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kingkat12 · 3 months ago

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fuck-me eyes and first times (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, piv sex, loss of virginity, inexperienced sex?, oral sex (female receiving), mutual masturbation, awkward real moments lol, dry-humping, use of contraceptives, drunk driving, Roman using his powers for good?, blood, FLUFF, a dash of angst

summary: you've been unlucky with your first times all your life-- but tonight, you're sleeping with the equivalent of your shooting star.

word count: 12,140 (i love you guys, do u see)

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11

a/n: FINALLY THEY’RE FUCKING ISTG?? tihiii this is a bit of a different chapter!! i'm dead tired of reading smut where everything goes perfectly the first time and they barely communicate, so hopefully this will be a bit more realistic (hopefully!!) sorry for the wait, and hope you enjoy!!!!!!;)

The first time I broke a bone, I kicked my foot into the wall in a fit of rage.

The first time I got an A on a test, I cheated by writing the answers under my skirt.

And the first time I lost a friend? That was the story of how I got here in the first place.

To say my track record for first times was bad, was an understatement. I didn't see myself as an angel of the world. However, as I glanced to the side for a brief moment at an intersection, I looked directly at the man who'd often joke he was the devil. Roman had spread out in the passenger seat, still a little drunk as his long legs rested against the dashboard. It didn't matter how many times I told him to take them down, that if I were to crash his car he'd fold in two and die-- he didn't care.

We were still a little intoxicated from the party, but I was in a better condition than him, which was why I was driving; something he'd never let me do if he wasn't in this state. Roman's head lolled back against his seat, his eyes closing as he hummed along to the music. Space Song by Beach House was always my favorite song to drive to at night, and I was glad he seemed to like it as well.

The first time I heard this song, I had been driving home after getting introduced to Letha at a party. I was over the moon, happy to have finally found a person in this wretched town that I could enjoy the company of. I had been so dreadfully bored of all the others.

Letha was a good hugger. A good listener-- never scared to tell the truth, especially as we grew closer.

"Roman is my baby cousin, I love him to death, but damn he can be annoying," she had said, smiling at me as she leaned against the kitchen counter. "The amount of friends I have lost to him is just crazy. Every single one seems to fall over like dominoes whenever he's around, and honestly? I don't get it. Maybe it's because we're related and all, but there has to be a fucking limit to how many times something like this can happen? How many times can he sleep with my friends and get away with it? Him doing that is the same as me sleeping with Peter, it's just not okay! I would never fucking do that! This situation is becoming hysterical, to be honest."

I remember frowning-- "Hysterical?"

"Yeah... If I wasn't so pissed at him, I'd just laugh at the absurdity," Letha's green eyes remained kind despite the heaviness of the topic. "But at the end of the day, I'm glad I get to keep you to myself. My previous friends were nothing compared to you."

Letha's words were sweet, but something felt off. I smiled as I spoke, hoping to keep my query a light one; "What do you mean, keep me to yourself? Gonna chain me up, Letha?" I gave her shoulder a nudge as she laughed.

"Not like that, you freak! I mean that Roman doesn't seem interested in you at all, so I feel safe that you'll stay. And if he were to be, you'd never do anything like that to me," She put away her empty can of beer, and something in her eyes shifted just a smidge-- I wouldn't have caught it if my senses hadn't been sharpened by the mention of his lack of interest in me.

"... Right?" Letha asked, urging a response. It seemed to dawn on her that she sounded on the brink of bitterness, and she broke out into an even wider smile to compensate; "You don't seem like the type to sleep with my cousin, but maybe I'm wrong?"

"Never," was what I had answered that night.

Never... Gosh, I was delusional to think I could behave.

Once again, I glanced at Roman at the next red light, watching the way one strand of hair strayed from his stylings and laid in a soft wave over his forehead. He opened his big, green eyes, smirking as he realized he was being watched-- "Eyes on the road,"

It was embarrassing how fast I blushed. I quickly nodded, gripping the steering wheel harder as I fixated on the red light above us. "Was it the next intersection I needed to get off on?" I asked, hoping not to linger on the subject of my peeking. "Could you maybe turn on the GPS on my phone just in case you fall asleep?"

"I'm not sleeping," Roman prompted, holding out his hand to take my phone.

As I reached for it in my back pocket, I felt it vibrate as the lights turned green. I gave Roman my phone, in a rush to not miss the light even though we were the only ones on the highway. "Who's calling?"

Roman didn't answer me-- I pieced together who it was when he started greeting my mom.

Oh no.

I freed one hand from the steering wheel, trying to get a hold of my phone as Roman quietly laughed at my attempt. I didn't succeed; "Yeah, she's here," he said, grinning as he motioned for me to keep driving. "I hoped to have her stay over at my place tonight, as my mother is desperate to meet your lovely daughter."

I rolled my eyes, mouthing a simple fuck you. Roman had to bite down on his lip to suppress a laugh-- we both knew his mom was out of town and that his intentions were far from anything as pure as to introduce me to her.

My mom seemed flustered by his pleasantries on the other side of the phone, but I couldn't make out the specifics of what she was saying. It didn't sound like she was objecting, though.

Roman nodded along as he turned down the music on the stereo and (finally) removed his legs off the dashboard. "No, of course, I wouldn't dream of giving your daughter any alcohol! Yes-- Yes, we were at a party just now, but we're both sober as rocks!" He glanced at me, mischief dancing in the green of his eyes.

The look on his face now was priceless. Although he was lying to my mom right up her face (her ear?), he still looked damn charming as always.

"Uh-huh..." Roman mumbled, now reciting his phone number at her request. "We'll probably be up having dinner, so you can call me anytime if you have any questions!-- Yes, I know it's late to have dinner, but my mother is European like that. Your daughter is in good hands, don't worry!"

I rolled my eyes once more, knowing how fond my mom was of him and how easily she'd eat all of this up. When Roman finally got off the call, he broke out into a string of laughter-- "Your mom is so damn sweet, but I can tell she's terrified we'll have sex. It seems you've taken after her,"

"I'm not terrified!" I whined, turning left to get off the highway.

He snorted; "I was two seconds away from telling her I have a stash of condoms, and that she shouldn't worry about having to take care of a mini-me when you leave for college,"

I did my best not to blush-- this conversation was getting more and more suggestive. "Shut up," I mumbled. "I'm not terrified."

Roman's eyes softened as he sat back in his seat and watched me drive his car. I knew I was giving away my true feelings regarding the matter with the way I was anxiously tapping my fingers against the steering wheel. I continued; "I just had you locked in a closet trying to convince you I'm not. It's not that big of a deal,"

"Relax, I'm just teasing you," Roman ran his fingers through his hair, gazing into the rearview mirror to check how messed up it had gotten. His red car had an open roof, after all. He sighed, trying to choose his next words wisely. "Not a big deal, you say?"

"Well..." I was unsure whether to be honest or not.

Roman nodded, looking out at all the trees passing us by. His silence was unnerving, and I turned up the music to tune it out. I couldn't stand this. Something in him switched; Maybe he was upset that I said it wasn't a big deal? Or maybe he was realizing it was a big deal to him? I needed to change the subject; "This is the right direction, no? I feel like I'm just driving deeper into the forest--"

"I've never told you this, but after the first time we kissed, I kept having the same dream where never left the seven minutes in heaven closet," Roman placed his head in the palm of his hand as he leaned his elbow against the car door, sighing. "Over and over, every night. Nearly drove me mad. And in the dream, there were no seven minutes, no time limit. So it was just you and I, and we were going at it like fucking crazy."

I held my breath, my eyes widening further with every sentence. What? Was he drunk-rambling or was this something else?

Roman sighed again, attempting to relax as he closed his eyes and stilled in his seat. Like this, I could nearly mistake him for being asleep. "It all started with me wanting to fuck you," he mumbled. "But every night, at the end of the dream, I got greedy... Because suddenly, I also wanted you to love me."

Had I not been good at keeping calm, I would've probably crashed the car into the nearest tree. I didn't get much time to process, to feel the weight of his confession, until Roman snapped out of it like a character taken straight out of an animation, now sitting up; "Turn here,"

I drove up to a huge gate, stopping the car as I tried to steady my breathing. "Roman--"

"Two seconds," he said, getting out of the car to walk up to the intercom. He was as good as normal now.

I was left still gripping the steering wheel for dear life, my mouth opening and closing as I tried to find the right words. I watched as Roman typed in a code, and the massive gate slowly opened as he jumped back into the car.

My breath was still held in my chest as I turned to him, eyes wider than plates of expensive china.

Roman glanced back at me with an innocent smile; the mood had completely switched. "Breathe," he cooed, reaching forward to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. "It's just a mansion." With a sharp intake of air, he glanced at the backseat and the crumbled-up hot pink crop top we had brought with us (stolen, actually) from the party-- "A mansion with a possibility to put that anomaly in the fucking laundry."

I turned towards it as well, returning to my mind at the sight of the obnoxious colour of the top-- Knowing I had made him cum into the fabric of it merely an hour ago still felt like a triumph.

... Was it maybe my turn, now?

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And he was right-- this was an absolute castle of a house. I had suppressed the truth about Roman's wealth for as long as I could, not wanting to think about it in case my mind went haywire about it, but now it was smacking me in the face.

Still, Roman's hand on the small of my back was a comfort as he led me through the mansion on the most impromptu show-around I've ever witnessed. "This is the room where I learned how to shoot darts," he mumbled, pointing at the small dents in the wall. "I didn't know the darts were actually stuck to the wall and not the printed dartboard I hung up..." He bent down, picking up the painting his mother had hung up to cover the indents.

I couldn't help but laugh, clinging to his arm as we moved from room to room. The mansion was gothic, vampy, but that might've just been my imagination playing with me. The tall ceilings were intimidating, yet beautiful-- judging by my surroundings, there was no denying that everything around me cost a fortune.

I was yanked out of my trail of thoughts when Roman led me behind a red curtain by one of the big windows in the next room, and I giggled as he wrapped it around us. My back was pressed against the wall, engulfed by both the curtain and Roman's embrace; "This is where I learned how to French," he whispered, smiling as he pressed a kiss to the corner of my mouth. "And it was horrible. She fucking bit me and I squealed like a girl."

If Roman was trying to distract me from what he had said in the car, he was certainly doing a good job. The mental image of his first French kiss kept me beyond entertained, and we both continued laughing as he got us out of the wrap of the curtain.

However, it was the walk up the circular stairs that truly made it dawn on me who I was dating-- Roman Godfrey, the future heir to a billion-dollar company. Fuck. I stared up at the painting above us, the one of him and his mother posing with a rather regal-looking background. He couldn't have been more than fourteen in that picture, and I could see his classic intimidating stare through the painting and the way he clutched the chair his mother was posed on. It was clear that the boy in the painting didn't want to be there at all.

Roman turned, realizing what I was looking at; "I fucking hate that one," he grumbled, giving my hand a squeeze. "I refused to smile at that age. I look like I'm on the brink of killing myself."

"Not true," I squeezed his hand back. "Give yourself some grace. How old were you?"

"Fourteen,"

There you go. "Judging by the painting, I think we could've been friends at fourteen,"

Roman stopped in the middle of the curved stairway, his brows drawing together. "How so?"

I shrugged, trying not to focus on how much taller he was than me. If I thought about it for too long, I'd jump him. "Because I wore all black for about a year. If you refused to smile, and I refused to show any joy, I think we would've been a killer duo,"

Roman blinked twice before cracking into a chuckle. "That's unexpected,"

"Bet,"

"You're all... cute and bubbly now,"

"You think?" I wasn't sure how much I agreed. "The girl that's fucking around with her ex-best friend's cousin?"

Roman had to bite down another laugh. "What do you mean, fucking around? I haven't as much as touched you compared to how I could've,"

Oh.

Oh God.

I held back a shiver, staring up at him as he resumed leading me up the stairs. "But... you have touched me,"

"Sure," Roman proceeded to get a proper look at me in the darkness of the night when we reached the second floor. The green around his widened pupils practically shone-- it was impressively cat-like. "Impossible not to, with those fuck-me eyes of yours."

"Hey!" I wasn't sure why I was protesting, but I knew his snicker egged me on. "I don't have... that!"

I could see that Roman was on the brink of cooing at me, and he sucked in a sharp breath as he sunk his teeth into his bottom lip. I hadn't seen him this amused in a while. "Right," he purred. "You don't. Not a trace at all." With a short kiss on my forehead, he moved away from me and started walking down the dark corridor. "Keep those fuck-me eyes in the hallway, and I might let you sleep tonight."

I sighed before gearing up into a walking sprint to catch up with his long strides-- If only he knew that sleep was the last thing on my mind.

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When we finally reached Roman's bedroom, I couldn't believe the size of it. My room was nothing in comparison. I had certainly not expected the posters-- there were many rare classic horror films and some bands I was sure his mom probably loathed. However, I was surprised by the lack of half-naked models on his walls which I had always imagined; I let out a short, relieved breath. "Your room is nice,"

Roman hummed, throwing his jacket on a chair nearby. "Not too boyish for you?"

"Nah," I mumbled, walking up to the posters on the opposite wall. There were a lot of movies I hadn't seen yet-- still, I couldn't help but laugh a little when I saw The Godfather. "It's very you."

"How great that you like me, then,"

"Lucky for you, yeah," There was something about this room that I couldn't help but love-- this was where Roman woke up and fell asleep. This was where he probably spent most of his time. I wondered whether the pillows smelled of his going-out cologne or the lighter one he usually wore to school. I wondered whether he'd been caught smoking in here, whether he'd done coke with Peter on his desk, and how many girls he'd had up here. By the likes of it, I somehow doubted anything like that ever happened at his place. If he had waited this long to have me over, I decided it was highly unlikely he'd invite someone he didn't know very well.

I clasped my hands behind my back, taking long strides as I scanned the many posters on his walls.

Roman sat down on the chair by his desk, spreading out as he watched me with a smirk. "Not what you expected?"

I turned to him, my brows drawing together; "Why? Are you nervous or something?"

"I'm not nervous," Roman huffed, folding his arms over his chest. Now that I was looking straight at him, it was clear that he was. "I'm simply asking."

A knowing smile crept up my cheeks-- it felt like I had the upper hand, for once. "You're nervous,"

"Am not!"

"And now you're fidgeting,"

I was correct; Roman's right leg had given into a slight bounce. He rolled his eyes, muttering curse words under his breath. "It's not every day that I have girls up here, okay? I'm never here, stuff always happens at someone else's-- well, now your room. Because this is, like... my lair,"

I had to bite back an amused smirk; "Your evil lair?"

"Bingo. This is where I dissect people and stuff," He pointed to the table next to him. "So... yeah. Your opinion matters to me, I guess."

"Oh, does it now?"

"On some things, sure,"

I nodded, focusing on how the moonlight was dipping into the dark brown of Roman's hair. He didn't have to be so pretty all the time, did he? How rude. "Such as...?"

With a shrug, Roman now gazed at the tall ceiling. Like this, he almost looked bored. "Your opinion of me is the one that comes to mind, I guess,"

"My opinion of... you?" That was new.

Roman met my eyes again, this time with a new emotion-- his head was slightly tilted to the side, and he was looking at me through his brows. I had a feeling he didn't intend the look to be as intimidating as it was. "It fluctuates,"

"My opinion?"

"Yep," he said. "Some days, you look at me like I'm everything. And then, the next day, I'm the biggest asshole in the world."

My lips drew together in a tight line-- this was unexpected. "And here I thought I was the only consistent thing in your life," I mumbled. "I don't know, Rome, every couple has its ups and downs, no? But I don't want them to make you doubt what I feel for you. Because... you know, right?" I started taking wary steps across the room. "You know I adore you, there is no way you've managed to miss that?"

With a sigh, Roman sat back in his chair with a smile. "Sure, I know that," he murmured, watching my every step with anticipation. "And I bet that tree you carved our initials into can attest."

Goddamn it. "You're never going to let go of that, are you?"

As I finally approached him, Roman led me between his legs with a gentle hold around my waist. "Nope," He pressed his lips against my clothed chest, his fingers slowly digging into my top. My arms draped around his neck, and my next words were muffled against his hair; he reeked of his usual cinnamon-flavored cigarettes-- "But sure, if the tree ever starts talking, it will agree. You know I'm crazy about you,"

"Crazy is the keyword here,"

"Oh, shut up," I muttered, pulling away to get a proper look at him. Roman was so damn beautiful-- I had missed the sight of him in the past twenty-four hours I had been unsure of the state of our relationship. "I still can't believe you thought I was going to break up with you... Do you know how shitty you would have to be to drive me to that point?"

Roman pulled me back in again, enjoying the scent of my perfume with his next deep inhale; he pressed a short kiss to my neck. "Let me be paranoid," The next kiss lingered for longer, the warm exhale through his nose grazing my skin.

"But I don't want you to be," I tried. "I don't ever want you to doubt us like that. Never, ever again."

Roman stilled. With a sigh, he spoke; "Okay... but that's where you step into what people in my family call a deathtrap," He motioned for me to sit down in his lap, and with wary movements, I draped my arms around his neck and sat down, allowing him to place a sweet kiss to my cheek. "Deathtrap?" I echoed.

"Deathtrap," Roman shifted, placing one arm around my waist as his free hand traced small circles into my thighs. "Otherwise known as... hope." And just like that, it was as though his mind went elsewhere, as though something in his eyes shifted.

However, I'd had enough of that-- I wasn't having any of it tonight. Knowing Roman saw hope as a deathtrap made my heart burn. Wary of not being too abrupt, I slowly placed a finger underneath his chin, catching his attention. "If you don't want to harbor any hope of your own, I'll lend you mine," I whispered, gently nudging his nose with mine.

Roman's pupils dilated as his hot breath fanned against my upper lip. I could smell the beer on him, the cigarettes, yet the most prevalent was the anxiety-- it brushed upon my skin, and caressed my heart. "All of it, Roman," My hand went back into his hair, stroking through the softness of his locks. "All my hope, all my love... it's all yours to borrow. To keep, to mold, to steal, to hold, for as long as you like. It's not a trap of any kind. You're safe with me."

That was all it took, and so he gave in; with the smallest of sighs, Roman closed his eyes, relishing in the moment. "You make me feel... you make me feel," he echoed, almost in disbelief. "It's a painful thing, is it not?"

I dared to let my hand brush down the side of his face, my thumb gently ghosting over his closed lid to feel the softness of his lashes against the pad of my finger. "It doesn't have to be. It could feel really, really good,"

Roman let out a shaky breath against me; "I want that for you," he said, opening his eyes. The green in his eyes shone in the white shimmer of the moonlight, illuminating the intent in his words. "Want to make you feel good... in every way possible."

Something about the drop in his voice nearly made me shiver-- I couldn't allow myself to, not in his lap. It took a few seconds for me to notice that I was holding my breath, staring back at him with a look on my face which I hoped didn't give away too much. Maybe I had misinterpreted his words? Maybe Roman meant that in a romantic way?

However, with the following upward curve of the corners of his mouth, so small I could barely notice it, I knew my intuition had been right. Roman definitely meant that in a different way.

... I needed to listen to my intuition more, didn't I?

Roman's hand on my thigh lifted, now removing the vial of blood around my neck to place it on the table nearby; he proceeded to put his palm against my cheek with the gentlest touch, softly caressing my skin with his thumb. This was when it dawned on me that we were alone. Completely alone. Possibly for the first time ever. No interruptions, with no one to hear anything. Had this been a month ago, that fact alone would've been enough to make me jump off his lap, and I would've probably paced up and down along his room with nervous steps to soothe my anxiety. Being alone with him meant that I wouldn't be able to contain my need for him, I was sure of it.

But now? I believed Roman could do that for me. Soothe me. He could calm me down like no other. Now, I knew he wouldn't run off after getting what he wanted-- because now, I knew that what he truly wanted was me.

"Could you let me do that?" Roman breathed, the green of his eyes finding my lips. I was confused as to how I hadn't melted into his lap already. "Make you feel good?" He leaned forward, just a few inches, now brushing the pad of his thumb across my bottom lip, transfixed. "Or... are you sure you want to do this? Have your first time with someone like me?"

There was something about the fact that he was even asking-- the old Roman would never. "Who else would I have my first time with? It's always been you," My lips parted in a soundless intake of breath, my gaze darting to his plush, pink lips. Like this, I could almost feel them against me; we had kissed so many times that my body remembered the sweet push of his lips simply by gazing at them. Still, I was afraid it would never be enough, and every kiss was as thrilling as the first one. "Just being with you like this feels good already."

Roman hummed, absentminded. "Not what I'm getting at,"

"I know," I breathed. "But I can't help but worry that--" I had to clear my throat, swallowing. Why was I getting so damn nervous? It was getting harder to breathe, and I was sure my cheeks were flushing. "Well... That I won't know what to do."

With a sigh, Roman bit down on his lip to hold back a laugh. "It's your first time, you won't have to do much," Despite his lids hanging heavy over his darkening eyes, I could see the want building in him. "I'll take the lead, okay? You just relax." He steadied me with his palm over my cheek before leaning forward-- my body hitched with caution as he brushed his lips across mine, slanted, until I allowed myself to give in.

The soft pillow of Roman's lips was the sweetest pressure I had ever known. I could feel my blood heat with the intent of the kiss, and I suddenly got the urge to cross my legs to calm myself down-- I knew I couldn't. Roman's breath fell softly against my cheek as my hands went up into his hair, tugging gently at the tips of his dark locks as I kissed him back with my lips slightly parted, moving against his as though he was whispering me a question.

