#not showing up in the tags so i had to repost hope it works now

[always-just-red]

Hi!

Can I request a fic where the reader starts realizing they have feelings for Sylus and gets so nervous around him that they can’t resonate anymore?

And Sylus thinks that the reader is scared/disgusted by him again so the reader is forced to confess their feelings to not create a bigger misunderstanding

Thanks!

- 🌻

The moment I got this request I was like HELLO— sunflower anon, you just get me 😌 Anyway! Am back from my break and I hope everyone’s ready for some Vulnerable Sylus™️, because I have got him hot to go!!!

A Gentle Touch

Sylus x Reader 🩸

Summary: You really can’t let Sylus into your head this time— he’s living there rent-free already.

Genre: Angst + Fluff (& some Luke and Kieran shenanigans because they were not feeling the angst)

Warnings/Additional Tags: f!reader, injury detail, mentions of possible trauma, humour, some intimacy at the end 😘, Luke and Kieran are having the time of their lives

| Word count: 3.2k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

If you asked, Sylus would tell you.

You catch glimpses: dark, sharp flickers of something monstrous, maybe even infernal. Blood, everywhere— thick in your mouth and your nose. All over your hands. You feel it, too: a yearning, so intense, and you couldn’t say whom it belongs to. Then there’s death. Searing white. Bottomless black. In the middle of all of it— crimson eyes like dying stars.

Every time you resonate, it envelops you, is laid out bare before you: a nightmare you’re caught in the centre of but forced to watch from outside. An other, a spectator. It’s a show, just for you, but it isn’t quite ready yet; someone’s still rehearsing their lines.

If you asked, Sylus would let you see it. It’s a power you have over him, a constant, self-sacrificial: you want it? It’s yours. So you don’t ask. You never ask. Like words mumbled in a haze of wine or sleep, you let him hold onto it. His hands are open, yes, but you don’t have to take.  

Besides, you have your own, world-changing little secret, and he’s going to see it too.

He’s slumped in front of you, blood sheeting down from two bullet wounds just below his shoulder. He catches his breath— one, two— before he peeks over this desk you’ve overturned for cover. You should be peeking over as well: should be counting your enemies, scouting your next move.

Instead, you’re looking at him and holding back. One minute ago you had no idea where he was, how he was, and it’d been eating away at you from the moment you got separated. Now he’s with you— he found you— and the relief is desperate, gushing; it has to escape somehow. It drips: forbidden daydreams, one after the other, like…

How you want to hold his face and urge him to speak so you can just hear his voice.

How you want to press a hand to his heart and feel the beat of it beneath your palm.

How you want to kiss him, want to taste the blood on his split lip, because this is your story, isn’t it? Messy. Violent. Defiant.

He looks at you, that same blood carving a thin line through the pale of his chin. It drops down onto his silk shirt. “What are you thinking about, kitten?” he grins. His best guess: “This is a fine mess we’ve gotten ourselves into, hmm?”

It’s a fine mess he got you into. “Yeah.” You make yourself look away from him, glancing over the desk to assess how much worse the situation is getting. The answer? Significantly. 

Sylus chuckles, drawing your eyes back as he reloads his gun. “Don’t say I never treat you to anything, sweetie.” He fires a few rounds towards the encroaching danger.

Voices go up across the room. Gunshots ring out, louder. Sylus slinks back down, wincing, holding his shoulder, and his fingers turn red. He deftly undoes the first few buttons on his shirt, peeling it back so he can examine his wounds. His jaw clenches; the punctures aren’t closing over fast enough. It’s too much blood, too quick, and he’ll—

He catches you staring. There’s a sheepish sincerity in the way he smiles, as honest and vulnerable as the holes in his shoulder. He holds out his hand. “Time for an energy storm, don’t you think?”

“No,” you snap. “Save your energy. We might need it later.”

“Oh?” An eyebrow perks up in interest, and it’s just like him to spot a double entendre in the midst of all this chaos.

But you’re staring at his chest through his open shirt and you’re such a hypocrite. “Things might get worse,” you explain.

“Worse?” he repeats as bullets fly over your heads, striking the wall across from you and scattering plaster over the floor. He watches it crumble. “Paint me a picture, kitten— what would worse look like?”

Even Rafayel might struggle with that particular creative prompt.

“Come on,” Sylus insists, using the excuse of your silence to push his hand closer to you. “Now’s not the time to play coy.”

“Sylus, I really don’t—”

He grasps your hand, his fingers locking with yours and squeezing tight. Your heart jumps at the touch. It strangles the protests in your throat and stays there, strung up by anticipation and dread.

You’re feeling so much that it takes you too long to realise nothing is happening.

Sylus’s eyes are fixed on your connected palms. He’s squinting, concentrating, and when that doesn’t work— when your hand is paling in the vice of his— he loosens his grip, his thumb feathering over yours as he mumbles a quick: “forgive me.”

He doesn’t let you go. You can still feel him, all of him, imploring to just let him in.

You don’t, and his eyes meet yours, for a moment— like another bullet has bitten through his flesh. Your mouth drops in fake surprise; you’re always so innocent when you pull a trigger on him.

This time, there’s no wound you can push your hands against in a guilty effort to staunch the bleeding. You have to apologise. Have to stitch it up with every word you’ve been guarding, saving, and it isn’t supposed to be like this. “Sylus, it’s not what you think. I—”

Something metal clatters across the floor behind you, bounces like a failing, stuttering heartbeat, then explodes.

…

“Good news, boss! We figured it out!”

Sylus groans, looking up from a report he’s not really been reading as two figures crash into his room. Not good, he thinks, as Kieran flings himself into the nearest armchair. Whatever this is, it’s not good. Luke settles on its arm.

With a sigh, Sylus removes his reading glasses. They stay, hooked on a finger, as he pushes his hair back like he can feel a headache coming on. His eyes flutter closed, and when they open, the twins are both leaning forward, bristling with excitement.

“Ask us,” Luke whispers in a way that makes Sylus think he might not realise he’s speaking out loud.

Another sigh. “What did you figure out?”

Kieran whips out a tired-looking notepad from behind his back. He clears his throat— “ahem!”— then starts to read: “Reasons why Miss Hunter was not able to resonate with you. Number one...”

“How did you find out about—”

“Sshhhh,” Kieran interrupts, putting a finger to where his lips should be. Sylus’s eyes widen in indignation, and Luke comes to his twin’s rescue, silently indicating Mephisto with a few tips of his head. The crow shrinks down on his perch.

“Number one,” Kieran repeats, matter-of-factly. “Your height.”

“My… height?”

Luke nods solemnly as Kieran continues: “humanityandconquer.com/power-dynamics describes tallness as a ‘natural advantage when trying to dominate a smaller individual.’ You are very tall. Try crouching when you speak to Miss Hunter.” He glances over the top of his notepad. “If you approach her at her level, she’ll know you mean no—”

“Nope. Next,” Sylus dismisses, waving his hand in a fast-forward motion. That headache is coming on.

“Reason two,” Kieran acquiesces, gaze falling, “your eyes.”

“Oh, for gods’ sake—”

“They’re red,” the twin pushes on, “and red means danger. In fiction, red eyes are symony—” he stops, spells it out— “synonymous with the supernatural. Vampires especially. Plus, lots of bad stuff is red.” He’s going off-script. “Blood. Fire. Sunburns.”

“Sunburns are pink,” Luke muses.

“No, like, bad sunburns, y’know?”

“Oh right, yeah.” There’s a shrug of agreement.

Sylus’s will to live is hanging by a thread, and they really don’t have a care in the world, do they? It must be nice. “Thank you,” he murmurs, “for your little investigation. If that’s all, I would—”

“Reason three!” Luke chirps, wiggling the same number of fingers, and Sylus’s head lolls back against the sofa.

“Miss Hunter is struggling to separate this version of you from your first impression,” Kieran says.

Sylus looks up. “What?”

Luke is rubbing his hands together eagerly, like they’ve finally gotten to the good stuff. “Well, you remember how you and Miss Hunter met,” his twin explains.

Words won’t do it justice, apparently, because the man begins to act it out. He reaches to grip Luke by the throat and Luke pretends to choke, fingers clawing at the grasp. Then Kieran stands up— throws Luke down into the chair and pins him there with his foot before snatching up his hand.

“See what I mean?” Kieran asks over his shoulder. “I mean, it must have been pretty traumatic. You kinda tore her away from everything she knew. Forced her to use her power, et cetera, et cetera.”

Sylus has gone quiet. He’s vaguely aware that the twins are moving, saying more, but he can’t hear it. He feels sick. Then he feels something different: someone poking at his arm. A hand is waved in front of his face, but he doesn’t react.

“Oh, we so got it,” Luke whispers conspiratorially behind him.

“Hell yeah we did!” Kieran whispers back.

There’s the sound of them high-fiving, and it spurs Sylus into action. He’s up out of his seat, out of their shadows, and then the door as well— long before they can stop him. He needs to breathe. He needs the cold night air and the quiet, and his strides drive him towards it, but not fast enough.

He’s about to use his Evol. To let himself evaporate so he can be whole again somewhere else, somewhere easier, but then he stops. He’s by an open door, glancing in at a decadent living room, where you’re sprawled over a black leather couch. This isn’t easier. This hurts, and it hurts more as he forces himself to close the distance between you.

You’re still asleep. You’ve been unconscious ever since that grenade went off, and it’s for the best, really; getting out of that place was… messy. Sylus’s shoulder still aches, the blood on his shirt now crusty and dark. Some of it’s his. Some of it’s yours.

He’s not sure why he’s still wearing it.

The twins did a pretty good job of patching you up, but— looking over you— he would have done better. It was his role, after all. His duty to you, or maybe just a reason to get close to you. He couldn’t do it today. Couldn’t touch you, no matter how noble the intention. And a little part of him was glad for the excuse; his hands always shake.

A blanket is half on your legs, half on the floor, and Sylus stoops to collect the edge of it. He draws it over your shoulder, adjusting it around your arms— at rest by your face. He’s close, now, and he…

He can’t help himself. When has he ever been able to help himself? He lifts his hand slowly; he wants to kiss you. Even though your blood is still drying on his shirt and it’s all his fault.

…

Someone’s hand is on your face.

The touch draws you back into consciousness, tender, careful, then suddenly sharp. “Ah,” you hiss. “Sylus?” Always first on your mind and your lips.

“Not even close,” quips the shadow above you.

“Kieran?”

“Bingo.”  

You use your hand to block some of the room’s light as you open your eyes— a birdlike silhouette taking shape through the gaps in your fingers. “Where’s Sylus?” you ask, teeth clenching as the twin applies a thin strip of surgical tape to a cut on your cheek. “Is he ok?”

“Sheesh, relax. He’s fine,” Kieran tuts, then seems to reconsider, “well…”

“He’s brooding,” chimes a voice from behind you. “Out on the balcony.” Luke.

You rub at your eyes, still drowsy with sleep. “Why’s he brooding? What did you do?”

“Told him he traumatised you,” they speak in unison.

“What?! Why would you say something like that?”

“Because it’s true,” Kieran shrugs. “That’s why you and boss couldn’t, you know…” He twinkles his fingers.

Resonate? Ugh. You slide your feet onto the floor, sitting up straight for a solid second before you bury your face in your hands, omitting a few, pained whines. This is such a mess, and it only got worse while you were asleep. First that stupid grenade, now the twins.

A hand pats at your back. “There, there,” Luke soothes.

You turn to glare at him. His hand retreats.

Forget it; you have to find Sylus.

…

You step out onto the balcony, head full of apologies you’ve had all of a minute to prepare, and it isn’t enough. It felt fitting, in the middle of a shootout— everything was allowed to be frantic and from the heart. Here it’s calm, and if you ruin something— break anything— it’s going to be obvious. There’s no other violence to blame.

Sylus must hear you join him, but he doesn’t turn. He’s leant forwards against the rail, one arm folded upon it, the other outstretched: sporting a glass of liquor that hangs from the tips of his fingers and that he swirls gently, his gaze far away.

The twins really weren’t kidding.

“Hey,” you greet, and it’s sort of pathetic, but you don’t know what else to say.

“Hey,” Sylus returns, “are you—” he looks back at you over his shoulder— “are you alright?”

“Yeah,” you smile warmly. “I mean, the twins are giving me a headache, but that’s, like, standard.”  

He smiles back: a courtesy. You’ve seen him grin through almost every type of pain imaginable, but this one is new. Think about what Luke and Kieran said. What he must be thinking. “Sylus, I—”

“You don’t have to explain,” he stops you, turning his body towards you. “Honestly, I’d… rather you didn’t.”

“Why?”

“Why?” he chuckles, masking a deeper hurt as he lifts his glass to his lips. “You’re really going to make me say it?”

You are; you hold his gaze as he takes a deliberately slow sip of his drink. He smirks, surrenders at once and admits: “I’m really not that strong, sweetie. That’s why.”

“What if I want to explain?”

The smirk falters, and his eyes make their own, sad, silent confession. If you want to explain? He’ll let you. He’ll stand here, listening patiently while you call him a thing of nightmares. While you break him, bit by tortuous bit, by reminding him just how frightening he is.

He turns back to the view, shrugs, but none of the tension leaves his shoulders. “Go on, then.”

“Sylus?”

“Mmm?”

“You don’t scare me, you know.”

His hand tightens around his glass. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Pity me,” he grimaces. “I don’t need it. I know what I am. I’d just… forgotten what I was to you.”

Your captor. Your monster. Except that was a lifetime ago and he’s been so many more things to you since then. Tell him. “Sylus…”

“I felt it,” he snaps, because your voice is still so reluctant, and he’s going to save you the trouble. “When we tried to resonate, I felt it— your fear— just as deep as it used to be. I heard that same voice in your head, the one saying you wouldn’t let me in, couldn’t let me in, so don’t tell me I don’t scare you, sweetie.” The term of endearment tastes sour, you can tell. “I know how you feel. I know—”

“I like you, Sylus.”

“…What?”

You couldn’t take it anymore. “I like you,” you say again, and your heart is beating too quickly for eloquence, so you just have simplicity. “You don’t scare me at all, Sy. I care about you. A lot.”

Sylus stares at you, his eyes wide. There’s no confidence. No smile or drawn-out breath of relief. He sets his glass aside on the railing, gaze leaving yours for a moment, and you get the feeling he needs that moment as much as he needed the drink itself.

Then he looks at you again. Asks in a way that makes you ache: “do you mean it?”

Look at him. Your throat stings. “Of course I mean it.”

“Say it again.”

“I mean it, Sylus. I care about—”

His lips are on yours and the rest of your words are lost in his mouth. You, you say with the way you kiss him back, soft and slow, like you’re relishing something that might slip away. You, you insist— your hand finding his face, his hair, as he kisses you deeper, and you, you, you, when he doesn’t stop.

“Is this alright?” he murmurs, his fingers around your chin and his thumb tugging at your bottom lip.

“Mmm,” you confirm, equally breathless.

He laughs as he withdraws a little, still caressing your face like you’re something of a dream. “You’re not making this easy, kitten.”

“Worried you might traumatise me again?”    

It's a low blow. He scoffs. “Luke and Kieran said—”

“Luke and Kieran once bought arts-and-crafts feathers for Mephisto because they thought the colours would make him, and I quote: more aerodynamic.” You pinch his ear playfully. “I can’t believe you let them get to you.”

“I know,” he groans, lifting your hand so he can press chaste kisses along the line of your knuckles. “Not my finest moment.” He guides your palm to his cheek— leans into it as he leans into an idea. “They said you hated my eyes,” he pouts.

You can’t help giggling. He frowns. “I mean— aww, no,” you scramble, but you’re still laughing. You can’t stop. “Your eyes are… yeah. So pretty.”

“You had to think about it?”

“There were just too many adjectives, y’know? I was struggling to—”

He kisses you again, saving you: crushing your laughter with his own, lightheaded smile. His hand finds yours as his lips move against you, your fingers interlocking as you resonate— chasing an instinct, a need to be impossibly closer— and you let him see everything. Feel everything.

It’s a mad tangle of opposites. Heaven. Hell. Life. Death. You don’t know what any of it means, but it’s yours and it’s his and it doesn’t scare you half as much as it should. Sylus breaks your kiss. He pushes his forehead against your own with a sigh of contentment, and it doesn’t scare him, either.  

Savour each second. Think of some better adjectives, while you still have the time.

He’s going to earn every single one.

…

✨Epilogue✨

Inside, staring out through the floor-to-ceiling windows that separate the room from the balcony, Luke and Kieran stand, looking awfully smug.   

“Mission accomplished,” Kieran nods, flipping closed his notepad, aptly titled: 101 Ways To Get Boss Laid! (There are only, currently, fifty-two.)

Luke’s arms are folded. “We’re like, the best wingmen ever.”

Kieran is silent. He repeats carefully: “Wingmen. Wingmen.”

The beaks of the crow masks gradually turn to face one-another. There’s a mutual epiphany, and both twins almost fall over laughing.

[threadbearsweater]

one warm day is all i really need | arthur morgan

When you find yourself taken in by a gang of outlaws, the last thing you expect is to grow sweet on one of them- and have the feelings reciprocated. Arthur Morgan doesn't have time for romantic nonsense, but a few memebers of the gang want to make sure that he gets to indulge in his obvious affection toward you. Tags: 3.9k words, an unlikely romance, meddling gang members (with the purest of intentions, one might suppose); female reader, alcohol use, smoking, emotional smut. A repost from a (regretfully) deactivated blog.

Arthur first notices your eyes on him one evening around the campfire at Shady Belle. He won’t accuse you of staring– Lord knows he’s been known to look at you with the same foolish grin you’re wearing now– but he tips his hat to acknowledge you. The heat in your cheeks is suddenly warmer than what the fire has already provided; your grin only grows until your teeth are showing, and you duck your head into your shoulder to hide. Arthur takes a long swig from his whiskey bottle and grimaces as it goes down. He hasn't had a drop of anything in days, and the burn takes a little while to grow numb to now.

“Think she's sweet on you, Morgan,” Sean says in his Irish lilt, giving Arthur an elbow in the ribs.

“Naw, she's lookin’ at you,” Arthur deflects, though he hopes he's wrong. He thinks he knows.

“She told me last week to keep my eyes on my own work,” Sean continues. “I really don't think it's me she wants, Arthur.”

You turn to whisper something to Sadie, who laughs out loud with her face tilted toward the stars. You dare a glance back at Arthur, who is, in fact, looking at you.

Maybe there's some truth to what Mary Beth told you yesterday.

“Arthur's been awful quiet lately.”

The sun shines through the trees and dapples the table where you're seated with bright spots of pale yellow. It's your third round of dominoes with Mary-Beth, and she's whooping your ass, as usual. You don't know how she does it, but each game you play, you're a little more privy to her prowess.

“You think so? I don't know him as well as you.” You hope it isn't obvious that your heart started beating a little faster at the mention of his name. It leaves you breathless.

“Oh yeah,” Mary-Beth continues. “He's been scratchin’ away in that journal of his a lot more, too.” She leans closer, conspiratorial, her eyes twinkling with the gossip she's about to share. “Karen said he went to town twice last week to have a hot bath. If you knew Arthur like I know Arthur, why…you'd know that's highly out of character for him.”

“But you said he'd been quiet. Is that unusual for him, too?”

She hums and purses her lips. “Well you see, Arthur isn't usually a man of many words on a good day. But it's been real bad lately. He don't even give John a hard time like usual.”

You ponder the dominoes for a moment and then make your move. It doesn't earn you any points, but at least you didn't have to draw. “What do you think the problem is?” you ask, nonchalant as possible.

Mary-Beth smiles. Big and bright and sparkling. “Oh, it's not a problem at all.” She lowers her voice and cups her hand to her mouth. “Arthur's in love.”

You gasp, then giggle behind your hand, and Mary-Beth follows suit. Hosea looks on and shakes his head, so you quiet down, reaching across to grab Mary-Beth's hands. “Who do you think it is?”

Her cheeks are tinted pink, and she looks around to make sure there aren't any ears to hear. Word travels fast around camp if one isn't prudent. “I think it's you.”

A thunderstorm rips through Shady Belle a little over a week later. Your little tent that you share with Sadie is ripped straight off its supports in a terrible gust of wind, and you and the others hightail it inside the house to take cover just as it begins to hail. There's quite a ruckus as everyone huddles inside, windblown and rain-soaked. A few of the men hold up lanterns to illuminate the darkness while you watch the lightning and feel the thunder shake the old bones of the house.

“Everyone just calm down,” Dutch calls, descending the stairs, wearing some ridiculous robe with his arms spread wide. “Are we really gonna let a little old thunderstorm keep us from getting a good night's sleep?”

“Says the man with a bed inside the house,” Arthur bites, rounding the corner from what used to be the kitchen, holding a lantern up high in front of him. “Dutch, you better allow these ladies to take cover in here for tonight, or I'll–”

“Or you'll what, Mister Morgan? Pray tell, what kind of man do you take me for?” Dutch's eyes are fiery as he stares Arthur down; a display of dominance. A veritable cockfight.

Arthur's jaw twitches, but he doesn't back down. “The kind of man I should hope would have some goddamn respect for his family.”

There's a tense moment or two where everyone is quiet, then Dutch relents. “Fine, fine! But I expect everyone out there pitching in to clean up in the morning.” He points at Arthur and raises his voice again. “That includes the other man with a bed inside the house,” he sneers.

Arthur shakes his head, then looks away only to catch sight of you, shivering in your wet undergarments, huddled close to Mary-Beth for what little warmth the two of you can share. For a minute, he forgets to breathe, then composes himself enough to cross the room.

“Come on in here. Get yourself warm and dry by the fire.” His hand on your elbow is rough but warm as he leads you toward the fireplace. You nod and look back at Mary-Beth, who shoos you away with a flick of her wrist and a wink; you notice that her teeth are chattering. Despite the humidity that hangs heavy in the air, the temperature has turned chilly with the storm.

Arms crossed over your bosom to preserve any shred of modesty you might have left, you allow yourself to be led away by Arthur. Dutch and some of the others head upstairs while Charles and Javier keep watch from the front porch.

“You alright?” Arthur asks. He covers your shoulders with one of his heavy winter coats, and you pull it around you, grateful for the weight and warmth of it. Another clap of thunder shakes the house and you jump. Arthur chuckles.

“You laughin’ at me?” you quip, placing your palms flat in the direction of the fireplace. You don't even bother to hide the grin you feel curling on your lips.

“No madam, I am not,” Arthur says earnestly, taking a seat beside you on the old wooden crate he's set up as a makeshift bench.

“Then just what do you find so funny, Mister Morgan?”

He scratches the back of his neck, looking into the flames. “Aw, I dunno. I'm sorry. It's just that you're…”

You bump him with your hip, unable to stop the giggles that bubble up from your chest. “I'm what?” you pry.

There's a clatter of something falling on the front porch, and Arthur uses it as a good excuse to get out of this hole he's dug for himself. “I better go see what's going on out there. Charles might need my help.”

“I'm what, Arthur?!” you call, to no avail. He's gone before he can see the proverbial hearts in your eyes.

The saloon in Rhodes is a little nicer than the ones you visited in Valentine, though it's a far cry from the ones you used to frequent in Saint Denis. Still, when Sadie and the other girls decide that it's high time you have a little fun in town, you throw on your best dress and let Karen curl your hair and even apply a little of the makeup you snagged from a homestead up north. For the first time in months, you feel like a proper woman. There isn't time to be melancholy about the past, though, when the boys start whistling and cat-calling upon the sight of you and the other girls.

“Aw, knock it off!” Sadie hollers. She's decided to dress up a little tonight, too, much to everyone's surprise. But she hikes up her skirts to hop into the wagon, calling for the rest of you all to hurry it up. “I've got a bottle of rum with my name on it that's waiting for me to come drink her all down!”

You catch the sunset on the way to town. It's dazzling over the meadows, all golden light and warm, blazing oranges and reds that settle into a brilliant pink by the time your reach the main road into Rhodes. You wish you could see Arthur's eyes, but he's got a handle on the reins next to Charles in the front of the wagon. You've seen him watching the sunset before; he always looks so peaceful those evenings at camp, and you often wonder what he thinks about in those few minutes before the horizon is painted in pastel hues.

Karen starts singing a song that everyone eventually joins, and before you know it, you're pulling up in front of the Rhodes Parlour House. You can already hear the piano and a few voices from outside; the sound of it stirs something in your soul that makes you long for the familiarity of home, but you quickly shove it aside in favor of the company of your new family.

“Madam.” Arthur's voice brings you out of your thoughts and back into the present, where he waits at the back of the wagon with his hand extended to you. You beam at him, and he feels dizzy. And when your soft hand fits into his, he straightens his knees so they don't buckle and betray him.

“Why, thank you, kind sir,” you say, lifting the hem of your skirts to step out onto the dirt road.

Arthur leans in, dangerously close to your ear. You can smell the whisky and cigarettes on his breath, along with the faint tang of gunpowder and hair pomade. “You sure do look nice in that dress.”

You demure and fan yourself with your hand. “Just how much have you had to drink already tonight?” you giggle.

“Ahh, just a little nip to take the edge off.”

“Mm-hm. Sure, Arthur. Whatever you say.”

The night starts off relatively calm, as most nights do. You and the other girls find an empty table to sit and pick up on the town gossip, and the men start a hand of poker. It grows loud and crowded sometime around midnight, and it's hard to have a conversation without shouting over the din of voices, the clink of glass bottles, and the slow drag ragtime music from the piano. The ambiance is charming and lighthearted, and there are even a few couples drunkenly dancing on the porch.

You push back in your chair and find that when you stand, you're a little more wobbly than you thought you would be. The alcohol has loosened you more than you realize, and you grip the table for support until you feel a firm arm around your waist. “Whoa there.”

It's Arthur, who has won the last round of poker and has come to check in on you and the other ladies. You're pulled tight against his chest for one fleeting moment, and you look up into his eyes. He, too, seems drunk, with his eyes gleaming and drooping at the corners, his smile easy and his cheeks flushed.

“My knight in shining armor,” you slur, pretending to faint in his embrace. He only pulls you tighter against him, both of his broad hands splayed across your back. You laugh, and he smiles.

“You weren't getting another drink, were ya?” he questions with a raise of his brow.

“‘m thirsty,” you whine, lifting your empty glass entirely too close to his face. It knocks against his nose, which sends you into another fit of laughter.

Arthur takes your wrist– gentle but firm– and lowers the glass away. “Think you need to drink something that's not whiskey,” he drawls. You can't help but watch the way his lips form around the words; the slip of his tongue between his teeth, the way his mouth turns up into the hint of a smile when you pout. Before you can think too long and hard about it, you lunge forward and kiss him. Hard and clumsy and impulsive. You don't give him time to react. You're far too involved in the kiss to notice, but the girls at the table behind you have all gone silent. Arthur slides his hand along the side of your face and presses his fingers upon the nape of your neck, kissing you back like he really means it. (He really does.)

You pull back suddenly, breathless and reeling, swiping the back of your hand over your mouth. You're still held firm in his embrace, but the playfulness in his gaze has been replaced with an intensity that makes your knees weak all over again.

“What'd ya do that for?” he asks.

“Could ask you the same thing.”

“Well, you started it.”

“And you finished it.”

“Oh, I ain't finished with you, yet.”

“That a promise or a threat?” Your pulse is thumping wildly in your ears.

“Ya know, they got rooms upstairs for that!” Sadie shouts. There's a ripple of laughter across the table. Arthur's hand on your cheek feels like a brand, his arm about your waist an anchor. The rest of the room comes back to you in a woozy blur, and you look around, a little lovestruck and a whole lot drunk. Arthur's lips at your temple make your eyes flutter shut, and the room fades to black as tIt'weight of you slumps against him. He staggers only slightly, but holds you firm, chuckling softly.

“It's a promise,” he whispers.

You come to some hours later. Your mouth is dry as the desert, your head feels like lead, your skin broken out in a cold, uncomfortable sweat. At some point, it seems you were covered with a downy soft blanket, and the pillow at your head is much more fluffy than the makeshift one you made out of a bedroll at camp. At first, you think you're dreaming. Then, you wonder very briefly if you're back at your childhood home in Saint Denis. You almost call out to your mother when you hear a soft snore from the other side of your bed.

The room spins when you turn your head, and you rub your eyes until Arthur comes into focus. He's sprawled in an armchair a few feet away. His arms are crossed over his chest while his chin is tucked into his chest. Off to the side, you spy his boots; his big toe pokes through a hole in his sock and you smile at how vulnerable he looks.

