#to always like and engage with my friends' muses | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

daze4all · 1 month

Text

7 Days Week HSR Sugar Daddies Series Part 2 In Progress Imagine Drabbles

Fake Fiance! Sunday, Artist! Argenti. , Childhood Friend! Jing Yuan

Previously Part 1 Monday- Hot Teacher! Ratio, Sugar Daddy! Aventurine, Yandere! Blade

Part 3 Pending: Dan Heng, Loucha, Boothill

Sneak Peak Snippets

Thursday-Tricked! Dan Heng x Maid : Prank Call Gone Wrong (TBA)

Friday- Fake Fiance! Sunday x Reader

Saturday- Artist Argenti x Muse! Reader

Sunday- Sugar daddy/childhood friend! Jing Yuan

Reader hired as a :

Friday- Sunday x Fake! Fiance! Reader - Thank God It’s Friday (TGIF also just thought funny not make him Sunday)

Yandere! Sunday especially likes adorning you himself carefully selecting what jewelry and outfit he thinks you look best in. No matter the cost having expensive elegant tastes.

You are on his arm as his partner to important family functions so that no one else tries to wrest control from him by foisting an unwanted engagement

“You do a bit too much as fake fiancé” you once teased remembering him this was just a job contract.

“For it to believable. The family must believe I fell heads over heels to bring in an outsider” Yandere! Sunday smoothly explains dabbing your mouth with a napkin and leaning close to whisper in turn in your ear.

Fake! Fiancé! Sunday was kind and polite always a gentleman but that kindness only masked his sadistic side that he let loose around you .

Yandere! Sunday worshiped you in bed and expected you to obey and worship him in turn.

“Forget the rest and stay with me in this dream” A kiss to your hand charming you with his gentlemanly act as Yandere! Sunday’s golden eyes stared at you pleading. The insinuation was heavy so you would be at his mercy alone.

“Don’t worry. No matter how much you are sullied I will still take you. I’ll always forgive you darling” Yandere! Fiance! Sunday would coo and promise stroking your hair.

Saturday – Argenti – Artist! Argenti x Muse!/Model! Reader

Paint me like One of your French Girls

How You Met: A Muse for Artist Argenti

Daily Life as a Couple

Boyfriend! Argenti likes to take you shopping design you up and pampering you with makeup. applying the make up.

“For whenever you smile you bloom like a rose” he promised fervently an inneoct courtly knightly behavior cheesy in embarrassing you into blushing. While another part of you worried how devoted he was to you.

For Boyfriend! Argenti occasionally wearing a matching outfit is a must.

Romantic Argenti favorite presented on valentines with a crimson tie for him from you and red rose ornament for your hair. Argenti tucked the rose gallantly behind you ear “For you my love” his eye fervent and devoted before kissing you passionately.

Knight!Argenti will be the one by the end with day sendoff “ If you ever settle down choose me my dear. “ with a fair kiss to the inside of your wrist.

Knight!Argenti while overdramatic at time his love was sweet and sincere and sometimes that scared you the most….

Sunday- Jing Yuan -Lazy Sunday Mornings

Childhood! Friend! Reader

Jing Yuan always knew you best, as your childhood friends but then you grew up and went your separate ways until he found you again.

Daily Lazy Sunday with Jing Yuan

Dates consist of the zoo, park, or library meandering but lazy days in bed are best seeing you tired out

Soft!Jing Yuan watches you meaningfully as you go about your lazy Sunday morning routine of pouring yourself a cup and fixing breakfast. Hand round your waist his chin propped on you maybe a quickie on the kitchen counter if you are up for it a big puppy dog wanting attention from you.

Mimi the snow lion padding to snuggle by your side to wamr your feet or jumping to make room for her during movie nights.

“I’ll treat you right so just rest” much better than the others is left unsaid but implied in his possessive golden gaze that consumes you with so much love. You are almost tempted, but you have urges to fulfill, and even his love cannot stop it.

Sugar Daddy! Jing Yuan goading you with words. “Does this feel good? Tell me? Sweet and slow, long and languid, or rough and hard, Your choice dear” he offers sweetly as he hovers predatorially above you.

Side note Reader Background might be….

-Seeking out the strongest men to renew your dying race as you were known to have very low birth rates

- Doing this to pay back a debt she has from her fallen planet.

- Possibly cursed by the Propagation or a Aeon of Lust Luxuria to constantly hunger for sex to live?

-Nymphomaniac or a person who just like sex with many men and that’s her lifestyle so why not make money off it lol

Snippets for now

Still writing full stories

A/N: Loucha I forgot, I guess because I could only do seven days of the week. Also, Gallagher not sure cuz of recent spoilers and Boothill not sure his character yet since so new.

But might write them separately since I had only 7 days of the week to assign. May redo with next set or as separate pieces. Feel like I can only edit/write only 3 pieces at a time lol

and lost dan hengs so have to rewrite it ugh.....

561 notes · View notes

themuse-if · 4 months

Text

DEMO (TBA) | Cast Profiles | Cast Interviews-Round 1 | Cast Interviews-Round 2 | The Muse: Spotify

The Muse is a 18+ slice of life interactive fiction novel set at NYU focusing mostly on the art departments in the Steinhardt and Tisch schools. Inspired by my love for shows and movies like Felicity, Fame (the show), Skins UK, and Center Stage. This will not be an accurate depiction of school life at NYU, I'll be taking lots of creative liberties.

Content Warnings: explicit language, sexual themes, substance use, violence, mention of SA

You come from a family of artists and art lovers. Your mother is a passionate curator for a small gallery in the city and your father is a sculptor and painter with a very dedicated cult following. They met when they were just starting out and have built a lovely life for themselves and their two children, you and your older brother Cameron.

Your parents have always been super supportive of you and your brother’s dreams and ambitions. They were a great source of encouragement and guidance for your brother on his path to discovering his goal to become a game designer and you on your path to become whatever you choose.

Growing up surrounded by such creativity just so happened to inspired you to want to create something of your own.

Now that you’ve graduated high school it’s time for you to head off to university! You’ve decided to leave the mid sized city that you call your hometown, and go to the big city NYC! You’ll be attending NYU more specifically, but you won’t be making this move alone you’ll be attending with your best friend Maxine!

What will you discover in your university life?

Will you solely focus on schoolwork or wind up in the raging party scene?

Will you explore new creative endeavors or solely focus on honing your craft?

With so much going on will you even have the time to possibly find your muse, or maybe even become someone else’s?

Design your mc from clothing style to physical appearance to pronouns, gender identity, name, looks, and more.

Choose 1 of 9 majors that grant you different classes with new students and professors: (Studio Arts, Dance, Drama, Photography and Imaging, Jazz Studies, Songwriting, Recorded Music, Collaborative Arts, Dramatic Writing )

Curate your MCs personality and how they react to all the drama and excitement university life has to offer. Style your MC’s dorm room and their aesthetic style.

Navigate the cliques and scenes to figure out where your MC fits in. Maybe you're a social butterfly and you just float from one social group to another!

Engage in a romance with 1 of 10 characters. 5 female/male gender selectable and 5 gender set characters. And 2 poly routes one with The Rebel Rejects and one with The Exes (Faye and Karla).

Choose one of three part time jobs to give you a little extra spending money for things like spring break and birthday gifts for your new friends.

Follow The Muse through your MC’s freshman and sophomore years. Junior and senior year will come much later in Book Two of The Muse. The third and final book in The Muse series will cover the start of MC's new life after graduation.

Roxanne/Robbie Sawyer: (f/m) The lead singer and guitarist of The Rebel Rejects. Ro is everything you would want in a lead singer cool, charismatic, and super talented. Don’t let their dazzling aura intimidate you though because though they may have a raging wild side they can also be extremely down to earth.

Joleen/Johnny Nielsen: (f/m) The drummer of The Rebel Rejects. Jo is the oddball of the band with a sunny exterior and twisted flower child past. They may be a sweet boho bimbo with a heart of gold, but there’s a lot more that lies behind those blue green eyes.

Delphine/Desmond Hartley: (f/m) The bassist for The Rebel Rejects. De is the super glue propelling the group forward. With high expectations from her parents, and dreams that soar even higher, success is the only option.

Rina/Ren Fukushi: (f/m) R is the best ballet dancer in this incoming freshman class, and no one would ever think to say otherwise. They’re cold and closed off, if it isn’t about ballet then they don’t want to hear it.

Everly/Everett Thompson: (f/m) Eve is a triple threat. Singing, dancing, acting they can do it all. They hope to complete their EGOT before they turn 40.

Karla Reyes: (she/her) Karla is a sophomore at NYU studying Studio Arts. Their favorite medium is watercolor on canvas. They’ve dabbled with sculpting and ceramics...until they broke up with their ex, Faye, and can’t stand to be in the same studio with them.

Faye Winters: (she/they) Fae is every bit the ethereal being they seem to be, and just as flighty. She is a sophomore majoring in dance with a minor in studio arts. She has this effortless charm and beauty that extends to her art whether its her dancing or her sculptures.

Sebastien Auclair: (he/him) Sebastien is in his third year of university, he’s an exchange student from the Paris College of Art. He is studying photography and imaging. Sebastian loves Paris, but he is excited for this change of scenery.

Maxine Matthews: (she/her)Max is your best friend in the world! Your parents are friends so you were destined to best pals since birth, thank god you actually like each other or all those shared family functions would have been really awkward. Max is funny and always has great commentary for every show or movie that you watch together. Which is why you weren’t surprised when they decided to major in dramatic writing. Some people think that you’re too close. They wonder how is it possible that you could be just friends.

Silas Walker: (he/him) Silas is your RA. As your Resident Advisor he's super helpful and friendly. You have question about the best study spots, bad professors, how to use the subway, well he's got answers. He keeps all his advisees at arms length because everyone knows RAs can't canoodle with their advisees. And that just makes it all the more enticing.

#interactive fiction #dashingdon #twine if #twine interactive fiction #interactive novel #interactive if #choice of games #choice script #choose your own adventure #choose your own story #twine game #twine story #if: intro #if: themuse #interact if #interact-if #if wip

554 notes · View notes

504py · 7 days

Text

Scalding-Hot Steel - Knight!Leon Kennedy/Reader

He finally lets you try on his armor.

I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG TO GET OUT!!! 😭😭😭😭🙏🙏 i got caught in a bit of a slump, but i hope this can make up for it, and that this was worth the wait!! the chapter after this might be the finale, so i may take even longer to get to it. nonetheless, thank you to everyone who's been reading till now, and thank you all for 600 followers!!!

Historical inaccuracies, I suck at old-timey speak, reader referred to as "my lady" but no other gendered terms or descriptors besides that, no use of Y/N, Leon is a total puppy, mutual pining.

1, 2, 3

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

You're unsure what it was, but following that interaction at the library, you and Leon have grown closer.

This upgrade in your relationship has made you be able to relax more in his presence, now that you see him as more friend than foe. Well, to call him a foe was a gargantuan exaggeration, but you did find him intimidating. You still do sometimes.

Even if you've backed off and retired your old obsessive habit of being way too observant about every single little detail about Leon, you can't help but still notice how it seems like your roles have been swapped.

Leon has begun to follow you around like a dog, to put it simply.

You swear it's not just you fixating on him, you really have started seeing him around much more often. He's started waiting by your door to greet you a good morning with a small smile, before heading to the courtyard. During lunchtime, he's begun to engage in smalltalk with you, talking about mundane things like the weather, or your schedule for the day. He's especially chatty if he learns he's going to be part of it. At night, when his usual routine would be to simply see you off at your bedroom door and say goodnight, now he sits by your bedside and talks about anything 'till it lulls you to sleep. He'd be mortified if you knew how long he stayed after you've dozed off.

Leon has begun studying you, in return. He likes to think that he's observant, but that usually only applies to combat, or if he's been trained beforehand on the matter. With people, he's never really had much luck reading them, unless it's too obvious for it to even be called "observing."

Leon admires that about you, how keen your eyes always are. He wonders if you're as drawn into his quirks as he is with yours. If you were, he envies your ability to drink in information so tactfully. If the devil were in the details– in your details, Leon would love to become a sinner.

His attempts in learning more about you were painfully amateurish. Even if Leon were a great tutor, a great protector, a great fighter, he tends to be terrible at holding conversation.

"My lady–"

"I told you to stop calling me that." You sigh and roll your eyes playfully.

"Sorry." He huffs your name bashfully, drawing closer towards you. You look up at him, and he drinks in the sight before you're squinting slightly at the rays of sun attacking you from behind his head.

"Please step into the shade, milady." He insists, holding his hand out for you to place yours on, before leading you underneath a large tree.

"There you are again, Sir Leon." You laugh, resting your back against the smooth bark of the tree.

"Hey, I asked you to forgo the titles as well." He muses, noticing you were still straining your eyes slightly, so he steps in front of the sun. It makes your face relax, and once again, he realizes keeping you happy and protecting you brings him fulfillment like no other.

"Just doing the same as you are, Sir Leon, since you won't drop mine." Chuckling, you sit down on the plush grass and wait for him to follow.

He smiles and breathes out a laugh, setting down the picnic basket in front of you. Leon wants to sit beside you, but then his back wouldn't be there to shield you from the sun. He sits where he is.

"Alright, I'm sorry." He says, almost jokingly. Saying your name out loud makes him feel shy, like saying the name of a god. It feels almost forbidden to be molded by his tongue, but you always invite him to say it, and the intimacy makes his heart race every single time he dares to. He mumbles it quietly again, getting a high from it.

You look beautiful. He thought that from the day he first met you, but the closer you two have gotten, the more and more he finds himself thinking that, and even more does it make his heart ache in his chest. In the shade under this tree, windy summer day illuminating the soft curves of your face so enchantingly, Leon can't help but look like a bit of an idiot drinking the sight in.

"Are you feeling hot?"

His eyes look at your lips first, ears registering your voice second. He closes his mouth, realizing it's been hanging slightly agape.

"I, uh, no– no, I'm feeling alright, my–"

You tilt your head down, and send him a playful warning glare. He stops in his tracks and looks down for a second, smiling breathily.

"I'm alright."

"Really? Your head tilts to the right this time, and Leon's heart skips a beat at how adorable he finds the gesture. "That armor you're wearing looks pretty hot. Can't you take it off?"

"It's only chainmail." He reassures, taking off his helmet and combing a hand through his flattened hair, "The helmet is a little troublesome, though."

You chirp, "I can imagine." before you open up the picnic basket in front of you and start rummaging through it.

Leon watches you munch on some biscuits for a bit, before his eyes flit back to the helmet by his side. "...Some time ago, you said you had wanted to try on my armor."

