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the-case-book-of-fanfiction · 4 months

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Crawl Home To Her

Ship: Astarion x fem!Tav/reader

Summary: As awful the feeling of blood on the skin is, sometimes it can be helpful, you have to admit. At least, when it comes to Astarion, blood is always helpful. You'll have to take his word for it—and that's oh so easy bathing with him.

Word Count: 5,461 words

Warnings: sexual content (18+) blood, gore, nudity, sexual & non-sexual touching, bathing each other, soft Astarion, established relationship, brief mention of past sexual encounter, dealing with past trauma, teasing from Karlach, mention of dismemberment, fluff & smut mix

18+ Warnings: brief fingering (f receiving), tiny bit of a hair kink, sensual touching, semi-public sex/nudity

Note: Part 2 of Burns Like Rum is coming soon! But here's a little something to tithe you over until the sequel (Sweet Like Rum) is ready!

☟ Continue below the fold ☟

Shafts of pale sunlight fell on your face as you walked through the forest, your arms swinging at your sides, small critters running amok in the bushes around you. Birdsong filled your ears, pleasantly light and summery, reminding you distantly of a childhood memory you couldn't quite reach. The weather was warm enough that you were thinking you might have to change into something lighter. The few weapons you had on you were already starting to make you break out into a sweat.

For a day that had started with murder, the weather was surprisingly nice.

You hummed as you walked—the song pulled from your childhood, the words long forgotten but pieces of the melody clunking around in your head. You strung them together the best you could, tapping out a rhythm against your leg.

You were on your way to the waterfall you'd spotted several days ago while hunting. It was small and nothing too violent. The pool it fell into wasn't deep enough to drown you, nor was the flow of water all that fast. You trusted it—and the rock ledge behind it—would suit your purposes quite nicely.

Coming upon the pool was like stepping into one of the fairytales you had heard in your youth, sitting upon your father's knee in a tavern, listening to a traveller tell a story you weren't sure was entirely true.

It was guarded by willow trees with branches that swayed in a breeze you hadn't felt until you came upon them. Pushing the curtain of branches away revealed an almost perfectly circular clearing, the ground covered in vibrant green moss that squished delightfully beneath your feet and sprung back up when you stepped off of it. Patches of flowers sprouted all around, pink and yellow and purple blooms that grew up to the sun. The pool was as blue as the sky above, clear and shallow, surrounded by a few feet of soft white sand. The water shimmered in the sunlight, rippling over the pebbles that covered its floor. From the pool, the water flowed into a thin river that could hardly be called a river and out into the woods.

You sat by the pool's edge and pulled off your boots. They were just as bloody as the rest of you, the sticky and quickly drying substance staining the black leather. You splashed water over them and scrubbed with a cloth you had designated for this purpose that had once been grey.

Only after your boots were clean did you stand back up and step into the soft sand. You wiggled your toes, smiling at the feeling. You breathed in the crisp, sweet air. It smelled faintly of flowers and citrus, a scent that was familiar, though you couldn't place it.

You stripped slowly, hissing and wincing as you tugged at the places where blood had stuck the fabric to your skin. It acted like glue when dry, staining your skin and leaving a mottled pattern across your flesh. The fabric of your shirt had grown stiff with semi-dried blood.

One by one, you pulled off belts and straps holding weapons, the gloves you protected your hands with, your shirt, your trousers—until you were standing naked at the pool's edge. You gave yourself a cursory inspection, searching for any wounds you had acquired in the fighting this morning that you hadn't noticed; it wouldn't be the first time you'd walked away from a fight and realized you were injured only hours later. But, this time, there was nothing.

Usually it was Astarion who noticed you were injured, catching your smell in the air when it shouldn't have been. But you were drenched in so much blood already that you imagined it would have been very hard to pick out your distinct scent.

You waded into the pool, taking your clothes with you, and sat at it's deepest point. Standing, it reached your knees; sitting, it almost came to your shoulders. You scrubbed the blood from your clothes, using the soap you had brought with you.

