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reiderwriter · 7 months ago

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🫂 Transference 🫂

Pairing: Spencer Reid x virgin!Fem Reader

For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge 2024

Summary: He saves your life, and he keeps saving it every day, but Spencer won't let you love him until you finally beg him to. Is transference really that much of an issue?

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, Mentions of Case details - reader is the unsub victim, mentions of rape and attempted rape, gunshot, death, kidnapping, imprisonment, parental neglect, abandonment, loss of virginity (positive), semi-public sex, bathroom sex, fingering, penetrative sex (p in v), missionary, praise kink (good girl), moaning kink (?), safe sex, slight cum play/ oral, aftercare.

A/N: I wrote a virgin reader fic for kinktober that people loved a lot (thank you all!), and I had a lot of requests for something similar, so please - enjoy!

Masterlist || Bingo Board

You'd met him at the library, as if the world wanted you to forever associate the comfort you found in between the pages of a worn book with the man that tried to end your life. At first, you'd thought it a coincidence, then he'd flashed a smile at you, and you'd believed it to be fate, drawn in by the charm he wore as a disguise.

Your first date was sweet, flowers and dinner. Your second date was sweeter, and they kept on that way. Sugar dropped into your ears until you were floating on cloud nine, right as he turned his charm off.

“Really?” He started one day, his tone accusing from the get-go.

“What?”

“You're really going to eye fuck that man in front of me?” His voice was loud enough to catch notice in the small café you'd joined him in for the morning, and all the life drained out of your face.

“I'm not- what?”

“No, forget it,” he chuffed, taking another sip of his drink and turning away from you.

You noticed it more and more from then on, how he would accuse you of small things like looking at other men, like you had the choice to ignore them when they were shop clerks, bus drivers and just fucking people living their lives.

Your friends were even weirded out when you joked with them about it, telling them all about your silly boyfriend who ripped a poster off your wall because it had some actor or singer or something on it. It wasn't even that important to you, but as you laughed, you were greeted with silence, with sideways glances and concerning questions.

It was all starting to crumble, and there was nothing you could do to stop it but cling on.

The next thing was his pushiness. You'd been up front with him at the beginning of the relationship that you were a virgin, something that he was more than happy about.

He'd said it was because he was a man of God, and he understood your commitment, which confused you as you weren't a virgin for religious reasons. But you brushed it off as everything else about him was so… gentlemanly?

Until he started pushing his hands up your thighs when he kissed you. He tried multiple times to push his fingers into your underwear as you tried to pull back, each time apologizing immediately when you displayed more panicked displeasure.

“I'm sorry, something must have… The devil got to me for a second there, Y/N, but I won't let him win.” He kissed the top of your head, and he walked you to your door before giving you another chaste kiss and leaving.

They found the first body the next morning.

She was young, maybe 16 or 17. Beaten, raped, mutilated, and asphyxiated. They said he'd kept raping her body long after she'd taken her last breath. It took them two weeks to notify her parents because of the way he'd left her.

You'd watched the news report the same week with your boyfriend, shocked and horrified at the news and cuddling closer to him for comfort.

Each step you came closer to him, each time you allowed him to touch you, he took it as a sign of his ownership, his claim on you. Not a single other person could get in between him and his prize. Each time you rejected him, he killed another girl.

By body five, they'd called in the BAU.

“Did you hear they're bringing in the FBI to solve that Cathy Renaud case? It's all over the news. Apparently, the team is super special.”

You'd brought up the words while cooking him breakfast. He didn't live with you, but any good girlfriend would feed their man, so he woke you up every day on his way to work to let you prepare him something.

His whole attention was on his phone, though, as he nodded through your conversation, grunting and moaning at each word.

It was only when you brought him his plate of pancakes that you realized that he was just as interested in the subject as you were. Because he was staring at the photos of the girl he mutilated the night before.

You didn't want to think about everything that happened after that. After the plate fell to the floor and cracked, splintering into your foot and causing you your first injury in a long line.

You didn't want to think about the things he showed you, the way he touched you, or at least tried to. You heaved and wretched and emptied your stomach every single time you thought about the restraints on your wrists, how he'd tried to rape you but couldn't bring himself to do it because you weren't young enough anymore. You weren't dead enough.

Instead, every time you thought back to that week, you found yourself back at the end. You replayed the bullet lodging into his brain as a comfort, which told you more than you needed to know about your mental state. It was Spencer Reid who'd shot him. He'd been quick enough to realize that the man would never have been talked down, and he'd fired the shot as a mercy to you. He may have killed your boyfriend, putting him down like he was a sick animal, but you were the one put out of your misery.

He didn't stop to watch the body hit the floor before falling to your side, the other agents clearing the room and checking the corpse. He'd helped you to your feet, drawn an arm around your waist and pushed your head into his chest so you didn't have to see the carnage on the way out, didn't have to deal with the camera flashes as the press scrambled for pictures of the monster's willing victim.

“One step at a time, this isn't your fault. Just stick with me,” he said, moving you from the house to a waiting van as you clasped his vest desperately, needing the lifeline he'd thrown you.

“Ma'am, ma'am. I'm a paramedic, I won't hurt you, I just need to take your vitals, make sure you're okay.”

The voice was vague and in the distance, and you were so sure it wasn't directed at you that you simply let yourself wrap around the man who'd saved you when you got to the ambulance. Nothing else was around but his chest, his hand on your back, your legs wrapped around him as they finally gave out.

“Ma'am… Please, you're injured-”

“Y/N,” he spoke finally, and you grabbed him tighter, nails digging into the skin at his neck.

“You're Y/N, right? We've been looking for you for a long time. I'm not going anywhere, I won't let anyone hurt you.”

The words were enough to reassure you, pulling back slightly as the paramedics began working on you, but not enough for you to embrace their touch. You clambered away from the paramedic the moment you saw he was a man, close in build and coloring to the corpse in the building behind you.

You screamed, you cried, you pounded at the doors as Spencer held to you him, letting the paramedics sedate you, rocking you to sleep on the step of the emergency vehicle.

He was by your bedside every time you woke up, too. It was funny seeing him there when you still didn't know his name. Your parents hadn't visited, too ashamed to be associated with the entire thing to even check in on you.

He had himself assigned your emergency contact after six days of your parents not showing up. In all that time, he'd sat patiently by your side as you wailed and raged and went numb, and the cycle repeated itself in perpetuity.

He was there, too, with a bag of clothes and a fresh start waiting for you when you were ready to be discharged.

His team had since moved on to another criminal of the week, putting the lives lost behind them as they traipsed through more cases and corpses and killers. He was still there, though. Somehow.

You were old enough to be able to discharge yourself from a hospital, old enough to not need a guardian to take care of you. Spencer stayed anyway, and you didn't bother asking why.

“I don't want to leave the hospital,” you said, climbing back into the bed you'd forced yourself into for the last week. The same bed where the nurse had ran your rape kit even after you'd told her he'd never touched you like that, after you'd explained and denied and shouted to high hell that no-one had touched you like that and she sure as hell wasn't going to be the first.

Spencer had put a stop to the traumatic experience when he'd returned with your coffee, always picking up something for you when he went out.

The nurse had gripped and moaned and murmured an apology, and you knew you'd not been an easy patient, but you couldn't bring yourself to feel bad about it.

That didn't mean you wanted to leave yet, though.

“I can't leave, I have nowhere to live.”

“Y/N, you can't stay here forever.”

“Spencer, I can't go home. My apartment is a crime scene, I almost died there, and there are reporters posted there 247 waiting for me to come back. They think I'm evil, they-”

“They think you're a victim,” he said calmly but firmly, cutting you off before you could spiral again. “Which you are. And you'll be a victim forever if you don't get out of that hospital bed and start moving on.”

He dumped a bag on your bed, a bag you recognised as one of your own overnight bags from your apartment. He looked at you again, the question in his silence.

Are you going to keep being his victim?

You huffed as you got out of your bed, throwing off the covers and standing in front of him. He didn't budge.

“Well?” You asked, looking at him as he stood still, not moving even an inch.

“Well, what?” He replied, eyebrows knitting.

Instead of replying, you rolled your eyes and reached behind you to the ties in your hospital gown, opening it until you could pull it off your body before pulling out the clothes he'd left in the bag.

You didn't glance at him again until you were fully naked, readying your underwear so you could pull it on. When you turned back to him, his gaze knocked the wind out of you.

You'd stopped feeling like a woman the minute he'd carried out of that room. You were a child, a fragile doll, a specimen to be studied. For some of the nurses, you were an infection they could catch.

Spencer Reid, against his better judgment, was looking at you like you were a woman. Like you were the object of his every desire.

“S-Spencer…” you said suddenly feeling the shame and embarrassment of being naked suddenly in front of another person. You pulled the sweatshirt he'd packed you over your torso, covering all of your intimate areas as you stammered out your apology.

“I- shit, I'm sorry-”

“I'll wait - I’ll wait outside. If you need anything you can… you can do whatever.” He said, dragging his eyes off of your body and letting them fall anywhere that you weren't. His eyes darted from the floor to the wall, to the air next to your head and finally to the door where he took himself out.

You dressed in a hurry and followed him.

“Spencer? Spencer, I'm ready,” you said, running down the hall to him and grabbing his arm, holding it for support and comfort, but mostly just to be close.

Since waking up from that first sedation of many in those first few days, you hadn't been more than a few hours without having him hold you.

His team had sent many warning looks watching you wrapped around him like a scared child, hiding behind him like a small, shaking dog. You hadn't seen a problem in it, truly clinging to him like a lifeline.

After whatever the hell had just happened in your hospital room, though? Now you felt each solid ridge of him. You hadn't felt like a woman, sure but you equally hadn't acknowledged Spencer as a man until then. A very attractive man.

The stubble on his jaw only made it sharper. His gentle, curving eyes, cut at the corners by the start of laugh lines, his mouth straight and… and kissable. For the first time in months, definitely for the first time since you'd met your monster, maybe even for the first time ever, desire heated the depths of your stomach.

Your breath hitched, and you held him tighter as he led you out of the ward and ushered you into your new life.

“We're not going to your apartment. Your landlord released you from the lease for…obvious reasons after some persuading. Your parents-”

“My parents?” You asked in disgusting, halting in the hall. For the first time since you'd left the room, he had to turn and look you in the eyes. He'd done his best to dampen the desire, but some part of you still recognised it, even as your logical brain fought to be heard.

“Your parents agreed to fund three months in a new apartment. After which time, you will have a job and some stability, so you'll be able to pay for it yourself.”

You tried to argue and tried to talk back, but your tongue was thick.

A new apartment. Living alone, being alone, for any amount of time, felt daunting.

But Spencer took one more step towards the door and then another, and you had no choice but to walk with him, hand slipping down and grasping his like it was your lifeline.

The drive to whatever new apartment your parents had leased for you was silent, and the storms in your head grew until they'd taken up so much space they erupted forth, darkening the actual skies. A crash of thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance just as he pulled into the building. Luckily for you, there was underground parking, so you didn't even need to contemplate letting the lightning hit you.

There was one space left, and Spencer pulled his car in, flipping the engine off and getting out without another word.

He led you up the stairs, then he led you to your floor, then he led you to your door and handed you the keys.

You felt cold as you opened the doors, knowing you were about to confront items of boxes that had watched you be burned, cut, slapped, beaten.

There were no boxes behind the door. Everything had, to your shock, been unboxed and staged already.

You recognised magnets on the fridge, stuffed animals on the bed when you made your way to your bedroom. Your toiletries were neatly tidied into your medicine cabinet, hell, even your bookshelves had your own dog-eared copies of books well past their prime.

You had every comfort and joy without having to push yourself through the pain of thinking about where these items had last been kept.

There were new things too. The couch was definitely second-hand, but it wasn't the one you'd brought at Goodwill the week after your college graduation. That one was stained red, no doubt, somewhere in a tip. There was bedding and sheets and blankets and plates and forks and knives - a whole household of items that someone had chosen.

You turned back to Spencer and cried. You buried your face in his chest and wrapped yourself around him again as he held you.

And then, realizing he'd been the one to orchestrate this, if not the one who had arranged everything himself, you pushed up on the balls of your feet, and you kissed him.

For the few seconds it lasted, it was brilliance. The pressure on your lips after a second had your heart singing as he kissed you back, your hands balling into his shirt as you stepped closer and closer, needing to be wrapped around him, buried in safety and warmth.

He pulled back and stepped out of your reach too quickly, the back of his hand reaching up to his mouth as if checking that it was still there, that he'd actually just been kissing you back.

“Y/N, you don't…we can't do that.”

“Do what?” You said, creeping forward, needing to feel him beside you again.

“You're not… you don't feel about me the way you think you feel about me,” he said, pushing your hair behind your ear as you wrapped your arms around his waist again.

“How do I feel?”

“Grateful. Y/N, this is gratitude. I saved you, and so you think you are in love with me. It's called transference, and you will deeply, deeply regret this one day.”

The urgency in his tone had you flinching, even if he was trying to talk to you as softly as possible. For a moment, you'd done as he'd asked and forgotten you were a victim. It was apparently something he himself would not forget anytime soon.

You stood around awkwardly for another minute or two.

“What…what now?” You asked, avoiding the kiss and whatever lay in that direction.

“I'll walk you through the emergency contact numbers. The apartment building is pretty old, so there's a wall phone in the kitchen, but there are some modern amenities, too. The laundry room is on the first floor, next to the porters office. I'm in apartment 23 on the second floor, and-”

“What?” Your entire body buzzed, hearing him speak, and you almost forgot to breathe, rushing to stand straight again.

“I… I live on the floor below,” he said, almost cautiously now that you'd thrown yourself at him. “I thought you might enjoy the company.”

He gave you a weak smile and you wanted to kiss him all over again, to press your lips again and again into the soft flesh of his skin, his lips, his nose, his cheeks, his neck, his chest.

You wanted him to hold you. You stood by the sofa and let your grip on a cushion tighten to stop from throwing yourself at him again. One rejection was enough for the day.

Not that you stopped in the weeks to come.

Spencer had himself relegated to office work for the first month as you rode out the waves of your grief, sticking by his side for comfort.

Your friends came and went, but they wore the stench of ‘I told you so’ and ‘I saw that coming,’ and you suffocated on it after so long.

Every day after he returned home, you arrived at him door and threw yourself into his open arms, sitting with him for hours. Most days, you read together, ignoring that the man flipped pages three times as fast as you did. Some nights, you watched shows or movies, making your way through three companions worth of “New Who” in a week.

Each time you came, he took care of your food, ordering or cooking simple pasta dishes for you.

He told you about the time his coworker had taught him how to make the perfect pasta, berating him for putting oil in his pasta water, and damn near drawing his weapon while he made sure he salted it.

You laughed together and ate together, and you forgot together.

Your life was back to normal when you got your first job interview. It's nothing spectacular, but it was enough that it would pay the bills to the apartment whose lease is a ticking bomb counting down to 0. It was a normal office, where you would be doing normal work that you had absolutely done before.

The interview was normal, the female employee that meets you first reassuring you that the company is safe, their employees vetted and supported.

And the company makes feminine hygiene products anyway, so they don't attract too many men, or at least none like the monster you'd known.

All in all, the interview went well.

It went well all the way until you reached the bus stop. You felt eyes on you, watching your movements, but you couldn't see anyone else focusing on you particularly.

You felt the stares on the bus, and the stares when you got off the bus two stops early. You felt the stares walking around the block three times to throw whatever was following you around off your track. You felt the stares as you sat outside Spencer's apartment until 6:45pm, when he came home and found you there. Your interview had been at 1pm.

“Y/N, what's wrong?” He said, immediately holding you and guiding you into the apartment.

Your anxiety and fear had settled into self-loathing and disappointment. You let him hold you quietly, rejecting food and conversation.

You sat quietly with him on his sofa as he held a book in one hand, stroking your hair with another as you laid on his chest.

The emotions of the day were overwhelming, consuming the part of your brain that had started being happy again for the first time. You grew angry at the sadness for seeping back in, and in an act of rebellion, you pushed back up and kissed Spencer once more.

His brain was slower to react this time, even if his body wasn't.

You straddled his hips as your lips joined his, melting together in a hot embrace. He dropped his book quickly, hand resting on your hip as the one that had been stroking your hair angled your jaw up so he could set the pace.

All your emotions were swept away in a wave of desire as you slowly rubbed against him, butt shifting as you clumsily followed your arousal past your worldly knowledge.

You couldn't even think about what was next because your tongue was clashing with Spencer's, and your brain was short circuiting.

The second you let out your first whimper of pleasure, he pushed you away and stood up, crossing the room to put distance between you, just as he had a month beforr.

“Y/N, you had a bad day, but this isn't… This isn't how you should make yourself feel better.”

“Spencer-”

“I told you about transference before, Y/N, you need to listen to me. I'm not… I'm not the one for you.” His voice shook as he ran his hands through his hair in stress, body tense in a way that informed you he was holding himself back.

“Transference. Transference…” You sat upright on his couch and let all the logic rush back into your brain at once.

“Y/N?” He asked, voice shaking as he watched you zone out of the conversation, almost afraid that he'd damaged you again.

“Is there… Is there something wrong with transference?” You asked, voice impossibly calm as you still stared straight forward.

He moved towards you again and knelt at the floor in front of you, clutching your hands in his.

“Y/N, you don't really want me like that, you don't, you can't-”

“Love you?” You asked, your voice finally breaking, eyes finally meeting his.

It was as if you knocked the wind out of him. He sat there completely dumbstruck.

“It might not be love, okay, I'll admit that. But you're… you're strong and smart, and you take care of me. And you're attractive, and you make me happy, which is something I didn't think I'd ever be again-”

“Y/N, something happened to you today, and you threw yourself at me. You threw yourself at me when you moved into your apartment. You felt stressed, and you reacted, Y/N. You don't love me.”

You sat calmly listening to his words again, your body still aching for his touch, your heart still pounding in your chest.

“Okay. Okay. So if I do…this when I'm not feeling vulnerable, then what? Then you'll believe me?”

“Y/N…” he sighed in defeat, hand again raking through his hair.

You grabbed your things and stood up off the couch, bending to press another kiss to his lips before you parted.

He was shocked silent, but that didn't stop him from chasing your lips as you rose, rising to his knees and then his feet as you walked away from him.

“I'll see you tomorrow, Spencer. Get some sleep,” you said, letting yourself out or the apartment and carrying yourself, heavy and dejected, upstairs.

If Spencer was anticipating seeing you again the next morning, he wasn't anticipating seeing you in his office.

“Spencer,” you called out as you walked into the bullpen, clipping your visitors badge into place again, making sure it wasn't crooked.

Immediately, he stood from his desk and rose to meet you, ignoring the looks from his coworkers as his hands landed on your arms, immediately checking on you.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” He whispered, checking for tears, or injuries, or something to show him your motive for seeking him out.

You just smiled at him, brushing a hair behind your ear when you saw him hesitate making that same gesture.

“I was summoned. They need my statement to corroborate your weapon discharge paperwork, and Agent Hotchner called earlier.”

His hands dropped as he breathed a steady sigh of relief, trying to make his reaction smaller than he knew it was. He was afraid something had happened to you again, and he was so caught up in his relief, that he didn't notice you moving closer until your lips were on his cheek and you were waving him off as you ascended the stairs to Hotch's office with your escort.

“Spencer,” Morgan's voice called from behind him, and he turned hesitantly.

“What was that?”

He felt the eyes on him, and he pushed all thoughts of you to the side in place of total rationality.

“I explained transference to her but… she doesn't seem to - she doesn't care.”

“Spencer the last time I saw that girl, she was practically the walking dead. She just smiled.” Morgan said, shaking his head. But Spencer was watching you, and not his friend, and really, he wasn't even listening.

“Spencer? Spencer?” Morgan said again, rising to get in the man's face some more until he finally looked at him again.

“She thinks she's in love with me.”

“How do you know she isn't?”

You kept working on him, little by little, day by day, until Spencer's field work started again.

A little part of you was sad that he wouldn't always be around every day anymore. But you'd got that job and got over yourself as you started going out more. You made friends at your office, and you went out and laughed and joked with old college roommates. You felt like a human being again, and to no one's surprise, you still wanted Spencer Reid.

He left every Monday on a case, and by the time Wednesday rolled around, you missed him. Going out to drinks with some coworkers after clocking off certainly didn't sate your appetite for him.

“Spencer,” you said, breathily into the phone when he picked up, throwing yourself onto your bed.

“Y/N, what happened? Is everything alright? Do you need me to come back?”

“No, Spencer, I just-” you hiccupped and giggled before continuing. “I just missed you so much.”

The silence on the line was suddenly so funny to you, and you giggled again. Feeling hot, you stripped down to your underwear and started talking again.

“I miss cuddling up to you and crawling all over you. You're really soft, you know?” You sighed, hands trailing up and down your stomach lightly.

“Y/N,” he said in a warning tone.

“I miss your face. I'm switching to video call,” you announced and fumbled with your phone.

“No, Y/N, wait-” he said, but pulling the phone away from his ears, he realized his protests were too late to matter as he took in your half-naked form.

Though your face took up the majority of the view on the camera, he could see the soft trim of your lace bra poking into the camera, and the generous push of cleavage your angle facilitated to boot.

Checking around him for people looking, he tucked himself into a corner and scowled back at you.

“Y/N, this isn't a game. Turn the call off and go to bed.”

“But I miss you,” you whined.

“Y/N,” he hissed, eyes falling to your hands where you'd begun massaging your heavy breasts.

“When are you coming home?” You asked, whining again like a petulant child as the alcohol flushed through your system, bringing all of your desires to the forefront.

“Soon,” he said, not trusting himself to say more than a word.

“Good. Because I miss you. Spencer, I- I think I want to have sex with you.”

His eyes shut as he tried to remain calm even as your words rang in his ears from 1000 miles away.

“We'll talk soon, Y/N. Good night,” he closed, finally hanging up and covering his face in his hands. He made his way quickly to his motel room, threw his phone down on his bed, and ignored as best he could his throbbing cock in his pants and the three pictures you'd sent him since he hung up.

He didn't resist for long.

Three nights later, you found yourself at a bar, living life to the fullest. You'd taken back to society like a swan to water, and you weren't letting the stern words of Spencer Reid keep you down. Knocking back another shot, you smiled and cheered with your friends until you felt the eyes on you again. It was different this time, though, hotter, and closer. You turned to look at the door and saw Spencer Reid and the other people who'd saved your life walking to a booth. It was Spencer's eyes on you.

You definitely did not believe in a higher power - how could you, after all - but you did believe that this was fate.

You blew him a kiss as he watched you walk back to your table with another cocktail in hand, letting a man who'd been trying to flirt with you earlier follow you to your friends.

When you went for your next drink, you found him at your side in a heartbeat.

“I'm not checking up on you,” he said, even though he was. “I'm ordering a drink.”

“Two drinks,” you said, shooting him a flirty smile as you pressed yourself against him again, chest to chest.

“You're ordering two drinks, Spencer,” you whispered into his ears as his head dropped down to within an inch of your own. The air felt changed, but you refused to move to close the gap. You'd put in the work the last few times. You needed Spencer to be the one to take the chance this time.

He ordered your drinks, and still you didn't move apart, huddled together as if you were whispering conspiracies to one another.

When your drink was firmly in your hand, he grabbed your wrist and led you to a dark corner of the bar. You sipped your drink quickly, managing two swigs before he took it and placed both drinks down - right beside Penelope Garcia - and dragged you out into the hall.

The bathrooms were empty when he pushed you inside, and your heart throbbed as his hands pushed you into a stall, lifted your legs to wrap around him, and then his lips finally crashed into yours.

Transference or whatever else it was supposed to be, you didn't give one shit in that moment as his tongue coaxed your lips apart.

