#and will be content to remain with what I have in the meantime | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shadowtriovibes · 1 year

Text

fever (what a lovely way to burn)

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Word Count: 4.8k

Rating: M

Warnings: 18+, aged-up characters, friends to lovers, character with fever/illness, mild sensual content

Summary: request: "since you saved Sebastian from Azkaban, he has met you in the common room every morning and you have gone to breakfast together. One morning he isn't there so you go to his room looking for him to find him in bed, poorly."

“I’m disgusting,” he groans. “I can’t stop coughing, I’m sweating everywhere, I feel like I’m going to be sick but there’s nothing to–” He cuts himself off with several dry, pathetic coughs. “Here’s what we’re going to do,” you tell him firmly. “Ominis is going to go to class and come back this afternoon with some Muggle medicinals. In the meantime, I’m going to help you eat a bit of food and have a bath.” “N-no, absolutely not,” he stammers. “You think I want you seeing me like this any more than you already have?”

Monday, October 5, 1891

Even a month after the start of term, it’s unseasonably warm in the Highlands. The heat from the dog days of summer persists well into the arrival of autumn, permeating the ancient stone walls of the castle and settling like a thin layer of fog across Hogwarts’ students.

Professor Sharp’s N.E.W.T.s-level Potions class meets promptly at nine o’clock every morning. Despite the early time slot, the dungeon-level classroom starts to become warm rather quickly thanks to the heat of two dozen bodies and six potion stations, each with their flickering flames preheating the students’ pewter cauldrons.

Your little trio is usually the last to arrive from breakfast. Sebastian sidles up to the doorway just as Professor Sharp is preparing to close it, gallantly offering to hold it open for you and Ominis as you take your time sauntering down the hall, arms linked together and chatting happily about the latest gossip to have surfaced in the Great Hall.

Then you settle in at the potions table squarely in the middle of the classroom, which you’d unabashedly claimed at the start of term. (Ominis can hear Professor Sharp most clearly here, and Sebastian, as always, gets to remain the center of attention.)

Finally, with Ominis’ dictation quill hovering over his parchment, Professor Sharp begins his daily discourse.

“Dittany, as you’ll recall, is one of the most useful herbs for creating a wide range of healing draughts,” he explains, showing off a tendril of the fiercely pink plant clipped from Professor Garlick’s greenhouse just that morning. “Can anyone give me an example of one?”

“Wiggenweld Potion, sir,” Amit chimes in.

“Very good, Mister Thakkar,” Sharp replies with an approving nod. “Another?”

Adelaide Oakes timidly raises her hand. “Essence of Dittany, sir?”

“Well done, Miss Oakes,” he murmurs. “Though not as effective as a properly-brewed bottle of Wiggenweld, dittany on its own can be used to craft a powerful restorative tonic – especially useful in preventing the occurrence of scars. Five points to Hufflepuff.”

Then Professor Sharp glances around the room expectantly. “One more, perhaps?”

“Moustache paste, sir?” Sebastian mumbles under his breath, and you quickly elbow him in the side.

“What was that, Mister Sallow?” Professor Sharp drawls.

Sebastian bites the inside of his cheek. “Er, the Antidote to Common Poisons, perhaps?”

Professor Sharp levels Sebastian with a dubious look. “I’m afraid not. While dittany is a broadly useful herb, its powers are generally limited to healing, not curing. When considering its uses, think ‘paper cut,’ not ‘influenza.’”

You raise your hand and ask, “Sir, are there any potions that do cure illnesses?”

“Yes, in fact,” Professor Sharp answers. “The Pepperup Potion will quickly resolve any common colds or cases of the flu, with the enigmatic side effect of generating steam that will pour from your ears for hours on end.”

You wince a bit. “I suppose that’s worth being over a cold in a day.”

“I should think so,” he replies with a slight grin. “So has the majority of the wizarding world since the twelfth century.”

As Professor Sharp segues into a lecture on the history of healing potions, you pull out a piece of parchment and start to take down some notes.

“Sebastian,” you hiss. “What does Pepperup Potion taste like?”

“I wouldn’t know,” he says. “I’ve only had it once, and it was a decade ago.”

You frown. “Why’s that?”

“I can’t drink it,” Sebastian says simply. “I’m allergic to bicorn horn.”

You blink, surprised. “You’re… allergic? How did you even discover that about yourself?”

“Oh, it was gruesome,” Ominis chimes in gleefully.

Sebastian rolls his eyes. “Well, I had my suspicions as a child when my parents gave me Pepperup Potion and steam poured out of my ears, nose, and mouth for a full week. Simply suffering through the cold would have been better.”

“And then?” you prompt.

“Well… in our third year, Anne and I made some Polyjuice Potion,” Sebastian admits, glancing around furtively. “We wanted to see if we could attend our classes all day as each other without anyone noticing the difference.”

“And Polyjuice Potion has bicorn horn,” you surmise.

Ominis looks delighted. “They were both in the Hospital Wing for three days, stuck as half-formed versions of each other.”

You gasp in disbelief. “That sounds awful!”

“It was the one and only time in their lives they were truly identical!” Ominis crows. “‘Sebastianne,’ we called them.”

You can’t help but giggle at Ominis’ delight while Sebastian sulks.

“In any case,” Sebastian grumbles, “I can’t take Pepperup Potion anymore, but luckily I never get sick.”

“Really?” you ask skeptically. “Everyone gets a common cold once in a while.”

“Not me,” he says proudly. “I haven’t been sick since I was a child. At the very least, if I have been sick, it must have been so mild that I wasn’t slowed down in the slightest – no need for Pepperup, thanks.”

“I’d be careful, Sebastian,” Ominis demurs. “Wouldn’t want to tempt fate, would we?”

With a lazy shrug, Sebastian turns to his potions station and begins to roughly chop some dittany leaves for a new healing potion Sharp intends to teach that afternoon. He glances up surreptitiously while you tie your hair back with one of those green ribbons you like to keep around your wrist for when the Potions classroom becomes especially humid with cauldron steam.

Though it’s unwise to lose focus while holding a knife, Sebastian has become quite skilled at multitasking while tending to his lovesick heart with stolen glances and half-formed daydreams.

He becomes so distracted staring at the column of your neck that when he suddenly feels a bit dizzy, he merely attributes it to the thick, heavy air in the room.

—

Tuesday, October 6, 1891

“You look dreadful,” you tell Sebastian cheerfully as you take a seat at breakfast.

Across from you, Sebastian looks a sight. His generally unruly hair is sticking up in every direction, and his face, which until this morning had still been sun-kissed and freckled from his time carrying out summer chores in Feldcroft, is ghostly pale.

“Cheers,” he grumbles, his head in his hands as he stares down at a plate full of untouched tattie scones.

You know for a fact they’re his favorite. In fact, you’ve stolen countless scones from the Great Hall on weekends when he treats himself to a bit of a lie-in just to make sure there are some left for when he finally emerges, hair rumpled and cheeks creased with pillow lines.

“Late night?” you ask him as you pour yourself some juice.

“The opposite, actually,” Ominis explains. “Sebastian was asleep before I even finished my Runes assignment last night, and I practically had to drag him out of bed this morning.”

“That doesn’t sound like you,” you comment, frowning. “You’re usually up half the night reading. Are you sure you’re alright?”

Sebastian shrugs weakly. “I’m fine, I just… It’s dreadfully warm in the castle, and my head is aching.”

Without thinking, you reach across the table and press the back of your hand against his forehead.

“You’re quite hot,” you mumble.

“Wh-what?” Sebastian stammers, his eyes going wide. “What did you do that for?”

“You have a fever,” you explain to him. “Old Muggle trick. And your eyes are quite glassy. I think you might be coming down with something.”

Ominis unsubtly slides further down the bench.

“I’m not sick,” Sebastian protests. “It’s just the heat, it’s making me tired.”

You eye him warily, and as if to prove that he’s not ill, Sebastian lifts one of his hoarded scones to his mouth and takes a bite.

“See?” he asks with his mouth full. “M’fine.”

You grimace. “Lovely.”

Sebastian determinedly joins you and Ominis for Potions and manages to remain upright until the very end of class. He sways just a bit as he gathers up his belongings, and you offer him your shoulder while you make your way toward the stairs to Divination.

He balks when he sees the twisting spiral steps.

“On second thought,” he mumbles, “I think I’ll skive off today and get some rest.”

“Will you be alright?” you ask him concernedly. “I can come with you…”

“No, it’s fine,” he insists. “I’ll just lie down for a bit and then I’ll be grand, I promise. Save a seat for me at dinner, will you?”

Later that evening you linger in the Great Hall until the last of dinner melts through the tables down to the kitchens below, but Sebastian never shows up.

—

Wednesday, October 7, 1891

“You do not want to go in there,” Ominis tells you warningly. “Trust me, he’s a mess.”

You scoff. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Sebastian still hasn’t emerged from his dormitory in nearly eighteen hours, and you’re starting to worry for him. Ominis had brought him back some food from dinner the night before, but according to him, it had gone untouched.

When he’d failed to show his face at breakfast, you knew you had to step in.

“He wouldn’t want you to see him like this,” Ominis tries. “Sebastian is hardly a gentleman, but some things are sacred.”

“He’s our best friend,” you remind Ominis. “I really don’t care if he’s not entirely put together.”

Ominis opens his mouth as if to say more, and then seemingly changes his mind.

“Fine,” he sighs. “I’ll tell Professor Sharp you’re tending to Sebastian, and I’ll ask Amit if you can borrow his notes.”

“You’re a lifesaver, Ominis,” you breathe, quickly pulling him in for a hug. “What would we do without you?”

“Rot in Azkaban, most likely,” he grumbles, which… is fair.

Once Ominis leaves for class, you gently knock on the seventh-year boys’ dormitory door. “Sebastian? Can I come in?”

Through the door, you hear him whine, “Go ‘way.”

“Sebastian,” you call out patiently. “Ominis told me you’re sick, and you haven’t gotten out of bed in too long. I’m coming in.”

He protests weakly from his bed as you open the door and slip inside, carefully pressing it closed behind you. As you’d expected, his other roommates have all gone for the day. Only Sebastian remains – or at least, you think it’s Sebastian.

All you can see sticking out from underneath the pile of pilfered blankets on his bed is a mess of curly, brown hair.

“Oh, dear,” you sigh.

“Jus’ leave me alone,” he mumbles from beneath the covers. “...I think I’m sick.”

“Finally facing the music, are you?” you tease him, taking a seat at the foot of his bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Like death warmed over,” he groans. “I’ve never been this ill before.”

“Should I take you to see Nurse Blainey?” you ask him. “I know you can’t have Pepperup Potion, but perhaps she has something else that would help.”

“No,” he sighs. “Ominis already sent for her, she said I’m a dafty and I’ll be fine in a coupl’a days.”

You bite back a laugh at Sebastian’s deteriorating accent; for how posh he usually sounds, apparently that rougher Feldcroft vernacular tends to slip out when he’s feeling poorly.

“Poor lamb,” you croon. “Can I do anything for you? Have you eaten?”

“M’not hungry,” he sulks. “Ominis made me drink some water before he left.”

You hum softly as you start to slowly pull his piles of blankets down low enough that you can see his face. Quickly you realize that Ominis had been exaggerating – Sebastian doesn’t look entirely a mess.

His eyes are a bit wet and glassy, you observe, and his nose is bright red from persistent rubbing with a handkerchief abandoned on his bedside table. He looks a little swollen beneath his jaw, but otherwise, he looks like he’d merely stayed awake all night, and you’ve seen a sleepless Sebastian countless times throughout your friendship.

There’s a bit of stubble along his jaw that you’ve never noticed before; it’s the same rich brown color as his wild, unkempt hair.

(Honestly, how dare he still look handsome even when he’s ill.)

“Hello, you,” you tease him in a voice just above a whisper. “Was beginning to wonder if you were even there under all those blankets.”

“I’m cold,” he complains.

“That’s the fever talking,” you tell him. “You should probably–”

But before you can tell him that he’d be better off with less covers, the blankets shift lower and you realize he’s not wearing a pajama shirt.

(Your disobedient mind immediately raises the question of whether he’s wearing anything at all, and subsequently, if you could get away with having a look. Immediately you scold that particular thought away.)

“Er, you should… don’t overheat yourself,” you finish lamely.

He’s flushed down to his chest, fever-pale skin burning red where the blankets had been piled on top of him. You discover that he’s got a thin smattering of hair here, too; he’s grown into the body of a man much sooner than many of your classmates, you imagine.

Sebastian watches as you swallow, your own eyes raking down his body.

“You’re missing class,” he observes. “You never miss class.”

“It’ll be alright, just this once,” you say softly.

For a moment you aren’t sure if you’re talking about missing class or being in Sebastian’s bed.

Then Sebastian suddenly starts to cough and hastily reaches for his handkerchief. He sounds utterly pathetic as he coughs and groans in discomfort, rolling onto his side and looking for all the world like a kicked puppy.

“My chest hurts,” he whimpers. “I’ve been coughing all night.”

You reach across him and gently stroke the backs of your fingers down the middle of his chest. His skin is noticeably hot to the touch and damp with sweat.

“I can put some Muggle herbs in a warm compress for your chest,” you offer. “I know they’re not as effective as a potion would be, but it always helped me feel better when I was a child.”

“Alright, I suppose that’d be nice,” he mumbles.

But when you move to stand, he quickly snags your wrist.

“Wait,” he says. “Er… where would you go? For how long?”

“Well, I’ll have to go see if Nurse Blainey has any, and if not I can go look at the edge of the Forbidden Forest,” you explain. “It might take a bit of time, I’m afraid.”

“Then, just… stay,” he whines. “Keep me company? That’s better than some plain old herbs.”

You shift onto the bed, curling up on your side behind Sebastian. It’s a tight fit, and you’re dangerously close to falling off the edge, but you’re able to leave enough space between your bodies that you can make the argument that it’s friendly, and it’s fine.

“Can I rub your back?” you ask him softly. “It might help with the soreness.”

You have no idea if it will help his aching body, but you’re eager to try it nonetheless.

“Go on,” Sebastian rasps. “I… I might fall asleep.”

“You should,” you croon. “Your body’s telling you that you need to rest.”

“S’pathetic,” he grumbles. “I never get sick.”

“You had a good run,” you tease him. “But the common cold comes for us all eventually.”

He falls silent after that, his leanly muscled arms curled around a pillow while you stroke your hand up and down the length of his back. He’s so warm, and you’re a bit anxious about letting him ride out a fever as long as he has, but soon he drifts off to sleep.

You learn two things while he rests: he snores when he’s on his back, and he frowns whenever you take your hands off of him.

—

Thursday, October 8, 1891

Ominis had managed to talk you into returning to your own dormitory for the night, promising to look after Sebastian while you got some rest. When you return the following morning, you find him in even worse condition.

His sheets are bunched down to his hips, and he’s still bare from the waist up. His entire body is covered in a thin layer of sweat, and the bags underneath his eyes have worsened – despite how much rest he’s getting, he seems more fatigued than ever.

“What happened?!” you ask Ominis.

“He’s had a fever all night,” Ominis says grimly, looking just as worn out as Sebastian. “He hasn’t eaten a thing, and I’ve barely been able to get him to drink some water.”

“Oh, Seb,” you sigh, taking his clammy hand and resting it in your lap as you sit on the edge of the bed. “You poor thing.”

“I think I’m dying,” he rasps. “This is it, right?”

“Hush now, there’s no need to be so dramatic,” you gently scold him, pressing your hand to his forehead. “You’re quite warm, but I’m not worried about your imminent demise.”

“I’m disgusting,” he groans. “I can’t stop coughing, I’m sweating everywhere, I feel like I’m going to be sick but there’s nothing to–”

He cuts himself off with several dry, pathetic coughs.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” you tell him firmly. “Ominis is going to go to class and come back this afternoon with some Muggle medicinals. In the meantime, I’m going to help you eat a bit of food and have a bath.”

“N-no, absolutely not,” he stammers. “You think I want you seeing me like this any more than you already have?”

“You’ll feel better,” you promise him. “And I swear I won’t, er… look, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

You argue back and forth until Sebastian, utterly depleted of his typical stubbornness, loses energy and gives in. Ominis promises to stop by J. Pippin’s to see if the shopkeeper has any draughts suitable for Sebastian’s allergies before leaving to go to class, and you help Sebastian get out of bed with his arm around your shoulders and your own around his waist.

(He’s got pants on, thank Merlin, but you have to help him into a pair of pajamas to make the walk to the Slytherin baths.)

Sebastian balks when you enter the boys’ baths, but you both quickly learn there are no enchantments in place to keep you from joining him. You offer him an arm to lean on while he takes off his pajamas and coughs – this time pointedly – for you to turn around while he sinks into the lukewarm bath you’d drawn.

“This does feel nice,” he finally says once he’s settled in the opaque, murlap-scented water.

“Good,” you say, hoping he doesn’t notice how your voice has gone up a bit higher than usual. “I’ll be back in a few moments with some fresh pajamas for you.”

“I’ll try not to drown while you’re gone,” he drawls, and even though he still sounds exhausted, you smile to yourself knowing that the bath is already helping him feel more like his usual self.

Hogwarts’ house elves were exceptionally fast in tidying up the boys’ dormitory while the two of you were out, so when you finally lead a clean, dry Sebastian back to his room, you’re thrilled to find freshly laundered sheets and a new pair of pillows waiting for him.

“Gods, I love magic,” he groans as he collapses into bed.

You stay all afternoon and into the evening. Ominis returns shortly before dinner with a brew from Parry Pippin himself, similar to the Pepperup Potion but with cinnamon instead of powdered bicorn horn.

(Sebastian seems to emit thin tendrils of steam straight from the top of his head after he drinks it, but he perks up all the same.)

Feenky herself brings a tray of soup and some leftover scones from breakfast once Sebastian regains his appetite. While he eats, he tells you about how he used to sit with Anne during the summers when she was particularly ill from her curse.

