#...........and that's another pair that's in the past and i unfortunately cling on

[jihyoruri]

❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ 𓍢BUBBLE GUM kang haerin x reader

↳ warnings yn is a member of new jeans, fluff, haerin being confused with her emotions, soon to be girlfriends, black cat and golden retriever

with all the windows open in the house letting the natural light shine, the air hung heavy with humidity, wrapping around every surface like a blanket, yn reclined upside down on the worn out couch, her body glistening with sweat, the sticky warmth clinging to her skin like a second layer.

she wore a delicate tank top adorned with whimsical flowers and trimmed with intricate lace, it was paired with loose cloth shorts draped comfortably over her legs, offering minimal spare from the relentless heat.

with each exhale, she blew a bubble of pink bubblegum, you’d think she’d grow tired of blowing bubble gum since the group has got here to film the music video but boredom got to her this was the only thing she could think of doing as a distraction from the fact that they had no service.

she gazed upwards, she basked in the gentle caress of the fan's oscillating breeze, making eye contact with the cat like girl who sat across from her with a fan in her hand.

haerin immediately broke eye contact and shifted uncomfortably fanning herself faster,she reluctantly acknowledged to herself that she had been fixating on yn for longer than she cared to admit. despite her best efforts to ignore it, she couldn't deny yn’s undeniable beauty,even when they’re tired from filming over these past couple of days in an unexpected heat wave.

it wasn’t that she hated yn, she just wasn’t a big fan of the girl like everyone else is, yn was a late addition, she was added to lineup for the group only a month before they had to start recording and filming, so haerin never got the chance to get close to the girl.

well, she just didn’t allow herself, all the other girls immediately made it their job to get to know yn, so they can all feel like a family, there was something about yn that always threw her off, she could never pin point what emotion she was feeling so she just declared it being dislike for the annoyingly pretty girl.

and unfortunately to haerin’s luck, the rest of the girls went to go see the water and left the two alone for the day and to be honest it was pretty awkward, yn and haerin are barely left alone and when they are most of the time both girls just stay in their rooms, so this was new.

“it’s so hot.” yn whined as she fixed her self from her upside down position and got up from couch making her way to kitchen, the same kitchen that they filmed in yesterday, she grabbed two bottles of juice and made her way back to where her and haerin were lofting.

“here” she said softly passing the cold drink to haerin who looked up at her from her seat and gently took the bottle from her hand their hands touching for a split second, “thank you.”

“no problem.” they sat in silence they drank their drinks, desperately trying to cool down, haerin was waiting for yn to say something since the girl was always to talkative

“I’m bored.” yn said out loud, haerin only gave the talkative girl a nod in agreement, taking another sip from her drink.

haerin flinches when she hears a loud gasp from yn who darted over to the nearby table, her movements quick and purposeful as she retrieved a box and settled herself on the floor. a sense of confusion filled haerin as she observed yn patting the empty space in front of her, a silent invitation that hung heavy in the air.

reluctantly, haerin rose from her seat, her footsteps hesitant as she approached yn. sitting opposite of yn on the floor, she regarded the box with curiosity, unsure of what to expect. yn’s infectious enthusiasm filled the rooms, her eyes sparkling with childlike excitement as she eagerly explained her idea.

“let’s make bracelets!” yn exclaims flashing a cute smile to haerin who gives the girl a puzzled look, her smile was radiant, a stark contrast to haerin’s lingering skepticism. "I forgot Hyein packed this," she continued, gesturing towards the box with a flick of her wrist. "since there's nothing to do, let's make some."

haerin’s initial puzzlement melted away, replaced by a flicker of reluctant amusement as she observed yn’s unwavering enthusiasm. with a sigh, she opened the box, her fingers sifting through the assortment of strings, beads and cute charms yn’s grin widened at haerin’s reluctant participation, a silent victory in her quest to break through the barriers of their strained acquaintance.

“so, filming has been fun right?” yn says as they make their bracelets, if there was one thing about the girl it’s the she could never not not start a conversation, she loved to talk, she loved to break shells of other people and ever since she met kang haerin that has been her ultimate mission to win the girls heart over.

haerin nodded as she focused on the bracelet, “yeah.” she says quietly, as time went on she listens to yn’s rambles about the filming for the music video over the past couple of days, transition to the girl raving about her favourite character in a new show that she started watching and the girl can’t help but feel at ease at yn’s presence and talkative ways.

it was sweet.

haerin laughed quietly at yn who started a rant about the character that was mean to her favourite character, “I don’t mean to be mean, but I wouldn’t be sad if they kill him off.” yn says guilty causing haerin to shake her head in amusement as she adds the finishing clip to her bracelet.

“oh my gosh.” yn gasps looking at the bracelet, “that’s so pretty.” she says reaching over to admire the bracelet that had a flower charm hanging from it.

“I like yours as well.” haerin responds her cheeks heating up slightly as she admires the bracelet yn made with a star charm hanging from it.

a sense of confidence powers over her and she grabs yn’s wrist and clips the bracelet she made on the girls wrist resulting in yn gasping and giving haerin the biggest smile known to man.

yn then grabbed haerin’s wrist and does the same clipping on the bracelet she made to the girls wrist, “now we’re matching.” she says happily.

as haerin’s hesitant fingers grazed over the vibrant array of strings and beads, a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips, mirroring the infectious enthusiasm radiating from yn. caught off guard by the unexpected warmth of the moment, she couldn't suppress the soft giggle that bubbled up from within her, caused yn to giggle as well.

their gazes lingered, curiosity and vulnerability meeting in a silent exchange of understanding. for a moment, the walls that had stood between them crumbled, replaced by an unspoken connection of their shared laughter.

the sound of the door opening cuts off their soft moment the sounds of the other girl’s voices filling the house.

“we’re back!”

yn gets up from the floor and stretches her hand out to haerin who looks at it before softly placing her hand in yn’s, they smile at each other when yn pulls her up but watch shocks her is that yn doesn’t let go of her hand.

instead the girl interlocks their fingers and drags the girl along with her towards the door way.

“did you guys bring food?!”

“yn we’re in the middle nowhere, what food are we going to bring?”

#new jeans #kang haerin #kang haerin x reader #haerin #haerin x reader #new jeans x reader #new jeans fluff #girl group fluff #girl group imagines #new jeans imagines

[readerthatreadsss]

Worth The Wait | Steven Grant

(Inspired by the song of the same title by Kali Uchis)

Pairing: Steven Grant x fem!reader

Word Count: 6.2k

Summary: You and Steven have been roommates for a while now. But one night after being stood up by yet another guy in a string of dates gone wrong, Steven offers you some support...which sparks an interesting chain of events.

Warnings[18+ activities MDNI]: sub! (ish) Steven, dom! (ish) reader, fools in love, friends/roommates to lovers, mentions of drunk reader (but not drunk when they actually have sex, you'll see), crying (reader's drunk and starts venting for a bit, that's all), unprotected p in v sex (cloak the joker before you poke her), oral sex (steven and r receiving), Steven doubting himself mid-sex, assertive reader and awkward Steven! , choking (r receiving), riding, creampie, barely edited cause I'm really fuckin tired.

A/N: Hi. Don't ask me where I found the time or motivation to write this shit when school started back a month ago. The idea just popped into my head and my fingers didn't stop moving once I opened a draft. Note, I have a tall fem! reader x Steven in my drafts to finish so don't think I forgot!

"Steeeeven," knock knock knock, "STEVENNNN," knock knock knock−

Steven's brows furrowed beneath his reading glasses at the sound of your voice coming from outside your shared apartment door. Concern as well as confusion sprang through him instantly. You sounded drunk. Which he was sure to be the case seeing as you were sloppily knocking at the door rather than opening it with your keys.

He quickly shut the book he was reading and removed his glasses before making his way over to the door in fear that your next call of his name would wake the entire building.

Unfortunately, he opened the door at the very moment you launched your hand forward to knock once more. This caused you to tumble through the door with a drunken yelp. But Steven caught you in his arms before your body could hit the ground.

You looked up at him with a lazy smile and hooded eyes. "Thanks, Stevie bear," you hiccuped, using both hands to cling onto one of his very defined biceps. You had never realized how big and firm they were before that moment.

"You're welcome," Steven replied worriedly. He swiftly shut the door with his foot and used your grip on his arm to bring you standing back on your feet. "Y/n what the bloody hell happened to your date?"

You rolled your eyes at his question, kicking off your heels and making your way over to the couch without somehow falling again. "See now, Steven," you paused and pointed at him drunkenly, "it can't be a date if the said date doesn't even bother to show up!" you explained.

Steven sighed deeply at your explanation as he sat on the other end of the couch. This wasn't the first time this had happened to you—or him for that matter—but he could never understand why. You were easily one of the most beautiful women in London, and definitely one of the smartest, (your framed Ph.D. in psychology hanging over the television was evidence of that). You were the full package and more. Any man would be lucky to have you.

But the men of London were clearly morons if they kept standing you up or acting like complete knobs to you on your dates.

He would never do that to you. But he's seen photos of your past dates. A woman like you was way out of his league and would never go for someone like him, anyone with eyes could see that.

"How much have you had to drink?" Steven suddenly asked you.

You raised 3 fingers to the best of your ability. "Six," you answered before bursting into a fit of giggles at Steven's expression.

"Gosh, y/n, you're absolutely clobbered," he grabbed a blanket from the arm of the couch and spread it over where your short skin-tight dress was riding up your thighs.

"Well I didn't lie," you sat up abruptly, throwing the blanket off your lap and turning to face Steven and sit as crosslegged as your dress would allow, "Three of the drinks were margaritas...the other three were shots of vodka though," you admitted softly as if it were some secret for only yours and Steven's ears.

"Do you have work in the morning?" Steven questioned gently, picking up the blanket and handing it back to you. Your dress was riding up with every slight movement you made, which meant more of your thighs being exposed to him. Despite this, Steven wouldn't dare look anywhere except your eyes.

"Nope." You threw the blanket back on the floor. The night was pretty warm, you don't understand why Steven keeps giving it to you.

"Do you want me to make you some coffee or tea?"

"Yup."

Steven looked at you in question for a few seconds. "Which one?" he prodded, fighting back a smile at your muddled state.

You moved closer and narrowed your eyes, "Which one of what?" you questioned, truly confused, before breaking out into another fit of drunken giggles that caused you to momentarily tumble forward and land your hands on Steven's thighs.

"Coffee it is then," Steven answered for you, his voice traveling up an octave. He then carefully moved your hand from his thighs, trying to ignore the chills your touch sent up his spine, and hightailed it to the kitchen to put on the percolator for you.

You tilted your head as he walked away, noting how quickly he left.

When Steven returned with your cup of coffee (with cream and no sugar just how you liked it), he found you seated in the same spot but with his blanket draped over your head and body while soft sniffles and sobs met his ears.

He placed your cup on the table nearby and carefully approached your figure on the couch. Steven reached for the blanket and slowly removed it from your body.

"Why are you crying, love?" he sweetly asked once your face came into view.

"Because I'm a mess," you sniffled, using a hand to wipe the trail of tears falling from your eyes.

Steven's head tilted in disbelief at your words. "You don't really believe that, do you?"

"Yes I do," you nodded fervently, "It's why my dates have sucked for the past 2 months, it's why I got passed over for that goddamn promotion at work last week, and it's why you can't stand being around me for longer than 3 minutes these days."

Steven was taken aback by your words. You thought he couldn't stand to be around you? That's impossible.

"You practically sprinted to the kitchen!" you added after a few moments of silence.

"To make you coffee," Steven protested, gesturing to the cup lying untouched nearby.

"I saw your face," you looked down at where your hands lay in your lap.

Steven swallowed harshly. "Y/n."

You ignored his call for your attention.

"Look at me," he came closer and entangled his hands with your own in your lap, immediately causing you to look up at him with tear-stained eyes, "You are not a mess," he softly yet sternly said to you.

"Yes I am−"

"No. You are not," he interrupted your arguing, "Your dates? They're all losers for letting you slip through their hands. And if a few bad dates is fate's way of making you wait to find the one, then I think that's well worth the holdup, yeah?"

You chewed on your bottom lip anxiously before nodding in agreement.

"And as for my behavior earlier, it was−" Steven paused with a sigh fumbling for a sensible excuse, "it's your perfume."

You pulled a face that would have made Steven laugh under normal circumstances. "My perfume? You hate my perfume?"

Steven swallowed harshly. He hated lying. He wasn't even good at it. But convincing you that he couldn't bear your perfume was easier than admitting that he just couldn't handle the way your hands felt on his thighs or the way his entire body heated up when you leaned closer to him. "Yup. The smell was too much for me," he fibbed.

You rested your head in your palms, pouting slightly. "But you're the only reason I wear this perfume, Steven," you confessed, barely audible.

Steven's face fell. "What?"

"You told me that you liked it when I moved in and from then I kept buying it just because you liked it."

Steven's heart swelled at your admission. He felt like an asshole. He was no better than the losers you'd been going on dates with.

You continued to speak. You could feel words preparing to leave your lips that have been eating at you for a while, now guided by your lowered inhibitions. "And I didn't only mean just now. These past few weeks you can barely look me in my eyes, or be near me, Steven. What am I doing wrong?" your voice broke with your last words.

Steven had seen you cry a few times before. But this time was different. The look on your face was heart-wrenching. He couldn't believe that he made you feel like this.

Because he was having trouble dealing with his own feelings for you, he made you think he hated you...when it was the complete opposite.

"There's nothing wrong with you. It's all my fault," Steven said, breaking away from your gaze, feeling it pierce through him.

"I'm the one who was dumb enough to fall in love with you..." he added, only to look up and see you passed out against the arm of the couch.

A part of him was saddened that you fell asleep before hearing his confession. But another was grateful and profoundly unprepared for your inevitable rejection.

Steven looked at you for a few more seconds before carefully picking you up—smiling to himself when you curled into his chest—and carrying you to your bedroom.

° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

You woke up in a slight daze...and in someone else's bed.

It took a few glances around the room for you to piece together that you were in Steven's room.

And then all of last night's events came back to mind, seeping in and clearing the fog that your excessive alcohol consumption had sired;

Your failed date. Coming home and falling into Steven's arms. Saying way too much to Steven. Steven's last words before your body shut down.

Steven.

Steven.

Steven.

"Oh God," you mumbled, cradling your face in your hands.

Eventually, you pulled yourself out of the bed and stumbled into the bathroom for a shower. You thanked whatever higher power was at work that Steven was still asleep on the couch when you padded through the living room.

But when you finished showering and exited the bathroom, you were hit with the smell of freshly brewed coffee. You poked your head into the living room to make sure Steven was still in the kitchen before running a path straight to your room and getting dressed.

After throwing on one of your old university crew necks and the first shorts you could get your hands on (which happened to be very short ones), you heard a knock at your door followed by Steven's voice.

"Y/N? I have a cup of green tea and some painkillers here...thought you'd need them."

You found yourself smiling at the sound of his voice, something that was becoming more common in recent weeks. What did you do to deserve a man like Steven in your life?

You quickly moved to open the door and let Steven in. "Hey, Steven," you greeted him with a small smile.

He released a nervous chuckle as he presented a cup and two pills to you. "Good morning."

You took them happily, bringing them to your night table. "I'm not actually feeling very hungover," you said to him, turning to sit on your bed.

"Really? That's surprising...considering last night," Steven replied, taking a hesitant step further into your room.

"Yeah must be my tolerance and all that," you shrugged, taking interest in how Steven had yet to meet your eyes since you opened the door.

A beat of silence passed between you while you took a sip of your tea. "Steven, you can sit," you softly spoke, gesturing to your bed.

"Oh, sure," Steven took a seat at the farthest edge of your bed, maintaining a more than comfortable space between you.

"How'd I end up in your bed this morning?" you suddenly questioned. You were genuinely curious, but the reaction it garnered from Steven was more than worth it.

After a brief clear of his throat, Steven answered, "Well you sorta climbed into my bed in the middle of the night, gave me quite a scare actually, and I wanted to give you space to rest so I let you have my bed and I slept in the couch."

"Oh, I'm sorry," you frowned, a tinge of embarrassment seeping in, "Why didn't you sleep in my bed?"

"Because..." laying in your bed that smells flawlessly like you would've sent him into cardiac arrest- "the couch is more comfortable."

You nodded in understanding, placing your half-empty teacup back on the table.

"If you uh need anything," Steven stood up from your bed, slowly walking backward to the door, "just shout," he said as he turned to open the door.

"Did you mean it?"

Steven halted in place at your words, his back still facing you.

You slid off your bed and approached his oddly still figure.

Steven's throat ran dry. There's no way you could have actually heard him. Right? "What?" is all he managed to say.

You walked past him and used a hand to close the door, coming to stand in front of him. You needed to look at his face. Living with Steven for a year has taught you that he wasn't a man of many words but his face said more than enough when he couldn't. Drunk you couldn't utilize your psych degree the night before, but sober you sure could at that moment.

"Did you mean it?" you repeated, "When you said you fell in love with me?"

Steven's jaw slackened when he met your stare, that feeling of being pierced by your gaze returning. "I-"

Your eyes narrowed as you took a step closer to him, now being close enough for his nervous breaths to fan across your lips. "Because if you meant it then I would tell you that. I think..." you paused and looked away for a moment, "No, I know that I love you too."

Steven's hooded brown eyes widened. He blinked a few times, trying to will himself to wake up if this was a dream.

You bit back a small laugh at his expression before you continued. "I love how willing you were to rent some small-time therapist your extra bedroom because you heard her crying in the corner of a coffee shop that she'd been kicked out by her stupid ex-boyfriend. I love the mugs you buy me every month because you saw them and they reminded you of me. I love how you watch shitty action movies with me after every bad date I have because you want to take my mind off them. I love how much you care about...everything really. I love you, Steven Grant," an enlightened smile rested on your face as you spoke, "and I'm sorry that I spent the past year thinking everything you made me feel was platonic when the truth was that you made me feel things that no one else has. I'm an idiot Steven-"

"No," Steven's first word came, a relieved smile accompanying it, "You are not an idiot. You are the smartest person I've ever met. Smarter than me, that's for sure," at that, you both laughed, "I've spent this whole year thinking that you would never see me as anything more than your weird, boring roommate...and turns out you loved me this whole time," he ended in a soft whisper, shocked by his own conclusion. Steven found his eyes drifting down to your lips and you immediately took note of it.

You exhaled deeply before closing the gap between you and Steven, meeting his lips in a bold kiss.

Initially stunned, Steven sunk into your lips soon after, gently bringing his hands up to rest on the sides of your face.

Your brain fogged as Steven devoured your lips, an unusual confidence taking over him. You wrapped your hands around his neck and smiled into the kiss, allowing Steven to slip his tongue past your lips, tasting more of you and pulling a moan from your chest.

Steven pulled away first, feeling himself enter a state that he wouldn't dare himself to in your presence. You bit back a whine when his lips left yours, looking up at him in confusion.

"We don't have to do this if you don't want to," he spoke, taking a step away from you.

You licked your lips and stepped towards him. "Steven, trust me, I want to do this. I want to do a lot more than this actually," you pulled his waist flush against your body, drawing a shared moan from you both when his growing bulge pressed against your stomach.

Steven's hands flew up to grab the back of your neck and your jaw. He softly muttered your name, as a warning more than anything else.

You leaned in and pressed a kiss against the corner of his lips. "If you say no, we will stop this right now and go eat breakfast. But if you say yes, we are gonna stay here and I'm gonna let you do very bad things to my body."

Steven swallowed harshly. "God, yes," he replied, failing to swallow back a whimper at the implication of your words.

Your hands squeezed his waist as you moved back to look at his face fully. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear that Stevie," you smirked.

Steven looked down at you with adoration clear in his eyes. He couldn't believe this was really about to happen. He used his hold on your neck to pull your lips crashing into his. This kiss was a lot more hungrier than the first, with Steven now making his intentions much clearer.

"I'll take that as a yes," you grinned between kisses.

Steven groaned his agreement as he continued to kiss you.

You used your grip on his waist to push him back towards your bed, effectively breaking your kiss and causing him to land on the edge of your bed with a grunt.

Steven looked up at you through his lashes in awe as you approached him. He watched keenly as you removed your top, wearing nothing underneath, before moving to straddle his thighs. Steven made a move to touch your chest before stopping his shaky hands midair and looking at you in question.

You gently held Steven's chin up and smiled down at him. "Steven you can touch me," you reassured him. Even in an intimate moment like this, he was ever the gentleman...

Steven indulged with a sheepish smile and brought both his palms to each of your breasts. Unable to help himself, Steven dove in and took one of your nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the hardened bud.

"Fuck, Steven," you moaned, eyes slamming shut at how good it felt. Your words only seemed to egg him on further as Steven switched to your other breast, his lips and tongue moving against it with more enthusiasm.

Your hands at the back of his neck grabbed fistfuls of his curls while his ministrations against your chest pulled more moans and whines from your lips.

Some time after, you pulled Steven's lips away from your breasts and met them in a searing kiss, pressing your clothed cunt down against his erection. "Shit," Steven lowly cursed, bringing his hands to your waist to grind you down further against his bulge.

You obliged with a moan, grinding in Steven's lap harder. "Tell me what you want, Steven," you whispered against his lips.

Steven's hands squeezed your waist harshly when your lips began sucking against his throat. He could barely put together thoughts at the moment, much less words.

You trailed a hand down to the waistband of Steven's sweats and slowly reached under it for his cock. You swallowed a moan when your hand traced his full length and girth. "You've been holding out on me Steven," you chuckled against his neck.

Steven blushed furiously at your words. "Thank you?" he responded awkwardly, barely functioning with your hand rubbing along his cock.

You chuckled once again, pulling away from his neck to look at him. "You're so pretty," you said, causing another wave of red to hit Steven's cheeks.

"No one's ever said that to me before," he admitted softly.

"Well that's okay, cause I want to be the only one who makes you blush like this," you grinned brushing a stray curl from his forehead, "I bet your cock is just as pretty," your hand picked up speed beneath Steven's pants, "Can I see it? Please?"

Steven nodded enthusiastically. "Anything you want," he said with a desperation that had your pussy throbbing with need. You briefly lifted your hips allowing Steven to clumsily slide off his sweatpants and boxers and step out of them.

Once you returned to your position on his thighs, you looked down at his cock, the head already dripping with small beads of precum. The length was truly unexpected, as well as the girth. You would do anything to feel him inside you.

But for now, you really wanted to taste him.

Steven watched you sink to your knees before him, your eyes never straying from his.

"Are you sure you want to-"

"Steven you said anything I wanted," you paused, gliding your fingers over his length and watching it twitch in response, "And I really want to taste you. Can I suck your cock, Steven?"

Steven's breathing picked up as he took in the image before him; you on your knees, touching his dick while literally begging to suck it with a look in your eyes he could only compare to the look of a wild female tiger eyeing her freshly caught meal in the nature documentary he watched the week before.

"Please, please do," his response came soon after.

You began with a kiss to the head of his cock that made it immediately jump in your hand. You couldn't help but chuckle, and it was a sound that Steven hoped would be the last thing he heard before he left this earth. "You're so sensitive, Stevie," you cooed before pressing another kiss but to the base of his length.

Steven released a sharp moan at both of your kisses to his cock, finding himself embarrassingly close to cumming already.

"Please," he pleaded your name with a whine, "stop teasing."

You swirled your tongue around the head where precum had gathered, moaning in time with your movements and drawing yet another mewl from Steven. "Oh but Stevie, I just love hearing you say please," you teased him, looking up from where you had a hand wrapped around his base and another briefly caressing his balls.

Steven was now panting, his eyes never leaving you as you held him. He watched you slowly wrap your lips around his tip before slowly sinking down.

After reaching a little more than halfway down Steven's cock, you felt yourself gag but simply stilled instead of removing yourself completely.

"Fucking hell," Steven grunted before melding into a pathetic moan once you held your position. You eventually let up when you almost ran out of air and slowly removed your lips from his dick, your eyes meeting his with tears streaming along your face from the stretch.

You were prepared to do it once again but felt Steven's palm grab your chin before you could. "No, love, please. If you do that again I'm afraid I'm not gonna last."

Steven watched you lick your lips before shifting to trap his thumb in between your lips and softly suck on it. He couldn't stop the whine that slipped his lips at your action.

You eventually released his thumb from the confines of your mouth and came to stand over him with a smile. "Well then. Tell me what you want to do next. I'm all yours, baby, remember?"

Steven brought his hands to rest on your hips and leaned forward to press a soft kiss against your stomach. "I-uhh," his brows furrowed and he shook his head briefly as if sending away a thought.

"What is it, Steven?"

The man beneath you looked up to meet your eager eyes, suddenly confident enough to say what he wanted. "I really...really want to taste you."

You felt your breath hitch at his request. It was rare for a man to enthusiastically offer to go down on you. Though it was clear to you now that Steven was most definitely a rare man.

"You want to?" you felt your voice come out a lot more unsure than usual.

Steven's brows furrowed once again as a fleeting smile graced his lips at your response. "Of course I do, sweetheart. Do men not usually..."

You harshly exhaled. "I mean some do but I usually have to complain first or they do it cause they want me to return the favor," you admitted.

"They don't deserve you. No one does," Steven softly uttered, gazing up at you with eyes you were growing more fond of by the minute.

You quickly leaned down to meet him in a kiss in response. You didn't deserve him either.

Steven pulled you back into his lap and kissed you back eagerly. But he was the first to pull away, causing you to whine in a way that made his cock jump against your cunt. "I-I really did mean it, love, I need to taste you. Now."

You had never seen Steven so demanding. It had you throbbing in anticipation. You allowed him to lay you on your back and peel away your shorts and panties to reveal the part of you where you needed him most.

Steven looked starstruck as he examined your arousal. He moved closer and closer to your pussy, letting his warm breath fan over your glistening lips.

"Steven please-" you begged, though you couldn't finish your thought before your voice broke into a loud moan when Steven licked a stripe from your entrance to your swollen clit.

Steven closed his eyes, relishing his first taste of you. It was everything he'd quite literally dreamed of and more.

And so, he eagerly dived into your core.

Your hands flew to Steven's head working between your legs as your thighs instinctively closed around his head from the sudden wave of pleasure surging through you.

The feeling of your thighs trapping his head against your pussy was absolute bliss to Steven. He moaned into you as his tongue swirled around your clit sloppily. If he was inexperienced, you couldn't tell because every movement of his tongue brought you closer and closer to your release.

The vibrations of Steven's enjoyment drew a brief scream from your chest before you slapped a hand over your lips to silence it.

Steven finally came up for air, his lips and jaws covered in your slick. His curls were strewn along his forehead by a damp layer of sweat as his dilated pupils met your own. "C'mon. I want to hear those pretty noises you make for me, love," he said before running two of his fingers through your folds to gather some of your wetness and slowly inserting them into you.

"Oh my-STEVEN" your back arched up and off your bed as you felt immediately filled up by Steven's digits.

Steven gauged your reactions as he slowly removed his fingers before pushing them again with no resistance due to your arousal. "I've wanted this for so long, love," he began to speak as he slowly leaned down to press his lips against your clit in a kiss, "Wanted to hear you moaning my name," he sped up his fingers' movements inside you, "Wanted to taste you," he added another finger, now touching that spot inside your walls with every thrust, "You're so beautiful," he ended before fully diving back in with his tongue against your bud.

"Yes—fuck—you're so good to me baby," you finally gathered enough breath to speak while gaining a proper grip on his head. With every sharp lick or nip he'd make, you would tighten your grip on his hair and it would only spur him on further. It was only a matter of seconds from there before...

"Shit, I'm gonna cum, Steven," you called out, looking down to meet where he was already staring up at you, and speeding up his fingers and tongue's ministrations against you.

He held your stare once he felt your walls clench around his fingers and heard your moan melt into a scream.

"Fuck, fuck, FUCK," you shouted as your orgasm slammed into you thanks to Steven's eager tongue and fingers.

