He could almost feel your disapproving gaze when he picked up his slack from Mr. Strauss’s poor victims that he always tried to prolong, and while it wasn’t his most favorable way of lending a hand, sometimes he did it out of spite.

If that’s what you thought about him, then he couldn’t do much to sway your opinion, finding it much easier to continue with his ways than realize that your sudden carefulness off him wounded him more profoundly than he let on.

And, he was indeed a harsh man in your eyes, and although his company wasn’t entirely unwished for, he was still grim–ignoring your presence like you weren’t there most of the time. It made you wildly unsure of him, but the allure he had kept bringing you back, always wondering when you would see a glimpse of him again. You chastised yourself for it, more so now that you got a taste of his famously sullen mood that pestered everyone around him, but your eyes were still drawn to him when he was nearby.

Maybe it wasn’t what everyone else would describe him as, but you thought of him as mysterious. Gods, you have stayed with this group for quite some time now. Not once had he spoken to you more than the standard greeting, and you didn’t know much about him besides the sharp-shooting, brutal force of a man who had no problem letting his thoughts be voiced, even though the listeners might be less inclined to its harsh deliverance.

He had been cruel, sure, but you couldn’t help but remember how close you had been before when he spewed words that clung so viciously from his tongue. Faintly, you remembered the deep scent of gunpowder and smoke, something you were certain probably penetrated his skin by now, but also the slightly musky scent hidden underneath. Your head raced in curiosity, wondering how his hands would grab you if it wasn’t in anger. Was he even capable of that, you pondered.

It’s ridiculous you knew those thoughts were born from misconceptions and assumptions. You had heard how he behaved amongst the camp women, forever gentle and careful, and you had sharpened your ear when you’d been told timidly about his earlier flings. He could be more heartfelt than your head let you acknowledge, and the thought made your head spin even more with your endless imagination.

Despite the inner turmoil that filled you from your earlier argument, you had avoided him for some days now, and it seemed to grow easier the colder you got, huddling close to the fire with every chance. It was the only thing keeping your thoughts occupied, wondering when you would get to leave this desolated mining town that grew more covered in snow the longer you chose to stay.

“Do you need help, Hosea?” Just after you spoke, heavy blankets were handed to you, the fabric made from a thick wool that looked heavenly. “Yes, thank you. I take one step outside; I fear that it will be the end of me.” You only stared warmly at Hosea, who patted you on the back. “Don’t you worry, miss. We found more blankets we thought had been lost in that dreadful storm, so we all will sleep warmer tonight.”

“Oh, of course, I’ll help-” Despite the whistling winds that had picked up as the sun shone its last tendrils, you didn’t oppose the idea, but you were interrupted by a mischievous look handed to you by the older man.

“Make sure Arthur grabs one, too; you know how he gets.” Before you could question his meaning, he slunk away, pulling the warm fabric tighter around his shoulders without a glance at you, chuckling merrily. You chose not to ponder too hard on his strange ways, instead making your way to the door, shivering badly as you stepped outside.

Smiles were all you were greeted with as you handed them off, and it was no surprise as it was a welcome sight to everyone to gain some extra warmth to wrap around themselves. Although feeling content by being of help, you couldn’t help but wonder where Arthur could be, a single blanket now left in your hands.

Grumbling to yourself, you stepped out from the hut Dutch and Molly resided in, glancing at a smaller building some paces away, finding the orange glow of a candle lighting up the smaller barn where the horses were kept. A small smile found you, finding it very fitting for him to be where there were fewer people.

Although slightly fearing what could come to be an awkward encounter, you found yourself being too forgiving many times, and you damned yourself for it. What he said hurt you deeply, making you ponder if you had given Charles other signals than intended. It could be a possibility, yet you had never had too many romantic dealings with men to presume that that was the case, but his eyes held something tender the last few times you spoke as you recalled it.

“Arthur…” As you stepped inside after pulsing through the thick snow, you searched for the blue coat you had grown familiar with in this weather. “Are you here?” You asked quietly, wondering if he could hear you.

You cautiously stepped further into the barn, placing your feet steadily on the ground before you so you didn’t slip and embarrass yourself. It was friendly out here, you could admit, the snow muting every sound and almost making every slight sound caress your ears.

As you stepped further inside, it turned out he was here, and he took no notice of you as you rounded the corner to gaze at his seated form, seemingly writing something in his journal. It was an unusual sight. Sometimes, you observed him as he wrote in his journal back at camp, yet you didn’t make a habit of it, too shy to question him at the time.

How he didn’t freeze to death in this climate was beyond you, his fingers bare as he scribbled, fingertips red from the cold and dirty from the chalk. You made a motion to speak up once again but found yourself tongue-tied as you took him in, and as you did, the thought struck you that he wasn’t writing but drawing.

How unlike him, you thought, watching his brows furrowed from time to time, fingers moving expertly while the soft glow of the candle beside him almost softened his features. Your presumptions might be harsh, but you had never found him to be a man well-versed in the creative aspect of life, and while the brutal ways of his life spoke for him, you found it to make him slightly more approachable.

“I didn’t know you draw.” You stated fondly, his eyes fitting into yours the moment the first word left your mouth, growing visibly stressed as the journal was planted into his coat pocket. A rough cough left him as he did, eyes faltering when he saw your observant gaze linger on him unabashedly.

“I don’t.” A small laugh left you at his abrupt words, not teasingly but perhaps warmly, choosing not to bug him since he grew uncomfortable before your questioning eyes.

You were given an expectant look that reminded you of your actual business here as you stepped inside the building, closing the barn door behind you to shut out the wind that somehow managed to find its way through the cracks in the walls.

“Here, we found some more blankets. Hosea asked me to bring you one.” You met his eyes briefly as you stretched out your arms for him to take the blanket, eyes faltering to it at his piercing gaze.

“Hosea, huh?” A scoff left him, resuming his arms to cross over his chest, shaking his head slightly. “You keep it.”

“No, I-”

“Nah, you chattering your teeth keeps us up at night. Take it.”

His words should have taken you back since his voice was stinging, but a light laugh left you, knowing he was right. Wrapping yourself in the soft, warm blanket, you surprised Arthur by sitting beside him, heavily clad shoulders touching each other as you did.

“I don’t understand.” You stated, staring at the large shadows that flickered on the wooden wall before you. “How can you not be cold? I feel like if I spend one more day out here, I’ll freeze to death.”

You turned your head towards him, caught off guard when you felt his gaze already set intensely on you. Your eyes faltered to his chest, growing shy as you always did when you had his attention on you. It wasn’t unwanted, but you didn’t know what to do with yourself in moments like that, unused to the fire that always burned so deep in his eyes.

“Used to it, I guess.” His voice rumbled hotly in his chest, fingers flexing against his will as he took the chance to observe you. He had never had the opportunity to see your face this close. Your wet lashes clung together as you blinked, undoubtedly from the heavy snowfall outside, framing your eyes that Arthur always noticed were so very easy to read, yet at many moments also locked away.

“I don’t believe you.” How could anyone possibly get used to this? It was raw, pure torture.

You didn’t get an answer, and as you returned your gaze towards the wall, Arthur’s eyes found your features again. He had indeed been cold before you came, but it was his only chance to find a moment of peace; the thought of spending another night in that god-forsaken hut with his dear friend and his lover giggling the night away grew incredibly distasteful.

Here, he could finally hear his thoughts, the solitude of the snow muting every sound heavenly; the only noise was the familiar scribbling in his journal as he wrote about the past few days. Though his head was calmer than before, he still dreamt of your fingers encasing his like they had done Charles, the small, elegant touches rising his arms slowly, making him shiver wildly as the scene flashed before his eyes.

He knew he shouldn’t think of you like that, and he certainly had no right to be angry at Charles since he felt so unabashedly filthy things about you, but he couldn’t help it. Your every scent, every motion set his blood afire; small deeds of good you always found yourself doing so harshly contrasted his actions he couldn’t help the fact that you intrigued his whole being.

So good, so… soft and warm. As he stared at you, all he wanted was to reach out and pull you closer to him so he could feel your shivering body close to him, knowing many ways to warm you up. Sighing, he removed his hat, running his fingers through his hair as the thoughts took a turn he always hated himself for.

“Hey, I uh…” Arthur trailed off, finding the words he wanted to speak stuck in his throat. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way, like I did back then.” He stared before him, yet he felt your eyes heavy on his.

He did feel bad, and it had been the reason for his brooding temper since then, not coming to terms with his wrongdoings until now. He had probably scared you, he concluded, and could only assume he was right as you had done your utmost to avoid him as of late.

“Don’t be,” you said with a light smile, not expecting his apology, even though he didn’t say sorry directly. “It’s a lot right now, I understand. But I still don’t understand why you’re so angry at Charles.” You were briefly met with a light sigh, eyes flickering to yours before diverting the flickering candle.

“Nah, forget it. Just me being stupid is all.”

“I don’t think you’re stupid. Maybe you’re mean sometimes and grumpy,” you said, giving him a teasing glance. “But not stupid.”

A scoff left him at your words, yet you could see the corners of his mouth chirp up lightly. “You’d be surprised.”

As your snickering died down, you rested your head on the wall behind you, not wanting to leave the quiet comfort you found yourself in nor the conversation that panned on longer than you had anticipated, much to your surprise.

“Why are you out here if you are so cold, girl?” He questioned you, catching a glimpse of your almost blue lips. “Go on inside; you’ll freeze to death if you stay here.” It would be best for you to return because he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if his thoughts progressed like they did before in your presence. As he placed the hat on his head again, he glanced down quickly, doing a double take as he found you staring at him.

Was the cold finally getting to your head, or was it simply being in the presence of the man you were so unsure of but wildly intrigued by? You couldn’t tell, but the warmth spreading in your stomach as he glanced down at you spread ferociously through your stomach, almost warming you to your fingertips.

Suddenly, Arthur moved his arm slightly, and the motion made you jump, leaning away from him as you unconsciously drew closer to him. You couldn’t tell, but it almost felt like your body sometimes contradicted your mind, defying your sense of morality.

“Are you afraid of me?” He questioned, gazing at you unexplainably. Both of your breaths were audible in the quiet night, blowing like smoke out your mouths as the world around you blurred. It wasn’t like Arthur couldn’t contain himself around women, but you were something else entirely. Only in his wildest dreams did you stare at him like that, like you were expecting–waiting– for him to do something.

Yet, you looked guarded, like a cornered lam, waiting for the right moment to sprint away. You pulled away, only to lean in further, the cogs in your head turning something so awful in your mind, observing his every move yet not registering your own that reached out to him.

And gods, did he want to do the same; his internal battle proved to be more difficult as your hand gripped his coat tightly, only wanting to warm your blue lips with his own and show you how he could warm you up better than Charles’s damned gloves ever could.

“Sometimes.” You let on, voice shaking from both anticipation and uncertainty.

Leaning down towards you hesitantly, he felt hot all over when he realized you didn’t shy away from him like expected, mouth only parting further as he drew closer. As you did, you felt your breath hitch when a hand was placed on your upper back, Arthur’s weight only making you glide further down the wall until your head was resting in the crook of his elbow.

“Arthur…” He was so close now you could almost feel his heartbeat through the vast amount of clothing, breath hitting your cold, blushing cheeks as he leaned closer, the calling of his name only drawing him in. He was sure you had bewitched him, for not a single thought in his mind was about anything but the woman in front of him, entirely and utterly overtaken by what was solely you.

And through those few moments between frustration and desperation, all senses of logic disappeared as the skin of your lips conjoined, drawn together like magnets that snapped together like they never wanted to be apart again. Eyes grew shut, the only sound now the deep humming in Arthur’s chest as your hands found his cheeks, caressing the chilly skin under your palm with your thumbs.

It was ragged and scarred, a deep contrast to your own that had never tasted the metal of a gun and the blood of a foe, and the thought made a gasp rise in your throat as his weight fell heavier onto yours, pressing you into the hay-filled, snowy ground.

“Tell me to stop.” He grunted against your now wet lips, only taking a second before joining them again. He was covering your entire body as he lay above you, resting his weight on his elbows as your head rested on his arm.

“No…” You mumbled, words almost not audible against his desperate mouth, feeling just as affected by the desire as he did. You felt his face scrunch up almost painfully before he took the hand that rested on your back to glide under your coat, resting it on the side of your waist as he stroked gently, feeling the curves that hid underneath the damned fabric.

It was torture. It was an unexplainable torture that you would freeze to death if he removed the clothes that covered you, and he would surely go insane if he couldn’t feel the skin he imagined would be so very soft under his rough fingers. Just a taste, he thought sinfully to himself, slowly lifting the fabric of your shirt from under your skirt’s waistband, worming a freezing hand inside to feel the warmth that hid underneath.