“Arthur,” you whisper, shifting slightly as you pull the blanket up around your chin.

He grunts and lifts his head slowly. He frowns a little at first, but when he focuses on you lying there, so close he could reach out and kiss you again like he did last night, there's a slow, easy smile that spreads across his face.

“Hey there, party girl. You feeling alright?”

You could kick yourself for all the giggling you've done around him lately, but you can't help it. He brings out something giddy and downright foolish inside you, so you toss a pillow at him and bury your face in the sheets.

“Aw, come on now. I'm just messin’ with ya.” He leans forward and rubs your head affectionately. “I'd say you were feeling pretty good last night.”

It's in that moment a white-hot jolt of sheer panic shoots down your spine. Quickly, you check to make sure you're still wearing clothes. Aside from your breasts being a little lopsided in the confines of your bodice, you're relieved to find that your dress is still intact and– more importantly– on your body. You dare another peek at Arthur and notice that his shirt is unbuttoned down to the middle of his chest and he's discarded his vest somewhere, but he, too, is fully clothed. Thank the good Lord above.

You must've said that last part aloud, because Arthur laughs. “Don't worry, nothing happened. Though it weren't for lack of tryin’ on your part,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “Thought I was gonna have to lock you in here like some feral cat till you settled down.”

Oh. Oh Lord. You try to recall what happened that led you to this room, but all that comes to mind is a lot of loud conversation, some dancing, a spilled drink across Sadie's lap, and Arthur's hand on the side of your cheek. “Oh…”

Now you remember it in vivid detail.

“Didn't know you cared for me like that,” he says. It's earnest and tender, a few shades less intense than the kiss you now recall, the one where it felt like he wanted to eat you alive right there in the middle of the saloon. Now, he thumbs your cheek and looks at you so fondly you swear your heart jumps right up in your throat. “I mean, I'd been hoping. Wasn't sure you was looking for a romance.” He huffs a short sigh, frustrated with himself. “Aw, hell, what am I saying? ‘Course you weren't. You're just looking to survive, just like the rest of us, and here I–”

“Shut up,” you say, taking hold of his hand and tugging him closer. He resists until you pull even harder, watching the fire in your eyes blaze to life. “You talk too much, Yankee.”

“I ain't no damn–”

“Kiss me.”

He's over you in an instant; you're pressed flat against the bed, completely and totally at his mercy. This kiss feels different than the drunken one last night. It's sober and honest, if not a little hesitant, as if he's holding himself back from devouring you wholly. The warmth of his body against yours takes your breath away. Or maybe it's the way his tongue laves heavy into your mouth, unashamed of how badly he craves the taste of you. You grip his hair at the roots and tug him down to kiss him harder, lifting your upper body to meet him until he presses down, his chest flush with yours.

Things get heated quickly.

His mouth moves across your cheek, down your neck, and he groans against your skin, rutting his cock against your thigh. You fleetingly wish that he had managed to get you out of that dress before he presumably tucked you into bed and passed out in that chair, because there’s a whole lot of fabric between you and him that really pisses you off right now. Arthur must feel much the same, because he’s bunching your skirts up past your knees while you’re fumbling with his belt buckle, desperate to feel him against you, inside you. It’s clumsy and crazed, rushed and rough, but you manage somehow to shuck off every last bit of your clothes and his until you’re breathless and so, so eager beneath him.

“Need you now,” you whine. You feel insane. Dizzy and dehydrated, impossibly turned on, every nerve ending on fire when his callused hands grip the fat of your thighs and open you to him.

“Greedy little thing, ain’t ya?” One of his hands slips between your legs to find you wet and swollen. He presses the pad of his thumb against your clit and pushes a finger inside you; the sound you make nearly has him finishing there on the sheets, so he wastes no time in getting himself as close to you as humanly possible.

“Never wanted something so bad,” he murmurs into the dip of your shoulder. He wants all of you– all at once– wants to fuse his hands against your skin and sink himself into you so deep that it would be impossible to tell where he ends and you begin. The heat from his body takes away what little breath you have left, his mouth on each part of your body building the buzz in your chest until you feel like you might just burst open. You grabbed at each other like it was the first and last time you might have this opportunity, as if you wanted more than what the other of you was able to give.

Considering the kind of life you’ve both led so far, it’s a good possibility that you might never get to do this again.

“Give it to me,” you plead, opening yourself further to him, fingers wrapped firm around the base of his cock. “Please.”

Arthur Morgan is a man of incredible strength and self restraint, except when it comes to a woman like you.

There’s nothing gentle about the way he takes you. It’s primal, sweaty, filthy, rough. Arthur pushes as far inside you as he can go, then pushes further when you beg for more. He cups your knees with slick palms and presses you open as far as you can bend; you tug roughly at his hair and bite down on his shoulder when the pleasure builds to a blinding ferocity. The wooden bedframe knocks angrily against the wall with each thrust, but you can’t bring yourself to care if anyone hears. You can’t focus on anything beyond the feeling of him filling you with every stroke of his cock, of the taut, corded muscle in his back and shoulders as you grapple to hang on as tight as you can. Your orgasm hits your hard and fast, and he encourages you through it, taking his time to give you long, controlled strokes. It’s as pleasurable for him as it is for you. “‘Atta girl,” he rasps, lips moving against your ear. Your hand flies to your mouth to muffle your cries, but he pulls it away and threads his fingers with yours, pressing it onto the pillow. “I wanna hear it.”

Your moans are what drive him over the edge.

He buries his face against the side of your neck, panting heavily as he comes, driving into you so hard that you can almost feel the mattress beneath you begin to sag under the weight. You cradle his head in your hands and link your legs around his waist, boneless and languid in the aftermath of your own pleasure. When he moves, you move with him, riding out the waves together until you’re both too tired to move another muscle.

Neither of you speak for a while. He lies on his back with an arm around your shoulders while you curl against him, tuned into his heartbeat and swirling little patterns into the hair on his chest. It’s comforting to feel him next to you, to watch his chest rise and fall as he steadies his breathing, to soak up the warmth of his skin against yours.

You’re the first to break the silence. “Did everyone else go back to camp last night?”

Arthur nods slowly. “Something tells me they planned all this.”

“Planned it? You mean…” You lift your arm slowly and flick your wrist to acknowledge the room you’re laying in. “This?” You lift your chin and grin at him. “Or getting us together?”

“Room was paid for before I even had a chance to ask if they had one,” he explains. “Think it was Mrs. Adler.”

You vaguely recall her shouting something about a room after you kissed Arthur last night, and you shake your head. “You complaining?”

He turns to his side, draping an arm across your hip. “Me? Never.” You’re suddenly pressed beneath him once again; from the looks of it, you won’t be getting out of this bed anytime soon. “Specially when I’ve got you here to help me keep warm.”

[sincerelyneo]

omg hello! i missed you so much!!! 💖 would you consider reposting arcade again?? it was legit the best thing i’ve ever read omg i was so sad when i couldnt find it anymore

its fine if you cant tho!! im glad youre backkkk💖💖💖

ofc i can, i’m glad you liked it <3

arcade | p.js

“i’m out of control, full power up”

💿now playing: arcade by nct dream

❯ summary: Jisung’s been nothing but busy lately, so when you hear he got the weekend of your anniversary off, you can’t help but plan something to spend time with him. Expect, the only thing jisung wants after his busy month is you — and he’s not gonna let your silly arcade date get in the way of that.

❯ pairings: jisung x fem!reader

❯ genre: established relationship, smut, fluffish.

❯ words: 3.5k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, smut, fingering, exhibitionism, reader uses she/her pronouns, use of the name baby, jisung takes pictures whilst fingering reader in a photobooth idk???

"You brought us to an arcade for our three year anniversary?"

You look over to Jisung standing by your side as the pair of you stood in front of the arcade entryway with the giant neon sign above your heads.

"Yeah, surprise - who doesn't love a date night with pizza and an arcade?" You grin, trying to hide the look of nervousness fighting to show once you notice his frown.

“Baby,” he groans, whiny, “I thought we were gonna go home after the pizza.”

You may have lied to him about that.

When you told Jisung about tonight’s date, he originally objected. He wanted to have a chilled night in with just the two of you — alone. Something he hadn’t had for the past four weeks he’d been strung up at work. Yet, you insisted that the two of you celebrated your three year anniversary just like you had done for your first and second.

So instead, the two of you came up with a compromise: head to your favourite pizza place, then come home and watch a movie snuggled together on the couch. In Jisung’s mind ‘watch a movie’ was code for letting his hands roam all over your body whilst he watched you whither and squirm, but he figured it was best to not discuss the minute details.

But don’t get him wrong. Just because he wanted to have a quiet night in didn't mean he hasn’t missed you — because oh he has. He’s only bothered the rest of the dreamies with his annual ‘I miss her’ speech every other hour.

And whilst typically Jisung loved to spend every passing minute of the day with you; right now, all he could think about was how much he wanted to be balls deep in the cunt he’d missed so much — not spending his time in some arcade.

"I haven't been inside one of these since I was a little kid," you tell him. “Please Sungie, just for an hour.” You begin tugging on his hands.

“I don’t know, Y/N. Aren’t we a bit too old to be playing in the arcade?” he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Pretty please!”

You hope the small flutter in your eyelashes is enough to win over the hesitant man. And you know it will because he’s told you several times not to give him those signature doe eyes, because he can’t ever bring himself to say no to them.

"Fine."

He grasps your hand, threading your fingers together as he starts to lead the two of you inside. You're instantly greeted with the loud electronic sound effects from the various games, along with the random music playing inside.

There's lights flashing everywhere, and you notice a bunch of people sitting at the bar and in booths near the front of the arcade, along with a bunch wandering around all of the games.

Jisung looks sideways before gesturing his head to the row of retro games, "what do you wanna play?" He asks.

“You can pick first, because I’m such a good girlfriend.”

He can’t help but smile at you — because he knows you're right.

“How about we play some pinball?

"I take it back," you say with a pointed look, "I’ve seen you play that with Chenle and I’m definitely gonna lose.”

“Too late, you’ve already given me the power,” he shrugs and pulls your arm over to where the game is situated.

“Ugh, Jisung. There’s no point, I already know I’m gonna lose,” you try to protest.

“Stop complaining,” he grasps your hips to turn you around to face the pinball machine then comes to stand behind you.

He takes your hands and places them on the buttons either side of the machine in front of you. You feel your cheeks flush when you feel Jisung’s chin rest on your shoulder, as he guides your fingers over the controls and silently coaches you through the game.

You don’t know how he always does it but even here, he's managing to create some form of sexual tension between the two of you at a pinball machine.

“Jisung..” you whisper as he places teasing kisses along your neck.

“Shhh, I’m just trying to help you out,” his lips brush against your neck as he continues hitting the buttons at a constant steady speed. “Besides, I think I’ve found my new favourite way to play pinball tonight."

Eventually, the ball shoots straight down between the two flippers, drawing the game to an end. He’d been doing so well that you wanted to turn around and kiss him but he pressed you harder against the machine, dipping into the crook of your neck to tease your ear.

"You've got no idea how badly I wish I could bend you over this and fuck you right here, right now."

It sent shivers down your whole body as you felt him grin against your skin when he noticed the sharp inhale of air you sucked in at his words.

Jisung knows you're shy, so he’s not surprised that you try to snake away from his grip at his crude remark.

"Look, we got a new high score," he says while he slips his hands from over yours and slides them up your arms. Pretending he didn't just whisper something that dirty. “We make a pretty good team.”

“Yeah ‘cause you did all the work,” you sulk.

You see the red digital writing flashing on the scoreboard, then his arms snake around to link across your lower stomach and pull you firmer against him. To anyone watching you look like a typical couple being affectionate, but the tension makes it feel the furthest thing from innocent.

"You know exactly what you're doing right now, Jisung Park," you huff, trying to control how flustered you feel, "We’re here to play games."

He presses a kiss to your cheek, before murmuring, "I am playing games. And so far I think I'm winning."

As he speaks he lets one of his hands slip down to graze over the front of your crotch, which he swears is an accident when you sternly say his name. But you can’t deny the way the touch made you jolt before he pulls away and steps back. You’d missed his touch — missed being with him like this.

But this was not the place. So you take his hand and turn the two of you to walk off like nothing happened.

The two of you continued to play a handful of arcade games. The classics, retro games, new games — Jisung had even managed to secure you a fluffy teddy bear from the claw game after you mentioned it being ‘impossible’.

You’d been taking it in turns to choose a game each, but when you mentioned the arcade photo booth, your boyfriend had started to get apprehensive.

After some of your amazing buttering up skills with puppy dog eyes, he agreed and he pulled the curtain back for you to get inside, then closes the door on the booth.

He sat down first on the small seat, and when you went to sit next to him he grabbed your waist and pulled you down onto his lap instead. He takes some coins from his pocket and starts putting them in the slot.

You try to get off his lap to sit beside him before the timer starts but he doesn’t let you.

“Just look at the camera and smile."

Once you hear the timer counting down the two of you start posing. But just before the last beep sounds, you get the idea to grab hold of Jisung’s face and let your lips mush against his cheek causing him to scrunch his nose up.

"That’s not fair," he says the second he hears the beeping start again.You stick your tongue out at him and his eyes narrow. “Fine, if that’s the game we’re playing.”

You both look back at the camera and offer smiles, kisses and peace signs. But at the last beep, Jisung gets the idea to move both of his hands to cup over your chest, groping your boobs.

Your mouth falls open as you gasp in shock while Jisung starts laughing.

You try to pull his hands away, "Okay fine, point taken mister grabby hands."

Jisung is practically giggling to himself, whilst you wait for the timer to start again.

“Alright alright, we'll take a serious one now.” He says, placing his chin on your shoulder, as you both look at the camera.

But once again, as the third beeping starts he quickly says, “Do you think people would notice if I made you cum while we're in here?"

Your body stiffens in shock as the picture is taken. Jisung is bursting with laughter and you're taken aback.

Jisung likes sex. He loves sex in fact — especially with you. But he never does this. Sure he teases you when you're out and about — how could he not when you’re so beautiful and perfect for him. But he’s never insinuated doing something so sexual in public like this before.

But here the two of you are. Waiting for the timer to start again, but this time you’re anticipating the shit he was going to pull when the final beep comes — and he does not disappoint. Because his hands slide up your legs, dipping into your inner thighs and squeezing them.

"Jisung," you warn him, "behave yourself."

The beeping starts again, but Jisung doesn't move his hands, and starts to massage his fingers higher.

When the last tick happens, he moves his face to press a kiss to your jaw, and you feel his breath hitting your skin from his nose.

He starts to inch your legs a bit further apart to let his thumbs graze over the crease where your thighs meet your pelvis.

“Ive missed you so fucking much baby,” he whines. “I need you so bad.”

“Jisung not here,” you sigh as his hands start working to warm up your skin.

“Why not? Wouldn’t you like the thought of me getting you off in here? Trying not to get caught?"

If his face wasn't so close to yours you wouldn't be able to hear him over the loud music in the arcade and how low his voice has gotten.

You give him a confused frown, thinking he surely can't be fucking serious but when you do he takes the opportunity to press his lips against you, kissing you while the camera snaps the last picture.

Your stomach is knotting along with your heart beating faster and you feel that familiar heat between your legs but you’d never tell him that — and he’d never tell you that he knows you keep it from him.

"Would you?" He asks again when he breaks the kiss.

You look at him like he's lost his mind. "You're joking right?" You can't be serious - Jisung people get their pictures taken in here, someone could walk in, you can't-"

He makes your words stop and your breath hitch in your throat as he moves his hand up under your skirt and cups his hand between your legs.

"That's not what I asked you," he says letting his eyes trace over your face, then leans closer, "Would you enjoy it?"

“Jisung, this is so unlike you, are you even hearing what you’re asking me?”

He moves his leg a bit and wedges his heel against the edge of the door so it can't be pulled open, "I know exactly what I’m asking you, so answer me."

"We’re supposed to be taking pictures, Sung,” you try changing the subject, and ignore the pressure of his hand pressed against you.

"Oh god we will," he says like it should be obvious.

And now you’re looking even more caught off guard.

“I'd fucking kill to have some pictures of you getting off. Have them to look at them whenever I’m needy and miss you.”

Jisung starts to massage the heel of his palm very slowly against you, adding more pressure over your underwear as you try to squeeze your legs closed but he holds them with his other hand to keep them apart.

"We can't-" it takes very fibre in your body to attempt to protest this, but you easily allow him to cut you off.

"Yes we fucking can," he has that sly look on his face, "But if you don't want to, we won't. It's up to you. Should I stop?"

You exhale a weak breath as he replaces the heel of his palm with his fingers dancing over your underwear, massaging slow circles that make your hips shift.

"Won’t people think it's weird if we're in here too long." you fumble over your words which makes Jisung smile while he bites on his lip.

"Don't worry I'll be quick," he says knowing you’re only making excuses instead of admitting what you really want.

Your eyes drift closed as you sigh, feeling his fingers move against you to create a friction that's only making the throb between your legs worsen. You have absolutely no common sense when it comes to this man and his fucking fingers.

"Should I stop?" He repeats in a low voice, moving his mouth to start to kiss along your jaw.

As usual with him, your functioning brain checks out while your subconscious takes over and you shake your head feeling your breathing start to go shallow.

"You want me to make you cum, yeah? Is that right baby?" His words are slightly muffled as he moves his free hand from your inner thigh and brushes your hair back over your shoulder so he can move his mouth to your neck, "I need words baby."

You should be rational and tell him to stop. But you don't. You wouldn’t dare. You didn’t want him to. So instead you say what you do want, and breathe out a quiet "yes."

Jisung’s own breathing is getting heavier, and the tension in this small enclosed space feels like it's compressing both of you closer together. When he hears your approval, his hand between your legs bunches up the front of your skirt. When he slips it up he snakes his hand over your stomach to push down into your underwear.

A faint groan echoes in Jisung’s throat the second his fingers feel your bare skin, exploring around your underwear to feel the slickness there.

"You’ve made a mess. Missed me this much, huh?” his voice is low, while he drags his warm lips up your neck.

You only manage to nod your head, your brain focused on squirming your hips to find some kind of friction again. He finally rests the pads of his fingers against your throbbing clit, starting to tease circles that force a quiet whimper out of you. Your eyes are still closed as excitement and neediness flood your nerves.

For doing something that should be wrong, it feels so damn right, and it's all you can think of. Feeling him is all you can think about.

"You sure I can take some pictures?" He checks, keeping his movements steady as your hips start to circle against his hand,

You don't respond at first—you can’t—too caught up in how this is feeling, and when he dips his fingers down to your pussy to collect more arousal on his fingers before moving back to your clit and applying more pressure, your head falls forward as you pant out a strained, "You - fuck, yes, you can."

He chuckles hearing how fucked out you are for him, and he’s only just started. But it’s when you hold onto the thigh he’s been using to pry your legs open that his eyes darken with need.

He keeps his fingers moving while he manages to get some coins he had in his pocket, reaching forward to put them into the coin slot, then pressing the button to start the timer.

When he relaxes back he applies a firmer pressure, and starts to massage your clit in quicker circles; making your mouth drop open with a gasped moan. You can barely hear the beep for the picture anymore, everything around you turning blurry, and all you can hear is your heart beat mixed your heavy breathing.

"That's it baby," he coos, with a gravel to his voice from the tension in it, "God I wish I could fuck you right now. I’ve been dying for it.”

Your skin is burning up, and all you can manage in response is the pants from your open mouth, desperately trying to keep yourself quiet.

You start to grind yourself against him as his fingers work, and feel the hard bulge forming in his pants underneath your ass.

He wasn't kidding when he said he'd be quick, he's already building the pressure in your lower belly, making your stomach muscles tighten, while he moves his fingers in the exact way he knows you love it.

That knot in your lower half tightens, and your legs start to tremble as a louder moan you can't stop comes out of your mouth.

"Fuck—Jisung," you whimper, with your chest starting to heave with rapid uneven breaths.

He only quickens his fingers driving with determination and speed, making sure to keep repeating the same movements that are getting the best reactions from you and when your head falls back as you moan again; his free hand comes up to cover your mouth.

"Shhhh—quiet, remember?" He hushes against your ear, groaning at the feeling of you grinding against him, "I know you wanna cum baby, but there’s no way I’m letting anyone else hear how you sound for me.”

All you can manage is a muffled "mhm" against his hand as your eyes squeeze tighter. That familiar sensation starts to ripple from your centre down your legs and into the rest of your limbs.

The orgasm is speeding towards you, faster than anticipated causing your back to arch up as your hips writhe. Your mind is foggy only able to make out quiet whispers of encouragement coming from Jisung.

As the release ripples through your body and your moans are muted against his hand, Jisung groans again, feeling you shake on top of him. He can’t help but snap his hand away to grasp at your jaw to turn your face and kiss you hard while you ride through your climax.

The kiss is mostly open lips grazing against each other, or trying to connect in messy motions with both of your laboured breathing mixing together. His fingers only pause when you try to pull yourself away from them.

Once your eyes drift open to see Jisung’s, the look in them makes you want to squeeze your legs together again if you could move them currently.

Jisung brings his hand up, and grazes his pointer and middle finger he just used to send your body into a frenzy against your lower lip as a silent request for you to open your mouth. You don’t deny it, taking them into your mouth to taste yourself.

“Fucking hell,” his eyes dart back and forth from your eyes to your mouth. His head rolls back against the wall behind you and he whines in the quiet, "God fucking help me."

Your body is still buzzing, floating down dazed from the high it was on, and you watch Jisung bite down on his lower lip as his brows knit tight together, as his hips shift beneath you.

"Everything okay, Sungie?" It’s the only thing your mushed brain can think of saying as you look down at his strained pants.

"Fuck no," he mumbles, looking like he's trying to compose himself, "But it’s my own fault. I suggested we do this. I’ll deal with myself later.”

"Later?" You ask.

Jisung lifts his head back up, leaning forward to press a kiss to your cheek as he rubs his palm up and down your thigh, "Yeah, later. When we get home and we watch that movie you promised me.”

He thinks you don’t know that he uses the movie thing as a code to fuck you — but you do know — and that’s why you’ve never protested when he puts on another one of those Harry Potter movies he loves.

"You sure you'll be able to wait that long?"

Jisung’s lips lift up at the corners, "I’ve waited weeks for this, I’m sure I can manage a couple more hours.”

He hugs you against him with his arms around your stomach, and back against his firm chest.

"But then again,” he begins “Now I have the memory of how fucking hot watching you get off in here was. That makes waiting like some kind of sick torture to me."

You let out a weak laugh, feeling your cheeks flush more than they already were, "I still can't believe we just did this."

"I can, and there's pictures to prove it," he smiles, pulling the strip of three black and white photos from the dispenser.

[marstons-angel]

WHAT SET YOU FREE, BROUGHT YOU TO ME BABY.

rdr2 men + short blurbs about their favorite sex positions.

ft. arthur morgan, john marston, javier escuella, and charles smith.

✧ tags : SPOILER HEAVY, fem + afab!reader, unprotected sex, light angst (in the horny post is crazy im sorry fdkjjkds), very gendered language, javier says one thing in spanish (thank u @nanamimizz), a little sprinkle of plot with each (and some canon divergency), john co-parents w abigail, otherwise just horny. 18+

✧ wc : about 1.4-8k each (6.3k total)

✧ a/n : sorry for making a multi character post for the cowboy game its cooking me to death. my john bias is showing rip. title is from rebel yell by billy idol but i listen to the bvb cover

sorry about charles and javiers but if i edit this anymore im going to level an entire city using hollow purple technique. please rb if you enjoyed i worked kind of hard on whatever this is.

sorry for . the THIRD repost of this i promise i wont after this. its just really bugging me. PLEASE

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ ARTHUR MORGAN + PRONE BONE ; 

It’s an odd feelin’ for Arthur. 

Wanting something, he means. Wanting anything as much as he wants you. He’s lived a less than quiet life up until now. And he ain’t the brightest, certainly, but living this kind of life teaches you many lessons. One of them being, it’s better not to covet anything. Coveting something you’re not entitled to, well—it’ll lead you places you wouldn’t want to go with a gun. 

Arthur has made the mistake of coveting love before, dreamed of a future so completely out of his reach he almost convinced himself it was possible. Dreamed of it so foolishly he’d even go visit a woman he very well ought to forget. It’s his problem, his burden to bear - always desiring outcomes unsuited to him. 

He’s just that sort of man he reckons. But he learned his lesson. He tries (tried?) to stay away from it after that. Tried not to pine too much for normalcy when such hopes had failed him twice. The loss of his child completely on his account and the loss of his love at the same fate. 

So, wanting you - well, he feels like the world's dullest fool. Really. How is it that Arthur had fallen in love with someone again? It had all just happened so quickly. You were another woman he’d saved from the O’Driscolls, though it wasn’t like you were no damsel. A lot of those men were dead by the time they arrived. That sort of perseverance would stick with you while you traveled together. Much like Sadie, you didn’t take well to housework - you liked to earn your keep. Though you’re not nearly so trigger happy. 

You’re quiet, thoughtful, well-read. Plus you’re good at making money. That’s why Dutch don't complain about you joining them, he figures. 

(Arthur tries not to pry into it too much at first, but he eventually learns that you’re gambling. Which is how you’re able to make such a fast turn around. A prim little lady like you makes for a fine poker player, and you love to play men out of their money. He thinks it’s one of the funniest and most interesting things about you. He can’t help but love you a little more for it. )

When the feelings in him start to stir, Arthur tries to overlook it. Arthur convinces himself, time and time again - that there’s no way he’ll grow more tender about you. Eventually, it’ll die down. You’re a decent woman is all, a kind one - who’s easy for him to love and even easier for him to confide in. In your time together, you often come to Arthur and you always seem to have some profound wisdom he is so sorely lacking. Someone easy to love, who does not expect much from Arthur at all. It’s only natural a lonely, covetous man like him would start to dream about you. He tells himself, it will pass eventually. Should he simply let it run by him, it will pass. But Arthurs a fool, you’ll remember. 

 Of course, by the time he understood all that - he already loved you enough that he couldn’t bear it. It was already too late and it wasn’t going to change any time soon. Especially not while everything changed around him. 

So, Arthur is undoubtedly a fool, but he’s lucky. He felt divinely blessed when you’d returned his feelings for him so politely. A coy little smile on your face, a laugh like you thought he was silly for being doubtful. Arthur tried to explain himself but you wouldn’t hear a word of it. Maybe that’s another thing he loves so much about you. There’s nothing he ever needs to explain. 

In any case, all Arthur seems to do lately is want you. Wants you when it’s inconvenient. Wants you before he wants liquor or a cigarette or some other vice. Any time anything goes wrong, you’re the first thing his mind can conjure up for relief. That pretty smile and that self-assured way of living. It’s hard to get time alone in camp. And Arthur is a man in love, so any touch could be enough to set him on fire. Last week you hugged his waist a little before giving him a kiss goodbye and he had to listen to you laugh yourself into a fit as he waited for…little Arthur to settle down. 

He don’t get many chances to be with you. Lay with you in that way that grown folk in love do. Though, if the two of you book it somewhere for a few days - the camp knows better not to ask where you’ve been. But it’s not often you get to really be together, where it’s peaceful to do that. Someone’s always hounding one of you to do something. 

Arthur is a lucky man though, like he said. Today he had time. Today he’s alone with you in a beat up little saloon and today he gets to do as he likes. He gets to be greedy. And it’s an odd feeling for him, really, to want something so bad he disregards everything else in the world for a little while. 

Feeling you, though - absolves the guilt for wanting. He’d be stupid to want you any less desperately. 

Arthur’s favorite way to have you is on your stomach. Laid flat, just barely pushed up against him as he fucks you deep. You’ll fuck like rabbits for a little while and Arthur will wear you out just like this, maneuvering you until you’re pinned all underneath his weight. You lose any fight you might have, too exhausted to worry yourself with pleasing him - and when you’re like that, you let Arthur take care of you. 

(He really ain’t talented at much, but he’s good with his hands. Being dexterous is part of being a talented shot. When Arthur has the time to spread you sweet in his lap and make you cum all over his fingers, he does so for as long as he can. At least until you beg him so sweetly otherwise. The same hands, soiled with gunsmoke, look so good so deep in you. At least in his eyes.)

Wet and pliable and helpless. Arthur loves you like that. He knows, he knows you’re anything but - but he’d be damned to pretend this don’t feel best. Tight, wet cunt so welcoming from all the pleasure he’s ripped out of you. Your bodies pressed together, your heartbeat pulsing through your skin. All sticky, honeyed need and animal desire as Arthur lets all of him sink on top of you. His heavy, lumbering form crushing you in - trapping you somewhere you can’t run from him. The curve of your spine pushed against his chest, ticklish. 

