#I can heard him and his guest playing music loud

[candybunnieholic]

Insomnia is one awful motherfucker of a bitch because I have been up since 6am in the morning and I couldn’t fall back asleep for many reasons due to the bright light shining through my curtains and my little brother have company over so it was hard to sleep with all of the loud noises anyway I’m a little bit grumpy as well.

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒚 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒔

🕊️a whore's farytale masterlist🕊️

summary - the town's beauty (you) finds herself bargaining her life for her fathers, will the cursed beasts go easy on her? or figure out that she's the one who can break their curse?

warning - smut, monster-fucking, choking, blood play, oral, creampie, name calling, being restrained, biting, refused orgasm/edging, foursome (sorta), being passed around, swearing, death, forced voyeurism, obsessive man, grabbing, groping, trapped, held hostage, slight angst.

18+ only please, the gifs I use aren't mine, header created by me.

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

The story began with three brothers, they were the same in personality but so different in looks. But the universe had other plans for the pompous Princes, the night of their party was the night a certain witch decided to teach them a lesson, one that would not only make their personalities the same, but also their looks. The sound of music and chatter could be heard from outside the castle with how loud it was. Ari, Logan and Geralt– the Princes, are dressed exceptionally well. Only the finest of clothing fits their bulky forms, expensive jewels decorate their body. Ari and Geralt both have their hair tied back in a slick ponytail, one longer than the other. A silky silver matches Geralt’s light gray suit, while Ari wears a silky blue, matching his darker blue suit. Logan has his hair slicked back, although slightly messier with a few strands falling in front of his face, the look doesn’t make him any less handsome. He wears a silky black suit, the colour looking almost devilish on him. 

The brothers split from one another, Ari strides toward a beautiful blonde, twirling her as he pulls her toward the dance floor. Logan stalks off to the bar, glaring at anyone that gets in his way and Geralt heads toward a group of women, already flaunting themselves at him. The party is wild as the guests enjoy themselves, none aware of the storm brewing outside. An old woman trembles as she stands before the large doors, her wrinkled hands shake as she knocks, the sound echoing throughout the room, stopping the party momentarily. The three brothers turn, looking at the door and then to each other, a scowl on their faces, wondering who dares interrupt their party. Logan head tips back as the alcohol slides down his throat before he slams the glass down, his other two brothers express their deepest apologies. All three head towards the door, it may seem a bit extreme, but the three never go anywhere without each other. The only thing that they didn’t do together was share a woman. 

Ari’s hands wrap around the handles, flinging the door open and they scowl down at the ugly old lady before them. “What do you want?” The men stand there, their bulky builds taking up the whole doorway. 

“P–Please, may I come in for some shelter?” The old woman shivers, her nimble hands trembling and she clutches three roses. She offers them to the three princes, “I offer these roses for your kindness.” Her lips quiver, the cold seeming to get to her.

Logan scoffs. “God, no. Find somewhere else you wretched old hag.” The other two nod, not hiding their disgust. A shriek escapes their lips as suddenly the ugly hag magically shifts into a beautiful woman. “What the…”

Her face is set in stone, a harsh glare in her eyes. “Despicable. You’d think Princes like yourselves would be kinder. But, alas you have failed the test.”

“What? What test? You are welcome to come in, Miss.” Geralt stumbles, shamelessly checking out the Enchantress. Her lip curls as though she can see the dirty thoughts swirling around in his mind. 

Her head tilts, the three roses suddenly being encased in three glass domes, the beautiful flowers floating in the centre. “No. For the curse to be broken, you will have to find someone that will want you, all of you.”

Ari scoffs. “Please. We can have anyone want us, are you blind?”

The Enchantress smirks. “What I mean is for them to want all of you in your true forms.” Suddenly magic swirls around the men and their bodies begin to grow and shred, thick luscious fur replacing flesh. Sharp claws replace nicely kept fingernails, eyes turning a bright golden-yellow. Growls begin to fill the air as canines spurt from their gums, replacing their human teeth. The usual men now beasts stood at eight-feet, towering over the witch and before they could strike, she disappeared. Her words rang in their head. ‘If you do not find someone who truly wants you before the last petal falls, you will be stuck as beasts forever.’

Years pass and nearby in a small village, a beautiful young woman named Y/n-Belle hurries through the town. You greeted people as you passed by, a warm smile resting upon your lips. You hurried over to your favourite store, which happened to be the bookstore, a giant grin appears as you push the door open and stumble through, the excitement vibrating throughout your whole body. Y/n-Belle was a very strange, but smart woman, you were the only one in town that got excited about books and reading, causing you to become an outcast and lonely within the people. But you didn’t mind, you were quite content with living in your fantasies. 

The bookstore owner heads over to you, a smile on his face as he hands you one of your favourites. A book that you’ve read a thousand of times, yet would never tire of reading it. You smile, a dreamy look appearing on your face as you peer down at the book, your soft hands grabbing it gently, fingers stroking the cover. “This is my favourite! Far-off places, daring sword fights, magic spells, a prince in disguise…” You pause, your imagination flashing before your eyes as you play out the words in the book. You blink, coming back into reality and you give the man a smile. “Oh, thank you very much!” 

You spin, your blue and white dress swishing around you. You rush outside, the book already opened and your eyes flickering over the words as you walk. Your head was stuck in the book, not noticing the town's most handsome hunter heading straight for you. “Y/n-Belle!” You were hoping that if you ignored him that he would go away, but that did not seem to be the case. He stopped in front of you, nearly causing you to topple over. Gaston chuckles, “the whole town’s talking about you! It’s not right for a woman to read,” He shakes his head, chuckling as if the thought alone was funny. Yet, you had somehow figured that he’s never picked up a book in his life, his small mind proving that the more he talks. “It’s about time you got your nose out of those books and paid attention to more important things— like me!” He boasts, puffing his chest out like he is the most desirable thing to live and breathe. Truthfully, none of the men in your village caught your fancy. You were more into, well… Beasts.

You desperately try to get away without being rude, not in the mood to deal with a petulant child. You could see your escape, but as you opened your mouth to leave. Gaston’s “friend” joined, beginning to insult your father without much of a hello. Your brows furrowed and your lips pursed. “My father is not crazy! He’s a genius, but you are too stupid to realise that!” You blow up, letting your anger consume you without thinking properly. An explosion interrupts the men from responding, the sound coming from your cottage where your father is currently working on something. Without much thought, you take off running. 

You arrive at the cottage, finding your father. Gaston’s words replay in your head, you sit on top of a barrel that is in your front yard. “They think I’m odd, Papa.” You play with your fingers, picking some dirt from underneath your fingernails. 

“Don’t worry, Y/n-Belle. My inventions are going to change everything for us. We won’t have to live in this little town forever.” He says with a giant smile, one that used to give you hope to his dreams. But they slowly begin to dwindle as his inventions haven’t gotten any better, but you don’t want to ruin his dreams by voicing your concerns. You watch as he mounts your horse, Philippe, setting off for the fair with his new invention. “Goodbye, Y/n-Belle! Don’t worry about what others say, you will go places!”

Maybe you did still have hope, especially when he gives you another one of his smiles and a wave. You return it, watching as he goes.  “Goodbye! Good luck, I believe in you, father!”

Still at the cottage, you don’t know that your father got lost on his way and the events following would eventually lead you to your future, whether it be good or bad. But it would definitely be strange, and full of twists and turns.

You sit inside, your head in your book again. Even though you had read it many times, it would still be your favourite. You are pulled out of your fantasy world as you hear a knock at the door. You get up, slowly opening it and sighing as you see Gaston on the other side. “Gaston! What a… pleasant surprise!” You force a tiring smile on your lips. 

Gaston strolls in, taking his shoes off, exposing his dirty and very used socks. He takes a seat at the head of the table, placing his dirty feet on top of your favourite book, causing it to become dirty. A scowl appears upon your face at the disrespect of this man. “Y/n-Belle! There’s not a woman in town who wouldn’t love to be in your shoes. Do you know why? Because I want to marry you!”

You huff silently, knowing that the only way you could get out of this is if you politely decline and make it seem as though you weren’t worthy of him. “Gaston, I’m speechless!” You gnaw on your bottom lip, hating that this disgusting pig of a man won’t leave you alone. “I’m sorry, but… but…” You swallow, knowing you will have to force these words out. “I just don’t deserve you!” You force back scrunching your nose in disgust, watching as humiliation falls upon his face. 

Without a word he stumbles out, hastily putting on his shoes causing him to trip, slipping into some mud. You peeked out, placing a hand over your lips to cover the giggle that threatened to escape past them, watching as the villagers gathered around, hoping to see some sort of wedding or at least a celebration. Only to witness their friend and fellow villager fall into some mud, causing Gaston to feel even more humiliated than before. You’d hope that would at least knock his ego down a few pegs.

You waited until everyone had disappeared from your home before rushing out to feed the chickens. You hear something causing your head to whip around and you find your horse, Philippe, alone without your father. You head over to him, checking for something, anything. “Philippe! What are you doing here? Where’s Papa?!” He whines anxiously and you immediately rush to the house to grab your cloak before running back to him and climbing onto his back. You feel frightened as you think of all the possibilities of what could’ve happened to your father. This feeling pushes you to return to the mysterious forest, allowing you to find a castle that looks like it has been abandoned for many years.

You try and steady, Philippe, brows furrowing when you spot something on the ground. With swift movements, you dismount your horse and move toward the object. A soft gasp passes your lips as you recognise your father’s hat. Without a second thought, you hurry toward the gloomy castle, pushing past the heavy doors and deciding to wander the vast deserted corridors. Your main focus was to find your father, no care of what may happen to you. “Papa? Are you here? It’s Y/n-Belle!” You were met with silence, you continued your search not knowing of the objects that are alive because of the curse within the castle walls.

You stumble along as you finally discover your father locked away in a cell. You gasp, having to kneel as the only opening was at feet level. “Papa! We have to get you out of here!” Suddenly you felt as though you were being watched. 

“What’re you doing here?”

“You shouldn’t be in our castle, Little one.” 

“Leave now!” 

Your eyes widen when you hear three different voices coming from within the shadows. “Please, let my father go! Take me instead!”

There was a scoff filled with curiosity from the shadows. “You would take his place?” 

“S–step into the light please…” You asked. Your expression morphed as you stared horrified at three huge, ugly Beasts– well, they weren’t ugly… But you wouldn’t let them know that between your thighs you felt yourself clench around nothing. You gulped, you didn’t want to be anywhere near these monsters, but you agreed to take your father’s place. “I–” You swallow the saliva that gets stuck in your throat. “I would. I will take his place.” Your words left no room for argument, you were putting your foot down. You didn’t know that you signed up for forever with the three Beasts.

As the words left your lips, one of the Beasts grabbed your father from his cell and dragged him throughout the castle, once outside he was thrown into a carriage that would take him home. The other two begin to walk, causing you to follow behind nervously. The third joining immediately, you let your eyes wander. Taking everything in, it felt like one of those books you always had your nose buried in. 

Your voice cuts through the silence, sounding as though it echoes through the dark halls. “D–do you three have names?” As I don’t want to continue calling you Beasts in my head, you think the last bit to yourself. Knowing it would be rude of you to voice out loud. 

“Ari.” 

“Logan.” 

“Geralt.” 

They growl out, hardened eyes landing on your tiny form. Ari steps toward you, towering over you as you shiver, your eyes wide and you try to shrink into yourself. “Our castle is your home now, so you can go anywhere you like…”

Geralt cuts in. “Except the West Wing.”

You stare back, innocently asking. “What’s in the West Wing?” 

Their bodies tense and they glare as Logan growls out. “It’s forbidden!” Geralt opens a door to your new bedroom and pushes you in. 

“You will join us for dinner. That’s not a request.” Ari stares you down, stopping you from protesting. They shut the door and stalk off, separating to different parts of the castle. You lie down on the bed, burying your face into the pillows. You knew you would never escape this prison, nor would you ever see your father again. Maybe you should’ve married Gaston, at least then you wouldn’t be stuck with Beasts.

The disgusting truth though was how much you weren’t disgusted by their forms. Their behaviour. It was definitely something out of those books you read, just less romantic and more animalistic. You huff, shaking your head of those thoughts. You will in no way let them find out about this. It was something different than other women would fantasie about and you didn’t want those… FREAKS! To judge you.

You refused to go to dinner when the time came, knowing you wouldn’t be able to contain yourself if you stayed in the same room as them for too long. Oh, how your father would be disgraced by the woman you’ve become. You had grown bored and hungry and had decided to wander the castle in hopes of finding the kitchen. With quiet footsteps, you exited your room and tiptoed down the halls, peaking your head around corners and stopping whenever you heard the slightest of noises.

You were no fool, the Beasts had been mad when you refused to dine with them and if one of them were to find you wandering the halls in search of food. Well you fear you may become theirs instead. Though, you wouldn’t mind them… No, you couldn’t let your thoughts wander for too long. 

A small squeal passes your lips when you finally stumble upon the kitchen, happily making your way over to the fridge before a voice interrupts, causing your heart to drop into your stomach. 

“You know… If you had come to dinner. You wouldn’t be so hungry now.” The voice was deep, a growl slipping through with each word. You spin, eyes wide as they land on Logan, how had you missed such a big figure? You squeak, not knowing what to reply with. Logan raises a furry brow, “Cat got your tongue, Little one?” He moves fast, now towering over you. “Or should I say Beast?” 

Your thighs press together, a whimper slipping past your lips and your wide eyes stare up at him. “I–I…” Stupid, why the hell would you try to speak when you’re in this position? Your voice would give you away, you daft bimbo. You scowl at yourself, how could you be so dumb when you were the only one to read in your village? You gulp as he leans in with a smirk. You don’t know that their senses had heightened with their transformation, you had practically given yourself away since you broke into their castle. 

“Hmm? No words?” Your hunger forgotten and replaced with something else. You notice how his hand, though actually a paw, comes up, a lit cigar between his clawed fingers, bringing it to his lips, puffing on it as he stares into your eyes watching as you follow his movements. “Ya know, my brothers are angry with the fact you ignored their invitation.” 

Your eyes roll and you scoff. “Well, excuse me for not wanting to dine with those that are keeping me hostage.” His brow raises again, not expecting so many words to pass your lips. You gulp, where the hell did that come from? 

“Huh, so you do say more than four words.” He leans closer if that was even possible, “Better watch your tone with me, Little one or else I’m gonna have to do something about it.” With those words, he disappears and you whimper. Fantastic, the only pair of knickers you have on you and they are completely drenched. You wouldn’t be surprised if the other two could smell you wherever they were.

You shakily prepare a small meal, hurriedly eating it so you don’t have another run in. When you finish, you swear you hear someone speak. But looking around, you find no one. Your brows furrow, are you finally going insane? You begin to get up when you hear it again.

“Excuse me, Miss.” You look around again, what the hell? “Down here, Miss.” You look down and let out a small squeak of surprise, there stands before you a small clock that seems alive? He blinks up at you, a smile on his face? “Hello. I am Cogsworth. I am sorry for frightening you.”

“I–it’s f–fine.” You clear your throat. “It’s fine. You didn’t frighten me, just a bit startled is all.” You try to smile, “Have you been here this whole time?” You hoped he hadn’t, you wouldn’t want to know what an object thought of the previous events. 

Cogsworth shakes his head. “No, Miss. Master Logan ordered that I escort you back to your quarters. He doesn’t want you wandering about… In your condition.” His eyes squint, as though he understands yet how could you know he would? You had no clue that the alive object was once a person. 

“Oh, okay.” You stand, smoothing down your dress about to follow but you stop. “Actually, Cogsworth. Would you mind giving me a tour of the castle, please?” 

He looks at you for a few seconds, as though he was hesitating before he nods. “Okay, follow me. Miss.” You spend most of your night getting acquainted with your new home before you stop underneath a dark staircase. Noticing how Cogsworth seems to want to hurry past it without acknowledging it. 

“What’s up there?” Your curiousity seeps through your words. 

Cogsworth practically shakes as he answers. “Nothing, absolutely nothing of interest at all in the West Wing.” Your interest piqued as you heard West Wing. You watch as he’s too busy focusing on ensuring the two of you don’t get caught, especially near this staircase. Allowing you to escape unnoticed, racing up the staircase and into a long hallway lined with broken mirrors.

“Well… That’s bad luck for many, many years.” You wet your lips as you cautiously opened the doors at the end of the corridor. You enter the dank, filthy room strewn with broken furniture, torn curtains and grey, gnawed bones. Your eyes wide, taking it all in before they land on the only living object or should you say objects. There behind a glass dome were three shimmering roses. Entranced, Y/n–Belle lifted the cover and reached out to touch one soft, pink petal. You were so entranced that you did not hear Ari enter the room.

“I warned you never to come here!” He advanced on you. “GET OUT! GET OUT!” Your daze had been broken, desire now replaced with fear. You became terrified of his rage, causing you to turn and run. You run out of the room, down the stairs and past Cogsworth and a candle? You didn’t have time to stop, you needed to leave. Not even your lust for your fantasy to come true could stop you. Your feet had taken control of your body. 

“Promise or no promise, I can’t stay here another minute!” You flee, finding your horse and taking off. You gallop through the snow until you are met with a pack of fierce, hungry wolves. Your eyes widen, mouth opening and closing as you don’t know whether to scream or breathe. Through your terror, you forgot about the horse you sat upon. He reared, causing you to fall to the ground, tumbling into the snow below. They were advancing on Philippe, so with quick movements, you found a large stick and defended your horse. 

“Stay back!” You swing, swiping at them. Hoping and praying that they would leave. Their attention moved from your horse and you would’ve sighed of relief but instead you choked up, the wolves had now turned on you. Their canines bared as they snarl. Oh no, no no no. You thought, brows furrowing as worry fills you. Well, at least they are no longer after Philippe. 

You shriek as they pounce, about to rip you apart until suddenly a large paw pulls the animals off of you. It was Ari and you notice Logan and Geralt standing behind him. Anger evident on their faces, you knew it was directed towards you for leaving and now nearly getting yourself killed. You struggle to your feet, stumbling into a pair of arms as all you can do is watch the wolves turn and strike Ari and Logan, fierce growls filling the cold air. The wolves were no match for the two, being torn off and flung as a ferocious howl escapes the Beasts, surprising the wolves before they flee into the night. 

Logan grunts while Ari stumbles, collapsing into the snow. Wounded. The brothers attention now focused on him, Geralt’s hold loosening and this could’ve been your chance to escape. But what did you have at home? And when you looked at the fallen Beast, you knew you couldn’t leave him. Even though he had his brothers. Logan and Geralt pull Ari up, arms wrapped around him as he leaned against them. He was not the fighter of the two and not even he knew why he didn’t let Geralt fight in his place. 

The Beasts barely spare you a glance, they began to walk away, expecting you to get on your horse and leave. But you didn’t move, with a heavy heart you watched them walk from you. Did your chance slip through your fingers? Philippe nudges you, looking at you with those big eyes and you sigh. He nudges you again, gesturing you to look and when you do, your mouth opens. The three Beasts had stopped, as if they were waiting for you and without a second thought. You grabbed your horse and raced toward them, offering your horse for Ari to rest on and to get to the castle faster so you could tend to his wounds. 

Back at the castle, you cleaned Ari’s wound. “Thank you… For saving my life even though you didn’t have to.” You whisper, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. “I… I hope you can forgive me for running.” You look up from his wound to his face, not knowing the feeling he feels when you look at him like that. 

His paw covers your hand, “There’s nothing to forgive, Beauty. I’m the one who should apologise for scaring you.” You shake your head, his gaze gets distracted by the way your hair frames your face and how the light of the sunrise hits your skin, causing you to glow. “Do you think I’m okay enough to walk for a bit? I have something I want to show you.” 

Your brows furrow, looking between his wound and him. His face makes it hard for you to say no, but you also didn’t want him to hurt himself by moving too much. You look up again, being met with puppy dog eyes which makes it harder to resist when he’s not exactly human looking. “...Okay! Okay, but only for a little bit. I don’t want you hurting yourself and ruining all of my work.” You assist him as you help him up, allowing his arm to wrap around you. Which is quite difficult seeing as there is a massive height and size difference. Oh god, you begin to think what else is huge… How would you be able to possibly fit it inside of you? You shake your head, ridding yourself of those thoughts, hoping that the Beast wouldn’t catch on. 

Ari leads you through the halls before stopping upon two large doors. He leans forward, opening them and you both walk inside. Your eyes widen and your mouth falls open. “Oh my god!” You look around, a gasp escaping your lips. “This is so beautiful! I’ve never seen so many books in all my life!” 

Ari had smiled a real smile for the first time since he was a child. “Then it is yours.” You look at him in disbelief, you could’ve dropped to your knees right then and there. 

…

Okay, so you did. You fell right to your knees, not caring that they scraped against the carpet or that a squeak of desire left you as you finally gave into your desire. Ari stared wide-eyed down at you, his mouth wide open as shock filled him. He was not expecting that, if he had known all it would take was giving you their library, he would’ve done that from the beginning. “What… What are you doing?” 

Your eyes widen, finally reality hits. “Oh! Oh, I’m so sorry!” You go to stand, but his paw stops you, keeping you in place. You could feel your knickers dampen. Not the same ones, they had mysteriously gone missing when you went to shower before tending to Ari. But you were thankful to whoever laid out new clothes for you. 

