#silk rhodes

[thecrossonmyback]

feels like summer

[monologue-monolog]

#SILK RHODES

[super-into-on-it]

Jil Sander | FW 2022

shot by Chris Rhodes

[wttcsms]

if you feel like falling (catch me on the way down) | TWO

ᝰ.ᐟ after getting your heart broken by professional soccer player, rin itoshi, all because he loved the game more than you, you officially swear off all men — especially athletes. your publicist doesn’t get that memo, though, and you find yourself roped into a fake relationship with yoichi isagi, who isn’t just a pro soccer player, but also your ex’s rival. things could get messy. ( fem!reader )

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pairing yoichi isagi x reader (endgame), past! rin itoshi x reader word count 5.9k chapter synopsis the busier your schedule, the less time you can spend thinking about rin. the only problem is, you see something you can't unsee. nothing a bottle of tequila can't fix, right? (spoiler: tequila isn't fixing a broken heart) chapter contains partying and drinking to cope, diet culture author’s notes i have nothing to insightful to add rn, but send me any asks discussing this fic and i will have a lot to say LOL

From: fumiko.gima@apextalentgroup.com To: [USER EMAIL HIDDEN] Cc: wfitch@everlanefitch.com, mai.sasaki@apextalentgroup.com, hideakitakeda@titansecuritysolutions.com, benji1968@gmail.com + 3 others Subject: 6/19 — [NAME] [SURNAME] AGENDA Attachments: 📎 [6.19 AGENDA.pdf]

All — 

Attached is the PDF copy of [Name]’s itinerary for today. Reminder that these times are STRICT. Stay on schedule. 

Fumiko Gima

Get Outlook for IOS 

Your first alarm goes off at 4:50 AM to what you assume is the noise they play on repeat in hell (By the Seaside, an Apple classic). After waking up, you roll over in your king size bed (the problem with always choosing to go big instead of just going home is the fact that when you’re all alone, the luxury of extra space just becomes empty space) to promptly hit the snooze button. You’ll allow yourself five more minutes of sleep (as a treat). When the second alarm you set up goes off at 4:53 AM (By the Seaside, once again), you scream into your pillow, and shut it off for real this time. You knew you weren’t going to give yourself the full five minutes, but it felt really good to trick yourself into believing that you would. You always start the day with this tiny disappointment; that way, no one has the privilege of being the first person to piss you off. 

At 4:54 AM, you slide your feet into your Ugg slippers, readjust the loose straps of your silk camisole, and shuffle into your marble-floored bathroom. You rub the sleep from your eyes, brush your teeth with your pink electric toothbrush, and wash your face. By the time you’re done with your morning skincare, it’s 5:06 AM. You honestly can’t remember the last time you did your own makeup, but you bring your makeup bag with you anyway. If there’s downtime between shoots, you’ll post a faux-GRWM TikTok where you apply three miniscule dots of concealer on your seemingly already flawless skin and add a fresh layer of the brand new, limited edition Rhode peptide lip treatment that Hailey Bieber’s team gifted you. They also gave you twenty grand to do so, with a personal “hey girlie, would love to catch up with you one of these days!! life has been so hectic, sorry for not keeping in touch x btw, i just came out with a new shade of my…” text from Hailey herself. (You replied back with a “yessss, we need to meet up soon!! Also, LOVE LOVE LOVE the new shade omg 😍” — neither of you have any intention for planning a meet-up, and you don’t “LOVE LOVE LOVE” the new shade as much as you “LOVE LOVE LOVE” to deposit a fat check.) 

You’re sliding into the backseat of the glossy black SUV parked in front of your driveway at 5:14 AM. Your chauffeur, Benji, holds open the door for you. 

“Good morning, Ms. [Surname],” Benji never drops the formalities with you, except for when he’s lecturing you. Thank God he doesn’t own a smartphone; if he saw half the things Daily Mail wrote about you, his voice would be gone from scolding you so much. Even if he’s technically on your parents’ payroll and is paid to make sure you get to and from places safely, it still feels nice to have someone who cares about you enough to call you out on your shit. 

The first stop is an exclusive, members-only pilates studio. If you’re home, you have to work out in the morning, no matter what. You like your routine. Out of all the things online magazines put out about you, it’s kind of embarrassing how the most accurate one is revealing how you stay “fit ‘n flawless even after going out every night.” Most people didn’t believe it. Rin got it, though. Rin would actually work out with you, when the two of your schedules aligned, and— Time to start your workout early! Nothing takes your mind off of matters more than focusing on the burn of your core and arms. 

By the time you finish your private session, you’re walking out the studio with your puffy tote bag slung over your shoulders. Your body is still a bit damp from taking a quick shower but not drying off properly, and Benji drops you off at your first business stop of the day — ELLE Japan.

You smile brightly as the team of makeup artists surrounding you shower you with compliments. One of the girls brushing on your foundation tells you that you have really nice skin. When she goes in for a second layer, you almost consider rescinding the thanks you gave her.

The set is hectic, as expected. No matter how long these people have been in the industry, no matter how big the host is, something always seems to be going wrong. Apparently, there’s been a mishap over in wardrobe, and ELLE’s people are not very happy with how this is going to delay everything. With your hair and makeup done, there’s nothing for you to do besides sit down, be quiet, and look pretty. 

Downtime is the last thing you want. You’re used to a busy schedule, but you convinced Fumiko to accept as many projects as possible. If you have to rank at the top of the list for celebrities who emit the most CO2, then so be it. You’ll pollute the whole damn planet if it means you won’t have a single second to be alone with your thoughts. 

At 9:00 AM sharp, you go on your phone to inform your manager that the agenda is fucked. ELLE Japan is definitely going to push back this session with you for at least a good hour, which means Fumiko is going to have to explain to Your Style (the YouTube channel name for a famous fashion commentator who’s amassed nearly twenty million subscribers) why you’re going to be late for the Zoom debrief on what you two are going to talk about in an upcoming video. At 9:02 AM, you receive a text.

juli ᡣ𐭩: u know i love u 

It’s two in the morning in Paris. When Juliette said she was going to visit her father, she said it was going to be a much-needed vacation — just something chill and lowkey, like going to all the designer stores and eating croissants on a balcony. Those were her exact words. 

juli ᡣ𐭩: [photo attachment] 

Somehow, from the neon strobe lights, bodies pressed against one another’s, and the way the image is blurry because she couldn’t get her phone to focus, it feels like Juliette’s “something chill and lowkey” morphed into club-hopping all over France. You roll your eyes with affection. You should’ve known her vacation was going to turn into this; as if Juliette would eat bread for pleasure — she’s been quoted for claiming that carbs are a necessary evil. She probably hasn’t even touched a croissant for the past week she’s been there.

juli ᡣ𐭩: showing u before TMZ posts it juli ᡣ𐭩: [video attachment] juli ᡣ𐭩: do not freak out. not worth it. juli ᡣ𐭩: ugh i knew this club sucked ass for a reason 

You wait for the video to load. It’s almost as blurry and unfocused as the original image she sent, but you can tell she had to zoom in pretty hard to capture what she wanted. It’s two figures with a minimal amount of space between them. One of them is definitely a girl; she has the build of the usual French models. A thin, leggy brunette who has mastered the intricate art of Just Had Sex hair. Perfectly messy, but could never be considered sloppy. She’s wearing a sparkly, tight minidress. The fabric shimmers when the strobe lights pass by her body. The person she’s practically pressed up against is a man. Tall, lean. He’s leaning down, presumably so he can hear her better. When the video clip ends abruptly (someone bumped into Juliette, and the video ends with shaky footage and a loud “putain!”), you replay it. And replay it. And then you play it again, just for good measure.

Each time you watch the stupid video, you find something new to notice. Her red lips brushing against his ear. The way his hand hovers near her hip. The way you’re certain she’s smiling when she speaks, like the smirk of a victor. The exact same self-satisfied, smug grin you sport whenever you get a guy right where you want him. Upon every rewatch, though, one thing remains the same: you’re constantly fixated on him.

Right now, it’s two in the morning in Paris. You know that when you weren’t in this fucked up headspace you’re in right now, you’d be in bed, snuggled underneath your blankets, by 11:30 PM. You know that when you felt your best, you could be in bed, whispering in the dark to the person you felt safest with, at 10:00 PM (at the latest, because you both would have a busy day ahead and needed the rest). He likes sleeping early because he likes being well-rested. 

So why the hell is Rin Itoshi at a club right now?

At 9:39 AM, ELLE Japan gets right back on track. Before your editorial shoot for a special anniversary edition of the magazine, they get you to sit down to do a video interview that they plan on posting all over their social media. 

“This is a very special edition that will be coming out, and you are not only having the biggest spread dedicated to you, but you’re also going to be on the cover. Knowing this, how are you feeling right now, [Name]? This might be the most high-profile photoshoot you’ve done so far in your career, and that’s saying something. You have quite the impressive resume.” 

The ring lights are shining directly in your eye. The stool they have you sitting on for this interview is uncomfortable, and you have to focus on remaining balanced. Your back is perfectly straight, and your hands are folded in your lap. You blink, and you see the video playing in your mind. You have God knows how much makeup caked on right now, and you still have a long day ahead of you. Rin is at a club right now. Rin is at a club right now, with a girl. Rin is at a club right now, with a girl, and they’re basically grinding against each other, and he might just have forgotten all about you.

You smile brightly. At 9:40 AM in Japan, you let everyone know, 

“I honestly think I’m the happiest I’ve ever been before in my life! This is a great way to establish a sort of, I guess, new era of my life and my career.” 

You turn to face the camera directly, giving them a dazzling view of your pearly whites. “Not trying to rush the process or anything, but I am definitely looking forward to seeing how this will all play out in the future.” 

You’re operating on autopilot for the rest of the day. The ELLE shoot wraps up close to noon. You forgo lunch, but knowing you and your tendency to skip meals, Benji refuses to start the car until you eat the lunch his wife packed for you. It’s light and refreshing — they want you to eat well, but they’re not cruel. Even if they want to bring you a feast of a nice, hot, home cooked meal, you’ll eat it out of obligation and then suffer the consequences on set when everyone asks why you’re so bloated. You don’t even taste what you’re consuming. 

At 12:30 PM, you hop on the Zoom call and pretend to care about discussing matters such as the lack of personal style affecting the younger generations. Every topic is a trivial topic to you. The only thing worth dissecting is that damn video. You should’ve asked those twenty million subscribers to help you analyze that, instead of nodding along when the YouTuber starts going on a rant about how Shein and other fast fashion brands are ruining everything. 

Late in the afternoon, you get another text. 

kenyu: So the team wants to host a belated birthday party for me lmao. Team’s planning on having it at 10 tonight kenyu: Sending you the address right now

A party is exactly what you need right now. Endless drinks, no need for rational thinking, and you’ll be (mostly) surrounded by people who think models are all vain and vapid. No one there is going to expect a decent conversation from you, and with the state you’re in, it’s a wonder how all your sentences are even making sense. 

You give Kenyu’s next message a like in response. You were expecting a club, but when you click on the address, Maps reveals that it’s residential. Rin is gallivanting around European nightclubs, and meanwhile, the best you can do are house parties. This is how the future is playing out? 

At least even at your worst, people still think you’re on top of the world. 

Maybe life without a man dragging you down and invading your space is for the best. After all, once you got done with all your professional obligations, it’s only eight at night. You’re used to going out with whatever makeup they did for you on set at your last shoot of the day, which is a shame. You have shelves full of makeup that’s been sent to you by different brands, and one of these nights, you plan on just messing around at your vanity. 

You like living alone, you decide. You can leave all the lights on if you want, and no one complains about it hurting their eyes. You have full control of the thermostat. You don’t have to fight for counter space in the bathroom. Plus, no one can see how you’re living. 

At 9:13 PM, you’re sprawled on the cool marble floor of your bathroom (squeaky clean thanks to the housekeeper you have come once a week), and instead of rewatching that dreadful video and subsequently crying, you had a quick retail therapy session. Your new Prada heels should be coming within the next two days. 

You don’t get Benji to drive you. Nobody bats an eye at a rich girl having a driver, but it does seem kind of weird to have him drop you off at a party as if you're a tween girl getting taken to the mall. If the house is owned by one of Yukimiya’s teammates, surely it won’t be too awkward if you had to leave it there because you got too drunk to drive yourself back home? 

Because — no offense to Yuki, you’re happy he’s getting another birthday celebration — the whole point of even going to this party is to get fucked up. You already know that Juliette had a point — if not TMZ, then at least Daily Mail will be all over Rin and that girl in the club. If that gets leaked, then you might as well have your own headline to combat his. Sure, lately you’ve been out partying, but that was with other models so it doesn’t raise too many eyebrows. Rin being caught at a club is basically him hard launching the breakup. You need to raise some speculation on your side of things, too. 

you: can you get someone to pick up my car from this address tomorrow morning? you: please :) 

When you see three dots appear, you smile for real. You can practically hear her sigh and see the shake of her head.

Fumiko Gima: Yes. Fumiko Gima: Be safe.

