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shouyuus · 2 months ago

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counting stars

violet; 4,988 words; hurt/comfort, fluff, slightly suggestive moments, no "y/n", wlw (duh), self-indulgent to the point of lunacy, lots of kissing, mentions of bodily harm (not self-inflicted), teeth-rotting fluff mostly, popstar!reader x vi au

summary: when vi shows up at your door, what to do but to let her in?

a/n: bc nothing bad is allowed to happen to vi in my fictional world(s). and also im literally cackling ofc the fic that ppl r the least interested in posted first is the one that i post first; i guess i just like to be contrary but also i want to spoil vi and this is the only way i know how

─── Ⅵ SHE SHOWS UP UNANNOUNCED, split lip and bloody knuckles, leaning against your doorframe on a thursday night; you answer the door in your sheer pink nightgown and fluffy slippers, a bottle of rose chilling in a bucket on the table.

“vi?”

“hey princess —” she clears her throat, her smirk going lopsided as she tries to hide a clear wince. a bead of blood seeps out the corner of her mouth as she sucks in a shaky breath, “miss me?”

your lashes flutter with worry as you step aside to let her through — there’s a distinct limp to her gait that she can’t quite hide with her usual swagger.

“what happened?” you ask, letting the door click shut, following half a step behind her as she drags herself into your penthouse flat, letting out a low whistle as she looks around.

“nice place you got here. fits though, pretty castle for a pretty princess —”

“violet…”

you reach out with delicate fingers, taking slow steps forward; she hisses out a breath, her eyes sharp and wild as a wounded lion’s, her mouth a blunt-edged slash as she swallows, gaze flickering between your fingertips and your face as if she’s unsure what you might do.

she winces as you rub a light thumb along her cheek; your finger pulls away red.

“sorry —” the word rips from her at your touch. her eyes drop, her whole body shakes. “i — i didn’t know where else to go — and i — i remembered seeing that stupid 100 questions video you did here for —”

“for the fashion magazine, yeah,” you say, your voice soft as a baby’s breath. your hand lingers, a palm against her cheek. she leans into your touch, the movement small as heartbreak, but just as heavy.

“c’mon, lets get you cleaned up.”

you let your hand trail down her arm till your fingers link, and you lead her to you expansive couch, pressing her down firmly even as she frowns at her grime-covered clothes against your pristine white sofa.

“i’d offer to pay for dry cleaning but —”

you cut her off with a sharp look.

“don’t you dare. and plus, i’ve been meaning to change up the upholstery forever.”

you grab a bottle of vodka from the top shelf and a box of cotton balls, plopping down across from her on the couch in a flurry of pink-colored satin, inching forward till you’re nearly parked in her lap.

vi’s eyebrows hike as you pop the top off the vodka bottle, a grin twitching at her lips.

you roll your eyes.

“it’s not for drinking —” you soak a few cotton balls in the vodka even as vi’s expression falls. you lean in; vi’s hands find their way to bend of your waist, settling there as you daub gingerly at the blotches of drying blood on her face.

“ouch —” vi winces dramatically as you press down on a particularly deep cut, her lips pushing up into a pout, “not even a little bit? might help dull out the pain —”

she cuts off as you swipe a thumb along her bottom lip, breath hitching as you frown slightly, making to tug away for a fresh cotton ball.

“don’t — don’t leave —” her voice comes out harsh, desperate. you still, expression softening impossibly.

“i’m not,” you say, patient. she finds her fingers digging into your hips but you only smile. “i’m not going anywhere. promise. but i do need another cotton ball.”

she worries at her bottom lip, and already, you can see the fresh blood collecting in at the corner of her mouth. you press back into her space, wiping the blood away. her entire body slants towards you, her shoulders tight, her arms flexed, as if she’s bracing for a punch or a kiss.

you nudge her nose with yours, lifting up ever so slightly to press your lips to her forehead.

the dam breaks — all the pieces falling, her head tipping forward onto your shoulder, her hands wrapping around you tight, and then tighter. you feel yourself being hauled into her lap as she buries her face in the crook of your neck, a sound caught halfway between a gasp and a sob wrenching from her throat.

“f-fuck — shit —”

there’s heat to her skin, the roughness of her bandages, fraying at the edges, the worn-in material of her pants, the damp streaks of her hair tickling your cheek. her breath is uneven as it splays out against your collarbones, and when she finally tugs away to wipe at her face with the back of her hand, looking anywhere but at you, her lashes blink away wet.

“sorry — god this must be real sexy, right? mm — fuck —” she sniffles, shaking out her hand, her other one coming up to caress your cheek. her gaze is unfocused even as she skims her fingers over your skin. “god, you’re so soft. it’s like you’re made of — of marshmallows or something —”

you catch her hand with a tiny sigh, letting your gaze flicker over the bloodied bandages before you rub a thumb along an unmarred patch of skin.

“and you can be too. if you ever wanted to learn.”

she goes quiet then, the bravado bleeding from her as you continue your quiet work of cleaning all her varied injuries, disinfecting the cuts and bandaging the bruises. for the most part, she stays quiet, offering up the bloodied parts of herself for your perusal without resistance. it’s only when you shift back or make to tug away for a second that she jerks forward, resolute in her all-consuming need to keep you close.

“there. that’s about as much as i can do right now,” you say, heaving a sigh as you brush away several strands of black-pink hair from her face, letting your thumb skim over the tattoo on her cheek.

“thanks.” her voice comes out slightly hoarse, her eyes cutting away from you for a second before flickering back.

“i’d say it’s nothing but…” you let your thumb trail down the line of her jaw, tracing over her fluttering pulse as you work your slow way down her neck, “i mean —” you let out a soft laugh, hiccupping slightly as she takes the chance to tug you even closer, pressing you to her, chest to chest, so that you have to brace both your palms against her shoulders just to keep steady. neither of you mentions the fact that her arms are shaking.

“it was a bad night,” she says. and it’s all she offers for a few minutes, but you don’t push her, content to rest against her, let her run circles into your skin with her fingers against the small of your back, her breaths evening out till she looks back up at you with a wry grin.

“let me guess,” you say, linking your fingers behind her neck, “you should see the other guy though, right?” you drop your voice in a mocking imitation; it sounds nothing like her but it manages to draw out a laugh, the sound ricocheting between the pair of you like an echo till it dissipates, leaving the air somehow slightly warmer than before.

“yeah. somethin’ like that,” she murmurs, leaning forward to nudge your nose with hers, eyes going dark.

you cup her cheeks and let her kiss you, lips on lips and gasping breaths, till her fingers are inching up the thin material of your night dress, bunching it up, her thumbs tracing the ridges of your ribs, the weight of her body pressing you back into the plush couch, far too big for the pair of you —

“v-vi — wait —” you gasp away from her, fingers tangled in her oil slick hair, her mouth trailing hot and wet down the side of your neck. she makes a grumbling sound, nipping at your collarbones before resting her chin on your sternum, her hands still grazing further and further up your nightgown.

“c’mon princess — you got to play doctor, so now lemme pay you back proper —“

“vi.” the sharpness to your voice jolts her, and a frown creases her forehead as she blinks up at you with her gunpowder eyes, her fingers now still against your skin. you puff out a breath, pushing yourself back up to cup her cheeks, squeezing them slightly between your palms.

“i don’t want you to ‘pay me back’ for anything.”

hurt and confusion chase each other in a butterfly-wing flutter of emotions across her eyes before she pulls back.

“you don’t want this?”

you fight back the urge the roll your eyes as you sigh, reaching out to tug her back, this time, it’s you crowding into her personal space, leaning in to kiss her solidly on the lips. you feel her go soft against you, her hands cupping the ridges of your ribs once more.

“of course i want this,” you murmur against her lips, “but i — i don’t want it as ‘payback’ for anything. i…” your breath catches as vi leans in to nip at your bottom lip, heat pluming up the back of your neck, cresting into your chest as you blink at her, “i want this… if you want to give it. and — and i want it because — because i want you.”

she makes a strange, pitched noise in the back of her throat as she crushes you to her, her mouth slotting over yours so desperately that your teeth clack, but when she pulls back, she’s shaking her head, resting her forehead against yours with a sigh.

“shit princess — you can’t say shit like that and not expect me to lose my fuckin’ mind — fuck —“

you let out a tinkling laugh, fingers now massaging the cords of muscle at the nape of her neck. a shiver runs through her, her lashes a sweep of ink and shadow.

“relax… i’m not going anywhere. promise,” you remind her even as she tips into you once more, a whine working from her throat into yours as her fingers dig into the supple skin of your waist, dragging you down the length of the couch till you’re pinned beneath her thighs.

she pulls away panting, your own chest a staccato rise and fall. but your eyes are steady when she finds them again and you reach up to trace her cheek.

“when’s the last time you’ve had a bath?”

the question catches her off-guard, making her jerk back slightly, a frown ticking down between her brows.

“what?”

you giggle, “a bath. like, a proper one.”

one of her eyebrows kick up, “you sayin’ i smell or something?”

you sigh, yet again fighting the urge to roll your eyes as you push yourself up onto your elbows, your pink nightgown rucked up to your thighs, your hair falling out of the messy bun you’d twisted it up into earlier that evening.

“no,” you let your voice linger on the word, pinning vi with a look, “but you do taste like the inside of a paint can so.”

her eyes narrow but she lets you wiggle out from beneath her, your fingers trailing down her arm to tug her behind you as you lead her into the master bathroom. the light clicks on and vi scoffs.

“wow.”

“pick a bubble-bath, any bubble-bath — my favorite’s the —”

“rose one?” she finishes, lifting up the nearly empty bottle of light pink bubbly water displayed on a white marble shelf full of multi-colored liquids.

you allow yourself a blush as you shrug, twisting on the taps and testing the temperature, drying off your hand before turning back towards her.

“so i know what i like. sue me.”

vi smirks in honest this time, uncapping the bottle and wafting it beneath her nose.

“mm, delicious.”

you don’t miss the licentious lilt to her voice, nor the flicker of dark, hungry light in her eyes.

you turn away, leaning across the vast bathtub to grab a white can.

“if you think that’s delicious — wait till you see the sugar scrub — oh!”

a pair of arms snakes around your middle, pulling you back against abs and a bandaged up chest. vi’s voice is hot by your ear as she noses into the side of your cheek.

“yeah? is it gonna make me taste less like the inside of a paint can?”

“mhm,” you say, letting your free hand rest naturally over both of hers, the other hand dipping into the sugar scrub to swipe a dollop of sticky white crystals onto her nose. she gasps, jerking back for just a second, going slightly cross-eyed before a mischievous expression eclipses her features and she hoists you up into her arms, holding you suspended over the slowly filling bathtub.

“don’t play this game with me, princess — there’s only one way it’ll end.”

you let out a bright peal of laughter that echoes around the soft marble walls, looping both your arms around her neck.

“try me.”

for a second, she makes as if to drop you, but she pulls you back into her chest at the last second, cradling you against her.

“alright princess, let’s see how good this bath is,” she says, her voice soft as she sets you back down on your feet. you lean up to give her a quick peck before taking the rose-scented bubble bath and pouring it into the swirling water.

by the time the tub is filled, the room is filled with a thin gauze of steam, and when you turn, you find vi standing awkwardly behind you, watching with one hand on her opposite elbow, rocking on the balls of her feet.

“in general,” you say, pushing to your feet, “people take baths with their clothes off.”

vi’s cheeks go blotchy, and her eyes skitter about the room.

“what, i’m just supposed to strip here and —”

her words cut off abruptly as you turn your back on her and tug your night gown from your body, stepping into the bubble-filled water, glancing over your shoulder.

“you coming?”

vi nearly trips out of her tight-fitting pants, tugging haphazardly at the bandages wrapped around her torso. when she finally steps into the water opposite you, she drops down with a soft splash, a loud groan rolling from her as her eyes flutter shut.

when she forces them open again, it’s to find you watching her with your round doe eyes, a sweet, knowing smile perched over your very kissable lips. she wonders at the heat in her cheeks, at the way it prickles at her skin, thinks to herself that it must be the steam, must be the hot water currently melting away at the knots that had braided themselves into her muscles the past few weeks, but she when she feels your calf nudging against her’s she can’t help the way her breath skids inside her chest.

“c’mere,” you motion, and vi blinks at you for a second before shifting till you’re face to face, her hovering uncertainly between your legs before you jerk your chin for her to turn around.

the bathtub is more than big enough to fit the both of you, and for a while, a comfortable quiet settles as she leans her back against your chest, your fingers dancing up the length of her arms, trailing warm water along her shoulders, tangling in the rapidly lightening tips of her hair.

the dark dye runs off her, pluming in the water like spilled ink. you steadily work your fingers through her tresses, smoothing out the knots, occasionally letting your nails scrape against her scalp.

“holy fuck that feels nice…”

you smile, washing as much the dye out as you can before rubbing your thumbs into her shoulders, feeling the tightness coiled there like springs. she grunts, shifting beneath your touch.

“y-you don’t have to do this y’know —” she tries to pull away, only to have you click your tongue impatiently and tug her right back.

“lemme know if i’m hurting you, okay?” is the only thing you say as you continue to massage her shoulders.

she softens, letting out a long sigh and a small chuckle.

“you’d have to try real hard to manage that, sweetcheeks.”

you puff out a tiny breath before digging your thumb into a particularly tender knot, her entire body buckling away from you.

“ow!” she twists around, eyes wide, even as you cast her a look that has her turning back again, but not before she flicks a bit of water at you, her other hand resting easy on your knee, bent next to her hip as she leans against you once more.

“this is the first thing they teach you how to do in a brothel,” you say, your voice light as you slowly work the tightness from each of vi’s muscles, applying gentle pressure, using the bubbles as lubricant.

“wait what?” she tries to turn around again, only for you to pinch lightly at one of her loosening knots, tutting.

“stay still and i’ll tell you the story.”

she stills, though her breath is still short, and the hand that had so recently been lolling against your knee is now stiff, her fingers wrapped around your limb as if to brace herself for what you’re about to say next.

“most people don’t know this, but i’m actually from the undercity — all my earliest memories are of the brothel, the girls there braiding my hair, or letting me sit on their vanities, smearing bits of lipstick on my cheeks as rouge. i think my mother must’ve been one of those girls once but… i never knew her. and it didn’t really matter anyway — i think… i was one of the lucky ones. at least i always had water and a hot bath when i wanted it.”

vi’s fingers tighten on your thigh before she lets up her grip, sighing as she presses her back more firmly against you.

“i’m sorry.”

you shrug, shifting a bit of hair from one shoulder to the other as you continue to dig your meticulous fingers into her weary muscles.

“don’t be. like i said, i was one of the lucky ones. but… i always knew that we were living a hard life. sometimes, one of the girls would vanish and… we’d never know where she went. sometimes, a guest would get a bit too rough and —” you let out a tiny laugh, “well i got pretty good at patching up cuts and bruises.”

you flatten your palms against her skin, running them along the expanse of her shoulders before pushing down her arms to squeeze at her firm biceps.

“there. how’s that feel?”

vi sits up, rolling her neck and shoulders with a loud groan.

“damn. that feels amazing but —” her expression softens as she reaches for you, running tender thumbs along the bend of your cheek.

“you — you don’t have to tell me this if you don’t want to.”

“i know.” you catch her hand in yours, fingers curling in. all around you, perfumed mist hangs light in the air, hazing out the already diffused lighting. “but i want to.”

vi smiles, nodding.

you take another breath. your interlaced fingers sink into the murky water.

“when i turned thirteen, they started teaching me the ropes — massages first —”

“thirteen,” vi’s voice is harsh in the mist-hung room, the syllables cracking as they reverberate against the slick tiles.

you lilt your head, “how old were you when you ran your first job?”

vi stares, her mouth agape, “b-but — that’s — that’s different!”

“is it?”

she sputters for a few more seconds before deflating, shaking her head, tugging her hand from your grasp to splash water into her face, running both hands over her eyes with a groan.

somehow, she could picture it perfectly, you with your sweet smile and darling eyes, running deft fingers over the shoulders and necks of the unnamed girls at babette’s as they talk you through how to press just so, how to lull someone into your lap, and later, into your bed.

“but like i said… i was one of the lucky ones. really, really lucky — because one day, while i was refilling the water and tidying up the rooms, a guest heard me singing and… he offered me a gig topside.” you let yourself sink into the slowly cooling water, your hair flowing in a soft halo around your shoulders.

vi watches you with an inexplicable expression on her face — half-sadness, half-wonder.

“and the rest, well —” you flick a bit of water towards her; she blinks it away before pulling you into her chest, “you know the rest. or, i mean, i don’t know if you watched that entire 100-questions video —”

“i did.”

vi loops her arms around you, hooking her chin over your shoulder.

and once again, the quiet settles around you both, hanging solid in the air like so much dissipating steam.

“all that to say…” you murmur, turning slightly to face her, searching her eyes with your own, “you don’t have to pretend with me. not with me. not when it’s just the two of us.”

you watch her eyes widen ever so slightly, watch as her lips part and she hesitates over the words hanging at the tip of her tongue.

“thanks,” she finally manages, “for… for telling me this.”

you smile, pulling back to reach for the white can, unscrewing the top.

“okay. sugar-scrub time.”

by the time the pair of you leave the bath, the water’s cooled to a tepid chill at best. you offer vi a fluffy towel, wrapping one around yourself as you pad from the room in search for some clean loungewear.

you return with a large t-shirt and some shorts, which vi eyes for a second before pulling on, her cheeks darkening as she sees you watching her.

“quit looking at me like that…” she huffs as you tug on a loose shirt yourself, pulling on a pair of pink, lace-trimmed panties.

“like what? like you deserve to be looked at?” you ask, voice even as you run a towel over your damp hair. vi crinkles her nose, frowning down at her dirty clothes, piled in a lump on your bathroom floor. you shrug.

“leave it. that’s a tomorrow-problem. c’mon, bed-time.”

vi sighs, ruffling at her hair with the white towel, staring at the gray streaks she leaves behind. she glances up to find you standing by the bathroom door, a hand outstretched behind you, waiting.

she licks her lips before tossing the towel over her pile of clothes and reaching out to take your hand.

your bedroom is dark, lit only by the scatter of city lights from beyond your windows. through it, the city is a pulsing maze of tiny lights and spectral towers. you pause, glancing towards the skyline with a sigh.

“it’s a beautiful view,” vi says, coming up to stand behind you, looping an arm around your waist. you lean into her touch, her warmth, turning slightly to find her eyes just as faraway.

“yeah,” you grin, reaching up to touch her cheek, “you are.”

she turns, blinking at you for a second before your words register. she groans even as you laugh, the sound fizzling through her till her skin prickles with warmth and goosepimples.

“c’mon. bed.” she says, and you grin, allowing yourself to be led to your own bed, pulling back the silken covers, slipping beneath and watching as vi inches in next to you, pillowing her cheek on her arm. you angle your body towards hers, letting out a long, steadying breath.

she mirrors you — one breath, then another, then another.

“thanks, princess,” she says, after a few long moments.

you shuffle forward beneath the blankets, reaching out to wrap an arm around her waist. she closes her eyes, bending her head till you’re nose to nose.

“for what?”

vi lets out a puffed laugh, her lashes fluttering open again.

“for… letting me in.”

you press you lips, your eyes searching her’s. and here, in the dim moon-lit night, her eyes shone like twin stars, bright as firelights. you inch just a bit closer, letting your foreheads press as she shifts an arm to slip around your waist as well.

you hook your ankle over hers, shimmying till you’re hip to hip, your bodies arched into each other, bend for bend. she bites down on her lip, if only to stop it from quivering. you graze your hand up her arm to rest on her cheek.