His hands didn't stay in place for long as he dragged them up and down your body, exploring every part he'd memorized from the pictures. Every curve or inch he'd previously held tenderly, gently, he now raked over with the hunger of arousal, pushing your short skirt up until it was past your hips and his fingers could sink into you instead.

You were soaked before he even had one digit inside you, his thumb rubbing roughly against your clit as you turned to jelly in his hands.

You'd masturbated before, sure, you were a grown woman. But the feeling of someone else's hands, someone else's hest, the knowledge that someone else desired you so badly that they'd drag you into a bar bathroom just to sate their lust? That was new, and it was exciting.

His lips covered yours as your legs shook, silencing every moan, every whimper with his tongue. It was wild, messy, your tongues clashing wildly and messily as your hips rocked violently, trying to reach that high, but also trying to make this last past his fingers.

It wasn't to be though as you shuddered around his three digits, your orgasm ripping through you silently, leaving you wide-eyed and wide mouthed.

“We're done,” he said, gently kissing your cheek as be stood you up, letting you stretch out the soreness in your muscles.

“For now?”

“Forever, Y/N. This was a mistake.”

Your heart hit the ground, and he stomped on it, but the anger filling your gut pushed up and out before he could completely bow out.

“No,” you ground out through gritted teeth.

“Y/N, you aren't in love with me. You feel grateful that I saved you, you feel attracted to me because I'm older and you think I can protect you, and a little part of it is that you've always been attracted to men who are dangerous. You're not in love with me, so-”

“You sound like him.”

Shocked, he paused, and his grip on your hips tightened until his nails were biting into your skin.

“What?”

“You're telling me how to feel, you're telling me what to do. You sound like him.”

“Y/N, that is unfair-”

“Unfair is denying that I'd know how I'm fucking feeling to let you wallow in self sacrifice, Spencer. Unfair is playing the martyr when we can both see that you want this as fucking badly as I do.”

You didn't give him a second longer to react, but grabbed him by the wrist and, making sure your skirt was once again in place, pulled him back out of the bathroom and into the club.

Stopping by Penelope, you put his drink in his hand and grabbed yours, downing it quickly. He followed your actions, taking a sip until you were done and slamming your drink back on the table.

Then you kept him moving, pushing doors open, hailing a cab, and climbing in with him hot on your heels.

You kept your grip on him tight until you'd marched him to his apartment. Releasing him, you flattened your back against his door, letting him slowly unlock the door as you spoke to him again finally.

“Do it, Spencer. Be my first.”

It was like he was a different man walking over that threshold. His hand were on your face, his tongue again fighting yours as you stumbled back into the apartment, crashing into the wall, then the coffee table, and then the couch.

You cursed in anger hitting his closed bedroom door and pushed him away to open it yourself, but his arms wrapped around you from the back and he sucked bruises against your neck as his hands grabbed your breasts and squeezed them.

His cock was rigid in his pants, and your body ached for the unknown, the soon to come pleasure that he was to deliver.

He pushed you down onto the bed quickly, and you rolled yourself over, pulling your own dress off as quickly as possible.

“That's my job,” he moaned, meeting your lips again as his hands fell to your underwear once again.

“You have a long to-do list, Spencer, I'm just helping,” you smirked as he kissed you again, your hands shakily working down each button of his shirt as you acted to tear it off of him.

“We have all night,” he replied, fingers once again rubbing at your bundle of nerves, hips pushing up and into his hands.

“No, Spencer. No, we don't. I need you now.”

His mouth covered yours again as you finally, finally got his shirt off, letting him throw it to the floor as you started working on his belt. Your legs spread as he inched closer, sitting between your thighs comfortably as he waited with bated breath for you to finally touch his cock.

You knew what dicks looked like, you knew what they were supposed to feel like, but you never realised you'd want to touch one so fucking badly until his sprung from his pants.

He took your hand and spit in it before you wrapped your fingers around him and felt the heat of his cock pulsing against you.

He was big, long more than girthy, and you wondered how thousands of years of women had managed to survive coupling if this was the weapon meant to numb them into horny submission.

One stroke, and you were a mess, his fingers hooking into you as you flicked your wrist up and down.

You watched his precum rise and swiped it up in one finger, tasting it as he groaned and started thrusting up, fucking your hand as he scissored his fingers inside of you.

He stretched you out, readying you for his thick cock, and you gladly sat there, letting him use you and ready you all at once.

When you were ready, he wrapped his arms around you again, lifting you onto the bed properly and laying you down softly in the sheets. Kneeling to roll on the condom he'd grabbed from his bedside table, you watched in curiosity as you tried to memorize every movement, every second of him sinking into you.

The tears in your eyes were emotion just as much as pain, your heart hammering in your ears as he whispered praise into your ear, dropping confessions like bombs.

“You're taking me so well, Y/N, that's good…” he moaned, pushing in one inch.

“That's it, Y/N, just a little more. I love you, you can do it,” he said, sinking in two more.

“You feel so good, Y/N, made just for me,” he said as he finally hit your limit.

You knew the stretch wasn't the end, and he rested there for a second, letting you get used to him before you lost patience with him.

“Spencer just, just push through,” you grit out, and he did, snapping his hips up just that.inch or two more and sending that spark of pain through you.

In an instant, his lips were on yours, his fingers on your clit, flooding your nerves with pleasure as all you could think of was the pain.

But when the pain faded, there was still him, and his cock neatly sheathed inside of you.

His hips moved languidly at first, his entire body weight pushing down on you, lazily twisting and writhing as of this were just one of your cuddles on the couch.

You whimpered, and he moved faster, and you learnt quickly that your noises and sighs to him were what his praise was to you - motivation.

You moaned, and he picked up his pace, moving faster as you whimpered a lustful ‘yes’ into his ear.

“Good girl, good girl, Y/N, that's it. Good girl,” he repeated, unable to say more as you whimpered and cried under him, speech lost as he split you in half with his dick.

You grew louder, and his cock buried itself deeper, your moans dragged on longer and he picked up speed.

He whispered that you were his perfect little slut, and you jolted in his arms, cumming on his cock and screaming his name.

He kept pumping into you, careful to make sure the condom stayed in place as he finally bottomed out and let pleasure roll through him again.

Coming down from his high, your tongue pushed into his mouth, and you rolled him over, sitting yp on his dick as he watched.

You rose off his cock, letting him stare in wonder as your own arousal dripped off of your skin, his cock coated in arousal, and spit from his fingers and, yes, a little bit of blood.

You crawled back and peeled off the condom, tying It quickly and discarding it before you tasted his cum quickly.

It was just a soft lick, but it had him declaring his love for you again, and you decided that there were very few things you wouldn't do to hear those words.

As delightful as your lips felt, though, he quickly bundled you up and forced you to the bathroom, turning on the taps in the bath and placing you on the toilet before leaving.

Even now, after everything, he was still taking care of you. Maybe especially now.

You finished, and he came back. More stolen kisses and moans and a bath that turned into more later, and you found yourself bundled into his spare clothes and wrapped in his arms on his couch again.

He clicked play on another episode of Doctor Who (you'd finally reached Donna, and he was excitedly introducing you to the new character), and you finally looked up at him again.

“I love you,” you said again, loudly this time, with no fear.

Though his training told him the response he should give, Spencer just looked down at you again and gave in to his heart.

“I love you, too.”

You fell asleep quickly after that, head resting over his heart, the sound of the steady beats lulling you to sleep.

#cmkinkbingo2024 #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #reiderslibrary #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #mgg #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fandom #cm writing challenge #spencer reid cm #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #dr spencer reid

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endless-ineffabilities · 1 month ago

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some mildly spicy Ewan 'The Iceberg' Mitchell headcanons for your imaginative indulgence

I want 'em all to see you look good on top of me At this time at night, I need not one, not three Just your two hands on me like my life needs savin' Let 'em all know

a/n: inspired by the release of the song 2 hands. purely self-indulgent, purely fictional, and nothing more. no explicit bits, because I steer clear of those for rpfs. so on your marks, get set...

main masterlist

✨️ He would be the most gentle partner during your first time together. Not rushing in the slightest as he prepares you, making sure you feel good and comfortable every step of the way, going down on you like it's his last meal on earth. He'd want to maintain eye contact, even as you fall apart underneath him. He would clean you up afterwards, and whisper sweet nothings in your ear as you fall asleep in his arms.

✨️ He is, of course, sweet and attentive and tender in bed. But the more you get to know him, the more he reveals his rougher, dominant side. You would find out that they were all right about him—while he does keep to himself a lot, Ewan is indeed secretly naughty >:)

✨️ There will be moments when he would be unsure, his eyes would flit all over the room then back to you, and you would know that he's biting back a question.

✨️ What is it, baby? — Hmm, nothing. — C'mon, Ewan. — I was wondering if... if I can take... pictures of you? — Of course, I mean... you already take a lot of pictures of me. — No, I mean... pictures. — Okay. Pictures. What...? — (he'd bury his face in your neck, as if ashamed) I want one where I can see my baby. Every single bit of my baby. — Oh.

✨️ And so that'll be the start of Ewan's most prized album in his phone. Suddenly, the lad will have a knack for photography. He'd capture all the right angles.

✨️ The boy is needy as hell. He'd actually whine in protest when he wants to do it, when he craves you, and you'd brush him off because you're busy working or you're in a rush to go to a meeting.

✨️ Baby, c'mon, just stay. — Ewan, I have to go to work. — I'm a successful actor, I can provide for you, baby. You don't ever have to work again. — Ewan, you're so ridiculous. — Okay, fine, fiiiiiine. But... just give me 10 minutes please. — I really gotta go, babe. — Alright, 5 minutes. Promise to make you scream.

✨️ He's a sucker for neck kisses. It tickles him a little when you nibble on the underside of his jaw, the crook of his neck. He could just lie there forever with his head tilted back and his fingers threaded in your hair.

✨️ But as much as he likes receving neck kisses, he likes doling them out even more. Hickeys stir a primal instinct in him, he likes seeing you covered—branded—in them. As if they prove that you're his and only his.

✨️ His favourite sight is watching you in the throes of climax. His second favourite is when you look up at him as you're on your knees, holding his gaze as you bring him closer to the edge.

✨️ Your bits and bobs would not be in places where you left them. The childhood photo of yours that you tacked onto the board above your desk — in Ewan's wallet. Your favourite piece of lace underwear — for some reason, in the hidden inner pocket of his trusty travel backpack. Your old hairtie — snug around his wrist, because he'd want to keep something of yours on him at all times (and! also useful in case you'd be in a new city together, for example, and you need 10 minutes and your hair neatly kept away from your face).

✨️ Ewan (the true blue cinephile) likes a cheeky fumble in the screen-lit darkness of the cinema. This means that you know to wear a skirt during your movie dates, to give him easy access as his hand wanders under your folded-up coat on your lap. He'd keep his head forward, watching the film as he buries his digits, but his darkened eyes give him away.

✨️ As much as he loves seeing you in nothing but your underwear and one of his metal t-shirts, wearing his clothes for long would be a challenge — the moment he catches sight of you like that, he's instantly turned on. That Metallica shirt would meet the floor. But... there would be times when he would want to have you with nothing but that on.

✨️ He wouldn't mind if you accidentally call him Aemond in the middle of it. It even spurs him on. He would also beg you to please call him my Prince or Prince Regent.

✨️ You would help him practice his lines. One thing in particular—he would want to fully act out the steamy scenes between Aemond and Alys with you, so he could carry that memory of you in his performance.

✨️ He would drive you both around in the old Ford he got from his dad as a gift for his 22nd. You like that he still uses the same car, even as his success continues to grow. And you would become quite familiar with every inch of that newly upholstered backseat.

✨️ If you ask him, he'll tell you he's keeping that car until it's nothing but rust on wheels. Every faint stain and tiny scratch on the leather a reminder of heated moments (fogged up windows, tangled limbs, sharp commands, gear shifts, riding) too precious to part with.

✨️ Not to mention, that backseat is his favourite location to do it in. And it's yours too ;)

#ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell x reader #ewan mitchell headcanons #ewan mitchell imagine #house of the dragon #hotd #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen

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v6quewrlds · 1 month ago

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❝ guilt trip, t. alexander-arnold. ❞ ‎ ‎ ┉

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀summary: every year, trent and his mates bet on no nut november. and every year trent fails to hold out. it's really not your fault you can't hold off.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: so sorry this is up so late <3 day ten of my no nut november series.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀warnings: smut, please do not interact with my work if you are under 18. language, established relationship, brief fingering, begging.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀pairing: trent alexander-arnold x reader.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 2.7k.

"I can't believe it's November already," you said, your eyes fixed on the calendar. The page, a warm palette complementary to the warm autumnal hues of the season, glared back at you with a single, scribbled note: "No Nut November begins today". You sighed, knowing what this meant for you and Trent's love life for the next thirty days.

Trent sailed into the room, his broad frame casting a shadow over your thoughts. "I think this is my year, babe," he said, a smirk playing on his lips. "I swear I'm gonna win that bet."

You could only roll your eyes at the sheer absurdity of the bet. "You've never made it past the first week," you reminded him, your voice laden with skepticism.

Every November 1st, you had come to expect the same conversation with Trent. You knew the drill: he'd announce the start of the "No Nut November" challenge with the excitement of a kid on Christmas Eve, and you would play along, feigning shock and annoyance. But this year, you felt a twinge of genuine annoyance. You had been dating for almost two years now, and you had hoped that by this point, the juvenile betting pool with his football mates would've grown old. But here you were, staring down the barrel of another month-long abstinence challenge.

Trent, ever the competitor, was undeterred by your eye roll. "This year's different," he assured you, crossing the room to give your arm a playful squeeze. "Me and the boys have upped the stakes. The winner gets bragging rights and a sweet little prize."

You raised an eyebrow. "And what's the prize this time?" you asked, already bracing yourself for the inevitable.

Trent's eyes lit up. "It's a weekend getaway to a posh spa resort. Imagine it, babe," he said, his voice full with enthusiasm. "Just you and me, no interruptions, no training, no matches."

You couldn't help but feel a spark of interest. A weekend at a spa was something you hadn't indulged in for quite some time. "And who's doing the challenge this year?" you inquired, knowing full well that you would be the one keeping Trent honest.

"Just me, Dom, Ryan, and Harvey," Trent listed off his competitors with a grin. "But it's mainly between Dom and me, to be honest."

You sighed, knowing that Dominik was going to be the toughest competition for Trent. "Alright, you know the rules," you said, trying to hide your amusement. "No funny business for the next thirty days."

Trent nodded solemnly. "I know, I know," he said, planting a quick kiss on your cheek. "But just think of the prize, love. A whole weekend of pampering and no distractions. We can finally relax."

You couldn't argue with that. "Fine, I'll hold you to it," you said with a smirk. "But if you even think about cheating..."

"Would I ever?" Trent protested, his eyes wide and innocent. You just raised an eyebrow at him, and he chuckled, admitting defeat. "Okay, okay, I'll behave."

The first week was surprisingly easy, with Trent's focus on the bet keeping him in check. The two of you spent your evenings watching movies and playing board games, your hands brushing against each other in innocent gestures that somehow seemed more intimate than your usual passionate encounters.

But as November marched on, the tension grew. You could feel it in the way Trent's eyes lingered on you, the way his touch slightly lingered. The air in the apartment thickened with unspoken desire, and you had to bite your tongue to keep from teasing him too much. You knew how much this ridiculous challenge meant to him, and you didn't want to be the one to make him stumble.

One evening, with about four days left to go, Trent came home from training with a new haircut, the fresh scent of aftershave wafting through the door before he did. You were in the kitchen, chopping vegetables for your dinner, but you stopped dead in your tracks when you saw him. His hair was buzzed closer to his scalp than it had been that morning, highlighting his sharp cheekbones and the intensity in his brown eyes. Though you would deny it, you nearly dropped the knife at the sight of him.

"What do you think?" Trent asked, a hopeful lilt in his voice as he spun around to show you the full picture.

You couldn't help but stare. The clean-shaven edges of his head and the short, textured hair on top were always a favorite look of yours, but the excitement in his eyes was purely childlike. You bit your bottom lip, trying to hold back a smile. "Looks good," you said, your voice a little too flat. "Very clean, babe."

Trent stepped closer, leaning against the kitchen counter, his gaze trained on your reaction. "Thanks," he said, his voice a little too casual. "Thought I'd go for a change."

You could see the challenge in his eyes, the silent dare to push the boundaries of the bet. You scoffed, trying to play it cool. "Don't get too cocky," you warned him. "You've still got a few days to go."

Trent chuckled, his eyes never leaving yours. "Cocky?" he repeated, his smirk growing wider at the double entendre. "Now why would you say that?"

You rolled your eyes, trying to keep your expression neutral as you continued to prep dinner. "Because you know it's going to be hard to resist," you said, your voice low. "Especially looking like that."

Trent pushed himself off the counter and sauntered over to you, his movements slow and deliberate. "Is that so?" he murmured, his breath warm on your neck as he peered over your shoulder. His fingers danced across your waist, making your heart flutter despite your resolve to keep things PG for the next few days.

"Trent, don't," you chided, swatting his hand away, but not before you felt the electricity of his touch zipping through your body. You turned to face him, your desire shimmering in your eyes despite your stern expression. "You're making this impossible."

"Impossible?" he said with a cheeky smile, his thumb brushing the side of your face. "You know you want to." His voice was a low murmured tease that sent shivers down your spine.

You tried to maintain your composure, but the smell of his fresh shower gel and the sight of his toned arms flexing as he leaned against the counter was making it increasingly difficult. "I've been helping you remember?" you said, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice.

"Ah, but what's the fun in that?" Trent whispered, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Besides, it can stay our secret?"

You knew you should be the voice of reason, but his touch was making your knees weak, and the way he looked at you with that cocky grin had your mind racing. You stepped back, trying to create some distance, but the kitchen was small, and he followed you, his hand sliding around your waist to pull you closer.

"Trent," you protested, even as she felt yourself melting into his embrace. His fingers traced the curve of your hip, and you couldn't help but lean into his touch, your body craving his warmth.

He kissed your neck, his lips lingering on your sensitive skin. "Come on, love," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "One little slip won't hurt."

Your resolve was wavering. The smell of him, the heat of his body, and the promise in his eyes were too tempting. "Trent," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper. "We can't. You'll lose the bet."

Trent leaned in closer, his mouth finding yours in a gentle but urgent kiss. "It's okay. I don't care anymore," he murmured against your lips. "I just need you."

You felt the last of your resolve crumbling. You pushed away the guilt that tried to surface. After all, it was just one time. And you had missed him, more than you would like to admit. "Fine," you whispered, a hint of a smile playing on your lips. "But you better make it worth it."

With a growl of victory, Trent swept you up into his arms and carried you to the bedroom, leaving the chopped vegetables forgotten on the kitchen counter. He laid you gently on the bed, his hands tracing the curves of your body with a hunger that had been building for weeks. You couldn't help but feel a thrill at the way he looked at you, like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

Your kisses grew more urgent, your hands more explorative. Trent peeled off your sweater, revealing your bare chest, a silent invitation that hadn't gone unnoticed. His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of you, his breath hitching in his throat. Your pulse quickened, the anticipation of his touch making your skin prickle with excitement. He kissed you deeply, his tongue dancing with yours as he untied your sweats and slid them off your legs.

Trent's strong hands roamed your body, his thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples, eliciting a gasp from you. You reached for his shirt, tugging it over his head with an eagerness that surprised you. His skin was warm and smooth, the muscles of his chest tightening under your palms.

You rolled over the bed, a tangle of limbs and passion, the intensity of your kisses matching the urgency in your movements. You felt the heat of his erection pressing against your center, and you moaned softly, your arousal growing. Trent kissed a trail down your body, his teeth grazing your skin, sending jolts of pleasure through you.

Your hands found his hair, tugging him closer as he nibbled at your skin, teasing and suckling until you were squirming beneath him. His hand slid down your stomach, his fingers finding your wetness, and you arched your back, your breath hitching in response. He chuckled darkly against your skin, knowing just how much it drove you crazy.

Trent took his time, savoring every inch of your body as if it were his first time. His touch was both gentle and demanding, leaving you gasping for more. You couldn't help the moan that escaped your lips when he slipped a finger inside you, stroking you in a rhythm that had your hips moving in sync. Your legs fell open wider, giving him full access as he kissed and licked his way down your body.

The room was filled with the sound of your heavy breathing, the rustle of fabric, and the occasional sound of skin against skin. Your thoughts swirled in a haze of desire, your body responding to Trent's every touch with an urgency that had been building for weeks. You could feel the tension coiling within you, tightening with every stroke and kiss.

Trent paused, his eyes locking with yours as he reached for his shorts. Your chest heaved with anticipation, your heart racing at the thought of what was to come. He hovered over you, his gaze filled with a mix of need and love.

Without a word, he positioned himself between your legs, the tip of his erection nudging at your entrance. Your eyes fluttered shut as he pushed in, the sensation of being filled by him almost too much to bear. He groaned, his muscles tensing as he buried himself deep inside you. The two of you moved together, your rhythm a dance you had perfected over the years you had been together. Each thrust brought a wave of pleasure that crashed over you, making your toes curl and your nails dig into the bed sheets.

Trent moaned into your ear, his voice a mix of passion and affection that sent shivers down your spine. "You feel so good," he murmured, his breath hot and ragged. You responded with moans of pleasure, your body arching to meet his as the tension grew tauter. The room was a cocoon of passion, the rest of the world outside your window forgotten in the heat of the moment.

"Baby," you whispered, your voice a soft plea as the tension coiled tighter within you. Trent's rhythm grew more urgent, his breaths shallow and ragged against your skin. The heady scent of your combined arousal filled the room, a silent testament to your shared need.

"Yeah? Tell me what you need, pretty girl," Trent's voice was strained as he moved above you, the muscles in his arms flexing with the effort to hold himself up.

Your nails raked down his back as he brought your legs up around his waist, changing the angle and driving even deeper. The sensation was overwhelming, and you felt the orgasm building, the heat pooling in your core. "Please," you begged, your voice barely audible.

Trent kissed you again, his movements growing more frantic as he felt you tighten around him. He knew you were close, and the knowledge spurred him on. "Come on, baby," he murmured, his voice low and urgent. "What do you need, love?"

"Harder," you gasped, your eyes wide with desire. "Please, T. Harder."

Trent complied, his strokes becoming more forceful, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the room. Your breathing grew ragged, and your eyes squeezed shut as the wave of pleasure built, threatening to consume you. You could feel yourself teetering on the edge, and you knew that with one more push, you would be over.

"Now, baby," Trent whispered, his voice a mix of command and desperation. And with one final, powerful thrust, you shattered, your orgasm ripping through your body like a storm. You cried out, your nails digging into his back as you clenched around him. The intensity of your climax took you by surprise, leaving you trembling and gasping for breath.

Trent followed closely behind, his own release crashing over him like a wave. He buried his face in your neck, his breaths coming in heavy pants against your skin. You felt him pulse inside you, the sensation sending aftershocks of pleasure through your core. Your hand gently fluttered over the trimmed hair at the nape of his neck, your touch soothing his panting breaths.

The room was quiet except for the sound of your breathing and the distant murmur of the city below. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt, knowing that Trent had just failed to win the bet. But as Trent rolled off you, pulling you close, you pushed the thought aside. For now, you would revel in the warmth of his embrace, the feel of his chest rising and falling with each breath.

Trent leaned in and kissed your forehead gently. "Worth it?" he whispered, a smug smile playing on his lips.

Your head shook but you couldn't help but laugh. "You're such a tease," you huffed, your voice still shaky from the aftermath of your orgasm.

