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hoseoksluna · 1 year ago

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VAPOR, pt III. | jjk ft. myg

pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x steam!oc

genre: smut

word count: 9.9k

summary: the naughtiest of times bring about the greatest of healing.

pinterest board: vapor

warnings: punishment, spanking, oral sex (f. and m. receiving), a little bit of ass play, cum eating, raw sex, multiple orgasms, sex toy included, praise kink, jk smokes:), jk also reveals a past pain:(

note: nawt my best work, but i guess it's alright:( here it is, my loves—the very end to the steam series. i enjoyed indulging myself in this world and i'd like to thank all of you for allowing me to do that. thank you so much for all the love and support. i do all of this for you:) wink wink. this is pure smut and nothing else, and i hope you like this at least a little bit. i love you all so much, pwease give me your feedback, thank you. <3

Jungkook thought brushing his teeth with you in the morning while you wore his boxers and stole one of his white, ribbed tank tops was heaven enough. That was until he couldn’t lay his sleepy gaze off of you when you sat on his balcony with a cigarette between your two fingers and a cup of strong coffee in the other two and your thumb.

Still can’t.

He’s never been a morning person. To him, all mornings resembled some kind of hell that you suffer through until afternoon rolls around until you finally awaken. But seeing you like this, delighted, with two of your pleasures… he might become an early bird. Wake up each morning with joy just to see yours. Just to watch you be at complete peace, puffing out the smoke out into the sun-breathed air.

The weather is a stark contrast to yesterday’s funeral of clouds. Not one is in sight, sun rays envelop the heavens in a golden light that spills through your hair—half done in a messy knot of some sort at the back of your head while wisps of shorter strands frame your face and your neck. He’s given you his spirally hair tie that he wore in his pre-military days. Your eyes almost popped out of their sockets when he told you how long he let his hair grow because he knew shaving his head was inevitable and it served as some kind of strange preparation for him. You brushed your fingers through his hair, then, unbelief painting your face in cutesy colors. As if you tried to feel the long-gone memory of his long tufts of hair that curled at the ends. He was so touched by it—maybe it’s one of the reasons why he can’t stop looking at you now.

It’s dawning on him that you love him. That you’re his. It wasn’t a dream, after all.

And you’re such a stark image of effortless beauty—even with your puffy eyelids and mouth, with your healthily flushed cheeks. How can he not look at you… he fears if he does, you’ll disappear into the thin air. He can’t afford that, not when he went through so much pain to get to this point.

This is his reality now. It’s difficult to get used to. He’d never thought he’d get this lucky. Perhaps, heaven does care about him, wants to see him after all, because it blessed him with you, blessed him with freedom that he can indulge in hand in hand with you.

Jungkook feels an inkling to find a church and kneel at the altar. Thank God for what he’s done for him. Call his dad and tell him that he found Him.

The thought of how happy he’d be fills him with vigor redolent of the last of the summer creeping in. There’s so much of it that Jungkook finds it hard to breathe, his lungs taut with all this joy and love that he feels.

It seems as though this time he will, in fact, live his life happily. Get rid of his alcoholic habits, drink from the fountain of you instead—make that a brand new habit. Keep his paints. Keep the memory of your features and your sleep-tousled hair engraved deeply in his brain so he can transfer it onto his sketchbook. Eternalize you for generations to come. Clutch those papers tight to his chest when God does take him to heaven once his time comes.

Happiness. How did he deserve such a thing?

He sighs, watches you suck the last of your cigarette. The sunlight radiates you with a glow too grand for his eyes to take in and as you breathe out the swirls of smoke, he has to look elsewhere. Your full breasts pebble against his tank top, too stretched out for your small form, and it douses him with liquid tendrils of desire for you. All due to the fact you’re wearing his clothes, that you’re bare underneath them, that your nakedness brought about so much pleasure for him last night—due to the very memory that you didn’t wear your underwear for him because they would get in his way. Fuck, his cock tightens under his joggers, the ones that match those you wore to bed. He hasn’t eaten yet and he thinks you’re the perfect choice of breakfast for the day.

You put out your cigarette in the ashtray he found for you in the cabinet, left behind by the tenants that lived here before him, and a soft smile curls your slumber-kissed mouth. Your irises flick across the width of his chest, across his crossed forearms and biceps and your smile deepens. You cradle your cup of coffee in both of your hands, slouching in your chair. He’ll never tire of the way it feels to be looked at by you. The tendrils of desire thicken in him, flowing rapidly in his bloodstream.

“What do you wanna eat for breakfast?” you ask, and there’s something dangerous about your eyes now, mingling with the light and joy, dimming it little by little. He likes it so much, likes your question all the more, that he props his elbows on his knees and hooks his fingers around the back of yours, thumbs fondling the round bones.

The way his boxers don’t even cover the apex of your thighs, having ridden up so high—he stifles the hiss rising in his throat. They suit you so much he might let you keep them. That is, after he ruins them.

“You,” he murmurs, smirking, and you grin at him so luminously that the speed of his bloodstream slows down. Suddenly, the movement of your hand as you set your cup down is in slow motion—your fingernails provoking him by lightly scratching down his forearms, too. You study his tattoos as you do it, your gaze darkening fully.

You root them at the place, where he’s holding you. Palms flat against the back of his hands. Lean closer to him until you nudge your nose against his. The close proximity will always mess him up, no matter what. He feels himself bespangled by your light, by your celestiality, bringing in the heat until it’s all he knows.

You.

“What if I want to eat you first?” you whisper, head angling to kiss him on his jawline. Oh, he’s already done for; body charged with electricity all over. Your mouth closes over that bone so, so slowly, your tongue licking over that place in the same tempo, causing the hair on his body to stand up to attention.

“Eat what?” He laughs through his nose and you take after him—your giggles a warm rumble that sends tingles down his back, even though all his body longs to do is whimper for you. He knows what you meant, but he simply wants to hear you say it. The memory of the way you rubbed your face in such a private part of him, not just once—but twice, floods his brain and he’s so hard for you that it’s unbearable.

If he doesn’t get his release any time soon, he might combust.

He’d much rather it happens in your mouth. Like it did in the dressing room last night. Oh, fuck. Those winged fuckers are going at it again in his stomach, bringing about his madness for you.

“Your nose first, then your dick.”

It’s now that he lets out that sound—he can’t help it, can’t hold it back. Might need that cigarette of yours, even though he only smokes casually. This is what you do to him.

And you like that sound. You like it so much that you rise to your feet, only to straddle him. And, leaning back, he pushes you towards him until you’re flush against his body. To make you feel how aroused he is for you, your little pussy sitting against his imprint. At the feeling of it through such a thin barrier, you press your hum over his nose, kissing the ball of it with a sweet, soft giggle. His madness evolves into a frustration again and he wonders at the whole concept of it. Now that he has you all to himself, his sexual need for you tends to be on such a raging base, full of yearning, full of frenzy. So intense, so thunderous, so deafening. The world might break apart, fall upon every head with its destruction, if that need remains unfulfilled.

It’s spine-chilling. Absolutely petrifying. And irrevocably thrilling with all its bolts of power.

He kneads your bum with both of his hands, unraveling that melodramatic concept of his titillation for you with the strength he uses to squeeze your flesh with. Jungkook goes as far as to lift you onto your knees, raise the fabric of his boxers to reveal your skin and, holding it taut in his fist, he wetly kisses the red imprint of his hand that he left behind.

And his need flutters with something still yet forbidden.

Yours does, too. And it’s you who voices it out, setting it free like a bird that has been caged for centuries. It touches him, immensely—a deep sea of feelings resurfacing in him, sloshing to and fro, threatening to spill over.

“Spank me.”

Lust and love. A peculiar concoction of it that doesn’t exist in the realm of words. He feels it, feels it with every breath he takes.

“I should, right?” he rasps, dragging his fingernails down your carmine bum, sneaking his fingers around the squishy bottom of the flesh. He might drench his joggers—he didn’t wear his boxers to sleep; you’re wearing them for him. “For wanting to bite my nose off.” He clicks his tongue, squeezing, other hand wraps around your waist, holding you still. “I should spank you until it hurts. Until you cry.”

The most gentle of a moan spouts out of your mouth and he twitches, his need growing—all because you want it as much as he does.

Jungkook lifts his hand in a promise he’s about to do it and you shiver in anticipation.

“Please,” is all you say, but he’s not going to give it to you. He places his hand back in a soft manner, lifting it again to tease you and you wiggle your butt, his boxers still tucked halfway in between, the flesh rippling and he groans. A sight to die for. “I deserve it. Please, do it. I want it.”

He sighs, a wet spot forming in the place of the joggers where his tip is, and he can’t see anything. Can’t see shit when he lifts you up and takes you inside. Can’t see anything but you and the surface of his kitchen island, which he sets you down on, spreading your legs.

Confused by the swift motion, you rise to your elbows, but he pushes you right back down—holding your hips in the air, just like he did last night. You will see what he’s about to do to you, nonetheless. No need for you to strain your arms.

And when he closes his mouth over your clothed pussy, you roll your eyes back, moaning his name so loudly that it echoes throughout the kitchen, rooting around his dripping length. And his arousal for you is so overwhelming, so sensitive that one thrust of his hips against the fabric of his joggers brings him such pleasure coursing through his body that he might as well come like this.

Jungkook rids you of his boxers in a blink of an eye, throwing them somewhere out of his sight. No need for them, either.

Burying his nose in your clit as he licks your slit and plunges his tongue inside, he narrows his eyes at you as yet another wave of pleasure comes down upon him. This time from having you for breakfast, at last. You mewl so sweetly that it drives him to thrust his hips again and he groans, groans so deeply for you. Needs you to know what you’re doing to him.

“You’re gonna be the death of me one day,” he breathes out, lightly dragging the tip of his tongue across your clit before he swallows, hissing at the delight of your taste. You moan, trembling, barely able to take it. Fuck one day, he’s about to die now. “And you’re gonna make me come in my pants like a fucking boy. Is that what you want?”

Jungkook flicks your bud, fleetingly, just to make your sounds shudder in the sudden intensity. You clench your small fists in the air, your tremor so terribly visible and rigorous, and with your breath hitching in your throat, he sucks that delicious part of you into his mouth.

You stammer, badly enough that he begins to feel a sliver of pity for you, not enough for him to stop. He’s ravaging your little princess parts so hard that it takes a few tries for you to get the words out in a steady flow and he doesn’t help you. Doesn’t ease up for you, at all. Flicking, sucking, licking you up all over, rolling his tongue—he simply doesn’t stop, does it so fast that you lose yourself in it, submitting to it with all your being.

And along with your submission come out your words.

In perfect fashion.

“No, I want to suck you off.”

And along with those your orgasm, too.

Jungkook watches you take it, eyes lidded heavily, take all the pleasure he gives to you as it unfolds throughout your quivering body that he holds tightly in his grasp so you wouldn’t fall over. He sucks your clit until his mouth goes numb, opening it to drink you, not letting a drop of your nectar go to waste. You struggle to reciprocate the eye contact and he finds it so endearing that he wants to make you come all over again.

Setting you down, he caresses your wet little pussy with his thumb, palm spread wide across his tank top clothing your tummy. And while you try to catch your breath, he sends rays of his affection down to her the more he looks at her. He loves her so much that he bends down and kisses her. Over and over. Kisses the hickey he left on your left fold, the one below your hip bone as well. And then, he glances at you. Flushed and glowing, a personification of light. A girl most satisfied. So beautiful.

You sit up and the feeling of the coldness of the marble against your sensitive seashell makes you let out a whine, biting your lip briefly before you enclose it around his. You moan into the kiss and Jungkook knows why. He deepens it, hands drifting down your full breasts, your stiffened nipples. The touch makes you hum and grind your pussy against the island, opening your mouth. He takes the opportunity to slip his tongue inside, playing with you, beckoning out your mouth-watering little whines. And when his fingers reach the hem of his tank top, he takes it off of you—your breasts bouncing, the wet spot in his joggers enlarging.

In this position, you’re forehead to forehead. And this time, he doesn’t want to kiss you. No, he wants to talk.

“You taste good, don’t you?” Jungkook husks, an allusion to the way you moaned into the kiss, fists on either side of your outstretched thighs. You bite your lip and furrow your brows, a hand sneaking around his neck. Such horny expression, scraping his madness raw. He’s greedy for more; wants to bleed for you. “Tell me. Tell me how good you taste.”

You sink your teeth so hard into your bottom lip at his words that you whimper once you let go, the pillow so reddened, so cute. The wrinkle between your brows deepens and you grind your hips again. Oh, he’ll put his hand there, on your still needy pussy, as soon as you answer him.

And you do—and his whole bloodstream lines with a river of flames.

“I taste so good,” you whine and he rewards you for your goodness, for that heat. Places his fingers flat underneath your clit, palm up. You immediately roll your hips forward and whisk your eyes back. That sensitive you are, after such an intense orgasm. He swears. Takes it as a sign to rub your bud and, pushing them back with one hand, he gathers your slick and smears it upon it, making it all the more pleasurable for you. Gusts of breaths emit out of your mouth, intertwining with the squeaky sounds of your juices and Jungkook almost drools, aching to eat you out all over again. The feeling of your parted lips, your slipperiness, the softness of your swollen bud—he grows desperate for it.

But he wants you to come like this, too.

“Ride my fingers,” he whispers, just for you to hear and not the angels surrounding him, whose favor he gained. “Come on. Grind your pussy on them, sweetheart.”

You mewl and you listen, straightening your spine. Use his shoulders for stability as you swing your hips back and forth. The silkiness of your flesh, the wetness that makes this a smooth ride for you—he moans, sucking in his breath each time. And then you become so terribly whiny, eyes squeezed tight, that he can’t help but to strum your clit as fast as he can. Your shudders begin again, your breasts rippling and he just thinks they’re asking for his tongue.

A flick of the muscle on your nipple. You cry out, arching your back, halting the movement of your pelvis and he takes over. Takes merely a minute to make you come all over his hand and scream out his name.

And then… then he grabs you by the back of your neck and pulls you in—almost nose to nose. A gesture to make you listen. To make you pay attention to the words he wants to say to you.

“This is what you deserve,” he purrs, speaking of the former mention of punishment, studying the way your eyes grow bigger than they already are. “To come again and again for me—and what’s more, I’m not finished with you yet. That wasn’t your last orgasm.”

You mewl and it seems that it’s all that you’re capable of uttering, the clitoral orgasm stealing all of your vocabulary.

Or at least he thought so.

“But I want you to spank me,” you say, your voice a satiny softness. “I want it so bad that I’ll do anything for it.”

Jungkook doesn’t know what’s more stimulating—whether the beauty of your strength or the sinfulness of your craving. The flames in him reach higher highs, burning his skin in a way that unfussily forces him to give you what you want; give in to you, surely and wholly.

“Is that so?”

You nod, leaning over and closing your mouth over the side of his neck, sucking the skin, making his eyes roll back. And when you begin to focus on his ear, your fingers sinking in his hair, he truly just might submit to that specific craving of yours, even though he wanted to save it for the cabin.

He might just give you a taste of it now.

It looks like you’re ready for it, but if he finds that your healing is incomplete, he’ll take care of you, undo the wrongness, distract your thoughts and fold your emotions into a cocoon of his love.

Pulling you away from him, he lifts you off the island and bends you over it. You giggle in triumph and the dulcet sound falters once he brushes your hair back and, pressing his length against your bare bum, he reciprocates the same treatment you gave to him. He doesn’t destroy your neck more than he already has—he barely has any space left to scatter it with hickeys and he doesn’t wish to cause you discomfort. No, he mouths your ear and kisses the very unmarked skin beneath it, nibbling it ever so gently.

It’s only when you circle your hips against him that he rips that gentleness away and bites, making you groan out.

“So that’s what my sweetheart wants,” he breathes, hands drifting to the crooks of those hips, right where your thighs begin, cooling the flames he spat onto that sensitive spot of yours. “Pain.”

The collision of his palm against your cheek is what steals your breath and you whimper in elation.

“Oh, fuck yes.”

