#here's a tag to take up space and bring me closer to the 'see more' button so i dont expose too much info

[azullumi]

"once more to see you" ; aventurine

summary — to him, love was like a religion waiting to be discovered and he’ll find god in the way the sun looks on your skin; alternatively, aventurine thinks he’s rotten work and tiring to take care of but not to you, not if it's him (please get the reference).

pairing — aventurine (w/ gender-neutral reader)

tags — established relationship (but aventurine wants to de-establish it), somewhat fluff, slight angst with comfort, never proofread never what?!!, 1.3k ; ficlet

note — 2.1 broke me (the whole quest knocked at the door of my house, shook my hands, congratulated me, and invited itself into my home before pouring water on my face, slapping me, throwing me around, and left with the door open, all the while, my family watched). this is day 1 of writing for aventurine until i have him.

“you have a lot of moles.” his voice, despite a gentle whisper, tears through the silence of the night like a drop of water that ruptured and disturbed the surface of the pond. “especially here.” he gently taps on your skin; they seem like stars, he swallows the words back down. 

you feel aventurine’s finger trace on the back of your neck and the curve of your shoulders, seemingly drawing—or connecting something. it was ticklish, the way he gently drags his hand and ghosts over your skin, a soft laugh slipping past your lips (you’ll capture his touch on your skin as if you were a sinner remembering how forgiveness tasted on your lips). there was something intimate that lingers in the air between you two as you lay in his bed with him, a fleeting moment that will be inked into your mind. 

(the both of you leave your titles behind, mixed together with the scattered objects on the floor, laid on the cold ground to be picked up and worn later like a shiny medal even if you weren’t proud to have them.)

“they say it’s where your lover kissed you the most in your past life.” you stir in your position as you speak, coming to face him and meet his pretty jewel-like eyes—how alluring it was, painted with vivid colors yet it never shines. the sound of mirth laughter bubbles from his throat, a pleasant melody to your ears.

he asks, curiosity tracing the tone of his voice, “and from where did you even hear that?” and you shrug, bringing your form closer to him as you seek for more warmth, “i can’t recall. perhaps i heard it from topaz or maybe from one of the members of the ipc? they’re the only ones i often see and talk to.”

“the doctor?” he wraps his arm around your figure, his hand settling on the small of your back.

“that man will only scorn at that idea and call it stupid. he’ll most likely say that ‘only fools would believe such concepts.’” you mimic the way the esteemed doctor spoke, from the serious expression that he always don on his face to the deepening of his voice. your seemingly successful imitation earned a chuckle from the blonde-haired man before you.

“i’m sure he will.”

silence falls between you two and you took this time to adore each and every line of his being. a few strands of hair fall over his eyes—beautiful, captivating, mesmerizing, you could list out every word to describe his eyes but it would never be enough. you had always wondered why he would hide it until you witnessed the reason why he does so. 

aventurine seems to study your expression at the same also, a soft look on his face as he did, and you can’t help but be curious. “what are you thinking about?” you ask him, breaking the silence that nurtured itself in the space between you and him.

you, he wishes to answer. how you look at this moment in his embrace: you were wearing one of his shirts, albeit, not exactly to your size but you insisted, saying that you liked it as it smelled like him. how gentle, loving, adoring, you were everything; he looks and thinks of you as if you were his everything (he doesn’t deserve you). but he doesn’t say it—the thought weighs too heavily on his mind, claws at his throat, and suffocates him—, instead he utters something entirely different that creates a shift in the air between you two. 

“i don’t think i can do this.” he turns his head to look away from you, staring at the ceiling instead. it seems to extend itself far and far away from him.

the horrible part of being human is the tendency for destruction that lies in your bones. stained palms, calloused pads, despite the gentleness of your touch and the comfort of your caress. the desire to devour flesh and bones, to understand the underlying thoughts and meanings behind words and unexpressed feelings by consuming them. to submerge and drown in the depths of one's despair and desire (too close that the line blurs into one). the horrible part of being him was his tendency to destroy—hesitation and doubt lies in his being and aches at his chest, tugging on his heart’s strings, and settles on his throat—, it’s not like he doesn’t want to hold you, it’s just that he can’t.

“do what?”

“this.” you know exactly what he was referring to, know what he’s afraid of. he has laid himself bare and vulnerable in front of you countless of times that you have memorized the constellations that adorns his skin. you know him, you have known him enough to recognize the fear that tugs on his voice and see the walls that he tries to build up in front of you. you know him enough to know what thoughts are plaguing his mind.

“why do you think so?”

“don’t you think i’m too much to take care of?” he tries not to choke on his words and bite his tongue, careful not to let his voice crack lest he crumbles underneath your caress. i am undeserving of it. worthless. failure. selfish. discarded. coward. loser. nothing. you are bound to leave. 

“not for me.” you caress his cheek and guide him to look at you—instead of the ceiling that seems to appear farther than it originally was in each passing second as the walls glean over him like a shadow—, to meet your gaze and see the sincerity that lurks deep within. “never will i get tired of you. so, let me carry your burden.”

he takes a few seconds to answer, uncertainty lingering in his tone: “it’s not yours to have.”

“it may not be.” you answer with no hesitation, “but it doesn’t mean that you must shoulder them alone.”

he opens his mouth to speak but unable to find the words to say, he closes them. there was a moment of stillness shared between you two. comfort, relief, assurance seeps into the ache of his bones and you say something too heavy even for this steady and silent night to hold, the words too much to be held—light spills in like a flood as if it was pouring out from the sun itself.

“i love you.”

“you utter such words as if it’s something easy for you.” as if loving him was just as simple as waking up in the morning and adoring the way the honey-light hugs your form as the dust settles in the corner of your room. when he’s stripped of everything and left with nothing, would you still love him the same? would you still kiss him as gently as you did? would you still hold the shards of his form even if it makes your hand bleed? 

you spoke in a gentle yet firm croon, gaze unwavering, “because it is.”

you see the falter in his expression: his face, that once was crumpled, relaxed and so did his gaze soften. and you smile at him with only adoration in your eyes—like a devout follower to a divine being. “are you still afraid?”

“i don’t know.” he whispers.

“it’s alright. you have all the time in the world.” your hand weaves itself into his own, fingers lacing with one another, and you gently squeeze. it was a form of reassurance, a way of telling him that you’re here with him through all of it.

the warmth has settled in your being and you spill yourself into the cracks of his vulnerability. “i love you.” you say once more and you kiss the mark on his neck—lingering and soft as if you wish that it would take all his hurt away. the way he shudders underneath your touch, the hitch of his breath soon followed by a gentle sigh as he cradles you closer to him tells you everything that you wish to hear.

for once, he sleeps as if he had nothing to carry, nothing that shackles him to the stars that forsakes him.

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

[sugugasm]

BET | love and deepspace

⟡ tags : underground boxer! sylus + reader — sylus isn’t afraid of going all in when it comes to you.

ミ★ content warning : fem! reader uses she/her prns, mentions of blood & injuries, mentions of female anatomy as well as male anatomy, oral fem! receive, gentle to rough sex, pet names like bby, dove, kitten, honey, 5.0K WORD COUNT

you step into the dimly lit underground boxing gym, the air thick with the scent of sweat, cigarette smoke, and leather. it’s a seedy place, hidden in the heart of the city’s most notorious neighborhood, where the law doesn’t dare to tread. the crowd tonight is a mix of rough characters - bikers with gang patches on their jackets, local gangsters with glares and expensive watches, shady high-rollers in suits looking to place big bets on the illegal fights.

as you navigate through the throng of people, you spot him in the corner, preparing for his match. sylus - the man who happened to be your ex-boyfriend . . oh, and only the most feared bare-knuckled boxer in the underground circuit. he was a sight to behold, all rippling muscles and newfound tattoos, with messy silver hair that gleamed under the fluorescent lights. you watch as he methodically wraps his hands, his intense red eyes focused on the task.

your history with sylus is complicated, to say the least. you met him two years ago at a biker rally, drawn to his bad-boy charm and undeniable charisma. he swept you off your feet with his daredevil antics on his custom harley and his smooth talking ways. but sylus’s world was always filled with danger, violence, and illegal activities. as the leader of onychinus, the city’s most notorious motorcycle club, he ran an empire built on illicit evol weapons, protocore deals, and underground fighting.

at first, the thrill of it all was intoxicating - the adrenaline rush of riding on the back of his bike, the wild parties at the onychinus clubhouse, watching him dominate in the ring. but as time went on, you grew tired of the constant chaos and the fear that one day, sylus’s risky lifestyle would catch up to him. you wanted stability, a future - things that sylus scoffed at. ‘i live in the moment, babe,’ he would say with that infuriating smirk. ‘and right now, all i want is you.’

but it wasn’t enough. six months ago, after a particularly brutal fight that left sylus battered and bleeding, you reached your breaking point. you told him you couldn’t watch him destroy himself anymore, that you needed more than he could give you. sylus, stubborn and proud as ever, refused to change. ‘this is who i am,’ he growled. ‘so take it or leave it.’ so you left, walking away from the man you loved, determined to build a life free from the violence and uncertainty.

now, seeing him again after all this time, you feel a mix of emotions stirring within you. anger, hurt, frustration . . . but also a undeniable pull of attraction and longing. as if sensing your presence, sylus glances up, his red eyes locking with yours. a slow, confident smirk spreads across his handsome face as he saunters over to you, the crowd parting before him.

“well, well. look who it is,” he drawls, looking you up and down appreciatively. “didn’t expect to see you here tonight, [★]. come to watch me dominate the ring as usual?”

you scoff and cross your arms, determined not to let him see how much his presence affects you. “i’m not here for you, sylus. i’m just here to collect on some bets.”

he chuckles, a deep, rich sound that sends shivers down your spine. “sure you are, sweetheart. keep telling yourself that.”

sylus takes a step closer, invading your personal space. he smells like musk and sandalwood, a scent that brings back memories of stolen moments and passionate nights. “i miss you, you know,” he murmurs, his voice low and intimate. “everything’s been so boring without you around to keep me on my toes.”

you try to stay strong, but you can feel your resolve wavering. damn him and his charm. “i’m not here to rehash the past, sylus. what do you want?”

his eyes glint with a challenge. “make a bet with me - when i win the championship belt tonight, you give me another shot. a chance to prove that we’re meant to be together.”

you laugh in disbelief. “you can’t be serious. we’re done, sy. i’m not falling for your games again.”

“who says it’s a game?” he counters, his expression turning serious. “i know i messed up, [★]. i wasn’t ready before, but i am now. i want you back in my life. i need you.”

you hesitate, torn between your lingering feelings and your better judgment. sylus is a force of nature, wild and untamed. being with him is like dancing on the edge of a razor - thrilling but dangerous. can you really risk your heart again?

“and what do i get if you lose?” you ask, buying yourself time to think.

sylus flashes you a cocky grin. “you know i never lose, kitten. but if by some miracle i do . . i’ll leave you alone. for good. unless you decide you can’t resist me and come crawling back.”

you snort at his arrogance, even as a part of you wonders if he might be right. sylus has always had a hold on you, an undeniable magnetism that draws you in against your will, “fine,” you hear yourself saying, almost as if from a distance. “you’ve got a deal.”

his grin widens, triumphant. “get ready to come back to where you belong, [★] - with me.”

the crowd starts to get louder, chanting and cheering as the lights flicker and dim. it’s almost time for the main event - sylus’s championship fight. he starts to walk towards the ring, but pauses and turns back to face you.

“watch closely now, honey,” he says with a wink. “i’m about to show you what you’ve been missing.”

with that, he strides away, his movements graceful and predatory. you watch him go, your heart pounding in your chest.

what had you gotten yourself into?

as the crowd’s chanting reaches a fevered pitch, sylus steps into the ring, the picture of coiled power and raw aggression. his opponent, a hulking brute known as ‘the mauler’, glares at him from across the mat, pounding his meaty fists together in a show of intimidation. but sylus just smirks, unfazed. he’s taken down bigger, badder fighters than this guy.

the referee calls them to the center, going over the rules - not that there are many in the underground circuit. “no biting, no eye gouging, fight ends with a knockout or tapout. keep it clean . . ish. touch gloves and come out swinging!”

sylus bumps his taped fists against the mauler’s, staring him down with those intense red eyes. then they’re backing away, the air crackling with tension as the crowd falls silent in anticipation.

the bell sounds and the mauler charges forward with a roar, swinging wildly. but sylus is too quick, too skilled. he slips and weaves, dodging the heavy blows, letting his opponent overextend himself. sylus fires off a rapid jab - cross combo, snapping the mauler’s head back and drawing first blood from his nose.

the big man snarls and redoubles his efforts, trying to use his size to his advantage, to trap sylus against the ropes and pummel him. but sylus is like smoke, always just out of reach. he targets the mauler’s weak spots with surgical precision - a knife-hand to the solar plexus to crush his wind, a heel kick to the floating rib, an elbow smash to the jaw.

each blow lands with devastating impact, chipping away at the mauler’s formidable stamina and sending the crowd into a frenzy. they chant sylus’s name like a war cry, thrilling at the sight of the chiseled, tattooed demigod of the ring in his element.

you watch in breathless awe, pulse racing, body heating. damn him. he’s magnificent like this - a perfect fighting machine, all fluid grace and controlled violence. it’s enough to make you forget why you walked away, to let yourself imagine those powerful hands on your body once more . .

a pained grunt snaps you back to the moment as the mauler finally lands a solid hit, a haymaker to sylus’s ribs that sends him staggering. your heart leaps into your throat. but sylus just shakes it off with a feral grin, spitting blood and bouncing on his toes as he beckons for more.

they trade blows in a brutal, lightning-fast exchange, neither giving quarter. the mauler is flagging but still dangerous, pure grit keeping him on his feet. sylus bleeds from a cut over his eye but barely seems to feel it, an unholy light in his gaze as he scents victory.

he presses his advantage with a dizzying flurry of strikes, driving the mauler back . . back . . until he’s pinned against the turnbuckle. sylus hammers his torso without mercy - left hook to the liver, right uppercut to the chin, again, again. the mauler’s knees buckle and sylus steps back, letting him crumple to the canvas.

the crowd erupts as the ref counts it out. at “ten,” sylus throws his hands up in triumph, basking in the adulation. his eyes find yours across the room and the heat in them makes your breath stop. in three long strides he’s out of the ring and hauling you into his arms, crushing his mouth to yours in a searing kiss.

for a moment, you forget where you are. forget the mob of rowdy spectators whistling and catcalling. forget every reason you swore you'd never let him back into your heart. all you know is the demanding press of his lips, the steel - cable strength of his blood-slicked body, the intoxicating rush of his victory and your surrender . . .

“looks like i won our bet, babe,” he says smugly, smirking down at you. “hope you’re ready to pay up.”

you scowl, hating how easily he affected you. “one. drink. that was the deal.”

sylus touches his tongue to the seam of his split lip, gaze roving hungrily over you. “oh, i’m just getting started.”

he drags you through the throng of well-wishers and sycophants, his grip on your hand unbreakable. outside, the night air is cool against your overheated skin, charged with tension and the distant growl of engines.

sylus leads you to his pride and joy - that sleek demon of a harley crouched by the curb. the way he straddles the throbbing machine is blatantly sexual, all hard muscles and black leather. he jerks his head at the space behind him.

“c’mon - you know the drill, hop on.”

your hesitation lasts a mere heartbeat before you throw a leg over the bike and wrap your arms around his waist, molding yourself to his back. the rumble of the engine between your thighs and the furnace heat of his body shreds the last of your resistance.

your hesitation lasts a mere heartbeat before you throw a leg over the bike and wrap your arms around his waist, molding yourself to his back. the rumble of the engine between your thighs and the furnace heat of his body shreds the last of your resistance.

then, sylus kicks off and you’re flying, the city lights a neon blur as he opens the throttle. your pulse pounds in time with the roar of the pipes, excitement and desire a heady drug in your veins. by the time he screeches to a stop outside a dingy saloon on the outskirts of town, you’re dizzy with need.

inside, the bar is a den of sin and swagger, all scuffed leather and polished chrome and clinking bottles. eyes follow sylus with a mix of fear and reverence as he stalks to a booth in the back, one possessive hand at the small of your back.

he orders a whiskey, neat, and your favorite poison, not bothering to ask what you want. at your raised eyebrow, he shrugs.

“i remember.”

two words. but the weight of history and unspoken emotion behind them squeezes your heart. your fingers tremble slightly as you raise your glass in a mock toast.

“to your victory. and my reckless wager.”

sylus’ gaze is molten as he clinks his tumbler against yours, gaze holding you captive over the rim as he tosses back the smooth liquid. the slight burn of the alcohol is nothing compared to the smolder of his stare.

“what are we doing, sy?” you ask into the charged quiet, liquid courage loosening your tongue. “why now, after all this time?”

a muscle ticks in his jaw. he looks down, spinning his empty glass, broad shoulders rigid with tension.

“i fucked up.”

his voice is low, raw with a vulnerability you've never heard from him. your breath snags.

“i thought i needed the rush, the rep, the respect. and yeah, maybe i did, for a while. but none of it meant shit without you.” slowly, giving you every chance to pull away, he reaches for your hand — lacing his scarred, tape-wrapped fingers with yours, “i was a coward. i pushed you away because i was scared shitless of how bad i wanted you - needed you. needed your strength, your goodness. you made me want to be better. and it truly fucking terrified me.”

his grip tightens, almost painfully. anchoring you to him.

“losing you . . it broke me, [★]. made me realize that the only thing i’m actually afraid of is living without you.”

sylus swallows hard, his throat working. when he looks up at you, his eyes are blazing with fierce intent.

“i know i don’t deserve another shot. i know i need to earn back your trust. but i swear to whoever may hold my fate, if you give me a chance, i will spend every waking day proving that you’re my whole damn world.”

your heart is a wild bird in your chest, frantic and yearning. you search his face, finding only sincerity and aching tenderness beneath the bruises and blood.

“i never stopped loving you,” you confess, voice breaking. “no matter how hard i tried to hate you . . i couldn’t let you go.”

sylus makes a rough sound, halfway between a growl and a groan. then he’s kissing you, deep and urgent and saying everything he can't put into words. you fall into him, all hunger and desperation, the levee finally breaking on the flood of your need.

“take me home,” you gasp into his mouth, fingers curling in the sweat-damp silk of his hair.

“i thought you’d never ask, dove.”

the anticipation is a living thing as sylus speeds through the lamp-lit streets, the throaty growl of his harley between your thighs a heady reminder of the man commanding the machine. by the time he pulls into the cavernous garage beneath his loft, your body is humming, every nerve ending alight with need.

sylus is on you the moment you dismount, crowding you back against the rough brick wall, his large frame enveloping yours. his kiss is searing, possession and passion, strong hands gripping your hips as he grinds into you. you moan into his mouth, fingers scrabbling for purchase on his leather-clad shoulders, craving more.

“been dreaming about this,” he rasps against your lips, his voice like gravel and whiskey, igniting heat in your veins. “having you back in my arms, in my bed. fuck, [★], need you so bad it's like a sickness.”

