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sherewrytes · 23 days

Text

I'll always want you

Synopsis: Onyankopon found himself on the outs with you. He wants to find his way back to his one love. C.W: Angst, break up. Cheating Drug use (weed) Reader is black

Fanfic inspired by the following songs.

The weeknd: What you need. The weeknd Coming down

Onyankopon found himself sitting alone staring at the sky from his apartment balcony. He's wondering how things got so messed up. Thinkin' how could he mess a good thing up. He knew he had a good thing with you going but he let his insecurities get the better of him. Now he's sitting staring at the night sky, smoking a cigarette. "It's quiet....a little to quiet." He thinks to himself. He picks up his phone on the table in front of him, scrolling through texts from Eren, Hange, Sasha but not none from you. He sighed, opened Spotify and hit play on the Weeknds song " King of the Fall " He stumped out his cigarette in favor of rolling up a blunt with some AK-47 a strain you put him on. He connected his phone to speakers on the balcony and lit up, trying to clear his mental. He took another pull of his blunt, staring at the night sky thinking "The night has never been so beautiful. It's quiet and peaceful, the city lights make it even better." He found himself staring at the moon hoping the city noise and its serenity can give him the serenity he needs inside. He took another drag of his blunt, fighting back tears as memories flash and flood his mind. Moments shared on the balcony with Y/N staring at the same moon, the same city lights while enjoying nights in.

He heard a ding through the speakers indicating a text, he sees it's Eren. He sighed knowing if he doesn't respond Eren is gonna come over to his apartment and he isn't it in the mood for company

Eren: Bro come on man you sat up your apartment sulkin'

Eren: Sulking aint gonna bring Y/N back

Eren: Man I know you readin' my shit

Eren: Open the fuckin door. I'm outside with Connie and Sasha. Don't make me break down your shit.

Onyankopon sighed and strolled to his front door, blunt hanging from his mouth. He opened the door to Connie holding three pizzas, Eren with 2 six packs of Heineken and a half ounce of Sour Diesel and Sasha with a smile on her face already looking half faded. Ony sighed and opened the door further to let them in. Connie: *eyes Ony from head to toe* For a guy who fucked up his own relationship you sure look stressed.

Ony: The Fuck you said

Eren: Yo let's not start shit right Connie. We're here to chill not square up.

Ony scoffed and sat down on reaching for the half ounce. Sasha pulled the bag closer to her. Sasha: Before I let you smoke yourself insane. What really happened with you and Y/N I thought you said she was the one, so what's this I'm hearin about you fuckin around with Annie or sum shit.

Ony felt the tears welled up in his eyes again, thinking about what he did. He hanged his head contemplating on how to explain this mess. Ony: So... *sighes* I fucked up. I cheated. Y/N and I... We...well...It's not on her...It's on me.. Anyways Y/N and Annie are friends been that way since high school. Yah I know fucked up big time. At the time Y/N and I we were always arguing, she started seeing me less, doing her own thing. I did the same.

We didn't break up or take a break or nun, just arguing and shit. Annie came over to my crib to talk to me about Y/N supposedly being with another dude. Before you ask it's someone, she got paired up with for her fashion design uni course nun serious, but back to it. My dumb ass believed Annie without checkin with Y/N to find out what's going on. I just decided to get faded. Annie started feeling up on me. It was a hot minute since Y/N and I been together like that so I did what a dumb nigga would do, got more faded and fucked Annie. That's not even the worst bit.

Y/N chose that day to come over to my place. She didn't see me, but she heard the sounds. She saw Annie's car downstairs in the lot. She sat out on the balcony and waited. When I walked out my room to get a drink, I saw her... staring at me with such fuckin hate but when Annie walked out of my room, Y/N lost it. Shit got messy quick. At first, I didn't give a fuck cause I thought she was cheating. It's only when she showed me her messages and project shit, I realized i fucked up. that's all I'm willing to get into... I think about that day enough as it is. Sasha sighed handing Ony one of her rolled spliffs. Ony stared at the packed spliff then at Connie and Eren. "You guys don't have to stay here I'm good on my own man" Ony said barely above the music playing in the background.

"It's been what 5 months since then. You hardly come out other than to what go to class or to buy weed. When's the last time you got a haircut or you growing locs now" Connie said with annoyance. Ony just wanted to be left alone he knew they wouldn't leave until he was doing better, so he cracked open the beer and drank it all in one go. Eren and Connie looked at each other with slight concern but didn't say a word. Sasha lit up the spliff and passed it to Connie. The night moved on slowly. Ony was slowly coming out of his funk with his friends around. It was around 1 am when he heard a knock on his door. Connie, Eren and Sasha still at his place choppin' it up. He yelled at Connie to get the door while he went to take a leak. He came out of the toilet yellin "Who the fuck was at the door Conn....... Y/N..." He stood there in shock to see Y/N at his apartment Y/N: I just came to drop this stuff off. It's yours and well the gifts you bought me as well. I don't want them. This is the only time I worked up the courage to drop these off.Ony stared at Y/N....a loud ringing sound in his ears. He realized what her bringing back everything meant. He could see the lil stuffed bunny ears sticking out of the box. He won her that on their first date almost 2 years ago. Ony felt like he was gonna be sick. He stood there just staring at her, trying to figure out what to do or what to say. should he beg, should he just act cold, should he stay silent. Without realizing tears slid down his face. He hanged his head almost immediately. He opened his mouth and not a word came out. He shut his mouth again knowing he doesn't have the words. He continued looking down at his apartment floor and said "uhm...uhm..I..they are your stuff...Y/N I don't want them back." Y/N sighed with a bit of agitation "so you think I want them. Onyankopon just take the box so I can leave. I don't got time for this shit" Delle has never addressed him by his full name always Ony or babe or some nick name. He knew if he raised his head, he wouldn't be able to stop the tears from falling so he turned around and walked straight to the balcony and closed the sliding doors leaving Y/N with Connie, Sasha and Eren Sasha: Y/N really why now girl. You could've just dumped it or gave one of us to bring it for him and it's 2 am. You looking for closure dick. Y/N sighed ignoring Sasha and dumped the box on the floor. she stormed out the apartment only to bring up 2 more large boxes with more stuff. Ony didn't budge from the balcony. Y/N grew angrier. She stormed out the balcony and raised her voice at him. "So, you're gonna sit there and act high and fuckin mighty... you're the one who fucked all this up for what some pussy and my friend at that. Not even a random hoe. My fuckin friend Onyankopon really." Ony stayed silent, he knew he was wrong for what he did and how everything played out. He knows he should stay something, but the silence is the only thing holding his heart together. He wanted to apologize, to beg to say something but he knew Y/N and her kind heart and how much what he did hurt her. He sighed and looked up at Y/N staring her in her face knowing she can see every emotion written all over his face. Y/N stared at his face seeing his brown eyes red from heavy smoke and puffy from crying. Y/N heard the melodies of the weeknd's song Coming down through the balcony speakers. Ony did not say a single word for almost a minute then he said "Y/N I'll always want you. No matter what. *sniffles* I know I fucked up. I don't expect forgiveness or anything of the sort. I deserve what I'm getting. I'm not in the right head space for the conversation we should have. I'm high out my mind and a bit drunk. The only thing I'm good for right now is more weed maybe another drink so right now as much as I want to give you the closure you want, right now I'm not good, so just...I'll.... Y/N cuts Ony off and says "Doesn't matter you have a good fucking life."

Ony watches Delle storm off the balcony and out his apartment. He finally exhaled and let everything out. Eren was the first one outside to console him. He was truly glad that his friends choose to come over tonight.

[thank you to everyone who read this, I appreciate it sm I may do a second part with less angst.. maybe a reunion🥹]

#aot x reader #aot x black reader #aot onyankopon #onyankopon x black y/n #aot smut #attack on titan #black tumblr #black writers #aot x you #aot x y/n #onyankopon x reader

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reaveries · 1 year

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▬ a warm place for numb fingers (18+)

summary: after a conversation with a friend, tension arises between the reader and arthur. action is ultimately forced into her hands... or fingers, more like.

pairings: high honor!arthur morgan x female!reader

warnings: mature content (18+)// explicit descriptions of fingering, cunnilingus, and some good ol' fucking

word count: 5.7k (estimated 23-minute reading time)

a/n: this goes out to all the cold and horny girls out there. i see you and i salute you. enjoy the fic

masterlist archive of our own

The chill was an inescapable thing and it followed her closely wherever she went. It burned her face red whenever she emerged from the mining town cabins. When she’d been forced to ride against it in fierce storms, it possessed her hair to lash violently across her cheeks in a blinding fury. And once those storms passed, it continued to insatiably lap at any skin left exposed to its gnawing teeth. Numbness in her fingertips became commonplace, leaving her defenseless as her trigger finger trembled beneath thin leather gloves. Like a starved coyote, the chill searched for any scrap of flesh it could find and devoured it to the bone. It wasn’t forgiving, as nature often isn’t.

She draws her coat closer to her body now, but the little winds continue to hungrily nip at her cheeks and dust them pink. What once ravaged her has become meek since they’ve descended the peaks of the Grizzlies. But it’s still there, and will continue to be until spring thaws the world.

“Can’t believe I’m lookin’ at one of the most wanted outlaws this side of the Dakota.”

She looks up from her feet and sees Karen smiling, holding a cigarette between her fingers. She brings it to her lips and draws out the smoke.

“God, if the Pinkertons knew how big of a baby you really are, maybe they’d have tried their luck in Colter,” she says with a cheeky grin.

“That’s the only way those fuckers could’ve taken me down,” the outlaw says, laughing bitterly into her scarf. “I’ve never done well in the cold. Every day that I wake up and can’t feel my toes, I’m closer to packing up and fleeing to New Austin. Thinking of building myself a house made of cacti.”

She walks through the frost-laden grass to where her friend stands, overlooking the Dakota river.

“You’re fulla shit,” Karen says, rolling her eyes. “The day you leave this bunch will be the day God, himself, shoots you off your horse. Got too much love in your little heart for the lot of us.”

The woman chuckles dryly, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Got too much love for you, Karen,” she says in a sickeningly sweet tone and leans in, tilting her head dramatically to the side as if to give her a sloppy kiss.

“Get the hell away from me!” Karen screeches and fumbles to push her away.

The outlaw stumbles backward lazily with her head thrown back in laughter.

“You play around too much, you know that?” Karen says, shaking her head, but the forceful tug on the right side of her lips gives her away.

She smiles down her nose at the blonde woman, “Yeah, that’s what I keep hearin’.”

Once they both settle down, Karen extends the cigarette to her, offering whatever she can manage as it quickly dies out. She takes it between her forefinger and thumb and lets the smoke warm her from the inside.

“You know what I overheard some of the workin’ girls sayin’ when I was in town?” Karen speaks up as the smoke escapes the woman’s throat.

She hums in question. Words out of the mouth of a working girl can hardly ever be taken for truth, but damn if they weren’t entertaining.