Aw, maybe your manager does have a heart. Right before you can send her a heart, she adds:

Fumiko Gima: Don’t stay out too late. You have your first shoot at 8 AM. 

This is the message you give a heart reaction to. Maybe everything really is just business with her. 

You suppose you can’t fault Fumiko for always seeming cold. She’s your manager, not your best friend. 

In this industry, her honesty is refreshing. You normally find this to be the case, but you really feel it now when you step into the mansion and hear a cacophony of laughter swarming you from all sides. At every turn, there’s a celebrity with a drink in hand. Everyone’s leaning towards each other, as if they’re so captivated with the other’s words. 

You see an actor leading a stumbling model up the spiral staircase. To your side, you see a baseball player chatting up the daughter of one of the baseball league’s board members. Upstairs, someone’s probably snorting a line off Yukimiya’s teammate’s bathroom counter. There are only three reasons why people in your social circle attend these parties: to get fucked, to get fucked up, or to make business deals. Considering the fact that you’ve been here for nearly five minutes and have yet to see a birthday cake — or the belated birthday boy himself — you’re pretty sure everyone here has lot the damn plot for the original celebration.

When you venture some more, you end up in the massive backyard. Some people are drunkenly making out in the pool, some people are watching them, and in a table in the corner, you spot a group of girls giggling and cheering as they all do shots. Perfect. This is exactly where you need to be. 

One’s a model; you’ve seen her on a couple pages you flipped through in Harper’s Bazaar. You go up to the table and give her a bright smile.

“Hey, girl! Or should I say Miss Bazaar?” You greet her like how you think people would tease a friend. She’s not your friend; you don’t even know her name. You know she knows your name — everyone here does. And it’s because of the fact that everyone knows you that she lights up when she realizes you’re speaking to her. 

A photo op with you guarantees that even if the headline coming out tomorrow is centered on you, she’ll still be in the frame. Daily Mail will add a caption naming everybody from left to right, and she’s planning on being the one captured right next to you. 

“[Name]!” She squeals, giving you a quick side hug. “How have you been?”

All your friends, the grand total of exactly two people, know how you’ve been. You grin, pointing to the bottle of tequila they have on their table. 

“After how this day has been, I honestly just need a shot.” You play it off like a joke, and as someone pours you one, you add, “Or maybe like five.” They all giggle before throwing back the tequila straight. They might think you’re joking, but this table full of strangers are the first people you’ve been honest with all day. 

At 12:15 AM, they aren’t strangers anymore. In fact, you think they might be your best friends in the whole world. You don’t know the lyrics to the rap song blaring through the bass boosted speakers, but you’re laughing as you take another shot. The Harper’s Bazaar girl is doing another shot with you, but she has her phone in her other hand. She makes sure that the both of you are in the frame together, and a second later, she’s tagging you in an Instagram story you don’t bother to view. You’re not even following her. 

“Okay, so out of all the guys here, who looks the most fuckable?” One of the girls leans on the table for support as she asks this question. You can’t help but notice how glittery her lipgloss is. Wow, even after all the shots she’s taken, there’s no transfer. Impressive. “I say Theo Sachs.” 

“Who the fuck is Theo Sachs?” Harper’s Bazaar asks, and the whole entire table giggles. Honestly, at parties like these, laughing comes easy. In fact, you’re giggling right with them, even though you also have no fucking clue who Theo is. There’s just something so freeing in tequila-induced joy. 

“Um, the host of this party?” Glittery Lipgloss says. “Oh my God, girl, he’s like, one of the players for Bastard.” 

“The fuck is Bastard?” Another girl asks, adjusting her blue minidress. 

“The soccer team!” Glittery Lipgloss is too drunk to be fed up, but you’re sure she would be rolling her eyes if she could. 

“I didn’t know we had soccer players here. I only saw baseball players.” Blue Minidress frowns, before adding, “I would totally fuck one of the baseball boys, though. No preference whatsoever. Matter of fact, I could take the whole team.” 

Harper’s Bazaar laughs. “What about you, [Name]? Who are you taking home tonight?” 

Before you can think of something to say, Glittery Lipgloss groans. “Oh my God, she has a boyfriend.” She looks at you for confirmation. You don’t give her any, but thankfully Blue Minidress has her own insight to add to this conversation. 

“So what the fuck does that have to do with her question? [Name], who are you taking home tonight?” 

Nobody. Out of every party you’ve gone to this past month, you went back home, completely and utterly alone each and every time. It’s not even because nobody offered — they have — but because no matter how lonely you may get or feel, you don’t like strangers in your space. It took you three months of dating Rin to let him into the penthouse you were originally staying in, and that was with you being in love with him. 

Once again, you’re saved from answering when someone behind you goes, “[Name]?” 

You turn around, only to come face to face with Yoichi Isagi. On second thought, maybe this isn’t the rescue you thought it was. Drunk You can’t hold back your frown when you see him. He’s wearing a dark blue polo shirt and chinos. He looks perfectly business casual and could pass off as an off-the-clock investment banker instead of the world class athlete you’ve heard he is. Then you let out a little snort of laughter, which only makes him look more confused. You don’t want to tell him that it’s kind of funny how normal he looks. 

Not in a bad way. You’re surrounded by models for practically the whole day. Looking unattainably hot or having ethereal beauty is the one non-negotiable job requirement. Even Rin, with his stupidly long lower lashes and impossibly high cheekbones and his pretty boy resting sulking face, is serving standards some male models can’t achieve. Isagi looks like the type of guy you would have a crush on if the two of you were completely normal and attended regular high school together. 

But that’s not the reality you’re living in. Right now, you’re getting drunk with girls you don’t know, and every night, you’re making headlines. He’s a professional athlete that everyone at this table would gladly fuck just for a chance to be declared social media’s favorite WAG of the Week. The both of you could have your pick of anyone at this party, but you refuse to let anyone in, and you think Isagi might be one of those intense athletes who only care about their sport.

If that’s the case, he’s doing every girl a favor by not pretending he can commit to anything but soccer. You know someone who could use a few pointers. 

“Hi,” you mumble, and then you want to slap yourself because why the fuck are you acting like you’re nervous? But for some reason, you feel like you're a kid caught with their grimy hand in the cookie jar, like you’re doing something wrong.

“I didn’t know you’d be here.” 

“Well, it’s Kenny’s birthday party. Of course, I’d be here.” You cross your arms against your chest, feeling like you have something to prove. Before Yukimiya became his teammate, Kenyu was your friend first. Like, real friend, not just someone you leave supportive comments on their Instagram post type of friend. 

Isagi actually smiles when he hears that. “Funny. I think everyone but Yukimiya actually wants to be here.” 

You sober up a bit when you hear that. “Yeah, I couldn’t find him anywhere.” Not that you looked very hard. The minute you found this table of girls, you didn’t bother exploring the rest of the mansion. 

“He was upstairs with some of the guys. You know that he, uh, doesn’t really like these types of parties.” He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. 

“You don’t seem like the type to like these parties either.” If he was anyone else, you’d be saying this to flirt. You’re honestly not sure what your intention behind this comment was, either. You’re too drunk to decide if you wanted it to be an insult (some way to defend Yukimiya’s behavior?) or just you trying to make conversation for once (you’re not normally one for small talk). 

“Caught me.” Isagi smiles easily. From now and thinking back to Yukimiya’s birthday lunch, Isagi is rarely not smiling. You wonder if he means it. Surrounded by people who only let you drink with them because being seen with you elevates their own status, you decide that the answer to that is a probably not. “I was about to head out before I thought I saw you, and I wanted to come by and…” For a second, he pauses to choose the right words to say. “Just wanted to see if it really was you.”

“Well, you saw me. Guess your business is done here.” Then you swiftly turn your back to him, as if to abruptly end the conversation. Instead, you’re drunker than you realize, and your heel ends up being wedged deeper into the grass than you expected, and you lose your balance. You think you might fall, which would be so embarrassing, but maybe not as embarrassing as what actually ends up happening.

What actually ends up happening is that Isagi is quick to wrap his arm around your abdomen, pulling you close to him as he attempts to keep you steady and upright. The girls looked shocked, but then they burst into another round of giggles, and since you’re not joining in the laughter, all you can think about is how annoying they are. You squirm around in his grasp, ignoring the whiff of fresh laundry you get from being all up in his personal space (not by choice!!!; he’s the one that pulled you in, after all!), and he releases you. 

“Are you feeling okay?” He asks you. It’s hard to glare at him when he looks so genuinely concerned. 

“Never better.” 

“Do you have a ride home?” 

What does it matter to you? Is what you want to say. 

“I’ll call an Uber.” You lie, hoping that this will end the conversation once and for all. Seriously, Isagi just killed the whole vibe of the party for you. You want to go back to drinking. 

“But I thought you didn’t do Ubers.” When Isagi calls you out on your bullshit, you soften momentarily. You almost forgot that he heard about your weird thing of having strangers know your home address. Then, you go back to giving him the cold shoulder. Sometimes, it’s a warm and gooey feeling to be known. Right now, you want to drown your sorrows in tequila and be showered with fake affection by girls who probably don’t even like you sober. You didn’t come to this party to be known. You came here for revenge. 

(You’re not going to acknowledge how drinking your sadness away isn’t necessarily showing up Rin, but for nearly an hour straight, you hadn’t thought about him, and that’s good enough.) 

When you have no response to that (wit doesn’t come easy when you’re in the condition you’re in right now), Isagi looks at you imploringly. 

“Let me take you home.” 

You shake your head childishly, almost saying nuh-uh. “Just because you don’t like this party doesn’t mean I don’t like it. I’m staying right here.” 

He finally frowns. “Fine. I’ll wait for you to finish up here, then I’ll take you home.”

“I’m with my friends right now. Leave me alone.” 

He raises an eyebrow. “Really? Which friend is going to make sure you get home safely? Yukimiya already left early.” Despite the two of you not knowing what the other is thinking, you both give wry smiles about that statement for the same reason. The party is still going on strong, despite the guest of honor not wanting to show his face and leaving early. 

“These are my best friends.” You gesture to the trio of girls you know nothing about, besides the fact that they can keep up with your drinking habits. They all smile at Isagi, who waves back before turning his attention back to you.

“Really?” He asks. “What’re their names again?”

No one has anything to say to that, especially you. When the silence gets too awkward, Isagi clears his throat and also puts his foot down.

“I’m taking you home, [Name].” 

You look at the trio of strangers you just spent hours with. Harper’s Bazaar shrugs, and the other two look away. The sting of not knowing who they are, despite them obviously having enough notoriety to be invited, makes your “best friends” not your friends anymore. Whatever. 

“Fine.” You grumble, following Isagi to his car. 

“Did you have fun tonight?” Is what he asks you as he signals to make a turn. The clicking of the turn signal is the only thing that fills the silence in the car. 

No. 

Sometimes, it’s fun in the moment, but that’s only when you’re drunk enough to trick yourself into thinking you’re having a good time. You’re more like Yukimiya (and — gross — Isagi) than they know; the whole “It Girl dominates the party scene” vibe you’ve got going on… It’s just bullshit that your PR team mixes together to get people talking. The high of being adored by everyone in a room vanishes almost immediately the minute you go home and wash off your makeup. In the bright lights of your bathroom, you stare at the sad, lonely girl in the mirror. It’s too dark outside for you to see anything out the window, but you lean your head against the cool glass, and before you know it, you’re waking up…

To Isagi groping you?

You’re groggy and confused and trying to blink the sleepiness out of your eyes, but Yoichi Isagi is definitely all up on you. You’re shocked, honestly. He looks like such a sweet guy! No wonder he was so pushy in getting you home.

He’s holding you in some awkward side hug, and he’s patting down your waist, trying to slip his fingers through the fabric of your dress, and finally, because he must be a novice-level pervert who doesn’t know the first thing about female anatomy, you speak up. 

“Gross! You can’t even feel up a girl properly! No wonder you take advantage of drunk, vulnerable girls!” 

“Ah!” He jerks back, shocked that you’re awake. Serves the pervert right. He should be backing up. You took a month of kickboxing classes (your modeling agency thought it would be the next big thing, since all the Victoria Secret models kickbox — they were wrong). “I-I wasn’t feeling you up!” 

“Then why were your hands all over me?” 

“I was looking for your key! You were asleep, and you looked like you needed it, so I just carried you to your door, but it’s locked.”

Oh. Likely story. You’re not letting him off the hook just yet. 

“Obviously my front door would be locked, dumbass. Who doesn’t lock their house?” You point to the perfectly trimmed hedges by your door. “Key’s in the bushes.”

Since you’re making no moves to get down on your knees and rifle through the bushes, Isagi sighs and does it himself. When he holds up the key, you nod in thanks, take it, and then proceed to unlock the door using your fingerprint. 

He blinks. “What?” 

“What?” You repeat back, innocently. 

“You didn’t even need the key to unlock the door!”

“Yes, Isagi. Modern technology is something, isn’t it?” And because you feel kind of bad, you offer him the chance to wash up before driving back. 

“You’re really something, you know that?” Isagi says from the kitchen sink. You’re sitting on a stool by the counter.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s nothing bad.” He clarifies. “It’s just… Rin’s a pretty private person. We always wondered what his girlfriend must be like. Sorry.” He shuts off the faucet, dries his hands. “Ex-girlfriend, I guess.”

