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thebeast-dennis-etcetera · 1 month

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Training Part 1

Prompt: Enemies to Lovers type. You and Gibbs never got along, and luckily you never really had to work with each other…until now.

Part 2

You followed behind Agent Fornell as the both of you stepped out of the elevator and into the squad room of NCIS.

You spotted the 3 familiar agents standing in front of the plasma, speaking amongst each other until DiNozzo spoke.

“Trouble on your 6 boss.”

Their supervisory agent turned towards you and Fornell, looking ready for an argument.

“You can release Ramos, we’ll take it from here Gibbs,” Fornell started.

“We’ll release him when we’re done questioning him Tobias. He has ties to our victim and has no alibi for the night of the murder.”

“He’s got nothing to do with your murder. He’s been under FBI surveillance for the last 3 months and if you compromise all of our work, both of us are gonna be on the chopping block with our Directors.”

Gibbs gave him a look that showed that he had no intention of backing down and Fornell sighed before turning to you.

“Stay here. We’ll be back.”

As Gibbs walked past you, you made sure to give him that hard stare that he always gives you every time you see each other. You met Agent Gibbs a few months ago on a joint Investigation and from day one he rubbed you the wrong way. He was stubborn, arrogant and always thought he was right. Even though he was good looking and good with a gun, you weren’t gonna let him intimidate you.

“So how’s it been, being the FBI’s lackey?” DiNozzo jested, making you roll your eyes.

“Better than you being Gibbs’ pet,” you shot right back, getting a snicker out of the Mossad agent behind you.

“You know I heard about that incident with your last case. Suspect got the jump on you. Sounds like your hand to hand combat needs a little work,” he continued.

You walked over, closing in on him, causing him to take a step back. You were at least half a foot shorter than him but judging by the unsure look on his face, your intimidation tactics were on point.

“He was 6,4” and pushing 200lbs DiNozzo. And I didn’t really do much hand to hand with him before putting two bullets in his chest. But by all means, we can put those skills to the test if you want.”

“Stop harassing my agents, Agent Y/N. If you wanna spar, you can do it with me,” you heard Gibbs’ condescending voice speak from the stairs. Looking over, you saw Fornell and him walking over and backed off of DiNozzo who chuckled nervously. You waited until he was standing in front of you to speak.

“Pick a place and time Gibbs.”

Your words held contempt and he just gave you a smirk while taking a sip of his coffee. It took everything in you not to slap it out of his hand. The rest of his agents were quiet as Fornell was smiled in the back.

“NCIS training room, 6pm.”

“I’ll be there.”

You all continued working, the case turning into a joint investigation, you making a point to avoid the Supervisory Agent as much as possible throughout the day. When lunch time came around, you and Fornell stopped by a little sandwich shop.

“So what’s your beef with Gibbs?” he asked you, taking a bite of his pastrami on rye.

“He just thinks he’s so righteous. The way he talks with people, the way he walks, everything about him screams douchebag,” you ranted, Fornell chuckling as you did.

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s just funny. Have you ever thought the reason you don’t like Gibbs is because he’s so much like you? And being the most competitive person I know, you hate having someone that matches you.”

“Don’t profile me Fornell. It’s above your pay grade.”

“See. Like that. Gibbs would’ve said something just like that. Maybe not as harsh but similar. I think you actually like him but don’t know how to deal with it. Maybe this little sparring sesh of yours will prove beneficial.”

You huffed in annoyance at his words but you he wasn’t completely delusional. It did make sense but at the same time, part of you genuinely didn’t like Gibbs.

“Are you trying to set me up with your best friend Tobias?”

He just shrugged his shoulders before stealing a fry off your barely touched plate.

“I’m not trying anything. You challenged him remember? Just one word of advice. He’s got a blind spot just outside his left eye. You use that knowledge correctly and you’ll have him on his ass. Then I can break his balls for the rest of the investigation.”

You both laughed and finished up your lunch before heading back to join NCIS.

————

You were just finished tying your shoes when you saw Gibbs come into the gym. He was wearing an old NIS shirt, some sweat shorts, and black converse. Very casual for someone about to get his ass kicked. You on the other hand, went with some black leggings, sports bra and a loose tank top.

“On the mats, let’s go,” he said in passing.

You followed him to the training mats where he placed a dummy handgun down. There were only 2 or 3 other agents in the room, minding their business with various gym equipment, seemingly none of Gibbs’ minions hanging around.

“Your objective is to not let me get ahold of that gun, understand?”

You just nodded and stood across from him, both of you an equal distance away from the gun.

“Now.”

Both of you ran for the gun, you getting there first and grabbing it. As soon as you brought it up to fake fire, Gibbs knocked it out of your hands, sending it sliding towards the other side of the mats. Before he could make his way to get it, you grabbed a hold of his neck and pulled him down in an attempt to get him to the ground but he just twisted out of it and broke free, giving him plenty of time to grab the gun and aim it at you.

“Dead,” he declared, making you roll your eyes.

“Congratulations Gibbs. Want a medal?”

Keeping a straight face, he walked over to you, eyes never leaving yours and stood a foot away, making you have to tilt your head up because of the height difference. Ok, maybe he was a little intimidating.

“I want you to stop being a brat and let me help you.”

You wanted to spit out something snarky but bit your tongue as he continued. “You’re never gonna win a hand to hand combat with someone much bigger than you based on brute force. Maneuverability and quickness are going to be your best friend.”

He took a step back and dropped the dummy gun.

“I read your file. You spent 2 years training in Judo and Jiu-Jitsu. Use those skills. Use the enemies own weight against them. For now, just try to get me to the ground for an arrest.”

You sized him up real quick, identifying his strong and weak points before attacking. You remembered what Fornell had told you earlier and decided to use it. Side stepping to Gibbs’ left side, you grabbed him by the shirt and used your leg to trip him backwards so that he fell to the floor. You wasted no time in climbing on top, getting your legs around his arm and neck before pulling in for a successful armbar. Once he tapped, you let him go and couldn’t help but wear a triumphant smile.

You went to get up but was taken off guard when you felt Gibbs push you back to the ground, grabbing your wrists and twisting them behind your back while sitting atop of your stomach and wrapping his legs around your own so you couldn’t move. You squirmed, hoping to slip free but he had you in a vice grip.

He leaned down so his face was inches from yours, both of you breathing hard from the exercise.

“Never let your guard down,” he whispered. You don’t know if you were more pissed about the fact that he got the drop on you or how turned on you were right then but you weren’t gonna let him win that easy.

He may have had a grip on your hands and legs but that didn’t stop you from pushing your chest up and bringing your head to the side of his, gently caressing his cheek with your mouth. You heard him let out a breath and loosen his grip just the slightest.

That’s all you needed.

Slipping your arms out, you used all your momentum to shift the weight, grabbing the gun that was lying inches away and pointing it at him once you were on top.

“Dead,” you declared the same as he had earlier but with more cockiness.

He chuckled and sat up, leaning back on his hands, licking his lips and looking at you with his head cocked to the side.

“With a little more practice, you could join NCIS.”

You laughed at his joke and took a second to give him a once over. His striking blue eyes, chiseled jawline and boyish grin was actually pretty attractive if you thought about it. In that moment, he didn’t seem like the typical douchebag you pegged him as and it unnerved you.

He didn’t make a move to push you off as you realized you were still straddling him and just held his stare until you looked away.

“I’ll stick with hanging with the big boys, thank you.”

You got to your feet and offered him a hand which he took. Your stomach fluttered just a little as his hands met yours to took the dummy gun from you.

“Look forward to working with you again Agent Y/N.”

You just smiled and turned to leave.

“Goodnight Agent Gibbs.”

As you left the gym, you saw his own smile appear on his lips.

#gibbs x reader #leroy jethro gibbs #ncis #ncis fanfiction #agent gibbs #mark harmon #ncis request #jethro gibbs x reader #ncis imagine #jethro gibbs fanfiction

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sokkigarden · 10 months

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dancing with our hands tied (part i)

jamie tartt x female reader // nsfw 18+ // enemies to lovers // fwb

masterlist // read on ao3

summary: wearing the jersey of your self-proclaimed enemy wasn't supposed to go like this.

word count: 2.8k

decided to post this fic to tumblr! not sure if i will be doing a taglist, but i will be tagging each part with jamie tartt x reader + jamie tartt smut so if you are following those tags religiously (like me) then you can find it lol. its also on ao3 and will likely get updated there first if you'd like to subscribe that way. big shoutout to @whimsical-roasting for drafting this in our dms in a haze one night LMAO i would not have been able to write this without her<3333

༻✧✧✧༺

“No no no, there is no way I’m wearing that.”

Opposite of you, your best friend, Laney, stood with two Richmond jerseys in her hands. One said ‘Tartt’ across the back, the other, ‘McAdoo,’ but you already knew which one she wanted to wear. She had a raging crush on Isaac, so that left only one option for you.

And there was no way you were wearing Jamie Tartt’s fucking jersey.

You would never hear the end of it. As part of the team’s physio team, you had a good rapport with most of the players. You complimented them when they had a good match and joked around while working with them through their physical therapy treatments.

You had a decent working relationship with everyone on the team.

Everyone except for Jamie Tartt.

There was no question that since his return to Richmond, he had become a changed man, but his past words had left a lingering resentment. You didn’t think you were in the wrong to simply avoid interacting with the man. He hadn’t often been seen in the treatment room, and when he had, you typically passed off his treatment to another member of the team, along with some flimsy excuse for why you couldn’t do it.

But recently, as he trained more with Coach Kent outside of the dog track, he’d needed additional treatment. And as the new lead of the physio team, you were in charge of his treatment plan.

In recent months, especially since working more closely with him, he’d started to notice the difference in behavior from you, leading to all sorts of jests and confrontations. Now, it seemed like he just got a kick out of teasing and inevitably pissing you off. You couldn’t help but fire some scathing shots back. What started out as a simple plan of avoidance had clearly backfired.

Now everytime he needed assistance with muscle cramps or pain medication, you got a conversation full of sarcasm and questions. It almost felt like sometimes he came in just to rile you up.

Just last week, Jamie came in to check on his ankle after a bad landing at training. You examined his leg and he made comments the entire time you had your hands on him.

“You know, I get waxed. Weekly. Everywhere.”

You had stumbled ever so slightly as you’d gone to grab an ice pack. You cringed inwardly, knowing this would only add more fuel to Jamie’s fire. You were tired of him getting the best of you, making you flustered. You wanted to fight back.

Turning back to him with the ice pack, you stared at him directly.

“Show me,” you challenged.

Jamie’s face held an incredulous expression.

“You mentioned it— you clearly want to,” you reasoned, shrugging your shoulders, “So show me.”

You hoped your confidence in calling his bluff worked in your favor, and his face showed that he was clearly surprised by this turn of events. You couldn’t tell what he would do next. He rolled his eyes with that smug smirk on his face before he raised his eyebrows and lifted his shirt up.

Sure enough, his chest was bare, showing off his sculpted muscles.

Jamie leisurely lounged across the treatment table, chest exposed, and you would be lying if you said your mouth didn’t water a little bit at the sight. Even after being around athletes on a daily basis, there was something about Jamie that just— hit different. His cockiness was surely annoying, but it was also incredibly arousing, as much as you hated to admit it. You felt a squeeze in your chest but you bit your tongue to keep yourself in line. There was no way that thought would ever bear fruit.

You shoved the ice pack into his lap, making sure some of it landed on the bare skin of his stomach, watching as he flinched a little bit at the abrupt action and cold temperature of the pack.

“Ice your ankle for twenty minutes, then stay off it the rest of the day,” you informed him, acting like the last few moments hadn’t happened. “You’ll be good to train tomorrow.”

Jamie scoffed at your indifference. He grasped the ice pack fully and let his shirt slide back down.

“Sure, love, I’ll do that.”

He knew you hated it when he called you by a pet name. That only made him use them more. You glanced back at him, staring into his eyes for a moment before you grabbed your bag.

The tension in the room was palpable before you’d headed out to check on the rest of the players at training. You hadn’t said anything else as you’d left.

So, yeah. There was no way Jamie Tartt would ever let you hear the end of it if you showed up in his jersey number.

“Oh, come on!” Laney pleaded. “I don’t want to wear a jersey alone.”

“Plenty of people do!”

“Yeah, but plenty of people don’t get to go behind the scenes and actually speak to the players,” she gushed. “I don’t want to meet them and look stupid all alone.”

“So instead, you want me to look stupid with you,” you gave her a flat look.

She smiled mischievously. “What? I thought it would be funny. You complain about him all the time.”

If only she fully comprehended the validity behind your complaints.

You knew there was no way you were ever going to win this fight, so you slipped on the jersey and braced for impact. You were happy to have Laney come along to a game, especially since you didn’t always attend matches and her being a big Richmond fan gave you an excuse to watch. You wanted today to be good, not just for you, but for her too. It was exciting to be able to take your best friend on a little ‘backstage’ tour during gameday.

You hoped today would be good, and that you wouldn’t have any run-ins with the man who made your blood boil.

Alas, not even twenty minutes later, as you walked into the back of the Nelson Road stadium through the employee entrance, you promptly ran into none other than Jamie Tartt.

“Well well well, I didn’t realize someone was such a big fan,” the familiar Mancunian accent taunted behind you.

You tried not to visibly cringe as you turned around to face Jamie. He was not yet in his kit, still wearing his street clothes: a monochrome denim set. It was frankly unfair how well the jeans fit him, but you refused to let your gaze linger for more than a few seconds.

“Oh my, it's the infamous Jamie Tartt,” Laney greeted him playfully. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Your jaw clenched at her words as she reached out to shake his hand. He eagerly accepted.

“Have you?” he asked with a mischievous look in your direction that made you roll your eyes.

Laney nodded emphatically. “She talks about you all the time.”

You nudged her shoulder to get her to stop talking but she just looked at you innocently. She knew exactly what she was doing, and it seemed like Jamie did too.

“Oh, does she?” Jamie questioned.

He was eating this up. His face was smug and you were sure this would haunt you for weeks to come.

“Laney, why don’t you go get some snacks? Shouldn’t be a line since we are here a bit early. I’ve got to talk to Jamie before the match,” you said. “I’ll meet you at our seats?”