“you know you’re always welcome here.”

vi laughs, the sound strangely watery as she blinks away the hot prickle biting up the back of her throat. it’s been so long since she’s had anywhere to come back to. and here you are, offering it up to her on a gold-gilded platter.

“yeah?” she says, even though her voice shakes and she has to swallow hard over the lump in her throat as she coaxes your chin up, angling your lips towards hers, “careful… i might actually take you up on that.”

“whatever’s mine is —” your breath hitches high as vi tugs you into her, crushing your lips to hers, a thick groan working it’s way through her chest. you taste salt on your tongue, even as she trails her mouth along your jawline to suck a dark, blossoming hickey into the side of your throat.

“— yours.” you finish, spearing your fingers through her hair to pull her back, your eyes soft in the gathering darkness. vi lets out a tiny, pitched whine as she buries her face in your chest, her body curling in on itself. you rock her against you, letting her grapple her fingers into your nightshirt, clutching you to her even as you sooth your palms over her head and neck, shushing her gently.

“fuck, princess…” she says, her voice slightly muffled, “you’re tryna spoil me rotten, huh.”

you smile, letting her pull back just far enough to catch a glimpse of your face.

“well, someone’s gotta do it.”

vi chuckles, the sound rumbling from her chest to yours.

“yeah well… i’m glad you’re the one angling for the job, sweets.”

you hum, letting your eyes fall shut as vi’s grip on you loosens, and the pair of you sink into the liquid warmth of each others bodies.

vi shifts, tucking you deeper into her arms as you content yourself with sighing into her skin, and it’s an almost automatic spin-click of both your bodies, your limbs settling into and against each other, your torsos turning to just the right spot, just the right angles to fit against one another.

you settle, and feel the world settle around you — time itself seems to breathe and slacken, the evening-shaped seconds and minutes ticking each into its own place, like the teeth on a set of cogs, catching one rung into another, spinning one after the other till everything starts to hum into place.

sleep slips its gossamer gauze over your eyes and vi shifts, her lips ghosting your forehead.

“whatever gods up there that put you in my life…” she whispers, her voice tight, you make a soft noise, like a question, or perhaps a confirmation, leaning up to level your faces once more. your eyes open and vi finds her own reflection staring back at her, the shape somehow softened by your gaze, and she wonders, not for the first time, what you see in her, what you’ve always seen in her, that makes you so…

“there’s already a shrine set up for them in the living room,” you murmur, and for a second, vi stares, her own mind quiet for the first time in a long while. you smile sleepily at her confusion, nuzzling her nose with yours, “what, you didn’t know? i’d been thanking them for you since the first day we met.”

vi makes a sound like a hiccup, shaking her head as warmth bubbles through her, a champagne-colored shake-fizzle-pop of emotions welling up behind her eyes, making her head spin.

“well shit —” she grins, tugging you ever closer, “you’re always one step ahead of me, aren’t you princess?”

you hum, carding your fingers through her hair as she settles against you once more.

“mhm,” a tired little yawn, “and maybe tomorrow morning, if you’re feeling up to it —”

“yeah?” vi’s voice is soft, is sweet, is almost reverent as she kisses the skin of your sternum, her lips lingering right beneath your collarbones.

“i could show you some of the other things i picked up at the brothel.”

vi groans, her fingers digging into your hips at the tantalizing thought.

“mm, you mean other than giving people amazing shoulder massages?”

you laugh, and outside, a large neon sign flickers off, tossing the room into a deeper, richer dark.

“yep. but for now…”

“sleep?” vi asks.

you nod, watching as her eyelids flutter shut, and you let yours do the same. your fingers find hers beneath the blankets; your palms press and she gives you a tiny squeeze. you squeeze back and smile.

“sleep.”

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appalachiancowboy99 · 5 months ago

Text

After Dark

Arthur Morgan x CurvyFem!Reader Established relationship, high honor, grumpy Arthur in desperate need of release, 18+, MDNI (Minors DO NOT ENTER)

Arthur comes back to camp later than usual, with nothing but a bad disposition and a desperate need to release his pent-up frustrations.

Warnings: longer read, sexual content (oral, unprotected p in v, rough sex), mentions of violence, mentions of anger, and dabbles in sensual fluff.

Gif by: @sunwingsunset

A/N: Thank you so much to @photo1030 for not only being my sounding board in the never-ending chaos that is my writing process but also for being such a wonderful friend through it all. So grateful for you, don't know what I'd do without ya, C! <3 Thank you so much to @rivetingrosie4 for being an inspiration for my little works and being so supportive of my creative endeavors, not to mention the kind generosity of your friendship! Forever grateful for to have met you! @tortureddpoett I'm so excited to explore this budding friendship with you! Thank you so much for showing so much excitement for my work, IT MAKES ME EXCITED (EEP!). It means an absolute ton to me <3 @mr-inkslinger your friendship has been an absolute delight to explore! Thank you for posting that toe-curling smut that always has me giggling and kicking my feet! So happy to have met ya! And thank each and every single one of you for liking my first drabble and expressing interest in this next one. I'm so sorry it's taken me forever to publish this post, but hopefully, the next ones won't take me as long. I'll forever be grateful for your patience and kindness <3 But now, enough of my babbling, y'all enjoy yourselves with this one- I know I did ;)

Fuck. From the second he opened his eyes, he knew that the day was going to be fucking awful; his neck had a crick in it, his head was pounding from what little sleep he’s received over the last few nights, and now he had to trudge back out into the goddamn muggy heat to work. One disaster after another had piled up; everything that could have gone wrong, went so terribly awry that he wound up farther away from camp than he originally intended and managed to add a solid fifteen-dollar bounty to the mounting collection resting atop his head. Dutch had sent him out on a wild goose chase, following a lead from Micah that, of course, ended up being a complete waste of time. And that meant he was coming back to camp empty-handed, which almost certainly meant he'd be on the receiving end of another one of Dutch's lectures on the endless responsibilities placed upon his shoulders. He dreaded it, wanted to avoid spiraling down another conversation that would end in Dutch questioning his faith in the ever-evolving plan he’s found himself working on these days.

As if he needed any of that horseshit tonight. All he wanted was a moment of peace and quiet, a chance to catch his breath after the disaster of a day he'd just had, but instead, he was headed back to camp with nothing but bruises, a bloody lip, and a bad disposition to show for his efforts. Trees and other bits of scenery whipped by in a blur as Arthur spurred his horse onward, his surroundings melting together into a muddy mess of shapes cast by moonlight. He passed through New Hanover, his furious pace leading him down the familiar roads of Lemoyne, reaching the clearing outside of camp. Lenny and John are the first to spot Arthur approaching the thicket of trees disguising Clemens Point's main entrance. “Hey, who goes there?” Lenny’s voice echoes through the forest, bouncing off the thicket until it reaches Arthur’s ears.

“‘S me.” Arthur grunts out through gritted teeth, clearly not in the mood for any chit-chat. Even underneath the shadow of leaves and limbs, the scowl etched upon his face is easily distinguishable, a clear sign for anyone with any common sense to give him a wide berth for the rest of the night. Lenny and John, both, had a pretty good idea of what might happen when Arthur steps foot into camp and they don't want any part of it. As a result, they give each other a little knowing glance and stay in the treeline, preferring to avoid the impending shitstorm and let Dutch or Hosea deal with it instead. He strides past them in a fit of frustration, dismounting his mare with a jerky movement before she's even come to a complete stop. Kieran spots him and hesitantly approaches. That poor fool. "H-Hey, Mr. Morgan. Would ya like me to unsaddle the 'ol gal here?" Kieran's question was nothing more than an innocent query, but his expression turned the young man into a nervous wreck. If looks could kill, Arthur’s certainly could; his steely eyes are set ablaze with annoyance and irritation as he casts a hateful glance in Kieran's direction. Even Kieran knew better than to talk to Arthur when he was in this state, knowing that it would only lead to suffering at the hands of his unbridled wrath. Kieran’s eyes immediately darted to his feet, desperate to avoid Arthur’s icy gaze as his fingers trembled with the frayed ends of rope in his hands. Quickly as to not start any trouble for himself, Kieran took hold of the mare's reigns and led her away to the field of horses, putting as much distance between himself and Arthur as he could. A slight pang of guilt runs through him when he sees the way that Kieran high-tailed it out of his line of sight. He doesn't want to be harsh to the boy, he's been a useful asset to the gang, but his temper is just too far gone for him to muster up an apology. As fast as the angering thoughts snapping through his mind, Arthur turns on his heels and storms into camp in search of Dutch. His boots furiously hit the grass and reddened Lemoyne dirt as he passes by a few of the wandering eyes from those still awake at this late hour. Charles casts him a wary glance, and so does Sadie, but neither of them cares to look long enough to entertain what's about to happen. He passes by his own wagon and heads straight to Dutch's tent. Dutch is nowhere to be seen, yet the lamp light inside casts its soft golden glow upon the closed canvas flaps of the tent, indicating that he might be inside. Not wasting any more time than he has to, Arthur approaches the tent, not bothering to stop and think until it's too late. His hand raises, readying to peel back the canvas flap, when all of a sudden he hears the sweet amorous sounds of lovemaking echo through the night air. Molly’s sweet voice gasps out between each movement of their squeaking cot, calling out for Dutch as the unmistakable sound of skin slapping skin penetrates through the thin canvas walls, revealing exactly what’s occupying Dutch’s time tonight.

“Oh, Dutch. Don’t stop,” she encourages through strained, unabashed moans of pleasure. Dutch’s deep, husky voice murmurs back something unintelligible, but the increased squeaking of their bed and the filthy little noises coming from Molly are a clear indicator that Arthur should be stepping away to give them some privacy. Embarrassment washes over him, causing a faint rosy flush to heat his face and bloom across his cheeks. For once, he's grateful for the distraction from his current frustration. On most nights, he'd find comfort in your presence, seeking you out to vent his grievances as a distraction from the ever-present aggravation that seemingly follows him around these days. But tonight, he just wants to retreat to his tent, away from everything and everyone, to try to calm down before he says or does something he regrets.

He strides past the dying campfires and tables that are askew from daily camp activities, and his mind tirelessly races from thought to thought, stealing his attention away from his surroundings. If Arthur had even bothered to look, he would have spotted your sleeping form laid out upon his bed the moment he stepped inside. You had been waiting for him all evening. After working yourself to the bone doing laundry, dinner prep, and other camp chores for Ms. Grimshaw all day long, you wandered your way over to Arthur’s tent in search of a quiet place to sit. Part of you wished to find him seated right there on his cot, wanting to simply have a conversation with the man who has stolen your heart, but to your disappointment, he wasn’t anywhere to be found. So, you waited for him.. And waited until the very idea of waiting became too tiresome and you unknowingly fell asleep.

Sneaking away from the gang for private talks with him has been one of your favorite things to do since you joined the gang so long ago. Y'all have always had a knack for avoiding the company of others. But somehow in the midst of squirreling yourselves away, both of you have come to find that you'd prefer being alone together. Eventually, this led to many nights where Arthur would seek you out just to speak his mind, allowing you to see the world through his eyes for a short while. You have not only embraced Arthur's thoughts, but in doing so, you have captured his heart all the same. If it weren't for you, he's certain he'd have lost his damn sanity long ago.

Arthur takes that dusty old gambler's hat off his head and runs his fingers through his hair, taking a moment to calm himself down. His eyes glance over the things laid out upon his bedside table before catching a glimpse of your figure awash by the pale moonlight in his periphery. Your hair is sprawled out over the small blanket you've rolled up into a makeshift pillow; curls flowing like a roaring waterfall, laying a mess, and finally free from the bun that was atop your head earlier in the day. His eyes rake over your voluptuous figure, noting every dip and curve from your plump waist and hips to the ample swell of your breast hidden by a layer of clothing. The moment his mind registers that your presence isn't a dream, his eyes soften and his mind no longer races with anger. You are his peace, the only thing in this world that he cherishes above all else.

Sighing softly, he finally discards his hat from his hand and places it onto his nightstand before working off his worn leather jacket and satchel, resting them on the back of the chair nearest his shaving mirror. And while he's on his feet, he takes the time to carefully roll down the canvas walls of his tent, unraveling them with the quiet precision of a mouse, and securing them in a few simple knots to hide you two away from the world.

It's quite dark by the time he wanders over to the cot, dark enough not to notice himself brush against your legs as he takes a seat on the edge of the old creaking bed. The familiar, welcomed-warmth of his body pressing against your shins rouses you from your restful slumber. Your eyes flutter open to find his figure perched next to you, shrouded in a darkness so thick that you are sure you're still dreaming. His head and broad shoulders are slumped over as he begins working off his dusty boots, caked with remnants of mud and manure.

"Hmm... Arthur?" Your voice floats through the quiet darkness, laden with fatigue and clearly carrying the lassitude of someone who could fall back asleep at the drop of a hat.

He quickly glances over his shoulder at the sound of your voice, his eyes already adjusted enough to the shadows to see your tired face staring back at him with confusion. He silently curses himself for waking you. "Shhh, Darlin'. Don't wake up on my account. I'll be done in just a minute," Arthur lightly grunts out the last word as he struggles to remove his right boot.

Even in your own weary state, the exhaustion in his tone isn't lost on you. Thinking it best to rouse yourself as quickly as possible to free up his bed for him, you sit yourself up and will yourself awake with a slight stretch. "'S okay. You need rest more 'n me."

"No. You was restin' 'fore I got here. Go 'head and lay back down." He isn't having any of your courtesy tonight. He's worn out, far too tired to argue with you about whether or not it's appropriate for you to share his bed for the night.

The rest of the gang, aside from John, Abigail, Susan, and Hosea know nothing about the true nature of y'all's relationship. Although, the rest of the girls have picked up on the changes you've brought about in Arthur since your arrival so long ago now. Seeing him get all soft and doey-eyed at you over these last few weeks has most definitely tipped them off about what y'all really get up to when you're out running errands together. But they catch wind of you sleeping in his tent tonight, it will all but confirm their suspicions. And yet, you just can't bring yourself to move from the comfort of Arthur's cot with him sitting so close to you.

"What time is it?" The question falls from your lips, carried on the soft currents of a gentle breeze pushing through the tent flaps. Fine sinewy muscles flex beneath his shirt as he leans over to work off his other boot and you are powerless to admire the shape of his body beneath.

A muffled grunt escapes his mouth the moment he finally frees his aching feet from the confines of his boots, "Late," he simply replies.

You take a deep, cleansing breath, allowing the tranquility of the night to settle around you like a soft, comforting blanket. Outside these walls, no sounds of chatter or lively activity can be heard, aside from the gentle hum of crickets by the riverbank and the faint sounds of a squeaking cot stopping abruptly. The gang is unusually quiet, the air filled with repose now that Arthur's returned safely to you. Only a few stragglers tend to the campfires, their focus solely on themselves, interested in anything beyond the flickering flames; not even the sounds of Dutch and Molly or Arthur's irritation can disrupt the peaceful bubble encompassing Clemen's Point tonight.

The plush heel of your palm rubs over one of your eyes as you flit them toward the tent entrance, watching how the wind slightly ruffles the bottom of the canvas. It's only then that you realize that Arthur has tied down the walls for privacy on your account. Normally, he wouldn't bother setting up the walls before collapsing on the cot for a few restless hours of sleep. But tonight, he's gone out of his way to ensure your comfort. Your heart couldn't feel any more full of love for this man by your side, a man who puts your well-being above all else, even above his own. Never did you think that love would have been like this for you: sitting in the comfortable silence of privacy for lovers when that luxury is rarely afforded for women like you. But despite your gratitude for his thoughtfulness, a pang of guilt gnaws at you knowing he made the extra effort while you took up residence in his bed, a cot that's barely big enough for the two of you given your plump frame.

In an attempt to make up for taking up so much space, you roll yourself forward along the thin mattress and quickly slide past him, crawling toward the foot of his bed where his trunk of clothing is kept. You've decided to give him his space for the night, even though in your heart, you'd prefer to stay. Before your foot even slides off the trunk to touch the soft grass below, you're reminded of John stopping by Arthur's tent earlier in the day.

Through a half yawn, you speak, not giving Arthur the chance to catch-on to where you're headed, "'Fore I forget: John stopped by while you was out."

Arthur slightly leans back as his fingertips mindlessly fumble with the buckle of his gun belt. The slight clicking of the metal rings out as he works to remove the clunky accessory from his body. His strong back brushes against you as he moves with the comfortable ease he's come to enjoy over these last few weeks of secretly being yours.

"What about it?" His concentration is split half between himself and the presence of your body behind him.

Your words don't register in his mind until he's completely removed the belt from his body. He figures it was that stagecoach job he reluctantly handed off to John; it had completely slipped from his mind until this very moment, much like yourself. The cool metal filigree atop his trunk moves under your feet as you rest them just shy of slipping off its edge, causing the hazy memory to play out behind your tired eyes.

You were just settling yourself in, resting your weary body on the edge of Arthur's cot, just as you're doing now. Little beads of sweat accumulated on your forehead from working out in the intensity of Lemoyne's miserably humid heat. Grimshaw had you and the rest of the women working on camp chores, which you hadn't complained of, since it usually occupies the time until Arthur's usual return. However, the day was far too hot for you to not complain about the harsh conditions she had y'all in. Eventually, evening came and you were finally finished with the laundry, allowing you a moment's rest to seek out the comfort of Arthur's cot.

In the midst of wiping your brow down with one of his neckerchiefs you'd secretly swiped, the hard thump of boots hitting grass caught your attention. You'd anticipated Arthur's arrival, but something didn't feel quite right. The boots didn't move with Arthur's measured stride; they scuffed the grass and dirt, signaling a different, but familiar presence. The moment you look up, you spot John standing at the entrance of the tent, not at all surprised to see you sitting upon his cot as if it were your own.

For a brief moment, his brow furrowed in a mix of frustration and exhaustion. It was as if he was caught between the two warring emotions, each pulling him equally. Clearly, he expected Arthur to be back already.

"He not back yet?" The gruffness of his voice has you believe the former, rather than the latter.

"Not yet," you say in kind, hoping to ease some of his burden. "Was you needin' him for somethin'?"

John did and the news certainly wasn't going to sit well with Arthur at all.

When the thoughts finally coalesce within your fatigued mind, you internally grimace knowing that Arthur isn't going to like the reality of the situation. Gentleness has always been your strong suit, especially when it came to dealing with half of the bull-headed men in camp. So, you lace your words with the softest tone you can manage, "Said it weren't as much as y'all had planned on: about fifty-dollars tied up in what little him 'n Charles found."

And you were right. The news doesn't sit well with him at all. All of the compiled frustration of working a nothing-lead and now knowing that the other job didn't pay well either boils beneath the surface of his skin until he explodes like a whistling kettle. Preventing himself from lashing out at you, Arthur kicks his boot toward the other side of the tent, knocking it into the chair. The loud thunk of its sole hitting wood claps harshly and causes you to flinch, startling you fully awake from the suddenness of noise and his movement.

"Every goddamn day it's some shit," he spits through his teeth.

Although you know he'd never intentionally hurt you, the anger in his voice sends a cold shiver down your spine and your stomach flips and churns in knots. Usually, you'd blame yourself, reprimanding your big mouth for even opening up to mention something that you knew wouldn't bode well for his weary mind. But you're in too much of a shock to even consider self-deprecation as an option. Your wide eyes search through the darkness, watching the shadowed outline of the man you love heave in a deep breath to steal his nerves. His shoulders slump forward and head hangs low as he rests his elbows on his knees, utterly defeated from the compiled anger and exhaustion coursing through him.

