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berryhobii · 1 year ago

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Baby Mama Drama(jjk x reader)

Pairing: BabyDaddy!Jeon Jungkook x BabyMama!Female!Reader

Word Count: 3.2K+

Warnings: reader and Jungkook coparent, they have a daughter who is mentioned but doesn’t appear in the story, reader and Jungkook technically aren’t together but they still love each other and fool around🥴, reader irritates the hell out of JK but he can’t stay mad at them, reader is definitely a little toxic, Smut(18+ but I don’t control what you consume), oral(m and f receiving), 69 position, the sloppiest of top, face riding, fingering, reverse cowgirl, reader rides like a pro, missionary, reader has a tattoo🤭, reader is also dragging that wagon, reader also also has that certified WAP, reader is flexible, squirting, unprotected s*x(don’t do this and then turn into this couple), creampie, dirty talk, one face slap, multiple ass slaps like seriously JK is obsessed with reader’s badonk a donk, a little degradation and a dash of dumbification

A/N: I’M BACK EVERYONE!🥳for anyone who didn’t read my last post, my tumblr was suspended for a little while so that’s why I wasn’t posting. Anyway, it’s over so I’m back to work. This is a piece inspired by @joonberriess and their Sleazy!JK storyline. Shoutout to them. I love everything about the way they write JK and reader so definitely check them out if you haven’t already! Their stories make me want a sleazy baby daddy who can’t leave me the hell alone but I know I’ll never be able to handle that in real life so fictional is good enough for me!🤣this fic is just kind of a reverse of theirs where I made reader a sleazy and jealous baby mama. I know this kind of behavior is a stereotype among the black community but I am in no way condoning it. It’s just fiction and meant to be entertaining. Anyway, please let me know what you guys think as I am always open to criticism and please look forward to my upcoming posts! Much love and thanks for reading 🤎🤎🤎

“So, do you have any kids?”

Taking a sip of his drink, Jungkook nodded. “Yeah, one. A daughter. You?”

“Two. Their father is an absolute nightmare though. Thank goodness we have a court order. I can’t even be in the same room as him without wanting to pull all my hair out.” She bitterly laughed with a shake off her head, tossing the rest of her drink back. “What about you? Is your child’s mother a monster?”

Jungkook titled his head, a strained chuckle leaving him. “Um, well she’s…..something.”

The woman hummed. “I get it. A real bitch, huh? I hate women like that. Ones who can’t let their baby daddy’s go and are somehow always around. So annoying. Like don’t you have something better to do?”

“Yeah and I do it 4 times a week in my Queen sized bed.”

Jungkook stiffened at the sound of that familiar voice. There was only one person he knew that spoke that crassly to strangers.

The scent of your perfume and the smell of the mousse you used on your braids invaded his space and solidified that shit was about to go downhill.

The woman, who’s name he don’t think he ever caught, made a noise of surprise once you appeared before her. Your body stood right between her and Jungkook, forcing her to step back a little. Arms crossed over your chest and hip cocked out to the side, your eyes roamed up and down this woman’s body in a scrutinizing manner.

“And who are you?”

Leaning back a little, you plopped yourself right on Jungkook’s lap.

Looking her up and down once more, you answered simply with a big smile, “I’m unimpressed. Nice to meet you.”

Ignoring you for a moment, the woman looked around you to make eye contact with Jungkook who was shooting her a look that screamed, “please walk away!” She didn’t really understand what was going on. Who were you and why did you walk into their conversation on 10 like that? It was one thing to interrupt a conversation but to be that disrespectful to someone you didn’t even know? That didn’t go down well in her book.

Copying your previous stance, the woman replied, “Well I’m unimpressed with your attitude. Didn’t your mother ever teach you any manners?”

“No but she taught me to how to wrap a bitch’s hair around my wrist and keep swinging until my arm gets tired.” Your smile was sugary sweet but your words cut deep like knives. The woman was stunned. No one has ever spoken to her this way and it was a rude awakening. She didn’t even know how to respond.

Not wanting to see you demonstrate your mother’s teachings, Jungkook quickly stood to his feet. “Well, we should really be going. It was nice meeting you. Let’s go.” He grabbed your arms to start pushing you away from the woman.

“No it wasn’t!” You called out, both of you leaving the shocked woman by herself.

Once you two had made it outside, Jungkook’s frustration boiled over.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Why is it everytime I meet someone, you show up and scare them off? We aren’t together anymore. Is it not getting through your head? Like what the hell-“

His rant was flying right over your head because all you could focus on was how unbelievably sexy he looked today. How dare he walk outside like that? And he was going to waste all of that on some random stranger in a bar? Yeah right. Not as long as you had a say about it.

Your greedy eyes trailed from the top of his head to those bulging veins in his neck and down to his soft cock that was pressing against his jeans. Whew, just imaging that monster had your panties sticking to you. It was so big and warm and when he was giving you back shots…..

“Are you listening to me?”

You blinked a few times, your eyes slowing raising until they met the searing glare of your baby daddy.

“Uh yeah. Something about airline prices. So what are you doing tonight?”

Jungkook couldn’t fucking believe you. God you pissed him off to no end but he always had a way of letting off some steam.

“Let’s go. Now.”

“Yes sir.” You purred with that mischievous glint in your eye. Jungkook’s own eye twitched at the implications behind your tone but he decided to ignore it in favor of turning around to begin walking to his car, you hot on his heels and a Cheshire like grin on your face because you were getting what you wanted.

The drive back to his place was quiet, as was the ride up the elevator and the living room as he moved to sit down. He didn’t even raise his eyes to look at you once since you got in the car. Although you could see right through his petty act.

Flopping down on the couch next to him, your head leaning against your hand, you said, “come on, baby. You’re not still mad at me, are you? I said I’m sorry.”

No answer.

Moving closer to him, your hand trailed over his chest and up to his face to turn his head to face you, lips just centimeters apart. This wouldn’t be the first time you were on the receiving end of his heated glare and it certainly wouldn’t be the last but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on.

“What do I have to say for you to forgive me? I hate when you’re mad at me, baby.”

“Then stop doing shit that pisses me off and I won’t be.” He fired back, that low tone of his sending shocks down your spine.

“I’m sorry. Now let me make it up to you.” He could pick up on that sultry voice anywhere and those bedroom eyes you were currently shooting him was a dead giveaway as well.

He rolled his eyes. “You need to stop expecting dick everytime you come over here. It’s not gonna fix anything.”

Gasping dramatically, you moved back a little to hold a hand to your chest in faux offense. “You wound me, tater tot. I came here with pure intentions to apologize to you. Can a woman not apologize to her baby daddy without him thinking she has an ulterior motive?”

An unimpressed look crossed Jungkook’s face from your dramatics and from that stupid pet name you gave him all those years ago.

“Whatever.” He mumbled. “Fine. I accept your apology. Just don’t do it again.” A warning that fell on deaf ears because yeah, you’d definitely do it again if needed but for now, you’d bask in his forgiveness.

“Thank you, baby. You know I only want to make you happy.”

“You do,” he whispered, those doe eyes lifting to connect with yours.

Your lips met, your hands pushing Jungkook back against the arm of the couch to climb into his lap. He went willingly, melting into your touch and the feeling of your plump lips. His own hands traveled up your thighs to squeeze at the plushness of your ass, his grip forcing your covered cunt to rub against his growing erection.

His grunts mixed with your low hum of pleasure as you grinded against one another but Jungkook could only tolerate about a minute of that before he started getting impatient.

Groaning against your lips, he struggled out a, “fuck. Sit it on already.”

The sounds of your giggles made him pause, eyes cracking open and his eyebrow raising because what the hell was so funny?

“Oh nothing.” You said as if reading his mind. “I just remember a very certain someone saying not to expect dick everytime I come here yet that same person is telling me to sit on his dick. How the tables have turned.”

Rolling his eyes yet again, Jungkook suddenly heaved himself up, forcing you backwards. Your giggles increased, the contagion of your amusement finally breaking him and stretching a full blown smile across his face.

“You’re so goofy.”

“Then do something about it, Mickey.”

In a show of strength that turned your panties from a pool into a water park, Jungkook heaved you over his shoulder, hand coming down on the fat of your ass.

“I’ll do something about it alright.”

Once you made it to the bedroom, Jungkook tossed you down onto the bed and was about to climb on top of you but you were a little quicker. Grabbing his arm, you pulled him down until he was flat on his back with you straddling his waist—his hard cock pressed right against your clothed cunt, just waiting to be released.

Leaning down, you captured him in another kiss while he captured your ass in his grip.

“Damn I love this ass….” He murmured into your lip lock which made you giggle.

After deeming him throughly kissed, you sat up to take in his flushed face and reddened lips. Perfect.

“Forgive me yet?”

He hummed, fingers playing with the hem of your top. “Maybe after you take this off.”

Ever so compliant, you gripped both sides of your shirt and pulled it over your head to reveal your bare breasts to Jungkook. His eyes could have popped out of his head, the groan he let out a mixture of arousal and slight irritation.

“You’re not wearing a bra?”

Shrugging one shoulder, you simply answered, “I knew I was coming here. What’s the point? Do you want to know if I’m wearing underwear?” That cheeky smile answered the question for him and it only sunk him further into the already unhealthy infatuation he had with you.

Gripping your ass, he roughly grinded your cunt down on his erection. The friction made both of you gasp, the air starting to feel electric as desperation began eating at both of you.

It didn’t take long for both of you to undress each other. Jungkook helped you wiggle out of those tiny shorts you wore, letting out a curse as a little drip of sticky arousal snapped back against your inner thigh. Sitting up, he grabbed the back of his shirt to pull it over his head and toss it somewhere in the room. Now you could feast your eyes on the hard planes of his body and trace your fingers those intricate tattoos that marked up his skin.

Leaning down once again, you trailed kisses from that sweet spot on his neck, down his chest and over his abs until you reached your destination. Your eyes never left his as you began your descent, hands tugging at the waistband of his jeans to pull them down and Jungkook helped kick them off. You licked your lips at the sight of Jungkook’s hard cock slapping against his abs once you freed it from the confines of his pants . He could see that hungry look in your eye, smirking as he took hold of his erection and began lightly pumping it; a motion that drove you fucking crazy was watching him stroke himself. It just did something to you.

“You want it, bug?” He teased to which you nodded frantically.

“Yes, baby. Give it to me.” Opening your mouth, you held your tongue out to lick at it, Jungkook hissing at the contact. He slapped it against your wet muscle a few times before letting the tip slip in your mouth. You immediately wrapped your lips around it, suckling at it like a desperate whore. Which you were but only for him. No one else could make you act like this.

You replaced his hand with your own, licking and spitting all over his cock to lubricate it. Taking him down your throat, you began bobbing your head up and down, making sure to twist your wrist just the way he liked it.

Jungkook let out a series of low moans, curses, and the tiniest of whines everytime you went down. One hand gripped at the ponytail you put your braids up in and one hand behind his head, he let you take the lead. You knew just how he liked it, just the way to flick your wrist and tighten your throat to throw him over the edge in minutes.

Coming off him with a wet cough, you continued to stroke his cock, your spit soaking your own hand but that only helped the glide. Your hazy and hungry eyes stared right into his, your chin and mouth soaked in saliva. “I love this cock so fucking much.” You gasped before taking it back down your throat and bobbing your head.

Tossing his head back, Jungkook let out a strangled moan, forcing your head down. You let him, of course, relaxing your throat so he could fuck up into your mouth.

“Come sit on my face, baby. Right fucking now.” He demanded.

Pulling off him a little, you maneuvered your body until your pussy was right over his face—69 style. He gripped both of your ass cheeks in his palms, pulling you down until he could suck your neglected clit into his mouth.

You let out a sharp gasp around his cock, finally getting some type of relief. Sucking his cock made you a different type of horny and he could see that with the way your cunt was dripping.

His mouth and tongue started going crazy, ravenous as he alternated between sucking and licking, making sure to dip his tongue in your opening every once in a while. His hands continued to slap and grip at your ass, one wandering sometimes to pull your slippery lips apart so he could really get in there.

His hand trailed down from your ass to your tight opening, squeezing a finger into your spasming walls. He located that sweet spot with practiced ease, slipping in another finger in beside it and stretching your snug cunt open. The squelching of your walls was like music to his ears, adding to the salacious ‘gluck gluck’ noises your throat was making as you swallowed his cock.

Since you were horny on your way here, it didn’t take long for that feeling to start burning hot in your belly.

You pulled off his cock but continued to stroke him, your cheek resting against his thigh as high pitched moans left your lips.

Jungkook flattened his tongue, his grip on your ass guiding you to rut against his face. The fat of your ass almost suffocated him but Jungkook couldn’t imagine going out any other way. He hooked his fingers right into your gspot, your eyes rolling back and head hanging low as you used him for your pleasure.

“Oh yes! Oh yes, daddy! You’re gonna make me cum!” Lifting your head, you took his cock back into your mouth, burying it all the way to the hilt in your throat. Jungkook’s hips jumped, him groaning against your clit, the vibrations sending shocks right through you.

A few swallows around his cock and a few more jabs to that spot inside of you and both of you were cumming. Your body tensed, hips rutting faster against his face to ride it out. He thrusted his hips up once, twice, three times before letting out a drawn out moan as he pumped his release down your waiting throat. Your body shivered as buzzing pleasure raced down your back and to your toes. You don’t think you’ve had an orgasm like that since…….three days ago when Jungkook ate you out in his car after he had to pick you up because you forgot to get gas.

Amazing car head aside, the party wasn’t over yet.

“Sit on it, bug. Hurry.” Jungkook rushed you, tapping your ass a few times, his breath labored and tone dripping with desperation.

Good thing you were just as eager because you crawled forward on your weak knees until he was lined up with your entrance. Reaching between your legs, you held his wet cock steady as you slid down on it. Jungkook’s hands held your ass cheeks apart to watch, eyes blurring slightly as your hot, tight, and gushing walls wrapped around him. You weren’t faring much better, your head knocking back as his thick cock stretched you to your limits. It didn’t matter how many times you had taken his cock, the pure g i r t h always knocked the breath out of you. This is why you couldn’t leave him alone, his cock was just too fucking good. You’d be damned if you ever let someone else take it from you.

Once you were settled to the hilt, your body leaned all the way forward to rest between his legs and you began bouncing your ass on his cock.

Jungkook was mesmerized by how your fat ass rippled and moved against his pelvis. At this moment, he didn’t give a damn how many women you threatened or how much you pissed him off; just the sight of your ass and the feeling of your juicy cunt wrapped around him was enough to make him remember another reason why he couldn’t let you the hell go. He loved your pussy too much. And if that wasn’t enough, the sight of that tiny ‘♡JK’ tatted on your left ass cheek certainly let him know.

Jungkook’s hands came down to slap repeatedly on your bouncing ass. “Faster baby. Fuck, this ass is so good!” The seat of your ass was wet from a combination of spit and cum, the wet slapping noises filling the space. Your moans were in competition with the clapping of your ass, your cheek pressed against the sheets and your nails digging into his calves.

“Ahhh! This cock is so b-big,” you whine, “love it so much…..right there….! Oohhhh-ohhhh fuck!”

Lifting up a little and adjusting your knees to a better position, you began throwing yourself down on his cock, the head brushing against every spot you had and sending you reeling. You’d come all the way up until just the tip was inside before slamming back down, the bed shaking underneath the force. Jungkook’s toes curled, your cunt gripping him tighter than a vice.

He was about 98% sure his soul left his body, eyes rolling and head knocking back against the pillows as his lungs struggled for air.

Not able to hold it anymore, Jungkook was quickly flipping your positions. Now it was your turn to be on your back, your legs spread in a wide V shape, his cologne invading your senses and his lips covering yours. He was everywhere, all over you. Your skin was on fire from his touch, sweat soaking your back and air becoming sparse as he kissed away what little oxygen you had left. You were obsessed with him. He was yours as you were his. Nothing would ever change that.

His cock buried itself back into your walls, a deep moan of pleasure getting caught in your throat once he began jackhammering into you. Your hands gripped the bottom of your feet, keeping them apart so he could continue to plow into your soft spot. His hips moved like a well oiled machine, making noisy contact with your ass with every thrust.