Maybe I didn't hear it-- maybe it was a warning? Had he actually whispered something, or was I imagining things? Because with the next second, Roman hooked his arm under my knees, lifting me off the chair as I yelped into the kiss. It didn't take long before I eased, telling myself he had lifted me many times before, and that he would never drop me. Never, ever. Roman smiled against my lips, humming just slightly as he carried me bridal-style across the room. It felt silly, cliché, until it dawned on me-- was he playing the cliché out for me? Was this what he perhaps imagined I wanted, something pure, something classically virginal?

In the few seconds our kiss was broken, Roman placed me down on the bed and watched as I giggled; it was impossible not to laugh as the recoil of the springs threatened to bounce me up in the air again. He tsked, now grinning as he made space between my legs, drawing me closer before he kissed me once more. It was bolder this time, pressing the soft fullness of his mouth against mine-- there was nowhere else for me to go but to him.

My hands wove into Roman's hair again, pulling him closer as my heart thumped hard in my chest. Was this really happening? Or was this maybe something I was imagining, maybe the alcohol hadn't left my system yet? "Rome--"

Before I could continue, his lips were on mine again like a magnet, drawing us together, unable to separate the magnetic forces long enough to let me speak. It was confirmed; he was definitely here. This was real. There was an urgency to Roman's stubborn kisses-- you're mine, just accept it. Being kissed into submission was something I had never imagined was possible, yet here I was, my lips parting with a soft whimper, feeling his tongue against mine; it filled me with a complete and utter satisfaction, a final statement.

I wanted him to devour me. As I coiled my fingers around Roman's dark hair, tugging him closer, I so desperately wanted only that. To melt into him, to become one-- was that maybe the core concept of sex which I had misunderstood all up until this exact moment? Just the thought of being connected with Roman like that, knowing he could possibly be inside me-- that thought had never evoked the physical reaction in me before as it did now.

Well, fuck. I realized I was screwed before it had even happened.

Sucking in a sharp breath, the silk of Roman's expensive duvets kept me grounded as he softly groaned into my mouth. His tongue circled mine before gently sucking the tip of it into his mouth, and he listened to my whimpers as he withdrew shortly after, a lone string of saliva still linking us. I was unsure why I was left so speechless, why every little thing he did made me feel like my body was on fire, but I knew there was no rationality in need. The innate need ravaging through your veins. There was no way to make sense of it, and I was certain Roman was aware of that too. Yet suddenly, he was near-motionless, blinking twice as if he was a little lost on what to do, which I immediately thought was odd--

Oh. There it was. I was wondering when that would happen.

So... Roman wasn't lost. Far from it. Flustered might be a better word-- I felt his erection poke into my stomach, and it made me realize how big his pupils had gotten. That was quick. "Uh... Surprise?" He awkwardly cleared his throat as his green eyes nearly devoured me whole. "Fuck it, there's one thing I want to do before we go on. It'll take a second."

I held my breath-- with Roman, that could mean anything. "... Okay?"

"Don't look so scared," he teased, getting off the bed and walking to his nightstand. In my head, I wondered whether he was grabbing condoms, or whether he was about to impose something kinky on me. I was ready to start my rehearsed lecture on going slow with me, that it was my first time and everything, until my mind blanked at the sight of a... candle?

Roman got a lighter nearby, looking back at me with a trying smile. "You once said that me and sweet don't go together," he explained, lighting the candle. "On our first date, I believe, if we can call it that. The blackmail part of it was probably not ideal, but it counts in my head. Anyway, I thought you might be right about the sweet part... but it doesn't mean I shouldn't try to be."

I was afraid I'd melt much, much faster than that candle. "Don't tell me you went out and bought that candle just for this?"

Roman shrugged, hoping to brush it off. "Well... I was determined to prove you wrong. And I had a candle for my first time, and I guess it eased me a little. But, uh... I think this is actually a funeral candle,"

"I see," I had to contain a laugh. Sitting up, I reached for his fingers as I longed to touch him again; "Well, no one's dead yet, but the night is still young."

Unable to hold it, Roman snorted, placing the lighter back on the nightstand before he interlocked our fingers. "I'm never doing anything like this again, so I suggest you cherish it,"

"What? But now I'm growing fond of the funeral candle, you're breaking my heart!"

Roman rolled his eyes, sinking down on the bed again, and he brought our intertwined fingers above my head. "If that's what I need to do to get you in my bed, I'll buy the whole fucking candle company,"

There was something exciting about the fact that Roman genuinely could. It wasn't just an empty threat. If he got high enough one night, I was sure he'd know who to call. I was surprised to feel he was still hard now that his erection was pressed up against me once more, but I didn't get much time to think about it-- Roman freed one of his hands, and he managed to make his way under my top as he kissed me once more.

My breath hitched against the soft push of his lips as it hit me that I might have to get fully naked for this. Fuck. Okay. Yet my anxiety eased at the thought of him being fully naked too-- I found my hips keening up against him, my need for friction growing with my arousal.

Roman smiled into the kiss; it was a ravenous feeling. "Impatient?" he asked, barely leaving my lips.

"Yeah," It was merely a breath-- I felt his hand ghost over my bra, slowly tracing the hem. I could barely think, too excited to function anymore.

"No need," Roman pulled away, letting go of the remaining hand above my head as his fingers now toyed with the edge of my top. "We have all the time in the world."

His tone was enough to bring scarlet to my cheeks, but I nodded, swallowing when he bunched the fabric up in his hands and lifted it up and off of me. I raised my arms, pouting just slightly at the loss of contact-- who would've thought I'd get more drunk from kissing Roman than the beer Peter gave me earlier?

With a sigh, Roman's eyes consumed me; the smirk with which he looked down at me only made me more flustered. "Rome," I whined, reaching my hands out for him. "Stop that, get back here. This isn't anything new." That was true-- me in my bra wasn't a sight he hadn't seen before.

Roman tsked, sending me a stern look. "You're disturbing my thought process,"

"Your thought process?--"

"Yep," he said, shrugging. "I'm just thinking about how I want to cum right..." Roman trailed a line across my lower abdomen with his finger, using a touch so light it immediately made me squirm. "... here."

The squirming quickly turned into a small shiver, and my hands went straight to my face as my blush deepened.

There was a change in Roman which was noticeable by the way he lost his smile, lost in whatever images he had in his head as he now leaned back down, pressing eager kisses to the apex of my collarbones. His lips trailed down my body, his fingers digging into the sides of my waist-- his mind was gone. I tugged at his hair as he inched further away, and I whimpered at the sensation of his tongue tracing a circle around my belly button. I never expected myself to like anything like that, but damn-- heaven. This was heaven.

I was reminded of how much bigger Roman was than me when I was suddenly yanked to the edge of the bed, and I could only yelp as I did nothing to fight it. His hands trailed down the sides of my hips, now hooking his fingers around my panties, not yet taking them off-- instead, he was kissing me through my soaked underwear, humming.

Christ, this was something I could get used to. I managed to register the fact that he wasn't on the bed anymore, and I propped myself up on my elbows with the last remaining power I had to confirm my suspicions. Roman stopped for a moment, pulling away to glance right back at me; "What?"

"You're... kneeling,"

"... Yeah?"

It didn't register in my head. "You don't kneel for anyone," The Roman Godfrey didn't get on his knees for anyone in the world. In my mind, he thought the world should be kneeling to him, and that he would never stoop so low.

However, the look he gave me in return told me everything I needed to know. Come on, now. Roman pulled my underwear off as he spoke, peeling it down my thighs; "I kneel for you," To him, that was as simple as a fact. The most logical thing in the history of the universe. He didn't even seem to deem the subject worthy of a further conversation, now grabbing my hips to bring me even closer to the edge of the bed as I let out a small squeak. Roman led my legs to hang over his broad shoulders as he leaned forward, rings of desire around his eyes as he licked a broad, flat stripe up my sex.

Fuck-- I did my best not to mewl as my fingers reached for his hair once more, twirling into the soft curls of his hair. "Rome--"

At this point, I was sure he wouldn't hear me no matter how loudly I spoke. Roman sensed I was about to start keening against him, and he pulled my legs back and held my thighs in place as he slicked his tongue in between my slit, mouth moving as though he was pressing deep, heavy kisses against me. I whimpered, my grip on his hair loosening as I felt my conscience slip into its usual drugged-on-Roman state. A very, very dangerous state of mind, if you ask me.

Giving me some time to breathe, Roman moved to leave soft kisses up along the crease of my thighs. "Keep your legs like this, okay?" he said, slowly trailing one hand up my thigh. Roman's finger teasingly tapped my clit, and he turned to watch the thin line of slick connecting the pad of his finger to me. It was hard not to squirm, and I brought one hand up to my mouth to hopefully suppress any noise. "Rome, what are you?--"

Oh. My breath hitched as he eased his slicked middle finger into me, careful to go in with slow strokes. I whined against my hand when Roman's mouth returned to me, sealing his perfect lips around my swollen nub, adding pressure. It was almost too much-- I felt myself clench around his finger when he curled it upwards, just as his lips covered my mound, sucking me in.

"Christ," I breathed, reaching down to grab a hold of Roman's hair, the slick sounds of his mouth making goosebumps appear along my skin as I contained a shiver. "Shit, Rome, it feels-- so, so good--"

My mindless ramble came to an end with the next hitch of my breath; Roman added another finger, humming against me as an answer. With how nervous I was, it was a tight fit, and the sting that followed made me instinctively tighten my fist in his hair, my skin straining over my knuckles. It was hard to keep still, a string of whimpers escaping my lips.

My hands shook as Roman continued slowly stroking his fingers into me. I wondered whether he could feel my anxiety seeping into my lust-- it was becoming so real. Roman's green eyes darted up at me, stilling his fingers, giving me time to adjust. He pulled away from me, leaving his digits in me as he spoke; "I'm not gonna last long if you tighten up like that later,"

His words conjured a deep blush to my cheeks, and I brought my hands up to my face to hide. "Sorry," I breathed. "I don't-- don't know what's happening."

Roman shrugged, placing a wet, gentle kiss against the inside of my thigh. "You're nervous. It's normal," His hot breath ghosted over my soaked sex as he moved to the other thigh-- "I think it'll help if I make you cum like this. You'll relax more. And I'll keep my fingers in, get you used to the feeling... Unless you want them out?"

For a man who said he didn't deal with virgins, he certainly knew how to talk one down from the cliff. I let out a shaky breath, peeking down at him past my fingers; "N-No, it's okay,"

Roman seemed to be holding back a laugh; "You look a little spooked,"

"I... do?" Knowing my boyfriend, I knew he probably found that incredibly hot.

"A bit. Wanna stop?--"

"No!" That was a little too quick. Fuck.

Roman chuckled as he proceeded to bite down on the inside of my thigh with a teasing smirk-- I squeaked, clenching around his fingers. "Good," he purred, leaning forward to press a short kiss to my clit, drawing out another squeak from me. Something told me he liked the sound of my pleasured panic. "It's been some time since the last time you let me do this. I've missed the taste of you."

"... It's been, like, four days,"

Roman let out a groan, and I could see in his eyes that it was building in him-- the innate lust. "A fucking eternity," he breathed, a new rasp appearing in his voice. With that, Roman didn't lose a single second leaning back down, slicking his tongue between my folds, returning to suck down on my clit with a moan.

Oh, well-- I knew I was done for. Still, knowing his goal was to make me cum, knowing I didn't have to hold back, I let my hands wander back into his hair with a whimper of pleasure. It didn't take long before I clenched around his fingers again, the burn of the stretch subsiding with every flick of Roman's tongue.

"Fuck," I breathed. "Fuck, fuck--"

Any attempt to speak dissolved into incoherent cries, teetering on the edge while pleasure surged through me like a relentless wave. Still, it didn't take more than two more sucks to ease me over, and I felt my climax drawing out long and slow against Roman's mouth, tightening around his fingers with a whimper.

My head lolled along the duvets as I tried to catch my breath. With every time Roman did this, it only got better-- it was hard to believe that was even possible. I came to my senses when I felt his fingers slide out of me, the twinge of pain having long passed.

"Fuck," Roman said, a laugh to his voice as he pressed kisses up along my stomach, getting up from the ground. "Best fucking pussy in the world."

God-- I hid my face again, my blush deepening. That dirty mouth of his. "That was so good," I purred, reaching out for him; "Come here, Rome. I miss you up here."

Chuckling, Roman shook his head, motioning for me to scoot further up the bed. "Just a sec," he said, walking back over to his nightstand, opening his drawer again and shuffling around. I did as told, watching him with a sigh; he was right, that orgasm had relaxed me. However, my zen didn't last long-- I suddenly felt all my muscles tightening when I watched Roman bring the fingers he just had in me to his lips, absentmindedly sucking on them as he now held up a silver wrapper with his free hand as though that was the most normal thing in the world. I also spotted a clear bottle which I could only assume was lube.

What the fuck? The sight of him doing that made me want to disappear into the bed-- why was the sight so... thrilling? It must've been the look of enjoyment on his face. "Oh, that's hot," I mumbled, my eyes immediately widening with the realization of what I had just blurted out.

Roman cocked a brow as he unclasped the vial of my blood around his neck, placing it next to the candle before he got back on the bed, now trailing the residue of spit and slick on his fingers across my thighs. "Well, you taste nice,"

"Not that nice?"

A hum; "Wanna try some, make up your mind?" he asked, a teasing smirk spreading across his plush lips as he brought his hand up to his mouth, wiping off the remnants of my slick to coat his fingers.

I shivered, grimacing— "No, thanks," Hoping to distract Roman from trying to convince me, I sat up, reaching for the buttons of his shirt. Frankly, I had enough of being the only one that was undressed.

Roman hummed, following my hands with his eyes, grinning from ear to ear as he threw down the condom and the lube somewhere on the bed. "More for me, then," he mumbled, licking my slick off his fingers as he kept his gaze on me-- it didn't take long before he pushed me back down on the bed, unbuttoning the last of his buttons with ease I could never match.

My heart had probably never worked this hard before in my life. "Rome," I tried, watching him discard his shirt. Fuck-- he was gorgeous. I could feel myself blushing in an instant, shamelessly looking him up and down; I knew he didn't mind. Why was I reacting like this? Roman being breathtakingly handsome wasn't news? "I think... I think--"

"You're still thinking?" Roman's hands gripped my waist as he leaned down, kissing up my torso as I whimpered beneath him, reaching for his hair again. "Stop thinking. No thinking."

"No thinking?" I echoed, giggling as his eager kisses reached my neck, getting ticklish. "You're asking for too much." Now that he was finally close again, I draped my arms around him, trailing my fingers across his broad shoulders with a sigh. Being skin-to-skin like this was my favorite thing in the world-- being connected.

Roman hummed, his erection once again pressing into my lower abdomen. "Either you stop thinking of your own volition..." he said, pulling my chest up against his. "... Or I'll have to fuck your brains out. Your choice."

I shivered, feeling my mind start buzzing. That was a damn easy choice. "That sounds rough," I mumbled, my breath hitching as Roman pressed a kiss to my ear. "You said you'd be gentle..." To be completely honest, this was the part I was nervous about-- would he maybe not be able to be? I was a little scared he'd be like one of those horror-story guys Letha had told me she'd been with, one of those guys that just slap you all of a sudden or start choking you cause they've seen it in porn and think that's normal behavior.

Roman pulled away, hovering barely an inch above my lips; his breath grazed my cheek, and the green of his eyes were glazed over with a look of confusion. "Am I not being just that?" he asked, nodding to the candle.

Oh-- I turned to the supposed funeral candle.

It allowed a sweet kiss to my cheek, the tip of his upturned nose pressing into my cheekbone; "Trust me. I wouldn't want to hurt you, you know me,"

He was right-- from the very first moment we got together, he had told me just that.

Still, it was only when I felt Roman's lips against mine with the softest of pressures, that I pushed my concerns away. It was the sort of kiss that made my heart burn, the sort of kiss that made my hands trail up into his hair to keen him closer. I pushed all my thoughts of horror into a heap, churned it in my mental grinder, processed it, and allowed the product of it to slip past my lips; "I want you," I breathed, feeling myself grow needy against him.

Roman hummed, a small roll of his hips onto mine following-- I didn't expect it to make my breath catch in my chest. "I want you too,"

Something in me ignited; I wanted him to do that again. Disoriented, I reached down for the zipper of his jeans, moaning into the kiss that followed. "Want you more,"

Roman smiled; "Not possible,"

At this moment, I was thankful to be made up of solid matter-- if not, I was sure I'd have melted straight into the bed, a puddle of pure horny. I wasn't sure when Roman lost his pants, too consumed in the kiss to function. My state of arousal only heightened when my hips bucked up, feeling the hard outline of his cock between my legs; I was suddenly reminded of the time we did something similar in an alleyway on our first day. But this was different-- this was a direct contact of his clothed length brushing up against my clit with repeating strokes, a motion which had my breath hitching as my nails dug into his shoulders.

Roman let out a soft groan, nipping at my neck as he ground down against me. "This," he breathed. "This is what you do to me. I wanna be in you so fucking bad."

With the next roll of his hips, I whimpered; the buzzing of my mind refused to still. "Have me, then," was all I managed to say, tugging at Roman's hair as the tips of my fingers burned.

What followed happened so fast, I barely registered it. I heard the ripping of the silver wrapping in the midst of our heated kiss, adrenaline and dopamine coursing through my veins as every little sweet word rolling off Roman's tongue filled me with that familiar warm feeling I always got around him.

For this, it was all worth it. All the drama with Letha, all the tears, all the pain-- it was all worth it.

"You're everything," Roman whispered, rubbing the head of his cock along my soaked sex as my hands skimmed the muscular range of his back. "You're my everything, do you know that?"

God, how I wanted to be one with him. Wanted him in my head, wanted him in me, wanted to melt into him and become one single entity, never to part. From the first moment I met him, from the first moment I laid eyes on him in class, from the first moment he smiled at me, I knew it was Roman. It would always be Roman, it would always, always be Roman for me, and knowing he thought the same of me as well, that I was his everything-- all my longing, everything, had been worth it. Because I was his everything too, finally, just like he had always been mine.

However, as Roman angled his cock and gently pushed the head in, kissing my cheek with the sweetest touch, I didn't expect the painful, sharp sting-- I wasn't sure how loudly I gasped, how far my nails dug into his back, but I was really damn certain that this hurt.

Roman was out of me within the blink of a second; "Shit," he breathed, a panicked look in his eyes. "Should've-- Should've warned you."

The sting remained as I did my best to breathe through it. "That's a stretch," was all I managed to say, stroking over where I had scraped his back.

"I'll take that as a compliment," Roman mumbled, scanning me. He didn't seem bothered by the crescent moons my nails were leaving behind. "You okay?"

"Yeah..."

He cursed under his breath, leaning down to press a kiss to my forehead. "I forgot about this part... My brain doesn't work when you're naked," Roman sighed, reaching for one of the hands I had on his back. "If you want to go on, I might know a way to make it a little easier."

I met his eyes as he brought the back of my hand to his lips; "I guess it's supposed to hurt a little, Roman, just... just do what you usually do, I trust you," Maybe I needed to push through it? I could take a little pain, couldn't I? That was until I remembered the pain again-- it made me clench. Ouch.

With a certain look I knew too well, he shook his head as he now wrapped his fingers around my wrist. "No. It's not supposed to hurt," he said. "And I said I wouldn't hurt you, so..." Roman trailed my hand down along my body, watching as my eyes widened. "In my experience, it helps if you... help."

"Help?"

"Help yourself, so to speak," Roman purred, his signature cocky smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Cause I doubt this will be your first time doing this."

"Doing what?-- Oh," As he placed my hand over my sex, he slid two fingers above mine, guiding me to rub my clit. Roman was right; it wasn't my first time doing that to myself. Still, this was a different feeling-- My hips immediately bucked up into our hands, and when Roman leaned down to kiss me, I knew I was done for.

Everything felt warm, everything felt right. "Just keep doing that," he whispered, sinking his teeth into my lower lip. "Wanna?-- Again?"

Roman didn't need to use more words than that; I knew what he meant. I nodded, feeling my cheeks redden at the fact that I was touching myself in front of him like this-- however, I didn't have time to think much about it.

Soon, I wasn't the only one touching myself, anyway.

"Should've used this from the start," Roman mumbled, cursing under his breath as he poured a dash of lube on his cock from the clear bottle nearby. "Got too excited... fuck." With a lazy grip, he wrapped his hand around his length, spreading the lube with slow strokes.

My mind was buzzing. I watched as Roman's lips parted, a shaky breath escaping him. "It's okay," I tried, rubbing mindless circles around my clit. "It's just me."

"Yeah, and I care about you," Roman's eyes were halfway closed as they met mine, darkened with growing lust. "Ready?"

I nodded-- yeah.

This time, when Roman's cock pushed into me again with the slowest of strokes, the pleasure from my clit dulled the sting. The only thing left to adjust to was the stretch; my breath hitched as my free hand went back up into his hair, wincing against his lips as his thick length stroked me open.