You smiled sweetly at her, but underneath the nice layer, you knew your eyes held an anger that had her quickly waving goodbye and scurrying off. You were more than happy to have her accompany you to a match, but this entire interaction was reminding you of why you hadn’t invited her sooner.

For a moment, you just stared at him. It was hard to look him directly in the eye sometimes. Despite the headstrong front you kept up, you weren’t used to dealing with such interactions. You weren't stupid, you knew that this dance you two engaged in fell close to flirting (at least that’s what Laney said), and when you looked directly at him, you remembered just how fucking hot he was.

It wasn't just his physical attributes. Sure, he was in excellent physical shape, and his hair looked particularly perfect ever since he started going a bit blond, and his lips were always in a little pout, just begging to be kissed. But it was also a little more than that. Seeing him step up to lead as they began Total Football, working as a team player while also getting in extra workouts to be the best he could be. You weren't blind. You could see his internal changes on the outside, somehow. He didn't seem as cold. He didn't seem as distant and prickish. Jamie’s change in demeanor changed how everyone saw him including himself.

And he seemed to look even hotter than he used to.

Was it possible for someone to just keep getting more and more attractive?

It was part of the reason he drove you up the wall. How did he so perfectly remain just a little bit of a prick while also being a better person? And why did he have to look so pretty while doing it?

More and more people were making their way through the hallway as the dog track got ready for the match, and Jamie still stood in the middle, with an innocent, questioning look directed towards you.

You huffed before you grabbed his arm and shoved him into the treatment room. Even if he was acting oblivious to spectators, you didn’t want to put on a show when you once again ripped him a new one.

His face was still prickish as you turned to look at him. He was clearly enjoying this much more than you were.

“So you talk about me when I ain’t around, love?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

“No, I don’t,” you said firmly. “And don’t call me ‘love.’”

He pursed his lips, “Seems like you do… love.”

He smiled cheekily at you and it took everything in you not to roll your eyes at him. Instead, you crossed your arms and put on what you hoped was your most serious face.

“I talk about everybody,” you defended, but he clearly wasn’t listening.

“Hmmm, and what do you say about me?” Jamie scratched his chin to mock being in deep concentration.

“Mostly, I tell people you’re a pain in my ass.”

The statement seemed to shock Jamie out of his act and he narrowed his eyes at you. You knew it wasn’t the best idea to have a sparring match with a footballer right before a game. They were pent up with nerves and adrenaline as they prepared.

After a moment of no response, you expected the conversation to be over and began to move toward the door, when he finally spoke up.

“Bend over, I’ll show you a pain in the ass.”

Now you’re the one who’s speechless. You let out a breathless laugh of shock, before rolling your eyes. You continued on your way to the door, moving to leave him in the room alone. Just as you go past him, he playfully smacks your ass. Before you have a chance to even choose your reaction, you let out what can only be described as a whimper mixed with a moan.

You whirl around to look at him, and you both seem to be shocked by the noise. You can tell your face is burning with embarrassment as you stare at each other in a momentary state of shock.

He recovers first, letting out a breath of a laugh. A smirk dances across his face.

“Liked that, did you?” he taunted.

You clearly didn’t recover as quickly, your reply coming out weaker than you’d like. “Shut up, Tartt.”

He stepped a little closer to you, and you stepped back instinctively, before you ran into the table set up next to the door.

“I liked hearin’ it,” he said, his voice coming out like a rough whisper.

It all happened so fast. One moment you were barely processing how close the two of you were. Making direct eye contact, breathing the same air. In the next moment, you had spun around, shoving your own pants down around your knees as you heard him unzipping his jeans. He gripped your waist as he spanked you again, and you didn’t even try to suppress the moan that left your lips.

He slid his dick in easily, and you were surprised at how wet you’d become from simply arguing with the man. He held you against his chest as he thrust into you, pressing a messy kiss to your neck, sucking slightly. Part of you was worried about him leaving a mark, but the thought was pushed to the back of your mind as he continued his journey along your neck. He raised your knee higher to rest against the table for a better position, and you groaned in unison as he thrust deeper inside you. You let your head fall back against his shoulder, leaning against him.

“You wanted this real bad, huh, angel?” he asked.

You nearly wept at the pet name. You made a noise of protest, but your voice came out near breathless from the intensity of it all. You felt like your knees would buckle from the sensation, so you gripped the table in an attempt to not fall.

“Fuck you— you wanted it more,” you defended, but just as you spoke, he hit deep inside you and left the end of your sentence turning to mush as you moaned.

The table wasn’t enough to grab onto, so you reached back and started to grip the strands of his hair. He groaned directly into your ear, and you felt your knees nearly give out entirely.

“Damn, you look so pretty with my name on your back and my dick inside you,” he mumbled as he ran his hand up to grip at your throat. The action wasn’t gentle, but the pressure was perfect.

You’d almost forgotten you were wearing his name across the back of your jersey. Of course he would think it was hot.

It surprised you when you realized you found it kind of hot too.

“Don’t get used to it,” you warned, “This isn’t happening again.”

Your harsh words felt like they had no meaning as you bucked against him. His own hips rose up to meet your own. Truth be told, you were getting your shit rocked and were already wondering when you could fuck him again. You felt your brain short circuiting. Your breaths were shallow as he moved his hand up to your mouth.

You bit his hand out of frustration, making him hiss and thrust his hips faster. He shoved his fingers into your mouth and you sucked instinctively, causing him to whine.

“Jamie,” you gasped around his fingers, “I-I’m close.”

“Me too, love,” he panted in reply. You didn’t have it in you to correct him over the pet name, overcome with the sensations coursing through your body.

He removed his fingers from your mouth and snaked his hand down your body to find your clit, adding extra pressure. He knows just the right way to move his fingers that has you falling apart in mere moments.

When you come, he turns your head to plant a wet, sloppy kiss on your lips as you both find your release. You find yourself kissing him back intensely, chasing his lips once he finally pulls away.

Your knees are weak at this point, fully leaning against him for support once he finally slips out of you and pulls his jeans back up. Before he has a chance to say anything between breaths, you reach for a towel off the shelves above you and clean yourself off.

You’re still out of breath as you finally look over at him. His face is shiny with sweat and you fear you look the same. You’ll have to stop by the restroom before you meet back up with Laney.

Laney.

The thought of your friend has you glancing at the clock on the wall, cursing yourself. Everything starts to come into clear view, and you wonder how you let things go this far. You just fucked Jamie Tartt. How the hell did that just happen?

You press your lips in a firm line. You try to keep your hands from visibly shaking.

“This is never happening again,” you tell him again, as you reach for the door handle to exit.

As you open the door, Jamie scoffs.

“Sure, love,” he says, sauntering through the door that you opened, “I’ll see you after the match.”

He leaves you with a wink before heading off to get ready for the match. If you thought he would be unbearable about the jersey, you had just made the entire situation so much worse.

You weren’t sure how long you stood in the treatment room before you finally left as well.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt smut #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt enemies to lovers #ted lasso fic #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso imagine #my works #dwoht fic

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milequaritchsslut · 10 months

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okay okay but hear me out!! miguelohara x jennifersbody!reader,,, odd concept I KNOW but its hot to think about…

I’ve never watched Jennifer’s body—but I get the jest of it

Warnings: Biting, blood, cannibalism, tied hands, subby Miguel, passing out, bloodlust, mentions of bones, fear, fangs

I’ve never wrote for cannibalism before! But I tried my best so bare with me

‘Shhhh—everything’s gonna be just fine baby’ you cooed reassuringly, your bloodlust couldn’t have been higher. He just looked so good, all tied up—and helpless with his puppy dog eyes looking up at you.

‘Y/n w-what are you doing??’ He asked, legs rubbing together form uneasiness as your fangs poked out from your devilish smile.

‘Just a little bite…’ you thought to yourself, you pushed his head to the side to get a good look at his soft skin of his neck. God did he look good—there was a thin layer of sweat covering his body from fear. It just made him look so much better—you loved him dearly but you just couldn’t help yourself. You dove in right away—teeth sinking into his skin as a loud yelp fell from his lips. He squirmed and whined as you took a large bite from his skin, blooding pouring out of his body as you pulled back slowly.

God did he taste good—irony and sweet is what was felt on your tongue. You admired the picture in front of you—his shoulder bone poking out of his body now from how deep you bit. His eyes were squeezed shut as tears streamed down his plush cheeks—you almost felt bad, but you couldn’t help yourself.

Blood dripped down your chin and onto the white silk bedsheets. Your tongue licked around your mouth and on your lips, savoring the sweet taste of your boyfriends flesh. You thoughtfully chewed his skin and flesh inside your mouth, remembering the feeling and flavor of his sweet meat.

He looked up at you with pure fear and horror, what the fuck were you? He helplessly pulled and tugged on his restraints but it was completely useless—you made them too tight and strong. He let out a loud sob as the tears flooded his vision of you—he soon felt dizzy. The room was spinning and trembling the more he tried to focus his vision—and soon he passed out. Head thrown back on the bed frame and eyes falling shut as you watched him.

‘I love you miggy’

Taglist: @jennieskimichi @addictiontowardstheinternet @rawegggohan @raaaaainn @horror-cassettes @adrunkskeletonsduck @nejirehh @222a1yssa @beiroviski @lana-4life @ladyfairenvale @emmalandry @a-trash-person

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kenphobia · 1 year

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HEART STUTTER!

"you're the absolute most."

summary. wally headcanons with a gender-neutral who isn't good at talking, uses vague wording and confuses smiliar sounding words with each other. ( headcanons / rewritten / see end notes)

contents. fluff i think. possibly ooc too. barnaby teasing the heck out of wally. take the L, wallace, take it.

✦ Wally finds it oddly charming, for some inexplicable reason. He tries his best to understand you and somehow he knows what you're trying to say better than you could. He does let you explain for yourself, but once you turn to him with those pitiful eyes of yours, he couldn't help but finish your words for you.

✦ In some way, Wally understands how you feel. He is a charming little puppet but even so, he slurs his speech a lot which at times make him sound drunk and inaudible.

✦ Whenever you misuse and confuse words, Wally will use context clues to figure out what you're saying. To him, it's like a little puzzle game and he enjoys it very much. He does wonder how you can say typos out loud, concerning but he eats with his eyes so he can't complain.

✦ He'll always reassure you that your speech is fine and that you can take your time figuring what to say. You look better smiling than with your brows creased like that, so cheer up!

✦ Out of all of the neighbors, he understands you the most. You could refer to food as "Biting things" and he'll fetch some for you instantly, he makes a few mistakes at times and he apologizes deeply. Wally doesn't like making assumptions, especially if those assumptions makes you upset at yourself.

✦ Wally could pick up your vague wording the more he spends time with you. He wouldn't notice it until Barnaby mention it.

"And so, (Name) and I went to fetch the things from Poppy's place before coming to meet you all here." Wally vaguely gestured to the food laid on the picnic blanket underneath them, his eyes drifting you chatting and helping Julie fly her kite.

The larger puppet nodded his head, smiling almost teasingly. Wally quirked a brow at Barnaby's sudden weird attitude.

"Is there a problem, Barnaby?" Wally questioned.

"Oh no, it's nothing." Barnaby shrugged, taking his tobacco pipe from his mouth and into his large paw. He glanced over to you and Julie before turning back to Wally. "So, you and (Name), huh?"

"... Yes, we are an item, Barnaby. Is there something wrong?"

"Nope! It's just that you're so in love with them that you're already copying them." Barnaby chuckled. He took a breath in and blew out from his pipe.

"I'm—" Wally paused, his brows furrowed. "I don't think I follow what you mean, Barnaby. I do love them, in fact I am madly captivated by them, but I don't think I'd be so inclined to do the same things as they do."

"Oh yeah?" Wally raised a jesting brow. "Then, tell me what you were doing before the picnic." He gestured to the picnic set before the two of them.

"Well, that's easy!" Wally clapped his hands joyfully. "I woke up, finished some evenings, no, paintings! Yes, those things. Then, um, I met up with you all to talk about things and after cat— that! I went with (Name) to get the stuff from Poppy's and— Oh good lord."

Barnaby letted out a roaring of laughter and patted Wally's back. "You see what I mean now?"

Wally nodded silently, dumbfounded by how oblivious he was towards his speech. He was usually self-aware, watchful and cautious about the way he acts yet he managed you fumble over his words. Right in front of his best friend too.

"I guess they got your tongue tied?"

"Barnaby, kindly shut up for once."

author's note. i amr ushing, I am RUSHING!!!! this was requested by @ssvv-cc but i accidentally answered their ask with the wrong contents and i deleted it so um terribly sorry :')) i might upload the last one but for now, let me cry in shame

again, my requests are always open. do note that im not a welcome home writer but i do writer many other things <33 /nm

#writing log!#welcome home #welcome home x reader #wally darling x reader

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written-in-flowers · 2 years

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After Tonight...(AemondxReader)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x plussize!reader

Genre: Smut, fluff, childhood friends to lovers,

Word Count: 4k

Warnings! :oral sex (m and f receiving/giving), fingering, gagging, slight choking, creampie, roleplay(?), multiple orgasms.

Summary: After a false compliment reignites tensions, you confront your husband about his actions. He confronts you about something else.

A/N: finally, a fic of my own design! Lol, it’s really just smut tbh. Hope you guys like it, and feedback’s always appreciated <3

****

“How could you say something like that? In front of those people? Are you mad?”

You rounded on him the moment you sent your servants away. Aemond stood on the other side of the room, pouring himself a cup of wine and taking a drink. You wanted to smack it from his hand. You took in your husband’s cool and collected demeanor from across the room. Long silver hair tossed back over his shoulders, a glint of amusement in his single pale blue eye made you even more upset.

“Is this amusing to you?” you asked, glaring at him. “Do you find it amusing that you’ve broken any form of peace we might’ve had with-”

“-Oh, what peace, Y/N? Those people have no desire for peace with us,” he said, continuing to drink and not looking at you. “Did you see their faces?” he asked in a chuckle, malice glinting in his eye. “Hilarious.”

