#Live Golding Reaction part 2....
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bunnygibson · 8 months ago
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when you're looking at a dead body but then you see your old man crush and have to expose your slut waist
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corroded-hellfire · 4 months ago
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Mad Love - Eddie Munson x Reader
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Summary: Eddie goes to visit Dustin at college and meets the Harley Quinn to his Joker at a Halloween party
Note: I had this idea because I needed a good Harley and Joker fix after watching the insane disappointment that was Joker 2.
Warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up), oral, m receiving, alcohol, Harley and Joker are crazy and so is Eddie so what do you expect
Words: 5k
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“The party is where?”
“It’s at a house on the edge of campus.”
“A frat house, Dustin. A frat house. How do you even know these guys?”
Dustin sighs and grabs his deerstalker hat.
“I’m tutoring one of the guys who lives there,” he says.
“And this isn’t just some prank?” Eddie asks, a brow raised in skepticism. “Cool frat bro asks his younger, nerdy tutor to come by his Halloween party?”
The shorter man scoffs and shakes his head. 
“Clay is a good guy,” Dustin defends. “You think I wouldn’t have been able to sniff out if he was some douchebag bully by now? My asshole detector is accurate, and you know it.”
“Fine.” Eddie picks his purple blazer up from where he laid it over the back of a chair. He slips his arms into it and adjusts it until it’s comfortable. “The music will probably be shit, though.”
“Look dude,” Dustin says, “you don’t have to come if you don’t want to. You can hang out in my dorm. Or one of the dining halls stays open pretty late. Grab some food.”
“Nope,” Eddie says with a shake of his head. His green-tinted curls sway with the motion. “I drove for hours to see your scrawny ass; I’m not going anywhere. Plus, I love Halloween parties.”
“Exactly how many have you been invited to before?” 
“Hey, I provided great party favors in high school. I was a welcome sight for the most part.”
“Doesn’t mean ‘invited’...” Dustin mumbles as he adjusts his Sherlock Holmes cloak.
Eddie hears him anyway and knocks the hat off his friend’s head before grabbing the bag of makeup he brought to complete his costume.
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Eddie’s first thought when he walks into the frat party is that it looks exactly like every college movie he’s ever seen. Red solo cups are in almost every hand, with a dozen or so already lost or discarded on the hardwood floor. The music is awful, as predicted, and despite the chilly October air, the room feels muggy because of all the bodies crammed inside. 
“I don’t know what half these costumes are supposed to be,” Eddie shouts over the thumping bass. 
Dustin shrugs in response and the two of them move farther into the room. The deeper into the crowd they get, and the more he looks around, the happier Eddie becomes that he came. Apparently, most college girls like to go for the “slutty” versions of costumes and Eddie can’t say that he minds one bit. A particular girl in a Princess Leia gold bikini catches his eye, but Dustin grabs his arm and drags him towards the stairs before he can even muster up a witty line to say to her.
“Why the fuck did I dress as a clown?” Eddie murmurs to himself. 
“Eddie!” Dustin shouts. “This is Clay!”
The older man’s immediate reaction is that this guy looks like a much taller and less douchey Jason Carver. He doesn’t exude the same sense of superiority and holier-than-thou-ness that the Hawkins High basketball player did. 
Clay offers his hand to Eddie with a smile.
“Nice to meet you,” he calls above the music. “Dustin has told me a lot about you.”
Eddie shoots Dustin a smirk, to which the faux Sherlock Holmes rolls his eyes. 
“Good to meet you, too,” Eddie says, shaking the man’s hand. 
“Keg’s over there,” Clay says, gesturing towards the front corner of the open area, “bathrooms upstairs. Have fun!”
“Thanks, man,” Dustin replies. 
Eddie feels like his head is on a swivel, looking in every direction at all the girls around him. He’s pretty sure he’s never been around this many girls in his life. 
“Come on, Joker,” Dustin says, patting his friend on the back. “Stop looking over your shoulder like Batman is gonna pop out at any second and let's go get a drink.”
“M’not looking for any man, dude,” Eddie says as they head towards the keg. “Besides, you’re not old enough to drink.”
“Ya know, for a villain, you’re pretty uptight. Especially for one who used to sell drugs.”
Eddie shrugs and swipes up a clean solo cup. He opens his mouth to reply as he takes another step towards the keg, but he’s cut off as he almost bumps into someone also going for the tap. 
“Whoa! Sorry there, Puddin’.”
Dark brown eyes go from his own black sneakers to black boots with red laces, scan up one red and one black pant leg, a long sleeve top with the colors on the opposite sides, and up to the prettiest face Eddie’s ever seen—even if there’s a black mask over her eyes. The cherry on top is the black and red jester hat with the small white cotton balls on the ends. 
“My apologies, darling,” Eddie croons, sketching a bow. “After you.”
The female clown giggles and shrugs her shoulders coyly. 
“Thanks, Mister J.” Her voice is sweet and clear, even above the noise of the party. 
Dustin doesn’t need to be dressed as Sherlock Holmes to figure out how Eddie is looking at this girl. The college freshman sees the way his friend’s eyes follow every move she makes as she fills her cup with beer. 
“I, uh, see a friend from my chem class,” Dustin says, shooting Eddie a sly smirk. “I’ll leave you clowns to it.” 
Eddie nods without really listening, eyes never leaving the red and black dream standing in front of him. Once her cup is filled, she steps aside so her villainous counterpart can take his turn. 
“Where you been hiding on me, huh?” Harley asks before taking a sip of her beer. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before. Then again, I guess the white paint and red lipstick could disguise anyone.”
“I could say the same to you.” Eddie nods to where she’s left a red lipstick stain on the rim of her solo cup. 
“Well, I do have to admit that I’m not quite as outgoing when I’m not hiding behind a pound of makeup and a mask.” 
“And I have to admit, I don’t actually go to school here.” Eddie winces before taking a large gulp from his own cup.
“It’s my lucky night, then!” She grins and reaches out, a red glove tugging on a purple lapel to bring him in closer. “Not here visiting a girlfriend, I hope?”
“Nah.” Eddie shakes his head as he leans into her space. “Visiting a nerdy freshman that I took under my wing last time he was a freshman.”
“Sherlock Holmes?” Harley asks. She tilts her head to the side and Eddie can’t help but smile at how it adorably skews her hat.
“That’s him.”
“That’s so cute!” 
The keg starts to gather a crowd, so the dynamic duo steps out of the way. Unfortunately, it’s closer to a speaker that has the music blaring in their faces.
“Outside?” Harley mouths, hitching her thumb over her shoulder towards the backyard.
Eddie nods and follows his fellow jester out into the crisp autumn night. Partygoers mingle in varying costumes, conversations able to be heard out here even over the thumping bass flooding out from the house. There aren’t any empty chairs or places to sit, so the pair decide to take a lap around the yard.
“What do you study?” Eddie asks as they walk side by side.
“Psychology,” she replies, giving a small dramatic bow that lets the white pom pom balls on the end of her hat shake back and forth.
“Ah,” Eddie says, raising his eyebrows. “Not just Harley Quinn then, we’ve got Dr. Harleen Quinzel herself.” 
“In the flesh,” she says with a cheeky shrug of her shoulders. “Or, well, in the clown suit and makeup, anyway. It’s my last year so I figured it’s time to go all out and have fun. Hence the costume.”
“And I just dress like this regularly,” Eddie jokes, adjusting his purple tie with his free hand. “I’m a natural green head, by the way. None of that dyed shit for me. It’s always so obvious when it’s fake.”
“It goes so well with your deathly pale complexion and naturally thick eyelined eyes,” she says, gesturing to his makeup. 
“Don’t forget the au naturale blood red lips,” Eddie adds, puckering them for emphasis. 
“Who could forget those lips?” Harley’s eyes darken as she speaks, her gaze drifting down to Eddie’s mouth before coming back up to meet his eyes. 
“God, it’s freezing out here,” a girl in a hula skirt and coconut bra complains as she hurries past the clowns with a friend, heading towards the door for the house. 
“I’m comfortable,” Harley says, stopping to do a twirl in between steps. “Have no idea why she could be so chilled! They call me crazy, but at least I know to be covered up outside in Indiana in October. Ah, but I suppose that would ruin the sexiness of her costume, wouldn’t it?”
“Well,” Eddie says, not hiding the fact that he’s looking her up and down. He figures he might as well shoot his shot. “You’re literally covered from head to toe, down to your fingertips, and you managed to be the sexiest one here tonight.”
It takes her a moment to recover from the unexpected compliment. Flirting? Okay, she was absolutely doing it too. But Eddie’s words warm her from within and she can feel the heat seeking its only outlet in this costume: her face. 
“Aha, but word on the street is that you’re crazy too, Mister J.”
“Maybe crazy, but not blind,” Eddie replies. 
She smiles and it makes Eddie’s heart stutter in his chest. 
Before Harley gets a chance to open her mouth and reply, the back door of the frat house busts open and a whole gaggle of drunken guys come spilling out. 
“Stupid boys,” Harley says, shaking her head. She looks back to Eddie and offers her hand, palm up. “Wanna go for a walk?”
“I’d be delighted.” Eddie’s white gloved hand takes her black gloved hand, and the two intertwine their fingers as they head to the side of the frat house, to walk around to the front.
There are still people streaming into the party. Cars are parked up and down the street and some are clearly circling the block to see where they might be able to squeeze in as well. 
Harley leads Eddie across the street and down a side road, away from the chaos of the party. 
“So,” she says once they’re far enough away to hear one another easily, “what’s your real name, Joker?”
“Eddie,” he tells her, giving her hand a soft squeeze. “What about you?”
She tells him her name and Eddie can’t help but think how pretty it is. 
“But tonight I’m Harley, cause she ain’t as shy as I am,” she says.
“I’m pretty sure Eddie is on the same level of outgoing-ness that Joker is, so I’m good with either,” he says, making her laugh. 
The two of them walk towards the heart of campus and come to the point where Eddie actually starts to recognize buildings.
“This is the student center, right?” he asks.
“Yep. The best place to get good on campus, just as a heads up.”
“I will definitely keep that in mind. My buddy says he mostly eats in the East dining hall cause it’s right in front of his dorm building,” Eddie explains.
“That’s the East dining hall right there,” Harley says, pointing to a long one-story building to their right.
“Which makes that Haynes Hall.” Eddie gestures to the looming brick building behind it. “That’s where I’m crashing.”
“Is that so?” 
The sultry, suggestive tone goes right to Eddie’s cock. 
“Would you, uh, like to see it?” he asks, tilting his head to the side with a small smile. 
“You know,” she says, leaning forward to rest her hands on the lapels of his purple blazer, “I lived there back when I was a freshman.”
Eddie feels his heart drop. Was he reading the signals wrong? If so, what does it mean that she has her hands on his chest right now?
“I’m curious to see how it changed over these past three years,” she finishes.
The grin on Eddie’s face is as wide as the one the fictional character he’s dressed up as usually sports. 
“Well, let’s not keep you in suspense any longer,” he says.
Harley gladly slips one of her hands into one of Eddie’s and tugs him in the direction of the twelve-story building. As soon as both of their pairs of black shoes are squeaking down the entryway hall down to the elevator, Harley gently pulls her hand away from Eddie’s to yank off the red and black gloves. The Joker follows suit with his own white ones, wanting to be able to hold her hand without any offending material in the way. 
Their fingers lace together as if it’s the most natural thing in the world for the pair of them, and Harley jabs the elevator up button with her thumb. The silver doors glide open and as soon as he’s inside, Eddie is pressing the button to Dustin’s floor with urgency, before switching to the button that closes the elevator doors. 
The moment the doors slide closed behind them, Eddie backs Harley up against the side wall of the elevator and cages her in by resting his arms against the litany of flyers that have been taped up on either side of her head. Her black mask slowly starts to slip down her nose as she gazes up at him. Eddie lowers his head to hers, his mouth only a breath away. A cheerful ding letting them know they’re on the right floor interrupts the almost-kiss.
Her eagerness is clear with the harsh tug she gives Eddie’s arm to lead him out of the elevator and down the thinly carpeted hall. 
“Uh, 802,” Eddie says, scanning the room numbers of every door they pass.
“Oops,” Harley says with a giggle. “We’re going the wrong way.” She does a clumsy attempt at a ballet spin to turn one-eighty degrees and face the other end of the hall. 
As soon as Eddie starts to think that they’re never going to find this goddamn room, they turn a corner and skid to a halt in front of the correct door. Eddie digs the extra key that Dustin gave him out of his pocket and slips it into the lock.
The moment they’re inside, Eddie is fumbling for the light since he doesn’t know the layout and can’t blindly lead her to the bed. The last thing he needs is either of them tripping on some textbook and breaking an arm. 
Dustin’s bed is pushed against the right side of the wall and Eddie already makes a mental note to beg his younger friend’s forgiveness as he’s either disinfecting or burning the sheets later. Speaking of said younger friend…
Eddie doesn’t have the time or inkling to go digging through Dustin’s drawers to find a sock to hang on the doorknob, so he kicks off his sneakers and yanks at his black socks. One gets tossed to the cluttered floor while Eddie opens the dorm door and puts the other on the doorknob. The universal sign that you better come back later—even if this is your room. 
Now Eddie can return his attention to the one place he’d like to keep it tonight: the beautiful jester in front of him. 
“Why don’t you take a seat, Puddin’?” Harley coos, patting the edge of the mattress. 
He sits down where she instructed and is rewarded with the sight of her kneeling on the floor between his spread legs. Eddie drops one of Dustin’s pillows down on the floor—since the bedding is all going to need to be taken care of anyway—and she gives the man above her a grateful smile.
Bare hands work at the belt holding the purple pants up and Eddie can’t keep his eyes off of them. He admires how soft and smooth they look as her fingers nimbly work. She then pops open his fly and drags down the zipper. Eddie lifts his hips and together the two of them push the pants and his boxers down his thighs. His cock springs free, already hard and begging to be touched. Her eyes immediately land on the precum beading at the head and she licks over her lips eagerly. A soft hum from the back of her throat is the only warning Eddie gets before she takes his length in her hand and immediately begins licking up the side of his shaft. 
Eddie’s head drops back with a low groan. One hand falls to the mattress beside him while the other gently rests on the crown of her jester hat. When she takes the head of his cock in her mouth, Eddie clenches the comforter that his hand is resting on in his fist.
“Fuck,” Eddie moans. He tilts his chin forward to look down at the sexy supervillain sucking his dick. The bright red lipstick leaves a ring around Eddie’s cock that he never wants to wash off. He watches her go deeper and deeper each time, the crimson smears getting closer to the dark patch of hair at his base. 
When her head begins to pick up speed, bobbing up and down, Eddie knows he needs to stop her before the real fun begins. Gently, he presses against her shoulder, which she is able to interpret and pulls her mouth off his cock with a pop. She looks up at him and her black eye makeup has smeared, smudging beneath her eyes and dark tear trails carving a path down the white face paint—all with the mask still in place. 
“You’re too good at that,” Eddie tells her with a breathy chuckle.
“Good thing you stopped me, or I would’ve just kept going,” she says, laying her head down on his thighs and looking up at him with eyes shiny from tears. “And where would the fun be in that?”
“Exactly, darling.” 
Eddie helps her up from the floor and she takes a seat on the bed next to him. She watches his every motion as he stands to kick his pants and boxers all the way off. Once he’s finished, she turns so her back is facing him.
“Would you mind unzipping me?” she asks.
“Not one bit.” Eddie leans in and presses a kiss to the side of her neck, which causes a shiver to go down her spine as Eddie drags the pull tab in that same direction. 
Harley stands and kicks her boots off before shimmying the bodysuit costume down her frame. Eddie’s eyes make sure to capture every last detail of the reveal. With every new area of skin that’s exposed, it becomes his new favorite. The black lace bra and red lace panties make him chuckle.
“Even in the right colors down to that sinful underwear,” he remarks. 
“Thought it was only fitting,” she says with the shrug of one shoulder. She kneels down on the bed and leans forward, working on popping open the buttons, first, on the yellow vest beneath the blazer, and then the mint green shirt below that. “Didn’t think that anyone was actually gonna see me like this tonight, so that makes for a nice surprise.” 
“Didn’t think you’d be hooking up with someone with clown makeup on?” Eddie teases as he shrugs out of all his top layers.
“I could ask you the same question, Mister J.”
“Mm,” Eddie hums as he slips his arm around her waist and lowers her down to the mattress. “So we’ll be naked, just clowns from the neck up.”
“You’re already naked,” Harley muses, her eyes running up and down his bare form as he crawls on top of her. “Least you can do is make it even.”
A sound suspiciously close to a growl rumbles from Eddie’s throat before he speaks.
“Gladly.”