Your mouth dropped open, “oh my…..fffucking g-god…!” Tears welled up in your eyes as blinding pleasure spread over every nerve in your body.

Jungkook grunted, his own pleasure peaking at the sight of your fucked out face.

“Yeah? You about to cum? Are you gonna what the fuck I say and stop acting so fucking jealous? Huh?” Drool dripped down the sides of your mouth as you tried to form sentences but hurried ‘yes yes yes’ were the only words you could manage. “How many times do I have to fuck you before you get that through your thick head? I only want you. Fuck you push my fucking buttons but I know it’s just because you want me to fill up this tight cunt, isn’t that right?” A slap came across your cheek, orgasm crashing into your body without warning from the sudden strike.

Jungkook could feel wetness soaking his pelvis and cock, jaw tightening as he began moving even harder—the headboard knocking into the wall so hard that he doesn’t think he’ll get his security deposit back for this place.

“Juicy fucking cunt squirting all over me. Mhmmmm….I’m gonna fill this pussy up. You want that? Want me to send you home with my cum running down your legs?”

Your ears were ringing, his dirty talk propelling you right into another endless orgasm, your toes curling in the air as blissful overstimulation began to take over.

Jungkook wasn’t far behind, a few more thrusts and he was burying himself deep in your sopping cunt. His cock throbbed inside you, the thickness pressing right into your abused gspot. Your hands released your feet to scramble against his back, sharp acrylics digging into his skin and making him hiss in slight pain.

“Ohhhhhh shittttttt….fuck baby,” He groaned out as he pumped creamy ropes inside your clenching pussy, your spasming walls sucking him in and milking him for everything he was worth.

Both of you collapsed from exhaustion, Jungkook’s face planting itself in your breasts and your legs falling weakly to the bed with a light thump. Only the sounds of your heavy breathing filled the room, both of your hearts beating wildly as you two came down.

“So am I forgiven?” You asked as you two soaked in the tub, the scent of an apple scented bath bomb wafting around the room.

Jungkook was behind you, head leaned back against the wall as he tried not to fall asleep. “I guess so. Just stop doing that, okay? It’s so embarrassing.”

“Deal.”

A beat of silence washed over the room, just the sound of water lapping against the sides of the tub filling the space.

“One more time.” You suddenly said.

“Huh?”

“You asked me how many times do you have to fuck me before I get it through my thick head to stop being jealous. I think one more will do the trick.”

Jungkook let out a chuckle, opening his eyes only to find your beautiful irises staring back at him with that playful and lustful glint.

“You’re impossible.” He scoffed with an endearing shake of his head.

“But you love me.”

“Yeah, I do.”

#bts #bts x black reader #bts smut #bts fic #bts imagines #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook

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yourlocalzombiewriter · 8 months ago

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And I don't even like you that much!

Wait…, I do…, fuck

(Black myth wukongs head-canons)

Author note: hi!, I’m not that use to writing and English is not exactly my first language so there might be a lot of spelling mistakes.

And this is my first time writing for Sun wukong (Black myth) so he might not seem in character, if that makes sense. Either way I hope you enjoy!

★ ✵ ★

Assuming you two are already dating, and he’s comfy around you, please prepare for some chaotic moments.

Not a single Moment is dry nor empty with this mischievous monkey.

From spooking you with a clone of himself, or annoying your with one of his many transformations, he never runs out of ideas to surprise you with.

That being said, he is a bit laid back now depending on what period you’re dating him. After the events of journey to the west, he is way more calmer then his “younger” self.

He enjoys the simplicity of day to day activities now, cuddling, cleaning up a small section in which you both share. Or laying out under a tree with you as you read to him.

Those small moments mean much more to him now.

He loves to pridefully declare his fearlessness and having no such thing as “a biggest fear”. But at night that’s quickly disproven, sometimes he uncharacteristically sits in silence. Mind making up fake scenarios of your demise that could have been caused by him, his reputation, his enemies. He has a silent vow to himself to protect you first with his immortal life, no matter the cost and punishment he may endure.

An uncomfortable fear of having something of value so precious, so fragile is almost to much to handle. He doesn’t look down upon you mortal or not, but he will still fret for your safety. He’s so tired of losing things he holds dear, and after not having that feeling for centuries before you came along, he almost gets so wrapped up in the possibility of losing you, he loses sight that he has you right now.

He loves picking you up at random times, doesn’t need to be a situation where you need to be picked up he’ll just do it. No matter height or weight he loves seeing you shocked and giggling.

His most sensitive parts are definitely his tail and ears, maybe his nose too. If you kiss him from ear all across his cheek to his nose, he swears all his immortal lives end there from how his hearts pumping.

He does plan on marrying you, makes it very vocal too in the beginning to make sure you know what your committing to.

Loves when you comb and pick at his fur, don’t even get started on complementing it. He’ll easily sit between your legs for hours as you comb through the top of his head, getting rid of knots and such.

He wraps his tail absentmindedly when you stand near him. He doesn’t really even acknowledge it happening, it usually wraps around your ankle or thigh Or lazily around your hips.

Watches you as you sleep, not even in a creepy way he just has to take time to appreciate you for just your mere existence.

Spoils you with fruits, peaches especially of course, but he mixes it up here to there. Sometimes he just comes waltzing in with buckets if not wagons of ripe fruit from different regions.

When you hurriedly say you cannot eat that much before they wither, he’ll just laugh. Because he knows he can so whatever you leave over he finishes it off happily. But if your generous your free to share with the other demon monkeys on the island.

He likes carrying you in his arms while he rides his nimbus cloud.

You can point to random spots and he’ll happily zoom on over there to let you explore. Of course with him trailing closely behind you.

(I’m aware that in most tellings of journey to the west they say picking up a mortal from the ground is almost impossible, but I’m gonna dismiss that. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°))

He likes lounging around with you on slow afternoon’s cuddling and engorging in different types of luxuries.

He loves taking you to hot springs, and enjoying time there together relaxing. That or a near by waterfall he frequents.

If he sees something you may like he just snatches it, doesn’t really matter to him where he took it, half of the time he doesn’t know himself. As long as it is worthy to be appreciated by you.

He takes naps on you, just asks you to lay down and then lays on your chest or stomach and falls into a comatose state for a good while.

★ ✵ ★

That’s all I have for right now, I hope these were enjoyable to read!.

( ⸝⸝•ᴗ•⸝⸝ )੭⁾⁾

#x reader #black myth wukong #sun wukong x reader #jttw sun wukong #general headcanons #romantic headcanons #first writing #i hope you like it #sorry for poor spelling #sun wukong #x reader headcanons #wukong x reader #sun wukong x y/n #wukong x y/n #x you #x y/n #jttw

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tenessee-walker · 2 months ago

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PLZ I LOVE YOUR WRITINGGGGG GRRRAAHHHH Domestic hcs with Arthur and gn!Reader?? Who cooks more often, how does their dynamic change from being in the gang to having a home etc.!

LUV THISSSS

mentioned Arthur and y/n having kids but no mention of GETTING pregnnat

domestic!arthur who finally leaves the gang with you after too many sleepless nights spent staring at the stars, wondering if this life would ever give you both a chance to breathe. One night, he just looks at you — really looks at you — and says, “Let’s go. Just you ‘n me.” And you know he means it.

domestic!arthur who rides with you in complete silence, his hand resting on your thigh while you both leave the chaos of the gang behind. Every now and then, he looks over at you, eyes soft and distant, and just murmurs, “We’ll be alright. I promise.”

domestic!arthur who spends every last bit of money he’s saved on a small, rundown cabin just outside of Valentine. It’s falling apart, the roof leaks when it rains, and the floorboards creak—but when he looks at you standing on the porch, smiling like you finally have a home, he swears it’s the most beautiful place he’s ever seen.

domestic!arthur who fixes up the cabin with his bare hands. Splitting wood for the fire, patching up holes in the roof, hammering together a kitchen table—he does it all without complaint. And every time you offer to help, he just grins and says, “Ain’t no way I’m lettin’ you do the heavy liftin’, darlin’.”

domestic!arthur who stands back after a long day of work, hands on his hips, shirt soaked in sweat, and just smileswhen he sees you arranging flowers on the kitchen table. “Looks real nice, sweetheart,” he murmurs, before walking over and kissing your temple like it’s second nature.

domestic!arthur who constantly calls you darlin’, sweetheart, and love without even realizing it. The second you two started building a life together, it just became natural. Like it was always meant to be.

domestic!arthur who holds you so, so tight every night in bed. His arm always slung over your waist, his nose buried in your hair, and his voice low and gruff when he murmurs, “Don’t think I ever slept this good in my whole life.”

domestic!arthur who absolutely melts the first time you suggest planting a little garden out back. “Yeah? What d’you wanna grow?” he asks, already smiling as he pictures you in the dirt, hands covered in soil, looking happier than you ever did in the gang.

domestic!arthur who catches you staring at him sometimes—watching the way his forearms flex when he chops wood or how his brow furrows when he’s fixing something—and he just grins. “What? Y’like watchin’ me work?” And you always roll your eyes, but he knows you do.

domestic!arthur who keeps saying “I oughta build ya a proper house one day.” And you always tell him the little cabin is enough, but he means it. Someday, he wants to build you a place so perfect you never want to leave.

domestic!arthur who can’t stop talking about kids once you settle into home life. At first, it’s little comments—“Kids’d love a place like this,” or “Reckon I’d make a half-decent pa.” But then one night, while you’re curled up on his lap in front of the fire, he just says it plain as day. “Y’ever think about havin’ little ones?”

domestic!arthur who blushes like crazy when you smile and say, “With you? Always.” He stares at you for a long moment, like he’s trying to memorize your face, and then he just kisses you—hard. Like he can’t believe he got this lucky.

domestic!arthur who starts carving little wooden toys in secret once you agree to start trying for kids. Little horses, tiny wagons, a small dog figurine—he keeps them tucked away under the bed like a secret. “Don’t wanna jinx it,” he mutters when you find them.

#arthur morgan x you #rdr2 arthur #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan #red dead redemption two #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #rdr1 #rdr #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 fanfic

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frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe · 7 months ago

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@steddie-spooktober day 7: skeleton | G | wc: 641

“You said it’s in your closet?”

“Yeah!” Eddie calls back from the living room. “It should be on the…left? Side?”

“‘Kay!” Steve yells back.

He’s been over helping Eddie pack up his things from the trailer. It’s October already and the fall semester has started for Robin up in Chicago; now that Steve knows the shitheads are set for the new school year, Mike being the first of the group to get his licence (AND was willing to be taught by Steve so he at least knows Mike will be (somewhat) safe) to cart them all around in the Wheelers’ station wagon… he’s following her there officially.

Eddie is too, decided to tag along and “Get out of what’s left of Wayne’s hair.” as he put it.

So here they are, packing up Eddie’s things and shuttling some of Wayne’s back into the single bedroom of the trailer.

“Green suitcase, green suitcase,” Steve mutters to himself, a reminder of what he needs to be looking for in the bedroom closet.

As soon as he reaches the bedroom door, he hears the front one creak open, Eddie greeting Wayne with a “Careful old man, I can’t afford a hip replacement if you trip over my crap.”

Wayne’s soft snort of laughter is drowned out by the squeal of the metal-on-metal of Eddie’s closet door, and the loud “JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!” Steve let out at the sight before him.

Clutching his chest where his heart is hammering him to death from within, Steve looks up at the, what he can now tell is completely fake, skeleton hanging from the bar inside the closet.

“Steve! What the hell are you screaming abou— Ha! Wayne~!” he calls over his shoulder, “You got Steve!”

“Damn..” Steve hears Wayne mutter before yelling back, “Well if you’re gonna keep datin’ him, he better start learning our traditions.”

Steve freezes.

Eddie freezes (halfway back out of the closet with the skeleton dangling from his hand).

‘Am I that obvious?’ they each think to themselves.

Another beat passes, and Steve is the one to reply, “Not fair Wayne, The next time you get a scare like that, we’ll be putting you in an early grave!”

Wayne barks out a laugh, and goes back to whatever clinking around with his mug he was doing before.

Steve watches Eddie’s face fill with color. His heart is still beating a little too fast. “Listen, Eddie–”

“Good one Steve-o,” Eddie says, hurriedly, tossing the plastic skeleton back onto the now bare mattress before going back in for the suitcase, “Old man jokes will always land in this house.”

“Eddie, listen,”

“No need, Harrington, It was just an old man joke. Ha! See? Still funny.” Eddie’s face is almost purple.

“I’d love to date you, Eddie.” Steve says to the back of Eddie’s head, plain and simple. “This isn’t exactly how I wanted to break the news to you that I did but uh.. Yeah.”

Eddie finally turns back around, confusion almost dripping off his face. “You, Steve Harrington, want to date me. As in me, Eddie Munson, flunkie dealer trailer trash?”

“No, I want to date Eddie Munson, hot piece of ass metalhead with a big heart.”

Eddie drops the suitcase and pinches the exposed skin of his other arm. Hard.

“That… had to hurt.”

“It did, yeah.”

He drops his arm, continuing to stare at Steve like he was some sort of creature in a tank.

“You gonna say anything or am I gonna have to guess? ‘Cause let me tell you, man, I don’t have that great of a track record with things like th—”

Eddie finally puts Steve out of his misery and cuts off his rambling. “Don’t call me ‘man’ when I’m about to kiss you stupid.”

Steve blinks, “Okay.”

That plastic skeleton is known as Wingman from then on.

skull/skeleton lace dividers by @saradika HERE

#i've been doing a lot of first kisses/getting together for these prompts lmao #steddie #steddiespooktober #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington x eddie munson #steveddie #eddeve #noelle writes #wayne munson #the munsons my beloveds

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fanaticsnail · 9 months ago

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Teach Me

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 1,000+

Synopsis: As a Dressrosian concubine, you were accustomed to receiving all kinds of clients. The one you looked forward to the least was Doflamingo. Not because of who he was or what he's done. Simply for one reason. He was bad at sex, and you were bored.

Warnings: Doflamingo x afab!reader, 18+, NSFW, MDNI, smut, missionary, Doflamingo only cares about himself, you are so bored, you are a concubine, minor choking, mocking, eye rolling, dub con (you're a concubine, but the sex is just not good).

Notes: my attempt at trying to get @bloglop and @discordantwritings on the Doflamingo band wagon.

Doflamingo is not the most thoughtful lover. His satisfaction has always been too priority. Never a thought about his past lovers’ and concubines’ satisfaction in the slightest, he'd rake his cock in and out of any orifice that takes his fancy.

And then there was you.

Defiant little you.

The ‘you’ that absolutely did not care whether you lived or died as he pummelled his cock into your plush pussy. The ‘you’ that was unashamed to roll your eyes and check your wristwatch for the time as he was balls deep in your slick heat. The ‘you’ that was bored as hell while he crudely attempted to cum in your tight little body.

The crude squelching of lube on his cock as his hips slapped against yours, alongside the gruff huffs and pants falling from his lips were the only sounds to ricochet off the walls and reverberate with the rock of the mattress. Every time he looked at that bored face of yours, he fell away from the edge that he was desperately trying to meet.

“F-Fuck, why can't-...?” He groaned, feeling his edge fall away from the pinnacle for the forth time since starting this session.

“Why can't you cum, or why can't I be bothered to fake it like all the others?” You utter, examining your cuticles and ignoring the sharp thrust Doflamingo pressed into you. Doflamingo growled, looking down and hovering his face over yours.

“Fake it?” He growled, “What do you mean, fake it? I'm a god at this.” That confession had you bite back a laugh, shaking your head and simply brushing aside his exclamation.

“Sorry, okay, let me just,” you wiggled your shoulders against the mattress, contorting your eyebrows in the center of your forehead and hitching your voice into a mewling whine, “Oh, fuck! Right there, right there! So good! Nghm-! Don't stop!”

Doflamingo’s eyes widened, his lips curling back into a snarl as you echoed the words and expressions of what he was accustomed to meeting. Fluttering your eyelashes and readjusting your body to its former position, you glared up at the towering man and smirked up at him.

“That what you're looking for?” You asked him, arching your brow and bowing your back to stretch it out beneath him. “Sorry, but this is so shit, I'd be more inclined to ‘boo’ in your ear than compliment you-.”