Roman cursed as his parted lips hovered above mine. He held me tightly against his body, watching out for any signs of discomfort before he spoke; "Shit... This feels better than I--thought,"

My head rolled back against the duvet, breathing against Roman with small heaves. "Rome," I whimpered. "Fuck, this is--" I didn't expect the feeling, didn't expect the tips of my fingers to burn more as I grasped at his hair, didn't expect the way my whole body reacted-- it was different from anything else I had ever felt or thought I could feel. Being filled up by Roman was...

It was everything.

Everything I had ever dreamed of.

It felt good, it felt right-- I moaned, clenching at the feeling of his cock slowly sinking into me at a steady pace, my body aching with love. This was as gentle as I bet anything like this could possibly be, and I squirmed a bit beneath him, adjusting to the feeling of having his cock inside of me.

Roman let out a shaky breath, containing the urge to pound into my warmth like I supposed he usually would. "Hurts?"

"No, no-- Ah,"

With his next thrust, Roman kissed up my jaw, keeping every stroke careful. "Want me to put it in all the way?"

"The-- There is more?"

"Baby..." he breathed, containing a choked laugh. "I'm only halfway in."

I was sure I was about to faint. How the fuck?-- No, I couldn't think clearly in this state. No more thinking. I decided to trust him; I knew Roman would pull back if it hurt, anyway. "Okay... Let's try,"

As Roman pushed in more of his length, the quiet moan escaping him blended in with my string of panicked whimpers. I didn't even know I had space inside me for more-- my eyes sprung open, my legs giving into a tremble. "Rome, I-- a-ah, this is--"

"Shh, look at me, breathe," Roman brought his hand to my face, guiding me to look into his eyes. His voice was soft, caring; "You okay? Is this too much?"

The shock was the thing that had gotten to me, I was sure of it. Because after a few more deep strokes, a few tighter circles around my clit, my fear eased as I realized this was a sensation I would be chasing for the rest of my life.

"Feels good?" Roman asked, his voice nearly breaking-- I imagined it was hard to not give in to the pleasure of the tight embrace around his cock.

Still, I could only nod, twisting my fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him towards me to smother him with a heated rush of my lips against his, moaning into the kiss as I pulled my hand from between my legs-- it was starting to brink the line of overstimulation.

"Good," Roman muttered against my mouth.

The kiss didn't last too long; my shock was still coming and going in waves. "I'm-- we're having sex," I blurted out, my cheeks flaring red. The truth was hitting me like a blow to the head. The thing I had dreamed about since the first day I laid eyes on him was actually happening.

Roman contained a laugh, looking rather endeared by my realization; "Yeah, you're doing it, you're having sex... I'd give you a high five, but-- hah, that wouldn't work,"

Why were we laughing? Why was this... fun?

Caught between the fire in my chest, the twinge of humor, and the ache pulsing low between my legs, I whimpered as I realized I wanted-- no, needed more. Still, a small, meek call of his name was all I managed to stutter out.

Roman shifted, pushing my body so that my knees were bent at his sides; "Speak your mind,"

How was I supposed to conjure a cohesive sentence in this state? "I want-- you, more--"

"We're going-- hah, back to that?"

"Not that! More, Rome-- just, more, I need--"

He let out a breathy moan, smiling back down at me; he knew exactly what I meant. "Thank God," Roman's cock filled me over and over, his thrusts growing harder, faster as he found a steady pace to rock into me. "You're taking me so good, aren't you?"

My head felt like it was spinning. This couldn't be real. I couldn't possibly be as lucky as to finally sleep with Roman Godfrey.

His voice brought me back; "You're doing so well," he murmured, burying his face into the crook of my neck, muffling a quiet moan against my skin. It was the most magical of sounds-- my heart was threatening to beat out of my chest, and I was sure the warmth of skin against mine probably helped with the overheating of my brain. "Doing so, so well for me... I've wanted you like this for so long."

"Me too," I breathed, my hips keening to take his thrusts. "Wanted you-- since forever."

My words only seemed to reel him on; Roman hips snapped harder into me as I whimpered. "Forever?"

"Forever-- a-ah,"

Something in Roman's breathing changed. It was almost as though I could read his thoughts, feel his new reality form. Was it maybe the last push he needed to believe I was his till death? That there was a person out there walking this earth, breathing the same air, that could possibly want to be with him for an eternity? "Forever," he breathed, latching onto my neck with repeated needy kisses in an attempt to drown out the noises threatening to spill past his lips. "You and-- and I, forever."

As Roman's cock repeatedly pushed into me, I could only whimper; the stretch was still something to get used to, and my nails bit into his back as I tried to steady myself. "Forever," I managed to breathe out, hearing him moan into my neck at the sharpness of my nails against his back-- I knew he'd like that. I knew Roman too damn well.

"Forever," he echoed, breath washing warm against my ear as he raised himself, his cheek nuzzling mine in an intimate embrace.

I clenched around the girth of his cock, shivering. This was so unbelievably sweet, nothing I had ever expected from him. Roman was so much taller, and his broad build served as a comforting weight through the wave of new pleasure my body tried to comprehend. With the next surge of love washing over my chest, the next pump of Roman's cock, I felt my chin give in to an involuntary quiver as I gripped him tighter.

It was at this moment that it truly dawned on me;

I loved him.

I loved Roman Godfrey.

Tears swarmed my eyes as one of my hands went up into his soft hair, hoping he'd take it as an urging for him to kiss me again. I didn't want to have a chance to talk, to blurt it out and scare him away-- which is why, when Roman shifted and crashed his lips against mine, I only felt relief.

I was safe. I was cared for. And damn, I felt good.

However, what I hadn't expected, was for the shift of angle to brush past a spot inside of me I had only ever felt when Roman's fingers curled into me. But this was far greater, far more stimulating-- I let out a choked moan against Roman's lips, my eyes springing open as my head tilted back into the duvet, heaving for air as my legs gave in to a tremble.

I didn't have to look up at him to know the exact look on his face, yet I dared to take a peek; he was too hot to resist. And there it was, those parted, perfect lips paired with that dark look in his green eyes of victory. This is exactly what he had wanted to reduce me to all along, wasn't it? Roman's hair had never been this messed up (courtesy of my hands), and the sheer look of it nearly made my heart swell. "Good tears?" he asked with a whisper, scanning the look in my eyes.

Fuck, yeah. I could only nod.

Knowing Roman, I was wondering when he'd-- oh, hello, you. I was waiting for the eventual switch. A man like Roman Godfrey couldn't stay sweet forever.

At the sight of my tears, I knew something new in him ignited. He placed a hand over my mouth, placing more of his weight on me as his other hand pulled me tighter against him, the wet snaps of his cock pushing into me growing louder as I moaned out against his palm. "Listen to this," he purred, a sinister smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he made me listen to the sound of our union. "This is sex, you're damn right. This is what you'll be craving from me."

God-- I squeezed my eyes shut, the continuous push of the tip of Roman's cock against my sweet spot inside sending my brain into a frenzy.

"I get why you've been reserved... You'll never be who you were before this again," With a grunt, the next snap of his hips only grew harder, knowing I could take it and adjust. It certainly didn't help the tremble of my body. "Gonna get you fucking addicted to this feeling. To me. Cause you've given yourself to me now, do you-- do you realize that?"

My wet lashes fluttered as I slowly dared to open my eyes, my heart thumping harder than ever before. If only he knew how addicted I already was.

"This is it," Roman breathed, the green hues of his gaze engulfing me; "This is us. This is you. This is who you are from now on. My girl... Only mine. Forever. Gonna help you cum on this cock, okay? Gonna give you the first time you deserve, h-hah--"

Something about the look in his eyes unnerved me, despite the hot nature of his words-- What? There were many ways for him to make me cum, surely, but the second my fingers started numbing up, my mind started flaring red with a passage from my most hated book;

The upir's ability to mesmerize is an ancient and powerful form of psychic influence, capable of bending a victim's will. This control often manifests subtly, with suggestions that feel like one's own thoughts. If one is being mesmerized by a upir, it is often accompanied by a stilling of one's inner monologue, or a numbing sensation. Prolonged exposure can lead to disorientation, memory lapses, and a gradual erosion of autonomy. The key to resisting lies in anchoring oneself to reality—through pain, strong emotions, or focusing on a meaningful object. Beware: once under an upir's thrall, distinguishing truth from illusion becomes a perilous challenge.

Beware.

The last time my fingers had numbed up like this, was the time Roman forced me to tell him what had happened between Jasmine and I. It felt like the autonomy of my thoughts evaporated, seeped out of my ears, and disappeared into Roman's grasp.

However, at this moment right now, this moment of blinding pleasure and complete rapture of my soul and love, I wanted nothing more but this. I knew I wasn't being mesmerized of course, because upirs weren't real-- but as Roman kept my face still and my eyes on him, it felt like it. It was almost like I heard him telling me to cum. A few more thrusts were all it took, the complete transfixion of Roman's unnaturally dilated pupils swallowing me as I only saw green, green, green-- his hand quickly left my mouth to hear me cry out, a choked moan escaping me as the fear toppled me. This was an orgasm unlike anything else I had experienced, and I felt myself pulse around Roman's length, practically milking his cock as I struggled to grapple with the most intense climax of my life. "Fuck-- Fuck!" I whimpered, my nails digging further into his back as tears welled in my eyes.

The mere sight of it was enough for Roman to nearly buckle over, and I was ripped out of the trance, heaving for air as he spilled into the condom, teeth grazing my shoulder as he tried to bite back his moans of pleasure, hips keening into my tight warmth.

I slowly slid my hands off Roman's broad back, realizing we had both dripped sweat onto each other's skin as I hoped my breath would soon go back to normal. My body ached in a way it had never ached before, and I winced as Roman eventually pulled out of me with a sigh.

There was a long moment after he rolled off of me where we simply gazed at each other. I watched the heave of his chest, the way his brown hair laid over his dangerous green eyes, and wondered how on earth I had been so lucky as to have him fall for me too.

However, suddenly, amid my awe, a small droplet of blood gathered at Roman's nose. To my surprise, he was completely unbothered. The look in his eyes told me he had an inkling this would happen, and it further confused me.

I leaned forward to wipe away the blood pooling at his upper lip with my thumb. "You're bleeding," I echoed, aware that I was stating the obvious.

Roman's eyes softened; "Are you, though?"

"... What do you mean?"

Shifting, he wrapped an arm around me, pulling me closer as his other hand slid between my legs, sliding a finger against the wetness of my sex as I squirmed, a short giggle escaping me as I nuzzled up against him. Roman then scanned his finger as I continued to wipe away the stream of blood coming from his nose, watching as it smeared against his cheek. He hummed; "You didn't bleed. At least that's good?"

"I guess?"

Roman kissed my bloodied thumb, a shaky breath escaping him at the taste of the iron; "How was that for you? You okay?"

If only he knew. "You were great," I purred, nipping at his jaw. "It was lovely, Rome."

He let out a breath; "Thank fuck," Roman murmured, visibly relieved. "And you were really damn sweet. I knew those fuck-me eyes would be the death of me... Sorry if it got a little intense at the end, there."

"No, no, that was-- fuck, that was so hot,"

Roman smiled. My sweet boy. Another kiss; "But now, there's one thing I wanted to do." He propped himself up on his elbow, and I closed my eyes as he made sure I laid with my back against the bed-- I was too tired to focus. The ache between my legs refused to subside, making me worried about the state of my thighs tomorrow. They better not fucking cramp up with every step, similar to the day after a hard session at the gym.

And just as I was about to ask him to return to me, to stop doing whatever the fuck he was doing, I suddenly felt a warm, slick substance drip onto my lower abdomen. With a gasp, I snapped out of my drowsiness, only to be met with the sight of Roman holding the condom above my stomach with a devilish grin, letting the content pour down on me.

He chuckled at the sight of my widened eyes, my speechless state-- "Didn't manage to cum here, as I said... so this will do,"

"Roman, for fuck's sake!"

"What? You look good with my cum all over!--"

"Roman!"

"Fine!" he huffed. "Gonna go grab some wipes, I'll be right back. Anything else you need? Water?"

I wondered whether Roman realized how sweet he was being-- I glanced over at the candle flickering in the moonlight, the vial of my blood lying neatly next to it. The sight made my heart swell; God, how I loved him. It killed me that he couldn't know. I knew he'd run in the other direction if he did. "Water would be nice," I breathed, watching as Roman got dressed again.

It all hit me like a wave, now;

The first time I got my heart broken, I had been at fault.

The first time I got a black eye, I had swung the first punch.

But the first time I had sex? It had thankfully been with the man I loved. Still, I was sure the cosmic imbalance would catch up to me again and drag me back down into the dirt soon enough.

But not right now.

Not right now.

Here, I was safe with Roman. The universe couldn't get me now, no-- not with the equivalent of the moon lying next to me. He had returned to me in no time, holding me close in his nearly immediate slumber after having lent me a shirt of his to sleep in. The cosmos wouldn't dare to touch me now.

I adjusted the cover on top of us, kissing Roman's forehead; "Are you sleeping?" I whispered, poking his cheek with the gentlest of touches.

No response. Phew.

And just as I started to fade into sleep as well, I ran my thumb across the softness of his cheek. I connected our foreheads with a content sigh before I pressed my lips against his in a loving kiss. Roman looked so peaceful-- the universe wouldn't dare to take me now, wouldn't dare to wake him up.

"I love you," I whispered like I would be put to death if I awoke him. With one last glance at the candle, my heavy lids fluttered as my heart cried;

"I love you,"

(a/n: thank you SO MUCH for reading this monster of a chapter!!<33 if you've made it all the way down here, here are all the other chapters if you're interested!!<33 MWAH)

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11

tagging those that seemed interested!!<333

@mentallyscreamingsincebirth @putherup @corawithfanfiction @vladsgirlxx

@iamaslytherin0 @sexualparkour @the-universe-is-complicated @heavenly-bratt

@lafemme-nk @namiusedbubble @useyourwandbro @strmborns @literally-lani

@virgosapphire79 @star-girl-04 @veyzus @ddipotassium @pecxiebu

@mil88691 @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @katifefe @sn0wybowie-blog

@lilithskywalker @likecherriesinthespring @sadheartjellyfish @vadersangel

@shehangsbrightly @burningmiraclekingdom @dollforaswan @austinswhitewolf

@nico-velvet @shiiiii-okayyyy

#roman godfrey #hemlock grove #roman godfrey x reader #x reader #bill skarsgård #fanfiction #oneshot #bill skarsgard #fluff #angst #fanfic #highschool!au #hemlock grove fanfiction #THIS WAS SO LONG #I'M SORRY #AND I WANTED IT TO BE AWKWARD I'M SORRY #ARRRGHHH

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goonmieser1069 · 1 month ago

Text

‘No Place Like Home’

Thinking about how Soap would be after a long deployment with roommate!fem!reader

first fic…it’s a long one sorry guys 🙂‍↕️

3.5k+ words

• roommate! john “soap” mactavish/ fem!reader, 18+ , slight angst , violence , mentions of blood and guns, smut , oral (receiving), basically just a lot of yearning 👅, mw3 spoliers•

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It was dreadfully quiet in the small apartment complex where you lived. Your roommate, being gone half the time god knows where for the military, was currently deployed leaving you alone and bored in your shared home.

After a few months of living in the same space, you’d grown accustomed to the Scottish man, enjoying his comforting presence in your world. Whenever he was home -which was rare- he always, and I mean always helped out in every way he could. Whether that be picking up groceries and making dinner for the two of you, or noticing you weren’t feeling well he’d tidy up the place and make you lay on the couch and rest, he’d even sit and listen to you rant about an especially hard day at work.

This was the exact reason why you missed him so much when he was gone. The quiet was always consuming the dark apartment. No matter how many records you play on the record player he’d gifted you the first Christmas you spent in the space after you mentioned your love for vinyl. No matter how many lighthearted movies and shows you’d play, it all reminded you of his absence. Something even after years you grew more and more affected by these deployments.

It all changed for you after one fateful night, you’d both been on the balcony looking over the cityscape. Cigarettes in hand you both sat on the balcony floor, laughing a telling stories about life. Your gaze flickering over to his scarred skin, eyes admiring his baby blue eyes. Feeling your lips curl up into a small smile, as you listened to him speak about his many stories from the military. Something about that night feeling so domestic as you shared fleeting moments of accidental touch of the hands, the sound of each other's laughter, the warmth in when you’d both catch each other's gaze. You couldn’t help but smile at the memory of that night. Growing feelings for the mohawked man, not knowing how to express them.

You sighed tiredly to yourself as you made your way up the complex’s stairs. Your head hung low after suffering a long day of work at your job. The day dragged on longer than you’d have liked after practically drowning in paperwork all day. Your boss adds more and more onto the already endless pile, your hand growing more and more stiff after each signature and swipe of your pen.

Keys jingling in your palms as you unlocked your front door, you lazily wiped your shoes off on the small welcome matt at your doorstep. Dropping your purse on the floor and keys on the kitchen counter you ran a hand through your hair. Slipping off your shoes and shrugging off your coat, you were almost too tired and out of it to notice the boots beside the counter, almost too tired to spot the large duffel bag on the stool, and almost too tired to hear the soft patter of water coming from the shower in your shared bathroom.

Your heart rate increased almost immediately after realizing he was home. Johnny was home. A smile crept upon your face instantaneously, eyes lighting up as you stood still staring at the bathroom door heart fluttering at the thought of seeing those eyes of his again. Always fearing you'd never see them again with how dangerous and demanding his career was. Death constantly looms just meters away from the soldier every time he leaves for work.

After standing there like a fool your cheeks heated up shamefully as you realized how idiotic you looked stopped in place, staring at a door. You quickly looked away as you made your way to your bedroom. Taking a quick shameless glance in the mirror at yourself making sure you didn't look the equivalent of how your day had been spent. Quickly turning away from the mirror you ripped open your dresser drawers, sliding on a comfortable outfit that consisted of an old college t-shirt and a pair of plaid pajama shorts. Taking one last glance at yourself in the mirror. Tucking away strands of loose hair and quickly spraying a spritz of perfume. You decided that your looked decent enough, mind racing a million miles as you hoped maybe you’d grown the courage to express how you felt after his two months of absence.

Immediately whisked away from your thoughts you heard the shower stop silence consuming the next few minutes . Eyes widening as you heard his footsteps echo through the home after a small click of the door opening. Your body reacting quicker than your brain you felt yourself practically speed walking out of your bedroom and to the kitchen where he lingered at the counter. You assumed he hadn’t heard your approach somehow, his back to you as he leaned against the countertop silently scrolling on his phone.

Eyes raking slowly and analytically across his broad frame. Heart racing in your chest upon seeing his dark dampened hair. Your face warming, blush creeping up your neck upon admiring his large , defined back muscles through his teasingly tight black t-shirt that defined his bulky biceps, also sporting grey loose sweats. Biting the inside of your cheek at the sight, you finally broke the silence as you spoke. Voice betraying you completely as you felt your throat tighten, your words forced out and quiet almost like you couldn’t believe them either.

“You’re home..”

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The sharp pain rang through his body, the sharp crack of his arm twisting being held up against Makarov as he felt the hot metal barrel of the man’s pistol pressed against his temple he almost hissed at the scorching sensation. His eyes wide as , blood leaked from his other arm that hung limply beside him. Being shot just seconds earlier, his body leaping back into action after the first bullet, jumping back up to help his Captain who had also gotten shot, now in his current predicament, arm twisted sickeningly with a gun to his head, helpless in every sense.

His head spinning as he was held against his will, almost in a trance as everything happened in an instant. The grip loosening on his mangled arm disappearing completely as he felt his body go limp, falling with a smack against the cold concrete. His head slamming into the hard surface as his vision fizzled out, surrounding him in darkness.

Time stopped completely for Soap, the sound of the distant gunfire fading into oblivion. Frame by frame, memories he cherished flashed across his mind. His childhood, the times he’d spent with his mother and sister, his early days in the military, and all the more recent ones with his squad and you. Your laughter after he cracked an especially funny joke, etched into his mind as he could practically hear the heavenly sound. The way you looked out across the city during the late nights you’d spend out on the balcony together. Or the gentle smile you held each morning when you’d chat with him over coffee before you had to leave for work. The way your eyes glossed over each and everytime you bid him farewell at your door each time you knew he had to leave again, that always hurt his heart the sight of your glassy eyes as he held himself back from reaching out, knowing he'd never let go. All he wanted to do was hold you, tell you it would all be okay, that he'd be okay. He wanted to just promise you, that he'd come back, come back home, come back to you. He never did, he stopped himself each time. He knew he couldn’t promise those things in his line of work , one of the things he prided himself on most was being a man of his word.

All that flashed through his mind now was memories of you, everything about you, every detail he could imagine. Conversations lost in time, nights he regretted not spewing out how he felt so deeply about you. He wanted you to know how much he cared about how your day went when you got home from work each night, how much your smile made his heart leap. Like clockwork he saw you. Just you, your eyes, nose, lips, smile, laugh, hair, how you smelt, how you spoke, how you cried, your touch, how you looked at him, eyes bright like the stars you stared into during your shared nights on the balcony.

Somewhere in his trance his thoughts trailed to what could have been. How you would’ve looked at him as he talked your ear off about how much he loved you. The sight of your smile, how you would’ve looked in his arms as he held you like he’s always longed to. What would your lips have felt like, how they would feel pressed against his own, how your cheeks would’ve been flushed as he kissed you. He imagined how it would’ve been like in the nights holding you in his arms, how your body would’ve felt against his. He shamefully thought about that a lot at nights back home, staring up at his ceiling, his rough hand wrapped around his aching erection as he imagined your softer, delicate hands instead.

