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cleo-fox · 6 months ago

Text

Conquer

Part 2 of 5

Series Masterlist

Series Summary: The king intends to take a bride. You just never thought it would be you. (Soulmate AU where Loki won)

Chapter Summary: It’s no surprise that Loki has a gift for talking dirty and you wish that it didn’t work as well as it does. You wish that—for example—it were a little more challenging for him to talk you into letting him get you off in the limo on your way to a gala event hosted by the Swedish government.

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

Tag List: I don’t have a tag list for this fic, sorry! The best way to hear about updates is to follow me on Tumblr or subscribe to the fic on AO3.

Chapter Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, enemies to lovers, dirty talk, praise kink, edging, teasing, p in v sex, vaginal fingering, orgasm delay, semi-public sex, light Dom/sub. (see series masterlist for series warnings)

A/N: I realize that the GIF I'm using for this chapter is TVA!Loki, but the attitude is very much in keeping with this chapter, so I decided to forgo accuracy in favor of thirst. Also, you may be thinking "Part 2 of 5? I thought this was going to be 3 chapters!" Me too. Welcome to what it's like being in my brain: even I don't know what's going on here.

The wedding night isn’t the end of the sex, of course.

The immediate, sharp need for your first coupling is gone, but there’s a dull and persistent ache that keeps you coming back to his bed every night (and several times during the day). Loki is equally ravenous, if not more so.

While you’ve come to terms with the fact that you’re going to fuck him, you still don’t like being the one to initiate sex. It sounds silly, but it feels like admitting to a vulnerability that you’re not prepared to acknowledge, let alone act on.

The problem is that your sex drive has skyrocketed since the wedding.

You’ve heard about this happening—the saying soulbonds are meant to be consummated, but some are more thorough than others didn’t come out of nowhere. You just didn’t think it would be a problem for you, especially once you found out who your soulmate was.

You were wrong about this, of course—you are constantly horny. Your mind is a cineplex of perversion, constantly playing memories of the times that he has fucked you, ways he might fuck you next, his hands, his lips, his tongue, his annoyingly perfect cock. It makes you want to run your brain through the washing machine, like a couple of Tide pods and an extra rinse cycle might fix this.

But the part that drives you crazy is that he always seems to know when you’re in these moods and he always manages to claim the upper hand. It is—like so many things with Loki—profoundly irritating.

It’s all physical—your conversations are limited to the mundane or the utterly filthy. It’s no surprise that Loki has a gift for talking dirty and you wish that it didn’t work as well as it does. You wish that—for example—it were a little more challenging for him to talk you into letting him get you off in the limo on your way to a gala event hosted by the Swedish government.

You can feel his gaze caressing your body as you walk down the stairs to meet him. Your dress is gold and glittery, and hugs your curves while the slit sneaks just high enough that you know the fashion blogs will call it daring. You keep your eyes on your feet and your hand on the railing as you navigate the stairs in your heels. Normally, Loki would comment on that—something about how you needed proper education in comportment, you were a queen, queens don’t stare at their feet, people expected elegance, blah, blah, blah. Tonight, though, he’s silent as he takes you in, which you know means that he’s particularly enchanted by how you look. For a brief moment, you allow yourself to feel sexy and confident, to enjoy the fact that the most powerful man on the planet has been rendered speechless by how you look.

Are you ridiculously horny? Sure, but you’ve got it under control. You can hold out for an evening and you’re pretty sure Loki hasn’t figured it out. If he had, he almost certainly would have said something inappropriate when he offered you his arm. He’s probably going to be distracted by the gala anyway. Why had you ever doubted yourself?

When the two of you get into the limo, you remember why.

The moment the door shuts behind you, Loki is pulling you close, his hands cupping your breasts and then sliding down to your thighs while his lips latch on to the spot where your neck and shoulder meet.

“What are you doing?” you ask, as though his intentions are in any way unclear.

“You need to come. I can smell you.” He’s hiking up the fabric of your dress.

Well. So much for him not noticing.

Your cunt clenches. “We’re in public.”

“Those windows are tinted and the partition is up.” His breath is warm on your neck as the fabric of your dress pools around your waist.

“I can still wait.”

“Oh, I don’t think you can.” His fingers slip between your legs (when did you spread your legs for him?), gently grazing the gusset of your underwear, which you know is embarrassingly wet. “Soaked already,” he breathes, rubbing your clit through the thin fabric. “You need to come.”

“I-I c-can—I can wait until—oh fuck.”

He pushes the fabric of your underwear aside and lightly teases your clit with the tip of his finger.

“You can’t,” he rasps, lightly nipping at your earlobe. “You’re such a greedy, needy little thing. Your cunt is insatiable.”

He presses his first three fingers together and rubs your clit in a big, broad circle that makes your back arch.

“Fuck,” you breathe, your hands flexing against the seat. “Fuck, just like that.”

“I thought you said you could wait?” he says with that mocking lilt to his voice, the one that makes you simultaneously want to punch him in the face and also ride him hard and fast and a little rough.

“Shut up,” you grit out.

He laughs low in your ear. “Oh, you don’t mean that, I know you love it when I talk you through it.”

You hate that he’s right.

“You love hearing about how tight and wet you are, how hard I am for you.” He drops his voice lower. “How hard I’m going to fuck you.”

You can’t help the quiet moan that falls from your lips.

“Yes, you love it when I talk to you like this,” he purrs. “And I love hearing what an utterly filthy, wicked girl you are.”

You whimper, despite your best efforts to keep quiet.

“Oh, I like that little noise,” he says, increasing his pace ever so slightly. “Let me hear you.”

“I hate you so much.”

You’ve said this to him before and like all the other times, he simply laughs. “Hate me all you like, darling, but you and I both know that you love what I do to you.”

You bite your lip and try to focus on the pleasure that’s rising in your hips.

“Has anyone ever made you come as hard as I do?” he muses, like he’s just making casual conversation. “From the way that you scream and beg for it, I imagine that there haven’t been very many that were capable. Your cunt has quite clearly been neglected.”

You’re going to ignore what he’s saying. That’s what you’re going to do. There’s no reason to listen to any of what he’s saying.

“The truth is that you need me, don’t you?” he says, nipping at your ear. “You need me because I know exactly what to do to sate your needy little cunt. I know exactly how to make you scream.”

You hate how close you are, hate how the impending rush of your orgasm has basically rendered you speechless, save for a few incoherent whimpers.

He brings his lips close to your ear, lowering his voice to a growl. “What would those pitiful Midgardians say if they knew their queen was such a needy little slut?”

Instead of delivering a stern rebuke, you come hard. Incredibly hard—it is arguably one of the most intense orgasms he’s given you yet, blazing through your body with a ferocity that leaves you shaking in its wake.

And he notices.

“Oh, you liked that, didn’t you?” he purrs as he rubs you through the aftershocks. “I felt how hard you came, how utterly desperate you are for me to fuck you.”

“Loki, please,” you breathe.

He tugs at your underwear. “Take this off.”

Your first instinct is to challenge him, but the fabric is now uncomfortably damp and you desperately need him to fuck you, so you lift your hips and slide your underwear down and off your legs without any complaint. He takes it from you and sticks it in his pocket.

You expect to hear the clink of his belt buckle followed by his silky smooth voice ordering you to sink down on his unfairly perfect cock. Even though you’ve just come, you want more. You always do with him.

(You decide not to think too much about that last part).

Instead, though, he smooths his hair and settles back into his seat, looking out the window. After a moment, you clear your throat expectantly.

He glances at you, utterly casual. “What is it?”

Your eyes narrow. He’s playing dumb and you both know it.

“You made me take off my underwear,” you say, biting back a sharper reply.

“I did.”

“So…fuck me.”

He gives an amused little chuckle that makes your palm itch to slap him. “Darling, we’re in public, that would be unseemly.”

You roll your eyes before you can stop yourself. “You’re full of it.”

His gaze turns smoldering and stern. “And if you want to be full of my cock later tonight, you’ll change your attitude.”

You’re not sure if it’s the absence of underwear that makes you feel more aroused than usual or if he’s awakened some latent perversion you were previously unaware of. Possibly, it’s both.

Your breath hitches and he smiles like he knows he has the upper hand.

“Do you want that?” he says. “Do you want me to fill your tight little cunt with my big cock?”

You’re so far gone that you find yourself nodding before the thought of being contrary can even cross your mind.

“Well, then,” he says, flicking an invisible speck of dust from his tuxedo jacket, “you’re going to have to earn it.”

You huff out an irritated sigh and yank the skirt of your dress back down. “You’re an ass,” you say with a scowl.

“And you’re going to do exactly as I tell you or you won’t be coming at all.”

You stare at him, lips parted in the start of a complaint.

“And however much your pretty cunt is aching right now, I imagine it will be twice as worse tomorrow with no release,” he says. “If I’m feeling generous, of course. I could always make you wait longer.”

You close your mouth, biting back the urge to scowl.

He smirks. “That’s my good girl.”

Your cunt throbs. By the end of the night, your thighs will surely be sticky with your own arousal.

“This is unfair,” you grumble, crossing your arms and sitting back in your seat.

“Behave,” he says as you approach a rather impressive set of gates. “We’re almost there.”

A flick of his wrist sends seidr racing along your skin, smoothing your hair, straightening your dress, and fixing the smudge of lipstick at the corner of your mouth.

Your underwear remains in his pocket.

You have a feeling it’s going to be a long evening.

The Minister for Finance is giving a presentation. You’re not entirely sure that you would have been able to follow it under normal circumstances, but certainly not with Loki’s hand up your dress.

The two of you are seated at your own table—it’s one of the more stupid formalities he insists on, though you suppose it’s advantageous in this instance. His actions are obscured by the table and tablecloth and probably a little magic, but your heart is still racing with the thrill of it. His movements have been slow and deliberate, and the result is that he’s effectively been edging you for the duration of this forty-five minute presentation.

It feels incredible; it’s agony. You love it; you hate it.

“You’re being a very good girl,” Loki murmurs to you at one point and that alone nearly sends you over the edge.

“You’re a jackass,” you whisper back to him.

He chuckles. “If you want me to let you come once we get home, I’d suggest changing your tone, my love.”

You resist the urge to scowl, but only barely. “You made me come in the limo over here because you said I couldn’t wait,” you point out. “What happened to that philosophy?”

“It was supplanted by a desire to see what happens when I tease you for several hours.” A wicked smile curls at his lips. “Besides, I love how tight and desperate your cunt feels when I make you beg for me.”

You always come hardest when he makes you beg for him. You’d never admit it, though.

“I’d think you’d be more concerned about getting caught,” you say. “What do you think that would do to your image?”

“Oh, I think it would do wonders for my image,” he says. “Attentively tending to my wife’s needs despite potential social embarrassment? It’s rather feminist of me, don’t you think?”

“Okay, first of all, that is not what femini—” Your voice cuts out as he rolls his finger in a particularly devastating circle.

“What was that, my love?” he asks, voice thick with faux concern, his true intent easily betrayed by his shit eating grin. “You seem distracted.”

You’re not entirely sure if you’re tensing your muscles in anticipation of an orgasm or in an effort to stave it off. “You’re awful.”

His voice drops. “But I’m making you feel so very good, aren’t I?”

You take a deep breath, trying to soothe the tightening knot in your belly, even as your body is begging you to rush toward it.

“Aren’t I?” His tone turns stern and you hear the implied order loud and clear.

“Yes,” you bite out.

“Yes what?”

You swallow. You’re starting to get close, closer than he’s let you get so far. “Yes, you’re making me feel good.”

He smirks. “You’re getting close, aren’t you?”

You nod, taking another deep breath through your nose. Keep it together.

“I could let you come,” he muses. “Everyone’s watching the presentation. You could be quiet, couldn’t you?” His pace increases just slightly, enough for you to start to feel the tempting, shimmery tendrils of release. “Do you want that, lovely?”

It’s not a good idea, but you nod anyway.

“I had no idea you were so filthy.” His fingers are massaging your clit more firmly and you bite back a gasp because you know it won’t be long. You’re trying to keep a straight face, but you’re struggling. You are so deliciously close.

“Are you going to come for me?” he asks quietly. He knows the answer.

You nod, not trusting your voice.

But just as you’re about to start to tip over the edge, Loki’s hand retreats and the building pressure in your hips diminishes back to that steady, throbbing ache just as the Minister for Finance concludes his presentation.

Loki is smirking like he expected this. “Ah. Unfortunate timing.”

You may kill him.

“You did that on purpose, you ass,” you hiss at him.

“Oh, you’ll thank me for it later,” he says, his voice dropping low.

You scowl at him, though you suspect he’s probably right.

You get a slight reprieve during dinner, but only in the sense that Loki’s hand is no longer up your dress. Your aching arousal remains, coating the inside of your thighs. Your heartbeat seems to be pulsing in your clit, the muscles of your cunt aching as they clench repeatedly around nothing.

While his hand is no longer up your dress, Loki continues to be as unhelpful as possible.

“Shall I let you unravel on my tongue?” he murmurs to you during the main course. “Or do you need my cock first?”

“I think you need to stop talking,” you say as evenly as you can muster.

“Whatever for?” he asks with the sort of feigned innocence that tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing. “Surely you’re not concerned that I’m going to make you come simply by telling you what I want to do to you.”

You take a slow sip of your water.

“Or perhaps that idea appeals to you?” he asks, dropping his voice even lower. “Do you want me to make you come in front of all of these people?”

There’s something about the idea that’s admittedly appealing in a taboo sort of way, though you aren’t quite sure you actually want to pursue it or if you’re just so desperate that even objectively bad ideas sound good.

“Truly, I doubt you could keep quiet,” he says. “You and I both know how much you like to scream for me and I’ve been teasing you for what, three hours now? But perhaps that’s what you want. You were about to come for me earlier. Perhaps you want them all to know what a needy little sl—ah, Stefan! So good to see you again.”

Loki has seamlessly directed his attention to the Swedish official who has approached your table. His ability to be charming and personable is irritating, particularly when he’s often been uttering absolute filth to you mere seconds before. Meanwhile, your brain has completely short circuited—your thoughts stopped being anywhere near coherent when he started touching you under the table during that presentation and your cunt is pulsing. You manage a polite smile and a pleasantly vague expression that you hope hides the fact that all you can think about is Loki throwing you down on the table and fucking you until you can’t walk straight and you’ve screamed yourself hoarse.

“You conducted yourself quite well,” Loki says softly once the man leaves. “I’d never have guessed that you’re hiding such a needy, sloppy cunt under that dress.”

You take a deep breath. “What’s to stop me from slipping off somewhere and taking care of things myself?”

His eyes flash a little dangerously and you hate how much it thrills you. “If you do that, I’ll see to it that you don’t come for a week. At least.”

You are irritated with him, certainly, but you are far more irritated with yourself for being even remotely aroused by his words.

“You’re insufferable,” you hiss instead.

Loki smirks and leans in to whisper in your ear. “We’ll see how you feel a few hours from now when I’m buried in your tight cunt.” His breath ghosts over your ear and it takes everything in you not to shiver. “I suspect I’ll find you much more agreeable. You always are when you need to be fucked.” His voice drops even lower. “And I know how much you need it.”

Your legs are shaking and you wonder how you’re going to make it through the rest of the evening.

You almost come during the concert.

It was probably easier for them to set up the orchestra on the same stage as the presentation, but it means that you’re still sitting at the same table as before, which gives Loki more than enough cover to continue touching you. His hand is creeping back up your dress before the oboe even plays the tuning note and while he’s still going slowly, it’s been four and a half hours and your body is aching for release in a way you have rarely felt.

His fingertip skates across your clit just a little too quickly and firmly and suddenly, you’re poised right on the edge. One more stroke of his fingers, just one more slight movement and you’ll come.

It’s a split second decision, so quick you can scarcely think twice about it. You desperately want to come, but even though you almost let it happen earlier, you know that a stifled public orgasm isn’t really what you want. You want him to hear you scream—you don’t want to hold back.

And you want to be good for him. You want him to reward you for being good, you want to be his good girl—

You shake your head to dismiss that thought and grab his wrist in a silent warning. Quickly, he moves his hand away, sliding it to your knee. Your cunt shudders and aches, the pulsing throb of your arousal even stronger than before.

He brushes his lips against your ear. “Oh, very good, darling. You’ll be rewarded for that.”

“You could reward me now and take me home,” you say pointedly, though it would probably be more effective if your voice wasn’t so shaky.

He chuckles, draping his arm around your shoulders. Every so often, you’ve seen a candid photo of the two of you in People or one of the other celebrity magazines and you’re always taken aback by how normal you look. You imagine that it would be the same if someone were to take a photo right now—you’d look like just another couple cuddling and canoodling instead of…whatever it is you actually are. Soulmates who hate each other but fuck like it’s their job and the rent is due? There’s no easy way to classify your relationship, which you suppose is for the best: this is not the sort of thing that should be common enough to have its own word.