“then take me,” you breathe, emboldened by the blatant hunger shining in those crimson eyes. “i’m here, sylus. i’m yours.”

something animalistic unfurls behind his gaze, a primal sort of satisfaction that has you clenching with want. in a burst of movement, he hoists you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his lean hips as he strides purposefully to the industrial elevator that will carry you to his domain.

the short ride up is a haze of frantic kisses and roving hands, two years’ worth of pent-up longing seeking outlet. by the time sylus kicks open the door to his loft, you’re both panting, clothes askew and lips kiss-bruised. he carries you straight to the bedroom, a cavern of shadows and silver moonlight spilling across rumpled black silk sheets. when he lays you down in the center of that decadent expanse, the reverence in his touch steals your breath. his battle-scarred fingers shake slightly as they skim over your curves, learning you anew.

“so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, crimson gaze tracking hungrily over your body like he's committing every detail to memory. “can’t believe i almost lost this . . lost you . .”

“never,” you whisper fiercely, reaching up to cup his angular jaw. “i’m here, sylus. right where i belong. and i’m not going anywhere.”

he turns his head to press a fervent kiss to your palm, the heat of his breath making you shiver as his lips graze your fingers — and ever so gently, he bites. then slowly, deliberately, he divests you of your clothes, unwrapping you like a gift. you echo his actions, baring him inch by glorious inch to your avid gaze.

sylus’s body is a work of art, all chiseled muscle and inked skin, a roadmap of violence and survival. you take your time tracing the ridges and hollows, the scars and scrolling tattoos, familiarizing yourself with this new landscape of him. he shudders beneath your questing touch, eyes fluttering shut, a low rumble building in his chest.

“[★],” he grits out, and fuck, how you’ve missed the way he says your name, guttural and raw, like a prayer and a plea. “please, baby . . need to taste you.”

“yes,” you hiss, already aching, empty. “please, sylus.”

granted, he descends on you like a man starved, that talented mouth charting a path of fire over your sensitized flesh. he maps every curve and valley with lips and teeth and tongue, each nip and suck and lap stoking the inferno building in your core.

when he finally settles between your trembling thighs, the first bold stroke of his tongue punches the air from your lungs, your spine arching involuntarily. he groans in appreciation, strong hands splaying your thighs wider, opening you fully to his voracious appetite.

“fuck, i missed this,” he rasps against your slick folds, the vibration of his words making you keen. “missed the way you taste, the sounds you make when i devour this sweet cunt. could feast on you for hours, little one . .”

you whimper breathlessly, one hand fisting in the sheets, the other tangling in his silver hair, holding him to you. sylus takes the encouragement for what it is, sealing his mouth over your aching flesh and suckling greedily. stars erupt in your eyes, pleasure rioting through your veins as he works you ruthlessly, adding clever fingers to his oral assault. he curls them just right, rubbing that secret spot that has you seeing god, all while his wicked tongue paints obscene promises on your clit.

“s-sy, fuck!” you wail, back bowing, thighs clamping around his ears as he drives you higher and higher. “oh god, yes, just like that! don’t stop, please, i’m gonna’ cum . . fuck, baby-”

he doubles his efforts, a man possessed, growling his own pleasure into your core. “that’s it, my love,” he urges gutturally between long, lewd licks. “go ahead and give it to me, wanna’ feel you drench my face, want you gushing on my tongue . .”

his filthy encouragement hurls you over the edge with a strangled scream, release slamming into you like a freight train. you shatter spectacularly, pulsing and clenching around his thrusting fingers, slick gushing into his eager mouth as he works you through the most intense orgasm of your life.

when you finally drift back down to earth, aftershocks still rippling through you, sylus is grinning up at you wolfishly from between your thighs, his beard glistening obscenely with your essence. “fucking incredible,” he rumbles, pressing a soft kiss to your still-twitching center. “could watch you fall apart on my tongue forever and never get tired of it.”

“get up here,” you demand breathlessly, tugging him to you. he comes willingly, settling his considerable bulk over you, caging you beneath miles of warm, hard muscle.

you claim his mouth in a filthy kiss, moaning at the taste of yourself on his lips and tongue. he responds with matching hunger, hips rocking into the cradle of your thighs, the thick ridge of his erection a brand against your sensitive flesh.

“please,” you whimper into his mouth, nipping at his bottom lip. “need you inside me, sylus. been too long, i want it . .”

“fuck,” he snarls, the words seeming to snap his restraint. “far too long, honey. be patient, you know i will.” slowly, giving you time to adjust, he notches himself at your entrance and pushes forward, gasping harshly at the tight, wet heat of you enveloping him. “goddamn,” he grits out through clenched teeth, forehead pressed to yours. “silly me. i almost forgot how fucking perfect you feel. like coming home.”

“yes,” you moan, reveling in the familiar stretch and burn of his thick length entering your body. “missed this so much . . missed you . . love you, sylus, so fucking much.”

“i love you too,” he rasps, pulling nearly all the way out before surging back in, starting a deep, rolling rhythm that has your toes curling. “i never stopped, never will. you’re only for me, [★]. only me.”

you lose yourselves to the timeless dance, bodies moving in perfect synchronicity, rediscovering every perfect angle and hidden sweet spot. sylus takes his time, building you back up with long, measured strokes, whispering words of worship into your skin, branding you with his love.

“so good,” he groans, hitching your leg higher on his hip, sinking impossibly deeper. “could stay buried in this tight little pussy forever. never wanna leave.”

“don’t.” you gasp, fingers clawing at his flexing back, desperate for more. “stay — harder, sylus, fuck me harder. wanna’ be able to feel it tomorrow.”

with a low, approving growl, sylus complies, snapping his hips faster, driving into your yielding body with the piston precision of the machine he rides. the wet, obscene slap of flesh fills the room, punctuated by your escalating moans and cries.

“i’m not gonna last,” he warns, rhythm faltering. “too good, too fucking good. tell me you’re close, baby . .”

“s-so close,” you pant, the coil in your belly wound to the breaking point. “just a little more - fuck, right there, sy . . o-oh my —”

sylus hammers into you, grunting with the effort, sweat sheening his skin. he wedges a hand between your straining bodies, finding your swollen clit and rubbing tight circles. “cum on my cock,” he demands, voice strained. “let me feel that pussy grip me, milk me . .” his words are your undoing, hurling you into oblivion with a keening wail. your inner muscles seize around him, rippling and fluttering, trying to pull him deeper as you drench his driving length in release.

“fuck, yes!” sylus roars, pistoning wildly, chasing his own end. “gonna’ - ah, shit, kitty, i’m cumming!” his climax overtakes him with a force that borders on violence, his cock jerking and pulsing as he spills himself deep in your still-spasming core, painting your inner walls with thick ropes of his seed. you mewl weakly in blissed-out overstimulation, aftershocks rolling through you as he fills you to the brim.

finally spent, sylus collapses onto you, taking care not to crush you with his bulk. you cuddle as sweat and other fluids cool on your skin, hearts gradually slowing in tandem. he’s still stuffed deep inside you and you clench involuntarily around his now-softening length, loving the way he groans, overused nerves sparking. “keep that up and we’ll be going again real soon,” he warns playfully, nuzzling into your neck.

you huff a laugh, carding your fingers through his damp hair. “yeah, yeah,” you tease. “we’ve got time now, sylus. all the time in the world. i’m not going anywhere.”

he raises his head to look at you, crimson eyes soft and full of wonder. “damn right you’re not,” he rumbles, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. “i’m never letting you out of my sight again. you’re stuck with me now, sweetheart.”

“eh, could be worse,” you quip, grinning up at him. “i think i can handle being stuck with you. it’s only forever, after all.”

“forever,” sylus echoes solemnly, like an oath. “i like the sound of that. you and me. binded as one.”

“ . . . and loving each other stupid every chance we get,” you finish impishly, wiggling your eyebrows.

he barks a laugh, the joyful, uninhibited sound making your heart soar. “oh, that is definitely part of the plan,” he assures you, a wicked gleam in his eye. “gotta’ make up for lost time, don’t we?”

“mmhm, that we do,” you agree readily, warmth suffusing you. “better get started on that. forever’s not getting any longer.”

“as my lady commands,” sylus murmurs, capturing your mouth again as he begins to stir inside you once more.

and as passion ignites anew, the promise of countless tomorrows enfolding you like a benediction, you know this is just the beginning of the ups and downs.

because this love, tempered by loss and longing, by time and truth . . it’s unbreakable. a bond that even the harshest trials will only serve to strengthen.

and with sylus by your side, his heart in your keeping as surely as yours rests in his scarred and steady hands . .

. . you know you can weather any storm.

forever, and then some.

★ SUGUGASM 2024 | please don’t copy, translate or share my work on other platforms without my consent. tagging @ramonathinks <3

[endlessthxxghts]

Just One

DBF!Joel Miller x afab!reader | w/c: 819 (she just a baby!)

Summary: You’re still worked up even though Joel’s tapped out for the night. Maybe you need a kiss to satisfy you—a simple, sweet kiss. Right?

Content/Tags: Reader is able-bodied and has female sex anatomy, but is otherwise undescribed. Pussy pronouns (she)!! 18+ MDNI. Making out. Bulge grinding 😋 let me know if there’s anything I missed!

A/N: @pinkypromisepascal and I had a conversation…and then I said I wanted to write a drabble based on what we talked about, to which she said “DO IT.” So I did. Y’all better thank her brain for this too!🙂‍↕️ and to @strang3lov3, thank you for the extra pair of eyes AND THE MOODBOARD!!!😭 I love you both so much. To everyone, I hope you enjoy, all my love xx

masterlist | notifs blog

It’s been thirty minutes. 

Thirty minutes since Joel had you folded nearly in half, your legs pressed against your torso, the slam of his hips pushing you higher up his mattress. 

Thirty minutes since he made your eyes roll back, throat burning in pleasure. 

Thirty minutes since he wiped you clean and massaged your hips. 

It’s been thirty minutes. 

And he’s knocked the fuck out. 

You sit up in his bed. You’re not here very often. Ever, really. It was by chance you stayed over tonight. So you study the area. Take his space in. The painting and posters above his bed. The nightstand. The white fan sitting on his dresser, pointing directly at him. He runs hot when he sleeps. Too hot. 

Your eyes trace his figure, then. His broad back on display, hips covered by his sheets. 

His face. God, his face. Salt and pepper scruff around the edges, smile lines and furrowed eyebrow lines adorning his face. They’re not as harsh now as he succumbs deeper into his slumber, but they’re present nonetheless. 

His hooked nose sits prettily, the same nose that had you squirming and gasping for air earlier in the night. Your core flutters at the thought. 

You’re looking at his lips now, and you can’t help the way your own forms a smirk. 

“Joel,” you whisper. 

A rock. Unmoving. Unfazed. 

On your knees now, you shuffle to face him. Leaning forward, hand on his shoulder to nudge him, you try again. 

“Joel.” 

“Hm?” his sleepy voice rasps. 

“I need your help,” you respond. 

One eye peels open. His eyebrows move into their natural habitat, furrowed. “What’s wrong, darlin’?” 

You put on your sweetest face. “Can I have a kiss?” 

You stifle a giggle at the daggers being thrown at you. “Jesus,” he mutters. “Have you been up this whole time?” 

“It’s been thirty minutes,” you retort. 

“No, it ain’t—” you gesture to his clock before he can finish his thought. He faces it immediately, throwing his face back into his pillow with an incoherent grumble. “Sleep,” he finally says. 

“I will, sleeping beauty,” you giggle. “Can I please have a kiss first? Just one,” you ask again, lowering your voice an octave, a tone he can never deny. 

He flips himself over, so he’s more on his back now. “It’s never just one.”

“That’s not true,” you fake pout, leaning closer in, letting the tips of your nose dance.

“You said one kiss months ago. Look where that got us.” His breath fans against your lips.

“I don’t see you complaining,” you whisper, your body on fire with this conversation. 

You let your lips finally meet, soft and sweet, but the heat building in your cheeks keeps you from breaking the seal. Without thinking, you climb on top of him, straddling him as your hands find the base of his neck, the length beneath you already beginning to stir. 

You break away for less than a second before you bring your lips to his again, but he’s quick to stop you, a shit-eating grin between his cheeks. “Thought ya said one?” He breathes. 

“Shut up,” you murmur, smashing your lips against his once more as your tongue coasts the expanse of his bottom lip, the taste of you from earlier still lingering. 

“Shit, sugar,” he groans into your mouth, his hips bucking into you on their own accord. “She’s still so needy, ain’t she? That why ya can’t sleep?”

His bulge catches perfectly where you need him most, pulling a whimper from the back of your throat. “Please, baby,” you pant. 

“Told ya ‘s never jus’ one kiss,” he rasps as his heavy hands grab at your waist, guiding your hips into a more frenzied rhythm.

“You’re right,” you cry, eyes clamping shut, nothing but the sweet sounds of your ecstasy blessing his ears. 

Too blissed out to continue kissing him, you bring your lips to his jaw, nipping and licking the places you can reach. With a few harsh grinds of your hips, you’re moaning out into his ear—his partially deaf one, luckily—with millions of white sparkles flashing beneath your eyelids. Joel’s breathing stops at the same moment your body convulses, strangled grunts leaving his throat as he adds to your mess of his boxers. 

“She satisfied, yet?” He hums as you lay across his sweaty chest.

“Mmm,” you pretend to think it over. “I think it’s her turn for a kiss now.” 

Joel scoffs. You can hear his smile with it. 

You lift your head to look him in the eyes, a faux innocence in the way you jut out your bottom lip. “Just one, baby,” you reason with him.

Joel tosses you to your unspoken side of the bed. “Sleep.” 

“But—”

“She’ll get her kiss in the morning.” 

Your eyes nearly pop out at the realization of his words. “G-Goodnight, baby,” you reply quickly. 

“‘S what I thought. G’night, darlin’.”

I would love to hear what you guys think! I love you all so much, thank you for always sticking by my side and supporting me always. You all are my happy place. Wouldn't be where I am without you.🩶

I cannot get myself to write for Joel or for TLOU without mentioning the horrors occurring in Palestine. Please check out the links in my navigation + bio to learn about the situation in Palestine and also learn about some ways in which you can help🇵🇸. Reading and interacting with those links takes 5 minutes of your time at the bare minimum.

[suguae]

Haunted

part one

I tried my best to tag as many people!

The long awaited part two! I'm so sorry if this doesn't live up to your guys expectations! I really felt like so much people were waiting for a part two and I've been so busy, but hopefully you all enjoy!

You were like a shot of espresso, a ray of sunlight and one would be so lucky just to even be in your presence.

That's how he saw it at least. The gummy smile that was glued on your face as you listened to Megumi's silly stories he'd make up just to entertain you.

Wherever you stepped foot, the mood would lighten drastically.

He knew that because if you were here with him right now, Megumi wouldn't be crying his heart out begging his dad to call you. Toji wouldn't be struggling to fall asleep as he looked at your side of the bed imagining you there. He wouldn't be crossing his fingers hoping that every notification on his phone would be you.

"The princess and prince got married and lived happily ever after." You smiled as Megumi watched you close the book in awe. His cheeks were painted with a light pink, "You and Daddy?" You couldn't help but giggle at cute sleepy Megumi.

"No..." You whispered, noticing his eyes getting heavy.

Toji's eyes shifted towards you and his baby boy on the shared bed, Megumi of course having one of his fits and you never being able to say no to him. His heart felt heavy, hearing the cold truth slip from your mouth.

"You've been out of it Fushiguro..."

There he was back to reality in his cold—big office. Standing in front of him was Shiu, his best and his closest employee. "Zenin." Toji corrected which caught Shiu by surprise. Toji was proud to have his wife's last name, yet here he is using his last name.

No wedding ring? Shiu thought to himself, looking at Toji’s empty fingers. But in fact his fingers were not empty, because there sat the dark purple promise ring you had gotten him for your third year anniversary. Shiu smiled to himself, he was moving on—for the better. 

“You and Y/n are doing better, I guess?” He sighs, taking a couple steps towards his boss’s desk and plopping himself on the chair in front of him. His smile fading hearing the vague no, coming from his boss. 

“She left actually, but it’s better this way.” 

“Is it?” 

“No, it’s not.” You smiled as the soft yellow light from the candle illuminated onto your face. How Toji’s heart melted when he saw that little sparkle in your eyes. “I actually love kids.” Your eyes shifted to the little stroller after Toji mentioned how stupid it was to try to go on dates as he had a whole baby. 

“It’s been rough ever since my wife passed.” 

He remembers that look on your face when he told you how recently his wife had passed. It was the first date, he brought his son and mentioned his dead wife. There was no way he would ever see you again after that. But he was wrong because you always found your way back.

“Daddy—gumi hungry!” The little boy pouted as Toji noticed the burning smell of the food. It had been way too much now, spacing out every chance he had just to think about you.

Where are you?

Are you okay?

He wonders if you’re doing better now that you left him.

Probably, right?

Wrong.

“You need to clean this place up, it’s a mess y/n.” Your mom says entering your small apartment. The tiny cans of energy drinks scattered around the place, tissues and a pile of blankets on the couch.

She sighed watching your frail body sit up from the couch, her arm wrapped around your body and she placed small kisses on your forehead.

“It’s gonna take a while to get back on his feet. When your father passed away, it took years for me to officially realize that he was gone y/n.”

That’s what hurt the most, how long was Toji willing to take to realize? What if he forgets about you?

“Go back to your daily life, my baby he will call you when he’s ready. I see the love in his eyes.” She smiled once more before bringing you closer in her embrace.

This is what you needed.

The embrace of someone else’s while your life was slowly changing.

His thumb hovered over your contact. His hands shaking as the tears swell in his eyes. It’s been well over six months since the break up.

Toji was more than ready.

He was just afraid now, afraid of the fact that the women he had a past with moved on and would reject his return.

His thumb firmly pressing the dial button as he brings his phone up towards his ear. He could feel his throat closing and his stomach churning.

“Hello?”

<- previous next part ->

taglist: @ssc7514@utarts@my1guilty1pleasures@bangchansthings@nxxun-blog@sidelnes@khaleesihavilliard@wr4inn@r0ckst4rjk@iwishigotswallowed@ryumurin@traacy-lin@aikori6@slowlyswimmingmoon@mikyapixie@dreamlessnight@maliakealoha

[satori-runa]

—Sweet as you

Summary: You and Captain Curly share a meal, despite your irritation regards the device that bakes your food.

Tags: Established Relationship, fluff, before the crash

Words: 0,8k

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

No matter how many times you stand in the kitchen, Curly would always be amused by the sheer expression of despair on your face. He couldn't lie, it was extremely cute for him to see your brows furrow in irritation and your nose scuffing up slightly.

“You can't tell me that is cooking.” You mumbles, glancing at the device on the counter and the two packs of different ingredients in your hand. “This is more like…dark forbidden witchcraft.”

Being stuck in space, between all these stars, means that there is no fresh food, shops, or delivery services. The crew was certainly stuck with the device that mixes packs to make dishes. And as a former self-claimed chef, you hated it. This wasn’t cooking, and it never would be.

“Food is food.” The Captain chuckled quietly, bringing some tone into his usually exhausted voice. “As long as it works and we don't starve.” He took the packs gently out of your hands and placed them onto their respective spots in the cooking device, watching it close and make some bread.

“Told you, evil witchcraft.” You sighed, crossing your arms as you watched the machine whirr to life, producing something that only barely resembled real food. “I miss actual cooking.” You muttered, leaning against the counter. “You know, where you chop vegetables, sauté things, maybe burn a little garlic by accident.”