“At the time, I wondered if my being there was more of a help or a hindrance,” he says ruefully. “She was… hard to read, then. I couldn’t tell if she was annoyed by me or appreciated me staying.”

You pause before shyly asking, “Am I helping? By being here?”

“Of course,” he says without thinking.

“Then I’m sure you were helping Anne, even when she was annoyed,” you tell him reassuringly. “That’s all we ever want to do really, isn’t it? Help the ones we love?”

Sebastian glances up at his tray with an inscrutable expression on his face. His eyes are still glassy and he’s a bit peaky, but the cinnamon-laced, not-quite-Pepperup Potion has restored some of the usual warmth in his gaze.

“Right,” he echoes. “Help the ones we love.”

You end up staying the night in the boys’ dormitory. Only Ominis knows you’re there, as he draws the curtains around the both of you before the boys’ other roommates return from the common room. Given that Sebastian seems to be feeling better already, it’s not strictly necessary.

But it feels nice all the same.

—

Friday, October 9, 1891

Sebastian’s fever finally broke during the night.

When you wake up he’s wrapped around you from behind, one of his legs jammed between yours with his arm curled possessively around your waist.

You’re sweltering, but he’s cool to the touch.

“Sebastian,” you whisper, but he doesn’t answer.

Judging by the way sunlight pours over the top of Sebastian’s bed curtains, it’s well past when you’d usually wake up during the school week. You can’t hear any other snoring boys around you, either.

“Sebastian,” you hiss. “Wake up.”

He groans tiredly into your hair as his arm tightens around your waist. “No.”

“N-no?!” you sputter. “It’s morning! We… we should, er.”

You trail off when you realize you aren’t quite sure what you should be doing. Evidently you’ve missed breakfast, and you’ve likely missed the start of Potions for the third day in a row. Professor Sharp will have no choice but to give you a detention; just as well, you suppose, as you can use the time to make up what you’ve missed.

But now that the damage is done…

“How are you feeling?” you ask him softly, your eyes still fixed on the green curtains in front of your face.

“Loads better,” he says, only this time his lips are pressed against the sensitive spot behind your ear.

You gasp as he rolls more of his weight toward you, pressing you more firmly into the mattress.

“Sebastian…” you sigh.

“I had a dream about you last night,” he confesses, his voice barely above a whisper beneath your ear. “I’ve heard Pepperup Potion can give one strange dreams.”

“St-strange?” you whisper back. “Why was it a strange dream?”

“I suppose it wasn’t really ‘strange,’” he acquiesces. “But it was nice. Really nice.”

“Tell me about it?” you ask breathlessly.

“Perhaps I’ll show you instead,” he asks, and when you nod, he slides his hand down to your hip and turns you onto your back.

Then quite suddenly he’s leaning over you, one knee still between your thighs. He rests on his elbows so his face is just centimeters from yours, and it’s the first time you’ve gotten a good look at him since the boys put out last night’s fire.

Sebastian looks so much better. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes are clear and bright, and the sickly sheen of sweat he’d worn for days is entirely gone. (His hair is still a bird’s nest, but that’s to be expected.)

“We were like this,” he tells you.

“Were we just talking?” you ask him, but you’re met with only silence.

After a beat, he asks you, “Why have you been so kind to me this week?”

“You’re my best friend,” you tell him softly. “I – I wanted to help you feel better.”

“Is that all I am?” he asks. “Am I simply your friend?”

You bite your lip hesitantly and his gaze dips down to your mouth, his brown eyes nearly black in the soft morning light.

“Do you want to kiss me, Sebastian?” you ask.

Rather than answering, he surprises you by leaning down and pressing a sweet kiss to the corner of your mouth. Then he lifts one of his hands to gently tip your face toward his, cradling your jaw while he deepens the kiss into one that’s hardly sweet at all.

It feels like it’s perhaps the first time in days that Sebastian has felt hunger.

You gasp his name into his mouth and then he’s the one biting your lip, just a quick graze of his teeth before he soothes your ensuing whine with another slow kiss. He shifts his weight onto his hip to rest on the mattress beside you, using that leg between yours to coax you into lying next to him. He rewards your body’s assent with a filthy kiss – the kind you’ve only read about in those Muggle romance novels you hide under your pillow, the kind where the hero kisses the girl with his tongue in her mouth and his hand in her blouse.

“Seb,” you moan.

“I didn’t know,” he confesses against your lips.

“Didn’t know what?” you whine.

“I didn’t know you loved me until last night,” he says, pressing his forehead against yours.

You’re so distracted by how red and swollen his lips look that you nearly miss him saying, “You stayed with me all week, you held me, practically healed me, and I still didn’t know.”

“Of course I love you,” you tell him.

“You love Ominis, you love Poppy,” he counters. “This – us – is different. Right?”

And the truth is, you would have done anything you’d done for Sebastian for any one of your friends. You would have helped Poppy into a warm bath and back into bed, and you would have sat at Ominis’ bedside all day and torn up pieces of scone to float on the surface of his soup.

But you would not have let them press you into their bedsheets and trace their lips along your neck, and right now Sebastian is eagerly doing both.

“Yes,” you whimper, both in answer to his question and as a plea for more.

“I love you, too,” he sighs against your jaw. “I have for ages, and I didn’t want you to see me all pathetic and poorly, but you still love me anyway.”

“I’ve loved you through worse,” you quietly remind him.

He nips at your throat for that remark; you’ve both agreed to speak of your fifth year as little as possible. Truly, the only reason you’d ever bring it up now is to remind Sebastian that you’ve long since made your choice – him, over duty and the law and perhaps even reason.

“Stay with me,” he pleads. “We have all morning, we have the dormitory to ourselves. Let me take care of you now.”

He pulls your thigh across his own and tangles his fingers in your sleep-mussed hair, holding you against his warm, bare chest.

“That’s tempting,” you breathe. “B-but perhaps we should check with Nurse Blainey, to see if you’re ready to return to–”

You cut yourself off with a gasp as he grinds his hips against yours. There’s no mistaking that he’s aroused, and that alone convinces you that he must be feeling well – you’re positive that he would’ve been too weak for this type of debauchery yesterday morning even if you’d gotten fully nude before him and begged.

“Trust me, I feel excellent,” he moans into your mouth. “Love, please.”

You don’t come up for air for a long while after that. By the time Ominis stops by during lunchtime to check on Sebastian, he nearly trips over your skirt, hastily tossed near the doorway.

“I take it you’re feeling better,” he deadpans.

“That potion of yours worked like a charm, Ominis,” Sebastian drawls. “Cinnamon, who would have thought?”

“I don’t suppose I mentioned that Muggles find cinnamon to be an organic aphrodisiac?” Ominis says innocently. “At least, that’s what Mister Pippin said. He told me you might have some rather amorous dreams while you recover.”

“No, I think you forgot to mention that,” Sebastian replies just as innocently.

Ominis simply hums and says, “Well, now that you’ve been made aware, I’ll be off to Herbology. I’d recommend locking the door if our dear friend is going to be keeping you company this afternoon, Sebastian.”

You’re too embarrassed to say a word, but Sebastian cheerfully thanks him as he pulls the door shut and reaches for his wand on his bedside table to magically lock it behind him.

“We’ve become menaces,” you whine as he rolls on top of you once more.

Sebastian grins wickedly down at you. “Not yet we haven’t, but thank Merlin we’ve got all afternoon.”

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fic #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow fic #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian x reader #sebastian x mc #my fic #man flu sebastian :(((

2K notes · View notes

liliacamethyst · 1 year

Text

Playtime with Miguel O'Hara

Miguel O'Hara x SpiderSun Reader

summary: Miguel begging you to cum. That's it. That's the plot.

warnings: dom/sub, edging, blowjob, smut, 18+ content

a/n: Hey everyone, apologies for my recent absence, I've been buried in exam prep. But don't worry, the 4th part of the web series is on its way soon! In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this little story I've had tucked away in my drafts. Remember to look after yourselves and I'll be back before you know it with even more requests and Miguel fics. Love you all and don't forget to stay hydrated!

“Care to play a game?” you ask, as you take steps closer to him. You can see his pride wrestling with his intrigue. “What’s the game?” he asks. You smile wide at him and without warning, you shoot a string of web that wraps around him.

“Simple,” you say, “You have to stay still while I…” you lean in and plant a soft kiss on his cheek, then his jawline down to his throat. His eyes widen.

Miguel tries to hide his delight. “Is that all?” he feigns nonchalance.

“Oh no,” you tease, “there’s more.” You lean in again and brush your lips against his, only to pull away at the last second. The tension between you both is electric.

You wrap more webbing around him, leaving him barely able to move. “Aren’t you going to ask nicely to be set free?” you ask with a smirk.

His pride is legendary, but so is his wit. “No. Yo no ruego." (I don't beg.)"he retorts. He squirms lightly but his face is stoic as ever.

You lean in, your lips a breath away from his, and whisper, “We'll see about that.”

With a flicker in your eyes, you suddenly whip out a sharp nail file and make a quick, precise cut on the crotch of Miguel's suit, freeing his big member. The blue fabric splits apart, revealing his already hard cock.

You gently glide your finger down the exposed area, and then look up at him with an innocent smile. Despite the unexpected action, Miguel remains unfazed, the moonlight reflecting in his eyes. “ You just had to ask, mi amor" he quips, his voice laced with humor.

A chuckle escapes your lips. "I'm just checking for hidden weapons, Spider. You never know with you." You kneel down, looking up at him with a mischievous smile.

You delicately trail your tongue up and down his length, punctuating your actions with playful, kittenish licks on his leaking tip. When you decide that you've teased him enough, you take his entire manhood into your mouth, your cheeks hollowing.

You can sense his intense, half-lidded gaze on you, accompanied by a soft growl escaping his lips.

He looks down at you, his chest heaving, sweat dripping off his brow.

With every head bob, he grunts louder, his teeth gritted and sweat dripping down his face.

“Mierda, mi sol. I’m close.” You could tell, his balls are tightening in your hand and his moans are growing louder, that was always his tell. But then without a warning and with one final plop you release him from your mouth.

His eyes shoot open, the intense concentration breaking momentarily for a glare. “What the hell. What do you think you’re doing, Sunny?” his voice is strained, he thrusts his hips forward to get even a tiny bit of friction. Meanwhile, you are already gracefully risen to your feet and slowly lean closer, your breath grazing his ear. "Beg for it," you whisper. Miguel appears perplexed for a fleeting moment, stuttering, “I... I...”

Then, gathering himself, his voice becomes firm as he declares, “I do not beg.”

You grab his balls gently with one hand, while with the other, you tenderly and painfully slowly trace your fingers down his length. In response, a deep, primal growl escapes his throat.

With a raised eyebrow and a faint, teasing smirk, you inquire, "Huh? What was that?"

He seems to be in an internal struggle, trying desperately to retain control. His voice comes out as a soft whisper, “Please, let me cum.”

But your playful side is not quite satisfied. You continue your feathery caresses near his overstimulated tip, replying, “I didn’t quite catch that.”

He makes an attempt to jerk his hips forward, but you assertively tighten your hold. A resigned look crosses his face before he finally capitulates. “Alright, you fucking win. Please, mi sol, please make me cum?”

At this, you offer a wink of approval and once again take your place kneeling in front of him. “Now was that so hard, Spider-boy?”

2K notes · View notes

jjbalice · 23 days

Text

Martyr's Folly

Summary: Yunho helps and comforts the reader after they've accidentally cut too deep.

Genre: a hurt/comfort Yunho x reader oneshot

Word count: 4.81k (15-20 mins)

Trigger warnings: semi-descriptive self-harm (blood, cuts, use of blades - nothing too crazy, though, don't worry!), panicking, crying, mentions of relapsing, lots of pet names, nicknames, and physical affection lol, Yunho is a blessing

A/N: This fic is pretty personal since I've been struggling with not feeling valid enough because of the way I SH, which isn't the stereotypical kind you see in movies and such. In a way, it's an attempt at scaring myself from buying any actual blades mixed in with the comfort I crave whenever I slip up, I guess.

Baby cuts. Cat scratches. Damage dealt within the epidermis and the higher half of the dermis. Whatever you want to call it.

For a few weeks now, that's exactly what has been slowly but steadily appearing on your feet and lower calves. Or re-appearing, rather. A bad habit from the past coming back to haunt you all over again for no apparent reason.

No but seriously, what reason for doing this is there? You're happy, you have a stable part-time job on the side of your studies that are also going great, and an incredible boyfriend with whom you've just celebrated a 6-month anniversary. No real issues in your life as far as you can see.

Sure, sometimes you get caught up in a fight with your friends or parents, or even with Yunho, or maybe some of your insecurities hit extra strong on some days. But all of that is normal, right? Just some passing obstacles that get resolved in a few days tops.

So why are you here, at 3 am, staring at the husk of a person in the mirror? Why is your head so empty yet incomprehensibly full at the same time? Why are your hands all fidgety, getting ready to strike any moment?

Truth be told, you have no clue.

This was supposed to be a lovely weekend for you. You got off work early on Friday, securing enough time to pack your stuff at your dorm before heading to Yunho's apartment for a sleepover. He's been trying to convince you to move in with him after your anniversary, saying how it would be both cheaper and closer to your university. Both of those arguments are true, and yet you remain stubborn, wanting to keep your independence for just a bit longer.

Alas, Yunho has no choice but to respect your decision and settle for weekend sleepovers in the meantime.

And even those are great! The two of you get to talk for hours and play games, cook dinner together or order in and watch TV... Mainly, though, you get to cuddle and snuggle to your hearts' content (and maybe even do a bit more than that, if the opportunity and want arises).

That's also one of the main reasons for your hesitance over this whole... relapse thing.

Because of Yunho and his affectionate nature towards you, hiding the traces of your renewed habits became much more difficult. You couldn't cut where you used to before, all of those areas feeling way too exposed now.

And so, you settled on the bottom of your legs. Anything a pair of longer socks could easily hide without too much questioning from your boyfriend. Let's just say your feet are cold all the time now, even though summer's just barely starting to end.

Is it satisfying to harm there? No, not at all. The area is too small and angular, and the pain-to-mark ratio is nowhere near optimal. Everything feels too bony and stings more than other places, and all you get from it are the faintest of scratches.

But anything to at least partially quell the urge, right?

Well, not exactly.

If the razor blade hidden within the confines of your duffel bag was any proof, your methods weren't exactly effective.

You've never used an actual razor blade before, never even planned on trying it since you knew about the dangers of using it and how everything could get out of hand within seconds. Sure, the scissors and other sharp objects you've used until now weren't exactly perfect either, but they didn't put you at as much of a risk of going to the ER.

...So why did you buy the blade then?

Well, it was pretty cheap, first of all. You could just buy it, think about using it, and then throw it out without feeling too guilty about it, right? Not to mention how it helped you feel more valid about harming, even if you haven't used it yet. Self-harm is always depicted as razor blades on wrists, so even just owning one somehow helped you feel a bit more valid amidst the disappointing scratches on your leg.

It's been a week since you've bought said blade (or 5 blades rather, as they came in a pack - what a steal!). During that week, not much has happened to it. Right after you paid and got your receipt, you tossed the paper into a nearby trash can and stashed the pack of blades into your wallet. And there they were even later tonight, as you quietly crept to your bag to retrieve them, careful not to wake Yunho up.

But let's rewind back a bit. Back to where today's misfortune started.

Just like with everything else lately, you don't know why the urge to indulge washed over you specifically tonight. You and Yunho have spent such a fun evening together, lounging around and enjoying each other in whatever way felt right.

And yet, the moment the lights were turned off and your boyfriend spooned you from behind, holding you close while his breathing slowly evened out, it was as if something had shifted in the air. An overwhelming sense of emptiness washed over you, making you feel both completely dull and overstimulated. Yunho's arms around you felt both like an anchor and a vice, the opposing feelings adding even more to the already rising chaos in your mind. You were suddenly overly aware of every part of your body, as if your own skin was calling out to you.

You didn't want to.

You knew you had to.

As gently and quietly as you could, you unwrapped yourself from Yunho's embrace and got up. He let out a soft sigh at the loss of contact, and you had to admit, you already mourned it too.

Sneaking into the bathroom, you closed the door before turning on the lights. Avoiding the reflection in the mirror, you began searching through the cabinet under the sink. You didn't want to see yourself right now. If anything, it would just add to the confusing conflict raging within you, and you really didn't need that.

Rummaging through each shelf one more time, you let out a frustrated huff. There was nothing you could use. Well, save for the expensive-looking razor Yunho owned, but you really didn't have the patience or coherency to take apart your boyfriend's belongings.

It's time, then.

The return to the bedroom was a bit stressful, as you couldn't decide between searching through your duffel bag there or bringing it with you to the bathroom. Both options seemed too noisy right now, causing you to awkwardly loom over the bag for a few moments, chewing nervously on your bottom lip.

In the end, you decided to just risk it, crouching down to begin unzipping the top. Strangely enough, you kind of hoped Yunho would hear it and wake up. Maybe the shock of being caught would stop you for the time being and you could just go back to bed.

To both your luck and dismay, Yunho didn't wake up, his biggest reaction being the slightest stir of the sheets.

With your wallet in hand, you walked back to the bathroom, your steps a bit bolder this time. Now that you knew Yunho wouldn't wake up so easily, you didn't pay as much mind to the noise you were making.

In a weird way, you were upset. Upset he didn't wake up. Upset he didn't magically realize what your new obsession with socks could possibly mean. Upset he wasn't there to stop you right now.

But along with the upset came a strange feeling of calm. Joy, even.

He doesn't know. Nobody has any idea you're doing this right now. Nobody cares enough to find out anyway. You're free to reign over your body as you please, especially if it will finally shut down the confusing mess of emotions boiling within you.

It will, right?