You gasped at the sudden sensation but were quickly silenced as his tongue massaged your own, and the slight moan that left you only made a groan rumble loudly in his chest. The feeling of his cold hand rose your skin, stroking every bit it came across as if memorizing it to his brain, mapping out every single inch.

It was too much for you, the sheer desperation and want, not knowing what to do with yourself or how to dampen the intense feelings that nailed your firm to the ground. Every bit of you grew into static, and every touch from Arthur sent shockwaves through your body as his fingers caressed you.

“Come here.” Opening your eyes, you found his, although lidded with desire, gentle eyes gazing into yours, pulling his hand reluctantly from your waist to help you sit up. “I won’t let you lay on the ground.”

You only stared at him as he seated you on his lap, chest flush against his as his hands stroked along your arms as if to warm you up, tightening the blanket around your shoulders. You felt your heartbeat pick up at his actions, your stomach fluttering fiercely as he ensured you stayed warm.

You could tell he grew wildly unsure as you remained silent, clearing his throat as if he had been in a daze before speaking.

“If you’ll have me, that is.” You didn’t give him a chance to say more, hands finding sanction in his hair as the motion knocked off his hat, exposing the sandy locks he always kept hidden underneath it.

“Stupid question.” You mumbled softly against his mouth, pressing yourself closer to him as your fingers started fiddling with the buttons on his coat. You could already feel the heat emitting, and your fingers grew hasty as you tried to move faster, the motion of your lips faltering against his eager ones.

You would have been ashamed if it weren’t for Arthur being just as stressed about getting the buttons of your coat loose, hands wounding their way around your waist and pressing you closer to him the moment they became undone. Likewise, you wormed your arms under his shoulder, gasping as you felt the heat buried underneath the fabric, hugging him close as you placed your face into the crook of his neck.

Breathing in your scent, Arthur revealed in the way you nuzzled against him, feeling a warmth spread in his groin when the thick coat didn’t keep the pressure of your middle away from him any longer. It was heaven, he concluded, trailing his hands down to your backside as he caressed the curves, pushing you flush against his.

Oh, how he reveled in it. He was selfish; there was no denying it any longer, but he craved you so profoundly it would eat him up bit by bit if he couldn’t have you. It wasn’t about Charles any longer; it was about the fact that you had never spared him a glance, almost bordering on fearing him, deciding that everyone else company had been much safer than his own.

He knew it and had seen it in your eyes countless times. Arthur wasn’t unfamiliar with the look of utter horror plastered on people’s faces, for he faced it every day, and he wanted nothing more than to show you that you had no reason to feel that way with him, for he would never put a single finger that was unwished for on you.

And he couldn’t possibly hold it against you, for he wasn’t a good man, quite the opposite actually, and every lingering touch made him hate himself even more, wishing you would find it in you to push away from him–let him know that if he ever touched you again, you would kill him.

But, he would find that you didn’t, instead only pressing yourself even harder against him in the cold of the night, breath shaking something so terribly as he moved your lower region against his in a gentle movement. It only fueled his want for you, hands struggling their way up your skirt, caressing your stocking-clad legs as he did, reaching your undergarments with a content sigh.

His touch lighted a path up your legs, the cold nothing but a memory now even though the brisk air found its way underneath your skirt, following his hands that caressed your inner thighs in soft motions.

It was suspenseful, waiting for the skin to touch the skin, for his strong hands to wound around you as he had already wormed himself around your heart. And as he did, the coil in your stomach grew so incredibly tight you felt like it was too much like his touch alone wounded your every fiber, but instead of hurt, it was an undeniable pleasure that hit you tenfold.

The hand that had crawled its way inside your undergarments stroked alongside your tender parts, never touching you where you wanted him the most–the place that longed for his touch. He had to be teasing you; there was no other explanation as he smiled softly at your expression, gasping for air as you gripped the sides of his arms, trying to push against his fingers.

“Ah, sweetheart.” He only cooed at you, gripping your wrists with one hand as his other finally glided over the wetness of your heat, gazing directly into your eyes with his sharp gaze, admiring your pleasure-filled face that begged him to give you more, to provide you with his all. And, as he spread your folds with his fingers, the filthiest whimper of pleasure left you, laying its noise into the quiet night with no worry about anyone hearing, only fools deciding to stray outside in this bleak, frigid night.

Falling into his arms yet again, you let him enter a finger into your warm cavern, gasping desperately for air as the unfamiliar stretch widened you, dragging wonderfully against your clenching walls. It was vile, the way Arthur reveled in how tight you felt against his finger, and as he pondered on how you would feel when he pushed it you. The thought made a striking, white pleasure shoot through him, making him grunt out against your neck.

“That good?” He spoke out, adding another finger into you while placing wet, hot kisses against your blazing neck, wanting nothing more than to hear your heavenly sound of approval.

You attempted to nod, but the motion was interrupted by the increasingly more extensive stretch from both of his fingers; gasping like a madwoman as you moved against his hands, wishing to pull his fingers even deeper into you, dissatisfied when you realized it didn’t do the job.

He could only groan when he realized your intention, slipping his coated finger from your warm heat, bringing them to his mouth quickly while his other hand found the zipper of his jeans, fumbling in a stressed fashion to get rid of the constraint.

A dissatisfied moan left you as he did, wishing for nothing more than to feel the delicious stretch yet again carry alongside your walls. But, as he fumbled with his zipper, you quickly got your senses together. You helped him undo his suspenders, then slipped underneath the fabric to trail your hand alongside the apparent bulge that stretched underneath, finding his groans to fuel your actions.

For a short while, your eyes met amidst the hurry your bodies experienced, and the moment slowed down to a halt as your lips found each other once more, moving against one another like starved men. You couldn’t be closer to him, and he couldn’t possibly be closer to you, and while you earlier had pondered that this was a good idea, you couldn’t imagine anything else at this moment.

And, as your hand wrapped around him momentarily, Arthur could feel his brain’s short circuit, like he had never been able to hold a single thought in his mind his entire life. You had to have bewitched him, for he complied to your every touch, body moving against your every move like your hand was glued to his body.

“God,” he mumbled against your lips that massaged his own, thrusting against your hand as you stroked him tenderly, gasping against him quietly. It wasn’t hurried but warm and slow, basking in each other’s presence like you had never before discovered the feeling of another’s touch against your own.

“That good?” You replied teasingly, mimicking his earlier words as you smiled a toothy smile, feeling him chuckle lowly at your apparent teasing, giving you a playful slap on your behind as his breathing picked up.

Suddenly, you felt a hand encase your own. As he removed it from his throbbing member, he only grabbed you closer, wounding his arms around your back as he pulled you into a hug, the feeling of him underneath you wonderful as you glided along it–moaning wantonly as the friction shot sharp streaks of pleasure up your body.

“Come on, sweetheart. I’ll warm you up.” As he spoke, he could feel himself shudder as your wet lips encased his tip, groaning audibly as he thought you rubbing against him. You were illegal, he concluded, for nothing could ever be allowed to feel this good–it wasn’t possible.

“Please,” you gasped against his lips, moving your hips slightly as you felt his hands circle your waist. “Please, Arthur.”

He hushed you quietly, finally feeling you wrap your lips around him as he slowly entered your warm cavern, the walls fitting him snugly as a grunt left him unexpectedly, lost in the pleasure you brought him.

While it felt too good to imagine, you could only keep your mouth open at the sensation, wondering how something could ever fill you up quite as good as this. Without a single thought, you sat down entirely, feeling him stretch you wonderfully as you wrapped around all of him, wounding your hands around his neck.

You didn’t need to move much, for he thrust up into you when you had gotten used to his size, feeling yourself being hitched up to his body as the motion made your whole body rise to then fall back down on him, once more filled to the brim. His grunting in your ears filled your senses, and while the slight consciousness entered your mind, wondering what you were doing, you pushed it far back, relishing in how your body responded to his.

Despite the cold that was surely creeping into your bones the more you stayed out here, the sound of skin against skin filling the empty spaces around you made you feel more connected to each other than you had ever felt with anyone else.

You started to move with him, bringing down your hips to meet his while he thrusts into you, growing more desperate by the minute. You found the hands hugging your waist, circling their arms around it, pushing you even further against him as you rested your hands on his cheeks, having no choice but to stare into his lidded eyes as he grunted roughly underneath you.

God, how he wanted to push you down onto the ground and drive into you, damning the snow that covered the ground. Instead, he glided down further from the wall, feeling your weight press against him more as your head found sanction in his neck, feeling his thrusts grow more in power as he pistoned into you harder from the new position.

“Arthur.” You breathed out, feeling the stretch of him grow as the position made him reach even deeper inside you, one arm reaching down to grab your bottom so he could hold you firmer against him.

“I know, honey.” He murmured, head growing dizzy as you clenched around him so wonderfully, mewling sweetly into his ears as you let him take control.

Did it make him an evil man for reveling in what he knew Charles would never gain from you? Maybe it did, but those thoughts were placed far back in his mind as your lips found his, small moans now muted as you grew desperate for his affection, growing insatiable to once more feel the fondness that laid in his every touch.

He had been so angry that someone else had gained the courage to do what he couldn’t, realizing he had been too late. Yet now, as you remain unknowing above him, it only made his lips plant themself firmer against yours, determined to make you understand that nobody could make you feel this way except him.

Grabbing the blanket off your shoulders, he threw it down towards the ground as you gasped, stroking your waist tenderly before slowing his movements.

Your breath heaved something so terrible, your voice shaking as you spoke. “Don’t stop, Arthur. Please.” He felt his stomach coil at your words, throbbing inside you as he moved to a seated position.

“I ain’t stopping, sweetheart,” he let on, leaning you backwards lightly. “Lay back for me, okay?” You did as he said without a protest, the cold now gone as your legs spread from him.

He almost groaned from the sight, taking a moment to observe you as you stared at him through lidded eyes, blushed cheeks so wonderfully red against the whiteness of the snow you almost looked like an angel–your hair spread like a halo around your head where you laid on the blanket.

Crawling over you quickly, he grunted as he felt your hand encasing itself around him, stroking slowly as you guided it to your clenching hole. For a moment, he felt a relief spread through him at the feeling of your walls surrounding him before the sheer and utter desperation set in, beginning to move into you at a faster pace than before.

Your breath hitched at the sudden movement, yet you gripped his arms to keep him there, not baring the thought of him stopping again. Being over you gave him more control, and his primal instincts set in as the coil in his stomach shot burning flashes throughout his body, wanting nothing more than to feel your warm walls around him forever. Maybe it was the desire talking, but he swore that the thought of you being like this with any other man than him would make him heave.

Encasing his arms around you as your hands found his hair, he felt your legs wrap around his waist, now so close he was grounding into you relentlessly. Rough yet tender, he moved into you with care, but you could feel that he was holding back as he panted above you.

“Don’t stop!” You begged him once more amidst his thrusts, pulling on his strands as his lips found the softness of your neck. Why you were begging, you couldn’t say, oblivious to the words leaving your mouth in utter bliss.

“Hm?” He mumbled, smiling lightly from hearing your ruined voice beg him. He felt like a sick man gaining pleasure from it, but his mind was too hazy to take notice, longing to hear those words leave your sweet mouth once more. “What was that?”

“Don’t stop,” you voiced breathlessly as his hand found your breast, rolling the nub softly between his rough fingers. Despite your begging, for his own sickly twisted pleasure his hips ceased their movements, moving torturously slow as he raised his elbows to stare at your tear-filled eyes.

They shot open as he slowed his pace, displeased he didn’t listen as you already felt shameful for sounding so desperate. You couldn’t help it, for it felt too good, and now that he had stopped, you wished he never had. Was he teasing you? The thought made you blush from embarrassment and annoyance, pleading with your eyes.

“No…” You mumbled, trying to move against him, yet his hands held you firm against the ground.

“Say it.” Arthur’s voice was coarse as he spoke, grabbing your hand to place tender kisses on it as your displeased sounds reached his ears. He only got a confused look, smirking slightly at the longing and apparent dissatisfaction plastered on your face. A biting shadowed lust replaced his usually sharp eyes as he watched you, carnal written deeply in his eyes.

“My name, sweetheart. Let me hear you say it.” Suddenly, he pistoned his hips against you, driving up your wet walls as a mewl left you from the sudden force. You felt his intense eyes on you as your eyes shut momentarily, and through your blurred vision, they didn’t stay open for long.

“Arthur,” you moaned, eye-rolling into the back of your head as your back arched, a wave of pleasure shooting through you at his demands. He held the same controlled yet sensual pace, knowing he’d slip out of you if he went any harder. Still, his accuracy was wicked–hitting the right spot with every move.

