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jeankluv · 3 days

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Birdie | Satoru Gojo - Chapter 06

Words: 4,5k

Summary: You didn’t like him, at all. But due to your bad luck you would have to be forced to work with him and different circumstances end up leading you to the fact that perhaps the word dislike is not the one you use to describe him.

ac: _3aem

Tags: modern au, college au, fem!reader, academic rivals, he fell first, fluff, old money Gojo Satoru, abusive parents, slight slow burn, Satoru is a softy, secondary couple (Geto Suguru x oc), a bit of angst, no use of y/n, eventual smut, Gojo plays basketball

Authors note: I need y’all to chose between yes or no. Depending on which one wins, something will happen in one of the future chapters 🤭 also thank you for the support ❤️

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Gojo parked the car near the restaurant you had mentioned. It was a street ramen restaurant, a place you had visited countless times before. The ramen bowls were generous, and the prices were quite affordable, much to the relief of your wallet.

Luckily, you found a place to sit and perused the menu.

“I already know what I'm going to order.” You smiled, setting your menu aside.

“Oh, really?” He glanced up.

You nodded. “The house specialty with extra spice.” Just thinking about it made your mouth water.

“You like it spicy?” He looked at you with a hint of horror.

“Of course I do, Gojo. Don't tell me you don't?” Gojo nodded in response to your question. “Shit, most of the dishes here have some spice to them.”

“It's okay, it's just for one day.” He shook his head.

As the conversation flowed lively and you discovered new things about Gojo, the weight that had been on your shoulders since you stepped foot in the lake slowly fade away.

“Gojo…” You whispered after thanking the waiter who brought you dinner. “About what happened at the lake.”

“You don't have to tell me.” He gently interrupted. “If you want to tell me, then I'll listen and support you. But... if it's too much for you, then you don't have to tell me anything, birdie.” He smiled, and you could feel a warmth spreading in your chest.

“Thank you.” You whispered.

At times, you completely forgot that you didn't like Gojo, and another feeling you wanted to suppress emerged.

You shook your head and picked up the chopsticks to start eating. As usual, it was delicious and spicy as you liked it. You glanced through your lashes at Gojo and saw him struggling with the spiciness of his ramen, even though it was one of the mildest they had.

“Are you sure you're okay?” You stifled a laugh as you watched him fan himself with his hand.

“Yes, of course.” He coughed a bit. “It's just that... I'm not used to it.” He tried to smile.

“We can order milk, so the spiciness goes away better.” Gojo nodded deliberately, and you couldn't help but laugh.

You signaled for the waiter to bring a glass of milk. Watching him take a few sips and visibly relax, you couldn't help but chuckle at the sight.

“Feeling better now?” You asked, a playful glint in your eyes.

Gojo nodded, a grateful smile spreading across his face. “Much better, thank you.”

The warmth of his smile melted away any lingering tension between you, and for a moment, you simply enjoyed the comfort of Gojo’s company.

As both of you continued eating, Gojo struggled to conceal his discomfort. Despite your initial concerns that dinner might be awkward because of what happened at the lake, it wasn't. You felt at ease with Gojo, and his occasional antics made you forget everything.

As you continued to share anecdotes and laughter, your ramen bowls emptied. And the night grew darker outside.

You watched as Gojo got up from his seat to pay. As you observed his back, you couldn't help but feel grateful for having accepted to come to this place with him. Gojo turned on his heels and flashed you a smile, a smile that made your cheeks turn crimson.

You didn't want to admit it, but perhaps Satoru Gojo was growing on you more than he should.

When Gojo returned to the table, you couldn't help the flutter of warmth his smile had ignited within you. Despite your best efforts to ignore him, you found yourself drawn to him in a way that both excited and unsettled you.

“Ready to go?” He asked, breaking the silence between both of you.

You nodded, getting up from your seat and following him out of the restaurant. The cool night air hit your face as you stepped outside, the soft breeze rustling the fabric of your clothes.

As you walked side by side, the comfortable silence between you said it all. It was a silence filled with unexpressed thoughts and emotions, a silent acknowledgment of the growing connection between you.

With every step, you couldn't help but look at Gojo, the presence of him at your side calming and strangely comforting. And when you got to the car, you couldn't deny the pang of disappointment that washed over you at the thought of saying goodbye.

“Gojo…” You muttered, getting a slight gaze from him. “About the other day…” How could you continue? “I know we are not close but I mean.” Shit. You were awful at these things. “You can talk to me I guess? We are classmates and all that.”

“You seemed awkward.”

“Shit. Is just that I’m awful with these things, okay? That’s why I didn’t know how to react the other day, when you, you…”

“It’s okay birdie. I get it.” You saw him smile. “Thank you for caring and I’m okay, so don’t worry.”

You nodded, still not sure if you should trust that okay he gave you, because it sounded like a lie and that it was hiding more behind.

At this point you couldn't deny that something was growing inside you. Satoru Gojo was making it difficult not to. His easy charm, genuine kindness, and unexpected moments of vulnerability had touched something deep within you, igniting a spark of longing you couldn't ignore.

Lost in your thoughts, you were jolted back to reality as the car came to a stop outside your house. Turning to face Gojo, you were met with his warm gaze, a silent understanding passing between you.

“Thanks for tonight, birdie.” He said softly, his voice tinged with sincerity. “For coming to the match and for then, coming with me to…”

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you returned his sentiment. “No, thank you. I had a really wonderful time having dinner with you. And don’t worry about what happened back in the lake, it was not your fault.”

As you stepped out of the car and onto the sidewalk, a sense of anticipation filled you. Despite the late hour and the weariness that threatened to weigh you down, you couldn't shake the excitement that bubbled within you.

Gojo stepped out of his car and walked you to the door, apparently wanting to make sure you arrived safely.

“I'll see you in class.” He whispered.

“Yeah.” You whispered back. “Goodbye, Satoru.” You smiled.

“Huh?” He looked at you in surprise. “Wait, did you just...?”

“Goodbye!” You hummed and closed the door before he could say anything else.

As you leaned against the front door, the familiar sound of Gojo's car engine ignited a flurry of emotions inside you. You couldn't help but feel a pang of longing mixed with a hint of anticipation. However, as the sound faded into the distance, a bittersweet smile appeared at the corners of your lips before you forcibly pushed those feelings away, reminding yourself of the need to remain grounded in the present moment.

As you walked through the quiet house, you found solace in the familiarity of your own room. Kyoko's absence, along with the echo of silence, allowed your thoughts to wander freely. Despite the calm outside, turmoil brewed beneath the surface as repressed memories of that night threatened to resurface.

Sinking into bed, you were once again faced with the weight of unresolved emotions. Your mind returned to a pivotal moment etched into your past. With trembling fingers, you reached for the photograph.

“Mom…”

With a whispered word, you invoked the memory of a figure frozen forever in time.

In the quiet solitude of your room, you wrestled with the complexities of your past, piecing together fragments of memories your mind had decided to forget.

As tears threatened to spill, you recalled the few vivid moments still etched in your memory alongside your mother. But many had long since faded away, her laughter, her voice, her scent, now even her expressions were difficult to conjure.

Resting your head on your knees, you closed your eyes, letting yourself drift back to the sweet melody she used to sing before bedtime. Each note resonated with a sense of comfort and longing, a bittersweet reminder of a love that transcended time and space.

Enveloped by the silence of the room, with only the melody resonating from your vocal cords, you began to feel the warm embrace of sleep. Despite your desire to stay awake for Kyoko, your body was simply too exhausted. Each note of the lullaby seemed to lull you deeper into a state of peaceful surrender, until finally, with a reluctant sigh, you succumbed to the soothing embrace of slumber.

As the sun streamed through your window, you blinked opening your eyes, realizing you had slept through the night without interruption. Your cheeks felt wet, and it wasn't surprising; you had dreamt of your mother, something that hadn't happened since you were a child. You wiped your face with the palm of your hand and stretched as you rose from the bed.

With Kyoko's parents away for the weekend, it would just be the two of you. You reached for your phone in your bag to check for any messages.

Kyoko☀️

I'm home now. I saw you were asleep, so I didn't disturb you. Come to my room as soon as you wake up tomorrow!!

That was a good sign, right?

And then there was another message.

Pain in the ass

The exam is approaching. How about we meet on Sunday to study? By the way, good night birdie.

Perhaps it was time to change the nickname, huh? You mentally chastised yourself for realizing you were smiling. You left your phone aside and headed to Kyoko's room with excitement. You flopped onto her bed, calling out her name eagerly.

“Come on!” You urged, nudging her gently. “You have to tell me what happened yesterday.” You smiled with anticipation.

Kyoko opened her eyes slightly and murmured your name. “What time is it?” She asked, rubbing her eyes sleepily.

“Almost noon.” You replied.

“Almost noon?” Kyoko sat up, surprised. “I've slept the whole morning away.” She sighed with resignation.

“After getting home at three in the morning, it's understandable.” You teased.

“Don't make fun of me or I won't tell you.” She warned with a smile.

“Come on…” You pleaded with a pout.

Kyoko returned your smile and sat up in bed. “We're officially dating.” She announced with joy. You let out a small yay and embraced your best friend.

“Was it romantic?” You asked curiously.

“Yes. He took me out to dinner first, and then we went to the teamLab, where he asked me.” She sighed nostalgically.

“At teamLab?” You asked, amazed. “You've been wanting to go there for ages, but the tickets were always sold out.” You recalled with surprise.

Kyoko shrugged. “I know, and I don't know how he did it, but we got in, and in one of the rooms, the crystal room, he asked me if I wanted to officially start dating.”

“That's amazing.” You exclaimed, feeling genuinely happy for Kyoko. “It sounds like he put a lot of thought into it.”

Kyoko nodded, a soft smile playing on her lips. “He really did. It was like a dream.”

“I'm so happy for you.” You said, giving her another hug. “You deserve all the happiness in the world.”

Kyoko returned the hug warmly, her eyes shining with gratitude. “Thank you for always being there for me.” She said softly.

“Of course.” You replied, feeling a surge of warmth in your chest. “That's what friends are for, right?”

As you both sat there, basking in the glow of Kyoko's newfound happiness, you couldn't help but feel grateful for moments like these—moments of joy, laughter, etc..

“By the way…” Kyoko looked at you with a smirk on her face. “How was your night?”

“My… my night?” You responded confused.

“Don’t play silly. You went with Satoru, tell me.” She pouted.

“We just went and had dinner.” You said. “Nothing else.”

“Really?” She said with a disappointed tone.

“Yeah.” You shrugged. “Why do you seem upset?”

Kyoko shook her head. “It's nothing, don't worry about it.”

You nodded reluctantly at her response, sensing that she was hiding something. “We'll see each other again tomorrow.” You said. “We're going to study, don't get confused.”

“Pfft.” She laughed. “Of course not.”

“The exam is next week, and I have to beat Sa-Gojo.” You corrected yourself before saying his name.