Doflamingo cut you off by bringing his large hand to circle around your neck, attempting to cut off the air supply to halt your words. You simply smirk back up at him, shrugging your shoulders and acting completely nonchalant about it.

You should be gasping for air, pleading for your life, begging him for his hot cum like all of the rest… But you weren't. You were looking right into his eyes and simply bored. That boredom and nonchalant glare had him seeing red. All anger and hatred pricking his skin and igniting a fire in the pit of his belly.

Did they all fake it? Was he not as good at this as he thought? How many others has he left sore and unsatisfied? Those absolute liars. How dare they!

Removing his cock from your pussy in one quick motion, he released your neck from his grip and sat you up by grasping your shoulder. Arching your brows in curiosity, your eyes briefly wince at the sting of your ill prepared pussy taking the abusive thrusts from the much larger man. As a concubine, it was your job to see things through to its end, and you were in a foul mood from being left unsatisfied by your three former clients.

You expected Doflamingo to kill you for this poor attitude you were demonstrating, and you just didn't care anymore. You'd had enough, and you were done with it.

Where you expected him to snap your neck and leave you to rot in your bed, you were met with the softest, feather light touch from the blonde against your hand. A whisper, barely audible to the ear, had your eyes growing wide in shock.

“Teach me.”

Taken aback, you recoiled your hand from his touch and shifted back towards the headboard of your bed. He turned to face you, crawling back over to your body and resting by your feet.

“Teach me, please,” he re-emphasized, looking over his glasses at you. The ruby hue of his orbs doeing in innocent circles almost made you want to vomit. Biting back the bile, you creased your brows and folded your arms over your chest.

“Now why should I do a thing like that?” you asked him, looking to where his hand gently caressed the top arch of your foot. The tender touch and the pleading eyes had you intrigued, but still guarded.

“Because I want to be a god at this,” he whispered softly, crawling up the mattress and tracing the contour of your shin up to your thigh. “I want to learn to give you pleasure. I want to be the one all of the whores in this house want to couple with.” He moved up the bed and drew his face closer to yours, “I want to be desired and longed for. I want to be the talk of the town for how much I can please a person.”

“And why should I be the one to teach you?” you ask, tilting your head to the side and looking at him through narrowed lenses, “Get someone else-?”

“-Because you're an honest little whore,” he whispered intimately, hovering his lips over yours, “And I want to wipe that boredom off your face and replace it with honest pleasure.” You roll your eyes at him and arch your face away from his.

“Why not just chase your own pleasure and leave like all the others?” you utter nonchalantly. He takes a moment to ponder, sighing and removing his ruby-hued glasses.

“Because I am not the ‘others’. I am Donquixote Doflamingo,” he professed. Placing his glasses to the side, he reached his hand up to cup your cheek. His expressive globes bore into your soul, his honesty and softness taking you slightly off guard.

“Now teach me how to please you so I can have you crying for me properly,” Doflamingo whispered against your lips, brushing them with his own in a soft and brief kiss. “Teach me how to make you scream. Teach me how to make you cum. I want it all. Teach me everything.”

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @sordidmusings @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane

#one piece #x reader #donquixote doflamingo #Doflamingo x reader #one piece smut #one piece x reader #x afab!reader #doflamingo

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uluvjay · 7 months ago

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Short Temper-K. Dach

Kirby Dach x fem! Reader

In which you and kirby both have a thing for choking!!

Warnings?; Unprotected sex(a big no no!!), choking(obvi), cursing, kinda mean kirby, mentions of a hockey fight, small bar scene, rough sex, porn with a plot tbh, sorry for any errors!

Day three of my kinktober special!

Kirby was mad, fuming even.

The game was horrible, his goal and assist meaning nothing to him when they still ended up losing 2-6. To make things worse he’d gotten into a fight early in the third, busting the scabs he already had on his knuckles from a previous fight, the cut on his cheek looking just as fresh.

And for some reason he accepted Arbers invitation to get a few drinks after the game however he only ended up more pissed off as the bar tender persistently flirted with you again and again despite your locked hands and Kirby’s last name that was painted on your Jean jacket.

The red crystals that you had added to the letters sparkled under the bars shitty lighting catching the eyes of many customers yet he still found the guys eyes glued to your ass in your tight jeans.

He called it an early night, bidding his few teammates that joined a goodbye after not even have three sips of his beer.

He dragged you to his expensive g-wagon, still opening your door like he always did but he wasn’t very nice to the car as he slammed the door with much more might then needed.

He didn’t speak a word as he got in on his side, resting a still slightly bloody hand on your thigh as he peeled down the busy streets of Montreal.

The ride was silent, the only sound filling the car was the sound of your mixed breathing. Finally pulling into his parking spot in the parking garage he moved to open his door when your hand moving towards your own handle caught his eye.

“Don’t” he snapped and you quickly obeyed by retracting your hand.

You waited for him to round the car, opening your door for you he gave you his hand as you exited the large car.

“You know I’ll always get the door for you, so don’t try it again.” He spoke with a sharp look towards you as you two made it into the parking garage’s elevator.

“Yes sir” you replied, a small smirk tugging on your lips as you playfully saluted him.

His hand that had been lingering behind you on the bar was quick to swat your ass, a yelp breaking from you at the contact.

“Kirby!” You scolded the brunette.

He did his best to hide it but you saw his lips twitch, no doubt trying to hold back a smirk at your reaction.

“Watch your mouth then.” He shrugged, stepping out of the metal box as it reached your floor and taking off down the hallway.

You were quick to follow behind, doing your best to keep up with his long strides you made it to his side just as he got the door unlocked.

Once the two of you got inside he went straight for your bedroom while you took your time taking your shoes and jacket off before following after him.

You found him stripping down by his hamper, admiring his toned body as he pulled the white button down off. His dress pants quickly followed, his thick thighs on display while his tight boxers did nothing to hide his very obvious boner.

“You like watching me get naked?” He piped up.

“Mhm, one of my favorite hobbies actually.” You teased as you moved past him into the closet to hang your jacket.

Coming back into the room you were stopped in your way by two large hands grabbing your hips, he didn’t speak as turned your body to face his and lifted your arms as he pulled your shirt off.

You felt your heart speed up as his eyes locked with yours, you didn’t dare to break his stare as his cold hands moved down your body to unbutton your jeans next.

You choked on a gasp as he dropped to his knees tugging the denim down with him, next to go was your panties. His thick fingers hooking around the thin lace as he pulled them down, smirking at the small damp spot that was present.

He stood back to his feet, fingers reaching around you to unhook your bra watching contently as it slid down your arms and onto the floor.

Dipping his head down his soft lips tickled your skin as he kissed along the side of your throat, stopping just below your ear.

“Well getting you naked is one of mine.”

You swear you felt your knees buckle slightly as he whispered against your skin, very thankful for his large hands that were resting on your waist.

Picking you up he carried you towards your bathroom, sitting your feet on the floor he moved to the shower turning on the water before opening the door.

“Coming?” He asked over his shoulder.

You’d never moved so fast in your life. Stepping in behind him you watched as he dipped his head back, letting the hot water soak his head.

You could see the tension slightly leave his body as the water relaxed his muscles. You were so caught in your head that you didn’t notice his hands moving towards you until your body was the one under the water.

His body was pressed against yours, arms wrapping around your front as his large hands moved up and down your stomach softly.

Your eyes caught his scabbed knuckles as flashbacks from earlier tonight filled your mind, the way he gripped the other player up by his jersey before laying a punch to the man’s face.

You hated that seeing him be so violent turned you on but there was no denying the throb that always formed between your thighs at the sight of him beating someone’s ass.

Especially after the way things ended up for you two after the last fight, how he wrapped his bloody hand around your throat and pinned you to the mattress.

It was the first time he’d ever choked you during sex but you knew it wouldn’t be the last, you got a taste of it and you were addicted.

“What’re you thinking about baby, I can feel how heavy you’re breathing.” He asked behind you.

“N-nothing.” You stuttered.

“Hmm, then why are your thighs rubbing together?” You could hear the smirk in his voice.

Fucking caught.

Turning your body in his arms you threw yours around his neck before pulling his lips down to meet yours.

He didn’t hesitate to kiss back, pushing your body against the marble wall of your shower he didn’t hesitate to push a thigh between yours.

You moaned at the feeling of his thick thigh against your clit, body shuddering at the feeling of him pressed against you.

His tongue fought against yours but you didn’t give up, nipping at his bottom lip you basked in his soft growl. You were giving his energy right back until you felt his strong grip at the base of your throat.

You pulled your lips from his sucking in a sharp breath as your eyes locked, a look of understanding between the two of you.

Within seconds you were back in his arms with your body pinned against the wall, legs wrapped around his waist, his body pressing into yours.

You wanted him, you really did-but not here.

“Bed Kirby.” You moaned as his lips sucked against your sweet spot.

He didn’t need to be told twice, switching the water off he had you two out of the shower and onto the bed without wasting a second.

He didn’t give a fuck that you two were soaked, he only cared about fucking you until the both of you passed out.

He laid you down on the pillows before crawling over your body, positioning himself between your thighs he hooked yours over his.

Running his cock through your soaked folds he watched as you flinched slightly from the sudden pleasure.

There wasn’t anything more in this world that he liked more than seeing how responsive your body was to him, the little ways you’d move or respond to his movements.

He pushed his cock into you slowly allowing you to get adjusted to his size before he began to fuck you.

His lips worked on your chest, lips switching from Brest to Brest as he sucked and nipped at them earning sweet moans from you.

Feeling you buck against him he knew you were ready, adjusting your thighs to be wrapped around his waist he pulled out of your tight cunt before pushing back with much more force than the first time.

You cried out at his sharp thrust, heading dropping back into the pillows as the hot pleasure consumed your body. It felt like you were on fire, every touch and caress from Kirby pushing you closer and closer to a blazing edge.

You watched the man above you as his own head was tipped back in pure bliss, taking his frustration of the evening out on your body just as you’d hoped he would.

“Fuck” he grunted, the feeling of you purposely clenching around his cock pulling him closer and closer to his climax.

His eyes snapped open as he heard a giggle from you scoffing in response his large hand wrapped around your throat as he pushed two of his fingers into your mouth.

He shook his head when you moaned around them, tongue moving around the digits as if they were his cock. He could feel you moaning around his fingers are he switched his pace, pressing his hips into you he fucked you so slow and deep.

You could feel every vein and ridge of his cock, your desperate cry’s for more drowned by his thick fingers he smirked as you did your best to move against him.

His spare hand pressed your hips into the mattress stilling your movements slightly as you weren’t strong enough to fight against him.

He didn’t give in, continuing to fuck you slow and steady he grunted when you clenched him tightly, your warm walls hugging him so tight.

It was only when he felt your teeth sink into his fingers did he knock it off, pulling his fingers from your mouth you drew in a sharp breath before speaking.

“Fuck me-please Kirby.” You begged, chin glistening with spit that his fingers were also coated in.

The sight of your messy appearance had Kirby ready to come then, the way your mascara was still running, your flushed and hot cheeks, messy hair and swollen lips.

He adjusted your position, hooking your ankles together around his back he wrapped a hand around your throat.

You weren’t sure what he was doing until soon your felt his hips start at an ungodly pace, words colliding in your throat as broken moans as hot pleasure consumed you once again.

“Shit! So good, so fucking good.” You cried into the air, nails dragging down his back causing him to hiss at the burn.

He sat up to pull you into a messy kiss, teeth colliding in a fight for dominance however what you weren’t expecting was the tightening of his hand on your throat when your teeth nipped his lip a little to hard.

Squeezing just enough to cause you to gasp before returning to his normal hold, the action causing a whole new wave of arousal to rush through your body.

He knew you were getting close when your thighs started to shake, your body arching into his as your moans got more incoherent by the second.

“F-ahh, Kirby!” You babbled but he didn’t need you to tell him, he knew you were coming and he was ready, right on the edge of his own climax.

“Go ahead baby, come for me like the good slut you are.” He cooed in your ear.

His free hand moved to your clit as his thumb circled around the sensitive bud, watched in admiration as your body shook below his.

Your mount dropped open in a loud moan as you arched off of the bed, your orgasm breaking through your body.

The way your walls hugged him brought him to his own climax, his thrusts slowing as his hips began to stutter and soon he was pressed against you as he came.

You moaned at the feeling of his warm cum filling you up, the sensation dirty but so so good.

His hand that was around your throat loosened as he collapsed on top of you, the exhaustion of the game and sex finally getting to him.

Neither of you cared as you both fell asleep right there, his cock still deep inside you as he cuddled close into your side.

You were the first to wake up, the bright sun filling your room causing a small groan to rise from your throat.

You moved to stretch but the weight over your body and the ache between your thighs had you stilling.

Looking down you found Kirby’s large body still pressed against yours, his head resting right below your boobs while he held you close.

Images from last night flooded your mind and you feel your cheeks heat up at the thought of what you two did.

You realized his cock was no longer inside of you and he was dressed in a pair of boxers while you were swallowed by one of his shirts.

Shaking him awake lightly he tried hiding his face in the pillows but you weren’t letting that happen.

“Kirby baby get up, we have to shower.” You cooed as you ran a hand through his hair.

“Why.” He groaned.

“We went to sleep right after having sex bubba, gotta get cleaned up.”

“Cleaned us up and got you dressed.” He mumbled again.

“I see that but we need a proper shower.” You laughed.

“Can we get a bath?” He asked as he finally picked his head up, eyebrow raised as he looked at you questioningly.

Realizing his body was probably sore you nodded and moved to get a bath started, pouring in some epsom salt that he used you let it fill up while you went to get him.

He fought slightly but finally complied and followed you into the bathroom, stripping off his boxers he got in first allowing you to lay against his chest.

You thought he was sleeping until he spoke up, “Sorry if I was a little to rough or mean last night. I was pissed about the game and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

You smiled at his words, dropping your head back you looked up at him sweetly.

“Trust me, I didn’t mind it. Not one bit.”

“I’m sure you didn’t.” He laughed slapping your thigh slightly as you both broke into giggles before relaxing in the bath until the water was cold.

#kirby dach smut #kirby dach x reader #kirby dach imagine #kirby dach #nhl #nhl blurb #nhl fluff #nhl smut #nhl x reader #nhl imagine #nhl fic #jays24kinktober

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dollyzdaydreamz · 17 days ago

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John Marston x Ballerina! Reader

All the Luck

Description: Set after the fall of the Van der Linde Gang. John Marston, aimless but trying, crosses paths with a ballerina who's also lost something. Both, in their own way, just try to make sense of what's left.

♡ inspired by rdr1 John’s personality :3

♡ fluff, sfw, kind of switches from John’s POV to Readers.

♡ no Jack or Abigail for obvious reasons lol

Warnings: mentions of injury, sickness.

The streets of town had long since gone quiet. It was that peculiar kind of late where the world felt like it was holding its breath, no chatter, no wagons, just the wind scraping softly along the dirt road and the creak of a sign swinging outside the saloon. The respectable folk were long home by now. What remained were the lonely, the reckless, and the men like John Marston, men who weren’t entirely sure which they were anymore.

He adjusted his hat, crossing the road with boots that left faint marks behind him. He’d just dropped off another sorry bounty, some thief who fought harder than he was worth, and now he was loitering, not so much searching for his next lead as he was avoiding going home. Whatever “home” meant these days.

Then he saw her.

She sat on the stone steps of the town’s modest theatre, a wilted thing in soft pink. Her legs were folded in, slippers still tied neatly around her ankles. A ballet costume, he guessed, clinging in places it shouldn’t in the cold as she was trembling. Her face was buried in her hands. Shoulders shaking.

John stopped like he’d hit a wall. He’d seen and walked past worse. But something about her stopped him dead in his tracks. Maybe it was the contrast, the delicacy of her attire in this godforsaken town, in a world that rarely had patience for anything soft. Or maybe it was the way her misery felt… private. And he was intruding just by looking.

Still, something rooted him to the spot.

He took a cautious step forward, slow like approaching a skittish animal, “Miss?”

She jolted and lifted her head slightly, and he faltered when her bloodshot and makeup smudged eyes met his,“What do you want?”

John lifted his hands so as to show he meant her no harm, “Just noticed you sittin’ there. Thought maybe somethin’ was wrong.”