What would you have looked like with a pretty little ring on your finger? In a big white dress as he waited at the end of the isle, you’d look gorgeous. You always looked breathtaking to him, but.. what if he never got to see your face again. Never got to hold you. Never got to tell you how much he loved you.

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“You’re home..”

You noticed him tense up immediately, dropping his phone suddenly on the counter as he whipped his body around to face you. He had new scars, a circular almost burn looking mark against his temple. You now noticed the bruising on the side of his arm, mostly covered by a large bandage. That’s when you noticed the tears fall from his pale blue eyes. You froze, never seeing him cry before this. The strong man always either smiling or laughing alongside you. You’ve never seen him look so broken, the ray of sunshine in your life. Your eyes started to water as you watched him near you cautiously, almost like he himself didn’t believe you were really there. Speaking your name breathlessly in a broken whisper.

In a flash all you could do was gasp as his large arms engulfed your frame. Picking you up as if it was nothing and spinning you around once in his arms. You choked back a sob as he embraced you tightly. Burying your head into his chest as you pressed it against his heartbeat, needing to hear it for yourself. His body shook slightly as you felt him cry with you in his arms. He finally got to hold you in his arms.

“I thought i’d never see ye’ again bonnie.”

You felt yourself let out a small sob at his words, throat tightening. You’d ask him about what happened later, what mattered most now was that he was here, Safe, with you. You tried speaking, voice coming out in a small crack as you pulled away from him. Wanting to look at his eyes, those eyes you longed for these past months patiently waiting for him.

“Oh John-…”

You were abruptly cut off by the feeling of his lips against yours. Your hands shaking as you brought them up to cup his stubbled cheek, wrapping the other around his neck as he leaned down. Desperately and sloppily capturing your lips as he hungrily devoured them like he’s been waiting years to do just this. -which he has- Tears mixing, faces shamelessly pressed together as his calloused hands slipped around head, tangling within your hair as he held you for dear life. Savouring every moment as eventually you both had to stop for air.

Heavy breaths echoed through the quiet apartment, his hands still wrapped within your hair as he just looked at you. Eyes red as he stared, words unspoken, icy blue eyes admiring you. Taking in the sight of your now swollen lips, the tears stained on your cheeks. The slight trembled in your lips as they twitched into a small smile all you could muster in the moment. Heart thumping against your chest.

He dipped his head into the crook of your neck, big hands lifting you up with ease, placing you ontop of the counter. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he placed small pecks against your collarbone, leaving a trail against you, stubble tickling your skin. Body suddenly on fire as you felt his hands roam your body, as if they were trying to memorize each and every crevice and detail possible. His breath hot against your neck as he spoke quietly, almost a whisper.

“Is this okay…?”

His accent coming out heavier as he huskily spoke, voice sounding desperate almost a plea against your skin. Eyes now focused up at your face, how could you ever tell him no? Especially when it all felt so right. Anticipation building in your body, the air suddenly feeling heavy in the space. She looked down into his eyes from her place on the counter, growing bashful under his gaze as you slowly nodded your head. Voice cracking slightly as you responded a breathless-

“…yes.”

Wasting no time he wrapped his hand behind your neck as he brought your lips to his once more. His other hand gently lifting your large shirt over your frame, beaming the kiss as he admired you completely. Azure eyes flicking over each and every curve of your body. Calloused hands coming down to run up and down your sides, breath almost catching in his throat as he studied you. Fingertips grazing tenderly against your hot skin, ghosting over your body.

“..fuck yer’ gorgeous..”

He said lowly as he peppered your skin in kisses, leading from your neck as he worked his way lower. Lips brushing against your chest as you tangled your hands within his short dark hair. Fingertips gently resting against your ribs as he lowered and lowered, kissing every mole and every freckle on your skin, admiring you as a whole. As he reached below your bellybutton he looked up at you softly, eyes glassy as he untied your shorts. Easing them off your body along with your panties, lifting you up slightly to glide them off. The fabric hitting the hardwood floor as you suddenly felt too exposed. Bare in front of the man as you instinctively brought your hands to cover what you could of yourself.

“Oh don’ do tha’ to me ‘bon.”

His rough hands came up and gently pushed your arms away, placing them back ontop the counter, your legs wrapped against his body once more as he stood between your legs. Large hands caressing your bare thighs as he brought your lips into a gentle reassuring kiss. More calculated and loving than the ones before, eyes fluttering shut as he moved his lips softly against yours.

He brought his head back away, giving you a reassuring look as he dipped down. Continuing his trail of pecks as he gently pushed your thighs open a little wider, bringing his head down to kiss the inside of your thighs, his lips gentle as he moved closer and closer to your core, practically dripping in anticipation. Looking up at you, eyes trained on your own as you stared down at him. Eyes wide, cheeks flushed as you bit the inside of your cheek.

He slowly brought his head closer to your heat, running a finger against your slick. Feeling you buck your hips slightly at the friction you’ve been craving, the sensation of his hands against your sensitive skin new, but welcomed. His breath hot against the skin he finally placed his mouth against you, slow gentle as he swiped his tongue against your bud.

“F..Fuck!”

You cursed out as your hands instinctively reached for his head sighing in pleasure, thighs wrapping around his head while he lapped at your core. Devouring you like a starved man, the slow pace disappearing as he worked his tongue against you. Legs clenching and twitching every lap he took, his head reeling at the sight of you all worked up. The feeling of your legs against his skull making his cock ache against his boxers, letting out a deep guttural moan through your skin. Hands coming up pawing at your tits, fingers pinching and tugging at your nipples as he eats you out. Soft mewls spill from your mouth, hips bucking to meet his mouth, back arching to press more of your cunt against his mouth.

Your vision blurred slightly feeling his pace quicken, bringing his one hand up, slipping a finger into your drenched folds. A soft gasp leaving your lips as you groaned at the feeling, his thick finger within you as he curled it in and out. Hitting your walls delectablely, as you felt the coil in your abdomen tighten, throwing your head back in pleasure as you let out fast breaths. Chest rising and falling quickly as he never faltered his movements, his hand now palming himself desperate for any friction he could get as he pleasured you.

“Jus’ like tha’…”

He cooed to you against your cunt, groaning into you as your legs tightening against his head, you let out small quick gasps each time his fingers curled in and out, working into you skillfully. Noting how your brows furrowed and jaw hung open as he sucked and licked at your clit fingers pumping in and out of you as you hung your head back vision white as your legs trembled. Hips bucking into him as you coated his face and hand in your juices. Mewls leaving your mouth as you opened your eyes, tilting your head back down with knit brows, his eyes already trained on your face as he lapped up your juices.

“Doin’ so good fer’ me.”

His accent thick as he picked you back up, arms tightly secured around your fram as he brought you to his bedroom. Laying you down on the bed carefully he lifted his shirt off his body, you laid in a daze, chest rising and falling still coming off your high as you stared at him. His muscles twitching with each movement as he shrugged his sweatpants off, his hardened cock strained against his boxers. You brought your arms up shakily above you to his waistband, pulling his boxers down as his erection came out. Eyes wide you looked up at the man, he looked so desperate. Your voice soft, breath hot as you spoke.

“need you johnny.”

You whined as you reached up for the back of his neck, her dipped down to your level flat against the bed as he crawled above you, hovering over your body as his hot breath fanned against your lips. Voice husky as his eyes softened as he stared into your gaze speaking your name breathlessly claiming his love to you as he slowly pressed himself into you.

“I love you so fuckin’ much.. yer all I think about out there bon’ ”

He cooed in your ear as he eased into your tight cunt, face burried into your neck as he bottomed out in you. Your breath hitched as you sucked in feeling his cock twitch inside you. Tears pricking at your eyes, he brought a reassuring hand up lifting his head and cupping your cheek as he held himself up with his other arm. Bringing your lips into a passionate kiss as he rocked his hips slowly, easing you into the feeling of him. Making sure you felt as good as possible before he quickened his pace. The sound of his hips slapping against your bottom half echoed through the room while he rocked in and out gliding of your walls repeatedly small groans leaving his lips each time.

Your body seared in pleasure as you mewled each time his cock hit your walls. Cooing small praises against his lips as you desperately clung to his back. Legs trembling as he snapped his hips in and out, lace quickening as he felt your body tense under him, walls sucking him in achingly. His body reaching its climax as he let out low groans against your neck. Stubble tickling your collarbone, while you clawed at his back. The pleasure overbearing as you trembled one last time, clenching around him hard as you came on his dick. His high following soon after as he pulled out quickly, hot white strings spurting out against your stomach. His breaths heavy as he leaned back up, looking down at your absolutely wrecked self. Fuck you looked stunning under him like this was all he could think.

Your eyes connecting with his as you smiled lazily at the man, eyes crinkling slightly. Bare chest rising and falling periodically. Your hooded eyes cloudy as you stared up at his.

“I love you John.”

She spoke softly, bringing an arm up tiredly and caressing his cheek, thumb brushing over the scar on his chin. He smiled softly at you, lovingly brushing his hands against your sides pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. Whispering to you his voice low and gentle.

“I love you too bonnie.”

He disappeared shortly after into the bathroom, soaking a warm cloth to clean you up before wrapping you up in his arms under the covers. Skin to skin as he held you gently throughout the night, telling you just how much he loved you. Heart full after he finally got to come home, to have you in his arms, to have told you how he felt.

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first fic done 😏 lmk if you guys want a part 2!

i MAY indulge and grant you guys with another part👅

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my-castles-crumbling · 9 months ago

Text

pasta - @jegulus-microfic - word count: 283

"Are you serious?" the man sitting across from James asked, an incredulous expression on his face.

And James didn't blame him, to be honest. He wasn't trying to hide it. It was just...he was having trouble not staring.

He'd originally arrive at the restaurant that night to have dinner with John, a dreadfully boring man from work that he'd finally agreed to dating after multiple requests, mostly because John was nice.

"Get yourself a nice man," Euphemia kept telling James every time he went 'round for dinner, and James contemplated that a bit too much.

Because he didn't want nice. He wanted..

Well, he wanted the man a few tables down. The man with dark, chin-length curls and piercing eyes. The man who kept throwing him withering looks and rolling his eyes. The man whose gaze was making James's body heat up and tense. The man whose beauty was undeniable.

Get yourself a nice man.

Well, maybe that was James's problem.

"Yeah, I think I am," James murmured, and focused on John, was was chewing on his pasta nervously. "I'm so sorry, John, but this isn't going to work out. Here-" And, passing him a fifty-pound note, he stood, heading toward the bathroom, jerking his head slightly, eyeing the man he'd been enamored by all evening.

When he entered the small, single-person restroom, he almost panicked. Of course the man wouldn't follow. What had he done? John was perfectly nice, and decently good-looking and-

Click.

The door opened, and the dark-haired man entered, light eyes full of hunger. "So you really buggered that up, huh?" he asked haughtily, smirking a bit.

"Depends," James grinned. "Are you single?"

And suddenly, their lips crashed together.

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cherryheairt · 6 months ago

Note

O Hello, can you write about Gwayne? I really like the way you write.

EI was thinking something like enemies to lovers. Instead of Baela, she is the one who flies over the dragon. They met at the dinner Viserys prepared before he died in the first season.

At the end of the dance Gwayne is forced to bend the knee and accept Rhaenyra as queen. Her daughter doesn't miss the opportunity to make his life hell, until he corners her in a hallway and takes her like a dragon.

hello! I love this prompt, I miss gwayne already 💔

Beckae is the name I gave MC, just to add to the immersion of a Targ-Velyron lol, pronounced Becky still. No description for the reader (mother is Rhaenyra but father is anyone made up, lets say that the reader looks a spitting image of their father to keep it neutral. fem pronouns. I couldn't include the smut at the end, just a lil steam. I'm sorry 😞, I'm terrible at writing those scenes.

noticed that Gwayne's costume included a ring on a chain, a thing typically done by people who want to keep their wedding ring on them, but not lose them. It gave the the main idea for this lol

Dance of Green and Black

When Gwayne Hightower and Beckae Velayron were forced to wed by order of Rhaenyra Targaryen, both did not bother to hide their vexation. They were married mere days after Rhaenyra won the Iron Throne, her loyal men killing Aegon ii in his state of disarray from his burns.

Now, months later, they had left their marriage uncomsumated and drier than the sandy hills of Dorne. They refused to sleep in shared marital chambers at the Red Keep, having agreed on that one thing. Gwayne reluctantly took his father's place at court, staying among the very snakes that brought him here in the first place. He cursed himself for ever responding to Alicent's letter when Aegon first took the throne. If he hadn't, he'd be living his life peacefully alone at the Old Tower.

Now, his days were spent being tormented by the spoilt Princess. She attended each council meeting, laughing snidely at every suggestion Gwayne gave his Queen, and suggesting one of her own in turn. She got away with this every time, seeing as her grandmother was the Hand of the Queen, Rhaenys, and her mother was the Queen.

Gwayne sipped on his wine, which he had taken to indulging in every council, listening to the drowl words of the nobles around him. His wife shared his boredom, apparently, twirling her own glass in her hand. Beside him, she huffed every few minutes. He resisted the urge to ask her to excuse herself if she were so bored. Suddenly, a wet 'splash' fell to his lap, dampening his breeches.

"Oops..." Fluttered the Princess, who covered her mouth in surprise. "That was an accident, I assure you." Though Gwayne could care less if it was genuine or not, he was already scooting his chair out and storming out of the council room. Shocked faces around the table landed on Beckae, who at least had the gaul to look embarrassed. Rhaenyra raised a brow at her daughter, nodding her chin toward the door shortly.

The Princess swiftly followed after her husband, not truly caring for his embarrassment but moreso glad to be given an excuse for leaving the room. If she had known putting her mother on the Iron Throne would have been so dreadfully boring, she would've taken her dragon to Pentos and lived out her days as an old maid.

Gwayne reached his private chambers first, long legs able to carry him so much faster. He took off his trousers and small clothes, left with his bottom half bare to the world. Beckae followed after him, gasping and turning around at the sight before her. Shit, she thought. Perhaps she should've waited at his doors.

"Here to empty your goblet entirely? Go ahead, I'm used to it." He sneered, rolling his eyes at her sudden bashfulness. It would not be the first time she witnessed such a thing. For modesty's sake, he slipped on a fresh pair of linens.

"I am merely here to apologize, husband. Not patronize." She mumbled, face hot.

"Hm." He stepped forward, taking her chin in his hand and forcing her to look up at him. "Where was this attitude when you were chasing after me on your dragon? I think your true colors much suit you, wife."

She grit her teeth, annoyed at his haughty behavior. "It was war. If I hadn't been on my dragon and your party happened upon me, I'd have been killed by Criston Cole without remorse."

"I wouldn't have allowed that to happen." He insisted confidently.

She snorted, "when had that man ever listened to you? He hardly heeded the usurper's orders when he was alive."

"Do you think I would have let you die, especially such a dishonorable death?" Gwayne questioned, squeezing her cheeks harder.

She grimaced, "we were not wed, then. Barely acquainted, to add."

He looked disappointed at her snarky reply. "I may not hold much affection for you, wife, but I have always shown myself to be an honorable man, have I not?" When she didn't respond, he continued. "I would say we were not acquaintances, either. Were we acquainted when I bestowed upon your head the crown of The Queen of Love and Beauty at your nameday tourney?"

"That's different. You had to name me that. It is the expectation of a tourney winner to name the celebration's main subject with that title." She said.

"I could've named someone else, even so. Was our little tryst that night meaningless?"

"You cannot use that against me, Gwayne. It is shameful enough that I allowed myself to do such a dishonest thing." She grabbed his wrist lightly, urging it away from its grip. He listened, moving it to a more gentle caresse at the base of her neck, tangled in her hair.

"I do not regret it." He said, softly. "Nor do I regret the night we spent together after the dinner with our families."

"Gwayne," she pleaded, avoiding his intense gaze. While their marriage was yet to be officially consumated, she was far from a maiden. He was to thank for that, of course. How ironic that they ended up married only after they begun to resent each other.

Gwayne resented his entrapment here. She resented his family and his actions during the war.

"What, Princess? I only speak the truth and you know it. Do you regret it?"

She remained silent, hands placed on his chest as if to ground herself.

Gwayne took that as his answer. "We do not have to live this way. We could leave—return to my home in Old Town. You can have your privacy, do whatever you please whenever you'd like. I beg you, it is torturous here for me, and I know you share that sentiment. I will not ask for heirs, I have my brother for that. You can take a lover, a paramour of your choice." He promised her, grabbing her hands and bringing them together. On his knees, he looked the proper image of a knight, kneeling like such. To beg for his Lady to do him this one favor, to release him from court.

"I do not want a lover." She said lowly. "I want for you."

His eyes widened, then his brows furrowed together in bemusement. "You have taken it upon yourself to belittle me publically every day, do you expect me to now believe that you do not resent me?" He scoffed bitterly.

The Princess looked away from him, unknowing of how to phrase her next words. "That is true, I will admit to my teasings–"

"I would hardly call them teasings." He cut in.

She glared at him, continuing. "–or torments, perhaps. No one truly enjoys court, it is both of us who are trapped her together. If I hadn't been forced to marry you, we would have both been free to live where we wished."

"Your mother is Queen, if you only ask she will provide."

"You overestimate my influence, Gwayne. She wants your advisory in council–for Gods know what–and she knows you being married to me keeps you loyal to her."

"Then I will stop being useful. I will be the worst advisor that council has ever seen." His face lit uo in a smirk, as if we were a profound genius.

"Do you not think she will see through this rouse."

"You will be my aid, dear Lady. You need only continue your extremely rude and annoying actions, only louder and more aggressive, so that they will have no choice but to kick you out from future meetings. In addition, my uselessness will send me with you out of the Keep to be rid of us both. If we hate each other in their eyes, they will not suspect that we are working together." He explains.

She carefully thinks it over. True, they would not want wither of them uselessly loitering around the Keep after they were kicked out of the council. She nodded firmly, agreeing to his plan. If all things went to shit and they were discovered to be playing a rouse, the only consequence would be a scolding. What was stopping them?

🏰

Gwayne and Beckae went through their little routine for weeks. The Princess rudely commenting on the entire council's opinions now, not just Gwayne's. Not rude enough to be kicked out immediately, but for irritated glares to be regularly shot at her. If looks could kill, Beckae would have been buried long ago. Gwayne, for his part, entirely stopped giving his opinions. If asked, he exaggeratedly thought for a long time before giving false information.

The weeks passed with many stressed advisors going through the boring meetings with many complaints to the Queen and her Hand. With Gwayne and his wife, however, they started to bond over their mischiefs. Late at night, after their duties were done, the two shared laughter and pleasent conversation over their cups.

When Rhaenyra pulled the married couple aside one morning, before the meeting started, Gwayne and Beckae felt giddy with anticipation.

"You two...I have been thinking for a while now. I think it is time you retired from court and traveled back to Old Town, to raise your children and take care of your House directly from it." The Queen avoided her true reasoning, skirting politely around the Hightower man.

They both nodded solemnly, agreeing with her choice. "We will miss the Keep, Mother. I expect next time I visit, you will perhaps be blessed with a grandchild." Beckae said, hugging her mother, who looked relieved.

Gwayne's brows raised at her words but agreed with them in front of the Queen. Soon, she left the married couple alone.

They shared a loud laugh together, holding each other at their small win. "Free at last!" The Princess cheered, earning a hearty chuckle from her husband.

"Indeed, wife. What were you saying, blessed with a grandchild? Are you so eager to be bed in your new home?" He asked teasingly.

She felt her face grow unrelentingly hot, scoffing. "I was only appeasing her." She said.

Gwayne hummed disbelievingly, nodding along. "I'm sure you were, wife."

At her gawking defenses, he only laughed and walked to his chambers to pack.

🏰

After a sickening three months on the road to Old Town, Beckae and Gwayne were more than ready to sleep on cushioned beds.

So ready, in fact, that they didn't bother to split into separate chambers. Both in Gwayne's chambers, the Princess and Gwayne relaxed in his spacious bed.

"I can not tell you how much I missed a proper bed." She sighed loudly, groaning in pleasure at the comfort. He did the same, humming his own praise.

Well into the night, the two merely talked and sipped on cups of sweet wine. In only their night shifts, Beckae could clearly spot a ring shining on his chest. She grabbed it, pulling it towards her slightly, fingerd brushing over his bare chest and earning a shiver from him. He leaned in with the ring, the chain pulling him by the neck.

"I did not notice this. I had thought you threw your wedding ring away the second you left the feast." She said softly, smiling at the sight of his matching ring.

"Of course not. I am not so cruel." He said, grabbing her own ring-adorned hand and gently placing a kiss on top of the ring. She giggled at the ticklish feeling, earning a smirk from Gwayne. He smirked, continuing to place feathery kisses up her arm, to her shoulder, then neck. The sensitive skin being so softly kissed made her shiver in turn, sighing pleasently. He paused before reaching her lips, grabbing her chin softly in his hand. Silently he asked for her approval.

Nodding, she was immediately drowned in a hot kiss, his tongue invading her mouth as she moaned. She moved her hands to his red hair, tugging at it. He moved her onto her back, hands squeezing her waist playfully. They pulled apart, lips swollen and panting.

