#hours the next day and then go to the art gallery

[covenofagatha]

The games we play

Rio Vidal x reader

When you get home after a long day of work, all you want is to spend some quality time with your girlfriend, but she's a little distracted playing video games

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: g!p Rio, bratty!reader, daddy kink, blowjob, sex

When you step into the elevator of your apartment building and press the button for the eighteenth floor, you can already feel half the tension from the day seeping out of your stiff limbs. 

Twelve hours of reading over contracts for your boss at one of the biggest law firms in the city has absolutely exhausted you—and you have an unfortunate ache in your back from sitting down for so long—and you just can’t wait to be home with your girlfriend. Despite the long day, you feel a flicker of heat in your stomach at the thought of her giving you some stress relief. 

The doors ding and open on your floor and you drag your feet against the carpet all the way to your apartment. You know the moment you get in, you’re just going to melt into Rio’s arms. 

Your girlfriend comes from money, her parents own an art gallery in New York, and spends her days painting and playing video games. She’s told you over and over again that you don’t have to work, that she’s more than happy to support you financially, but you do really like being a lawyer. 

Plus there’s no denying how worked up Rio gets when she comes to watch you in the courtroom. She says she goes crazy for your power, fully knowing that you’ll submit to her the second you get home. 

There’s nothing she loves more than putting you on your knees for her and then her jerking off onto your blazer. When she pulls out her credit card at the drycleaners to get her cum out of your suits, you swear you see her cock twitch. 

“I’m home,” you call out when you open the door and kick off your shoes. The kitchen light is on and there’s a box of Chinese food sitting on the counter with your name written on it. Your heart warms at Rio having dinner ready for you and you scarf down a few bites before going to find her. 

It doesn’t take long, because when you walk into the living room, she’s sprawled out on the couch, headset on, and focusing intensely on the television screen, where she’s playing one of her favorite video games. Her fingers rapidly press buttons on the controller and she moves her entire body the same way as her avatar on the screen and you snort fondly. You’ve never really understood the hype of video games so to watch your girlfriend be so absorbed in one is very amusing. 

She doesn’t even realize you’re home until you plop down on the sofa next to her, and even then she only spares you a glance and gives you a quick peck on the cheek before turning back to her game. 

“No, no, come on!” she exclaims, throwing a hand up and you have to duck out of the way. Her character falls to the ground with bullet holes in their chest. You sigh and take in her loose hair and green t-shirt and gray sweatpants and wonder just how long she’s been sitting here for. There’s an empty bottle of beer on the coffee table that her feet are resting on so at least she’s been drinking something. 

“Babe,” you say, gently shaking her arm. She looks at you out of the corner of her eye and you can hear people talking into her headset. 

“I’m almost done, doll,” she whispers and you slouch down. Being this close to her and breathing in her earthy perfume has your body growing warm and you eye her bulge through her pants. She shifts like she can feel you staring and your mouth starts to water. 

If she’s not going to pay attention to you and give you what you want, you’ll just have to take it. You slink off the couch and onto your knees and she looks down before raising an eyebrow. 

Rio covers the mouthpiece when you move her legs off the table and crawl between them so she can warn, “Be a good girl for daddy and let her focus,” without any of her friends that she’s playing with hear it.  

But you ignore her and grab onto her hips so you can pull her more down the couch, giving you better access to her covered cock. Rio swallows roughly and tries to focus, but when you rub your cheek against her length, she swears and you feel her cock twitch to life. 

“Work was really tough today, daddy,” you pout and begin to press open-mouthed kisses to her dick through the fabric. You look up at her with the doe-eyes that always make her weak and she makes a pointed effort not to give in. “I had to read so many contracts when all I could think of was you.” 

She’s starting to become hard and you circle your mouth around the tip before sucking and her hips jerk. When you pull back, the gray fabric is significantly darker on her pants from your saliva. 

“I just couldn’t wait to come home and be fucked be you,” you say wistfully. One of her hands drops down to rest on your head while you continue nipping at her cock through her sweats. You wonder if her friends can hear the muffled noises she’s making. 

There’s gunshots on the TV and she curses again before moving her hand on your head back to the controller. “You’re being distracting, doll,” Rio grits out and you smirk before toying with her waistband. She doesn’t put up a fight when you pull her pants down ever so slightly and reach into her boxers. She hisses when your skin touches hers and you take out her cock. You spit a dollop of your saliva onto her tip and she hisses. 

You run your tongue up along the underside and her body jerks. Rio isn’t fully hard yet, but it doesn’t take much to get her there—a few more licks and some mouthing at her tip, and her cock stands tall, already pinkening, with beads of precum gathering at the slit. You breathe in the musky scent and then exhale and your hot breath makes her shiver. 

Eyes flicking up to hers, you see that she’s still intently focused on her game so you slowly take the tip of her cock in your mouth and begin to bob your head up and down, never going too far down. Rio’s teeth sink into her bottom lip in an attempt to stifle the loud groan and you hear someone on the headset ask if she’s okay. You chuckle and the vibrations around her make her squirm desperately. 

The flush in her cheeks matches the color of her cock and you relax your throat before moving down further. Her head drops back onto the couch and another player swears and says her name. 

You come up for air, strands of spit connecting your lips to her cock that flops against her stomach. “Keep playing your game, daddy. I want you to win,” you rasp and her tongue presses against the inside of her cheek while she shakes her head. 

“Either way, you’re about to lose the ability to cum for a week,” she grumbles and you snicker before taking her cock back into your mouth. Her threats are usually always empty promises—all it takes is you begging and she can’t resist. Plus, she knows that it ends up being worse for her because you become a brat when she doesn’t touch you for any span longer than a day. And she can never abstain from teaching you a lesson. 

Swallowing around her cock, you get a thrill when she throbs in your mouth and lets out a muffled groan. You rub your tongue along the protruding veins and she thrusts up uncontrollably, shoving her cock down your throat and making you gag. 

“Fuck,” Rio spits out, and it’s hard to tell if it’s because of you or the game. The clicking of the controller buttons seems to be becoming more sporadic and you start to drive your mouth up and down her cock and she grunts lowly. You’re sure her friends have to be able to hear that—can they hear the choking sounds you’re making?

Your underwear gets wetter at the thought of them listening to you going down on her and your fingers twitch against her thighs, barely able to stop yourself from sliding a hand in your pants and touching yourself. 

Rio’s cock throbs again and you decide to suck on the tip while you stroke the base of her cock up to where your mouth is. The double stimulation makes her keen and she moves the microphone piece away from her so the sounds are muted. 

“God, you’re such a slut, aren’t you?” she taunts, more collected than you thought she would be. You suck harder and rub your tongue against her slit, more precum filling your mouth. She whimpers when you look up at her with wide eyes and her hazel ones are clouded with lust. “Daddy’s little slut?”

You nod and moan and your head starts to spin like you’re drunk on her. Your cunt is aching—you think you might be able to cum just from this. 

But it won’t be as good as it would be if her cock was inside you, so you pull back, gasping for air, and standing up. She cranes her neck to look around you at the TV and you almost roll your eyes. 

However, when you sultrily peel off your blouse that’s slightly wet with your spit, Rio can’t help but look at you. She bites her lip when you cup your breasts through your bra and nods when you unclasp it. Her hips jump when she sees your uncovered tits and another spurt of precum slips down her length. There’s no denying that your girlfriend is a tit girl. Rio’s fingers instinctively move on the controller, but her attention is solely on you. 

As it should be. 

You slide your pants down your legs, both of you ignoring how you almost lose balance, and she groans when she sees that you’re wearing the green underwear she loves so much. You tweak your nipples, coaxing them to harden, and then trace down your stomach sensually before dipping into your panties. 

Rio’s mouth falls open, movements stilling on the controller, when you show her the wetness glistening on your fingers. Her cock twitches again and spits precum on her shirt. You lick the wetness lasciviously and Rio gives you a pleading look before you take your underwear off too. 

Slick gets on your inner thighs when you step back over to the couch and then you straddle her legs and stroke her cock with your soaked underwear, coating her length with you. She’s completely forgotten about the video game and you can hear her friends furiously saying her name. 

And then you position your entrance right above her cock and take just the tip inside of you. Rio gasps, a slight sheen of sweat breaking out on her forehead, and you wrap your arms around her shoulders. 

“Finish the game, daddy,” you whisper before nipping at her earlobe, “then you can fuck me.”

She nods, all the color in her face pooling in her cheeks, and she holds the controller against your back. You slowly slide down her cock until she’s entirely sheathed inside you and you’re content to just sit there on her until she’s done playing. Her lean arms are holding you, her cock is steadily pulsing inside you, and her chin is resting on your shoulder—exactly what you need.

You keep waiting for her to be done, but it’s taking a lot longer than you thought it would and you’re getting impatient. Your cunt is clenching around Rio and you can feel your wetness leaking out onto her pants beneath you, but she is unfazed as she gets more immersed into the game. 

“Daddy,” you whine in her ear and she falters ever so slightly, “can you finish soon? I really need you to fuck me.” 

Her brows furrow and her jaw clenches but she doesn’t move. So you lift yourself off her cock, the emptiness gaping inside you, and then sit back down roughly, tearing a gasp from both of your throats. You roll your hips from side to side, heat building in you when her cock pulses and then you rut forward to get some pressure on your clit. Your moans are throwing her off and she keeps swallowing roughly. 

“I’m almost done, doll,” she says hoarsely, eyes flicking to meet yours with a pleading look in them, but you start to ride her anyway. Her cock fills you deliciously and your walls grip her each time you bounce back down and she hits your g-spot. Each time, you gasp breathily and her face twitches like it’s taking all of her energy not to give in. 

You swirl your hips, spelling out your name, and she sputters out a moan. Your head drops forward, face pressed into your neck, and you scrape your teeth against her jugular, panting against her pale skin. 

“Daddy, please,” you whimper and that’s what breaks her.  

With a growl, she throws the controller onto the chair next to the couch and rips off her headset, grips your hips tightly, and flips you over and to the side so that you’re laying down with her on top of you. She doesn’t miss a beat and begins thrusting inside you roughly, a loud moan tearing itself out of you. Tingles spread from your cunt to your lower back and up your spine and you arch up to get her in deeper. 

Rio clasps your throat with a hand while her other fingers dig into your waist and the pressure makes your head spin. It feels like you’re floating and the only thing you can do is babble incoherently. 

Your hands tug at the hem of her shirt and hike it up her back so you can feel her skin against yours. She’s hot to the touch and you’re sure you feel the same. 

Wet squelching sounds fill the room as she drives her cock over and over into you, never losing rhythm, and you’d be embarrassed if you weren’t being fucked out of your mind. 

Gunshots ring out on the TV and you hear her friends loudly cursing through the headset now on the floor and you clench at the realization that she didn’t even bother to finish the game. 

“Fuck,” Rio grunts, biting on your clavicle roughly. You gasp and buck your hips up and now her pace does stutter. She reaches down to circle your clit and you’re panting—you’re so close, the tension is building and it’s about to snap. Your entire body feels like it’s on fire and it only burns brighter when she moves down your chest to suck at your nipple. 