“I didn’t say you had to get up. I just have never seen someone drop to their knees so fast.” He felt himself harden, his cursed body did come with an added bonus. He was now much larger than his human self, he wasn’t small before. But now it was monstrous. 

You watched with wide and lust filled eyes as his pants expanded, stretching to the point it looked as though the seams would break. “Can… Can I?” You gesture to his bulge, looking up at him with large, doe eyes. 

“Fuck.” He nods, growling. “Go ahead, Beauty.” His golden-yellow eyes stare down at you, canines digging into his bottom lip as you press your hand against the bulge, feeling it, squeezing it. Your hand is tiny compared to him, causing a whimper to slip from your lips and a growl from his. “You gonna play with it or suck it?” He growls, frustrated. You squeeze your thighs together, grabbing the waistband of his pants and pulling them down. You let out a moan as his member springs free. Nearly slapping you in the face with how big it is. 

You lean forward hesitantly, kissing his weeping tip before bringing it into your mouth and sucking. Your eyes slip closed as you moan around it, it felt so perfect against your tongue. It was a struggle to get the whole tip in your mouth, right now you could only get a small bit in. But you were going to make this work, you didn’t know when another opportunity like this would present itself. Ari watched from above as you struggled to fit him inside, groaning at the sight. 

Your tongue flicked over the slit, collecting the pre-cum that leaks out. You let out a whimper as you slowly move further down his cock, taking more of him inside of your mouth. You can feel yourself dripping onto the floor with how wet you are. Ari’s paw slams down on a nearby bookshelf, his growls fill the room, echoing throughout the castle. You rest your hands on his furry thighs, gripping them as you force more of him in, mouth stretched as wide as it can, sucking him in. One hand moves to the rest you can’t fit in, no matter how much you try and force it to. You wrap it around the base, twisting and jerking while your head bobs up and down, tongue swirling and tracing his veins, causing more sounds to escape the Beast. 

You don’t notice the two brothers that hide in the shadows, watching you suck off their brother. They felt themselves become filled with hope and desire, knowing you were the one that would break their curse. Ari grips your head, holding you down as he cums down your throat, watching it overflow and drip from the sides of your mouth, trying to swallow everything desperately like the good girl you are. When he pulls his cock free from your mouth, all three Beasts take a sharp breath at how good you looked covered in cum, your eyes glazed over with a need to be fucked. 

After the events in the library, everything began to change. Throughout the month, you would find yourself suddenly pushed up against a wall, lips attached to any exposed flesh, hands beneath your dress or groping your breasts. You were so sexually frustrated, the Beasts would rile you up only to leave you wanting more. They would never let you cum, they weren’t even trying to get themselves off. You began to spend your time with them, always sitting on one of their laps, never straying far. If one found you reading or even just simply existing. You’d suddenly be under them, at some point you had cried, begging them to fuck you. 

That evening you were sitting on Geralt’s lap, your lip pulled between your teeth as he gently grinds you down on his bulge. Stopping whenever he felt you were too close. Logan lounged across from you, a cigar dangling carelessly between his smirking lips as his dark eyes watched you. Your gaze was pulled from Logan when Ari leant behind him on the chair. “Are you happy, Y/n–Belle?”

You hum, a bit dazed and distracted by the tingles zapping between your thighs. “Yes. I am very happy, I only wish I could see my father and know he made it home safe. I miss him very much.” 

Ari hummed in response, turning as if he’s searching for something. Geralt continues his torture on you, making your head fall back as you near your orgasm again, whining when he stops, taking it away. “There is a way.” You blink, trying to focus on what Ari is saying. He moves toward you, handing you a magic mirror. In it, you see your father being locked away as the town gathered around, lit torches in their hands as they chant about killing the Beasts and saving you. An unhappy look crosses your face as you see Gaston leading it. “If you need, you may go if you like.” The Beasts didn’t want you to leave. 

You shake your head, “There is no point. There is a group already heading this way, it would be stupid of me to leave now.” Stupid Gaston always ruining your peace. Why was the man so adamant on marrying you? You stand, “I am going outside for a bit of fresh air, is that okay?” You could not think straight when in the same room as them, it was like all common sense flew out the window and the only thing you wanted was for them to use you. 

Ari nods, Logan and Geralt scowl when they hear about people coming to their castle. Geralt had seen the look on your face when seeing that man appear in the mirror, a plan forms and he decides to share it with his brothers. Who wouldn’t love a live show?

Your coat flows around you as you exit the castle, cold air immediately hitting you. You wander over to the blooming rose bushes, gently brushing your fingers over the petals. A sudden squeal escapes you as someone grabs you, putting their arms around you and whispering into your ear. “Hello, MY Y/n–Belle. So far from home, why not come back, huh? Come back and I’ll forgive you, Y/n–Belle, come back and we can marry.” Gaston’s voice caused unwanted shivers to roll through you, his was not the voice you wanted to hear nor the arms you wanted around you. 

“I will never marry you! Why can’t you get that through your thick head?!” You struggle against his grip, teeth clenched as your words come out rough. “You have gone mad, Gaston!” 

Gaston grinned evilly, “Good thing I don’t care, Y/n–Belle. Once I have killed the Beasts, you will be MINE.” You watched as the villagers tore through the castle’s doors, the sound of shouts and a fight breaking out can be heard over the howling wind. “Come. You shall take me to the Beasts, so that I can rid of them and claim you as my own.” His grip on your arm is bruising, dragging you past everyone and up the stairs. You didn’t know why he had chosen this direction, the castle was huge, there was no way he’d be able to find them so quickly… Unless he had been watching, waiting. 

“Ah huh! The Beasts! You are not as terrifying as her lunatic of a father said you were!” He pulls you closer to him, three sets of growls ripple through the air as they watch your face become pained. “I shall kill you at last, so that I can claim Y/n–Belle as my own.” 

“There’s three of us and one of you. What makes you think you can take us?” Geralt growls, his eyes firmly set on Gaston’s. You shivered, you didn’t know whether it was from fear or horniness. You felt yourself throb and nodded to yourself, definitely the latter. “I suggest you let go of our HoneyBelle.” 

Gaston chuckles, pulling a gun from. Well you don’t exactly know where? It was definitely not in his hand or anywhere really when he grabbed you. “This. I am the best hunter there is. I shall have all three of your heads mounted on my wall by morning.” It was a wonder how his head never exploded from how big his ego was. It was almost as big as well… Your mind began to drift again and you had to shake your head to try and rid yourself of these thoughts, it wasn’t the time. 

The Beasts smirked, they had learnt to read your body well. Their Little one, Beauty and HoneyBelle was thinking inappropriately at an unfortunate time. You had come out of your daze in time to notice the designs on the wall come to life. Like a snake, the marble vines slithered across the floor and wrapped around Gaston’s leg. “What is this?!” He tries shaking his leg, letting go of you from the distraction. You squeak as arms pull you toward them, you look up to see Ari before he places you behind him. Gaston snarls, seeing you had gotten away. “You freaks! You think you can defeat me?! I AM THE GREAT GASTON!” He roared, but he was no match for a Beast's roar. 

Having shrunk into himself as Logan roared back, it allowed the vine to pull him into a room that was conveniently set up. It dragged him over to a chair placed in the middle of the room, the arms had strangely been taken off. Gaston was harshly placed down onto the chair, the vines wrapping around him and the seat, securing the angered hunter. “I will escape this foolishness and take Y/n–Belle as my own!” He struggles against the vines grip. 

The three Beasts stalk into the room, pulling you gently, but possessively along. Logan pulls you to stand in front of them, from Gaston’s perspective. You looked so tiny before them, you didn’t even look that tiny next to him and he was the tallest in the village. The Beasts towered over you, looking menacing to everyone but you. 

“You will see who she belongs to. Won’t he, Little one?” Your thighs press together, feeling yourself throb between them and you nod. “Take off your dress.” Your hands move shakily as you lift your dress over your head and gently toss it to your side, Gaston’s eyes widen as he finally gets to see what he’s been wishing for. Maybe the Beasts are going to let him have a taste before he kills them. He smirks at that thought, becoming cocky once more. Logan moves toward you, staring at the hunter as he grasps your breast, squeezing it before rubbing your hardened nipples. “You see this? See how she reacts to our touch?” He growls, everyone in the room watches as you whimper, eyes watering and thighs pressed tightly together. 

“Why don’t you go and lay on his lap, Little one.” He tells you, “On your stomach, no touching.” He glares at Gaston as he says the last part. Knowing in some way that the hunter would try and possibly slip through those vines like the slippery git he is. Logan’s paw hits your arse, pushing you forward with a slap. You squeal, timidly walking over to the bounded man, laying across his lap, the vines seem to welcome you instead of digging into you. 

You bite your lip as you watch the Beasts stalk forward, coming closer. You whimper as Ari kneels between your legs and Geralt stands above your head. Logan stands directly in the middle, staring down Gaston who greedily stares down at you, his mouth opens and everyone knows he’s about to say something, but a vine slithers up and covers it before he can speak. Wrapping itself around until he’s gagged and bound. 

“Such a pretty sight, Beauty. Are you ready to cum after all of this waiting? Hmm? We know we’ve been depriving you of it.” You moan at his words, not being able to respond or place your head down because you were too focused on the giant bulge in front of you. You throb at the sight, you could never get over how large they were. 

“It seems she can’t reply at the moment, Ari. Our girl is a bit dumbstruck.” Geralt tilts his head, looking at Gaston. “Whores, you understand right?” His golden-yellow eyes narrow as his gaze turns back to you. “Why don’t you take my cock out, HoneyBelle. Show this human what you prefer.” You whine, squirming in Gaston’s lap as you reach your hands out quickly, the Beasts chuckle at how desperate you are. 

You had only seen Ari’s cock, none of the other Beasts would give you the pleasure to see theirs. It felt like such a punishment when you could feel them, but you weren’t allowed to see. When you saw Ari’s you thought he was the biggest that you’ve ever seen, obviously you were wrong. Geralt seemed to at least be an inch longer, maybe more. Your eyes flickered over to Logan’s clothed cock, wondering if he was bigger than these two. 

Geralt moves your head back to him, your mouth falls open as he guides his member inside, forcing it in unlike Ari. Speaking of, the other Beast dives between your thighs, lapping up your arousal like a man starved. Your eyes roll to the back of your head at the intense pleasure that shoots through you. Your moans vibrate around Geralt’s member, causing him to tilt his head back and let out a roar. He holds your head in place as he begins to thrust back and forth, fucking your mouth like it’s his own personal fleshlight. You drool from being used, allowing him to thrust in and out easier. 

Ari palms your arse and thighs, holding you close as he devours your sweet cunt. His tongue thrusts in and out of your glistening hole before switching to lick and suck your puffy clit, taking the little bead between his sharp canines. A giant grin appears on his face as your squeals can be heard around his brother’s cock, your squirms become frantic and your toes curl. He laps your sweet juices up, knowing he would never let you go after having tasted you. 

Gaston grunts, becoming disgusted with himself as he hardens at the sight, his growing bulge pushes against your stomach. Twitching as you continue to squirm against him. Logan’s glare sharpens as he notices. 

“Stop.” Everything ceases and you whine, tongue hanging out of your mouth, eyes crossed and cunt tingling as you wonder why the pleasure had been stopped. He waves his paw, gesturing for you to be pulled up. You squeal as Ari pulls you up, his large bulge presses into your back, quite close to your shoulders with how tall he was. “Are you getting off on our Little one?” The growl echoes throughout the room and goes straight to your cunt. 

Logan pulls you from Ari’s hold, holding your hip with one paw while the other pulls his pants down, releasing his thickened member. You feel it slap against your body and jolt, a gasp escaping you. You had a guess that he definitely was the biggest between the three. He grasps his throbbing member in his hold, stroking it as he directs his leaking tip against your sopping cunt. Logan holds eye contact with the defenseless hunter as he thrusts into you, stretching your walls wide. Your head falls back into his chest, no sounds escape your opened mouth as you are speechless. You swear you could see colours with how delicious the stretch felt, you had never felt so full before.

The Beasts and the hunter gulp as they see the bulge appear on your stomach, it slowly disappears as Logan pulls out slowly only to thrust back in. Your arms flail about as you try and find something to grip onto, your hands grab onto his biceps, arms and fur as he begins to pound into you. Growls fill the room as Logan picks up his brutal pace, slamming in and out of you like a wild animal. His grip on your hips tighten, canines bared as he lowers his head down to your exposed neck. 

“Logan!” His brother’s eyes widen as they go to stop him, but it’s too late. Logan latches onto your neck, sinking his canines into your flesh and growling as your warm blood seeps into his mouth. Your eyes roll back as your cunt clenched tightly around the Beast. Your back arches, nails digging into his flesh as you scream, cumming around him repeatedly. 

“Logan!” A different shout comes through. Not his brother’s, but yours. You cry his name as he continues to pull orgasms from your small body, fucking into you harder and faster until he pulls away from your neck and roars, thick ropes of cum shoot out of his thick, angry tip and coat your walls. Filling your tiny cunt to the brim, possibly even making its way into your stomach before it drips out, coating your thighs white. He suddenly feels weakened as he pulls out of you, he stumbles back and falls. Ari catches you as they stare at their brother wide-eyed.

“The curse! It must be the curse!” The brother’s exclaim, looking at each other before looking at you with wide grins. 

“Are you ready for more, Beauty?” You nod rapidly, already feeling desire take over as you think about these Beasts using you again. He pulls you over to the hunter, pressing you into the side of the chair, your breasts pushing into Gaston’s face, back arching as Ari grips onto you and you grip the chair tightly as he guides his throbbing member into your used cunt, his eyes roll back at the feel of how tight you are. “Fuck, Beauty. So perfect for us.” He leans forward, flattening his tongue against your wounded neck, licking up your blood before sinking his teeth in as he begins to pound into you, pushing you into the desperate man. Gaston is forced to suffer as your bare breasts press into him whilst you get fucked by another man. Ari towers over you, covering your whimpering form. His cock slides in and out of your fluttering hole with sharp thrusts, already feeling his end nearing. He slides his paw to your stomach, pressing on the bulge before continuing to travel down to your puffy clit and plays with it. 

You jerk, mouth falling open as your walls tighten around him and your juices flow out, coating him as you cum, your toes curl and your moans fill the room. Ari follows quickly behind, stuffing his cock deep inside of you as he lets go with a roar, filling you with his cum alongside his brother’s. You feel your stomach filling from a weird angle, as he slides out of you, you look down to see your stomach bulging a tiny bit. You whimper, your cunt pulsates as you move toward Geralt, looking up at him with wide eyes. Desperate to be filled again. Not noticing Ari slumping against the wall, his body draining. 

Geralt growls, gripping your throat between his clawed fingers. “You want more, HoneyBelle?” You nod, pouting. Your eyes glazed over. “What a slut you are.” He tuts, “I want to test something out first.” His golden-yellow eyes narrow as he slides his cock deep into your used cunt with one quick thrust. Watching your eyes roll back for possibly the twentieth time that night, he was surprised they hadn’t gotten stuck. He stills and you whine, clutching him, your hips move as you bounce yourself up and down his cock. His grip around your throat tightens. “I want you to watch, HoneyBelle.” You pout, looking at him before he turns your attention to poor defenseless Gaston. 

Your eyes widen as you watch the vines slowly remove themselves from his body, you clutch Geralt tightly as Gaston blinks, he slowly stands and with a vicious growl, he pulls out a dagger and launches himself towards the two of you. Your cunt tightens around the Beast and with wide eyes you watch as Geralt swipes his paw that isn’t gripping your throat, his claws dig deeply into the hunters throat, large slashes appear as Gaston’s body drops. His face permanently set in a shocked expression. You whimper, feeling yourself drip around Geralt’s member. 

You blink, looking innocently at his face as he smirks. “Just what I thought. You are a very nasty whore, HoneyBelle.” You clench around him, the paw that is marked with Gaston’s blood comes up and grips your face while the other moves down to hold onto your thighs. You felt so dirty, but in a good way. You don’t notice him moving you over to a wall, the vines from before slither over, wrapping around your wrists and ankles as they hold you open for all to see. Geralt grins, sliding his bloody paw down your body, leaving a trail of blood that mixes with your own. “I’m going to fuck you now, HoneyBelle. So.” Thrust. “Fucking.” Thrust. “Hard.” With his last word, the Beast begins to pound into you, splitting you open.

You scream and moan, your nails digging into your palms. You can’t help but struggle against the vines, wanting, NEEDING, something to hold onto. Your head hits the wall as your half–lidded eyes watch Geralt ruin you, fucking you like the wild Beast he is. His golden-yellow eyes never leave yours. Not until he leans forward and digs his canines into the very same spot Logan and Ari did, reveling in the taste of your blood, the feel of it flowing into him, dripping down his chin. 

The feeling of his cock splitting you open and his canines ripping through your flesh cause your vision to go white as you cum, squirting all over the Beast. Your arousal coats him, dripping down his thick member. Geralt growls, slamming into you harder and faster, his head now out from your neck, eyes watching you before he buries himself inside of you. Cumming deep into you, his gaze flickers down and he watches as your stomach bulges a bit more from being filled by three different types of cum. He grins, slowly thrusting as he emptied himself inside of you before pulling out and falling to the ground like his brother’s.

The vines don’t pull away, you hang against the wall. Your eyes flutter as your mind is dazed. You swear you see gold swirling around the three Beasts bodies, causing your brows to furrow as you try and blink away the cloudiness. You were saddened that in place of your Beasts were normal human men… You broke their curse. 

The three brother’s groan, slowly dragging themselves up from the floor. Their eyes scan each other before looking down at themselves, seeing their human selves. “Finally. The curse has been broken and I am no longer bound as a Beast.” You whimper, causing their eyes to shoot toward you.

Ari moves over, hands skimming your soft body. “Hello, Beauty.” You frown. 

They were handsome, you weren’t blind. All three of them looked different to each other and their animal form. Ari with medium length brown hair and pretty blue eyes, a bushy beard covering some of his face. Logan with short dark brown hair that somehow had styled small horns on top and hardened blue eyes, a slight beard covering his face. Then there’s Geralt, different from the two with his long white hair and golden eyes, a five o’clock shadow rests on his face. You stared at the brothers. They were gorgeous for humans, somewhat god-like but deep down, you desired the Beasts within them. Somehow, it made them… More.  

Geralt smirks at his work. “I am not going to lie, I will miss being a Beast.” Logan grunts at his brother’s words. The vines finally unravel from your wrists and ankles, allowing Ari to catch you and carry you over to the bed. 

You would later learn that the men wouldn’t stay just men, the Beast still lived within, especially when they tasted your sweet blood before the curse was broken.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[cinnbar-bun]

Affinity (Various OP Characters x Reader)

Characters: Brook, Buggy, Beckman, Crocodile, Zoro, Mihawk, Corazon, Shanks, Law

Rating: SFW

Word Count: ~4k

A/n: Reader is GN! I kinda made this after hearing about a special thing in my religion, and decided I wanted to do this. I of course made it more romantic in nature than the original idea goes, but hey, romance! I had my followers choose 7 originally but it went to 9, which is a very lucky number in my religion so maybe it was a sign? Who knows! Please enjoy <3

Tagging: @fanaticsnail @gingernut1314 @undeadeurydice @i-am-vita @kiribuchi @therosietoesy (sorry, I forgot who asked for Law my bad)

———————————————————————

There is a belief that before you are born, you were once a soul that had existed with other souls. Souls who had an affinity for each other would find that affinity carried in their time as a human. Souls who repelled each other would find that distaste carried over as well. Perhaps it was preordained, fate, destiny- whatever you’d call it. Regardless, it seems your soul has met with someone who once had an affinity for you…

Brook

Being an undead figure unable to pass on was not what Brook had in mind. In some ways, he was grateful for another chance at life, another chance to do what he previously was too dead to finish. Albeit, being a pile of bones did have its drawbacks.

While he could still function and do things many humans did, fact was, he was anything but. One look at him would easily make him stand out as something like a freak of nature.

Skeletons cannot love and be loved like a human. He could hold, but could not be held like a human. Admittedly, it had bothered him on occasion, but he always tried to brush it off with a simple hum or shrug. After all, he had his friends and crewmates- and he had a promise to continue fighting for. That should be enough.

But he couldn’t stop his eyes (if he had any) from wandering… couldn’t stop the way his mind wondered…

Just what could it be like if I too could fall in love?

Ah, but that’s such a silly thing for a skeleton to consider. Who could ever love the undead remains of someone long forgotten?

He’d practically given up on such silly notions like love or a relationship- it didn’t fit his current predicament.

So Brook focused on his music and his performances instead. He held up his violin and decided to waste some time on this sunny day playing for his audience of a few blue birds chirping at this green park. It was beautiful and reminded him of his day with the Rumbar Pirates- agh, nostalgia was always his weakest attribute, he thinks.

His fingers drift along the strings of the instrument, peacefully playing his weary heart away. He doesn’t recognize he has another guest until he hears slow clapping.

“What?” He turns his head, surprised to see you on the bench, smiling and clapping.

“That was lovely,” you comment. Time slows still and your eyes meet, shining (e/c) eyes with hollow black sockets.

If he had skin, perhaps he would’ve been red or sweating buckets. As a skeleton, he was not able to do things. But Brook was still a man through and through, and he couldn’t help but freeze at seeing the way your eyes were soft and full of admiration.