"Couldn't resist," Trent said with a grin, his chest still heaving. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer. "Besides, it's not a big deal anyway. Dom gave up this morning."

Your eyes widened in shock. "What?" you exclaimed, pushing yourself up to look at him. "You mean you could've..."

Trent nodded, his cheeky grin growing wider. "Could've," he confirmed, "but I had to make it good. For the prize, obviously."

You couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up from your chest. "Trent," you said, shoving weakly at his chest. "I felt so guilty."

Trent chuckled, kissing your forehead again. "It's alright, love," he assured you. "I think we've been good for long enough."

You sighed, a mix of relief and annoyance crossing your face. "I guess. But you could've told me sooner," you pouted, snuggling closer to his warmth.

Trent shrugged. "Where's the fun in that?" He leaned in, kissing your cheek. "Besides, we both know I was going to win anyway." His voice was full of good-natured arrogance, and you couldn't help but roll your eyes, even as you felt a warmth spread through your chest at his confidence.

The tension of the past few weeks dissipated into the comfortable silence that had become a familiar blanket between you. Your mind raced with what you could say to scold him, but the feeling of his strong arms around you, his heart beating steady and strong against your chest, was too comforting to let go.

#&. cassie writes.#&. nnn masterlist.#trent alexander arnold #trent alexander x reader #trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander x you #trent alexander imagines #trent alexander arnold imagine #taa x reader #football imagine #liverpool fc #footballer imagine #taa imagine #taa66

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ice-cream-writes-stuff · 7 months ago

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.𖥔 ݁ ˖🦇 ݁˖ ݁𖥔 . |Webs And All|.𖥔 ݁ ˖🦇 ݁˖ ݁𖥔 .

《When a Spider falls into a new world, she didn't expect it to be so.. "Batty" than the others she's been in.》

Hurriedly swinging on rooftops and walls, you gaze in awe of the night sky. Warmth filling your body as the night air floats on your suit. Taking in the night sky...

Before smog and gas cover it as you jump down on the roof top. Pouting at the loss of the clear sky as you frown.

"I forget how polluted this city is.." You grumble, going to the ledge as you place your arms on the railing. Gazing down at the city lights and billboards.

Blinking innocently at one of the paid advertisments, you squint at it curiously.

"Wayne Enter.. Prizes? Technology.." You giggle at the guy on the board. His charming smile and flirty wink was not something you've seen often for an ad for tech.

Well...

You start re-calling a few worlds that did, but with a another billionare..

"Hmm, well. That's enough day-dreaming!" You shake your body, wanting to get your jitters out before taking a deep breath... Shooting out one of your webs to a near by ledge as you run and jump off.

Feeling your body pulled downwards, you pull your web as you glide through the air. Twirling slightly as you smile underneat your mask. Laughing once more as you swing forward.

..Let's do things differently this time.

Your name is (Y/N) (L/N), you were bitten by a radioactive spider..

Yet you weren't the only one.

But now.. Your on your own, though you weren't the only one.

With a fleeting glance at you, the supposed.. Dark Knight: pays you no mind. Eagerly taking down villians left and right, as the two of you finish them off together.

You were supposed to be back at HQ.

Things didn't go as planned.

You made it work, with this "new" life of yours.

Stumbling over your shoes in a hurry, you place down the box of donuts on the big fancy board meeting table. Glad that the stairwell was open, sighing in relief, you miss the eyes that watched you leave the building. While you headed to your next job!

In this Au, Spider!(Y/N) is a temp-worker and delivery girl. Just an odd young gal doing jobs around Gotham, ordinary and sweet.

She has a multiverse-watch, handmade specifcally for her by Miguel. Being one of his first recruits to the Spider Society, yet with the new Multiverse-Canon she's stuck in, the watch forms within her body to make it more acceptable to deal within the world.

Due to this, she doesn't "glitch" is the best term

"Welcome! Lord Hades!" The man dressed in a toga greeted cheerfully. You squint in confusion. Glancing at your companion as you walked closer to his side.

"Ah.. And fair Persephone, it seems you've taken form as garden spider. How quaint!" He spoke jovially as he held out a golden goblet to the two of you.

"Be serious Max! That's Batman and-"

"But Batman is a mere mortal! And what mortal has reached the summit of Olympus and survied!" Placing a hand on Batman's shoulder, the man gestured to his cup.

"Come! Brother! Unveil yourself and your bride in the nectar of the gods!"

-Batman The Animated Series 1992 Ep: Fire From Olympus

Spider!(Y/N) doesn't know Batman's idenitiy, and funny enough. He doesn't know hers, in the beginning. I'd like to think maybe down the line there's a possibility! I just think it's silly-er.

I'd like to think the dynamic between the two is Batman served as a comedic foil to Spider!(Y/N). Sorta, "brooding guy-and happy guy". Also, I like to point out, they can both can be silly in their own ways!

Just them figuring it out with Batman is hilarious in itself.

Biting into the dish, you beam in joy! It tasted so sweet! And.. Tangy, with a bit of sour. Invested with the tasty dish, you fail to notice the striking blue eyes glancing at you from a distance. Naively standing alone in your waiter uniform as you nibble on the treat.

"Ah, Mister Wayne, good to see you." Jim Gordon, dressed outside of his usual detective get-up greets. Flattening down his suit before grabbing one of the fancy champange glasses from one of the servers.

"Oh, Commissioner!" He spoke in suprise, greeting him as the two started to chat. "-And there it was... Mister Freeze and that giant lizzard."

"Dinosur." Gordan corrected.

"Whatever, doesn't make any sense. What does Victor Freeze gain by destroying a bunch of bones?" The billionare huffed.

"That's the question alright, I wish I had the answer." The Commissioner sighed, brows lowering in thought.

-Batman The New Animated Adventures 1994 Ep: Cold Comfort

[This was a small personal project for me, I had this idea since Into the Spiderverse! I would honestly love some feedback for this! I also would love to hear your guys own ideas in the aak box!]

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hazelfoureyes · 10 months ago

Note

before i never really interacted with blogs(cuz anxiety and very toxic friends had my tumblr, who ive gotten rid of now) but now i literally interact with every post bc of you, you are god and i will worship you, your smut is poetic af and has my legs SHAKING(.literally.)

i am ON MY KNEES❗

also, alastor and his rivals(vox or lucifer) x reader smut? like i know alastor would be petty asf and have them watch as he fucks the living out of their beloved, im curious, do you have any ideas regarding that?(cuz your ideas are delicious and im hungry for that)

You’ve left me speechless which is quite the accomplishment, Darling. I am just a little goblin! Or like the tooth fairy, but instead of teeth I take praise and instead of money I leave filthy smut 🥺 I am so glad you removed the toxic friends and are interacting more. 💖 you deserve better and your interactions are a joy. Thank you for brightening my day! I am so far away and yet you’ve got me blushing like a fool.

oooh yes okay so! Here’s some ideas 👀

•───⋅⋆⁺‧₊👑₊‧⁺⋆⋅───•

Energy for me is Lucifer: Here to please. Alastor: Here to win. I imagine Luci brings you to the hotel for Charlie’s Birthday party, already having a precious casual fling once or twice before. All the guests are there, everyone is dancing and drinking and having a good time. Alastor notices how you call him Luci, how Lucifer cant keep his cool when you lean closer to him when you speak. Naturally, Alastor sees an opportunity to fuck with Lucifer so he asks for a dance. He is uncharacteristically sweet and loving, willing to do anything to get under the king of hell’s skin. He changes the music to something slow, holding you close he whispers in your ear during your dance, “How can any man maintain composure around you? I feel my manners slipping through my fingers every time you look my way.” When you leave the party to cool down, Alastor follows, finding you in an empty room trying to decompress. “Would you hate me if I kissed you? Be forewarned, once I start, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop…”

Lucifer walks in to see you absolutely melting under Alastor, lipstick smeared and face flushed. But Luci adores you, your pleasure is his pleasure and he’s compelled to stay and watch, even as Alastor makes you moan and scream his name. “Who do you belong to, sweetheart?” “Whose cock are you made for?” You’re reduced to incoherent babbling by the time Alastor is finished toying with Lucifer. Lucifer can’t take it anymore and finds himself crawling onto the bed to swallow your moans and shower you in praise.

•───⋅⋆⁺‧₊🖥️₊‧⁺⋆⋅───•

I can see Vox bringing his beloved personal assistant to an overlord meeting for note taking, and Alastor notices your glances to him. Vox adores you, and is always on his best behavior around you to impress you. Alastor waits for you outside of Vee Tower that night for a “chance run in”. “What luck! Allow me to buy you a drink, as a welcome to hell.” Charms you as any good southern boy could, and suggests you both go back to your office for privacy. Knowing full well Vox has cameras all over the office, Alastor fucks Vox’s assistant on his desk while maintaining eye contact with the massive collection of screens there. Vox catches sight of this while skimming through the feeds but can’t break away from the video. Alastor keeps your back to the displays while bouncing you on his cock, smirking at Vox the entire time as he leans back on his desk chair. Vox is seething and finally rushes to his office to find Alastor gone and you lying on your back, still out of breath and cum dripping onto the desk.

Vox keeps you, but gets rid of the desk. He can’t let Alastor have the satisfaction of making him lose his prized employee. For weeks after, while zoning out in board meetings, his screen flashes images of Alastor smirking from over your shoulder as you ride him. He’s entirely unaware that it’s happening and everyone is too scared to tell him.

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ncis-nerd · 17 days ago

Text

Slumber Party

part one || part two

Ship: Rio Vidal x Agatha Harkness x Reader || Professor Valkyrie x Reader || Future WandaNatDanverHill x Reader ;)

Warnings: Vulgar Language, Spanking, Slight Dark Themes, Manipulation?, Gulit Tripping?, Power Tripping?, Praise, Innocence, Degradation, Tears, Mentions of Sex, CALCUS, Brief Exhibitionism, Brief Voyeurism.

A/N: My last day of 4 classes back to back is over so that means the people will be fed ;)

Summary: Her lips ghosted your neck, her teeth bit down into that sweet spot. Nat smirked at your pathetic whimpers. “So loud.. and to think I haven't even began yet!” Natasha exclaimed. Wanda and Maria's eyes focused on you but all you could do was close your eyes. This was so hot, everything you ever wanted.

Word Count: 1.7K

When you received an invite in the mail from the "it girls" in your classes, you didn't expect any of this. You were on your way back from your professor Valkyrie's tutoring. You were struggling in her class so you went to her office hours to ask a few questions.

You were her star student so of course she didn't mind staying after class to provide you with some "extra help".

As the class came to an end, all your classmates began to leave. The room was empty, leaving just you and professor Valkyrie left in the classroom.

You were taking out your textbook to ask your professor some questions when you noticed her sitting on her desk. "So what can I help you with, my prized student?" Valkyrie spoke.

"I needed help understanding this concept, I just can't wrap my finger around it" you groaned in frustration.

Yeah, of course. That is one of the more harder topics so it makes sense that you are struggling. If we're being completely honest, I am just shocked you didn't ask for help sooner. I have been watching you in class and have seen the way you have been struggling." Your professor started to make her way over to you.

Professor Valkyrie laid her hand on your shoulder as you showed her a specific problem in your textbook you were struggling with. You noticed her hand lingering a little too long to be friendly, but you made nothing of it. You were probably just overthinking the situation. She's your professor, it would be inappropriate to think otherwise, you told yourself.

"Hey, are you with me?" Professor Valkyrie said, noticing that you had been in your head and quiet for a while. "Yeah, just stressed. I need to ace this test" you spoke.

"I'm positive you'll do well, you're my best student" she winked, making her way to the white board.

"But worse case, you do fail, then we can talk about ways of making that up" your professor spoke, a hint of suggestiveness in her voice. As if there was more to what she was implying.

Was talking about sex? Your eyes widened but you pushed those thoughts aside, you needed to focus.

"So this is what a partial derivative is" she spoke, facing the white board. Your eyes glanced down at her shirt, more specifically the curve in her back. It was so perfect..

As your eyes linger down further, Valkyrie turned around to trace your eyes on her. She smirked silently to herself as she shot you a firm look. You cowered in your seat, embarrassed.

After a while of conversating with your professor, you were able to nail the concept. Or at least that's what you thought as you made your way back to your dorm.

When you returned, you found a paper slipped under your dorm door. You reached down to pick it up. A wave of confusion filled your head, you didn't talk to much people besides your usual friend group that consisted of Peter, MJ, Ned, Kate and Billy. But they have your number so it couldn't be them.

It couldn't be for Kate because it said "Y/N" in bold letters. You began to open it, "Slumber party"..."Natasha, Wanda, Carol and Maria"... The paper read.

Huh? You thought they were all super pretty but way out of your league, so you were shocked. Was it the wrong "Y/N" maybe? It's a big campus, maybe the invite wasn't meant for you.

You have class with Wanda on Thursday, you could ask her about it then. You sighed, tossing the paper on your desk and taking your place on your bed. Your eyes struggled to stay open. You fell asleep, not wanting to think about calculus again.

You heard silent moans as your eyes fluttered open. You rose up to find THE Agatha and Rio fucking on your couch. Rio's eyes burned into yours, darkening as Agatha pounded into her with her fingers.

"Well, well, well. Look who decided to join the party" Rio smirked, referring to your presence. "O-oh, I u-um" You stuttered as you looked away from the scene in front of you. Both women, fully naked, screwing each other. On your couch??

"Aren't you gonna join us you little pevert?" Agatha hummed, her eyes now on you as well. "W-What" You gasped at the boldness of her words. Agatha and Rio were the power couple on your campus, everyone knew of them. They were so hot and everyone's dream girlfriend's.

"You heard me, are you just going to stand there and watch or join us?" Agatha remarked as you hesitantly made your way over to the pair.

You couldn't believe this was happening.

As you sank down on the couch between the two women, Rio started to leave love bites on your neck as Agatha palmed at your breasts through your shirt. "Let us take care of you" Agatha groaned. As Rio bit down real hard, you opened your eyes.

You jumped in your bed, it wasn't real.

On Wednesday night as you began to get ready for class, you started to think about your dream from the other day.

That was so strange, you've never had a dream like that before. You wonder what caused it. Could it be the stress about the invitation? But Agatha and Rio wouldn't even be there. Their names weren't on the invite. Whatever, you'll find out what's happening tomorrow, for right now you should get some sleep.

The next thing you know, your alarm for precalc is going off. Shoot! How'd you sleep in this long?! You groaned, hurrying to get to class. Your pj bottoms of teddy bears and clouds you deemed presentable enough to go in public, you were regretting but had no time to class. You grabbed your laptop and bookbag and rushed to class.

“And today we will-” Professor Valkyrie paused, the door swung open.

Out of breath, you stutter “I f-fell asleep!” making your way to an empty seat, which was coincidentally by Wanda. “Uh huh, as I was saying..” Professor Valkyrie continued.

Professor Valkyrie raised an eyebrow at you, pausing for a moment before continuing her sentence. "Today we will be focusing on partial derivatives and line integrals".

Your mouth opened slightly as you realized that she was going over the subject you had struggled on, but you went to tutoring so you should be fine right? It felt as if she was testing you, to see if you were paying attention to her during tutoring.

You groaned, realizing she was giving the extra hard questions. You were so screwed.

“Hey-” you whispered, facing the redhead who was not very invested in the class. Wanda's eyes fell on you, your attention on her soft pink lips. “Yeah?” Wanda whispered back. “I think you got the wrong dorm, this was at my door when I got back.” You took the invite out of your bookbag.

"No I didn't. We want you y/n.” Wanda smiled. You coughed loudly. What?! They want me?? Wanda giggled at your response “Let me rephrase that- we want to see you at our sleepover!” Wanda spoke. You were confused.. “Why me? You don't even know me..” You looked at Wanda puzzled.

Professor Valkyrie stared at you for a minute, after your coughing outburst.

After you handed in your paper, you sat at your desk for the remaining time left.

“We've had our eyes on you for a while, y/n. I'm surprised you haven't noticed.” Wanda hums. What did she mean by that? Why were they watching you? You were kind of creeped out but- “Ms Y/N! Ms Maximoff! Got something to share?” Professor Valkyrie glared at you, obviously annoyed. You were late and interrupted class, twice.

More people started to turn in their papers. As everyone left your class, Professor Valkyrie spoke up.

"Y/N, please stay after class for a minute".

Oh you were so, so screwed. You thought to yourself.

"What happened?" Professor Valkyrie frowned, disappointment was present on her face.

"I um-" She cut you off.

"No, I know what happened. You were to busy staring at my ass during tutoring instead of focusing on the equations that I took time out of my day to help you understand. Not only were you late but you were also disruptive of my class, TWICE." Professor Valkyrie spewed.

Your eyes widened as you felt tears fill your face. "W-wait n-no. Th-thats not what" You sniffled, as your words began to slur.

"W-wait n-no- T-thats not" She mocked, as her hand met your face rather harshly. You gasped in shock, feeling the sting on your face from where she slapped you.

"You're going to make it up to me, Y/N. I want you over my desk right now". Valkyrie spoke.

You were so confused but followed her directions, you were bent over her desk, you felt your butt out and exposed.

Valkyrie pulled down your skirt to reveal pink panties with strawberries on them.

She paused for a moment to admire them. "Cute, real cute" She murmured before pulling them down too. "Y'know I may have to confiscate those before you leave" She smiles.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as your tears continued.

"Hey, it's okay. You're okay, I'm just going to spank you for being naughty then you'll be my best student again. Okay, sweetheart?" Professor Valkyrie spoke softly.

You nodded, sniffling quietly. You weren't a bad girl, were you? You thought to yourself. "I want you to count and say thank you Professor after each spank. I'll only give you 10 since I don't want to break you just yet" She spoke.

Break you? What did she mean. You nodded regardless. "Y/N, I need to hear you, use your words doll." She mumbled.

"I understand, thank you Professor" you spoke obediently.

"Good girl" your professor praised.

Her hand met your cheeks, leaving a sting.

"One! Thank you Professor!" You winced, you were never one for pain.

"Two! T-thank you Professor!"

"Stuttering already? Don't worry, we'll fix that later on" Valkyrie spoke, making a mental note to break you in sooner rather than later.

Her hand left a harsher slap this time.

"F-five! Th-thank you P-proffesor!" You murmured.

By the eight spank you were a stuttering mess and your ass was burning. Professor Valkyrie was not gentle with her spanks.

"TEN! THANK YOU PROFESSOR!" You cried out.

"Shh, shh you were such a good girl for me" Valkyrie spoke, admiring how red and raw your ass was.

She brought you into her arms as she caressed your face, admiring your glossy eyes.

With a swift movement, Professor Valkyrie picked up your panties and dropped them in her pocket. "For later" she smiled, winking at you.

A/N: There WILL be a part two, it was too long to make one full story, so it will be broken down into two parts. The next part will be the actual Slumber Party.

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tightjeansjavi · 8 months ago

Text

My Joel,

A/N: I have not written a fic with this many words in a HOT minute, and boy does it feel good! What a cathartic experience this has been for me after writing Joel’s letters. I did not expect so many of you to want Joel and his dearest to have an alternative ending, but here we are 🤭 writing this has been a real treat, and I hope I have done their backstory and alternative ending justice! Buckle up, because you’re in for a wild ride! Thank you to @beardedjoel for letting me spam you with all the updates and screaming along with me 🥹 thank you to @strang3lov3 for betaing and creating these STUNNING divider mood boards for each section of the fic 💘

~word count: 14.4k~

Summary: the story of two forbidden lovers finding each other once more.

Pairing | forbidden lover!joel x f!reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, smut, infertility, canon typical violence, mutual pining, child abuse, mentions of S/A accusations (not by Joel) misogyny (not by Joel) homophobia/homophobic slurs (not by Joel) mutual pining, hopeless romantics, forbidden love, societal status, somewhat historically accurate language, arranged marriage (not to Joel), language, mentions of alcohol and tobacco products, virginity/virginity loss, happy ending/alternative ending, no age gap, reader has no physical descriptions, +18 minors dni!

My Dearest,

June 1st, 1844

“This evening you are to meet the banker's son, daughter.” Your mother’s sickly sweet voice floated through your room, where you sat along the cushioned bench beneath the long window, your palm resting along your chin as you gazed out towards the gardens, the grass an unnatural shade of green compared to the common folk and farmers that would only dream of stepping foot on your family's estate. Your wealth was directly a result of your fathers parents, and their long lineage of thoroughbred horses. Your own mare was a descendant of the original three stallions imported into England in the late 1600’s.

But you were more focused on the man leading your mare, and her two stallions flocking at her hindquarters from the pasture: your Joel.

Joel Miller was a mere stable hand who was entrusted by your father himself to care for your family's prized horses. But to you? Joel was much more than just a stable hand. In fact, you begged your father one summer to increase Joel’s pay when he proved to be knowledgeable with the horses and their needs. Your father agreed, but refused to dote Joel with a new title. He was penniless compared to you, but you saw his heart before you saw his status in society. And he? He loved you from the moment you first met.

Spring, 1839

“Sir, sir!” A young Joel, 13 years of age burst into your fathers parlor, his hand-me-down clothes were soaked to the bone as the storm raged on outside the estate walls. “Dahlia’s womb has breached! Her foal is on the way!” He exclaimed with excitement.

Outside of your families prized stallions, the mares were just as valuable, bearing the next line of champions, no doubt. Dahlia belonged to your mother, and this was her third foal. Your mother couldn’t stand the presence of Joel in her home, dripping all over the floor, creating a puddle of water along the artisan rug beneath his muddy boots.

“Boy!” She snapped, setting her book down along her skirts where she was sitting near the fireplace, with perfect posture. Her eyes held a cold, unnerving stare. “You are in no state to be in my home looking like—” her pointed comment was cut off by the double doors leading to the parlor bursting open, to reveal your excited, and visibly out of breath face.

“Dahlia’s foal is on the way?!”

It was past your bedtime, but down the hall you heard the news of Dahlia, and couldn’t contain yourself. You were still in your nightgown, your hair in braids with bows tied into the ends. Joel felt a flush immediately rise to his damp cheeks at the sight of you. You were as pretty as a flower, the same age as him, and he wondered why this was the first time he’s seen you, till he remembered that most girls your age spent their days indoors preparing for marriage to a suitable husband of their fathers choosing, and inevitably bearing children down the line.

Just as quickly as his gaze fell upon you, he looked away, clearing his throat to hide the redness rising in his cheeks.

“Daughter!” Your mother scolded you when you rushed into the room and didn’t curtsy upon your arrival. She had yet to notice the bows in your hair when you quickly curtsied, fingers delicately grasping the hem of your nightgown as you bent down at the waist, one foot in front of the other just as it was ingrained into your brain for years. “Apologies, mother.” You softly squeaked out in embarrassment.

She shook her head, a displeasured look fell upon her hardened features. She rose from the couch, silk shawl clenched in her fist as she crossed the room and draped the garment across your shoulders. “Cover up your modesty.” She snapped unkindly. “Men should never see a lady in her night garments.”

I am not a lady, mother. I am a child! Is what you wanted to say, but instead you weakly nodded, muttering another apology under your breath. That’s when your mother took notice of your braids and the bows tied at the ends of them, a sign of innocent youth when you were to become a woman. She scoffed, nose upturning at the sight of them. Her cruel hand rose and fell, landing harshly against your soft cheek.

Joel visibly flinched from the sound, feeling his blood begin to boil under his soaked clothing. You had done nothing wrong! And who in their right mind slaps their own child!

Your skin stung, tears welling and nearly breaching down your cheeks when she yanked the bows from your braids and mockingly held them in front of your face. “These are for little girls. You are to become a woman, or have you forgotten?”