The ring hung down to her own chest as he leaned over her. She twirled the ring in her finger, pleased at the sight of it. He was hers, and she was his. Entirely. She brought him down in a kiss again, pulling his chest to her own and adoring the heat that he brought with him.

That night, they comsumated their marriage in a way that no one could deny, every servant in the Tower being able to hear their Lord and Lady making heirs.

🏰

#gwayne hightower x reader #gwayne hightower #gwayne x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd

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thegoldencontracts · 9 months ago

Text

Surprise

Summary: You're bored. What better way to pass the time than surprise-kissing your boyfriend?

Characters: Azul, Jade

Notes: Flustered Jade and Azul aghhh

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul was startled from his paperwork by the sensation of your lips brushing against his cheek. He loathed to admit the way he practically leapt up from his seat, scrambling to turn to meet your gaze.

"W-What was that?" He asked, desperately attempting to fan away the flush of his cheeks. You smirked.

"I was bored," you said. "Is that not reason enough?"

To tease him like this? Certainly not.

Azul turned away from you with a huff.

"Please refrain- refrain from such... Improper behavior, in the future," he said. That was a terrible mistake.

Your grin widened, somehow.

"Oh?" You said, tilting your head in amusement. "You don't like this?"

The ticklish feeling of your hand on his side made him squirm, but not quite as much as your words.

Azul sighed. He didn't have the time not bandwidth to cower like some child at the mere sight of your smirk. You could find someone else to indulge you.

"I'm busy, dearest," he said, meeting your gaze for a moment before turning back to his paperwork.

"You suuuuure?" You asked.

Azul merely rolled his eyes.

"Yes, yes, I'm certain," he said. A pause.

"Okay, then!" You said. "I'll leave you be!"

Azul's eyes widened. You were- leaving him be? Just like that?

Well, wasn't that- Just lovely?

He felt his leg bouncing antsily as he continued his paperwork. He concentrated, yes, got some work done-

For a grand total of five minutes. Then, he turned to you with a pout.

"Huh?" You said, playing dumb. You knew what he wanted. "Did I do something, Azul?"

Azul pouted.

"Y-You're well-aware," he said, desperately attempting to retain eye contact. You laughed.

"No, no," you said. "Tell me: do you need something?"

Azul glared at you. You just laughed, entirely undeterred.

After a few seconds, he sighed. Clearly, he'd have to be honest.

"I- don't suppose a break from my work would hurt," he said, barely able to retain his composure.

A pause. Then, the feeling of your lips against his cheek.

Again? You-

"Great!" You said, giggling at the way his cheeks flushed. "Let's go, Azul!"

He huffed.

"Insolent cretin."

You just laughed.

"Love you too, Azul."

Jade Leech

"So, the spores require careful-"

Jade was cut off from his highly informational speech by the feeling of your lips against his cheek.

So that was what you wanted. How amusing.

"Hmm?" He said, tilting his head in faux-confusion. "Did you need anything?"

You laughed.

"I was bored!" You said. "And isn't this a nice way to pass the time?"

He'd said it quite a few times already, but this really was dreadfully amusing. You really didn't know what you were getting yourself into, were you?

"Really, now?" He asked. "Well then, be careful what you wish fo-"

The sensation of your lips cut him off once more. His eyes widened for a split second as he processed what you'd just done.

Curses, he'd lost his composure once more. You just stood there, flashing him an impish grin.

"You always are so adept at catching me off-guard," he said with a laugh.

You merely shot him a deadpan look.

"Your face is red, Jade." You said. "Like, really red."

Of course you'd noticed.

"Apologies," he said. "I- forgot my sunscreen, you see, and I'm an individual who tans rather easily. I truly am embarrassed at my failure to remember to care for my skin."

"Right," you said. "Totally believe you."

"Good."

"So," you said. "You won't mind if I do it again?"

Jade cursed himself. You'd called his bluff. Why hadn't he anticipated this? Really, he should've prepared himself!

"I'll take that as a 'no', then," you said, pressing yet another kiss, this time dangerously close to his lips.

W-What was that? Why exactly were you being so affectionate all of a sudden?

The fluttering sound of a phone camera instantly snapped Jade back to his senses.

"Heh, sorry," you said, not looking too apologetic. Jade grinned. You'd just gone a step too far.

"Oh?" He said, holding your hand with a smirk. "You've just collected blackmail of me?"

You gulped.

"How rude," he continued, bringing his own lips up to yours. Unlike you, he had no hesitation in going in for a proper kiss. So you were shy in your own ways. How amusing.

And as you stood there, dazed, he brought up his own phone to your face, taking a picture.

"W-Wha-?"

"Well then," he said- more cooed. "I do believe that makes us even."

#Azul Ashengrotto #Jade Leech #twst #twst fanfic #azul ashengrotto x reader #jade leech x reader #azul ashengrotto x you #jade leech x you #disney twisted wonderland #fluff #fanfiction

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sparks-and-smoke · 2 months ago

Text

Chapter 2: Unknown Faces (rewritten)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader (refered to as Petal) Word Count: 3240 Summary: After your run in at the museum the two of you start having interesting dreams. This is a soulmate AU, just so we are all aware. Warnings/tropes: smut, oral (male receiving), grief, loss, angst, mental health, conspiracy theories, stalking if you squint. Submissive Steve which is a TW all to himself. Soulmate AU. A/N: I had some things I wanted to add, so enjoy my attempt #2. the next chapter will finally be new. Also, my first attempt at smut. Give me some grace. Beta read by the ever lovely. @voice-of-velhart

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Nothing was worse than a muggy day in Brooklyn. And today was the hottest day of that August. In a time before the modern marvel of climate control with little more then an electric fan to move the stagnant air around the room. It felt like they were drowning, and they were both attempting to push that simple fact to the back of their minds.

Steve sat in their bed with his sketch book in his lap, trying to capture the pigeons that sat on the roof of the building across the alley. If for nothing else then for distraction. Since the record Petal had put on wasn't doing the trick. Besides, he really needed to work on adding motion in his drawings so drawing birds in flight seemed like a good way to spend his time.

Petal lay across the foot of the bed. Trying to read the novel Honey lent her, but kept sighing from the heat, such a dramatic little thing. Neither one of them was wearing much of anything, Petal in just a slip and Steve in an undershirt and boxers. It was too damn hot to wear anything else. And every time Petal would sigh and roll to try and get comfortable her slip would ride up. It was the most distracting thing in the damn world.

“Hey Pet. Can you stop? You’re driving me up the wall babydoll.” He shook his head watching her wiggle again.

“It’s hot and the fan isn’t helping.” she whined with a pout. She didn’t have any makeup on. And her smooth delicate skin was glistening in the heat in a way that made Steve’s skin feel too tight. He shifted uncomfortably, adjusting the book in his lap.

“I wish I could fix the weather for you, Pet. Believe me I’m not exactly having a gas over here.”

A few moments pass in comfortable silence, with only Sterling Young and the scratch of his pencil to fill the silence. Petal trying to concentrate on her damn book but who could she when her favorite pass time was lounging on the other side of their bed. She glanced over at Steve. His brows knit together in concentration as he glanced back up at the birds. He really was so beautiful, the light from the window bathed him in golden glow, highlighting the sharp angles and lithe musculature of his body. He reminded her of Puck, or some other form of eternally youthful fae creature. Built to tempt her with his wiry frame and beautiful eyes. And she couldn’t help it, her man was too pretty. She needed to touch him.

Setting her book down she crawled up the bed. Her hand sliding up his legs. “Stevie, I am dreadfully bored…”

Steve bit his lip and tried to focus on getting his shading right, “I’m sorry Pet.” he said offhandedly. Only to hear her sigh, then the gentle press of lips to his hip bone. And a soft hand pushing up his shirt. The pad of her fingers tracing along the lithe lines of his frame. “Petal…” he warned, with no real heat behind the words. "I need to get this done."

“Steven...” she mocks, her voice quiet and airy as her mouth followed her hands. Up, up. Peppering kisses over his rib cage, tongue flickering to the spaces between where she could feel his breath mounting. He sighed through his nose, eyes falling shut as she claimed his full attention.

He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment enjoying the way her fingertip slid over his skin with gentle reverence. His hand slipped into her curls, grateful for a lack of pins and ribbons as he tugged her head back, looking down into her eyes glittering with mischief. She took her bottom lip between her teeth, the pink cushion of her mouth growing red under the bite and he groaned. Tugging her up to taste that lip himself.

'Your gonna be my ruin.”

Petal hummed sliding down along his jaw, lips finding his pulse and sucking on it. His heart picking up in response, like it was answering her call. “Oh hush… I don't think you'll be complaining in a moment."

Steve stared up at the ceiling as if it may give him an ounce of willpower. He found none, instead he found his hands sliding under the nylon of her slip. His breath shuttered as he felt all that soft perfect skin under his palms, his hand flatting agaist the curves of her body that he had long since memorized.

Most days he still couldn’t believe that she was his. That he was the man that had the privilege of holding her hand and keeping her warm at night. Let alone be the person that gets to sink into her body, his name tumbling from her lips when she finds the pleasure she so desperately deserves. Surely letting this goddess house the other half of his soul had been a comic mistake, but the red ink on her collarbone said otherwise. Marked her as this from birth just waiting to claim and be claimed. A piece of himself held apart by flesh and bone that would always seek out his companionship and love. Constantly rumbling back together like pieces of a puzzle, perfectly aligned and made to fit.

He ran the pad of his finger over the letters. S.G.R. Scrawled in a artistic script in blood red ink that mark her as his soulmate. As his birthright. And he thanked god with every breath that she had found him when he hadn't even been trying to look.

“Hmm, no definitely my ruin, my downfall…” he whispers, pulling her slip up over her hips, his hands kneading at the supple flesh he finds with every inch. “I never said I wouldn't accept it."

She smiles, humming in appreciation as he gives in despite the heat, despite being busy. He is always weak to her advances, pretty putty in her hands. And she let him pull the offending garment over her head. Revealing nothing underneath but shimmering skin.

“Good boy,” she whispers and pushes him down. Hands tugging at his shirt to get it off, sliding between his legs to pull off his boxers that are doing nothing to hide how much he loves her attention. “Always so eager, my sweet perfect man…”

He preens under the praise, trying not to squirm when her breath ghosts over his cock. Steve knows he is none of those things save for eager. But being under her hands, her breath on his skin and sweet voice in his ears it’s the closest he has ever felt to perfection. He can deny her nothing. “Pet.. babydoll I..”

“Is it too warm cause I can-”

“No.” he bucks his hips. He didn't give a damn how warm it was, he needed her too much now. The temperature of the air was nothing compared to the heat in his veins and it flowed southward and away from his brain. “No please.”

He hears her giggle and he can’t help but flush at the way his cock twitches in response to the sound. She had him so fully, and he would give her anything, accept whatever she gave just to be with her like this again and again.

“Yeah I thought so.” She smirks and dips her head down to kiss at his tip, hand messaging over his balls making him groan. His thighs tense as he watches her with a heavy gaze.

Steve can hear the triumph in her voice as she kisses at the base of him, sending electricity down his thighs. She knows she has him so totally wrapped around her finger. All it took was a few littered kisses and he was willing to drop everything. It was always like this with them. From the first moment, he had been willing to walk through fire just to hear her say thank you…

He had never been good at holding still. Not even when told to, and with her mouth so close to him, his body already pent up in the summer air he can’t help the groan and roll of his hips as she plays with him. She grins, a rush of power rolling through her as he shows his first signs of desperation. He always makes her feel this way. Like she is offering him everything and it's all he can do not to thank her for the chance.

“You keep moving like that and I'm gonna have to hold you down. Maybe I'll just sit on you and make you ask for it politely.” she threatens, a flat warm tongue darting out to lick a hot stripe up the bottom of his length. He gasps, hands twisting into the sheets as she teases him. Face twisting in frustration as he wills his lips not to moan, his voice not to beg.

“Whatever you want, Pet.”

“That's what I like to hear, always so good for me Stevie." she grabs his base giving him a slow stroke, precum pooling on her thumb as she drags it over his tip. Looking up at him through heavy lashes as she sucks the shining slick off her thumb with a hum. Steve’s stomach does a flip, as the air is pushed from his lungs. And he stifles a whimper with a bobbing throat. He knows she can tell how bad he wants this. Needs it now that it's been offered. And he will appease his gorgeous girl however she wants to get her to continue. To bring him the bliss he knows that sugar coated mouth is offering.

“Tell me what you want, baby.”

Steve sucks air through his teeth, one slender hand flying into the silken strains of her hair wrapping the locks around his fingers as words tumble forth. “I want that luscious mouth on my cock Petal, please. I need that soft heat on me baby. You always look so good down there. You make me feel so good, Pet…”

She smiled, eyes sparkling with delight. “Well since you asked so sweetly…” Her mouth sunk onto him and the sigh of relief he made had her humming as she relaxed her throat and pushed him deeper.

“Oh f-fuck Pet I...” he gasped as his hips itched to move. But her soft persistent hands held him in place. Her tongue swirling around his tip as she pulled off, only to suck him back in with hollow cheeks. “Oh baby.. Yes yes please just like that.”

Her hands wander. Pulling him closer to her as his back arches. Flat palms sliding over his hips and spine to hold him close to her. He really was so pretty. Graceful in a way she has never seen in a bigger man, and she adores him. Loves the way he can’t hold still, can't stay quiet, his deep voice telling her how much he loves this. Loves her, with every stroke of her mouth. Every hum of approval from her vibrates through him and takes him higher.

She gets lost in it, holding her lover to her as she pulled him into her till her nose brushed the bronze curls at his base, “Pet… Petal I’m gonna, baby p-please. I’m gonna. I’m gonna, can I…”

You opened your eyes with a groan, pulling the covers over your head as you woke up before your alarm yet again. This was the third time this week. And just when your dream was getting good.

You don’t know when you started dreaming about that man. The one with the soft sky blue eyes and crooked smile. You’ve never seen that face before, at least not to your knowledge but it haunted your dreams as of late.

You have read somewhere that the mind can’t make up faces on its own. That's why you always dream about people you know, or celebrities and public figures. Even the unknown faces you see in your dreams are people you’ve rode the train with or passed by at a supermarket. So you must have seen your mystery man at least once in passing but you swear you would have remembered eyes like that. A voice that is deep and smooth…

With a groan in frustration your thighs tingle again. The pressure in your gut surmounting in an uncomfortable feeling you were going to need to fix before going to work. With a sigh you roll over and rifle through your bedside table. Finding your favorite toy and turning it on before closing your eyes and letting yourself finish that little scene.

Steve almost threw his alarm across the god damn room. A frustrated snarl ripping out of his chest. Painfully hard with an ache in his bones that bordered on pain he pressed his palms to his eyes. Hot wet tears leaked out beneath his hands and into his hairline as he forced out a shaky breath. He couldn't keep living like this, couldn’t function knowing she was in this fucking city and not there beside him. Warming his bed and breathing his air. Her sweet voice asking if he was OK, holding him like he knew she would if only she was here…

In the privacy of the darkness he let a sob slip. Wrecking through his chest with a violent shake. He needed her back. His body ached to hold his girl, his soul rebelled at the absence of her. His heart had felt like it was beating against the confines of his body every second since he had left the museum yesterday. Like it could somehow by sheer force make him go and find her. As if he was staying away on purpose. Instead of trying to be smart and staying away and not acting like a total obsessed creep.

Which he would be. If he had followed his instincts and followed her home. Found her address. Found her work. Hit his knees and begged the universe to fix whatever had broken them.

He could never. And knowing she was so close yet so, so far away made him want to burn down everything in his path till he figured out what had caused this and how to fix it. How did she not remember the man who had worshiped the ground she walked on. The man who would move the heavens for her if only he was able. He loved her. He still loves her and the way he cried like a child was only a testimony to that.

He pushed open his half of their bond. The highway that connected him to Petal, trying yet again to let her hear him. I miss you, Please, I know you are there. Baby, I can't do this alone. He launched the plea down the empty connection like it may do some good. Might bring her back to him but he knew it was in vain. There was nothing on the other end. Or at least nothing that was open to him anyway. Like the door was locked and barred just to leave him isolated on the other side.

If he could he would slam his hands against that parabolic door, pound against it until his hands bled. Make her feel him. Call out to her, beg her to find him. Plead and grovel. But that was not an option at the moment, and even if it was it would scare her. And that is the one thing Steve, even in his desperation, couldn’t bring himself to do. Scare his girl? He’d rather die.

"Listen, I've heard a lot of crazy things in this job. But, the girl I saw at a glance in the Smithsonian is my long lost soulmate from 1945 is a new one." Nat quipped. Giving him a look like he might actually be going crazy. Which he was, technically. He felt down right insane but he knew he was right. "Are you getting dementia gramps."

"Nat." His voice was flat, broking no argument. "I know it sounds ridiculous but I know Petal. It was her. Just help me out here. Look her up. I know you can."

Nat's job was to know things. Shoot people and know things, it was like half her job description. And Steve was not taking no for an answer. If anyone could help him find her again. Figure out what the hell was going on it was Romanoff.

"What makes you think I can find her. Hmm? No one has been able to find her for decades. And believe me people have looked…"

"I know people have looked!" He all but snapped at her. His hands slamming on the desktop. He had too much energy in him. Too much anxiety buzzing through his body like live wire. "I have looked. Exhausted every asset at my disposal. But she was there Natasha. She was in that museum and I need to know how."

Nat stared to Steve's steely eyes. His gaze as intense, if not more so than she had seen him on any mission. He was practically vibrating with tension as he leaned over her. "This really means that much to you."

"Wouldn't it to you."

Nat sighed. She wouldn't know. She didn't have a soul mark. Part of the 40% of the population that didn't have a soulmate. Whole souls, they were called in passing. People who were complete on their own. Some people considered it a blessing, others a curse. But it had been one of the requirements to be in the red room. No soulmates meant no ties. No one you could hold more important then mission or country. And looking at Roger's right now she could understand why.

He looked as if he was ready to go on a warpath. Wage a siege just to get this girls name, her address, Hell, her shoe size. Anything that proved she was real. That could lead him back to her.

She sighed and turned to her console, pulling up surveillance footage from the museum. "When were you there?"

"Last Thursday, 1100 hours." He rattled off, as if it was the easiest information in the world. Nat raised a brow but filed through the camera and pulled up the footage of the letter display. There was Steve, looking pissed as all get out. Nat's eyes scanned the crowd. Landing on the three girls to Steve's left.

"The redhead or the tall one?" She asked.

"Neither. Her. In the middle." Steve pointed at you. Your back turned to the camera.

Nat scrolled ahead until she could get a somewhat clear image of the girls face. "Oh she's cute."

Steve huffed. They weren't here to check out his wife. "Yes she is, stay focused.

"Touchy." Nat put the imagine in sheild's data base and cross referenced it with faces they had flagged. Nothing. So she tried a more general search. A ping this time. Leaning forward she scanned the info. Her brows furrowing.

"This can't be right."

Steve head snapped up. Rounding the desk to read over her shoulder. There was your name, your maiden name and birth date though the year was wrong, but your SSN was the same. He started to scan your info and instantly say what she was refusing too. "How has shield not flagged this…"

None of your info added up. At first glance you would think you were a petty criminal or a scammer. Or an undercover agent with a shitty identity forger. Because your social was clearly from the 1920s, Ans you had no school records, no criminal history passed a speeding ticket in March of 2011. But you had an up to date license. And a small apartment in the east end and a job at the VA… how did you even get hired with no birth certificate?

"Can you print this off for me?" Nat gave him a look that said she thought that was a bad idea. But did it anyway.

"What are you planning Cap?"

Steve took out the page as soon as it was out of the machine. Still hot in his hand. "Gonna go get my girl."

Tag List: @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers, @delilah-hey @tldrthor @littlestxli You don't have to read obviously, just wanna make sure you're tagged in the up to date versions. <3

#steve rogers #ce characters #steve rogers x reader #plus size reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x plus size reader #smut #fate stone #victory garden #sparks writes

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zonigiri · 2 years ago

Text

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎'𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓

pairing: gojo x f!reader

summary: inspired by this post by @gojoest and tags/addition by @kagelun. i have nothing to say for myself (sorry)

wc: 1.2k

cw: fluff, gojo being gojo & divider credits to @saradika!

a/n: wrote the outline for this fic in my 20mins break at work and finished it mostly on bus rides to and from work. felt like i needed that to be mentioned somewhere

"I hate when you do that," Gojo whined from his place on the bed, lying with his limbs spread out. He had a habit of making the queen sized bed look like a single whenever he was even partially horizontal on it.

"Do what?" you ask absentmindedly, in the middle of putting your clothes back on.

"That."

"Toru we've been over this, I'm not moving in with you. Living with you would drive me actually insane."

You're facing away but you can feel his pout deepen. You hear the tell tale sounds of the bed squeaking and you know the menace you call your boyfriend, is making his way over to you with an impassioned defense. He might as well have flashcards with him and sometimes you wonder how if he wasn't a man-child with such ridiculous hills to die on, or the strongest sorcerer in this world, in an alternate universe he would've made a decent lawyer.

"That's not what I was talking about but now that you've brought it up, I can think of at least 5 reasons why-"

"Gojo," you turn to face him with a pointed stare. He withers under your gaze and your use of his formal name and you go back trying to get the clasps of your bra to get to stick to the intended hooks, instead of the one above or the one below. After a few moments of fiddling, you give up fighting a losing battle.