“I’m glad you thought so. Music is my pride and joy.”

“I can tell,” you reply. “I felt like I forgot to breathe for a moment when I heard that. I’m sorry for watching, though, if you weren’t looking for an audience.”

“N-no, actually it was…” he was too caught up in the way his soul was resonating and burning within him. “I appreciate it actually. Would you like me to play a song for you?”

“Would you? I’d love to hear more!”

Buggy

Buggy never believed in things like soulmates or fairy tales or blah blah blah- it was all junk! The only thing he ever could trust was treasure- shiny, bright, treasure! What else did a pirate need or want?

Is what he would say out loud- Buggy, even at a young age, was secretly a romantic who refused to let himself be swept up in the sentiment. When him and Shanks would sail together on Roger’s ship, Shanks would often ask what he thought about love.

Unlike Buggy, Shanks was pretty honest and confident about his assertions. Buggy would stumble and try to keep the bravado up, pretending as if he didn’t secretly yearn for a person who could look past his red nose and maybe possibly sorta kinda like him? Was that too much to ask? If you were Buggy, the answer was yes, because he would never allow himself the chance to be soft or vulnerable with someone. Especially not when he was already so sensitive about his looks and attitude. The thought of letting his guard down to be loved terrified him- what if they left? What if they made fun of him, too?

It was just too much for his fragile ego, so he brushed it aside and continued his hunt for treasure.

“Now where the hell am I?” He yelled, tilting the map in his hand left and right, as if that would somehow make his destination clearer. “Kinda crappy treasure map is this?”

He glared and shoved the map back in his pocket as he stomped around this town. He hadn’t ever bothered to come to this place before, so everything was new for him. He glared at the kids who were pointing at his nose to scare them off (mission accomplished), but his foul attitude still didn’t lessen.

As Buggy turned a corner, he accidentally rammed into someone. They shrieked, and his hat fell off his face and covered his eyes.

“Watch it, will ya? I’m walkin’ he…” he pushed his hat back up and came face to face with perhaps the most gorgeous person he’s ever met. His mouth was wide open, gawking at you as you gave an apologetic smile.

“Sorry. I didn’t see you there,” you said sheepishly.

“Y-yeah it’s… it’s cool. No biggie,” he mumbled in a daze.

“Are you alright?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” he returned to normal. “I mean, yeah, totally.”

You chuckle at his behavior, and something within Buggy’s chest makes it feel like there’s a million butterflies flapping inside his ribcage. He can’t help the dumb grin on his face as he laughs along.

“Sorry again, sir. I’ll keep an eye out for you next time,” you wink and begin walking away, making Buggy flabbergasted. N-next time? Was that a promise? He didn’t even realize what he was thinking before he turned around and tried to jog back to you.

“H-hey, wait up-!”

Beckman

Beckman was fairly ambivalent to the idea of a “soulmate” or “affinity”. Sure, he humored his often childish captain with those notions, but the fact was, Beckman was simply a sailor at heart. He didn’t think being “stuck” to someone was the life he wanted, and he was fairly sure a sane, rational person would not want to be the lover of a first mate to perhaps one of the most infamous pirate crews on the sea.

Now, this would imply you were sane and rational, and this would also imply that he was also not a sucker for you. Perhaps that was what made him attracted to you in the first place, or maybe it was something that gave him the idea that his captain wasn’t so off base.

When it came to you, Beckman was eager, a bit too eager, the others would joke. Whenever you called, he came running and answering like a loyal servant. Whenever you wrote, his lips would form a large smile while he refused to let the others look at the letter you sent. Whenever he was away from you for long periods of time, he drank a bit too much.

It was common place enough for the others to notice and tease him about, even if Beckman was adamant there was nothing there. You guys were just… friends, or something ambiguous like that. You didn’t need a label for your relationship. This was completely normal, you were normal, he was normal- nothing was out of the ordinary, so if they would please stop asking and make him confront those pesky feelings he-

Maybe he had a problem. He never felt this way for anyone else he encountered. You knew of his philandering, not seeming to care all that much, but damn it, even he couldn’t continue that streak because his mind would get occupied with you, you, you. Love was too complicated. Maybe this was the alcohol talking. Or Shanks getting in his head about “souls being attuned” or whatever spiritual jazz the red-haired captain would spout.

No, it really made sense, all things considered. There was no one else but you to make him quit fooling around with others on the islands he stopped at. There was no one else but you who invaded his thoughts, who plagued him day and night with those eyes, that smile, the way you hated that red cologne he once bought and-

Oh dear god, he was deep into this, wasn’t he?

Crocodile

Love? Spirits? Souls? Soulmates?

Yeah right, add that to the list of stupid things weak poets say to make their miserable lives have some meaning. You could jump through a million hoops to try and blame encounters and relationships on things like “destiny” or “fate”. To a man like Crocodile, however, “destiny” was just something he could control. Whether through bribes of money or through making them submit with his fearsome powers, “destiny” was nothing but another means of his affluence.

Only those who were weak and had nothing could not control their lives.

Something like love was a crutch used by those who had nothing to pretend they did. What was love to power? What was love to wealth? To fame? To greatness?

Love was the longest-running scam that Crocodile almost could be impressed with, if not for the fact that the sentiment around love made him want to gag.

Except, now he was actively looking for jewelry to buy you, flowers to deliver to your doorstep, and outfits to clothe you in for when you visited him.

It was almost disgusting how Crocodile was eagerly awaiting for your next arrival, for when he could be able to see you on the street or at his casino so he could see that face he adored so much. Those eyes that made him want to melt, that voice that echoed in his head, that smile that made him want to have an image of you adorned on his wall so he could always see it.

Something, he could never place what it was, drew him to you. Something made you seem to stand out to him in ways that no other could. He was Crocodile- world famous business man and pirate- he had no shortage of people throwing themselves at him or fearing him. Only to you was he trying his luck attempting to woo you to give him that look he loved. Only for you was he making excuse after excuse to continue seeing you, lying over and over that he had a reason to use you, that it was just a part of some master plan.

He exhaled another puff of his cigar and rubbed his temples.

Gods, why was he acting this way? He was Crocodile. Not a lovesick teenage boy, not some lonely man, not some simpering-

“Sir, (Y/n) has arrived.” His ears perked up as he quickly slicked back his hair.

“Is that so? Send them up,” he orders, grabbing his expensive cologne to spray onto him again.

Zoro

Zoro had never heard of the idea of soulmates or anything like that. When one lives, breathes, and dies by the sword, something like “soulmates” is just comical. He doesn’t need love to become the best swordsman. He didn’t need love to teach him how to pick up a sword and kill another with it. That was, in fact, the complete opposite of love.

Survival of the fittest, he thought. Nothing more, nothing less. You kill for bounties, bounties that pay, pay that gives you a chance to eat food. Nothing more to it. He never did more than he needed to, never worked harder for anything outside of his sword training and hunting. What else did a swordsman need to live?

He was currently drinking his fill at a local tavern of some random village he washed out upon. He didn’t care to get names, not when he was always moving, always killing, always leaving. “Zoro” was a passing chance encounter few got to ever meet or understand. He was fine with that. A bounty hunter didn’t need attachments. A bounty hunter definitely didn’t need someone weighing him down.

At the tavern, a few rowdy pirates were acting up. Yelling obscenities, throwing food and liquor at one another, making rude gestures- nothing out of the ordinary for drunk pirates. Zoro had no business with them, so he ignored them, continuing to order pint after pint.

It wasn’t until he heard a crash that he looked up. You were angrily yelling at one of the pirates who threw a drink at you, and his mates were drawing their weapons. It was clear you were outnumbered, so you looked around the bar for anyone that would help.

Normally, Zoro wouldn’t bother, figuring you dug your own grave by messing with pirates like that. However, when he glanced to your eyes, he found himself… staring. Lost. Entranced?

He didn’t know why he felt like he should protect you, but he always had a good intuition when it came to these sorts of things. He sighed, placed his mug down, then stood up, drawing his swords from their sheathes.

“Zoro,” he stated. A rare thing for him to admit so casually to a normal person. The pirates heard his name and shriveled up in fear. Zoro didn’t pay them any mind, instead tapping his sword against his shoulder impatiently. “Need me to shut these guys up?”

Mihawk

If you had asked a young Mihawk about love, he would have most certainly called you a fool for daring to think of such illogical things instead of focusing on one’s own strength and potential. While he had heard of the sentiments about love and soulmates before, he didn’t place much value into it. Love was a distraction from the training he could have done. Love was a waste of time. Love was just for weak-minded people who let themselves be vulnerable or gentle with another. Love wasn’t for people like him.

Which was why he was now trying to instill the opposite into his foolhardy protege, Zoro. Yes, yes, unfortunately, Mihawk was proven wrong from his earlier ways of thinking, and ever since then, he’s been doing his best to be a good man for you.

“I didn’t think a guy like you would have a partner…” Zoro would mumble.

“Of course I would. Do I not look like a suitable husband?” Mihawk replied as he was sipping his wine. “A marriage is only an aspect of your training and power.”

“How does cooking dinner help you train?” Zoro raised a brow, not believing a word.

“If you cannot handle a routine for even the most mundane and domestic of tasks, you cannot expect to be disciplined enough to train. If you think something like making your love a cup of tea or folding laundry is too hard or not worthy enough, you are not worthy enough to hold a sword.”

Zoro nodded, impressed by Mihawk’s reasoning (or maybe impressed at how you somehow made the world’s greatest swordsman so whipped and happy to make you dinner).

“Well, when you put it like that,” Zoro scratched his cheek, looking back at his mentor to see him staring at you longingly from the window. You and Perona were outside picking some of the vegetables at the garden, an activity you insisted upon doing despite Mihawk’s protests. You and the young lady were joking and laughing about something Perona said, and Mihawk sighed.

“Something wrong?” Zoro asked, unsure what Mihawk was thinking with his stoic appearance.

“No, not at all,” Mihawk shook his head, taking another sip.

“Then why did you sigh like that?” Zoro questioned. A smirk grew on Mihawk’s lips as he chuckled, continuing to look at you. You… you who were so special, who had become the apple of his eye, his strength, his joy, his passion.

“Oh, you wouldn’t understand it right now, my student,” Mihawk closed his eyes. “Fate is… it’s simply a humorous thing.”

Corazon

He always was a sensitive soul, despite his outer appearance and harsh exterior. But even as a child, Law could tell something was up with Corazon.

“Why are you always looking at them?” Law grumpily asked, folding his arms and raising a brow at his benefactor.

“Hm? At who?” Corazon dumbly responded, cigarette in his lips.

“You know who I mean! Don’t act stupid!” Law shouted. Corazon chuckled and exhaled the smoke.

“Sorry, gotta be more specific.”

Of course, Corazon knew who Law was referring to. It wasn’t like Corazon had hidden his affection for you, but that was for another time. You were something special, something that Corazon yearned for but could never have. Not when Doflamingo’s influence was so large and looming over his life. But even if Corazon himself could not love you so freely, he always did like to tell the young boy stories. Of course, Law, being a jaded little boy, had never really given thought to such things like “soulmates” or “souls knowing each other”. That was stupid and impossible.

Corazon liked to believe, though. It comforted him. It made him feel happy that, hey, even if this life perhaps didn’t work out for him and you, at least he had known you before. At least he was able to see you again. At least he got you in his life for a moment, even if it would end in nothing but heartache and pain. At he least, for just a bit, he got to see that smile, those eyes, and feel your hands over his.

It made his life a little less hard, a little less dull. The romanticism that despite Doffy meddling in his life, Corazon still had a chance with you, was meant to know and be with you… well, that was plenty enough for him. It made him happier, too, knowing Law was perhaps a soul he was acquainted with before. It made him feel like he was always going to be guaranteed love and kindness with you and Law, even if the world was unkind to him.

Yes, this new family he had found was perhaps where he belonged the most. With you and Law by his side, there was nothing more he could ask for.

Shanks

“You’re obsessed.”

“Am not!” Shanks yelled childishly at Beckman, before turning back to face the island they were planning on docking at soon. The wide smile on his face made it clear he was beyond excited to be there, and the other men chuckled.

“Don’t tell me you’re planning on running off to see em?” Yassop asked, knowing the answer.

“Oh, stop bugging about it! It’s just a little reunion with (Y/n), not anything crazy,” Shanks waved off. He breathed into his palm and winced at the smell of his breath. “Crap, does anyone have any mouthwash?”

“I don’t think anything can get that stench out. If they hadn’t run away cuz of your smell before, I think you’re good now!”

“Haha, very funny guys. Besides, it’s just between friends. Nothing weird.”

Of course, that was a bit of a fib, but who doesn’t tell little white lies? Surely he’d be forgiven for saying that by whomever was possibly in charge of making this happen?

Shanks, even with his overwhelming power and influence, did believe in superstition. It would be foolish not to, especially in such a dangerous world that a pirate inhabits. Sure, some of them were old wive’s tales from scared-straight sailors, but he did find them having some merit. He didn’t like to discount the seemingly impossible, not when it made even the most outlandish things possible.

He believed it was fate he got to meet Buggy and be a part of Roger’s crew. He believed it fate he met little Luffy in Foosha Village. He also believed it was fate he saved you that day. Some things just “made sense” like that to Shanks. It certainly made his life more interesting while also giving him a chance to bother you as always.

“Oh, come on, you can’t really kick out your soulmate, can you?” Shanks would tease.

“Soulmate?” You laugh. “Is this your attempt at proposing to me?”

“Hey, if you’d like it to be, I can absolutely make it happen,” Shanks replied, an earnest look in his eyes. You smile at him- crap, how do you always manage to make him ache and miss you? It’s gotta be fate, because no way could anyone have his heart in tight vice like this.

“Well… if you’re insisting, Captain,” you begin, smirking at him. “Why not take me with you? As your soulmate.”

Shanks’s eyes widened and the look on his face was a mixture of bewilderment and excitement.

“You know I can always make room for you,” he answered, trying to steady himself.

“Good. Although, we could share a room.”

“You drive a hard bargain, dear,” he chugs his rum. “Cheers to us!”

Law

Since he was a young boy, Law always tried to remain by himself. You couldn’t really trust anyone in a world of piracy and violence like that. Corazon, of course, always recommended otherwise. He even shared stories about a place where souls all were together.

It didn’t sound plausible or even remotely make sense. How would you even know if your soul was supposedly affiliated with someone?

It had been years since those days and the loss of Corazon, and even though he tried his hardest not to, Law still kept those stories in his mind. They were pointless and silly, but they were something Corazon believed wholeheartedly, even saying it was a miracle he got to meet a young Law. In some ways, Law felt somewhat similarly.

Love wasn’t for someone like Law. Too damaged, too cold, too logical, too afraid to ever let that feeling grow. It was how he stayed and remained for his life, and how he was planning on operating for the rest of time.

Until you, quite literally, crashed into him.

Jeez, you had to be a pest. Or a virus. Or a parasite. Something like that, but gosh, you were contagious. When you smiled, he found himself wanting to smile back. When you talked, he found himself thinking over every word you spoke in great detail. Maybe he was overthinking things, maybe when you said you were happy to have met him that was just you being friendly. Or something.

Almost always his mind drifted to you, feeling a certain way for you that he didn’t feel with the others in his crew or from the Straw Hats. You were different.

Perfect? Maybe. Definitely too good for someone like him, he’d think. But even with that self-loathing and apprehension, he found himself being drawn to you like a magnet.

Cora, if this is what you meant before…

Damn it, now he was letting things like soulmates and affinity cloud his judgment. He was a grown man, not a young boy, he didn’t need those silly delusions and ideas growing in his head and making him think he had a chance with you.

“Tora-o!” Luffy called. “Come here!!”

“No,” Law grumbled.

“Law,” you asked right after. “Do you mind helping me with this?”

“...yes,” he replied, stoically walking up to you to see what your problem was. Luffy gawked and pouted from the side, while a few of the others chuckled at Law.

[cevans-is-classic]

18+ Only. Mommy issues/kink, submissive Homelander, sexual themes, language, drug use.

My Master Post

Homelander

First part: Selfish Boy

Second Part: Listen to me

@chocolate-floof for non sexual homelander fics

It takes four days before he feels his hands itching to touch you.

Four days since he’s felt your touch, smelled your hair, heard your voice. 

Four days of being surrounded by idiots or sycophants

Things are worse. 

No matter what step he takes everything crumbles before his eyes and he can only bullshit his way for so long.

He needs you more than ever before — maybe he should keep you here? 

Hide you in a place only he knows.

Somewhere no one else can touch you, where he has you ready day in and day out. 

He’s dreamed of being here, wrapped in your arms, floating in that wonderful place where he doesn’t exist. 

You were here — your voice being used to soothe others — while he was in a tailspin.

Sage betrayed him, A-Train dug out his tracker, and Ryan? He keeps that in the back of his mind, refusing to feel the heartache he carries. 

Ryan is his son, and he loves him. 

He should listen to him. 

“Well?” He snaps his head to the left. 

You leaned on your windowsill, arms crossed, the sun rings a circle of light in your hair. He can’t make his mouth work. You’re smiling at him, head cocked to the side with a fondness in your eyes. 

He wants to hurt you

 “What?”

You raise a brow. “Are you going to come in? Not to complain, but people will notice a superhero on my porch.” 

Oh. 

He straightens his back when you roll your eyes. The window closes with a suction noise — the screen sliding down. He watches until you disappear, then waits for the door to open. 

It does. 

He sees what you’re wearing and nearly begs to touch you. 

“Come on, Johnny.” 

Stepping over your threshold relaxes his shoulders and covers him in warmth and safety. Your house smells like warm flowers and lemon, faint, hanging in the air. 

Your arms are around him before he takes in the candles around the room. He’s watching the group of them burn, thickening the smell. Your arms startle him when you wrap around his neck, your toes tipping to bring your face close to him. Your nose nudges his ear, humming tunelessly. 

Homelander isn’t sure if he should touch you. 

He wants to. 

“It’s okay, Baby. I want you to hold me.” It tastes like chocolate on his tongue when he swallows it, the sweetness of it travels into his lungs. 

He sighs and pulls you in, his hands landing on your hips. He bumps his forehead against you until you notch your head back and smile up at him.

“Why did you come to me, hmm? What can I do for my good boy?”

He isn’t a fan of music. The mumbled lyrics about dying or useless love-drunk teenagers being drilled into people’s minds. It played too loud, danced too much, and talked about it. 

He doesn’t listen to music, but he listens to you.

Your voice rings in his ears. 

He sees the light behind his eyes, pink, soft, trickling down to his chest where it heats his heart. The soft murmurs a symphony in his head, he keeps listening as he lifts you into your arms and carries you to the guest room. 

Not your room. 

He doesn’t deserve your room. 

“Johnny,” he rests you on the bed, “Come here.” 

Stepping back, Homelander takes all of you in. Your leg stretches, sliding your feet along the sheets. Your arms stretch over your head the blue cropped shirt rising to show the barest hint of your chest. 

If he wanted to, he could reach in and rip your heart out. Hold it in his fists and squeeze as he watches you choke to death. 

It’d be easy. 

He’d be able to shove pieces of it into your mouth and down your throat while the light dies from your eyes. 

Homelander crawls towards you, sliding between Your legs touching your stomach with his nose and into the curve of your chest.

“John.” 

He whimpers.

“You came to me for a reason, Johnny. Mind sharing with the class?” 

He shakes his head but feels the lie in his core. 

He came to you to unwind, be free, and let someone else control him the way he deserves. His head hasn’t stopped spinning and the urge to wrap around himself until he’s a small little boy again aches in his chest. 

The Homelander needs nothing. 

He’s perfect.

You guide his head to rest on your chest, carding through his hair, fingers massaging his scalp. He whimpers into you nuzzling his nose along your collar trying to find comfort, find his safe place. 

“You need someone to care about you.” Your voices drizzle honey over his body, “My baby boy. You’re such a powerful hero saving people, smiling for cameras and controlling those around you. It gets tiring being what others expect of you, but even more so when you know nothing else, yes, baby?” 

It hurts him to hear those words. 

To hear someone telling him the truth.

“I need you.” His nose your chest seeking your nipple. 

You smack his cheek, “That special, you selfish boy. You don’t deserve it.”

John whimpers again, whining, whistling from his nose. 

He craves you.

“You know what you deserve?” He blinks up at you, feeling excitement stir in his chest. It drips arousal to his core, tingling his legs, and making his body shake. 

“What do I deserve, Mommy?” He sounds desperate.

You hum gliding your fingers down his nose, tracing his lips to trail along his neck and push his Adam’s Apple in. John choked for a fraction of a second, fear mingling with the burning in his stomach. 

He can’t choke to death.

They tried. 

Sucking the air from his lungs until he choked, but it never stopped,d there was always more. They were endless about it, how deep he can swim, how high he can fly. 

“What do you think, My Sweet Boy?.” You stopped pushing against his neck, moving your hand down his chest. He’s still wearing the suit. It gives him vertigo being in this place with you whispering in his ear making him into John not Homelander all by your hand trailing over his suit top. 

He watches you walk your fingers over the muscles in his suit. Embarrassment flames in his chest knowing that all the fucking suits. He’s flat, stomach rock hard but he can’t get visible abs. Only a tight stomach that tapers into sharp hip bones showing off his lean build. 

He hates himself. 

“A kiss?” He’d beg for your lips on his.