It's at this moment that you remember the job Dutch sent him on earlier in the day; Arthur didn't want to go and had very little sleep after working on yet another lead that barely got them anywhere. If it had been left up to you, you would've made Arthur stay right here in this bed to get some rest like he deserves. You would've taken care of him so tenderly, but, as usual, what Dutch wanted would have far outweighed any of your concerns. You've learned to recognize the pattern of these situations by now, and given Arthur's aggression, assuming that today's job didn't go quite as planned would be hitting the nail right on its head. You test the waters with a quiet question, "Lead didn't pan out today, did it?"

The soft shake of Arthur's head, coupled with the shadow of his palm running over his face tells you all that you need to know: no, it hadn't gotten him any farther than where he had started. Another useless effort. Your heart aches watching him struggle with so much weight on his shoulders. No matter how strong Arthur might be, he's just a man struggling to carry his own burdens, let alone everyone else's. Ever since settling down here, Dutch has placed so much responsibility on him that you've wanted to scold the man for even mentioning Arthur's name in passing. He's worked himself thin and thread-bare, barely having any time for himself outside of the time he spends on the road traveling from place to place at Dutch's convenience.

Empathy for the man that you've fallen in love with so long ago breaks your heart, aching in desperation to relieve some of his pain. Instead of walking away, keeping to yourself, and silently shouldering any of the blame for setting him off, you choose to stay the night. Despite knowing full well that the girls will have their gossip circulating by morning, Arthur's needs are far more important than any snickering comment or playful jest that'll inevitably come your way.

You scoot back where you were and lean toward him with less apprehension than what your words had suggested. Resting your delicate palm between the broad expanse of his shoulders, you feel him tense at the soft slip of your tender touch over his shirt. The tips of your fingers glide over his shoulder and silently take purchase on the taut muscle there. With a gentle, yet firm pull, you coax Arthur back toward you.

"C'mere. Lean back 'n talk to me..." Your dulcet tone pierces through his irritation, encouraging him to rest in your awaiting arms.

Arthur slowly reclines back, allowing himself to unwind in your embrace as his much larger body sits snugly against your plump bosom. Relaxing doesn't come easy for him. Hell, you'd be surprised if it had, given the high tensions between him and Micah these days or the tiresome back and forth between the two rival families in Rhodes. He has every right to be terse and tensed up like a snake ready to strike, but you aim to comfort him even if that means you risk getting bit. Silence hangs in the air between you, aside from the gentle breaths and the occasional strained grunt catching in the back of his throat while he struggles to get comfortable against you, due to the remaining stress insisting on clinging to his tired body. Your loving hands splay out over the firm expanse of his chest, feeling the steady and reassuring thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palms as you try your best to soothe your brooding lover. It's as if your mere presence cracks away at the anger lingering in the stiff tendons and taut plains of muscle along his torso until he relents and finally lets go. His body relaxes back into you as if he were sinking into the plush, luxurious drapery and bedding found in the finest hotels of Saint Denis; much like the bedding of the room he'd paid for the very same night he had whisked you away to bed you properly for your very first time.

He's silent for a long while, almost reluctant to burden you with his troubles. So, you take it up on yourself to start the conversation by spilling what had happened to you earlier in the day, thinking it might earn a laugh or two, "Well, I'm sure my day weren't as rough as your'n," you hum. "But I did fall off the dock, landing my hind-end right in that water."

The image would usually cause a humorous snort to escape him, but the irritation still bristling at his nerves prevents him from reacting with anything else other than a huff of annoyance, "I told ya to watch your footin' out there. Ain't no use to nobody if you get yourself drowned."

Fortunately, as he chides you his words begin to lack much of the anger from moments ago. But you sigh softly anyways, relenting to his incessant need to protect you from life's dangers, despite being able to handle your own, "I know, I know..."

With a few buttons of that old blue work shirt popped open by your deft fingers, the smallest opening there is just big enough to slip your hand inside and rest it up on the soft but wiry hairs at the very center of his chest. "You shoulda seen me, though," you murmur as you lean down toward his ear, lowering your tone as you press your cheek to the side of his head. "Was drenched head to toe, clothes clingin' to me like feathers on a wet chicken."

He sulks, trying to stay mad at anything and everything he can to give into the bristling anger at the back of his mind, but he can't. No, not when he can clearly envision you all soaked and surprised from falling into that cold lake. A faint smile curls up the corners of his lips and then, just as he almost chuckles, he clears his throat, holding his laugh back. However, you catch on far too quickly for him to play it off so easily.

You gasp softly in mock surprise as if offended by the idea of him laughing at you, "Arthur Morgan. Are you laughin' at me?"

That's when his temperament breaks, giving way to the huff of laughter rumbling through his chest. "I ain't laughin' atchu, per say..." he counters. "Just maybe at the thought of what ya mighta looked like comin' up outta that water: madder 'n hell, hair clingin' to your head," and as if to illustrate his point, Arthur reaches his hand backward and turns his head to try and catch a glimpse of you in the thick shadows, barely making your face distinguishable to his eyes, as he brushes his fingertips over the bits of hair clinging to your forehead from the muggy heat.

Though you narrow your eyes in mock annoyance, you lean into his calloused fingertips, accepting the gentleness of his touch while a giggle of your own creeps up into your throat, "Oh? Is 'at so? Maybe next time I find you out on that dock, I'll think 'bout pushin' ya in 'n lettin' you see how it feels."

He huffs out a skeptical breath and raises an eyebrow at the very thought of you even trying something like that with him. It'd be a futile effort and one that you truly wouldn't consider without the clear consequence of him pulling you right down with him.

And just as soon as the laughter came, it was gone again, replaced instead with a comfortable silence that settles between you two once more, giving him some space to think about what's happened to himself today. Long before the days of your arrival, Arthur would keep to himself and dwell on the ever-present burdens troubling his mind, brooding for hours. But with you, he feels a safety that men like him are rarely afforded.

"Well, if ya think fallin' in Flat Iron's bad..." he continues, "Try goin' halfway 'cross the state lookin' for a man that don't exist. Then when ya find someplace to get a drink, ya end up catchin' a few stray hits from some drunken bastard."

A soft gasp enters your lungs at the revelation. Another fight? You lean over his shoulder, reaching to take his scarred chin into your hand. It's hard to see through the inky-black darkness of the night, but even in the haziness, your eyes can make out the bruising along his jaw, the harsh scrapes of knuckles cutting over his cheek, and the jagged cut on his upper lip. It isn't a rare sight to have him come back battered and bruised by some job from time to time, but that still doesn't quell the uneasiness in your heart at him going through such pain and aggravation.

Your eyebrows furrow in sympathy for your rugged cowboy, eyes softening to match as you breathe out, "Oh, Arthur."

He's quick to dismiss your concern with a soft sigh, pulling away from you to lean forward and distract himself from your sympathetic gaze, "Ah, don'tchu go 'n worry yourself over me none, Darlin'."

Being fussed over or thought of so tenderly still isn't something he's used to; he's shown you that time and time again. But it never deters you from trying to make things better, to make things easier on him however you can. Whatever turmoil Arthur's got rolling about in his mind is far from the usual and it takes patience to understand; a patience that he finds only you can give.

You reach your hand out toward him. The delicate ends of your fingertips reach up to brush over the nape of his sun-kissed neck, grazing over the ends of his slightly overgrown hair, silently making a note to yourself that you'll trim it for him tomorrow. His body shuffles slightly backward, leaning in to accept your touch while he slips off his suspenders: pulling them down his shoulders heavy with burden, before taking his time to unbutton that tattered old work shirt you're so used to seeing around his muscular frame.

"'Sides..." he starts. "I did have some good that came from today."

"What's 'at?" you hum softly with a lilt of dryness. "Hittin' that feller back?"

He can't help the chuckle rising in his throat at the dry sarcasm touching your words. Arthur shakes his head softly, "Nah, Darlin', " the last word strains from his lips as he rises to his feet with a groan, leaving the safe comfort of your touch as he stands to undo his pants.

He glances over his shoulder, peering down at you through the darkness with a smirk curling up at the right corner of his mouth. Watching as your sweet eyes follow his every movement, Arthur turns to face you, allowing you to gaze at him as he slowly pushes the brass button through the eyelet at the top of his riding pants. The fabric opens effortlessly, revealing the red cloth of his union suit underneath. The sight of him before you, suspenders hanging loosely on either side of his long legs and his pants aching to be peeled from his strong form has your lips parted in awe at the man standing mere inches away from you.

He continues from just seconds before, "Seein' you laid out on my bed, purdy as a dream."

After stepping out of his pants now crumpled around his ankles, Arthur lowers one knee upon the cot nearest your thighs. He leans over you, using his thick fingers to tilt your chin upward, meeting his crystalline eyes. "Was one helluva sight I could get used to seein'."

The low timbre of his voice sends a shockwave of desire straight through your heart and into the aching pit of your stomach. Your lips draw up into a shy smile, and a faint dusting of pink envelops your cheeks just like the moment you'd first professed your feelings for him under that canopy of trees he led you through so blindly. Although it hasn't been long since that fateful night, the closeness of your relationship has escalated so quickly that your head and heart dizzy at the mere mention of his name.

Arthur's calloused thumb brushes over the supple swell of your bottom lip, enticing you to part them just for him. You comply, of course, unable to resist how a ghost of his touch makes you so pliant beneath him. And when he leans down to meet your lips with his own, your heart swells with tender affection. Those warm, slightly chapped, but pleasantly plush lips are heady as they connect with a passion that stokes the burning coals of desire in the very base of your core.

"Been waitin' to use that one for a while, hmm?" You hum contently while blindly guiding your hands toward the flare of muscle encasing his ribs. God, how you could worship this man and never tire of feeling how warm, how strong he is beneath your palms.

"Depends. It workin'?" He murmurs, smirking cockily against your lips.

Your mind begins to spin as the calloused pad of his thumb dips from your chin and swipes over your jawline. His fingers splay out over the side of your neck, fingertips gripping you with tender passion to hold you in place. He could easily break you, bend you with his finger and thumb as if you were nothing more than a twig beneath his rough and weathered hands. Never have you felt so small and fragile, always knowing in your heart that you took up much more room than other women. But, when you're with Arthur, he makes you feel as delicate as the petals on a beautiful flower, something so precious and worth loving; it's so much more than you'd ever experienced in your whole life. He touches you so tenderly as if you were made from nothing more than ash, a veritable pile of matter waiting to slip through his fingers at any moment.

You want to hum your praises to your lover, to let him know exactly how much you've wanted this, how much you've missed him, how well he's kissing you, touching you... But you can't. There are no words. He's stolen them from you, drawing all the air out of your lungs with his lips, leaving you gasping for the air coated in his divine masculine scent: sweet tobacco, wood ash, and mossy earth. He encompasses you, wrapping one arm around your waist as he pulls you close to his body, all the while shuffling himself forward to join you on the small cot. Your back presses against the hard wooden frame of the wagon making up the other half of his tent. He presses against you, holding you close to his strong body as he slides his right hand from your jaw, trailing it down over the soft skin of your neck, and down to your chest, where he heatedly palms your breast hidden just beneath your blouse. To have him touch you like this, like a man frenzied and dying for a taste of intimacy, has your head spinning and your heart on the verge of exploding if it hadn't already; for all you know, you could've died the moment his lips crashed into yours, and all that's left is a heaven you'd only dreamt of.

A low growl of appreciation rumbles through his chest for the plumpness of your body. Most men do not know the fine pleasures that extra curves on a woman can bring. But Arthur sure does. And oh how he worships your full figure, despite your opinions about yourself. His large, calloused palm shifts his attention to your other breast, kneading you tenderly while his lips work from your mouth, and instead, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses over your jawline and supple neck.

His name is a breathless sigh across your trembling lips as you allow your hands to explore his body in return. Touching over the large expanse of his torso and gliding your fingertips over the worn fabric of his union suit, you desperately search for the button that would bare him wholly to you. In the time it takes you to undo one of his buttons, his skilled fingers undo two of yours. Button after button unthreads upon both of your bodies, though his hands are much quicker at ridding you of your layers, leaving them strewn about on the ground until he's stripped you down and laid you beneath him in nothing more than your chemise and bloomers to conceal your decency. Arthur then crawls over you, his movements deliberate and enticingly slow as he cages you in with his hands pressed into the thin mattress on either side of your head. Shadows danced and shifted restlessly, playing tricks on your perception as you try to focus on what little of Arthur you could see through the haziness, making the absence of light feel alive. To feel him above you like this has your stomach in knots, tightening with a firey passion that's ready to snap at any given moment. Hearts are pounding, thrumming wildly against your ribcages like birds desperate to escape the confines of your chests. You hear it, hear how his breath shutters with each wild thump of his heart, and you feel it in his breath as it puffs over your cheek. He's losing himself to you and you him, slipping so quickly that rational thinking is no longer of use. You need him and he needs you.

The flaps of his union suit hang loosely from his body, allowing your hands to reach in and press flat over his heated skin. He shivers slightly at the contact, his muscles tensing and flexing beneath the tender meeting of your palms placed upon his scarred, goose-pimpled flesh. Your fingertips ghost over a scar on the right side of his ribcage, causing your face to crinkle with sorrow for what hardship your lover, this great outlaw, has had to endure in his lifetime. The damaged tissue is the result of a nasty fight he had as a young man: when someone stabbed him with the broken end of a beer bottle; they had aimed to kill him, but he had survived. The spot still aches with the memory of Hosea digging out the shards of broken glass from the angry, bloodied wound. But somehow, the way your delicate touch brushes over that old scar with such love and care causes the outlaw's skin to tingle, and his cock to ache with the pride of knowing that you love him so.

He takes his time with you here, laid out beneath him like a perfect little thing he's captured and kept safe by hiding you away in the privacy of his tent. After the day he's had, he wants to savor every bit of loveliness he's blessed with in your presence, so he can't rush this with you, not now. Arthur takes his time admiring you, letting his eyes rake over what he's able to see, and feeling what he cannot. Leaning down close enough to your face to capture that seductive glint in your glittering, lust-blown eyes, Arthur searches for any change within them as he maneuvers his right hand away from the mattress to trail along your sensitive flesh. The rough pads of his fingers ghost over your thigh, caressing the plump deposit of flesh along your middle, snaking up over your collarbones, and over your neck in search of your delicate face before sealing your mouth with his own in a kiss so tender you whimper from the initial contact.

Shivers of anticipation roll through him as your body responds to his touch: back arching off the bed, hands pulling on the nape of his neck to hold him down and assure that his lips won't leave yours, and the way your bloomer-clad hips roll upward in search of some much-needed friction. God how he could spend hours with you like this, letting his hands roam over your body to make you shiver and plead for any ounce of affection that he can give you. Your needy state is only exacerbated by the slight tremble in your thighs as he snakes his hands down over the pillowy flesh, seeking out the waistband of your bloomers. Ridding you of the cloth separating your pussy from his line of sight is an easy feat: the clad, slightly damp undergarment peels away from your plump hips with ease at the help of his precision; the Lemoyne heat causes the clothing to stick to your slightly dampened skin, but dammit if the temperature pales in comparison to how heated Arthur makes you feel. He tosses them down onto the ground, and places his hands upon your knees, spreading them apart as he sits above you to admire the feeling of your plump body beneath him.

His hand is unhurried and exacting, gently brushing his calloused knuckles down over your inner thigh, then lightly petting them over your soaked need covered by a soft thatch of hair. He can't see you fully, but that does nothing to stop his mind from envisioning how your cunt glistens with slick, all for him. The moment he presses his fingertips to your seam, parting you with the practiced precision of a lover, he lets a low, ragged breath escape his nose in appreciation for how wet you are. You shiver and instinctively try to close your knees from the pleasant surprise of his touch, and fuck does it feel good to have him brush over your folds like that.

"Always so ready, ain'tchya?" He murmurs, a teasing lilt to his voice as he takes his time in savoring the feeling of your slick upon his fingertips.

Your hips involuntarily twitch, bucking upward into his hand, seeking out his fingertips to make him swirl them over your aching little clit. You want him to touch you right where you need him, feel him right on that little spot upon that nub of nerves that makes your mind swirl and your body careen into a blissful orgasm. But he doesn't give that to you, not yet. He wants to work you over slowly, savoring every little sound he can draw out of those pretty lips. You're far too shy to answer him directly, instead favoring to cover your face with your forearms as he takes pleasure in taunting you like this. But the moment his fingertips threaten to part your folds, you let out a delicate little noise, someplace between a whine and a prayer to let him know that you're in no mood to endure his teasing tonight, "Arthur... Please."

Oh, how he loves to hear the sound of you begging; he's already half-hard at the idea of you wanting his touch, let alone hearing how desperate you are for it. He answers your prayer with a long, smooth stroke of his thumb parting your puffy, wet folds. You keen at how just a simple touch causes your stomach to flutter and your slit to clench around nothing at all. Your thighs, thick with strength, covered by a layer of squishy softness, part for him, relaxing lazily as he guides his thumb over each of your labia.

It was nearly impossible to get you to lay like this for him a few weeks ago; you'd been concerned about the unsightly appearance of your inner thighs: scarred over with dimples and imperfections, as well as the slight discoloration of having them rub together after so many years of being a larger woman. Most women that you've seen naked, don't have the same ailments upon their bodies as you have on yours. Just the other day when bathing with some of the girls in the lake, you'd noticed that even on Karen's body, a woman closer to your size, still didn't have the scars or discoloration across her skin in the same way that you have. And that night that Arthur had you laid out for him for the very first time, he'd noticed that apprehension in you, taking it as having second thoughts. But once you had explained how you felt about your own body, he hadn't even given the idea a single thought; his own body is mauled up, covered in old and ugly scars, and carrying more than three colors from all his time spent out in the sun. So, he couldn't have cared less about some scars, a little extra hair, weight, or even the discoloration over your thighs. What he did care about, however, was making sure that you felt loved in spite of it all. And now, it feels no different. To have you spread your legs for him like this, without a single worry holding you back, is a goddamn treat.

Fuck how good it feels to have the soft press of his thumb tease over your cunt, tracing the delicate path between your weeping entrance, to your swelling bud with a pressure so teasing and light that you squirm to feel more. Your plush lips tuck between your teeth to hold back any sounds that give away what you two are doing in here after dark, but it's useless; the lewd sounds of his thumb circling over your clit echo throughout the tent: a dead giveaway to anyone that dare walk by. Holding your breath like this isn't easy, not when the pounding of your heart echoes in your ears and your chest feels as if it's being seared from the inside out. A ragged gasp finally inhales through your nostrils, desperately trying to fulfill your body's need for air when you can no longer restrain your breaths.

He huffs out a low chuckle in amusement at the state he has you in: clearly desperate and in need to have your clit rubbed just the way you like it.

"Hmm.. Hear that?" He rasps out before going silent, letting you hear the sounds of your own slick being spread over your soaked cunt. He only continues when he finally reaches your clit, circling over the throbbing little nerve-ending to make you sigh out in pleasure for him. "So goddamn wet. All for me."

In a blur of movements, Arthur's chapped lips and teeth skim over your knee, slowly working their way down over your inner thighs. He nips at you, earning a few little squeaks and giggles until he kisses over your plump mound. His thumbs take hold of either side of your cunt, spreading you open to let the night air hit your wet skin. It's pleasant like this, to feel yourself spread out beneath him like a meal ready to be devoured and dammit if he ain't starved for a taste. Being eaten out has quickly become one of your favorite acts of intimacy in recent weeks; his tongue is so skilled at finding spots on you, making you come so deliciously, that most days it's all you've been able to think about. Hell, it's all you're thinking about now as his head sinks down to your core and his hot breath fans out over your aching need. His tongue slips out of that perfect mouth and flattens out over your seam, lapping at you once to earn him that little sigh of pleasure escaping your throat.