“We still have quite a bit to go.” He brings his index finger—the same one that had just been up your dress—up to his lips and closes his eyes like he’s tasting something divine. “Norns, I can taste how desperate you are.”

You cross your legs in the hope that it will alleviate the pulsing ache between your thighs (it doesn’t). “You’re not helping.”

“Of course I’m not,” he says. “I told you, I want you begging for me by the end of the night.”

“How have I not already exceeded that threshold?”

He smirks. “I like to be thorough.”

Five minutes later, his hand is back between your thighs.

“Let’s try that again,” he murmurs. “Do you think you’ll be able to resist a second time?”

Somehow, you do—and two more times after that. By the end of the concert, your heart is pounding, your legs feel like rubber, your cunt is dripping, and you’d easily sell your soul for an orgasm.

“You’re doing so well, darling,” says Loki. He’s been full of praise and filthy promises and you can’t decide if that makes it better or worse.

“Can we please go home?”

He chuckles. “Of course not, that would be rude.”

“I have a hard time believing you’re concerned about rudeness, considering where your hands have been this evening,” you say with a pointed look.

“You wound me.” He stands and offers you his hand. You take it grudgingly, your legs wobbling slightly. “Now. Come help me charm the Minister for Defense. I need him to be much more cooperative about sharing intelligence.”

The only good thing about schmoozing with Swedish officials is that Loki can’t have his hand up your dress while doing so. Even so, he still finds ways to be constantly touching you—a hand on your lower back, your elbow, your shoulder, your waist. These things shouldn’t be erotic, but he somehow manages to make them so. Every brush of his fingers against your bare skin is agony: you are burning for him.

You watch the clock tick through another hour and a half while trying not to let anyone on to the fact that you’re keen to leave. Time feels like it’s dragging—even when the event officially ends, it still takes another thirty-seven minutes for you to say your farewells and make your way out to the front where your limo is waiting.

Your legs are shaking as Loki helps you into the limo. He slides into the seat next to you and you find yourself leaning into him, unable to resist any longer.

The door shuts.

“Loki—” you start to say.

“When we get home,” he says promptly.

“You can’t possibly—”

“Oh, I can.” He pulls you into his lap. “I’ve been hard for you all evening,” he purrs in your ear, settling you so that the thick column of his cock presses hard against your ass. “Do you know how many times I nearly dragged you off to some empty room to take you up against the wall?” He brings his mouth down against your neck, teeth pressing against your skin just hard enough to almost hurt. You tilt your head to the side to give him better access, guiding his hands to your spread thighs.

“Do you know why I didn’t?” he murmurs against your skin.

“Because you make terrible choices?” you say before you can think it through.

His low laugh rumbles deliciously against your throat. “No.” His hands slip underneath the hem of your dress, fingertips skating along the tender skin of your inner thigh. Your hips roll forward almost unconsciously, your breath hitching.

“I didn’t because I know that you need to scream for me,” he says. “Just as much as I need to hear you.” His fingertip grazes your slit. “And you know that we can’t do that properly in the car.” His finger strokes your clit and you moan. “Poor thing,” he murmurs, tracing a slow circle over the sensitive skin. “I don’t think that I’ve ever made you this wet.”

“Loki—”

“I’m not giving you permission to come yet,” he murmurs, adding just a little more pressure. “I need you to be good for just a little longer.”

You let out a whine that you’re not at all proud of as he moves his hand away to gently massage your inner thighs. “Loki, please.”

“Be good.” His voice promises pleasure and punishment and everything in between and you feel drunk with desire.

“I’ve been so good,” you say, bringing his hand back to your cunt. “Please just let me come.”

“When we get home.”

“Just once. Please.”

He chuckles and brings his lips up to your ear. “You know that I’m going to take care of you,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. “You know I always take care of your needy cunt. I always make you come. You just need to wait a little longer.”

“I need to come now.”

“Think about how good it’s going to feel if you wait just a little longer.”

“It would feel good now.”

“It will feel even better in our bed.” He rolls his fingers in a slow circle on your clit. “You know it will.”

You whimper, rolling your hips with his hand.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this desperate,” he says. “I’m rather partial to it.”

“Don’t get used to it,” you grumble.

“Oh, I’d advise you watch your tone, darling,” he says low in your ear, sliding a finger inside you, his thumb taking up the rhythm on your clit. “I don’t want to deny you, but I may have to if you keep being so pert.”

As if to make a point, he slides another finger inside of you and you find yourself once again on the edge. You grab his wrist, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you try to hold back the rising tide within you.

“Oh, good fucking girl,” he growls and the pride in his voice makes your cunt clench hard on his retreating fingers. “You want to come so badly, but you’re being so good waiting for my permission.”

“God, this had better be worth it,” you say as you wait for the pulsing ache between your thighs to recede.

“It will be,” he murmurs against your neck. “You know it will be.” He shifts you in his lap so you face him and guides your hand to his cock. “Do you feel how hard you’ve made me? I’m aching for you.”

You rub his shaft, working your way up to catch the tab of his zipper between your fingers. He looks at you, eyes hungry, a smirk curling at his lips.

Slowly, you pull down the zipper.

“Oh you wicked thing,” he purrs, a low groan escaping him as you wrap your hand around his shaft and slowly begin stroking him. He’s rock hard and throbbing, and your hand quickly grows slick with his precome.

You lean in, brushing your lips against his ear. “I want you to fuck me,” you say, flicking your tongue against his earlobe.

He chuckles. “Are you trying to flip the tables on me, darling?”

You’re a little miffed that he figured that out so quickly. “Would that be so bad if I was?”

He laughs again. “You’re adorable.” He slides a hand along your inner thigh and back under your dress. “But I think we both know who’s really in charge here.”

Even the possibility of his hand touching your cunt has your breath quickening and your hand faltering in its rhythm on his cock.

You’re not about to admit defeat, though.

“Don’t you want to fuck me?” you say, trying to keep the quaver out of your voice. You give his cock a few long, indulgent strokes. “We’re nearly there already. All I’d need to do is move a little closer.”

He chuckles, his hand sliding up to lightly tease your folds. “I would have made you warm my cock the whole ride back,” he says casually, like he’s commenting on the weather, “but I don’t think you could have done it without coming. You’re too sensitive.”

Your lips part like you have something to say, but all rational thought and the entirety of the English language has fled your brain and even more arousal is pooling between your legs.

Loki smirks like he knows all of this and he briefly strokes you from your entrance to your clit before withdrawing. “Ah, we’re nearly home,” he says, moving your hand away and patting your thigh before tucking himself back into his trousers. “Let’s make ourselves presentable, shall we?”

You climb off his lap and straighten your dress, but don’t even bother trying to fix your hair or makeup. You stumble out of the car a minute later, hoping that you don’t look like you’ve spent the entire evening poised on the brink of orgasm.

Loki, of course, is annoyingly put together. He wraps an arm around your waist and leads you forward.

“Oh, the things I’m going to do to you when we get to our rooms,” he says under his breath as you make your way into the foyer.

“That had better be a promise,” you say.

“I thought we established that I’m the one who gives you orders—”

“We established nothing—”

One of his advisors—Sigurd, the same one who spoke to you in the hotel when he found you—is approaching Loki at a brisk clip.

“Your majesty—”

Loki barely takes his eyes off of you. “Later,” he says, waving a hand in Sigurd’s direction.

“Sire, it’s urgent.”

Your heart sinks. Loki stops and turns to Sigurd, eyes sharp, mouth pulled into a firm line. “It had better be.”

Despite the intensity of Loki’s expression, Sigurd looks unbothered and remarkably calm. “We received new intelligence on the matter you inquired about earlier, your majesty.”

Loki’s expression darkens and you realize with a sinking sensation that he has to go deal with whatever this is. “A moment,” he says to Sigurd before turning to you.

He lowers his voice so that only you can hear him. “Go to our rooms,” he murmurs. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

You nod and he leans in, brushing his lips against your temple. “Be good for me.”

A thrill runs through you.

By the time you get back to your rooms, though, you’re a little annoyed. He’s been teasing you for hours and when you finally get home, he suddenly has another work thing?

It would almost be funny if it wasn’t so frustrating.

Though admittedly, he did look pretty surprised and annoyed by Sigurd’s sudden appearance. It’s probably not fair to blame him for that.

Probably.

You take your time getting undressed, mainly in the hope that it will somehow hasten his return or trick you into thinking time is passing quickly. Not that you’re looking forward to him returning for any reason other than sex. You still hate him—you just really need him to fuck you. That’s all it is.

You hesitate for a long time over the collection of silk nightgowns in your wardrobe. Should you put something on? Should you just wait naked on the bed? A silky green number catches your eye. He’d probably like that. He’s pretty predictable when it comes to that sort of thing—put on his colors and he goes feral. With any luck you won’t be wearing it for very long, but you might as well do what you can to facilitate that outcome.

You contemplate underwear and decide there’s little point, given that tonight’s set is still tucked into his pocket.

You situate yourself in the middle of your bed and try not to think about your throbbing cunt. It would be so easy to get yourself off, but you know that it won’t be as good.

You need him.

You try to ignore the thought. It’s just physical. That’s all it is. You’re on edge from being teased all evening. It doesn’t mean anything.

You wait.

It’s late when you finally hear the door click open, followed by the tap of his dress shoes on the floor.

You sit up in bed, your eyes roving greedily over him. His suit jacket is gone and his tie is draped around his neck, shirtsleeves rolled up. You are loath to admit it, but it’s incredibly hot.

Before you can even get any words out, he’s striding across the room, eyes hungrier than you’ve ever seen them. His clothes disappear the second he hits the bed, followed swiftly by your nightgown. Seconds later, he’s on top of you, mouth seeking yours, cock pressing insistently against your stomach. Your hands are just as greedy, skimming up his back and combing through his hair.

“Have you been good for me?” he murmurs as he nudges your thighs apart.

“Yes.”

“Did you touch yourself?” he asks, his voice stern.

“No,” you say.

He knows you’re not lying and the hungry smile he gives you almost makes it all feel worth it. “Good girl,” he growls. “Do you want me to fuck you now?”

“Yes,” you say breathlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he drags his cock through your slickness. “Please.”

He chuckles as he lines himself up at your entrance. “I know, darling, I’m going to take such good care of you.”

Your cunt is so slick and sensitive from his hours of teasing that just the act of him sliding inside of you feels like you’ve reached your own personal nirvana.

“Oh, fuck.” Your voice comes out in a whimper and your legs tighten around his waist to hold him in place because he feels so overwhelmingly good.

Loki lets out a low groan as he eases inside you, catching his lower lip between his teeth as his brow furrows. “Perfect.” He leans in to kiss you as he starts to move. His first thrust is slow but even so, it draws a whimper from your throat. He’s always felt good, but this is transcendent.

“Oh god, please don’t stop,” you gasp.

“I won’t, my love.” His voice is tender as he moves with an aching, slow precision. “Not until you’ve had your fill.”

For the first time this evening, you let down your guard. Every time he’s touched you tonight—even before the gala in the limo—you’ve had to hold back to some degree. You haven’t been able to give into it, to let yourself be completely unbound and unguarded. But now when he’s moving inside of you, you have the freedom to just be and feel and it’s exquisite. Every thrust of his hips, every reverent caress of his hands, every sigh or groan is an opportunity to discover a new kind of heaven.

“You were magnificent tonight,” he murmurs, sliding his hand between your bodies to rub your clit. “Even with my fingers playing with your pretty cunt under the table, you looked every inch a queen. My queen.”

He’s never talked to you like this before and it makes your body sing. You arch, rolling your hips with him as the building wave inside you rises impossibly high, as though every orgasm you almost had this evening is starting to arrive all at once. The tension in your hips is equally fantastic and unbearable, a supernova of sensation that may destroy and remake you all at once.

“Filthy girl, I can tell you’re getting close,” he purrs, tilting his hips so he hits the spot that makes you tremble. “You act so prim and proper in public, but it takes so very little to turn you into my perfect little slut when I get you alone.”

You are approaching the peak, the whirling center of the storm building inside you. “Loki—please, I can’t, I’m gonna—”

“That’s it, darling. Soak my cock like a good girl.”

You always come the hardest when he’s inside you and this is no exception. The pressure in your hips is suddenly and spectacularly ablaze with a shimmering euphoria that draws a raw and primal moan deep from inside your chest. You are a fountain of sparks, all the tension and desire of the evening finally reaching its apex. You have yearned for this all night and the resulting blaze is spectacular.

His pace is still slow, but Loki’s eyes are wild and you get the sense that his composure is hanging by a thread. Though his eyes occasionally flutter shut as your cunt convulses around him, his gaze is locked on you in a kind of wonder.

“Do you have any idea how good you feel when you come on my cock?” he rasps.

Even in the throes of utter bliss, you need to hear his voice. “Tell me.”

“I would create entire worlds and walk through the fires of their destruction just to feel you come.”

You shudder out a sigh. “More.”

He picks up his pace just slightly. “I would flatten mountains and raise valleys and reverse the currents.”

“More.”

He’s hitting that aching spot inside you again and the rolling tremors of the aftershocks are starting to coalesce into another building wave. You moan and his hand moves back to your clit, slick fingers pressing and rolling in just the way you need.

His eyes shine, bright with lust as his hips and fingers work diligently to unravel you again. “I would take down the stars and bring the heavens to the earth…”

His words are making you dizzy and his movements are coaxing the pressure inside of you into a cyclone that you know is going to take you down.

“Loki, please.” These are the only words you know because your entire world is him moving inside of you, inevitable as the sunrise, the architect of the heavenly destruction and renewal that is building and building in your hips.

He shifts so his weight is entirely on his elbows, bringing his lips up against your ear so you don’t miss a single word. “I would lay my crown at your feet and forsake my name…just to feel you come on my cock.”

The coil in your hips snaps and unfurls into a starry, sparkling oblivion that has you crying out his name over and over like he’s your ending and beginning, the center of your universe. Your eyes are shut against the onslaught of intense sensation, but you can feel him reaching the blissful height he’d been speaking of. He groans and slurs out a few incoherent oaths before succumbing to you and filling your pulsing cunt with his hot release.

His mouth is on yours and he’s kissing you like he means it as he slows to a halt. You lie together for a long moment, hearts beating wildly against each other.

This felt different than other times. There was an intensity there that had nothing to do with the sex. You don’t know what that means, other than it’s definitely not any kind of feelings for him. It must be something else. You’re certain it’s something else.

“I didn’t realize I’d be called away upon our return.”

You’re so distracted by your thoughts that the sound of his voice startles you slightly.

“Oh, um, yeah, I figured…it seemed unexpected,” you say.

He lifts his head to look at you, green eyes intent. “Trust that there are very few things that could have pulled me away from you in that moment.”

He’s being sincere. It’s not what you expect and that scares you a little, though you can’t quite articulate why. The idea that he would care whether you thought he’d intentionally extended your wait hadn’t even occurred to you. You don’t really know this side of him.

“So, it wasn’t like…making a proclamation designating June National Peanut Butter Month.” You know you’re deflecting, but you don’t know what else to do.

He frowns. “That can’t possibly be a real thing.”

You shrug. “It might be. Lots of governments do stuff like that. Maybe you should consider it.”

His smile is slight, but brief as he stretches and slowly eases out of you. “I will leave that to others.”

There’s a beat of quiet and you suddenly find yourself desperate to fill the silence. “What did they need to talk to you about?”

He looks at you sharply and you wonder if this was the wrong thing to say. Loath as you are to admit it, this conversation has fostered a flicker of warmth between you, a fact you only notice now because of its sudden absence.

“It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with,” he says as he rolls off of you. It’s not unkind, but it’s also not warm, and the discussion is clearly closed.

Part of you mourns the loss of that little spark of closeness, but a larger, louder part is intent on pretending it never existed in the first place.

“Suit yourself.”

You’re annoyed and you roll off the bed and go about your evening routine with a little more clattering and stomping than is strictly necessary. There’s a lump in your throat that you don’t understand and you’re full of feelings you can’t define. You eventually settle on the bed with your back facing him, glaring at the wall like he can see you.

But then he reaches for you in the darkness, his arms winding around your waist, nose nuzzling against the nape of your neck as he pulls you to his chest. And instead of reading him the riot act, you let him hold you and let yourself relax into his embrace, fingers twining around his. You sleep better like this, you tell yourself. That’s the only reason you’re allowing it. It’s nothing to do with him.

You’ve told yourself that every night since your wedding and every night, it gets a little more difficult to believe.