“Technically, you already had a date.” Kyoko pointed out.

“Last night wasn't a date, we were just two colleagues going out to dinner.”

“Whatever you say.” She smiled. “Anyways, you have to work today right?”

You bite your lip. “Ugh, yeah.”

“Do you want to meet up after your shift? We can meet Shoko and I can introduce you to her.” She smiled.

“That sounds good.” You replied.

“Perfect.” She got up from her bed and stretched. “Should we have breakfast?” You nodded in agreement.

Kyoko and you enjoyed a breakfast filled with laughter and conversation, but before you knew it, it was time for you to head to work. After bidding Kyoko farewell, you made your way to the store.

It was mid-afternoon when you suddenly remembered that you hadn't responded to Gojo's message. Retrieving your phone, you quickly finding the chat with Gojo.

You to Pain in the ass

Okay, we will meet again tomorrow.

At your place?

Within minutes, your phone lit up again, displaying a new message from Gojo.

Pain in the ass

Yep

I'll come pick you up, is 10 AM okay for you?

You read Gojo's message and felt a mixture of excitement and apprehension. Despite the playful nickname you had given him, there was an undeniable anticipation building within you for your upcoming meeting.

You to Pain in the ass

Sounds good, see you then 😌

With the message sent, you set your phone aside and resumed your tasks at the store. The remainder of the afternoon passed in a blur of customer interactions and inventory management, but Gojo's invitation lingered in the back of your mind, adding an extra spring to your step.

As evening approached and your shift came to an end, you found yourself eagerly looking forward to the following day.

You saw Kyoko waiting for you outside, engaged in lively conversation with another girl, whom you assumed was Shoko, Gojo and Suguru's friend. With excitement bubbling within you, you closed the store and made your way over to them.

As you approached, you couldn't help but smile at the sight of Kyoko and Shoko chatting animatedly. Their laughter filled the air, adding to the sense of camaraderie that surrounded them. Kyoko noticed you approaching and waved enthusiastically, gesturing for you to join them.

“Hey there!” Kyoko greeted you with a bright smile. “This is Shoko, the one I was telling you about.”

You exchanged introductions with Shoko, feeling a sense of warmth in her presence.

“Hi!” She smiled wildly. “I have heard a lot about you.”

You felt a twinge of embarrassment coursing through you. “Oh... really?” You attempted to laugh, trying to diffuse the awkward moment.

“Yeah, that idiot…” Shoko began to say before being cut off by Kyoko.

“Shall we?” Kyoko interrupted Shoko before she could continue speaking, her tone indicating a desire to move past that topic.

Confused, you looked at Shoko and then at Kyoko, wondering what had caused this sudden interruption.

“Let's go.” Kyoko said, taking your arm reassuringly. “I know you're starving.”

As you walked together, you couldn't shake off the feeling of curiosity about the conversation that was abruptly halted.

On the way to the restaurant, you learned that Shoko was studying medicine and was of the same age as you. In fact, she had been friends with Gojo and Suguru since they were about 14 or 15 years old.

“They tend to be quite intense.” Shoko joked. “And pretty dumb when they're together, but they're good people.” She added with a smile.

You nodded, returning the smile. The camaraderie between you was growing with each exchange.

“But let's stop talking about those two, tonight is girls' night.” Shoko suggested, changing the subject.

“Exactly.” Kyoko agreed with a smile.

Finally, you arrived at the restaurant and took a seat at a table.

Through the night you found out, Shoko liked to drink just as much as Kyoko. So now you were sitting in front of two drunk girls that wouldn’t stop laughing at every minimum thing. Don’t get it wrong, you also drunk and we’re having fun, just not as much as your best friend and your new friend.

“For real?” Kyoko laughed heavily, holding her belly. “I can’t believe it.”

“I swear.” Shoko said with a small hiccup. “Let’s ask for another round!”

You smiled and stopped her. “Shoko… you both are too drunk. For tonight it’s enough.”

“Oh crap… you just sounded like Satoru.” She looked first at you and then at Kyoko. “They would be cute…” She whispered but it was enough for you to hear. Shoko called out your name. “Do you like Satoru?”

You opened your eyes slightly, surprised by her question. “What…?” Only that question came out of your mouth but your mind was functioning like crazy, because as crazy as sound that question also came to your head in the last few days. “Shoko what are you talking about?” You tried to laugh. “No, no, I don’t…”

Kyoko laughed saying your name. “You’re completely red.”

“That’s true!” Shoko screamed pointing at you. “You do like him!”

“I don’t!” Your voice sounded nervous. “I just… I consider him a friend now!”

“But would you fuck him?” Shoko questioned you.

And your face turned completely red. “Shoko! What?!”

“C’mon!” Kyoko scream. “You would right?”

“You are both drunk!” You stood up from your place. “Let’s head home.”

“She definitely would.” Shoko laughed. “I heard he is quite…”

“Okay enough. Let’s go.” You cut her off before hearing what she was about to say.

“Ugh you are no fun.” Shoko and Kyoko cried out.

With great effort, you managed to get Shoko and Kyoko out of the bar where you had been spending the night. Hailing a taxi, you arranged for transportation back home. Shoko would be staying with you at your place; you didn't want to leave her to her own devices in that state, and besides, you didn't even know where she lived. True, you could have called Gojo and asked him, but after that conversation, the last thing you wanted was to have anything to do with Satoru Gojo. You decided to postpone facing the jumble of emotions inside you until the next day.

As the taxi pulled up to your destination, you helped Shoko and Kyoko out of the car and guided them inside your home. Once inside, you settled Shoko on the couch with a blanket and made sure she was comfortable to rest. Despite the late hour, your mind was buzzing with thoughts of the evening's events and the unresolved feelings surrounding Gojo.

After ensuring your friends were settled in for the night, you retreated to your own room, the weight of the night's emotions pressing down on you. Tomorrow would bring its own challenges, but for now, you needed to rest and gather your strength for the emotional turmoil that lay ahead.

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

You adjusted the rebellious strand of hair that kept falling out of place and took a deep breath. Why were you so nervous? You were just meeting up with Gojo to study, but still, your heart couldn't help but race at the thought.

Your phone buzzed in your bag, signaling that it was likely Gojo letting you know he was already outside waiting for you.

You bid farewell to Kyoko and her parents and stepped out of the house. Your heart skipped a beat as you saw Gojo leaning against his car, engrossed in his phone. When he heard the door close, he looked up, and your eyes met.

“Hey.” Gojo smiled.

You nodded. “Hi…”

Damn it, what was wrong with you?

“Birdie, you okay?” Gojo leaned in slightly to get a better look at your face.

“Huh?” You refocused your gaze on him. “Oh... yeah, yeah.” You smiled faintly. “Ready to go?” You motioned towards the car.

Gojo nodded and reopened the car door, and you climbed into the vehicle that was already starting to feel familiar. Gojo settled in beside you, and as he started the car, it dawned on you that you were headed to Gojo's apartment.

The conversation from last night echoed in your mind. You were beginning to develop feelings for Satoru Gojo. And that terrified you. You were afraid of what might happen if you let those feelings continue to grow.

“You seem quite distracted.” Gojo's gentle voice broke through your thoughts.

“It's nothing.” You tried to brush it off. “Just thinking about something.”

Gojo simply nodded and focused his gaze on the road ahead. The landscape began to change, arriving at a neighborhood of the city that you did not know. It was a rich neighborhood, the cars that were parked and the whole atmosphere screamed money. It didn't surprise you, where else could the great Satoru Gojo live after all.

Gojo parked his car in a garage and you both silently took the elevator. You watched as Gojo played with the car keys in his hand, while he looked ahead. Your heart continued to beat strongly.

As you entered Gojo's apartment, a feeling of surprise washed over you. It was not what you expected, it was a warm, cozy place. You took off your shoes at the entrance and followed Gojo into the kitchen.

“Do you want something to drink?”

“Water is fine.” You said. Gojo turned around and grabbed a glass to put some water on it. “Thank you…” You whispered when Gojo gave you the glass.

You tried avoiding his gaze but you knew he knew something was off with you. “Birdie…”

“Should we start with the study time?” You cut him. “Should we study in the living room?” You looked around. “Or there is somewhere else we could study.”

“In the living room it’s okay.” He said, still looking at you.

“Great! Let’s go!” You grabbed your bag and walked towards the living room.

Sitting on the big couch of Gojo’s department, you took out the notebook and waited patiently for Gojo to come and start studying.

You felt Gojo enter the room and sit next to you, too close for your liking. Too much. You could feel your hands starting to sweat and your heart racing again.

Do you like Gojo?

Do you have feelings for him?

The words repeated themselves in your head over and over again.

“Shit…” You murmured.

“Is everything alright birdie?” His soft voice spoke.

“Huh?” You turned your head only to be met with his blue eyes, way too close for your liking, for yourself.

Surprised, you moved backwards, causing you to fall off the couch. Gojo quickly stood up from her position and walked over to you to help you. “Birdie…” He said with concern. "Are you alright?" Gojo grabbed your hands and helped you sit on the couch.

You shook your head. “Yeah…” No. “I went out last night and I’m tired.” I can’t shake this feelings away. “It’s nothing.” It’s everything. “It’s okay…” It’s not.

“You should had told me…” He said with a sad look. “We could have chosen another day…” He whispered. “Nothing would have happened.” He smiled at you.

Satoru Gojo stop or I will completely fall and I don’t want to.

You shook your head. “Don’t worry.” You faintly smiled.

He hesitated but nodded at your words. You both sat next to each other and started studying. Gojo carefully explained the things that were still unclear to you. Each time he approached, your heart rate quickened.

Your feelings were completely tangled up. Satoru Gojo couldn't possibly be someone you liked, but no matter how many times your mind repeated that, your heart felt differently. It reacted tumultuously every time he was near.

As Gojo continued to clarify things for you, you found it increasingly difficult to focus on the conversation. His proximity seemed to amplify the turmoil within you, leaving you torn between what your head was telling you and what your heart was feeling.

Satoru Gojo POV

Gojo glanced at you from the corner of his eye, observing how completely engrossed you were in trying to solve the problem at hand. You delicately chewed on the end of your pen, your brow furrowing slightly in concentration.

She's beautiful.

Gojo shook his head and turned his gaze away from you.

Ever since he realized that you shared classes and even a major, he had tried on numerous occasions to get closer to you, but without any success.

When he invited you to the lake, he had attempted to confess, not in a romantic way. You see, Gojo did have strong feelings for you, a crush according to him. But he considered it too early to express them; he didn't want to risk pushing you away. What he had wanted to confess was his immense gratitude for what you did when you were six years old. However, just as he was about to do so, you had that panic attack.

He felt immensely guilty. Something had happened to you at that lake, and he had unwittingly triggered those memories. Seeing you so vulnerable and broken had shattered his heart. Holding you close had felt natural, and all he had wanted was for that pain you were experiencing to go away as soon as possible.