Your hands immediately seek out his head, combing through his slightly sweat-dampened hair as he swirls the blunt tip of his tongue over your clit.

"A-Agh, Arthur.. N-Not so fast," you whine out in protest, yet your hips bucking up into his mouth says otherwise. But he relents, nonetheless, giving you a moment of reprieve before he delves back in at the same pace.

He's aiming to make you cum quick and hard: slithering his tongue over your clit with the precision of knowing exactly what side and spot makes you writhe beneath him. Just left and then a little upward beneath that little hood of skin and he has you singing for him. Explicitves roll off your tongue one after another in between sweet little sounds that praise him for what effort he's putting in just for you. To hear you, feel you crumble beneath him like this is better than any robbery or score he gets out on the road. But just before he lets you come, he pulls his head back slightly and puffs cool air over your clit, making you whine.

"Shh.. Shh.. 'M gonna let ya cum, Darlin'. Don'tchu worry 'bout that none. 'M gonna take real good care of ya," he hums lowly as his lips and bristly scruff brush over your quivering inner thighs.

His promise isn't far off from fulfillment, not when he sinks his tongue into your heat and presses his opened mouth over the entirety of your cunt. He sucks hard, feeling your walls constrict around the wriggling muscle of his tongue as he laps inside your spongey center. Your thighs tremble with need as he fucks you with his mouth and slurps up your slick, drinking in as much of you as he can and relishing the tangy sweetness of your delectable taste. You throw your head back against the rolled-up blanket you had been using as a pillow earlier in the night, all while he eats you out like a man who's desperate to consume you.

But the aching throb of his cock, constricted by the thin fabric of his union suit, is far too angry for him to ignore. He's got to have you, now.

As he shuffles back up to his knees, leaving your cunt longing to cum on his tongue, you flutter your eyes open and snap your head up to try and catch a glimpse of what he's doing. Clearly, you ain't pleased with him teasing you like this, but when you feel his fervent movements, you realize that he's trying to work off his union suit. He wastes no time it peeling it away from his torso, but the moment he starts to tug it down his thighs, allowing his weeping cock to spring free, he nearly topples over and just about slams head-first into your body. Thankfully, he catches himself in the knick of time, grunting out a few curses as he grows impatient with his incapability to slide that damn fabric off his legs.

Amid his struggle to bare himself, you can't hide the giggle creeping up your throat as he curses under his breath, frustrated with how the fabric insists on clinging to his muscular legs. You help him slide the old red union suit off his body by digging your heels against the back of his thighs and pushing it down the long length of his legs until it reaches his ankles. The undergarment hangs loosely off his feet, causing him to kick it haphazardly off the side of the bed, letting it fall onto his trunk to skirt down on the grass below.

The instant his turgid length brushes over your inner thigh it twitches with the anticipation of feeling your tight, wet walls clamped around him, milking every drop of spend nestled away in his balls; spend that he so desperately wishes he could drain right inside of you. For now, however, just a single brush of your fingertips against him is enough. He has to hold his breath as he guides your delicate palm over his velvety shaft to stroke the needy ache away; if he isn't careful, he'd cum just like this. He hisses, sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth as your fingers wrap around him and your thumb seeks out the weeping slit of his blunt tip. Arthur is, by no means, a small man: his legs are long, torso strong and wide, feet and hands are like bear paws, and his cock.. God, his cock is big. You could use both of your hands to stroke him and still, there'd be enough room for his tip to be entirely untouched. But you make sure as you stroke him with one hand, you pay extra attention to his tip, smearing his drooling precum over as much of him as you can, even down to the dark and wiry curls along his base and balls.

He's trying so hard to hold himself back, but with each tender pass of your thumb over that sweet spot along the underside of his tip, the last remnants of his patience crack away. You feel him crumbling like this, crumbling into a frenzied mess of low-hummed breaths and grunts through gritted teeth, and you fucking love it. Before you can even think about the desire roaring in the cavernous pit of your stomach, aching to be quelled, he smashes his lips into yours so hard that you're sure one of you is bleeding. The pain of his busted lip splitting back open is an angry reminder of the frustration still lingering at the back of his mind; he's as tensed up, pent-up, as a taut rope ready to snap.

With a quick movement, he swats your hand away, preventing you from jacking him into a fast climax. Then, in one swift motion, he grabs hold of your thighs and forcefully yanks you toward him, making the round swell of your plump ass plant firmly against the hard front of his strong body. Your thighs spread out, squishing over and conforming to the contour of his hips, the intimate contact leaving you both ragged and breathless. Your heart drums a frantic rhythm in your ears, drowning out all other thoughts and sensations that belong to you alone. It's as if your mind has descended into a tangled web of strangled noises and glorious sensations that only Arthur seems able to untangle or soothe. The faint outline of his body nestled between your thighs is a constant reminder that nothing beyond this moment, beyond him hidden away with you inside of this tent, matters.

The hard length of his turgid pride parts your folds, gliding over the slick thatch of curls usually concealing your cunt from his eyes, but with his sight hindered, he can explore every single nook, roll, and crevice without you shying away. His weight bares down on you as he holds your legs into the crook of his arms, nearly bending you in half as he drags his cock over your seam. It feels so good like this, even though you can hardly breathe with the thickness of your thighs pressing against your already plump stomach, but when the tip of his cock knocks into your clit, it makes the strained pain well worth it. The back of your hand flies over your mouth as he continues on like this, pleasuring himself and you with each agonizingly slow thrust. Hearing your ragged, strangled half-breaths, he releases your thighs, leaving them to splay out lazily on either side of his hips as he leans down to steal a tender kiss.

Upon breaking his lips away from yours, the low hum of his voice finds its way through the haziness of your lust-broken mind as he murmurs against the shell of your ear, "Gonna take ya just like this..."

Chapped lips skim over your jawline and trail to your lips, where he gives you another tender kiss filled with gentle affection: polar opposite to the rough sex-driven outlaw you've gotten a taste of tonight, but aligning perfectly with the man you fell in love with all those years ago. Scraped knuckles skim against your slick heat as he slips his hand in between you both and presses flat over the thick, dark curls at the base of his throbbing length. His fingers spread wide over his pubic bone, holding his cock between his middle and ring finger, stiffening himself outward to seek out your clenched entrance. With a slight pullback of his hips, he guides himself to your slit, catching right on the taut muscle before pressing forward and splitting you open.

A soft cry hums in the back of your throat and he shushes you so tenderly, sliding his hands over your knees and down your shins to soothe the ache he knows you're feeling. You're so fucking tight, hardly different from the first night he took you and bedded you properly back at the Saint's Hotel. It nearly shatters him when your walls flutter around him, squeezing and pulling him in inch by inch as if you were carved out just for him to sink into. He stills only for a short moment, letting you feel him nestled up against your cervix before he slides himself out and enters you again with a sharp snap of his hips. Lingering anger and frustration from the shit day he's had still pulsates at the back of his mind, desperate to be released as the tension in his body rises.

The tight walls of your cunt clench onto him for dear life as jolts of pleasure and pain rack through your body.

Behind the shield of your palm, you cry out, "A-Agh, Arthur!"

You're trying your best to be quiet, to still your ragged breaths and hide your whimpers, but he's making it incredibly difficult. Each slow drag of his cock coming out of you with a satisfying pop, only to pierce you with a hard roll of his hips, sends you reeling. You're seeing stars, shaking from the pleasurable burn of the passionate fire he's stirring within you. Strong hands grip your hips, keeping you still as his thrusts guide you into a steady rhythm that makes the old wooden frame creak and groan with every subtle and sharp movement that your bodies make. Being discreet has left his mind entirely, no longer concerned with what sounds are coming out of his tent as he fucks you good and proper. No, he couldn't care less when the sounds of your slick pussy squelches as he presses himself flush against you and groans against the pulse point of your neck.

"Don't want ya hidin' them purdy sounds, Darlin'. Let 'em out for me," he grunts out between slow but hard thrusts.

Usually, intimacy like this is savored in the shaking breaths and whispered little sounds only audible to your ears, but tonight... Tonight Arthur is something else entirely. Primal. A damn, dirty outlaw. You love this new view of him, but you can't allow yourself to let the others hear. What if someone were walking by? Or Hosea or Dutch hear you two going at it? You wouldn't be able to look at them for a week! But he doesn't give you much choice in the matter: snaking his hand down between your bodies, his muscular forearm presses against your plush belly while his thumb immediately finds your clit.

"O-Oh, God," you whine as the pad of his thumb circles over you, followed by his name dripping off your tongue like the sweetest honey. "At's it... Such a good girl takin' me so deep. Mmm.. Gonna cum 'round me ain'tchu? Gonna give me a real good one, baby?"

God damn him if his mouth ain't filthy. The way he croons out those little praises and words of encouragement has your climax building faster than you ever could have anticipated. And the swirling of his thumb? It has you shaking, whining, pleading, practically begging for your release as he talks you through it, "C'mon, Darlin'... I feel ya squeezin' me real tight," he praises, "'At's it. Focus on me."

With one more swipe of his thumb over your sensitive clit and his cock hitting that sweet spot right against your cervix, you're tensing, digging your heels into the thin mattress, and cumming around him so hard that you see white. It takes everything in you not to scream, but the strangled sound coming out of you is loud enough to warrant some head-turning if anyone were awake. The moment your walls flutter and start milking him, he falls forward and drops down onto his elbows to cage you in. His thrusts are relentless as he takes his anger out on you in this way, using every movement of his body to release the bristling anger clutching onto his mind like a damn vice grip. No matter how fervent and frenzied, he's still careful not to hurt you, always thinking about how good he's making you feel while chasing his own release.

Arthur isn't a man of many words, but when you're gripped around him like this, clutching him with your arms, legs, and your fluttering pussy, he is downright mouthy. "Oh, such a good girl for listenin' to me. Shh.. Shh. I gotchu, baby. I gotchu."

His mouth hovers over yours, claiming your lips as he kisses you hard and possessively. Moans spill out of you, traveling through the expanse of his throat until it hums within his chest and he echoes one back. To talk like this with him, in a language only two lovers could understand, is far more intimate and pleasurable than anyone could ever know. Arthur is yours and you are his, no ownership or proprietary claim, but just the pleasant knowledge that both of you choose to love each other is enough.

With a few more rolls of his hips, he's nearing his own orgasm: length twitching and engorging as his balls tighten. In desperation, he quickly climbs off of you and pulls his cock out from your core. His right hand tightens into a fist around himself, and although you can't see it, you hear the lewd, effortless slide of his hand vigorously pumping over his tip like his life depends on cumming for you.

Finally, his orgasm hits him, working its way out of his tightened balls and spurting over your plump mound and belly. If he could see his spend on you like this, it'd be enough to make him cum all over again. But both of you are far too exhausted to even consider that so soon. You're still shaking, panting heavily as he lowers himself down onto you, not caring that his sticky spend is now covering the front of his body as well, as your sweaty bodies come down from such an enormous height.

His touch traces a slow, deliberate path down your leg until his fingertips reach the softness of your hip, where he gives your flesh a gentle but firm grasp. Reveling in the smoothness of your skin and the feel of your curvy form beneath his palm, he lets out a slow exhale through his nose. The heat of his breath spills over your neck and shoulder, doubled by the heavy breaths leaving his lips as he lazily peppers your clammy skin with kisses.

After a long stretch of quiet spent nestled into his hair, breathing in the comforting remnants of campfire intermingled with his musky scent, your breathing finally begins to steady. Slowly, your senses return to you one by one, like pieces of a puzzle falling back into place. Shock and disbelief jolt through your entire being as it finally hits you how easily he manipulated your body with his own strength and skill as a lover. You'd heard of men being rough with women, but never did you think it could be this pleasurable.

Your voice finally cuts through the relative silence, carrying a deep sense of satisfaction and astonishment with it, "Wh-here in the hell did that come from?"

An amused chuckle rumbles inside his chest, slightly huffing out of his nose as he slightly pushes himself off of you to gauge your reaction, "Reckon I were a little pent up. Why? You like it?"

To say you liked it was an understatement, but you'd like anything as long as Arthur were right there with you to experience it just the same. While his right hand slides up over the plump contours of your body, appreciatively grabbing at the plushness of your stomach and breasts, he lovingly brushes a few stray strands of hair off your forehead stuck there by the sweat covering your body. You hum softly in agreement to his question, deciding that you did enjoy this different side of him you hadn't expected, despite his rough exterior.

"Mhmm.. 'S always good with you," the loving words you murmur cling to his heart and earn you a pleasant kiss that tastes like the remnants of his busted lip.

As his lips trail back down over your jawline, his beard delightfully scratches over your sensitive skin, causing you to hum in appreciation for him loving you like a man who worships the very ground you walk upon. Your own body follows his lead, fingertips glide down the entire length of his back, tracing the contour of muscle that hint at the immense strength lurking beneath. You can't help but marvel at his shape, this man you love so dearly, and how his body was molded for love and carved from such a hard life. While your fingertips glide across his muscled frame, you can feel the subtle shift of his body as he adjusts himself on top of you, notricebly more relaxed than before: a clear testamanet to the calming eddect your touch has on him.

Curiosity peaked, you murmur, "You relaxed now?" as your fingertips idly trace the two little dimples that grace the base of his spine, just above the firm and muscular curve of his ass.

An amused smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, obviously enjoying the path your fingertips are carving out over his back. He'd never admit it, but he loves it when you grab him unabashedly, palming his ass like he so often does to you. The warmth of his cock brushing over your leg, hardening much faster than he expected for a man his age, tells you all you need to know.

He agrees with you, humming softly against your chest as he inches himself down to where his mouth hovers over the plump swell of your breasts, "Thinkin' that we just might need a little more time for relaxin', don'tchu?"

A/N: Big thanks for the divider from @saradika-graphics and the beautiful gif from @sunwingsunset, please go send them some love for their work! <3

Other creators that expressed interest and drew inspiration from: @subpopizzy , @cassietrn , @coltermorning , @redwritr, @zae-heeyyy, @twola , @amorgansgal

Please do go check all the blogs I tagged! You surely won't be disappointed!

As always, sending my love - M. <3

#Thank you for reading - from the bottom of my little Appalachian Heart <3 #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x reader smut #arthur morgan #rdr2 community #grumpy #fluff #arthur morgan rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #john marston #rdr #dutch van der linde #molly o'shea #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x you

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nmn-yty · 9 days ago

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— ๋࣭ ⭑࿐ all yours ｡o♡⋆˚｡⋆.

pairing: park seonghwa x reader

summary: successfully enticing hwa with one more round? less likely than you think.

word count: 0.6k

a/n: sooo we all went crazy after his recent post, right? this is just a quick silly fic for your imaginations because im sooo smitten for hwa lately... this is my first ateez fic! i hope you like it, atiny^^ also i haven't posted in months! sorry about that,, happy new year! might post a quick draft of something to see if anyone is interested, keep an eye out for that! anyways, enjoy!^^

+ stylized lowercase, missing punctuation (not done on purpose), and minimal revisions

"hnggg.." your head followed the noise of a sleepy, drowsy seonghwa just inches away from you on your bed. he has his arms laid out in front of him and was lying on his stomach. the way his body stretched out on the sheets was too perfect. his hands caressing the duvet roughly, grabbing onto the fabric for stability in more stretches. his fingers turning rosy from how hard he was holding on.

his white knitted sweater lifted slightly to reveal his waist, something you could stare at forever. you swore that you caught yourself drooling a little over how good he looked in that moment. your silence was loud to him, causing him to turn his head ever so slightly in your direction.

"what're staring at?" his voice was husky and faint, almost as if he wasn't fully conscious yet. his hair was messy from rolling around in bed. his eyes only half opened, deep and staring intently into you.

"you look so soft, so peaceful and pretty just laying there. it's so unfair how good you always look."

"hmm you're softer!" his words still slow and playful. you turned away for a second, the sun rays peaking through the curtains stung your eyes. this was hwas perfect time to attack.

"h-hey!" you managed to yelp out as he suddenly clung onto your arm. lying on his back now, his body was radiating warmth and his scent was sweet. even after hours of sleeping and moving around, he still managed to attract you in every single way. it's as if you were completely bound to him, ready to take on any command.

"get.. on," he lazily whispered. you began to feel his cool fingers brushing against your waist. you couldn't help but burn up to his touch. not knowing what he was thinking, what he wanted with you next, kept your adrenaline flowing.

"what?" you pushed your arms out of his grasp to look at him from a distance. he opened his eyes properly now, something snapped in him to make his consciousness clear. his gaze flickered between you and his lap.

"come on top of me.. crush me with your comfort," he said as he reached his arms straight out. you couldn't help but chuckle at his strange request. was he really awake yet?

you couldn't help but oblige as soon as your laughter died down. you were straddling seonghwa, being careful to make it as innocent as possible. bellies touching, you wrapped your arms around his neck. resting your cheek against his, you closed your eyes and your body started to melt into him.

the familiar cool fingers of his found themselves around your waist again. slight shivers began to spread all over your body, his touch was enough to drive you crazy.

he noticed this immediately, "shh," he chuckled softly between the coos.

you couldn't take it anymore. both your bodies being pressed up against each other, you could hear the gentle beat of his heart. you could memorize the pace in which he was breathing, slightly hitching at times from the tension. you lifted your head away from his, only to rush into locking yourself on his lips.

sloppy sounds erupted from seonghwa's mouth, slipping out moans of pleasure and need. his hands held your waist tighter, moving them up your torso.

you felt a growing sensation of want in the pit of your stomach. you couldn't possibly go for another round, could you? pulling away from him, you returned to your resting position with your faces touching.

seonghwa hid his face with the back of his hand. the same rosy blush that was shown earlier on his hands was not spread all over his face and neck. you couldn't see it properly but you knew he was always the cutest while being flustered.

"damn... why do you love to tease me?"

all you could do was chuckle lightly, proud that you had him wrapped around your finger.

#pics are not mine!#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez x reader #ateez fluff #ateez imagines #park seonghwa #park seonghwa x reader #park seonghwa fluff #park seonghwa fanfic #gulp #um #pls like this ik it's kinda bad #park seonghwa smut #ateez smut

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thelostconsultant · 5 months ago

Text

Secrets

pairing: Lestappen x reader

summary: Charles convinces you to join his relationship with Max.

warnings: Well, not much, except for mentions of sexual activities, unprotected sex (wrap it, guys) and pregnancy.

note: Just little snippets stitched together to give you a glimpse into their life.

The plan began to form in Charles’s head when it was announced you would become his race engineer from the 2024 season. As you got closer and got to know each other better, he began to flirt with you, making it quite clear that he wanted something from you, and when he kissed you for the first time, feeling it in his bones that he got you, he finally told you the truth.

“There’s something you should know,” he told you softly with his hand resting on your cheek. “I’ve been in a relationship for a good… three years now, but me and my partner are looking for someone to play with, someone who would be willing to be a part of our little secret.”

“Why do you keep it a secret?” you asked him, flashing a curious look at him.

Charles let out a long sigh as he thought about what to say to that. “We are trying to avoid a scandal.”

“So it’s someone people know. Hmm… If I was held at gunpoint and they told me to name one person you might be in a controversial relationship with, my first guess would be Max, but–” When you came to a sudden halt, he knew his expression gave away his surprise that you figured it out on your own. Well, he wasn’t that good at keeping a poker face after all. “No way,” you said slowly, your voice suddenly dropping.

He smiled at you after shaking off the bad feeling he had. You wouldn’t rat them out, he could tell, but now he was worried you would say no and it would change the way you work together. “Now you know, but please, this has to stay between us.”