You hesitated, feeling your eyes tear up at the memory, but the words tumbled out anyway, “I auditioned to be the lead in the show, but I didn’t get it.”

You paused, wiping your eyes as you held back more of your frustrated tears, “And then someone stole my damn horse!”

He blinked, “Both? Same night?”

“Yeah. Hell of a double-feature.” You murmured dejectedly as you uncrossed your sore feet and leaned your aching head on the column beside you.

He couldn’t help the chuckle that left him. He leaned against the railing beside you, shaking his head, “Some folks got all the luck.”

You exhaled, but couldn’t muster up a smile.

“You got anyone?” he asked, “Someone who can take you home?”

You shook your head, “Just my mother, but she’s sick. Can hardly move. That’s why I wanted the lead so badly, pays real good.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” John murmured, quieter now.

He shifted his weight awkwardly, “Can I take you home?”

Your gaze drifted toward him, taking notice of the revolvers on his hip, the way he stood like he hadn't a fear in the world. He was tall with dark, deep set eyes and tan skin that underscored the jagged scars on his face. He was a little rough around the edges, but quite handsome. The realization made you flush and look away, suddenly more interested in a loose seam on your pointe shoes.

“You don’t look like the chivalrous type,” You murmured tentatively.

“Can’t say I am. Just figured a girl like you can’t be sittin’ out here all night,” He huffed, motioning toward the drunks staggering around the outside of the saloon.

A long pause. Your mom always told you not to take rides from strange men, but tonight you’d just have to make an exception.

Then you nodded, getting up and dusting off your skirt. You stumbled a bit as a wave of exhaustion hit you, grabbing onto the railing for support.

“Woah, easy.” He said, holding out his hands in case you fell.

“I’ll let you take me home, but if you kill me, I’ll be sure to haunt you,” You warned.

He chuckled, still staying close as you slowly made your way down the steps, “Fair trade.”

The ride back was quiet. Not uncomfortably so, just still.

Your arms rested around his waist, careful not to seem like you were clinging. But the truth was, you were clinging a little. To the strange sense of calm that came from the steady way he carried himself. Your fingers accidentally brushed a big scar along his rib through his shirt, and you swallowed, wondering where it came from.

“I never asked for your name,” You said.

“No, you didn’t.”

You rolled your eyes, “Well what is it? Mr. Enigmatic?”

He chuckled, “John Marston.”

“Why does that sound familiar?” You asked, more so to yourself, wracking your brain over where you might have heard the name before.

His posture stiffened.

“I guess it’s just a common name,” You dismissed with a shrug.

“Guess so,” he said curtly.

You yawned, trying not to let your cheek rest against his back. But it was hard not to lean into something when you’d spent the day falling apart.

“So,” he started after a beat, “What made you wanna be a ballerina?”

You exhaled, eyes on the barely visible stars in the clouded night sky, “I guess it's the one way I know how to tell a story. Without fumbling for the right words. You just move, and people feel things.”

He didn’t say anything, but you felt the way his back lifted with his breath. Like he understood that more than he’d let on.

You slumped a little, feeling a frown tug at your lips at the memory of your dance instructor’s frustration.

She kept droning on about how you needed to stop being so stiff, stop worrying about being perfect. You can admit perfection isn’t realistic, but you’d be damned if you didn’t try to get close to it.

All you could think about during your set was your mother, the debts, things that needed fixing. Eventually her frustration boiled over and she dismissed you in the middle of your audition altogether,

“But of course, Ballet can be a bitch sometimes.”

That got a chuckle out of him, “I’d trade my holster in for a pair of tights if it meant I didn’t have to chase after idiots all day.”

That made you jolt in shock. So he was a bounty hunter.

That explained all the weapons. You loved reading western novels, ones that depicted the adventures of bounty hunters chasing after criminals and bringing them to justice.

“You don’t enjoy it?” You asked.

“Truthfully? No,” he admitted. “But that's all I know. Ain’t a long list of things I’m good at.”

“You don’t know that. Maybe you’ve got some hidden talents. Singing maybe?”

He snorted. “Ah yes, my gravelly tones could rival the angels.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up out of you at his painfully dry humor.

John felt himself ease up at the sound, warm and honest, one he hadn’t heard in a long time, one he probably didn’t take advantage of enough a few years ago.

“What about dancing?” You teased, “Most people out here can manage a little two-step.”

He chuckled and shook his head, “Miss, I’ve got two left feet and both of ‘em are useless.”

When your house finally came into view at the edge of town, you let out a sigh of relief. The porch light was glowing softly, casting shadows across the wooden railings. It was a small house, old but well cared for, with a few wilted flowers still hanging in the boxes outside the windows.

Your mother sat bundled in a quilt on the front porch, curled into the old rocking chair you’d mended twice already. She stirred at the sound of hooves and slowly pushed herself up, one hand gripping the post for support.

“Mama,” you called as John brought the horse to a stop in front of the steps.

She blinked against the dim light, then frowned slightly as she caught sight of him.

“Who’s this?”

Before you could answer, her gaze flicked from his revolvers to the bloodstains on your tights, to your face, tired and smudged with makeup, but relieved.

“He helped me,” You said quickly, “I didn’t get the part…and then my horse got stolen, so he brought me home.”

Your mother’s shoulders eased almost immediately as she pulled you into a warm hug, “I’m sorry baby.”

“It’s alright.” You murmured, trying your best not to burst into tears yet again.

When you pulled away, she turned to John, “I can’t thank you enough, Mr…?”

“Marston,” he replied, tone firm but kind, “John Marston.”

She smiled, “Well, John, you’ll come in for some tea, won’t you?”

John hesitated. You could already see the excuse forming in his mind, some half-muttered “ought to be going,” but you gave him a quick nudge, wanting to repay him in the slightest.

He relented with a shrug, “Guess I could sit for a minute.”

Inside, the house was warm and a little cluttered, filled with trinkets from years past. You led him to the couch in the living room, and he sat stiffly, like he wasn’t quite sure if he was allowed to.

The cushions gave a soft little sigh beneath him, and he looked mildly offended by how deep he sank into them.

From the kitchen, John watched as your mother moved slowly, gathering the tin of tea and setting water to boil.

You noticed the way her hands trembled as she reached up to grab the teacups, dainty little floral things passed down from your grandmother.

She tried not to show how much effort it took, but she never let you help her.

John saw it too.

He didn’t say anything, but his gaze lingered on her hands as he leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees.

“She’s been sick for a while,” you whispered.

He only nodded, not wanting to pry.

Once the tea was poured, your mother handed him one of the porcelain cups.

“Thank you,” he said, careful as could be, taking it between two fingers like he wasn’t sure what to do with something that delicate.

You tried not to laugh at the sight. Scarred hands and calloused knuckles, holding a tiny rose-covered teacup.

He glanced at you sternly, “Somethin’ funny?”

“Nothin’,” you said, biting your lip. “Nothin’ at all.”

Conversation came slow at first. Your mother asked polite questions, what he did, how he ended up out this way. He dodged with vague answers, but there was a glimmer of honesty under it.

“Used to run with a rough crowd,” he admitted, staring into his tea, deep in thought. “Ain’t proud of most of it. These days, I just do what needs doin’.”

A quiet settled for a moment before your mother glanced toward the window, frowning faintly.

“That wagon’s still falling over,” she murmured, mostly to herself, “Been meaning to fix the hinges. Can’t seem to hold a hammer steady long enough these days.”

“I can try tomorrow,” you offered, though you already knew how it would go. You weren’t exactly handy.

John paused for a moment, then he stood up before either of you could say anything else, “I’ll take a look.”

“What?” you blinked. “You don’t have to—”

“I ain’t doin’ much tonight,” he said, setting the teacup down on the coffee table, “Might as well make myself useful.”

And just like that, he was out the door.

After a few minutes, you looked through the window as he grabbed a few tools from the side of the house and rolled his sleeves up. The porch light caught on the scar along his forearm, the worn seams of his shirt, the muscles shifting beneath sun-bronzed skin as he adjusted the broken wheel.

Your mother sipped her tea, watching you quietly.

“…Do you like him?” She asked after a moment.

You blinked, whipping your head back to her, “What? No. I mean, he’s just—he was being nice.”

She gave you a look, the same one she used to give you as a kid when you snuck cookies from the tin. You huffed, sinking back into the couch.

Outside, John hammered the last nail in, then tested the wagon with a gentle push, it held steady.

When he came back inside, wiping his hands on a rag, you tried not to stare too long.

“Should be alright now,” he said, sitting down beside you again, a little easier this time.

Your mother had forced him to stay longer, eat a few biscuits and share a few more stories. About an hour later, John wiped his palms on his trousers one last time, then stood up from the couch with a small grunt. You stood too, not really wanting him to leave but knowing he probably would.

“As much as I’d love to eat some more a’ these, I really should get goin’,” he chuckled.

You and your mom walked him to the door, feeling an odd pinch in your chest you couldn’t quite name.

“Thanks again,” you said as he tugged his hat off the coat hook, “For everything. I owe you now.”

He paused, deep set eyes softening just a little, “You don’t owe me nothin’. Just glad you got home alright.”

You smiled, “Still. If you ever need something…a tutu, some pointe shoes, just say the word.”

John chuckled, and gave a slight tip of his hat. He stepped down the porch, the warm light casting along the dark tufts of hair poking out from beneath his hat, “I’ll keep that in mind, Miss.”

You watched as he mounted his horse, and then rode off into the dark, lingering on the step until the sound of hooves faded entirely.

Once you were back inside, you collapsed back onto the couch with a heavy sigh, staring up at the ceiling and letting the weight of the day sink in.

What the hell just happened?

You’d danced, cried, got your horse stolen, got a ride home from a bounty hunter, gave him tea, watched him fix your damn wagon, and somewhere in the middle of all that, you’d developed a stupid little crush on a man who was just being kind.

Great.

From the kitchen, you heard your mother’s slow, knowing footsteps. She didn’t say anything. Just gave you that same look. You groaned and tossed your arm over your eyes.

“He was just being nice,” you muttered, like you needed to remind yourself more than her.

A few days passed.

John hadn’t expected to see her again. But when he rode through town, something in him, something small and ridiculous, slowed near the theatre.

And there she was.

Through the tall windows, in the quiet of the dim studio, she twirled. Over and over like the world might end if she stopped.

He dismounted, drifting toward the open doorway, boots scuffing the wood. He leaned against the frame, eyes growing half-lidded from the dizzying repetition.

“You keep spinnin’ like that, I’m gonna hurl.” A raspy voice drawled from behind you.

You gasped and stopped mid-turn, but your face lit up just as quickly when you were met with the sight of a familiar cowboy, “John!”

“Didn’t mean to interrupt,” he said, suddenly unsure why the hell he’d come in the first place.

“You’re fine.” You said, trying to steady your breathing, “I was just practicing for the show.”

He nodded, glancing around the empty studio, “Looks like you’ve been at it a while.”

“Since dawn.” You huffed, stretching out your ankles, wincing at a particularly sore spot.

He whistled, “I’d shoot myself if I had to stay in here that long.”

You jolted as thunder cracked. Rain began to thrum against the roof.

You looked out the window and sighed. “Great. Make sure that gun’s loaded, because we’re stuck here until it stops.”

John chuckled, but noticed the tightness in your jaw. The way your fingers flexed, restless. He figured you were nervous, or worried. About the show, or your mother maybe, he wasn’t the best at reading minds but he figured it was something along those lines.

He tilted his head, eyes glinting as he thought of an idea, “You know, maybe spinning like that ain’t helpin’ you much.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion.

“Maybe you just need to…” he shrugged, and let out a chuckle, “Let loose–I don’t know.”

“Let loose?” You asked, “I mean, I already stretched–”

“Not like that,” he groaned, though a mischievous little smile tugged at his lips, “C’mon.”

“Wait,” you laughed nervously as he took your wrist and began dragging you out the door, “but I still need to practice my pirouettes!”

“No. No more pirou…what’sits!” he said, tugging you into the street.

“Pirouettes.”

“Whatever. Just have fun for once,” He said, grabbing a hold of both your hands.

“I do have fun—“

You were cut off when he spun the two of you in a clumsy circle, boots sloshing through puddles. You nearly fell, laughing as he caught you. His grip was firm, but surprisingly gentle.

You looked down to see the dirt had muddled your once spotless pointe shoes, “Not my shoes!”

“I’ll get you new ones,” he chuckled absentmindedly, carelessly twirling you again, “Don’t think, just keep movin’!”

You danced, if you could call it that. He dipped you with the grace of a cowboy, none, but you couldn’t stop laughing.

“You’re terrible,” you chuckled between breaths.

“Excuse me?” He grinned, hat askew, hair wet and clinging to his forehead,

When John saw the perpetual furrow in your brow untense, like the weight had been lifted off your shoulders, he figured it was worth making a fool out of himself.

You eventually collapsed against the outside of the theatre wall, soaked and breathless, laughter trailing off into silence.

“Thanks,” you chuckled. “I feel… a whole lot better now.”

“Reckon you needed it,” he said as he took in his soaked attire, “Hell, so did I.”

The rain eased into a gentle rhythm above you. And for a moment, the rest of the world didn’t exist.

The sky was beginning to blush with sunset when you stepped off the wooden walkway, clutching the small envelope in your hand a little too tightly. It held a single ticket.

You weren't even sure why you felt nervous. You’d face entire theatres of eyes without breaking. But this? Bringing something to John, asking something of him, it made your heartbeat a little uneven.

He was always around the east side of town around this hour, by the hitching posts or the sheriff’s office. But today, the street was oddly still. Your steps slowed when you noticed the commotion ahead.

A couple men, perhaps lawmen, stood outside the doctor’s office, talking low and serious. One of them had blood on his sleeve.

Your stomach dropped when you heard the name “Marston.” Your legs moved before your thoughts caught up. You walked into the clinic, ticket still in hand, and nearly slammed into the doctor himself.

“Where is he?” you asked, catching your breath.

The old man looked you up and down before looking back at him in confusion, “You a friend?”

You didn’t answer. Just pushed past him.

John was on the cot near the back, shirt discarded, his side wrapped hastily with gauze and stained deep red. He was pale, jaw clenched even in unconsciousness, and looked like someone you didn’t recognize for a moment. Vulnerable.

You hadn’t expected to ever see him like this. John was always upright. Always strong, always helping everyone else. Carefully, you pulled a stool beside him and sat. You didn’t realize how hard you’d been chewing your lip until it started to sting.

He stirred and then his dark eyes blinked open, glassy but sharp enough to recognize you.

“…Hey,” he rasped.

Your heart skipped.

You scooched closer to him, “You got shot didn’t you? What the hell were you doing?”

He tried to get up but winced as he shifted, “Somethin’ stupid.”

You didn’t laugh.

His tired gaze drifted to your hands, hoping to find some way to deflect the attention off of him, “What’s that?”

You looked down at the ticket and blinked like you forgot you were even holding it.

“Oh–um,” Your fingers fumbled to smooth it out, suddenly embarrassed. “It’s a ticket. For my show.”

His brows lifted a little, amused. You could already hear what he might say, so you rushed to add,

“You don’t have to come. Obviously. Especially now that you’re injured and need to rest.”

He stared at you a moment, expression softer than before, then he reached out and took it from your hand. You face warmed when his fingers brushed yours,

“It’s in two weeks,” you added quietly as he held the paper to his face.

“I’ll try and make it.” He said, setting the paper down on his chest as his eyes began to droop again.

You visited him a few times after that, when he was drifting in and out of consciousness.

The doctor’s office was still, touched with the low golden light of early evening. The curtains filtered the sun into soft ribbons across the worn floorboards and across John’s bare chest, where the bandages wound firm around his ribs.

He lay propped against a few stiff pillows, his breath slow but steady, a faint crease between his brows as if even resting required effort.

You sat beside him again, curled slightly into the wooden chair, fingers idle in your lap. The ballet ticket you’d given him the other day was resting neatly on the side table, next to a glass of water and a few faded newspapers.

“Town drunk tried to dance with a scarecrow this morning,” you said after a moment, voice breaking the silence like a pebble in a still pond.

John opened one eye slowly, his lips twitching. “You serious?”