She arches her back, and Eddie counts his blessings when he’s able to unhook her bra fairly easily. He helps her get it off her arms and throw it somewhere in the dorm to be found later. Next, she lifts her hips off the mattress and Eddie is able to free her of her panties in one fell swoop. 
Calloused fingers run up the outside of soft thighs before he lets them trail down to the part most aching for his touch.
Harley feels on edge—his hand is so close and he can’t move it fast enough. A desperate whimper tumbles from her lips and Eddie can’t help but find it adorably endearing. 
“P-Please, Eddie,” she whines. 
“I’ve got you, baby,” Eddie croons. His fingers travel down farther, and she automatically drops her legs open wider for him. A thick middle finger slides down and up her slit. “Fuck, you’re soaked.”
“Want you so bad,” is the only thing she can get out, through a hoarse wispy voice. 
“Is my Harley Quinn all needy? Hmm?” Eddie’s voice is soft and slow as his middle finger slides up and presses against her clit. 
“Yes!” Her hands grip at Eddie’s upper arms and her eyes practically roll back in her head as he rubs tight circles against her sensitive nub. “Yes, Puddin’. Need you so bad.” 
“Tell me what you need,” Eddie purrs.
“You,” Harley whimpers. “Your cock.”
“Whatever my partner in crime wants.” Eddie smirks as he positions his body on top of hers and guides his cock to her entrance. He moves slowly and she feels every inch as he pushes inside of her. 
“Feels so good,” she whimpers, reaching up to hold on to some part of him.
“Tell me how good, baby.”
“M’so full,” she whines, hands moving higher so her fingers tangle in his green-tinted locks. “You’re so fucking big.”
Eddie’s hips pick up the pace, building a steady rhythm that makes the mattress below them squeak. Neither can hear over the sound of their labored breathing, though. 
Using her grip on his hair, Harley pulls Eddie’s face down to hers and smashes their mouths together. Their lips meld together and tongues dance with one another, only adding to the intense pleasure. A particularly hard thrust of Eddie’s hips has them moaning into one another’s mouths. When the kiss breaks, Eddie buries his head into her neck while Harley’s breaths become even more shallow.
“Jesus Christ, you’re so fucking tight,” he growls against her skin. “Feels goddamn perfect.”
Fingers tighten in Eddie’s hair in response, and the man isn’t able to hold back a guttural groan when she gives a small tug on the strands. 
“Someone likes his hair being pulled,” Harley murmurs.
Eddie pulls back and looks down at her. He opens his mouth to respond but breaks into strangled laughter before any words can come out.
“W-What?” she asks.
“I had some witty retort questioning if you like your hair pulled, but I can’t even see your hair because of that adorable fucking hat.”
Harley lets out a soft giggle and shakes her head from side to side so the white pom poms on the end of the sides wiggle all over the place.
“How are you so goddamn sexy and insanely cute at the same time?” Eddie asks, a breathy laugh of his own coming out as his hips keep up their punishing pace. 
“Mm, well, insane comes with the territory.” She grins and Eddie can’t help but dive back in to press his lips to her again. The red lipstick each of them is wearing smears to combine a shade of red that’s a compromise of both hues. 
“Can I take your mask off?” Eddie asks against her lips.
“Please.”
Eddie balances himself hovering over her body before he reaches up with one hand and takes the small black mask off her face. He gently tosses it to land on top of the costume in a heap on the floor before focusing on her face. It’s still covered in white makeup with black tear tracks, but he can see much more clearly what she looks like underneath the whole Harley Quinn getup and it makes him smile. 
“Beautiful,” he says, not even realizing he said it aloud at first. 
“Not so bad yourself, gorgeous,” Harley says, giving him a wink. 
A minor tilt of Eddie’s hips has his cock hitting just the right spot to make her see stars. A mix between a gasp and a moan erupts from her throat as her hands move to grab Eddie’s upper arms. Her fingers curl into his triceps and her eyes fall shut at the immense pleasure of Eddie’s cock repeatedly brushing that perfect spot.
“Holy shit,” she gasps. 
“Good, baby?” Eddie coos.
“Uh huh,” she mumbles, forehead crinkling as her mouth falls open in awe. “God, right there, Eddie.”
He doesn’t need to be told twice. Eddie drills his hips into hers, his eyes boring down at hers as she blinks them open.
Face still scrunched up in ecstasy, Harley stares right back up at Eddie. The combination of him hitting that spot over and over again mixed with the intimacy of the intense eye contact creates a familiar tightening in her lower abdomen.
“Eddie, I’m gonna—fuck, I’m gonna come.”
“That’s it,” Eddie rasps. “Come on my cock, sweetheart.” He reaches down and rubs her clit in time with his thrusts into her. 
The friction is just what she needs to send her over the edge. Her back arches off the back, pressing her breasts into Eddie’s chest, and she lets out the most beautiful moans that Eddie’s ever heard as the wave of pleasure crashes over her. 
The clenching of her already tight pussy around Eddie’s cock has him spilling into her seconds later. His thrusts are sloppy and desperate, but it sends a warm pleasant feeling over Harley as she comes down from her high. 
Once Eddie is spent, he rests his forehead against hers. The face paint on both of them has smeared and smudged, now runny from sweat. They just gaze at one another as they attempt to catch their breaths.
“God, that was good.” She finally breaks the silence. 
“So fucking good,” Eddie agrees. He leans down and presses another kiss to her lips before rolling to the side and plopping down next to her. 
There’s a silence between them that has the potential to turn awkward, but they turn their heads to look at one another at the same time, and they both burst out in laughter.
“Do I look as funny as you do?” Harley asks, reaching up and smearing some of the white paint on his cheek.
“I’m afraid so,” Eddie replies with a nod. 
“What a couple of clowns we are.”
Eddie snorts a laugh and brings his hands up to cover his face. When he pulls them away, they’re covered in white and red smears. Harley goes to lift her own hands to her face but stops halfway and lets out a soft squeal that turns into laughter.
“What? What is it?” Eddie asks.
She can’t stop laughing, so she turns her hands to show they’re now green from the coloring in his hair. 
“Oh damn,” Eddie says, starting to laugh himself. “I’d say we’re in need of a shower.”
Harley turns on her side to face him and props her head up on her elbow.
“The bathrooms in this dorm aren’t co-ed,” she says. “Buuuut I also know that no one really gives a shit.”
“Dr. Quinzel, are you proposing we shower together?” He widens his eyes in fake shock. 
“As long as you lend me something to wear afterwards, Puddin,” she croons, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips. “I can’t exactly go around looking like this.”
“Looks good to me,” Eddie says with a smirk, which earns him a playful swat on the chest. “Even with the hat.”
“Oh my God, I can’t believe I’m still wearing this thing,” she says with a laugh.
“May I?” Eddie gestures towards the jester cap.
“Go for it.”
Eddie undoes the strap that was holding the black and red hat in place and gently removes it from her head. He can’t help but give a goofy grin now that he sees every part of her—except the clear skin of her face. 
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere, Mister J.”
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After both clowns have shed their makeup and are squeaky clean, Eddie lends her an oversized hoodie and she pulls her panties back on. Eddie changes into a pair of pajamas he packed with him. 
He takes a step over to the bed now that he’s freshly dressed and winces when he sees the sheets. The navy-colored fabric is smeared with white face paint, red lipstick, and black eye makeup—not to mention other spots and stains that Eddie doesn’t even want to think about Dustin finding. 
He makes quick work of yanking all the bedding off and shoving it into Dustin’s hamper. Clean? Burn? Both? Eddie’s not sure, but he’s leaning towards the fiery option. If the situations were reversed, Eddie would not want to be sleeping on these sheets ever again. 
“Say, partner in crime.” Eddie sidles up next to her and wraps his arm around her waist. “Want to destroy some property with me? Quick question though…is it only arson if it’s a building or does it count for lighting anything ablaze?”
“We can just ask the cops when they arrest us,” she says with a shrug. “I’m sure they’ll know. Or maybe it’ll be Batman who gets us!”
The response makes Eddie chuckle. He leans in, cupping her clean, clear face in both hands and presses his lips against hers. The two of them get caught in the moment, mouths moving fervently, when there’s a voice outside the dorm door.
“Oh, you’ve got to be shitting me. This asshole doesn’t get laid the entirety of high school, but now it happens in my room? God damn it, Munson. Stranded out in the hallway as Sherlock fucking Holmes. Just perfect.”
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leviathans-watching · 2 years ago
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omg i love your work!! if posisble, can you do a part 2 to touching their wings and stuff with the dateables or maybe other characters? thank you and take care :D
touching their tails/horns/etc. pt 2
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includes: diavolo, barbatos, simeon, mephisto, raphael x/& gn!reader (no pronouns mentioned)
wc: .5k | rated t | m.list | pt 1
a/n: i took a lot of creative liberties with this one, either because their forms haven't been revealed or just because i wanted to so just assume most of this is not canon at all lol
please reblog and like <33
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➳ diavolo laughs as you poke at the gilded ends of his wings, taking in the intricate design. “it’s real gold,” he says before you can ask, gesturing to the tips of his horns, “as are these. it’s a birth present to children of our family, laced with magic that let’s it grow and change along with is. it’s a symbol of our wealth, our status.” you reach up to touch his horns, and he leans into your touch, happy to let you explore as you wish. “sometimes i think they’re a bit much, and then i remember who i am,” he continues, and you chuckle, making him laugh again too.
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➳ barbatos’ tail twitches as you run your hand along it, obviously surprised by the texture. “that feels good,” he says mildly, and you give him a grin, twisting the end of each forked part between your fingers gently. if it keeps you occupied he’s happy to let you play with his tail for as long as you want. only because of that, obviously. not because he can’t remember the last time, if ever, someone’s touched him like this. or because your touch is soothing something inside of him he hadn’t known needed soothed.
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➳ mephisto bows his head for you, letting you feel over the nubs where his horns should have been. “they never grew in quite properly,” he explains, sighing as you scratch gently at his scalp around them, “which is why i don’t often reveal my demon form. it’s a bit embarrassing, isn’t it? of course, my parents offered to have false horns inset, and lord diavolo knows we had the money for it, but, well, that just sounded like a bother.” you press your fingers to hs head, eyes steady, and he’s glad to see you’re not thinking of him any differently.
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➳ raphael unfurls his wings, and you catch your breath. he’s often been told that his wings are beautiful, richly colored like a peacock’s, and your reaction goes on to support that opinion. “you can touch, if you’d like,” he offers, and you don’t hesitate, burying your fingers in the downy feathers near where they connect to his back. his head falls back, and a quiet peace goes over the two of you as you stroke your way from base to wing tip, then back, soothing actions putting him on the verge of sleep.
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➳ simeon wakes up to the feel of your touch on his wing, soft and hesitant. sometime during the night, he’d transformed into his angel form, wings splayed out and over the bed, almost covering the whole thing in their enormity. they certainly cover you, like a warm, live, down blanket. he twitches instinctively, and you pull your hands back. “no, no,” he says sleepily, “you can keep going. it feels good when you touch me.” he sees you smile and smiles too, even though he’s already being lured back into sleep by your soft strokes across the top of his wing, where the feathers are smooth and packed together.
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leviathans-watching's work - please do not copy, repost, or claim as your own
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justiceforvillains · 6 months ago
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❋ Drabbles/Ideas
───────────♡̆̈─────────────
➽ Bangchan
The Pretender (Mafia Au)
Rough Sex with Chan (Smut)
Wolf Hybrid Collage AU (Suggestive)
Messed with the wrong man (Mafia Chan / Thief reader AU)
Fuckboy Chan / Virgin reader    Chapter 1
Filming you while riding him (Smut)
Sugar Daddy Bangchan (Fluff)
Burglar Bangchan (Smut)
Vampire Bangchan
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➽ Lee Minho
Hitman Minho (Fluff)
Cuddling with Minho (Fluff)
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➽ Seo Changbin
Married Staff member crush (Fluff/Angst?)
Injured Hybrid Changbin (Fluff/Angst?)
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➽ Hwang Hyunjin
Meeting Scary Vampire Hyunjin {Part 2} {Part 3} [How it's like living with vampire Hyunjin]
Misunderstood
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➽ Han Jisung
Cuddling with Hannie  Continuation  
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➽ Lee Felix (Yongbok)
Cuddling with Felix
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➽ Kim Seungmin
Prank wars Gone Wrong (Wholesome)
Dog Hybrid Seungmin (Fluff)
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➽ Yang Jeongin
Toxic Fuckboy Jeongin (Angst)
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❋ Reactions
───────────♡̆̈─────────────
How Would SKZ Hyung Line give Oral
Stray Kids Hyung Line Reaction to you Wearing nothing but a hoodie with their name on it
Stray Kids Hyung Line Minus Hyunjin Reaction: asking them to Teach you how to masturbate
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❋ Fake Texts
───────────♡̆̈─────────────
He Calls you a Gold Digger : Bangchan & Minho Version [Part 2]
Accidental Confession in the wrong Group Chat : Lee Know
Roommates with Felix & Seungmin Version
Enemies to "Maybe" Lovers 👀: Seungmin [Part 2]
Idol Star X YouTube Star SMAU: Felix
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
❋ Requests/Ask Game
How about you tell me your favorite trope, about which memeber and what genre you want it to be and I'll respond by writing a small paragraph?
───────────♡̆̈─────────────
Enemies to lovers Seungmin (Angst)
Soulmates AU Jeongin (Extremely Angst)
Soulmate AU Mafia Bangchan (Fantasy/Fluff)
You fell first but he fell harder Minho (Smut)
One Bed trope Hyunjin (Fluff)
Vampire / Vampire Hunter (Fluff)
All Headers & Dividers were made by the talented — - @saradika-graphics
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crispy-armpit · 2 years ago
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✧ 𝖇𝖎𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖘𝖙 𝖋𝖆𝖓 ✧
ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ʀᴏᴄᴋꜱᴛᴀʀ x ɪᴅᴏʟ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ
☆⋆。🎧𖦹 °✩ 🎸⋆⸜♩ - PART 2
⭒ 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: 𝘢𝘵 𝘢 𝘴𝘰𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘶𝘮𝘱 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘶𝘱-𝘢𝘯𝘥-𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳-𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘳, 𝘋𝘦𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘴. 𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘥𝘶𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘩; 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺.
⭒ 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵: 𝘨𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, (𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘥)𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧-𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘮/𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 (𝘯𝘰𝘵 on 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳), 𝘬𝘯𝘪𝘧𝘦, 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥, 𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘨𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘶𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴, 𝘫𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘰𝘯𝘦-𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘺, 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘮 + 𝘴𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘮(?)
⭒ 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 1,420
⭒ a/n: my first story! hope this is satisfactory :) sorry if my writing is difficult to understand or cringy!!
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will you venture down this path?
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every few months your manager tells you to attend a celebrity fundraiser gala. 2 years ago you'd never know that these events were only breeding grounds for filthy scandals. now here you are, standing in the corners of a dark ballroom with stars dangling from the ceiling.
you are an idol, the embodiment of purity and song. another puppet forced to take on a false persona of endless joy, most would say. but you? you actually loved the spotlight. to you, that persona is your truth. you bathe in the attention and love of others, you live for it.
so why weren't you with the crowd? why not be in the centre of it all? it's because he was there. he was stealing the place you've shed blood, sweat, and tears for with such ease. effortlessly charming everyone even with that poker face. Deimos. a miracle rockstar who rose in fame shortly after your debut. instantly landing himself in the top #5 leaderboard after the release of his first album.
you were both from the same agency. you've seen him around the company building a couple of times, more frequently during your early pre-debut years. you'd pass brief glances at each other whenever you crossed paths in the hallways or practice rooms. you couldn't understand where your anger and envy emerged from despite never talking to him before.
maybe it was his obnoxious grin?
the fact he surpassed your fame within a shorter time?
his voice that hypnotises even you?
or the copious amount of money he sends during your ig live, begging you to notice the anonymous user?
he had shorter hair back then, dyed a different colour. now he has more accessories, a bigger build, longer hair, and dull eyes that only seemed to brighten whenever you catch him staring at you. you noticed he still stood at around 6'5 (195 cm), even taller with his black platform boots.
you'd try to send telepathic brain frequencies and (not so) intimidating glares at him, seeing if his blank face would falter (it didn't). instead, it made him glance in your direction. your frustration increases, and you blow a raspberry at him without thinking clearly... his reaction? an amused smirk.
instant embarrassment rises to your head. unable to handle the atmosphere inside the room, you immediately run out into the hallway. your brain begins to fuzz up, and you're not thinking clearly- you don't know if it's from the alcohol or the pure shame of blowing a raspberry at him. what are you? a preschooler?
blind to your surroundings, you don't notice the hulking figure walking towards you at full speed. calming yourself, you turn back to the ballroom to end the night. only to bump your face into a sturdy chest, that was not so covered by the tight, black button-up shirt of your rival (his nips were barely out).
you profusely apologise to the stranger until you look up to meet the heterochromatic eyes of Deimos. black and gold with slits, like a feline. and like a feline, his presence was threatening. this was the closest you've ever been to him and you can't help but think that people are blind. why do people crowd around him like he's an oasis? the way his eyes lit up a little too bright, and his face contorts into that of a devoted lover brought no comfort to you.
why does he look like that?