Next chapter coming soon

#loki smut #loki x reader smut #loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki laufeyson smut #loki x female reader smut #loki fanfiction #conquer

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lizdive · 4 months ago

Note

saw ur inbox is open so i jumped right into the opportunity 🤭 just recently discovered ur blog and AUGH i love your writing!! the lack of platonic stuff is a CRIME.. 💔

could i request something with aventurine being an older (adoptive) brother to teen reader? if you want some extra lore, the ipc basically found the reader and wanted to use their powers for themselves cuz theyre like- crazy op- 😭 (reincarnation of an aeon typa shit) so they placed the reader into aventurine's care bcuz he was the only person they weren't hostile towards-

SORRY THIS GOT A LITTLE LONG ?! you don't need to use the extra lore if you dont want to btw! i just put it there :3

can be either hcs or a oneshot/drabble, u can choose!! >_<

please and thank u!!!! (ゝω・´★)

YOU’RE SO SWEET YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH THIS MEANS TO ME ILUSM ☹️🩷🤍 Aventurine is my everything I love when people send me reqs about him he’s never left my team since I’ve gotten him 😭 ALSO I LOVE THE EXTRA LORE I LOVE UR BRAIN LEMME KISS IT MWAH 💋 tysm for requesting <33 if you’re unsatisfied just tell me and i’ll redo this 🫶

notes 𐙚 gender-neutral reader — "you" + "they/them" used to refer to the reader ,, reader is a teenager but is implied to be ancient ,, reader is implied to be a part of tayzzyronth — aeon of the propagation — and can be up for interpretation, however they do have swarm abilities ,, i did some research on tayzzyronth however there may be things that are not accurate or do not align with canon as tayzzyronth and the swarm is very confusing ,, reader grows a hatred for qlipoth — aeon of the preservation and their followers aka the ipc ,, platonic relationships ,, ipc activities as usual ,, penacony mission at the end ,, i feel like i derived from og request i’m sososo sorry ,, ending is cringe ngl ,, this is not proofread so ignore typos

Bugs, insects, flies — you do not know what these creatures are referred to as. You do not know of their origin, and you do not know if you are one of them taking a different form. They treat you as if you are one of them and protect you like you are their ruler.

The planet you reside on is dark. There is no other being except for these creatures that swarm you like you are their creator and their savior. You rarely move. Your cheek has grown accustomed to the cracked grounds of this wasteland as you slumber for periods of time you know not the length of. It is gray, yet you sometimes spot the colorful liquid that leaves their bodies as they succumb to the eternal slumber you sometimes seek.

There is no coldness and there is no hotness — you are always warm. They blanket you with their wings and speak to you in a language you have learned to understand.

"The followers of Qlipoth are coming!" they would say, and yet you did not know who they spoke of. The concept of beings existing that are not you or the insects that flutter about bringing you sustenance and company is foreign, and your young mind cannot comprehend it without physical proof. You assume they jest as they always do to try and humor you, and so you do not acknowledge their warnings.

"The followers of Qlipoth have come, you must leave!" And yet you chose to remain on the cracked grounds that have filled your sight for the many years you have lived. You chose to remain under their wings which shielded you as they fought against Qlipoth’s devout to keep them away from your form.

They are weak, you convince yourself, as you hear the shrieks of your swarm. They are weak, you convince yourself, as you hear the loud explosions which cause the frail floors to crack more and more. They are weak, you convince yourself, as you hold a baby bug in your arms like a toy to sooth the bubbling feeling of fear which is so foreign to you.

They are not weak, you realize, as you feel their hands pull at you from beneath the pile of dead creatures, doing their best to fight off the hallucinations from their wings.

These people — the followers of Qlipoth — are enemies. They do not deserve what the insects would call 'mercy'. The chains which cling to some of your joints barely hold you back as you scream at them in what sounds to them like gibberish. Your body is weak from the lack of movement, yet what you consider weakness is considered as strength that was once unattainable to them.

"If I didn’t know of the swarm I’d assume they were an abomination of the abundance," a woman speaks, yet her words mean nothing to you for you cannot understand them. You do not know who spoke, and you do not care. They are all enemies, and this 'Qlipoth' that they follow will be struck down by your own hands one day. They follow this being and therefor this being is the one to order them to do such horrendous acts.

You make an attempt to flutter the thin wings that decorate your back but they feel heavy. You look back and find them to be hidden away and chained. You do not feel the pain, but perhaps it is just the adrenaline rushing through you.

"Did you really have to cover them up like that?" "The workers said that they were hallucinating, we couldn’t risk it."

A gloved hand is placed in front of you. There is nothing in it. The golden rings shine under the lighting of the room you are in. The shimmer is new to your eyes and makes you squint from the reflecting light. You are used to the dullness of your 'home' planet, so when you look up to properly face the man who seems innocent enough, you recoil at the brightness off his appearance.

The many layers of clothes he adorns makes you curious. You do not wear much, only enough to properly cover you. The insects would keep you warm. Yet he wears so much — so many layers of attire made from materials you didn’t even know existed.

Your rage and hostility is pacified with curiosity, and that makes his smile a bit more genuine. He brings a hand to your head, and you’re ready to tear him to shreds should he try anything, but he only pets you gently. It reminds you of when the insects would nudge your head whenever they wanted you to wake up.

The sense of familiarity makes your eyes water but you do not shed the tears. You don’t like how they blind your sight and you blink rapidly to make them go away. The man clad in bright colors says something, but you once again can’t understand him.

But when the suffocating chains no longer cling to your tender skin, you understand that he is safe like those that cared for you and he is trying to comfort you. It works.

The man is named Aventurine — he repeated it constantly until you finally said it, albeit with the accent of a toddler. Still, he praised you. When he smiled and pat your head, you felt happy. It was a good thing.

You follow Aventurine around. He is the only one you have familiarized yourself with. He gets frightened by the swarm that follows you, so you scold them whenever they show themselves unannounced. You do not want him to leave you — you’ve noticed it happens a lot as you are exposed to human beings. He tells you he won’t leave you, how you’re his responsibility now.

You only understand a little bit of what he speaks, but you want to learn more to get more head pats and praise. The language they use is very foreign and requires much more effort to sound out the words as well as memorizing the symbols they write with. It is a lot of effort, but Aventurine is very encouraging.

Aventurine is nice. He is patient. He is understanding. He is helpful. You have been told that the one who has given you your strength was born from loneliness, but if that was the case, them shouldn’t your abilities be gone by now? Because with Aventurine, you do not feel lonely.

You want to tell him this, and one day you will. But for now, you’ll sit in his office, dressed in the nice clothing he has bought for you, and continue to practice your speech and writing.

You do not like leaving his office, because Qlipoth’s devout will then try to talk to you. You have tried many times to send your swarm after them, and you have succeeded many times, but Aventurine always scolds you. You do not like it when he scolds you. It’s a bad thing.

He tries to get you accustomed to human society. It is hard, especially because the human society he tries to make you interact with is filled with Qlipoth’s followers, but for him, you will try.

For him, you will listen to them as they order you to send your swarm to terrorize planets littered with precious material. For him, you will listen to them as blood stains your hands — blood which is not yours. For him, you will allow others to call you a monster which he reassures you that you aren’t.

For him, you will let yourself become the tool Qlipoth’s devout want you to become.

Something you have noticed and have been taught about human society is the concept that is family. You have heard the term many times, especially on this planet called Penacony. The main heads of this big hotel are called The Family. The head of The Family is the brother of his sister. You make sure to remember that.

Aventurine tells you to keep your features hidden as well as your little swarm bug which you brought with you, and you do not protest. The hotel is big, perfect for your insect friend to flutter about freely. Your hand clings to Aventurine’s coat, a habit you have picked up on. When you cling to him, people talk to him first. You don’t know why, but you do not care because it has yet to fail you.

You do not pay attention to the woman at the front desk. She speaks too fast for you to properly comprehend her words, anyways. You take note of the people around. There is nobody adorning the familiar uniform of Qlipoth’s followers, much to your relief. You tug on Aventurine’s coat, looking at him.

He hums, and looks at you while the woman looks the both of you up to check for the reservation. "Finish?" You ask quietly. "Almost. You can sit if you want," he replies, pinching your cheek playfully. You frown and shake your head.

"Alright, It seems you both have reservations. Here are the keys for your rooms. We hope you and your younger sibling enjoy your stay in penacony." The woman smiles and slides the cards on the counter. Aventurine thanks her and motions for you to follow, which you do without hesitance.

The walk is silent, and once the two of you are in the elevator, you decide to speak once more. "We are like Sunday and Robin."

Aventurine blinks at your declaration and turns so his body is facing you, leaning on the support bars of the elevator. "Is that a statement or a question?" He asks, but you don’t directly answer his question, only explaining your words.

"I am younger sibling, you are older sibling." It is then that Aventurine realizes you had paid attention to the woman’s words, or at least her send off ones. He didn’t think much of it, it wasn’t the first time people had assumed you both as siblings. Then again, you had yet to learn the concept of family and the various titles during those encounters.

Still, Aventurine smiles, chuckling lightly as the fuzzy feeling in his chest grows. "Yeah.. You’re the younger sibling, I’m older sibling." The elevator grows silent once more as you both wait for the doors to open.

He’ll need to finish those custody papers once this mission is over.

#🪽 ☆ LIZDIVE #ᡣ𐭩 — ROBIN’S WRITING !!#ᡣ𐭩 — ROBIN’S STARS !!#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #aventurine hsr #aventurine honkai star rail #aventurine x reader #platonic relationships

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aromacaque · 3 months ago

Text

Quick S5 Analysis and Theory

I AM GOING TO RAMBLE ANALYSIS BECAUSE THEY ARE DRIVING ME CRAZY

I cannot stop thinking about the way Wukong reacts to Macaque when he goes "oh no 'gee thanks for saving me macaque!...'" cause if this were before the S5E2, he would have snapped back at him, like he always does.

We know Macaque does this solely to rile Wukong up. It's how we're introduced to his character in S1E9 and he does it throughout the series. This is why he did it here too (or at least partially), BUT WUKONG DOESN'T TAKE THE BAIT THIS TIME.

While he's obviously still reeling from seeing the memory of their fight he was forced to watch,

you can still see that, for a split second, Wukong almost does snap back, but he instantly rethinks that and decides to be passive

Macaque, again, pokes at him trying to get a reaction, but this time Wukong doesn't even think about snapping back. He simply responds casually/lightly (before then realizing that MK is in danger)

This tells us possibly two really important things

Macaque sacrificing himself in S5E2 was a turning point for Wukong's perception of him. An increase in personal trust/faith/etc.

2. Seeing the memory of their fight made him rethink his behavior toward Macaque

For the rest of the season, they don't get a lot of moments because of, well, Everything, but we see Wukong is not only more willing to show concern for his wellbeing, but also seems to be more open/emotionally vulnerable in front of him than before (in little moments, anyway).

Granted that has been building up since S4E11, arguably before that but I'm not going to deep dive analyze season 3. He's being more communicative with Macaque in S5E1 about MK too. In other words, not completely shutting him out or pushing him away, which seems like their natural progression from S4E11 as well.

All of that being said, this brings me to The Scene. Which I am completely normal about because there's so much to unpack about it and I am so normal about that. Evidently.

First of all, they wanted to hold hands during their final moments. MK and Macaque are the two most important people in Wukong's life, I feel like that speaks for itself.

BUT it's Wukong who reaches out here.

This is Wukong's first major attempt to bridge the gap between them, at least in such a direct way. In my opinion, it's almost a wordless forgiveness on top of acknowledging how Macaque has changed and improved himself, as well as his reciprocation of that behavior. He wants to fix their relationship too, just as he has seen Macaque willing to do the same.

This moment being interrupted was actually a good thing. It's a good visual reminder that, despite them both wanting to reconcile, they aren't Quite there yet. There's still a lot left unsaid between these two, most importantly Macaque's death. (I'LL GET TO THAT. HOLD THAT IN YOUR BRAIN)

For macaque, this moment has another important meaning.

AND NOW I GET TO TALK ABOUT ONE OF MY FAVORITE WRITING TOOLS HELLO PARALLELS!!!!

In S2E7 we are introduced to this shot of Wukong on a pedestal over Macaque, turning his back on him and abandoning him. This is firmly established in that episode as one of the main reasons Macaque resents Wukong.

He is also portrayed as above him, subsequently nodding at Macaque feeling inferior to him.

In S4E11, we actually watch how this dynamic destroys their friendship. It is a MAJOR reason for their falling out. Macaque feels neglected, overlooked, ignored. Promises are broken and trust is lost. To him, Wukong is selfish, self-righteous, egotistical, uncaring, etc.

Obviously we as the audience are aware Macaque has a rather skewed perception of Wukong that seems to be influenced by his projection of his own insecurities, but that is a whole other analysis for a different time.

In S5E10, this shot is paralleled. Visually demonstrating that Wukong isn't forgetting about him this time. He looks for him. Macaque is being considered in a way he had previously believed was lacking in their friendship.

Not only that, but they are on level ground. Balanced and equal.

Macaque is reluctant to reach back out. His trust in Wukong is practically non-existent, has been for a while (understandably), so it's a little hard for him, but he reciprocates because, like Wukong, he's acknowledging that he has changed. He wants to try to fix this too.

TO RECAP!

They know they both want to fix things

They can see and have acknowledged changes in their behavior on both sides

Wukong seems to be less prone to arguing back, which will most likely make Macaque less likely to try and provoke him. All in all, they will be more civil with each other and most likely argue much less.

They are being held back by things left unsaid.

WHICH LEADS ME TOO...

WHERE DOES THIS LEAD THEM IN S6?

The obvious is they need to address Macaque's death. If they don't do it in this season it's bad writing and they are dragging it out for too long. It's the obvious natural progression here.

This is where they will have an actual, long overdue constructive conversation. It is literally singlehandedly the only thing preventing them from reconciling at this point.

Now, the problem, is how this would happen. Because we all know neither of them are going to randomly apologize out of nowhere. It's gonna take something to push them into that direction. And that should be how it happens otherwise it'd most likely feel forced in the script.

WHICH BRINGS ME TO A THEORY. A GAME THEO-

I'm not going to get into the nitty-gritty details of this particular theory, but just know that I am a firm believer in the "Macaque was consumed by his own powers and that's what killed him" theory. I do think Wukong played a substantial role in his death, enough for Macaque to reasonably believe Wukong killed him, but ultimately it was less Wukong directly killing him and more indirectly causing it and not saving him.

That being said, Wukong and Macaque's relationship is a major subplot in this show with a considerable amount of focus. They have been slowly building to their inevitable mending relationship since Macaque's first episode, which means that they're going to want to reach that climax in a pivotal emotional moment. Not a random conversation smacked into an episode.

And what is going to be plot-relevant next season??

MACAQUE'S CHAOS POWERS.

S5 built up to Macaque being an established member of the group

(Also the VO here being "change can be terrifying" is absolutely foreshadowing to some degree)

Now, there's also something else I need to address. Macaque has gone out of his way 3 separate times, 4 if you count the LBD fight, to save Wukong. On the other hand, Wukong obviously cares about Macaque, but ultimately hasn't had many opportunities or reasons to try to save him specifically.

With all of those details in mind, I think Wukong will need to take direct action by either saving him/protecting him/etc. because I think it would be a high-stakes moment that inevitably kickstarts an apology/conversation between them. Maybe it's something that reminds Wukong of their fight or that macaque can die (hence the chaos powers potentially harming Macaque in some manner or maybe a potential difficulty controlling them reminds Wukong of their fight, something along these lines).

Why this route?

Macaque has regained Wukong's trust. He basically says as much in S5E2. And while it's fairly obvious with Macaque's behavior and choices that he has learned from his past mistakes and is working on his faults, he definitely needs to acknowledge his wrongdoings. However, I think that would naturally happen during any conversation they may have (or the aftermath) regarding his death and their feelings.

That leaves Wukong because he made a promise to Macaque that they’d spend eternity together and that he would protect him and their home. A promise he broke multiple times and has not made up for yet. He needs to mend that and make it right to solidly regain Macaque's trust in order to reconcile.

#lego monkie kid #shadowpeach #sun wukong #macaque

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7waystreet · 4 months ago

Text

toxic | min yoongi

synopsis — it's the night before your wedding but your ex bf yoongi reels you in for a taste of what you've been missing

genre — fluff; smut

warnings — 18+, TW! cheating, oral (f receiving), penetrative sex

word count — 2.3k+

It's the evening before what any other person in the world would most probably feel beyond excited for, not even being able to properly voice the happiness which consumes their breath. Having found that one special person completing the unsaid void in their hearts, almost everyone goes into it with the mindset of only wanting it to happen once in this lifetime. Your wedding.

But you find yourself slipping out of the family festivities early under the pretense of wanting to get a good night's rest being the bride, silently hiding back in the heavy shadows before the much anticipated ceremony tomorrow. Looking for an escape from the overwhelming burden weighing all the way down to your gut, you secretly change into a baggy set of sweats and pull your hood up, eventually cowering in the corner of the sports bar at your hotel lobby, all alone. You feel pathetic sipping on your drink late into the night hours, the urge to yell at yourself for being ungrateful for the wonderful things you've been blessed to have in your life only getting stronger as the alcohol begins spiking your bloodstream, your thoughts concluding on the fact that you're just utterly insane for somehow still not being content with your fiancé's love.

But you now find yourself wondering... is love just about being content? Or is love about experiencing every single one of those all consuming and wild emotions that drive you to the depths of craziness, but also give you that exhilarating rollercoaster ride of pleasure and thrill, than otherwise?