“Apparently, the number of clients they get skyrockets in the winter months. Somethin’ about men subconsciously wantin’ to be warmed up so they seek out activities that make ‘em break a sweat.”

She nods, “I guess that makes enough sense.”

Karen shakes her head, “That’s not all. The girls were also sayin’ that as it gets colder, the men are more and more riled up. Almost like it’s something with the moon, but instead of turnin’ into the dogman, they just wanna bury themselves in a woman real bad. But all I’m hearin’ while these girls are sayin’ this is that we got ourselves a bunch of fools too dumb to think clearly down in that little town.”

She stomps the life out of the cigarette with the toe of her boot, her spurs jingling as she drives it into the dirt.

“Ain’t no way that’s true,” she says with a sardonic smile. “That last part, sure, but the moon’s got nothin’ to do with it.”

“Well, somethin’s gotta explain it,” Karen says and crosses her arms defensively across her chest. “I can tell ya, once it gets colder the men start lookin’ at ya different. I never noticed the link ‘till now but it kinda makes sense.”

She has to fight the laugh rising in her chest as she tries to seriously process the idea that men are becoming more aroused due to a giant orb in the sky. It takes everything in her not to but Karen sees right through her.

“It ain’t that ridiculous, you know. You can’t tell me you ain’t never noticed Arthur actin’ different.”

The amusement rapidly drains from her face and is replaced by a look of bewilderment.

“What are you talkin’ about Arthur for? Arthur and I are just friends, we ain’t like that,” she sputters out.

“Oh, sorry,” Karen says, putting her hands up, “I forgot you was still on that.”

Her flustered reaction surprises even herself, causing a creeping warmth to crawl its way to her cheeks. A biting retort fumbles dumbly in her mouth.

“I’m not on anything. Don’t know what got in your head but it ain’t never been like that between Arthur and me.”

“It ain’t just in my head, honey. Everyone here knows it. You think folk ain’t seein’ the way you two touch up on each other the way you do? How neither of you goes nowhere without the other? Get real. It’s plain as day to everyone but yourself.”

She tosses a quick glance over her shoulder, hoping no one is near enough to hear their conversation. Instead, she sees that the camp has slowly come to life while she’d been distracted by Karen. Folk have begun their morning chores, migrating from washboards to clothing lines or splitting logs of wood in two. Her eyes flit across their faces until they land on the one she’s searching for. He’s far enough away, speaking with Pearson by the food supplies wagon. The cook waves his hands around animatedly but he’s turned away from her so she can’t tell what they’re speaking about. Arthur looks past the man and meets her eyes. He smiles and nods at her, to which she returns with a forced thin smile of her own.

“You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, Karen,” she mutters, and without turning to say goodbye, walks away.

And yet, Karen’s words burrow themselves deep within her mind and linger in the spaces between each normal thought as the day continues. Surely she'd been exaggerating and not everyone in camp suspects her and Arthur to be intimate with each other. Karen just thinks she knows more than she does sometimes. It was very much like her to be overly confident about certain things, proclaiming them as fact even past the point she knows she’s wrong. Then again, that also wasn't the first time someone had mistaken their closeness for something more amorous in nature. Dutch, having watched her throw an arm around Arthur and share from his bottle, assumed the pair had made themselves official. This prompted some proud fatherly spiel wherein he clapped Arthur on the back and congratulated him. It was vague enough that neither of them knew what he was referring to until later. Once they both realized, it gave them a good doubled-over, tears-from-the-eyes sort of laugh. But Arthur quickly cleared it up with the man, assuring him that there was nothing of that sort going on. Apparently, Dutch remained unconvinced.

As she sharpens her knife, an interesting thought intrudes past the others. For a moment, she wonders if Arthur might be an exception to this phenomenon the working girls were talking about. He never spoke of women the way that most men did. So, if he’d ever been interested in that sort of way, she wasn’t privy to it in the slightest. But, he’s still a man and he isn’t immune to the desires of men. Could it be possible that Arthur wishes for a woman to warm his bed at night? Or perhaps, on the coldest nights, a woman to warm himself inside?

Her blade slips against the whetstone and nearly slices her hand open as depraved imagery flies behind her eyes. She curses loudly and the knife drops to the dirt with a muffled thud.

A horse gallops and skids next to the hitching post beside her and the rider quickly flies off the mount, hitting the earth with heavy feet. She looks up from her hand and it’s him. There’s a pristine buck carcass flung over the back of his mare from a hunting excursion he must be returning from.

“You alright?” He asks in a raised voice, meeting her with a walk that holds no patience. He looks down at her hands, likely expecting to see them covered in blood. His shoulders drop in relief when he can’t find any.

“I’m fine,” she says, standing up quickly and brushing dust off her pants. She forcefully clears her head of the intrusive thoughts, worried he might be able to see them if he looks too close.

“You nearly gave me a heart attack, woman. Don’t know what I’d do if you went and chopped off your trigger finger,” he says, running a stressed hand through his hair.

“You’d have to find a new riding partner, that’s for sure,” she quips unenthusiastically.

A breath of laughter leaves his lips to tell her she’s being ridiculous.

“Naw… There ain’t no replacin’ you. Ain’t a single person here has what it takes to put up with half the shit you and I do. We’d just have to teach ya to shoot with four fingers.”

His tone is lighthearted but there’s a hint of sincerity to his words that makes her cock her head in intrigue. He notices the change in her expression and quickly backpedals.

“Ah, don’t let that get to your head, now! I can barely tolerate ya most days. There’s just… no denyin’ you’re one of the best shots here,” he says, avoiding her eyes.

She smiles smugly and pats his chest.

“Tell me something I don’t know, cowboy.”

“Like I said, I can barely tolerate ya,” he says, swatting her hand off him. “Anyways, you mind takin’ that buck to Pearson? I need to have a word with Dutch about tomorrow.”

“Sure thing,” she says and slips past him to retrieve the fresh game.

She hoists the buck over her shoulder and nearly gasps from the unexpected weight. The animal is nowhere near light and it’s a wonder he managed to cleanly take down the thing. He looks over his shoulder at the sound of her boot scuffling in the dirt as she steadies herself.

She stumbles over to Pearson’s wagon and throws the carcass down on the ground. The cook is nowhere to be found so she figures she’ll save him the trouble and put her sharpened blade to good use. The knife cuts cleanly through the skin like warm butter, separating the hide from tender pink insides. As she’s making the final incisions, she looks up from the gruesome sight and sees Arthur talking to Dutch outside his tent. He seems relaxed enough, his hands resting on the buckle of his gun belt while he talks. It’s something he does often, just like someone might stuff their hands in their pockets for the sake of keeping them occupied. An endearing little action. And yet, for some reason, the common and utterly insignificant act of him doing this makes her forget herself.

Maybe it’s the suggestion of him holding a different object hidden beneath the confines of denim, right below his loose grip. Because the longer she looks, a vision of him taking himself into a fisted hand begins to overshadow her mind. He’s lying in his cot, and while everyone else huddles together for warmth in their makeshift beds, he’s fucking his hand in the darkness of his tent. His eyes are screwed shut and his mouth is parted slightly, but no noise escapes his lips to save himself the mortification of someone walking past and overhearing. He quickens the pace of his pumping hand and breathes out a quiet, ragged moan as he coats his stomach with ropes of sticky seed. His chest heaves, then slows to normal before he wipes the evidence away with a worn shirt.

Arthur looks at her with a confused look on his face. He waves a hand slowly in mock greeting to rouse her from her dazed state. Dutch, mid-sentence, turns to look over his shoulder, but she averts her eyes before they can meet his.

“Holy shit,” she whispers. She frantically finishes skinning the deer with her chin to her chest to hide the furious blush tormenting her cheeks.

Once she’s finished, she practically sprints back to her tent before Arthur can ask her what her deal is. She closes the flaps hastily and goes to sit on the edge of her bed to collect herself.

It’s not like she’s never fantasized about a person before, and she’s taken people to her bed more times than she can remember. This flustered feeling isn’t rooted in some virgin-like innocence, and yet she might as well be a pastor’s daughter with the way she’s blushing over it.

It’s because it’s him. He’s her partner. Her friend. Someone who’s grown to understand her better than she understands herself. She’s been the same person for him ever since they crossed paths in Montana all those months ago. Many feelings, albeit platonic, have come and gone since that fateful encounter, but lust? Lusting after a friend may be the most foreign feeling she’s stumbled upon in all her years of living.

A griminess so thick and so palpable enshrouds her, weighing heavily, filthily, on her skin. And there’s only one solution that comes to mind.

She straddles the firmness between her thighs as it bounces rhythmically beneath her. A moan unintentionally escapes her lips in response to the merciless feeling down below. Her blouse sticks to damp skin and plasters itself lewdly against the curves of her stomach and chest as her hips rock back and forth. Another moan. This one more pained than the last.

Her thighs have always burned something fierce whenever she’d mount her horse directly after a bath. Soft, herbal-scented skin would grate against thick cotton of riding trousers, eliciting the pained gritting of teeth. But this time, the minor uncomfortable sensation is preferable, simple, compared to the complexities of her consuming thoughts from earlier. A hot bath was her saving grace as it turned out. It cleared her head and made her feel like her normal self again. Whatever thoughts she’d been having of her partner had been washed away and left behind at the bottom of the steel tub like some tainted baptism.

She rides through the trees that fringe the perimeter of camp and calls out to Javier, who stands guarding the entrance. He gives her a short wave, and nothing else. The two of them haven’t talked much, despite having ridden together for over a year now. Most of the men in camp tend to keep to themselves, she’s noticed. It’s a shame the talkative Irish man went and got himself killed in Blackwater. He knew how to have a good time. He always claimed the two of them were kindred spirits, but she heavily denied it each time since it read like an insult.

She swings herself off the saddle and, like a moth to a lantern, migrates toward the fire to warm herself. The sun has sunk beneath the horizon and with it any amount of heat it provided, leaving her a shivering mess. Dinner bubbles inside the stew pot, prompting her to grab a portion before taking a seat on one of the logs.

The fire is reduced to glowing embers that do little to warm her bones. She nudges the logs with her boot but they just shift and plume ash. Sighing, she tugs closed the lapels of her coat and brings a spoonful of venison stew to her lips. The steaming broth slides down her throat and settles in her belly, making a furnace of her stomach. It’s a nice feeling, one that quiets her mind.

Suddenly, the log shifts as someone sits beside her.

“Where’d you disappear off to?” He asks. “I couldn’t find ya anywhere.”

Arthur settles to sit hunched over with his elbows resting on his knees, a bowl of stew in his hands. He’s wearing a dark long-sleeve shirt and a light jacket, but not much else to protect him from the cold. In fact, when she looks around, no one else seems to mind the chill as much as she does. Maybe Karen was right in calling her a baby.

“Nowhere special. I just had to go into town for a bit,” she says, taking another sip of the stew.

He nods his head, “Had to go into town and get yerself a bath, huh?”

She turns sharply to look at him, her brows drawn together in confusion.