Curly smiled, stepping closer to you, his shoulder brushing against yours. “I know,” he said softly, his voice less teasing now. “And I miss seeing you in your element, making something real. But hey, when we get out of here, I might see what I can do to improve this experience for you. Who knows, maybe we can get an actual freezer to store products and a stove.” His eyes softened as he looked at you, the exhaustion of space life momentarily lifting.

You looked up at him, your frustration melting a little under his gentle gaze. “You promise?”

He chuckled, a hand resting lightly on your waist. “Of course. You’re going to make us a feast as soon as we’re planet-side again.”

You laughed softly, leaning into him. “I’ll hold you to that.” The warmth of his body against yours was comforting, and you moved your hands to hold him closer.

Curly pressed a light kiss to your forehead, his hand brushing through your hair. “In the meantime, we’ve got witchcraft bread.” He grinned, reaching for the freshly made loaf. “And the company isn’t so bad either.”

You smiled, resting your head against his chest. “I guess I can live with that.”

You settled at the small table with Curly, the freshly made bread, and some packets of synthetic jam between you. Despite your earlier complaints, the warmth of the meal and the quiet intimacy of the moment made it feel… different. Better. Curly tore off a piece of bread and handed it to you, his eyes soft as he watched you.

You hesitated at first, taking a small bite, expecting the usual bland taste. But somehow, with Curly sitting across from you, smiling like that, it didn’t seem so bad. The bread was warm, and the sweetness of the jam clung to your tongue in a way that felt almost comforting.

“You’re enjoying it.” Curly said, his lips shifting into a grin as he watched your expression soften.

“Maybe just a little.” You admitted, taking another bite. “But it’s definitely not because of the bread.” You smiled at him, feeling the warmth of the moment wrap around you like a blanket.

Curly chuckled, taking a bite himself. But when you noticed a few crumbs clinging to his lips, you reached out instinctively. “You’ve got something…” You murmured, brushing the crumbs off the corner of his mouth with your thumb. His lips quirked at your touch, eyes twinkling.

Before you could pull your hand back, Curly gently caught your wrist, holding it in place. His gaze locked with yours for a moment, soft and teasing, before he slowly leaned forward. His lips pressed against your fingers, and he licked a bit of jam that had smeared onto your skin, his eyes never leaving yours.

A warm flush spread across your cheeks as his lips lingered, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine. “Tastes better this way.” He murmured with a playful smile.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, heart fluttering at the way he looked at you, so full of affection. “You’re impossible.” You whispered, feeling the closeness between you like a steady heartbeat.

“Maybe.” He said, still holding your hand gently in his, “But I make the jam taste sweeter, don’t I?”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile never faded as you leaned closer, resting your forehead against his. “Yeah, you do.” You whispered, feeling the warmth of him giving you comfort.

[roseykat]

TITLE: How they are when they eat you out

SUMMARY: OT8 blurb version of the title.

MASTERLIST

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSFW SKZ related content and I know I won't be able to regulate/monitor every single potential interaction with these posts so please do not engage with my work and page whatsoever.

TAGS: mentions of orgasms, sex positions, again nothing too major.

TAGLIST: @xhakumeix

A/N: here is another spicy blurb/work of mine! Thank you everyone for engaging with my posts, messaging and following! I really appreciate y’all 😭💗 also side note again, I’ll spellcheck this when I get home!

BANG CHAN

Deliberately goes slow. He likes foreplay but also teasing you. Thrives off of feeling your legs shake around his head as he goes down on you. If you can’t handle the overbearing intensity of pleasure, he’ll snake his arms around your thighs, gripping and holding you there to ensure that you will take everything he gives you.

However, Chan is a firm reinforcer of edging and uses his mouth to achieve that. He’ll have you squirming and trembling every single time he brings you to the edge. Whenever you try and inch closer towards his tongue, he’ll pull away, leaving you frustrated and angry. But edging has a high purpose, and that’s to make you cum ten times harder than you usually would.

“I know how much you want to cum right now,” Chan says. “So lie back and let me get you there.”

-

MINHO

Eats pussy for sport and will make you cum as hard and as fast as possible and as many times as you’ll let him. He’ll tease when he wants but for the most part, he wants to watch you writhe and shake. Hearing you scream out his name is a phenomenon that he can never get over. Minho also likes eating you out in positions that will have you screaming and where you’re bound to cum - literally.

He will have your legs bent at your sides, tied up so you can’t move, and will eat you out for an hour or two, otherwise until you’re crying from how much pleasure you’re in. In those positions, there’s nowhere for you to go or move other than the surface of his hot tongue.

“Like cumming on my mouth don’t you?” Minho asks. “I’ll make you cum again, and again, and again - until you start to forget your name.”

-

CHANGBIN

Eats it like he means it. Will make you cum more than once with his mouth and won’t settle for anything less. He will have you in tears from how intense the orgasms are that he gives you. It’s a real contrast to how tender and nurturing he is when it comes to taking care of you afterwards. Nonetheless, Changbin will eat you out like it’s the last thing he’ll do.

He doesn’t stop unless you want him to. Sometimes you give him free rein which, in all honesty, is a terrible idea sometimes because Changbin will cease at nothing to make you cum so hard that you start seeing stars. What’s even better is because of his strength, it’s near to impossible to squirm away from his mouth, rendering you to cum hard regardless.

“Look how pretty you are when you cum,” Changbin sigh’s exasperatedly.

-

HYUNJIN

Is very attentive. Studies every reaction that he brings out of you as soon as his mouth is buried in between your legs. Hyunjin also has the tendency to overstimulate the shit out of you. Half of the time he doesn’t actually mean to. He just gets off on the change in pitch of your moans, how you sometimes go silent when you cum, or when you grip onto his hair as tight as you can.

His method of making you orgasm multiple times ensures that your legs will be shaking and your moans will fill the space around him. The only unfortunate thing for him when it comes to eating you out is that he can’t see your entire body, especially when you cum.

“You’re shaking baby,” Hyunjin points out. “Feels that good, huh?”

-

JISUNG

Is sloppy, but in the best way possible. He’s unfazed about how wet you are, how much of it gets on his face, if it’s on the bed, the floor, the kitchen counter - whatever. That’s applicable to every situation where he’s eating you out, even when Jisung feels lazy. In saying that, there are two sides to him, and he can go either way; he’ll either eat you out like he’s been deprived of it for months, or if he’s feeling lazy but still wants to go down on you, he’ll eat slowly.

If that’s the case, he will ask you to just sit on his face. It’s convenient for him to lie back and eat you out that way. Hell - he’ll even let you use his face to make yourself cum however many times you want. Jisung will say it so casually that it sometimes turns you on more. Despite him feeling lazy, that doesn’t mean to say that he isn’t into it - he is definitely into it.

“I’m horny as fuck,” Jisung says before smiling. “Sit on my face?”

-

FELIX

Going down on you is already a task that’s intimate enough as it is, but Felix’s entire aura seems to enhance that even further, to the point where you feel so good that it’s emotional. Almost every time - guaranteed - Felix will interlock his fingers with yours when his head is buried between your legs. He’ll kiss your inner thighs, softly on your clit, delicately sucking and licking to slowly build you up to a peak.

He analyses what you like so well that every time he goes down on you, he makes sure to follow that routine to achieve the same results if not better. It’s almost like one of his games to him, except the rewards are better in every aspect. Lix just wants to make sure you feel good.

“Can never get enough of you,” Felix says. “Wanna make you cum as much as you’ll let me.”

-

SEUNGMIN

Is a tease. Even during foreplay he’ll edge you with his mouth. He’ll never give you exactly what you want when you want it. If he’s going down on you, and you’re ready to cum, Seungmin will stop right before you start tipping over the edge just so he can fuck you in order to make you cum on his cock instead. Then again, if he feels generous, it’ll be his mouth that makes you cum, especially as a form of reward if you can go a day or two without being an absolute brat.

But that’s the side of Seungmin who likes to be dominant. There’s the other face of the coin where he can be very tender. In those instances when he is going down on you, expect to see a lot more affection from him. He won’t just focus solely on your clit, he’ll go slow, check in on you, and make you cum more than once because he’s also a gentleman.

“I’m the only one who can make you feel this good,” says Seungmin. “Nobody else can make you cum the way I do.”

-

JEONGIN

Knows exactly what he’s doing when it comes to eating you out. Jeongin chooses to go slow whenever he does because of how attentive he is. He wants to make sure that each second his face is buried in between your legs that your body feels good. Every now and then it’s a bit frustrating because all you want to do is just cum as quickly as you can, so as you squirm or grip his hair to try and make him go faster, that’s when he’ll decide to intentionally tease you and go slow.

He likes to hold around your thighs, gently squeezing them to hold you firm around his head. The struggles you have when it comes to putting up with his tongue is next level. He has the technique to make you cum in under a minute minimum. He’s unassuming but he’s just that good at it.

“Can feel your legs shaking,” Jeongin says. “I want to feel them shake even more.”

[thatlittlered]

lovefool | aaron hotchner

warning(s): 18+, detailed description of sexual acts (m!masturbation) under the cut!

GIF by @scuttling

previous parts

author's note: feast on this, my metaphorical children, because more and better things are coming very soon. I also made a masterlist for your reading convenience.

Follow me @MadeofLilies at Ao3 and let me know if you want to be tagged here.

-.-.-

Aaron finds himself quite disoriented when he wakes up next to you. Smooth cotton on his cheek, mellow morning light peeking through the blinds. The warmth of a soft body prevails over all. Chests touching, limbs entangled. It is almost becoming too warm under the covers, or it might just be the rush of realization.

The lovely smell of your freshly washed hair brings him closer; so close that he might nudge your cheek with his nose if he moves a single inch but he doesn’t dare. It would be the first ever act of intimacy between you in daylight.

You must have felt his breath on your face because you stir until there’s no space left between you. There is nowhere to look but in each other’s eyes.

It should feel weirder than it does.

He looks so young under this light; his face littered with moles that you would like to kiss. His hand dares to move to your eyebrow and settles the hair there tenderly before moving downward. The touch of his thumb might as well be a kiss when he’s tracing your cheekbone, your nose, your mouth.

“Good morning.”

His voice is hoarse and it makes you laugh.

“Good morning, Aaron.”

Neither of you wants to move, but you decide to take the plunge, “I’m going to make some coffee, okay?”

“Okay.”

He takes his time getting up, looking around your room for more pieces of you to remember. He is drawn to your vanity where your perfume and hairbrush lie. You’ve left out a toothbrush for him; ever thoughtful.

When he finally joins you in the small kitchen, you’re a sight for sore eyes and you smile when you see him, pushing a steaming cup of coffee his way.

“Are you hungry?”

He sits so sweetly across from you on the kitchen island.

“I’m okay, thank you.”

Your feet touch, but neither of you moves away.

“You don’t eat breakfast?”

“I have cereal with Jack, mostly because he asks me to.”

The ease with which he had touched and kissed you the night before has dissipated, ephemeral confidence melting away to leave behind a man unsure of what to say or do. He wishes you had met a long time ago, when he could have given you the best parts of him. His best now is… meager. Those parts of him seem long gone, or more accurately, forcefully taken.

Now everything is an impossible decision to make. Every moment of intimacy comes with the fear of imminent darkness. He must dare to break way.

“We have cereal.”

You get up to grab the box from the shelf and when you turn around, he’s almost caging you between the counter and his body. His hands are on your face again, holding you in place so he can kiss you with the taste of coffee on his tongue, which begs for entry.

You both willfully ignore the tension building up between your bodies and how easy it would be to give in completely right now. It’s too soon, way too soon. He was simply taken with the smallest bit of skin that had peaked through when you reached to grab the box; wanted to remember what you taste like, to break away.

His hands are still on your face as he speaks, forehead to forehead.

“I can’t stay long; I have to pick up Jack from his aunt’s. I promised him we’d spend the day together.”

“That’s okay, I understand.”

He kisses you again but lingers, one last taste before he has to go.

“I would really like to take you out to dinner on our next day off.”

-.-.-

The days that follow are torture. You’re all drowning in backed up cases and the endless stream of paperwork that follows. The peaceful night of sleeping in each other’s arms and the coffee laced kisses are but a distant memory amidst this chaos.

Yet, in the rare moments when everything slows, it’s hard to keep his eyes off you, especially today. Especially when you’re wearing that red blouse. Aaron’s seen it before, appreciated it just as much as then against your complexion, but there’s something exhilarating, sinful about having seen it hang in your closet. It puts everything in a new perspective; this tantalizing secret between the two of you waiting to be realized again and again and again, if he can help it.

If only you had the time.

It takes all the self-restraint he can find within him not to approach you at the hotel. It would be easy, so easy, wouldn’t raise the faintest suspicion if he just knocked on your door after hours and you could talk – just a little. But, he can’t. He won’t. There are still limits.

Emotional exhaustion is a trap, with the mind begging for rest and the body ignoring its pleas till collapse. His body begs for you. Pleads to be held and kissed and gently lulled to sleep now that it knows the feeling.

The shower pressure is sharp, unkind, nothing like you, but the warm fog that follows… he can almost see before him the soft plane of your bare shoulder, the drops of water on your collarbone. He had not dared to look past, but he can only imagine and oh, he does. He could have surrendered himself completely, laid on top of you in the small bathtub in a mess of clothed and naked limbs. He could have allowed -begged of you- to touch him, feel any part of him you wanted to and then grant him the gift of doing the same. The smoothness of your wet body under his hands, the desperation in your kisses.

He can almost feel you on his fingertips right now, so, he gives in. Takes himself in hand to relieve the almost painful feeling. It’s muscle memory really, there should be nothing truly sensual about it but he can’t keep the images out of his head. His body recalls every detail of your touch and his mind takes advantage.

Images and feign sensations of your feather light touch on his stomach, trailing down to pay attention where he most needs you to. Your thumb presses delicately on the head, teasing him into a desperate awakening of his every sense. He is leaking for you already and you don’t let it go to waste, dragging your thumb up and down slowly until his precum spreads all over. It makes it easier to go further, pull the extra skin down gently and enjoy the sheer magnitude of him.

He jolts in your hand at the movement, but stays perfectly still after in fear that you will stop. You wouldn’t, not ever. A large vein runs on the bottom part of his cock and you can’t help but trace it, watching the way he reacts. He jolts again, begging for more, more of whatever you can give him and you take the hint. Your hand wraps around his base completely, enveloping him in softness he would die for, before beginning to move up and down in long, slow motions.

You kiss his cheek, his jaw, his neck and he is about to collapse in front of you, nothing but a desperate, needy mess for you to play with. He is painfully close, can’t possibly even keep his eyes open and you can tell, so you go faster, harder. He comes with your name in his mouth.

Everything slows down from there. The spell of the warm shower fog once again wears off and when he opens his eyes, it’s painfully clear you’ve taken over his whole existence, so much so that he must fantasize about the things he’d like to do to you, and things he’d like you to do to him, in order to get through the night.

Come morning, when you’re all gathered in the jet and going home, he can’t look you in the eye.

You notice.

[flowersforbucky]

magnetic field

erik lehnsherr x reader

word count: 2k

summary: takes place following the events of days of future past. reader is a mutant with elemental manipulation powers.

a/n: this goes out to the three erik/magneto fans that will read this 🤧 i don't have high hopes for this but i still thought i'd give sharing it a shot. very well may end up deleting it but we will see lol

warnings/tags: a little bit of angst but mostly fluff! kissing, suggestiveness, implied smut but nothing graphic

You just keep me coming back

Something about how opposites attract

You hold me down

I'm in it for real

Love me, leave me high and dry

I'm back in your arms and I don't know why

I can't get around your magnetic field

- magnetic field by lights

It's just past dusk on a Sunday evening when he shows up on your doorstep with drenched clothes and dripping wet hair.

You knew that you were bound to see him again one day. You just didn't expect it to be here, or quite this soon.

“What are you doing here, Erik?”

You cross your arms and lean against the frame of your small cabin's front door, wrapping your cardigan tighter around yourself as you take in his appearance.

It had only been a few months since you had last seen him in D.C., but those few months had taken their toll on him. Dark circles encase his eyes that appear almost hollow.

“It always seems to rain when you're feeling particularly nervous,” he says with a half smirk. Thunder booms from above as rain beats down harder on the tin roof of your porch.

“It's Oregon,” you shrug. You concentrate on keeping your voice even. “It's rained for the last five days.”

He's not wrong. You do tend to subconsciously make it rain when you're nervous.

He chuckles under his breath, taking a step closer to you. Your breath catches in your throat.

“Do you really have to ask why I'm here?”

Now it's you who avoids his question. You have your hopes as to why he's here, but you can't bring yourself to feed into them. Not after all this time - after years of trying to move on while he was imprisoned, followed by a brief reunion during the events of Paris and D.C. that left your heart shattered all over again just a few months ago.

Can you really let yourself believe that he's simply here for you?

You raise a single hand to the side of his neck, your palm caressing the wet skin of his throat. His eyes narrow but he doesn't flinch away, only watches you curiously.

A second later, his previously soaked clothes and sopping wet hair are completely dry. He glances down, realizing what you did as you reluctantly pull your hand away from his skin. You think maybe - just maybe - a hint of disappointment flashes through his eyes at the loss of contact.

“Can't have you dripping all over my carpet,” you sigh, turning to retreat back into the house. You hear the front door click shut and you know that he's followed your lead inside.

“So, why Oregon?” He asks hesitantly as he slips his coat off and hangs it on a hook in the foyer. You turn to find him taking in the appearance of the place you've been trying to call home for the last few months. His eyes skim over the piles of books scattered throughout the small living room, and then to the bouquet of wilted zinnias on your dining room table that you had picked in hopes of making the bland space feel more lively.

“I'll answer your questions if you answer mine,” you offer, leaning against the edge of your kitchen counter. He walks to the dining room table a few feet away from you and pulls out a chair, taking a seat in front of where you stand.

“That sounds fair enough to me, darling.”

Your heart skips a beat at the familiar pet name. It feels as if it's been a lifetime since you've heard him call you that.

“I came here once as a kid,” you answer simply. “After what happened a few months ago, I couldn't bring myself to go back to New York. Charles, the mansion.. everything reminded me of you. I just needed to get away for a while.

He looks down at his lap, unable to hold your gaze. “I have so many regre–”

“Your turn,” you interrupt as you turn to the cabinet behind you. You rummage through it, gathering a tea kettle and a mug.

You aren't ready to hear his apologies. As badly as your heart has wanted to hear that he's sorry for so long, to hear him say that he regrets ever doing anything to jeopardize what the two of you had - you don't trust yourself to not crumble into a million pieces at those words now that he's sitting in your kitchen.

“How did you find me?” You ask without looking back at him. You fill the kettle with water, and bring it to a boil in seconds with the snap of your fingers.

“I'll tell you,” he says over the sharp whistle of the kettle. “But you can't laugh at me.”

You snort, pouring the boiling water over an earl grey tea bag as you try to ignore the swell of bitterness in your chest at the nostalgia of it. Memories of this exact scenario in a different time and place flash through your mind - a happier, more innocent time and place. You carry the mug over to where he sits and place it in front of him before pulling out the chair next to him.

You hold out your pinky towards him, elbow on the dining room table. He cocks an eyebrow at you.