It goes right to your cunt as if there’s a livewire connecting them and you sob. “Daddy, I’m gonna—”

“Cum for me,” she orders roughly, nipping at your breast and giving you three hard thrusts before you fall off the precipice and explode with a loud, guttural moan. She keeps fucking you through it and it sends you straight into another orgasm while she lavishes your tits. 

It’s too much, the pleasure starts to fray your veins, and you push at her shoulders. 

She chuckles darkly but pulls out and moves up your body so now she’s straddling you, cock in hand. You feel your clit pulse despite the overstimulation as she begins to stroke herself frantically. 

You know what she needs, what she wants, and you push your boobs together and roll your nipples while still breathing heavily. 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” Rio grunts and pitches forward, thick strands of cum shooting out and landing on your tits. You gasp at the warmth and she keeps fucking her hand, hips moving with the same steady, fast rhythm as she had when she was inside you, and she pumps out two more spurts of cum that dribble onto the pool on your chest. 

She doesn’t move from on top of you until her cock goes limp in her hand. You swipe your fingers through her mess and clean them off and Rio groans weakly as she gets off you and gently falls to the floor. 

“Did that make up for the tough day you had?” she asks, reaching up to tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear. You laugh breathlessly, a little surprised that she even heard you say that. 

“It really did.” You lean off the couch and pucker your lips and she kisses you softly. “Although, I can’t believe you didn’t immediately start fucking me the moment I came in.” 

She scoffs affectionately. “I was playing my game!” 

Your eyes narrow. “Aren’t I much more fun to play with?” 

Rio rolls her eyes and snorts. “Of course you are, doll.” 

“So, next time—” She kisses you again to shut you up. 

You let her. 

@lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly @sweetmidnights @n3bula-cats @m1vfs @agathascoven1

[butchtaurus]

tryna plan out my two days in vancouver. cause depending on the weather there’s only so much i can do. and i have dinner plans for two days. and my mom wants to go over to park royal after her seminar thing. i’m def going to the art gallery on one of the days tho

[patrice-bergerons]

I went to Tate Britain today and teared up in the Turner rooms because it had been ~3 months since I'd been there last and all the paintings were so much more beautiful and moving than I remembered. And i literally got into not only JMW Turner's body of work, but into going to art museums in general because of James Bond lmao 🙈

[lucky-draws]

9.6.23

[scholarhect]

jenny holzer inflammatory essays <3 i stood on the stairs and read every single one (there aren’t as many as it looks. each one is on here on about two columns, i think. still a long time to stand there) and i was in the way and people had to walk around me but i was like psssh this is an art gallery if they’re gonna display art here then i’m gonna look at it here. and then afterward i went up and stood by the barrier above the stairs and actually i could read the text reasonably well. so. maybe i did not in fact have to stand in everybody’s way. but whatever

[obsessive-valentine]

Yandere Artist x GN!Maid-Reader

Julian (or Jules as you nickname him), an esteemed artist in Victorian society, becomes captivated by a forgotten maid who moves through life unnoticed by others. Obsessed with finding ways to capture the adoration he has for you on canvas.

You’d been a maid at the gallery Julian visited, and the reason he returned over and over. He, a man of great status, an esteemed artist too, became drawn to you beyond his own understanding.

On one of Julian’s many visits, he found the courage to speak to you. "You work so hard, yet make it look as graceful as a dance", he murmured, his voice soft but sincere. You were startled—maids weren't meant to be noticed by men of his status. But Julian wasn’t like the others.

It was only after weeks of shared glances, whispered conversation and quiet sketches that Julian dared to ask you for more.

Losing sleep over the way you made him feel, emotions so deep and unexplainable he began going mad over trying to express it. His current models and pieces of art just weren't good enough compared to you and the way you make him feel.

A type of suffocating love he never thought could exist.

“Forgive me for being so forward,” he said, his voice gentle and earnest. “I understand this may come as a shock, but if you’d allow me, I would be honoured if you would be my muse."

Though you were hesitant to overstep and cause a scandal, he promised you everything you could want if you were to only be his muse, he’d give you a place to stay and all you could ask for, you wouldn’t have to be a maid anymore. But then being his muse, turned into friendship, then lovers.

He fell in love with how you so effortlessly inspired his work -but fell harder for how you grounded him as a person. Smitten by the little things- your soft laughter, the gentle way you spoke. He loved the small gestures you made without thinking, the way you’d hum as you worked. He'd notice it all.

While initially hesitant from the intensity of not being spared a glance to having a man tripping over himself at the sight of you -you grew to enjoy his presence. The idea of being someone who inspires him, someone who is at the centre of his world. After living your whole life in the shadows.

...

Many hours a week are sat in his study as he paints you, his work taking on a new life, new meaning that only makes it so much more beautiful.

Julian loves to draw you absentmindedly—it’s almost like an instinct, something that he can't stop even when he's lost in thought. He has many books filled with fast sketches that are almost abstract that he scribbles without even looking at the page, to incredibly detailed sketches that almost look like photos.

Parts of your day are recorded in those books like his own form of videoing you. Some are so attentive they could be made into a seamless stop motion.

Sometimes he even finds himself sitting on the bathroom floor as you bathe, talking to you as he once again absent-mindedly draws. finding inspiration for his next piece.

He’s obsessed with the little details. He gets lost in those details, and every sketch is a desperate attempt to capture your essence. But not necessarily just when he’s drawing either.

When he’s not drawing, Julian traces his fingers over your skin studying every part of you.

His love language is physical touch, though it’s always gentle and respectful. Gently running his fingers through your hair or resting a hand possessively on your waist.

But that doesn't mean he lacks in the other 4 departments. Like how he loves to whisper to you just how much you mean to him.

His feelings for you are intense, to the point of worship, though he doesn’t fully realise how deep his obsession runs, he doesn't do anything to correct it either.

Sometimes that can be overwhelming for you, especially going from such an ignored life to one in a lovely house, a handsome gentleman of a husband and the title of being a muse.

But you can't bring yourself to make him stop, he’s Prince Charming in your eyes.

You don’t see the way he glares or scowls at men who dare talk to you when you accompany him to town or an event. Or how he makes borderline cruel verbal jabs to women who try to take his attention from you even for a moment.

[makeitmakesomesense]

Starry Night

Natasha Romanoff x Jealous!Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: Day 10: I've merged a very fun request from a lovely anon with the @taylorswiftmicrofic prompt for the 10th of January, which is 'religion'.

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Your linked hands swung absentmindedly in the space between you. 

Natasha’s head tilted as she observed the painting.

After a moment, you felt her attention inevitably turn back to you. You tried to focus on the brushstrokes, the colours, something. At least this one wasn’t about religion.

‘What do you think?’ She prompted.

‘I like the stars.’ You said carefully.

Natasha’s lip twitched. 

‘That’s good. Given it’s A Starry Night.’ She rasped dryly.

You nodded, pretending to keep staring at the painting. Natasha brought your hand to her lips and held it there for a moment. 

Your focus turned readily  to her. It was much more enjoyable anyway, watching her look at the paintings.

‘What do you think?’ 

Natasha glanced back at you. Her eyes crinkled with a more hesitant smile.

‘I love it.’ She admitted. 

You leaned forward and kissed her cheek, ignoring the bustling crowds of tourists around you.

You stayed together, lost in the tiny moment, until a short woman elbowed her way in front of you to take a photo of the painting. 

Natasha’s eyes were full of mirth as she pulled you back to the centre of the room. Her arms snaked around your waist as she stood behind you. 

‘What do you want to look at next?’ She asked softly, her head resting on your shoulder.

You chewed your lip and tried to decide. The paintings all looked the same to you. 

This trip was already perfect without the art. It had been Natasha’s idea. A tentative gift for your one year anniversary. A long weekend spent in Paris. 

It was strange to live, for even the briefest of moments, as if you weren’t part of the Avengers team. Your life had become something unrecognisable in the time that you’d been part of it.

Now, here in Paris, you’d never seen Natasha so relaxed, so completely herself. 

The very first evening, she’d disappeared out of the apartment almost as soon as you’d set your luggage down. She’d returned within minutes, holding all the components for a charcuterie board and a bottle of ridiculously expensive wine.

You’d wanted to unpack and get organised after the long flight but Natasha had insisted that you join her on the balcony. You’d sat together for hours, sharing food and drink and staring out at a nighttime view that didn’t seem real.

You’d understood the magic then. Slow kisses that heated the chilled night air. The sparkling lights of the city reflected back in Natasha’s eyes.

Nothing in any gallery could beat that. 

‘You choose.’ You told Natasha, leaning back in her arms as you surveyed the gallery room. ‘I always like your choices best anyway.’

Natasha hummed to herself, trying to decide. You let yourself focus only on her. The constant thrum of people wandering around the room created an almost overwhelming level of background noise. 

At last, Natasha nodded over to another painting, one with two women watching each other in bed. 

You smiled before you could help it, remembering that morning. 

‘Okay.’ You agreed. 

Suddenly, you felt Natasha stiffen behind you. Then, after a moment, you felt her purposefully relax. You were immediately on high alert. You scanned the room with a new intention, trying your best to identify any threat. 

Your attention caught immediately on a woman across the room. Her stare was entirely focused on your girlfriend. 

‘Is everything okay?’ You asked tensely, staring at the woman whose focus refused to flicker from Natasha’s face. 

Natasha moved easily from behind you to by your side. She looked distracted but her smile was reassuring.  

‘Yes.’ She promised. ‘I know her. Let me go say hello.’

You watched her walk away from you over to the strange woman. The beautiful Parisian woman. The upsettingly beautiful Parisian woman. 

You watched Natasha kiss her cheeks and hug her. You watched their obvious delight at reconnecting. You watched the disgustingly beautiful Parisian woman reach up to touch a piece of Natasha’s hair, you watched her mouth form a comment about its new length and colour. You watched Natasha smile shyly. 

You felt small and then you felt angry. You felt an instinct lock your body in place.

It took a minute for Natasha to look over to you. She took a few steps back in your direction, not quite closing the distance. 

‘There’s this wine.’ She started, clearly excited. ‘I’ve been looking for it all weekend. Elodie knows this place that sells it. It’s right around the corner’

You kept your expression neutral. You hated that Elodie was obviously looking over at you. 

‘Do you mind if we-?’ Natasha trailed off, gesturing between herself and the woman who you were going to make a voodoo doll of later. 

You nodded, throat tight. 

Natasha kissed your cheek.

‘Stay, enjoy the art. I’ll be back before you notice I’m gone.’ She promised, an excited glint in her eye. 

You watched Natasha’s hand brush Elodie’s back as they walked out together. 

When you were finally alone in a sea of strangers, you let the feelings wash over you in quick succession. 

Jealousy. Hurt. Anger. 

Your fingernails dug into your palm as the feelings simmered. 

Who the fuck was Elodie?

You walked blindly past the remaining masterpieces and headed for the exit.

Natasha caught a hold of you in the foyer. She looked startled to see you there. 

She nodded back to the endless gallery rooms and gave you a curious smile. 

‘Have you seen it all already?’ She teased lightly.

‘Mmhm’ You hummed tightly. ‘Let’s go back to the apartment.’

