#You're now closer to the hidden good ending

[azalawa-scroggs]

.... Well, my hand slipped. I saw @rendevok's new royal AU art and talked about it with them a little bit, and two days later there was this sappy little thing :3 Fair warning that this is MUCH mushier than my usual... if you're not into very shippy stuff, stop here. xD Also tagging @anotherfangirlsworld without whom there would be nothing :3

Miles was exhausted. The campaign had been long and harrowing, ending with a merciless siege of several weeks. They'd eventually won the battle thanks to a desperate and risky scheme of Miles's, but they had lost so many people, and those that had survived were so exhausted that Miles nearly wondered if it had been worth it.

It had been, though. That was what all his advisors had said upon his return, congratulating him about his sagacity in his clever victory when Miles had all but begged for them to make sure, though foreign politics or better logistics, that such a painful war would not be be needed again.

Now, at last, after hours spent in that meeting, Miles was free. He dreamed of a good bath, of clean night robes and the luxury of feather pillows and soft bedsheets, but he knew he wouldn't be ready to sleep until a long time yet, too wired by the argument he'd had with his advisors – chiefly, one – and the hardships of the past few months.

So he found himself headed to one of his favourite places in the castle, the library. There was, hidden at the turn of a staircase, a little alcove there which held works by a favourite author of his; evocative poetry, philosophical plays, even a few treatises on art and political memoirs. Those books reminded him of home, of love, of the idealism he had lost in great part at his father's death, and it seemed, a little more every day since. It was where he always sought refuge when he felt too weary or too weighed down by life.

Those books, he often thought privately, for those were not musings fit to be heard by any others, had saved his life on more than one occasion.

He untied the fastening of his ceremonial cape and draped it over his arm, sighing as the weight fell of his shoulders. He would set it down on the back of a chair as he sat down in the quiet peace of the library. Or perhaps he would take the books back with him to his quarters, throw the cape on his desk to be picked up by his manservant, and settle in his favourite armchair to read by the firelight.

It turned out he did neither of those things.

There, in the shadows, standing in front of the hidden shelves, was the last person he expected to see: Phoenix Wright, grand duke of Borschinia and supposedly attending important matters in his own country. He seemed in deep thought, a hand on his chin, pondering the titles. Affection surged in Miles at the familiar mannerisms in the middle of all his questions, and his step hurried nearly despite himself.

Phoenix heard his approach even muffled as it was by the carpet. He turned towards him, gave him a blinding smile, and caught him into an embrace, kissing him deeply.

Miles stumbled backwards under the strength of Phoenix's kiss, one foot up the little step leading to the alcove, one foot down, but he didn't mind. Too welcome was the warm hand in his back, and even the one holding his wrist to prevent Miles from making a clumsy gesture in his haste. That one soon relented its grip when Miles slid his arms behind his neck, slotting himself deeper in his arms. Behind his back, Phoenix's arm tightened its hold, bringing Miles even closer.

“You're here... Goddess, Miles, you're here,” Phoenix whispered in awe between kisses, looking at him with stars in his eyes. His now free hand had climbed behind Miles's neck, untying his ribbon and drawing small circles at the base of his skull, his fingers tangling in his hair, much longer now than it used to be the last time they saw each other. Miles hadn't exactly found the time to get it cut. “I can't believe it.”

Miles laughed, melting into Phoenix's touch, somewhat drunk on tiredness and on the warmth of his lover all around him, the delicious sensation of his fingers at the base of his neck. “I will have you know this is my home,” he replied. “I should be the one in wonder you are here. I thought you had an important council to hold with the Feys in the coming weeks?”

“Yes, but... oh, Miles,” Phoenix replied, his voice thick with emotion. He closed his eyes and swallowed as he leaned his forehead against Miles, clearly fighting back tears. Miles frowned, taken aback. “I thought I was coming to attend your funeral.”

Ice fell into Miles's guts. Only then did he realise the way Phoenix was dressed, his uniform as official as his own. He, either, hadn't even discarded his cape.

“When did you arrive?”

“Only a few hours ago. Imagine my relief when I heard you were alive and in a meeting, for a change,” Phoenix answered with a fond smile. “But I couldn't fully shake my fear until I held you in my arms...”

He leaned down for another kiss. Miles indulged him with delight, his own heart heavy at the thought.

How he'd missed this. How he'd missed him... Despite everything, he couldn't fully regret this turn of events, if it meant Phoenix was here to welcome him home when he most needed it.

“I'm so sorry, my love,” he whispered. “I faked my death as a ploy to lower the enemy's defences, but I never expected the news to leave the battlefield... my officers had firm instructions not to write home about it.”

“Yet someone must have done it,” Phoenix said, frowning. “I imagine Lord von Karma was all too delighted to pound on the opportunity.”

Miles let out a groan.

“Of course. He's the one who would profit the most from my death. But if he was made aware, I cannot imagine he didn't know all of my plot, so why...?”

“Well, had you come back any later than you did, he would have put the full regency in place rather than the limited powers your mere absence allows him, and who knows what edicts you would have had to undo when you took back your place,” Phoenix replied. Miles couldn't help smiling at his judicious observations. Phoenix knew the laws of his country nearly as well as Miles himself did, and Miles knew he'd studied all of it to prove to the court he was the strongest suitor.

Miles sighed, rested his head against Phoenix's chest, which he could do without bending his back too much with the way Phoenix was still standing a full step higher than him.

“You're right, of course,” he said. “My death would be even more advantageous to him than marrying me off to Franziska. I'm starting to wonder if I should start looking out for assassination plots.”

He didn't really mean it, of course. Lord von Karma had all but raised him in the wake of his father's death. It was clear the man disagreed with him on many policies, now that Miles was old enough to have a mind of his own, but Miles didn't think he would truly plot to kill him.

Phoenix brought him closer and kissed him again.

“Enough talk about your death,” he murmured, and Miles, too late, remembered the grief Phoenix had gone through until this moment. “You're here. You're alive. And I want to marry you tomorrow.”

Miles's heart ached. They should have been married years ago. They were betrothed as children, an alliance decided under the blessing of King Gregory and Misty Fey of Kurain. But the death of the former, the disappearance of the latter and the opposition of Lord von Karma to the marriage, seeking to unite Miles with his house instead, had thrown a wrench in those plans.

“Soon now, love,” Miles replied, as he always did when Phoenix expressed both of their yearning, even though neither of them knew when that would be possible.

“Tomorrow,” Phoenix insisted. “We'll storm through the court and cause a scandal, I don't care, elope if we must. I'm sick of waiting, Miles. I'm sick of being afraid to lose you...”

“I know,” Miles said. He felt the same. They both felt this way, and they both knew it. “I know. If I could, I would summon an officiant to these chambers immediately.”

“Immediately?” Phoenix's eyes sparkled in the way they always did when he had a mad idea, or even when he was just indulging Miles, like now. Miles couldn't help his foolish grin.

“Yes,” he went on. “I'd call them here, in this very place, to perform the ceremony. We'd stand here,” he gently pushed Phoenix back to climb the step into the alcove. “Between the bookshelf and the window. It wouldn't take the half of an hour. Wouldn't that be lovely?”

“Very,” Phoenix said, who hadn't let go of Miles throughout this little demonstration, both hands on his hips. “I would improvise my vows, you know I don't mind speaking spontaneously. But what about you? You much prefer to have your speeches planned.”

“I've had my vows ready since I took the throne, Phoenix. I'd merely have to fetch them from my chambers.”

Phoenix let out a wordless little keen, which was extremely satisfying to hear, since Miles was the one usually prone to embarrassing noises. He kissed Miles's lips with ferocity, then his cheeks, his nose, his eyes.

“Tomorrow,” he repeated once more. “I'm serious, Miles. I can't wait any longer.”

“This year,” Miles offered back. “Since I came back before Lord von Karma could consolidate his power, this move looks very poorly on him, like the greedy grab for power it was. Stay with me a while as we keep up our efforts to remind the court of my late father's wishes. It is already apparent you would make an ideal consort, and your rushing here has only proved it further – I doubt Franziska fell for the ploy like you did, and in this instance it plays in our favour. In three months at most, we will be united.”

Phoenix nodded, looking a bit settled. They'd made such promises to each other countless times before, but this time Miles was determined to see it through.

Phoenix was right. They'd waited long enough.

“I cannot wait for the day I no longer have to be parted from you,” Phoenix murmured into Miles's ear, his breath hot and tickling. He punctuated his sentence by lightly biting on Miles's lobe, the caress of his hands in his back growing slower, heavier. “When I can live here, by your side, yours openly...”

Heat started to pool into Miles's guts. His knees weakened, and he stumbled backwards a little, holding on to Phoenix's neck. Phoenix was unrelenting, pushing him until Miles could lean on the clover wall, right next to the bookshelf, then pressing his body against Miles, his hands wandering all over his back and sides, his mouth sucking and kissing into the curves of his neck. Miles's fingers curled into the fabric of Phoenix's uniform jacket, holding on desperately.

“Phoenix...” he breathed. “My quarters – not here –”

“There's no one here,” Phoenix retorted between two kisses. “Only us...”

He pulled the curtain a few inches, hiding them from sight, plunging them more into intimate obscurity, and Miles surrendered to his touch.

[ladyloveandjustice]

I actually ended up editing the third mini-chapter significantly when I just now posted it on ao3, so I figured I'd repost it here. Extremely silly of me to put so much time into editing an update to an ao3 fic not a lot of people are reading but when you're a fan of a niche sapphic ship in relatively small fandom, you do it for the love of the game and the small crowd that supports ya.

Bakeneko

She knew one day she’d have to chase off a yokai in front of Souko, and she knew that was the day that Souko would leave her.

When the time came, they were in the park under their usual tree, and Souko had Mari perched on her lap. She was reading to her, and her voice was so soothing that Reiko's eyes had drifted closed. Tired from a late shift, she was almost nodding off.

Then she heard something rustle and a strange prickle went down her neck. She snapped her eyes open, and spotted the source of her unease immediately.

It was some kind of bakeneko, and it was licking its chops as it crept closer and closer to her girlfriend and her daughter.

“HEY.” Reiko called loudly, making Souko and Mari jump. The bakeneko snarled, its tail puffing up. Before it could choose fight or flight, Reiko was upon it. The bakeneko lunged forward, swiping its claws, but Reiko grabbed it by the scruff of its neck, lifting it in the air.

“Bad kitty. They’re mine, not yours.”

The bakeneko immediately seemed to realize it was outmatched. It froze, ears flat, watching her warily. She should beat it up, she knew she should. In the old days, she would have challenged it to a match and bound its name in the Book of Friends, ensuring it could never hurt Souko and Mari.

But she couldn't use the Book of Friends anymore. In Hitoyoshi, yokai had started constantly coming after her, trying to seize the Book, and steal its power. This hadn't been a big deal when she was on her own, but now she had Mari to protect. Now even someone like her couldn't throw away her life so easily.  So she'd left Hitoyoshi, and vowed to keep it hidden away, out of any yokai's sight and never open it again.

On top of that, well...she kind of liked cats. It was an embarrassing weakness.

So she found herself saying, “I’ll leave some food out here for you if you promise not to eat any people.”

The cat stared at her for a second. “It has to be salmon or no deal,” it said in a scratchy voice.

God, it’s like talking to Madara. “Fine. I’ll give you salmon and I won’t kill you. You’re not getting anything better than that. Now, do you promise?

  “I promise.”

 Cat yokai were weirdly good about honoring their oaths, so she let it go. It slunk away into the bushes.

Then she turned back and saw Souko watching her with wide eyes. Resignation settled over Reiko. It had been wonderful while it lasted, but she knew it was over now.

Souko frowned, her eyes narrow, mouth tense

 “I guess I’ll be picking up some salmon tonight, then.” she said.

  “Uh…” Reiko stared at Souko, light headed. What was going on? She wasn’t even going to ask her about why she was talking to thin air?

That did sort of match up with what Reiko knew of Souko. She didn’t like to push people. But this? This was way too laid back. She didn’t know what to do. Should she say something? Should she come up with a lie? She just stood there, dizzy and useless.

“Thanks, by the way,” Souko said, tucking her hair behind her ear and lowering her eyes. “For now...and back then in the forest too.”

Static filled Reiko's brain, flooding her vision, buzzing in her ears.

What did Souko know? What did she think she knew? Had she pieced together some rumors when she was searching for Reiko as a teenager and figured it out? Souko was normal, though. Why wasn’t she frightened?

She stood there, dizzy and useless, her mind torn between a million options.  She should lie. She should leave. She should tell Souko to leave. She should say something, anything.

Souko stood up, setting her book and Mari gently on the ground. She walked toward Reiko carefully, like she was trying not to startle a skittish animal. Reiko flinched back. She wanted to run. She wanted grab Mari and run far, far away.

“Reiko, it’s okay,” Souko said softly. “I don’t need to know. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I just want to be with you.”

She reached out and took Reiko’s shaking hands in hers. How are you real? Reiko wondered to herself.

 “We can act like it didn’t happen for as long as you need,” Souko murmured, rubbing gentle circles on the back of Reiko's hand with her thumb. “Just…please. Please stay.”

And inexplicably, Reiko did just that.

Paper Flowers- A Natsume Yuujinchou Fanfic

It's a Souko x Reiko fic! It's about what happens when Souko and Reiko reunite later in life, when Reiko was raising a daughter all on her own. Some old feeling reawaken and Reiko, as usual, tries to push them away...

I know I haven't finished my other Souko fic yet, but when I started this one I couldn't stop it. I really enjoyed writing from Reiko's cynical perspective and it was really interesting to thing about what it might have been like for her to have a kid, when she's so guarded and so aware of all the dangerous yokai that could hurt them. So it's exploring that along with Souko and Reiko's relationship. I'm pretty fond of this, which is nice, since I usually have mixed feelings about fics I write!

I include some very short chapters 2, 3, and 4 which are supplemental to the main story, but are little additions I wanted to write.

Ao3 Link (also at the bottom)

Paper Flowers

Reiko didn’t do reunions.

Everyone left Reiko eventually, or she cut ties first to save both of them the hassle. And whether they were human or yokai, once they were gone, she made sure she never saw them again.

Until Souko forcibly, annoyingly, made herself an exception.

Reiko was heading back home after a trip to the pharmacy, her daughter in her arms and some eyedrops in her pocket. She’d figured out the best route through downtown to avoid any yokai, but she remained alert as she walked in the fading dusk.

Then, out of nowhere, she heard something screaming her name. Hurried footsteps pounded behind her, sending vibrations up the sidewalk. It had to be a yokai. Reiko spun around, swung her fist...and barely stopped herself from decking a random woman in the face.

The woman flinched, but she apparently had no sense of self preservation, because she didn’t run away. She just panted and stared at Reiko with wide, disbelieving eyes.

And then Reiko recognized her. She didn’t look exactly the same as when Reiko had met her, her face had more of a healthy flush, her gaze was less hesitant, she stood a little straighter…but her hair still fell in soft clouds, her lips were still the color of peaches, her eyes were still warm and gentle. It was Souko.

Reiko’s fist dropped to her side. She swallowed, feeling a weird swoop in her stomach. She couldn’t find her voice, it was dried up and stuck in her throat. So she looked away from Souko and adjusted Mari, who was whimpering a little. She’d transferred her daughter to one arm when she threw the punch, and her protective grip was a little too tight. She gently stroked Mari’s hair, and her child’s sniffles died down.

Suddenly, Souko burst into tears, babbling that she’d always wanted to apologize to Reiko for the awful things she said, that she’d been desperate to see her again, that she’d waited every day for months in that forest…

“Bullshit,” Reiko cut her off icily, rubbing soothing circles on Mari’s back. “I was the one who waited for you. You never came back.”

She didn’t know what Souko was getting out of this obvious lie, and she didn’t know where this cold anger inside her was coming from. The whole mess had happened so long ago, and she’d never blamed Souko for it before now. It was just another entry on the list of rejections, an inevitable result of who Reiko was. It wasn’t a big deal. Still, she wasn’t going to play along with whatever this was.

Souko blinked. “But…that can’t be.” Her brow furrowed and her lips pinched for a second. Then her eyes went wide. “How long did you wait? Was it two days?”

“Uh…yes.” Reiko mumbled, a little embarrassed to admit it. But how did Souko…?

“I was sick,” Souko said quickly. “I couldn’t even get up for two days. But I came out to our spot on the third day. And I waited every day for two months after that.”

They both stood in complete silence, Reiko’s brain slowly processing. Yokai did tend to make sickly people worse, and Souko had been surrounded by them…and she’d guessed Reiko had waited for two days, how could she know that unless she was telling the truth? And what would the point of lying about this?

Souko really had come back. It had been a misunderstanding. All of it.

She’d made the Book of Friends, spent her teenage years challenging yokai to games, based on a misunderstanding.

Reiko burst out laughing.

She laughed until tears streamed down her eyes, laughed so hard she was scaring Mari, but she couldn’t stop. And she saw Souko was doubled over too, and their laughter joined in a chorus.

Reiko finally calmed down long enough to see to Mari, rocking her child in her arms until her cries abated, though she was still breaking out in fits of random giggles. Souko was wiping her eyes with the heel of her hand. Lots of people walking down the street were giving them funny looks, but Reiko was used to that.

“That’s really…really stupid,” Reiko finally managed to say in a raspy voice.

“It is,” Souko agreed. She straightened up, smoothing down her hair. “Let me treat you to dinner. To make up for the world’s dumbest mix-up.”

Reiko raised an eyebrow, intrigued. Souko would never have been so bold in high school. And something about the way she was looking at Reiko made her heart beat a little faster.

Following that feeling was a bad idea though.

“Well, I have a kid to take care of, so…”

Souko smiled down at Mari, who, despite the fact she’d been wailing a moment ago, smiled back. “She can come too. We can eat at someplace casual.” Then Souko’s lips pressed together and her face stiffened.  “Oh, wait…I wasn’t trying to…well, I imagine you already have dinner plans, don’t you?”

With your husband was the unspoken assumption. Reiko kept her voice light. “No plans, no. It’s usually instant ramen for me and whatever I can scrape together for her.”

Souko’s mouth formed an “oh”. Time for her to turn away in disgust, and Reiko could get on with her day. But instead, she said, “Well, since you’re free, let me feed you. If that’s okay?”

Reiko should say no. She knew she should say no. But she was so curious know what Souko had been up to, why she was here in this town, if she still liked flowers. And she noticed how Souko’s eyes softened when she looked at Mari, and how Mari was making happy noises.

Maybe just for tonight. To make up for letting the yokai get her sick. For accidentally standing her up. Then they could close the book on this.

“Okay,” she said. “One dinner.”

Dinner was less awkward than expected. The conversation flowed weirdly naturally, like it hadn’t been years since they’d seen each other. Like Reiko was someone who even knew how to talk to people.

Souko explained she was going to a university nearby and had come to town to explore for the weekend. She was majoring in environmental science, she told Reiko shyly, tucking her hair behind her ear. It was something she’d done often as a teenager, and it hit Reiko that this really was Souko.

 Reiko wanted to ask Souko some other questions, but Souko steamrolled right over her, hitting her with a barrage. “Do you live in this town? Have you been here long? When did you leave Hitoyoshi? ”

“Slow down,” Reiko said, taking a bite of her curry. She had to bite back a grin too. The way Souko was practically vibrating with curiosity was kind of adorable. “I live here, it’s been about a month and I moved a while back, shortly after I had Mari.”

 Obviously, staying in Hitoyoshi had not been an option, not when she had so many yokai after her and so many assholes to deal with. Reiko had looked high and low for a town that didn’t have many yokai, and she’d settled on this one.

“She’s beautiful,” Souko said, smiling at Mari. The restaurant had given the kid one of those paper menus and some crayons, and she was scribbling happily on it.

 “She is,” Reiko said, unable to keep a touch of pride out of her voice. “It doesn’t really suit me, the whole mom thing.” She gestured at herself. “I’m not the type. But she’d turned out great somehow.”

Reiko had honestly been terrified about bringing Mari into a world with so many dangers. She’d considered getting rid of the pregnancy at first. She didn’t want her child to go through the same things she did. She didn’t want to be responsible for a little life, one that could be so easily snuffed out, one that would constantly be in peril just by virtue of having Reiko as a mother. She didn’t want to fail Mari the way she’d been failed, hurt her the way she’d been hurt.

 But in the end, she’d decided she could face it with him by her side. And now that he was gone, all she had left of him was in Mari, a child so much more than the sum of their parts, someone so unique and beautiful and miraculous.

She could have made a different choice. Maybe it was unfair she'd saddled Mari with this one. But Reiko knew she'd do anything to protect her now. She’d do anything to give her a better life.

“I think you’re the type,” Souko said, interrupting her train of thought. When Reiko looked at her, she quickly looked away, tugging on her earlobe nervously, It was very unfair that even Souko’s ears were pretty, so delicate and petal-like. “When we were younger, you were always so patient, kind, protective…it’s not like a “mom” has to be one type anyway. And I know she’s turning out great because of you.”

 Why was Reiko’s throat tightening? Souko was just flattering her. She kept her voice light. “Oh no, it’s nothing like that. It’s just who she is. She doesn’t take after me at all.”

And Reiko was grateful for that every day. Mari had so little in common with her. She was sweet and well behaved, her eyes were a warm brown with no strange slit pupils that would invite mockery from other children, and most importantly, Reiko was almost completely certain Mari couldn’t see yokai. When an oni had stared creepily at her while she was playing in the park, Mari had just kept happily running around while Reiko intimidated it into leaving. She’d been completely unbothered by the creature with the chalky skin, stringy hair, and blackened fangs that had lurked in their previous home before Reiko exorcised it. No matter what the yokai did, Mari just never reacted, her eyes never followed them, and fear never touched her. Reiko had almost cried in happiness when she realized.