"Can you do my clasps?"

You look over your shoulder at Gojo, glance at your hands and look back at him expectantly. He shifts to stand behind you, fingers gentle and unsure as you feel them on your back. You let go of the straps in your hand and wait patiently.

"This is what I meant, you know."

You tilt your head to the side a little and because over months Gojo has learned to read your little gestures like a book, he knows that despite your silence that's a sign for him to continue. Not that he ever needed one anyway.

"Why do you need to wear when you have all the support you need right here?"

Gojo cups your breasts with his large hands. You lightly smack his hands with yours but all that makes him do is give them a little squeeze.

"Look at how much better I am at this! I can hold them exactly the way you want them to!"

Like a child at a science fair demonstrating his beloved project, Gojo proceeds to squeeze your breasts closer together along with his words. You let out a sigh and a little shake of your head, and you decide to humour him to try and beat him at his game.

"...plus my hands are so much warmer! And they're definitely more comfortable than some of these godawful ones."

He glares dirtily at your open lingerie drawer.

"That's not what you called them when I wore them for you last Friday."

"You're not playing fair," he mumbles into your neck.

You give it some time, basking momentarily in the warmth of Gojo's body so close to yours, before you place your hands over the ones covering your breasts and kiss his fingertips.

"Toru, I'm going to miss my bus, will you please do my clasps?"

"Hai," he says in a drained monotone like a school child being asked to do something dreadfully boring.

Satoru keeps his word this time and you hear the little click of the hooks attaching in place. Tugging your bra to make yourself comfortable, you turn around in his arms to place a sweet kiss on Gojo's lips, "Thank you baby."

Leaving him standing, you walk over to pick up your jumper and you quickly slip into it. While pulling up your jeans you noticed Gojo's attention had shifted and he was now inspecting the contents of your drawer. Picking up the straps of cloth and lace and trying to figure them out with the face of someone trying to solve a nuclear equation with utmost concentration.

You don't have to wait for long to know what he's thinking, you hardly do. Gojo never shies away from voicing his opinions. All of them, no matter how inane or inappropriate.

"You know, I think I'd be better at designing these."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah! I mean you keep saying the wire hurts and…" you hear bits and pieces of what he says , his voice full of robust conviction while you finish getting ready. In the meantime, Gojo appears to have taken a serious interest in the construction of female lingerie. You didn't have the heart to explain the intricacies of women's fashion and how since ages, pain and discomfort was woven into the very fabric and principle. Not right now anyway, while you were already running late for a bus with a temperamental schedule and a history of not following it. You looked into the mirror for a last quick check to make sure everything was in place and you walked over to your boyfriend, still somewhat lost in thought. You took his face between your hands, squished him gently and kissed him after letting go.

"Bye baby, love you!"

As always Gojo's lips stay on yours for a little longer, even after you pull away. Ending kisses is not something Gojo excels at, especially not when they're with you. He pulls away reluctantly and with that, you're gone. The door behind you shuts with a little click and Gojo's left to his own devices for the day.

Later that night you're cuddled in bed with him, his limbs wrapped around you like a blanket, the only way he knows how. Gojo's voice pipes up in the dark, "You know, I think I've figured out how to make it work."

"Hm?"

"How to make the bras work without hurting. I even came up with designs, I think you'd like them."

There's silence, but he knows you're awake and you're listening. He knows the rhythm of the way your chest rises and falls when you're asleep in his arms.

"I even came up with the name of the company."

You shuffle a little in his hold to turn to face him. Even when lying down, his face is a whole head above yours.

"Yeah? What is it?"

"Gojo's secret."

It takes a while for it to sink in and then your laughter rings out in the dead of the night. A genuine, hearty outburst at his very earnest response. It gets you an offended, "Hey! It's a good name! I mean I might run into copyright issues but I…" and Gojo pulls you closer to him in efforts to get you to listen to him seriously but you don't hear the rest of it very clearly over the sound of your own laugh. With every next word that comes out of his mouth you collapse into a fresh fit of giggles and Gojo complains that you're not listening to his flawless 7-step-plan to take over the whole industry that he spent all day thinking up. Pouty that you're not taking him seriously, despite the fact that you almost never do, Gojo untangles you (gently) from his grasp and turns around to face the other way.

" 'm not talking to you."

You're used to his antics by now so you turn to spoon him, throwing your leg over his with abandon and slipping your hand over his chest. You hear a little "hmph" uttered under his breath without any real malice but all it does is make you squeeze him a little tighter (lovingly).

"Goodnight Toru, love you."

You press a kiss to his shoulder and shuffle in closer to him to make yourself comfortable to go to sleep. The next morning when you wake up, and you wake up earlier than Gojo does, you realize the two of you are in exactly the opposite position from when you went to bed. You're curled up against Gojo, back to his chest, and one of his hands has somehow made its way through the night to loosely cup your left breast in his large hand.

#gojo fluff #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x yn #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x fluff #gojo satoru x yn #gojo satoru fluff #t.writes #jjk x yn #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you

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ghost-proofbaby · 2 years ago

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“IT’S BEEN A LONG TIME, AND SEEING THE SHAPE OF YOUR NAME STILL SPELLS OUT PAIN.”

summary: two years after walking away from eddie munson, the memory of him continues to haunt you.

warnings: strong language, angst, alcohol consumption, minors dni

wc: 5.1k+

a/n: this will make a whole lot more sense if you've already read the one shot that this entire series is based upon! and thank you to @fracturedarkness and @munson-blurbs for beta-reading <3

☆ prev chapter | masterlist | next chapter ☆

It had taken nearly two hours, and even as the aerial platform is finally lowered from scaling the side of the building, there are still remnants of the graffiti paint scattered across the crumbling brick.

You’d watched the workers scrub at the rusted shades for ages, ignoring the new emails beginning to pile up in your inbox on the screen, only to be left completely dissatisfied. You hadn’t really thought the graffiti was ugly so to speak – it was just there. It was blatant and something that demanded to be seen, a stain on that stretch of wall that made up your desk’s entire viewpoint each and every day. And it wasn’t ugly, but it wasn’t pretty.

You’d even been a little excited when you saw the cleaning crew. A little hopeful.

But the hope had been wasted, as it always was, as you watch the crew give up the battle and the paint win the war. Go figure. Another day and another stain that can’t be erased.

“You know, I’ve heard of dreadfully boring people watching paint dry, but never seen someone look so enticed by paint being removed.”

You look up quickly from where your dead stare had zeroed in, a chipping splash of vibrant scarlet that hardly stood out against tired and faded red-turned-pink bricks, to face your coworker.

“Ha-ha,” you deadpan, spinning your office chair so your entire body now faced her, “Have you ever considered a career change, Romina? Maybe you’re better off a comedian rather than an event planner.”

Romina, your coworker, only smiles brightly at the monotone joke. She holds a mug of coffee in her hand as she rests her hip against the edge of your desk, lips pursed as she takes a slow sip from her steaming cup. The sharp, bitter scent of the coffee wafts across the space before she lowers the mug right onto your desk – completely disregarding the coaster available.

Sure to leave behind a stain; a ring of light brown on your pristine desk. You can’t help but cringe.

“Apparently they sent out an email about that new secretive project,” Romina continues on without addressing your sarcasm, “Said whoever’s got the account has been notified.”

“Awesome.”

“I didn’t get an email.”

“I’m sorry?”

Romina sighs, realizing you weren’t going to take the bait. “Have you received an email?”

You shrug in a silent succession of, probably not.

Your pessimism keeps your hand from reaching out and wiggling your mouse as an attempt to wake your desktop computer back up. You highly doubt you were the one to be elected for this new project that had the entire office buzzing. You’d only been working here for a little over a year, hardly earning any attention with the small weddings and local business grand openings you had taken on during that time.

And that was fine.

You were fine flying under the radar for the time being. It’s not that you weren’t good at your job — you were excellent at it, even — but whatever this top secret project was was the farthest thing from your expertise.

You didn’t do secretive projects. You did simple. You did small. The exact opposite of what you’d heard about this elusive opportunity.

“Have you even checked?” Romina presses, leaning down and tapping your space bar herself, making the screen come to life before you could protest, “C’mon, babe! Aren’t you at least a little bit curious?”

Another honest shrug. “Truthfully? Not at all.”

She makes no move to grab her coffee cup as she pushes herself off your desk, standing over the screen now with intent and focus. All you can really think about is that damn faded ring that’s going to be left behind.

You really wish she would have used the coaster.

The login screen stops her in her mission, making her take a step back and wave you forward, pointing excitedly at your keyboard, “You know, I heard it might have something to do with a very popular band. One rumored to be dropping an album soon. Possibly the album release party. Doesn’t that sound dreamy?”

Your stomach drops.

Romina is all wistful sighs and dreamy eyes as she says it, still pushing that keyboard closer to you as she looks out the window you had been before her arrival. It’s clear she’s looking right past that stained wall. She probably doesn’t even notice the evidence of graffiti that was left behind. The marks are lost on her eyes; but she hadn’t spent hours waiting for it to all be cleaned away, to be fair. No, it’s clear the only thing on her mind is this popular band.

And you know which band it is. It’s not just the prospect of a larger project that has kept you out of this rumor mill — it’s the prospect of the client.

Everyone knew you didn’t care for the band. Or at least, you said you didn’t care for the band.

Nearly a year ago, several coworkers had invited you to a sold out show. They had an extra ticket, and had so kindly extended it to you. A flag of friendship billowing in the wind, outstretched to you in such a welcoming manner. And you’d shot them down — you’d lied, and you’d said you had plans before you’d spent the entire night throwing your own personal pity party.

“I don’t think I’d be the first choice for an album release party, Ro,” you murmur as you finally tug your chair in closer to your desk. You ignore the knots forming in your stomach, that heavy weight that presses into your chest. There was no way you’d be assigned the project. You’d simply log in, show Romina, and then maybe she’d leave you alone, “I usually just take on weddings. That’s my forte. Not arranging open bars and booking rooftops for some shitty band.”

Romina scoffs, “Some shitty band? I know you don’t like them, but Corroded Coffin is not just some shitty band.”

Corroded Coffin. The weight makes your ribs creak, makes your lungs ache.

You swear she’ll notice the way you freeze in your typing. The mere mention of them, of him, curls around your body and easily triggers your fight or flight response.

Well, fight or flight or freeze. A new option, a new and drifting cold, has made itself clear as ice keeps your knuckles from continuing to type in your password.

It’s funny. You used to fight for them, then you’d flown as far away from him as your pathetic diner wages could get you. Clearly, only moving across a city you once thought to be so vast wasn’t far enough. You could move across oceans, and something in your gut tells you his ghost would only be a few steps behind.

“You know, I still don’t get your issue with them, by the way. Are you just not big on rock music?” she asks, and you can imagine his offense and correction that it was metal, not just rock, “I get it’s not everyone’s cup of tea. I don’t know. Just seems a little personal, the way you avoid them like the plague.”

It is personal.

Your vendetta is so, so very personal when it comes to Corroded Coffin.

When it comes to Eddie Munson.

His name echoing in your mind finally has your fingertips slamming keys again, suddenly eager to bring up your email and prove Romina wrong. To get her as far from your desk as possible and end this conversation before you can spiral.

“I’ve never been a fan of that type of music,” you lie through your teeth. You had been. You had been their goddamn number one fan once upon a time.

Your work email can’t load fast enough when she continues on, “I’d argue they have at least one song for everyone. You just gotta give them a chance.”

No, the voice in your head screams. I do not need to give them a chance. I gave him a chance, and he blew it.

“I’m sure there is,” you grit out, those knots in your stomach wound so tightly they might just snap, “But not for me.”

Never for me.

They don’t know. No one in your life now knew about your past, about your ex, about the truth between you and Corroded Coffin.

They didn’t know that you’d been their first fan, standing in that stuffy garage at the Emerson’s residency through the scalding Hawkins’ summers. They didn’t know how you’d spent every Tuesday and Thursday night occupying a stool at the Hideout that had all but your name engraved into it. They didn’t know the way you’d packed up your entire life, the way you’d only moved to this cursed concrete jungle to see all of their wildest dreams come true. They were unaware that Corroded Coffin had nearly turned down the tour that triggered their breakout for you. All because their leading rockstar hadn’t wanted to leave you behind.

Funny how life works out.

Romina is unaware of your discomfort as she leans down over your shoulder to peer at the list of new emails you’d received this morning, “Oh, oh! That one! Click that one!”

Her long, blood-red stiletto nail taps at the screen excitedly, pointing out an email from your boss with an eye catching subject line.

Meeting at Noon — New Project Assignment.

“Holy shit!” Ro exclaims, getting ahead of herself before you’ve even clicked on the email. You can’t click on it. You’re petrified. “Oh, holy shit! You definitely got the project! Are you fucking kidding me?”

For a moment, you’re silent, staring at the screen in buzzing shock. It rings in your ears and it blurs the edges of your vision, the weight of the possibility finally causing the first snap within your chest.

No. No, no, no.

You don’t want this project. Not the rumored client, and certainly not the attention that it has attracted from all your peers. No.

“We don’t even know if it’s going to be what everyone says it will be,” you choke out, white knuckling your mouse. Romina can’t see your face — she can’t see the year of practiced indifference crumbling so easily, “It- It probably won’t be Corroded Coffin, Ro. It can’t be. They wouldn’t assign me something so huge. Th-They probably just have another wedding for me. Maybe another bakery opening up in town — I think I heard about one on Third Street-“

Ro’s hands come down on your shoulders, giving what should be a reassuring squeeze, but it only smothers you during your breathless rant.

“Babe,” she emphasizes, “This is a good thing.”

It’s not. It’s really, really not.

But you don’t know if the project is what everyone has been murmuring about. You don’t know for sure that the email has anything to do with it. The contents of what your boss had written to you have little to no specifics; nothing more than a request to come to her office at noon to properly discuss the details of this assignment. So you convince yourself it’ll be fine, that it really is just about that bakery opening up on third street. You convince yourself to shake away any thoughts of chestnut curls and honey brown eyes. You convince yourself to untense your shoulders and smile up at your coworker, faking enough enthusiasm to satiate her until she’s walking away from your desk giddily, taking her coffee cup with her.

Your eyes avert to the expected coffee mark that had formed a perfect ring on your stark white desk.

Stained. What a pesky thing to become.

—

“I’m not going out tonight,” you repeat yourself for the millionth time over the line, pinching the phone between your shoulder and ear as you opened your fridge to dig around for whatever leftovers you might be able to salvage into a dinner for the night, “I don’t feel well.”

“But we need to hear about the new project!” Ro’s chirp comes over the line. You can hear the buzzing of a bar in the background. Glasses clinking, strangers chatting. Hell, you could probably pinpoint the song playing lowly if you focused hard enough.

You weren’t focusing on the call, though. It was the last thing you wanted to offer up your dwindling attention to, desperate to get off the line and resume your very exciting night of cold pasta with a side of whatever sitcom was running old episodes on the television.

The phone nearly slips from your half assed attempt to keep it against your cheek as you sigh, “It went fine. I already told you guys it did. Nothing exciting, okay? It was the bakery on Third that’s opening up, just like I thought it would be.”

A lie.

The meeting went anything but fine. Your boss, Lydia, has just been plain secretive. And normally, that wouldn’t bother you, but it meant your worst fears were coming true.

The bakery on third wouldn’t have needed such secrecy, and they sure as Hell wouldn’t have insisted on you signing an NDA prior to even meeting and discussing the event you’d be planning.

“It’s all just precautions,” Lydia had insisted as she slid that damn paperwork over to you, “Just to protect the client. They’re a bigger name than we’re used to dealing with. If you sign, we’ll have a proper meeting with them tomorrow and dig into all the nitty gritty.”

“You phrase it like I have a choice,” you had muttered before picking up the pen.

You knew you didn’t. And Lydia’s smile had confirmed it.

Romina continues on with more convincing, but you’ve stopped listening. There’s not a single thing she could really say now that your mind was made up — you were staying in tonight.

“Ro,” you finally snatch the phone back up into your hand, straightening out as you pick out a random tupperware that you think holds chicken parm from that fancy lunch date you’d gone on over the weekend, “I’m not coming out. I’m sorry.”

Complete silence on her end. You worry for a moment that you had been too harsh.

“Okay,” she finally gives up.

“Okay?”

“Okay,” the word continues to echo back and forth between you two, “That’s fine. I’ll just have to bother you about it tomorrow. At work. Where you can’t use bullshit excuses to escape me.”

You consider snapping back about how you absolutely still could, until you consider the fact that you have a real excuse, “Good luck with that. I have a very real meeting with… with a client.”

You don’t even know the name of the client, technically. You can only guess.

You still hope you’re wrong.

“Right,” she laughs over the line, “See you tomorrow, babe.”

“See you tomorrow,” you repeat back, staring at your now closed fridge before you’re relieved by the sound of a dial tone, signaling that she’s finally hung up.

What you should do now is plate the leftovers, arrange yourself on your sofa, and numb your mind with The Office reruns. What you should do is leave well enough alone and continue in your delusion.

You don’t.

It starts innocently; you do transfer the cold chicken parm onto a plate and you do curl up on your sofa before flicking on the television. You do set the channel to the reruns. You do – and you swear you do it all with the best intentions.

But then your mind wanders.

As you stare straight ahead at the television, you’re not processing a single image that flashes across the screen. Your thoughts are a bit preoccupied with different images, movies and snippets from a point in your life that now feels like a lifetime ago. Conspicuous dimples making an appearance from across the room at a joke you had made, unkempt curls flying recklessly in the driver’s seat beside you on late night drives with the windows down, wild eyes shining like sunlight through a whiskey bottle as he catches your gaze from a stage much smaller than what he must be used to now.

Everything from before. Before the not-fight, before the fame, before the move. Images of when Eddie had been yours and only yours, not yet a precious gem to have to share with the world.

“Are you busy tonight?”

Your locker had been slammed shut by a hand that didn’t belong to you, knuckles adorned with familiar rings and distinct callouses along the fingertips.

“Hello to you, too, Eddie,” you smiled as you clutched one of the unnecessarily heavy textbooks to your chest, turning to face the boy who stood impatiently at your side. He was all jitters, rocking on his heels and nearly incapable of standing still as his body buzzed with excitement.

It rolled off him in waves, contagious as he leaned into you, “Yes, yes. Hello, sweetheart. How was your day?” you opened your mouth to answer him, but Eddie comically steamrolled right on, hands waving erratically, “Good? Good! Excellent! Now, are you busy tonight?”

“I was planning to study for O’Donnel’s test-“

“So you don’t have plans!” he exclaimed, throwing an arm around your shoulders as one of the annoying warning bells chimed. He may have been in an interruptive mood, but he knew you hated being late to class — less about being anal about punctuality, and more about the stares you’d practically burn under from the attention of other students when you’d barge in on the teacher mid-sentence, “Perfect. Absolutely perfect. In that case, I have fantastic news!”

You allowed him to guide you amongst the bustling student bodies, only gaining a few stares from fellow peers, “You do, do you?”

He nodded before he reached out and snatched that heavy textbook out of your arms, “Here, let me carry that for you, darling.”

“Darling?” your nose scrunched, “Oh, no. You’re trying to sweeten me up. What did you do?”

“Nothing!”

Liar. The crack in his voice would have given him away if his hyperactive energy hadn’t already done so.

“Oh, really? Then what’s your fantastic news, rockstar?”

His grin that broke at your nickname for him could have destroyed the Earth you walked on just as easily as it could have mended it. Something groundbreaking, something to churn the dirt and raise the dead. Something made of pure sunshine and static happiness. But the only thing that cracked was your chest as it tried to contain the residual joy it felt for him in that moment.

“Well…” he trailed off, leaving just enough room for a suspenseful pause that could have suffocated the room without that damn grin on his face, “Let’s just say you’re looking at the frontman of the Hideout’s newest Thursday night entertainment.”

You took a moment to catch on, Eddie keeping you pressed closely to his side as the two of you stopped outside of your next class.

“Thursday nights?” you questioned, brain working overtime to piece together what he’d just said, “Wait, I thought you guys only played Tuesda-“

When you had processed what he had meant, all that animated elation that had been consuming him became shared. Every jitter in his bones became your own, your own lips speedily spreading into a proud smile to challenge his own.

“Oh, holy shit,” you gasped, “You guys got the gig.”

One more bounce of his heels, curls quivering with the movement as his arms fell from you and the two of you faced one another.

“We got the gig.”

“You got the gig!”

People had been staring more obviously at the sudden rise in volume from you, but you hadn’t cared. Because in that moment, all you focused on was the eager boy in front of you, and the way your broken chest mended from the same grin that had burst it wide open, only for it to swell with inexplicable pride.

“We got the fuckin’ gig!” he shouted right back, laughter slipping from between his lips that started to echo your own.

You were the one bouncing then, hands instinctively reaching out to press on his shoulders in gentle slapping motions, unable to contain or conventionally express this pounding excitement.

“You got the fuckin’ gig!” you were just parroting each other now, but you were just as delirious as he was as that final bell signaling you were late rang out. That certain embarrassment you were sure to have to face had become a distant memory.