Your head sways sideways in painful defeat, a drunken chuckle escaping your lips as your mind drifts off to your past. Of course you'd tried the latter with nearly no success, the memories of that long term toxic relationship soon flashing before your eyes like a movie, an aching numbness sucking the life out of your body.

Despite everything that's happened, you still can't stop thinking about Yoongi.

How could you possibly forget him when he was your first? Your first kiss, which he'd ever so gently pressed into your trembling lips after he'd walked you home late at night from that house party. Your first boyfriend, the way his cheeks had turned cherry red when he'd mustered up the courage to ask you out still fresh in your mind despite it being years and years ago. He was even the person you'd lost your virginity to, the night he'd snuck in through your window to sneak into your sheets sorely rippling through your brain like a wave threatening to drown you. He was your first love, and your first heartbreak too.

"Would you like another drink, miss?" the bartender's voice drifting from somewhere up ahead rips you out of your drowse, your head nodding in acknowledgment, still hanging low under your hood, to further your wishes to deprive yourself from any sensations.

"You know, you really shouldn't be drinking so much at this hour."

Like a snake lying patiently in wait until he chooses to slither back in, Yoongi smoothly takes the seat right next to you on the high top chairs at the bar, the comment he's just made in his deep voice jolting your body into a wake state as if you'd been shocked to life with a defibrillator. You obviously don't have the courage to turn and look at his face, purely out of the fear that you'll get lost into those cunning eyes again, but you can still tell it's him from the attractive scent of his pinewood musk cologne mercilessly seeping into your senses, dangerously sucking you back into the reminiscence of falling asleep to that same smell while being snug in his arms.

"How did you even find me here?"

"I can spot my own sweatshirt easily, even from a mile away."

Your face streaks hotter as your eyes quietly drift down to really observe the black FG hoodie you'd inattentively thrown on earlier, not even thinking twice about how it'd actually belonged to Yoongi when you'd stolen it from him back in the day when you two were still dating, a right of passage for any girlfriend in the case, of course.

"Still mad I never gave it back to you?"

"Nah, it looks way better on you than it ever did on me" you can hear a slight sigh in his upbeat voice, his tone of speech quite easy to decipher, and you'd understood perfectly well Yoongi had indeed grinned to himself while speaking those words.

A smile curls up on the already loosening muscles of your face, your swerving mind fully malfunctioning and finally ordering your head to turn in his direction, just in time to catch Yoongi flash his endearing gummy smile, a heart warming sight you hadn't been graced with for ages. A heart wrenching sight you've no doubt missed.

"What do you want Yoongi?"

"Nothing. I'm just here to check up on you and make sure you're ok before, you know, the big day."

A hint of spitefulness no doubt lingers in his fake act of sounding perfectly unaffected by it all, even the true master of disguise failing miserably to hide his strained feelings about the reality you're both trapped in at that given moment.

"Hah. How sincere of you... Where the hell were you when I really needed you?"

His entire demeanor tenses up to a rock when your unexpected words pierce him like shards of glass, his thinned lips pressing on each other while his saddened eyes peer into your glistening ones, his mind clearly thinking his thoughts through in a flash for a few brief moments before saying something he'd later end up regretting.

"We've talked about this. You really wanna go there again?"

With a whip of frustration, you veer your gaze away from him in a swipe, your elbows digging into the bar top at once, your bare face now buried rigidly in your palms. Your eyes remain tightly shut, stars beginning to sparkle in your dusky vision from your eyeballs being intensely pressured into your hands, your breathing certainly shaky as you try hard not to blow your head off in the anger that's surging through your chest.

"Hey look at me" Yoongi's hand softly twists up around your wrist and tugs at you, the feeling of his palm touching your skin like a sharp burn.

"And do what?! Stop trying to be nice now... it's too late! You fucked everything up!"

It's true. Yoongi's scorching love always came at a conditional price, not any of that unconditional shit you see everywhere in the movies and dramas. You'd done everything you could to support him in his difficult venture of establishing himself as a music producer in this tough industry, selflessly spending countless hours with him in the studio for moral support, sacrificing your own health and pushing your own dreams aside to fully be there for him.

But what did he even do for you? Slap a bandaid over your hurt by buying you the most expensive and exquisite gifts with the flowing cash in his bank account, without ever prioritizing you when you really needed him to be there. All you had asked was for him to really invest some time to strengthen your relationship, but the constant neglect because of his rising career became the last nail in the coffin, finally breaking off your trust in him for never being a dependable partner.

"You know I was trying to make money. For our future together. To make sure we were financially stable and secure."

"How happy is that money making you now with having to see me get married to him?"

"And how much happier are you with him than you were with me?"

The icy cold silence that follows forces you both to freeze up, exasperated eyes locked into one another as you silently sit there with a breathless shake, shocked by the sudden direct questions you'd thrown onto each other. But you both seemingly know the answers to those no matter how wretchedly wrong they seem, perfectly understanding each other without even a need for words.

Yoongi's hand gradually moves up from your wrist, quietly loosening up your clenched fist and sliding his palm along yours, his pretty fingers intertwining with yours before he lightly squeezes your hand.

"Come with me."

It's like a fatal poison, his raspy voice, the sweetness of it brutally addicting, and you're sure it's only going to consume you in the end. Your brain keeps saying no but you're still unable to escape him, your feet now following along his as if they have a mind of their own.

You're not quite sure if you're using your hood to hide your shame or just your face as you enter the elevator with Yoongi, hand in hand, not daring to look up or making eye contact with anyone in case someone from your family spots you, Yoongi's feet eventually guiding you over to his hotel room. Your heart feels like it's going to give out when he closes the door after you've both entered the four walls of security, guaranteeing your privacy, your stomach setting on fire, when he gently pushes your back against the door.

Yoongi's hands skim over your curves, his grip finally firming around your waist right as your mind goes blank, his face slowly pushing in closer until you can feel his breath on your nose, your quivering lips instantly pressing back into his when he impatiently kisses you. Even after all of these years of not being intimate with him, you both seem to find your rhythm as if your bodies were hardwired into it, his chest rubbing into yours as the kissing heats up in no time. Yoongi gently sucks on your tongue, still remembering just how much of a turn on it is for you, unexpectedly taking a pause and moving back from your lips with a big smooching sound.

"Are you still on birth control?"

Your nod of reassurance calms down the visible anxiousness stirring on his face, one of his arms dipping straight underneath your thighs while the other supports your back, being held up in his arms making your heart skip a beat, all while he walks you over to the white linen sheets on the fluffy hotel bed. Yoongi ceremoniously throws you on top of the mattress, a gasp leaving your mouth as your body bounces from the motion, your tense gaze taking in the sight of him standing there untying your shoes for you, his eyes firmly fixed on your face as he does it, not wanting to miss capturing even a second of emotion he's making you feel. He swiftly throws your shoes away behind him, the pair loudly smacking the wall in the hotel room before he slowly leans forward and begins undressing you from your sweats, tossing everything away messily onto the floor, eventually leaving you naked and shivering in bed right in front of him.

And just like that, he's already on his knees for you, his head tucked in between your legs despite his eyes rooted on you, his mouth swishing in a quick motion to drip out his spit onto your folds right before his tongue slowly glides it around to get to wet. He way he flicks on your clit with the tip makes your toes curl up in excitement, the familiar sound of him moaning at the sight of your pleasure prickling up your back in painful goosebumps. He doesn't hesitate to jam his tongue in your hole and place open mouthed kisses on your clit, the motion upping your heart palpitations at once, forcing you to run out of breath and tense up in your place.

"Fuck. I missed the taste of your pussy."

There's absolutely no thoughts running in your mind now except for what your eyes are visually processing, Yoongi edging you on to only pull his mouth away to make you wait just a little bit longer, his legs rising back up to his feet before he starts taking his clothes off one by one, giving you enough time to ogle at every inch of his naked figure in front of you, the vision of his slim stunning body forming a deep knot in your chest.

He's already spun you around and made you get on all fours, now cutting you off from observing the way he looks, only allowing your senses to experience how his body makes you feel being pressed up against your back. His thick cock angles towards your heat, and the way he teases you by rubbing it along your folds for him to meet with your dripping wetness drives you fucking insane. Without any warning, he tightly enters your heat with a slam while you both close your eyes in unison, diving deep into the nostalgic comfort which had imprinted straight onto your souls.

You knew Yoongi loved hitting it from the back because he always liked seeing your ass jiggle from the action, and he gets to live his dream one last time before you become someone else's, the palm of his hand spanking your buttcheeks for the full effect, leaving a red hand print as if to mark you as his in wild desire. Your face scrunches up and teeth bite into the pillow as he spanks hard another time, his cock ramming in and out of you with full speed, just how you like it though. Rough sex with him got you off like no other, the way he mastered the understanding of the fine line between real pain and pleasure a turn on in itself, and he knows just how much you admire that, his nails now digging into your ass and pulling you even closer to thrust even further in to hit your g-spot.

You can't help but clench around his length in no time, a growl escaping his mouth when he feels your walls tightening up around him, the moans that follow furthering both of your pleasure as the friction finally pushes the two of you over the edge. His cum mixed with yours slips out of your heat as he pulls his cock out, flopping down on the bed next to you in a breathless state, your own body still experiencing the waves of your orgasm as if it didn't want to ever stop feeling it.

"Don't marry him, (y/n). Let's try to make this work. I'll do better."

#yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #yoongi fic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi oneshot #min yoongi #suga x reader #suga smut #suga fic #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts smut #방탄소년단 #7waystreet

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forsworned · 7 months ago

Note

That Keegan post you made had me clutching my PEARLS! Your use of words was so masterfully done! I really loved the new vocab I learned while reading your work.

Your depiction of the relationship was also so so nice. Very loving and attentive and just so sweet. I could tell they loved one another and had already established boundaries that they knew they shouldn’t cross. The ending was lovely as well, a great way to tie things up.

Thank you for writing it! I’m excited to see what else your lovely brain comes up with!

-🧢

Whispers in the Woods: A Stranger's Shelter ft. OfftheGridCowboy!Keegan Russ

Sypnosis: When Keegan finds you petrified, running for your life from creatures unknown to you in the Haunted Appalachia trails after sundown, he takes you in for the night. Things get a bit crazy...

Warning(s): Mentions of Sexual Content, Violence, Petnames (?), Blood, Supernatural Horror (?), Eventual Smut, Barely Proofread, Reader is 28 and Keegan is 30, Reader is also AFAB

Word Count: 7.5k (enjoy keegan lovers ;)

Author's note: Blue cap anon thank you so much for inspiring me to write for Keegan. Honestly, I really love how this fic turned out and I hope you do too. I am so sorry I took so long to reply to you but you seriously warmed my heart so sosososo much when I read your message. I did not mean to put you on the back burner for this long/ Just know I have put so much effort into this to provide you a solid work so I hope that is a good enough excuse to have such a delayed response. Also so glad that you learned some new words LOL that really tickles me tbh, but I want to work more with the relationship that reader builds with Keegan in general or with any character x reader I write. So please enjoy this :)

edit: i think it's lowkey not living up to my expectations but ummm fuck it we ball

Sparks fly as the firewood in the pit crackles, casting an orange ember over you and the stranger sitting in front of you. His eyes, reminiscent of the cool, blueness of winter are lingering on you, and his heavy, leather jacket drapes over your shoulders to shield you from the chilliness of the early April evening. With his black cowboy hat slightly tilted upward, you note the black bandana covering most of his face, adding an air of mystery to his appearance.

"You really shouldn't be out here." His voice edges a precarious tone, though you cannot determine if it's toward you or whatever lurks in the abysmal woods. Maybe it was both. Your fingers curl around the distressed tanned hide, fiddling with the stitching of the material. A shudder careens through the columns of your spine, goosebumps trail over your skin, and the fuzz across your neck rises briefly.

"Don't look. Don't even acknowledge it." He instructs, steadying his gaze on you as he tinkers with the butterfly knife in his gloved hand. "W-what?" You gasp out, eyes reaming as your quivering vision sets on the embers of the pyre. A sinister presence harks over your convulsing body, heart palpitating out of your tightening sternum. But as soon as it arrives it departs and you're left heaving for the oxygen that was stripped from your lungs.

"I'm not gonna ask you again, what are you doin' walkin' around aimlessly in these mountains?" He repeatedly latches and unlatches the metal object in his hands, his gaze fixates on you. Truthfully, you were lost. When the engine of the old Dodge that you inherited from your grandfather abruptly cut out as you passed through a dead zone, it was all hauling ass from there on out. Classic damsel in distress situation.

Your father and he had both warned you about the Appalachian mountains. How apex predators inhabited the woods, preying on the innocent, ripping flesh apart on sight, or disappearing into the ghastly woods to never return. But, of course, you wrote it off as fearmongering. Never had you experienced the soul-crushing, harrowing existence of unidentified, cryptids lurking within the lacunas of the evergreens.

"My truck it—" You start to say, but the sound of him exhaling loudly cuts you off and you glance up at him with misery strewn across your features. Doe-eyes glimmering from the wetness that was welling in your oculars as your lips tremble. He outstretches his arm to the lantern on the perched log, "I've heard enough."

He begins to get up, extinguishing the flame, smothering it with what seemed to be a bag of salt and you felt fear creeping back into your system.

"Come on." As the pyre's embers fade, the lantern's switch emits a squeak, coaxing the oil flame to life, while the blood-curdling shrieks send shivers down your spine, ringing in your ears. And as if on cue, you cling to his side and he lets out a soft huff, feeling your arm coil around his.

The inferno acts as a bulwark from whatever is skulking around the both of you in the obscurity of the night as you move through the forest. You catch glimpses of shadows trekking about, seemingly running away from you now. A stark contrast from the previous frantic sprint through the woods in your petite, white frilly prairie dress that was now tattered at the edges and puffy sleeves. Now, you were safe. At least you certainly hope so.

A tiny light enters your line of sight in the distance, and you can only assume that that is his home. But you were still heeding the noises and images being molded in front of human eyes. It was as if the veil was lifted here, a supernatural existence in the vast mountains and woods of the Appalachia. You don't know whether to be terrified or fascinated, but you keep quiet as he silently leads you down the desire path to his home that is etching itself a little more into the horizon.

Approaching the home, you begin to notice the clandestine features of the house. A zephyr sweeps past you and the distinct smell of lavender and sage gently brims into your senses. You visibly shudder as the steps creak under your weight, your arm remains tucked into his own as he fishes out his keys and unlocks the door. Like a gentleman, he gestures to allow you in first and he follows closely behind, shutting it behind him.

"Shoes off at the door." He directs, treading past you as he tosses another piece of firewood into the lit fireplace.

What the fuck?

Is he just not going to acknowledge the paranormal manifestation that incurred upon them just now? The shadows of unearthly skinwalkers who infest the woods, who are prowling out there now as they barricade themselves from the outside? What is stopping them from forcefully intruding into his home?

You finally catch your breath for a moment, still feeling your heart hammering against your chest before you speak. "Are we not going to talk about what we just saw?"

"Nope." He simply replies, from another room and you blink back in surprise. Then it sinks in.

Of course, how could you forget? How can you forget the rules of the Appalachia, that were engrained into you as a child?

If you see something strange in the wilderness, no, you didn't.

If you hear something call your name, no, you didn't.

If you hear screaming in the Appalachian mountains, especially a woman's scream, no, you didn't.

If you feel something stalking you, do not run.

Never, ever, whistle at night.

Never go into the woods at night.

Never leave your windows open at night, even in the summer and honestly, the list dragged on and on and on.

Most of it falls on deaf ears never believing in the legends, and yet, here you are shaken up by things you never thought existed in a stranger's home who found it in his heart to shelter you until what you suppose would be dawn.

A wavering breath escapes you as you take a long gander at the well-maintained colonial home. The timeless and heirloom quality of the home becomes evident upon analyzing the vast array of paintings and framed photographs adorning the walls, each depicting individuals with strikingly similar features—dark brows, thick lashes, and mesmerizing steely blue eyes that seemed to penetrate your soul. You can't quite make out the framed artwork through your muzzy vision, but it's eerie the way you can't quite pinpoint why the face was so recognizable to you.

Exposed wooden ceiling beams motion your eyes to the inherited items and the mounted deer skull above the hearth. The warmth emanating from it felt different, soothing, lulling your quivery limbs. You oblige and kick off your boots, padding behind him as he draws out his gun from his holster and places it on the mahogany table. He removes his cowboy hat, hanging it on the horseshoe hat rack adjacent to the fireplace revealing his tousled short black locks. As he begins to unmask himself, a small gasp leaves your lips, fixating on his newly exposed features. And he was goddamn handsome and unusually reminiscent of someone from your childhood embarked into the backlogs of your memory, but of course, you brush it off.

And although he hears it, he does not acknowledge it as one hand grips the wooden chair and the other runs over his dark stubble. He's pensive. The last thing he needed was some heretic woman living under his roof for Lord knows how long. At this point, he decides that you are his responsibility and he cannot shirk from that for that would be unbecoming of a man like himself and he was raised better than that.