“Dead serious,” you said, biting back a grin. “Middle of the market square, arms wrapped around it like it was his long-lost sweetheart. Folks just let him be.”

He gave a quiet laugh, wincing slightly as it strained his injured torso, “Better than him tryin’ to fight it, I suppose.”

You chuckled too, leaning your head against the back of the chair. “Yeah. Sheriff just shook his head and said somethin’ about it being too early for all that.”

John’s eyes lingered on you a beat longer, then dropped again.

“How’s your mother doin’?” he asked after a pause, “She was real sick last I visited.”

Your expression softened. “She’s doing better. Getting stronger every day.”

He nodded, slow and tired, but a faint relief crossed his face. “Glad to hear it.”

John shifted slightly, exhaling like he wanted to say something else, but instead mumbled, “Thirsty…”

He started to push himself up with one arm, grimacing as the movement tugged at his side.

“Wait, don’t,” you said quickly, reaching out and placing your hand gently on his shoulder. “Stay still, I’ve got it.”

Your fingers barely pressed so as not to hurt him, but his body stilled instantly beneath your touch. The heat of your hand on his skin lingered, and though he didn’t say anything, his face flushed a faint red.

You stood quietly and crossed the room to pour him a glass of water from the ceramic pitcher, then returned and handed it to him. He took it carefully, fingers brushing yours.

“Thanks,” he muttered, his voice quieter now, almost shy. You supposed he wasn’t used to being helped like this, knowing it’s hard for most men to be seen vulnerable, put aside their pride like that.

You sat back down beside him, letting the silence stretch again. After a while, you glanced over at him again, watching his breath slow, eyes fluttering heavier.

“My instructor says I’m getting better,” you said softly, almost like a secret.

John opened his eyes a little. “Yeah?”

“Mhm. She said if I keep it up, I might lead next season.”

A small smile formed on his lips, tired but real. “That’s good. Real good.”

You looked down at your hands and then back at him, catching the way his gaze lingered.

He didn’t say anything at first, just let his eyes close again with a slow exhale.

“I’d limp all the way there if I had to,” he murmured.

You smiled to yourself, quiet and full.

You let him sleep, chest buzzing with something warm, a peaceful quiet settling in the air like the fading light through the curtains.

The night of the show came fast.

The theatre buzzed with nerves and perfume, ribbons tied too tightly, and the soft whisper of satin slippers against floorboards. You adjusted your hair, then peeked out through the heavy curtain.

No sign of him.

“Looking for your cowboy?” one of the other girls teased behind her, nudging her side.

Word got around this town fast, you’d only been seen out with John twice and your entire studio knew about it.

You tried to keep your voice level, “No!”

Another girl laughed softly. “He gonna lasso a bouquet for you after the final bow?”

“Shut up,” you muttered, cheeks pink.

The lights dimmed and the music rose, letting you know your cue came with the rest of the girls.

You moved like you were floating, but a small part of you was still somewhere else, checking the shadows behind the last row of seats.

And then, halfway through the second act, you saw the back door creak open, slow. A figure slipped in, leaning against the wall with the kind of quiet that didn’t want attention. His hat was low, and you watched from the corner of your eye as he eased into the farthest seat in the back.

Your heart leapt so fast you nearly missed a step.

After the curtain call, you changed quickly into a soft pink dress, one of the few nice things you owned.

You found yourself checking your reflection in a vanity mirror nearby, smoothing down your hair, adjusting your dress. You brushed a bit of lint off it and shifted your weight, trying to shake the nerves.

Then you froze.

God. What were you doing?

You looked at your reflection and sighed, well shit, you were trying to look nice for him.

But you shook your head and pushed yourself off the vanity, he was just someone who helped you. That’s all. You stepped out into the hall, scanning the crowd. Most were trickling out already.

But then you found John standing near the exit, smoking a cigarette as his gaze lazily drifted around, waiting.

Your heart fluttered at the sight. He wore a black striped shirt and matching black pants. He was without the usual rifle and gun belt. It was odd seeing him without them, but he looked handsome, like he actually tried to dress up for the show.

You walked over, nerves fluttering in your stomach like you hadn’t just danced in front of hundreds.

“Well?” you asked, hands tucked behind your back.

He snuffed out his cigarette with a small smile, “You didn’t fall once. So I’d call it a success.”

You rolled your eyes, “That’s your review?”

He chuckled, “I wasn’t sure I’d like it. But… It was real’ nice. I’m no expert, but you did great.”

“Thanks for coming.” You grinned.

He gave a small shrug, “Figured I owed you, you know, for the ticket.”

You swatted him and he winced, clutching his rib,

“Oh God, I’m sorry, I forgot!—“

“I’m fine, just messin with you.” He smiled, leaning back up as though nothing happened.

“You should take on comedy,” you shot him a glare.

“Think so?” He asked, chuckling at the way you rolled your eyes and waved him off.

You stepped outside together, the theatre lights fading behind you.

“So, you really are feeling better?” You ask, worried he was concealing any pain.

“Yeah, ‘been shot enough times to heal pretty quickly.” He said, recalling every time he was marked during a robbery with the gang.

He cleared his throat a little, glancing at you from time to time,

“You look…nice.” He said quietly.

“Thank you,” you smiled, motioning to his shirt, “you look quite nice yourself.”

“Yeah?” He chuckled, looking down at his attire as though he didn’t believe you.

“Yeah, although I do miss all those death weapons strapped to you,” you sighed.

“I’ll be sure to bring them next time.” He replied, matching your sarcasm.

He glanced at your pink frilled dress, then down at his worn shirt and dusted jeans, still slightly wrinkled from the quick change.

“We’re a hell of a pair,” he started with a chuckle, “I mean, you look like you came from a picture book and I look like I crawled outta the saloon.”

You laughed, blushing a little as you noticed the contrast yourself.

“Do you…wanna get somethin’ to eat? There’s a diner down the way. Nothin’ fancy.” He asked, avoiding your gaze entirely.

You blinked. It took you a second, but then you grinned as the realization hit you.

“Are you asking me on a date?”

He looked away, muttering, “Guess I am.”

You smiled at his flustered state, all giddy that you made John Marston of all people flush like a school boy.

“I’d love to.”

Relief settled over his shoulders like a warm coat and he sighed, “Okay. Good.”

You walked in step down the quiet street, comfortable silence stretched between you. After a moment, he offered his hand, a little awkward and you took it.

His hand was rough. Yours were soft.

As you walked through the warm dusk toward the diner, your joined hands swinging slightly between you, a funny thought came to your mind,

“I’m glad I didn’t get the part and lost my horse.” You murmured with a little smile.

John's brows furrowed, looking down at you in confusion.

“Then I wouldn’t have met you,” you explained, looking away as you felt warmth rise to the tips of your ears.

“Huh,” John huffed, “I guess I’m glad you had an awful day too.”

You chuckled, swatting his arm.

You were two people from entirely different worlds. But somehow, just somehow, it made perfect sense.

Some folks really do have all the luck.

like if you think john is hawt '(*>﹏<*)′ 🍥lmk what you think by leaving notes, i love reading them. 🍥feel free to send in requests :3

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 community #rdr2 fandom #john marston fluff #john marston headcannons #john marston x reader #john marston smut #rdr2 headcanons #rdr2 imagines #john marston #john marston imagines #arthur morgan x reader #ballerina #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 fanfic

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st7rnioioss · 1 year ago

Text

✧˚ · . train ride

matt sturniolo x fem!reader

warning: dom!matt, fem!reader, (light?) degrading, unprotected sex (guys don't do this, make sure to wrap it up🙏), idk bro, ur begging for him to stop.

word count: 2k (? i think)

DONT LIKE DONT READ

you and matt are on a train ride, but he teases u and fucks you in the public bathroom thing (idk wtf the toilets r called)

made this in school LMFAO anyways, hope you guys like it.

(btw, would any of u listen to it if i made a playlist to my posts? just a few songs that i think would be suitable to the fic?)

You and your boyfriend Matt were on the train. You had to travel for about 4 hours, so you were excited to spend some time with him, just you two alone, since you both often got busy.

“Matt, I’m bored,” you whispered to him. “Hm,” he replied, one hand on your thigh, the other holding his phone. You turned to look at him, his focus on the phone in his hand.

“Seriously?” you asked, rolling your eyes at him, turning to look out the window instead. He noticed and turned his phone off.

Matt wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his head on your shoulder. “Sorry, baby,” he whispered into your neck. Your hand went up to play with his hair, tilting your head backward to kiss his cheek.

“It’s fine. I just want to spend time with you,” you smiled at Matt. He pulled away, leaning back in his seat. He reached his hand out to hold yours, smiling back at you.

Matt knew exactly what he could do to "spend time" with you.

You turned from the window, reaching down in your bag to grab your book.

After reading for a bit, you felt Matt’s hand sneak from resting on your thigh, slowly making its way to your inner thigh. You looked up at him, whispering. “I’m trying to read, sir. Do you mind?” a playful smile on your lips. He acted as if he was thinking about your question, one of his eyebrows raised, followed by a stern “no”. You rolled your eyes at him, focusing back on your book.

༊*·˚

It didn’t take Matt 10 minutes to linger his fingers under your skirt, closer to your core slowly. You started to shift in your seat, repeatedly trying to cover yourself by coughing. You kept sending Matt looks, trying to make him stop. But of course, Matt had other plans. His index and middle finger made their way closer until he made contact with your clit through the fabric of your panties. His eyes were glued to your face, smirking himself, waiting for any sort of reaction from you.

You inhaled sharply, trying not to make any noticeable movements since there were other people on the train, which Matt didn’t seem to care about.

“Matt-” you warned him, his two fingers adding slight pressure against your clit. His only response was a quiet snicker. You tried your best to grab his wrist to get his hand off you, but he resisted.

Matt’s other hand went to your hair, tucking it behind your ear.

“Let’s go to the bathroom,” he whispered. His whisper alone sent shivers down your spine. You looked at him for a moment, fed up with how he always got what he wanted.

You rolled your eyes at him, smiling because you deep down knew you also wanted to.

Matt grabbed your hand, and the both of you walked through the different wagons until you reached the toilet.

Luckily, there was no one in there, and nobody had noticed the two of you walking into the same toilet. Matt quickly locked the door behind you, his hands reaching for your cheeks. Your hands held onto his elbows as Matt kissed you roughly, not the sweet kiss he had given you earlier this morning.

His hands slowly went down your sides, gripping your hips to pull you closer. His sudden movement made you whimper quietly into his mouth, which only made Matt more eager.

“Take these off,” he demanded, his words still sweet, referring to your skirt and panties. You unzipped your skirt, slowly making its way down your thighs until it hit the floor. You did the same with your panties, your shirt still on. Meanwhile, Matt had positioned himself on the closed toilet seat, his erection clearly showing itself through his jeans.

“Now, sit on my lap,” he said, reaching his arms out for you to pull you closer to him. You positioned yourself on his lap, not able to hide the smile on your face. Matt’s hands rested on your thighs, massaging them.

“My pretty, pretty girl,” he whispered, now kissing you just below your ear. He knew that was your soft spot. You let out an exhale in response, trying your best to tease him by not moaning or whimpering at all. He must have noticed, because his hands reached further up your thighs, kissing your rougher, making sure to leave small purple spots that would surely turn darker sooner. This time, you couldn’t resist. You whimpered quietly, biting your lip to not be too loud.

“C’mon, let me hear you, baby,” Matt murmured, his thumb reaching for your bottom lip, pulling it down gently. His action made you audibly whimper this time.

“That’s it,” he smirked, kissing your neck again. Your hands rested on his shoulders, one of them grabbing his hair to pull it gently, you, still a whimpering a mess. You tried your best to best to find any sort of friction on your clit, his bulge beneath you not being enough.

Matt noticed, pulling away from the kiss, and tucking your hair behind your ear. You opened your eyes, looking down at him. He reached for his belt. You got up from him, making him able to pull his pants and boxers down.

You looked at his dick for a moment before stepping closer to him. He helped you position yourself back onto his lap, both your hands resting on his shoulder for support. Matt looked up at you when you had sat yourself down, his eyes gazing into yours.

“Just take it slow,” he whispered, as you lowered yourself onto his dick, stretching you out. Your grip tightened as you sunk deeper, needing to catch your breath a few times. Matt calmed you down by massaging small circles on your hip.

As the pain turned into pleasure, you finally lowered yourself as much as you could. The both of you let out groans and whimpers. “Fuck. You feel so good,” Matt groaned into your ear.

He gripped your hips tighter, helping you lower and raise you off of him repeatedly. Your whimpers turned into moans, trying your best not to be too loud.

You started riding Matt more eagerly as his dick hit your sweet spot repeatedly.

“Someone's eager, huh?” Matt teased with a sly smirk on his lips. You couldn’t even respond to what he said, thinking of anything to say.

“You’re so cute when you try to think. That’s good baby. You don’t need to think, you just need to do as I say. Isn’t that right?” he said, the smirk being almost audible in his voice. You nodded, the whimpering taking over once again. He thrusted up into you which made you moan louder.

“Be quiet. You don’t want anyone to hear us, do you?” you shook your head. Your eyes were shut, one hand on his shoulder, the other one on the wall, fighting for support. Your mouth was wide agape, panting for air as his cock thrust into your pussy.

Matt’s grip was on your waist, rocking you back and forth as you sunk deeper onto him. His head fell back, groaning as he tightened his grip.

“Matt-” you gasped. “I’m gonna cum,” you panted, opening your eyes to look at him. He hesitated for a second. “Let go, baby,” he groaned, his one hand reaching for your clit.

It didn’t take long for you to release all over him, throwing your head back. He reached for your mouth, covering it.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he whispered, looking into your eyes. You slowly got off him, your legs feeling like jelly.

“Oh fuck-” you said, your hand reaching the wall for support. Matt chuckled at the sight. You went to grab your skirt and panties, but Matt cut you off.

“We’re not done here,” he said, standing up as well. You looked confused at him. “But Matt-” you said, snickering, pulling on your panties.

“Don’t make me rip those off you. Take them off,” he said, his voice stern. Again, you couldn’t believe you always made him get whatever he wanted, so you obeyed at took them off again.

“Now that’s better,” he said. “I want your hands on the counter of the sink. Bend over for me, baby,” he whispered into my ear, kissing your cheek,”

You gulped, unsure about what was about to go down. The counter was cold against your hot skin, making you shiver a bit.

Matt looked at you, his hands gliding from your hips up your waist, down to grab your ass.

“Now, be quiet, okay?” he groaned, lining his dick up at your entrance which made you whine.

Matt slowly pushed his cock into you. You bit your lower lip, squeezing your eyes shut, trying not to make any loud noises.

“You take me so well,” he said, cutting himself off with a groan as he pushed himself deeper into your slick pussy. The pain started spreading slowly. You let out a whine of pain, trying to close your legs to make it harder for Matt to enter you.

“Keep your fucking legs open. I’ll make it fit,” he said demanding. You quivered, opening them again slowly. He pushed his full length into you, making you gasp for air.

Matt started thrusting in and out for you, quickly making your legs shake slightly.

“Matt- oh my god-” you moaned, your grip tightening on the counter. The pain suddenly turned into pleasure, and your breaths got heavier.

“That’s right. Oh fuck- You're not gonna be able to walk straight for days when I'm done with you,” he whimpered, his thrusts getting deeper.

“Matt- fuck, you’re too deep. Please stop,” you moaned louder, your legs shaking more.

“Poor baby can barely take it, huh?” he teased, only thrusting harder into you.

You moaned again, your hips starting to slam into the counter in front of you.

“Matt- I’m close,” you whined, your head falling forward, squeezing your eyes shut. Without any warning, you came again.

“Holy fuck,” he moaned, still pumping into you.

“Please- please stop,” you whimpered, begging for it.

“Take it,” he said, his hand leaving your hips, moving to your lower abandonment.

“You feel that baby? You feel my cock deep in your tight pussy?” he smirked, cutting himself off with a groan again, scrunching his nose.

You didn’t even moan audibly anymore. Your mouth was wide open, a bit of drool in the corner of your mouth.

“Matt, I can’t take it anymore,” you whimpered, biting your lip. His thrusts got sloppier, and you could tell he was close as well.