Steven watched your chest slow its heaving when your climax subsided and removed his fingers but couldn't stop himself from licking the remnants of your release from your folds. It was as if he was trying to work you up to another orgasm.

"Shit Steven wait," you mewled, attempting to close your legs from overstimulation. But Steven used strength you'd never known him to have to shove your legs back open and hold them in place, clearly intent on tasting every bit of what you had to offer.

Your eyes widened. "Holy fuck," you removed both your hands from Steven's head and ran them over your face and boobs. He was driving you absolutely insane. If it weren't for his grip on your legs you would be trembling beneath him.

It wasn't long before a second orgasm crept up on you, one more powerful than the last. Your lips parted in a silent scream as your climax washed over your entire body, from your thighs to your feet, to the base of your fucking spine.

Steven couldn't help but stare as he cleaned you up for the last time with his tongue. He couldn't believe he got to see this. To make you feel like this.

Your high subsided soon after and you released a sharp exhale followed by a laugh of disbelief.

Steven moved from his position on his knees before you to hover above you on your bed. "You okay, love?" he questioned in concern

You responded to his question with a satisfied grin. "I'm great, Stevie," you spoke before meeting his lips in a sweet kiss, "But..."

Steven's face fell at your words. He slowly moved from above you to lay next to you, scared to meet your eyes. "I did something wrong didn't I? Or did I forget to do something? I'm sorry-" he rambled, immediately doubting himself.

But his words died in his throat when you turned and caressed his cheek with a hand, your grin still present on your face. "You did nothing wrong," you insisted, "That was no doubt one of the best orgasms of my entire life."

Steven looked away and laughed at your confession. "You don't have to say that to make me feel better."

"I mean it, Steven," your voice grew stern, "That was fucking incredible."

Steven couldn't even formulate a response.

"What I was going to say was," you broke his silence, "I promised you could do bad things to my body and you haven't done nearly enough for me," you ended with a smirk.

Steven grunted when he felt your fingertips run along his cock.

"Don't you want to fuck me, Steven?" you questioned innocently while completely wrapping your hand around and stroking Steven's dick.

He nodded quickly, his bottom lip held between his teeth as he tried not to react to how soft your hand felt around his painfully hard cock. "I do. So badly, love."

You released him and brought a hand over to grab Steven's neck before using your grip to pull him back to his previous position above you. "Then fuck me, Steven. I need you to fuck me," you whispered.

Steven wasted no time in grabbing his length and lining himself up with your entrance. "Are you sure?" he checked in with you once more.

You jerked your hip in the direction of his cock in an effort to fill yourself up but to no avail. You were so damn desperate you didn't care how you sounded. "Yes Steven, please, I need you to fill me up. Fill me up baby, c'mon," you whined hurriedly.

"Well who am I to deny you of what you want, love?" he replied before slowly guiding himself into you.

He immediately groaned at the feeling of your walls squeezing him. "Heavens, love, you're so—aghh—tight," he grunted.

Your moans were never-ending as he sunk into you inch by inch. The stretch was briefly painful but it hurt so good you didn't care.Steven stopped halfway in and leaned down to press a kiss against your forehead. "You're taking me so well, sweetheart," he praised you.

You bit your lip at his praise. "More, Steven, keep going."

Steven obliged and fully sunk into you with one last push. Your moans mixed in the air at the sudden change. "You feel so good inside me Steven, oh my God-" you cried out.

You nearly choked on air when Steven slowly pulled out of your heat before slamming back into you.

"SHIT," you both cursed together before opening your eyes to look at each other.

"Faster, baby, I can take it I promise," you nodded, bringing your hands up to the sides of Steven's face. You even wrapped your legs around Steven's waist.

Steven took a deep breath before pulling out and rutting into you again, now establishing a pace. Which every thrust inside your cunt, Steven grazed your g-spot, effortlessly. It was as if you were built for his cock.

"Fuckin' love the way you fuck me, Steven," you mumbled as Steven set a brutal pace inside you.

Steven leaned down to press his forehead against yours as he continued to fuck you. Your breathing seemed to sync as he pulled out moan after moan from you.

His hands rested at the sides of your head but you could feel them inching closer to your neck.

Your pussy clenched around him at the thought of him choking you. Steven faltered in his thrusts in response. "Love you're squeezing me so hard I don't think I'm gonna last."

"Do it," you called out, tilting your head toward one of his hands.

"What?"

"I can see you thinking about it. Choke me, baby," your chest heaved as you felt your third orgasm of the night approaching.

Steven hesitated for a second before he stopped his thrusts and brought a shaky hand to wrap around your throat.

"I trust you, Steven," you spoke truthfully, "I want this too," you brought a hand to rest over Steven's briefly in reassurance.

Steven began roughly pounding you again with his hand now squeezing around your neck.

"Fuck yes, holy shit," you breathed out, feeling your eyes nearly roll to the back of your head with the newly added feeling of Steven's large hand wrapped around your throat. making you see stars.

Steven, although shocked by your immediate enjoyment of his secret guilty pleasure, took it as a sign to continue. So he trusted faster but made sure to maintain the same amount of pressure on your neck. He then got the idea to use his free hand to reach down and fiddle with your clit while fucking you.

You were instantly thrown over the edge. You came with as best a scream of Steven's name as you could manage with his hand still choking you. Chills ran down your spine while Steven slowed his thrusts inside you and waited for your orgasm to pass.

Eventually, you felt Steven release your neck and slowly begin to remove his cock from your cunt. You tightened your legs around his waist in protest. "Uh uh, we're not stopping till you come inside me, Steven," you demanded.

Steven loved the way you'd been taking control throughout all of this. He'd do anything you asked without a thought. "That's fine with me love," he nodded with a lopsided grin.

"Good," you deeply inhaled before using your hold on his waist to roll him onto his back, with you now straddling him.

You smiled at his shocked expression, which soon morphed into excitement. "You're bloody amazing," he grinned up at you.

You fought the heat that crawled onto your cheeks at his words and looked away with a smile. "Stop sweet talking me and fuck me, Steven."

He nodded quickly, "Yes ma'am." Steven slipped back into your entrance slowly.

But you grew impatient and fully sat down on his cock, loving how full he made you feel. Steven's cries met your ears soon after.

You grabbed his hands and placed each on one of your breasts before beginning to properly ride him. Steven heeded your directions and pawed at your chest while thrusting up to meet your hips.

His grunts soon became whimpers and whines as you rode him harder and faster, eager to make him cum.

"I'm almost there, love," he cried before sitting up and pulling you into his chest. His hands moved down to grip your waist where he guided you faster along his cock.

"There you go, Steven," you held his face against your own as his pace grew sloppy and his brown eyes slid shut.

"Cum for me, baby," you softly spoke with one last grind of your hips. Steven halted inside you with a broken sob of your name and filled you up with his warm release.

You moaned at the feeling of his spend coating your inner walls and leaned down to press a kiss to the top of his head. "You did so good Steven."

"I love you," his eyes finally opened while he panted, looking up at you with vulnerable eyes as if scared that you wouldn't feel the same after what you had just done together.

"I love you too," you replied without hesitation. You gently shoved Steven onto his back and followed suit, laying down on his chest as you gently removed his softening cock from inside you. You felt his hands move to wrap around your body soon after, bringing you further into his body.

Steven was the first to speak after some time. "I think you're the best thing that's happened to me in a really long time," he admitted, turning to look at you, not at all phased by the exhaustion in your features.

You leaned up to meet Steven in a heated kiss. He tightened his hold on you and met your lips with equal fervor. You pulled away reluctantly and looked down at his face with furrowed brows as you used a hand to trace his jaw and swollen lips. "Where have you been hiding my entire life, Steven Grant?"

"Haven't been hiding, love. I've just been here waiting for you."

° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

WHEW! This ABSOLUTELY got away from me holy shit. 6k words? yeah, not the plan at all. But hey it's definitely something considering that I haven't been able to sit down and write anything till tonight.

So I really do hope you enjoyed it.

(Lemme go look back through my requests and see what else I can cook up.)

#steven grant smut #moon knight smut #smut #fluff #marvel #imagine #oneshot #steven grant #moon boys #moon knight x reader #steven grant x you #steven grant x reader #moon knight fic #moon knight #oscar issac smut #oscar isaac #oscar isaac x reader #marvel fanfiction #fanfiction

[enluv]

bewitched

pairing: anton x mentioned gn reader! (pls lmk if there are any gendered terms I may have missed)

synopsis: in which anton has a not so tiny actually really big crush on reader.

genre: fluff that made me smile to myself so hard that I had to remind myself this was just a fic, idol!anton & idol!reader, angst if you squint, pouty anton & his hyungs love to tease him for it!

coco’s <3 note: this was something I wrote up after a really long day of studying for finals last week so if you hate it lie to me (I’m sensitive) and it’s completely self indulgent 😭 + not edited well…

small but important a/n: I am so happy people love this fic as much as I do but I unfortunately will not be making a part two for it! originally I didn’t plan one and still in my heart feel like it doesn’t really need one!! sorry my loves, ty for the understanding 🤍

anton who smiles to himself as he watches you do his groups dance challenge, he’s seen you backstage countless times now with your group and he swears you’re his soulmate.

loud and energetic, your personality compliments his usually timid and introverted one.

the first one to notice is seunghan, always the one with the keenest eye, he teases anton throughly when you walk past them in the music show halls, pushing his shoulders and tugging at the boys pink cheeks.

the next two to notice are wonbin and shotaro, having caught their youngest replaying your groups music video just after briefly being introduced to you, he claims it’s so he can learn your dance challenge but the boys can tell from the way his voice raises an octave, that he’s lying.

eunseok and sungchan take note as they watch his eyes sparkle up at the screen in their room backstage, there’s no hiding the proud smile he wears as he watches you move about on stage smiling and enjoying the time you have with fans, they can see just how much he admires you.

sohee is the last to know as he walks right up to you, laughing and joking like old friends do, anton goes through the five stages of grief so quickly the rest of the members laugh loudly at him.

first, he denies what’s taking place in front of his eyes, he can’t fathom how you know his friend, or why you two seem so close.

second, he’s angry. not at sohee or you, never you of course, but at himself for not seeing the obvious signs. you’d done their dance because you knew his friend, not just because you were interested in him them.

third, anton tries rationalizing with himself. this was okay, it’d be okay, and if you ended up with sohee it would be fine because technically he’d never admitted to liking you, and so technically you weren’t anyone to him, so really if he thought about it, he’d be fine, especially if you made his best friend happy.

fourth, he’s pouting, and not even on purpose in a cute way, he’s full on pouting at the scene taking place in front of him. he’s sad you’re so close to sohee, sad he isn’t the one making you laugh loudly or putting a smile on your face, sad that he has absolutely no chance with you at all. this isn’t fair, but he can’t do anything so he resorts to pouting and clinging onto his older brothers for comfort (as they laugh and tease his current state).

finally, anton thinks he’s over it. he’s been watching you and sohee giggle about back and forth for what seems like hours now (it’s been less than five minutes) and he thinks he can finally accept this reality. you’re into his friend and he’s chopped liver. yeah that’s totally fine, he’s totally okay with this outcome.

the older boys smile at one another as they watch anton bury his head deeper into eunseoks broad shoulders, seemingly shielding himself from the scene in front of him. they know when their maknae is upset and it’s a million times clear just how much he is right now.

“anton, are you okay? I want to introduce you to my friend.” sohee’s soft voice pulls him out of his depression, slowly rising his head he’s met with a pair of eyes he knows too well, and his ears turn red.

“this is my roommate, he’s the one I told you about, the one that’s a big fan of you,” his friend laughs after his words and anton isn’t sure what’s worse: you being madly in love with sohee or you knowing he’s madly in love with you.

“anton right? I’m also a big fan of you, if that’s not totally embarrassing to admit to you.”

and just like that he’s swooning again, all the thoughts and feelings from before melt away as he pushes past eunseok to stand in front of you. now this, this is just perfect.

sohee shoots him a smile and a thumbs up, and it all clicks, anton is almost ashamed of how he’s acted.

sohee knew about his crush, how could he not? they shared a room together, of course he’d caught him watching your content, laughing at things you’d said, and bashfully liking your pictures from his spam account, he’d done this on purpose, he’d introduce you to one another on purpose.

“do you want to maybe grab some lunch with me?”

so maybe that wasn’t what he’d planned to say to you first but at least he’d spoken…right? even if it was straightforward and not like him at all.

your laugh makes his ears even redder, and he’s instantly smiling as you nod, taking his hand and leading him to “a really good cafe” as you put it. anton isn’t listening fully, he’s just happy he can finally admire you in person.

yeah he’s definitely too far gone. he thinks he might be in love.

coco’s <3 note x2: I love love love writing for riize they’re honestly my favorite boys ahhh I love them!! hopefully now that I am on break I can write more for them :) thinking of opening requests for them too maybe? and like if you know me you know I don’t do that often so !!! hope you enjoyed this fic, feedback & reblogs are always appreciated <3

riize taglist — @palajae @txtlyn @rllymark @soheekisser @luvbinnies (can’t tag those in bold 😕)

Want to join the taglist? Find the forms here!

#౨ৎ.riize #kflixnet #k labels #bjnet #blueasia #riize #riize anton #anton lee #riize angst #riize fluff #riize chanyoung #riize drabbles #riize fics #riize fanfiction #riize headcanons #riize imagines #riize oneshots #riize scenarios #riize soft hours #riize x reader #riize x you #riize x imagine #anton fluff #anton drabble #anton fic #anton fanfic #anton imagines #anton riize #anton x reader #anton x gn reader

[luvjunie]

— Unforgettable ( 3 )

part one • part two • part three • part four • part five

pairing: e-1610!miles x fem!reader

contains: sooo much fluff, plot progression, a glimpse into reader and miles’ relationship, the moment we’ve all been waiting for 🤭, and another itty bitty plot twist

summary: a bump in with a certain boy at the bodega threatens to ruin your previously perfect afternoon until he offers to fix it. you assumed things would end there, and then you ran into him again. wc: 3,254

a/n: i know y’all ain’t think i forgot about this series!!! but here’s a long chapter as an apology since i made y’all wait so long </3 also did i say an ‘itty bitty’ plot twist? cause i be lying. recap of part two is in small italics!

prev | next

“You had her approval as soon as you called her Mrs. Morales.”

Your head tilted in question, eyes panning to the ceiling in thought. “Isn’t that normal? Calling someone’s parent by their last name?”

A comfortable silence settled, just for a moment.

“You’d think so.” A smile curled Miles’ lips, the memory of when he’d introduced the first girl he’d ever liked to his parents flashing into his mind; his interest in tossing the ball paused momentarily as images from the past flooded his thoughts.

Wait… Why was he thinking about her?

. . .

“Miles?”

“Milesss?”

“Huh?” Miles blinked quickly as he brought himself back to the present, his slightly startled gaze landing on your puzzled expression.

“Earth to Morales?” Your tone leaked with a playfulness as you quirked a brow at him. “Did you hear a word I just said?”

“Nah, sorry,” Miles cleared his throat, then scratched his forehead with a laugh he hoped didn’t sound too awkward. “Just spaced out for a sec. What’d you say?”

“I saiddd,” Laying on your stomach as your thumbs twiddled along the screen of your phone, you sent a quick text before you continued. “—It’s getting kinda late, and if I’m not home in the next thirty minutes my Grandma will alert the entire police force over my absence.” you chuckled, the perpetual buzzes of replies sounding from your phone only furthering your point.

“Oh— Yeah, you’re right. My bad, I didn’t even realize.” Miles stood and grabbed his coat from the hook off his closet door before he turned towards you with a warm grin.

“C’mon, I’ll walk you home.”

—

Miles had been staring at his ceiling ever since he got back home, headphones blasting music over his ears to drown out the inevitable. For what seemed like hours, and for what probably was, he was trapped in an endless rumination he didn’t want to be a part of.

The grace his weekend temporarily granted him had unfortunately come to an end, and before he knew it, there was a knock on his bedroom door that reminded him of the upcoming drive him and his dad had to make back to Visions.

—

“Dude, this is so stupid. My head is about to explode from all this thinking.” Clad in a wifebeater and plaid boxers as he laid on the top bunk, Miles whined out what had only been his hundredth complaint in the span of fifteen minutes.

“And I can’t find my bonnet!”

Miles’ voice was muffled by the fluff of his pillow, the same pillow that was clutched tightly and caged between his arms as an effort to cling onto the last bit of his sanity. Also the same pillow that’d gone flat nearly two months ago. How convenient.

He thought talking Ganke’s ear off about all his feelings would help sort through his thoughts, but it did the exact opposite. Miles’ feelings for you were growing, that was an undeniable fact, so he still couldn’t figure out why after an entire year, Gwen was still on his mind. Why couldn’t he just forget about her?

“I really like this girl, man. Like, really, really like her. Like, Sunflower ain’t got shit on this girl, like her.” Miles blinked, astonished at his own words as he carried on, “Like, I offered to walk her home instead of having my mom drive her, like her—“

“Bro— Bro. I get it,” Ganke interrupted.

“I didn’t even know I could feel like this for someone else!” Pulling himself into a seated position, Miles let his legs dangle over the side of the bed. “I mean, I even let her meet my parents. You know how I am about that!” He exclaimed, arms outstretched as if they would help him present his case better. Ganke, in fact, did not know how he was about that.

“That obviously means I’m over Gwen! Right?”

No answer.

“Right?”

“I dunno, dude! Now you see why I don’t even bother dealing with that kind’a junk. It’s confusing as hell. “ Ganke’s eyes darted from side to side as they tracked the video game on his PC’s monitor, tongue poking at his lip in intense concentration. His half-baked advice to Miles was as much as he could muster without losing focus on his Call of Duty mission. “That’s love for you, man.”

Miles’ eyes went wide and his heart began to race. “Woah woah woah— I ain’t say anything about love!” Technically, he did, just in different words.

With a weighted sigh the controller plunked out of Ganke’s hands and down onto the desk, ‘MISSION FAILED’ flashing in bold onto the screen.

“Alright, look,” Ganke spun around in his chair and glanced up at the top bunk. “If you like this girl as much as you say you do, why don’t you just go for it? What’s stopping you? A girl who’s not even here anymore?” he scoffed. “Quit dwelling on the past and look at what’s right in front of you. You know, someone who’s actually in this universe.”

Miles sat with pursed lips as he stared down at his open palms, treading in the water of his thoughts.

“You know what,” Head raising, he looked to his roommate with a newfound determination. “You’re right, Ganke. Starting tonight, I’m done thinking about the past.” Miles nodded.

“Great, now either let me get back to my mission in peace, or grab a damn controller and help me.”

Ganke was right. Gwen’s gone, and she wasn’t coming back. It’s not even possible.

Miles let the conclusion settle within him as he dug around in the junk drawer for the spare controller.

It’s time for him to move on.

—

As you relaxed on your back in the room you’d been in more times than you could even remember at this point, head idly bopping to an album by Tears for Fears, you thought back to the time before you knew Miles. And even though you hadn’t known him for nearly as long as you’d known yourself— maybe just caught up in the whirlwind of something new and exciting, or him in general— you couldn’t help but feel as if his presence had been missing from your life this entire time.

Spending the day with him had become as normal as breathing to you. His space had become your space (his words), and it rang true as you hummed along to the tune echoing from the record player on his desk.

“Help me to decide. Help me make the most of freedom, and of pleasure. Nothing ever lasts forever…”

The song ‘Everybody Wants to Rule the World’ wrapped you snug in a warm sense of nostalgia, it having been one of your favorites since middle school. And paired with being around your favorite person— you were sure you never wanted to leave this moment. You smiled to yourself at the upside down image you had of Miles as you let your head hang over the side of his bed, the beads on the ends of your braids clinking against his wooden floors when your head tilted with a new found query.

“Miles,”

He hummed, but it wasn’t the kind that sounded as if you’d interrupted him, or as if he were annoyed. It was the kind that let you know he was interested in whatever you wanted to tell him, and that you had his attention even if his eyes weren’t on you.

“Okay, bear with me here. And answer carefully, because this kind of decides the type of person you are and whether I’ll even speak to you afterwards.”

“Wait, what is it?” He quickly looked up at you—upside down you, at least— with concerned eyes and you struggled to hide your grin.

“What color do you think science is?”

“Are you serious?” He deadpanned.

Your brow raise was his answer.

“Green, obviously.”

“Interesting choice. Why green?”

Miles shrugged, “Cause of the environment. Plants are green. And when I think of plants, I think of photosynthesis. Photosynthesis, equals science. Therefore,” pen in hand, he made a ‘viola’ gesture. “Green.”

“Mm,” You scrunched your nose, eyes panning back to the ceiling. “I guess I can see that.”

“And math is blue.” He tacked on.

“Blue!?” You balked, flipping over onto your stomach so his face was right side-up now. “Math? Blue? Are you deadass?”

“As dead as ass can be.” Miles quipped with a snort and continued to scribble away at the page he’d been sketching on for the last half hour.

“History is blue, not math!” You scoffed.

“Alright Y/n, what other color would math be then?” He asked incredulously.

“Red, duh.”

“Red?” He repeated breathlessly. “Why would math be red?”

“Well,” you started, “Math makes me angry. And when I think about anger, I think about the color red, just like everybody else does. And I hate red, just like I hate math. Numbers and letters do not belong together, just like pineapple on pizza. Therefore,” you mimicked his previous gesture to the air with a confident grin. “Red.”

“Pineapple— Numbers… What?” Miles blinked at you with both disbelief and confusion, the corners of his mouth threatening to expose his amusement as they lifted. “That’s it? That’s your grand explanation?”

“Mm-hm.” You hummed proudly, chin perched in both your hands.

Miles shook his head as his smile finally made itself known, dimples and all the moment your lashes batted at him.

“Not gon’ lie to you, that sounded like a whole bunch’a bullshit.” He laughed at your fake offended expression.

One of Miles’ favorite things about you was how you always seemed to ramble about everything, and nothing at the same time. He thought it was adorable.

“Well, the math part I understand, I guess.” he shrugged. “But you can’t possibly hate the color red all that much.”

Your brows furrowed at him, “What makes you say that?”

“Cause,” Miles turned his sketchbook towards you, the drawing he’d been working on this entire time revealed to be a moment he’d caught of you, gazing up at his ceiling just the way you were a moment ago. “Look.”

You nearly felt your heart stop as you took in what was in front of you. All this time while you were in your own world, singing along to whatever song came and went, he’d been focused solely on you. You dragged your eyes up from the paper so they’d meet his, your calves swiftly tucking under your thighs when you rushed to sit up in a straighter position.

“I—Is that me?” You blabbed out before you could think.

“Nah, it’s Boo-Boo the fool.” Miles huffed out a laugh. “Yes, it’s you dummy.”

Gentle strokes of red to the thin paper framed your face and lips, the attention to detail he used brought your eyes to life on the page, and he’d even managed to capture the beads on the bottom of your braids, too.

“How the hell did you do that?”

He shrugged shyly and turned his artwork to face him once more, studying the page as if he hadn’t been doing just that all this time. His heart was beginning to race faster than he’d originally predicted, and he wondered if he should’ve shown you.

“It’s kind of muscle memory at this point.”

Miles heard the words that came out of his own mouth, and you did too, but it was like the both of you comprehended exactly what he’d said at the same time.

“Don’t—“ He tried, but it was too late, you were already gushing, and he was already blushing.

“Awwwww!”

“Please—“

“Milessss!” you teased, ignoring his plea.

“Stop it.” Flustered, he shielded a smile behind his hand and tried to look anywhere else but your face.

“You’re so cute when you blush.”

—

Things were beyond easy with Miles.

The two of you never ran out of things to talk about and he always matched your energy, as if he were the other half of you.

There were no awkward moments, or pressure towards the other about making a move, because deep down you both knew what this was, and that everything would fall into place with time.

It was apparent in the way he looked at you, in how perfectly you fit in his arms when he hugged you goodbye, and how you always relaxed in his embrace when he would hold onto you just a bit longer.

Your first date went perfectly. Well, not really, but that’s what made it even better.

An ominous ‘be ready in 20 mins’ text to your phone and about a half hour later, Miles popped up at your door, pink tulips in hand and a smile big enough to match his signature jacket.

The two of you decided to catch a movie after a short train ride to the theater, and he let you pick. Horror being one of your favorite genres, that’s what you went with, and like everything else that came with you, Miles agreed.

But just thirteen minutes in at one of the simplest jumpscares (if you could even call it one), Miles let out a scream belonging on one of the highest vocal registers your ears had ever heard, and it sent you into such an uncontrollable fit of laughter that you ended up accidentally spilling your fresh popcorn all over the floor.

Miles’ ego wasn’t nearly big enough for him to remain embarrassed once the tears started rolling from your eyes, and eventually, the laughter he tried to stifle made itself known to everyone sitting around you. And when you say everyone, you mean everyone.

It only took two minutes of you guys cackling and snorting before the both of you were asked to leave, and you had no idea how you made it out of the theater with how hard your stomachs were cramping.

—

Sure, the movie hadn’t gone quite as planned, but you didn’t mind and neither did he. As long as you both were in each other’s company, you wouldn’t mind watching paint dry.

The blue hue of the night had long enveloped the city, and as you and Miles sat up on the roof of his apartment, the dimmed fairy lights twinkling in the darkness from where they were strung across the perimeter, you made a mental note to study up on the movie you told your Grandma you were staying out late to see.

You leaned into Miles and rested your head on his shoulder, knees pulling to your chest as you exhaled softly.

“You cold?”

Far from it, actually.

A perpetual breeze prompted your bodies to curl into each other more, though goosebumps and chattering teeth were nowhere in sight, only fingers secretly inching closer and hearts growing fonder.

“I should be asking you, I’m wearing your jacket.” you joked.

“Nah,” he chuckled. “I’m alright.”

The silence was comfortable. You didn’t want to go home just yet and Miles wasn’t ready to say goodbye for the night, so you stayed.

This had become a new norm for the two of you, so much so that this was pretty much how all your hangouts ended. You’d stay just a little longer, and then he’d take you home. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but for some weird reason you always felt much safer when you were with Miles, like he’d be able to protect you if anything were to happen when the two of you were together.

“Y/n?”

“Hm?”

“Have you ever been in love before?”

Miles’ voice was quiet, nearly drowned out from the lively sounds of the city around you. You were surprised you even heard it.

You swallowed, and it took so much effort to form your lips around the simple word you answered with. “W-what?”

He cleared his throat as his posture straightened slightly. “Like, do you know what love is? Is what I mean...” He clarified quickly, mentally cursing himself for how badly he worded things, even if it’s what he meant. He didn’t even know if you felt the same.

You lifted your head from his shoulder, prompting his own to turn towards you, but you didn’t meet his eyes. You settled for toying with the sleeve of his jacket as your heart began to thrum a little faster.

Nibbling at the inside of your lip, you inhaled quietly before answering. “When they’re the first person your mind thinks of when you hear the word ‘love’. Or maybe when the thought of them gets you out of bed in the morning instead of your alarm clock. You know when you know, basically. That’s what I was taught, and I think it checks out.” you glanced over at him, and he felt like time stopped when your eyes locked.

“Do you?” you asked.

“H-Huh?” Miles was enthralled with how pretty you looked, and how your features were perfectly illuminated by the gentle glow of the city lights, so much so that he could hardly think straight.

Rolling your eyes and suppressing a giggle, you shook your head at him. “—Do you know what love is, dummy.”

“Not exactly— uh, I don’t think so, no.” Miles’ jaw tensed and his gaze met yours once more. The twinkle in your eyes temporarily dimming due to the fear of this all being in your head.

“Oh.” you murmured.

“But I think I know what it feels like.” He said softly.

“Really?”

Lips parting slightly for a shaky breath to pass, Miles nodded. “Positive.”

Your eyes fell down to his lips almost immediately, then lifted back up to see that his had done the same to yours.

“Well… What does it feel like?”