He says this mid-chew, so you hurry to get your food down so you can respond, "Oh, you remembered?" You wipe away a few crumbs from your lip, Leon finds the act charming, and it makes him smile softly. You continue, "Mm, yes, I did. Why bring it up?"

"Well," Leon holds up his helmet, "Would you like to try it on now?"

The way your eyes light up can't help but force a boyish, giddy grin on Leon's face. It feels strange and his cheeks feel weird, he can't really remember the last time he's smiled this hard. It does scare him a little, how foreign it is, but the feeling is so, so welcomed.

"Of course! Are you joking?" You put the snacks in your hands away, and move the basket to the side so you can inch closer to Leon. The feeling of your legs touching make butterflies take flight in his stomach.

"I-I'm not– I–" He's sputtering and he finds his brain struggling to function at being so flustered.

"Calm down, Leon." You laugh heartily. He wonders if you know the effect you have on him, but with how darn observant you are, he's sure that you're well aware what you do to him. It makes his cheeks burn red and glare at you with a kittenish frown. He wishes he could be more suave about his feelings towards you.

"I will once you stop making me so flustered." Leon huffs, hoping that wasn't too bold of a thing to say. His cheeks burn deeper. His eyebrows lower at your surprised look.

"Do I now?"

"W-Well– See, you're doing it again!" Leon groans, letting go of his helmet to hide his flushed face in his broad hands and whine. His ears turn red at the sound of your hearty laugh.

"Well, it's only fair that I do it to you too."

"Too?"

Your face warms, realizing what you've revealed. Leon grins, elated at the mere implication that he makes you feel the same way.

"Y-You've noticed, haven't you? In the library, you asked why I felt so uncomfortable around you."

"You didn't exactly answer... I thought it was because you disliked me."

"...Now you know that I clearly don't. We get along rather well, don't we?"

He's beaming at you, and it's not just the sun shining on him, it looks like he's literally glowing with serenity and love.

"We do, my lady."

"Leon!" You interject him calling you by your formal title.

He can't seem to let the title go, because in his mind, it's more of a pet name than a title. A term of endearment. Leon clings to the "my" part of the title, he liked the tiniest hint that you could be his. My lady, my lover, my sweetheart, mine.

Leon giggles, and he pauses for a moment after, realizing he can't remember the last time he's let out such a noise. He gazes upon you in awe, amazed at how you were able to bring out this side of him.

"What is it?"

Leon blinks, getting drawn out of his haze and shaking his head dismissively. He keeps his soft gaze on you, though.

The pads of his fingers rest on his helmet, feeling the ridges of it. Maybe it was too rough for someone he deemed as delicate as you. His eyes lower and rest on the piece of armor, noting how it's covered in scratches and dents, how it isn't so shiny as he'd like for it to be. It washed over him like a small wave of shame, thinking it not worthy for someone of your standing to don. Not even socially, but the standing that you held within his mind and his heart. Leon never thought he'd be insecure over such a trivial thing.

"So... Can I try it on, my good Sir?"

Leon lets out a little snort at what you call him, freezing and making an embarrassed face at the undignified noise, but then he he sees how happy it makes you– perhaps how happy he himself makes you, and he feels at ease.

"Yes, of course, Your Royal Highness."

You playfully slap his bicep at the absurd title. "I am not royalty!"

"You are to me." He mutters as he adjusts his sitting position, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

He's kneeling in front of you, being mindful of your hair or anything on your clothing the helmet could snag on, gently lowering it before the hard metal rests on the top of your skull.

Leon sits back down, and can't help a cheesy, tight-lipped smile when he sees how awkwardly it fits you. It's crooked, and it simply is too rugged in contrast to your usual attire and demeanor.

"...How is it?"

"Wow, I can barely see. This is amazing!" Your hands rest on the sides of the helmet to try and stabilize it, yet it still tips over off balance after adjusting. Leon lets out a snort, and this time, he's only half-embarrassed.

"How do you fight in this? I can't see anything."

Leon wordlessly pulls the visor up. His heart pounds at the sight of your flushed face and messy hair.

"Ohh. What if an arrow lands in my face, though?"

"I can assure you, you won't be getting into that sort of situation anytime soon."

"You seem very sure of yourself, Leon."

"Of course, it's my duty to protect you."

"...Do you enjoy it?"

"What? Protecting you?"

You nod, "Yes."

"I look forward to it every day."

The two of you share a wide smile, beaming at the intimacy of this interaction, and you two have never felt closer. I want to kiss you, is all Leon can think about.

Right as he was mindlessly leaning in, you let out a small laugh for whatever reason, and Leon is forever grateful that you do, because it snaps him out of his trance, and he feels so stupid for trying to make a move on you.

"That's good. I don't think armor suits me very much anyways." You clumsily take his helmet off of your head, and rest it by your hip.

"I'm glad to have you protecting me, Leon. I'm so happy to have you by my side every day, not even as a knight, but as a companion." You say this so demurely, looking down at your lap with a cherubic expression on your face that has his heart pounding in his strong chest.

Then, you just had to look up at him, and meet his lovestruck stare, and maybe he's gone crazy from how flustered he's been all day, but he swears he can see the same look in your eyes.

Leon throws out whatever he was last thinking straight out the window, encases your wrists in his hands, and kisses you.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

317 notes · View notes

flor4de4amor · 10 days

Note

aviator!abby you say…👀

i did say aviator!abby… screamed it from the rooftops even 🤭 she stays heavvyyy on my mind.

click for palestine!

read before engaging with my works and acc

warnings: slight nsfw/smut at the end.

aviator!abby who has a deep-rooted one-sided rivalry w ellie, who literallyyyyy just wants to be her friend. she comes home and grumbles in your arms about her. "she's just so annoying baby!" she whines for the hundredth time about her coworker.

aviator!abby who's a dog person, but puts up with your evil cat just cause she loves you.

aviator!abby who can do more pushups than anyone on her squad. three fingers. two fingers. one finger even. she’s got them outranked without a doubt.

aviator!abby who always comes home exhausted. heart heavy, hands dirty, boots half unlaced by the time she’s in the door. she's eager to lay in bed with you.

you greet her at the door. she always kisses your temple first, slides to your warm cheeks, and kisses you softly on the lips. you know she’s had a long day.

“cooked your favorite,” you muse softly against the side of her mouth.

“how do you know me so well mrs.anderson?” she grins, dominant hand coming up to the nape of your neck.

you shrug, giggling against her chest, “years of practice maybe.”

“yeah, my baby’s the real mvp.” she smiles into another kiss.

aviator!abby who always has her hair in the most ridiculously tight braids and buns. she’s quite creative with her hair, and is always eager to try a new style on you for practice. but, her craft works against her towards the end of a long shift. deep migraine settling in her skull, and she knows it’s not gonna feel better until she’s sprawled in your lap while you undo her hair. your fingertips scratching at her scalp while she sighs and mewls at your lighthearted touch.

aviator!abby who’s totally obsessed with you. she's has got pictures of you in: her wallet, dashboard, phone case, on her locker mirror, even has her phone wallpaper. she’s got your kiss print on her helmet. made sure it stuck with some clear tape and lots of loving.

aviator!abby who’s somewhat quiet, but incredibly cocky. forget cocky, she’s so competitive. a calm game of monopoly between the two of you turns into to her cackling as she bulldozes you into debt. you roll your eyes at her antics cause it’s literally just monopoly, with her wife, but she treats it like war.

aviator!abby who loves taking care of her little wife. goes absolutely out of her way to make your life easier. problem with the car? actually, the oil hadn’t been changed in like forever and a half. don’t worry though, abby’s fixed it! you want a new dresser built? abby’s done it in half an hour. she made sure you timed her for proof. someone’s giving you a hard time? yeah, don’t let abs find out she’s gonna rip them a fucking new one. you call her an american bully like the dog breed, for how she’s always by your side. going out of her way to be overprotective.

aviator!abby who’s insecure. she’s in a male dominated field, constantly undervalued, and disregarded. she’s built up a thick layer of protection and ego to protect herself. she spends all day being: mean captain abigail anderson who chews out her inferiors and can kill with looks alone. but when she comes home, all the sudden it’s like a flip switch. it’s “pretty abby,” “baby,” “darling don’t trip on the cat toys on the stairs!” “come to bed i’m tired,” abby.

aviator!abby who likes being in control during sex. she likes how each action pulls out a very needy reaction from you. if she pulls on your nipples with her calloused finger pads, you’ll whine and arch your back into her chest, as her bicep curls around your waist. if she presses kisses into your neck, and sucks on the skin leaving bruises, she knows it’ll make you cry her name. your nails finding their way to her shoulder blades while she tortures your neck, littering it with love marks. abby knows, that if she hits that sweet spot deep in you w her strap, you almost always cum. sweet cream coating the silicone right around the base, abby can’t help but lick her lips as she pulls out of you, eliciting a string of cursed complaints. she’d suck the member off to taste you herself. but it’s more exciting to pull you to your knees and tap your eager tongue with her tip, groaning as you swallow yourself. not because it feels good, but god you’re so pretty.

aviator!abby who loves praise so bad. she gets so wet when you call her pretty. she’ll rut against your palm as you whisper in her ear. telling her that she’s your only girl. that you want her. no, you need her. she melts at the way you kiss her biceps, bite her bottom lip gently, and look up at her with big doe eyes when you eat her out. she tries extra hard to be gentle with you. you’re her princess, she doesn’t wanna hurt you. but she can’t help herself when her hips rut into your tongue and her hands come to grip the base of your neck and the roots of your hair roughly. but she can’t help and darkly chuckle as you moan into her mound at the action. “my baby’s a dirty girl huh?” when you don’t reply she tugs your hair again, smirking as you lick feverishly at her clit. she removes her hand from the back of your neck and taps her pointer and middle finger against your cheek, “don’t you remember the rules babe? speak when spoken to. thought you were a good girl?” when you attempt to pull off her, she clicks her tongue snd uses her hold on your hair to keep you in place. “god you’re so bratty today.” she smiles to herself.

sigh, aviator!abby please i need you. need you so so so so bad.

im so stuck on what her callsign would be, what do yall think?

divider by: @ohdearlucifer

297 notes · View notes

sturn3 · 21 days

Note

can you do bfb!chris headcanons ? 😁

one of my fav tropes ever!! thanks for requesting chris, i've been meaning to write more of him! here you go!! thank you for requesting ✧ ﾟ୨ৎ*

🩰🦢🐚⋆｡ﾟ

bfb!chris, who always comes in nick's room to see you whenever you're over. being so annoying that nick always has to resort to kicking him out!

bfb!chris, who always gets you something from the store even when you don't ask!

bfb!chris, who paid attention to every little thing you did. like, playing with your jewelry (earrings, rings, necklaces) when you were nervous. like, when you matched your phone cases with your outfit or how you picked the tomatoes out of every food you got.

bfb! chris, that would fight nick with his life to get ahold of the aux, but would give it to you in a heartbeat if you asked. resorting matt and nick to look at each other on the rear view mirror with a knowing look.

bfb! chris, whose heart would melt when you fell asleep on HIS shoulder instead of nick's, while watching a movie.

bfb! chris, who would grab your phone and run away with it and hold it over his head so you wouldn't be able to reach it!

bfb! chris, who would always participate in your gossip sessions with nick. he'd shit talk every guy you ever mentioned.

bfb! chris, who dies a little inside whenever you push his hair out of his face, when you hold his hand, or when you share your food with him.

bfb! chris, who would see you relaxed on the couch and pick you up on his shoulder ,carry you to the pool, and throw you in! (not smart on his behalf.)

bfb! chris, who would have nick yelling at him because of how much he asks about you.

bfb! chris, who comes running to pick you up from a failed date, with a guy he had warned you about.

bfb! chris, who gets you ice cream and gives you his jacket while he lets you rant all night about how that asshole was so self-absorbed that he didn't ask a single question about you and only talked about himself. chris couldn't comprehend that you got so beautiful for your date and didn't get appreciated.

bfb! chris, who finally told nick about the crush he had on his best friend. something nick knew from the start, so he couldn't help but laugh at how long it took him to confess.

bfb! chris, who stumbled onto you in the dark kitchen when you'd gone for a late night snack. making light conversation that turned into a couple of hours of you both sitting on the kitchen counter and munching on whatever snacks you could find. waking up matt ,who eventually came down to scold you for being so loud.

bfb! chris, who finally asks you on a date.

bfb! chris, who took notes of your ideal perfect date. dressing up, coming to pick you up, getting you flowers, complimenting you, opening doors for you, engaging in conversation, and overall everything you wanted.

bfb! chris, who takes you to walk by the beach, the distant city lights reflecting on the water and making the scene look so dreamy. he couldn't find a more fitting moment for you guys to have your first kiss.

bfb! chris, who finally won you over.

my muse

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #spotify

245 notes · View notes

benedictscanvas · 1 year

Note

could you possibly do a benedict bridgerton friends to lovers fic with maybe some jealousy thrown in there? i adore your writing 🫶🏻

this request could not have come at a better time! i finally started my bridgerton rewatch recently and i can feel myself sparking with ideas yet again :) || 2k words, tw benedict is PINING & this is much more suggestive than my usual content, so 18+ please!

can't bear it - benedict bridgerton x reader

He looked bored. It was the first thing you noticed upon entering the ballroom and, in truth, it was often the first thing you noticed upon entering any ballroom. Over your years of friendship, it seemed you had a highly trained eye to seek him out amongst any crowd.

Just as your eyes strayed to him, as if he had similar training, his found you. What had been a dull stare at the ground to avoid any accidental eye contact with the Mamas scattered about the room quickly became a bright and excitable gaze locked to yours and you returned his slow-spreading smile with a rather unladylike grin.

"Hi," he mouthed, a grin of his own now twisting his features. You shook your head at him fondly, biting the inside of your cheek in a foolish attempt to stop your grin from growing any wider.

You were lucky to have a sister with whom your mother was preoccupied. It made it easy to hurry along the sides of the ballroom, exchanging nods with those you passed without stopping to greet them properly, to end up next to Benedict in record time.

You stood side by side, your usual routine, the backs of your hands inches apart but both facing outwards, as if surveying the rest of the room. Each one of your senses was entirely tuned into him as soon as you entered his presence, but it would not look as such to any onlookers.

"You'll start more rumours if you keep trying to communicate across such wide distances, Lord Bridgerton," you began, eyes fixed on the twirling couples so you didn't sneak a glance in his direction, "I thought we were attempting to rid ourselves of the clamours for our engagement."

"They can hardly read into a mere greeting," he responded easily, the words a mere murmur from the corner of his mouth, "I am a gentleman, as you know, and it would be impolite to simply ignore you."