Again, you came with no warning. Your legs were trembling at this point, and you weren’t even sure you could stand up straight anymore.

“Oh fuck-” he said, the cum dripping down your inner thighs. The sight only could make him burst in less than eight seconds.

“Matt,” you begged for him to stop, still a moaning mess.

“Say my name again,” he groaned as he grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling it.

“Matt, please,” you moaned, knowing he was close.

“That’s it,” he moaned, his name still leaving your lips repeatedly. You could feel his cock starting to twitch,

“I’m gonna burst,” he whimpered, his hips bucking up into you.

And he did. His warm cum filled you up as his head fell back, making him whimper.

“Fuck. You feel so fucking good,” he moaned again, letting go of your hair, pulling out of you with a "pop".

༊*·˚

You were both sitting down at your seats again, staring into the air, still trying to grasp what had just happened. You fixed your hair, occasionally sending small looks to Matt. He smiled, the type of cheesy smile.

You leaned in, whispering into his ear. “You look so good. Post-sex messed up hair, I like it,” you giggled, ruffling your hand into his hair, messing it up.

“Shut up. You’re gonna make me hard again,"

(i just noticed i fucking FORGOT to add the part where he fingers you🤣🤣😘 okay bye, imagine he fingers u when u sit on his lap)

#matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo fanfic #nick sturniolo #nick sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets fanfic #sturniolo triplets smut

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loveesiren · 6 months ago

Text

Champagne & Sunshine (Pt.1)

JJ Maybank x Reader

Synopsis: Y/n celebrates six months in the OBX with her best friend JJ and the rest of the Pogues. Although Kiara isn't overly happy about it.

Warnings: Alcohol, language

Word Count: 3.8k+

Y/N's POV:

You pulled up to the beach in your dad's '95 Benz Truck. The one you had just inherited for your birthday. Your dad offered to buy you a new car but you wanted this one. It was your favorite.

"There's Barbie!" You hear JJ holler as you get out of the car.

You smile, holding up two bottles of champagne. You swayed you hips, your long hair draped over your shoulder. JJ was practically drooling at the sight of you in your booty shorts and crop top, belly ring dazzling in the sunlight.

"Well if it isn't miss Kylie Jenner, ladies and gentlemen." Kiara scoffs.

"Good to see you too, Kie." You smile at her. You didn't hate Kiara. But she had a thing for JJ and it was quite literally impossible for JJ to focus on anything else when he was in your presence. You remained friendly to her. You were friendly to everyone.

"What's the special occasion, mama?" JJ asks as you approach him and wrap your arms around him. He grabs your hips and pulls you into him, his arms snaking around your lower back as he takes in your scent.

"I've officially been in the OBX for 6 months and I've made some amazing friends!" You say happily.

"Weren't you like the Kook Queen of LA? How'd you even end up with us again?" Pope asks playfully.

"Cuz this one here wouldn't leave me alone," You chuckle, pointing to JJ.

"I'm sorry, am I supposed to not be obsessed with you?" JJ smiles.

You can feel Kie rolling her eyes but you couldn't care less.

"I don't think stalking the new girl and somehow managing to fall flat on your face every time she speaks to you is the best method to getting the girl." Pope laughs.

"She's here isn't she?" JJ says, motioning to you standing right beside him.

You laugh at their exchange. "Here," You hand Pope a bottle of champagne. "I have more in the cooler," You motion to the G-Wagon. "JJ, help me out?"

"Anything for you, m'lady." He says, following you closely back to your car. You open the trunk and JJ grabs the cooler. You grab some towels and walk back over to where everyone sat on the beach.

You lay a towel down a bit further from wherever else sat and you and JJ sat down.

"There she blows!" JJ said as he popped off the cork to the champagne. You giggled as some of it spilled onto your tan skin. "Ladies first," He says, offering you the bottle.

"Such a gentlemen," You tease before pressing the bottle to your lips and taking a sip.

JJ watched you, smile wide on his face.

"Hey, if you're sick of being hit on by the Kook Klan you can come slum it with the Pogues."

You turn around to see a shaggy haired blonde boy smiling widely at you. You return a smile. "Pogues?"

"Yeah, ya know, we aren't all rich and pretentious like those ones," He nods towards Rafe and Topper, the two boys who had been on your tail all night. "But we know how to have a good time."

"Uhm, yeah, that sounds good. Kind of sick of hearing about golf." You chuckle.

"Well you're in luck, Princess! All we do is surf."

"I love surfing!" You say excitedly. "I haven't been out here yet."

"A woman after my own heart." He smiles. "I'm JJ."

"Y/N," You respond, offering your hand.

"Come on, I'll introduce you to the Pogue life!" JJ says as he throws his arm around your neck and guides you down to a small fire his friends were sitting around. "Guys, this is Y/N! Y/N, this is John B, Pope, Kie, and Sarah. Sarah is Rafe's sister but she's way cooler."

"Hey guys!" You say sweetly. Everyone offers you a smile, Kie's smile was less that genuine but you didn't let it bother you.

"Holy shit, where are you from and why did you follow JJ over here?" Pope asks jokingly as he takes in your features.

Your long hair extensions, bright pink claws, your mini skirt and heels, you were obviously not from the Outer Banks and you were definitely not a Pogue.

"California! Calabasas." You smile. "You guys seem cooler than those douche bags." You laugh, turning and pointing to Rafe and Topper who were glaring in your direction.

"So sorry you had to be subjected to my brother and my ex," Sarah giggled. "They are both douchebags."

You laughed. "Yeah, I gathered that almost immediately."

You and JJ sat down. "So, Y/N, you surf?" John B asks, almost expecting you to say no. You were nice, but you definitely seemed like you'd rather spend a day at the mall than on the water.

"Yep!" You say, shocking everyone. "Used to go every day back home."

"Think you can keep up here?" JJ teased.

You turn to look at him with a flirty smile. "Barbie, eat your heart out."

Ever since you and JJ met that night, he'd been head over heels for you. You grew incredibly close to him and his friends. You'd spend your days surfing, absolutely schooling them almost every time. Days out on the Pogue, fishing and drinking. It was a whole different life than you were used to and you couldn't be happier. Truth was, you had it bad for JJ too, but you loved teasing him.

You laid down in JJ's lap, letting the sun kiss your bronze skin. He twirled your hair around in his finger. "Did you get new extensions?" He asked.

"Yeah, it was about damn time. Mine were so grown out."

"So soft..." JJ mutters as he works on braiding a small part of your hair.

"Want me to get you some extensions, J?" You giggle.

"Absolutely," He chuckles.

You take another sip of champagne before reaching your hand up and stroking your nails down JJ's leg. You could feel goosebumps form on his skin under your touch and you smiled.

It had been six months of dancing around the obvious with JJ. The way he was constantly hanging all over you, making you laugh. The way his eyes lit up when you entered the room. The way he'd stumble over his words whenever you offered a flirtatious remark.

And your actions didn't go unnoticed either. The way your long legs were always draped over his lap. The way you beamed up at him when he was goofing off. The way you blushed whenever he called you Barbie or Princess.

Never in a million years did the island of Kildare think they'd see what could be the sixth Kardashian sister pine over a "loser" like JJ Maybank but that's exactly what happened. No one ever made you feel so happy and free like JJ Maybank did.

The Pogues were happy for you both, well, except for Kiara. She was civil, but her jealousy was obvious. The Kooks, well, the Kooks hated it. Whenever they got a minute alone with you at a party they'd talk shit on JJ and your friends, saying you're too good for them. You'd just scoff and go find your best friend, grinding against him and hanging on his neck while you looked them dead in the eyes. You left your fake, pretentious friends back in Calabasas. When you moved here and met the Pogues, you became a whole new person. You finally felt like you belonged.

"Are we gonna surf or what?" Kiara asked, eyeing you and JJ being overly friendly.

"Hell yeah we're gonna surf!" You shoot up, running to your car and grabbing your board.

The waves were fierce today and you were the first one in the water, catching the first wave immediately and riding it out perfectly before the others could even catch up.

"She's way too good at this. I still can barely stand." Sarah says to Kie and John B.

"Yeah, when we first met her I thought there was no way she could keep up." John B replies, watching you ride out another wave.

"She's not that great," Kie scoffs.

"Come on, Kie. I know you've had a thing for JJ but Y/N is cool! And JJ seems happy, that's what's important right?" Sarah says.

Kie watches as you and JJ take on a wave together. She chews on her lip, admiring the boy she'd been in love with for so long. But Sarah was right, JJ really was happy. Happier than he'd ever been since you came into their lives.

"I am happy for him. I just wish she wasn't the only thing he cared about." Kie responds.

"He still cares about you, Kie. About all of us. He's just...he's never had...that." John B says, motioning to you. JJ had some hook ups, of course, but he'd never had a girl that was so obviously into him the way he was in her, even if they still were too shy to admit it.

"Just didn't think he'd fall for a girl like her," Kie says quietly before paddling out into the water.

After a long day of surfing, and finally helping Sarah ride out a full wave, you headed back to the Chateau.

"You did so good, Sarah!" You say, clanking your glass to hers before slurping down more champagne.

"I literally cannot believe I did that," She chuckles. "Thanks for teaching me."

"Any time babes!" You says, swimming over to her and kissing her on the cheek.

John B and Sarah sit across from you and JJ in the hot tub, the champagne coursing through your veins was obvious as you and JJ got more and more touchy, as you always did when the liquid courage took over.

Kie and Pope sat in the lawn chairs just outside the hot tub.

Kie watched as you sang the lyrics of Champagne and Sunshine, clinging to JJ as you did. The way his face lit up at the way you smiled made her frown.

"I'm sorry, Kie." Pope said, placing a hand on her knee.

"What does he see in her?"

"I don't know, I mean, she's goofy like him. She surfs. She's always happy-"

"Not helping, Pope." Kie cuts him off. Kiara had trouble seeing past the fake hair, fake nails, and fake lashes. As if those things meant your personality was fake. But you weren't fake. You were nothing but kind to everyone you met. Your feelings for JJ were genuine. You were more than happy to be a "Pogue". Even if you looked like a Kook, you wanted nothing to do with that side of the island.

"Sorry," Pope says. "I just mean, I think she's a good match for JJ. And I know that's not what you want to hear but he's happy. And you'll be happy too."

Kiara offers a small smile and nods.

"If it were me, I know who'd I choose." Pope says.

Kiara looks up at him with wide eyes. Pope offers a sympathetic smile and Kie quickly looks away, hiding the pink that was spreading across her cheeks.

You were all tipsy, laughing and singing along to the music. JJ's hand squeezed your hip as he brought a lighter to the joint between his lips.

You straddled his lap and he looked up at you with wide eyes. "Hey, princess!" He says, really enjoying the feeling of your clothed pussy hovering just above his member.

You looked down at the blue eyes you'd fallen so madly in love with. You smile and take the joint from between his lips. You bring it to yours and inhale deeply before passing it off to John B without taking your eyes of JJ's.

You smile, placing your hands softly on either side of JJ's jawline and pull his lips to yours, exhaling the smoke into his mouth. He inhales as he grabs the back of your neck and pulls you into him.

Your lips lock together and you can feel the electricity course through your body. Six long months of waiting for this moment. Six months of falling head over heels for your best friend.

His lips were soft, the kiss was gentle, but hungry. You could tell he'd been waiting for this minute for as long as you had.

The world disappeared around you as his tongue slipped into your mouth. Yours danced with his as you felt his arm grip your waist tighter and his fingers gently pulled at your hair.

"Ow! Ow!"

"Fucking finally!"

You smile against JJ's lips as you hear your friends holler around you. You flip them off as you continue lose yourself in the one man that's ever made you feel at home.

You don't notice Kiara storming off into the Chateau and Pope following her.

"Shit," You hear Sarah whisper.

You pull back slightly and and lock eyes with JJ, biting your lip as you try to contain your smile.

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting for that." JJ chuckles.

"I think I might have an idea," You tease, leaning into him and wrapping your arms around him, burying your face in his neck.

JJ places kisses along your neck and shoulder. You could feel him smile against your skin.

JJ's POV:

I can feel her smiling against my neck. Did that really just happen? I thought to myself. My absolute dream girl was clinging to me as tightly as I clung to her. Pinch me, I must be dreaming.

"You're so perfect." I mumble against her skin.

She chuckles and leans back, her Y/E/C eyes studying my face. "Shut up," She teases. I smile and bring both my hands to her hips, brushing my thumb over skin as I looked up at her. I think I'm fucking in love.

"Hey guys," John B's voice ruins the moment.

"What?" I ask, not taking my eyes off Y/N.

"Uh, don't get me wrong. I love this for you guys. But I think Kiara is upset."

Y/N's expression changes as she slides off my lap and moves away. The loss of her touch left me feeling cold even though I was immersed in the hot water.

I groan under my breath. I didn't want it to seem like I didn't care about Kie but I didn't have those feelings for her. Y/N was everything I've ever wanted. And Y/N was far too sweet. If Kie was uncomfortable, of course she was going to back off.

"I'll go talk to her," I say, hopping out of the hot tub and placing a kiss on Y/N's temple.

I see Kie and Pope on the couch when I enter the Chateau. "Kie, can we talk?" Kie looks up at me with tear stricken eyes. "Pope, scram!" I say as I sit on the coffee table across from Kiara. Pope does as he's told. "Kie, what's going on?" I ask, taking her chin and forcing her to look at me.

"Doesn't matter, JJ." She said sourly.

"It does matter! You're my best friend. Why are you upset?"

"Just go back to your valley girl," She mutters. I clench my jaw. Kiara was constantly judging Y/N for not being Pogue material. She'd never taken the time to get to know her.

"Why do you hate her?" I ask, standing up from the table and walking around the room. "What has she done to you?"

"I don't hate her JJ," Kiara begins. "I just...she's not a real Pogue! She's fake as fuck!"

"Fake hair doesn't make her fake, Kiara. You haven't even tried to be her friend."

Kiara just scoffs and rolls her eyes.

"Look Kie," I sigh. "I love you. You're my best friend, okay? But I really, really like Y/N. It would mean a lot to me if you could get along with her. She's nothing but nice to you."

Kiara purses her lips and nods as she stares at the ground. "I don't think that's going to happen."

Y/N's POV:

"Fuck, I feel bad." You say, grinding your acrylic nail between your teeth.

"Don't feel bad, Y/N. JJ is obsessed with you, and it's obvious you're into him too. You guys deserve to be happy." Sarah reassures you.

"Kie's never liked me. I feel like I just came in and fucked everything up."

"You didn't," John B says. "JJ's never been happier. We all love having you around. Kie will come around in time."

JJ and Kie come out of the Chateau. They both looked unhappy and it made your stomach turn. JJ came over to you and pressed his lips to your ear. "Can we go to your place?" He asked.

JJ stayed at your house often. It wasn't a weird request. But you could tell something wasn't right in his voice.

"Yeah. Yeah, of course." You say as you climb out of the hot tub. You dry yourself off with your towel and grab your bag. "We'll catch you guys tomorrow!" You say as you and JJ start towards your car.

"Hope she's still pretty when you fuck all the fake off her!" A tipsy Kiara yells after you. You and JJ stop in your tracks. You'd been nothing but nice to Kiara since the night you met her. You tried to be her friend and she always shrugged you off. You were honestly sick of it.

You turn on your heel and start back towards her. "What the hell is your problem, Kiara?!" You spit.

"I just think JJ deserves better than some Malibu Barbie who will turn on him as soon as shit gets hard." She hisses back.

"You don't fucking know me!" You yell. "You've made no effort in getting to know me! Everyone else seems to like me. I've never given you a reason to fucking hate me aside from the fact that you're obsessed with JJ and he doesn't feel the same towards you!"

She scrunches up her face at your words.

You'd been nice for too long and you could feel the California version of yourself coming out. You approach her calmly as you cross your arms over your chest. You lean towards her, tongue sliding across your bottom lip. "You can hate me all you want. That won't stop JJ from absolutely losing himself inside me tonight." You whisper with a smile.

You chuckle before turning around and heading back to your car. You hop in the driver's seat. You watch as everyone is silent. JJ stares at Kiara for a moment, you can see her trying to hold back tears. JJ shakes his head at her before turning and climbing into your car.