The question left your mouth long before you could’ve thought to stop it, yet regret was the last thing you felt. What you were feeling was something entirely different.

Your faces grew closer until your noses brushed against each others, a second spared as a chance for either of you to bail on what you both knew was bound to happen in a matter of time.

He leaned in and you let him— let your arms curl around his neck and his around your waist so your lips could meet faster. Let your lips move against each other’s because it felt right, because that’s what you knew love to be. Letting something happen because it felt right.

He felt right.

Miles pulled away, but barely, his breath warm against your lips. “Come to my parent’s party tomorrow?” He blurted.

Hands holding the back of his neck, you blinked yourself out of your daze, brows furrowed. “What?”

“My dad, they’re making him police captain. We’re celebrating tomorrow, here, and I want you to come.” Miles licked his lips. “Well I— I was gonna invite you anyway. But now I really want you to come. And I wanted you to come before this happened, obviously—“

“I’d love to.” You smiled, and let him pull you back into him the second you’d given your answer.

—

Miles remembered what it was like to be so head over heels in love with someone that it consumed him entirely. How it corrupted his days and fogged his mind with nothing but the thought of them, and he could feel himself slipping back into it again, but this time, with you. And if he were being honest, it kind of scared him, how quickly you’d claimed his heart.

But what he did know was that you liked him, and he liked you. He’ll admit, he didn’t expect his feelings for you to develop as fast as they did, for them to hit him as hard as they had. But he was past that now. Tomorrow was going to be special, and not just for his family, but for the two of you. He was finally going to take the leap he’d been too scared to make before tonight.

You were the perfect girl, that he was sure of. And who’d be dumb enough to not accept perfect when it was right in front of them?

He wanted this. He wanted you.

But any chance for another sensical thought was interrupted when the impossible happened.

‘Impossible’, being the multi-layered hexagonal portal that suddenly opened up on his ceiling, and the blonde-haired, gap-toothed girl he thought he’d never see again, appearing with it.

Bright and beaming down at him with a heart-halting grin, Miles felt his stomach drop as soon as she spoke.

“Miles!”

Shit.

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#junie’s works ᥫ᭡ #across the spiderverse fanfiction #miles morales x reader #miles morales fluff #miles morales fanfiction #miles morales fic #miles morales x you #earth 1610 miles x you #earth 1610 miles x reader #miles morales x black reader #miles morales x black!reader #earth 1610 miles morales x reader #1610 miles x reader

[stvharrngton]

three or four times

a/n: my weaknesses are titles and endings so I apologise if they are horrible ghsjdjdj. the more I read this the more I dislike it but I just couldn’t leave it unfinished

pairing: steve harrington x henderson!fem reader

word count: 2.2k

warnings: enemies to lovers sorta, a little angsty, swearing, steve pining asf

prompt: “last time i checked, you guys were at each others' throats. how come you're sending heart eyes every time you see her now?"

requests are open!

The first time Steve thought you were pretty was in high school. You a year younger, leaning against your locker books held close to your chest, talking to another girl from your year - someone from Steve’s history class he was sure.

The way the pink skirt you wore hugged your waist, teased at your thighs, the clean frilly white socks a stark contrast to your dirty Converse. You giggled with your friend as you tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. Steve was gone right there and then, your laugh intoxicating - the way your lips reached your cheeks sending a pang right to his heart.

I’m in love, Steve thought.

He sauntered past you and your friend - Rachel, maybe? Nah. A smirk plastered on his face, his hand raised so he could wiggle his fingers at you in greeting, his left eye closing in a wink. Tommy H and his friends hollering in a trail after him, clasping him on the shoulder.

I hate Steve Harrington, you thought. And his dickbag friends.

The second time Steve thought you were pretty was during the fall of 1984. Your younger brother having claimed Steve as his sidekick for whatever problem he was trying to solve. You rolled your eyes at the notion of Dustin being involved with Steve, claiming he was an asshole.

But as you ended up with your brother, Max and Lucas and unfortunately, Steve, at the junkyard trapped in the broken down bus your irritation subsided for fear. You shielded the kids behind you whilst you watched Steve cling onto his studded bat - ready to swing.

Once the Demodogs had scampered off and the coast was clear, he turned to you and the kids. All charming smile and smugness complete with that damn wink again. You rolled your eyes at the gesture.

“Knock it off, Harrington,” you scoffed, “let’s go.”

Arms crossing over your chest hugging yourself as you all began the long walk home, attempting to provide a slither of comfort to your cold body. Eyes trained on Lucas and Max bickering in front of you, Steve and Dustin lingering behind you. 

Steve couldn’t stop staring. Granted, it was dark and he was staring at the back of your head but his eyes were glued to your figure. When you turned your head to check on Dustin he caught a glimpse of your face.

Cheeks pink and the tip of your nose tinted red, eyes glassy and your hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, two curly strands framing either side of your face. Steve’s brow furrowing at the thought of you being cold; wanting to wrap you up in the biggest blanket he owned. You were cute, Steve thought. So very cute.

When you finally made it back to your house, you sped up to your front door ready to be greeted by the warmth of the inside, Dustin held Steve back - his arm falling back against his stomach to stop him.

A glance at you before he turned to the older boy next to him, “What’s going on with you?” Dustin whispered.

“What?” his eyes fell over to you, watching you dig in your pockets for your key, “What are you talkin’ about?”

“Don’t play dumb with me! I’ve seen you ogling her all day!”

Steve scoffed, “Your sister? Henderson I-“

“You’ve been making googly eyes at her all day, Steve! Whatever this is,” Dustin mocked, fingers drawing imaginary lines between you and Steve, “stop it. She’s off limits.”

Finally fishing the key from your jacket pocket, you turned it in the lock, your brows joining together at the sight of Steve and Dustin having some sort of agitated conversation, “Dustin! Move your ass, come on.” you whisper-shouted into the night.

“Coming!” Dustin called out to you, rushing his way over to your house, not before he turned back to Steve, “Off. Limits.” he stated, gesturing back to you.

Steve could only hold his hands up in defeat, waving you both inside your house before beginning the walk down the street to his own. It was then that Steve Harrington forced himself to hate you for the sake of your meddling little brother.

The third time Steve thought you were pretty was the beginning of summer ‘85. The thick Indiana air hot and sticky, all busy days at the local pool and cherry slushies. Steve managed to get a job at the new Starcourt mall - Scoops Ahoy ice cream parlour complete with the uniform of a sailor.

Unfortunately for Steve that job came with a co-worker, that co-worker being your best friend, Robin. Making your appearances at Scoops reoccurring and making Steve’s situation ten times harder than it already was.

As if on cue, you sauntered into the ice cream shop making a beeline for the counter and Steve couldn’t help but stare, cloth wiping the counter in circular motion on automatic. You looked pretty, so pretty, no, beautiful actually. High-waisted denim shorts pulled in at your waist with a cute red belt, tight black t-shirt donning the logo of the clothing store you worked at hugging your chest, finished with your red-rimmed sunglasses in the shape of hearts perched on top of your head, freckles sprayed across your face.

Your soft pudgy thighs on show for everyone to see and it drove him crazy, you did it on purpose, he swore. You dinged the bell on the counter obnoxiously, snapping the boy back to reality.

Steve scrambled to look natural, like he wasn’t so obviously staring at you.

“Nice get up, Harrington.” you teased, an outstretched finger pointing to his outfit.

He rolled his eyes at you, “Can I suggest you get some new jokes?” scooper in hand, ready, “The usual, Henderson?”

“And can I suggest you become less of an asshole?” you said, “but yes, please.”

The boy scoffed at you, “Sure, anything for you.”

It was your turn to roll your eyes now, slapping your dollar bills down on the counter and snatching the small cup of mint choc chip from Steve. 

“You’re welcome!” he shouted after you as you went to sit at your usual booth to wait for Robin. You didn’t mean to be such a brat but you couldn’t help it; Steve just irritated you. It’s not like you didn’t want to get along with him, but he was just unnecessarily mean lately so you gave it back as good as you got.

Storming through to the back Steve slumped into one of the chairs in the break room, hards carding through his hair in pure frustration. He sighed, calling out to his co-worker, “Robin! That piece of work you call a best friend is out there waiting for you!”

“Have you tried, I don't know, actually talking to her instead of bickering all the time?” Robin pondered, “I think you would actually get along great.” A scowl her only response.

Robin left Steve in the break room wondering if there was any chance that you felt the same and why the hell he was letting your little brother control his love life.

Present day and Steve was head over heels, he was convinced.

You could only grimace when Dustin invited you over to Steve’s place - an afternoon by the pool in his backyard where he would be shirtless? Awful, you thought. But your brother insisted he needed a ride and that Robin would be there and so you reluctantly agreed. 

Steve could only gawp when you arrived, Dustin in tow. Tiny shorts that barely covered your ass, red strap of your bikini top peaking beneath your shirt as it hung off your shoulder. 

Sweet brown eyes trained on you all day from behind his signature black RayBans, Steve was sure if anyone could see his pupils they would be blown, full of affection for someone he could never have. A soft smile plastered all over his face as he watched you giggle with your brother and his friends, as you lathered yourself in suncream, kicking himself when he didn’t offer to help when you couldn’t quite reach your back.

Steve sat at the edge of the pool, long legs dangling in the cool of the water. Palms pressed into the flat of the grass, head back letting the sun kiss all of his moles and freckles in the way he wished you would. A nudge to his knee brought his gaze back down to the culprit.

“Last time I checked, you guys were at each others’ throats. How come you’re sending heart eyes every time you see her now?” Robin questioned, eyes looking up at Steve before glancing back at you on the sun lounger.

Fuck. He tried not to be obvious, thought the sunglasses would shield his eyes from everyone else. That they would hide the way his gaze lingered a little too long on the cherry red bikini you wore, how the barely there ties were high on your hips, how you looked so damn pretty.

“I literally have no idea what you’re talkin’ about, Robin.” 

Robin simply chuckled at the boy, “Sure, Stevie. Do you like her?”

A sigh, a shrug. Steve really couldn’t be bothered to have this conversation with his co-worker turned best friend right now. Especially when you were here looking like that by his pool.

As the afternoon turned into evening, the energy of the group simmered down a little. The kids moving inside to devour and pick at the pizza and snacks provided. Steve watched you from his kitchen - beer in hand as your feet curled into the grass beneath. A shit mumbled from his lips, he made his way outside to you, sitting on the lounger next to yours.

“Hey,” he whispered, “how come you’re outside by yourself?”

Never looking at him, you shrugged, “I like the quiet.”

Steve watched through his lashes as you sipped your beer, lips turned down, no sparkle in your eyes. You looked sad. All he could muster was a nod in reply.

Your tongue clicked against your teeth, you turned to Steve now, “Why do you hate me, Steve?” you paused, eyes glassy as they bore into his dark brown ones.

His brows furrowed together at your question, “Hate you? I don’t hate you, what makes you say that?” he feigned ignorance.

You shrugged, the label on your beer bottle becoming more interesting. “Dunno, I just- you’re so mean sometimes.”

Steve’s heart shattered into pieces, he was sure, like you reached right into his chest and stomped all over it. If only you knew how he really felt.

“I don't-” he stammered, looking for some sort of reason to give you, like you had just caught him in headlights, “I can’t, you just have to believe me, sweetheart. I don’t want to be mean.” 

The endearing term all but stopped you in your tracks. You sniffled, bleary eyes narrowing questioning what he was saying, “What do you mean?”

Shit. Shit, shit, fuck. Well, it was now or never, Steve thought.

“It was Dustin.” Steve hushed, like he almost didn’t want to nark on your little brother. Like he didn’t want to admit he let a 14 year old have a say in his love life.

“Dustin?!” you screeched, “What do you mean, Dustin?” Arms flailing into your lap.

“I- he said you were off limits, that I couldn’t, that we couldn't..” he trailed off, “so I thought it might be easier this way, I wouldn’t fall hopelessly in love but I was so wrong.”

“Steve,” you whined, “why on Earth would you listen to that little shithead?”

The boy chuckled, fingers tugging at his brown locks, shrugging, “He was just trying to protect you, I kinda admired it.” he paused, contemplating what to say next, “And I don’t exactly have the best track record,” his gaze flicked down to the ground now, “I know you thought I was an asshole in high school.”

You rolled your eyes now, “That was high school, Steve. It’s not like you’re the King of Hawkins High anymore, right?” you said, hopeful.

A breathy laugh left his lips as he nodded, his eye trained on you as he watched you stand and sit yourself next to him on the lounger. Knees knocking and shoulders brushing.

“Did you mean it?” you asked.

“Hm?” he looked up at you with confusion.

“What you said,” a smile toying on your lips, eyelashes fluttering up at the boy, “that you were hopelessly in love with me?”

A blush crept across his cheeks, heat prickling the back of his neck but he grinned at you nonetheless, “Yeah, yeah I did.”

Steve laced his fingers with your own then, the foreign feeling welcome and comforting. A touch that said I'm here and I'll take whatever you're willing to give me. Steve’s gaze fell to your lips, plump and inviting, before climbing back to your eyes. 

You shifted next to him, your free hand came to sit on top of his thigh as you inched ever closer. Then Steve’s lips were on yours. It was soft and slow, the dim taste of warm beer and his strawberry chapstick crowding your senses. You sighed into the kiss, Steve licking into you all pretty, like he had been wanting to do this for a long, long time.

His hand came to cup your cheek, thumb soothing the pink of your sunburn as you broke the kiss. Chest heaving and Steve's forehead resting against your own. Eyes dreamy and thick with honey, nothing but pure adoration washing over his features.

You both burst into a fit of giggles, eyes lighting up like the stars in the night sky. Giddy and full of excitement.

“Good to know.” 

#steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x henderson reader #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fanfiction #I had the ending pictured and planned so clear so we had to get there somehow fellas #don't know what I think of this but yeah he we go I guess #k.fic #the henderson reader trope really has me in a chokehold

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the fire

lilac, chapter eight

a/n: hehehhehehehehheheh (but in a smutty way)

summary: “I can light the fire if you’d like.” 

warnings: lumberjack!frank castle x reader, smut, lumberjack AU, past domestic violence, crazy ex trope, renovating an inn, only one bed, fireplace sex, kissing, dry humping, size kink, crying during sex, dirty talk, pussyjob, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (because this is just porn. no one is getting pregnant, I'm just craving the intimacy. let them be hoes and live out the fantasy)

word count: 3076

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Tossing and turning one last time on the couch, you finally gave up with a gentle sigh. At least you’d gotten an hour or two before you stirred from your light slumber, the butterflies still fluttering in your stomach dooming you to lay here on the sofa till the sun came up. 

Getting up, you wrapped the woolly blanket around your frame, the borrowed shirt barely coming down to cover up your bum, and tip-toed over towards the small kitchenette. Careful not to turn on the tap too forcefully, the slow trickle took a while to fill up the glass you’d acquired after peeking through a few of the cupboards. 

With one hand clutching the blanket that swaddled you, the other one that held the glass gently turned the water off before raising the drink up towards your lips to soothe your dry throat. 

Hearing the floorboards behind you suddenly creak, you quickly spun around and discovered the source to naturally be none other than the person who lived here, “Pete! I mean, Frank! H-hi,” he stepped a bit closer, consequently letting the moonlight bathe across his form, the jaw-dropping vision, unfortunately, causing the drink to slip out of your butterfingers, harshly shattering against the floor and sending a tiny wave of water crashing onto your toes. He was wearing a pair of sweatpants and that was it, just the relaxed grey fabric clinging dangerously low on his hips. Ripping your now wide eyes away from his bare and burly chest, you forced your vision down to meet the shards at your feet, “oh, shit…” 

Bending down to clean it up, it didn’t take long before another pair of hands also began to carefully pick up the pieces.

“Sorry, I frightened you.”

“No, no, you didn’t, I’m sorry, I’m just a clutz,” you avoided his gaze as you straightened back up, following his lead as he tossed the broken glass into the sink, “and I’m sorry about waking you, I thought I was being quiet, but–”

“You didn’t wake me, don’t worry.”

Wiping your damp hands dry on the blanket still hanging from your shoulders, you finally met his gaze, “well, then I’m sorry about breaking your glass.” 

“It’s just a glass,” he uttered earnestly, faintly shaking his head, “you can’t sleep?” 

“I could, for a little bit at least, but uh, no,” you wrapped the blanket tighter around your form, one of your palms coming to rub your upper arm over it, hoping that the friction might combat the middle of the night chill you couldn’t seem to shake.

“Are you cold?” he noticed, and your hand subsequently froze in its subconscious movements. 

“A bit, but I’m okay.”

“I can light the fire if you’d like,” he gestured back to the hearth located beside your makeshift sleeping arrangement.

“Oh,” your eyebrows gently shot up at his kindness, “uh, sure, if it’s not too much trouble.” 

Your eyes couldn’t help but be glued to his frame as he soon ignited the fire, his broad back turned to you as you slowly sank down onto the rug at the foot of the couch, melting back against the bottom of it as your mind floated away to sinful places. 

“There,” he sat down the box of matches and leaned back a bit to regard the flame taking a hold, “that should do it.”

As he scooted back to join you on the floor, eyes fast on the fire while yours were still fixated on him, you soon heard your voice pipe up, “hey Frank? Can I ask you something?” to which he simply hummed in confirmation, “that thing you told me last night, when you said that you did some stuff…”

A slow nod stirred his head, “yeah…”

“What were they? Was it something bad? Something illegal? Are you some criminal on the run?” you added half-jokingly, “should I be worried about, I don’t know, the FBI or someone bursting through those doors at any time?” 

Staring back into the crackling flame, he simply offered a gentle shake of his head, “no.” 

“No?” you cocked your head, leaning forward a bit to catch his distant gaze. 

Finding your eyes, he then repeated steadily, “no.”

“Is that all?” a nervous chuckle bubbled out past your lips, “no?”

Sucking in a sharp inhale, he said, “for now, yeah.” 

Gazing back at him, a gentle smile eventually warmed your features, “alright.” 

“I wanna tell you,” he stressed, breathing deep as he averted his soulful eyes, “I wanna share everything with you, I just–… not yet…”

Seizing his hand, you gave it a soft squeeze, “it’s okay, I don’t want you to tell me anything you’re not comfortable with.” 

Blinking back at you again, you then watched as his spine slowly relaxed back against the base of the sofa, eyes eventually flickering back towards the fireplace as his fingers readjusted, weaving in with your own. 

Tilting your head down, you gazed at your conjoined hands, turning them a bit so that his was on top. It was kind of comical how much bigger his was than yours. The back of it almost reminded you of a windowpane on a rainy autumn day with the way his prominent veins popped out and snaked over the callused skin just like streaks of water would dance down the surface of the glass. Reaching out, almost unconsciously, you traced the fine lines stretching across his flesh with your fingertip. 

After you had drawn over every little story the back of his palm had to tell, your interlocked hands then suddenly began to move as your eyes flickered up to see Frank, softly illuminated in the flickering firelight, slowly raising the back of yours up to his lips. 

You had no idea anything could ever feel as soft as his pillowy peck felt against your knuckles. Finding your dazzled gaze, he held it as he gently twisted your hand, gaining enough access to place a trickle of kisses along the inside of your wrist. 

And the next thing you knew, as if he was a magnet drawing you to him, your lips pressed against his in a zealous kiss. 

As you felt his fingers find your jaw on their mission to weave into your hair, you found yourself crawling closer, so close in fact that the blanket wrapped around you fell to the floor, never to be thought of again, especially not when you eagerly slid into his lap, a shaky sigh quivering against his tongue as you did so. 

You didn’t care that you were running out of air, how could you when his pecks were so intoxicating and his warmth so inviting? Wrapping your arms around his neck, you soon sensed his wide palms run down your spine, effectively turning you into goo every time his dreamy touch just shyly peeked under the hem of the oversized shirt you wore or whenever his fingertips just ever so slightly sneaked pasted the elastic of your waistband, never actually getting anywhere, but just the shear cracking of the seal drove you nuts. 

So why wouldn’t you begin to rock down into his lap? Sure, you were already on top of the guy with his tongue down your throat, but you still didn’t feel like you were close enough.

Finally, when you felt as if your heart might actually burst out of your chest, you reeled back, panting as you uttered, “fuck, my pulse is beating so fast…” blinking back into his dark eyes through your heavy lashes, you abruptly grabbed one of his hands and, without truly pondering it, tugged it closer, “here,” placing it right beneath your left peak, “feel.” 

His long fingers sprawled across your ribs, frozen and framing the crest as he sucked in a deep breath, staring back into your eyes you heard his deep timbre shoot straight to your throbbing core, “it is…” he slowly confirmed your rapid pulse, “are you okay?” 

“Yes,” you hazily nodded, his gentle question warming your heart. 

“Do you wanna–…” you saw him concentrate on not letting his yearning touch follow its desire and enclose around your boob among other intimate locations, “do you wanna stop?” 

With the lightest of shakes to your head, you asked, “do you?” which he promptly answered as you felt his palm begin to move, gently gliding up till he cupped your tit, his broad thumb lightly swiping across, grazing over the pebbly nipple that made its excitement more then clear through his dark t-shirt that hung loosely around your frame. 

You couldn’t help but let out a gasp at how good it felt. Toes curling, your hips instinctively rocked down in search of release as you then grabbed onto his bearded cheeks and seized his lips once again. 

With a palm at the small of your back, Frank insistently tugged you closer, sending you further up his strong thighs till the palpable tent in his sweatpants nudged against you. Whimpering longingly into the kiss, it hadn’t been till now that you had truly noticed just how hard he was. 

Fervently grinding down against his desire, your heated kiss briefly paused just long enough for him to scoop your shirt up and over your head, carelessly tossing it to the side before his arms swiftly enclosed around your frame, hands sprawling over your bare skin of your back as if he was starving for it.

Drawing you even closer towards him, pressing your bare chest against his, you felt his kisses begin to wander. Across your jaw, down your neck and all the way down to your tits. Mouth full, surely littering your soft peaks with lavender love marks, he gazed up at you, holding it as he then took over your desperate grinding, grip digging into your hips as he bewitchingly rocked you down against him. 

But that look he sent you should have come with a warning, because pretty much as soon as he flashed it to you, that’s when your hand shot down between your tangled forms, reaching into his pants to truly feel what was driving you mad.

His head tilted back and collided with the plush seat, his mouth agape as he savoured every little pet you offered him as you fished his heavy length out of its restraints. 

It was almost a growl that vibrated deep within his throat as he then buried his fists in the cotton of the underwear that stretched across your ass, retroactively pulling them tight enough against you for the soaked gusset to briefly tug against your folds before one of his hands shot down to touch you properly. 

Though he didn’t pet you through your panties long before you felt him suddenly yank you up to your knees in order to tug the last bit of your clothes off. Raising your shins, one at a time to help him get them off your form completely, your own fingers eagerly mirrored his as you tugged both his sweatpants and the boxers beneath down his thighs, though you didn’t get to finish the job yourself as he impatiently took over and snatched them the rest of the way off. 

You both let out a molten moan the moment you settled back down into his lap, a breathy, “fucking hell,” also flowed from Frank’s lips as your cunt drenched his girth in your want. Palm cupping your flush cheek, he whispered enchantingly, “you’re so fucking beautiful…”

Nuzzling his sturdy nose against your own, you rocked against him so perfectly, so electrically, that if you kept going even just a minute longer, then you’d surely cum right then and there.  

“Frank, please,” you whimpered as you felt your pussy clench around nothing, “I wanna feel you,” his hands raked all across your spine, “I need to feel you, all of you, please, I feel so fucking empty.”

“Yeah?” he tilted his chin back, catching your fluttering gaze. 

“P-please,” you practically trembled at this point. 

Arms already fast around you, he swiftly scooped you up and laid you back down on to the rug, capturing your lips in a brief kiss as he settled on top of you like some carnal deity. 

Reaching down, he only brushed his bulbous tip through your folds twice, tapping the weight lightly against your buzzing clit, before you tangled your legs behind him and drew him in. 

Perhaps the adrenaline had been to blame, but the brief encounter you previously had with Frank’s cock hadn’t been substantial enough as the light touches hadn’t been able to warn you of the daunting girth he was packing. 

As he slowly sank in, a rushed, “shh, shh, shh,” flowed out pasted your lips as you with suddenly wide eyes landed a few trembling taps to his abdomen, pleating him to a halt. 

“What? What?” he asked, eyes scanning your features as you breathed deep, trying to overcome his fierce size.

“Holy fuck,” you whimpered breathlessly, eyes fluttering uncontrollably, “w-why didn’t you tell me you were so–, so–, fuck… so big?” 

A chuckle suddenly rumbled through him, “well I’m sorry, I thought you had already–, uh… do you need me to pull back out? We don’t need to do it like this if you–”

“No, no, no, don’t, don’t,” the words spilled out of you like the water from the glass you had spilled earlier, “just give me a second, I just need a second.”

Brows knitted, your eyes didn’t leave his as you reeled in the overwhelming, yet astoundingly pleasurable sensation, your walls slowly relaxing around his fat tip as you still felt so close to the edge, like just a tiny little feather could tip you over into ecstasy. 

Gentle caresses moving up and down the curve of your form, his soft smile soon brightened as he eventually zeroed in on your puffy pearl, your vibrant reaction being more than enough indication for him to know what was on the brink of occurring. 

His tight circles didn’t quit, even when you pussy clenched so tight that his tip popped straight out, he just kept going till your moans turned into cries, limbs grew chaotic and your hand shot down to tap his out, halting it to a complete standstill. 

“H-holy shit,” you panted, pulling him down to seize him lips, “holy shit…” you felt his glossy fingers trade the firm motions in with a gentle bit of contact, lightly cupping his slick palm against your puffy folds, shielding you in a way and kissing you softly as you took a moment to regain your vigor. 

“You good?” you eventually heard him check in.

“Am I good?” you chuckled, a light furrow crinkling up your brows, “Frank, you just gave me one of the best orgasms I’ve had in I don’t even know how long, but definitely the best one someone else has ever given to me. Yes, I’m good, I’m really good,” you giggled against his lips as you captured them in another kiss, “are you good?”

Echoing your light laughter, he rumbled, “yeah,” as if his painfully hard cock, throbbing against your stomach wasn’t enough of a clue. 

Lips glued to his, you reached down and curled your fingers around his dick, or at least as much as you could with your fingers barely meeting on the other side. Ravenous once again, you dragged him across your sensitive clit, his low groan mixing and mingling with your own before you nudged him against your entrance, welcoming him back inside once more. 

It was slow, oh so very slow with bountiful breaks dispersed throughout, but eventually, with a bit of patience and a tender touch, you worked up to a gentle rhythm. Though to say that it was gentle in no way meant it wasn’t intense, as the tears that promptly began to trickle down your cheeks effectively made that known. 

It only took one sniffle before Frank noticed, reacting quickly though not managing to open his mouth before you did, “I’m sorry.”

“Are you okay?” 

“Y-yeah, it’s just–, you feel so good,” you blubbered, nails clawing into his back, “having you touch me like this, feeling you inside of me, it just feels so good, please don’t stop,” you begged, your lust streaming through the hot tears, “I’m sorry, I’m not sad, I swear, I don’t know why I’m crying,” a giggle managed to bubble through, “just please don’t stop, please, pleas–”

But the rest of your whimpering words morphed into desperate moans as Frank delivered on exactly what you asked for and then some. Perhaps the palpable power he had on you finally went to his head as he then just let go and lost himself in the pleasure of your warmth.

You’d actually forgotten that he’d, up until now, only fucked you with a fraction of him, but when the air got suddenly punched out of your lungs as his heavy sack tapped feverishly against you, fat girth stretching you out and filling you up to the very brink, the overwhelming sensation wasn’t at all excruciating as you had feared, no, instead it genuinely sent your body straight to cloud nine. 

“I won’t stop,” he croaked as he rocked into you, “I promise, I won’t fucking stop,” timing the last few words with his frantic hips, driving into you with each and every word. 