"It would. You couldn't ignore me if you tried, anyway," you mused, "You'd get ever so bored."

"Always so self-important."

His mutter makes you bite back a smirk. Perhaps facing away from each other did nothing to hide your obvious conversation after all. Violet would be sure to notice, you knew, and may once again force Benedict into explaining the lack of proposal between the two of you.

In recent weeks, however, you had been struggling to explain it to yourself. Benedict was so dear to you, so utterly different to the men that regularly bored you, that once you had struck up such unlikely friendship, it seemed you valued it far too much to take it any further.

That, and there had never been any indication that Benedict himself saw marital potential within you. He was by no means a shy man. If he wanted you, you were quite sure he would have swept you off your feet by now.

And what a sweeping it would be, in those strong arms barely concealed by the crisp white shirt, billowing fabric...

"Good evening, Miss Y/L/N," a voice broke you from your spell, and your gaze accidentally drifted to Benedict in surprise before landing on the man interrupting you, "I believe I was promised a dance last we met, and I have heard you are a lady of your word."

You had to fight to keep yourself from frowning as you wracked your brains for his name. Unfortunately, you came up entirely empty and had no choice but to respond vaguely.

"I certainly would not like to gain a reputation for breaking promises," you smiled as taught, taking in handsome features and arms that didn't fill in a shirt nearly as well as Benedict's. You shook that thought from your head as you placed your hand in the unnamed stranger's own, "It would be an honour."

There was a splutter to your left, no doubt Benedict struggling to conceal his amusement at the sudden change in your tone. You allowed the man to lead you to the dance floor, turning subtly to send Benedict a wry smile but finding him staring right through you, expression anything but amused.

It wiped the smile clean off your own face.

His face was thunder throughout your dance, you noticed, however much you tried to focus on the pleasantly mundane conversation provided by your new partner. He really was quite good looking, if only you could appreciate it, but you were entirely preoccupied by Benedict's new foul mood and what could have caused it.

As the dance ended, you bowed politely to your captor, which was the only word that came to mind for him, and hurried in the direction of your favourite friend only to find him gone. This time you did frown, despite your mother's warnings of wrinkles, and picked up your skirt lightly as you slipped out of the ballroom.

Searching side room after side room proved useful. You soon found what could be described as a studio, with large windows to let the light in but currently only cast moonlight across the canvases spread around the room. The moon also lit up half of Benedict, who was stood at the window, staring out into the gardens.

"Be prepared to hide under that desk if anyone should come knocking," you said, startling him as you clicked the door shut behind you, "I shan't let you compromise my honour just because I have to chase after you when you're having a tantrum."

He glowered at you at the mention of a tantrum, the kind of look he usually levelled his brothers with rather than you. It was new territory and you found yourself quickly floundering.

"I did not bid you to follow me."

"And yet here I am," you reminded, taking a tentative step, "So why don't you put a stop to this strange mood and tell me what's wrong?"

"I'd rather not," he said curtly, his voice a little wrong as he turned to face you at last. Were those tears? "Please return to the festivities and I will join you momentarily."

You'd never seen Benedict cry before. In fact, you weren't sure you'd ever seen a man cry in your life, and the sight was terrifying. You wanted nothing more than to wrap him up in a long overdue embrace, but you kept yourself stock still in the middle of the room.

"Benedict..." you began, not sure where you were going despite the plea in your voice, "Please. I have never seen you like this."

He laughs, but its harsh.

"You must not be very observant then, Y/N."

"I beg your pardon?"

"In fact, you must be positively blind. Maddeningly so. How do you ever get anything done?"

You could feel tears of your own welling up in your eyes and blinked them away furiously. It was a great effort to keep your voice level when you spoke.

"I have known you to be many things, Bridgerton, but you are not cruel. I am sure I have done nothing to deserve such vehement insult, so-"

"I quite disagree," he interrupted, face fierce as he stalked over to you until he was right in front of you. Your chest heaved as you looked up at him, eyes wide, and felt the rise of his chest almost against your own, "You are observant, Y/N, and far from blind. It is your cruelty at fault here, not mine. It is yours."

He hissed the last word, pointing a finger at you so close to your chest that your head was spinning. His closeness was intoxicating, his scent crowding you out of enough oxygen and his words were making you lightheaded with panic.

"You're not making any sense," you murmured. His fingertips ghosted across the fabric of your dress near your hips, barely there, and nowhere near the skin underneath.

"You must see it," he mutters back, all gritted teeth and barely concealed restraint, "You must see that I worship you. That I always have."

Your inhale sounded more like a gasp. He shook his head above you, moving closer until his chin was pressed hard into your temple and you keened into the touch.

"I know you do not feel the same. And you are not obligated to, I swear it. But taunting me as you do. Playing with me only to dance with another..." he trails off, breath shuddering, and you can hear those tears in his voice again, "I can't bear it. Please, Y/N, I cannot bear it."

Neither can you.

You reach up and take his face in both hands, finding chiseled cheekbones and jawline, thumbs either side of his lips as you pull him until you can look up into his face again. Your gaze flickers across his face, and you wipe the tears from his face with shaking fingers.

"You're blind, Benedict," you say, leaning up on your tiptoes until your lips brush his, soft, like the ghost of his fingertips against fabric. You know what you want him to do and you need him to do it first, need him to take your lead and run away with it.

When he fists his hands in your dress at your hips and drags you into him, your prayers are answered.

He opens your mouth to his, still gentle but insistent, demanding more, more, more of you. You'd give him everything, right here, mainly because you know he'd never take it. He seems more than content with the here and now as it is, especially when your hands slip into his hair and he lets out a low grumble of a moan that you feel everywhere.

He's trying to pull you closer still when you break for air, gasping it in as the two of you pant into each other's mouths. He runs a hand down your hair, your neck, your arm, until he intertwines his fingers with yours, chases your lips for a peck, then another, then another. You meet him with a lazy grin.

"I dance with the Lords of the ton every ball," you breathe out, "I'd have noticed if you reacted like this every time."

Benedict was grinning too. He looked far more like himself when he did.

"They are usually old, ugly fools," he said, wrinkling his nose in distaste at the thought, "I always hate them having their hands all over you, but watching a young charming bastard who may just have a chance with you hold you as I have always dreamed of doing? It was enough."

"He never had a chance, my Lord," you assured, tracing his hairline, his earlobe just to see him shiver, "You are, as already accused, blissfully blind. Blind as a bat, I should think."

"Recent developments would suggest that to be true," he mused, glowing in a way he wouldn't usually when wrong. Then, all too quickly, his face briefly fell, "I truly apologise for all that I said to you, Y/N. There is no excuse, it was cruel."

"Hm," you agreed, "It was. Although, I can think of a multitude of ways you can make it up to me. Would you care to hear them?"

His eyes lit up at the realisation of your teasing. It was familiar, exactly what had drawn you both to each other time and time again. It was likely what would keep you together for eternity.

"I would like nothing more."

"How about I sit right up here..." you began lowly, moving to take a seat on the desk, "-you sit yourself underneath this desk, and we can have a conversation about compromising my honour."

You grinned at him wolfishly. It looked almost as if his eyes rolled back into his head already, but it wasn't long until he was kneeling in front of you, hands on the hem of your dress.

"And what would you know about compromising your honour, Miss Y/L/N?"

You ran a hand through his hair and used it to roughly yank him forward, until his nose was pressed to the fabric of your dress, exactly where you wanted him. It was easy to see it now, as he stared up at you in total awe: the way he worshipped you.

"Let's find out, shall we?"

if you’d like to request something, please do so here! i’d love to hear from you, sunflower <3

#benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict x reader #benedict bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction

2K notes · View notes

callsign-rogueone · 3 months

Text

like snow on the beach - r.g.

Ridoc Gamlyn x marked!reader a continuation of love at first fight, part of the Ridoc and Sweetheart series 🦋 words: 2.8k 🏷: FOURTH WING SPOILERS. she/her, feminine reader (wears a dress for Reunification Day, referred to as a girl/woman). mentions of canon character death, mentions of dissociation and anxiety. you have a panic attack, but someone helps you through it. titled after the tswift song!

“Don’t look now, but that guy from second squad is staring at you again,” Liam says quietly. “At your four.”

You twist in your seat as if cracking your back, looking over your shoulder. Sure enough, the cute curly-haired boy who had handed you the dagger you’d won from Jack Barlowe the other day is looking right at you.

“Say the word and I’ll handle him,” Imogen offers, picking at her nails with disinterest. She’s been itching for another fight since her last opponent tapped out after ten seconds.

The tall redhead sitting across from him notices you’re looking in their direction, and he kicks his friend under the table. He looks away quickly, starting a conversation with the rest of the group. Not discreet at all.

“Hurting anyone in Sorrengail’s squad wouldn’t go over well with Xaden. And look at him. He’s harmless,” you defend.

“He definitely doesn’t want to kill you,” Liam agrees. “He’s just smitten.”

You glance to your right again. He has his back turned now, still engaged in conversation with his friends, who are all laughing at something he said.

So he’s the class clown type. Interesting.

Imogen scoffs. “He can bark up that tree all he wants, but we all know it’ll never get him anywhere.”

--------------------------------------

And bark he does. You can’t shake the guy and his sunny personality. He’s everywhere you are, always having something to say, some shameless line to drop on you.

“If I make this bullseye, you have to let me take you out for dinner. There’s an amazing pasta place in town, you’ll love it.”

“No,” you say flatly.

“You don’t like pasta?” He asks, and you know that if you say you don’t, he’ll just offer something else.

“I do. But we’re not going out.”

He misses by an inch and a half anyway.

You pick up one of your own blades, weighing it carefully in one hand before pulling it back and letting sail. It lands to the left of his, in the dead center of the target.

He doesn’t look embarrassed in the slightest. “Alright, we’ll stay in and work on my aim. Just you, me, and a whole rack of knives. What do you say?”

“I’d say that putting us in a room with one weapon is a bad idea.”

He grins. “There’s just something undeniably sexy about a woman who wants to kill me.”

“I don’t want to kill you.” It’s true -- you have no ill will toward the guy, you just wish he’d quit while he’s behind.

“That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

You falter for a moment, thinking about it. You don’t think you’ve ever been objectively mean to him, just blunt in declining his advances.

“You’re moving your arm too much,” you say instead, yanking your dagger out of the wood panel, but leaving his where it stands, off-center. “Less in the elbow, more in the wrist.”

You don’t stick around to watch him try again.

--------------------------------------

Nothing seems to discourage him, not your dry responses nor being ignored completely. He’s determined to keep chipping away at your shell, but why?

“Is your dragon mated? I was thinking we could go on a double date. Aotrom’s an upstanding guy, she’d like him.”

You can’t even begin to imagine the conversations this guy must have with his dragon. Is he as weary of the boy’s enthusiasm as you are, or is he encouraging this behavior?

“I’d consider it if he wasn’t missing so many teeth,” Rhith muses. “But he’s a bit old for my taste.”

“Their personalities wouldn’t mesh at all,” you answer, as if you’re speaking about Rhith and Aotrom, and not you and Ridoc.

“I think if she gave him a chance, she’d change her mind,” he says slyly.

“I don’t date men under six foot.”

He mimes taking a knife to the chest. “You wound me, sweetheart. But I promise I can make up for it in all the ways that matter.”

“With that dazzling sense of humor?”

“I was going to make a dick joke, actually. But I’m glad you think I’m dazzling.”

You roll your eyes, leaving.

--------------------------------------

You have never considered yourself vain, but you’d spent a full minute admiring your reflection in the bathroom mirror before heading down for the festivities.

The formal dress looks incredible on you. Tight in all the right places, the cut highlights the muscle you’ve gained since starting the term at Basgiath, but it covers enough to still be somewhat professional.

You don’t need jewelry -- your rebellion relic is the perfect accessory, the black swirls forming the illusion of a lace sleeve up one arm, complimenting the black satin draped over your skin.

You’d even fixed up your hair for the occasion, freeing it from its usual sweaty braids and washing and drying it carefully, letting it fall over the exposed curves of your shoulders. Simple. Perfect.

Imogen hadn’t hesitated to hype you up when she saw you, her jaw dropping at the sight. “Holy shit, girl, you look hot. If you’ve ever wanted to fuck anyone in the quadrant, tonight would be the night to do it.”

You laugh. “I’ll be perfectly content to have a calm night. Some boring speeches, some fireworks, and then straight to bed.”

“Suit yourself,” she calls, headed off.

“Someone should tell Amari that she’s missing an angel.”

You don’t need to turn to know who it is, but you look over your shoulder at him anyway.

Ridoc continues to wax poetic, a lazy smile on his face. “You are a goddess among men. The kind of woman bards write songs about and men go to war over.”

“How many drinks have you had?”

“None,” Sawyer answers for his friend, sounding like he could use one himself. “This is just the way he is.”

Ridoc agrees, grinning. “Stone cold sober, gorgeous. I want to remember this sight forever.”

You laugh at his bold absurdity, and the light, clear sound goes straight to his heart.

He beams even brighter. “You laughed. That’s a crack in the armor.”

“You’re a menace to society, Gamlyn.”

“Gods, I love it when you’re mean to me,” he says with a dreamy sigh. “I’m gonna write about this in my diary when I get back to my room.”

“Goodnight,” you say, ending the conversation, or trying to.

“Someday, sweetheart,” he calls, watching you walk away. “I’ll get there someday, I know I will.”

--------------------------------------

You should already be on the flight field, but the fear gripping your heart has your boots stuck to the stone ground of the courtyard. You’ll be no use to your friends in this state, anyway. You need to relax.

You close your eyes for a moment, picturing the meadows of Tyrrendor. A dozen blue butterflies materialize in front of you, the gentle motion of their wings as they float through the night air soothing your nerves.

“Whoa.”

You startle, and the butterflies vanish, your head snapping toward the voice.

Ridoc stands a few yards away, still in his dress uniform, though he’s undone the first two buttons of the shirt, rolled up the sleeves and ditched the jacket entirely. A few dark locks fall across his forehead, loosened from the gel that had been holding them earlier.

He looks good like this. Too good.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he offers. “I’ve just never seen anything like them before. They’re beautiful.”

You compose yourself quickly. “They’re native to Tyrrendor. They don’t live anywhere else on the continent.”

“You’ll have to show me the real ones sometime,” he says, smiling.

You raise an eyebrow at the implication that you’d be bringing him home any time soon.

He continues, not missing a beat. “I may look like a hotshot dragon rider, which I am, but we both know you’d be the one in charge between us. I’d do anything you asked, sweetheart.”

“Anything except leave me alone?” you ask, regretting the sharp words as soon as they enter the air.