It's 3 am. You're staying over at Yunho's apartment and he's currently sleeping in the bedroom next-door. You finally gather enough courage to look at yourself in the mirror, but it's rather disappointing. The shell standing in front of you doesn't bring up any emotions anymore. It doesn't even look like you, you think. Maybe this isn't you, after all. That's what you like to tell yourself whenever the moment is over, that this isn't actually the real you harming yourself. This is someone else taking hold of you and your upcoming actions.

You sit down on the cold bathroom floor, a razor blade in hand. When did you unpack them? The small paper packaging and 4 other blades are lying right next to you. Huh. Guess you did just now.

You don't bother taking off the socks. A precious thing like this shouldn't be used in such a shitty spot anyways.

Then again, you also don't exactly want to die right now, so the wrists are off-limits. Sure, you want to feel more valid and that place is the most stereotypical one to cut, but you're already holding the blade you thought you'd never dare use, so that's enough "progress" for now.

Now that you think about it, the thighs sound pretty scary too. You've always heard of some major arteries being located in the thigh. Perhaps you shouldn't risk it there then. Not yet, at least.

And so, like a coward, you move back to your lower leg.

To your defense, you do go considerably higher than usual! You pick a nice spot that's vaguely in the middle of the side of your leg, where your shins and calves would meet.

Deep breaths. You can do this. Just brace yourself and-

...

Oh fuck.

No, no, no nonono-

You knew the risks, you knew you should watch out for the pressure when using a razor blade for the first time since it's so much sharper than any pair of scissors you own, but somehow even the lessened pressure you put was too much.

Within seconds, blood started flowing to the surface. You dropped the blade, making it fly in a random direction as your hands trembled.

Your eyes welled with tears as, despite the blood, you could see a gash way deeper than any cut you'd ever made until now; you could literally see two parts of your skin split-

You're gonna throw up. Or faint. Or both. Oh fuck.

The first drops of blood fell onto the tiles just as your own tears pooled over. Your chest heaved with your labored breathing. You didn't know what to do.

Should you go to the ER? Will it stop on its own? Should you wake Yunho up? Oh god, you should probably wake Yunho up, shouldn't you.

Wiping your tear-stained face as best as you could with your shirt, you crawled over to the bathroom door. You were too scared to walk, afraid you'd faint if you stood up so suddenly.

As you sat by the door, another sob wracked through you. You couldn't calm down, you were too scared of what might happen if you didn't take care of the gash in time. And yet, you couldn't help but fear what might happen if you woke Yunho up. Now that you think about it, maybe it will just stop on its own and you can hide it for the rest of the weekend and then you'll just make up a story of how you got into an accident at work and-

One look at the trail of blood behind you was enough to get your hands on the door handle, pulling the door open on your second try. The door handle flew back up with a loud bang as you dropped back down, but the door was open at last. You pulled it fully open from where you sat, taking a few shallow breaths once you did so.

"...Y/N?"

Now. Now he wakes up. Not at any point before you could have done this. Now.

In the back of your mind, a strange feeling of anger bubbled up. Somehow, you wanted to blame Yunho for not getting to you sooner. But the second you realized what your brain was trying to do, you felt another pang of nausea hit you.

Yunho was not to blame in the slightest. This is all you. You started this, you went through with it, and now you're crawling back to him for help. Don't even try to put any blame on him, no matter how much easier it would make this whole thing to stomach.

"Y/N, are you okay?"

Right, he was awake. The shuffling of the sheets coming from the bedroom confirmed as much.

You tried to call out to him but choked on another sob instead.

All of your fear of being seriously hurt and needing help immediately shifted, transforming into the most heart-wrenching wave of guilt imaginable. Just what have you done? Why are you burdening someone else with this? Are you really going to make him see this?

Your thoughts were quickly interrupted by the first footstep. All the raging panic hit you anew, making you speak before you could think.

"W-wait!" You cried, an unknown feeling of desperation clutching your chest. "Please, please don't come here, please."

To your surprise, the footsteps actually stopped.

"...I'm waiting, but please tell me what's going on," Yunho replied with obvious unease.

Well, uh. You haven't exactly thought this far, have you?

"O-okay, I, well, I," you stumbled over your words, trying to work through the mush of your brain to come up with anything even barely comprehensible. "I did something really bad and I think I need your help but you have to promise not to be mad. I don't know what to do but please don't be upset."

Selfish. That's what you were. Even amongst all this chaos and pain you were about to drag Yunho into, all you could think about was saving your own face and evading consequences.

"Y/N, I'm sorry but I'm coming in," Yunho suddenly announced, and the footsteps resumed. "I need to see if you're okay, I promise I won't be mad."

There was no escaping it now. You could only brace yourself for the worst, whatever that would entail.

Two feet stood before your hunched-over form. You didn't dare look up, you didn't dare see what he was feeling.

As carefully as he could, Yunho stepped around you and further into the bathroom. You heard the scraping of metal across tiles before the cabinet doors opened. A towel, a first aid kit, and a medium-sized, colorful box appeared before you, along with your boyfriend in his cozy pajamas. Still, you didn't dare look up.

Wordlessly, he propped your injured leg up as gently as he could, as if he was handling the finest china in the world. Placing the dark grey towel under it, blood immediately rolled down and seeped into the material.

"Okay, this might seem a bit weird, but just- I'm not an expert or anything, far from it, really, but-"

As Yunho rambled nervously, you watched his hands tear open a pack of pads. Ever since your sleepovers became a more regular thing, he'd made sure to keep some in his apartment at all times in case of an emergency. Never had he thought he'd use them in this type of emergency, though.

You watched in confusion as he pulled out one of the pads, opening it and double-checking which side was sticky and which was dry. Unable to hide his worried grimace as he got closer to the wound, he pressed the cotton pad against it.

"I- I probably have something better in the first aid kit to stop the bleeding, but while I look through it, just hold that down to the cut, okay?"

You nodded weakly, deciding not to ask any questions and just let your boyfriend try to fix you. Not that you could say much anyway, not with the way your throat had dried and closed up from all the anxiety.

You silently kept watch as Yunho fumbled through the red bag, noticing the slight tremors in his hands. When you looked at his face, however, it appeared surprisingly neutral.

Ah, so he was trying to stay calm to not worry you any further, but on the inside, he was freaking out just as much as you, if not more. Great. You didn't think you could feel more guilt than you already had, but guess not.

"I'm sorry it's taking so long," he spoke up again, "Mingi would get injured all the time before he'd moved out - you know how clumsy he can get - and I, uh, haven't exactly taken the time to re-organize everything. Sorry."

Your lips twitched into the smallest of smiles, along with a hushed "It's okay, babe".

Yunho's eyes shot up at your words, mirroring your soft smile with his own. Pausing his search for just a second, he leaned over and planted a quick, reassuring kiss on your forehead. "You're right. I'll take good care of you, don't worry. After the first accident Mingi had here, I bought some steri-strips... They should still be around here somewhere, but we threw the original packaging away, so they're just a bit hard to find."

You hummed in understanding, hoping you could ease at least some of his worries by showing him you were doing alright.

Somehow, the moment Yunho appeared in the doorway, all of your previous panic stopped. It was as if through his presence, the jumbled mess of worries surrounding you had split into two. Yunho had graciously shouldered the worries about your physical state, while you focused on keeping his mental well-being in check. All of the fear about his reaction to this situation as a whole was still there, of course, but for the time being, you'd managed to shove them to the back of your mind. It was something to worry about later, when the two of you could calm down and properly talk to each other.

For now, all you had to do was just worry about Yunho while he worried about you.

"Finally!" Yunho sighed in relief, fishing out two small packs of steri-strips. "Okay. Let's do this, then."

But as he shuffled closer to your leg again, he paused.

"Wait, I'm sorry for assuming," he began while opening the first set, "but you don't want to go to the hospital, right? They'd obviously do a much better job than me, but since you said you needed my help, I just, I guessed that- you know. Should we go to the hospital instead?"

You immediately shook your head no, making Yunho smile faintly, glad to have read you right and that he wasn't wasting time trying to play hero.

You were thankful he didn't insist on taking you to the hospital. You knew it would probably be for the best, but right now, in your state, you couldn't even fathom going. You were terrified just crawling to the door to beg for Yunho's help, let alone driving to the opposite part of town to have complete strangers examine you.

"Right then," Yunho sighed, mentally steeling himself for the next step. "Can you feel your leg fine? Feeling faint or anything?"

You just shook your head, slowly easing the pressure you held on the cut. "I'm okay, I think. Just a little shaken up still."

Yunho nodded thoughtfully, helping you unstick the bloody pad from your hand. Luckily, it seemed that most of the bleeding had stopped, at least for now. "It's okay, I'm a bit out of it too."

"Sorry for making you do this," you whispered sincerely, but Yunho quickly stopped you again.

"Don't be sorry, Y/N. I know you didn't mean to do this. You wouldn't have called for me like that if things went down the way you wanted them to."

You couldn't bring yourself to say anything after that, feeling your throat tighten as a fresh wave of tears rushed to your eyes.

You averted your gaze as Yunho began cleaning the area as gently as he could before placing the strips down, helping hold the wound shut. Four strips helped the cut close up, and then two were laid on top of them to help everything stay put. Despite no professional medical training, you swear your boyfriend could do anything like an expert first-try. Well, considering him saying something about treating Mingi's injuries, he might have actually trained a bit already. Either way, you could feel your nerves easing a considerable bit at the sight of the gash finally closed-up.

"There we go," Yunho said contently, giving your other leg a gentle pat. "Just stay put a little longer, okay? I'm gonna clean up a bit in here."

Oh, that's right.

You were so out of it you completely forgot about the blades scattered around, the blood dripping across the floor, the towel, pads, first aid kit, everything.

Closing your eyes, you tried to focus on your breathing. It has mostly returned to normal, but you could still feel a lot of tightness in your chest.

"Hey now, don't go falling asleep on me, okay?" You heard Yunho calling out to you a few meters away, making you peek one eye open.

He was kneeling by the sink, scrubbing at the dirty tiles. When he noticed you looking at him, he flashed you a quick, comforting smile.

"'m not falling asleep," you protested, "I'm just resting a bit, sorry."

"It's okay, I was just a little worried."

Yeah. That's definitely one way to put how Yunho was likely feeling right now.

But that could be dwelled on and discussed later. For now, all you had to do was sit still, breathe deep, and stay strong.

...

"You still with me, princess?"

You opened your eyes again, this time to find Yunho sitting in front of you. You don't know how much time has passed, too focused on pacing your breaths, saying the alphabet forwards and backwards, thinking about your favorite TV show moments - anything to calm down, really.

When he saw you were still fully awake, he pulled out a gauze bandage with a small smile. "We should be fine with just the steri-strips, but let me wrap this up for you to be one hundred percent safe, okay?"

You let him do as he pleased, trusting his judgment better than your own at the moment. As he bandaged your leg, you looked around the room, noticing everything was back the way it was before you'd entered.

"I put the, uh, the blades away for now," Yunho continued, a nervous edge to his tone. "I didn't want to just throw them away without permission, but leaving them out here in the open didn't seem like a great idea either. Sorry if it seems distrustful, it's just... you know."

"You're scared I might do it again," you finished for him, making him nod hesitantly. "It's okay, I get it."

It was honestly surprising how easy it was to talk to Yunho about this. Maybe it's because he already saw the worst of it, maybe it was the way he took such gentle care of you, or maybe it was just his entire attitude about this so far. Caring, non-judgemental, open to listen.

"Alright then, I think we're done here. Let's get you to bed, shall we?"

Before you could respond, you were picked up by a pair of strong, warm hands. You wanted to object for a split second, but on second thought, maybe it was in your best interest not to move too much right now.

A few moments later, you were laid back down on the bed, a soft kiss pressed to your temple before you were shrouded in your blanket. With a whispered promise of returning again, Yunho rushed back to turn off the lights and close the door, enveloping the two of you in darkness. You waited a second, two, and then the bed dipped behind you with a quiet creak.

"Come here." Yunho's arms wrapped around your waist from behind again, holding you closer than before. "Is this okay? Should I give you space?"

"It's fine, Yuyu."

His chest shook with a small chuckle. "Oh come on, don't call me that right now." He somehow snuggled up even closer to you, pressing his face into your neck. "I'm already emotional enough as is."

A beat or two of silence passed between the two of you before he spoke up again.

"Was this," Yunho paused, hesitating for a second, "was this the first time you did something like this, or are there... more?"

You sighed. "Well, this was the first time I've messed up like this and used an actual razor blade, but in general? There's been a few instances, yeah. Most of them happened years ago, but lately, it started up again."

Yunho stayed quiet this time. As the silence stretched on, you began to grow worried. Is this the moment where he gets mad at you?

A sniffle broke through the air, quickly followed by another. The hold around your waist tightened.

"It's the socks, isn't it?" Yunho barely choked out, voice trembling.

Never have you felt so guilty in your life before.

"I thought it was weird, I wanted to ask you about it, I really did," he sobbed, burying his wet face further into your shirt. "I didn't want to make you feel bad about it if it was genuinely just something you preferred, so I held back, but it worried me anyway. I should have asked so much sooner."

"Yu..." You tried to turn around in his embrace, but he stopped you, not letting you see his tearful eyes. "Honey, it's not your fault in the slightest, please don't beat yourself up about it."

"But I should have-"

"Just listen to the same advice you gave me, hm? You never wanted this to happen, you wouldn't be so torn up about it otherwise. It's really not your fault."

With what you assumed to be a watery hum of agreement, Yunho nodded into your back.

You tried to turn around again, and this time, Yunho finally let you. You watched as his silhouette sat up, reaching around for the tissue box on the nightstand before wiping his tears and blowing his nose.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, crumpling the tissue and putting it away, "you're the one hurting and I'm making it all about myself."

You tutted softly as he laid back down, shuffling closer to him to drape yourself over his broad chest. "That's not true, Yun. I know this is really hard on you as well, you have all the right to be upset. Please don't hide it just because I'm also in pain."

"Okay," he accepted, taking a deep breath to calm himself.

The room stayed quiet for another few minutes, save for the faint rustling of the sheets as you intertwined one of your hands with his.

"If it's okay," Yunho croaked in a careful, ginger tone, "could we maybe talk more about this tomorrow? I feel like I have over a million questions right now, but I don't want to overwhelm you when you should be resting."

You let out a small, sleepy chuckle. "Yeah, that sounds good. I think I'll also feel a bit better if we talk about this some more tomorrow. It's a bit embarrassing even now when I know that you know, but I trust you enough to share this part of me, I think."

Yunho leaned down to kiss the top of your head, making you smile. "Thank you, you have no idea how much that means to me. And please, never feel embarrassed about this. Just because this stuff is not talked about enough doesn't mean your feelings are wrong or not valid. We'll figure this out together, I promise. No matter what it takes."

"Okay. I look forward to tomorrow," you said, pressing a quick peck to his sternum before lying down again. "Goodnight, Yuyu."

"Goodnight, love."

Please, don't hesitate to reblog or comment!! Any kind of feedback is much appreciated!! <333

(Also would once again like to say that this was not meant to romanticize SH in any way, and I hope it did not come across that way. Take care, everyone <3)

#ateez x reader #ateez comfort #ateez imagines #ateez reactions #yunho x reader #yunho comfort #ateez fluff #yunho fluff #yunho oneshot #ateez oneshot #ateez x y/n #ateez hurt/comfort #yunho imagines #ateez angst #yunho angst

171 notes · View notes

luimagines · 2 months

Note

reader and calamity pissing the chain off with their unending dance around each other’s feelings. bonus points if reader is none the wiser to how he feels due to his conscious effort to remain solemn 24/7. the links have all been there at some point, so they can read him, but reader’s out of the loop.

Sure thing! Sounds fun! XD

Masterlist

Content under cut!

"He's doing it again." Four mutters under his breath.

"Do not tell me. I don't need to see it." Wild grits his teeth, pulling his hood further over his head. It hurts his head and his heart, watching the two of them together. He cannot believe they used to be the same person.

"It's not that bad." Hyrule tilts his head. "Surely they would know that he's interested."

"Oh! Thank you, Cal." You gasp in surprise, quickly rummaging through your bag now that Cal had taken the torch from your grasp. he held it close so the light would still serve its purpose, but now you could use both of your hands to complete your purpose.

"Could he be any more obvious?" Wind groans and rubs his hand down his face. "Can't he just tell them already."

"Don't." Wild pulls the hood further over his head, straining the fabric at the seams.

"Easy, Cub." Twilight chuckles, patting him on the head. "Someone has to say something at some point, right?"

"That's what you think." Warrior snickers, even if he's cringing in his heart. This is painful to watch.

"Ok, thanks for holding that Cal." You take the torch back gently. "Sorry about calling you by your name. I'm still trying to get the new names to stick in my head. I'd call you Link but we both know why that wouldn't work."

The boy in question nods with the faintest smile on his face. You seem to get the idea that he won't take it personally.

You blush and cough, adjusting the strap of your bag over your shoulder.

Hyrule rolls his eyes so far up into his head that they threaten to fall out of it. "Why must we be subjected to this?"

"Just kiss!" Legend shouts in your general direction.

The Hero of the Calamity jolts and sends the coldest glare towards the Hero of Legend. You only seem to flush further and look away form both boys, shuffling into the group and away from Cal in the meantime. Legend for his part, doesn't seem to care less, sending a rude gesture in his direction with his tongue out, pulling down his eyelid in the process.

Time smacks him in the back of his head, nearly sending the young hero to the dirt. "Behave yourself. They're not hurting anyone."

"They're hurting me." Wild whines, wanting to blend into the shadows and ignore reality.

"S-sorry, Wild." You mutter. You also pull your hood over your head. It's easy to hide this way. At least it feels like you're hiding.

Cal comes up beside you, acting like a wall between you and judgmental looks of the other boys. He meets Wild's eyes. He's the only other hero that actually seems to fluster him. They have a lot to talk about and work through, but it's not like they want to talk about their personal lives or their lovers/lack thereof.

You reach down and take his hand. "Thank you."

Warrior blows an obnoxious raspberry and groans loudly. "As much as I hate to say it, I'm agreeing with Legend."