Your lower lip wobbled, and your knees trembled. Your eyes frantically searched the room, landing upon your father who paid no mind to your distress. He was too busy puffing away on his cigar, and even if he didn’t agree with his wife’s treatment upon you, he didn’t dare speak up about it.

“Joel, be a good lad and fetch my daughters coat. I will not be treading out in a storm such as that one, but someone from our family should be present for the birth of Dahlias foal.” He gruffed out. “Let us hope for a strong colt. There are too many fillies prancing around here.”

“Sir—” Joel started, but was cut off.

“Fetch her coat, and do not make me ask you a third time, boy.” He sternly reiterated.

“Yes, sir. Right away!” He nodded, quickly turning on his heel and exited the parlor, his eyes met your teary-eyed one briefly before he disappeared behind the open doors.

“Our daughter has no business going out in this storm, husband! Especially not with the likes of that—boy.” She seethed, stepping back from your trembling frame and walked in the direction of the fire, the now crumpled bows in her fist. She wasted no time to throw them directly into flames, watching as they were burnt up into ash immediately.

“Relax, wife.” Your father sighed, tapping out the ash from his cigar into the crystal ashtray along the table, “she is in good hands with Joel, I trust him.”

“Excuse me, miss?” a timid, youth filled voice appeared behind your shoulder, hand outstretched with your coat grasped between his fingers.

You sniffled, turning to face him and quickly wiped at your brewing tears with the back of your hand. “Thank you, Joel.” You whispered, fingers brushing his gently as you removed your coat from his grasp.

He nearly shied from your touch, a series of tingles and sparks shooting up his spine when he felt your soft touch for the first time. You reacted all the same; shocked gazes meeting before he was stepping to the side for you to pass by him first, a gentleman in nature despite coming from nothing. He cleared his throat, offering you his elbow to brace against the pounding rain and blustering winds. “I’ve got you, miss.” He whispered as your palm gently rested along the crook of his elbow.

Despite your mother’s incessant protests, Joel Miller guided you outside, acting as a physical shield as you endured the storm together. Once inside the safety of the barn, Joel parted from your side, grabbing a nearby stool for you to sit upon before entering Dahlia’s stall. You watched in pure curiosity and amazement as Joel spoke softly to the mare while her head rested in his lap. Beast trusted man; man trusted beast.

When Dahlia’s foal was born, she was not blessed with a strong colt like your father hoped for, but instead a filly. She was smaller than Dahlia’s other foals, and coal black unlike her mother’s dazzling, dappled silver coat. Joel helped the young filly stand on her long, spindly legs so that she could nurse. He was incredibly gentle, letting the filly lean her weight into him. Although Joel knew he was not allowed to name the horses, he started to call the filly ‘Little Shadow’ and only left the stall when he was certain she could stand on her own.

That’s when he remembered he wasn’t alone, and that you were still sitting upon the stool, hands clasped in your lap.

“Wanna meet her?” He suddenly asked, wiping his hands down on a nearby towel.

“Oh…” you trailed off, “I’m unsure if—”

“Nonsense.” He shook his head, a small, boy-like grin tugging on his lips. “M’sure your father would want you to have the full experience, would he not?”

“Yes, I suppose he would.” You agreed and graciously took his hand when he offered it. “He will be displeased to hear that Dahlia did not bear a strong colt.”

“I never understood that.” He mused, helping you down from the stool and gently released your hand. “A healthy foal, no matter the sex, is better than an unhealthy one, is it not?”

“Yes, this is true.” You nervously toyed with a loose thread on your coat, avoiding making eye contact with him. “She is…small though, is she not?”

He took no offense to your lack of direct eye contact. He felt undeserving to be in your presence, let alone hold your gaze? “Forgive me if this comes across negatively, miss. But must you always speak so…proper?”

You turned your nose up at his question, dropping the loose thread from your fingertips, “I am to be a lady, Joel. This is how ladies talk.”

He snorted under his breath, shaking his head and shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “I suppose you are right. And to answer your question, she may be smaller than the rest of Dahlia’s offspring, but her legs are long, and strong.” He commented thoughtfully as he walked over to the nursing foal. “She will be a winner one day, no doubt.”

“Do you wish to name her, Joel?” You asked softly, standing alongside him with your hand outstretched to gently pet the fillies jet black neck.

“Oh, miss—I could never. I was only calling her Little Shadow because well, she is like a Little Shadow.”

“I don’t think father would approve of Little Shadow…but I think Shadow is a fine name for her, sir.”

“Miss, I am not a sir.” He sighed, reaching behind him to rub the back of his neck. “I’m just a stable hand. I do not possess any titles, and I never will. I agree, Shadow is a fine name for her.”

“Joel, I have heard that you are more than just a stable hand, but I address every man as sir. It’s how I have been taught.”

He looked over at you, eyes scanning the side of your face, the same side where your cheek had been struck by your mothers cruel hand. “That it be true, I am not a man, miss. I am just a boy.”

Silence fell between the two of you while you continued to gently stroke Shadow’s neck. You could feel Joel’s gaze landing on your cheek, but you chose to ignore it despite the heat that was slowly beginning to rise to your cheeks.

“Miss…?” He sounded unsure of himself, nervous, apprehensive of the words he was about to speak next,

“Yes, Joel?”

“Forgive me, I should not be uttering these words to a lady like yourself, but the bows in your hair…I thought they were quite—pretty.” He whispered the last bit, expecting you to scold him, to scream, and surely send him to the gallows for even thinking of you in that inappropriate manner, but instead, you smiled softly.

“Thank you, Joel. Mother…doesn’t approve of them. Says they are for little girls, and not for a lady to be. But they are just ribbons, are they not? I like how they look, and I wish she did too.” You sighed, eyes casting downwards.

He was more bold this time around as the images of your mothers hand making contact with your soft cheek flashes in his mind, “she should have never laid a hand upon you like that, miss. You did nothing wrong! Forgive me—I have forgotten my place.” He dropped his chin between his shoulders in shame.

You wept then, fat tears rolling down your cheeks at the phantom sting of your mothers palm. You slowly sank down into the straw bed, head in your hands. You looked so small, frail, weak, and Joel never wanted you to feel this way again.

At first he didn’t know how to react to your distress, but soon he found himself sinking down to his knees in front of you, his hands trembling as he reached out to grasp your covered shoulders, “my dearest, do not weep, please. Your mother has never learned kindness in her life, but you? You—” he struggled to find his words, his empathetic nature coming out in full swing.

You slowly tilted your chin upwards to meet his gaze, glassy eyes boring into his. You both took a sharp inhale of breath, time seemed to cease completely. The storm outside raged on, the wind whipped and howled outside the heavy barn doors when Joel Miller’s calloused palms gently cradled your face, thumbs brushing away your glistening tears.

1842

Spring turned to summer, summer to fall, and fall to winter. Your Joel transformed into a man before your very eyes. In your youth he showed you how to run, to make mud pies, to swim in the river, despite your mothers disapproval. Your father showed an inkling of care to allow your years before marriage to be spent with Joel by your side.

On the approach of your sixteenth birthday, Joel Miller no longer looked like a boy in your eyes. He was a man, and for the first time in your life, you felt that forbidden part between your thighs come alive at the sight of him. He had grown taller, his arms filling in, paired with strong thighs. The muscles in his back and shoulders were defined with laborious hours of work. His chiseled jaw was speckled with facial hair, paired with unruly curls that you wished you could feel their softness between your fingers. You found yourself transfixed by his lips and often imagined how they would feel pressed to yours in a heated embrace. The only thing about your Joel that didn’t change with age was his eyes; the deepest pools of brown that always appeared lighter when he was graced with your presence.

Your father treated him like a son, inviting him out on the weekends to go fox hunting with your brothers. The prospect of attending college was even on the horizon for him, and Joel could taste his new life brewing on his tongue. His feelings grew for you over the years, feeling his heart flutter and clench whenever you would look his way. Even in your modest attire, he envisioned your womanly figure beneath your layers of tooled skirts. Every night before he laid his body to sleep, he would imagine your lips pressing to his own until the thought of it had begun to drive him mad.

So upon your sixteenth birthday, he approached your father in his office with only one thought on his mind; asking for your fathers permission, and blessing to court, and eventually marry you.

“Come in.” Your father’s voice rasped behind the closed door.

Joel took a deep breath, rubbing his sweaty palms along the front of his trousers, bringing one hand up to smooth down his untamed curls. His calloused palm grasped the brass handle and slowly pushed it open.

Your father was seated behind his desk, cigar smoke wafting through the air in a swirling pattern from where it rested between his lips. He looked at Joel expectantly, arms crossed behind his head in a lax position. “Joel, my boy. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Joel stepped inside the room, closing the door behind him softly. He momentarily glanced out a large window overlooking the gardens where in just a few hours, your party would be in full swing. “Good afternoon, sir.” He nodded curtly, “beautiful day we’re having, yes? The weather will be exceptional for your daughter's birthday this evening.”

My Dearest.

“Yes, indeed. The weather has been lovely.” Your father mused. “If you’re asking if you can attend tonight’s festivities, you already know my answer, Joel. The lady of the house wouldn’t stand for it.” He waved his hand in a dismissive manner.

“Yes, of course, sir. I won’t be on the grounds this evening. A few friends have invited me to the tavern for drinks. I won’t be out late, I swear it.”

“I see.” Your father nodded, “a handsome young man such as yourself oughta get out there more.” He agreed, “So, what are you here for then?”

Shit.

“Sir, I have—known your daughter for many years now, as you are aware. I am also aware that she has many suitors lined up to offer her hand in marriage, but sir, if I was given your blessing, and permission, I would—”

“Joel.” Your father’s tone cut through the younger man like a sharpened blade. “My daughter has already been promised to another. Do not take me for a fool, boy. I have seen the way your gaze lingers on her longer than what would even be described as appropriate. I see the way she looks at you, Joel. I have bit my tongue on this matter because I happen to like you, son. What I can offer you is another lady, at your choosing. You can live a happy, comfortable life and hold a title that you would never otherwise possess. My suggestion is that you accept my generous offer, and throw away your fantasy of ever marrying my daughter.”

Joel swallowed his disappointment down with a heavy gulp. He was naive to believe that he could ever be granted with your fathers blessing. How foolish of him to believe that a man such as himself, would ever end up with the likes of you. It was a fantasy, an unattainable dream that he was better off extinguishing now instead of dwelling on what could never be. He nodded slowly, trying to ignore the way his heart submerged to the very pits of his stomach. “I understand, sir.” He finally spoke.

“Good lad. I knew you were a smart one from the start. Now, this stays between you and I, alright?”

“Of course, sir.”

“Good. You didn’t hear this from me, but the lady of the house plans to retire early this evening. If you see the opportunity to whisk my daughter away for one evening, take it. If it sours, do not even think about taking me down with you. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

“Sir?” Joel sounded confused, his eyes going wide momentarily, “I’m confused—”

“Treat my daughter to a night that she will never forget, so that in her later years, when she is in misery after bearing her husband's children, and finds herself in a loveless marriage, she will have her memories of you to look back on. Do not, and I mean by any means, get caught and throw your life away so foolishly.”

“I—I understand, sir.” He stuttered out, his heart lurching in his chest at the prospect of one evening with you in his embrace. “Thank you, sir. Thank you.” He gushed earnestly.

“Leave now, Joel. Do not speak of this to anyone.”

“I won’t, sir. I promise.”

All evening you danced merrily and socialized with the upper socialites of Texas with a fake smile plastered on your pretty painted lips. You searched high and low for your Joel all evening. Your gaze lingered, heart skipping a beat anytime a man that resembled him would stride past, only to be met with bitter disappointment when they would turn their cheek towards you and the resemblance would dissipate like the bubbles in your champagne flute. Your mother had retired for the evening, and your father was in his parlor with his colleagues, smoking, drinking, and playing hands of poker.

And then you felt a presence brush past your bare shoulder, the skirts of your dress ruffling in the warm summer breeze. A shred of parchment was placed into your palm discreetly as you watched the inconspicuous figure disappear in the direction of the nearby stables. Once you were certain no one was paying any attention to you, you unfolded parchment, your heart surging at the familiar penmanship.

My Dearest,

Happy sixteenth birthday. Meet me at the stables in exactly one hour.

Your Joel

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, the butterflies erupted and fluttered wildly in your stomach, Your Joel. You brought the parchment to your lips, kissing his words, your lashes fluttering shut.

As the minutes ticked by, your excitement heightened, and when it was ten minutes to the hour, you snuck off to the stables with a visible pep in your step. The barn door was left ajar upon your entering, and when you turned the corner, you found your Joel inside of Shadow’s stall, bows and flowers were braided delicately throughout her luscious mane and tail. When he sensed your presence, he turned around, the biggest grin plastered on his face, dimples peeking through, one stray curl falling across his forehead that was begging to be brushed away by your soft fingertips.

“Joel.” You breathed out, smile mimicking his own.

“My Dearest.” His heart surged in his chest, and then you were launching yourself into his arms unexpectedly. He caught you, of course, hugging you tightly to his broad frame. “No one saw you, right?”

“No.” You shook your head, wrapping your arms around his neck while his hands fell to your waist. “Shadow looks beautiful! What’s the occasion?”

He chuckled warmly, tilting his forehead to rest upon yours with a sigh of relief, “she doesn’t look nearly as beautiful as you, darlin.’ And why for your birthday, of course!”

His warm, timbre laugh sent your stomach somersaulting, and your mind feeling dizzy. “An evening ride through the countryside, is that my present from you?” You teased him lightly, threading your fingers through the back of his hair.

“No, no, my sweet. It’s actually…a surprise. Are you up for it? Oh! You’ll be needing these, however.” He reluctantly departed from your embrace, stepping off to the side to lift a rucksack from the ground. “I believe they’re your size.”

You raised a curious brow as he handed the rucksack off to you. “You mean, I get an excuse to wear something outside of my fine dresses?” You gasped softly.

“Mhm.” He nodded, smile playing on his lips at your pure excitement over something so small. “I’ll uh—give you some privacy to change.” He cleared his throat, eyes dancing in the direction opposite of you as he turned on his heel so his back would be facing you.

Secretly, you wanted him to see you undress from your obnoxious layers and reveal your untouched skin to his admiring gaze. The times that you would swim in the river together were different. You were both still children, and your womanly curves hadn’t made their appearance just yet.

He silently listened to your fine skirts fall to the dusty barn floor and he was half tempted to peek, but remained respectful as you undressed. Once you gave him the okay, he slowly turned around to face you once more. Gone were your frilly heavy skirts that dragged along the floor with each step that you took. Your skirt was still long, but not as weighted and while the bodice was still fairly constricting, the sleeves were dainty and hung off the side of your shoulders like silk drapery. Your mother would certainly have a fit if she saw you dressed so un-modestly.

“So…” You trailed off, “how do I look?” You twirled on your heel, your smile never faltering.

He unashamedly looked you up and down, twice, before one strong arm looped around your waist and pulled you flush against his chest, caging you against him.

“Pardon my French, mademoiselle, but you look fuckin’ stunning.”

You giggled, hands resting against his chest to brace yourself against him. It was the sweetest sound that had ever graced his ears; your laugh.

“Thank you, sir. Mother would scold me if she saw me dressed like this!” You giggled again when his nose came to nuzzle against your cheek, bristles in his beard gently scraping against your skin, “she would, my dearest. But don’t worry about any of that, okay? Tonight you will have the time of your life with me, and your mother will have no say in it.” He assured you.

—

You rode into town on horseback, Shadow moving swiftly with Joel steering her with the reins and you behind him with your arms wrapped around him, pressing yourself as close to his back as possible. You had never been to a tavern before, but tonight would certainly be a night of firsts.

Your first sips of Ale were with Joel by your side, his shoulder brushing yours as he leaned over, warm breath fanning your face as he asked you what you thought about the taste.

Truthfully? Ale was not your first drink of choice, but you had an understanding for the appeal of it. Joel agreed, and whispered in your ear that he thought it tasted like shit. His tone and crude remark sent you giggling in tandem.

Now, whiskey on the other hand? You enjoyed the smoky flavor that lingered on your tongue and the way it instantly sent a warm fire simmering in your belly, and heat to flood your cheeks. You danced, laughed, drank and you even played a hand of poker! No one in the tavern knew of your status, your wealth. Everyone in the rowdy establishment was just there living, and you silently wished for your life to always be this freeing.

When the tavern closed for the night, you and Joel strolled down the street, hand in hand. The late evening air held that familiar summer sweetness, crickets chirping, fireflies dancing around your heads. Another pair of lovers strolled in front of you and Joel, seemingly unable to keep their hands off of one another as they neared the town inn. Would that be you and your Joel?

His palm felt clammy in your palm, but his face gave no distinction that he was absolutely freaking the fuck out inside at the prospect of finally getting the privilege to press his lips to yours.

“Shadow is staying at the inn’s barn for the evening, my dearest. It’s far too late for either of us to return back to the estate…” he trailed off, eyes casting in your direction to await your response.

“Joel…” you sighed, loosening your grip around his hand, nearly dropping it entirely. “We—we have to go back. Father, mother—”

“My dearest, your mother has retired early for the evening, and your father is probably too deep in a hand of poker to even notice your absence.” He spoke softly, slowly bringing your entwined fingers up to his face, illuminated in a soft, warm glow from the flickering street lights lining the walkway. He brushed his lips against the outside of your hand, eyes locking onto yours, “I understand if you don’t desire me the way I desire you, my dearest. And if that is the case, we can leave immediately—”

“I—I desire you plenty, my Joel. All evening at the party, I kept seeing the resemblance of your beautiful face in every male passerby, but none of them were you. I’m just—I’m so afraid, Joel. My heart—it feels so deeply for you, but it’s forbidden. You and I both know the bitter truth of what we can never be.”

“My dearest, tonight we need not be afraid, okay? It is your birthday, your special day, and there is nowhere else in this world that I would rather be, than here with you. I ask you for nothing, only to trust me. Trust your Joel.”

You could feel yourself caving into his words, your body drawn to be closer to him as if by some invisible force pulling you into his chest. “I trust you always, my Joel.”

He nodded, pressing another sweet kiss to the outside of your hand. You moved in sync, his strong, broad body caging you against the brick wall of the inn, his hands, calloused and warm, holding your face between them as if you were fine delicate china. His forehead came to rest upon yours, warm breath fanning your face, “can I kiss you, my dearest?”

“Please, my Joel.” You breathed out, fingers gently resting along the nape of his neck. “You—you will be my first.” You whispered.

“And you will be mine, my dearest.” He rasped, thumbs gently stroking your cheekbones, feeling his heartbeat faster, and faster, when his lips finally brushed upon your own, both of your inexperience showing, but nature took over when your lips finally met, pressing against one another. Your breath hitched in your throat, fingers tightening around his soft curls, pulling him in closer. You wanted to crawl inside his skin, make a home inside of his heart and never leave.

“I—have never felt a sweetness upon my lips till I have kissed you, my dearest.” He murmured sweetly against your locked lips, taking the leap of what felt right when your lips parted like the narrow sea for him to slowly lick into your mouth so your tongues could meet, and dance.

An unexpected moan slipped past your lips when he licked into your mouth, a sound only for his ears, sending blood flowing southwards beneath his trousers and directly to his groin. He parted from the kiss momentarily, a string of translucent saliva hung between your swollen lips. He dived back in seconds later, but this time you felt his lips upon your neck, sucking, kissing, licking at your throat and all the way back up to your lips.

“I scraped up enough money to afford us a night at the inn, my dearest.” He let out a soft grunt when your nails lightly scratched his scalp, and your fingers tugged on the root of his curls, “do you wish to—”

“Yes, my Joel.” You didn’t even wait for him to finish his question, you already knew your answer was going to be yes.

He chuckled at your eagerness, letting his hands drop from your face and rest along your waist, pulling you flush against his chest, “lay beside me tonight, my love?”

“Yes, my Joel. I wish for that.”

He smiled into the kiss, the butterflies in his own stomach were no longer fluttering wildly, his nerves were gone because never in his life had he been more sure about his feelings till now. It was a moment of calm that both you and he felt in one another’s embrace. “Then let it be known that tonight, beneath the stars, I will make love to you, my dearest.” The words he spoke fell like a sweet oath upon your lips.

You kissed him once more, before your lips parted, but only for a little while. He took your hand in his, fingers entwined and led you to the entrance of the inn. The room was paid for, and the excitement was beginning to tingle once more as he unlocked the door to the room you would share. A single bed to accommodate you both.

And when he laid you down, fitting in the space between your thighs, kissing every inch of your untouched skin, drawing sounds from your throat that you had never felt, nor heard before. Calloused palms moved with languid ease, undressing you with methodical care. You did the same to him, marveling at the flex of his muscles beneath your touch. He was so gentle, so patient as you parted for him like a blooming flower. He kissed you there, too. Dark head of curls moving between your thighs, strong fingers spreading you open where his tongue quickly found the little bud that had your whole body quivering, and your back bowing, arching from the mattress.

He kissed, licked, worshiped, suckled on your womanhood, the taste of you was something so foreign, yet familiar, and his cock grew heavy between his thighs, hips rutting into the mattress for any form of relief.

Your speech was slurred, broken, fragmented moans dangling from your lips, and you were only able to say one word; his name.

Joel, Joel, Joel, Joel.

And when the coil in deep within your tummy was pulled tight, and a burning warmth that could only be described as the feeling of heaven on earth, traveled from the tips of your toes and up your spine, you convulsed around his tongue, eyes rolling back into your skull, muscles spasming, your cunt pulsing, leaking along the sheets. He lapped up every sweet drop of your release, swallowing it down as if he was quenched with thirst. His eyes opened, dark pools of brown staring intensely into yours, grinning like a devil. His chin and beard glistening in your sweet nectar, illuminated by the pale moonlight casting in through the thin, billowing curtains.

He kissed up your body, finding your lips and molding his tongue around yours so you could taste yourself, too. He whispered sweet nothings between kisses when the heavy weight of his cock slowly began to press into you. Tears sprung from the sudden sharp pain caused by the stretch of him easing inside of you. He kissed away your tears, shushing you softly and promising you that it would feel good so soon, my dearest.

Your nails left crescents in his back, thighs wrapping around his waist when he was fully sheathed inside of your pulsing, hugging warmth. It was the tightest vice he ever did feel, and he never wanted to part from you.

“I’ve got you, my dearest.” He whispered upon your lips, drawing his hips back slowly, oh so slowly, before guiding them forward. The coarse dark hair on his pubic bone brushed against your own with each gentle thrust he gave you. A rhythm set in with his movements, your body naturally began to mold to his as you became one. Sweat soaked skin, tangled moans and limbs, wet kisses and words of love shared between what little space was left between you.

And when he spilled his seed deep within your womb, and he moaned your name, proclaiming his love and devotion for you with his face buried against your neck. You refused to part from one another, even as his cock softened inside of you, and your cunt no longer fluttered. You pressed your lips to his scruffy cheek, tangled your fingers through his now sweat soaked curls that were matted to his forehead and back of his neck. You held him, and he held you as the sun slowly began to rise, and the birds chirped cheerfully just outside the window.

“I don’t want to go home, my Joel. I want to stay here, with you…forever.” You whispered softly through the early morning air.

He shifted deep within you, lifting his chin and turned his cheek to the side, brushing his lips sweetly against your soft cheek. His eyes were sleepy, a dopey, boyish grin graced his features, lips curved in a perfect pout, swollen with your kisses, “I need not yet to part from you, my love. But I must return you home before your father and mother awake.”

You sighed softly, dropping your fingers from their grip on his hair to then drag across his jaw, nuzzling your nose against his and pressed a kiss to his lips, “our home, my Joel.” You gently reminded him.

He kissed you back, lashes fluttering shut to savor the moment before opening again so he could once again gaze upon your face and paint a picture in his memory to hold onto forever, “our home, my dearest.”