"y/n," he finally pants out, "y/n... you're looking at me."
what the fuck?
"i'm your biggest fan."
backing up uncomfortably, you slowly process his words before replying.
"...you are?"
if Deimos had a tail, it'd be wagging like crazy right now.
"yeah... i've been a fan since your performance at the spring festival. not sure if you remember but..." he trails off.
the spring festival? i don't remember going to any spri- holy shit.
3 years ago. you sang a duet at the town's spring festival with a friend, back then you weren't even a trainee yet. so how coincidental is it that the Deimos was watching you from somewhere in the crowd? that you both ended up in the same agency?
wait. does this mean.... Deimos adores me? as a fan? my fan?
this was too good to be true. your rival, the hottest star among stars, absolutely smitten by you? claiming to be your fan? your ego has never been higher. you decide to indulge him with a conversation.
surprisingly, the conversation was deeply meaningful. you found common interests with him- you shared favourite songs, media, and hobbies... "woman after my own heart," he snickers. soon, any past resentment towards him just.. washes away. gone, buried.
you naturally gravitate towards each other, like the earth and the apple from a tree, a pull. how long has it been since you've enjoyed talking to someone like this? has your bitter envy prevented you from forming a raw friendship with him all this time?
it feels surreal. he asks you for an autograph to commemorate the celebration of a blooming friendship and you agree, asking him if he had a pen and paper. he chuckles and says no, opting to whisk you away into an empty room. not creepy at all.
inside the room, he sits you down on the bed and searches his pockets for an object. you grow curious until he unsheathes out... a combat knife. shitshitshit- he's going to kill me! i knew this was suspicious-
he casually offers you the blade.
"use this." he says while untucking his shirt.
you stare at him as he had grown a second head, "...what?"
he nonchalantly replies while displaying his lower right abdomen, "to write? y'know, your autograph?"
it's official. you were absolutely fucking terrified of Deimos. he tells you to carve out your name on his body as if he was asking for a pack of ketchup at mcdonalds!! you were getting queasy, mind running though all the possible scenarios and options to get out of this.
"you not backing up now are you, songbird?"
his eyes bear holes into your body.
"c'mon, you can't leave me in the edge me like this... just...."
he gently grabs your wrist that held the knife, carefully guiding it to his abdomen. being touched so softly by his scarred, calloused hands made your breathing ragged. he lovingly rubs stars into your forearms as he lightly plunges the tip of the knife into his skin.
you could stab him. you could stab his knife deep into his chest and run away. but what would that mean for you in the future? if you got caught, your career would crumble, sentenced to jail, humiliated and resented by the public. and if you did get away with it, guilt would eat away at your blood-soaked hands forever.
Deimos notices your visible discomfort and tenderly caresses your hair down to your cheeks, wiping away tears you didn't know you had shed. "shh shh... i'm sorry, so so sorry, songbird. you're so kind for not wanting to hurt me... i'll never ask again after this, alright? claim me."
he was so charming. even in this situation.
he presses the knife further into his lower abdomen, drawing blood. you gasp, stuttering out your words "...just my initial, okay?" you look up, he seems disappointed but gives you a genuine smile and nods. you put more pressure onto the hilt of the knife this time, his skin bleeds, not enough to be fatal but enough to scar.
you place your other hand on his toned waist, and you can feel him shivering as the ends of his hair trickle the crown of your head. you finish carving out your initial, dropping the knife on the ground and backing up to look at your work.
it was messy, the blood dripped down to his pants and you swore you felt your heart get... t i n g l e s? he proudly admires your work, pulling down his shirt back in place, still untucked.
Deimos kneels down at the edge of the bed, taking your hands and cupping them on his cheeks. turning his head to tenderly kiss your palm and inhale in the scent.
he looks up at you adoringly with the widest smile on his face, "thank you, songbird. it's very pretty." pulling himself closer to your face, you exchange an unexpectedly passionate kiss, in which your reciprocate. hungry for any form of comfort.
rival-turned-biggest-fan, Deimos smirks into the kiss.
the gravitational pull.
4K notes · View notes
missnxthingg · 5 months ago
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𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬, 𝑭𝑹𝑶𝑴 𝑨𝑳𝑳 𝑭𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑪𝑶𝑹𝑵𝑬𝑹𝑺 𝑶𝑭 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑳𝑫 . (𝑺𝑴𝑨𝑼 𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑰𝑶𝑵) - 𝐹𝐼𝑉𝐸 (𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑜𝑛𝑒)
𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆 - We're close to an ending, I'm so sad 😭 Also, another big one, so don't forget to check part two and the original chapter!
original chapter | series masterlist | main masterlist | taglist | pt 2
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yourusername
Zandvoort, Netherlands
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yourusername Back to travelling the world! The stroopwafles were way too delicious 😋
username1 You're so effortlessly beautiful
username2 the comms queen is back! we missed you, y/n
landonorris save me a stroopwafel
↪yourusername you ate all that i had 🥺 ↪landonorris ooops sorry 🫣 ↪username3 he's so unhinged, i can't
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f1gossip
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f1gossip After spending summer break together, Lando Norris and Y/N L/N were seen very cosy in McLaren's garage in Zandvoort. Even though they've been best friends for years, they always prefered to not show any affection for each other during work to keep it professional. Do you guys think anything has changed?
username1 It's obvious that they've been together since Miami
↪username2 pretty rich of her to only get with him after he started winning ↪username3 A gold digger, that's for sure ↪username1 I didn't comment this for you weirdos to come and hate on Y/N. She's the sweetest and Lando really loves her.
username4 god, i hope they really are together 🥺 just look at lando's summer break pics, they absolutely love each other
↪username5 and let's pray that if they are together, that they will share it with us. so many love them together, but i think they'll keep it very private ↪username6 Lando always did that to keep Y/N and Ollie safe. He knows how things work when you're famous
username7 I'M SO READY FOR THIS
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oscarpiastri added to their close friends' stories
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Caption: I don't think that's very professional 👀
↪yourusername replied to your story: I'M GOING TO KILL YOU
↪oscapiastri: it's on close friends ↪yourusername: one small mistake and this would've been up the internet. as a friend AND pr, i would've murdered you ↪oscarpiastri: sorry, y/n
↪landonorris replied to your story: send it to me, mate
↪oscarpiastri: you had a better reaction them y/n ↪oscarpiastri: sending it
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landonorris
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landonorris Yup 🏆 More like it
tagged: yourusername
yourusename I love you, my race winner ❤ what a statement today!
↪landonorris I love you more
username1 THIS IS THE HARDEST LAUNCH OF ALL HARD LAUNCHES
username2 FUCKING FINALLY
username3 We lived to see Lando kissing Y/N right after winning with a 22 second gap in Max's home race 🥺
↪usename4 honestly, i don't think life can get any better than this
maxfewtrell Proper job this weekend brother. Put your shirt back on and stop being indecent with Y/N
↪maxfewtrell (I'm happy for you two, btw) ↪yourusername We love you, Maxie ❤ ↪landonorris Thanks, mate
username4 Gold digger 💀
↪username1 Stop it, we're not gonna let you ruin this for them ↪username2 you clearly don't know anything about them, so fuck off!
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yourusername
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yourusername Since he decided to give you hardest launch, here are some pics from the most amazing weekend of the year ❤ Proud of you, my love
tagged: landonorris
oscarpiastri Does this means that I can freely post pictures of you two on my stories?
↪yourusername NO ↪username1 YOU KNEW? ↪oscarpiastri Everybody and their mother knew
landonorris You make me the happiest ❤ I love you so much
↪yourusername I love you more ↪landonorris Impossible
username2 STOP THEY ARE SO CUTE
username3 mother, now feed us with all the unseen pics of you as a couple
↪yourusername Incoming...
username4 Don't you think that's a bit unprofessional? She's literally wearing a McLaren uniform
↪username5 They have always kept things professional while on the paddock, and clearly this doesn't affect his race results ↪username6 I know someone said it before, but we will not tolerate this type of comment about their relationship. Lando loves her and she loves him. Period.
username7 all of our dreams literally came true 🥺 i'm so happy
↪username8 us lando stans have never been so happy to see our boy happy
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landofan
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landofan Since they finally told everyone about their relationship, we rescued some pictures of Lando and Y/N (and Ollie) through the years. We're so happy to finally see them together ❤ We also want to take the opportunity to say that we fully support this relationship and that we'll not tolerate hate comments towards Y/N. It's clear that she makes Lando very happy and that this is very special to them.
tagged: landonorris, yourusername
username1 THEY HAVE ALWAYS BEEN THE CUTEST
username2 i swear they are going to have the prettiest family in the future
username3 I need a wedding and thousands of kids from them
yoursername Thank you so much for the message! It means a lot to me (and also, the cute baby Ollie pics, ty for bringing them back to me).
↪landofan OMG! tysm queen ❤ we love you together and we'll always have your back
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⋘ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 // 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 ⋙
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aventurineswife · 4 months ago
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“Both your hands in the hole of my sweater” | Part 2
Summary: While your partner was away on a work trip, you, as their beloved partner, spent the time knitting them a sweater. Upon their return, they’re met with the surprise of a handmade gift.
Tags: Dan Heng x Reader, Robin x Reader, Argenti x Reader, Topaz x Reader, Numby Fluff, Knitting Sweater for them, Domestic Fluff, Handmade Gifts, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, Soft Moments, Fluff and Comfort, Found Family Vibes, Tender Moments, Gift Giving, Wholesome Fluff.
Part 1, Part 3
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Dan Heng
You spent hours knitting a dark blue sweater for Dan Heng, mirroring the serene, star-streaked nights you both spent watching on the Astral Express. When he finally returned from his trip, he was tired and stoic as always, but his eyes softened at the sight of your gift.
“It’s… for me?” he asked, voice almost a whisper. His fingers brushed the yarn as if it might dissolve under his touch. A faint smile crept onto his usually impassive face. “Thank you.” he murmured, slipping it on over his usual tunic. It fit him perfectly, cozy yet just snug enough.
In a rare moment of vulnerability, he glanced at you and said, “I’ll wear it often. It reminds me of… home.” And for once, he seemed truly at peace, holding onto a warmth beyond the fabric.
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Robin
You chose a soft, lilac-colored yarn, matching the hues of Robin’s cascading hair. As she entered the room upon her return, you presented her with the delicate sweater you’d knitted, woven with a gentle star pattern around the sleeves.
“Oh, it’s beautiful!” she gasped, green eyes bright with genuine joy as she ran her fingers over the intricate stitches. She slipped it on, twirling gracefully, the fabric flowing in tune with her elegance.
“It feels like a comforting hug, a piece of home I can carry wherever I go.” she whispered. She then looked at you with a teary smile, touched beyond words. “I’ll treasure it always… and sing a song of gratitude just for you.”
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Argenti
You chose a deep crimson for Argenti’s sweater, with golden accents reminiscent of his armor—warm, rich colors that represented both his valor and the beauty he saw in the world. When he returned, you offered it to him, suddenly unsure if he’d appreciate something so simple.
But Argenti’s reaction was instant and profound. He took the sweater from your hands with reverence, tracing each stitch as if it were a masterpiece. His eyes shone with admiration and something deeper, something devoted. “This… you made this?” His voice was soft, his usual confidence tempered by awe.
“Such dedication,” he whispered, studying the gentle waves and patterns in the fabric. “To think, each thread was woven by your hands… It holds a beauty unmatched by jewels or stars.” He slipped it over his armor, the fabric draping him like it had been crafted by divine hands. He looked down at it, then back at you, eyes filled with a rare vulnerability.
“You’ve taken the simplest of things—yarn and time—and turned them into something… extraordinary,” he murmured, as if still in disbelief. “Your love is in every fiber, every loop.” He placed his hand over his heart. “It’s not just a gift; it’s an embodiment of beauty, pure and true. I will wear it always, a reminder that true art is made with care, and beauty lives in all that we cherish.”
Stepping close, he took your hands in his. “Thank you, my love,” he whispered, his voice trembling slightly. “In this, I see the beauty of our bond—a beauty I am worthy of, but one I vow to honor with all that I am.”
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Topaz
For Topaz, you picked a rich, ruby-red yarn with accents of gold—a color as bold as her spirit. When she returned, you handed her the sweater without fanfare, but she gasped, eyes widening in surprised delight.
“You knitted this? For me?” she exclaimed, and she held it up to her chest as if imagining how it would feel. She quickly put it on, looking down with a satisfied smile. “Perfect fit.” she grinned.
“You’re really thoughtful, you know that?” she said with a chuckle, but her eyes sparkled with genuine appreciation. She gave you a light punch on the shoulder. “Guess this means I owe you one, huh?”
!BONUS!
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Numby
You'd had a feeling Numby might be a little more difficult to knit for. They were small, always moving around Topaz’s side, eager and full of energy, sniffing out anything they thought held value. Still, you thought they deserved something cozy and sweet—a little sweater that would match Topaz’s.
When they finally noticed the tiny, bright red sweater you'd carefully made, Numby froze. At first, they sniffed at it cautiously, circling it as if trying to understand why you’d given them this odd little garment. You knelt down, coaxing them closer with a gentle hand. "Here, Numby, I made this just for you."
After a moment of contemplation, they gave a small, excited hop and nudged their head against your hand, as if in understanding. Gently, you slipped the sweater over them, adjusting it so the red bowtie around their neck still peeked out, like a cheerful splash of color against the new warmth.
Numby made a little trill, hopping in a tiny circle as they took in their new attire in curiosity and delight. They looked over at Topaz as if to say; Look what I have now!
You couldn't help but laugh as they bounced around happily, shaking with joy. For a creature that usually hunted treasure, Numby seemed to consider this simple sweater a rare and precious find, something even more valuable because it was given with care.
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thecordelialetters · 1 year ago
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She's my Angel: Meet the Family Pt.2 I Five Hargreeves x Reader
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⋆。‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧。⋆⋆。‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧。⋆⋆。‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧。⋆⋆。‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧。⋆⋆。‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧。⋆⋆。‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧。⋆⋆。‧˚
Post Apocalypse Au! pt.1 Pt2 Pt3
WC: ~2,709
Warnings/Tags: fluff, Allusions to sex, Mentions of Abuse, Agedup!Five, Mentions of previous trauma
Summary: The Umbrella Academy saved the world, the Commission is no longer after them, the moon is in one piece and everyone’s lives start to fall back into place. Five attempts to start his life over again when Klaus brings home a girl with unusual shadow powers.
⋆。‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧。⋆⋆。‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧。⋆⋆。‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧。⋆⋆。‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧。
Five and you had fallen into a comfortable rhythm that one would think the two of you had known each other for years. You started sleeping in the same bed together, getting ready together, eating together, and spending time together. Your routine had started to fall into place.
Somedays Five would ask you to show him your abilities. He was always astounded at how powerful you were. You could use shadows to teleport, physically manifest, store objects, and create weapons. To the regular person, or to anyone like his deceased father, these powers would intimidate them, scare them. But Five wasn’t scared of you,. Slowly you had become his Angel. Five found comfort in you, someone who would stick with him while his family scattered after his sacrifices.
“Come on Angel, I’m taking you out today.”
“Out?” You tilted your head.
“Yes like…a date” he blushed. He was wearing a white button-up shirt and black slacks, the shirt was pressed clean with no wrinkles, and the top 3 buttons were undone.
“Go put on your prettiest dress and some nice shoes.” He kissed the top of your head and watched you run off. Anyone who could see the two of you could see his adoration for you. You lived up to your nickname being a small beacon of light in his dark mind.
Despite your growing "relationship" Five still had his worries. It had been 2 weeks since he met you and he wasn’t any closer to finding who had taken you or figuring out your true identity. He had only know a few things from what you told him.
You had grown up in a lab isolated from everyone. The only way of understanding the outside world was through tv and books that a kind doctor had let you before he met an unfortunate end, not that you knew about that. He also learned about the environment you grew up in by your reactions. You hated loud noises, didn’t understand cultural norms, and feared violence and abuse. Knowing this, Five learned to adjust to your needs. He wanted to take care of you and help you. You had become his new family. Maybe it was obsession but it was feeling like love.