“It was not hilarious,” you retorted. “Your father asked for all of us to sup together and make amends. It’s the only way to stop all this infighting and squabbling. Rhaenyra will be queen someday whether you like it or not. Your father named her heir to the throne. I think it’d be best if we started meding bonds with her instead of burning them, before she decides-”

“-My father named her heir before he had Aegon,” he replied coolly, standing by the table, firm and still with his feet apart. “He didn’t think he'd remarry until he married my mother. He had no choice. The realm forced his hand, so he named her his heir. Then he had Aegon, and Aegon should’ve become his rightful heir. Her and her Strong boys have taken that from us.”

‘Strong boys’. The two words that ignited the kindling fires beneath the table. You scoffed, shaking your head, “Do not pretend as if that is what made you act, Aemond,” you snorted. “All because the boy laughed in your direction?” you saw his pointed avoidance of your gaze. “Luke wasn’t laughing at you, Aemond. He was laughing at the pig.”

“No, he was laughing at you.” You heard the growl in your husband’s voice. “That little bitch Rhaena muttered something to him, looked at you, and laughed. I won’t tolerate it.”

You should’ve expected as much. Many boys at court poked fun at you for your size. You’d always had your wide hips, thick thighs, fatty arms and stomach since you were small. Your mother thought sending you to court might curb your appetite, but anxiousness made you eat more. You’ve tried. You honestly had, if not for yourself then for Aemond. Tough, strong, intimidating warriors like him should have pretty, slim wives who light up rooms with their smiles and are the envy of everyone at court. He never cared what other people said; you tried feeling the same, yet the creeping sensation that you simply weren’t enough came. Prince Aemond Targaryen could have his pick of any woman in Westeros, but, instead he married you. The girl Aegon, Jace and little Luke made jokes about behind her back. You pushed aside these feelings, poured your own wine and forced yourself to swallow it.

“The jests of a boy mean nothing to me.” You hesitated, brief flashes of memories coming to you.

You recalled the roasted pig the servants placed in front of you both. Yes, how witty. So witty. You rolled your eyes. It reminded you of the Pink Dread they’d presented Aemond with in their youth. A large pig they’d gotten from the pen with dragons wings tied to its sides, Aemond told you about it during a walk you took together. He’d initially had trouble taming a dragon to bond with. All the Targaryens ride dragons, and your husband suffered teasing and bullying for not having his own. You supposed the Pink Dread coupled with being betrothed to you caused double the damage.

A sinking feeling came through your chest as the realization came. How must it feel for you? Jace and Luke only laughed whenever Aegon made snide comments about you. They’d done worse to Aemond. They’d blinded him. You couldn’t imagine the pain it must’ve brought him seeing them again after so many years. Instant guilt filled your stomach, taking up any room your wine might’ve filled.

“I’m sorry, my love,” you said, looking into your cup. “I can’t imagine how you must be feeling. After all the cruel jokes and then what happened with your eye…” you shook your head, “I’m being so selfish.”

You felt his eyes on you as you looked away from him. People often stared at Aemond when he walked into rooms. They saw him as a sort of monster, to be feared and never approached. So, he played into that. He became a fierce warrior and battle tactician. You knew he overheard the men in the training yard: “Aemond would’ve made a great fighter, but that eye’s gonna work against him”. He hated the stares. He hated the whispers. You worried that dinner would set him off, but you’d insisted you both attend. You’d seen him grinding his teeth, and staring daggers into the two boys in front of him. Gentle squeezes of his hand, and reassurances did nothing to calm your husband’s simmering anger. He never forgave easily, and he never forgot a slight whether real or imagined.

“I’m sorry I pushed you to go to dinner,” you said. “I knew it’d be difficult for you, but it’s the last supper we might ever have with your father, and I knew it’d make him happy to have you there. I should’ve suggested we leave or use one of the children as a reason to-”

“-I’m not upset we went. I’m glad. You have nothing to apologize for, Wife.”

‘Wife’. The word still held sway over you six years and two children later.

“You look beautiful tonight,” he told you, softness and love behind his words. You heard him step over to you, stopping until he was inches away from you. “This dress…” you felt warm hands start at your hips and slide up your sides, kneading at the rolls there, “Did you mean to tempt me with it?”

A slight warmth came to your cheeks. You’d worn a dress of dark blue-green silk with gold embroidered birds, flowers and vines along the seams. You admitted it was a bit lower cut than you’d originally intended. Your bosom pushed against the neckline, but you managed to not let it spill over. Sitting on his good eye’s side, he would’ve seen you perfectly. You’d tied up your hair with the silver comb Aemond gifted you for your nameday. It matched the sapphire he wore in place of his missing eye. He said he liked it when your jewels matched his. Had you worn it hoping it’d stir desire in your husband? Yes. Always. You hoped in vain it might distract him from any rash actions he might make.

“You know how much I love this gown,” you said innocently. “It’s one of my favorites.”

“Or,” he brushed his lips against your ear, “You wanted me to rip it from you and ravage you as I do whenever you wear it…”

You giggled, but simply stayed in his arms as he began kissing at your neck. Nimble fingers deftly untied your dress. “You better hope your father doesn’t hear what you said tonight,” you said, knowing he wasn’t really listening, “He’ll be so upset.”

“I only paid them a compliment,” he replied, pushing your sleeves down your arms. “It’s not my fault if they think they’re not strong.”

“That is not what you meant, and you know it,” you accused.

“It is no secret what they are,” he said. “You’ve seen them.”

Yes, you have seen them. Jacaryes and Luceryes should’ve had the dark skin of their Velaryon father or the coloring of their silver-haired Targaryen mother. Instead, the two princes had brown hair and dark eyes; much like that of Harwin Strong, the former commander of the city watch. The sworn sword and champion of Princess Rhaenyra. But, nobody dared to say it out loud; it was an act of treason. For your husband to say it, even laced in a false compliment, soured things quickly. You had no real love for their family, but you’d promised your mother-in-law you’d keep things civil. You congratulated Rhaena and Baela on their betrothals to Jace and Luke. You asked Jace how his Valryian lessons were coming along, and asked Baela about going on at Driftmark. You wanted to be friends with them, putting aside the bitter memories of your youth.

Once your dress fell at your feet, Aemond worked on the lacings of your undergarments. The thin layer of cloth kept Aemond’s hands from your delicate skin. You could feel every digit caressing your body, molding it and pressing on points he knew made you gasp. You turned to face him, staring into his face and seeing the lust in his eyes. Carefully, you cupped his cheek. Your thumb grazed over the scar peeking out from his eyepatch. He only wore it when at court, to not disturb the other ladies who might be more squeamish. It never bothered you. You lifted his eyepatch off. He flinched for a brief moment, but a gentle touch of your hand calmed him. In the eye socket where a pale blue eye should be, was a dark sapphire. The jeweler who’d made it rounded it to resemble an eye, but Aemond asked for it to remain its natural color.

“I remember thinking you’d die,” you huffed a laugh. “The wound was so terrible and bled so much.”

“It wasn’t so bad,” he said. “I got Vhagar in return.” He paused, “I got you.”

Heat came around your neck and cheeks again, bringing on a smile. You remember the moment vividly. The morning after his injury he'd come to your quarters at Driftmark. Unannounced, uninvited, the prince stood in your chambers, pale and silver with determination on his face. Claiming his own dragon brought out a fire in him that never went out. You recalled studying him there. You’d gotten wounds of your own, little scratches and cuts, but nothing compared to his pain. The stark contrast of the stitched wound on his ivory skin was more shocking in the morning light. You somewhat liked the effect.

‘My prince, you should be resting.’

‘There is something I wanted to tell you, my lady, before we depart home.’

‘What is it?’

“An absurd thing for a twelve-year-old boy to say,” you said softly, unbuckling his belt from his waist. You unbuttoned his doublet and lifted it off him. “‘I have my dragon’,” you quoted, “‘Now, I want my wife.’ I believe that is what you said.”

“And I got you,” he said, pecking your lips. “I told my mother I would never want another girl. No girl would do for me what you did that night.”

“Blatantly lie to the king about what happened in the tunnel?”

“No…defend me.”

You did recall tearing Rhaena off Aemond as she and the others began hitting him. The both of you tussled around on the ground, pulling at each other’s hair and scratching each other’s faces. You’d never fought before, but your weight and size certainly worked in your favor. Her sister eventually joined the fray, pulling you off to punch at you, but the three of you stopped once Jace pulled out his blade.

“I never thought I’d have anyone on my side,” he said, “But you were there. You always are. You tore at them. You hit them. You made them pay, in what little way you could. Then you told my father they attacked us. You defended me.”

“And I’d do it again, if I had to.”

Sliding his hand on the nape of your neck, he brought you to his lips. The taste of the vintage wine lingered on both your tongues, sweetening the already heated kiss. You untied the fastenings of his clothes, removing them piece by piece until nothing separated you. His hard body stoked a fire inside you. You ran your hands down his chest to his stomach, finally landing just above his cock. A low rumble from his chest beckoned you to keep going as he pressed himself to you. Warm, with the faint smell of violets lingering on his skin from his clothes, you fell further into your bliss as his hands slipped down your waist to your backside. Plump and soft, his hands kneaded them so that you whimpered against his lips.

“I liked it,” you said between kisses, running your hand over his member and feeling it twitch on your palm.

“Liked what?” he asked. He brought one hand up to your breast, palming it and squeezing gently.

You broke your lips from his, licking his bottom lip, “Watching you mock them. I liked seeing their eyes flicker with fear when you stood up, staring them down with that hard look of yours.” You grabbed his shaft just to hear him grunt, “Being the strong, clever, slightly intimidating man you’ve become. I’ll admit,” you slowly began pumping him, watching his head roll back, “It aroused me for a moment.”

“I know,” he smirked, eyes still closed. “I know it isn’t by chance that you end up in the training yard some mornings.”

“I quite enjoy watching you fight. I always have. I love my strong,” you pecked at his neck, “Handsome,” you pecked the other side, “Clever husband who fucks me like a whore and treats me like a queen.”

“Which would you like tonight?” he suddenly grabbed your hair and yanked it, “A whore or a queen?”

“You’re a smart man,” you brought him over to the bed and straddled a corner, “You figure it out.”

His cock at level with you, you carefully lifted it to your mouth and slid your tongue underneath. Aemond did not respond with anything except a soft sigh. You kept your eyes on him as you licked him from base to tip, and then back down. Veins pump blood into his member, which pulsates against the flat of your tongue each time you traced over them. Blond hair curtaining his face, the shade darkened his features leaving his sapphire eye standing out more. You didn’t focus on it. You focused on the pink, bulbous tip that gradually turned red when you swirl your tongue around it. By the time you slid him into your mouth, moaning softly, Aemond’s hands already grasped your hair. He did not force you down immediately; he let you start the pace, enjoying your lips sucking his throbbing cock. Hands grasping his muscled thighs, you kept yourself steady while you slid him towards your throat.

You only ever told one person where you learned the intimate art of love making. It was considered unbecoming and inappropriate for a noble lady to wander into a brothel disguised as a street urchin to watch the women there pleasure their customers. You never let yourself be touched, yet you’d observed at a hefty price. Aemond nearly choked on his wine when you revealed it to him on your wedding night. Yet, he quickly got over his shock when you laid him back and let you show him what you learned. You never fully mastered taking it to the back of your throat like some women did, but Aemond never pressed you. He stood there and let you practice on him sometimes after training or dinner. He gave a low groan when his tip pressed there, the groan mixing with your soft choking each time you did it. You massaged your thumbs into his inner thighs, close to his ballsack; his hips pushed into your face slightly at the new sensation. The longer you went on, the needier your husband became. Soon, he fisted your hair to keep you still so he stuck himself further into your throat. You let him guide you along his considerable length, your own sex beginning to ache for his touch. He saw you start to slip your hand between your thighs before he snatched it by the wrist. Without a word, he took both your wrists and held them at his sides to bring you forward.

“The only person,” he grunted, “Who touches your cunt is me.”

His words made your clit throb again. You slowly grind your hips into the bed, which he seemed to allow so you could whimper around his cock. You imagined him throwing you onto the bed, forcing your legs apart and taking you however he wanted. The strength and formidable aura he oozed at the dinner table came back to you. How he’d stared coldly at Jace when he stood up at the table, angry with Aegon for his crude comments to Baela. How he sparred with Ser Cole earlier in the day, moving quick and precise in each maneuver. You wished to feel him everywhere. You wanted to feel the hard muscles and lines of his body; feel his heart beating faster while you rode him. You tried saying his name with your mouth full, a thing you knew he enjoyed. He laughed when he heard your muffled words.

“I’m sorry,” he said, laughing in his tone, “What was that?” You pleaded his name again, rocking your hips more and more for some form of friction. “Is there something you need?”

He slid himself far enough that his tip laid on your tongue still, and you said, “Your tongue, my prince. Your tongue,” you licked the underside, “Your fingers, your cock. Please, Your Grace.”

“Hm, I don’t know,” he said, releasing your hands and taking hold of himself. You stuck out your tongue for him to rub overt, tapping his tip there before you sucked on it. “I quite like it this way. You look so pretty drooling and begging me for more…like a filthy whore who can’t seem,” he plunged back into your mouth, “To get enough.”

You moaned with him this time, continuing to rub yourself on the corner of the bed as he kept a slow pace. The light brushes of the soft sheets against your aching sex felt torturous. The right spot refused to be touched, so the same teasing feeling came each time. Eventually, seeing streams of drool and precum follow, Aemond withdrew from you fully and pushed you onto your back.

“Which part did you aim to please, slut?” he asked, the slur dripping from his lips with seduction. He trailed two long fingers down your belly to the top of your mound. You flinched feeling them trail circles down to the crevasse of your folds. “Was it here?” he traced them lightly over the slit of your cunt, dipping his finger only to graze over the hood of your clit. “Perhaps underneath then?” he brushed it back up underneath the hard nub, making you tremble. He chuckled darkly at your response and continued doing it with his thumb. You gripped the sheets under you as his thumb then slid over your clit, “But what about right here? It seems to please you the most.”

“Do not act as if you don’t know…A-Aemond…” you breathed, the slow movements driving you crazy.

“I only wish to educate myself on what pleases my whore the most,” he began making soft trails of kisses down your inner thighs, “Well enough that she’ll never want another.”