“I pinky promise that I won't laugh at you,” you say, little finger still extended. He leans forward, lips forming a smirk as he wraps his pinky around yours. His skin is every bit as soft and warm as you remember it being and you dread the moment that he pulls away.

“I went to the mansion,” he answers with his finger still secured around yours. “I snuck into Charles’ study when no one was home and found some letters you had written to him. I saw the return address on the envelope.”

“Huh,” you muse. “I guess I see why you made me promise not to laugh.” You're not sure what you were expecting his answer to be, but you didn’t think it would be quite so… human.

“Your turn to answer a question, darling.”

Your only response is a small nod.

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No,” you answer, perhaps a bit too quickly. “I don’t.”

His posture slackens, relief taking over his features. He leans over to where your fingers are intertwined, and presses his lips to the side of your pinky finger. It has been years since his lips have touched your skin, but you melt at the familiar warmth all the same.

“Good,” he sighs in relief. His breath fans over your skin, leaving a visible trail of goosebumps over your hand. “I do not intend to leave unless you order me away.”

Your eyes burn with tears that threaten to spill over. His sudden appearance, his words, his mere presence after so much time apart is overwhelming. Despite it all, you can’t bring yourself to care about the reasons why you’ve had to spend so much time apart.

He’s here, and that’s enough for you. Everything else can be addressed in time.

You bring your free hand to his face, cupping his jawline in your palm. Your thumb skims over the stubble that graces his cheeks.

“What do we do now?” you wonder aloud. His pale eyes crinkle as he gives you the first smile that you’ve seen from him in years.

“We try to make up for lost time.”

••••••

You heat him some leftovers from the dinner you had made for yourself not long before his arrival, a bowl of chicken noodle soup and homemade bread. He scarfs the food and the tea that you'd made for him down within minutes, and then retreats to your cabin’s small bathroom to rinse off the last few days of cross-country travel. He had brought a singular duffel bag that now rests on the foot of your bed - which just so happens to be the only bed in the house, seeing as how it's a one bedroom and you live here alone.

Butterflies fill your belly at the implication. There was once a time where it never would have been a question - of course the two of you would have shared the only bed in the house. Now, doing so could very well mean diving back in too quickly and ending up broken all over again.

But then again, didn't that become a possibility the second that you opened your door to find him on your porch?

“What’s on your mind?” His soft voice sounds from behind you. You had been so lost in thought that you didn't hear him exit the bathroom and wander back down the hallway.

You turn to find him leaning against your bedroom door frame, wearing only a towel that hangs loosely from his hips. His chestnut hair still drips wet.

Your eyes flicker between him and the spare quilt that you have piled in your arms.

“You can sleep in here,” you tell him with a nod towards the bed that you'd just put a set of fresh sheets on. “I'll take the couch.”

He chuckles lowly, standing up straight as you walk towards the door, blocking your exit.

“Don't be silly. I'm not going to kick you out of your bed in your own home,” he tells you in a gentle but firm tone.

“You're not kicking me out of my bed,” you assure him. “I'm offering it to you.”

Your cheeks warm under his gaze that you struggle to hold - your eyes threatening to wander down the expanse of his chest with the rise and fall of each breath that he takes.

“It's loads comfier that whatever cot that you were sleeping on in prison, I promise,” you jab at him lightly when he doesn't respond.

He hums in consideration, taking a step closer to you.

“It's not the cot that I minded so much while I was in prison. It's the fact that any bed without you in it feels empty.”

A clap of thunder booms in the distance at the same time that your heart skips a beat.

“I'm not expecting anything to happen, darling,” he assures you lightly. “We don't even have to touch. After so much time apart, I just want to be next to you.”

You exhale a breath that you didn't realize you had been holding in, and place the quilt in your arms on the dresser right next to you.

“Don't be silly,” you repeat his sentiment from just moments ago. You take a step closer to him, now able to smell hints of Old Spice soap from his shower. “Of course you can touch me. If that's what you want.”

“If that's what I want?” He scoffs softly, inching towards you. You place your hands on his hips, walking backwards until your thighs brush against the edge of your mattress. You're lodged between him and the bed, his bare chest practically brushing against yours.

“As if I’d ever not want that.”

He raises his hands to each side of your face and tilts your head up to look at him. His thumb massages over the swell of your bottom lip, his eyes locked on your mouth.

“Erik,” you breathe, and before you can get out another word, his lips are slated over yours. You pull him flush against you by your hold on his waist.

When you close your eyes and focus solely on the feeling of his mouth moving in synchrony with yours, you forget where you're at and everything that's happened over the course of the last decade. In this moment, you're not in a run down cabin in the middle of nowhere Oregon - you're in the courtyard of the mansion and he's kissing you for the very first time.

“I missed you so much,” he whispers against your mouth when he pulls away. You raise up on your toes, pressing your lips against his one more time before pulling back to stare up at him with a smirk. You sit down on the edge of the mattress and scoot back, pulling him down with you.

“Then let's make up for lost time.”

You don’t notice it until you're drifting to sleep in each other's arms hours later, but the thunderstorm that had been raging upon his arrival had slowed to a silent, peaceful mist.

thank you for reading ♡ comments and reblogs are very much appreciated!!!

[amourcheol]

paris (teaser)

❝You and Jeonghan, jazz-filled corners, hidden history, and the city of love.❞

historical! au | exes to lovers! au | angst, fluff, smut | approx. 45k words (teaser wc. 1.4k words)

s u m m a r y : disgraced by hollywood for the last time, you, a once superstar-turned-alcoholic, escape to the city of love to seek sanctuary from the ruthless tabloids. your sanctuary comes in the form of film noir superstar yoon jeonghan, the enigmatic man who taught you the art of acting, lust and love before your fame. when he asks to meet you once, just like old times, you cannot refuse. what is meant to be a simple date turns into a path of passion, pain and everything that comes with fooling around with your ex in the jazz-filled corners of paris.

c o n t e n t s : actor! mc, actor! jeonghan, mc is incredibly bitter and makes bad decisions, agent! seungkwan who is tired of fixing them, jeonghan is the suavest, sultriest mf, mentions of parisian landmarks in this fic, also a bit of french peppered throughout, greek mythology art references, tons of fluff which is also layered with angst, this will be very hurt-comfort, hella ansgty but will have a happy ending mature warnings -> alcohol consumption and abuse, smoking, this is basically sexual tension with plot, slightly drunk making out, oral sex (f. receiving) unprotected sex (refer point to bad decisions), very soft angsty sex, body worshipping, petnames (chérie, mon ange, darling, angel), overall emotional rollercoaster, more tba!

p l a y l i s t : here!

t a g l i s t : @hyuckworld​ @sysymei @alaypsy23 @belladaises @jjeongddol @sparklyshuji @forcoups @ilovesungjun @wonwoo24 @scandal-in-bohemia @hopefulchick @superbbananananana @onedumbho3 @fragmentof-indifference @cuntycheol @rubywonu @if-i-like-i-reblog @yoonzinoooo @jungwoos-luvr @crookedwolfruins @leclercloverbot​ @alexai (let me know if y’all want to be tagged!)

a u t h o r ’ s  n o t e : after three years ... four rewritings later... she may finally see the light ... i am releasing the teaser now but will post the fic when i’m back from holiday! i hope you all enjoy the lil extract <3

read this fic here!

SHIT. YOU COULD NOT DO THIS TODAY.

Suddenly, you wished he was a mere figment of your imagination, because then he would not have to see you in your drunken, disordered state, looking for art that was not there, looking for the past in the present.

But then he began to move.

This very real presence walked closer to you, and you felt your entire body constricting, because Yoon Jeonghan was in front of you, the greatest star in the world was approaching you, the man of your distant memories was coming too close.

“Wait,” he then said, and your throat was closing up, you were blinking rapidly, chest growing heavy, and you needed him to get away. He came closer, and you knew then and there you were going to die on the cold floor of the Louvre, marble eyes on you—

And then your own gaze was glistening, and when he noticed it became harder to contain yourself. “_____, are you all right?”

“Yes!” you got out, but then you proved yourself wrong when a few tears slipped out, staining your cheeks.

The man wasted no time, closing the last space between the two of you as he reached out. Instantly, you repelled from his touch, almost flinching from his surprise. “No!” you rasped out, bringing out your own hands to create distance, taking a step back. “No, you don’t need to do that…I’m fine.” 

You breathed sharply through your nose. “I am fine.”

Hastily you turned to the empty space where he last was, before you followed him like a madwoman around the hall. He watched you, your back almost to him. “What…what are you…” you paused, trying to normalise your shaking voice. “What are you doing here?”

You could feel his inquisitive stare upon you. “I could ask you the same thing.”

That question was not being answered. “I asked you first.”

Because you could not see him, you were not aware of his reaction. Still, it was enough for him to answer, “Well, in the Louvre, or in Paris?”

You gritted your teeth at that. “I think everyone knows why you’re in Paris at the moment.”

“Do they, now?”

You could not help it.

Casting a momentary glance at him, you were taken aback to find his gaze upon you. “Are you aware, at least?�� he asked you.

Despite his simple questions, your impending headache, you had to clamp down on your remarks. “Of course I’m aware,” you muttered. “The papers are all over the press tours you’ve been doing.”

A perfectly groomed brow arched at your comment. “I’m surprised you follow the papers at the moment.” 

You knew exactly what he meant. “One must keep check of the stories they gossip about,” you only said, focusing back on the empty space. “Those journalists cannot be trusted.”

“Hmm…” you heard shuffling amongst his clothes—no doubt crossing his arms. “I have read the stories.”

A scoff. “I suppose you believe them, don’t you?”

He noted the cruelty in your response. The actor did not take it to heart.

“I have always believed in the stories you told me, chérie.”

This time, curiosity controlled your movement.

Curiosity had you turning back, forcing you to observe his expression, catch his lie. 

But you found no deception.

No, there was only sincerity—pure as the moonlight shining on the two of you.

Chérie.

The last time someone had called you such a sweet name was too long ago.

How ironic, that it was the same man beside you who had bestowed you this very endearment.

A shuddered breath left you. 

You could not do this now.

You were going to say as much when Jeonghan interrupted you.

“Were you looking for something in here?”

Your furrowed brows had him humming. “I thought as much.” Gently, he jerked his head beyond your figure. “Strangely enough, I was looking for it as well.”

Confused, you glanced back at the empty space, where that certain, mysterious sculpture was supposed to be. “That is why I came to the Louvre,” you heard him say.

There was still suspicion laced in your features. “How do you know that we are thinking of the same piece?”

That ghost of a smile crept up again. “You act as if you don’t remember.”

Your sigh was a little sheepish. “I do,” you said, reminiscing on the memories. “But the name…”

No matter how hard you endeavoured, your memory of the sculpture was too hazy for your half-drunk mind. 

You searched him for an answer. “I’m sure you have not forgotten.”

“No…I have not.”

You waited. His silence had you insisting, “Well?”

When you saw a slight glimmer in his whimsical gaze, you knew that he had something else in mind. The implications had you biting your lower lip, anxiety blooming.

The nerves grew when Jeonghan spoke.

“I will tell you if you see me tomorrow.”

You blinked back.

“There’s an exhibition opening here tomorrow afternoon,” he continued, taking a step towards you, careful not to startle you again. “It’s centred on the sculpture we both wanted to see, but it’s been moved to another hall.”

He confused you a great amount. “How do you know that?”

His stare went beyond you, to the wall. “It says on the plaque.”

Sure enough—when you looked back, there was the notice. Because your French was adequate at best, you did not understand it fully. You simply had to trust his linguistic abilities.

That you could do—you were aware of Jeonghan’s fluency in the language of love. 

He cocked his head, a few strays cascading the side of his face. “You and I could see it there.”

The offer had shaken you. “Why?”

“Why?”

You knitted your brows suspiciously. “Why do you want to go with me?”

The film noir star watched you then, you shuffling uncomfortably under his scrutiny. God, you forgot how intense his eyes were—in fairness, you had not been the subject of his stares for a few years. 

He locked his gloved hands behind his back. “Because you need a break, _____. From everything.”

He offered you a smile. “Let me be the one to give you that. If only for the day.”

You could have crumbled before him.

It was at this stage you cursed yourself for being in such a state. Perhaps if you were sober, you would have carried on this conversation in a more respectable manner, taken more caution.

It was incredibly difficult, composing yourself around the man.

“I can’t…” you inhaled sharply, trying to form the words. “I cannot do midday…too many people, you know…staring, judging…”

“Ah.” He nodded, parting his mouth in thought. “Then tomorrow night?”

Stretching your mouth, unsure, he assured, “They will not follow you here at this hour.”

“How are you so sure of that?”

This time, he sighed, surprised at your anxiousness. “I see you’ve not changed, then.”

You narrowed your gaze. “What is that supposed to mean?”

But the actor did not seem like he was going to elaborate. 

He instead took another step towards you, a mere two feet left. 

“Do you trust me?”

You tilted your head back. 

What kind of question was that?

Do you trust me?

You did not trust anyone. Not after this whole debacle back home, when almost all your friends within the industry had contributed to your downfall. Hollywood was filled with traitors, the worst being the people who haunted the journey of your disgrace at every moment.

It was impossible to place any ounce of faith in another.

As you watched his eyes settle on you, you noticed an emotion you had not witnessed in forever.

Tenderness.

Tenderness with no ulterior motive—gentle acceptance, as if he recognised your position. As if he recognised your change, the apprehensive nature of your questions, your pauses. It physically hurt being stained with such compassion, when you had been begging for it from the world all those weeks ago.

It hurt, having someone who understood you.

You, however, should not have been surprised.

Yoon Jeonghan had always been like this. Especially when you both were together.

You could have smiled. 

What a time that was.

As if he could read your mind, the film noir star began, “You remember, don’t you? That I’ve never let you down?”

You decided to let yourself slip—you could always blame it on the alcohol. 

“What time do you want me here tomorrow?”

[runningfrom2am]

moon river // part one

summary: people in lincoln county are dropping dead alongside their livestock, the wells are running dry and children are prompted from their beds to wander unconsciously in the night. billy has been hired as a last resort by the lawmen as a bounty hunter, charged with the task of hunting and killing the witch responsible in exchange for a reward and the clearing of his name. how could he turn that down?

pairing: william h. bonney x fem!reader

wc: 7.6k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: witch!reader x bounty hunter!billy, warning for like,,, witchcraft and stuff i suppose?? mentions of death, minor amounts of gore and animal mutilation. devil worship and other supernatural/biblical tea. also angst. probably.

a/n: impulsive new series dw ab it. i'm thinking this'll be only a few parts but based on how long part one is, i don't think that means much lol. buckle in.

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // pinterest board // playlist

The reward had been posted for weeks, and any man who dared to set foot in the woods on the hunt for the witch who had been cursing local crops and killing livestock didn't return at all. Billy was confident, though. He could draw and shoot quicker than anyone, and he had not only been offered the reward, but also the clearing of his name and a clean slate- and damn if that wasn't an impossible offer to turn down. Even if the sheriff was pretty damn desperate in order to seek Billy out unarmed to beg him to go after this witch.

Rifle in hand, he walked for hours hunting for a girl he'd only heard rumours of. Of her pretty hair that fell in enchanting waves and her bright, sparkling eyes that were deceptive in a way that could suck a man in and kill him with nothing more than a quick flick of her wrist. But he'd met plenty of girls like that before. He also heard she was horrid, scary and old and plucked straight from everyone's mother's horror stories passed onto them as children to keep them in their beds at night. In truth, he had no clue what he was walking into.

The forest was quiet today, eerily so, without even the chirping of birds or the wind in the trees to keep him company on the foot journey. Nothing. He wasn't welcome here and something deep inside of him knew it. Walking into a clearing, he gets only the mildest relief as the wind brushes the long grass against his boots and the woods isn't suffocating him any longer. Until the breath is vacuumed straight out of his lungs when he sees the first sign of life in miles.

This girl must be his age, of all the things he heard he didn't truly expect that. It was hard to tell as she was crouched over one of many graves in the open clearing, the sun making her hair glow like it had hand picked that surface to reflect off of. She can't be the witch everyones afraid of. He can even hear her now, the subtle humming of a tune coming from her lips as she laid out flowers from a basket below the shoddy cross. This was just a girl taking care of a forgotten grave, that was all. Despite his better judgement, he wants to believe that.

"Hello?" He calls, tilting his head slightly as he takes a hesitant step closer across the clearing.

You already knew he was there, of course. You could feel the shift in the air when he entered the space a minute or so prior. You turn your head, standing up straight again and brushing off the front of your dress.

"Hello, there." You reply, offering him a small smile as you pick up the basket from your feet. Admittedly, he was the youngest (and handsomest) of the men you assume had come to kill you, but you're surprised the woods had even let him get this close. The forest can see something in him you could not, clearly. Who are you to deny its very will?

The power in your skin thrums like a second heartbeat in your fingertips and against your ribcage, and you bring a hand up to grasp at the crystal hanging around your neck.

He notices the way your hand tightens around the necklace in your fingers almost anxiously, and it makes his own hand subconsciously itch to raise his rifle as he takes another step closer towards you. He swallows, trying his damndest to not show even a flicker of fear behind his eyes. There is none. She's just a girl, he has to convince himself, but you can see it. Feel it in the air around him even as he stands perfectly steady and strong in front of you.

"Who are you?"

A pretty girl, alone in a forest that no-one else dares tread into. It's a curious sight, and it only serves to make him more on edge. No one in their right mind would be in this forest of their own will.

You tilt your head slightly, watching him as he steps closer but making no attempt to move away yourself.

You answer with your name, soft and sweet as honey as you twist the chain around your neck slightly, eyes locked now on the gun in his hands.

"You're..." You pause for a moment to think, taking a deep breath and closing your eyes. "Billy. That's your name, right?"

His hand tightens on his rifle. The feeling of being somewhere he was never supposed to have entered made beads of sweat roll down the back of his neck as he felt the air thicken all around them. "How do you know that?"

You hesitate on how to answer. You can't very well tell him that you felt it, that you just knew. That you just knew he was here to kill you. You are far from the most social of girls, but you had to save face.

"You look like a Billy." You smile softly. "And it's a common enough name, is it not? A safe guess."

His eyes narrow slightly as his grip on the rifle relaxes. You were hiding something, that much was blatantly clear just from looking at your face, but still, he couldn't imagine someone like you to be the reason the townsfolk kept their doors locked and children well away come sundown.

"I suppose." He finally says, a hand coming up from his rifle to pull his low brimmed hat off his head- a small show of reluctant respect. Though, he still keeps his distance.

Your smile relaxes a little bit just as the subtle sounds of birds chirping and the wind through the leaves surrounds you again in background noise. "It suits you." You tell him, grabbing the basket handle with both hands now.

A hint of surprise flickers across his face at the odd compliment, but it fades just as quickly as it appeared. He lets out a hum of acknowledgement, watching you carefully. If he was being honest, he didn't want to believe that the woman in front of him was a witch. You are far more delicate than that.

"What are you doing out here anyway?"

"Oh, well, I was passing through and saw all these graves. I couldn't help but feel they were lacking some flowers." You explain, lying easily and glancing down at the ones you had already spent time laying lavenders over, five or six of them still looking fresh, without as much grass regrowing over the dirt just yet. "Lavender helps with sleep, you know. It ensures a peaceful rest."