“How do you know that?” You’ve been racking your brain, wondering if Yuki spilled your secret accidentally. Or — even worse — Rin himself confirmed it. Rin never even told anyone explicitly that the two of you were dating, so it’s not plausible that he would go blab about the breakup. 

“Well, I didn’t really know for sure until I drove you home that first time.” He admits. “I just thought you made a weird face when I mentioned Rin during lunch, and then you started acting funny afterwards. Just had a hunch, that’s all.” 

Great. So, Isagi, who’s basically a stranger to you, could read you to filth. Is there anyone else that you haven’t been fooling? How embarrassing. Being perceived sucks. 

You don’t say anything else. You can hear Isagi mumbling about something, and you make a half-hearted noise in reply, but you’re sleepy and drunk and coming to the realization that you can’t keep fooling everyone around for long. There’s no point in dancing around the topic of your breakup. It’s getting tiring, anyway. 

It is pretty exhausting to be pining after someone who’s not coming back. 

Because that’s why you’re trying so hard to keep the breakup a secret. Partly for pride, but mostly because… You’re hoping that after learning everything there is to know about you, Rin Itoshi wouldn’t go so far to cut you so deeply by leaving you. Right? He understood your level of loneliness like no one else, and he related to it. For the first time in both of your lives, the two of you suddenly found the right person to fill in all the empty spaces. 

And then he left, and the emptiness just continues to grow in infinite amounts.

You groan as you move around, only to find that you’re moving on top of your bed. You’re tucked into your sheets, and your hair is splayed across your pillow. You turn your head and see a shadowy figure exiting out your bedroom door.

“You’re leaving, too?” 

Your throat is dry, and the words come out small. You hate this feeling of hopelessness and vulnerability, and the figure pauses in his steps. 

He hushes you gently. “You should go to sleep. You’ve had a long night.” 

“Fine. Don’t stay. I don’t care.” You burrow yourself further into your blankets. 

“Do you really want me to stay?” 

At one in the morning, covered in the darkness of your bedroom, you turn every shadow into Rin Itoshi. You don’t know what you mumble in response, but you know that whatever you said, it’s directed towards him.

[the1920sinpictures]

1920s Maria Monaci Gallenga velvet dress trimmed with silk metallic pigment and metallic yarn. From the Rhode Island School of Design.

[publicdomainreview]

In 1856, a 17-year-old woman from Rhode Island embarked an a unique and brilliant project. She gathered autographed pieces of silk from hundreds of celebrities (including Dickens, Emerson, and Lincoln) and incorporated them into a stunning quilt: https://publicdomainreview.org/collection/adeline-harris-sears-autographs-quilt-1856-ca-1863

[roseghoul26]

Chapter 3: I Can't Stop You Putting Roots In My Dreamland

Arthur Morgan x fem!Reader

Synopsis: A fic based off the song “ivy” by Taylor Swift. After a startling introduction to the man, Arthur Morgan became the most important part of your life. Married at a young age to an older, wealthy man to help your family, you were trapped in a loveless marriage, your only sense of escape with the rugged cowboy. Will you be able to keep your affair hidden, or will your husband find out, and destroy the last thing that made you happy? Tags: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Strangers To Lovers, Infidelity, Fem!Reader, She/Her Pronouns Used For Reader, Period Typical Misogyny, Emotional Manipulative Relationship (not with Arthur), Mostly Follows Timeline of Game, High Honor Arthur Morgan Author's Note: this chapter does talk about sex with the husband, which isn’t non consensual, but it also isn’t something the reader actually wants, doing it more out of obligation than anything. also chapters will probably start to be longer and therefore take longer to write <3 Taglist: @lokiofasgard12 @ultraporcelainpig @that-one-beannnn @morethantheycansay Chapter List

You rarely smoked. 

The only time you did was after you and Hans were intimate. He would roll over onto his side, asleep, and you would get up from the bed, wrapping your robe around you and heading outside to the front porch, sitting right on the top stair. 

It was comforting to you, because you imagined the flame and smoke from the cigarette would burn the remnants of him from your body. 

You felt them in your pocket, the promise of temporary relief calling to you like a siren. You ignored them, choosing to listen to the sounds of the woods around you. The crickets sang, the frogs croaked, and you heard the chattering of nocturnal animals as they found food for the night. Everything was so peaceful, so why couldn’t you stop yourself from feeling so tense?

It had been two days since the trip into Rhodes. Hans had stayed in his office for most of that time, only coming out to eat and sleep. But as was typical before leaving on trips, Hans wanted you, so you obliged him. 

Sex with Hans felt like a task, no passion between the two of you. He treated it like he treated his business: efficiently. There was no foreplay, no lingering touches, nothing. It was just straight to the point, and done as soon as it started, which came as a relief to you. The less time you had to spend doing it with him, the better. 

However, as much as it shamed you to admit it, your thoughts had not been of Hans during the moment. Instead of cold gray eyes traveling down your body, you imagined they were a certain shade of blue. Instead of pallid skin, you imagined it was tanned, roughened from years in the suns. And when Hans’ hands did touch you, you imagined they were strong and broad, calloused yet gentle. You’d be a liar if you said it didn’t make it easier. 

Disgusted with yourself, you ran a hand down your face, slumping forward where you sat on the stair. Cold air dug into your skin, and you tightened your robe further around your body. The silk felt nice against your skin, but it did nothing to protect against the elements. 

You were about to fish the pack out of your pocket, but the sound of hoofbeats had you perking your head up, eyes focusing on the small path in front of you. Emerging from the shadows was a man on horseback, lantern in one hand that lit up the side of his face. It took you a second to register who it was, not quite believing your eyes at first. 

“Arthur?” You called out. Not only could you not escape from him in your thoughts, but here he was in reality. Not that you minded, but of course the timing had to be terrible. 

He responded with a noise of affirmation, and you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. “What’re you doin’ here? It’s very late.” You knew it was somewhere between nine and ten at night, which is a little late for visitors. “Don’t tell me you’re here to try and rob me again.”

Arthur audibly sighed, shaking his head as he dismounted his horse. “You ain’t ever gonna let that go, are you?” You watched as he secured the reins around a nearby tree before making his way over to you.

“Never,” you laughed, and despite your better judgment, you scooted over to the side to give Arthur room to sit. You patted the stair when he got to the porch, and he sat down next to you. The scent of tobacco and gunpowder wafted over you, and you felt his jacket covered arm brush yours, causing you to shiver.

It was at that point you remembered you were only wearing your undergarments underneath, and you tightened the robe even more around your body, both because of self awareness and the temperature. 

Wordlessly, you felt Arthur shift, taking his jacket and draping it across your shoulders. The outside material of the jacket had been rough, but the inside was lined with a soft pelt, warmed by Arthur’s body. The addicting scent was even stronger now, causing your head to spin, and you resisted the urge to bury your face into it. “You’ll catch your death out here,” he said disapprovingly. You just chuckled in response. 

“What’re you doin’ out here, anyway?” You heard him ask, and you shrugged. 

“I could ask you the same question.” You watched him out of the corner of your eye, and he sighed. 

“Leigh was worried ‘bout the ‘issue’ you’d been having, with the break-ins. He wanted me to come out ‘ere and make sure everythin’ is good.” He laughed lightly, and you felt his eyes on you. “Now will you answer me?”

Finally, you pulled out the pack, holding it gently in your hands. Glancing up at Arthur, he seemed surprised. “Didn’t strike me as the type who smoked,” he commented.

“I rarely do.” You pulled out one of the cigarettes from the pack, placing it gently between your lips. Pulling out your lighter, it took a few too many tries before the spark caught, and you lit the end of it. Taking a long drag, you wordlessly offered Arthur one from the pack.

He accepted it, placing it between his own plush lips, and you shifted closer to light it. Except this time, no matter how many times you tried, the spark wouldn’t catch, and you could hear Arthur chuckle as you grew more and more frustrated. “Piece of shit,” you grumbled, “I keep forgettin’ to buy a new one.”

You tried it a few more times before giving up, shoving it angrily back into your robe. “Sorry,” you grumbled, guilty eying the unlit cigarette that hung from his mouth.

“Can I try somethin’?” Arthur asked, and it piqued your curiosity, so you nodded. “C’mere.” Arthur gestured for you to move closer to him, which you did. The man practically radiated heat, you noticed, and your cold body wanted nothing more than to wrap around him. 

Your brain stopped functioning when you felt him gently grasp your chin with gloved fingers, keeping your head still, but not tight enough to keep you locked there. He leaned forward like he was going to kiss you, but he instead pressed the end of his cigarette against yours. “Inhale,” he instructed, and you watched the end of yours glow with red embers as you did, which ignited his.

He pulled away then, his touch lingering a little longer than necessary, and you were certain he could feel the way your heart hammered. “Resourceful,” you muttered, and Athur laughed, smoke spilling from his open mouth. You couldn’t tell if it was a trick of the light, but his cheeks were a shade darker than they were moments ago.

“Somethin’ like that. I think ‘desperate’ is the right word, though.” Arthur leaned back on one of his arms, the other moving the cigarette to and from his lips. “Haven’t had a good cigarette in a while.” 

Without even thinking about it, you extended the pack of them for him to take, and you watched him switch his attention from the pack to you. “Take it,” you demanded, shaking it gently when he didn’t budge. “I got plenty of them.”

“I appreciate it, but-”

“Just take the damn thing!” You giggled, practically pressing it against his chest, yet he still made no move to grab it. With a quirk of your brow that said really?, you tucked the pack into one of the various pockets of the coat around your shoulders. 

Arthur shook his head with a mix of defeat and amusement, and even in the low light you could see that smile that made you weak. “You’re stubborn.”

“First I’m strange, and now I’m stubborn. Got any other s words you wanna call me?” 

“I can think of a few.” Arthur had begun to lean near you as you spoke, but you watched his eyes flick down to where a ring sat on your hand and he pulled away. “But none of which I should say to a married woman.”

Right. Holding back a sigh of disappointment, you felt the jacket begin to slip from your shoulders, and you swore you saw Arthur’s arm move to fix it before stopping himself. Securing it back around, you took a final drag from your cigarette before stomping it out with your shoe, then kicking the butt under the porch once it had cooled some.

“Are you busy the next couple of weeks?” You asked, not really knowing what you were saying. 

“I’ve got some things. Why?”

“Oh, nevermind.” You immediately felt silly for even bringing it up.

“You sure?”

“Well…” you took a breath. “Hans is gonna be gone for the next week or two, and you especially know how easy it is to get in here,” you gestured to the house, and Arthur shook his head again. “I guess what I’m tryin’ to ask is if you’d swing by every couple of days? Just to make sure nothin’ has happened? I’ll sleep better knowing there's someone out there who keepin’ an eye on things. And I’ll pay,” you tagged on, and Arthur brought the cigarette back up to his lips, almost contemplative. 

You totally weren’t trying to come up with a reason to see him more. 

“Just every couple of days?”

You nodded. “You don’t even gotta talk to me or anythin’. I’ll leave the money somewhere secure and you can just grab it.”

“And if I wanna talk to you?” Arthur’s voice was surprisingly faint, like someone would if they didn’t have complete confidence in what they were saying. 

Cherishing the knowledge that he didn’t dislike your presence, you couldn’t help the small smile as you responded. “Well, I’ll be around.”

Arthur hummed in response, and he took one final drag until he was stomping it out, kicking it under the porch like you did. The two of you sat in silence after that, simply taking in the serenity of the nighttime forest. Arthur titled his head back, eyes locked on to the forest, and the moonlight graced his features. Why did he look even more gorgeous at night? Pale white light highlighted the angles of his face, his high cheeks, the crook of his nose. You were able to make out a scar along the bridge of his nose, and another on his chin. You wondered if the rest of his body was marked that way.

You hadn’t realized you’d been staring at him until he turned his attention on you, and you couldn’t tell if he was amused or concerned. “You alright there?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah,” you quickly responded. “Just tired.” Whether Arthur believed you, you’d never know. 

“Let’s get you inside, then,” Arthur replied, slowly standing up from the step. You almost wanted to grab his hand and pull him back down, not wanting this little moment to end. But that familiar feeling of guilt returned, and so you let the moment go, dissipating in the air like the smoke of your cigarettes. 

Arthur helped you up, escorting you to your front door with a hand barely not touching your back. You slid the jacket off your body, giving it back to him with a soft thank you. After draping it around one of his arms, he held the door open for you. You were about to step in when you heard him murmur your name. “Have a good night, darlin’.”

“Because of you, it is.” You beamed at him, before ducking into the dimly-lit house. A few seconds later, you heard the door latch shut, and the sound of receding hoofbeats a few minutes after. 

You gave yourself a moment to calm your racing heart, fanning your face to try and alleviate the heat in your cheeks. You were giddy and felt lighter than a feather. Like the last time, you felt like your real self had broken free, if not for a moment. That taste of freedom was delicious, and it was addicting. 