You nodded your head a few times. “Sure, I won’t tell a soul.” There was a short pause, but then you looked back at him and said, “So how long have you been looking for a third member for this relationship?”

“We weren’t actively searching. When I met you, I found you attractive, then I got to know you better and realized I like your personality too. Max heard a lot of stories about you, and he was also attracted, so we just came to the rational conclusion that we would love to have you,” he explained.

You agreed pretty easily. Sure, you did point out that it was only a pilot period, you wanted to see if this could even work, but that was more than enough for Charles. And soon enough you fell in love with them the same way they fell in love with you, and being together in this relationship became the new normal for you.

During race weekends the two of you could spend a lot more time together, easily slipping into his driver’s room to have some fun, but times like this you usually put extra effort into showing Max how much you loved him when you got him in your company again.

Charles was in an extremely good mood in the evening, and when Max finally arrived, he was immediately pulled into a hungry kiss, his back pressed against the now closed door. “Good drive today, pretty boy,” the Dutchman praised him as he placed kisses along his jawline. “Wish we could talk a little more.”

“We can talk now,” he said before letting out a short laugh and slipping out of his grasp to move towards the kitchen.

Max shook his head with a smile as he glanced into the living room. “Where’s our princess?” he asked with a confused look as he followed the other man.

“Left to take care of something. Actually, it’s good that she’s not here, because I need to talk to you,” Charles said as he passed his boyfriend a glass of soda, who seemed much more interested in what he was about to hear. Rolling his eyes, Charles reached out to take his hand. “Hey, don’t give me that look, I’m not planning to break up with you. I was thinking about why she wanted to go on a date. Do you think she wants to leave us?”

“No, I don’t think so. But… I don’t know, I once overheard a conversation she had with a friend or relative, and she was trying to explain to them why she hasn’t been in a relationship for a while,” he admitted.

As he sat on a barstool, Charles let out a thoughtful hum. “It’s a good thing you mentioned this, because my idea could actually help this issue,” he began, earning a questioning look. “Maybe it’s time to make things official for our sake.” Max shook his head, but before he could say anything, he went on. “Not us, dummy. I know we agreed to keep it a secret for a few more years. I’m talking about you and her. Just hear me out. I can be seen in her company because she’s my race engineer and we’re friends as far as people know. But you? You’re on a different team, people think we don’t like each other. So if she was dating you, you wouldn’t have to feel left out even on race weekends, and I could jump over to meet her, even if she’s with you.”

With a thoughtful hum, Max rested his forearms on the kitchen island. “That’s… actually… not a bad idea,” he said slowly. “Have you told her about this?”

“No, not yet. I was waiting for you,” came the response.

Nodding, he moved to stand behind him and wrapped his arms around his body. “Are you sure about this?” Charles let out a confirming hum in response. “Well, if she’s on board, I say let’s do this,” he replied before placing a soft kiss on his cheek.

Max woke up to the sound of you vomiting in the bathroom. He quickly jumped out of bed to see what was up with you, and when he opened the door, he saw you sitting on the floor with tears in your eyes. With a worried look, he kneeled next to you and kissed the top of your head. “Stomach flu?” he asked you softly. But you shook your head at this, carefully avoiding his gaze. “Tell me, what’s wrong? You’re hiding something.”

“What’s going on?” came Charles’s groggy voice from the door. When Max looked over at him, he saw the way he was rubbing his eyes, but then he focused on the two of you on the floor and quickly woke up. “You okay?”

You groaned, then flushed the toilet and went to the sink to wash your face. “I’m fine,” you replied defensively.

“What are you hiding from us?” Max pressed on, knowing you well enough to sense there was more to the story.

A minute or two passed in tense silence while they waited for you to finally speak up. Charles moved to be by your side as support, but he was stopped right away. He meant well, but this wasn’t the time to play nice. Max wanted answers, and if he had to be harsh to get them, he was willing to do it. And his strategy worked, because you finally took a deep breath and turned around to rest your hips against the sink.

Your eyes moved back and forth between the two of them as you said, “I’m pregnant.”

Charles gasped next to him, barely able to hide his bright smile, but Max was hesitant. You had been with them for almost a year, and you had been publicly dating him for a while too, but this? This he wasn’t expecting. It’s not that he wasn’t happy, because he was. But you looked scared and maybe even ashamed, and this was killing him. So he quickly rushed over to you to cup your face with a smile on his face.

“Are you sure?” When you nodded, he kissed your forehead. “I love you, sweet girl.”

“You’re gonna be a great mom,” Charles added as he joined you and put his arms on your shoulders. “So… I’m gonna ask. Who’s the father?” he wondered out loud with raised eyebrows.

Shrugging, you looked down at your hands. “I don’t know. I’m on the pill, but both of you doofuses tend to forget to use a goddamn condom, so it could be either of you,” you mumbled.

Max looked over at his boyfriend as he bit on his lower lip, feeling guilty since they had agreed at the beginning not to do this. But based on the look on Charles’s face, he wasn’t the only one thinking about this. Of course, this was nothing new for the two of them, they had discussed their preference to fuck you raw countless times, but they never explicitly told you about this. But you weren’t stupid, you just probably loved them enough to let them do what they wanted as long as you all tested yourselves on a regular basis.

“Are you mad at us?” Charles asked cautiously, but you just shook your head. “Then what’s wrong? I can see there’s something else you’re not telling us.”

“That’s not how you wanted to become parents,” you eventually told them.

The sentence made Max’s heart clench, and he could tell Charles felt just the same based on the look they exchanged. They had told you about their plan to one day either use a surrogate mother or adopt a child depending on how things stood in their lives. Adoption seemed to be the winning option at the time as they couldn’t decide whose biological child should it be if they chose the surrogacy option.

But things had changed since then, a lot of things happened and their feelings also changed. Once the Monegasque nodded, Max took a deep breath and prepared to tell you what they were both thinking about at the moment.

“We love you. Yes, we did have different options in our heads at the time we talked about this, but now you fully belong to us. Our gorgeous and smart girlfriend is pregnant from one of us,” he said with a smile as he tipped your head to make you look at him. “It’s so much better than anything we could dream of. You should be happy now. We’re here, we love you, we’re going to support you the whole time.”

On his side, Charles let out a quiet chuckle, then kissed your temple. “You’re not getting rid of us, baby, don’t even think about it.”

note2: I just wanted a little glimpse into their lives. I don't know if I should write more about them, little snippets or text or idk.

#lestappen #lestappen x reader #lestappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #f1 #formula 1 #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic

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eczlipse · 6 months ago

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your stalker - h.j.

summary : jisung has been your stalker for god knows long— you both get paired in class for a project and he tricks you into coming over at his place.

pairing : stalker/perv!jisung x fem!reader

warnings : smut! oral, fem!receiving, needy reader, stressed out (soothing you) , picture taking, lowercase intended. lmk if i missed any!!

wc: 1.6k

jisung didn’t like to call himself your stalker, preferably your admirer. he’d been very secretive about his excessive interest in you. had he followed you home sometimes? yes. had he stolen some clothes from you? yes. would he harm you in any way? that, he absolutely wouldn’t do.

after all, you were his twisted fantasy. and now, he had to face you. you two were put together in class for a science project. unlucky you, you hadn’t paid attention in class, making you have to talk to the brunette beside you.

- hi, jisung. im y/n! nice to meet you.

that angelic voice of yours never failed to make jisung melt. he’d been so interested in you for so long, yet, seeing you and hearing you from up close mesmerized him even more.

he cleared his throat and began,

- nice to meet you.

he tried to play it off cool although inside he was thrilled to speak to you.

- do you know what to do? cause’ i really don’t—

you chuckled, almost feeling embarrassed of your inattentive behaviour in class. you hoped he knew what had been assigned to-do in class today.

- ah— don’t worry about’ it, i can work on it. also um, the teacher did say we had to complete it by midnight though. maybe you could uh- come over and work on it together at mine’s after school?

jisung had lied to you completely. the teacher hadn’t said that you needed to complete it by midnight, he just wanted you over. so clueless, you answered him positively.

- sure, why not? it’d be easier if we bussed back together then… i don’t think have my city bus card on me though.

- no worries, i can pay for both of us.

he seemed excited to pay, excited to be at service to you. jisung smiled, waiting for you to accept his offer.

- alright then, if you insist!

you’d never had really noticed jisung but, from this interaction, he was nothing but a nice guy— right? you hoped to get to know more about, either if it were in class or in the bus— the bell rung, abruptly stopping your train of thought.

it had been last period so you followed along jisung to get to his house. first you both stopped by his locker then followed over to yours, it hadn’t been too far away. as the crowd was so big, you held onto his backpack and attempted to duck down and follow his lead.

luckily enough, you both made it safetly into the bus as he paid for both you and himself. found yourselves a seat, and sat down side by side.

- god, that was so much. you have to deal with that everyday?

you’d been almost out of breath because of the quick movements from earlier.

- yeah— but i’ve gotten pretty used to it, sorry should’ve warned you… this route takes a while so you can sleep if you want.

sleep, the word you’d wanted to hear all day. you’d given him a nod and slowly put your head on his shoulder. falling asleep to the commotion around you, the outside view from the other windows and a surprisingly warm, comfortable shoulder.

jisung had been speechless the whole ride, a part of him wanted to spend the whole ride gazing at you. the other wanted to put his head on your head too, but, he knew that wouldn’t be something you’d want. he’d sneak a couple pictures of you, not in any bad intentions, he genuinely just found you very alluring. even when you were asleep. he’d do other things with other pictures he’d taken of you, not the sleeping ones—

after a while, you both arrive to jisung’s stop and he slowly woke you up, tapping on your arm and gently lifting your head. this action did infact awake you and you got up very quickly. he almost chuckled at your initiative and made you follow him out the bus. getting off, you couldn’t help but notice how captivating his neighborhood was.

- it’s so pretty here, are we going to have to walk a while?

- thanks, and no we’re only a couple houses down.

he assured. checking the time it read 5pm, his parents wouldn’t be home— perfect. a part of him felt guilty for dragging you out here but, it was a friday and he promised himself to offer you an uber to get back. as you both walked under the magnificent sunset, you followed his steps. the walk may have been silent but it felt peaceful.

this had probably been jisung’s dream : hanging out with the girl he’s obsessed with.

- this is it… my parents aren’t home either.

he whispered while he opened the front door, let you in and closed it behind you.

- oh, okay! this is beautiful— where do we set our things down?

- uhm, i guess we could just chill in my room.

- okay, that’s fine.

you both went up the stairs and into jisung’s bedroom. his room had been decorated with posters, figurines and even a couple mangas. it had been so cool to see. you’d been able to recognize a few anime figures, some looking a bit more suggestive than others atleast—

- this is so cool.

you hummed, he smiled at you and grabbed your things as you both sat down on his bed. he opened both of your science books and lended you a pencil to start working.

he couldn’t contain himself from looking at you so much. your beauty had been blissful to him. the way you curved your lip a bit when you were writing, how you fidgeted with your lip if you were stressed or how your eyebrows would curve up if you didn’t understand something. to him, you were the most captivating girl.

as time passed by, he noticed that you’d been stuck on a question. almost as if you were stressing yourself out, constantly writing and erasing, checking your answers and more.

- hey, what’s going on? do you need help? you seem stressed.

he questioned, putting a hand on your hand attempting to soothe you.

- it’s just this uh— question. i keep getting it wrong and— i keep trying to mm’ restart? nothings work—

- maybe you just need to, relax.

he cut off your stuttering and confusion, only to confuse you more…

- how? how can i relax?

you spoke, breathy because of your ranting from earlier.

at that he slowly placed down your homework and lied you down on his bed. then grew a smirk on jisung’s face. did he want to…? you couldn’t lie to yourself and say he was unattractive. because, he really was cute to you. you let him lie you down until he asked you a simple question.

- maybe i can calm you down, hm?

it’s like you were seeing another side to him, you were more vulnerable to him. you knew what he meant by calming you down, especially with the way he cooed at you—

- um, y— yes, sure.

you shuddered, what kind of affect did he have on you? the way he’d been speaking, that grin— that grin had been once sweet, now so enticing.

you let him slowly unzip your jeans, the wetness between your legs growing. he held eye contact with you, just to see how much you’d squirm or if your face would change in any manner.

as you slid off your pants, he began rubbing his hand over your underwear, making you let out a whimper. jisung’s touch was driving you crazy, and you couldn't get enough of him.

not only were you getting wet, but jisung’s erection had been growing since you’d entered the room. he slowly pulled your panties to the side as you felt the first brush of his fingers against your clit. his smirk never left his face as he’d seen you gasp at his touch.

- you’re so wet for me, need more?

you hummed, curving your eyebrows up. he’d melted at your reaction, that face of yours. he’d finally be seeing you aroused, in front of him. for him.

he began slowly rubbing, his fingers dipping into your wet folds. you moaned, digging your head into his shoulder. he then moved himself down to you, now in between your legs. you could see the hunger in his eyes before finally darting his tongue into you in order to taste you. your hips bucked up, moaning his name.

- fu- fuck, jisung—

he licked and sucked, his tongue working at a perfect pace, you couldn’t help but pull on his hair wanting him deeper in you. his pace increased, your moans and his filling up the room. his erection only grew more, palming himself as he pleasured you. this had been his dream, having you, being in between your legs and making you feel weak over him.

- i’ve wanted you for’ so long—

he groaned in between your legs, fastening his pace. you felt your body tighten as you whimpered, tightening your grip on his hair.

- m’ so close—

you cried out, his hand now gripping onto your thigh. with a loud moan, you came, your orgasm washing over you. your body had been shaken, as you heard jisung’s moans of pleasure, tasting you. he pulled back, his lips glistening in your cum, a stain now evident on his pants.

he finally had you to himself.

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ms-demeanor · 2 months ago

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So there's this stucky fanfic blog (leave me alone, i hate marvel movies and like it when blonde men are bleeding; see also my recent interest in dungeon meshi) that I used to follow that had some major mod drama and basically stopped posting in 2020. I still get it as a recommended blog when I'm scrolling pretty regularly.

Here's what its archive looked like very recently:

Aaaand here's what its archive looked like starting November 3rd:

It is a compendium of the most absolutely rancid shitlib takes available and is going to be GENUINELY useful for a research project i'm working on because I periodically see these things float across my dash but I don't follow enough people who engage with these kind of posts to know what's a good source of them.

I only noticed it in the first place because it popped up as a recommended blog with a picture of trump, whereas normally when i see it recommended it's old fic or fanart.

Anyway, I'm torn between which of these two posts I scrolled past at a glance are my favorite. This one agitating about why censorship is good, actually and the government should ban tiktok (if you don't know why it's a bad thing to set a precedent that the US government bans the use of specific app I just can't help you, i'm sorry, even if you think tiktok is bad you shouldn't want the government banning apps) or this one that uses a Bill Maher quote that is explicitly about the hypocrisy of american civic religion to represent a group calling itself "The Christian Left."

First of all, Bill Maher is, essentially, a conservative and antivaxxer who thinks that Democrats keep losing because they're alienating their base by supporting things like universal healthcare (maher has cheerfully said on his show that he thinks we shouldn't charge taxpayers to make fat people healthy and that the best healthcare is a diet; he has also said a healthy diet is why people don't need vaccines, and you should skip the fast food to avoid getting the flu, and that vaccines cause alzheimers) and cancelling student debt.

Second of all:

As a very reddit-type atheist myself, I wish more people would remember that Bill Maher is not interested in christian morality, he is interested in pointing out hypocrisy as a cheap gotcha (and is absolutely uninterested in responding when people point out his own hypocrisy - he is a neat demonstration of why there is essentially no utility in pointing out when people's actions don't align with their stated beliefs).

Anyway, it's clear that the mod drama on a decade-old MCU fanblog was justified, thank you, unhinged mod, for the repository of liberal memes, and everyone, please please please accept that bill maher is a huge piece of shit and you don't want him to be the face of your movement.

#of course prismatic bell is on the censorship post

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aroaceleovaldez · 14 days ago

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completely disregarding retcons/errors from HoO, aka the series full of both internal and external inconsistency, I wanna talk about Luke cause it is literally a constantly battle in the fandom of what the hell is up with Luke. And as somebody who likes to rattle Luke around like a six year old with a headless barbie I would like people to stop yelling about misinterpreting a very simple scene after like 15 years.

So here's my breakdown. it's quite simple: Yes, when Luke was dying, he was asking if Annabeth was in love with him romantically. This has absolutely nothing to do with Luke's own feelings. Luke very explicitly did NOT love Annabeth romantically. This is established many times over. Seriously go read Demigod Diaries or something.

Luke was asking if Annabeth was in love with him because he had already caused her so much pain, he couldn't die peacefully if he knew he was about to break her heart on top of it all. He wasn't implying he had any thoughts of reciprocating it. He was just asking permission from Annabeth to die, through the lens of "Will it absolutely ruin your life right now if I kick the bucket?" because if it was going to, then he wouldn't want to. Annabeth reassured him she'd be fine if he died and he went "alright cool peace out ✌️." It was not at all related to Luke's own feelings towards Annabeth. Her opinion of him mattered, mostly in "I care if you will be hurt by this," but he did not feel romantically towards her.

Now HoO has one (1) line that implies Luke did like Annabeth, but HoO also gets Literally Everything Wrong, including making simple errors within like 3 chapters of itself, and given it is retroactive, regardless we can pretty definitively disregard it.

Also like, the meta reason for that scene, and also the Rachel scenes like two minutes later is entirely to clear the air for Percabeth to happen. Like, it's literally just to have an excuse for Annabeth go to "No I conveniently don't have any hang-ups about previous romantic feelings I didn't have that may impede me dating the protagonist" followed immediately by Rachel going "Percy btw as your secondary love interest: I am explicitly unavailable now. Go date Annabeth." Like that's the other purpose there and why those scenes follow each other at the end of TLO. It's just wrapping up loose ends for the romance subplot and confirming that the tension between Luke and Percy in Annabeth's life that Percy had built up was not real and didn't need to be further addressed.

#pjo #riordanverse #luke castellan #analysis #this one has been collecting dust in the drafts for a bit #sorry i saw an actually good luke crimes post today from someone not in the TA side of the fandom #which is rare cause usually outside of TA side of the fandom like 90% of Luke talk is hate #and it reminded me that i had this in my drafts. like i DO wanna make fun of Luke's crimes #but i wanna make fun of like. the stuff Luke actually did. like ditch his brother in the hell maze or try to feed Annabeth to a bear #dude had a weird vendetta against Grover probably over Thalia. local teen has intense one-sided beef with a goat

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ohnoitstbskyen · 4 months ago

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PINNED POST, FAQ, INFORMATION

Hi, I'm TBSkyen. I make videos on YouTube sometimes. This is my main tumblr blog, the "brand" blog as it were, where I maintain my Social Media Presence™ on this site.

I use the ironic ™ to signal my personal discomfort with the work of being a minor media personality even while I still do that work and make a living off it.

I have a sideblog called @tbposting, mostly for shitposts and reblogs, and in my opinion I have pretty darn good taste in reblogs, so you can follow that if you want. It's also where I'll do random personal posting, microblogging, etc.

This main blog is primarily for 1) answering asks, and 2) posting my Original Content™, usually my main channel videos, as well as the occasional longer essay or critique. Sometimes I'll reblog an interesting or useful thing, or boost a friend's work, but I try to keep the spam to a minimum.

---

About Me

I am a thirtysomething content creator whose primary expertise is character design.

I have a bachelor's degree in English, never finished my master's, did most of a bachelor's degree in history, and that's it. These are my academic qualifications, no more and no less.