“I don’t think so.” A warm blanket drags across his skin, prickling goosebumps to life. His nipples tingle with the softest brush over them to make his hips jerk, mind going fuzzy. 

You aren’t touching beneath his suit. 

“I think you deserve to want more, to crave more, but not have it.” His skin turns icy. The warmth of your voice disappears. Freeze burns his skin a blanket of frost replaces the safe, home, warm feeling.

“But-”

“What was that?” You stop touching him. 

Losing your hands ghosting over him is excruciating.

You should touch him, kiss him, let him sink deep like he deserves because he’s the strongest superhero. 

The best superhero. 

He’s perfect and perfection deserves whatever perfection wants. 

“I want you.” 

“Do you?” Your nails are at his neck. John doesn’t feel the pain. He feels the dig into his skin, your words pouring ice into his veins. Every nerve is light up, burning, aching.

 He feels too hot and too cold all at once. 

Tears burn his eyes.

“Do you want me, or do you want to be in control? The more you hold back, the more you refuse to let me in the colder you’ll be. I can make you drop deeper than the ocean. You won’t know what’s good or what’s bad because selfish, naughty boys don’t deserve to feel good.” 

“I deserve nothing.” He cries, “Nothing.” John sobs, deep heavy sobs that rattle his chest. He cries into your collar, begging out loud for your forgiveness. 

John wants the warmth to come back. “Please.” He cries.

He wants the pain to stop, the reeling in his mind that takes him away from his floating place. All he wants is to fall into the silk wrap of your voice and let you hold him.

“That’s right, baby boy.” 

He takes a breath. 

The blanket returns.

“You deserve nothing but what I wish to give you. Everything else you take and take, but here in this room, in my arms, you only have what I want you to have.” Your fingers are back in his hair, stroking it back, pulling tight at the base. 

You come into view with the harsh tug of his scalp. “You’re beautiful.” 

His tears fall in fiery streaks down his cheeks. “I’m not - I don’t-”

You pop his cheek, “You deserve what I give you. If I say you’re beautiful, you do not argue with me, boy. Now say it.” 

He can’t see you past the pool of tears. “I’m,” His voice trembles, “I’m beautiful.” 

Another pop, “Louder.” 

He sobs, “I’m beautiful.” 

Another pop, harder, followed by a brush of your fingers, “Almost, baby, I want to believe you but I don’t.”

Shame boils his stomach the bile burning his throat.

He wants to make you happy. He wants to keep you happy and he can’t. When you’re not happy — he’s stuck in those ugly dark places inside himself. 

“I’m beautiful.” It comes out clear, strong, the voice of a real man and not the Vought-made man he is, “I’m beautiful.” 

“Yes, baby.” Silk over his skin, clouds rested beneath him, helping him float. “You are beautiful, my sweet boy. All of you.” The snap of his suit flap pricks the fog in his mind. He feels your hand slide in, pulling the other snaps. His suit becomes looser, falling from his frame, your nails dragging over his undershirt. 

“All wrapped up in this patriotic suit, like a gift. I like gifts, fun ones too, gifts that I can play with. Do you like gifts, Johnny?” He waits for you to undo his suit pants. Instead, you grab his hands, untangling them from your shirt. He follows you as you press your lips to his knuckles.

His cock throbs, stomach tightening. 

Your lips aren’t his to have.

He must earn every single one. 

You kiss the top of his head with a long, searing kiss.

John wants you to kiss him everywhere, over his ribs, licking his nipples until he shivers.

He wants them all.

If he gets nothing but your kiss, he’ll break apart from pleasure. 

“I want you to go change. I have your soft clothes in the closet. Be sure to brush your teeth and comb your hair.” 

“What-” 

“I want you to feel snug. I want to hold you until you fall asleep and I can’t do that in this, can I? You want me to take care of you, right?” 

With heavy legs, he steps up from the bed. The sheets rustle, then your hands drape over his shoulders, pulling the suit top off. The eagles make a dull thud when they hit the ground and the skin of Homelander sheds. You come up his chest from his ribs, hands sliding beneath his shirt to lift and lift until he pulls it over his head. 

You hum warm hands following the path of his spine. “Beautiful indeed.” 

He shivers, groin tightening again, cock kicking in his pants. 

Pleasure radiates from your words of appreciation. Your cooing sounds as your hands travel back up his ribs to his chest. You squeeze what little he has, praise him for being strong, and flick your thumbs over his nipples. 

His body shakes, and trembles, he’s worried his knees will give out when you kiss his shoulder and it blooms pure pleasure inside him.

“Take your pants off.” He undoes the snaps, letting your hands follow his when he pushes them down. 

“I should make you wear panties.” He moans, deep, dragging from his chest, and he wants it.

He wears the satin kind that wraps around his cock like a fucking hug.

You asked him once, kicked your legs when he dropped his pants and showed the silk blue panties. The black bow stretched from the curve of his cock and you’d cooed at him as he leaked. 

“Please.” 

You chuckle, “Go into the closet, baby, get your clothes, and come back out here.” 

He forgot to kick off once to fly. He rose higher than before but couldn’t straighten himself out and free-fell to the ground. Leaving you behind in your bed, if only to change clothes, feels scarier than falling to his death.

(He thought so at fourteen, at least)

He goes as told first to the adjoining bathroom to find his toothbrush and scrub his mouth raw. Afterwards, with mint stinging his tongue he steps into the closet flicking on the light as he steps inside. Instinct that takes him to the dresser on the left old wood, and broken handles. The shirts are in the second drawer and he pulls a soft green one from the confines followed by a pair of shorts that stop mid-thigh. 

You smile at him when he wears them, crooking your finger and beckoning him closer. 

You laid out on the bed again, a joint in your fingers the smoke rising from your lips in concentric rings. He follows them with his eyes as he steps closer, hitching his knee onto the bed. You open your legs, guiding him to slide between them, and lay back on your chest. 

The smoke smells that pungent weed smell he detests. 

Drugs only worked on him in copious amounts and what’s the point of that when a simple word from you is the greatest high he’s ever experienced?

“Mommy-” You take another drag, blowing it out then sucking in another. He hears your heart slowing down, feels your body relax under him, and knows happy snuggles are his to have. 

When the joint has burned to your fingers, you stubbed it on your nightstand, burning marks into the deep wood, “Come here, Sweet Boy.” Your leg drapes over his hip as the other settles to the side. One hand goes to his hair and the other rests on his back. “Rest. If you’re good, I’ll give you a surprise.” 

He closes his eyes with a smile.

[pretty-blkgirl]