He does it again, a bit harder this time, just to hear those delectable words, just to make sure you’re comfortable, rubbing your skin to soothe the sting. And when you pinch your nipples and moan, he gets on his fucking knees for you. Such a good girl; a strong angel.

At your ever persisting service. Eternal.

Spreading you apart, he catches your dripping slick with his tongue and pushes it back inside, thumbing your other tiny hole—pulling away momentarily to spit on it, smearing the lubrication there before circling it. Jungkook hears the soft thud of your head slumping against the kitchen island and you take it, take his abuse so well that he rewards you by flicking the tip of his tongue over your clit. Over and over until there’s another thing he hears.

He hears your phone ring.

His stomach drops. He knows full well who’s calling. And you prove his deduction right.

“It’s Yoongi,” you sigh, a bit of vexation evident in your voice, and Jungkook buries his face in your pussy, humming into her, purposefully. “Vi-video calling me yet ah-a-again. Oh, fuck.”

Pleased, he laughs. “Let it ring.” Doesn’t give two shits that he’s calling, but is a little annoyed that he keeps bothering you.

It doesn’t lessen his fire, though.

“But.” He withdraws to let you talk. Doesn’t take his eyes off of the glistening of your flesh. “If I tell him off and if he sees what you’re doing to me, he’ll stop calling me.”

His fire thickens, thrilling tendrils absorbing it. Very well. “Such a smart girl. Go for it, then.” He punctuates his sentence with a curt spank and you jump, rising onto your tippy toes as you curl your back, moans echoing. He caresses your legs all over, mouth latching over your slightly reddened cheek. Thinks it’s a perfect place for another hickey. And as he sucks the supple skin, he sinks a finger inside your heat, your walls welcoming him in.

You answer the phone with a moan. “I’m busy.”

You’ve placed your hand to the edge of the island, so Jungkook has a perfect view of what’s currently happening. You’ve hidden your squished breasts behind your forearm—like you did the first time he’d laid his eyes on you via Yoongi’s phone. How the tables have turned is so mind-boggling to him that it drives him to twirl circles on your other tiny hole, eating your ass with such verve that you can’t contain your sounds, especially not when he begins to caress your sweet little spot with his curling fingers.

Your legs begin to shake.

Yoongi calls you by your name. “What the fuck is this?”

“W-what does it look like?” you retort, grinning, looking back at Jungkook, catching his glance. He sends you rays of his love, eyes crinkling, the tip of his tongue finally penetrating inside. “I’m getting my ass eaten and you’re—” You suck a breath in, trying your hardest to remain calm and not succumb to the pleasure. Jungkook worsens it for you; he syncs his finger and his tongue, fucking you in one fast rhythm in both holes at the same time, and your stammer returns. “You-you’re disturbin’ me, oh fuck.” You pant, heavily, letting go of your phone and scratching your nails down the surface, trying to grab onto something, anything. Jungkook hums, endearingly, and catches both of wrists in his hand at the small of your back. Seeing you bound like this, bound in pleasure mainly, while on the phone with your ex-boyfriend almost makes him come in his fucking pants. “I don’t want to fucking come looking at your face. I’m not on your timeline, stop calling me.”

Oh, Jungkook wouldn’t even let you—and the reason why he intensified your pleasure was to spite your ex-boyfriend. It seems as though it worked because Yoongi remains silent, at loss for words in most probability, and you consider your job done, tugging up your arm.

“Let me hang up,” you whisper to him and Jungkook loosens his fingers for you, the sound of the call ending etching a smirk on his face.

He straightens his form and, turning you around, he pins you against the island, his smirk only widening. The love, the proudness he carries in his heart for you, the freedom that oozes out of his every pore—he uses it to kiss you, tenderly. Fights hard to stifle his grin, to mold his lips into yours, but to no avail. You mirror his expression of joy, looking up at him, both of your wrists back in his hold behind your back.

“You took your spanks so well, enjoyed them,” he murmurs his praise, his other hand clasping around your binding. “Didn’t even think once about the past. And to top it all off, you basically told your ex-boyfriend to fuck off. Moaned your lungs out. I’m in awe,” he continues, his voice dropping an octave lower, meaning every word. “I’m in awe of you. What a good girl you are. The best.”

The glint in your irises bursts and spreads all around, your eyes becoming two lighthouses that gain a new instinct to bring him home, whatever form that might spur into. You blush for him, taken aback by his praise, and your lashes flutter so prettily that he grows weak in the knees. His reactions are constant, never-changing when it comes to you and he finds so much beauty in them, in you that he feels as though it’s golden sand in his fingers and all he longs to do is finish his job like you did. You rouse the inspiration in him—you always have.

And listening to his body, he stumbles back into his former position. On his knees for you, at your ever fucking eternal service. And he makes you come with his fingers stuffed in your heat and his tongue flicking your clit until your knees give out as well and he has to take you then and there. Against the window on the other side, your pleasured body embraced, almost, by the golden aura that spills from the sunlight. And he opens it out, stretches it, with every word that trickles out of his mouth and into yours with every swift stroke. A bunch of rays of ‘You’re mine’, ‘My pretty, tight pussy’ and ‘Good girl, take it all, it’s all yours’ permeate your skin, lighting you up from beneath and when you come around his cock, your light doesn’t fade into his and leave you barren. No, it melts, a conscious, ever-flowing stream, into him and soaks him up. It’s still one singular light, but in two bodies.

And the two loads he filled you up with caused weariness to drop so heftily on you that he bathed you in the tub. Scrubbed you clean. Washed your hair. Made you smell like him. Was extra careful when touching the hickeys he left behind on your body, the other unmarked parts of you handled with similar care.

He didn’t even forget about your candle. Borrowed them your shared light and you kissed him quite sweetly for it.

Even when he dressed you in his clothes. A pair of old baggy jeans that don’t fit him anymore and the same white tank top, a clean one, fragrant with the wholeness of summer he will perpetually connect with you. You pecked him so cutely when he tapped your waist, signaling that you’re all done. He knows it was the deepest thank you that you could’ve ever expressed to him. And he hugged you, hugged you so tight that you merged into him, bunching your wet hair in his fist.

It didn’t dry up until he parked by the cabin. Having curled into winsome waves, he couldn’t stop touching them when he lead you towards the front door and, most peculiarly, it ached when he had to let go in order to unlock the door.

His clinginess to you constringes the longer he spends time in your presence and because you’ve graced him with such freedom, he doesn’t mind. Not one bit. You show no signs of being irritated by it and it causes him to think that, perhaps, when God made you, He put some mechanism in you that needs it. Just like he planted those roots of clinginess in him—for no one else but you to receive, to carry, to take care of.

It’s what he thinks about when he makes you lunch while you smoke on the balcony, having finished with the fresh drinks you made for yourself and him. Elderberry with lemon and ice, with funky, colorful straws once again left behind by the past tenants, ready on the dining table. This time you will actually sit down to eat and Jungkook won’t get kissed on the face by the strong knuckles of his once-close friend.

An emotion stirs within him as he flips the meat on the small indoor grill. Tears prick in his waterline because despite the fact he enjoyed spiting him, he still wonders how he’s handling this. Mourns the loss. Probably will for some time. There’s a certain freshness to it that won’t let go of him.

Those liquid feelings almost dissipate when you wrap your arms around him from behind and kiss his spine. He’s not matching you that much—is wearing the only clean laundry he had. A white oversized tee, a zipper hoodie of the same color with jeans. But he feels the love you press onto his back as if your lips touch his bare skin, singing the two layers through and through.

Jungkook reckons you’re saving him as you’re lingering there with your face buried between his shoulder blades. Saving him from spilling.

“I can’t wait to visit the pond once we’re finished with our food,” you murmur and Jungkook hums in response, placing the rest of the meat onto a plate.

“It’s done, we can eat now,” he croaks out, his voice touched by the residue of his emotions and you rub his belly with your hands. He smiles, fondly, at the gesture. You just keep on saving him.

“Do you think the water is cold?”

Considering the rain that would not leave for days, the water is anything but suitable for swimming. And when he turns around, he meets your mischief, playfully toying with your features. A curled smirk, lifted brows, light flickering in your eyes, reflected in your lashes. He might let you dip your toe in. Just one.

Only because you depict such distinct beauty and he can’t resist it. Can’t resist you, even if he tried his hardest.

“Too cold,” he says, however. Just as playfully. “Freezing.”

Helping him with the plates, you sit down to eat and before you dig in, you thank him once again in the form of a peck. Oh, he might spill, ultimately. In a much different way. Melt into liquid love for you—a putty at your disposal. He’s never come across someone as sweet as you.

“My sweetheart, enjoy your food.”

A sliver of comfortable silence hangs in the air as you finish your food and once he downs the drink you made for him, a different type of hunger itches in his throat.

A hunger for a cigarette.

He watches you as you take his plate and bring it into the kitchen, never forgetting to at least graze one part of your body as you depart away from him, his clinginess a full blown, ceaseless stream and when you come back to him and take his hand, he remains seated. Looks up at you. Is probably giving you a nasty set of puppy eyes, he can’t tell. Doesn’t really care. Interlocks his fingers with yours and brings your knee in between his. Just because.

“You know what I want right now?” he says, stroking the back of your thigh, and you smile down at him all excitedly. “A cigarette.”

You squeal and he didn’t expect such sound to come out of you, such display of joy at such mindless thing. You quiver, taking his other hand and pulling him to his feet. Grab your pack and lighter and drag him out to the balcony.

And with a cigarette of your own hanging from your lips, you sink the butt of the spare one between his, your lighter ready in your hand, flicking it to life. Then, a sudden gust of wind blows your hair in front of your face in a grand, sublime way, the clouds shrouding the sunlight, a layer of grayness dispersing across the atmosphere. Jungkook is mesmerized, completely, strands of your hair tickling your cheeks as you focus on lighting his cigarette, such serious expression coating you.

He almost forgets to suck on the cigarette when you cup the lighter, protecting the flame from the breath of the autumn slinking in. How can someone be so beautiful, so caring? He could’ve lighted up his hunger himself, but no—you wanted to do it.

And because of that, he steals your cigarette and grabs your cheek in one hand, careful not to break it. Taking a delightful drag, he opens your mouth and puffs it inside. Watches you swallow it down, your eyes narrowed in a foreign pleasure, and to reward you, he kisses you deeply. But at the taste of his hunger on your tongue, the kiss grows tempestuous. He devours your mouth, makes it puffy all over again, and something else grows hard in tandem.

Something in his pants.

And the way you kiss him back—he has to physically pull himself away from you in order not to take you right here, in order not to bend you over this railing and bury himself so deeply inside you that all the animals in the forest scurry away at the sound of your squeaks. Much, much different ones.

His body tingles, looking at you panting, longs to kiss you again—bring that notion into reality. It’s not merely you who’s become aroused because one swift glance over your body clad in his clothes reveals that you have, too. Your stiffened nipples protrude through his tank top and he has to hold onto that railing and take a deep drag of his cigarette in order to stick to his composure like his life depends on it.

Perhaps, it truly does.

“You’re so fucking irresistible,” he comments, mirroring your former actions—placing the cigarette between your lips that willingly open for him, lighting it up. “It’s crazy. I can’t spend one minute in your presence without wanting to fuck you brainless. What are you doing to me, huh?”

You blush, but he didn’t mean it as a compliment. Thinks he should change his ways and call you beautiful more often, so you learn what a true compliment is, despite the fact how hard he finds it. His lungs constrict, choking the life out of him that you gave him—an unfond memory clouding his sight.

A blond set of hair swishing past. A roll of eyes as he threw that compliment in her way. The dismissal that still lives in him.

“You sure it’s me?” you retort, angling your head to the side, two fingers widening slightly as you suck on your cigarette. You tossed the memory away and cuddled his headspace. “Maybe you have a problem.”

Oh, he remembers this feistiness of yours. Missed it, dearly. Makes his cock needy. Even more prominently so now—now that you clothed him in healing.

“True, one taste of you and I’ve become a nymphomaniac,” he says with a mighty, peculiar easiness. Clicks his tongue. “I guess I should go to therapy.”

Your blush deepens and you hide your laughter behind your busy palm. Jungkook shakes his head, not believing something like that could flush your face like this with such rosy, radiant color. He pulls you towards himself, squeezes your bum. Takes a drag, loving the burn in his throat.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, fondling the sweet color of your cheek with his thumb. The smoke from his cigarette curls around your wavy hair. “Do you even know how beautiful you are?”

It’s you who shakes your head and you place your palm flat on his chest. A gasp leaves your mouth when he spanks you for your disagreement. Then, your mouth ends tip.

Jungkook laughs, softly. “Run. And if I catch you, I spank you again. On your bare bum this time.”

He pushes you and you squeal, turning on your heel and heading for the stairs down that lead to the pond. He could run after you to make you happy—it doesn’t matter he’s wearing his home slides. He’s danced with them, even barefooted, so this is no big deal for him. But he wants to give you the thrill of the chase, so, flicking his cigarette into the ashtray, right next to yours, he slides his hands into his front pockets and waits until you’re halfway there at the pond. Then, then, he slowly makes his way down.

You’ve stopped, however. Half turned, you watch him as he chases you down Michael Myers style. And when he’s at arms-length distance away from you, you begin to run away and this time your feet acknowledge themselves with the wood of the dock that floats above the surface of the still water. There’s nowhere for you to go and he fears you’ll jump into the water. Or, maybe you just want to get spanked that badly.

He’s about to find out.

Gray shadows envelop you, choking out your squeals again when you see Jungkook running after you and you edge dangerously close to the end, bum leaning against the ladder going down.

He lifts his palm, signaling you to stop right there.

And you surprise him. You kick your feet into momentum and as you run and collide into him, you throw him into the water.

The iciness of the water stings and his breath lodges in his throat, submerged. Paralyzation takes a hold of him, but not enough for his body to emerge to the surface. He rubs his eyes as he inhales deeply, shaking off the water from his hair like a dog, his eyesight slowly unblurring and he sees you laughing. The trees bend at the sound, sighing along and the wind, once again, stills.

You even have the nature wrapped around your finger, not just him. And he can’t be mad at you, not when your girlish giggles spark up a joy in his heaving chest, ridding him of the coldness he feels.

But that doesn’t mean he won’t punish you for it.

You asked for it.

He swims to the dock and pulls himself up. The ease he did it with, his wet clothes that cling to his body and accentuate his muscles, it causes your dulcet laughter to falter, little by little and you back away from him.

That aches a tiny bit. He relaxes his face, in case that’s what drove you to do that and he unzips his hoodie, throwing it at your feet. His T-shirt comes next and you swallow, dryly, your eyes drifting along his pecs and abdominal muscles.

You hiss at the cold sensation of his knuckles against the fine sliver of skin of your stomach, the dip between the hem of his tank and his jeans as he unbuttons them and harshly tugs them down. You let him, placing your hands on his shoulders once he kneels and lifts both of your feet, folding the denim and flinging it onto the pile of his sopping hoodie. Your socks and his boxers follow along, leaving behind only his tank top.

Bunching it in his fist, he tightens his mouth in a narrow line and pulls you in. More to cover you from the cold than to soak you and he raises his palm until it levels with your shoulder blade before he spanks you. The slapping noise vibrates through the canopy of the trees and he likes to think the weeping willow in his peripheral vision trembled at the reverberations.

“That’s for me catching you.”

Another spank. On the other cheek. Just as hard.

“That’s for the way you pushed me into the water.” You don’t make a sound, only tiny little breaths spill out of your mouth as your big eyes ogle his dripping face. Taking it so well that his cock, achefully, hardens even more. “All this fucking forest all around and you decided to get on here, on this dock. Push me in.” A spank. “In the freezing.” Another one. “Fucking water.” Another.

You moan, swaying on your feet and he straightens you, grabs your wrist and wraps it around the nape of his neck.

“And this.” Jungkook licks his fingers, sneaks them between your bodies and finds your clit, rubbing it rapidly. “This is for the way you enjoy it. Enjoy being spanked. Being punished. Enjoy being a bad little sweetheart.”

You moan, a wrinkle between your brows, and your legs begin to quiver, your orgasm fast approaching. And the fire in him, created by your playfulness and his own words, he becomes it. Like you’re the personification of light, he’s the flames that keep it warm. An oxymoron most profound, most perfect, unseen by the world.