The car ride was silent as you headed towards Figure Eight. You couldn't help but start to feel guilty the longer you drove. You didn't want to hurt Kiara. You were just so fed up with her treating you this way.

"Hey you two!" Your mom gushes as you and JJ walk into the kitchen.

"Hey mom!" You say.

"Hey, Mrs. Y/L/N!" JJ says.

"Are you guys hungry? I made pizza!"

You and JJ exchange a glance. Neither of you really had an appetite after what just happened. "Maybe later," You say. "We're gonna go watch a movie."

"Okay, Sweetie. Your father and I are meeting some friends at the club. We'll be home later."

"Sounds good!" You say, dragging JJ up the stairs to your room.

Your parents loved JJ. Back in California there were no Kooks or Pogues. Your mom and dad grew up working for everything they have now. They were the last people to judge. They knew about JJ's home life and insisted he stay at your house whenever he needed. He was nothing but respectful to your parents and your little sister, Marley.

Your parents were rich and boujee and well respected but as soon as they got home and kicked off their designer clothes, they were stoners at heart. You came from a long line of hippies. Your parents wouldn't forget that. However, they still loved life's luxuries and wanted the best for you and Marley, so they put on a Kook front for the new island you now called home.

Once you and JJ were in your room, he flopped onto your bed and groaned.

"Look, I'm sorry for what I said to Kie. I-"

"Don't be sorry, Y/N." JJ said. "She's been such a bitch to you since you moved here. I don't blame you for getting upset."

"Still. I shouldn't have said what I said." You moved to your closet, slipping out of your bikini and throwing on a t-shirt and panties. You grabbed some gym shorts for JJ and tossed them to him. He had left many clothes at your house over the last six months.

"I tried to talk to her. Tried to ask her to be civil," He said as he slid his shorts on. "She's just fucking stubborn."

You nodded, heading to your bathroom to take your make up off. JJ followed you, snaking his arms around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder. You smiled at the gesture.

"Can I do it?" JJ asked as he saw you reaching for your lashes.

You giggled. "Yeah, JJ, you can do it."

You sat down on your closed toilet and looked up at JJ, closing your eyes. He took your lashes between his fingers and slowly began pulling.

"Just yank it off, JJ!" You laugh.

"I don't want to hurt you!"

"It won't hurt, just rip it."

JJ does as he told and you smile at the instant relief your eyelid felt.

"So weird," JJ says as he fiddles with the lashes in his fingers, flicking them to the side like they are a spider.

"If it freaks you out why do you always want to do it?" You giggle.

"Cuz it's satisfying," He tells you as he leans down to pull your other lashes off. Once he does, he grabs your make up remover and a cotton pad, slowly removing all the make up from your skin. You relax under his touch, enjoying the way he knows how to take care of you.

Once he finishes removing your make up, he ties your hair back, careful of you extensions like you showed him. He washes your face and puts on you moisturizer.

"There. So fucking pretty." He says as he admires your bare face.

You smile up at him, begging for him to kiss you but you know he's too shy.

JJ leads you back to your bed and you both climb under the covers. "What episode were we on?" He asks as he scrolls through Kardashian reruns.

"Uhhhh, Khloe divorcing Lamar." You say. JJ finds the episode and throws the remote to the side. He wraps you tightly in your arms and your throw your arm and leg over his body, nuzzling against his chest.

You felt your eyes growing heavy as JJ ran his fingers over your arm. You couldn't help but smile as you thought about your life. Last year you were stuck in a place full of fake ass people who didn't give a shit about your well being. Now, you were laying in bed watching the Kardashians with a boy who literally couldn't get enough of you. A boy who took the time to learn everything about you. How to care for your hair extensions, take off your make up properly, what colors you liked your nails. A boy who knew you were petrified of spiders and heights. A boy that could make you laugh for hours on end. A boy who'd bring you your favorite food at 2am just because you texted him that you were hungry. A perfect boy.

You couldn't deny the fact that you were absolutely in love with JJ Maybank.

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged! :)

#c&s #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #obx #outer banks #obx fanfiction #obx pogues #obx fandom #obx fic #champagne & sunshine

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spideyslag · 24 days ago

Text

Ok so idk if I’ll ever actually finish this fic but I love this section so, here.

Context: Tony suggests Peter use his Hamptons house for a (grad school) graduation party. Peter insists he has to come too. They finally hook up.

The MIT tee shirt Peter found somewhere in the deepest darkest depths of Tony’s drawers is positively ancient.

He does this all the time, wears Tony’s clothes.

It started out of convenience and necessity.

Something- motor oil, lunch, web fluid, would get on Peter. And Tony, as a veteran engineer, had a decent stockpile of emergency clothes in the lab.

And then came the Peter-sleeping-in-the-tower nights, and then, apparently, a pure stylistic preference that Peter comfortably stole clothes right out from under Tony’s nose.

He called it ‘oversized’ and ‘vintage’ on various past occasions when he’s worn them. (apparently he’s very fond of Tony’s MIT shirts. Like his new MIT shirts aren’t good enough or something).

On one extremely unlucky occasion, when Rhodey casually let himself in to the penthouse on a Sunday morning, Peter made the (unfortunate for Tony) decision to call it ‘so cute’ and ‘retro’ to Rhodes face and Tonys still hasn’t heard the end of that one. Thinking about it too long almost makes Tony’s head spin. The look in Rhodes’s eyes, seeing something Tony liked to pretend wasn’t there, was dangerous.

Now though, now there’s no hiding from it.

Peter’s zipping a pair of- god fucking damn it- Tony’s old, skinny, party boy jeans- still hanging a little loose on his hips, a consequence of Tony’s slightly broader build. It leaves a slim sliver of torso visible and it’s dangerous. Those jeans are probably from before he kid was even born- when Tony focuses again.

“Oh, hey. You’re up. Good morning.” he smiles, coming over to the bed to lean over and kiss him- morning breath and all.

Jesus fuck, the button isn’t even done.

“Hey. Where you off to? Hit it and quit it?”

“Of corse not” Peter laughs like it’s so outrageous he can’t even consider it a possibility.

“I was gonna go grab coffee and something to nosh on. There was a cute coffee shop we passed on the drive yesterday, I looked it up they had good ratings. I figured I’d be safe to get you a large drip, you’re not picky. Some like, chocolate croissants or something, or maybe like, a big platter for everyone’s hangovers before we make an actual breakfast. I figured you wouldn’t care if I took the hummer- you don’t, right? I kinda wanted to surprise you with coffee but now you know so...”

“can you talk to me like this for the rest of my life?”

“What?”

“I don’t know. This whole, like, bossy housewife thing you have going on is really doing it for me. Fuck the hummer baby I’ll get you a Range Rover. G wagon. Whatever Pilates-doing-Erewhon-shopping-alo- matching-set-wearing-country-club-ass vehicle you want. Take the hummer, baby, fuck it talk half of everything in the divorce”

“You’re insane, Tony.” Peter laughed in a way that was almost reminiscent of young Pepper.

Tonys blinked some sleep out of his eyes, sitting up a little in bed, taking Peter all the way in.

He was beautiful.

And he looked so right here.

“Seriously. I can wake up to this forever.”

“Tony, oh my god I never took you as being so clingy” Peter grinned.

#starker

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nevadancitizen · 26 days ago

Text

-> CH. 7: SUITORS & SEERS

synopsis: you wonder about arthur, divine with javier, and have a weird dream about a courier.

word count: 3.3k

ships: Arthur Morgan/Modern!Reader, Van der Linde Gang & Reader

notes: sorry about how this chap jumps around i just got my new dose of ritalin (adderall lite) LOL

TOSoA taglist: @one-green-frog , @photo1030 , @mavenhavenn , @its-yummi , @fatherbangboo , @shackspossum , @swedesfics , @literallyrousseau , @xprloki , @pedifero , @6esi , @xnorthstar3x , @scorpio-echo , @eafv2323 (if you'd like to be added to the taglist, just ask <3!!)

THE OLD SOUL OF AMERICA MASTERLIST

Things at camp are mostly normal. You haven’t really seen Arthur around, and you’re not too concerned about whatever he’s doing. Like you heard John say once – you don’t even want to know what he’s doing out there. Probably being the reason some whore grits her teeth and reminds herself that she needs the money he’s handing over in wads.

Well, actually… you don’t think he’s a womanizer. The stories Hosea told you are still somewhat fresh in your mind – from Hosea’s perspective, Arthur’s just a misunderstood brute. But he’s known him for years… you’ve known him for all of a month. And on top of that, you don’t have the kindest relationship with him. What Hosea told you and what you see with your own eyes are at odds with each other, and it’s hard to reconcile the conflicting statements in your mind.

At least you can lay in bed and think about it. No, you don’t really have a bed – it’s a bedroll next to the ammunition wagon, on the other side of Arthur’s tent. The canopy over the wagon is set up so you sort of have some cover, but not as much as on Arthur’s side. You don’t really care – you’re just happy that you aren’t sleeping on the bare ground.

Your eyes are shut, but you can tell that a shadow is suddenly eclipsing your face. You open your eyes and see Tilly looking down at you, her hands on her hips.

“Yes, Tilly?” You say.

“C’mon, sleepyhead,” she says. “You gotta get up ‘fore Miss Grimshaw sees you lazing about.”

You groan and reach forward, pulling yourself up into a sitting position. You slip your boots on and pull up the zipper on the sides. After a moment, you stand, rocking forward on the balls of your feet, then rocking back on your heels.

“What’s on the docket today?” You ask, looking over at Tilly.

“Oh, the usual.” She waves her hand and starts walking. “Chopping firewood, doing the washing, sewing up clothes…”

You catch up with Tilly, then fall in step with her. “Anything particularly painful?”

“Darning socks,” she says without a bit of hesitation.

You huff out a laugh. “Right. I didn’t expect any less from Grimshaw…”

Tilly leads you to a picnic table (though you’re not sure they’re called that back now), where Karen and Sadie are sitting. A small pile of clothes sits in the middle of the table alongside a sewing kit.

You sit next to Sadie, and Tilly sits across from you. You pull a piece of clothing out from the pile, which winds up being a pair of jeans. You quickly pick out a needle and thread from the kit after identifying the tears in the denim – you want to get this over with quickly.

“I didn’t know you knew how to sew,” Karen says. “I thought you were one for the men’s work – choppin’ firewood and all that.”

You lead the thread through the eye of the needle and tie a quick knot. “I learned to sew when I was… I don’t know, five or six. I taught myself.”

Karen hums and goes back to her work, as do you. While your focus is on fixing the tear, you can’t help but wonder about the woman sitting next to you – Sadie. You’ve heard a lot about her. She’s… resilient, to say the least. (She’s more than resilient, really. She’s been through hell and back and still manages to put up a normal front.)

You turn to look at Sadie fully. “Hey – I just realized I never really introduced myself.” You offer a small smile and give her your name.

She takes her eyes off the shirt she’s mending and looks over at you. “Nice to meet you. I’m Sadie Adler.”

“Nice to meet you, too.” You go back to your mending. “You lived on a ranch, right? Before, uh…”

“I did,” Sadie says before you finish your awkward sentence. “With my husband, Jake.”

“I, um… I had someone like that,” you say. “Not a husband, but I… I lost him, too. Though I’m sure no one could compare to Jake.”

“Hey, wait!” Karen juts in. “This’s the first time I’m hearing of a someone.”

You bare your teeth in a somewhat-smile. “No, no. He’s – he’s long gone. He didn’t die, but… he’s dead to me, so it’s all the same, really.”

Tilly puts her sewing down on the table and leans closer. “You can at least tell us his name – what he was like.”

“Um…” You hunch your back and bring your sewing closer to your face, pretending to look at it closely. There’s a faint smell coming from the denim.

“Those ain’t been washed yet,” Sadie points out.

You sit up straight and pull the jeans away from your face. “Right. Yeah.”

Oh, this is going great, you think. A million questions about Pierre and I just had two week’s worth of ball sweat and blood six inches away from my face. Thanks, God! You’re playing a horrible trick on me and I don’t find it funny at all.

“Well, he…” You start, but trail off. “He was bad. Didn’t hit me, but… still. I never met Jake, but he sounds a million times better.”

You decide to leave it at that, and it seems like the women respect that decision. It’s 1899 – they’ve all had bad interactions with men. You don’t need to tell them what it’s like to be a victim. They’re victims damn near every day.

But Arthur isn’t like that, a voice in the back of your mind whispers. He’s not a womanizer or an abuser. He’s just a guy. He’s just some guy by 1899 standards. Strong, intimidating, tall, but otherwise unremarkable… ha! Yeah, right. He’s unremarkable if you ignore all the people he’s killed in cold fucking blood.

You bite your tongue and ignore the urge to ask the women what they think. It’d be inappropriate to gossip at the best of times, but gossiping about Arthur seems like it’d come back to bite you somehow.

But… you can’t help but wonder. There’s something about him that says to ignore the smaller misdemeanors and instead focus on the good things about him. No, you can’t really ignore the fact that he pulled a gun on you, but you want to ignore the little slights he’s made against you – the mean little jabs that don’t really do anything to your self-confidence. (Not that you have a lot, but the fact remains true.)

Arthur makes you second-guess yourself. You never were one for men that are eager to get their hands dirty. Pierre was suave and attentive when he wanted to be, but huffed and whined at the thought of going under the porch to fetch a dropped joint. You’re sure Arthur… well, he wouldn’t jump at the opportunity to crawl around in mud and half-rotted leaves, but he’d do it. He’d do it just so you wouldn’t have to.

Maybe Hosea was right. But if there is a gentleman in Arthur, it’s buried six feet deep and entombed in a metal casket that’s been welded shut. You don’t know what would bring it out. Maybe you don’t even want to.

The light from the campfire is bright and warm. Javier is sitting on a foldout chair nearby, strumming his guitar and singing softly in Spanish. You can pick up and understand a few words, but not enough to sing along.

You step over the felled log that serves as a bench and sit down, basking in the warmth the fire provides. You didn’t work the entire time the sun was out, but it’s still nice to sit down at the end of a long day.

Most of your energy went to thinking, honestly. Everything else was muscle memory. And who else were you thinking about but Arthur Morgan? That bastard.

He’s like a joke that makes you laugh in your dreams – but when you wake up, it makes no goddamn sense. Arthur makes no goddamn sense.

But that’s just how the story goes. A man bursts into your life, loud and attention-drawing, and you can’t help your attention being drawn to him. But why couldn’t it be someone like… you don’t know, Javier? Javier seems suave enough and romantic enough. He’s even got a guitar and speaks Spanish – a language that literally belongs to the romantic language family.

“Ay,” Javier’s voice pulls you from your thoughts. “You divining over there?”

You pull your eyes from the hypnotic ebb and flow of the flames into the air and look over at him. “Huh?”

“You were staring at the fire.” He takes a hand away from the neck of his guitar to grab a bottle of whiskey sitting by his feet. He takes a sip and sets it back down. “I thought you were maybe… fire-seeing?”

“Oh, no, no.” You laugh and rub the side of your arm, pulling your knees closer to your chest.

A feeling of something like calmness washes over you and a memory bubbles to the surface. You’re holding a handful of powdered chalk. You throw it into the fire before you, and the flames whip into the sky in a roar of flame. You can hear White Bird laughing in delight. It’s faint – just whisps compared to the entire tapestry of your mind – but it’s there all the same.

“It’s – it’s called ember-reading,” you say. You point up at the specks of ember coming off the fire and floating in the air before going out. “The Sorrows’ shaman, White Bird, taught me how to read the embers. See what story they were telling.”

Javier hums and plucks at the strings of his guitar. It’s not really a song, but just things he probably thinks sound nice strung together. “Is this fire telling you anything?”

“I’d have to ask a question,” you say. You turn your attention to the log you’re sitting on and pull up a few strips of bark that are only kind of dry.

It sort of frustrates you that you’re able to do this – that this other person still exists within you. Their neural pathways and memories aren’t overtaking yours, but it sure feels like the real you is fading, slowly being overtaken by the other.

But at the same time, you kind of like it. You like not being yourself. You don’t have to totally spill your guts to everyone, apologizing and sobbing and begging for them to not look at you differently. You have an excuse to lie, and it’s easy to lie when all the alibis are already in your head, half-true and there when you need them.