As Gojo watched you, he felt remorse for unintentionally causing your distress. He had tried to express his gratitude, but he had only made things worse, leaving you emotionally affected.

Despite his good intentions, Gojo felt guilty for contributing to your discomfort. He hadn't wanted to hurt you, he just wanted to comfort you. The image of seeing you so affected haunted him.

He silently decided to be there for you, support you with everything you needed and show you with actions how much you meant to him. Maybe he couldn't express his feelings at the time, but he was determined to show you his affection in other ways.

“Hey, birdie.” Gojo said softly, breaking the silence between them.

You looked up from your task, meeting his gaze with a curious expression. “Yeah, Gojo?”

“I just wanted to say... I'm sorry.” He began, his voice tinged with sincerity. “I know you already told me it was okay but I didn't mean to upset you back at the lake.”

You paused, studying his earnest expression for a moment before offering a small nod. “It's okay, Gojo. I know you didn't mean any wrong. And... thank you, for trying to help.”

Gojo smiled gratefully at your understanding, relieved to have cleared the air between them. “Of course, birdie. I just want you to know that I'm here for you, no matter what.”

Gojo saw you blinking slowly at his words and a small smile appearing on your lips. “Thanks, Gojo. That means a lot to me.”

Note: comment if you want to be tagged

Tagged people: @lavender-hvze, @crybabytoru, @sanriosatoru, @norvacaine, @sadmonke, @faetoraa,@hexipessimistic, @gojoful , @kitzusune , @sh0jun

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aeomianamoure · 3 days

Note

Emo kai who’s secretly a himbo >:3

— emo kai who’s secretly a himbo!

warnings <3: !smut, inexperienced kai, inexperienced fem reader, cursing, kai and readers are a big bunch of losers (sorry!), !sweet reader, reader and kai are crybabies in this, mentions of spit?? i think i should put a tw for that!, make out session!, ddlg themes kinda? hmm, virginity loss, !safe sex ok

a/n: im ngl i had no clue what a himbo was before this request tbh so i’m sorry if this is awful

you felt tears in your vision as you felt a tingling sensation on your pussy, unaware of why this was happening so much lately when you were around your boyfriend of eight months

you didn’t get it was that your poor body trying to reject your boyfriend each time he held you? each hug and kiss you two shared? was that doing more harm than good to you? you weren’t sure because you never felt this way before

you felt embarrassed and ashamed of yourself so you didn’t mention anything about it to kai; that was until you finally had enough and told him what’s been happening mid make out session

kissing in cars by pierce the veil lowly echos throughout the room as you sloppily swap spit with your boyfriend, you both getting drunk on kisses and giggling over the drooling dripping on the corners of your lips all the way down to your chins as kai whispered ‘i love you’ followed by a ‘you’re so pretty like a doll’ each time he pulled away from your lips for a split second

you were blushing and saying small ‘thank yous’ and ‘i love you too’ and everything was fine until you felt your pussy ache again and you being unsure and afraid of that you pulled away giving kai the excuse of needing air

but kai knew you better than anyone, he knew something was wrong and you were clearly upset. and this caused him to look at you with droopy eyes and pouting lips; “what’s wrong baby? you’re still with me?” he scans your face with his eyes as he placed his large hands on your cheeks

you were still embarrassed but this secret has been eating you alive for so long, and you trusted kai wouldn’t judge you so you finally decided to fess up. “it aches” you’d tear up again not really sure how to word how you were feeling

“it aches? what aches baby?” kai’s face looks more worried as he tilts his head trying to scan your face he was pretty sure you had a headache or something.

you whimpered quietly as you point to your lower region; “right here” and immediately kai reaches down to massage your stomach thinking that’s what you meant but this only made you more whiny.

“kai! it doesn’t ache there!” your voice grew more high pitched as kai just looked at you confused. “so where does it ache then? your thighs?” the blacked haired male frowns his eyebrows

you huffed having enough of your boyfriend being oblivious so you decided to take matters into your hands and lightly drag kai’s hand down from your stomach to your pussy making a light bomb switch on in kai’s head

“oh no baby your cunnie aches? is that what you’re trying to tell me?” kai coos at you tracing your pussy with his pointer finger through your ruffle skirt making you shiver as you rapidly nod your head yes

“mhm” you’d whimper your eyes tearing up more as you were already feeling so out of it and fucked dumb despite all you two had done was make out but kai senses this and smiles at you showing off his smiley piercing; “yeah? hurts right here? or does it ache here baby?” kai’s grin widens more as he aims his rubbing on your pussy on your clit now

this made your breath quicken as you nod desperately telling him to keep going even though it was new to you both and he didn’t really know what he was doing, he just gotten sex advice from yeonjun last time he hung out with him at the skate park

kai laughs at your state, enjoying how he’s barely rubbing your pussy through your clothes and you’re already fucked out just by his dirty talk. “are you sure this is what you wanna do?” he’s hinting on finally taking your virginity and losing his with you

you nod eagerly unable to speak properly as you’re already so far gone just by kai’s touches and kisses making your boyfriend smile again at you

kai drops his head down to the ends of your skirt trying to hide how nervous he was along with his blush his smiley peeking out as he smiles more; “alright baby just let me get a condom and you just get comfy yeah?”

“holy shit” kai mutters out of breath already once he’s fully inside of you he doesn’t really know what to do or how to feel

he wanted to try his best on pleasuring you but honestly he secretly doesn’t know shit about anything sex related unless it’s from somebody else or from porno he watched; so he hoped just winging it with you would hide that fact

and it seemed to work because he can feel how wet you were and how eager your pussy was to grip onto his length, boosting his ego a bit as he felt you grip onto his arms tighter when he begins to slam his cock in your cervix; slamming him length inside of your velvety walls so aggressively all you could hear was the sounds of your pussy squelching around him making kai grin down at your needy state

“feels good?” he looks at you all cheeky trying to be confident but really he’s still nervous about not making you feel good

you hiccup, nodding your head as you again really couldn’t speak due to how much pleasure you were receiving; this made kai’s confidence go up by 100 as he also felt you squeezing him so tight he couldn’t move anymore

“gonna cum for me?” your boyfriend tells you growing tired already since he honestly didn’t have that much stamina and he’s afraid to admit at how quick he’s cumming

and with a nod he sighs in relief as he lazily and sloppily rubs your clit in hopes of you cumming first so he wouldn’t have to be embarrassed at cumming too soon especially before you

“still aching baby?” kai asked you laughing as you quickly shook your head no; “i love you my sweet girl” kai whispered in your ear as he big spooned you to sleep and you lazily mutter a ‘i love you too’

a/n <3: this was my first time writing himbo txt im sorry if this sucked oomf 😔

#angelina’s garden ♡!#coquette #emo boyfriend #emo x coquette #txt x reader #txt x y/n #txt #txt smut #txt headcanons #txt reactions #txt oneshots #txt kai #txt imagines

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roxxie-wolf · 16 hours

Text

𝒜 𝒮𝓉𝒶𝓇

Chapter 1 ⭐️

Pairing: Lucifer x Fem!Reader

Summary: Helping Angel from getting a beating to entering a hotel and meeting someone who you will become close with.

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: bad choking, bad word, idk what else. If there’s something else please let me know.

Note: I will post for this one every Saturday. I’m not so sure how I did. I tried though.😭

MDI

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝟣

You were getting ready for the next shoot today after days of shooting, wondering when Valentino would let you rest. “Hey are you ready yet,” Valentino's angry voice interrupted your thoughts.

“Yes, I’m going” Frustrated, you confirmed that you were, putting on the last piece, a garter belt. Standing up and fixing yourself, you headed out.

As you stepped out, the bright lights of the set blinded you for a moment. Valentino was pacing back and forth.

“Finally,” he muttered as he saw you, but the edge in his voice softened when he took in your appearance. “You look… perfect.” Valentino shoots you a grin crossing his arms. “Alright then amorcito take a sit on the bed and get ready,”

You didn’t have the energy to respond with anything more than a nod. You made your way towards the heart shaped bed. The set was bustling with activity, everyone moving to the rhythm of a silent, urgent symphony. You took your place, the camera lens focusing on you.

On your left, a door swung open and out stepped Angel, donning a garter belt as well. As you positioned yourself, a demon stood beside you, patiently waiting. Meanwhile, another demon eagerly awaited Angel's next move.

As Angel neared, Valentino rose from his seat, reaching out to grasp Angel's neck and lift him high. With a surge of urgency, you leaped from the bed, shouting, "Let him go, pay attention to me!" Seizing Valentino's arm, you tried to pry him away from Angel's neck.

Valentino's grip on Angel tightened, his eyes blazing with an anger that seemed to consume him. You could see the confusion and fear in Angel's eyes, a plea for help that was silent but loud in its desperation.

Baffled by Valentino's actions, you sensed his longstanding anger towards Angel. "Where have you been, you insolent brat," Val's words lashed out as his other hand shoved you to the ground. Undeterred, you rose to your feet once more, pleading, "Val, I need your assistance, please."

For a moment, Valentino's eyes flickered towards you a look of surprise and confusion. “What do you need now you bitch,” his words came out with a hint of venom. “I - I need you to come here with me, I have to show you something,” you stammered, approaching him cautiously swaying your hips. Slowly, the pressure around Angel's neck lessened. Angel gasped for air, collapsing to the ground as Valentino released him completely.

A sinister grin played on Valentino's lips, intrigued by your cryptic request. With his focus now on you, Val advanced and seized your face with two hands while securing your hips with the other two. As you gazed past him, you witnessed Angel on the floor, struggling for breath, sitting up coughing and rubbing his neck. His eyes wide with a mix of gratitude and confusion.

Valentino's voice jolted you back to attention as he demanded, “What are you looking at?”Startled, you turned your focus back to him, "Nothing," gently placing your hand on Valentino's that rested on your cheek, offering a forced smile. Though fear gripped you, you refused to let it show. Angel watched as you reached out to Val.

“Let’s continue the shoot shall we?,”you whispered softly. "Very well, let’s continue," Valentino responded, clapping his hands to signal the team to resume their tasks. You were relieved that he had listened to you. You guess it was because he was desperate to finish this shoot.

Valentino had a vision, and he expected nothing but perfection from you. The pressure was on as you settled into your first pose, feeling the heat of the lights beating down on your skin. The demon beside you adjusted your position, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

The shoot seemed to drag on for hours, each moment filled with tension and anticipation. Valentino was a perfectionist, and he didn't settle for anything less than flawless. Sweat trickled down your back as you pushed your body to its limits, contorting and twisting in ways you never thought possible.

As the shoot finally came to an end, you collapsed onto the bed, your body aching and exhausted. Valentino's voice cut through the silence, his tone approving but demanding more. You knew there would be no rest for the wicked, especially not when Valentino was involved.