He’s silent. Maybe you’ve finally proven your point, proven to both him and yourself that you’re no good for him, that you don’t deserve the starry-eyed reverence he’s afforded you for months.

A whistle echoes across the courtyard, a three-note gliss you’d recognize anywhere; the one your parents had used to call you inside for dinner when you were kids.

You don’t turn toward the sound, still looking at Ridoc. For the first time ever, he isn’t smiling at you, and it feels like the world has stopped turning, that the sun has burnt out and the moons have disappeared from the sky.

You’re sick with guilt, struggling to form complete sentences. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to… that was a really fucked up thing for me to say. I just… I don’t understand why you-”

“Hurry up,” Garrick calls, impatient. “Xaden is pissed.”

“You should go,” Ridoc says softly. “We can talk about this another day.”

Why is he looking at you like that after what you’d said to him? Why does he still care about you? Why did he in the first place?

“Be safe,” he adds quietly, and that’s enough for you to finally move your feet, to run toward your foster brother, to follow him and Xaden to gods-know-where for their final assignment.

Garrick’s words go in one ear and out the other as you race toward the flight field. It doesn’t matter where you’re going or what you have to do, only that you come back, that you see Ridoc again and tell him the truth.

--------------------------------------

The next few days go by in a blur, devoid of color. You’re barely aware of your existence, just going through the motions to keep yourself alive. You sleep, you eat, but your dreams are blank and the food tasteless.

You settle onto the cold stone of the main staircase, leaning your cheek against the banister.

It’s easy enough to conjure a few of the soft blue butterflies, watching them flutter about above your head. You reach forward, extending your hand to one, and it lands on your finger, flapping its wings gently.

“You’re getting really good at that,” Garrick says quietly, sitting down on the step above you.

Five years living as siblings has attuned him to your emotions -- he knows that something is wrong, that something had been wrong even before you were sent on this suicide mission and lost two of your friends. “Do you want to talk about what happened when I came to get you?”

You really don’t, but the words come out anyway. “I fucked up,” you whisper, still watching the butterflies. The sight of them only reminds you Ridoc, of the soft awe that had lingered in his eyes even after they’d disappeared — until you’d snapped at him. Gods, the look on his face…

You push the thought away, and they fade back into air. “I hurt him, because I was scared.”

“Scared of what?” He asks. There’s no judgment in his tone, just gentleness; he genuinely wants to understand.

“That he was being serious, that he actually likes me,” you answer. “I keep pushing him away, but he keeps coming back, he keeps looking at me like… like I mean something to him, and I don’t understand why. He doesn’t know me, he isn’t one of us, he isn’t even in my squad. There’s no reason for him to care about me.”

Garrick lets your words hang in the air for a moment before he speaks. “I thought it was fitting that you developed an illusion signet.”

You look up, waiting for him to elaborate.

“It took me a full year to figure you out when we met, to realize that the person you really are on the inside doesn’t match the person that you show people. I think he saw right through that perpetual stone-faced look, saw the girl that I’m proud to call a sister.”

“You really think so?” You ask quietly.

“I know so.”

You rest your head against his shoulder, a gesture that he knows is equivalent to a tight embrace from anyone else -- you’ve never been a touchy person.

You’ve never been good at feelings, either. “It’s too damn quiet in this house,” you say after a moment, changing the subject.

He laughs. “It really is.”

--------------------------------------

Ridoc is standing in front of you.

You’re relieved at the sight of him, that no terrible fate befell him in the week you’d been away, but you can’t handle the conversation that you need to have, not when you feel like your heart is going to give out.

“I can’t do this right now,” you say, but the words don’t come out as strongly as you’d hoped, not enough air in your lungs to speak properly. “So if you could find somewhere else to be, that would be great.”

In true Ridoc fashion, he isn’t discouraged by your protests, kneeling down next to you. “Can you look at me, sweetheart?”

His seriousness confuses you enough to comply. You raise your chin, stunned at the softness in his eyes -- you’ve never been this close to him before. He’s beautiful.

“I’m gonna check your pulse, okay?”

You nod silently, allowing him to extend a hand toward you. Two fingers press into the side of your neck, feeling for your heartbeat.

He’s never touched you before. His hands are warm.

“Do you know where you are?”

“Basgiath,” you answer easily.

“Good. How long have you been sitting here?”

“I don’t know. Since we got out of formation?”

He realizes exactly what upset you — that must have been your first flight since you got back from War Games with the rest of the marked ones.

“I don’t know what you saw out there, and you don’t need to tell me, but whatever it is, it can’t hurt you right now,” he promises. The genuine sincerity in his voice has the tears falling faster.

Through your blurred vision you see him open his arms, and you lean into them without hesitation. He’s so warm that you can’t help but melt as soon as your skin touches his.

He rubs your back, speaking softly. “You’re okay, pretty girl, you’re safe. Just breathe with me, okay?”

You attempt to match the even pace of his chest rising and falling against yours, deepening your shuddering breaths.

“That’s it,” he soothes. “You’re doing great.”

Grief comes flooding out of you, and you clutch at the fabric of his flight jacket to remain upright. “I miss them so much,” you sob. “They didn’t deserve to die.”

Liam and Soleil, the two marked ones that hadn’t come back with you.

“I know, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.”

He continues to rub your back, murmuring soft reassurances to you until your grip on him has loosened and your breathing has slowed.

You’ve relaxed, your heart no longer pounding as it had been when he found you, but you still don’t want him to go, you couldn’t bear it if he left right now. “Stay?” You ask in a small voice.

“Of course,” he answers, pulling back to sit beside you. “As long as you need.”

Your tears have dried, leaving you with a headache and a hollow feeling in your sinuses. “Why did you help me?” You ask quietly, looking out at the river.

He wraps an arm around your shoulders. “Because it was the right thing to do. And because I can’t stand to see pretty girls cry.”

“Of course you’re back to cracking jokes already.”

“I’ve never been joking with you,” he says, shaking his head. “I meant every word I said to you, sweetheart. You’re beautiful, but you’re so much more than that, too. You’re capable, strong, witty, kind, caring, gentle… everything about you is good, and I wish that people would see past the relic on your arm and realize that.”

You blink at him, stunned.

“It’s true,” he says softly. “When you smiled at me that day at challenges, I knew that there was a soft heart under all that steel.”

A soft heart. A sweet heart.

There’s a moment of quiet while you work up the courage.

“Is that pasta place still there?”

He laughs, perhaps a little too loudly, but you’ve grown to love that sound, and the way it shakes his chest is comforting, like the rumble of a thunderstorm when you’re safe and dry indoors. “I think so.”

“Wanna go there tomorrow? Together?”

He grins from ear to ear. “Are you asking me out right now, sweetheart?”

You look over at him. “Yeah. I am.”

“This is going in the diary too, for the record.”

You can’t help but laugh, leaning back against him. If only for a moment, your anxiety has melted away.

You feel like you could face anything, as long as you have Ridoc to come home to.

#ridoc gamlyn #fourth wing #ridoc gamlyn x reader #fourth wing x reader #mine #Ridoc and Sweetheart

186 notes · View notes

auteurdelabre · 2 months

Text

So Much to Lose dark!Joel x f!Reader

rating: 18+

words: 4.6k

summary: After your explosive last patrol with Joel, you and Joel return to Teton Village.

tags: Enemies to EWB (enemies with benefits), slow burnish, oral (M receiving - no swallowing), Joel is emotionally stunted.

a/n: So strangely outta all my stories on the go, this one is the fic that plays in my head the most. I've written an outline, the final is already written out despite us havin' a bit of a ways to go to get these two seein' clearly. Reviews help me work, I don't get paid for this stuff, so if you wouldn't mind reviewing I'd really appreciate it!

masterlist here

Chapter 4 here

-------------------------

Chapter 5: You still want this?

Jennifer sees you walk into the dining hall a short while later and calls you over with an exaggerated wave. The group she’s sitting with wave at you also. All of them are like Jennifer; young and pretty and smiley.

They set you a bit on edge with their intrigued gazes when you approach with your tray, taking a seat next to a tall man with an easy smile.Jennifer introduces you to everyone before doing the same for you.

“This is Peter, his wife Margaret,” a brunette couple at the end of the table give waves before going back to their chatting. “On your left is Lee and the guy to your right is Luke.”

The tall man – Luke – gives you a small nod and shy smile. “Nice to meet'cha.”

“He’s new like you,” Jennifer explains. “Just moved here last month. He used to be in construction.”

“Oh wow,” you say trying to feign interest and failing. Luke chews his food and gives an awkward nod at you before he starts to speak across the table to Peter.

You want to be engaged with the faces around the table, but your mind is still with Joel in the stable. You still can’t believe you told him you wanted him to fuck your mouth. That you verbally agreed to it. He gave you an out and you still said yes! What the fuck is wrong with you?

The rest of the group chats around you and you don’t mind the chatter. It fills the space normally punctuated with silence that you’re used to and it momentarily distracts you from your dilemma. You find you much prefer conversations with Ellie though – she has more interesting things to say on the whole.

Jennifer is obviously the leader of this group, weaving tales and telling jokes that has the rest of the table (including you) chuckling. When the rest of her friends finish their breakfasts and bid the two of you a good day, she waits until you are both alone before fixing you with a smile.

“Isn’t Luke nice?”

“Mhmm.”

Jennifer loves to talk and doesn't seem to mind that you don't. She likes regaling you with stories about folks living in the town. She's been settled in Jackson almost as long as Maria and Tommy and subsequently she has seen quite a bit.

"The Butcher used to date the lady that sorted the incoming items," she tells you over her tea. "But then she fell in love with the guy who works in weaponry. It was really messy for a bit."

You listen with fascination at the social milieu of the community you now inhabit. Being in Jennifer's orbit also means that others are starting to take notice of you. More people wave and give you passing greetings. You can only shyly nod and give mumbled hello’s in return.

This morning a tall man with patchy eyebrows gives you and Jennifer a nod, tilting his cowboy hat in your direction as he saunters past your table.

"That's Greg," Jennifer says with a voice low in secrecy. "We dated for a few months a year or so ago. Super nice guy but very clingy."

You suppress a smirk at this, amused at Jennifer's disgusted expression. Dating seems like something from a lifetime ago, almost juvenile in concept.

"You date a lot?" Jennifer asks as she sips her tea. "Before the outbreak, I mean."

"Nah," you shake your head. "Dating scared the shit outta me. I was always a really shy kid."

"I could see that," Jennifer muses. "You don't really talk much."

You shrug, feeling strangely embarrassed, as if this quiet observation is somehow a scathing criticism of character.

"What about around here?" Jennifer asks with playful lilt to her voice. It's asked in such a way that reminds you of slumber parties with giggling and strawberry lip-gloss. "Anyone catch your eye?"

"Not really."

You know that you answer too quickly but you also know that Jennifer won't follow up on it if you change the subject to her favorite topic: herself.

"What about you?" You take a bite of toast before casting your eyes over the crowd. "Got a lot to folks to choose from."

Jennifer glances around the bustling dining hall before wrinkling her nose up, obviously unimpressed with her choices presented.

"I'm gonna stick with Joel Miller," she nods to herself. "All the other guys here kinda pale in comparison."

Joel Miller.

"Might have you work cut out for you," you murmur. "Seems like a lot of work just to get him to be civil."

"I like a challenge," Jennifer winks at you. "And since you two are partner’s maybe you can introduce me sometime?"

Oh yeah, that'll go over well. You wish she’d drop this whole Joel thing. But then again because of it she’s being kind to you, she’s taken an interest. She’s introducing you to people, she’s helping to chase away the loneliness. You’re both getting something out of this, so why not continue?

Then again, its Joel.

"I think you should pick someone easier," you offer. "Plus if you go with him you'll be a stepmom to Ellie."

"I don't think she needs a stepmom," Jennifer laughs.

Your brows furrow and you go to reply when the girl of the hour walks into the dining hall. She sees you and waves before she walks over grab a tray of food. Her ponytail bobs behind her as she collects her breakfast items.

"She's so sweet," Jennifer tuts with what sounds like adoration when she witnesses this. You hold in a frown, not liking the condescending way Jennifer says it. It’s very likely she doesn’t mean it that way, but something about it irks you.

You watch Ellie saunter up to the end of your table, casting a look in your direction. You try to ignore her, remembering what Joel said you to earlier. He doesn’t want you interacting with Ellie, answering her questions.

He all but said you weren’t an influence he wants on his daughter. But it feels wrong to ignore her, wrong to pretend she isn’t standing beside you looking at you with beseeching eyes.

"Hi Ellie," Jennifer chirps as the girl stands awkwardly at the end of the table, looking at you. "Join us?"

Ellie shoots you a look that you can't quite read. You raise your eyes to hers and see the insecurity there and it breaks your heart. There’s no way you can turn her away. You motion to the table with your head that the invitation is indeed valid and she gives you a tight, relieved smile.

Ellie takes a seat next to you, tray clattering. You don’t miss the two milks on her tray and you hold in a smirk. Ellie begins to dig into her eggs and Jennifer is all warm smiles and sweet words for the sleepy teen.

"I heard that you're working on your baking," Jennifer offers abruptly, surprising both of you. You turn to look at Ellie, brow raised.

“You are?”

"Who told you that?" Ellie snaps, irritation laced in every letter. Her dark eyes are narrowed in obvious distaste for the blonde seated across from you.

"Oh uh, Rita in the kitchen mentioned it," Jennifer says with an uneasy laugh, eyes darting to you and then back to Ellie.

You think about Joel not wanting you to interfere, but this is something you know about. Baking is something you can actually bond with her about without making her long for the past.

"I didn't know you liked baking," you tell her. "If you want I can ask some of the-"

"Can we just drop it, please?" Ellie asks, cheeks burning. It's clearly something she didn't want other people knowing and you wince. You know the feeling of wanting something private for yourself.

"Of course," you nod.

The table lapses into a tense silence with Jennifer trying to smile at Ellie and the girl trying to look everywhere but at Jennifer. Ellie stabs a bit of sausage with her fork, the action almost violent. She’s tired and her hair is knotted in her ponytail. You wish you had a brush you could run through her thick tresses. Once a big sister, always a big sister you suppose.

"How's Joel?" Jennifer asks lightly, as if the answer isn't really a big deal. You want to roll your eyes at her lack of subtlety but Ellie beats you to it.

"S'fine."

Jennifer looks at you, silently begging for help, but you leave your eyes on your plate. If Jennifer wants to pursue this whole Joel thing she’ll do so without your help. While you’ll let her rope you into talking to Joel, there’s no way you’re going to bug Ellie about this.

"Doesn't he usually have meals with you?"

"Not breakfast usually," Ellie offers with a bored look on her face. "Only sometimes."