Every inch of his body that so wholly wants for you, Arthur aches to make you feel. Burn it in you lest anything happens that risks your forgetting. 

He can feel his hips meet your ass, backside squished against him - desperate for deeper friction. Whining. You’re whining to him so pretty, a pillow pushed underneath you to give friction to needy clit. 

Arthur can feel how much you want more. Maybe Arthur is greedy, but he likes that look much better on you. Your pussy is sucking him in so tight, silken walls pulsing with every shallow little measured thrust. Arthur lets his arm wrap around your neck, your face pressing into his bicep. You moan again and he laughs. 

“Arthur,” Your words come out in a messy slur. He lets his scruffy face press against your neck, a kiss behind your ear. He wants to kiss you all over. There’s not enough hours in the day. “Oh, god, Arthur,” 

“Still feels good, then, I’m guessin’,” 

“Shut up,” You huff and press your cheek into his arm. He doesn’t bother stifling his laugh. “Still feels…big. Stretchin’ me out—hicc—so much,” 

You really don’t try to rile him up - but you do a damn good job of it anyway. He groans, grunts as he pulls back and pistons himself in you. A gesture half-way between a kiss and the warning shot of a gun. The sound of skin hitting skin echoes, noisy and vulgar. Arthur don’t pay it much mind. He laughs against your shoulder.

“One of these days, that moutha’ yours is gonna get me in real trouble.” 

You giggle back at him 

“What kinda trouble is that now?” 

Even from your side glance, you’ve got that lovely little smile on you. Fuckdrunk and ingratiating, like you know he’s wrapped so tight around your fingers. And he is, like nothing else in the world could have him. A wave of possession curls up over Arthur, makes him press more of himself into you. Onto you. Another deep push of his cock, sliding against the tenderest parts of you. Staking some silent desire in you. He wants and wants and wants, and hopes that whatevers above him can forgive him for making the same mistake thrice. 

“Dunno,” Arthur comments, teeth grazing your shoulder and kissing the indentations “Got our whole lives together to find out, I reckon.” 

“I’ll hold you to it, Mister.” 

Arthur laughs. “Hope you do, Miss.” 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ JOHN MARSTON + COWGIRL ;

John doesn’t say that he loves you lightly. 

Hardly a thing he says can be said that way. Could never afford too. In an alternate universe where nothing goes wrong in his life, maybe - but he has a hard time picturing what the hell that’d look like. A version of himself so untainted, without all of the violence and blood and gunsmoke? Foreign. John can’t picture it worth a damn. 

Who John is without a deadbeat father and a dead Ma is somewhere far beyond his reach. Ain’t nothing about his life, at any point, lighthearted. 

On top of all that mess, he’s got a boy at age four with a woman he ain’t married too. And that relationship is always on rocky waters, even though John’s decided to do right by his own flesh and blood sometime ago. Most things in the world he should feel good about he doesn’t, and most things he should understand render him clueless. He’s a mess on multiple accounts, and he still doesn’t know how exactly he’s meant to approach this life of his. He knows what he should do, but nothing about how to do it. 

John doesn’t come to love you easily ‘cause he wouldn’t know easy love if it hit him in his face. Quickly and painfully, but not easily. 

Your return to the gang was an odd one. You were an old presence and your disappearance was an even older story. John thought he’d never gonna see you again for sure. You’d been a part of the gang back long before all of the nonsense that took place in Blackwater and you left about the time Arthur’s boy died. John don’t remember why you left exactly. He thinks it was a fight with Hosea, of all things.

 Dutch weren't too happy about it neither, but Dutch back then didn’t make a show. 

So you left, and John buried every feeling he ever harbored. You found all them again up in Colter, where you’d been living out your days lately. According to you, in the middle of riding, you thought you’d heard Arthur. So, somewhat recklessly, you went chasing him. Didn’t matter if he was just something your mind conjured. According to you, if it was him, it was at least worth checking to make sure. You’d reunited with Arthur and after some tears, he rode with you back to camp. 

Upon your return, the gang welcomed you with open arms. 

You’d done a lot in your time alone.You spent most of that time just like that, a ghost wanderin’ the planes. You weren’t gonna stay with ‘em, but Arthur insisted and Hosea did too. That wasn’t enough to compel, so John was last to chip in. You should stay, at least until Valentine. 

(Silently he thought, you should stay so John can trace memories of you. It was so long ago, he should’ve forgotten all of it. You were a year older than John and always on his ass but easy for him to talk to. Didn’t fuss over his failures. You just barely grew into your womanhood when you set your sights on running away. You wanted more than this life, and John never really forgave you for it. His first heartbreak, maybe - but it’s all too blurry for that. 

You understood him though better than anyone, and one day you were gone. Nothing’s really the same.) 

You changed tremendously and not at all. He missed you. God, did he ever. Missed you a long time. Didn’t realize how much until you came back and everything in him felt right again. Your return stirred up old feelings and everyone noticed. He wasn’t trying to keep it a secret, but he really wasn’t trying to fall back into anything with you. Not how he did. 

Just like you did back then, you read John like an open book. And just like he did back then, he loved you all too helplessly for it.  It was just all too easy again, to be with you. 

You stayed out of the way at first, for the sake of his family. 

But, John ain’t a half-decent man even when he’s trying to be. So he set himself on being with you. It wasn’t easy - most things with him aren’t as you’ll see.  Having you around again straightened what was left of his common sense, at least. He told Abigail before telling you. He figured you wouldn’t even reply unless that was all out of the way. That turned out as well as you’d expect.

 It was settled between the two of you thereafter. He’s lucky she didn’t toss him into the street. 

Everything works out in a way. As best they can between broken people. You make peace with each other. His boy loves you like a third parent (you’re better with him than John is). Abigail commends you for straightening out such a worthless man though she’s a little melancholy.  John just tries to stay out of the way. You’ll be together in the end. There’s a plan with the five of you. 

But until it all falls apart, he doesn’t get all that much time with you. 

There’s moments like tonight, though. Rare ones. Together out robbin’, cooped out some place in the woods where no one is around. A place so shaded by nightfall that John can absolve himself of every sin he’s ever committed in his life and pray at the altar between your hips. John is convinced he might find worship like he’s always hearing about there whenever he touches you, the marred skin of his hands and knuckles reading the scripture of your body with careful precision. 

You might turn him into a literate man yet. 

John glances up at you. Only the light of the fire and the moonlight there to accompany as he watches you over him. You’re beautiful. John couldn’t picture a single thing more perfect in his life. 

Your hands against his bare chest, nails digging into the flesh as you lean forward. Your palm dug into the dirt, John finds his own hands rested at your hips. John looks at you awe-struck, cock twitching at the mere sight. His heart settles in his throat, but he’s calm all at the same time. With you, he forgets. All of it. The worst of himself. 

Bare naked and so close, he watches your face as you strain. You feel soft. Every inch of you in comparison to him is. A bead of sweat slides down the valley of your breasts. John cranes his neck up to catch it with his tongue, licking a stripe up to your neck - letting his teeth sink into the space between your jaw and neck. You want to make it last and John doesn’t blame you. It’s so rare you get to have each other so unrestrained. John can feel all the ways you want him, can see it in your face - all pinched with need. You’re holding yourself back, trying to get it to last as long as the night will allow. It’s cute in a way.

It’s different than how he’s used to seein’ you, all cocky or otherwise. You’re needy like this. Just needy. His stomach turns with lust, jolting through him like a strike of lightning. His cock twitches against your folds, sliding against them. Pure admiration watching the sticky mess of his pre-cum and your own arousal mix together and smear on your mound. You make a soft noise in the back of your throat, faint and tender as you fall forward just a little. John laughs against your neck. 

“Darlin’,” He says with a huff. Not malice. Something akin to bliss, where he can rarely afford it “Have I done something to piss you off today?” 

You pick yourself up and look down at him and frown. John kisses the corner of your mouth, resisting some crude desire to fuck up into you. 

“Just,” You grunt as the tip of his cock passes over your throbbing clit, your whole body wracking to a shiver. John looks awed. “Pent up. Goddamn it,” 

John figures it out quickly after that. It’s this part of it he likes. The proximity. The closeness. Feeling the tremble in your hands as they struggle to keep up right, muscles strained in your forearms. Being able to hold you, to keep the pace or let you take the lead. The clear view of your face as pleasure travels up through your spine and melts into you. He grabs your hips, the fat dimpling underneath his fingers as he moves you along. He can’t wait. You don’t bother to protest seeing John can’t seem to bear it anymore. You collapse into his chest, your tits pushed flat against his pecs.

His cock throbs near painfully, sliding against your soft cunt before finding himself lined with you. He thinks to himself that it’s this he was looking for, as he tucks your face against his neck and lets his tip stretch you out slowly. Such a vice like grip, stretching - resisting him like your whole body can’t anticipate the sensation of fullness. You gasp against his throat. 

“John,”  

What a sweet sound from your mouth, even sweeter as he bucks himself up. Keeps you steady and lets his cock stretch you full, feel you deep. “That’s right, my angel. Didn’t think you’d remember my name when you’re all worked up like this.” 

“You’re,” You gasp and John thrusts, thrusts hard until he’s buried to the hilt. You shudder, walls pulsing around him as he bottoms out and John laughs like the terrible man he is. He fucks you again, over and over - a wicked little smile watching “Awful. Just awful, John Marston,” 

“Ain’t that the truth,” He hums against your mouth as his hand snakes between your bodies, thumb rubbing against your clit. “Wonder what kinda woman that makes you,” 

“A foolish one,” 

John laughs. 

“I sure do love you for it,”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆JAVIER ESCUELLA + SIDEWAYS ;

Javier hasn’t thought about much other than surviving. 

It’s been like that. Been like that for a while, probably much longer than he cares to admit. He’s sure any sane man would suffer the same plight if they lead the same life. Anything but survival is little more than a pipe-dream, so Javier tries not to go for anything too strongly. In that aspect he’s like many of the members of the gang he’s in, perhaps that’s why he sticks to them. There’s that phrase Hosea’s always saying - that misery loves company. Javier will take any decent company he can get.  He’s desperate for it just like he’s desperate for most things - inwardly, silently. 

Some of that desperation may be symptomatic of who he is. After he killed a man in a crime of passion for a woman he loved and ran from a government who would sooner exile him than change, Javier decided to not dream anymore. Every revolutionary who dreams too hopefully pays the price in blood.

(Javier thinks there’s probably nothing in the world as true as this. A form of gospel. He remembers the first dream he ever had after his uncle passed. Not a nightmare but a dream. He remembers the exact feeling of waking up, cold and confused. What is a dream, except a memento of survivor's guilt that loyal people cling onto fruitlessly. When hope starts to feel like a debt he’s going to waste his life paying back, Javier loses sight of everything. The beginning of the end in some way.) 

His mind doesn’t occupy itself with anything bigger than that. Since Dutch found him starving, there was never a desire to try and live off aspirations. He pays his penance with loyalty and honor. Practices some form of humility and tries, not too desperately, to carve a place for him to fit. All without drawing too much attention or caring too much. If you ignore the bleeding in his fingers, his penchant for knives over guns, and his refusal to talk too long about the place he comes from - it’s nearly believable that none of it matters. 

Except loyalty. All Javier honors is that. It’s the only thing he has some part in choosing, so he choses it every time. Living like that didn’t make any difference to him. He was surrounded by mostly decent people. He didn’t hate the life he was living. 

It wasn’t important. It didn’t matter. His directionless-ness, his floating. Hadn’t since he joined the gang. At least not to anyone but him. He didn’t know what he’s meant to do or if he was meant to proceed with this forever. He was (is)  loyal to Dutch. To the gang. 

He hadn’t thought much about what comes after. 

And it didn’t matter until he met you

He’d sworn off love after seeing where it got him, at least until he could love more dispassionately. When the women bring you back from their outing from Valentine and beg Dutch to let you stay, Javier doesn’t think much of it all. He thinks you’re pretty, if it counts for anything. But he doesn’t let himself linger on you too long. 

But that’s the sequence with you two, really. The whole time.  He doesn’t linger until he does. It doesn't matter until it does. He doesn’t think about you until it’s all he can think about. 

You go for him first. And it’s in little, unimportant ways that might not mean shit to you but mean a whole lot to him. You have some kind of tenderness about you that you wear deep, runs through your blood like love ran through his once long ago. Some softness he can’t really measure with his own. It’s not that that gets him. It’s that sometimes you look at Javier like he's … someone you want to see. He forgot what that was like all together. It felt foreign to him the first time it happened. Seeing how you light up when Javier is around. 

You wanted to see him. You noticed that he’s gone. If he sang by the campfire - you’d sit by him and listen.  If he was out in the trees keeping guard, he’d hear the soft call of your voice to Grimshaw ask Where’s Javier? And sometimes the girls will make fun of you - but you wouldn’t deny anything they said. It’s so small and ordinary. He would’ve never considered himself simple before meeting you. Nothing is simple. Nothing. 

(But then, Javier thinks of the kinds of songs he sings and the way he takes care of himself and the clothes he wears and maybe Javier has some kind of affinity for preciousness that explains all of it.) 

When Javier confesses his feelings for you - he finds the affair to be like most things between you. Ordinary love, not really between outlaws but people. It’s up against a tree while you share a drink and he’s looking at the curve of your mouth and the plum color Karen’s so kindly put on you. And his head fills with kissing you so he does. A breathless confession between alcohol stains and the feeling of your hands curled in the lapels of his suit. 

From there, Javier is your lover. He’s not interested in the business of secrets, but he tries not to let it show too much. Not that he doesn’t want to. He wants to show you off more than anything - at least some part of him does. But the other part wants to keep you away from prying eyes, keep his love for you only where the both of you can see. If he could keep that pretty lovestruck face you make all to himself forever he would. 

When he gets a chance to whisk you away from everything, Javier jumps at the chance. Not often, but Javier makes time for you. Makes time to indulge in love he thought he’d  never find again. 

That’s why he’s here with you in the middle of nowhere, a ghost town where no one knows you.. A reserved room with a bed and lowlights all to yourselves. 

Javier can’t keep his hands to himself and he doubts you expect him too. 

For Javier, this sense of proximity is what intoxicates him most. The warmth of your bare skin in the slivers of yourself exposed. Javier is fond of finding you like this after a long day of horse riding. Of sneaking touches to your waist as you push back against him to sleep, only to find his desire for you - laid clearly. He likes hearing you whimper feeling his length poke against your back, the embarrassment when it dawns on you that he wants you after all. Always surprised, even though Javier tells you it so often. Whispers it along your neck and shoulders whenever you’re at camp together.

You like the feeling of his hands so Javier always starts with them. He squeezes your hips. Planes his palms over your chest before squeezing your chest, pushing the fat between his fingers. You like the way  they look when they grope you, his chin resting against your shoulder as you spoon. In the lowlights of a cheap hotel - Javier gets the perfect view of your silhouette. Your body is sensitive over the fabric of your gown, heat prickling through you. 

Javier who is always so gentle with you, rouses so deep listening to your whining as he explores your body. The suffocating closeness of a single bed intoxicates him. 

“Javier,” Your voice is sweet and thin. Plays in Javier’s head like music and makes his mouth curl up into a catlike grin as you push back on him.  You look slightly over your shoulder, lips pushed into a pout. “Please,” 

He tugs at the fabric of your nightgown. The top half pulls haphazard underneath your tits, nipples perky and sensitive to touch while the skirt pools at your waist. What gets Javier like this is the desperation. Wanting so much but not being able to look too long. A way for you to mirror him, it’s a matter of possession. In some stupid way. Bunching your clothes up, pushing the fabric of your panties to one side, letting his arm wrap around your waist to touch and tease.  All of these are imprints of his longing, tucked faithful into your side as he whispers sweet nothings into your skin.

His cock twitches as it pushes past your folds with finality, your hands curling up at your sides.  You whimper softly, let your cheek rest against the sheets as Javier takes you on your side. Terribly close, you fuss as you feel him slide every inch into you slow, your hands reaching back for purchase. It’s the fit of you against him so perfect, the silent strokes of intimacy, the hush-hush giggles between the sheets that Javier loves most about fucking you like this. Too enamored with you to look too closely, he lets his eyes flutter closed. He could get drunk just being in your space. 

He carves out space for himself inside of you, feels your cunt accommodate for him like it loves him. A feverishness breaks out as his forehead rests on the space between your shoulders, an uncharacteristic whiny quality in his words. 

“Ser mío,” Javier says - as a reflection of what he really wants, to belong only to you. “Belong to me.” 

Darling as you always are, you nod softly. 

“All yours, Javier,” You whimper, finding his hand. “Forever,”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ CHARLES SMITH + MATING PRESS ; 

Wandering. 

He’s been doing it his whole life. Not something he’s proud of. Or ashamed of either, really. Just how things have gone for him until now. Charles doesn’t think his life has been any better or any worse than anyone else's. At least not when he weighs it with the same kind of pragmatism he does most things. It’s been a hard life, and a miserable one in so many ways. Still, it’s not something Charles is too keen to dwell on. 

There’s just something thematic about loss in Charles' life in a way he finds completely unpleasant. It’s more constant than anything. Loss of his home, loss of his mother, loss of his father in an attempt to find what’s best for him. It’s some overarching message that hangs over his head like a shadow. Everywhere he goes, trying to rectify his own solitude seems to come back to him. It doesn’t help that it’s an unfair world to start with, and would’ve been if he had just been black or just been native. But Charles is both, and has lived a life that reflects that specific injustice thoroughly. 

There’s not really anything Charles can do about it, at its baseline. When he left his father, the name of the game had simply been survival. He was well-equipped enough for that at least. But after survival comes trying to live and trying to live isn’t something so simple. Jumping in and out of gangs who thought they could get away with slighting him or generally being surrounded by unpleasant people. Trying to find something in pages of book and scripture, or in the way water ripples when it rains. 

He’s never felt any one way towards the gang. Even when he joined them all the way back in the Grizzlies. Lost in the cold, they’d crossed paths as Charles was out hunting. A lot of it feels like a blur. Of all the folks he’s met in his travels though, Dutch treats him fair and the rest of them (or most of them) are decent, honest folk. Charles stays in the Van Der Linde gang for such simple reasons as trying to stay alive and be somewhere that isn’t actively hostile towards him. He’s a good gunman, and a better fighter. The inner workings of gang politics and forging connection isn’t at the forefront of his mind, with the exception of the kindest few. 

The Van Der Linde gang is just a place where he can figure out what his purpose is meant to be, even if he doesn’t find it there. He’s never expecting anything to come out from his loyalties to it. 

Of all the things Charles expects of his life in the Van Der Linde gang, love is at the very bottom of the list. 

Maybe it’s about time he stops being surprised by these things happening to him one or way another.

 You were a member of the gang far before him, and someone Charles took to quickly. You’d joined the gang not too long after John from what Arthur tells him. Though the brunette speaks about you more fondly than he does his brother. A problem child at the start, according to Arthur - always getting into all sorts of trouble. Something you seemingly feel embarrassed about now and refuse to bring up. Charles has a hard time picturing it having only known you as you are. 

The woman you’ve grown into is someone else completely, and Charles sees that in you all the time. Compassionate like Hosea but charismatic like Dutch, and clever. And you’re beautiful, too, though Charles feels a little shallow admitting that’s part of what drew you into him. 

It wasn’t Charles that approached you first. You were the one who spoke to him, as often as you thought necessary but never in a way he found invasive. He doesn’t know what it is exactly about you that charms him near instantly. You’re enigmatic to a fault. It’s like you always know exactly what to say and exactly when to say it. Even more than that, you’re a terribly pleasant person to be around. Subtly warm and free of assumptions. When Charles talks to you about anything, you listen without making him feel like it’s any sort of burden to you. You don’t pry, don’t make missteps. Treat him fair, and then some. 

It’s unbearably simple, just how quickly and how easily he comes to adore you.  And, in some ways, Charles knows better than to believe that his purpose is loving someone. There’s more to it than that, surely - after everything. 

But then, he’ll watch you do something. Watch you do some kind of menial work that he could do for you instead. Thinks of skinning animals for new clothes and chopping wood and rubbing the soap off of you and all of a sudden it makes him feel anchored. Everything he could do for you. You anchor Charles easily, with a wispy smile. Make him want to find purpose in life with you. He never wants to be somewhere you’re not. 

He confesses it to you just like that, and like you do with most things - you accept and reciprocate without making too much of a fuss. 

For Charles, making love is an extension of wanting to ground himself in you. A distant siren song - the intersection of lust and bone deep adoration. Like most things, you’re the one to approach first every time. A soft hand on his forearm, a whisper that you want him. It’s with ease that he draws you away. Drags from you camp during nightfall with his horse and blankets and picks a spot with the perfect view of the stars. 

Charles watches you under the glow of moonlight, his vision adjusting to you easily. Naked underneath him, laid on your back with your legs folded at your knees - heaving deep breaths. He can see the sweat beading down your skin, your chest rising and falling - and the perfect view of your pussy. His hands and mouth are wet as you breathe out. He finds himself smiling at you, his own erection pressed against your thigh, pre-cum leaking out in a mesmerized haze. 

You lift your hands up and he leans down, surprised as you wrap them around his neck and pull him closer to you. Your mouths meet like that, and Charles laughs against your lips as you kiss him so eagerly. You blink at him, pretty. You’re always prettier than he remembers you being the last time he looks. 

“Charles,” You frown at him. “It’s impolite to keep a lady waiting,” 

He kisses the corner of your mouth. “Sorry, my love. I don’t want to hurt you,” 

“Well, I’m fine with it,” You repeat, almost petulant. Charles frowns. “‘Sides, it ain’t my first time taking you, you know?” 

“Well, I’m not fine with it.” 

You pout, looking at him all endeared. Charles couldn’t help but love you even if he tried. “You ain’t gonna hurt me. C’mon. Please?” 

“Please, what?” 

You look at him aghast before breaking out into a faux-scandalized giggle. “Now you—please fuck me. Pretty, please.” 

Charles feels something tickling against his spine hearing you say it. He couldn’t imagine getting sick of you in his whole life.  “Yeah, that’s good to hear.” 

You make an indignant noise but it’s silenced quickly as Charles positions himself against your entrance. He has plenty of discipline when it comes to matters like these, but right now - he feels like he’s going to lose his mind. Not nearly enough patience to wait. He lets his hands go up underneath your knees just to have something to hold onto. 

You make a little gasp as the tip of his cock pushes into you. Your walls are so soft, likely after all the orgasms he’d given you prior. You stop him in a shocked gasp, and Charles immediately readies himself to pull out. As if sensing his hesitance, you shake your head. 

“Charles,” You gasp, the words caught in your throat and hoarse “Deep. Want it deep,” 

His abdomen tightens, cocking twitching hard at your words. He agrees silently to your desires. 

When it comes to sex, there’s very little Charles dislikes.

But this is his favorite. He’s simple but no other position lets him see you so close. He likes the way your eyes widen as he pushes up underneath your knees and folds you underneath his weight. How you look pinned down under him, the perfect view of your eyes rolling back into your head and the proximity from your face to his. He lets his cock stretch you out slowly, throbbing each time your nails dig desperately into arms trying to keep your composure. Fuck you feel so tight like that. Soft pussy, dripping and sticky. You suck him in relentlessly, and Charles groans as he bottoms out. You take every inch of him so well. So perfect like the rest of you. 

Your eyes flutter open as he stays there, buried in you in complete bliss. You’re dazed. 

“Kiss?” 

Surprise followed by adoration, he abides by your request easily. Overwhelmed with it as he presses a chaste peck to your mouth, he laughs. “As many as you want.”

Anything you want, Charles thinks, he would give to you. 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

[koiiiji]

windbreaker characters & their possible love trope (part 2)

warnings : smut part with wooin but i tried to make it more sensual then sexy, prob fluffiest stuff i ever wrote, as usual it might be ooc, not proofed read on your own risk!!)🧣💞🦢

thank you all guys for 287 followers!!(i wrote when it was 260!!) i hope my works makes your day a lil bit better and set some mood. i really appreciate all likes, reposts and especially!! comments and replies, in love with @sugardollie-907 @hjunsjoy @cozyunderworld @dialoguestetatet and wildylisa but idk why i can’t tag((( and so so many other people who comment (but i swear this holy five lives rent free in my comment section and it such a blessing🙏🏻)

thank you to every-everyone who supporting me, my works, it’s so gratifying to come here and see all notifications about your feedbacks!! also want to say thanks to all wb authors who ever posted and posting!! another source of motivation and inspiration🫵🏻😌💋💯🎀

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

vinny - a friend’s sister. you were definetely dom's or jay's sister, and vinny was so annoyed by you in the first place. not because of your personality or you annoyed him directly, but you were that "genious" in your sport, and vinny unitentionally compared you to jay jo, who were gifted with talent from birth. he was angry or annoyed to the point of goosebumps, he didn't even understand exactly what he was feeling, but he understood that this was a very strong storm of emotions and he was fixated on you. honestly? when your brother watches your competitions or casually tells about your successes, Vinny records it in his memory and will congratulate you later(dom as an older brother will 100% hype you up, fight me. he would show his phone to hummingbird crew with tearing puppy eyes “look, my lil gremlin winning those competition of hers”🥹🥹)Vinny would rather die by biting his neck than admit his feelings to someone, so it happens accidentally, maybe your chat went further than congratulating each other on winning competitions or your calls to him to find out where your brother is hanging around today. but because you were tired after the competition, you fell asleep leaving the chat open and not responding to his messages, leaving him on read. not to say that Vinny was offended by you, he just snapped at you for 3 days in a row, refusing to respond to messages. you had to take the situation into your own hands and hold his hand after another training and talk. “ta hell you want?” he said, frowning down at you. “just to talk and clearly” - you explained the situation to him and told him why you didn't answer, but since Vinny didn't know how to apologize and he had certain trust issues, it turned into another skirmish. it was evening and it was unnoticeable how the clouds thickened and the rain began to fall, but it didn't seem to bother two of you much because you were standing and yelling at each other for a reason you both didn't understand. Vinny's patience had always been zero, but now it seemed as if he was on the verge of reaching another stage of rabies. while you were shouting at him that you didn't understand why he started this quarrel at all, he just exhaled irritably and unknowingly blurted out “FUCK! because i was worried about you!!” as the argument reached its peak, Vinny's frustration peaked, his heart pounding with a mixture of anger and apprehension. yet, amidst the chaos of their exchange, a surge of emotion overcame him, compelling him to act on the impulse he'd long suppressed. with a sudden surge of courage, Vinny closed the distance between you, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek. eyes met, mirroring the intensity of emotions, as Vinny leaned in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. the rain continued to fall, its gentle rhythm enveloping both of you in a cocoon of intimacy as you melted into each other's embrace. Vinny’s body pressed to yours, rain-soaked and trembling, as the warmth of the spring evening mingled with the cool touch of the rain. in that moment, amidst the soft glow of the night lights and the soothing patter of raindrops, time seemed to stand still. the world around you faded into obscurity, leaving only the two bodies locked in a passionate embrace. as your lips parted, a sense of relief washed over, breaths mingling with the cool night air as you savored the sweetness of the moment. in the gentle caress of the rain and the warmth of each other's touch, you found solace, knowing that despite the storm raging around two of you, they were anchored in the calm of their love. as you kissed beneath the spring evening sky, a sense of peace washed over them, the tension of their argument melting away with each tender caress. In that fleeting moment, surrounded by the gentle embrace of the rain and the comforting glow of city lights, they found solace in each other's arms, their love renewed and strengthened by the storm they weathered together.