You came bouncing down the steps of the academy in a light blue dress with puffy sleeves and a soft ballerina like skirt. The neckline was square and above your cleavage was a gold heart necklace that Five had bought you on your last outing to the mall.
“Beautiful?” You looked at him and twirled.
“Very beautiful amore.” He kissed your cheek and led you out. As the two of you were about to leave the door opened revealing Viktor.
Viktor was in town having just gotten back from a trip to Italy and decided to stop by the academy.
“Oh Five! Who’s this? I came to check on you since you didn’t answer any of my calls.”
Oops well he wasn’t wrong. Five had ignored all Vitkors calls. It wasn’t out of spite it just felt like every-time he talked to his family he had to put on a front. He didn’t need therapy, didn’t want help, and was fine without them. But talking to them felt almost condescending and a very small part of him still harbored a grudge for them all leaving.
“Uh this is Angel. Klaus brought here and left her here so I’ve been taking care of her. We were just about to go out.”
“Angel!” You pointed to yourself.
“Viktor… Five’s family?”
Five sighed when he looked at you. So innocent , unaware to the trauma in his heart. “Yes this is my brother.”
“Brother.” You tested the word out loud.
“Brother!” You pointed to Five.
“No no not I’m not your brother.” Five shot down. He could see the tears in your eyes forming. “I’m sorry Angel, yes we are… family but I am not your brother okay? I’m your friend.”
Your eyes lit up at that notion. You were aware of what friendship was, there was a nice doctor in the facility who had befriended you and taught you all you knew about human interaction until… he met an unfortunate end, not that you knew about that though.
You jumped into Five wrapping your arms around his neck and burrowing your face in his shoulder.
Brown eyes made contact with green and Five felt uneasy in his brother's judgmental gaze. Before Viktor could get out another word Five blinked the two of you to the car. Standing in the doorway Viktor turned to look back at you guys. He was happy his brother had found someone, but you seemed off. He walked into the parlor and whipped out his phone to send a text to the family group chat. Viktor: Did you know Five got a girlfriend? He said Klaus brought her one day and left her. They just went out all dressed up. Allison: No way Diego: Finally that old timer can get some Lila: Who would let that little gremlin near them? Viktor: @Klaus how did you meet Angel. Klaus: On the street. Everyone mentally cringed at the thought of Klaus picking up a girl "off the street" Klaus: She ran into me and was in bad shape, She's super cute though! I knew she and little Five would get along, I'm going to go visit them tonight. Allison: I want to see her! Im coming too Diego: Me and Lila are coming too. Luther: I guess I'm coming as well. Viktor closed out his phone and began walking around the academy. It hadn't been too long since the world was almost destroyed but this place was riddled with mixed memories of sadness but also happiness in which he and his family had finally come together.
His eyes ran over the painting of Five above the mantle. Over his travels, he often thought about Five, but not at first. Initially, he was overjoyed with traveling, meeting people, and developing a few relationships, but his thoughts began to wander back to Five. The boy who had leaped across time, and had worked his ass off to get back to his family only for them to all leave again. It made him feel guilty every time he talked to Five over the phone only to get short responses. His thoughts went back to reminiscing. Five and Vitkor were closest when they were younger, Viktor even remembers the small crush he had on the boy as a kid. Five was cocky, arrogant, and thought to be better than everyone. But the way he looked at Angel had a softness that could rival a field of flowers. The fact he had let her touch him had given Viktor enough information to assume that you had helped Five for the better. ————————-On your date———————— Five had taken you first to a cute little dinner a bit out of the city. You two sat in a booth on the same side. He was a little confused when you sat next to him but decided against saying anything when you grabbed his hand under the table. The waiter came to take your orders, his name was Alek. He looked at you mostly with a predatory glint in his eyes. "What can I get for the pretty lady here?" He winked at you. You laughed and blushed before saying "Pasta!" Pasta was a favorite of yours. Five and you had made pasta together from scratch one night and it was one of your favorite moments with him. You remembered making the sauce together, him flicking some onto your face before kissing it off with his lips. He had looked so good kneading the dough and showing you how to make the sauce and noodles. It ended happily with you in his bed. Five also knew this was your favorite dish and why. It only made his heart beat for you more. Breaking the waiter's attention off you Five stood up and pushed Aleks chest back. "And I'll have the steak, rare I like it a little bloody, and bring us back a milkshake to share, strawberry." Five sat back while glaring at the waiter. Who did this guy even think he was anyway, he literally saw Five walk in with you. Before he could think anything else, his attention was pulled away when your hand traced his jaw.
"Prickly. Ouch." You ran your finger back and forth over his cheek. Five had been growing some facial hair recently.
"What princess? You don't like?" Five rubbed his face against yours while listening to the melodic laughter erupt from your lips. Alek came back with your meals and milkshake avoiding eye contact with you and Five. Excited for your food you kissed Five's cheek as a way to thank him. The two of you ate your food in comfortable silence and shared the milkshake, occasionally laughing when both of you reached for the straw at the same time.
————————-After your date————————
You and Five had left the dinner with full bellies and even fuller hearts. Hand in hand he led you to the street. "let's talk a walk, we need to digest all that food and I know a park nearby that you'll enjoy." "Okay!" you agreed. You had begun to trust Five with... everything in this short time. He cared for you and showed you how to cook, clean, and use a phone. You were growing to love him, not that you knew what love was. As the two of you came closer to the park your eyes lit up seeing the families and children running around and enjoying the warm summer day. Your expression made Five's heart beat faster. Your innocence and kindness were a nice contrast to his years of killings and suffering. Five led the two of you to a bench that looked out to the grassy playground. You leaned your head on his shoulder and let out a sign. You finally felt at peace. No electric chair, no pointy syringes, just the warmth of Five's hand in yours and the smell of his cologne. Five looked down at you staring out into the park. He felt lucky, how could someone like you just fall into his lap when he needed it most. A thought crossed his mind, what would happen if you remembered who you were, would you leave him? The last time he was in a relationship was with a mannequin. But this was different, you needed him just as much as he needed you. He pushed those thoughts aside when he watched your eyes close. He nudged your side "Come on Angel its been a long day lets get you home." Lazily you both stood up and walked back to the car not dare letting go of each others hands.
————————-At the Academy————————
Five was on high alert as the two of you arrived back at the Academy. The lights were on in the den and he could hear hushed voices as he approached. Opening the door he was met with 3 people, backs turned towards him. He instantly recognized these figures as his siblings, Diego, Luther, and Allison. Peaking around them he saw three more, Viktor, Klaus, and Lila. "Well, this is an unexpected visit," Five stated breaking the uncomfortable silence. The trio looked at each other before Allison spoke up. "We wanted to check up on you, we haven't heard from you in a while." She looked at you behind Five, "Is this uh your girlfriend?" Five's eyes narrowed at Viktor in the corner before sighing. "She's not my girlfriend, this is Angel, I've been taking care of her since Klaus brought her here."
"I'm not Five's friend." You looked up at him, tears forming in your eyes. "No, shit I'm sorry Angel, yes you are my friend you are more than my friend." His expression softened when you wrapped his arms around his neck once again to kiss his cheek. The rest of the superpowered bunch looked in awe. Their normally cocky and arrogant brother hadn't snapped at you or yelled at you. He was gentle and reassuring. Lila was the one to speak up next to Viktor "Wow the old man finally found someone." Ignoring Lila's statement Allison continued, "Wait Klaus brought her here?" Klaus surprisingly not sober, stood up. "Yeah she ran into me all banged up so I brought her to the one place I knew could fix her up. She's got powers like us!" The family turned to you and Five once more expecting you to demonstrate. Hesitating Five looked at you "Okay Angel, show them what we have been practicing." You nodded to Five before raising your hands. In an instant, shadows rose from the ground to the ceiling of the room, suffocating any light that had been previously there. Your hands swirled causing the shadows to form a vortex. You thew your fists down bringing the shadows to your side. One arm lifted up across your chest as you threw it to the opposite area, effectively slicing a potted plant in half. Your eyes glistened with pride as you looked to Five. "I did it!" You jumped into his open arms as Five twirled you around with joy. "I knew you could do it princess!" Luther who was silent in the beginning spoke up next. "So you just found her on the street and she has powers? We don't even know her she could be dangerous then! She could be Commission!" Being number one and the head of the family was difficult for Luther. He was always overprotective of his siblings and made hasty rash decisions believing that he knew what was best for everyone. But Five remembers what happened when Viktor was discovered to have powers and he was hell-bent on not repeating it again. Five paused before turning to you and blinking you upstairs. He had tucked you in and helped you into bed before kissing the corner of your lips. "Good night darling, let me talk to my family for a bit, and I'll join you okay?" "Okay Five, good night" And with one last glance at you he blinked back downstairs. "Trust me Luther I would know if she was commission or not, when she got here she could barely talk and didn't even know her own name!" "I've spent the last 2 weeks trying to figure out where she came from. All I know is that she was brought up in a lab that focused on human experimentation to try to recreate the original 43." "You can't...You honestly can't possibly imagine, the pain she has gone through. And let's not forget what happened the last time you tried to "help" a person who had just gained their powers." Five looked over at Viktor. Viktor couldn't help but look at his lap. "Five is right, let's give her a chance. She is obviously doing well under Five's care and he cares for her back." Five looked appreciative at Viktor although he was the one who originally ratted him and you to the family. "I know you guys haven't heard from me in a while, but trust me I'm doing fine. Let's... go out for breakfast tomorrow. I know a place that we all would like. Meet back here at 9am. I'm going to check on Angel and head to bed." And with that, he disappeared in a flash of blue. The Hagreeves siblings looked at each other in shock. Never had their brother been the first to reach out to spend time, it must be important to him. Diego walked towards and grabbed Lila's hand "Well I'm happy for the guy, it was about time he got some. See you all tomorrow." He waved to his siblings and headed out. The others slowly followed suit each one of them that night laid in bed thinking about the events that had transpired and mentally prepared for a family breakfast the next day.
⋆。‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧。⋆⋆。‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧。⋆⋆。‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧。⋆⋆。‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧。⋆⋆。‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧。⋆⋆。‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧。⋆⋆。‧˚
Author's note: I had actually finished this before Tumblr decided to not save anything and I lost half the story T-T I was really good too. I tried to rewrite it the best I could.
Author's note: 9/14 part 3 is on its way ! Taglist: @groovydazephantom
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sunderedstar · 3 months ago
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good books of 2024
according to meeee.
there is no order here, at least one of these was published ages ago, I'm just working my way through my 2024 timeline, godspeed spiderman. 🫡
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Metal from Heaven
surprise hit of 2024. top of the charts. stunning, spectacular. gorgeous. Metal from Heaven FUCKS. almost every single main character is an explicit spicy toxic hot mess of a lesbian committing literal highway/train robbery, the bad guy is literally named Industry, leading to such peak sentences as "I am going to kill Industry." the prose is synesthetic in a way that most writers cannot sustain for a full novel but which here culminates in a moment of pure blissful Neon Genesis Evangelion that I will not elaborate on due to spoilers. the author pulls out the FUNNIEST lines, and also the most abrupt and heartbreaking tragedies. we're not here to be subtle, we're here to put the pedal to the metal until the engine explodes. such a damning, whip smart condemnation of industry, capitalism, power. all in the form of Lesbians. also the phrase 'clown orgy' is mentioned. this shit is like gideon the ninth with CRUNCH. NSFW.
but don't take my word for it. take amal el-mohtar's.
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Absolution
Absolution is a hard book. requires thought and rigor at all times to absorb what's going on - and also a reread of the entire trilogy beforehand, because there's time travel nuance involved, which makes it next to impossible to sum up the plot coherently on its own without spoiling things. jeff vandermeer described it partially as 'fuck that alligator from the movie' and - valid. the first 60% had me; the later section...swapped gears drastically, which meant it took a while to hit its stride (aka until it reached Area X again). in hindsight I was just not prepared for one of the POVs to be the Freudian, violently stoned, unreliable narrator love-child of Karkat and Dave Strider whose perception/conception of the heart of the Southern Reach is extremely phallic. and then suddenly cannibalism happens. I liked Annihilation and Acceptance better, but damn. it almost feels like this should be the set up to another trilogy. much 2 think about.
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Yield Under Great Persuasion
I don't know why I didn't hear anything about this one before it came out! (instead, I only saw posts about rowland's other book released this year, running close to the wind - which sadly did not hit for me at all). Yield Under Great Persuasion is just ridiculous enough to be fantastic. stubborn little gremlin man, big mad about Pumpkingate years after the original inciting incident that set him at odds with his love interest, attempts to pack his little rucksack and run away from all his self-inflicted gay problems, fails, is forced to deal with said personal problems by direct goddess-intervention. you know it's gonna be good when the guys are hate-banging by page 2. a short, delightful mix of (extremely silly and low-stakes) enemies to lovers and hurt/comfort and working out your emotional and communication issues on page style comfort food. self-indulgent in a fanfic way that is rowland's trademark in a taste of gold and iron (which was also fantastic and probably deserves a reread now.) NSFW.
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The Spellshop
between this and yield under great persuasion there's an odd cozy fantasy pairing here. a self-isolated shut-in spellbook librarian who lives for her work escapes the fall of her city and sets up shop back in her old hometown on a severely magic-deprived island. there's some internalized trauma being worked through, against a simply charming backdrop of community and solidarity and magic spells. really. I was. charmed. which is a rare reaction on my part.
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The Hunter's Gonna Lay Low
the curveball of the list, The Hunter's Gonna Lay Low is a translated (gay) Korean web novel, and it's the perfect intersection of a decent translator meeting an author who knows what they're doing. notorious tumblr user @spockandawe has a write up of the plot and its major themes here, but in essence it hooked me with its hunter/super-hero meets Pacific Rim setting, its themes of gifted kid burnout and unacknowledged trauma with the weight of the world on his shoulders, and the fact that the author clearly plotted out all of this in advance, with minor details from the opening chapter being extremely plot relevant a hundred chapters later. also, the characters are FUN! the relationship compels me. clownery abounds in all the best ways, while the world-ending stakes are also scarily sky high. its translation is currently incomplete as far as I'm aware, which is literally this story's only downside right now, since you can read it online for free - but so much of the main story is up and translated already that it's hard to imagine how much higher the stakes can go, and I'm dying to know if these two make it through and get the happy ending they deserve. a delicious repast.
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Apostles of Mercy
I'm gonna rant here. this is the story of a series that got the redemption arc it deserved.
if you don't know, axiom's end is lindsay ellis's blatant Bayverse Transformers female lead alternate history fic. period. she has openly admitted this. you can easily and clearly pick out the Optimus/Megatron/Starscream expies. and that first book was GOOD. it understood the assignment. loved it.
then...truth of the divine happened. book two of the series. was frankly. god awful. it was like twilight's new moon, where the main character's depression saturates and therefore stagnates the entire narrative, in this case to its detriment. it dragged. the entire appeal of first book of the series is the bond between the main character and her new definitely-not-a-Transformer life partner, and book two managed to both sideline that - the entire point!!! the main thing you're reading it for! the alien time! - and introduce the most skeevy and (for me) unpleasant to read human hetero romance of all time. it was so unpleasant I actually forgot how bad it was.
somehow. somehow. palpatine returned. after I spent three years mourning what could have been. book three saved it. Apostles of Mercy addresses the whole damn skeevy toxic mess that was book two and refocuses on what matters - the alien love interest and a LESBIAN love interest. yes. it's true. once again the sapphics won. we now have a book where the main character is reliving lesbian sex memories as an alien-robot-insect-definitely-not-a-Transformer mindmelds with her so I mean. good job team? her love interest also acquires an alien life partner of her own to expand this into potential alien foursome range? the assignment is once again UNDERSTOOD. in terms of the action scenes, to quote myself while reading it, "I can't believe I'm saying this but you needed to channel far more Bayverse" [for book 2], and doing so for book 3 has produced a work of art. I would say skip book 2 entirely and thank me later, but experiencing how bad the series got at its darkest point is part of what made book 3 such an exhilarating high in comparison. possibly that was the goal all along, impossible to appreciate until now. I just need lindsay ellis to get the contract to write the currently-in-publication-limbo books 4 and 5. because the series deserves it. it only just got good again! NSFWish because I can't remember currently how explicit they got all these months later, forgive me.
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The Deep Sky
yume kitasei is new to me, but this book hit some interesting notes as a sci fi debut. it too is about gifted kid burnout and imposter syndrome, funnily enough, in a thoughtful take on the standard sci fi concept of 'a bunch of rigorously trained young adults are sent out into deep space as an ark to save a dying humanity' that actually does discuss how fucked up that is as a concept, both for the kids as they grow up under enormous pressure to win a spot on the mission and for all those people being left behind, in what might just end up being an overhyped waste of resources, since civilization sure is still kicking when they leave. the summary on the book is somewhat misleading - asuka, the main character, doesn't fall under suspicion until wayyyy late in the book, and spends the majority of it in a pseudo-detective role that is absolutely sanctioned by those in charge. she's not 'an immediate suspect' like the book blurb insists. go figure. it didn't knock me out of the park like most of the books above, but it was an engaging little read.