He glances up at the painting of his father above the hearth and you take note of the reflective state. His daddy was the embodiment of a Cowboy. Gentlemanly, charming, nifty, and always genial, providing the best hospitality a person could provide. No way, he'd accept Keegan kicking you to the curb, leaving you out for those creatures to rip you apart. Plus, his father would simply rise from his grave and kick his ass.

"You hungry?" He pays no mind to your lingering, bewitched eyes as he moves to the kitchen and you like a lost puppy trailing behind him. "Got some leftover potato leek soup."

And as if on cue, your stomach growls and he glances at your hand over your tummy. You flush from the embarrassment of your stomach being that raucous. He cocks a brow at you and you can't tell if he's amused or annoyed. Probably both. "Go sit." He points his chin to the table by the fireplace and you pad back to the living room, the tempering sensation of the flames causes you to become drowsy. You loll your head to analyze his stature. His figure towers over all of the antique appliances in the kitchen, muscles flexing as he prepares to reheat the soup on the stove. Rolling up his sleeves to reveal his taut, tanned forearms to open the cabinet and pull out the loaf of handmade sourdough, slicing it evenly and efficiently before tossing it in the toaster.

His form becomes a bit hazy as you lay your head against the top rail of the chair, mesmerized by the allure of his broadened shoulders, and soft pink lips that all by hide the peeking tongue indicating his concentration in preparing you a homecooked meal. Keegan never has guests over, in fact, no one is ever daft enough to come running around this way anyways because locals know better and tourists are too scared shitless to even enter this part of the Appalachia. He likes it like that, away from everything and everyone, being able to maintain his family's ranch that was inherited by him at the ripening age of 18.

His mother moved out to the suburbs because the death of his father was far too devasting on her already weary soul to continue living her days out on the farm. But Keegan doesn't mind it. He handles the livestock with ease, providing care to the birthing cattle, and maintaining the operations of the facilities as a whole to keep his honest living thriving. It's all in a good day's work for him. So caring after you shouldn't be too much of a hassle right?

You're suddenly awoken to the soft clatter of the bowl being set on the wooden table, the savory aroma of potato leek soup, and freshly toasted sourdough bread. He sets a glass of water beside you before he pulls his seat adjacent to you with his food.

"Eat." He orders, waiting for you to take a spoonful of thick soup. You hesitantly lift the spoon before glancing up at him. He blinks back at you, realizing the weight of his indiscretion, and whisks the soup with his spoon before noshing on it as if to tell you that is not poisoned nor drugged. Your other hand takes the bread in between your fingers and he mirrors your actions, claiming a bite from his own and you visibly relax.

The soup is scalding to the touch, but you welcome the sensation when you get a taste of the heavenly whipped soup. Not a single lump, just the smoothest, most savory supping of such a simple hearty soup instantly heartening your disconcerting body right down to your unsteady hand.

"I'll fix your truck as soon as dawn breaks." He flashes a glance before breaking his bread and scooping it into his soup. "Make yourself comfortable in the guest bedroom." He gestures with his hand to the upstairs.

"Oh, I couldn't—" You begin to say, but he will have none of it.

"You're not going out there until the sun's out." He replies simply, as he lifts his glass of water and sips from it. You observe the way his Adam's apple oscillates under his stubbly throat and you swallow thickly when you realize he's gazing at you keenly.

Warmth spreads to your cheeks and your eyes are now following the pattern of the wood grain. "That's…very kind of you."

"'s just the human thing to do." And there is an emphasis on the word 'human'.

You begin to play with your soup, scooping it up and letting it fall back into the bowl. "Right." Your voice is soft as you try to block out the memory just moments ago.

He narrows his eyes as if to study you. "What's your name?"

You glance up at him, and you're almost a bit hesitant to tell him. You almost want to lie, but you decide otherwise. "[Name], and yours?"

"Keegan."

"Keegan what?" You press. He raises a brow at you as he chews on his bread.

"Russ."

Russ. An esteemed surname that was echoed throughout your household during your adolescence. Presley Russ was a handsome and genial man who appeared at your father's porch steps every so often, tipping his hat at you with that charming smile and those glacial hues that made your heart jump. He'd invite your daddy out for nights at the rodeo or sipping on Highland Gaelic Ales on the porch from the afternoon til midnight, biding his time between Maryland and North Carolina.

You never quite caught glimpses of his son when you were living out on the ranch before you moved out for college, but you did remember a time when you ventured out past sunset in the abandoned village in the Black Hills you knew better than to be in when your daddy had to travel to Wheaton for the grand opening of his old buddy, Presley's restaurant accompanied by his reclusive son who you never remembered the name of. But for God's sake, who was stupid enough to go treading alone around the same location as the filming of the Blair Witch Project?

But you were a skeptic at best until you heard the unrelenting repetition of your name being called which led you astray, causing you to stumble over your own feet and ultimately collide with a rock that rendered you unconscious. Soon enough, you felt yourself being carried back to your home in the arms of the Russ boy with the hardened steely gaze that intently stared down at the knot forming on your forehead. You had never shut your eyes so quickly and the sound of his soft chuckle, caused you to be even more embarrassed as you were being handed off to your worried parents who were more than relieved and thankful to have retrieved you.

Of course, you had to act like you were unconscious. It was already humiliating enough that you were old enough to know better, but being ferried by a cute boy like you were some helpless damsel in distress was just mortifying.

But that was long forgotten by you in hazy summer days during your teen years before you went off to college and moved out into the city. In reality, you had written it off as a dream, a hallucination concocted by that vivid and graphic imagination of yours. That was always the case with you and the Appalachia. Always the non-believer.

But part of you was hoping that maybe he didn't recognize you after all this time, and yet the way he is staring you down is beginning to feel like otherwise.

"Blair." He suddenly says matter-of-factly as he taps his finger at the table and nods again. "Blair." A small toothy grin creeps on his lips before he chuckles.

Your eyes reaming as your heart drops to your stomach. "What?"

"Black Hills, you're the daughter of the farmer right up in Garrett County."

You feel the warmth blooming on your cheeks. He knew. "I—How do you remember that?"

"Knew you looked familiar." He dives back into his steaming soup. "Was tryin' to figure out where I'd seen that necklace of yours." He juts his chin, pointing to the family heirloom that kisses your clavicle. It had been passed down for generations to the women in your family as a symbol of health, wisdom and longetivity. You feel for the 20k gold pendant with lilac and sage engraved into the soft metal.

He looks as if he's stifling another snicker. "Think you pissed yourself a little when I found you unconscious."

Now that gets you real flared up. The abrupt change in mood was beginning to wrack your nerves. You sigh knowing that at the very least you were in good hands. Familiarity begins to set in as he breaks the ice, creating a more comfortable atmosphere between you two.

"I did not!" You puff your cheeks out at him and he's tickled pink by your endearing, agitated reactions.

His gleeful grin only grows to his eyes. "Now, who willing goes into the woods by themselves when they know damn well what kind of activity breeds over there, hm? Gotta death wish if you ask me, kid."

You open your mouth to say something, but it clamps shut. You don't know whether to be abashed by the way his face lights up like the stars in the heavens above, or by the fact that he remembers that you pissed yourself a little through your favorite pair of khaki parachute shorts in a known marked area where people have gone missing. The stark realization of it being a tangible memory was mussing at your trepidation towards him. But he's teasing you now and it stirs a strange kind of desire in your lower belly as you uncomfortably shift in your creaky wooden seat.

Pushing your bowl away, you avoid responding by guzzling down your water and then calmly placing it back down.

"I'd like to get ready for bed now, if you don't mind."

He jovially raises his eyebrows as he munches on the last of his bread. The smirk still curled up on the corners of his pinkened lips.

He wipes the crumbs off his hands and thumbs either side of his mouth before he gets up, gesturing to you. " 'Course not."

You stand up and politely push your chair in as you track behind him up the croaking staircase. Your body is practically heaving with every step and by the top of it, you're feeling a bit winded. Keegan decides to keep his comments to himself as he ushers you down the grandiose hallway. The walls are painted ivory, and wall sconces are tapered candles on held-up aged tin nailed into the parapet. Hardwood floors are well kept, but the small divots in between the grain quickly reveal the age.

He jingles the knob to what you suppose is the guest bedroom, but it seems to be locked. His fingers fish into his pocket and you watch as he phalanges through the set and then finally picks out the antiquated rusty skeleton key. It's honestly a bit jarring that it requires a key to fasten the door, but at this point, if you're being kept away from the monsters lurking outside you'd be happy to be his little prisoner for now.

He pushes the door and it moans open, though much to your surprise it's polished and orderly. In the middle of the room is a wooden four-poster queen-sized bed, with a princess-like sheer white canopy that surreptitiously envelops the bed. The furniture is a bit more romantic with detailed carved patterns on the bookshelves that line up against the wall to the vanity that sat adjacent to the bed. The carmine curtains that drape over the large window, easily maneuver you to the balcony, and the soft calling of your name beckons you to open it…

A sturdy hand clasps over your shoulder and you jolt as you turn to him. He's shaking his head as he towers over you and you look so goddamn feeble with those damn bambi eyes of yours shimmering in the tiny sliver of moonlight that peeks out from the window. He tears his gaze away to tread over to the window, squeezing it shut with the velcro he sewed into the fabric and reinforces the window shut.

A sharp exhale leaves his nostrils and his eyes are on you again. "I totally can see why you ended up the way you did." He glimpses over your dirtied and frayed dress, skinned, bloodstained knees, and contusions running up and down your legs. God, he makes it so easy to feel self-conscious.

He licks his lips as he hovers his hand over the knob to his right, and signals you over. You begrudgingly stride over and you're just as impressed at the bathroom. From the massive mirror above the traditional wooden undermount double sink vanity to the wine-red clawfoot freestanding bathtub. Little golden trinkets pinstripe the rosy walls with the soft warm lighting of the hanging flowery ceiling light fixtures. You squint your eyes when he adjusts the radiance to a white glow with the dimmer light switch before he opens the drawers one by one.

"Towels, robes, spare clothes, toiletries. Gimme a shout if you need anything else."

You open your mouth to say something and his eyes playfully narrow at you. "—within reason, missy."

Your bottom lip reflexively juts out. You hate to admit it, but you were quite the spoiled child. Never receiving more than a gentle chide from your parents and always silver-spooned to the nines by your grandparents. The truck was an exception. More of a parting gift from your grandfather that was left to you for the sole purpose of memorabilia scored into every inch of the tarnished vehicle. You hope that Keegan is capable of fixing it since most parts were made by discontinued distributors and they were definitely not easy to come by as they were expensive.

"Christ, spoiled rotten, weren't ya?" He ribs, nudging you a bit and you frown at him.

"Was not." You childlessly retort, but the small smile on your face betrays your feeble attempt at contempt.

Fuck, she is so cute. Keegan thinks as he assimilates your hilly yet winsome appearance. Just as cute as he remembers when he was seventeen, ignorant of the malignancy that poisoned his father's lungs.

"Not as much as your daddy spoiled you." You shoot back and cover your mouth with your hands as his brows lift in half surprise and half revelry.

"Blair's got jokes now, huh?" The elicitive nickname indicative of your former years sends another rushing warmth to your face and you begin to shoo him out.

"I'd really like to be clean now, thank you." You cast a scowl his way and he's putting his hands up in surrender as he backs out of the bathroom followed by the bedroom.

"I take it that the lady needs her privacy now." He leans against the doorframe with his hands stuffed into his denim jean pockets that are dusty and darkened with wood ash and the smell of the campfire lingers on his skin.

"And her beauty sleep." You add on, folding your arms. His jacket is still resting over your shoulders and he chuckles at your Hello Kitty print socks. The way your hair was mussed up in the soft glow of the lantern lamp on the night table was starting to arouse him a bit.

Fuckkkkkk, you were so adorable. It might have taken every atom in his body not to bend you over the mattress and spank you for being such a dotty woman before pressing his cock past your velvety folds as he makes you apologize in the form of incoherent, dirty little whimpers.

But the thought is quickly dismissed as it's formed in the sullied cogitations of his mind.

"Good night, [name]." He murmurs in his husky voice yet there is a hint of mischief in his tone that sends a frisson up your spinal column.

"Good night, Keegan." You susurrate, as you slowly shut the door and his expression remains the same as your view of him narrows until it disappears behind the threshold.

"Christ." You mutter to yourself as you begin to get ready for bed, as you feel the rush of collywobbles in your stomach start to well up a craving for the cowboy. The time on your cracked phone screen reads 2:03 AM and a wave of exhaustion crashes over you at the realization. Had you really been out there for seven hours?

The warm water soothes your aching bones and forming scabs scattered across your body as you gently exfoliate your skin. Thankfully, Keegan had enough sense to drop off a first aid kit by your door before you slipped into the bath. You weren't looking forward to the sting of the antiseptic, but you were more than grateful to be alive and have all your limbs attached. As you close your eyes and let the sudsy bath take away your worries, a coaxing voice is entrancing you. At first, it begins as a hushed lull intermingled with what sounds like your name and a bit of white noise that makes your brain all fuzzy and warm, but it becomes audible. Forming coherent luring words that resemble Keegan's deep, raspy voice.

Drown, drown, drown.

And you promptly find yourself submerging into the tub and the stillness of the water is subduing, but something is instigating you to open your eyes. You push away the thought, taking in the tranquility, settling into the comforting sensation of weightlessness. And yet, the feeling is not leaving you. You internally sigh as you move your body to the surface, but you remain dormant. Your eyes shoot open and your blood runs cold.

Above is one of the most fear-inducing creatures that you have ever laid your eyes upon holding you down on either side of your shoulders with slender claws digging into your flesh. It resembles a caribou skull with elongated antlers but its eyes were a violent vermillion that penetrates your soul. Its body was dark, rickety, and harrowing. Bones astute against the matted onyx fur and its tongue hanging out of his jaw like it was ready to devour you. Panic surges through your veins as you thrash about but it drives its talons further into your skin and you shriek out in pain. Water enters your lungs, your heart is stammering at cardiac arrest speed and you're choking out for dear life. This is it. This is how you die and the worst part about it is, you couldn't even call out for hope from the man who saved you just moments ago.

But just as you're accepting your fate, the muffled sound of a gunshot pierces through the air and within seconds the skinwalker is incapacitated and then dead. Soon enough, you're being hoisted out by Keegan's strong hands, as you cling onto him naked, wet, and heaving for oxygen.

Water expels out from your esophagus and you're trembling even harder than you were before when he found you, grasping to him and he's immediately talking you down.

"It's alright, you're okay. You're okay." He soothes, one hand tenderly caressing your soddened hair and the other is gripping your body tight as he pulls you out of the tub. He wastes no time unplugging the drain and wrapping you in a large towel to cover your naked body. In all seriousness, Keegan didn't even take a second to gander at your naked form when he was gathering you out of the tub and he makes that clear that his sole objective was to eliminate the wendigo that trespassed into your sanctuary.

He could've sworn that he had locked up every single opening in the house as he does every single night. It was like clockwork to him ever since his father had shown him the ropes to the place.

"…Kee-keegan." You splutter out as you continue to clutch onto him and your body is saturating him with water. He doesn't care though, that was the least of his worries. Your eyes are reaming and glossy as you dare to peek down at the creature that was seconds away from letting you meet your maker, but there's nothing but ash on the tiled floor.

"It was—" You begin, peering up at his harking steely eyes and his jaw tightens.

"It's gone."

"I don't understand." You shake your head, trying to make sense of what just happened, but the soft clatter of the rifle hitting the bathroom counter delineates your scattered mind. "Oh. But—"

"Get dressed." He softly prompts and you shakily let go of his t-shirt and he hands you an eggshell-colored peignoir as he averts his gaze. He's cognizant of the post-distress and panic you're in, so makes no indication of reallocating himself away from you as you slip on the fabric nor does he provide an explanation for what just occurred.

And to be honest, you didn't want to know. There was nothing more disturbing than the encounter with death in the form of a mutated caribou that leaves you shaken up. Everything just seemed too difficult to wrap your little head around, so let him take care of you.

A fresh towel is on your head, soaking up the wetness tangled into your hair and you relax at his balmy touch.

"Thank you." You mutter as your eyes are cast downward, eyeing the imbued, darkened spots on his nightshirt.

He delicately hooks his index finger and thumb between your chin and lifts it upward as he dabs at your features with the towel. And then it lingers. His intense yet pensive gaze, his stout calloused thumb that is now brushing against your jaw shortly followed by your quivering bottom lip. His jaw ticks.

"I'll sleep in here tonight."

Your heart jumps rampantly against your chest. "What?"

"You almost died if it weren't for me."

"Yes, but it's not—!" You fall short of words yet again and you're tearing your gaze away from him. As dire as the situation was (and it was), Keegan cannot help himself from being just the tiniest bit entertained by your endearing little mannerisms.