“That’s it,” he praised you, placing another kiss on your palm as his thrusts increased, grunting roughly as your walls squeezed him tightly. You break into sobs as you reach out to grasp his arms, tilting his head up just enough to let you know he’s watching you, his hazy gaze roving over the devastation on your face.

The snow around you mutes the sound of skin hitting skin as he sets a brutal pace. “I didn’t tell you to stop, sweetheart.” The deep rumble in his chest as he spoke the words laced with possessiveness made your heartbeat pick up faster than it already was, the light ringing in your ears increasing as your body was hoisted up with each of his thrusts.

You call his name like a prayer amidst the pleasure, and satisfaction at hearing his name come so sinfully from your mouth made his eyes roll back, knuckles turning white from gripping the ground so harshly. Oh, you had no idea that every noise you let out from his advances made his heart soar with pride, feeling the softness of your skin under the palm of his hands.

Arthur feels the abrupt stop of movements from your hand, gripping tightly on his arms as you spasm around his cock, clenching tightly as the pads of his fingers come down to rub at your swollen nub as your orgasmed, a loud whine leaving you at the contact. It’s too much for you, the sensation too unfamiliar yet devastatingly addictive–not knowing if you wanted to drive your hips away from his brutal assault or enjoy him even more profoundly.

Even if you had decided on the prior, he didn’t let you, pushing you firm against the ground as he twitched inside you at the noises you let out, groaning lowly as he came inside your warm walls, planting himself deep inside you.

“Christ-” He grunts out, teeth clenched as you feel his cock throb inside you, cum gathering at the base of him as his hips slow to deep thrusts, grinding into you in sheer pleasure as the knot in his stomach unleashed, feeling you placing small kissed on his neck.

The slight motion made him smile amidst his pleasure-filled mind, caressing the curves of your waist as he nestled his head into your neck, still panting heavily. As you both calmed down, it didn’t take long for your hand to find his, fingers wounding themselves around the others in the blissful aftermath.

As you opened your eyes after catching your breath, you found a pair of blue ones already gazing at you. You didn’t speak for a while, both of you trying to digest the situation as tiny snowflakes could be seen falling from the sky through the cracks in the walls. It reminded you of how cold you should have been, but with Arthurs’s broad chest covering you, it felt like you were clinging to a furnace.

“Shit, you must be freezing.” He suddenly let out, shaking his head slightly as if in a daze before rising to pull you with him. As he pulled your skirt down your legs, rubbing them between his hands to warm you up, you could only stare at him in quiet wonder.

“What?” He grumbled out, sniveling lightly as he glanced at you. Had you not wanted this, he wondered, doubt starting to fill his mind. You were too quiet for his liking, only staring at him as he tried to prolong touching your soft skin, fearful of the hurtful words that were sure to come.

“Are you jealous of Charles?”

If crickets had been this far north, they would surely be the only thing audible as Arthur stopped. Bear of a man, hardy and stubborn to many, yet a faint blush could be seen rising to his cheeks as his face lowered–wishing so dearly he could find his hat that had seemingly disappeared so he could hide.

If he had been looking at you, he would have seen the toothy smile covering your face, a tender laugh leaving you as your assumptions became reality. You had to give him credit, though, for he had you completely and utterly fooled.

“No.” He stated firmly, rising on his legs to pull up his pants. He found himself unable to, though, your hand grabbing his suspenders to pull him back down. The same heat that had lessened in his stomach came back as he felt your nimble touch caress him through his pants, gaining a mischievous look from you as you widened your legs.

“Don’t worry, Arthur. I’ll give Charles his gloves back if you stay here and keep me warm.”

Oh dear, that would do it. Whatever thoughts that filled his mind flew out the window, wholly consumed by you as your hands caressed his back, staring expectantly up at him.

“Only me, right?”

“Only you, stupid.”

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption imagine #red dead redemption smut #red dead smut

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 2 months

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Yandere King Naga // Part 1

Thinking about living in the forest once you’ve transmigrated to another world. Instead of getting caught up in some romance plot or adventure you decide to just live in a little cottage. Where you catch and cook your own food, making some passive income when you do venture into the town. On your way back from one of these trips you happen upon a little bundle crying on the dirt path.

“Oh my, who forgot you little sunshine?”

You smile when their crying ceases when you lightly rock them, beginning to notice a few odd-looking patches on their cheek. Then when those tiny eyes finally open little slits look back up at you while their mouth with little budding incisors open to coo at you. All of it leads to you opening up the bundled wrappings around them to find a wiggly and stubby little snake’s tail. It is then you make the perilous decision to raise this little naga in secret.

In this world, you could tell it wasn’t advanced enough to accept monsters or anything not human into the community. That you might be branded a monster as well just for caring for the creature. Nonetheless, you rationalize that this is perfect for your forest life–where you’re more likely to meet other monsters than humans. Thus your life with this little one begins and you thank his naga-biology that he grows up fast.

“I caught a mouse! Are you proud of me!”

“Yup, I’m real proud! Now come on you need a bath.”

But not too fast. Life is good for a while while you tend to the house your little one—Nox ventures to the perimeter of the forest to play before returning to you. He is still a child. Things go on normally until he comes slithering to you with snot in his nose, tears in his eyes, and babbling through tears. Hugging and holding him you check for injuries and when you find none you try to convince him to talk to you.

“What’s wrong, Nox?”

“I-I-There’s a guy out there! A-a-and he keeps following me! Look!”

Hiding behind you and clutching your pants, following his finger to the underbrush of the forest around you harden your stance. Thinking about the knife in your pocket and your other hand holding onto Nox, keeping him behind you. Watching the leaves and branches rustle with movement you prepared yourself for a fight.

“Are you this child’s guardian?”

It’s another Naga, standing tall on a tail adorned with patches of gold in his white tail. Hiding further in the brush you can tell there are black rings around the tip of their tail which seems to be coiled a lot closer. He’s lean but muscular and his golden eyes are glaring at you.

“I am. Why?”

He hisses, “To think a human would take in a hatchling purely out of goodheartedness is ridiculous. I’m going to take this child home where he belongs.”

“Nooo!”

“He’s my kid and if you want to fight for him I will do that.”

With a final pat on Nox’s head, you tell him to stay near the house. You goad the naga man into a place near the forest saying you’d rather not do this in front of Nox before taking off running. You know he’s following as you hear him angrily hiss and slither through the wood. Bringing him to a desired spot you turn keeping your knife behind you as he launches his tail in your direction. Expecting it, you dodge finally revealing your knife and aiming it at his tail creating a gash that has him hissing.

“Haaaa Insolent Human! How dare you!?”

Usually, with a knife like yours, you never would have broken the protection of the scales but taking care of Nox offered some invaluable insight. You tried to dodge again but failed as his tail coiled around you in the blink of an eye. Squeezing immediately it took you a moment to turn your knife around to stab at what scales you could. He grunted but seemingly had settled for the stab at the expense of strangling you.

“I’m going to enjoy watching the life leave from you, human! Your kind makes me sick.”

The pressure was unbearable but your adrenaline was high and with the simple gesture of bringing you closer to spit in your face you took a leap of faith. Abandoning your knife for some wiggle room you launched forward clamping onto his neck your only weapon left—your teeth.

That seemed to catch him off guard his tail unraveling enough to let the rest of your body go. Now allowed to pin him down, using your feet and hands to pin down his own as you continued to bite into his neck you didn’t stop until you heard him moan.

“Aaaa~! Wait no, please! You’ve got to let aah~!

In your peripheral, you could see his alabaster tail twirl and twist oddly. From your position, you couldn’t see his face but you could imagine what his expression was. Considering you could feel the connection of his hips bucking against your own. The final nail in the coffin other than his constant streams of wonton moans you could hear the familiar worried slither of your son coming through the wood.

He was calling for you. Hopefully, so loud he would miss the Naga continuing to make the loud moans despite you standing over him and wiping your teeth of his blood. Finally, looking at him you could see the darkened tips of their ears and cheeks as they continued to oddly curl on themselves. You didn’t bother trying to stop him, not wanting to trigger another fight you just ran scooping Nox up and barricading you both in your home. Hopefully, by the time the Naga man comes to his senses, he will have accepted his loss by then and leave.

Unbeknownst to you that Naga would spend all night shifting and rolling in their ground replaying the fight. All the while moaning and groaning, driving all the smartest predators far away. This would continue until daybreak when he finally stopped but the heat in his cheeks was far from gone.

“That–that human is perfect…a human…who would’ve guessed.”

After a day you venture out, Nox sticking close to you while you undo the locks of the door with a knife in hand. Looking out you hoped you’d find no one in the clearing near your home—that was not the case.

“Hello human!”

Slamming the door on his face, you replay the expression and the closeness that they were standing outside the door. If only to sate your curiosity you opened the door again.

“Hi–”

Slam

“How are–”

Slam

“You?”

When he seems to stay in that same place the whole rest of the day, you eventually encourage Nox to keep his nose down and help you with your chores. Ignoring the smiley Naga who was oddly no longer hostile.

“What are you doing? Hanging your human clothes? How cute can I help?

“Is this how humans catch their food? How human-like so clever I would’ve never thought a net would be how you do that!”

“You are such a good parent to your little one? Would you like to have some more?”

Once you're able to shoo the intrigued Nox away, you decide to hose this guy down for answers. Good thing he’s happy to provide them. He finally introduces himself as a King of Naga who was coming to pass judgment on a Naga child living with a human from the smaller snakes of the forest. You hold your complaints about his presumptuous assessment, to ask why he’s still here assuming the fight said that you were capable enough to raise Nox.

“Yes well, now I’m courting you!”

“Excuse me?”

“You not only bested me in battle, you also did the most submitting action and claiming that a Naga could do. You…bit me~”

“Even so…I’m not a Naga.”

“Well usually that’d matter but I am the King of all Naga once my neck has been bitten and claimed there can be no others that is until you die.”

“Can’t you just pretend I died in the battle?”

“Preposterous your my destined mate! No other will do!”

Thus your days are spent trying to explain to Nox why the Naga you fought with was hanging around so often. On top of that the King Naga whose real name was Shian, had begun to ramp up his advances. No longer happy to just wave at you behind trees or happily follow you with your chores. He gets closer, testing your boundaries and breaking them as he intends to instigate some kind of reciprocation.

He is a King, And he’ll get what he wants....eventually.

Part 2: Here

#yandere x reader #yandere x you #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yanderexrea #yandere #yanderes #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc #yandere ocs x reader #yandere oc x you #yandere naga #yandere naga original character #yandere naga oc #yandere oc naga #yandere naga x reader #yandere king naga #yandere original characters #yandere original character

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chvoswxtch · 10 months

Note

A fic where reader likes Aaron but is like 20 years younger than him (I checked the math, even at the start of the show, he was 43 so that wouldn't have been weird. Unless u find that weird? Pretend i said 10 years if that weirds u out) and she thinks she doesn't have a chance with him and that he wouldn't even consider her. And so she just pines over him with the unrequited crush blues. Maybe hotch seems to "baby" her and be extra protective of her so she chalks it up to being the baby of the team. Meanwhile he does not view her as a baby. At all. And maybe he doesn't even realize he treats her any different. Angst welcome! Definitely romance

She/her pronouns for the fic if u want to do it please 🙏 and thank u 😁

– Zee

MY DARLING ZEE

I have been SO excited to post this one, so thank you for requesting it. as usual, I got carried away, but it's daddy hotch so I apologize for nothing

enjoy ;)

warnings: swearing, lots and lots of angst word count: 4.5k

baby.

Furious didn’t even begin to cover the way you felt currently. The entire cabin of the jet was thick with tension radiating from your barely concealed rage, and for a split second you felt guilty, because the team’s discomfort was more than palpable. But as your gaze wandered to the opposite end of the jet and you caught sight of the culprit of your vexation, brooding heavily in your direction, any sliver of remorse evaporated from your pores and your eyes instantly hardened in response.

Fucking Aaron Hotchner.

Hotch’s thick dark brows were pinched together, creating a crease of annoyance right between them, and his lips were pressed in a line that was harsher than usual, causing his frown lines to settle even deeper into the skin around his mouth. His deep umber eyes were void of any warmth, and there was no evidence of faint mirth creasing around them. Instead his lethal gaze was cold as steel, and as rigorous as stone.