But with that freedom came guilt, and you were screaming at yourself in your head, every nasty word under the sun aimed directly at you in your mind. Married or not, you shouldn’t be letting an almost stranger sit that close to you, let him drape his jacket over you, let him hold your face so gently.

You shouldn’t be reacting this way. 

You shouldn’t be torturing yourself by getting close to him. 

You shouldn’t be getting close to him.

There were so many things you shouldn’t be doing, but you knew you couldn’t stop now. You needed more.

Sighing, you slowly began to make your way upstairs, the stairs creaking with each step. You headed into the washroom that wasn’t attached to your bedroom, this one located across the hall a ways down from where Hans was currently asleep. Washing the remnants of smoke from your body, you dared to glance at yourself in the mirror.

Sure, nothing has changed too drastically since you got married, your face still practically the same. But a deep weariness had made itself at home in your eyes. Your eyes, once filled with wonder and joy at the world, had turned dull, much like Hans’. They seemed to have sunken in more, like the life from your body was being sucked from your body. 

Anger boiled your blood, tears threatening to flow as you stared at the husk of yourself in the mirror. You were angry at your family for marrying you off. You were angry at Hans for agreeing to marry you. You were angry at the world for thinking it was okay.

And you were angry at Arthur for breaking into your house and setting off this chain of events in your mind. 

Taking a deep breath, you composed yourself. This marriage needed to happen, you told yourself, and it provided some small comfort, but it didn’t ease the sense of betrayal. And you shouldn’t be mad at Arthur, because it wasn’t his fault. You just wanted someone to blame for your treachery. Wiping down your hands, you were sure to avoid looking at yourself in the mirror again as you left.

Before you knew it, you were back in the bedroom, the familiar sight of Hans’ form beneath the covers causing a lump to form in your throat. Quickly slipping off the robe, you replaced it with a nightgown before joining him under the covers. 

The comforting smell of Arthur still clung to your skin, lulling you to sleep, your dreams interrupted with visions of him. It was the best sleep you’d gotten in a long time.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

The sunlight woke you up, beams interrupting your slumber instead of the voice of your husband. 

Sitting up, you placed your hand on the other side of your bed, and you felt it was cold. A smile grew across your face, an almost child-like giddiness bubbling inside of you. He was gone.

You quickly got out of bed, immediately heading to the closet to get dressed, not wanting to waste any of the precious time you had alone. You had no idea what you were going to do, but you were going to savor every moment. You had glanced at the clock on the way over, and you were surprised to see that you’d slept in until ten.

You decided on a thin, flowy skirt and a light blouse, something that would let you move with ease. As you got dressed, a familiar piece of paper caught your eye, tucked in the drawer containing your socks hastily. You picked up the little thank you note that Arthur had given to you, looking over it fondly. It was such a small gesture, but it meant everything to you. 

Tucking it back, you left your closet, heading down the stairs. Even the house seemed happier, sunlight streaming into the windows, and you opened some of them, letting wind clear away the stagnant air. You made yourself a quick breakfast, an assortment of fruits and some bread, cleaning the dishes once you were done. 

You now sat at the dining table, contemplating what you were going to do. Your options were quite limited, as the only way to travel from the house was the carriage, but that was gone. Hans didn’t keep horses, finding the creatures disgusting, leaving you stranded at the house. 

That wasn’t to say you didn't have a way of getting to places. If you really needed to, the main road wasn’t far, about a five minute walk on foot. If you waited long enough, someone would come by with a carriage, and you could ask to hop on. More often than not, they would accept, and you were always sure to hand them a couple of bills for their troubles. It was dangerous, and probably quite stupid, but you enjoyed the thrill of it all. 

But you weren’t in the mood to travel in the city, especially this early, where everyone would be able to clearly see who you were. You slumped back in the chair. Now that the novelty of being alone had worn off, the persistent loneliness was no longer covered up, making you slump even further into your chair.

It was then you finally remembered your little project you’d been working on for some time: your garden. You quickly left the house, a newfound energy in your step as you traveled along the makeshift path you’d made with your steps.Your skirts caught on various plants and sticks, but it didn’t deter you, and you made it to your garden in no time. 

It wasn’t much of a garden, to be completely honest with yourself. Fallen trees stacked up against one side, blocking it from view from the house. You hadn't tended to it for some time, and it showed. All six of your planters were handmade, made from various sticks and planks you’d found scattered about, and you noticed that they were all spilling out their precious dirt, the wood long since rotted. Also, weeds and vines and overgrowth covered over the delicate plants you’d raised, and you made a sad noise. You hoped they weren’t all dead. 

Digging through the thick growth, your fears were confirmed when instead of bright green, you were met with wilted brown. They weren’t anything special, just a few herbs and small vegetables that you’d grown from the remnants of produce you’d used for supper. Still, it was something you’d poured yourself into, and you couldn’t help the way your shoulders sagged, energy wilted just like the plants. 

You were about to move the weeds back over, when from the pile of dead plants, a sliver of fresh green caught your eye. Investigating further, you found a cluster of small growth of thyme and mint, baby sprouts, but still able to become something greater. A victorious laugh left you, and you eagerly began tearing away the invasive greenery, your energy returned.

It took a while, but eventually you’d uncovered everything, the dead plants pulled out, leaving the few remaining live ones in the unstable dirt. Before you could move them, though. you’d have to make new planters. The rest of the day you spent gathering various sticks, planks, and pieces of bark, creating a substantial pile in the garden.

By the time night came around, you were exhausted, covered in dirt and sweat, but surprisingly content. You bathed and, no matter how much you wanted to stay up and wait to see if Arthur would stop by, you went to bed. You said every couple of days, not every night, for God’s sake. 

The next day was spent working on the planters, taking many breaks inside. It took too many tires for you to make one that would stay together, but by the end of the night you’d made one. 

The third day arrived, and you worked again on the planters. It was the end of the third night when you heard hoofbeats come down your road, and you felt your heart beat excitedly. You were still close to the house, so you were able to hear Arthur call out your name. “Over here!” You responded, but you doubted he could see you because your back was pressed against the stack of fallen logs, blocking you from view from the house. “In the woods!”

It took a few moments, but you eventually heard branches crack and leaves rustle, as well as the light noise of his spurs. “Hello, Arthur,” you turned your head back to greet the man as he approached your side. “I’ll get your payment in a moment, just let me finish this.”

You turned back to the planter in your lap, and you saw out of the corner of your eye as Arthur crouched down next to you, watching what you were doing with an unreadable expression. “What’s all this?” He asked as you tied a knot of the rope, testing the stability of the planter with a tug. When it held, you smiled proudly. Another one done. 

“This,” you gestured around you, “is my garden. And this,” you pointed to the now finished planter, “is one of the last planters I need to make before I replace all the old ones.”

“Odd place for a garden,” Arthur noted, standing up again. Again, he helped you up, and you smiled gratefully at him. He wasn’t wearing gloves this time, and you were able to feel the rough skin on yours. 

“I know,” you replied, wiping dirt from your hands on your skirt. “But it ain’t like I got any other place for it.”

“Whaddya mean? You’ve got a whole empty lawn,” he said with disbelief, and you shook your head.

“I guess I mean I can’t. I ain’t even supposed to have this.”

“You… can’t?”

“It ain’t ‘ladylike or proper’ to keep a garden, apparently,” you scoffed, and began to make your way back to the house. “C’mon, let’s get you your money.”

A part of you hoped that he wouldn’t just take the money and leave as you walked back toward the house, but you wouldn’t blame him if he did. The two of you idly chatted, you leading the way back, Arthur not far behind. 

Looking back as you talked, you were able to appreciate him visually as you kept eye contact. He had the same red button up on  from earlier in the week, sleeves rolled up at the elbow, and the top two buttons undone. He had forgone the bandana around his neck entirely today, and you were thankful for it. He kept his hands on his gunbelt as he walked, the act far more enticing than it should be. You had to move your eyes before you could begin to stare. 

Reaching the house, Arthur held the door open for you, hesitantly following in after you. It was strange, seeing Arthur in your house properly. He looked very out of place, the antiquated decorations of high society a harsh contrast of the rugged outdoorsman. 

“I’m gonna go grab the money, so make yourself at home. And,” you pointed to his boots, “take those off. You tracked mud in my kitchen last time.”

He held his hands up defensively. “My apologies,” he chuckled, but he complied, setting his boots next to your shoes. It was almost familiar, seeing your shoes next to his, and a pang of longing for a life you’d never had or will have tore through your chest. 

Heading upstairs, you pushed those feelings away as you entered your bedroom. Reaching under the bed, you grabbed the lockbox you kept stashed, hidden between the mattress and the frame, setting it on your bed. Opening it, you grabbed a few bills from it, totalling to about five dollars. You pulled from your own personal money, not wanting Hans to question why he was suddenly down a bit of money when he returned. Tucking it back under, you hurriedly made your way back downstairs to Arthur.  

He hadn’t sat down yet. Instead, you watched as he traveled around the living room, examining the various photographs that decorated the shelves and the mantle of the fireplace. He was frowning as he looked over your and Hans’ wedding photo, but he broke his gaze from them as you stood next to him. “Here,” you handed him the money. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” he murmured, taking the bills gently, putting them away in one of his pockets. 

The two of you stood in silence after that. You weren’t quite sure what to say. A part of you wanted to invite him to stay for a drink, but that was risky, pushing to something less than proper. He took the framed wedding photo into his hands, and the both of you observed it.

You looked like a spooked deer in the photo, your eyes wide and staring into the camera. Hans had his arm linked in yours, and it was the only time you’d seen him smile, even though it was forced. The dress you were wearing was a poofy mess of fabric and ribbon, and you remembered how much it itched your skin.

“The dress is ugly, I know,” you joke, getting a chuckle from the man. “I’d never choose to wear somethin’ like that.”

“It seems like you don’t got a choice in a lot of things,” you heard him mutter, more to himself than anything. You couldn’t bring yourself to disagree with him; it was obvious you’d be lying. 

Arthur set the frame back on the fireplace mantle, and when his hand returned to his side, you felt it brush against yours, but a little too hard to be accidental. It was a simple yet comforting touch, and for a moment that loneliness tormenting you eased. 

But just as it came, it left, Arthur taking a few steps away from you. Turning your head to watch him, you felt disappointment overwhelm you. “I-” he cleared his throat. “I have to go.” 

“Okay,” you whispered as he got his boots back on. 

His mouth opened and shut as he struggled to formulate words, and he ended up just sighing. “I’ll see you later, darlin’.”

Nodding, you turned your attention back to the photo, not wanting him to see the sadness in your eyes. You heard the door latch shut, and like your shoes by the door, you were now alone.

You stayed inside for the rest of the night.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

The next day arrived, and with it came rain. Lots of it.

It pounded against the roof of your house, and you found the sound of it comforting, distracting you from your miserable thoughts. Because of that, you spent most of the day in the attic cleaning, where you could feel the rain if you pressed your hand against the roof.

The following day was a clear one, not a single cloud in the sky. You finished up the planters, arranging them how you liked. You rewarded yourself with a long soak in the bath, spending nearly an hour in the tub. 

For both of those days, your mind kept wandering to Arthur, but not on the reason you thought it would. You kept going back to his comment about how you didn’t have a choice in a lot of things. In the back of your mind, you always knew that, but to hear it out loud, it had been staggering. 

You didn’t let yourself think about it for too long, however. The sacrifice of your own choice in life was a necessary one, you told yourself, and itIt was selfish of you to want otherwise. Your family would be out on the street if it wasn’t for you, and besides, you should be grateful for the life Hans has provided for you.

So why was it so hard to convince yourself to believe your thoughts?

You dreamed that night, for the first time in a while. It wasn’t anything crazy, but it still had you gasping when you woke. It was a domestic scene, and you were in the kitchen making breakfast. A sleep-laden Arthur came into the scene, brown hair tousled and in his face. He wrapped his arms around your body, bare chest pressing into your back, and he burrowed his face into the crook of your neck. It felt so real, and you swore you could feel the scratch of his beard on your neck when you woke. 

Getting out of bed the next day had been a struggle. You angrily grumbled at the birds as they taunted you with their lighthearted music, and you debated rolling over a smashing a pillow over your head and going back to sleep. 

Eventually, you managed to leave the bed, getting dressed and eating breakfast like you’d done in all the previous days. The monotony was getting boring, but there wasn’t anything you could do about that. 

Today you worked on filling the planters with dirt, and it took a surprising amount of time to find some that wasn’t too rocky or too muddy, and of course it had to be a significant walk from the planters. All you had to transport the dirt was a small shovel that you stored in a hollow trunk nearby, and you spent the day carrying each precious shovelful across the forest

By the time early evening rolled around, you were exhausted, your hands cramping and shoulders aching from the shovel, but you now had six planters filled with dirt, and the baby sprouts placed in each one. The dirt was still damp enough from the rainfall earlier, so you didn’t have to worry about watering today.

Leaning your back against the fallen trunks, you closed your eyes, savoring the feeling of the warm sun rays against your skin. The birds sounded less taunting than they did in the morning, and you let yourself get lost in their songs.