The wetness that leaked from you made his thumb’s movements slicker. He did careful circles around your sex, sometimes sliding towards your entrance before coming back up. He knew exactly what made your toes curl, and had you longing for him. A drastic difference from your wedding night. You brought one of his hands to your breasts for him to fondle while Aemond buried his face between your thighs. He worked his tongue in languid laps against your open folds while his fingers pinched your nipple hard. The slight tingle of pain made you raise your hips to his tongue again.

You yelped in surprise when he slid both fingers inside your cunt, dragging them along the walls in a soft, delicate pace. He kept licking your sensitive nub with the tip of his tongue while he focused on the fingers inside you. The sensations coupled together were too much to bear.

"Aemond…Aemond…" you muttered his name, the tension inside you building tighter and tighter.

"I know," he mumbled, kissing up your thighs, his thumb replacing his tongue's movements. "Let go for me."

Your body immediately obeyed. His fingers kept the same gentle speed as your walls squeezed them. You reached down to grab his wrist, keeping it in place for more. Smirking, Aemond let his fingers wiggle against the most sensitive of spots. You saw stars when you closed your eyes. Your body might've burst into a thousand and one pieces with every shuddering wave.

He didn't give you a single second. Pushing you further up the bed, Aemond forced your legs further apart and slipped into you. Hands pinning down your wrists, his lips found yours as he started rocking into you. Your juices still on his lips and tongue, you licked them clean. You pussy throbbed from being stimulated again, but you could not let go. You didn't want him to stop. You'd needed him all night.

"Such a good whore," he jeered, starting to slam his hips into yours, "Laying here like a good girl and letting me take it how I want."

"Only for you, Your Grace. Only…for…"

He knelt up, and you saw the sheer size of him. Long limbed, you gazed on the pale sculpted figure above you. Silver hair falling around him, dark sapphire glinting, he was otherworldly. You never thought you'd have a man like him. Women like you did not get what they wanted, it was plain and simple. Women like you took what they got and adapted, because otherwise, you ended up an old maid. You didn't want that. You began bouncing against him so your breasts moved, and his eyes immediately fell on them. Letting go of your hands, he bent down and grasped them. Sparks of pleasure coursed back through you as he kissed and bit all over them. You didn't think you could handle it a second time. It didn't stop when his thumb found your clit again, and he moved it in time with his thrusts. The oversensitive spot tingled throughout your body; his touch felt ten times more apparent than before.

"Your Grace," you mumbled, your thoughts forcing themselves together, "I think I might…I…"

At this, he angled you upwards and kept short strokes. The tip of his cock touched right on it again, your eyes rolling back to the strong sensation inside you. It felt like a knot being tightened and tightened until finally it snapped, and you were rutting up against him like an animal. Your second orgasm hit you hard, a strong force that made you lose control. You felt long fingers rest against your throat, not squeezing but simply holding you there. This new restraint, and the struggle of oxygen it brought, strengthened your climax instead of softening it. Your screams came slightly gurgled, but nobody else needed to hear. Your moans were for Aemond’s ears only.

Unable to withhold himself any longer, Aemond took a few more pumps before he came. The hot cum filling you brought on a blissful satisfaction. His held tilted back, eyes closed shut and lips parted, your husband resembled a sculpture. A beautiful one. You ran your nails down his chest to his stomach to feel his tense muscles spasm in every squeeze. He kept thrusting until he'd drained every drop into you. Would you feel soreness in your muscles tomorrow? Yes. Would you regret it? Not at all.

He fell onto his side next to you, blond hairs stuck to his forehead from sweat and a hazy sleepiness in his eyes. You tried your best to regain your breath and strength to even move. You turned your head to see him; you looked over his profile for every detail you can point out. Nobody ever made you feel so safe; so secure and comfortable in your own skin. You rolled onto your side and draped your arm and leg over half of him. He welcomed the cuddle and let you rest your head on his arm, so his hand fell near your hair, where he played with the ends of it idly. Neither you spoke as you basked in each other’s warmth; only smiling and sharing a soft kiss before a voice broke out into the room.

"Well, it's good to see my brother knows how to pleasure a woman."

“Aegon!”

“Aegon, you twat!”

With wicked quickness, Aemond grabbed the nearest object and flung it at his brother, who stood a few feet from your bed. The blond boy laughed as he dodged it. Seeing his brother’s flustered face and you scrambling to cover yourself with sheets, Aegon cackled.

“Mother sent me to come get you,” Aegon said through his laughter, “But, um, I’ll tell her you and Lady Y/N are indisposed right now.”

“You prick, Aegon! Don’t you know how to knock?!” You launched a pillow at him, which hit the man square in the face.

“I didn’t want to interrupt!” he laughed, cheeks red as he walked backwards. “You two seemed to be having a good time!”

“Get out!” you and Aemond yelled in unison.

You watched him leave. You both continued to hear him laughing even after he shut the doors. Aemond flung back onto the pillows in a sigh and you rested next to him.

“Seven Hells,” you cursed, “He’s never going to shut up about it now.”

“Well, if he does, I can just casually remind him in front of a group of people how I once found him in a brothel tied to a pole blindfolded with a woman and a sheep in the room.”

“I’m sorry, but you found him doing what?” you asked in pure disgust.

“Yes,” he nodded, “He claims that the sheep just happened to be there, but I don’t think anyone would believe him.”

The both of you met each other’s gaze and then laughed. You curled back up to him again, his warmth keeping the chill from coming over you, and rested on him. You felt his seed stick between your legs. You hoped. You prayed that, maybe, a child would quicken there. You worried about what tonight’s events might rekindle, and the fallout from that dinner. It was nothing; a snide remark that can be forgiven if done at the right time. Perhaps Alicent will smooth things over, and the king will never hear of it. He is so old and very ill. You hated thinking Viserys died knowing his last effort to mend his family was broken so carelessly.

“You worry too much,” Aemond’s voice broke through your sleepiness. “Don’t let it bother your pretty head anymore.”

“You don’t worry enough,” you replied, shutting your eyes and letting him pull the sheets over you both.

“I do worry. I worry about you,” you felt his lips peck the top of your head. “Now, sleep.”

And so you did in your husband’s arms, the place you were meant to be.

#aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond one eye #aemond the kinslayer #aemond smut #aemond fluff #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd s1 #hotd drabbles #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd imagines

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piristephes · 5 months

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Hermes is near/Hermes se achega

Hermes of the roads, best company You walk amongst mortals in laughter Jesting in ways thine beyond our mind Guiding us forth with inspiring words of silver

Sly-tongued, friend of all, I praise thee! For it is by blessing thine one can find Smart ways to bypass oppression or tyranny And survive in clever bliss along thy majesty

For in every path I take Hermes comes along Be it in a stranger or in luck bright found among The unusual sights of coincidence that Bring me closer to Hermes of golden brilliance.

portuguese:

Hermes dos caminhos, das companhias a melhor Tu andas entre os mortais com riso à mostra Zombando em maneiras além da nossa mente Guiando-nos em inspiração com palavras de prata Astuta língua, amigo de todos, louvo-te! Pois por benção tua é que alguém encontra A esperteza de driblar opressão ou tirania E sobreviver espertamente ladeado a ti no dia a dia Pois em todo caminho que tomo, Hermes se mostra Seja em um estranho ou na reluzente sorte achada Nas incomuns veredas da coincidência que Me trazem para perto de Hermes e sua graça dourada.

#hellenic polytheism #poem #poetry #hymn #hermes #hermes deity #devotional text

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mysticmunson · 1 year

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dad's best friend!steve and munson!reader

saw this concept making rounds and it makes me weak in the knees so here ya go. i decided to make it steve instead of eddie to switch it up lol, hope you enjoy

also sorry lone star 3 is taking forever, i promise i'm still working on it!

It was supposed to be a simple trip back to Hawkins, escaping the suit and ties of corporate New York City, but things were never that easy for Steve. Staying at his best friend Eddie’s house, he was proud of the way he was able to defy odds, now living in a nice home after success as a musician then as a restaurant owner. Both men had gotten busy, but their weekly phone calls and miscellaneous emails persisted.

When they would meet up, Eddie almost always came to New York due to his vacation rental being close, only moving back to Hawkins full time to be close to Wayne as he got older. His home was large, covered in his old band posters with their accomplishments framed on the walls.

The last time Steve had been here was over a decade ago, the photos of Eddie and his ex-wife were gone, something both men had in common after they both endured failed marriages. Only Eddie had a baby, a girl, but who only came to visit during the summer and holiday breaks.

Steve sat across from Eddie on the couch, sipping some expensive red wine that was buried in his liquor cabinet. The age had made it taste better, knowing he probably hadn’t had guests over frequently, and if he did, they would probably settle for beer.

“Surprised you have alcohol this old with a teenager around.” Steve chuckled, scratching the stubble on his chin, swirling the drink to create a small tornado in the glass.

“Tell me about it, I’m just as shocked as you are that my kid wasn’t a delinquent.” Eddie jested, pressing his fist to the side of his forehead, leaning against the leather sofa, “She’s a good kid, she’s 21 now, it’s been awhile since you’ve seen her, huh?”

Nodding, he took another sip, flowing back into the conversation of nostalgia and their current work lives. The mention of one of his restaurants made realization dawn on Eddie’s face, mumbling curses before standing.

“Fuck, I have to put in a food order at one of my locations, I gotta take this call.” Eddie groaned, grabbing his black slip on sandals that made him feel too much like an old man for his enjoyment.

As Steve went to agree, the sound of a door opening and closing made both of them look up, a moment passing before you entered. Standing a bit taller in jeans and a halter top, you slipped off your sandals. Walking past Eddie as he stood, your stride stuttered when you met Steve’s eyes.

“Hey sweetheart, you remember Steve, right? He’s staying with us for a few days, we can go to dinner or something tonight. I have to take a call outside.” He rambled, putting his hand over your hair, giving you a kiss on the forehead.

You sat down where your father was prior, ankles crossed and beneath your butt as you faced Steve. Your soft smile made him feel a little bit better, a lot of time had passed and you had grown up a lot. He wasn’t used to being around anyone else, but older male executives.

The times Eddie came to visit Steve, he didn’t bring you along as you were typically with your mom, the divorce happening fairly shortly after you were born. He would hear updates, random accolades you had garnered or something funny you did. But here you were as a college student, seemingly well adjusted and inheriting the kind eyes from your dad.

“Wow, it’s been a long time, huh? How are you? You’re in college now, right?” Steve asked, taking a final sip of his drink and setting the glass on the coaster. You nodded, signaling the small black kitten that slinked into the room to sit on your lap, who obliged and purred as you pet it.

“I’m good, in my sophomore year at Saint Mary’s,” You explained, the infamous all-girls college recollecting in Steve’s memory, “How are you? How’s Terri?”

The sharp sting in his chest didn’t get easier at the mention of his ex-wife’s name, the woman who left him for his business partner around 9 years ago. It was partially the reason Steve hadn’t come back to visit, they had moved here when another branch of the company opened here. He couldn’t stomach seeing them or the kids they eventually had, ones that she had always told him she never wanted.

“Oh, we’re not together anymore, but I’m well. Business is good, keeping myself busy.” He replied shortly, watching the small cat crawl over to his lap for some attention.

The sharp inhale from your mouth made him look up, “Shit, sorry, I had no idea.”

“No, no! Don’t worry about it, it’s been almost 10 years, I’ve been riding solo since.” He laughed, watching your shoulder deflate any tension, “Tell me about college?”

“Saint Mary’s is nice, I like my professors and the classes are interesting. I’ve made a lot of nice friends there, but it’s an all girls school so not too much fun.” You began, shrugging and looking downward, messing with the friendly cat’s tail, “There’s a boys school nearby, but they’re…”

Awaiting your continuation, Steve watched thoughtfully, remembering how much he hated when people asked him questions, but wouldn’t even look him in the face. Realizing this, blood rushed to your cheeks as his hazel eyes glistened in your direction.

“Immature. They’re very annoying.” You giggled, startling the cat who scurried off, but Steve joined your amusement.

“Makes sense, your dad and I were annoying then.” He mused, thinking about how many choices he made in the 1980s would lead him to now.

“Then?” You teased as his eyes rolled, Eddie re-enter the room with a hand covering his chest at your commentary with a dramatic scoff.

Joining the conversation, the three of you talked until your stomachs rumbled, deciding to head out for dinner. Taking you three to the same restaurant as when he was younger, Eddie waved to his favorite waitress and slid into the booth.

Cramming in years of information into an hour seems difficult, but the three of you tried your best, making the time go by quickly before and after eating. You spoke eloquently for your age, posture straight naturally and carrying yourself well. Steve noticed these things and how your eyes kept lingering on him, but it was either him, Eddie, or the napkin holder to look at.

The wine they served wasn’t as strong as the one from before, but it was decent, getting them a bit buzzed. Your birthday had just passed, making this one of the first times you were able to order alcohol, making Eddie complain about how many gray hairs he had.

The air was crisp, nipping at your cheeks and nose as you rushed to Eddie’s black truck with full stomachs. Steve gave you the front seat, watching your profile glisten against the moonlight, seeing hints of Eddie’s features on you, including his tongue poking habit.

An abrupt shriek came from Eddie’s phone, fumbling with it as he flipped it open, hitting the green button. A quick voice could be made out from the other side as you looked back at Steve, shrugging and turning around. His work voice made you hold back a laugh, having to sound much more authoritative than he ever really had to get with you.

Slamming the phone shut with a groan, he stopped at the red light and rubbed his palms down his face. Slapping his hands on the wheel when it switched to green, he went forward and took a turn down the next street.

“Some idiots fucked up one of the machines so I have to go run and fix it, I’ll just drop you guys off.” He huffed, “I swear, I hire these young people because they know about technology, but they’re the ones who break it!”

The rant lands them in front of the house, giving you and Steve an escape route as he drives away quickly. You both looked at each other for a second before erupting in laughter, making your way towards the front door, “Shit, I thought he was going to blow a blood vessel.”

When you unlocked the door, Steve held the door open, letting you go through first as you both resumed your places on the couch. The T.V. had been left on showing sitcom reruns, a laugh track coming from the boxed machine.

“I don’t think I’ve seen him that mad since I jokingly told him I was pregnant!” You joked, plopping on the couch, turning the channel to MTV.

“Jesus, don’t joke about that! Besides giving him a heart attack, you might speak it into existence.” He warned, thinking about how Eddie probably verged a panic attack when you said that to him.