Your sharp tone set off the first alarm bells. You watched the realisation dawn on Natasha’s face, the slight widening of her eyes. 

You didn’t give her a chance to speak. You walked out the building and headed towards your apartment. 

Natasha kept pace at your side. You could feel her nervous glances towards you. Her hesitating indecision to say something. 

Something about your stony expression kept her quiet.

By the time you’d reached the apartment, after climbing the endless winding staircase inside the building’s courtyard, the unspoken tension was almost at a boiling point. 

Natasha’s tote bag clinked occasionally as her new purchase bumped against her keys. Your jaw tightened every time you heard it.

You opened the door and walked straight to the kitchenette. Natasha followed cautiously behind you.

It occurred to you then that you’d never had a proper fight before. Never had a reason to be really angry. More than a year had gone by in relative peace. 

Until Elodie. 

You opened the fridge door violently and pulled out the ingredients for lunch automatically. 

You could feel Natasha hovering in your blind spot. 

You hooked a dining chair with your foot and pulled it out from the table.

‘Sit.’ You directed tightly. ‘I’ll make us some lunch.’

Natasha sat with the obedience of a hostage victim. 

You arranged the jars of beurre de cacahuètes and confiture next to the wooden chopping board and placed the bread that Natasha had bought fresh that morning on top of it. You yanked open the cutlery drawer and retrieved the large bread knife.

You felt Natasha wince behind you. You ignored her as you started sawing at the bread.

‘So.’ You said loudly. ‘How do you know Elodie?’

Natasha’s hesitation this time was blatant.

‘Uh.’ You heard her stall for time. You sawed quickly through your first slice and tossed it onto the waiting plate. ‘From a long time ago.’

‘Mmhm.’ You hummed again, eyes trained on the moving knife. ‘And you knew each other well.’

You didn’t frame it as a question but Natasha answered anyway.

‘...Yes.’

‘Very well.’ You said under your breath, tossing another brutalised slice of bread onto the plate. 

‘...Yes.’ Natasha said with obvious alarm as you began to hack at the loaf again. 

‘Lucky Elodie.’ You muttered bitterly. ‘I bet you’ve got wonderful memories of Paris together. Did you drink that wine on a balcony with her? What sort of name is Elodie anyway? I mean that’s practically too French. I mean come on. It’s like a Russian girl being called-’

‘Natasha.’ Natasha supplied.

You kept moving your knife thoughtlessly. 

‘Exactly. Whatever.’ You cut yourself off into abrupt silence as you stewed internally on things you really shouldn’t say aloud.

‘Y/N.’ Natasha called out carefully.

‘What?’ You snapped.

‘Love. You’re sawing the chopping board in half.’ You froze and stared down at the small pile of sawdust mixing with the breadcrumbs. You yanked the knife abruptly out of the wooden board and placed it down on top of it. You stared for a long moment at the counter. You couldn’t escape the truth of it. The fear that ached behind everything.

‘Did you take her to see those paintings before?’ You asked at last in a small voice. ‘Before me?’

‘Love.’ Natasha said quietly again in a low voice that always made your insides go warm. You heard her move closer and felt her arms wrap around you, tentatively. You let your back press against her.

‘Before you.’ She murmured slowly, and you felt each word vibrate through you. ‘I know it’s not that simple. But before you nothing really mattered.’

Her lips touched your neck and you let your eyes close. You thought about her and you. About the 400 nights you’d spent together. About the sleepy mornings and the date nights and the future plans. 

You thought about the painting you’d seen of the two women watching each other in bed.

‘Before you.’ Natasha whispered again. ‘There was art and good food and fancy wine.’ Natasha’s hand trailed lightly down your front and the back up. Your head tilted back and Natasha dragged her finger along your exposed neck. 

You thought about the starry night reflected back to you in Natasha’s eyes. 

Your body shuddered as Natasha’s fingernails tapped gently over your trachea.

All you could hear were her soft breaths and your shallow ones.  ‘Before you. I wasn’t me.’

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Requests are still very welcome for future January fics. More info in the pinned post if you're interested in requesting. <3

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[arkangelo-7]

Okay, but, BatAdvil.

At this point in his career, Bruce has developed more synthetic drugs than a Pfizer employee without health insurance—it just comes with the territory. Given his close proximity to the Rouge Gallery and Gotham’s semi-poisonous smog, he’s had to teach himself the art of medicinal drugs. There’s an entire fridge dedicated to his creations, but his magnum opus will always be BatAdvil.

Bruce designed it following a particularly godawful run-in with Killer Croc back in 2005, but it was Dick Grayson who actually coined the term. Alfred was suspicious but ever since BatAdvil’s creation, Bruce has kept a tiny bottle of it on him at all times; any time the Joker or Poison Ivy gets a particularly nasty hit in, he’ll pop a pill and suddenly he’s 25 years old again and pain’s only a distant memory.

Eventually, though, the Robins get their hands on it.

Dick routinely steals Bruce’s horde. It’s because he’s so generous with it; anytime he’s in a team up and his partner gets whacked around by one of Blüdhaven’s worst, Dick, guilty, offers up the pills to both superpowered and pedestrian hero’s alike. It’d made him extremely popular with the Justice League—there’s regular fights over who gets to assist Nightwing in hopes of getting their hands on some free BatAdvil.

Jason, once he’s adopted and learns the Secert, immediately sees the potential of dealing BatAdvil. He starts with the Titans, because their proximity to Dick means they’re already hooked, and goes on to dominate the Justice League as the leading BatAdvil dealer. He makes a killing off that stuff and keeps his cash stash locked away in a random chimney in Wayne Manor.

Tim knows about it. Tim knows everything, actually, but he’s acutely aware of Bruce’s miracle pills and Jason’s dealings with the JL. Once Jason’s dead, Tim not only takes over the Robin mantle, but also Jason’s superhero drug ring. He runs it so efficiently that when Jason comes back, he half considers hiring Tim for his criminal enterprises before he decides that trying to kill him would he more rewarding.

Side note: Tim 100% uses the chemical composition of BatAdvil to make a pain-relieving energy drink. It works great, but the problem is that it’s shit on his liver, so he has to go back to regular coffee after a few weeks to avoid losing another internal organ.

Damian and Steph are similar in that they both at first think BatAdvil is stupid. They stick to regular Advil or just go to hard drugs for when they’re seriously injured. But then they both have a scenario where they have some sort of project or test the next morning and have to study, but also just broke like three ribs fighting the Riddler two hours before. They take BatAdvil once and never go back.

Bruce, to this day, uses the stuff religiously. Like, on a daily basis. (He’s got eight kids, he’s forty-five, and he’s beating up criminals on the regular. It’s tough on his knees.) But like regular Advil, the more BatAdvil one takes, the more their immunity grows and the larger their dose has to be. Bruce accidentally gives Clark one of his every-day pills BatAdvils after he gets whacked during an alien invasion and Clark immediately passes out. The League freaks out and Batman awkwardly disappears and pretends like it wasn’t his fault. Dick cries tears of laughter when he hears.

[peachbibi]

the one in which you got sick and Spencer took care of you

genre: pure unadultareted fluff

warnings: nope

a/n: i was very sick for a couple of days and that was one of my fever dreams

Was it the crop top you wore in the middle of January when you went to an art gallery with Spencer? Was it the rain that caught you by surprise and left you all soaked and shivering? Or was it the window you left open after the shower before going to bed? 

Frankly enough, you will never know. You do know that you’ve been feverish all night coughing your lungs out. Unfortunately, Spencer has been gone on the case for the last four days and you have no idea when he is coming back.

You rummage through the cupboards helplessly looking for medicine. A fruitless attempt since Spencer has a system you are not aware of. He always took care of you and it never crossed your mind to figure out where was the help coming from. It is your second year of living together and you are taking your time to figure it all out.

You give up. You are sweaty and dizzy and can’t stand on your feet for too long. As you crawl back into your bed, every muscle in your weak body starts shivering. You pull the thick duvet over your head and force yourself to fall asleep. Sleeping helps right? You are not a doctor and your limbs and eyes are too tired to google home remedies – sleep must do for now. The pillow smells like Spencer and you imagine him being in the bed with you.

A sound coming from the living room wakes you up. You slowly flutter your eyes open and do your best to sit up. The room is dark and only the street lights help your vision. Your head is heavy and it takes you a minute to realise that Spencer is here.

Spencer is here. He is standing in the doorway and you are sick and sweaty and wearing nothing but his old Caltech t-shirt and your underwear. His big brown eyes are searching your face before he drops his duffel bag to the floor and crouches next to your bed.

“Hey, are you okay?”

His big hand is like a compress on your burning forehead. You moan something in response. You hate how gorgeous he looks after a long way home.

“You should have called me. Or-or texted me. Anything! God, you are burning.” His big hand gently pushes you to lie back down.

“You should stay in bed. I take it you didn’t take any medicine”

You mumble something incoherent back. Spencers huffs and quickly disappears from your line of vision. You miss him. Tears burn your eyes because you already miss him so much. You close your eyes for a second and when you open them again he is back. There is something cool and soft pressed to your forehead. Spencer is holding a bowl of something that smells like chicken soup.

“Dearest, you need to eat something before taking any pills.”

He helps you to sit up straight and moves your hair out of your face. You sip on the chicken soup that taste like heaven.

“I made you some ginger tea with lemon and honey. And don’t scrunch your nose at me like that. I know you hate ginger but it will help to reduce inflammation and ease swelling in the respiratory tract.”

You set the empty soup bowl aside and started sipping on the tea Spencer made for you. His eyes are taking in your fragile state. You want to hug him and kiss him and take him to bed with you as if he is your teddy bear but – whether it is your weak body or you successfully fought the urge to do so – you don’t. You can’t risk getting your boy-genius sick as well.

“Take these pills and get some rest”

He offeres you two yellow tablets and you wash them down with a glass of warm water. Spencer tucks you in and kisses your forehead.

“Dont..” your voice thin and croaky.

“You will get sick” you cough as you try to explain yourself.

Spencer smiles softly and kisses you again.

“I have been in this room for more than three hours and I definitely inhaled millions of your germs. Kissing your forehead will hardly change anything now”

You cough again as you apologise.

“Please don’t. I just want you to get better. Get some rest”

With that Spencer leaves the room. Through the night you have woken up by your boyfriend who was trying to measure your temperature and make you take some medicine. Fortunately, his efforts paid off because you wake up feeling much better. Obviously, you are still sick and coughing but you can move your body without feeling like a puppet on strings.

“I’m glad you are better” Spencer smiles when you find him sitting on the edge of your bed. His hair is ruffled and he looks so homey and warm in his cotton pyjamas and glasses on.

“You should have some breakfast. I can make porridge”

He stands up but you pull him by the hand. Spencer almost falls on top of you which makes him giggle a little bit.

“I want to shower first”

He lookes at you for a second before he gives a nod with a sheepish smile

“Great, I will help you shower. A hot shower can generally provide comfort by relaxing your muscles and the steam can help soothe irritated airways and moisturize your throat and nasal passages-”

“Spencer, I am sweaty and I smell. I am so disgusting right now. I don’t think it’s a good idea”

You interrupt him all embarrassed.