The studio lights dimmed, signaling the end of a grueling day. The air was thick with the scent of hard work and the faintest hint of satisfaction from Valentino's rare nod of approval. You lay there on the bed, every muscle crying out for reprieve.

Valentino's shadow loomed over you, his figure outlined by the backlight. "You did well today amorcito," the term of endearment rolling off his tongue with a familiarity that belied the tension between you. "But we both know you can do even better,” His grin didn't reach his eyes, and it was clear that his praise was a double-edged sword.

You met his gaze, your own eyes heavy with exhaustion. Words were unnecessary; your silence spoke volumes. The last thing you wanted was his proximity, his presence a reminder of the power he wielded.

Val turned around and left. You were left alone on the bed, the imprint of the day's events heavy in the air. But you wouldn't allow the weight to pin you down. With a strength born of necessity, you pushed yourself off the bed and moved towards the sanctuary of your room. Each step was a small victory, a defiance of the control he sought to maintain.

Valentino's softness was a facade, a manipulation you had come to recognize all too well. You knew better than to let your guard down, to mistake his gentleness for kindness. In this dance of shadows and light, you had learned to navigate the treacherous waters of Valentino's moods.

As you closed the door behind you, the click of the latch was a temporary barrier, a momentary breath of safety in a world where you had to be ever vigilant.

The room was your sanctuary, a place where the chaos of the outside world couldn't reach you. As you sat at the vanity, the layers of the day's persona fell away with each piece of makeup you removed. The knock on the door was soft, almost hesitant, but it shattered the solitude you were clinging to.

Angel's figure filled the doorway, his posture uncharacteristically subdued. "Hey toots," he murmured, a term of endearment that felt out of place in the silence of the room.

You glanced past him, ensuring the coast was clear, before stepping aside to let him in. The click of the door shutting behind him was a definitive sound, a full stop to the day's sentence.

"I just came to say thank you for earlier," his voice tinged with a nervousness that didn't quite match the cocky persona he projected on set. His hand went to the back of his neck, a self-soothing gesture that spoke volumes.

"Sure no problem, anytime," you responded with a wink, injecting a bit of levity into the moment.

“Hey, do ya want to come with me somewhere?”the prospect of an escape from the day's drama was like a breath of fresh air. Angel's invitation was a welcome distraction, a chance to step out of the role you had been playing and just be yourself for a while.

"Where?" your curiosity piqued.

"To the hotel. I want to introduce ya to some of my friends," his cheerfulness infectious. It was clear he was looking forward to the evening as much as you were. The idea of meeting new people, experiencing something different, was enticing.

"Sure why not! But first, let me change and put something more decent," the excitement bubbling up inside you. The thought of getting out, even if just for a few hours, was exhilarating.

As Angel waited patiently, you rifled through your wardrobe, selecting something that was comfortable yet chic. Tonight was about unwinding, about finding a moment of normalcy in the whirlwind of your profession.

Dressed and ready, you glanced at Angel, who gave you an approving nod. "Let's go," he smiled, and you couldn't help but return it.

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list so you be updated every time.^^

Also I sometimes tend to make minor changes to the chapters.

Thank you! For reading I hope you enjoyed it.⭐️

TAGLIST: @hazelfoureyes

#lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin lucifer #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel

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formula-nyoom · 14 hours

Note

Hello hello hope you are swell 🩵 I see you do platonic drivers 👀👀

Could it be possible to request a platonic! Reader who is a younger sister (that is also a driver, any team) to a driver of your choice who is given either a drink or meal before going on the race and getting a severe allergic reaction. Like rushed to the hospital asap reaction please 🥺

A/N: The only thing I’m allergic to is bullshit(and mosquitoes), so I don’t know what it’s like to have an allergic reaction to food. Hopefully I wrote this ok but do let me know if there are things I need to change. I decided to keep this as a blurb only because it's so similar to the last oneshot I wrote and I went with Oscar for this one

~~~

“Shouldn’t they be back by now with our drink bottles refilled?” Your teammate asked as you looked over some data. The race was set to start in just under an hour and the matter your teammate was more concerned about is the assistant that had gone to refill both your drink bottles rather than look over data with you.

“They only left a minute ago. I know you’re used to everything going fast but they’re not a race car.”

“Well they better be back soon with my energy drink. I have to drink one before every race. Helps with my performance.” Your teammate said. You just rolled your eyes.

The assistant soon came back with both your drink bottles refilled. You thanked them and took it. As you were about to take a swig, your phone vibrated with a text from your brother, Oscar.

Papaya-Bro: Chit chat before the race?

More often than not, you and Oscar would find each other in your respective drivers rooms to talk before the race. It was a small amount of time where the two of you would talk about anything but racing, giving the two of you a sense of peace before you had to face the chaos of Formula One. You sent him a text that you were on your way over and made your way to the McLaren garage. Some of the McLaren workers waved at you as you walked in, having gotten used to you making appearances in the garage to see your brother.

“Mom wants to know what she should cook for dinner when we come back home.” Oscar said, looking down at his phone while sitting in a chair.

“I’ve been craving her meatloaf for the past couple days. Ask her if she'll make that.” You said, taking a sip from your drink bottle. Your face scrunched up in disgust as you tasted something that wasn’t water on your tongue. You ended up swallowing whatever it was you just drank as your first reflex was to gag at the taste of whatever you consumed. It was sour, with a hint of fruitiness.

“What’s wrong?” Oscar asked.

“This isn’t water.” You said, handing him your drink bottle. “Taste this for me.”

You gagged again and then started to cough as Oscar took a swig of the mysterious drink.

“Yea, that’s not water.” He said. “It’s got a–”

“--fruity taste.” You started to cough more violently while trying to gasp for breath. Your throat felt like it was closing in on itself as you struggled to breath.

Oscar didn’t have time to figure out exactly what the drink was. He was able to guess what was in it though as he witnessed you starting to have a severe allergic reaction to whatever the mysterious drink was.

“I need medical assistance!” He called out into the hallway, hoping anyone heard him. Oscar quickly opened the front pocket of his backpack that always carried the spare epipen and grabbed it. By now you had gotten down to the floor, still struggling to breathe. Kneeling down in front of you, Oscar steadied the orange tip over your outer thigh, before having it make contact with the fabric of your race suit. He pushed the auto inject button till he heard the click. He then looked down at his watch to watch the seconds go by.

“One…two…three…”Oscar then removed the epipen and checked to see if it went in. But to his horror, there was no puncture hole from the needle. Of course race suits that were designed to keep a driver safe from getting burned or injured in a crash can prevent a needle from going through the fabric.

“I NEED SERIOUS MEDICAL ASSISTANCE!” Oscar yelled again. This time someone seemed to have heard him as a McLaren worker came in with a medic right behind them.

“She’s having an allergic reaction! The epi pen didn’t puncture through the race suit!”

The medic took out a pair of scissors and an epi pen before they started quickly cutting the pant leg of your race suit and fire proofs. Once the material was cut away enough to reveal the skin of your upper thigh, the medic didn’t hesitate in administering the epipen, which successfully went through this time. Oscar helped steady the pen while the medic put an oxygen mask over your face to help you breathe while the medicine worked its way through your system.

Eventually you were able to breathe again and your throat no longer felt like it was closing up. But you and Oscar both knew that you couldn’t just hop in the car and race. You’d have to be taken to the hospital to make sure whatever allegens you had consumed were fully out of your system. Oscar made sure one of the McLaren personnel went over to your team garage to inform your team that you had an allergic reaction and could no longer race today, before he helped you up off the floor and handed you off to the medical staff.

“Kick their asses for me.” You said to Oscar before leaving, your voice raspy from coughing.

“Will do.” He promised.

~~~

Oscar was a bit rattled throughout the race because of what had taken place just before it. That wasn’t the first time he had to administer an epipen for you, he’s seen you have allergic reactions before. But the fact that it didn’t work the first time is what really freaked him out. But knowing that you were ok and breathing was enough for him to score P3. And the fact that he beat your teammate seemed to make you happy so Oscar took that as a win.

“Because I saved your life today, can you let me freely pass you during the next race and defend me from the people behind?” Oscar asked as he drove you home from the hospital.

“You didn’t save my life. The medical staff did.” You said, playing with the medical band around your wrist.

“I attempted to! If our race suits weren’t made so tough to protect us from crashes, you wouldn’t have needed to be rushed here.”

“That’s kinda a big flaw with the race suits. They can protect us from fiery crashes but prevent someone from administering an epi pen.” You noted.

“I’ll talk with the FIA tomorrow to propose new safety regulations so race suits have to be made so a giant needle can break through the fabric. I’m sure that will go over well with the other drivers.” Oscar joked. Your phone buzzed and you looked down to see a text from yours and Oscar’s manager.

“Mark just texted me. Apparently the energy drinks my teammate has before every race are now banned from the garage. Turns out it’s got lychee in it.” You told your brother.

“Honestly they should have been banned from the start to prevent what happened today.” Oscar said. You nodded in agreement.

“So you’re not going to let me pass during the next race?” Oscar asked. You rolled your eyes.

“Only if you defend me from my teammate if they end up behind you. Which is often.”

#formula 1 x reader #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x sister!reader #platonic grid x reader

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munson-blurbs · 3 days

Note

Hey, I love your writing so much! If you’re taking requests I’d like a short fic about reader mourning the loss of their dog? I just lost my girl Sasha and would like a comfort fic , Eddie or Steve, either is cool with me- phantom

Hi, love 💚 I'm so sorry to hear about your loss, and I hope this fic helps you through the grieving process. I went with Eddie for this one.

TW: death, loss of a pet, grief CW: 690

It feels like it should be raining.

The sun hangs high in the sky, a gentle breeze blowing every so often. The weather gives no indication of any impending storm, not even a hint of gray in the white clouds. But to you, there’s a darkness that even the brightest light can’t repair.

There will be no more wagging tail and excited barking to greet you when you come home. The realization cleaves your heart clean in half.

Tears burn at your eyes and you let them fall, sliding down your cheeks and plopping unceremoniously onto the concrete stoop beneath you.

“Hey.”

You look up and see Eddie standing in front of you, a cellophane-wrapped bouquet of daisies in his grasp.

“Hi.”

The wrapping crinkles under his fingers as he sits beside you. He scoots close enough so you can rest your head on his shoulder. An ugly sob escapes you in a dramatic heave, but he refrains from commenting. In fact, he doesn’t say anything at all.

You bask in the comforting silence, no expectations to talk or bare your feelings. Eddie presses a kiss to your forehead and sighs.

“Can I say something?” He asks, and for the first time, you notice that he’s been crying, too. When you nod, he softly says, “She was a really good dog. The best, actually.”

“Mhm.” You don’t dare open your mouth for fear of starting up the waterworks again.

“I keep thinking about the time I brought over burgers from Benny’s,” he continues, “and I left them on the counter for two seconds, and she tore into them.”