Jinnie Day

//gn!reader x Hyunjin//

Synopsis: You and Hyunjin celebrate his birthday

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: none

A/N: It’s our Hyunjin’s birthday 🤗 I wanted to write something that was a little more affectionate and loving, since he deserves all the love, support, and happiness in the world 🫶🏾

~~~~|~~~~

“Hold still, almost done” You whisper, face full of concentration as you paint a second coat of nail polish onto your boyfriend’s nail.

Hyunjin, absolutely smitten by you, tried to hold in his chuckle as he watched you finish up. You immediately start to blow lightly on the nail.

The music in the background plays lowly -it’s a soft song, a love song- as you wait for the paint to dry.

Hyunjin asked you to do his nails for the small get-together you both are having for his birthday later. He asked you to paint them because he swears he always seems to mess up when he tries to do them on his own.

In reality, Hyunjin can do his nails just fine, but he knows how excited you get when he asks for your help. Your eyes lit up as you went to grab all your supplies.

“I still don’t know what I’m wearing tonight,” He says as you check the shiny, black paint on his nails, “Wanna help me pick an outfit?”

You nod without hesitation, immediately getting up and pulling your boyfriend with you

“What color you wanna wear?” You ask as you two walk to the bedroom. Hyunjin smiles brightly behind you as you drag him through the halls

“I don’t know, how about you pick?”

You waste no time heading for the closet when you two reach the room. He has a lot of clothes, some that he bought and others from his ambassadorship.

There are too many clothes to choose from, so you close your eyes and reach out for a shirt. Hyunjin breaks out into a fit of hysterics -which makes you giggle- it’s always been easy to make him laugh.

You end up with a light brown, silk shirt that you’ve never seen him wear before.

“Let’s do this shirt, you love brown.” You say, handing him the shirt and moving on to pants.

“I love you,” He says without missing a beat

You roll your eyes fondly and pick out some white pants

“I love you too Jinnie,” you say as you pass the clothes to him. He decided to throw the clothes on the bed and latch onto you, hugging you tightly as you let out a startled laugh.

“Affectionate today?” You ask, he hums softly and pulls his head back to look at you

“Aren’t I always affectionate?”

“Not like this, you’ve been on me all day today”

“Are you complaining?”

“Nope”

You two stay in a warm embrace for another 5 minutes before you convince Hyunjin to start getting ready.

As he’s in the shower, you run to your office and check on the gifts you got him, along with the other gifts some of the members asked you to hide for them.

You head back to the bedroom to grab your clothes and accessories, then you go to the guest bathroom to take a shower.

By the time you’re completely ready, Hyunjin has been dressed and lying on the bed to wait for you.

“You look handsome,” You say when you finally get a good look at him

“Thank you, baby, you look gorgeous as always”

Hyunjin gets up from the bed and decides to latch on to you once more. You always found it endearing every time he chose to hug you, even though he’s done it a minimum of 24 times already.

He usually has a sort of indifference towards his birthday, so him being so happy and loving makes you feel so good. You’d gladly take all the hugs, kisses, and fond looks he threw at you if it meant he’d enjoy his day to the fullest.

This hug lasted maybe two minutes before a loud knock was heard from the living room.

“It’s the boys” you whisper, making Hyunjin groan and hold you closer

“Can’t we just celebrate alone?” He asks, even though he begins to let you go

“Nope. They wanna celebrate you! Plus, Minho is cooking so-”

Hyunjin didn’t even let you finish before he dashed to the living room to open the door

You laugh again, hearing the immediate sounds of loud congratulatory words, teasing, and laughter from the members.

Hyunjin was surrounded by so much love and support, and that made you the happiest person alive.

When you get to the living room, he pulls you by his side as the members start to greet you

He whispers another “I love you” into your ear

You, completely flustered, whisper it back, adding in a jovial “Happy Birthday”

[whereforarthur]

Piano Nights

Request: y/n is a big pop star and her and arthur meet at a musician after party or something. he’s not really supposed to be there but he sneaks in and she spots him. she ends up finding him attractive and confidently pursues him, they sleep together and end up dating. he can’t believe his luck and neither can george, arthur chris and he’s so in awe of her and just massive simp

Pairing: Arthur Hill x Musician!Reader

Category: Fluff and Soft Smut

Word Count: 7k

*****

When a man loves a woman, can't keep his mind on nothin' else. - Michael Bolton

"You're not even on the list, mate," the bouncer said, eyeing Arthur Hill suspiciously. His hand hovered over the velvet rope, blocking Arthur's path to the glittering promise of the musician's after-party.

Arthur took a deep breath, his heart racing. He had been invited by a friend of a friend, and the prospect of meeting y/n, the pop sensation who had captured his heart with her soulful melodies, had driven him to crash the event. He straightened his hat and offered a charming smile. "Ah, I must've been missed. I'm with the band," he said with a wink, hoping his British charm would win the bouncer over.

To his surprise, the bouncer's gaze softened, and with a chuckle, he lifted the rope. "Alright, you sneaky bugger," he said, letting Arthur through. "Just don't cause any trouble, yeah?"

Arthur stepped into the bustling venue, a swirl of lights and music and laughter. He scanned the crowded room, searching for the unmistakable glow of y/n's presence. The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and the faint aroma of the catered food wafting from a nearby table. His heart pounded in his chest as he weaved through groups of glammed-up socialites and industry moguls, each step bringing him closer to the woman he had only ever dreamed of meeting.

Y/n, perched on a velvet couch, sipped her champagne and laughed at a joke she couldn't quite hear over the din. Her eyes, framed by dark lashes, flicked up to meet Arthur's as he approached. A spark of curiosity ignited in her gaze, and she took him in—his mustache, the mischievous tilt of his hat, the nervous excitement that danced in his eyes. He was not the typical guest at these functions, and she found that intriguing. He was a breath of fresh air in a room that often felt suffocatingly rehearsed.

As Arthur's heart hammered against his ribcage, he felt the weight of Y/n's stare. He tried to play it cool, nodding at a few familiar faces and pretending to be in his element. But he couldn't help the flush that crept up his neck when she beckoned him over with a single, graceful gesture of her hand. The crowd parted for her like the Red Sea for Moses, and he walked through it, feeling like the most visible man in the room.

Y/n's eyes never left his as he approached. She took a sip of her champagne, her red lips curling into a knowing smile. Arthur felt his knees wobble slightly, his thoughts racing. He hadn't prepared for this. What was he supposed to say to her? What would she think of him? But then he saw the same spark in her gaze that had drawn him in—curiosity mixed with a hint of amusement. He realized she found him intriguing, and that gave him the courage to keep going.

When he reached her, she leaned in, her voice a seductive whisper that cut through the noise. "You don't look like you're with the band," she said, her eyes twinkling. "What's your secret?"

Arthur swallowed hard, his mind racing. "I, uh, I'm a… a big fan," he stammered. "Of your music. And I’m a musician as well."

Y/n's smile grew wider. "Oh, really?" she said, arching an eyebrow. "And what's your name?"

"Arthur," he managed to say, his voice a little too loud. "Arthur Hill. I'm, uh, a YouTuber. I do music and stuff."

Her eyes lit up with recognition. "Ah, Arthur Hill," she said, placing a hand on his arm. "I've heard of you. You're quite the charmer on camera."

Her touch sent a jolt through his body, and he felt his confidence surge. "Is that so?" he replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

Y/n leaned closer, her eyes never leaving his. "Mmhmm," she murmured, her breath warm against his ear. "I think we should get to know each other better."

Without waiting for a response, she took Arthur's hand and led him through the crowd, her confidence a magnetic force that drew him along. They found a quiet corner of the room, the pulse of the party still thrumming around them but muted enough for conversation. She turned to face him, her grip firm, and searched his eyes for something—approval, perhaps, or maybe just the promise of a good time.

"So, Arthur Hill," she said, her voice low and intimate. "What brings you to my party?"

He took a deep breath, trying to keep his cool. "I…uh, I was invited," he lied, hoping she wouldn't see through his ruse.

Y/n's laugh was like music, a sweet melody that danced in the air between them. "Sneaky," she said, her eyes gleaming with amusement. "I like that."

Her hand was still in his, and Arthur felt the warmth of her touch spread through his body. She was so close, her perfume a delicate whisper of jasmine and vanilla. He knew he should let go, knew he should play it cool, but he couldn't resist the pull of her. She was unlike anyone he had ever met, a force of nature that drew him in like gravity.

Y/n's eyes searched his, looking for something. He wasn't sure what, but he hoped he had it. "You know," she said, her voice a soft caress, "I've always had a soft spot for musicians who dare to do things differently."

Her hand slid up his arm, and Arthur felt his heart race. He had watched her music videos countless times, imagined this moment in his wildest dreams, but he never thought it would happen. The fact that he was attractive and British didn't hurt, but it was his audacity, his willingness to sneak into her world, that had truly captured her interest.

"So, Arthur," she began, her voice a sultry purr that made his knees feel like jelly, "are you single?"

Arthur's heart skipped a beat. He had imagined this moment a hundred times, but now that it was here, he found himself at a loss for words. "Yeah," he finally managed to croak out, his voice barely above a whisper. "I am."

Y/n's smile grew wider, and she leaned in even closer, her breath warm and sweet. "Good," she said, her eyes locked on his. "Because I think we could write some beautiful music together."

Arthur felt his cheeks burn, his heart racing faster than a drum solo. He couldn't believe this was happening—that she was interested in him. But here she was, standing in front of him, her hand still in his, suggesting that they could be more than just two people at the same party.

"I'd love that," he said, his voice a little shaky. He took a step closer, the electricity between them growing stronger. "I mean, I write songs, and you… well, you make music that touches people's souls. Imagine what we could create together."

*****

Y/n's eyes searched his, and Arthur could see the wheels turning in her mind. She was considering the possibility, and it was exhilarating. "Why don't we start right now?" she suggested, her grip on his hand tightening slightly. "Let's find a quiet spot and see what happens."

They slipped away from the party, leaving the noise and the glitz behind them. They found a small, dimly lit room, the only sound the distant throb of the bass from the dance floor. Y/n sat on the edge of a plush chair, her legs crossed, and patted the space next to her. "Play something for me," she said, her voice low and inviting.

Arthur felt a jolt of excitement. He hadn't brought his guitar, but there was a piano in the corner, gleaming under a soft spotlight. He took a seat on the bench, his heart racing. His fingers hovered over the keys for a moment before he began to play. The melody was soft, haunting—a song he had written but never shared with anyone. Y/n leaned in, listening intently, her eyes never leaving his face.

The music filled the space, wrapping around them like a warm embrace. The tension grew, each note building upon the last, until it was almost unbearable. Arthur felt like he was baring his soul to her, and she seemed to understand, her eyes never leaving his. When he finished, the silence was deafening.

Y/n leaned back, her eyes wide with awe. "That was… incredible," she breathed. "I had no idea you had such a gift."

Arthur felt a blush spread across his cheeks. "Thanks," he said, looking away from her piercing gaze. "It's just something I do."

Y/n reached over and placed her hand on his, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Don't be so modest," she said, her eyes gleaming. "I can tell that music is your soul, Arthur Hill."

Her touch sent a shiver down his spine, and he found himself leaning closer to her, drawn in by her beauty and her passion for music. He could see the desire in her eyes, and it mirrored his own. "Maybe we could write something together," he suggested, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/n's smile grew, and she leaned in, her breath warm against his cheek. "I'd like that," she murmured.

Arthur felt his heart race as she tilted her head, her eyes closing. He knew this was a moment he would never forget, a moment that would change everything. He leaned in, closing the distance between them, and their lips met in a soft, tentative kiss. It was a promise, a question, and an answer all rolled into one.

The kiss grew deeper, more urgent, as if they were trying to express everything they felt in that single moment. Her hand slid up his arm to his shoulder, pulling him closer, and he felt the world fall away. All that mattered was the warmth of her body against his, the taste of her, the sound of their mingled breaths.

Y/n's legs slipped over Arthur's, and she straddled his lap, her dress riding up slightly to reveal the smooth skin of her thighs. He felt the heat of her, the softness of her, and his hands found their way to her hips, holding her tightly as the kiss grew more intense. The music from the party was a distant memory, replaced by the rhythm of their hearts beating in time.

Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, as their kiss grew deeper, more demanding. Arthur could feel the world around them fading away, until all that was left was the two of them, lost in each other. The scent of her perfume filled his senses, and he knew he was falling hard.

Their bodies moved in sync, as if they had danced together a thousand times before. His hands roamed over her curves, feeling the heat of her skin through the thin fabric of her dress. Y/n's breath hitched as Arthur's thumb brushed the sensitive skin of her neck, sending a shiver down her spine.

With a soft moan, she broke the kiss, her eyes searching his for a sign that this was real. Arthur's pupils were dilated with desire, his cheeks flushed, and she knew he felt it too. "We should get out of here," she whispered, her voice thick with longing.

His heart was racing faster than the bass from the party outside. He nodded, unable to find the words to express the tumult of emotions coursing through him. He had never felt like this before, and the thought of being with Y/n, of sharing something so intimate, was both terrifying and exhilarating.

In his mind, Arthur replayed every moment leading up to this, his heart pounding in his chest. The way she had looked at him, the touch of her hand, the sound of her laugh—it was all so surreal. He couldn't believe that he, a mere YouTuber, had caught the eye of a pop goddess. But here she was, in his arms, and it was all too real.

The reality of the situation washed over him, sending a thrill through his veins. Y/n, the woman whose voice had soothed his loneliest nights and inspired his wildest dreams, was here with him now, her body pressed against his. It was more than he could have ever hoped for, more than he felt he deserved.

They stumbled out of the party, the cool London night air a stark contrast to the heat of their passion. Arthur's heart was racing, his thoughts a jumbled mess of excitement and nerves. He had never felt so alive, so seen. Y/n's hand was in his, her grip tight and reassuring, leading him to her nearby hotel suite.

The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of city lights filtering through the windows. She led him to the king-sized bed, her eyes never leaving his. Arthur felt like he was in a trance, unable to resist the pull of this moment. As they kissed again, he felt the weight of the world lift from his shoulders.

Y/n's thoughts swirled in a delicious cocktail of surprise and desire. Who was this man with the cheeky grin and the haunting melodies? He had crashed her party, and now he was crashing into her heart. She had been surrounded by the same faces, the same shallow flattery for so long, and here was someone real, someone who made her feel alive.

Her body hummed with anticipation as she felt Arthur's hands on her hips, his touch sending shivers down her spine. The way he looked at her, with those earnest eyes and that hopeful smile, made her feel seen in a way she hadn't in years. The music industry was a minefield of egos and ambition, and yet here was a man who seemed to genuinely appreciate her for who she was, not just for the image she had so carefully cultivated.

Their kisses grew more urgent, their breaths mingling in the quiet of the room. The only sound was the distant wail of a siren outside, a stark reminder of the world they had left behind. Y/n felt a thrill of rebellion, a rush of adrenaline as she gave herself over to the moment. She had never done anything like this before, never let someone in so quickly, but with Arthur, it just felt…right.

Her dress slipped off her shoulders, revealing the lacy lingerie beneath. Arthur's eyes widened, taking in the sight of her. He had seen her in music videos, dressed in glamorous outfits that left little to the imagination, but the reality was so much more intoxicating. She was real, flesh and blood, and she was here with him. He gently traced the line of her collarbone with his thumb, feeling the rapid pulse of her heartbeat under his fingertips.

Y/n's eyes searched Arthur's, looking for any sign of hesitation, but all she saw was desire, raw and unfiltered. She reached behind her, unclipping her bra with a swift motion. It fell to the floor, and she shrugged out of her dress, leaving her in nothing but the lace that barely contained her. Arthur's breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight of her, her curves bathed in the soft light.

He had seen her in music videos, dressed in outfits that left little to the imagination, but the reality was so much more. She was real, standing before him in all her beauty, and it was overwhelming. He reached out, his fingertips grazing the soft skin of her stomach, and felt her shiver. The room was thick with tension, the air crackling with the electricity of their attraction.

*****

Arthur's mind raced with the gravity of the situation. This was Y/n, the woman whose music had been the soundtrack to his life, whose videos he had watched countless times, and whose posters had adorned his walls. But she was also a person, a woman with desires and fears just like him. He didn't want to be just another notch on her bedpost, a fleeting fling for the tabloids to gossip about. He wanted this to mean something.

As she stood before him, half-dressed and breathtakingly beautiful, Arthur felt his heart pound in his chest. He had to remind himself to breathe, his body responding to her in a way that was both exhilarating and terrifying. He reached out, his hands trembling slightly as they found her waist, and he pulled her closer. He could feel the heat of her skin, the softness of her body, and it was like nothing he had ever experienced before.

"You're…you're so beautiful," he murmured, the words slipping out before he could stop them. It was the most inadequate thing he could have said, but it was all he could manage. Y/n's smile grew, and she leaned into him, her breasts pressing against his chest. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice a sweet symphony in his ears.

Her hands found the buttons of his shirt, and she began to undo them with a deftness that belied her excitement. Each button released with a soft click, revealing more of the tanned skin beneath. Arthur felt himself getting lost in the moment, the sensation of her touch like a melody he hadn't yet written. He had never been with someone so…so everything.

Their kisses grew more urgent, more passionate, as they tumbled onto the bed. The soft fabric of the comforter whispered against their skin as they explored each other with eager hands. Y/n's legs wrapped around his waist, her hips moving in a slow, sensual rhythm that made his blood sing. He kissed along her jaw, her neck, feeling the pulse of her heartbeat as it matched the tempo of his own.

Her hands roamed over his chest, tracing the lines of his muscles and the ink of his tattoos. She gasped as he found her most sensitive spots, her breath catching in her throat. Arthur felt a surge of pride, knowing that he could make her feel this way, that he could bring this goddess of music to her knees with just his touch.

He kissed her neck, feeling the pulse of her heartbeat against his lips. His hands moved to the clasp of her lingerie, fumbling slightly in his haste. Y/n giggled, her breath warm against his ear. "Let me," she murmured, taking over and sliding the fabric down her body.

The sight of her, bare and uninhibited, was more than Arthur could handle. He had to force himself to breathe, to not lose himself entirely to the moment. He leaned back, watching as she revealed herself to him, and he felt something shift inside him—a sense of awe and wonder that she would share this with him.

Y/n's eyes never left his, her gaze filled with a fiery need that mirrored his own. She reached out, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw, and pulled him back down to her. Their kisses grew deeper, more urgent, as their bodies melded together, a symphony of skin and passion.

Arthur felt his world spin as he kissed her, his hands exploring the soft curves of her body. He had dreamed of this, but the reality was so much more potent than any fantasy. He liked what he saw—no, he liked wasn't a strong enough word. He adored, he worshipped, he craved. The sight of her was like nothing he had ever seen before, a masterpiece that defied description.

Y/n's hands found their way to the buckle of his belt, her movements swift and sure. The sound of the leather loosening was like a gunshot in the quiet room, sending a jolt of excitement through him. He watched, transfixed, as she pulled his trousers down, revealing his boxers. He was already hard, the fabric straining against his erection. She looked up at him with a knowing smile, her eyes dark with desire.

Arthur felt his heart hammering in his chest as she reached for him, her hand wrapping around his length. The sensation was electric, sending waves of pleasure through his body. He groaned, his eyes closing, as she began to stroke him. It was all he could do to keep from bucking his hips into her touch, to keep from losing control entirely.

"Do you have a condom?" she whispered, her voice a seductive murmur that sent a shiver down his spine.

Arthur nodded, his hand shaking slightly as he reached for his pocket. He had never been so grateful for his 'just in case' habit. He handed it to her, his eyes never leaving hers as she deftly tore the foil packet with her teeth and slid it onto him. The heat of her hand was almost too much to bear.

With a final, lingering kiss, she positioned herself over him, her eyes holding his in a silent question. He nodded, unable to find the words to express his readiness. She sank down, inch by inch, until he was fully inside her. The sensation was unlike anything he had ever felt—tight, warm, and all-consuming. They both gasped, the intimacy of the moment resonating between them.

Their bodies moved in sync, a dance they had somehow known the steps to from the moment their eyes had met. Arthur watched her, the way her eyes fluttered closed and her mouth parted in silent ecstasy, and he felt like the luckiest man alive. This was Y/n, the woman whose voice had gotten him through the darkest of days, and she was here, with him, sharing this incredible moment.

Her hips rocked against his, setting a rhythm that was as natural as breathing. It was like they were creating a new kind of music, a symphony of skin and passion that resonated through the very air around them. Arthur matched her pace, his hands gripping her hips tightly as he felt himself getting closer to the edge.

Their movements grew more frenzied, their breaths coming in gasps and moans. The world outside the hotel suite didn't exist—it was just the two of them, lost in the crescendo of their desire. He could feel her tightening around him, her nails digging into his shoulders as she approached her peak. He didn't want this moment to end, didn't want the music to stop playing.

But as the tension grew, as the crescendo neared, Arthur felt himself losing control. He thrust into her with a primal urgency, his hips moving in a desperate rhythm. Y/n's head fell back, her hair a dark waterfall on the pillow, and she cried out, her voice echoing through the room. The sound was like a siren's call, pushing him over the edge.

With a final, guttural groan, Arthur climaxed, his body shuddering with the force of his release. He felt Y/n's muscles clench around him, her own orgasm following swiftly after. They remained there, entwined, for a long moment, their breaths mingling in the quiet that had descended. The city outside seemed to hold its breath, waiting for their next move.

They lay there, their hearts pounding in their chests, the only sound the distant wail of a siren. Y/n leaned her forehead against Arthur's, her eyes closed. He could feel the dampness of her skin, the stickiness of their combined sweat. It was a raw, intimate moment, one that was both terrifying and exhilarating in its vulnerability.

"Wow," she whispered, the word a soft sigh that seemed to hold all the wonder of the universe.

Arthur lay beneath her, his chest heaving with the exertion of their passion. "Yeah," he managed, his voice hoarse. "Wow."

Y/n giggled, the sound like a melody that danced through the silence. She rolled off him, her body still humming with the aftershocks of pleasure. She pulled the comforter over them, her head resting on his chest. "That was…unexpected," she said, her voice still a little shaky.

Arthur chuckled, his arms wrapping around her. "Yeah," he agreed, his heart still racing. "I've never done anything like this before."

Y/n looked up at him, her eyes searching his. "Neither have I," she admitted, a hint of surprise in her voice. "But it felt…right."

Arthur's heart swelled with something that felt a lot like hope. "It did," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "It really did."

They lay there for a while, their bodies cooling, the silence between them a sweet symphony of satisfaction. Y/n traced patterns on his chest with her fingertips, her touch feather-light. Arthur could feel himself drifting, his mind racing with the possibilities of what this could mean. A relationship with a pop star? It was more than he had ever dared to dream of.

But as the afterglow began to fade, so did the silence. Y/n sat up, the comforter falling away to reveal the curve of her spine, and Arthur felt his heart clench. What now? Would she kick him out, say it was a mistake? He watched her, his eyes tracing the lines of her body, the way the light played across her skin.

"You know," she said, turning to face him, "I don't do this sort of thing."

Arthur nodded, his heart racing. "Neither do I," he admitted, the reality of their impulsive tryst setting in. The weight of her gaze was almost too much to bear.

Y/n reached out, her hand cupping his cheek. "But I liked it," she whispered, her thumb tracing the line of his jaw. "I liked it a lot."

Arthur felt a wave of relief wash over him, his anxiety giving way to a warmth that spread through his chest. "Me too," he murmured, his eyes searching hers. "I never thought…"

"That you'd end up in bed with me?" Y/n finished his sentence, a playful smile on her lips. She leaned in, her breasts brushing against his chest, and kissed him softly. "Neither did I," she whispered against his mouth. "But here we are."

Arthur felt his heart swell. The gravity of what had just happened between them was not lost on him. "What now?" he asked, his voice barely audible.

Y/n's smile was mysterious, her eyes holding his with an intensity that made his pulse quicken. "Now," she said, "we see where this takes us."

The words hung in the air, filled with both promise and uncertainty. Arthur felt a mix of excitement and fear—excitement at the thought of a future with her, fear that it could all be a fleeting moment. But as she leaned in to kiss him again, all he could do was revel in the present. Her soft, full lips against his, the scent of her perfume, the feel of her bare skin—it was a symphony of sensation that he never wanted to end.

The days that followed were a whirlwind of secret dates and stolen kisses. Y/n took him to her favorite London haunts, places that were off the beaten path and far from the prying eyes of paparazzi. They talked about music, their shared passion, and Arthur felt like he was getting to know the real her, not the persona she presented to the world. He played her his latest compositions, and she listened intently, offering feedback that was both insightful and encouraging.

Their relationship grew in intensity and depth, each moment together a treasure that Arthur held close to his heart. They had an unspoken understanding that their romance was to remain private, a secret shared between just the two of them. It added an illicit thrill to their encounters, making every touch, every whispered word feel like a stolen moment of pure bliss.

Y/n introduced Arthur to a world of glamour and excitement that he had only ever dreamed of. Red carpets, flashing cameras, and A-list parties became their playground, but it was the quiet moments in between that Arthur cherished the most. They would escape the chaos, finding refuge in her luxurious hotel suite or his small flat, sharing takeout and laughter as if they were any other couple.

He still couldn't believe his luck. Every time she texted him, every secret smile she sent his way across a crowded room, it was like winning the lottery. The idea that she, a woman who could have anyone, had chosen him was mind-boggling. Yet, she was there, in his arms, her head on his chest, her breathing steady as she slept. The way she looked at him, the way she touched him, it was all so real, so tangible.

They had agreed to keep their relationship under wraps for the time being. It was a thrill, sneaking around like teenagers, dodging paparazzi and hiding from her entourage. But Arthur knew it wasn't sustainable. The pressure of keeping his feelings bottled up was immense, especially when he wanted to shout from the rooftops that he was with Y/n. The high of their secret love was addictive, but the fear of losing her to the spotlight was a constant ache.

He found himself doing things he never thought he would for a girl—running errands for her, writing her sweet nothings in the middle of the night, even rearranging his entire schedule to fit hers. He was a massive simp for her, and he didn't care. Her smile was his sun, her voice his moon, and he would do anything to keep her happy. He'd never felt this way about anyone before, and it was both terrifying and exhilarating.

Whenever she was around, Arthur felt like he could conquer the world. He'd drop everything for her, and it was as if he'd been living in black and white until she added color to his life. Her laughter was like a melody that played on repeat in his mind, bringing him joy even when she wasn't around. The way she looked at him, with those piercing eyes that seemed to see straight into his soul, made him feel like the most important person in the room.

*****

He had to tell someone about her, so he gathered his closest mates—George, Chris, and Arthurtv—at the local pub. They were all ears, expecting another one of Arthur's wild party stories, but instead, he shared the most incredible tale of all. He talked about her beauty, her kindness, her talent, and the way she made him feel. As the words spilled out, he couldn't help but notice the disbelief etched on their faces. They were used to his grandiose storytelling, but this was different—this was real.

"You're telling me you're dating y/n?" George said, his pint halfway to his mouth, frozen in place. "The y/n?"

"Yeah, the one and only," Arthur replied, his cheeks flushing with a mix of pride and nerves. Chris and Arthurtv stared at him in disbelief, their eyes wide.

"Bloody hell, mate," Chris said, finally finding his voice. "How did you pull that off?"

Arthur chuckled, feeling a warmth spread through his chest at the memory of their first night together. "It just sort of…happened," he said, playing it cool. "We clicked, you know?"

George set his pint down with a thud. "You don't just click with y/n, Arthur," he said, his tone a mix of awe and skepticism. "You've got to be shitting me."

"I'm not," Arthur said, his grin widening. "It's true. She's…she's amazing."

Chris leaned in, his curiosity piqued. "What's she like? In bed, I mean."

Arthur felt his face heat up, but before he could respond, Arthurtv slapped him on the back. "Mate, you can't tell us that!"

"What, you think I'm not man enough?" Arthur teased, trying to deflect the attention. But inside, he was bursting with the need to share every intimate detail of their time together.

"No, it's not that," Arthurtv said, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "It's just…she's y/n. You can't just casually drop that you've slept with her and expect us not to want the details."

Arthur rolled his eyes, but the truth was, he was dying to share. He'd never felt this way about anyone before—like he'd found his muse, his soulmate, all rolled into one. He took a deep breath and leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Let's just say it's beyond anything I've ever experienced," he said, a smug smile playing on his lips.

Chris and George exchanged a look that was equal parts envy and incredulity. Arthurtv just shook his head, grinning. "Mate, you're living the dream," he said, his voice filled with a mix of admiration and disbelief. "What's next? Marriage?"

Arthur's cheeks burned even hotter at the teasing. "Hold your horses," he said, raising his hands in a placating gesture. "It's still early days, but…" He trailed off, the smile on his face speaking volumes.

"But what?" George prompted, leaning in.

Arthur took a sip of his beer, his thoughts racing. "But it feels…right," he admitted, his voice barely audible over the pub's din. "I know it's fast, but I can't help it."

His friends exchanged glances, their disbelief slowly morphing into something like respect. "You've always had a way with words, Arthur," George said, his tone a mix of amazement and admiration. "But I never thought you'd charm your way into the heart of a pop star."

Chris raised his glass in a toast. "Here's to the most unexpected love story of the century," he said, his eyes gleaming with mirth.

Arthur's cheeks burned even brighter, but he couldn't help the grin that split his face. "Cheers to that," he said, clinking his glass against theirs. The bubble of happiness inside him was threatening to burst, and he felt like he was floating on air.

*****

The next week, the four of them found themselves backstage at one of y/n's concerts. The energy was electric, the air thick with the scent of hairspray and sweat. The roar of the crowd was a constant backdrop as they waited for her to emerge from her dressing room. Arthur's heart was racing, his palms slick with sweat. He'd been with her so many times now, but introducing her to his mates was a whole different ballgame.

When the door finally swung open, she stepped out, a vision in a sparkling ensemble that left little to the imagination. Her hair was a waterfall of glossy waves, and her makeup was flawless. The boys stared, their jaws dropping to the floor. George and Chris looked like they'd seen a ghost, and even Arthurtv, the most unflappable of the bunch, had a look of awe on his face.

"Guys, this is Y/n," Arthur said, his voice a mix of pride and nerves.

Y/n stepped forward, her smile bright and her eyes sparkling. "Hi," she said, her voice a soft melody that seemed to wrap around each of them.

"Hi," George managed, his voice barely above a squeak. Chris just nodded, his eyes glued to her like a teenager at their first concert.

Y/n laughed, the sound like a bell in the tension-filled room. She moved closer, her hand extended. "Nice to meet you all," she said, her smile genuine. "Arthur's told me so much about you."

The tension eased as they each took her hand, her grip firm and warm. They chatted awkwardly for a few moments, Arthur's heart in his throat as he watched his worlds collide. The reality of her standing there, a pop star in their midst, was still so surreal.

"You're even more beautiful in person," Arthurtv finally managed, his cheeks reddening.

Y/n winked at Arthur. "I've heard that before," she teased, her voice a seductive purr.

The guys chuckled, the ice broken by her charm. They talked about music, their shared love for the industry, and their own experiences. Y/n was surprisingly down-to-earth, asking about their own projects and dreams. Arthur watched her, his heart swelling with affection. She had a way of making everyone feel special, and it was clear she enjoyed their company.

"So, how did you win her over?" George finally asked, nudging Arthur playfully.

Arthur's mind raced back to that fateful night at the party, the moment he saw her across the crowded room. "It was like we were the only two people there," he began, his voice filled with wonder. "We talked about music, and I played her some of my stuff. She actually liked it." He paused, a blush creeping up his neck. "And then we just…clicked."

Y/n's eyes sparkled with mirth. "He's being modest," she said, her voice a playful purr. "He's incredibly talented, and he's got this charm that's impossible to resist." She stepped closer to him, looping her arm through his. "Plus, he's got this adorable accent."

The boys chuckled, and Arthur felt his cheeks heat up. He had never felt so exposed, so vulnerable. But with her by his side, he was invincible. "It's true," he said, his voice a low rumble. "It was all the Queen's English."

Y/n leaned into him, her breath warm against his neck. "You know what else is true?" she whispered, her voice a seductive murmur. "I can't wait to get you alone again."

Arthur felt his blood race at her words, the anticipation of their next encounter sending a thrill through his body. He glanced at his friends, who were trying and failing to look anywhere but at the two of them. "I think we should get going," he said, his voice strained. "Don't want to keep the fans waiting."

Y/n's smile was knowing, a secret shared only between them. "Of course," she said, her eyes never leaving his. "I'll see you after the show."

With a final wave, she disappeared back into the dressing room, leaving Arthur and his friends to exchange wide-eyed glances. "Bloody hell," George murmured, shaking his head in disbelief. "You really did it, mate."

The concert was a blur of lights, music, and screaming fans. Arthur watched from the side of the stage, his heart in his throat as y/n owned the crowd. Her voice was a siren's call, her movements mesmerizing. He couldn't believe she was his, even if it was just for a little while. The energy was infectious, and he found himself swaying to the beat, lost in the rhythm of her performance.