He takes a moment to look at the surrounding graves, his stomach twisting at the sight of how many there were. Ten, at least. He'd seen graveyards before, many times, but something about the lack of proper head stones and the makeshift crosses that were just wooden sticks shoved in the dirt made this feel so much darker.

He frowns as he turns his eyes back to you. "Aren't you afraid of what people say about this place? That it's cursed or something."

"Cursed?" You ask, brow furrowing slightly as you look back at him with a slightly confused smile. "It isn't cursed. It's just a forest."

You knew as much as he seemed to that what you were saying wasn't true, but "cursed" was definitely not the right word to describe it. Though, if the townspeople were saying it was cursed, well, it made more sense as to why people came in here intent on killing you more and more recently.

He can't help but notice the way your smile tightens ever so slightly at the comment, like it was forced to remain on your lips in an attempt to keep up appearances when in reality you wanted to do anything but. You were nervous.

"It don't take a genius to figure out that no one goes in these woods alone for no good reason. A lot of people get lost in here. A lot of people don't come back." He can't help but look back at the headstones of people who most likely went missing, forever lost to the forest. To you. "And I ain't ever seen you in Lincoln."

The two of you stand in the clearing for another moment, neither of you speaking. Neither of you moving as the world around the two of you seems to hold its breath. He feels himself wanting to reach out and touch you, like he was in a trance of sorts. He wants to know what you're hiding, he wants to know who you are. A large part of him already knows, subconsciously wishing it wasn't true.

He tears his eyes away, shaking his head. He wasn't here to make friends, he was here for the reward- not to start sympathizing.

"Oh," You reply quietly, unsure what to say as you force yourself to keep your eyes on him instead of looking over at the fresh graves. "I... I am sorry to hear that."

He studies you for a moment, trying to decipher your carefully worded reply. He can't tell if you actually feel sorry for those who came here and never made it out alive, or if you're just trying to cover up the fact that you may be connected to it.

"It's a shame, really. A lot of good men have gone missing out here, never to be seen again."

He looks like he's about to ask another question before he notices the way your knuckles start to turn white from gripping the basket so hard.

"Your hands are shaking." The observation is formed more like a question, an accusing tone you pick up on easily.

You look down at your hands, eyes widening a bit before you tuck them behind your back with the basket. "Oh, uh... sorry. I can't control it sometimes." You admit sheepishly.

He watches the way you try and hide your hands out of view, and it only serves to make him more suspicious of you. Why would the thought of him seeing your hands shaking make you so anxious?

He doesn't call you out on it, though. "What do you mean can't control it sometimes? Are you nervous?"

"I-I just... I haven't eaten yet today. And it runs in my family, you know. Shaky hands." You explain, trying not to sound as nervous as you are.

"You're lying." He accuses, watching your reaction carefully.

As he speaks the previous chirping of the birds and the wind in the trees and in the grass halts in an instant, like the forest itself was tensing with you. You knew what that meant. Your gaze flickers from his face down to the gun in his hands and back quickly as you take a small step back. "I- I'm not, honestly." You reply with a slightly nervous laugh, trying to lighten the atmosphere again and delay the inevitable. Either he wasn't going to hurt you, or he was the one meant to hurt you. It was a mystery of the universe you were less than eager to discover the outcome of.

His eyes flick over to the surrounding trees as the forest goes quiet, as if it was listening- waiting. He grips the rifle a little tighter when you take a step back, his shoulders tensing slightly.

"You're a very bad liar." He responds, his eyes back on you again. The change in your behaviour doesn't go unnoticed by him, as he slowly starts to lift his rifle to an almost aiming position.

"Don't-" You urge him quickly, your eyes going wide again with more urgency as you hold a hand up to try and stop him. In the same moment he starts to lift his gun, the clouds seem to cover the sun and the beautiful beams of light entering the clearly through the trees is all but gone to gray.

His eyes flick up to the sky as the forest is cast into darkness. He isn't an idiot, he doesn't believe that clouds could move across the sky that quickly- only one other thing could make a place this dark this fast.

"...You did that." He points out with an accusatory tone, his eyes back on you as he adjusts the rifle, aiming the barrel straight at you.

You drop the basket, raising your hands as the still air picks up a somewhat electric buzz to it, the sky darkening further. You didn't know what the forest had done to the other men, but you suspected you were about to find out.

"I-I didn't, I haven't done anything. I swear." You promise him, voice shaking a bit.

He holds the gun steadily as he watches you closely, the way your eyes dart around the clearing as if searching for a way out, the way the air is now thick with something that he can't put his finger on. It's something that makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand straight up, it's something that feels dangerous. He's always been attuned to it.

"Don't bullshit me." He says, cocking the rifle with a click. His eyes watch you like a hawk, the barrel of the gun now pointed directly between your bright, enchanting irises.

"I know why you're here." You stammer out quickly, slowly moving your hands out to your sides toward the trees on either side of you as the leaves start to rustle more urgently in the wind. "I mean... I don't know why but I know you're here to kill me, right?"

He tenses slightly as you begin to move your hands toward the trees, his finger hovering dangerously close to the trigger of his rifle. "You have the townsfolk scared shitless. They put a damn price on your head, and word spreads fast." He tilts his head, continuing to watch you intently as the air becomes more and more electric.

"What?" You ask, to him looking genuinely confused as you watch his finger graze over the trigger. "I-I've never even been into town. I've never done anything to them."

The wind picks up then, blowing wickedly through your hair and ruffling the skirts of your dress.

His body tenses at the feeling of the wind blowing so fiercely, the trees beginning to sway with the force of it. The air is thick, almost electric in a way that can't possibly be natural, and he's beginning to realize just what he's gotten himself into.

"You expect me to believe you?" He responds, the barrel of the gun still aimed at your head. He doesn't know why he hasn't fired already, he knows he's staring down the sights of his hunting rifle directly at the witch he was meant to kill. Who has killed six of Lincoln's bravest men and is currently standing over their graves.

When he moves the gun you wince, and the sound of the trees shifting becomes almost more intentional now as you hold your hands up higher at either side of your body. "I-I'll explain... Just... just put down the gun. Please."

"Why should I do that?" He asks, keeping his aim on you despite the trees that now seem so alive all around you- like they were whispering.

"You just have to trust me!" You call out, now that the wind was getting louder and louder, the sky darker as the trees closed in on the two of you, more specifically, the branches reaching for him.

He clocks it quickly; the branches slowly creeping down, the leaves reaching out towards him. It was like they were going to reach out and grab him at any moment, and the idea is making the hair on his arms stand straight up. It wasn't real, he knew better than that.

"How... how are you doing this?" He asks, his eyes flicking back to you, his rifle still raised.

"I'm not!" You shout, hands pushed out on either side of you as you squint against the wind, expression tense as the air pushes in on you from every direction. "I'm trying to stop it, just drop the gun!"

His eyes dart between you and the trees, noticing the way the branches are slowly inching towards him, and how you seem to almost be trying to push them back, your entire body tensing with some unknown effort.

"And if I drop the gun and you try something, huh?" He yells back, his finger still resting against the cool metal of the lightened trigger.

"You'll end up dead either way!" You shout, squeezing your eyes shut now as a couple small roots start to slowly coil around his ankles. "I don't want to bury you! Just drop it!"

He glances down at the roots slowly making their way up his lower legs, and his eyebrows furrow as he tries to comprehend how in the hell something like this is even possible. Finally, he grunts, clicking the safety back on his rifle and dropping it to the dirt. As soon as the weapon is out of his hands, the atmosphere in the clearing changes.

Even with your eyes shut, you can feel the pressure get taken off of you as soon as he drops the gun.

You drop your hands back down to your sides, winded from the exertion of keeping him alive. It seemed to have moved quick, the forest in its efforts to eliminate the threat, but you have to imagine it was much slower than it was when it set its sights on the other men who set foot in here to kill you.

"Are you okay?" You ask, gasping to catch your breath as the roots remain wrapped loosely around his ankles, incase it needed to grab him again quickly. Though, the skies had mostly cleared and the wind had stopped now.

He stands frozen in place for a moment, his breath heavy in his lungs as adrenaline courses through his veins and his heart hammers violently in his chest. "I.... I'm fine I think..." He responds, looking down at the roots still clinging to his ankles. He's at a loss as to how the hell something like that can even happen, even more so how you could make that happen.

He tries to get his legs free from the roots, but they cling to him stubbornly, even when he pulls with his full weight. He huffs in frustration, dropping himself to sit down on the ground. "Are you gonna get those things to let go of me? I dropped the damn gun."

They tighten a bit as he talks to you like that and you watch as more vines slither across the ground and wrap around his rifle, dragging it away while also doing the same with the revolver on his hip.

"I... I can't." You admit quietly, wringing your hands nervously in front of you. "I told you, I'm not doin' it."

His eyes widen as the roots from the ground pull his revolver off of him, and the vines drag his rifle towards some far off tree line. He realizes promptly he's being toyed with- like a mouse to an un-hungry cat.

"The hell do you mean you can't?" He asks frustratedly, his eyes locked on you as you fidget in place. His heart is still pumping faster than it has in years. "Do it!"

"I-I, well-"

You start, ready to try and explain but you don't get very far before he's quickly hoisted up off the ground by his feet, being hung upside down as bullets and coins rain from of his pockets. He curses loudly over your yelp of surprise as the forest tosses him up into the air, leaving him to hang by his ankles nearly twenty feet above the ground. He can feel the blood quickly rushing to his head, leaving him dizzy as the items in his pockets come tumbling out. As he tries to reach for something, he loses his balance and starts to swing back and forth like a pendulum.

You wince in sympathy as you hesitantly reach out toward him before pulling your hand back quickly. "Sorry, sorry..." You say through clenched teeth, a guilty expression on your face.

"Could you... please... get me down?" He asks in a strained voice, trying his hardest to keep what was left in his stomach where it was.

You frown, taking a small, hesitant step closer. "I... I told you, I'm not doin' it." You repeat, glancing down at the small objects that fell from his pockets.

"Do you... always carry that many bullets?"

This is the first time in a forever that he's felt so defenseless, hanging from his feet in some clearly, definitely cursed forest. Still, he tries to ignore the humiliation he feels at being in this position, trying to keep his cool while also trying to keep in his breakfast.

"I like to be prepared." He responds tightly, his eyes staring at the ground as he continues to swing back and forth slowly above you.

"For what..?" You ask, knowing that now probably isn't the time, but you truly are curious. And it's not like he could hurt you at the moment.

He pauses for a second, thinking it over before shrugging awkwardly in his hung up position. "You never know when danger might come knocking." He explains, his eyes continuing to be locked on the grass below him. This was a damn embarrassing position to be in with an audience, especially a pretty one.

"Yeah I... I guess so..." You agree, unsure what to do as the vines circle him further, searching inside his clothes for more weapons, no doubt.

He lets the forest strip him of his weapons in silence, his pride already bruised for the day anyway. He only lets out a small grunt as a particularly sharp branch pokes him in the stomach, searching for anything else that might be hidden.

"If I ask you something, these things aren't gonna try and strangle me or anything, right?" He calls down, gritting his teeth as his blood continues to rush to his head.

You can't help but giggle a little as you look up at him, his arms dangling below his head and his shirt starting to fall a little bit as well.

"I don't think so." You say, tilting your head slightly and squinting against the sun as it comes back with your quiet laughter, surrounding you in more warmth and lighter air.

He watches you as you laugh, watching the way your eyes crinkle and the way your smile spreads across your face. He's starting to realize that he's pretty unfortunately attracted to you, especially with the way the sunlight hits you the way it always seems to. Taunting him, tempting him- you were a gift from the trees he doesn't think he would do very well to try and pluck away from the stem.

He takes a breath, swallowing hard and lifting his hands to try and swat away the vine digging into the waistband of his trousers to get at the dagger he had there. "Why aren't you scared of me?"

You giggle again, lowering your hand as some of the tree branches grow up and out in the perfect spot to shield only your eyes from the sun.

"No offense, but you're not exactly very fear-inducing at the moment." You reply, watching in slight amusement as he dangles from the roots, spinning slowly without an ounce of control over it.

He watches you shield your eyes with the branches, finding himself a little surprised at how the forest seems to bend to your will. Despite that, a small smile appears on his face, his arms crossing in front of his chest. "What're you talking about? I'm terrifying."

You let out another laugh as he tried to cross his arms over his chest, and then the birds are singing again. The roots start to lower him just a little bit at his lighthearted joke and the way it made me smile, and he finally stopped resisting.

"Yeah, I'm quakin' in my boots."

He rolls his eyes as he lets the plants lower him down, still trying not to look completely humiliated. "Very funny, smartass. Mind telling them to lower me the rest of the way?"

The roots quickly jerk him back up again at the comment and your smile drops as you wince again. His lips form into a tight line when the roots yank him back up again, his head spinning as all his blood shoots straight back to his brain. "I can't tell them what to do, unfortunately." You remind him, head still tilted back at a mildly uncomfortable angle to look up at him.

"They seemed to listen to you just a minute ago to give you some shade." He mutters, feeling like an idiot just hanging there.

"I didn't ask for them to do that." You reply, another small smile tugging at your lips that seems to bring the sun back just a bit.

He watches as your lips pull into a smile again, noticing the way the sun seems to come back just a little every time it does. He's starting to get it, even if he was far from a comprehensive or even realistic understanding.

"Oh, so this stuff is just what- a coincidence now?" He asks, gesturing to a nearby tree that had pushed its branches out to act as your own personal umbrella.

You look up at the branches over your head before back at him. "Okay, well, I never said that." You chuckle, standing on your toes and reaching up to one of the leaves, letting a ladybug crawl onto your fingers.

He watches you stand on your toes and reach up, nymph-like in the most graceful of ways- a sight if he's ever seen one. He can't help but notice how the sun seems to break through the trees a little more now, lighting your face and hair up in a way that's almost angelic. He can feel his mouth starting to go dry as he watched you play with the ladybug. "So... you talk to bugs too?"

"What? No." You giggle, letting the bug crawl up your arm and into your hair. They did really seem to like your hair, something you had always picked up on. You didn't like it much, but they never stayed for long. Just explored for a few moments before continuing on their merry way. "It's... it's more complicated than that. More like a feeling. Not with bugs," You explain quickly. "Just like... the space, if that makes sense."

He lets his eyes linger on the small red bug that was currently making a home in your hair, trying to distract himself from the way a few strands of it seemed to fall against the exposed skin of your collarbone.

"I'll be honest... not really." He responds, a small smile on his face, "I'm not much acquainted with stuff like that."

When you look up at him again, smile widening a bit when you see he's smiling too, the roots start to lower him another foot or so again. "That's alright. I don't really get it either." You shrug softly.

He lets out a small huff of laughter as he's lowered down again, finally feeling like he's starting to get used to hanging upside down. "Well, I guess we're two peas in a pod then, huh?" The sun breaks through the trees even further, casting a golden glow on both of you and the plants surrounding you.

You grin up at him and his flushed red face as you step out of the little umbrella and pick up his hat from the ground, dusting it off before starting to gather all his things and setting them inside like it was a bucket.

"So... what did you say was happening in the town? Livestock are dyin'? People gettin' sick?"

He watches you dust off his hat and collect his belongings as you speak, trying to ignore the flutter in his chest that he felt when he saw you handling his stuff like it was the most casual thing in the world.

"Yeah..." He responds, his voice sounding a little distracted, "No one's been able to figure out why for months now. They tried blaming it on all sorts of things, but nothing's worked so far... that's why I'm here."

"They think it's me." You comment, nodding slightly, picking up the last of his things before standing up again, looking up at him.

He watches you brush down your dress, his eyes lingering longer than they should on the gentle curve of your waist and how your seemingly soft hand smoothed over the surface. With the sun lighting you up like you were an angel sent from heaven itself? Maybe you were just as dangerous as they said. "Well... are you?"

Your brow furrows slightly and you shake your head, a small frown pulling at your lips. "No... I... Like I said I've never even been to the town. Okay, well, maybe once or twice, but I just like to go to the farmer's market every once in a while. I'd never want to hurt anyone."

He watches you look down sadly, noticing how your expression shifts to the sad one he saw when you were tending the graves not too long ago. He feels a pang of guilt in his chest, realizing his comment had been a little thoughtless.

"Hey, I didn't mean..." He starts, pausing for a moment as the vines slowly let him down even lower, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have assumed."

"It's not your fault." You reply, watching him get lowered a little bit further. "If everyone believes it, I wouldn't expect you not to."

He's finally almost on the ground now, hanging just about eye level with you. At this point, looking at you from the upside down view makes his head spin a little.

"Yeah, well... I guess I still shouldn't have jumped to conclusions." He responds, watching as a soft breeze blows in through the clearing, messing your hair up for a moment and filling the air with the scent of wildflowers.

Your smile grows a bit at that. "Well, thank you. I appreciate that."

Then the roots are suddenly turning him upright again before he has the chance to even consider what to say, lowering him quickly to the grass and thrusting him forward into you. "Whoa..!" He stumbles forward, suddenly upright again, only to be flung forward at full speed straight into you. He grabs your arms by instinct, trying to keep from knocking you both backwards but failing as both of you land on a soft area of moss. The two of you fall back onto the ground, him landing on top of you with a soft thud. He can feel his heart racing in his chest as he looks down at you below him.

You're shocked at first, getting your bearings quickly though as you look up at him and into his blue eyes. It feels like you're looking straight through him at the beautiful and now clear sky above you, and you can't help but giggle when you've realized what happened. Clearly, the forest didn't see him as a threat to you anymore; stripped bare of his weapons and armed only with an apology for making assumptions.

His heart skips a beat the moment you start to laugh, the sound like music to his ears. He'd never heard a prettier sound than that. His heart hammers against his chest as he looks down at your face, the sunlight streaming through the tree tops to perfectly light up your face, giving you a golden glow. He can feel his mouth going dry again, just like it did earlier. He had never found someone so beautiful before, and for a moment, he's scared he's fallen victim to your rumoured enchantments.

He realizes after a moment how long he's been staring, and how close the two of you are. His face was so close he could see the individual lashes framing your eyes, the freckles spread across your skin, the light flush across your cheeks. His eyes fall to your lips, realizing how soft they looked... and how he badly he would like to taste them... Oh, he must be enchanted somehow.

"Are you quite alright?" You giggle, shifting a little bit, unwilling to outright ask him to get off. "I didn't expect them to throw you like that."

The giggling helps snap him out of it, and he suddenly realizes just how embarrassing the situation looks, and how strange it is that the forest would even do that to begin with. He scrambles to get off of you, sitting beside you on the ground.

"Yeah.. yeah... I'm fine...." He responds sheepishly, a flush on his own face as a few stray pieces of moss stick onto his clothes.

His face was still burning, and he couldn't get the sight of you laughing out of his head. The way your eyes had sparkled, how your hair had been splayed out around you against the grass... he shakes his head, trying to dispel the thoughts. He didn't have time to be getting all distracted like this. He glances over to you, noticing how your hair was still messy from the fall, a few blades of grass sticking out of it as a few flowers from the surrounding area are caught in the strands too.

You close your eyes, letting out a soft sigh as he moves off of you, smiling a little to yourself as you feel the sun on your skin. Just for that, it seems to burn a little brighter.