"Ha!"

Wild groans as well. "Legend please!"

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe x reader #lu x reader #lu calamity #lu cal #i almost mistook him for TotK Link #help #also- i think i got off topic #but here you go!! enjoy :D

183 notes · View notes

bombuni · 5 months

Note

Please I LOVE your puppy yunho drabbles 😭😭

Would love to hear your thoughts on puppy yeo 👉🏻👈🏻 I have such a soft spot for this boy but it's so hard to find yeo content 🫠

(possibly how yunho would respond to MC getting another puppy? Not sure if you write poly or not so no pressure!)

-lyra

contains: nsfw, puppy!yunho (in my head he’s a retriever hybrid) puppy!yeosang (doberman duhhh) switch!yeosang (but he’s really dom-leaning in this), switch!yunho, fem!reader, breeding, threesome, biting kink, voyeurism (kinda)

minors dni

I WENT A LITTLE OVERBOARD BUT. i. Thought this idea was so hot. thank u for even asking this bc OMFFG. And Dw I will write enough Yeosang fics to feed the UNIVERSE!!!!

Yunho’s not too happy about having a new guy in the house. He’s much quieter, pushing Yunho’s attempts at conversation away as if he’s too good for him. His nervous eyes follow his every move and his frost-colored, cropped ears pin his location wherever he is.

You swear he’s sweet to you. And Yunho’s seen it, he is. He sits next to you voluntarily, actually has conversations with you, touches you fleetingly.

You tell Yunho it’s only for a couple days. That Yeosang’s owner was traveling, and he needed a place to stay in the meantime. Yunho’s glad to hear it’s temporary, now cheerily spouting hello’s at Yeosang any time he sees him (still ignored.)

Yunho’s not too worried when you leave them alone to run errands one day. Of course he doesn’t want to part from you, but he understands the need for alone time. He doesn’t protest when you leave, but the door slamming shut and the silence that follows makes his stomach drop.

Gosh, sometimes he doesn’t realize how much he really needs and craves you. It’s like his body is so used to having you 24/7, the sudden departure just causes him to wilt and deflate. He sits on the couch, away from Yeosang, somberly. His chin rests in his hands, blankly watching the TV and counting the seconds until you get home.

Yeosang notices. He doesn’t want to say anything, but Yunho’s pouty lips are making something inside him stir. To Yeosang, Yunho is just a pestering pup. Always yapping and annoyingly sweet. He’s not used to being around someone as endearing as him, and he’s mad he’s falling for his tricks. Yunho subconsciously whines while he watches the clock, so used to you listening to his every beck and call.

“Quiet,” Yeosang mumbles, trying to comfort him, “She’ll be back soon.”

Yunho had almost forgotten about Yeosang. He rolls his eyes, “What do you care? You’re just a meanie,”

Yeosang snorts at the nickname, “I don’t. You’re just annoying.”

Yunho takes that as his sign to push more buttons, suddenly throwing himself onto the couch and laying his head onto Yeosang’s lap, “I’m soooo bored, Yeosangie, let’s do something.”

Yeosang grumbles, but makes no move to leave, “Get off of me, mutt,”

Yunho laughs at that, “You’re one to talk,” he stretches his arms casually, as if this is an everyday occurrence, “Why don’t you make me?”

Yeosang stews for a few seconds, pouting to himself because of his predicament. Yunho has forgotten the whole thing, back to watching the boring program selling pretty diamond earrings.

Ah. That reminds him of something.

Yeosang’s hand crawls sneakily from his side to Yunho’s head, making no sound before harshly pulling on one of Yunho’s brown, floppy ears. A yelp comes out of Yunho as his head follows Yeosang’s directions, the sound turning into an embarrassed moan.

Yunho flushes at that. He’s embarrassed because he thought the only one who could pull those noises out of him were you. He feels like a slut for wanting more.

Yeosang is smirking cockily down at him, a smaller blush on his face, but his hand remains on Yunho’s ear, “See? Dirty mutt,”

Yunho’s cock stirs at that. He enjoys the game of punishment, and his voice trembles in anticipation, “‘M not-“

The door suddenly unlocks and it blurs the lines between what’s happening and you. He’s excited at the thought of you finding him like this. He wants to prove to you both what a good boy he can be.

You turn once your bags are put away and Yeosang watches in real time as the perverted smile on your face grows when you process what’s happening.

“My sweet puppy, what did you do to Yeosangie?” You coo at Yunho, leaning on the arm of the couch with a sweet smile.

You’re so sweet and soft and it makes Yunho want to explode on the spot, “N-nothing-“

Yeosang tugs at Yunho again, “That’s a lie.”

You tsk, your hand coming up to trace Yunho’s jawline and god, he really wanted you to touch him already, but that’s not enough. It’s never enough.

“I’m sorry for my puppy’s misbehavior,” you turn to Yeosang, “I think just for that, he doesn’t get to cum.”

Yunho’s eyes widen at that, “B-but I’m good! I’m being a good puppy!”

Both you and Yeosang give him an incredulous look and he knows there’s no way he’s winning. He hardly does with just you.

He whines pitifully, but he sits back and shuts his mouth in obedience. He knows he’s winning with you when you give him another soft, lovesick smile. But, Yeosang just stares.

Before Yunho can say anything, Yeosang is pulling you into his lap and marking you as his own. His lips trail from your jaw to your collarbone, back to your mouth. It’s intoxicating, watching you both lose yourselves to each other. Yeosang licks a stripe between your neck and shoulder and it sends a shiver down Yunho’s spine.

The room is suddenly too hot for Yunho, his hands and skin yearning, burning to feel any sort of touch from either of you. But, it never comes. He sits, whines, and watches as Yeosang keeps his tongue down your throat. He can’t help it when one of his hands flies down to his aching cock, trying to soothe the urge to pound you until you’re full. Like he usually does.

Yeosang sees out of the corner of his eye, “Don’t.”

Yunho’s eyes brim with tears. He’s shaking, trembling, fucking aching, to feel something (you) and he’s being denied. He can’t take it. To rub salt into the wound, Yeosang bites down on the same spot on your neck he licked, making direct eye contact with Yunho. You moan and thrash against Yeosang, your hiss of pleasure and pain hitting Yunho’s nerves like it’s him who’s being bitten.

“S-sangie,” your tone is all too familiar, needy and desperate and ready to be fucked dumb by his leaking cock. Yunho wants to, needs to, run to you and fill you up already, but Yeosang won’t let him.

Yeosang pulls your pants down hastily and as soon as your garments off, your sweet smell fills the room. It’s something Yunho will never get used to and something Yeosang is now newly addicted to.

Yunho doubles over at the intoxicating smell, his heightened senses making it just about x100 worse for him, “Please, I just wanna- please let me-“

Yeosang pushes Yunho off the couch, forcing him to sit besides your head and watch as Yeosang’s cock finally enters you. God, you’re wet and creaming on his cock as soon as he fills you to the hilt. Yunho can’t stop watching as your pussy sucks Yeosang in time and time again, even if he’s throbbing in pain because of it. It’s something he can’t look away from.

Your tits bounce against Yeosang’s harsh thrusts, both of your moans mixing and making a song Yunho won’t forget. You turn to look at Yunho, all fucked out, and your hand comes out to Yunho like a beacon of light. He groans lowly when he finally, finally feels the relief of your hand scratching behind his ears. It feels too good, too appeasing, too delightful to have your approval again that he almost wants to cry.

Yeosang keeps fucking you, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room, “What a pervert, fucking leaking everywhere,” Yunho nods feverishly against your hand, not ashamed of the wet spot forming on his sweatpants, “Why don’t you come play with her while I fuck her then?”

Yunho wastes no time in leaning over you and finding his way to your clit. Long fingers spread your juices over you, already familiar with the way you tick. His forefingers rub at your center feverishly, mouth agape and eyes trained on Yeosang’s cock pistoning into you.

You moan and thrash against Yunho’s fingers, all of the attention on you is too overwhelming. Too good.

“Sh-shit,” Yeosang feels you tightening up against him, driving him to fuck you even harder to fill your sweet hole up faster. His voice passes through you like a thunderstorm, soft but fierce with an underlying, dangerous current.

Yunho smirks up at Yeosang, fingers still continuing their quick pace, “You gonna cum? Hmm? Feel how fucking tight she gets?” Yeosang’s hips stutter, his hands shaking against your skin, and god, he doesn’t want this to end, but he really, really wants to take you all for himself and fill you so everyone knows you’re his.

Yunho leans up to Yeosang, hot breath fanning against his ear and sending chills down his spine when his gentle hand runs along the fur of it, “Go on. She wants it all,” the retriever turns to you, “Don’t you, pup?”

You nod but Yeosang doesn’t take that for an answer, “Tell me how bad you want my pups,”

Your hands tremble against Yeosang, “S-so bad, Sangie, please, want you to fill me up.”

The idea of you swollen and heavy with their pups spurs them on. They both let out a shaky breath, before Yeosang fucks you harder than ever before and Yunho leans up to take all of your moans for himself. You can feel his hips grinding against the couch, the wet spot on his pants growing bigger and bigger. He’s your desperate, needy boy like always.

The sight of Yunho desperately and dumbly rocking his hips against whatever he can find and your tits bouncing is almost too much for Yeosang. He whines as he bottoms out inside you, his hips against yours attempting to reach the deepest part of you. You feel him coating your insides white, twitching inside of you as Yunho coos praise at you.

Yeosang is leaking out of you and there’s still more coming. You start to think he might’ve actually filled you to your capacity. Your body’s too hot now, looking down at Yeosang’s cock still balls-deep in you.

Yunho kisses the dreamy look off your face, “Such a good pup, milking Sangie for all he’s got,” his fingers card through your hair, “Say thank you.”

“Thank you, Sangie.” Your voice is trembling. Yeosang pulls out of you and the whine he lets out is completely involuntary. The sight of your cream-covered pussy is enough to get him ready for another round. He can’t get enough of you now, and he realizes why Yunho can’t be away from you for even one day.

You pipe up suddenly, “Yun, you didn’t get to-“

His tail wags frighteningly fast, “Oh no, I did. Twice.”

It’s hard having two insatiable beings tied to you, but you make it work.

#ateez #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez oneshot #ateez scenarios #ateez fic #ateez fluff #ateez smut #jeong yunho #yunho x reader #yunho smut #kang yeosang #yeosang x reader #yeosang smut

253 notes · View notes

slut4thebroken · 1 year

Text

baby bat

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Scarecrow x Batgirl!reader

Summary | Scarecrow films a ransom video to send to Batman.

Warnings | Sexual content, 18+, smut, dubcon, vibrator, forced orgasm, overstimulation, kidnapping, nonconseual recording?, praise.

Words | 800+

Notes | I might make a part two but don’t hold your breath lol. Also for legal reasons, I own the rights to the nickname baby bat cause I came up with it and haven’t seen it used before 😼💅🏻

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

“Where'd Batman find you, hm?” He placed a hand on your thigh, just above your knee, and started slowly dragging it up.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” You growled, thrashing in the restraints. He let out a low chuckle and removed his hand.

“So feisty. Is this your first time as a hostage?” You gritted your teeth and remained silent. “Oh, it is. Well, I’m honored to be your first.” You could tell he was smirking behind the mask.

“I’ll admit, this isn’t how I would normally go about it, but I couldn’t pass up the opportunity.” He said, walking over to the desk to grab something. “Let’s get this out of the way first, then we’ll move onto the fun stuff.” As he walked back over, you could see now that what he grabbed was a vibrator and a video camera.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He shushed you and ignored your thrashing as he attached the vibrator to your clothed heat.

“It might not be as effective over your suit, but I imagine it’ll give a similar result.” He said and you couldn’t tell if he was talking to you or himself. “Let’s get you warmed up.” He switched it on and your back arched off of the reclined examination chair as your whole body tensed up with the sudden stimulation. You pulled on the restraints hard enough to make your wrists and ankles burn even through the suit.

“Feel good?” He asked and you watched the way his head tilted down then back up, eyeing your body. You bit your lip to contain your sounds, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

“W-why aren’t you— fuck… using your toxin?” You choked out, trying not to moan through the words.

“I told you, I’m saving the fun part for later.” He lightly trailed his fingers up your naval and between your breasts, only stopping once he reached the zipper of your suit. Since his hand was just below your face, you jerked your head forward, trying to bite him, but he moved away before you could and snickered in response, the sound through the voice modulator in his mask making you shiver. He opened up the camera and fiddled with it for a few seconds before a small light started flashing.

“Say hi.” He cooed, making you turn your head away from him as you tried to keep the shaking of your body to a minimum. That was proving to be very difficult though because of your rapidly approaching orgasm. “So moody.” He chuckled. “I guess we’ll get right to it then. I need you to do something for me, Batman. If I’m satisfied.. I’ll let her go. If not… well I could use a pet.” You let out a strangled whimper and squeezed your eyes shut, trying to will the orgasm away.

“I’ll send you the details soon. In the meantime… I’ll take good care of her, don’t worry. We’re gonna have so much fun, isn’t that right, baby bat?” He started rubbing your thigh again as he waited for a response.

You tried to think about dead puppies, the scent of dead bodies, Bruce’s cooking— anything. But nothing could bring you down from the edge. The knot of arousal in your stomach finally snapped and you let out a loud moan as your back arched off the chair and your whole body tensed.

“Oh, look at that.” He cooed mockingly. “Good girl.” You did your best to ignore the way his words ignited a new fire in your belly. When your orgasm faded and you sagged into the exam chair, you quickly tensed up again when the last little bit of pleasure quickly turned into overstimulation. You bit your lip to stifle your pained whimpers, but it barely made a difference.

“Look at her twitch.” He said proudly. “Does it feel a little too good now?”

“F-fuck you.” You spat, but your voice was too breathless to have any kind of edge to it.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get to that soon enough. Now, Batman, one last parting word; trust that by the time the next video finds you, she’ll still be in this predicament, so I’d work quickly if I were you.” He moved in closer to your face and grabbed your cheeks when you started turning away. “Say goodbye, baby bat.” When you remained silent, he chuckled and turned the camera off.

“Good job. You make such a pretty captive.” It was hard to focus on his words— on anything really— with intense, painful pleasure on your clit.

“Y-you’re going to let me go?” You whimpered and he froze. His head tilted slightly, making you more nervous.

“You poor thing. I’m sorry if I gave you false hope, I didn’t think you’d be stupid enough to believe me.” You let out a choked sob from his words and he cooed with faux sympathy. “I know. But soon enough you’ll grow to like it here. Just give it time, pet.”

#scarecrow x reader smut #scarecrow x reader #scarecrow #batgirl!reader #jonathan crane #jonathan crane x reader smut #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane x reader

743 notes · View notes

bunnysbrainrot · 1 year

Text

Easy Access

Relationship: Negan x fem!Reader

Content: free use kink, fingering, p in v, dom/sub dynamic, overall dirty talk, breeding kink

Summary: After becoming one of Negan’s wives, you soon come to find out exactly why he prefers you all in dresses. One day, when Negan instructs you to wear less than normal, you discover something that riles him up more than anything.

A/N: This is my first Negan story, and although it’s just a oneshot, I hope you all enjoy!

The last few months had become a blur. One day, you were captured by the Saviors from your small community, seemingly the next Negan was scouting you out to be his new wife. Originally opposed to the idea, worries of feeling like a prize than a person, Negan had shown you that he gives each of the wives individual attention. After surviving in the post-apocalypse world, wearing dresses again was foreign. Something about the outfit reminded you of your safety - that would wouldn’t have to run to live anymore, that you could finally focus on your looks again.

Your ‘job’, if you could call it that, was to be beautiful and obedient, though the obedience part was sometimes difficult. But, you had proven yourself to your leader and remained faithful to him. He delivered above and beyond any sexual experience you had before him, leaving you absolutely starstruck and hungry for more when you had time together.

Yesterday Negan had instructed you to ‘forget the panties’ today, so all that was left what your elegant black sundress, a bra, and your heels. The feeling of the occasional breeze up your bare legs was odd, but something tightened in your stomach when Negan saw you in the afternoon, when the wives met with him to relax together.

Though the room was full of other gorgeous women, Negan could tear his eyes away from you, slowly trailing down your bare legs crossed in front of you. Goosebumps rose on your skin, an anticipation of what could happen if his hands wandered over you. As the wives talked to one another, you sipped a glass of white wine as you made eye contact with Negan. He gave you a lazy grin, to which you met it with a polite smile. His gloved hand pointed to his lap, a silent command to join him which you would happily oblige to.

You slowly walked over, swaying your hips in your new dress that hugged every curve in a way that made Negan drool over you. He greeted you with open arms as you settled onto him, resting his broad hands on your hips. As he gave idle small talk to the other wives his fingers teasingly moved across the fabric of your dress.

“So,” his husky whisper reached your ears, “you have anything on under this?”

You turned your head to him and shook it, eliciting a devilish grin from your husband. One of Negan’s fingers hooked at the hem of your dress tauntingly. Red painted your cheeks in a way that made Negan roll his hips up into yours, his hardened erection pressing against your ass.

“Ladies, I appreciate you taking the time to come here today. But, I do have some business to discuss with this one here,” he patted your leg, “This evening, I’m planning on hosting a dinner for all of you lovely wives, but in the meantime I’m gonna have to ask you all to head to your rooms.”

A few of the wives glanced your way in confusion, but your expression showed them that you had no clue what was going on either. Dutifully they left the room, leaving you and your husband to yourselves.

Silence fell in the room until Negan spoke again, making sure anyone else was out of earshot.

“Do you know why I asked you to ditch those panties for me?”

Your breath hitched slightly at his question, to which you shook your head, “No, sir.”

“Well, you see, my dear wife, I will let you know that it does happen to be a quite selfish reason,” he drawled on as a hand tugged at your dress. Negan hooked his fingers underneath and lifted the fabric until it rested at your hips.

With your thighs completely bare you shivered against the chill of the room.