Eddie had wanted this for a while. He’d been bugging the owner of the bar on the edge of town about Corroded Coffin earning a second night of residency for months, only taking the repeated rejections as encouragement to ramp up his convincing charm. You’d seriously doubted it would work, but had never voiced the concern aloud to Eddie. You’d always figured that the worst that could have happened would be another no, fuck off, kid. But the best that could have happened had been this — he would be told yes and secure his band two weekly performances at the Hideout rather than just the single one they played before.

You didn’t know it then, but it was the first step down the path that would lead to inevitable heartbreak.

“I haven’t even told the guys yet,” Eddie admitted once the two of you calmed down to the best of your abilities, “I… Uh, I wanted to tell them after school today. Was wondering if you might, I don’t know, maybe- do you wanna be there when I do?”

And that made sense. Eddie inviting you made sense when you attended every single band practice in Gareth’s garage as religiously as he did. When you knew every word to their whole three original songs even better than him at times.

He wanted you there. You were important to him, to the band, and he wanted you there.

“I- Is that even a question?” you stared at him in disbelief, “Of course I wanna be there, you fuckin’ idiot. I can’t believe you told me before you told them, honestly.”

His demeanor softened, the ghost of his exuberance still stubbornly lingering. But your eyes were on him, glowing with such high regard that it was impossible to not let it creep beneath his skin and trigger a blush across the bridge of his nose. All that love, all that pride. So genuine it could have made him cry.

“Of course I told you first,” he whispered in a finally empty hallway, “You’re always the first person I tell any good news to, sweetheart.”

When had you stopped being the first person he shared his forthcomings with?

Probably the day you had decided to leave him, leave the entire life you two had built together, under the guise of best intentions.

The TV continues to play as you stare at the wall, mind and heart alike locked up with nostalgia. The plate of leftovers has long since been sat down on the coffee table.

You hadn’t let yourself reminisce like this since the very first night you had spent in your apartment. That first night, you’d allowed yourself to wallow. You had sat on this very same sofa, the entire apartment pitch black as you weren’t brave enough to turn on a single light and face yourself, and told yourself that any and all tears or regrets had to be purged that night. A funeral for all that you had lost, a single night to mourn all that you had left behind.

Clearly, one night was never enough to let go of years of memories – of love.

You don’t shut off the TV as you impulsively grab your phone, not thinking the action through before you do the one thing you had forbidden yourself from over the last few years; you’re going to Google search Eddie Munson. You’d created the rule as a make-believe step in the right direction. You told yourself if you didn’t google him, if you didn’t track down his every move after you’d left behind the damage done, then you could move on easier.

From the first headline, you realize that it might have never been about moving on.

FINAL NAIL IN THE COFFIN? HAS EDDIE MUNSON, LEAD SINGER OF CORRODED COFFIN, FINALLY GONE TOO FAR?

EDDIE MUNSON — ARRESTED AGAIN?

HOTEL COMES FORWARD ABOUT DAMAGES DONE BY ROWDY ROCKSTAR EDDIE MUNSON

HOW TO BURY A CAREER: A DETAILED TIMELINE OF CORRODED COFFIN’S EDDIE MUNSON’S DOWNFALL

“EDDIE MUNSON GAVE ME A CONCUSSION” - VICTIMS OF THE ROCKSTAR’S CLUB TANTRUM COME FORWARD.

Each headline sends your head reeling, eyes widening impossibly without even clicking on the stories.

The boy you had known wouldn’t have done half of the things these accusations stated. Violence, trashing hotel rooms, public temper tantrums taken too far — it doesn’t feel as though you’re reading about someone you once knew, someone you once loved. The man in these paparazzi photos is a stranger, completely unrecognizable with his red eyes and middle fingers held high.

A particular photo catches your attention. He’s standing outside what you assume is a club, in handcuffs. His hands are locked behind his back, an officer not far behind and his face bathed in glows of blue and red lights flashing from a car half blocking the camera’s view of him, and he’s grinning with dead eyes squinted to the sky. It almost looks as if he’s midlaugh — as if the entire scene was funny to him.

The one time he’d nearly been caught while pedaling drugs for Reefer Rick back home in Hawkins when you’d still known him, he had nearly burst into tears. Had panicked as he scrambled to shove everything, even just the weed, into every possible hiding place within his van. He hadn’t laughed in the officer’s face; he had been petrified, face transforming to that of a terrified little boy as you had told him to calm down and play it cool.

You should stop scrolling. But you can’t.

Another photo, one that makes your chest echo with another hollow pang. It was clearly taken without him realizing it, the quality atrocious as the camera had attempted to focus in on him through a balcony sliding door of what must be a hotel. But despite the terrible blur, you can clearly pick out the details that were meant to be exposed.

A speckle of white coating the ring of his nostril. Made even more obvious by that midday sun shining in on him.

It was clearly the middle of the afternoon, and Eddie had clearly been caught snorting cocaine.

It’s a bit much. You haven’t even scrolled far enough to catch sight of all the pap photos of him with different women, or the photos of him clearly inebriated at major events that had been meant to celebrate him and the band’s success. You lock your phone, you set it down on the table with the screen facing down. You hardly recognize him.

The reality is you had never googled Eddie for the same reason most won’t look at the corpse of loved one’s at open casket funerals – you wanted to remember him when things had been good. You had wanted to convince yourself that you still knew him, some version of him, and that he hadn’t become a total stranger.

But, really, you’d known the moment you had walked out of that once shared apartment that you had lost the privilege of knowing him. Of loving him. The moment he had stopped telling you that he loved you, you had known something between the two of you had died. Losing Eddie hadn’t been a sudden thing — it had been a long, painful, torturous process. When all that love and all that promise had died, it hadn’t gone down without a fight. He had smothered it, but you had provided the extinguisher. You had pushed him to chase after his dreams, and you should have never been surprised when he did exactly that.

You should have never been surprised that one day, the space you’d claimed residency in in Eddie’s heart would become nothing more than an annoying prick to him. A thorn in his side, sharp and threatening all that he had worked so hard to achieve.

So you’d left. You’d left, told yourself it was for the best, and exited with more love for the memory of a man than the tangible person on the other end of that terribly lonely dial tone – on the rare occasions he did call.

You didn’t know him. It’s a truth you should have long since swallowed, but hadn’t. Not yet. Not in the last two years.

Your appetite is gone as you stand from the couch and grab the leftovers, only pausing on your way to the kitchen to scrape the waste off into the trash can. What a waste. As you put away the plate into the sink, not bothering to wash or even rinse away the crumbs, you immediately grab one of your few wine glasses and set it on the counter. Drinking wasn’t the wisest idea, but your body has begun to move on autopilot. And it seems convinced that feeling the buzz from alcohol would be better than the feeling of nothing at all.

You didn’t know him anymore. And the space you’d still let him occupy in your memories, whether you’d wanted to admit it or not, was now hollow.

You turn your back on the glass, still numb and still reeling as you open the fridge and pull out a half empty bottle of merlot, cork half peeking out the top of the bottle. You can see that stained bottom half, almost half hidden in a weak attempt to preserve the wine inside. Maroon. Deep, deep maroon bleeds up and feathers at the edges of that cork as you pull it out fairly aggressively, carelessly tossing it onto the white countertop and not watching it bounce as you pour yourself a drink.

In your hollow staring off into the distance, you don’t realize you’ve missed the glass in your pouring until the chilled liquid splashes at your knuckles – until it’s too late. You panic, grabbing at paper towels and rinsing off your hand in the same breath, but it’s clear that it’s a useless battle in cleaning up the mess you’ve made.

The damage is already done. As you soak up the wine and swipe away, a pink-tinged blotch is still left behind.

Stained. What a pesky thing to become.

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#maroon #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #eddie munson angst #lowkey terrified to post this oh god #oh well #ghost's stories

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mysecretlittlelibrary · 2 years ago

Text

Take What You Give

Pairing: Nightcrawler x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: fingering, hella dirty talk, pet names, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, DP kinda- it's with his tail so there's that, praise praise praise, unprotected p in v, creampie, kinda cockwarming also- I think that's everything lol

Genre: smut with the tiniest bits of fluff

Summary: after a dreadfully boring date you know the perfect way to unwind

A/N: Someone on tiktok called Nightcrawler community dick and this idea popped into my head because of it lmaoo

***

You're bored. You're on a date with the least interesting person you've ever met in your life and oh GOD you are bored. You feel bad, he's cute and seems like a nice person but none of your conversations have been stimulating this whole time. You're trying to give a real and honest chance before you quit on this and leave. Although you'll admit you're already making plans for after this date so maybe you've checked out at this point. When he starts telling a story about a nightmarish party his college roommates held years ago you practically leap from your chair.

"Sorry to interrupt, I need to use the restroom." You tell him. You don't wait for him to respond before you rush off to find the bathroom. You allow yourself five minutes to come up with a plan ultimately setting a timer before heading back to your table. "Sorry about that. Please, continue." You say with a smile.

"All good?" He asks.

"Yes. Thank you." You say and he continues his story. Twelve minutes later, the alarm on your phone goes off. "Hang on let me just- sorry I have to take this." You mutter angling your phone away from his view as you fake a phone call. "Hello? ... No I'm out, why is everything okay? ... what?! ... Do you need me to come and get you? ... don't be silly of course I'll come. I'm on my way, alright? ... See you soon. Hang in there." You pace out your responses to your imaginary call. "Dillan I'm so sorry my friend is- in a bit of trouble and really needs my help. I hate to bail but it can't wait." You grimace as convincingly as you can.

"Is everything alright? Do you need-"

"I'm alright. We'll take care of it. I just have to go now, but tonight has been fun. I'll call you!" You say standing up. You will not be calling him.

"Yeah I had a great time. I hope things with your friend turn out fine." He says standing with you. You leave the restaurant with one more muttered goodbye and roll your eyes once you're down the block. Time to solidify your plans for the rest of your evening. You dial the number you haven't used in some time- a few months you think but no matter.

"Liebling." His voice is a little breathless when he answers.

"Hi Kurt." You say.

"It's been a while." You can hear the smile in Kurt's voice.

"I'm a busy woman Wagner and you have quite the schedule yourself. Are you engaged for the evening?"

"I can make myself unengaged."

"Don't trouble yourself Kurt."

"For you my dear it's never trouble. When do you want to see me?"

"Whenever you can unengage yourself and get here is fine. I'm not in any particular rush." You tell him.

"I'll see you in an hour. Ish. Be ready."

"Already am." You say suggestively before hanging up the phone. You catch the beginning of what, knowing Kurt, was probably a swear and you chuckle to yourself as you make your way home.

At home, you take off your makeup and the dress you wore and change into some pretty lacy lingerie. Kurt is quite fond of your collection, he says taking them off feels like unwrapping a present he's been dying to receive for months. He's quite dramatic, but you don't see him often so it's easy to enjoy giving him that little treat when you call on him. It's not yet an hour later when he materializes in your bedroom where you're reading leisurely.

"Hello darling." He smiles.

"You're early." You match the grin on his face.

"I said 'ish' plus I hate to keep you waiting." He shrugs.

"Always so sweet to me." You hum marking your place in your book and placing it on the nightstand beside you.

"Do you work tomorrow?" Kurt asks.

"No."

"Good." He says and then he's over you, holding himself up with one hand while his other cups your face. "You smell of cologne."

"Bad date." You mutter tugging him down to connect his lips to yours. The kiss doesn't last long, you feel him smile against your lips before pulling away.

"Happy to help you forget about it darling but you should call on me more often if you're feeling lonely."

"If you're worried I'm replacing you Kurt don't be. You'll always be my favorite." You wink at him pulling him in for another kiss. This one he doesn't break, his tongue slipping into your mouth, dominating the kiss quickly. His hands are up your sides nails slightly dragging against your skin enough to send shivers through you. You back away from him enough to tug his shirt over his head, sliding your fingers down his patterned chest.

"I'll always be your favorite hm?" He smirks kissing down your neck.

"Of course my shadow jumper." You whimper when his mouth focuses on a spot against your throat, one of your hands sliding into his hair.

"You know you're my favorite don't you liebling?" He hums into your skin.

"Never had a doubt." You giggle.

"Good girl." His lips trail further, kissing the swell of your best just over the edge of your bra. "I think this might be my favorite set on you too by the way." He says sitting back and pulling you with him so he can unhook the lacy number.

"You say that every time you're here Kurt." You remind him.

"Every time I'm here you unlock a new type of perfection." He winks dipping his head to wrap his lips around one of your nipples as he lays you back against your pillows.

"You're such a flatterer." You say jokingly but a moan punctuates the sentence as Kurt's teasing tongue against your chest tugs at something deep within you. Your back arches towards him your fingers burying themselves in his hair again. Kurt's tail slides up your leg, making you squirm even more and he uses the extra appendage to pull your panties down your body. That tail wraps around one of your ankles, keeping your legs spread for the hand that slides down your abdomen. When his fingers reach the apex of your thighs you're breathing hitches before he's even touched you.

"Always so ready for me, pretty girl." Kurt chuckles. He plunges two fingers into you quickly, curling them in just the right way to have you grinding against his hand. His fingers pump in and out of you with deliberate thrusts, stretching you for him. "Heaven help me, you're absolutely soaking." Kurt hisses, your juices flowing over his hand.

"Fuck babe- I'm close." You pant out, arching into his hand as you chase your end.

"That's it liebling, let go for me." Kurt coaxes softly before leaning forward to take your clit between his lips. He sucks harshly on the bundle of nerves and the sudden stimulation sends you over the edge with a whine. He works you through it with gentle licks and slow pumps of his fingers, watching the way your face shifts between the stages of your pleasure. When you let out a long albeit shaky breath he pulls away, knowing that loud unsteady release of air means you're back in your body. "Oh how I love making you do that." He says pressing a kiss to your lips before placing his sticky fingers into his mouth. The groan he lets out at your taste flooding his tongue is pornographic. There's no other way to describe it, and a fresh wave of arousal washes over you at the sound. You watch him clean his fingers with a darkened look that he relishes in. That carnal desire in your eyes focused solely on him, he'll never get tired of it. When the essence of you no longer coats his digits he pulls them out with a satisfying pop.

"Skipping your usual protocol today?" You ask with a teasing smile. You'd have no qualms if he did but Nightcrawler is one of those makes you cum a dozen times for his own enjoyment types who has never passed up the opportunity to eat you out before fucking you.

"And allow the sweetest nectar to go to waste? Don't insult me." He scoffs shifting himself to lie between your legs. He wastes no time pulling you towards his waiting mouth and allowing his tongue to dive into your center. Your fingers are in his ink-colored hair moments later, desperate to ground yourself as he devours you like his final meal.

His tongue thrusts in and out of you, slurping the juices that spill from you, moaning as your arousal washes over every inch of his mouth. The sounds from him reverberate against your skin only furthering your madness as Kurt takes you apart one lick, one slurp, one suck at a time. When your legs begin to shake, he brings his hands up to hold your thighs still, digging his fingers into the flesh there as he feasts. Your first orgasm on his tongue meets you with a loud moan and barely contained thrashing that does nothing to slow Kurt. You jerk against his still seeking mouth, but his hold on your thighs simply tightens as he continues his onslaught.

"God! Kurt- please!" You cry out though you're not sure if you're asking him to stop or continue. As if it matters, Kurt will go until he's satisfied which with him could literally be hours. With Kurt there's no such thing as too much, he can go and go and go shattering you into a million pieces just to put you back together so he can do it all over again. And you let him. You relish in the bite of overstimulation that soon melts away to pure pleasure again as his tongue forces another orgasm from you. This one takes you by surprise as you pull at the strands between your fingers, your body convulsing harshly.

Kurt's eyes meet yours and he winks at you as he pulls you tighter against his mouth. His tongue focusing now on your too sensitive clit. You writhe against him, caught between escaping and searching for more as you squeal from his ministrations. When a scream Kurt would describe as piercing falls from your lips and your third orgasm coats his tongue he finally gives you a break, working you through your release before sitting up.

"When I asked if we were skipping your protocol it wasn't a challenge." You eventually huff at him, once your chest stops heaving so hard you thought you'd never get enough air in your lungs.

"Tapping out already? I've given you much more in one go before. Perhaps I should be checking on you more often liebling." Kurt smirks as he wipes his face.

"Tapping out? Before you've even fucked me? It's like you don't know me at all anymore sweet one." You tease back.

"That's my girl." Kurt chuckles shucking his pants off before sinking into you. Between your breathless moan and the feeling of your walls pulsing around him Kurt can't help but groan when he bottoms out. He holds still for a moment allowing both you and him to adjust to your heat swallowing his length. With a deep breath, his hips rock back, almost all the way, and then he thrusts into you so harshly that he shifts you on the bed. He settles his hands on your hips then and sets a brutal rhythm, his hips snapping against yours relentlessly.

"Holy- fuck." You grit out, tossing your head back against the bed. Kurt always fills you to the point where it's almost too much, you can feel him everywhere somehow but oh how you love it. Your nails scrape down Kurt's back as you cling to him while he fucks you ruthlessly.

"So good. You feel so good liebling." He huffs out between his thrusts.

"So do you, god- you fuck me so well. Fill me so nicely."

"I know I do pretty one, this pussy loves taking my dick. Does it so well each time. Isn't that right baby?"

"Yeah- yes- love it so much." You whimper when Kurt's tail slips between your bodies and finds your clit. The extra appendage is as dexterous as his fingers and the swollen bundle of nerves reacts to it the same way, luring you to another orgasm that has you shuddering in Kurt's arms. His tail continues to poke around near where you and Kurt are joined, his hips not slowing even with his tail in the mix. It's something he's done before, not often- but it seems tonight he's pulling out all the stops. The tip of his tail is gathering your wetness, covering itself to prepare for entering you at the other end. Kurt lifts your hips further into him, holding you high enough for his tail to get under you and slowly prod your ass.

"Gonna stuff you proper tonight." Kurt mutters before his tail breeches you. Your gasping whine at the sudden intrusion only fuels Kurt more. His tail quickly matches his hips in rhythm filling you in both holes, clouding your mind. You're a mess of moans and whines as Kurt has his way with you. He pulls one or two more orgasms from you before he's spilling into you with a roar. He doesn't even bother pulling out before lays beside you and pulls you tightly against him. He kisses your forehead softly and whispers something in German that you don't know the meaning of. It's fine he'll be here a while. With Kurt it's never one and done. He'll pull more orgasms from you until you've completely lost count, until all you know is his name and the pleasure he's giving you, until the world has been flipped on its axis and you along with it. It happens every time and that's exactly why you call him when you do.

***

#marvel #marvel fanfiction #nightcrawler #nightcrawler fanfiction #nightcrawler smut #nightcrawler x reader #kurt wagner #kurt wagner x reader #other marvel characters

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enyearns · 1 year ago

Text

Bakugou Katsuki: All the Lovers in the Night

in which bakugou keeps you company (even though you never asked for it)

✧ genre: fluff ✧ cw: some swearing! (sorry! my hands are tied, bakugou is a swearer!); also a brief mention of sex (the characters don't do anything remotely promiscuous, it's just mentioned) ✧ wc: 2.1k

song for this read: Sunsetz by Cigarettes After Sex

a/n: i think, sometimes, we all deserve a tame bakugou. and, i believe that bakugou really can simmer down when he's with you. it's no wonder why you feel safe with him. (i am an avid fan of this kind of bakugou. very avid fan).

You usually fall asleep easily. Really, you could sleep just about anywhere, even if it were on some rocky surface, or even if people were yelling all around you; you would just need five minutes before you’ll completely clock off the world.

But tonight was one of the nights where your mind was needlessly bustling with thoughts. Your body was extremely exhausted, and your mind was at the brink of sanity, yet your spirit couldn’t commit to sleep. You were, frustratingly, tossing and turning in bed, chasing sleep that eluded you.

You were beginning to feel suffocated and dreadfully alone in your room, so you wrapped your fluffy blanket around your shoulders and grabbed two books, taking off downstairs to the common area. Here it was dark and (unsurprisingly) empty; all the lights had been long turned off and there was no chatter in any corner of the dormitory, but still you felt like you had space to breathe again.

As you made your way quietly to the couch, you felt comfort in seeing the traces of your classmates scattered around. The cake that Sato had baked (which was beautifully spongy and amazingly sweet) was on the countertop, only a few slices left since you and the other girls had graciously helped yourself to some. On the tables were someone’s textbooks. It was probably Sero and Kirishima’s — you saw the two studying (and chatting loudly) together earlier.

Honestly, it were the little things that made you feel safe again.

You curled up on the couch, turning on the lamp by the edge, and for a few minutes you had deliberated on which book to read.

On one hand, you could continue reading Crime and Punishment, a fantastic Dostoevsky classic, or you could finish off Olivie Blake’s Alone With You in The Ether. In the end, you decided to put the psychological crime novel aside and opted for the young adult fiction. Where you’re at in C&P right now is boring, what with the chapter centered around the insufferable Katerina Ivanovna. And, to be quite frank, where you’re at mentally isn’t capable of reading through Ivanovna’s self-wallowing dialogue at the moment.

You don’t know how much time has passed, but you were pretty invested in the book, reading each line with a curious focus. You were now laying on your stomach, nose buried deep into the book as you kicked your feet and blushed and giggled to yourself. You were so immersed that you didn’t even notice that someone had come around.

In fact, you didn’t notice until you felt a dip on the couch, making you look up curiously. Your eyes locked with a pair of strikingly crimson orbs, which were weary and slightly hazy.