You had seen a more intense version of that look several times before whenever he interviewed unsubs that made monsters look like fairytales, and normally it sent a chill down your spine. Not because you were scared of your boss; quite the opposite actually. Every time you watched him stare down the worst of humanity with an aura of disinterest and a hard glare that showed he was completely unimpressed, you found yourself more and more attracted to him. Especially on the rare occasions when he lost his temper and ended up slamming his hands on the table while yelling in their face. You found that incredibly hot.

From the day you met Hotch for your interview, you had found him attractive. Intimidating as hell, but attractive. The fact that he was your boss didn’t deter you from developing a little crush on him, or the fact that he was a widower with a six year old son. None of that stopped the butterflies that swarmed in your stomach every time he gave you a tiny bit of praise in the form of a “good job”, or a simple nod of approval. In fact, the more Hotch warmed up to you, the worse your little crush got.

You found yourself grinning whenever someone made him crack the tiniest of smiles, and nothing fueled your ego more than his quiet snort whenever you said something he seemed to find funny. Hotch surprisingly had a great sense of humor when the stress of being the unit chief of the B.A.U. wasn’t looming over his head. He could be stubborn and closed off sometimes, and he wasn’t always the best with words, but you could tell by his actions that he truly cared about his team. Unfortunately for you, his treatment revealed exactly how he saw you.

The baby of the team.

It was no secret that’s how the rest of the team saw you too. Derek had been teasingly, but affectionately, referring to you as “Baby Spice” since your first day because you were by far the youngest member of the team and beyond feisty. Spencer even joined in with the nicknames, jokingly calling you “kid” with a proud grin now that he was no longer the youngest, even though there was less than a five year gap between the two of you, which Rossi constantly reminded him of with a smack to the back of his head. At a certain point you realized that Rossi just enjoyed messing with Spencer, but you still grinned at him in appreciation every time he came to your defense.

Even though you were far from being a child, Hotch still treated you differently than the others, which did not go unnoticed by anyone. He was far more protective of you, not allowing you to go anywhere alone when the team was working a case, and he hardly ever wanted you in the interrogation room with unsubs. Only after Emily backed you up, insisting it was important to your training, did he finally allow you to interrogate. But it was under the strict condition that he was always the one in the room with you. He never allowed you to enter a crime scene or a suspected location of an unsub first, and the first time you got injured while on a case, resulting in the tiniest of a cut above your eyebrow, Hotch forced you to take a leave of absence for two weeks.

You made it three days before you burst into his office and demanded that he end your leave.

He didn’t.

Because of the way Hotch seemed to “baby” you, it resulted in the rest of the team doing it too. Emily and JJ weren’t as bad about it, but they definitely put themselves in front of you anytime a situation got dangerous. Derek and Hotch were by far the worst and the most obvious about being overprotective, but Spencer and Rossi weren’t far behind. The only one that ever treated you as an equal was Garcia, and that’s why she was your favorite.

And the only one you confided in about your little crush on your boss. Although, you were sure Emily and JJ had caught on by now. They always flashed you a teasing smirk and a little wink anytime they caught you silently pining.

But that was what seemed to solidify that you would never have a chance with Hotch. Not that he was your boss, or that he had traumatically lost his wife, or that he had a young son, or even the fact that he was a good twenty years older than you. It was that he seemed to view you more as a helpless child than a capable woman.

As soon as the jet landed, you were the first one off. You could hear Hotch’s shoes stomping along the floor of Headquarters right on your heels. While you stopped at your desk to drop off your go bag, fully prepared to get your shit and leave, his angry march continued up the stairs towards his office, but he never once took his irritated glare away from your figure.

“Y/L/N, my office. Now.”

Gritting your teeth hard, you turned your head to shoot daggers in his direction, but he had already disappeared into his office. Disregarding the sympathetic concern from your coworkers, you furiously made your way up the stairs and made a dramatic show of slamming the door to Hotch’s office forcefully behind yourself, which in turn made his eyes narrow into vehement slits as he looked at you. He straightened his back, squaring his shoulders while he stepped around his desk to stand a few feet away from you. He looked absolutely pissed, but you were too lost in your own rage to care.

“You were completely out of line-”

“Oh, bullshit! I was doing my job-”

“I gave you a direct order and you ignored it, putting yourself and the entire team at risk.”

Hotch’s voice rose in volume when you combated his critique, and even though you had spoken over him first, the fact that he was now doing it to you only fueled your anger further. You took a bold step forward and glared up at Hotch as you grit your rebuttal out through your teeth.

“I saved that kid’s life-”

“By being reckless! You could’ve gotten him killed. You could have gotten killed. Don’t you get that?”

“But I didn’t! No one got hurt, so what the fuck is the issue-”

“The issue is you.”

Hotch’s comment quickly halted the verbal punch you were about to throw, and as you glared up at him, you noticed that his nostrils were flaring with fury and that his darkened eyes were wild and blown open with pure unbridled rage. The sting of his words caused the wildfire flaring inside of you to shrink to the dull roar of a fireplace blaze. Crossing your arms over your chest in a sign of defiance, you lowered the volume of your voice and layered it with acidity.

“You’re a fucking hypocrite.”

Hotch narrowed his eyes, which seemed to be glowing with resentment, as he took another step towards you, faintly cocking his head to the side.

“Excuse me?”

He was giving you an opportunity to correct yourself. But one thing Hotch hadn’t seemed to learn about you was that you could be just as stubborn as he was, and once you reached a certain stage in your wrath, you didn’t back down. You went straight for the jugular.

“If it had been you, you wouldn’t have called it ‘reckless’. But because it’s me, you flip out and blow the whole fucking thing out of proportion because you treat me like I’m a goddamn child-”

“I wouldn’t treat you like a child if you didn’t fucking act like one.”

At this point, there was barely an inch of space between you and Hotch, and you had to tilt your head back slightly just to return his scowl. He might as well have thrown gasoline on the fire with that comment, and you were suddenly completely fed up with no one in this goddamn building viewing you as a grown fucking woman.

“If it had been Derek, or Emily, you wouldn’t be giving them shit like this. You would’ve given them a slap on the wrist, but still acknowledged that they got the job done. So why do I get treated differently-”

“Because you’re not as good as you think you are, and you’re certainly not as good as them.”

That simple statement hurt worse than if Hotch had physically struck you across the face with the back of his hand. All the fury within you suddenly fizzled out, and you stood there dumbstruck while Hotch let out an exasperated exhale through his nose and turned away from you to walk around the corner of his desk and plop down angrily in his chair. He opened the file currently sitting in front of him and directed his irritated attention solely to the pages, reaching for a pen from the holder to his right to wrap his fingers around. He didn’t even look up as he barked out his next order.

“You’re suspended for three weeks. When you return, we’ll discuss your behavior and your future here at the B.A.U.”

Everything felt like it had suddenly come crashing down around you, and you found yourself wondering if it was all worth it. The stress of the job, the never ending hours, the horrors you saw day in and day out, but especially the treatment you received from Hotch and the others. You started to wonder if you had tricked yourself into believing it wasn’t harmful and had all come from a good place, but now you weren’t so sure anymore. For the first time since joining the B.A.U., you found yourself wanting out.

Swallowing the pieces of the lump that threatened to form in your throat, you lifted your chin slightly and spoke in a quiet but firm voice.

“No.”

Hotch quickly lifted his gaze to glower up at you, the thickness of his brows making him appear angrier from where you stood above him. However the second he caught the look on your face, his eyes softened considerably and he sat up straight, the semi permanent frown on his lips vanishing into a subtle line. His eyes followed the movement of your hand while you pulled the gun from the holster at your hip and sat it down in front of him on the desk, along with your badge. There was a brief flash of panic in Hotch’s eyes when he looked at you again, and his lips parted slightly, but you didn’t give him a chance to speak.

“I quit.”

Turning around to solemnly leave his office, you ignored the gentle pleas of your name leaving his lips. As you descended the stairs, the team’s heads perked up in curiosity, their gazes darting between your melancholic movements while you gathered your things, and the sight of a frantic Hotch rushing down the stairs like a man on a mission.

“Agent Y/L/N, do not walk away from me when I’m talking to you.”

Realizing that he was getting nowhere by being authoritative, Hotch let out an exasperated deep exhale through his nose and lowered the volume of his voice, speaking in a far gentler tone.

“Y/N we have to talk about this, you can’t just leave.”

You didn’t bother looking at any of them as you began your walk towards the elevators. You could still hear Hotch following closely behind you, and all of a sudden Derek’s large figure appeared in front of you. He dipped his head slightly to capture your eyes, the confusion on his features melting into pure concern as he glanced over your shoulder at Hotch before looking back at you. He held his right hand out towards you as if he were extending an olive branch and tilted his head to the side slightly.

“Whoa, what’s goin’ on Baby Spice? C’mon, talk to me.”

Derek was speaking to you in that gentle manner that he used when he wanted to show a victim that he wasn’t a threat. There was no doubt he could see the sadness and defeat glistening in your eyes, but you didn’t have the energy to rip open the wound any further.

“I’m going home. Please move.”

That was all you could manage to weakly get out as you attempted to step around him. But Derek, being Derek, wasn’t having it. He reached out to gently place his hand on your shoulder.

“I’ll drive you.”

“I can drive myself.”

“Baby-”

“I’m not a child, Derek. I don’t need your help, can you back off?”

Derek’s warm gaze widened considerably, and his neat onyx brows rose up his forehead in complete shock. You had never exploded on him like that, or any of the others for that matter. But right now all you wanted to do was get the hell out of there.

“Let her go.”

Derek glanced over your shoulder to look at JJ in pure confusion, but she gave a slight shake of her head while holding his gaze with a firm look in her ocean blue eyes, giving him a nonverbal cue to sit this one out. After a moment of hesitation, Derek removed his hand from your shoulder and took a step to the left to unblock your path.

The entire team was silent while watching you disappear behind the elevator doors.

»»———　　———««

A subtle but firm series of knocks at your door roused you from your sleep. Squinting at the clock on your bedside table, the lime green numbers read ten twenty-three pm. You hadn’t even remembered falling asleep. As soon as you had walked through the door of your apartment hours ago, you kicked off your shoes and crawled in bed, your mind spiraling about what you had just done and what it meant for the future.

When the knocks grew more impatient, you threw your comforter off with an irritated huff and got out of bed, exiting your bedroom to make your way to the living room to figure out who the hell was knocking on your door this late. However when you swung the front door open, your unexpected visitor was the last person you expected it to be.

Aaron Hotchner.

The darkness under his eyes was more prominent than usual, and his neatly cropped hair looked messy, as if he had been stressfully running his fingers through it. The permanent scowl he normally wore was missing from his lips, and there was a faint flicker of concern highlighted in his eyes. The first two buttons of his white dress shirt were undone, and his merlot colored tie hung loosely around his neck.

He looked exhausted.

Instead of speaking, you arched one of your dark brows, silently asking for the reason for his impromptu visit. As he shifted awkwardly to his other foot and cleared his throat, you realized you had never seen him look so unsure of himself.

“May I come in?”

Part of you wanted to slam the door in his face, but a bigger part of you was curious to know why your former boss had shown up at your door unannounced at ten thirty at night. Letting out a deep exhale through your nose, you stepped aside to allow Hotch to pass by you. The second the door shut with a soft click and you turned around to face him, there was already a blanket of irritation tugging his features down. He didn’t even give you a chance to question his presence before speaking.

“You’re a pain in my ass.”

A dry laugh instantly escaped your lips, and a soft furrow settled between your brows while you crossed your arms over your chest.

“Wow, you’re really good at this whole apology thing, huh?”

“I’m not here to apologize. I’m here to be honest with you, and the honest truth is you’re a huge pain in my ass. You’re stubborn, emotionally reactive, not to mention combative-”

“Then why the hell did you hire me-”

“I’m not finished.”

Hotch was speaking in that firm authoritative voice he used whenever he wanted to make it crystal clear he wasn’t in the mood for bullshit or push back. Despite your burning desire to lash out again, you bit your tongue and settled for glaring at him instead.

“You are constantly acting like you have something to prove-”

“Because you make me feel like I have to, Aaron. You, and the rest of the team, make me feel like I have to prove my worth every fucking day. Do you have any idea how exhausting that is? Or how much that makes me doubt myself?”

“Do you ever stop talking long enough to listen to someone else speak?”

Tension hung in the small space of your living room like a heavy and dense fog. Hotch observed you silently for a moment as your frustrations lingered in the air while you refused to meet his eyes. There was an unreadable expression on his face, and he seemed to wait until he could tell your emotions had leveled out slightly before speaking again.

“I admired your compassion.”

Perplexity twisted up your features as you stared across your living room at Hotch.

“What?”

“You asked why I hired you. That’s why.”

He made it sound like it was the most simple statement in the world, but it only added another layer to the cryptic labyrinth you were trying to navigate.