He rips your orgasm away. Spanks you. Kneads your ass. You whine so terribly that it beckons his pity. Enough for him to creep his thigh in between yours, grasp your hips and make you ride it.

“You wanted me wet, so get off on it,” he orders, unlatching his hands, taking off the tank top and fisting your hair, trusting you to hump him well enough on your own. “I know you like it cold, so grind that pussy on my thigh. And don’t stop until you come.”

It’s fast, the way you move your hips and bring yourself to the absorption of your climax. You look at him the whole way through and Jungkook nods with his bottom lip between his teeth, encouraging you to ride out the wave.

“Good girl, coming so fast. Get on your knees.”

He takes off his even more drenched pants. You wait for him with an open mouth and he senses the welcoming embrace of death.

When he plunges his length into that salivating hole, it’s his fire that he feeds you. Despite the coldness, pearls of sweat adorn your forehead and Jungkook grips your hair and fucks your mouth, not letting you be in control, uttering his guttural moans lowly.

“That’s what you get, my love.”

You swallow around him in response and his life flashes before his eyes. Pictures of you, pictures of this cabin dressed in all of the seasons and he halts his thrusts. Pushes your head, instead. Back and forth until he can’t fucking take it anymore.

Your spit trickles down onto the wood. Tears line your vision. Hard, shiny cock in your face. He tells you what he thinks of the sight.

“So beautiful. Look at how hard and wet you made it. You deserved every inch down in that pretty throat of yours.”

It’s a start. Still has a demon on his own to conquer, one that sits around somewhere deep in his chest, where a string of his past relationship makes dents in his lungs. One that he doesn’t want to admit he still has. One that he’s learned to forget about.

But he is changing his ways. For you.

You moan and scratch your nails down his thighs, the fire forming into an animal in you. A feral, little thing that knows what it needs. And he’s going to give it to you, mind already working on the forgetting.

“I love your cock. It’s all mine.” You mouth it, glide your puffy lips upon its length and despite the pleasure he gets from it, he pushes you away.

Straddles your hips. Turns you onto your tummy. Knows the personal cock time was too brief for you, but he can’t risk having his orgasm like this.

“Yes, my love, all yours. And I’m gonna fuck that brain out of your head with it.”

You mewl. “Yes, please.”

In contrary to your words, you try to crawl away when he sinks himself inside, your nails making pretty music on the wood. He brings you right back to him. Presses you down flat with his hand on your back. All while still inside of you. You sputter out your moans and, licking his thumb, he circles your other hole, making them grow in volume.

“No, sweetheart. Don’t run from it. You can take it. Believe in yourself the way I believe in you.”

The strokes he gives you are hard, engraving your rose tattoos made of hickeys onto the dock and he realizes that’s exactly what he wants. He desires to have everything he owns smell like you, look like you and carry remnants, memories and keepsakes of you for generations to come. And so he fucks you not only harder, but faster.

Thinks your back is awfully bare and missing the rest of the marks.

Jungkook bites onto the skin above your shoulder blade and you catch him off guard.

“Jungkook, I’m gonna come like this.”

He hums, fondly. How quickly your walls have gotten used to accommodating him. “Not yet, my love.”

Swiveling you, he hooks your knees onto his shoulders, sinking back into you this way—sinking back home.

And it begins to rain.

Jungkook hears the touch of the droplets upon the surface of the pond first before the same ones pelt down his back. And the briskness that affects him, the conjunction of an autumn kissed by the last of summer—it drives him to crush his lips onto yours with such vigor that he hopes the autumn, at the sight of it, will be here to stay, in all its wholeness. No more triggers of the past seasons. Newness, only. Singularity.

He doesn’t carry you away from the rain. No, he hides you with his own body. Takes every hit from the ruthless downpour for every lash across your heart, for every scar etched for all eternity on its flesh. Hands cradling your head, the broadness of his back a cover for the top half of your body and you keep him there with your hands gripping his hair, holding on for dear life. It stimulates him enough to fuck you just as hard, imprinting the lines of the wood onto your back.

Not so bare anymore.

You could never be an empty canvas. Not with him.

Not when you care for him in the midst of the pleasure.

“Jungkook, ah, you’re go-gonna catch a cold.”

He kisses you for it, terribly touched. “But it feels so good.” A languid stroke, the squelching of your pussy; he rolls his eyes back, sucking in a breath. “Come for me and I’ll get you inside.”

He picks up the pace, seizing your pleasure. But then you start moving your hips up and down and he feels you fill up every dent in his heart with each movement, each moan, each squeeze of your walls. And when you make yourself come on his cock, he considers himself strong enough to tell you all about it later.

Carrying you inside while hiding your head from the rain in the crook of his neck, he takes you up to his room and sets you down like the princess you are underneath the ivory canopy above his bed. Senses your irises digging little pursed pecks into his back as he rummages in his dresser, fishing out a pink bottle of lube and a dildo. Smaller than his length, but almost the same as his girth. Skin-like. With balls attached.

He’s smirking as he swivels, joy evident on his face. He’s eager to watch you ride it and your two lighthouses for eyes divulge to him just as how excited you are yourself.

You spread your feet for him once he’s an inch away from you, smiling from ear to ear. “Fuck me with it,” you purr, wrapping your legs around his torso.

Even the most solemn man in the world wouldn’t be able to not grin at this moment. Too bad he wouldn’t let him near you. His heart pounds, aches to say no to you, but he simply wants to watch you ride it.

“No, sweetheart. I want to watch.”

You frown. “But you haven’t cummed yet.”

He caresses your small pout and you kiss his thumb. His smile widens. “That’s okay.” He might be throbbing, but watching you bounce on a silicone dick will bring him a great deal of pleasure, nonetheless.

“Then, touch yourself for me.”

He hums, his heart lodged in his throat. The turning of tables must be in the script to this movie that he considers his life shared with you. And he likes it more than he’s able to comprehend amidst his intense arousal.

“You have to ride it well, then.”

You suck on his thumb momentarily, a smirk quirking your lips. “I’ll do my best.”

“I know you will.”

Pecking you shortly, he squirts a ton of lube on the dildo and all around your princess parts, rubbing your clit to tease you. The gasp you let out causes him to laugh softly in endearment and then…

Then, he leaves you to it.

Sitting back in his rocking chair, he fists his cock, the leftover lube making a squeaky sound on his skin. You get on your knees, line yourself up and Jungkook tugs down his foreskin for you, allowing you to see the drops of his male essence oozing out. It turns you on to the point that you moan and bite your lip, sinking down on the toy and he’s breathless.

“Fuck, it’s not as big as you,” you whine, sitting down on it, fully, maintaining eye contact with him. His heart thuds in harsh staccatos. “I barely feel anything.”

A sly remark about your ex-boyfriend’s length is on the tip of his tongue, but he bites it back. Doesn’t want to ruin the moment. He’s not a constant presence. Not anymore. So why bring him back?

And what’s more, you’re lying. Because when you begin to bounce, tentatively, your eyes whisk back and you pinch your nipples, the squelching sound of your pretty little pussy driving him to fuck his fist just once. He knows if he keeps going, he might miss the whole experience, plagued by the shadow of his pleasure. He palms his balls instead, his cock protruding from the crook between his fingers and his thumb. Still wet from you.

“Harder,” he commands, squeezing his balls when you listen and he hisses, fights with all his strength not to flutter his eyes closed like his body is begging him to. He can’t miss this. It’s too good to miss. He bites down on his lip.

“Jerk off that cock, please,” you plead, your breasts bouncing and he bites down harder, the fire in him burning off his skin. “It doesn’t feel as good when you don’t.”

He swears and begins to move his hand, gliding up and down, pressure hard. “Are you imagining it’s me?”

“Yes, oh my God. I’m riding you and it feels so fucking good, Jungkook.”

He moans, focusing on his sensitive head. Tips his chin up. Doesn’t break the eye contact. “Good girl. You’re doing so well.”

The praise gets to you and your fingers sneak to your clit, rubbing fast little circles—and just like that he nears to the edge. Whimpering for you, he fucks his cock harder. Hot flashes surround your flushed face and you mimic his sounds.

That’s his very fucking undoing.

Getting on his feet, he paints your breasts and tummy white and you begin to shudder, his orgasm coaxing yours. You pinch your little hard nubs—and it’s almost like you’re milking him dry, spurts after spurts making new tattoos on your torso, white roses to mingle with your red and purplish ones.

And his woozy brain can’t help but to look forward to see them fade to yellow.

He kisses you so hard that he doesn’t feel you breathe and when he pulls away, he collects his cum and feeds it to you. Can’t have it go to waste when he knows what he’s planning for you.

“That was so good,” he whispers, sealing such an intimate moment with another ravenous kiss.

He doesn’t let you respond—he pins you back. Ass up, face down. Squirts lube all over that deliciousness and when he glances over at the ruined dildo, he whistles. Pearls after pearls of your girlish essence trickle down the length and he shows it to you. Hard all over again.

“That’s a good fucking girl,” he praises and your eyes widen in that familiar way he likes, mouth parting, blush deepening. “Stick out your tongue.” You listen, so fucking well, and he plunges the silicone tip inside your mouth, circling it around that willing muscle. “That’s it, lick it up, sweetheart.”

You look up at him as you do it, making smacking sounds, so terribly fucked out. Jungkook has to grip your hair in order to hold on to the last of his composure, and when you begin to suck on it—he can’t take it anymore.

He fucks you with it. Fucks you into the mattress. Punishing you for the things you do to him, for the fire that grows hotter and hotter in his veins. And he loves you, dearly, with the entirety of his being, that his fingers cannot physically stay away from your little sopping clit.

Neither can they when you come and gush out your arousal. Neither can they when he switches the dildo with his cock, raises you in the air and fucks you so hard, whispering little praises and sweet little nothings—“I’m getting you used to taking it from behind, my love. You’re doing so good. You’re so beautiful. So damn pretty.”—that you and he both, completely and wholly, fall apart when you come together.

He loves you dearly enough that he can’t stop falling apart even in the shower.

He tells you of the demon living in his chest.

“When we’re together, I feel you healing me. I feel you giving me chances to live on with my life, do the things I’m scared of or wary of. Like today, when you didn’t believe me when I’d told you you were beautiful. I felt that fear I had in me for years, but saying it to you made it seem like nothing. There used to be a girl I was in love with. Whenever I would tell her things like this, she’d scrunch up her nose. It wasn’t enough for her. Her pride was too big for my words. I kept giving and giving and it was never enough. But when I give to you, you take it and you live with it and I can see it on you. I can see you wear it proudly. I can even see it now. And it’s so beautiful. So healing.”

You kissed his scars. Kissed his hands. His neck. Washed him clean. Hugged him under the hot downpour of the shower. Reminded him of the way he healed you. Told him all the small details he never knew—and it only proved his words, tightened his love for you.

He knows from this moment on that you will be the mother of his children. He’s not letting you go. Not until the day he dies.

And the first shower he shared with you… Jungkook sketched it down that very night as you and him sipped on wine, listening to music. And he brimmed with the longing to bring it onto a canvas. Splatter it with colors. Purples and reds, with tiny hints of yellow that are about to appear on your body.

And he will. Hang it up in this very cabin. The eternal keepsake of the movie that his life has become.

It has been several months of living this cinematic life with you. Weekends spent at the cabin, the weekdays spent separately, save for the regular dates. Dinners, trips, sight-seeing. A slow life filled with brand new art supplies, a pile of sketchbooks adorning the walls of his bedrooms. Both at his own apartment and the cabin. And another adornment has come to live with you and him, one of life-long permanency.

He sealed your exclusive relationship with a matching tattoo.

“Sweet” lines your left rib whereas “Heart” lines his—right above the mole you’ve come to love so much. Red ink, an illusion to your red roses, the dress you’ve worn for him on several occasions. Visiting him out of the blue in the middle of the week with black lingerie underneath and a trench coat to cover you up. Mindlessly at the cabin one weekend when drinking wine, smoking together on the balcony, listening to the whispers of the willow tree. And once on the last warm day of autumn, during which he paid you back for the way you had pushed him into the water of the pond. Just like he’d done the first time, he tossed you in, joining you right after, fucking you in the dress. He had eternalized it that very night, sitting by an easel. Paintings of you, some of both you and him, hang on the walls of the cabin. In the living room, in the bedroom. Everywhere one looks, one finds the scenes of your movie—and it brings him joy unlike any other.

Yoongi… he hadn’t called you since that fateful day. You’d made the arrangements to see him after a month or so. Found out he was seeing a therapist.

Quite literally.

He’s banging his male therapist.

The information enveloped you in a dimmed glow. You were shocked, first and foremost, because you had no idea Yoongi liked men. Jungkook did, so it wasn’t a surprise to him—what was more of a groundbreaking surprise to him was the fact you didn’t know. That he never cared to tell you.

And he never pushed it aside. As a matter of fact, he told him off about it the first time he saw him after everything.

Yoongi cared very little because he considered the chapter finished. A similar light swathed him tautly, one he’d never seen on him, and Jungkook agreed. The chapter is finished. No need to get all hot again.

Yoongi forgave him. Found love. Found healing. But he didn’t maintain his relations with you. Neither did he with Jungkook.

And while it hurt for a little while, Jungkook figured that maybe it was meant to be like this all along.

He and you. A singularity.

The nonexistent gap between the word sweetheart.

No third party.

BACK to masterlist

#jungkook x oc #yoongi smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #btscreatorscorner #kpop smut #jungkook one shot #yoongi x oc #yoongi x reader #yoongi imagine

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magnolia-among-the-stars · 3 months ago

Text

the last bit of us (chapter five)

Plot: Tyler Owens hasn’t been home in a year. He’s survived all the storm chasing and motel living with his new partners as they try to save lives. But with all the damage they’ve taken from driving high beams first into monster storms, it’s time to pay the piper and bring the truck in for repairs. And the only person who can fix them is the best mechanical engineer he’s ever met. Eleanor Harding, his estranged wife.

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Estranged Wife OC (Harding Daughter), Estranged Wife! OC x Rhett Abbott

Word Count: 1.9k

Playlist Song: i can do it with a broken heart by taylor swift

prologue / one / two / three / four / five / six

After hours of angrily wiping away my tears while tossing and turning, I decide there’s no point in staying in bed. I toss the comforter from my legs and drag a flannel over my shoulders, before cracking the door open to my bedroom. I pause for a moment, hearing the silence throughout the house and remember the paperwork.

The night of our fight, I’d waited until the next morning to call Tyer out of fear that he was hurt. When he didn’t answer, I called a few of our friends but no one answered. After a few days, I’d started calling local hospitals and the sheriff’s office, even checking the local motels and bars. I gave up hope that he would come home after a month, shuffling all of our photos and knickknacks into a box. Two months without a word, I put all of his things in the attic of the barn. I waited six months before I stopped wearing my wedding rings.

It was a year before he popped up, hooting and hollering on a Youtube channel. That was the first week I reached out to a lawyer to draft up the papers, though I could never get them signed because he was never in the same location to be able to serve him. And now, the fucker was sprawled out in the living room like he’d just been out to Danny’s for a few beers and forgot his way home. I’d be damned if he was going to leave again without signing the papers.

I grab my rings from the little dish and yank open the junk drawer at the bottom of my dresser. The packet of crinkled pages sits at the top, my name already scratched along each line. I open the door again, walking down the stairs. Tyler is sprawled out on the couch, snoring away loudly. Boone’s arms are crossed over his chest as he curls into the rocking chair and Dexter’s curled up in a sleeping bag on the floor. I drop the divorce papers on the coffee table beside Tyler, rings placed atop them.

He stirs a little and I wonder if we’ll fight here and now, but he only grumbles and rolls so his face is shoved into the cushions. I shake my head and head into the kitchen, unplugging my coffee maker and sliding my boots on. The porch door squeals as I head outside and over to the barn. It’s still dark out and I wonder if I’ll ever get to sleep again.