“F-Frank, oh!” your eyes rolled in your skull as you sensed your thighs begin to tremble once more, the carpet beneath you beginning to burn from the friction his desperate pace was causing.

“Atta girl,” he groaned deliciously, “fucking hell, you’re gripping onto me so good, so fucking good,” just the tip of his nose ghosted against your own as he murmured, “sucking me back in, you feel so incredible, so–, fuck…” 

The lewd and sloppy melody of your connection reverberating throughout the cabin soon concluded with you both in a sweaty and jumbled pile, your thighs still quivering as he reached out for the forgotten blanket, tugging it over the both of you. 

Laying there on the floor, soothingly tangled and listening to the fire crackle, you felt yourself melt further into Frank’s form as his touch softly brushed across your tender skin, drawing soothing patterns as you held him close. 

“About–…” you then heard him hesitantly break the blissed-out silence, “about what you said earlier… last night…” craning your neck, you locked eyes with his as he admitted, “you scare me too.”

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

#lea’s writing #lilac series #lumberjack!frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle smut #frank castle imagine #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle fic #the punisher fic #frank castle fanfiction #the punisher x reader #frank castle series #lumberjack au #marvel smut #the punisher smut #marvel x reader smut #jon bernthal smut

[zepskies]

Take Me Home - Part 4

Pairing: Beau Arlen x F. Reader 

Summary: You are another lost soul at Sunny Day Excursions. You’re aiming to settle in Helena, Montana, where Beau Arlen is the new sheriff in town. But you’ve both got a past you’re running from. 

AN: Ready for a riding lesson? 😏

Song Inspo: “Sunshine on My Shoulders” by John Denver

Word Count: 6K

Tags/Warnings: Fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, and a cliffhanger...

❤️ Series Masterlist

Part 4: A Past & Future Thing

You gasped and gripped even tighter with your thighs. With almost everything you had.

You were still far too unsteady for comfort on this damn horse. The poor animal whinnied, tossing his head back with a huff. Unfortunately, that just made you tense up even more as you held onto his neck. 

Beau tried not to laugh. You looked like a cat clinging to the edge of a bath.

“Okay, you needa relax a little,” he said. “He ain’t gonna buck you, long as you don’t give him a reason to.”

You shot him a narrowed look. He was sitting all calm and natural on his own horse, a chestnut brown beauty of a stud. Apparently, his name was Clyde. You were riding his brother Dale, who was supposed to be the older, gentler of the two.

Beau was right next to you, since he was the one holding the reins. You two were still just a little way off from the stable as he guided your horse with his, letting you just get a feel for the ride.

“I’m sure you’ve heard that animals can sense our vibes,” he said, giving you a look that tipped his Stetson forward. “So if you just take a few deep breaths, I promise you, it’ll get easier.”

You met Beau’s gaze. You didn’t know if it was the smooth, steady tone of his voice or the sincerity in his eyes, but you did as he advised. You made the effort of exhaling slowly, and you began to relax.

“Okay,” he nodded with a smile. Then he gestured ahead. “Now, look forward for me. Try not to look at his hooves, though I know they’re pretty.”

He teased a smile out of you as you did what he said, casting your gaze up ahead to the horizon. It was a beautiful day. A wide expanse of terrain laid out ahead of you, with green grass mottled with some brown, and a weather-beaten trail clearly carved by horses and lessons given.  

“And like I told you,” he added, “Try not to squeeze so hard with your legs, or he’ll think you’re rarin’ to go.” 

You blushed, and relaxed your thighs enough so you were just supporting yourself on the horse, not giving yourself a leg cramp. 

“Okay, I think you’re ready for me to let go. Wanna keep going on your own?” Beau suggested. 

You were wary, but you tentatively nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

“Are you sure?” Beau asked. Again, his eyes met yours. “I’ll keep guiding you the whole way if you want. Either way, I’ve gotcha.”

You swallowed down a bit of nerves. “Yeah?”

He smiled, and you noticed how it crinkled the corners of his eyes.

“Trust me,” he said. “You’re not gonna fall on my watch.”

Warmth coiled its way around your heart. You let out another deep breath, and you agreed to have him hand over the reins to you. You were nervous at first, but Beau reminded you of how to guide Dale with subtle movements.

The old horse plodded forward without incident. When you gave Beau a triumphant look, that answering grin of his warmed you down to your toes. The two of you rode together more as companions while making your way across the grassy plain.

“So of all the things, why’d you wanna learn to ride a horse?” Beau asked.

“Because it terrified me,” you replied honestly. “I love animals, don’t get me wrong. Riding one though? They’re unpredictable…but I’m also tired of being afraid of what I can’t control.”

Beau nodded. He could certainly understand that.

Together, you traveled up a roaming hill. Once you reached the peak, you marveled at the view. The afternoon sun was bright and golden above the mountains and the distant line of trees.

Meanwhile, Beau glanced at you. You’d gotten more confident and comfortable in what you were doing, and it was endearing to see. You were cute, he could admit. Beautiful, as a matter of fact. You had the sun shining in your eyes, and on your hair getting tousled by the chilly breeze.

You also seemed to have a kind heart. He’d seen it in just how hard your friend’s death had hit you. He saw it again when he helped you move into your apartment. He saw the joy you took in cooking dinner for all of them after a long-ass day, even though you could’ve just ordered a pizza.

It was the little things, he thought, and the more he saw of you, the more he liked.

That thought also made his heart twinge, and not in a good way. Carla reared up in the back of his mind. He wasn’t sure if it was more with annoyance or guilt at this point, but she’d moved on a hell of a long time before he had anyway. (Beau could admit that point, just to himself.)

It just made him wonder what he was doing here with you. Was it just because he knew you were having a hard time, and he wanted to cheer you up? Was it because you were Denise’s family? Or was it because…he just wanted to see more of you?

“You don’t get this view in the city, huh?” Beau asked. 

“You do not,” you replied. Your smile grew, making his do the same without him realizing.

Inside though, he wanted to shake his head at himself. You were a bit younger than him. Maybe not by all that much, in the grand scheme of things, but he was in his mid-forties, divorced with a sixteen-year-old daughter, and a somewhat unpredictable, occasionally dangerous job. At this point, he wouldn’t exactly consider himself a catch.

You were also dealing with a complicated past of your own. You’d been through a lot, especially in the past couple of weeks.

And yet, Cassie’s probing questions circled through his mind, invading his thoughts every time he found himself looking your way. 

Your face slowly dimmed. “Next week is Mary’s funeral. I’m going back home for a few days.”

Beau processed that with a nod, but he could guess why you looked worried. 

“And your ex?” he asked.

“He’s going to be there for sure. We were all close.” A deep breath rushed out of you. You peeled your eyes away from the view and looked over at him. “God help me, I don’t want to go home…does that make me a bad person?”

“Nah, I get it,” he said. He regarded you with more weight in his gaze. “But this guy. Is he the aggressive type?”

“No,” you assured. Then more wryly, “He’s only dangerous to my mental health.”

You contemplated that reality for a moment, and you shook your head.

“You know how I found out about what he was doing?” you asked. “He sent me a Happy Birthday text…a spicy one, you could say. But it wasn’t my birthday.” 

“Damn,” Beau said, grimacing in sympathy. 

You tried not to, but you began tearing up. Beau wanted to brush them from your cheek as he drew closer on his horse. Instead, he settled a hand on your shoulder. 

“Hey,” he said, quiet and placating. “I’m thinking you’ve cried enough over this.”

“I just…I still feel so damn stupid,” you muttered, wiping under your eyes.  

“What, are you a Professor of Cheatin’ Bastards too?” Beau quipped. You smiled reluctantly.

“That’s not funny,” you complained. 

He flashed you a grin and allowed himself to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear when a breeze of wind blew it into your face.

“Come on. You know I’m funny,” he teased, but then, he became more serious. “It’s not your fault. Trust me, I know something about being the problem, and it’s not on you.”

Both your interest and concern were piqued.

“You and Carla?” you asked. “You’re telling me it was all on you?”

“Well, maybe not all. But like you, my ex-wife ain’t a fool,” Beau said. His eyes lowered, along with his hand from your arm. “Let’s just say, it was justified.”

Let’s just say, you contemplated. That seemed to be his favorite catchphrase.

You didn’t know if you altogether believed that. He was going to grief counseling for a reason. You wanted to ask why, more than anything, but you also didn’t want to press him on something if he didn’t want to talk about it. If he felt comfortable enough with you, someday, maybe he’d open up to you. 

So after a few minutes of savoring the view, and the moment, you returned to town together.

A few days later, Beau still had a bad feeling about Avery.

His company was being investigated by the SEC and was threatening to go under. Apparently, Avery had made “friends” with Luke on the trip, who according to Avery, let it slip that he and Paige had $15 million in cryptocurrency.

The passcode to that $15 million account was missing. Beau had more than half a mind to think Avery had made a play for it during that camping trip. Carla hadn’t known her new husband’s company was being investigated. She’d put her foot down with Avery about the lying, at least.

As a result, Beau’s only consolation in all this was that she and Emily were back in their house, while Avery was living out of a hotel in town. Beau might not be able to pin him for the stolen crypto right now, but he knew where to look for Avery when the evidence came.

The man was #1 on Beau’s punch list, and it was only getting longer.

Instead of letting those thoughts fester, he decided to actually take his lunch break, and go check in on his daughter. Denise and Cassie told him she was doing well as their summer intern.

Emily seemed to be enjoying her time helping the private investigators. She showed him her small workstation beside Denise’s desk, where she was organizing old and new files, inputting the hard copies into digital ones on Cassie’s spare laptop. Emily was also helping out with some database research on existing cases.

Satisfied that she was helping out, but wasn’t doing anything too close to actual police work, Beau took the opportunity to lean over to Denise and discreetly ask about you.

Namely, how you were doing, and if you’d called her from Chicago. He managed to hold himself from asking when you were coming back to Montana, at least.

Denise still gave him a certain smile.

“Yeah, she called yesterday. She’s coming back today actually,” she replied. “I’m planning to pick her up in a few hours.”

Beau’s lips twitched at a smile, and he nodded. “Good. That’s uh…that’s good. Tell her I said ‘welcome home.’”

Denise and Cassie shared a look, one that drew even Emily’s attention. She shot her dad a glance and noted the dumb smile on his face. One that he tucked away when he met Emily’s gaze.

“Anyway, looks like you’re doing all right here. You’re coming to stay with me tomorrow, right?” he asked her.

“Yeah, sure,” Emily agreed.

“Okay, kiddo. See ya then,” Beau said. He gave her a hug and kiss to the side of the head. Though she gave him a hug back, she watched with a bit of suspicion after he said goodbye to Cassie and Denise, strolling out the door like he was making some kind of escape.

The adults again shared a look of mutual understanding. Then Cassie smiled and grabbed her work bag.

“All right. I’ll be back in a bit. Need to check on a few leads,” she said.

After Emily and Denise waved her off, the latter made some tea and returned with a mug each for her and Emily. Denise reclaimed the seat behind her desk, but she turned towards the girl beside her.

“So, hun, how’re you doing?” Denise asked. “I mean, I know you’ve gone through a lot these past couple weeks, and we’re happy to give you a little distraction here. But are you okay?”

Emily bit her lip and turned her rolling chair towards Denise. She had to take some time with her answer. Ever since coming back from that camp, she didn’t know if she’d really answered that question honestly—not for her mom, or her dad.

“Well, on one hand, Mom kicked Avery out. Or, I guess he kicked himself out,” she said. “On the other hand, my mom and dad are getting along better than they have since before the divorce, so…there’s that.”

Emily rested her elbow on the desk in front of her, head in hand. Denise gave her a sympathetic half-smile.

“I don’t hate Avery,” Emily admitted. “I actually like him a lot. He made Mom happy again. But would it be nice if she and my dad…if we could be a family again? I mean, yeah.”

Denise was patient as she listened. She tried to keep her true thoughts on the matter inside as you came to mind, though she pushed all that into the background in order to give Emily her undivided attention. 

“At the same time, I don’t know,” Emily shrugged. “My dad’s a great person, but he’s not good at letting people in. I don’t think Mom could go through that again.”

“Go through what?” Denise asked. 

“The way my dad shut us out, after what happened to his partner,” Emily explained. Her face went from slightly sad, to wry. “Okay, yeah, my mom’s not the most patient person. But Dad still doesn’t talk about it, not even to Mom. Or to me.”

Denise had heard some small thing about Beau’s former partner from you, and even Jenny, but she didn’t know the specifics there. All she knew was it laid at the heart of Beau and Carla’s divorce.

“Well, he’s your dad,” Denise said with a sigh. “He wants to protect you, even if that means protecting you from himself.”

“Sure, okay, but he doesn’t have to though. Not all the time,” Emily said.

She could be a strong, even-keeled kid, mature for her age, but Denise saw the rare vulnerability in the girl’s eyes.

“Sometimes I wish he’d just talk to me,” Emily said. Her eyes fell away.

Denise’s heart broke for the girl. Not knowing what else to say, she scooched her chair forward and pulled Emily into a warm hug.

By the time Denise picked you up from the airport and dropped you off at your apartment, you were beyond exhaustion. Coming home from a week in your hometown in Chicago left you feeling drained. Physically, emotionally, down to your toes.

At least you were home.

It was a surprising feeling—the feeling that this was your home now. Already it felt real.

Seeing your ex will do that to you.

“So how was it?” Denise asked. She’d graciously made you dinner as well, so you didn’t have to cook or worry about eating out. You two sat on the couch in your living room while some romcom played in the background.

“Everything I thought it would be,” you replied, around a mouthful of meatloaf and mashed potatoes. You let out a heavy sigh.

It had been good to see your parents, you explained, and you’d finally been able to give your condolences to Mary’s parents in person—at the funeral.

That’s where Michael tried to corner you to hash out what would’ve been yet another argument, at the burial of all things. You had to restrain yourself from making a scene in front of Mary’s entire grieving family, as well as yours.

Denise shook her head. “That guy ain’t got an iota of shame.”

You snorted. “You’re telling me?!”

You shook your head and speared at your green beans with your fork. You couldn’t even mourn your friend in peace, for God’s sake.

“Did your parents try to get you to stay longer?” she asked.

Again, you scoffed. “Oh, yeah. They actually tried to use Mary’s death to get me to think Helena was more dangerous than Chicago.”

While you’d understood their point to an extent, your home city still maintained one of the worst crime rates in the U.S.

“Still think you made the right decision?” Denise asked. “Whatever’s in your heart about it, just know that I’m so happy to have you here.”

She took your free hand and squeezed. You managed to smile, if just a little.

“Yeah. I think so,” you replied.

Chicago would always have a place in your heart, but for better or worse, this was your new start. And you were taking it.

You woke up the next morning to a shiny new text message. Still bleary-eyed, you unlocked your phone, and you just had to smile.

It was from Beau Arlen, you were pleasantly surprised to find.

Hey there. Heard you were back in town. (Welcome home, by the way.) Just wanted to let you know that me, Cassie, and Jenny are hitting a bar tonight after shift. You’re welcome to join in. Say around 8?

Without even really thinking about it, you typed out your reply:

Sure! I’ll be there. (And thanks very much. It’s nice to know the county sheriff rolls out the welcome mat for all of Helena’s returning citizens.)

You got up and started your day. You were midway through brushing your teeth when your phone buzzed on the bathroom counter. Your lips curved into a smirk when you read Beau’s reply.

Sounds good. (And I’m happy to oblige. 😉)

You shouldn’t have been blushing at such a simple message, but it set off the butterflies regardless. You huffed and set down your toothbrush.

Damn it.

You were in trouble.

With such a nice start to your morning, you were smiling all the way into town. The place you were headed to was just down the street of Dewell & Hoyt, so you knew you had to stop in just to say hello. There you found Denise and Emily.

“Did you have a good trip?” Emily asked, after you let her go from a hug. You gave your aunt one next.

“It was…good,” you replied, with a sigh. “Mary’s at rest now.”

Your eyes stung at the thought, but you tried to blink past it, taking in a breath to steady yourself. While Denise rubbed your back, Emily squeezed your arm in comfort, leading you to give her a smile. She was a sweet girl.

“What brings you over?” Denise asked.

You shook your head to come back to yourself. You showed them the large bag you carried on your shoulder. It was full of your painting supplies.

“Well, I’m actually headed to an art studio just down the street. I looked up the lessons they were offering this week, and apparently today it’s painting on glass. Like a bowl, or a mug, or a little stained glass window. They’ve got different options.”

Emily looked intrigued. “Ooh, that sounds cool.”

“Yeah?” you said, raising a brow. “You’re welcome to come with me if you want. Unless my aunt can’t spare you, or you’d rather not. It’s fine.”

There was no pressure to your offer, but you remembered Emily being somewhat interested in your painting endeavors while on the camping trip. With everything the girl had been going through, you thought maybe she’d like something creative and fun to try to get her mind off things. You knew it was doing the same for you.

“No, that would be fun, I guess,” said Emily. She looked to Denise in askance, who waved a dismissive hand. 

“It’s okay, hun. Take the afternoon off,” she said. “I’ve got things here.”

Emily smiled and nodded.

“Okay. Let me just grab my stuff.”

You and Emily ventured together right down the street to the art studio. You paid for the $40 entrance fee each for you and Emily into the class.

You could see that she felt uncomfortable with that when you two took your seats near the back of the studio. It was pretty full, and neither of you wanted to be right at the front, preferring to hang out more chill-like in the back.

There at each long table was an easel each, after you chose what kind of glass you wanted to paint on. Emily chose a funky looking bowl, while you chose a rectangular piece of wood-framed glass.

“I’ll pay you back,” Emily said, once you two were comfortable in your respective seats. You waved her off.

“It’s okay, honey. I invited you,” you said. Then you gave her a conspiring look. “Here’s my rule of thumb, especially on dates, for example. The person who invites you should shell out.”

Emily smiled. “That makes sense to me.”

You saw the gears in her mind turning, and it reminded you of her little “summer project.” She’d told you about it a couple of times on that camping trip.

“How’s your podcast going?” you asked. The girl sighed; she chose a brush and started painting blue stripes across her glass bowl.

“Slow,” she admitted. “I’m lacking interesting subjects.”

You hummed at that. “Maybe you need a guest to help kick things off.”

Emily smiled at that. She turned to you with a gleam of excitement.

“Would you do it?” she asked.

Your mouth fell open in surprise. “Me? I think I’d be too boring. Isn’t your podcast about relationships?”

“Well, yeah, but that was a good bit you just had,” she said. “Who pays on a date?”

You thought about it with another hum of contemplation. Suddenly you could start to see the potential in her idea. You still didn’t want to be a subject of inquiry, but you didn’t want to dim her spark either.

“Well, it would be fun if you got a man’s perspective too,” you said.

Emily brightened. Finally, someone who cared about her side project. 

“What about Dad?” she said. “He’s a guy.”

You chuckled. “Well, yes.” 

Though you wondered about the last time he’d been on a date since his divorce, or if he even was dating right now. 

The more you thought about it, the more interesting it might be to see Beau answer some of those kinds of questions. It wasn’t at all because you were curious about the man yourself…

“Maybe you’re onto something there,” you said, a smile growing on your face.

“I’ll ask him,” Emily vowed. “Maybe he’ll actually open up for once.”

She sort of muttered that last bit. It caught your attention with a wry brow raise.

“What? Your dad is as chatty as they come,” you said. Emily rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, about dumb stuff,” she said. “Try to get anything serious out of him. He’s like an old clam.”

A snort of laughter escaped you. “Old clam. That’s nice.”

Though you saw that there was something deeper there for Emily. You’d seen these kinds of moments in some of your students before. Sometimes, they felt comfortable enough with you to share what they were going through at home. In Emily’s case, it seemed like she was hurting about something, maybe for a while now.

You continued painting on your glass project, but you offered her a look of understanding.

“Remember how I told you that my dad used to be a firefighter?” you said. Emily nodded.

“Well, your dad sounds a bit like mine. He’d rather consult a bottle of Jack Daniels than anyone else, really,” you confessed. “He saw a lot of things on the job that were hard. Too hard to explain. Possibly too hard to even work through. It made him…distant, when I was a kid. I don’t think we really connected until I got older.”

And even now, your relationship with him was rocky at best, after he’d suggested you try to work it out with Michael. You and your father hadn’t truly spoken ever since.

You still gave Emily a look of encouragement.

“But, it seems like you and your dad have a better relationship than I did with mine at your age,” you said.

That fell between you both while Emily ruminated in it. She started adding gold strokes to her bowl alongside the blue in swirling patterns, and it was a really nice touch, you told her. She thanked you with a little smile.

“Did my dad tell you that he lost his partner on the job?” she asked.

You sighed. “Yes, he told me some. We didn’t go too deep into it.”

“Well, for a whole year, it was like we barely existed,” she said. “Mom tried to help him. I tried…but I guess he was a lot like your dad.”

Your lips pressed together. You were sad to hear that, but it did remind you of what Beau told you that day, when he took you horseback riding.

“Well, maybe not all. But like you, my ex-wife ain’t a fool,” Beau had said. “Let’s just say, it was justified.”

You now nodded in understanding as you hummed. Let’s just say.

“He seems better now,” you remarked. 

“Yeah. He cleaned up when Mom left him,” Emily said. “I guess that’s what it took to snap him out of it.”

You shook your head, and you kept painting.  

You could understand Carla, all too well. It just hurt you, now that you knew what a good man Beau was. Your sympathetic heart said he didn’t deserve to get left behind when he needed his family the most.

However, the more logical part of you knew that sometimes, love just wasn’t enough to keep you tied to someone who didn’t seem to want to help themselves. When it felt like they were giving you no choice.

“Anyway, you’ll be my other guest, right?” Emily asked with a smile. “For the podcast.”

You barely resisted the urge to groan. As much as you preferred not to put yourself out there, you didn’t want to discourage the girl in her project.

“Well…okay. If you get your dad on, I’m sure it’ll be interesting,” you said, your lips forming a grin. You two continued to paint while chatting about Emily’s favorite subjects in school. English, sadly, was not one of them, but you weren’t offended by it. Shakespeare wasn’t for everyone.

“I’m actually meeting your dad for drinks tonight. If you want, I’ll ask him about being on the podcast, try to soften him up for you,” you offered. “Though I’m sure he’ll do it if you asked.”

Emily considered you with a bit more scrutiny. “Are you…seeing my dad?”

“Oh, no,” you said immediately. Just the suggestion had your cheeks warming. “Cassie and Jenny will be there too. It’s nothing like that.”

“Sure,” Emily said. She gave an awkward laugh. 

“Really, Em. He and I are just friends,” you promised. 

Even if that thought stung a little.

Despite what you told Emily, you did put a fair amount of effort into your appearance to meet your new friends that night for drinks.

You even put on your favorite red lipstick with some dark wash jeans, a black pair of ankle boots, and a black lace top to match, complete with off-the-shoulder sleeves. 

Cassie whistled lowly when she saw you walk into the bar from her seat in one of the booths. She smiled and nudged Beau, whose face slackened when he saw you. 

God help him, you were sexy as hell in black. 

Black lace, he corrected himself. Your hair was a bit wild and teased out. The flash of red was a pleasant surprise, momentarily drawing his eyes to your lips. He felt the back of his neck heat up, but he tried to hide it all behind a friendly smile. He found himself sliding out of the booth to hug you in greeting. 

Goddamn, she smells good too, he thought. Was that your perfume, or your shampoo? Whatever it was, he liked it more than was good for him.

He managed to let you go though, and he grinned at your somewhat shy smile. You moved on to greet Cassie next, then Jenny, before you slid into the booth next to her and across from Beau and Cassie. 

“How was Chicago?” Jenny asked. It brought the mood down some. You gave a true smile, however tinged with melancholy. It was still very difficult to talk about Mary, but since everyone at the table knew the full story, it was easier to be honest.

“Chicago was needed. It was good, in a way. I got to lay her to rest,” you replied. “But I’m glad to be back.”

“Glad to have you back,” Cassie said. She passed you a tequila shot. 

“Ooh, nice.” You weren’t usually one for hard liquor, but tonight, you thought you could let yourself go a little. You downed the shot in one. 

“Eyy, good job,” Beau said, raising his whiskey with a wink. You laughed in slight embarrassment and wiped the corner of your mouth.

While Cassie called over the closest server to get them started with some appetizers for the table, you turned to Beau.

“You know, I did a painting class with Emily today,” you told him. “She did great! Has a nice little bowl to put her jewelry in.”

He raised his brows, smiling. “Is that so? What do you know. My little girl’s a budding artist. Is she gonna go all broody and steal even more of my vinyl?”

You shook your head in amusement.

“She’s a teenager. They don’t need any excuses to be broody,” Jenny remarked.

“Fair enough,” Beau chuckled.  

“Actually, she asked me to be on her podcast,” you said. “She wanted to see if you’d join in for a segment.”

The man looked uncertain at that. You understood his reservations, because you had the same ones. Cassie and Jenny looked amused by the idea of him getting recorded and put on social media by his sixteen-year-old.

“Look, I know, but she just wants to ask us a few questions,” you said. “Like who should pay on a date, that sort of thing.”

Beau rested his elbows on the table and folded his hands. The humor in his green eyes shone under the soft gold lamplight.

“Well, that’s easy. I was raised to be a gentleman,” he said. “I wouldn’t feel right letting a woman pay for me.”

You tilted your head in interest. A smile started to play on your lips as you leaned forward on your folded arms.

“Huh. Well, I think whoever asks the person out should pay,” you posed. “That doesn’t necessarily mean the man pays every time.”

Beau’s lips twitched, but there was a subtle shake of his head.

“I don’t know. That just doesn’t sit right with me for some reason,” he said. 

You turned to Jenny and Cassie for some support, and they both gave Beau an unimpressed look.

“You mean to tell me you wouldn’t let me pay for my own drinks?” you asked. “I have a job. I make money, same as you.”

At that, Beau chuckled. “Hey now, I didn’t say you couldn’t pay for your own. But you’re certainly not paying for mine.”

“So in your world, I can’t ever treat my man if I want to?” you challenged.

“What, you mean to tell me you don’t like getting spoiled?” Beau countered.

When you smiled, it had an amused, almost flirtatious edge that began to make him hot under the collar. 

“Occasionally, sure I do,” you replied. “But then again, who doesn’t like getting spoiled now and again?”

“Doesn’t have to be about who pays either,” Cassie interjected. 

“It sure doesn’t,” Jenny agreed. The women laughed and clinked their drinks together, leaving Beau with a warming face under his beard. He once again chuckled, conceding defeat. 

Conversation spiraled from there, in which Jenny mentioned something about her and Beau’s latest finished case about Brett, a skydiving, former firefighter’s murder.

It was a coverup for a larger scheme within his old firehouse—where firefighters had been looting homes after they’d been cleared out of a fire. Brett’s friend had been killed on one of those jobs, and not by accident either.

“That’s awful,” you said with a frown, once she finished explaining.

Against your will, it made you think of your ex-fiancé, Michael. He was still an active firefighter. While he had been a shitty boyfriend, at the very least you’d never had reason to question his integrity as a first responder.

“Yeah, it was hard on the father too. He’s the unit chief, and the whole operation was happening on his watch,” Beau said. “One of his own firefighters killed his son. It’s damn near unthinkable.”

Beau’s mood had shifted the moment Jenny brought up this case, you noticed. He was staring mostly into his half-empty whiskey glass, as if contemplating a refill.

“We said we wouldn’t talk shop tonight,” Cassie said. She seemed to notice his downshift as well. She got up out of her seat in the booth. “Let me get the next round. Another tequila?”

“Sure,” you shrugged. You’d probably pace yourself this time.  

“Not for me, I’m good with this,” Beau said. 

He held that whiskey between his hands, and you were glad that he was going slow. Your conversation with Emily about his own bout with grief and loss was still fresh in your mind. While your heart broke for him, you were also a little worried for him. Had this latest case opened up some old wounds?