“You’re shaking. You cold, sweetness?” You nodded to his question.

“Don’t you worry that pretty little head of yours, I’m gonna find a way to warm you up pretty soon,” he muttered against your ear. The warmth of his breath across your skin left you with your head rolling back to his shoulder as your legs spread for his touch.

Negan let out a low chuckle while his hands wandered upward toward the apex of your thighs. What your husband didn’t know was that ever since he eyed you in the meeting, the heat in your abdomen had left you soaked for him. Your slick covered your inner thighs, inviting him in to let his greedy fingers to take over your senses. Dipping a single finger between your folds, Negan let out a low growl of approval.

“And look at that,” he cooed, “you’re just dripping for me, ain’t you, sweet girl?”

Your hips bucked at his touch, a silent plead for more of his skilled fingers. Negan ran slow circles over your swollen clit, helping you ride through the pleasure as your breaths came out in shaky spurts.

“I thought having your pussy bare to the world could give me some excitement, but I think it may have done that to you, too, angel,” he breathed against your neck, “But you see, my dear wife, the reason I asked you to do that was so we wouldn’t have so many damn clothes in the way.”

You gripped his hand with your own, tugging at it lower to slide his digits to your entrance. Unfortunately this isn’t what Negan had in mind. He urged your hands away that brought a whine from your throat.

“Can’t having you getting handsy, darlin’,” breathed Negan, “‘cause right now, this pussy doesn’t belong to you. And I want you to take a wild guess as to who owns it.”

You hated when he made you use your words, but it gave Negan a thrill when you spoke up in a pleading voice, “You do.”

“I’m sorry, what was that, sugar?”

“It’s… yours.”

“And what is ‘it’, my love?” He demanded softly, tugging your arms back. Negan shifted to create space between you and pinned your arms against his torso, keeping you from breaking free and exposing your aching cunt to him.

“My… my pussy. It’s yours, sir,” that had satisfied him, erupting a groan against your beck. Negan left warm, sloppy kisses along your skin until he reached your ear.

“Now,” he softly spoke, “I’m gonna use this pretty little pussy until I’m drained. That cunt of yours is gonna take my cock and milk it dry. You understand?”

You desperately nodded, arching your back in reply. Negan brought one hand to your chest while the other remained trained on your pussy. The hand on your chest pulled at the straps of your sundress over your shoulders to expose your chest, covered by your bra. Negan’s fingers idly played with your clit as he unhooked your bra. The two of you wiggled you out of it, and now fully bare under your dress, Negan let the straps fall, your breasts laid out for his pleasure.

Two fingers took a nipple and gently twisted, drawing out a sharp moan from you. Negan’s fingers teased the entrance of your drenched cunt, inviting him inside.

“You see how much easier this is, sweetheart? We don’t have all of those pesky underthings in the way of me using you,” he explained in a husky voice. He pulled his hands away without warning. You let out a soft gasp in protest, but he was already freeing your arms from behind your back.

“Stand up for me, baby girl,” commanded Negan, to which you obliged. You stood with shaking knees between his legs, his large erection rock hard in his jeans. Your husband eyed you carefully, “Let’s see you take that dress off. I need to see my beautiful wife in all of that glory.”

You heeded his instruction and lifted the dress over your head, falling to the floor beneath you. Negan beckoned you over with a finger before removing his pants and boxers, springing his cock free to rest against his stomach. At the sight, you could’ve sworn your mouth began to water, eager for him in any way he pleasured you.

“I’m not using that beautiful mouth today. Right now, I need that tight pussy swallowing my cock into you.”

He coaxed you into his lap, his hard length pressing against your soaked folds. Negan took your hips in his hands, dragging you back and forth along his member. Your knees had become weak, slumping against Negan as the pleasure came over you. His hands cupped your ass and lifted you above his length, lining the thick head with your entrance.

“Go on, baby, I wanna see you take me in,” muttered Negan. Your hips lowered onto him, filling your aching heat with his thick girth. As you settled down, and your moans evened out, Negan took your arms into his hands, placing them behind your back with his fingers wrapped around your wrist.

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” he whispered as you rode him gently.

“Get nice and settled for me, babydoll. I’m gonna take care of you, ‘kay?” His voice filled your senses completely, your mouth agape in ecstasy. Negan braced his feet on the floor to buck his hips upward, sending his cock deeper into your pussy. He groaned at the sensation, the mix of your noises creating a harmony of lust.

The strokes started out at an excruciatingly slow pace; eventually Negan began to pick up speed, the head of his cock crashing against your cervix. You weren’t sure how much of this you could take, though your moans fully took you over, carrying out throughout the room.

“I know, sweetheart,” he said sweetly, “I know it feels good, being stuffed with cock all nice and full. How about you cum for me, can you do that, darlin’?”

Almost at the very command, you tightened around his length, drawing out a groan from you husband while his cock bruised your cunt. The thrusts became harsher, striking in deep spots you couldn’t have imagined. Small cries fell past your lips: his name, pleads for more, pleads for him to use you as he saw fit.

“Damn, you’re just about fucked dumb, aren’t ya, sweetheart? Ain’t much else in there except wanting to be a cock sleeve,” Negan growled into your ear. “And might I say, you might just milk my cock for all its worth, the way you’re getting tight for me.”

Something taught in your abdomen snapped at his words, your pleasure erupting wildly around his cock. His thrusts remained as powerful as before, fucking you senselessly through your orgasm. You shook around him, arching your back as you fell quickly into another. The way his cock hit every inch of you sent shockwaves through your nerves, the climaxes hitting you in quick succession. Each time you fell apart for him, Negan seemed to unravel just as much, the only sounds in the room being the occasional growl from him, and the slapping of his skin against your drenched thighs.

Negan brought his mouth to your neck, mumuring sweet nothings until he reached your ear, whispering something that tightened your pussy around him yet again.

“I’ve got one rule, sweet thing,” he began, “I’m about to fill you up into next week, and I don’t want you to waste a single drop of it.”

You hoped that your body could do that. Not out of concern of a punishment, but in hopes to follow his every command perfectly. Negan’s thrusts became more erratic before he let out a rough grunt, his cock throbbing inside of your cunt as he spilled his warm load into you. You clenched around his length to keep his cum inside as he commanded.

“Attagirl,” he breathed heavily, “now, I’m gonna lift you up, and we’ll both watch all of the cum drip right outta you.” Your breath hitched at this, lifting your shaking hips up until his length left you feeling hollow. Warmth dripped past from pussy, to which Negan roughly opened up your legs further to give you both a good show. White ropes of cum dripped from you and onto his length, twitching against his abdomen.

“Now that’s a pretty sight. Look at how much you took, babydoll,” he praised, bringing a finger to your slick, bringing a shudder from you on your sensitive clit.

“You’re far prettier with my cum spilling outta you. All nice and filled up.”

Your breaths remained heavy as you watched the amount that leaked from your folds, over his fingers and onto his palm.

“Say, we should make a day of this,” he proposed. You looked at him in slight confusion while he slipped a finger into your soaked pussy, curling inside of you to strike your g-spot.

“I want… to set aside a day, just the two of us, for somethin’ special.” Negan pumped his fingers in and out of you slowly, “I want to see how much of me you can take in a day. We’ll see just how much cum this pussy can hold.”

The idea shattered you around him, clenching around his fingers as your orgasm soaked his hands.

“Oh, you like the idea of that.” He questioned, “What do you say, wanna be a cock sleeve for a day?”

You dumbly nodded, to which Negan smiled.

“Don’t you worry. This was just a practice round.”

Thank you all for reading! I definitely have plans to expand upon this, so be prepared.

#negan x you #negan the walking dead #negan #negan smut #the walking dead #negan x reader #twd fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction

565 notes · View notes

callsigns-haze · 2 months

Text

Water Baby

Eris x Rhysand's Sister!Reader Summary: Eris and Y/N enjoy a perfect day by the lake, playing with Finna Chapter contains scenes of family bonding and lighthearted moments.

*Serves as a one-shot but can be read as memories fade or the sequel loves haze series

Eris couldn’t believe how fast time had flown by. One and a half years had passed in the blink of an eye. He watched his three-year-old son, Finna, splash around in the water, his little hands paddling energetically. Eris swam beside him, encouraging him with gentle words and guiding hands.

Finna had grown so much. His curly hair, it grew slightly darker in time with streaks of highlights, glistened in the sunlight, and his laughter echoed across the lake, pure and joyful. Eris couldn’t help but smile, his heart swelling with pride and love for his son.

On the shore, Y/N was sunbathing, her dark hair spread out like a fan on the towel beneath her. She had a serene expression on her face, the sunlight casting a warm glow on her skin. She turned her head slightly, watching Eris and Finna with a contented smile. This was the peace she had longed for, a moment of pure happiness with her family.

The past two years had been a journey of healing and growth. Y/N had been diligently visiting the healer, seeking updates about the damage in her uterus caused by the force field. The news had been a mix of hope and caution, but Y/N remained determined. She was strong, a fighter, and Eris admired her resilience.

In the meantime, Y/N had also started practicing with Finna, helping him learn to control his burgeoning powers. It was a slow and careful process, but Finna was a quick learner, and his powers, a blend of both his parents' abilities, showed remarkable potential. Eris often marvelled at the sight of Y/N guiding Finna, her patience and love evident in every gesture.

“Come on, Finna, kick your legs like this,” Eris encouraged, demonstrating the motion. Finna mimicked him, his little legs splashing water everywhere.

“Like this, Daddy?” Finna asked, his big eyes looking up at Eris.

“Exactly like that, buddy,” Eris said, his voice filled with pride. “You’re doing great.”

Finna’s laughter filled the air again, and Eris scooped him up, lifting him high above the water. Finna squealed in delight, his arms and legs flailing with joy.

“Higher, Daddy!” Finna exclaimed, and Eris obliged, lifting him even higher before gently lowering him back into the water.

Y/N watched them with a smile, her heart full. She shifted slightly, propping herself up on her elbows to get a better view. “You two look like you’re having fun,” she called out.

Eris turned to her, his smile widening. “We are! You should join us.”

Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head. “I think I’ll enjoy the sun for a bit longer. But you two go ahead.”

Eris laughed as he gently tossed Finna up in the air, catching him securely every time. The delighted squeals of his son echoed across the lake, filling the air with pure joy. Finna’s little arms flailed with excitement, and his bright eyes sparkled with happiness.

“Higher, Daddy! Higher!” Finna called out, his laughter infectious.

“Alright, one more time,” Eris said, his voice warm and playful. He lifted Finna high above his head, feeling the boy’s tiny hands gripping his shoulders tightly. With a careful toss, Finna soared into the air, the sunlight glinting off the droplets of water that sprayed around him.

Finna came down with a splash, laughing as Eris caught him securely in his strong arms. “That was so much fun!” Finna exclaimed, his cheeks rosy from the excitement and cool water.

“You’re a brave little guy,” Eris said, pride evident in his voice. He held Finna close, kissing the top of his wet head. “Now, let’s practice floating on your back again. Remember what Mommy showed you?”

Finna nodded, his expression serious as he focused on his father’s instructions. Eris gently lowered him onto his back, supporting him with his hands. Finna’s small body relaxed, and he floated on the surface of the water, his eyes wide with concentration.

“See? You’re doing great,” Eris encouraged. “Just keep your body still and trust the water to hold you up.”

Finna’s face lit up with pride as he floated effortlessly. “Look, Daddy! I’m doing it!”

Eris beamed, his heart swelling with love. “Yes, you are! I’m so proud of you, Finna.”

After a few more moments of floating, Finna decided he wanted to play some more. Eris let him splash around, his small hands creating waves that lapped against their legs. They played a game of pretending to be sea creatures, with Finna declaring himself a mighty dolphin and Eris a playful sea lion.

“Dolphin Finna, swim over here!” Eris called out, making exaggerated swimming motions.

Finna giggled, paddling over to Eris with his best dolphin impression. “I’m the fastest dolphin ever!”

“You sure are!” Eris agreed, capturing Finna in a gentle hug and spinning him around in the water. Finna’s laughter filled the air once again, and Eris couldn’t help but join in.

Eventually, Finna’s energy began to wane, and he looked towards the shore where Y/N was watching them with a loving smile. “Mommy, I want to go to Mommy!” Finna declared, his little legs kicking as he pointed towards Y/N.

Eris nodded, lifting Finna out of the water and carrying him towards the shore. Finna’s arms wrapped around his neck, his wet hair plastered to his forehead.

As they approached, Y/N stood up, holding a fluffy towel open and ready. “Come here, my little water baby,” she said, her voice full of affection.

Eris gently set Finna down, and the boy ran into Y/N’s arms, wrapping his small, wet body in the towel. Y/N enveloped him in the soft fabric, drying him off with tender care. “Did you have fun, sweetheart?”

Finna nodded enthusiastically, his eyes shining. “Yes, Mommy! Daddy and I played dolphin and sea lion! I floated, too!”

“You did? That’s wonderful!” Y/N said, her face beaming with pride. She planted kisses all over Finna’s face, making him giggle and squirm.

Eris watched them with a smile, his heart full. Y/N’s love for their son was palpable, and the sight of them together filled him with a profound sense of gratitude. He walked over, wrapping an arm around Y/N and kissing her temple.

“You two are my everything,” Eris said softly, his voice filled with emotion.

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes reflecting the same depth of feeling. “And you are ours,” she replied, leaning into his touch.

Request are open and active!

Tagging some:

@callsign-magnolia

@kmc1989

@hardballoonlove

@senawashere

@hookslove1592

@marvel-molly

@lucky7rosie

@daughterofthemoons-stuff

@lilah-asteria

@crossfandomslut

@pit-and-the-pen

@inky-sun

@the-sweet-psycho

@why4anne

@bunnyredgirl

@rcarbo1

@pandabiiissh

@adalia-jaycee

@swiftie-4-lifes-stuff

@minaethrym

#eris vanserra #eris x reader #eris acotar #eris x you #eris x y/n #autumn court #eris fanfic #eris imagine #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra acotar

80 notes · View notes

avoxrising · 9 months

Text

The Feral One • Ch 28

Finnick x Y/N

Series Masterlist Link

This may be the last chapter for a few days as we’re approaching the end of the story rapidly and I haven’t finished editing it yet lol. I apologize for leaving it off with a cliffhanger but I want to make sure the end is perfect before posting it. Life’s been busy this week so I haven’t had the time to finish it the way I want to.

Content Warnings - Injury, death, medical issues, I promise Finnick isn’t being stupid this time lol

The next week was full of recovery. You slowly regained your strength and were able to try solid foods again. The doctors polished all your scars off, including the one on your face from your games, at your request. You wanted nothing left to remind you of them.

You started physical therapy, as well as regular sessions with Dr. Aurelius. He allowed Finnick to join you, realizing you felt more comfortable with him nearby. You still had to use a walker to get around, but you were making progress.

A few weeks after the war ended, Coin called all the victors into a meeting. There were barely any left, mostly due to the war.

“I’ve called you all here for a very symbolic vote,” she states. You don’t like where this is going.

She proceeds to pitch her idea for a hunger games featuring capital children. There are mixed reactions from the remaining victors, with some believing the idea to be fair and others believing it to be cruel. Votes are cast around the room and it finally comes down to Katniss.

“I get to kill Snow,” she tells Coin, who agrees to this proposition.

“Then I vote yes,” she states. “For Prim.”

You can’t even process what this means. Another games? Was Coin out of her mind? You finally realized what you had been denying all along, as long as Coin was in charge, you would never be free.

Finnick brings you back to your shared room after the meeting. You allow his touch but still flinch away at everyone else. Dr. Aurelius had been working with you on that but it’s hard to undo the trauma of many years.

“I just want to go home,” you tell him.

“You have to stay here for a bit,” he explains. “District 4 doesn’t have the resources for your treatment. Once you are better I promise you can go back to 4.”

“What about you?” you ask him. “Are you staying?”

He hesitantly shakes his head.

“I have to go to 4 for a few weeks but I’ll come back as soon as I can,” he states. “Johanna will be here with you in the meantime and I’ll call every day.”

“You’re leaving?” you ask, dumbfounded by his response.

“I promise it’s for a good reason,” he says, squeezing your hand. “I wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t important.”

“When do you leave?” you ask.

“In two weeks,” he responds. “I’ll be here for the first bit of your treatment and return before it’s over. Then we will both go back to 4 together. Do you trust me?”

“Always”

That afternoon Finnick helps you walk out onto the avenue to stand next to the other victors. Snow was finally falling, and you were both alive to witness it.

Standing in front of all the capital people made you uneasy. What did they think of you? Were they going to hurt you?

You’re lost in your thoughts when suddenly the crowd erupts into chaos. You look up to see Coin lying dead on the podium, an arrow in her heart. A mob of people begins rushing towards Snow, eager to kill him.

Finnick quickly scoops you up and carries you away from the commotion. When he finally sets you down, you ask what happened.

“Katniss killed Coin,” he states. “Snow is dead.”

He has to take you back to your room before you have a breakdown. What evil creature was going to seize power of Panem next? All of this was too much.

You end up collapsing on the floor of your room, shaking uncontrollably.

Taglist:

@randomgurl2326 @mystargirl-interlude @uther-pendragon-is-an-ass @yourdailymemedelivery @americanprometheuss @l3xi3luv @noisyalmonddreamer @nordicvxid @teaganthemorningstar @samatokisunfinishedcigarette @justtrying2getby @lvsticm @notplutos @innercreationflower @nexxus13 @kachelleee @helluvafire @haymitchabernathyslover @memeorydotcom @frostsword @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @giverosespls @honethatty12 @just-levyy @dd122004dd @nekee-lilac02 @impeterporker @nox-the-gay-nerd @redsakura101 @hopefulatrocity @eddiemunson4ever @fangirlvibez @kittimbo @zucchinimalfoy @sleepy-roman @secretsicanthideanymore @writerofadream @finnysmusic @mayonesavegana @lilifl0wer @finnickodaddy @abbersreads @fox-bee926 @ginger-swag-rapunzel @isasalom @yizhoutv @livingdead-reilly @imaegonstargaryenswife0 @faephoria @omwtkydttfym @iris1587 @sarcasm-and-stiles @10ava01 @impossessedbyjeongyeon @littleanubis21 @scorpiolystoned

*if the tag didn’t work please check your settings to make sure other blogs can tag you

#hunger games #finnick odair #hunger games fic #the hunger games #finnick odair x reader #finnick x reader #finnick odair angst #finnick angst #finnick #thg finnick #mockingjay part 2 #the feral one #avoxrising

207 notes · View notes

604to647 · 3 months

Text

Kiss It Better (Drabble)

0.87K / Din Djarin x Princess!reader

Summary: Din tells you he's leaving.