“I don’t understand-”

“When I reviewed your case work with you in your interview, I was impressed by your attention to detail. But I was even more impressed that when I asked you questions about the victims you had worked with, you gave me personal details about them, not just black and white facts that were in their file. You remembered things about them. You humanized them instead of speaking about them like a statistic.”

All you could do was blink at him in surprise. That was the last thing you expected to come out of his mouth. Sensing that a calmness had settled over you, Hotch took a cautious step forward and continued.

“You know just as much about the victims of notorious serial killers as you do about the serial killers themselves. Every solution you have to a problem is led with people in mind, trying to minimize casualties. You speak about victims like people, not numbers or objects. You put everyone’s feelings, and safety, before your own, and that is both the best thing about you and the worst.”

The sincerity in Hotch’s voice caught you off guard, and for a moment you weren’t sure what to say. He spoke to you in the soft voice you had once overheard him speaking to Jack in on the phone, and that caused a fluttering feeling inside your stomach. But it also added to your confusion. If he thought so highly of you, then why did he treat you the way he did?

“Why are you so different with me?”

Hotch let out a deep exhale through his nose, dragging his palm down his face slowly before loosely gesturing to you with his hand.

“Because it’s my job to protect you.”

“No it isn’t.”

It was Hotch’s turn to stare at you in puzzlement, his thick brows knit together in the center of his forehead. Running a hand through your hair in slight irritation, you shook your head slowly.

“I knew exactly what I was signing up for when I applied for this job. I knew it was dangerous-”

“My job as the unit chief is to keep my team safe-”

“No, Aaron. It’s to lead us. We all knew the risks when we joined. There is only so much you can control, you of all people should know that. I know you try to look out for us, but you don’t treat the rest of the team like you treat me. And I get it, okay? I am the youngest on the team, but I’m not a child-”

“I don’t think you’re a child.”

Hotch looked even more perplexed by your words, his head tilted to the side slightly while looking over at you.

“Y/N, your age has nothing to do with the way I treat you-”

“Then what is it?”

That uncertainty was once again shining in his eyes. It looked like Hotch was struggling internally with which version of his truth he wanted to give you. The revelation about your age not being a factor in his treatment filled you with a sense of relief, but also left you with more questions than answers. After what felt like an eternity of silence, Hotch’s face softened considerably as he took a few steps closer towards you.

“I…I care about all of you, and I don’t want to see anything happen to any of you.”

The intensity of his eye contact caused a slight shiver to nip at your spine, and it seemed like there was a hidden meaning to his sentence; something deeper.

“You…care about me?”

The tiniest of smirks tugged at the edge of Hotch’s lips, and his eyes had lightened in color with pure amusement.

“You know, for one of my most brilliant profilers, you’re pretty bad at this. Should I be concerned?”

Warmth bloomed in your cheeks hearing the faint tease lingering at the edge of his question. Hotch had never been this laid back and playful with you before. It almost sounded like he was…flirting?

Your eyes widened slightly while staring up at him, an overly dramatic gasp leaving your lips.

“Was that…a joke? Did you just make a joke? Are you feeling alright? Should I call a doctor?”

Deciding to test the waters, you brought your hand up to place the back of it against his forehead before moving it downwards to place against his cheek, as if you were checking his temperature. All of a sudden, a huge tooth bearing grin stretched across his lips, and your breath caught in your throat.

He was smiling.

Aaron Hotchner was smiling.

He gently grasped your wrist in his large hand, his grin fading to a miniscule smirk while his gaze became a little more intense.

“Actually, smartass, I’m having a bit of a rough night. One of my best profilers quit on me earlier. Although in her defense, I was kind of being a dick.”

“Kind of?”

“Don’t push it. I’m already doing something I normally don’t.”

“Which is?”

“Begging for forgiveness.”

Hotch hadn’t let go of your wrist, and either your mind was playing tricks on you, or he had somehow gotten closer. There was barely a centimeter separating your chests. Him telling you not to push it only made you want to do it that much more, and since you had already technically quit, you decided to throw caution to the wind.

“I don’t hear any begging.”

The mirth in Hotch’s eyes darkened into something you hadn’t seen before, and for a moment you were nervous that you had crossed a line. It felt like he was staring directly into your soul, searching for some answer that would determine his next move.

“You are by far the most frustrating woman I have ever met.”

Woman.

Hotch thought of you as a woman, and that caused a bright grin to stretch across your lips.

“Well, you’re no ray of sunshine either, but I still like you.”

Hotch’s grasp on your wrist tightened slightly at the end of your sentence, and a look of surprise flashed across his face before his eyes returned to that darkened look you couldn’t decipher.

“Is that so?”

His voice was low, but firm, and the sultriness of it nestled comfortably between your inner thighs. All you could do was subtly nod while staring up at him, watching as he leaned in meticulously and painfully slow.

“If I’m reading this wrong-”

“If you’re reading this wrong, you’re a terrible profiler.”

You weren’t one to wait for action, so before he could respond, you reached up to grab onto the back of Hotch’s neck and pulled him down to press your lips against his in a tentative kiss. At first he tensed up, but then you felt his body physically relax, and a soft hum sounded in your throat when he snaked his arm around your waist. Reluctantly pulling away, he gently brushed his nose against yours and whispered.

“So, I’ll see you in the office Monday?”

“Mm, no.”

Hotch pulled back so he could stare down at you in pure perplexity, and you grinned at his facial expression.

“No?”

“I’m suspended, remember? Three weeks, I think it was?”

Hotch’s lips formed into a thin line as he stared down at you, the amusement previously lingering in his eyes completely gone. You couldn’t help but laugh, lightly shoving him away from you with your palms against his chest.

“Hey, you decided my sentence.”

“You were being a brat-”

“And now this brat has a three week vacation. I’ve been meaning to take a trip anyway-”

“Actually, I haven’t filed any paperwork, so you’re not officially suspended, and you’re still a current employee. I’ll see you on Monday, Agent Y/L/N.”

The demanding tone of his voice made you bite down on your bottom lip, and you leaned back against your kitchen island while arching one of your brows in challenge and crossing your arms across your chest with a playful smirk on your lips.

“You don’t wanna see me before that, sir?”

The way you used his title clearly had an affect on him, and you suddenly realized that the emotion eclipsing his eyes was pure lust. He slowly reached his hand up to tug at the loose knot on his tie until it came undone around his neck completely, and he slowly approached you with a wolfish grin.

“Why do you think I’m here?”

tags: @mars-rants-a-lot @ninejlovebot @oscarisaacsleftknee

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x f!reader #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner request #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds request

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stevesherdaddynowlover · 3 months

Text

pet names and looped pinkies [s.h.] 18+

hiiiii so i've never written for steve but just did a stranger things rewatch and have felt...inspired. i hope you enjoy! pls feel free to send suggestions or concepts or anything :) thanks for reading!

masterlist

summary: steve is your best friend and you have a crush on him and that's fine until one day it's not and the next thing you know you can't think or speak or breathe around him. (steve harrington x fem!reader)

warnings: loooots of pet names, fluff, pining,cursing, kissing, m masturbation, dirty talk, handjob, spitting, tiny bit of cum eating :))) 18+ ONLY!! MDNI

wc: 6.4k

part 2 here!!!!

You and Steve had been friends for quite some time now.

Going from quietly watching him throughout high school, maybe quietly crushing on him too, to fighting monsters and trying to survive could do that to people. Make them friends, that is.

The crush you’d been harboring on Steve didn’t go away, oh no if anything it had gotten about ten times worse in the time you’d spent growing close. That Steve you knew in high school was long gone. The, for lack of a better word, asshat you had come to blush over had turned into a protector. A funny, endearing, unnervingly hot protector that made your tummy flutter and your palms sweat.

It didn’t help that he seemed completely unaware of your feelings, or that the things he did made your heart race and your cheeks turn pink. Linking his pinky with yours while you strolled around town, letting his thumb mindlessly rub circles on the little sliver of your stomach that was visible during movie night, giving a little tug on your hair when you said something cheeky, letting his dimple pop out when you teased him.

And the pet names. God, the pet names! Maybe he did know! Maybe he wanted to torture you and make you squirm. They slipped from those perfect pink lips so effortlessly it kind of pissed you off.

“Hey honey, how was work today?”

“Sweetheart we’re gonna be late for the movie and I will not be blamed when we don’t have time to grab your snacks.”

“Any chance you wanna pick up an extra shift and spend some time with me? What do you say, pretty?”

He had the hair, the smile, the charm. You imagined it would be hard for anyone not to fall madly in love with him. It was surely hard for you! Steve did a good job of turning you to mush. It was hard to think around him, even harder to not think about him.

Which is why you’re really struggling now, smushed on a far too little couch with 3 other people, your thigh pressed so tightly against Steve’s it’s making your head spin. It’s movie night, a tradition you’ve picked up and held onto tightly amidst all the craziness that happens in your small town. Steve is on your left, stuck between the arm of the couch and you. Robin is on your right with Eddie next to her and Jonathon next to him. A couch meant for 2, maybe 3, but all 4 of you packed on while the rest of your friends lounge on the floor or a chair, eyes all focused on the screen.

Almost everyone’s eyes are focused on the screen.

You’re staring straight ahead, sure! But while a movie that you now can’t even remember the name of is droning on, all you can think of is how your hip is touching Steve’s. Or how his pinky has somehow found yours again and they’re looped together on his lap. Or even worse, how he’s got his head resting on your shoulder and you can feel little puffs of his breath hitting your neck everytime he laughs.

It’s driving you crazy, your hand not in his twitching by your side and your chest rising and falling a little faster than it should be while watching a comedy with your friends. You’re so distracted it takes you a few minutes to realize that Steve is no longer watching the movie, but is now focused on you and how uncomfortable you seem to be. He gives a small tug to your pinky, drawing your eyes to meet his and you’re so overwhelmed with him right now you could cry at the furrow in his brow and the small pout he’s wearing looking at you.

“Y’alright, baby?” You can see his genuine concern at the state of you but all you can focus on is trying not to let a small whimper through your lips as you hear him call you baby. Not being able to look at him for more than a few seconds you drag your eyes away from him, a small huff leaving you while you shake your head, mainly at yourself. “I, uh m’fine. I’m fine.” Neither of you are convinced, you know that, but you can’t find it in you to care at the moment when all you can think about is taking his bottom lip between your teeth.

He studies you once more, eyes taking you in quickly as he reaches up to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear. His hand lingers around your neck a second longer, two fingers giving you a little pinch before he’s drawing his hand back to his lap. You find yourself staring far too long at his hand, wondering what it would feel like if he swiped his thumb over your bottom lip. Or if it would be as good as you imagined to have him slip that same thumb past your lips, pressing down on your tongue, wearing that same smirk you’ve seen a thousand times.

Fuck fuck fuck. You’re so fucked.

As soon as the thoughts come, they’re gone because the next thing you know you’re using his and Robin’s thighs as leverage to jump up from the couch, turning to face everyone with red cheeks and a forced smile.

“So I, uh, I gotta go! Just remembered mom wanted me home early tonight, some, uh, some family thing going on. Yeah that’s it. Family thing!” Everyone is staring, eyes wide with confusion written all over their faces. You love movie night, never miss it let alone leave early.

You don’t give anyone the chance to question you before you’re bouncing up the stairs trying to pull your shoes on as quickly as possible. You know he’ll be right behind you, asking you what’s wrong or offering a ride home. You both know you’re full of shit but you can’t find it in you to care right now, too focused on getting away from him before you do something crazy like kiss him.

Steps away from the front door you think you’ve made it. Can almost feel the relief of the cool breeze cooling down your skin that seems to be burning up from where Steve was touching you. You're so close, less than a foot away when you realize you weren’t quick enough.

A hand wraps around your forearm, a large calloused hand that you’d know anywhere. Shoulders slumped in defeat and you turn to face him, not all the way because you don’t think you could handle it, but enough to acknowledge his presence. “Harrington, I gotta go. You know how my mom is, this’ll be held over my head for weeks if I’m late.” Lies. All lies. Your mom fully expects you to sleep at Robins tonight. He’s quiet for what feels like hours but is really only seconds before he speaks, “Let me give you a ride then. You’ll be home in less than 5.”

Now you know that cannot happen. You cannot be in his car that smells like him. You cannot watch the way his hands grip the wheel, and you know you won’t be able to look away. You cannot be locked in a car with him where you know he’ll try and figure out why you’ve been acting so weird tonight. And honestly you just cannot be around him right now without feeling like you’re going to faint.