It takes a little while to set up a light that hangs from the barn door, swinging it out wide so that I’ll be able to work on dad’s old truck. I drag an extension cord from inside, plugging in first the coffee maker and then the light. I turn on an old radio, grab my tools and get to work. I’d spent months trying to build a new engine and get the thing running but the contract had really taken my attention.

Humming as I tighten some wires, it’s peaceful and for once, it feels like I can actually breathe. It’s not until I start my second pot of coffee that the sun starts to rise and the porch door swings wild from its hinges. The noise makes me jump a little, zapping myself while trying to connect a new battery.

“Son of a bitch,” I shake my hand.

“What the hell is this?” Tyler’s voice bellows from across the yard.

“Divorce papers,” I turned to look at him over my shoulder, adjusting my position sitting inside the hood.

“You just decided to draft them up while I was asleep?”

“Why are you so mad?” I say, raising a brow and looking at him. His jaw is clenched, brows knitted tightly together. I can’t tell if it’s disgust or annoyance but either way makes no sense. “You have a girlfriend, do you not? She’s upstairs, in the guest bedroom wrapped up in the sheets my mother bought up for our second anniversary. You should be thanking me.”

Tyler opens his mouth, points a finger at me but no words come out. “Aren’t we both supposed to see a lawyer? Talk through like…percentages?”

I turn back to the engine, connecting the last of the cables. I’ve recited the list once a week, everything that I’d talked through with my parents’ lawyer. “I get the house which I’ll buy you out on, you keep the truck. We both have separate bank accounts so nothing to touch there. Don’t need alimony and I could never give you a child so you don’t need to worry about child support.”

The look on his face from the mention of us never having kids is a mix of heartbreak and anguish. “El.” Behind him, I watch our his friends clamoring down the porch steps to the safety of their RV.

“It’s simple. Easy. Harmless. Sign the papers, let me fix the truck and we can both move on with our lives. It’s pretty reasonable,” I shrug and shake my head. My phone starts to ring and I look down.

“Right, so you and Rhett Abbott can walk off into the sunset right? You can just hop on the next bull rider you know?” I jump from the bumper and pocket my phone. I wipe my hands on the rough material before chucking the rag at him, getting his white shirt dirty with grease.

“Tell me something…what on Earth gave you the right to act like you were the one abandoned in this relationship? You left me. Do you remember? Have you been rattled by too many tornadoes to remember? You left. This isn’t me springing something new on you that’s coming from left field. This is me, cleaning up the mess that you made and putting myself back together and another thing,” I scream, shoving him and the anger continues to bubble over.

There’s a rumble that interrupts my statement, a familiar truck rolling up over the hill. Rhett’s truck. “Well, ain’t that just the perfect timing?” Tyler grunts.

“Wonderful, maybe your girlfriend can meet him,” I snark, walking past him to meet Rhett as he turns off the truck. He gives me a small smile, glancing over at Tyler as he opens the truck door.

“Hi,” I greet him, leaning against the bed as he climbs out. “I thought I said I’d call you.”

Rhett looks down, licks his bottom lip. “I’m real sorry, I don’t want you to have to deal with more of Tyler’s shit with me showin’ up again. I just–uh.” He walks around me and tugs down the tailgate. I watch as he pulls something out, noticing him holding up a few plastic bags. “I uh…I know how busy yesterday got and knowing you, figured you might need some groceries.”

My breath hitches, my mouth drops open in shock. My heart melts a little at how thoughtful he is and smiles a little. “Rhett, you shouldn’t have.”

His face falls and he must think I mean that it’s not needed. So I walk forward and take one of the bags from his grasp, kissing his cheek. “I mean, you’re too kind and I know how exhausted you must be from your ride last night. And you still woke up early to get me some groceries?”

His face lights up a little and his forehead touches mine. “I just wanted to help. Want me to bring ‘em inside or is that going to cause a war?’

“Who doesn’t love a little screaming in the morning?” I nod to the porch and grab another bag from him. He grabs the remainder of the totes, following me across the lawn and into the house where I pull everything out onto the counter while he tugs the fridge door open.

Rhett whistles. “Did he clean you out or are you just not eating three meals a day?’

“Funny,” Tyler appears suddenly in the archway.

Rhett and I share a look, trying not to smile.

“So, how long have you two been dating?” Tyler asks, arms crossed over his grease stained chest.

“Will you just go away?” I ask, tucking some cans of soup up in the cabinet. My phone rang again.

“El and I aren’t dating,” Rhett says, nodding.

“I’ve gotta take this,” I say, walking out of the kitchen. “Hey Mom...everything alright?”

“Hi darling, just calling to let you know we’re on our way home, were you able to get Dad’s medication?” Mom asks, the loud rumble of the truck echoing in the background.

“I’ve got it, I’ll head over so he can get started on it,” I turn to try to listen to Tyler and Rhett’s conversation. I’m only able to get a few words out of the conversation, things like “finalized divorce” and “bold accusation”. I close my eyes and sink into the wooden bench. Footsteps make me open my eyes and look up, staring at a startled Kate.

“Honey, did you hear me?” my mom’s voice crackles through.

“Sorry, sorry mom, can you say that again? You broke up there,” I lie, looking down at my feet.

“I said, ‘did that good for nothing husband of yours sign the papers?’ Is he gone?” she asks. In the background, I can hear my dad’s voice growing louder to ask questions about Tyler’s presence.

“Jo, give me the damn phone – I may have cancer but I can still–,” his voice grows louder until it’s clear he’s wrestled the phone from mom’s grip. “Sweetheart, do you need me to come out there? I’ll get rid of him for you. Everyone’s coming into town today and tomorrow for the big BBQ, I’ll call up your uncles. Rabbit and Dusty will be there in a few hours, you just give me the word,” he says, his voice a little weak.

“No Daddy, that won’t be necessary. I’m just fixing up the man’s truck and then he’ll be gone. Plus, no offense to Uncle Dusty and Uncle Rabbit but seeing Mom is probably enough to shake his core,” I tell him. “But I’ll be over in a little while, just have to put away some groceries.”

“Alright sweetheart, if you change your mind,” he hums.

“I’ll sound the siren,” I reply.

“That’s my tempest,” he says endearingly. “Love you.”

“Love you guys. Bye.” I hang up the phone and look up at Kate, still watching me.

“Do you need something?” I ask, rising to my feet. She shakes her head and watches me turn to the kitchen. There’s still a safe distance between the two men and that’s a relief because I don’t think I have enough time to mop up the blood from the kitchen tiles.

Rhett looks up at Kate in confusion, turning to look at me in surprise. “Well, this is all fun and awkward but I have to get going so Tyler, if you can sign those while I’m gone and go do something that isn’t at my house,” I clap my hands together. “That would be great.” I turn to Rhett.

“And I would love to walk you out to your truck,” I say, tossing my hair up.

“Great,” he tucks the final item from the bags, a bag of pre-cut bagels, on the countertop. “Blueberry, from that bakery you like.”

“That sounds delicious,” Kate interrupts. I nod, glancing at Tyler.

“Mmm, yeah. You should take Kate, get some breakfast. If you remember the spot.” Considering it’s where our wedding cake came from.

Tyler blows out some air and I tug the pencil from my hair, letting it fall down around my shoulders. I toss it to him. “Lock up when you get out, please.”

A/N: Thank you so much everyone for the kind words! I disappeared for a little while because I became an english professor and was teaching in the fall but have this semester off so i'm back at it! all your comments and feedback has been incredible! please continue to send any along and click here if you want to join the taglist!

taglist:

@tw232103, @arieltwvdtohamflash, @magicalfurykoala, @janoskiansecondsofdirection, @fever-daydreamm @buckybarnes-1917 @kim-taehyung-12301995 @accordingtoawallflower-blog @axolotllover225 @tgmreader @smoothdogsgirl @paramedicnerd004 @charmyeol69-blog @tktstomydwnfall @milesdot @arieltwvdtohamflash @dream-alittlebiggerdarling

#thelastbitofusfic #twisters #twister #twisters imagine #twisters imagines #tyler owens #tyler owens imagine #tyler owens imagines #tyler owens fiction #rhett abbott #rhett abbott imagine #rhett abbott x oc #tyler owens x oc

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wh0reforcoriolanussnow · 2 years ago

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So Soon || D. Targaryen x oc (Dear Motherhood Series)

GIF by @claramaximoff DIVIDERS by @straywords

summary: Leyla is in denial that she may be blessed with another child again so soon after giving birth to her third child.

Dear Motherhood Series Masterlist

“Can’t you make it any tighter?” Leyla groans as her closest handmaiden, Alyssane, struggles to tighten her dress . “Not if you want to breathe, my Lady” She chuckles before going back to work.

The young hightower lets out a frustrated sigh. “I don’t understand-“ “Perhaps, sister, you have been blessed again” Alicent pipes in, her eyes looking up from the book she was occupied with. Leyla turned her head to her older sister’s direction. She chortled at the suggestion.

“Don’t be ridiculous, sister. I just had a baby” She said in a matter of fact tone, her hand resting on her stomach. She honestly couldn’t imagine having another kid so soon. Only being eighteen and possibly having four kids already? There was no response apart from a simple hum. Leyla looked at herself through the mirror. There could be a possibility but there was no way she was pregnant that soon.

“That bastard should be fed to Caraxes for thieving in our bedchambers!” Daemon fumes as he paces infront of the breakfast table where Leyla sat, a 10 day old Aegon in her arms as Alyssa and Baelon played with their wet nurse.

“He didn’t steal anything of value, Husband. Besides, he’s locked up now-“ “But what if you were there when he came in hm?” Her voice was cut off by his. “W-what if the children were there, especially if Aegon was there sleeping-“ “Which he wasn’t. Daemon, it’s alright. The children are alright. And you know that they are always accompanied.”

Leyla takes ahold of Daemon’s forearm as he looks down at her. “If something ever were to happen to our children and I wasn’t able to help it, I would never forgive myself.” He stares intensely at his wife. “Nothing is going to happen to them” She gives a reassuring smile before looking down at Aegon.

Daemon’s face softens as he looks down at his son in awe. “Breakfast, my Prince, my Lady” A maid curtsies as plates of food were placed in front of the couple. Leyla’s face scrunches in disgust. “Is there a problem?” Daemon questions noticing her twisted face.

She didn’t know what overcame her but the smell of the food was overwhelming her and making her sick in the stomach. “I-God I feel like I’m going to throw up” Leyla abruptly stands up passing Aegon to the wet nurse and leaving the room.

“Children,” Daemon calls out. Both Alyssa and Baelon look at their father, “Come here and eat breakfast while I check on your mother” He simply says before following his wife.

“Leyla?” Daemon knocks on their door to the their bedchambers. Silence greeted the prince before footsteps could be heard. Leyla opens the door with an awkward smile. “Are you alright?” Daemon raises an eyebrow at his wife as she nodded. “Quite. I think I just need water” She brushes past him without saying another word.

Not even a month later, everyone at court were whispering about speculations that Leyla and Daemon were expecting their fourth child. Their theirs child, Aegon, had only been born a mere twenty days ago.

When Leyla walked through the corridors of the Red Keep, whispers stopped as they glance at the young mother. She had no idea that it had spread around, and was the topic of everyone’s conversation. But she could wrap her head around why.

Maybe it was because she just had Aegon not even two weeks ago? Maybe it was simply because they were shocked that she was expecting another child only at the age of eighteen with three children under her wing. People would have never expected Daemon to be father of four children, let alone one

“I think I’m with child again, sister” Leyla holds Alicent’s hands in hers as she sniffled, tears welling in her eyes. “Oh but that is such good news Leyla-“ She stops mid sentence as she notices Leyla’s unhappy face.

“Why aren’t you happy then? You love your children plus-“ “Of course I love my children Alicent!” She snaps, “I love them, truly, with all my heart but I just dread-“ Leyla takes a deep breath calming herself down slightly and takes a seat beside Alicent.

“It’s not the children that I hate, God of course not” She lightly chuckles at herself, “It’s the pregnancies I have to endure for nine unbearable months” Leyla sits there fidgeting with her fingers. Alicent opens her mouth but nothing comes out.

She had no idea her sister felt that way. “Can you imagine swelling up and everyone whispering behind your back? Whispers about how I’m carrying Daemon’s child at this age or how I’m incapable of raising children.” Tears slowly fall down Leyla’s cheeks before Alicent embraces her younger sister in a much needed hug.

“I am so sorry. I never knew you felt that way Leyla” Alicent quietly spoke as she rubbed her sisters’ back in comfort. The younger Hightower pulls back, wipes her tears, and gives a small smile. “Father would be happy wouldn’t he?” She laughs to herself as Alicent frowns.

“Leyla you shouldn’t care about what Father thinks,” Leyla knew that. She really shouldn’t. After all, he was the main root of this all. Forcing her to marriage the Prince only at fifteen and ever pressuring her to bear his children so quickly. But deep down she did want Otto’s approval. “I know.”

tike-skip to the end of Second Choice ~

“Daemon?” Leyla starts, “Hmm?” Daemon hums, busy with peppering your hand with kisses. “I’m pregnant.” He pauses his actions as he stares at his wife in shock. “Say something, please.” Leyla grows anxious.

Next thing she knew, Daemon made his way to her and kissed her. “That is wonderful news, sweet girl. Our family only keeps growing” He says softly as he looks at their children. Leyla says nothing but just smiles.

“Are you not happy?” The Prince looks down at her as he notices her silence. She pulls him down to sit beside her. “Of course I’m happy Daemon-“ “But?” He interrupts.

Tears started forming in her eyes once again. “It is just so soon, Daemon.” She shakes her head, Daemon stays silent and listens. “I’m blessed to be carrying your child, truly, but I just had Aegon, not even a month ago. This is all happening so fast, I’m eighteen and now I’ll be mother to four?” She furrows her eyebrows, her gaze on the fireplace infront of her.

“Being pregnant is nothing but draining, Husband.” Leyla finally looks at Daemon. He doesn’t utter a word but instead, he pulls Leyla in for a hug. “iksā sīr kostōba se nēdenka, nyke gīmigon kostā gaomagon bisa. iksan kesīr tolvie dekuragon hen ñuhoso” He whispers in his mothers’ tongue. Something Leyla had mastered to understand. (you are so strong and brave, i know you can do this. i am here every step of the way)

“I’m so grateful to have you with me as my Husband, and father to our darling children” She cracks a smile. Her gaze once again drifting to her beautiful children.

and the first one shot to the dear motherhood series is done!! let me know if you enjoyed it, i can’t wait to write more of these :) lmk if u wanna be in the taglist for this series

taglist

@bellstwd

#daemon targaryen #house of the dragon #house targaryen #fanfiction #matt smith #daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen fanfic #dearmotherhood #leyla hightower #dearmotherhoodseries #targaryenwhore #otto hightower #alicent hightower #a song of ice and fire #dad!daemon targaryen

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7ouls · 6 months ago

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im REAAAAALLY sorry for the likje longest wait ever but in the meanwhile i've wiorked on my oc too so i'll prob post abt it soon. sorry if this is short or bad but it took me a long time to get motivation to write this 😓

(this isnt proofread so if u see any mistakes dont mind them i’ll correct them tomorrow cause im too tired)

fem! reader btw

Daisuke never liked to rely too much on other people, he was always told how annoying he can be so that would make him even more of a weight than he already is.

Although he can’t complain when his girlfriend is the one who gets to take care of him. After what happened at the Tulpar you could see big changes in his attitude, he tried to smile at you but you can see that it’s not the same genuine lovely smile he used to give you in the past, when he was still on earth with you.

You were his girlfriend before he got the news from his parents about the internship and no matter how much you tried to convince him to not leave he still did, promising you that he’d come back for you. He wasn’t wrong, but this isn’t what you were expecting.

He had many scars around his body, barely able to move. He was put in a wheelchair for a few months, just until the scars have healed and he could get back in feet.

Daisuke’s parents found him a therapist, ignoring the boy’s wishes not to. Because after all he had you, you were the only one who he opened up with about what happened to all of them, about how guilty he felt for them. You were the one holding him in your arms after he cried on your shoulder for hours, you were the one changing his dirty bandages but most of all you were the one that loved him.