“Sweetheart, you are not disgusting. There is no universe in which I find you disgusting. Plus, I don’t want to risk you passing out or slipping in the shower while you are still very sick”

He pulls you up from the bed. The sun paints his locks golden when he places his hands on your waist. Spencer smiles at you widely and nuzzles into your neck. You squeak as you try to recoil.

“You are disgusting” you joked

“Maybe I am. So, what? Shower or breakfast?”

“I will let you shower with me if you make pancakes instead”

You give him your puppy eyes and Spencer laughs

“Deal”

He kisses the tip of your nose and leads you to the bathroom by your waist.

[alyssawritcs]

JUST  LUNCH  (  a  kelvin  harrison  jr.  fanfic  ) one  -  shot  .

love   interest   :   kelvin  harrison  jr. rating   :   m  as  shit  .  (  smut  ,  unprotected  sex  (  wrap  it  up  ) ,  plain  ol'  p  in  v  sex  ) wc   :   4.3k author's   note   :  i  have  no  idea  where  this  came  from  y'all,  just  wanted  to  show  love  to  my  little  leo  short  king  🤷🏽‍♀️

As much as Nevaeh sometimes missed her hometown, the beautiful and incomparable New Orleans, she had long since felt right at home in New York City. The move there had been almost on a whim, a decision made after her LSU graduation once the “far fetched” application she’d sent in to her dream gallery in Brooklyn was returned to her inbox with a link for a Zoom interview. Six weeks later, she was settled into a teeny tiny apartment in Bedstuy and working long hours at the gallery she’d grown to call her second home. However, it was while she was out with her newfound friends that she had spotted a familiar face in the crowd. 

Kelvin and her had been good friends in high school, nerdy kids and often the only black ones in the room. They had a love for the arts, though, and often paired off to work on projects. But the shy girl that he’d met in freshman year biology was not the one he’d run into that night at the bar. Now, little Nana had been ... blessed in high school and of course he’d noticed back then, he wasn’t blind but she was always hiding whatever she had going on under uniform, with big ol’ crewnecks or just the polos when the sweltering heat didn’t make sense for the former.

As he’d seen her there that day, head thrown back in laughter, that same pretty smile she’d always had, sitting on that - yeah, he’d have been a fool to not have approached her then and there.

The little reunion had gone better than even he had expected, with the two of them separating from their respective groups to catch up in some corner booth, where they had talked for hours. He told her about the roles he’d gotten and she talked about the exhibits she was helping to curate. Before they had known it, it was closing time and Kelvin, ever the southern gentleman, had offered to walk her home. She had thanked him on her doorstep with a soft kiss to his cheek. 

That had been 2017 and they went to date just until January of 2022. In that time, he’d gotten the roles of his lifetime. She’d been promoted to full time co-head curator at the gallery. Their schedules, which used to align perfectly, weren’t even in the same timezone most days. He needed to move to LA for his career’s sake and she surely wasn’t leaving New York because of hers. Though they had started the process of separating at each other’s throats, knowing exactly what buttons to push that only came with being together for half a decade, they’d both seemed to realize that it couldn’t end like that. So he got a little place in Venice Beach, she took over the lease on their shared loft in Brooklyn, and they amicably went their separate ways. 

Well, after one more incredible night that plagued Nevaeh’s every thought at that moment while she walked to Bredren, their old favorite Jamaican and soul food fusion spot not that far from the gallery. She tried to focus on the cute memories of them there, having little dates after he picked her up from work and he’d trek from his set in Harlem. That was cute, that was fun, that was appropriate. Thinking of the last time they’d slept together, when he’d made her cum four times in a row and then twice more the next morning before he left ... yeah, that was not very “let’s stay friends” of her, now was it?

Honestly, it had taken her months before she could even look at another picture of Kel, let alone even entertain the thought of being any type of friend to him. But of course, Chevalier had released in 2023 and she figured she needed to face the music, no pun intended. It was when she got through the whole film that she thought, ‘let me text this boy and tell him that shit was phenomenal’.

That had started a chain of sweet, light, and cutesy little exchanges between the both of them through texts and DMs. Swapping funny videos or tweets, him talking to her about filming for Mufasa or Genius, her talking about a new artist she was sourcing from all throughout the country. It felt like they were really friends, for real! That is until, the thirst edits had started popping up on her For You page and she found herself watching a couple of them a few too many times. She never liked or saved any of them, of course, but that didn’t stop her from occasionally typing his name into the little search bar. 

Now, as she rounded the corner and saw the back of his head sitting outside of the restaurant, she wanted nothing more than to run up on him and whoop his ass. How dare he bring these feelings back to her?! Matter of fact -

“Ow! What the he - girl, what is wrong with you?” He exclaimed as he turned, drawing the attention of the other patrons, rubbing the back of his head where she’d hit him lightly. God, he was such a drama king. “You ain’t got no couth?”

“Boy, shut up. Spell couth.” Nevaeh dropped her bright pink purse onto the table in front of him and walked over to the entrance, as the outside seating area was blocked off by a little fence. 

“C-o-u-t-h, you can’t spell it either.” He rapped once she slid into the seat opposite him, clicking his tongue at her while she rolled her eyes. “Nice purse.”

“Thanks, my annoying ass ex bought it for me.” 

His jaw fake-dropped and he placed a hand over his chest. “Annoying ass ex? You sure you didn’t mean handsome, talented, hilariously charming ex?”

“What I say?” She quirked an eyebrow at him and it was now his turn to roll his eyes, her favorite response sounding nice and familiar in his ears. She used to say that shit to him all the time, especially when he wanted to do something he found fun and that she kept saying no to. At the time, it’d been irksome but now, it felt like home. God, he was so fuckin’ corny.

She looked around on the table in front of them and then for the waiter. “Where are the menus?”

“Oh, I ordered already.”

“Little presumptuous, no?”

“No. I know what you’re gonna get.” Kelvin watched as she tilted her head and stuck her tongue to the roof of her mouth, a sign that she was trying to not cuss him out. He hid his smirk behind his glass of water as he took a sip from it.

“What if I changed my order?” She crossed her arms under chest. It was at this moment that he took in her outfit, a black summer dress that came down to her calves and pushed her boobs all the way up. Her wrists held her usual assortment of bracelets, clinking together as she moved. And she’d been wearing heels to match the purse, the pink sandals she knew he loved. Had she gotten dressed for him?

“You didn’t. Jerk chicken and waffles, pepper shrimp & grits on the side, a little plate of mac & cheese, and two beef patties to take home.” He sat back and crossed his arms to match her, even tilting his head too. Ooh, he pissed her off and even more now that he was right. “Plus a ginger beer and some sorrel, also for home. You look nice by the way.”

She didn’t respond at first, still eyeing him up and down. She never remembered to order the sorrel to take home, so he used to do it for her. In the two years since their breakup, every time she ordered from the restaurant, she still forgot. Fuck this nigga.

“Thanks, I was giving a tour to an investor.”

“Investor to help purchase the spot next door?”

“Fingers crossed.” To his credit, Kelvin had always been interested in her work. It was a museum that specifically highlighted pieces by all members of the African diaspora and every year, a new region became the focus. This year was Central African focused, with artists featured from Angola, Congo, Chad and many others. It was only halfway through the year at this point but they were already prepping for next year, when the focus would be on black artists from the Southern United States, of which she was extremely excited to 100% biasedly center folks from NOLA.

“I gotta pop in, see what y’all working with.” He was saying, just as the waiter arrived with their drinks as well as their plates, filled to the brim. He was the brother of the owner and they’d known him for years at that point so it should’ve come as no surprise when, after the plates were set before them, he wiggled his wrinkled finger at them.

“I like to see you two back together. Better this way.” He offered them no chance to respond, walking away briskly as they stared dumbly after him. Once their eyes met again, they both let out a little laugh and shook their heads, digging into the food. 

It was quiet for a minute, and then, “You too.” She mumbled, around bites.

“Me too, what?” Kelvin asked, cutting into his oxtail and cornbread. 

“You look good too.” Nevaeh smiled, because she knew his face was getting a bit hot even if she couldn’t see the blush. For a Leo, he was always quite shy when it came to her giving him compliments. She liked it though. She liked having that effect on him because he more than had it on her. “How long you in the city for?”

“Couple of weeks. I got a little place in Soho that I’m leasing for a month, just to do some auditions and shit.” He shrugged like it was nothing but to her, it felt like everything. He was going to be that close for a whole month? In the past, when he came to New York, they’d meet up almost by accident but not really. They would attend events knowing (hoping?) that the other would too, never ask, and then act surprised to run into each other at the bar or something. They’d spend damn near the whole night catching each other’s eye from across the room, maybe even attend the after party together, and then have a lot of lingering stares while she waited for her Uber. Because he always waited for her Uber with her. He’d stand damn near in the middle of the street watching it drive away. She never had to look back to know that he was doing it either.

This lunch, as it carried on and they chatted away, was the longest conversation they’d had in nearly two years. She had gotten a cat in his absence, a little black one that she had named Salem and he laughed because he knew she grew up obsessed with Sabrina the Teenage Witch. He talked about meeting Beyoncé, teasing her a little because he knew she was jealous as hell (hello, she’d been in Club Renaissance at MSG!), and showed her pictures he’d semi-creepily taken on his phone, which made her laugh. Which made him laugh. Then they were talking about their parents, their friends, the great movies he still wanted to do, the artists she still wanted to have a piece in the gallery.

It was reaching nearly six pm when they finally looked at the clock on their phones. Three hours they had sat there, like nothing had changed. He excused himself to go to the bathroom and she stared off into the distance, watching a couple walk down the street in each other’s arms and blinking back tears of the memories of them doing the same thing, on the same sidewalk, seemingly forever ago.

“Thanks for paying.” She smirked up at him once he returned. His eyes widened.

“How -”

“That’s what you always used to do, go to the bathroom and pay on your way back to the table, so I wouldn’t even offer.” He looked down at her for a beat and then smiled. 

“Of course, both our mommas would beat my ass if I didn’t pay.” Kelvin put his phone into his pocket, grabbed the to-go back with her items in it, and had to shove his other hand into his other pocket to keep from offering it to her. “C’mon, I’ll walk you back.”

She got up from the table and his hand hovered over the small of her back as he led her through the dinner crowd and to the sidewalk. They walked close, feeling the heat from each other’s bodies, her gifted purse held in both hands in front of her to keep from reaching for his too. Their laughter followed them down the streets.

“I got a new painting for above the couch. It looks gorgeous when the sun hits it as it’s setting.” She didn’t have to explicitly invite him up as they approached the door to the familiar building. He just followed her in, entering the elevator and pressing the button, like second nature. 

The apartment had not changed much since he had moved out. He’d been so in love with the loft when they’d moved in together, the floor to ceiling windows, the little spare bedroom that had worked as an office for them both, especially during COVID. They would get their work done, cook dinner together and often, sit on the balcony and talk for hours, just as they had done today. Eventually, after they finished eating, Nevaeh would round the table and sit on his lap, so they could watch the sunset together.