wooin - fake relationship. he commited it in the first place. since his work wasn’t permanent and he was constantly on the move, hanging here and there, Wooin thought it would be nice to have something permanent in his life. he needed excuse to tell his family why he can’t visit them on weekends - his girlfriend doesn’t feel well. them asking him all this “start a family” questions? sorry, y/n isn’t ready yet. some unforeseen situations? oh, y/n can be his trusted person. something didn't go according to plan? he can rely on y/n, if it isn’t something too difficult or dangerous. as a substitute he will gift you something, or will took you somewhere, thanking you for being his backup. genuinely it wasn’t something like friends with benefits, no, you two clearly share a bond, but it was something on the edge, as everybody thought you were dating. and in fact all this acts, you being his backup, him giving you small gifts, taking you on dates, sharing a bed - it all feels more like a relationship. but you never had this conversation, after another hot sex you could fall asleep together, for sure, but in the morning one of you definitely woke up in an empty bed. of course, it also happened that you woke up together, but in the morning Wooin was simply unbearable, and more often it ended with too caustic jokes. and it was always on the edge, you weren't in a relationship, you weren't friends, you weren't strangers, you were all together at once. at some point, it started to get exhausting. you noticed it first, but Wooin started talking about it first... well not actually talk, but mutter in the crook of your neck… today’s sex was different, the encounter was filled with a blend of sensuality and intensity, both of you asserting your desires while maintaining a balance of power. you bite each other, when it feels like too much, but immediately kissing and licking bite place, each of you tried to get leading role while another didn’t let it happen. today, Wooin's approach was different - not sloppy, fast and erratically, but slower, more deliberate, his touch gentle yet his thrusts firm. you were suffocating in his arms, and it seemed to him that he was drowning in the smell of your hair, your moans, how you trembled slightly from his hands on your chest, hips and neck. Wooin burrowed his nose deeper into the crook of your neck, breathing heavily and sniffing your scent. it was intoxicating, that feeling when you were next to him, when his hands slid over your body, your soft sobs, how the emotions on your pretty face changed depending on his pace. now, with his whole body pressed against you from behind, one hand holding your hip, and the other between your head and the pillow, his palm rested on your collarbones. while he was slowly sinking into you, and you were smiling and almost purring with pleasure, he caught himself thinking that he liked your smile. he likes to spend time with you, he likes to use an excuse in front of his parents and call you his girlfriend. his. Wooin liked the idea of you being his. he liked you. along with these thoughts, his pace increased, now he was digging his fingers into your thigh, and the other hand slid to your breast, squeezing it a little harder. you were both lost in your pleasure as you moaned louder and louder, he pressed his nose harder into your neck, whispering something that you couldn't make out. at one moment, he lifted his head, biting your earlobe, and pulling it slightly towards him, in a burst of emotion, he whispered "i like you"*

kwon - stranger to lovers/soulmetes - for the first time it seemed like someone corsed you. you moved to new flat in different district of Seul and now it was time to transport your stuff from old flat. everything started when you recieved message from a men who drove the car with your stuff, saying that he is stuck on a street because there are some stupid cycling competition and usual road is closed. amazing, you already were so stressed and here some cycling competition, but thankfully in the evening you finally recieved your stuff, mostly some boxes, small and big. when you were about to pick another heavy box you felt that it seemed strangely light. when you rise your eyes you saw a young man around your age. you thanked him for helping and he turned out to be almost your neighbor, one floor above and to the left of your neighbor's wall. next time you saw Kwon Hyeok in evelator…and you two were stuck there…for 3 hours…you were about to meet with your friends and, as you learned later, he was about to pick something to eat in nearest market. week later you met him in random cafe, where you decided to have a dinner alone, the owner of the cafe came up to you, saying that all the seats are occupied, but since you are alone, there was an empty place, behind the bar, just next to a guy your age (the old man grinned and has obviously already married you two in his head) so when you sat down carefully and apologized for the intrusion, you recognized that it was Kwon. you ordered your food and few drinks, and had a nice time together. and after a month of such unexpected encounters, you began to suspect 2 things - either fate brings you together, or he is a stalker. thankfully when you ran into each other again in the same cafe and drank a lot more this time, you admitted that you suspected him, and he, in turn, thought the same - that you were weird stalker girl who followed him around, and in that evening you laughed together from many things. when it was time to leave he understood that you were so drunk that you couldn’t even stand straight, so he took you by the elbow, hugged you with his free hand a little bit higher than your waist and led you home. along the way, of course, you mumbled something about how you like one handsome boy and he seemed like not paying attention to you and probably not even interested and why you're still alone…and then, under the soft glow of streetlights, amidst the hushed whispers of the night, it happened. in a moment that felt both inevitable and surreal, your lips met in a tender kiss, sealing the bond that had been silently growing between you. in that stolen moment, amid the chaos of the city, you found solace in each other's arms, knowing that fate had finally brought you together as more than just strangers in passing.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

* i’m sorry, i don’t really know how to finish this part with wooin, as it already feels too ooc, it was more self inserted, like i was inspired by my latest situationship, bc i was in fucking same situation(it didn’t end well) , and it’s still kinda my roman empire, so i leave space for your imagination… if u don’t mind of course…🥹

[gremlin-girly]

Kinktober 14

Kink(s): Spreader Bar (BDSM)

Pairing: Roommate Bucky x f! Roommate Reader

Tags/Warnings: SMUT, compromising situations, spreader bar, dubcon (barely), mutual pining/lusting, vaginal fingering, creampie, p-in-v (wrap it!!!), dirty talk, pet names (doll/sweetheart/dirty girl/babydoll), roomates to lovers

Not beta read

Summary: You get stuck in a compromising position but thankfully your very helpful roomie is able to "help".

Word count: 2.6 k

As always I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, translated or copied. My warnings are non-exhaustive (even though I do try to capture everything) but please read at your own risk. I am not responsible for your content consumption.

I hope you enjoy; comments, likes and reblogs are always welcome! Banners : @/cafekitsune

A/N: Originally, this was going to be roommate! Steve but I really liked his softness ... so duh had to make it Bucky Boy instead. This one is going to also be a drabble series probably, but not as sweet as Steve's (at first) - Love, Grem x

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You weren’t too sure  what possessed you to open your new toy as soon as it arrived nor do you know why you thought it would be a good idea to try it out  alone. But you did. And now here you are, in your new favourite lingerie, made up to the nines, legs spread and so very, utterly stuck.

You had been feeling rather blue since your break up a few months ago. Your roommate, Bucky, had been a godsend throughout it but you just had felt like shit. But when your favourite online sex shop had a flash sale the week before, you hadn’t cared how much you spent, it was the first time you had felt something other than numb or fleeting happiness in a while. And when it arrived this afternoon, you were practically ripping the box from the delivery driver.

You had planned it expertly. Bucky was out for the day so you could try out plenty of angles, positions and rooms with your phone in private.  You had showered, done your hair and make up to match the new lingerie you had bought and felt so unbelievably hot and confident – it would be a waste not to snap some pics. Then it occurred to you to snap some with the leg spreader bar. Why not go all out?

But you’d bent too far over the back of the sofa, trying to get that perfect angle that would show off your plump ass and the bar, and now your feet couldn’t touch the floor and you’d slid too far forward  but not far enough for you to reach the floor with your arms and push yourself up. Even if you did, you risked injuring yourself somehow.

And what would happen if Bucky came home with Steve and-or Sam in tow? A cold , icy tingle ran down your spine. Uh oh. You’d never live this down – it’s embarrassing enough your crushing on your hot roommate without him seeing you like this, least of all his friends. Thankfully, your phone was still clutched in your hands and you huffed as you attempted to find Bucky's name in your contacts to warn him what he’d be walking into and to please, please, please not bring any guests home.

You: Hey, so this is gonna sound weird but I’m kinda stuck right now so if you could stay out a while longer that would be grand! X

You: and please don’t bring anyone around until I am unstuck!!!

You: Sorry x

Your face flushes with embarrassment and you mutter to yourself. You’re only snapped out of your thoughts when Bucky messages back.

Bucky: Stuck? Are you okay, doll?

Bucky: I’m on my way back. I can help.

You scream into the sofa pillow. God this couldn’t get any worse.

You: No, it’s really alright. It’s pretty embarrassing, actually.

The response is immediate.

Bucky: it’s alright. I’m happy to help and I won’t judge. Promise doll :-)

Curse Bucky and his kindness and curse him for being a big, dumb, helpful idiot.

You: Fine but you need to close your eyes when you come in!!!

Bucky only responds with a thumbs up emoji and you sigh. Whatever he’s expecting to find, you didn’t know if your current position would be better or worse. You hoped better because you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about Bucky in that way. More than once. And the thought of him finding you like this would have had you pressing your thighs together – if you could do that right now.

It took about ten minutes for Bucky to arrive home and you were wriggling wildly and yelling at him to close his eyes when you heard his keys rattle in the lock.

“Alright, alright doll. My eyes are closed.” He chuckled, closing the door behind him. “Where are you?”

“On the sofa.” You reply meekly, heating flooding to your cheeks.

“The sofa?” You can hear the confusion in his voice as he comes closer. “How are you stuck on the sofa?”

“I- uhh...” You trail, realising there isn’t much of an explanation to your predicament other than the truth.  “I was trying out something and... look it’s not important just please help and keep your eyes closed.”

Bucky shook his head in disbelief even though you couldn’t see it, you knew he was smiling. “Fine. Fine.”

“I’m in the mid- oh!”

 in Bucky's blind attempt to reach you with his eyes closed, he’d managed to bump right into you hitting his shins painfully against the spreader bar with a muffled clang.

“Ow!” he yelped, eyes flaring open to see what he’d hit only to be graced with your ass covered in lace. His eyes trailed down your stocking-clad legs, eyes widening as they spread apart to make a perfect triangle  with the metal bar secured at your ankles. “Oh.”

The sound was breathless, his mind blank and jeans suddenly too tight at the sight before him. He’d dreamed of you like this before but this was almost too comical to be real. It was like you were being served to him.

“Bucky?” You asked shyly, shaking him from his stupor. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” He says thickly. “Tell me what you need.”

Your heart beats at a break neck pace. He hasn't opened his eyes has he? Even so, his helpful comment has almost rendered your brain, and legs, to mush.

“I - um - just so my feet touch the floor,” You explain, wishing you were literally anywhere else. “Then I’ll die of embarrassment in my room.”

“What were you doing?” Bucky asked, shamelessly gazing at your ass whilst you still thought (hoped) his eyes were closed. He wasn't sure if he'd get an opportunity like this again. It was much better than seeing you in a towel or pyjamas and better yet than his own imagination. He could feel his fingers twitch, itching to reach out and grip your hips, but resisted; trying to remember you were his roommate and friend.

You face burns hotter and there’s a slight tingle in a place you know shouldn’t be tingling when Bucky is being so kind to help you through this embarrassing time. But explaining to him that you were taking boudoir photos is possibly your newest low.

“I was taking photos,” You admit sheepishly, grateful he can’t see your face right now. Your whole body feels as if it's on fire and you don't know if it's in a good way or a bad way.

“Photos?” Bucky's mouth dries out. Photos for whom? He wished he could see them. Wished they were for him. Hell, he wished he could take them. Especially taking ones that captured the very moment you came, preferably over his cock, so he could keep it close by when either of you were away - just in case he had to rely on his imagination and needed a prompt.

You swallow thickly, the embarrassment seemingly never ending. “For me. They... God,  this is so embarrassing. They were to make me feel sexy.”

“Ah, right.” Bucky says absently, his mind only full of thoughts of pulling you against him. He pushed the thoughts away. You were his roommate. You trusted him to help. “But you are sexy.”

“Thanks,” you chuckle awkwardly. “Um, if you just grab my hips and pull me back I...” you swallow, mind racing to the gutter but before you can finish, Bucky's large hands are on your hips; half on skin half on lace. His flesh fingertips are rough and hot against your skin but the metal fingertips are surprisingly soft but cool and, coincidentally unbeknownst to you both, you and Bucky both stifle sounds of pleasure. You shiver as you feel yourself being pulled slowly backward, heat and an uncomfortable damp settling between your legs as Bucky effortlessly, though slowly, pulls you back to standing position.

As Bucky gives one final tug, there’s the click of your heels on the floor. Unfortunately, your heels rock back and you lose your  balance and to stop yourself from falling you stick your ass out on instinct, grabbing the back of the sofa to steady yourself.

Which would have been fine had Bucky not been stood behind you with a hard on. Your ass brushed past the tent in his jeans and you gasped.

That’s what broke Bucky.

“Fuck, doll, you look so good. All spread out for me.” He said gruffly, making you whine quietly.

“Buck.” You turn your head to look up at him, face flushed and wide eyed but God you look so perfect laced up, legs spread and bent double in front of him. You’re not sure what to say – what to ask – all you know is that you’ve been crushing on your roomie and he’s probably just said one of the hottest things you’ve ever heard in your life. Maybe that’s why you say possibly the dumbest thing that comes to mind.

“You were supposed to keep your eyes closed.”

A blush creeps up Bucky's neck as he looks down at you, hands still on your hips and intent on not letting go. His chest rises and falls with heavy pants and he grips your hips a little tighter. “Sorry doll, I just- shit. You look so good. I -Sorry.”

“It's not a bad thing,” you say quickly, feeling your own breathing become laboured. “I – I’m glad you like what you see.”

Bucky's eyes close and he stifles a groan. “Doll, don’t look at me like that.”

“Don’t look at you like what?”

“Like you want me to fuck you right here, like this.” He growls, eyes glowering down at you with heat so intense your body lights up. “Like you want to have me balls deep inside of you.”

Your mouth opens slightly as you stare up at him. You’d heard him curse before but not like that. You never thought that your roomie would say something like that to you. Your legs shuffle as you try once again to squeeze your thighs together, the needy ache between them becoming to difficult to ignore.

“Maybe I do.” You respond hoarsely. “Maybe I've thought about it.”

Bucky's grip on your hips becomes ever so slightly painful. “You have?”

You only nod and Bucky curses loudly.

You heard the click and clang of his belt coming undone, followed swiftly by the zipper his jeans behind you and God did it make you soaked just knowing he was about to have you. Your panties were tugged to your knees in one quick motion and before you could react to the sudden lack of clothing two of Bucky's cool, metal fingers sank inside your pussy without warning, making you moan loudly.

“That’s my dirty girl,” he praises, working your already slick cunt with his fingers with a smirk. “You’re already so wet for me, aren’t you? Feel good?”

“Yes, Bucky, yes!” You moan out eagerly, jutting your hips backwards even further into him. The metal fingers curl and scissor inside of you, stretching you open in front of Bucky, whose flesh hand squeezes the cheek of your ass roughly.

"Shit babydoll," He murmurs, moving his fingers out of you slowly, teasingly dragging them along your folds to make you whine. He looks at his glistening fingers with a satisfied smirk. "I think you're ready for my cock already."

Bucky doesn't even take the time to undress fully, his jeans hanging low on his hips as he frees his cock, tapping it against your ass cheek tauntingly. You wiggle your hips, trying to angle your legs so you could feel the thickness and heat of his cock against your skin again, but Bucky's flesh hand holds you firmly in place. You huff in frustration and can feel his tip on the curve of your ass again, this time trailing cool, sticky pre-cum.

"Excited are we?" Bucky watches you shift again, your ass looking even better covered in his pre-cum than the lace. He guides his length through your folds, sighing with delight at the silky warmth around his cock, and chuckling his tip nudges your clit making you moan his name.

"Please, Bucky." Your groan is muffled into a couch cushion. The slow torture was killing you in the best way possible and you were already desperate to have him fuck you.

"Please what, doll?" Bucky asks, repeating the motion with his cock again.

You curse loudly before gasping out, "Please fuck me."

Bucky grins triumphantly. "Oh, with pleasure, doll."

He draws his cock back up along your folds and sinks into you, hard and fast, filling you to the brim and bottoming out in one thrust. Your hands dart out in front of you to steady yourself as you make a silent oh. Bucky's metal arm circles your waist, pulling you to stand a little straighter as he waits for you to adjust.

There's a kiss to your shoulder blade. Then another. You swallow thickly, trying to regain the ability to breathe as you relax onto Bucky's cock with a long, drawn out fuuuuck. Once you relax into him, leaning further back into him, Bucky begins to thrust upwards erratically. The slapping noises of skin-on-skin are drowned by the sounds of Bucky kissing your neck and murmuring filth that makes your eyes roll in ecstasy.

“I used to hear you and your boyfriend fucking – he never could fill you up like I can, could he?” Bucky murmurs lowly, taking a moment to pull put of you slowly and back in again, appreciating how your pussy grips his cock and sucks him back in. His words make you groan out and this time you answer before you get to lost in the pleasure to respond.

"No, he c-couldn't."

Your body jerks when Bucky slams into your pussy again and this time you're sure you're seeing stars. Your orgasm isn't far and from the way Bucky's thrusts are getting sloppier, you know his isn't far either.

"Your pussy feels fucking amazing, doll." Bucky huffs, his metal hand retreating from your waist and back to your hip. "I could fuck you all day."

Your eyes roll and you can feel your pussy grip his cock tighter; on the precipice of your orgasm and desperate to take all Bucky can give. Your face flushes at his words even though they barely register in your fucked out state.

"Please," You keen at him. "I'd love you to fuck me all day."

Bucky pulls your hips to meet his roughly, making you squeak before speeding up his thrusts again. "Yeah, doll? You would?"

You barely manage out an mmhmm through your moans, your pussy throbbing greedily around his cock. "Yes, please - fuck. I'm - I'm gonna cum."

Your arms reach blindly behind you, grasping at Bucky's hips to hoist yourself just a little bit higher; letting Bucky's cock reach a new depth in your sopping cunt. You cum almost immediately with a loud, shuddering gasp and struggle to find your breath as Bucky continues to milk his cock for a few more seconds until he spills inside of you with a moan of his own.

Then the apartment is all but silent apart from your breathing.

The weight of what happened between you both setting in as you stand joined together, sweating and panting, in the living room. You think you'd laugh if you didn't think it would be so awkward. Bucky's the first to speak, clearing his throat.

"So..." He slips his softening cock from you and your eyes flutter slightly. "You needed help getting this bar off your feet?"

[uceyliyahh]

GUARDED

summary: Genesis has been protecting her heart ever since she filed for divorce and didn’t want to be in another relationship until he came around and changed her mind.

this fanfic is 18+ NO MINORS ALLOWED

warnings contain: emotional abuse, divorce, depression, self-defense.

word count: 7.2k

AWFUL GRAMMAR IM GETTING BETTER I SWEAR LOL.

smut warning: it’ll come in the story randomly so PLEASE PLEASE look out for it I’m not really good at writing ✍🏽 smuts but I am improving at the moment

Jimmy Uso x Genesis

comments, likes, repost are appreciated I would love the constructive feedback in what area I need to approve in. 🤍

ALSO! I don’t not want nobody stealing my fanfics or take it as theirs that will be an issue fasho so keep it cute respectfully.

I only own my OC along with the make up scenarios

again mdni you have been warned.

thanks to my friend @charmed-dreamssss for helping me with the title 🫶🏽

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jonathanfatu: @ romanreigns nun dawg

trinity_fatu: @ gigispovv baby girl you might wanna move around because that’s all mine right there.

gigispov: @ trinity_fatu 🤷🏽‍♀️🤷🏽‍♀️

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Houston, Texas - 3:30PM

Genesis was at the gym alone, wearing her headphones and listening to music as she ran on the treadmill for two to three hours. She had several tasks to complete before heading to work for tonight's Friday Night Smackdown show.

She intended to have her nails and toes done today, along with her hair. She discussed her plans with Jade, hoping to complete everything before the show begins tonight.

She hadn't heard from Jimmy since last night when they shared a hotel room again. He missed her, and she hoped he was doing well, likely managing things with that girl Trinity.

It wasn't her concern, yet she couldn't shake thoughts of her date with Jimmy from yesterday. He had been so tender with her, and when they kissed, it felt like she was floating on air whenever he was near.

She felt unable to control herself whenever he touched or kissed her, making her feel as if she were the only girl in the world at that moment. Suddenly, she heard a message in her headphones from the very man she had been thinking about.

What surprised her the most was the message stating that he had sent her some money for something, as she paused the treadmill and grabbed her phone, her eyes widening in disbelief.

Jimmy❤️‍🩹 sent 1.2k on cash app.

Jimmy❤️‍🩹: here you go mamas get everything you need to get done today so I can have a good look at you when I see you at work princess 🫶🏼

He made an extra effort to send her money for everything she needed to take care of before tonight, as she replied to his message.

Gigi🤍: Jimmy you didn’t have to do allat for me

Jimmy❤️‍🩹: I wanted to princess you deserve it especially being all pretty and shit

Gigi🤍: Jimmy I cannot accept this please take it back…

Jimmy❤️‍🩹: keep it mamas I’m not having a debate about this now go get dolled up princess I’ll see you at work 🫶🏼

She felt the urge to continue protesting until another message from him appeared.

Jimmy❤️‍🩹: you also got a surprise back at the hotel in yo’ room I think you’ll love em 

What did this man get her this time?

Gigi🤍: Jimmy….don’t spoil me like this 

Jimmy❤️‍🩹: imma keep spoiling you princess don’t matter if you refuse or not imma still do it until you realize how important and special you are 

It filled her with warmth to read that, realizing he was the motivation behind her perseverance, alongside her best friend and Cody, of course. But it was Jimmy who inspired her to keep pushing forward each day.

Gigi🤍: I love you so much friend 🫶🏼

Jimmy❤️‍🩹: I love you too ❤️

Genesis glanced at the time on her Apple Watch and realized it was nearly time to prepare for her nail appointment, followed by her hair appointment. She decided to save any leftover money for her savings.

She stepped off the treadmill, picked up her Stanley cup, and scanned the area to ensure she hadn’t left anything behind at the gym before heading to her appointment.

Upon reaching her hotel room, she used the card key to unlock the door. As she stepped inside, she was greeted by a bouquet of flowers on the table and a small box containing a four-leaf bracelet, along with her favorite shoes that she had long desired. How could he have known about all of this?

She felt a wave of overwhelm wash over her as she faced everything ahead, aware that she needed to pull herself together for her appointments. She decided to set those worries aside for now and headed to take a shower.

Once she finished everything today, her mind was solely focused on the gifts that Jimmy had unexpectedly given her. In fact, she even wore the bracelet he had bought her earlier before entering the building.

People around her remarked on her radiant appearance—perhaps it was due to Jimmy's influence. This effect left her feeling a bit scatterbrained as she rehearsed the script, pretending to hold a microphone, all while listening to a voice she wished to avoid.

She chose to disregard that individual, fully aware it was Zilla trying to reach her. However, she didn't have the bandwidth to handle his nonsense today and was determined to concentrate on her work.

“You hear me calling you baby girl.” Zilla said with his hands inside of his pockets.

She rolled her eyes at him, “I don’t need to respond to you like can you get over this please? I’m not giving you any coochie sir.” Genesis said.

Zilla realized she was wearing a new bracelet and, with a knowing smirk, poked his tongue into his cheek, fully aware that Jimmy had purchased it—much to his annoyance.

“Why? Is Jimmy dicking you down? Is that why?” Again if they were, what does that matter to him? It wasn’t his business anyways.

“Imma let you assume what you want because you seem so desperate my nigga.”

“Yeah, because I want you and some of that.” He tried touching her until she slapped his hand away glaring at him. “Look here, nigga ion need you to ruin my day because it’s been good so far and I don’t need yo desperate ass trying to get something out of me.”

Just as she was about to leave, he caught her by the arm, halting her movement. “Is it about him? He can't take care of you the way I can, baby girl.”

She pulled her arm away from him once more, pushing him back a bit. Confused by his behavior, she felt her irritation growing until he uttered something that sent chills down her spine.

"I observe every single action you take with him, and it hurts me deeply each time I see you together—sneaking into his hotel room, going on dates, sharing kisses. Is this what friends truly do?" Genesis sensed it; she felt something was off the night she stayed in Jimmy's hotel room. Meanwhile, Zilla had been watching them closely ever since they began their conversations.

“You’ve been stalking me? Are you fucking crazy?” Genesis said.

“I mean I would say that, but yeah I am because I’m tryna be in allat but you keep playing baby girl.” Zilla responded with a smile on his face.

“Nigga, you ain’t getting shit from me. you don’t even deserve it so why would I give it up to you?”

He let out a low, sinister laugh as he approached her, making her step back in uncertainty about his intentions. Suddenly, he seized her by the waist, drawing her nearer to him.

Genesis sensed her heart racing in her chest as she gazed into his eyes, which were devoid of emotion and filled with despair.

“All these pretty women in here know that I dick them down so good they couldn’t even take it—and you’re so stubborn missing out on all of this with a man that’s dealing with that girl Trinity.”

Genesis knew about Trinity especially when he told her that he didn’t really mess with her because she’s only using him for his money. There was nothing serious between the two of them.

“You tryna play mind tricks on me and that won’t work out for you—back the fuck up.” She tried to shove him away only for him to wrap his hand around her throat, choking her.

At that moment, he uttered a threatening remark that filled her with fear about his potential actions: “When I catch you off guard, I’ll take what I desire, and you’ll be grateful and want to be with me.” Genesis had trained in self-defense for situations like this—she swiftly kicked him in the stomach, making him groan, and followed up with a slap to his face.

She seized his arm, twisting it behind him as she pressed his face against the wall.

“Don’t fucking play with me bitch ass nigga, I’m not the one of these fucking women in here who can just give it up so easily so if you think you can get some coochie out from me then you’re sadly mistaken.” She said, “So you better keep it pushing fuck boy.” She continued while letting him go as she walked away from him going somewhere to clear her mind while texting Jade to come see her.

Genesis felt relieved that she had brought along some pre-rolled blunts, but she decided to hold off on smoking them for now. At that moment, she really needed her best friend and Jimmy, though she hadn’t seen him all day. Memories flooded back of when Quincy had threatened her, trying to coerce her into sleeping with him after she discovered he was cheating on her with a girl from his workplace.

The thought of all those nights spent crying until she drifted off to sleep, her eyes stained with dried tears, weighed heavily on her heart. Each morning, she would wake up with swollen, red eyes.

At last, she found a quiet place to gather her thoughts, but that’s when the tears began to flow, smudging her makeup. Her body trembled as she wished for Jade or Jimmy to come in and soothe her before an anxiety attack took hold.

Her breathing became erratic, prompting her to take a moment to calm down. She slowly closed her eyes, inhaling and exhaling to find some peace. Just then, she heard the door creak open, and she opened her eyes to see Jade standing there. Her best friend's makeup was smudged from tears, which made her heart ache. Jade quietly shut the door behind her and walked over to Genesis.

Jade wrapped her arms around her best friend, feeling her gentle sobs against her chest. As she rubbed her back, she reassured her that everything would be alright. "Bestie, what did Jimmy do?" Jade guessed that Jimmy had messed up, but Genesis simply shook her head.

Genesis replied, her voice trembling, "He hasn't done anything wrong. Jimmy is really sweet and caring. He bought me some things and even sent me money to get dressed up—it's his damn cousin Zilla."

“Girrrl what? Okay period Jimmy I see you.”

“What happened bestie?” She asked.

"Do you recall me mentioning that something seemed off? Like I felt someone was watching me? Zilla has been following me the entire time, especially when I'm with Jimmy, and he’s been making threats to rape me, Jade…" Genesis noticed Jade's eyes widen in shock at her words. "I knew something was wrong with him, I just knew it."

Genesis nodded her head, “but I don’t know if I should tell Jimmy.”

“Gigi, that’s your friend, you should be able to tell him anything, especially when it comes to his cousin threatening you.”

She recognized that Jade was correct, but the thought of the two of them clashing frightened her; it brought back memories of Quincy.

“What if they start fighting each other again? I can’t bare to see them fighting.” 

“I’ll pull you away from all of that Gigi, but you need to talk to him about this.” Genesis nodded her head listening to her best friend knowing that she needed to speak to Jimmy about all of this. “I‘ll talk to him about it whenever I see him because I haven’t seen him all day.”

“Just text him and also I rented us an Airbnb so we can just chill and drink after work of course.” Jade said.

“Okay, but can you fix my makeup please so I can look all dolled up again.” Genesis asked as Jade chuckled at her.

“Yeah, girl c’mon.” Genesis headed to her messages and tapped on Jimmy’s name, sending him a text in the hope that he would notice it while she and Jade made their way to the ladies' locker room.

Jimmy just finished taking care of himself while thinking about Genesis. He has been missing her all day because he was busy going over his script for tonight's show. After that, he and Jey had a photoshoot with their tag team titles, leaving him no time to see her.

While he was wiping himself with a paper towel, he heard his phone beep. He pulled it from his pocket and opened a message from Genesis, reading it carefully.

Gigi🤍: Where are you? I’ve been missing you all day and haven’t seen you. We need to talk about something.

He felt a wave of dread wash over him as he read the text message, fearing he had made a mistake.

Jimmy❤️‍🩹: is everything okay Mamas?

Gigi🤍: No, I really need you right now 

Jimmy❤️‍🩹: aight send me yo’ location I’m otw

Gigi🤍 has sent you their location

Jimmy looked at her location and saw she was nearby, so he quickly gathered his belongings and stepped out, closing the door behind him. He felt a sense of concern, hoping he hadn’t upset her, as it was clear she needed him urgently.