“I could smell the lavender oil the minute ya hitched yer horse,” he explains. “What’s that about? Are ya plannin’ on finally actin’ like a lady or somethin’?”

She shoves his shoulder with her free hand.

“Shut up Arthur. You act more like a lady than I do,” she accuses. “Also, it might do ya good to take a bath for once.”

That last part she says a little lower than the first. Sometimes when they’d be out on extended errands they’d bathe in the river together. But no matter how much he scrubbed his skin, the stench of cigarette smoke and sweat would linger in the closed tent when she lay beside him in her bedroll at night. She always put up with it though because it likely meant she didn’t smell much better.

“The hell’s that s’posed to mean?” He asks, looking visibly taken aback.

“It means you smell like—”

“Naw, not that. Whatchu mean I act like a lady?”

“Oh. It means you’re goin’ all soft, big guy. Take it as a compliment,” she says, trying to suppress a smile.

“Great. First Dutch, now you. I ain’t goin’ soft, girl. And I sure as hell ain’t turnin’ into a woman,” he says, looking away from her and shaking his head. “As if you even knew what it meant to be one. Look at yerself!” He adds with an indignant wave of his hand that gestures from the top of her head to her feet.

She doesn’t need to look. Her coat is crafted from bear and bison pelts, made to fit a man larger than herself because the trapper lacked the expertise to tailor one for a woman. It keeps her warm enough, which is all that should matter. Wearing clothes that flatter her figure ranks relatively low on her list of priorities when every day is a fight to not freeze to death. On top of that, folk have always been mighty eager to remind her of her femininity whenever she dared step outside the docile role of her fairer sex. Which, in her line of work, was often.

“I’ll have you know I consider myself an expert on the matter… ma’am.”

She starts to snicker but when she looks over at him his jaw is set and he’s giving her a side-eye that makes the noise die in her throat.

“Keep callin’ me a lady and see where it gets ya, woman. Y’ain’t gonna be laughin’ when I’m forced to prove myself to ya.”

If there was ever any heat being produced in her body, it's all gone and rushed to her face just now. She stares at him, unblinking.

“What?”

“Mm, s’what I thought,” he says, bringing a spoon of potatoes and broth to his lips. “Now, if you’re done foolin’ around, are you comin’ with us tomorrow or not? Dutch said you might but I know you’ve got a lot on your plate as is.”

He said he’d prove himself to her. Prove that he’s a man. There’s hardly any innocent way to interpret that.

“Tomorrow?” She asks. “What’s happening tomorrow?”

He looks at her all funny-like, slightly annoyed even.

“Did you drink the bathwater or somethin’? The O’Driscoll told us they was all holed up in some cabin not far from here. Mentioned Colm is with’em. I only told ya about it a handful of times.”

She hears him but isn’t really listening. The phrase repeats on a loop in her head. She wants to ask him what he meant by it but the moment’s passed and she knows there’s no real answer. If asked, he’d just say he was teasing her and there’s nothing more to it.

He calls her name, bringing her out of her stupor. She opens her mouth to say something but the wind picks up. A bone-rattling shiver possesses her, making her shrink inside herself. He stares at her, unphased by the chill but with concern etched into his handsome features.

“Sorry, Arthur. I- I don’t know where my head’s at,” she says through clenched teeth.

“S’Alright,” he says, looking her over. “I forget how sensitive you are to the cold.”

He sets his bowl on the ground and brings his hands to cup around his mouth, heating them with hot breath. He then takes her hands into his and clamps around them, transferring warmth to numb fingers.

“Jesus, you’re freezin’,” he says.

He brings her hands close to his mouth and repeats the same action, trying to warm them back to life with his breath. He presses into her palms, massaging heat from the pads of his fingers into hers.

Had he done this simple gesture for her yesterday, she likely would’ve just felt grateful to feel her fingers again. But today isn’t like yesterday. Yesterday, she wasn’t acutely aware of the ever-present moisture nearly dripping down her thighs or the dull, aching pain at her core as it practically begs to be filled by a man. Yesterday, she didn’t envision that man to be Arthur. She didn’t envision herself blissed out and bouncing on his cock, being guided by his hands gripping her ass and forcing her all the way down on him every time. She also didn’t visualize their sweating naked bodies pressed against one another as he hoists her legs around his waist and fucks her relentlessly against the side of his wagon. Yesterday was, without a doubt, much easier than today. Today she’d thought of all these things and more.

She watches attentively how he holds her slender fingers in the thickness of his own. Those hands have snuffed out the lives of many, brutally at that. She’d seen them wrapped around the necks of men, crushing their windpipes and severing their spines when he’d been provoked on the wrong sort of day. Lots of blood on those hands. But there’s just as much on hers and in this moment, those blooded hands are so tender towards her.

If these same hands could kill without remorse, yet be so gentle when the time came for it, then by God, what else were they capable of?

She slips her hands out of his faster than she intended to.

“Thank you, Arthur,” she whispers, looking away.

“Sure. Maybe that’ll help ya to start actin’ normal again. Get the blood flowin’ to yer brain and such.”

If only he knew it was doing the opposite. Blood is flowing elsewhere and she’s the furthest from normal she’s been in a long while.

She stands up, leaving the bowl of stew unfinished on the ground.

“Here’s hoping,” she says, her hands clasped together to preserve his heat.

Her boots crunch ice-bitten dirt loudly beneath their heels as she makes her way through the quiet camp and to her tent. She doesn’t realize she’s holding her breath until the flaps close shut behind her.

“What… What is wrong with you?” she asks no one. Her tent is empty, and even though she wants to be alone, this is no comfort.

Her palms dig into the concave of her eye sockets, rubbing them furiously to wake herself up. She groans and shrugs off her coat, letting it collapse onto the floor. Her boots are kicked off her feet and her shirt is made quick work of before it’s thrown violently across the room. Her pants meet the same fate, being unbuttoned and kicked off, then kicked again so they lie atop the other garments. She collides with her mattress in a huff and lies there to stare at the ceiling of her tent, chest rising and falling rapidly.

She’s not going to be laughing when he’s forced to prove himself to her.

Why is that phrase repeating over and over in her head? More importantly, why is she closing her eyes and slipping her hand beneath the waistband of her combinations?

She pauses. It’s wrong to do this. So wrong. To touch herself with visions of him in her head is sick. But she needs it so badly, so desperately she needs this to be taken care of. The throbbing at her core ultimately wins over her conscience, and forcefully pushes guilt to the side.

Her fingers slide between the delicate folds down below, the slick moisture coating her digits easily. She imagines it’s his hand. Large and warm, playing with her and teasing out moans by dancing around her clit. He asks her if it feels good, but only incoherent noises leave her lips.

He chuckles and the breath of his laughter hits her center as he dips his head between her thighs. Lips replace fingers, sucking and leaving open-mouthed kisses heavy with tongue, ravishing her like a starved man. Her thighs clench around him and her calves tremble against his bare back. She whispers praises to him when she can find the words.

Please keep going. You’re doing so good. So good.

Both of her hands tangle themselves in his hair. She can’t help but pull on the strands the minute he slides his thumb inside her all the way to the knuckle. Her back arches off the cot at the sudden sensation but he pulls her back down, locking her in with a hand wrapped around her thigh. She can feel him smile against her, momentarily letting up the relentless forces of his mouth. He’s loving watching her squirm beneath him, because of him.

But the combined sensation of his thumb fucking her and the concentrated movements of his tongue at her clit nearly drive her to the edge. She squirms and brings her knees up around him, causing him to pull away and leave her empty.

Ya have to keep still, darlin’.

He coaxes her legs back open, spreading them apart with firm hands. But before he can return, she whispers desperate words that fall sweetly on his ears. He changes direction and begins to kiss his way north, traces of her still on his lips as they press wetly to her stomach, then her breasts, and then her neck. While he trails up her jaw, she tugs down his union suit from where it gathers at his hips. He assists her clumsily by shaking it off his legs and kicking it to the floor, where it now lies atop her own discarded clothing.

Before he takes her, he hovers on rested elbows and searches her face for any sign of reluctance. Only half of his features she can see clearly as warm oranges and yellows flicker across it from the lantern at her bedside. The fringe of his hair tickles her forehead, teasing her into closing the distance between them. With a hand on the back of his neck, she brings him down to her level and connects their lips. Their mouths move roughly against one another, their noses squishing and bending against the pressure of their touch.

He’s warm, so warm. His mouth is hot against her tongue and the points on her body where the two of them meet are ablaze with a fire that spreads down, and down, until it rests in a sweltering mess at the apex of her thighs. She needs him, were the words she’d whispered. And she needs him now. She reaches down between their two bodies to where his cock grazes against her legs and with a sure hand, takes hold of it and guides it to her entrance. She can’t see it but it feels thick in her grasp; her hold not permitting thumb and forefinger to meet.

The head slips gently inside and opens her up to him with a slow, shallow movement of his hips. He removes his lips from hers and rests his forehead against her own, looking down and indulgently watching himself disappear inside of her inch by inch. It fills her deliciously, stretching her open until he eventually bottoms out and their pelvises lie flush with one another. She lets out a sharp exhale at the contact, knowing he’s sheathed fully inside of her. Before he moves again, she brings her legs around his waist and crosses her ankles so his movements are limited to being shallow and forceful.

The cot squeaks beneath them as he pulls out and thrusts back in, slow at first. He quickly picks up the pace, pistoling his hips to give short thrusts that fill her to the hilt each time with a near-bruising force. One hand wraps around the meat of her thigh and another hand starts rubbing furious circles at her clit. She throws her head back with a wide-opened gasp at the explosive euphoric sensation of being filled by him and the simultaneous attention given to the sensitive nub. He goes even faster when he sees how close she is, and within seconds she unravels beneath him.

She notices through her clouded gaze his brows screwing together and lips parting as her soft muscles throb around the swell of his cock. It’s too much for him. He hurriedly pulls out and releases himself on her belly, coating it with spurts of his seed. He looks at her breathlessly through hooded eyes.

The two of them lie panting, him still stationed between her legs with a heaving chest and weary gaze. He leans down and places a chaste kiss on the inside of her thigh before slumping beside her and laying there in his nakedness.

She cums hard against diligent fingers. Hot and tingly ecstacy spreads from her core throughout her limbs, fluttering her eyes to the back of her skull and leaving her a panting mess. Once that passes and the drowsiness that always follows a dumbing climax sets in, she realizes she’d conjured a strange ending to her fantasy. It was one of genuine intimacy, not driven by the carnal desires of her body.

Thankfully, sleep takes over before she can begin trying to process whatever that means. She drifts off as remnants of pleasure buzz beneath her skin and warm her beneath ticking sheets.

Morning comes quickly, and the accompanying chill of a new day forces her off the cot in search of heavier clothing. She pulls fleece-lined chaps over jeans and buttons them at the waist before throwing on the bear coat she’s worn every day since Colter. As she slips her arms into the clothing, she thinks back on last night. There’s no reason to make a big deal of it. Surely men get off with much worse ideas in their heads about the people they know. She hopes all of that is behind her now that it’s been forced out of her system.