Warnings: None! Some angst, secret relationship, kissing, some Mando'a nicknames. They are in love 😭

A/N: Look, all this new content of a certain General has had me itching to write, but I have a hard time writing for characters I haven't watched. However, the General also gives me some vibes that remind me of this idea/outline I have where Din is dispatched by Carson Teva to train the armies of a New Republic stronghold planet - and there he falls in love with the King's daughter. It's supposed to be semi-canon compliant and also kind of Medieval-y? Maybe I'll rework it for Acacius in the future or just write it as is, who knows? 🤷🏻‍♀️ In the meantime, here's what fell out of my head this morning 🤭

Optional soundtrack at the end; Dividers by @saradika-graphics as always 😘

You look at him with a mixture of sadness, disbelief and disappointment that you know you have no right to feel. He watches the swirling waves of emotions in those expressive eyes of yours that he loves so much, conveying so much distress even as you remain silent to his announcement.

“What would you have me do, Princess?” Din asks gently, his own feelings prickling hot on his skin, nearly vibrating the shiny Beskar metal that lays atop: desperation, resignation, defeat.

Though your eyes soften a little, head tilting now so that they bore into the visor of his helmet, you continue to say nothing – mouth still set in a hard line, the corners of which threaten to pull down into a full out frown sure to overtake your pretty face.

His question isn’t entirely rhetorical – if you have the answers, Din wants them. He’s at a loss. “Do you really expect me to remain in your court while you marry another man? Think it possible for me to stand idly by as he takes your hand and proclaims you his own in front of the kingdom? How am I to bear knowing that another man is taking you in your bed when I know its softness and heaven so well? Endure as you smile at him, love him? Carry his children?”

These last words are practically shouted, Din's incredulity barely concealed by his helmet’s modulator. You flinch at the harshness of his tone; Din never raises his voice at you. To your father’s troops he so deftly commands, yes. To those he sees inflicting casual cruelty or unkindness upon innocents in the villages he protects, yes. But never to you.

Din slumps, deflated when he sees the stiffness of your body and how you’ve shrunk away from him. He tries another approach to make you come around, understand his anguish. Reaching out, he gently pinches your chin between his gloved fingers so you’ll look at him, “And if I were to stay, how would you feel if I took a wife? Some noble woman from court, perhaps? One whose home and family you know well, so you would be familiar with where I lay my head every night?”

A hot bolt of anger surges through your chest and you shake your head furiously, jerking away from Din’s light touch. Eyes flashing with possessiveness and jealousy fueled rage, you practically snarl, “I would have her and her entire family killed.”

Din chuckles, his feisty cyar’ika. Even if it was meant to drive home his earlier point, you both know it’s all talk - there will never be anyone for him but you, “No you wouldn’t, mesh’la.” Gently cupping your face, Din strokes your cheek with his thumb, mollified that you let him.

Closing your eyes, you lean into his hand, the warmth of his palm radiating through the leather bringing you back to yourself. To Din.

When you finally open your eyes, there’s no more fight left in them - only tears. He’s right of course – it’s selfish and cruel for you to want him to stay, and so you beg of him something that would be lesser so, “Though it is my father’s intention for me to wed, I am not yet betrothed, Din. Please. Will you at least stay until I am?”

How could he ever deny you anything? Even though you’ve never exercised your right to command him as his sovereign, he would gladly follow you anywhere, adhere to your every wish and whim as all your loyal subjects do; benevolent and kind (he knows your earlier threat of violence to be completely empty), you will make a wonderful Queen someday. One he would proudly bow to, lead armies for, and love only from afar if you asked. He would do anything you asked of him, which is why he knows you won’t ask him to suffer the agony he described. But this, he can do – he will happily serve you on bended knee, in the throne room during the day and in between your legs at night, until the very day it’s no longer his place.

Bringing his forehead to touch yours, he pledges his fielty to your heart, “I will, cyar’ika. I will stay until you’re no longer mine.”

Unable to hold them back any longer, tears cascade over your cheeks as you close your eyes and swear to your own allegiance, “I’ll always be yours, Din.”

You stay like this, skin to Beskar, heartbeat to heartbeat until you hear the telltale click of Din’s helmet unlocking. Eyes still closed, you nudge up the bottom brim with your nose just enough so that your mouth can find his; needing no addition guidance apart from the familiarity of this intimacy and your desire, your lips easily locate its mark.

Din kisses you soft and chaste, a gentleness that behooves the prim and proper princess you are, but when you open up to him, he deepens to devour you, hungry and wolflike – paying homage to the wild and passionate fire that he knows burns within the woman he loves.

You kiss like the two of you have forever; both knowing, but unwilling to acknowledge in this moment, that you don’t.

Optional Soundtrack: Kiss It Better by Rihanna

🎶So I argue, you yell, but you take me back Who cares when it feels like crack? Boy, you know that you always do it right

Man, f- your pride Just take it on back, boy, take it on back, boy Take it back all night Just take it on back, take it on back Mmm, do what you gotta do, keep me up all night Hurtin' vibe, man, it hurts inside when I look you in yo' eye

What are you willing to do? Oh, tell me what you're willing to do (Kiss it, kiss it better, baby) 🎶

#din djarin #din djarin fic #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

70 notes · View notes

coltermorning · 3 days

Text

Of Love and Loss Ch. 20 (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: You and Arthur finally find solace in a town and in each other, breaking down every last wall that remains.

Author’s Notes: Sexual content in this chapter. Chapter twenty of this one.

Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, high honor Arthur Morgan, minor character death, loss of parents, blood and injury, grief/mourning, survivor guilt, strangers to lovers, slow burn, smut, loss of virginity, graphic depictions of violence

AO3 Link

Of Love and Loss

Twenty: The Power of a Name

Word count: 6609

She really thought I would leave her here. What nonsense, especially after what happened in the last town and how much it haunts her. I suppose I’ll be seeing this journey through to the end. Either that, or long enough for her to tell me to get lost. Surprisingly, that ain’t happened quite yet, though I ain’t holding out hope that it won’t after how much of a fool I been towards her. We shall see, I guess.

It had taken ten more days to get back to civilization. The town of Ogallala was small but growing fast due to the rail built through it. Arthur knew it made you nervous to be around this many people again, but the law in this town was sparse, and the two of you kept your heads down well enough and found a hotel tucked away to stay hidden in in the meantime. If anyone came through looking for you, they’d have to go door to door to find you, and many of the townsfolk weren’t local besides. That meant no real reason to turn in two people folk hadn’t really noticed in the first place. That left Arthur calm enough not to worry over your safety like he had been the past week and a half. And that left him more relaxed than he had been in a long time.

It turned out you were nervous about more than just the law and the local population—he’d had to wriggle it out of you, but Arthur finally figured out you thought the local train station meant his departure. Your final destination wasn’t far, and you had thought he was impatient enough to get back to his gang that he would take the first train to Denver and leave you here to fend for yourself. He couldn’t begin to explain how wrong you were and had instead led you to the hotel without a word, a little miffed you thought he cared that little about you. Then again, he hadn’t outright expressed much reason for you to think otherwise, and he was starting to think it was time to. You’d immediately collapsed onto the bed upon arrival, worn from all the hard travel, so he didn’t have a chance to speak his mind anyway. Later, he told himself. Though he was in denial about the fact that very soon, there wouldn’t be a later.

Arthur sat on the floor beside the bed and chewed on a bit of cooked deer meat Beth had insisted the two of you take, looking over his journal to pass the time. Really, he wondered what to say to you. He wasn’t the best with words, especially when it came to matters of the heart. He thought of writing it down but had come up with his pitiful new journal entry instead, cowardly as ever. Then, annoyed, he turned back a page, knowing exactly what he would find. He didn’t know why it surprised him. But there you were, laid out on that bed in that barn, half-naked save for his coat. And underneath, your name. Your real name, written out after he’d finished every last gentle curve and arc of your body. He never thought knowing a name would be such an honor, but he realized that it had been your way of expressing to him what he had yet to express to you—how much you cared for him. It was obvious he felt the same, obvious in the few stolen kisses he’d gotten since what had happened in that worn down barn. But maybe the pair of you hadn’t come together like that since because he was the one holding back, not you. And that left him shameful.

Arthur looked over at you on the bed, your back steadily rising and falling in sleep. You were faced away, so he couldn’t see much of you apart from your hand draped over the bedside. Even that small glimpse of you had him thinking of how little time there was left between you and how precious this closeness was. It was time for him to admit things he never normally would or risk letting them fester within him, nothing more than regret that would chafe like hell the farther away he got from you.

Arthur stowed the deer meat and went back to studying the drawing of you. One thing he liked most about it was the look on your face—the smile. Upon first meeting you, he never would have thought someone so heartbroken could eventually be so willful again. That smile was catlike, just for him. It turned him on a little. And the rest of the drawing didn’t make matters better, nor did the thought of what the two of you had done together to cause that smile.

Arthur thought of other ways you had surprised him, as you continued to do every day. How good of a shot you were, for one. Hell, just the thought of you being so good with a gun you’d snapped that noose clean in half had him hard. Then his mind drifted to your hands wrapped around a gun, and just like that, he was lost.

Arthur’s eyes followed the curve of your breast in his coat as he thought of how argumentative you were, the way you snapped at him without fear time and again. He was used to being intimidating enough to make everyone else hold their tongue, but not you. You let him have it.

And your mouth. The way you kissed him despite not quite knowing how—it was unfair to be so good at it. Unfair to be so innocent yet so arousing. Timid yet wild, broken yet strong. All of it.

Arthur let out an annoyed breath at how aroused he had become, setting his journal aside and turning to look at you. He wouldn’t leave you again, but he was suddenly desperate to take himself in hand, something he would rather not do in front of you, asleep or not. But, he considered, you had just fallen asleep. It could be hours. You weren’t a very heavy sleeper, but he could be quiet. He could…shit. He shouldn’t be considering this. But he thought of you waking up and catching him in the act, and that made things immeasurably worse. How would you respond? That put a smile on his face. You’d never seen him naked, nor any man if he had to guess. He loved seeing that shy, surprised look on your face his overly confident words brought, and he had no doubt the sight of him pleasuring himself would make you go so red it would leave you speechless for once. Or maybe it wouldn’t, and maybe you would be curious enough to crawl off that bed and come over here, crawl in his lap and-

“Christ,” Arthur whispered, in the same sorry state he had been in that bath, thinking then of what he would do with you on the first bed you’d shared. Only now, he had no reason to feel guilty over wanting you like that. He had half a mind you wanted the same from him. Or he hoped you did, at least. If how you had responded to his touch the last time was any indication, you certainly did.

And then Arthur was thinking of what he knew he shouldn’t be, because it would lead to his hand drifting downward when he really shouldn’t allow for such things. He thought of his fingers between your legs, all those perfect sounds you made. He thought of your whispered fervor, the words don’t stop cutting through him worse than any bullet. He wanted that again. By God, he was desperate enough to wake you for it. But he wouldn’t. He would let you rest and have what little peace he could offer. Because what he was considering wasn’t quite peace so much as it was demanding, outright gratification. A desperation he could no longer tame and one he hoped to drag from you right alongside him. But again, as much as it killed him, he would wait for your desire to match his. And as he pulled another cigarette out of his ever-dwindling stash to distract him in the meantime, he knew what he felt for you must be real—nothing had ever nagged him so bad as to make him more honorable. And there was something to be said for that.

Two months and fifteen days. You woke up to the ceiling of yet another rented room, plagued by the thought of your parents’ deathdate. Your mother had been keeping up with the days, if only for some way to pass the time, and here you were doing the same two and a half months later, nearly to the day. It had been a Wednesday. The ninth of September. And now it was nearing the end of November, and all you could hold onto was how much you regretted not marking their graves with their birthdates and deathdates. With crosses bearing names you were proud to display but couldn’t bear to part with at the time, just like your own.

You looked to the windows lining the wall, noting the gray sky beyond. It was snowing again. It had been for nearly the entirety of the past week, though part of you wished it would give. There were many things you wished would give, namely the ache in your chest at the constant absence of your parents’ guidance. As far as you had come without it, you knew you could survive on your own, but that guidance was a crutch you would have loved to feel one last time. Comforting in its surrender.

Your eyes flicked to the man propped up against the wall, one leg bent at the knee and hat slung low over his eyes. He was either asleep or resting, and you didn’t want to disturb him either way. He didn’t allow himself to do so very often after the two of you had gotten so tangled with the law, but he deserved this. He was toughened, hardened by a life you would never have come out of alive. It made him strong in a way you wanted to grant respite to. Strong in a way you knew he never would himself. Stubborn, more like, but you couldn’t deny you recognized that only because you were the same.

Turning on the bed, a loud creak resulted that had Arthur raising his hat brim to look at you. Part of you wanted to pretend to be dozing anyway like you used to do as a child, but you met his eye instead. Held that stare until it turned contemplative. Until you were both looking beyond the eyes into the soul beneath.

“Didn’t want to sleep up here?” you said softly.

Arthur looked to the window, like of all things, that was what finally made him meek.

“You needed some sleep. And didn’t leave me much room besides.”

You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. When he turned back to you, all you could say was, “It’s snowing again.”

“Yeah,” he said in a manner that made you recall the secret he had bestowed to you—something no one else knew about him. Your very own piece of him.

“And you don’t like the cold, do you?” you teased.

He scoffed. “No.”

Stubborn and gruff. You were grinning as you said, “That’s too bad. Guess I don’t have to face my shortcomings quite like you do.”

“Meanin’?” he said, annoyance in his voice though you knew he was curious enough not to drop it.

“The postman,” you admitted. Then he was letting out a laugh.

“I guess not.” He shook his head and looked back to the gray light of the nearest window. And something about doing what you had just done to ground yourself made you ache for him.

“Come up here.”

The words were out of your mouth in a second. There wasn’t an ounce of regret in you, not even when he looked to you with questioning eyes.

You scooted back and patted the bed in front of you. He didn’t make a fuss about it—just rose and walked over, his spurs jingling with each step. He swiped his hat from his head and sat, holding your eye as he folded his lumbering frame down on the bed beside you. You lay facing each other when he set his hat on your head, an action so fond you nearly choked up with it.

He smiled at you, likely because of the way his hat was much too big and sat crookedly, covering one of your eyes completely. You had the sudden urge to give him yours, but it was on the floor behind you, and you wouldn’t move enough to ruin this perfect moment with him. He was never so…tender. Especially not with the way he looked at you. Like it was a privilege to do so.

You tilted his hat so you could see him out of both eyes and smiled at him. “What?”

He opened his mouth to speak but hesitated. “Just…”

He took a moment. You would have given him all the time in the world to know what that look was for.

“You,” he admitted on an outward breath. “Ain’t what I expected.”

“How so?”

His eyes flicked away then, like he wasn’t used to this kind of talk. He obviously wasn’t, as you’d never gotten this much from him before, but it still softened you to see him so nervous over it. Like he was trying hard to get the words right.

“I didn’t expect you to be so…alive.”

Blue eyes met yours on the last word, and they nearly took your breath. Because he understood you in a way you hadn’t realized. You’d never been so proud to be called such a mundane thing. But it meant the world to you.

“I didn’t either,” you admitted. “I suppose I have you to thank for that.”

He made a huff of surprise. Or maybe disbelief.

“I mean it,” you told him. “As much as you like to grate on my nerves, I think you’re good for me.”

“Am I?” he said, a tease in his tone.

“You are.”

“Well, I…” He trailed off, his gaze averting again. His breathing quickened and grew heavy. You were willing to bet he would kill for a cigarette right about now. But you let his words hang, hoping he would finish. Hoping he would voice what you already felt.

“I’m glad I met you,” he said lowly. “You’re pretty damn good for me too, and I ain’t just saying that because you saved my neck.”

You chuckled. “No?”

He shook his head, those blue eyes flashing. But your gaze was suddenly drawn to his throat, to the subtle line you hadn’t noticed before. He had remnants of that noose on his skin, a slightly reddish-purple scar on his throat. It looked to be healing still, like he may rid himself of it yet. You hoped he did. That was a grim reminder of something he hadn’t deserved.

Without really thinking, you reached out and touched his skin, running your thumb over the edge of the mark. He flinched but didn’t push back.

“I thought I lost you,” you whispered.

He shrugged this off, catching your wrist and tugging it away. “Ah, I’ll survive yet. Besides, look at you now. You would have been fine without me.”

“No.” You met his eyes, needing him to know how serious you were. “No, I wouldn’t have.”

He stumbled a little over your hard gaze but went on. “I have no doubt you could have made it to your folks without me by that point.”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

Again, he hesitated. Just watched you.

“I would have been heartbroken all over again, Arthur.”

This shocked him. Surprisingly, after everything the two of you had been through and blatantly felt for each other, he was still taken aback to hear that you cared so much.

“I couldn’t—can’t—do this without you.”

He studied you for a beat. Then, a little gruffly, “Me neither.”

It was your turn to be shocked.

“I mean…” he went on, trying hard to get his words right. “I don’t want to.”

And there it was. Just what you had been hoping so deep down that you wouldn’t even admit it to yourself—how much you wanted him to stay. How badly you hoped he would pick you over his old life.

“Me either,” you whispered.