My professional experience is primarily being a freelancer and self-employed creator. I spent the better part of a decade working as a commission artist, running webcomics, drawing fanart, and the occasional animation work and not safe for work commissions, and I have at this point a decade of experience and self-study in the subjects I cover. I have also done online community management for, god help me, almost twenty years, so that's a part of my skillset I'll never escape.

I do not have any particular professional creative industry experience, although given what I hear from my professional friends, sometimes that seems like a blessing.

Please maintain a critical distance when engaging with my work. I am a critic. My work is very rarely meant to be taken as authoritative or didactic, and when it is, I will make it clear in my writing. Just because I speak with confidence doesn't mean I am trying to assert objective truth.

---

TAGS (to follow, or filter)

#tbanswers is the tag for every single ask I answer on this blog

#tb reblog is the tag for reblogs

#tb essay is for the occasional longer essay or critical writing

#tbvideos is for my videos and Content™

#tb recommends is for the occasional recommendation of a video essay or other creator

Yes, I know the spaces are inconsistent. It's not on purpose, I just typed them in haphazardly when I started using them and it's stuck.

---

FAQ (before you ask)

Q: Will you ever do a video about ____ ? A: The answer to this question is almost universally "maybe someday, if I have time, and if I feel I have anything worthwhile to say." And the more realistic answer is "no, because I already have far too much on my plate and I have burned myself out too many times." In general, please don't ask me this question, I will most likely not answer it because I have given the same answer a thousand times, but I still feel guilty about not answering them.

Q: Will you continue your series of videos about ____ ? A: Yes! I will continue the let's plays I started, I will finish the Boss Designs series, I will do another What's the Deal With, I will do more shorts about the subjects I've got going on. The main obstacle is, again, my tendency to overload myself.

Q: Do you have a PO box? Can I send you something? A: Not yet, but I'm looking into it. It may be a while before I get it set up.

Q: Do you have merchandise? A: A little bit, yes, at tbskyen.redbubble.com.

Q: What's your opinion on [game/movie/comic/book/etc]? A: I struggle to answer very open, broad questions like this. Most things I have opinions about, I have multiple opinions, and different ones depending on the perspective and specific element in question. I'm much more likely to answer specific, bounded questions.

Q: Can I send you fanart? A: PLEASE. Askbox, tag me on bluesky, send it to my email! I love seeing every piece of it!

Q: Why do you never appear on camera? A: A forest witch cursed me to look not quite but ALMOST like Paul Giamatti in all photos and videos ever taken of me, and his laywers sent me a cease-and-desist.

Q: Are you gay/straight/bi/other? A: The decision I've made for myself, at least for this period of my life, is that privacy is precious, and once given up can never be reclaimed on the internet. I am open about being aromantic (not asexual), because it's a sometimes invisible and underdiscussed identity, and I know it would have helped me a lot to see someone speak about it when I was younger.

The rest of it is for me to know, and for you to speculate about, although preferably somewhere I can't see it. I accept that this is a part of being a Personality, but it still feels weird, y'know?

Q: Is it weird if I find your voice kinda hot? A: I've put a lot of work into developing this voice and making it nice to listen to, so that's not weird at all and I find it quite complimentary, thank you.

I generally don't mind people doing flirty/thirsty posting about or at me, just so long as we all understand that 1) you should never give a stranger like me information which could be used to harm you. Nicer-seeming YouTubers than me have turned out to be monsters.

And 2) it will never go beyond playful online flirtiness. I like to fluster my live chat, I'll flirt back in an ask or a post maybe, but I am not flirting with you, or inviting any kind of closer intimacy with you, the person I responded to.

Think of me like a comedian doing crowd-work at a show - you can chat to me in the bar after the show, but when I asked you what you do for work I wasn't looking for a personal connection, I was doing my work as an entertainer. Please no sending me nudes, or propositions, or confession letters in my email inbox. We are strangers, and I am always performing a persona in public.

#tbskyen #tb skyen

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hintsofhoney · 1 year ago

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Don't Forget It

Paring(s): Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Summary: While working a case with Dean, he gets jealous of the way you interact with a suspect and decides to remind you who you belong to.

Tags: 18+, p in v, unprotected sex (be smart), rough sex, jealous dean, spanking, light dom/sub dynamics, sex in a public place, begging, voyeurism if you squint

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: Just another finished work that's been sitting in my drive, collecting dust. Beta'd by my loves @makeadealwithdean and @wayward-dreamer; love you both to the moon and back 🤍 GIF is mine. Enjoy!

You can also read me on Ao3!

DEAN WINCHESTER MASTERLIST | SUPERNATURAL MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

You don’t miss the way Dean’s eyebrow raises when you lift one leg to sit on the man’s desk, twirling your hair and batting your eyelashes as you try to get him to confess. You’re fully aware of the way your pencil skirt is riding up, revealing more skin than you care to show to this douchebag probably-murderer, but it’s clear that he’s way more interested in speaking to you than Dean. If it helps move the case along, you can turn on the charm.

Dean’s watching you from the corner of the room as you flirt with the sleazebag, his jaw clenching as he reminds himself that you’re just doing your job, but it doesn’t make him want to remind you who you belong to any less. Especially when you look like that . Tight skirt, the top three buttons of your blouse undone, and then when you lean over pretending to laugh at something this guy had said, he catches a glimpse of your black lace bra, and he finds himself trying not to think about ripping it off of you. Not that it was working.

“You know, you’re a pretty little thing, Agent,” the man smirks, and then he’s reaching for the exposed part of your thigh and you’re wishing he wouldn’t , and Dean clears his throat so loudly it startles the both of you. You hop off the desk as the suspect turns around to look at him.

“I think we’re done here,” Dean says, walking over to the desk and pulling a fake business card with his real phone number on it out of his inner suit jacket pocket. “If you remember anything, Mr. McAnn, give me a call.” He tosses the card carelessly onto his desk.

Mr. McAnn huffs. “Yeah, alright, Agent.”

You and Dean both know the phone call isn’t coming; you’re going to need to find another way to prove the dickhead sitting in front of you murdered his wife — possessed or not.

“Let’s go, Y/N,” Dean grits out, his eyes not leaving Mr. McAnn’s as he walks to the door. You follow suit, and the anger in your boyfriend’s voice doesn’t go unnoticed. Dean’s already ten steps ahead of you by the time you’re fully out of the office.

“Dean!” you call after him, speed-walking to match his brisk pace down whatever corporate building hallway you were in. “Slow down, I’m in heels!”

You catch up to him and grab his wrist, spinning him around.

“The hell’s gotten into you?”

He huffs in disbelief, his hands coming to rest on his hips as he tongues the inside of his cheek, thinking of how to answer that question.

“You can’t be serious,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest and raising your eyebrows, realizing what’s gotten his panties in a twist. “I was trying to get him to confess , Dean.”

“I’m not — I know. Okay? But —” he pauses, beginning to stalk towards you, a hunger in his eyes that tells you exactly where this interaction is heading. You nearly trip over yourself as you walk backwards, a soft gasp leaving your lips when your back hits the wall. “Doesn’t mean I like watching you slutting it up for the asshole.”

He’s got you fully caged in between his arms now, one hand on either side of your shoulders, his face inches away from yours.

“You’re mine .”

You roll your eyes. As hot as he is when he’s jealous and possessive, it’s not like he can fuck you in this hallway. Plus, he’s being ridiculous anyway.

“Your point ?” you prod, probably further than you should.

“My —” he huffs again, his hands back on his hips, shaking his head before looking around. “Oh, I’ll show you my fucking point, sweetheart.”

He grabs your wrist, ignoring your squeal, and drags you a few feet down the hall, turning into the women’s bathroom and locking the door behind him. His eyes quickly scan underneath the three stalls before he determines the two of you are alone.

“Dean —”

He cuts off your protest with his hands on your waist, walking you back into the nearby sinks before hoisting you up onto the counter.

“Dean!” you yelp in surprise.

He pays it no mind as he reaches for your blouse, tearing it open in one quick motion, plastic buttons clattering to the floor.

“Dean!” you scold, and Jesus, how many times can you say his name in different ways in one minute?

He remains unphased, focused on two things and two things only, both of which he reveals as he pulls down the cups of your bra.

“Christ, Y/N,” he breathes, cupping your breasts in his hands as he stares at them like it’s his first time ever seeing boobs. His thumbs flick over both of your nipples at the same time, and you arch your back as a moan escapes you.

“Mm, fuck.”

He leans in, his breath fanning over your earlobe as he continues tweaking your nipples. “Might as well have shown that dickhead in there these fuckin’ tits, the way your shirt was hanging open. Left really fuckin’ little to the imagination, Y/N,” he whispers, drawing more sounds from your throat. “He was probably sitting there thinking about doing all the things I’m doing to you right now. And I don’t like that. That’s my fuckin’ point.” He pinches one of your nipples, a yelp leaving your lips. “Understand?”

You nod, unable to form words.

“I can’t hear you.” He pinches the other peak and pulls a little.

“Oh — fuck! Yes, I understand,” you answer. “I’m yours, I’m yours.”

“And don’t forget it.”

His lips find your breasts, and soon he’s sucking bruises into your skin and teasing your nipples with his tongue. He’s everywhere at once, everywhere but where you really need him, and you’re not sure how much more of this torture you can take.

“Dean, please,” you gasp, and he lets out an irritated grunt as he pulls his mouth off one of your breasts, seeming annoyed that you had interrupted his fun with your begging. You can’t blame him – he’s a boob guy. Especially if they’re your boobs.

“I’m not done yet,” he states, before resuming his attack – for lack of a better word – on your breasts.

You groan in protest, the heat between your thighs building, and you spread your legs as far as your skirt will allow. The cool air that hits your core reminds you that you had chosen to forego underwear today, and you reach down to shimmy your skirt up to your hips while Dean’s still focused on your breasts. You’re able to spread your legs a bit further now, and you can’t help but chuckle at the fact that your boyfriend still hasn’t noticed you fully on display.

He pulls away an inch or so when he hears your giggling. “Somethin’ funny?”

“You really are a boob guy, huh?” You shake your head in disbelief, biting back a smile. He furrows his eyebrows in confusion, and you use the opportunity to lean forward, simultaneously pulling him towards you by his shoulders so you can whisper in his ear. “You’ve been so focused on them you haven’t taken the time to look down yet, have you?”

He pulls away, still confused, until his eyes dart down to your core. “Jesus – wait – did you –”

“Was debating between those panties you really like or just foregoing them altogether,” you shrug.

“Fuck,” he breathes, staring at your dripping core for a few moments before a second wave of feral hunger hits him. “ Fuck .”

Before you can even process his movements, you’re bent over the counter instead of sitting on it, your legs kicked apart with two fingers plunging into your heat.

“Oh my – Dean !” you squeal at both the abruptness and the roughness of it all.

“Don’t know what you expected, sweetheart, walking around with everything on fuckin’ display.” He crooks his fingers at just the right angle, and you bite back a scream.

“I – fuck – nothing w-was on display – oh God !”

“Might as well have been. This tight little skirt of yours doesn’t leave much to the imagination, either. And then to find out there’s been nothing underneath it this whole time?”

“Ow!” you exclaim, as a loud smack fills the air, courtesy of Dean’s hand landing on your bare ass.

“ Louder ,” he growls. “I want the whole fuckin’ building to know they can imagine whatever they want, but I’m the only one who gets to act on it.” He pulls his fingers out of you and spanks you again.

“De – oh, fuck !” you choke out. “Please, Dean.”

“Please what?” he asks nonchalantly, and you can hear his belt buckle clinking behind you.

“Fuck me. Please, I need you to fuck me.”

“ Need me to, huh?” You hear the zipper of his slacks, and you shift your weight in anticipation, your ass squirming. He lands another smack on your left cheek – the hardest one yet.

“DEAN!” you yelp, and you’re certain the entire building heard that one.

“There you go. Now beg that loud and I may just give you what you want,” he chuckles, grabbing a fistful of your hair and bringing your face up from the counter while he runs his cock through your soaked folds.

“Please!” you groan.

“Mm-mm, not hearin’ you, sweetheart.”

“Deaaaan!” you whine, pushing your hips back, trying to force him inside you.

“You know what to do, Y/N.”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath – there’s only so much of this you can take. You focus on his cock teasing your folds for a few moments, and that’s all the encouragement you need.

“Please, Dean! Please, fuck me!”

“That’s better. Louder.”

“Jesus fucking – FUCK ME, NOW!”

You’re rewarded immediately, and he bottoms out inside you with ease.

“Was that so hard?”

“Fuck me,” you reply through gritted teeth, “or I’m gonna go get Mr. McAnn to do it.”

That is both the very wrong and very right thing to say.

You yelp as he yanks up harder on your hair, your chest leaving the counter. His hand moves to rest on your neck – not choking you, simply holding you in place – and then he pounds into you harder than he ever has before.

“You are something else, you know that?” he hisses, his thrusts hard and fast. “I know you were only acting like a slut for Mr. Douchebag back there, but it just comes so – fucking – easy – to you, doesn’t it?” He punctuates his words with more thrusts. “And not wearin’ any underwear – that wasn’t for the act, hm? That was because you were hopin’ to end up like this, yeah?” His hand moves from your throat to grip underneath your jaw when you fail to answer. “ Yeah ?”

“Yeah – oh m-my God – fuck , D-Deaaan.”

He smirks, watching you in the mirror above the counter as you slowly come apart on his cock. “No, you don’t have to act like a slut for me, sweetheart. You just are one, hm?”

You nod to the best of your ability.

“Open your eyes, look at yourself,” he orders, his grip on your jaw tightening as his thrusts speed up. You do as you’re told, meeting your reflection in the mirror. You’re not sure if your mascara is smudged because of sweat or tears, your hair looks like a bird has made its home in it, and you can’t remember a time that you’ve looked this fucked out. “See what I mean?” Dean questions. “Sluttiest you’ve ever fuckin’ looked. Not that I’m complaining.”

You feel the dam inside you about to break, and you let out a whimper in warning.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he says, almost out of breath, his tone laced with pity. “Are you gonna cum?”

“Mm-hm,” you nod, whimpering again.

“You like being my slut that much, hm?”

“Dean, please,” you beg, squeezing your eyes shut, stalling your release as much as you can. You’re not sure why – it’s not like you have to wait for his permission – but you find yourself wanting it.

“Christ, Y/N,” he breathes, quickly realizing what you’re asking for. His thrusts are becoming erratic, and you know he’s close too. “Hold it, baby. Can you do that?”

“I don’t –”

“Mmm, I think you can. I’m – fuck – I’m close. Be a good little slut and hold it. Want you – shit – want you to cum with me, sweetheart.”

You find yourself nodding, focusing on Dean’s pants in your ear instead of the precipice of your release, and a few seconds go by before expletives are falling from his lips and you know it’s safe for you to let go.

Your dam breaks. “Oh, God – fuck – Dean!”

“Fuuuuuck,” he moans, filling you up. He lets his forehead fall to your shoulder as he catches his breath, post-orgasmic shivers running through him as you ride out your high, your walls clenching around his cock. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he pants, lifting his head to press a kiss behind your ear. “Such a perfect fuckin’ slut.”

You manage a soft giggle as your body settles. “Only for you, babe.”

He chuckles, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder as he stares at your reflection in the mirror.

“And don’t you forget it.”

#dean winchester smut #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader

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writingwithfolklore · 2 months ago

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How to Ask for Stuff

Being able and knowing how to ask for things that you want is an incredibly important skill for… y’know, getting what you want. Whether it’s mentorship, feedback, an explanation or quick advice, networking, a job, etc. etc. etc. it's important you ask the right way to have the best chance of success.

There’s three things that should be in your request:

1. Who are you—how are you related?

This should be short and sweet. “I am a university student studying major, and was in professor’s class where you presented last week.” Or “I am a recent graduate looking to get a foothold in blah blah industry, and saw you had a lot of experience on your linkedIn profile.”

You really don’t need more than that to make yourself relevant and create a connection with this person, and it immediately sets you apart as an individual/real person. People are more likely to help people that they feel like they know in some way, rather than a complete stranger. If you are a complete stranger, explain why you decided to reach out to them specifically.

2. What exactly are you looking for

Be as specific as possible. It is far better to say, “I am looking for feedback on the first five pages of my novel, specifically around if the opening grabs the audience.” Than, “I am looking for feedback.”

This part can be a little bit scary because it is the actual asking for what you want part, but if people know exactly what you want, they will find it a lot easier to help you. Other things you can ask for: “I am looking to sit down with you for coffee and discuss your experience in the industry.” Or “I was hoping you may have some leads for where to start with my job search” etc. etc.

3. What will the project/request look like?

This will help the person decide if they have the time or availability to do what you are asking for. If you’re looking to meet with them, include your availability and where or how you are able to meet. If it’s more of a feedback situation, include when you would need notes back by and how you would like to receive said notes. So,

“I am available Monday through Friday after 5pm to meet. Please let me know if you are interested and available within that schedule!”

“If you are interested, I would love the opportunity to get on a Zoom call with you to discuss feedback. I am available any time on weekends, and would prefer if you were able to get back to me by March 1st as I will need time to adjust the piece for the due date.”

Etc. etc.

It’s important that you maintain a professional and friendly tone, even with people who have already agreed to help you. Some ways of asking for things that I have received that I find very discouraging are:

Disinterested

I got a request that was basically, “help me if you want, I don’t care it doesn’t matter to me either way.” If you don’t care, then why would I care? Only reach out to people you genuinely want to collaborate in some way with, and make clear that you are interested in working with them. We’re not trying to look cool and disinterested here.

Impatient

Everyone is busy all the time. If your person doesn’t reply right away, do not send a message back around the lines of, “um hello??” or “are you going to reply or not?” this comes across as pretty rude and a bit entitled to that person’s time and immediate attention. If your person doesn’t reply, you can send a follow up after a week, and maintain the same tone as in your initial email/message:

“Hi (name), this is a friendly follow-up on my request. If you have any additional questions for me, please let me know. I am also able to accommodate another time slot if needed. Thank you!”

As the asker, it is your job to be flexible. Of course, if your person can’t make your hard deadline or you really can’t make your schedules work, thank them anyway and move on, but if you are able to accommodate them, do so!

Here is an example email to start you off:

Hello (person’s name), My name is (blank) and I am a (major) student/graduate from (blank) University. We met at the (place) job fair last week, and I was really intrigued by your experience in (blah) industry. I was wondering if you would be available to meet with me sometime in the next week to discuss how you got started in the industry and your experience at (company). I am available between (time) and (time) (days of the week), but may be able to accommodate a different time if it would work better for you. Please let me know if you are interested! Thank you, (Full name)

#writing #writing community #creative writing #writers #writing inspiration #screenwriting #filmmaking #books #life advice #career advice #networking #job search #asking for things #work emails #sending emails

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mariasont · 9 months ago

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Hello baby borl can you write a spencer reid x reader where they are kind of awkward but they still are relatively outgoing but they never EVER make the first move so they just vaguely flirt with him but very awkwardly like... maybe they have an obscure favorite animal and they tell him about it and then they compare him to it and its funny bc its like.. a slug or a spider (an animal that many ppl dont like and dont find attractive)

Arachnophobia - S.R

a/n: i dont know if baby borl was a misspelling or not but i am obsessed with it and i will now be referring to everyone as that from this point forward

ALSO thank you so much for the request i <3 an awkward reader truly

masterlist

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: spencer reid x reader

warnings: spider! ah!, reader climbing on a chair like that's a little dramatic if you ask me, spencer being a little shit, fluffy fluff, cuties being awkward, comparing spencer to a female spider!

wc: 0.9k

"Oh my god!"

You didn't mean for your scream to be as loud as it was, it was more instinctive than anything, not having enough time to stifle it as you hopped upon the closest desk chair. Unfortunately for you, that chair happened to belong to the object of your affection—Spencer Reid, resident boy genius and pretty boy.