So lost, in fact, that you failed to notice when they stopped, spooked by the sound of a voice and footfalls. You jumped when your name was said rather loudly beside you, your eyes snapping open and staring at the creator of the sound. 

A concerned Arthur stood above you, hand extended like he was about to shake your shoulder. “Oh, hello Arthur,” you grinned up at him.

“You scared me there,” he half-laughed, pulling you to your feet. “I’ve been callin’ your name for a while now.”

“Well, as you can see,” you brushed your hands on your skirt, “I’m still very much alive.” You were afraid that the tense ending of your last interaction would’ve carried over to today, but you’re glad it didn’t. “So, whaddya think?” You gestured to your garden. 

“It’s… cute.”

“Cute?” You scoffed. “You mean to tell me I’ve been working all day for the last week just for it to be cute? You insult me, Arthur.”

Arthur laughed, and that damn smile adorned his lips. Looking away, you felt your cheeks warm.

“I left the money at the house again. C’mon.” 

The walk back to the house was short, like always, and Arthur asked you about the plants you were growing. You explained to him the way you’d found them earlier in the week, recalling the small little sprouts you’d found. 

“Plants are incredible in that way. No matter what the world throws at them, no matter what conditions they’re met with, they always seem to just… come back. Their resilience is incredible!” Looking back at Arthur, he was watching you with an indiscernible expression. “Sorry, didn’t mean to get all poetic there.”

“Don’t apologize,” Arthur shook his head. “I like that, though. Reminds me of someone I know.”

“Oh? Who?” You were genuinely curious, wanting to know more about Arthur and the people he associated with. 

“There’s this amazin’ woman, who, no matter what anyone tells her or what society deems is right, does what she wants, does what makes her happy. And when she gets dragged down, I’ve seen her bounce right back up, ready to take on the world.”

“Maybe you’re the poetic one,” you teased. “She sounds like someone I want to meet.”

You missed the look that Arthur gave you, like he couldn’t believe you weren’t catching on. “I’m sure she’d love to meet you.”

Eventually the two of you came into the house, and Arthur lingered in the doorway. “I’ll be right back, then you’ll be good to go.” You turned to head up the stairs, but you halted. “Unless…” Don’t you dare. “Unless you want to stay for dinner?” 

When he didn’t respond, you panicked a little. “You don’t have to, I just figured cause it’s almost dinnertime, you’d like somethin’ to eat.” Silence. “You know what, forget I said anythin’,” you looked away, embarrassed, and resumed entering the house. 

“You’re spoilin’ me, darlin’,” Arthur laughed breathlessly with a smile. 

“Is that a yes?”

He nodded, and a relieved but genuine smile fell on your lips. “You know where the living room is,” you laughed, toeing off your shoes. Arthur did the same, setting his boot next to yours again, and he made his way to the living room as you went upstairs. 

The process of grabbing the money was no different this time, and you were about to head back downstairs when you caught a glimpse of yourself in one of the mirrors in the bedroom.

Dirt streaked across your face from where you had wiped away sweat, and your clothes were in no better shape. Embarrassment once again overcame you, the ideals that had been ingrained into your brain for years making you feel so. No woman of your standing should be playing in the dirt, then inviting people into her home while covered in it. 

You quickly changed clothes, then headed into the en suite bathroom to wash down your face and body, even go so far as to fix up your hair, pulling out any debris that got caught in it. Satisfied, you headed back downstairs to Arthur, who sat on one of the various couches. He had taken his hat off, setting it next to him, and you watched him run his hands through it. 

“It wasn’t very nice of you to not tell me I was covered in dirt,” was what you said as you approached him, holding out the bills for him. “Sorry that it took so long.”

Arthur just chuckled, standing up in front of you, leaving his hat behind. He took the bills from you with a thankful nod of his head, tucking them into his pocket. “You missed a spot,” he said as he tucked the money away.

“Really?” You began to wipe at your face, frowning when Arthur began to laugh. “Where?”

“Here,” he muttered, and you felt two hands gently wrap around your wrists, tugging them away from your face. Releasing one, he used the pad of his thumb to wipe at your cheek, the rest of his hand resting on your jaw. His cerulean eyes flicked across your face, like he was trying to memorize the details of it, the curve of your cheek, the slope of your nose, the shape of your lips. “There,” he whispered, running the thumb across again for good measure before dropping his hand. 

Arthur stared at you for a moment, like even he couldn’t quite believe what he’d done. All thoughts went out the window, your mind and legs jelly. He took a step back, giving an appropriate amount of room between the two of you. Don’t leave, you were pleading in your head. “I-I’ll get started on dinner,” you stammer out. “If you’d like to get washed up, the bathroom’s upstairs, first door on the left.”

He nodded, taking a few more steps back. “I’ll be right back, then.” And with that, he turned up the stairs, leaving you stunned, alone, in the living room. You ran your fingers over where his hand had just been, and you laughed with shock and delight. You expected to feel guilt, and you did, but it was heavily muffled by the sheer joy radiating in your chest. 

The sound of water rushing through the pipes of the house broke you out of your daze, your hand returning to your side. Right. Dinner. 

Despite the tiredness you felt from hauling dirt everywhere the entire day, you felt energized as you entered the kitchen. You weren’t going to make anything elaborate, mainly because you were starting to run low on supplies. You’d have to run to Rhodes sometime during the next week, using your own money, of course. 

Dinner was going to be two small steaks, with diced potatoes and grilled green beans. The smell of the food quickly permeated the kitchen, making your stomach grumble hungrily. Arthur emerged from the bathroom when dinner was over halfway done, startling you because you had your back to him, and because your mind was constantly distracted with thoughts of him. 

“That smells amazin’,” he commented, causing you to nearly drop the utensil you were using to flip the food. Turning, he held up his hands apologetically. 

“I should’ve had you keep your boots on. Your spurs are loud,” you grumbled lightheartedly. “How are you so quiet?” You kept having to turn your head to talk to him, so he walked up next to you at the stove.

“Years of practice,” Arthur responded, which didn’t clear anything up.

“Practice for what?” 

Arthur hesitated to speak, and you rolled your eyes. “Arthur, I caught you breakin’ into my house. If you’re a thief, just say it.”

“I ain’t a thief.” He replied defensively. 

“Sure, whatever you say. I just sure as hell know you ain’t a deputy.”

Arthur laughed. “Ain’t that the truth.”

“So why are you pretendin’ to be one?”

The man beside you sighed. “It’s a long story… and one I ain’t so sure I can tell yet.”

Silence fell over the two of you, the only sound the sizzling of food as it cooked. It was you who spoke first. “So who are you then, Arthur Morgan?”

Arthur didn’t respond at first, and you watched his struggle to come up with an answer. “I ain’t quite sure,” he finally said, uncertainty lacing his voice.

“You’re… not sure?”

He shrugged. “I’m a lot of things, I suppose. I guess I can’t just put it into one word."

“Alright, how ‘bout this then. Whenever you’re not here, what’re you doin’?”

“I… I’m workin’. Odd jobs and stuff like that.”

“Do those odd jobs include thievin’?”

Exasperated, Arthur  made a noise between a scoff and a chuckle. “I suppose it does. Houses, banks, trains. Whatever gets me money, I guess.”

Grinning at your small victory at his admission, you poked him lightly in the chest. “So you’re an outlaw then.”

“And if I am?”

It was your turn to shrug. “Doesn’t change anythin’, really.”

Arthur noticeably relaxed at your answer. “Good.”

“I’m assumin’ Dutch and Bill are outlaws too, then.”

“Jesus, woman, is this an interrogation?” You heard Arthur mutter, and you laughed. 

“Sorry, sorry, just curious.” Your gaze went back to the food, and you noticed that everything was almost done cooking. “Was I right though?”

“I… Yes.”

You hummed in response. Bill you were expecting, but the other man you weren’t. He looked like he belonged in high society with you, not living a life from the reaches of the law. Maybe appearances aren't always to be believed, then. “Thank you.”

Arthur raised a brow. “For?”

“Answering my questions. And not just brushing them off. Thank you.”

“Yeah,” Arthur responded, not expecting thanks for such a simple thing. “You need any help with this?” He gestured to the food on the stove. “I ain’t much of a cook, but if you need help…”

Never once in your marriage had Hans offered to help you as you cooked, even when you had to make large amounts for dinner parties or guests. A warm smile found its way on your face, and you shook your head. “I think I got it. It’s almost done, anyway. You wanna grab some plates for me?” You pointed to a nearby cupboard. 

“‘Course.” Arthur stepped away from you, fulfilling your request, and your eyes followed him as he moved across the kitchen. Just like the shoes by the door, something about this just felt right, even though everything in your brain was screaming that this was wrong. This domesticity, this familiarity, everything was wrong.

But damn if it didn’t feel good, like something you didn't know was missing inside of you had been returned. 

Arthur returned a few moments later with two plates in his hand, setting them on the counter beside you. You spoke as you began to lead the food onto it. “Go ahead and take a seat. I’ll bring the plates out shortly. Utensils are in the drawer there” You ended with a point. 

“You sure?”

You nodded. “Want anythin’ to drink?”

“Whatever you’re havin’.” Arthur’s voice was distant as he moved away toward the dining room. 

Wine, then. The plates were hot in your hands as you brought them out. Arthur sat at one end of the table, where Hans would sit, and you set it down in front of him. You faltered for a second as you debated where to set yours. Normally, you’d sit on the other end of the table, with four chairs of space between you and Hans, but you figured it would be rude to do that right now. Besides, the selfish part of you wanted to be as close to Arthur as you could.

Leaving a chair’s space, you set your plate down before returning to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of wine, which you opened, and two glasses. Arthur stood when you returned, pulling your chair out, pushing you in when you sat. “You sure you’re an outlaw?” You joked, pouring out two glasses of the red liquid.

“I’m certain.” He took the glass of wine from you once you offered it. “Thank you, darlin’.”

“Of course.” Picking up the utensils that Arthur had grabbed for the both of you, you both dug in. You kept an eye on Arthur as he took the first bite, feeling self conscious of your cooking. He stilled, mid-chew, and you immediately thought the worst. 

“Holy shit,” he muttered under his breath. You took a bite, and you thought it didn’t taste bad, but you were partial to your own cooking. “That’s really good.”

Oh. “I’m glad.” You tried to not sound overly relieved. 

Arthur took another bite, groaning appreciatively. You really did try not to memorize the sound of it. “This is the best thing I’ve tasted in a while.”

“Do I even want to know what you possibly could’ve been eating that makes this taste incredible.”

“Probably not,” Arthur admitted. 

The rest of dinner was filled with idle chat, until Arthur asked a question that had you stopping mid-bite, fork handing in the air. “This ain’t poisoned, right?” He asked it as a joke, but there was a hint of genuine worry in his eyes.

“I sure hope not,” you responded, finishing the bite. Arthur didn’t elaborate further, only responding with a small noise. “Well, you can’t just ask that and then not explain. Is… is that something that’s happened before?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Arthur chuckled humorlessly. “There’s a pig farm north of here I stopped by two weeks ago. Friendly couple invited me in, we shared a drink, and before I knew it I was wakin’ up in a muddy pit with my money gone.” 

You had stared at him, shocked, as he recounted his story. “You’re kiddin’?”

“I wish I was. Wasn’t the first person they’d done it to, either. You wanna know the worst thing?” Arthur asked, leaning into you. You nodded, leaning in as well. “The couple? They were brother and sister, and their mother was their first victim.”

You were horrified and intrigued all at the same time. “Brother and sister? Oh my God,” you shuddered. “Did you get your money back?” Arthur nodded. “There are some weird folks out there.”

“You meet plenty of ‘em when you’re on the road. I don’t think there’s enough time in the world to tell you ‘bout them.” 

At the mention of time, you glanced out one of the nearby windows, finding it nearly pitch black outside. Arthur glanced outside as well, an apologetic look on his face when his eyes went back on you. “You have to go, don’t you?”

“I’m ‘fraid so,” Arthur sighed. You were happy to see that his plate had been entirely cleared, and he finished off the last of the wine in his glass. Standing, you cleared the table, bringing the items over and setting them in the sink. Arthur followed in behind you, carrying the half-full bottle of wine.

“Thank you, again,” you heard Arthur say, and you waved him off.

“You don’t gotta keep thankin’ me, Arthur. It was truly my pleasure.”

“Do you need help cleain’-”

“Arthur! Go!” You laughed, shooing him away. “I got this.”

Conceding, he headed to the doorway, putting his shoes on. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his hat on the couch, about to be left behind. Quickly grabbing it, you set it on his head as he was leaning forward, securing his shoes. He let out a confused noise, but he smiled when he realized what you’d done. Standing up back at full height, he secured it on, flashing you a smile. “How’d I look?” He jested, a playful glint in his eye.

Like the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. “Like an outlaw,” you responded. “You just need a cigar or somethin’ and you’d really look like one.”

“That reminds me…” Arthur dug into a sachet strapped across his body. Once he found what he was looking for he presented it to you. It was a small silver lighter, which looked hilariously small in his hands. “Since your last one was a ‘piece of shit’, I figured you’d want a new one.”

“For me?” You asked and Arthur responded with a look that read uh, yeah?