You scoff lightly. “It was more than two seconds.”

“Okay, well, I didn’t time it or anything. But it was fast. Like, lightning speed.” He taps his toe, knee brushing against the flower stems. “These are for you, by the way.”

Taking the daisies from him, you hold them to your nose and inhale. Fresh, new, alive. The juxtaposition has your chin wobbling embarrassingly. “Th-Thanks, Eds.”

Another pause, then: “Y’know, I lost a pet once, too.”

You swivel around, eyebrows pinched together. “I didn’t know Wayne let you have a pet.”

“He didn’t. I had to keep it a secret.”

“How did you manage to keep a dog a secret?” It’s not as though he and his uncle lived in a mansion; the tiniest Chihuahua could be easily spotted in their trailer.

Eddie grins. “Who said anything about a dog?”

“A cat?”

He shook his head, giving the same response for your guesses of rabbit, lizard, and bird.

“Do I even wanna know?”

He presses a hand to his heart in feigned offense. “I can’t believe you don’t remember Ant-chovy.”

You burst out laughing despite the weighty grief bogging you down. “Are you seriously comparing the death of my dog to the death of an ant?”

“He was my friend!” Eddie retorts. “And he was murdered right before my very eyes!”

You knock your shoulder into his with a playful shove. “Weren’t you the one who stepped on him?”

He scowls and plucks the bouquet from your hands. “I bring you flowers in your time of need, and you mock me?”

A smile tugs at your lips. “My deepest apologies. And my condolences for the loss of your dear friend, Ant-chovy. Who certainly was not an ant and who you definitely knew for more than five minutes.”

“Thank you.” Eddie gives you back the daisies; this time, he leans his head on your shoulder. “You’re gonna get through this.”

“Feels like I’ll be sad forever.”

He nods. “I know. But you won’t be. And I’m not going anywhere until you tell me to fuck off.”

You take a deep breath. “Is it okay if we talk a little bit about her? Like, share memories of her? Just for a little bit?”

“Course it’s okay.” Eddie smiles, coaxing the emotions from you without even trying. “You wanna go first?”

You do. With each word, the sunshine doesn’t sting quite as harshly; the blue sky seems less out of place. And should the rain start to fall, you will always find shelter in Eddie.

#eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #eddie x reader #requests

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mossy123302 · 3 days

Text

I AM SO DUMB AND SILLY- HOLD ON-

SHE WANTS ME TO BE LOVED BY THE HAPPY FITS IS DEATHDUO/PISSA CODED. HELLO??? Maybe someone already mentioned this song- I don't know, I didn't see anyone mention it— BUT IT FITS?? IT FITS THEM BOTH

I know you know, I'm not too discreet

Walking around, heart on my sleeve

So, you say you love me, but not the way I need

Things are so close to what I want to be

I've known you so long, and maybe too well

All of the boys, you kiss and tell

Though I'll never be them, see I'm just a good friend

Though it's not quite bliss, I don't want this to end

Missa, it's so Missa coded with these words. He's more emotional, he's more open with his feelings and he's always nervous and embarrassed. He is vocal and is more connected with his feelings. It was so obvious that Philza even knows, he knows what Missa said when he tried to speak quickly in Spanish. Missa isn't exactly good at hiding it, but he sure knows not to press further in Philza's boundaries!!

Missa wants more, but he knows Philza isn't comfortable. So he's content with their arrangements, even if he wants more! He still wants to be Philza's friend, someone Philza can turn to even when he wasn't around as much for the kids!!

(also the whole "all of the boys, you kiss and tell" is a silly hint how Philza is super comfortable with Fit and others. You know what I mean-)

Let's take a walk down by the beach

It's warm on the sand, we'll save space for Jesus

I'll pick you flowers while you count the hours

'Til you can go home and watch drama TV

I'll say it now, there's no turnin' back

Time after time, my odds are stacked

So, I'll say no kiddin' while you wish I didn't

Maybe this time will be different for me

Philza, ohh, this old crow father is so repressed with his feelings. We have to rely on his actions, and sometimes actions speak a lot (not for Missa. PLZ- we need to gently hit him with a hammer to get him to understand).

But we can see how Philza keeps things that remind him of Missa. He kept the armor stand for so long, holding hope that Missa will eventually return. He tells Tallulah about Missa, and Chayanne keeps the skull that Missa gave him.

We can see the gradual shift as time flows, and seeing how the other Islanders start to get into more relationships. Philza is slowly starting to yearn and do things, or well say, he'd never would say about someone else (other than his wife). And by God's, the new crumbs we got just confirms this because of how much he changed from "platonic government assigned husband" to "MY Missa"

Also the way Philza gets so sad and upset when he mentions how Missa thinks Philza doesn't want him-

One day you'll love me before we grow old

All of your wishes to have and to hold

I'll do your dishes and ask for no kisses

So, I'll tell you what I want if

You tell me what you want is

Quit movin'

Quit dancin'

Why can't you love me here tonight?

The yearning from Philza, who desperately wants his platonic spouse back. He'd do anything for him, get him anything if he can just come back hommeeee and Missa is willing to do anything whatever Philza says he needs him to do. He won't press further, until Philza says something-

lord help me-

Deathduo/pissa crumbs save me...

#deathduo #pissa #thoughts #qsmp

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nalyra-dreaming · 3 days

Note

Something something about the sequence of "Marius de Romanus, Venitian contemporary of Tintoretto's", "The Groan" and "I serve a god" in the very same dialogue exchange + Real Rashid + Marius burning Eudoxia's acolyte Rashid + Eudoxia wanting to take TWMBK for herself + the way Children of the Millennia worshipped Akasha + Teskhamen being part of Akasha's original cult, the founder of the Talamasca and Marius' maker + the Talamasca finding Marius' painting + these paintings hanging in Dubai

I sound schizophreinc but I swear I'm not. I feel like I'm onto something that I can't fully grasp yet but something like the show merging the concept of Marius and the Talamasca together somehow??? I don't know I need to watch S2 right now😭😭😭

Alright *cracks knuckles* :)

So I am (not sure if you know but probably) firmly in the team "Marius is somewhere around and TWMBK are in the basement. And Lestat is probably there in his coma as well.".

For me (myself and I) all the hints point to that.

The painting, the comment re the prime minister, the groan, Fareed, Armand's little comment re serving a god. If the groan is Armand being annoyed or TWMBK will be something that will be interesting to see, but...

I really do not think you schizophrenic :)))

Marius has ties to the Talamasca (Raymond Galant), not only through his maker (though that is indeed a rather strong tie) but also through his contacts to it through the ages.

I absolutely believe that some of his painting will play a rather important role still in the show(s), especially since the set design emphasizes their meaning so much.

So yes. Marius' painting(s) in Dubai. I would bet anything that there are (at least a few) more in the basement. I would bet a lot that there is more than furniture in the basement, too. (In fact I think @cbrownjc might be right on the track in their fic installment, but that just as a note, this aligns to 99% with what I expect as well^^).

It's just the setup of it all. It carries meaning.

Like, Armand wouldn't hang that painting if some things haven't happened. And, as much as he loves/hates/wants Lestat... would he say Lestat is a god? Then again, him being sun-proof (and Louis not) puts us in such an interesting time frame in the books.... and that little easter-egg/hint with the "Book of Hours", too... because remember where that was mentioned?? Right, in Memnoch. By DAVID. David, who implies that they, aka the Talamasca, were tracking said Book of Hours... which had been lost in Berlin in the Second World War. (Btw, I will forever and for all time adore them if Louis just happens to lose some luggage with that darn book on his and Claudia's travels. Seriously. Please.)

Fareed and Seth... and Gregory. And Teskhamen. And Raymond. Hesketh. The Talamasca. Gregory's pharmaceutical empire and Fareed's research. (Which could easily produce special medicine for Daniel). Seth, Akasha's son. The paintings in the living room depicting "mother and daughter"... and "twins".

It's all connected.

And I mean.... knowing the last books... it's not really a far stretch that Marius is involved with the Talamasca. Leads them even, maybe :))))

The show is building up the lore in a quite incredible way, imho. I just hope they do not lose sight of all the threads, because this... if it unfolds over the next seasons as I suspect it will??? ... will be breathtaking.

#Anonymous #asks #ask nalyra #amc iwtv #iwtv #amc interview with the vampire #interview with the vampire amc #iwtv amc #iwtv 2022 #interview with the vampire #the vampire chronicles #vc #vampire chronicles #marius de romanus #iwtv marius #talamasca #vc lore #iwtv lore

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acourtofthought · 3 days

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I just saw an Elriel post that highlighted the "mating bond is a bridge between souls" line and then showed Feysand quotes to emphasize the point. They then showed the Elriel quote, "the only bridge of connection between them...that knife" and a quote that says how Lucien had "done nothing to bridge the gap between them"

I find it ironic that they used that specific quote for Elriel since it literally says that the ONLY bridge of connection between Elain and Azriel is truth teller, and then Elain gives truth teller back. Meaning there is no more bridge connecting them.

Also, I will never understand how they bash Lucien for apparently not trying hard enough to connect with Elain, but as soon as he does try anything, they scream that he's possessive and taking away Elain's choice. So, what exactly do they want from him?

Also, there is a quote from Lucien where he literally says that the bond between him and Elain is real, "it's a read thread." So, is there an emotional gap between Lucien and Elain right now? Yes, which is completely understandable. But is there also a mating bond, a bridge between souls, between them? Also, yes.

To your point at the end, it is ok there's an emotional gap between Lucien and Elain. I don't want them connecting in someone else's book, I don't want Elain's feelings to be evident for him where I'm not getting to experience it all from her POV. I don't want a flashing neon sign proclaiming "they're in love!" rather than seeing it happen in their story. SJM left me enough hints to feel confident while still looking forward to their romance playing out in real time. Also, this wasn't in the novella for shits and giggles: "Stay out of it. She's not ready, and neitehr is he, no matter how many presents they bring." "Let him live with his Band of Exiles. Let him deal with Tamlin in his own way. Let him figure out where he wants to be. Who he wants to be. The same goes with her." "Just be patient. It'll sort itself out. It always does." "I want them to be happy. All of them." "They will be" She said the simple words with such unflagging conviction that I believed her. That covers it all. The reason Elain and Lucien are currently at odds, the reason Lucien still has not attempted to bridge the gap. Neither is ready, they still have too much of their own problems to figure out before they can turn to romance. Elain needed to accept becoming fae, needing to consider the possibility of actually being with a fae (and not jumping right into an intense mating bond), Lucien needed time to really think about what he wants from his future, where he wants to live (it's not going to be the human lands forever), how he wants to deal with his relationship with Tamlin. Now that SF has ended they've had 16 months to do exactly that and there's a good chance that Mor's prediction is about to take off. The funniest thing is they'll destroy Lucien's character for keeping his distance from Elain while applauding Az for doing the exact same thing. Lucien can't stand being near Elain because he sees her current distance and it hurts him. It's evident he still thinks about her, he asked Feyre how she was doing, brought her a present, asked if she still mourned Graysen (which means he is respecting the love she had for someone else). We know an unfulfilled bond can drive males mad and that is another reason it's a strain for him. Az avoided Elain because he can't stand the scent of her bond. Did she ask him to stay away? Did she ignore him? Lucien is doing what he's doing because he's respecting Elain's clues for space and time though it pains him to do so. Az is doing what he's doing for his own selfish reasons. Elain could have used a support system in the NC over the past year but Az chose to focus on his own needs instead of what would have been best for her. The scent of her bond isn't going anywhere and he chose to make that the driving factor of whether to spend time with her or not which means he'll never spend time with her unless the bond suddenly disappeared. That's not a worthy male. And yes, "the ONLY bridge of connection, that knife." Which means, after Elain returned TT, there was no remaining bridge of connection. Sure they were willing to make out but the author is LITERALLY telling us there's nothing to support their pairing long term. The one thing that seemed to connect them is not the foundation that true love is built on. It makes me laugh when this line is used romantically but when the other hints that are used throughout the series also receive the blinder treatment, I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Like Elain and Az outside, his leathers SO AT ODDS with the beautiful garden. Or Elain with spring blooming behind her and death on the other side. Elain sitting in the sunniest windows, as if "any bit of darkness was abhorrent", Elain in black, "no matter that she declared herself part of this court, it sucked the life from her."