At nights like this you liked to wait until Daisuke was sleeping to leave him on your shared bed and go out your balcony to watch the sky filled with the city’s light, and when days were harder you took the hidden pack of cigarettes and light one up.

As you were watching the sky above your head you felt moving inside the house but didn’t think much of it, as it could be your pet just wandering around.

Your presumption turned out to be wrong as you heard your name be yelled from your bedroom, you quickly get inside to check on the voice and found your boyfriend on the floor. You run to him and slowly get him back on your bed. He pouts seeing your worried face checking for any damage.

“Are you okay? How did you get down there, most importantly why were you th-“ He stops you before you can bombard him with even more questions.

“I’m sorry Y/n, i just needed to drink something and when i saw that you weren’t here i tried to take it myself but i couldn’t...” You could see the disappointment in his eyes, you thought he might be feeling like a weight on your shoulders so you tried your best to comfort him.

“Daisuke look at me. You don’t have to apologise, it’s my fault. I should’ve been there for you but i wasn’t and i’m sorry about that. You shouldn’t force yourself to move too much, the doctors said that your body is still too fragile to sudden movements.” The boy looked at you, the mention of doctors saddened him.

“I’m so tired of these doctors, i sometimes wish you could be the one treating me instead. And the therapist girl always keeps trying to make me spill stuff, is it wrong that i don’t want to talk about it? She keeps asking about you a lot too, she might be thinking that you know more than her.”

“She wouldn’t be wrong, if it makes you feel any better i could try speaking with her.” He tiredly nodded at you and you both get back in bed, drifting off into sleep while holding him.

“Goodnight Y/n, i love you.”

IDK HOW I FEEL ABOUT THIS. i weote it in 2 hours so maybe that why its so bad and yea im so tired idek what im saying

#mouthwashing #mouthwashing x reader #fanfiction #daisuke mouthwashing

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zunckerz · 4 months ago

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ending off the year with my new AHiT OC Cecilia!…who I mostly made to ship with Thor and because I wanted to draw a mermaid/siren LOL MB

+misc AHiT dump (ft what I think Steve would look like!!!)

thank you so much to anyone seeing this for standing by me all year and leaving sweet comments and reblogs, you genuinely have no idea how much those make my day and make me want to continue art. since it’s the end of the year I’d like to get more vulnerable and be frank when I say I’ve always found it to be horrifying whenever I post here, or just anywhere really. I’ve always been terrified at the idea of embarrassing myself or posting something stupid people would hate or find annoying. for a majority of my life I’ve been surrounded by family and friends who don’t like my interests or find them to be childish or weird, thankfully I’ve cut off those friends and my new ones I’ve made at university have been so sweet and kind towards me and my likes, but of course it’s always going to be difficult to work out issues with your family.

I started to post in what would be my sophomore year of highschool, which was the most difficult for me to get through as I had experienced what I now know was OCD induced intrusive thoughts along with severe paranoia, but thankfully I am medicated now ^^ my friends at the time certainly hadn’t helped and would often mock or jeer at my love for AHiT and just me as someone who’s socially awkward and very apologetic (I will say sorry 10 times after something you can’t stop me!!) so I took to here to post my AHiT related ideas or art!

Which was possibly the best decision ever, so many of you who are still here were so sweet and kind and honestly got me through a lot of my tough years, and I can’t share my gratitude enough for everyone who’s even just took a look at my blog or shared my art or even made it their icon or wallpaper. so from the bottom of my heart, thank you.

it’s been a long journey since then figuring out how my OCD has been with me my entire life and I just didn’t know until now, and also just transitioning more into adulthood. but I know as long as I have this silly hat game, you guys, my friends and my brother’s support, I’ll be ok ❤️

#unun art #bit of a long post I am so sorry!!#a hat in time #ahit #artists on tumblr #illustration #hat kid #shapeshifter ahit #ahit shapeshifter #backer b #backer b ahit #ahit backer b #thor ahit #ahit thor #ahit oc #oc x canon #steve ahit #the guy from work fanart JFKSISOD #latino artist

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dixonsdarkelf · 4 months ago

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2024 Wrapped

GIF by me, dividers by @anitalenia

I wouldn’t call this a yearly wrap-up as I’ve only been posting since October 1st, but here we are.

Wow, 2024’s been a hell of a year professionally, personally, and on here. I started writing again for the first time since the pre-pandemic days, had my 5-year anniversary with my partner, found myself in this lovely little corner of the fandom & made some new friends along the way. After only writing OC content my whole life, I finally took the leap and started doing x Reader content, and that’s been fun so far. It’s been a wild few months.

No one asked for this part, but I figured I'd give a little bit of an origin story as to how the hell I even ended up here.

I hatched an idea one day, that idea being the existence of my sweet little angel Vec (Lydia Vector). She just popped into my brain one day after having not thought about TWD in ages. Then my brain said “she’s gonna be Daryl’s love interest.” And after not having done any writing in years (I started creative writing when I was 14), I said “well…guess I’m doing this now.” So I began posting on AO3 and Wattpad and eventually made my way over here. And it was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.

If you found me on here from reading my content on another platform, thank you, and I'm happy to have you here.

When I first started posting on here, I felt like a teeny, tiny drop in a sea full of big names (probably because I was) (I still feel that), and that was intimidating enough to almost make me stop altogether. But I've met some of the best people through this app, and I feel like I finally found a little corner of the internet where I belong.

Shout-outs to the homies:

@francisofthespook you were one of my first followers, and I still remember when I came on one day and saw that you had binged a bunch of my content & how happy that made me. Thank you for suggesting creative content for me to do (like create playlists & the whole NSFW alphabet thing we did). I adore you 💙

@holdmytesseract Maddie, you are such a sunny, bright presence on this app, and I’m beyond honored that I get to call you one of my mutuals. You leave some of the sweetest comments I've ever received, and I’m excited to (hopefully) become friends 🧡

@gothic-pumpkin I can’t express how happy I am that I reached out to you. When I saw we had the same taste in music and men (Norm characters lmao), I knew we would be friends. Our conversations always make my day 🤎

@weirdoneattheparty you are such a light & so kind, friendly, and welcoming to everyone in this space. You're also such icon for those audios you manage to find and make all crispy and clear, I love you for that (and more ofc) 💛

@negansbestie you are truly one of the sweetest and most friendly people I’ve met on this app. You always have the nicest things to say, and seeing you in my activity tab always makes me smile 🤍

And last, but certainly not least, @dixons-sunshine. God, where do I even begin with Krys? She is my favorite writer on this app & was the first person I really admired on here. I remember thinking "damn, if she even looked at something of mine, just once I would feel like the coolest person ever." And then we became mutuals and I thought "it'd be so cool to be friends with her, she seems awesome." Then I made a simple comment, talking about how my OC (Vec) and hers (Georgie) would definitely be besties in an alternate universe, thinking nothing would come of it. And that one comment spiraled into an entire AU and a beautiful friendship. Krys is one of the most down-to-earth, kind, supportive, funny people I've had the pleasure of knowing. It's crazy to me that I can just text you whenever, whether it AU planning or just random life shit. And thank you for showing me how to make cool shit to make my blog look sick and make cool things for our AU. I love you sm 💜

I'm also honored to be getting to know @angelwings-crossbowstrings, @lazyneonrabbitt, @deansapplepie, @dixondystopia, @enlightndone & @shadowcitrine. You're all lovely, and thank you for being such welcoming presences in this little corner of the internet 💚

And of course, our Royal Council, aka our ‘Quarters of the Undead’ readers/taglist people: @kat-herine00 @gothic-pumpkin @weirdoneattheparty @negansbestie @ffsjustletmesleep @holdmytesseract This AU is still in its infancy, and we have so much planned. Thank you for joining us on this journey so early on ❤️

Works I'm most proud of:

Finding Myself, Finding You (the fic that started it all)

Lydia Rae Vector, OC profile (naturally, I'm most proud of my little unhinged baby angel)

Flattery: Daryl Dixon & Fem!Reader (first attempt at x Reader content)

Something Good (first installment in the QOTU AU)

Thank you all for some of the best months of this year. I love you all, and I'm excited to see what happens in 2025 🖤

#the dark elf yaps #thank you all so much #I love each and every one of you #come here so I can kiss your forehead #daryl dixon #scud frohmeyer

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gor3sigil · 7 months ago

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What being trans means to me

I love being trans. I love transitioning. The thing is, most of the time, I read about other trans people experiences. And I just can’t relate.

I have plenty of tattoos and piercings, and if I have to be 100% honest with y’all, I see transitioning like a bodmod. To me, getting top surgery was one, as I wanted to at least get my nipples removed before I even knew top surgery was an option.

I see HRT as much as a bodmod. A few years back, I wasn’t so sure I even wanted HRT, but after thinking it through and doing a lot of research, I decided to do it. And I never looked back. I’m close to 2 years on T, which isn’t a lot, and I don’t even know if I plan to stay on T for very long, maybe I’ll stop at some point. Who knows.

It goes hand in hand with the everlasting identity crisis I’ve been having since I was born, basically. I was a different person before, and she was so tired, so she left the body to some dude, and he got tired, and they fused, and it was me, and I’m in a trans body, I’m trans, I take T like I paint my nails, I take T like a cigarette, I take T like a hot bath. It’s comforting, it makes me feel good, it makes me feel at home in this body.

I got surgery because I wanted my silhouette to be mine. I changed my name because since I was little, and that’s the only point for which I can say confidently I knew since I was a kid, I never understood why we couldn’t name ourselves. To me, a name was so intimate, so personal, that I couldn’t understand why it had to be someone else’s choice. So I took a new one and changed it.

And now I look at myself in the miror and I’m Cyan, and I got a flat chest, and I have a deep voice, and I’ll do my T shot on friday just like I do every 14 days since almost 2 years, with the same pleasure, with the same smile on my face, the same rush I ever have when I’m excited for my shot.

Close to the feeling I get when I get a new piercing, when I up the size of my lobes, when I feel the first tingles of the needles that tattoo me.

I didn’t “always knew” I was trans. I remember being a kid with a shit ton of OCs, and names for myself that I couldn’t choose, and whose dream was to live a thousand lives before I died. I don’t know who I will be in 3 years. Or in 6 months.

It says on a letter that I suffer from gender dysphoria, and by all means it was true before top surgery. Not so much now. I still am insecure about my body a lot of times because there’s some things missing to my chara design and I am fatter IRL lmao, but with this body I cum, I eat good food, I get drunk, I smoke, I feel hot and fresh water, I swim, I sing, I write this. Even when it’s half broken and it’s raining and my joints ache and I feel like I’m already old, I love this body. I’m not the type of people who will be like “your body is a temple, you HAVE to exercise and eat only fresh veggies” because if I have to be here let me at least have fun. I take care of myself though, maybe not as much as I should, but the best I can.

If I hadn’t overcome everything I did in my life, maybe I wouldn’t have transitioned. Or maybe I would. I don’t care. I don’t need a reason, and neither do you.

This is what I mean when I say that everyone should do whatever the fuck they want because, I wasn’t born trans, or at least I don’t think so. But does it make my transition less valid ? No. I’m better in my skin that ever, even when the low self esteem hits, and I know I would feel way less good if I hadn’t transition. That’s all that matters.

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quibbs126 · 10 months ago

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So I was doing a bit more sketching of stylized Cookies, though to be honest, the only ones from today and not my original run are Werewolf and Smoked Cheese

I’m having trouble coming up with eyes right now, as well as just figuring out who I want to draw. Also heads. And how much I want to take creative liberties

Okay so actually I’m kind of struggling with all of it, but I still want to do it! I just need to figure out how

I stopped because I didn’t like how these ones were turning out, but to be honest, those old ones are perfectly fine, aside from maybe Financier, but I think I also drew her like, super early in the morning. Or at some other time, as the comment suggests, I don’t really know

I remember a couple of the concepts, like that Pomegranate doesn’t have a mouth. She does still speak and such, she just doesn’t have a visible mouth. Then with Knight, it’s supposed to be that he looks semi-intimidating with his helmet on, but without he looks pretty normal

Also I decided later that Fire Spirit’s head is just floating around, no neck

I feel like I made Werewolf look a bit silly, but I also kind of like how he looks. I might need to expand on him more

I also drew him and Dark Choco kissing just because darkwolf was on my mind. I remembered that I had previously drawn Dark Choco and Red Velvet kissing, so let’s just say polycule or something between them. Or not, since I still don’t have a definitive answer as to who I like to ship Dark Choco with

This is why I keep trying to make OCs to ship Dark Choco with, because I want him to be with someone, but I also don’t know who. But then the OCs never get fully designed because of some curse or other, or I end up putting them with a different character, so I keep trying again and again

I know ace Dark Choco can be a thing, and I mean canon wise, I can kind of see it (and also for his dad), but at the same time, I would be very happy if he got a canon love interest and just someone to love him, so I still want to ship him with someone, I just can’t decide who!

*ahem* sorry about that tangent, it’s just been on my mind. I have recently become interested in shipping him with Avocado, but I also would like them as just friends or QPR as well, so I don’t know if that’ll stick. Might make a fankid at least though

But yeah, uh, just Smoked Cheese left I guess. Originally I was going to draw Avocado but couldn’t figure out her eyes, and then it was Elder Faerie but same problem, so now it’s Smoked Cheese. But I really don’t know if he turned out well, he might need a new design too

I think I just need a list of characters I want to stylize, so I don’t just try to stylize random characters and end up making things harder for myself

Anyways yeah, I guess that’s it. Hope you like it and sorry for that shipping tangent

#cookie run #financier cookie #pomegranate cookie #dark choco cookie #red velvet cookie #white lily cookie #fire spirit cookie #knight cookie #werewolf cookie #smoked cheese cookie #my art #stylized cookies

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glamdringwlv · 8 months ago

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Unchain my heart: Part 5. Lose control.

Unchain my heart series. Logan Howlett x oc!fmale Summary: Mia Green has grown up in a lab, subjected to numerous experiments due to her status as a mutant. When she manages to escape, Charles Xavier takes her in at his mansion, giving her a new life and helping her regain her memories. However, the arrival of a new resident at the mansion threatens to destabilize everything she believed.

Warnings: Violence, foul language, a mix of various canons, X-Men movies, X-Men animated series, X-men comics.

When she returned to her room, it felt empty. Everything she had just seen, the man's words... it all echoed in the walls of her battered mind.

She was still damp, though the warmth from the fireplace and Logan had shielded her from the cold of the lake. The warmth from Logan. She hugged herself, trying to comfort the pain of not being in contact with him. It had been his presence that pulled her out of that whirlwind of anguish and pain.

Her head throbbed, and she could still feel the ghost of electrical impulses at her fingertips. With a heavy heart, she dragged herself toward the bathroom connected to her room, but when she touched the doorknob, the rustling of the sheets stopped her.

She felt selfish for not wanting to face what was coming, but she didn’t have the strength.

“Oh God, Mia, what happened to you?”

She didn’t turn around; she only glanced over her shoulder as Scott got out of bed, hurrying toward her.

“Nothing, I was sleepwalking and ended up in the lake, that’s all.”

“The lake? What…”

She squeezed her eyes shut as he grabbed her shoulders and turned her to face him. A thought flashed through her mind. I’m tired of not being able to see what’s in your eyes. She pushed it away immediately, because it wasn’t fair to him.

“I just need a hot shower, Scott. I’m exhausted.”

“Mia, you can’t show up soaking wet and expect me not to worry.”

She raised her hands to put distance between them and saw his face contort in pain. She knew she was pushing him away, and her actions were creating an abyss between them.

“I’m really fine. Logan helped me out of the water, so he’s…”

“Logan?” His voice turned cold, distant. “What the hell was he doing there with you?”

Saving me from myself while you didn’t even notice I was gone. She bit her tongue, not wanting to say it, but she couldn’t stop.

“He saw me leave the house, and when I didn’t answer his calls, he got worried.”

“Worried?” The venom in Scott’s words made her frown. She didn’t know where this was coming from. He crossed his arms, and a look of disbelief spread across his face.

Mia rubbed her forehead, trying to ease the pounding headache that was making it hard to be more understanding with her partner.

“Scott, I can’t deal with this right now. I don’t have the energy. Please. I’ll deal with your jealousy tomorrow, if that’s okay.”