Bakugou looked extremely tired, wearing just a black tank that showed off his biceps, and some plaid pyjama pants. He was holding onto a half-empty glass. “What you reading, nerd?”

You smiled remembering the scene that you’re on, but your cheeks also simultaneously burned. Hopefully Bakugou would not be able to make that out right now, since the lamp only dimly lit the space. “It’s nothing.”

He raised his brow, but he was too tired to pry, concluding the end of their quiet chatter (if this even counts as one). Bakugou made no move to leave. He was just sitting there and staring off into the distance, not saying a word. You, still lying on your stomach facing the boy, would sometimes look up to see what he’s doing, but you were met with the same listless and unreadable expression on his face. He was so uncharacteristically quiet that you were convinced that he was asleep with his eyes wide open.

But you didn’t urge him to go back to his room to rest, nor did you ask why he was up in the first place. You didn’t want to prompt him to suddenly go away (knowing how easily his mood fluctuates). You enjoyed his company, and, as selfish as it was, you would hate it if he left.

He eventually stood up (abruptly, to say the least), leaving just as quietly as he arrived. Before you could even let the disappointment stir within you, he came back again having refilled his cup. He had brought you a glass too.

You gratefully took a few sips and placed the glass cup on the coffee table, mumbling a thank you, to which he just grunted.

Instead of lying back down on your stomach, you took a risk (Bakugou is a flight risk, honestly) and rested your head on the boy’s lap. You could feel him stiffen under you, and when you looked at him curiously, it was only a moment later before he allowed himself to relax again.

You smiled to yourself, only slightly, and began to read again.

“So something’s botherin’ you.”

You lifted your eyes to look at him again. He was looking at you, his eyes still swirling with fatigue, but his brows were creased in concern. “I don’t want to trouble you.”

His frown only deepened. “Too late, ‘cause shit’s already troublin’ me.” You didn’t respond; you don’t really want to get into it right now. He quickly sensed that you weren’t going to tell him anything, so he just let out a soft sigh. “Still haven’t told me what you’re reading.”

You showed him the cover of your book, and he tilted his head to read the title. “‘Alone With You in the Ether’? Sounds corny as shit.”

You furrowed your brows and pouted unhappily, making the boy avert his gaze elsewhere, fighting back the pink that was crawling up his neck. You're cute. “It’s romantic, but it’s also cynical, and the characters are just so miserable…” your lips curved into a smile. “They’re so cute together.”

“You’re just not right in the head.”

“Hey!”

“So then? If you like it, it must be good. Read me a passage, the one you’re at right now, read it.”

You opened your book once more. The book, you were holding it up over your face, was obstructing his view of you, so he looked back ahead. He was ready to listen, in fact, he was listening for something, but he could only feel you fidgeting on his lap. Moments passed with you trying to start, but growing shy and stopping, again and again. Finally having had enough, he looked down at you, quirking his brows for a second time upon seeing you hide your face behind the pages.

“I– I can’t read it…”

Bakugou clicked his tongue and grabbed the book from you, skimming through the two open pages. He felt his body grow hot reading the words, albeit in a blur. It didn’t click for him immediately what you were reading, but it was definitely a… a you know what passage.

And you got your damn head in his lap right now!!

“I-in my defense, okay, you caught me at a bad time! This is the only one– ugh! Olivie Blake writes it so romantically anyway, so what does it even matter!!” You were flustered beyond repair, and your friend being so obviously at a loss for words wasn’t making you feel any better. So you made a move to lift yourself off him, but Bakugou held your shoulder down. Instead, he reached over you and grabbed your blanket, placing it over your body.

“You’re gonna catch a damn cold. You’re always getting cold too, what are you doing not using your damn blanket properly? You wanna get sick? It’s like you wanna get sick!”

Seeing the boy trying to literally cover up for you, his neck, ears and face coated in a furious blush, it made you want to laugh. If you didn’t know any better, you wouldn’t have realised that he was just trying to divert his attention, trying to keep the flow going. You smiled up at him, thankful, and continued to read.

From then on, neither of you exchange another word. He was tired, and he’s never usually up at this hour. He only woke up from his sleep because he suddenly needed to pee, and then he suddenly really needed a drink. It felt like the Sahara Desert in his damned throat. But then he saw you. You looked happy reading, but you were up at this hour, and he knows that that’s usually a tell that you were distressed.

He felt the sleep starting to overcome him again. He was absentmindedly running his hand through your soft hair (he doesn’t even know when he started doing this), and his arm was propped up on the couch in a relaxed manner.

Other than you sometimes squealing or gasping (he found it endearing, extremely endearing), it was completely silent. Before he knew it, he fell asleep in that same position, his hand still entangled between your locks.

You were also feeling calm and relaxed, especially under Bakugou’s surprisingly soft touch. Just being in his presence, you felt healed again. It was weird; in the past, you never thought that he would have this effect on you, but here you are now, quickly falling asleep because of his presence, even though sleep was hard to catch for the past few hours.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Bakugou was the first to wake. When he lifted his head (slowly), he immediately registered a dull ache in his neck. He was blinking his eyes, gradually getting used to the morning light that now filled the common area.

He looked around precariously. The TV was on. Sitting somewhere else on the couch, some distance away, were Tokoyami and Mineta. There were also some of his classmates having breakfast in the kitchen. It’s probably somewhere between 7 or 8 right now.

When he looked back down and saw that you were still sleeping, he felt his muscles relax again. You had curled up into him sometime in the night, your fingers loosely holding onto his shirt.

It might be the fact that he’s too sleepy right now to fight back the smile muscles, but he couldn’t help the upward turn of his lips as he gazed at you with the fondest of fond expressions. He gently brushed your hair away, admiring your pretty, resting face.

But of course, the moment’s too good to last. Too good when the other extras are around, at least.

“HE’S AWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAKE!!!!!!!!!”

An irk mark appeared on Bakugou’s forehead just hearing the grapehead’s irritating screech.

“HOW DARE YOU, BAKUGOU, HAVE A MIDNIGHT RENDEZVOUS WITH (Y/N)?! HOW DARE YOU DEFILE THE SACRED BODY OF (Y/N)!!!”

“Shut the fuck up, I didn’t do nothin’.”

“BAKUGOU’S AWAKE??” Pinky immediately came to the scene of the crime with a sly, sly, sly smirk on her face. She is too damn energetic for this hour, and Bakugou just pinched the bridge of his nose (which, now he realises slightly carries the scent of your shampoo). “WHAT HAPPENED BETWEEN YOU TWO????! TELL ME, TELL ME!!!”

“The nerd was reading some stupid novel.”

The others were also curious about the situation and started to crowd around the couch. They did (more or less) wake up to Bakugou and you sleeping together on the couch. How could they NOT be nosy, curious, and most of all, invested??

All this attention just irritated the ash blonde though. “Everyone shut up, she’s still sleeping!”

Mina cooed. “Awww, he cares so much for (y/n)!”

“I FOR ONE BE–”

“Shut the fuck up before I make you all shut the fuck up!!” he growled, lifting his hand menacingly. Sparks were coming out of his hand. It did work on scaring most of them, but Mina and Mineta were much too nosy to be threatened away.

The two were about to continue teasing Bakugou, but he felt you slightly stir, and this made his eyes widen in panic. He brought his hand back down to gently pat your head, all while glaring menacingly at Pinky and Grapehead, and oh, would you look at that, the rest of the Bakusquad were here too, looking at him with the same stupid ooh-la-laa expressions on their stupid faces.

One more word and I’ll kill you.

“The affectionate petting is really undercutting your tone bro.” (Kirishima was the only one brave enough to point this out).

“I fuckin’ know! Now scram, the nerd’s still sleepin’ so quit botherin’ us!!”

They eventually cleared because they adore you enough. Mina made a big deal out of it though, booing and showing him not one, but two thumbs down. Sero joined in, doing a i’m watching you gesture with his fingers.

Unluckily (or luckily…?) for Bakugou though, he was stuck in that same position for the next hour. Honestly, he could care less. All that mattered was that you were resting up and feeling safe, because it’s what you deserve.

He’ll deal with the achy muscles some other time (and maybe he’ll just make you pay for it).

en's chitter-chatter: thanks so much if you made it this far! writing really does get my mind off things, so if this had helped anyone get their minds off things too, that would make me really happy! >//< also, i just want to share the books i've mentioned so far!

Crime and Punishment (Fyodor Dostoevsky) is a russian classic. it's a really good read on destitution, poverty, and the degradation of morality/sanity that the main character (Raskolnikov) experiences in the face of it.

Alone With You in the Ether (Olivie Blake) is a young adult fiction about the unconventional romance between Aldo, a PhD student fascinated by time, and Regan, a counterfeit artist. it's a really short read, and the way the words and dialogue flows is poetic. i really do recommend it! in fact, i can't recommend it enough! ^0^

finally, i'm not sure if anyone caught this, but All the Lovers in the Night is a novel by Mieko Kawakami! it's a japanese contemporary that follows the life of a lonely Fuyuko Irie, who has no one, and quietly grapples with the sudden realisation that she is, in fact, not okay with the absence of human company.

final note: i have a little Uncle!Aizawa thing in my drafts, but (to be truthfully) it stems from a bigger private piece that i’ve got going on. writing about Uncle Aizawa has been very enjoyable; it’s cute and personally makes me smile. i do want to post it, but my aizawa in my universe has a bit of an extra backstory. the family of the main character (aizawa’s niece) is well fleshed out, but i feel that aizawa’s character and backstory would be too OOC to be standalone fics ^^’’ anyways… if you guys are A-OK with a slightly different take on aizawa, i would be more than happy to share it!

until then, that’s all for now! please take care, stay hydrated, and remember to eat well <3

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ma1dita · 1 year ago

Text

this will be our year

this was a request! find it here

words: 2.5k

summary: james does his best to plan reader's birthday! it's not as easy as you think

warnings: james is a leader not a planner, fluff!! bestfriend!james returns mwahaha

a/n: so sorry for this being literally two weeks after your birthday anon! life was kicking my ass but i hope you enjoy! writing many characters is something im trying to learn to make more organic

(posted and edited too many times to count 11/6/23)

—

There are a few things in life that James likes to think he’s very good at: making plans, pulling pranks, playing quidditch, and doing absolutely anything he can to make you smile. At first, he would laugh it off when his friends would say you two had something special. He is a gentleman, after all. James is the type of friend any of the girls would trust with a secret, or the one to borrow hair potion from when you’re in a pinch.

He loves to join in the gossip and crash your sleepovers when the boys are being ‘dreadfully boring’ (his words, not yours). He holds your bag when you walk to class (only yours, he’ll push Marlene’s books to the ground and run off laughing), bribes Peter with an extra helping of bacon to move his butt out of ‘your seat’ (whichever one was to the right of him) at breakfast, and definitely writes to his mom asking about what to get you for your birthday (and how much he’s been wanting to ask you out for almost about three years now).

Right... James is a great friend, so when you get all excited about your birthday, gushing about how you want to celebrate this year, he takes one look at the excitement on your face and hatches the perfect plan. Or so he thinks.

“I just can’t wait to celebrate with you guys, and not have to worry about exams, or projects, or boys, or curfew…” you muse, laying across Mary and Remus’s laps as everyone’s gathered in the common room. Sirius, and Peter are chasing each other with throw pillows while Dorcas and Lily share headphones on the other sofa. James beelines towards you, crawling across the open space.

“Boys? What boys have been worrying you, dove?” he says snidely, sneaking towards the space near your belly, looking up at your relaxed figure.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Mary giggles, and Remus huffs back laughter as he pats your head. James peers up at you as you smile knowingly.

“It’s a secret.” you smile, reaching out to poke his chin.

“You keep secrets from me now? From your most good-looking, bestest friend ever that plans the coolest awesomest birthday parties for you?”

Well, he did have a point. Ever since he accidentally flung you into the Black Lake third year in a prank meant for Snape, he’s almost always waited on you hand and foot. He had to, for your immediate response to laugh and flip him into the lake ‘qualified’ you as a Marauder (plus he thought you were really pretty—he swore he stopped crushing on Lily the next day.) And every birthday since has been bigger and better. Fourth year was the movie marathon out on the quidditch pitch; Fifth year was the picnic out next to Black Lake, and now you couldn’t wait to see what he has planned.

You look at the boy thoughtfully, smiling down at him and he swears it’s his favorite sight in the world.

“You don’t always have to know everything, Prongs…”

He chases after your hand with his mouth, trying to chomp one of your fingers. Idiot.

“Of course I do, or else no birthday party for you!” he jokes, and you giggle at the notion. He wouldn’t dare. He loves to celebrate you. Maybe this will be the year he asks you out… Is that cheesy? Or lame? James sighs, fussing with a string on his sweater, suddenly silent amongst the chaos of his lively friends. He’s got a lot of work to do.

—

The next week was filled with James’ hasty preparations and all of your friends were put up to the task of making his vision come together. Remus and Peter would get the booze, Mary and Alice would bake the sweet treats, Sirius and Lily were working on decorations, and Marlene and Dorcas were busy enchanting a record player to amplify through the party space James would get ready in the Room of Requirement. He’s been a little high-strung, overcalculating his endless to-do list to impress you.

All of them have been so…busy, and it was a bit lonely. You thought they might plan something with you, or for you, but you haven’t seen much of them in the past few days. Every bump in the corridor or spotting in the common room was a flurry of hushed whispers and giggles at jokes that flew over your head. Even dinner with them has been oddly silent, like watching a film but not being able to penetrate the scene that unfolds.

Peering down at the map one day after class, you see your friends’ names flitting around the map, all of them hanging out together, but not with you. That is, until a big hand nabs the parchment from your grasp.

“Hey!” “Sorry doll, need it for something important.” Sirius grins, pulling Lily along as they walk off briskly.

“Do you guys want to study later?” You call out after them, and they keep on walking, hands in their cloaks. Weird.

Many more of your requests have been denied. It’s a fickle thing, to suddenly feel unwanted in your group of friends. As a Marauder, you’ve earned your place there. But if Remus and Peter didn’t want to sneak out for a midnight snack, and Alice and Mary went shopping already, without you… Marlene and Dorcas were nowhere to be found.

That means you only had your favorite person to badger… James. You drag him into a broom closet after Muggle Studies one day, crossing your arms and looking up at him with frustration.

“Jeez, love, you’re stronger than you look!” He says sheepishly, hands landing on your waist.

“What are you all up to? Where have you been?” The pout on your face makes his knees weak, and it’d be so easy to just tell you….

No…He thinks, hardening his resolve as his thumb reaches out to smooth the crease in your forehead.

“Prongs,” you whine, poking his chest. The dim yellow lightbulb swings overhead, almost clobbering him in the skull.

“Why, you miss me that much?” He grins, prodding at your cheek. It’s cramped in here enough, and he hunches over your frame, unable to stop his smile at the look on your face.

“Yeah. I miss all of my friends. I sound like Moaning Myrtle whining after you lot! I wanna be involved in whatever you all are doing…” Delicate hands pull at the drawstrings of his hoodie and he feels like his chest tightens too.

“Hey, we haven’t forgotten you, so don’t worry, pretty girl. Your birthday’s coming up, right? You excited for that?” James’ thumb rubs at your cheek and he really wonders if, in any other instance, this could be platonic. Surely, you must like him too, right? Everything he does is to make you smile. He feels like he’s in a one-man show trying to embellish himself for your attention, and he’s waiting for the applause. Your hand grabs his as you lean into his touch.

“Got anything special planned?” You ask teasingly, and James can feel the warmth of your smile in his palm.

“For you? Of course.” He squeezes your cheek and you rip away from him, laughing. As you walk out of the closet, your shoulders bump as he wraps an arm around you.

“Don’t worry too much, dove. It’ll all work out,” he says, glad that you’re smiling again. “Wouldn’t let you have a terrible birthday. Never in a million years.”

“Exactly. What type of best friend would you be?” You smirk, walking off to your next class.

The thing is, he hopes you won’t be best friends by the end of it though. James huffs as he puts his hands in his pockets, walking in the opposite direction. This will be the year…. And it’s unsure if it’s a promise to himself or to you.

—

Of course, it wouldn’t be a Marauder plan of action without some mayhem. James had taken it upon himself to organize his big list of to-dos, assign jobs, and make sure everything was set up for your birthday. The Room of Requirement was decked out in enchanted sparklers, a huge cake was adorned by a spotlight in the corner of the room, and all your friends were there to celebrate you. Mary’s putting the final touches on the gift pile before she looks to Sirius and Peter, who are horsing around the room running through the balloons.

“Something’s missing,” she remarks, and the others scamper around to figure out what it is. Lily double checks the sound system for your favorite songs, Marlene makes sure the drinks are flowing and at the table set up in the back. Dorcas whacks Peter and Sirius to stop popping the balloons, and Remus, the smart one, turns on his heel to stomp towards James, who is looking like he could implode from stress at any given moment.

“Prongs…” Remus muses, unsure if he should laugh, or wring his neck.

“What did I forget?” he says sheepishly, looking down at his watch. A balloon pops.

“Did you invite the birthday girl?” Oh shit.

“HAH—Moony, you’re not supposed to be the funny one here, of course I….” his eyes fall down to his scroll of to-dos, looking at the only thing unmarked on his list.

• Get her to come to the best birthday celebration ever.

“I forgot to tell her, didn’t I…”

Right. James might’ve glossed over that one. His nervous laughter shrivels at the sight of his friends’ faces of disbelief as they bombard him with questions and profanities and so, he bolts out of there, trying to find you on the map.

—

Surprisingly, James finds you in the kitchen, sitting infront of a lone cupcake and the house elves singing you the worst rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ there ever was to magical folk. What should be his plan of action? Acting nonchalant, or owning up to his flub? All of his thoughts go out the window when he sees your despondent sigh at the lit candle, thinking your friends have forgotten his absolute favorite day of the entire year.

“Pretty girl, why are you so sad?” he says, rushing to meet you at the table. You’re pulling at your sleeves and looking at the cupcake in disappointment.

“Did you all forget about me?” you ask, bottom lip trembling at the notion. James shakes his head rapidly, so much so that his glasses are skewed as he looks at you.

“How could we forget the best birthday girl?”

“I’m the only birthday girl, and I haven’t seen any of you today. You didn’t even eat dinner with me,” you pout. Your huff of a sigh blows out the sad little candle, and it almost makes you want to crumple up in embarrassment. Your finger reaches out to sample some of the icing, and you bring it to your mouth, James following the movement with his eyes.

“I’m sorry dove. I might’ve messed up for this one,” he mutters, hating to see you upset.

“If you forgot to plan anything, it’s okay…. You’re not obligated to.” Your head falls to the slope of your shoulder, looking bashful at the idea of being celebrated. But James hasn’t gone all this way to see you unhappy.

“That’s the funny thing about it, erm…. I need you to come with me.” He pulls at your arm, but you won’t budge. How mortifying to conceptualize how you feel in this moment, feeling smaller than ever. A birthday is just a day, after all. Maybe they can make it up to you tomorrow.

“I dunno Prongs, I think I should just go to bed and wake up with a better attitude, yeah? It’s really oka–HEY!” James lifts you out of your chair and throws you over his shoulder, securing you to him before he bolts out of the kitchens. Your vision is blurred and all you can see is the massive muscles rippling down his back as he runs. His bum is quite nice too.

“James Potter, what in Merlin’s name do you think you’re doing? Put me down this instant or I’ll hex you into next week!” You screech, before he puts a silencing charm on you to not alert Filch of your antics. You reach out to hit his buttock as he exclaims, “Ow! Cheeky…. I promise you’ll like this, dove. You really thought we’d forget your birthday?”

There comes a point when he paces back and forth in front of the same stretch of wall and you think he’s insane, talking to himself and turning in circles. After the third lap, he sets you down, your arms crossed and quite stern at the trip he’s taken you on. James smooths your hair down before he looks you in the eyes, standing a bit closer than a friend would, but Godric is he excited to show you his work.

“Ahem. Do you really think I’d forget your big day, pretty girl? It’s my favorite day of the year!” He smiles and you shake your head with a smile. He nudges the door open to reveal all your friends, yelling “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

Still inaudible, your mouth is gaping wide in shock, silent laughter escaping your mouth. Marlene and Dorcas carry the cake over to you before they sing in all sorts of tunes, none of them on key and possibly worse than the house elves. The light of the candles caresses the warmth in your cheeks as you look at your friends in wonder. You mumble something like a ‘thank you’ but they can’t comprehend it until Remus undoes the charm, whacking James across the head.

—

Later, James sneaks behind you, throwing an arm around your waist, whispering ‘Happy birthday’ for the millionth time, but he’ll never get tired of telling you how much he cares.

“Are you happy, birthday girl?” he smiles, and you get on your tiptoes to give him a kiss that lands on the corner of his mouth. The applause is back, thundering in his ears before he realizes it’s the sound of his heart when you’re near.

Yeah, this will be the year everything changes. His plans are racking up into a list in his brain as you gaze at him all starry-eyed and smiley. Your friends are all looking at you knowingly, and he can’t wait to get to work, for there is just so much to do.

—

“In case you foolishly forget: I am never not thinking of you.” - Virginia Woolf

taglist: @jsjcue

love me some tunes! i listened to this while writing: this will be our year by lowland hum

#made by ma1dita ♥︎#marauders era #marauders x reader #james potter x reader

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