But this is not the case.

This hope is massacred in vain shortly after being conceived. For the day is ablaze with yearning, shame, and raging inferno.

Accompanying Arthur to the hideout was soon realized as a mistake. Every small, inconsequential thing he did served to stoke the fire blistering her loins. Every word whispered atop the secluded hillock, every incidental brushing of skin, and every intentional one too. It all fanned incessantly at consuming flames.

She rides back to camp alone with heavy pockets and a heavier conscience. And as she approaches the grounds, she sees her friend, the blonde woman, standing guard outside. Without thought, she throws her reins and swings herself off the horse, hitting the earth hard and swift. A blustering storm brews inside her, fighting against fire and losing. She approaches Karen, treading heavily over branch and stone, a wild look in her eyes.

“Karen!” She calls out.

The woman turns to face her, her rifle lowering just as quickly as it’s raised.

“Oh, it’s just you. You here to tell me I don’t know what I’m talkin’ about again? If so, you can keep on walkin’, bigshot.”

She sighs and runs a frustrated hand through her wind-tangled hair.

“No! No, I- I didn’t mean it,” she says, with an unmistakable sound of desperation in her voice. “Karen, you were right.”

Karen’s tensed shoulders sink beneath her coat and her features soften. She doesn’t seem to understand, but she’s no longer angry. It’s difficult to be when her friend stands before her, uncharacteristically vulnerable and fumbling with words.

Whatever forces are at work here, be it the chill, the moon, or an unknown third thing, it can be certain she is out of her depth, adrift in deep ice waters. And he is calling to her like a siren’s song but she knows it is an illusion she has conjured up and there is no solace allowed to be found there. He cannot take her like she needs so deeply to be taken by him. It would ruin them, for certain. Because they are not a wholesome people, and despite that, their bond has been forged by goodness. Something like that is uncommon for folk like themselves. It should be held closely, protected from whatever may destroy it, even if it is from herself. It’s for that reason she withdraws her hand, rides alone, averts wandering eyes, and tries her utmost best to quench the flames.

And yet, it has been only a day.

“You were right.”

#red dead redemption 2 fanfic #red dead redemption 2 x reader #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #rdr #rdr2 fic #rdr2 x reader #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur x reader #smut #rdr2 smut #red dead redemption smut #arthur morgan x reader smut

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maybnksdoll · 2 months

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rafe cameron x fem!innocent!reader ♡

" exams week "

the exams week was closer and closer, and every second was worth it, so u didn't take out your eyes from your textbooks, writing long notes and marking everything you could with pastel markers.

rafe was starting to worrying, since you loved spending time out (and more if you were with him), he saw it strange that somedays you didn't even got out from your room, barely talking or texting to him like usually.

the week before the exams, your head started to feel dizzier and heavier, like a little moster was jumping inside your brain, making you hurt and incapable to think. even sipping the fresh glass of water on your desk, opening the windows, putting relaxing music or whatever, something obviously was off it's place.

"hey babydoll" you noticed how rafe's body lied on the door, looking at you. you made a sound, just to make him believe you were listening, without quitting your eyes from that geography textbook.

"i was wondering if we could go out tonight, we can go anywhere you want and then we..." he interrupted himself when he noticed how you started mumbling the coordinates of some european cities. that was enough.

"okay, im fucking done" he yelled while strongly walking into your chair and spinning it with a single hand, making you squeak "put this fucking books n' shit in your damn bag cuz otherwise I'll burn them, ya hearin?" you felt a little tear running down your cheek, making your hands shakes.

"uh, m sorry, rafey... i ... i j-just" he looked how other tears were falling from your sad and scared eyes, wetting the hand that was pulling your sweater. he understood your feelings, he knew you were nervous and insecure, otherwise you two wouldn't be in that situation.

carefully, he straighted up the chair, and took you from the waist to take you into the bed, were he sitted, holding you while you cried.

"baby, 'm sorry, i just..." you interrupted him jumping into his neck, wrapping your arms around his big shoulders, tearing in his t-shirt.

"everything 'sgonna be alright, pretty" he comforted you, running his fingers through your soft hair "okay? i love you and i know youre going to pass the damn exams, don't worry 'bout it love" he gently pulled your head out of his shoulder, making you face him, deleting your tiny tears from you rosy cheeks.

after maybe one hour and half, you packed your textbooks and markers into your school bag, so you could take a fresh shower, put a little dress on and go out with rafe in a lovely and cozy date at the beach, eating ice cream while watching the sunset in the sand.

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rookthorne · 11 months

Text

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬

Who knew uttering a simple phrase would turn the man that had only ever been gentle and teasing, into a feral beast with only one goal in mind — to ruin you?

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ✯ Mechanic!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ✯ 1.9k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ✯ Fluff, kink discovery ჻჻჻ SMUT: Unprotected piv, Dom/Sub undertones, so much dirty talk ჻჻჻ KINKS: Sir, praise, degradation

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ✯ Well, this happened. I will be recovering from this one for the foreseeable future.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 ✯ Hysteria by Def Leppard

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 ✯ @buckybarnesevents Hot Bucky Summer ჻჻჻ Week 2 — Sir — Masterlist

𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The day had passed swiftly – a day in Bucky’s garage was always going to lead to some interesting spectacles of testosterone fuelled fights and petty pranks, and you weren’t going to lie, you were tired. Your bed was calling your name and you were more than eagerly following the call, and Bucky realised that as he sat at his desk, packing away the last of the day’s invoices and paperwork since everyone else had gone home.

“Go wait at the car, doll,” he murmured, smiling softly. “I’ll take you home. You look dead on your feet.” You watched as he stood from his wheelie chair and placed the papers in the filing cabinet. “Go on.”

You stretched, yawned, and without considering your words, you spoke a breathy, high-pitched, “Yessir.”

The room suddenly became stifling, the air thick with a tension that made your heart race, and you glanced at Bucky to see him frozen – muscled shoulders tense and hands mid motion, he looked like he had stopped breathing.

“Buck–?”

He remained frozen in place, as still as a marble statue. “I-I’ll see you at the car, okay?”

You grabbed your jacket and made your way to the door, but a rough, raspy voice spoke just as you reached the threshold. “What did you just say?”

“I said I’d see you at the car…?”

Bucky turned, and you let out a quiet breath. His eyes had turned dark, a determined and absolutely savaged glint flashing across them as he stared into your face, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. “No,” he said lowly, crossing his arms across his chest – his far too muscled and tattooed arms. “Before that–what did you say to me?”

“Oh,” you whispered dumbly. Well, fuck, you thought. “Uh… I said yessir.”

The glint in his eyes became piercing, and he tilted his head, his arms still crossed. “Come here.”

“Wha- Why? Didn’t you want to–”

“I said, come here.” The tone of his voice sent a shiver up your spine – he looked like a caged animal, barely able to contain whatever lust that seared his being, and it was a sight to behold watching him try and restrain himself. “Don’t make me repeat myself, sweetheart.”

“Alright,” you said shakily, stepping back into the middle of the room, just next to Bucky’s desk, and he slowly advanced. “What’s wrong?”

Bucky shook his head once, maintaining eye contact that you refused to break as he loomed over you. “Nothin’s wrong, doll,” he purred, his voice honeyed. The space between the two of you was narrowing and it became charged with tension. “Just hearin’ you call me sir…”

“I didn’t know–” You tried to defend yourself, but you couldn’t deny the heat that had pooled in your throbbing cunt – if only he’d stop looking at you like that, you could focus.

“I know you didn’t, sweetheart,” Bucky cooed, “neither did I, but now…” He took a deep breath through his nose, letting it out with a sigh as he leant over you and forced you back against the desk, his arms trapping you. “Now ‘m gonna fuck you on this desk ‘till you cum for your sir.”

“Oh,” you gasped, eyes widening as Bucky reached behind you and swiped everything off the desk, before lifting you up and onto the edge. “Fuck, Bucky.”

“Not yet,” he said, pulling his shirt off with such haste you were surprised it didn’t rip – though the sight of his muscled and tattooed chest and stomach left you unable to caution him to slow the fuck down. The buttons of his jeans came undone under your trembling fingers, when Bucky grabbed your hands, bringing them up to his lips to kiss your palms, his voice soft as he muttered into your skin, “D’you want this? We can stop–”

“Don’t you dare stop,” you rushed, the pulse and ache between your legs becoming too much. “Fuck me, sir.”

Bucky moaned huskily and surged forward, claiming your lips in a heated kiss of tongue and teeth – a fight for control that you valiantly battled for, but conceded with a gasp when Bucky cupped your clothed sex. “You’re wearin’ too much, sweetheart,” he growled, and you nodded, hastening to pull your pants and shirt off.

A moment later, you lay bare before him, his jeans around his thighs and his leaking cock free from the confines of his briefs. The throbbing length of it brushed against your thigh, and you sighed happily when Bucky moved to spread your thighs further apart, a low whistle on his lips. “Such a pretty pussy, baby, and it’s all mine, huh?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, grabbing at his hands to pull him close, but he stood just out of reach and tutted.

“Who’s pussy is this, sweetheart?” Each word he spoke was punctuated with a soft circle of his thumb against your clit. “Tell me.”

“S’yours, Bucky, fuck–” You squeaked when he pinched your thigh in reprimand, his heated glare making you shiver. “Sorry, sorry, I meant sir.”

“Say it like you mean it, baby, I know you can,” Bucky ordered, leaning down so his lips brushed against your collarbone.

“Sir’s pussy!” You cried suddenly, Bucky’s teeth scraping your skin with a dark chuckle. “Please, it’s sir’s pussy, it’s yours!”

“That’s right, doll,” Bucky rumbled, his weight setting against you as he stepped closer, nestling himself between your open thighs more comfortably. “It’s mine.” The brush of his cock at your folds made you keen. “Shh,” he whispered. “Gonna fuckin’ fill you up, baby, I’ve gotchu.”

The feeling of the head of his cock slipping into your cunt made you gasp, and Bucky continued to slowly push in, his breath heavy against your neck. “Almost there, baby, you can take it,” he soothed, “you feel so fuckin’ good around me, doll, fuck.”

“Bucky! Sir, please, please- Oh, god,” you moaned, biting your lip as he moved to the hilt – the feeling of finally being full indescribable.

“Oh, fuck,” Bucky whimpered, halting his movements and he bit your shoulder, the sharp sting making your cunt pulse. “Don’t–fuck, don’t move, ‘m not gonna last if you move.”

You chuckled breathily and grabbed his shoulder with one hand, the other threading into his hair to pull him away from your neck. He gasped quietly at the movement, and you looked up at him with doe eyes. “Kiss me.”

Bucky kissed you, the passion behind it leaving you breathless and you moaned against his lips. “Move–you can move,” you whispered, grinning at him.

“Fuck,” Bucky breathed, and he tested the waters by pulling out slow, and thrusting back in just as slow. It was maddening.