While he was heading to her location, he ran into his cousin, leading them to exchange glances.

“My fault dawg.” Jimmy said as he was about to walk away until Zilla had said something.

“You've been spending a lot of time with Gigi lately uce, what’s up with that?” Zilla said.

Jimmy tilted his head and looked at him, asking, “Is it because she’s my friend? Am I not allowed to hang out with Gigi?” He pressed on, “And why do you even care about what we’re up to?”

"I noticed what you have going on with her, and I'm guessing you're also sleeping with her? It looks to me like she's not ready to let go." Jimmy smirked, pressing his tongue against his cheek while laughing at him—regardless of whether he was with her, it wasn't Zilla's concern. "I bet she calls you daddy, right?"

Jimmy refused to let Zilla get to him. He let out a deep sigh and rolled his eyes, aware of Zilla's attempts to provoke him.

“Again what me and her do is none of your business dawg, so mind yo’ fucking business and keep it pushing.” Jimmy was on the verge of leaving when he snapped after hearing Zilla's comments about Genesis.

“Must be nice to fuck her and see her naked, I bet she’s a good little slut for yo—“ Jimmy delivered a powerful right hook to Zilla's face, causing him to fall to the ground, completely unconscious. Jimmy then approached and yanked Zilla up by his hair.

“Don’t you ever fucking disrespect Genesis and call her that again what we do is none of your fucking business.” Jimmy released Zilla's hair with a spit and walked over to Genesis, leaving Zilla unconscious on the ground.

Upon arriving at her place, he took a moment to steady himself before knocking on the door, anticipating her response. He was still in disbelief over Zilla's comments suggesting he was involved with her. Jimmy held Genesis in high regard; he would never betray her trust without her explicit consent.

Perhaps she wanted to discuss Zilla—maybe Zilla had said something that upset her, prompting her to text him. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening, revealing Genesis standing there, looking stunning. It felt as if his breath was taken away at the sight of her.

She allowed him to enter and shut the door behind him. He leaned against the counter, gesturing for her to come closer. She approached and stood before him, his tall 6'3" frame towering over her shorter stature. As he placed his hands on her hips, she looked up into his eyes.

She instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck, prompting him to kneel and lift her by her thighs. As she wrapped her legs around his waist, he set her down on the counter, positioning himself between her legs.

He moved closer, pressing his lips against hers as they shared a passionate kiss. It was slow and deep, reflecting the longing they felt for one another. Genesis sensed his hands gliding down her ass, gently cradling her curves while their tongues danced together in a tender embrace.

“I missed you pretty girl.” Jimmy murmured between kisses.

Genesis's fingers wove through his curls as she heard his hat drop to the ground. She pulled him closer, intensifying the kiss and feeling their teeth collide.

“I missed you too, Jimmy.” Genesis murmured back.

Genesis could sense her panties becoming damp as she was positioned beneath him, especially with the scent of his cologne that she adored enveloping her.

Jimmy's kisses traveled from her jawline to her neck, sending shivers down her spine. She tilted her head, granting him further access, and let out a soft moan.

“J-Jimmy.” 

“Hm? What’s wrong mama?” Jimmy had pulled away for a second staring into her doe-like eyes.

“It’s something I need to talk to you about.” With that he kept his hands cupped onto her ass cheeks while listening to her talk. “What’s up Gigi.”

Genesis let out a gentle sigh, “Your cousin Zilla…he…” Her words faded as she briefly averted her gaze. Jimmy, noticing, lifted her chin and tenderly stroked her cheek with his thumb, prompting her to meet his eyes. “What’s going on, Gigi?”

She was determined not to ruin her makeup again by letting her emotions get the best of her.

She said, "He threatened to rape me, Jimmy. Your cousin actually threatened me. I'm really scared, Jimmy." She noticed his expression shift to something she had never seen before.

“When was this?”

“Like three hours ago, I managed to shove him against the wall.” Jimmy's eyes widened when he heard that she had pushed him against the wall—he respected her for that, realizing she was capable of defending herself. “Show me.” 

"I don't want to hurt you, Jimmy." He laughed as he assisted her down from the counter, where she had been standing in front of him. "You’re not going to hurt me; just show me how you did it." With that, she seized Jimmy by the arm, twisted it behind his back, and grabbed his hair, pushing him against a nearby wall with his face pressed into it.

He was inexplicably drawn to this situation—it excited him to witness how she defended herself against men like Zilla. "Are you alright?" Genesis inquired.

“Mhm, I’m fine. Lemme’ do it to you.” Jimmy responded as Genesis' eyes went wide.

“Jimmy, ion think it’s necessary.” Jimmy shook his head, determined to give it a try on her, while she sighed and rolled her eyes at him. They had changed places, with him positioned behind her and her in front.

Jimmy had pulled her arm behind her back and yanked her hair, forcing her against the wall with her face pressed into it. Genesis could feel his rigid body pressing against her backside as they remained in that position for a minute, and she sensed a dampness in her panties.

Jimmy felt his arousal pressing against her, prompting a soft groan as he realized he needed to regain control. He released her and stepped back, turning to face her as she turned around to look at him.

His facial expressions indicated that he was uneasy about something, though she couldn't pinpoint what it was.

“Are you good mamas?” Jimmy asked.

“Yeah. I’m fine, are you okay? You seem uncomfortable.” Genesis responded as she came closer to him but he backed away from her.

“I-I’m good Gigi. I heard Jade got us an Airbnb for us to chill later after the show, make sure you bring some clothes and stuff.” Genesis approached him with a nod, aware of his firm state. She wrapped her arms around his neck, indicating that he should lift her up.

As she wrapped her legs around him, he felt her body pressing against his, driving him wild with desire—he craved her intensely. She softly kissed his lips, and he instantly reacted, gazing up at her.

“You so fine princess.” 

“You’re handsome yourself pretty boy.” He chuckled at her softly as he pressed his lips against her kissing her some more. “You like the gifts I gotchu?”

She nodded her head, “yeah I did but you didn’t have to do all of that for Jimmy.”

“I told you imma spoil you Gigi even if you don’t what it imma still do it so ion need you complaining.” Genesis smacked her teeth at him while forming her lips into a pout. “Too damn cute c’mon girl let’s go.”

Airbnb - 10:30PM

Everyone gathered at the Airbnb Jade had booked for the night, enjoying drinks and smoking weed on the porch. Meanwhile, Genesis lounged on the couch, scrolling through her social media while occasionally looking over at Jimmy, who was chatting with his twin brother and some colleagues.

Jade approached her and sat down beside her, playfully tickling her feet, which made Genesis kick out in laughter.

“Girl, you’re so annoying bro.” Genesis said.

“Gigi, you look too comfortable over here, where's yo’ man?” Jade Teased her as Genesis rolled her eyes at her. “We are just friends, Jade nothing more.”

“Why are you lying Gigi? I know it’s something goin on between you and him.” 

“I’m not lying, he's just being a good friend to me that’s all.” Jade shot her a glance but chose not to delve deeper into the topic. Instead, she declared that they were about to play a game together. Genesis exchanged a knowing look with Jimmy, fully aware of what was about to unfold.

Genesis quickly sat up as she noticed Jimmy approaching her, with everyone else following suit. "We're about to play Never Have I Ever. I assume you all know the rules?" Everyone nodded in agreement while they continued to pay attention to Jade.

Jimmy rested his hand on Genesis' thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze that drew her attention. She turned her head to face him as he cupped her chin, and a wave of anxiety washed over her—was he really doing this in front of others? She glanced around to ensure no one was watching before returning her gaze to him.

“Are you crazy?” Genesis questioned him.

Jimmy shrugged his shoulders. “Ain’t nobody looking mama just give me a peck.” 

“What if we get caught, then they’ll know.”

“Let em know then it’s not their business what we do or you wanna wait?” This was the most suitable choice for the moment. Engaging in this activity in public posed too much risk, particularly with the onlookers nearby. Genesis preferred to keep her relationship private; she wasn't fond of displaying affection in front of others, as it wasn't her preference.

“We can wait for a while until the game is over with.” Genesis responded.

“A’ight then mama we will wait.” Jimmy replied.

Players began the game with their hands raised, discussing things they had or hadn't done as others lowered their fingers. Jade noticed Genesis and Jimmy sitting together, with Jimmy's hand resting on her thigh, and she could see how happy her best friend was with him.

“Never have I ever been celibate for over five years.” Jade said as Genesis looked at her with wide eyes.

Genesis let out a sigh and rolled her eyes, then flashed Jade the middle finger. As she lowered her hand, gasps erupted from those nearby—she sensed Jimmy watching her; he was unaware of her long period of celibacy. Perhaps there was a valid reason behind it.

“Gigi, you haven’t got no dick?” Jey asked.

“Oh my god, no I haven’t had any dick in five years. I’m just waiting for the right person. That's all I stopped having sex with Quincy after what he did.” She explained feeling her heart beating out of her chest.

“Damn, maybe a certain person could help you out with that.” He said.

Genesis glanced at Jimmy, who was already gazing at her intently. He leaned in closer to her ear and whispered, “I can help you with that.” She playfully nudged him and smiled, surprised that he was teasing her about it.

“Don’t be fucking teasing me Jimmy.”

“I can tease you all I want, yo’ short ass ain’t gonna do nothing about it princess.”

She arched an eyebrow at him, "Are you willing to make a wager on that?" He enjoyed pushing her buttons to see how she'd respond, even with their height disparity. "Yes, I actually am."

She smiled and nodded at him, saying, “I’ll take care of you when we go upstairs, handsome.” Jade noticed the two of them joking and laughing together, and she had another question ready to tease her best friend even further.

Jade remembered Genesis sharing her frustrations about Quincy’s performance in bed, expressing her desire for a man who could satisfy her completely, to the extent that she would make a mess, since Quincy wasn’t meeting her needs.

And with Jade hearing that Samoans were packing she couldn’t help but to tease Genesis.

“Never Have I ever been dick down good.” Genesis and Jimmy's conversation came to a halt when she spoke, prompting Genesis to once again give her the middle finger. She wondered why her best friend was teasing her tonight, particularly in front of Jimmy.

“Jadeeeee oh my fucking god bro.”

“What? I’m just saying girl, place ya finger down.” Genesis pressed her finger down, burying her face in Jimmy's neck, unable to handle the teasing from her best friend at that moment.

“Quincy hadn’t been hitting it right? Damn he fumbled a baddie dawg.” Jey chimed.

“Thank you! That’s what I said Jey like he was tripping honestly.” Jade said as she was agreeing with him.

As the game went on, Genesis leaned against Jimmy's shoulder, feeling weary as she looked up at him while he took a sip of his beer. He noticed her resting on him, her sleepy eyes fixed on his face.

“You tired mamas?” 

She nodded and yawned, rubbing her eyes with her hands. Then, she settled down, resting her head on his lap while he gently brushed her hair aside to see her face more clearly.

“I’ll take you upstairs after they get done playing this stupid ass game aight?” 

“Okay.” She spoke in a gentle, drowsy tone, her eyes fluttering shut as she effortlessly drifted off to sleep on his lap while he browsed through his social media.

He heard her adorable snores coming from her lips, which made him chuckle as he sipped his beer. Just then, a text from his twin brother caught his attention, prompting him to click on it.

Twin⚡️: Dawg what’s going on with you and Gigi?

Here he goes.

Jimmy❤️‍🩹: There’s nothing going on between me and Gigi why does everyone keep asking this?

Twin⚡️: bc I can see the way you've been looking at her Uce and then I’m hearing that you spend a band on her today and have her some money for her to get her nails done including her hair?

Jimmy❤️‍🩹: so? 

Twin⚡️: so?? Mane people be doing allat stuff when they in a relationship with someone and you doing just that so fr what’s going on?

Jimmy❤️‍🩹: ain’t nun going on twin I’m just protecting her and taking her out on dates and mini walks with her so she could clear her head ion need her in her head a lot that’s all.

Twin⚡️: so you ain’t fucking her?

Jimmy❤️‍🩹: no I’m not i respect Gigi

Twin⚡️: I mean from what I’ve heard she probably got a lot of pressure build up after being celibate for five years now maybe you can fix that.

Jimmy❤️‍🩹: when the time is right but for rn I’m just being there for her that’s all I’m not gonna pressure her into anything she doesn’t want especially since she isn’t looking for anything.

Twin⚡️: like relationship wise?

Jimmy❤️‍🩹: yeah, but ion mind waiting unlike Zilla did she tell you what she told me earlier?

Twin⚡️: No? What happened? 🤨

Jimmy❤️‍🩹: Zilla threatened to rape her Twin and that pissed me off especially since Zilla had the nerve to come up to me saying how I’m fucking her bc she wouldn’t give it up to him like wtf?

Twin⚡️: woahhhh wait a min he’s out of pocket for that shit imma have to speak to him about that bro what’s wrong with him?

Jimmy❤️‍🩹: ion know but he better keep it pushing and leave Gigi alone fr yk ion play that shi when it comes to her

Twin⚡️: he lucky he ain’t here ass would’ve been handled but what she gonna do now?

Jimmy❤️‍🩹: me and her are just going to share a hotel room together until this obsession he has on her is done ion need her hurt you know? She’s been through enough 

Twin⚡️: yeah I hear you twin ion want that for her either but imma let yall be for now

Jimmy❤️‍🩹: mane stfu 😭😭

Jimmy sensed Genesis move in her sleep as he finished his beer and set the bottle on the table. He tucked his phone into the pocket of his shorts and lifted Genesis in a bridal carry, making his way upstairs to the bedroom they were sharing for the night.

Upon entering the bedroom, he noticed a spacious master bed that was just right for them. The room was adorned with LED lights, creating an ideal atmosphere for the two of them. He gently laid Genesis on the bed and covered her with blankets to keep her warm, as the night was turning chilly.

He brushed her hair aside, revealing her lovely face. His thumb softly stroked her cheek, bringing a smile to her sleeping lips as she dreamt, curious about who occupied her thoughts.

Jimmy leaned in and gently kissed her lips before rising from his knees. He then headed back downstairs to grab another beer from the fridge, noticing Jade approaching him.

She stood with her arms crossed, watching him as he flinched at her gesture of placing his hand over his chest. "You can't be scaring people like that, girl," Jimmy remarked.

“My Bad Uce, I was trying to see what’s going on with you and Gigi. She's been glowing lately and I know you got something to do with that.” Jade said.

Jimmy took a sip from his second bottle of beer before responding, “You could say I’m involved in her glow. I’m just looking out for her, nothing else.”

"So, here's a question: that kiss you both had a few weeks back at the club didn't mean anything?" It actually meant a lot to both of them; they found it hard to stay away from each other, but he wasn't about to say that in front of Jade.

“It definitely meant something, but seeing Zilla's reaction was great.” Jade nodded in agreement. "Are you really spoiling my best friend? You know she can't stand being spoiled because she thinks she doesn't deserve it." Jimmy paused mid-sip of his beer, looking at Jade with a puzzled expression.

Jade chose to explain to him that Genesis felt this way because of Quincy. He made her feel increasingly inadequate, never spending a cent on her while using his money on the women he had cheated on her with.

Whenever Genesis brought it up, he would simply invent excuses for his spending, claiming that she didn’t deserve to be pampered, regardless of whether she cared for him or not.

Jimmy felt a deep sense of sorrow upon learning about the struggles Genesis faced in her marriage to a man who failed to appreciate her.

"That's why when she mentioned that you had bought her some things, particularly her favorite shoes, and even sent her money to get dressed up, I could tell she was thrilled." She remarked, "Gigi has never sounded so joyful about a man buying her something." She went on to say.

“Cody told me she been wanting them shoes since forever so I just went out my way and bought em for her.” 

“I told her yall would be a great couple together.” Jimmy agreed with her knowing that they’ll be perfect for each other but he wasn’t going to rush her about it. “Yeah, but she’s not looking for any serious but I’m willing to wait for her honestly until she’s ready.”  

Jade smiled at him while giving him a hug as he hugged her back before pulling away, “thank you for being there for her.”

“Of course I’ll do anything for Gigi, she’s important to me too.” With that Jade and Jimmy continued to talk to each other about Gigi and other things until it was time for everyone to head to sleep.

Midnight - 1:30AM

Genesis awoke from her deep sleep and noticed she was alone in bed, with Jimmy absent by her side. She got out of bed, made her way to the stairs, and entered the kitchen to find something to drink, as her mouth felt parched.

While pouring herself a drink, she heard the toilet flush and the sink running in the bathroom, indicating someone was inside. Leaning against the counter, she took a sip of her water and noticed Jimmy emerging from the bathroom, looking great with his shirt off and his hair tousled.

She glanced at his grey Nike shorts and noticed the outline of his manhood, confirming Jade's claim about Samoans being well-endowed—his size was evident. When their eyes met, she smiled and waved at him.

He approached her, positioning himself directly in front of her. His hands rested on her hips, gently rubbing both sides as Genesis finished her water and turned her focus toward him.

“What’chu doing up this late Gigi?” Jimmy inquired with a voice that was deep and smooth, reminiscent of honey.

Genesis replied, "I got thirsty after my long nap," as Jimmy noticed the outfit she was still wearing from her sleep. "Didn’t you consider changing before coming down?"

Genesis shook her head. "No, I wanted to, but since you were down here, I had to stick around." Jimmy raised an eyebrow, a smirk forming on his lips.

“You wanted my attention?”

She trailed her fingers down his tribal ink feeling his hands cupping her ass gripping them both.

“I always get yo’ attention daddy.” She smiled at him after speaking, reaching for her water bottle as she noticed his astonished expression. Before continuing, Genesis planted a kiss on his cheek and said, “I’ll see you upstairs then.”

She turned to leave, but he grabbed the hem of her jean shorts, pulling her back against the counter while she gazed at him with an innocent expression. “What’chu say mama?”

“I don’t know what you mean Jimmy.” 

“Gigi, don’t play with me you know what you said.”

Genesis began to complain in frustration, crossing her arms and pouting her lips. “Jonathan I’m tired and I want to go back to sleep.”

“I’m tired too, Gigi, but now I’m up after what’chu just said to me acting like I won’t do nun.” Genesis innocently wrapped her arms around his neck teasing him, “what I do daddy?” Her voice took on a softer tone, playfully stirring something deep inside him.

“There you go again mamas, why you keep playing with me?” Jimmy softly kissed her neck, causing her body to tremble with each touch.

“I’m not playing with you Jimmy, I’m just teasing you.”

Jimmy pressed soft kisses along her neck as she tilted her head, granting him greater access. He lifted her by the thighs and carried her to the couch.

Jimmy gently kissed her neck, eliciting a soft moan that escaped her lips and reached his ear, while her fingers played with his soft curls.

“You like teasing me huh?” Jimmy murmured between her neck.

“Mhmm, sure, do pretty boy.” Genesis said softly.

“What if I just yank this shirt off of you and played with these titties you gon’ stop me?” Genesis looked down at him while he patiently awaited her consent to make contact.

He kissed her jawline gently. “You gon’ stop me baby?”

“J-Jimmy.”

He titled his head, “What baby? Talk to me. You're doing all of this teasing and shit and now you wanna soften up on me.” His voice dropped a few octaves when he spoke.

“I-I just haven’t been shown this much affection from anybody in a while.” She could feel Jimmy’s hands cupping her ass. “I know, and I’m giving it to you because you deserve it.”

Genesis began to sense a shift inside her when he mentioned that she deserved to be loved properly, unlike the way Quincy had treated her during their marriage.

“Give me the word and I’ll take care of you Gigi.” Jimmy said.

“But you take care of me enough, big daddy.” Genesis reacted as she noticed a smirk on his lips, feeling his hand encircling her throat.

“Yeah I do, showering you with gifts and shit but I wanna make sure that you’re taking good care of in areas you haven’t mamas.” She understood the specific areas he was referring to and felt anxious since it had been a long time since she had experienced any physical contact or been fully relaxed.

Jimmy pressed his lips to hers, his hand gently gripping her throat as they shared a passionate kiss. It was deep and slow, with Genesis moving against him, while his other hand rested on her hips, directing her movements.

As she gently pulled away from the kiss, she sensed his arousal pressing against her clothes. "What if I'm not ready? Ready for you," she said. He responded by drawing her back into the kiss, his tongue exploring her mouth.

His commanding presence excited her to the point where she surrendered to his touch, allowing him to express his affection. He took his time, unhurried.

Genesis kept moving on his lap as they kissed passionately, prompting him to lift her by the thighs and carry her upstairs to their bedroom. Their lips remained locked, and when he opened the door and slammed it shut, she realized he was serious.

He positioned her on the bed, settling between her legs and covering her body with kisses before pausing to look up at her.

"I’ll be here for you, mamas, until you’re ready for me." Jimmy pressed his lips gently against hers, feeling her fingers entwined in his hair. “But I’m still going to love you the way you need, do you get what I’m saying?” She nodded and kissed him back.

He kept kissing her body, gently pulling at her shirt until she removed it, tossing it aside. She unclipped her black lace bra right in front of him. This was the first time he had seen her partially undressed; Quincy was the only other person to have seen her like this, making Jimmy the second man to do so.

He lowered his lips toward her breast, glancing up at her to seek her consent to kiss and tease them.

“Do I have your permission baby?” Jimmy asked.

“Yes, touch me. kiss me. I’m craving you jimmy.” Genesis said desperately.

“I’m craving you too, baby.” For the remainder of the night, Jimmy showered her with all the love and affection she craved—her soft moans and the way she whispered his name in his ear, meant only for him to hear.

He didn't venture far, recalling her words that she wasn't fully committed to him yet.

He left noticeable marks on both sides of her neck, and she would definitely need to hide them in the morning to keep others from prying into their affairs.

They lay together in bed, wrapped in blankets, enjoying the warmth of their skin against each other. Her head rested on his chest as she slept on top of him, while he gazed at her until his eyes grew heavy. He placed a comforting hand on her back.

Her body eased against his, reassured by the safety she felt in his presence. She understood that he would patiently wait for her readiness and that his love for her would be genuine, which felt almost surreal.

Like he said before, he’ll do anything for her and he means anything.

gigispovv posted on their story!

jonathanfatu replied to your story: yk imma spoil yo ass princess I told you that you’re a diamond

yaonlylivonce replied to your story: JIMMY YOU DID THIS???

jadecargill replied to your story: OMGGGG BESTIEEE 🥹

uceyjucey replied to your story: he wanna spoil you but won’t pay me back he owes me twenty bucks Gigi 🙄

jackieredmond replied to your story: OMG GIGI??? BIG JIM DID THIS?

zillafatu replied to your story: I see how it is he must be fucking you really good to be buying all of that shit don’t worry imma get mines 😈

GUARDED.

a/n: phew things are getting heavy and Zilla done lost his damn mind fr fr.

But I hope yall enjoy this chapter lmk in the comments below. 

STAY UCEY.

Chapter five

Previous chapter

[tune-on-in-folks]

Day Eight! I want to preface this with this: I had Somnophilia on my list with Vox in mind. Coincidentally @redfoxwritesstuff has also written a very wonderful fic for Vox with this prompt. Hers is called Late Meetings, so please go read hers and show her beautiful writing love!

I am vastly aware of the similarities between both fics: Vox, Somnophillia, and late nights/meetings, and the mention of notes! Though I attempted to make mine as different as I could. Great minds think alike! (Kit if it's too similar let me know. I'll gladly repost after a rewrite.)

Tags/Warnings: Human!Vox, marriage, dub-con, dubious consent, somnophilia, fem!reader, fem!receiving, fingering, p in v sex, soft sex Word Count: 1,962

Human!Vox X Reader

You often consider yourself the luckiest woman in the world. How could you not when your husband was Vox? You adored your husband, admired his work ethic, and appreciated the money he brought home. But there were some nights, much like tonight, where you wondered if he loved you as much as you loved him.

“Eight o’clock.” He promised before leaving that morning. He would be home by eight. Now it was eight thirty and you hadn't gotten even a call from him. Your dinner had long gone cold, not that you had much of an appetite anymore. Begrudgingly, you got up and started putting everything away.

When everything was put away you poured yourself a generous glass of wine. The minutes ticked by as you drank it, the clock in the hallway striking nine. You downed the rest of the wine, put the glass in the sink, and headed to bed. Typically you wrote a note to Vox before you went to bed, wishing him well, hoping his broadcast was good. Tonight you did no such thing, your heart sitting heavily in your chest. He could have at least called and told you he'd be home late. Instead you had gotten nothing, so in turn, he would get nothing.

Vox finally managed to get back to his office, his last meeting had run a little bit late. But he didn't think he was running all that late. He grabbed his suit jacket, pulling it on as the clock behind him struck the hour. He counted each chime, frowning when it hit eight. So he would be home a little later than expected. The clock chimed once more before falling silent. Vox’s eyes found the clock face, his heart dropping into the pit of his stomach as it confirmed what he had just heard. Nine chimes, it was nine. He was in for a world of trouble when he got home, guilt already eating away at him. He was an hour late, and by the time he drove home, that'd be even more.

He got in about twenty minutes later, opening the door. The house he shared with you was dark. No lights on at all. He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he kicked off his shoes. After locking the door behind him, he headed towards the kitchen, expecting a note. When he found none waiting for him, his frown deepened. How upset were you with him that you hadn't even left him a note?

He looked forward to your notes, storing them all away in a shoebox kept under his side of the bed. Keepsakes, tokens of your love for him. If he hadn't been guilty before, he certainly was now. He headed towards the bedroom, shedding each layer of clothing as he went. He pushed open the door, pausing in the threshold of the bedroom he shared with you. You were fast asleep already. He didn't blame you, it was late and he had promised to be home over an hour ago. But he didn't like the idea that you had gone to bed angry with him. He entered the room fully, removing his shirt and pants. He sat down on the bed beside you, reaching out a hand to brush your hair out of your face. You moved at his light touch, a soft murmur escaping your lips.

“I'm home, babydoll.” He murmured, a frown on his face as he watched you roll over, turning your back to him.

The sight, though unintentional, hurt him. His hand brushed down your arm for a moment before he stood back up. He slipped off his socks and then his boxers. He wondered for a moment, if he should go sleep on the couch. Had he earned enough of your ire to warrant that? But more than anything, he wanted to have you in his arms. That desire won out over anything else. He headed towards the dresser, pulling out a new set of boxers and night pants. He slipped them both on, before he returned to the bed. That was when he noticed that you were laying on his side, and had been the entire time. He smiled at the realization, reaching out to brush your hair out of your face once again. It always seemed to fall into your face.

Vox slid into bed next to you, moving you enough to allow him to lay down comfortably. Upon sensing his presence, despite being asleep, you wrapped your arms around him. He smiled as you nuzzled against his chest. He rested his hand on your lower back, idly tracing his fingers up and down. You shifted again, the movement, paired with his idle strokes, had your nightgown riding up. Vox paused when his hand touched bare skin, a frown pulling at his lips. He shifted, his eyes roaming over your body in the dim light. You were wearing a nightgown, one of his favorites, and nothing else. The realization had his heart skipping a beat, his cock twitching to life. He shifted you off him, rolling onto his side to watch you as you slept. His eyes were drawn to your nightgown bunched around your waist, exposing your lower half to his hungry gaze. Vox reasoned that he might as well feel what he had missed out on before pulling your nightgown back down and going to bed. He moved his hand, his fingers slipping between your legs, teasing at your entrance. He bit his lip, finding that you were soaked.

“Fuck,” He whispered, not having expected you to be so wet. “I’m even more sorry for being late.”

A whine escaped your lips, your legs falling open as you ground yourself down against his hand. His fingers slipped inside you, his eyes widening as he sat up. He had every intent to pull his fingers out of you, not wanting to touch you without your express permission. But then his name was falling from your lips in a breathy moan, your hips grinding down. All resolve was flung out the window. Tentatively he began to move his fingers, pumping them in and out of you with practiced ease. Your head fell back, your legs spreading wider for him. Your breath was coming faster, your chest heaving as he slowly brought you closer to release.

“So beautiful for me.” He mummers, his other hand shoving down his night pants and boxers.

He kicked them from his frame, wrapping his hand around his length with a soft gasp. He began to pump himself in tune with every curl of his fingers pressing against that sweet spot inside you. The moans that fell from your lips were loud and lewd. Completely unashamed in your sleep and it was alluring. He felt your body tense beneath his touch, a loud moan gracing his ears in time with the way your walls squeezed around his fingers. Your release washed over you, your body quaking with the intensity of it. Your eyes fluttered open, post orgasmic bliss giving way to confusion.