You watched the blood and soap swirl together in the water and flow toward the river, a thin stream of red and bubbles slipping away from the crimson cloud surrounding you. You almost felt bad to ruin the clarity of the water, but the others—back at camp—were taking far too long to wash the blood from themselves with your limited store of water. This was better, in the long run.

Astarion would have a field day with this if this wasn't goblin blood, you thought to yourself, staring at the blood drifting just below the surface. He would drink it, from time to time, but never happily.

You scrubbed at your clothes until your fingers were stiff and sore and the blood was no longer coming out of the fabric. You inspected them and deemed them clean enough to put back on the moss, spread out so they would dry faster.

To clean yourself, you headed toward the waterfall. You climbed up onto the stone ledge behind it, reveling in the surprisingly gentle spray of water that reached you and the stillness of the water that it fell into, high enough to reach your knees.

You stepped under the water. It cascaded over you, dousing you in its coolness that reminded you of the first time Astarion had ever touched you—

—gentle hands, cascading down your sides—fingers lifting your chin so you would meet his gaze—a kiss to your forehead—a hand on the small of your back—his lips on your own, warmer than you had anticipated—his fingers in your hair, keeping your head off the ground—his hand slipping between your legs—his little giggle when you shuddered beneath him—the pleasured sigh from his lips as he slid inside of you—

Stepping out from underneath the water, you shook your head, banishing the memory. You had spoken recently about all of this. He'd told you, "I don't think I want you to think of me in terms of sex." He'd said, "I don't want to be just a body for you, darling." And though he'd teased you that you were more than welcome to "sustain yourself" (his words) with your memories of him while he took time away from intimacy, some part of you still felt like you violating his wishes any time it was his body that you thought of, rather than of, well, just him.

You wiped the water from your eyes and knew your tears had mixed in with it; Astarion had been very vulnerable with you, so you knew his reasons for it all. You had two responses: either unbearable sorrow that he had been forced to endure it all (which the current cause of the crushing weight in your chest), or blinding rage that birthed the desire to see Cazador's head on a spear.

You carded your hands through your wet hair, trying to work out the tangles. Your fingers came away covered in watery blood.

"Mind if I join you?"

You jumped, eyes flying open, and looked up. Leaning against the stone wall was the vampire himself, a gentle smile on his face. Gods, how you loved that smile. In this light, you couldn't tell his eyes were red and his fangs were hidden. If you didn't pay attention to how pale he was, you could imagine he was just an elf again—the life he deserved.

Astarion still wore his clothes, which were slowly darkening as they soaked up the spray of water and splattered with as much blood as his handsome face, but his boots were placed neatly next to yours on the moss. He'd cleaned them already; how had you not heard him before?

While he waited for your answer, aware of your admiring gaze on him, he pulled his shirt off over his head, mussing the curls you loved so much. He stripped quickly, nearly falling over when his trouser leg caught on his foot, and left his clothes in a pile on the rock ledge. Perhaps you were imagining things, but his skin looked paler than it had this morning, when you'd been rudely awoken by a horde of goblins invading your camp.

You held your arms open to him. "I'd like that very much."

He stepped into your arms, wrapped his own around your waist, and buried his head in your neck, breathing in deeply. "My love," he whispered, his lips against your skin. He kissed your neck softly and pulled away, cupping your face in his hand, to look into your eyes. "Are you alright?"

You nodded. "I'm okay."

"No injuries this time?" Astarion's eyes slid down your naked body, examining, his gaze concerned when it had once been sensual. You felt yourself relax in his arms, at ease with his concern. It felt real, honest in a way you hadn't had a chance to be yet. It was natural, somehow, to be checking each other for injuries in the time you finally caught together, away from the others.

"Not this time," you said, leaning into him. More watery blood dripped from your hair and across his chest, leaving streaks that made it look like he'd just returned from a rather messy feeding.

He kissed the top of your wet head. "Good." He leaned away to smile at you. "I was worried you'd run off to take care of your injuries by yourself, if only to keep me from smelling the blood."