“Fuck me, sir, c’mon,” you whimpered, bearing down around him with every word. Bucky’s breath hitched and you stifled the laugh that threatened to burst free. “I need it–need sir’s big cock.”

“Good god,” Bucky moaned. “Such a filthy fuckin’ mouth, sweetheart.”

His hips started to move, a faster pace that left him grunting with the effort. “Yes, just like that,” you moaned, marvelling at the way he reached so deep within you and made you see stars on every thrust. “Fuck yes, sir!”

“Feel s’good on my cock, doll, goddamn,” Bucky grit out, his hips now pistoning in and out. “Not gonna last, baby, need t’a fuckin’ cum.”

“Wan’ it, sir,” you breathed, grinning wickedly up at him. “Give me it, ‘m a slut for my sir’s cum.”

Bucky’s pace faltered, and he groaned loudly. “Jesus, the fuck is this? Where you been hidin’ this?” You giggled and bit your lip, raising a brow. “Alright,” he breathed, gripping your hips tightly. “You wan’ your sir’s cum, huh? You wanna be sir’s whore?”

“Please,” you rushed, nodding.

“Good girl,” Bucky murmured, starting to thrust hard so each one punched the air from your lungs. “Then fuckin’ take it.”

The pace turned punishing – each slick drag of his cock against your walls making your thighs shake while a litany of cries and moans for more filled the air, as well as the wet sounds of his dick in your heat; the sound of skin slapping against skin.

A sharp stab of pleasure turned into a dull roar when Bucky’s fingers found your clit, circling it in time with his thrusts. “You like that, huh, slut?”

“Yes! God, yes!” You shouted, gasping for breath when he didn’t relent in his pace. “Fuck, fuck, oh fuck, babe–”

“Be a good girl and call me by my name, sweetheart,” Bucky growled, and you didn’t miss the breathy tone to his voice – he was close. “Do it, then you can cum.”

“Sir! Sir, please- Oh, please, wanna come,” you babbled, and Bucky grinned, his pace quickening and strokes going deeper, like he was searching for something – which he found not even a second later, a searing white-hot surge of pleasure blinding you.

“There it is,” he breathed. “There you go, fuckin’ whore for your sir’s cock, aren’t you?”

You hiccuped and writhed, knocking off the last of the pens and papers on the desk to the floor. Red lines followed your nails as you clawed at Bucky’s arms. “Fuck yeah, I am, ‘m close, sir!”

“Oh, doll, you look so pretty like this, like a fuckin’ goddess,” Bucky murmured, and you whimpered as he leant back over you, his breath hot on your ear. “Now fuckin’ cum like one for me–cum like the slut you are.” The words cascaded over you, and you thrashed on his desk as the pleasure consumed you whole.

“That’s it, baby, give it to me,” Bucky moaned, his hips faltering through your release. “Fuck, need t’a cum in you, lemme in, baby–you’re so fuckin’ tight, good god,” he panted, and you whimpered as the tail end of your climax made you jerk, your thighs still shaking.

“Cum for me, sir, please,” you whined, pulling him into a kiss. Pulling back, your breath fanned across his slack lips as he grunted with each thrust. “Fill me up, sir, wanna feel you cum.”

“Oh, god,” Bucky groaned. “‘M gonna fill you up, sweetheart, ‘m so close, fuck.”

You latched onto the column of Bucky’s throat and sucked, moving your hips in time with his faltering rhythm, until he started to moan on every breath. “Let go, sir,” you whispered, grabbing his face so you could stare into his eyes. “Cum in me, fill me up.”

Bucky’s hips jolted and he whined, a loud cry that bounced off the walls when you felt warmth bloom, and he pistoned his hips harder and faster into your cunt, the squelch of his release making the slide easier. “‘M coming! Fuck, fuck–”

“Feels s’good, sir,” you moaned, gripping his shoulders as he panted for breath.

A few moments passed with you two catching your breaths, touches gentle and soothing as you came down from your collective high.

“Goddamn,” Bucky gasped, resting his weight on shaky arms. “The fuck did that come from, doll?”

You laughed. “Oh, y’know,” you mumbled, and Bucky raised a brow. “Dream of you fucking me like this all the time–a girl picks up a few tricks.”

A heavy breath left Bucky’s lips, and suddenly, you’re sitting up on his desk, dishevelled and leaking his spend down your thighs while he does up his jeans. “Wha–?”

“I’m takin’ you home,” Bucky said quickly, regarding the mess of papers and pens with a shrug before helping you back into your clothes. “And we’re gonna make all those dreams come true.”

The mess left behind in the office was the last thing on your mind as Bucky picked you up and carried you to his car, his jacket over your shoulders, and a smug grin on his lips. And you found you couldn’t wait to share everything you had dreamt of, after all, if it ended like that each time? You would not complain – not in the slightest.

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #hotbuckysummer2023 #rookthorne's works #After Hours

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lemonnsss · 8 months

Text

Moral of the Story pt.1

Warnings: cheating, illusions to sex, angst, not BETA'D we die like men.

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4

Taglist: @vicmc624, @mostlymarvelgirl, @yvonneeeee, @beetlejuicesupremacy, @moonlightreader649, @whattheduckisupkyle, @chrisevans-realwife, @nekoannie-chan, @mrsbarnes32557038, @imyourbratzdoll

Word count: 1k

I was sitting around the bonfire with the other faculty at Xavier’s after all the students had gone to bed: talking shit, spilling fresh gossip, and discussing all the latest trends. Next to me was my best friend, Ororo when she said, “You do know Logan’s cheating on you, right?”

“Please, Storm. We’ve been over this. There’s no way he does that, it just isn’t like him.”

“Please,” she begged, “everyone else on campus knows, we see the subtle glances, we hear the quiet ‘I Love You’s, we smell his cologne on her so why can’t you see it?”

She and I had had a big fight about this earlier, to her it was as obvious as the sun. I was holding on to something that wasn’t there, a distant memory long forgotten by him

I didn’t believe what they said- moreover, I couldn’t believe- Logan was the first thing in my life that I knew Jean couldn’t cheat me out of or beat me at. Walking down the hall in the teachers’ wing I heard moaning and grunting coming from Jean and Scott’s room, two definite voices.

I had seen Scott less than five minutes ago when I left the bonfire, and that’s when it dawned on me. I crept over to their door, wanting to catch this mysterious offender who Jean was cheating with, a soft gasp escaped my lips when I peered through the crack.

There on the bed lay the Jean Gray who had bested me at everything in life legs wide open with her brassiere unclasped at the front with a barely concealed Logan between her thighs.

Tears welled in my eyes as I took a step back, unsure of what I was supposed to do. I mean, no one tells you what to do if you see your boyfriend of three years fucking another woman.

Walking into our shared room I started packing away my things, everything that was valuable enough to bring with me. I knew I had to come back for the rest but I couldn’t think about that now, I just wanted out.

After I fill my duffle bags and suitcases, I go to make my way out of the door when Logan walks in, looking like he had just gotten out of the shower.

“Honey, whatcha doing? Thought you wanted to stay out at the bonfire a little longer.”

“Cut the shit, Lo. I know everything.” I move towards the door, and he grabs my arm.

“Sugar, I don’t know what you’re talking ‘bout, you’re gonna have to be more specific than that.” He says while slightly pushing my baggage down.

“I saw you,” I let out a shaky breath, “ I saw you with Jean just then. I trusted you! Even when everyone told me you were cheating I trusted you! Why would you do this to me, Logan?”

He stood there. Silent, still. As if processing what I had just said. Not moving even an inch.

A few minutes must have passed before he moved to bring his hand to my cheek before I shied away. “Sweetie, baby, please,” he begged, a thing I seldom saw from him, ”I swear, that was the only time.”

“Really? Because the rest of the faculty, save Scott and Professor Xavier, has been telling me all this for months!” I didn’t care if I woke the entire school, I had been wronged and cheated by the one person I trusted with my deepest fears and my insecurities. The man I had wanted to spend the rest of my life mere hours earlier betrayed me in a way no one should have to experience, and I would let him fucking know.

After hours of yelling at Logan, my voice was hoarse and raw as tears streamed down my face, people began to run over to the faculty wing to find out what the commotion was all about, hearing the scandalous but anticipated news and spreading it down the chain. Until everyone from the bonfire called it a night only to find they couldn’t even get to their rooms with the amount of people crowded around.

Scott shoved his way through to the front as I yelled, hearing me say his partner's name in the context of cheating, he looked at her, across the hall from where Logan and I stood, hope draining from his eyes and he understood that she had chosen Logan while trying to keep him along.

“I’m sorry, you had to find out this way, Scott,” I say, apologizing to Jean once again.

He turns around and the crowd separates like the Red Sea for him, now with Jean following, apologizing, begging for him to forget about this, how it didn’t mean anything to her, to turn over a new leaf; to wipe the slate clean. He doesn’t face her, not while I can see.

I pick up my bags again just for Logan to reach out once again, “Please?”

He sits there silently begging. I pull away, watching the hope in his eyes crumble.

“We both know it’s too late for that, Lo.”

The crowd separates once more as I make my way down the stairs, out the front door, and to the garage where my 65’ Thunderbird sits. Popping the trunk, I picked up my suitcase when I saw a silver streak of light pass by.

“You’re gonna leave, just like that?” Peter says, leaning back on the driver’s door.

“What else should I do? It’s not like I want to see them after this.” I load my smaller bags in and shut the trunk before moving to the door.

“That’s fair.” Peter says, backing away, ”But is there nothing else keeping you here?”

A soft gaze met mine, practically begging me to stay.

“Pete, I don’t need another reminder that I’m nothing but sub-par in comparison to the great Jean Gray. I don’t want to feel like that anymore. I’ve been compared to her my entire life, it’s time I meet someone who sees me for me.”

And with the nod of his head, I drove out of Xavier’s School of Gifted Children for the last time.

#fanfic #mcu fanfiction #fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #captain america #captain america x reader #wolverine #wolverine x reader #mcu #mcu x reader #marvel mcu #logan howlett x reader #xmen x reader #xmen #logan howlett #xmen fanfiction

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drtyelvisfantasy · 4 months

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Solider Boy💌🤍

parings: 50s!Elvis x female!reader

summary: Elvis has been stationed in Germany for 3 years, but to your love is the only thing that’s keeping you going

songs for the fic: Solider Boy- Elvis Presley, It’s Been A Long, Long Time- Kitty Allen, I Love You For Sentimental Reasons,m- The Righteous Brothers

The news of Elvis's deployment to Germany weighed heavily on you and Elvis’s hearts. You both sat together in your small living room, hands intertwined, grappling with the impending separation.

"I can't believe it's happening, El," you murmured, with tears in your eyes and your voice filled with sorrow.

"I know, baby. I wish I didn't have to go," Elvis said softly, pulling you into a tight embrace. "But duty calls."

She buried her face in his chest, clinging to him as if to delay the inevitable. "Three years... it feels like an eternity."