She pressed her lips into a thin line when she realized what she had said. She had no control over her words and didn’t understand where this bitterness was coming from. He just wants to understand and help.

“My jealousy… Sorry I don’t understand what’s happening. This guy shows up, confronts you in your classroom, and then turns up saving you when you’re fainting and pulling you out of frozen lakes. Mia, you don’t even know him. What’s going on?”

She felt weak for a moment as the truth in his words hit her. Tears filled her eyes, and she felt foolish for wanting to cry while arguing with someone she cared about. The silence that followed her words was worse than any shout. In that emptiness, everything was falling apart. And when she finally found her voice, it was broken.

“I don’t know what’s happening to me. And it terrifies me.” She struggled to find the words to describe what she was feeling. “There’s something… inside me that isn’t right, Scott. I can’t control it, I can’t rein it in, and I’m afraid it’ll come out and destroy everything.”

Scott’s features softened, and he tried to reach out to her, but she recoiled, as if fearing her own pain was contagious. She saw something break in his eyes.

“I’ve tried to tell you, to explain that I’m not myself anymore and that Charles isn’t giving me answers, and your stance was to defend him. You didn’t even consider that I might be right.” The dam holding back her tears broke, and she began to sob, hurt. “I tried to come to you, and you downplayed it.”

Scott’s face darkened again.

“Mia, I didn’t downplay it. I just said you had no reason to distrust Charles. He’s never given you one. But you throw yourself into the arms of a stranger.”

The mutant’s frustration caused the lights in the room to flicker. Inside her, a surge of anger and rage ignited, feeding her wilder side, the one that had shattered the lake ice in a burst of power. She felt the atmosphere grow heavy and the ghost of energy in her limbs.

“You’re an idiot, Scott. You’ve always been the Professor’s lapdog. You’ve never even considered disobeying him. ‘Cyclops, do this,’ ‘Summers, handle that,’ ‘Scott, keep the broken girl occupied.’”

“What? Mia, Charles never told me… What I feel for you is real.”

She knew it was true and that she was being cruel to him, but she couldn’t stop. Once again, she had lost control that night.

“If I’ve thrown myself into someone else’s arms, it’s because they didn’t treat me like a damn broken toy. Like something to be cared for and manipulated carefully for fear of it breaking. Scott, I’m not who you thought I was.”

The lights flickered again, and he tried to approach her, but he stepped back when he felt a small shock pass through him.

“We’ll fix this, we’ll find the answer, together. Just like always, okay?”

She wanted to say yes, to stop everything and hug him. She really wanted to trust his words. But the one now trying to break free was her, seeing everything from within, unable to access her body. The beast had taken control and was trying to spread the same pain she felt. She pounded against the wall that held her back but couldn’t return.

“There’s nothing to fix, Scott. I’m not the person you fell in love with anymore.”

“Mia, you’re always going to be that person, no matter what. I don’t understand how everything changed in less than two days, how…”

He saw her eyes light up with an unnatural color, and the words died in his mouth. He somehow knew he was no longer speaking to his girlfriend, that something else had taken her place.

“It didn’t change in just two days, and you thinking that proves me right.” Small flashes of light streaked across her body, wild and uncontrolled. “I’ve always been holding back who I really am to fit into the image you’ve designed for me, but I’m tired of feeling weak.”

He couldn’t respond, unable to find the words to bring her back, to ease her pain.

“Because you think I’m weak, don’t you, Scott? Always being a half-person, always exhausted from keeping part of myself locked away, away from everything so I don’t hurt anyone. Fainting at the slightest provocation because I don’t have the energy to be who I am.”

He extended a hand toward her and wanted to pull back, though she didn’t. Despite everything, he still believed the girl he loved would never hurt him.

“Well, I’m going to show you just a tiny part of what I feel.”

He sensed Mia’s presence in his head. Raw, wild, and damaging. He clutched his head as if trying to soothe the pulsing pain it was causing, and when he finally let it in, the air tasted of fear. His breath caught when terror and confusion struck him. He felt a bubble of anguish in his chest threatening to burst and destroy everything in its path. And beneath it all, an overwhelming sense of loneliness. He fell to his knees in front of her, and tears he couldn’t hold back appeared beneath his glasses.

Mia thrashed within her own mind. She hammered against the mental barrier trapping her and with one final push, she emerged into the light. She immediately cut off the connection with Scott and knelt with him on the floor. Gently, she hugged him and let the spasms of her crying overtake her. With mechanical movements, the mutant wrapped her arms around him, still in shock from what she had felt.

“I had no idea…”

She shook her head, not wanting him to say anything. She clung to him, but didn’t find the peace she had found in other arms. She remained a whirlwind of fury and pain but swallowed it.

“I’m so sorry, Scott. I can’t… I’m not able to… Not anymore.”

He nodded, trying to understand what had happened in such a short time. A clear name appeared in his mind, the one responsible for all the unleashed chaos. Logan.

The room fell silent after Mia’s words, her apology’s echo hanging in the air like a heavy presence. They both remained motionless, her on her knees in front of him, Scott still holding her as if that physical contact could mend what was broken between them. But the electricity in the atmosphere made it impossible.

Mía was frozen, every fiber of her body trembling with a mix of exhaustion and regret. But beneath that wall of emotions, she felt something else: an abyss, dark and unknown, a growing chasm between who she was and what she was meant to be. She knew there was no turning back.

Scott was the first to move. He rose slowly, loosening his grip on her and stepping away. The weight of disappointment was unmistakable on his face, despite his attempts to mask it behind his usual firmness. He didn’t say a word as he took a step back, and she felt the coldness seep into the space where his warmth had been.

He took a deep breath, as if searching for strength to continue. Then he spoke, his voice tense and barely controlled.

“I don’t understand what’s happened to you, Mía. I don’t recognize you anymore…” His voice trembled, frustration and pain struggling to break through. “I thought we were in this together, that we could get through anything. But every day you seem further away. And now…” Silence enveloped him, unable to finish the sentence. He turned completely, facing away from her, as if he couldn’t bear to face her any longer.

She watched him in silence, knowing that any words she said would only make things worse. She had come too far to turn back, and though a part of her wanted to scream at him not to leave, another part knew this was the end. She couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine when her inner world was falling apart. She had lost him, and with him, she had lost a part of herself.

“I need time, Scott. I need to find out who I am… before it’s too late.” Her voice came out in a whisper, almost imperceptible, but the words were final. She knew there was no going back.

He nodded, though he didn’t look at her.

“Find out who you are in Logan’s arms,” he replied finally, his voice now empty, lacking the warmth it used to have. “Maybe you need to separate from me so the guilt doesn’t eat you up inside.”

Mía felt her heart sink at his words, but she said nothing more. The distance between them had grown too great, and she didn’t know how to bridge it. He stood still for a moment longer before walking toward the door. He paused at the threshold, his hand on the doorknob, and turned his head slightly, as if about to say something. But the words never came. Instead, he left the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click, leaving Mía alone in the dim light.

The silence that followed was deafening. The weight of solitude pressed down on her like a leaden slab, crushing her. She tried to hold back her tears, but the tension and sadness overwhelmed her. She sobbed, letting her body shake under the pressure of everything she had been holding back. But the tears didn’t last long; there was something deeper that tears couldn’t heal.

The flickering of the lights returned, a constant reminder of her inability to control what was happening inside her. Sparks flew through the air, small discharges racing around the room, mirroring her inner turmoil.

She slowly got up, stumbling towards the window. The view offered a white, cold, empty landscape, just like how she felt inside. She had broken something in her relationship with Scott, she knew, and now she had to face what came next. Her mind turned to Logan. The memory of his warmth, his unyielding presence at the lake, his ability to understand her without even needing words. But even that was uncertain.

The icy wind stirred the bare branches outside the mansion. A shiver ran down her spine. She was tired of feeling incomplete; she wanted to feel as strong as she had at the lake, needed more. She couldn’t stop the feelings that surged in her head and overwhelmed everything. Once again, she saw her world from a third-person perspective, as if her body didn’t belong to her. I’ll find answers, one way or another. There was that wild, raspy voice that she struggled to recognize as her own. She howled a denial, but she couldn’t stop that beast.

She wiped her tears away with a swipe and took a deep breath, feeling the cold from the window giving her strength. With determined steps, she left the room. She walked through the empty hallways of the mansion, her mind focused on one thing. She tracked the minds in the mansion until she found the one she was looking for. That uncontrolled tangle of thoughts that oozed pain. She followed it to its source.

She reached the door leading to the wing where Logan usually stayed. She hesitated for a second before raising her hand and knocking, her other side struggling to regain control. The hollow sound reverberated in the silence, and she waited.

“Come in,” Logan’s deep, gruff voice called from inside.

She entered the room, closing the door behind her without a word. Logan was there, sitting on the edge of the bed, extinguishing his cigarette with a casual gesture. As she walked in, he noticed a change in her posture, in her expression. Mía’s gaze, usually intense but controlled, was now fierce and determined, as if a storm was about to break inside her.

“Let’s get started,” she said, her voice rougher than usual, carrying an urgency that brooked no argument.

She advanced towards him with determination, but inside, the conflict was palpable. The voice of reason ceased to fight for a moment, distracted by the almost magnetic attraction she felt towards him. Her darker side, now governing her thoughts, lulled her in the deepest part of her mind, using the mutant’s presence to silence her. The desire to find answers in Logan’s memories, to dig into his mind, was irresistible. But to do that, she had to envelop him, capture his full attention.

Logan frowned. Something in her tone, in the energy emanating from her, made him hesitate. He stood up, as if trying to assert his presence and regain control of the situation.

“What’s going on, Mía?” he asked, trying to stay firm.

But before he could react, her darker side had already taken control. She gently pushed him onto the bed, straddling him, her legs wrapping around his sides, her body taking possession of his. The closeness, the warmth of her skin, the scent that seemed to envelop everything around him… it all washed over him like an unstoppable wave.

Logan tried to speak, but his words drowned in the tense air. His mind, always alert, began to fade under the weight of the sensations. The touch of her skin, the warmth of her body on his… it was as if, for the first time in a long while, something inside him relaxed. Suddenly, he felt Mía’s presence in his head, persistent. This time, it wasn’t painful, but rather the opposite.

As she delved deeper into his mind, her presence in the space grew more intense. Her essence, her scent, everything that was Mía, amplified in his head, surrounding him completely. Logan began to breathe harder, his body tense. The bond between them was rising to a level he had never experienced with anyone. He didn’t just feel Mía’s mind in his, but also her physical essence, every beat of her heart, every emotion that coursed through her skin.

The scent of rain, an electric buzz in the air, the heat of her presence. He closed his eyes, fighting to stay grounded. What he’d initially felt for her was now mingling with something deeper, a connection that overwhelmed him, something he struggled to handle. He knew he shouldn’t let things progress, but the intensity of what was happening had him on edge.

His muscles tensed; the control he’d always maintained over himself was slipping away with the touch she had begun to trail through his hair. He felt her in every sense, wrapping around him, making the need to touch her unbearable. He couldn’t focus on anything else. Mía’s mind was a storm in his own, and his body was responding to it in a primal, urgent way. It wasn’t just physical attraction; there was something about her calling to him in a way he couldn’t rationalize.

His heartbeat pounded in his ears, and his self-control was cracking. But beneath all that comfort, something wasn’t right. There was something in the way she looked at him, how her hands rested on his shoulders—it was too... intense. There was more in her eyes than simple attraction. It was a dangerous mix of desire and control.

Logan, confused, let the moment wash over him, but when his thoughts briefly wandered to Scott, something didn’t fit.

“What’s up with Summers?” he asked abruptly, trying to snap back to reality, his words slicing through the silence. It didn’t seem like Mía to be with him like this, at least not while she was still with Scott. But he got no answer. Her gaze darkened, her expression hardened for a moment, as if something inside her had broken. That lack of response made him realize there was more behind this moment.

“Scott?” she finally replied, her voice barely a whisper, running her nails through her hair. She tried to look innocent and almost smiled with satisfaction when she noticed a growl escaping from his throat. She almost had him.

That brief pause was enough for a spark of doubt to ignite in Logan. Something inside him, buried under the layers of sensations Mía had invoked, began to awaken. The question about Scott had started as a casual curiosity, but now, in light of her lack of response, it began to take on a different form in his mind. This wasn’t like her, and for the first time, he started to think that her state wasn’t the result of a simple decision.

The air between them grew thick.

“Mía...” he tried again, this time in a softer tone, trying to reconnect with the part of her he knew.

But she wouldn’t let him finish. She couldn’t lose this battle now, not when she could feel his memories at her fingertips. She leaned in, her lips barely brushing his, and Logan felt the clash of his desires mingled with a darkness that enveloped him. The warm breath on his skin drove him mad, shattering the chains with which he had held back the part of him that had been yearning for her since the first time he touched her in the Danger Room. His body reacted before his mind could sort things out. It was a kiss charged with everything she could offer, a kiss that ensnared him in the same darkness she was falling into.

Logan closed his eyes, letting the emotions engulf him. For a moment, everything felt right. Feeling complete, feeling needed—something he had never fully experienced before. But... there was something else. A bitter aftertaste to it all, as if behind that fullness lay a trap. Anger began to rise from deep within him, but it wasn’t directed at her—it was at what was happening.

Logan struggled to turn his head away, breathing deeply, trying to regain some control.

“This isn’t you, Mía...” he said softly, with that deep yet reassuring voice he always had.

The anger bubbled inside her, tired of people telling her who she should be. For a moment, both versions of her agreed on something—the frustration of being told who to be. She didn’t even know the answer herself; how dared they think they did.

Mía kissed him again, this time with more force, with a passion that came from the depths of her being. She bit his lip with intensity, and Logan had to stifle a groan. He pulled her closer, feeling that the contact between them wasn’t enough. He needed more. The kiss was intense, raw, as if every cell in her body was pouring its desire into him, pushing every boundary.

Through the mental link they shared in that moment, Mía allowed Logan to feel what she was feeling. She wanted him to see her desire, to understand that she wanted him, that this wasn’t just manipulation. But in her haste, in her desperate attempt to distract him, she made a mistake. Unintentionally, she loosened her grip on her rational side, and the girl’s awareness let slip an alert to the mutant, despite the fact that she was enjoying the moment as much as he was. It allowed him to glimpse, even if for a second, that yes, she was using him. That part of her, the part struggling to control everything, saw him as a means to her own ends.

Logan, bewildered by the torrent of emotions and sensations, tried to process it. He felt Mía’s burning desire, but also the cold sting of betrayal. The mix of both shook him, but before he could react, Mía intensified the moment. She used her powers to dig her nails into his back, opening wounds that healed immediately. Logan gasped, enveloped by so many sensations. The blend of pleasure and pain clouded his judgment, and he was on the verge of giving in, of letting his more primal side surface as well.

Finally, with all the willpower he could muster, Logan pulled his face away from hers, breaking the kiss. His breathing was ragged, and his body trembled, still responding to the storm of sensations Mía had unleashed in him. With a low growl, he managed to gently push her back, breaking the physical contact that kept him tethered to her.

“Mía, stop...” His voice was rough, but there was a mix of pleading and determination in it. The look he gave her was intense, a mix of desire and suppressed anger. He couldn’t deny that what she was doing affected him, tempted him, but Logan wasn’t someone who would be dragged along easily.

She looked at him with frustration in her eyes, almost defiant, but there was something more. She knew Logan had seen part of the truth. She knew that, despite her desire, she had let him see her other side, the one that used him for her own ends. And that threw her off balance.

Still trembling, she tried to maintain control over herself, over the situation. She brought a hand to her face, as if trying to remove an invisible mask that was choking her. She wanted to continue, to hold on to that control, but she was now aware of how difficult it was becoming.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, her voice breaking, but her hand trembled as it left his back and stroked her hair. Logan closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He knew there was something profound between them, but he also understood that she was torn between her desire and that part of her that controlled her, pushing her to do things she didn’t fully understand.

“You don’t need to do this,” he murmured, placing his hands over hers to stop her. There was no aggression in his gesture, just a firmness indicating that he wouldn’t be dragged along.