As far as Reiko knew, people who had the sight usually had it from birth, so she was very hopeful Mari would never develop it. She hoped this meant the curse would stop with her. That Mari would be able to live a normal, happy life and that if Mari had children, they would be able to live normally, and so would her children’s children…

It was more likely that the sight had skipped a generation, though. It had with Reiko’s father. If Mari had a kid, they’d probably be screwed. But, at the very least, Reiko could teach her daughter to accept people who saw yokai. She could spare her potential grandchild a little suffering that way.

  “I see you in her though. She’s got that look in her eye. Like she could take on the world.” Souko seemed entranced with Mari and Mari didn’t shy away from her gaze. She lifted her menu up and said “Flower!” pointing to an incomprehensible scribble.

“It is!” Souko said, clapping her hands as if Mari had presented her with the Mona Lisa.

“I like flower,” Mari said proudly.

 “I can make you another one! Do you want a flower?” Souko said with a sly smile.

“Yes!” Mari squeaked, nodding her head.

 Souko grabbed a napkin and started folding it quickly, her fingers moving impossibly fast. Then she presented the origami flower to Mari.

The kid's little face when slack with awe. She took the paper flower with her chubby hands, surprisingly careful as she held it.

The joy on Mari’s face warmed Reiko, and she laughed. “Wow. She usually isn't a fan of new people, but I guess you're the exception.”

She smirked, cupping her chin in her hands and studying the faint dusting of freckles on Souko's nose. “So you still like flowers?”

That field of blue flashed in her mind’s eye, and unfulfilled desire flickered.

A silky lank of hair fell over Souko’s eye as she grinned at Reiko. “Yes. I can’t garden while living on-campus, though.” Her smile turned to a frown.

 “An elite school like that doesn't have a garden? Must be hard,” Reiko replied, her words coming out sharper than she’d meant them. Souko flinched.

Great, now things were awkward and annoying. For some reason, she felt the need to smooth it over. “I bet you’re doing great over there, though. You were always smart.”

 “You are too,” Souko said softly.

“Yeah?” Reiko couldn’t hide the irritation in her voice. “Where’d you get that one? I know I’m not as smart as you, so you don’t need to pretend that I am.”

“You beat me at kakuro,” Souko said, sounding slightly pissed off herself. “And shiratori. And crosswords—"

 “Those aren’t real skills,” Reiko snapped.

“Japanese and Math aren’t real skills? That’s exactly the kind of thing that gets you into a university—”

“Do I look like someone who can go to university?” Reiko snapped.

 Souko paled, ducking her head and twisting her shirt in her hands. “Sorry.”

Reiko bit the inside of her cheek. What was she doing? She was usually so good at remaining calm and impassive, but Souko was just…bringing all this emotion out in her.

She laughed, trying to soothe Souko, but it just sounded harsh and cold. “I’m more suited to working. I’ve got a munchkin to take care of, after all.” Mari was still scribbling away, Souko’s flower on her lap.

“What kind of work?” Souko asked and Reiko could tell she was making an effort to keep her voice steady.

“Odd jobs, mostly. I work as a waitress part time, I do some yard work for random old people, some repair work, that kind of thing.”

To her surprise, Souko snickered, her face gaining some color again.

“What?”

“I want to see you as a waitress.”

“I’m not bad at it, if that’s what you’re hoping for. The boss tells me I have a great customer service smile.”

“You do,” Souko agreed, and Reiko wanted to get irritated at the subtle call out of her fake smile, but the playful real one on Souko’s face mollified her. “I just know you'd be...I mean, I think it'd be cute.”

Souko looked up through her eyelashes at Reiko, ears pink, her tongue slowly skimming her teeth.

Reiko was socially inept , but she wasn’t oblivious. She recognized the way Souko had been looking at her this whole meal. He’d looked at Reiko like that too, once upon a time. Souko’s gaze was blissful and rapt. She’d catch herself when she stared too long, blinking quickly and biting her lip. Sometimes she glanced like what whatever she was seeing was too blinding to look at.

And Reiko found she didn’t mind. That Souko’s gaze made her shiver. That it made a hunger she didn’t know she still had roil inside her.

“Are you checking me out, Souko?” she teased.

Souko paled. She slammed herself back against the booth, startling Mari. Her mouth opened and closed worldlessly, her eyes wild.

Ah, right, Souko’d probably had some bad experiences with girls who’d noticed she was checking them out. She wasn’t a social pariah, like Reiko. Being hated and threatened wasn’t the default. She had something to lose.

 “Because I think that means I’m allowed to check you out back.” Reiko gave her best mischievous smile, eyes traveling down Souko, drinking in her sunkissed skin, the graceful curve of her neck, the way her chest was heaving…

Souko’s lips parted slightly. Then they curved into a devilish grin. She leaned forward.

“You know,” she whispered, her breath tickling Reiko's ear. “I still like games, Reiko. And there’s this one I always win.”

Heat shot up Reiko’s neck.

Oh, what the hell. Just for tonight.

 And that was how what was supposed to be one dinner had ended with Souko and Reiko panting and naked on the floor of her shitty apartment, while Mari slept in the other room.

“Wow,” Reiko said, laying back on the futon. She was sweaty, ecstatic and utterly spent. “You’re really good at this.”

 “You don’t have to sound so surprised,” Souko snorted.

“How was I supposed to know you were so talented?” Reiko laughed. "I probably wasn’t any good though. It was my first time with a woman.”

“It’s not talent, it’s experience,” Souko said with an eye roll.

“Oh, is it now? I see college is very educational.”

 “Shut up,” Souko giggled, swatting at her arm. “Anyway, you were great for your first time.”

Reiko kept her grin fixed on, ignoring the weird twinge inside her. It wasn’t jealousy really…but she knew those college girls must have offered Souko something better than sex on the floor of a dingy apartment with peeling wallpaper and a weird sour smell. Souko could make love to those girls without worrying about waking a toddler, or enduring the sounds of a drunken shouting match next door. Souko could walk side by side with those girls with her head held high, because those girls had a future.

Snap out of it. So what? Who cares?

Reiko and Souko had gotten it out of their systems now. It had been fun. Probably way more fun for Reiko than Souko, but she’d still touched Reiko with a tenderness Reiko hadn’t felt since…well, in a while. She’d thought she’d never feel that again, but she had, and that was something to be grateful for. Now Souko could go back to those college girls, and Reiko would go back to her life. They could both move on and nobody would get hurt.

But then Souko interrupted her thoughts. “If you want to, um, refine your skills though, I’m happy to help you practice. Anytime.” She was twirling her fluffy hair around her finger, eyes lowered, her face glowing like the setting sun.

What the hell? Why would Souko want more mediocre sex with a poor single mom? What was wrong with her? Well, she’d always been kind. The kind of sap who probably still felt lingering guilt over that ancient comment. She was just pitying her.

 Reiko’s fingers dug into the covers, her mouth pressed in a hard line. This had been a mistake. She’d known that from the beginning, and she’d still done it, like a naïve idiot. What was she, a kid?

“It’s late,” she snapped. “Since the trains aren’t running, you’re welcome to spend the night here. I have to leave for work pretty early in the morning. I won’t wake you, but Mari probably will. But if you want to sleep in, I’ll just leave the key on the counter. Lock the door behind you and put it under the plant when you leave.”

 She laid down and pulled up her covers, her back to Souko. She closed her eyes, glad she couldn’t see her face. There was a long silence.

Then Souko spoke in an emotionless voice. “I can leave when you leave, I’m a pretty early riser. Thanks for letting me stay over.”

“Yeah. Good night.”

“Good night.”

 The futon barely had enough room for two, so Reiko had to ignore the heat of Souko’s body pressed against hers, ignore how it made her heart race.

 This is for the best. It’s good to end it now. Because if she didn’t, Souko would eventually see the real Reiko and be disappointed and scared and disgusted. No, instead of wasting Souko’s time, Reiko would say goodbye on her own terms, just like she always did.

The ring of Reiko’s alarm clock woke her up. She yawned, feeling empty and achey and like she’d barely slept. Then, with a jolt, she realized Mari hadn’t woken her up. She bolted upright. Was something wrong, was she—

 But no, Mari was at the low table, wiggling and giggling as Souko made airplane noises, ready to crash-land a spoonful of miso soup inside Mari’s mouth.

 “…Hey,” Reiko said, not quite knowing how to react to this.

 Souko gave Reiko a sheepish look. “Sorry, I might have overstepped. I wanted to leave some breakfast for you, as thanks for letting me stay.” She gestured at the little meal of miso soup, rice and tofu on the other side of the low table. “Then she woke up and started fussing, and you were sleeping pretty deeply., so I thought I’d let her have breakfast with me. Sorry.”

 “It’s fine,” Reiko said tightly. She ran her fingers through the mess of her hair. Mari was bouncing up and down, enamored with Souko as always.

“You know,” Reiko muttered. “I’ve never seen Mari like someone this much other than…” Other than her dad. There was stab in her chest, a feeling she didn’t have time for. Souko had no right to remind her of these things. No right.

She silently got up and got ready for work. Once she was dressed, she shuffled out of the closet sized bathroom and found Souko putting her coat on while Mari happily shoved handfuls of rice into her gullet.

“Thanks for the breakfast,” Reiko said, realizing she’d forgotten to say it before, and feeling kind of shitty about that. “Uh, do you need to be walked to the bus or—”

Souko smiled stiffly at her. “I’m fine.” She was clutching her hat in her hands, her knuckles white. “Reiko. I know I shouldn’t ask…but did I do something to hurt you?”

"What? No.”

“It’s just, you seemed upset last night.”

 “I wasn’t.” Reiko looked away.

  “So then why does it seem like you want me out of here as quickly as possible?”

Reiko jolted, jerking her head back towards Souko. Souko’s hands were shaking, but her jaw was jutting out, full of detemination.

Wow, she did not mince words. It shouldn’t surprise Reiko so much though, even when they were teenagers, Souko had those moments where she was weirdly direct. The way she’d grabbed Reiko’s arm and asked her name. The way she’d challenged her to a game.

“It wasn’t anything you did. I just…I just need this to be a one -time thing.”

 “If you’re saying you don’t want me that way, it’s fine. I’m not offended, and we could still be friends if you—”

“It’s not that!” Reiko’s raised voice made Mari’s lip tremble, so she quickly lowered it again. “Souko, nothing’s changed since high school. I’m still violent and scary and strange, just like you and everyone else said. If any of your little college friends see you with the ratty, crazy single mom, they’ll think badly of you. Hell, your teachers will too. You don’t need to ruin your reputation because you feel guilty or something. I’ve never wanted anyone’s pity. I have Mari, and I like being on my own. I don’t need anything else. So just…go back to your fancy school where you belong.”

Souko just stared at her. Reiko was kind of horrified all of that had poured out of her mouth, but she refused to let her embarrassment show. She kept her ever reliable bland smile fixed on her face.

When Souko spoke, her voice was rough, like someone had taken a scrub-brush to her throat. “I’ve been in love with you we were kids, Reiko. I fell for you that first day we met. And I’ve never stopped thinking of you, never stopped hoping I could see you again.”

Reiko's breath hitched. She went very, very still.

“I went to Hitoyoshi to look for you once. I was that desperate to say sorry for hurting you. I asked around, and this girl started saying these awful things about you, even said she’d put some tacks in your school shoes once…and I just…lost it. I screamed at her. I slapped her. And of course I had to run like hell after that!" Souko shook her head, chuckling. "I nearly keeled over…but it felt amazing. I’d never let myself be truly angry at someone before, I’d always swallowed my all my feelings and tried to be good. But after that day, I decided to stop caring about what other people thought. You gave that to me, Reiko. So it doesn’t matter to me what anyone says about us."

She looked at Reiko fiercely, and all Reiko could do was stare back, the smile sliding off her face.

And I don't pity you," Souko went on. " I never did. All I think when I look at you now is... if I’m not careful, I might fall for you all over again.”

Reiko's just stood there, her tongue like glue, thick and useless in her mouth. Her chest was squeezing so tight that it might cave in.

Souko waited a few seconds for a reply, and then sighed. “It’s your choice to whether believe me, and it’s your choice if you want to end this. But. If you change your mind…” Souko took her steady gaze off Reiko and fiddled with the buttons of her coat. “I’m planning to study at Chestnut Park a couple blocks from here.  I like to sit under the tree by the tulips. So if you want to give us a chance, or even just be friends, come any time from eight to six. If you don’t, I won’t be upset. It’s just an offer.”

Souko put her hand on the doorknob, then froze. “Oh, but if I’m not there, it’s because I’m very sick or dead or something like that, so do not assume I stood you up.

She opened the door, made to step out, but then she froze up again. “Oh, but in case I do get sick or get hit by a car…” She took a notepad and pen out of her coat pocket, scribbled something down, and slammed a paper on the table. “There. You can call my college dorm if you want, the RA will patch me through. Oh! Another thing! Don’t leave immediately if I’m not there, wait a few minutes! I could be in the bathroom. Right, that should cover it.”

Reiko just watched her as she opened the door again, wondering if she was going to stop again, but she didn’t. She waved at Mari. “Goodbye, Mari! I loved playing with you!”

“Bye Souko!!!” Mari called back, waving, and the door clicked closed.

 Reiko gasped softly. She had only ever heard Mari say her name. She’d never even said the name of the landlady who babysat her while Reiko was at work in exchange for a little extra rent. But after knowing Souko for one day, Mari had learned hers. The woman was magic or something.

Whatever. Mari would forget her soon enough. All of those things Souko had said, they didn’t matter. Nothing good would happen to Souko if she got tangled up in Reiko’s life. There weren’t as many yokai here as there’d been in Hitoyoshi, but it still wasn’t safe to be around Reiko. She couldn’t protect both Souko and Mari. Souko would get caught up in something, she’d see that Natsume Reiko. And then she’d leave, just like everyone else.

It was best to keep Souko a nice memory. Just another name she could think of fondly.

I thought of you every day.

Reiko glanced at her tiny closet, where she’d boxed up the Book and buried it in a pile of junk.

I thought of her every day too, didn’t I. I’ve carried her with me for so long. It was her name I wanted to keep, hers I wished I was bound to. All this time.

She shook her head. It didn’t matter. These were useless thoughts.

She picked up the piece of paper with the number on it, crumpling it. She wrenched the cabinet with the trash can open, ready to throw it away.

Mari let out a wail, nearly giving her a heart attack.

“What’s wrong?”

Mari was holding a torn origami flower with her messy little hand. It was the one Souko had made. “Broke it…broke it…” She wailed louder. “Souko!!! Souko!!!”

Reiko looked back at her hand clutching the paper. She thought, again, of the flowers she never got to show Souko. Then she sighed, and put the paper in her pocket, and went to see to Mari.

***

Sunlight dappled the woman sitting under the tree, giving her a golden glow. She read her book, hair falling in soft waves over her face, covering one eye. As she tucked the hair back into place again, a shadow fell over her. She looked up.

“Mari tore her flower. She wants you to make her a new one.”

Souko’s face split in a huge smile. “I will. I can make you one too?”

Reiko sighed and flopped down beside Souko, holding her squirming daughter in her lap. “Go ahead. You win this one."

***

Sometime later, Reiko asked Souko to teach her about origami. Then she found some blue paper and made Souko her own flower.

“Like your name,” she murmured.

 Souko kissed her deeply.

Chapter 2

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Souko looked up from her menu, eyes twinkling playfully. “Is that any way to treat a customer?”

“Shut up.” Reiko groaned, tugging at the dumb little black bow tie they forced her to wear. “Why are you here.”

“I heard a really cute waitress works here. I wanted to check her out.” Souko put her chin in her hands, observing Reiko appreciatively.

“I’m spitting in your food.”

“Promise?”

My God. What happened to that prim and proper girl I found in the woods.

But Reiko couldn't help but smile a little as she turned on her heel and marched away.

Chapter 3

She knew one day she’d have to chase off a yokai in front of Souko, and she knew that was the day that Souko would leave her.

When the time came, they were in the park under their usual tree, and Souko had Mari perched on her lap. She was reading to her, and her voice was so soothing that Reiko's eyes had drifted closed. Tired from a late shift, she was almost nodding off.

Then she heard something rustle and a strange prickle went down her neck. She snapped her eyes open, and spotted the source of her unease immediately.

It was some kind of bakeneko, and it was licking its chops as it crept closer and closer to her girlfriend and her daughter.

“HEY.” Reiko called loudly, making Souko and Mari jump. The bakeneko snarled, its tail puffing up. Before it could choose fight or flight, Reiko was upon it. The bakeneko lunged forward, swiping its claws, but Reiko grabbed it by the scruff of its neck, lifting it in the air.

“Bad kitty. They’re mine, not yours.”

The bakeneko immediately seemed to realize it was outmatched. It froze, ears flat, watching her warily. She should beat it up, she knew she should. In the old days, she would have challenged it to a match and bound its name in the Book of Friends, ensuring it could never hurt Souko and Mari.

But she couldn't use the Book of Friends anymore. In Hitoyoshi, yokai had started constantly coming after her, trying to seize the Book, and steal its power. This hadn't been a big deal when she was on her own, but now she had Mari to protect. Now even someone like her couldn't throw away her life so easily.  So she'd left Hitoyoshi, and vowed to keep it hidden away, out of any yokai's sight and never open it again.

On top of that, well...she kind of liked cats. It was an embarrassing weakness.

So she found herself saying, “I’ll leave some food out here for you if you promise not to eat any people.”

The cat stared at her for a second. “It has to be salmon or no deal,” it said in a scratchy voice.

God, it’s like talking to Madara. “Fine. I’ll give you salmon and I won’t kill you. You’re not getting anything better than that. Now, do you promise?

  “I promise.”

 Cat yokai were weirdly good about honoring their oaths, so she let it go. It slunk away into the bushes.

Then she turned back and saw Souko watching her, face tense. Resignation settled over Reiko. It had been wonderful while it lasted, but she knew it was over now.

 “I’ll pick up some salmon tonight, I guess?” Souko said.

  “Uh…” Reiko stared at Souko, suddenly feeling light headed. What was going on? She wasn’t even going to ask her about why she was talking to thin air?

That did sort of match up with what Reiko knew of Souko. She didn’t like to push people. But this? This was way too laid back. She didn’t know what to do. Should she say something? Should she come up with a lie? She just stood there, dizzy and useless.

“Thanks, by the way,” Souko said, tucking her hair behind her ear and lowering her eyes. “For now...and back then in the forest too.”

Static filled Reiko's brain, flooding her vision, buzzing in her ears.

What did Souko know? What did she think she knew? Had she pieced together some rumors when she was searching for Reiko as a teenager and figured it out? Souko was normal, though. Why wasn’t she frightened?

She stood there, dizzy and useless, her mind torn between a million options.  She should lie. She should leave. She should tell Souko to leave. She should say something, anything.

Souko stood up, setting her book and Mari gently on the ground. She walked toward Reiko carefully, like she was trying not to startle a skittish animal. Reiko flinched back. She wanted to run. She wanted grab Mari and run far, far away.

“Reiko, it’s okay,” Souko said, holding her hands up as if to show she wasn’t a threat. “I don’t need to know. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I just want to be with you.”

She reached out and took Reiko’s shaking hands in hers. How are you real? Reiko wondered to herself.

 “We can act like it didn’t happen for as long as you need,” Souko murmured, rubbing gentle circles on Reiko's hand with her thumb. “Just…please. Please stay.”

And inexplicably, Reiko did just that.

Chapter 4

Souko had gotten Mari hooked on gardening. The landlady had allowed them to start a community garden on the property, and Mari loved it when Souko would make her flower crowns. She’d watch Souko putter around the soil in fascination, only getting bored and pulling up flowers by their roots occasionally.

Mari was going to take after Souko more than her, Reiko knew it. Reiko liked to picture Mari growing up and having her own garden, maybe showing it to her own kids. She liked to imagine Souko’s kindness being passed down the generations just like with her flowers.

Reiko started buying seeds for Souko and Mari with what little money she could spare. And one day, she saw it on one of the little packages. Her breath hitched. She picked up the packet like it was something fragile and precious.

“I want to help you grow this one,” she told Souko when she got home that night, angling the packet picture away from her. Souko’s whole face lit up.

When the little thing finally, finally poked its head out of the soil, Souko lit up all over again.

“Like my name?”

“Like your name.” Reiko said, kissing Souko’s cheek.

And then, when Reiko checked one morning and it was in full bloom, she called for Souko to come.

“It’s beautiful,” Souko breathed, squatting down beside Reiko to see the azure petals up close.

“There was a whole field of these, near the woods where we met. I never got to show you. A couple of flowers can’t compare, but—”

Souko shook her head, her eyes bright and wet. “I think this is better.” She wiped her tears. “Because we grew it together. It’s ours.”

Mari, who’d been playing in the dirt nearby, toddled up to them. “Pretty!” she pointed at the flowers.

Reiko held out her hand, and Souko took it.

She’d been wrong all these years ago. It was so much better when you looked at beautiful things with people you loved.

---

And there we go! My idea for this is it's up to the reader to decide if it's an au where Reiko lives (or at the very least Souko is around for both Natsume's Mom (named Mari by me) and Natsume) or you can decide it's canon compliant and they broke up or something happened.

I originally was going to write the scenario for the break up, and then an epilogue where they got back together, and an epilogue where they didn't and canon happened. But I might not do that now, because I like how this turned out. We'll see! I might add some new vignettes later, it's just fun writing this. I hope you enjoy it like I did.

[carebearbussy]

ᥫ᭡ thinking about heian era! sukuna having a heavy breeding kink, seemingly out of nowhere.

you bring up a mere idea at dinner, the conversation quickly turning normal, to you bringing up an idea he had never given a second thought to.

"do you ever want kids with me, 'kuna?"

you would ask him, innocently enough, a sickeningly sweet tone hidden beneath your words. but you would already know the answer to this question. he would look up at you, then back down at his food, annoyance pondering his mind. eating a slab of salmon sashimi, he took a bite, chewing slow enough to hint at his potential answer. placing down his chopsticks, he would look back up at you, scoffing to himself at your foolish inquiry.