She remains tight-lipped for the rest of breakfast, sitting sullenly next to you as she eats. This cloudy disposition exits only when Jennifer announces she has plans with her friends and bids you both a farewell.

"She's such a phony," Ellie cites as the woman leaves the dining hall. "She doesn't give a shit about me. She just wants to know about Joel it’s so fucking obvious."

"I'm sure that's not true," you say without feeling. You feel a twist of guilt in your gut. Jennifer is nice to you and yeah, she’s a bit of an annoyance, but you don’t think she’s particularly harmful.

However as soon as the words leave your mouth Ellie stands abruptly, bristling. You give her a confused look.

"I told you I don't like liars."

She leaves her tray next to you, looking disgusted as she marches out of the hall, sure to go in the opposite direction of Jennifer.

///

The ride to Teton village that afternoon is a tense one punctuated by the occasional whinny from Midnight and Chestnut. You and Joel haven't spoken since your patrol shift started, not even a hello when you both mounted your horses.

Now you ride behind him a few paces, body bobbing along with Chestnut who seems to be reinvigorated after his re-shoeing.

The sky is a bright grey today, the chill of the weather deep in your bones. You're thankful for the warm clothes you've put on, including the red scarf hidden deep in the depths of your jacket. You know how much Joel hates it.

Your eyes drift to your patrol partner and his broad shoulders holding a backpack and gun.

You still want that mouth fucked dumb?

Your admission to Joel earlier makes your heart continue to thrum well after you've been riding for hours. Every turn of his head that showcases his severe profile sets your stomach jumping.

You wonder if he's going to say something about it. If he's going to jeer at you or worse, guide you both off to the side of the road and insist you suck him right there.

But he doesn't make any move to do so. He just continues on ahead of you atop of Midnight like some modern cowboy in a winter jacket.

How did Ellie get through to him?

This sticks out in your mind. Ellie is abrasive and loud and seems to be everything Joel would despise in another person. And yet, the brief times you’ve seen a look of tenderness he shares with her is something so loving it makes your heart crack. He’s her father in everything but blood. His daughter is gone. Is that why? Was there a daughter-sized hole in Joel desperate to be filled and Ellie fit the bill? The thought humanizes him in your eyes.

By the time you reach the village you almost pity Joel. A man who lost a daughter, desperate to take care of another living being. You wonder if there is a wife-shaped hole missing in him too. Would Jennifer fit that bill? Would he be happy if that empty spot was taken up by a beautiful blonde woman? If so a part of you wants to help.

You tie up your horses and Joel watches you unlock the door. He doesn't comment when your fingers tremble clumsily to punch in the code. He doesn't jeer when you stumble in over the floorboards. You watch him saunter ahead of you with the Thermos and your lunches and you observe him not as Joel Miller, asshole. You work to seperate his body from his person. He's a man, a strangely beautiful one in his ferocity and broad frame.

His body is graceful despite its bulk and your eyes rove the planes of his form as he makes his way ahead of you, bag and gun still draped over his shoulders. Is he attractive? Maybe. He isn’t hideous to you. But attractive is a hard thing to measure when you don’t really enjoy the person.

Joel disappears with his bag upstairs muttering that he'll be back and you go to the small back room to sign your names in the log. You feel confident doing it now, your fingers not trembling when you hold the pencil. You glance around the small room, looking at the boxes at the side. You pull them out, curious. Inside one are a few blankets. Inside the other are two pairs of boots. Another box yields a gun and a box of bullets.

Back up items you think, in case something happens.

Joel is still working away upstairs and so you take the opportunity to explore a bit of the old building, walking aimlessly from room to room. You walk into the room with the old couch covered in one of the blankets you recognize from Jackson City. It faces an ancient looking fireplace that holds dried wood and shavings to start a fire. This surprises you considering they don’t want attention drawn to the building.

You wander into the ancient bathroom that hasn't had running water for months, glancing at the shower free of mildew and the toilet that you don’t dare lift the lid off of. You make your way through the variety of other empty rooms, looking at portraits hung on the walls before you hear Joel's heavy boots coming back down the steps to your level.

You watch him return and wordlessly follow him to that small room in the back so he can glance over your log notes with an unreadable expression before pulling out the Thermos and bag of food from his backpack.

Lunch is consumed with you sitting across from one another at the warped table, noting that a quiet Joel is just as intimidating as a speaking one.

Your mind drifts to the window upstairs. The one that was broken last time. It's quiet which means that is what Joel must have been working on it earlier.

"Did you fix the window?"

"Patched it. When the right supplies come in we'll repair it properly." Joel bites into his sandwich, swallowing quickly. You wonder if he's always eaten this quickly or he's trying to speed things up.

"I don't know much about repair-"

"You won't be doing anything," Joel cuts in without looking at you. "I'll come out on a different day with a few others."

"Oh. Okay."

You lapse into silence again. Joel is a loud chewer you notice; another thing to add to the growing tally of ways he annoys you when he's not intimidating the hell out of you. You shrug off your jacket, finding it strangely warm in the small room.

You finish your lunch quickly, anxious about whether this is going to happen. Will Joel fuck your mouth? Will he make you ask for it? You don’t think you could even if you wanted. The thought is too intimidating.

As if reading your mind Joel wipes his crumby fingers along his jeans before clearing his throat. He sits facing you and you watch as his legs slowly widen.

That's when you realize it's going to follow the same pattern. In the same room and at his leisure. And despite the fact that you can't stand Joel and despite the fact that this is patrols, you feel your core tighten. He moves his tongue to his cheek, staring at you for so long you visibly falter, eyes dropping to your hands.

"You still want this?"

He says it so quietly you're not sure he said anything at all and it takes you a moment to understand what he's referencing. But then you know your answer, you know from the telltale pull below your navel and the way your nipples tighten under your sweater.

You lose your voice and find you can only nod shallowly. When you glance up after a beat to see Joel frown at your lack of a verbal response you sit up a little straighter in your chair.

"Yes."

Joel nods slowly, sucking at his teeth as he stares at you. Your thumb digs into the cuticle of your ring finger nervously.

No, not nervously; anticipatory.

You feel arousal begin to pool in your lower belly and you are made absurdly aware that you want this, that you want him. Not outside these stolen moments when he feels like the most frustrating person you know. Just when he promises a release from the loud world and its horrors.

"Gonna listen?”

His voice is firm, but hushed. You glance up the length of his body slowly, taking in the tapered waist and the long neck before and your eyes lock briefly before his. He holds his eyes on you before they flit to your shoulder. You finally nod, voice cracked.

"Yes."

He nods before surprising you by standing. He tilts his head, a silent follow me signal and you do as he walks out the door and into the room with the couch and fireplace. He leads you to the old sofa, the one that's been stripped of its fabric and left with what looks like a poorly tufted blanket over top. Likely an addition by one of the patrols but you can't understand why.

Joel eases onto it and it creaks as he settles himself. The air is gone from the room, leaving you breathless as you watch Joel unbuckle and then unbutton his jeans. You hold your breath as the zipper is pulled down and you see the flash of Joel's dark boxers underneath.

He beckons you closer with nothing more than his middle and pointer finger curling into his palm and you shuffle closer, approaching him slowly and warily as if he were a wounded animal.

And then it's like last time, only instead of angry, Joel just looks passive. As if this is something he did with all his former patrol partners.

Who knows, maybe he did.

You’re still wearing your red scarf and he takes it in his left fist before he tugs it gently, pulling you towards him. You stumble into the vee of his parted legs, looking down at him and swallowing. Despite the fact that you’re standing, you feel completely at his mercy.

He tilts his head, regarding you silently before he drops his hand from your scarf.

"On your knees," he says sibilant.

You sink to the floor between his legs without question. You don't hesitate. You hit your knees quickly, not caring that the floor is cold through the denim of your jeans. You don’t care if your eagerness is obvious.

Your hands tremble in equal measure anticipation and fear as they reach for Joel's boxers. As you did last time you pull him through the slit at the front, keeping the base of his cock still partially hidden. He seems to prefer that, letting you only see glimpses of him. You think you prefer that too. Still you feel your eyes widen a fraction at actually seeing his hard cock up close in your home. You'd only felt it that night on patrols.

“Stroke.”

You move your hand forward cautiously, waiting for your fingers to curl around his hard shaft. It twitches when you touch it. He raises an eyebrow slowly, his head tilting as his eyes move down to where you stroke him. He watches your hand move there, his tongue coming to drag over his lower lip. It glistens.

You swallow nervously, eyes on his cock as you tilt forward. You let yourself observe the bead of pre-come at the tip, the stiffness of his length. Without thinking you dip your face forward and run your lips from the base of his cock, grazing them to the tip. You’re rewarded with a quiet hiss from Joel.

“Lick.”

You do. Soft little kitten licks along the head tasting the salt of his pre-come. Joel breathes sharply through his nose at the sensation and when your eyes flick up they find his intensely staring down at you. A shiver goes through your body at the heavy desire reflected back to you. It emboldens you.

You don’t even wait for him to tell you to suck. Your parted mouth simply dips forward and circles the rosy head immediately. It stretches your lips, straining to take him. He's heavy on your tongue, thick in your mouth. You'd expected him to be rough, to thrust himself to the hilt but he's still. He's so still you're not sure he's okay with it.

With your mouth still full of him your eyes travel up his body to his face, brows raised in question. His face gives nothing away and you still, preparing to pull off of him when one large hand comes to the top of your head stopping you. He seems momentarily thrown, mouth curving into a frown. His hand goes to your neck and you wince in surprise when he unravels the red scarf from your neck.

"Close your eyes."

You do, letting them flutter shut. You don't say anything when he folds the scarf in half lengthwise before tying it around your eyes, securing it snugly at the back of your head. Your mouth is still stuffed with his cock, stretching your mouth almost painfully as you wait for him to knotting it at the back of your head.

If you opened your eyes you would see nothing but a murky red. As it is you see only the inside of your eyelids. You can smell the scent of sweat and soap and coffee. You feel disorientated kneeling there on the cold wood floor and you want to grip his thighs for purchase but don’t dare.

His heavy hand is still resting on the crown of your head and now you feel it slowly urging your mouth to take more of him. You hear Joel’s steady breathing.

"Keep goin’," Joel whispers and judging by the direction of his voice you think he must be looking down at you.

He pulls out slowly, his breath ragged.

"You want more?"

His cock is dragging along your bottom lip and you can imagine it glossy and reddened. He urges it onto your waiting tongue before slipping out again, teasing you. He doesn’t wait for you to answer before responding on your behalf.

“Yeah, you want more,” he says sliding his cock back, the head hitting the back of your throat.

You begin to suck him with vigor, bobbing your head along his length with gusto. You're rewarded with the low murmuring groan from him. You begin humming gently around him, .

It feels good, it feels so fucking good to have this again. To feel a cock in your mouth, to hear a man groaning above you as you take him deeper into your throat. He begins to thrust now, trusting that you can take him. His movements are quick, his hips jerking.

Your saliva coats him, his pelvis quickly inching towards you and then away, back and forth as he saws his cock between your lips.

It could be anyone, you tell yourself. You've just missed this so much. This connection, this lust, this palpable heat that makes Joel snap his hips and makes you respond in kind, tilting back and taking him until your nose brushes the wiry hairs at the base of his cock. He smells amazing, musky and masculine.

"Christ," he murmurs, eyes closing. "S'good."

You feel saliva begin to drool out the corners of your mouth as he thrusts more rapidly into you, hand still on the crown of your head.

"Yeah that's right," he says in a husky drawl. "That's fucking right."

You wonder how you look right now. Not in a performative way, but you wonder if you look in command of yourself. Like you're not secretly terrified. Or do you look scared? Maybe Joel likes that. You hope not.

You moan as he slides deeper into your throat. At the sound Joel withdraws, letting himself rest heavily on your tongue. His hips shift and he bobs his cock along your tongue, like an engine being primed.

"You like that," Joel says, slipping in and out between your lips. "Like me fucking your pretty mouth."

Never a question, always a statement. He's talking to hear himself talk, not because he actually wants to know if you like it. You continue to bob your head along his cock, your mind going blissfully blank.

"Gonna come," he suddenly announces from above you.

You moan approvingly, his length aching in your mouth as you slide the tip of your tongue to flick at the head of his cock, your mouth stretched full. You know this part, you anticipate this part. The rapid unravelling, you only wish your eyes weren’t covered. Watching Joel unravel on your tongue would be interesting.

"Gonna come," he grunts at you again, harsher this time.

When you continue sucking, his wide palm comes to press against your forehead, pushing you back harshly.

You pop off of him, falling back onto your elbows. You give a yelp before pushing up your blindfold and looking up at him in confusion. You've never had a man pull out, always tasted them salty and sharp over your tongue.

But Joel's eyes are closed and his wide hands are gripping his thickness, curving around the head, stroking furiously and it's only seconds before he lurches forward and comes with a ragged gasp in great warm ropes that spill over his knuckles and onto the wood floor.

You watch the steady dripping, the silent admission that Joel would rather his spend go there, onto the wood floor, because it's more deserving than your mouth.

Useless.

“I….” Joel croaks before licking his dried lips. His cheeks and neck are flushed with red. "I didn't know if you'd want it.”

“Oh.”

“Thought you were doing it ‘cuz you thought you had to."

"Oh."

You wish you could offer more than that. But you’re still in shock, still laying there on your back, propped up by your elbows in some strange tableau of relaxation.

His breathing starts to regulate before he stands abruptly. You look away, saying nothing as he moves to the washroom with the water canteen from his bag. You imagine he’s washing his hands the best he can.

You take a moment to stand, legs shaky and jaw sore. It’s been a while since you did that. And your surprised at how much you enjoyed it, considering the person the cock was attached to. When he exits moments later he’s tucked away and he tells you quietly that it’s time to head back.

Wordlessly you both gather your belongings and Joel locks up the place behind you both. You feel strangely unsettled, not because of what happened but because of how it ended. You feel somehow cheated.

You reach your tethered horses at the same time. You work on untying Chestnut, feeling Joel’s eyes on you as he does the same for Midnight.

"You like sucking cock?"

His voice is so nonchalant you could be talking about taxes or the weather.

"Sometimes," you say as you shrug. Your cheeks burn, despite the cool air.

The two of you mount your horses and head back. It’s not until a half hour has passed that you finally find the words you’d wanted to say earlier.

“I like it,” you say, face burning as you stroke Chestnut’s mane absently while you trot behind Joel and Midnight. “Uh, finishing in my mouth. I like that.”

Joel turns his head slightly until you can see his strong profile silhouetted in the setting sun. He gives you a half nod.

“Alright then.”