You scoffed, letting your arms fall at your sides, “Well it’s a good thing I don’t really have to worry about that.”

“What do you mean-” Steve started before catching himself, cheeks flushing bright red, “Oh, fuck. Sorry. You’re a pretty girl, it’ll happen event- Shit, that’s even weirder, sorry.”

“It’s okay! That wine must have been stronger than we thought.” You remarked, eyes watching the bright colors of the cartoon television bumpers. After a few minutes of just static filled cable, you yawned, excusing yourself to bed for the night.

Once you left the room, he threw his head back, wincing at his own stupidity from moments before. The scene replayed in his brain, hoping it wasn’t humiliating or creepy for you to basically confirm your virginity to a man almost twice your age. He had to talk to you again, he figured apologizing would make things worse, so he settled for small talk.

Walking up the big plush stairs, he had vaguely remembered the layout of the home after one visit as he drove through on his way back home. As he walked down the long hallway, he heard a soft breath, making him stop.

His hairs stood as he heard a gentle moan, followed by just a hint of wetness, looking at the wooden door to his left that had a bedazzled tiara on it that lost many of the jewels. His tipsy mind made his feet inch closer, careful of the potential of the floorboards squeaking, but not realizing the fatal flaw in the house's design.

The door creaked open as the wooden panels bumped the bottom, making both of you jump in surprise. You had changed into panties and an oversized shirt, now bringing your knees to your chest.

“Shit, sorry! I came up here to talk because I felt bad about making things awkward, but I think I just made things worse!” He revealed, looking everywhere, but your face. Fidgeting in place, his fight or flight was failing him and he could only think of the noises he heard moments before.

“Wait Steve!” You called, relaxing your legs to stretch in front of you, making his eyes cascade down them to your fuzzy yellow socks, “I have a question.”

“Uh, what? What do you need?” He sighed, blocking his view with his hands on his eyebrows, hoping the blood pumping through his veins went north instead of south.

Except he didn’t hear you speak, just the squeaking of your mattress and footsteps until your socks could be seen. Cautiously moving his hand, he looked at you as you tucked loose hair behind your ear.

His breath hitched in his throat as he smelled the faintest scent of sex and red wine from your stained lips, leaning against the doorframe.

“Sorry, I’m just curious, when did you have sex for the first time?” You spoke softly, unintentionally making his heart beat faster.

“I was 15, her name was Shelley. She was my second girlfriend.” He confessed, thinking of her and how it felt his first time. It went as smooth as first times go, losing it in her bedroom and having to be quiet because her parents were down the hall.

You sighed, turning around to walk to the bed, sitting on the edge. Looking up in confusion, he slipped off his scuffed up white Nikes before walking on your pink carpet. He knew this was no man’s land, looking at the framed photos and posters on the walls.

“It’s okay to be a virgin, it’ll happen at the right time.” He assures, sitting beside you, hiking up his jeans by the thighs. His hand found your knee, squeezing it innocently until he remembered your barely clothed state.

You tensed then relaxed beneath his grasp, turning towards him and smelling his potent aftershave. His fingers curled against your soft skin, his morals melting into a puddle as he looked at your fresh face.

“I want you to fuck me, Steve.” You pronounced, a bit taken aback by your boldness, but not missing the way he jolted yet remained seated.

“Sweetheart, we can’t-” Steve began, shaking his head and having his brown locks fall in front of his face. His hair was slightly shorter than it was in his 20s, cutting it as he entered the 90s, but it still framed his face.

“Steve, please, I won’t tell. I swear.” You promised, the growing heat between your legs becoming more intolerable, squeezing your thighs.

As badly as he wished he had gotten up, walked downstairs, and slept on the couch until Eddie returned. He found himself meeting your lips, feeling the warmth of your skin radiating before he cupped your cheek.

You turned your body towards him, climbing onto his lap and feeling the bump growing underneath his pants. Your hands snaked around his neck, pulling him in fiercely, his coarse hands finding your bottom. The clean cotton meeting your delicate skin made his hips flex, falling onto his back before flipping you over.

Sitting up on his knees, your hands beat him to his shirt, throwing it to the floor. Your hands trailed to his happy trail, his stomach poking slightly over his jeans that grew with age. He was about to question the sexuality of it until he saw your eyelids droop.

His belt came off quickly, followed by the awkward removal of his jeans, making you stifle a laugh. He took your shirt off, groaning at the sight of your tits, pert from arousal. The realization that he was likely the first one to see them made him harder, his boxers becoming tighter as he squeezed your chest.

His hands went below your waistband, finding how silky your folds were, dipping to feel your slick. Your body pressed against his with a whimper, his thick fingers infiltrating your cunt as it gripped like a vice.

Tucking your face against his neck, your gentle sounds went through his ears as his fingers thrusted into your small walls. His thumb found your clit, rubbing it in small circles to excelerate your need.

His mouth practically watered at tasting you, letting his tongue trace every line and nerve. He thought of your hands lacing through his hair and tugging as you cried at how good it would feel, how you had never felt so good. But you were already trying to wiggle his boxers down, your pussy craving something more.

Taking his hands away, he ripped them off, making you moan louder than any of his touches. His muscles flexed, throwing the torn fabric against the wall before discarding his own underwear while straddling you on his knees. Your mouth dropped at his size, a pretty red with precum spouting from the slit and balls heavy from years of his own hand.

“You sure you want this, sweetheart? A pretty girl like you could get any of those boys at school.” He questioned, knowing that you really could pull any guy in Indiana if you wanted, but you reached for his cock cautiously. You gave it a few tugs, twisting your wrist and gaining a rhythm that made his eyes roll back.

“I want you inside me, I know you can treat me better. Please.” You begged, finding yourself growing more desperate as his length grew heavier in your grasp. Chills ran down his spine when you scooted down on the bed to put your lips on his tip, sucking it tentatively.

His gut flexed, reaching forward to hold onto the headboard and the other hand cupping your cheek. The velvety feeling of your cheeks put him on the brink, the years without touch now weighing on him as you looked up at him, hungry.

Slipping his hands beneath your arms, he dragged you up swiftly as you squeaked, his strength being exerted as he spread your legs. His motions were fast, his eyes blown with eagerness, but just as he was about to run himself up your lower lips, he froze.

“I don’t have condoms, I haven’t been with anyone since my wife.” He admitted, slightly embarrassed that he had remained celibate for nine years. He had tried dating, but it was hard to move on from what he went through, opting to bury himself in his work and buy one hell of a fleshlight.

“I can take an after pill, I’ll go to the store right after.” You compromised, pulling him closer as your chests went flush against each other. His heavy breathing only escalated as he took the hand not holding him up to guide himself against your heat, keeping eye contact.

Attempting to look down and avoid his intense gaze, he only nudged you to upkeep the intimacy, making you crumble. He bumped against your opening, gasping as the mushroom tip persevered through, making him choke out a moan.

You felt his soft curls as he thrusted slowly, trying to help you grow accustomed to his size. He hushed your faint cries, kissing your head before your lips. Your nose was still cold from the bitter weather, meeting his warm one while his tongue grazed your lower mouth.

Parting your mouths to adjust the position, let gasps leave both of you, his pace becoming longer as he tried to fit at least half of himself in. You tugged on his hair as he reached a pleasurable part inside you, causing him to nip your lip. When he pulled away, you whimpered, but relaxed onto the mattress.

“That’s it, huh? Found your special spot? Your little fingers couldn’t get all the way up here, could they? I’m not even all the way in.” He teased, holding your hip firmly to create a tempo, finding the same placement that kept making you moan.

Nodding frantically, you opened your eyes to see his bore into yours, feeling the situation grew far more intimate and intense than expected. He moved your left knee up, letting his naval hit at your clit at a perfect angle.

“Deeper, fuck me deeper.” You breathlessly requested, mewls falling out as he obliged, his balls just reaching your ass, “You feel so good.”

He faltered, biting his lip to refrain from letting go too soon, counting to five in his head before picking back up. Your hands fell to your chest, toying with your sensitive nipples as your body trembled.

Looking up at him with wide eyes, he saw the nervousness in them, as if the reality of the situation began to hit as your orgasm crawled closer. He felt a tug in his heart, softening his expression and taking one of your breasts in his palm.

“Do you feel good?” He pondered and was met with a nod, “Then you’re okay. Just let it happen.”

As if he had bewitched your body, your orgasm came shortly after, making your body heat rise and mind go blank. Somehow, Steve was able to hold off, working you through your finish until you came back to reality, whimpering at the sensitivity of his touch.

He felt himself growing closer, his balls and lower gut tightening, pressing himself against your tummy to feel a subtle movement beneath. He was fully submerged, your come making his dick glide smoother.

You gripped his bicep, putting your damp forehead against his, feeling encapsulated by euphoria as you knew he grew closer. He gritted his teeth, edging himself to make this moment last as long as possible.

“Come inside me, fill me up.” You pleaded, his head snapping up, bewildered to the point of amusement.

“Don’t say things like that. I won’t be able to contain myself.” He rationalized, but your hormones were desperate for it, as if the world would stop spinning if he didn’t. You pressed his cheek to yours, your lips just at his ear, his warm breath hitting your shoulder.

“Fill me up Steve, fuck a baby into me, make me yours.” As the words left your mouth, the rope of his sanity was severed, taking both your knees and shoving them to the bed.

Those few words are ones he had been waiting for for years, all his rationality and judgment was discarded to the side. There would be a plethora of pieces to pick up as soon as he would finish, but he didn’t have the mental capacity to care. The primal need to pump you full had created tunnel vision.

The once gentle pace was replaced by a brutal one, his balls smacking harshly against the shell of your ass as you wailed. You stuttered on your own noises, rubbing your bundle of nerves as he obliterated your cunt, borderline bruising your cervix.

“Fuck!” He yelled, startling you as you gawked at the way his veins poked from his neck and hands. With a few more thrusts, he moaned brokenly as his come coated your walls and your second orgasm met his. His hand shoved yours away, rubbing quickly to the point of overstimulation, wiggling.

His body fell on top of yours, your arms wrapping around him tightly as he did the same, twisting to lay on his side. He let his softening cock fall from your cunt, feeling his own release covering himself as it poured out.

There were no words to explain what had occurred in the past hour, letting your foreheads touch in silence with closed eyes for a moment. Steve had to recoup before he even tried to act normal and he didn’t forget it was your first time, stroking your hair.

The bed felt cold when he got up, grabbing his underwear and disappearing for the bathroom. Though his touch had just been introduced, you were craving it instantly, feeling a bit like a lost puppy.

He returned with a wet cloth, wiping between your legs delicately, making you blush fiercer than when he was plowing into you. Once he had soaked most of it up, he tossed it into your laundry basket on the other side of the room, grabbing a clean pair of panties and shirt from the floor to help you redress.

“I’m sorry if I got a little intense.” He mumbled out as your head poked through the white shirt, seeing his bashfulness at his behavior. You gifted him a small smile, mumbling that you liked it through a yawn, tired eyes fluttering.

“I’m gonna go back downstairs, let me know if you need anything, okay?” Steve explained, kissing your head and bringing the blanket up to your chest, “Also, make sure you go to the bathroom, you can get a UTI if you don’t.”

He chuckled at the scrunch of your nose, walking to his own discarded clothes and putting them back on. The sweat made his jeans a bit harder to put on, thankful he chose a loose shirt for the day, snatching his Nikes he had left by the door on the way out.

He needs to stay in fucking New York.

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polish-art-tournament · 1 month

Text

round 4: bracket 7 final poll

why three paintings? because the two chełmońskis tied in round 3

Kucie kos (Scythe forging) from the series “Polonia” by Artur Grottger, 1863:

about the artist: grottger was a poor little meow meow who really wanted to participate in the uprising in 1863. he even came to lwów to join. but all his friends were like ARTUR BABY NO!!!!! YOU ARE A SICKLY CHILD (he was like 25 or something) so he stayed at home and while the uprising was happening he made the Polonia series depicting scenes from insurgents’ lives. his brother was an insurgent and got exiled to siberia for it btw. and grottger also made a Lithuania series bc he was all about that Commonwealth restitution cause. and he continued to be obsessed with the uprising but who can blame him. i mean he also painted other things both historical and portraits of his contemporaries but this is what he is famous for i think

Noc gwiaździsta (Starry night) by Józef Chełmoński, 1888:

no propaganda has been submitted

Czwórka (Four-in-hand) by Józef Chełmoński, 1881:

propaganda: wyjebutnie mocna ta perspektywa. zaraz cię rozjadą. JEST MOC [this perspective is so fucking powerful. they are gonna run you over. BEHOLD THEIR MIGHT]

#józef chełmoński #artur grottger #polls #round 4.#polish art

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everydayyoulovemeless · 4 months

Note

The people have spoken you should write about arcade getting tied up and fucked within an inch of his life 🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶 jk jk I don’t actually know if you write stuff like that

Unless…?

I jest I jest!

Unless…?

Obedient ↠ Arcade x Reader

➼ Word Count » 0.5k ➼ Warnings » Bondage, Anal, Overstimulation, Bottom!Arcade ➼ Genre » Romantic, NSFW ➼ A/N » no no no, the people have spoken and I'll do my best to deliver 😤 I have to warn you all tho, I haven't written smut in like 5 years, so spare me if it's rusty 😭

The sheets below Arcade were coated in sweat and cum. The ropes that linked his hands behind his back were tight on his wrists, keeping him from moving too much as you had your way with him.

"Mmm... you're doing great for me..." You groaned, keeping him planted firmly into the mattress below. "Just a little longer, ok? Then I'll.. mmm.. let you go."

He didn't reply, only pressing his face further into the covers of the bed, embarrassed at how easily you got him to comply and at how easily he was coming undone.

You combed your hand sweetly through his blond locks, before tugging his head back roughly, forcing him to meet your gaze as you pressed yourself harder onto his back.

"What's wrong? Too much?" You teased, pushing your cock slowly inside of him, before pulling it out in your same painfully unhurried pace.

He only nodded in response, letting out a shaky breath at the sound of your tone.

You hummed in mock concern. You knew he didn't mean it. He wanted this just as much as you did - needed it, even, with the attitude he'd been throwing your way recently.