"I'm not gonna sleep next to you in bed." He deadpans. Normally, he would let you stumble over your words, but exhaustion is seeping into his bones and even as a noceur himself he was in desperate need of some z's. "The armchair over there quite comfy."

You follow his eyes to the brown leather recliner that was beside the bed and then back to him.

"I'm tired, Keegan." You profess, leaning your head against his chest and he's absentmindedly rubbing circles into the small of your back.

"I know."

Typically, you wouldn't be this comfortable with a stranger but given the unusual circumstances that were currently trying to slaughter your ass, you found yourself seeking solace in him.

"Let's get you into bed."

And soon he's leading you back to the bedroom, his hand is still on the small of your back as you walk on wobbly legs. He peels off the comforter and you sink into the mattress feeling like royalty in your crisp, clean nightgown, in your large princess-like bed, surrounded by plush pillows as the light in the lantern flickers. It casts shadows over his dashing features. The flame turns his glacial eyes into a soft apricot and an expression flickers over his visage—concern.

He's harping over your safety and the intruder that happened to bypass his heavily guarded home. No tripped wires, no movement detected on his cameras, and not to mention not a single sound was made until he heard your thrashing in his room across the hall. If he hadn't been there in time—

"You saved me, though." You drone, shutting your eyes as you tuck yourself into the cotton sheets.

His hardened glare softens at your words and how you look at ease now. A testament to your full, unshakeable faith in him. God, you were so quick to trust, it honestly scared him a little for you.

He scoffs. "How can you be so sure that I wouldn't hurt you?"

"Because your father would resurrect and beat the absolute shit out of you if you even dared to think about harming me." You state with a sly smirk on your face.

Keegan's expression briefly falters before he lets out a snicker, acknowledging the truth in your bold proclamation. "Crafty little critter, aren't ya?"

You giggle as shift under the sheets. It's almost a bit disturbing how you are seemingly fine and brushing off the situation. "Maybe."

He peers down at you for a moment and the welcoming feeling of your radiance starts to crawl into his chest. Almost like you were right where you needed to be, in his home, in his bed under his safeguarding. He wants nothing more than that. It's almost a bit perturbing how you are seemingly fine.

"Go to sleep." You mumble.

"You go to sleep."

"No, you first,"

"Who else is going to shield you against creatures of the night?"

You pause for a moment. "Good point."

He smiles as he walks over to the armchair, gun propped up against his left leg as he sits to face you. You're already curling up in a ball, and your chest rises and falls at a tranquil pace.

"Good night, Blair." He feels his eyes drooping as his vision becomes bleary.

You chuckle at the idiotic nickname. "Good night, Cowboy."

The remnants of tiny, foolish smiles are left on your faces as you drift off to sleep in your respective spaces. The last passing thought that crosses your mind is Keegan's tender gaze and his fingers brushing against your lips. Keegan wonders what is making you so giddy before the world around him fades out.

As morning breaks, sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a gentle glow on the room. The spring breeze wafts into the wisps of your hair and your eyes flutter open. The seat in front of you is now empty and the balcony door is wide open, and yet you're calm as you rise out of bed. Birds are chirping and the incessant droning of cicadas buzzing loudly against your eardrums is merely white noise when you recognize the low rumble of your truck's engine pulling up. There is an urgency that surges within you and soon you're sprinting out the door, and the heat of the cobblestone stings at the soles of your feet but you don't care.

The engine cuts and Keegan climbs out of the truck, sleeves rolled up in his army green henley, and he's wearing a clean pair of relaxed, light-wash jeans that skim the leather of his Tecovas. He peers up at you with wintry hues, tipping his hat, and in that instant, you're transported back to your childhood—Mr. Russ, tipping his hat with those same eyes and that glorious smile that always made your heart race.

The resemblance was both striking and uncanny, but damn, you were totally not complaining.

"Mornin', little lady. You're up quite early." He puts his hands on his hips and he's no longer the stone-faced, vendetta-filled Cowboy that you met last night. He's your friendly Appalachian Cowboy who provides you the sweet, sweet southern hospitality with a charming smile and a bit of a North Carolinian twang that sets your groins on fire.

"Mornin', Cowboy. Fixed my truck, did you?" You lean against the French iron wrought railing with your ruffled hair and white nightgown, rippling in the slight draft that carries the healing scent of sage and lavender. The fabric forms around your body and Keegan notices how it traces the outline of your curves and how the sun is hitting you just perfect enough for you to look like a literal angel.

But it's still the unrelenting, disconcerting feeling that creeps up on him when he looks up at you so unbothered, airheaded with that buoyant grin on your face. Was it really just a facade?

"Fixed it good enough for you to get back on your way." He turns from you to the truck and then back to you. "By the way, where were you headed?"

"Back to the old man." You cross your leg over the other, waiting for his response. He watches as the skin of your legs peeks out from under the peignoir and it's a bit enticing.

"I didn't contact him if that's what you're askin'" His hand acts like a sun visor to block the light out of his sensitive eyes to take a good gander at you.

"I would hope not. Don't need to send him into cardiac arrest." You joke and you see his shoulders shaking a bit, suggesting a chuckle.

"Made you breakfast."

"Yeah?" You simper, leaning a little more against the railing.

He can't help the way his grin broadens as he peers up at your flirty form. "Careful now, can't have you comin' back home with a broken neck, can we?"

Shit. Shit. Shiiiiit.

Goddamn him and his pretty face. He's already heading inside as you're locking in on him, but Keegan isn't one to give you the satisfaction. He'll play the long game and he'll enjoy every minute of it. From the way you're sitting next to him at the table with your dress bunched up to your thighs to the way you sensually lick your spoon covered with cream and he's internally chuckling at the mess you've made on the corners of your lips, feigning gullibility to get a rise out of him. Admittedly, it's hot. He wants nothing more than to lick your fingers clean and sloppily kiss your sweet cream-laden lips.

Mmmm.

He doesn't say anything. Just enjoys his breakfast and keeps his gaze lowered like a gentleman. The company of a beautiful woman is enough for him on a fine Sunday morning like this.

You can only wonder what he's thinking as you act like a giddy schoolgirl who's trying to get the attention of her professor. Not that you had a significant age gap with Keegan, but in his original line of work there was a massive lapse. Being a retired Marine had probably mentally aged him over give or take 10 years would have been your best guess. And leaving the farm to his cousins in his absence probably impacted him even more, well, according to your gossip girl of a father at least.

He made trips down to NC every so often to check on his favorite, reclusive cowboy, sometimes tending to his facilities when need be. You never tagged along though. In your mind, you were a city girl who didn't mind dressing up as a cowgirl if she saw fit. So coming down from your city job, in the comfort of your sweet loft that overlooked the NOVA skyline didn't exactly make you miss the Appalachia trails.

Still, it is nice being back here with a somewhat familiar stranger in a home you had only seen the outside of because, for the majority of your life, you had so desperately tried to force out the rural in you. Call it toxic, but leaving the mountains always felt like the haze had lifted from your brain. It was unsettling to be here for too long.

"You're nervous."

You glance up from the runny eggs that you have been working on for the past twenty minutes. You give him a sheepish grin. "This place makes me nervous."

"Itching to go back to the city, huh?"

That elicits a small chuckle from you. "And what do you know about me?"

"Well, according to your father," He says in a knowing tone and you narrow your eyes at him as he gives you a coy smile. "you love the city too much to move back."

"I don't think I'm too good for it. Here, I mean."

"Didn't say that. The Appalachia isn't for everyone." He butters his toast and then munches on it and soon it vanishes into his mouth. The night before is washed away from your memory, but Keegan loses track of his thoughts as he stares at the leftover jagged lines embedded into your skin from a creature that he knew you wanted to forget. A glance at his watch and he's up, wiping his hands and mouth with the serviette that was on his lap before he places it on the table. "You ready?"

"You got somewhere to be?" You raise your brows, not quite ready to leave yet.

"Matter o'fact I gotta date with an employee from Tractor Supply Co in about an hour, and it's thirty minutes out."

"New livestock?" You sip at your coffee.

A sad smile graces his lips. "Yeah, my last eldest cattle just passed away a few weeks ago."

You frown. "I'm sorry."

For a moment you swear you saw him get teary-eyed, but he quickly shakes himself out of the grief, grabbing his keys as he downs his glass of ice water. He stops himself for a moment as you get up to push your chair in and he can't help himself from tracing his fingers over the claw marks on either side of your shoulders. You shudder from the remembrance and his touch.

"[name]," He starts to express but your mood sours.

"Stop."

His expression falters and so does his hand as he lets it drop to his side. You didn't want to remember any of it. He notices how you clutch onto your necklace and he drops the subject.

"Your trucks waiting." He takes your hand and deposits the keys into your palm.

You give him a tight-lipped smile. "Thank you."

You begin to approach your truck and you feel relief washing over you as you run your hand over the tarnished, rusted hood of the Dodge before you open the driver door. As you climb in you notice that all your belongings remain untouched. Scattered cassette tapes, polaroids, and the little Hawaiian girl that swayed with every movement still plastered onto the dash. The leather seats seem to have abrasions, revealing the cushion beneath, but you write it off as a bear maybe deciding to try and access your vehicle after you had abandoned it.

"…[name], ….[name]….!"

You're snapped out of your stupor, recollecting your thoughts as you glance over at him leaning his body against your truck. "I checked the vehicle, it's all clear for you to go. Should make it back alright."

"Why wouldn't it be if you fixed the engine?"

The look you give him is blank, free from concern and any worry that may have been left on your face from last night.

He nods, pushing his hands into his jean pockets. "Right, well, it was nice seeing you all grown up."

That provokes a reaction. Heat is rising to your cheeks and Keegan is standing there looking cool as ever as he takes off his hat and wipes the sweat off his brow before putting it back on.

"Thank you." You say with more feeling, only your eyes acknowledging the horrors of last night. And that's enough for Keegan.

"You take care now." He tips his hat with a good-natured grin and you snicker at his little cowboy bit.

He waves to you as you back out of his driveway and you glance over from your rearview mirror as his towering figure disappears and so does any anamnesis from the evening prior. Or at least, you told yourself that.

And that was April. Months have gone by and Keegan doesn't exactly expect you to keep in contact. He's even surprised to hear a, '[name], says hello, by the way.' from your father during their weekly check-in.

And he definitely does not expect to see your truck in his driveway when he's coming back from milking his cows for the day with his new set of eyes that's in dog form, wagging her tail in anticipation as she sits.

"German Shepherd, eh? Suits you." You simper at him, leaning against the pillar of his home with glossy lips, and a cutesy red paisley swing dress that just barely covers your thighs. Your boots are hardly broken in as they dig into the grassy field and your hair is a little disheveled in an endearing way.

"Name's Miley." He peels off his gloves, shoving them into his back pocket. He's completely taken aback by your sudden presence, though he's not one to complain about a pretty lady showing up at his door.

"Hey, Miley." You coo, holding your hand to her and she's immediately reciprocating your energy tenfold as she jumps up and down, causing you to giggle and pet her soft fur.

Keegan doesn't even need to say anything as he glances down at the German Shepherd and she's already sitting on the ground between you two.

"Miss me?" You ask, coyly.

"Could ask you the same thing, Blair." He tilts his head to the side, eyeing you suspiciously. Something was off.

"I was just in town."

"Uh huh."

It doesn't take long before the act drops and distress is carving into your features. Lips are trembling in fear as your eyes begin to water.

"Something's been following me, Keegan." Your body naturally falls against his chest and his breath hitches a bit at your contact and the smell of your perfume wafts into his senses.

Fuck.

mini taglist: @keegansshark @soapsgf @milkteaarttime

#call of duty #call of duty imagines #keegan p russ #keegan p russ x reader #keegan russ x reader #keegan russ smut #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #cod ghosts #call of duty ghosts #call of duty smut #keegan x reader #cod keegan #keegan russ #keegan smut #eventual smut #alternate universe #cod au

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itsa-me-lily · 11 days ago

Note

First: How sfw/nsfw are we allowed to go with asks and whatnot, as well as stuff you won't write? I'm not intending on sending anything crazy, I just don't wanna cross boundaries

Second: Every guy in my family (minus one), married in or born in, is/was military, and I have heard that it's not uncommon for military spouses to cheat on their partner, especially when deployed. I'm not saying dear reader is cheating or anything of the sort, but I could def see some fresh dumbass recruits trying to pull the legendary Lieutenant's wife, if only for bragging rights. Curious how that would shake out (would the recruits ever be seen again, who knows!)

TLDR for the first part, I'm okay with NSFW asks and you can find my list of no goes (as well as the master list for Military Program Spouse) here

Now for the second part

Content Warning; Discussion of size (kind of), discussions of cheating (kind of) (please let me know if I'm missing anything)

Also Reader is fat, like size 18/20 pants, like there's a jiggle no matter what she's doing (remember kids fat isn't a dirty word what size you are doesn't define your morality, your actions do)

Also also please know that my brain does not want to let go of Reader telling Simon "well we wouldn't be in this situation if you could pull bitches" but I don't think it's going to fit in this

Honestly the sex talk had gone better than you had anticipated. In the past when you had tried to explain being demisexual and what that meant for your sexual attraction to other people you'd gotten blank stares, been told you were just picky or that you were just talking about a crush that everyone got. You knew it wasn't, but it got old fast. And while Simon stared as you explained yourself, he didn't push or tell you that it was some new made up sexuality.

It was refreshing.

You weren't even that offended when Simon had stated he had no interest of sleeping with you. You'd come to accept that you weren't everyone's cup of tea, not everyone liked a little jiggle in the wiggle. So you'd be two people who legally shared the last name, roommates, broskis if you will.

You'd agreed that any extramarital activities had to be respectful, discreet, and that if it turned serious divorce was an option on the table. Or well, you listed out your ideas in what you thought was a logical manner and Simon just listened before grunting what you thought was an affirmative and then turning on the TV for some sort of sports game. You were a theater kid growing up, you weren't a fan of sport ball. So the two of you started your married lives with the ever perpetual hall pass.

Not that you ever used yours. Again there was the fact that you only felt any real attraction or desire once you had gotten to know someone, felt a connection that...intrigued your soul for lack of better phrasing. And you are a very self sufficient woman. People weren't typically banging down your door to...well bang, so really you just went about your days.

It was probably why you hadn't noticed the recruit flirting with you at first. At first it was just a polite nod and acknowledgement of who you were when you had to come to base to fill out paperwork. Then there were the times you'd run into him while walking through the neighborhoods. Private (or was he Second Private? You never really paid attention) Pearson was alright, a pretty boy who seemed to know it, given how he seemed to preen with attention once you caught on to what was happening. Yeah he was alright but nothing that really wanted to make you deal with the headache of dealing with two men in your life. Plus you were pretty sure he had mentioned something about working with Simon? You were not a person who shit where you ate.

So you played dumb when he tried to flirt with you, and never took him up on any offers to 'help' you around the house or to show you how to use the gym equipment, after hours of course. The cockiest had to have been when he offered to help you 'stretch' any time. The smile he wore when he offered that one was so slimy you felt like you needed a shower after.

It all came to a head one day in the mailroom. Somehow a random package had been delivered to the house instead of on base, and since Simon was out doing god knows what somewhere in the world it wasn't like he could take it with him. So you were doing your good deed of the day and dropping it off. Only to run into Pearson, who was with friends...even better.

You had tried to just smile politely and wave, acting like you were in the middle of running Very Important Errands. It didn't help much. Pearson and Co still came up to you like you were all the best of friends, Pearson even being so bold as to drape an arm across your shoulders, or he tried you. You side stepped him easily enough to his annoyance.

You lightly chit chatted, looking for an opening to excuse yourself. You'd be blunt if you had to, but you really didn't want to deal with any back lash for being a 'bitch'. Though maybe you should have. He must have sensed your deep rooted desire to get the fuck out of there, because Pearson put on the grosses looking grin, leaning in as if to share a secret.

"The boys and I were going to go out for some drinks tonight. Why don't you come with us? Promise we don't bite."

The last part was whispered liked it was a promise of the opposite. You honestly wanted to barf. A) Drinking wasn't really your scene. B) Pearson definitely wasn't your scene.

"As tempting as that sounds, sorry boys. I uh- I don't drink."

"Oh come on pretty girl, one drink won't hurt you."

You wanted to roll your eyes as Pearson tried to tempt you out, reaching to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. Thankfully you had heard little rumors that maybe the 141 was coming home. Simon wouldn't mind you using him as an excuse...probably.

"Really I can't. Simon should be coming home soon and I still have things I want to take care of before he's back."

Maybe it was the threat of their CO being back that caused all of them to freeze for a moment, giving you the opening to slip out from their little triangle they made, making your way to the exit. Pearson must have really been desperate, or just that stupid to practically shout after you.

"Come on, you really can't enjoy him more than me right? Doubt he's really all that great and impressive."