You say nothing more the rest of the ride back to Jackson City. Your horses take you back home, the path trod so many times before. Joel and you make no attempt at speaking more about your time, it seems pertinent it remain unspoken.

The secret stays in Teton village.

-----------------------------------------

taglist: @cosmic006533-blog1 @joeldjarin @elegantduckturtle @orcasoul @valkyreally @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @multiversed-daydreamer

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #dad joel miller #joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel tlou #smut #fanfiction #fanfic #dark!joel x reader #dark!joel miller #dark!joel

167 notes · View notes

bubbles-for-all-of-us · 5 months

Text

No longer yours to keep

summary: what happens when you and Xaden bond with mated dragons but you're already dating Garrick?

warning: pretty suggestive, some iron flame spoilers.

Kind of part II

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For as long as you could remember it had been you three against the world. Your families had been extremely close so it was inevitable for your three to end up being best friends. And it was like that until you all started to grow up. And once the teenage years kicked in so did the desire to explore and learn new things.

You mingled in this relationship with no boundaries, no labels for a bit. Until Xaden had to uphold his duties. Had to agree to be engaged to a girl just for the sake of power. That of course meant that you and Garrick had been slightly pushed to the side. Xaden was barely free to spend time with you, barely there for your usual nights out. Meaning that you and Garrick fell into this easy rhythm. This bonding over losing a friend you two loved dearly. And without any big gestures. Without any grand signs had fallen in love.

Garrick had always been made of sharp edges, similar to Xaden. Just Xaden used that as a form of self-defense when he needed to be out in the public and Garric... He had always been on the rougher side. Had always been harder to read. To predict. But he was an amazing lover. There wasn't a moment where you felt unseen or unheard. Yes, he had his moments but once he stewed over them, he would always come to apologize. To make it right. And he was so protective. Boy, was he protective. It was both a charming thing because it empowered you even more but... it was frightening too because Garrick's heart was in your hands, he had let you in deeper than anyone else. And you had planned to keep it forever. Had planned but...

But then threshing came. You three were at the top of your squad. Ready to grasp the best spots in the section. Garrick and Xaden were already waiting when you emerged. They had remained close friends throughout the years. Lost had changed and in all honesty it was you who bitched to Xaden the most. "We can do the next shipment after we bond with dragons", Xaden said quietly. There was a revelation brewing. And surprise, surprise Xaden was at the top of it. "I'll get the boys to take the boxes tonight", Garrick said, as his arm sneaked around your waist, "Hey", he muttered pressing his lips to your temple. "Everything's okay?", you asked, earning a nod from them both. "Excited to bond?", you looked across the field as the wind picked up.

"I have my eyes set on a dragon I want", Xaden said firmly. "Of course you do", you rolled your eyes, suddenly feeling the urge to cling to Garrick as if this might as well be the last time you two were gonna see one another. "You're okay?", Garrick wrapped an arm over your shoulders, you hesitated for a moment but... they were your childhood friends after all.

"I just have this weird feeling", you breathed out, "Like something is about to change". Xaden snicked from beside you and Garrick threw him a glare. "We will be bonding with dragons today, princess", Xaden mused. "Might be. Don't be too full of yourself", you bit back, Garrick instantly brought you closer to him, hands on your hips, "Don't bite his throat out, baby". Xaden pushed away from the wall, "I'll see you two there".

You huffed out a breath. You didn't want to be a bitch but that man was grinding your gears at times. He was also putting himself in so much danger and for what? A fucking title? "Tell me about what's worrying you", Garrick cupped your face. Your eyes met his. God, you loved this man. "I just have a bad feeling", you muttered, "I don't think that anyone is dying today but... I think that things are going to be different. Really different". Garrick tilted his head to the side as he watched you. "All I care about is that you come back to me", he muttered, "with or without a dragon, I just want you back by my side". His words clenched at your heart because somehow deep down you had an inkling that that was exactly what wasn't gonna happen.

You had crossed paths with burnt flesh multiple times. Guess this year's threshing theme was roasted cadets for dinner. You were so tired. Sure, this had to end soon and you would have to admit your defeat. And just... A puff of hot air hit your back making you still. You could feel its presence behind you. You took a deep breath in before turning around. And here it stood. The biggest black dragon you had ever seen. "Holly fuck", you breathed beneath your breath.

Your head was buzzing. Every fiber of your skin was on fire. You could believe that you had bonded with a dragon. A black one at that. Black dragons rarely bonded. Lower your ego he snarled in your mind. You slide down his leg ready to give your dragon's name so you can be officially linked when an overwhelming sense of emotions hits your chest. You faltered slightly. Gripping the edge of the table a huge scroll will names was placed on it.

You hand fell on your chest as the edges of your vision blurred. You let out a pained breath as your eyes snapped up and here he stood. On the other side of the field. A blue dragon by his side. Eyes burning holes into you. Hands in fists. What the fuck... you felt an arm wrapping around your waist. Oddly enough wanting to pull away because it just didn't feel right only to find Garrick inches from you, cupping your face. And then everything went black.

Your eyes snapped open with a jolt. The moon was casting faint light over the room. Garrick was passed out beside you. His hand wrapped around your middle. You brushed your fingers through his messy hair when a wave of need rushed through you. Need that wasn't however in any way related to the man that was next to you. Come to me. The voice rang in your head making you jolt. And even if you didn't want to. And even if you tried to fight it. Tried to fall back asleep. Tried cuddling into your boyfriend. Not even fifteen minutes later you were padding through the quiet corridors.

You didn't even have a clue as to where you were going and yet here you were, standing right next to the person that had taken over your mind. "Why the fuck do I feel you in every fiber of my body, Riorson", you said through gritted teeth. Your body grew warm just from the sight of him. "Our dragons are mated", he said bluntly, puffing out a cloud of mirth-root. You instantly crossed the distance between you too, snatching the blunt and taking a hit yourself. The overwhelming feeling eased slightly, but your body still yarned for him.

"We need to sort this out, get this fixed", you muttered, brushing your fingers through your hair in frustration. "How do you plan on doing that? They have been mates for centuries. Fuck, we hadn't even been born back then", Xaden huffed out. "I'm with Garrick, I won't leave him, I...", you muttered in panic, but Xaden's hand that sneaked up your throat made your voice die down.

"They are fucking", Xaden said through gritted teeth, eyes hazy as he looked at you. You could feel it too. Gods, even the smell of him. "We can't... I can't do this to him", you pushed back, trying to keep distance between you two. "Do you think it's not eating me alive?", Xaden growled, cursing under his breath, "I watched Garrick falling head over heels for you. You're it for him, and now...", Xaden turned around, bracing a hand on the wall as he breathed. Please hold your pleasure to yourself you snarled at your dragon. But it's like your words didn't even reach him.

You took in a shaky breath, right as your eyes met Xaden, and within the blink of an eye you were pressed against the stone wall, legs wrapped around Xaden's hips. His teeth buried in your neck as you dug your nails into the back of his neck. It felt as if your body was on fire. As if only with him near you could finally breathe. "We can go back to having an open relationship", Xaden breathed against your ear. You shook your head, "Garrick will never share, we're in too deep", you muttered. Xaden let out a growl, "If he'll want to keep you, he will share, baby". His hands moved up your shirt, Garrick's shirt, and that was a reminder enough for you to push against Xaden's chest. You wiggled till he finally lost his grip on you. "If you'll challenge him for a claim of me, I swear to everything I believe in, I will suffocate you in your sleep", you pointed a warning finger at him. Xaden only chuckled, "You'll be crawling to me", he breathed out. Dark eyes watching you. "Fuck you, Riorson", you huffed, "You'll do that to baby", he mussed right as you turned around. Practically running back to your room. Heart beating in your chest so loudly that for a while it was all you could breathe.

#garrick tavis #garrick tavis x reader #garrick tavis x you #garrick tavis imagine #garrick tavis fourth wing #garrick tavis iron flame #garrick tavis x oc #xaden riorson #xaden riorson x reader #xaden riorson x you #xaden riorson imagine #xaden riorson four wing #xaden riorson iron flame #fourth wing x reader #fourth wing imagine #fourth wing x you #iron flame x reader #iron flame

357 notes · View notes

pink-sparkly-witch · 6 months

Text

Forever Hold Your Peace

Summary: Dean and Y/N dated for years, but his hunting lifestyle means he’s unwilling to move past dating. A few years later, Y/N invites Dean to her wedding to another man. A man who isn’t right for her, one she doesn’t love, one she hopes Dean stops her from marrying.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader (past)

Rating: 18+ Only

Bingo Square: The quote: “You’re never going to have a happy ending—just remember that.” for @j3bingo. This quote will be in bold.

Warnings: implied smut, double date, insecurities, wedding jitters, religious wedding ceremony (not overly descriptive), heart-to-heart, cheating, smut, fingering, oral sex (m rec), unprotected p in v, creampie, break up.

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: I’d like to start by saying that this is fiction, and I do not condone cheating in any capacity. I personally think it’s vile and unforgivable. With that being said, a little brainstorming session for this fic resulted in a cheating plot bunny that my muse would not leave alone and this is what happened. Please consider reblogging to spread this far and wide around this Hellsite, or leave a little comment. It really does fuel our muse. If you’re too shy or too cool for people to know you read fanfic and you don’t want it showing on your blog, you can submit an anonymous ask or drop me a DM 💖

My Masterlist AO3 Ko-Fi

“Dean!” you giggle as your boyfriend nuzzles at your neck, pulling the hem of your dress up. “We’re going to be late!”

“Don’t care,” Dean skims his fingers over your panties, groaning when he feels the damp spot already there. “Haven’t seen you in weeks, baby, and I need you. Now.”

You don’t argue with him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him towards your lips.

Walking into the restaurant twenty minutes late, your hand rests on Dean’s forearm as he guides you slowly and carefully to your table, being mindful of your high-heeled feet.

You grin, remembering what your boyfriend had done to you not half an hour ago and how he’s still taking his sweet time and is sure to be pissing Sam off with every second you’re late.

“Finally!” Sam groans as you reach the table. Dean, always the gentleman, pulls your chair out and tucks it back in, checking that you’re comfortable before he takes his seat.

“I know that look,” Eileen grins, and you feel your cheeks heat up.

“I’m sorry we’re late,” you say bashfully.

“Don’t be. I know you haven’t seen each other in six weeks,” Eileen smirks.

“Eight,” you blurt out. “Not that I’m counting.” Chuckles ripple through around the table, and Dean places his hand on your thigh and squeezes.

“So, what did you guys want to tell us?” Dean asks the couple sitting across from you.

“We’re engaged!” Eileen says, throwing her hand out to flash her ring.

“Oh my God, congratulations, guys!” you gush, standing to hug the couple. You’re genuinely happy for them. Sam and Eileen are made for each other, but it’s tinged with some sadness because you wish you were the one sporting a gorgeous, sparkling diamond ring and planning your wedding and future with Dean.

“Now Dean just needs to get his shit together and finally propose. It’s been five years, dude. Put a ring on it already!” Sam teases him, and you laugh good-naturedly but can’t help but notice your boyfriend isn’t even trying to pretend to be humoured as he scowls at his best friend.

Dean is quiet and withdrawn for the rest of the evening. The thick tension that fills the car ride home makes the insecurities you have about your relationship resurface.

While he’s never given you reason to doubt that he loves you or finds you attractive, his reluctance to take your relationship further and get engaged is starting to wear on you.

“Are you okay, De?” you ask cautiously. It’s not the first time someone has asked him about proposing - Sam and his friends never stop asking, but every time, Dean would push you away and pull into himself.

“Fine,” he nods, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. You know he’s not fine, but you don’t want to push. He clams up whenever someone mentions getting engaged, making you think you’re not worthy of him or good enough to be his wife.

You know it’s not healthy to ignore the issue, and you know if you want to know what’s going on here, you need to be the one to bring it up, but you’re scared. You love him deeply. Dean is your everything. And if you have this conversation with him, it could end your relationship. But you can’t keep going like this. You want to get married, and if it’s not what he wants, then you don’t think you can stay with him.

Caught up in your thoughts, you don’t notice you’re in Dean’s apartment until he throws his keys on the sideboard.

“We’re okay, right?” It comes out of your mouth before you’ve thought about it, and you know there’s no backing down now. You and Dean are having this conversation tonight. “Because every time someone gets engaged or mentions us getting engaged, you clam up and shut me out. What is it? Do you not want to get married? Or do you just not want to marry me?”

“Can we not do this right now? Please, Y/N?” Dean asks, defeat clear in his tone.

“I think we need to, Dean.”

TWO YEARS LATER

“Y/N, honey, you look beautiful!” Your mother gushes when she sees you in your champagne wedding gown.

“Thanks, Mom,” you smile, straightening the front of the dress.

“How are you feeling?” she asks, taking your hands to stop you from fidgeting.

“Nervous,” you chuckle, and your mom smiles.

“I’d be worried if you weren’t!” she giggles. “Let’s get a few photos before you walk down the aisle.”

The past two years have been a blur, and you don’t really know how you got here. After you and Dean broke up, you weren’t looking for anyone to take his place yet. But when you saw him and another woman leaving a bar not even a month after you ended your five-year relationship, your best friend declared you needed to get back out there and get laid.

That’s when you met Matt. Sensible, quiet, safe, non-hunting Matt. He was everything Dean wasn’t, but at the time, that’s precisely what you needed. Within a year, you were living together, and three months after that, you were engaged. Next thing you know, your wedding day is here, and you’re questioning if you’ve even been present in your own life for the past two years.

It’s just the last-minute jitters you keep telling yourself, but you know deep down this isn’t what you want. You want to get married and have a family. You want a nice man who works hard and treats you right. Someone who has good values and ethics that match yours. Matt has all of those qualities, and yet something is missing.

“Smile, honey,” your mom says, and you do, completely on autopilot as you have been since Matt proposed.

“Should anyone present know of any reason that this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace,” the priest says, and your heart pounds in your chest.

You don’t know what you were expecting, but when the priest’s words are met with silence, your heart sinks, and you resign yourself to your fate.

Dutifully, you repeat the vows the priest tells you to, say I do and let Matt place the ring on your finger. And smile prettily as Matt does the same, and you put a ring on his finger. You kiss your newly pronounced husband, take his arm, and walk down the aisle.

At the back of the church, in the last pew, your gaze lands on familiar green eyes, and you feel pure anger. He came… he came, and he didn’t stop the wedding. Absence didn’t make his heart grow fonder, and he still doesn’t want to marry you. He doesn’t want you.

The rage dulls quickly, and bile rises in your throat as you realise what you were waiting for before you said your vows. You were hoping and praying Dean would stop the wedding, that he’d tell you what a mistake he made and that he still loves you and wants you back.