“Hm.” Javier thinks for a second. “Any homesteads that got stashes nearby?”

You work on memory and do your best to bullshit the rest.

You bring your hands to your lips, closing your eyes and mouthing the words of Javier’s question against the bark. You dig your thumbnails into the husk, splintering the bark under the pressure. You mouth the words again, your lips brushing against the wood like the first time.

You toss the bark into the fire. It pops and crackles, throwing embers into the air. The pieces gradually start to come together.

“I see…” You squint up at the embers contrasting against the dark, cloudless sky of early night. “Um… I see a house. And three – no, four men. One of them… he just saved another one of the men! Now there’s a… scattergun?”

In the fire, the bark shrivels into a little charcoal bookmark. It stops giving off embers and a piece breaks and falls into the coals.

You lean back, watching the residual embers from the rest of the wood flit about. “That, um… that didn’t make a lot of sense. Maybe I’m out of practice.”

Javier plucks the strings of his guitar in a descending order. When he speaks, he sounds cautious about believing you, but doesn’t say it outright. “Maybe the most valuable thing in that house is the gun.”

“Yeah,” you say. You break off another piece of bark from the log and tear off strips, tossing them into the fire. “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

The conversation tapers off, and you find yourself relaxing into the warmth of the fire and the melodies of Javier’s guitar. The sound is old and wooden, but still comforting and inviting. His voice is soft and slow as he sings, deliberate in every syllable and rolled ‘R.’

Maybe this isn’t so bad, you think to yourself. Charles keeps secrets. Javier knows how to sing and play guitar. Tilly is smart and a good conversation partner. Micah hasn’t bothered me that much recently. And Arthur –

You look up just as someone steps over the log and sits next to you – not right next to you, but just out of arm’s length. And who else is it besides Arthur? Of course it has to be Arthur…

Arthur greets you and Javier by saying both of your names. He then holds his hands out towards the fire and rubs them together.

“You see the new horse?” Arthur jabs a thumb over his shoulder at the hitching posts. You have a feeling he’s talking to Javier more than he’s talking to you.

“The grey one?” Javier asks.

“Yeah,” Arthur says.

“She’s mine,” you jut in, keeping your voice as even and dead as you can manage. You don’t even look at Arthur as you speak. “Don’t touch her.”

“Shit, who said I was?” He says, a bit of a bewildered smile on his face.

You sigh and stand, wiping your hands of little pieces of wood that got stuck to your skin. “I’m gonna turn in. Goodnight, Javier.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Javier give Arthur a wide-eyed look that silently says ‘What the hell happened?’ You ignore it and head to your bedroll.

You sit and remove your boots, setting them under the wagon. Then, you take off your button-up, leaving you in just a white undershirt and jeans. You fold the shirt into a pillow and set it at the head of your bedroll.

With a weary, tired sigh, you lay down. Even though you have a makeshift pillow, you still have to prop your arm under your head to make sure it’s got enough support to not give you a crick in the morning.

Sleep comes easily.

You’re acutely aware that you’re dreaming. Black surrounds you. It doesn’t scare you. You don’t really feel any emotion at all.

Your legs start moving on their own. Somehow, you find footing on the nothingness and walk forward.

Eventually, something comes into view – someone. They turn to face you. Carefully cultivated locs, intertwined with metal rings and colorful pieces of thread, frame their face and end just above their shoulders. Their face is amalgamous and your mind can’t quite grasp what they look like. They could be your twin; they could be your complete opposite.

You raise your hand and wave.

They start walking towards you. Their face twists and shifts, the motions of muscle rippling under skin getting more intense and almost violent as they come closer.

You don’t feel scared. You know this person. No, you don’t know their name or their face, but you don’t feel scared because you know who this is. It’s a sense of knowing that feels intrinsic to you.

You reach out and touch their shoulder, your hand moving of its own accord. Their face stops moving and settles into two eyes (close-set, brown), a nose (flat, wide), a mouth (downturned, full lips). A normal face.

“Who are you?” You ask.

“I’m a courier,” they say.

“What’s your name?”

“I…” Their face twists in confusion. “I don’t have a name. Did you take my name?”

“No,” you say immediately. “You can’t take someone’s name.”

“Huh.”

You’re not in the black nothingness anymore. Canyon walls flank you on either side and you’re standing in water. The person is next to you.

“The Three Sisters.” They point up and around you.

“I recognize it,” you say. And it’s true – you do recognize the area. But now there’s three identical statues in the middle of the stream. They weren’t there before.

The statues are of three women dressed in habits like they were picked right out of a nunnery. Their heads are all slightly bowed, their hands folded in front of their chest in prayer (or something like it).

They point at the statues. “The Three Sisters.”

You look over at them and they’re you. Same face, same hair, same build, same amount of fat settled around the hips and waist and the same tired eyes.

“You stole my body,” you say. “What the hell?”

“You stole mine,” they say. “It’s only fair.”

“No, you…” You scoff. “You did it first.”

“No.” They point at you. “We did it at the same time.”

You point at them. “What’re you talking about?”

They point at you again, with both their index fingers. “You wished.”

“Wished for what?” You mirror them and point at them again.

“A new life.”

“Not like this.”

“Why not like this?”

“I left my family behind.”

“I’m taking care of them.”

“You are?”

“I am.”

“You’re not.”

“Ladybug keeps asking where you are.”

“Ladybug…”

You sigh and lay down in bed. They pull up a chair and turn on the lamp on your bedside table, then pull the blankets up to your chest.

“I miss my niece,” you say. “She’s just a kid. My girl…”

“Your girl.” They stroke one side of your face. “Your child.”

“You’re taking my memories of her.”

“You’re taking my memories of the Mojave.”

“You’re in the Mojave?”

“I am.”

“I’d do anything to be in the Mojave.”

“They miss you.”

“I know.”

You look over at them and they’re back to normal. Same face, same hair, same build, same squarish hips and waist and the same close-set eyes.

“When I wake up tomorrow,” you say, “will this all be in my head?”

“Maybe.” They ghost their fingertips over your hairline. “Aren’t you in your head?”

“What?”

“You’re in your head, too.”

“Oh. You’re right.”

You look up at them. Now that they’re closer, you can see more details on their face. Their crow’s feet. The scar that splits their bottom lip. The star-shaped stitches on their forehead where it looks like their skull was opened and sewed back up.

“What happened?” You ask.

“I got shot.”

“In the head?”

“In my head.”

“That must’ve hurt.”

“I don’t remember it.”

“Oh. That’s good.”

“I wish I wasn’t.”

“Wasn’t what?”

“Shot in the head.”

“That makes sense.”

“But you got your wish granted.”

Your face twists in confusion. “My wish?”

“Didn’t you wish to be far away?”

“Maybe once, when I was a kid.”

“But you have adult responsibilities now.”

“That’s why I said I wished when I was a kid.”

“Some delay that is.”

You step out of the shower and help them with wrapping a towel around themselves, then wrap a towel around yourself. They lead you out of the bathroom.

“Are you an angel?” You ask.

“No,” they say. “I’m a courier.”

“Oh. That’s right.”

“Why do you think I’m an angel?”

“Nothing makes sense. You might as well be an angel.”

“Maybe you’re the angel.”

“I doubt that.”

“Do you think angels are saviors?”

“Maybe. I’m not so sure.”

“Do you think people can become angels?”

“Maybe. I’m not so sure.”

“Do you think people can become saviors?”

“Maybe. I’m not so sure.”

“Do you think prophets can become saviors?”

“Maybe. I’m not so sure.”

“Do you think you can become a prophet?”

“Maybe. I’m not so sure.”

“Do you think you can become a savior?”

“Maybe. I’m not so sure.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, your head snaps over to them. They’re gone. Maybe they were never there in the first place.

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beansprean · 1 year ago

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Idk what happened but I woke up last Monday wanting to draw a 10th kingdom au for no discernible reason and SUDDENLY LIKE 2 OTHER WWDITS FOLK HAD THE SAME IDEA?? Sometimes a hive mind is TOO strong

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: Sketch dump in red of Nandor and Guillermo as Wolf and Virginia, respectively, from the 2000s NBC miniseries "The 10th Kingdom". 1. Guillermo dressed in his trenchcoat over a zip up hoodie over a dark collared shirt, laying on his back on a narrow box bed with his eyes closed. Nandor, wearing a long coat with a ruffled collar and sleeves over a loose linen top and with his hair half up and tucked behind his ears, is crouched beside him with both arms propped up on the edge of the box, smiling down at him with hooded eyes. Nandor says, "and then a really cool, handsome prince comes by and he says "wow, what a rascal!" Guillermo snorts, tamping down a smile as he tries to continue to look asleep. 2. Close up of Nandor taking Guillermo by the shoulders and bringing him close with a wide, besotted smile. He says, "Guillermo, you make me all hard and soft at the same time!" Guillermo is staring at him, wide-eyed and confused, blushing. 3. Knees-up of Guillermo and Nandor sitting side by side, Guillermo sans trenchcoat and Nandor with his hair down and a visible wolf's tail curled up between them. Guillermo is looking down at the tail with some interest, petting it with one hand. Nandor has both hands clasped in his lap and his shoulders up by his ears, looking away with a silly wobbly smile and flushed cheeks. 4a. Knees up of Nandor striking a princely pose, one hand pressing fingertips to his chest and the other extended upward, palm up, as he shouts with a grin, "Rapunzel, let down your lustrous locks!" 4b. Repeat, a thick wave of shiny dark hair flops down on him from above. 5. Hips up of Nandor from behind as he braces both hands on a wooden post, shoulders hunched. His nails have formed long claws that are gouging into the wood, and the full moon is visible beyond. He looks over his shoulder, hair loose and wild, eyes glowing as his face contorts into something feral and hungry. 6. Full body of Nandor, sans jacket, skipping happily along with his chin and blouse stained with blood, flowers dancing around his head and tail bobbing along behind him. 7. Chest up of Guillermo trapped in a medieval style chair, sans trenchcoat. Nandor is standing behind him, one arm draped along the back of the chair and the other propping him up as he leans, palm out placatingly as he asks with a grin, "Don't you trust me?" Guillermo looks over his shoulder and leans away as much as possible, nervous, baffled, and angry all at once. He spits back, "No!! You tried to eat my grandmother!" At this angle we can see Nandor has a hoop in his right ear. 8. Knees up of Nandor and Guillermo standing side by side, showing off some closer details of their outfits. Nandor is smiling with a fang poking out between his lips, hands twiddling together at his waistline as he peeks over at Guillermo from the corner of his eye. Guillermo glances back at him, wary and flushed, pulling his arm up towards his chest to avoid Nandor's tail, which is wagging hard and thumping against Guillermo's side. Text nearby points to Nandor and says "wolf", and points to Guillermo and says "virgin". 9. Nandor and Guillermo sitting side by side in the back of a wagon, reading self-help books. Nandor aims an excited glance at Guillermo, biting back a silly grin. His book is titled "How To Fall In Love Without Acting Like a Freak About It." Guillermo is hunched over, eyes on his book with a kind of weary and hopeless expression. His book is titled "Become UnGovernable without compromising your morals" /end ID

#wwdits #nandermo #mlm #the 10th kingdom #what we do in the 10th kingdom #wwdittk au #guillermo de la cruz #nandor the relentless #wolf nandor #what we do in the shadows #what we do in the shadows fx #my art #fanart #image described

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instant-delusions · 2 years ago

Text

.·:*¨༺𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔥𝔦

wind pillar || shinazugawa sanemi × f! reader

cw! - sanemi behavior, smut (public sex, degradation, unprotected sex)

requests : open

nsfw under the cut

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

green fields, red roofs, a little path leading into a forest. little girls wearing cream colored yukatas while walking hand in hand, chatting happily. those little scenes pass you by quickly, as you sat next to shinazugawa sanemi on the infamous mugen train. it was quiet and empty, probably because of everything that happened here before.

ten minutes ago, sanemi and you boarded mugen train for a mission all the way in niigata prefecture. a snowy, mountainous region, which means excruciating work for your body. niigata - that's a long, three hour ride - obviously, you instantly claimed the window seat of your booth and with an exaggerated sigh, the pillar sat next to you, reading through some details of your mission. and since then, it's been unbearably quiet.

you met sanemi six months ago - mitsuri dragged you along to one of the hashiras drinking parties. obviously, she noticed you eyeing the wind hashira with a blush and instantly pulled you into the women's bathroom. "sanemi?" she sqeaked with a quick twirl, it's no use denying, so you nodded with a bashful smile. quickly, she filled you into his relationship status and gave you a brief overview of his character, "he's a challenge, (y/n). you're gonna love it, though, I know your type, he's that... times a million." with a new-found confidence, (after two peptalks from your friend), you downed another sake shot and made your way over to sanemi, who stood outside, smoking a kiseru.

"that's impressive" you commented, after he puffed out the smoke in a circle. watching it disintegrate into the night, he spoke "it's nothing. my dad, that wretched bastard, could do jellyfishes." turning to look at you, he gave you a lopsided grin. "don't have a good relationship with your dad?" you asked. that question painted the rest of the night, both of you drunkenly talking about your parents for hours, refusing to leave the inn.

the train stopped at the first station of your trip, thirty minutes have passed. you watched as the only other person in your wagon left and nobody else entered. "so it's just us two, huh?" you said, looking at sanemi with a slight twinkle in your eyes. he looked back, watching you blink seductively, and sighed, "what the fuck are you implying, (y/n)?". leaning back, he studied you, waiting for one of your annoying replies. "I'm just saying..." you started, voice barely above a whisper, trailing a vein on his muscular arm, "nobody else is here." you purred into his ear. quickly, you pulled away and turned your attention back to the scenery outside, "not like your would do it here" you added, waiting for him to snap. sighing, he shuffled closer to you, grabbing your waist, "you really think I won't fuck you on this train, bitch? I'd have you bouncing on my cock at the imperial palace, I don't give a shit." sanemi lifted you onto his lap, so you could feel his hardening cock pulsing beneath you, "bet you'd like that, whore, hm?" he pressed, you kept your lips shut, just slightly grinding against his dick with soft rolls of your hips. impatient, he grabbed your face, lowering you dangerously close to his lips, "I asked you a fucking question." you could feel the air of his words blowing against your mouth. "yes" you said, immediately pressing your lips against his. nibbling on his lower lip, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing him closer to you. slowly, he pressed his tongue through your lips, intertwining it with yours, as he moved his hands from your thighs to flip your skirt over, revealing your soaked underwear. "fuck" he rasped, you could feel his dick twitching through his pants.

as you busied yourself undoing his belt, sanemi peeked outside. fortunately, he couldn't see the next station, but decided to hurry anyway. "quick", he whispered hotly against your ear as you freed his fat, pulsing cock. you spit into your hand and began to jerk his girth, watching pre drip down, as he pushed your panties to the side, burying two of his fingers inside your wet pussy. instantly, he pressed his other hand over your mouth to muffle your moans and pulled his fingers, coated in your juices, out. "sit down, pretty girl." sanemi insisted and you wasted no time, navigating his cock to your pussy. feeling his head against your entrance, you sank down, biting one of his fingers to muffle your shout. although you're soaked, the stretch burned ; he filled you to the brim and you were sure he'd penetrate your cervix before your ass even met his balls. impatiently, sanemi pressed his hips up, to bury himself completely in the ecstacy that is your pussy. he wasted no time and started thrusting quickly, the noise echoed obscenely against the walls of the train, mixing with the rattling against rails. quickly, he found your clit, rubbing it in circles, while watching your tits bounce at his brutal pace. your juices dripped down his balls, onto the seat, while you drooled against his hand. as your pussy clenched and pulsed against his dick, your thighs started to tremble and your back arched deliciously, you felt like you were falling down, before an unearthly orgasm hit you. feeling the way your pussy spasmed, sanemi rasped curses under his breath and with a few, messy, thrusts, he spilled his warm, sticky cum deep inside you.

"tickets, please!" the conducter shouted as he entered your wagon. both of your hair was messy and you opened the window to get rid of the smell, although the wind was icy. you're so glad you packed double the amount of panties you usually would.

↠ⁿᵉˣᵗ ˢᵒⁿᵍ : giyuu x reader smut ↺ ʳᵉᵖᵉᵃᵗ

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