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The Bees
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a weird one from 2014, picked up on a whim - it's literally about bees! fictionalized bees! with personalities and priesthoods and caste politics and everything! I cried about it to be honest. very plotty, somehow all of it neatly taking place within the Lifecycle of A Bee™️, which takes some real craftsmanship to pull off and make compelling as a narrative. since I'm an unrepentant Raksura fan, I was like 'wow...how Raksura coded...' knowing full well that Raksura are dragon bee people, not the other way around. also the Raksura could never be as toxic (complimentary) as these bees are. 😂 it's just good literature your honor.
honorable mentions:
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Heavenly Tyrant
has not come out yet. but let's be real. it's on the list in anticipation. it's what she deserves.
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The City in Glass
I love nghi vo's work, have read and adored all of the singing hills cycle novellas. it took a month for my library hold on this book to be available. and then I promptly got distracted by metal from heaven and the hunter's gonna lay low 😂 I will read it!!! the first eight pages were good! vitrine's voice is very good! I've just had a very busy end of the year interrupting my everything. (update: I read two more pages and it immediately and promptly popped off. whoops. guess I'm reading that next. whenever I have free time again...)
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nottivagos · 16 days ago
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OKAY HEAR ME OUT on these two possible ideas:
1) all part of nerd!reader's plot to absolutely tease / overstim jock!carlos. i...uh.. haven't full thought out this one but imagine her planning it. she knows his schedule and so she decides to put on a show, just to see how he reacts. but she didn't realize how much she would enjoy it and she ends up forgetting about carlos. so when he walks in, imagine his reaction seeing her be a mess, thinking about him. Definitely an ego boost.
2) nerd!reader is fantasizing about carlos after she gets jealous. how it all happen was that carlos invited her to a party to, you know, let loose. it's not always just studying. she declines. but as time goes on, she feels like going. not because of carlos, just to live a little. but when she arrives, everyone is absolutely wasted. guys hitting on her, people trying to dance with her. then, she sees carlos with a gorgeous girl, and the girl is super close to him, obviously flirting and carlos is just soaking up the fun and attention, enjoying the party. so, nerd!reader goes back to her dorm and is frustrated, jealous... and ends up thinking about how much she wants his attention, which ends up with her touching herself. carlos, however, noticed when she arrived and left the party so he went after her. but when he sees her moaning his name and so lost in pleasure, he just stands there, with a smirk and his hand stroking himself.
- yapping bun anon 🐇
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Welcome to Notti's "Not So Innocent" Notebook where I write some filth to make your Saturday a little bit better <3 || 18+ mdni pls and ty
an: BUN ANON STRIKES AGAIN!!! i picked the second one because, ah, it is perfection. jock!carlos, oh the man you are. it was also an excuse to listen to artemas for a while so i'm happy both ways :)
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You shouldn’t have gone to that party.
Carlos had practically made you go. Apparently you were being too stuck-up and needed to ‘let go’. His claims were utter bullshit, you thought. You didn’t need to ‘let go’ like he practically did every night.
So, at first you stubbornly refused like you usually did. You had to study, which was commonly your excuse for everything Carlos tried to initiate, to which he replied with an annoyed sigh and an angry mutter, followed by him rubbing a hand over his face and leaving the dorm out of irritation.
A long period of silence followed. Carlos started going out more often with his douchebag friends to train or socialise, which you didn’t care less for though. He could do whatever the fuck he wanted just so he didn’t distract you from your studies.
But there was always that nagging voice playing in the back of your mind. The urge to go, not for Carlos, but for yourself. This opportunity was like gold dust to a student like yourself, something very rare to be offered by a jock themselves, and the desire to ‘live a little’ hung heavy in your mind and physically.
A little dorm party wouldn’t hurt, surely?
Oh, how you were wrong. For a start, everyone was already nearly blackout drunk. The eyes of hungry jocks burnt into your skin as you rubbed your bare upper arm nervously. You’d never ‘dressed up’ like this before, so the eyes made you gulp anxiously as you tried to merge into the background. Sweat clung to the humid atmosphere as pounding bass blared through your ears as you tried to navigate the crowds.
It didn’t help that you wanted to find Carlos. Despite coming to the party on your own accord, there was a lowly lit flame of yearning burning in your stomach. You wanted Carlos, even if it was one little drunken moment with him.
Barging through the dancing crowds, whilst fuelled with adrenaline to find Carlos was what drove you through the party. You had to fight grabbing hands trying to get you to dance along, but however, the few sips of some strongly made cocktail you snuck on the way through was just adding to your surge of confidence.
That all shattered when you saw him with her. He was casually resting his arm against the wall as she giggled, brushing her palm playfully against his chest. She was gorgeous than you, in many more ways, as she moved to press herself against Carlos’s front, a mischievous glint glowing in her eyes.
 Her words fanned against his lips in ways you didn’t want to, the slurred murmurs made your body tense with jealousy, her nose now dangerously grazing Carlos’s as he just revelled in the drunken attention, smirking at her comments made you want to explode in fury.
The anger and bitter jealousy overwhelmed your senses as you stormed out of the party and made your way back to your shared dorm with Carlos. You couldn’t believe it. So much for literally having the audacity to ask you to come to the party just to have another woman flirt with him instead.
The desire for Carlos’s attention was overpowering as your body burnt in a fury of irritation. You’d gone out of your way to try and make an effort for Carlos to see, for that confidence to crumble and dissipate when his lips even dared to touch that bitch’s glossy, plump ones.
An agitated slam of your door was followed by you storming over to your bed, before you slumped into it, allowing the springs of your mattress to elevate you back slightly. Stirring in your anger at your situation, the desire to have Carlos’s all to yourself caused a pool of fire to begin to burn furiously in your belly.
Your hands absentmindedly followed, fingertips grazing the soft flesh underneath your shirt ever so subtly. The unmonitored movements and motions burnt your skin, the overwhelming thought of Carlos’s fingers actually being the ones trailing down your smooth stomach instead of your own to your clothed cunt made your body dangerously hungry for more.
The touches were becoming more torturous as your fantasies mixed with the growing pleasure coiling inside of you ever so tighter and intenser. They travelled down lower, coming to toy with the hem of your skirt, pushing it up your thighs, before ghosting over the wet spot on your clothed pussy. 
Gasping at the sensation, your fingertips trailed back upwards to the top of your panties, hooking at the elastic before you wiggled them down your bare legs to your ankles awkwardly. They then gradually made their way back up to your now bare pussy sensually, feeling the initial wetness coating your desperate folds.
Imagining Carlos’s fingers spreading your wetness across your yearning folds was intoxicating as you did it. Biting your lip, you teased your fingertips at the opening of your hole, feeling it hungrily try to grab at them as you pulled out.
“Carlos,” your breathy voice called out as you dipped two fingers into your weeping pussy. The feeling was electric as you started to slowly pump them in and out of you, feeling your walls desperately try to suck you in as you did so. 
A pathetic whine followed as your cheeks burnt a hot crimson, biting your bottom lip hard as you began to imagine Carlos’s fingers stretching out your hole so easily, and the way his thick accent would drawl and purr as you moaned embarrassingly at the size difference and the way he murmured swift nothings into your ear ever so smoothly.
If anything, the thoughts made you even crazier for him. You were drunk on your fantasies as your fingers found a relentless rhythm, which made you allow your now more passionate moans to ring around your dorm. You wanted Carlos— no, you needed him to touch you. 
Fuck that bitch he was talking to at the party, you craved for him to be your own. The way his lips would feel on your skin, the way the bites would be so intoxicating, the way you’d rake your fingertips through his beautiful brown hair as you both made out so passionately, the way his cock would feel inside of you for the first time, to the way your name would fall from his lips like a prayer were enough to get you entranced in your vivid dreams.
“Carlos, please,” you begged pathetically as your eyes fully closed shut, thrusting your fingers deeper into your slick cunt. “Please, Carlos, fuck me,” your begged moans became increasingly louder as your breath had began to hitch, the coil inside the bottom of your belly tightening with every inch added as you fucked yourself.
Whilst you were too caught up in your own erotica, you didn’t even suspect Carlos’s looming presence in the room. In fact, you didn’t even know that he’d gone after you when he’d seen you at the party leaving in rage, guilty for hurting your feelings with the drunk little flirt session he was having with that girl.
What he wasn’t expecting to see was you panting his name ever so desperately loud as frantic fingers pounded into your tight cunt. His brown doe eyes darkened with lust as you were too engrossed in the overwhelming pleasure of your ongoing fantasy and the crazy feeling that your fingers felt inside of you as they curled to find the spot that made you squeal.
“Carlos, fuck— You feel so good—” you staggered a strangled moan as your toes started to curl when your fingers had finally found the spot that made you see stars. 
Carlos knew it was wrong to ogle at you pleasuring yourself at the thought of him but your moans and whines of his name were like a siren’s song to his ears, drawing him in to your lust. 
His cock was already painfully hard when his hands moved ever so fast to the zipper of his jeans. Carlos then pushed his jeans down to his ankles with desperation, his boxers following immediately afterwards as he let his erection spring free against his clothed torso. 
At this point, you were dripping onto the bed sheets below you, hips jerking slightly upwards to create more stimulation and friction. Your thumb found your clit, rubbing against the sensitive ball of nerves also, whilst your eyes squeezed shut. You could sense your inevitable climax, as your cheeks burnt all whilst your chest rose erratically with each breath and pant you took.
Carlos groaned lowly in response to the sight he was witnessing, as he started to spread the pre-cum leaking from his angry, red tip with his thumb. He smirked as you let out another few breathy gasps, before he began to pump his shaft almost immediately after.
Your fingers began to pound even more erratically as you felt your high coming. A pierced moan escaped your lips as you screamed, “Carlos!” as the high you desperately craved finally hit you like a wave.
Your body spasmed slightly with pleasure as your cunt clenched around your fingers, soaking them with your dripping essence rushed out of your pussy like a waterfall. The smirk on Carlos’s face grew as you rode out your high. He continued to stroke himself, half-lidded eyes glued to your flushed state as your eyes slowly fluttered open after you removed your wet fingers from your slick hole.
Mind hazy, you blinked up at the ceiling for a brief moment. Your chest heaved as you tried to gain some kind of composure, upon looking down your eyes widened at Carlos lurking in the walkway, just naturally jerking himself off.
“Carlos?!” you squeaked out in embarrassment. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” you asked whilst frantically looking for the sheets to cover yourself up with.
“I think I should be the one asking you that question,” he gritted out, continuing to wank off himself as you stared at him with wide eyes. “Do you know how fucking worked up I am right now?” he asked, his words had a bite to them, “me estás matando aquí, cariño,” he muttered, shaking his head as his hardened cock twitched angrily.
“Carlos,” you began to explain, “I didn’t mean to I—”
“Shut up,” he hissed, pumping ever so furiously before he also rode out his release with a groan, the cum spilling from his penis that coated his fingers with ropes of white.
He then grabbed a tissue from the tissue box on the desk before cleaning his release off of his hand. After, he looked at you, who was looking embarrassed and bashful from what you’d done, before he walked over to your bed, crawling on top of you as you stayed underneath the covers.
“Who knew the nerd had a secret lust for me, huh?” He whispered ever so thickly against your lips, the words causing his hot breath to fan across them. “Next time you do this,” he mumbled, nose coming to graze against your own, “I’m going to be the one inside of you making you scream out my name. Got that?”
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like jock!carlos? fancy sending me an ask in my inbox so you can be included in my notebook! - notti <3
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legendary-69420 · 17 days ago
Text
Shadows of the Past 2 : When Jealousy Burns
Chapter 13 : Part 2
(Racing Hearts : VOLUME 3 )
racing hearts
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Warnings: Very slight NSFW
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The quiet hum of the air conditioner filled Charles’ living room as he lounged on the recliner, his eyes blankly staring at the TV. His younger brother, Arthur, was sprawled on the couch, scrolling through his phone, snickering at something that probably wasn’t half as funny as his reactions made it seem.
Charles’ mind, however, was far from the TV or Arthur’s antics. His thoughts were locked on Mark. Specifically, the way Mark had been acting lately — the effortless charisma, the way he knew everyone, the way everyone seemed to want him. It’s like he’s a magnet for attention, Charles thought, a mix of admiration and frustration churning in his chest.
“Why do you look like you’re about to explode, big bro?” Arthur’s voice broke through the fog of Charles’ thoughts. Charles’ eyes snapped to his brother, who was looking at him with a knowing grin. “Did you finally realize you’re in love with him, or are you just constipated?” Arthur teased, grinning wider as Charles’ face twisted into a scowl.
“Shut up,” Charles muttered, flicking a pillow at his brother, who dodged it easily. Arthur’s grin only grew more insufferable.
"Alright, what's up with you, bro? You've been sighing like a lovesick teenager.” Arthur's grin was unmistakably mischievous.
“Shut up,” Charles muttered, adjusting his position.
“No, seriously,” Arthur continued, a teasing lilt in his tone. “You’ve been like this for days. It’s either you’re thinking about racing or…” He glanced over with a knowing smirk. “Nope, it’s not racing.”
Charles groaned, tossing a pillow at him. “If you’re going to be annoying, at least be useful,” he said. “Tell me about Mark’s exes.”
Arthur’s face scrunched up in disbelief. “Wait, wait, wait,” he raised his hand like he’d been dealt psychic damage. “Is he my crush or yours?”
“Just do what you’re told,” Charles retorted, his face flushing a light pink as he turned away.
Arthur snickered, but he complied, opening his laptop. His fingers moved swiftly over the keyboard, eyes scanning the results with growing intrigue. “Okay, let’s see…” he said, his voice dragging as he clicked through pages. “Damn, this guy’s love life is… eventful.”
“Get to the point, Arthur,” Charles grumbled, leaning forward, his eyes narrowing with interest.
“Alright, alright, sheesh,” Arthur said, scrolling with a grin. “First one… a gold digger. This dude—let’s call him “Mr. Materialistic”—tried to leech off Mark’s fame. Didn’t last long.”
“Apparently, this guy was more interested in Mark’s bank account than his heart. Only lasted a few months before Mark’s parents found out and… well, let’s just say he’s probably banned from every five-star restaurant in Italy.”
Charles’ lips twitched into a small grin. "Good."
Charles nodded, unimpressed but not surprised. “Next.”
“Second guy,” Arthur’s face shifted to one of mild disgust. “‘Abusive’”—he even added air quotes—“based on what’s here, he tried to hit Mark, but…” Arthur’s grin widened, “Mark almost broke his hand.”
Charles’s eyes darkened at the mention of abuse, his jaw tightening. His gaze flicked to Arthur, his voice dangerously calm. “Did he actually hurt him?”
“Nope,” Arthur replied quickly. “And I’m pretty sure Mark’s parents would’ve destroyed that guy’s whole life if he did.”
The tension eased from Charles’s shoulders, his lips twitching into a grin. “Of course.”
“Okay, now the third one…” Arthur’s face faltered, his eyes darting to Charles, then back to the screen.
“What?” Charles sat up straight, his eyes locked on Arthur. “Spit it out.”
Arthur turned the laptop around.
Charles’s eyes widened as he leaned forward, his heart giving a sharp jolt in his chest. “No way,” he muttered, his gaze locked with unblinking intensity. A rush of disbelief, intrigue, and something harder to name surged through him, tightening his grip on the edge of the couch. he whispered.
On the screen was a familiar face—Paul Mescal.
“Yup,” Arthur confirmed, watching Charles’s reaction with barely concealed amusement. “They ‘had a thing’ while shooting ‘All of Us Strangers.’ Lasted about two to three years before they broke up. Mutual decision, apparently.”
Charles’s eyes scanned the details, his heart thudding louder in his chest. Paul Mescal. The guy he’d been hanging out with lately. No wonder Mark had been acting odd.
He played an interview clip embedded on the page. Mark and Paul sat next to each other, laughing and bantering like old friends.
“Favorite scene?” the interviewer asked.
“The breakdown scene,” Mark said, his smile fond but bittersweet. “There was a rawness to it that felt very real.”
“Nah,” Paul cut in with a teasing grin. “Mine was the… you know.” He wiggled his eyebrows, earning a laugh from the interviewer.
"Mine’s the s#x scene,” Paul added, grinning mischievously, watching Mark’s face scrunch up in playful irritation. "Took two whole days to film. Worth it, though.”