Pretty boy was the understatement of the century. He was the embodiment of aesthetic perfection in your eyes, a vision of loveliness that seemed almost otherworldly.

But that all receded to the edges of your brain, your gaze laser focused on the teeny tiny crawler scuttling across the carpeted floor beneath you.

"Is there a reason you're standing on my chair?"

Spencer's eyes were trained on your shoes, a frown forming as he undoubtedly considered the microbial invasion spreading from your soles to his well-maintained seat.

You couldn't say anything, mouth snapped shut as you just pointed to the hairy thing. He quirked an eyebrow, following your gesture before a soft chuckle escaped him, head shaking in the process.

You narrowed your eyes, not finding the same humor in the situation as he was. "Spencer, it's not funny. Get it please?"

"Well since you asked so nicely." He moved towards a box of tissues on his desk. But you grasped his wrist to stop him, your balance faltering, and a tiny squeal escaped you as you teetered on the edge of the chair.

His hold on your hip was immediate, the closest thing in order to stabilize you is how you rationalized it, saving you from an imminent face-to-floor meeting.

"Sorry," you said sheepishly, a low buzz spreading from your head to the spot where his hand enclosed around. "Don't kill it."

He gave you a pointed look, but then grabbed a plastic cup by the water cooler. You missed his hands on you the second he was gone.

He crouched down to where the spider was crawling around, carefully shoveling it into the cup.

"Don't hurt its legs!"

"I feel like there is a lot of protesting coming from someone who can't even put their feet on the ground right now."

That shut you up. A soft pout found its way to your lips as you folded your arms defensively. His smirk grew at the sight, and you couldn't stop the delightful warmth that bubbled up inside your chest, sticky and potent.

"Once the spider is at a safe distance then I'll come down," you said with a shrug.

He expertly secured the paper over the clear cup's mouth, trapping the spider inside. "All clear."

You watched his hands warily, your lips forming a tight line as you stayed put, eliciting an exasperated eye roll from him.

"It's not going to hurt you."

"You don't know that."

He angled the cup towards the light, inspecting the bug with a squint.

"It's unlikely you'll ever be bitten by a spider. They aren't interested in humans. They don't seek us out like mosquitoes or ticks do." He moved the cup in your direction. "This is just a common house spider, known scientifically as Parasteatoda tepidariorum. Completely harmless."

"It doesn't look completely harmless to me," you countered, wrinkling your nose and leaning back.

You almost lost your balance. Again. His hands found your waist. Again.

"How about you come down now?"

"Right, sorry I know you're probably freaking out about my outdoor shoes on your chair."

His hand moved to grab yours as you stepped down. "I'm more concerned about the potential of you cracking your skull."

You beamed, a wide smile lighting up your features as you planted your feet firmly on the carpet. "Eh, I'm pretty much indestructible."

"Tell that to the spider."

You tried to glare at him, but you were sure it came off softer around than edges than you intended, because you weren't really annoyed. Spencer's ease in teasing you was a recent development, it had taken ages to get to this point. The roles used to be reserved, but then you fell in love with him, and now every word you spoke had been nothing but overthought and stiff.

"He is a little cute actually." You stepped closer, gingerly at that, maintaining a safe distance just in case Spencer decided to pull any funny business.

"Well, he's a she."

"Oh, how impolite of me," you said, as you crouched down to bring yourself face-to-face with the spider.

"Interestingly, the female common house spiders are known for its problem-solving abilities when capturing prey. If the first attempt doesn't work, it will try different strategies, which shows a level of adaptability and intelligence."

"Awh, she's kind of like you, isn't she?"

You wanted to slap a hand over your face. You sounded like an idiot. His eyes narrowed, and then that charming little smile broke through, a little uneven, making him all the more appealing.

"That feels offensive."

You couldn't help but laugh, your eyes crinkling in response. "It's not, I swear, that was supposed to be a compliment."

"I'd be careful with those compliments, wouldn't want to inflate my ego too much."

Maybe tomorrow you'd tell him how you feel. Probably not.

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x awkward reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x you

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hollowed-theory-hall · 10 months ago

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Sirius Black was the best adult in Harry's life and I'm forever salty that we didn't get to see more of him

So, I love Sirius Black. He's a complex and interesting character that I love dearly. He's handsome, smart, brave, not as reckless as some fanon make him out to be, and above all else, he tried his best to be a good godfather to Harry.

I truly believe Sirius could've been an amazing father figure (more than he already was) to Harry if given the proper chance. And he's a much better parent to Harry than Arthur and Molly Weasley.

Here are some quotes along with my ramblings to prove it.

So, what I'm going to cover here are some quotes from Sirius and Harry that show their dynamic and how much Sirius cared and tried to be there for Harry. Also, I think Molyl and Hermione are wrong about Sirius seeing Harry as a James replacement.

“He came back to the country just because my scar twinged. He’ll probably come bursting right into the castle if I tell him someone’s entered me in the Triwizard Tournament —”

(GoF, page 290)

Harry wrote to Sirius at the beginning of GoF about his dream with Voldemort and his scar's reaction to it. Sirius left everything immediately to return to Britain — a place where he is hunted down and is a wanted man. All because he wants to be close to Harry, so he can spring up to protect him if the need arises.

Harry is correct in his assessment here.

“Poor old Snuffles,” said Ron, breathing deeply. “He must really like you, Harry. . . . Imagine having to live off rats.”

(GoF, page 534)

Ron is absolutely right. Sirius loves Harry more than pretty much anything. He would and does go incredibly far for Harry. I don't think Molly and Hermione are right about how Sirius sees Harry as James. He just doesn't.

He doesn't treat Harry as an equal to him, but as someone he needs to protect. Someone he is responsible to protect.

He stays around Hogwarts, eating rats in GoF so he can better protect Harry. He wouldn't have done the same with James because he treated James as an equal, not as someone he needed to protect.

“It’s not my fault you haven’t been told what the Order’s doing,” said Sirius calmly. “That’s your parents’ decision. Harry, on the other hand —” “It’s not down to you to decide what’s good for Harry!” said Mrs. Weasley sharply. Her normally kindly face looked dangerous. “You haven’t forgotten what Dumbledore said, I suppose?” “Which bit?” Sirius asked politely, but with an air as though readying himself for a fight. “The bit about not telling Harry more than he needs to know,” said Mrs. Weasley, placing a heavy emphasis on the last three words. Ron, Hermione, Fred, and George’s heads turned from Sirius to Mrs. Weasley as though following a tennis rally. Ginny was kneeling amid a pile of abandoned butterbeer corks, watching the conversation with her mouth slightly open. Lupin’s eyes were fixed on Sirius. “I don’t intend to tell him more than he needs to know, Molly,” said Sirius. “But as he was the one who saw Voldemort come back” (again, there was a collective shudder around the table at the name), “he has more right than most to —” “He’s not a member of the Order of the Phoenix!” said Mrs. Weasley. “He’s only fifteen and —” “— and he’s dealt with as much as most in the Order,” said Sirius, “and more than some —” “No one’s denying what he’s done!” said Mrs. Weasley, her voice rising, her fists trembling on the arms of her chair. “But he’s still —” “He’s not a child!” said Sirius impatiently. “He’s not an adult either!” said Mrs. Weasley, the color rising in her cheeks. “He’s not James, Sirius!” “I’m perfectly clear who he is, thanks, Molly,” said Sirius coldly. “I’m not sure you are!” said Mrs. Weasley. “Sometimes, the way you talk about him, it’s as though you think you’ve got your best friend back!” “What’s wrong with that?” said Harry. “What’s wrong, Harry, is that you are not your father, however much you might look like him!” said Mrs. Weasley, her eyes still boring into Sirius. “You are still at school and adults responsible for you should not forget it!” “Meaning I’m an irresponsible godfather?” demanded Sirius, his voice rising. “Meaning you’ve been known to act rashly, Sirius, which is why Dumbledore keeps reminding you to stay at home and —” “We’ll leave my instructions from Dumbledore out of this, if you please!” said Sirius loudly.

(OotP, page 88-89)

This above quote is a long one, but I love it. I mean, this shows a big contrast between Sirius' approach to parenting and Molly's. Sirius, while not seeing Harry as his equal, does see Harry as a capable wizard who deserves to know the full picture. Sirius knows Harry would be in more danger when ignorant and wants him as safe as possible. He thinks Harry deserves to know things that pertain to him, and I have to agree with him here. Keeping Harry in the dark is what eventually cost Sirius his life.

Molly, on the other hand, is intent on keeping Harry, Hermione, and her kids ignorant. She has the same intention as Sirius: to keep them safe. But she tries to keep them safe emotionally, even when this ignorance can and does place them in physical harm's way.

And Sirius is right. Harry is capable. And a 15-year-old shouldn't be treated the same as an 11-year-old child. And let's be real, Harry was never a regular child with how he grew up, and I think Sirius sees his maturity and treats him accordingly. Sirius actually gave Harry advice to not approach danger in GOF and Harry listened to him because Sirius treated him with respect, which works best with Harry who never really had parental figures.

“I don’t know,” said Sirius slowly, “I just don’t know . . . Karkaroff doesn’t strike me as the type who’d go back to Voldemort unless he knew Voldemort was powerful enough to protect him. But whoever put your name in that goblet did it for a reason, and I can’t help thinking the tournament would be a very good way to attack you and make it look like an accident.”

(GoF, page 334)

This is an expert from the Fireplace conversation Haryr had with Sirius before the first task. Sirius shares his theories with Harry because he needs him to know who to watch out for. Because everything he does is to keep Harry safe. And this is the same approach Sirius wishes he could take with Harry in OOTP. Because he knows it works. Keeping Harry informed means that if he does put himself in danger, at least he would inform Sirius about it; Which would allow Sirius to protect him.

I'm not copying all of them, but Sirius' letters to Harry throughout GOF are so caring and sweet. Harry deserved to have more of his godfather in his life:

Nice try, Harry. I'm back in the country and well hidden. I want you to keep me posted on everything that's going on at Hogwarts. Don't use Hedwig, keep changing owls, and don't worry about me, just watch out for yourself. Don't forget what I said about your scar. Sirius

(Gof, page 240)

This treatment encourages Harry to actually share everything with him and ask him for advice. Something he doesn't do with Dumbledore ever. (Harry actually doesn't like or trust Dumbledore all that much until book 6, it's usually Hermione who trusts Dumbledore fully)

“Sirius — how’re you doing?” ... “Never mind me, how are you?” said Sirius seriously.

(GoF, page 331)

Sirius again, shows his responsibility towards Harry's well-being over his own (both here and in the above letter).

Sirius is the only adult who actually talks to Harry about the Dursleys with sympathy:

“But if they do expel me,” said Harry, quietly, “can I come back here and live with you?” Sirius smiled sadly. “We’ll see.” “I’d feel a lot better about the hearing if I knew I didn’t have to go back to the Dursleys,” Harry pressed him. “They must be bad if you prefer this place,” said Sirius gloomily.

(OotP, page 116)

We know Sirius would love nothing more than for Harry to stay with him. He's lonely and bored at Grimmauld and would love to have Harry there. But at the same time, he doesn't want Harry expelled from Hogwarts and is trying not to be hopeful for it.

Sirius understands the Dursleys are awful, he just know the full scope, but it's more of a reaction than we get from most adults in this series. To me, it looks like Sirius is annoyed by how limited he is in helping Harry. He can't really do much about the Dursleys or their status as Harry's guardians.

“So you want me to say I’m not going to take part in the defense group?” he muttered finally. “Me? Certainly not!” said Sirius, looking surprised. “I think it’s an excellent idea!” “You do?” said Harry, his heart lifting. “Of course I do!” said Sirius. “D’you think your father and I would’ve lain down and taken orders from an old hag like Umbridge?” “But — last term all you did was tell me to be careful and not take risks —” “Last year all the evidence was that someone inside Hogwarts was trying to kill you, Harry!” said Sirius impatiently. “This year we know that there’s someone outside Hogwarts who’d like to kill us all, so I think learning to defend yourselves properly is a very good idea!” “And if we do get expelled?” Hermione asked, a quizzical look on her face. “Hermione, this whole thing was your idea!” said Harry, staring at her. “I know it was. . . . I just wondered what Sirius thought,” she said, shrugging. “Well, better expelled and able to defend yourselves than sitting safely in school without a clue,” said Sirius.

(OotP, page 371)

I love this scene as well. Sirius cares for Harry's safety first and foremost. Harry being safe is his top priority at every given point. And he's reasonable and logical and treats Harry like someone to protect, not like a friend.

Like, Harry when he has a problem and needs advice throughout books 4 and 5, he calls Sirius. He's Harry's go-to parental figure for advice, and Sirius takes his rule seriously. He gives the advice he honestly thinks is best and ensures Harry's safety and continued survival to the best of his ability.

“It matters because we don’t want to draw attention to the fact that Harry is having visions of things that are happening hundreds of miles away!” said Sirius angrily. “Have you any idea what the Ministry would make of that information?” Fred and George looked as though they could not care less what the Ministry made of anything. Ron was still white-faced and silent. Ginny said, “Somebody else could have told us. . . . We could have heard it somewhere other than Harry. . . .”

(OotP, pages 476-477)

Again, Harry's safety is Sirius' first priority above everyone else. Harry's happiness and privacy also take precedence over most other things. He doesn't want Harry under even more scrutiny from the ministry and the Wizarding World and protecting him from that is just as important to him.

To me, it feels like people who say he treats Harry like a James replacement didn't read the books....

“It must have been the aftermath of the vision, that’s all,” said Sirius. “You were still thinking of the dream or whatever it was and —” “It wasn’t that,” said Harry, shaking his head. “It was like something rose up inside me, like there’s a snake inside me —” “You need to sleep,” said Sirius firmly. “You’re going to have breakfast and then go upstairs to bed, and then you can go and see Arthur after lunch with the others. You’re in shock, Harry; you’re blaming yourself for something you only witnessed, and it’s lucky you did witness it or Arthur might have died. Just stop worrying. . . .” He clapped Harry on the shoulder and left the pantry, leaving Harry standing alone in the dark.

(OotP, pages 480-481)

And I love this too. How he tries to comfort Harry and make everything easier for him. When the rest of the Order were gossiping about how dangerous his connection to Voldemort is, Sirius is honestly trying to get Harry to worry about it less.

He might be lying here, but he is right about sending Harry to sleep after a sleepless night like they had. And he is right about Harry being in shock and needing the rest. I just, really like how much Sirius cares. Harry just doesn't have other adults in his life who care for him like Sirius does.

But some part of him realized, even as he fought to break free from Lupin, that Sirius had never kept him waiting before. . . . Sirius had risked everything, always, to see Harry, to help him. . . . If Sirius was not reappearing out of that archway when Harry was yelling for him as though his life depended on it, the only possible explanation was that he could not come back. . . . That he really was . . .

(OotP, page 808)

This. Scene. Just kills me.

Like, Harry understands how much Sirius cares about him, and how Sirius always puts him first. He knows the only way Sirius won't drop everything to come and when Harry calls for him is if he can't.

Because Sirius escaped Azkaban when he realized Harry might be in danger from Peter, not for his own safety, but for Harry’s. Sirius dropped everything and moved to live in a cave and eat rats when Harry's scar hurt. He stuck around Hogwarts and Hogsmead during the Triwizard Tournament, when it was crawling with ministry officials because Harry might need him. He was willing to do so much for Harry. And Harry knew this.

I think, given time, they could've had an amazing dynamic, and I wish we had more of Sirius and his care for Harry. That we saw more of his approach to parenting Harry.

#harry potter #harry potter thoughts #hp theory #harry potter theory #hp #hp thoughts #sirius black #good godfather sirius black #hollowedtheory #sirius black was a better parent figure for harry than the weasleys #pro sirius black #I also wanna talk about how smart sirius is #but that'll be another post

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superhaught · 10 months ago

Text

Gym Class Heroes (Chapter Two)

Pairing: Regina George x Reader

Warnings: homophobia

Word Count: ~2300, Part 2/?

Part 1

Regina pursues her interest in protecting reader as she recovers from the basketball to the head.

Turns out, you did indeed have a mild concussion from the basketball incident, so you took the weekend and the following Monday off of school to rest and recuperate.

You were napping when your mom knocked lightly on your bedroom door and then came in. You woke up and saw that she had an armful of things.

“One of your school friends stopped by and brought your homework from today plus a card and some snacks, how sweet!”

You sat up and rubbed the sleep from your eyes, “one of my friends? Do you know who?”

“Oh I don’t know, sweetheart. She was blonde and tall and pretty.”

You couldn’t help your face from lighting up, “gimme the card!”

Your mom handed you everything and you tore open the envelope. It was a simple “get well soon” card but what you were most interested in was the handwritten note. The writer’s penmanship was exquisite, not that you were particularly surprised by that fact. The card smelled like her perfume, as if she had spritzed some on. She’s unreal, you thought. Fragrant notes of orange blossom and rose filled your nostrils and it was addictive.

The note read: Hey you, I hope you’re doing okay and aren’t too worried about getting behind on schoolwork. If you need help getting your homework done, I know a guy. Anyways, Shane got three days of suspension, which isn’t enough, imo. Text me if ur bored <3 R

She wrote her phone number at the end. You giggled and reread it in full, going as far as kicking your feet excitedly under your blankets.

“She seems like a sweet girl,” your mom pointed out.

Her voice brought you back to reality. You cleared your throat, “mom, my head is kind of hurting, can I go back to sleep?”

“Oh yeah, of course honey! Get some rest.”

“Thank you,” you set the card down next to you and laid back down as your mom left and once she closed the door behind her, you grabbed your phone and began typing a message to Regina’s number.

“Hey, ‘R’” you wrote.

The message delivered and the little typing-indicator dots showed up right away, then her message back came through, “I’m glad you didn’t keep me waiting ;)” then she sent a second message, “how are you feeling?”

Being stunned, you didn’t respond to Regina’s text right away. Your heart was pounding. You couldn’t believe that Regina, the queen bee of the school, the most popular girl, the previously-believed-to-be-completely-and-totally-straight-girl, was asking you out.

Another text from her popped up, “well don’t leave me hanging”

You decided that you wanted to call her. Maybe you felt like you needed to in order to confirm that this was actually real. You called and it rang twice and then you heard her voice through the phone.

She chuckled as she spoke, “hi…”

“Hi…” you said back, suddenly forgetting what words were.

“What did you want to say that couldn’t have been sent over text?”

“I just… you really want to date me?”

“Yes. I do. Is that really so shocking?”

“A little, yeah.”

“Well listen, I’ve had my eye on you for a while now. And, as I’m sure you are aware, I’m used to getting what I want.”

You shuddered and then replied, “Regina… I’d love to go out with you.”

The two of you continued to talk on the phone well into the night. It was Regina who insisted that you hang up and go to bed to get some good sleep before coming to school tomorrow. The blonde also offered to pick you up in the morning and drive you to school herself. You, of course, accepted.

You went to sleep feeling lighter than air.

In the morning, you got ready for school with more zeal than you ever had in your life. Your mother wondered out loud whether you had been replaced overnight by an entirely different person. You just smiled and said that you were happy and feeling better.

There was a car horn honk from your driveway and your mom kissed your cheek goodbye as you left your home.

Regina was sitting in her black Jeep, using her mirror to fix her hair. She smiled at you as you came out of your house and approached the passenger side of her car. She leaned and reached over, cracking the door open for you and then offering you her hand to hold as you stepped up into the car.

You sat down and tossed your backpack into the backseat.

She smiled again, looking you over, “you look so cute!” Regina then gently caressed her thumb over the bruise on your forehead from the basketball, “and this is looking much better.”