“Vox?” You whispered, wiping away sleep from your eyes.

“Fuck.” He whispered, pulling his fingers from your dripping core. “Hey doll.”

You gasp at the feeling of his fingers slipping from you, your eyes catching on his hard cock. Which he hadn’t stopped pumping despite the fact that you had woken up. You swallow, your brows furrowing. You knew you should be upset that he had touched you without your permission. But instead, you felt weirdly loved and cherished.

“Did you have any intention on fucking me while I was asleep?” You ask softly, sitting up.

Guilt flashed through Vox, he finally removed his hand from his throbbing cock. “I’m sorry. None, I didn’t even mean to do this. I just…wanted to feel you, see what I missed.”

You hum, moving your hand to his cock. Vox gasped, his hips jerking at your touch.

“Doll?” He asked hesitantly, unsure of how you’d react, of what you were doing.

“Shut up for a moment.” You murmur. “I’m still deciding if I should be mad at you or not.”

He cracked a smile despite himself, cupping your cheek with his hand. You met his gaze, the room slightly illuminated by the moonlight spilling in from the windows.

“In my defense it was you rolling your hips down that started this. I had every intent to stop, to pull away.”

Another hum of acknowledgement, your eyes falling from his face to land on his cock again. The tip was leaking pre-cum and you couldn’t deny the fact that you were turned on. You shift forward, coming to straddle his lap. Your hand still on his cock, guiding him towards your entrance. You sank down onto his cock, moaning at the sensation of him filling you completely.

“Fuck.” Vox cursed, hips thrusting up into you as you slid down onto his length. “You’re not mad?”

You shake your head, hands resting against his shoulders as you began to slowly fuck yourself on his cock. “Not in particular.”

“You didn’t leave me a note.” He murmured, his breath coming a bit quicker at the sensation of your tight walls clenching around his cock. “You always leave me a note.”

“You could have called me.” You mutter in reply, “I’d have liked a call.  You always call.”

He frowned, his hands resting against your hips, guiding you. His pace picked up, meeting you thrust for thrust.

“My meeting ran late, I had no way to know the time. I’m sorry.” His voice was full of genuine remorse and guilt. “I’ll make it up to you, my dear.”

The soft slaps of your bodies joining together over and over filled the room, his soft grunts mixing with your moans.

“You already are.” You whisper, your walls fluttering around his cock.

You were close to another orgasm, and by the twitching of his cock, Vox was close to his as well. He pulls you into a gentle kiss, his hips moving faster, chasing that release.

“I love you.” He murmurs, pressing kiss after kiss to your mouth. “I love you so, so much. I don’t deserve you.”

Vox shifts, his cock slipping deeper inside you. Each thrust had him rolling against your g-spot, his cock-head kissing against your cervix. Your walls fluttered around his cock, your eyes rolling back in your head. Your moans were getting louder, more breathless.

“Vox, please.” You whined, so close to your release.

He kept his steady pace, his thumb finding your clit, rubbing tight circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves. He captured your mouth with his, swallowing your cries as you came. Your walls flexed around his cock, drawing him deeper.

“Oh fuck!” He growled, his hips stuttering as he came.

Hot ropes of cum splashed against your cervix, filling you to the brim with his seed. A whimper falls from your lips at the sensation, Vox slowing to a stop inside you. He shifts, laying down, taking you with him. The change in position makes you cry out, your body overly sensitive. You expected him to pull out of you, instead he remained buried balls deep inside you. His lips brushed over yours again.

“I love you.” He repeats softly, “So much. You’re my everything.”

You smile, wrapping your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss slightly. Now that the two of you were laying down, exhaustion was dragging at you, threatening to pull you into sleep.

“I love you too, Vox.” You whisper, eyes closing as you rested against his chest. “You’re my entire world.”

You fell asleep in his arms, his cock buried deep inside you, knowing that you were loved.

You were indeed the luckiest woman in the world.

[always-just-red]

Heya! Rafayel with a reader who's slightly afraid of deep water because she doesn't know how to swim? Fluff please!

Thanks for the request! Hoping this is the perfect balance of heartfelt moments and utter silliness. It's Raf, after all! Gotta have fun with it! ❤

Practice Makes Perfect

Rafayel x Reader 🎨

Summary: "I'll teach you how to swim!" he said. "It'll be fun!" he said. Let's be honest: the warning signs were there from the very start.

Genre: Fluff

Warnings/Additional tags: gn!reader, established relationship, one instance of swearing, a mild panic attack, humour, Raf bullies you ('out of love!!'— his words, not mine 🙃)

| Word count: 2.3k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Rafayel, can you stop that? Please?”

You watch as Rafayel bobs around in the water in front of you. “Swimming?” he asks, pushing slick hair back from his forehead with a lazy smile. “Nah. I’d drown.”

“No, I—” you suck in a sharp breath to keep yourself from wasting it. He knows exactly what you meant. He knows what he’s doing, too: making everything look effortless when you can’t even get out of the stupid boat.

It tips you a little closer towards the ocean, as if responding to your criticisms. You’re done with this. Done with him. Swimming lessons with Rafayel had seemed such a promising idea a few months ago, but now? You’re thinking it would have been better to go it alone. If you’d have drowned, you’d have at least drowned in peace.

He calls his teaching style ‘motivational’, which is to say he spends every lesson trying to motivate you to lunge at him, regardless of your personal safety. It was funny at the local pool. It’s less funny here, on a rickety boat in a deserted bay, where the only witnesses to your demise would be a setting sun and an insufferably smug Lemurian.

You glance up, seeking the familiar half-oceans of his eyes. They’re taunting you to the point of distraction: heating the blood in your veins that had just been running cold. Look at me, they gloat, alive with shimmering reflections, you’re mad at me, remember? 

And they have a point. You are. “Stop showing off.”

“Can’t help it.” Dark water laps at the pale of his collarbone. “It’s just so easy.”

“Says the actual mermaid.”

“Merman!”

“Oh whatever!”

He pouts. Then he strokes his chin thoughtfully. “I was worried about this,” he muses, as if he has actually masterminded a teaching plan, and hasn’t just been winging it from the start. He clicks his fingers, signalling a lightbulb moment. “Lucky for you, your super duper swimming teacher came prepared. Check my bag!”

He sinks until he’s peering out from the water, the lower half of his face submerged so you can’t see his smile. You can, though; it’s obvious. You roll your eyes and take the bait because it’s better than sitting here questioning your life decisions and your own mortality. Your hands rifle through his bag until they stumble upon something unusual. Smooth. Plastic. Is this what he meant?

You pull the package out into the evening light, narrowing your eyes.

Inflatable arm bands. Brand new. A toddler beams at you from their cover, seemingly thrilled by its extra buoyancy, and its parents are watching on with unbridled pride. You tilt your head as you read: suitable for ages 2-5! “Not funny, Raf. Not funny at all.”

“What d’you mean?” You flash the photo at him, tapping the toddler’s face. “Yeah? What about it?”

“These are for kids! You’re making fun of me now? Really?”

“No…” His hand leaves the water to scratch at the back of his head. “I thought that was a suggestion? It was kinda confusing, actually. You humans have such weird stuff to help you swim.”

“Oh don’t you dare play the Lemurian card right now!” you seethe, in the middle of retrieving an arm band from the packaging. “You knew! I know you did.”

Set on making your point, you blow air into the arm band’s nozzle. It’s so infuriatingly small; it takes all of three breaths to fill it. “I mean, look at it!” you exclaim, holding it out to him.

He barely keeps his act together. “I think it’s, like… stretchy, yeah?” His bottom lip is caught between his teeth: he’s biting back laughter. “Try it on, maybe it’ll—”

Smack! The arm band hits the water in front of him, and he blinks down at it, shocked.

“Wooooow,” he enthuses sarcastically, “nice throw! I bet the Wanderers just run for the hills when they see you comin—”

Thwack! Another half-inflated arm band strikes his face, and he reels backwards.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“You’re so full of it, Rafayel!” you can’t help leaning towards him, and the rowboat lurches. You clutch at the side of it, but you’ve had enough. “Ugh. Screw it.”

Your adrenaline is lurching too, and you make the most of the momentum: taking a deep breath and swinging your legs over the boat’s side. The chill of the ocean steals that breath away as you lower yourself into it. You’re going slowly, so slowly, your fingers still latched to the boat. But this is… something. You’re in the water. Oh gods you’re in the water. Don’t think about it. Don’t.

“Raf…” you squeak, because how can you not think about it when it’s cold and around your neck?

“I’m here,” he reassures from behind you, and he’s not close, but he’s close enough.

You look at him over your shoulder, gently tugging at the boat until you’re afforded a better view. He chuckles as he flicks the offending arm bands back into it: a calculated arc that sprinkles saltwater over your head. You wince, but you don’t mind.

“You just gonna… hang out there, then?” Rafayel enquires as you wipe a stray droplet from your eye.

“Yep.”

“Nice,” he grins, and it’s weirdly sincere. “Kinda wish you were over here, though.”

“Yeah?” You don’t move.

“I miss you.”

“Aww.”

You’re still not moving, but it doesn’t crush the embers of amusement that glow within his eyes. He’s thinking up ways to drive you crazy again, you just know it. “You could totally make it over here if you wanted,” he says flippantly. “It’s just swimming. If jellyfishes can do it, you definitely can.”

What? What? “They’re sea creatures!”

“Yeah, but they’re soooo stupid.” He taps his head. “No brains, y’know?”

You turn to the boat, pulling yourself impossibly closer to it. “Raf, c’mere,” you beckon, reaching back to him— grabbing at air.

“Why?” He draws nearer.

“So I can hit you.”

You swing a hand at him, but he dodges it, laughing. “If you wanna hit me, you have to reach me.”

There’s movement in the corner of your eye, so you twist to see it. His thumbs and forefingers have met as a square; he’s making a viewfinder. “What are you doing?” you speak from inside the frame.

“Making sure I remember this. I think I’ll paint it.” A corner of his lips lifts as he reveals a prospective title: “Cutie braves shark-infested waters.”

“Sharks?!”

“Who said anything about sharks?”

He’s messing with you— you know he’s messing with you— but you hide your face against your arms, all the same. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to stifle your senses and your spiralling thoughts. You’re feeling everything too keenly: the water licking at your throat, the darkness beneath you, around you, waiting to pull you under and fill your mouth.

You never feel further from Rafayel than when you remember he calls that darkness home.

“Rafayel?” you call out, because you need him to tell you you’re being ridiculous. You need him to laugh with you, at you— you don’t care so long as you can hear it.

The only sound is water, and it’s cold and dispassionate.

“…Rafayel?” You glance behind you, and he isn’t there.

What do you do? What do you do? Your mind is in contest with your heart; they’re both trying to see who can race faster. You still can’t move. Shit. What can you do?

“Hey.” Rafayel’s voice makes you jump. He’s next to you all of a sudden, water streaming down from his hair and running over his shoulders. He rests an arm on the boat, too. “I’m here, ok? I’ve got you. Just breathe.”

Breathe? “Don’t do that!” you force out of aching lungs, and then your mouth is trying to catch up with the rest of you. “I thought something happened to you! What if something did happen to you? I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t help you. What if—”

“Hey, hey, hey, hey,” he cuts in. “Nothing’s gonna happen to me. I’m not going anywhere.”

Your eyes are watering and he’s so close, but it’s not enough. You reach out, pulling him, urging him to close the distance, and he leans in, pressing his forehead to yours. You can feel the heat of his breath and it’s deep, slow: one, two. One. Two. You hold him until you can match it, and almost everything’s still— the ocean, your mind— but not your heart.  

The waves break softly against the boat and they’re breathing with him, too.

“You ok?” Rafayel murmurs. His wet hair is clinging to your skin.

“Yeah,” you sigh.  

He pulls away and gives you a smile. “Wanna know what I’m thinking about?”

Always.  

“The claw machine,” he continues, because it was, as you suspected, a rhetorical question. “Remember that time you took, like, a hundred goes to get that one plushie? We were there for, what— an hour? Maybe two?”

You sniffle, and you’re just leaning on the boat, now— not gripping it. “That’s because it was a peach blossom birb, Raf. They’re super rare.” Another sniffle. “And the only reason I got it is because you kept buying more tokens.”

“Yeah,” he nods. “Because I knew you’d get it eventually. Just like I know you’re gonna get this. We’ve got all the tokens in the world, yeah? So it’s just like before. One go at a time.”

His gaze is full of faith, and you want to be worthy of it. “One go at a time,” you repeat. “Thanks, Raf. Really.” You tilt towards him again, set on kissing his cheek, but he swerves away like it’s another attack.  

“Nuh-uh.” He propels himself backwards. “You wanna kiss me? You gotta meet me out here, cutie.”

And he’s so far already. “C’mon, Raf,” you whine.

“C’mon yourself! Look at me!” He runs a hand through his hair— beads of water sliding and sparkling across his skin. “I’m a total catch.”

“More like catch of the day when I get my hands on you.”

“Cute,” he quips, treading water. “You gonna come get me then, or what?”

You eye up the distance between you. You’re willing yourself to cross it; it won’t be good, it won’t be graceful, but you can do it, right? You just have to go for it. Three. Two. One… Go!

Nothing happens. Rafayel laughs quietly, and it’s warm— so passionate.  

“Here,” he says, meeting you in the middle. He holds out his hand.

You can’t trust the boat; it rocks beneath your touch and at the behest of every wave. It is just a thing, like you, at the mercy of something so much bigger than itself. Not Rafayel, though. He’s a part of all this, maybe even the heart of all this. The ocean will not betray him. It needs him to beat for it. To bleed.

Your hand grasps his and you let him guide you into the open water. You’re borrowing him. Stealing him, if only for a moment. He isn’t living for his ocean right now— he’s looking at you. Just you. There are canvases back in his studio, awash with cerulean waves and his love for Lemuria, but there are sketchbook pages, too: you, asleep on his couch. You, with a lily in your hair.

A few days from now, there’ll be a new one, etched eagerly in dark pencil. This.  

Rafayel smiles as you tread water with him. Your movements are clumsy, half-frantic, but you’re keeping yourself afloat. He gives you time to adjust, to find some semblance more of a natural rhythm, but your muscles ache and you’re getting tired, so he draws your arms around his neck.

“What d’you think?” he asks, because you’ve captured him. “Better than a beach bottom bird, right?”

“A peach blossom birb,” you giggle into his shoulder.

“Yeah, that too.”

…

The sky is full of stars, and the sun has sunk behind the wine-dark horizon.  

Rafayel rests his chin on his arms, staring down into the ocean from the edge of the boat, and he’s deep, deep below those waters too. You don’t have to see his eyes to know the faraway look they’re harbouring. There’s nostalgia for all the things he cannot show you. Grief. Rage. Regret.

He thinks you don’t see it, but you do. Especially on nights like this, when the azures of the waves turn black beneath the moon, and they could just as well be blood-red.

“Thanks for waiting for me, Rafayel.”

You’re not sure what compels you to say it, but he glances up at you, his gaze a brief storm of turquoise before settling to its usual amethyst. “Waiting for you?” he asks warily.

“To get all of this swimming stuff. I know it must seem silly to you.”

He relaxes, sitting up straight with a smirk. “Most of what you do seems silly to me. Not this, though. Change can be… scary sometimes.”

“Yeah.”

He slouches back down, but he’s on his side this time— still looking at you. “What made you decide you wanna swim, anyway?”

You mirror him, laying your head against the boat’s edge. “I don’t know. I guess—” waves are sloshing beneath you— “I guess it’s because the sea is a part of you. It’s in your paintings, your stories, and I’ve always felt… disconnected from it. Like it’s fiction— something I could only ever hear about second-hand. But I want to feel it for myself. To know it. All of it. All of you.”  

With a sigh, you give your hand to the ocean and draw mindless shapes in the water. Rafayel watches. You both know you’re only touching the surface.

He smiles, bittersweet. “Wanna go home?” he says.

Home. You pull your hand out of the water and smile back.

It’s been a long day. Yeah, you wanna go home.

[dumbsoftheart]

gibson girl

pairing: post-university!coriolanus snow x reader

tags: 18+, mdni. dark themes, heavy mention of drug and alcohol usage, abusive/toxic relationship, calls reader a bitch, degradation, cunnilingus, vaginal sex

summary: “obsession with the money, addicted to the drugs. says he’s in love with my body, that’s why he’s fucking it up.” you and coryo aren’t proud of the relationship you’ve built, but you both can’t seem to get enough of each other.

notes: yes this is a repost because i did not proofread this and got a bit embarrassed. this is probably my most crudely written work, sorry (not!), and for a lack for better words is not as carefully written as my other fics, but i hope you all like it <3 this is probably the last i will write for coryo aside from any continuations of past works for now so soak it all in!!!!!

word count: 3.2k

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in the dimly lit hideaway of pluribus’s nightclub, where pulsating lights of reds, purples, blues, greens gleamed kaleidoscopically against the writhing mass of glittering bodies and thumping music, stood coriolanus snow. he hated the affair, being clamoured in the sweat and smoke of dancing strangers, a complete infiltration of his personal space, and far too stuffy for anyone’s comfort. it was an incongruous occurrence, his presence in the glitter-drenched revelry. clemensia had tormented him that day, with piercing whines of “but it’s your birthday!” and “won’t you ever have fun?”, and there he was, ludicrously dressed in slacks and a half-undone button-up shirt, courtesy of a drunken sejanus, traces of glitter— which he despised, smeared across his face and neck. when arachne had showed up and rubbed her lustre infested fingertips all over his clean-shaven face, he’d wanted to kill her right then and there. he sat there,  wide-legged in the private section of the club, fiddling with a half empty bottle of champagne with happy birthday! streamers dangled across his shoulders. he’d had about three of festus’s liquor concoctions, with their repulsively sweet maraschino aftertastes, but amidst the chaotic symphony that had his head spinning, there existed one exception to his distaste for the ordeal—a vision he couldn't bring himself to detest: you.

festus sat next to him, head nodding and lolling to the side from inebriation, and coriolanus kept a distant eye on clemensia and arachne as they disappeared into the dense crowd of hot, glittering bodies. his body yearned for the solace of his bed, plagued by the ache of alcohol and half-hearted dancing that numbed his legs, and the variegated torment of the club's vibrant lights— and then there you stood.

adorned in a cascade of the remnant sparkles that had rubbed off on you as you danced, gold flakes carefully splayed across your eyelids, and a daringly short dress hugging tightly on your hips graced your curves as you moved without care among the chaotic company of the nightclub. when coriolanus watched you beeline into his peripheral, open-backed dress teasingly swaying as you spun in hand with one of your friends, smiling so bright you outshone everyone else in that godforsaken bar, his hands tightened on the bottle held between his legs, and he exhaled slowly through parted lips. 

the subtle reaction provoked a slight nudge and a cocky smile from festus, to which coriolanus rolled his eyes childishly at, fixing his gaze between his legs in an attempt to veil the growing want spreading through his veins. festus wasted no time in spewing some audacious insinuations about coriolanus and a hypothetical "dancing girl across the room" to a stumbling clemensia and arachne (“so every girl in here?” arachne had giggled, rippling a current laughter throughout the rest of the group and a juvenile grumble from festus). then, without warning, coriolanus pulled himself to his feet and pushed your way, propelled by a mix of inebriated bravado and annoyance, running a hand through his hair nervously as he (cutely) tried to dance his way to you. 

drunk and hazy, you wasted no time in latching your arms around him, flashing him a smile that had him feeling weak and guiding him to sway in tandem with you as the music blared and vibrated through your souls. you’d coaxed his hips to move in consonance with yours, and soon he’d figured out the rhythm you set, his hands delicately enveloping the contours of your waist. he was grinding his hips against the curve of your ass yours in a manner that was far too seductive for a first encounter and had you gasping lowly under the booming noise of music and conversation. 

by the end of the night, coryo had bid his friends goodbye with his lips half-attached to yours, and fucked you so good and hard you struggled to walk for a week. 

he returned the next weekend, alone, a halfhearted attempt to alleviate his stresses within the familiar embrace of the bustling speakeasy. he needed a drink, and he went to the first place he could think of. he had expected the place to be buzzing on a friday night, but he hadn’t expected to see you again. 

he hated smoking, but something about the way you slowly let the dense vapour of your joint escape your lips with a dimwitted smile made his cock twitch. with a swig of whiskey, he made his way towards you, snatching the long stick of cannabis from your fingers and taking a long, hot drag. in a fluid motion, he closed the space between you, blowing the smoke between the parted entrance of your lip-glossed lips with a light hand venturing to your waist. the night continued with you on his lap, high and dazed from both the weed and the delicious feeling of coriolanus’s lips on your neck, sucking and nipping dark marks onto the softness of it. he was marking you as his, and you loved every second of it. 

he coaxed you into a few more drinks, cooing words of dirty praise into your ear when you downed the dark liquor from his hands, whispering softly in your ear how much he loved your body, the sweet and sexy suppleness of it, and you became his, entirely. when he beckoned you to take another drag of a joint, you complied. when he whispered into your ear the order of his drink, you fetched it for him, sipping it lightly on his command, and when he bent you over the club’s bathroom sink and ordered you to spread your legs a liiittle further, you did. 

after that occurrence, it was like clockwork. he was downright filthy when he fucked you; he’d show up, tense with frustrations from work, and there you’d be, beautiful and seductive as ever, and he would fuck his tribulations into your sweet little cunt like his life depended on it. like he never got tired of it, he’d slowly drag the head of his cock over your slick folds, circle it around your clit and then pound into you sloppily. he’d mumble how dirty you were before loading you with his cum, then he’d flip you over and finger-fuck you to a blissful release, making sure not a single drop of his load escaped your throbbing hole. he especially liked fucking you in the clothes he bought you, ruining the expensive fabrics he splurged on greedily. you’d grown used to the gifts he’d send you. you didn't know how he’d found your address, but you couldn't find it in you to care. the plethora of dresses and jewellery and shoes he sent you, always tagged with a note, for my aphrodite, made up for it. you loved dressing up for him, to his tastes, because it made him desire you all the more. the minute he caught sight of you in his hand picked ensemble, it was impossible to get his hands off of you. he was addicted to you, and how easy it was for him to claim you. just like that, you were his, and he loved even more that you embraced it; showed him off. 

coriolanus hated the bright colours of the club, but he adored them on you. he’d always pick dresses and accessories that glinted brightly in the right light, and he’d set the dark private room to a cool silvery blue that was easy on the eyes. you’d dance for him, not because he asked, but because you loved it, and he’d sit smugly and watch, sipping on some dark liquor that you loved to taste on him before pulling you onto his lap with a small laugh and letting you ride him until the sun rose again. when you ground your hips against him, sucking him to the base, he’d string his hands through your hair and moan out pathetically, “i’m never gonna let you go, never gonna let you fucking go,” which was far too intimate for the relationship the two of you had struck, but it only drew your orgasm closer and made your heart swell, the bittersweet combo better than any drug you could take on the market. 

he was addicted to you, in every sense of the word. “takin’ my cock so well, baby, fuck” he’d choke out in a high pitched whine, nails digging even deeper into your ass as he slammed your velvety walls into him, “pretty fuckin’ pussy.. sucks me in like it needs me,” his thrusts would get sloppier, your pretty moans egging him on to coax more out of you to satiate his fix. in a moment of vulnerability, he’d peer down at you with his brows scrunched together, lips quivering and ask, “do you need me?” 

you were too dumb and fucked out to answer, just as he liked, and he loved to slide a lousy hand to rub circles on your swollen clit while he angled his fat cock in a way that made your body weak and drool escape from the corners of your mouth, and repeat the question until your body shook uncontrollably with pleasure. 

“n-need you so bad, coryo, fuck me so good, please, please” you would pant in your breathy, whiny voice, absolutely unintelligible, squirming and shaky. 

“tell me again, baby, do you need me?” he’d try to overstimulate the words he wanted out of you, searching your eyes desperately until you croaked out a small yes, and his head would fall into the crevice of your neck as you managed to take almost all of him simultaneously, moaning out as he came inside you. 

when things turned slightly sour between the two of you, it only fueled your aching want for each other more. you were insecure, desperate for his approval, and when you sensed a glimmer of his disinterest in you, you were quick to spark up an argument with him; the only way you could figure out to show him you care without explicitly telling him. it was toxic, and part of you loved it. you loved to rile him up, make him so angry he’d brutally grumble in your ear how much of a slut, whore, bitch you were. you loved when the two of you would go at it and he would force you into an empty room, ramble about how much he hated you while he pumped his cock into you at an agonisingly fast pace, and then bring you two to sweet relief with a barely audible i love you, please never leave me, and then send you home. 

he hit you, sometimes. it would always happen after sex, when his insecurities got the best of him and he’d strike another argument of his own to form some semblance of conversation with you, then be driven to madness by his own doing so severe that his hand would unleash upon your cheek, staining the soft skin of your mandible a familiar shade of red. when he slapped you during sex, you hated it. you had no means of fighting back and winning, so you combat him with your words. 

“you’ll never amount to anything, snow,” slap, and his hand grabbed at your tits crudely, “you can walk around this city and act like you own it,” another slap, then he’d wrap his hand around your neck as he made you cum until your body couldn’t handle it, “and you can try control everything,” slap,“but you’ll never be able to control what matters.”

you tried your best to dig at his biggest fears, vulnerabilities, anything to ignite that shimmer of pain in his eyes so he could feel a morsel of what you did for him. he was coldblooded, and it took more than a simple jab at his ego to make him bleed. you loved him. everyone knew you did, no matter how much you denied it, because you wore him everywhere you went. in your clothes lingered his scent, under them, his bruises, and you were irrevocably his. 

you knew how deep you were in after your final shred of patience snapped. coriolanus wanted to play it hard today? fine. and off you were, dancing like a whore in the middle of the dancefloor with one of coryo’s coworkers. he sat and watched you dance with a fire burning in his eyes, his teeth grinding painfully and his hand wrapped around his glass so hard it threatened to shatter (on another occasion, it did). then, when you’d snaked a hand down the drunken man’s abdomen, lip bitten and eyes heavy with lust, he’d grabbed you harshly and stormed out of the club into the cold streets of the capitol, and you smiled. the sound of your heels clacking against the pavement reverberated in your chest. you threw him a loud “fuck you!” as he tugged you out of sight from any passerby, then, without warning, you found yourself pressed up a damp wall by the neck, coriolanus’s thin fingers twisting painfully into your carotid. 

“you’re a spoiled fucking brat, you know that?” his hands plunged into your underwear, and he toyed with your clit dangerously fast as he stared you down.

“did you want to fuck him?” the way he spat at you made you squeeze your thighs together. you smiled, mouthing a slow ‘yeah’, groaning when his grip around your neck tightened and your body became lax from the lack of air and his fingers on your dripping pussy. he dropped you, stroked a loving hand through your hair then grabbed your jaw, forced it open, and dug his two fingers down your throat.

“do you think he can fuck you as good as i can, you bitch?”

you gazed up at him, eyes wet and hazy and fucked out with lust, and mumbled with a smile, “mhm..”, he forced his fingers deeper, and you moaned. 

“don’t fucking lie,” tears streamed down your face now as you struggled to breathe with his fingers shoved down your throat, and your eyes widened as you heard the familiar sound of his belt buckle, “can he make this pussy cum as hard as i do, hm?”

he hitched your dress up, pushed your panties to the side forcefully, and lined his tip with your entrance while he awaited your answer. you shrugged, slowly becoming dizzy from gagging on his slender fingers, whining from the absence of his touch, and he growled angrily as he began to pound into you relentlessly. 

he removed his fingers from your mouth to slap you wide across the face, the slick of your saliva on his fingers causing them bouncing painfully on your cheek, and your smile grew further. 

“yeah, you fucking slut, this what you wanted? for me to fuck the sense back into you?” 

coryo liked it messy. he loved berating you, degrading you, arms wrapped tightly around your torso and feeling your cunt grow wetter on his cock as he did so. he loved to make you an embarrassing, babbling mess, then force you to watch as he bullied his way into you, a rough hand in your hair as he pumped his cock with an inhuman fervour. 

“you like that don’t you? keep watching.”

“fuck, coryo!” 

“thats right baby, let ‘em hear who you belong to.” 

you pressed your forehead against his, panting heavily through parted lips as you kept your gaze on those sapphire eyes of his that you adored, mumbling incoherent pleads and apologies as your release approached. 