Now, he stood in the living room, admiring the gorgeous painting. It was a group black men and women, seemingly in heaven with halos on their heads, walking on the clouds. She’d been right, the sun hit the piece in a way that made the halos shine almost. It damn near brought a tear to his eye. She was standing to his right and that same setting sun gave her her own halo effect. He was suddenly finding it hard to breathe.

She could feel his eyes on her but she was hesitant to turn and look back at him. He was too good at that, looking deep into her eyes and making her weak in the knees. But she almost couldn’t help it, twisting her next so their eyes met. Then he leaned in, his hand coming up to her chin, and their lips connected.

Nevaeh let out a small whimper as the kiss grew. His hands moved to cover the sides of her face and her own landed on his back, her nails lightly digging into his shirt. There was such a sense of familiarity, of knowing how to move their heads and hands and lips. One of his hands slipped down her face and down the front of her throat, fingers ghosting over her cleavage and coming to wrap around her waist. Kelvin felt her shiver at his touch and smiled into the kiss, pulling away for a minute.

“Did you bring me up here to seduce me? Hmm?” He bent at the knees a bit to trail kisses along her jaw and down her neck, taking his time to suck at the skin along the side. She rolled her eyes, at first at his question and then in pleasure. She worked to speak without moaning.

“I barely had to even say or do anything to get you up here, sweetheart. It seems like you wanted to be seduced.” She brought her arms up to wrap them around his neck and sighed contentedly at the work he was doing on her neck.

He chuckled before running both of his hands down to her ass, massaging it for a couple of seconds. Oh, he missed this shit bad. “You are absolutely correct, babe, as per usual. I needed this shit.” Kelvin slipped his hands underneath both cheeks, onto her thighs, and lifted Nevaeh up which elicited a squeal from her. He walked them over to the couch, sitting himself down so she was sitting on his lap and could feel the bulge in his pants. He kept one hand on her ass as he slid the other up her dress, feeling the smooth skin of her thigh and tracing the line of the thong sitting on her hips. 

When he brought his hand over to her pelvis, he kept his eyes on her face as he gently felt the wet fabric. Nevaeh’s eyes glazed over and she closed them, moaning while biting her lip. He kept two of his fingers over her covered clit and let her rock her hips against them, the friction sending shockwaves of pleasure up her spine.

“That feel good, baby?” Kelvin asked. She nodded and made a breathy ‘mhm’ sound, beginning to breathe heavily. He did too, matching her and letting his mouth fall open, taking in every minute way her face changed. After another minute, he pushed the fabric to the side and used his thumb rub over her clit while his thick digits slid down her soaked slit to its entrance. There, he slipped them in and her moan this time was music to his ears. She let her head fall back, a hand gripping his shoulder tightly as she grinded down more on his hand, her chest heaving. Kelvin took his eyes off her face to watch her breasts straining against the cups of her dress. His other hand was on her hip now, helping her to rock down on his fingers so he had to make do.

His teeth pulled on one cup and then the other, watching her spill out of the dress and he pulled one of her nipples in his mouth. Sucking, nibbling, on the peak while still using his hands to guide her toward her climax, which he could feel was around the corner at this point. He knew her, knew that her thighs trying to close up on him, her fingers digging into his shoulder, her head tilting slightly to the right - she was minutes, if not seconds, away from cumming on his fingers. He picked up the pace.

“Kelvin, Kel - oh my God, Kel, please!” Nevaeh rolled her hips down, feeling the oh so familiar tightening in her stomach. She hadn’t cum like this in a long time, not without the help of a little toy in her bedside table. She began chanting, “fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! Don’t stop, please don’t stop, Kelvin!”

“I ain’t stoppin’, don’t worry baby.” He moved his mouth over to her other nipple, using his thumb to alternate between rubbing her clit and pressing down on it. Then, he inserted a third finger into her and he knew he’d done it. She stopped bouncing and dug her nails in so hard he just knew he was gonna have marks in his skin. Her mouth dropped open as she rode out her orgasm, looking him in the eye as he continued to move his hand inside of her.

After she had finished twitching on top of him, he removed his hand from beneath her dress, the loss of contact making her whimper. He sucked his fingers into his mouth and she felt her clit jump. Kelvin carefully pulled her off of him and then stood up, pulling his shirt off while she unzipped her dress and threw on to the other side of the couch, along with her soaked panties.

“Unbuckle my pants, baby.” He commanded and Nevaeh immediately reached up to do as she was told. Once the belt was undone, she popped open the button and unzipped him, his hard member stretching at the fabric of his briefs underneath. “Pull them down, both of ‘em.” And she did, letting his dick jump out of his underwear and hang heavy in front of her face. She could literally feel her mouth watering, for the love of all that is good in this world, this shit was ridiculous. 

Taking back a bit of control, she gazed up at him, making direct eye contact as she wrapped her fingers around his thick base and guided him into her mouth. His mouth dropped open again, in pleasure, watching her take him all the way to the back of her throat and then back out again. She repeated this one, two, three times before she began to move faster on him, sucking him loudly like she knew he liked it. He was genuinely surprised his knees hadn’t buckled underneath him, her eyes still on his face as he moaned and groaned, watching his dick become covered in her spit. His hand had come to rest on her head and, eventually, when he felt his balls begin to tighten, he pulled on her ponytail to get her off of him.

“How do you want me, baby?” She asked, breathing heavy as her hand slipped up and down his length. He bit down on his lip before gently pushing her back on the couch, which was low enough to the ground that he could get on one knee and be able to line himself up with her sopping center. 

Kelvin held his dick at the base, as she had done, and tapped it against her clit a couple times, listening as she moaned quietly. “You need me baby?” He looked back up at her, watching her bite her lip, nod, and ‘mhm’ again. He shook his head. “Ask me nice.”

“Please, Kel, please fuck me.” She whimpered with no hesitation, bringing her hand to rest on his stomach, tracing the abs there. “Fuck me, baby, you the only one that can make me cum right?”

“Yeah?” His voice was low and gravely as he slid into her, both of them moaning immediately. She had forgotten how much he could fill her up, especially now as he slid in all the way so her clit was touching his pelvis. Her eyes rolled back at the sensation. “None of them other niggas filling you up like this, baby?” Hmm?”

She would’ve answered but he began to rock in and out of her, his hips taking on a rhythm that had her eyes squeezing shut in pleasure. His arm stretched out above her head to get a grip on the back of the couch and Nevaeh wrapped her legs around his hips. Her hands settled on his hips, feeling him push into her over and over again.

His name fell from her lips over and over and over again. He was groaning quietly, muttering about how tight she was, how wet she was, “fuck I missed this shit” and “I still fuckin’ love you baby”.

“I love you too, yes, please, faster.” She answered back and he picked up his pace, letting his arm fall as he pressed his forehead against hers. 

“You still love me, baby? Huh?” He pressed a long kiss to her lips, their tongues dancing for a moment before she let out another moan when his fingers reached down to rub her clit once more. “Say it again.”

“Yesss, I love you baby. I love you Kelvin, I love you so much.” There were tears in her eyes, both from pleasure and from whatever emotion he was drawing out of her with his words. This was not how she thought lunch was going to go today.

“I love you too.” He groaned out, kissing his way back down her neck as he began to rub her faster, piston his hips into her with more roughness. “Cum for me, baby, come on.”

She didn’t need much more encouragement, tightening her legs around him as she wailed out during her orgasm. She stars behind her closed eyes, pressing her hands tightly against his back. Kelvin followed soon after, his hips stuttering as he came in her, her name whispered from his lips into her neck.

He still moved inside of her, slowly, until he finally pulled out of her. They both moaned together again and Kelvin rolled over to lay half on the couch as she did, both of their chests heaving as they tried to catch their breaths. He eventually lifted himself up, picking up her still trembling legs and putting them on the couch as he walked over to the bathroom. Nevaeh listened as the water ran and then he walked over with a warm rag, wiping her down gently, something he had done hundreds of times before, just not in a very long time. She got up after he sat down and rushed to the bathroom while he waited for her, smirking at the wet spot on the cushion where they’d both been minutes ago.

“I just got this shit too.” He looked up at her as she sauntered over to him, bending over to pick up his discard shirt and slip it over her head.

“My bad. I’ll get you a new one.” His hand settled on her thigh as she stood between his bare legs, looking down at him with a small smile.

“We should talk about this.” She muttered. Kelvin nodded, standing up as he did so, before picking her up bridal style. 

“Oh definitely. We can do exactly that ... over breakfast. Tomorrow.” He carried them toward the stairs leading to the bedroom upstairs. “For now? I got some shit I gotta take care of. Make up for time lost. I’m thinking I gotta make you cum for every month we spent apart?”

Nevaeh’s jaw dropped. “Thirty orgasms, oh my God, are you trying to kill me?”

“Well twenty-eight now.” He laughed and through her shock, she couldn’t help but to laugh too. “What can I say, I missed you baby. I missed you bad.”

[plumeria1]

Painted Love

Masterlist

Note : Here's my new Vi x Reader. Hope you like it 😊 Pairing : Vi x painter Fem Reader

Content : Fluff

Warning : None

Summary : You made a surprise for Vi

It was finally there, the letter you had been waiting for was finally in your hands. Yet you couldn't bring yourself to open it, too worried about the response.

A few weeks ago, a friend of your mother's had seen some of your paintings. She said that you had a lot of talent and that you deserved to see your works exhibited.

Without telling you, she had contacted her friend Mel Medarda, a renowned gallery owner in the city, and sent her some of your paintings to exhibit in her gallery.

The day she told you, you had a little argument, but she told you to give your art a chance, and you were convinced.

Mel was supposed to send you a letter indicating what she thought of your works and if she wanted to exhibit them.

And since then you had been waiting, sometimes spending hours thinking and asking yourself a bunch of questions.

- Stop stressing, I'm sure it's a good news.

Vi, your girlfriend, sat next to you on the couch and watched you stare at the envelope. Vi had always been by your side since the day you met her in high school, through the time your father disowned you when you confessed that you were lesbian.

That day, Vi had never let go of your hand, in fact, after that, she never let it go again.

- I will always stay close to you, I will never abandon you.

That's what she had told you after confessing her feelings. You had never been happier than at that moment.

- And what if she didn't like it and found it horrible ?

- Don't say that, you are very talented and if she doesn't see it, it's because she's an idiot.

You handed her the envelope.

- Open it.

She laughs softly, shaking her head, her pink hair following the movement of her head.

- No way, it's your letter, you open it.

You knew she was saying that to get back at you, after all, you had said the same thing to her when she received her university letter to find out if she had gotten the sports scholarship she had applied for.

You took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, pushing a long strand of hair behind your ear, you always did that when you were stressed. Vi had always found it adorable.

You slowly opened the envelope and read the letter carefully to make sure you understood its contents.

Vi watched you read, you furrowed your brows as if you couldn't believe what you were reading, and she saw your smile slowly grow.

- No way. I can't believe it !

- A problem ?

- No. Mel says she loved my paintings and wants to dedicate an entire exhibition to them. I have a week to give her my answer and if I say yes, the exhibition will be in six months.

- That's great, sweetie ! I knew you could do it.

You took her in your arms, crumpling the letter in the process, but you didn't pay attention to it. The question didn't even arise, of course you were going to accept.