“I’ll go with you,” Jenny said. You slid out of the booth so Jenny could as well. It left you and Beau to talk, while Jenny and Cassie went up to the bar together.

Cassie tried to get the bartender’s attention, but she glanced at her friend out of the corner of her eye.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Fine. Why?” Jenny replied. But she wasn’t meeting Cassie’s gaze. She was watching you and Beau, almost in melancholy.

Cassie’s brows furrowed as she realized what was happening. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed it before, considering both of their professions. 

“Aw, Jenny…” Cassie breathed. She wondered just how long her friend had been harboring some feelings for Beau Arlen.

Knowing she was “caught,” Jenny gave a wry smile.

“Don’t. It’s not a big deal,” she said quietly. “He likes her.”

Cassie sighed. “I think so. Even if he doesn’t realize it yet.”

“He deserves something good,” Jenny said. Her smile was a bit more genuine this time. Cassie nodded in agreement.

“So does she, after what she’s gone through.”

“So how are you doing?” you asked Beau. It was the first time you’d been alone with this man since that horse riding lesson last week, and part of you was feeling a bit nervous.

Just friends, like you told Emily. You had to remind yourself. Just friends…until evidence points to the contrary.

At your question, Beau heaved a sigh, running a hand over his face. Suddenly he looked more tired than he did before. The laugh lines around his eyes looked more like the telltale signs of stress.

“Well, first off, we found the missing backpacker,” he said. “It seems the poor young man fell down a cliff while hiking.”

Your brows furrowed and you covered your mouth with a hand. “Oh my God.”

Beau nodded in grim confirmation. His gaze met yours.

“But I also wanted to tell you this in person when you got back. I’ve also got a silver lining on our mountain man, Walter,” he continued. “He confessed to murdering Paige. He’s keeping tight-lipped about Mary and Luke, but we’ve got him dead set to rights on at least one of the murders.”

You processed that with a shaky breath. Then you nodded.

“We’re gonna keep working on him from every angle, I promise,” Beau said. Just like he’d promised you before—that he would get justice for Mary. You believed him.

“Thank you,” you said. Your gaze softened, and you contemplated laying your hand over his on the table. You just barely stopped yourself.

Instead, you cleared your throat and swiped some of your hair over your shoulder.

“Any other news, hot off the press?” you joked, trying to alleviate the heaviness in your heart. Beau quirked a smile. He leaned back in his seat and carded a hand through his hair.

“Ahh. Well…you know I’m investing my ex-wife’s husband,” he said drolly, sipping his whiskey. “And that’s going about as well as it sounds. I can’t get into the details of course…but he might be dealing in something shady.”

Your eyes widened. “Shady, or dangerous?”

Beau realized how he’d let that last bit slip out. He wished he hadn’t. Not only did he not want to worry you, but he didn’t want you anywhere near his open cases.

“I’m keeping close tabs on Carla and Emily just to be safe,” he admitted. 

Your face became the picture of concern. But before you could respond, a man approached the table, tall and lean, with a shaggy cut of dark blonde hair. He wore a pair of faded jeans, boots, and a gray and red Chicago FD shirt. 

Your face paled, and your mouth parted in surprise. 

“Hey there, stranger,” he said with a smile. 

“Michael?” you gasped.

AN: 🫣 Yep, we're going there lol. But how did you like the horseback riding lesson? Or her little day out with Emily? Or the bit of fun at the bar, before Michael showed up?

You'll definitely be seeing more of that guy in Part 5...

Next Time:

“Michael?” you gasped. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Beau’s eyes widened. Michael was younger than him, closer to your age. And cocky too.  

“Hey, baby,” Michael said. His smile quirked with charm, but his next words were anything but charming. 

“We need to talk,” he said, raising his brows.

“We actually don’t,” you retorted in a firmer voice. Cold even. You straightened in your seat. 

Beau saw none of your softness and good humor from earlier. This was a different woman, and he was actually proud of you for standing your ground. Though he realized then that he’d never gotten on your bad side. (He hoped he never did.)

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 5

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[sunkendreams]

asking for some ethan landry smut ,,, I don’t care what you write but I need it! 🧎‍♀️

when the party’s over.

➾ pairing ; ethan landry x fem!reader.

in which you meet a cute boy at a college party and decide to have a little bit of fun behind closed doors.

FORMAT: drabble — requested.

WORD COUNT: 4K.

WARNINGS: SMUT! (mdni), alcohol/drinking, typical college party antics, hooking up, semi-public sex, risk of getting caught, virgin!ethan, making out, hair-pulling, groping, cunnilingus, oral sex (f!receiving), extreme horny antics, handjob (m!receiving), fingering, cumming together ;)), ethan has some dark/weird thoughts, cumplay, begging, dirty talk, ambiguous ending

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I’m suffering from chronic ethan landry brainrot :’) he’s so cute but unhinged/deranged and I love that !!! I love my men sexy and out for blood !! I am absolutely planning on writing a part two and/or more of him, this was so fun & horny (my favorite). I hope you all enjoy! ❤️

A homemade concoction of various alcohol stung your nose as you strolled past the kitchen, surrounded by a swarm of neon lights — vibrant shades of violet, green, and hot pink. The music blared all around you, bass booming hard enough to make your bones rattle.

Blackmore University was infamous for its chaotic parties and mixers that involved too much to drink and too many people — tonight was no exception. Halloween was right around the corner, and the party was lively with plenty of buzzed college students dressed in costumes.

The rest of your entourage had decided to be the fairies from Pixie Hollow. You hadn’t decided on a particular fairy, but you’d gotten a cute dress and trinkets to look the part. Your wings — cheap gossamer stretched over wire frames — were serviceable at best.

You came along with a group of your friends, but they scattered as soon as they walked through the door. You were left to your own devices, sipping on a hard lemonade with a sour expression. The alcohol tasted decent enough, but you were wary of getting intoxicated in unfamiliar locations.

Some radio-popular hip-hop song provided a steady ambiance as you traipsed through another hallway, narrowly avoiding a collision with a sashaying junior.

The thick, heady scent of marijuana drifted throughout the frat house, accompanied by clouds of hazy smoke. As you passed by the staircase, there was a boy slumped to one side, puffing on a bong that seemed comically large. Typical college party antics, you assumed.

As you rounded the doorway, you slammed right into a boy who seemed just as startled as you were. The drink in your hand smashed into the cardboard chest piece he was wearing, exploding onto your silvery evening dress.

“S—Shit! I’m so sorry,” He stammered, fumbling over his words as he clamored to grab a towel or a rag — anything, really. He hastily decided on a throw blanket draped over the back of a leather couch, tossing it over the puddle of spilled alcohol. “I didn’t see you.”

Before you decided to admonish him for his carelessness, you realized that it wasn’t his fault — more of a joint mistake, really. “No, it’s fine! I should’ve been looking.” You replied, crouching down to help him clean up the mess.

The front of your pretty dress was now coated in a layer of sticky booze, clinging to your chest with an uncomfortable dampness. Unfortunately, you’d left your jacket back at your dormitory, riddled with a stain that would likely stay for the duration of the party.

When you finally got a look at your obstacle, you were delighted to find that he was cute — arguably the most attractive boy in the room. “I’m really sorry about your dress. I ruined your costume.” He frowned, brows furrowing together.

You realized that he was dressed as a Knight, armor meticulously crafted of intricate cardboard cutouts and patterns. “I think we ruined each other’s costumes.” You mused, gesturing toward the splotch of alcohol all over the front of his chest.

“This is going to the dumpster once the party ends, anyway.” He confessed, letting out a soft chuckle. Admittedly, it made you laugh, nose crinkling in amusement as you cleared your throat.

“Really? I think it looks great! You put a lot of effort into it.” That was true — it was a neat costume. You found it amusing that the knight and the fairy had run into one another, as if it were ripped from the pages of some gaudy romance novel.

“Thanks,” The boy chewed at the inside of his cheek, reaching to rub at the back of his neck. “You’re supposed to be a fairy, right? I noticed the wings, and the … Dress. Before I collided with you.” He was in awe of you, truly — you were absolutely gorgeous.

Part of him thought about staking out your dorm for later, but now wasn’t the time.

A familiar wave of heat washed over you, creeping into your features as you playfully spun around. Your glittering dress and cosmetics glistened in the lower light. “The rest of my friends came as the Pixie Hollow fairies. I couldn’t really decide on one, so I made my own.”

“Yeah, well you — You look really pretty.” He swallowed the growing lump within his throat, attempting to kick away that twinge of social anxiety. It was something he struggled with — he wasn’t nearly as outgoing or charismatic as his older brother.

“Thank you, that’s really sweet of you.” Bristling from his innocuous compliment, you stepped closer, attempting to close some of the distance between the both of you. “What’s your name? I didn’t catch it.” You piped up, leaning against the doorframe.

Unable to keep from smiling, he stayed static, watching as you bridged the gap. “I’m Ethan, Ethan Landry. It’s nice to meet you.” His chest shook with a brief chuckle when you stuck out your hand for an exaggerated handshake.

“Ethan Landry,” You beamed, shaking his hand with excitable energy. After you gave him your name, the conversation only seemed to blossom from there. “It’s nice to meet you, too! What are you studying here at Blakemore?”

Ethan never had the best luck with women, especially ones as pretty as you. Not only that, but you had a whirlwind of charm to you, too. “Uh … I’m still deciding. Leaning toward film, though! What about you?” He asked, unable to keep his eyes off of you.

“I’m also in the process of deciding. I’m trying to get my basic courses out of the way before I commit to something.” You chimed, sidestepping away from the swarm of rancorous students that began to pile into the living room.

With a constant grin, you peered toward the growing crowd of students dancing in the middle of the room. A fast-paced hip-hop song began to thrum over the speakers, filling the frat house with music.

“Do you want to dance?” You asked, motioning toward the gathering in the center of the room. This was the one college party where you’d met a cute boy who seemed to take an interest — you weren’t about to squander it.

He seemed visibly hesitant, making a face that screamed ‘I don’t think it’s a good idea’. Ethan relented, deciding that taking a risk and spending more time with you would be worthwhile. “Just one. It’s getting pretty crazy in here.” He wasn’t much of a dancer, either.

“Just one!” You reaffirmed, snatching ahold of his hand as the two of you joined the mosh pit of students. Somewhere through the chaos, you ended up right against him, chest to chest, swaying and bouncing to the music. It was loud, so loud that it shook the very foundations of the building.

Ethan didn’t want to make a fool out of himself. He simply mimicked some of your movements, entranced by the way you involuntarily pressed against him, a smile on your face, drifting off to the music. You grabbed one of his hands, prompting him to twirl you around.

“So what are you doing at this party? Did you come with friends?” You asked, practically yelling at Ethan as the two of you continued to dance. It was a little awkward, but he seemed engrossed, stooping down to give you an answer.

“Yeah! I came with some friends, and my roommate. They’re around here somewhere.” Ethan replied, grabbing you and pushing you aside to avoid being smacked by flying arms and stray bodies.

As Ethan briefly looked through the crowd, he noticed Chad somewhere on the other side, cheering him on with a toothy grin. It gave him a bit of a confidence boost, no matter how small it seemed to be. You were so beautiful, jubilant and vibrant, moving with the music.

The way he looked at you was mesmerizing, the stare of a charmed, smitten boy. You were the center of gravity, the sun — bright and shining just for him. Admittedly, you weren’t oblivious, and if it weren’t for the sea of people, you might’ve been emboldened enough to kiss him.

The music began to dissipate, song trailing off into the next track. “Do you want to go somewhere else to talk?” Ethan asked, surprising you by being the first to make a move. You wondered if he really meant talking, but either way, you were happy.

“Yeah.” You nodded, reaching for his hand as he escorted you out of the dance room and toward the staircase. The two of you carefully avoided any stragglers slumped on the stairs, slipping past a gaggle of girls stumbling down from the bathroom.

Once you were upstairs, things became more hushed altogether. Even just standing on the balcony provided some relief as he ran a hand through his mop of curly hair, glancing down at you with a smile. “Is this better?” He asked, leaning against the bannister,

An amused chuckle escaped you as you nodded, tilting back against the wooden post at the top of the staircase. “Much better,” You mused, absentmindedly biting at your lower lip. “You know, if you wanted to be alone, all you had to do was ask.”

Ethan’s countenance flushed from ivory to scarlet within the blink of an eye, throat becoming dry as he attempted to come up with some viable excuse. “It’s not that, I just — Shit. This isn’t what it looks like.” He groaned, feeling your hand slip around his.

“Ethan,” You murmured, canting your head to one side. “You need to stop psyching yourself out.” Another giggle left you, enough to reassure him, put his nerves to rest as you coaxed him closer. You tugged on his hand, leading him toward a room somewhere in the back hallway.

Wordlessly, you slipped inside, realizing that this was likely someone else’s room — one that was clearly unoccupied. It was all nondescript and outfitted with the bare essentials of a dorm, lights dimmed as you shut the door behind the both of you.

Your back gently pressed against the uncomfortable wood of the door as you latched it, ensuring that no one would be barging in anytime soon. Ethan appeared both excited and bewildered, chomping at the bit to finally touch a girl. He’d been lonely for so long — and now, fantasy was becoming reality.

“Are you sure? I — What if somebody hears us or comes knocking?” Ethan asked. In all actuality, he didn’t care whatsoever. He was aching, desperate to feel you and be inside of you, if you let him. The idea of losing his virginity to a beautiful girl at a party was enticing.

Neglecting to offer an answer to his constant string of worrying, you decided to change course. “Kiss me.” You whispered, feeling a pang of molten heat hit your stomach when Ethan practically pounced on you, lips messy and inexperienced as he kissed you.

The stiff cardboard of his helmet bumped into your face, causing you to giggle. Ethan became crimson-faced, swiftly tossing it behind him onto the gray carpet. Without hesitation, he grabbed your face, kissing you again with a low groan.

Music blared from downstairs, bass able to eclipse all of the noise emerging from the guest room. Your hands moved toward his shoulders, lips tangling with his as he readjusted his grip. Ethan’s palms sank into your soft curves, clutching at your hips above the dress.

“I’ve never done anything like this before,” Ethan mumbled, peering at you through his lashes. “I want to learn, though.” He wasn’t clueless — he’d watched things online before and indulged in the company of his right hand on multiple occasions.

Gentle laughter escaped you, accompanied by a twinge of understanding. “I don’t know if I wanna go all the way in the guest room of a frat house,” You mused, fingers shifting to rake through his hair. “It’s okay, Ethan. I’m not worried about it.”

Ethan relaxed, visibly reassured by your words before you tapped a nail against the cardboard cutout framing his chest. He got the hint, happy to be rid of the ridiculous costume. He didn’t care very much for it — you, on the other hand, looked ethereal.

Instead of you steering him around, he took ahold of your hands, coaxing you toward the unmade mattress. He had a vivid idea of what he wanted to do to you. Ethan watched with wide, desirous eyes as you sat down, flesh crawling with heat when he stood between your legs.

To your complete delight, Ethan sank down onto his knees, all six feet and two inches of him, hands gently caressing your legs. “You’ll tell me if I’m not doing something right, yeah?” He prompted, sucking in a sharp breath when you kissed him.

He was tall, and you didn’t have to stoop very much at all to reach him, feeling his fingertips tease the hem of your dress. Your fingers scraped against the nape of his neck, pushing themselves throughout his mop of curly hair. The soft groan that escaped him made your heart flutter.

“I’ll tell you.” You murmured, watching as he sheepishly tilted inward for another kiss. Ethan’s hands began to creep underneath your dress at a snail’s pace, exploring every inch of you. You felt velveteen beneath his fingertips, like a fine silk.

“Can I take your dress off?” Ethan murmured, peering at you through thick eyelashes. His breath hitched within his throat as you reached toward your back, unzipping the shimmering garment.

You neglected to shimmy out of the snug fabric, letting it pool around your chest, instead. “All yours.” Your hand dipped toward the silvery straps around your ankles as you stepped out of your heels.

Ethan swallowed the lump of excitement that coalesced within the back of his throat, hands curling into the hem of your dress. Sluggishly, he began to coax the fabric down, mesmerized by the way you lifted your hips, wordlessly assisting him.

The thin straps of your lace brassiere clung to your chest, accompanied by a matching pair of panties. Ethan’s sigh was shaky, quivering with a tremor of delight as he grabbed your thighs, body pushing them apart.

“You’re so beautiful.” A low, throaty groan escaped him, lips agape as he pressed a kiss against your thigh. Even your smell was intoxicating, swarming his senses like a heady tidal wave. He didn’t know where to start, but he had an idea of what he wanted.

Swallowing his bout of nervousness, Ethan continued to kiss along your leg, feeling your fingers curl into his hair. The little tugs and motions you made only served to make his heart beat faster, goosebumps coalescing along his spine. His hands curled into the waistband of your panties, inching them down your legs.

You squirmed, chest fluttering with warmth as he looked to you for consent, skin flush with scarlet. “Please, Ethan.” Your hips jolted forward, aching for his mouth, fingers — anything that he was willing to give you. “Please keep going.”

Ethan loved that — he loved hearing you beg.

He wondered what it’d be like to make you cry, perhaps toy with you, knife in-hand, make you writhe. Some sinister part of him wanted to hear you say it again, and without thinking, his mouth moved before he could comprehend anything else.

“Say it again,” Ethan urged, chest rising and falling with soft pants as he clutched at your legs. The doe-eyed expression on your countenance only added fuel to the now-raging fire, and he watched with silent glee as you let out a soft whine. “Please.”

“Ethan, please,” Without hesitation, you pleaded with him, desperate for friction — for any shred of it. Your voice rose an octave, bleeding heat from between your legs. “Please, please,” You moaned, watching the way his pupils expanded with lust. “I want you — want your mouth.”

Despite his inexperience, Ethan was prepared to follow basic instinct, palms smoothing themselves along your thighs until he held your hips. His head dipped between your thighs, tongue sluggishly swiping along your cunt, familiarizing himself with your taste.

Your back arched, stomach swirling with an excitable heat as he took his time. There was something exploratory in-nature, a desire to savor you. His cock strained against the front of his jeans when your nails gently raked themselves over his dark curls.

He shuddered with delight, ministrations lacking any haste. Ethan went slow, almost painfully so, tongue dutifully lapping at your cunt as he kneaded into your hips. The sounds that escaped you were divine — intoxicating, really.

The bass of the music thundered underneath the both of you, and any footsteps that reverberated close by were met with indifference. He was buried between your legs, lips caressing your core as he traced along your slit. Your hips jolted forward, desperate for any scrap of friction he provided.

“Ethan,” You moaned, pleasantly surprised by how eager he was. A surge of molten heat coalesced within the pit of your stomach, churning with excitement and desire. You gingerly tugged at his curls, feeling his tongue sweep over your clit. “A—Ah! Right there!”

He paused, mouth clamoring to find that sweet spot of yours, feeling you steer him in the right direction. He lapped at your clit, cock throbbing with an urgency when you whimpered. Ethan hunched forward, gently placing one of your legs on his shoulder.

Ethan felt a newfound rush of confidence, skin hot and visage flushed as he ate you out, increasing his pace and intensity. It became somewhat sloppy, a mess of tongue and desperation, aroused by the noises that escaped you and the constant pressure of your hand in his hair.

What he wouldn’t give to watch you by yourself — a picture for later, or touching you while you slept. The thought of you beneath him, begging for more, tears in your eyes — he groaned, cock straining against the front of his jeans.

His heart hammered erratically, mirroring your own galloping heartbeat as he kissed your clit, tongue messily lapping wherever he could. You squirmed again whenever he touched that sensitive clutch of nerves, slumping backwards onto the mattress.

“Fuck, you’re addicting,” Ethan groaned, and that was enough to get you to whimper. You’d never been called that before, and the way he half-whined the words himself made your hips buck forward. “So pretty.” He whispered, nearly in disbelief as he lapped at your clit.

Your stomach sloshed with molten heat, lips agape as another moan tore past your mouth. He was working wonders, nails digging into your haunch, causing goosebumps to prickle along your thighs. “I want you to use your hand.” You sighed.

Ethan knew that he wouldn’t last long himself watching you, and when you sat up, he was scarlet-faced and visibly pained. “I—I’m sorry.” It was as if his confidence had shattered completely. He was a little embarrassed about how hard he’d gotten from this, but you seemed understanding.

“Come here,” You gestured toward the empty spot next to you, and Ethan quickly sat down. Without hesitation, your hands flew to his belt, unzipping his jeans as you reached into his boxers. “Together.”

His breath hitched within his throat as he ushered you into his lap, hovering above one of his thighs. Ethan kissed you, swallowing your needy moan in the process — you could taste yourself, the lewdness of it all. He didn’t need any guidance as he slid two fingers against your slick cunt.

It was instantaneous — the both of you were catching fire, succumbing to basic instinct and desire. You began to steadily stroke along his cock, thumb caressing the tip of his erection, oozing with precum. Ethan gasped, hips stuttering as he bucked into your palm.

Your body rolled into his hand, digits sluggishly seeking your entrance. You guided him there, noticing the way his gaze had flickered from your face to your body. You whimpered when he sank his fingers into your tight heat, pistoning in and out.

A string of saliva connected your swollen lips to his, but Ethan didn’t stop kissing you. They turned from gentle and exploratory to rough and wanton, tongue briefly tangling with yours.

Between the dimly-lit, sienna glow of the room and the thrum of the bass downstairs, you were lost in his touch, floating away into the blissful taste of his mouth. He was all around you and in your blood, like the surging of the music.

You didn’t stop whatsoever, palm slick with his precum as you pumped along the length of his cock, mesmerized by that glazed, lovestruck look in his eyes. You were wonderfully naive, oblivious to the hungering darkness and obsession that rested within Ethan’s pretty stare.

“I want you.” Ethan’s voice reverberated in between strings of heated kisses, sending a wave of heat all throughout your body. There was a stark juxtaposition between the meek, inexperienced boy and the darker, deeper tone he had just now.

You felt his desire seep into your very bones, rocking atop his thigh as his digits continued to piston in and out. Ethan was content to finger-fuck you into your orgasm, thumb seeking to toy with your clit. It caused you to gasp and shiver with delight, feeling his teeth momentarily catch your lower lip.

A soft, simpering whine left you, one hand digging into the nape of his neck as the other stroked along his cock. The intensity only continued to mount, rising like the swell of a tide. Ethan’s hips began to stutter as he let out a groan of his own, cumming into your palm.

It was messy, hot and sticky in glistening tendrils across your thigh, and you were right behind him. As you sank forward, he curled his fingers just slightly, sending you into the white-hot explosion of your release. There was a newfound spot on his jeans from where you’d been moments prior.

“Shit,” He huffed, somewhat abashed about making such a mess. His curls were disheveled, flesh shimmering with perspiration, face noticeably flushed. “Ah … Sorry.” Admittedly, Ethan loved the sight of you like this, stained with his seed, but he didn’t want to scare you off.

As you recuperated, you reached for your dress, unable to bite back the smitten smile on your features. “It’s okay,” You giggled. “I thought it was hot.” You confessed, using the spare t-shirt in your purse to clean yourself up. Something to throw in the washer, later.

Ethan blushed, clamoring to zip his jeans up as you shimmied back into your panties and dress. He noticed you struggling with the zipper towards the small of your back. “You need some help?” He asked, voice unusually soft as he stepped closer.

“Thank you,” The gesture was sweet, something that you didn’t expect. Regardless, you let him zip you back up, noticing the way he’d simply lingered close by as you buckled your heels around your ankles. “I should get going. I’m sure my friends are wondering where I am.”

“Wait,” Ethan’s hands involuntarily flew toward your hips, gently pulling you close. “I want to see you again.” Even if he had duplicitous methods of getting your phone number, he wanted this to be organic.

“Okay,” Despite having a hookup in the empty room of a frat house, you did want to see him again, too. He was painfully sweet — and that was hard to come by. “I want to see you again, too. Here.”

You wrote your number down on the cardboard chest-plate of his knight costume. He said he left his phone back at the dormitory — and you came prepared with the half-dried ink pen wasting away in the bottom of your purse.

By the time you and Ethan made it back out to the party, he was being hauled away by his friends, and you had found your group again.

If he had it his way, the next time you’d see him, you’d be at the end of his knife.

#slasher x reader #slasher x you #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x you #ethan landry smut #ghostface x reader #ghostface x you #ethan landry fanfiction #slasher fanfiction #slasher fanfic #slasher fandom #slasher x y/n #scream fanfiction #scream

[gaysindistress]

When Night Comes - one

Summary: Who would win in a staring contest? New York’s resident mob boss and master of the side eye Bucky Barnes or the daycare teacher who really wants to go home and smoke?

pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x reader

warnings: mob!Bucky because he is his own warning, probs only cursing this chapter

word count: 2.1K

masterlist

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on Google/Pinterest

“Hey I need your help out front,” Jessica wearily asks as she pops her head into the classroom door. The other woman who’s sitting on the jungle carpet with the kids nods her head and stands up, kids clinging to her arm as she does so. 

“What’s up?” she asks, shaking off the monkey children, “I need you guys to go sit on the carpet. I need to talk to Ms. Jessica.”

The kids run back to the group before Jessica explains, “There’s a man here to pick up Wyatt but I don’t recognize him and he’s not showing any ID. I figured with who his parents are, you might want to check it out.”

“Bruh you’ve got to be kidding me. Get a picture of him and his car and don’t let any of the kids out of the room until I come back. I’m getting real sick of this shit,” the mental exhaustion of running a daycare, let alone one with high-profile clients, rips her apart most days.

Another kid comes running up to the two women, complaining about how annoying her brother is being, “Ms. Jessica, Ms. Sunny, Mason won’t leave me alone. He keeps pinching me.”

Jessica takes over the situation and leads the little girl back towards the carpet, asking her what she did to try and stop him while the other woman, Ms. Sunny, leaves to handle the rather broody-looking man at the school’s front doors. His jaw is locked in a permanently clenched state, no doubt causing tension but also creating a killer resting bitch face. He’s looking down at his phone and doesn’t notice that she’s in the lobby with him until she clears her throat. 

“I’m here for Wyatt,” he fumbles to put his phone away when he looks up at her. 

“Can I see your ID please?” she asks, coming to stand in between him and the hallway leading toward the classroom. 

“No.”

She flashes a very fake smile and crosses her arms over her chest, “Unfortunately it’s our policy; I can’t release a child into someone’s care unless I know who they are or I see their ID to confirm they’re on the approved adult list. So if I can’t see your ID then I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“Just call Steve,” his jaw twitches as his frustration grows. 

“I can once I see your ID.”

“You don’t need to see my ID. Just call Steve and bring out Wyatt.”

She scratches at the corner of her eye in annoyance, “I’m about 30 seconds from calling the police on you for attempted kidnapping. You may either leave or show me your ID, it’s really not that hard.”

When he puts his hands on his hips, metal flashes from under his coat in an attempt to scare her into submission but all she does is let out a breathy laugh at the lame attempt. This only frustrates him even more and he digs into his pocket to retrieve his phone to make a call while giving her the staredown. Being an unbothered queen, she flashes him another sarcastic smile when he gives her a particularly nasty look. The kids are going wild in the classroom, screams and laughter echoing through the hallway and into the lobby. Another man gets out of the SUV the first man no doubt arrived in and raps harshly on the school’s glass door. A black hoodie peaks out from under the leather jacket he’s wearing, giving him a softer look than the other man who’s in a full suit. If she didn’t know better, she would’ve assumed that he was the lackey and the first man is the boss but she does and resists rolling her eyes when she pushes open the door for him. 

“Thank you, Doll,” his honey voice coats her ears as he slides past her, “What seems to be the problem?”

“This asshole here wouldn’t let me see his ID and was being rude, demanding that I just bring out Wyatt,” she’s dropped the kind daycare teacher act at this point and falls back into her normal personality and word bank. 