Reality began to rear its ugly head into both of your minds and he reluctantly parted from your kiss, drawing his hips back slowly to release his cock from your warmth. “We must return home, my dearest.” He sat back on his haunches, his softened cock wet, sticky with a mix of your combined releases and a thin layer of blood.

You slowly sat up, taking the coarse sheet with you as you gazed upon his groin for the first time. Even soft now, your sex induced eyes widened at the girth of him.

He, however, was more focused on the stain of blood on his skin, and swiped his thumb across it before his gaze landed on you, “have you…bled before, my sweet?”

You nodded, “yes, my Joel. I bleed the same time every month since my thirteenth birthday. Mother told me that it means I am ready to bear children, and I have become a woman. She told me that I would bleed again when my husband makes love to me for the first time.”

His chin falls between his shoulders, feeling them sink from the realization that he would never be your husband, and you would never be his wife. “Does it hurt…to bleed? Did I hurt you, my love?”

You shook your head, letting the sheets drop from your chest as you reached out to comfort him. “No, my love. It can be uncomfortable, but you did not hurt me. A dull sting is all I felt, nothing more. You took care of me.”

He reached for your hand, squeezing it gently as you emerged from under the covers, “my dearest, what is to happen if…you end up bearing my children? We are both so young, I wish not to steal what remains of your youth. You deserve so much more than only what is expected of you, my lady.”

You found yourself straddling his hips with your thighs on either side of him, caging his body around yours while his arms wrapped around your waist, using his core strength to stay upright as your hands came to rest upon his face, “if I bear your children, then we could marry, Joel. We could—be together!” You spoke excitedly.

“My dearest, I—have nothing to offer you. I am penniless…we are not of the same status, and your mother and father would never allow it.” His thumbs gently stroked the dimples in your back at the bottom of your spine.

“I will speak with my father! He will understand, he must! No man will ever wish to marry me if I am bearing another’s child! Father—he’ll have to agree!”

“My dearest, what if my seed doesn’t take to your womb the first time? What if we are unable—”

You cut him off with a swift kiss to his lips, pulling him in close with your hand resting along the nape of his neck, “then we keep trying till my womb is swelling with life.”

He kissed you deeply, feeling his cock begin to stir to life between your tightly pressed bodies. He nodded, a silent agreement as he dropped one hand from where it rested against your spine and dragged it between you so that he could grasp the base of his cock and slowly press himself inside of you once more.

By the time you and Joel arrived back at the estate, the sun was already beginning to rise high above the sky. The stables were empty upon your arrival as Joel helped you dismount from Shadow. He urged you to change back into your attire that you wore to the party so that your mother, nor father would raise their suspicions. You parted ways with a kiss, a longing behind his lips as he watched you leave his embrace and walk back into the life you had always known.

At the breakfast table your mother was quick to question why you were not present in your chambers at sunrise, but you already had a rehearsed script planned in your mind. Without missing a beat, you told the story of how you had a few too many flutes of champagne, and fell asleep in the gardens.

Your mother, of course, scolded you, but your father? He had a hidden, knowing smile playing beneath his mustache.

You and Joel were extremely cautious and strategic when it came to planning your rendezvous. They happened frequently, under the cover of night when everyone was sleeping. Sometimes in the stables, sometimes in the gardens, and you even returned to the inn a few times in secret. He could not get enough of you, your kisses, or your touch. The feeling was mutual, and you both knew that the deep, profound feelings you were both experiencing was not infatuation or lust, no, you and Joel Miller were madly, deeply, tragically in love with one another.

Even in the daytime he would seek your presence, asking your father if he could accompany you on a ride through the countryside as your guide, and protector. You had picnics by the river where he would lay his head upon your skirts, eyes closed blissfully as he listened to you read love stories from Shakespeare till he would drift off, soft snores escaping his lips, your voice lulling him to a sweet slumber. Your horses would graze side by side, his stallion, your mare. Their tails swishing to fight off the pesky flies.

Upon the approach of your eighteenth birthday, you wept in Joel’s arms, for no matter how many times he spilled his seed inside of you, your womb did not swell with life; his child. You feared that his love for you would sour and rot when you broke the mournful news to him beneath comfort of the shimmering moon, and twinkling stars.

“My dearest, why do you weep? Who, or what has caused my sweet love to shed her tears?” He sank to his knees with you crumbling in his arms. His heart felt like it was being shredded to fragmented pieces when your sobs echoed off the nearby hedges in the garden where your embrace was hidden.

“My Joel!” You cried, clawing at his arms with fat, heavy tears streaming down your cheeks, “I—I’m so sorry. I have let you down, my love.”

“My dearest, how have you let me down? Tell me what is wrong! What has happened?” He spoke urgently, tone hushed.

“My womb does not swell with life, Joel! We have tried, and tried! No matter how many times, it has been fruitless! I bear you no sons, no daughters—” you wailed mournfully.

“My sweet, are you certain of this? Oh, my girl…” he felt his own tears begin to prick his eyes as he began to gently rock you in his arms. “Do you weep in sadness, or in fear? I do not care that you cannot bear me any children, my dearest. My love for you will never sour.”

“Do not lie to me, lover!” You were on the edge of snapping through your tears, “when my sole purpose in this life is to marry and bear children to my husband! There must be something wrong with me, Joel! How can you say you love me when I cannot be the woman I am expected to be! I never can fucking—”

You surprised yourself and him by your sudden crude language, but then again, spending as much time as you did with Joel, his verbiage began to rub off on you, and yours onto him.

“Then don’t be the woman you are expected to be, my love! There is nothing wrong with you. Nothing, do you hear me? I love you as you are! You are my lady, for fucks sakes! You can be whoever you want to be with me! Do you wish to be a poet? Be one! Do you wish to be a scholar? A singer? Do you wish to live a normal life where your choices are not already chosen for you?!” His voice cracked, coming out as a hoarse rasp deep from within his chest.

You fought the urge to scoff and chide him for being so naive. “My life will never be normal! Don’t you understand?! All I know is what has been chosen for me! It doesn’t matter what I want, Joel! I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth! My studies, my thoughts, opinions, have all been predisposed! Even the fucking food I consume, and the clothing on my back has been chosen for me!”

“Of course I understand! All I have ever done is understand that you and I were never cut from the same cloth! And yet, I love you all the same because what else is a man to do? My sweet, we are weeks away from your eighteenth birthday! We can run away together and carve out the life of our choosing! Fuck your parents, fuck the society we live in! Do you want to marry a man you don’t love and live in misery?! Or do you want the chance to live! To wake up at your choosing, to wear what you desire, to love freely with no prejudice? To never again live under your parents control? Don’t you want to…love me?” He was exasperated, chest heaving, nostrils flaring from the pure passion oozing from his words.

You fell silent, your lower lip wobbling, eyes glassy with tears as you looked into his eyes, taking in the redness in his cheeks, the puffing of his chest—the love pooling in his dark irises, “of course I want to love you, my Joel. I—I’m afraid! Can’t you see that? I’m expected to marry and bear my husband's children and now I cannot! If we run away together, I’ll never be able to return home! What if our love isn’t destined to make it! What if we fail—”

“Of course I can see you’re afraid, my girl. I see it in your eyes and hear it in your voice! You are safe here, with me. With your Joel! I would never, ever, ever let anything happen to you. We may not live a life of riches, but we would live a life rich in love! I—I can get a job! I will work until my bones break if it means that I get to be with you. I’ll work the railways, the mines! Any job that I can take, I will, and I’ll do it all for you.”

You kissed him then, tasting the salt from your own tears and his upon your locked lips. “We’ll move west! As far west as we can! We’ll see the ocean for the first time, plot out our land and live out our days together!” You murmured against his lips.

“California.” He promised you, kissing you deeply as his hands came to cradle your face, “a sheep ranch with Shadow and Sunfyre.”

“Why sheep, lover?” You asked softly between desperation filled kisses,

“They’re quiet, do as they're told.” He teased, chuckling when you gently swatted at his chest for making such a comment.

“Ha, ha, very funny.” You giggled, which soon turned into a moan when his fingers slipped down to your waist and hastily began to unlace your bodice, while your hand drifted downwards to undo the string on his trousers. Neither of you knew that one of your own ladies, the same lady that had been promised to Joel by your father, caught the two of you in the gardens while she was out for a midnight stroll. Her presence was undetected as you sank down around Joel’s cock beneath your skirts, moaning his name unashamedly as your entwined bodies moved in sync.

June 1st, 1844

“Yes, mother.” You responded in a practiced, complacent sweetness to appease her.

“He will make a fine husband to you, one day.” She added, her perfectly dainty fingers came to rest upon your shoulder, squeezing it with anything but a comforting touch. She didn’t notice the way your gaze lingered on your secret lover, nor did she sense your longing.

“Yes, he will, mother. I look forward to making his acquaintance.”

“Good. You have grown into being a fine young woman, daughter. Your father and I are so very proud of you.”

If only they knew that you were not the perfect, proper lady than they believed you to be, and that your heart belonged to another man.

Your Joel had requested a private audience with your father leading up to the festivities surrounding your monumental birthday. And so after bringing the horses in from the pasture, he made his way to your fathers office, closing the door quietly behind him when he was given permission to enter.

“Sir, I have wonderful news to bestow upon you, Shadow is expectin’. She was showin’ early signs a few weeks back, but it is official.”

“Wonderful news indeed, Joel. And who is the lucky stud?” Your father asked, despite already knowing the answer.

“Sunfyre, sir.”

“Ahh. What a combination. A filly, as black as the night, and a colt, as golden as the sun. I wonder what their offspring will look like.” He mused.

Joel swallowed the lump growing in his throat, his palms growing clammier by the second. He took a deep breath to calm his budding nerves, “Sir, I need to disclose something to you, but before I do, I just wanted to say that I have appreciated being able to confide in you in some capacity. I am grateful that you have taken me under your wing and offered me the chance at having a better life, but your daughter—”

“Joel.” He warned, leaning forward in his chair with his hands clasped together. “Be extremely careful with your choice in words for whatever it is you are about to tell me. Perhaps I need to remind you where your place is? Maybe I should have been wary of confiding in you, boy.”

“Sir, please. You must hear this! If you care about your daughter's happiness, and her well being, you will listen to what I have to say. I swear that our conversations have remained confidential! I have spoken about them to no one, I swear it!”

Your father let out a deep sigh, bringing his hands to his face where he pressed the pads of his fingers into the deep set wrinkles in his forehead. “Go on then.”

“Your daughter—she is unable to bear children. She is afraid of what is to become of her if she cannot bear children for her future husband, sir. And I fear for her as well! Sir, men are unkind, and she is sweet. She is sweet and kind and deserving—”

Your fathers heart slowly began to sink, his composure crumbled because of his darling little girl, who would certainly face a life of hardship and misery if you could not bear children and enact your duties as a perfect wife for your husband. He didn’t agree with it, but that was how society worked. Men ruled the house, and the women cared for their husbands and children. “How do you know of this, Joel?” Your fathers tone wavered, his eyes casting in Joel’s direction and he saw a younger version of himself in your forbidden lover.

“Sir, you know the answer to your own question.” Joel nearly whispered, avoiding direct eye contact and let his gaze fall to a portrait behind your fathers desk, two young men with their arms around one another’s shoulders.

“You love her, don’t you?” His question hung heavy in the air.

Joel froze like a deer that was inevitably caught by hunters in the meadow. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t think as he listened to the sound of blood rushing in his ears and his pulse pounding, “with all of my heart, sir.”

Your father slowly nodded his head in understanding as he let out a sigh, “then you must know that you have to swallow down your feelings for my daughter for her benefit and your own. You are playing a dangerous game, Joel. One that could very well cost you your life.”

“I don’t fucking care. I have never loved another being outside of your daughter. Our love may be frowned upon and forbidden, but it is real. I have felt for her since I was just a mere boy, when the storm was raging outside and she accompanied me to see the birth of Dahlia’s foal. My love for her will never sour, it will never over ripen and rot like the low hanging fruit upon the trees. I have nothing to offer her but my heart, and that holds a weight more valuable than gold or silver.”

Your father smiled, one that did not reach his eyes as he slowly stood from his chair behind his desk and walked in front of it. “You remind me so much of my younger self, Joel. Willing to do anything for the person you love. Despite all the odds being stacked against you.”

Joel took a hesitant step back, the heel of his boot nearly catching along the rug, “do not patronize me, sir. I love your daughter, and nothing will stop me from loving her. Even after death, my love for her will remain.”

“Of course nothing will stop you, Joel. For what else is a man to do when he is in love?” He smiled sadly, a look of longing hidden behind his eyes. Joel knew the look all too well.

“I don’t—I don’t understand.”

“I’m going to tell you something that you have to swear you will never utter to anyone. It is a secret that you must take to your grave, Joel. You cannot even tell my daughter. Are we clear?”

“I swear I will not tell a single soul, sir. Not even your daughter will know.”

“Good, I trust you. You have a good heart, Joel.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Your father reached for his box of cigars, silently offering one to Joel who politely declined. It had been many, many, years since your father spoke about his past, and while he lit the end of the cigar, those memories began to surface. “I meant what I said when I told you that you remind me of my younger self.”

Joel nodded in understanding.

“When I was your age, the world was at my fingertips, Joel. It was my oyster, and I could have any lady of my choosing, but I had to marry. That was my parents one rule upon me was that I had to marry.”

“You could have any lady of your choosing, but it wasn’t a lady that held your affections, was it, sir?”

“No. It was not a lady that held my affections.”

“The man…in the portrait behind your desk, was he your…?”

“Yes, Joel. The man in the portrait was my lover. The butler's son nonetheless. I of course tried to appease my parents and court the finest lady in town, but my heart longed for my lover. We were going to run away together, Joel. It was all planned out, and I was ready to throw away my old life for him. It was, and still is taboo and forbidden to lay with the same sex. We were careful, until I came to him with the grave news that I would have to marry, and that we could no longer be together. He was angry, I was angry, we got reckless, and one night we were caught.”

“By…the lady of the house? Your now wife?”

He nodded, leaning back against the front of his desk, “yes, she was the one who caught us in the act, in my chambers. She screamed so loud, as if she was witnessing a murder! I begged her to keep her voice down but she wouldn’t listen. She was disgusted with me, and proclaimed that I would rot in eternal hell for the sins I committed.”

“What happened…to your lover, sir?”

“My own father nearly beat my lover to death in front of me. I was forced to watch the life drain from his eyes. I begged and begged for him to stop, to let him live! Maybe he would have, if it wasn’t for the lady of the house to spread a rumor that the butler's son came onto me against my will. My father didn’t want to believe that his son was a fairy, and so my lover was sentenced to hang. I visited him for the very last time when he was shackled, malnourished, and begging for death to take him. I stayed with him all night, praying that the sun would never rise. The following morning I was forced to watch him hang. Every single spectator in the crowd, except for me, cheered for the death of another fairy!” He used the back of his hand to swiftly wipe at his eyes when his tears began to well and roll down his cheeks.

“He was buried in an unmarked grave and I went through with marrying the lady of the house. I wasn’t given another choice, and on the night of our wedding, she whispered to me that she knew the truth, and that she wouldn’t hesitate to blackmail me for it.”

“I’m so sorry, sir. Your lover—you, I’m so sorry. I do not understand why people are so cruel and hateful. Love is love, is it not?”

“Please do not sympathize with me, Joel. I do not seek your sympathy. I am telling you this because if you do not swallow your feelings for my daughter, you will surely face the same fate that my lover did! Don’t you understand? She has been promised to another. She meets with the banker's son tonight and in time, they will be married. It is her duty and expectation. And you will have the choice to marry the lady I have chosen for you. Your love for my daughter will fade, and you will be grateful that it did.”

“How dare you! How dare you stand there—you coward! You could have been with your lover now if you had run away together! You had the opportunity, and didn’t seize it?! Don’t stand there and claim that my love for your daughter will fade, when yours for your dead lover has not! You stand there, weeping for him! Your life could have been different—”

Crack

Your fathers cruel fist made direct contact with Joel’s beautiful nose, the force of impact sending him stumbling backwards, clutching his face in despair as blood trickled and dripped between the grooves of his fingers, staining the golden threaded hearthrug in splotches of crimson.

“Get the fuck out of my office. It is clear that you have forgotten your place, boy. You will never marry the likes of my daughter.”

Joel retreated through the office doors with what remained of his dignity. He confided in your father purely out of trust, and he thought it was a mutual feeling. For the rest of the afternoon, leading into the evening, you did not see your Joel.

The banker’s son was polite, well-mannered, but goodness—was he a bore. You had no interest in hearing him drone on about the stock market in New York City. He didn’t bother to ask you about you, or your interests as they were already predisposed by your mother.

Fucking cunt.

He strolled with you in the gardens with your hand lightly grasping onto his elbow. Your eyes wandered off, in search for that familiar stature, and head of distinguishable dark curls as you passed by the stables, but your Joel was nowhere to be found. Your heart sank and you asked the banker’s son, Timothy, if he would mind giving you a moment of privacy in the garden's gazebo. He obliged, but not before he could press an affectionate kiss to the outside of your hand. The bristles in his perfectly groomed mustache tickled your skin before he reluctantly pulled away.

You let out a sigh of relief, your posture returning to a relaxed state as you watched him walk back towards the festivities inside. When you were certain that he was not lingering, you began to nervously pace the short distance inside of the gazebo, muttering about how Joel would never just leave you like this, would he?

Where the fuck was he?

Then you heard it, the groaning of the tired wood beneath his boots, and that warm, deep rasp in his voice. “My dearest.” He croaked, and you immediately knew something was wrong, something had happened. His voice sounded far more nasally, and when you turned around to face him, that’s when you noticed the dry, crusted blood beneath his fractured nose, the rusted blood stains in his white shirt. You ran to him, delicately cradling his beautiful face in your palms.

“My Joel!” You cried, “what has happened? Who has done this to you! Your nose—your beautiful nose!”

“Hush, my darling. It’s—just a fracture, lover. It will heal.” He lowered his tone to a whisper, his hands slowly coming to rest around your waist. “It does not matter who did this to me, my dearest.”

“How can you say such a thing? Joel, please, my love, who did this to you?” You softly begged, thumbs gently stroking the scruff speckled on his strong jaw.

“Your father.” He murmured, bitterness laced in his words.

“What?” You murmured in disbelief, dropping your hands from his face, refusing to believe it. “Why would he do such a thing to you! Joel, please, please tell me what happened!”

“My love, please promise you will not hate me for what I am about to utter. Swear to me that you won’t.” He pleaded, tightening his grip around your waist in fear that you would slip between his fingers like grains of sand.

“I swear it.”

“He knows about us, my dearest. He knows that I love you, and you love me. He knows that you cannot bear children because I am the one who confided in him this afternoon. I did it in hopes that he would understand, and stop the banker's son from courting you tonight. I—I thought maybe we wouldn’t have to run away, and we would be accepted as lovers!”

“Oh Joel, they will never accept us! You stupid, stupid, beautiful little fool.” You sniffled sadly, feeling your tears oncoming. “You are too good for this world and everyone in it! Your heart is made of pure gold, and I love you for it, but now you have put yourself in grave danger! That was so fucking stupid of you to do, lover.”

“My sweet, I may be a fool, but what else is a man to do when he is in love? Your father knows, yes, but now we must seize our opportunity to leave, tonight! The party is in full swing, is it not? No one will notice your absence, my dearest. If we don’t leave tonight, I fear we will never have another chance at eternal happiness.”

You swallow down your tears, melting into his embrace and his words. “The banker’s son waits for me inside, it will be suspicious if I do not return to him within the hour…” you trailed off.

“Are you having your doubts, my love?”

“No, no! Of course not. I am in fear that we will be caught if we aren’t careful, my Joel. I will return to him and you will go to my chambers. Lock the doors and do not open them for anyone. Take the back entrance, through the kitchens! No one will see you, I swear it.” You reached for his hands on your waist, interlocking your fingers through his.

“And you? I cannot fathom thinking of the banker’s son touching—”

“My Joel, please do not allow your thoughts to sour. I am expected to dance with him and when the timing is right, I will come find you. I promise.”

He nodded, bringing your clasped hands up to his face so he could kiss your knuckles, wincing from the dull ache in his nose.

“Together?” He murmured, eyes locking onto yours.

“Always.”

You parted ways after he kissed you, promising you that all this pain would be worth it in the end, and of course, you believed him, for what else is a girl to do when she is in love?

You returned to Timothy’s side, assuring him that you just needed to be alone with your thoughts. He was an understanding man, and you could understand why your father assumed that he would be a perfect match for you, but no one would ever be your Joel. And while you danced, and made small talk with him and his friends, Joel was making his way through the kitchens, ducking into one of the main hallways, muscle memory guiding him the way to your chambers, but unbeknownst to him, he was being followed.

It was a quarter to midnight and your lover could hear the party growing rowdier by the minute even behind your locked doors. He grew weary, doubts settling into his mind that perhaps you had forgotten him. Perhaps you were having a good time with the fucking bankers son. His spirits lifted when he heard the sound of a key being inserted in the lock. He sprung up from the edge of your perfectly made up bed, heart racing in his chest when the doors opened.

His face fell, blood running ice cold when the person revealed behind the door was not you, but the lady who was promised to him by your father. He took a step back, palms growing clammy.

“How did I know that you would be lingering in her chambers, Joel?” She closed the doors behind her and locked them for good measure. “What would her father say if he knew you were in here…hmm?”

“You fucking followed me here, didn’t you, Lady Florence?” He seethed, feeling like an animal trapped in the corner with nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

“Because you were promised to me, or have you forgotten?” She cocked a brow in his direction, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I never approached you. Never even attempted to court you. Just because her father promised me to you, doesn’t fucking mean shit until actions are taken after words.” He snapped.

“I suppose, but then again, you’re in a not so favorable position, Joel. Trespassing after hours, and in his daughter's chambers nonetheless? I’m almost certain you would hang for such a crime.” She mused, stepping closer to where he had tucked himself nearly into a corner closest to the window. “Perhaps he would love to hear how I caught you and his daughter fucking in the gardens a few weeks back. How truly reckless of you both.” She tsked.

He scoffed at her attempt at blackmailing him in such a petty way. “Your threats are made in vain. Her father already knows about my love for his daughter. He’s well aware, and you look fucking desperate and pathetic at your attempt to blackmail me.”

“Blackmail you? Joel, you have me all wrong!” She laughed, “I don’t have the heart to blackmail you!”

“Then what the fuck do you call what you just attempted to do, hmm? Don’t take me for a fool! You are nothing but a jealous little—”

“Joel? It’s me, my love. I don’t have my key…someone must have nicked it!” You whispered through the outside of the closed door, looking around the vacant hallway anxiously. “Are you in there?”

He strode past Florence, shoulder checking her on his way to the door and quickly unlocked it, ushering you inside before closing and locking it again.

Your eyes landed on his face, and then trailed over his shoulder to Florence, one of your ladies, who you had believed up until this point was loyal, and not a conniving little—

“Lady Florence? What are you doing in my chambers? What is going on?!”

Joel reached for bare forearm with a gentle grip to pull you back. “My dearest, it isn’t what you think! Lady Florence is the one who nicked your key and followed me to your chambers! She cornered me, threatened me with blackmail, and claimed that she caught you and I in the gardens weeks ago!”

“Is this true?” You felt saddened, betrayed, and disappointed. “Flo, how could you do such a thing to me? I thought we were friends!”

“My lady—he lies! I never would steal from you, he is the one to corner me! He sought me out, forcing me into your chambers—” she lied between her teeth, digging herself in a graver hole than she was planning.