The next day, you replied to Mel, saying that you accepted her proposal, and things seemed to move at lightning speed.

You spent hours in the workshop that Vi had set up for you in your apartment. Sometimes she had to come and get you to go to sleep, you grumbled just for show, but in reality, you loved falling asleep in her arms.

Sometimes she was curious to see what you were painting, and you let her look at each one except for the one you seemed to spend the most time on, which you covered with a sheet every time she came to see you.

You said it was the centerpiece of your exhibition and that no one but you had the right to see it.

Without you realizing it, six months had passed and the day of the exhibition had arrived. The room was crowded, and everyone present was looking at your paintings while chatting with glasses of champagne in hand.

You felt like you could hear the beating of your own heart, you kept fiddling with the long sleeves of your dress and looked around you.

A hand grasped yours and you found yourself face to face with Vi, who smiled gently at you.

- Everything will be fine stop worrying.

You held her hand and looked into her eyes, all your doubts disappearing like magic. Since you had known each other, she had always supported and encouraged you to the point of becoming your muse, even though you had never admitted it to her.

- I'm going to tell you something. I think I was waiting for this day almost as much as you were.

- How is that possible ?

- Because I was really looking forward to seeing that painting you didn't want to show me.

The sound of Mel's glass clinking silenced the entire room, and all eyes turned towards her, but especially towards the red velvet curtain hanging behind her.

- Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for coming today to attend the very first exhibition of this young artist who, as you may have seen, is very talented.

- It is now time to unveil the most beautiful piece of this exhibition. She signaled for you to come closer. You downed your champagne in one go and headed toward her.

- Good evening, thank you for coming. Before revealing this final painting to you, I would like to say a few words.

-First, I would like to thank Mrs. Medarda who organized this exhibition, but also my mother who has always encouraged me to paint.

-But there is someone I would like to thank more than anyone, it's my girlfriend Vi who has always been there for me in good times and also in bad. She was by my side every time I thought I wouldn't succeed, and it is thanks to her encouragement and her love that I am here today. She is my muse and she always will be.

You turned to her and smiled.

- So I really hope you like this painting.

- I painted this picture with my heart and put all my love into it. I called it "Passion."

When the curtain fell, revealing the portrait, the room remained silent for a brief moment that felt like an eternity before the applause began.

You could hear the people but you only looked at Vi. Her eyes were fixed on the portrait you had painted of her. She hadn't moved or said a word.

You slowly approached her.

- So, what do you think ? I've heard everyone's opinion except yours.

She turned to look at you.

- You painted me ?

- Yes, I wanted to immortalize everything I feel for you, and painting is what I do best, so I painted your portrait. You don't like it ?

- I love it, it's magnificent, I just don't know what to say, that's all.

She held you in her arms and kissed your forehead. But a question was on her mind.

- Why did you paint me as I was 16 ?

- Because that's what you looked like the first time I saw you and fell in love with you.

You kissed her gently. The rest of the evening passed quickly, you had spoken with almost everyone and had also kept Vi company.

People were starting to leave when Mel came to find you tell you one last thing.

- Congratulations ! Your paintings were very well received, you've already sold almost everything. Ther's a man who wants to buy Vi's portrait.

- It's not for sale.

Mel looked at you incredulously.

- I haven't told you the price he's willing to pay yet.

- It doesn't matter, it's not for sale.

- Very well, after all, it's your work.

Mel left with a small smile to announce that the painting was not for sale.

Later, you took the time to turn off the lights in the room and locked the door, then you saw Vi looking at you with curiosity. You raised an eyebrow.

- What ?

- Why didn't you accept ? You didn't even know how much he was offering.

-I don't care what price he would have put on it, I don't want a stranger to have a portrait of you in his house, who knows what he would do with it.

Vi laughed before placing her hands on your hips while you placed yours on her shoulders.

-Are you jealous ?

-Not at all, I'm in love.

You pulled her into a deep passionate kiss, then rested your forehead against hers with a smile.

- Anyway, even if he had the painting, you would still be the only one to possess the original.

- I certainly hope so.

After checking one last time that the door was properly closed, you took the hand Vi was offering you and you both headed home to get warm.

[seancekitsch]

Hazbin Hotel—Lucifer x Reader where he’s a love struck fool for reader? May or may not be inspired by that little imagine you posted not too long ago \(//∇//)\

uhhh this kinda got away from me. enjoy!!

You’d have to be a fool not to notice how the King of Hell acts around you, even Angel and Husk told you that. But you’re not blinded to situation, you know exactly what’s going on. You rest your elbow on the bar next to Angel as Charlie gathers the hotel residents and staff, a job not unlike herding cats. Everyone trickles in slowly, waiting for the next odd trust bond activity Charlie has come up with now. Last week was heartfelt letter writing, and the three of you at the bar had not taken it seriously. You handed Husk a comedic inner monologue about how much you needed to pee, Husk handed Angel a surprisingly detailed made up story about a talking whisky bottle, and Angel handed you a list of what roles he’d cast the entire hotel in a porno.

“What do you think they’ll have us do this time?” Husk mumbles to you, topping off your drink.

“Honestly, not a fan of the way Princess is smiling right now,” you answer.

Charlie waves everyone over, and Vaggie smiles uncomfortably, ready for everyone to start.

“Okay Good Afternoon,” Charlie starts, practically bouncing, “Today we’re going to try to form new bonds!”

Immediately, she’s met with groaning and mumbling, but thats never stopped her and it won’t today either.

“So what better way to do that then having a buddy for the next twenty four hours!” She shouts, and Vaggie’s face immediately makes sense.

“I’ve separated everyone from their regular group so they can build these bonds and be open!”

“…got something you could open…” you hear Angel mumble under his breath.

Charlie gives her dad a thumbs up.

“The first pairing is… my dad and Y/n!”

The Morningstar family sucks at being subtle or lying.

“So what did you have planned for the day?” Lucifer asks while sitting beside you, his voice short and clipped, his entire demeanor like he’s on high alert. It’s cute, really.

“Ah don’t worry about it,” you shrug, “What does the areat King of Hell do with his day?”

Lucifer rubs his neck, fidgeting under your question.

“It’s not… Its not actually all that interesting,” he admits, “You’ve probably got something cooler going on.”

There’s something he’s avoiding besides your gaze, but you don’t press the issue.

You look across the lobby to Angel, who pauses his conversation with Vaggie to mouth something that looked like the word “fart” to you, and then wink.

Your art gallery. Right.

“Have you ever been to Pentagram City’s biggest art gallery?” you ask him.

Lucifer is a gentleman. You understand how he stole the first man’s first two wives from him. Sure, he’s stumbling and stuttering and a nervous wreck, but he’s holding doors open for you and asking about your thoughts and feelings about the pieces on display, he’s accidentally on purpose almost held your hand three times now. Next time he does it, you’re just going to grab his damn hand.

You stare at the sculpture in front of you, noting that you should have someone move this to a different room. In fact, there’s a few things you’ve noticed while showing Lucifer the art that you should have moved around. Maybe you’ve been neglecting the gallery a bit more than you thought now that you live at the hotel.

“Hey, Can I ask you about these?” Lucifer’s voice booms from the next room over. Sighing, you type a quick note into your V-Phone and turn.

Oh shit.

Lucifer found THAT room.

You cross the threshold into the room you never go into, the room with your own work. Honestly, it’s not even curated the way the other rooms and floors are. This is where you put anything that you think can leave your studio. He’s in front of one of your biggest paintings, and one of your newest. It’s an abstract piece about your feelings about redemption, about your past sins, about adjusting to the hotel. Which it sounds stupid when you put it like that, but it made sense in the moment and you’re proud of it.

He turns and smiles before looking back at the painting.

“Is the uh, is the artist willing to sell this piece?” he asks, his cheeks and the tips of his ears turning red.

Now it’s your turn to get nervous. You’ve never actually sold any of your own pieces before.

“I uh- I’m not gonna sell it to you,” you tell him, “You can have it.”

It would be weird to take money from Lucifer, even if he is offering. You like him a decent amount and a transaction between the two of you would make it weird. It would feel like you owe him, even though your art would technically satisfy that. If he was one of the Vees or someone you dislike, you would have immediately taken money.

“But the artist-“

“Me,” you clarify, and you finally remember you don’t tag your own art. Lucifer’s jaw drops at your admission.

“I’d really like to support your work, it’s magnificent,” Lucifer insists, and you feel your cheeks burning. He turns to gesture to another piece, and his knuckles brush your own.

Fuck it. You told yourself you’d do it. You grab Lucifer’s hand in your own, a bold move.

“Just think about it as a gift,” you tell him, “A thank you for the lovely day we’ve had.”

You inwardly cringe, knowing that when you recount today at the lobby bar your drinking buddies are going to tear you a new one for that corny line. But it fits for Lucifer; he’s bringing out a side of you that you really haven’t seen in a while.

“Thank you uh, gorgeous,” he tacks on the pet name like even he isn’t sure about it, and with his hand still in yours, attempts to lean against a sculpture, stumbling as he misses it and bringing you along with him. He tugs you by the arm, jerking you closer to him. He’s majorly out of practice.

“I have a studio upstairs if you want to see more?” you offer, not really sure if you thought that through.

“More art? Absolutely!” He recovers quickly, enthusiasm dripping from his voice.

You smile as you pull him towards the hallway, butterflies in your stomach as it dawns on you that he’s going to be the only person besides you to see the studio.

You and Lucifer end up staying there until Charlie calls him the next morning.

You notice paint on his chin after you get back to the hotel.

[applejuicebegood]

Could you possibly write some more headcanons for how Jason Todd would slowly warm up to affection? I know you mentioned it briefly in a previous post if I'm remembering correctly but I just need more on him possibly not even notices how his behavior around reader begins to change!!!! (This is all prior to a relationship)

A/N: Mmmmm very sweet indeed, I love writing for this idiot sm. Thank you so much for requesting dude! I really hope that you like it!!

Masterlist

He first thought of it as impossible that someone as soft and as sweet as you could ever fit into his life of grit, violence and blood. He knew you as an opposite - a total contrast to the rough edges that fitted his body and world. But love is stubborn, and so were you.

The first major change you unintentionally enacted was the bettering of his sleeping habits. After your fifth date, you asked if he had been sleeping enough and if everything was ok. Your concern bubbling over at the sight of his lush green eyes now sunken in by a surrounding deep purple. His shoulders were slumped forward and his steps stumbled as you walked next to him down the library shelves. He perked up, the sweet trill of your voice drawing him out from his drowsy state. He was used to pulling all-nighters, his job practically required it. But it was the first time he felt guilty about it. He laughed it off, assuring you that he just couldn't sleep the other night.

Only when he clicked his apartment door close after walking you home, did he reflect on how little he actually slept in general. And never wanting to see that fearful empathy in your eyes again, he started sleeping at least more than an hour each day. It took time to fight back the creeping guilt of supposedly neglecting his duties in protecting Gotham but he would rather revel in that guilt then make you worry about him.