But he didn’t. And now it’s over for good.

Somehow, you manage to pull yourself together enough to greet each guest as they leave the church. Dean politely kisses your cheek and smiles sadly as he tells you you make a beautiful bride. He congratulates Matt and tells him he’s a lucky man, and then he’s gone.

Someone ushers you both away to take the official photographs with your family and close friends, and you once again force a smile on your lips, trying to mask your broken heart.

“Hey, sweetie,” Matt kisses your cheek and wraps his arm around your shoulders. “You okay?”

“Uh, yeah,” you lie, getting your marriage off to a good start. “I’m just feeling a little overwhelmed. I’m going to the room for a bit. Refresh my makeup and take my hair out before these hairpins give me a headache!”

“Do you want me to come with you?” he asks, and you shake your head with a giggle.

“No. I’ll be fine. Besides, we can’t have the bride and the groom disappear. People will talk!”

“I guess you’re right,” Matt chuckles. “Hurry back so I don’t miss you.”

“I promise, I won’t be long,” you reassure as you kiss his cheek and sneak away to the bridal suite for some breathing space.

Walking along the hallway, you smile politely and thank the hotel’s non-wedding guests who congratulate you as you pass on the way to your room and hope the tears don’t fall yet.

You sigh in relief as you swipe the card and open the door. Hurrying inside, you turn around to push the door closed, only for a foot to push in and stop it.

“Y/N? Can I come in and talk,” Dean says. In your shock, you let go of the door and step back, unintentionally inviting him into what you’d hoped could serve as a sanctuary for you to get your shit together.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Dean.” He’s already closing the door behind him, and you know no matter what you say or do, he’s not leaving until he says what he came here to say.

“Sweetheart,” he says, and your body responds to the term of endearment with goosebumps. “Why are you crying?” he asks as he steps towards you, but you step back.

“Why are you here, Dean?” you ask, throwing your hands up in exasperated defeat.

“You invited me,” he responds, confused by your question. “And I gotta say, Y/N, I’m glad I came because you’re making a huge mistake here. You don’t love him.”

“Of course I do. I just married him, for god’s sake. He’s kind and funny, and he takes care of me. He’s a good man,” you defend.

“That doesn’t mean you should marry him, Y/N!”

“At least he wanted to marry me. You didn’t think I was good enough for that!”

“What?”

“I know you, Dean. When we were friends before we started dating, you always used to talk about settling down and getting married one day. Having a couple of kids and a dog and a white picket fence. We were together for over five years, and whenever I brought it up, you shut me down or changed the subject. You strung me along instead of telling me you didn’t love me and letting me go.”

“I didn’t mean—I did love you. I still do. I didn’t ask you to marry me because I was scared I wasn’t enough for you. I was always gone, always hunting some creature from hell, always putting you in danger. I couldn’t drag you into all that. I love you too much—”

“That’s bullshit, Dean, and you know it! Sam and Eileen got out of the life just fine. If you wanted to make it work, you’d have made it work. Fuck, I thought we were working!”

“We did work because we loved each other, but sweetheart, every time we saw each other, you knew the exact number of days or weeks it’d been since we’d last seen each other, and it killed me. Because you deserve better than that.”

“Shouldn’t I have been the one to make that decision? Been the one to tell you if I couldn’t handle the time apart or you hunting monsters every other week for months on end? No,” you hold your finger up at him. “Don’t answer that because you know what? I don’t care. It was a mistake to invite you today.”

“Then why did you?” Dean asks, and you frown, taken aback by his question.

“Because as stupid as it sounds, I thought you might still love me. That we still had a chance. That just maybe, you’d…” you sigh. The worst thing you can do right now is tell him you wanted him to stop the wedding; wanted him to be the reason you called this shit-show off.

“I do love you. I made a mistake when I let you leave me, and you’re making one right now. You don’t love him like you should. Like you loved me. And if you go through with this, you’ll regret it.”

“Did you miss the part where I said I do in church? In front of God and a whole bunch of witnesses - you included?”

“You can get it annulled. He’s not right for you, sweetheart.”

“And you are?” you scoff, exhausted with the whole situation.

“Yes!”

“You’re unbelievable, Dean! I’m married. Happily.”

“You said you know me. Well, I know you, too, Y/N. You’re not happy. I know what you look like when you’re happy and in love. And this isn’t it. You don’t love him. He loves you, sure. That’s clear from a million fucking miles away, and maybe that’s why you’re marrying him. But you don’t love him. And if you’re set on staying with him, you’re never going to have a happy ending—just remember that.”

“Then why didn’t you stop me?” you finally let it out. The thing you’d secretly been hoping and praying that he’d do.

“Because you look absolutely stunning, Y/N. You’ve always wanted to be a bride and get married, and he’s a decent, safe, and stable guy. And I can’t…” he trails off and looks away from you for the first time.

“You can’t what, Dean? Love me? Because you did. Really, really, well. Take care of me? Because you did that, too. Marry me? If being with you means I can’t be a wife, it doesn’t matter because I don’t need to be your wife to be loved and cared for by you.”

Dean’s lips find yours, and you gasp in surprise. He slides his tongue in your mouth, and you moan. You’ve missed his kiss, his taste… fuck, you’ve missed him.

“Say the word, sweetheart, and I’m gone forever, but I need you to know that I never stopped loving you, and I never will. I’ll get out of the life for good. I’ll get a house and a job, and if you want me, want us… we’ll leave here together right now.”

You kiss him this time, knowing it’s wrong, but it feels so right. You haven’t felt like this since before that fateful dinner where Sam and Eileen told you about their engagement.

“Dean, please,” you gasp against his lips, and he quickly pulls your dress up around your waist and slides his hand into your wet panties.

Dean groans as your slick coats his fingers, and without warning, he pushes two fingers inside you and curls them while thumbing your clit. It’s been so long since you’ve felt pleasure like this, and you quickly fall apart on his fingers.

“Good girl. You must’ve needed that, sweetheart. Even our first time together, you didn’t come that fast,” Dean growls in your ear, and you shiver at his warm breath brushing against your neck and hair. “Mattie boy’s not much in the bedroom, huh?”

The mention of your husband’s name should snap you back to reality, but it only does the opposite, and you drop to your knees and undo his belt. You moan when you uncover his hard, leaking cock and wrap your lips around it.

“Fuck, baby girl, I forgot how good that mouth is,” Dean growls, sliding his hands into your hair and pulling on it. “So pretty with my cock in your mouth, sweetheart.”

He still knows what to say to get you going, and his words make you moan around his cock, smirking when it makes him push in further. “Fuck, Y/N, need your pussy, sweetheart.” He pulls himself from you and helps you stand.

Dean pushes you onto the bed and reaches under the skirt of your dress to pull off your panties. Once he’s thrown them across the room, he grabs your ankles and pulls you towards the end of the bed, wrapping your legs around his waist.

You grab the skirt and pull it over your waist, giving him a good view of your dripping pussy.

“Fuck, so perfect, baby girl,” Dean rasps, teasing you by sliding his stiff cock between your soaking folds, coating himself in your slick.

“Dean, please!” you beg, wanting him to stop teasing you.

“You need something, sweetheart?” he smirks, pushing the tip of his cock into you and pulling out again to tap it against your clit.

“I need your cock inside me, Dean. Please!” you beg.

“Alright, baby girl. You ready for me?” he asks, his gaze trained on yours. The second you nod, he pushes in and stretches you perfectly, ripping a low moan from your throat.

“Fuck!” you gasp, your walls fluttering wildly to comfortably accept him.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” His concern for you is sweet, making you smile and reach your hand out to grasp one of his.

“Yeah. Forgot how big you are,” you grin, and Dean smirks at your response as he pulls out and pushes back in, a moan now ripping from his throat.

“It shouldn’t be this hot to fuck you in a wedding dress, especially when I’m not the groom,” he growls as he sets a slow and hard pace, slamming into you as hard as he can and pulling out agonisingly slowly.

“Dean!” you whimper, and Dean presses your thighs further into the mattress. You push up, resting on your elbows and watch him pound into you with abandon, moaning as he pushes in and out of your core.

“Fuck, sweetheart, not gonna last. Your pussy feels too fucking good,” Dean growls, his hips speeding up, his eyes fixed - like yours - on him disappearing and reappearing from inside you.

His fingers tease your clit, making you fall over the edge in the most powerful orgasm you’ve had in years. It’s no exaggeration - the last time you felt like this was by Dean’s hands before you broke up.

He slams into you one last time, pushing against your cervix and stills. With a roar, he empties himself inside you, and the feeling is euphoric, sending you into a smaller climax that makes him hiss as your walls squeeze his sensitive cock.

Once he’s caught his breath, Dean pulls himself from your core, and you wince at the loss. You feel his come pour out and watch as he looks down at your abused hole and smirks at the mess he’s left there.

“Y/N?” you hear from the door, and both of your heads snap towards the unexpected voice.

“Matt!” you gasp. “Look, I can explain.” It’s the first thing that comes out of your mouth, and it’s a lie because how the hell do you even start trying to explain this?

“Don’t,” Matt scoffs. “We haven’t even been married for two hours. You’re still in your wedding dress!”

“I know. I didn’t intend for this to happen, but Dean—”

“Dean?” Matt asks in disbelief. “The Dean that broke your heart? That Dean?”

You gulp and glance at the man in question before looking back at your husband and nodding.

“Why is he even here, Y/N?”

“I invited him,” you mumble weakly.

“You…? Invited… why?” Matt is fuming, and you can feel the rage coming off him in waves, and honestly, you don’t blame him for a second.

“I wanted… no, needed to see him one last time—” Matt’s scoffs cuts you off.

“We’ll, you’ve certainly seen him, haven’t you? And for god’s sake, cover yourself up! I don’t need to be reminded that my wife was unfaithful on our wedding day!”

You quickly pull your skirt down to cover yourself, and the shame you feel is overwhelming.

“Do you still love him?” Matt asks, his tone softening. You gaze towards Dean, wanting to get a read on what he’s feeling. “Don’t look at him; look at me.” You take a deep breath and look at your husband. “Do you still love him?”

“Yes. I never stopped,” you say, telling Matt the truth. After all, he deserves that.

Matt nods sadly, accepting what you’re telling him. “Did you ever love me?” he asks, and your heart breaks to know what you say next will hurt him.

“Yes. I do love you, Matt. I’m just not in love with you. I’m sorry.” Tears slip from your eyes, but you quickly wipe them away.

“That’s what I’ve always been afraid of,” Matt says, a soft smile on his face. “I suppose I should be glad it happened now and not years from now when we’ve made each other miserable. I’ll get annulment papers drawn up. Let you know when they’re ready to be signed.”

Frowning, you glance at Dean, who looks just as confused by the turn of events as you are. Looking back at Matt, you see that despite the tears in his eyes, he’s still smiling softly at you.

“Y/N, when you told me about Dean, I knew you’d never love me the same way. I just hoped I’d be enough to make you happy. But I see now it was naive of me to think I could do that.”

“Matt, I—”

“Take care of her, Dean,” Matt says as he turns and leaves the room, leaving you and Dean dazed and stunned.

“Well, that went surprisingly well,” Dean announces. “You okay, sweetheart?”

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly, unable to think straight with your wedding ring weighing heavy on your finger and Dean’s seed still dripping down your thighs.

“You wanna get out of here?” Dean asks, crouching before you and placing his hands on your cheeks. “Go out to the cabin and try to figure this out?”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” you smile when Dean presses his lips to your forehead.

“Alright, let me grab your things, and we’ll get you out of here.”

Tags: @acitygrownwillow @akshi8278 @ashbatz @candy-coated-misery0731 @chriszgirl92 @deans-baby-momma @deans-spinster-witch @deansbbyx @deanwanddamons @duncanhillscoffeecups @foxyjwls007 @giggles1026 @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @hoboal87 @impala67rollingthroughtown @iprobablyshipit91 @jackles010378 @jamerlynn @jc-winchester @k-slla @kazsrm67 @kmc1989 @lacilou @ladysparkles78 @leigh70 @lyarr24 @maliburenee @michecolegate @mrsjenniferwinchester @nancymcl @negans-lucille-tblr @nelachu2423 @octoberclidan @perpetualabsurdity @roseblue373 @sandlee44 @sexyvixen7 @snackles87 @spnbaby-67 @spnwoman @stixnstripesworld @stoneyggirl2 @suckitands33 @synmorite @tristanrosspada-ackles @twinkleinadiamondsky @waters-2567 @winchestergirl1720

#j3bingo #18+#tw: cheating #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester

262 notes · View notes

mimis-memes · 2 years

Text

🍎 ｡:*• ─ SEXY ABC. › ( a list of questions, from A to Z, to help develop some headcanons about our muses. most questions are nsfɯ, so please make sure you’re not a minor and read at your own risk ! )

send a pairing + one or more letters for some headcanons regarding our muses’ sex life !

A ─ After care. Do they take care of each other after sex ? How ?

B ─ Breeding. Is this one of their kinks ? Do they often have unprotected sex ? Have they ever had any pregnancy scares ?

C ─ Condoms. Do they use them ? Do they have a preference ( color, flavour, etc... ) ? Have they ever had an accident ? Would they continue anyway, if they’ve forgotten/run out of them ?

D ─ Dreams. A wet dream my muse has had about yours, and whether they’d want to make it come true.

E ─ Experimenting. Are they willing to experiment new things ? Is there something they’d like to try with their partner, but haven’t had the chance yet ? Any experiments gone wrong ?

F ─ First time. How was their first time together ? Was any of them nervous ? Did it live up to their expectations ?

G ─ Games. Do they play any games involving sex ( like adult board games, throwing dice to decide what’s their next position, engaging in roleplay, food play, etc... ) ?

H ─ Humour. Are they the kind to share a laugh during sex ? Has something funny already happened to them ( breaking the bed, one of them falling off the couch, funny noises, etc… ) ?

I ─ Infidelity. Has any of them ever cheated on their partner ? Whom have they cheated with ? If not, is it something they could do ? If yes, have they told them or has the other found out ? Could they forgive and forget ?

J ─ Jewellery. Do they own any sexy jewellery ( like butt plugs with rhinestones, piercings in intimate areas, cock rings, collars, etc... ) ? What do they think about it ?

K ─ Kissing. How important are kisses in their relationship ? Any favourite kind of kisses ? Do they have any rituals involving kissing ( never leaving for work without kissing the other, always sharing a kiss goodnight, etc… ) ?

L ─ Lingerie. Do they enjoy wearing it and/or seeing their partner in lingerie ? What kind of lingerie do they find the sexiest ? Any other clothing they love seeing their partner in ( like grey sweater pants, wearing nothing but an apron, really short shorts, etc... ) ? Do they often wear what the other likes, just to please them ?