“are you going to listen to me?” and with a tear-inducing orgasm, you shrieked cries of yes, coryo, fuck yes! into his shoulder, biting harshly on his pale skin as you tried to quiet yourself.

you walked home that night, panties soaked with his cum and a few new bruises to remember the night from. 

this was the routine the two of you had settled in. neither of you were proud of it, neither of you liked it, but neither of you knew how to do it any differently. you didn’t know how to love unless it was through petty quarrels or you were too high to remember the feeling. coriolanus didnt know how to love unless constituted of complete, whole control of you-- and you couldn’t bear accepting his love like in that form, not sober at least. so you let him. you let him destroy you, bit by bit. you would pump yourself full of any and all drugs you could find, down the glasses upon glasses handed to you on his lap, and the two of you would love, the only way you knew how. 

when things were like that; desperate and full of unspoken feelings after a tense week of not seeing each other, the private room the two of you often booked would glitter a dark red light, flickering radiantly against the sequins of your dress, and the pearly blonde of his hair; and you’d stand above him, between his legs, stroking the soft hidden curls of his in a haze, feeling so good and loose from whatever he’d given you that you’d giggle without warning, lean close to him and press earnest, loving kisses to his lips in between mumbles of i love you’s. he would nod, tears welling in his eyes, hating how far he had to go to make you feel love for him again, and cradle your face in his hands, kissing you with every ounce of his being. you’d find yourself straddled on his lap, like always, kissing red marks along his neck and his shirt and chest gently as you comforted him, trying your best to wash away his worries and assure him that you did, in your own messed up way, truly love him. he’d flip you over, hook your legs over his shoulders and lap messily at you until morning came. he would do it forever, if he could-- get on his knees and devote himself to eating you out. his hands would grip your thighs like he was afraid you would slip away from him, and he’d rest his head on one of your thighs after making you cum for the third time, staring up at you, breathless, face glistening, and mouth parted like you were everything to him; before diving into the saccharine mess of your pussy again. he knew how to please you like the back of his hand. he knew how to edge his nose against your folds in the way that made you whine and thrash; he knew when to insert his fingers into your gummy walls, how to curl them in a way that had you come undone in a mere seconds, how to kitten-lick his way around your clit with a lewd moan, drag out long, animalistic groans from you that had you gripping his hair so hard you wondered how you didnt rip the follicles straight out his head. 

the relentless cycle of passion and pain that defined your bond, the late-night arguments that left scars deeper than their words, the moments of fleeting tenderness that were overshadowed by deceit and manipulation. whatever you and coriolanus snow had made had eroded into a relationship neither of you could understand, but neither of you could let go. you were each other’s life lines, so when he hit you, you thanked him, and when you dug your knife deeper into his heart, he’d tell you he loved you. even as he fucked you up, ruined you, you knew he was doing it out of love, and you were grateful. 

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@dumbsoftheart, 2023

[soldiersslut]

GHOST OF YOU — SOLDIER BOY "CHAPTER ONE"

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Female!Reader

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 2,638

Author's Note: I am super duper excited for this! I am happy to see others are as well. Thank you so much again!

IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED PLEASE LET ME KNOW. DON'T FORGET TO FOLLOW, HEART, AND REPOST. THANK YOU AGAIN!

“I am gone for one day, and this is what happens. Was putting MM to sleep really necessary?” You asked, watching what unfolded from afar. MM told Annie ahead of time what the plan was, and Annie told you.

It was no surprise that neither Butcher or Hughie had told anyone else about the plan. Little by little their recklessness was clouding their judgment. Going as far as to putting MM to sleep. Butcher scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“He is just taking a little nap. I cannot have him getting in the way and as much as you might not want to agree, you do. Soldier Boy is our weapon, and we need to make sure he is satisfied with our gift waiting inside.”

You stayed silent. There was no point in arguing with him.

“Don’t you think someone should stay inside with her? Just have eyes on her in case she tries anything?” you suggested.

Butcher nodded and tilted his head towards the direction of the door. “Since you offered to babysit, have fun. I will be waiting for him out here.”

You did not move until Butcher did. He stayed facing the trees. Your friendship with Butcher is interesting, to say the least. While you did not agree with most of Butcher’s plans the end goal was all the same. He had been the one to recruit you after MM vouched for you. Before joining the Boys you were a combat medic specialist for the Army. Most of your work consisted in base to assist soldiers as well as help in humanitarian situations. Somewhere along the way you met MM, and you made a big enough impact he remembered you.

Here you are now serving as medic most of the times, but when things get bad you are ready to fight and defend yourself.

“Who’s there?” spoke up Countess, panic heard in her tone. All you had done was enter her trailer and stay by the door for a moment.

You looked to your right to see Countess’ hands had been taped and chained down. You stepped out of the shadow so she could have a closer look at you. Though you made sure to keep your distance.

“That’s impossible,” she whispered.

You were unable to hide your confusion. Both of your eyebrows furrowed closer together and you tilted your head slightly.

“I’m sorry?” you questioned, hoping she was going to elaborate what she means by it.

She began to shake her head and a snarl formed on her lips.

“Don’t play stupid with me, bitch. You’ve been alive this entire fucking time!” Countess snapped and attempted to harshly pull on the chains to let herself loose.

You blinked twice at the audacity of her attitude. This is the first time you are meeting her and somehow you are supposed to know her. There is one thing you’ve noticed about Countess though. Behind her anger, there was fear.

“I am not playing stupid! What the hell are you talking about?” you snapped back.

“Come on, Mimi, you’re really wanting to play stupid? Isn’t it just a tiny bit coincidence that Soldier Boy is out of Russia and you are here. You’re not supposed to be here. I was told you stayed in Russia.”

You still could not hide your confusion. You were so taken back you blinked multiple times and shook your head.

“Well, obviously, I am not in Russia. This was the one and only time I went. Care to explain what the hell is going on through that chimp brain of yours?!” you demanded to know.

Before Countess could say anything the door to the outside opened. Your eyes remained on her while she looked behind you to see who showed up.

“Ben? Is that really you?” she asked.

Slow, but heavy footsteps can be heard. Slowly you turned around and came face to face with Soldier Boy.

And there it is again.

The same look Countess had when she saw you was the same look Soldier Boy had. Soldier Boy completely ignored Countess at the moment. He was just staring at you, and you stared back waiting for him to say something. Nothing was said, but there was a trance between you both. You nor him could look away from one another. Countess decided to break it.

“You look so young,” she complimented. Soldier Boy had been quick to answer, “you don’t.” And yet he had not even looked at her for him to say such a thing. This was not your place to be at.

“I’m leaving,” you announced. The trailer was small and the amount of things Countess had made it even smaller. With three steps you would be out of the door, but as you took two steps forward Soldier Boy moved to the side to block you.

“No, you’re staying” he ordered.

You were stunned by his demand and was unable to protest. It was not going to get you anywhere and you did not want to make him angry either. The man was on a vengeance, and you had no power to fight against someone like him. He moved past you and stood in front of Countess now. She let out a laugh.

It was obvious you did not wish to be there. This was something personal, and almost intimate. You tried blocking out their conversation but it was impossible. Nothing in the room was interesting enough to stare at and zone out.

“I loved you.”

That’s when things got interesting. You did not even have to look at Soldier Boy to hear the sadness in his voice. The way he was describing his pain, torture, and yet still held onto the hope. It explains why he felt so betrayed. This time you turned to look at Soldier Boy and Countess. His back was towards you, but Countess could still see you. Her eyes moved to you and she shook her head in disbelief. She let out a scoff and spoke.

“You did not love me, you loved her. Deny it all you want, but it has always been about her. You never looked at me the way you looked at her. Hell, you fucking treated her better than you’ve ever treated anyone else. It was about damn time she got smart enough and left you. She knew her worth. When she left I was furious because I had the hope that with her being out of the picture you would have changed for the better, but you only got worse with time. I would have done the same thing and left you, but I made a vow to make you pay for everything. For every tear, pleads, and humiliation I had to endure because of you. I hated you.”

There was silence afterwards. You were not sure what to think of Countess’ speech. She keeps bringing you up, and yet it makes no sense. You have never met Countess before. Much less Soldier Boy. The last time they were together it was during the 1980s. You weren’t even a thought.

“As for you, why did you go back for him? You had a life all sorted out for you. His words might sound sweet, but you know better than I that the only person he will only look out for is himself.”

This was your opportunity to say something. You wanted to ask her for clarification. She held something against you, and you cannot even wrap your mind around what it is. Though it was too late.

“Leave.”

You looked at Soldier Boy who continues to have his back towards you.

“Wait a minute—” you began to protest but was rudely interrupted.

“Are you stupid and deaf now? Go!” he snapped.

You then realized why he demanded you left. You can see the light forming in his chest and aimed toward Countess. Without a second thought you ran out and sprinted towards Butcher.

“The hell happened in there?” Butcher demanded to know.

“He’s about to explode! Grab MM!” you yelled, and right on cue a loud explosion occurred behind you.

There was so much force that wind picked up and forced you to fall on the ground. Butcher was quick to grab MM and be out of harm’s way. From the ground you turned around and used your elbows to sit up and look at the damage. The trailer was gone, but the debris was scattered everywhere. You stood up and rushed towards MM to make sure he was okay.

Annie called out to you, and Hughie followed behind her.

“MM is alright. Butcher was able to get him out of the way,” you explained and lightly slapped MM’s face multiple times hoping that would wake him up. Once again you heard the heavy footsteps and all attention was shifted to Soldier Boy who appeared from the fog of what used to be Countess’ trailer. You got up from the floor and just watched. Annie had gotten defensive and Soldier Boy noticed. He watched Annie, but then looked at you. He stopped moving and just stared like he has done before.

Once again the both of you were in a trance. The trance got disrupted by Hughie’s voice as he tried to reason with Annie. He and Butcher began to follow behind Soldier Boy. You stayed in place with Annie and MM who was starting to wake up.

“I’m alright,” MM assured. You and Annie helped him off of the ground and watched the other trio walking away. Though Soldier Boy came to a stop and turned around to see who was following.

“What the hell is happening now?” MM asked. Soldier Boy, Butcher, and Hughie were talking and it almost looked like an argument. They began to walk back towards the other trio.

“You are coming with us,” Butcher ordered, pointing at you. Annie and MM quickly got defensive.

“It is the only way Soldier Boy is going to cooperate with us. Either she comes or he goes into destructive mode. I don’t know what the hell you told him in there, but he is demanding you” Butcher explained. Butcher was getting desperate and if he has to knock you out, carry you, or threaten you he’ll do it.

Annie and MM were not convinced, but you were. If someone has all the answers to your questions it must be him.

“Soldier Boy can suck my dick too and I still would not accept her leaving. Go fuck yourself, Butcher. He is your problem!” MM argued.

Soldier Boy now stepped forward, “we can do this the easy way where no one gets harmed, or I can do this my way where I can just kill you both” he suggested. It only made things worse as Annie’s eyes lit up. MM walked towards Soldier Boy to get in his face. You moved quickly to get in between both.

“No! One death is already enough for tonight. I will go with you under one condition and that is for you not to harm my friends. It isn’t because I am scared of you.”

You stood your ground against Soldier Boy. If it were anyone else to have spoken to him the way you did right now he would have put them six feet underground by now. Though this is you, he remained quiet but his hands turned into fist and by how tight he formed them a small squeak was let out from the leather gloves he is wearing.

You heard the squeak and knew he was holding it in together. “Shall we, then?” you asked and motioned the direction they were heading towards to. You looked up at Soldier Boy who continued to stare. At this point it was getting annoying. You said nothing to him and walked away. Before the distance got greater you looked at MM and Annie.

“I will be okay, I promise.”

That was going to be the last time you will see them both until who knows when. You said nothing else, even when you all got to the car. Butcher drove and Hughie got the passenger side. You sighed and got in the back with Soldier Boy. It was a small space and with someone large such as Soldier Boy is sitting next to you the space is limited. Your knee was forced to touch his own. You ignored the way he kept moving his knee slowly as if he was trying to feel you. Butcher was explaining their next destination but they needed to find lounging for tonight. After some time in the road they found a motel in the middle of nowhere. Butcher checked them in.

“You are staying with me Soldier Boy, while Hughie stays with you” said Butcher to you. Hughie was okay with that and offered to sleep on the couch. Soldier Boy hated the idea.

“Fuck you, I am staying with her. I’m not about to share a bed with another set of balls and a dick.”

You rolled your eyes, “and what makes you think I want to?”

“Oh, please sweetheart. Playing hard to get doesn’t get you anywhere. Drop the attitude.”

“Make me.”

Butcher intervened, “alright, alright! All of us are staying in a room together. I will sleep on the floor, Hughie gets the couch, and both of you figure it out in the room. I am going to ask for a refund on one of the rooms.”

Butcher left to the main office while the rest walked towards the room. You entered and took a look around. It was clean, a little spacious, and there was only one bed. The argument began again.

“You are indestructible, a soldier, and have been sleeping for a long time already. You do not need the bed! You can sleep anywhere else!” you snapped.

At this point Hughie had given up in playing mediator.

“The bed is large enough for the both of us. Quit your whining!” Soldier Boy reasoned.

The argument continued until Butcher showed up and put an end to it. In the end you were going to share a bed with him. You sat down on your side and just watched the rest get comfortable. Butcher had clothes for Soldier Boy to change into.

“We have a long day tomorrow. Get some sleep” Butcher ordered. He turned off the lights. Hughie said goodnight to you and you said it back. You laid on the bed and felt it sink next to you. You turned and saw Soldier Boy smirk. You were ready to wipe the smirk off of his face.

“You know you can scoot in closer if it gets too cold. I don’t bite” he whispered the last part to you. You scoffed and turned to your side. There was not enough pillow to form some wall between you both. Eventually sleepiness took over the nerves, and you had fallen asleep.

Soldier Boy had yet to fall asleep. He was the last one awake. Everything that has happened in the past two days has been replaying over in his mind. He looked down at you sleeping so peacefully. Why were you acting like this? Why was he a stranger in your eyes? It has been a conflicting thought since the moment he laid eyes on you. Even now he wonders if this was a test and he was actually at the lab still. He was hoping it wasn’t.

You moved in your sleep and was facing him now. Hair had fallen onto your face. Slowly and lightly he moved it out of the way of your face. His finger stayed on your cheek; feeling your soft skin.

Whether this was a test or a dream, he knows he never wants to wake up for he has found you once again.

Next Chapter: Chapter Two

Author’s Note: Hello again! I hope everyone is enjoying this as much as I am. As you can tell we are following season three but there will be changes along the way. I chose to start on season three so we can see how it begins to unfold for Soldier Boy and reader. There will be lots of angst and drama soon. Just please be patient and thank you so much again for reading!

[weirdsht]

Hihihi hello!!! Hope ur doing well 🫶🏻

Cale n the co with someone who likes to give quick, gentle kisses? It can be platonic as well (sorry i kiss everything i like)—the kids, rosalyn, cage, hannah, their pillows, n many more. Like imagine kissing the kids' foreheads more than just few seconds and so sweetly bc they love their adorable little faces with big doe eyes so much-- I'm gonna cry so bad bro. I live for happiness w my unreal beloveds 🫂

Hershey’s - LoTCF & Gn! Reader

notes: I think 4+1 fics are becoming my go-to...

tags: gender neutral reader, sickfic at the end, fluff, kisses, platonic

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are currently closed but my ask are still open (read navi)

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When you first worked with Cale everyone was immediately introduced to your… peculiar habit.

Kiss!

[Name] kissed Cale’s hand as a greeting.

“It’ll be my pleasure to work with you young master.”

“Is this how you greet everyone?”

Cale asked but he didn’t look uncomfortable. Unlike when Clopeh compliments him. Because unlike that lunatic, the young master could feel the respect in that peck.

“When it seems appropriate. I’ll refrain from doing it if you are uncomfortable.”

Yup, [Name] is a hundred times better than Clopeh. They can’t even be compared.

“No, it’s fine. I was just curious.”

“As long as the young master doesn’t mind then.”

+~+~+~+~+~+

It was a rare day when everyone was taking a day off. No one was training or anything. They have all collectively decided to laze around.

“[Name] tells us a bedtime story!”

Raon demands as he and the kittens lie down on Cale’s bed. The owner was rolling around the marble floors somewhere else.

“But it’s still midday? Why would you want a bedtime story now?”

[Name] tilts their head in confusion at the kid’s demand.

“Cale told us that anytime is a good time to sleep nya!”

Hong reasoned as he tapped his paw on the bed for emphasis.

“Fair enough. I’ll get a fairy tale book then.”

Two stories in and the children already looked drowsy. All of them are ready to take a nap. [Name] closed the book they were reading and leaned down to kiss each of the children’s foreheads.

“Sleep well, kids.”

After that, they demand [name] to tell them a bedtime story every night.

…it certainly wasn’t because the kiss felt nice.

…not at all.

+~+~+~+~+~+

“Thanks for training with me Choi Han!”

[Name] thanked the swordmaster. Only the two of them are in the plaza. Everyone else had already finished for the day but [name] asked Choi Han for extra training.

“No problem.”

Choi Han replies as he hands his friend a bottle of water to drink.

Together they sat in silence. Only the sound of the water being drank and the towel wiping their sweat could be heard.

“Come one, let’s go. We have to shower before Beacrox kicks our asses.”

[Name] chuckled as they offered their hand for Choi Han to grab. The black-haired man also laughs as he imagines the chef’s angry face.

Once they reached the door to [name]’s room they got on their tiptoe.

Kiss!

Then kissed Choi Han’s cheeks.

“Thanks again, Choi Han! I’ll treat you to something nice next time!”

With that, they enter their room leaving the poor man outside with a very red face.

“First time?”

Rosalyn laughs as she passes by the swordmaster.

Choi Han knows that it’s just the way [name] shows affection.

But still, he can’t help but feel embarrassed.

+~+~+~+~+~+

Sniff. Sniff.

On sniffed as she held back her tears. 

Why the tears one might ask?

She accidentally scraped her knee while running around in the Forest of Darkness. The sting from the wound hurts so bad that it makes her tear up.

“Oh no baby come here. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

[Name] picks the silver kitten up so they can clean the wound. Once they entered the room On was placed on the bed so they could get the first aid kit.

In no time, the kitten’s knee is all bandaged up.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“No. Thank you [name].”

[Name] smiled brightly as they received On’s gratitude. They then leaned down and kissed the silver kitten’s bandaged knee.

“To make it heal faster.”

“Then… every time one of us gets hurt we can go to you to kiss it all better?”

On paws [name]’s face. They are now on their way back to meet up with everyone.

“Of course! But that right is exclusive for children. The grown-ups can handle themself.”

[Name] winks at On and both of them giggle as they walk.

Deep inside, On thinks she shouldn’t tell the rest of the kids about this privilege.

She feels like they would deliberately hurt themselves just to get a kiss.

+~+~+~+~+~+

[Name] was sick with a fever. They have been delirious and fading in and out of consciousness for 2 days now.

There’s not much they remember but they did retain the memory of a bunch of people kissing them.

Kiss!

“Get well soon.”

Rosalyn kissed the crown of their head as she wished them well.

Kiss!

“It’s hard seeing my sparring partner sick like this. Get better soon so we can spar.”

Choi Han kissed their hand with a promise of spar.

Kiss!

“I know you said it’s exclusive for children but maybe it’ll work on you too.”

On pats their head as she kissed their forehead.

Kiss!

“Get well soon [Name]! Because you're sick I’ll read you a bedtime story instead!”

Raon kissed their cheek before he started reading a children’s storybook.

…[name] genuinely doesn’t know anymore if their red face is from their fever or their kisses.

[sunsbaby]

𐚁

more about gun .ᐟ reader

℧ . gun .ᐟ reader : when she became human, obviously she had no name. for the longest time sam and dean just called her colt, which she felt was rude because she was not the colt, she was the Colt M1911A1: deans prized gun—so, she yelled at them to call her cali (short for caliber).

℧ . gun .ᐟ reader : cali came with bracelets adorning her wrists and handprints littering her inner thighs from how much dean had used her. deans favorite thing was to trace along them as he drove, or grabbing her wrist and admiring his name that was permanently stuck there—showing everyone she was his. she'd find herself subconsciously tracing along them as well: whenever she was nervous, scared, or just zoned out.

℧ . gun .ᐟ reader : there was one time dean had attempted to get cali to wear shoes other then boots and she threw a fit—literally.

"dean, i am not wearing those ugly things! get them away from me!" cali shouted, her hands swatting at dean. her voice boomed throughout the store; she had no social awareness at all. she used to be a gun for gods sake! those things were made to be loud and proud. safe to say dean lost that battle.

℧ . gun .ᐟ reader : the first time dean took cali to one of his favorite diners she was absolutely disgusted by his eating habits, she physically repulsed when he tried to touch her with his greasy fingers; just like he used to when she was a gun. but now as a human she could move away from his touch whenever she wanted—he traumatized her. because of this, she is not fond of greasy food, instead she eats similar to sam. she does enjoy a burger once in a while, never how dean eats his though.

"you disgust me, dean." cali scowled as she plopped a fry into her mouth and took a sip of her coke. she may not drink the healthiest drinks, but at least she wasn't going to die early—not that she could—of a heart attack. dean just gave her a smile and attempted to touch her leg with his finger, annoying her further.

℧ . gun .ᐟ reader : dean took cali to a shooting range once, he didn't know if she really knew how to shoot a gun even if she used to be one. the men around just snickered and made the assumption that she didn't know jack about guns. seeing as she was just a pretty little thing dressed in boots and a white flowy dress—something dean had gotten her as a present that she really ended up liking. so, she did what any girl would do, she showed them why they shouldn't underestimate someone just by their gender. she muttered little 'pew pews' under her breath as she hit every shot dead on. even going as far as pretending to blow away the smoke like they did in old western movies; ones that she remembered dean watching.

℧ . gun .ᐟ reader : cali always has her hand in deans back pocket or somewhere on his jeans due to the fact that when she was a gun she'd always been tucked into the waistband of his jean/pants. at first dean was a bit weirded out by it, but when she gave him the puppy-eyes he couldn't tell her no. however, any man/woman that had ever held her before—sam, or another hunter dean let borrow her—she tried to do the same to.

sunny yaps! THANK YOU FOR THE IDEAS @bluemerakis @abox-of-rocks @h8aaz I HAD TO WRITE FOR THEM IMMEDIATELY WHEN I GOT HOME!! I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE GUN!READER AND PLEASE KEEP GIVING ME IDEAS.

special tags! @dulcescorderitas @titsout4jackles @daylighted @figthoughts

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 ® 𓂃 do not repost or copy my works without permission!!

[dancinglikebutterflywings]

ATEEZ Relationship Stages | Kim Hongjoong

Pairing: Kim Hongjoong x Reader (You

Synopsis: When you first meet, First date, First kiss, First 'I love you.', Getting engaged, Wedding, Children.

Warnings: None. I used Ha-Joon who is from a Hongjoong fic I wrote and will repost eventually. Let me know if you want more and I'll continue with the others.

Word Count: 2,011

Tag List: Open - link to form on masterlist post.

ATEEZ Masterlist | Tag List Sign-Up | Requesting Guidelines

Hongjoong | Seonghwa | Yunho | Yeosang | San | Mingi | Wooyoung | Jongho

WHEN YOU FIRST MET

You first met Hongjoong at a photography exhibition. His photography exhibition. You don’t know much about photography, but you enjoyed looking at it.  

You’d been staring at one of the photos for at least five minutes when Hongjoong saw you. The person who was talking to him became background noise as he watched you tilt your head as if you were trying to look at the photo from another angle. He looked around, seeing you weren’t with anyone, or more hoping that you weren’t.  

His attention is drawn away from you when he hears the person next to him say his name and look at him questioningly. He apologizes and goes back to the conversation they were just having but he can’t help stealing glances at you. 

One of the times he glances towards you he’s noticed you’ve disappeared. He searches the room and finds you staring at a photo further away. He doesn’t know what came over him, but he finds himself politely excusing himself from the conversation he’s in and makes his way towards you. 

He stands next to you, unsure of what to say.  

“Whoever took these photos, has a really good eye,” You say, quickly glancing at him before looking back at the photo, leaving him a little stunned but he quickly composes himself. 

“You think so?” he asks. 

You nod your head. “This one is my favourite.”  

Hongjoong notices it’s a photo that barely made the cut. He’d been unsure if he should put this one in exhibition or not but now, he’s glad he did. 

“I can get you a copy,” he says without thinking. 

Your head whips to the side to look at him, surprised. “Do you know the photographer?” 

“Kim Hongjoong,” he smiles, bowing to you slightly.  

You bow back to him, looking even more surprised and introduce yourself. 

The rest of the night, everyone else was forgotten about as you sat on one of the benches inside the gallery as Hongjoong answered every question you asked him. When the gallery, closed, you exchanged numbers so he could get you a copy of the photograph you liked so much. 

FIRST DATE

After a few weeks of talking through calls and texts, Hongjoong finally asked you on a date. He'd called you with every intention of asking you out but at first his nerves got the best of him and instead you talked about your days. It was when you were about to hand up that he blurted out asking you to dinner the following night, as a date. You accepted without any hesitation. You had almost asked him out to dinner yourself, unsure if you could wait any longer for him to ask you. 

For your first date he took you out to dinner at a nice restaurant, then you went for a walk around the park that was close by. You learnt even more about each other and by the end of the night, you knew that you could never like Hongjoong as just a friend. There was something there between you and it felt very real and very right. 

FIRST KISS

It wasn’t a surprise that your first kiss, was in the privacy of the studio Hongjoong creates his music in. You were on your fifth date, a month after your fist date. 

Knowing Hongjoong isn’t big on showing and receiving any form of skinship, you were okay with being patient and waiting for him to feel more comfortable with you. You were happy holding his hand and having his arm around you, holding you against his side as a little subtle way of letting everyone know you are his. 

You were on your fifth date, a month after your fist date. He’d been so caught up in working on songs for their next album, that he’d forgotten about the date. When you called him, he couldn’t have been more apologetic and suggested you come to the studio. You arrived 20 minutes later, with food and made sure he ate. An hour went by when he pulled you from the couch and on to his lap.  

“I promise I’ll never forget another date again,” he sighs. You could still see the guilt in his eyes. 

“It’s okay, Hongjoong,” you tried to assure him. “I know how busy you’ve been lately. Honestly, seeing you working and doing what you love, has given me a further glimpse into who you are. You continue to impress and inspire me, Kim Hongjoong.” 

He smiles, his cheeks reddening slightly but instead of saying anything, he cups the back of your neck and pulls you in for a sweet soft kiss that held more meaning than any words he could have said in that moment.  

That was the moment you knew you were falling hard and fast for Kim Hongjoong. 

FIRST ‘I LOVE YOU.’ 

You and Hongjoong have been together for seven months when the first ‘I love you’ was spoken aloud. For the last month the both of you had been having an internal struggle with it. You were waiting for him to say it first but when he wasn’t you were wondering if you should just say it. A plan was forming in your head but that all changed when you heard those three little words leave Hongjoong’s lips. 

He’d met with you at the park between both your workplaces for lunch. He’d brought his camera in case inspiration caught his eye. And it certainly did. Seeing you in the sundress he’d bought you because he pictured you in it the moment he saw it, your hair down, bare faced and beautiful. You were sitting on the picnic blanket you brought, leaning back on your arms, face to the sky and eyes closed as you soaked in the warm sun.  

Hearing the shutter of his camera, you opened your eyes and looked at him with an eyebrow raised. 

He smiles, leans forward and places a light kiss to your lips. “I love you,” he says as he pulls back. 

Your smile grows as you move to sit on his lap, cupping his face. “I love you too,” you reply before kissing him again. 

ENGAGEMENT

Hongjoong had another exhibition at the same gallery that the two of you met in almost two years earlier. The night before opening night, Hongjoong brought you to the gallery, wanting to give you a private tour. This exhibition had been so secretive that you hadn’t seen a single photo yourself. You were usually the first person he would show. 

He took you around, showing you all the photos until he got to the last one. It was a photo you recognised. It hung on the wall in the spare room that was being used as a makeshift studio for him in your shared apartment. It was the photo he took of you in the park, when he first told you he loves you. Surrounding that photo was smaller photos of the two of you together throughout your relationship. All of them photos his members had taken, some you’ve seen and some you’ve never seen before. 

“This part the public doesn’t get to see. It’s not part of the exhibition,” he mentions, looking from the photo wall to you. 