The weight of those words fell on them with an intensity he hadn’t expected. She felt his darker side slowly retreating, but not because she wanted it to, but because Logan was demanding it. It was hard to maintain control. It was like an internal current fighting to take over, but every time he looked at him, with eyes full of pain and understanding, something inside her broke a little more.

“It’s easier this way...” she whispered, not sure if she was speaking the truth or just trying to justify what she had done. But the phrase sounded hollow even to her own ears.

“It’s not, Mía.” Logan’s voice was firm, though there was a trace of vulnerability in it. It pained him to see her like this, caught in that internal struggle, and it moved him to want to help her, not just because of the desire he felt, but because of something deeper. A connection that, though he couldn’t explain, he couldn’t ignore.

She finally gave in. She couldn’t keep fighting, not against this. She felt she was losing, not just the internal battle, but something more valuable. The control she had longed for was slipping away, and with it, the darkness that had dominated her every move began to dissipate, slowly, painfully.

Tears started to flow from her eyes before she could stop them. Everything she had tried to hold back was now spilling out. She sobbed uncontrollably, burying her face in Logan’s chest, seeking refuge in the only place she had left.

Logan held her without saying a word. There were no words that could comfort her in that moment, but his warmth, his presence, were enough. He felt Mía’s body shaking, her breathing slowing, until gradually, exhaustion overcame her.

And there, in the mutant’s arms, Mía fell asleep, as he held her close, determined not to let her sink any deeper into the darkness that tormented her so much.

#hugh jackman #logan howlett #logan x f!reader #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett x reader #marvel #wolverine #wolverine x reader #x men #mcu #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine #unchainmyheart #logan howlett fluff #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett blurb #wolverine imagine

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motheroffeline · 2 months ago

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Infatuation (pt. 4)

Pairing: Dark! Aaron Pierre x Photographer! Oc! (Ari)

Warnings: Minors DNI 18+!!!, Stockholm syndrome, P in D, derogatory name calling (baby, bitch, etc.), oral (f receiving), like one slap but it's kinda extreme (f receiving), and goal of causing a mental break.

Word count: 1800+

Note: I'm kind of ashamed of myself ngl this some sick shit lol. If you haven't read the previous parts you probably should so it'll make a bit of sense. Anywayssss I'd let this man do unspeakable shit to me.

Ari never imagined that she would be tied up in the back of a man’s car driving over 100 miles per hour in the middle of the night but life was unexpected. Aaron’s teeth were clenched in anticipation and focus as he swerved in and out of lanes; cutting across Royal street and entering into Magazine street only to end up on St. Charles Avenue. Ari had moved from Long Beach to New Orleans a few years back but she did not go out frequently enough to know the different roads and where they led to. Her friend cajoled Ari about being so clueless about everything and that joke haunted her at this very moment because direction and knowing is what would set her free but she had neither. Cars sounded like busy bees as they came to and fro by Ari’s car which was being driven pretty aggressively by Aaron. And when the car came to a stop Ari thought that her face would get carpet burn from the cashmere interior of her trunk. Aaron popped open the trunk and took her in with a lecherous smirk, eating her up with his eyes.

“Okay, this is what’s going to happen right now…I don’t feel like moving all of my shit so you’re moving into my house. Clothes? Won’t need them with what we’ll be doing and I know you got people you talk to so I’ll have to worry about that too. But, Ari, I can be in multiple places can’t I? Yes, I can. Media so fucking stupid I can show up to an interview smiling and what have you and go home to fuck you: nobody knows! I mastered the art of the facade and can smile with my eyes even when I don’t mean it.” Aaron’s eyes seemed crazed as he practically pulled Ari out of the trunk by her bound hands. Ari’s eyes stared up at the impossibly large mansion before her which pulled her out of her stupor. “Aaron this won’t work at all! You can’t just hide me in some secluded corner in the fucking house like a toy. I am a human being and I have friends and family who love me. And me? Nigga when I get the chance I’ll fucking massac-.” A blinding pain shot through Ari as Aaron’s hand collided with her left cheek which left her coughing up blood. “Keep talking crazy bitch! You just can’t get enough huh?” Ari struggled weakly as Aaron dragged her into his mansion which was a juxtaposition to its modern interior. It was actually quite traditional and in any other context would be considered cozy and quaint.

“Here’s where your home is, Ari. Breathe it all in and become accustomed to it or suffer in silence for all I could give a give a fuck about. By the way I want your ass in a bathtub. In about 5 minutes you smell awful. I’m unfair though aren’t I? I’ve been fucking and touching you so much that you couldn’t get in a quick bath.” Aaron pushed Ari further into the house with an unwilling force. Every inch of the house seemed to have either a boho or sentimental decor. “I’m not staying here!” Aaron screamed out the words as though someone could rescue her from the mere sentiment alone but it was superfluous. He just chuckled and started pulling Ari upstairs to a bathtub. Once again, everything was so reminiscent of her grandmother’s house that it felt like a strange sort of comfort but the situation made it all uneasy. Aaron began to turn on the water which seemed to be mostly hot instead of cold and pushed Ari before she could even think to catch herself. “I think I’ll take you out of these belts and zip ties and shit since you wanna shut up for once. Ari, do it like that all the time, okay? I’ll take it real easy and then you’ll really start to love it… None of that fake ass pornographic type shit but something real..” His words wandered as he began to roughly scrub against Ari’s shivering frame as she took in the delusion in his words. There was simply no chance in hell that she would ever love Aaron – demon of a man. She felt like dry heaving as his large hands paid special attention to her most vulnerable areas. “Time to dry off now.” Ari felt like a marionette doll as her unpracticed legs stood up and over the bathtub. “Mhm face the wall I don’t want to see you cry right now… Yeah I can hear you crying shhh It’s gonna be okay. Daddy is rightttt here… You lucky and don’t even know it. Women want to be in your position and you bawling like a damn baby just get it over it. The worst is yet to come and here you are dry heaving, naked as a pig, and just exposed.”

_________________________________________________________

The world was a blur as Aaron pounded into Ari like she had stolen his money but no she had stolen something worse: his dignity, his personal information and all of which belonged to him. His dick was throbbing inside of her like something mad and it all came crashing back harshly. Ari’s main motive for trying to blackmail Aaron was to become a part of his life and to be with him and now that she was it was all so much worse for her. It seemed like every part of her plan had tricked and been conniving enough to lead to her careening down onto this path. Aaron? A monster? If anyone had told her such a thing just a couple of days ago she probably would have slapped them across the face in his honor but it was too true. “Ohhhh shit your pussy feels so good when you not fighting. Yeah mmmmmm! Just take it, just take it because.. Oh- flutter around me just like that baby.” The man was crazy and there was no argument in that just a few hours ago he had been calling her a bitch and now she was baby.

The headboard was bouncing off against the wall as he pounded into her with all of his might. His thumb was toying against her clit making Ari feel a subjected type of pleasure which she began to yield into. “Ohhhhhhh you hitting my spot!” Ari cried out, humiliated at herself at letting her body be desecrated by Aaron. He smirked to himself and put himself in a new position which had her seeing stars. It was like he was trying to scissor her like a lesbian would but his big dick just kept slipping out of her pussy. “Shittt I always wanted to try this on somebody glad you here Ari. Oh good lord…pussy sucking me right in like it want me to stay. You want me to stay, Ari?” Aaron said as his voice became hoarse with pleasure and his fingers pulled and twisted her ebony nipples.

Aaron suddenly pulled out of her and began to vigorously finger her pussy which sent her into a wailing fit. His wrist was literally colliding with the fat of her ass. “Oh, gonna cum aren’t you Ari? Yesss cum for daddy. See how good I can be? I give out rewards for good girls who give me what I want. You had everything I wanted since the beginning Ari and you didn’t even know it. Had an amazing job which I gave to you!, a little social circle but you were still close with everybody, and a little house out there in the woods. I crave simplicity so much it drives me fucking insane and no one ever sees it. Fuck glam I want to see trees instead of glitter instead of sequined dreams.” Ari cried through her orgasm as it ripped through her causing her to squirt all over his bed. But in the midst of her pleasure his words had truly shocked Ari. Aaron who always seemed so comfortable in the limelight being secretly overwhelmed by all of his publicity. Really it all made sense but what did not make sense was how insane the man truly was.

His little tangent about envying her even went on as his head dropped between her legs. “I think you understand me, Ari. Like right now you quiet and I like that you’re finally shutting up and letting me explain myself. I’m no sicker than a man who eats because he is hungry. This is a lust for me to see you crumble because it proves that under you there are so many mistakes. I have seen you cry and stagnate in horror at the collision of my hands on you. Oh, just to see you tremble just a little more I have to but your physical body will never understand it all. Pussy tasting like a fruit on a hot summer morning, beautiful ass brown eyes gleaming like they wanna cry and you want me to forget about this whole situation. Nah.” Even under her pleasure-induced haze caused by his supple lips on her clit, Ari still noted that Aaron had quoted one of his movies: “Rebel Ridge”. It seemed like he was a man of self-love but longing for nature to escape the constant vexation he felt under the watchful eye of the press.

His lips were kissing and sucking Ari’s clit like he was trying to nurse the second orgasm out of her. It was as though he was worshipping her instead of tearing her down like he had been doing up until this point. Aaron’s tongue pushed into Ari’s pussy desperately searching for her spot trying to get her to crumble. Those eyes of his always seemed like they were changing color even in the night time when there was no light reflecting on them. Sometimes there was a pale brain, a dominant green, or a misty grey but there was never one color to describe his eyes as. Ari’s eyes rolled to the back of her head as she saw her arousal glistening on the tip of his tongue as he flicked her clit back and forth. “Cum right now.” Ari couldn’t contain herself and let out a string of curses as her climax hit her like a bag of bricks, everything in the world could have turned into mush and Ari wouldn’t have cared during her pleasure.

Ari breathed rapidly trying to recover from her orgasm and Aaron sat in the middle of the bed just observing the sweat beading to the top of Ari’s forehead and her eyes daring themselves to close.

“We haven’t even made it halfway there yet, Ari.” His voice whispered next to her damp neck.

#aaron pierre #fucked up #oc #black men #blackmail kink #lowkey tweaking

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prettyinpikk · 4 months ago

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This is a multi-part series. Credit for both OCs in this goes to @norvstforthvwickvd, and I want to thank my bestie @sologenny for helping me write this series.♡

Terry Richmond x OC! Stormi Montoya

18+, Augst, fluff, mention of shooting, killing, dying, and death, blood, childhood friends to lovers dynamic, choking, kissing, dom and sub, p in v, bondage, blindfolding, gagging, roleplaying, and hair pulling (eventually).

This is part 1 of A Soldier's Duty

Hector’s POV:

“ALL RIGHT CADETS! GET READY TO FIRE!” screamed my sergeant.

We were currently in Berlin, Germany for war. I was ready for anything to come my way. I had both guns loaded, and a cannon behind me just in case the enemy got too close, or tried to come from behind. My other team members were lined up just how we were taught, and how we practiced. We were just waiting for the German army to strike before us. Anyone or thing that tried to come at us would be completely debunked because of how much we’ve prepared for this very moment.

I saw a German soldier running toward our line, and our sergeant screamed “FIRE!” That was the only thing I heard before all the shots started firing. I watched each and every German soldier’s body drop towards the floor while our soldiers ran towards their bodies and stole their guns. We needed their guns to make sure that we had extra supplies since the US didn’t want to send more until the middle of December.

One by one, people were falling to their knees and I saw so many lifeless bodies, wondering if this was the end of any families’ hope and faith. Making sure that I wouldn’t be one of those bodies. I couldn’t leave the family I had back in America. Not now. Not today. Especially when I have Stormi waiting for me to come home.

“SHOOT THE CANNON!” We all heard Sergeant yelling repeatedly. A group of three, myself and two other soldiers, went towards the cannon. I completely forgot that I wasn’t supposed to leave the barricades that we’d set up abandoned. I had left my other team members to fend for themselves, when I’m one of the strongest people who’s enrolled, well that’s what I thought. I quickly realized my mistake after I shot the cannon and felt a warm feeling in my chest. I looked down to see blood coming straight out of my chest while I tried to put my hand over my chest to try to stop the bleeding. It wasn’t working. All I could think of at this moment was Stormi. And how she might never see me again if I don’t get medical help right now.

“While he entangled his hands in my hair, I made sure to open my mouth as wide as possible- WOAH! Stormi, what the hell do you have me reading?” I asked my younger sister as she wanted to show me this new book she’s been writing.

“What? It’s just called smut Hector. The writing class that I signed up for wants me to step out of my comfort zone, and the teacher said that it could be anything. It’s not like I’m gonna share this one out though.” She said as she shrugged her shoulders while eating a gogurt pack.

“Well tell your teacher to stop making you step out of your comfort zone. Got me reading shit that YOU don’t even need to be writing OR experiencing. Don’t let me catch you actually doing this shit Stormi.” I said while I mugged her and handed her book back.