Charles’s finger jabbed the close button faster than he’d like to admit, his face flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and irritation. His heart pounded in his chest, a sharp rhythm that matched the chaos in his mind.
The image of Mark and Paul lingered behind his eyes, unwelcome and stubborn. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, jaw tightening, the nagging burn of something far too close to jealousy crawling up his spine. It wasn’t fair, he told himself, but the logic did little to cool the heat under his skin. “Spicy scene, huh?” he muttered, frowning at the screen as if it had personally offended him.
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Later that night, Charles sat on his couch, beer in hand, watching "All of Us Strangers." The moment Mark’s character kissed Paul’s character, Charles’s grip on the beer can tightened until it crumpled.
Arthur side-eyed him. “You’re not subtle, you know.”
Charles ignored him, his eyes glued to the screen, but the knot in his chest only grew tighter. The spicy scene hit, and Charles’s face twisted with indecision. He couldn’t decide whether he wanted to turn it off or keep watching.
FAN COMMENTS:
@user_1: “WHAT THE FUCK IS WITH MARK AND HIS CHARACTERS NEVER GETTING A HAPPY ENDING?”
@user_2: “Mark as a vulnerable cutie has my heart.”
@user_3: “OHH THE SPICY SCENE… I’ll die.”
@user_4: “Seeing Mark break down even in character was so sad. I cried. And I rarely cry.”
@user_5: “Makes sense why he’s winning awards left and right.”
@user_6: “Mark is so happy and bright, yet somehow he nails the role of a heartbroken guy.”
@user_7: “I see It is Impossible to work with Mark and not fall in love with him. First Paul and Now Charles”
The next day, Charles walked into the Ferrari garage, his jaw set in determination. He spotted Mark in an isolated corner, talking on the phone, his face as carefree as ever.
Charles’s gaze darkened. Before he knew it, his feet carried him forward. Mark’s voice trailed off as Charles reached him, eyes wide with confusion.
“Charles? What—”
Charles grabbed him by the wrist, spun him around, and without warning, pressed his lips to Mark’s in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It wasn’t a moment of fleeting impulse—it felt like something that had been building for far too long, a culmination of every glance, every unsaid word, and every unspoken frustration between them. Charles’s mind was a blur of heat and noise, but one thing rang clear: he wasn’t going to walk away from this unresolved any longer. It wasn’t soft like before—this was rough, unyielding, like he was staking a claim.
When he pulled back, his breath was heavy, his eyes sharp with unspoken words. Mark stood there, stunned, cheeks flushed, his eyes searching Charles’s face.
Charles turned on his heel and stormed off, his heart pounding in his chest.
Mark’s fingers brushed his lips, eyes still wide with shock. “What the hell just happened?”
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(dividers by @omi-resources & @enchanthings-a)
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luunaz · 6 months ago
Note
Could you make a part 3 to When You Come Back about Peter’s and the others reaction about what happened to the reader. And maybe showing how Peter heart breaks. Only if you want to of course.
Thank you for your request! I hope you like it.
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[When you come back, part 3] Peter Pevensie
pairing: Peter Pevensie x reader
type: angst 🍂
warning: the death of the main character
part 1, part 2 and Masterlist
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Peter didn't understand what Caspian had just told him. Or he didn't want to understand. He walked over to the cold stone wall where the Narnians had depicted the image of a warrior. A woman stood surrounded by soldiers and held a sword over her head. Peter ran his fingers over the rough wall and wiped away a layer of dust, allowing the colors to shine brighter.
— The tutor told me that she became queen after you left Narnia. Her reign was short-lived. When the Telmarines declared war, Queen Y/N tried to negotiate with them, as she understood that Narnia would not be able to win. But she didn't succeed, — Caspian's voice grew quieter with each sentence. He looked from Peter to the rest of the Pevensies, — this image illustrates how she, with a small detachment, detained the Telmarines while the Narnians were fleeing into the woods.
— Unfortunately, no one returned from Cair Paravel that day, — Trufflehunter said.
There were tears in Lucy's eyes. She clung to Susan for support. The elder sister felt despair. It was so hard for Susan to realize that her friend was gone. Just a year ago, they were choosing a dress for a wedding, planning for the future, and now… Edmund looked at Peter. He looked calm enough. Not a single emotion showed on his face. Ed thought at first that maybe Peter hadn't heard, but no, Peter had heard everything. His heart just collapsed in one moment. This can't be true! Despite all the pain that swept over the king, he did not give himself the opportunity to show weakness.
— And where was she buried? — Peter's voice sounded very rough and cold.
— As far as I've heard, the Narnians have never been able to find her body, — Trufflehunter said, — but we remember her during the full moon of the second summer month.
When evening came, Peter went out into the fresh air. The sun had almost set below the horizon and the forest was plunged into darkness. It was very quiet. Peter sat down on a rock that stood nearby. When he returned to Narnia, all he thought about was meeting you again, seeing your smile and feeling the warmth of your embrace. He hoped that you would be alive, that you would find a way to be with him again. It seemed that his hopes were dashed at the moment when Trufflehunter said that you had not returned. Annoyance, anger, and despair filled Peter's heart. He must take revenge on the Telmarines for what they did to the Narnians and to you.
The King took a small ring from his breast pocket. It was quite simple: gold, with a small green gemstone. This is the ring he wanted to give you after the wedding. He imagined how charming it would look on your finger. All this time, while he was in England, Peter kept him, in memory of you, so as not to forget his promise to be there and protect. He was hoping to come back, give it to you and make you his queen. He was only afraid that you wouldn't accept him at the age he is now. As it turned out, this was the least of the problems.
Even though everyone kept telling him that you were gone, Peter couldn't help but believe that he would see you. He just didn't want to believe that you would disappear from his life so easily. If he needs to fight thousands of Miraz’s soldiers, he is ready to do it. He is ready to challenge all the villains of Narnia, just to see your eyes again. Now this ring was the only reminder of you. It would have been easier to throw him out, to leave these feelings behind, but he couldn't and didn't want to. If he has to live his whole life in pain, then he will be glad, because this pain is the only thing that connects you and him. He was High King of Narnia, Emperor of the Lone Islands, Lord of Cair Paravel, Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Lion, but he never had the strength to come to terms with the circumstances.
Peter looked up at the night sky, which was already strewn with stars. Tears rolled down from his eyes. If only he could have come back earlier…
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red-doll-face · 3 months ago
Text
Snow Angel
Chapter 2: sated < chapter one > chapter three
Low to Medium Arthur Morgan x Female Reader
Arthur has been living by himself, laying low (for real this time) somewhere in the Pacific Northwest. After the whole Pinkerton and Micah debacle, he has been hiding away, waiting for it all to blow over, occasionally getting letters from the people who still know that he's alive. He's been alone awhile and at first, he thought he could handle a little loneliness. He has been wrong before. Lucky for him, you look like the perfect thing to break up the monotony.
Warnings: dubious consent, smut, naive reader, low honor Arthur as a warning but he’s not too bad, ‘yandere’ Arthur a bit ? I guess. Very possessive Arthur
This is actually the porn part so sorry, I ended up splitting the first chapter because I feel like 7000 words is a lot for people to do in one sitting. Thanks for reading! If you read the long version, this is just the second part of the first chapter. I’m figuring it out lol
WC: 5025 still long 😭
Tags: innocence kink, size kink, vaginal and oral sex, no TB thank god. Arthur is sweet still but has mean tendencies obviously.
Arthur shows you how a man treats his woman.
The weight of him thumps down the wooden floors of his home. He’s big and he seems very adept at killing things. And you think you’ve heard the name Arthur Morgan before. The very man has his big hand on your lower back, warm and firm. He guides you to sit, pulling a chair out for you at a small dining table, plates and tin cups, forks out for your dining needs. Very gentlemanly for such a gruff man.
“I already had my supper but I thought you might be hungry,” He sets down a bottle of fine brandy and a plate of steaming food. More of the potatoes and salt pork, fried in more pork fat. Your hands slowly reach for a fork. He has two small tumblers set out, in which he pours two small servings of the liquor. You don’t think you’ve had much to drink except perhaps a bit of wine. He slides one glass to you and you nod.
“Thank you-”
“No need to thank me, sweetheart. Think your company is enough for me,” He stares and he watches until you finally take a slow, small bite of the food he had laid out for you. As if the name he called you wasn’t enough to make heat rise to your face. He hasn’t done anything too bad yet. But you can’t shake the feeling that something at some point may go awry. Not that you could do much about it. He’s made sure of that. Finally he takes a sip of his drink, throwing it back with no hesitation. It slips easily down his throat. You decide to taste it and it immediately begins to burn the back of your throat, you can’t help but make a displeased face at the bitter taste. You can hardly bring yourself to swallow the fiery liquid. He smirks.
“Now ain’t that cute. You ain’t never had no drink before?” Arthur’s face is smug and endeared all at once. As if he’s just seen a puppy or a litter of kittens, all snuggled up. You feel embarrassed at his reaction.
“I have; some church wine, once,” You murmur out, trying to sound brave but you only sound defensive and inexperienced. Based on what you’ve seen of him, you don’t think there isn't liquor he hasn’t tried, an animal he hasn’t shot, or a gun he hasn’t fired.
“Where you from, girl?” You finally tell him your name in, again, what is a defensive and girlish tone when you had wanted to be assertive. He quirks a brow, repeats his question and somehow your name in his mouth makes you shiver. The half smile he gives you is even more charmed. He leans over the table, pouring himself another glass of brandy.
“I’m from west of here, out by Long Pine and that abandoned lumber mill. My family has lived there a while. My Pa traps and once upon a time, he went to California to find some gold with my uncle. My ma is from round here…” He listens to you, attentively. Focused on how your mouth moves, how your fingers mess with your hair. The prongs of the fork sink into a softened piece of the potatoes he made you. He nods, watching as you take more and more bites of the food he has given you.
“Not really from nowhere, moved around a lot when I was a boy. Had to make my own life. Didn’t matter though, that all went up in smoke…” It seems as if he remembered bitter memories at your included topic of family. It's all rather secretive, no Ma or Pa to be mentioned. The crackling fire does little to fill the silence.
“Do you like living here?” You ask him, hoping to not put him in a bad mood, especially with drink involved. It was your turn to question him anyway. He looks up at you, his eyes meet yours and your stomach feels strange. It feels like he's glad you’ve asked him a question. Like your interest is unexpected.
“Well, maybe not right now, weather’s shit, long ride to town, real quiet and lonely, but I can think of a few things that have made it more bearable today,” You nod along, his voice rough and deep, you can feel how it almost touches you, over your ears and down the sides of your neck. “I’ll let ya finish, all this yammerin’ on,” you try to finish but he really has given you much more food than you had even wanted nor needed. He corks his brandy, storing it away and takes away the glass you hadn’t touched after your first sip. He finishes your glass, putting away the dishes in the basin.
You’ve eaten all you could and you stand, placing the dish with the rest.
“I ain’t the best cook but I get on okay,” He stands in the small kitchen. As you set down the plate, he corners you again.
“Might be better if you did it next time, the cookin’, I mean. Your Ma teach you to cook?” You can read the subtext. Did she teach you to cook for a man, your prospective husband and family. The idea makes you feel strange. Just what does this man think is going to happen?
“As much as any mother teaches her daughter, I suppose. Somehow I feel you wouldn’t be too hard to impress,” You let your tongue move before you think but he seems to just enjoy it. He breaks into a smile, playful but still, he has you backed into the counter.
“I like your little spitfires, girl, think I’d like your cookin’ too, more than any fancy bullshit they make in St. Denis,” You feel that shy heat in your cheeks. A compliment for your cooking and you haven't so much as boiled some water. His hands are up on you, your hips, petting and rubbing with his thumbs. “You’re just the prettiest girl, you know that?”
“Mr. Morgan…” you saying his name in a soft tone only makes him more excited, leaning in. He crowds you with his body, his broad shoulders and muscled forearms trapping you against his wooden counter.
“Y’ain’t got no boy at home, do ya? Some yellow-bellied greenhorn, trying to touch on you like this?” He’s almost angry at just the idea of you having a younger beau waiting for you at home. No man has ever called you pretty, let alone the prettiest thing he ever saw. Maybe being alone on this mountain has driven him mad. “Wouldn't blame the feller, I ain’t exactly no better,” his hands tighten, pinch into your flesh, to almost the bone.
“Sir, you must be drunk, I don’t think you mean that,” his expression becomes more annoyed at your words.
“So you do?”
“No, I don’t have anyone, Mr. Morgan,” his grip is on your waist now, just under your breasts. A satisfied smile stretches his lips, his eyes relax again.
“You can call me Arthur but I kinda like when you call me that, respectful little girl I got. N’ I ain’t the kinda man gets drunk on half a bottle,” The front of his wide frame is up against yours again, a quiet groan leaving him, something rather stiff presses into you. “Mean every damn word I’m sayin’. I look like I’m a liar?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Your voice falters slightly, “I’m sorry, I hardly know you, Mister, I shouldn’t be here, I can’t-” You sound so squeaky and whiny but you have no wherewithal to notice. Your hands come up to grab him, trying to push him away in a panic. He’s finally pushed you enough that you’ve started to squirm.
“Don’t worry, honey, I’ll make an honest woman outta you, said I’d never leave ya alone,” Then there’s an iron grip on your wrists. “Swear I’ll make you my wife,” He’s shushing you, calming you like a skittish mare. His lips against your ear, the scratchy stubble on his jaw against the delicate skin of your face. Your arms stop pulling so he lets you go, slowly. He takes a deep breath, thinking for a moment. He deliberates, looking down at your chest, at your face and hair. You look up, bewildered and unsure.
“Darlin’, I’m gonna take ya to bed now and I don’t want too much fuss from you, do you understand me?” His voice is hot and cold, low like a sweeping bird of prey. Your eyes well with tears. You can’t believe that this man is the one who saved your life. His hand is around your neck, so small in his hold. You can only imagine what will take place in the next moments of your life.
“I said, do you understand me,” He punches his words out one by one. Arthur’s fingers don't tighten around your neck, a small notion of his patience. He hasn’t quite ravaged you like you thought he might either, hasn’t torn your clothes and groped at you crudely. Hasn't gripped cruelly at the hair on your head. You hum and nod, trying to stay strong but you’ve never been particularly good at that. He hasn’t been too mean about this and you hope nothing you do spurs him to be meaner.
“Good girl,” he picks you up, like the bride he thinks you are, carrying you towards the bedroom you had changed in. He’s much more excited now, happy to show off his strength. His tone is proud; you think of you but you're not too sure. You think you’ll make the distinction.
“Please, Arthur, no,” You whine through your hiccups, trying not to sound too defiant but it’s hard with the word ‘no’ in your mouth. “Can’t we jus-t-t-talk more? Please…” You cling to his shoulders, aiming for his heart strings. He looks down to your face, your appeasing expression. “We haven’t even kissed yet…”
“Well, honey, I can fix that,” His smile widens, he sets you down on the bed, blankets sprawled over the mattress. His mouth is over yours as he spreads your legs and pushes the breadth of him into the space. “You're so goddamn beautiful when you look up and beg,” His lips fit over yours and start kissing, licking along the softest flesh. You squeal and hold onto his shoulders, legs kicking weakly at nothing. His lips don’t feel unpleasant, you actually quite like the feeling of him kissing you, even with the taste of liquor on him.
“My girl's first kiss, how special is that,” It’s piping hot and messy, his spit all over you, the strange feeling of his tongue trying to touch yours, inevitably succeeding. You gasp and grip onto him. Your heart feels like it’s going much too fast.
“As good as you look wearing my clothes, I think it’s time we take these off you,” He pulls at the buttons of the long johns you put on, fiddling and then impatiently tearing at them.
‘Christ alive’ are the words he mutters when he has the front opened, staring at your breasts. Your face is white hot and your hands reflexively move to cover your chest. However, he’s faster than you, grabbing onto you. His eyes of blazing blue warn you without a word spoken, then they scan over you, drinking in every detail. His gaze makes you burn, you can feel the reverence of every second he spends committing you to memory.
Like a furnace, he runs so hot, making you sweat. His hands are slow and gentle, rubbing the swell of them, watching the way your face reflects your feelings. You're not supposed to enjoy how a man touches you, especially a man like Arthur. But his hands are just the right texture, temperature.
You can hardly think of anything to say, listening as he pants, getting spurred on by the sight of your skin, your soft underbelly and the sensitive tips of your nipples. How to make him stop is completely lost to you. A small part of you doesn't want to find out how.
“C’mere,” he lifts your midsection to his lips with his big rough hands, helping himself to you, putting one of your nipples in his mouth. Every bit of you tingles, a million shivers rack your insides. The sound you let out makes him laugh. Each swipe of his tongue, glance of his teeth on you makes you squirm. His stubble tickles your chest and scrapes roughly. Your hands are easily held down, he catches them.