"those small, annoying humans that require too much attention for their own good? no thank you, i have better things to attend to."

he says, focusing on the meal before him. but his thoughts soon get the best of him. and now that he thinks about it, he will need an heir eventually. and not only that, but what would you be like? as a mother specifically. you would require more attention than most of the time. which was something he secretly enjoyed indulging in, despite his negative reasoning towards infants. how would you look?

you would be more swollen than usual, you stomach would grow larger by day, your breasts will most definitely become more full by the day. the bigger picture, which was you, enticed him in a way. something about seeing you round with his child really had his head going.

and so thats how you ended up here, you knees tightly locked against your stomach, as sukuna absolutely plows into your already stuffed cunt.

this was the seventh time? eighth time? at this point, you couldn't keep track. but he had came wayyyy too many times more than an average man should be able to. it was excruciating, really, the whimpers leaving your mouth, his hands bringing your knees closer to your chest with every move of his hips.

his seed was leaking out of you, glop by glop, dripping down your bottom even more, as he kept going harder and rougher. splashes of your juices paired with his cum stained the bed, the squelching of your pussy becoming deafening with every smack of his heavy balls against the rim of your ass. and the tight grip he had on your locks wasn't helping his case.

"hah, you're gonna give your king his offspring? yeah? r' you gonna be a good little mother f'me? make me an heir?"

he asks, your head barely able to focus on anything other than trying to stay sane. you felt sooo full, but this apparently wasn't enough for sukuna, or his heavy urges to breed your sloppy cunt. you nod eagerly, not wanting him to go any harder than he already has. but with the way he kept abusing your womb, it seemed like you were enjoying it, as sukuna relishes in your facial expression, your eyes rolling back, your mouth hung open wide enough to stuff two of his free fingers in.

"you'd be such a good mother, so obedient too. you wanted to rile me up, didn't you? i'll give you what you want, woman."

moaning into his fingers, you swirl your tongue around his digits, making him hum contently. you try to focus your vision onto his eyes, but the way he pushed his chest further into yours, had you practically cross eyed. hitting a new angle, you felt yourself completely let go, officially adding onto your list of orgasms you had previously had that night.

he released his fingers from your mouth, a coat of your saliva stringing upon release. he ceases to pull out of you, instead letting himself nuzzle nicely into your warmth, releasing yet again inside of you, earning a whine of complaint on your behalf. he playfully slaps your cheek with his wet hand, trailing it down to your pussy, playing in the ring of his semen around his cock. you squirm slightly, as you watch him then bring his cum coated fingers up to your mouth, pushing them back inside your mouth, making you taste his seed, some of his cum pooling around your lips.

"does that taste good? i bet it does, since you seem to love my seed so much. i cant wait to see you so full, besides from right now, of course."

[teddybeartoji]

18+ mdni; fem!reader

knight!suguru is more than glad to drop to his knees for his beloved princess.

his rough hands bunch up the skirt of your dress with haste, his pruple eyes blown wide with lust as you try to grab onto his shoulders for support. your knees feel weak, your body shaking with a mixture of excitement and pure adrenaline – this is improper, you shouldn't be doing this.

but oh, how good does it feel.

how good the knight's fingers feel as they dance on your skin, the tips of them ghosting over the soft material of your soaking undergarments. with his face hidden under your skirt, you can only imagine the hungry look he's wearing as they prepare to eat their heart out after a long, tiring day.

you rest against a bookshelf in the dark library, letting the wooden planks press into your upper back, into your soft skin. candlelight flickers across your flustered face, it being the only audience you could ever possibly allow.

what you're doing is risky, it's dangerous – but neither of you can fight the need any longer.

a quiet gasp echoes through the empty library when suguru presses a gentle kiss your core, his fingers tugging on your underwear. he can feel your legs tremble, he can feel the goosebumps on your skin; just like you imagine his expression, suguru does the same – how dark and low your eyes would be, how swollen your pretty lips. he'll get to see it all later, the masterpiece that is your blissed out face after he're done devouring you.

as his tongue lays flat against your needy cunt, the room gets flooded with hushed mewls; taking a hand from suguru's shoulder, you slot it in front of your mouth but the palm does very little to contain the sounds of pleasure that suffocate you. alongside with those, the noises that emit from under your skirt - your body feels as if its on fire.

suguru's hands knead your thighs – the very same hands that have killed, that have taken lives, are now caressing your skin with the utmost care and tenderness the knight could ever possibly muster up. this is his job afterall – to take care and to proctect, in every way imaginable; whether it's him on his knees as they get a taste of the woman they have swore to protect, or it's him dying at the end of a blade for the woman they love – it's the suguru's desire to serve.

he sucks on your clit, he tongues at your folds, drowning in your scent as he pushes you closer to your high with his skilled mouth. your nails dig into his shoulder, with most of your weight now leant against him as your body threatens to go limp, your brain turning into a mush. cries of suguru's name fall from your lips like a waterfall, with the letters coated with sickly sweet honey that reel him deeper and deeper into her core.

the obscene sounds grow louder by the second with suguru now lapping at your cunt like a starved dog, his good manners long forgotten in his clouded mind. there's a whine on the tip of your tongue, a shy and embarrassed one, but suguru doesn't falter even a bit – instead, he moves to raise your thigh up onto his shoulder, the new angle making your eyes roll back into your head with a loud gasp.

with the other hand, suguru guides you to grind against his face, his nose catching your clit with every roll of your hips and all it takes for you to finally let go, is to hear your beloved knight moan into your sopping cunt.

the back of your head meets the wall behind you with a soft thud and your eyes screw themselves shut as your whole body tenses up; you try to close your legs by pressing your thigh into the suguru's face but it's of no use because he simply digs his fingers deeper into your plush flesh and forces them apart again, so he can keep burying his tongue inside you. suguru can't let any of it go to waste – not the moment, not the saccharine slick that fills his mouth.

you clutch onto your knight as he let you ride out the high, your mumbles of 'thank you's' not going unheard in his keen ears.

before he pull away, suguru places one last kiss to your clit, gentlly as ever; his calloused hands glide over your calves and thighs when he places your leg down onto the wooden floor. with his finger hooked under the material of your underwear, he tugs them down instead of up and taps on your foot for you to raise it.

finally poking his head out from under the skirt, both of you need a moment to collect yourselves; completely disheveled, sweaty and fucked out, panting and heaving – your eyes are still heavy with a flicker of something tender inside them.

you watch the knight pocket the ruined undergarments with a kind of sly grin.

for later.

suguru stays there down on his knees, staring up at you like you're the one that hung the stars in the sky. in his head, you did.

when you try to shove his face to escape the wave of embarrassment that's creeping up your throat but when your fingers meet the slick that's covering the entirety of suguru's lower half of his face, you can't help but cringe at yourself.

and suguru falls for you more. deeper, harder.

"can— can i kiss you?"

your words are but a mere whisper, afraid to see the light, but suguru welcomes them with open arms nonetheless. the corners of his lips tug upward, his hands itching to hold her.

"of course, sweetheart."

you hold each other's gaze as he stands, the rhythm of your chests rising and falling matching in pace.

delicate fingers play with the material of suguru's shirt, a certain nervousness flowing through you despite the fact that you've done this many times before. but you always get like this – a bit shy, a bit timid, wishing to nuzzle your face into the his chest to hide from his fond eyes, the attention suddenly too much. it's the effect he has on you. but you still wants the kiss, you still want the love.

so you push through.

suguru's hand raises to his mouth, his eyebrow quirks up when he sees your eyes grow wider. "don't you want me to wipe it off?"

burns, it burns.

your skin burns.

"no..."

and it burns even stronger, even brighter, at the sight of his wolfish grin, shis sharp canines glinting at you inthe soft candlelight.

"no?"

a tease.

a shake of your head.

a searing kiss. a touch of love.

[shortnspidey]

SILENT RIFT

jj maybank x fem!cameron!reader || WC: 4.5K

SUMMARY: The Pogues finally find the gold they've been searching for after countless obstacles. However, when it comes to actually succeeding, the universe has other plans. Held at gunpoint in the middle of nowhere, a spontaneous decision changes everything. In the heat of the moment, words are said that reveal hidden feelings. Emotions run high, leading them to confront not only their enemies, but also their own emotions.

WARNINGS: established relationship, cursing, mild angst, talks of drugs, typical OBX level violence, suggestive towards the end but no smut!

A/N: Happy OBX 4 release day! This one shot is one of my old Wattpad drafts from when I was writing a JJ story. Enjoy this drabble as I try to publish another chapter of broken record or collateral hearts soon! This ended up being a long one, enjoy! Divider by @marvelstoriesepic

➩ main masterlist

➩ obx masterlist

"Hell of a job melting it down, Dr. Frankenstein," JJ scoffed, narrowing his eyes at Kiara as he stepped out of the Twinkie. He clutched the melted piece of gold tightly in his hand, its weight a tangible reminder of what everyone was expecting him to do. As the group arrived outside a shabby pawn shop on the outskirts of the Outer Banks, the rundown aspect and the graffiti on the walls made your skin crawl. The shops window's were smeared with grime, making it impossible to see inside, and the peeling paint revealed patches of weathered wood.

Kiara shot JJ a glare, her frustration evident in the tight set of her jaw and the clenching of her fists. "Like you could have done any better." She retorted, her voice dripping with sarcasm. JJ stepped closer, standing toe to toe with her, not backing down from her challenging gaze. "I could have done much better. I took a welding class," He sassed, a smirk playing on his lips. "Woah, woah, hey!" John B chastised, stepping in between his two friends.

His presence seemed to diffuse some of the tension, his calm demeanor acting as a buffer between the two. You followed his lead, grabbing JJ by his arm and rubbing comforting circles with your thumb on his forearm knowing that he was anxious. You could feel the taut muscles in JJ's arm slowly beginning to relax under your touch, the rhythmic motion of your thumb providing a small measure of comfort.

"Chill out, okay?" John B coaxed, his voice gentle but firm. You watched as Kiara's eyes softened slightly, her earlier anger giving way to a mix of concern and frustration. She took a step back, her shoulders sagging as she exhaled deeply. "It's easy for you to say that," JJ scoffed, his voice tinged with bitterness. "You're not the one that has to pawn off this piece of shit." He emphasized his point by holding up the gold bars that were now melted in a unrecognizable shape, the once gleaming metal was now a twisted, misshapen lump.

"How did I get this job anyway?" JJ muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "Cause you're the best liar." Pope replied nonchalantly, his tone matter-of-fact. Letting out a sigh JJ turned to you, his cerulean blue eyes locking with yours. His eyes were a stormy sea, filled with a mix of frustration and determination. He turned his head, tapping his cheek. "Kiss, for you know, good luck." He grinned, his usual mischievous spark returning momentarily. You rolled your eyes at your boyfriends antics yet leaned in to kiss him nonetheless.

Just as your lips were about to collide with his cheek, he turned his head at the last second, smashing his lips with your in a kiss that was way too passionate for it to be in front of your friends. The warmth of his lips, the sudden intensity, made your heart race. You could have sworn you heard your sister mutter an "aww" while everyone else fake gagged, their exaggerated sounds filling the air. Pulling yourself away from the kiss, much to JJ's dismay, you smiled, leaning up and pressing one more chaste kiss to his pouting lips.

The brief contact left a lingering warmth, a promise of more to come. "You got this," You reassured him, squeezing his bicep in emphasis, feeling the tension in his muscles. "Showtime," He mumbled to himself, mentally preparing. Straightening his shoulders, he took a deep breath, and gave you one last look before stepping forward. Behind you, Sarah reached out and squeezed your hand, her grip offering a silent message of solidarity and support. The warmth of her touch was comforting, grounding you in the moment.

Everyone followed JJ into the empty shop, the jingle of the bell on the door announcing your arrival. The sound seemed to echo in the quiet space, a stark contrast to the tension that hung in the air. "Afternoon, ma'am." JJ greeted, his voice steady but carrying an undercurrent of anxiety. The shop was dimly lit, with dust particles dancing in the beams of barely there sunlight that filtered through the windows. Shelves lined the walls, filled with various trinkets and curiosities, each one telling its own story. “Afternoon.” The pawnbroker, an elderly woman with a stern face and piercing eyes, looked up from behind the counter.

Her gaze swept over your group as you spaced yourselves around the room, lingering on JJ for a moment longer. JJ stepped forward, trying to maintain his composure under her scrutinizing gaze. "I see you buy gold," He emphasized, his voice steady but with a hint of nervousness. "That's what the sign says, don't it?" She retorted, her lips curling into a sneer. She glanced at the sign hanging in the window, its letters faded and worn. "Well, I sure hope you buy a lot of it, because I am about to blow your mind." JJ carefully opened his bag, revealing the items inside. The pawnbroker's eyes never left his hands, watching his every move with a hawk-like intensity.

"I ain't got much mind left to blow, so have at it," She challenged, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Her eyes gleamed with a mix of defiance and curiosity. "How about them gold apples," JJ replied, his voice steady as he placed the melted gold onto the counter with a thump that echoed throughout the shop. The sound seemed to reverberate off the walls, adding a weighty finality to his action. The pawnbroker chuckled cynically, shaking her head. "That ain't real," She declared, her voice filled with disbelief and a hint of mockery. Her eyes flicked to the gold, then back to JJ, as if daring him to prove her wrong.

"That ain't real?" JJ scoffed, his eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. He leaned in closer, his voice lowering to a near whisper. "It can't be," The pawnbroker pressed, her voice faltering slightly as doubt began to creep in. She reached out a tentative hand, her fingers hovering just above the gold, as if afraid to touch it. "Feel how heavy it is," He countered, his voice firm and confident. He nudged the gold closer to her, the metal glinting under the dim light. The pawnbroker hesitated for a moment, her eyes locked on JJ's, searching for any sign of deceit. Finally, she picked up the gold, her fingers curling around it.

Her expression shifted from skepticism to surprise as she felt the weight of the metal in her hand. The shop fell silent, the only sound being the faint creak of the floorboards as she adjusted her stance, the gold weighing heavily in her grasp. "Mhm, here let's get some light on that." The group watched intently as she narrowed her eyes, but nevertheless picked up a nearby magnifying glass with a light, inspecting the chunk of gold closely. "Spray-painted tungsten." She concluded, her voice laced with doubt but still firm.

"Really, okay?" JJ rolled his eyes. "Why don't you see how soft it is." He suggested. "You mind?" The pawnbroker asked, holding up a small mallet, her eyes seeking permission. "No, go for it." JJ urged, his gaze unwavering as he watched her. She brought the mallet down gently, making a small dent in the gold, then pushed down on it for further inspection. "Wow. Would you look at that." JJ remarked sarcastically, a smirk playing on his lips. "Hold your horses, we ain't got the acid test yet." She shot back, her confidence wavering slightly. "Ooh, the acid test," He turned, his eyes locking onto yours, a mischievous glint in them.

"My favorite, baby." He added with a wink, grinning as he noticed how the simple action made you flush. You pretended to be distracted by a limited edition book on the shelf, your heart racing as you tried to avoid his piercing gaze. This was certainly not the place or time. Everyone held their breath as the woman dribbled a few drops of acid on top of the gold. The liquid sizzled slightly, emitting a faint, acrid smell that filled the small shop. "Well, it ain't plated, and it ain't painted," she assessed, her tone now more serious. "Ma'am, I'm telling ya, this is as real as the day is long," He insisted, growing tired of the back and forth, his patience wearing thin.

"It looks like someone tried to melt it down," she raised a brow, her eyes meeting JJ's in a challenging gaze. The air seemed to crackle with unspoken accusations. "My mom," You stepped in, linking your arm through JJ's as the pawnbroker eyed you both suspiciously. "She had all this jewelry laying around the house, and she thought it was best to melt it down to "consolidate" it." You tried to sound as convincing as possible, your voice steady despite the nervous flutter in your stomach. The lie felt heavy on your tongue, but you pushed through, hoping it would be enough to satisfy her.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Sarah bite her lip to stop the laugh that she almost let out at your evident lie. The pawnbrokers gaze flickered between you and JJ, her skepticism evident. The silence stretched, each second feeling like an eternity. Turning around with a sigh, she placed the gold into a small scale behind the counter, the scale creaked under the weight. "Seven pounds," Her eyes widened. "That's a lot of earrings." Her voice had a hint of disbelief, and you could almost see the wheels turning in her head as she tried to piece together your story.

"Okay, to be honest, ma'am," JJ spoke, clearing his throat and adopting a more somber tone. "It's really hard to see my fiancé's mom fall apart with Alzheimer's. Breaks my heart, truly." His voice wavered slightly, adding an authentic touch to the fabricated story. "Give me a minute." She tsked, walking towards a secluded office. JJ nodded solemnly, playing into the act of the heartbroken fiancé. "Take your time, ma'am." As soon as she was out of earshot, you turned to give JJ a look of disbelief. "Alzheimer's really?" You whispered, trying to keep your voice low. The absurdity of the situation was almost too much to handle, and you could feel a nervous giggle bubbling up inside you.

"So I talked to my boss, and this is what I can do." The pawnbroker returned, holding a piece of paper with a price written on it. Inspecting it, JJ raised his brows. "Fifty thousand?" He repeated, his voice tinged with incredulity. The offer was far lower than what you had hoped for, and you could see the frustration building in JJ's eyes. "You think I walked in here not knowin' the spot price?" JJ retorted, his voice firm. "I know for a fact this is worth 140 at least." His confidence was unwavering, and you could see the pawnbroker's resolve starting to crack. "Well sweetie, you in a pawn shop. This ain't Zurich." Her voice was firm, but there was a hint of concession in her tone.

"Ninety, or I walk," He bargained, his voice steady. "Seventy, half price, and I don't ask questions about where you got this.” JJ clenched his jaw, looking over at John B, who nodded his head, giving him the green light. "I'm gonna need that in large denominations, please," JJ agreed, his voice calm but resolute. "Well, here's the snag, I don't have that much denominated. Not here anyway, but I can write you a cashier's check." JJ immediately shook his head. “No ma’am, I want the cold hard, that’s what that sign says. Cash for gold, and that’s what I expect.” He pointed to the sign on the wall as emphasis.

“Well, I have to send you to the warehouse. I have the money there. Is that alright?” Everyone in the room held their breath, watching as JJ mentally weighed his options over in his head. “Where’s this warehouse?” He finally asked, his voice steady but with a hint of skepticism. That is how the group found themselves further into the middle of nowhere following the pawnbroker's instructions to the supposed "warehouse". The road was rough and winding, lined with tall, ominous trees that seemed to close in on them as they drove deeper into the unknown.

To say you were on edge would have been a complete understatement. Every creak of the van and small jolt from where you were seated on JJ's lap made your heart race faster. "So, they keep money out here?" Pope voiced aloud the question everyone was probably thinking. His voice broke the silence, but instead of easing the tension, it only seemed to heighten it. The unease in his tone mirrored the anxiety that had settled in your chest. JJ shrugged, attempting to lighten the mood. "That's what she said," He chuckled at his own joke. "That's what she said." His snicker was met with silence, the gravity of their situation overshadowing any chance of humor.

"Stop," Pope warned, his expression hardening. The seriousness in his eyes was a stark contrast to JJ's attempt at levity. "That was cute, but definitely not the time, J," You exasperated, your voice barely above a whisper. The fear and uncertainty in your tone were unmistakable. The blonde boy nodded, his playful demeanor fading. He held onto the melted gold in one hand, the other resting reassuringly on your thigh. The warmth of his touch was a small comfort in the midst of the overwhelming tension. "I've never even heard of Resurrection Drive." Sarah inquired. "That's cause your rich." JJ mumbled under his breath.

"You've never heard of it either." Both you and Kiara retorted in unison. "Thank you." Sarah replied, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "There's nothing but weeds back here." Kiara informed the group, looking out the van's window and seeing nothing but shrubbery. JJ was about to retort with another sarcastic comment, yet he was interrupted by the sudden, piercing sound of a siren. The noise sliced through the tense silence like a knife. Sure enough, John B looked in the rearview mirror, his eyes widening as he saw the flashing lights of a car behind them, signaling for them to pull over.

"Cops? Out here?" Kiara questioned, her voice tinged with disbelief. "Are you kidding me!" JJ fumed, his grip tightening on the gold and your thigh, the panic in his eyes was evident. "What did we do?" Sarah questioned, her voice small and wavering, the fear clear in her tone. "Stash that," John B whispered urgently to JJ, who was still holding onto the gold in his hand. You quickly got off his lap and sat next to Kiara, your heart pounding in your chest. The van's interior felt even more confined as Pope and John B coaxed JJ to hurry up. The oppressive weight of the situation pressed down on you, making every second feel like an eternity as you waited for what would happen next.

Your heart sank in your chest upon hearing the cock of a gun and seeing a rifle a few inches away from John B's face. The metallic click echoed ominously in the confined space of the van. "Why don't I go ahead and see them hands in the air?" A gruff voice declared, belonging to a mystery assailant who wore a bandana on the lower half of his face. The fear that gripped your heart quickly morphed into a seething anger. You knew that voice. "All of y'alls hands up in the air right now." Oh hell no, you thought to yourself. This was going to end here and now. "No," You seethed, making direct eye contact with your assailant. You could tell by the look in his eyes that he knew you recognized him, and his cover slipped slightly.

The tension in the van was palpable, like a coiled spring ready to snap. Every muscle in your body was tense, ready to spring into action. The familiarity of the voice only fueled your anger, making it harder to think clearly. You could feel the eyes of your friends on you, their fear and confusion mirroring your own. "Just do as he says, Y/N," John B urged, his voice steady but his eyes betraying his fear. He slowly raised his hands, setting an example for the rest of you. "No," You shook your head, challenging him. The defiance in your voice was clear. The assailant's eyes narrowed behind the bandana.

"Alright, tough girl, come on out here then," He taunted, his voice dripping with mockery. "Y/N, what are you doing?" Sarah whimpered, her voice trembling as she watched you step out of the van, the barrel of the gun trained on you. "It's gonna be okay, Sarah," You reassured her, trying to keep your voice calm despite the fear gnawing at your insides. "Y/N!" This time it was JJ. His voice cracked with desperation. As your eyes met his, you could see he was barely holding it together, his usual bravado nowhere to be found. "JJ, trust me, stay here," You coaxed, trying to project as much confidence as you could muster. The last thing you needed was for him to do something reckless.