“No, no, don't worry about it, it’s a quick walk and I could use the fresh air! I’m feeling a little…off right now anyways so I wouldn’t mind being alone. Go finish the movie! Love you, see you, have fun!” And before he can react or try to argue with you, reaching up on your tiptoes you plant a quick kiss to his cheek, lips tingling as you turn and run out the door, hoping to god or whoever is listening that Steve doesn’t come after you.

What you don’t see as you’re running down the sidewalk is your best friend standing in the doorway with his hand hovering over his cheek where you just kissed him and a blush crawling up his neck as those quick seconds play on a loop in his head for the rest of the movie.

****************************************

It’s been a few days since movie night. The night you’re refusing to think about but also the one you can’t seem to get out of your head. More specifically the sound of Steve calling you baby and the feel of his fingers brushing against your throat.

Well you’ve tried not to think about it.

You’re not sure why this is happening now. You’ve liked him for as long as you can remember so why all of a sudden do you feel like panting when your skin touches his? Why now are his little smirks and pet names enough to bring you to your knees? Over the years you’ve done good, so good, at keeping yourself together in front of him, letting his comments and flirting roll off your back. But now…now you can’t be in the same room without wanting to tug on his hair or leave marks on his chest or feel so desperate to taste him that it drives you insane.

You don’t know what caused this switch to flip but it fucking sucks. It sucks because besides all of that, he’s still your best friend. Yeah, it’s ungodly how hot he is but he’s also still the guy who buys you your favorite ice cream when you’ve had a rough day, who goes to see scary movies with you when no one else will because you’re the only one that likes them. He’s saved you, cared for you, loved you for a few years now and honestly that just makes it worse!

He’s mouthwatering AND a good guy. Fuck him for that.

In the few days since you’ve seen him he’s called. 11 times? Maybe more. And you’ve been conveniently in the shower or asleep or anything else your mother can make up while you try and figure out what you’re going to say to him. The problem with this is that the longer you avoid him, the more awkward and hard this is going to be.

So when you wake up today, 4 days after movie night, you decide it’s time to be a big girl and talk to him. Not about your feelings, god no! But it is time to at least try to be normal around him and to stop avoiding him. You already know he’s gonna look like a kicked puppy, big brown eyes staring down at you while you try and justify not talking to him for days. You’re fucked. So fucked.

Walking downstairs you hear the phone ringing and your heart drops. Maybe you’re not ready for this. Maybe your family can just move! That should work. You’ll miss everyone but honestly this seems like your best option at this point.

Your dad is gone for the day, your mom is standing at the counter with her purse on her shoulder like she’s about to walk out the door with her mouth open, ready to give Steve yet another excuse to why you can’t talk to him. But you’re brave. You’re a big girl who can handle a phone call with your best friend. Your hot best friend you're madly in love with and want to climb like a tree.

Your hand is out and reaching for the phone before you can talk yourself out of it, a sigh of relief leaving your mother as she practically throws it at you, running for the door before you change your mind. It’s by your ear for a good few seconds before you hear him, his voice raspy and deep so you know he’s just woken up and it makes your whole body buzz.

“Hello?”

It’s now or never. Never sounds nice. “Hey! How ya been? How’s it going? How was the movie?” The questions pour out of you so quickly you’re not sure he can even understand what you’re saying but you hold your breath and wait anyway.

“How’s it going? Are you kidding me? Fuckin’ Christ! You’ve taken about 12 showers in 4 days and couldn’t be bothered to talk to me, why don’t you tell me how it’s going.” So he was upset. Totally fair.

“Don’t be mad at me, please.” It was the first thing that came out of your mouth and you knew it was stupid but you couldn’t help it. He deserved to be mad at you, to yell and cuss and whatever else he deemed fit. But now that you had heard his voice again for the first time in days, the thought of him being upset with you made you want to cry, even though you had done this!

You heard him take a deep breath and knew he was running his hand through his hair, tugging on the ends the way he always did when he was stressed. “M‘not mad, sweetheart. I mean, maybe a little but I was more worried! That something had happened or I had done something or…I don’t know. Was just worried sick and…god I just fuckin’ missed you.”

Had you mentioned that you were fucked? His words hit you a ton of bricks, any thoughts you had about moving on or maybe distancing yourself gone in an instant. Because he was worried. And he missed you. He fuckin’ missed you. And god you loved him so much it hurt, so much you could feel it in your fingertips and toes like little zaps of electricity when you thought of him or heard his voice.

You were gone for Steve Harrington.

“I..m’so sorry, Stevie. I missed you too, so much and I’m so sorry and I’m just…I’m sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong, you never do! I’ve just been a mess and my minds been a mess and I thought some time to myself would help me but really it's just..it doesn’t matter. What matters is I’m sorry and I missed you.”

“S’okay, bunny. You alright? Can talk to me about anything, you know. I’m not…I know I’m not always the best at this stuff but I’d be good for you. I’ll listen to ya all day, do whatever I can to help you. Wanna come over? Movie night just the two of us? I’ll order you pizza and get you extra buttery popcorn and some ice cream, promise.”

The thought of being alone with Steve sends red lights flashing through your brain but when he sounds so…god when he’s saying all the right things in a voice you’d dare describe as whiny you can’t help but to want to drop everything and all but crawl to him.

So at the expense of your sanity you agree quickly, promising you’ll be there by 8 o’clock and hang up the phone before he can call you sweetheart or bunny again running up the stairs to take the coldest shower you’ve ever taken that does nothing to erase the thoughts of Steve from your mind.

*****************************************

The walk to Steve’s was surprisingly calm. You weren’t freaking out completely, just a little nervous but that was nothing new to you when it came to spending time with Steve, especially alone.

Unfortunately for you, that calm lasted for all of about 10 minutes.

In theory it was a good idea to spend some time with Steve after ignoring him for days. It was an okay idea to agree to a movie night with your best friend. Was.

But now that you’re standing on his porch and his door was just thrown open to reveal a freshly showered Steve, it seems like all of this was a horrible idea.

An awful, terrible, horribly bad idea.

Awful because you can see little beads of water from his freshly washed hair dropping and running down his throat. Awful because the urge to lean forward and run your tongue over them is so strong you swear your mouth waters a little bit.

Terrible because he’s wearing that goddamn white t-shirt that is hugging his arms so tight and since when did his arms start to look like that? Awful because that same damn shirt is tight over his chest too. It fits him so well you can see it snug against his tummy and waist. It fits him like a glove and your hands clench at your sides to keep from touching him.

And this is bad. So horribly bad because he’s wearing his favorite pair of light wash denim jeans that cling to his thighs so nicely you feel your knees wobble. One of your hands comes up to your mouth to run over your chin, subconsciously making sure you’re not actually drooling despite the way you wish you could drop to your knees and spend hours leaving marks on those thighs. You can’t see his ass and you’re praying to god he doesn’t turn around so you don’t have to suffer through seeing how his jeans hug him just right.

While your mind is running a million miles a minute with thoughts of Steve, you realize you actually haven’t said anything. Haven’t made a move to greet him or walk in, instead just standing there with what you imagine is a slack jaw and wide eyes. Willing yourself to meet his gaze, you somehow manage to drag your eyes off his thighs and bring them up, up, up until you meet his.

He definitely does not look like a kicked puppy right now. Those brown eyes are darker and he’s wearing a smirk that would make you do anything he asked. He cocks his eyebrow at you, amusement clear in his face as you try and collect yourself.

“You look starved, honey. Wanna come in?”

*********************************

After the initial embarrassment wears off, you feel a little better. Somehow managing to brush off his teasing as if you weren’t just devouring him with your eyes, you follow Steve to the kitchen, laughing as he tries to balance all the snacks he’d bought for you in arms. He shot you a glare full of playfulness when you tried to help, insisting that he “was a big boy and could handle the snacks.”

Now you find yourself on that same couch from last week, much more space between the two of you than there had been then, a good foot and half extra in fact. Steve laughed when he saw you practically throw yourself to the other end of the couch, hand reaching out for you with a little pout on his lips. “Think I’m gonna bite you or something?” God I wish. Please please please bite me!

But instead you held out your hand reluctantly, fingers twisting with his as he tugged you toward him. Movie night flashed in your head. His clothed thigh just inches away from yours, arm thrown over your shoulders and a cheeky grin on his face as he pulled you into his side. A satisfied hum was heard and you could have sworn you heard him mumble under his breath, sounding a lot like “much better” but it was hard to hear anything with the smell of him clouding your senses.

Trying to get your thoughts off of him you reach forward to grab the dvd case laying on the table, a small smile gracing your lips as you see what he had picked. “John Carpenter's Halloween. I thought you said you’d never watch this?” This time when you turned to him, he was the one with red cheeks and shy smile as he glanced between the movie and you. A small shrug and wink was thrown your way, “S’one of your favorites. You should know you’re the exception to my rules.”

You’re fucked.

Heart pounding in your chest all you could manage was a smile and a small “thank you” before turning away, hoping he’d get up and start the movie so you’d have something to distract you from how sweet he was, watching a scary movie you know he doesn’t want to watch just because it’ll make you happy.

It was about halfway through the movie when it happened.

Everything was going well! You were snuggled into his side, actually paying attention to the movie and not sitting there distraught over being so close to him. You were so invested you hadn’t noticed your hand slip to his thigh during a scene that had made you jump.

But Steve noticed.

Too engrossed in your movie to see how your hand was holding his upper thigh and it definitely would have been too high if you’d been paying attention. You didn’t notice this or the way Steve was now on red alert, whole body tense with his hand gripping the couch cushion and his eyes trained on your hand as if to make sure he wasn’t imagining it.

He could do this, he could ignore your hand and let you watch your movie. It would be fine. He’ll just slip into the bathroom when it’s over or wait till you go home to take care of his now aching cock. And god was he aching. He didn’t dare move, too nervous that you’d get all weird and fidgety like you’d been. This was the closest you’d been to him without seeming freaked out in weeks and he was not about to ruin that.

The smell of your lavender shampoo overwhelmed him, a groan threatening to spill out while you sat there so unaware of how beautiful you looked just existing. He noticed everything about you. The slope of your little button nose and the way your lips, your perfect pink lips, parted just so when you were lost in thought. He noticed how your cheeks would turn the prettiest shade of red when he called you baby or honey or sweetheart. And he loved it, craved it even. He couldn’t tell if it was because of him or if you were just a sensitive little thing in general. He’d take what he could get with you, even if he had to live off your rosy cheeks and holding your pinky for the rest of his life.

“Fuck, honey, m’sorry but you have got to move your hand, please.” Steve’s voice in your ear so suddenly made you jump, a small yelp leaving your lips as you turned to see what he was talking about. You didn’t even realize you were touching him! But one look down at this thigh and you gasped, cheeks burning as your eyes moved from your hand clinging to his thigh over to now very noticeable bulge straining against those light wash jeans. Ripping your hand away as if he’d burned you, a string of curses and apologies flew out as you scrambled to move as far away as possible.

If he looked pained with your hand on his thigh then he looked downright miserable now that you’d taken it away. “Don’t have to run away from me, honey. M’sorry, didn’t mean to scare you I just…fuck I couldn’t sit still with you holding onto me like that.” He did his best to tug you back and you let him. “Sorry, Stevie. I wasn’t…I didn’t, I was just watching the movie I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

He looked at you with furrowed brows, eyes jumping all over your face like he knew something you didn’t, like he knew something you should know. Neither of you said anything, just stared at each other for some time before he sighed, letting his head fall back against the couch before coming back to look at you again.

Hand cradling your cheek he gave you a small, tired small like he couldn’t believe you could possibly make him uncomfortable. That is not the word he would use. “Silly girl, I’m not uncomfortable because your hand was on me. I’m uncomfortable because your hand on me is making me wanna pin you down and fuck you so hard you can’t think straight.”

Oh. Oh.

Lips parted you just stared at him, not sure you’d be able to form a coherent thought let alone words right now. He wanted to fuck you? Since when? Why hasn’t he ever brought this up? Doesn’t he know you’d do anything he asked of you?

Steve let you process, could see the gears turning in that pretty head of yours and your eyes switching from looking at him to looking at where his cock was pressing up against the zipper of his pants. Maybe he’d said too much, gone too far. He was almost certain now that you liked him, wanted him, but maybe it was too overwhelming to be so blunt with you.

“Y’know what baby? I can see you freaking out and I didn’t mean to make you nervous so I’m gonna go to the bathroom, alright? Gonna take care of this real quick and then we can finish the movie, can start another one if you want. I’ll be right back and we can figure this out later.” It was him getting off the couch that broke you out of whatever spell you were under, hand wrapping around his arm and if you weren’t so desperate for this, for him, you’d be embarrassed by the look of panic in your eyes at the thought of not getting to see this, to make him feel good.