You looked up at him, your gaze searching his eyes for solace. "Promise me, Elvis. Promise me you won't forget. That you'll come back."

He stroked your hair gently, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I promise, darlin'. I'll write ya every day. Call ya whenever I can. You won't feel like I'm far away."

As the day of departure drew near, your home was filled with bittersweet moments. As you were packing your bags tears started to well in your eyes,

“I can’t believe you’re leaving, Elvis”, you say while wiping away your tears.

“Aw, c’mon now. Don’t cry, baby. It’s gonna be alright.” He says to as he hold you in his arms.

“Why do they have to take you away from me for so long? It’s not fair.”

At the airport, your last moments together were a silent conversation of love, spoken through tearful gazes and tight embraces. "I love you, Elvis," with tears rolling down your face as you whispered, your voice quivering with emotion.

"I love you too, sweetheart. More than anything," Elvis replied, holding her as if trying to freeze time.

When Elvis saw you crying he immediately comforted you. “Hey, satnin don’t cry. The last thing I wanna see is a sad lil face as I’m leaving.”

“Promise me you’ll take care of yourself? Please Elvis.”

“I promise baby. I’ll be safe. Take care of yourself too, okay?”

You nodded in agreement. Seeing him board that plane knowing you won’t see him for three years was the most heartbreaking thing ever. But his promises to write you letters and call you any chance he gets was the only thing kept you sane.

True to his word, letters from Elvis arrived regularly, each one a lifeline across the distance. Pages filled with his thoughts, his yearnings, his unwavering love for you. You cherished every word, reading and rereading, feeling his presence in every carefully penned line.

The phone became your sanctuary, the ring signaling the nightly connection across continents. "How's my girl doing today?" Elvis's voice would crackle through the line.

"I miss you, El," she'd reply, her voice filled with longing. "But your letters... they keep me going."

“I know, darlin’. Wish I could be there holdin’ you right now”.

“Me too El. But hearing your voice… it’s comforting.” You say wishfully.

“I reckon it’s the same for me, hearin’ your voice. Makes this place feel a little less lonely.” Elvis says with a smile on his face.

“You’re not causing a ruckus over there, are you?”, you say teasingly.

“Nah, just keepin’ my head down. But I’m countin’ the days ‘til I’m back home with you”

“Can’t wait for that day, El”.

“Me neither, baby. ‘Til then, just hold on tight. I’m right here, thinkin’ ’bout you every minute.”

Your conversation continued, each word spoken across the miles carrying the weight of the love the two of you shared, bridging the gap between them until the two of you could be together again.

Months turned into a year, then two. Yet, your love remained steadfast, growing stronger with each letter, each call, a testament to your unwavering commitment.

The day finally arrived when Elvis returned home. The anticipation, the nerves, the overwhelming joy—they all collided as you stood at the airport, scanning the crowd until your eyes met his.

Your reunion with Elvis was a whirlwind of emotions, tears, and laughter. You both held each other as if trying to merge into one, the both of your hearts finally reunited after enduring the agony of separation.

"You're home, El," you whispered, your voice filled with disbelief and joy.

"I kept my promise, baby," Elvis said, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "I'm back where I belong—with you."

His embrace spoke volumes, reaffirming the love that had withstood the test of time and distance. As the two of you walked hand in hand, heading back to their shared home, you both knew that no amount of separation could diminish the love the two of you held for each other.

#elvis presley x reader #elvis presley fluff #austin!elvis x reader #elvis presley #austin butler x reader #elvis presley x you #50s elvis #happy birthday Elvis

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telail · 6 months

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Always Watching [Crazy 4u] | SMG

pairing: ateez s.m.g. x fem!reader genre: yandere (?) poc friendly, established relationship, Psycho bf wc: 1k (1,078) warnings: language, stalking, obsessive behavior

a/n: what if I told yall I wrote this half asleep? Is it obvious? masterlist

Mingi loved you with his entire heart. He was obsessed with you and that was no secret, and he made sure of that. He'd do anything for you, anything to keep you out of harms way.. that includes watching your every move 24/7.

Mingi had a terrible pattern of following you around. Throughout the beginning of your relationship you thought nothing of it, even finding it cute at one point. Describing his behavior as though he were a "puppy following around their owner" when in reality it went far deeper than that, and Mingi knew that.

He'd always had this tendency to watch over and protect the ones he cared for but you, you needed more than that. He needed to make sure you were okay every second because if he wasn't there to protect his baby then who would be? Nobody could ever protect you like he could.

He developed the habit of not only just following you around the house or trying to go everywhere with you- but following you during circumstances where you were supposed to be away from him.

Whether it be going out with a friend, or going to run errands, you always somehow found yourself bumping into him. And the first thing he'd say when he "pretended" to just coincidentally be in the same place as you is anything along the lines of asking if you're alright or if you "need to go home".

After about 3 times of it happening you started to catch on, you weren't an idiot for crying out loud.

Wanting to confirm your suspicions head on, you went to Mingi and had a talk with him, asking him if he'd really just happened to be around whenever you would go certain places to which he nonchalantly admitted that he was just there to "see" you.

His casualty about the entire thing caught you a bit off guard and it quite literally left you speechless. After that conversation it clicked for you. He's crazy. As hell.

You'd decided to have a night out with your friends for the first time in forever. Beforehand Mingi had tried convincing you to stay in with him and that it was "too dangerous" to go out on a Friday night. But you insisted and ultimately he failed at keeping you in which fucked with his attitude a bit before he remembered that he could just.. follow you.

You'd arrived to the packed nightclub about 3 hours ago, well into your night out you were ecstatic. Having drinks, gossiping with your girls, and shaking ass. The thought of your borderline psychotic ass boyfriend possibly seeing you slipping your mind completely, the influence of the alcohol making your memory no better.

Once you'd gotten off the dance floor you went to the bar to order one more drink for the night. You leaned over the bar counter just about to catch the bartenders attention before you felt your phone suddenly start to buzz in your bra. Which of course you pulled out in no time checking the contact. It was Mingi.

"Hello?!" You answered, trying to talk over the rather loud music.

"Hey baby, when did you plan on comin' home?" He asked, slight irritation lacing his voice.

"I-I'm on my way back now we're in the car!!" You lied, you knew that Mingi could be impatient you didn't want him to get upset because one thing he never fails at is being petty and you simply just didn't feel like dealing with it tonight.

"Yeah? So wassup with the loud ass music i'm hearin' hm?" He inquired, you could already see where this was going and it damn near sobered you up completely as you remembered that he has in fact followed you multiple times before and he could very well be in the vicinity right now.

"They're just playing the music really loud, still hyped from the club I guess." You said nervously chuckling as you leaned up a bit from off the bar counter before trying to switch the topic with Mingi. "But anyways I'll call you when I'm clos-" your heart dropped when he cut you off.

"Oh okay, so this ain't you in that tight ass latex skirt standing by the bar right now? Phone held up to your ear?" He asked, his tone low but firm. You could practically see his face right now, jaw clenched and eyes low. He wasn't far and you were too late to realize.

You internally panicked as you took the phone away from your ear for a moment and whipped your head around in multiple directions looking for any signs of him.

You definitely wouldn't have spotted him if not for him revealing himself to you, stepping through the crowd rather easily. His size alone intimidated people enough to move out of his way.

He was wearing an all black zip up jacket with a white tee underneath. His black Yankees baseball cap sitting snug on his head as he approached you, waving his phone with your caller ID on it as he did so before hanging up once he got to you.

"On your way back my ass." He scoffed looking down at you before leaning over you and caging you in on either side with his arms braced against the edge of the bar counter- making you feel way smaller than what you actually were. "I-" you went to speak but nothing came out. He looked at you unamused before coming close to your ear. "Text your friends, tell them you'll be going home." He mumbled in your ear. "What? Ming-" you started but he wasn't having it.

He smacked his teeth and squinted at you, that being enough for you to let out a frustrated huff and do it. The only reason you were complying is because you were kind of tired anyway and dare you say, you found this entire situation a bit exciting. It wasn't healthy by any means and you knew that, he shouldn't be like this and you shouldn't be so accepting of it but you somewhat found it attractive.

"You're fucking crazy." You said as you sent the text to your friends group chat, hoping they'd see it soon so they didn't think you got kidnapped or ditched them.

"Only for you baby." He responded, grabbing your hand and giving it a light squeeze before leading you towards the exit of the bar.

Excuse any mistakes. :P

#ateez #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez mingi #ateez scenarios #song mingi

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aphroditesswan · 9 months

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pink dolphin sunset

stoner suna rintarou x latina stoner reader

warnings : weed usage, mention of lighters and smoke cuz well,, it’s weed. implied underaged smoking also terrible google translate spanish cause i didn’t grow up latin i grew up filipino so i’m a no sabo kid 😭🙏

notes : book of life ref if u haven’t seen it go see it NOWWWWW. all lowercase is intended btw.

summary : suna had invited you on a date, just to lounge around and smoke in his car late at night and wow, how could you ever possibly refuse that offer??

genre : mostly fluff i think

suna was always plain faced. he always had this look in his eyes that could only be described as empty but not in the sad way, in the way that there simply wasn’t a thought behind those dark, almost beady eyes.

well, except for when he looked at you.

the eyes that showed nothing but boredom would suddenly soften at the mention of you, at the sight of you, at hearing your voice or even catching your eyes in a brief meaningless glance across the room.

you don’t even know how you got here. you’re sitting in the front seat of his car, some tory lanez song playing cause you shuffled his playlist, one he totallyyy didn’t make in advance for when this happened, talking and sharing a bong with a bowl that’s been packed maybe ten times.

it’s safe to say the both are high and throughly dumbed out. suna’s ignoring the vibrating messages from his pocket, only staring into your eyes as he holds the light to the bowl to light it up for you like any good man would do. you wait, sucking up the smoke once the time comes, throwing your head back to make a couple ‘o’s with the smoke. it’s the best you can do for now, a bit too focused on the lovesick eyes the man in the drivers seat is giving you.

it’s not his fault you’re nothing but perfection in his eyes, he can’t help but admire how nice you look sitting in the passenger seat of his sleek black challenger with the seat of his black fabric on the passenger seat covered with the fluffy thulian pink colored cushion he had bought just for you once you agreed to do this with him. he had been practically waiting, begging any and all gods above for this moment since he heard from your best friend and the annoying atsumu that you smoked.

he was so focused on your pretty face that he hadn’t noticed you took the lighter from him, taking another hit from the bong while he was distracted. as you went to take yet another hit, he snapped out of his daze and narrowed his eyes at you.

“aw come on, with all you’re smoking you owe me some weed. plus, it’s not your turn. hand it over, pretty.”

he held onto the bottom of the bong, smirking a bit as he gentle took it from you, searching the cup holders for the small lighter when he looked up and saw you holding it with your index and middle finger out to him. he snatched it, both of you rolling your eyes at the behavior of the other but really he was soooo entrances with you. he lit the bowl up, sucking up the smoke and inhaling, turning his head to blow it at you who blew straight air back at him and swatted his second hand smoke away.