"I'd listen to the lady, unless you want your brain scattered here on the side of the road," The assailant threatened, his voice cold and unyielding. The weight of his words hung in the air, adding to the already suffocating tension. "I'll be okay, I'll be right back," You promised, hoping your words would be enough to keep your friends from doing anything rash. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for whatever was to come, and stepped further away from the van, feeling the eyes of your friends burning into your back. Once you were a safe distance away from the van, Barry lowered his rifle, letting out a surprised chuckle. "Mighty brave of you, Cameron, especially 'cause I'm the one holdin' the gun." He mocked.

"Oh please," You rolled your eyes, your voice laced with disdain. "Drop the act, Barry," Addressing him by his name with a tone of authority, you crossed your arms over your chest, standing your ground. "We both know Rafe will kill you if you so much as lay a finger on me." You smirked confidently. "Now, why don't we cut to the chase, shall we?" You proposed, your eyes never leaving his as you reached for the shiny gold diamond ring that adorned your knuckle. Barry watched in disbelief as you slipped it off and held it out to him. "Here," You coaxed, handing him the ring. "This will get you a couple thousand dollars if you pawn it off right." Barry took the ring, studying it in the sunlight. "This covers what you and your friends got, but not what country club owes me, you feel me.”

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest once more, the frustration evident in your posture. "How much does he owe you?" You asked, your voice tinged with exasperation. "At least two hundred," Barry replied, a smirk playing on his lips. Sighing, you reached into your back pocket for your wallet, picking out two hundred dollar bills. "Are we free to go?" You huffed, knowing that if this deal took any longer, your boyfriend would most likely come and take matters into his own hands, whether Barry had a gun or not. "Tell your boy toy that his attitude's gonna get him in trouble," Barry sneered. "Don't," You spat, your eyes narrowing. "If you even think of touching him, we're going to have a problem. You feel me?" You threw back his previous words with a defiant glare.

Raising his hands in mock surrender "Damn, looks like I hit a nerve." Barry chuckled. "I mean it, Barry," You insisted, your voice steady and unwavering. With one final smirk in your direction, Barry pockets the cash and the ring and climbs into his car without a single look back in your direction. You let out a breath you didn't realize you'd been holding and turn back towards the van. As you approached, the tension was palpable, hanging thick in the air. "What the hell was that?" Sarah was the first to question you, her eyes wide with concern as you climbed into the backseat as if nothing had happened.

"I handled it, it's over." You shrugged nonchalantly, but the tightness in your chest betrayed your calm facade. Sarah scoffed, clearly unconvinced by your bravado. "That was pretty stupid, Y/N," Kiara scolded, her voice filled with frustration. Everyone nodded in agreement, their faces a mix of worry and disapproval. You shrugged them off, trying to meet JJ's eyes, who had yet to say anything. You could see the worry and anger battling for dominance in his eyes, the tension in his jaw making it clear just how much he was holding back. "Let's get out of here," John B broke the silence, his voice a calm command that cut through the tension. Everyone was unharmed, yet you somehow knew this was far from over.

Arriving back at the Château, you watched JJ throw open the door before John B even parked his van. The sound of the door slamming against the wall echoed through the air. You watched as JJ stormed inside, his movements quick and agitated. One hand was gripping his chest, his knuckles white from the pressure, while the other was balled into a tight fist, veins visible under his skin. He didn't look back, his anger propelling him forward. John B, Kiara, Sarah, and Pope turned to you, their faces a mix of concern and curiosity. It was as if they were silently asking if they should get involved, their eyes darting between you and the direction JJ had gone.

"I'll handle it," You sighed, feeling the weight of the situation settle on your shoulders. You stepped down from the van, the gravel crunching under your feet. "Good luck," John B sing-songed, a teasing lilt in his voice. You flipped him off with a smirk, hearing Sarah and Kiara scold him in unison. Their voices faded as you walked through the door, the familiar scent of the Château enveloping you. You found JJ in the spare bedroom, pacing back and forth like a caged animal. His footsteps were heavy, each step reverberating through the wooden floor. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, filled with a storm of emotions - anger, frustration, and a hint of vulnerability.

"JJ, talk to me," You urged softly, stepping closer. Your voice was calm, trying to soothe the tempest within him. He stopped pacing and turned to face you fully. His expression was a mix of anger and hurt, his jaw clenched tightly. "What the hell were you thinking, Y/N? You could've gotten yourself killed!" His voice cracked slightly, betraying the fear behind his anger. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, but you took a deep breath to steady yourself. "He's the scumbag who sells coke to my brother. I know him and what he's capable of. As much of a psychotic asshole as he is, he wouldn't hurt me. Not without facing Rafe's wrath." That only made JJ angrier. "How are you so sure?"

He shook his head, his eyes narrowing as he stepped closer, the space between you shrinking. "Maybe next time you won't be so lucky, or I won't be there to protect you." His voice was low, almost a growl, and you could see the worry etched into his features, mingling with the anger. His fists were clenched at his sides, and his breathing was ragged. "I'm fine," you replied, trying to sound reassuring. "It's over now." "Over?!" JJ's voice rose, and he ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. "Dammit Y/N, you don't get it!" He screamed, pulling his hair in frustration. "I was fucking terrified. Did you know how scared I felt, watching the woman I love being held at gunpoint?" His voice broke, and you could see the tears welling up in his eyes, though he tried to blink them away.

You opened your mouth, but nothing seemed to come out. The weight of his words hung in the air, heavy and significant. "What did you just say?" You finally managed to whisper, your heart pounding in your chest. JJ stayed quiet, almost as if processing the words himself. His breathing slowed, and he looked away, his shoulders slumping. The vulnerability in his stance was palpable, and it hit you just how deeply he cared. This was more than just anger; it was fear of losing someone he couldn't bear to lose. "JJ," You coaxed to stop him from overthinking, knowing that his flight or fight mode was kicking in.

JJ's confession hung in the air, the raw emotion in his voice making your heart ache. You could see the fear and love in his eyes, and it made everything else fade away. The room seemed to shrink, and all that mattered was the two of you, standing there, vulnerable and exposed. "I love you, Y/N," He repeated, his voice softer this time, filled with a desperate need for you to understand. He took a hesitant step closer, his eyes searching yours for any sign of rejection. Your breath hitched, the intensity of the moment overwhelming. Without thinking, you closed the distance between you, your hands reaching up to cup his face. "I'm so sorry, JJ," You whispered, your voice trembling.

"I didn't mean to scare you, but I couldn't just stand there and do nothing either." His eyes softened, the anger melting away as he leaned into your touch. "Just promise me you'll be more careful," He murmured, his forehead resting against yours. "I can't lose you, Y/N." He whimpered leaning his forehead against yours. "You won’t lose me, ever, I promise," You replied, your voice barely above a whisper. Without another word, you both closed the distance between one another, your lips meeting in a kiss that was both tender and fervent. It was a kiss that spoke of all the fear, the love, and the relief you both felt. Bodies pressed together, seeking comfort and connection, hearts beating as one.

“And I love you too,” You grinned the second he pulled away giving you both a moment to catch your breaths. “In case that kiss didn’t make it clear enough.” JJ shook his head, only pulling you closer. "What do you say we seal the deal?" JJ grinned suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows. "You're lucky I love you." He didn't even give you a chance to finish his sentence before he kissed you again, wanting to show you just how much he meant it. His hands slid down your back, pulling you even closer, the heat between you growing more intense. The world around you faded away, leaving just the two of you in a moment that promised so much more to come.

[yanderenightmare]

Genderbend Himoko Toga

♡ TW: yandere, blood, wounds, kidnapping

♡ FEM reader

He's uncomfortably tall. Lurking and towering in the corner, blade tickling his lips and smile glinting as he runs his tongue over his teeth, eyes glowing bright yellow and dead-set on you.

Many in the league are bigger than you, but Toga really takes the cake when it comes to height. He doesn’t look like much standing next to Muscular, despite sharing the same eye level, but next to you? He can't even rest his chin on the top of your head without having to bend over.

You don't often see the muscle in him, but you’re smart enough to know what’s hidden within his large beige sweater. Long serpentine arms that sling around you like a boa much too quick for you to escape and fight, joined by slender fingers that seem to curl around your everything with ease.

You don't know why you're thinking of him at a time like this. Maybe the entrapment felt similar, where you were strapped to a chair, blindfolded, surrounded by gruff voices discussing whether they should kill you to send a message or bargain for something better.

It was clear they didn't realize you didn't mean shit to the League.

Your body hurts—aches from wounds and smaller cuts you’d sustained when they'd taken you. They hadn’t played nice. But you suppose you ought to see it as respect—however misplaced—that they regarded you with the same merciless ruthlessness as if you were a real League member and not just some toy they keep around for funsies.

Suppose Toga would just get a new one now.

Your kidnappers will realize it soon enough—how no one’s coming for you. All that effort wasted—must make them mad. They’ll probably kill you before long. But right as you’re accepting your end, there’s a sudden commotion...

Angry voices turn to panicked shouting. Then silence.

You wonder what’s going on.

You hear footsteps coming closer—light ones moving slowly across the floor until stopping before you.

Cold hands cup your face in a familiar hold, sliding your blindfold off, only to reveal a pair of yellow eyes staring back at you.

"You–” Your voice comes out thin and dry. “You came..."

Toga smiles at you—that same way he always does, bright and creepy with his fangs on display. "Of course we came, silly doll,” he gushes, nose-kissing you with a humming chuckle.

There’s a scoff, and another voice, one steeped in sarcasm, drawls, "Yeah, fuck forbid Toga's favorite toy wound up in the wrong hands."

"Tch–we’d never hear the end of it…"

Standing behind your unlikely savior’s crouched form is a familiar duo—one raven and another white-haired.

"Don't listen to them, dolly. They’re too blind to see you like I do."

Toga pouts, shaking his head at their words as he brings forth his knife—blood-drenched and still dripping from the assault. You spot the bodies on the floor and can’t help but cringe. Skin rippling with shivers as he uses the same blade to cut loose the ropes binding your feet to the chair. 

Dabi shrugs, "Don't get me wrong—she’s a pretty bitch, but pretty ain't worth all this mess." He kicks one of the limp bodies they’d dropped. Blood seeping out on his shoes.

Shigaraki grins, looking at you and your bloodied face, "She ain’t too pretty no more, though.”

Dabi, too, chuckles at the sight. "Yeah, they fucked her up a bit, didn’t they.”

They both snicker. "Sure you want damaged goods, Toga?”

Again, Himiko just shakes his head and ignores them, looking at you through those slim eyes full of something that scares you way worse than the men from earlier. "We should pity them, dolly. They don't have what we have. They don't love the way we do.”

He leans over your lap, bloody hands on your thighs as he looks up at you half-mast with pupils wide like the void—forgetting to cut free your bound wrists in favor of basking in the look on your pretty face.

“You're worth everything to me. Everything and more.”

With a blush dusting his cheeks deep pink, he graces your face with his knife. You swear you see his eyes nearly roll back—elated by the red staining your otherwise smooth skin.

"They really did a little number on you, didn't they~” he sighs with a flutter in his chest, biting his lip as he leans in closer for inspection. "Hmm, maybe I should've thanked them before cutting them up.”

He zeroes in on your popped lip and licks his own—voice coming out darker with what he says next, "They made you even cuter than before…”

The other two grimace before rolling their eyes and taking their cue, leaving you to fend for yourself. Not that you expected anything else. Though, you’re starting to believe you were better off with the previous kidnappers compared to the one in front of you.

"All bloodied and bruised…” 

Toga’s eyes get misty, overwhelmed by the tasty sight. 

"Don't worry, dolly—I'll nurse you back to health."

♡ BNHA masterlist

[catboyieejeno]

mingyu + foreplay

18+ minors do not interact!

• kim mingyu, who leaves so many kisses all over your body that you can't get the feeling of his lips off your mind for days after.

“god, i could kiss you forever.”

• open mouthed kisses along your neck and the expanse of your chest first thing in the morning, panting and groaning into your skin and muttering a string of pleas and praises with his little lisp, that’s even more obvious when he’s just woken up

“please let me feel you, need to feel you so bad right now,”

• or at night, dragging you onto his lap fresh out of your shower to wrap a hand around your jaw/throat and kiss your lips slowly and sensually. would drag his palms along your spine to pull you closer, all the way up until his fingers disappear into your hair, the smell of your body wash and shampoo driving him up the wall and making his dick swell up in his sweats

“y’smell so good. fuck, i just wanna taste you,”

• the feeling of his hot tongue dragging across your stomach and thighs is so dizzying that it immediately makes your vision lose focus. he's obsessed with being the reason for that look on your face, eyes hazy and glossed over, drooling lips wordlessly begging him for more.

“mmm, look at you. my pretty baby is fucked out already?”

• makes out with your pussy over the layer of your pretty cotton panties until you're soaked-through and whimpering. absolutely loves when your squirm or try to wiggle away. loves to subtly dance along the line of edging and overstimulation.

“don’t run baby, let me make you feel good. you can take it right?”

• doesn’t abuse his strength, but will use it to his advantage when it comes to sex. keeps your pretty legs pinned open, or your hips rolling against his nose and tongue while you’re sitting on his face, even when you’re so exhausted from coming that you can barely hold yourself up

“I got you, honey. stay just like this f’me.”

• if any if the members are there, he’d cover your mouth with his hand to muffle your whimpers and cries as he rubs your clit with his fingers relentlessly. mind you—a few things can be true at once: yes, he loves the noises you make and would do absolutely anything to hear them as loudly and clearly as possible. yes, he doesn’t actually care if the members hear, nor does he care about the teasing he’ll have to endure later (besides, he knows they can probably hear you either way, despite his best efforts to keep quiet). while those facts are both very true—god, does he love how shy and nervous you get at the thought of being overheard by them, eyes blown wide and brows furrowed as you struggle to keep still and quiet all at once.

“Gotta be good and stay quiet, baby. you can do that, right?”

• loves to tease you before actually putting it in: taps his head against your puffy clit, presses himself to your entrance only slightly, chuckles breathlessly when his tip is so fat that it slips and ends up just laying heavy and hot on your pelvis or poking your thigh instead. slides his dick between your lips until you’ve soaked every inch of him and you’re shaking with need from the stimulation to your clit and the desire to just be filled up.

“be patient, yeah? let me enjoy this pretty pussy.”

• so easily distracted by you… if you were helping him with dinner he’d turn off the stove at the sight of you in your little shorts or lack-thereof, if you’re wearing just his shirt. immediately bends you over the counter and eats you out from the back, face buried in your pussy and hands sliding your shirt up or pinning your wrists together on your back

“forget the food baby, it can wait when you’re wearing those little shorts…”

• pictures. of your tits covered in his spit, of the marks he left on your ribs or thighs, of your spent pussy covered in his cum, of your hands wrapped around his cock, of his hand print on your ass—keeps them in a hidden photo album and jerks off to them all the time when he’s away. sends you videos of him touching himself, audio on.

“m’thinking about you. and looking at our pictures. goddamn… wish i could fuck you right now. i miss you so bad.”

[leilakisakabiri]

Caught In the Act (LN)

Summary: Having your relationship outed on a live stream.

Warning(s): None.

A/N: Requests are open. Writing for Charles or Lando for F1.

Word Count: 700+

Masterlist

You always thought secret relationships were taboo, something destined to end in disaster, something you couldn't possibly fathom being ok with - that was until you ended up in one.

You're not even quite sure how or when you both silently agreed to keep your relationship under wraps, but slowly it became custom to always sit with at least one person in between you when out in public, and leave in separate cars to the same destination.

You both had your own reasons for not wanting to go public. For you, it was losing the normalcy you had in everyday life, being able to work a normal job without people prying into your private life. For Lando, it was to hide you from the onslaught of hate you both knew you would receive for even being spotted with him. He was in high demand these days, especially with the rise of F1 in the last few years, and he wanted to keep the relationship as normal and healthy as possible without the additional pressure of everyone else.

He had seen so many relationships - even his own, end that way, and he would be damned if he had to let you go because of it.

So hidden it was.

You joked with Lando that it was private, not secret, but at the end of the day you both knew that there was only a handful of people who knew and some of them didn't know if it was official or something more casual.

It was good that way. But lately, you were starting to get a bit more antsy, and a slip was bound to happen. Especially since your relationship was long distance, with you living in London, and Lando out in Monaco.

However, since it was summer break, he was back in London for a bit, and you were staying over at his place.

Since you still had to work during the weekday Lando had started streaming again, passing the time till you were back.

You came home earlier than expected today and wanted to surprise him with a pastry from his favorite bakery.

You silently closed the door as you entered, heading in the direction of the bedroom. You peeked your head inside, seeing him playing a video game with his back turned.

You tip-toed behind him, cringing when the paper rustled against your clothes loudly, thankfully he couldn't be less aware of his surroundings.

Which maybe was an issue.

You leaned over his shoulder, closing his eyes.

"Guess who?"

His arms reached out behind him to grab you as you let out a giggle, dropping to pepper his cheek with kisses.

"Hi baby," He smiled at your affection.

He spun around, pulling you closer by your waist, forcing you to put a knee between his thighs so as to not lose balance.

Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, the croissant getting crushed between the two of you, as he deepened the kiss.

His hand traveled to your cheek when suddenly he froze. You pulled away confused, seeing him look at you with wide eyes.

"What?" You questioned, at the same time he let out a, "Holy shit!"

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." He quickly moved you away from him, turning back, hands flying across the keyboard.

"What's wrong?" You asked again still confused.

It was only once you saw the screen switch from the game to the display of the Twitch stream that you realized.

Your hand immediately shot up to your mouth in disbelief as you gasped, making eye contact with a panicked Lando.

You thought it over for a second, and you were less angry than you assumed and it was probably bound to happen anyway so you sighed, "Well it is what it is," with those final words the stream ended and you were left with the revelation that you had both just outed yourselves.

He turned to face you slowly, brain still not processing what just happened, as he ran a hand through his hair, "Fuck I'm so sorry y/n I forgot I was on stream."

You looked at him shrugging, "Honestly, I'm not as upset as I thought I'd be. At least it's out there now."

He groaned, "This is not how I wanted to go about it."

"Maybe they'll think it was friendly?"

"Sure cause I kiss all my friends like that." He deadpanned.

Your hands went up in defense, "Hey, they don't know what you get up to."

He only continued to slide further down his chair.

You laughed, tugging him closer, "It's fine, I'm sure we can still soft launch on Instagram if you want."

[serawritesthings]

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

OUR DEAR, GREEN LITTLE FRIEND

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cold?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, kind.”

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

“Sure.”

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, I-” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you jealous of Charles?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Only me, right?”

“Only you, stupid.”

[doll3scent]

★ Pornstar 4 ★

John Price x Cam girl! reader

Warnings- 18+-mdni, smut, age gap, cam girl reader, explicit language, sex, meeting up, angst if you squint, choking, overstimulation.

wc. 4k.

a/n. next chapter has jealous price ♡

3, 4, 5,

master list 𓂃۶ৎ

You hesitate, your breath catching as his words linger in the air. Could you really risk it? The thought sends a rush of nerves and excitement through you, twisting in your stomach. You glance at the screen, seeing the way he's watching you, his eyes dark and expectant.

Your fingers toy with the edge of your stockings as you think, biting your lip. If you kept your mask on, it wouldn't be much different from this, right? Just like the call, but... more real. The idea both thrills and terrifies you, the possibilities racing through your mind.

You finally look up at him, your voice soft and a little shaky. "If I kept the mask on, would that be okay?” You're not sure if you're trying to convince him or yourself, but the way his smirk grows tells you everything you need to know.

Price's smirk deepens, his eyes narrowing slightly as he leans closer to the camera, the intensity of his gaze making your stomach flutter. "That'd be more than okay, doll," he replies smoothly, his voice like a low purr.

"If that's what makes you comfortable, you can keep the mask on. But I won't lie... I'll be tempted to try and see the face hiding behind it."

The way he says it sends a shiver through you, a mixture of nerves and anticipation building in your chest. He leans back in his chair, his hands resting on his thighs, as though already imagining himself in your space."So, what do you say, sweetheart?" he asks, his tone still calm but with an unmistakable edge of hunger. "Give me an address, and I'll be there."

You hesitate again, chewing your bottom lip as your mind races. Every logical thought screams at you to say no, that this is reckless. But the heat in his voice and the way your body responds to him drown out those warnings. Slowly, almost hesitantly, you nod.

'Okay," you whisper, barely loud enough for him to hear. Then, with trembling fingers, you type out your address into the chat box, hovering over the send button. One final look at his waiting expression pushes you over the edge, and you press it. Price's smirk grows into a full grin as he sees it, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. "Good girl," he murmurs, leaning forward again. "'ll be there soon."

The moment the call ends, you practically leap off the bed, your heart pounding in your chest. You grab your favorite silk robe, the soft fabric sliding over your skin as you tie it snugly at your waist. The delicate material clings to your curves, brushing against your thighs as you move. It gives you an odd mix of comfort and vulnerability, the thin robe doing little to calm the nervous energy buzzing through you.

Panic and excitement course through you as you scramble to dismantle your setup. Your hands shake slightly as you unplug your camera and switch off the lights, tucking everything away in their designated hiding spots.

Your gaze darts around the room, catching sight of the framed photos on the shelves and walls. Your stomach tightens at the sight of the ones with your brother, his familiar grin staring back at you. No, Price can't see these. He can't know how closely tied you are to his world. You rush to the first photo, pulling it off the wall and stashing it in a drawer. Then another. And another.

Each one feels like a ticking time bomb, and you're determined to hide every trace of your connection to your brother before Price arrives. Your apartment feels bare and strange by the time you finish, the personal touches that once made it feel like home now hidden away. But at least you feel slightly more in control. With one final glance around, you smooth down your hair and check your reflection in the mirror. He'd be here soon, and you had to be ready.