Oh that stopped you in your tracks. Simon Riley was a lot of things, annoying, stubborn, an asshole, rude, louder than the fucking heavens when he snored, a person who didn't care if he used up all the hot water, one could even say he was creepy at times. He didn't open up about things, and acted like socializing was the bane of his existence.

He had a sense of humor that people seldom understood, but he still entertained himself. Scared you half to death dozens of times over with how fucking quiet he was, like he was appearing out of thin air, but he'd try to knock to catch your attention if you were in the bedroom or bathroom. Had what was probably a herculean amount of strength in a single bear paw of his, but you'd seen him try to offer a finger for Tombo to sniff when the little curly mop got curious.

You plastered on the biggest polite smile you had, the one that boarder lined on looking a little crazy with how much it stretched your mouth, and spun on your feet to look at the trio of men who really tried to try you this day.

"You all know my husband."

You didn't actually wait for a response as you walked back to the men, who all started to look like they were regretting their choices.

"Lieutenant Riley. You know, Lieutenant "built like a brick shit house" Riley."

You stopped directly in front of Pearson, hands on your hips as you met his stare straight on, before looking him up and down slowly.

"Really what makes you think you can...measure up?"

The scrunch of your face at the end made it very clear that you had decided that the younger man was severely 'lacking' when it came to any kind of measuring. Clearly none of them had expected you to react like this, given that they just stared gobsmacked as you shrugged and waved them good bye with the tips of your fingers, happily making a sassy exit to your freedom.

Simon Riley was a lot of things, and he was your husband. And no one talked shit about your husband except you.

Edit;

There's a second part I want to add to this that I'll probably work on this weekend. I'm very out of the habit of writing so it takes me a hot minute to get stuff down the way I want it. Anyway I hope you like this! And remember

A) Being Fat doesn't make you good or bad

B) I am a greedy greedy goblin who loves getting asks

#cod #military program spouse #simon x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #Simon x Thimble

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rhiannonsknife · 22 days ago

Note

IM BAAAACK life has been creatively rotting my brain but i reappear! this time not with smut (rip but it will be back) but with mind-numbing fluff

i've been thinking a lot about the fact that rhiannon is painfully lonely in canon and it always makes me go insane and crazy... i need to be the one to show her the affection she's been craving for so long! it starts off small - making her coffee because you notice how she always brings coffee to her coworkers with no thank you's. then you start bringing her little gifts, small things like staplers or hole punches that you've heard her complaining about because the ones she's been given don't work. it's at this point that she's already head over heels for you, and you've barely done anything but show her human decency. you don't even have to think about your response when she asks you out on a date; it's an immadiate yes. when the two of you start dating, you always find a way to go above and beyond. flowers in a nice vase when she gets a raise at work, a bath drawn with a bath bomb and candles because she texted you that she wasn't feeling well, and frequent date nights with the best wine you can afford. she's not at all used to anyone in her life being this kind to her, and the first few times you show her affection, she busts out into tears (and even after that, she gets misty-eyed every time). you just love her so much that you want to make sure that she gets treated like she should've always been treated this whole time

also making the executive decision to sign off with 🪐 from now on

welcome 🪐 anon!! <3 i adore your thoughts omg!! seeing you in my inbox never fails to make my day!!! 😁

this is something i think about alllll the time!! my number 1 love language is definitely either gift-giving or acts of service but like…i‘d go CRAZY with these for rhiannon!!! i could fix her guys!!

she’s so startled to find that first coffee on her desk that marks the beginning of your relationship. her eyes would be so wide in surprise. sure, she’s been the one to make coffee for her colleagues all the time, but not once had anyone acknowledged that, let alone bothered to return the favor. ever. but you’ve seen her. of course you have. your heart had ached for her every time she’d brought coffee for her coworkers only to be ignored all over again. it was about time someone did something nice for her.

her reaction, however, has you wondering how long it truly has been since somebody did something for rhiannon. anything at all.

she’s sputtering on and on about how you “didn’t have have to do that” and how she’ll “definitely pay you back” for going out of your way to bring some good coffee from the café down the road instead of the shitty kind from the office’s machine.

from this point forward, you always bring her coffee whenever you go out for your break. it becomes your little routine: walking past her desk, calling out her name, and watching how her head will instantly snap in your direction. the smile she flashes you every time is what gets you through your shifts. you learn rhiannon’s coffee order by heart before you make up a nickname for her that only you ever use so she'll know you're approaching just be the way you're cheerfully calling "rhee" through the office. you learn, over time, that she’s got a massive sweet tooth and start bringing a cookie to her coffee as well.

it becomes your thing. something the two of you share in the otherwise rather boring everyday life. if rhiannon is still out by the time you come back, you’ll leave the things on her desk and she will know that you’ve thought of her when she comes back. she could quite literally combust whenever she gets back to a warm coffee and a snack left for here because for the first time, someone cares!! someone sees!! just when she thinks she couldn’t fall even more in love with you from afar, you come up with yet another thing to brighten up her days: she hadn’t thought anyone would overhear her cursing the cheap hole punchers everyone’s been given until she finds a brand new, perfectly working one along her coffee one day.

she looks at you from across the room, clearly in disbelief, and just barely catches your knowing smile as you quickly turn away.

when you start dating, shortly after this incident, it is only because rhiannon finally has it in herself to approach you: she is so nervous to talk to you that she literally has to give herself a mental pep talk before approaching your desk at all. on top of that, she's too flustered to actually call it what she wants it to be -a date- and you have to take over, sensing her endearing nervousness. “i was- uhm- well i was wondering if you’d wanna come grab a coffee? i was about to leave but i think your lunch break is about to start too, isn’t it? not that i was like- stalking your lunch break schedule, or whatever! i just thought it would be nice…” she's blushing like crazy, ready for immediate rejection. instead, you smile at her and ask: “as a date?” god, rhiannon could melt right then and there!!! she would, but you instantly get up when she confirms this, so there's no time to.

after this, there’s quite literally no stopping you.

once she’s your girlfriend officially you make it your job to ensure rhiannon never feels lonely or invisible ever again. that first time she comes home to you being there, it’s already enough for her to feel appreciated: to come back to a house that actually feels like home with somebody waiting for her. and that’s before she walks in and sees all that you’ve prepared for her: homemade dinner, candles set up on the table, a fresh bouquet of her favorite flowers…

rhiannon starts sobbing instantly. you’re so worried, thinking you’ve overstepped or done something wrong to upset her. that is until she wraps her arms around you and covers you in kisses, hoarsely thanking you for the surprise. “i don’t deserve you” she claims through the tears. “i really, really don’t deserve you”

but of course she does and, of course, you’ll do it again. whether it’s by “small” gestures like sending her playlists of songs that make you think of her, remembering her favorite snacks when you’re out grocery shopping or taking care of her after a rough day, running her a bath and washing her hair for her or bigger things you prepare for her. surprise date nights that take some time to prepare but it’s all worth it when you get to watch rhiannon’s reaction. a planned trip for her birthday, where you take her somewhere nice that she always wanted to visit. literally anything to make her happy and give her the life she always deserved!!!!! <333

#rhiannon lewis Ღ #🪐 anon #rhiannon lewis #rhiannon lewis x reader #sweetpea

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fashionteahouse · 15 days ago

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out of your league - paul x reader

AN: thank you so much for all of the love and support for fourteen entire parts of this story ! hugs and kisses, xoxo <<prev >>next

Nervously biting your lip, you waited for the phone to answer your call. The wrinkled napkin was even more wrinkled and you hoped that the slightly smudged numbers were accurate to the ones that you have digitally imputed.

A man picks up the phone, asking who this person is calling him for.

"Hi. Can I speak to John?" you say, trying to rid your voice of any type of nervousness.

"This is he. Wait.. I know this voice... Let me think, don't say it. I will get it right....Y/N? Right?" he says.

You chuckle and confirm. He asks you how you've been. Fall is starting soon and your schedule was clear enough to give him a phone call.

"So, I'm really glad that you called. I really think I should introduce you to somebody that you will go crazy for." he explains.

"Mhm." you say as he then continues after he hears your acknowledgment.

"I think you both will go crazy for each other actually. Both of your minds seem to be a lot alike. I showed him your work and he found the other work that you have posted, he like went crazy." he says and chuckles as you join in.

"So. Have you been to New York before?" he asks.

"Never." you say almost in shock. That was the very place you would love to go. Art seemed endless there.

"All I need is for you to tell me you would like to visit and a ticket will be in your email inbox before the leaves touch the ground." he says and you take a moment to think.

Paul wasn't there at the moment, making his rounds with Sam.

"Yes, I would love to but-"

"Good! I'll uh.. keep in touch and I'll see you soon." he says, his voice being much lighter since you somewhat accepted such an offer. He saw so much potential and wanted to introduce you into a deeper world.

The line goes dead as you rack your brain of how this conversation could go.

As the fork clinked against the plate, Paul chuckled to himself as he swallowed his food. He finally takes his eyes that were on his plate and directs them to your pupils.

"You must have to either tell me something or you want something."

You playfully roll your eyes, "If I want something, you know what I would do." you tell him. He gives you a look that makes you blush but you quickly recoup yourself before things go too far off track.

"Don't freak out please." you tell him carefully as your held your own fork.

He glanced at the dish that you served him, it was one of his favorites. You barely cooked it because you expressed how tedious it was. He thought you found the lost time.

"I wont freak out if its bad." he decides.

Knowing you're not going to get the promise you wanted, you nod as you just let the words roll off of your tongue.

"I'm going to New York soon."

"When?" he says immediately back.

"Soon, before the fall."

Smiling a bit but no intent of humor, he is a bit taken aback.

"That's... very close." he says.

"I just found out today while you were gone." you say defensively.

He doesn't say much as he furrows his eyebrows and looks back down at his plate. He's thinking.

"What are you thinking about?" you softly ask as you place a touch on his hand.

"Nothing."

"Liar." you say in a hushed tone.

"How long are you going to be gone?" he asks.

You slowly shrug, feeling a bit shameful for not knowing the definite answer. You felt it was a bit childish.

"And you accepted- wait. Who is in New York again?" he then asks.

"The guy who bought my painting." you explain.

"Oh." he drags out as he scrapes the last remainder of food that was on his plate, bringing it to his mouth, saying it as if he pieced the final piece to a puzzle.

"Do you think Sam will let you go?" you ask as you fold a napkin, over creasing it.

"Sure he would. If hell froze over." he answers.

"Plus, you don't know how long you're going to be gone." he says with his hands out.

Looking down, "I don't know, I thought you would think this is a good opportunity for me." you voice out.

"Y/N, it is. There's just no way in hell he's going to let me go miles and miles away from La Push for god knows how long." he says, if you didn't pay attention, you would’ve missed that there was a hint of somberness in his voice.

Getting up from your seat, his head is now in your arms as you hold it against your stomach. "I really wish you could come."

He doesn't say anything for some time but his arm fits snug around your waist. Once you are about to let him go, he surprises you with, "You're going far. I know I can't go. Can you at least ask someone to go with you?"

You intake a breath for a response but he adds in, "I would feel better knowing someone is going with you at least."

"I can see but..." you say giving him a knowing look. Sam admitted to checking up on Emily while doing errands. It was comical to think they would be able to handle being without each other for long.

He laughs a little, "I know."

"The idea of someone being with me doesn't sound bad, you know. You have to promise me to come with me the next time I go back." you tell him.

He leans up as you lean down, "Deal." he agrees. Instead of shaking on it, you both touch lips on it.

Another day came around as you woke up in bed alone. Covers were tucked tight with you, Paul didn't want you to be cold due to your lack of clothing. The weather was starting to show signs of change. The summer wave is blending into an end. You really had to wear a jacket for temperature purposes and not by fashionable choice.

Sliding it on, you closed the front door as you made you way to return the rest of your checked out books to the local library. You brought the almost finished Wuthering Heights, texting Bella since it was a public place.

"I'm at the library. I wanted to give you something."

You weren't a heartless person. It kind of made you feel bad as you read previous missed texts from Bella, asking you if you can talk on the phone or if you were free.

You tried your best to give Paul the stress free mentality of not dealing with her. Knowing the danger that she was constantly around, you were a bit scared of it rubbing off on you.

She immediately texts back. Not hearing from you in a long time, made her not want to miss an interaction with you.

"Okay. I'm omw"

You waited as you looked around. She didn't take long before she pushes open the clear entry door and have her chocolate eyes searching for yours.

What surprised you was the hug that she gave you. She pulls back with a nervous chuckle, "I'm sorry. I haven't heard from you in a while, that's all."

"Yeah." you say bringing a nervous chuckle of your own. You extend the book in her direction as she softly smiles.

Her smile fades as she notices that you haven't finished it. She echoes her observation.

"You haven't finished it."

"I know. I'm going out of town and I don't want to lose it or anything." you explain.

She vocalizes two tisks as she looks back at the returned book, "Y/N, give it back to me when you’ve actually read the entire thing."

"I don't even know when I'm coming back." you say, bringing your shoulders up a bit.

Her eyebrows furrow a bit, "Did you change your mind? Are you leaving for college?"

You shake your head, "The power of art."

She smiles again, "That's good. I'm happy for you."

"At least keep it until I get back." you tell her, trying your best to convince her.

"No way. You might need it for the trip going there. Wait, where are you going?"

You hesitated as you thought of her immortal boyfriend finding out.

"Y/N?" she asks again when she doesn't get an answer, but cautiously.

She didn't have to know the exact city or place. Just the state.

Her eyes grow big, "Wow. That's awesome. I've never been."

"Really?" you ask her as you both walk out of the library.

As much as her mother moved around, you were surprised.

"Yeah." she says as a lock of hair moved with her fingers to rest behind her ear.

As you walk her to her truck, she then says, "I'm sure Paul is going to miss you like crazy."

"Yeah. I shouldn’t be gone for too long.”

You hear her sigh as you watch her open a cab door.

"What's wrong?' you ask.

She takes a moment, before continuing, "Do you think.. Never mind." she says.

"What? What is it?" you press on.

"I mean.. It would be nice if I got to get away like you. I really don't want to spend my birthday here. Then, you’re leaving." she says with gloom as she looks around.

"But, you get to spend it with Edward. Besides, I'm sure it's going to be all work with no fun anyhow." you say, trying to shrug it off.

She doesn't say anything but you could easily tell she wanted to.

She instead decides to sit in her driver seat.

"I can drop you back off if you want me to." she says, noticing you don't have car keys.

"The air feels good today."

"Y/N, get in." she says.

Your heart thuds almost out of your chest at the thought of her finding out where you and Paul lived. Afraid of the information she would tell Edward, you decide to play with flipping the script.

"What were you up to? I don't really feel like going home. Paul is out right now." you say as you close the passenger door.

"Doing chores. Fun, huh." she says with dry humor but her eyes still light up.

"Very." you say and both share a series of chuckles.

"Do you want to come over?" she offers. There was hope in her voice. Bella hasn't really made a genuine friend, let alone a human friend, enough to ever ask this question. It felt good to willingly ask this question to someone.

You nod. It was way better than explaining to Paul on why Bella Swan knows where you both live.

Driving on the highway, you both soak in the comfortable silence. For some reason, you felt like you had to get inside of this chick's head.

Sitting crisscrossed on her soft bed, your eyes wander around her bedroom.

You caught sight of the pictures that hung up, kids that definitely went to her school. A picture of her and her father. "Cool mustache" , you thought to yourself. Bella being hugged tightly by Renee as you could feel her carefree nature just by one glance at the picture. A long haired boy next to her was muddy as blush was painted on Bella's cheeks with the boy's arm slung around her shoulder. Taking an extra glance, you notice that she was muddy in the picture as well. A picture that stuck out like a sore thumb out of all of them, was the one with the Cullen boy. If you hadn't seen him in person with her, you would've thought she cut him out of a magazine and glued him next to her.

"So, that's why you were in Seattle." she says as realization hit as you tell her the full story of how this opportunity came about.

You nod your head as she chuckles, "Edward was trying to take me to something fancy, I convinced him to let me eat there."

"Wow." you say.

You then change the subject, “What was your first impression of Edward?”

“Perfect.” she says with a blush.

“You both met a school?” you ask. She nods.

“What about you?” she ask as she jerks her head a bit.

You shrug as you shyly smile, “I thought he was out of my league to be honest.”

A small laugh comes out of her throat as she says, “No, same. I still wonder how Edward finds me interesting.”

“Come on, it’s easy. You’re a pretty girl with a…Pretty guy to match. I’m sure this isn’t your first rodeo.” You say to not let herself feel low standard.

She gives you a look, “He’s my first boyfriend. Plus, guys didn’t look my way. In places like Arizona and California, I’m just another girl.” she explains.

You raise your eyebrows a bit at this. Understanding the rush, “Paul’s mine as well. I guess we’re experiencing relationships for the first time…together.”

A small smile doesn’t leave her face, “Okay, I’m shocked at you. You’re so easy to get along with.”

You shrug.

"I still haven't forgot that you told me you were going to let me peak into your sketchbook."

"I didn't forget." you say you say sweetly and a muffled knock appears at the door.