“I thought I said there weren't gonna be much fuss,” His voice is firm, scolding. “Tell me you were listenin’ to what I damn well told you,” You flinch even if he hasn't even so much as raised his voice. You nod again. “C’mon darlin’, wanna hear you say you’ll be listening to me from now on,” His hands wrench the rest of the union suit off you, down your now bare legs.
“Yes, I’ll listen,” you breathe and whisper, putting those meek airs he seemed to like in you were you not giving him lip.
“That’s better, you know how to make me happy already, don’tcha?” This time, his head lowers to tuck into your neck, biting and sucking. The feeling has you squirming away more, harrowing noises that embarrass you to the core leak from your voice box. Your fingers are in his hair, legs squeezing him as hard as they can.
“You like this, I know you do,” when you try to shake your head, his hand slaps your thigh, like a horse that needs to get. You feel betrayed almost, having convinced yourself that he wasn’t lying, that he wanted to be sweet on you, marry you. That he wouldn’t hurt you. Whimpering and a small cry, make him look at you.
“Aw, honey, don’t like when I hit ya?” You’re so confused, as if he would care, his tone only slightly mocking you. A laugh jitters his words, a deep soft sound. Warmly, he kisses you, rubbing along your thigh, spreading you open. Can hardly see when his hand dips down between your legs, his thumb grazes the little slit which usually was nothing more than your unmentionables to you. The hair that grows there is tenderly pet and laid flat by gentle strokes of his fingers, making you whine, shutting your legs. To no avail on his strong grip on your legs.
“Sometimes girls who don’t listen need a little spankin’ from their daddy, don’t they? Not all the time but only when you ain’t actin’ right,” a finger of his starts to explore the tightness of you, pushing against you. Your body feels alight, a pure pleasure filling your lower belly. A pleasure which you had always been told was for lesser women. But how did he know how to make you feel so good?
“Promise I won’t hit ya if you keep listenin’, honey, never raise a hand to your face, neither. Girl like you don’t need a violent man,” your legs are tense and your lungs stall, unevenly breathing as he takes liberties exploring your most private spots. His finger is shallowly pumping against you, testing your limits, watching your face. Your body is half relaxed and half electrified. You can hardly stand to loop up at him, shy and ashamed but not enough to stop your body from relishing in his ministrations.
“Need a gentle hand, don’t you? Like when I’m sweet to ya,” dipping his head lower, he licks down the center line of your body, “need your man to lick your little pussy, sweetheart,” the sticky spit dries on your skin, mouthing at your belly and down to your pubic triangle, tongue parting the fattened folds. If you were being forced to do this, why couldn’t you fight anymore, couldn’t kick at him? Why could you only whine for him? Were you really so weak? You spasm and moan, thighs over his ears, his hair tickling you. Small fires are set underneath your skin, you don’t understand why your body panics but also receives him, wants him to continue, finds his touch pleasing.
Arthur spreads you wide over the edge of his bed. Your hazy eyes look at the wooden ceiling, hips moving around in search of the way he makes you feel. He licks along your slickness and drinks you in. After a minute of his exploratory advances, he finds the spot you so longed for him to touch, heaven blooming on the tip of his tongue. The loudest he’s ever gotten you, abandoning the fight to enjoy the smoothness of him moving in circles.
Everything seems to slow down, makes you feel as drunk as drinking that bottle of fine brandy might have gotten you. You can’t understand what he’s making your body feel and do, continuing his assault. There’s something building in you, the pleasure is stacking up and you’re not sure what should happen when you’ve no more room for it inside you anymore. It feels warm, sloshing against the walls of your lower belly. Something about him makes you feel protected, even as he goes against your will.
“Arthur,” it's embarrassing how uncontrollable you are, how you’ve just let it slip from you in the face of this man. Your rather lewd call of his name makes him groan, licking all that you’ve been leaking from his lips. You were warned that a sin such as this was simple to avoid but you had let Arthur do what he wanted with you. Any propriety of yours peeled off along with his union suit. You want to cry, every tingle, every pinprick of pleasure, every bead of sweat pushes you further. His hands hold you, thumbs pinning you wide open for him. An undignified moan has you covering your mouth. You don't want to caterwaul like a cat.
“Wanna hear you, honey,” backing away from you, his fingers taking the place of his tongue. They start pushing harder than they had before, trying to pull even more from your lips. Tears track down the sides of your face. You promised you’d listen so you let him hear your desperate whining. You call his name, your legs helping your hips wiggle. Guiding his fingers to the perfect place.
“Arthur, I can’t, stop,” It's a weak plea, something is happening to you, wells up inside you, and you feel fit to burst. Your face is all scrunched up, mouth drawn open to cry for him. He responds by squeezing your hand.
“I ain’t gonna stop, girl,” You thrash, his fingers slick, sliding in and out of you, faster and faster. The feeling of him defiling you is so warm and good, even as he holds you down, waiting out whatever wracks your body. Your back arches and he gives you an affirming noise, encouraging you to buck and meet him, crying out. Floods and floods of sensation make you writhe and twitch, your mind blank for just a moment, completely subject to his will. And he has surely imposed it on you, you lay at his mercy, panting, confused and so very relaxed. The most perfect feeling you’ve ever felt, and at the hands of a man who has just met you. At least he also proposed. You don’t have the courage to look down at him. When you do work yourself up into looking, he has the most satisfied smirk on his face, looking at how he’s ruined you with just the touch of his tongue and the tips of his fingers. With sweat dripping all over you, and your hair all tangled about you, you're hardly the image of beauty.
Yet the look he gives you makes you wonder just what he sees in you. All of the comments at just how pretty, beautiful he found you. His grumbles are low, a panther's purr, a wolf's growl.
“I don’t think you know what you’ve done to me,” He drags out his words, his hands unbuttoning his pants, pulling down his suspenders, leaving them dangling down his hips. There's an erotic undertone to the jingle of his belt as he unbuckles it and spreads it open. His shirt, he unbuttons in a hurry, ripping and popping at least two of the buttons off. Revealing his chest and his own belly, soft but still showing all the years a man like him has labored, kept himself upright on a horse for hours. There are scars, pale and jagged all over him and you think of him telling you where he got them. You're getting more and more nervous, you can see what you know men have going on between their legs but you haven't seen one so close.
Arthur is only happy to show you, rather proud looking of his manhood, standing at the edge of the bed. Your skin is damp but you can’t bring yourself to complain about the temperature. His hand comes to caress it, slow motions over the entire length, while watching your face, staring into your eyes.
“C’mere,” Husky and slow, his command moves you, makes you sit up and let him pet your hair, your cheeks. “Give it a kiss, honey, right there on the tip,” Putting your mouth on him makes you shiver, sure that this isn’t what husband and wife do behind closed doors but who were you to argue? Impolitely, you can’t tear your eyes away from him, staring at the small slit at the very tip, the vascular texture, the red and pink flush to the skin. Wiry hair crowns the bottom, the same dark blond of his stubble. His hand only covers some of it and you had thought that his hands were big. His hips inch forwards, eager to get you to lick and kiss him. Something in your throat makes you gulp.
“Be a good girl, ‘fore I lose my goddamn patience,” Rushing to appease his rather short tone, you nod and approach, trying not to seem so tense. You're sure your face gives it away anyhow but he seems unbothered, gladly holding your hair, fingers rubbing along your scalp.
“There’s my girl,” He sighs as you kiss, gentle and timid, a small peck at the very tip and center of him. It's warm but you don't taste anything with your lips closed.
“Do you… want another?” Hushed words fall from your mouth and he gives you another smug look. Looking down at you, at the way you tremble, your nude form. He must know that he has you right where he wants you, naked on his bed, about to do unholy things with him, despite your reluctance just twenty minutes ago. Easy and whore-like. You thought good men don't like women like that. Maybe he’s not such a good man.
“Mmhm, then you can open that sweet little mouth of yours,” You kiss and ease your mouth open, a groan escaping him at your tongue brushing against his smooth tip. Your mouth obediently widens to fit him over the width of your tongue, salt and the natural smell of him on your taste buds. “Take me, jus’ like that, sweetheart,” you’ve never thought in your whole life that this could happen to you, a man holding you and making you take him in your mouth. You struggle to inhale around him, trying not to retch as he pushes forward. He looks down at you, breathing heavily at the mere sight of you. Could swear there's some type of love in his eyes, some softness that gives way for you. Even if you think he’s mad.
“Don’t know how I got on without ya, darlin’, won't be able to after this,” Arthur pants out his words. His rough noises of pleasure spur you on, relaxing your jaw for him. He grunts when he hits the back of your mouth and throat and you whine, holding yourself open for him, flushed with heat. Your fingers go to touch his thighs, feeling skin you’ve never felt before. The hairs and marks on his skin are completely novel to you. The first time you’ve actually touched him. His words lull you, soothe you more than you want them to, considering he could still prove them to be empty promises.
Very suddenly, he pulls himself away from your mouth, a debaucherous line of your saliva dripping down to the floor, the weight of it pulling between you two. You feel dazed, gone from the world until Arthur pulls your attention back up, tilting your face to look upon him. He looks smitten, a thumb pulling across your lips, wet with the deed you’ve just done.
“Was gonna finish in your mouth, tha’s how good y’are, make a man like me finish from just the sight of ya, chokin’ on me,” He hitches you up the bed, so there's more space to take up more of it. You know what’s next but at the same time, have no idea what to expect.
“Look at what you’ve done, just by walkin’ in here, lookin’ like you do,” He strokes along himself again, spreads your legs, like he’s meant to be there. “Drove me damn near crazy, teasin’me, actin’ all sweet. Can tell you just need a man to be sweet to,” Your face is hot at his usual heavy flattery, not nearly close to used to it. Even after he had talked all his talk. His hands are on your hips, squeezing your waist. Then the tip of him is pressed flush to the slit between your legs. He sees the way you tense up.
“Relax, darlin’, can’t fill you up if you’re shut tighter than a frog's ass,” He chuckles and you wince at his peculiar and crude comment. “Aw, I’m just messin’, c’mon, show me that pretty little spot,” reluctantly, your legs open and you relax again, letting him cover you, press into you. “There she is, I know what you need, girl,” The push of just the tip of him makes you whimper, panicking and clenching your thighs on him. He fights to gain control of you, his voice in your ear to shush you.
He’s lost in his own pleasure for a moment, letting you cling to his chest and shoulders, pumping shallowly inside of you. The most obscene slick-wet sounds fill up the room, along with his groans, your squeaky whines. You're frightened at how quickly your body accepts the feeling of him officially taking your innocence away, turning the uncomfortable stretch into the most toe-curling warmth inside of you, the sweetest pain. Every loose part of you bounces to the rhythm of his slow rocking.
“Lemme hear how good you feel, honey,”
‘Arthur…Please,” you cry and beg for him, not entirely deciding on what you want him to do. He seems to know anyway, pushing harder and faster. Arthur may not be your husband and you not his wife, but he treats you so well, kissing you, reassuring you, holding you so tight.
“Who do you belong to?” He pants between his pleasured grunting, rocking his hips and slamming against the most sensitive parts of you. “Y’ain’t listenin’, girl,” He smacks your inner thigh, making you squeal again, clenching down tight.
“I said, who do you belong to?” His hand is on your throat, there's the smallest squeeze, right between his thumb and middle finger. The growl in his words makes you swallow, letting him feel the effect he has on you.
“You, Arthur,” Your answer is soft and just what he wanted to hear, a hazy smile breaking his straight face.
“That’s right, only man you need,” Slinging your legs up on his elbows, he makes it feel as if he’s been going easy on you, the frame of his bed almost scraping against the wooden floors. “Ain’t gonna last much longer, you’ve got the tightest little pussy,” You certainly feel as if he’s stretching you on him, the thickness and length pressing into. So delicious, you roll your hips, even if you don't notice it until he’s smirking down at you, all smug and Arthur-like.
“Gonna make yourself finish on me, sweetheart? Makin’ yourself feel good?” He lets out his gruff laugh, which compels you to stop your movements on him, shy and embarrassed. Your little pout makes him grab at your face. His wolfish grin doesn't falter, even as he grunts and forces himself as deep as he can, into the squeeze of your walls.
“Keep goin’, don’t you stop now,” He holds your face, not too harshly, you grind into him, the dirty slap of his hips into your thighs so obscene. Shivering and bucking against him, you feel that euphoria spread down your muscles, boiling your blood. Your moan has him groaning and holding you down, grabbing your hips so tight. Your spasms don’t stop him from rutting his hips into yours.
“Ah, shit, darlin’-” In a hurry, he pulls away. You whine, your body missing him, missing the stretch of him within you, the fire it sends racing up your spine. Your grip is practically tearing into his arms and shoulders. The sound he makes is like nothing you've ever heard before, a growl of what sounds like so much pleasure it's painful. Something hot and messy splatters against your skin, all over the softness of your belly. His face shows his relief, his brows are still drawn together, Arthur’s arm wipes sweat from his forehead.
He gasps for air, watching as you ease and relax. The pads of his fingertips pet down your face, so soothing and mindful. It's truly suffocating now, the heat in the room makes you wish you could open a window. You're exhausted out of your mind, limbs numb. He hums, turning you over gently, kissing along your neck and lips. ‘So good for me, honey’s and sweetheart’s and darling’s’ tumble from his lips, slow and easy praises. He licks at you like you're made of honey, down your neck and chest. Drifting off, you murmur and sigh.
Sorry if you had to repeat this lmao, thanks for reading if you haven’t seen it !!! 😭❤️❤️❤️
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midnightarcheress · 11 months ago
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Simon lives up to the nickname. 
pairing: bodyguard!ghost x actress!reader 2 | gold rush masterlist.
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every time you set a foot out of the house, he’s there. surely, a few steps behind, just like the orders say, but he’s there, hauntingly following you like a true ghost. lurking in the darkness or making himself known in broad daylight, he takes the job seriously, glaring at the people on the street who even dare to glance at you. it’s even worse when fans stop you for an autograph or a picture, towering by your side and meticulously watching every move made in your direction, getting ready to pounce at any minute.
the first few days were weird. he could sense how disconcerted you acted in his presence, even while flashing him a smile and saying a sugary ‘good morning’. maybe it was his size, maybe it was the mask, maybe it was the fact that a man was actively following you nearly every second of the day. the last thing he wanted was to frighten you.  
after a few weeks though, he noticed you getting accustomed to his company. he watched from behind how your back wasn't as tense, how you stopped glancing over your shoulder to check if he was still there, how you weren’t jumping anymore when he’d get closer, how you even tried to make small talk, despite his grunt-like answers. 
Simon didn’t want to admit it, but he couldn’t have been more wrong about you. you weren’t a pretentious rich brat as he expected. you were always polite, always smiling, always treating everyone in your way with nothing but kindness, something he wasn’t used to seeing. he reasoned that it was just your job as a very public person, after all, you had an image to uphold and he’d never actually seen you without the constant risk of being photographed and blasted online.
but in that moment, he couldn’t help the genuine concern for your safety starting to fill his chest and surpass the mere contract bond. he would catch himself staring at you for a little too long as you walked together, eyes attentively chasing the sway of your hips in each movement of your legs, the delicate way your finger held a pen whilst signing your name, your beaming irises whenever a child recognized you. he couldn’t bear the idea of being acknowledged on the street for his acts like you do.
“just ignore them.” you say, looking over your shoulder and noticing him stopping on his tracks on the pavement. for Simon, dealing with the paparazzi has been the most difficult part. military training comes in both an advantage and disadvantage, as his sniper eyes bust them from a mile away, spotting the greedy lens with intense precision, no matter how well-hidden they think they are. but the hard task is to keep his anger and itch to rip the camera apart at bay, when all they want is to snap you in bad light and sell it to the first rubbish magazine.
he grumbles, muttering cuss words under his breath. “you’ll get used to it.” the sympathetic tone of your voice eases a bit of his annoyance, going back into walking right behind you. 
the smell of freshly brewed coffee fills his nostrils as he opens the door of a small cafe for you to come in, rapidly scanning the room for threats. at that point, he already had your order memorised by heart. medium iced americano, no sugar. too bitter of an option for someone who looked so sweet, despite being accompanied by whatever muffin the store had left. 
“Ghost?”
his crossed arms tense up when you call for him, brows knitting together as he assesses the situation for any problem that may have appeared in the seconds he stood distracted by the waving of your hair under the air conditioning breeze. “mhm? what is it?”