You busy yourself with tidying up, your hands moving quickly as you straighten the sheets on your bed, fluff the pillows, and tuck away anything that feels out of place. Candles are carefully adjusted, their warm glow casting flickering shadows across the room.

As you pick up stray items and smooth down every surface, you glance at the clock, your heart racing at how little time you have left. You pause for a moment, catching your reflection in the mirror. The robe drapes perfectly, the lace of your stockings peeking out beneath the hem. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

The knock echoes through the apartment, sharp and commanding, making your heart leap into your throat.

You freeze for a moment, your breath catching as reality crashes down. He's here.

Your hands tremble slightly as you grab the delicate white lace mask from your vanity. You tie it carefully behind your head, adjusting it so it sits perfectly over your face. The sight of yourself in the mirror-rosy cheeks, the silk robe barely covering your body underneath, and the mask concealing just enough-makes your stomach flutter with nerves and excitement.

Taking one last steadying breath, you pad softly to the door, your bare feet brushing against the cool floor.

Your fingers linger on the handle for a moment, heart pounding as you brace yourself. Then, with a soft pull, you open the door.

He'd knocked on your door, but it felt like an eternity as he stood there, every second stretching the tension in his body. The sound of his heart pounding in his chest was drowned out by the anticipation, the unknown.

When the door finally opens, his breath catches, his eyes instantly scanning you from head to toe. The sight of you-barely covered by the silk robe that clings to your figure, the mask adding an air of mystery-makes everything inside him tighten with desire.

Without waiting for an invitation, he steps into your space, his presence filling the room. The door clicks shut behind him, and before you can take another breath, he's backing you up against it, his body coming to a complete stop just inches from yours. The heat between you both is undeniable, and the closeness makes your pulse race. His hands rest on the door beside your head, caging you in as his gaze locks onto yours, eyes dark and full of hunger.

His large hands tug at the silky robe, untying it swiftly and pushing it off your shoulders. It pools at your feet as he lifts you up against the front door, kissing you hungrily, his rough hands roaming over your bare skin.

"Lift your leg,"

Carrying you effortlessly, he strides into your bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him. He tosses you onto the bed, crawling over you with a predatory gleam in his eyes.* "Been thinking about this fucking pussy all day,"

You sink back onto the soft, plush silk pillows, your body sinking into the luxurious comfort beneath you.

Your head tilts back, exposing your delicate neck, the satin fabric of the pillows caressing your skin. You gaze up at him through the mask, your eyes heavy with desire, the delicate lace adding an air of mystery. Yours breath catches as you watche him, the flicker of anticipation in your gaze making it clear you’re ready for whatever he has in store. The room feels charged, every breath between you and him is thick with tension, as he takes in the sight of you beneath him.

He studies your features, committing every detail to memory before leaning down to press his lips to yours in a searing kiss. His hands roam over your face, your hair, your neck, as if he can't get enough of you.

His fingers trail down your body possessively, unbuttoning the silky nightgown you wear, revealing your soft and creamy skin inch by inch. He breaks the kiss to look down at you, his eyes darkening with desire as he takes you in, only your stockings. Your perky breasts bounce free, the rosy nipples hard and begging for attention. He cups one in his hand, squeezing gently before leaning down to suck the other into his mouth.

You pant softly, your head tilting back as he sucks on your nipple. Your small hands clutch at his broad shoulders, nails digging in slightly. You spread your legs wider, unconsciously seeking friction against his hard length through his pants. He releases your nipple with a soft pop, his gaze flicking up to yours as he speaks. “You want it, don't you? You want my cock inside you so badly." He reaches down, gripping his belt and undoing it quickly before tugging his pants down.

You nod frantically, Your cheeks flushing a deep red as you watch him pull his pants down. You can see the outline of his thick, hard cock straining against his boxers and your mouth waters at the sight. “yes...please... I need you...”

"Look at you, such a fucking desperate little thing." He hooks his thumbs under the waistband of his boxers, slowly pulling them down to reveal his full, hard length. “See what you fucking do to me?" His massive erection springs free, standing tall and proud. You gasps, your eyes widening as his massive erection comes into view. you swallow hard, your small hand reaching out to touch it tentatively. You wrap your fingers around the thick shaft, barely able to close your hand around it. "It's too big..."

He chuckles darkly, his hand reaching out to cover yours. “Too big for what, sweetheart? You think this is too big to fit inside your tight little cunt?" He gives his cock a few strokes with your hand, coating your hand in precum before pulling your hand away.

Your knees tremble at his words, your pussy clenching around nothing. You watch as he coats your hand with precum, your mind reeling with the realization that his thick length will soon be stretching you tight virgin hole. “It's too big... It'll never fit inside me..."

"Oh, it'll fucking fit. I'll make sure of it. And when I'm finally buried deep inside you, splitting that virgin pussy wide open... fuck, you're gonna take it like a good girl, aren't you?" You can feel the wetness dripping down your thighs, your pussy aching with need “Yes I promise I will”

You can’t hide your surprise as your eyes flicker downward. The toy you’ve used before was nothing extraordinary—just average in size—but him? He’s longer, thicker, and far more intimidating. A shiver runs through you, equal parts nervousness and excitement, as the realization sets in. You swallow hard, your cheeks flushing, your mind racing with thoughts you can barely keep up with.

He spreads your folds with his other hand, exposing your wet hole to the cool air before slowly sliding two thick fingers inside. "Fuck, you're tight." He begins pumping his fingers in and out, scissoring them to stretch you out. "Gonna add another finger, sweetheart."

He adds a third finger, curling them to hit that spot inside you that makes your legs tremble. "That's it, take my fingers deep. You're gonna need to be nice and loose for my cock." He pumps his fingers faster, his thumb rubbing against your clit.

“Oh god..." your hips buck slightly as he hits that sensitive spot perfectly, while his thumb circles your clit. The dual pleasure is overwhelming. “Mmm, that's it, feel good?" He watches your face, enjoying the way you moans and screw your eyes shut as he fingerfucks you. "You're doing so well, taking my fingers like a good girl."

You’ve never felt anything like this before, the way his fingers are stretching you and his thumb rubbing your clit is driving you wild. "Yes- feels so good daddy”

His breath catches at you calling him 'daddy', and he pumps his fingers faster, deeper. “Fuck, listen to you being such a good girl. Does daddy make your pussy feel good?" He adds more force behind his movements, curling his fingers harder against your G-spot.

You moan, your eyes widening in shock and pleasure as he continues to assault your G-spot with brutal efficiency. “Yes, daddy!"

"That's it, call me daddy while I fuck your little pussy with my fingers." He pulls his fingers out suddenly, leaving your hole empty before grabbing his cock and rubbing the head against your soaked folds. “Gonna fucking destroy this tight little cunt."

He guides the thick head of his cock to your entrance, rubbing it teasingly before slowly pushing forward. The tip sinks in stretching you impossibly, a low groan escaping him. “Fuck, you're tighter than anything. Damn near strangling my cock."

You cry out, your back arching off the bed as he pushes his way inside you. The pain is intense, like you’re being torn apart from the inside out. You can feel every thick vein and ridge of his cock stretching you open, the head bumping against your cervix. He pauses, allowing you to adjust to his size as he buries his face in your neck, biting back a curse. “Shit, take a breath sweetheart”

You pant, trying to draw in a breath as he fills you so completely. You can feel every inch of him pulsing inside you, hitting spots you never knew existed.

He slowly starts to move, pulling out until just the head remains inside before thrusting back in, his thick cock slamming against your cervix. “Fuck, you were made for my cock. So fucking tight." He sets a brutal pace, pounding into you with merciless force.

Your eyes roll back as you adjusts to this new reality. You can barely speak, your voice choked by the overwhelming sensation of being so completely stuffed. “More... please, daddy... more..."

He growls in approval, driving into you harder and faster, his heavy balls slapping against your ass with each thrust. “The way you beg..." He grabs your hips forcefully, pulling you onto his cock with each thrust. Your body bounces on his massive lap as he pulls you onto his thick length over and over. You can feel him getting deeper with each brutal thrust, hitting spots that make you see stars.

Price groans deeply, feeling you tightening around him, his fingers dig into your hips. “Fuck, ‘can feel every tremor, sweetheart. Your hungry little cunt squeezing me so hard." He leans forward, capturing a nipple between his teeth and biting down just shy of too hard.

You arch off the bed, your sensitive nipples throbbing from the rough treatment. "Daddy..” you wrap your arms around his neck, clinging to him desperately as the pleasure becomes almost too much to handle.

His voice is pure gravel, nearly unrecognizable with lust as he feels you completely lose yourself in pleasure. “Yes, fucking screaming it. Show me who owns this tight little pussy." He drives into her so hard the bedframe slams against the wall, completely losing control. “You daddy!”

He withdraws with a low growl, his hands gripping your hips firmly as he maneuvers your pliant body. In one swift motion, he flips you onto your stomach, leaving you breathless at the sudden shift. His hands slide down to your waist, pulling your hips up and positioning you just the way he wants— your ass high in the air, a silent demand for more.

His large hand presses against the small of your back, guiding you to arch deeper, and then it moves to the back of your neck. He firmly presses your face into the mattress, the roughness of his movements igniting a mix of anticipation and raw desire. You can feel his heated breath on your skin as he looms over you, taking in the sight of you completely at his mercy. "Stay just like that," he rasps, his voice dripping with dominance, making it clear who's in control.

He kicks your legs further apart and grabs your hips possessively, pulling them up to meet his brutal thrusts. He spanks you hard on the left cheek before slamming into you again, filling you to the brim. “Who's filling this pussy up?"

Your muffled cries are barely audible as your face is pressed into the mattress. You can feel every impact of his hand on your ass, the sting only adding to the overwhelming sensation of being so thoroughly fucked. "You are daddy!!” your voice distorted by the mattress.

Feeling your pussy clench desperately around him, Price snarls in savage lust. He leans over your back, surrounding your smaller frame with his much larger one as he delivers another sharp spank. "Fucking right, it's daddy's cock tearing up this greedy little cunt."

He increases his pace. One hand migrates to your hair, fasting a handful and pulling your head back while his other hand keeps a tight grip on your hip. Growling into your ear, his breath hot against your neck, Price relentlessly pounds into you. "Fucking hell, the way this slutty cunt squeezes... Like it's begging me not to stop."

You whimper and pushe back against him, completely mindless with lust. Your usually gentle personality completely taken over by the rough fucking. “Please daddy... please keep fucking your needy girl...”

His movements become even more primal, losing all semblance of control. "My needy fucking girl? Is that what you are? A desperate little whore for daddy's cock?" He spanks you again before tilting your hips higher for deeper access. “Yeah... yes daddy! I'm your filthy whore... only yours... oh god, fuck me harder, please!!"

A feral grin stretches across his rugged face as he hears your desperate pleas. He leans in close, his stubble scraping roughly against your shoulder as he growls. "That's fucking right, you're only daddy's filthy little fucktoy. Gonna ruin this tight cunt..."

Your entire body clenches at his filthy words, pushing you closer to the edge of another orgasm. You can't believe how dirty You sound, how badly you craves his rough treatment. “Fuck Daddy... I'm so close..”

His fingers dig cruelly into your hips as he pulls you back onto his brutal thrusts, his other hand finding your throat to restrict your air slightly. "Not yet, you greedy little slut. Daddy's not finished ruining this needy hole yet”

Your vision starts to blur from the lack of air, but you can still feel everything so intensely. The pressure on your throat, the brutal fucking, the desperate need to be filled... it was all too much. “D-Daddy... please... I need-“

His breathing becomes more labored, aware of how close you are. He loosens his grip on your throat just enough to let you speak. "Need what, baby? Need daddy to fuck you harder? Deeper? Fill this sloppy cunt with my cum?"

You gasp in the air he allows, your voice shaking with desperation. "Yes daddy... I need you to fill me”

A dark chuckle escapes him as he feels you shudder beneath him, teetering on the edge. His hips snap forward relentlessly, each plunging thrust hitting that sweet spot deep inside your core. "Such a desperate little cum slut..."

“Please daddy! let me cum..”

Growling fiercely, Price finally relents, thrusting deep and grinding against your clit. "Fuck yeah, cum for daddy. Cream all over this dick like a good little whore."

Your entire body seizes up as the orgasm crashes over you. You comes hard, your pussy clenching and rippling around his thick length as you scream in ecstasy. “OH FUCK YES DADDY!!”

As you cum, Price's control snaps entirely. He roars in triumph, his hips pistoning wildly as he buries himself to the hilt inside you. His cock twitches violently as he unloads a massive load of hot, thick cum deep within your spasming pussy. Even as he fills you with his seed, Price keeps fucking you through his own release, lengthening and thickening as he breeds your needy cunt. Gasping raggedly, finally slowing his brutal pace, he releases a shuddering groan as the last spurts of cum paint your insides. Leaning heavily against your back, his muscular chest heaves against you. "Fuck... that's it, milk every last drop from daddy's cock, you filthy cum slut."

You whimper and moans with each twitch of his cock, feeling completely stuffed and utterly satisfied. His powerful arms wrap around you, pulling you even tighter against him as his hips hitch forward, burying himself impossibly deeper inside your quivering tummy. He nuzzles his face against your neck, inhaling your scent deeply.

"You take daddy's cock so fucking well, baby. Like you were made for nothing but being bred and filled full of my cum.” He murmurs possessively, his hands roaming over your body, squeezing and groping your tits and cunt hungrily. " He rolls his hips languidly, grinding his still-hard cock against your tender walls, stirring up his thickload within you. “Mmm, fuck. You're just dripping with my cum. Such a dirty girl, getting fucked stupid and bred like a bitch in heat."

You let out a soft whimper, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. Instinctively, you try to pull away, but he firmly catches you, dragging you back onto his cock. His strong hands grip your thighs and pull them back, opening you up wider as he settles back in between your legs, his powerful hips pushing forward to bury himself even deeper within your convulsing belly. "Where are you going to run off to now, hmm?”

You whimper and struggle weakly against his grip, but it's no use. You’re trapped, pinned beneath his heavy weight, his thick cock buried deep within your stuffed cunt. “P-please... daddy... I can't...s’too much!”

His expression darkens, turning primal and intense. “Too much? He growls, snapping his hips forward and bottoming out inside you. “Fuck that, baby. You can take every fucking inch of daddy's cock like the good little whore you are."

Your face flushes deep red at his filthy words, but your inner walls clench hungrily around his thickness anyway “Daddy... you're being mean..." you whimper, but you tilt your hips back slightly, inviting him deeper. He lets out a dark chuckle, knowing exactly what those whimpering tones mean. “Mean? Or giving you exactly what your needy little pussy wants? Look at you, writhing on my cock like the cock-hungry slut you are."

"Mmmph!" your protests dissolve into a long moan as he hits a particularly deep spot, your nails digging into the blanket beneath you. Despite your words, you grind back on him wantonly. “Daddy..." you whine softly, completely lost in pleasure and submission. His eyes gleam with possessive hunger as he watches her lose herself on his cock. "That's right, baby. Grind that needy cunt back on daddy's cock. Show me how much you love being stuffed and bred by your big strong daddy."

One hand moves to gently to tug softly at your mask "Baby... don't you think it's time for daddy to see that beautiful face while he fucks you?" His voice drops to a husky whisper as he continues thrusting deep inside her. “No…I can’t…”

Johns voice is a low, gentle rumble in your ear. “Please, sweetheart. I want to see you. I want to see your face”His fingers trail up to your cheek, gently tracing the edge of the lace mask, his touch achingly soft. There’s a mixture of desire and tenderness in his gaze, and he seems to be pleading with you to let him see you without the mask in the way.

Price can sense your hesitation, he can see the fear in your eyes. He knows you’re worried about him recognizing you or judging you once the mask is off. But he already knows who you really are. He looks into your eyes, trying to soothe your nerves, his touch still gentle as he cups your face in his hands. “Please, baby. Let me see you. I won’t judge you, I promise”

“…I can’t..”



[reiderwriter]

🔐 Password Protected 🔐

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge 2024

Requested: "Hii Kacie, may I put in a request of a NSFW prompt? Any plotline or back story is fine I trust your talent :"> Reader's boobs/asscheeks recoill during sex turning Spencer on even more "I wish you could have my view right now" he grabs the phone to open the camera app."

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, DubCon Hidden camera, dry humping, free use, soft to hard Dom!Spencer, sub! Reader, creampie, unprotected sex, slight breeding kink, implied oral sex, implied bondage, implied somno, pictures/ photos, degradation (slut, whore etc,) and pet names (Princess, sir, angel etc,), nipple play/torture, multiple orgasms.

A/N: Here's my second fic for the CM Kink Bingo 2024~♡ I'm definitely all over the board now, so who knows if I'I hit bingo this year, Imao? Anyways, I hope you enjoy~ And to my dear friend :"^ anon - thank you for your inspiring request.

Masterlist || Bingo Board

With a glorious lull in cases to close over the summer, the biggest mystery in the BAU was “What's in the locked folder on Spencer's phone?” 

The man had made the (technologically inept) mistake of leaving his new phone unlocked on his desk in a bullpen full of criminal profilers. To say you'd all descended like vultures to a fresh carcass was putting it extremely lightly.

“What apps does he have? Five dollars says there's a dictionary app,” Emily joked, leaning over Morgan's shoulder to try and catch a glimpse of the screen. You were similarly perched at his other shoulder. 

“He can probably recite the dictionary himself, and I don't think he'd know how to download apps,” you scoffed, scrolling up in the phone yourself to the app page. 

“There's got to be something good in the camera roll, right?” Morgan said, clicking into it to find some dirt on the much too innocent Spencer Reid. Which is where you'd found quaint pictures of the sky, some pages from a book and the folder. 

The one with a little lock on it signalling the boundary. Spencer had figured out how to use a locked folder - you'd be impressed if you weren't so curious about what was inside. 

“Placing bets, people? My money is on work documents,” Morgan chuckled, losing interest swiftly in the phone and pressing it into your hands. “It's not like the kid has a lot going on romantically, right?”

You kept your mouth shut as the others nodded in agreement. While Spencer Reid may not have anything romantic going on officially, he definitely had something sexual going on. You'd been in his bed five of the last six days, losing count on the amount of times he'd fucked you into oblivion, using your body as freely as he wished, cumming inside of you to finish before washing off all traces of your coupling and cuddling upto you as you slept. 

It wasn't quite a relationship, but dear god, did you never want it to end. You hadn't been so satisfied, so fulfilled (emphasis on the filled) in a long time. 

“What are you doing with my phone?” You heard Spencer question from behind you, and you turned, trying to mask your embarrassment. You really didn't want him to think you were some obsessive not-girlfriend going through his messages, and almost dropped the phone like it was a bomb when your eyes met his. 

“We were just debating what you could possibly have to hide in your gallery’s locked folder,” Emily laughed, clapping the man on the back and smiling up at him. “Help me win $20 and tell Morgan here that you made it accidentally and don't know the password.” 

“Hey, I didn't agree to any bet yet,” Morgan laughed, kicking his feet up on his desk. 

“Only because you know you're wrong.” 

They bickered just long enough to let Spencer take a step closer to you, slipping the phone easily out of your hand and back into his pocket. His voice was low, his mouth close to his ear when he finally sated your curiosity. 

“I think you may want to distract them from this topic, Y/N. I don't think you'll like it if they demand to see what kind of pictures and…videos I have in that folder.” 

His tone wasn't suggestive, but it still lit a fire in your belly with the implication alone. You'd warmed his bed for long enough to know that you were the only one sharing it, but you didn't remember him taking any pictures or videos of you. Shit, had you been so desperate that you'd completely blanked him capturing a folders worth of images of you servicing his cock? 

You took the hunt and stepped away from him, picking up a file quickly and glancing over it before turning to Emily. Distracting them with work was the only way to keep them off the scent and distract you must.

Even if it did mean you were inconvenienced with curiosity and lust for the rest of the day. 

When you finally finished work, you practically hammered down Spencer's door, trying to get answers to questions he'd left hung in the air earlier. You were a visual learner, so you dearly hoped he'd answer by simply just showing you what you'd missed. 

“Y/N,” he said, opening the door with a sweet smile, drawing you into the apartment with a slow, honeyed kiss. You felt him smile into you, his touch chaste enough around your arms to still your beating heart. You languished in the kiss as he pulled you on closer, shutting the door behind you as he opened you up to him, pulling you further under his spell than usual. 

“I'm so happy to see you,” he said once he'd pulled away, feathering his touch across your waist, settling his hands in the crook just under your breasts, stroking the bottom of them with his thumbs. You were suddenly glad the man's hands were so large, sure that this one interaction was heaven on earth. 

He almost distracted you from your purpose for coming here. 

Pulling you to the sofa in his living room, Spencer pushed back a strand of hair, hooking it behind your ear as he let you straddle him  wrapping your arms around his neck, your head falling comfortably onto his shoulder as you inhaled his scent. 

“I'm not complaining that you're here, or anything, Y/N,” he said, hands roaming your body and stroking your ass as he spoke. “But did you have something to say? You didn't message before coming.” 

You lifted your head to look him in the eyes before looking away out of embarrassment. 

“Earlier, you…” you started, tongue going dry as he tightened his grip on your ass. He shifted slightly under you and you realized he was grinding his leg up into your clothed pussy as you spoke. 

“Yes?” 

“Your phone…the locked folder, I want to see what's inside.” 

You were sure that he knew already what you wanted before you'd even arrived, but he just smiled at you again, almost too kindly. 

“That's my private business, Y/N. Why should I let you see it?” He asked, looking good a finger under your jaw to make you look him in the eye once more. 

“I th-think… I think there are videos. Of me. I'd like to see them.” 

“Where are your manners?” 

“Please, sir,” you whispered, tipping your head forward, begging him for a kiss. “Please show me the videos.” 