You released your hold on his hair, running your hand down the side of his face, adoring the way he involuntarily shivered.

He'd be obedient for you. You knew he would. You'd make sure of it. And, by the end of the night, you expected that he'd follow you around like a lost puppy. Searching - begging, for you to do what you were doing to him again. He was easy like that. Easy to remind and easy to control. It's what you liked most about him.

Your hands trailed their way slowly onto his pale and clammy shoulders. You gripped your fingers around him lightly, before pushing him down deeper into the bed. It was a bit harsher than you intended, but it got him in the position you needed him to be in. Face down and his back arched more on the soft bed of the Lucky 38. Clean and sanitary, just as he requested.

You rocked your hips against him, slowly at first, but you quickly began to gain traction.

You admired the way his features scrunched together, both in pain and pleasure by how many times you've made him come undone in the time you've spent together.

"Mmm... I'm close, baby." You cooed, grazing your nails softly down his spine, wanting to feel him shiver once more for you before you let him out of his bonds.

He whimpered and grunted softly, nodding his head in acknowledgment.

Grabbing the knot that connected his two wrists together, you pushed yourself all the way in.

You pressed your head to the center of his shoulder blades as you released yourself inside of him. Smiling when you felt it start to spill out into the puddle that had already started to form beneath the both of you.

You stayed in the position for a moment, before gently pulling yourself out and untying Arcade. You chuckled softly, brushing the hair out his face as you scooped his lanky figure into your arms and carried him toward the bathroom of the presidential suite to clean both him and you off before you fell asleep in one of the... other beds the place offered.

#fallout new vegas #fallout #fnv #arcade gannon x courier #arcade fnv #arcade gannon #arcade x courier 6 #arcade x courier six #arcade x reader #arcade x courier #arcade gannon x courier 6 #arcade gannon x courier six #arcade nsft #fallout smut #fallout nsft

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sugar-petals · 1 year

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I've been thinking about this for a bit and wanted to know your thought... How do you think BTS would react to their partner suggesting a threesome with another member? Do you think their reactions would be different depenting on which member was suggested to join?

pov - you want two gorgeous boys to top 💞

💌 word count. 760

masterlist

[sub!hobi] might end up wanting to overdo it, going as far as saying "wait, only three?!" in jest, or seriousness, it's hard to tell at first, he’s so mysterious about it. boo is ready to lapdance for not one, not two, but three plus people at once. needless to say, his reaction to your idea is hilarious — but also a bit all over the place, so this needs careful planning. you suggest to just try making out as four with lots of swapping around instead of going full throttle d/s dungeon party right away, which turns out to be a fantastic idea and becomes a regular occurence. like, who knew! like that, you find out you actually prefer a romantic kiss fest over doing a straight up orgy, it’s hysterical though. once it turns sexual, though, hobi is ready to get tied to the bed. ride of his life incoming.

[sub!taehyung] looks thoroughly confused like a pup. he would interpret it as an incoming love triangle where he has to fight for mommy’s attention and weed through a chaos of sexual tension — far from what you had in mind, which was doing something pleasant just because. he sees that you look for excitement, or a bit of snuggle piling with romance, which he wants to deliver “on my own, why not?” instead. you get how taehyung would say he is enough, no additions required, and if there’s one soft sub you’d ever need collared as yours, it would be him. he would have fun, but he also insists he’s loyal to you only, his body and mind belong to you.

[sub!yoongi] is enormously picky with whom to choose to a point where he decides to decline by the end of reasoning it through. picturing it all in his head, figuring out if it has consequences. he’s entertaining the idea in thought, which actually feels sexy to him, too, but doesn’t want to just do the leap of faith. it’s too precarious, too vulnerable. as two, it's more in his comfort zone. he says no offense to the members though, that "they're all cute and handsome" anyway, ain’t he right. you’re not surprised he’s sceptical and at the same time doesn’t mind your ideas, though, yoongi is never happy-go-lucky with what you have together. if this ever went down, he’d want a guy outside the group to join and dominate yoongi together with you, like manhandling 5000.

[sub!jimin] would be open, curious, and the big tease we all know: “want something juicy, huh?” your boyfriend even has very specific wishes how it could go down as soon as you lay out your ideas. out of all people, he wants nothing too acrobatic and brutal, it should be affectionate, fun, and only be spectacular if everyone is comfortable. sees it as an opportunity to expand on his charm and playful sexuality instead, but makes sure your bond emerges strong as ever afterwards, it’s all about the eye contact. probably agrees to having some ribbon bondage performed on him, and a tongue-in-cheek spanking. rimming pun intended, his ass is ready.

[sub!namjoon] is predictable and close to yoongi's reaction: he thinks and thinks and thinks. very carefully. the philosopher at work. “um, hah, no clue” — which member should it be? he wants to please you but he’s also insecure, and just like jin is having ten thousand emotions at once. it’s basically ten thousand thoughts in his case. joon won’t be able to give you a brief answer, stuttering, unsettled, nervous as hell. you realize he might not be experienced and ready enough for this, so it’s best to keep your kinky hours under wraps as always. he feels like keeping it monogamous is more intimate, which you respect. namjoon is ten times more jealous a sub than he looks and vibes like.

[sub!seokjin] goes back and forth on this. he's easy-going, he's doubtful, he's puzzled, he's intrigued. which causes him to ask you if that decision can be postponed for now, his emotions are currently in turmoil. reading him well on your part is the challenge, but you quickly understand jin’s on the fence. you say sorry, but he thanks you for being transparent instead. it’s a bit awkward, but jin gets everything back on track with his humor soon. comes back to you the other week offering to get double topped for a whipping. turns out he made up his mind and just needs a second top. can’t spell genius without jin! he is the true king of threesomes.

[sub!jungkook] is wildly enthusiastic and 99% positive, not bothering with worries, prerequisites, or any envy. the eyes? are sparkling: “i like this idea so much, i love you!” even if he didn't consider doing something poly with you before, he agrees right away. his attitude is similar to jimin’s, actually. it's a fruitful addition to your sex life in his view, and any member is a good pick to him. in fact, jk is the ideal addition to any bangtan threeway, fourway, fiveway, you name it. you'd think a group's leader or the oldest would roll that way, but it's most maknaes who have that magical ability, don’t they. anything goes, down for whatever you could possibly come up with. a maid dress, mouth gags, shibari, every toy on earth.

masterlist

#bts smut #bts #bangtan #sub!bts #sub!idol #sub!idol x reader #sub!idols #bts x reader #dom!reader #bts scenarios #bts reactions #jungkook smut #yoongi smut #namjoon smut #jimin smut #hoseok smut #jin smut #taehyung smut

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blueraineshadows · 8 months

Text

Secrets of the Night Part 5

Sebastian Sallow x Ominis Gaunt

Sebinis fic. Sexual activity NSFW 🔞 Chapter Master list

6th Year

Despite the dark turn that the last school year had taken, it felt good to be walking the halls of Hogwarts again. Sebastian tackled his classes with a hungry enthusiasm, the professors seemingly impressed with the return of his passion for learning. Professor Weasley had taken the time to speak with him, offering her ear over the loss of his family members. A gesture he appreciated but declined.

It did not appeal to rake over the horrors of what had taken place. His guilt was his burden to carry, and carry it he would. He was trying to adjust to it, to find a way to live around it, and all with the hope that one day Anne would find it within herself to come back to him. Until then, he would continue to strive towards keeping the promises he had made to their dear friend and Ominis.

Sebastian was fine. Joy glimmered around the edge of the darkness. His dear friend with her smiles and hugs chased away demons, their shared secrets a bond that tied them together, a presence in his life he cherished and would do anything to keep. He could not imagine how things would be without her there.

Above all, his beautiful Ominis shared that harboured love held in his heart, their soft touches and hidden kisses the main stay of life at the castle. It was like having a soft, warm blanket to shroud him with safety. With that, Sebastian could face anything. It made him invincible, and the joy revealed itself in his smirk and swagger.

It wasn't just the school work that benefited from this refreshing enthusiasm. Crossed Wands brought out the passion for duelling to new heights, and he weilded his wand with style, earning himself admirers that stroked his ego. He would partner no one but his dear friend, though, and together they made quite the team.

Sebastian had grown taller, his shoulders widening and muscle filling out in ways that made him appear very much the man he was becoming. His admirers turned their gazes upon him with smiles filled with secret urges, eyes that sparkled with interest, and it would make his cheeks turn pink. Of course, his dear friend took every opportunity to tease him about it, reminding him of his attempts to woo pretty witches during their summer break.

The jest was amusing, but beneath it lay the truth. No matter how many boys and girls turned their flirty smiles his way, they would get no more than a smile in return. His heart and soul was not his to give away, they rested in the hands of Ominis, and Sebastian would have it no other way.

The passion shared between them was something they kept behind the curtains of their beds on the dorm. To all appareances, they were best friends, close companions. Their love a secret to everyone but their dear friend.

Ominis took great pains to keep a respectable distance, not wanting news to travel back to the Gaunt family about his sin. He was a male Gaunt with seed ripe for breeding. To bed down with another man would evoke the cold blooded fury of his blood supremacist relatives.

Sebastian respected the need for secrecy, the comfort of his love, his priority as it had always been. At night, once the shadows were deep and the silence of sleep heavy, Sebastian would slip behind the curtains and draw Ominis into his embrace. With hands and lips, they would devour and worship, easing the hunger that ate away during the day when they could not express it.

Sebastian knew every line and curve, the scent of skin and the feel of every blemish and delight that was Ominis. The soft sounds made into the depths of night were his addiction. The need to hear them was the drive that pulled Sebastian to their bed rather than to skulk the halls and library as he once did.

A contentment of sorts began to settle over Sebastian, a rare gleam of warmth that he could call happiness. If only Anne could be here to share it.

....*....

As life was often prone to do, things couldn't always run so smoothly. The first instance was a letter from home that sent Ominis into a dark mood. He withdrew from their dear friend, her worry evident when she gazed at him. Not even Sebastian could seem to soothe the shadow from Ominis' brow when they lay together at night. He was especially snippy, more so than usual, and it came to a head one weekend when Headmaster Black summoned him to his office.

Sebastian paced and chewed his nails while he waited. His eyes darted in search of his friend's return, but time passed, and he did not. Lunch was a meal forced through a tight throat and then discarded, in favour of some fiery blasts of frustration in the Undercroft. To be parted from Ominis without knowledge of why tore up Sebastian from the inside. It was intolorable, and it convinced Sebastian that he could not be without him.

It was evening when Ominis finally returned. Sebastian was sat on his bed, his hand firmly clasped with his dear friend's as they whispered their musings about where Ominis could be. She understood. She was the only one who could placate him and urge him into a restless patience.

When Ominis finally arrived through the door, the pair of them sat up straighter, staring at the white fury on Ominis' face.

"You're back," Sebastian needlessly pointed out.

He felt a gentle squeeze of his hand, turning to look to see the concern on her face. He nodded once and eyed Ominis carefully.

"Are you alright?"

Ominis stood, face tightly controlled, his breathing clearly forced to be steady as his wand drifted slowly towards their direction. He nodded.

"You are both here, good," he said. He moved closer, coming around to seat himself on the edge of his own bed. He took a moment to compose himself before speaking.

"I have been with my parents," he began.

Sebastian felt his heart sink. A cold apprehension spread through him, the tiny fear that had been niggling at the back of his mind bloomed into full blown terror. He stared at Ominis, his hand clenching tightly around hers as he waited for more.

"We had lunch with a respectable family. They have two daughters, one of whom attends here. She is a fifth year," he said. He paused, his throat working tightly. "My family and hers seek to have us betrothed. My worst fear is to be realised. I am to be wed to a pure blood daughter, a cousin through marriage."

"No!" Sebastian said firmly. He shook his head, denying the words and what they meant.

Their dear friend put a steadying hand on his arm, but he could barely feel it. His body thrummed with denial and fear. They could not take Ominis from him. They just couldn't.

Ominis bowed his head, his fingers clasping tightly together around his wand, his face a tortured portrait of his misery.

"This can't happen," Sebastian said, his voice beginning to shake. He felt his dear friend brush her thumb in soothing strokes over the back of his hand.

"I'm so sorry," she said, her eyes downcast and sad as she gazed at Ominis. "When is this supposed to happen?"

Ominis let loose a shaky sigh. "After I graduate. She will not finish her time at Hogwarts. She will leave to become my wife."

Sebastian wrenched himself free of her touch, his skin burning with his fury. He launched off the bed and began to pace, his hands raking through his hair as his chest heaved with frustrated breaths. Words of denial slipped through his lips, his eyes squeezing shut against the images of a girl pressed against Ominis, her hands touching what belonged to him. He imagined Ominis waiting as she spoke her vows, placing her hand in his and swearing to be his forever. Sebastian shook his head. No!

"They can't take you from me," he said, his voice cracked and broken. His loneliness yawned before him, a future stretching out as a black shadow with no Ominis there to bring the light.

Ominis stood, his hands outstretched and searching until they made contact with Sebastian's quivering frame.

"They will not part us," Ominis said. His eyes shone with unshed tears, his soft voice thick with emotion. "I promise you."

Sebastian's eyes stung as he wrapped his arms around Ominis, holding him tightly as though he feared he might float away and vanish at any moment. He buried his face into his neck, his breaths hot and fast, his fingers grasping at the back of Ominis' robes.

"You're mine," he said, the words a cracked hiss of possession.

Ominis stroked his thin, pale hands along Sebastian's back, sliding up to soothe through his ruffled locks. "I always will be," he murmured, his words soft but firm. "Worry not. We will find a way."

....*....

No matter how many times their dear friend implored him, or the reassurance from Ominis constantly offered, Sebastian couldn't bear to even look at the fifth year girl who was to be the betrothed. If she ever made attempts to speak with Ominis, Sebastian would pout or glare, his arms folded and his eyes hard at the audacity of her.

"You know this isn't her fault," Ominis chided gently one afternoon. "She is being manipulated into this just as much as I am. You should not be so rude."

Sebastian scowled and lowered his head over his book, not reading at all but putting up a good show of it, which was wasted on Ominis, and yet he continued.

"You shouldnt encourage her, Omi," he muttered sourly. "What if you charm her into thinking this is a good idea after all?"