A near kiss and a few glances mean nothing when the author is continually feeding us line after line about how Elain is not where she's meant to be and she's not ending up with the guy who is completely at odds with her in every way despite her efforts to distract herself from her problems by engaging in a crush on him.

#pro elucien #elucien #anti e/riel

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hermidetta · 3 days

Note

[ 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 ] : sender has just found the receiver who's been missing for weeks.

“Hello again, Bernadetta.” (Though they do not smile, there is a hint of amusement in their voice.) “I imagine your sudden disappearance was on purpose?”

Lin wouldn’t be surprised if so—with how often Bernadetta took to her lonesome, it was only a matter of time until she vanished without a word. (Or maybe there was a word—just not to the masses of Garreg Mach.)

Of course, it also could’ve been that she was kidnapped and just recently rescued. Linhardt wouldn’t know.

“So, how was your time in perfect isolation?” he continues, hardly taking a moment to pause. “Find any new hobbies? Sculpting, perhaps?”

* for you i would.

i'm learning to become all the space i need.

"more water for you, less water for you—a cute little bug for you, and a sprinkle of fertilizer for your neighbor! wow, that stuff's stinky. almost as stinky as that owen dart guy." and bernadetta gets professor dark's name wrong on purpose just because, a jolly little hmph and hum in tow as she tends to her plant children. so caught up in herself she is that linhardt's presence sneaks up on her like an afternoon shadow.

"eep! lin, li-linhardt!" she sputters, watering pail fumbling in her hands; it jostles between her grasp a few times before she finally catches ahold of it, both arms crushing the tool to her chest with a heavy slosh. bernadetta spins around to him with puffed cheeks and a tiny stomp of her foot.

"bernie almost had a heart attack! how are you so quiet, huh? like a sneaky garden snake, but fluffier!" all huffed without any real bite—if anything she's more embarrassed that he might have overheard her gibberish.

come to think of it, though, linhardt is probably the first person she's really had to speak to in... how many skipped lectures was it now? probably longer than what was socially acceptable. simmering down some, bernadetta sets down the watering pail and fiddles with her thumbs behind her back, swaying in place while avoiding his gaze.

"well, um," she starts, miles gentler and with a tinge of shame, "yes? uh-oh, you're not here to tell me our professors are upset, are you? and instead of new hobbies, it's more like bernie's been hiding with old ones..."

like gardening, an arm meekly gestures. "... but you found me, so now what?"

#pridelessdaydreamer #asks /#LINNNNNNN i sob and reach for them ty for sending :pleading:#bernadetta vc ggrrrr grrrrrrr (unintimidating) ggrrr fluffy haired fiend......what sorcery is this (she was simply not paying attention)#they're the best colors for real (cabbage) (green and porple)

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animasolaoriginal · 2 days

Text

I n n o c e n c e L o s t

He finds her in a brothel of all places. A chance encounter, but one that will change his life – and hers – forever. – or: A story about a cowboy who falls in love with a prostitute, who happens to be so much more than that.

GENERAL TAGS: NSFW! Explicit! Size difference, age gap, slow burn romance. Cowboys, outlaws, prostitutes. Historical inaccuracy. Horses, guns, violence.

__ Chapter 1: The Girl __

m!OC x f!OC -- WORDS: 5.9k -- READ ON AO3

when a cowboy meets a prostitute

Bourbon, rum, whiskey, anything that burns on his tongue, spilling liquid fire down his throat. It all blurs in the end. There's laughter, slurs, hands slapping backs, stumbling, murmurs, more laughter. That post-heist-haze sinking into his bones. Everything whirls inside his head as he makes it up the stairs. “Gimme your best...newest,” he hears himself mumble.

Last door on the right. Somehow he makes it there, leans heavy on the door knob, twists it, almost falls as the door swings open. There he stiffens, blinks slowly, his motions so heavy, frozen in time, slow as molasses. The door closes behind him, he stares ahead, blinks again, eyelids almost stuck to his eyeballs.

And yet he sees her.

The room is dark, small, a large bathtub in one corner, a four-poster bed in the other. An old armchair next to a fireplace, the fire roaring within, the only light source. And in front of it, between the flames and the chair, kneels a girl, pale legs illuminated by the orange glow next to her, skin, so much skin, not everywhere though. Her slender torso is covered by a loose blouse, unbuttoned in the front, falling off one slim shoulder, held together by a tight corset that pushes up her small breasts, creating a cleavage that doesn't suit her. Thin arms in wide cotton, or satin, he can't be sure, it doesn't matter.

He's fixated on her bare legs. The blouse barely covers the hint of hair between her legs, peeking out despite her kneeling position, thighs pressed tightly together as she sits on the heels of her feet. Her hands rest folded on her lap, the chest is moving up and down, and his eyes wander again, to her face. Pale. Soft edges on the jaw, high cheekbones, a small straight nose, lips... full lips, pink and shiny, a tongue darting out and wetting the bottom one.

And those eyes. Big eyes, glowing in the dim light, greenish, blue maybe, like the deep sea at midnight, a wave illuminated by the moon. They look both surprised and eager, but the flutter of her nostrils tells him she is more surprised and shocked by his sudden entrance, by the unsteadiness of his large body.

She looks so young.

Something stirs within him, and not just the strain in his pants, but something more like a knot in his stomach. This is wrong. He stumbles further anyway, watching her closely. She flinches when he comes closer, but doesn't move. Somehow he makes it to the armchair, flops down in it with a heavy grunt, his belt tilting even more on his hips. He shifts his holster away. Her eyes follow him.

He stares at the girl in front of him, immobile, waiting, patient and yet anxious. What is she waiting for? Why isn't she moving? Why is she here? When she eventually moves, only slightly, a little shift on her knees to face him, he lets out a groan, and she stops, eyes wide.

“How old are you?” he slurs, tongue heavy in his mouth.

She tilts her head, long brown waves falling over her shoulder, some strands gathering in the cleft between her pushed-up breasts. “Old enough to please you, mister,” she replies, her voice feeble and quiet, but there's a fire behind those words, uttered in confidence as if she's done it before, many times.

“Age,” he grunts again, staring at her. She holds his gaze, jaw clenching slightly.

“Eighteen,” she says quietly, her chin tilted up a bit.

He narrows his eyes, he's noticed the twitch in her folded hands, the tension in her slim shoulders. “Really?”

“Yes, sir,” she whispers, tilting her head. “Why does it matter?” she then asks, a little louder, batting those long eyelashes. “You're here to have some fun, aren't you?”

“You're young,” he simply states. Not too young, maybe, but young... young enough to make him think despite his drunken state. This is wrong. She shouldn't be here. “How long have you been here?” Done this?

“All my life, mister,” she answers, and he frowns, deep creases on his forehead that hurt inside his temples. “I was born here.” The ache grows. His head thumbs to the beat of his thundering heart, mirroring the throbbing behind stiff fabric.

He leans forwards then, causing her to flinch once more, as he rests his elbows on his thighs and stares at her, scrutinizing her, takes in her young face. Pretty, no, beautiful, in spite (or because) of the rounded edges of her face. She's slender, sharp collarbones visible in the wide opening of her blouse. Those soft mounds tease him, urge him to release them from their unnaturally squished state.

His hand twitches, itches to touch her, but something holds him back. She's young. And... weirdly familiar. His eyes narrow even further as he squints at her, her small frame dark in front of the crackling fire. She shifts under his intense gaze, body stiff, hands wringing in her lap.

“Sir?” she whispers, lips moving slightly, a sweet voice like honey falling from them. Lips... full, shiny, wet, and a sudden image presses into his hazy mind. Lips parted, closed around –

He clears his throat and leans back with a grunt, wiping at his face, the scrape of his beard against his calloused palm a rough noise in the quiet of the room. He sighs deeply, lowering his hand, resting it on his upper thigh as he watches the girl.

“You shouldn't be here,” he huffs out, wetting his dry lips.

“It's my job, mister,” she says, tilting her head to the other side.

He shakes his head. “This shouldn't be a job... not for a young girl like you...”

“I'm eighteen –”

“You're a child!” he grunts, louder, rougher than intended.

She flinches, inhaling sharply, lowering her big eyes. “Do you want somebody else?” she whispers quietly, almost disappointed.

Suddenly he is aware of the noises around them, bleeding through the walls from the other rooms. Moans and cries and squeaking wood and metal. They crawl over his spine like ants, making him shiver as he stares at the small figure in front of him. Why is he here?

She is still sitting on her knees, stiff and immobile, waiting. For what? Her eyes look up at him, chin tilted, the slender column of her neck visible between her silky hair, soft skin, untouched (really?), innocent. Why is she naked below the waist?

He waves a hand at her, his arm stiff, heavy, the alcohol making everything harder to do. “Shouldn't be here,” he growls, tongue twice its size in his mouth. Does he mean her? Or him? Or both? He doesn't know. His mind is fuzzy, spinning out of control. His cock strains against his tight jeans. But his heart is protesting.

“Sir?” she asks again, blinking slowly, dark lashes batting against pale skin.

He leans back into the chair, inhaling deeply, closing his eyes, relaxing. Big mistake. Suddenly there is a warm hand on his knee, a touch like a pistol shot. He jerks awake, stares down at the girl, who has shifted, kneeling between his spread legs now, the same position, just closer, frozen in time with her other hand hanging in mid-air, ready to touch his other knee.

“What are you doing?” he grunts.