You looked her up and down as well and smiled, “you look incredible…”

“Thanks, baby.”

She had called you ‘baby’ on the phone the night before as well. The affection made your heart flutter.

She continued, “get buckled, let’s go.”

Regina drove you both to school and parked in her spot in the student lot. It wasn’t an assigned parking spot or anything, it was just the closest spot to her preferred entrance and it was hers by way of having scolded anyone who had ever dared to park there.

When you got out of the car, Regina walked over to you and took your hand in hers.

Surprised, you said, “you know, we haven’t actually gone out yet…”

“I know that. Do you mind if I hold your hand anyway? Do I have to wait before I can show you off?”

“I don’t mind,” you smiled.

Regina walked you into the school and immediately, all eyes were on the two of you. You half expected Regina to drop your hand but she didn’t. You glanced over at her and she was proud. Beaming even.

She squeezed your hand a little tighter and looked at you, “you okay?”

You nodded your head, “I am.”

Regina went with you to your locker and leaned against the adjacent locker while you put your backpack away. Then Regina noticed that you had a small magnetic mirror in your locker and she came up behind you and wrapped her arms around you from behind and looked into the mirror.

“We look good together, don’t we?”

You looked at the image in the mirror and thought she was right. With her bright blonde locks draped over your shoulders, her manicured fingers touching your neck, her cheek pressed against yours, it was a dream come true.

“It’s way too easy for me to get lost in you…”

“I feel the same way, baby.”

At that point, Gretchen and Karen approached, locating Regina as if they had a homing beacon to her. Gretchen flashed you a polite smile and said, “you look mostly recovered!”

Karen stared at you with wide eyes and said, “don’t worry, I’ve been knocked out by a basketball too! It happens to everyone.”

You thought about objecting to her statement in some way but then you just nodded.

Regina grabbed your hand again and touched your cheek, turning you to face her, “you’ll sit with us at lunch, right?”

“Oh sure! If you want me to…”

“Of course, silly! Well, you know where to find me, then. I’ll see you later.” Regina pulled you into a hug and squeezed you tightly against her chest. And for the first time in your life, you felt genuinely wanted.

The next two days went by fast. Regina took over driving you to and from school and your mom thanked her profusely for giving her a break. You joined Regina, Gretchen and Karen for lunch, sometimes you were also joined by Cady, Janis and Damien, now that things had gotten less tense between those two trios in the aftermath of the junior year dramatics.

Regina was extremely attentive to you. You naturally fell into habits of taking care of each other, Regina looking out for you as you continued to recover from your concussion, and you paying attention to her chronic pain flare ups and making sure she was monitoring her POTS symptoms.

You and Regina agreed to go on your first official date together that weekend, but she certainly was not hesitating to claim you as hers in the meantime. In those 48 hours, there was already an instagram and twitter account dedicated to shipping the two of you and you overheard a lot of talk about your sudden closeness and Regina’s obvious protection over you.

It all came to a head the day that Shane Oman was back at school.

At lunch, Regina showed up to the table a few minutes later than what was typical for her, and she was dragging Shane by his shirtsleeve until she shoved him right in front of you.

You set your lunch down and looked at him, then Regina, who shoved him again and said, “well, go ahead.”

Shane rolled his eyes, “fine… I’m sorry…”

Regina’s arms were crossed but she smirked a little, clearly proud of herself.

“Sorry that you’re a disgusting fucking carpetmuncher!” Shane finished, yelling loud enough for the entire cafeteria to hear and immediately cease their conversations, turning all of their attention to your table.

Gretchen covered her own mouth in shock. Janis and Damien's jaws both dropped open. Karen was staring at something on the ceiling. Cady whispered “oh my gosh” under her breath.

You just froze and stared.

Regina lurched forward and gripped the back of Shane’s shirt collar, pulling him backwards by it in a swift motion and basically choking him with the fabric, “what the fuck did you just say?” she growled.

Shane coughed, “I… I… said… carpetmuncher… and I’m not sorry… and I don’t believe for one second… that you’re falling for this… this… dyke!”

“Oh? You don’t?” Regina pushed Shane down to the ground and he collapsed to his knees and rubbed his neck as Regina let him go. Regina walked over to you and took your face in her hands. One second, her face was red with fury, but when she looked down at you, she immediately softened. She pulled you close to her and then pressed her lips to yours.

It wasn’t how you imagined how your first kiss with Regina would have gone, but you wouldn’t have changed anything about it.

She kissed you so tenderly. Your senses were completely overwhelmed by the softness of her lips, the taste of her lip gloss, the smell of her hair, the feel of her tongue just teasing your bottom lip. Regina held the kiss for a long time and you held her waist.

You knew everyone’s eyes (and cameras) were on you, but you couldn’t have cared less. You had Regina, and that’s all that mattered.

When Regina pulled away, she kept eye contact with you for a moment and smiled, assuring you that she kissed you because she wanted to, not just to prove a point. She came back to give you one more quick and gentle kiss before returning her attention to the pathetic man on the ground.

“Next time you want to say anything derogatory to my baby here, you better be fucking prepared to say it to me, too, Shane. And I don’t think I need to spell out the absolute shithole you will find yourself in if you do that.”

Shane stared at her with wide, terrified, eyes.

“Now get the fuck out of my sight.” Regina added.

Shane scrambled to his feet and sprinted out of the cafeteria as Regina took her seat next to you with closed eyes and exhaled a breath through her nose to calm herself.

You leaned your head on her shoulder and whispered, “thank you, Gina.”

She turned her head and kissed your temple, “of course, baby.”

#regina george #regina x reader #regina george x reader #regina george fanfic #mean girls #mean girls 2024 #regina george renee rapp #reneé rapp #my fanfiction #my writing #original writing #gym class heroes

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hope-you-brought-kneepads-bitch · 8 months ago

Text

Club Fun

A/n: this is a draft that I’ve had for a while and I just kept putting it off posting because I wasn’t sure I liked it but I wanted to put it out and see what other people think 💕 thanks for reading I appreciate it 💕

(This also isn’t proofread at all soooo I’m sorry for any mistakes)

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, adult themes and Nat being a pain in the ass

"Come on Y/n how bad could a gentleman's club be?" Nat pushed you through the doors even with you groaning and pushing back against her

"Nat I have a literal alien in my body and I don't know what will set them off" you felt a grumble in your head

"I am not a prepubescent teenager Y/n I am sophisticated"

"Only because you can't survive without me out of my body" you grumbled back and Nat really wished she could understand what you were saying to the alien

You looked up and sighed "okay let's go in"

Nat smiled wide and guided you through the small hallway to the second bouncer "hey we're Nat and Y/n, we have a table booked under Tony Stark?"

The man looked you both over the at the list seeing your names and allowing you past "please keep your hands to yourselves and don't try and get any dancer's numbers because they'll just laugh at you" he laughed and you rolled your eyes turning to Nat

"does he think we're kids? Pretty sure I can control myself around some scantily clad women"

Nat scoffed "talk about yourself Y/n, I see a hot woman staring at me I'll give her money my number, my soul anything the sexy lady wants"

You giggled "you'll get us kicked out the moment we sit down at the booth"

Nat ignored you as she eyed up a waitress walking past who gave her a wink in response "yeah yeah whatever I'm gonna go and get some free drinks" she patted you on the back leaving you alone, well with the alien obviously

"We are being stared at"

You glanced around not noticing anything "what are you talking about?"

They turned your body around suddenly nearly falling over before you managed to steady yourself "dude what the fuck, you can't just turn me around like that!" You whisper shouted at them but they ignored you

"There is a redhead lady who is looking at us and biting her lip, I think she is older than us" you were pointed towards said woman and she gave you a wink

"Oh you're right, do you think she wants us to go over?" Before you could say anything else the woman in question walked over to you "hi pretty girl, do you need some help? You look a little lost"

The sweetness in her voice made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and your mouth go dry "oh-er no-no thanks my friend is just getting drinks" you glanced at Nat who was very much not getting your drinks but instead was making out with the waitress she followed after

"It seems you're friend is a little busy right now, I'll take you to your booth" she pulled you towards a booth, her hand gripping your own sweaty mess of a hand.

You were near enough thrown into the booth and the woman followed close near enough sat in your lap "how about I get us some shots? They should loosen your cute tongue"

"...okay" you whispered and the women smiled kissing you on the cheek turning around and singling for a waiter to come over with their tray of shots

"How many miss Scarlet?" The man asked and she told him to put the tray down "thanks Brucie"

He left without another word and she took a glass from the tray pointing it towards you "here you go pretty girl" she tipped the drink towards your mouth and you opened your mouth taking the drink "good?"

You nodded licking the left over liquid from your lips "yeah it's good"

The woman's piercing green eyes were locked onto yours sitting in silence for a few moments before she spoke again "can I interest you in a dance?" She asked sweetly and you shook your head maybe a little too much making her pout

"Awe are you sure? I can relive all of that clear tension coming off of your shoulders, you're too pretty to be stressed"

She stood up bringing you with her and walking off towards Nat who managed to pull her face away from the waitress long enough to talk to you

"Y/n! This place is amazing! This is Maria, she's great" her ragged breath made you laugh "I'm sure she is amazing Nat"

Maria looked behind you to the woman and winked "so Scarlet, is this your new little conquest?"

So her name was Scarlet, or maybe just her stage name, you were certain no one gave their real names out, but this Maria did? She's not a dancer though you guessed?

Scarlet's arms wrapped around your waist getting your attention and she chuckled when you jumped "don't think too hard there pretty girl" she looked to Maria "I offered a dance but she turned me down Mia"

You couldn't see her face but you knew she was pouting about you refusing a dance "Y/n you can't refuse a dance! That's the whole point of the club!"

"I know but-

"No buts Y/n! Go on Scarlet take her to a room and help her relax" Nat demanded ignoring your embarrassed face

"Whatever the costumer wants they get Natalia" Scarlet smirked grabbing your hand leading you through the club away from the safety of people and noise for a quiet private room

"You need to relax honey, I promise you're okay I'll take such good care of you" she purred sitting you down on the couch and you finally looked at her properly seeing the dark red blazer wrapped around her body

"Y/n your body is heating up is everything okay?"

You couldn't answer them instead watching Scarlet unbutton her blazer dropping it to the floor

"Holy shit" you whispered letting your eyes wonder over her lingerie barley covering her body, it was useless being there in all honesty, her breasts were practically spilling out and that's where you met her finger pointing to her face "my eyes are up here princess" she chuckled and your eyes snapped up

"S-sorry!"

She giggled coming towards you and straddling your lap placing a leg on either side "don't say sorry for admiring beauty honey, let's start with your name again"

"Y-y/n" you whispered feeling your hands unintentionally land on her thighs and she gasped "getting bold Y/n? I like it"

"You were moving too slow so I needed to help you Y/n"

You knew they where right, you had a woman, a hot woman you may add on your lap wearing the hottest thing you’ve ever seen and yeah sure it’s part of her job but you could have fun right?

“Get out of your pretty head Y/n” she brought you out of your thoughts and jumped at how you could feel her breath on your face as she whispered in your ear “so Y/n are you going to tell me what you I can do for you?

“This is all new to me so I don’t know what to ask for”

Scarlet looked over you and your slightly trembling body “how about a kiss?" She didn't really wait for answer before kissing you on the lips softly, you remained frozen until you were mentally slapped by your symbiote

"Y/n I do not get aroused or feel sexual tension but even I am suffering through this air of arousal, kiss her back"

You relaxed into the kiss sighing as you kissed her back, feeling Venom slip into your body and elongate your tongue and force her mouth open slipping the long tongue inside and wrapping around her own, Scarlet either didn't realise or didn't care because she moaned into the kiss trying to gain some kind of control

When you both had to pull away for some air Scarlet was shocked seeing the tongue lull out of your mouth "what the hell is that? Looks like your tongue had an erection" when she laughed and didn't run away from you or slap you your heart grew ten sizes, it was nice you guessed if still little strange.

"Can you even talk with that thing?" she giggled and wen to kiss you again but you pulled away letting your tongue return to its normal size

"Everthing okay?" She placed a kiss on your cheek as a reassurance and you smiled

"Have you ever heard of symbiotes?"

She sat back on your lap thinking about it "like that alien that tried to destroy the world? Are you that alien?"

You shook your head "no! No at all, I was just infect-sorry chosen to be a host for one...do you want to meet them?"

Scarlet had to bite her lip to keep herself from laughing "well this is nothing like my normal encounters here but sure, let's see the little alien"

Venom didn't need to be told twice and their tendrils appeared forming a their head smiling at Scarlet

"You are a very pretty lady miss Scarlet, I cannot feel aroused or these silly human feelings but you have a hot body and Y/n agrees"

"Venom! Just stop talking" you groaned trying to get away but you were still trapped under Scarlet's thighs

"God this is so weird, it's a good thing you're hot" she lent forward placing a kiss on your neck and then biting you there, you looked at Venom whispering "go back"

They looked at you funny so you said it again "it's a private moment now Venom"

They understood and retreated back into your body quickly and you focused back on the feeling of her soft lips on your neck.

******************************************************************

“My lips are chapped Nat” Maria pulled away from Nat who still tried chasing after her “oh come on, they’re not that bad”

The waitress gently pushed her away “you’re insatiable, I like it, give me a few minutes and I’ll take you somewhere nice”

‘Where?” She questioned

“To the best room we have, it’s got a mini fridge” Maria kissed Nat again softly refusing to let her take over the kiss again “plus we can watch the cameras for your friend”

Nat’s eyes widened “there’s cameras in the room?”

Maria laughed “obviously, how else are we supposed to protect our girls?”

She lead Nat through the club into a closed off area and through a door to a room with a couch, a mini fridge and the cameras she mentioned

“This looks like a pervs hangout” Nat commented but Maria just rolled her eyes pushing the redhead to the couch “just sit there and be quiet, if that’s something you can do”

"I prefer being loud" Nat winked

"I can’t wait to prove that later" Maria took some wine out of the fridge and sat next to the woman giving her a kiss on the cheek “okay let’s get this started" she turned on the Tv changing the channel through the rooms before finding you and Scarlet

"Ugh boring they're just talking" nat looked through the screen, she hoped she could read lips so she knew what you were saying, when she got a closer look she noticed Venom's head at the side of you "what the fuck?!"

Maria put down the wine quickly looking at these screen "what's that?! Is that a puppet? Does your friend have a puppet kink? A little odd but I'm sure Scarlet can work with that" Maria was laughing but Nat only let out a small chuckle too focused on why the hell Venom decided to make themselves known, suddenly Scarlet lent forward kissing and started kissing your neck

"The puppet worked" Maria laughed and Nat managed a small laugh "hah yeah sure" she turned the TV off instead not wanting to focus on you and your weird alien friend, she had no idea why Scarlet didn't mind it though

"Well they're boring now"

******************************************************************

Scarlet's lips moved up to your ear "you're not the only one with a secret princess"

Your smile dropped and you pulled away suddenly but Scarlet just laughed "it's okay honey nothing horrible, do you know what a coven is?"

You flexed your hands on her thighs and swallowed nervously "like witches?"

She smiled "yes"

"Are you a witch?"

She simply nodded and flashed her red eyes making you gasp "shit that's so cool!" You were memorised, maybe a little scared since witches were seen as strange or evil but a dancer at a gentleman's club couldn't be evil...right?

"I'm not evil honey, just someone who gets bored easily and needs something to do"

Did she read your mind?? You looked at her surprised and she giggled "yes princess I can read minds and yours has been a delight to listen too"

That's so weird but cool as well, so what so we do now?"

"Well, my real name is Wanda to start with, I use Scarlet because the guys like it, and for security of course"

You were really trying to listen honestly you were but your eyes kept flickering down to her chest

"You're not listening to a thing I'm saying are you?" Wanda laughed using her finger to lift up your chin "it's okay, I know what you really want" she lent forward to kiss you but a bell went off stopping her in her tracks "oooh sorry princess times up"

She tried pulling away but your fingers dug into her thighs keeping her there "but you were going to kiss me again?”

She raised her eyebrow and smiled at you "I know, I love leaving my clients on edge, it guarantees they come back"

This time Venom growled and appeared again "that seems a little unfair Wanda, we showed you me, I think we deserve a treat"

She just shrugged managing to pull away from you standing up and covering herself with her robe "are you saying you don't want to see me again?"

Both you and Venom were confused

"Because if I slept with you that's what would happen, and I'm quite enjoying your company"

"She is teasing us Y/n"

You agreed "she is"

Wanda watched you as you were thinking, and you knew she was reading your mind "you have some hot thoughts in there Y/n, a stark difference from when we first started, now come on, your friend will be waiting for you"

You sighed reluctantly getting up and going past Wanda when she gave you a small smack on your ass "hey!"

She laughed "I couldn't help myself honey"

****************************************************************

"Nice to finally see you two out of the room, did you give her the full dance Scarlet?" Maria laughed glancing between the two of you and the redhead smiled wrapping her fingers around your waist "she had a wonderful time Maria, she'll be coming back tomorrow night"

Nat gasped and you looked at her "you're coming back?! Wow Y/n, she must've given you the full treatment eh?"

When your face blushed Wanda kissed your cheek "you're so cute malen'kiy you can have my number, so call me when you're here tomorrow and I'll come and get you"

You nodded and went to kiss Wanda but you weren't too sure until Wanda pulled you in close kissing you hard

"Oooooohhhh!" Nat exclaimed excitedly "Maria did you see that?! My little virgin is getting somewhere!"

You instantly pulled back going bright red "Nat! I'm not a virgin! I've slept with loads of women"

Both women laughed and Wanda tried hiding her own smirk "it's okay princess, I'm an excellent teacher"

You groaned pulling away from the woman "come on Nat before I sink into the ground from embarrassment"

Nat giggled and kissed Maria one more time "so it look's like I'll see you tomorrow?"

"I'll have the usual room ready" she winked in response kissing the redhead again

"Do I get a good-bye kiss?" Wanda pouted and you rolled your eyes walking back to her "I never expected this coming into a strip club" holding the woman's face in your hands you kissed Wanda softly before pulling away then kissing her nose

"Hmm you're my favourite client malen'kiy"

"I have no idea what that Russian word means but I hope it's good"

Wanda giggled kissing the side of your head "Ty takaya ocharovatel'naya printsessa, dumayu, ya ostavlyu tebya ty moya"

You heard Nat soft gasp from the side of you and you whipped your head around to her "did she say something shocking?"

Wanda looked to Nat shaking her head and Nat nodded "just some sickly sweet thing about you, typical for you to come into a gentleman's cub for a dance from a stripper to come out with a potential partner"

You shrugged "hey I can't help it if I have incredible game"

The group burst out laughing even Wanda joined in making you pout

"Y/n I love you I really do but you're really terrible with women, I'm surprised Wanda actually made out with you"

You blushed hard leaner closer into Wanda "yeah well fuck you Nat" okay it wasn't the best comeback but its the only one you could think of

"It's okay Y/n I thought that was a very good comeback" Wanda kissed your cheek "okay honey, I've got to go back to work"

You started to talk back but a finger shushed your lips "I still need money my love but I want you back here tomorrow okay?"

You nodded "I'm definitely coming back all the time Wanda, I'll sit in the corner with a snack"

Wanda held in a giggle rubbing your shoulder "oh honey I don't think my clients would enjoy that"

"Then they'd to keep their hands off of you" you retorted and Wanda laughed "my little possessive girl don't worry, you'll get the special private dances"

It was your turn to blush hard again and you had to keep yourself steady "o-oh okay cool yeah! Great"

Nat laughed “you’re a mess, come on idiot let’s go”

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