You look at him confused, “then why’s it-” 

Your cut off as Hongjoong pulls a square box from his pocket and drops down to one knee. Your eyes widen with surprise as your hands cover your now gaping mouth. You can stop the tears from forming in your eyes. 

“I’m so glad I asked you for your number almost two years later, because now, I couldn’t imagine my life without you in it. You’re my soulmate and if you’ll have me, I want to spend the rest of my life loving and caring for you as your husband. Will you marry me?” 

You nod your head as you struggle with the lump that’s formed in your throat. He takes the ring out of the box and slips it on your finger as he stands up, wrapping his arms around you before planting his lips to yours in a passionate kiss. 

It wasn’t until you hear Wooyoung’s loud cheering, you realize you're not alone. Of course, the boys were there to help you celebrate your engagement. You wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. 

WEDDING

Your wedding day had been perfect despite all the hiccups you and Hongjoong went through to plan it. Working around his schedule had been slightly more difficult than both of you anticipated. You were both seriously considering eloping and planning the wedding when he went on break. But as soon as an elopement was mentioned, him and the guys ended up with a few days break in between schedules. The wedding was quickly scheduled on one of those days which just so happened to give them three weeks to get everything together. They managed to find a venue. Both their parents and siblings helped where they could. Even the other boys’ families and KQ Entertainment helped the best they could.  

You’d already had your dress sorted. It had been your mother’s wedding dress that you had fond memories of dressing up in as a child. When you asked your mother if you could wear it for your and Hongjoong’s big day, she burst into tears, and got it out for you. It needed some altering, but your mum had a friend who had no issue doing it for you. Hongjoong’s reformed his suit from one of the many suits he had in his closet. He’d sewed some of the scraps from the wedding dress alteration into the suit and made you your something blue out of fabric he’d taken from his suit coat. 

The music had been left up to Hongjoong since it was his expertise and had the connections. He’d hired an acquaintance to DJ the wedding but had also surprised you (with his members) with a live performance of some of your favourite ATEEZ songs. 

The only thing that couldn’t be planned was the honeymoon, which had to wait until they were on a break. Instead, you found the closest tattoo place and got matching tattoos that included the date of your wedding. 

Overall, your wedding day had been everything you dreamed of and so much more. The day after you’d gotten matching tattoos that included the date of your wedding. 

CHILDREN: 

You and Hongjoong originally agreed to wait a year and a half to two years before having children. You wanted to let yourself settle into married life and with your schedules, you were way too busy to consider having a child. So, it was a surprised when you fell pregnant 7 months after you were married. Even though little Ha-Joon was unexpected, and you and Hongjoong were terrified, you were also happy and excited. You both embraced parenthood and made sure your little girl had everything she could want and need. And it wasn’t just her parents she has wrapped around her little fingers. Her uncles, aunts, her grandparents, the managers, make-up artists, the production team, everyone is smitten with her, especially the members. You couldn’t take her to the company building without one of them stealing her the moment you walk into the building.  

Now she’s three and everything is pretty much the same, except that she’s growing way too fast for your and Hongjoong’s liking. You’re also now pregnant with a boy, this one planned. Ha-Joon being three, you both talked about it and agreed it was a perfect time to have another baby. You had your sister to thank for that conversation. She just had her own baby 6 months ago and you’d come down bad with baby fever. Hongjoong had to admit he may have caught a little baby fever as he saw how loving and gentle Ha-Joon is with her baby cousin. He couldn’t say no to you when you came asking for another baby. He would give you as many babies as you wanted. 

Likes, Comments & Reblogs are welcomed and appreciated. 

©️ 2024 WOOJOONGSTREASURE. NO ONE HAS PERMISSION TO COPY, TRANSLATE AND/OR POST MY FICS ON HERE OR ANY OTHER SITE.

TAGGED: @staytiny2000 - @dancelikebutterflywings - @kpopmenace143 - @treehouse-mouse - @alexxavicry - @jedi-dreea - @rainydayteacups

[writingforstraykids]

Always back to you - Chp.3🖤

Pairing: Minho x m!Reader (mention of OT8)

Word Count: 4332

Summary: Minho and you slowly find your way back together once he's released from the hospital. Minjun's birthday party brings you both closer than ever before ...

Warnings/Tags: fluff, single dad!min, angst, domestic shit

A/N: Thank you for all the love for the first part especially🤭 I'll have a very busy day tomorrow, so you'll get the next part today already instead🤭🖤

PART TWO | PART FOUR

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

You immediately take up the responsibility of caring for Minjun, ensuring that Minho has no worries as he recovers. You bring Minjun to your home and transform it into a safe haven for the little boy who is confused and missing his dad.

You set up a schedule that balances fun activities and quiet time, keeping Minjun engaged and content. Mornings are spent in the garden, where you teach him how to plant seeds and water flowers, explaining the nature of growth and the care plants need to thrive—a subtle lesson you hope he translates into understanding his father’s situation.

Minjun enthusiastically takes to gardening, his curious nature soaking up every detail you offer. He frequently asks questions, his large eyes wide with wonder as he watches little bugs crawling around and you tell him more about them. “Does Daddy need water and sun to get better, too?” he asks one day, his innocence tugging at your heartstrings.

You chuckle softly, ruffling his hair. “Something like that, buddy. Your dad needs rest and a little bit of sunshine to regain his strength.”

During these days, Minjun often speaks of his father, his young mind trying to wrap around why his dad had to stay in the hospital. You assure him that his dad is getting stronger every day, and soon, they’ll be back to playing in the park and reading bedtime stories.

In the afternoons, you work on light educational activities like drawing and reading. Minjun loves to draw; his papers are filled with pictures of his garden and the plants and lots of drawings of him and his dad together, often with a big sun shining overhead. You send these drawings to Minho, who calls every evening to say goodnight, his voice always a mix of gratitude and wistfulness.

Each call becomes a little bridge, reconnecting the threads of the small family. Minho’s voice grows stronger each day, and his words begin to carry hope instead of just fatigue. He shares updates about his recovery, about the small victories of a full night’s sleep or a walk around the hospital ward without feeling dizzy.

One evening, as you and Minjun are setting up a board game in the living room, your phone buzzes. It’s Minho, and he’s calling a bit earlier than usual.

“Y/n, hey. I… I’m coming home tomorrow,” Minho’s voice is tentative, almost shy.

“That’s great news, Minho! Minjun will be so happy,” you respond, watching Minjun’s face light up at the mention of his dad.

“Can we… can I come over when I get back? I want to see Minjun, and I… I owe you a proper thank you,” Minho adds, his tone earnest.

“That's okay,” you assure him, feeling a complex knot of emotions at his return but happy for Minjun’s sake.

The next day is bright and sunny, and Minjun is practically vibrating with excitement. “Is Daddy coming now? Or now?” he asks every few minutes, peering out the window.

“Soon, little bug. Let’s go to the garden. We can show him how much everything has grown since he’s been gone,” you suggest, leading him outside.

You're both kneeling in the garden, Minjun excitedly pointing out each new sprout and blossom, when you hear the gate click. Looking up, you see Minho, thinner and a bit pale but smiling as he watches his son.

“Daddy!” Minjun screams, sprinting towards him with a speed that surprises both of you. Minho drops to his knees just in time to catch him, embracing him tightly. His eyes close as he buries his face in Minjun’s soft curls. 

“I missed you so much, buddy,” Minho murmurs, his voice thick with emotion.

“Missed you more,” Minjun replies, his small hands cupping his face as he kisses his nose. 

You walk over slowly, giving them a moment, before Minho looks up at you, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “Y/nnie, thank you,” he says, standing up to face you. “It means a lot.”

“There’s no need to thank me, Minho. I’m just glad you’re okay,” you reply, your voice gentle.

“No, I need to say this,” Minho insists, taking a deep breath. “I was wrong, and I’m sorry for how I treated you. You’ve been nothing but kind, and I took that for granted. I hope I can make it up to both of you somehow.”

“One step after the other. For now, you should rest; we can talk properly later,” you suggest, offering a smile that Minho returns gratefully.

Minho reaches into his pocket, and you can hear him pulling out his keys. He stretches out his hand almost timidly, offering you your spare keys to his home. “You're always welcome. If not for me, then for him, please. I don't want him to suffer just because I fucked up.”

You hesitantly take them, able to tell he's trying to fix things. “I…I'll think about it. I need time, Min.”

“That's okay,” he assures you. “Your replacement is shit, by the way,” he says with a weak grin. 

You chuckle softly. “No, that's you being used to someone handling things for you more than for the others,” you remind him. You inhale deeply and awkwardly rub your neck. “I'll also think about that, okay?” 

“Okay,” he nods, unable to hide the hope in his orbs at the mere chance of you coming back. “I'm sorry.”

“I know,” you assure him. “Me too…Now, go rest, please. Call if you need something.”

“Bye, Y/nnie,” Minjun says, hugging you tightly as you get down on his level. “Love you.”

You swallow softly, a similar surprise lacing both Minho's and your features. “I love you too, buddy,” you answer honestly and squeeze him gently. “Now go home with your daddy, yeah?”

-

The quiet of the morning was filled only by the faint sounds of the city waking up beyond the walls of the small, cozy room where Minho found himself slowly coming to consciousness. As his senses sharpened, the first thing he became aware of was the warm, small body pressed against his side. Gently turning his head, he sees Minjun, his little baby, sleeping peacefully next to him, his chest rising and falling in the steady rhythm of deep sleep. The sight fills Minho with an overwhelming sense of gratitude and love.

Carefully so as not to wake him, Minho wraps his arms around Minjun, pulling him close. The boy, still deep in his dreams, instinctively snuggles closer into his father's embrace. Even in sleep, Minjun seems to sense his father's need for closeness and comforts him with his mere presence.

Minho’s eyes trace the soft, youthful features of his son's face, noting the faint freckles that dust his nose and the gentle curl of his lips. Memories flood through Minho’s mind—the first time he held Minjun, the first steps he took, the first words he spoke.

Recovering from his incident, Minho was forced to confront his own vulnerabilities and the stark realization of how much he relied on the presence of his son. These mornings, waking up next to Minjun, were sacred. They were not just moments of physical rest but crucial for his emotional recovery as well. 

Minjun shifts in his sleep, a small sigh escaping him. His small hand grips Minho's shirt tightly as if, even in his dreams, he is determined to hold on. Minho’s heart aches with an overwhelming mix of joy and sorrow—joy for his son's presence and health and sorrow for the times he hadn’t been there as fully as he wanted.

“Daddy loves you, Minjun,” Minho whispers into his son's dark curls, his voice barely audible. A tear escapes the corner of his eye as he tightens his embrace, grateful beyond words for his return to health and the second chance it represented.

The sun begins to cast its first rays into the room, streaks of light that paint the walls with the colors of dawn. The light seems to coax the city to life gently, and as it does, it also seems to awaken Minjun. The little boy yawns and blinks open his eyes, surprised for a moment to find himself so close to his father.

“Daddy?” Minjun’s voice is sleepy and confused but also filled with an affection that comes from deep within.

“Good morning, buddy,” Minho says, his voice still thick with emotion. “Did you sleep well?”

Minjun nods, rubbing his eyes with the backs of his hands. “Yes.”

Minho smiles. “That sounds good. Maybe we can go to the park later?”

“Yeah!” Minjun’s face lights up with excitement. “And I can be a hero!”

Minho laughs, the sound rich and full of genuine happiness. “Of course, my little superhero. But first, how about we make some pancakes for breakfast?”

Minjun’s agreement is instantaneous and enthusiastic. As they get up and make their way to the kitchen, Minho keeps his son close, his hand resting lightly on Minjun’s shoulder. Making breakfast together was a simple activity, yet it held so much meaning for Minho, just being home again. 

As Minho watches Minjun clumsily crack eggs and stir batter, he is filled with gratitude for his young son's resilience. He had managed to stay strong and loving throughout the difficulties they had faced.

“Daddy?” Minjun looks up at him, a slight frown on his face. “Are you okay? You look sad.”

Minho is taken aback, realizing that his emotional reflections must have shown on his face. He kneels down, bringing himself to eye level with Minjun, and smiles.

“I’m more than okay; I’m happy,” he assures his son, his hand gently cupping the boy’s cheek. “I’m just very thankful for you, Minjun. You’re my little hero, did you know that?”

Minjun giggles, the sound like music to Minho’s ears. “I’m your hero?”

“Yes, you are,” Minho assures him, hugging him tightly. “My biggest hero.”

Minjun hugs him back, his small arms strong and sure. “It’s okay, Daddy. I take care of you.”

The words, so earnest and sincere from such a young soul, fill Minho with an even deeper appreciation for his son and his eyes with tears. He realizes that while he was often the one taking care of Minjun, his son was also taking care of him in many ways, providing love, motivation, and a reason to recover fully and well.

One week later 

For Minjun's birthday, Minho decided on a cozy movie night—a welcome change from the usual buzz of birthday parties and perfectly suited for their small circle. The boys all love a good movie night, find children's movies hilarious, and, most importantly, they all love Minjun like their own. 

As the sun dips below the horizon, casting a soft glow through the windows, they arrive one by one.

Chan and Felix arrive last with a special surprise for the birthday boy. “Jiho, mate, we brought someone with us,” Felix leans down to him conspiratorially. 

“Who?” he asks curiously, eyes growing wide. Chan steps aside and gently pulls you out of hiding. Minjun squeaks in delight, looking up at Minho excitedly. “Daddy, it's Y/nnie!” he says, jumping in place impatiently. 

Minho giggles and gently brushes back his curls. “Well, go say hi, dumpling.”

Minjun doesn't need a second invitation to fall into your arms. “Hey, little bug,” you say quietly. “Happy birthday.”

“Thank you,” he beams happily before moving on to greet the next guest. “Uncle Channie, up!” he says, reaching out for him. 

Chan smirks, lifts him up and throws him into the air above his head a little, catching him safely again. Minho flinches heavily, reaching for Minjun in shock. Felix laughs at him, gently patting his back. “Channie, babe, don't give him a heart attack.” 

Chan laughs, putting a giggling Minjun back on his feet. “Sorry, Min,” he chuckles, and Minho snorts. 

“Alright, come on in, you know the way,” Minho laughs.

The living room was transformed into a fortress of comfort. Pillows and blankets were strewn across the floor, creating a plush sea of soft fabrics that invited everyone to kick off their shoes and sink in. The air was rich with the aroma of popcorn and sweet treats that lined the table alongside a stack of Minjun’s favorite animated movies.

Minho watches as Felix and Jeongin set up the projector, their antics punctuated by light-hearted banter that fills the room with laughter. Hyunjin and Seungmin are tasked with stringing fairy lights around the room, adding a magical ambiance that makes the space feel like a small cinema hall. Jisung and Changbin, meanwhile, busy themselves in the kitchen, popping more popcorn and arranging a variety of snacks on platters. Minho watches his family with a smile, each member contributing to the evening’s success, weaving their love for Minjun into every detail.

The movie starts, the lights dimmed to mimic a theater, and the first frames flicker across the makeshift screen. Minjun sits between Minho and you, a perfect sandwich of his favorite people, his face lit by the soft glow of the projector as he watches with wide-eyed wonder.

Throughout the evening, the adults' eyes often meet over Minjun's head, shared smiles of affection and slight amusement at his captivated reactions to the on-screen adventures. During a particularly exciting scene, Minjun would sometimes stand, pointing at the screen and explaining to you loudly the many details of the plot as he understood them.

"The hero's gonna save everyone. He's strong like daddy!" Minjun's voice is full of pride and excitement, making everyone chuckle, especially Minho, whose heart swells with love and a bit of awe at his son's interpretation.

The room is filled with the sounds of the movie, mixed with Minjun's occasional commentary and the boys' gentle laughs.

Halfway through the second movie, Minjun’s eyelids begin to droop, and he leans more heavily against you, his small hand gripping yours as he fights the pull of sleep. You look down at him, a soft smile playing on your lips, touched by the trust and affection Minjun shows you.

Minho notices this gentle exchange, and his heart is filled with gratitude for your presence in Minjun’s life, especially during the times when he couldn’t be there himself. He makes a mental note to himself to ensure you know how much your support meant to him, perhaps later when the movies are done and the excitement of the day has settled into the quiet of the night.

As the evening winds down and the credits roll on the last movie, Minho gently nudges Minjun awake to blow out the candles on his small birthday cake. With a sleepy grin, Minjun makes a wish and blows with all his might, the room erupting into applause.

"Happy birthday, Minjun!" everyone cheers, making him giggle happily and hide in Minho’s arms shyly. 

Minho soothingly kisses his hair and cuddles him close. Your heart warms seeing them, and glancing around the room, you can tell how much Minho and his little boy mean to everyone. Minho looks almost as tired as Minjun, but both are beaming with happiness. The boys fall back into their usual chatter, and you more or less subtly watch Minho next to you with Minjun still in his arms. They're having a quiet conversation, Minjun resting his head against Minho's and holding onto his hands. You feel the old, familiar warmth spreading through you as you watch them. Getting into that fight with Minho had made you feel awful. You missed your time with Minjun and you realized how used you've grown to Minho's presence in your life. 

Minho's eyes find yours, and your breath hitches at the softness of his orbs. “Minjun's asking if you could read him a bedtime story?”

“Oh, of course,” you nod. 

“The bedroom’s upstairs, second door on the left. You can get comfortable there; he loves cuddling in bed before,” he assures you kindly and watches you leave with Minjun. 

Chan nudges him gently. “You two are alright again?”

“We're working on it,” he tells him, and Chan hums agreeingly. 

“We should wrap it up,” Chan chuckles, and Minho hums agreeingly. 

“Yongbokie and you can have the guestroom upstairs. You'd get home way too late,” he tells him. Chan and Felix live the furthest away, after all. “Jisung and Hyunjin can have the sofa,” he laughs, seeing them already deep asleep there. 

Seungmin, listening in, pouts softly. “I'm tired, I don't want to leave.”

Minho glances at him and Innie, resting their heads on Changbin’s shoulders. “I can only offer you to sleep here with all the pillows and stuff.”

“Sounds great,” Jeongin mumbles drowsily. 

“Mhm, then that's settled,” Chan chuckles, soothingly rubbing Felix's shoulder as the younger one slowly grows heavy against him. “Should we clean up tomorrow then?” 

“Yeah, I'll do it once everyone's gone,” Minho laughs. 

“Lix and I can help,” he assures him, earning a thankful smile. 

About ten minutes later, once Minho made sure everyone had what they needed he made his way to his own bedroom, Chan next to him. “I forgot Lix gets cold easily,” he chuckles and carefully pushes the door open. He stops in his tracks, seeing you comfortably sprawled out on his bed, Minjun on your chest, and a book loosely in your hand. You're both asleep, looking peaceful and content. “Shit, I forgot about Y/nnie,” he curses quietly. 

“You can't really move him anywhere else, look at Minjun,” Chan giggles. 

“And where am I supposed to sleep?” he asks quietly, grabbing a fluffy blanket for Chan and Felix. 

“There's plenty of room next to them,” he says. 

“Chan. I can't just get into bed with my assistant,” he argues. 

“Your so-called assistant is hugging your son and asleep in your bed. I think you're way past that, mate,” he laughs. “It's your bed; just keep your distance or whatever.” Minho anxiously chews on his lower lip, debating a hundred different possibilities in his head. “Or you join me and Lix?”

“No, you two touchy fuckers can have that bed for your own,” he giggles, shoving his chest. “Not interested in a threesome right now.”

“Right now?” Chan teases, and Minho playfully raises his fist at him. “What about-”

“Go sleep, you're talking nonsense,” he laughs and gently shoves him outside. “Idiot.”

Chan giggles and gently shoves him back inside. “I'll hit you if you don't sleep in your own bed tonight. You still need rest, idiot.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he groans. 

Minho stares down at the scene before him, the weight of Chan's words sinking in. He watches you and Minjun, both deep in the tranquil sleep of the innocent and the cared-for, their faces peaceful and free from the burdens that Minho carried on his shoulders.

Gathering all his bravery, Minho slowly approaches the bed, his movements hesitant but deliberate. As he reaches the edge, he pauses, taking a moment to truly look at you—someone who has become so much more than just an assistant. You have been his support system, his son's caregiver, and his unintentional savior in times of unspoken despair. How could he continue to maintain a mere professional boundary when everything about your relationship had transcended those limits?

Minho carefully settles on the far edge of the bed, maintaining a respectful distance. He lies on his back, staring up at the ceiling, his mind racing with thoughts and emotions. The soft sounds of Minjun's and your breathing soothe his nerves. 

The room is silent, save for the soft ticking of the clock and the distant sounds of the city. Minho turns his head slightly, watching Minjun snuggle closer to you in his sleep. The sight is both beautiful and a stark reminder of the intimate moments he had missed during his recovery.

After a few moments, you shift in your sleep, perhaps sensing the added presence or the slight dip in the mattress as Minho lay down. Your eyes flutter open, and in the dim light, your gaze meets Minho’s. 

“Sorry,” you murmur, your voice sleepy yet filled with warmth. “I can leave.”

“Don't,” Minho says quickly and swallows hard. “He's comfortable here with you; there's no need to leave.”

“You're sure?” you ask, and he hums in response. “Well, you should get comfortable as well. There's no need to hover over the edge of the bed.”

Those words, softly spoken, are like a key turning in a lock for Minho. They break through his last hesitations, sweeping away the remnants of his doubts. He shifts closer, reducing the distance between him and you, and allows himself to relax fully. You turn on your side to face him, your eyes locking with his in the dim light.

“I’m sorry,” Minho whispers, the words thick with emotions. “For everything.”

Your hand finds his under the blankets, giving it a gentle squeeze. “We’re past apologies, Minho. I fucked up because I took him without telling you. I didn't think and expected you to trust me; that wasn't fair. You overreacted…which is kind of understandable. I'm sorry for my part in this, and you're sorry for yours. We're okay.”

Minho feels a warmth spread through his chest. He nods, accepting your forgiveness, and turns his attention to Minjun, who murmurs something inaudible in his sleep and snuggles closer to both of you.

-

The early morning rays begin to seep through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. Your eyes slowly flutter open as they meet your face. Stretching your tired body, you slowly realize that Minjun is gone already…and that Minho has gotten a lot closer overnight. You glance down and see his arm wrapped around your waist, keeping you close to himself. His head is buried in your neck; you can feel his breath dancing across your skin. His hair feels soft against your skin and you wonder how it'd feel if you sank your hand into it. 

You freeze, unsure of what to do next. The warmth of his breath against your skin sends a mix of comfort and alarm coursing through you. This is Minho, you remind yourself, technically, he's still my boss. Yet, the intimacy of this accidental cuddling was something entirely new, a boundary neither of you had crossed before.

Minho stirs, his movements slow and sluggish as he approaches the edge of consciousness. You hold your breath, waiting for his reaction when he realizes the closeness you both shared through the night. His eyes open gently, adjusting to the soft morning light, and then widen slightly as he takes in the position you both are in.

There's a moment of silent understanding, a mutual acknowledgment of the unintentional closeness. Minho’s eyes flicker with a mix of surprise and something softer, a vulnerability you've seen only in fleeting moments. He pulls back slightly, his hand retreating from where it had found a place around your waist.

“I-I’m sorry,” Minho mutters, his voice a low rasp tinged with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to-.”

“It’s okay,” you interject quickly, your voice soft, attempting to brush off the awkwardness. “We were both asleep. Things happen.”

Minho nods, his cheeks tinged with a blush that he can't hide. He sits up, rubbing the back of his neck—anxious gestures that you’ve come to recognize as his way of coping with discomfort. 

Silence fills the room for a few heartbeats. Both of you glance away, then back at each other, unsure of how to navigate this new, uncharted territory in your relationship. Finally, Minho clears his throat, his eyes meeting yours with an earnestness that makes your heart skip a beat.

“I didn’t intend for that to happen,” he says, his voice steady but soft. “But I can’t say I regret waking up next to someone who means so much to Minjun… and to me.”

Your breath hitches slightly at his words, a warm flush spreading across your cheeks. “Minho, I-”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Minho interrupts gently. “I just want you to know that I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for us. For being here, for taking care of Minjun when I couldn’t, for being more than just an assistant, more than just a friend.”

The weight of his gratitude sits between you, heavy and warm. You nod, unsure of how to articulate the jumble of feelings his proximity and his words have stirred in you. 

“Thank you for trusting me, Minho,” you manage to say. 

Minho smiles a genuine smile that reaches his eyes, easing some of the tension. He glances at the clock, then back at you. “I guess we should get up. I promised Minjun pancakes, and I suspect he’ll be storming in soon if we don’t start cooking.”

You laugh, the sound light and freeing, breaking the last remnants of awkwardness. “Pancakes it is,” you agree, getting out of bed. You adjust your clothes, still feeling the warmth of where Minho’s arm was wrapped around you.

As you both head to the kitchen, the normalcy of the routine helps mend the morning’s awkward start. Minjun greets you both with a bright smile, oblivious to the tension from earlier, comfortably on Changbin’s lap. “Uncle Changnin is fun,” he announces, making everyone giggle at his slight mispronunciation. 

“Mhm, of course, I am,” Changbin smirks, shooting the others a glare. “Uncle Changnin is fun..unlike some others here.”

Minho laughs, rolling his eyes at him. “Who wants breakfast?”

Throughout the morning, there are shared glances and shy smiles between you and Minho, a silent acknowledgment of a bond that had deepened in the most unexpected way. As you watch Minho flip pancakes, his laughter mingling with Minjun’s excited chatter, you feel a contentment settle over you. This, you realize, is more than just a job; more than just a responsibility-it’s a part of your life that you cherish deeply.

Later, as you sit together eating the slightly deformed pancakes that Minjun insists are perfect, you catch Minho’s eye, and he gives you a small, grateful smile. You'd be okay. 

PART TWO | PART FOUR

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[thehusbandoden]

"Imoto" -Inlove!Bakugo Katsuki x Oblivious!Reader

A/n: hope this doesn't suck lol, I was exhausted while writing this.

General info:

Genre: pure angst (with an alt ending) \\ wc: 400+ \\ female reader \\ posted: 04/08/24

Summary:

Bakugo, your best friend, helps you score the boy you've been crushing on.. little do you know that he's tearing his heart apart in the process.

Tags: @lemon-lav

Warnings!: pure angst, unreciprocated love, jealousy, anger, hatred, Bakugo loves reader, reader is unaware, reader loves Izuku, reader thinks of Bakugo as an older brother, Bakugo stays quiet and pretends. Idk what else, pls let me know if I miss any. <33

Onii-san: older brother; imoto: little sister

Alt. Ending

“Are you sure this is going to work?” You whisper nervously, staring at the green-haired boy in the next room. He was talking to Shoto, smiling shyly as he rambled about some new pro hero.  

“Of course it will, now go.” Bakugo grunted, gently pushing you forward. You glance back at him hesitantly. He gives you a small smile, giving you the courage to proceed. You take a deep breath before walking into the next room.  

You feel Bakugo’s crimson eyes boring into your back as you walk over to your childhood crush, Midoriya Izuku. Shoto’s mismatched eyes see your approaching form, opening his mouth to speak, he’s pulled away by Mina before he can say anything, too oblivious to realize what’s happening.  

Izuku turns around to see you walking over, his emerald eyes lighting up at the sight as a rosy blush invades his cheeks. “O-oh y/n san!”  

~~ 

Bakugo’s pov:  

Bakguo scoffed as he watched the two of you converse, jealousy burning in his chest as he watched you flush from Deku’s honey-covered, idiotic, and pointless words. Bakugo couldn’t help but feel a burning sense of hatred, jealousy, and hurt as he watched you succeed, knowing he lost his chance.  

He wanted to kick and scream, to throw a fit that he had lost the one that had meant the world to him, he wanted to show you how better he was- how much he cared. He wanted to go over there and show you and that idiotic nerd how he would treat you like a queen- his queen.  

But he didn’t- couldn’t. Deku is what would make you happy. Deku is who you wanted- who you pined for. So, he stayed quiet, watching your eyes light up with joy as you hit it off with the boy he despised the most.  

A large smile on your face appears, and he knows he’s lost. After a few moments you start walking back to him, causing him to straighten his posture and put on a fake smile.

As you reach him, he reaches down to put a hand on your shoulder. “You got him?” 

You nodded in excitement, your eyes shining as you looked up at him. “He’s taking me out to dinner this weekend. Thank you so much, onii-san!”  

Your words tear apart his heart. Onii-san? You thought of him as an older brother..

“Don’t mention it, imoto..” He scoffed, ruffling your hair. He’ll just have to pretend. For you.

~~~~~

Alt. Ending

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