He huffed out a quick laugh and gave you one last peck on the lips before he pushed you off. You sat on the floor between his legs, a position you were so used to being in by now that you wouldn't be surprised to find multiple shots of you sat like this, lips wrapped around his cock, pussy grinding on his shoes. Even the thought of such pictures had you wanting to recreate those memories, you weren't sure what a folder worth is going to do. 

Stretching over to his coffee table, Spencer picked up the discarded phone and unlocked it, flipping through some pages before looking down at you again. 

Stroking your hair, Spencer neatly arranged it before wrapping the same hand he'd been using g around your neck and pulling you gently upwards. You landed back in his lap, but he'd turned you around this time. Instead of straddling him, your back was pressed to his chest, your legs on either side of one of his. He released your neck, instead pushing his hands between your thighs so you couldn't push them together for relief - he already knew your body so well. 

“Is this what you're curious about, Y/N?” He said, finally flashing you the phone screen. The first picture was obviously taken post-sex, and you recognised his bed sheets quickly. Your face hung off the end of his bed, eyes shut as his cum painted your lips, cheeks and eyes, lips parted in a lusty moan. From the angle it was taken at, you could see your breasts swell and your hand disappear between your legs as well, stroking yourself to release.

“Shit,” you moaned, pussy clenching on nothing as it begged for relief. With a hand on your hip, Spencer started encouraging you to rock back and forward, humping his leg as he whispered in your ear. 

“You didn't know about that one because your eyes were covered in my cum. It turned me on more knowing you had no clue I was going to jack off to it later as well.” 

He scrolled to the next image, and in this one too, you seemed unaware of the camera. Your hands were tied to the headboard, and he was fucking you from behind, the shot capturing his creamy dick pulling out of you and the discarded condom on the bed beside you. 

“That was the day we learned how much more you enjoyed being filled with cum than you enjoyed condoms,” he said, scrolling to the next picture. 

“And here's your first creampie,” he said, his spare hand pushing under your shirt, fingers clamping down on one nipple as you shuddered. 

Your pace was faster now, desperately thrusting up and down his thigh. Even through your skirt and panties, you felt your wetness against his pants, knowing you'd be punished later for such unladylike behaviour. 

As if Spencer had ever wanted you to act like a lady. He knew you were a slut and he enjoyed it. 

“The next one is a video,” he said, moving his hand to your other breast and slapping it as you moaned above him. “Do you think you can handle it?” 

“Y-Yes, Sir. Please let me see it, sir.” 

“Okay, but not a fucking noise out of you. I want to hear your screams from the video.” 

You could only silently groan in reply, nodding quickly as he scrolled and pressed play. 

This one was recent, maybe one or two nights ago. You recognised the outfit you'd partially discarded, the shirt that had been ripped open. 

How had you possibly not seen the camera pointed straight at you? 

In the video, his cock was pressed into you, fucking you at a pace most would call violent  but you called heavenly. The focus wasn't on your pussy taking his cock, though, but on your boobs, recoiling and jumping with every thrust. His other hand pressed to your stomach, feeling himself sheathed there, as you moaned desperately. 

“Spen…Spen-sher,” you tripped over your tongue, slurring the words as if you'd been drugged. Your eyelids were heavy, eyes practically rolling back in your head as his hand on your stomach tightened. 

“I think I fucked your brain out, baby,” he laughed deeply, cock not relenting even one second. 

“Your tits looked so perfect,” the Spencer of the present said, pressing the phone into your hand as he grabbed each nipple and tugged them forward, leaving you gasping. 

“And you didn't even realize I was filming it all. I could've done anything to you, anything at all, and you wouldn't have cared. You'd have enjoyed it, and I'd have had the proof.” 

You were soaked now, humping deliriously against his thigh, like a puppy experiencing their first heat, desperate for this feeling to go away and for it to stay and intensify all the same. 

“You were acting so stupid. At one point, I even got you to say hello to the camera, and you didn't remember a thing an hour later.” 

Releasing one breast, he swiped one more time to the left, and you saw the beginning of another video. 

Hitting the play button, his hands returned to your chest, this time pushing up your top and bra and freely clamping down on the nipples as hard as he could. 

What intrigued you the most about this last video was the start. Unlike the pictures and the videos, you weren't in the middle of sex at the beginning of this video at all. 

You were instead laid with your back to the camera - to Spencer - a leg thrown over some unfamiliar sheets. This wasn't his bed. This wasn't yours either. 

Another minute of grinding against his leg, and you recognised the motel room from your last case. 

“Spencer, wh-” 

“Watch and see, princess.” 

The bed creaked under his weight as he climbed in behind you, removing the duvet covers from your body, replacing it with his hands. He made similarly swift work of your pajamas, only bothering to push them down to your knees before pulling out his cock and slowly pushing into you. 

If you weren't so close to another orgasm, you'd probably be shocked that Spencer had invaded your personal space and started fucking you as you slept. But that's what it meant to be his little free use slut. You allowed him access to you anywhere, anytime (including the motel room you'd given him the spare key for) and in return he dropped as many loads of his cum into your pussy as would fit there. 

Watching yourself get violated in your sleep was the last of what you needed to push over the edge. 

You grabbed Spencer's arm, gasping, and you felt him trail kisses along your neck and shoulders. 

“That's it, baby, just hold on a second while I…” he pulled the phone out of your grasp, opening yet another familiar looking app. 

You looked at the screen and found your own bare chest heaving staring back at you. He clicked the red button and forced it back into your hands as he began abusing your tits again. 

“Show the camera, Y/N. Show them how you get yourself off on my leg.” 

You complied, lifting the phone slightly to get the best view of your chest, heaving up and down as you humped his thigh into oblivion. 

Your cunt twitched and you felt fluids rushing out of you, even as your arms trembled. But you didn't let them falter  holding g up the phone to capture every second of your climax, knowing its exactly what he would want. 

“You're perfect, you know that Y/N,” he said, finally kissing the top of your head and pulling the phone out of your grasp as he saved the video into the file you'd been browsing. 

His gentleness was short-lived, though, as he pushed you off his lap and back to the floor. As you caught your breath, ass up on the floor, he took the opportunity to slip his dick out of his pants, and began stroking it up and down, inspecting your pussy with his free fingers. 

“I'll give you five seconds to get ready for the next round,” he said, and you panicked, lifting your legs off the floor. You weren't strong enough, though, or maybe you just didn't want to move. He kept counting down. 

“4….3….2…1,” you heard the predatory grin in his voice as he pushed his foot onto your head, holding your cheek to the floor with one leg. 

“As you wish then, my little slut.” He moved his foot away quickly and pushed inside of you, and your last coherent thought was of the folder again, and how long he'd make you wait to see the video you were about to shoot. 

[kisakis-boyfriend]

Like Ships in the Night…On a Train… (BSD version part 1)

Author's Note: Got horny. Thought about one of my favorite scenarios. Bon appetit 👍 Other installments are already in the works for different series. :3

Pairings: Sigma, Dazai, & Chuuya x male reader (separately)

Warnings: Male!reader, dom/top!reader, sub/bottom!characters, trans Sigma, chikan, grinding, groping, fingering (Sigma), nipple play (Chuuya)

Sigma

Why is this happening to him?! He's read the news headlines about creeps groping people on trains, sure, but he never imagined he'd be on the receiving end of that!

Sigma feels helpless as the mystery man hooks one arm around his waist, locking him in this position like a caged bird. Soon, he feels a touch on his hip, sliding down to his plush thighs as he's groped right here and now — standing in front of the train wall with his hands bracing himself against it.

Panic floods in as the stranger grabs his crotch, rubbing two fingers over his slit — you both realize something in this moment; Sigma realizes that his secret may not be safe anymore, and the dangers that come with that, while you realize that you can touch this guy more discreetly like this.

Your fingers make quick work of his pants, opening them up just enough to reach inside and touch his pussy again. Despite the fact that your victim is shaking, he's already a bit wet before you're even inside. You tease him over his underwear for a second, then dive even deeper and finally touch his bare pussy.

With all of his remaining willpower, Sigma whispers a quiet plea for you to stop, and you can practically hear the tears welling in his eyes. You ignore him, of course, already sinking between his folds and groaning at the wetness oozing out just from that.

A stranger is fingering his cunt on public transit, and no one else seems to notice. Sigma can only pray that you stop before things escalate, or before you realize he's a trans man…maybe his long hair fooled you into thinking he's a girl?

That line of thought is shattered as Sigma presses his thighs together, biting back a squeal as you fingerfuck him so rough that he squirts a little, messing up his clothes as a result. As he cums, you lean closer to his ear and whisper a “Good boy~” before you readjust his clothing for him and disappear, presumably exiting the train.

You left the man as a panting, confused mess in his little corner. Left to wonder who violated him in an almost gentle way, compared to all of the horror stories Sigma read about. His pussy was still wet, and he swears that he didn't enjoy that…but the memory won't stop replaying in his mind as he lay in bed, squeezing his thighs together once again…dripping…aching…moaning…

Dazai

How bold do you have to be to think you could get away with this? Honestly, don't you recognize the man that you're attempting to grope? Do you really think there won't be consequences?

Well, ok, hear him out… You're not being rough right now — if anything, you're actually touching Dazai rather gently. Hands caress his sides, hidden by his large trench coat, sliding across his clothed abdomen almost romantically. The most you've done so far is rub his hips, not even trying to go for anything more private (yet).

What's the harm in letting this go on, seeing just where this will lead? Dazai's pretty strong, not a big muscle man, but strong enough to hold his own when need be. If things escalate too much, or he feels unsafe, he can simply reveal who he is and threaten to call the cops on you. But for now, he'll just let this play out.

You take a step closer, pushing Dazai further against the window, and he seizes the opportunity to reveal your identity in the reflection…except your face is buried in the back of his neck so he can't actually see who you are…

Dazai feels your warm breath tickling his skin, and he can feel you… wait, are you sniffing him? Really? What a creep, smelling some stranger while you're touching him. Jeez.

That's not the only thing Dazai notices though — he also feels what he assumes to be your hard-on poking his ass now that you're hugging his body tightly. You begin to move, and this is when Dazai should stop you…but he can't deny how…nice…this all feels. Especially when you reach forward and grab his hand, clasping his with yours in a strangely soft display–

Seriously, what a depraved, obsessive, sad creep you must be to hold a stranger's hand while you're smelling them and humping them on a public train. That's just not normal, dude.

There's not much more time to question anything, as you grind against Dazai's ass until your movements stutter, then eventually stop altogether. And he can guess by your heavy breathing that you just creamed your pants without ever truly touching your victim.

'How sad. That guy could easily get off by humping another guy on the train — who knows what dirty fantasies were running through his mind to make him cum like that.' Dazai thinks, stroking himself in the shower while he pictures your fat package gliding in between his cheeks again.

Chuuya

Honestly, Chuuya surprised himself when some strange man came up behind him and trapped him in the corner of the train and he didn't say a word of protest. Perhaps the shock was what prevented his usual reactions?

Shocked at how bold you were for grabbing a Port Mafia executive by the hips and forcing his ass to meet the tent in your pants, that is. Do you really think this is going to end well? Are you just so stupid that you have no idea who Chuuya is, and how easy it would be for him to use his special ability to pin you to the floor and knock your teeth out?

You're either stupid or desperate, or maybe both, but Chuuya can't think about that too much when you're already humping him so boldly. Sure, you're somewhat hidden in the corner, but does no one pay attention to the obvious motions?

Not only are you grinding against him so hard that he's forced to his tiptoes, you're untucking his shirt from his pants and sliding your hands underneath like it's totally normal! Quickly finding his nipples and toying with them so roughly that Chuuya has to cover his mouth to remain quiet.

His smaller body jerks with your every thrust, forced to submit to this gross act of depravity or else everyone on the train will find out that Chuuya Nakahara is a public use slut. His reputation would be destroyed!

So, he lets you have your way with him — thrusting your clothed erection against the curve of Chuuya's ass until you cum, grunting right into his ear — and then a familiar chime signals the opening of the train doors, and you exit, leaving the little guy high and dry and completely disheveled as his cock leaks inside of his boxers.

Now, a Port Mafia executive doesn't have any need to use public transport — he could easily use a private car or even a fucking helicopter if he wanted to — but, Chuuya finds himself taking the same train at the same time again tomorrow. This time, he's already standing in that corner, facing the wall to conceal his hard, throbbing cock, and to advertise himself as vulnerable prey.

[d-z20]

Caught in the Crossfire (NSFW)

Pairing: Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: You're an FBI agent and get partnered with Agent Vidal on a big case. When the mission goes wrong and Rio gets shot, you are forced to stay at a safehouse together.

-OR-

They say orgasms are good for pain relief so you fuck Rio to make the pain go away 🙃

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, mention of gangs, gunfight, hurt (gunshot wound), smut, fluff

Words: 3.1k

A/N: They is me, I am they, I say orgasms are effective pain relief. Oh and this is another requested fic :)

AO3 link | Master List

Rio leans against the desk, tapping a pen against the stack of files she’s just dropped with a flourish. Her eyes pin you with a challenging stare. “Five bucks says you screw up this case before the week’s out.”

You glance up from your laptop, unimpressed. “Bold talk from someone who hasn’t cracked a case this big since Quantico. What’s the matter? Rusty?”

This was the rhythm of your partnership: sharp words, sharper looks, and a constant undercurrent of rivalry. You’d both been top recruits at the academy, though on completely different tracks—Rio had excelled at strategy and undercover work, while you were a natural at analysis and tactical planning. When you’d been paired for this joint case six months ago, it was clear you were opposites in every sense, and it made working together a special kind of hell.

The task force had been chasing a dangerous gang involved in arms trafficking. Their network spanned multiple cities, but all signs pointed to the heart of their operations being a hidden warehouse in the city. The gang was clever—covering their tracks with misdirection and red herrings—which made your job of piecing together clues exhausting. But a major break had come two weeks ago when Rio went undercover, infiltrating the gang as a low-level buyer. She’d managed to secure critical intel about their shipment routes and a few key players, but her cover had been blown when one of the gang members got too suspicious.

You’d both known the risk when she took the job, and while you’d been impressed by her quick thinking, you couldn’t ignore the danger that still lingered. Now, you were both back at square one, tracking their movements, one step closer to the warehouse and the showdown tonight.

“Tonight’s operation better go off without a hitch,” you grumble, glancing back down at the laptop. The tension between the two of you, always present when working these kinds of cases, never seems to go away.

Rio smirks and straightens up, walking closer as she flicks through some of the paperwork right next to your laptop.

“You’re standing too close,” you mutter, trying to ignore the way your heart beats a little faster at the sudden proximity.

Rio doesn’t budge, standing tall with that usual confidence. “You’re the one who can’t stand my brilliance that close to your face, huh?”

You grit your teeth, trying to focus on the case. “You just make everything more difficult.”

She smirks, eyes flicking to your lips as she leans in slightly. “I think you like it that way.”

—

The two of you sit in the cramped surveillance van, tracking the comings and goings of gang members through grainy security footage.

“Don’t get yourself killed tonight,” Rio mutters, strapping on her bulletproof vest. Her tone is teasing, but you catch the flicker of genuine concern behind her words.

“I’m not the one who’s always charging into danger,” you shoot back, pulling on your own vest.

“Someone has to, or we’d be stuck analysing spreadsheets all day,” she says, smirking.

Despite the banter, the tension in the air is palpable. This operation is the culmination of months of work, and failure isn’t an option.

—

The warehouse is eerily quiet when you enter. Your movements are synchronised—Rio leads the way, gun raised, while you keep watch.

“They’re here,” Rio whispers, gesturing toward the far end of the warehouse.

You nod, heart hammering in your chest. The two of you move closer to the group of gang members gathered around crates of weapons. Everything is going according to plan—until it isn’t.

A lookout you hadn’t accounted for shouts a warning. Instantly, all hell breaks loose. Bullets rain down as the gang opens fire.

“Take cover!” Rio shouts, pulling you behind a stack of crates.

You return fire, pulse racing as you try to assess the situation. “We’ve got to fall back!”

“Not yet,” Rio says, jaw tight. She pops up to return fire, but then a sudden cry of pain tears through the air. A bullet strikes her shoulder, and she collapses to the ground.

“Rio!” you shout, stomach dropping. Without thinking, you drag her behind a steel beam, using it for better cover.

“Stay down!” You bark, positioning yourself in front of her to shield her from the continuing onslaught.

“Don’t—” Rio winces, gripping her shoulder. “Don’t be an idiot. I can still—”

“Shut up and focus on not passing out,” you snap, returning fire as the adrenaline courses through your veins. The gang is closing in, and panic gnaws at you. You need to get her out of here.

—

The minutes before the rest of the task force storm the warehouse feel like hours; Rio is bleeding heavily from her wound, and all colour has faded from her face. The remaining gang members are finally subdued in a chaotic flurry of shouting and gunfire.

You don’t move from your position until the scene is secure. When it’s finally clear, you turn to Rio, voice tight. “You okay?”

“I’ve been better,” she mutters, her face pale but her signature smirk still intact. “But hey, you were pretty heroic back there. Almost makes me like you.”

“Save your breath,” you say, though relief is slowly replacing the panic that has gripped you earlier.

The on-site medic patches her up as best as they can; she was lucky the bullet went straight through, but her wound still needs close monitoring. You learn that a high-ranking gang member had slipped away at the start of all the chaos, but not before getting a good look at you and Rio. Since you know their network is likely everywhere, you decide transporting her to a hospital is too risky. You need a safehouse—a remote location where she can recover while you regroup.

—

The cabin is small, tucked away in a far-out forest. It’s equipped with basic supplies, offering the isolation you need to keep a low profile. You enter first, checking the place out. Then, you return to Rio, who is sitting on the edge of the bed, her arm in a sling, bandages covering her shoulder.

You linger by the door, watching her with an uncharacteristic softness you rarely show.

“If you’re here to scold me for getting shot, you can save it,” Rio says, her voice light but tired.

You step inside, setting a bottle of water down on the nightstand. “Actually, I’m here to make sure you don’t bleed out from being a stubborn idiot.”

“Touché,” she says, lips curving into a faint smile.

You hesitate, then take a seat beside her, the usual distance between you feeling smaller now. “You scared me back there,” you admit quietly, glancing down at her bandaged shoulder. “Don’t do that again.”

Her gaze softens as she looks at you. “I wasn’t planning on making it a habit. But you…” Her smirk returns, though it’s gentler this time. “You were incredible.”

Your cheeks heat, but you quickly brush it off with a shrug. “Someone had to keep you alive; the paperwork would’ve been horrendous otherwise.”

You turn towards her, carefully peeling off the bloody bandages on her shoulder. Your fingers brush against her skin as you work, and though Rio winces, she doesn’t utter a word of protest. The silence between you feels heavy but not uncomfortable.

As you apply the fresh bandages, you glance up, catching her watching you with an unreadable expression. Her lips quirk into a faint smirk, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“You’re too quiet,” you say softly, trying to distract her. “That’s not like you.”

“Trying not to ruin the moment,” she teases, though her voice is quieter than usual.

Your hands linger for a moment after you finish, your gaze falling to the wound. “You need to be more careful,” you murmur, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

She tilts her head, her smirk softening into something more sincere. “And miss the chance to see you play nursemaid? No way.”

You let out a quiet laugh, but your hand remains against her shoulder, your thumb grazing the edge of the bandage. Silence stretches between you, comfortable yet charged with the unspoken things neither of you have said before. 

Finally, Rio speaks again, her voice quieter now. “You didn’t have to risk yourself like that.”

You meet her gaze, your heart pounding in your chest. “Of course I did. I couldn’t just leave you.”

Her eyes hold yours, steady and searching, and for the first time, you don’t feel the need to look away. Her lips part, and she leans in, testing the waters with a soft kiss. It’s gentle, hesitant, but when you don’t pull away, she deepens the kiss.

You feel the weight of everything unravelling between you. The kiss is slow at first, exploring, but then it quickly becomes urgent and heated. Hands roam, pushing past the boundaries of what had been comfortable before. You feel her press into you, her warmth seeping into your skin, making you forget everything but the two of you.

When you pull away, breathless, her eyes are dark with something more than desire. “I want something with you,” she whispers, “something real.”

You kiss her again, this time with no hesitation, pulling her closer, as if you could somehow make up for all the time you’ve spent pretending not to like her. You take your time, making sure to be gentle with Rio’s injury, always mindful of her shoulder. As you kiss, your hands are careful, exploring her without rushing. You help her undress slowly, checking in with her each time, making sure she’s comfortable.

She groans softly when your lips trace her jaw, your fingers grazing across the tender spots where her bandages are. You can feel the heat between you building, but you stop to kiss her forehead, your breath shaky as you say, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Rio’s eyes soften, her fingers threading through your hair. “You never could,” she murmurs, pulling you closer.

You take your time, letting the moment stretch, the room filling with soft breaths and the quiet rustle of fabric. Every movement is deliberate, every touch mindful of the vulnerability hanging in the air.

Your hands move to her good shoulder, slipping under the strap of her tank top. The fabric slides away easily, baring more of her to your gaze. She doesn’t flinch, her smirk fading into something softer, more open.

“You’re beautiful,” you murmur, the words slipping out before you can second-guess them.

Rio lets out a soft laugh, the sound shaky but genuine. “Flattery? You should’ve tried that six months ago.”

You grin, leaning in to kiss the edge of her smirk, letting your lips linger on her skin. “Shut up, Rio,” you whisper, your voice tinged with affection.

Her hand finds your waist, tugging you closer with surprising strength for someone who’d been shot hours ago. You go willingly, straddling her carefully as your lips reconnect, the kiss growing deeper. Heat coils in your chest, spreading outward as her touch becomes bolder, her fingers sliding under your shirt.

You break the kiss only long enough to pull your top over your head, tossing it aside before leaning back in. Her lips move to your neck, trailing kisses down to your collarbone, each one sending sparks through you. You gasp softly when her teeth graze your skin, her smirk returning against your neck.

“You like that?” She teases, her voice low and rough.

“Maybe,” you reply, breathless but playful. “What are you gonna do about it?”