Ominis smirked. "Unlikely, I believe she has a secret suitor of her own. Besides, why shouldn't she be charmed with me? I'm a delight."

Sebastian's mouth tightened and he narrowed his eyes, gaze roaming over beautiful pale skin and delicious lips. Sebastian felt the urge, the warmth that coiled with need in his loins. He imagined biting Ominis' lower lip and making him whimper, that sweet little sound that made his blood roar with a hunger and stole his breath.

"Care to make a trip to the Undercroft and show me just how delightful you are, Gaunt?"

Ominis stilled, his cheeks turning pink and he licked his lips, long fingers adjusting his robe. "It would be my pleasure," he said softly.

....*....

Such soft hair, like silk, slipping effortlessy through Sebastian's fingers as he mussed the neatly combed strands on Ominis' head. Sebastian stared down at that silken hair, stroking it and massaging the scalp as Ominis took his cock as far as it would go. The sight of his wet and swollen length gliding past those lips made him throb, made his hips flex with the urge to press deeper, filling that pretty mouth with all that he had to offer.

Sebastian moaned, little whimpers leaving his lips at the softness of that mouth, the ache fierce but sweet as the pressure built. Soft strokes of tongue added to the pleasure, and Sebastian tugged sharply at that silky hair, drawing a low groan from Ominis that vibrated around his cock.

Sebastian let himself drift on the waves of desire, heady and hot, his deepest wish to take Ominis in the most intimate way teased at his thoughts. They had yet to explore that option, and it pulled at Sebastian, filled him up until the thought of it had him spilling into Ominis' throat.

That night as Ominis slept in his arms, Sebastian stroked his soft skin and played with his hair, watching the delicate flutter of his eyelids against his cheeks. He loved him, loved him so much that it ached deep in his soul. He needed Ominis. He was his life and heart, the anchor that he clung to when everything else spun wild and dangerous. He would do anything to keep that.

This weekend, he would take Ominis to Feldcroft, check the house, and perhaps they could examine the carnal book together again. Perhaps Sebastian could finally claim Ominis in the privacy of their home. He held Ominis a little tighter, close against his chest. All his.

....*....

The wind howled down through the mountains, sending whirls of crisp leaves across the centre of Feldcroft. Sebastian tugged his robe tighter around himself as they returned to the cottage with a basket of goods from the trader. Ominis leaned against the gusts, his face set in a frown as he too clutched his robe.

The cottage seemed well, and Sebastian set the basket down on the table, rubbing his hands together as he gathered some logs to get a fire going. He paused. An envelope lay on the hearth, tattered but intact, his named scrawled on the front in a familiar hand.

A chill slithered down his spine followed by a hot flush as he hurried to snatch up the envelope. His fingers shook as he stared down at it, hardly daring to believe, and yet terrified of what the contents may be.

"Ominis," he said, shaken. "There's a letter here. I think it's from Anne."

There was a soft expletive and shuffling of feet as Ominis approached, the blinking of his wand appearing at Sebastian's shoulder.

"What does it say?"

"I'm almost afraid to look," Sebastian confessed. He traced a finger over his name, his heart tripping and stuttering in his chest.

"Would you like me to read it first?" Ominis offered.

Sebastian swallowed and took hold of Ominis' hand, slipping the envelope in to his slim fingers. "Please," he whispered.

The tension in his muscles was sharp and agonising as he waited for Ominis to open the envelope and take out a single piece of parchment. Ominis guided his wand over the words written there, his face turned to one side, his pale eyes roaming freely as the information was translated into his mind. Such a beautiful piece of magic, a gift for a man who had so much to offer and yet, in the Muggle world would have suffered with restrictions and dead ends.

Sebastian could barely watch as Ominis' expression shifted between thoughtful and then perhaps surprise as his eyebrows lifted and his lips parted. A flush of colour came to his cheeks, and were those tears shining in his eyes?

"What is it?" Sebastian asked, holding his breath.

Ominis held out the parchment. His smile was soft. "She is well, Sebastian. Anne is well. See for yourself," he said.

Sebastian yanked the parchment from him, eyes greedily scanning Anne's sprawling script, blinking furiously against the swimming blur of his own tears as the truth was spelled out on paper.

Anne was no longer in pain, the curse seemingly gone since late spring, and she had been gathering her strength whilst staying in Edinburgh. Now, at full strength, she wished to return to Hogwarts and complete her education. Before that, she desired to meet with Sebastian, for they needed to talk.

A sob left his lips and he sank down into the nearest chair, the letter dropping to the table top before him, a tear drop slipping from his cheek to blot the bottom of it.

"She is coming home," he said, voice heavy with emotion.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, the most gentle of squeezes, and he placed his own hand atop it. How to describe the tumble of thoughts, the swell within his chest was overwhelming, and he swallowed hard to fight against the lump forming in his throat.

Not only was she coming home, but she was well. The why and how didnt matter in that moment, those curiosities would come later, his mind would demand thorough answers for such a thing after so long spent trying to find them himself.

For now, he just needed to process the knowledge that she was alive and safe. His heart had never felt so full. If she was ready to forgive him too, then he was a man blessed.

"She will be here for your seventeeth birthday," Ominis said quietly.

Sebastian felt a fresh wave of tears threaten. They would be turning seventeen, coming of age. They had entered the world together and shared everything together up until recently. It was only right that they were reunited as they became true adults. The letter was the first step. Anne had reached out to him, which meant that she did not hate him as he feared.

"Quite possibly the best birthday present a man could wish for," Sebastian said. "I cannot wait to see her."

....*....

The soft glow of the fire was the only light inside the cottage. The wind howled around the outside, the wood and stone creaking against the buffeting gusts, delicate whines seeping through any gaps in the thatched roof.

Ominis lay back on the bed, naked, his legs spread with Sebastian between them, his mouth hungry yet gentle as he devoured soft thighs. Careful reading of the book had prepared Sebastian, he knew what he needed to do, and excitement thrummed in his blood at the prospect of it. Whilst Ominis knew what to expect in the theory sense, his body trembled with the curious anticipation of it all.

Sebastian soothed with kisses and strokes, tender fingers illiciting those delicious whimpers from plush lips. Slowly he dragged his tongue across the most sensitive of flesh, the muscle contracting under the wet swirl, working his way around the little twitching hole. He did not want to hurt Ominis, and worked diligently with tongue and finger tip to loosen the tight flesh.

"Are you alright?" He asked, the soft whimpers laced with apprehension.

"I am... it just feels so different, so... new," Ominis said, hesitantly.

"I can stop," Sebastian offered.

"Don't you dare," Ominis said, his tone switching to a much firmer cadence.

Sebastian's smirk was wicked as he bent his head back down, sliding his tongue along the length of Ominis' cock before returning to his precious task. The low moan that blessed his ears urged him on to add a second finger.

When the time came to nudge with the eager tip of his cock, Sebastian was almost drooling with need, Ominis was flushed and spread before him, glorious and tempting. Carefully, slowly, he pushed himself inside. Ominis arched so prettily, the tightness fluttering around the head of Sebastian's cock making him pant. He had to grit his teeth to hold back. The urge to sink himself fully and all at once was maddening.

"Does it hurt?" Sebastian said, his voice strained.

"No," Ominis whined. He put a hand to his face, blushing and panting, a little shy. "It feels full, but good. I can take some more. Please."

Sebastian slid deeper, watching with fascination as Ominis took him so well. He found he could not stop, pushing ever deeper until he was fully seated, bottoming out and groaning at the delicious tightness that enveloped him in fluttering bliss.

"Oh, fuck, that feels good," he groaned. He palmed Ominis, his cock rigid and weeping just above where Sebastian was buried deep.

"So full," Ominis gasped.

"I need to move," Sebastian begged. "Please."

Ominis nodded and Sebastian withdrew slightly, looking down to watch as his cock slid free before sinking it back in with a delicious stretch. Once he had started, he couldn't stop, hips moving, picking up pace and the moans fell from his lips. Through lidded eyes he watched as Ominis arched his back, his cock bobbing to the rhythm of Sebastian's thrusts, his own whimpering moans increasing as his fingers clutched at the bed sheets.

"You're so beautiful," Sebastian praised. "And mine. All fucking mine."

His hand gripped Ominis at the thighs, spreading him open further as he thrust harder, the soft slap of their flesh mingling with their grunts and moans. Sebastian could feel impending release and he grit his teeth, not wanting this to stop just yet. It just felt too good.

Ominis fluttered hotly and Sebastian watched, awestruck as his cock throbbed, release splattering upwards over his stomach and chest. Sebastian wanted to lick it, but wasn't prepared to sacrifice the delicious tightness that clenched around his own cock. It sent him. His own release pumping thick and hot, deep inside Ominis, profanities falling from his lips.

Afterwards, when Sebastian reluctantly relinquished his possessive claim on Ominis, his cock sliding free, he watched as his seed seeped from that tight hole. With a thumb, he pressed it back inwards, the satisfaction of knowing that Ominis had a piece of him still inside of him was enough to keep the smirk on his lips.

In each other's arms, they lay content and at peace. They were safe here, together. Before dawn, they would share each other again. Sebastian securing himself as the one to bring pleasure and satisfaction to Ominis. His love.

....*....

The wind bit through their robes and stung their cheeks as they strolled across the sand of Feldcroft beach. Sebastian held Ominis by the hand, uncaring of who saw around here. The locals had seen him with Ominis enough over the years to know of his blindness. They knew Sebastian saw to him, and therefore it felt safe to touch him.

On the return to school, they would need to be mindful of their touches, careful to express their hearts in private. It was worth it.

The waves rolled in, crashing against the shore, whipped and frothy in the autumn gusts. Winter was incoming, and you could feel it in the air.

"Should we tell Anne about us?" Sebastian asked.

Ominis considered, lips pursing before he shook his head. "Perhaps not at first," he said. He gave Sebastian's hand a squeeze. "You two need to reconnect. I'd rather not jeopardise that. We have time to tell her later on, unless she figures it out for herself. Not much gets past Anne."

Ominis smiles fondly, and Sebastian is reminded of the summer before Anne was cursed. She had been giving Ominis soft looks, her eyes saying more than her smart mouth ever admitted. Would she be disgusted with them? A shadow drifted over Sebastian's joy at the thought.

"Maybe you are right. We should wait," he said.

Ominis paused in his step, turning his face to Sebastian, urging him closer with a tug of his hand. His fingers were warmly enclosed in gloves to keep off the cold, but the touch he placed against Sebastian's cheek sent shivers of a different kind through him.

"I love you. I want you to know that," Ominis said. "No matter what comes, that will never change. Even if things become difficult, I want you to remember this moment, here on this beach. Remember that I love you, and we will find a way."

"I love you, too," Sebastian said, the words said with conviction and passion. He pulled Ominis in and held him close. "I will never let anyone take you from me."

....*....

The eve before his seventeenth birthday, Sebastian sat in the Undercroft, his hands turning over the old pocket watch he had retrieved from the storage chest in the cottage. His thumb smoothed over the surface before he opened it, the clock face still keeping good time despite its age.

His dear friend came to sit beside him, her hair falling from its clip, her eyes sleepy as she fought back a yawn. She leant her head against his shoulder, looking down at his hands.

"What do you have there?" She asked.

"It was my father's watch," he replied. The nostalgia that came from holding it was swamped with an aching sadness, an emptiness he would never fill, no matter how much time passed.

"It's rather lovely, Seb. Are you thinking of using it?"

He sighed and rubbed at his hair. He was torn about using the watch. While it held special sentiment, the manner in which he had received the watch went against how it should have happened, and that heavy sadness pulled on him.

"I dont know if you are aware of the tradition that when a wizard comes of age, you are gifted a watch. This watch was gifted to my father by his parents when he was seventeen," he said. She adjusted her head on his shoulder, leaning closer against him as she listened. "Tomorrow, I will be seventeen. My father should have been here to give me this watch. Instead, I am sitting here holding it, alone, and wondering if I am deserving of such an honour."

"Oh, Seb, you are not alone," she said, wrapping her arms about him. "I am here, and so is Ominis. Tomorrow, Anne will be here too. Why should you not be deserving?"

His eyes stung and he blinked a few times, leaning into her. "Because I fail you all."

"No," she said. She shifted, pulling him in for a proper hug, and he allowed himself to be enveloped in her warmth. "We all make mistakes, Sebastian. All of us. It's how you recover from them that makes the difference between who is a failure and who is not. And you have not failed me."

"I'm scared I will fuck up again," he said, clinging tightly to her. "I'm scared of losing you all. What if Anne can't forgive me?"

That was the deepest fear of all. Would Anne come back and tell him that she didn't forgive him? It was almost choking how much that idea filled him. Now that the chance to see her was so close, he could only imagine a coldness in her eyes. The way she had looked at him in the catacombs had chilled his blood.

You've made your choice.

Her last words to him. As though it had been a choice.

Again, his dear friend held him, stroked his hair, and murmured her words of encouragement and love. Even when the hour grew late, the pocket watch telling him that he was officially an adult, he remained in the Undercroft with her until eventually sleep called them to their beds.

Ominis was still awake and reading when Sebastian arrived in the dorm. He lifted his wand as Sebastian approached, tugging off his clothes and crawling in beside Ominis. He felt a gentle touch on his head.

"Happy Birthday, Sebastian," he whispered.

Sebastian took hold of his hand and pressed his lips to it, tucking it in close to him as he closed his eyes. He remembered that morning walk on the beach, and the promise that they had made to each other.

Whatever happened, he had Ominis. He was loved. He snuggled into the blankets, savouring the familiar scent and warmth. He closed his eyes and waited for sleep.

To be continued...

#hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #sebinis #blueraineshadows #sebastian x ominis

57 notes · View notes

lumelii · 11 months

Text

hi ho! it's been a while. but i come bearing a gift. hope you like it!

word count: 3.3k

content warning: slightly nsfw at the end, a whole lot of angst, bullying (?)

Let me know if i missed any tags. Thanks as always to Moni @karamfilmare for being my beta.

Why won’t the ringing stop?

You were sure her name had been given as she was introduced to you, but the words did not register over the incessant peal which started as soon as you saw her with Yuuji across the room. You didn’t need her name though. Yuko Ozawa, the daughter of an old friend of Mr. Nanami’s from Oxford College. She and her father were staying with the Nanamis while her father attended to business in London, though this was the first time you had seen her out in public. From what you understood, her family lived in genteel poverty somewhere in the countryside, not enough money to spend the social season in London.