Once you two started officially dating, the second major change was his discovering of his love of your touch. The quickness of your shoulders bumping or you playfully hitting his arm in a fit of laughter was the purest form of electricity and warmth burrowing into his skin and settling into his bones. Your gentleness was so foreign to him. His skin throbbing in bruises or his muscles stinging in agony was familiar. The gentle brush of your warm hand over the side of his face, was not.

It took time for him to grow comfortable with your physical affection - but when he did, god, it was like discovering a limitless source of vitality, all wrapped up in the most flawlessly beautiful of persons. He longed for the closeness of your skin if he was gone for long missions. He would cry into the circle of your arms, all of his unexpressed gratitude and love for you boiling over in hiccuped sobs.

He leans into your touch like a cat leans into ear scratches. He'll nuzzle his cold cheeks into the softness of your palms as you brush his tangled black locks back up over his forehead. He squeezes your hand to silently signal when you both need to cross a street or just to remind him that your still by his side.

From you he learned how easy it was to smile at the world. You reintroduced him back into the reality of natural goodness existing around him. This translated back into his Red-Hooding, of now seeing a city worth protecting. Not just because your in it, but because he now knows of the beauty and the laughter it holds. Within the graffitied concrete walls and stretches of hidden art galleries and grassroots community centres. Of the small queer clubs and community bookstores both of you would frequent. He learned to fall in love with Gotham because he fell in love with you.

Before going public with your relationship to his family, the sudden shift in his stern behaviour was glaring. Jason was gentler and actually trying, although awkwardly, to deepen his connection to his little brothers and sisters. You said that he was going to be stuck with them anyway, so he should learn to see them as the family he always deserved to have. Tim and Duke tease him, egging him on to explain why he decided to show up with a Tupperware of hand-baked velvet cookies for Steph and Cass (no, he didn't let Tim and Duke have any). He could throw a pillow at them and chase them through the manor, telling them to shut their faces, but nothing could distract anybody from the fact that someone was bringing back a Jason both Dick and Bruce thought they had buried.

[dragon-kazansky]

Bridgerton shade of blue

Benedict Bridgerton x Female Reader

Benedict bumps into you, quite literally, at a ball while trying to escape his mother's attempts to find him a partner. You decide to humour him with a dance, not realising just how entwined you would become with him. It seems the universe will find every excuse to push you and Benedict together, no matter how much you fight it.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Season one

Chapter Two - Empty drawing rooms

♡♡♡

Your mother does not keep her thoughts to herself about what dancing with Benedict Bridgerton may have done for you. All evening, even after you are home, she continues on and on about the thought of having callers come morning.

You sleep easy that night. You do not think one dance with a man, you will be unlikely ever to cross paths again with, will affect your prospects all that much.

You're woken by the violent pulling of your curtains. Light floods into your room and cascades across your bed. You sigh softly as you force your eyes open and push yourself up into a sitting position.

"Get up! We must get you dressed and ready!" Your mother eagerly exclaims.

You're forced from your bed and urged into the tub. You're scrubbed raw from head to toe. Your hair is brushed surely a hundred times. You dress, and your mother chooses a necklace to compliment your gown.

Before you know it, you're sitting in the drawing room with her. Your mother has tea and biscuits made.

The drawing room is quiet.

Occasionally, a carriage is heard passing the house. Sometimes you hear the footsteps of staff coming and going outside the door. Not a single sound of knocking is heard.

Your mother becomes restless as the hours pass. "I was certain Mr Bridgerton dancing with you would garner some attention."

"Mother, it was one dance. Anyway, people had their eyes on his sister. No one was looking at us. He barely spoke to me." You tell her, picking up a book you had placed on the table earlier that morning.

"Still, that family is well known and wealthy too. People should always be watching those lf well breeding." She sighs.

You dare not comment further and focus on your book. You've read two chapters before your mother calls it quits and leaves. You close the book and sigh again.

♡♡♡

Daphne Bridgerton had received no callers. The fault did not lie with her for she was perfect in every way. The fault lay with her eldest brother.

Anthony had a habit of scaring everyone off. He had every excuse under the sun as to why no one was suitable for his sister. While his mother wished love for her children I their marriages, Anthony saw more as finding someone merely suitable.

Daphne was disappointed at her lack of visitors. Each day that passed without a caller, her spirit began to dwindle.

She received only one caller. Lord Berbrooke. He was the last person she had hoped to see.

While Violet had been quite busy keeping her daughter company during the passing days, she still found time to corner Benedict.

Colin was paying a visit to the Featherington family to call upon Miss Thompson. Benedict was not calling upon anyone, and Violet hoped the young lady he had danced with could have been an option.

"Benedict."

The second eldest son jumped out of his skin at the sudden appearance of his mother in the doorway.

"Mother."

Benedict had spent most of the day sketching in his book. He loved drawing, painting, and doodling. Art was his passion. He hoped one day to be good enough to have his work up in galleries.

"Have you paid any visits yet?" Violet asks, pretending to be interested in the decor of the room as she comes closer to where her son lounges.

Benedict stills his hand and glances up at her. "I have not."

Violet looks disappointed. "What about that lovely young lady you danced with?"

"Hm? Oh. I don't even remember her name."

That was a lie. He did remember your name. He just didn't want give his mother false hope. Benedict had no intention of seeking out a wife right now.

"Benedict," she sighs. "I do wish you would try."

"How is Daphne doing?" He asks, immediately shooting down any chance of his mother's interrogation.

"Not so well. Anthony is riding with her in the park. Your brother is... making things quite difficult." Violet feels for her daughter. She juat wants Daphne to be happy. She wants all her children to be happy.

"Yes. Anthony can be overbearing." Benedict resumes his sketch.

Violet knew she would get nothing else out of her son and left quietly. Benedict stopped sketching when she left the room and glanced at the door. He sighs softly to himself.

One day, yes, he'll find a wife. Just not yet.

♡♡♡

Lady Whistledown had made several comments about Daphne Bridgerton's lack of callers. You could only wonder how she was feeling at this time.

Every morning, your mother brought you into the drawing room, and you would wait several hours, but no one came to see you.

While your mother moaned about how the gentlemen lf the ton didn't have an eye at all, she particularly felt disappointed about the fact Benedict Bridgerton himself didn't even come to call. You had told her many times over the last week that the dance wasn't really anything.

He simply used you as an opportunity to avoid his mother, and you knew it.

Deciding to push every Bridgerton from your mind, you decided to focus on yourself. Another ball would mean another chance. There would be plenty of people to dance with there. You shall make sure to introduce yourself, unlike last time.

The opera. That came first. You were attending with your mother. As you were making your way toward your seats, you caught sight of Violet Bridgerton with her daughter Daphne. You didn't have to look far to spot Anthony and Benedict.

Your mind shifts slightly to the moment when you had bumped into the eldest son. The weight of his body colliding with yours, almost sending to the ground. However, his warm hands were quick to steady you.

You shake him from your mind as you find your seat.

Benedict had been speaking his brother when he caught sight of something in the corner of his eye. He looked up just in time to catch a glimpse of you sitting down. He turns his attention back to his brother.

If his mother caught him, he would never hear the end of it. Even if there was nothing to discuss. You were a perfect stranger to him.

You spend the whole show with your eyes on the stage. When it's over, you rise with your mother and exit into the lobby. Your mother gets caught up in conversation with some of the other mama's, and you find yourself waiting by the door alone. Your eyes scan the crowds of people heading home for the evening.

Benedict is walking with his brother when he spots you by the door. He can't help thinking you look a little cold standing there. The door was open to allow people to leave with ease.

"Hello again." He finds himself stopping I front of you. Anthony either doesn't notice or doesn't care that he is no longer being followed by his brother.

You turn your head and find yourself staring at the second Bridgerton.

"Hello."

Silence settles between you as he stands there and looks at you. You're once again faced with a slightly awkward pause as you have no idea what to say to him. Last time, he was distracted by keeping his mother at bay. This time, it seems he simply has no idea what to say to you either.

"Are you well?" He asks.

You are almost startled by the sound of his voice, half expecting him to just leave after a while.

"Yes. Quite well, thank you."

Benedict takes note of how you pull your shawl around you tighter. The breeze from the door is clearly bothering you.

"Are you waiting for someone?" He asks.

"My Mama. She is busy gossiping, I assume." You move your gaze over to where she stands, talking to a little group of other mothers.

Benedict glances that way and chuckles slightly. "Ah. Why don't you wait over on that bench? You'll be warmer there." He gestures to the velvet cushioned seat behind you. You find yourself drifting that way with him.

"I believe your brother has departed." You say, sitting down. Benedict takes a seat too.

"Yes. Though Mother and Daphne are still here, I shall return with them." He looks over to where his mother speaks with Lady Danbury.

Soon enough, his attention is back on you, though. "Did you enjoy the ball the other night?" He asks.

You look at him. "It was alright. The first one is always strange."

"Yes. I suppose it can be. Lots of new faces."

You understood that he was possibly referring to the fact that neither of you had seen each other before, despite your knowing of his family.

"Yes."

"How many names did you get on your card?"

"Just one," you confess. It was true that his name was the only one. You danced with no other that night, for no one spared you a glance. Not that you planned on telling him that.

"I was the only one?"

You turn toward the lobby to avoid his gaze. Benedict understands enough. He is surprised by this information.

"I do not recall you being there the day the debutantes were presented to the Queen." He tries changing the topic. He wants to know you a bit better.

"I wasn't in London. I arrived the day after."

He looks at you quietly for a moment. There is something so calming about your presence.

"How is your sister doing?" You ask, spotting Daphne trying to avoid a certain lord.

"She has only had one caller so far." Benedict points out.

"Oh. Surprising. I was sure she would be swarmed with suitors." You glance back toward her. She looks a little down.

"She'll be fine, I'm sure." Benedict turns back to you. "I'm sorry about the ball. I wasn't a very good partner. Too distracted."

You return your attention back to him. "Yes. I was aware."

"Perhaps I can make it up to you at the next one?" He asks.

"It's alright. You don't need to." You offer him a smile.

"Nonsense. I'm a gentleman." He smiles back.

Before either of you can say any more, Violet comes over with Daphne in tow. You both look up to see the Dowager Viscountess smiling at you both.

"Benedict, we are leaving." She speaks softly.

Benedict glances at you and then stands slowly. He offers you his hand. You take it and stand with him.

"Mother. Daphne." He nods.

"Who is this?" Violet asks, looking at you. She gives off a warm and calming aura. Yet, she looks quite excitable right about now.

Benedict speaks your name. "I was keeping the young lady company while she waited for her mother."

Violet hadn't once taken her eyes off of you. Daphne looked up at her brother, who just shook his head at her. He knew what they were thinking. He was going to hear about this all night now.

"You must come to dinner," Violet insists.

You all look at her.

"Mofher." Benedict sighs.

Daphne smiles and steps forward. "Really, you must."

You look at Daphne and feel comfort. Perhaps she is looking for a friend too.

"Name the day," you say, turning to Violet.

Benedict looks at his mother with faux disdain. He knows what game she is playing. His mother was not subtle in her matchmaking attempts.

"Splended. I shall send an invite very soon."

Much to the ignorance of her children, she had already made plans with Lady Danbury to invite the Duke for dinner so he may get to know Daphne. They would make a handsome couple, she thinks. Why not offer the same opportunity to her son and his new friend?