Her answer is wordless, her good hand slipping down your back, finding every sensitive spot with ease. You shiver under her touch, your own hands exploring her, mapping the curve of her waist and the muscles of her back.

You’re careful not to put pressure on her injured shoulder, but Rio doesn’t seem to care about her pain. She pulls you closer, her body warm against yours, her breaths coming faster now.

You press your forehead to hers, your hands cupping her face. “Tell me if it’s too much,” you whisper, your voice thick with concern.

She shakes her head, her eyes blazing with determination. “The only thing too much is how long it took us to get here.”

Her words undo you, and you close the distance again, your kisses turning hungrier. You guide her gently back onto the bed, her good arm still wrapped around you as you settle over her. You continue your path down Rio’s body, lips pressing softly against every inch of skin you uncover. Your hands trail after your mouth, fingers tracing the delicate curve of her waist and the softness of her hips. Her body reacts to your touch, each shiver and soft gasp urging you on, drawing you deeper into the moment.

When your lips reach the hollow of her stomach, you pause, your hands resting on either side of her hips. You glance up at her, catching the way her chest rises and falls in anticipation, her hand gripping the sheets beneath her. The sight of her laid bare before you, trusting and vulnerable, sends a wave of warmth coursing through you. You press a kiss to her skin, just below her ribs, before continuing lower.

Your hands move carefully, sliding down her thighs, coaxing them apart with a gentle nudge. She complies without hesitation, her breath catching as you trail soft kisses along the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. You take your time, teasing, your mouth lingering just long enough to leave her trembling, her good hand reaching down to tangle in your hair.

“Please,” she murmurs, her voice breathy and full of need, and it’s all the encouragement you need.

You shift lower, your hands resting lightly on her thighs, holding her steady as your lips finally find her. The first touch is tentative and exploratory, but the way her body responds—back arching, a soft moan slipping from her lips—spurs you on. Your tongue moves slowly at first, drawing circles, learning what makes her gasp and writhe beneath you. You use your fingers to spread her gently, your movements precise and deliberate, ensuring every sensation is heightened.

Her reactions guide you, every sigh and breathless plea telling you exactly what she needs. When you slip a finger inside her, she tenses for a moment before relaxing, her body welcoming your touch. You match the rhythm of your hand to the movements of your tongue, building a steady pace that has her gripping the sheets tightly, her head tipping back as her moans grow louder.

Her body begins to tremble, her breathing ragged as she nears the edge. You don’t falter, your movements becoming more focused, more insistent, until she finally cries out, her body arching sharply as she shatters beneath you. You hold her through it, your hands steady on her thighs, your mouth gentle as you help her ride out the waves of her climax.

When she finally comes down, her body relaxes, her limbs heavy as she lies back against the bed, chest heaving. You crawl back up to her, pressing soft kisses along her stomach, her collarbone, and finally her lips. She kisses you back with a lazy, satisfied fervour, her hand cupping your cheek as if to keep you close.

You rest beside her, your fingers resting gently on her chest. The silence between you feels easy now, filled with something unspoken but understood. Rio tilts her head to meet your eyes; her smirk softened into something sincere.

“Didn’t know you had that in you,” she teases, her voice quiet but laced with affection.

You smirk back, brushing a stray hair from her face. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“Guess I’ll have to stick around to find out.”

Her words linger in the air, heavy with promise, and for once, you don’t feel the need to deflect. You lean in, pressing a final kiss to her forehead as her eyes drift closed, exhaustion finally claiming her.

—

You wake to the faint light of dawn filtering through the curtains. Rio is still beside you, her face softened in sleep, her chest rising and falling steadily. You watch her for a moment, a quiet smile tugging at your lips before you carefully slip out of bed, pulling the blanket up over her.

The cabin’s kitchen is small, almost comically so, but you’re determined to make breakfast. You rummage through the limited supplies, finding eggs and a questionable loaf of bread. Cracking the eggs into a pan, you curse softly when some of the shell slips in. The stove sputters, and the toast burns on one side before you can flip it.

“Do you always declare war on breakfast?” Rio’s voice startles you, and you whip around to see her leaning against the doorframe, her arm still in its sling.

“Hey! You’re supposed to be resting,” you scold, pointing the spatula at her.

She raises an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth twitching into a smirk. “I’d rather take my chances with gunfire than whatever you’re cooking.”

You roll your eyes, turning back to the stove. “I’m making you breakfast, so sit down and let me work my magic.”

Rio pads over to the table, still smirking. “If this kills me, make sure they write ‘death by toast’ on my gravestone.”

“Har, har,” you mutter, but you can’t help the small laugh that escapes you. As you set the slightly overcooked meal in front of her, she looks up at you with an amused glint in her eyes.

“You’re really taking this whole ‘overprotective partner’ thing seriously, huh?” She teases, though her voice softens as she adds, “Not that I’m complaining.”

You sit across from her, leaning your chin on your hand. “Someone has to look out for you. You’re not exactly great at self-preservation.”

Rio smiles, a genuine warmth in her gaze that makes your chest ache. “I don’t mind it. Feels… nice. Safe.” Her fingers brush yours on the table, a small but deliberate gesture. “Guess I’m sticking around for more than just the breakfast disasters.”

Your laugh is soft, but your voice carries a tenderness you rarely let slip. “I’ll try not to burn the toast next time.”

“Don’t change too much,” Rio says, her smirk returning as she takes a bite of the slightly charred toast. “I kind of like you the way you are.”

Her words settle between you, light and teasing but laced with a sincerity that fills the room with warmth. For the first time, the future doesn’t feel like something to fear—it feels like something you might actually look forward to.

[solbaby7]

Drifting Away

pairing: azriel x reader

warnings: angst (sorry but it just hurts so good) swearing, mentions of poor mental health, romantic undertones

summary: You've been drowning for a long time and finally someone notices

[ part 2 ]

--

Azriel could hear you crying at night.

He wasn't sure when it started; how long it had been going on before the slinking shadows darted about the house, enjoying their free reign when he hears a noise. One so soft he nearly brushed it off as a breeze but he hears it again. A little louder, more throaty and then it clicks; the undeniable sound of despair being swiftly hidden away by the dark hours of the early morning when others were asleep and none the wiser.

There's an urge to check on you, one so overwhelming he taps his fingers against the smooth mahogany desk filled to the brim with mission reports and carefully notated maps with neat notes tucked in the corner. His ears strain for the sound again, mentally agreeing that if he heard it once more, he'd have no other choice but to check it out.

But nothing sounds.

Not for one minute, or two or twenty but he doesn't forget about it.

Especially not when he sees you the following morning, wearing a bright smile and laughing louder than anyone else in the room. He's subtle in the way he observed you, notating your mannerisms and the effortless charm that dripped from your tongue.

The picture of a well adjusted woman. One who seemed happy and fulfilled until the final line was spoken and the one-woman cast bowed for her performance, basking in the applause from a crowd well entertained.

You were attentive; borderline motherly in the way you took care of everyone around you--easily handing off the food from your plate without even batting an eye and Azriel's brow quirks in attention when he hears you decline more when offered; insisting that you're full, showing off a clean plate as you casually wipe your mouth against dark linen cloth.

However, he's certain you didn't take even a single bite.

It piques his interest; the warning signs of a silent struggle and he finds himself unable to stop from noting other things about you.

Like, the way you seemed to be a reliable sounding board. Mor or Feyre or Cassian would come to you for advice, spilling their burdens on your shoulders and you always welcomed them with open arms. You would nod quietly, never once interrupting and always providing such carefully curated advice. The kind you learned through life experience; pain and sorrow and true mind numbing emptiness that came from growing up with bright embers of hope; only to be pushed into the world and realize how far people will go to snuff those embers out.

And never once did they ask if you needed comfort in return.

“For a spymaster, I would have assumed you’d be better at being subtle when you stare.” It’s startling how silent you’d been, shifting from one end of the room to the next without being detected by his hearing or his shadows—shadows he now notices are circling around your feet, tickling at your bare toes against the wine red rug. “What were you looking at anyway?”

Hazel eyes are calculating when they take you in, brows furrowing when you smile down at him, humming to yourself as you twiddle your toes through the ebbing darkness that grows around your legs, teasing at the hem of your dress with a little tug. “You.”

Rhysand sits proudly in a chair big enough to be a throne, large decorative pillows perched under his arms and a grinning Feyre eased into his lap, head curling into his neck with content. Even Nesta and Cass were sitting closer than usual on the couch, feet bumping at the others as she pretended to be absorbed in some book but there was no way she was actually focusing with Cassian’s arm curled around the back of her shoulders. Mor chats idly with Armen, glittering jewelry shoved on two slim fingers and you can’t help but linger on all the incredibly powerful beings around you.

Such purpose all around and somehow you still couldn’t find your own.

“Well, it’s not everyday I get the privilege of your attention.” You twirl once, the material of your dress skimming the tips of his fingers. “Do tell—how do I look?”

Azriel doesn’t correct how that couldn’t be further from the truth. There’s a pause, his voice more soft when he speaks so it gets drowned out in the chatter behind you. “You look lonely.”

The reply makes you stop your toying with the shadows, gentle smile faltering when you squint down at him, throughly caught off guard. “What?” Azriel watches the second you seem to recompose yourself, smile sliding back in place but he can see the way you look at him, regarding him cautiously; wondering where he was getting at. “That’s ridiculous. I live in a home filled with my closest friends and family.”

You anticipate the nod, the smile and then the conversation will continue like nothing had ever happened; the answer appeasing the questioner and you’d continue about your day as you did all the others. But Azriel doesn’t change the subject, doesn’t accept the answer provided. Instead, a golden hand raises, tea still steaming over the rim. “Then, why do you seem so sad?”

“Where are you getting this from?”

“Because I heard something last night,” He watches the way you freeze, lids squinting a fraction and your hands actually tremble at your side.

“Hm," It’s alarming how good you are at taking control of the conversation; how your body adapts to the emotion that your brain predicts Azriel wants you to convey—happiness. His head slowly tilts to the side when you tip your head back and laugh, one that was so convincing even he nearly fell for it; but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Always the spy, when do you ever take a day off?"

Az can't seem to tear his eyes off of you, not when Cassian chimes in with an inebriated laugh, a heavy hand clapping down on his brothers shoulder and you're grateful for the distraction. The ability to slink into easier conversation, to craft a carefully woven picture of serenity but the golden gaze boring into the back of your head is distracting; makes your hands shake ever so slightly over the width of your glass, the condensation dripping cool trails down the length of your arm.

He doesn't get the chance to speak to you for the rest of the night; either being whisked away by his brothers or somehow getting lead away by Elain and Fey when asking for help bringing out a few more things from the kitchen. Shadows trudge by, being his eyes and ears when one returns with the same conclusion; gone, gone, gone.

For the rest of the night, Azriel remained on edge, unable to relax into the drink in his hand and his foot is practically bouncing a hole in the hardwood when the others finally start filtering out for the night; stumbling into one another on their way to their rooms. Ears strain to hear each door close and he's light on his feet when he bristles down the hall, sharply turning to the right and once he's at the end of the hall he comes to an abrupt stop.

Light still pours out from the crack beneath your door and nerves build in his stomach when he sees the shadow of your feet walking past; there was no reasonable explanation to be here—on this floor—and that becomes abhorrantly apparent when the door opens and your raising a brow at him. "Listening in on ladies in their bedchambers is not very gentlemanly of you."

"I wasn't. Well, I was but it wasn't like that." Azriel's walking past you, entering your room without even asking and he seems genuinely startled by the way it looks. Not that it was dirty or unkempt but it was painstakingly bare. Years of living there and still there were no pictures on the wall, no trinkets or feminine flare; just a bed with thick blankets and a shelf filled to the brim with books. A desk with a single sketchbook and a little bag of pencils and charcoals.

"What?"

He's still taking it in; it had to have been nearly eighty years and still it looked almost identical as it had when Rhys had first offered it to you as your own. "It's just not what I expected, that's all."

Your arms are crossed over your chest, hair braided tightly and it swayed as you walked, still dripping wet from a shower. It was alarmingly warm but you still wore a long sleeved shirt and fluffy socks that went up to your knees. "What did you expect?"

Az shrugs, turning to face you when he hears the way you slowly close the door. "You've been here a while. I suppose I had just expected to see more of you in here."

"Another one of your assessments?" There's no hiding the bite in your tone, the defensive stance you take when he begins wandering around; eyes eating up what little things you did have. Fingers graze over the spines of books, picking up one with tons of little dog-eared pages. "Please do tell what my lack of interest in interior decor says about me."

Book pages flutter, stopping when he catches one page more crinkled than most and his brows furrow when realizing the wrinkly circular dots were tears—your tears. "I wasn't evaluating you but since you asked," Azriel tucks the book under his arm and your lips part with a huff but he doesn't acknowledge the grumbles you give about taking things without asking. He's too busy scanning the contents of your desk; a cup of pens, little bottles of paints and a few brushes to accompany them. The thin drawer attached is half-filled with sketchbooks that were tightly bound an sealed with wax; a clear sign to stay the fuck out. "It shows that even after claiming to be perfectly content in a house filled with your so called "closest friends and family", you still refuse to get settled. That could stem from a plethora of things; variables I've accounted for but a definite conclusion is still pending at this time."

"Asshole," You all but hiss, smacking his hands away from sifting through the pages of the sketches and scribbles scrawled beside them— angsty little depictions of your thoughts when things got too overwhelming; when all you craved was a hot bath, one of Rhys' expensive bottles and an empty house so you could dance the line on how long you could hold your breath underwater.

"You asked." Ever the observer, noting the key you pull from under the neckline of your shirt, bending at the knee to unlock the side cabinet and open it just enough to shove the sketchbook inside. It's locked up tight and the intrigue only grows. "You also didn't say I was wrong."

"Fine," You concede, arms behind your back and braced against the desk, a body barrier between him and the secrets you weren't ready to confess. "You were wrong."

Azriel only smiles and your breath actually catches by how genuinely handsome he is. For once, he's not in his fighting leathers but somehow, the laid-back fashion of his dark sweatpants and t-shirt had your knees even more shaky. "Okay, then tell me something about you—something real."

The request startles you, brows screwing up and nose crinkling. "Why?"

A hand waves around him, shadows sliding over barren walls as if to aid in making Az's point. "Because, I should be able to get everything I need to know from being in what should be the most intimate place in the world for you but all I can get is that you like expensive sheets and quality curtains."

"I enjoy good sleep." It was the only two things that mattered when the sadness really set in. When minutes blurred into hours and in a blink of an eye you'd somehow skipped all three meals and everyone was shuffling away to their rooms for the night. "And I'll have you know the pens and colored pencils alone are more expensive than the duvet and curtains combined."

Azriel hums, fingers ghosting over the tin specifically made to hold them in place, perfectly color coded and all sharped to a point. "You draw? How don't I know that?"

"Because it doesn't save lives." It's meant as a joke, it even sounds like one but for some reason the shadowsinger can't seem to share the laugh. You refuse to meet his eye, creating some distance and tucking the key swiftly back under the fabric of your shirt, hands moving to fiddle with the ends of your sleeves. "I'm not all that good anyway."

"Good enough to spend so much money on supplies."

You let out an annoyed sigh and it doesn't affect him one bit; in fact, he finds himself enjoying any other emotion besides the faux smile he'd seen permanently plastered across your features. Your room smells like something Azriel can't place and he finds himself moving again, taking in more and more, trying to find the source of the sweet scent. "Is there a reason that you're here? You know, in my room instead of your own on the floor above us." You begin to trail behind him, following his line of sight and you too begin looking for whatever he was, rummaging through your closet and sniffing at your perfumes. "What are you doing?"

"I can smell something," It comes out distracted, body working without rationality when he ducks into your bathroom, sifting around shampoos and conditioners, soaps shaped like flowers and ivy but none of it is right. Not until he moves to the little cart by your clawfoot tub, fingers ruffling about vials and jars until he finds something that has your spine straightening. “What is this?”

There’s a pause while your will your voice to relax. “Infused rum.”

“Infused with?”

A scoff, bare toes on glossy floors when you snatch the bottle from him. “I don’t know, I don’t pay extra to get a history lesson. I just like how it makes me feel.”

Azriel raises a brow, eyes scanning the rest of the cart before sparing a glance at the empty tub. “In the bath?”

“Everyone has their own version of relaxation.” The bottle clinks back into place on the cart, tucked inconspicuously next to the other brightly colored vials and jars; perfectly hidden to anyone not equipped to pay attention to such things. “Do you usually question Mor or Elain of their drinking habits?”

It’s meant to push him away. To cut deep and throw him off your trail because Azriel was getting too close—too personal. “I would if they came to dinners faking smiles.” One step ahead forces you to take one step back, eyes squinting like a wounded animal bracing for one hell of a fight if it meant getting away. “I would if I saw them fading into nothing after spending their nights sobbing themselves to sleep.”

“Now you’re just speculating.”

“Am I?” Azriel pushes, evading your space and ignoring your attempts to create distance. It has to be some sort of manipulation tactic; distracting you with his intense presence in order to scramble your brain so that by time you realize he’s backed you into a corner—it’s too late. “Then tell me I’m wrong.” His left hand raises, his wrist enclosed in shadows as his fingers curl around your neck. Your pulse hums against his skin, heartrate spiking at the intimate touch and all words are robbed from your vocabulary.

“Azriel—“

The low rasp of his voice cuts you off, gentle grip never faltering from your neck. A shiver runs down your spine, the callouses on his thumb a welcomed roughness when sweeping at the curve of your chin. “It’s okay to be sad,” His scent is overwhelming, affecting your body similarly to a few glasses of fae wine and it takes effort for your knees not to tremble. “Just don’t let it consume you.”

For a second you think he’ll kiss you with how intensely he stares at your mouth, pulse still jumping against his fingertips.

The distance never fully closes and the phantom reminder of his touch remains branded on your skin as he slowly exits your room. And for the first time in years, instead of sniffling wrinkles into novels overflowing with friendship and love or drowning your sorrows in curated liquors —you sit at your desk and draw the sharp lines of Azriel’s jaw and that intense darkness shadowing golden irises and somewhere along the lines, you find a sliver of hope.

[nyrasvoid]

A Knight’s Prize pt.3

Gwayne Hightower x Fem!Reader

Summary: the princess Velaryon marries Gwayne Hightower and their wedding night is filled with passion and lust.

Warnings: smut, it’s all really fluffy but there is some teasing, also a little bit of teasing in public, morning sex, riding, and idk if there’s anything else 🤸🏽‍♂️

A/N: just two horny mfs on their wedding day 🎀🧸 btw I had so much trouble looking up how weddings were in westeros under the faith of the seven cs some ppl said they exchanged rings and others that they didn’t, so I just went with the cloak exchange cs it’s what we see in GOT

- Word count: ≈1.9k words

Part 1 Part 2

The tension in the Red Keep was noticeable.

The moment you stepped into your mother's chambers, you could feel the weight of their gazes on you.

"Mother, Uncle," you greeted them, knowing that this conversation was inevitable.

Rhaenyra stepped forward, her expression softening as she reached out to touch your arm. "My daughter," she began, her voice filled with worry, "we need to talk about Ser Gwayne."

"I know what you're going to say," you replied quietly, "but my mind is made up."

Daemon scoffed from his place by the window, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Made up? You've barely known him a fortnight, and you're ready to throw yourself to the Hightowers?"

Rhaenyra shot him a warning glance before turning her attention back to you. "It's not just about Ser Gwayne" she said gently. "It's about his family, their ambitions. Otto Hightower has never hidden his desire to see his blood on the throne, and now he's using you to accomplish his plans."

You stiffened at her words, "I overheard them, Mother. I know what they're planning. But I also know that Ser Gwayne is not like them. He's different."

Daemon's laughter was filled with sarcasm. "Different? They're all the same, playing their little games for power. And you-" he paused, stepping closer to you, "— you're the prize they're all reaching for. Do you want to be a pawn in their game, niece?"

"No, Uncle. But I refuse to be a pawn in anyone's game; not theirs, not even yours."

Rhaenyra sighed, her hand dropping from your arm. "We only want what's best for you," she said softly. "You're a dragon, my daughter. You deserve to be with someone who sees you as my than just a tool for power." she said softly

"And he does," you insisted, meeting her gaze. "Ser Gwayne is sincere. He will be a good husband, and I will make this marriage my own. I won't let them control me. We both want this to be more than a political arrangement.”

Daemon shook his head "You're making a mistake," he warned. "But it's your life to ruin."

"If this is truly what you want..." he continued.

"It is," you replied firmly.

Your mother sighed deeply, her shoulders sagging in defeat. "Then we won't stand in your way," she said quietly. "But know this, my daughter if you ever need us, we will be here. Always."

You nodded, “I know you are, you will still be my family, my blood.”

The evening of your wedding was a storm of emotions. The grand hall was filled with the lords and ladies of the realm.

At the entrance of the sept, you stood in your wedding gown, the gown itself was a delicate shade of white, adorned with gold embroidery.

Over this, you wore a blue cloak, the color of House Velaryon, a symbol of your heritage and the life you were leaving behind.

Since your father, Laenor, couldn’t walk you down the aisle, your uncle did it.

Daemon Targaryen, stood beside you, his gaze steady, filled with pride as he lead you towards the altar.

The guests rise to their feet as you approach. At the end of the aisle, Ser Gwayne awaits, his eyes locked on you. His dark green cloak, the colors of House Hightower, rests over his shoulders, symbolizing the new life you will be joining.

As you reach the altar, the septon, steps forward. The ceremony begins with a prayer, invoking the blessings of the Seven.

“Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger,” the septon says, calling upon the Seven to witness this union. “We gather in your sight to bless this marriage, that it may be strong and enduring.”

You and Gwayne face each other, the moment arrived for you to recite your vows.

Gwayne begins, “I am hers and she is mine. From this day, until the end of my days.”

At the same time, you respond, “I am his and he is mine. From this day, until the end of my days.”

The septon then instructs “You may now kiss the bride”.

“With this kiss, I pledge my love,” Gwayne leans in, his gaze never leaving yours. His lips meet yours in a tender kiss.