“Giving you a good time,” she replies quietly, and a shy smile curves her full lips. Lips around – He groans, rubbing his face again, his tired eyes. “You paid for this, mister. You should get something for your money.”

He shakes his head, hands back on his thighs, staring down at her. She is closer in her new position, backlit by the fire behind her, features blurring. Both hands are on his knees now, warm and small, hesitant but eager. Her pushed-up breasts nearer, the cleft between them deeper. His hands itch.

“Do you like doing this?” he utters, the words spilling without being processed in his muddled brain.

There is a flinch, a wince, a visible reaction in her tense shoulders. She swallows, her throat moves, but the smile on her lips is there, the lie tangible. “Of course, sir,” she whispers. “Let me show you how much...”

She leans up then, lifting from her knees, her hands sliding up his thighs, almost brushing against his. Actress, he thinks. Nothing more. He can't imagine –

But then he does: full lips around a variety of different – He clenches one hand into a fist, presses it to his upper thigh, straining, ignoring the tension in his stomach. The image stays. Lips, a wide mouth, bulging cheeks, closed eyes, tears streaming down a pale face, slurping sounds, helpless gurgles, muffled gasps, rough hands in her hair as her head is pushed deeper onto –

A groan escapes him. “Fuck,” he growls, shaking his head. His eyes find hers, his breath heavy, his body on edge, the strain in his pants almost unbearable, and yet...

She is settled between his legs, shoulders pressed against his thighs, hands inching closer to his belt. “Don't,” he hisses, and his hands grab hers, making her gasp, her lips parting, eyes widening. His long fingers curl around her smaller ones, holding her, inches from the tent in his pants. She looks startled, then confused.

“But mister...” she whispers, letting him hold her hands, her wrists. His hands are large enough to wrap around it all. Lashes flutter, the tip of her tongue sliding over her upper lip. She trembles slightly.

And then he lets go, and his hands grab her face instead, careful, as careful as he can in his dazed state. She lets out a surprised yelp but stays perfectly still as he cups her cheeks with his big hands, his fingers slipping into her soft hair, his thumbs wiping at the corners of her mouth. She holds his gaze, holds her breath.

“You look like...” he starts, quiet, a low rumble in his chest as he stares at her, his mind spinning, new and old images whirling together.

Soft lips, wet, full, strained around –

Green eyes, sparkling in the sun, a smile, a laugh like honey on his scarred soul.

“Her,” he mumbles, tilting his head, leaning closer until his nose brushes against hers. She stiffens, but doesn't move, can't move with how he holds her face. She swallows slightly, lips trembling against his thumbs.

“Who, sir?” she breathes softly, warm and cautious against his dry lips. Her eyes are on his face, taking in every detail with how close he is. Scars, wrinkles, creases, his rough beard stretching along his jaw, up his cheeks, around his lips, fluttering slightly as he breathes through his nose.

“Keira,” he finally utters, the image clear in his dazed mind. The same woman. No, not the same, similar, and a woman, not a girl. The same hair, the same small nose, the same eyes. “You look like Keira.”

And that's why it feels wrong to use her like he wanted to when he first entered the room, to be here, in this house of moans and grunts and creaking wood and metal.

The girl stares at him, lips parted, face warming under his palms. There's recognition in her deep eyes, darkened by the fire glowing behind her, the only light source. “You... knew my mother?” she whispers, barely audible, shifting back onto her knees, bare legs folded beneath her, her hands straining against his thighs.

His heart sinks and swells at the same time. Mother. Her mother. She looks like her. Like Keira. But what is she doing here? I was born here, she has said. Bound to a life of... servitude. Pleasure for others. A slave, a body to use, for money. The moans and grunts of the other rooms flood his ears, louder than before as his mind clears up, as the shock settles in.

“No,” he says apprehensively, a low hum over his dry lips, and his hands tighten around her delicate face. The girl frowns, he notices his mistake. “I mean, yes, I knew her,” he utters quietly, staring at her, gently caressing the corners of her lips with his thumbs. “I didn't know... about you...”

She blinks slowly, watching him, curiosity in her big eyes. Her lips part, a flood of questions ready to spill over them, but he lets go of her face and leans back, shaking his head.

“What happened to her?” he asks, already afraid of the answer as he drives a big hand through his messy hair.

The small figure between his legs shrinks as she sits down further on her knees, her hands leaving his thighs, resting on her lap. She lowers her eyes, inhales sharply. “I don't know,” she whispers. “She... left me here.” There's a hint of resentment in her soft voice, and he can't blame her. Anger rises in his throat like bile.

“She did what?” he hisses, leaning closer again.

She flinches, looks up. “Madam Claire said she worked here, got pregnant from a customer, gave birth to me, and then left, ran away, without me...” Her voice breaks as she retells her story, and his gut clenches.

The tiny frame in front of him shrinks even more, falls into herself, and he can't stand it. He leans in, brings his hands under her arms and lifts her up, easy, as if she was a doll, her wavy hair bouncing slightly. She struggles in his grip, but then she's sitting sideways on his lap, her very bare bottom warm against the fabric of his jeans. She stiffens when he pulls his arms around her shoulders and her against his broad chest.

“I'm sorry,” he slurs, his tongue heavier than ever.

“What for?” she breathes against his collarbone, where the buttons of his black shirt are open, revealing weathered skin.

He sighs, his hand wide on her back as he holds her, his breath making strands of her hair fly before he presses his dry lips to her warm forehead. She lets out a strangled gasp, tenses in his embrace, her hands squished between his chest and her own. “If I'd known about you – I... wouldn't have left you to this – to endure this fate...” he mutters, his heart as heavy as his tongue.

“Why do you care?” she asks, her voice quiet but curious.

“I loved your mother once, many moons ago, twenty years it must be by now,” he says into her hair, his own voice a deep thrum in her ears. “She left me, one day, and I made the mistake of letting her go. Maybe I pushed her to end up here, maybe she wanted to work like this... she's always been a free spirit, couldn't stay long at one place. I guess... I learned that from her.”

He feels her fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt as she slowly relaxes on his lap, leaning against him, warm and tiny and frail. “What do you mean?”

“I travel a lot,” he says simply, sudden images of tents and horses and wagons filling his mind. But also of masks and guns and blood and shouts, and comically large bags filled with money, cowering people, screaming women, the rattle of a train, the silent squeak of metal doors, splintering wood. And pictures of him, drawn, some more flattering than others, and his name printed all over them. Dead or alive.

She tilts her chin up, big eyes looking at him, her lips parted slightly, long lashes grazing pale skin. He sees her better now, in the orange glow of the fire. She looks like Keira. But she's alone, left to her own devices, forced to work a profession she was born into, that she didn't choose. “What's your name, mister?”

He frowns at her innocent question, trying to forget the Wanted posters. “Ben,” he growls, a deep thrum in his throat. “And yours?”

“Nebbia,” she replies quietly, her eyes wandering over his face, her small body molded into him, warm on his lap, pointy bones digging into his thigh, pressing on his erection. Nebbia like Neigh-bee-ah, long e, more like ehh, short i, like an e, and the little ah at the end, like a soft moan. Rolls off her tongue like honey.

“Nebbia,” he repeats, her name rumbling out of him as he tries to figure out why Keira would name her daughter this. But then a smile crosses his lips. “Fog in Italian,” he whispers and watches how she nods, the same kind of smile curving her lips. He wonders if Keira has made it over the pond, finally seeing the country she always wanted to visit. But why did she leave her kid?

Free spirits can't have children pulling them down, grounding them to the earth, binding them to one place. The poor girl... If Keira knows what happened to her? What she has to do?

Full lips around –

He clears his throat, his big hands resting on her small waist. She still looks at him, somewhat hopeful, big eyes, there's innocence in them, but also something else. A shadow in her green irises. A stain.

“Why aren't you wearing any bottoms, Nebbia?” he asks quietly, his fingers teasing at the curve of her rear.

He sees her blushing, red spots dancing over her pale cheeks. She looks away, a shy smile tugging at her lips. “I figured it'd be easier for you...”

“Easier for me?”

“I heard you were drunk, very drunk,” she whispers into his neck, her fingers fidgeting with the buttons of his shirt. “And I thought –”

He stares at her. In his mind, he can see her lips straining around a variety of cocks, but he can't see her lying on her back with her legs wide open, taking any of those wretched members into her sweet little – “Have you ever...” he starts, furrowing his eyebrows. “Am I your first? Would I be your first?”

She licks her lips, then chews on them. A nod, short and jerky. Eyes dancing over his chest. The sigh that escapes his throat is both filled with anger and relief. She is young. Inexperienced, has never learned the reason why those women in the other rooms cry out in pleasure. She (her mouth) has only been used for the pleasure of others, and that fact only spurs his anger, makes the vein on his forehead pulse.

Why did they choose her to satisfy him? Gimme your best...newest, he hears himself mumble. Newest. Freshly eighteen, huh? Just come of age, open for business. (To think this filthy little brothel has actual rules and has given her time to develop is almost absurd.) He closes his eyes for a moment, relieved it was him who found her without bottoms.

Because he knows he will not soil her innocence.

“I'm gonna take you with me,” he mutters as he closes his arms a little tighter around her, holding her safely on his lap.

“What?” she breathes, trying to look up despite his bear hug.

“I can give you a better life,” he says softly, tilting his head to meet her gaze.

“Why?” Despite her innocent tone, there's doubt in her voice. Disbelief. Why would anyone want to be nice to her?

He laughs darkly. “Because you deserve it?” One of his hands moves up, caresses her warm cheek. “Unless you actually want to keep sucking dicks.”

His lewd words make her flinch, her face flushed as she looks away, takes a sharp breath, her fingers clawing at his shirt. She shifts on his thigh, her body tense. “I... don't...” she mutters under her breath.

“Do you want to come with me?” he asks, pressing his thumb under her chin to make her look up. Her eyes are wet, glistening, her lips trembling.

“Can I?” she whispers, a tiny flicker of hope in the green pools that stare at him.

He smiles, a genuine smile that lights up his rough face, deepening the dimple on his cheek. “If you want to. I can get you out of here, no one will notice anything...” he tells her quietly, watching her closely.

There's turmoil behind her eyes, shivers running down her body, her throat moves when she swallows hard. “They'll be angry with me,” she breathes, blinking, looking away, her eyebrows furrowed. “The women...”

“You don't owe them anything,” he says, the hand on her lower back applying soft pressure, fingers playing with the laces of her corset. “They may have raised you here, but they made you do heinous things that no girl your age should do! No respectable woman without her consent...”

“And the men? Some of them come here only for me...” He stiffens at her words, imagining those sleazy men, salivating at the thought of shoving their cocks down this poor girl's throat. “I bring good money...” He scoffs at that, shaking his head.

“And how much of that do you see, hm?” he asks her, tilting her chin back up so she looks at him. She inhales deeply, avoiding his gaze once more. “Yeah, that's what I thought...”