"I'll be back." she says as she gets up. Not thinking anything of it, you stretch your legs out in her spot until she gets back. Except, she doesn't come back right away.

You move closer to the cracked bedroom door as you hear voices beneath you. Almost being a pro at eavesdropping, you don't let your footsteps touch the ground hard under you as you sit close.

"They're dangerous, Bella." you hear a male voice, almost sounding like bells chiming.

"Well, Y/N's not. She's human. Like me."

"Who's dating someone dangerous, Bella. Who loses their temper faster than we do." the voice says, in that same bell like voice.

It was entrapping, it made you want to hear him speak a long speech, knowing you would never get bored. It was unnatural.

"Edward, that’s not fair. Plus, you won’t even explain why."

"What wouldn't be fair is if something were to happen to you." he says and silence fills the air.

You brace yourself to move, thinking he must've figured out that you're listening in, but luckily, he continues, "I know you're a selfless person, but Alice has been dying to spend more time with you."

Hearing her frustrated and impatient sigh, "Edward, I like spending time with people who have the same interests as me. Being Barbie Bella is tiring." she says.

"I know. You can just talk to her." he says.

"I have. I seriously don't believe for a second that you think she listens."

Silence then trickles into the air again as you give up, not even letting your position be known. It seemed like as soon as you sat on the bed, Bella came back in.

"Who was that?" you ask her.

"Just Edward. Are you hungry? I went shopping this week." she says as if nothing happened.

Wanting to know if your curiosity serves you right, you nod. Following her down the wooden steps, the perfect male is sitting stiffly in the kitchen chair.

Glancing at Bella, she opens her mouth, "Y/N. Edward. Edward, this is Y/N."

It was as if he tried to figure something out, as you kept your eyes on him. You didn't say anything. It reminded you of the look of concentration that he displayed when you saw him and Bella in Seattle.

"Hello." he says politely, but something in his actions felt like he wanted to say more.

"Goodbye." you say and you turn to Bella, "I should get going."

"You just got here. Please." she says, her eyes screaming for you not to go. Her hand even takes the extra length to be placed on your arm as you try to turn on your heels.

Sighing, you hated being in uncomfortable situations. You definitely didn't sign up to be a third wheel.

"I'll just be in the living room." you tell her. She's pleased with this.

"Cool. I can um.. Start dinner for Charlie then." she says with a small smile.

Giving her a tight smile you drop it as your back is faced towards her. Flopping on the couch, you press the buttons on the remote. Not knowing what to put on, you just let Animal Planet run its course. You didn't have to think.

The narrator finishes up the showing of the son of a lion being kicked out of the pride. The melodramatic music begins as the son has no choice but to leave and wander along the edges of established territories.

"They do it. If there's potential competition." the melodic voice speaks out, you jump a bit as you didn't hear him come in the living room. Out of you peripheral vision, you catch a glimpse of him as he sits stiffly on the other end of the couch.

You could still hear Bella tinkering about in the kitchen.

"I would say cool but.." you say as you impatiently wait for the commercial break to end.

"All it is, is nature." he says back.

You take a quick look at him. You wished you didn't. The amber eyes stared back at you with so much focus, it was uncanny.

You look away. You weren't afraid. It was just unnerving. His gaze was both pierce and intense. You weren’t used to something like this since the first time that you met Paul.

“Your eyes.” you just say as you watch the screen advertise paper towels, in a volume that you know only he could hear. You said it with such obvious clarity. The last commercial smoothly transitioned into the next animal’s day in a life.

“What about them.” he says slowly but steadily.

“They’re a bit..” you say and then smirk but shake your head.

“They’re a bit, what?” he pressed on but still coated with detectable persuasion.

“Unusual.” you say square at him and watch as his lips purse a bit at this. His eyebrows wrinkle a bit.

You then take your eyes back to the television screen. It wasn’t like he was going to do anything with Bella right in the kitchen.

“Is that a bad thing?” he asks with great curiosity as the animal’s day on the screen is paced slow.

“It’s an unusual thing.” you say as your eyes follow the vibrant colors of the safari scenery but to your surprise he chuckles a bit as he coolly says, “Hypothetically, you have something about yourself that’s unusual.”

You go silent as you just shrug him off. He then rises as Bella meets him halfway as she entered the room, her face filled with happiness to see him as she forgets her surroundings.

“Never again.” you sigh internally in your head as you rest your knuckle on your cheek as your arm rests on arm of the sofa. It almost felt more intrusive than Sam and Emily.

“I will leave you both be. Your friend is getting bored.” he says with humor but it was also as if he couldn’t wait to have something pinned on you. The smug smile that he tried to hide wasn’t unnoticeable to you. Bella just looked up to him with longing, but Edward held her close with such delicacy. It looked like a hint of a renaissance painting.

You didn’t expect the look of Edward’s face as he caught your eyes, the smugness slowly died down. It was as if he was reading or watching something in your eyes but you feel very unsettled, casting your glance to just Bella.

Bella then catches your eye and has a sign of remembrance as she then takes a shy hold of your hand as she walks you in the direction of the kitchen.

You felt safe in Bella’s grip but Edward’s eyes burned your skin. He literally watched you the entire way.

“Thank you.” you tell Bella as you politely take a baked treat of hers. She wanted you to try her dinner, but your stomach just couldn’t handle the heaviness of the food due to the lasting effects of Edward. A small desert was passable. It would let you buy time to think of responses if needed be.

She passed your welcomes and you both sit confortably at her table.

“He’s gone and I miss him already.” She says as she chuckles and nervously run a hand through her hair, “Is it like that with you and Paul?”

The fact that she acknowledged Edward’s absence, your tense shoulders dropped as you nod. It was true, you did miss him even at that moment.

Thinking of him, shuddered a wave of confidence through you. You were tired of tiptoeing.

“Do you both have a supernatural connection?” you ask.

She blinks as she looks at you with a wave of shock.

“Bella. It’s okay. I know Edward is not really human.” you carefully say as she still try to peddle through the river of denial.

She stutters out, “How? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You are so not leaving me here by myself in this world.” you say to her and it shuts her up.

Her face goes even as she then looks down and then around. She shakes her head a bit as she lets out a small breath, “So, is Paul..?”

You didn’t want to deep dive into his abilities with someone who was dating his opposition.

“Something of that sort. But promise me something please.” you say.

She nods.

“Don’t tell Edward that…I know.” you say.

She nods again but speaks, “He can’t read my mind anyway.”

You make a gesture of not knowing what she’s talking about. She makes it crystal clear. You then wondered, what did he see in your mind? It shouldn’t have been too much since you spoke out to him directly, but you just didn’t know for sure yet.

“Lucky you.” you say as she lightens her mood, feeling relaxed and at ease again.

“I feel like it’s good that we’ve met. I mean it’s nice to know someone who’s like me, a human, who just knows what it’s like to keep secrets. Especially, about stuff like this.” she says with great relief.

You give her a smile as she has her feel of gratefulness.

Her hand stayed on the steering wheel as she looked over to you. Not only did common interests overlap with one another, she liked having you around a lot. You felt bad about the idea of completely cutting her off.

“Text me.” she says as you push open her truck door.

“Okay.” you say back as your feet touched the pavement of the beach parking lot.

Sitting on the rocks, your mind wandered free as dusk began to settle in. You call Paul but there’s no answer. He’s still not home by the time you walk back.

You felt a sense of lonesome, the shower that you took didn’t soothe you. Stealing Paul’s pillow, you clutch it close to you as his faint smell of him dance in your nostrils.

It was very dark but there a luminary light that pushed your footsteps forward. Walking towards it, you felt a strong hand try to pull you back but one hand started to multiply. Soon, hands were trying their best to keep you from going into the light that you were walking in.

You woke up with such urgency, you almost didn’t notice Paul smushed into you. Sighing in relief and tracing your hand on his cheek, he stirs in his sleep. As you let your mind play a supercut of your dream, Paul’s eyes slowly but tiredly blinks open as he catches a glimpse of your unsettled demeanor.

Reaching to kiss your jawline, he makes sure that you’re okay.

You nit pick at the breakfast in front of you. Paul watched your movements without saying anything.

“I think I’m going to stay back.” you say to the silent air.

“What?” he says, as if you were crazy. You don’t say anything as you watch your breakfast instead of eating it.

“Look, you don’t have to take someone with you I was just-“ he starts, but you didn't like the way that his eyes showed how he blamed himself, you cut him off.

“It’s not about that. I don’t know. I just feel like….” you say but sigh out as your shoulders hunch a bit.

“What is it?”

“I really want you to be the one to come with me.” you just quietly say.

He takes your hand. “Believe me, I feel the same.” he says.

Your mind goes to thinking again. You really want to tell Paul that Edward has an ability. It scratches at your brain. You wondered if this was something that he knew. But, the millions of questions would come and he’s been trusting you more. If he found out that you were around Edward to know, things would go back to square one.

“I'm so fucking tired.” he comments. You look up and see that he’s telling the truth. The bags under his eyes show proof of his claim.

The hand that he still had in his, rose to up and your lips place a kiss on the back of his.

"Can we trade places?" you say to make him feel a bit better.

"No way. Let your passion be the only thing that stresses you out." he says seriously. He rises as he announces his departure. Crushing you close to him, you gladly drink him in to the point where he had to be the one to unwillingly pull away.

Sitting at the kitchen table, you doodled in your pad to blow off the thoughts in your head. Barely paying attention to the direction of your strokes. It wasn't until you reached for your eraser, is when you look at the small picture that you drew.

The eyes were very familiar and striking. You tear out the page as you crumble it tight and toss it in the trash. All it did was bring out the memories of what those eyes held. A certain face floated in your head so you tried your best to distract yourself.

Calling Emily, you find out that she’s home. You smile at this. Your smile fades when she then drops, "Kim is here."

Retracting your interest, "Okay, well, I guess I will talk to you later."

Hanging up with her, you figure fresh, cool air should help you take your mind off of things.

You walk outside, the wind blowing as you take your time with your steps. Headphones were snug on your ears as you listened closely to the lyrics. The song, you and Paul’s song, came on and soothed you. You both came a long way since then. Your mind travels as you sit on the cliffs.

As you let the piece of charcoal glide in your small booklet, a quote stuck out to you.

“Hypothetically, you have something about yourself that’s unusual.”

Whatever that means. But what did it mean? Was it just a get back for your comment? The color was unusual. But most of all, you felt frustrated that all you wanted to do was clear your head but your mind kept going back to your interaction with Edward Cullen.

You scribbled frustratedly on the page, cursing for him taking up the space in your mind. It started to slowly turn into bitterness. Even his smug demeanor that he displayed the previous day was even on loop. As badly as you wanted to shake him off, you just couldn’t.

Sliding your headphones off while they were leaking with music, you let out a deep sigh. You definitely weren’t going to stay here and miss out on leaving town.

“Can you please at least come for dinner? I haven’t seen you in so long :) “

You read Emily’s text as you made your way down the cliffs. You were there for a while. Not responding, you just walk to her home.

Opening the door, the aroma of the supper that she cooked, smacked right into you.

Her body soon followed as she hugged you tight. “It’s been so long!” she gushes, happy to see you. Hugging her back, you squeeze her to let her know that you missed her as well.

Sam says hello to you as you touch his shoulder in passing. Moving into the living room, you find Paul sitting on the same sofa as Jared.

Wrapping yourself up with Paul, Jared jokes how a hello to him would be nice.

“Sorry.” you replied with nervous laughter. You didn’t get a chance to talk much after, Paul’s finger guides your face to his as he gets a taste of you.

“The bedroom is that way.” you hear an unpleasant voice suddenly say.

Ignoring it, you didn't even notice Jared telling her silently to stop.

You rise as you take Paul’s hand with you to sit at the eating table next to you.

Thank goodness the conversation was light but you were still silent, besides laughing at Paul’s humorous remarks that he would throw out.

You stood at the sink as laughter was floating out of the living room. Taking the dish out of the soapy water, you began to scrub with a sponge as the headphones softly sang songs in your ears.

With the dishes done, you go into the living room to join everyone.

Your phone drops out of your pocket as you move to sit next to Paul.

Kim moves to pick it up, she steals a discreet look at the notification that came across your screen. This action goes unnoticed as she stretched her phone out to you.

As much as didn’t want to, you mutter out a thanks. Paul moves your body to plop you onto his lap.

“Congratulations, by the way. Paul told us about your upcoming trip.” Jared tells you with a supportive smile. You gladly tell him thanks.

“What trip?” Kim asks. You say nothing as Sam just says, “She’s been a graced a wonderful opportunity.”

“How come no one’s told me?” she questions but the looks that went her way let her know that she couldn’t have been serious.

“Because we didn’t.” Paul impatiently says to get to her to be quiet so he can focus back on the television.

She scoffs a bit as she says, “I’m sure she told Bella Swan all about it.”

“Are you serious right now?” Jared asks her. You felt a bit bad that he was feeling irritated. Noticing the slight change in his normal vibrant self, he seemed defeated and had no ounce of optimism left.

“I am. She drops me for some vampire lover. I’m offended.” she explains.

“Kim, if you’re not going to control yourself, you have to go. We’re choosing peace tonight.” Sam tells her.

Kim sits back with her arms folded like an immature child as the only thing that was left to be heard in the room was the action on the television.

You volunteer to fill the popcorn bowl to escape the tension. You missed being over here a lot and you tried your best to not let a certain someone ruin it for you.

You check your notifications and it was a proposition from Bella.

“My birthday is in a few days and was wondering if it could be just us if you’re still here. I don’t want to do anything over the top.”

You type back, seeing indeed that the month of September had arrived.

“I honestly would have to let you know.”

The microwave beeped as you pulled the hot bag out and carefully rip it open. You shuffle out the contents into the bowl and hold it as you make your way back into the living room.

You hand Emily the bowl as you let yourself fall gracefully onto Paul’s lap.

Paul’s hand had a mind of their own as the darkness hid him circling your belly. Leaning back further on him, you thought nothing of it.

His hips did one smooth shift as your body rolled with him, an electrifying feeling, shot through you.

It was a bold move as his hand never leave the spot he had it placed but you sit up a bit, still feeling him beneath you.

You catch a peak at his face when he stares back at you with audaciously.

“I think we’re going to head out. Paul could barely keep his eyes open.” you say as you watch his face slowly turns into a smirk.

“Aw? Already?” Emily asks crestfallen.

You “help” him up with your hand as he rises from his spot.

“You know the time for tomorrow, right?” Sam asks Paul.

Paul stretches his limbs out as he nods.

It was your turn to stretch the limbs of your arms. Your hands were filled with the wrinkled sheets that were tight under your grip.

Paul’s hands caressed the skin of your back as your body rocked back and forth on his sleek stiffness. It scraped deliciously in your insides as your breathe out as name. His grunts were heavy as he then whispered out, “Shittt.”

He pulls back and emptied himself on the sheets as his hand couldn’t catch all of himself.

As you fit a clean sheet on the bed, you speak out with mellowness, “We shouldn’t do it raw anymore.”

He takes a glance at you as he speaks back, “Why? You don’t like how it feels?”

A heated feeling in your cheeks scorched as you smooth out the side that you tucked, “N-no. I mean, I do.”

“Then what’s wrong?” he chuckles a bit as he tosses a pillow onto the bed.

“You almost came in me.” you tell him in a small voice, you both have been intimate many times but talking about sex with him still brought shy, fluttery feelings.

“I always pull out in time.” he says with confidence.

“It only takes one time. And you didn’t …One time.” you say as you remembered the time when you woke up to both of you still intertwined. You’ve never felt so amalgamated with him. As vice as it seemed, it felt so good.

“I can smell when you’re ovulating.” he says casually and lays back on his side of the bed, looking to you to join him.

“I just don’t.. Want any mistakes.” you tell him cautiously as you cover yourself with the large cover.

“Do you want any mistakes, someday?” He asks as he pulls you to snuggle against his warmth.

“I don’t know. At least, not now.” you tell him with gentle shrug. You then look to him to watch his face, which was full of contentment. “What about you?” you ask him.

“To be honest, yeah.” he says and you feel trapped in his gaze as the honest truth shone through. He then reached over to turn the lamp off.

Early the next morning, you decided to take it easy by staying in. It was raining hard and the wet leaves stuck to the sidewalk and the streets.

It’s been a while since you’ve used your good paint and just went to work on a wooden canvas that you forgot you had. Halfway through making the inchoate, rainy, autumn scenery, you’ve decided to give this as a gift to Bella.

After you spread clear varnish onto your work, you decided to check your email.

A subject message stops you dead in your tracks.

The name alone stopped you in your tracks.

ALICE CULLEN

SURPRISE PARTY INVITE !

Not even clicking on it, you scroll. There was just no way you were going that deep.

Clicking on another inbox message, John had sent your ticket. You check the dates and see that you’re going to be gone for an entire week. You’ve also seen that you were leaving two days after Bella’s birthday. Sitting back with your arms crossed, you look at her gift.

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