“It ain’t much, I know-”

“Thank you!” You cut him off, beaming brightly at him. “It means a lot that you remembered.”

“Alright, well…” you watched as he rubbed the back of neck, not knowing how to respond to the praise, “have a good night, darlin’.”

“Stay safe, Arthur.”

With a final nod, Arthur left. You couldn’t decide if you wanted to laugh or cry, so you did neither, simply heading upstairs to your bedroom. Dishes could be done in the morning, you decided. 

Your mind raced as you got ready for the night. You knew he didn’t mean anything besides being nice with getting you the lighter, but it left your heart happy that someone not only listened to your grievances, small or large, and did something to fix them. 

Slipping under the sheets, you fiddled with it in your hands. You struck it, the spark catching almost immediately, creating a steady flame. Setting in on the nightstand beside you, you held on to the happiness you’d felt the entire night, and you fell asleep with a smile on your face.

You pretended to not feel a new sensation growing in your heart, something you wouldn’t dare name.

[fawnvelveteen]

Black silk taffeta dress from Emanuel & Black silk organza from Zandra Rhodes. Photos by Clive Arrowsmith.

Scanned by Miss Peelpants from Harpers and Queen, September 1980.

[joannasteez]

to the victors, go the spoils

pairing: cody rhodes x black reader x jey uso

summary/warning/authors note: after the win at fastlane, cody finds himself along with jey at your house, in your bed, enjoying the benefits of being champions. | you know what time it is, im givin smut but its always gon come with some description. explicit at that so minors dni! my first time writing them both so go easy on me ;) slowly becoming a cody girl >>>>

word count: 4.7k

text message | outgoing: nice match. great win. 

text message | cody rhodes: can the victor have his spoils?

text message | outgoing: if he plays nice, yes. 

text message | cody rhodes: i have a friend taggin' along, hows that for nice? 

text message | outgoing: sounds like fun

a small creeping shudder to your skin, this taunting twist of excitement and anticipation. you could feel, see even, from the dimly lit living room where you sat, that slow spreading smile of satisfaction he wore often. or rather, as often as you saw him. both ring side and bed side, cody rhodes, the one they called the american nightmare, had this subtly to him. this dapperness that caught your eye and the draw of your breath. he donned himself in suits and dressed his words in a similar likeness, but was never shy to dirty himself for the fun of it. 

it wasn't often that you saw him, but when he rolled through indiana for a match, he made his way, without fail, to your place. to see you. to talk, to touch, to kiss. to have his fill of fun before begrudgingly leaving. the smallest of pouts tainting his lips before leaving your door, and it's what you craved the most. the idea that you were too good to stay away from, too good to leave. he was a man of business, and you'd slowly, with time, made yourself apart of his business. something he'd need to tend to in an effort to keep close. 

he was patient and clever. at times devious. soft and sweet. always thinking of the next thing to leave you wondering. kind of something like now, as shea butter smooths over fine from hand to thrilled skin. who could his friend be? 

but jey uso feels the same way that you do, left to roam in a clueless sort of excitement. he's sobered enough to control his thoughts, his words less slurry than the way they were at the press conference. but his blood still rushes, and his head swims, this dull light rocking. like the pull in of morning waves. he wonders what you look like, how sweet your voice could be, and there it goes, a tingling in his fingers. his pants, the place right where his dick sits, half hard and almost ready. sounds like fun, your message had read, brief and not leaving much to the imagination. but he figured, if cody had driven so far away from the arena, then you were worth it. 

and "fuck me", the smallest mumble from jey's lips when you open the door to let them in. a champagne silk robe and even silkier looking skin. warm and brown under soft dim light. and that voice? a sly "hey", coyness there but still easy going. a damn angel. it was worth it. 

the tension in the silence is palpable. worthy of a knife. eyes cutting to and from. who'd say what and make the first move when. you pull the door wider, allowing them in, ignoring the heat of cody's blue eyes, deciding to take jey in instead. 

"when cody said a friend, i didn't think he'd be the main event".

jey's head tilts, turning to let his eyes fall everywhere it could. your face, the peak of cleavage, the painted baby pink of your toes. the sultry atmosphere of the house. you were prepared it seemed. his ego having no choice but to bloom. threatening to burst. "you a fan?" 

you shrug, a feigning of disinterest, but the warmth pooling your belly says different. because jey isn't all that shy about checking you out, curious eyes taking this slow trailing over the smaller details, looking, you assumed for the things he liked. and the space is thin between the two of you, taking his jacket, cologne heady. a gravitating thing. and to him you smell sweet, expensive. 

"i watch casually". 

and cody smiles at his genius, easing further into your house. reveling with comfortable steps at the short fused tension building between you and his new tag team partner. you're all but on your knees for jey and he's just only made it through the door."casual my ass. she knows every bit of my entrance music. word for damn word.

your eyes roll playful. hesitating to leave jey briefly before following cody to take his suit jacket."fuck you rhodes".

he mumbles a"you will", before needy hands pull you in, and the seam of his lips push into yours for a more than subtle kiss. tongue following after, smooth and controlling. you'd found in your times with him that a drink or two made him less patient. less willing to follow through with subtlety. he bit gentle and caressed with tough fingers that spurred on a sure to harshen pound that found its way to the crux of your thighs. he was buzzed maybe, but not nearly as drunk as he was at that conference. cheeks not as red and eyes not as glazed. you liked him like this, present enough to follow well through with his teasing. 

and as his lips break from yours, taking on the skin at your neck, your nails run through blonde hair. eyes looking for jey whose already moving closer. 

cody at your ear. "i missed you", suckling gentle just below your ear. "missed you so much i bought a friend for you to play with". 

"you're so good to me", a moan of sarcasm, pulling from him to grab jey. your steps setting off for the living room. 

cody disappears into a hallway, small bag in hand. his voice carrying on. "be nice. i'll be back".

the blunt you'd been pulling from before they came finds its way from an ash tray back between your fingers. but jey grabs easy at the lighter in time to hold it up for you. the spark just at the tip of it warm. you pull, a soft hallow of your cheeks that makes him wonder about other things, before the full inhale. you offer him the blunt and he takes it. touch faint enough that it urges the skin for more. 

"what's your poison jey?" he keeps the blunt between his fingers, feeding you the end to pull again. the smoke making for more heady air. "i've been told i mix drinks good". 

"nah i'm good right now". his eyes fixed on the fullness of your lips. "not tryna fuck around and over do it". 

you point over to the couch, watching his legs set wide and inviting as he sits. ending the burn of the blunt, you walk about the living room. loving the way his arms fall over the tops of the fine leather. he's settled in. that's good, you think.

"how you know cody?" 

"i'm a chef", you started. twisting the switch of another lamp not too far away to see more of his pretty face. "met him a while back at one of my restaurants". 

"oh yeah? one of?" a palm smoothening over the thick hair at his beard. eyeing your legs as you draw closer. "you got it like that?" 

"of course". 

just in front of him you pull the knot of your robe to reveal baby pink lace, and he stops with everything not to hiss with want. but waits instead, your body slotting over him to straddle his thighs. humming with a deep sigh as the nails of your fingers run down the broad width of his chest, before lifting to take purchase at the nape of his neck where the blue of his mullet sits. the hair curling and silky to the touch. cody a slight after thought as you push your lips in to ghost over jey's. this slow faint ride as you speak. 

"i like your eyes. they speak for you". 

"what they sayin?"

and it's what you expect the kiss to be, despite the tension, the heady way need pulses about skin and short lasting clever touch. until now of course, his hands more sure, spread wide and warm at your thighs. gentlemanly enough to kiss with patience, to test the taste of your lips before the slow roll in of tongue, and fuck, its a soft thickness. a deviously low groaning from his chest bleeding into where you hold at his cheeks, as he rushes in for more. 

jey builds as the seconds pour one into the other, his kiss a good sort of sloppy that makes your hips rut and your brain numb, but his hands, as big and damaging as they can be, don't grip too tight. caution like a weight, stifling the more vicious sort of pulling and prying you ache for. 

a whimper sounds from your throat , your hips grinding into his, needy for friction. "touch me how you want. i won't break". breathy but assured. 

and it's all he needs before his fingers grow hard and sharp into supple skin. something like the screwing in of nails. at your thighs, your ass, nearly ripping the stitch of the lace, till he's holding tight at your breast. lips dragging kisses over the ways of your neck, tongue peaking to taste as he goes, till they slip over wet, firm, your nipples tight as he swirls. another one of his moans stretching slow through your skin till it hits nerve. 

your hips work desperate more than anything, the texture of his jeans against the crotchless opening pushing at your slit. as he sucks, licks sloppy enough that his spit drips, you feel yourself growing messy. pussy wet and seeping on the less than soft fabric, on him.

and jey notices, of-fucking-course he notices. smirking devious at the way you fall apart on him already. another swat to already hot skin that makes you throb and hiss. "makin' a fuckin mess on me already". 

"just means i like you", smirking with him even in your haze. your fingers a comb through his hair as you bring him back to suck at you. missing the feeling already. 

and the way you get lost in him is easy. as he grabs and pulls and pinches. licks and kisses. 

footsteps a steady padding behind you, till they stop, and then your head is pulling back unhurried by a hand at your throat. the touch not jey's but demanding all the same. your eyes dim in their pleasure but open enough still to make out cody's face. his sharp features rounding out some at the edges of his jaw as he smiles. 

"open for me sweetheart".

and your lips part, tongue stretching out till you feel his spit drip at it. a satisfied hum strumming  your ears as he bends to peck your mouth. fingers squeezing at your throat to accompany the sensation of jey teasing his teeth at your nipples. sharp pullings that force out moans more broken than whole. 

"i think she's ready for more", cody announces. blue eyes glazing over with this fine layer of lust as he trails slow over you. 

and that giddy way your nerves had split and reformed, splitting to come together again, over and over, after reading cody's text messages, has turned now into something new as your body dips soft into the bed, awaiting more of whatever they have for you. this steady rushing in your blood, frenzied and never ending. and they stare you down in this connected way, hunters after prey, toothy grins and lusty eyes as they guide your body. thighs snugging in jey's head and your knees nailed into the cushion of the bed, his tongue dipping into the soaked mess of your pussy as you attempt to settle into sitting on his face. 

and cody, all lean muscle and fire in the icy blue of his eyes, licking rough into your mouth to take advantage of the sloppy moving your lips take to return his kisses. your own head swimming, high off of the ache twisting at your core from the way jey sucks at your needy clit. his tongue moving, no where near desperate, but eager, determined to drive you to madness. and you like the toughness of them both, the harsher touches and grips to the skin, so when he swats hard at your ass again and feels you drip in his mouth, he groans satisfied. excited. 

his palm comes down, again and again, breaking pleasure into thick skin till you whimper and shiver, lips suckling sweet all the same.

you hiss at the stinging, waiting for that inevitable sinking in of heat as jey caresses where he strikes. something like a gentle storm every time he meets your flesh. harsh and soothing all the same, with these slip ins of pleasure, tongue flat and licking broad at your slit. 

a laugh bristles your skin, just at your forehead, hands trembling and useless as they attempt to pull away cody's pants. you whine, pleading, and he takes a minute from his amusement to do away with the rest of his clothes, springing up hard and warm against your skin. 

another spank rips into raw skin, and you feel the ripple of it at your clit. coaxes your eyes to roll. 

cody thinks he's never seen you so taken by pleasure. ardor sweet off your skin. your touch warm and firm as you fix yourself to stroking the deep pink of his tip. a grunt toppling from him as you let spit string out wet and lazy from between kiss swollen lips. "so damn pretty", he huffs. savoring the slow pull in you take of his cock. 

and your tongue is all silk and gentle touch. a warmth he's missed since his last visit to indiana. but he's patient about getting what he wants, pulls up a foot to sit on the bed for better steadying and lets you work him at a leisure pass. one of his hands unrelenting as it swats at your thigh. "you like a little pain, don't you angel?", voice rasped and a bit dazed. 