“Is that true, Scott?” the honey-voiced man asks Scott, turning his head to look at him. 

“Maybe if she wasn’t being such a bit…”

He cut him off with a stern look, “I’m going to stop you right there. We don’t call women names even if they are true. Now apologize to her and go to the car.”

Scott mumbles a very curt and snarky apology to her and shoves the door open, storming off like a child. She lets out a deep sigh, watching him leave before looking at the other man whose eyes haven’t left her, “I still need to see your ID.”

“Of course,” he pulls his wallet from his back pocket and flips it open to hand her the card. 

She glances over it and hands it back, “Thank you, Mr. Barnes. Wyatt will be right out and next time you come to pick him up, please come in yourself or have the Rogers add the asshat to the list. I really don’t enjoy arguing with a man-child when I have a classroom full of better-behaved kids.”

Mr. Barnes chuckles and nods to show he’s in agreement, “Scott could use a lesson or two in manners. I’ll make sure he won’t bother you again.”

Wyatt comes bounding out of the classroom, backpack hanging off one shoulder and half-finished coloring pages fisted in his hands. He breaks into a sprint when he spots his uncle crouching down with arms wide open and nearly tackles him to the ground. 

“Uncle Bucky!” he shouts when he jumps into Bucky’s arms.

“Hey buddy, how was your day?”

“Look at what I made,” Wyatt shoves the coloring pages into Bucky’s face with excitement, “Ms. Sunny helped me.”

Bucky’s eyes rake up her form before making intense eye contact with her, a small smirk on his plump lips, “Is that so? Why don’t you say goodbye to Ms. Sunny?”

Wyatt launches himself at her legs, rapidly saying his goodbyes. She smiles down at him, “Have a good night, home slice. We’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

He runs back to his uncle and takes his hand as Bucky pushes the door open to leave. He pauses and sends Wyatt to the car so he can get one last word in with the daycare teacher. 

“I really am sorry for the confusion earlier. Let me make it up to you.”

“Yeah come in yourself next time,” she scoffs, spinning to go back to the classroom. 

“How about dinner?” he calls after her, freezing her just before she gets to the room. 

“Are you seriously asking me out?”

He shrugs his shoulders, a smirk growing even wider, “Are you saying yes?”

She doesn’t give him the satisfaction of answering and disappears into the classroom, leaving him chuckling to himself. It’s not the first time they’ve met, having seen each other in passing when he picks up Wyatt but this is certainly the first time he’s actually talked to her. She’s not surprised that he decided to flirt with her; he is, after all, the king of New York and known as the Flirt of Brooklyn. Even though the kids call her Ms. Sunny, she’s a far cry from her nickname and is unamused by his behavior. He’s going to have to try harder than that to get under her skin or take her out. 

Jessica quickly gets up from the teacher’s desk when Sunny comes back in, “Everything go okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she waves Jessica off, “It ended up being Wyatt’s uncle who sent in his bodyguard. I told him that he needed to come in himself like he had been doing so hopefully I won’t have to call Mom and Dad. You know how Mr. Rogers gets when we call him.”

“Oh yeah, I wouldn’t get them involved unless it again,” Jessica agrees but her face lights up at the mention of the uncle, “Oh my god it was Bucky Barnes?”

This time she can’t stop her eyes from rolling on their own, “Yes it was. Jesus, what is it with you and every other woman who works here?”

“Um did you even look at him? He’s like super hot and rich, who wouldn't want a piece of that ass?”

“Ok language, we have little ears,” Sunny whispers to her over-excited coworker, “Also he’s a criminal so there’s that.”

“Which makes him even hotter. You’re telling me that you didn’t feel something down there?”

“Jessica!” The woman smiles devilishly at her, awaiting her answer.

“No, and the whole bad boy thing is the worst trope I’ve ever heard of.”

“I’ll bet you anything that after one more interaction with him and you’ll be gossiping right along with us,” Jessica winks at her as she waltzes away to go help one of the kids with their project. 

“Oh Sunny,” Jessica’s sing-song voice calls out as she walks down the hallway to the classroom. From her spot at the teacher’s desk, she can hear just how excited Jessica is by how she’s practically running down the hallway. She bursts into the room, two drinks in hand and various bags hanging off her arms. 

“I come bearing gifts,” she puts the drinks on the desk whilst dropping her bags to the ground, “A chai with almond milk and cinnamon. Also, I have a favor to ask of you.”

Sunny takes the boiling chai into her cold hands and sighs at the warmth it brings as she listens to the favor, “Thank you, my dear. I’m all ears.”

“So,” she begins, shoving off her leather jacket, “my friend is having a kickback this weekend and I need you to come with me.”

“Why?”

“Because I want you to be there.”

Leaning back in the creaky chair, Sunny gives her a disapproving look, “Hm you said need.”

“Can’t it both?” Jessica’s black hair falls forward over her shoulders as she moves to rest her arms on the desk, “Either way I would really really appreciate it if you came with me.”

“You still haven’t told me why.”

“The guy I've been talking to on and off for like months now is going to be there and I could really use a wing woman.” 

“Girl, what do you need a wing woman for?”

Jessica scoffs, dramatically spinning away, “He’s so fucking dry over text but in person, he’s like a totally different person. I need someone to flirt with him a little and see if he’s really just that way or if he’s just not interested in me.”

Sunny mulls over the thought, sipping away at the devilishly hot coffee in her hands. Going to a kickback would be fun but flirting with people, let alone talking to people isn’t something that she enjoys or wants to do on her time off. 

“What do I get out of it?”

Flashing the best smile she can, Jessica pleads with her, “A lifelong friendship. Please please please come with me.”

“How big is this kickback going to be?”

“Like 50 people tops.”

Her jaw drops in shock, “50? As in five zero?”

“Yes,” Jessica says sheepishly, dropping herself onto a tiny table meant for their kids. 

“That’s not a kickback. That’s a whole ass house party. Kickbacks are maybe 10 people, not five times that.”

“I promise it’ll be so low-key that you won’t even notice. I’ll pay for the Uber, drinks, whatever, just come with me please.”

“ You do realize how inappropriate it is for a director to hang out with a teacher let alone go to a house party, right?” Sunny asks, setting her coffee down and checking the time to make sure they have enough time to hash out the details before the kids arrive. 

“No one will find out. Your bosses don’t even check on us that often. I highly doubt they’re going to find out you went to a friend’s house for some drinks.”

“You underestimate their ability to royally fuck me over,” her alarm goes off to let her know that it’s 7 am and parents are about to start showing up, “I’ll go BUT you’re paying for everything and I reserve the right to leave whenever I want and you have to come with me.”

“Oh my god! Yes yes yes thank you so much, Sunny you’re a lifesaver,” Jessica jumps up in glee and throws her arms around Sunny who had gotten up to open the school doors, “We’re going to have so much fun!

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #mob au #mob!bucky #mob!bucky barnes imagine #mob!bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes and reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #when night comes - bucky barnes #vampire!bucky #vampire bucky barnes #vampire!bucky x reader #vampire au

[luminetti]

𝑶𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒅𝒖𝒆 𝑨𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒔𝒚 ༺♡༻ Chapter 1

༘⋆ Summary: In the world of Faerûn, a new season of love begins for the upper echelons in the nation's capital Baldur’s Gate, gathering a plethora of unwed Lords and Ladies from across the nation. For Miss y/n Neredras, the season only promises another disappointing series of suitors and failed courting, until one night she suddenly finds Lord Gale Dekarios of Waterdeep on her doorstep with a gunshot wound through his stomach, seeking discreet refuge and recovery after a devastating duel. ༘⋆ Pairing: lord!gale dekarios x fem!reader/tav, brief wyll x reader, mentions of (previous) mystra x gale ༘⋆Warnings: blood and bullet wounds, eventual hurt/comfort, mystra's weird predatory behavior (fuck mystra) ༘⋆Notes: set in the regency era and very loosely inspired by bridgerton (I’ve never watched it). i had to make a lot of edits to make this work out how i want so keep in mind that the following changes have been made: - Faerûn and Waterdeep are neighboring countries - Baldur’s Gate is the capital of Faerûn - Mystra (and all the gods) is human - Mystra lives in Waterdeep - Gale is 21 and reader is around 19 (something something, regency age for marriage, something)

༘⋆ Chapters: ┆[1] ┆[2]┆[3]┆[4]┆[5]┆[6] ┆[7] ┆

ao3

You cursed yourself for getting in such a position as you heaved a bloodied body onto your goose down bed sheets, dark sticky crimson clinging to your skin and the front of your white nightgown. The body landed with a soft flump, leaving a suspicious looking trail of blood towards the center of your bed. Normally you were against opening the door for strange men in the middle of the night, but a gunshot wound to the stomach usually prohibited acts of violence, unless the attacker wanted to bleed out to death, so you deemed it safe enough. You made sure to grab a fire poker from the fireplace on your way back from the medicine cabinet, just in case.

Blood was beginning to pool underneath the man, signaling that if you were to do anything, it had to be done with haste. Fighting back a gag at the tangy metal aroma, you undid his vest and undershirt, pulling it off and discarding it somewhere on the floor. The bullet had thankfully wedged itself near the surface of his flesh making it an easy grab with a pair of tweezers. The wound itself proved to be more of a challenge. Stitches were required to stop the bleeding, but the needle slipped around between your fingers, and attempting to wipe the slick blood off your hands just made more of a mess. After a bit of adjusting, and a lot of wiping, you finally managed a messy line of seven uneven stitches.

For the first time in the past half hour, the thumping of your heartbeat began to fade from your ears, allowing you to process what had just happened.

You took a moment to look him over. He looked around your age. Around twenty– no, twenty-one? It was hard to tell with so much hair in his face. From what you could make out, he appeared to be a reasonably attractive man. Perhaps a bit unkempt, you thought, but as to be expected at this time of night. With his chestnut brown hair, he vaguely reminded you of Clyde, your childhood dog. Though intended as a compliment, you made a mental note to keep that one to yourself when–if ever–he awoke. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep that was drawing you to the curve of his jawline, but with a start, you realize you had been staring for far too long. Blinking away your daydreams, you see the scene in front of you as it truly is.

There was a body in your bed.

You frantically reach over the bed to press two fingers firmly against his neck, feeling around for a pulse. Was he even still alive? A slow and faint periodical throb against your fingertips pulls a heavy sigh of relief out of your weary body, and you slump against the side of the bed. Thank the gods.

Unfortunately, the fact he was alive did not solve the strange-man-in-bed issue. Once he had been securely wrapped in several layers of bandages–any more and he may appear mummified–you weren’t sure what else there was to do. So, you recruited the only person in the household that could keep their mouth shut. Your older sister, Euphemia. 

“By Jove, sister… you’ve killed a man…” Euphemia looked pale-faced and wide eyed in horror at the seemingly lifeless body and blood adorning your room.

“Stop it.” You hissed under your breath, closing the bedroom door behind her. “He’s not dead. And would you keep your voice down?”

Euphemia looked from you to the body, then to your crimson hands and nightgown. “Are you to tell me he is… sleeping?” She asked, incredulously, her voice quavering.

You sighed, exasperated. You grabbed her wrist, much to her resistance, and forcefully pressed her fingers against his neck. “There. He is very much alive. Now will you please help me?” 

Your sister sighed in relief. “Gods… He looks mauled.” She eyed your butchered stitchings. “Not a slight on your abilities, of course. Spoken from a place of love.”

“Mock me all you want when we break fast, sister.” You toss her a wet washcloth. “As for now, make haste and wipe down the headboard. I’ll deal with the floor.”

“I merely jest.” She replied, rounding the bed beside the body.

As she approached the unconscious man, she froze, the cloth in her hand dropped to the ground as you heard a sharp intake of breath. Startled, you jump up from your knees.

“Hells, are you hurt?” You turned, expecting to see a splinter or bruise. Alas, Euphemia just stood shell shocked, staring down towards the body. You looked at the man yourself, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

Euphemia leaned closer to the body and swept the hair from his face. “I’ve seen this man’s portrait before.” She crouched beside him, studying his features. “It was in a museum of art from other nations.” Closing her eyes, she recounted the museum. “It was a family portrait. So this must be…” Euphemia turned back to you, mystified. “The Viscount of Waterdeep.”

You stared at her. “...Who?”

“The Viscount, Lord Gale Dekarios.”

✣ ✣ ✣

The rest of the night–technically the early morning–passed surprisingly peacefully, with the only hiccup being a lack of bed space. Euphemia made sure to chide you thoroughly for even suggesting that she take Gale to her room instead. In your defense, he had a larger bed than yours. After some back and forth, Euphemia declared that she’d be ruined if someone found her alone with a foreign Viscount, and her hopes of being courted would be gone. You, however, were newer to the season and very much single–which she didn’t hesitate to enunciate–and therefore could afford a scandal or two.

Cursing her under your breath, you reluctantly slipped under the covers, a good sixteen inches apart from the supposed Viscount. Despite everything, you easily drift off into a sound sleep.

A sudden shift in the bed startles you awake. Groggily, you sat up to see early morning sunrays softly beaming through your windows. Your mind clouds with exhaustion as you attempt to recall the night prior. In your fatigue you barely manage to picture a sharp jawline and soft brown hair. A dream, you conclude. Just another fantasy to forget about. You were about to lean back down when you heard the soft squeak of your bed spring from beside you, followed by a hushed murmur.

“Shit.”

Turning towards the voice, you came face to face with a pair of warm chestnut eyes, staring straight back at you. Lord Gale Dekarios–very much not from a dream–stood with one knee on your bed and his other foot on your floor, attempting to leave without a sound. His face was tense with pain and his hand pressed over the wet bandages covering his wound.

You made no move to stop him, merely watching as he gawked at you dumbstruck like a child with his hand trapped in a cookie jar. “What are you doing?” you asked.

It was as if you had two heads with the way he stared at you.

“My deepest apologies for the intrusion last night,” he managed to stammer out, quickly collecting himself and beginning to stand from the bed. “By Jove, I will leave right away-”

“Why?” You cut him off.

He choked out a confused sputter. “Pardon?”

You gestured to his bloodied bandages. “You are injured. Are you not?”

His eyes flicked to the wound before returning to your questioning gaze. “I am.” He replied, slowly.

“So sit. Unless you mean to walk home.” Standing from the bed, you scoured the room for the remainder of the bandages you brought from before.

Gale hesitantly perched himself on the edge of your bed frame, unsure how to proceed. After a couple moments of watching you flit around the room, he cleared his throat. “Pray tell, which residence am I in the company of?”

Upon gathering the materials and medicines, you sat across from him, laying out the paraphernalia in between you both. “This is the Neredras Manor,” you replied, beginning to work on replacing his dark, oxidized bandages.

From up close you could finally make out his facial features in detail. His jawline was as you remembered, but his hair was finger-combed back against his neck, almost brushing against his shoulders. His atmosphere had changed as well. Despite his grim injuries, a warm feeling surrounded him, almost like an aura of liveliness. You leaned into him, passing the bundle of old bandages around his body as you unwrapped. In such close proximity you just barely manage to make out faint traces of spicy cinnamon, crisp parchment, and freshly lit firewood.

You froze and pulled back sharply. You had completely forgotten yourself. He hadn’t noticed, had he? You glanced up briefly, only to be immediately met by chestnut eyes that bore into you with a thousand-yard stare, and lips ever so slightly muttering to himself as if he was lost in thought. 

“...Pretty.” Gale whispered, barely intelligible.

“What?”

Upon realizing you were staring right back at him, he quickly averted his eyes, finally breaking out of his stupor. “Sorry?” He cleared his throat, struggling to meet your gaze.

“Pretty?” You repeated, confused.

Gale sputtered, seemingly caught off guard before a look of mortified realization crossed his features. “Morning,” he declared abruptly. “Y-You are morning.” He paused. “I mean, it is morning.” He paused again. “I mean, It is a pretty morning,” he finally managed, eyes settling back on yours as a pale flush of pink crept up his neck, threatening to wrap around his cheeks.

You attempted to raise the back of your palm to feel his forehead, concerned, only to be intercepted by Gale as he caught your wrist and brought it back down to your lap.

“I assure you, I am perfectly well,” he took a deep breath, composing himself. “And usually better at this.” He added, pressing a customary kiss to the back of your hand. “All this and you don’t even know my name.”

“Well, actually–” you began.

“Gale Dekarios,” he vaunted, chest almost puffed, and you swear you’ve seen images of birds of paradise performing similar moves during a mating dance. Knowing he was a Viscount made the visual match far too well and you failed to stifle a chortle.

“Pleased to make your–” Gale faltered slightly at your reaction. “Did I do something?”

Struggling to pull yourself together, you shake your head breathlessly. “No, it’s nothing. It’s just, I know who you are already.” 

He looked puzzled. “You do?”

Nodding, you let out a deep breath, overcoming your brief laughing fit. “My older sister is quite the socialite. She recognized you from your portrait.”

From his impressed expression, you caught yourself wondering if they would be a good match. Euphemia was always fond of the idea of marrying a Viscount, like your mother had, not to mention she was up to date on all the drama of the ton.

An unfamiliar sensation twisted in your gut, unnoticeable until you focused on it. You hadn’t had breakfast yet so it was likely just hunger. But strangely, this hunger was creeping up from your stomach, almost residing in your chest with a faint pang.

You stood up sharply, pushing down the strange feelings. “You must be hungry, my Lord.”

Gale’s eyes flicked around your face, almost as if he was studying you. “I could eat,” he finally spoke. “And please, just Gale.”

Nodding quickly, you turned on your heel and briskly left your room, closing the door behind you. The twinge in your chest finally simmered, leaving your cheeks slightly flushed and blood nearly warm. You let yourself fall against your door, breathing deeply.

Suitors had come and gone before, and once he healed, Gale Dekarios would be nothing more than a man you met for a day.

#gale dekarios x reader #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 gale #bg3 x tav #gale dekarios x tav #gale of waterdeep #gale x reader #alternate universe #bg3 #bg3 x reader #gale dekarios #wizard of waterdeep #regency #tav bg3 #gale x tav #gale romance #regency au

[onceuponastory]

i've got you - bucky barnes x reader

Plot: Bucky has another nightmare. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader Warnings: Mentions of nightmares, Bucky's past trauma and how he blames and hates himself for what he did, basically everything that he did as The Winter Soldier and had done to him by HYDRA is a warning in this, but specifically the mind wiping, murder/death and shooting. As always, if I miss any triggers, please let me know. Notes: This is my piece for @flufftober Day 1: "I've Got You." I saw this quote and just knew it fit Bucky x Reader so well. Not beta'd, so any mistakes are my own.

Late one night, Y/N and Bucky are fast asleep in their Brooklyn apartment. Everything is still and quiet. Until Bucky starts to murmur in his sleep, tossing and turning as he starts to dream. Memories from the last seventy decades flash through his mind. The train, being found by HYDRA, his arm being replaced…. “No.” He whispers. “Stop.” But the memories continue. And now, he's seeing his time as the Winter Soldier. This time, Bucky is powerless. He can only watch on, unable to intervene.

The Winter Soldier’s standing in front of someone, another faceless victim, watching as they beg for their life. He's lost count of the lives he destroyed and the people he killed. This is just one of many. Ever since he escaped HYDRA’s control, Bucky’s been trying hard to make amends and forget what happened to him. 

But unfortunately for him, his mind has other ideas.

“Please, don’t hurt me.” The person begs. But the soldier doesn’t listen, and raises his gun. “No! Please!” Their voice is more panicked now, begging and screaming for him to stop. Bucky can feel himself reaching out, as if he’s trying to stop himself from making the same mistakes he did. Yet no matter how hard he tries, Bucky can’t stop himself… and the Winter Soldier pulls the trigger. 

Bucky gasps, jolting awake. The room is silent… aside from the pounding in his chest. He grips the bedsheet for dear life, so tightly his knuckles turn white. Sweat drips from his forehead, and a few strands of his hair cling to it. He’s a monster, regardless of how much he tries to change. That’s what his dream was trying to tell him. He still hears the screams of the innocent people he killed. Even now, when he’s awake. And he can see the face of Alexander Pierce, looming down at him before he gets wiped again. Bucky’s body tenses, and he shuts his eyes tightly, trying to block everything out.

He’s ready to deal with this alone. Like he always does. Like he was trained to do. In a way, it’s for his own self protection. This way, nobody else can see how fucked up he is.

But then, there’s a different voice speaking into the darkness. 

“Bucky?” Y/N moans, rubbing her eyes as she wakes up. The sudden sound of her voice almost makes Bucky jump. “What’s going on?” She moves her hand over to Bucky’s side of the bed, feeling nothing but empty space. When she sees him sitting there, gripping the sheet, her eyes widen with concern, and her voice softens as she realises what’s happened. “Oh.” She scoots over to him, gently wrapping her arm across his trembling body and pulling him closer to her. “It’s okay. I’ve got you, I’m here. It was just a nightmare.” She soothes, her voice full of comfort and compassion.

The first night Bucky woke up screaming, haunted by memories of his past, his body aching with the decades of pain and torture HYDRA inflicted on him, Y/N was shocked. But more than anything, Y/N felt horrible for Bucky - that someone had put him through something so traumatic and that he was so haunted by it. But it also made a horrible pit of guilt form deep inside her. No matter how hard she tries, she can’t take all this pain away from him, or even reverse the clock and stop everything that HYDRA did to him. Being unable to stop his pain is the worst feeling in the world. So instead, she does the next best thing. She makes sure that Bucky knows she’s there for him whenever he needs her. Even if he’s on a mission and in a completely different time zone and needs to call her, she’ll always pick up no matter what. Her love for Bucky is unwavering, and she’ll always be there for him.

Especially tonight. “It was… it was….” Bucky speaks, close to hyperventilating. “Shh…shh…. It’s okay.” Y/N tells him reassuringly, tenderly kissing his temple. “You don’t have to tell me anything.” Bucky grabs her hand, squeezing onto it for dear life. Like she’s his rock, stopping him from being swept out into sea. In a way, she is. Or at least, she's the one stopping him from falling deeper into a pit of despair and self loathing. “Just take deep breaths with me, okay Bucky? In and out, match my breathing.” Bucky does as she says, keeping a tight grasp on her hand as he does. 

And soon, he slowly starts to feel a little better. “You should go back to sleep. I’m sorry.” He murmurs. “I woke you up again.” Y/N shakes her head, kissing his temple once more.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” She tells him. “I told you, I’m here for you. I’ve got you.”

“I don’t deserve you.” He whispers, and her heart breaks right there. Of course, she could never truly know what it’s like to go through something like Bucky did, and how much guilt and pain he must be feeling right now. “I deserve to go through this alone. I’m a monster.” His voice cracks.

But Y/N just wants him to stop punishing himself for things that weren’t his fault, and understand that he’s a victim too. “No you’re not a monster. You never were. It’s not your fault.” She whispers. “You’re a good person, Bucky.” Another kiss, this time to his cheek. “You never have to be alone again. I’m right here.”

“Thank you for sticking by me. For making me feel like more than I am.” He manages a small smile at that, a welcome relief to Y/N. “I love you… so damn much.”

“Of course I would. I’ll always be here for you, Bucky.” She smiles. “I love you too.”

They sit together for a while, with Bucky still in Y/N’s comforting embrace. He feels so safe and happy when he’s around her, and he’s so grateful that the universe sent her to him. She’s his one good thing after everything that happened to him, and all the pain he’s caused. He glances over at her, watching as she rubs his back.

Maybe she’s right. Maybe he doesn’t have to do this alone anymore. He leans over, cupping her cheeks and kissing her softly. Bucky knows he has a long way to go with his healing, but Y/N’s support motivates him to be better, to be the man she deserves. With a smile, she gives his hand another squeeze. “We’re in this together.” She whispers.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

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#flufftober2023 #day 1 #marvel cinematic universe #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fic #bucky imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fanfic #bucky fanfiction #marvel oneshot #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #bucky one shot #bucky barnes oneshot

[moris-auri]

Diamonds on the water

Summary: As one of Queen Alicent's ladies, she went undetected, a shadow at the back of the Green Queen. Most of the time. That is until she caught the eye of the Queen’s One-Eyed son. 

What happened after, well no one would ever truly know, would they? 

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x unnamed 

Word count: 4k

Warnings: NSFW 18+, oral (m receiving), smut, slight age difference, sub!Aemond, minor spit kink, praise kink, overstim, teasing, fingering, use of she/her, angst, spoilers for Fire and Blood (A Song of Ice and Fire)

A/N; just a little something i came up with at 4 am, and i hope whoever reads it likes it :)

The sun began to lower, dragging a slow trail down the sky as it was obscured behind the clouds, but not before it cast a glow onto the stones, rising just far up enough to catch on the Queen’s rich auburn hair, igniting the curls into a halo that framed her face.

Alicent let out a sigh of relief, the tension plaguing her fading bit by bit. “You have a healer’s hands," she said gratefully, the furrowed lines of her face smoothing as her eyes closed, a deeper sigh leaving her mouth.

She had quickly risen to the coveted position of being the Queen’s confidant and main handmaid after Talya had vanished in the dead of night. Her past was of little consequence in this place, and despite the curiosity of the other servants, she intended to keep it that way.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” she murmured, placing the bottle of scented oil back down after rubbing it into her temples and stepping away. Alicent smiled at her, brief and half-distracted, as she was more often than not, ruling the kingdom in her ailing husband’s stead. "Is that all, my Queen?" she asked quietly.

"Yes, thank you, my dear. You may go." Rising from the chair, Alicent Hightower nodded, that same distant smile on her mouth.  

“Of course, Your Grace.” She bowed her head, snuffing all but one candle on her way out. She had barely taken a step or two past the door when the faint taps of the heel of a boot sounded behind her. 

"Wait," a voice rang out behind her. Her skin prickled as she froze, skirts twisting around her legs as she spun around, eyes alighting on the tall figure of the Queen’s second son. 

“Prince Aemond,” she acknowledged, brow furrowing, curious as to what he was doing out here at this hour, more often than not breaking his fast with his mother, before or after he trained with Ser Criston.

Anxiousness slithered up her throat, knowing full well what happened if someone were to stumble across them. The knowledge that despite her status as the Queen’s lady, her word was nothing compared to his. The scores of other serving women who had left, all after having an unfortunate encounter with the Queen's eldest son proof of this.

His good eye focused on her, unsettling enough to make the hairs on the back of her neck rise. 

“You are attending my mother late,” his voice reverberated off the stone walls as he spoke quietly. “Is she well?” She nodded, glancing backwards.

"She is," she said, carefully keeping her voice low. He hummed in response, casting his eye over her head as he scanned the corridor behind her. 

She stiffened as his eye locked on her once more, the previously impassive expression he seemed to wear day in and day out changing to something a hairsbreadth more smug. 

Her uneasiness returned the longer he stayed silent, searching her face for something. She blinked in surprise as instead of speaking, he slid past her, the smell of smoke clinging to his clothes, wafting under her nose as his arm brushed hers, letting out a sigh of relief as she watched him slink into his mother’s chambers. 

A day passed. Then two, her days a loop of the same over and over, their encounter slipping from her mind as she attended to the Queen. 

The ratty, worn book slithered from her grasp, falling to the side as her head jolted, a pain forming in her neck, gaze fixed on the door, another rap sounding, a low muffled voice slipping under the bottom. She was thankful for the lateness, the darkness obscuring the color in her cheeks as the guard led her through the empty corridors, the directions he took as familiar to her as the back of her hand. 

Dread began to coil in her, settling like a stone low in her stomach. She didn’t look twice at the nameless guard in Targaryen heraldry as she stepped past him into the bedchamber, the lock of the door as loud as thunder as it closed behind her. 

"You summoned me," she said flatly. 

His head turned towards her as he let out a hum in the back of his throat but made no move to stand, turning his eye back on the flames dancing in the hearth, “I did.” 

“At the Hour of the Bat,” she retorted, the tension in her back loosening slightly as the fear of discovery lessened. "Could it not wait?'