Your cousin’s hand on your arm was the only thing keeping your knees from buckling as you stared at Yuuji and Yuko. The look was plain on his face as he watched her. His lazy smile, the soft crinkle at the corners of his eyes, the way his gaze sparkled and wouldn’t be ripped from hers even if a fire broke out in the Gojo’s grand ballroom.

You must have been taking too long to respond to her introduction, not able to even curtsy without the fear of falling on your face. Ichika stepped in, curtsying deeply enough to support you as well as you did your best attempt to maintain some sense of decorum.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Ozawa.” Ichika smiled brightly from the corner of your eye. The grip of her hand tightened slightly, a silent prompt.

“A pleasure.” You parroted emotionlessly.

“The pleasure is mine. Mr. Itadori speaks highly of your family.” Yuko’s smile was kind. It didn’t make you hate her any less.

“I’m sure more than we deserve, he is complementary to a fault.” Ichika gave Yuuji a teasing look.

“You surely jest, Lady Okkotsu. I only give credit where credit is due.” His eyes went to your cousin only for a moment to smirk before he focused his attention back to Yuko.

The ring in your ears dulled slightly, enough for you to finally take in the woman before you instead of only looking at Yuuji. Her hair was simple, curled at the sides similarly to yours and tied in a low bun at the nape of her neck, though she had no adornments in her hair nor at her neck or ears. Her dress was of a quality far beyond what her family could afford, and you recognized it immediately.

“What a lovely dress.” You commented, right in the middle of whatever Yuko was saying to your cousin. The other three members of your small circle turned to you, a range of confused expressions on their faces at your interruption.

Yuko recovered exceptionally well, smiling politely as she looked at the skirt. “Thank you. I didn’t have anything suitable for tonight since it was such short notice. Mrs. Nanami leant me one of her dresses.”

You knew this already. The style was slightly older, but not enough to be outdated. The dress itself was hard to forget, however. Monica Nanami had worn the dress during another party at the Gojo residence in London many years ago. The white muslin gown gathered just below the bust, the light, flowy skirts skimming the floor. The overskirt was intricately embroidered at the edges in gold and multi-colored thread which matched the embroidery along the vee neckline and edges of the bodice. The women at the party had fawned over the wearable piece of art the whole night, and Monica had given every opportunity to praise her husband and his taste. Mr. Nanami’s ears had turned permanently red from all the attention, both from the women at the party and from husbands who gave him a good-natured ribbing for making the rest of them look subpar. It had been a fun, intimate night. You had wondered if one day, Yuuji would do the same for you when you married. If you would married.

That dream was disappearing faster with every second Yuuji looked at Yuko with all the adoration in the world.

“How fortunate then, your stay with the Nanami family.” You took a small drink from your lemonade glass, watching her over the rim.

Her smile became confused but she hid it as best she could. “Yes, I suppose so.”

She looked at Yuuji. He gave her a reassuring smile and looked at you, his brow slightly furrowed, a question in his eyes. You were behaving erratically, you knew this. But you just didn’t care anymore. It was clear your goal, why you had agreed to this flirtatious farce with Megumi Fushiguro, why you sacrificed your own beliefs for the mere chance Yuuji Itadori might notice you, was for naught.

You were never even a consideration to him. Now, your pain would be everyone else’s.

“They take great pride in their charity work.” You continued. “Though your father must have known that, reaching out to such an old friend for help.”

“(Y/N).” Ichika murmured your name as a warning. But you wouldn’t stop. You wouldn’t allow yourself to cry, and your anger needed a release. A barbed tongue was your only option.

“Mr. Nanami wouldn’t dare refuse. And how fortunate that he brought his young, unattached daughter with him knowing Nanami’s son would be in town for the season.” You pushed onward, even as Yuko’s face crumbled. “You must have known Mr. Itadori is the heir of his own fortune.” You made a point of looking between Yuuji and Yuko, then up and down at her dress. “Why else would you base yourself enough to wear another woman’s gown, if not to capitalize on the opportunity of a ball to sink your hooks into someone so far above your station?”

The unmasked pain you had caused in Yuko’s eyes should have made you feel something. But it didn’t. You wanted her to hurt. She was living what you had always wanted. What years of pining and waiting had never dimmed. Yet she came into town, and within weeks Yuuji was at her beckon call. You hated it. You hated yourself. Why had you never realized your feelings would never be reciprocated? Why now was it necessary for this innocent girl to suffer? This pain could not be leashed.

“That’s enough, Miss (l/n).” Yuuji hissed. His eyes flashed with an anger you had never seen before as he glared at you. But you found it was not as devastating as it would have been five minutes ago. Let him feel the pain you felt as well, seeing his love hurt. He should have been aware of your desire. You didn’t try to hide it. Yet it was never even addressed. You didn’t mean enough for even an acknowledgment.

Yuko forced a stiff smile and curtsied, murmuring an apology before she practically sprinted away. Yuuji didn’t give you a second look as he chased after her, which made the chasm in your chest widen further.

“What is wrong with you, (y/n)?” Ichika demanded once they were both gone. Her eyes were hard as well, though her expression could have been interpreted as genuine concern. “You’re not cruel, what was that about? You don’t even know Miss Ozawa.”

Her grip was still on your arm. It was too tight. The room was too hot. Your heart in your chest was pounding too hard. And the tears you had been fighting back since Yuuji and Yuko approached you seemed to be coming one way or another.

You wrenched yourself free from her grasp and ran out of the room. The entire house felt too cramped, though it was one of the largest in the city. You found the patio doors and pushed your way outside running into the garden to find a secluded spot.

The fresh air should have improved your breathing, but as you finally found a secluded alcove your gasping only grew worse. You had never felt this kind of pain before. You were young when your mother died. You hardly remembered her face, let alone her voice. The grief you may have felt as a child had been forgotten with time as time blunted whatever pain you experienced. If it was anything like the hurt that currently clawed through your chest, you were glad you didn’t remember.

As a slight breeze blew through the garden, you realized that at some point in your solitude, you had begun to cry. You wipes furiously at your cheeks to rid them of the wet tracks on your skin, but more took their place. Your gasps had turned to sobs, so forceful you bent over and braced your arms on the stone bench in front of you. Your tears stained the cool limestone beneath your hands as you failed to stop the emotions pouring out of you. You were not like this, you weren’t emotional. You thought you were in control of yourself, but events from earlier and your current outburst proved otherwise.

Had you been wrong all along? Had you confused Yuuji’s kindness as possible interest on your part? You had thought with time, maybe he would see you as more than his friend’s cousin and would pursue you as the other men in the ton had. You had ignored them all for him, and when he did not show his affection you became desperate enough to enter this farce with Megumi Fushiguro. But was it a farce? Megumi, though distant, had shown he cared in his own way throughout your arrangement. Was he interested in truly courting you? And why was it that a small part of you wished he was? You clutched your head in your hands. No. You couldn’t think of this now. That couldn’t be a possibility. Megumi made it clear your arrangement was purely for gain. And you loved Yuuji, you would have him.

“Y/N.”

You looked to the entrance of your little alcove. Megumi stood there, his face obscured by the darkness. The sight of him made you tears begin anew. He was only a reminder of what you had done and how it was all seemingly for naught. You wiped furiously at your cheeks to rid them of the wet tracks on your skin but they were replaced with new ones. You would not allow Megumi to see you cry.

“Not now, please not now.” You sobbed. “Leave me be.”

“What happened?” He stepped further into the small garden. “Are you well?”

“No!” You shouted. “I’m obviously not well! Now why don’t you go back inside and leave me to crumble in solitude instead of reveling in it?”

His face was infuriatingly passive as always, and you could see every inch of it now in the moonlight. Something about it set a change in you, and your sorrow morphed into anger.

“So, are you satisfied?” You straightened to face him, your chin held high. “You were right. My plan didn’t work. Yuuji is now seemingly completely and utterly enamored with Miss Ozawa. He does not desire my company. And now, all my work is for naught and my reputation will be ruined.”

“I do not enjoy seeing you in pain, Miss (l/n).” Megumi’s face still did not change. He could at least pretend to care, but he did not. He never did.

“Oh, I am sure you do not!” You laughed mirthlessly. “You have only been telling me this whole time to set my hopes aside because Yuuji did not want me, that this plan was ridiculous, that it would never work. Well, you were right. Enjoy your victory and leave me in peace!”

“What victory?” He stepped closer so he was only feet away. He was angry now, you could see it in the way his brow was drawn and the hard set of his jaw. His green eyes sparked dangerously as speared you with his gaze. “Do you think I revel in this?”

“Yes! You were right, I was wrong. And I hate it!” The words were bubbling inside you, just as they had in the ballroom, and you couldn’t stop them even though you weren’t entirely sure you meant them, but you were hurting and you wanted someone else to hurt too. “I hate you!”

“Do you?” He moved closer, crowding your space even as you stepped back until you were almost chest to chest. If you breathed too deeply, your bosom would brush against the lapels of his jacket. Your breath quickened to prevent any part of you touching him. The look in his eyes was dangerous, challenging as a cruel smile spread across his face. You were grateful for it. You didn’t want his pity. You wanted a release to this anger, and you knew he could provide it. “Please, Miss (l/n), enlighten me. Why do you hate me?”

“I hate how you never smile. I hate how you act like you’re above any social interaction and avoid everyone at all costs. I hate how you pretend you dislike something I know you truly enjoy so as not to give someone the satisfaction that they know something about you. I hate how you look someone up and down and you give them that indolent smile like you know something oh so devious and they’ll never know it, because who could ever be as clever or even compare to the great Megumi Fushiguro?” You spat.

“Is that so?” Your chests were touching now after he stepped forward, but you would not back down. He had tried to hold the upper hand this whole arrangement, but no longer. There was nothing left for you to lose. You had already lost Yuuji, though did you ever really have him in the first place? The thought caused the gaping hole in your chest to widen, the pain renewed. You could not hold onto this. It needed an outlet, and it stood before you.

“It is!” You yelled in his face though he did not flinch.

“Good.” Before you could blink, his large hands were cupping your face, his fingers lacing through your hair. You barely registered the intimacy of his touch because a breath later, he surged forward and planted a kiss harshly on your lips.

You started at his touch and his brazen action. Even if you were to attempt to retreat his arm has already encircled you, keeping you held to him as his lips commanded your own. But you didn’t want to pull back

It was the events of the night, you were sure of it. There was no other reason why your arms had found their way around his neck encouraging him. You were hurting, his touch filled the gaping hole in your chest just a little more. To know someone wanted your affection, or at least your touch. You were desirable. Why didn’t Yuuji see that?

You’re lying. A small voice inside you crowed as Megumi slanted his mouth over yours, deeping your kiss after the placement of your arms around him showed you weren’t resisting his advances. This wasn’t just because you were hurting, that you needed another’s touch. You had found yourself wondering over the past several weeks as you spent more and more time with the dark-haired man who was now running his tongue along your bottom lip, what it would feel like to touch him, to kiss him. To have this arrangement between you be truthful, rather than a ruse to spur your true target into action. What would it be like for Megumi to hold your hand and smile, to send you flowers sincerely instead of keeping up appearances? Was there even a possibility that he felt that way? As his tongue explored your mouth and you reciprocated in kind, albeit clumsily, maybe it could be true.

This feeling was different. There was a coiling deep in your belly, growing tighter as Megumi’s large hand covered one of your breasts and gently squeezed, finding your nipple through the layers of fabric and teasing until it was a hard nub. You gasped against his mouth at the jolt of pleasure that shot to your core and arched into his touch. This was wrong. You were with a man unchaperoned in the dimly-lit gardens. He was touching you inappropriately, and yet you wanted more. This was an extraordinary sensation, one you never would have thought would come at the hands of Megumi. Why was he expressing such outright desire when you were certain he tolerated you at best?

When Megumi’s hand left your breast you almost whimpered at the loss. It traveled lower down your body, tracing your silhouette over your dress, squeezing any soft place it landed until it was finally behind your knee. You wondered what he was planning, why would his hands stray so far down? It was then he hoisted your leg up so it was around his waist and you were balancing on your other foot. You gasped at your sudden unsteadiness and clung to him more tightly to prevent from falling. Megumi had no time to spare. He attacked your mouth again, commanding your lips for only a brief moment before he broke away again and started kissing down your neck. A whine escaped from you while he sucked on your pulse point then licked up the column of your throat, tasting the salt on your skin.

“Megumi.” You almost didn’t recognize your own voice as you moaned his name. His head snapped up at the explicit sound, green eyes flashing with a fire that matched the one growing in your stomach. The prospect of what burns that fire could cause almost scared you. Almost.

A loud crash caused you both to look over to the entrance of your small hideaway, still clinging to each other like monkeys. You couldn’t bear to let go yet. One of the small statues flanking the arched hedge entrance had fallen, its head broken off as it hit the ground. It was the force which caused the statue to fall in the first place that made you and Megumi both start in horror.

Yuuji stood at the entrance, his hand outstretched like he had tried to stop it from falling but had been too late. His eyes, however, were fixed on the pair of you and your sordid embrace. You wished you could discern the expression on his face. Shock, obviously. But there was something else behind his eyes. You didn't have a further opportunity for study as he had turned and was running back the way he came before you had finished your breath.

“Yuuji!” Megumi had released you and started running after him, pausing just for a moment to raise his hand in a ‘wait’ sign to you, and he was gone as well.

You didn’t allow yourself to wait. You couldn’t. Realization was setting coldly into your bones now at what you had done and what the repercussions would be if anyone were to find out. You were ruined. What would become of you now? Your uncle and aunt had graciously taken you in and treated you like one of their own to give you the opportunity of a life you never would have never been offered, had you lived with your father. And now, you had taken their generosity and spat on it. Their investment in you was now for naught.

Your hands shook as you smoothed your hair just enough to be presentable before you ran out of the gardens, around the house and to the carriages waiting out front. People would speak of your absence. It was certain their tongues were already wagging at your outburst against Yuko in the ballroom, but it didn’t matter. All you cared about was getting back home and hiding, Maybe then, you would wake up and find this was all a cruel dream.

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