“LIAR!” you yelled, ripping your arm from Joel’s grasp, “he would never lay a hand on a lady, nor pressure her! You speak only of lies Florence!”

“Lover! We do not have the time for this! We have to go, we have to go now!” Joel urged you from behind, reaching for your arm again. “She isn’t worth it! Please, we must—”

And then you heard your fathers voice booming down the hall. Your biggest fear was coming true, and now there was nowhere for you or Joel to hide when the doors bursted open, the locking mechanism snapping in half from the force of your father.

“What is the meaning of this?!” He demanded.

Lady Florence, being the snake in the grass that she was, immediately flocked to your fathers side. “Sir! You arrived just in time!” She said exasperatedly, “Your daughter was in her chambers freshening up and I went to go check on her, being the good friend that I am, when I heard her dreadful scream! I came upon the heinous crime of the filthy stable hand taking your daughter against her will!” She wept her crocodile tears. “He threatened to—”

Your father wasn’t buying it for he knew that Florence was a terrible liar, and a rotten friend. “Lady Florence, this does not concern you. Return to the party immediately, and speak this to no one.”

“But sir—”

“GET OUT!” He yelled, pointing an accusatory finger at her. She narrowed her eyes at both you and Joel before slinking out of the room, closing the doors behind her.

You immediately stepped in front of Joel, silently vowing to protect him no matter what would happen, you would not allow your father to harm another hair upon your lover's head.

“Daddy, please, I love him! Please, let us be! I know it goes against what is expected of me, but Joel is a good man! He has only ever been good to me, father!”

“Your mother will never allow it, daughter. All Joel has done is tempted you and filled your head with fantasies! You have been promised to the banker's son and that is final! You think of me to be cruel, but I am only doing what is best for you!”

“I do not care what you think is best for me, father! I do not want to marry the banker's son! I wish to be happy with my one love, and I do not care if that means that you and mother will exile me! I do not care that it means I will no longer live a life of riches! I am rich in love and happiness with him by my side!”

Your father ignored your pleas, even when you clung to his arm and dug your heels in the ground to stop him from advancing towards Joel. “Please, father! Please! I am begging you to leave him be!” You cried, and your words were caught in your throat when the backside of your fathers ring clad hand made swift contact with your cheek, sending you tumbling to the floor in shock. All Joel could see was red behind his eyes when your fathers hand made contact with your cheek. He sprung into action, but your father, despite his age, was quick, ready for Joel’s attack.

“YOU DARE FUCKIN’ LAY A HAND ON HER?!” Your lover yelled with a rage you had never heard leave his lips, “I’LL FUCKIN’ KILL YOU IF YOU LAY A HAND UPON HER AGAIN!”

Your father used Joel’s rage to his advantage, letting the younger man assume he had control of the situation when he was shoved against your tall, wooden chifferobe.

“STOP IT! PLEASE!” You cried, “BOTH OF YOU, PLEASE STOP!”

In your moment of distress, Joel was distracted for a millisecond too long when your fathers fist connected with Joel’s jaw, sending him stumbling back. He landed another hit, and then another, weakening Joel enough that he crumbled to his knees, bringing his arms over his head to block out the fists raining down upon him.

Your father was relentless, grabbing your lover by the back of his neck, yanking it upwards so he was forced to look up at the older man from his knees. He bent down to his level, getting close to his ear and whispered only for him to hear “I warned you this would end badly if you weren’t careful, boy.”

Joel spit a mixture of congealed blood and saliva directly onto his face, spattering it in speckles of crimson. “Fuck you, you coward.” He hissed between gritted teeth.

Your fathers fist trembled, his hand surely was broken, but all he could think about was how he was forced to watch his own lover be beaten in the same fashion, and now he was on the delivering end of it. “Get out.” He seethed. “Leave the property before lady Florence runs her large mouth to the lady of the house and spreads a false rumor about you and my daughter. Leave before I change my mind, Joel.”

Defeat; complete and utter defeat is all Joel Miller felt in his bones when your father released him with a rough shove to the ground. He struggled to sit up, coughing up more blood, and when you attempted to crawl to his side, your father grasped your elbow and yanked you to the door.

your fading screams of his name echoed down the hall as your father dragged you further and further away.

Bruised, beaten, and feeling hopeless, Joel Miller forced himself to his feet and obeyed your fathers word to leave while he still had the chance. He felt like a coward now, but what else could he do? If he stayed, surely he would face the gallows for a crime that he didn’t commit. Lady Florence had infact gone to run her big mouth to the lady of the house, claiming that Joel Miller raped you in your bed chambers. It was of course a fabricated lie, and only lady Florence, Joel, your father, and you knew the truth.

June 4th, 1844

My Dearest,

I am deeply remorseful for the events that transcribed three days ago. I know I have put you in an undesirable situation now with your father’s wishes for your arranged marriage to the rich banker's son. Forgive me, for I don’t care to remember his name. My dearest, do not put the blame upon yourself. If we had known that there were prying, hateful eyes watching us, I would have waited for you in the stables and not inside your chambers. Jealousy drives even the sanest of people to do the unforgivable. The deep wounds your father has inflicted upon me will heal, but my heart? Oh, how it aches for you, my dearest. If I were not a coward, I would turn back and face the gallows just to see your face one last time, for what else is a man to do when he is in love? I’m heading west, like we planned in the gardens, in hopes that you will follow me and go against your father’s wishes. Please write to me soon, tell me that you are safe, and grace me with your sweet words.

Your devoted Joel

Unspecified date.

My Joel,

I write this to you in secret. My words are only for your eyes, and when you receive my letter, tell no one, my lover. Father is angry, so very angry, and mother only speaks of hate towards you. She is determined to make me press charges against you to hang for a crime you did not commit! Father won’t stand for it and instead we have abandoned the estate, left all of our belongings including our dear horses! They will not tell me where we are going, but I miss you terribly, my Joel. My brothers have been free to marry by their choosing, but I? I cannot. It’s rather cruel, isn’t it? To be given one life and since birth, since I first opened my eyes and gazed upon the new world, my choice has been stolen from my grasp. Oh, my Joel, you speak in sorrows, but the fault lands upon my shoulders. I’m so sorry, lover. I should have been more careful and discreet with our planned rendezvous. I deeply loathe Lady Florence for spying upon us! You are right of her jealousy, and now she claims to be remorseful! Oh, I feel your lips now. Your kiss, your touch upon my skin. My love for you has not weakened, I promise. Hold my words close to your heart, my Joel. I fear I will not be able to write to you again, but I will try, for you. My Joel, you are in my thoughts, always.

You have my heart,

Your Dearest.

January 1848, one hour after dusk

The decision to leave Texas and travel to New York to stop yours and the banker’s son’s wedding could quite possibly be the last thing that Joel Miller would ever do. But how could he sleep at night knowing that you were out there, somewhere in the city, thousands of miles away. You had not written to him in so long, but that didn’t deter him from following his heart back to you. He couldn’t fathom life without you in it any longer, and what else is a man to do when he is in love?

That’s how he found himself in the familiar stables, the horses peeking their heads out from their stalls and nickering softly to him in greeting. He kept the single letter you wrote to him safely tucked away in the pocket of his coat, rucksack thrown over his shoulder with what little belongings he possessed. After a new family moved into your home he was given a higher title, a warm bed to sleep in, and he could have married his new boss's daughter and lived a comfortable, happy life, but he declined, for she would never be you, his dearest. Despite turning down every single one of her affections, she still lingered, hoping that one day she would be good enough for his affections and heart.

He was frantically tacking up Sunfyre, cinching up the girth when the barn doors creeped open and Phoebe, his boss’s daughter appeared.

“Joel?” She whispered through the cool evening air, lantern in hand to peer into the low-lit stalls, “what…are you doing?”

He let out a sigh, dropping his hand from the girth and turned around to face her, “lady Phoebe, it’s late. You shouldn’t be out after hours.”

“Neither should you.” She chastised. “Where are you going at this hour, Joel?”

“My lady, that is none of your business. Please, return home. Forget that you ever saw me.”

“You’re going after her, aren’t you? Joel, it’s been years, and she has only written back to you once! It’s in all the papers that she is marrying the banker's son. You could be happy here, with me.” She whispered the last bit, feeling her heart ache for a man who would never feel the same for her.

“Lady Phoebe, “You are a dear friend to me, but I cannot love you, for my heart belongs to another.”

“But I can love you, Joel. I’m right here! She is thousands of miles away and—”

“She is my love, my one true love, and I’ll be damned if I don’t follow my heart. Your heart sings for me, but it’s not my tune to hear. You will belong to another, I promise.” He moved from Sunfyre’s side, grasping Phoebe's hands gently in his calloused palms, “you have to let me, and what could never be between us go.”

May 6th, 1848

My Joel, if you’re out there…please, please come find me, lover.

Your Joel wasn’t even sure how the fuck he was supposed to find you in a city as large as New York City. All he knew is that today you were expected to marry the banker’s son, and he would be damned if he didn’t stop this wedding from happening. He asked nearly every passbery in the street if they knew where the biggest wedding of the month would be taking place. It took less time than expected to find his answer, and once he did, he rented the finest suit that he could afford, tucked the ring box safely in his suit pocket, and rode to the chapel.

The wedding bells were already beginning to sweetly chime, and he felt his blood run cold at the sound. Was he too late? He would never forgive himself if he was.

“If anyone here, in this room objects to the unifying marriage between this man and woman, speak now or forever hold your peace.” The officiant spoke at the head of the altar, just as the doors leading into the chapel burst open.

“I OBJECT!” Joel’s familiar voice boomed up the aisle. Hushed murmurs, and surprised gasps echoed throughout the chapel when your eyes landed upon your Joel. All time ceased as you dropped Timothy’s hands, racing down the aisle, the train of your perfectly fitted wedding dress dragged behind you.

Tears flooded your eyes as you threw yourself into your lover's embrace, clinging to him in disbelief with your hands cradling his face. “MY JOEL, YOU CAME FOR ME!”

“Of course I did, my dearest. For what else is a man to do when he is in love?” He murmured, unable to truly process all the feelings he was experiencing at once. But what did it truly matter? The time apart was years, but it was all worth it leading up to this moment.

Your father was already making his way down the aisle, followed by your mother and Timothy when Joel grasped your hand tightly in his and whisked you down the aisle towards the exit. He wasn’t going to let them take you away from him again, not this time.

His grip on your hand did not loosen at the harsh sound of your fathers voice, and even when you were running down the chapel steps in unison, he did not let go until you and him were safely tucked behind a wall of a building, out of sight from the wedding party.

He kept you safely caged against the wall, a burst of memories from the night of firsts that you shared together all those years ago. “My dearest,” he breathed, “I thought I was too late! I thought the wedding already happened and you—”

“My Joel, I—I never thought I would see you again! I only ever received your single letter and I thought that you had moved on, that you had forgotten about me!”

“What?” He shook his head, brows furrowed as he grabbed your hands and brought them to his lips, kissing every inch of your skin there. “My Dearest, I wrote to you many, many times! Did you receive all of my letters? I thought the same! I thought you forgot about your Joel.” He admitted quietly.

“Fuck! I bet it was mother, or father! I bet they were keeping your letters from me, lover! Maybe they thought that if I believed you had forgotten me, I would be more inclined to marry the banker’s son!”

“I would believe that to be true, my sweet. But none of that matters, okay? I’m here now. Your Joel is here, and I will never leave your side again.”

“I-I can’t believe you’re here! Oh, my Joel, I’m so sorry—for everything! I have not stopped thinking about you all these years, I swear it. My heart only has ever belonged to you. I wear his ring, but it means nothing to me!”

“Shh, my love. I know, I know. My heart has only ever belonged to you, my dearest. Only to you. Fuck his ring. I will remove it from your finger so you never have to gaze upon it again.” He rasped, gently grabbing your left hand, scoffing at the enormous rock on your ring finger. “And I will replace it with my own.”

“Please, my Joel.”

He slipped the banker’s son’s ring off of your finger, tucking it into his pocket before he pulled out his own ring box, revealing a smaller, dainter ring beneath the velvet cover.

“It’s not much, and I’m sorry that I couldn’t grace your finger with the largest diamond the world has ever seen, but—I love you, dearest. I came all this way because I couldn’t possibly fathom the thought of losing you to another. I have never loved another soul as I do you, and while I don’t have riches to offer you, shiny carriages, silver platters, I have my heart and I know that it’s worth something to you, darlin.’”

He slipped his ring onto your finger, where it always belonged, and then you finally kissed him, your lips meeting in gentle brush before he surged forward, kissing you with everything that he had to offer. He believed that he was hallucinating, that he was back in Texas, longing for you in his empty bed. But you were here, you were real beneath his fingertips as he licked sweetly into your mouth, hands splayed around your waist, holding you close.

“It’s perfect, my Joel.” You murmured against his lips.

“Only because the lady that wears it is the most beautiful in the entire world. Sunfyre is waiting for us down the street. We can go as far east, west, wherever your heart desires. I will love you eternally, and no one will ever keep us apart, my dearest. I swear it.”

“Let’s go home, my Joel. To Texas. Take me home.”

And so he did, for what else is a man to do when he is in love?

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hyukakisses · 4 months ago

Text

- emo pervy loser beomgyu as your bestfriend to boyfriend!

parings: beomgyu x fem reader

plot: loser beomgyu, bestfriends to lovers troupe, sweet crybaby reader but still a loser unfortunately, beomgyu and reader like eachother but beomgyu likes reader more than reader likes beomgyu (as it should be for any relationship between a man and a woman), insecure reader who has low self esteem if you squint (very old & re edited post i had up on my old account)

warnings: beomgyu corrupts reader a bit, use of pet names, smut !! (reader n beomgyu receiving and giving), faint ddlg themes, comforting n reassuring beomgyu who loves reader, dom gyu & sub reader

beomgyu was ecstatic; he had recently gotten himself a purple skateboard and just couldn’t wait to show you. he desperately needed one ever since he broke his bicycle in two pieces which you still didn’t know why or how that happened but you really didn’t wanna ask much less know

beomgyu was headed to your house, ready to show you his newly prized possession but he needed to do something first. grabbing a box cutter; the obvious manic emo boy craved your initials onto the back of his skateboard leaving a ‘y/n<3’ on the lower left side it wasn’t that noticeable to where you would notice it but he knew exactly where to find that mark if he went to look

with a satisfied cheeky grin beomgyu marched to your house riding his skateboard before putting on his black over the ear headphones of course. blasting bulls in the bronx by pierce the veil, his favorite artists in his ears. making sure not to fall on his back again, imagining how much you’d cry when he’d come over with cuts on his fingers and face again

“beomgyu!” you let out a faint squeal, your face gleaming in excitement seeing your bestfriend, your only friend climb through your window for the nth time.

“hey baby” beomgyu mutters grinning back at you showing off his dimple. this action made you flush, you were thankful you weren’t pale otherwise beomgyu would never let you blushing at his words down.

another thing that you were hiding was your oh so little crush on your bestfriend beomgyu, completely oblivious to him reciprocating the same feelings. you being a total ditz though, you didn’t really catch onto beomgyu’s liking towards to you. you always just thought he was really sweet.

plus you also had really low self esteem so it was hard to accept that anyone could possibly like you especially someone as special and attractive as beomgyu.

you still couldn’t believe that beomgyu was considered a loser, he seemed way too cool and attractive to be one but after being his bestfriend for years you’d slowly realized why he was one

you’ve noticed beomgyu never really spoke to anyone unless it was to angrily mansplain about the lore behind a hyperfixation he had, or when it came to defending you since you often struggled with anxiety.

beomgyu also always carried an angry look on his face only letting his gaze soften for you of course; beomgyu really lacked common social skills and had anger issues. often smashing things around him but also managing to calm down and comfort you once he noticed he was scaring you

but still you refused to believe beomgyu actually liked you.. i mean it just didn’t make any sense to you he probably just liked being your bestfriend, maybe he thought of you as a little sister to protect.

even after that one sleepover where he went down on you for the first time you still didn’t think he could possibly ever like you

“b-beomgyu?” you’d squeak in fear as you sensed your baby pink pajama short shorts being taken off of you as you tried to watch blue spring ride with the aforementioned male but automatically failed due to sleep taking over your body

“shhh it’s just me baby relax just let me taste my sweet girl you trust me right?” you hear beomgyu coo at you, this action calming you down and you nod your head. his bandaged covered fingertips from his skate boarding trick fails move from holding your face for your comfort to teasing the soft skin of your inner thighs but you couldn’t lie you enjoyed every minute of whatever was going on

your breath hitches, letting out high pitched whimpers clinging onto your teddy bear beomgyu gifted you for your birthday last year. as you helplessly watched the older male through glassy desperate lap at your pussy as if your were his last meal. the only thing that could be heard were your cries of over stimulation due to your climax and faint slurping sounds coming from beomgyu’s mouth

“b-beomgyu..” you’d only whine sensing the same burning sensation growing at the pit of your stomach while beomgyu continued to lap his tongue in and out of your gummy walls more aggressively when the emo boy felt you close up on his tongue

you felt beomgyu snicker against your clit as he looks up at you a faint smirk on his lips; “what is it babydoll? you wanna cum already? gonna cum on my tongue again?”

you two never really spoke much of about that night, seeing how every time beomgyu tried bringing it up you’d start to cry out of embarrassment not really liking beomgyu’s teasing since you were very sensitive and just a big crybaby if we’re being quite frank

however as time went on by since that sleepover let’s just say you and beomgyu were getting closer and a bit more comfortable with eachother

“like this?” you’d tilt your head staring up at your bestfriend through your pretty lashes gently latching your plump lips around the cock in your mouth, attempting to suck beomgyu off not really knowing how to since you never really exactly given head to anyone before

“yes- fuck c’mere” beomgyu lets out a husky grunt, wanting to take control not feeling patient enough to guide you through sucking him off he gently started to move your head back and forth on his length

“gonna be a good little girl and let me fuck your mouth right?” beomgyu hissed at your soft gurgles as you nod rapidly drinking in the sight of the boy towering over you occasionally letting out soft whimpers and praises

“beomgyu?” you’d call out to your bestfriend watching as beomgyu paints his nails jet black; “yes princess? what is it?” he’s not looking at you instead he’s blowing air on his nails but you knew he was paying attention to you

you felt tears forming in your eyes, your hands trembling as you felt your heart race against your chest. “d-do.. do you like me? and i don’t mean like just as bestfriends i mean like do you like me enough to be my boyfriend?” you were on the verge of a panic attack at the mere thought of beomgyu’s rejection

beomgyu can hear the panic in your voice, shooting his head up in worry already knowing what to do to calm you down. “c’mere” the oreo haired boy cradles you onto his lap laying your head on his chest as he rubbed circles on your lower back shushing your cries. whispering in your ears ‘shh it’s okay don’t cry im right here’

“i don’t like you i love you you hear me? i love everything about you, your crybaby tendencies and your pretty face. it would be a dream come true to be your boyfriend if you let me” beomgyu reassured you making you sniffle with a smile followed by a ‘i love you too beomgyu! and i really want you to be my boyfriend!’

#lyrical’s garden 💒#coquette #txt #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #txt headcanons #txt imagines #txt smut #txt x reader #txt reactions #emo boyfriend #txt beomgyu #txt beomgyu x reader

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hawkinsbnbg · 7 months ago

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moony

It was the Fourth of July again. Granted, the day didn't hold any good memories for Steve after Startcourt, but when Eddie asked to take him to the fair, he still agreed.

Because the Upside Down had been dismantled alongside Henry’s death back in 1986, and Steve had decided that 1987 would be their year.

What was better than to start making good memories together? Even if they were full of nosy teenagers and a platonic soulmate who wouldn't leave Steve alone once they learned about his huge crush on their local metalhead.

It didn't matter that Steve was being careful to not ruin his friendship with Eddie, because everyone—including Nancy and Jonathan, shockingly enough—all advised him to make his moves on Eddie as soon as possible.

But Steve had been burned too many times to not learn his lessons. That he always scared off his partners every time he got too ahead of himself.

No one would ask for a ring after only a week, and frankly, no one sane would want a house and six kids after just one month of dating him.

And since Steve was determined to not repeat his mistake, he tried to give Eddie time to get used to his… clinginess.

So far, Eddie didn't seem to mind Steve spending nearly every day hanging out with him. If anything, he always looked delighted around Steve.

That should mean something, right?

“Which ones d’ya like, Stevie?”

Startled from his daydream, he turned to stare blankly at Eddie and then the gallery gun in Eddie's hands.

“What?”

“Look at those little buddies over there,” Eddie gestured at the stuffed animals displayed behind the shooting targets board. “Why don't you take your pick, sweetheart?”

Steve gaped. This was his first time being asked that kind of question. The very move he usually brandished to make girls swoon, but never expected the day when it’d be used on him.

“Uhm,” he fumbled a bit before pointing at a white bunny in the center, “that one.”

“Cute,” Eddie chuckled.

Steve blushed, unsure which ones Eddie was referring to—him or the stuffed bunny.

Before he could become a stuttering tomato, Eddie cocked the gun and winked at him.

“Watch me, ‘kay?”

Steve nodded and did his best as Eddie's personal cheerleader.

No one remembered how many attempts it took for Eddie to get the prize. But holding Sir Fluffy—“a holy knight,” declared Eddie—in his chest, Steve was moonstruck.

Several years later, after Sir Fluffy was delegated to protect their daughter from nightmares, Steve got himself a new knight in dinosaur pajamas.

(“But I’m a dragon,” Eddie protested.

Steve, already halfway into dreamland, just snuggled up in his husband’s arms and mumbled, “G’night, Sir Edwyn the Dragon.”

Letting out an amused huff, Eddie pressed a fond kiss on his forehead, “Sweet dreams, my treasure.”

Somehow, Steve had ended up seeing a unicorn that night.)

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #there's a joke about eddie bringing out his big gun metaphorically and physically #but i'm too lazy to be come up with something funny and smart about it #sionewrites

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tom-foolery-incorporated · 2 months ago

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Swerve x Reader Blurb: The Panty Raid

Gender neutral reader, racially ambiguous, very short, Swerve being a pervert

Swerve was kind of glad he could fit in the human quarters. 10 feet of minibot was probably as short as a mech could be but with the humans on board he felt massive. It was so strange being so much bigger than someone and he honestly didn’t expect to find it so endearing.

That’s probably how he ended up in his situation with his servos digging through your laundry.

Swerve found the shirt you wore yesterday to work out and brought it up to his olfactory sensors. The armpits of the shirt was still a little damp from your time at the gym. He ran his tongue over the sweat mark shivering at the salty taste of your skin still left over on the shirt coupled with the sweet taste of your deodorant made his engine rev.

Swerve sniffed every inch of that shirt before gently placing it next to your hamper and started digging through your soiled garments once again. His servo hooked on something small near the bottom. He pulled his arm out of your laundry basket only to stare at his prize with wide optics.

Your underwear.

Your used underwear.

Swerve held both ends of the elastic waistband in both his servos displaying his find before him. His optics were glowing brightly through his visor in excitement. The fabric was so soft and the pattern was so cute. Really, you could wear anything and Swerve would find it cute because it was on your body.

He looked over his shoulder plate to make sure your door was still shut before indulging in his new found treasure.

Swerve brought the crotch of your underwear to his intake giving his glossa a once over. The deep musky scent of your genitals remained on the fabric and Swerve could practically taste your sweet arousal on them. His engine revved in delight as he bunched the fabric against his olfactory sensors. His spike was practically leaking behind his modesty plate.

Swerve fantasized about cumming in your underwear. You’d hold your pants open for him as they bunch around your knees. Maybe you’d be rubbing his spike for him.

“I love your spike,” you’d say desperately. “I love you!”

Swerve doesn’t know how long he’d be able to last with his spike in your hand. Could you even get your hand around his spike? Fuck, you were so small and cute!