“Please stay. Just…fuck just stay, okay?”

Both of you paused, staring at each other and waiting for someone to move or to breathe or just do something. A soft “okay” was murmured between you, Steve settling back into the couch as you closed your eyes and took a deep breath. Fuck was this really happening?

“Whatever you want to happen can happen, baby.”

You definitely didn’t mean to say that out loud but now that you had, a little burst of courage hit you and you just let it pour out. “Didn’t mean to say that out loud I just..I didn’t…I’m nervous. You make me nervous. I want this. I want this so bad you have no idea but I didn’t know you wanted this so now my head is fucked and I’m rambling and kinda freaking out but you can stay. You can stay and I can watch or I can help or whatever you want just..stay. Ok?” You dared a glance up at Steve, his eyes wide and a grin broke out on his face. He looked as if you’d just handed him the moon not offered to watch him get off.

Taking your hand in his he gave you a squeeze, “We’ll go slow. I can start and you can watch and if you wanna do more, feel fucking free, honey. But if you don’t, that’s fine. If you want me to stop, say the word. You’re in charge here,” he paused, lifting his hand to take my chin between his fingers so I’d be forced to meet his eyes, “and for the record, there hasn’t been I second I've known you where I haven’t wanted this. I’ll take anything you give me, swear it. Whatever you want, any way you want.”

“Kiss me, please.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, moving his hand to cup your cheek and pulling you toward him, his lips pressing against yours soft at first, testing the waters and trying to keep you calm. His lips were just as soft as you’d imagined, sweet like the candy he’d been eating earlier. You groaned against him, pushing closer and opening your mouth to invite him in, the thought of his tongue on yours enough to have you reaching your hands into his hair to tug him closer, closer until there wasn’t an inch of space between you.

He pulled back first, a string of spit connecting the two of you and he cursed at the sight, “Jesus, fuck I can’t believe you’ve kept this sweet, pretty mouth away from me. S’not nice, baby. So mean to me, yeah?” If you thought you were desperate before it was nothing compared to now, now that you’d had a taste of him.

“M’sorry Stevie, so sorry, not gonna keep em from you anymore. Promise, promise, promise.” You’re barely making sense, your head spinning and your body on fire. Foreheads pressed together you tried to catch your breath, but you couldn’t think or breathe or function when he was this close to you with his swollen, spit kissed lips just inches away from yours.

Coming out of your post-kiss haze you move back beside Steve, eager and desperate to finally see him, all of him. His eyes widen as your hands go to the button of his jeans, tugging relentlessly and you're just so cute he has to laugh. Eager too and fuck how did he get so lucky?

“Take em off, please. Want them off, Stevie.” You’re full on pouting now and it takes everything in you not to cry. You’d do it if he wanted, you’d do anything. But he doesnt let it get that far, taking your hands off his jeans and cooing at you and it makes you feel a little pathetic but you can’t find it in yourself to care, not when he’s about to finally pull down his pants.

He does so wordlessly, eyes bouncing from his lap to your face every few seconds like he’s checking in on you, making sure he’s not missing anything and that you still want this. It makes your tummy flutter and your heart race, his caring for you. His pants pushed down to his knees is all he can manage, head too fuzzy thinking about you and how he’s so hard it hurts worse than it ever has.

As soon as his jeans were out of your way you were staring, gawking really, at the white boxers sitting so prettily on his hips that were doing nothing to hide how hard, how big he was. A small wet patch forming where you know his tip is resting and it makes your mouth water. He’s just so hot. So hot and it makes it even better that this is because of you. Fuck.

A beg was on the tip of your tongue but before you could he put you out of your misery. Lifting his hips up you had to dig your nails into your palm to keep still while he pulled his boxers down, pretty, messy, cock slapping against his stomach. “Jesus fucking Christ, Steve! You’re so…I’m…fuck.” He breathed out a laugh which quickly turned to a wince when we saw how you were looking at him, at his cock. He felt himself twitch under your stare and you swear your mouth just fell open as if it was meant to be.

His hand drifted towards his cock, eyes still on you to make sure you were okay. You gave him a nod and the sigh of relief you both had when he finally wrapped his hand around himself would have made you laugh if you weren’t throbbing. His head fell back against the couch and you were torn between watching him touch himself or watching his face while he did it. The former won, your eyes trailing the way his hand moved slowly, teasing the both of you.

“S’pretty, you’re so pretty…” You’re not even sure you were talking to him, more just to yourself but he heard you nonetheless. His hips jerked at that, a small moan slipping past his swollen lips as he turned his head toward you, watching you with hooded eyes. I could watch this forever, you thought.

You couldn’t believe it. A few days ago you were thinking of ways to never speak to Steve again and now here you were, watching him stroke his cock in front of you and looking at him as if he was your last meal. He held his hand out, a silent plea for something but you didn’t know what, not until he spoke.

“So good, baby, so pretty. Can you ju-just spit on my hand for me, honey? Lick it, spit on it, anything you want, I just need you please.” His words were slurred and if you hadn’t spent the last few hours together you would think he was drunk. He seemed so out of it, but in the best way. Like he didn’t just want you but needed you. It made you feel good, better than you ever had and it gave you a spark of bravery you were missing before.

Knocking his hand out of your way you leaned forward with cautious eyes, watching as he tried to figure out what you were doing until it dawned on him and his cock twitched in his hand. You leaned forward, face hovering inches above him and spit, both of you watching as it dropped from your mouth to his tip, covering the top of his hand as he began to stroke himself again. His lips parted in an “o”, eyes squeezed shut and his tummy clenching as he let out the loudest moan you had heard, so loud and strong you felt yourself clenching around nothing.

You were wet but with Steve looking and sounding like that you couldn’t bring yourself to care about how bad you were aching right now, far too focused on Steve and how his thighs were starting to shake a little and his hips were starting to move faster and more uneven.

“C-can I?”

His eyes shot open, head shaking furiously before he had even fully understood what you were asking. He knew he wouldn't last more than ten seconds if you touched him but he couldn’t care less. All he could think about was how pretty you were, how good he was feeling, how you had just fucking spit on his cock. He would take whatever you gave him.

With a whine that you would replay in your mind for the rest of your life he took his hand off, tugging yours closer to take his place. Both of you moaned at the contact and you were almost convinced you could cum just from touching him. “Help me, I want you to feel good, please.” He looked like a bobblehead as he nodded, putting his much larger hand over yours and giving it a squeeze, helping you to stroke him just how he liked, though anything from you would feel a million times better than his own hand.

Addicted would be the word to describe it. Now that you had touched him, felt how hot and smooth his cock was in your hand, how pretty it looked all pink and wet and coated in your spit. Steve liked it messy and apparently so did you. You thought you were addicted to his cock, and you were, but nothing prepared you for the absolute filth that started spilling from him once he finally had your hand on him. It made you dizzy and out of breath and goddamn you would have to throw these panties in the trash after this. Absolutely ruined, just like you were.

“Fuckin’ dreamed about this, ‘bout your hand on my cock, s’good, baby.”

“Don’t think I don’t see you squirming, honey. My pretty girl all wet ‘n needy and I haven’t even touched you. Bet you’re drenched and achy, huh?”

“Gonna make me cum, gonna make a mess of us but I bet you’ll be good and clean it up for me, won’t ya, bunny?”

He was babbling now and you could barely make sense of what he was saying but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t and you didn’t want to. His cock was slick with precum and your spit one of his hands guiding yours in quick strokes while his other was gripping the couch so hard his knuckles were white.

“M’close, honey…so so close.”

“Please, Stevie…want it, I need it, please.” And that was all it took. No warning, your words taking him by surprise and hitting him like a punch to the gut. He took his hand off, bringing it to your hair and tugging you to him. It was a messy kiss, lips pressed together while he moaned against you, just breathing each other in while he cursed and whined, his hips stilling and you slowed, looking down just in time to see him cum. Your hand and his lower stomach was covered, his hand that was gripping the couch now thrown over his eyes as he tried to catch his breath.

Chest and neck covered in sweat, he looked good. When he finally had gathered himself enough to look at you, he instantly regretted it. Instead of his innocent best friend, his sweet little bunny, he was looking at a little devil lapping at his cum on her hand like she hadn’t eaten in days. His softening cock twitched against his thighs and he stifled a groan when you hummed happily at the taste.

“Christ, you’re gonna kill me.” You shrugged half heartedly, not even a little bit of you was sorry.

“Can we finish the movie now, Stevie? I’ll probably pass out soon you wore me out, but I’m too tired to move.”

He looked down at you a little confused, your cheeks still pink and thighs still clenched together tightly. “You don’t…I can…I wanna take care of you too, sweetheart. Been dying to get a taste of you, know you’re sweet.”

You giggled and even though you were a mess, in every sense of the word, you didn’t think you could handle anymore and told him as such, eyes already feeling droopy and your body sagging against him. “Next time? Promise you can do anything you want to me next time but watching you cum was enough for me.” Your cheeks flamed as if you hadn’t just licked your best friend’s cum off your hand.

“Alright, honey. Let’s finish your movie, you little vixen. Didn’t even take me out to dinner before you were drooling over my cock. A crime!” His smile was bright as you smacked at his chest and cursed him for teasing you.

You were sure that what had just happened would hit you soon and the panic would set in but for now you couldn’t bring yourself to care as you pressed a kiss to Steve’s bare chest and felt his grin against the top of your head.

Did I mention I was fucked?

#steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington x reader #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you

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all-purpose-dish-soap · 4 months

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34 / 3.2k / part 2 of shark mermen Gaz and Soap for mermay >:)

...

You wake up to the morning sunlight glimmering off Gaz's salt-glazed skin. He's leaning over you, watching you intently with those fathomless all-black eyes.

You gasp and immediately drag yourself away--or try to, given the way his tail is wound under your legs like a snake's. In your haste, you bump up against Soap, who lurks behind you, somehow again taking you by total surprise.

Your heels scrape against sharp gravel as you fight to get out of reach. Gaz's tail coils inward as if to drag you back in, and you almost collapse over it in your scramble. But you finally manage to get out of reach. You stare down at them, your heart pounding in confusion and panic.

Soap smirks like this is the most fun he's had in weeks. His tail swishes in the shallows behind him. "G'morning."

This is a nightmare. A hallucination.

"Don't look so shocked," Soap says. "You've still got all your pieces. You really should try being more thankful. We saved your life."

"Saved my--" You cough and sputter. Salt and sand coat your throat. "You tried to kill me!"

"You would've died anyway," Gaz says. His matter-of-fact tone of voice is somehow more terrifying than Soap's high-energy arrogance.

"We were havin' a little look at you," Soap says. "That's all."

"You bit me!"

"Just a nip," Gaz admits. "I was curious."

"I wasn't," Soap says with a flash of his sharp teeth. He looks down at the second set of teeth marks--his teeth marks--on your calf. "That's a love bite."

⬇ nsfw, monster mermen, overt predator/prey dynamics, blood kink ⬇

You pull your legs in, withdrawing further up the rocky beach as you get to your feet. You don't have much space to get away from them. Worse, this tiny cove will be all but swallowed by high tide. The only way out is either back into the water or up the rocky face of the cliffs on all sides. You can only imagine the rock cutting into your bare hands and feet--or worse, climbing halfway up, slipping, and landing on the carpet of glass-sharp gravel.

There’s nowhere to go.

Soap stretches toward you again as you back away. He does it in this motion like a shrug, like he's luring you into a false sense of security by making you think he just happens to be putting his hands near your ankle. He can’t hide how the muscles in his shoulders bunch, wanting to pounce. "You'd have a better chance jumping back into the sea and holding your breath than climbing those rocks, human. Maybe you outswim us this time, even. Want to try?"

"I'll take my chances," you snap. His claw brushes your foot, and you quickly backpedal, climbing up onto the biggest boulder you can manage. It's only about as waist-high, though, and unsteady. Not quite tall enough to boost you toward any solid footholds up the forty-or-so-foot cliffside. Still, you have to try.

Gaz watches with annoyance as you reach for a shallow indent in the rock. "You'll kill yourself. Be reasonable," he scolds.

Your fingers find uncertain purchase in the shallow ridge overhead, and you force your toes to get with the program and grip what might be a rocky shelf to your side.

The two mer watch you haul yourself up a few feet. Soap pushes himself up the beach to get a better view, tail curling. Gaz studies the muscles in your legs. Then he watches your hands grip the rocks. You look even more defenseless in the sunlight, skin battered from exposure and clothes torn from the waves. His eyes follow the curve of your calf to the blood that's dried on your ankle. It looks bad.