"yes", feathered and faint. 

heat overflowing in your cheeks, hips rutting at the flat lay of jey's tongue. a thick finger finding its way to slip into you as you grind wild at him. chasing the release that comes after the vicious knotting in your core. and the sound of the room is lewd, silence burdened by the soft squelch of tongues and the urgent push in of warm taut fingers. jey lavishes you like the taste is heaven sent. something once in a lifetime. like one moment away from the soaked mess of you will do him in to an endless suffering. and for as much as it's worth, your palm grips as the other digs into the sheets, to press in a squeeze against the weight of cody's balls. mouth a sweet suck at the harsh reddened tip of him. 

your words reach out as nothing more than a breath. a quick "oh fuck", that badly sums up the building of tension. hips nearly smothering jey as cody takes your mouth to kiss, a hand at your neck again, swallowing moans and that faithful ability to breathe. the throb in your spine grows ruthless and the spasm of your clit nearly splits your ears. vision blurred as you fight for composure amongst the rage of release. 

the room taking this lax spin, their eagerness driving them to lay you down easy. your legs spreading despite the ache. moaning soft and satisfied, blissed as fingers slip gentle through your slit with a slight shake. simply to savor and prolong even the rush in your blood. a delicate fondling to spread your lower lips, peeling back to reveal, like the prettiest flowers in bloom. the grin pulling along your lips a gentle teasing seduction. and of course the mere way you play with yourself  doesn't compare to jey, that slow thick push in, his strokes measured but yours sloppy, ministrations drunk off the heat of hungry gazes. 

but it's not hard, getting lost in you. your taste, skin supple and balmy. so easy to hold, to melt into. it's no wonder cody travels so far when he's here. jey would to, wants to after this, but even the thought of leaving is a disappointing one. he just wants to stay here, watch you work your way into delirium. wants to help you get there even, losing the rest of his clothes and bringing himself back to you till his knees sink into the bed.

you meet him, your eyes to his. moaning excited, the heaviness of him taking a steady slip over your slit. "pictures last longer"

he doesn't rush. leans his palm into the back of your thigh to spread you more. "Mhmm", leaning down to kiss you, tongue sweeping through for good measure. "Keep talkin' that shit". 

you comb through the blue of his mullet, savoring his mouth, before letting him go. "it's ok to be a fan y'know?" cody brings himself just at your side, thumbs taking to caressing the taut sensitive twist of your nipples. mouth taking purchase at that place just below you ear that seems to be home for him. you cradle him close, senses on the verge of being driven to overstimulation. "cody has me used to the attention". 

"m' sure he does", and jey gets why, every inch of you leaving his blood to rush fast and loose, tipsy off just the idea of digging into you. the fat tip of his dick pushing patient at you, a steady press of his hips, almost reverential in the way he lets you pull him in. inch by sweet inch. "you feel too good not to pay attention to". fire in his fingers, imprinting into the memory of your muscles an ache that only comes otherwise in the most lucid of dreams. you feel, as your lip suffers from the bite of your teeth, that this is once in a lifetime. the stretch, the look of him, your skin being this endless playground for kisses, for men to roam and adore, and fuck, you're sure he's nearly split you to fit. wet still but warm and hugging. but it drives him just as crazy, hips rutting with a mind of their own, seeking pleasure fast, despite his wants to draw out the pleasure. "you holdin' me tight like you been needin' me huh?" 

you whine. "jey". stunned. overwhelmed. pleading "please", but for what you don't know. you just need it.

he can't help but laugh. and it's deep and full of ego. cody joining, warm breath fighting its way under damp skin.  

jey moves only slightly, lifting your leg and shifting to sink deeper.  your back curling with a throb, forcing your breast to push further into cody's mouth. the cruelest, sweetest, chain reaction. 

he huffs, pulls his hips away just enough to tease his tip at the tight ring of your entrance, and the stretch feels new once again, and then again still, good and splitting as nerve breaks and cleaves open. raw and tender to the touch. 

"i get in this pussy and you go speechless".

"shit", whiny. 

"c'mon mama, talk that shit", finding a rhythm, a tempo. something steady enough that it feels too good. so much so that your nails fall at where he meets you to push him away. a miserable try and fail at quelling pleasure. "stay with me baby", voice satin smooth. "m' right here. stay with me". not wanting you to escape him. not without what he'd come all this way for, not without what you needed. 

with a lazy pop of his lips, teeth driving sharp but faint at a taut sensitive nipple, cody traces deft. intention clever as he covers the course of your body, down pass your navel till your clits held swollen and throbbing in between his fingers. he pinches firm, till he gets the moan that he's looking for. the one that drags and whines, stresses out in pleasure so much that it dresses itself as pained. but he knows you well, enough to know that you can take a little plain, a little bite with your bliss. because it only makes your wetter, more pliant. 

and the swell of release is easier to coax out now, a mere snap at your core that hitches breath and spasm's your bones. it'd been something a little more put together before, these sweet drops of arousal at his tongue as you rutted and worked yourself to finish. but now it was something messy. uninhibited and wild. a lusty flood that coats him in a soft creamy white. jey lurches, his hips taking to uncontrolled thrust, moving mindless and raw. deeper to bed himself in the tight vice of you. 

it's addicting, words slurring, running away from him. "goddamn girl, you feel so fucking- fuck!... so good". 

and he thinks he doesn't want to leave, watching you melt into the fine thread of bed sheets. blissed out and breathing heavy. splayed and vulnerable, like some delicate, fierce painting. cody continuing a steady onslaught at your clit. you whine and shiver, high off thrill as your fingertips dig behind the meat of your thighs to keep your legs opened for him. needy still for the fill of him. arousal a mess that leeks its way to the bedsheets. and jey thinks, that when he's good and through, he'll dip his tongue back in you, have you come undone again off his touch till the sun breaks against the horizon. you'll do then as you do now, unraveling untamed as you come, moaning and writhing till you're nothing but a thing to chant his name. 

you'll praise him, tell him how good he is, how good you want to be for him. it'll resound, faithful and messy. slurred by pleasure as you go dumb from the deep pound of his dick. you'll be like what you are now, the perfect spoil for a champion. 

jey feels his core knot up, a twisted burn that scorches out to every inch that he can feel, till he's twitching violent and coming hard. the mess he's made leaking slow, a warm pooling out that he strokes back in. just enough to feel you throb for him one more time.

jey moves then, after he catches his breath, commits the daze of your eyes to memory and settles for watching the break of cody's trim demeanor. this meticulous sort of care for his disposition done away with, once he's had you in his arms. and though cody has abandoned his suits and ties on plenty of occasions to scrap and rumble with men twice his size, only you in recent times, have seen the softness under the shell of him. 

jey takes to laying lazy at the head of the bed, your mouth just inches away from the messy slick you'd made of his dick, as cody pushes a deep arch into your spine. every inch he touches is every inch that throbs with a pulse and with heat. an ache that threatens a breaking, but really its just that beautiful burn of muscle. the blooming of a flame that eats at tension and the hesitancy that comes with distance, because cody had longed for you for some time. to slip his skin against yours, till you'd grown mute from satiation. 

he throbs at the thought even, to feel you tremble about him the way you'd done so messily for jey already, his eyes a cold blue but still scorched with need the way he bares down on you. a stare that fights into your skin, makes you clit flutter with anticipation. 

cody groans, stroking himself. "spread for me angel", and you do just that. face dug into the sheets just inches away from the inner part of jey's thigh, nails pulling at your ass till your lower lips spread. you clench and unclench, again and again, anticipating, and then you moan needy, mindless, cody tapping his tip at the fat of your clit. "there you go", raspy and praising, before he slips easy into the mess of you. grin forming small through his perfect teeth, satisfied. feeling at home. 

and he takes his time, takes the place of your hands as he holds to keep you spread, mesmerized by the wet strokes he gives against the soft pull of your pussy. fucked already, but needing to be fucked still. and he loved these things about you, the width of your wants and that insatiable streak of fulfilling them.

your lips reach for jey, wet kisses at his thigh till you reach to dip your tongue at his slick tip. tasting the mess you'd made together. a fine back and forth between a sweet suckling and these little delicate kitten licks. and he lets you do as you please, enjoying the gentle attention. caressing your jaw even as you move about him. eyes dim and delirious. 

"he made of mess of you, huh sweetheart?", his hips moving deft. ears pricked hot and twitching at the sound of his every stroke. a salacious soaked smacking that drives him further, deeper, till he's buried to the hilt. 

cody throbs warm in you as he takes you. mouth trembly as you give him a not so simple "yeah", your hips pushing to fuck on him. 

and it's not so simple because your nerves continue to split and grow more raw by the second. overstimulated but somehow wanting more. begging filthy and impatient. 

but he meets the demand, guiding you by the nape of your neck till you're upright, knees wider and burying further into the sheets. his hands form harsh against your breast, pinching and pulling to his content, breath erratic at your ear as he fucks you seemingly deeper than before. pussy a dewy mess, his dick nudging and persistent to feel you drool and spasm for him.

and he kisses at your exposed shoulder, hips a ways away from brutal but his lips bloom at your damp skin in gentle ways that leave you feeling drunk. his tongue and teeth licking and nipping, moaning at the tight cling of you. cody revels in the ways that plains of your skin mold into his. a balmy, tender, pressing in that forces his heart to flutter and his mind to numb. grow delirious with thoughts and ideas not so amorous, that lend themselves to a seriousness that comes with sobered talks and resolute feelings. 

you lay forward again, face nudging into the sheets. jey's eyes a sharp focus at your face, at your mouth as it opens, jaw dropped some in a silent euphoria. his hand pulling at his dick with simple lazy strokes. feeling a slow to form stir as he watches cody fuck you. 

"fuck i-", you attempt to speak, the knot in your gut threatening to burst at the seams. "right there, please". 

and cody obliges, steady's his rhythm to something that builds the both of you to bliss, the knock of his hips coaxing you to drip more. your slit dewy and slick as a finger rolls over the twitch of your clit. 

"such nice, pretty manners when you wanna come", he groans, chuckling wry in a dazed sort of amusement. because he knows you, knows the patterns of your pleasure and your needs. the things you say and how you say them, when you tease and when you beg. how your precision grows weak at the feel of an assured touch. his hand swatting quick, the flesh at your ass rippling, the grip of your heat growing tighter, letting him know you're just near release. on the brink of it actually. 

"give it to me, come in me". rushed and whiny. breath short. 

"oh...shit!"

cody's waist snaps. pounds out as you come undone and spasm hard. a feverish shake in your legs as you pull all strength in you to roll your hips into him till he falls into a wild take of bliss. the hard thrumming in his blood spreading till his chest pounds and his fingers twitch. his spend dripping warm as it seeps out. and in his daze, he rubs his thumb through it to soothe over your clit, prolonging the throb there.

"fuck thats so good. thank you", a soft whimper into the tear stains of the sheets. fluttering still but sated. your sayings slurred and brain dizzy in the thrill of release. 

[caramelcleopatraa]

Just imagine… Cody Rhodes

Just imagine Cody Rhodes stroking himself to his favorite cam girl, you. Your hypnotizing body left him in a trance. Those beautiful salacious moans were his favorite sound. Your soft hands rubbing your clit made him imagine what they would feel like wrapped around like his dick. He watched your every movement, eyes glued to the screen. He had been painfully hard on his way home, receiving the notification that you were going live halfway through his drive home. And he rushed home, making it just in time after you talked to your viewers for a little bit. Opening his laptop and joining the live to see your legs spread and pussy glittering from your wetness. 

“Fuck, I’m so close daddy!” Those screams of pleasure and the image of you fingering yourself had him responding back to you. “Come for me baby, I’m coming too,” he huffs, clutching onto the sheets and moaning into oblivion. Ropes of cum spill from his tip and drip down his shaft, reaching his balls. His euphoric orgasm made him buck his hips as pleasure ripped through his body. He looks over at you on his computer screen, seeing you out of breath as well as him, cum dripping onto your silk sheets. Your lives were going to be the death of him. It was so addicting watching your body shake, your pleads and begs as you came. But as soon as he thought you were done, he saw your hand slowly teasing your folds. “More, I need more.” Unconsciously, his hand moves up and down his length, giving him overwhelming waves of overstimulation. He’s never going to stop watching his favorite cam girl.

🏷️ tags :) @reignsboy19 @2-muchsauce @theninthwonder @harmshake @alichesmi @thesamoanqueen @alyyaanna @empressdede @badbitchcentralinc @christinabae @fame-ass-ers @southerngirl41 @cyberdejos2 @murrylove @sassginaswanmills @pixiedust4000

[mybeingthere]

Billie Zangewa (born in 1973 in Malawi, lives in Johannesburg, South Africa) is a Malawian artist who hand sews silk fabrics to create collage tapestries.

Billie graduated with a Bachelors of Fine Arts from Rhodes University, South Africa after studying printmaking. Her mother worked in the textiles industry on sewing and embroidery. As a child she witnessed the bond between her mother and other women as they sewed, along with other domestic tasks together, which would influence the themes of motherhood in her work. In her artistic training, she tested several modes of expression, but finally became passionate about the work of silk, both because of her interest in the fabrics, its luminosity and reflective qualities. She indicated that: "Silk has a fabulous quality of reflection but at the same time, I think it is very modern and at the forefront of fashion".

Zangewa's early textile work consisted of the production of patchwork handbags, using scenes taken from the city of Johannesburg. When the artist first started creating the larger-scale collages she is now well known for, she more heavily relied on the usage of text, images with a pop art influence, and, sometimes, effects including embroidery, beads, and mats on the surface of the fabric.

Billie Zangewa works primarily with raw silk offcuts in intricate hand-stitched collages, creating figurative compositions that explore her intersectional identity in the contemporary context and challenge the historical stereotyping, objectification and exploitation of the black female body.

[bullet-prooflove]

for the NSFW alphabet

B-E-N-Q for Connor Rhodes and Jimmy Lanik, if that's not too much?

Thank you!

B - Bondage (do they like it? do they not? do they prefer to be the one being tied or the one doing the tying?) 

Connor is very into it so much so he’s invested in some high quality items. He wants his lover to be as comfortable as he is.