The guests rise as you both turn to face them, their applause ringing through the sept.

When the ceremony was over, the feast began. The hall was filled with the sound of laughter and music.

Gwayne leaned in, his voice low. "You are radiant tonight, Princess," he murmured, his hand resting on yours.

He looks at you, his voice soft as he asks, “Would you honor me with a dance, my lovely wife?”

This time, you don’t hesitate. “Of course I will, my dear lord husband,” you reply, allowing him to lead you to the dance floor.

But just as you begin to relax, flowing to the rythm of the music, you hear a familiar voice.

“Such a lovely couple,” says Lord Otto Hightower. “It warms my heart to see you both so happy.”

You tense as you hold Gwayne tighter, as if he would run away if you didn’t.

“Thank you, Father,” he replies, his voice calm. “We are indeed fortunate to have found each other.”

Lord Otto smiles, “Indeed,” he says, his gaze lingering on you. “I trust that you will both make our house proud.”

After your dance with Gwayne, you return to your seat beside your husband. The hall is alive with the sounds of joy, but your attention is solely on the man next to you.

You lean closer, your voice a soft murmur. “You danced so well tonight, Gwayne. I almost forgot why I was avoiding you the other day.”

“Ah, so you admit to avoiding me? And here I thought you were just eager to dance with Ser Loras.” Gwayne said with a false indignation.

You smirk, your hand brushing against his thigh under the table. “Perhaps I was just trying to make you jealous.”

His gaze drops to where your hand lingers. “Is that so? And did it work?”

You lean in, your lips brushing against his ear as you whisper teasingly, “I do not know. You tell me,” he looked back at you and smirked.

You continued “but I think you have more to offer than just jealousy. And now I can’t help but wonder what other talents you might be hiding.”

“Is that so? Perhaps you’d like to explore those talents further?” Gwayne whispered in your ear teasingly.

You leaned in, “Mayhaps I do.”

His eyes filled with desire at your words, and he brought your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. "Shall we retire, my lady wife?" he asked.

You nodded, as he stood, offering you his hand.

Together, you left the grand hall, the eyes of the court following your every move as you made your way to your chambers

The moment the door to your chambers closed behind you, the atmosphere changed.

The formalities of the court were left outside, replaced by a fierce carnal desire for each other.

Gwayne turned to you, his eyes burning with a desire that mirrored your own.

"Princess," he began, "you've bewitched me. I've thought of nothing but this moment since I first laid eyes on you."

Your heart raced at his words, "And I you, Gwayne," you whispered, stepping closer to him. "I've wanted you from the very start."

He reached out, his hand brushing against your cheek. "You are the most beautiful woman l've ever seen," he breathed, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. "And now you're mine."

You closed the distance between you, your lips crashing together in a kiss that was both desperate and sweet. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you close as his boner pressed against your crotch.

"Say it again," you murmured against his lips, your fingers tangling in his hair. "Tell me l'm yours.” You started kissing him down his jaw all the way to his neck.

"You're mine," he murmured, his voice filled with possessiveness. "All mine."

He obliged, pulling away just long enough to strip off his clothes, revealing his lean body.

You reached out, your hands trembling as they helped Gwayne take off his clothes. "Gods, Gwayne," you whispered, "You're magnificent."

His hands moved to your gown, untying the laces with a "Let me see you," he begged, his voice filled with desire. "I need to see you."

You stepped back, letting the gown fall to the floor, leaving you bare before him. The look in his eyes was one of pure adoration, as if he were looking at a goddess.

"Perfection," he breathed, stepping closer and pulling you against him. "You're perfect."

You gasped as his hands roamed over your bare chest, exploring every inch of your skin.

"Gwayne," you moaned, your head falling back as he kissed his way down your neck. "I need you, now."

He didn't hesitate, lifting you into his arms and carrying you to the bed, laying you down gently as if you were made of glass. "I've waited so long for this," he whispered. "But now that I have you, I want to savor every moment."

You reached out, your fingers wrapping around his wrist as you pulled his hand down between your legs. "Please," you begged, "Don't make me wait any longer."

He positioned himself over you, his body pressing against yours, as he rubbed your clit. “I'll give you everything," he promised. "Everything you want, everything you need.”

When he finally entered you, it was like everything else around you disappeared, leaving only the two of you in the heat of the moment.

The feeling of him inside you, filling you completely, was overwhelming, and you cried out his name, your nails digging into his back as you clung to him.

"Gods," he groaned, as he began to move, his thrusts deep and powerful. "You feel like heaven, my love."

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into you as he sped his thrusts.

"Gwayne," you moaned, your voice filled with need. "You're everything. You're all I've ever wanted.”

His pace quickened at your words, his breath against your ear as he whispered, "And you're mine. My love, my life, my everything."

Every touch, every kiss, was a promise, a declaration of love that needed no words.

"Tell me you're mine," his voice filled with desperation.

"I'm yours," you moaned, your body arching against his as you reached your climax. "Always yours."

When you finally came, it was like an explosion, it felt way better than when you did it yourself. He followed soon after, his seed filling you.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, the only sound in the room were your gasps for air. He collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms and holding you close as if he never wanted to let you go.

“You’re mine” he whispered one last time.

“And you’re mine” you replied, as you curled up on his chest.

In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the politics of the realm, not the disapproval of your family, not the future that awaited you.

All that mattered was the man beside you.

The first first ray of light came through your chamber’s window. You turned beneath the silky sheets, the warmth of Gwayne’s body pressing against you, his arm resting over your waist.

The memories of the night before remained in your mind. How he had made you his, worshipped you, as if you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

You turned slightly, feeling his jaw against your cheek, as he pressed a kiss to your neck.

“Good morning, my lady.” he said against the crook of your neck, while his eyes were still closed.

A smile played on your lips as you turned around to face him. “Good morning, husband” you replied, your voice teasing.

Gwayne’s eyes, bright with mischief, roamed over your face before settling on your lips. “I’m not sure if I told you enough last night how beautiful you are,” he murmured, his fingers tracing the line of your lips.

“You told me plenty,” you said, though your heart skipped a beat as his hand slipped lower, brushing over of your hip.

“Not enough,” he insisted, “I think I need to remind you.”

Before you could respond, Gwayne rolled you onto your back, hanging over you. His lips found yours in a kiss that started slow, deepening as you arched into him.

“I think you’re just looking for an excuse to delay our departure,” you teased between kisses.

“Can you blame me?” he asked, “Leaving this bed is the last thing I want to do right now.”

Without breaking the kiss, you pushed against his chest, gesturing him to lie back. His eyes widened in surprise, but a smirk appeard on his lips. “Taking control, are we?” he murmured.

“Someone has to,” you replied, positioning yourself on top of his hips. The feeling of him, hard and ready beneath you, made you wet. You took a moment to savor the sight of him, laid out beneath you, before leaning down to kiss him as he made his way inside you.

Gwayne groaned into your mouth, his hands gripping your hips tightly as you began to move, slow at first.

His eyes locked onto yours. “You’re incredible,” he breathed. “Gods, you’re perfect.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the praise, your movements quickening. Every touch, every word from him only elevated your desire, pushing you closer and closer to your climax. You rode him like your life depended on it, your bodies moving in perfect sync, the room filled with your moans and gasps.

“Gwayne,” you gasped, as you felt yourself close to your climax.

He captured your lips in a desperate, hungry kiss. “Come for me,” he murmured against your mouth. “Let me feel you.”

His words pushed you over the edge, your body collapsing on top is his. Gwayne didn’t last long before he joined you in your climax.

For a long moment, you stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s arms, eventually, you rolled off him, collapsing onto the bed right next to him.

“I could get used to waking up like this,” he said, with a soft smile.

You smiled back, reaching out to cup his cheek. “So could I,” you replied softly.

Gwayne seemed to sense your change in mood, his brow furrowing. “What’s wrong?”

You sighed, “I don’t want to leave. Or rather, I don’t want to say goodbye to my family.”

He nodded “It’s never easy, but you know they’ll be alright. And we’ll return soon enough.”

“I know,” you whispered, though the thought of leaving your mother and brothers behind still hurt you. “It’s just…we’ve always been together. And now…”

Gwayne leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “You’re not losing them,” he murmured. “You’re just starting a new life. And I promise you, we’ll come back as often as we can.”

You nodded, “You’re right,” you said, forcing a small smile. “I’ll just miss them.”

“And they’ll miss you,” Gwayne replied, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “But they’re proud of you, and they know you’re where you need to be.”

With a sigh, you pushed yourself up, slipping out of bed and reaching for the clothes that had been laid out for you. Gwayne watched you for a moment before following, the two of you dressing in silence.

As you tied the laces on your gown, you glanced over at him. “Ready?” he asked, extending a hand to you.

You took his hand, squeezing it gently. “As I’ll ever be.”

Together, you left the chamber, to say your goodbyes. You and Gwayne make your way to the courtyard. You embrace your mother and brothers, your voice trembling as you promise to write often and visit as much as you can.

Gwayne takes your hand gently, guiding you towards the carriage. With one last look back, you wave towards your family and you set off for Oldtown, hoping to live a good life filled with love.

PS: Im pretty sure this will be the last part, maybeeeee I will write another one with a time jump where they have children or something with the dance and choosing sides but idk.

[aventurineswife]

What could possibly trigger their jealousy? how bad can it get? And how will they confront the reader about it? Could be angst, fluff, or suggestive. Up to what you see fit! (march 7th, Kafka, Veritas, Kaveh, Ruan mei, Aventurine.)

“I'm jealous of the way you're happy without me”

Tags: March x Reader, Kafka x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Kaveh x Reader, Ruan Mei x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Jealousy, Emotional Tension, Vulnerability, Romantic Tension, Conflict, Possessiveness, Emotional Struggles.

Warnings: Themes of Jealousy, Possessiveness, Emotional Conflict, Tension In Relationships, Implied Possessive Behavior In Romantic Dynamics, Insecurity.

A/N: My stupid ahh didn't register the req properly into my brain and I ended up writing fics for them 🧍‍♀️... Enjoy!

March was normally the picture of cheerful optimism, but today, something was... off. She had been unusually quiet, fiddling with her camera instead of chatting your ear off about her latest snapshots. You noticed it started when you and Stelle had been laughing together earlier—laughter that felt innocent to you, but apparently not to her.

Later, as you entered the train lounge, you found March sitting cross-legged on the couch, pouting slightly, her camera resting on her lap. Her eyes flicked up to meet yours, a storm of emotions hidden beneath her usual brightness.

“Hey,” she said, forcing a smile. “Had fun with Stelle today?”

You blinked, surprised. “Yeah, she told this ridiculous story—”

“I heard,” she interrupted, her voice tight. “You were laughing so much... Guess it must’ve been really funny.” Her attempt at casualness crumbled under the weight of her emotions.

“March, what’s wrong?”

She sighed dramatically, crossing her arms. “What’s wrong? Nothing! Except, I don’t know, maybe it feels like you’re forgetting about me. I mean, I’m always the one dragging you into adventures, taking cool pictures with you, but now you’re all buddy-buddy with Stelle.” Her voice cracked slightly at the end, betraying how deeply it bothered her.

You knelt in front of her, taking her hands in yours. “March, no one could replace you. I love hanging out with you—your energy, your humor, everything. Stelle’s fun, sure, but she’s not you.”

March’s pout softened, her cheeks flushing. “You really mean that?”

“Of course I do. You’re one of a kind, March. My one and only quirky photographer.”

She chuckled, her mood visibly lifting. “Okay, okay, I guess I got a little... silly there. But don’t forget—next time you’re laughing like that, it better be at one of my jokes.”

It wasn’t easy to rile up Kafka. She was the epitome of cool confidence, always in control. But when she saw you chatting with someone else—a certain Stellaron Hunter who was being just a little too friendly—her usual smirk faltered.

She didn’t confront you right away. Instead, she waited until later, when you were alone in her quarters. Sitting with her legs crossed, her eyes fixed on you with an unsettling intensity, she finally spoke.

“You’ve been quite popular today,” she remarked, her tone light but laced with something darker.

You tilted your head, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, come on,” she said, her voice dripping with feigned innocence. “That little tête-à-tête you had earlier? I could practically see the sparks flying.”

Realization dawned. “Kafka, are you... jealous?”

Her smirk returned, though it was sharper this time. “Jealous? Me? Hardly. I just don’t like sharing what’s mine.” She leaned closer, her fingers brushing against your jaw, forcing you to meet her gaze. “You wouldn’t make me feel ignored, would you, darling?”

You swallowed, your heart racing. “Of course not. You’re... kind of impossible to ignore.”

Her smirk softened into something almost tender. “Good answer. But just to make sure you don’t forget...” She leaned in, her lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was both possessive and utterly intoxicating. When she pulled away, her voice was a low murmur. “You belong to me. Don’t forget that.”

For someone as composed and logical as Dr. Ratio, jealousy was an uncharted territory. He prided himself on being above such emotions—until he saw you, laughing and leaning in close with another scholar during one of his lectures.

He didn’t say anything at first, though his eyes burned with an intensity that even his alabaster mask couldn’t hide. It wasn’t until the lecture ended and the others had dispersed that he finally confronted you.

“I couldn’t help but notice your... enthusiasm during today’s discussion,” he said, his tone carefully neutral, though the sharpness in his gaze betrayed him.

You frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Ratio sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Let me put it plainly. I didn’t appreciate how... comfortable you seemed with that imbecile. Their theories are pedestrian at best, yet you treated them as though they were a second Einstein.”

“Ratio, are you jealous?” you asked, more amused than anything.

His eyes narrowed. “Jealous? That’s an absurd accusation. I simply don’t understand why you’d waste your time entertaining someone so beneath you.”

You stepped closer, resting a hand on his arm. “Ratio, you’re overthinking this. I admire you—for your brilliance, your passion, everything. No one else comes close.”

His shoulders relaxed slightly, though he still looked conflicted. “I... appreciate that. But I don’t like feeling—” He cut himself off, his frustration evident.

“Vulnerable?” you supplied gently.

He nodded, his pride clearly wrestling with the admission. “Yes. But if you say I have nothing to worry about, then I’ll trust you. Just... don’t make a habit of testing my patience.”

You smiled, standing on your tiptoes to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “Never. You’re the only genius I have eyes for.”

Kaveh sat at his drafting table, his fingers absently tracing the intricate blueprints for his latest project, but his mind was miles away. It wasn’t the design that occupied his thoughts—it was the image of you, laughing and talking with Alhaitham in the corner of the room. He tried to brush it off as nothing—after all, they were old friends, right? But every laugh you shared, every soft smile you gave him, struck Kaveh’s heart with a sense of sharp, unfamiliar discomfort.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want you to have friends. He knew the importance of connections. But Alhaitham... the way you looked at him, so comfortable and at ease, made Kaveh's stomach twist. He couldn’t ignore the jealousy gnawing at him—how could he, when it felt like his chest was being crushed under the weight of it?

He had always been the idealist, believing in beauty and goodness. But in that moment, watching the two of you exchange something unspoken, something that seemed to bring you both closer, he felt a sting of doubt.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Alhaitham’s voice interrupted Kaveh’s spiraling thoughts. His tone was unreadable, his expression indifferent as usual.

Kaveh forced a smile, though it felt like the most strained thing he had done in days. “Of course. Just working.”

But Alhaitham wasn’t fooled. With a subtle glance at you, he excused himself, leaving Kaveh alone in the room.

Kaveh’s hands tightened into fists. He couldn't push the emotions away any longer. He could only imagine what it might feel like if you turned to him the way you did to Alhaitham. The ache inside his chest deepened.

You’d never seen him so distant. His demeanor had changed. The open warmth that usually defined him had turned to quiet frustration, something unspoken hanging between you.

Finally, after hours of silence, you approached him. "Kaveh," you began softly, "I don't understand. Why have you been avoiding me today?"

He turned to face you, his eyes sharper than usual, an edge of vulnerability flickering within them. “I—” He swallowed. “You were with him. With Alhaitham.”

You blinked, confusion flashing across your face. “What do you mean? He’s my friend.”

Kaveh’s voice wavered despite himself. “I know. But... it’s more than that, isn’t it?” He couldn't stop the words from tumbling out. “I can’t help but wonder if... if you need him more than you need me.” His gaze fell, suddenly feeling the weight of his own words.

You didn’t need to ask how deep it went. Kaveh’s jealousy wasn’t the playful, harmless kind—it was raw and vulnerable, revealing his fears of being discarded, of his care and efforts never being enough.

You moved to his side and gently placed a hand on his arm. "Kaveh, I—" You hesitated, before continuing, "You’re my light, my inspiration, the one who makes my heart race with everything you do. But that doesn’t mean I don’t cherish my friends. You’re not in competition."

For a moment, Kaveh felt a spark of relief—just a flicker, before his insecurities took hold again. “Then why does it feel like I’m losing you?”

With a soft sigh, you cupped his face in your hands. "You haven’t lost me, Kaveh. Not ever."

Kaveh closed his eyes, taking a slow, steadying breath. "I don’t know what I would do without you," he whispered, his vulnerability spilling out as the jealousy melted into something more profound—an admission of how deeply he needed you, how terrified he was of losing what mattered most.

The lab was unusually quiet. The hum of machinery and the soft clicking of data streams filled the room, but something was off. Ruan Mei didn’t need to look up to know what was happening. She could hear it in your voice—the light, teasing tone you had when speaking to Herta, one of her colleagues from the Genius Society.

It wasn’t that Ruan Mei disliked Herta. Far from it. But seeing you so engaged, so at ease with her, stirred something unfamiliar in her. Herta’s loud laugh, her gregarious energy, was so different from Ruan Mei’s cool, methodical presence. She knew she couldn’t compete with that. Yet, why did it bother her so much?

A brief flash of jealousy spread through her, like a cold chill in her chest. She couldn’t explain it—she’d never cared about this before. But somehow, seeing you make Herta laugh, seeing how easily you two interacted, made her feel like an outsider in her own life.

She wasn’t one to show emotions easily, but this... this was something she had never expected. The creeping feeling that perhaps you could find someone more engaging, more dynamic, than the stoic, emotionally distant Ruan Mei. It was suffocating.

She turned her attention back to the data, forcing herself to focus, but her mind kept drifting back to you. And to Herta.

When you finally approached her later that day, her expression remained unreadable, a mask of detachment she had perfected over the years. You didn’t seem to notice the subtle shift in her demeanor.

“Ruan Mei,” you said, softly. “Can we talk?”

Her heart skipped, but she kept her voice neutral. “What is it?”

You hesitated, a knowing look in your eyes. “I noticed... you seemed a little off today. Is everything okay?”

Ruan Mei clenched her jaw. She didn’t want to admit to her jealousy—not to you, not to anyone. She had always been so in control, so precise in her actions. But you were different. You made her feel like she had to confront the emotions she had buried for so long.

“Everything is fine,” she replied, her voice sharp but controlled. “I’ve been busy.”

You took a step closer, your eyes searching hers for the truth. “Ruan Mei,” you said gently, “I can tell when something’s wrong. You don’t have to hide it.”

She stiffened. “I’m not hiding anything,” she snapped before quickly composing herself. “It’s nothing.”

But the slight tremor in her hand betrayed her. She could feel her walls crumbling. With a deep sigh, Ruan Mei looked away, the weight of her feelings too much to bear. “I don’t like seeing you with her,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

You blinked, confused at first. “With Herta?” you asked.

Ruan Mei nodded stiffly. “She... she’s too different from me. I don’t understand why you would prefer someone so... loud.”

You stepped closer, lifting her chin gently, forcing her to meet your eyes. “I like you for who you are, Ruan Mei. I don’t need someone loud or flashy. I need someone who’s thoughtful and intelligent. Someone who makes me think. And that’s you.”

Ruan Mei felt her breath catch, her heart racing in a way it hadn’t in years. Maybe, just maybe, there was something to this connection after all.

Aventurine sat at his usual spot in the corner of the room, watching you from across the room. His fingers were wrapped around a glass of wine, swirling it absently, though his attention was entirely on you. You were talking to someone else—an acquaintance, someone new—and his stomach twisted with a sensation he hadn’t expected.

He couldn’t deny the tightening in his chest. He had known it was irrational. He had known it wasn’t the time to feel possessive, but watching the way you laughed at the other person’s jokes, the way you leaned in slightly, even the way your eyes sparkled when they spoke to you—it stirred something deep inside him. Something dangerous. Something he had long buried under layers of charm and strategy.

It was an old feeling—jealousy—but for someone who had gambled with so much of his life, to feel out of control like this, to feel exposed—it unnerved him.

He had always prided himself on his ability to remain composed. He was a master of manipulation, a master of the game. But this was different. He could feel the walls around his heart beginning to crack, the fear of losing you threatening to swallow him whole.

He stood abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor, drawing attention. You looked up, your expression a mix of confusion and concern. That was all it took to push him over the edge.

Aventurine’s smile was strained as he approached you, though it didn’t reach his eyes. He leaned in just enough for you to notice the tense edge to his movements. “I think,” he began, his tone almost teasing, but there was something deeper behind it, “that I should be the one to occupy your attention for a while, don’t you think?”

You raised an eyebrow, clearly unaware of the storm brewing beneath the surface. “Aventurine, what’s wrong with you? Why are you—”

He cut you off, his voice low but with an unmistakable edge of tension. “Nothing’s wrong,” he said, though the words were laced with an undercurrent of something darker. “I just don’t like seeing what I’ve worked so hard to gain slipping away.”

You stared at him, now understanding that something more than mere playful banter was at play. “What are you talking about?”

He laughed, though there was no humor in it. “I never lose. Not in this game.”

You stepped closer, your hand gently resting on his. “Aventurine, you don’t have to play games with me. Just tell me what’s going on.”

He hesitated, his expression faltering for just a moment, before he smirked again. “Perhaps it’s just the thrill of the chase. Or maybe... just maybe, it’s that I’m afraid of losing.”

For a moment, he allowed himself to be vulnerable, before the mask slid back into place.