After the show, she found him in the backstage chaos, her eyes searching the sea of faces until they landed on his. The moment their gazes met, the noise faded away, and it was just the two of them. She made her way over, dodging eager fans and eager handlers, and threw herself into his arms. The scent of her perfume was like a warm embrace, and he held her tight, feeling the buzz of her excitement.

"You were amazing," he murmured into her hair, his voice lost in the cacophony of the backstage area.

"Thanks," she said, her voice muffled against his chest. "You guys were great, too. I can't believe you came."

They talked about the show, their laughter echoing in the crowded hallway. The chemistry between them was palpable, and Arthur felt himself getting lost in her again. They had agreed to keep their relationship under wraps, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. Every time they were together, it felt like a secret that wanted to burst forth and be shared with the world.

But for now, they had to be content with stolen moments, with whispers and glances that spoke volumes. They group decided to sneak out the back, dodging the paparazzi that waited like vultures for a glimpse of y/n. The cool London air hit them like a slap in the face, a stark contrast to the heat of the venue. They slipped into a waiting car, the tinted windows offering them a brief reprieve from the world.

In the quiet of the car, their hands found each other, their fingers entwining. Arthur couldn't resist the urge to lean in, to capture her lips in a kiss that was both hungry and gentle. She melted into him, her hand sliding up to cradle his neck. It was a kiss that spoke of promises and dreams, of a future that was still uncertain but filled with possibility.

When they pulled up to the house they shared, a quaint townhouse in North London, the reality of their situation hit Arthur like a ton of bricks. The boys all lived together, and while they had managed to keep their relationship a secret thus far, it was only a matter of time before someone caught on. They stumbled out of the car, laughing and whispering, trying to act as casual as possible as they made their way inside.

The living room was a typical bachelor pad—beer bottles and pizza boxes scattered across the floor, the faint scent of dirty laundry lingering in the air. But to Arthur, it was home. He led y/n through the mess, her eyes wide with amusement. "Sorry about the state of things," he said, blushing. "We're not exactly neat freaks."

"It's charming," she said, her voice filled with genuine affection. "It's like a real house."

The boys looked at each other, a silent understanding passing between them. They had always known their living situation was less than ideal, but hearing her say it made it seem somehow…cozy. They cleared a space on the couch, and she settled in, her legs curled under her. They talked for hours, sharing stories and laughs, until the sun began to rise and the city outside grew quiet.

It was in those early morning hours that Arthur knew he was falling for her—not just for her fame or her beauty, but for the person she was beneath the glitz and glamour. Her vulnerability, her passion for music, her kindness—it was all too much to handle. He looked at her, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she teased him about his love for Doctor Who, and he felt his heart swell. He wanted to tell her everything, to shout from the rooftops that she was his.

But the world wasn't ready for their love story, not yet. So they sat there, in the quiet of the early morning, their bodies close but not touching, their hearts beating in sync. It was a moment that seemed to stretch on forever, a moment that was both filled with joy and tinged with the fear of what was to come. They had crossed a line that couldn't be uncrossed, and Arthur knew that their lives would never be the same.

*****

Taglist~

@gvf23

[steddieasitgoes]

@steddiemas Day 21 Prompt: Home and/or Dinner

I honestly think this is my favorite one yet!

Tags: Pre-Relationship Steddie, Eddie Munson Has A Crush On Steve Harrington, Holiday Parties, Overstimulation (the bad kind, not the fun kind), Steve Harrington Is A Sweetheart

wc: 2215 | Rating: G

Read on ao3 | ao3 collection

The holidays were always a quiet affair at the Munsons.

A few gifts, wrapped in week-old copies of the Hawkins Post, placed under a modest tree from Merrill’s. Wayne’s famous (well, famous to Eddie) chocolate chip pancakes in the morning with a questionable amount of syrup and a reheated casserole from Ms. Jenkins down the street for dinner.

No church or family plans, just the two of them, a couple of beers (root beer in Eddie’s case until a few years ago), and whatever movie Eddie had insisted they watch before he turned the TV over to Wayne and the Christmas basketball game.

It was good. Great, even.

Eddie loved his holiday traditions with Wayne.

He did, but sometimes he’d catch sight of Ms. Jenkins welcoming her brood of kids and grandkids into her cluttered trailer or spot Gerald loading the passenger seat of his pickup with toys for his nieces and nephews and wonder what it would be like to have a big family to spend the holidays with.

Turns out, it’s loud.

So, very, loud.

The Hopper-Byers’ new house is bursting at the seams with guests. The entire We Survived The End of the World gang is here along with some guests — Wayne and Ms. Henderson. Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair stopped by for about an hour before excusing themselves to finish up holiday shopping (said in a hushed tone to not ruin Santa for Erica — as if she still believes, Eddie had thought). But mostly it was just the usual gang.

Eddie learned, in the form of Dustin’s “you’re being stupid” voice that it's become a tradition for them. Gathering a week before the holidays to pig out on food and dessert, play games, and exchange presents. Celebrate the year coming to an end and them making it.

As the apocalypse gang grew every year, the celebration got bigger and bigger until they were tripping over each other inside of the Byers house. That is, until this year when Joyce and Hopper got their shit together and finally moved into a decent-sized house on the outskirts of Hawkins. It’s no Loch Nora mini-mansion, but it works for them — even if it's still a tight fit when everyone is together.

Murray, Joyce, and Ms. Henderson are gathered in the kitchen — arguing over when to take the turkey out of the oven and the proper milk-to-cheese ratio in macaroni casseroles. A small radio sits in the corner, attempting to play Christmas music over the static. That’s the con about living farther out, Eddie supposes.

El and Max have claimed a fold-out table on the outskirts of the kitchen where they’ve been decorating cookies for hours, it seems. El’s simple and artistic, Max’s a chaotic mess of spilled-over frosting and candy sprinkles. (Eddie’s stolen one from each and thinks they’re both delicious much to their delight.)

The den’s been co-opted by Hopper and Wayne, and the TV volume turned all the way up (“We can hear just fine! It’s you kids that are making it hard,” Hopper gruffed when one of them pointed out the volume). They’re switching between basketball games while nursing beers and pretending not to hear the argument going down in the kitchen.

Jonathan and Argyle are hiding out in his room — smoking and trying to drown out the noise with whatever record he managed to pick up from the store he’s working at. Eddie thought about joining him, but the scowl he earned from Wheeler Jr. had him changing course.

The rest of them have taken refuge in the spacious basement. It’s too chaotic for Dungeons & Dragons so the boys and Erica have taken to playing an intense game of Monopoly. The threats he’s heard hurled at each other have been clever and downright terrifying. Way worse than anything they’ve uttered at his DM table. Those heathens.

For some reason, Steve’s taken on the role of the banker. Something about Dustin skimming from the top last time he held the role and played. Now, house rules say the banker has to be an NPC, and well, Steve fits the bill. Unfortunately, he seems to be struggling with the math of it all judging by the scoffs and annoyed eye rolls thrown his way. Eddie would go help, but he doesn’t think he’d be much help. Godspeed, Steve.

Nancy and Robin are there too, sprawled out on the couch and lost in their own little world. Occasionally Robin gets up to flip the record on the record player, but mostly they sit together, gossiping and talking about who knows what in hushed voices. Eddie might understand every little thing about dungeons and hobbits, but girl talk? That’s an alien language if he’s ever seen one.

As for him? Well, he’s hovering in the middle of it all. With Steve occupied, he’s taken on his babysitter role of sorts. Racing up and down the stairs to fetch whatever snacks the gremlins demand, rustling Max and El’s hair on the way in, and nodding at Hopper and Wayne on the way out. He narrowly escapes being sucked into being the official judge for the impromptu Murray vs Ms. Henderson pie off and almost makes it up to Jonathan and Argyle’s room before Dustin is bellowing for him.

It’s fun, mostly.

Getting to see everyone relaxed and having fun. A far cry from the last time they were all together like this back in March.

In some ways, it's what Eddie’s always dreamed it would be like. Being part of a big family, a cog in a never-ending machine of noise and organized chaos.

But it’s also becoming a lot.

Lucas is about to put a hotel on Boardwalk that has everyone shouting and throwing their own pieces at his head. Steve’s trying to keep them under control but it's a losing battle. One that pulls Robin and Nancy from their own little world to join the chaos.

And then there’s even more noise.

A crash from upstairs, the blaring voice of Joe Strummer coming from Jonathan’s room, more shouting, Wayne and Hoppers stopping, and giggles from Max and El.

Suddenly all Eddie can hear is noise.

It gets louder and louder and louder until finally, he’s certain his eardrums are going to explode.

Taking the stairs two at a time, he pushes through the chaos going on upstairs (dropped pies and frosting stains and shouting at TVs) and makes his way onto the wrap-around porch.

The crisp cold air is the first thing that hits him. Like an idiot, he ran out of the house without a coat or scarf or hell, even the warm hat Ms. Henderson knitted for him earlier in the month. He shivers, rubbing his hands up and down his bare arm as he tries to take deep breaths, watching as his warm breath twirls in the breeze.

As his body adjusts, so do his ears. He can still hear the chaos going on inside, but it's muffled now. Distant. He can hear himself think for the first time in hours and for once, it’s nice.

The snow is falling in slow but steady flakes, dusting the backyard in the white. Or, it should be white, but the hoard of Christmas lights decorating the house illuminates the backyard in reds and greens. It’s a real Christmas wonderland out there, now.

Reaching into the pocket of his jeans, he pulls out a pack of cigarettes and his trusty lighter. The first inhale of nicotine warms him from the inside out, sending the goosebumps packing as he focuses on his steady and slow inhale and exhales.

At some point he zones out, so focused on the snow falling and the repetitive nature of lifting the cigarette to and from his lips that he doesn’t hear the creak of the door or the heavy footsteps that follow until the intruder is standing shoulder to shoulder with him.

“Figured you might be needing this,” Steve says, hand outstretched with Eddie’s coat.

“Thanks, man.”

They swap, Eddie takes the coat from Steve and Steve takes the lit cigarette from Eddie, keeping it safe while he shimmies his way into the monstrosity that he calls his winter coat. When he’s finally situated in the plaid nightmare, he reaches a hand out ready to take his cigarette back only to find it perched between Steve’s lips.

Oh.

That’s different.

Sure, they’ve smoked together before. Bummed off cigarettes in the ally behind Family Video and in the parking lot of Palace Arcade waiting for the gremlins to be done. But they’ve never shared the same one. Never pressed their lips to the same filter. Felt the dampness of their mouths on their own lips.

“Sorry,” Steve says, lips turning up in a small smile as he removes the cigarette. “Couldn’t help myself.”

Eddie nods, unable to say much else as their fingertips brush when he takes it back. Is it weird if he puts it between his lips right now? Is he supposed to wait a minute? Let Steve’s taste linger for a moment. God, he’s being so weird right now. In the end, he brings the cigarette to his lips and takes the smallest inhale, nearly coughing as the smoke floods his lungs because he’s so distracted by the way the filter feels different now that it’s been in Steve’s mouth — as if that makes any sense.

“You okay? You sort of booked it out of the room.”

“Yeah,” Eddie sighs, before leaning against the banister of the porch. “Yeah, m’good. It just—“

“Got too loud?” Steve supplies, mirroring his position. “I get it. I remember my first holiday dinner. There were a lot less of us in ’83 but shit. It was still so loud.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m a pretty loud son of a bitch.” Eddie’s caught off guard by Steve’s snorting. Stealing a glance, he finds Steve lit up in reds and greens, a smile etched on his face so deep he can see the spot where smile lines are going to emerge in the next ten years, catching the way his eyes already wrinkle in the corners. Fuck, he’s beautiful. “But, uh, yeah, I don’t think I’ve ever been in a house that loud before. Not even when I’m fucking around with the Corroded Coffin boys.”

“Well, I doubt that. Your music is very loud.”

“Uh, yeah, ‘cause it's metal, Steve.”

“So I’ve been told,” Steve says, smiling that soft, private smile again.

If Eddie was braver, he’d close the distance between them and press his lips to his. But if this year has taught him anything, it’s that he’s not. Not really. So he lets a quiet fall between them instead. They continue to stand shoulder to shoulder, passing the dwindling cigarette between them despite the pack in Eddie’s pocket being brand new, and watch as the snow steadily starts to pick up.

“You know,” Steve says, then stops.

Eddie turns, watching the gears tick in Steve’s brain as he decides what to say next. It’s magical watching it all pass on his face — the knit of his brows, his pupils dilating and returning to their normal size, letting the hazel shine through. The way his lips open and close like some gasping fish.

“If it ever gets to be too much, you can tell us. Tell me. Hell, I know I need a break after a few hours with those shitheads. Maybe we could come up with a code word or something.”

“A codeword? That’s might nerdy of you, Steve.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve says, waving his hand through the air as he bites back a chuckle. “But yeah, a code word. It’d be easier to say than “hey it’s too loud and I can’t think” you know. Plus, it would annoy the shit out of Henderson.”

“Well, then. Count me in. You know I love annoying the shit out of that kid. Gotta keep that ego in check somehow.”

They spend the next few minutes going back and forth trying to decide on a word that could work. Steve wants something common — a fruit or a vegetable. Eddie disagrees, saying it has to be something uncommon so they don’t accidentally say it, but common enough that it doesn’t sound weird casually being dropped in conversation.

They wrack their brain, throwing out silly words left and right until there’s a crash from inside. Their heads swivel in tandem toward the source of the noise. A flurry of shadows passes on the other side of the window as Steve shakes his head and sighs.

“Come on,” he says, handing the cigarette back to Eddie. “If we’re not at the table the minute the food gets served, we won’t be eating. The gremlins know no manner.”

Eddie laughs, stubbing out the cigarette on the ashtray precariously balanced on the banister, “Teaching ‘em manners seems like a job for their babysitter.”

“Nah,” Steve snorts. “Maybe one for their Dungeon Master, though.”

Just as the words leave Steve’s lip, there’s a shout from inside followed by another crash.

“Think it might be a job for both of us, actually,” Eddie laughs. “Together?”

“We need all the help we can get,” Steve says. “Together it is.” 

[lyrakanefanatic]

tig couple hcs part 2: avery and jameson

——————————————————————————

• they don’t have that similar music tastes, (as avery just kind of listens to the same 3 songs on repeat until she gets sick of them and looks for another 3 songs to listen to 😭☠️) but when they started dating, they started liking each others music. now when she’s in the car, avery tends to play jamesons playlists

• avery very much does not enjoy those events that alisa forces her to go to when her and jamie get in trouble, so jameson ends up being her hype man. he whispers chants in her ear, like “go avery! go avery! you can do this! go heiress!” so that she feels a bit better going (and so that she laughs bc jameson loves her laugh)

• her and jameson definitely did that “you better lock your phone” trend (the one where you scoop your partner up while running)

• they try the weirdest food combos when they get bored with max and xander, bc those two are weird food combo PROS.

• when they first started dating, avery tried to avoid pda. she would kind of avoid kissing him in front of his family ESPECIALLY his brothers because she felt awkward doing it at first. that was until she learned that they really didn’t care and now she’s fine with it

• i already said something like this in one of my other posts a while ago, but when jameson leaves his clothes in averys room and avery tells him, he always says “must be one of your other guys 😪😓😢”.

• because of this ⬆️, another awkward situation emerged at dinner:

• nan: “hey boy, what happened to that nice suit jacket i gave you for your birthday?”

• jameson: “oh, im not sure. maybe i left it in averys room?”

• avery: “oh yeah, you did. there are two on my dresser, so one should be it.”

• jameson, while smirking: “oh, i actually don’t think those are mine. must be one of your other guys that came over.” the table immediately goes quiet as the older residents of the hawthorne house shoot shocked and disgusted looks at avery. avery looks at him with a “really?” expression, and nash and xander, who knew what was going on, were dying laughing. even GRAYSON was smiling.

• jameson then goes into a deep explanation of the joke, and nan yells at him for putting that “poor girl” (avery) through that. he’s now banned from making jokes at the dinner table. 😪

• sometimes jameson sleep talks, and has like, ongoing convos with avery in his sleep. sometimes avery will lead it on bc she finds it funny, (he always asks her random stuff) but most times she just says “go to sleep, jamie” and he goes to sleep right away. (while making this i heard my dad snoring two rooms away 😔 HE IS SO LOUD!!)

• after nash proposed to libby, jameson made a joke before they went to sleep about proposing to avery, and she just laughed it off. but the next morning when she woke up and saw that he was still asleep, she whispered “i would love to get married to you someday” almost to herself, before kissing him on the forehead and snuggling into him. jameson never mentioned afterwards, but he heard what she said.

• avery actually loves the entire toy story saga and watched all the movies with jameson. they get some of libbys baked goods, tons of candy, and watch it. it used to be their alone time where they could snuggle up against each other and share kisses, but then by the time they were rewatching the second movie, xander found out that they watched those movies and busted in. now all the movie nights are jameson, avery….. and xander. ☠️

• avery wears his sweaters and jameson wears her necklaces

• on nights like mothers day, hannahs death date, or even fathers day they usually end the day with a movie while jameson distracts her by whispering sweet nothings in her ear and covering her with kisses 💗💗

• whenever they go to those fancy galas, they pass the time by looking at guests and creating “characters” for them. for example, jameson will look at a balding guy and say “he has bald spots because he was a lab rat for a mad scientist years ago, who used to zap his head with acids”. avery pretends to not like it but she actually does and laughs whenever he makes far fetched assumptions of the guests’ backstories.

• through out the grandest game, when they can’t sleep at night, they gossip about the contestants. yes, even AVERY does. they don’t ever say bad things about them and automatically assume the best, but they talk about tension/fueds between some. they talk about how it might play out, and sometimes jameson makes jokes about two of the contestants dating. yes, he would endlessly gossip about lyra and grayson. ☠️

——————————————————————————

[vanishingcherry]

Hey Leah, hope you’re doing good. If you’re taking requests, please could I get either Charles or Lando x fem reader. I had a really shitty day and my friends seem really distant and I feel super sad. Thank you x

PIANO LESSONS

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

author's note: heyy! im so sorry about your day... i hope you're feeling better now 🥰. im sorry its a bit late, ive just been in a writing slump and didn't have anything finished. ive had this in my drafts for a while tho so here you go!

masterlist

๑ ⋆˚₊⋆────ʚ˚ɞ────⋆˚₊⋆ ๑

It was summer break, which meant Charles was home for over 2 weeks and you had him all to yourself. Granted, you did have days in which you would go out with family and friends, but it was a manner of speaking. It meant that you would be together almost 24/7 for days at a time, something rare in his career.

That was why the two of you had pre-decided to make the most of it. Charles felt guilty sometimes, about not being, in his words, the boyfriend you deserved. Although you had told him multiple times that he was perfect, he held on to that insecurity, which is why you went along with everything he planned, knowing that all he wanted to do was spend time with you.

You could honestly say you had been on more dates in the last week than you had so far in the year. There were the simple dinner dates, movie dates, hiking dates and also the more unique ones, such as the one that ended with, for some reason, throwing paint on each other.

But with all that, there were also the more quiet days. The days in which the two of you would stay in your apartment all day long. Those were your favourite days. There was something special about being able to wake up late, not having to worry about work or some sort of event.

"Have you been awake a while?" you whisper, shifting so that you would be closer to him, tucking your head under his own as he continues to run his fingers through your hair.

"Ouais." he murmurs. Yeah. "Mais c'est bien. I like looking at you."

It was another one of these days, and you were coming back from the kitchen with a snack when you heard the soft notes of the piano. Smiling, you switched off your phone and walked into the makeshift studio you and Charles had converted a guest bedroom into.

He had taken piano lessons during quarantine, and you had never been happier with his decision. There would be times in which you would come home from work, the sound of music immediately putting you in a state of relaxation.

You stand in the doorway, watching as his fingers dance across the keys. A few minutes later, when he stops playing, you walk over and sit next to him.

"What piece was that?" you ask softly, not wanting to speak too loud. You rest your head on his shoulder, offering him a chip from your bowl.

"Did you like it?" he replies, answering with a question of his own.

"Yeah, it was beautiful. I loved it."

"It's mine. I made it." he admits sheepishly. "I was just trying something out."

"REALLY? Oh my god, amour!" Your eyes widen at his words, head turning towards him in disbelief.

"Yeah. You actually like it?"

"Yes, of course! Oh my god, bebe. How did you- I'm so proud."

He shyly smiles at your praise, before piping up. "Do you want me to teach you?"

"Your song?" you ask, clearly excited.

"Well" he starts. "Maybe not my song right now, but I can teach you an easier song... and then we can work up to my song?"

"Ouais! I can't believe I never thought of that before."

He smiles at your enthusiasm before wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you closer to him. He then gently takes your hands, placing them on the keys, keeping his fingers over your own. He looks at your expressing for a few seconds, unable to stop the smile from creeping on his face as he realises just how special you are.

"You press this finger and this finger at the same time, and hold it for a second" he directs, after shaking his head to focus, pressing down on the right keys.

You follow his directions, going over ever note a few times before moving on. He was patient, overly so, helping you with the biggest grin as you ask him to repeat the last few steps.

Before you knew it, it had been over an hour, and you had learnt quite a bit of what Charles was teaching you. At this point, both of your attention spans were low, and there wasn't a lot of playing going on. Rather, it was you trying to get through the last few notes before a break while Charles lightly tickled your sides, proving to be an annoyingly cute distraction.

"I think I'm done for today" you sigh, shifting slightly to rest your back against Charles.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I'm tired." you say.

He nods sympathetically before standing up and pulling on your hands to make you do the same.

"You go to bed and put something on the TV, okay? I'll make dinner and be there soon."

"Are you sure? Do you want me to help?"

"It's just pasta" he replies, shrugging and lightly pushing you in the direction of the bedroom.

"Okay... but I want mine al dente", you emphasize. "Not croccante"

liked by arthurleclerc, scuderiaferrari and 309,857 others

yourusername thanks for the piano lesson @.charlesleclerc

view all 8,547 comments

charlesfan oh to have charles as a piano teacher

scuderiaferrari couple goals

ynfan AUS23 yn's pov when

charlesleclerc of course ❤️... same time tomorrow?

↳ yourusername i'd love to

[wolfytae-exe]

Hiii, I'm here to make an ask jsjss

I've just been thinking about giving Soobin maybe not his first, but definitely his best handjob ever

Like maybe you're both in a new relationship together and you just want to help him because he's stressed and AGHHHH 😩😩😩

I bet he's the type that says "fuck being quiet if it feels good" so he's literally as loud as he can be, not caring anymore

THIS ASKEBJEWNE IM SORRY IM GETTING TO THEM ALL SO LATE😭😭

(mention of alcohol, drabble-ish, slight exhibitionism, Soobin is whiny tbh, Beomgyu is kind of a dick, this is like borderline crack in the beginning, drunk sex acts, shitty ending, subby-ish soobin, slight exhibitionism)

Bunny (s)(d-ish)

Soobin and you have been dating for about a month now, introduced to each other by some mutual friends. I was only common for you both to attend certain house parties said friend hosted from time to time.

Yeonjun loved throwing parties, but especially loved when you and Soobin showed up, you both always truly enjoyed hanging out with him and never go just for the free booze. It really means a lot to him to know you both are his friend too and that he was able to bring you both together, it’s the hopeless romantic in him.

You and Soobin were separated in the crowd, him playing beer pong and you dancing away to the heavy hip hop music; you liked r&b more but a couple drinks loosened you up. Speaking of a couple drinks, Soobin was currently losing and drinking wayyy to much to be the designated driver, you both knew staying over was the only option at this point.

The song switches up a few times and you’ve left to the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge despite the crowded space in the house. You pulled out some lime whip shots and started spraying it into your mouth before sneakily putting it back and grabbing left over pizza from the near back of Juns fridge.

You closed up the fridge and lifted your pizza above the sea of bodies while squeezing past, you grip on the crust was actually quite impressive because you managed to make your way into the back of the house without losing not even a freezing cold topping.

You sat on one of the plastic seats as began to eat, ignoring the way Beomgyu walked by and make the most disgusted face you’ve ever seen. “Cold pizza is fucking nasty.” He commented. “Suck my dick.” You replied with your mouth full, opening your legs into a manspread and looking up at him. “I’d rather not take my chances at herpes.” He responded quick, leaving you to gasp and shut your legs as he laughed and patted your back before leaving.

A pout emerged onto your face as you continued to eat your oh so cold pizza. “Y/N!” you heard under the loud music. “Y/N~” You heard again, a bit louder this time “Bunny?” You called back, recognizing the slurred voice. “There you areee~” Soobin giggled as he stumbled out the house and over to you.

“Just eating pizza.” You smiled as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder and crouched down. “Yummy- Ahhhhhh” He opened his mouth wide, wanting a bite, this is why you guys were so perfect for each other. You put the pizza in his mouth and pulled when he bit down, breaking the piece off.

Soobin hummed and stood up, planting a kiss on your forehead before letting you know he was heading inside to use the bathroom. You simply nodded and let him leave. Soobin left you with the crust of the pizza which was way to hard to bite so you just threw the rest away.

You took yourself back inside and began asking around for your boyfriend, but the moment you made it towards the steps upstairs you got a text from him telling you to come to the bathroom near the guest room. With a sigh you trudged up the steps and down the hall.

Once you were in front of the door you knocked, not bothering to pay attention to the moans on the other side of the door because it just sound like it was coming from one of the neighboring rooms. When you walked in, really knocking to announce your presence, you were stunned, slamming the door behind you and leaning on it as Soobin leaned on the sink jerking off with muffled moans.

“Fuck, bunny.” You sighed at his unbothered state, jerking off faster now that you were here. “H-help-“ He panted, thrusting into his hand while you just stared. “Y/N!” He whined and you broke out of whatever trance his cock put you in. “Can I?” You asked him with big eyes, contrasting his lust hazed hooded ones. Soobin just nodded, letting go after a few more pumps before you took him into your hands.

His cock was bigger than you thought, his hand made it seem like an average thickness but the moment you touched it you knew, your fingers couldn’t even close around it. “You’re so big, Bunny.” You comment, jerking him off. You both were drunk, not even realizing you were in Yeonjuns guest bathroom or that you were at a party. Not to mention this was your first time being intimate together.

The whine that Soobin let out made you squirm, jerking off the red tip of his cock. “Oh- Fuck- Just like that please- Make me cum please.” He whined and babbled, hips thrusting into your fists.

Your thighs rubbed together and a whimper left your throat. “You like that, Bunny?” You asked, jerking him off faster and planting a kiss to the base of his cock while looking up at him. Sweat sheened on his forehead and neck and his head fell back, “yes-yes, so good-“ Soobin panted, trying hard to whisper.

You couldn’t help but kiss up his shaft and squeezing your fist around the tip of his cock as a response, giggling at his whiny voice. “So cute, Bunny, you’re so loud.” You tease as he loses all control over his voice, the tightness around his cock making his eyes roll back. “Fuck- fuck being quiet- ngh- so good-“ Soobin whimpered, “Cumming- oh fuck im cumming-“ the taller warned with a loud long groan before cum spewed out into your tight fist, throbbing and pulsating hard.

“My god- Binnie~” You gasp as cum dripped down your forearm, you let go of his cock and more cum flung out at the release of pressure, making you yelp when it hit your chest and chin. “Holy shit!” You giggle before standing up and licking the cum of your chin like frosting. “You’re so hot.” Soobin slurred with half open eyes.

“You’re hotter, Bunny.” You slurred back before turning on the sink behind Soobin and running the water over your arms. Soobin moved away from the sink and pulled up his pants. “Thank you, honey.” He mumbled, now tired from one of the best handjob orgasms he’s ever gotten. “For the compliment and the handjob.” He rambled out before jumping hard, feeling his heart jump out of his chest at the loud knock on the bathroom door.

“YOU GUYS BETTER NOT BE FUCKING IN MY BATHROOM.” Yeonjuns voice blared from the other side of the door. “fuck.” You both whispered at the door.

[just-my-type-x]

Christmas colby request!! Maybe where you host a Christmas dinner party with some friends and when they leave you cuddle by the tree and watch movies?? Could be an imagine or a blurb whatever you prefer 😍

Home Alone

The loud voices of our friends can be heard from the other side of the house. I giggle while taking the presents from my wardrobe, handing a few bags to Colby.

"I can't understand how all these bags fit in there. You have clothes for two people", he laughs and i push him playfully, aware that he doesn't have empty hands to return the action.

"It took some time, but i managed", i exhale when i get out of the wardrobe, exhausted by moving clothes around to get the bags out.

We get downstairs and surprise our friends with the presents. They all cheer, but also remain shocked, because we agreed to only make Secret Santa and no other additional gifts.

"But whyyy? We haven't gotten you anything else", Kat comes and hugs me from the side. I hug her back, only holding 2 bags in my hand.

"You two are wonderful, but my arms are killing me", Colby's voice is heard from behind us and we're quick to separate, laughing. "We thought we would make this Christmas a little bit more meaningful and add some of our own gifts for you, since this is mine and y/n's first Christmas together.", Colby smiles and i give him a quick peck on the cheek before sharing the bags to each of its owners.

"There's no way! I think I've been looking at this jacket for months! They were always sold out", Sam exclaims while checking the jacket out and trying it on. "You are insane, thank you!", he hugs us and Colby and i look satisfied at one another.

.

.

The party comes to an end, Sam and Kat giving us a helping hand when the other guests left. I wash the last two plates in the sink and dry my hands on a towel. Colby's arms wrap around my waist, pulling me at his chest. His head lowers and kisses my temple and then rests it on my shoulder.

"We're finally alone. It's so quiet now", we chuckle and we rock our bodies slowly on the spot, left and right, even tho there's no music playing in the background. It's just how we act when we're relaxed.

"It was really nice tonight.", i smile and turn my head to look at him. He nods and we lean in to kiss each other, the softness of his lips making my whole body warm. "Let's watch something. And i already know what", i smirk and pull him by the hands, towards the living room. We sit down on the extended couch, both of us already wearing our matching Christmas pj set. I turn on the tv and play Home Alone, being the absolute best Christmas movie, at least in my opinion, because Colby always brags about it. He rolls his eyes at me and laughs, wrapping his arms around me and getting closer to me. We put the blanket on us and i giggle when the intro of the movie finishes and i see the iconic opening scene.

I start caressing Colby's arm, giving it a few kisses and bites from time to time. He kisses the top of my head and plays with my hair, tickling me every time i bite him too hard.

"oh, c'mon! You cannot be such a bad parent and forget one of your kids at home!", he brags and i throw another popcorn flower in my mouth

"My families have so many kids i wonder how this never happened to them", i say really meaning that and Colby laughs

"We won't make that many, then", i turn my head to face him and i see his face all red and eye wide. "I mean what?"

"Colby?", i manage to say, my smile growing big. "You see, uhm, such a long future with me?", i turn my whole body so i could face him properly. His arm rests on my hips while the other one holds his head.

"Yes. I have all the reasons in the world to do that. You're amazing, i spend the most important holiday with literally the love of my life. This is perfect. You made Christmas perfect and i couldn't have asked for more.", he rubs his nose against mine and i cup his cheeks, bringing him closer to me to kiss him. Colby brings my body closer and i wrap my arms around his neck, hugging him.

"You made Christmas feel like a holiday again. And i love you so much", my face is hidden in the crook of his neck and i place a quick kiss on there.

"Oh my God, y/n", he hugs me even tighter, his smile hurting his cheeks. "I love you so much"

"Has this toothbrush been approved by the American Dental Association?", we both laugh hearing Kevin on the tv and i turn around to watch the movie.

"Merry Christmas, baby" he whispers

"Merry Christmas, Colbs", i whisper back, holding him by the arm he has around me.

[melodygatesauthor]

The Webs We Weave

Peter B. Parker X Miguel O'Hara

Not Beta Read

I MIGHT write more for this, but as of right now I don't plan for it to be a series.

Summary

Miguel is babysitting May one night while Mary Jane and Peter are on a date. When they come home and Peter is drunk, things take a turn that Miguel wasn't expecting.

Tags/Warnings

NSFW, smut, top!Peter, bottom!Miguel, anal sex, we're ignoring anal prep in this one folks, anal creampie, cheating (Peter cheating on MJ), porn with some plot, gay sex, dirty talk, drunk sex, unprotected anal sex.

Word Count: 2k

“Thanks for watching May,” MJ whispered as she walked by Miguel who was sprawled out lazily on the couch.

“Yeah,” Miguel murmured, the fatigue of a long afternoon with the toddler weighing on him.

“I hate to ask this but, Peter is–”

“HEY MIG!” Miguel groaned upon hearing Peter’s voice outdoors, understanding perfectly well what Mary Jane was going to ask of him.

“On it,” Miguel grumbled, making his way to the door.

A drunken Peter was still sitting in the car, playing music far too loud for the neighborhood he lived in, and far too loud for one o’clock in the morning. Not to mention it had been a bit of a struggle to get May to sleep, and Miguel didn’t like the idea of listening to a screaming child all night. He practically ripped the car door off its hinges, turning the radio off before promptly grabbing Peter and pulling him out of the car.

“Will you shut the hell up? Your kid is sleeping.” Miguel hissed through clenched teeth, dragging Peter by the collar of his shirt into the house.

“I’m sorry!” He slurred. “Just trying to have fun with my wife, you know, that’s what I was trying to do!”

“Peter!” MJ whispered harshly, aiding Miguel to the bedroom with her intoxicated husband. “Put him on the bed. You getting drunk every time we have a date night isn’t fun for your wife.”

It was tough to see them like that. Miguel knew how much MJ meant to Peter, and vice versa, but he knew they weren’t happy. They hadn’t been happy for a long time. They’d invite Miguel over for dinner, or sometimes host parties and it would always end in one, or both, of them crying about how miserable they were. 

“Gotta stay together for the kid. I know it might not make sense to you since…”

Peter didn’t say shit like that on purpose, but it always made Miguel wanna knock the guy’s lights out whenever he did. The man’s a fucking idiot, Miguel reminded himself.

“Are you staying?” Mary Jane asked, eyes nearly pleading with Miguel.

He sighed, “yeah, yeah I guess I can. I had plans to go home and get a good night’s rest but yeah I can babysit your husband too. Why the hell not.”