“I have a comfortable life –”

His hand closes around her throat, long fingers pressing into her skin. She stares at him, gasps, eyes wide. “Sweetheart, you're eighteen now, you're fair game. Men will do anything to you now, fill every single hole you have!” She gasps again, cheeks flushing at his blunt words. “You might have gotten used to sucking dick, but believe me, opening your legs will be a whole other ordeal.”

She frowns at that. “Is sex really that bad?” she whispers, voice feeble, bashful, he's surprised she is able to get these words out at all.

A laugh rumbles through him as he eases his grip on her neck. “No, sex can be amazing, but with the wrong person, there can be a lot of pain and discomfort, and the consequences...” He looks at her, holds her nervous gaze. “You're so young, you deserve better than a drunken guy forcing his cock into your hole, leaving you either completely soiled and sore, or sick, or pregnant...”

She cringes and pulls a breath through her teeth, averting her eyes once more. “You talk so obscenely, mister,” she mumbles.

He breathes out another deep laugh. “It's the harsh truth, darling. That's how the world works, get used to it,” he says matter-of-factly.

“And you want me to go out into that world?” she whispers quietly.

“Trust me, out there you'll be better off than here, if you stay with the right people. I'd worry about your current world,” he mutters, listening to the noises from the other rooms, remembering, despite his haze, how run-down this building is, its clientele, and the state of the whole town.

She can't stay here. He won't leave her, now that he knows of her existence. She's Keira's kid, and unlike her mother, he will never abandon her.

Sighing deeply, he moves his hands along her body, encircling her waist, gripping her gently, before he picks her up and puts her on her feet next to the armchair. She stares at him startled, her hands immediately going down to cover her modesty. He grunts and stands up too, towering over her. She takes a cautious step back as he starts swaying, the alcohol still buzzing inside his head.

“I could really use a bath,” he growls, wiping at his eyes, trying to dispel the dizziness. The girl stands next to him, so tiny and frail, the gentle curves of her legs backlit by the fire, her soft face tilted up to look at him, her long hair cascading down her shoulders. For a moment he is mesmerized by the sight, by how naturally beautiful she is – how out of place she feels.

When he feels the strain in his jeans, he sighs again and turns away, stumbling past her towards the tub in the corner. There's already water in it, a thick layer of soapy foam even, and when he dips a few fingers into it, he notices that it's still a little warm. He can't remember it, but he must have left a good penny in this establishment, for booze, a hot bath, and the best...newest –

He turns back to her. She is still watching him, standing behind the armchair, her hands on the backrest, biting her lip. “Hey kid, you wanna join me?” he calls to her, his fingers already at the buttons of his shirt.

She inhales sharply, then walks around the armchair, her naked legs catching his eye for a moment. “I'm not a kid, mister.”

“Ben,” he corrects with a smirk, now working on undoing his belt. It creates a thud when it falls to the wooden floor, his holster and the heavy pistol pulling it down. Her eyes follow his movements as he undresses, kicks off his boots, steps out of his jeans, shrugs off his shirt. Then her feet tap over the ground as she rounds the tub and stands on the other side.

“Not a kid, Ben,” she whispers, chewing on her lips, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her blouse as she drags it lower to cover the hint of hair between her legs.

She doesn't look away once he is completely naked in front of her, his clothes, gun and bags discarded on a chair, but he can see the red in her cheeks when her eyes flick down to his hard cock, bouncing slightly when he raises a leg and steps into the tub. The semi-warm water lulls his muscles as he sinks into it with a groan, stretching his long legs, leaning back, placing his arms on the edge, before he looks up at her.

“I meant it, Nebbia,” he says softly, tilting his head. “Come join me. I promise you don't have to do anything but sit with me.”

“I... shouldn't...” she whispers, her eyes trailing over his naked chest, half-submerged in the tub, before she looks towards the door. “We're not allowed...”

“I paid for you, didn't I?” She looks back, meeting his gaze, and he smiles at her. “Technically I can do anything to you. But I just want you to enjoy a semi-hot bath. There's still enough room,” he adds and spreads his legs, creating a space between them on the other side of the tub.

She hesitates, and he wonders why. Moments ago she seemed content to give him a good time, as she has called it, but now she is strangely coy for a prostitute who's had her throat fucked countless times before. The image of her lips strained around a cock – his cock maybe? – comes back into his mind, and he has to clench his jaw tightly to fight the urge to grab her and pull her close, do all those things to her that he has warned her about. That he's promised not to do to her.

Eventually she turns around, presenting her well-formed rear to him, those plump little cheeks, well-rounded, squeezable, the cleft between them guiding his eyes between her legs, but when her hands move up to the string holding her corset, he sighs, nodding to himself when he sees her predicament. He reaches out and tugs on the bow with one finger, loosening the tight laces slowly, carefully, and she lets him do so.

The stiff thing falls down her hips once it's loose enough, and she steps out of it, slowly turning back to him as she unbuttons the rest of her blouse and shrugs it off her slender shoulders. He can't help himself, he stares at her naked form.

Keira's kid. Half his age. He's promised her a better life.

And still he can't look away, taking in every detail of her body. How her small breasts perk, nipples hard already, the gentle slope of those mounds he wants to weigh in his big hands. How her hair falls over her shoulders, soft springy waves, silky, the same color as her mother's. His eyes trail down her chest, over the shimmer of ribs under thin skin, the flat stomach and little indent of her belly button. And that small waist, the swell of her hips, soft pale legs, cushioned thighs, and between them, the hint of hair above her sex.

Her skin is pristine, pale like alabaster, unmarked, pure.

There's a blush on her face that slowly spreads down her shoulders and between her breasts, and he has to force himself to close his eyes as she steps closer and lifts a leg to step into the tub – even though he wants nothing more than to take a peek at her sweet little cunt. Unused and innocent. He has to keep it that way.

Water splashes against his stomach when she sits down opposite him, knees bent and pulled against her chest as she settles between his outstretched legs. He looks at her with a gentle smile, and she smiles back, her eyelids fluttering.

“Not bad, eh?” he laughs quietly, moving a fluff of foam towards him with his big hands, then lathers his arms with it. She just sits there on the other side of the tub, watching him.

“Do you really mean it?” she whispers after a moment of both of them just soaking in the water.

“What?” he grunts, leaning his head against the edge of the tub as he slides a little lower, using the space she's left to fully stretch his body.

“That you're going to take me with you,” she replies, her eyes scanning his face.

He sighs, his breath blowing a tuft of foam towards her. “Yes, I mean it. I won't let you stay here, objected to all these... things,” he says. “You're Keira's daughter, and even if she might not have wanted you, I will take care of you.”

She frowns, trying to ignore the sting in her heart, the flinch of her tense shoulders at his words. “But why? You don't know me! And I don't know you! Why should I go with you?”

“You wanna stay here? Rot away and die in ten years or sooner?” His voice is harsh, his eyes dark, his jaw tense. “There's no money to be made if you stay under your Madam's thumb. You'll just be another body with a bunch of holes, destined to take it all, if you want to or not. How is this a life you'd want to continue?”

She licks her lips, her arms hugging her knees tighter. “I have food and a roof above my head...” she says quietly, averting her eyes.

He scoffs. “If that's your standard, then I can assure you that you will never go hungry, always have a comfortable bed, be safe from the elements, when you come with me.”

“But why?” she asks again, finally looking back at him. “Why are you so... nice to me?” She takes a shuddering breath. “Just because I'm the kid of a love lost?”

“I thought you weren't a kid,” he teases, and she groans with a slightly exasperated smirk. “I know it's a rare thing for people to just be nice nowadays, but you can trust me. I'm a good guy,” he lies through his teeth, a glint in his eyes.

“And you expect me to believe that?” she says, shifting in the tub, extending her legs slightly, her feet brushing against his inner thighs. “I might not know how the world works, but I see the men coming here. I've seen all types. And you look like the type I might encounter on a Wanted poster.”

He raises his eyebrows, his lips twitching. “Interesting assessment, missy. And you can tell by just looking at a man's cock?”

She grunts in indignation and splashes water towards him. He laughs and shields his face with one arm. “A fine gentleman would never talk like that...” she mumbles.

His laughter gets even louder. “And you expect a fine gentleman to walk into this establishment? Do you know where you are?” She scoffs and crosses her arms in front of her chest, slowly stretching out her legs until he can feel the soles of her feet pressing right against his groin. “Careful now,” he warns.

Her cheeks are flushed, but that doesn't stop her from rubbing her foot upwards and along his hard shaft, pressing it into his lower stomach. He watches her closely, holding in a groan. And she looks right back, green eyes hard and a dark smile on her full lips. Lips around his cock. He leans back and lets out the noise he has been suppressing. Her toes curl around his tip, his breath hitches in his throat.

And he savors the moment, just a moment, a few seconds, because it feels good. She is good, doing what she does. Would be a shame to stop her now, hm? But then he leans in and lowers his hands into the water, grabbing her ankle, stopping her after all. She yelps quietly as he pulls her leg towards him, causing her to slip. Her hands squeak along the edge of the tub as she tries to hold onto it, but before her head submerges, he lets go of her, letting her leg rest on top of his thigh.

She scrambles back into a sitting position, her eyes on him, her lips parted. “I don't have a choice, do I?” she then whispers, allowing him to put his big hand on her shin, holding her there.

He smiles at her, his eyes twinkling. “Correct, sweetheart. I will force you to have a better life, no matter what,” he says quietly, rubbing his hand up her leg.

She inhales deeply and leans back, her arms resting on the edge, hands hanging off, as she relaxes in the water, under his touch, with her bare chest exposed to him. Trusting. “You're a strange man, mister... Ben,” she whispers, smiling softly as she watches him.

He grips her thigh gently, winking at her. The buzz from the alcohol is as good as gone, replaced with a different kind of vertigo. Ignoring the twitching of his cock under the water surface, he keeps his eyes on the girl in front of him, taking in her features, a strange warmth gathering in his stomach.

He came here to celebrate the successful heist, drink himself stupid and have a good fuck afterwards. He hasn't expected to meet Keira's kid here, to be this attracted to her, to tell her he wants to take her with him. But he has, is, does, all of it, he wants her by his side, wants to give her a chance at a different life, away from pleasuring strangers every night of the week.

Does he want her for himself? Maybe. But he still also genuinely wants her to be happier, be herself, have the freedom that he has. She deserves it. And he does too, selfishly so, to have her.

END NOTES: Hello and welcome to my first original work (that I share with you)! Thank you for reading!

Please note that I am no expert on anything wild west/western/horses/cowboys/brothels/etc. - I write silly little love/smut stories. This story, even though it's not mentioned, is set at the end of the 1800s somewhere in the west, I'm keeping it vague on purpose, this is about Ben and Nebbia.

Picture credits to their respective owners. I don't own anything. I gathered these from all around the Internet. If you see your picture and would like to have it removed, please tell me!

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