Violet was so looking forward to this.

Benedict bids you goodnight and offers Daphne his arm. She takes it and bids you farewell too. Violet smiles at you and takes her leave, following her children outside.

Only then does your mother come over. "What was that just now?" She asks. The same light in her eyes had been in Violet's.

"Nothing, Mama."

She doesn't believe you. She traps your arm with hers and guides you out to the carriages.

"That Bridgerton boy, he was the one who danced with you at the ball, yes?" She smiles.

"Benedict Bridgerton. Yes."

"Perhaps you have an admirer!" She says with glee.

"Not st all, mother. He was merely being polite."

She brushes off your words and continues to go down a spiral of why he is taken with you and will wish to court you soon. You sense no such feelings from the man. There is no reason one cannot become acquainted with others without feelings being involved.

You would accept the dinner invitation purely out of curious interest of his family. The Bridgerton's certainly seem like interesting people to know.

♡♡♡

Benedict is sketching in his room when his mother comes in. They had been home merely an hour after the opera. She clutches a letter in her hand as she comes over to him.

"How does this sound?" She holds out the letter to him. Benedict sighs and takes it, skimming the words.

Its addressed to you.

'You are invited to our home this Friday evening for dinner. Be here for 6 and stay as long as you like.

Lady V.Bridgerton.'

"Sounds fine." He hands the letter back. Benedict returns to his sketch.

Violet looks at him. "She's a find lady."

"Hm." Benedict pays her little mind.

Violet looks defeated. It would seem Benedict really has no interest in you. Still, she would welcome you into her home for the evening.

When she leaves, Benedict looks up again. He stares at the door.

He simply has no interest in courting. Not yet.

♡♡♡

@callmemana - @lilscast - @imgondeletedis - @benedictbridgertons - @clownsdiehard - @wxnterwidow333

@sillynilly27 - @autumn-slaves - @ben-has-arrived -

[awriterinthenight]

"Is this real?"-Jess Mariano

words: 983

warnings: Jess being a tiny bit of an asshole, language, Jess Mariano x Artist!Reader

summary: You and Jess never got along back in New York, but when your art gets hung up in a gallery, Jess is the first person you want to tell. But, he's no longer in New York

You'd done it, you actually did it. This seemed like something you had only dreamed of, but here it was the proof that you actually had done it.

You were a very passionate artist, working hard on everything you did. Making sure every painting was almost perfect, and it seemed to finally pay off. Your art was being hung up in one of the biggest art galleries. They were doing an installment of a young artists works, and by some miracle yours got picked,

Thinking about it, the only reason this happened was because of Jess. He wasn't the nicest to you exactly. The two of you seemed to have a random rivalry for almost no reason at all. Yet he was the one who always pushed you.

If he thought something was off with your painting, he wasn't afraid to say it, and have you rethink the entire painting. Sometimes you talked about how one day you wanted your art framed in a famous gallery. If he overheard that he would immediately say something like 'not with that splotchy painting' which would annoy you, especially since he wasn't an artist. But now you realized that without his helpful critiques, you probably wouldn't be here right now.

As strange as it sounds, all you wanted to do was run to him and tell him all about how your art was going to be in a gallery. Even though he was a dick about your art, sometimes if you really accomplished something, like winning a prize or being recognized, he would congratulate you and be entirely sincere about it.

The thing was though, that Jess no longer lived in New York. His mom had shipped him down to some random small town to live with his uncle. You didn't know his current number, or even where he was, so it looked like you had to give up hope.

Or, at least you thought you did, till you remembered you knew Liz's number. You called her, asking where Jess was. She seemed suspicious to why some girl was asking about where he was, but once you explained that you were his friend, which is kind of a lie, but also kind of not, she gladly told you that he was in some town called Stars Hollow, living with his uncle Luke, at a diner called Luke's.

You thanked Liz for the information, quickly grabbing your keys and running to your car. The drive from New York to Stars Hollow was only about 2 hours with traffic. You made it down there in what felt like almost no time, it was now almost 4pm when you parked outside of the diner, where you could see Jess from the window.

Grabbing the newspaper that had the picture of your art, and the article on it, you ran inside. A site like this was something new for the people of Stars Hollow, so they were all intrigued when an unfamiliar girl, in a leather jack ran into Luke's diner, shouting, "Jess, jess."

Jess looked up from where he was taking an order behind the counter, immediately recognizing your voice in a second, "Y/N, w-what are you doing he-" he started to say, getting cut off by you.

"Shut up, just read this," you told him, practically shoving the paper into his hands, as you leant over the counter.

He smirked at you demanding him to read the paper, "Alright, alright calm down," he said, starting to read the paper. He read it rather quickly, his eyes picking up on keywords. In moments his mouth broke into a huge grin, he had read how your artwork was being framed in a rather well known gallery.

"No way, is this real?" he asked, in shock at how you finally accomplished your dreams.

You nodded frantically, "Yes, it's already up, but the exhibit opens next week," you told him.

Not being able to contain his excitement for you, he moved around the counter, hugging you. He even spun you around a couple times, proud of you for your accomplishment.

"I can't believe it," he said, smiling down at you after he set you down, "We have to celebrate, how long are you in town for?" he asked.

You shrugged, "I don't know, how long do you want me to stay?" you ask a seemingly innocent question, since you weren't in any rush to leave.

Jess could feel his brain short circuit at that moment. He desperately wanted to say 'forever', but knew that couldn't, "My shift ends at 6, so you can come back around then, and if you want you can find somewhere to crash for the night, then leave in the morning," Jess said, trying not to think of how you might have to leave at some point.

"Perfect," you said, "I'll come back around 6 then, I'll see you later," you told him, walking out of Luke's diner. You were gonna spend the next two hours touring around town and some of the small shops.

Jess didn't realize it until now, but the entire diner had been quiet since the moment you walked in. Everyone was in utter shock that the delinquent Jess Mariano, who was known for not caring for anyone, was just seen with a girl, who he was looking at as if she was the only important thing in this world.

"What are you all staring at," he yelled, making everyone go back to their usual activities, now that regular Jess was back. He turned to Luke who was still staring at him, "What, why are you looking at me like that?" he asked, annoyed at everyone.

"Nothing," Luke said, too tired to deal with this. You didn't know it yet, but soon you would be the talk of the town. The girl who was able to make Jess Mariano, actually care for someone.

[burningembers91]

Green Eyed Monster - Park Gyeong-Seok x Fem!Reader

Follow up piece to:

Loving You From Afar The Shape of You Family Unit The Artist's Muse Breaking Eggs Knock at the Door

Synopsis: Park Gyeong-Seok's ex-wife has returned, determined to take back what's hers. But you're not going down without a fight.

A/N: So this piece is somewhat of a filler, to introduce Gyeong-Seok's wife and set up the next part of the story :)

Kim Mi-Na had always been selfish. She’d spent most of her life riding the coattails of others, using them until she got what she wanted, before leaving them high and dry. She never felt remorse for her actions; in her view if people were dumb enough to fall for her bullshit, they deserved to be taken advantage of.

Park Gyeong-Seok had been the perfect person for Mi-Na to sink her acrylic claws into. He was handsome, he had big dreams, and he was head over heels for her. She latched on like a parasite, clinging to him as he worked his way towards success. Gyeong-Seok was a successful artist, who had dreams of opening his own gallery one day. Mi-Na knew that galleries could make a lot of money, and if she twisted this man tightly enough around her finger, she’d never have to work again.

But she hadn’t on planned on getting pregnant, hadn’t planned on giving birth to a baby whose medical needs would almost certainly drain her pitiful husband’s bank account. As the perfect life she had planned for herself spectacularly fell apart, Mi-Na did what she did best; she ran away. For three years she bounced between men, bleeding them dry of cash before moving on. She received the divorce papers from Gyeong-Seok’s lawyers on the grounds of malicious desertion and wondered bitterly how he’d managed to scrape together enough cash for a lawyer. She had no feelings for him or their daughter, she never had, but the fact that he was taking steps to get rid of her from their lives angered her. She thought about returning, but she couldn’t face having to care for a sickly thing like Na-Yeon.

It wasn’t until she saw you with her ex-husband that the green-eyed monster named jealously really raised its head. Three years it had been since she’d last seen Gyeong-Seok, and he appeared to be thriving. She’s spotted you out for lunch, playing happy families with the daughter she’d birthed. She had no idea who you were, but she had the means of finding out. Within 24 hours, Mi-Na had your name, address and your place of work. She followed you, watching as you took care of her daughter. She heard Na-Yeon call you mummy, saw how you loved her in a way Mi-Na never had. She watched as you held hands with Gyeong-Seok, as he got down on one knee and proposed to you. She’d left him because he could no longer give her the lifestyle she desired, and yet the envy that entwined itself around her soul was almost blinding. She decided in that moment that she’d tear apart the little family you’d created, would take back what was rightfully hers. She’d done her fair share of digging on Gyeong-Seok, and while he wasn’t the rich art gallery owner she’d envisioned, she was desperate for money, and he had a stable enough job now as a teacher. All she needed to do was play her cards right, and her ex would be putty in her hands once more.

***

You sat staring at the floor as Gyeong-Seok paced, his face flushed with anger. Na-Yeon had only just stopped crying, her soft snivels muted against your chest as you rocked her soothingly. You held her close, fear gripping you as you waited for Gyeong-Seok to speak. Mi-Na had upended your perfect life, demanding access to the child she’s never bothered to take an interest in. She’d stormed into your home, shouting Na-Yeon’s name, terrifying the little girl who had no idea who her mother was. You could feel yourself begin to shake, could feel the anger rising in you like a tidal wave. This was your family, and no one was going to take them away. She’d only left when you’d agreed to meet the next day, to hear what she had to say.

Gyeong-Seok knew Mi-na wouldn’t play fair. His efforts and money spent trying to divorce her had almost rendered him homeless, but it hadn’t broken him. it taken him a while to realise how abusive she’d been, how she’d used him for a comfortable lifestyle and nothing more. Now that you’d shown him what real love was, he’d been a fool to think Mi-Na ever cared for him.

“What are we going to do?” Your voice was quiet and hoarse as you clung to the little girl you loved as though she were your own. Mi-Na had sworn she’d get her daughter back, had demanded access to the child she’d neglected for three years. You weren’t sure if she’d been bluffing, but you were too scared to take your chances.

“I’m not going to let her win,” Gyeong-Seok promised, coming to sit next to you. “I promise you; Mi-Na will not break this family apart.”

You meant more to him that Mi-Na ever had, had been more of a mother to Na-Yeon than she ever could have been. Gyeong-Seok had been serious about creating a life with you, about marrying you, raising Na-Yeon together and maybe even having a child of your own.

He would meet his ex-wife tomorrow, but he would refuse to give into her demands. She had broken him, chewed him up and spit him out, and left her own daughter as if she were nothing. Mi-Na didn’t deserve a second chance, and Gyeong-Seok wouldn’t allow her to walk over him like she had done before.

Gyeong-Seok’s life was perfect, and he wasn’t about to let anyone take it away. If it was a fight Mi-Na wanted, then it was a fight she was going to get.