After a few moments you push yourself up so you're sitting as well, your gaze finding him again. "You must really believe me."

He tilts his head slightly, watching you push yourself into a sitting position beside him, your back against the tree and the sun still shining through the branches onto your face. He can feel his heart skip a beat as he stares.

"How do you figure that?" He blinks, trying to snap out of it and trying not to think too hard about how he was starting to feel towards you so quickly.

You nod over to the roots and vines retreating slowly back into the tree line. "They wouldn't have let you down otherwise."

He glances back over to the trees, watching the roots and the vines disappear back into the underbrush. He'd almost forgotten they were there, so distracted by you. A frown tugged at his lips, he should never be this distracted.

"I guess you're right..." He responds.

"You were the first to even get that close." You admit quietly, a thoughtful expression on your face as you glance over at the makeshift crosses and mounds of dirt a few feet away.

He lets out a soft breath of disbelief, his eyes flickering back and forth between you and the little burial site, a wave of guilt washing over him as he realizes just how rude he'd been when he first got there. You had been taking care of something really important to you and he had just thrown accusations at you without even knowing you. And for some reason the forest had even allowed him to get that close... there must be a good reason.

Even in these past few minutes of speaking to you, he'd been able to tell that you weren't dangerous, and hell- you were honestly one of the nicest people he'd ever met, and by far the prettiest. Not that that mattered.

He finally looks away from the crosses and focuses back on your face, noticing the grass and the flowers, and he can't help but think that they look kind of cute on you.

"Who are those for? ...If you don't mind me asking."

"The men who came before you, I assume." You tell him, looking down and picking at the grass. "You mentioned that people were hunting me, and no one came back. And I was wondering why bodies kept turning up here..."

A lump lodges in his throat as you confirm what he already knew deep down inside. He swallows hard, trying not to let the realization that he could've been just as dead as them show on his face, but by the look on yours, he knows you can tell what he's thinking anyway.

"You... didn't kill them?" He asks, trying to sound strong, but not quite keeping the trepidation out of his voice.

Your eyes snap up to his and you quickly shake your head. "No! No, I-" You defend quickly, sitting up a bit straighter and pushing yourself back a bit. "I... Like I said, they just turned up here. I come out here often to check on the older ones and lay flowers, I started coming back and there would just be someone laying there dead. I didn't... I just buried them."

His face softens slightly as he sees the panicked expression on your face, how defensive you were at the accusation, how you quickly scooted away from him as if you would run if you had to. He knew you were telling the truth. He curses himself for letting his imagination create the image of you again, standing over a corpse with your hands covered in blood- that thought alone made him somewhat nauseous.

He lets out a slow, shaky breath, his eyes glued to the little crosses. He could've been there too, no better than carrion for the animals. Of course they were the men who came before him, and he's sure the forest was much less forgiving than just hanging them by their boots and taking their guns.

"Why do you come back here every day?" He finds himself asking.

"I... uh... I don't live far." You explain, glancing back over your shoulder. "And... um... my parents are here. And my brother." You add quietly, fiddling with the crystal around your neck as you look briefly over at some much older graves at the edge of the clearing.

His eyes follow your gaze over to where a group of older, smaller crosses laid on the other side of the clearing, and the realization finally set in that you were here every day to tend the graves of your family.

"You're an orphan...." He says it like a statement instead of a question, not realizing he'd said it out loud until a moment later.

You nod softly in response, leaning back on one of your palms.

"You are too." You reply, tone gentle in the observation.

He freezes, his eyes going wide as you call him out so delicately. The way you say it, it was almost like you had looked inside and had seen him for exactly what he was.

"How'd you know?"

"I can feel it." You tell him, knowing how vague it sounded- but you didn't have any better understanding of it than he did.

He blinks, looking down at the ground as he processes that. An uncomfortable feeling settled in his stomach, knowing that somehow, you'd seen straight through every front he put up in seconds."What do you mean by that?"

You shrug slightly. "Exactly what I said. I can just... feel it. Like you can see or hear things, you know? I just... know. It's hard to explain."

He was silent for a few moments as he nodded slowly, still watching the way your fingers fidgeted with the necklace around your neck. He knew something was up with you, with how the forest seemed to welcome him when it made everyone else run. But he was starting to get the feeling he was only just scratching the surface.

He took a moment, looking up again at the simple crosses and mounds of dirt littered around the clearing, the thought that you'd had to bury your family by yourself and continue tending to their graves for who knows how long was making his heart ache in a way he didn't know was so familiar to him until he was faced with it.

"I'm sorry." He finally speaks after a few stiff moments, his voice sounding a bit softer and more tentative than before. "How old were you?"

"Fourteen." You answer quietly, looking over at him again and offering him a weak smile.

A lump forms in his throat as he takes in your answer. You'd taken care of them at only fourteen years old. The realization settled heavily in his stomach like a rock, how impossibly unfair the world was, to be dealing hands just like his out to others. To sweet girls with soft skin and perfect smiles. "Jesus ...." He mutters quietly, rubbing his hands over his tired eyes.

Picturing you as a reflection of himself, nothing more than a child, all alone in the dark forest trying her best to dig a hole for all her loved ones overturning into a vision of the last he had seen of his family. Year after hurtful year, standing over graves and tossing in handfuls of dirt to send them on their way. It made bile rise in his throat.

He looks over at you silently, and his heart aches again. He knows what it feels like to be all alone. You, in the cold, dark woods for so long with no one to look to and him, in the cold and bright lights of being hunted for his actions. You, sitting next to him on the soft forest floor, were his only chance at leaving that behind. Of looking to the future, burying you and the harm you supposedly caused behind him with his wanted posters left to blow inconsequentially in the wind. He wonders how long it had been since you had seen another face other than his in this little graveyard, and he realizes he couldn't stomach carrying your corpse back into town. If the trees would even let him take your body so far without leaving your cold skin covered in the claw marks of it's efforts to keep you here with it, nestled in the safety of its tree cover.

"No one should have to live like this... all alone." He says quietly, the words leaving his mouth before he even realizes it.

You pull at the grass in front of you mindlessly as you shrug. "I'm not alone. Not really." You say quietly.

You look over at him again, studying him for a few moments. "You're a lot more lonely than I am, I think."

He pauses at that, his heart panging in his chest again at the truthfulness of your statement. He knew you were right, he was lonely. No family, no friends. Hell- before today, he's pretty sure no one's ever looked at him the way you are now. With something like kindness. He lets out a rough sigh as he rubs the back of his neck.

"Guess we've got that in common, then."

"I guess so." You agree quietly, giving him a small, slightly sad smile.

You lean over and pick up his hat from the ground next to where you'd both fallen, checking inside that it still held all his pocket change and bullets before holding it out to him.

He stares at the hat in your hands for a moment before looking back up at you, studying the way you sat beside him with your head tilted to the side, the way your dress clung brunched up around your hips and the way your hair fell over your shoulders in messy waves in the afternoon sunlight.

He swallows hard as he reaches out and takes the hat from you, his fingers brushing yours for a second. "Thank you..."

"Of course." You hum, tucking your knees up to your chest and brushing some of the stray grass and moss off of your calves and arms. "Thanks for not killing me."

He lets out a short laugh, setting the hat back onto his head after shoving its contents back into his pockets. "I'm not going to kill you." He says firmly, his eyes following your fingers as you brush off your skirt.

A small smile twitches at your lips as you look over at him, and you feel that familiar pulsing of power in your fingertips and chest, running through your skin again.

You can feel that he means it, and you felt safe before, but even more so now.

The two of you sit in a comfortable silence for another moment, listening to the sounds of the forest around you, and he feels a sense of peace in this quiet space he'd stumbled into.

There were a hundred different ways he could be spending his afternoon. There were bounties to be collected, townsfolk to cheat at poker, and cards to be dealt and drank to. But instead, he was sitting in the middle of a makeshift graveyard with a lonely, beautiful, witch in the middle of the woods and he'd never been more at peace in his entire life.

"Are you... hungry?" You ask after a minute or so, glancing up at the sky to see whereabouts the sun was. It was likely mid to late afternoon by now, and you still hadn't eaten yet- that hadn't been a lie. You had to get back, but you didn't just want to let him go without making sure he would be able to make it back safely.

He was actually a little surprised that he hadn't thought about it. After all, he'd been walking around in the forest for hours. Now that you mention it, he can feel a hollow emptiness in his gut and a sharp pang of hunger go through his body.

"Yeah.. I could eat." He says, rubbing the back of his neck as he tilts his head up towards sky and squints against the sunlight streaming down.

You push myself up from the soft moss you were sitting on, ignoring the bits of it that clung to your dress and hair for the time being.

"Alright, well, c'mon then." You grin, glancing back at him over your shoulder as you go to collect the basket of drying lavender from the grave you were tending before he interrupted.

His eyes widen a little as he watches you stand up, his eyes lingering a little bit too long on the curve of your hips again. He shakes his head before getting up himself, gathering his things and brushing himself off before following the witch deeper into the forest that would inexplicably kill to keep her.

no taglist this time around!! my fics usually get over a hundred requests to be added to the taglist so instead i made a library! follow me over on @runningfrom2am-library and turn on notifs to get updates when i post new parts!!

[spiderlilyserendipity]

Useful 🔞🔞🔞 (Jimin x Reader)

Summary: You’ve stretched yourself thin lately and you know it, and so does your boyfriend Jimin. As Jimin always takes good care of you, you decide to give him a treat to thank him—and as always, Jimin gives you back your love tenfold. 

Tags: Dom!Jimin, Sub!Y/N, minimal plot, massages, kneeling, collars, Y/N calls Jimin sir, sub space, oral (m. and f. receiving), praise kink, breeding, cock drunk Y/N, multiple orgasms (f.), protective!jimin (🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵), aftercare!!!!!!

Warnings: Unprotected sex (don’t do that LOL)

W/C: 3055 (3k)

A/N: Guess who’s back on their bullshit? ME. Sorry I kind of disappeared again LOL being a functioning adult is the worst. Anyway, here's some massage-turned-unprotected-sex. <33

Sometimes, you get in moods like this. Moods where everything is irritating and stupid and simultaneously upsetting. You know yourself well enough to know it has to do with you stretching yourself too thin. Work? Of course you can do that task. Family? Absolutely you can attend that event. Friends? Yes, you’d love to go out tonight. 

Jimin also knows you well enough to know when you’re getting like this. You know he’s noticed, from the way he puts in a bit more effort lately to keep you happy. He buys your favourite takeout dinner and bath bombs and even a new matching scarf and gloves set to keep you warm. That’s the way Jimin is—a natural giver with a considerate, purposeful mind. He never so much as says a word to you about your little gifts, but you know he notices when you give him a few more kisses than usual to silently show your affection. 

But you’re getting to a point now where two things become obvious: you need a break before you burn out, and Jimin needs to be shown that you appreciate him before he starts to feel burned out himself. 

The solution comes in the form of an at-home spa kit you buy online. It’s not much, a little warmer and a bottle of lavender scented oil, along with some candles and little hand towels. But knowing Jimin—and knowing you—you don’t stop there. Instead, you hop in the shower as soon as you come home. You wash up and dress in only panties and one of Jimin’s oversized sweaters, light candles and then warm up the oil. 

As your shared bedroom is filled with romantic lighting and the sweet lavender smell, your mind wanders. You think of Jimin’s face when he sees you like this, how his eyes will darken and a smirk will spread on his lips. You think of taking care of him and thanking him for all he does for you with both words and your hands on his body. And naturally, you think of how Jimin will return the favour—with firm words and strong arms around you. A perfect balance of sweetness, teasing, and protectiveness: that’s Park Jimin. 

Your eyes flicker to the collar you set on the nightstand, a black leather collar with plush inner lining and a custom silver J embroidered on the front. You press your thighs together, waiting. 

“Baby?” Your heart leaps as you hear Jimin’s voice down the hallway. Your boyfriend emerges from the hall, curious eyes peeking into the dimly lit room. Then, he sees you, scantily dressed in front of the bed. Jimin smiles, but there’s that familiar edge. “Oh, what’s this?” He asks. 

You lick your lips as Jimin draws closer, loosening his tie. “A surprise.” You whisper. 

Jimin laughs, taking a seat on the bed. “I can see that.” He says, glancing at the massage oil. Your boyfriend brings you to stand between his spread legs with both hands on your wrists. You swallow as he looks up at you with darkness in his eyes. “What kind of surprise, exactly?”

“A massage.” You reply, pressing your thighs together again. Jimin notices, but he’s not strict with you today—he knows you’re too worked up to be teased today. Instead, the man leans in, pressing kisses against your belly over your sweater. You shiver—his lips are still cold from outside, even through the soft material.

“That will be fun.” Jimin says. “Thank you for doing this, baby.”

“No, thank you.” You say, and to anyone else, you would sound like strangers. But only you know the way Jimin’s simple words and touches make you want to obey him, show him how grateful you are, how well you can take care of him. Jimin knows it, too, which is why he lets go of your wrists and runs his hands—which are warm, likely from wearing mittens—up and down the backs of your thighs. “You’ve been so nice to me. I-I want to take care of you.”

Jimin hums, and it’s more beautiful than any melody you’ve ever heard. “Mmhm.” He says, and one hand brushes over your clothed core. You shiver. “Want to submit to me?” He asks, then begins kneading your ass. His touch is firm, reminding you of your place even as you tower over him. 

“Please.” You gasp. “Please, sir.”

“Go get your collar.” Jimin answers, letting go of you. He leans back on his hands as you scurry to the nightstand and back. You kneel on the plush rug by Jimin’s feet, then present your collar to him with both hands. The dom accepts it from you, and you elongate your neck for his ease of access. Jimin plants his elbows on his knees, bending over you to fix the collar in place. “What’s your colour, baby?” The dom asks even though you both know how desperate you are already.

“Green, sir.” 

“Good girl.” Jimin says, then stands up. You look up at him, face a few inches below his clothed cock. Jimin’s eyes darken. He knows what you want, and you both know he’s never denied it to you within limits. You wait patiently as the dom removes his pants, then his boxers and discards them on the floor. When Jimin sits down, you grab the warmed bottle of massage oil off the bed. 

“May I begin, sir?”

“Yes.” Jimin answers, and even he sounds slightly breathless now.

You begin on his right leg, massaging his thigh dutifully. You work away at the knots caused by long hours, then down to his calf. “You have a talent for this.” Jimin praises you, carding a hand through your hair. Your face burns as you sit between his legs and serve him, but you feel so good, so useful. And Jimin is nothing if not vocal about it. “Such a quick learner. My good, smart girl.”

“Thank you.” You whisper as you finish massaging the right leg, then move to his left leg. You repeat your motions, slow and dutiful. As you work at one particular knot in the back of Jimin’s left calf, he sighs in relief. You smile and Jimin catches it. 

“Feel good that you’re helping me?” He asks, and you look up at him. Jimin cups your face with one hand, looking down at you with love. It makes you want to cry in joy, but it also makes your vagina throb as you want to give yourself to him. But you tell yourself to be patient. You want to make Jimin feel good, and you know Jimin will return it tenfold to you in due time. “Massage my hips for me, baby. They’re a bit sore.”

You nod, putting a bit more oil on your hands. You place your hands on Jimin’s hips, running your thumbs along the groove of his V-line and pressing your fingers into his hips. You work at his hips until you end up down at his mons pubis and then lower, where a hard, heavy cock hangs between his legs. “C-Can I help you with that, too, sir?” You ask, and you surprise yourself with how whiny it comes out. 

Jimin laughs at your politeness. “Of course, beautiful.”

You lick your lips, running your slicked hands over Jimin’s cock. You run your hands up and down the shaft, collecting pre-come to lubricate him further. You take the tip in your mouth, swirling your tongue around. Jimin groans above you, spilling praise from his lips. “Oh, that’s right. Just like that. So good, so perfect for me.”

His praise urges you to take him deeper until your nose presses against his mons pubis. You use your hands to cup his balls, massaging them gently. You work your way up and down the shaft, with Jimin’s ever-louder sighs and curses egging you on. You can feel the tightness in Jimin’s abdomen, the way he wants to come in your mouth. And you’d let him, oh how you’d let him. 

But before he can come, Jimin pulls you off him. You look at him, confused. “Come here.” Jimin says, and you climb up into the bed. You eye his cock, but Jimin gives you a breathless chuckle. “You haven’t massaged my back yet, remember?” He reminds you. You blush, and Jimin beckons you closer with two fingers. You position yourself behind him, sitting with your thighs on either side of Jimin’s hips, and add more oil to your hands before massaging his shoulders. 

Jimin sighs as you work away the tension, and his hands find your calves, stroking small circles into your skin. You’re halfway down Jimin’s back when he wraps his arms around your calves and pulls. You gasp as you end up with your clothed vagina against his bare ass. Jimin chuckles, and you know he can feel how wet you are. Flushing in embarrassment, you try to shuffle back, but your boyfriend holds you in place. “I think that’s enough for my back. Why don’t you come over to the front?” Jimin purrs, glancing at you over his shoulder. You gasp as he presses himself back against your soaked panties.

“Y-Yes sir.” You say, and Jimin releases your calves. 

You crawl around Jimin, and the dom lays down. He folds his arms up behind his head, looking comfortable like he’s laying on a sunbed somewhere warm. “Get on my lap.” He says. “And take everything off.”

You remove the two articles you’re wearing in a heartbeat, then straddle your boyfriend’s hips. It’s a struggle to not push yourself down on the leaking cock tucked just behind your ass, since Jimin hasn’t given you permission to ride him yet. 

You run your oiled hands up and down Jimin’s abdomen, over the hard ridges of his ribs and the plushness of his belly. Jimin looks at you for a moment, then grins. “You know, I’m not a big fan of this oil. Can we try something else for wetness?” 

“L-Like?” You ask, but Jimin just holds his hands out to you. You flush, knowing what he wants.

You crawl closer, until you’re straddling Jimin’s face. “Oh, that’s much better.” He says, then breathes cool air onto your already throbbing clit. “Such a useful, useful girl I have.” Jimin says. Before you can thank him, he presses his tongue past the opening of your sopping wet hole. You whimper, almost collapsing but JImin holds you up with his strong grip. “So busy being useful you forgot you’re supposed to feel good, too, didn’t you?” He asks, looking up at you darkly. “But you’re always like that. Always thinking you have to do it all alone, even though I’m right here—” He says, then swirls his tongue around inside you. You cry out. 

“Sorry! I’m sorry, sir!” You beg.

Jimin licks a stripe from your hole up to your clit. Then, he sucks at the bud until you’re shaking above him. “Are you? Are you going to let me put you in your place?”

“Yes, yes, sir!” You chant.

Jimin releases one hand from your hips, sliding it down the curve of your ass until it finds your hole. He presses two digits inside you, and you accommodate them easily. “Good girl.” He praises you, and you’re almost crying by now. You cry out his title. “Count.” He orders.

“T-Ten…N-Nine…” You count, trembling from the force of not coming from Jimin’s skillful lips against your most sensitive lips. “Eight…s-seven, oh—” You moan as Jimin nips at your inner fold, then releases it. Then, Jimin begins pumping his fingers in and out of you faster. “S-Six, five, four—” You continue as Jimin eggs you on. 

“T-Three, oh, two, one—” You pant heavily.