His eyes flicked back and forth between yours, his hand finding the side of your face. You thought he would speak again, but instead he leaned forward and brought his lips to yours. It was all you ever needed to know, better than any word he could speak.

Within seconds, you moved into him, closing the space between your bodies. The kiss was slow but loving, just like the two of you. Slow to admit anything to each other but sure of it once that fondness was shared.

You broke away from him, finally finding your courage. “When we get to North Platte, I’d like you to consider staying. With me.”

The look he leveled you with was devastating. Pure shock. Awe at being so adored.

Instead of answering, his strong arms came around you and pulled you down, turning you beneath him as he kissed you. He kissed you hard, and you returned it. The act was plenty answer enough about how he felt.

Before you had even a measure of your fill of him, he broke away. But then he moved down, his mouth finding your throat just like it had in that old barn.

This, you thought. This, with him, was all there was. And you wanted all of him.

“Arthur,” you breathed, his lips like fire lighting your skin. He stopped and met your eye. “Teach me.”

His gaze went dark, but he asked anyway. “Teach you what?”

“All of it. I want all of you.”

He studied you. Then, quietly, “You sure?”

“More than I’ve ever been.”

His mouth crashed to yours. His hands skimmed against your sides until he grabbed your hips and pinned them flat to the bed. Then he was moving down again, fervent. Deliberate as he started with your boots, just like the last time. You were a bundle of anticipation as you watched him, felt him. But this time, you wouldn’t stand for him to do all the work himself.

Once he had your shoes off, you came forward and pushed him down to the bed instead. You knelt over him and started taking off his boots, unbuckling his gun belt. You didn’t care that you hadn’t done this and didn’t know what in the hell to do other than copy what he had done to you the last time. You shed your own coat and leaned forward, kissing him as you ran your arms through the sleeves, shedding the burly garment. And you kept kissing him as you brought his coat over his shoulders, letting him lean up as you pulled it away from his back and arms. Once he had one arm free, he wrapped it around you and pulled you tight against him as he kissed you hard, landing you right in his lap. His tongue was desperate against yours, and you could feel every inch of your arousal explode at the feeling of him so close. Of what was to come.

Eventually, the two of you parted enough for him to get more of your layers off. But your focus was never so sharp as it became when you went to undo the buttons of his shirt and union suit. Each inch of skin revealed was a gift. He was muscled and broad, with hair lining his chest and scars on his slightly freckled skin. One jagged pink line just under his collarbone drew your eye, and you kissed it. Your mouth was never so addicted to someone as it was when you started kissing his chest, moving upward, toward his neck. Then, finally, his mouth. Nothing was ever so perfect. He let out a satisfied breath and laid back down, content to let you kiss him. You were just the same. You suddenly wished you could draw like he could so that you could record this moment in your memory forever—what it looked like. You on top of him in nothing but your chemise and pants, sure as you kissed him. Him splayed below you, perfectly content to be there, his broad body encompassing yours and his shirt and union suit halfway off. That was doing things to you that you couldn’t explain. Your barely covered breasts were pushed up against his bare chest, and the heat and friction it brought was pure pleasure. Not to mention his mouth and how fully he took you, exploring every inch of you. One of his hands had fallen to your backside and was squeezing you with the slightest pressure but over and over again so that your bodies moved together. It was so good you needed more.

Finally finding the will to back off him again, you took his shirt and threw it aside before beginning to unbutton his pants. His head fell back to the bed, and he let out a low groan when your hands worked over what you were willing to guess was the most sensitive part of him. The anticipation to see his bare body ate at you so that you sped up, slipping his pants from his long, muscled legs. All that remained on him was the bottom half of his union suit, and the material was thin enough for you to see the outline of a hard bit of muscle running alongside his thigh and toward his belly. You knew next to nothing about a man’s anatomy but knew this was how one differed from a woman. So, without really thinking, you laid your hand on him there. He let out a groan so arousing you wanted this to happen already, wanted to feel that pleasure he had wrought from you so easily before.

You moved back up his body and started kissing him when he flipped you again, laying you underneath him. The sight was, again, something you’d never forget. Those broad, strong shoulders your gaze kept snagging on shifted and flexed as he worked the buttons of your pants. His chest did too, every scar moving under his strength. His arms were equally distracting, and you knew then it was no wonder people were easily intimidated by him. But you weren’t. And you admired every inch of him you could see as he slid your pants off and made to push your chemise up your chest.

“I’m making the same deal with you as before,” he said lowly as he admired your body. “You don’t like anything about this, and you tell me. I’ll stop.” His eyes met yours in their sincerity.

“You know I won’t stop you,” you breathed, the words coming out feminine and needy.

“We got a deal?” he said anyway.

You nodded. And because you remembered he preferred you to say it aloud, “Yes.” Then he pushed your chemise up and over your breasts, over your head and arms until he was dragging it all away. All your hesitation and inexperience, gone. All of it lost in the wake of his want of you.

He immediately brought his mouth down to your nipple, the feeling of warmth it brought just like last time. You’d forgotten how perfect it felt. You brought your hand to the back of his head, playing with the short strands as your mouth fell open in pleasure. He was moving against you this time, his heavy body lining against yours in a way that drove you mad.

You let out a moan at a particularly harsh swirl of his tongue, then did it again when his free hand found your other breast. God above, you could feel this for an eternity and never tire of it. But this wasn’t just about you.

Your hand slid down his muscled back, down until it reached the edge of his union suit. You wanted it off. Wanted him bare, completely.

You started to tug at the fabric when Arthur’s hands shifted, and his mouth moved away just enough for him to get his balance as he stripped his remaining clothes away. You watched him in awe. You watched as he turned slightly to get the union suit over his feet, the sight of his bare side so muscled and strong like the rest of him wholly distracting. But it wasn’t until he turned back toward you that your gaze caught and held. You could feel his eyes on you, could sense his amusement in his resulting chuckle, but you didn’t care. What you had touched before between his legs was now free of any clothing, a hard line of muscle just like the rest of him that stood erect against his body. The sight alone swallowed you in arousal.

He clambered closer, beginning to speak. “You-”

Your hand was around that proud length before he could say another word. He hissed a breath at your touch, and you quickly let go, thinking you’d done something wrong.

“Christ, woman,” he mumbled, nearly falling on top of you in his fervor to kiss you again.

“I’m sorry,” you said into his mouth, not knowing what it was you’d been trying, only that you couldn’t resist.

He pulled away and looked into your eyes, his gaze full and heavy as the smirk beneath it. “Shit, don’t apologize. I’d prefer you did it again if it wouldn’t cut this meetin’ so short.”

You were more confused by that than anything but didn’t respond, especially when he leaned down to kiss you and you felt that length against your thigh, hard and impossible to ignore.

You moaned into his mouth, feeling his hand begin to skim down your side. His fingers brushed over the bumpy, scarred skin near your ribs and hesitated. He broke away, looking down at the scar he had mended back together himself. His fingers ran across it, caressing it. A wordless apology for what had happened to you. The touch made conflicting emotions fight to be free from deep within you. Because the scar was a painful reminder of what would never go away, a loss so potent you could cry over it even now. But you wouldn’t, because you were equally as enthralled with Arthur’s loving touch, with how he had stitched you back together both physically and emotionally. He was still doing it to this day. And the touch was a tangible reminder—how much he would surrender himself over to you just to make you somewhat whole again. Something you’d never thought you would be gifted by him but, you were beginning to learn, something he did naturally. Kind, selfless man.

Arthur brought his mouth down to your side and pressed a kiss to that scar, tender and patient. It nearly brought tears to your eyes.

“Kiss me,” you whispered, needing to put your thoughts elsewhere. Needing him to put the pieces of you back together again one more time.

He obliged you. All sadness was lost as his hand drifted downward and between your legs, a blazing heat taking its place. Just like before, he worked his fingers against you as a slickness gathered there, urging you to rock against him. And you did, a bundle of anticipation over waiting for what you had felt last time—his finger sliding inside of you. But he took his time and circled his thumb around those nerves again, making you arch into his touch.

After enough of this, it turned into a pleasurable sort of torture. You broke the kiss. “Arthur,” you warned, though it sounded more like begging. And perhaps you were.

He let out a low laugh that caught on every inch of your arousal. “Just making sure you’re ready for me. Don’t want to hurt you, darlin’.”

Darling. How endearing. Now that was a nickname you could grow used to.

You considered what else he’d said and remembered that slight feeling of discomfort at his finger moving inside of you, like your body wasn’t used to such things. But you also remembered how good it felt to get beyond that feeling, that and his chosen nickname enough to have you wrapping your arms around his neck and tugging him back down in a kiss. He let out a low noise this time, more of a satisfied breath. And it was enough to have your tongue finding his as his finger dipped inside of you. You froze, completely focused on the feeling. Arthur took control of the kiss, of everything, as he moved his hand against you. You were breathing heavy in seconds, the feeling beyond satisfaction.

After enough of this for that curling feeling to take hold deep within you, he slipped another finger into you. You were wrong before. That was beyond satisfaction. Your eyes rolled back in your head, and you couldn’t kiss him anymore as you rocked against his hand, completely caught up in those thick fingers moving so persistently. He didn’t miss a beat, his mouth going to your neck instead, pressing hot kisses to the spot just below your ear as you panted for him.

The feeling from before, that explosive feeling you so wanted to experience again, was nearing. “Please,” you whispered, desperate for it. But before Arthur could drag it out of you, his fingers were slipping away. You nearly whimpered at the loss, looking down to see why he’d stopped. Your heartbeat pounded through you, right between your legs, when you saw where he moved. He was settling between your legs, the hard length of him running against the inside of your thigh. And you understood then exactly what this was, what you had asked of him and what he was about to do. To be fit together so perfectly, so completely, that there was no beginning or end between you.

He met your eyes, boxing you in completely beneath his heavy body. “You sure you want this?” His voice was rough with his own arousal.

“Desperately,” you breathed.

That made him smirk, the look of it so perfect on his face you wanted to kiss it away. But he beat you to it, his mouth coming down on yours. And in seconds, his full weight was against your body, and he pushed his hips into yours until you felt the head of his length slip inside of you. You moaned, your head falling back to the bed with how perfect and full it felt, and Arthur grunted as his hands found your head and he devoured you in a kiss, his hips moving slowly and carefully, in and out as shallowly as he could.

You couldn’t get air down but didn’t care as the feeling of him moving inside of you stretched you wide. He went deeper with every rock of his hips, the small bout of pain returning like it had before, but you didn’t stop him. Wouldn’t dare. It was more pleasurable than it was harsh, and besides, it was doing things to him, not just you. Things you wanted to hear and feel from him every moment. He was as lost as you were, beginning to pick up his pace as his mouth on yours became distracted.

You were soon both panting, both riding on pleasure so full and growing fuller the deeper he rocked into you. He finally broke the kiss, bearing all focus on where your bodies met. By now he was so deep inside of you it was impossible to think of him never not being there, like he belonged there. And the thought alone of him taking you like this, making you his, was forcing that tension deep within you to ratchet up at every thrust.

You whined his name. He groaned low and rough in response, shifting his hands to your hips to hold you steady beneath him as he thrust hard. It felt so good you knew you would be unraveling again in seconds. And, to add to that perfect build, you brought one leg up and hooked it around him, making for a better angle for him to sink into you. It was immediately euphoric.

“Y/N,” he groaned, a desperate plea.

And that—the power in that utterance, your name on his lips—was your undoing.

You let out a small cry as your pleasure snapped in two.

He cursed a filthy word, and your world constricted to the feel of him inside of you, rocking those beautiful hips, pulling every ounce of pleasure your body could give. It shot through every part of you. It tore you apart and put you back together all at once. Just like his fondness for you did.

You were letting out one long whine for him when your senses came back. And, you realized, he was saying something. Your name. He was saying your name like a prayer. Never in your life were you so proud for someone to have it, for someone to use it in this way. So reverent and honored by it, like it was a gift to know it and a privilege to speak it.

You loved him then. You were sure of it.

Arthur’s pace stuttered a moment before a breath rattled through his chest and he pulled back, sliding out of you. He half-collapsed on top of you, something warm and wet meeting the skin of your stomach as he groaned like a man utterly unraveled. You knew then he was experiencing the same pleasure you just had. Knowing you’d both felt it, together, because of each other…you were so proud that the feeling fought to be free from your chest.

Arthur drew in each labored breath above you, only propped up by one strong forearm now. The other fell lazily over you as he held the side of your face like he would never release you again. His hair fell over his gaze, and only when he looked up at you did you smile. Just for him.

“Pretty girl,” he murmured, running his thumb along your cheekbone as he went back to attempting to control his breathing.

You blushed under those words but pushed through the flattered feeling it brought you and said what you couldn’t resist. “Was that- was I…okay?”

He scoffed a laugh. “You kidding?”

“I don’t exactly know what I’m doing-”

He cut you off with a less than innocent kiss and pulled back with that smirk on his face. “You were perfect.” He rolled to his back beside you, the bed creaking with his weight. Still, he sucked down air like he couldn’t catch it. That proudness of yours reared its head again at the sound. “So perfect,” he continued, “That I’m gonna need to do it all over again just to be sure it’s as perfect as I remember.”

Now that, you could get behind. Those muscles low in your belly were already tightening at the mere mention of again. But before you could turn to him and coax him into repeating the act, he was leaning over the side of the bed, his strong back flexing with the movement. The sound of his satchel opening and shutting filled the room, and then he had a black cloth in his hand and was touching it to your belly. Right—you’d forgotten about that wetness from before, and now you watched as he wiped whatever it was away.

“What’s that?” you had the courage to ask.

Arthur’s eyes flicked up to yours, and that incessant smirk returned. “‘Course,” he said, swiping the last of it away and tossing the cloth aside. “Forgot you knew as much about this as I do about living up in them mountains.”

“Very funny.”

He snickered. “It’s…well. When a man finds his pleasure, that’s what happens.” His expression filled with amusement as he shifted to his side, propping up on an elbow. “You don’t know nothing about this, do you? About being with child?”

You shook your head. “I figured sex leads to pregnancy, but I’ve never really thought past that.” And suddenly, the very idea had worry blooming sharp and fierce within you. “I won’t…I’m not going to get pregnant, am I?”

He snickered again and shook his head more with amusement than any sort of affirmation. “No, you won’t.”

“How are you so sure-”

“Relax,” he teased, drawing the word out. “The only way that could happen is if I’d done that inside of you.”

You felt Arthur’s smirking stare like a brand then, because just those words had your arousal flaring. Did part of you…want that?

You must have made a face, because Arthur pushed you on it. “What?”

“Nothing,” you insisted.

He chuckled, the sound making you turn away or risk admitting that particular genius.

“Can’t lie to me, darlin’.”

There was that word again. You turned back to him, finding you were watching his mouth of all things. “You finally landed on a decent nickname, then.”

“You like that one?”

God, his smile. The way he said those words. You were a mess of fondness over his annoyingly handsome face when you quipped, “Much better than the others.”

“What, nameless or sweetheart?”

You swatted at his bare chest and immediately regretted it when your hand met with hard muscle. “Damn you,” you muttered, but you were smiling as you said it. Stupid, perfect man. He smiled right back.

“At least you never have to call me nameless again,” you offered.

His smile turned thoughtful. Content. “No. I don’t.”

You remembered then how he had said your name before. It ate you up inside to think he had only used it in the moments that mattered most. The first time being when you’d offered it to him, something that led to your walls coming down right alongside his. Then moments ago, giving up the last pieces of yourselves to each other. And maybe that’s what that utterance had been to him—a surrender. The damning truth that you both felt too strongly to shy away from it any longer. There was no more space for reluctance to stay. There was no more time for it either.

You recalled your request before all this, asking him to stay with you. He’d never answered, but when he said your name with so much care, any worry about the matter vanished. Because there was love in that word. He felt for you just as you felt for him. And that was more answer than anything else he could have said because he had used the perfect word to make you understand—the word most important to you of any of them. Not a yes, but a confession. Not an acceptance, but a name. The one word you had left to hold dear. And looking at him now smiling down at you, you felt that fondness and understanding from him better than you’d ever felt it from anyone.

Instead of any response, you kissed him. Acceptance in your own form. And just as soft and supple as a yes on his lips, he kissed you back.

_________

tag list: @nayomi247 @ultraporcelainpig @photo1030 @spiritcatcherxo @calcarius445 @meet-me-backstage @marygillisapologist @formula1mount @oziozzioslo @lunawolfclaw @c1gs-coffee

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #high honor arthur morgan #rdr2 arthur morgan #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 #fanfic #writing #nsft #lemon fanfic

48 notes · View notes

yeowangies · 6 months

Text

Me with no makeup, you in the bathtub

❧

PAIRING: Renji/AFAB!Reader RATING: Mature CONTENTS: Established relationship, Comfort, A little explicit sexual content by the end WARNINGS: Mentions of mental health issues (I don't go deep into them) WORDCOUNT: 1900

Summary: Renji takes care of you after a few difficult days.

Notes:

This was @actuallysaiyan idea, and I wrote it for the two of us because we both needed the comfort

“I said I was fine, Renji!” You said, reluctantly letting yourself be dragged by your boyfriend to the bathroom. “You don’t have to do this!”

“Stop complaining!” Renji practically yelled, as he tightened his grip of the hand around your waist. “You were sick until yesterday! You have to take a bath, it will help you, so don’t argue with me!”

The entire block probably heard him with how loud he was yelling. It was an embarrassing trait to be so loud sometimes, but it mostly amused you, so you didn’t complain any further.

You had been sick lately, too stressed and busy to sleep properly, it was obvious it was going to happen. Renji had seized the opportunity to take care of you for the last couple of days, and after resting and eating, a bath was next in his plans. Which, honestly, was going to make you even more sleepy.

You expected him to leave you in the bathroom, but once he helped you undress, handing you a robe to cover yourself in the meantime, he started taking off his own clothes.

“What are you doing?” You asked him, eying him curiously. As if you haven’t seen his wonderful naked body before.