Her teacher can keep the whole assignment. I want nothing to do with it and I hope she gets an A on whatever the hell that was.

~~~~~

I tried my hardest to run and get some help so they could dislodge the bullet. But I was too late. I didn’t know what to do. I was falling over my own feet and everything around me was fading. My vision was getting blurry and I just barely saw two soldiers coming to pick me up. I fought to keep my eyes open, but it wasn’t working. The only thing left on my mind was my sister. I can’t let her forget about me. “M-make sure t-to tell Stormi Montoy-ya I love h-her.” And with that, I officially closed my eyes.

~A week later ~

Stormi’s POV:

I was sitting in my office writing an overview for this article that my boss needed for a deadline that was pretty close before receiving a knock on the door. “Coming!” I yelled out at the continuing knock.

“Alright, alright I’m here!” I opened the door to see two marines standing there in their camo uniforms with an envelope, a folded flag, and a plaque of medals. “Are you Stormi Montoya?” one of the soldiers asked. “Yes, I am w-what’s going on?” I held onto the door for support not wanting to believe what was happening in front of me. “We as soldiers of this country are here to present you the medals and flag of your late brother Cadet Hector Montoya who passed in the line of duty Monday-” “OH GOD NOOO!” I let out my cries of terror as the cadet continued with the speech but I couldn’t care less my brother was dead. I stood there with my legs barely able to hold my body up as tears fell from my face and my body shaking with sorrow as I took the things from the soldiers and just closed the door, left with a big empty feeling in my chest.

I looked down at the envelope that had my name on it in his handwriting on the front. Tears overflowed my vision as I broke down more, the grief taking over every inch of my body finally falling to my knees, cradling everything to my chest. “Hector!…. HECTOR!” I called and cried for my big brother pleading for him to come back. It was the same feeling that took over my life when our parents passed after I went to college. “Please Hector, I can’t be alone like this, you know I hate that. You promised to always come back.”

“Hector, where are you going?” I asked him as he packed a bag to go by Terry’s for the weekend. “I’m going by Terry’s house for the weekend. You know this Stormer I told you this five times already.” He said with a roll of his eyes but I knew he wasn’t really annoyed with me because of the affectionate nickname he always called me when he knew I was actually worried. “You’ll come back right?” I asked as I stood next to him. My 7-year-old self said in my Disney princess nightgown and bunny slippers. “Yea I'm coming back Stormer it’s only for the weekend and plus I’m your big brother I always come back.” Was the last thing he said before he gave a gap tooth smile.

I finally calmed down enough after a while to look at the letter that Hector wrote to me. I flipped it over to the back taking out the folded piece of paper, I felt another wave of tears wanting to come out again. I opened it to read:

Dear Stormer,

“Oh God,” I said my voice cracking.

I missed you very much sis I want wanted to come home and tell ya about the crazy ass training I went through before the war in Berlin for the holidays and taste the cherry pie you said wanted to try to make on your own and to read over your recent works that you wrote. But if you got this letter that sadly means none of that can happen… Now I don’t you to go crying over me and the fact that I’m not here anymore. That doesn't mean I’m not still here for you. I want you to keep writing so maybe in the future you can show your kids all of your work like you did with me, but they’d probably end up being nerds like you and go write novels or something. I don't know, you always had the brains for stuff like this. Anyways I just want you to take care of yourself and even if you feel like you can’t Terry will look out for you. Just call him and he’ll answer for you. He promised me he would pick up where I left off if anything happened to me, to look out for you. I want you to be okay Stormer even if I'm not there. I just want you to be okay and you are not alone.

-Love your big brother, Hector

After reading the whole letter I just sat in the middle of my living room processing what I just read. My mind raced over the words, again and again, my pain flourishing into anger and hurt it was like he was ready to die as if he gave up the moment he stepped foot onto that field but I knew it was my mind and heart going through the stages of grief but I couldn’t help it, I already lost my parents and now my brother I just couldn’t take the pain anymore.

I got up from the floor, putting my brother’s things down on the coffee table before I headed upstairs to my room and just flopped down on the bed. The side effects of me crying finally caught up to me causing me to drift off to sleep. Maybe I’ll wake up and this would all be a bad dream.

#rebel ridge #terry richmond #terry richmond x oc #aaron pierre

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revalifan85 · 4 months ago

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The trials of a new world.

It is said that the Jade Emperor is who decides what happens to this world. What laws we and all of heaven must follow. So what happens when someone kills him, when someone despises what he has done to this world that he supposedly cared for. That is what Azure Lion did. What the brotherhood wanted to do those hundreds of thousands years ago. Of course the big question most people would have to hearing such news is what are you going to do differently? What makes you better than the man who hate so much? That is what Azure sets out to do. To finally after all these years help others.

Then you have Mk. Someone who still in his youth became something he never thought he would be. A hero. One trained by his own hero Sun Wukong. And he loved it. But when Azure took him away, locked him in that scroll, and sliced it in half he couldn’t help but fall into despair and couldn’t stop the brotherhood from striking down the emperor. “We aren’t strong enough to stop him” Mk said. It a sad truth that the rest of his friends accept. Though not all is lost. For while it may seem like Mk and friends are alone. They are not. For Buddha decides to help Mk to realize his full potential, to find a way to save Wukong and take down the brotherhood.

Though it won’t be easy for either side it is what they must do if they desire this new world to be stable.

So ever since I finished watching season 4 of lmk I always thought about how much more interesting it would be if the brotherhood had one or two more seasons to shine along seeing what exactly they would do with the emperor’s powers. And because of that I have this weird ass plot that has been eating at my brain. So I thought it was about time I talked about it here since I got nothing else I’m using this website for.

What to expect from such idea? Well

A more detailed backstory on how the camel ridge trio and the rest of the brotherhood met.

The Jade emperor being a dick when he was alive.

Something being off with this guy saying he’s Buddha.

Monster of the week shenanigans because I can’t help myself.

Ocs that progressively become more unhinged.

Bai he being an actual character and plot important.

Adoptive dad Azure.

Macaque getting called for his bullshit from the 3 previous seasons.

Both my monarch peng and yellow tusk having more plot relevance. Especially Yellow tusk he deserves more love.

And Mk not knowing what the hell is going on :3

There is more but this what I have to share with you guys for now.

#lego monkie kid #lmk #lmk azure lion #lmk peng #lmk au #lmk yellow tusk elephant #lmk aus #lmk mk #lmk macaque #lmk sun wukong #my ocs #bai he lmk #jade emperor #lmk jade emperor

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sl-newsie · 4 months ago

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American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Ch. 54: I Have My Reasons

Masterlist: https://www.tumblr.com/sl-newsie/739551758747090944/american-woman-thomas-shelby-x-american-oc?source=share

Screw friendly pleasantries. Once I drive from the hospital I all but burst into Thomas’ office, catching him off guard.

“You said we were safe!” I yell.

Thomas is not used to me raising my voice and knows full well that I’m not doing this just out of spite. There’s the shadow of fear in his eyes. Good!

“Your family is safe. Luca Changretta met me in the office a few days ago. We agreed to keep kids out of it. And I put in a request for you and your family to be spared. That your connection to what happened in Brooklyn was all a misunderstanding.”

I scoff and plant my hands firmly on his desk. “Oh, that’s all fine and dandy, but I happened to work out my own agreement with him. I spoke to Mr. Changretta myself and we agreed to put our differences aside, one American to another.”

Thomas’ eyes flash and he stands up taller. “Do you work for him now?”

“Oh, so you go on and make a deal with Aberama Gold but it’s an abomination when I make a deal of my own? I have my own family to look out for, Thomas!”

His voice tightens. “Where’s this side of you been hiding? You go off dealing with the mob now?”

My eyes narrow. “Maybe your Brummie lifestyle’s rubbed off.”

“What the fuck-!?”

“Whoa, whoa. Let us have some order, please?” An even voice requests.

We both turn to see a familiar lady in a lavish black fur coat. Thank God, because I swear I’m about to chuck this whiskey glass straight at Thomas’ blunt head!

“May!” I pull on a friendly smile and offer a hug. “Good to see you’re back.”

“I’m here about a horse. That, and Thomas wants me to be kept safe so he made me come here.” She gives a slight glance to the office doors. “Not everyone is pleased about it.”

I read her loud and clear. “Ignore Lizzie. She’s like that with everyone.”

May relaxes and points to each of us. “Now will you both please stop quarreling for ten minutes so we can talk like civilized people?”

“Right,” Thomas grunts and glares at me. “I’ll talk to you later.”

Oh no, I’m so scared. I have nothing to apologize for! This is what I’ve been wanting for for the past two months!

“Hello, Finn,” I greet lightly when I get to the back office, still annoyed at Thomas, and see he’s not looking so well. “What’s wrong?”

“I- I couldn’t pull the trigger. I couldn’t kill them."

“The blokes from this morning?” He nods, staring at the floor. “Oh, Finn.”

I rub his shoulder and slide over a small glass of vader’s whiskey. In a brief second I look up and spot Lizzie as she passes into the office without knocking. That bitch. She can’t let Thomas be alone with another woman for more than a minute. At least I know when to back away. I hope May doesn’t take it too hard.

Finn sees where I’m looking. “I still don’t understand women.”

“And you never will.”

We watch Lizzie walk back out a few moments later, looking incredibly sour. Just because he used to fuck her doesn’t mean she’s the only woman he’s allowed to talk to.

Lizzie must sense we’re looking because she looks over with a tight frown. “What?”

“You bloody know what.”

Finn backs me up. “Even I think that was cruel.”

The doors open and Thomas walks too. “What the fuck was that about Lizzie, eh?”

Lizzie just huffs. “Have a guess.”

Thomas stares blankly at her and starts walking off. “You know what I can't even guess anymore. I’ll be back at four.”

“Why’s she still here?” Lizzie demands when she sees May hasn’t left yet.

The door opens once more and May walks past with her head held high. “Something to do with the coal miners, apparently.”

Lizzie looks like she’s about to scratch her eyes out. When May passes us I give her a discrete round of applause, to which she gives a sassy grin.

“I don’t know about you Finn but I think it’s time we clock out. How about dinner? I’m watching Charlie tonight too.”

“Or, how ‘bout you come to my new place?” Finn’s got a place? “Needs a bit-a fixing up but the stove works. It’s the apartment of the woman Arthur ran out of town.”

“Mrs. Ross?”

Finn catches on to my soft tone and his enthusiasm lowers. “Yeah.”

“Alright. I’ll pick up Charlie and be right over.”

I swiftly walk back to Watery Lane and begin to prepare a basket with things for dinner. Luckily Charlie just had a nap so he won’t be tired. I should leave a note to tell Thomas where we are-

Knock knock knock!

Now what? I cautiously pick up a cutting knife and creep towards the door. Deal or no deal I don’t trust anyone right now. If any Italians have the guts to show up here…

“Who is it?” I demand.

“It’s Bonnie!”

Oh. Not quite who I expected. I crack open the door and sure enough the dark-eyed man is waiting anxiously outside, bouncing on his feet.

“Bonnie? What are-? Oh!”

Suddenly he pulls me into a hug and all I can hope is that there are no witnesses who are going to report this to Thomas. Still, it is very sweet. The hug feels warm and comforting, like one from my broers.

“I heard about the attempt at the hospital.” Bonnie loosens his hold and scans my face. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Despite my response Bonnie isn’t convinced. “Really, I’m fine.”

“Okay. Okay.” He hangs his head. “I feel awful. I promised you would be safe-”

“Bonnie, calm down,” I cut him off. “The attack wasn’t for me. It was for Michael. But don’t worry. Everything is under control.”

Bonnie, still looking skeptical, gives in. “Okay. Are you staying in tonight, then?”

“Actually I’m having dinner at Finn’s.”

He gives a determined nod. “Alright. Then I shall escort you there.”

My eyes widen. “No that’s alright-”

“I’m not taking no for an answer,” Bonnie declares and crosses his arms smugly.

No doubt the other Blinder boys have been given orders to protect me. But what if Thomas lashes out again? It- Oh, what the Hell. I can’t keep stressing over others’ expectations.

“Very well.”

I smile warmly and allow Bonnie inside to wait while I finish packing for dinner.

“You’ll be alright?” Bonnie asks as I walk up the steps to Finn’s new place.

While holding Charlie with one hand, I use my free one to give Bonnie’s hand one last squeeze. “You worry too much. Right now you need to keep focused on your upcoming fight, champ.”

Bonnie snickers. “I suppose. Stay safe, Verena.”

Charlie pulls ahead excitedly and knocks on the door. It creaks open and Finn looks at me with a gleeful smirk.

“Bonnie dropped you off, didn’t he?”

I roll my eyes and nudge Charlie inside. “Not. A. Word. Especially to your brother. Now sit tight while I start dinner.

This is a very charming parlor. Mrs. Ross did have a nice place. It’s a shame she had to vacate. When I finish taking in the small room Finn points me to the kitchen.

“I can watch Charlie if you want?”

Charlie’s head perks up and he starts reaching for a pinwheel that was left behind. Finn starts playing with him so I take advantage to set down my coat and venture into the small kitchen.

“It’s no wonder why I get along better with men,” I comment out loud as I scan the shelves for extra ingredients. “Women are a bunch-a whiny, gossiping parasites who only create unwanted problems for me. With men what you see is what you get.”

Finn stays quiet for a minute. “Still thinking about earlier?”

“I should have known my relationship with Thomas would catch up to me eventually.” I begin chopping potatoes and change the subject. “What about you? Are you prepared to carry out what is necessary for the Peaky Blinders now?”

Finn rolls a toy ball over to Charlie and sighs. “Arthur says killing a man is just flipping on a switch. “ Now he points the conversation back to me. “How have you been with Tommy?”

Ouch! My hand slips and the blade pierces my hand. No, Finn. I have not heard much of anything from Thomas ever since he left the office. My original plan was to come back to Birmingham and tell him exactly how I feel. Instead I chickened out once again and now I’m paying the price by having Thomas gander at even more women.

“For all I know he’s smooching with May,” I mutter and wrap my hand in a cloth. “Lizzie, May. Pick one. Or both. But let’s not talk about that. What did you do today, Charlie?”

The young boy blinks. “Played blocks.”

I gesture for him to continue. “And?”

“That’s it.” He shrugs. “Oh, and I saw a bird through the window.”

“Hm.”

Has Thomas set aside any preparations for his son’s education? I may have to voice a suggestion for that.

“Where’s Ada?” I ask Finn as I plop the potatoes into boiling water.

“Talking with Jessie Eden. The strike leader.”

Ah, yes. The mention of the strike takes me back all those days ago, back when it was just Thomas and me riding through the snow without any clue of what danger was waiting. Now I can rest knowing my family is safe, but my heart’s internal struggle for his love is still raging full force. How much longer can I passively wait quietly for the right moment to tell him?

When I take Charlie back to Watery Lane it’s past ten. Thomas still isn’t back and I stubbornly decide that I don’t care. I wish that for my sanity you would believe me when I say I love you. And if he does, how can I hope for him to say ‘I love you’ when he won’t even confide in me anymore?

I lay down to sleep and in the blink of an eye it’s already morning. A cold February morning.

Honk! Honk! Hooooonk!

Jesus!

I tumble out of bed and crawl to the window towards the car horn. Who the bloody Hell-? Oh. Mr. Solomons. Of course. Not that I’m surprised to see him but Thomas doesn’t call him in unless it’s serious.

After I quickly dress into a warm wool dress I peek in to check on Charlie before heading out.

“Oh!” I gasp as the bedroom door opens and Thomas steps out. “You actually came back.”

The gangster, surprised by my subtle resentment, has a look of deep thinking. Instead of responding he walks out the front door. Do I dare disobey Polly and tell him about her arrangement with Changretta? I mean… It’s just like Thomas asked earlier. No, killing him is not the solution to this, no matter what Polly thinks. But how am I supposed to handle this?

We both approach the Jewish gangsters, who are still honking the horn. One of them looks incredibly buff.

“Is this about the fight you planned?” I whisper to Thomas.

“That’s Goliath.” He points to the gangster I'm watching, a mountain of a man with a look that says he can’t read the ABCs. “He’s fighting Mr. Gold’s son, who is registered as David.”

Bonnie has to fight him? Jesus, I need to wish him luck again.

“It’s hilarious how a man like you slips in religious representation. From the looks of him it seems quite fitting.”

We reach the car and Mr. Solomons waves to me. “Shalom, Ms. Steenstra.” He frowns at Thomas. “How come everyone is in fucking bed?”

Always the cusser. I’m surprised he hasn’t mocked Thomas’ glasses.

Thomas ignores his complaint and looks at the tall brute. “So, this must be Goliath. Right. Let me introduce you to David. This way, boys.” He starts leading them down the street and points to me. “‘S alright, Verena. You can stay here.”

Oh, so I can’t be involved with this now? I know exactly why he doesn’t want me to come with them. Because Bonnie will be there.

Mr. Solomons turns back and sees my quiet frustration. “Still living in this shithole rather than sunny America?”

My mouth presses into a line and I steal one last glance at the back of Thomas’ head. “I have my reasons.”

The Jewish gangster asks no more. “Give my regards to Colon. We’ll have to meet someday.”

His friendly remark somehow makes me smile. “Thomas makes the gin, you make the rum, we’ll make the whiskey.”

Beep! Beep!

The familiar car horn catches my attention and signals the approach of a plain truck and a beautiful blue Hudson. Thank you, Uncle Colon!

A giddy smile spreads on my face. “Ah. It has arrived.”

Thomas has stopped in his tracks and stares at the gleaming car. “What the Hell-?”

The Hudson’s driver, a simple man wearing red suspenders over a brown shirt, gray trousers, and a flat cap, steps out and looks at me.

“Steenstra?”

I nod. “Yes. Please send my thanks to Mr. Colon.”

He nods in return and climbs into the back of the truck. It speeds away, leaving the Hudson for us.

I toss Thomas the keys and pat the car door. “Get in.”

“What-? How-?” Thomas stutters as he walks up to the Hudson.

“You’re always providing me with resources from your country, so I ordered one from mine,” I explain proudly. “Uncle Colon arranged it for me. This is one of the fastest cars made in America, souped up by rumrunners to outrun any cop. If it works on them then it will work on the Italians in case you need to make a getaway. You can drive it to work. Call it a belated Christmas present.”

Um, is this not okay? Thomas hasn’t said a single sentence. He keeps looking at the Hudson’s engine and hops inside to examine the interior.

Behind me I hear Alfie give a low chuckle. “My my, I can probably count on one hand how many times I’ve seen Tommy Shelby get tongue-tied. Great work, Steenstra.”

Thomas keeps his mouth pressed into a thin line but his eyes speak out. If I know anything about him I’d say that he’s not used to unexpected gifts, as well as expressing gratitude. And Mr. Solomon’s teasing doesn’t seem to help.

“Go on then,” I urge and give him a knowing smile.

Thomas snaps out of his trance and starts the purring engine. “I’ll be back later. I still need to talk with you. About yesterday."

Oh. Right. He must still be mad about my truce with Changretta.

“Oi! Are we supposed to just walk, eh?” Alfie demands and climbs into the passenger seat while the other gangsters sit in the back. “Let’s go.”

Glad to know my small contribution is admired.

@meadows5

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