He’d be moaning your name desperately bucking his hips into your hand until his overload hit him. Glowing pink fluid would erupt from his spike making a mess of your underwear. It leaked down over the leg holes of your underwear making a mess in your pants. Being the gentleman he is Swerve would offer to clean you up but then you’d pull your pants up and rebutton them. His transfluid now snug against your arousal. Your pelvis practically drowning in his overload.

Swerve moaned into your underwear at the thought of you going about your day with his overload in your pants. His overload inside of you, on you, on your face, your chest, your hands.

He spike was fully pressurized and pushing against his modesty panel just thinking about your innocent face. You have no idea he’s doing this. You talk to him and joke with him so happily while completely unaware that he’s been sneaking into your room while you work to sniff your used clothes.

#transformers #macaddam #valveplug #swerve x reader #idw swerve #swerve valveplug #swerve x reader valveplug #transformers x reader smut #transformers smut

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noxinara · 9 months ago

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Obey Me! Brothers and what kind of games I think they'd play

this is a very biased list (and long post) based off of games that I've played before :) (jk its really not biased, just games I think they would play!) I made this because I couldn't sleep last night and had brain worms-- Will probably make one for the dateables sometime soon, but this list is just the brothers!

Lucifer

Traditional Board Games.

There have been MANY times where he's been playing various board games with you, Diavolo, and Simeon.

Gets VERY competitive over games like Sorry!, Monopoly, Trouble.... Candy Land???

Will only let Diavolo win.

Shows no mercy to anyone else, including you. Sorry, love.

Card Games.

Particularly amazing at Poker. He would not let Mammon know this... until you guys have an in-house Poker night and he literally takes all??? Has the best poker face you've ever seen.

Won't even let you guys beat him at Uno or Go Fish. Boooooooo.

Puzzle Games.

I could see Luci being very good at Tetris for some reason?

One time Levi challenged him to the game to try and get out of going to RAD one day...

Let's just say he had to go to RAD that day and also had to stay over on cleaning duty. Courtesy of getting absolutely DESTROYED.

Controversial Pick: Rhythm Games.

I could 100000% see Luci tearing up some OSU! But only when all of the brothers are asleep and he's completed most of his work.

They help him unwind.

...Was that rhythmic tapping you heard when walking by his office late one night..? Interesting.

You saw him wearing Levi's VR headset playing Beat Saber one day.

No, you will NOT bring it up and you will NOT let him know of that video you took.

Oh. You posted it on Fab Snap?

Good luck. You're gonna need it.

Mammon

Gambling Games/Apps.

Where I live you can just gamble from home because it's legal to have and play gambling apps?

He would have SO many on his D.D.D. They're taking up so much of his storage space.

Plays them a lot when you're around because he thinks that you're his good luck charm.

He also goes on a lot of Horse Racing and Sports Betting sites...

It got so bad that Lucifer had to figure out how to IP block him from these. it doesn't stop him--

Gacha Games.

Has absolutely insane luck for some reason??? Only on gacha games, tho.

Has definitely played Genshin Impact and Honkai Starrail because of Levi.

He got those 5 star and Ultra Rare pulls he wanted in his first 1-10 pulls? But you? It took you over 100 pulls to get what you wanted. WTF?????

You swear he must be cheating the system somehow. There is NO WAY.

Racing Games.

Particularly the ones that you can have a full racing setup for.

He's splurged thousands of Grimm on this.

Gran Turismo? Forza? F1? iRacing? He has them all.

He is VERY picky about who he lets touch his decked out setup... He'll let you use it any time you want, though. :) You're his treasure, ofc

Controversial Pick: Old School MMOs

Definitely played Old School RuneScape or Black Desert Online or Classic WoW and created gold farming empires.

Doesn't even do end game content, he's just a guild leader making bank off the work of his members.

He probably hosts fun events though.

Would definitely be the kind of guy that makes up scavenger hunts/fashion shows/trivia nights/etc. and gives out sick prizes...

Might also rig these to make sure you or his officers win the best prizes. How sweet.

Leviathan

He is literally THE gamer.

There probably isn't a single genre of game he hasn't played.

His favorite games are definitely MMORPGs and Visual Novels/Dating Sims/Bishojos/Gal games.

Could see him as a raid lead in all of the biggest MMOs like WoW, FFXIV and GW2.

He also 100% visits the degenerate RP server places like Moon Guard's Goldshire and Balmung's Quicksand.

He's definitely not a BLUSHING MESS and rushing to close his game if you catch him in one of these places!!! He would never go there!!! Oh... you want to join him? DEFINITELY NOT.

He would get too jealous of anyone daring to look at you to even let you breath in the vicinity of these degen realms.

He's also done plenty of MMO Ironman challenges and was one of the first people to complete Classic Hardcore WoW entirely solo. Didn't even group for dungeons. What a MAN.

Bishojo/Gal games are his guilty pleasure, how could they not be?

He gets all the waifus with none of the jealousy, right???

What do you mean he picks the same one every time? He can't just cheat on them MC!!

Loves JRPGs and Soulslike games.

Has definitely beaten Elden Ring more times than he can count. Knows literally all of the ins, outs, and secrets and is eagerly anticipating the DLC.

Has probably played every single Final Fantasy game and beaten them all. Would very much have a soft spot for FF4, FF7, and FF9.

Could definitely see him playing MOBAs and 4x strategy/Grand strategy games.

He's not the Grand Admiral of Hell's Navy for nothin'. He knows strategy games like the back of his hand.

The only brother that ever rivals him in strategic knowledge is Satan. (and Lucifer, but we're talking about GAMES here.)

He spends countless hours on League of Legends.

He mains JG/Mid and gets very toxic.

Has favorite characters, but honestly just plays whatever is in meta.

Owns every skin for Ahri, Lux, Katarina, Evelynn, and Akali.

He's definitely in Challengers.

Would 100% make a Smurf account if you wanted to play and would duo bot with you.

He'd play ADC and do anything to protect you, his loving support.

Would not be toxic in your games (unless you are too).

Faker who???

Controversial pick: Casual Mobile Games

Played Flappy Bird all the time when it was popular, still has a cracked copy on his D.D.D... I don't think anyone is beating his high score.

He's got a ridiculous amount of hours on Candy Crush, Angry Birds, and Fruit Ninja.

Would throw his D.D.D into his fish tank and have Henry 2.0 guard it before he'd ever let you catch him on one of these 'normie' games...

But... he secretly likes them so much.

Satan

Hear me out, Satan would be a SUCKER for CYOA (Choose-your-own-adventure)/IF (Interactive Fiction) text games.

Would have Choice of Games, Hosted Games, and Heart's Choice hidden on his D.D.D.

He LOVES immersing himself in story games and creating various MCs.

Oh, look! An RO that reminds him of you? Don't mind him self-inserting.

Probably has character sheets made for his favorite MCs.

Will play through his favorite stories many, many times.

It all started with Choice of the Deathless and now he owns every game on each platform? (I'm jealous)

Also goes on Dashing Don... What do you MEAN author hasn't finished this story yet? AAAA-

Detective/Mystery/Escape Rooms Games.

I don't think any explanation is needed here. It's just who he is.

Would definitely get all of his brothers (minus Lucifer) together to do a virtual escape room... Unfortunately, it became so chaotic they never finished it. Oh well.

Once played Phasmophobia with Levi, Beel, and Belphie. Was very proud of himself for figuring out the ghost... Definitely did not sacrifice his brothers for the info.

Life Sims.

Specifically ones that let you own or are centered around cats.

Has played every single Sims game and bought their cat and dogs expansions.

Definitely did NOT recreate you and himself with 6 cute cats!!!

He did NOT get the mod that extends household size so that you two could own 97 cats. He wouldn't do that, no way!!!

...Was there actually a baby in the household, too..? Why did it have his hair and your eyes...? SATAN?!?!

you know the Catz DS game? He owned every single version and will NOT let you touch them... Okay. Maybe he gave into letting you touch them, but ONLY when he's supervising!

Very much enjoys RTS Games.

He's scarily good at games like StarCraft Brood Wars/2, the Age of Empires franchise, or Rise of Nations.

He's also gotten into 4x games like Stellaris and Civ. Thanks, Levi.

Don't try and challenge him, he can beat the hardest bots and WIN... THE BOTS LITERALLY CHEAT.

HOW DOES HE DO IT?

Controversial Pick: Fighting Games

Specifically games like Guilty Gear, Street Fighter, Tekken, BlazBlue, etc. Courtesy of Levi again. Thanks, Levi.

It helps him temper his wrath.

He'll sometimes play Mortal Kombat just for the finishers?? Why is he this way?

He could spend hours learning all the combos and tech of his favorite characters.

Has created himself some tech books and would only show them to you, esp. if you showed interest in learning the games with him!

I could see him and Levi settling disputes by doing best 3 out of 5 1v1s against each other.

Could see him maining Giovanna or Leo from GGST? Tends to prefer rushdown characters. (this one is completely biased, i named my cat after Giovanna from GG--)

Asmodeus

Dress-up/Fashion/Stylist Games.

SuitU, Love Nikki, Covet Fashion - you name it.

He has all of them on his D.D.D and will shell out major Grimm to get any outfit he likes.

Might try to make the outfits he gets in these games for himself and you, because you're the perfect model!

Has a lot of fun with it and might try and talk you into playing with him.

Will definitely post amazing outfits he makes in-game on Devilgram. Will also post countless photos and videos of you two modeling those outfits he brings to life.

...NSFW/Eroge Games.

Not gonna go into detail on these ones because you already know what I mean.

Enjoys playing those games that haunt the front pages of my Steam.

Would proudly play them in front of you to laugh at how ridiculous they are sometimes (as long as you're 18+)

Like Satan, I could see him enjoying Life Sims...

Unlike Satan, it's not because he wants animals.

Plays games like the Sims, Stardew Valley, and Sun Haven.

Self-inserts himself and will romance EVERYONE.

Has the mods where you can marry every single villager and the bed mod that makes your bed MASSIVE so all your husbands and wives can sleep with you.

Made a Sims save with just himself romping around town... No sim is safe from Asmo.

Also has a Sims save with you and him that he openly enjoys more. It has both of you enjoying that Sims Nightlife as celebrities and living in a MASSIVE mansion he custom decorated.

Will also play any Visual Novel/Dating Game that is recommended to him by Levi.

Bonus points if it never shows the MC so he can self-insert himself.

Controversial pick (in this case, not really): VR Games

Specifically things like VRChat or Chillout VR.

Would be extraordinarily popular and have custom avatars of HIMSELF made with so many toggles that it'll make your head spin.

He would always be hanging out in night club or bar worlds.

Occasionally Mammon joins him.

Sometimes he also invites you to join him~! (Would not like it if people started hanging all over you, tho, and would probably bring you to a hot home world with just you and him if that happened...)

Beelzebub

Sports games.

No doubts about this one.

Could definitely see him playing FIFA or Madden.

Levi thinks these are SUPER normie games and is offended to have them in the house.

Beel doesn't care.

Ooo, they made a game of Fangol?!?! He becomes an expert so fast, you have no idea. Would 100% teach you how to play with him.

Loves Cooking Games or Food-themed Games...

He just can't play them for long, however.

One time you got him to play Cooking Mama with you, Luke, Simeon, and Solomon but you had to stop because he got so hungry that he was trying to eat the television????

Would have to bring in MANY snacks and vow to make dishes from the games if you wanted to play these with him around... Which is a shame because he genuinely enjoys them.

I could see him loving Multiplayer Party/Minigame Games like Mario Party or WarioWare.

You mean he gets to play silly mini games with all of his favorite people?

He doesn't care if he wins, he just loves having you guys around.

Almost always comes in last place when he's playing with you, Belphie, and Levi but that's okay. The faces you guys make when you get your stars are worth it.

Controversial pick (and I mean this one is VERY controversial): FPS games

Now, I know what you're thinking. Beel is a gentle giant and wouldn't play these types of games...

But! I could see him forming 5 stacks with you and his brothers in games like CS2 and Valorant and being scarily good because of his amazing hand-eye coordination and reaction times?

Like he and Levi could easily carry you guys to high Asc/Low Immortal lobbies.

He would just play fill when everyone's around, but his mains would be Kay-O and Breach.

He would always be the initiator in Counter-Strike, following Levi's IGL calls perfectly.

He would also probably love playing games like Squad or Modern Warfare or Battlefield with all of his brothers, you + the dateables.

Belphie

Our resident Horror Game lover.

They give him ideas on how to prank his brothers dreams.

Once made Mammon go through Outlast in his dreams (nightmares??).

You better run, little pig.

But he genuinely enjoys them... When he can stay awake through them.

Hey, you, why don't you just play for him?

Loved playing through games like Amnesia... Unfortunately for you, his love for puzzle psychological horror probably contributed to how he acted in Act 16 OM--

Loves Psychological Dramas and those Interactive Media Games.

You know. The ones where you're combing through footage or watching videos and making choices to find out the hidden/deeper/darker meanings?

He LOVES those.

Usually has you or his brothers playing for him. It's most likely Satan.

You all get equally invested.

Idle Games.

He can run these while he's asleep.

There's nothing more to be said.

These are the simplest type of games there are....

He's probably got a cookie empire.

Has a soft spot for Kart Racing Games.

Will regularly be in the room when you, Levi, Beel or Mammon are playing.

He's honestly pretty good at them??

When he's not falling asleep behind the wheel that is.

Controversial pick: Auto Battlers

These are games like TFT, Hearthstone Battlegrounds, and DOTA's Auto Chess.

He naps in between rounds and wakes up in 20s increments to prepare for his turn... Why does he have the timing down to a tee???

You're sure you've even seen him pick perfectly in his sleep??? How does he do it?????

Regularly comes in the Top 4, usually first or second.

What do you mean he's a Challenger TFT player??? Wtf how???

Will not coach you if you ask, but you're free to watch!

Will definitely cuddle with you the whole time he's playing these.

All Brothers, with a bonus YOU!

I could honestly see them ALL enjoying CRPGs as a group.

They always get the mods that let you increase your party size.

Went through Baldur's Gate 3 with you on your recommendation.

They all fought over who would get to play Astarion and Mammon won?!?!

Satan got Gale

Beel got Karlach

Levi was Laz'ael

Lucifer was Wyll

Belphie got Shadowheart

And Asmo made a Dark Urge Bard that looked exactly like himself????

He literally doesn't even make any Dark Urge decisions.

He doesn't want blood staining his clothes. 😔

You got to choose whatever you wanted though!

You took the Dark Urge from Asmo and he just played a normal, flirty bard with impeccable fashion sense.

This playthrough took MONTHS and MONTHS... but you all had a blast!

Literally.

You cannot count the number of times Satan 'accidentally' hit you with fire balls. (He claims he was aiming for Lucifer.)

Lucifer somehow ended up getting you all the luckiest ending? How did he roll 3 nat 20s?????

You're on to play Divinity: Original Sin II next...

Satan has already claimed Fane.

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writersundersiege · 11 months ago

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The New Girl in Town

Race Cameron x F! Reader

Warnings; slight angst and someone missing presumed dead like John b’s dad .

Summary: All the kooks are shaking in the designer's shoes as the new girl in town moves from Malibu, California. She moves to Figure 8 with her father, who's the CEO of Surfboard Hut company, which does well selling pre-made boards and custom surfboards. All the girls want to be her friend or hate her; all the guys love her, and the adults think she's a sweet, free spirit. What may happen when the island's notorious bad boy, Rafe Cameron, can't get her out of his mind? Will she take to Rafe as he takes to her? Or will it take time to convince her there is more to him than the bad boy exterior?

The sizeable moving truck pulls up with a Land Rover and a beat-up-looking blue Jeep with a surfboard rack and multiple boards attached at the top, following in close behind. On all corners of the street, Kooks are walking their dogs, assembling, and checking the mail, all to stare at the new arrivals. Rafe is standing around shooting hoops with Kelce and Topper. Rafe hadn't paid any mind yet to all the people outside talking, too busy trying to prove the point to Topper he could still play as well as he did back in school. It is the only reason he's in the perfect place to meet, probably the most beautiful girl Rafe has ever seen.

As the vehicles come to a stop in front of the house, a girl hops out with (H/T), gorgeous tanned skin and a bright smile; as she walks to the Land Rover, she followed, stopping and talking to a man who looks exactly like her in the eyes and nose presumably her father they laugh, until a lovely looking woman; nearly captures the whole neighborhoods attention, heads turn her way with how pretty she is smiling smacking the older man on the shoulder and pulling the young carbon copy of her into her side looking at the house in front of them.

Rafe turns to Topper. “Did you know you were getting new neighborhoods? I thought the old McCaauns didn't want to sell that place since that's where they grow their stupid prize gardenias for the Charleston Garden Expo.” Topper shrugs, grabbing the basketball from Rafe's stagnant hands. “Mom said something about a meeting. Gosh, I can't even remember her name. The mom, though, said her husband owns part of a surfboard hut company with a buddy of his in California. It's called Crush Wave; it's kinda sick.” Topper pulls out his phone and pulls up their TikTok, showing you and your dad making handmade boards.

Topper pulls up a video of you making a Short Board that is blue and purple and a massive Kraken on the back that almost looks engraved in the actual wood of the board. Rafe watches as you talk and laugh, presumably at the joke your dad made behind the recording causing Topper to laugh too, but he stares at how your eyes crease, and the way you throw your head back in pure bliss.

He only looks up when he hears Kelce say with a dark look, “You're gonna have a nice view from your bedroom, Top.” As he looks up, there it is, your side bedroom window connected to the side of the house that looks right into Topper's room. Your curtain shades are open as the three boys stare up into the room, watching you, dancing around your room, organizing posters on the wall, and putting down little knickknacks and what one could only assume are memorable things from home. Your old home. Rafe watches as you open the window a little to let in a breeze, not even paying attention to the three boys ogling you through your window

In a moment, Rafe catches the lyrics of the song. You seem so consumed by you’re forgetting the whole world around you and he thinks he's heard it. Still, the only words he can catch are, “Baby, don't you see I've got everything you need?” and that line sticks with him, a plan forming in his head and a smirk on his face cause Rafe knows he's going to make you want, need, maybe even crave him but that is for later.

Suddenly, the boys are broken from their sudden stupor and infatuation, by a woman's voice. “Hey boys!” your mother smiled back at them, looking just like you in maybe five years; she doesn't look even that much older than you, which makes Rafes smirk deeper, knowing you are running in a solid gene pool. “My name is Andrea, but call me Andy, and that man over there struggling to carry his toolbox kit is my dear, sweet husband Charles.” The man struggling under the weight of a metal box called out “Charlie,” she laughed, shaking her head. “And our daughter.” she points to where you're now loudly singing a one direction song that has the boys laughing and blushing as you act like you have a microphone that is hanging in your hand and disappearing into what they assume is your closet.

“Her name is (F/N). She's 19 and just had a birthday a few weeks ago. She's our baby; her brother is 23 and at Princeton.” She smiles, watching you dancing and singing Fools Gold so loud you could’ve woke a sleeping giant; she turns to see all the boys entranced by you. She looks down and chuckles, “Would you boys mind helping us? We need help getting the dresser upstairs to that room.” The boys snap their eyes back to your mother and shake their heads while hurriedly rushing through the large white picket fence in front of your house.

As they walk in, they see a fantastic amount of items from all over the world, Maps of almost all countries all over the globe. Significant framed photos of you and your family in front of Buckingham Palace, You in front of the Eiffel Tower posing with a massive smile on your face, a tall boy who looks like you, his arm around your shoulder smiling just the same, Your family in traditional silks and gorgeous materials smiling with a beautiful woman and man she had ornate henna all down her arms and legs. Another photo with your arms over your head, standing on a waterfall, looking like an angel with the water creating a rainbow around you.

All over, there were little statues, maps, books, ship blueprints, rugs, and throws from all different kinds of cultures as the boys walked past the dining room that saw a Chabudai table set up with gorgeous adorned pillows and a large china cabinet full of different types cutlery and ornamental chinas. Rafe squints his eyes, looking at a large framed map that looks super old and says Amazonian on the bottom with more notes. Topper pipes up from one side of the large hall, picking up what looks to be a golden skull from a box. “Um, sorry, Andy, what kind of work are you into?” he says, holding the figure up and wincing as he twists it to look at it.

Andy chuckles, walking back towards the boys, grabbing the skull from him and placing it on the large bookshelf in the hallway. “I'm a history professor, and I just transferred to St. John’s Academy for boys. Do any of you go there?” she asks quizzically; all that boys can think to do is shake their heads. Suddenly, they watch the fumbling and tumbling of your dad with four boxes that cover his frame entirely. “Hey honey, I don't think (F/N)’s couch is gonna fit in that new room cause of how it used to be lofted; now it's a single floor plan, and the ceilings—oh hello.”

The boys grabbed the remaining boxes to reveal your dad's smiling face, staring back at them as he said, “And you are.” Rafe, Topper, and Kelce introduce themselves hurriedly as they set the boxes down and line up to shake your dad's hand, which they do. “Seems like their nice boys with gentlemanly manners out here in the outer banks will be a nice change for our little songbird up there…” but before your Dad can continue, your mother rounds behind the boys pushing through the kitchen saying, “Anyways, he babbles the dresser is in the garage” pushing the three through she opens the double doors to the garage so the three boys can easily fit.

They each take a side and quickly lift it up and through the house up the stairs down the hall to the first set of French doors; your mother knocks when, all of a sudden, the muffled sound of music becomes the center stage, and the bursting smell of ocean water, sandalwood, and coconut hits them in the face. Finally, when their senses returned to them, you were standing there holding the handles of the doors and the sun's yellow glow behind you and a grin from ear to ear.

Then, like a bunch of doves were let off into flight, in a soft, airy voice came your words, “Hello boys, it's mighty kind of you to help me bring my new casa into a retrograde” You laughed a small laugh that had them buckle slightly under the pressures of the weight of your dresser you pointed to the wall opposite the window they were all staring through earlier and said, “Right there would be just fine.”

At this point, Rafe looks around to see where your mother is, and it seems like she is nowhere near at all; this gives him more confidence not to make a fool of trying to talk to you. He has this weird pull for you, and he needs to know why. So far, your family may be the most remarkable group to have moved into OBX since any past gossip and any that will come, but he wants to know you.

After they place the dresser in a specific spot against a wall between the borders, you've created with tons of pictures of you and girls and guys your age, you and your brother surfing, you on a boy's shoulders messing up his curls as you look down on him laughing. He’s laughing up at you, holding you tight, more of you at almost every natural monument you can think of, like the catacombs, Everest, Mushroom forest, and more.

One picture catches Rafe's eye again; it's the curly-haired boy and you with white shirts and what looks to be yellow stripes on your shoulders; he turns to ask, “Were you a deckhand on a yacht?” you look up from the box you were going through crisscrossed on your bed and smile widely with a hint of devilishness behind your eyes. “Not just a deckhand, the lead deckhand, and that was my second 2nd; his name is Luca; we grew up together.” Rafe shakes his head slowly, looking over the boy and then at you. “Luca still around these days?” Topper and Kelce eye you both suspiciously while they are meandering, pretending to look at bookshelves and shells and things from your past on the walls.

Suddenly, the mood becomes grim, and you look down, hand coming up and thumbs running over a small ring attached to a shell necklace. “He's been presumed dead for nearly a year; he and his brother Cameron went deep sea fishing somewhere out here, actually on the coast, and they know their ship went down almost 400 km from shore. They are still gone. Nothing has been found besides this ring and a note in the black box of the boat Cameron got just in case cause—” you suddenly cut off.