“Now.” Jimin orders and tears fall from your eyes and you shake so hard from your orgasm that he has to hold you up. “Good girl. That’s my girl.” He praises you, turning you so you can lay down against the bed.

“Yours. Yours.” You repeat hazily as Jimin arranges himself above you. He plants his hands on either side of your waist, then kisses you long and deep. 

“Colour?” He checks. 

“Green, please, sir.” You say, guiding his hand up to your collar. “Yours, please, sir.” You all but babble. Jimin beams with pride. 

“That’s right. All mine.” Jimin says, kissing at your hardened nipples, then down to your belly. With one hand, he begins rubbing at your clit again. He works you back up until you’re whiny and grinding against him for another orgasm. “Would my good girl like my cock?” Jimin asks, even though he knows the answer.

“Yes!” You answer immediately. 

“Where?” Jimin teases. You reach down and spread your outer folds, not caring how messy you look right now. Jimin’s gaze darkens. “Right here? In your pretty hole?” He asks, sliding two fingers back into you. You whine as he wiggles the fingers inside you until the room is full of wet sounds. 

“Yes, please. W-Want your cock, sir.” You beg, clenching around his fingers.

Jimin withdraws his fingers, then lines himself up to your entrance. You both moan as he bottoms out within seconds from how soaked and loose you are. “Where do you feel that, baby?” Jimin asks, more for his pride than any other reason. 

You place a hand on your belly. “Right here.” You say. “All full.”

“Yeah?” Jimin says, gripping your thighs and pushing them further apart. He thrusts in and you have to fight not to come right then and there. 

“Yeah.” You whimper. “W-Want your come right there.”

“I know.” Jimin coos at you. “You need your hole nice and full, don’t you? Need to fill up your pretty belly with my seed so you remember who you belong to. So you can quit. Trying. To do. Everything. By yourself.” Jimin says, punctuating his words with long and deep strokes that have your back arching off the bed.

“P-Please sir.” You whine. “Your seed. Please.”

“Gonna come again already?” Jimin asks, knowing your body well. When you reply yes and plead him for permission, Jimin leans down and kisses your forehead. “Hold on a bit more, you can do it.”

“Y-Yes. Yes. Anything you say!” You say, feeling cock drunk. It doesn’t take more than that, only a few more pumps until Jimin’s hips are stuttering from the way you clench him desperately—even as he’s moving. 

“Rub your clit.” Jimin orders, and you reach down, rubbing hard and fast. Within seconds, Jimin is slamming into you one last time, filling you with his hot seed. You come hard around him a second time, but Jimin isn’t done there. He pulls you up, making you squeal. You whine as your positions reverse, with you on top and Jimin laying down. “You can come around me one more time, since you were such a good, good girl.” He praises, entangling a hand in your hair. His grip is firm but not painful. 

“Thank you, sir.” You reply gratefully, running your fingers over your clit. There’s something exhilarating about being stuffed full of come and getting to put yourself on display with it. You make a show of pushing yourself to a third orgasm around Jimin, his seed making both of your thighs sticky and gooey. 

“Show yourself to me again.” Jimin demands, and you spread your folds to him again. The dom growls. “Such a pretty cunt. Who owns that?”

“You, sir!”

“That’s right.” Jimin replies. “Gonna come again for me? My good girl, making a mess with my seed?”

“Yes, please!” You all but scream.

“What a pretty fucking girl. I want to give you my come again and again, until you can feel a baby growing where I put my seed. You would love that, wouldn’t you? Being shown off to everyone as the pretty, obedient girl I got to knock up and to take care of?”

“Yes, oh, please—” You’re crying again, almost insane with the thought of being protected and taken care of by Jimin. You’re so deep into your subspace by now all you can think of is how safe and good you feel right now. “Please, all yours—”

“Come.”

The single word sends you over the edge, and you tremble around him a third time. You lay down on top of Jimin with his cock still inside you. The dom wraps his arms around you, holding you close. “So sweet. My perfect baby.” He praises you, peppering kisses on your temple and forehead. 

“Thank you. Thank you sir.” You repeat over and over, and Jimin holds you tight. 

Once you’re ready, Jimin slides out of you. You roll onto the sheets, but Jimin doesn’t give you time to get lazy. “Come on, we need to shower.” He says, pulling you up into his arms bridal style. You squeal, tucking your chin over his shoulder. 

Jimin helps you shower, particularly gentle with your hips and legs as he knows they’re sore now. He helps you dress in your pyjamas. Then, he lifts you onto the counter, insisting on doing your skincare routine for you. You giggle but let him help you, knowing he likes to spoil you like this. Once you’re done, you hold your arms out to be carried back to bed. Jimin laughs, kissing you again. 

“Oh, you’re a real menace.” Jimin complains dramatically, setting you down in the armchair a few paces from the bed. You grin up at him, and Jimin strokes a hand down the side of your face lovingly. “I’ll be right back.” He says. 

You watch him leave the room, then return with two granola bars and a bottle of water. “I know you ate, but just in case.” Jimin says, watching you open the snacks. While you eat and drink water, your boyfriend changes the bedsheets and blows out the candles. Once he’s done with that, you join him in bed. Jimin envelopes you in his arms, kissing your forehead softly. 

“That wasn’t too much for you, was it?” He checks. 

“No, not at all.” You say, feeling shy when Jimin looks at you with that intense look—like he’d do anything to make sure you’re comfortable and safe. “Thank you.” You add.

Jimin smiles. “You’re welcome, my love.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, my baby.”

[bullet-prooflove]

Stay Tonight: Dwight Manfredi x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @skellyagogo @sca3a @kenbechillin @mandy426

Companion piece to:

Dior - Dwight wakes up to the scent of Dior and lipstick on his chest.

Gunpowder & Roses - Dwight's enemies make a mistake when they come after you.

Hell of A Message - You send a message to your ex Bill.

The Cowboy At Your Door - Your ex Bill shows up in response to your message.

You’re tired.

Dwight can see that the moment you open the door to him. Your smile doesn’t quite meet your eyes and there’s a weariness in you that he’s never seen before. He realises that’s because you hide this part of yourself, the human side, the vulnerable side. He wants you to know you don’t have to do that with him, that he wants every part of you, not just the persona you put on for everybody else.

“You gonna let me take care of you tonight?” He asks you as he leans in the doorway, the black leather overnight bag clasped in his hand.

“I’m too tired to fuck.” You tell him and he smiles because he finds your forthrightness very refreshing.

“Well I’d like to think I’m a good cuddler.” He tells you and it’s your turn to smile because it’s been a long time since you’ve gone to bed with a man that hasn’t wanted something from you.

He takes his time undressing you, his fingers undoing the each of the buttons of the dress shirt you’re wearing as his gaze stays fixed on yours. You’re beautiful even with the bruising. A masterpiece draped in cotton and ink. This thing between the two of you, it may have started as a very physical attraction but it’s become more far more than that over the past few weeks.  The fabric flutters from your shoulders, falling to the floor before Dwight helps you to remove your bra and panties. He picks up the blue and white striped pyjama set you’ve already laid out across the bed, helping you into the elasticated shorts before drawing the shirt up your shoulders and fastening each of the buttons.

“Thank you.” You say softly as his thumb ghosts along your jaw and he realises it’s been a long time since someone has looked after you.

“You don’t have to thank me.” He whispers, his mouth capturing yours in a tender kiss. “This is what you do when you care about someone.”

He gets you settled into bed before he begins to unpack his own overnight bag, setting the items down onto dressing table and chair. He likes the look of his things intermingled with yours, the blend of masculinity and femininity, he wonders if this is what it could look like in the future if you continue down this road.

“Dwight.” You say with a hint of amusement as he pulls out his clothing. “Did you bring pyjamas?”

“I did.” He says as he turns to face you, holding up the black silk bottoms. “I thought I’d bring the  appropriate attire considering we’re having our first sleepover.”

The two of you have fucked before but he never wakes up with you, you always leave before the sun rises. Him being here tonight, it changes things, it shows that he’s invested, the fact you’re letting him stay, it shows that you are too.

“I hope you don’t snore.” He says as he climbs into bed alongside of you. His arm wraps around your waist, gathering you up close. Your legs tangle with his as he tucks you in against his chest.

“I wouldn’t know.” You tell him, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “You’re the first man to sleep over since I bought the place.”

“That seems fitting considering you were my first.” He whispers, his lips brushing over yours.

His fingertips trace over your features and he can feel your body starting to relax against him as your eyes flutter closed. You’re breathing starts to even out and you nuzzle in a little closer, your palm coming to rest on the space where his heart resides in his chest.

People think that sex is the most intimate thing you can do with a person but Dwight thinks it’s this. Putting your faith in someone else when you’re at your most exposed, it’s not something people in your line of work do. He thinks it speaks volumes about the direction your relationship is heading.

“Good night baby.” He whispers, his lips ghosting over your temple. “I hope you have the sweetest damn dreams.”

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[biowhore]

These Hands

Gale x gn!reader, Gale x gn!Tav

Content/Tags: Soft, slow, NSFW, service top Tav/reader, oral, penetration, short, one-shot

Context: Between the ending of Act 2 and the beginning of Act 3, on the road to Baldur's Gate. Light spoilers for the end of Act 2, Gales overall story and a non-spoilery reference to the Act 2 romance scene.

Word count: 2.3k

“You should be with me in this… Let me-“ With one last kiss to his palm, you bring his hand to your chest, resting just over your heart. “I’m already here with you.” Your hips still with your next words, “I love you. Let me show you.”

Fic List AO3

After the battle with Ketheric Thorm the group has finally made its way on the road to Baldur’s Gate. The days have been long, and with many still recovering from the battle, everyone has decided to take a well-earned day of rest before continuing the last leg of the journey to the city.

Gale had unsurprisingly and generously produced a cozy space for you both to laze the day away in. His space is now closer to a library than a tent, with bookshelves lining a spun illusion of a tower room, plush carpets laid out on every inch of the floor, and a quiet fire burning in a hearth on one wall.

You grinned at him when first stepping inside, “Your home? In Waterdeep?” You teased him.

“I didn’t show you before, so now felt as good a time as any. Nothing in all the realms is more relaxing than my library,” he said with a decidedly pretentious tone.

With a knowing grin, you held up your hands in acquiescence and headed for the pile of pillows tucked between two of the bookshelves. Who were you to argue with a wizard about his tower?

Now, you’ve stirred from a long nap nestled into Gale’s side on the pillows as he reads a large tome picked up from somewhere on the journey. Probably the Sharran temple.

“Mmm… this was a great idea, I must admit.” You mumble into his shoulder as you wake.

Gale winds his arm around your hip, tucking you even closer. “That implies you had doubts about our afternoon of languor, and I must say I’m a bit offended. I have great ideas. Particularly when it comes to you.”

You let out a groggy snort as you stretch your free arm across his chest, continuing your ascent back to the waking world.

He turns his head away from his book to nuzzle your hair, “Go back to sleep,” he mumbles into your scalp. “You took some hard hits during the battle with Thorm. Or are you hungry? I can whip up the stew you like. Or could I interest you in a book from my vast collection? I have one in mind I think you’ll find fascinating. Or-“

You cut him off when you start quietly chuckling into his shoulder. This man nearly met his own end and yet he seeks to serve you.

“I’ll advise you it is unwise to laugh at a man’s stew.” He says with a grin.

You lift your head to meet his gaze, a soft smile on your lips, and wiggle out of his hold to straddle his middle. You gently remove that hefty tome of his and set it aside. Your hand shifts up his chest to lightly, absently trace the lines of his orb sigil along his neck.

“I only realized that I’d like to do something for you,” you say softly.

Gale’s grin falters momentarily, “I could not ask more of you, who have already given me everything.”

Your heart soars at his words, but you know Gale. You know just how deserving he is of everything you have to offer, yet he would not ask for it. He would not ask for anything for fear of not being worthy of it, despite all you’ve shared together. He must be shown how deserving he is, you decide. Slowly, perhaps he will come to see that he can receive the same love and care that he graces you with.

His hands reach for you after you’ve paused too long in your contemplating, but you catch his wrists. Closing your eyes, you plant a soft kiss at his right wrist, listening to his small, somewhat awed sigh at the touch. Your plan takes form in your mind, and you drop his left hand to begin work on his right. Beginning at his wrist, your thumbs move in small circles, massaging the muscle and small joints. As you move up toward to his elbow and back down to the wrist, squeezing lightly to continue massaging, Gale lets out another sigh. Your lips twitch at his easily coaxed reactions. He clearly enjoys this attention - why not let himself ask for more? You move to his hand, methodically rubbing down the length of each finger. You get a little lost in your task, enjoying the feel of his skin as you finish with the right and move to the left. Gale’s life as a prodigy shows in his hands. Not soft, as one might imagine for a wizard, but slightly rough and dry from the constant turning of pages, of wielding a staff, of pulling from the Weave. These hands have worshiped your skin, have clinched victories, have created wonders. They are precious. Glancing up at him, he has a bemused expression but attempts to hide it with that ever-present grin. You bring both hands up to your lips to kiss his knuckles. A few small scars decorate the tops of his hands, and you take a moment to give each one their own attentions.

“Hmm…” you sigh with your lips brushing over his fingers. “These hands have done so much.”

“These hands can do more,” he says with a lift of his brows.

You chuckle, giving an index finger a little nip. “Oh yes, I’m acquainted with their skills.” You eye him mischievously, licking the tip of that same finger with your tongue. A tease. “I would know what these hands desire.”

“They want for nothing where you are concerned. How can they grant your desires? Now, there is the better question.” He replies.

Not good enough. You hold his gaze again, trying to let him see your openness, your earnestness to give him something of yourself that he deserves. Something he didn’t have to earn by being anything other than himself. You slide your tongue around that finger, bringing it into your mouth, sucking lightly from knuckle to tip.

“Nothing?” You whisper, “Nothing at all?”

His eyes are locked with yours, and you sense him tense beneath you slightly. The jovial mask of Gale of Waterdeep slips a little; in his eyes you see that yearning you suspected was there all along. They search your face, looking for deception, for conditional affection, perhaps even outright lies. But they will find none, and you will prove it to him over and over and over again. You press and encouraging kiss to his palms, catching the movement of his throat as he swallows nervously.

“You.” He says lowly. “Always you.”

Reverently placing his hands down, you lean in, taking his face between your palms. “You have me. Wholly.” You breathe onto his lips. The kiss is a brush of skin at first, then confident as he attempts to take the lead, dancing that talented tongue with yours to drive you mad. You nip at his lower lip to take back control, slowing the pace. Softly sucking on his lip as you pull back, you give him your eyes full of that openness to reassure him, as your hands move lower.

Slowly you release the buckle of his tunic, pushing the fabric up over his torso, planting treasuring kisses along his chest as you head down to his trousers. His hands make a gentle protest in your hair, but you place them back at his sides, a quiet question in your eyes as you continue. You can see the uncertainty in his gaze, the hesitation to bask in your attention, and the mix of excitement and curiosity for what you will do next. Which will win out?

He gives a soft, tentative smile as your signal to continue. You unfasten the ties for his trousers with an easy smile, tugging them down just enough, and do the same for his underwear. The moment is too precious to interrupt with disrobing completely. You are singularly focused on showing this man, in some small way, just how much you care for him.

His cock bobs, half-hard, as you reveal it. You take him in hand, pausing again with that question in your eyes as you bend down. His chest rises and falls in anticipation as he gives you a slight nod, reaching out a hand to thread through your hair loosely. Starting at the base, you give him a long, thorough lick, keeping his gaze all the while. The throaty noise Gale releases in response is delicious in your ears – you want more. His cock stiffens fully in your hand now, and you put your lips around the tip, circling and sucking. The hand in your hair twitches. More. You hear a hiss as you swallow him fully, pulling back up to flick your tongue at the sensitive underside of his head, then pushing back down, sucking hard this time. That hiss turns into a huff as your pace quickens, squeezing the base of him with your fingers. More. You want even more. Even though this is about Gale, you might be a little selfish. You want to see the faces he’s making, how his chest is heaving, how his arms are flexing to restrain himself, the shape his mouth makes with each sound. With a few last licks and sucks, you pull off, too eager to make those visions a reality. You sit up and lick your lips, watching his face as he pants and reaches for you.

You shake your head, backing off to impatiently remove your underthings. Crawling back to straddle him, you take that hand that reached out up to your mouth to kiss his wrist. You position yourself and begin to sink down slowly, almost teasingly onto his cock. His breath hitches with each rise and fall of your hips as you take him inside you. This - this is what you wanted. His rapturous expression as he fits inside you, as you squeeze him, as you bite the meat of his thumb in your own ecstasy. He is yours, and you will worship him as he deserves. Fully seated, you begin to slowly rock your hips. This isn’t a race, isn’t lewd, isn’t about your pleasure. It is intimate, and full of your will to prove him worthy of you, worthy of his own life. You kiss each knuckle of his fingers as you continue that slow, sensual rocking. His eyes are heavy-lidded, jaw slack, chest rising and falling with his panting breath as he takes in the sight of you. You are both mostly clothed, and yet it is somehow all the more passionate for it.

“I…”, he breathes, then clears his throat nervously. “I won’t last much longer with you like this.”

“Then let go,” you say softly. “This isn’t about me.”

His expression remains conflicted, flitting between pleasure and confusion of your focused attention. “You should be with me in this… Let me-“

With one last kiss to his palm, you bring his hand to your chest, resting just over your heart. “I’m already here with you.” Your hips still with your next words, “I love you. Let me show you.”

His breath shudders as your hips restart their languid rhythm. Your hand rests over his on your chest, his other hand grasping your hip as you rock, lift up slightly, and sink back down into another rocking motion. All slow, liquid movements. Your gazes are locked, your chests lifting with the same breaths, your mouths softly open with the same tender sounds of desire. The hand at your hip squeezes, and you feel his hips start to meet yours in kind. A long groan escapes him as he quickly thrusts up into you.

“Yes,” you breathe. You lean forward as his eyes fall shut, taking in his face as he comes. His cheeks flush, his brows furrow, his breath rushes out in quick pants; then all slows and relaxes into bliss. Your rhythm doesn’t stop, riding him through the high and leading him back down again. The light sheen of sweat on his brow earns a kiss from you, and you rest your head there, patiently waiting for him to return to you. His breath slows, and his eyes blink open sluggishly. That soft, wicked grin of his returns, but you notice the lingering astonishment behind his eyes, as if he still can’t quite believe you’re real despite everything.

“For once I think I’ve rendered you speechless.”

A light chuckle escapes him as he catches his breath, “Very nearly.” He swallows, “That was…”

You interrupt his search for words with a quiet kiss. You’d rather leave the moment as it is. It needs no description, only the understanding that you did it for him because you love him. You pull away with a tender caress of his cheek, sitting back and pulling his tunic back down, his trousers back up as you lift off of him. You sense him watching you, still likely contemplating if you are amongst the illusions of this room. Quietly you re-dress in your underthings and bestow more kisses on his hands as you rejoin him among the pillows on your knees. “I recall mention of stew, but what about a cup of tea first?”

“That sounds lovely.” He says with a smile. Before he can even twitch a muscle, you’ve lifted up again and are strolling toward the very real small table near the hearth housing a teapot with ready-made tea the Wizard of Waterdeep keeps magically warmed with an environmental spell. In a few moments, you’re striding back with two cups, warmed to the perfect temperature and ready to sip. You place Gale’s cup atop the tome he was perusing earlier, earning you a slightly scandalized look as he swipes the cup up, taking a sip. You chuckle to yourself as you re-take your place at his side on the pillows. As he sets his cup down – not on a book this time – you snatch his hands again.