He’s a subby boi at heart, he loves being restrained, having his control stripped away from him. He works a very high pressure job and this is an excellent release for him. He doesn’t have to make any decisions and he enjoys feeling like he belongs to someone else, that he can trust them to take care of him.

I can’t see him being in blindfolds or gags, I think that would be a little too frightening for him. The idea of having no voice or agency takes him back to a very dark place.

E - Extra info (any other fetishes? feet? leather? role playing? blood? fantasies that they might want to experience not on this list?)

Sometimes he needs it a little rough. I think the only way to survive the job he does is to numb himself sometimes and it can be very hard to get out of that mindset so he needs it to get a little extreme.

I’m thinking a pinwheel or riding crop. I could see him telling a lover they need to press down harder when they use the pinwheel because he needs the pain it causes a little more than the pleasure it brings. The riding crop on his ass and the backs of his thighs. Gets him super excited if he’s on his knees, hands cuffed behind his back and you use the riding crop up tip his chin up to meet your gaze. He leaks all over the place.

N - Not yet (orgasm delay? orgasm denial? do they tell their partner not to touch themselves for a certain amount of time or under certain circumstances? do they delay or deny other things like bathroom usage or food? do they need to beg first? do they like being denied / delayed?) 

Only in the bedroom and it’s always you denying him. When he’s in a subby head space he’s yours entirely, he comes when you  say he can come and will hold off until you’re ready for him. It gets him off when you tell him ‘not yet, you need to make me come first.’ The act of holding back is exhilarating for him, especially when you tell him how much of a good boi he’s being for you.

Will never deny you anything at all. He’s all about showing you how good he is for you, how he can get you off like no other man you’ve been with. Expect to be overstimulated with Connor, one is never enough.

Q - Quiet please (what’s the volume like in the bedroom? are they quiet? do they scream? do they like a loud partner? do they prefer if their partner is more soft spoken?)

I think he’s quiet, like deep moans, grinding teeth and stuttered breathing. Loads of swearing if it’s a particularly powerful orgasm. When your being dominant with him you always talk in a soft, tender tone and he loves it.

Connor makes it his mission to get you a little loud. He wants the neighbours to know how good he’s fucking you.

B - Bondage (do they like it? do they not? do they prefer to be the one being tied or the one doing the tying?) 

Another one who used bondage to relax, although Jimmy prefers to be the person doing the tying. He needs to take control sometimes because his job snatches it away. He usually uses one of his to bind your wrists and a silk scarf to blind fold you. He never gags you because he loves running his thumb over the shape of your lips and he wants to hear every single sound you make. He takes hours teasing you, bring you to climax before he stops and starts all over again.

You use restraints as a way to get Jimmy to relax, he would work himself into the ground if you let him. Again it’s always on of his ties, it usually starts with a game of ‘Please’ you tease him mercilessly until he says the word and it goes for a while because he’s so stubborn, it gets him out of his head into the moment with you which is the purpose of it.

E - Extra info (any other fetishes? feet? leather? role playing? blood? fantasies that they might want to experience not on this list?)

You wearing one of his shirts is one of his biggest turn ons. Sometimes when you want to rile him, you’ll wear one to work and send him pictures, he always asks for more, directing you to unbutton it slowly on the video you send.

N - Not yet (orgasm delay? orgasm denial? do they tell their partner not to touch themselves for a certain amount of time or under certain circumstances? do they delay or deny other things like bathroom usage or food? do they need to beg first? do they like being denied / delayed?) 

Jimmy will deny you as long as he can, he wants that big finish, that crescendo. He wants the neighbours banging on the walls because he’s making his woman come so hard she can’t control the noise she makes. Also Jimmy knows it’s the only way to get you out of your own head, the two of you are alike that way, he wants to keep you in that space for as long a possible.

It works vice versa too.

Q - Quiet please (what’s the volume like in the bedroom? are they quiet? do they scream? do they like a loud partner? do they prefer if their partner is more soft spoken?)

The neighbours fucking hate the two of you. All those denial makes for loud orgasms when it does eventually happen and you can’t hold back.

Jimmy is all whimpers and heavy breathing right up until he gets to the point of climax and that it’s just your name chanted over and over and over again until he’s coming in your mouth. It’s literally how the old lady across the hall knows your name.

[whydontyousaeso]

“Better in person”

You live as a cam girl, you always had made your money that way. But how does it end up when one of your top fans, and a pro wrestler, gets a date with you?

Warnings- SMUT!!! MINORS DNI!!!! Semi public sex, cam girl au (if that’s even needed)

A/n- first work to be posted here! Honestly pretty excited for what you guys think. Feel free to reblog and like, and my request are still open! Love you guys and merry Christmas!

You sat down your keys and walked into your bathroom, checking the time on your phone.

3:30

That’s good, that meant that you had 2 hours to get ready. One of your top fans had won a date with you, and while you were excited, you were nervous too. You’ve never been out on a date with anyone, so this would be new to you.

You jumped in the shower, deep washing your hair and doing your entire body clean. You knew he had high expectations, any man who payed thousands of dollars to see you naked had high expectations.

His username was rh0d3y, he had told you in conversations and private video calls that he was well off money wise, so he would make sure you were taken care of on the date.

Not that you needed it, but it was always appreciated.

By the time you finished your shower and your hair, it was almost 5. You sent him a quick text, making sure he was still good for tonight.

“Hey rh0d3y, hope you still good for tonight?”

“Of course, I’ve been thinking about it all day. Which dress will you be wearing?”

“Whichever one you want, I have some different silk dresses if you want me to wear one of them.”

“If you have a blue one wear that one, if not wear red”

“I have blue, I’ll use that one then ;)”

“Great, also the reservation will be under ‘rhodes’”

You gave his last message a thumbs up and walked into your closet, pulling out the dark blue dress you had told him about. It came down to your mid thigh when you sat down, and was a sleeveless top along with it. It wasn’t one you could wear a bra with, due to the spaghetti straps, but it wasn’t like you planned to need it anyways.

You threw on your matching underwear, a dark blue lace pair, and slipped into the dress, looking at yourself in the mirror. You debated sending a picture to him, but decided against it. You slipped your heels on and touched up your makeup, slipping a lip gloss into your purse. It was time to go, damn you were nervous.

when you got to the restaurant you were able to skip the line of people waiting and go straight to the front desk. “Hi, do you have a reservation?” The lady at the front asked, “I don’t, but my date does, it’ll be under Rhodes?” The girl tapped the screen and smiled, “of course! Follow me, he’s in one of our private rooms.”

Private rooms? You weren’t aware that they existed in the restaurant. As she lead you back a tightness started in your stomach, you couldn’t tell if it was excitement, nervousness, or just straight up lust. You hadn’t really seen him before, so for all you know it could be a 70 year old man waiting for you.

You were quickly proven wrong though. As soon as she opened the door you were greeted by a young man smoking a cigar. You saw his eyes light up as he stood up quickly. “Here you go ma’am, just let us know when you’re ready to order.” You smiled and nodded as she walked away, making your way in the room.

“Rhodes?” You asked the tall blond, “you don’t have to call me that, feel free to call me Cody dear.” The tightness in your stomach worsened, it was obvious what it was now. You nodded once more, sitting down across from him. You watched the way he moved, the way his blue suit hugged every muscle of his. It was almost unfair that he had hid this amazing body from you.

“So what do you do for a living Cody?” You asked, taking a sip from the water they had set out. “I’m a professional wrestler, like for wwe.”

“Oh really? You’re gonna have to take me to one of your shows, I’m interested now.” He smiled, looking at your outfit, only then did you realize that you were matching colors. “The dress looks amazing on you, blue really suits you” you saw his eyes darken as he looked you over.

“I’m sure it looks better up close, if you want to see.” You slid out of the booth, walking over to his side. Almost instinctively he turned towards you, opening his lap for you to sit on. You straddled one of his legs, placing your hands on his broad shoulders. One of his hands went to your waist while the other went to your thigh, squeezing both lightly.

“You look better in person than you do on camera.” He mumbled, leaning up to press his lips against yours. You moved on of your hands to his cheek, deepening the kiss and pulling his face towards yours. You felt his hands go to your ass, grabbing hard. You arched your back and moaned, pressing your breast up against his chest. He pulled away momentarily, dragging your straps down your arms, slowly exposing your tits. “I don’t even know where to start…”

“Well what are your options?”

“Fucking you dumb right now or going slow and taking my time with your body.”

“I think I know which one you want.”

He laughed, turning both of you around and laying you down on the booth. You moaned softly as the cold leather hit your bare back. You watched as Cody started taking off his jacket, but you grabbed his arm. “Don’t take it off, leave it on.”

He smirked and leaned back down, rubbing his hand up your thigh, higher and higher. “Mmm, Cody please”

“Shhhh it’s okay, I’m getting there baby girl trust me.”

You felt his hand remove from your thighs and whined. “Hey hey calm down baby girl, I’m about to give you what you want I promise.” He mumbled against your lips as you felt him undo his belt buckle, it didn’t take but a second for you to feel his dick on your clothed cunt.

“You ready darling?” He asked, moving your underwear to the side. You simply nodded and bit your lip, sure you had sex before, but nothing like this. You knew it was going to be good the moment he grabbed your waist.

He slammed into you, both of you letting out deep groans and loud moans. “God, are you always this tight?” You bit your lip and shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut as he slammed his hips into yours.

He gripped your thigh, pulling it higher up to go deeper. You were seeing stars just with him thrusting, you could only imagine what the climax was going to feel like. Not that you were going to have to wait long, he knew what he was doing.

You were lucky enough to snap out of the self pleasure mindset that you were in and snap back to reality, opening your eyes to see Cody hunched over you, mumbling dirty words and phrases in your ear. You reached around his broad figure and dug your nails into his back, hearing him chuckle.

“Is this better then any of the little toys I see you use to play with yourself? I bet it is, isn’t it?”

You could only let out little gasps for air, leaving red marks behind on his back. Your mind was foggy, and your eyes were starting to tear up. You’ve never had an orgasm that made you pass out, but today might actually be the day.

“I hope you don’t mind me cumming quick baby, if you got me on a good day we would keep this going for hours.” He grunted as he sat up to look at you.

“Just cum, please” that was all you could mumble through your hazy mind and teary eyes. You felt the tightness in your stomach become unbearable, something that had never happened before. You closed your eyes and let it snap, releasing all your fluids that had built up, causing you to scream from the extreme pleasure.

You couldn’t hear his mutterings, or see the way he bit his lip and slammed into you deeper then ever, releasing his own spurts into you. It took you everything to stay awake, you were exhausted. As both of you panted and tried to catch your breath you heard a chuckle from him.

“So would you like to start off with an appetizer darling?”

[milksockets]

'silk jersey wedding dress by zandra rhodes, london, 1977' in the wedding dress: 300 years of bridal fashions - edwina ehrman (2011)

[publicdomainreview]

In 1856, a 17-year-old woman from Rhode Island embarked an a unique and brilliant project. She gathered autographed pieces of silk from hundreds of celebrities (including Dickens, Emerson, and Lincoln) and incorporated them into a stunning quilt: https://publicdomainreview.org/collection/adeline-harris-sears-autographs-quilt-1856-ca-1863

[daughter-of-melpomene]

𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐥 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭/𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭.

given that i’ve just revamped my marvel ocs, i figured it was time to share the casting for my personal version of the mcu! please note that this is a combination of my own ideas for recasts and popular castings that i’ve seen on other platforms, and also that not every character has been included here because there are several that i like with the actors currently portraying them. you all can definitely feel free to use any and all of these for yourselves!

scott eastwood — steve rogers a.k.a. captain america.

pedro pascal — tony stark a.k.a. iron man.

boyd holbrook — clint barton a.k.a. hawkeye.

marina alexandrova — natasha romanoff a.k.a. black widow.

gratiela brancusi — wanda maximoff a.k.a. scarlet witch.

jesús castro — pietro maximoff a.k.a. quicksilver.

ian anthony dale — stephen strange a.k.a. doctor strange.

michael ealy — james “rhodey” rhodes a.k.a. war machine.

lana condor — gwen stacy.

charlie rowe — harry osborn.

sydney park — cindy moon a.k.a. silk.

christian kane — logan howlett a.k.a. wolverine.

kirby howell-baptiste — ororo munroe a.k.a. storm.

jesse spencer — scott summers a.k.a. cyclops.

sophie skelton — jean grey a.k.a. marvel girl.

elizabeth lail — raven darkhölme a.k.a. mystique.

cody fern — warren worthington the third a.k.a. angel.

stephen lang — erik lensherr a.k.a. magneto.

rowan blanchard — kitty pride a.k.a. shadowcat.

caity lotz — emma frost a.k.a. white queen.

ryan hurst — victor creed a.k.a. sabretooth.

john krasinski — reed richards a.k.a. mr. fantastic.

emily blunt — susan “sue” storm a.k.a. the invisible woman.

rudy pankow — johnny storm a.k.a. the human torch.

temura morrison — ben grimm a.k.a. the thing.

tagging @endless-oc-creations, @ginevrastilinski-ocs, and @dancingsunflowers-ocs because they’re my marvel girlies so they might find these useful!!