“I’m getting in with you.” Renji said, arching an eyebrow. “Did you think I was going to let you bathe alone? What if you fall asleep and drown?”

“I think you’re being a little too dramatic, babe.” You smiled, amused.

Still a little tired from the fever you had only until yesterday, you rested your hand on the counter, almost stumbling backwards in a moment of weakness. Renji jumped to grab your arm, holding you firmly, and looked at you with knowing eyes.

“You were saying?”

You rolled your eyes, but remained silent.

Besides, why would you complain further when Renji stood fully naked in front of you? Tattooed body exposed to you, muscles flexing as he got into the tub already filled with warm water. You blushed a little as you got rid of your robe, taking his hand as he guided you to join him, settling between his legs. With a hand around your shoulders, he brought you closer, pressing your back to his chest as he planted a kiss on your neck.

“Better?” He asked soothingly, squeezing you in his hold.

“Surprisingly, yes.”

“What do you mean ‘surprisingly’?” Renji asked, pinching your side and making you giggle.

You stayed in silence for a while, basking in the presence of each other, listening to the gentle sound of water trickling and sloshing with your moves. It was a mystery if the actual bath was comforting, or if Renji's arms wrapped tightly around you were soothing your body more. You were much more inclined to believe it was the latter; Renji was simply made to be comforting. You might as well have stayed in bed to cuddle, it would have had the same effect.

However, you were thankful he had insisted on getting you out of the bed. Sometimes you could get too much in your own head, and he knew that too well to let you stay in bed for too long. It was inevitable if you were sick, but as soon as you got a little better, the scenery had to change, and he was more than willing to help you.

Bless his heart.

“I know you said you didn’t have a fever anymore,” Renji commented, gently putting his hand on your forehead. “But you still feel too warm.”

“I’m fine, Renji,” You rolled your eyes, letting him play doctor as he measured your temperature for a few seconds before putting his hand away. “You’re acting like such a mom.”

“What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t take care of you?”

You didn’t expect him pinching your side again, and you squeaked, making the water slosh and spill onto the bathroom floor.

“You should be the kind of boyfriend who doesn’t tease his girlfriend!”

“That’d be too boring now, wouldn’t it?” Renji grinned before planting a mushy kiss on your cheek.

You let it slide because your heart skipped a beat so strongly you worried you might suddenly die.

It was a silly thing that sometimes invaded your brain, but you were concerned that you might actually like Renji more than he actually liked you. Evidence proved that at the very least he liked you just as much; taking care of a sick person was something not every partner would do, as basic as it was, and he actually helped you before you even considered asking him for help. But your own insecurities got the best of you sometimes, and trepidation slowly but surely crept inside your heart.

“What’s up?” He suddenly asked, and you jolted slightly in his arms.

“What?”

“You tensed up suddenly, do you feel sick again?”

“Oh… No, I’m fine.”

“Tell me.” Renji pressed you as closely and tightly as he could, nuzzling his nose against your neck.

You sighed, pondering on whether or not to be fully honest, moderately honest, or just straight up lie.

Since he had been so caring with you this time, you figured you owed him sincerity.

“Do you love me, Renji?” You asked quietly.

“Huh? Wh-Why are you suddenly asking me that?! Of course I love you!”

His face was almost the same shade as his hair when you turned to look at him, and warmth spreaded through your heart.

“You didn’t just ask me that to embarrass me, did you?” Renji inquired, burying his face in your hair.

“Is it embarrassing to say you love me?” You teased him.

“You know that’s not-”

“I’m kidding!” You giggled as he huffed, and you relaxed in his arms, leaning your head on his shoulder. You were relieved by a whole lot, though the anxiety you had there was still there, even if it was shrinking. It was always going to be there, no matter what you did, so while he had answered you truthfully, you might need to be more honest to let him understand you better. “I was just asking ‘cause, you know… I have doubts sometimes…”

“About me?” Renji asked, and you could see his own nervousness when he asked you that, and you mentally slapped yourself in the face.

“No, not about you! I love you, it’s just… am I not too much sometimes?” Those words slipped from your lips with a quiet voice, and when he didn’t reply right away, you went on. “This is not because of you, but sometimes I think I feel things too deeply. And no matter what I do, it’s never enough, like, how can someone love me, right, if what I do just feels like the bare minimum? And you know how sensitive I get about so many things and I can’t even help it, it must be annoying as hell for you to deal with me… So what is there to love?”

You sighed, voice softened the more you spoke until you felt like the words melted into thin air.

“That’s weird. I never actually thought of you that way.”

“No?” You sniffled, realizing you were closer to tears than you initially thought.

“If I did, I wouldn’t be here, would I?” Renji replied in a gentle tone. “I know you overthink, way too much, it’s not like I didn’t notice. But that’s not a deal breaker for me. If anything I wish you wouldn’t think so lowly of yourself, or of me. What kind of man am I if I tell you that I love you when I don’t?”

Renji had a way with words sometimes. As much as he was hot headed and smug, there was a sensitivity to him that you weren’t sure if he even knew about it. He would certainly be embarrassed if you pointed it out, but you appreciated it more than anything.

“Besides, there’s so much to love about you.” He continued, his hand reaching for yours inside the bathtub until your fingers were intertwined. “You feel things too deeply, you said, so? I think that’s an awesome thing. You’re considerate, sweet, you work hard. You always tell me to eat well and rest. Not to mention you’re hot, but I’m sensing that’s not what you wanna hear right now.”

You chuckled, and you felt him smirk against the back of your neck.

“That’s always a nice thing to hear.”

“You’ve been there when I needed you, so I’m gonna be here when you need me, and I’ll even carry you if that’s what it takes to keep you going.”

Renji wrapped his arms back around you, where they were when you first got into the bathtub, and squeezed you in his arms for the umpteenth time before running his hands up and down your sides, breathing softly against the skin of your neck. Having him so close, and the wonderful words he had just said to you, gave you comfort, and your heart swelled in your chest with affection.

“Thank you, babe.” Turning your head to the side, you pressed a sweet kiss to his cheek. “You’re so sweet, you know that?”

“Don’t compliment me now,” Renji rolled his eyes, and you watched him with amusement as redness spread across his cheeks.

With a hand sliding up his jaw, you guided him to meet your lips in a soft kiss. He hummed contently when you tangled your fingers in his hair, and you were upset that he still had his ponytail and hadn’t let it loose. He inhaled sharply as you deepened the kiss, parting your lips to let him slide his tongue across yours.

The softness and heat of it all gave you goosebumps all over, reminding you that it has been a while since you’ve been intimate. You knew Renji had your wellbeing in his mind at the moment because he hadn’t attempted to touch you more than what was necessary, but you actually needed him then, needed to feel his affection for you.

Pressing your body as possibly close to his as you could, you purposely moaned into the kiss as you noticed he was already hard. His hands rubbed your sides and waist before sliding up and settling on your breasts, squeezing them softly. You sighed, tugging at his hair tie and letting it fall down his shoulders, happy to thread your fingers through it.

“Just relax,” Renji whispered huskily, dragging his lips along your cheek and planting a kiss on your jaw. “I’ll take care of you.”

The trust you had for him made it easy to unwind, especially when one of his hands traveled down your abdomen, towards the place you needed him the most. He kept pressing kisses along your neck as his fingers reached your slit, tentatively dragging them over your folds before pressing one inside your entrance, an easy task since you were already aroused. You moaned, closing your eyes once he started pumping it slowly and carefully.

With his thumb rubbing your clit, Renji got another finger inside you. The heat inside your abdomen began to grow impossibly fast, jolts of pleasure making your thigh shiver, and your mind soon went blank.

“I’ll always take care of you, baby.” Renji pressed a kiss underneath your ear before dragging his tongue along your earlobe as he picked up the speed of his digits.

#bleach imagines #bleach fic #bleach smut #bleach x reader #renji x reader #renji abarai x reader #renji x you #renji abarai x you #renji smut #my writing

98 notes · View notes

tsykku · 1 year

Text

I am having q!tubbo brain rot so have a slice of it.

I am so curious as to which direction Tubbo will take his character. Because nothing what q!tubbo does seems malicious or sometimes even intentional yet so many people take issue with him or his behaviour. And he is somewhat aware of that while at the same time, completely oblivious as to why or how deep the conflict goes.

You have the federation who cannot stand his arse. Who we know is paying extra attention to Tubbo and wants to arrest him the minute he even does something slightly illegal. While they have not arrested him yet, it is only a matter of time. So what do they do in the meantime? They use him as a scapegoat to nerf certain game mechanics or punish him extra harshly in comparison to others who did the exact same things or worse. Yet for some reason, the other qsmp members are under the impression that Tubbo never gets punished and that he is solely to blame for the create nerf, breeding animosity.

Then next, you have the antagonistic fights with Etoiles which started carefree and rather playful but now have been escalating in q!Etoiles telling the codes that Tubbo works with the federation. To be honest, Tubbo is absolutely partly to blame for this one with his cheeky comments to Etoiles about losing his fight with the code. However, it adds another dynamic layer of conflict to the situation.

Finally, you have the vendetta of Bad and Aypierre against Tubbo due to the controversial Tubhole. You can argue all day long about the logistics of Tubhole and whether Bad and Pierre are valid in their objections against it. But the facts remain that it is within Tubbo's rights to do so and that they have not given him the grace period to let him make it into a good build. It literally is still a work in process that has been going on for less than 24 Minecraft hours. And even if it turns out to be ugly, the fact that Tubbo has been building the Tubhole with only create machines is fucking cool and makes it worth it (in my opinion). Moreover, Bad and Pierre both have similar big projects and their concern that it is different because of the close proximity to spawn feels a bit hypocritical as there are other (big) projects near spawn that cause similar amounts of lag.

And now this vendetta has gone from convincing other islanders of how Tubbo must be stopped to them framing Tubbo for the kidnapping of Ron to Fred. A being that everyone on the island at this point knows is important to Tubbo. A relationship which is one of the only ones Tubbo has left, besides the morning crew. We already know how much the relationship between Fred and Tubbo affects Tubbo's emotions so what will losing Fred or their trust do to him?

So now you have this huge cluster of events that puts q!Tubbo in a situation where everyone is against him, the federation, the code entities and most of the islanders as well. An exception can be made for the morning crew however they do not seem to take Tubbo or his concerns seriously, treating it like the mischief and matters of a kid.

And most interestingly, it is still not clear what makes Tubbo so special. Is it his use of create mod? Aypierre, Ramon and Dapper do something similar. Is it his curiosity and distrust of the federation? Cellbit, Badboyhalo en Bagi are right there with him. Is it his apparent greed or selfishness with regard to resources? It is not like he has never shared them or that gathering resources is sole motivation. Is it his knowledge of Minecraft mechanics to break the lore/server? Philza and his fourth wall breaking say hello as does Aypierre. Is it his age then? His relentless attitude to anything that catches his attention? His endless curiosity?

It will be so interesting to see where all these points of contention will lead to and how q!Tubbo will react to it or change as a result of it. Currently, his only concerns are the potential romance with Fred and finishing the Tubhole so that he can get along with everyone again. So he clearly does not know yet how much trouble he truly is in or how the cards are stacked against him...

#qsmp #tubbo #q!tubbo #character analysis

210 notes · View notes

dronebiscuitbat · 2 months

Text

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 48)

Twenty minutes later, N came back online, he was dizzy, his entire body felt as though it was filled with radio static and his core was stuttering, seemingly still fluttering from what it had just experienced.

There was a warm body on top of him, collapsed on his chest, his arm moved on its own to wrap around her, his breath seemed to catch up and come out in some astonished half-choke.

Had that really just happened?

“U-uzi?” He found his voice though it was horse and husky, and he got no response, his girlfriend continuing to lie there limp. He began to get worried, had he overloaded her somehow? Fried her processors?

He lifted her up to face him, her visor reading [Reboot, Data Overload!] but she was very clearly still online, they were also still linked together, the wire shifting as what it was connected to moved. His worry dissipated, she was fine, just still rebooting.

In the meantime, he attempted to disconnect, he lightly pulled on the wire only to find that her port had locked him in, leaving him stuck there until she woke up. So he leaned back into the pillow and looked at the ceiling, basking in the afterglow.

Uzi's system gave a beep before a low groan left her lips, clearly feeling the same dizzy feeling that had hit him when he first woke up, N went to hold her steady, one hand on her back and the other on her cheek, tilting her head up to look at him.

“Welcome back.” He smiled at her, a laugh tugging on his lips as she slowly looked up at him, embarrassed at herself, even so, her eyelights seemed to smile at him.

“Hey…” She replied back, her voice soft and small, she tried to pull back, either to get off him or just to get a better look when the short cable connecting them stopped her, painfully yanking on both of them.

“Oh… we're still…” She said, still a little out of it, she lightly brushed over the wire, fingers tangling in it, N watched her curiously, she was acting… off.

“Are you okay?”

At that she seemed to look at him, really look at him, her eyelights scanning every inch of his face before something overtook her and she kissed him. It wasn't hungry or urgent like before, but it was passionate and they both found themselves melting into it before she pulled away.

He chuckled as they remained with their visors pressed together, it was clear that neither of them wanted to get up just yet, he wasn't sure he'd be able to anyway, his legs felt numb.

N couldn't help but run his hands along her silicone softly, in which she replied by humming in contentment and caressing the seam of his visor with her thumb.

Whatever enjoyment they got out of holding each other like this seemed to be enhanced, Uzi's edges were nonexistent, leaving her as vulnerable as she would ever be and N's anxiety had run off to find it, because that was gone for the moment too.

“I love you so much.” He almost whispered in her ear, causing her to giggle lightly and bury her head into the crook of his neck, he could feel her smiling against him, making a similar smile tug the corners of his mouth.

“I love you too.” She replied equally as softly, and she finally sat up as far as thr cable would allow, she grabbed the end of in before sighing and moving her hand directly underneath to where it plugged in. There was a small click. And they were disconnected, the wire immediately snapped back inside the compartment over his core, causing him to wince as it smacked his casing.

“S-sorry, probably should have warned you.” She manually closed her compartment, before reaching up and doing the same to his, the low buzzing of his core ceased, and the radio static of his limbs seemed to let up a little.

“It's alright.” He leaned forward and held her before taking them both back down to lay on the bed, she was still mostly on top of him, although now her head rested on his chest.

“Did that… really just happen?” She asked after a moment, sounding like she didn't belive herself, he gave her a breathy laugh and used his hand to massage her back, he felt… complete? satisfied? They had become one, he had known her every thought and feeling, and she knew his. It was… incredible.

“Mmhm.” He replied, squeezing her closer even if it was physically impossible, he gave her a kiss on the forehead and buried his face into her hair.

Had she always had a smell? Because right now she smelled like freshly forged metal and citrus, a strange but oddly pleasant smelling combo.

“That was amazing…” He breathed out, causing her to laugh again, she looked up at him, nervously glancing to the side.

“Good. I… was afraid I was bad… or something.”

He blinked, almost confused on how or why she'd ever think that.

“It wasn't bad, it wouldn't have ever been bad. It was with you, and you're so, so amazing.” He immediately voiced all these things, making her blush and kiss his visor again, which in turn made him lean down and kiss hers.

“You were too…”

“I didn’t really do anything.”

She looked at him incredulously.

“Are you serious? You wrote, I love you, like fifty times over my display code. That's all I could see!”

Oh, well he was being a little clumsy…

“At least you liked it?”

“Of course I did… you goob.”

Then there was silence for another few minutes, riding the high of their afterglow together, with Uzi ending up tracing small shapes on his chest and around his core, avoiding actually touching it.

N smiled, she was being so soft, her walls had been completely demolished for him, Even before, she would have been embarrassed she was touching him so freely, now she was doing it with a small smile on her face.

“That kinda tickles Zi.” He hummed as he pretty much did the same to her back, avoiding the scars in favor of tracing around them.

She stopped, not responding but curling into him and purring, triggering his own.

Then, as if waiting for the perfect moment. A wail broke through the house like a thunderclap, alerting to two parents to their charge, who had woken up alone on the couch and was very much not happy about it.

“Mm. She has your attitude.” N laughed as Uzi slapped him lightly, slowly rolling off him to crawl out of bed even if she was initially unsteady.

“Hush.”

She got dressed, although only in her skull pajamas and made her way to the living room where Tera was beating her fists into the couch cushions in a genuine tantrum.

“Oh Tera honey, it's okay.” Uzi scooped her up, black blanket and all and the toddler almost immediately settled down, looking up at her mother, albeit with squinted eyes, almost saying “how dare you leave me alone!”

“I'm sorry Jellybean, daddy and I lost track of time.” Uzi nuzzled her daughters visor, causing the girl to let out a peel of giggles as she did it back, clearly not holding much of a grudge.

“Least you don't hold a grudge like me…”

There was a knock at the door. Making Uzi jump and Tera to immediately look at the door in curiosity, it used to just make her cry, but at least now she seemed to understand that it meant someone new was here.

She looked down at herself, her pajamas ruffled her hair a complete wreck. She sighed, hopefully it was someone she knew, this wouldn't be as awkward.

“Coming.”

She made her way to the door, looking over at N who was still in the process of getting dressed, buttoning every single button on his coat took awhile…

She used her solver to pull the door shut for him, then she let the front door swing open. Tera resting mostly in one arm as the other was free to press the button.

Red eyes looked back.

She jumped back, startled. Her other hand immediately flew up to protect Tera's head as her tail immediately wrapped around mother and child, spines flared out and ready to impale the intruder.

The intruder also jumped back, and Uzi suddenly realized that the red eyes didn't belong to who she thought they did. For starters, this drone was clearly a dude.

“Sorry for the scare man! I'm Guy, I uh, work with N?”

Next ->

#murder drones #biscuitbites #nuzi #uzi doorman #serial designation n #n and uzi #oil is thicker then blood #tera doorman #floof #literally just fluff #oh also Uzi gets the absolute shit scared out of her

63 notes · View notes