~~~~

Miguel stayed. Of course he stayed. What else was he going to do? Leave his closest friend’s wife to deal with his bullshit? She was choosing to put up with his nonsense as much as Miguel was, but Miguel had a soft spot for Peter and his antics, even if he sported an irritated face ninety-percent of the time. Beneath that tough exterior, he cared deeply for the guy.

Miguel was curled up in the guest room when Peter sauntered down the hallway to the door.

“Mig,” Peter slurred, jumping Miguel in his bed.

“Jesus, Peter. You scared the shit out of–”

“Sh,” Peter shushed, sitting on the bed next to Miguel. “Don’t wanna wake up MJ.”

Miguel could see Peter’s features through the moonlight coming through the large window on the other side of the room. His eyes were underlined with dark circles and hair sticking out in every direction. Miguel’s eyes traced the outline of Peter’s body, white teeshirt sitting loosely over his frame.

“So you thought it was a good idea to wake me up? Peter–”

“I want a divorce, but I don’t want to do that to May.”

Miguel groaned. This wasn’t the first time he’d heard Peter talk like that, and it wouldn’t be the last.

“You’re drunk. Go to bed.” Miguel grumbled, laying back down and rolling over so his back was to Peter.

“Miguel,” Peter whispered, putting his hand on Miguel’s shoulder.

He tried to shrug Peter’s hand away but the man was persistent. He moved in, curling up behind Miguel and pressing his chest against the larger man’s spine. His arm snaked under Miguel’s arm and around his waist.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“I’m just getting comfy, just relax will ya?” Peter sniffed out a laugh as he cozied up closer behind his friend.

Miguel could feel it, the hard press of Peter's dick against his ass cheek. He tried to ignore it, thinking that drawing attention to it might be more awkward than just letting it go. What Miguel couldn’t ignore, was Peter’s fingers grabbing at the waistband of his boxer-briefs and tugging them down before reaching for Miguel’s to do the same.

“Peter, what the fuck are you doing? Are you stupid?”

“Yeah, but also, really fucking horny, Mig,” he slurred drunkenly. “Be a good friend for me okay? Please?”

Miguel wanted to tell him to stop…didn’t he? This was weird, and it was wrong. MJ was right in the other room, and Peter was his best friend. They’d always been just friends…that’s it.

Miguel heard Peter spit and felt him jerk himself once, and then twice, before sliding his cock between Miguel’s cheeks. Peter couldn’t see the way Miguel was gripping the sheets, nor the way his jaw was clenched so tight he thought his teeth might break.

“I’ve never done anything like this before so do I like…do I just…”

He moved his hips forward, the fat tip of his cock rested against Miguel’s tight ring of muscle. Miguel exhaled sharply, cock springing to life almost immediately with the prod of Peter’s thick head. He tried to relax, making himself more pliant. Peter pushed forward, his wide girth slipping into Miguel’s hole like it belonged there.

“Holy shit,” Peter breathed, feeling his cock throb inside Miguel’s tight ass. “You’re so tight, Mig.”

Miguel couldn’t respond, the feeling of Peter’s cock stretching him out made his brain short-circuit. He huffed out through his nostrils, fingers digging into the sheets as Peter started rocking himself back and forth. The bed creaked, forcing him to slow just a tad, fearful that Mary Jane would find out what they were doing.

Peter’s dick twitched inside of Miguel again, forcing him to choke back a moan. He still didn’t want to tell Peter he liked it. Part of him, despite his friend already being balls deep in his guts, still wanted to pretend that they weren’t doing what they were doing. Miguel’s cock ached, the glossy tip leaking precum all over the bedding. He rutted forward, the delicious friction of the sheets forcing a soft exhale from his lips.

“God, Mig, you like that hm?” Peter asked, his pace still a slow roll into Miguel, body shuddering every time he bottomed out. “I can hear you whining, it’s cute,” Peter laughed.

“Cállate,” Miguel grumbled, trying to ignore how good it felt to have Peter stretching him out like that.

“Oh come on Mig, you…fuck…you like it,” Peter teased.

Miguel didn’t say a word, not wanting to give Peter the satisfaction of thinking he’d won Miguel over. He was still trying to process the fact that his best friend of the last couple years was buried deep in his ass with the man’s wife sleeping just two doors down. Miguel’s talons extended outward, digging into the extra pillow by his head. He pulled it down to his cock, shuddering at the feeling of his slick length brushing against the fabric.

“Y’know if you roll that thing up just right I bet it would feel amazing,” Peter slurred in Miguel’s ear. “Try it.”

Miguel grumbled but eventually conceded to Peter’s idea, rolling the pillow so it had a hole in the middle and stuffing his dick inside. The fucker was right. It did feel good. He breathed out, bucking his hips forward into the makeshift fleshlight.

“You thinking about me, Mig?” Peter’s hips rolled behind Miguel even faster. “You thinking about how good it would feel to fuck my ass? F-fuck, maybe I’ll l-let you try me out next t-time.”

Peter started struggling to speak, breaths coming out in sharp gasps the closer he got to spilling everything he had into Miguel’s tight hole. Miguel felt Peter’s hands digging into the meat of his narrow hips. His thrusts were getting more ragged and sloppy, and Miguel couldn’t shake the delicious feeling of his own cock throbbing and leaking into the pillow the more he fucked into it.

God he felt depraved, happily letting his drunken friend fuck him dumb while he rutted desperately into a damn pillow. Of all the times Miguel had felt self-loathing, this was near the top of his list. Every time Peter’s cock stuffed him to the brim though, he forgot all about it, mind going numb with nothing but the feeling of his asshole getting railed.

“Peter, this is so f-fucking dumb,” Miguel said, still holding on to the smallest bit of dignity he had left, the part of him that felt bad for Mary Jane.

“Sh,” Peter whispered, nails digging harder into Miguel, “I’m so close Mig, please.”

Peter whined in Miguel’s ear, and how could he possibly say no to that?

Giving in, Miguel started moving along with Peter’s rhythm, fucking the hole he made in the pillow like it belonged to a living, breathing human. Miguel’s mind went blank, filled with nothing but the feeling of his aching cock against the fabric while he rolled his hips faster.

“Oh god Mig, do you want me to come in your ass? I can pull out if you want I…oh shit I’m…” Peter didn’t wait for an answer before he felt his cock twitching and shooting hot ropes deep into Miguel’s tight hole.

“Fuck, Parker, for fuck’s sake…”

Miguel lost it, cum spilling out into the stark white pillow while his asshole contracted around Peter’s dick. He’d never had such a strong orgasm before that night, the feeling forcing his entire body to stiffen and shake with every throb of his cock. They laid there for a while, the room filled with nothing but their combined heavy breaths before Peter finally pulled out, leaving Miguel feeling empty.

“Fuck, Miguel,” he whispered, kissing Miguel’s neck once before pulling his sweats back up around his hips.

Miguel didn’t turn around. He didn’t know what he’d do even if he had. It didn’t feel like the right time for post-sex cuddling and a soft makeout session, so Miguel just kept his body turned away from Peter as the man got up and left the room silently. If not for the cum still dripping out of Miguel’s spent asshole, it would be like Peter was never there in the first place.

When morning came, Miguel wasn’t sure what would happen. Would Peter even remember stealing into Miguel’s room the night before? Would he go on as if nothing ever happened? As far as Miguel was concerned, it would be best if they let it go. How could they possibly continue running the Spider Society as partners if they were…doing things in secret behind the scenes? It didn’t make sense. Not to mention…Mary Jane.

She was smiling when Miguel made his way into the kitchen in the morning, the red headed toddler hanging off her shoulders while she made coffee. Miguel and MJ exchanged pleasantries, but Miguel’s aching rear amplified his guilt tenfold. He felt like he should tell the blissfully ignorant wife that her husband had cheated on her the night before.

Then again…Miguel didn’t exactly do anything to stop it.

“Morning!” Peter exclaimed, coming out of his bedroom with a wide stretch and a loud yawn.

“Morning, Peter,” both Miguel and Mary Jane said in unison, turning to face him.

“I’m so sorry if I caused too much trouble last night, I was deeerunk,” he said nonchalantly, walking up behind MJ at the counter and kissing her on the cheek.

While she was turned away, Peter and Miguel shared a glance where Peter looked Miguel up and down.

“I don’t remember much so, I hope I wasn’t a…pain in the ass…”

Miguel gulped. Peter clearly didn’t intend on ignoring what had happened between them the night before, and Miguel couldn’t shake the new feelings he felt stirring inside.

Miguel O'Hara Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[hergrandplan]

Wille's Month Day 5 ( @youngroyals-events ): Cooking/baking

Hi everyone! I am back from New York and so so excited to post again. For this prompt, there's surprisingly little Wilmon... but that doesn't mean it's not sweet ;) Hope you'll enjoy!

Also disclaimer: I used Spanish in some places here, I am nowhere near a native speaker but have been learning it for the past few years, and did some extra research on Venezuelan Spanish. However, I haven't had anyone check it so any and all mistakes are mine.

It's the last night of their trip to visit Simon's family in Venezuela. They help Simon's abuelita prepare dinner.

Read below the cut or on ao3 (the ao3 version has a translation key)

The radio is blasting a canción, the strum of the guitar and the deep baritone of the singer joining the smell of roasting meat, of onions and garlic filling up the kitchen.

Simon and his abuelita are singing along to the music, her gravelly voice and his smooth one creating a beautiful, joyous homely symphony. It’s off-key, at times, like when Simon grabs his abuelita’s hand to spin her around, and they are both breathless for a minute, laughing. Simon is less focussed on how he sounds, more happy to just sing, using the ladle like a microphone.

Wille’s heart aches with fondness at the picture, and he’s grinning when Simon takes his hand, remembering at the last minute to put the knife he was using to cut the onions down as his boyfriend pulls him into a waltz that’s very much not fitting the song and yet perfect. They’re jumping around the kitchen, dancing, laughing and falling into each other’s arms as they try to match the up-tempo beat of the song. Simon’s abuelita looks at them fondly while stirring the meat for their dinner tonight – pabellón criollo, their family recipe.

It had taken Wille a full week to convince lita – because she insists he call her that too – to finally let him help cooking. This was, after all, her domain, and Wille was a guest. Every time he’d asked her, she just told him, with warm eyes, that los invitados no cocinan aquí, cariño, and Wille could say nothing against that.

But finally, on this final night of their trip to Venezuela, she caved after Wille told her how much he loves cooking. And though it’s true that the sound of the knife falling against the wooden cutting board and the sizzling of vegetables in hot oil, the doing rather than thinking and never stopping grounded him, it wasn’t the only reason he had wanted to help her cook.

Wille has been received with open arms from their first day in Venezuela, the whole family just accepting him and doing their best to include him even if he can’t always follow along and Simon has to translate. They joke with him the same way they joke with Simon, ask him for any embarrassing stories about their primo and even despite the language barrier, Wilhelm feels like he is home. Like he’s always been part of this big, loud and loving family.

And for that, he wants to say thank you. By cooking, by helping Lita in the kitchen as they prepare this last feast before they fly back to Sweden.

Lita asks Simon something in Spanish that Wille can’t understand. Though he learned a bit of Spanish when he was younger for diplomatic reasons, and though he tried to brush up on his knowledge before making the trip over, Lita speaks so rapidly and with such a heavy accent, dropping d’s and s’s, that Wille often has a hard time following her. Like he has now.

Simon nods at whatever Lita told him (asked him, maybe?) and leaves the kitchen.