“so you can blow all your smoke in my car but when I blow back at you, ‘s a problem?”

“I never said it was, estúpido. I just don’t want you blowing your dank ass smoke en mi cara.”

the side of your lips pulled into a small smirk as she leaned sideways toward you, smirking up at you as he tilted his head down.

“you know… I think ‘s sooooo nice hearin you speak spanish. can’t understand a think y’ say though.”

you stayed silent as you looked down at him with narrowed eyes, a giddy smile tugging at your lips upon hearing his words.

“mhm… go on…?”

“cocky now, are we sweetness? i’d say… you just sound sooo much more… magnetic. don’t get me wrong, hearing you speak normal is hypnotic in itself but something about the natural you voice when you speak spanish… it’s so much better.”

“maybe you should learn if you’re so desperate.”

“will that win you over? or was book of life too much for you to handle still.”

“He died for her!”

“n’ came back to life, pretty thing. I can’t do that. trust me, if I could I would for you, doll.”

“aw how sweet, hand me the bong.”

He chuckled a bit as he handed the bong back to you, the bowl nearly empty now. he lit it up, and you repeated the motions from earlier, except you blew it in his face this time.

“wowwww, how mature of you.”

“why thank you rin, i try.”

he takes it back from you yet again, setting down the now empty bong in a cup holder.

“sooo… what’s the plan?”

“ion know,, what you tryna do?”

he jokingly moves the drivers seat back, smirking a bit but behind it was a stupid, giddy smile. as he goes to put his hands behind his head, you hit him in the arm to which he breaks his front and laughs out loud, leaning away from you and holding his hit arm.

“ouch, that hurt you know. maybe you should be on volleyball instead of me, huh sweets?”

“i swear there’s something so wrong with you. estas absolutamente loco.”

“not my fault you’re so pretty.”

he shrugs, putting the seat back into its original position and his hands on the steering wheel as he stared at the small empty gas station a couple yards from the car. you two were parked at the very end of the small parking lot, music blasting and smoke spilling out of the slightly open windows of the small sleek black car.

maybe dates with the ever so “stoic” suna rintarou weren’t so bad.

FIRST FIC JITTERSSS AAAAA i gen hope you guys like it this is like my first fic in so long that i’m actually proud of and i hope this gets me more confident and helps me write more :DD

#suna rintarou fluff #suna rintarou x reader #suna fluff #suna x reader #suna haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu drabbles #suna rintarou drabbles #suna rintarou headcanons #haikyuu headcanons #suna drabbles #suna headcanons #latina reader #fem reader #stoner reader #stoner suna #stoner haikyuu

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mossynebula · 4 months

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TRC as songs from Unreal Unearth (Hozier)

EXTREMLY long post but I think its worth reading, Buckle up!!

Ronan: (De Selby part 1)

"At last when all of the world is asleep"

"to the bliss of not knowin' yourself"

"Bhfuilis soranna sorcha Ach tagais 'nós na hoíche, Trína chéile" (You’re all bright ease But you come on like night Entangled)

Kavinsky: (De Selby part 2)

"I wanna run against the world thats turning"

"I wanna run so far, I'd beat the morning"

"I dont need to know where we begin and end"

Prokopenko: (First Time)

"And the soul, if that's what you'd call it, Uneasy ally of the body"

" And some part of me must have died, the first time that you called me baby, and some part of me came alive the first time that you called me baby"

"but fighting off like all creation, the absence of itself"

Gansey: (Francesca)

"My life was a storm since I was born"

"I'd tell them put me back in it"

"I would still be suprised I could find you Darlin', in any life"

Skovron: ( I, Carrion (Icarian))

"If the wind turns, if I hit a squall, Allow the ground to find it's brutal way to me"

"If these heights should bring my fall, Let me be your own, Icarian carrion"

" I only pray, don't fall away from me"

Jiang: (Eat Your Young)

" Let me wrap my teeth around the world"

"put in front of the table, sellin' bombs and gun"

" You can't buy this, fineness, let me see the heat get to you"

Adam and Blue: (Damage Gets Done)

" Without shame, two outfits to my name"

" I heard once, it's the comforts that make us feel numb"

" You and I had nothing to show but the best of the world in the palm of our hands"

"If the car ran, the car was enough"

" That first car was like wings on an angel"

"But I know being reckless and young, is not how the damage gets done"

Swan: (Who We Are)

"Gettin' through still has a cost"

"To hold me like water, or christ, hold me like a knife"

"Chasing someone else's dream"

Noah: (All Things End)

"If there was anyone to ever get through this life, with their heart still intact, they didn't do it right"

" All that we intend, is scrawled in sand, it slips right through our hand"

"Never watched my future darken in a single tear"

(The entire choir section)

Declan: (To someone from a warmer climate)

"Uiscefhuaraithe" (water-cooled)

"all my dreamin', is only put to shame"

"There are some things that no-one teaches you, love That God in his awful wisdom first programs in"

Matthew: (Butchered Tongue)

"As a child, it was the place names Singin' at me as the first thing How the mouth must be employed in every corner of itself To say "Appalacicola" or "Hushpukena, " like "Gweebarra" A promise softly sung of somewhere else"

"But feel at home, hearin' a music that few still understand A butchered tongue still singin' here above the ground"

"And have your guarded heart be lifted like a child up by the hand In some town that just means "Home" to them With no translator left to sound"

Lynch Brothers: (Anything But)

"I'd fit all my joys and my pleasures in one perfect day I wish I was the sunlight, just sitting on the Mississippi I'd settle for a shopping trolley in the Liffey"

"I don't wanna be anything But I would do anything just to run away I don't wanna be anything like this at all"

"Look, I wanna be loud, so loud, I'm talking seismic I wanna be soft as a single stone in a rainstick I wanna be the thunder of a hundred thousand hooves moving quick If I was a stampede, you wouldn't get a kick I wanna be the shadow when my bright future's behind me I wanna be the last thing anybody ever sees"

Fox Way: (Abstract (Psychopomp))

"The feeling came late I'm still glad I met you"

"The memory hurts But does me no harm Your hand in my pocket To keep us both warm The poor thing in the road Its eye still glistening The cold wet of your nose The Earth from a distance"

"The speed that you moved The screech of the cars The creature still moving That slowed in your arms The fear in its eyes Gone out in an instant Your tear caught the light"

Gangsey and Dream pack: (First Light)

"Your eyes open, at first a thousand miles away But turning, shoot a silver bullet point-blank range And I can scarce believe what I'm believing in Could this be how every day begins?"

"The sky set to burst The gold and the rust The colour erupts You filling my cup The sun coming up

Like I lived my whole life Before the first light"

"One bright morning goes so easy Darkness always finds you either way It creeps into the corners as the moment fades A voice your body jumps to calling out your name But after this I'm never gonna be the same And I am never going back again"

#please read #the dream thieves #the raven cycle #trc #tdt #joseph kavinsky #kavinsky #dream pack #the dream pack #gangsey #ronan lynch #blue sargent #gansey #the raven king #song lyrics

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bellaxgiornata · 8 months

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I have a free moment so have another internal dialogue from the fictional men in my head. Since y'all seem to be enjoying them. The boys weren't thrilled with the bed situation when they got to their hotel...

Michael, entering in the bedroom: Ya have got to be kiddin' me.

Matt, folding up his cane in the living area: What?

Michael, calling back over his shoulder: There's only two beds. And there's three of us.

Frank, pausing as he puts a six pack of beer in the fridge: Wait...is this like that one bed trope thing Bella keeps talkin' about with me?

Matt: One bed trope? Isn't that where you're forced to share a bed with someone?

Michael, tossing his bag on a bed: Well I'm not sharin' so the both of ya can figure your shite out.

Frank: I drove your asses here, I ain't curlin' up on the goddamn couch.

Matt, annoyed: So you both expect me to be uncomfortable?

Frank with a shit-eating grin: Thought you liked punishing yourself, Red?

Matt glares at Frank.

Michael, sprawling out on the bed: I don't give a shite what ya do. Just stop arguin'. I'm tired of hearin' it. [Muttering]: And ya both are goin' to be doin' it more with that other fic she's got on her mind.

Frank and Matt: What other fic?

Michael: The one where both of ya dumbarses are fightin' over the same girl. Think ya idiots end up sharing her or some shite.

Matt, throwing his hands on his hips: Absolutely not. I would not do that.

Frank, looking confused: We share her?

Michael, muttering: Givin' these dumbarses more smut and I'm still waitin' for mine, Bella. I hear the one shot ideas 'bout me rollin' 'round in your head. Write them, would ya? Fuck sake, woman.

Frank, pulling a binder out of his suitcase: What's this?

Michael, glancing over: Those are all Bella's works in progress.

Frank, getting comfortable on the other bed: Guess I found what I'm reading next.

Matt, hands still on his hips as he glares at Frank: So you're just taking the other bed? Just like that?

Michael, smirking: Ya could always share it. Like you're goin' to do with that gym--

Matt, deadpan as he cuts off Michael: Not funny.

#bella hears fictional characters #not enough beds #matt murdock #frank castle #michael kinsella #play nice and share boys

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rafedaddy01 · 7 months

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I recommend listening to the song so you can get the vibes of this 🤍 (I would link it here but I’m a broke bitch who can’t afford Spotify)

You’re Special- NF

Notes: I am absolutely obsessed with this song and I think it would be a perfect description of rafe x reader

Yeah, you, baby, you

You're something special

Baby, I know

I know what you're thinkin'

Maybe, maybe I'm wasting your time

But I promise, but I promise

I know that I go back and forth

But I won't let you, I won't let you, I won't let you down

Yeah

“You’re special, baby” Rafe whispered in your ear as you straddled his lap, your hands on his bare chest and his gripping your ass through the panties you had on.

He left wet kisses down your neck until you were a hot mess, “Rafe.. please”

He smirked against your skin, “what do you want, baby?” He spoke, his hot breath sending shivers down your back even though the room was quite toasty.

“I need you”

I meant it when I told you I would change

Meant it when I told you I would stay

Sick of talkin' on the phone, babe

Time to pack your car and come to my state

Come to my place, look at my face, oh, yeah

You know I ain't playin'

I'll send you some money, yeah, hop in the car

And get on the road, here we go

Baby, I can't lie

I'm a little bit, I'm a little bit scared right now, girl, girl, yeah

With a swift motion Rafes shirt that you were wearing was off of your body and his sweats pulled down, he never bothered wearing boxers, especially when you were around.

You said you want more

And I can't blame you for

Askin' me what's somethin' you deserve

You're special

Yo-yo-you're special

Oh yeah, you're special

Yo-yo-you're special

Yeah, I knew it, you was my type

We ain't gotta skip to the highlight

You're the highlight, girl, of my life (woo)

Both of us have got a past, but it's alright

All night car rides

Drivin' through the city, yeah, the view's fantastic

It's automatic, could see you smile, gotta have it

She got me thinkin' maybe I'ma have to put a ring on it, girl

I ain't never been a romantic, but I can romance ya'

Get your shoes on, baby, I am not asking

I'm 'bout to take you out to dinner, put the black dress on

Got the room gaspin', how did this happen?