"No," he said, letting out another low noise. An amused twist formed on his lips, fingers spread wide on the pages of the book balanced on his leg. 

Her ire grew, his silence only making her more agitated. She clasped her hands behind her, eyes moving around his chamber curiously. It was richly decorated, the walls covered by tapestry after tapestry, all of them having a dragon somewhere. Bookshelves sat along one wall, filled with the spines of books in a multitude of darker colors. Her eyes flicked lastly to his desk, situated halfway under one of the wide windows, the full moon illuminating the items scattered across the surface. 

“What do you want, my Prince?” she gritted out, subtly shifting on the balls of her feet.

“I have a request,” he finally spoke, his tone short and clipped. "If you would hear it," he set his book to the side, unfolding himself as he stood.

She watched as he moved closer, a gleam in her eyes, feeling like a cat did after trapping a mouse underfoot. Her eyes slid over him, taking in the painstakingly carved dragons pinned to the high collar of his tunic, going lower and lower till they fell on his boots, just as richly made as the rest of his clothing. 

“Oh?”

He swallowed, drumming his fingers against his legs, a flicker of something igniting in his eye. Self-doubt, most like. 

"I know of the acts," he started, drawing her attention back to his face. “Between a man and woman, but-” 

"But not the act itself,” she finished, wariness returning. “You want to learn," she said calmly, keeping her expression blank, “And you want me to teach you.” 

A small part of her, one that she had pushed and buried in the deepest recesses rose again, her shame clashing with her pride and her disgust battling with her curiosity. 

“Yes.”  

Her face betrayed nothing of the thoughts whirling inside her head, knowing full well the consequences, “My position-” 

“Will not be affected,” he assured solemnly. 

Her eyes darted over his face, not believing him for a second. 

“Of course,” she swallowed, moving the few quick steps needed to reach the jug of wine that sat on the table situated in the corner, pouring the dark liquid into two separate cups, "Tell me,” she said as she handed one to him, her fingers brushing his, “What do you know of a woman's pleasure?" her gaze centered on his face, studying him. 

“Very little,” he admitted stiffly, biting his cheek. He clenched the cup tighter, knuckles going white around the base of it. 

He didn't lift his head, eye focused on the contents swirling in his cup.

"It is an art, the pleasure a woman can bring to a man. And a man to a woman," she murmured, letting out a low hum as she reached out to run her fingers over his hair, the firelight outlining him in bright tones of yellow and orange and red. 

“You only have to know where to look. What books to leaf through,” she dragged her hand down the length of his arm, the leather of his tunic soft and well worn and supple under her palm. The warm tones only added to his almost otherworldly beauty in a way she was wholly unaccustomed to. His bright silver hair draped over his shoulders, pale as snow against the black of his overcoat and a sole violet eye that tracked her movements with an unnerving, almost predatory precision.

His eye widened, a flush rising along the ridge of his cheekbones, disappearing underneath his collar. 

"I've no taste for depravity-" his sharp protest faded when she nipped at the shell of his ear, slowly unwinding his belt from around his slim hips.

"Is that what you think it is? Depravity and sin and lust?" She burst into laughter, unable to help herself. 

He clearly was not amused, face twisted in fury as he stared at her, taking her laughter as nothing more than a mockery of him.

"On the Street of Silk, yes, but here…." she batted his hands away when he tried to redo the belt loop, the back of her hand brushing against the front of his breeches; she let his belt fall to his feet, "There is more to it than that. Much more." 

She left him at that, seeing the first flickerings of dawn beginning to push past the dark, not wanting to get caught in the rush of servants who would be rising soon, sending a wicked smile his way as she glanced at him from over her shoulder, his eye boring into her skin as she slipped out the door.

Like a spider that had ensnared some hapless insect in its web, the Prince seemed drawn to her by a nearly invisible string. As if the gods themselves smiled down at them, his nightly summons went unnoticed, always at the time when the castle was pitch dark, those who resided behind the red stones laying asleep and oblivious in their beds. 

Alone in his chambers, the tension that seemed to radiate throughout him during the times he stood with his mother and his siblings all but disappeared, snuffed out like a blown out flame as he let her have control over him, their roles reversed in the quiet darkness of his rooms. 

"Do you trust me?" Prince Aemond nodded, jerking his head up and down, "Good," she praised, moving with a languid, easy grace, she reached behind her and curled the laces of her gown around her finger, pulling them till the garment pooled around her ankles. 

Her chemise followed, leaving her bare to his gaze. He let out a low noise in the back of his throat, the color that had been in his cheeks spreading to the tips of his ears. He swallowed thickly, shifting on his feet, his discomfort plain at the praise, not knowing what to make of it.  

“Pretty, pretty boy,” she crooned, making his breath catch and his eye widen. 

She stepped closer to him, hearing the halt and catch of his breath. Color flooded his cheeks, rich and dark against the paleness of his skin. She pressed her mouth to his softly, tangling her fingers in his hair, her grip gentle yet firm. 

He groaned against her mouth, his hands rising to dig into her sides. 

"Ah, ah-" she chided, pressing her fingers against his mouth, "I did not say you could touch me yet, did I?" 

His eye narrowed as he bit his lip, chest rising and falling rapidly, his eye nearly black with lust, eye as wild as she’d ever seen it. 

Barely a minute later his lips sought hers again, his other hand sliding up to tangle in her hair. 

His cock lay against his thigh, already half-hard and weeping, drops of pre-cum beading at the tip of it, "Will you listen to me now?" 

His breath grew heavier as he gasped, eye squeezing shut, "Yes," he gasped out, pupil blown wide. 

He cursed, some half rasped phrase that she knew without a doubt would leave his mother horrified.

"Good boy," she released him, trailing her fingers up his body; curling a hand around his jaw, she tilted his head up, "Open," he obeyed almost instantly, throat bobbing as he swallowed, unraveling further under her. She tilted her head, teasing him more as she dragged her cunt over his cock. “Do you pray?” she rasped, dragging her hips up and back down against him, the sharp lines of the bones flush under his skin digging into her flesh. 

“Kessa-” he gasped, slipping into Old Valyrian effortlessly as he bucked his hips upwards. 

She had never heard the language before. It tumbled from his mouth, low and rasping and breathless, pretty, even, when he spoke it. 

“What do you pray for?” she grinned down at him. She could feel everything, from the sweat that dripped down the back of her neck to the ache between her thighs. “Her Grace, the Queen? Or your sister?” she rolled her hips, pleased at his reaction. 

The noises he made were just as lovely as any music a bard made, if not prettier, a plethora of keens, moans and unrestrained whines coming from the back of his throat. 

"Tell me." 

She began to draw random shapes into his skin, watching as the muscles of his stomach jumped under the featherlight touches of her fingers. 

"Louder," she crooned, pulling her fingers away. "I want to hear you." 

He whimpered at her words, but obeyed her nonetheless, drawing a sharp inhale in through his nose as he twitched, his eye nearly rolling back into his head as he watched her, “Kessa, kessa, please-”  

His mumbles suddenly stopped as he fell from Old Valyrian back to the Common Tongue, desperation on his face, “Shh,” she hushed, pulling away from him far enough to slide one hand over the curving line of his jaw. 

She brushed the hair that wasn’t sticking to his skin back, the pale strands curling slightly. She’d tended to Alicent Hightower’s hair enough to see the only evidence in him and his siblings of her Hightower blood. 

He moaned, back arching off the bed as his fingers scrabbled uselessly for purchase, chasing a relief that hovered just slightly out of reach. 

It was intoxicating, this game of cat and mouse she played with the rider of the largest dragon in the realm, watching him turn to putty beneath her attention as the days passed into weeks and months. 

“What are you doing in here?” 

She whirled, the book in her hand falling to the floor at her feet, her eyes widening at the sight of Alicent hovering in the doorway, a bewildered look on her face, “Your Grace, I’m-” 

Dread pooled in her stomach, stronger than anything she’d felt before. Clothed in nothing but her shift, she felt exposed and vulnerable. 

“I set half the Keep searching for you when you weren’t in my chambers at dawn.” 

Displeasure coated her voice, her nerves stretched and drawn thin. The entire keep had been on its toes the past few days, the arrival of the Princess Rhaenyra and her husband looming over everyone’s heads. 

Whatever she had meant to say next died on her lips, her eyes following her son as he came around the corner. She could feel the warmth of his lean frame flush against her back as he looked at his mother over her head, one hand settling on her hip. 

“Mother.”

“Have you-” her voice got shriller and shriller as her composure shattered, eyes staying on her son and her handmaiden, “I ought to have you dismissed for this-” she snapped.

“Mother. That is enough,” Aemond said back, his gaze sharp as he stared down at her, said sharpness bleeding into his voice, softening slightly when his mother flinched, “You will do no such thing.” 

"And yet she is in your chambers," Alicent's gaze raked over her, eyes full of anger. "Half clothed too. Are you bedding her?"

"I am." 

He refused to say more, the long line of him at her back as stiff as a board. The Queen pressed the back of her hand to her mouth, fighting back a sob. 

“I expected this from Aegon, but from you?” Alicent began to wring her hands, picking at the skin of her fingers anxiously, “The shame of it-” she muttered under her breath, beginning to pace, skirts near silent on the stones, “This does not leave this room,” she hissed, raising a slightly trembling finger to be level with her son’s face, “I will overlook this,” she said, frowning, “But if I hear so much as a whisper, I will not hesitate to send her away.” 

“You won’t. I am not Aegon.” 

It was the only promise he was willing to give. Alicent looked at her a final time, the anger that had been on her face before now gone, the only tell of her displeasure was the subtle tightening of her mouth before she swept out past the door. 

A new stilted stiffness arose between her and the Queen after that day. Where conversation had once flowed freely, silence reigned. Silence and the nagging feeling in the back of her mind that something was coming. What that was, she knew not. 

She supposed she should’ve been grateful that her arrangement with the Prince had not changed. She, if she was being truthful, had grown quite fond of having him a writhing, moaning mess beneath her as he pleaded and begged and demanded for more, more, more. 

She would know half a moon later when the King dies. 

She didn't so much as flinch when the familiar telltale creak and groan of the door opened, dim light from the torches spilling into the dark as Aemond stepped further into his chamber. She glanced at him, taking note of the incensed expression on his face, and the labored rise and fall of his chest as he breathed and the vein ticking in his clenched jaw. 

"What is it?" 

“My brother,” he said mulishly, his mood sullen. 

She waited for him to say more, turning back to dragging a comb through her hair when he didn’t. She could practically sense the annoyance and the irritation in his voice, only speaking again when he didn’t.

“What of him?”

“He is King now, the wretch,” bitterness dripped from his every word, so potent she could almost taste the rage and the fury that coated his insides like honey, “King of the Seven Kingdoms,” he continued tersely, shucking off his tunic and tossing it over the back of a chair, "And he would rather squander valuable coin on whores and wine instead of rule,” he grit his teeth, fury bright in his eye. 

"Ah." 

She knew of Prince Aegon's proclivities, of course, for who didn’t? The prince, King now, had three children by his sister-wife, and yet he still ventured into the city to sate his urges. 

The sound of him coming closer got louder, stilling inches behind her, “I need you,” his hand settled like an anchor against the back of her neck, heavy and unpleasant. 

“No,” she kept still, sitting frozen on the chair, feeling his hand slide away. 

She mustered up enough courage to turn around. She tilted her head back, meeting his eye, unyielding in the face of his anger. 

“No?” he blinked, taken aback. 

She doubted anyone had ever denied him, going by the look on his face, his disbelief slowly giving way to anger. And not the loud kind, either. No. It was the quiet kind, the kind that thrived in the dark. In harsh inhales and even harsher exhalations of air. 

“You heard me,” she could see it, the rage slowly beginning to simmer beneath his skin, “Do I need to repeat myself?” 

If she were anyone else, her head would have decorated the city gates by now, daring to speak to him like that, but she wasn’t.

"You dare-" he snarled, glaring at her. 

Every inch a dragon, his fury should have frightened her, but it didn’t. She kept her eyes on his, tempted to raise an eyebrow at him, unimpressed as she was, filled with bravery or stupidity as she spoke. 

"I do dare," she breathed against his ear, lowering her hand between their bodies to wrap her fingers around his cock, making his angry hiss turn into a low moan, "Out there," she made a gesture towards the door with her hand to signify her point, "You may be Prince Regent, but here, you are mine," she grinned slyly. 

His breath hitched at her boldness, the anger in his eye shifting to lust he kept his gaze on her. 

"The question that remains," she murmured, touching his arm lightly. He leaned into it, a ragged breath leaving him as his eye closed, "Is if you meant to kill him?" 

He had not been back from Storm’ End for more than a day at most, his return met not with pleased faces, but horror and a herald of what was to come. The shadow of the Stranger loomed over all of them, slipping closer and closer before striking at the heart of them. 

The murder of Aegon II’s heir. Jaehaerys had been quiet, the little six fingered boy speaking as little as his twin, if not less, the grief of it sending his mother spiraling into madness, withering away.  

He bit his lip as a flash of horrified realization danced across his face. He hesitated, mouth opening as if he meant to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. 

"I don't know," he stared down at his hands blankly, as if there was blood on them that only he could see, "I taunted him," he croaked out, "Told him to cut his eye out as payment for the one he took from me. That I'd make a gift of it to my mother." 

He swallowed, curling his hands into fists. 

She chose her next words carefully, standing next to him warily, "What did he do, Aemond?" 

Too locked within his mind to care, he didn't notice her slip up, "He refused," his face twisted, agonized, "He refused, and I named him a craven and a traitor. Chased him through the skies," she rounded on him, her breath faltering in her chest as she dreaded his next words, “I fought to control Vhagar, but-” she grasped his shoulders, briefly meeting his eye before drawing him to her. 

No matter what they did, war and death and blood would always be an outcome, attempts and hopes for peace scattering like flower petals on the wind. 

Aemond was dead. The words rang in her ears as hollow as a drum. 

Disbelief, as potent as a sword buried hilt deep in her belly, edged its way through her, the pain of it dragging and scraping at her insides. She heard the talk of the smallfolk that had drifted from mouth to mouth until it reached the city of his death at the hands of his uncle. He’d wanted her to come with him, the manner of how he tried to convince her failing as she refused over and over to leave the Queen, just as bound by duty as he was. 

And now he was dead. He and the dragon he had lost an eye for, doomed to a watery grave unbefitting for a son of House Targaryen. In the eyes of some, it was a more than fair exchange, a son of Alicent’s blood for the one Rhaenyra had lost. 

“Stay. Please.” 

“You loved him, as I did-” Alicent lunged forward, clutching at her hands tightly, her rich brown eyes glittering with tears, “I know it in my bones. Tell me you did. Please.” Grief and bereavement clung to her like a shroud, the loss of three of her four children having all but broken her, leaving her a withered wraith of the woman she’d been, "I remember the sickness that took my husband and my child from me." 

There was an ache inside of her, one that had never truly gone away. It rose up again, bringing with it the half-faded memories of a child’s laughter and the smell of flowers and newly tilled earth. 

“That is the grief of motherhood, to love our children as best we can,” she turned around to face Alicent head on, carrying the same grief that lingered in the Dowager’s eyes.

“I did not love him,” she admitted, stilling feet from the entry, “But I did care for him in my own way,” her vision blurred, hands trembling as she remembered the night before he’d left, choking as she remembered the words he had said. 

And the ones he hadn’t.  

She had reveled in the control she’d held over him at the beginning, the way it had morphed and changed and shifted into something different as he came to her again and again. Something deeper that she couldn’t name. 

There had been a desperation to him as he’d touched her, a fervent near feral wildness in his eye as he’d kissed her, dragging his hands from her thighs to her hips to her breasts, squeezing her flesh hard enough to leave marks in some places. 

She had returned it in kind, scratching her nails down his back, watching with glassy eyes as his back arched. The pained moan he let out when she bit his shoulder. His grunt as she dug her heels into his back, holding him as he lay in the cradle of her thighs, ears full of nothing but the loud, lewd sounds of his skin against hers, panting as she fell apart under him. 

Later still, after the dust had settled in the ashes of the war, she reflected. Day and night she had sat at the bedside of the dying Queen, feeling the beginnings of winter fever crawl into her bones and settle into her lungs, the room silent except for the hoarse whispers of Alicent Hightower as she whispered the names of the four children she had birthed and loved and lost over and over and over.

She hoped she would see him again, If it were possible, raised as she was to believe in the Seven, her experiences as she grew proving nothing to her but the knowledge that they were known more for their apathy than they were for kindness.

#aemond fic #my fics #aemond x original character #aemond smut #house of the dragon #hotd fics #asoiaf

[aluraveil]

Lovesick Fool

TW : Yandere themes, unstable Childe, cheating, swearing, and heavy angst.

Pairings : Yandere Childe x Reader

Sypnosis : Your cheating ex boyfriend Childe sees you again after a year since the both of you broke up. 

It had been a year since you broke up with your ex boyfriend after finding out he cheated on you. You were heartbroken. You loved him a lot and it all went down the drain when you saw him fucking another girl.

You now lived in a small village in Snezhnaya when you decided to visit another village called Morepesok. You had heard that they were selling a certain book you liked to read so you took a trip there in hopes of being able to buy the book.

Unfortunately, your ex boyfriend and his family lived there but he hardly ever came home due to his status of being a Harbinger and you really wanted to read the book.

About an hour later you arrived at the village. You looked around in hopes of seeing the book you wanted to buy on sale. You started looking through the stores when unfortunately, the book you wanted to buy was nowhere to be found. You were quite upset but shrugged it off as you decided to walk back to your old village.

You noticed a group of people were all huddled up and close together when you had spotted your ex boyfriend Childe in the middle of the crowd.

You froze as you had thought that you would never see him again. In fact you never wanted to see him ever again. Not after how he broke your heart and played with your feelings.

You quickly looked away but unfortunately Childe had spotted you and he was walking towards you to catch up with you. 

“Hey Y/N it’s been a long time!” He said with a sweet smile as he stood infront of you. You didn’t even bother to talk to him. You didn’t even look at him as you just walked past him not even acknowledging his presence.

He was sad and dissapointed when you just ignored him. He was confused. 

“Y/N? My love please talk to me. I’ve missed you so much.” He grabbed your arm and clung onto it as you just ignored him and didn’t even pay him any mind because he deserved it. 

He broke your heart and he just expects you to forget about it? Fuck no. 

You tried to shove him off your arm but his grip was iron tight.

“My love? Dove? Darling? Dear?” He pleaded with you. He wanted to hear your beautiful face. He wanted to try to meet your eyes with his gaze. “Please? I love you so much.”

People around you started to notice the way the Harbinger clinged onto you. They saw how desperate he was. People snickered at the fact that the oh how fearsome mighty and ruthless 11th Harbinger looked like a lovesick fool for someone that he loved a lot.

You finally looked down at him and you could have sworn his eyes looked like heart shaped ones. His gaze was full of obsession, lust, and love.

“Get the fuck off of my arm.” You said as you stared down at him with a cold gaze.

Childe nearly shivered at your gaze and he loosened his grip on your arm. You grabbed him and you punched him in the face. He fell to the ground and he was shocked as he looked at you who was standing above him.

Everybody around you was shocked. You had just punched a fucking Harbinger.

The both of you stared at each other for a few seconds until you broke it. You turned around and never looked back as you walked back to your village. Leaving Childe there laying on the ground.

His face quickly turned from shocking into a lovesick expression as he let his mind be devoured by the thoughts of you.

“You’ll be back in my arms soon enough. I promise you.”

Reblogs and likes are appreciated <3

YALL AM I DOING THIS RIGHT?? IM STILL NEW TO WRITING ON TUMBLR AND I NEED MORE EXPOSURE HELP

#genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin #genshin childe #yandere childe #yandere childe x reader #yandere childe x you #yandere tartaglia #yandere tartaglia x reader #ajax x reader #yandere ajax #tw. cheating #tw. yandere #childe angst #ajax angst #tartaglia #tartaglia angst #genshin tartaglia

[aquagirl1978]

Time Has Come Today - Cyran Rose x Reader (Ikemen Prince)

A/N: Part of Visions of Temptation 2023 hosted by @xxsycamore

Pairing: Cyran Rose x Reader

Prompt: Day 21 - Not Wearing Underwear and "Touch yourself for me. Look at me while you do it."

Word Count: 870

Tags: NSFW; Minors - DNI; not wearing underwear; vaginal fingering; piv; creampie; female-bodied reader (no pronouns used)

“How long do we have?” You took your lips from his only long enough to whisper those quick words to him.

“At least a half hour,” Cyran replied confidently. He threw off his cloak and began to unbutton his crisp white shirt. Wrapping his arms around your waist, he guided you to his bed. “Clavis in a meeting with Prince Chevalier and a few nobles.” He pulled away momentarily, removing and discarding his shirt. “He should be there for quite a while.”

In the brief time since being appointed the position of Belle, Clavis had made it his daily duty to follow you around, reminding you every chance he got of how handsome he was. After hearing the tales of the traps he so often laid for unsuspecting victims and of the food he so carefully cooked for others, you weren’t sure if this was his way of flirting with you or keeping you away. 

As Belle, you had hoped his feelings leaned towards the latter – especially after you met Cyran Rose, who, unfortunately for both of you, worked under Clavis. After it became clear that you shared the same feelings for one another, you both had agreed that it would be best to keep this relationship a secret. 

Sighing softly, you fell onto his bed; soft and comfortable, the bed was familiar to you now. His long fingers deftly unbuttoned your shirt, your gaze focusing on how his large fingers worked tiny buttons through tiny holes.

He smiled, pleased once he had removed your shirt. He was eager; while there was time, it was not unlimited. 

“I missed this,” you moaned as he slipped his large hand under your skirt.

“I know,” he smirked, discovering you were wearing no underwear. His mouth covered yours, swallowing your moans as he slipped a finger inside you. “I missed this, too.”

He soon broke the kiss and gazed at you intensely. “Will you do something for me?”

“Anything.”

“Touch yourself for me,” he asked as he tugged your skirt past your hips. “Look at me while you do it.”

Warmth rose to your cheeks at his request. Already having agreed to do so, you bit your lip, knowing there was no way out of this. 

With your eyes locked on his, your hand drifted between your legs, your fingertips teasing your clit before sliding two fingers inside. 

“Like this?” you asked breathlessly, noticing Cyran’s gaze had fallen, a tiny gasp leaving his parted, pink lips.

He watched as you pumped your fingers inside, scissoring them, stretching your walls to accommodate his size, keeping your movements slow and deliberate to prolong your pleasure.

Eager to be inside you, Cyran removed his pants, freeing his erection. He lined his body up to yours; taking your wrist in his hand, he removed your hand from your core. 

Rubbing his cock along your wet slit, he enjoyed the noises you made when he pushed the tip inside. 

“You're still so tight,” he grunted, stretching you as he slowly slid his cock inside. Once he was fully sheathed inside you, he stilled, his gaze locked on yours as he began to thrust his hips against yours.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, clinging to Cyran, digging your nails into his skin as he began to ravish you. Your moans mingled, muffled by the sounds of skin slapping against skin that filled the air.

It had been long – too long – since you had been with Cyran like this. Even a day or two felt like a month when the petals of Beauty’s Rose were falling, marking the passage of time. How many times had plans been canceled because of an extended training practice? Or because one of Clavis’ traps caused a ruckus which Cyran had to smooth over? 

It didn’t take long for the pleasure to build; wave after wave, the pleasure built until it reached its crest, the waves crashing as you cried out his name. He soon met you, his body tensing as he spilled inside you; his body collapsed atop yours, broken and spent, but still joined with you.

He rolled over onto his back, guiding you to rest your head on his warm chest. Pressing your cheek against his skin, you found his faint heartbeat, calming and soothing. 

Knowing that you should get up and resume your duties, your heart won out – it just felt too good to rest in Cyran’s arms. 

With a light sheet wrapped around your bare body, you felt so relaxed, you let your eyes drift closed.

Only to be woken a moment later when the door was flung open. 

“Oh, dearie me. What do we have here?”

Oh, no. No, no, no, no. Thankful for the sheet Cyran had wrapped you in earlier, you immediately pulled it up to your neck, your eyes wide as you glanced from Cyran to Clavis.

Clavis smirked, his golden eyes alight with mischief as he rubbed his palms together. Turning on his heel, he walked out, almost as quickly as he entered.

Before crossing the threshold, he stopped, and turned his head to you. 

“Maybe next time, one of you will be so kind as to extend an invite to me.”

Tagging: @redheadkittys @alixennial @rhodolitesroseforclavis @kissmetwicekissmedeadly @chaosangel767 @queengiuliettafirstlady @queen-dahlia @ikehoe @ikemen-writer @talfollowingstuff @kpop-and-otome @kisara-16 @altairring @lucyw260 @lordsisterxotome @umi-adxhira @yarnnerdally @crypticbibliophile @tele86 @nightfoxqueen @melodiousramblings @wendolrea @aceuuuu @randonauticrap @aria-chikage @nightghoul381 @itsjudesfault @maries-gallery @xbalayage @xenokiryu @wordycheeseblob

#visions of temptation 2023 #ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #cyran rose #ikepri cyran #ikemen cyran #ikepri fanfic #ikemen fanfic #otome #otome games #otome fanfic

[goldustwomun]

no one knows (e.m.)

pairing: modern! eddie munson x secret gf! reader

summary: it had been your idea to keep your relationship with eddie a secret, but when a party gets out of hand and the jealousy (and alcohol) kicks in, you begin to regret your decision.

warnings: everyone is JEALOUS; possessive eddie; swearing; alcohol; a modern eddie that looks basically like joe but with tattoos and darker hair!; smut smut smut!; fingering (female receiving); dirty talk; a very soft dom eddie; oral (male receiving); bestie chrissy and robin -- i love them; sleepy reader; pet names galore (sweetheart, sweets, petal, a singular pet); not completely edited but i’ll do that in a few hrs!

wc: 4.8k+

note: i have wanted to write this for over a week after listening to THIS AUDIO (18+ -- THIS IS ALSO 18+ LOL SO MINORS DNI!). Hope you all enjoy this horrible but turned dreamy night with our favourite eddie munson <3 oh oh! here’s a little moodboard type thing i also made for modern! eddie :))

The walls were buzzing. From the people, the music, the booze – you weren’t sure. It was just past midnight and you were only now starting to feel the effects of the worryingly cheap wine you’d scored at the minimart. It seemed appropriate, though, needing something more sophisticated than the usual tequila and breezers – all to celebrate the end of another year.

Everyone and their dogs had shown up. People you’d barely even spoken to in tutorials, their friends, significant others, neighbours. Your one bedroom apartment could barely tolerate a night-in with your small group of friends – with Nancy, Jonathan, Steve, Robin, Chrissy, and Eddie – so you were all but certain that, come morning, the place would be trashed.

But fuck it, as you’d told a worried Steve, as friends of friends began pouring through the open door. No more dragging yourself to nine am lectures, barely enduring midterms every few weeks (why were they even called midterms?), being nudged awake by the library after you’d passed out during a late night study session. 

You’d all survived another year in hell, so surely, you’d survive this night, as well. 

That is, if the handsy girl currently pushing herself into Eddie’s lap didn’t move it before you stormed over there and did it yourself. 

You were silently fuming into your half-empty glass, picturing all the ways in which you could saunter over there and (not so) accidentally dump the contents of your glass down the front of her annoyingly low dress.

What was worse was that Eddie was fucking loving it. He wasn’t encouraging the girl’s nefarious intentions, but he was too polite to blatantly push her away. 

Plus, he craved the attention, the sly touches and subtle smirks. Would grin in that cheeky way of his that had your toes curling and clinging to his side like he was your anchor and you were lost, helpless and drowning, at sea. 

And you knew he did because he loved being showered with praises and endless compliments when he was balls deep inside of you, fucking so hard you saw stars, galaxies, the whole universe. Loved it when you moaned extra loud, talked extra dirty. You could read that man like the back of your hand and, unfortunately for you, no one knew you were seeing each other.