Lita and Wille cook in silence for a moment or two, the radio still playing, but only Wille is humming along now. Though he can only catch part of the lyrics, he’s heard the song enough times now to at least know the melody.

Wille finally finishes dicing the onions and goes to put them in a separate pan to fry them up for the beans.

“You make him happy, you know.”

Wille is so focussed on what he’s doing that he doesn’t even realize that Lita started talking to him, the Spanish much slower than she spoke to Simon a moment ago.

Surprised, he turns to face her. Her eyes are trained on the food, but the corner of her mouth has lifted up into a small smile.

“He makes me happy too,” Wille says after a moment, in careful Spanish.

“I’m glad he’s found you,” she continues, again speaking slowly so Wille can catch every word. “You two remind me of me and my husband, dios lo tenga en su gloria, when we were your age.”

Wille doesn’t reply – doesn’t know how to reply, didn’t expect this at all. It’s not that Lita never talks to him, but he realizes now they haven’t had a moment alone before now, always surrounded by at least one other family member.

Lita fully turns to him now and places a warm, rough hand that shows years of labor and love on his cheek. She looks at him with chocolate eyes, a piercing gaze that Wille finds all too familiar – they’re Simon’s eyes as well.

“I can tell you love him very much, and that he loves you very much. I hope you’ll continue to make each other happy for many years to come.”

And where at first Wille was just surprised, now he’s stunned into absolute silence. This, this seems important somehow. This feels like a blessing.

“I’m happy you’re part of the family, mijo.”

Mijo. Wille falters at the word, barely able to wrap his mind around Lita calling him son, truly welcoming him into the family. He’s actually part of this, of them, of this part of Simon’s life now. And she, this woman who holds so much love in her heart, sees how much they mean to each other. That they are each other’s forever.

Wille thanks her, flustered and stumbling over his r’s that still feel unfamiliar in his mouth. But he thanks her nevertheless, saying he hopes for the same, that he will do everything in his power to make Simon happy, to show Simon how much he loves him every single day.

Lita just chuckles and resumes cooking, the moment gone as soon as it started. That’s when Simon stumbles back into the kitchen, holding a giant bag of rice. He launches into another tale in Spanish, occasionally glancing at Wille, who’s still standing next to Lita and isn’t really paying attention anyways, too caught up in what just happened. Wille knows he must have the dumbest smile on his face because Simon looks at him, questioningly. Wille shakes his head. Later, he mouths.

Wille looks on as the scene settles back to what it was before – Simon and Lita singing along to the radio, continuing their cooking. But it’s changed, somehow. Wille’s heart feels… Fuller. Fuller than it ever has as he too softly joins in the singing. This has Simon even more confused before he shrugs, shaking his head in bemusement at Wille’s very off-key singing.

They finish dinner. Wille helps Simon carry it all outside, putting it on the large table so they can have it under the stars, with the cicadas singing their cacophony in the background.

It’s their family tonight that they have this final dinner with. Their cousins that jostle around for the ladle, that laugh loudly into the night sky.

His and Simon’s, forever.

[aneurinallday]

Green Eyes

Chapter 13: Fool’s Paradise

Thomas wandered restlessly through the party, ignoring the happy revellers around him, before weariness led him upstairs to bed. He washed his face with cold water in an attempt to freshen up, but couldn’t shake the fog from his mind. Stripping to his trousers, he collapsed on the bed.

Time passed - he wasn’t sure how much. In the distance, he could hear the band winding down, the music transitioning from lively to sedate, before ceasing altogether. He pictured his guests, his family, no doubt gossiping in excited whispers about his mysterious paramour. Some of them would be going home now, others retiring for the evening, and the rest would continue chatting and playing cards until dawn.

Thomas began to doze. Through half-awake ears, he heard the bedroom door creak open. He imagined for a moment that it was Grace, come to chide him for abandoning their guests in such a huff. But then a loud whisper came from the doorway:

“Mister Shelby? Mister Shelby, are you awake?”

And he knew it was only Alec, creeping into his arms in a desperate search for…something. For love. For a sense of belonging. For easy money.

Hearing no reply from Thomas, Alec entered, trying to be quiet but bumping against furniture. He tripped on the edge of the rug and grabbed the dresser for support, causing the contents to rattle. He shushed himself.

“I’m awake,” Thomas said to spare him the effort.

“It’s me, Mister Shelby.”

“I know.”

Thomas heard the soft rustle of clothes dropping to the floor, then Alec climbed into bed beside him, embracing him from behind.

“Don’t be sad,” he mumbled into Thomas’s hair, “I hate seeing you sad. Not when you make me so happy.”

“How can I make anyone happy?” Thomas wondered.

“Don’t think like that. You deserve better.”

“Do I?”

“Mhm. You deserve to be as happy as I am.”

His hands slid beneath Thomas’s shirt, rubbing his chest.

“She’s gone,” he whispered in Thomas’s ear, “But I’m here. I’ll always be here for you.”

Thomas recoiled. With a rough jerk of his elbow, he pushed Alec away.

“Get off me,” he grunted.

Alec clung on.

“She left you. I’ll never leave you. You can trust me, Mister Shelby.”

“Get the fuck off me!”

With more force, he shoved Alec off the bed. Alec stumbled backwards, barely decent, his hair dishevelled, his eyes glassy. There was a string of tinsel draped around his shoulders, and his open shirt smelled of spilled brandy.

“What’s the matter?” he slurred.

“Get out.”

“I’m sorry. I was trying to make you feel better.”

“Get the fuck out! You’re not Grace, you’re not my lover, you’re not even my friend. You’re just a whore I took pity on.”

Hurt crossed Alec’s face, quickly followed by anger.

“Just because you’re sad, don’t take it out on me,” he said, “It’s not my fault she’s dead. You’re the one who got her killed.”

“What?”

“I said, you’re the one who got her killed! You’ve got nobody to blame but yourself. But I guess you’re not used to taking responsibility, are you?”

“What did you say to me?” Thomas uttered in disbelief. Then his voice suddenly rose in fury. “What the fuck did you say to me?”

“If she was smart, she would’ve let you take the bullet! But then again, only an idiot would marry you. You’re a fucking failure. Everything you got, you got from tricking and hurting other people. I earned every good thing I ever got, but you’ve never earned a damn thing in your life!”

“You fucking - ”

Thomas scrambled off the bed. Seeing him eye-to-eye, Alec must’ve realised he was at a physical disadvantage, because his expression changed from anger to alarm. He abruptly turned and ran away.

“You little shit!” Thomas yelled after him. He snatched his undershirt and put it on - a barrier between his skin and Alec’s now-unwelcome touch - and gave chase. “Fucking get back here!”

Alec fled down the corridor and across the landing to his guest room. He ran straight into the en-suite, slammed the door shut, and latched it. Thomas reached the door a second later and pounded upon it, shouting:

“Who do you think you are? Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“Stop it!”

“She was my wife. She was my fucking wife!” Thomas banged his fist against the unyielding door. “I loved her! You don’t fucking speak of her, do you understand me?”

“Please stop it.” Alec’s frightened voice came through the wood. Fear seemed to have cleared his head.

“How fucking dare you?” Thomas kicked the door and rebounded, almost losing his balance. “She was the best thing in my life. I loved her. Open the door!”

“Please stop.”

“Open the door, Alec. Open the fucking door!”

Thomas punched the wood, and cursed at the pain that shot through his hand.

“Fuck!”

The pain was infinitely sobering. He turned away from the door, nursing his knuckles as they throbbed. Hasty footsteps approached, and the door of the guest bedroom banged open. It was Arthur, freshly rolled out of bed, pistol in hand.

“Tom? You alright there, brother? I heard a ruckus.”

“It’s nothing. Go back to bed.”

“Don’t give me that shit. You were chasing someone. What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing,” Thomas insisted. “I’ve got it under control.”

He could see Arthur’s brain slowly working, putting together the pieces: the chaos, Thomas’s disarray, the obvious fact that he’d been shut out of the bathroom.

“Are you serious, Tom?” he said, “You’re going to spend Christmas night fighting with your live-in whore? Don’t you pay him well enough to keep him sweet?”

“I don’t pay him anything. Now go back to bed,” Thomas repeated.

“Fine. Have fun.”

Thomas was left standing outside a locked door, half-dressed, massaging his knuckles. His gaze fell on a framed photograph of Clara, taken on her first birthday, sitting happily in Alec’s lap. She was laughing and her father was bursting with pride. Alec kept it on his bedside table, so that even though they slept in separate rooms, he could still see her.

Thomas’s energy left him. He sighed and sank down into a sitting position, his back resting against the wall.

“Look,” he said dully. “Open the door.”

“No.”

“You can come out now.”

“No.”

“I’m not angry any more. I won’t hurt you.”

He heard Alec sink to the floor, and the door gave slightly in its frame as the young man leaned against it.

“You scared me,” Alec said.

“I know. Sorry.”

“You were going to hurt me.”

“I was.” Thomas couldn’t deny it. “It won’t happen again.”

“How do you know it won’t?”

“Because I won’t allow it. I won’t lose my temper with you again.”

“Do you promise?”

“I promise.”

Thomas heard the latch scrape. There was a pregnant pause as Alec waited for his reaction, then the knob turned and the door opened a crack. The young man peeped out.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I don’t know why I said those things. I didn’t mean it. I was just trying to - I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“I was trying to make you angry. You hurt me, so I hurt you.”

“Well, be proud. You did it.”

The door opened wider, and Alec emerged. He sat on the floor next to Thomas, his legs stretched out in front of him.

“Merry Christmas,” he smiled ruefully, a feeble attempt at lightening the mood.

“Merry Christmas,” Thomas sarcastically echoed.

“I drank too much tonight.”

“Me too.”

“This shouldn’t have happened.”

“No, it shouldn’t.”

“This whole thing was stupid.” Alec put his arms around Thomas. It felt uncomfortably like the hug of a child who’d misbehaved, seeking reassurance that it was still loved. “Forgive me and I’ll forgive you.”

“Alright. I forgive you.”

Alec squeezed him tighter.

As Thomas sat defeated on the floor, staring at nothing and stewing in his own regret, a thought began to form in his mind.

It came slowly, furtively, stirring the hairs on the back of his neck, like the tickle of a tiny insect creeping on his skin - faint but disquieting.

“How did you know?” he said out loud.

“Hm?”

“About Grace?”

“What do you mean?”

Thomas’s tired brain was struggling to replay the past six months, trying to remember if he had ever - perhaps in a drunken depression, perhaps in a post-coital glow - brought up the manner of Grace’s death.

“How did you know she took a bullet for me? I never told you.”

“Everybody knows. It was in the newspapers.” Alec smiled weakly. “Even whores read newspapers. Wife of a famous gang-lord and philanthropist, murdered. That’s a story right there. And she was so beautiful, too. People were talking about it for days.”

“...Of course.” It made sense. And yet…something wasn’t quite...

Alec suddenly kissed his cheek. Thomas couldn’t help but feel that it was a distraction.

“I’ll go to bed,” he said, “I need to sleep off all those brandies.”

He released Thomas from his embrace, and stood awkwardly, putting one hand on the wall to steady himself. He hesitated before adding:

“I think…I think we should sleep separately tonight, Mister Shelby.”

“You’re right about that,” Thomas said. He rose stiffly to his feet. “I’ll get out of your hair. Sleep well.”

“Sleep well, Mister Shelby.”

On his way back to his own room, Thomas stopped by the nursery to check on Clara. She slumbered peacefully in her crib, unaware of anything that had just occurred. As he looked down at her sleeping face and wispy blonde hair, he struggled to find any resemblance to Alec. But perhaps it was just the darkness and self-doubt playing tricks on him. He shook the thought away, kissed her goodnight, and left.

[hmmidnight-hunt]

Day 4 — Ghost

“Away from prying eyes”

Part 1.

Kinktober day 4: Teratophilia — GN!Reader, Monster!Ghost

NSFW, MDNI — TW: Depiction of murder and violence, blood, vague descriptions of s3xual acts, paranormal

If I can recommend anything for this one, it’s to add Glow by Snow Wife to your playlist while you read it. Absolutely obsessed by this song. Hope y’all enjoy this one as much as I did writing it <3 -Midnight

It’s sweaty. Stuffy. Humid and oppressive. The loud sounds, the overly bright lights, the strangers bumping into you, the yelling.

You are having the time of your life.

Genuinely, this is one of the best Halloween parties you’ve ever been invited to. I guess illegal raves have that charm. Everyone is dancing and laughing, alcohol flowing freely in the guests’ cups, there’s that one cute guy grinding on behind you.

His hands are settled on your waist, although a bit touchy-feely with everything else. You’ve lost track of time, unable to even tell when he first snuck up upon you to start and whisper all sorts of dirty things in your ear.

Not that you’d heard anything over the deafeningly loud music.

It’s a stranger, and maybe that’s part of the thrill. You two are sharing a moment, and soon enough it’ll be gone, just like it never existed. It’s exciting.

“Want to ditch?” You offer, lulling your head back against the man’s torso to almost yell in his ear. It makes him wince. It makes you laugh.

“‘Course.”

You turn around and grab his hand. It’s easy, finding a hot ex frat boy willing to follow you home and spend the night with you. It’s easy, and it’s how you like it. With a gentle tug, you guide him through the dense crowd, hips swaying their way out. The nameless man licks his lips as he follows, gaze wandering down on the way the rainbow flashing lights highlight your body with each step.

The cold autumn air greets your exposed skin with a sharp bite as soon as you step out into the night. The stranger soothes the shivers on your spine with a caress. Maybe an attempt at coming off as romantic. It doesn’t work very well when you’re quite literally leading the man towards your car for some adult fun.

It isn’t much warmer inside the red Vauxhall Astra MK1, but at the very least it shields you from the wind outside. The passenger door shuts right as you make contact, engaging the reverse gear to back out of the tight spot the vehicle is parked in.

“What’re ya doin’, doll?” The stranger asks, raising a brow at you.

“I’m not a fan of prying eyes… I know a spot close to here.” It’s the truth. You smile at him, innocence mixing with the enticing glimmer that dances in your eyes.

“Alrighty then. You’re a needy one, yeah? Skipping right to the main course…” He laughs, and you feel a hand slip over your thigh.

It is a quick drive to the nearby forest, the rave’s sounds now only a distant mutter. The full moon is beautiful, shining silver down upon the bright red paint of your car. She plays hide and seek behind passing trees. Your passenger gets impatient. You pull up and stop the engine, parking it close to a small river stream.

It’s beautiful. It’s peaceful. It’s perfect.

“And I’m the needy one?” You chuckle, turning to him. He mirrors your laughter, fingertips inching higher between your legs. He does not answer, but he does lean in to kiss you, his other arm resting on the top of your car seat – right behind your head.

The man stops right in his tracks. “D’you hear that?” There’s a tinge of nervousness in his voice when he turns his head to look into the depths of the woods.

“No, keep going… Or we can leave if you’re afraid,” you tease, biting the fat of your bottom lip. Men like him never back down when you question their ego. His lips twist into a carnal grin.

“Ah, you wish,” He replies.

Things get heated quickly; hands get lost grabbing at each other’s bodies, unbuttoning shirts and pants, pulling on hair. The jock moans into your neck, tongue busy tasting your warm skin. “I’m gonna show ya what a real man feels like, babe.” His tone is so cocky it makes you snicker. Still, you arch your back and part your legs, just like he expects.

“Yeah? Go on then, pretty boy, show me what you’re made of.”

You close your eyes, anticipation curling your lips into a foxy grin. He hums in satisfaction, ego swollen with pride at your words.

There’s a bit of ruffling, wet sounds reaching your ears, movement over you. The wind feels cold on your skin. You bite back a smile when whimpers fill up the car and drown out the radio. You don't even realise how your thighs press together, intoxicated in the moment.

Suddenly, a warm liquid seeps through your remaining clothes. You gasp, soon followed by a light chuckle. “Already? You didn’t even let the fun start. You made a mess in my car…” You note, opening your eyes, “Again.”

Again? Wasn’t he a stranger? What do you mean, again?

There’s blood everywhere around you, on you, staining the seats, soaking the carpet. And two yellow orbs looking back at you.

“You know I hate when they put their filthy hands on you,” The shadow growls. “They touch what’s mine, they die. Simple math.”

The car door opens with a click, phantom tendrils of pure darkness filling the car up and curling around your body. Slowly, it lifts you and pulls you out of the Vauxhall. It’s gentle, but it’s possessive.

You smile, wrapping your arms around the concealed humanoid shape you are pressed against. There is blood dripping from his mouth. God, you’ve never wanted to kiss him more than you do now.

“Hey there, Ghost…”

[amymbona]

Before the marriage in the royal! au can imagine some random noble disrespecting you as you attend to them in some function and Lord Patrick losing it. like LOSING IT!

YES! PROTECTIVE PATRICK TO THE RESCUE😫😫

I'm imagining the event takes place during the week of Patrick's visit, the first time you meet. It's two days after you played the part of a little gift in his room and you haven't seen him since, thinking this was just a one-time thing and he's never even gonna look at you again.

He's in Art and Tashi's presence, obviously, the most honorable guest of the party. You catch his eye a couple of times as you pass around in your uniform dress, which is essentially made to have you look non-appealing and same like other girls. But from Patrick's point of view, you are like a little jewel, the most beautiful and precious think in the room.

You're too nervous to walk too close to him, but know you'll eventually have to, as Art and Tashi like it when you're the one to serve them their drinks. So when you bring them their goblets of wine, Patrick greets you with a smug smile, almost unable to keep it up when you cheeks redden. You are so adorable in his eyes. Art notices and gives him a pat on the shoulder for doing good job with you.

Fast forward, the evening goes on. Some men get way too drunk of their wine and while you politely refuse to bring a particular duke another goblet of requested liquid, softly insisting whether he'd like something non-alcoholic instead, he gets angry. First, he raises his voice at you and throws in some insults, and as you attempt to leave, he grabs the sleeve of your dress.

"You're not going anywhere, little girl," he slurs drunkenly, pulling you closer. "Bring me some wine. Now!"

"Sir," you stammer, but still manage to remain polite and soft. "I apologise, but I don't think I can bring you any."

You can, and you probably should. But you're far enough of an anxious girl who knows enough alcohol never goes good to anyone. Plus, you don't like weird, drunk men.

Your words seem to have angered him, as he leans in, the alcohol stinking breath hitting your face. "Oh you will apologise, if you don't move and bring me some goddamn wine now."

You really don't want to. "Sir."

"So you won't listen to me?" he growls, voice finally loud enough to be heard over the music. Even to spark someone elses attention. "Stupid girl."

Before you could register it, that man grabs a hold of a golden pitcher on a nearby table and chugs all the contents at you. Suddenly, your pretty dress is stained with a sparkling liquid, eyes wide and expression full of fear. With a yelp, you jump back as he slams the pitcher down and it shatters right by your feet.

Now this has definitely been loud enough for everyone around you to notice. The music comes to a halt and chatter stops, all the attention turning to the two of you. Apparently, the duke is still not satisfied, as he continues spitting insults at you.

It surprised you when there's a body next to yours, which then moves in front of you to shield you from that creepy man. All you see is a bunk of dark curls and someone's broad back clad in a fancy dress suit. And then, when he begins yelling at the man, you recognise the voice as Patrick's.

Tashi's by your side, her hand on the small of your back, but all your attention is on Patrick. On the way he grabs that old creep by the collar and gets all in his face, tall frame hovering over him.

"Is that a way to treat a lady?" Patrick questions, struggling to keep his voice, and himself overall in control. There's an evident hint of anger on his face, and he's so close to that ugly prick that he could bite off his nose if he wanted to. "You won't be talking to her like this!"

The man stammers some kind of an explanation, definitely far from an apology, just mumbling something about the wine, but Patrick buys none of it.

"You disrespectful bastard!" he's not even holding back anymore, not caring that there are people watching him, judging him. He's far too concerned for you and your well being so his face turns all red and knuckles white from how hard he grips the fancy fabric. He wants to tear that hideous suit into pieces for destroying your dress. That man could as well walk home naked, for all he cares.

Art is there for the rescue, hands tight on Patrick's arms, attempting to pull him away. "Patrick," he warns him, knowing he has to hold him back despite approving of his actions. But this better be solved in private.

The dark haired man is strongest, though, easily prying himself out of Art's hold and stomping towards the man again. He corners him against a table, leaning in so close that their nosws almost touch.

"I could punch you. I could slit your throat just for this, old man." he threatens, and there is absolutely no doubt in both Art and Tashi's minds that he would, and that's why the need to restrain him somehow.

Art tugs onto his arm once more, this time finally pulling him away from the duke. Patrick stands straight and smooths down his suit, smoothly running a hand through his hair. "Don't you dare show up here ever again."

Before you have a chance to say anything, to protest or cry or thank him, Patrick's fingers wrap around your wrist and he pulls you behind himself. The next second you know it, you are stood outside the ballroom, in the dim light of the corridor.

He asks if you are okay, if you are hurt and when you shake you head no, a small smile stretches on his face. He looks you up and down, eyeing the stain on your dress, and it earns a shy look from you, knowing you look like an idiot at the moment. But Patrick is more concerned about your overall state instead of looks. He quickly shrugs off his suit jacket and places it over your shoulders, eager to offer you some comfort.

You don't even talk, too baffled by the gesture, absolutely not expecting it at all. Patrick smiles, kissing your forehead tenderly.