I don't even know

She's the type to sing my words at the show

She's the type to pick me up when I'm low

And remind me she got my back, no matter what

Yeah, I think she hearin' me now

Say what I think, so I'm thinkin' out loud

I need a woman I know I can trust, and I got one

I guess you can say that she down

Callin' my phone, and she told me she proud

She said my name and I like how that sounds, oh, yeah

(I like that)

I like how this sounds

(Baby, I, yeah)

Baby, don't make me lose myself

I need somebody I know I can trust (yeah)

I mean, I'm being honest

I ain't ever met a girl like you (no)

Baby, you can call me

You can call me anytime

You can call me any day, anytime

You know I'ma answer

I won't let you, I won't let you down, yeah

You said you want more

And I can't blame you for

Askin' me for somethin' you deserve (You deserve it)

You're special, yeah

Yo-yo-you're special

I said, girl, I said, you're special

I said, you're special

“I love when you beg” Rafes voice was husky and it was getting you wetter by the second. “Please Rafe, I need you now, baby” you whined as he ran his fingers over your skin that you could feel getting hotter under his touch. He ran his fingers over your lower lips over the cloth.

You whines as your head rested on his shoulder and small breaths and moans escaped when he moved the material to the side and ran one finger up the slick folds. “You deserve to be loved, y/n, and I’m gonna show you just how much I love you” he said as he pushed two fingers in. You bit your lip to the point of bleeding when he pushed out and back in, all the pressure building too fast. “I-I need you now rafey”

He pulled out and tore your panties off before pushing you down on his cock. Both of you groaning at the feeling. “Fuck” he groaned as his forehead rested on your forehead. “Your so special” he kept repeating into your ear in between nibbles on your neck that had you melting into his arms.

@f4ll-for-you @v21sstuff @rafeysworldim19 @baby19sthings @eventualoptimism @drewstarkeysbae @sevenwivesofrafecameron @rxfecameronsslut @findapenny @r1vrsefx

#outer banks #rafe cameron #drew starkey #dark rafe cameron #outerbanks #smut #drewstarkey #drewstarkey smut #rafecameron #fanfic #rafe fluff

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theogonies · 11 months

Text

Another Place and Time ft. genshin characters as pulp fiction tropes

characters: dehya (western), kaveh (regency romance), rosaria (film noir)

word count: 1.7k

content warnings: this one's primarily fluff but rosaria's is a bit darker (reader is suspected of an unwanted suitor's murder)

sorry if the formatting on these is a bit wonky; i'm posting from mobile rn. they were a lotta fun to write and i'm planning on doing more, so lmk if you've got specific characters you'd like to see!

The Western starring Dehya

It’s no secret when your love rolls into town.

She moves like a summer storm: a rolling peal of thunder, followed by that brief and inevitable flash of light. And for a moment, the parched desert of your loneliness forgets itself, awash in the torrent of her passion.

She never announces her arrival to you directly, but then again, she doesn’t need to. Not when you know the jangle of her spurs on the wood floorboards of your tavern as well as the jangle of cowbells and the raspy whistle of the vultures that circle the prairies. Not when you know that your doorstep will always be her first and last stop in town.

Always one to make an entrance, she sweeps through those double doors with more drama than the boldest outlaw, allowing your patrons a moment of stillness to take in her windswept mane, the worn leather of her boots and dust-packed folds of her clothes a testament to her vagabond’s spirit.

Only you don’t look up, pretending to focus on wiping down the bar as she makes her way to her favorite table: a seat in the back corner, facing the bar.

She knows your indifferent games; indulges them, even, each of you testing the other’s limits until you can’t bear to be ignored any longer.

And it seems that she’s struck gold today: some burly lug of a man has claimed her seat. You could’ve warned him, of course, but then it’s not every day she comes to town–and this alternative is more amusing for the both of you.

You listen without looking up as her spurs clink across the floor, stopping just short of the table.

“Hey there, partner,” she drawls, her tone molasses-sweet and laced with venom. “Seems like nobody’s warned ya, this ain’t your seat.”

He blinks up, all bleary-like from the beer he’s been guzzling since nine in the morning.

“Seems t’me like yer tryna pick a fight yer bound’ta lose, girlie.”

“Is that so?”

Her back is turned to you, but you can hear the smile in her voice as she looses the pistol at her hip with a practiced flick of the wrist. And damn it, she’s always known how easy you are for her quick draw.

“Dehya,” you call warmingly across the bar. “I’d appreciate if you quit harassin’ my paying customers.”

“My, darlin’, if I’d seen ya sooner, I wouldn’t’a bothered.”

She ambles over to the bar with a slow and easy grin, like she just noticed you there. The nerve on this girl is enough to make you throw your hands up and scream sometimes, but instead you wipe down a glass, watching her from the corner of your eyes.

“The usual?”

“Bourbon neat,” she agrees, folding her arms on the counter as she grins at you. And it seems that the two of you are even now, because she’s never been able to hide that starstruck glint she gets in her eyes when you pour. “Boy, have I got the story for you today. You heard ‘bout the stampede up at Samiel’s Lookout?”

“Naw,” you grin, sliding the amber-clouded glass across the bar in her direction. “Ain’t interested in hearin’ about it from no one else but you.”

The Regency Romance starring Kaveh

You’ve heard the way your friends titter when he passes by.

Kaveh the bleeding heart, Kaveh the debtor, Kaveh with holes in his pockets.

And, to be true, he’s never borne himself with the same pride as the other men of your class. His suits are unassuming, his cravats moth-bitten, and the holes in his stockings are plain for anyone to see.

He’s never been stern enough to manage a household or to be considered a marriageable bachelor; and yet, despite all your better instincts, you find your eyes falling on him from time to time. When he feeds the stray dogs on the street, or empties his pockets for every beggar he meets, you can’t help but think that maybe a charitable and softhearted debtor is preferable to the self-indulgent, intemperate sods your parents would see you tame.

Perhaps it’s just the wine, settling in a hazy fog over your better senses, but now, too, you let your eyes linger on him across the crowded dance hall. And you must admit that, from a distance, his imperfections don’t stand out so clearly as the soft waves of his blond hair, or the out-of-season yet artfully stylish cut of his jacket.

It doesn’t take him long to notice your gaze, and his reaction is as unsubtle as you might expect from a man so guileless as he. Like sunlight breaking through the clouds on a winter’s day, a smile, shy and unassuming yet as genuine as you’ve ever seen, settles on his face.

Before you’ve had time to consider the wisdom of your choices, the Master of Ceremonies has approached with your hapless bachelor in tow.

“Kaveh, Earl of Kshahrewar, would like to request a dance with the lady.”

You take his outstretched hand, your free hand fluttering to rest on the strands of pearls at your neck as he leads you out to the dance floor into a brisk foxtrot. For a while, you dance in silence, each allowing the footwork and the music to ease your discomfort until the orchestra fades into a waltz.

“My lady seems nervous,” he says, his voice so halting as to be hardly audible over even this soft melody. “If you’d like, I can–”

“It’s quite alright,” you say hurriedly. “I suppose I’m just prone to thinking too much.”

His hand, resting lightly in the small of your back, relaxes slightly as he smiles at you in relief.

“One thing we have in common, then.”

You smile back, although you aren’t really listening to his words. You’re more interested in the way the lamplight catches his eyes, and you have to wonder how you’ve never noticed their brilliance.

“You dance better than I’d expected,” you admit.

The laugh he offers in return is light and easy, and fills you with a longing kind of unease as you realize how easily you could fall for this charming, pitiable man.

“It’s not a difficult task when one has such an inspiring partner as you.”

The Film Noir starring Rosaria

Somewhere outside the clouded windowpanes, you think, there must be happy people.

Children running through sunlit fields. Lovers embracing, knowing that a whole lifetime together lies ahead of them. A lion lying to rest with a lamb.

But the rain falls heavy in this city, and such happy stories were never meant for people like you, people so mired in the mud and grime of their pasts that no matter what they do, they’ll never get clean.

You get the sense that the woman sitting in front of you is the same, in that way.

Everything about your newly-retained Private Investigator from the hollows under her eyes to the cigarette that halfheartedly dangles from her lips screams complete and utter exhaustion. The kind of tiredness that can’t be undone by a good night’s sleep.

The scratch of her pen against paper doesn’t cease after a few quiet moments, so you fold your manicured hands on your knees and wait. She doesn’t seem like the sort to appreciate having her work interrupted, and you need so badly to have someone on your side that you would suffer much worse indignities than this.

Finally, she sets her pen down to look at you, cradling her chin in one gloved hand.

“So tell me, doll, what brings a pretty little thing like you to a place like this?”

You hesitate, sensing the warning in her tone. All that flirtation so clearly nothing more than a mask for your shared understanding that places like this leave no space for purity.

“I need your help proving my innocence.”

She watches you, a calculated look in her eyes as she takes in the prideful tilt of your chin and the unyielding fire in your eyes. After a long, uncomfortable moment, she leans back in her seat and takes a long drag from the cigarette.

“Keep going.”

So you tell her your story. How you realized one of your regulars at the diner you work in had become too attached, how you tried again and again to rebut his very public advances. How he met his untimely demise. How the neighbors and the cops all thought it was you, even when they couldn’t find any proof.

She takes it all in stride, although by the time you’ve reached your halfway point, you can already see her eyes clouding over–no doubt running through all the possibilities in her mind.

Finally, a long while after you’ve run out of words to express the turmoil in your heart, she speaks.

“And how am I supposed to believe I’m not wasting my time on this case?”

You look down at your folded hands, searching for the answer. She’s perceptive; you can tell as much just judging by the way she looks at you. Perceptive enough to see through any lies you might tell, no doubt.

Your only hope is that she might understand the truth.

“I don’t believe it’s a sin to do what you must to survive,” you say quietly. “All I want is to live a normal life.”

An evasive answer, but not a dishonest one.

She stands, the mannish contours of her suit hanging loose on her elegant frame, and circles behind you, and for a moment, you fear that all is lost. But, to your surprise, the tone of her answer is, while not exactly gentle, a sympathetic one.

“You should know that I don’t work charity cases.”

You close your eyes and breathe a soft sigh of relief before lifting your hand for her to inspect your middle finger: a ruby, so large it borders on obscene, framed in an ornate ring of gold.

“My mother’s,” you explain. “An antique.”

She leans over your shoulder to inspect the heirloom, so close that one of her soft, burgundy curls brushes against your cheek. You stay like that, motionless, for one brief, heart-stopping moment before Rosaria pulls away.

“Put your worries to bed, dollface. You’re safe in my hands.”

#ronan writes #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin fics #genshin x you #dehya fluff #dehya x reader #kaveh x reader #kaveh fluff #rosaria x reader

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