It had been your idea, to keep it all hush until the year was out. You didn’t want it to complicate the dynamics of your friend group, or to distract from assignments and exams, so while the two of you cuddled up with one another on the weekends, slept in each other’s arms when it rained too hard and you wanted him off the roads, you still made him keep up the pretences when others were around.

To anyone else, the two of you were just friends. Close friends, best friends, platonic soulmates – whatever they wanted to think. But never anything more (despite the fact that it was the furthest thing from the truth). 

So that meant as much as you wanted to walk up to him, yank that bumbling bimbo off his lap and kiss him, hard and fast, right there, in front of everyone – you couldn’t. 

You blew out a slow, calming breath, knocking back the rest of your glass before heaving yourself off of the bar stool, wandering into the kitchen to find a familiar face. 

“There you are!” Robin hollered, perched on the kitchen counter, resting her head against the side of the fridge. Chrissy was sitting next to her, a bowl of stale popcorn between them. You slumped into a chair in front of them, leaning forward to grab a handful from the bowl before stuffing it into your mouth. They snickered at the crumbs that rolled down your front, and you only pouted in response. 

“What’s up, sweets? Why so down?” Robin cooed, fingers dramatically pinching your cheeks. You scowled, threatening her hands with a snap! of your teeth and she immediately retracted them. “That’s not very nice of you.” 

“Yeah, this is your party. Get shitfaced, get up on a table and dance, hell, even kiss a guy, or two, or three…” Chrissy trailed off into a fit of giggles. 

You shook your head, slumping back into your chair. “No, no, and no.”

“Well, with that attitude–”

“Robin!” you whined, slapping her thigh in admonishment. “I’m having fun– I am! I’m just– tired, I don't know. It was a long week of finals and I probably shouldn’t have invited sooo many people.”

“Hm. You think?” Chrissy questioned thoughtfully. She hopped off the counter, tugging you up to your feet, and grabbed your face in the palms of her hands. “Look at me. You are an intelligent, independent women, who, by the way, looks so fucking hot right now, and you deserve to celebrate. We can’t have our girl hiding in the kitchen with that pouty look of hers, now can we?”

Robin whooped in agreement, yanking your fridge open and pulling out the bottle of somehow-cheaper-than-the-wine tequila you’d hidden for when you needed a pick-me up. She poured three shots, handing them out as you all grinned at each other, like you knew something the others didn’t. 

“Okay– on the count of three. One. Two–” Robin knocked hers back, face scrunching up in distaste as the alcohol burned her throat. You wasted no time, emptying your cup in one go as Chrissy followed your lead. 

“F-fuck! That’s– Well, that’s really bad,” you noted, grabbing the bottle from Robin’s hand to inspect the label. “Does tequila expire?” you questioned suddenly, scanning the bottle for any indication of whether you’d live through the night. 

“Don’t be silly! We’ll be finneee!” Chrissy insisted. “Now, let’s have some fun.”

Eddie was losing it, watching you from the corner of the room, barely hearing a word anyone else was saying because you looked unnecessarily good, but he had to keep his hands to himself. He’d promised you that, but he couldn’t, at that very moment, remember why he’d agreed.

And wasn’t it the end of the year? That had been the deadline, the goal, make it through finals and then he could shout your name from the rooftops for all you cared. But the two of you had been so busy with de-stressing post-exam and clearing out notes and flashcards that you hadn’t had a chance to talk, to discuss the status of your secret relationship.

He was seeing you for the first time in just over a week, and he couldn’t walk up and kiss you, hard and fast, right there, for everyone to see, and it was killing him. 

“Eddie, babes, are you even listening to me right now?” His head snapped in the direction of the girl – Mila? Mary? Mona? – who had been glued to his side like a second skin. It’d be too suspicious for him to pass off the attention of, what he supposed, was an objectively attractive girl, so he entertained her flirtations enough to ward off suspicion. 

He’d caught a quick glance of you as you walked into the kitchen. You weren’t facing him so he couldn’t see the look on your face, but from the tension in your shoulders and the way you all but stomped your feet on the ground – you were pissed.

He needed to get out of there. 

“I am! I am!” he assured, peeling her hand, which was clutching a little too high up on his thigh for his liking, off of him. “I actually need to use the bathroom, I'll be right back.” He stood up, already scanning the room to find you. You must still be in the kitchen, he decided. 

“Do you want me to join you?” she offered, coupled with a suggestive smirk. 

“I think I’m alright, but thank you.” Eddie tried to ignore the way she moped into her fist and instead made a beeline for the kitchen. He’d barely gotten a foot past the threshold before you were stumbling into him, and he only just caught you before you face planted into the sticky tile of the floor.

“Eddie! Baby!” You swayed in his arms, steadying yourself by snaking your arms around his neck and staring, glazed over, into his eyes. 

You were pissed. 

“How much have you had to drink?” he questioned, voice tight and holding your hips so you stopped moving so much. 

“I don’t know. Two? Three?” you guessed, nuzzling into the crook of his neck but moaning when his stubble-turned-beard scratched roughly against your face. “God, you need to shave.”

“Two, three, what? Shots? Glasses?” he asked again, trying to keep you focused on the matter at hand.

“Bottles!” 

“Are you–!”

“I’m joking, Eds! I had two glasses of wine, and we just had a few shots right now. But I’m fine, sweetheart, I’m so, sooo gooood!”

 It was hard to take you seriously when you were stumbling over your words like a baby deer trying to walk, so he turned you around, hands still firmly gripping your waist, as he led you to your bedroom.

“Let’s go lie down for a bit, yeah, sweetheart?” Eddie knew by then that trying to get you to follow basic orders when you were drunk was somehow harder than when you were sober. Being as stubborn as you were, he had learnt that the best course of action would always be a gentle nudging in the right direction.

“Bed? Nooo!”  Eddie was trying his best to not laugh at the stubborn pout gracing your features. “I don’t want to go to bed!” You stopped abruptly, twisting in his arms and planting a sloppy kiss on his face, though missing his lips by a few millimetres. 

“Come on, petal–” you loved it when he called you that, could disarm you completely until you liquified in his embrace, and this time was no different. “--everyone’s watching, and you’ll be fuming tomorrow morning. Let’s just go to bed,” he pleaded, pecking your cheek. 

But his lips were so dangerously soft and you were really beginning to fill the odd mix of alcohol you’d inhaled and there was still that lingering, green-eyed jealousy nagging at the back of your mind and–

Robin rammed into your side before you could say anything else. “I’ve been looking for you! Come on! Come on!” She didn’t stop to hear your protests, yanking you out of Eddie’s reach and dragging you to the centre of the living room. 

The speakers were blaring unintelligible indie rock – the kind that you loved to play when you wanted to annoy Eddie (“This isn’t music!”). Chrissy was already bouncing up and down, her usually neat waves of hair whipping wildly around her face.  The infectious joy in her movements, in those of the crowd around you, had you jumping around yourself, arms swinging and belting the few lyrics you could decipher.

It was midway into the song when you noticed someone’s hands were on your waist. The pulse of bodies made it impossible to turn and see, but your hazy mind assumed it was Eddie. It wasn’t uncommon for the two of you to get a little more handsy when tipsy (or way past); physical touch was how you communicated your love for each other and your friends. 

But when the crowd parted in front of you and Eddie pushed his way through the crowd, your heart dropped. Craning your neck back, an unfamiliar face stared back at you and before you could say anything, you were being yanked out of his arms. He was too out of it to care or notice, but you could see Eddie’s face growing more and more red by the second, and you had an inkling of a feeling that it wasn’t because of how hot it was.

He pushed you behind him easily, Robin and Chrissy holding onto you as they watched, unsure, as Eddie roughly grabbed the offender by his collar. 

“Don’t you fucking dare put your hands on her, ever,” he threatended, words low but somehow loud enough to be heard over the music. The dancing had stopped and someone must have turned the music down because you could hear the murmurs around you. 

Eddie stepped back, looking around in time to see how everyone was gaping at him. “I think the party’s over,” he stated decidedly, and with that smouldering look in his eyes, no one even attempted to argue. 

It was impressive, really, how quickly your apartment emptied. Chrissy and Robin sat with you in the kitchen, forcing you to chug down glasses and glasses of water, but what they didn’t know was that after that incident, you didn’t need help sobering up. 

“Will you be okay?” Chrissy asked, concern laced in her words as she plucked a straying hair from across your face.

“Yeah, don’t worry. Everything's fine, I just think we need to talk a few things through…”

They both nodded, collecting their bags to leave, but Robin hesitated at the front door. Turning to face you, she asked, tentatively, “So you and Eddie…?”

“Me and Eddie,” you confirmed. Their faces lit up and you were hit with an instant bout of regret, wishing you hadn’t over complicated everything and just told your friends about you and Eddie. But it was what you needed at the time, feeling so out of control with every aspect of your life that you wanted to safeguard the peace and comfort you felt with Eddie. 

“We’re happy for you, sweets,” she cooed, giving you a tight hug and shutting the door behind them. 

You sighed, forehead resting against the cool wood. You’re not sure how long you stood there, simply breathing, before someone cleared their throat behind you. You turned and Eddie was standing just a little too far away for your liking. There was this distant look in his eyes you’d never seen before. The two of you were open books when it came to communication, and you read him with the same familiarity of your favourite novel. 

“Eddie,” you began, worried by where this conversation was headed. The thoughts had already begun – maybe you’d pushed him a little too much, not listened enough. You wouldn’t blame him if he ended it right there, you could see the exhaustion in the way his shoulders hunched forward.

You’d never seen him so deadly, so inconceivably angry. He hadn’t frightened you, he could never frighten you, but you hated knowing you’d done that to him. Caged him into a corner where he’d stewed quietly, only for the rage to build and explode in your face, in everyone’s face. 

But he never let you finish because he’d closed that distance between you, pulling you into his arms and kissing you so desperately, you were certain he’d swallow you whole (and you’d happily let him). He held you like he never wanted to let you go, would rather mould you to his body so you’d be stuck with him forever. “Can we not do that again? I think I almost punched the guy,” he mumbled into your mouth, voice still hoarse. 

“Yeah, yeah, I think that’s a good idea,” you agreed eagerly, leaning up on your tiptoes to wind your arms around his neck. Then Eddie pushed forward, your back connecting, or slamming more like, into the door as he slipped his fingers into yours, yanking them off his body and holding them above your head. 

You realised, then, that he was still seething, only quietly, under that calm exterior of his. You just needed to bring it out, provoke him a little, let him expel that anger in the best way you knew how. 

Turning your head away from his prying lips, you admitted,“I told Robin and Chrissy.”

“What?” was all he managed, panting and entirely focused on capturing your mouth again. 

“I told them. We don’t have to keep us a secret, Eddie, not if you don’t want to.” He was frozen, rooted to the spot like a predator stalking its prey, and fortunately for you, you were spread out, exposed, for him to take you as he pleased.

He rushed forward, mouthing his way down your neck, leaving bruises across your collarbone with your hands still pinned to the door. “Everyone’s going to know you’re mine,” he growled into your skin, making his way back to your mouth where he nipped and sucked your already swollen lips. 

“Fuck– yeah, yeah, I’m yours, Eddie.” You were already whimpering under his ministrations, though he hadn’t even touched you, not properly. But the way he spoke to you, the way he kissed and held you like he owned you – it was impossible to resist; you had no choice but to comply and let him take care of you in the way he knew best. 

With his hands, his lips, his hard cock that you could feel pressed against your quivering thighs. 

“Bed, Eddie, bed–” you choked out, shoving your body against his so he stumbled back, eyes wide as they traced over your heated, heaving frame. He nodded, grasping your hand in his as he tugged you towards your bedroom door. He turned the handle, cursing in frustration when it resisted. 

“What’s fucking wrong– It won’t–” You pushed him out of the way, reaching into the back pocket of your jeans, pulling out the key (you always locked the door when you hosted anything). But the way your hands were shaking, feeling Eddie’s warm breath against the shell of your ear with how close he was stood behind you, large hands grasping onto your hips. 

Fuck– you couldn’t get the key into the hole, and when one of Eddie’s slid down the front of your jeans, teasingly lowering the zipper of your jeans. He was cruel, so fucking cruel. And he was so good about it as well, could have you begging for it meaner, harder, faster. 

His hand dipped into your pants, cupping you – a crude image to behold let alone be on the receiving end of – and you groaned defeatedly, free hand slamming against the door. “What’s wrong, petal, can’t get it in?” He was mocking you and you could do nothing but take it, legs now trembling beneath you because his hand was where you wanted, but there was no pressure, no friction, nothing to make it feel–

You all but shouted when the key slipped in, the door giving way and you would have face planted into the carpet if it hadn’t been for Eddie, holding you up. “That’s a good girl, got there eventually, didn’t ya’.” He walked behind you, urging you forward, and using the toe of his boot to shut the door behind him. 

“Eddie– Please–” you whined, head leaning back into his chest as he refused to give you what you wanted. 

“I know, pet, I know. It hurts, doesn’t it?” You could only nod, words escaping you as you threw the key at the wall, your hands scrambling to reach behind you and tug on his short curls. 

You didn’t expect it, couldn’t have, but he let out the most delicious groan you’d ever heard, your brain must have short circuited because the next thing you knew, he was spinning you around and claiming your mouth once again. 

“That was– That–” He must have felt it too, barely managing to form a sentence between his frantic kisses and wondering, squeezing, hands. “Do it again, sweets, tug it for me.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He’d never asked for it before, and it wasn’t that you didn’t like it, Jesus, you were worried you liked it a little too much, but you were both high on jealousy and relief and–

“It’s fine, I swear– It hurts, but it’s good, just– do it again, please.” He was begging and really, how could you say no to him? He was tugging your pants down and you slipped out of them easily, all the while you took the opportunity to tug on his short strands of hair and bite into the hard line of his jaw. 

“Such a quick learner– that’s it,” he encouraged, walking you back until your legs hit the edge of your bed. 

You stopped him, grasping his face in your hands so he had no choice but to halt his movements and look at you. He looked worried, worried that he’d misstepped or taken it too far, but the haze in your eyes and the dopey smile on your face had his thoughts venturing elsewhere. 

“You okay, sweetheart?” His voice was deathly sweet. “Want something, don’t you?”

There it was, the familiarity, the telling look or feeling the both of you shared. He knew you– knew you so well that you didn’t even need to speak for him to figure out what exactly it was you wanted. But he’d make you say it anyway, relished in the way you stuttered over your requests. 

For someone so incredibly dirty in bed, you could get shy real fast under those dark doe eyes of his. 

“Can I taste you Eddie, please?” 

Eddie grinned, slipping his hand around your wrist and guiding it to the front of his pants, where he was hard and aching and the outline of his cock was so blatant, just begging for attention. “What– my lips not enough for you?” he asked breezily. 

“No! They’re good, so good, but I just– want you to feel good, too,” you insisted, already undoing the button of his jeans and tugging the zipper down.

“Well, when you ask so pretty,” he admitted, breathing heavy with the way in which he watched your nimble fingers reach into his pants. “Of course, sweetheart, you can have a taste.”

“Get on your knees, petal.” You obliged immediately, tugging down his jeans along the way. “That’s it, now pull me out,” he instructed gently, tucking your hair behind your ear. You couldn’t help but tilt your head to the side, sweetly pecking the palm of his hand before reaching to pull his boxers down as well.

With how hard he was, you were surprised he wasn’t even more of a desperate mess. “Jesus Christ, Eddie,” you moaned at the sight of him, unable to hold back, so you shifted closer, carpet burning your knees but you ignored it— attention entirely transfixed on Eddie and his pleasure. 

You held him in one hand, the other gripping his thigh for balance. His hips flinched the second your cool skin connected with his, and he moaned brokenly. “Go on, sweetheart, you know what to do,” he crowed, unbuttoning the sheer material of shirt and tossing it blindly behind him. He was afraid to look away, even for a second, not wanting to miss a moment of you. 

The both of you were eager to pleasure the other, but Eddie would always manage to coax you onto your back so he could drop between your thighs and pull one, two, sometimes three (if he had the time) orgasms from you. It wasn’t often he let you return to the favour so you were eager to please. 

Kissing the leaking tip of him, you whined at the salty taste, nails digging into the skin of his thigh, surely enough to leave marks you’d kiss at in the morning. “F– Fuck– Teasing me, are you?” he growled, entire body tensing as he held back the urge to fuck into your mouth himself. “Don’t be so cruel, sweets, thought you wanted me to feel good?” 

You stared up at him, the picture of innocence if it weren’t for his pulsing cock in your mouth. So you took the opportunity, the heated eye contact, to take as much as you could of him into the wetness of your mouth, almost gagging before you pulled back, warm, panting breaths caressing him. 

You traced your tongue against the bulging vein that covered the entire length of him, stopping to suck on his blooming tip and lap messily at the sensitive slit. He jerked then, unable to stop himself, as his hands gripped your head still. 

“S-Stop. Don’t wanna come, not like this,” he insisted, and you whined in disapproval. Eddie tugged your head back by your hair, bending at the waist to kiss you hard on the mouth, groaning at the taste of himself on your lips. “Think that’s enough. Your turn, pet.” 

On trembling legs, you pulled yourself up, pulling your top off and reaching back to unhook your bra – all in one go. Eddie could only watch, suddenly helpless, as more and more of your skin became exposed, all for him to touch and hold and kiss.

You really were going to kill him one day. 

“Lie back on the bed,” he ordered, moving forward with you. You waited for him to do something, anything. 

“You’ve been awfully quiet, sweetheart, not sure I like it,” he noted, tracing the tip of his nose along the cut of your jaw. Eddie stopped at your ear, whispering, “Do you think you're wet enough?”

He shifted back to hear your answer, and you took his hand, placing it right where you wanted him, ached for him, before responding, “I dunno, Eds, what do you think?” His mouth dropped open as he felt the slick coating you, grazing your clit as he tore his gaze from you and stared at where you gaped for him. 

“Fucking hell,” he swore under his breath. 

If this was Hell, he didn’t want to leave, would let the fire consume him if it meant he had you spread out like this. And if this was Heaven, he surely hadn’t done enough to deserve it, to deserve you. 

“For me?” he asked, completely in awe of you. Eddie wasted no time in slipping two fingers into you, moaning with you as he fucked in and out at a tantalising pace. You fell back into the mattress, hips lifting in search of something more, more, more. 

“We have all night, sweets, no need to rush,” Eddie insisted, watching intently where his fingers slide into you. 

“Please– Please–” You weren’t making sense, words mumbled incoherently under the loud, wet noise of his fingers. But you just needed him to move the slightest bit faster, the slightest bit deeper. You were right there, on the verge of falling apart but unable to free fall into oblivion. 

“I can’t hear you, petal, gonna need to speak up,” he cooed, forehead resting against your own so he could watch your pink, nipped-at lips form the words he was just waiting to hear.

“Please, Eddie,” you whined louder, fingers gripping the sheets so tight you were sure they’d give in and rip soon enough. “I want to cum, please, let me cum.” 

“You wanna cum?” he asked again, the hand not currently pulling you apart, bit by bit, skimming the bed to hold yours in a tight grip. He squeezed your hand once, twice, before giving in. “Okay, sweetheart, I can do that for you,” he promised with a kiss to your cheek as if he wasn’t taunting you only moments ago. 

His fingers sped up immediately, insistently pushing against that spongy bit inside of you that had you quivering in his arms and your eyes fluttering shut. That, coupled with his thumb pressing into your clit was what finally pushed you over the edge. 

You must have blacked out for a moment or two because once you opened your eyes, there was Eddie Munson, slipping his drenched, shining fingers into his mouth as his gaze trailed across your spent frame. 

You couldn’t help but gape up at him, and he only smirked, leaning down to burry his face into your neck. “I think I’m dead,” you mumbled, tracing the tattoos inked onto his bicep. 

“Had a feeling, sweetheart. We can stop if you want.” He was smoothing your hair back, covering your face with kisses – on your cheeks, your chin, your forehead, either eye – anywhere he could reach, and you scrunched your face at his attack. 

“What about your–” you stared pointedly at where he was still hard, and he giggled into her mouth. 

“I’ll deal with it myself, don’t worry. You look exhausted.”

“Well that’s real sweet of you.” He got up, blatantly ignoring your glare and instead, mockingly pinching your nose. You leaned up on your elbows, watching as he pulled his boxers back on, rummaging through the pile of clothes before throwing your underwear and t-shirt at you. 

“Thank you!” you called as he disappeared into the bathroom, probably to ‘deal’ with himself, as he’d put it. 

You woke up what must have been a few hours later, the lights in your room turned off and a sleeping Eddie tucked in, close, against your back. You don’t remember falling asleep but Eddie wasn’t wrong, you were absolutely exhausted.

Swivelling under his arm, you burrowed into his front, your head tucking neatly under his. He sighed in his sleep, face devoid of those usual lines of joy, worry, whatever it was. He was completely, blissfully, at ease. 

Neither of you were that good at hiding your feelings, and you were just glad you wouldn’t have to anymore. 

The world had to know – you were in love with Eddie Munson, and you think he might even love you back. 

Love you allll! Reblogs and comments are much appreciated <3

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x female reader smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #stranger things #stranger things smut #stranger things 4 #modern eddie munson #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #my #no one knows #joseph quinn #joe quinn

[happy-beeeps]

Slip of the Tongue

WC: 1.3k

Pairing: PoexMando!reader (Mando a la Sabine, not Din)

Prompt: “You look so pretty” “What did you say?” “I said you look shitty.” from @ghostofskywalker fic exchange because I saw someone write Tech with this prompt and it changed my life.

Warnings: language I guess, but that’s it! Pure fluff~

A/N: This is a oneshot, but I’m gonna start writing more for this pairing soon, I think!

“My favorite thing about you is that you continuously surprise me every day with the new ways you manage to be so stupid.” You say, barely audible over the sound of the power tool Poe is using on one of the open consoles in the Falcon. He cranes his neck over to where you’re at, suspended by a harness working on the ceiling of the ship, head angled towards him.

“And you surprise me everyday with just how romantic you can actually be.” He chirps back, sending you a wink as he gets back to work. You’re grateful he can’t see your expression now beneath your helmet, the glare you’re shooting at him and the rising blush on your cheeks.

Your work on the Falcon seems to neverend, and despite you and Poe’s mutual deep seeded hatred for one another, he’s begrudgingly told you that he “respects your craftsmanship” and refuses to take the Falcon to any other mech in the Resistance. You, in turn, get the immense privilege of working on the ship of your childhood dreams, learning the ins and outs of the hunk of metal. Besides, with Poe comes BB-8, Rey, and Finn, and you much prefer his team to the pilot himself. Today, unfortunately, Poe’s fancy flying has not only placed the Falcon in need of medical attention, but Finn as well, and you’re left alone with Poe to work on the fried circuitry and damaged hyperdrive. 

“What was it this time? Hyperdrive jumping?”

“Correction. I was avoiding hyperdrive jumping by gravity launching, you know, going in and out of the different moons and propelling myself forward with it.”

“Both an impressive technique and an impressive failure.” You sigh, and he pokes his head out to peak at you. 

“What’s it gonna take to impress you, huh Mando?”

You cringe at the nickname. Well, not as much cringe as you do blush, but still. “I’ll be impressed when you can get her back to me in one piece.”

He smirks, “Yeah, but then I don’t have any excuse to come see you.” When you don’t respond at first he continues, “I bet your helmet is getting steamy just thinking about me.”

He narrowly avoids the wrench you throw at his head.

Poe is remarkably frustrating, he has the unique ability of getting under your skin more than nearly anyone you know, and you’ve worked with Mandalorian coverts and Imperials. It also doesn’t help that he’s sickeningly attractive, and knows it, and you can’t help but wonder if you didn’t hate him so much if you could love him. He’s clearly got a soft side, BB-8 is the most precious droid in the world and follows him around like his shadow, and you’ve never known Finn or Rey to be a bad judge of character. Still, there’s something so aggravating about him that you can barely stand to be in his presence. Then, just as he steps back from the spot near the wall to admire his work, you see him in all his glory, and it dawns on you. Poe is remarkably beautiful. His sleeves are pushed up past his elbows, and his curls are flopping haphazardly around his face, partially slicked back with sweat, and despite it you have a fleeting feeling of wanting to run your hands through his hair. His shirt hangs open in the front and clings to his chest, and he has grease coating his hands and running up his arms, and it makes him look even more ruggedly handsome, as if that was possible. 

“You are so pretty” you whisper, then clamp your lips together and pray it was soft enough that it doesn’t get picked up by the modulator in your helmet. Fate is not on your side today, however, and Poe glances at you with wide eyes and a smile.

“What did you say?”

“I said you look shitty.” You respond, voice hurried and nervous. 

He doesn’t buy it, not for a moment, and walks over to where you’re suspended, placing a grease covered hand on the cheek of your helmet. “You sure about that, mando?” Before walking down the ramp of the ship and towards the base. You let go a sigh you hadn’t realized you were holding before removing your helmet, and sure enough, inspecting the large grease-print he’s left on your beskar. 

“Dank ferric, Dameron.” You hiss, but he’s already gone.

* * *

You’re in your quarters, scrubbing away at the stubborn mark Poe left on your helmet, mumbling to yourself, when you’re distracted from your work by a tap on the foot. BB-8 is in front of you, beeping excitedly and rolling around your quarters. “Hey buddy,” you smile, setting your helmet down beside you to pat the little droid. 

“How's the cleaning?” comes a voice from the hallway, and you whip your head back to the doorway to see the insufferable pilot looming in it.

“Come to admire your handiwork?” You say, gesturing to the still spotted helmet beside you.

He laughs and lets himself into your quarters, looking at the various discarded armor pieces and ship pieces lying around before letting his eyes fall back to you. “Something like that, yeah.”

You feel tiny underneath the intensity of his stare, and now worry that you may have 

offended him with your comment earlier. “Look, Poe, I-”

“I was thinking about what you said earlier.”

You wince. “Oh?”

“I think you look shitty too.” He states, walking towards you and picking up the helmer from the floor. “I think you look so shitty with your helmet on.” He brushes a hand over it delicately, so carefully that you stand up immediately.

“Ok, listen, I didn’t mean-”

“You look super shitty when you’re in a flight suit too, when you join us on a mission.” He’s looking back around your room now, and your mouth is opening and closing like a fish. 

“Excuse me?”

“You look even more shitty when you meet Rey for a drink, and you wear that one green top with the,” he moves his arm across his chest to indicate a cutout, you think, when you imagine the green top he’s thinking of.

“Poe.”

“But,” and he moves to stand in front of you, his chest rising and falling quickly now, and you realize how red his cheeks are when he’s standing in front of you. “I think you look most shitty right now, with your hair like this, in your rec clothes, hanging out with bb-8.” And then Poe Dameron does the most unthinkable thing. In a quick movement, he runs his fingers over the hair by your ear, pulls his other hand up to meet your face, and cups your cheeks to bring you in for a kiss.

And oh. Oh. You get it. You get absolutely every good thing that’s ever been said about Poe Dameron before. He tastes like sweets and a little bit of alcohol and smells like fuel and something warm and musky, is it amber? He kisses you with the slowness of a nervous man and the hunger of a starved one, before pulling back and looking at you.

“Did you get it? The shitty thing? Because you said I was pretty and then shitty?”

“I got it, Poe.” You breathe, arms draped around his neck. You haven’t moved since you both pulled apart, and neither of you wants to break the moment first, worried you’ll scare it away. 

He makes the first move, going to play with a piece of hair that slipped free from your braid, running it between his fingers. “You really are pretty, Mando,” he mumbles, and you blush before opening your mouth to respond. He doesn’t let you, instead pulling you in for another kiss. Poe Dameron doesn’t need you to tell him you think he’s pretty. He already knows.

#poe dameron x reader #poe x reader #poe dameron #poe dameron x you #poe x you #sw fic #sw tfa #sw sequels #star wars fic