“i asked you if you want anything.”
his knee-jerk reaction is to say a hasty no, thanks, but he’s finding it harder and harder to deny your offerings each day, when the small curve of your lips as you patiently wait for his response is so tempting. think faster. “uh, guess i could go for a tea. earl grey.” 
you nod and hand the barista your card, quickly paying for the order and standing by the counter. he remains a few steps back, waiting for the drinks with you. as soon as it’s ready, you hand him the cup of tea, fingers gently grazing over his, sending lightning sparks on his skin. keep to yourself, Simon. 
he shakes the feeling away and opens the door again, catching your eyes flicking to the silver pendant around his neck. once again, old habits die hard. he still wears his dog tags, the glinting metal serving as a constant reminder that he’s Simon Riley civilian, but will always be Simon Riley soldier. 
“military?” you question, stepping back to match his pace and walk by his side, curious eyes searching for his hardened gaze.
“yes.” his voice is sharp, settled in not prolonging the conversation.
you hum, turning your head back to the horizon, “that explains your skill set.” only then he shifts to see your face, raised eyebrows and question marks oozing out of his head. you chuckle, amused by his confused expression, “i got a file on you too, Simon.”
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antheyaaa · 10 days ago
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"Love in Every Little Thing"
Tom Taylor x reader
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The morning of Valentine’s Day started like any other. The soft golden light of sunrise spilled through the curtains, warming the sheets as you stirred awake. But the moment your eyes fluttered open, you realized something was different.
The bed beside you was empty.
And then, you noticed the note.
A single red envelope rested on Tom’s pillow, your name written in his unmistakable handwriting.
Curious, you sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you carefully opened the envelope. Inside was a small card, decorated with delicate gold details.
"Good morning, my love. Today is all about you. Get dressed, something comfortable. I’ll be waiting for you downstairs.
— Your Valentine ❤️"
A smile tugged at your lips as excitement bubbled in your chest. Tom had always been romantic, but this? This felt different. It felt big.
You quickly got out of bed, throwing on something comfortable but cute, your heart racing with anticipation.
As soon as you stepped out of the bedroom, the scent of fresh coffee and something sweet filled the air.
When you reached the living room, your breath hitched.
Tom stood there, looking as handsome as ever in a soft sweater and jeans, holding a tray with breakfast. But it wasn’t just any breakfast—it was your favorite, with everything plated so perfectly it looked straight out of a fancy café.
The entire room was decorated with fairy lights and rose petals, a soft love song playing in the background.
Your heart melted on the spot.
— "Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart."
His voice was warm, full of that teasing affection that always made you weak.
— "Tom…" — you whispered, stepping closer.
— "Sit, sit! Breakfast first, then we start the surprises."
— "There’s more?"
He gave you a boyish grin, setting the tray down before pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead.
— "Oh, love, we’re just getting started."
---
Surprise #1: A Day of Adventure
After breakfast, Tom took you outside, where a sleek black car was already waiting.
— "Where are we going?"
— "You’ll see."
You gave him a playful glare, but the way he squeezed your hand in his, eyes sparkling with excitement, made it impossible not to trust him.
The drive was filled with soft music, stolen kisses, and Tom’s fingers lazily tracing patterns on your hand as he drove.
When he finally pulled up to the destination, your jaw dropped.
It was a private hot air balloon ride.
— "Tom!" — you gasped, turning to him in shock.
He just smirked, clearly pleased with your reaction.
— "Thought we could start the day with a little adventure."
As you stepped into the basket together, the world stretched out below you, vast and breathtaking. The wind played with your hair as the balloon rose higher, the view of rolling hills and rivers unfolding like something out of a dream.
Tom stood behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder.
— "Beautiful," — he murmured.
You turned your head slightly, expecting to see him looking at the landscape.
But his eyes were on you.
Your cheeks warmed as he tilted his head, pressing a kiss just below your ear.
— "I meant you, love."
---
Surprise #2: A Love Letter Hunt
When the balloon ride ended, Tom drove you to a quiet, scenic park where he handed you another red envelope.
— "Time for the next part of your Valentine’s surprise."
— "Another note?"
— "Oh, love, this isn’t just any note."
Inside was a small clue, leading you to a specific spot in the park. When you got there, another envelope was waiting.
Then another.
And another.
Each one contained a handwritten letter from Tom—little memories of your relationship, things he loved about you, and promises for the future.
By the time you found the last one, your heart felt like it might burst.
Tom stood nearby, watching you with the softest smile.
— "You really wrote all these?"
He stepped closer, brushing his fingers over your cheek.
— "Every single word."
Your throat tightened with emotion.
— "Tom, this is—"
Before you could finish, he pulled you into a slow, deep kiss, one hand resting against the back of your neck, the other pressed firmly against the small of your back.
When he pulled away, his voice was a whisper against your lips.
— "I love you. So damn much."
You didn’t even try to hold back your tears at that point.
---
Surprise #3: A Candlelit Dinner for Two
As the sun set, Tom drove you to your final surprise.
A private rooftop dinner, fairy lights strung across the terrace, a table set just for two, overlooking the city skyline.
Your eyes widened.
— "You planned all of this?"
Tom chuckled, pulling out your chair for you.
— "Of course, sweetheart. You deserve nothing less."
The meal was perfect. Your favorite dishes, a bottle of wine, and endless laughter. Tom kept reaching across the table to hold your hand, his thumb brushing over your skin as if he needed to be touching you.
At one point, he stood up, reaching out his hand.
— "Dance with me?"
There was no music—just the distant sounds of the city below. But when you stepped into his arms, it didn’t matter.
Tom swayed with you, his hands firm on your waist, his lips ghosting over your forehead.
— "This has been the best day of my life," — you whispered.
— "Oh, love, I’m just getting started."
His lips found yours, slow and deep, stealing your breath as the city lights flickered in the distance.
You melted into him completely, knowing without a doubt—
This was love.
Not just in the grand gestures, but in every little thing.
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Hey, I hope you had a good Valentine's Day, because I don't have any Valentine this year, it was Tom Taylor. There is a chance that I will post something else about the volume on Valentine's Day, so stay tuned.
With love-Antheya
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majycka · 6 months ago
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Megumi stans....we won, I guess? maybe just for now..
JJK 266 THOUGHTS AND SPOILERS AHEAD!
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Aight megumi enjoyers, at least one of us has been in the trenches when Megumi was getting SHOVELED PILES OF SHIT ON for losing his will to live when he's a traumatized 15 years old boy having a valid reaction to a death of a loved one (aka who may I repeat, HEAVILY REITERATED in the manga is someone whose his entire desire to live hinges on). As of from the currents chap, I'm considering Yuuji's acknowledgement/understanding to Megumi's actions a W for us or idk maybe that's just me because he gives Megumi the empathy and understanding he needs in his crazy ass suicidal life, and it raises the question of whether this is gonna fully push Megumi for his comeback moment?
More yapping under the cut
In order to explain why the magnitude of this chapter is such an important development for Megumi, his trauma needs to be discuss first and, there's four people we need to go through to reflect his stages of life. Toji, Tsumiki, Gojo, aaaannd Yuuji! :D
TOJI, the dad who left for milk.
Although we barely see any interaction with these two (only one fight scene from them), Toji no doubt kickstarted the trauma of Megumi the moment he decided to left for milk and never return again. He's traumatized by the Zenin's which explains why he acted out in that way and abandoned his child. All he's life he's treated as the outsider for being the odd one out. He lashed out from it as he got stronger, calmed down when meet Meg's mom who then died, and went back to lashing out again, forgetting that he has a tiny son waiting for him at home. Big L for Toji.
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I know that Gege reiterated in his interview that he wants to craft a story where there's no right and wrong people, but I'm gonna proceed to be harsher towards Toji here because he's the ADULT situation. Yes, a traumatized adult who's fucked up and not perfect, but I still hold him accountable in perpetuating Megumi's trauma because Toji proceeded to repeat the cycle of trauma that moment he decided to leave, thinking that turning over Megumi to the Zenin is the best option cuz he got The Ten Shadows Technique. From Toji's perspective, it seemed the better option because he was raised knowing his no cursed energy made him an outcast in his family. It's drilled to him that cursed technique was everything for Zenins, so of course, he thought that his son with a valued technique will make the Zenins, olympic gold medal holder of abuse, treat him better. But, heck no! Just look what happened to that Naoya, who despite being raised differently as Toji or Maki and Mai, ended up as a piece of shit. In the end though, I gotta give him the bareeeessst minimum because he kinda pushed Gojo to interfere with Megumi being sold off to the Zenins(which has another set of problems discussed for the later part of discussion).
I try to stay true in including Gege's intention in writing here, and also other nuanced perspective cuz that's the type of series JJK is that yes, Toji DID care for his son in the barest minimum and in his most emotionally stunted way.
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However, the damage is done, and Megumi is left with no prime adult caretaker to protect/guide him with only an older sis to have any resemblance of it .
2. TSUMIKI, the manic pixie dream girl sister.
To define the term (as I've stolen from Google) , manic pixie dream girl (MPDG) means "a type of female character depicted as vivacious and appealingly quirky, whose main purpose within the narrative is to inspire a greater appreciation for life in a male protagonist." They are often associated as love interest in movies, BUT I AM NO WAY SHAPE IN FORM ENDORSING MEGUMI SEES HER THAT WAY. Instead, I am using MPDG as a loose term to describe Tsumiki because like most MPDG, we barely know ANYTHING about her actually and we only saw her through the eyes of Megumi which is being pretty and dead.
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Not essentially dead and not essentially just pretty because Megumi described her to be the model of a kind person and someone that Megumi wishes to protect, aka his greater purpose of life, which is yah, great, but we are stuck with this perception of Tsumiki. We don't know her, and I think the closest thing we got an unbiased perception of her is when she chucked a cartoon of milk to Megumi (she will call out his BS). This connects back with Megumi's trauma because who else are you gonna hinge your will to live on when the prime adults in your life failed you? He sees her in a brighter light in order to survive. A way of coping mechanism even.
AND YET, despite all his talk appreciating her kind traits and killing people in the culling game to get back to her, you would be surprised that instead of apologizing to her that he was all emo about, he was a dick to her when they reunited. 💀💀
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And in fact, the narrative punishes him for this flaw.
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To the point that when Sukuna took over his body, he "killed: Tsumiki in his hands which didn't just left Megumi the guilt and shame of being a dick to his sister before she dies but also the impression that Megumi was the one who "killed her." This makes Megumi an active participant to his own tragedy, and it serves a big slap on his face that he's also at fault here.
3. GOJO, the traumatized bro who tried his best.
This is definitely the raging hot debate of the fandom which is their dynamic, and my take breaks this perception of the uwufied Gojo a lot of the fandom seems to like. Yes, I do see Gojo as another perpetrator to Megumi’s trauma, another adult that failed him but not in such of a black and white way thinking of Gojo’s the wholly bad guy here. Believe it or not, he’s still a part of the chain of generational trauma, being a "chain" as in he's a victim AND perpetrator of the system. I called him the traumatized bro who tried his best here because as much as Gojo knows how cruel the jujutsu system is for the kids, he still unintentionally passes over the core mindset of such cruel system to Megumi since Gojo still did grew up in this system normalized in his eyes.
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"Jujutsu Sorcerer is an individual sport."
I say "unintentionally passes" because no, Gojo doesn't have the same intention as Zenins/majority of the system who drills "strength is everything" in the most fucked up way possible. Yes, he enjoys Megumi’s company and treats him nicely. Yes, he sticks his neck out for him. Yes, he wants them to be strong so they can change the system. But this isn't about Gojo. It's about Megumi who still undeniably suffered from the accumulation of the few adults in his life failing him which includes Gojo. Gojo offers protection to Megumi. KEYWORD: Offers. It’s in exchange for Megumi working under Gojo as a jujutsu sorcerer. Now, for smol Megumi here, who truly going through the horror show of abandonment from his dad, agrees to it because apparently, according to Gojo, it’s the only way to protect his sister.
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"I'll take care of things! But you're gonna have to work extra hard. I'm countin' on ya."
Annnd thus the cycle repeats! Although it wasn’t as bad as Zenin’s abusive environment Toji was raised, Megumi is still pushed in the same cutthroat environment of the jjk world that Gojo believed he can survive just because Megs has a valued powerful technique if only he himself fullfills his potential, like Gojo’s Six Eyes. BUT Gojo, who delights in his power, forgets a crucial part that…..Megumi isn’t like him!
Check out what Megumi has to say. (aka bud doesn't want any of that sorcerers shit and just wants a domestic life)
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So the thing is, was Megumi ever asked his input in choosing to be a jujutsu sorcerer? Well, yah….and all it circles back to just protecting his sister and people like her. There’s a set of problems that comes with this mindset though that Gojo was valid to point out and that is Megumi doesn’t think about himself enough. “It’s ok to be selfish!” Gojo said in the context of being a stronger sorcerer.
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But at the same time, he also gave Megumi the idea to that if he doesn’t work as sorcerer, then he won’t be able to protect his sister when he was a mere 6-7y/o boy.
You know that circulating meme of Megumi pulling Mahogora for minor inconvenience? Well, guess what that tells his suicidal tendencies in protecting anyone but himself. Kid got no sense of self-preservation because his self esteemed has completely tanked itself due to his abandonment issues, and now that he’s expressing how it emotionally and physically paralyzes him, he has every valid reason to do so.
Why, yes, Gojo was 19/20 at the time he first met Megs, still a kid, doesn't know shit, and has unaddressed issues being treated as The Strongest Weapon(here’s a dedicated gojo-centric meta I wrote previously about Gojo and his issues cuz he's one complicated fool). I describe this whole situation as an unaware traumatized kid taking in another traumatized kid which is not a fun mix to have, and I understand that Gojo ain’t exactly prepared for that kind of job.
HOWEVER, I’m way harsher to point out Gojo’s failure as an adult in Megumi in the later part of the series because at this point, Gojo's a grown adult, he waxes poetry in being responsible for the next gen , and we get to see his priorities throughout the series especially with the Sukuna’s fight, like seriously he had one legitimate fun fighting someone on par with him.
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Gojo DELIGHTS in power no doubt, he chooses kids with most potential, he gets excited finding those kids, and this is the type of the closest dependable adult Megumi has in his life.
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Yes, financially supported but Gojo isn't around much when he's working and on demand sorcerer almost 24/7. That's why growing up sure do sucked ass for Megumi especially when no one’s really there to guide and to keep an eye on your development AS A PERSON AND NOT JUST A SORCERER which the latter part is what unfortunately Gojo’s more eager to do.
4. YUUJI, the guy who just wants Megumi to know he matters to him as a person.
Yuuji and Megumi were definitely the highlight of this chapter because in the bleak world of JJK where everyone seemed to be succumbing to the repeated fuck ups of the previous gen (like that Yuta-Gojo situation), this chapter actually offers that THERE IS HOPE that the new gen can do better like what Yuuji just did that the adults in Megumi's life are too emotionally stunted to do. Yuuji take the time to listen to Megumi's emotional thoughts, what he feels as a person, and not just listen, but to understand and empathize. It even took lots of attempts for Yuuji to make Megumi open up.
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He responds to Megumi's vulnerability with care and love, and Yuuji understands the pain Megumi is going through from losing his sister. With someone in pain like that, Yuuji knows he can't just go around saying "just live" to someone who's practically suicidal.
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The treat of this all is when this scene comes next. Yuuji also shows his vulnerability and expresses that Megumi matters to him!
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"It's lonely without you..Fushiguro."
This scene clearly parallels Gojo and Megumi's first meeting, so I'm gonna try to throw my two cents here and explain why Gege choose this direction. Remember what I said about Yuuji giving us the hope of the new gen escaping from the shackles of generational trauma? Well, I think this parallel is a way in saying that what Megumi needed when he was so young was someone to see him and his pain who's just a kid abandoned and forced to fend for themselves because the prime adults decided to to dip out. This is Megumi we are talking about here who's unaddressed issues stays hidden beneath all the pressure of him being The Ten Shadows Technique. He's valued for his technique. That's why Gojo showed up to meet him in the first place. That's also what the jujutsu system looked after for their child soldiers. Yuuji tries to break this chain of trauma their mentor unknowingly repeats. He'll show up for Megumi again and again because he's his dear friend even if Megumi's being difficult to be pulled out of Sukuna. And the beautiful thing is Yuuji didn't had some grand inspiring speech or grand offer to convince Megumi, he wasn't even sure Megumi will be up for it. Yuuji simply want to say that he matters to him. That understands him. That he's important to him so much he'll be sad when he dies, and it mattered.
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"This is...Fushiguro Megumi's...!!"
And now that Megumi is showing signs in taking his body back, it's now his turn to save himself. Yuuji did his part, and for someone whose future has been controlled by everyone but himself, this time Megumi gets to decide what comes next.
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