You got up, holding a picture of once again the curly-haired boy. Still, he looked to be no more than 12 on one knee, and the girl standing in front of Rafe but so much younger, even brighter than he'd already seen, if that even seemed possible, with a ring pop slid on her ring finger she was no more than ten years old smiling ear to ear.

You look up with a sad smile. “The note said I told you I would get you a real ring one day, but if for some reason I am not there to give it to you, I'll be shining next to the north star, waiting for you to shine back, you know what I mean” she smiles sadly “I'm so sorry I —” You start to laugh “Rafe. Stop that.” Both of the other boys keep watching, stunned. “Luca always said that the only way we can survive as humans is by letting the world ride around us like a wave and holding fast to it, so that's what I do every day, see?” she shoved her wrist into Rafe's hand, which gently wraps his fingers around it to lift to his face to see and caligraphy type wave with a small sailboat and the words “Hold Fast” underneath he smiles and rubs his thumb over the small tattooed skin which send chills down your body

He smiles and says, “Brave the storm like the stories, huh?” Her face immediately lights up. He doesn't know a ton of history but Wheezies been obsessed with that new Percy Jackson show and watched an episode or a few with her and has learned some stuff.

You turn to wrap your hand through his interlocking fingers and drag him to your bed while you pull a big leather-bound sketchbook from under your bed. You flip a few pages to a beautiful pencil sketch of a gorgeous-looking woman holding a baby close to her face with tears trailing down to land on the baby's blanket. It's so detailed she drew and shaded the mother's tear stains on the blankets. At the very bottom, in scripture-style lettering, was “Hold Fast Perseus, Brave the storm.” you can see the swirling raging seas and the baby floating in the basket slowly and sleepily over the raging waves in the back.

He looked up to see that Topper and Kelce had slowly slipped out of the room and down back to Top’s yard and were sending him thumbs up from below in the window they were all just looking through, laughing and hitting each other as they went in Topper's back door.

He clears his throat, realizing you're still staring at him wide-eyed. He swears he can see the whole world through your eyes when finally words don't fail him saying, “This may be the prettiest thing I've ever seen,” not even breaking a moment of eye contact to reference the picture just looking at you. “ you're kind Rafe” you giggle nudging him with your shoulder when you both hear a slight knock and look up to see your brother Jason standing the hall you run and jump in his arms as he laughs and spins you around “Hey kiddo came here for the weekend to check out the place and get all moved in” he points to Rafe “already got a boyfriend I thought you said you were gonna leave the whole California surfer guy thing in the past.”

She throws her head back, laughing, and pushes his shoulder. “Jaz stops. That's Rafe. He's from OBX. He was helping Mom and just got caught up in my blabber fest.” Rafe stands to shake your brother's hand and, shaking his head, adds, “I enjoyed hearing what you were saying. I kinda like learning more history.” now he's lying through his teeth, but it makes you smile, so he smirks back. He doesn't understand why your family is compelling him to be so gentlemanly, but for a moment, he has to catch the smirk he feels from thinking of introducing himself to your brother as his future brother-in-law but thinks better of it.

After the introduction, he turns to you and says, “If you ever need to find me, I live at Tannyhill. It's not hard to miss. Just ask for me, and I'll be there.” he smiles. “ I hope to see you. Around.” You smile at him shyly, looking down and saying, “Me too,” and then you jump on your brother's back, saying, “Onward boah, we've got places to see.” he smiles and shakes his head but continues as Rafe slowly makes his way out of your house and down the steps.

He stands in your yard, watching you and your brother hop in your blue Jeep. It rumbles to life as the music blasts through your speakers so loud everyone in the whole neighborhood can hear the words from Cold Cold Cold by Cage the Elephant from your car as you jump out the top, yelling to your parents as Jason speeds off, saying “Catching some waves be home by the set love ya” you laugh throwing your head back again capturing Rafe with your whole aura.

He stands there watching you disappear, with loud music, a bubbly laugh, and a bright smile in tow with you. Kelcle and Topper walk up behind him, and Topper pats him on the shoulder. “She’ll be the death of you, that's for sure.” Rafe shrugs his hand off and stomps back to the pavement in Topper's yard and says, “Ball-in Top, let go.” Topper and Kelce laugh, shaking their heads, knowing he's already down bad as Rafe is simultaneously thinking about inviting your good Ol’ Pops and Brother to the country club for some golf and town talk to show them the outer banks; he has an excellent feeling about the new girl in town with a devilish smirk and pep in his step he starts to think.

Hey all this is my first writing I've done please let me know if you like and want more of this or something else in open to all suggestions thank you for reading this it means a lot 💕

if you would like to keep on reading:

The New Girl in Town - Masterlist

All rights belong to the owners of Netflix and the Outer Banks. I do not own any characters except the family. The fiction is simply for fun. All copyrights belong to the original owners.

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bloodycyrano · 11 months ago

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Here's what Team Tadpole would do for you for valentine's day!

Karlach: She would get you the absolute BIGGEST plushie she could find, and chocolates. Post-upgrades, she would cuddle the plushie for a few nights beforehand so it smells like her. She'd probably bring you to a carnival- One that *isn't* infested with shapeshifters this time -and try to take turns winning each other prizes.

Wyll: Wyll Ravengard spares no romantic gesture. He brought you your favorite flowers and decided to take you out dancing! He wanted to finish off the night with a romantic walk on the beach, but Mizora crashed your date, and now the three of you are playing board games because she wouldn't leave- Which Wyll isn't exactly happy about, but he's content as long as he gets to spend time with you.

Gale: Gale would probably make you a home-cooked meal in his tower back at home and absolutely shower you with affection and little magic tricks to dazzle the eyes. He's constantly seeking that approval, so you'd better believe he's going all out.

Halsin: Halsin would take you on a picnic in the prettiest part of the woods he could find, and surprise you with a special wild garden bed of your favorite flowers. He'd also have a whittled duck for you.

Shadowheart: Shadowheart would bring you a single night-blooming flower and a bottle of wine. She'd probably take you somewhere dark and secluded where you could simply spend the night enjoying each other's company, away from the rest of the world.

Astarion: Astarion is happy to do almost anything as long as he's with you. You stopped by his grave to leave flowers- A cute gesture he's likely become accustomed to. Perhaps he takes you out to dinner, or to a play he knows you've been wanting to see, but the real treat is when he takes you back home to cuddle and read together. Horror novels and shocking favorites only.- You wouldn't expect it, but he does voices for the characters if you get him to read out loud. His faked accents are awful, but it's cute.

Ascended Astarion: Awe, you didn't think I'd leave you guys out, did you? So. He's likely to do something flashier. A wine tasting, or maybe take you to get a new outfit tailored to fit you perfectly. It doesn't match anything you'd actually choose to wear, but it paints the perfect picture of the vampire consort trophy spouse he's decided that you are. He keeps setting up little things that you feel are supposed to make you happy, but it's filled with a harsh coldness and an empty stare. You've all but given up hope that the Astarion you know and love is still in there until the night comes to a close, and he brings you home. He's being strangely affectionate and sweet. Cuddly. At first, you take this as a sign of better days - until he won't stop biting you, no matter what you say or do. Eventually, he's taken so much blood that you pass out; and you wake up in your locked chambers alone with a pretty, expensive necklace and roses. No note. It doesn't even matter if roses are your favorite flower or not. He doesn't care.

Lae'zel: She didn't know Valentine's Day was a thing. She can't pronounce it and literally had no idea why everyone was making a big deal about the holiday, etc. She was, however, very surprised when you brought her a gift. She tried to seem uninterested in the whole "mushy, romantic stuff," but you could practically see her heart melt when you made a romantic gesture. You spent the rest of the day together - She probably tried to bring you out hunting or sparring.

Durge: Durge would either give you a mortal heart in a jar or a vial of their own blood, and disturbing poetry they wrote for you. They might try to get you to get matching tattoos with them, but they won't push you if you'd rather not. Aside from that, they might take you to a cemetery or a long lost ruin to bask in the macabre beauty of the space. They'd also bring brownies they made themself.- They were going to pack a picnic, but they didn't want to smother you; and they're really better at baking than they are at cooking.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate meme #astarion #bg3 durge #dark urge #gale dekarios #baldurs gate tav #lae'zel #wyll ravengard #shadowheart #halsin #karlach #valentines day #bg3 scenarios #scenarios #ascended astarion

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hwangism143 · 7 months ago

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pillow talk

synopsis: the three times in which you sleep over at seungmin's childhood home as his friend and the one time you're something more.

pairing: non-idol!seungmin x gn!reader

genre: hurt, comfort, angt

warnings: mentions of abandonment, reader is an orphan and in foster care, swearing, food

word count: 3.3k words

now playing: you make me feel - easha

requested: by the lovely @booksndpoetry

a/n: wrote this is two days no wonder it's so bad (pls dont kill me)

"the colors of your love came so suddenly"

The first time you slept over at his childhood home was accompanied with the dull throb and apprehension of yet another new beginning.

Your one solitary bag and the pillow that was your only prized possession were the only things you had with you. Your bag hung off one shoulder and the pillow was clutched to your chest.

You found yourself wondering what Seungmin's family was like. Being a pessimist, you didn't hope for the best and braced yourself for the worst. When the door opened, warm yellow light spilled through the silhouette of a middle-aged women and temporarily blinded you.

Your posture slightly relaxed. Families with an abundance of yellow lights rarely mistreated you.

Your situation was laughable really. You weren't even a full two weeks into the Jang's care, and yet the neglect had already begin.

Stop, you told yourself, at least they were willing to take your old ass in. The Jangs' were away for a business trip and informed you last minute that their flight had been cancelled. They told you to g once she locked up left.

It wasn't that you weren't grateful to the Jangs; but the years you had spent being grateful and getting nothing in return caused you to offer a cautious thanking to their actions. They were sweet to you so far, but you didn't blame them for wanting you out of the house when you were gone.

Foster kids and newly adopted kids had a history of stealing, and while you had never done the same, the feeling of paranoia was one that you were well accustomed to.

Mrs. Kim had a kind, slightly wrinkled face and a wide smile. "Hello dear. You must be Y/N. Come in, come in. Don't stand in the cold for too long."

You could instantly feel the maternal protection that radiated from Mrs. Kim, something you felt in dots and dashed from Mrs. Jang. You knew the Jangs cared, but they didn't quite know how to care. You knew that the Kims had two kids however, an older daughter in college and a boy, sixteen and your age.

Younger you would be mentally cartwheeling in happiness at the thought of being under the care of Mrs. Kim, even if it was for a night. Older you couldn't care less.

Two years until I leave the fucking system for good.

You shifted uncomfortably as you gazed around the house. Wow. It was well decorated and definitely reflected the luxury that the Kims resided in. Everything in sight was in warm and inviting shades of color that made you feel very appreciative.

Interior design had always been a point of interest for you. You realized that there was a lot you could learn about a person from the way they designed their home.

Mrs. Kim turned to look at you. "Ah, you'll be in Seungmin's sister's room. I have told him to clean it up, so you won't have to worry about that. His father is out playing golf, but he'll be home soon too."

Mrs. Kim handed you a glass of water which you accepted with a genuine smile. You were gazing at the family portraits on the wall as you sipped quietly. The entire family looked like they were surrounded by an aura of calm, unbothered by the qualms of the world.

Oh how sweet would it be, to live like that.

"Can I- can I go change upstairs please?" you asked Mrs. Kim softly.

She looked up from the chopping board, lettuce diced evenly. "Oh, of course darling. No need to ask. As long as you're here, this house is yours."

"Seungmin!" she yelled to an unknown entity who must have been on the second floor of the house.

"Coming!" yelled back Seungmin.

The sweetness of his voice took you aback. Just one word made you crave to hear more. His voice was smooth and rich like honey, washing over you. You wondered if he had an inclination towards music, singing in particular; with a voice like that, it would be a shame if he wasn't.

Footsteps pounded down the stairs and a boy with a black t-shirt and grey sweatpants appeared in front of you and Mrs. Kim. He was cute, almost puppy like, with flappy hair and defined features. Seungmin bounded over to his mother and looked at you curiously.

"Seungmin, this is Y/N. Take her upstairs, will you?" Mrs. Kim asked.

"Okay," Seungmin replied.

You extended you hand. "Hello. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Seungmin accepted with a non-judgmental, but curious expression. Mrs. Kim visibly smiled into the large pot she was currently stirring, clearly amused at your outdated usage of language. You cringed internally, mentally cursing the British family that you were with for two years from the age of five for forcing you into greeting people this way.

"It's nice to meet you to," his warm hand grasped yours and let go with a firm shake.

"Come on," said Seungmin, cocking his head towards the stairs in front of you.

You followed his slowly, taking in the houses beauty. Somehow, everything worked with everything. This must have been artistic living.

Seungmin opened his sister's bedroom door and motioned you to go in. You gave him a small smile, if it could be called that, and shut the door. When you turned around, you were met with a lot of surprise.

When Mrs. Kim mentioned that Seungmin was cleaning up the room for you, you were prepared to face a light skimming and dusting of things. In reality though, everything was meticulously arranged and kept in it's place.

Such level of neatness was slightly terrifying.

You changed and kept your things to one side. When you came out, you went downstairs with the clear intention of trying to get a read on the enigmatic Kim Seungmin.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

This was going to be a disaster.

Both you and Seungmin were quiet by nature. Albeit for different reasons, you both sat awkwardly, waiting for the other person.

Seungmin was quiet because he liked observing. He was a listener, and enjoyed hearing what others had to say rather than talking himself. He found the art of listening to be the most brilliant that there was.

You, on the other hand, were forced into being quiet to the point where you forgot what it was like to hold meaningless conversation. All your life, you had been taught that the key to a successful life in the foster system was to remain submissive and deferential.

You never even bothered to make connections with people. You had learnt the hard way that when you bounced around houses and cities, it was difficult to maintain contact with people. You had made up your mind at just the tender age of eight that making friends, hell even acquaintances, was pointless. You were just saving yourself and the other person from future heartbreak.

As a result of being alone so much, you didn't exactly know how to hold conversation with people in your age range.

"So, uh, wanna do something?" Seungmin asked.

You shrugged. "Sure."

You both sat in his basement, a bowl of popcorn in between and half drunk iced tea beside you. Seungmin was very respectful, not once brining up your living situation. He brought the drink to his lips and downed the rest (which was very little) in one go.

"Okay, um, twenty questions?" He asked.

You instantly felt discomfort rise in you. Ah, here it was. His opening to ask you intrusive questions. "I- fine," you relented.

You were ready for whatever shade he was going to throw at you. He didn't ask about your personal life apart from the usual questions (favorite color, movie, etc.) a single time. You were slowly warming up to him.

"Last question. What's something you haven't told anyone?" asked Seungmin innocently.

You snorted, "Why would I tell you that?"

Seungmin smirked, "I mean, I'm very trustworthy. Plus, it's always better to tell your secrets to a stranger rather than a person you know."

You found it strange, but conceded. It felt nice to talk to someone after so long.

"You know the pillow I brought with me, right? That's the most important thing in my life. I was found near a train station laid on top of it, covered in a blanket and a sweater. Those were taken away from me a long time ago, but the pillow was something I fought to keep."

You finished nonchalantly, suppressing a laugh at Seungmin's expression of pure shock.

"I was expecting something along the lines of breaking something fancy or something. I mean, I was going to tell you about the time I broke into my parents liquor closet but chickened out and never drank anything."

You regarded him with a guarded smile. Kim Seungmin was an enigma, but for the first time in your life, he was one which you felt an odd temptation to solve.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The second time you slept over at his childhood home was full of fear and anticipation that was directed towards your college entrance exams tomorrow.

Although the Jangs never formally adopted you, you had stayed with them for close to two years now. You formed an interesting bond with Seungmin: you weren't quite friends, but you understood each other on a deeper level.

Seungmin was easily the only person you would talk to. You both started engaging in combined study sessions, filled with silence interrupted only by a pen scratching against paper or a groan of frustration.

The night before, you needed to go to Seungmin's house to revise. Or rather, to confess.

You were pacing in his room as he lay on his bed. Seungmin was on his back, flipping through one of his textbooks. Finally, he let out a sigh.

"Alright. What is it?" he asked.

"I need to get the top score," you insisted. Seungmin looked at you with a raised eyebrow.

"Everyone does," he said matter of factly.

"No, everyone wants it, but I need it," you repeated.

Silence with Seungmin was never uncomfortable, post your initial interaction. Silence with Seungmin alleviated your tensions. This silence, however, felt pressing.

"Tell me something you have never told anyone," he asked you quietly.

The routine asking of this question had become a habit between you two now. Whenever you noticed that the other was shifty, holding something back, this was their cue to tell you what was wrong.

"I'm being selfish," you groaned, "I need to so that my name gets published somewhere, anywhere, so that my birth parents know I'm alive and find me. I'm not giving them the liberty of me searching for them. They lost that a long time ago. If they want me, it's them who need to look for me."

You plopped onto Seungmin's office chair and pointlessly spun in circles. He studied you carefully.

After a pause, he responded, "I'll be honest. You are being selfish. You want this, no, apparently need this for reasons that have nothing to do with your future studies, which is what college entrance exams are all about. But considering you situation, I believe it's completely justified."

You instantly felt at ease. This boy you only know for two years astoundingly always knew the right thing to say.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

You and Seungmin had the house to yourself. His parents were visiting his sister, helping her settle into her new apartment. You ads Seungmin had to share his room, the other rooms stored with his sister's things that needed to be moved.

You were practically asleep in his bedroom but an uneasy churning in your stomach kept you awake. You could hear Seungmin lightly open the door and step inside.

"Wait, I'm gonna go get the air mattress," he voiced in the dark room.

You turned towards him. "No, just sleep with me."

"You sure?" He asked.

Seungmin knew about your hesitancy towards forming attachments and committing. You hummed in affirmation, knowing that he would get little to no sleep on the air mattress and wouldn't let you sleep on it either.

He slid in beside you, his face facing yours. You both just looked into each other's eyes until you broke away, turning to the other side. Seungmin felt a part of his heart chip away for reasons he couldn't really identify.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

You felt bile work it's way up your throat and knew you wouldn't be able to suppress it. Carefully getting out of bed to make sure Seungmin didn't wake up, you made your way to the bathroom.

Routinely swallowing your vomit, you got to the bathroom and without even switching on it's lights, heaved out the contents of your stomach as quietly as possible.

Or so you thought. A drowsy Seungmin materialized at the doorway, turning on the light and watching you in concern. You flushed the toilet and violently splashed your face with water.

"Being half asleep is a very good look on you," he mumbled dryly.

"Likewise," you panted, an apologetic expression on your face.

You hated physical touch. Seungmin knew you hated physical touch. But when you reached over to lightly squeezed his hand as an apology, Seungmin felt a similar constriction in his chest.

To Kim Seungmin, you were a mystery he hadn't quiet solved, but he was still, willing to do anything for you, and the unfamiliarity of such a feeling scared him beyond belief.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The third time you slept over at his childhood home was full of nostalgia and memories.

You both were twenty two, finishing up your undergraduates, when you mentioned to Seungmin in passing that you would be in town on your way for an assignment that would require you to travel. Seungmin jumped at the idea of you staying with him, since he was house sitting for his parents that very weekend.

Seungmin would be lying if he said that he wasn't hurt by your slowly decreasing contact. Conversation between you both slowly dwindled, but he never pried as to why. He understood that you rarely ever maintained an attachment, and that he was lucky for what he had.

You wondered what it would be like when you went back. The Jangs had never fostered a child after you, but never called you their daughter. They maintained contact with you but never attended events like graduation.

Still, deep down, at the end of the day, you knew you carried two things in your heart: Your now battered pillow and Seungmin.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

You both were sitting in his backyard, legs crossed over each other on Seungmin's folding chairs. Stars littered the sky the way they littered his eyes, and you couldn't help but be entranced by the wistful gaze that Seungmin held.

"Tell me something you have never told anyone," you asked, leaning your head over, near his shoulder. Just a few inches, and it would placed on it.

Just a few inches, and everything would mean something.

Seungmin knew his words carried gravity, but he was tired of walking on coal around you.

"I missed you," he said, a near whisper.

You stilled. "Your turn," came his voice after an eternity.

"I talk to my pillow sometimes. I pretend like it's a family member. It stopped, when I used to live here. But it grew in frequency during college. There is something inherently wrong with me, and I think that it's either me being undeserving of love or me never having been loved."

When your voice finally faded, Seungmin turned to look at you. Your eyes were glassy and unfocused. He wanted nothing more than to shake some sense into you, tell you that you were loved. Hell, he was proof, if you needed it.

"You're loved. If you weren't you wouldn't be here," Seungmin said hoarsely.

You snorted in response. "Yeah, I sure as hell wouldn't be here if I was loved."

Your words stung but Seungmin wasn't deterred. "I love you," he said softly.

Your eyes widened fractionally and you turned to look at him. "What?"

"No," he laughed, "Not that way. I love you as a friend, a confidant, as someone I know I can always talk too. Not... whatever it was you were thinking."

You visibly eased under the effects of his words, but noticed that Seungmin didn't do the same. His body was still tense, still rigid.

"What is it?" you asked.

"I- I know I said I love you as a friend but," Seungmin's voice faltered.

"But?" you prodded, your own heartbeat increasing with each passing moment.

"I would be falsifying my emotions if I said there weren't times when I wanted to love you in different ways as well. Romantically. Intimately. Devotionally," he added in an uncharacteristically shy tone, "If you'll have me."

And you realized, with a start that you did want him. But doubts started plaguing your mind, started seeping into your body and mixing with your being. What is the pain of it was so irreparable that you would never be able to love, if you ever could in the first place, again?

"What if I can't recognize your love for love?" you questioned meekly.

"Then I'll say it to you everyday. Platonically at first, romantically, maybe, afterwards, but I'll say it to you every single day. If every hour if you want me too. Because it's the truth."

You felt the warmth that accompanied thoughts of Seungmin blooming in the pits of your stomach. Or maybe it was the barbecued chicken you just ate. In the heat of the moment, you weren't quite that sure.

"And what if I can't love you? All I have ever known towards this world is hate."

"Then I'll teach you. We have all the time in the world to do so. If all you have known is hate, then love should come easily. They're very similar emotions," Seungmin said softly.

He hesitantly moved his hand towards yours, and laced his fingers through the pads of your knuckles. You did the same and moved you head to place it on his shoulder. Now, everything did mean something.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The fourth time you had slept over at his childhood home, Seungmin taught you that love could be found in every aspect of the world.

It was hidden in the way sparrows flew towards each other in the summer, in the way mothers looked at their children and the way a child looked at candy. It came in droppings, reflected in the way you felt about rain and cherry blossoms.

Seungmin taught you how love was found in the grand and the simple.

Love was when he sent you large bouquets of roses that you had know idea where to keep and the surprise picnics you planned for him. It was the coffee he prepared for you every morning without question and the way you paused whatever you were watching when he had to step out for a phone call.

At the Kim house, you experienced even more love.

Sisterly love, when Seungmin's sister showed off the clothes she brought for you. Maternal love, when Mrs. Kim squealed in excitement when she spotted you holding Seungmin's hand. Paternal love, when Mr. Kim placed a bet against his team while giving you a wink. Brotherly love, when Seungmin's cousin tried to steal food off your plate.

You felt love everywhere, and slowly but surely, you spread love everywhere.

That night, Seungmin held you close and sang into your hair the way he did every night.

"I love you," he yawned, and snuggled into you.

And, you wanted to say it back. Mustering up the courage, you replied, "I think I love you too. No, I know I love you too."

Seungmin looked at you in astonishment and you realized that you were right all along.

He did have stars in his eyes.

You didn't know much about love. You were still learning, still faltering. But you knew one thing for certain: the love you held for Seungmin and the love he held for you would never go away.

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