M ─ Masturbation. Do they engage in it ? Together or alone ? Do they enjoy watching their partner masturbating ? Do they use any toys, or just their hands ?

N ─ Nudes. Do they send them to each other ? Do they save them on their phones ? Do they keep them to themselves, or do they show them to their friends ? Have they ever sent one to a wrong number ?

O ─ O’clock. What time do they usually have sex ( mornings, late at night, during lunch break, etc... ) ? Are they usually in a rush, or do they take their time ? How about on weekends / holidays ?

P ─ Public. Have they ever done it in public ? Were they caught ? Do they have a favourite public place to do it ?

Q ─ Questions. Is there anything they’d like to ask their partner, but never had the courage to ? Any questions they’d rather avoid ? Do they discuss everything as a couple, or are there any taboo themes ?

R ─ Recording. Have they ever filmed themselves having sex ? Did they watch it together afterwards ? Has anyone else seen their videos ?

S ─ Spanking. Is this one of their kinks ? If yes, who’s the spanker and who’s the spankee ? Any favourite positions ? Do they use just the hand or any other spanking implements ( like the paddle, belt, whip, hairbrush, etc… ) ?

T ─ Turn ons & offs. What do they do to turn each other on ? Is there something the other does that turns them off ? Have they told them about it ?

U ─ Unusual. What’s the most unusual place they’ve had sex at/in ? Was it a good experience ? Would they repeat it ? Is there an unusual place they’d like to try ?

V ─ Video call. Have they ever shared a sexy moment with each other during a video call ? What were the circumstances ( long distance, trying to cheer up/tease the other while at work, etc… ) ? Did they enjoy it ?

W ─ Walk of shame. Has one of them ( or both ) ever done a walk of shame ( trying to leave the place the other shared with roommates/family members unnoticed but being caught ) ? How was it ? What were the reactions ?

X ─ X-rated. Do they watch any x-rated movies ( porn ) ? Together or alone ? Do they have a favourite type ? Do they try to reenact them afterwards ?

Y ─ Yucky. Is there something they find particular disgusting or unpleasant in regards to sex ? Something they’d absolutely refuse to do, even if the other really wanted it ? Have they already denied the other some kinks because of this ?

Z ─ Zones. What are their most erogenous zones ? Does their partner know all of them ? Do they make sure to stimulate each other in said zones ?

☕️ ㅤ

#rp meme #rp memes #headcanons #rp character development #character development #rp prompts #ask memes #ask prompt #roleplay meme #sinday #sinday meme #rph #rpc resources #rp resources #roleplay resources

2K notes · View notes

queen-haq · 3 months

Text

Fic: Never You (Penelope x Colin) - Part 2

Rating: R

Fandom: Bridgerton (TV show)

Spoilers: S3 scene released yesterday.

Summary: They may have been friends once but his callous words decimated their relationship. Determined not to have anything to do with him, Penelope is ready to move on. But Colin isn’t giving up, not at all. Friends or not, they are connected for life - and he intends to remind her of that.

Excerpt:

“You would hate me for not wanting to court you. You would be that selfish?”

“Of course you would think that.”

“What else is this if not punishment?”

Masterlist (contains links to Part 1 and my other stories)

Chapter 2

Penelope sipped her cup of lemonade, scanning the crowd in front of her. They were at Lady Hathaway’s ball, another social engagement in a series of endless ones, and she was bored. Whereas these events served a purpose in the past, now she was no longer in search of a husband or gossip. The gatherings weren’t all work however, there were many an evening when Eloise and she would die from laughter at others frivolity. And then there were the dances. Penelope loved to dance but she wasn’t very popular and not many gentlemen asked her to partner. Often Colin would be the only one. A part of her knew his invites were more for her benefit than his but she always assumed he enjoyed their moments together as well - but now that she knew how embarrassed he was to be seen with her, she cringed at those memories.

“Good evening, Pen. Enjoying yourself?”

She almost choked on the liquid at Colin’s unexpected appearance beside her. She thought he would avoid her company, hoped for it actually after their last conversation at the park, but there he was. Stubbornly she took another sip, refusing to speak to him.

“You look lovely tonight.”

She rolled her eyes.

“As pleasing as the new wardrobe is, I must admit it’s your hair that is most… intriguing.”

In her peripheral vision she saw his eyes roaming over her, and every nerve in her body tensed. It was difficult to breathe. For as long as she’d known him, she loved him. Being flushed and breathless around Colin was nothing new, but there was something different about the reaction he evoked in her now. There was no longer a soft, sweet warmth that enveloped her. Instead something dark and caustic surged through her, a swirl of tumultuous emotions that left her reeling with confusion when he watched her in the strange, new fashion that he had at the park and now. It probably had something to do with the anger she felt towards him but it wasn’t just that. She didn’t understand it, she didn’t like it, and she needed it to stop.

“Oh, you’d like to know how I am?” Colin continued, unfazed by her silence. “Quite well, actually. London air has been surprisingly refreshing, although I’m still not fond of the rain.”

“I do not wish to discuss the weather with you, Mr. Bridgerton,” she replied stiffly, straightening her back while her eyes remained fixated on the flood of people circling the dance floor.

“Then what shall we discuss?” he mused. “Would you like to hear about the gifts I brought back for everyone? Or would you rather share more about your time in the country?”

“I would not.”

“Alright, let’s discuss your falling out with Eloise. My sister refuses to speak on it but maybe I can pry the truth from your lips.”

“You’d be foolish to try.”

“How about a dance then? Would you join me for a waltz?”

“No.”

“Fine. Quadrille it is.”

Irritated, she turned to find him smirking at her. Her heart pounded in her chest seeing the wicked glint in his eyes, the mischievous tilt of his lips as he deliberately goaded her. “You’re trying to provoke me.”

“Is it working?” he asked with a cheeky smile.

“I won’t be indulging your whims, Colin.”

He pouted at her. “How unfortunate.” Eyes glued to her face, he drank from his cup. “Shall I take a turn about the room, Pen? Perhaps I’ll run into Lady Portia and ask her if she’ll arrange a dance for the two of us.”

Pen quirked her eyebrow. “I certainly won’t stop you from dancing with Mama if that’s what your heart desires.”

Colin laughed heartily, and instantly Penelope noticed Lord Fife and some of the other gentlemen glancing at them. And they weren’t the only ones. Nearby were Eloise and Cressida Cowper, watching her with disdain. Feeling self-conscious at all the attention they were drawing, Penelope stilled. “I’ve asked you to leave me alone, Mr. Bridgerton.”

His sigh was heavy with resignation. “I see we’re back to unpleasantries.”

“I don’t understand why you’re here. Aren’t you worried about Lord Fife and his gaggle laughing at you?”

“I don’t give a damn about what he says.”

“That’s certainly not true.”

The easy smile on his face dissolved, replaced with an intensity that held her transfixed. Regret loomed over his features. “I am truly sorry, Pen. I shouldn’t have said what I said. I wish I could tell you there was a reason why I behaved so foolishly but I can’t. I was intoxicated, yes, but that doesn’t excuse my behavior.” He took a step closer, his hands tantalizingly close to her own gloved ones. “I will do anything to earn your forgiveness. Please. Just tell me what you need.”

They were in a ballroom crowded with people but all she saw was Colin standing in front of her, his eyes soft and pleading, voice trembling with emotion. Yes he hurt her, wounded her so deeply that she spent weeks in despair trying to understand how he could be so cruel, but seeing him so torn up made her recognize he was sincerely apologetic. If she was honest with herself about that fateful encounter, what devastated her the most wasn’t him putting her down in front of others, but the sinking realization that he never really could love her. And that wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t fair to be angry at him for not reciprocating her feelings because love was not something that could be forced or demanded. And despite their newly fractured relationship, they were close friends once and she didn’t want him to continue suffering because of her. “I forgive you.”

Stunned, he stared at her. “You do?”

“Yes. We’ve both been unkind but it doesn’t serve any purpose to hold on to that pain.” She offered him a smile. “So you needn’t worry, Colin. Everything’s resolved between us.”

The cloud of worry departed from his face, his lips broke into a mischievous smile. “Does this mean I can have the next dance?”

She paused, her stomach twisting into coils. “Our friendship, Colin, it complicates things. It makes everything more difficult and…” Wringing her fingers together, she glanced down at her hands. “You’ll be traveling soon and I’ll be moving away from London once I’m married. We won’t see each other often and it wouldn’t be appropriate for us to exchange letters then. I wouldn’t want my husband or others to misconstrue things.” She looked up at him through her lashes. “It’s best if we end our friendship now.”

Before he could respond, they were interrupted by Eloise and Cressida.

“Colin, Penelope,” Eloise greeted them, her demeanor markedly cold as she turned to Pen. “Brother, I’m quite parched. Would you bring me some lemonade? Cressida will accompany you.”

“I would love to hear more about your travels,” Cressida cooed.

Jaw clenched, Colin kept his eyes centered on Penelope. “Pen and I are in the middle of a conversation.”

“Colin, be a gentleman!” Eloise chastised.

“It’s alright. We’re done speaking.” Penelope felt his keen stare upon her, he refused to budge, but it seemed to finally dawn on him that Eloise was not going anywhere. Reluctantly he walked away, with Cressida alongside him.

“Leave my brother alone.” Eloise’s words were saturated with heated rage. “Colin doesn’t know what you’re capable of, the damage you’ve caused to him and the rest of our family. He doesn’t deserve to be hurt by you.”

“Then you should tell him to keep his distance,” Penelope snapped back, and then regretted her tone instantly. “Eloise, I know you’re angry at me but you must know I would never deliberately cause Colin any harm.”

“You already have.” The pain in Eloise’s eyes was evident, causing a tidal wave of shame and guilt within Penelope. “Do you think he could ever forgive you if he knew the truth about who you are? He would hate you. We both know that.”

“Then maybe you should tell him.”

Eloise shook her head ‘no’. “I would never do that to my brother. He holds you in high esteem, the truth would break his heart. Like you broke mine.”

She stormed away, leaving Penelope staring after.

Her words weighed heavily on Pen’s mind, and she desperately needed air to compose herself. Her stride was quick as she made her way out of the ballroom, walking towards the large garden. There were some guests scattered around the grounds but as she went deep into the maze on the property, she found herself alone in a private corner behind the hedges.

For a long time she pondered Eloise’s words, the accusations echoing in her mind. As much as she’d tried to defend herself, Eloise was not interested in forgiving her. And deep down Penelope knew she didn’t deserve it. Her actions had hurt others, especially the Bridgertons, and even though she had only written about them to protect them, the end result was still the same.

Yet there was a part of her that didn’t regret her actions, because Colin was living the life he wanted and Eloise was no longer under suspicion.

Most of all, Lady Whistledown had given Penelope the kind of freedom she had never imagined. A voice to speak her mind and leave a mark in the small word she inhabited, and enough money to secure a healthy future. It was selfish of her but she didn’t care. She was Lady Whistledown and she was proud of it.

“You’ve been lying to me, Pen.”

She turned around immediately. Colin was only a few feet away, moonlight shining brightly upon him. He’d always towered over her, but standing there to his full height he looked regal and statuesque. While he’d never been a wallflower, there was something intrinsically shy about him from living in the shadows of his formidable father and brothers. He had indicated as much in his letters and in some of their private conversations. But the Colin from their recent encounters, the one staring at her now, appeared to be a different person. More confident, sure of himself. And it was reflected in his poise and gait as he sauntered closer. His thumb was pressed against the palm of his other hand, idly stroking his skin, as if in deep thought.

“You should not be here,” she replied. “If someone were to come upon us-”

“Your betrothed would not approve?”

“There would be a scandal!”

“Yes, of course.” There was wry amusement in his voice, his blue eyes twinkling. “I’ve been making discreet inquiries about your activities, amongst friends and others. I even approached Mrs. Varley and your mama earlier, and they both confirmed my suspicions.” He dipped his head to the side. “Albeit inadvertently.” Eyebrow quirked up, he sent her a teasing smile. “There’s not been any hint of a suitor, Pen. None at all.”

She peered at him, horrified.

“There is no engagement is there, Pen?” He came to a stop in front of her. “You lied to me. And I need to know why.”

Red hot anger coursed through her veins, she was so enraged that every sense of propriety and decorum left her brain. “You arrogant prick!” She charged at him. “How dare you?”

Before she could shove him away he gripped her hands, forcibly holding her tightly in his arms.

“Is it that difficult for you to imagine someone would want me? That there is a man out there who could love me and want to marry me? You find that so inconceivable, Colin?” Her breath grew ragged as she tried to break free from his grip. “Did it never occur to you-”

“You don’t get to end our friendship, Pen.” His eyes were dark and volatile, so deep that every moment she held his stare felt like sinking into the abyss. It was she who had lost her temper but now it was Colin who looked untethered, clinging to her. “You don’t get to walk away from us.”

Her heart beat thunderously in her chest, her stomach in knots as she realized she was trapped against him. There was no escape. He was occupying every inch of space, filling her senses with his scent, overwhelming her with his presence as his close proximity wreaked havoc with her insides.

“You are my friend.” Colin’s voice vibrated with raw, desperate urgency that shook her to the core. “My confidante.” Lips parted, his gaze trailed down to her mouth, down the length of her neck, settling on the highs of her breasts. No one had ever looked at her with such ferocity before, making her feel utterly exposed. “You’re…” His voice trailed off, like he couldn’t finish his thoughts; he was distracted, caught up in his world. Suddenly his hand was on her neck, the other wrapping around the back of her head. Frozen in his arms, she was simply too enthralled to move. His long lean fingers traced along her skin, searing through her heaving breasts, until his index finger hooked along the neckline of her dress.

It was such a simple thing, his finger tucked into the cleavage of her dress, but her body burned at his touch. She couldn’t take it any longer, unravelling in front of him as wetness gushed between her legs.

“Have you always been like this, Pen?”

She swallowed audibly. “Like what?”

His left hand loosened its hold on the back of her head, shifting so that his thumb now traced the contours of her lip. His gaze met hers, her body trembled. The complexity of emotions in his eyes was unsettling, she didn’t understand it at all. Why was he doing this to her? Why was he making her feel so completely vulnerable?

“So disagreeable,” he murmured, his soft breath humming against her skin.

And then just as she decided enough was enough and she needed to make her escape, his mouth closed over hers.

To be continued...

A/N - As always, feedback is loved and cherished, and encourages the muse to write faster :)

If you'd like to be added to the taglist, please drop me a note/comment.

#polin #penelope x colin #bridgerton #colin x penelope #my fics #never you

82 notes · View notes