Placing one at your cheek and one to your lips you whisper, “I can’t get enough of these hands.”

---

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it.

[satrs]

𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘮𝘢𝘯! PART 1

SYNOPSIS; random moments of the bllk men with their children!

FEATURING; BACHIRA MEGURU. MICHAEL KAISER. ITOSHI RIN. BAROU SHOEI.

TAGS; kids(duhhh). fluffffff. mention of marrige.

WORD COUNT; 1.1k

ᥲ/ᥒ ꜝꜝ ✎UHHHH YEA THIS WILL PROBABLY BECOME A SERIES LOL. Feel free to send in ideas/request for this<§§ (URGHHH I LITERALLY LOVE THEM)

BACHIRA MEGURU & EIKO

"Meguru! Eiko! Move it!" You were growing more irritated with every passing minute because of your little family. Your six-year-old  daughter Eiko and her father, who also happened to be your loving husband, were taking forever to get ready.

You got invited to your mother-in-law's for dinner today, but you were sure that you would arrive late if those rascals didn't get moving. 

Meguru offered to take it upon himself to dress your doting daughter up, giving you the time and space to get ready yourself. But oh boy, you should've done it yourself. 

"Oh no, it seems like mommy is getting angry. We should hurry up", Meguru snickered, tons of giggles filling the room with him, Eiko. He had already dressed her up nicely- some dungarees with a yellow shirt, matching his and was meanwhile putting on her shoes. 

They turned their attention to the figure standing at the door, a warning look on the young woman's face. "What even is that Meguru", you mentioned, motioning your hand from him to your daughter. "You can't go out like that."

A big pout was visible on your husband's face, your daughter joining right in, similar bright yellow orbs staring up at you. "Why not? We are twinning!" Meguru lovingly pinched Eiko's nose, a joyful giggle erupting out of her. 

"Why not mommy! I want to match with daddy!" He playfully snickered at that, lifting his daughter up in his arms and making his way towards the door with her. "Mommy is just jealous she's not in our club." Megurus playful manner made a small smirk creep up your face. "Excuse me?"

"You heard him!", Eiko said in a dramatic tone.  You admitted defeat with a loud sigh, a smile on your lips as you saw your family happily step out of your shared home.

She sure was a cheeky parent's child, always glued to his side no matter what.

MICHAEL KAISER & LINA

There was no word that could describe the things he was feeling at that moment, holding his newborn daughter in his arms, seated right next to her exhausted form on the hospital bed. 

She was here. Finally, 

All his previous worries and fears flying out the window, his whole body filled with joy and happiness, but most of all- love. He realized the moment he lay eyes on this little baby, making herself visible to the whole wide world, that he would do anything for her. 

It was really a sight to see- your usually confident and cocky lover now fighting with his tears as he carefully placed his finger into the small palm of the newborn. He looked up at you, eyes full of love and adoration. "What should we name this angel?", you asked, a lovestruck smile finding its way onto Michael's lips. 

Angel do you say? Well, he got an idea. "Lina.", he said, holding his daughter closer to him while softly stroking her head. Lina was a German name which meant 'little angel'. And Lina truly was his and your little angel. 

You flashed him an exhausted but loving smile at the sound of the name, your hand reaching out in an attempt to pull both of them closer to you. Kaiser complied, carefully laying Lina in your arms as he sat down next to you on the bed, doting you and her with kisses. 

"Hello Lina", you said, placing a big kiss on your baby's temple. Kaiser's big arm him wrapped around you, pulling him both of you closer to him. "My lovely girl. Love you both so much." 

And as you saw shining pearls of tears roll down his face, you saw your all's future in his eyes.

ITOSHI RIN & CHIKAO AND CHIMON

"No. Say Da da." both of the toddlers were seated in the highchair, waiting impatiently for you to bring them their beloved baby porridge.  Rin couldn't believe it as he heard Chikao say 'mama' and chimon 'ma' right after, happy but clearly displeased with the fact that they didn't say 'daddy', not even one of them.

"mamaaaa!", Chiako returned back at Rin, a loud and demanding voice, shocking the father right away. He sighed, but his eyes lighted up as he heard Chimon's next words. "Da." 

"Yes! Da da. Say it!" But Chikao turned his attention to you as he noticed you placed their food in front of them. "C'mon Rin. Don't be a bad loser. They'll say it one day." You went over to Chikao, lifting the spoon up to feed him. He just huffed in annoyance at your lecture, sitting in front of Chimon doing the same.

"And when? Sae is non-stop teasing me about it." You laughed at that, the image of your partner frowning while your brother-in-law picked on him a humorous thought. 

"Well, Chimon at least tried", he stated, raising his eyebrow at Chikao as he moved the spoon to his mouth, "unlike you little guy."

Chikao remained unbothered, the same static expression on his face like his father him, causing him to giggle. Suddenly, Chimon began to laugh cutely, smashing his hand on the table. "Sa sa!" Chikao was quick to follow him, making the same movement and saying the same word his twin brother did. 

Rin was flabbergastered as he realized they meant to say 'Sae', widening in shock. "Oh, so you and uncle are on the same team, huh?", he stated laughed showing no sign of stopping and soon, signs joined in. 

He couldn't help but let a smile creep up his lips as he saw you- his family so happy and joyful, looking forward to more days filled with laughter to come. 

BAROU SHOEI & RENHO

"Not like that. You need to do it like this princess."

It was a sight to see, really. Shoei and your little girl take care of the household. He had the apron you once bought for him as a gag, which read 'Big chef‘, while your daughter had a 'Lil' chef' one.

"Like this?", your five-year-old daughter questioned her father, earning a small smile from him followed by a nod. You cooed at the scene before you, causing both your chefs to turn around, their faces frowning at your pouty face. "Stop it mommy, we are working!", your daughter snapped, a surprised gasp, leaving you and Shoei at the loudness of your daughter's voice.

"Don't snap at your mom like that", Shoei's words made you smile a bit, but your smile soon disappeared at his next words. "But she's right. Stop with that all cutie look." It was your turn to frown, a dramatic huff escaping your lips.

"Alright. Since I'm disturbing you," you said, strolling over to the fridge, earning both of their attention,"I'll just eat this pudding all by myself." 

They both simultaneously turned their heads towards your direction, a loud 'No!' coming from both of them. You chuckled at their reaction, placing the pudding right back into the fridge before walking to Shoei and Renho. 

"Just kidding. We'll eat that after your delicious meal, yeah?" With that, you gave the both of them a kiss on their temple before leaving the two five-star-chefs to concentrate on their dish.



ᵃˡˡ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵉⁿᵗ ᵇᵉˡᵒⁿᵍˢ ᵗᵒ k-azus.°

[warlocksoup]

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖ AKAASHI KEIJI undone ⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖ CHAPTER ONE: evidence

HOW TO TRICK THE LOVE OF YOUR LIFE INTO DATING YOU BY DATING SOMEONE ELSE (YOUR BEST FRIEND)(JUST PRETEND THOUGH)

STEP ONE: GET YOUR MOST PUSHOVER, IN LOVE WITH YOU FRIEND TO AGREE

She tries to say no, at first, for the sake of preserving at least some of her dignity. But it’s Akaashi. She was always going to say yes, eventually.

“I dunno,” she pretends to muse, slumped out on the couch with her fingers deftly moving from button to button on the controller in her hands, eyes narrowed at the television screen in front of her. “Do you really want to start out being like, deceptive? Doesn’t seem like the best way to get a girl’s attention.”

Akaashi groans, head dropping back and his arms thrown up, exasperated and defeated. “Yeah, I know, but I’ve tried everything else, and nothing gets her attention. But if she sees you, a pretty, cool girl, going out with me, then maybe she, another, pretty, cool girl, will start to see me as someone dateable.”

She snorts. “Are we in junior high? What the fuck kind of logic is that?”

He drops on the couch opposite her. “I know, it’s just,” he pauses, and sighs, “I’m desperate.”

She allows herself a string of self-lambasting thoughts, centered mainly around how pathetic she is for that selfish lurch in her chest. To say yes would be to take advantage of her best friend’s desperation, allowing him to play pretend and act out some of her most suppressed fantasies, for some plot to get the girl that, in the end, probably won’t work. She swallows and tries to make him change his mind once again. “I really don’t think this would even work, Kaashi.”

“Yeah, but I’m driving myself crazy,” he insists as her thumbs start to button-smash frantically, “and you’re the only person I trust enough to do this with. I know it’s stupid I just have to try something.”

She’s reached the end of her protests. The screen in front of her flashes red, and the word DEATH splays across her vision; she sighs. Her head lops to the side, and she blinks at a wide-eyed, completely desperate Akaashi. “Fine.”

STEP TWO: START PLANTING FALSIFIED EVIDENCE

Akaashi’s hand is intertwined with her. She stares down at it and tries to memorize it. The way his fingers look pressed into her skin, how it feels. The warmth. The callouses. The way their forearms press together and settle in the space between their thighs. Her nail polish is chipped. His thumbs are wide. The slight rocking of the train slightly rocks them, and their bodies move in tandem without trying.

Akaashi leans back slightly and uses his free hand to take a photo.

“Here,” he says after a moment of contemplation, shoving his phone in her face. “How does that look?”

Maybe she looks for too long, but there’s something off about it. It looks so much more contrived, converted to pixels on the screen of his phone. Or maybe it’s just that it’s harder to pretend this isn’t a ploy for someone else’s attention when his affection is documented like that. When she looks at her hand in his in a photo it’s a reminder that this is simply evidence captured just to inspire jealously.

Her eyes drift between the screen and the hands between her. He hasn’t let go yet, which she’s trying not to read into. “Yeah, that’s good.”

“Good,” he says, his thumb tapping against her knuckle. She watches as he opens Instagram. “Should I tag you?”

She shakes her head. “No, let people wonder who it is, at first. Maybe she’ll ask.”

This brings a slight smile to Akaashi’s face, and it makes her feel oddly sick.

Ever since he asked her, she’s given into a few delusions, considering it a serious possibility that this could just be Akaashi’s convoluted, roundabout way of getting closer to her. An excuse to hold her and post pictures of her and maybe even kiss her, eventually. That maybe he wants her just as badly as she wants him.

But no amount of mental gymnastics or bending of logic can deny that unabashed giddiness at the mere suggestion that she might speak to him. It’s hard for her to deny, when he talks to her like it’s nothing, when he holds her hand like it’s nothing.

She swallows and bounces her knee. “What are you going to tell people? I mean, like, when they ask about how we got together.”

Akaashi shrugs. There’s something loading on his phone screen as he lowers it to look at her. “I dunno. Maybe that one night we just like, hooked up and then decided to date.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah, is that bad?”

“No,” she offers with a slight shake of her head. It feels bad. It feels the same way food poisoning or maybe the plague would. But she can’t logically explain that one, so she just says, “That should work, I guess.”

STEP THREE: LEAN INTO THE RUMORS GOING AROUND (THAT YOU STARTED)(ON PURPOSE)

INSTAGRAM akaashikeiji has tagged you in a post!

INSTAGRAM kuroo_tetsuro: bro that’s for sure you in akaashi’s post kuroo_tetsuro: since when are you guys going out???

IMESSAGE yukie: you and akaashi are dating?? since when??

IMESSAGE iwa: so were you planning on tell me that you started going out with someone?

INSTAGRAM heyheyheybokuto commented on akaashikeiji’s post: HOLY SHIT IS THAT WHO I THINK IT IS? alisahaibi commented on akaashikeiji’s post: aww so cute! love you two

IMESSAGE kaashi: holy shit did that just work

The constant buzzing of her phone provides a pretty consistent distraction from her essay on the socioeconomic conditions of the working class that led to the Bolshevik revolution. Her head is swirling with thoughts of Akaashi’s post and the failed provisional government.

Her face drops to her hands, and her phone continues to buzz on the desk beside her, just as her laptop screen goes dark, nudging her unfinished essay out of her thoughts.

She takes a moment to press the palms of her hands into her eye sockets, enjoying the pressure and the way shapes sprout up behind her closed eyelids. Akaashi’s sitting out in their living room, probably, phone in his hands staring at notification from Alisa.

He’s probably going through her account, looking through her posts, careful not to let his thumb slip and like something on accident. He’s probably smiling down at her smile, heart pounding in his chest as he thinks about her and whatever comment she left on his post.

Akaashi’s been in love with her this whole time. For as long as they’ve been friends, for as long as she’s known him; his love for her completely integrated into his personality. When prompted to list what he likes about her, he will ramble about her sweetness and beauty and her intelligence. He will list off things that Alisa has and she lacks: grace in social situations, a distinct and unique sense of style, her ability to read and understand the people around her so easily.

It seems like, everything there is to Alisa, Akaashi loves it. Whatever it is.

Her phone buzzes again. She reaches for it.

IMESSAGE iwa: you can tell me about things, yknow

Her tongue twists in her mouth, and her head bangs. It crosses her mind, briefly, that this is a bad idea, and the fallout is not worth the maybe few weeks where she can hold Akaashi’s hand and pretend that he feels an ounce of what she feels for him.

She clicks on the notification from him, the post he tagged her in, and is surprised to see her own face, grinning back at her, bare-faced and nose scrunched. There are freckles on her face she didn’t hadn’t ever noticed before. She didn’t know he had this photo. He captioned it: My pretty girl.

It’s worth, she decides instantly. It’s so immediately worth it.

She opens up her photos, and scrolls passed blurry photos of crowded whiteboards and half-eaten vegetarian lunches to find a photo of Akaashi. One of him just outside their apartment in the middle of last winter taken when he wasn’t paying attention. He’s smiling, eyes crinkled and glasses falling down his nose as he buttons up his jacket. It’s a favorite of hers, as indicated by the small white heart in the corner. Every time she sees it, she smiles.

Without stopping to think of how both wrong and vulnerable it feels, she posts it, matching it to his. My pretty boy. Undeniable evidence planted.

taglist: @charlotterosea13 @quikhs @mdmraz @mollyrolls @nazwrites-2002 @hanadulsetaad @nokjhg @alexithemiyatic @kvrokasaa @wyrcan @baylz @soobin1437

[natimiles]

Gift (Jude x reader)

Summary: When you go out on a date with Jude and he can’t get you to pick something you want, he has to do something himself.

Words: 999

Tags: female reader; established relationship; sort of soft Jude; fluffy; spicy, but not really. HAPPY FLUDE DAY!

Notes: Yesterday was @dragon-liquorice anniversary with Jude and I wrote this for her! Happy Flude Day! :D

You walk on the sidewalk with your arms linked, watching the shop windows as you make your way to the restaurant he said he wanted to take you to. The sun sets, painting the sky in beautiful colors, and the day’s heat fades, making it the perfect weather for a date. The fact that Jude is miraculously not swamped with work tonight makes everything even better.

It’s a peaceful evening, and everything feels perfect — even if he’s now grumbling while you try to suppress a laugh.

“I’m telling you, I’m happy just being here with you,” you say, squeezing his arm.

“And I’m telling ya that ya should have somethin’,” he huffs. He’s practically pouting at this point, and it’s adorable to see him like this, but you’d never tell him that. “Anything!”

Every time you stop to look at something, he watches you like a hawk, ready to buy you the whole store if that’s what you want. And every time, you turn him down, saying you don’t want or need anything.

“We’re already having a nice dinner together. It’s more than enough for me that I can spend time with you.”

“Just pick something, and I’ll get it for ya.”

“Jude, I know how busy you are. I know this date is already a lot... and it’s too much to think that you’d make space for me in your busy schedule,” you mumble the last part, but he hears it.

Jude stops walking and turns to face you. “Yer ‘bout to pick a fight with me, princess,” he says, squinting his eyes at you. “I work too much, but I’ll always make space for ya. I’ll spend every minute I can with ya, and ya can’t say no to that.” He holds you by the waist, pulling you closer, pressing your bodies together as much as possible. “Yer mine.”

He kisses you, his lips demanding as ever, his tongue exploring your mouth, making you drown in his taste and scent. One of his hands moves to the back of your head when he senses you’re about to pull away. He knows you’re probably embarrassed by the passionate kiss in the middle of the sidewalk, but he doesn’t really care. Not tonight. He only stops when he’s out of breath, pulling away just enough to look at you with a smirk.

“Get it now?” He reaches for a lock of hair, tucking it behind your ear. You nod, but he sees in your eyes that you’re still insecure, and he knows you’ll be for a while. The only thing he can do is reassure you every time you feel like this, in his own Jude way. “I can give ya another kiss, a way more passionate one if that’s what ya need.”

“No! I mean, not here… I mean…” You flush, and his smirk deepens as he watches you stumble over your words.

“Heh! Not here, huh?” He hums, bringing his face closer to your ear, sending a shiver up your spine. “Later then, in our room.” His sadistic side surfaces as he revels in your cute reactions, watching you squirm in his arms.

“Jude…” you pout, and he kisses it away.

“Let’s keep goin’, then.”

He offers you his arm, and you take it as you both start walking again. You soon arrive at the restaurant, where Jude’s presence is enough for the maître to rush over and attend to you. You’re guided to a secluded table, the dim lighting casting a romantic glow. The restaurant is amazing, and everything goes smoothly with miraculously no one trying to kill Jude while you’re eating.

When you leave, he asks you to stay inside and wait while he finds a carriage to take you both back to Crown. The ride back is as calm as the rest of the night, and you arrive at the castle in no time.

You head straight to your shared bedroom, and Jude starts kissing you the moment the door closes. He continues until your lungs are burning and the only thing you can think of is him — though, to be fair, you already think of him constantly.

He guides you to the bed, flopping down and pulling you onto his lap. He bites your bottom lip, then pulls back to look you in the eyes. You think he’ll kiss you again, but he stays there, watching you for a moment. Just as you’re about to ask if something is wrong, he makes his move.

“Since the princess wouldn’t say what she wanted,” he says, reaching inside his coat and pulling out a book wrapped in a delicate ribbon. “I had to pick somethin’ myself.”

Your eyes widen as you look at the book and take it from his hand. It’s a new book about astronomy that you’ve wanted for a while but had run out of print before you could buy it last time. You’ve seen it earlier while walking around town with him and thought about going back another day to purchase it before it was gone again.

“How…”

“I pay more attention to ya than ya think,” he smiles smugly. “I saw yer eyes light up earlier. Ya stared at it with yer mouth wide open, almost droolin’.”

“That last part was unnecessary!”

“Not if it’s the truth,” he chuckles, watching you open the book and scan its contents with a radiant smile.

“When did you buy this anyway?”

“I wonder,” he evades the question. “Now,” he reaches for the book, snatching it from your hands and setting it aside. He wraps his arms around your waist and rests his chin on your chest. “Can I get yer attention back on me?”

It’s the most adorable sight you’ve ever seen of him, and you nod enthusiastically. Jude slides his hand to the nape of your neck and falls backward, pulling you with him. His lips are on yours the next second, and you know he won’t let you go anytime soon.

Taglist: @dragon-liquorice @valkyyriia @olivermorningstar

• @queengiuliettafirstlady @koco-coko @just-a-dodo

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