He doesn't see you making it high enough for the inevitable fall to kill you, but it irritates him that you're choosing to act like this. You're fragile. Obviously, if he and Soap wanted to kill you, you'd be dead. They did their best to not kill you. He did, anyway.

"You think we'd let you drown when the tide comes in after keeping your fragile human body alive and intact this long?" Gaz calls up.

You ignore this in favor of boosting yourself up another foot. Your fingers slip on the next hold. Gravel clatters down the rock and showers both mer.

Soap smirks. "Gonnae fall, aye?”

Gaz's voice is flat. "Let her."

You make it up another two footholds before you slip.

Soap's smirk morphs into a wild laugh as you topple backward. You land on the rocks, hard, air knocked out of you with a surprised gasp. Both mer prowl toward you.

You dig the heels of your hands into the wet sand to scramble to your feet again. A sudden, sharp pain makes you hiss. You rip your hands out of the gravel to see a shard of curved glass sticking out of your palm of your dominant hand. Blood stains the base and wells up, trailing down your wrist.

Soap clocks the smell of blood. "What d'you want to try next, hmm?" he muses, tail swishing behind him. "Hurry up before the tide comes in or that cut'll attract somethin' unfriendly."

You glare at him. You want to scream. Or cry. You need help, but what are the chances the rescue boats will come back this way?

"So?" you snap, hiding your hand against your chest as he leans closer. "What does it matter to me if you eat me or something else does?"

"We don't care to eat you," Gaz says. "And if we did, we wouldn't share."

"Don't know about that, Gaz," Soap purrs. "You think she looks delicious, don't ya?"

You look from one to the other, still clutching your bleeding hand. "Why would you bring me here if you didn't want to eat me?"

"Curiosity." Gaz's eyes dart back to your face. “I told you.”

Frustration burns in your chest. "You bit me. You dragged me around the water. What else is fucking left to be curious about?"

Gaz hesitates. To him, you are a sight. Tattered clothes clinging to your damp body, he can see more of you than when he first spied you on that little boat, sitting so carelessly with your legs dangling in the water.

He stares at the bite wound on your arm. It's not just a “nip” like Soap’s--it's deep. A bite that left a deep, dark, ugly mark surrounded by a ring of dark blue-purple bruising. It will scar. The memory of his teeth will always be in your skin. He can still taste you: fresh adrenaline, copper blood, and seawater.

"What you feel like." His voidlike eyes are half-lidded, his voice soft. "Up close."

You glance back at him, your heart pounding. You're defenseless right now--you have been since they threw you onto this beach. So there has to be some truth to what they're saying, right? You remember reading somewhere that sharks are curious. That they sometimes investigate with their teeth, biting without any real intent to injure. So... maybe...

Soap leans in behind you and skims his clawed fingertip up your arm, his voice just past the shell of your ear. "We can take you back to shore, easy. We just need to clean those wounds. How about it," he purrs into your ear. "Gonnae help us help you?"

You shy away from his touch, feeling goosebumps break out all over. "Okay. Okay, fine." You glance down at your hand, then at Soap. "But not... not you."

You look at Gaz, hesitant, but your meaning is clear.

Soap's smirk twists into a frown. "Why not me?"

Gaz snatches your wrist. "Come here, then."

You find yourself pulled into the arms of a shark again as Gaz shuffles you into the crook of his arm. You're awed at how much bigger than humans these shark mer are. He coils his tail under you both. He grips your bloodied wrist in one hand and plants the other firmly on your hip to slide you even more flush against him. Any protest you had dies in your throat as he repositions your injured hand in his and plucks the glass out in a single, rough motion. A gasp punches out of you. The noise has Gaz pulling you closer, his arm wrapped tight around you.

You tense up, watching the claws on his hands very carefully, but he seems to maneuver you in such a careful, conscientious way to keep from hurting you with them that, once he has you positioned on his tail, you relax somewhat. They really are being careful with you, you realize. Some of the tension leaves your shoulders. You breathe out through your teeth. You can let this happen. Some people would love to be in your position, even. There's something tender but not quite gentle in how he grips you and how his thumb presses into your thigh.

He tucks your head under his chin. A low hum vibrates in his chest. Something about the sound is soothing. Or at least distracting enough that you don't notice him moving your hand to his mouth until his hot tongue laves over your wound.

Your blood--in his mouth--and roaring in your ears. How did you let yourself be tricked into letting a shark lap up your blood while he’s holding you close enough that you can see the beads of sea water clinging to the scarred ridges of his chest?

Even Gaz is somewhat surprised at the way his tongue instinctively scrapes over your wound to stem the blood flow. It's not an entirely animal compulsion to lick the wound clean--it's a practical enough way to clear away the blood. Tasting you is a bonus. That's what he tells himself as he trails his tongue down your arm to catch what's dripping down in rivulets to your elbow.

You squirm at the sting. Gaz tightens his grip.

"Is that all you were curious about, then?" Soap asks, sliding closer. He's talking to Gaz but looks down at you with glimmering solid blue eyes.

"Steady," he breathes, his voice still rough. He can smell your nervousness. He can feel your heart pounding. "She's got cuts all over. Let me..."

You feel his hands begin to peel away your tattered clothes and slide under them. You bite down on a squeal, grabbing his wrist. "Hey--!"

Before you can voice your protests fully, Soap's fingers brush the small bite mark on your ankle. You jolt, pulling your legs away and hugging them to yourself. Distracted by this, Gaz lets his free hand glide over the outside of your leg. His calloused fingers follow the curve of your hip, your thigh, your calf. He tugs your leg free so he can study the underside, too. He runs the pads of his fingers all the way back up to the bend of your knee, along the flesh of your hamstring, across the inside of your thigh. You shiver.

At the same time, Soap tugs at the bottom of your tattered shirt with interest. "Why d'you humans wear cloth? Is it because your skin is too thin?" Before you can reconsolidate yourself enough to answer, he scoffs. "All the good it does you. Shreds easier than seaweed."

“Mm,” Gaz agrees absently. He shifts you so your back is back braced up against his chest, your legs bunched up atop his tail. This way, he can keep you here and keep his hands free. He’ll have as much access to you as he needs.

At this angle, you feel rather than see the smooth dark planes of Gaz's chest and stomach. It should be wrong to notice the scars that run over his arms as they pass over you. Or the way his muscles ripple under your back. His body is a dichotomy: warm to the touch and smooth as fine silk, but rough and coarse with scars. Plus there’s the shark half.

Soap snatches up one of your ankles. He prods at your foot. "You get around on these?"

You huff. "When I can, clearly."

He runs the edge of one of his claws over the top of your foot, follows the arched bone underneath, and presses into your instep. He pokes and prods and presses hard on the ball of your foot with a curious look. "Must be slow."

"Doesn't have to be fast," you mutter.

"Then how d'you catch food?"

"I don't have to catch my food."

"You're a predator, though. You've got eyes facing forward."

"I can hunt what I need to hunt.” Salads and instant noodles, but you don’t bother saying that.

"That's good." Soap's hands slide to your toes. He finds it weird how your feet sort of resemble his hands. Little fingers and claws and everything. "As long as you've got prey slower and smaller and softer than you are."

"If that's even possible," Gaz says.

You scowl. Rude.

Gaz seems to enjoy your sour reaction a little too much. "I suppose your prey must be stupid, too."

"Watch it."

A smirk plays at his lips as his gaze flicks down to the rest of you, curled up on his lap in his arms. "Do you think you can make me? What'll you do--scratch me with your claws?" He laces your fingers with his. Your soft, blunt human fingers and his thicker, sharper, callused ones. "Bite me with your razor-sharp teeth?"

"Maybe."

"How vicious." He nudges your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. "Go on, then."

You consider it. Then you realize it would just prove his point, so you turn your face away with a huff. You wish you'd paid more attention to all those National Geographic specials about mer. You don't specifically remember any real-life cases of shark mer eating humans, but there are definitely made-for-TV movies about it.

Soap's hands creep up to your calf. His thumbs prod your shin and then your kneecap. "I can feel her bones," he says in surprise.

"We both have bones.”

"Well, yours are like rock. Ye got thin skin, hard bones. 'Cept your claws." Soap's fingers wander up your bare legs past your kneecaps. When they make it to your thigh, he grips it with his whole hand and squeezes lightly.

He's fascinated--amazed, even--by your body. It's almost enough to make you feel self-conscious, but everything you'd cover up is a fascination for them. Bumps, stretch marks, pock marks, folds, fat, stubble--you feel yourself tense up when hands wander to those parts of yourself you've learned to be ashamed of, but they don't react. Of course they don't, but still. It feels strange.

Gaz notices your discomfort. He keeps his grip light and loose on you, but his eyes linger on the flesh of your thigh in Soap's hands, the way your skin dimples under the pressure. "It's like a seal,” Gaz says.

"My thigh is like a seal?"

"Soft and blubbery,” Soap adds. "And seals are delicious." He leans down and pinches a bit of skin in his teeth.

You squirm a bit at the harmless little nip, but moreso at the way his hand slides a little too far up your thigh. You put your uninjured hand over his to stop it from going any higher.

Unfortunately, that just seems to draw his attention to what might be up there. His eyes flick up to your shorts. "What is it?"

"Nothing."

"Doesn't seem like nothing." He grabs the hem of your shorts to slide them higher.

You grab his hands. "Hey!"

He grins. "You're a bit twitchy.”

"That's not allowed," you tell him, face burning.

"Isn't it?" Gaz says. He loops his long fingers under your thigh and lifts it up as if to give Soap more room. "Whose rule is that?"

You quickly snap your thighs shut anyway, curling your legs into yourself as best you can. "My rule. Don't touch."

A low noise of frustration rumbles in Soap's chest. "Why do humans cover up so much?" His hands slide up your outer thighs, and he bends until his face is almost level with your stomach. His frown deepens as if this were the thing he was really curious about. "Just let me look for a second."

"Absolutely not."

"Waste of nice soft human skin," he mutters. "Hiding it all away."

“Let us in,” Gaz says.

“No.”

"Not even me?" he asks.

"No."

They both frown.

"Why not?” Gaz asks. “What are you keeping there?"

You huff. "It's my-- my reproductive things. Happy?"

"Your... reproductive things." Soap furrows his brow and turns his head to Gaz. "Reproductive like a fish?"

Gaz's fingers continue to squeeze your inner thighs in slow, deliberate motions. "No," he says after a beat. "Like a mammal."

"Ah. So?" Soap gives you a blank look. "Those are all up inside you then, aye? Nothin' to see."

He takes hold of your knee again. You immediately pull out of his grasp and turn to the side, sitting up on your knees this time as Gaz shifts his tail to accommodate you. "Nothing to see as far as you're concerned," you respond, curt.

Soap continues to leer at you, but his prodding is less insistent at your clear refusal. "Just tell us then. Where is it exactly? In the front? Or the back?"

You cross your arms. "None of your business."

"Don't humans mate for fun?" Soap asks.

“I didn't say that.”

"They doooo," Soap singsongs. He smiles and bares his teeth, the sharp points on his canines glinting in the light.

All the heat that had gone out of your cheeks comes rushing back in. " Do you?"

Soap grins again in that annoying way. "We do. Very fun. So what's the big deal?”

"We're not mating is what," you snap. You push yourself off of Gaz’s lap and stumble a bit, catching yourself with a splash into the deepening tide. "When are you taking me back home?"

Soap looks disappointed at the possibility of being deprived so suddenly of his new toy.

Gaz frowns too. "Now you're talking like you didn't enjoy yourself." He pushes himself up and follows you into the water, his fins cutting through it smoothly. "But a deal is a deal. We’ll take you back to shore. Once night falls, of course."

"But it's morning!"

"So it is." Gaz circles your legs, forming a crescent around you as he comes to a rest on his side in the shallow water. He smirks at you like he finds your confusion endearing in a tedious way. "Night will come again. We've got time until then."

"But the tide will come in," you remind them, casting a look back at the tiny little cove.

"It will,” Gaz agrees.

You don't like the way his smirk grows. Soap grins, too.

A slow realization that you're being toyed with comes over you. "What am I supposed to do, then?"

Gaz's smirk turns to a lazy little grin to match Soap’s. "Keep letting us entertain you.”

You hem and haw, but ultimately, when they pull you back into the shallow water with them, you don’t fight it. You’d rather conserve your energy.

Soap's hands join Gaz's, running up your strange human legs again. "We're going to keep her. Right, Gaz?"

"Of course," Gaz murmurs. The sea doesn't like to release its gifts. "Why would we bother leaving a catch intact without keeping it?"

...

part 1 / [part 2]

more Gaz / more Soap / more mer au / masterlist tag

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