You shook your head. "If only we'd been attacked by something you could drink from, satisfy your hunger for a few days." He smiled weakly and you knew the thought had been on his mind, too. "What about you? Are you okay?"

He spread his arms and did a little twirl for you. You giggled at his antics, glancing over his skin, pleased he was comfortable enough to even be naked with you. "Yes, darling. Not a scratch on me."

The two of you looked at each other, your hair already damp and clinging to your head, and his curls slowly being matted down by the thick mist of the waterfall. His ears poked out, more noticeable than normal.

Astarion bent and picked up your bar of soap. "May I help you wash off all this grime?"

"Please," you said, your voice soft but as loving as you could make it, your eyes fixed firmly on his.

He lathered his hands with soap and scrubbed gently at your skin. His nails, kept trimmed and neat, were hardly more than a light sensation as he worked at the dried blood until it crumbled away from your skin and ran down your body in red rivulets. His touch was soft, caring where it had once been lustful and groping. You leaned into his touch, enjoying the sensation of his fingers digging into your tired muscles, and held him. You adjusted your hold on him as he moved across your body—an arm draped across his shoulders, a hand on his bicep, your fingers against his chest, your head on his shoulder.

You looked up at Astarion, blinking quickly to keep the water out of your eyes. His gaze remained fixated on your hips as he gently washed off the blood, but he smiled, aware of your stare.

"See something you like?" he asked, tone playful.

"Someone I love," you corrected. He looked up at you, a tender smile growing on his lips. "Someone I love dearly." You leaned close, cupped one side of his face, and kissed the other. "I love you, Astarion."

He kissed your cheek, too. "And I love you." His lips found yours. He kissed you with a sweetness that simultaneously broke your heart and mended it. You wrapped your arms around his waist. He hummed happily into your mouth and cradled the back of your neck.

The pair of you fell into a tight embrace. You felt the adrenaline drain from you and leave you limp in his arms, your hot skin going cold under the water. Despite how suddenly you must have slumped against him, Astarion held you with ease. He gave the crown of your head a quick kiss, then made an unpleasant sound of surprise from the back of his throat.

"Darling, do you mind if I wash your hair? There's an awful lot of goblin blood in it."

You forced yourself to stand up straight on your own, still holding his sides for support. "Oh, yes—that would be from Karlach throwing one she'd just chopped into over my head." Even as you said the words, you felt the blood splattering into your hair again and shuddered.

Astarion grimaced. "Let me help you with it, then." He lathered his hands and put them in your hair. As he fell into a rhythm, you closed your eyes and let him doing the work, your thoughts drifting...

At first, you weren't sure why you had even woken in the first place. The light coming in through a crack in the tent's opening was still the watery and grey color of pre-dawn, much earlier than you usually woke. You frowned and pushed back into Astarion, his arm squeezing you tighter, sleep once again tugging at your eyelids.

And then you heard a shout, vicious and loud. It was close to camp, maybe even in camp. The shout came again and you realized it was Lae'zel's war cry.

All at once, the sounds of a battle filled your ears. You jerked awake in an instant, clambering onto your knees and shaking Astarion awake next to you. Of course the one day Astarion decided to indulge in the very human activity of sleep was the day you and your friends were attacked.

"What's going on?" he mumbled as his eyes flickered open, his words slurred together.

"Come on, grab your knives," you said, pulling your lightest set of armor on over your clothes. You were suddenly very relieved Astarion had decided skin to skin contact was a bit too much for him last night. "I think we're under attack."

He woke just as quickly as you had. He swore, dragged a quick hand through his hair, and grabbed his knives. He waited until you had your own weapon in hand before he opened the curtain flap of his tent.

The camp was a sight to behold. Already it was trashed and overflowing with goblins. Some were already on the ground, their blood oozing everywhere in the dirt and grass. Gashes from Lae'zel's sword seeped blood and gristle, if she hadn't horribly disfigured the corpses and turned them into little more than lumps of flesh. Many of them bore scorch marks that ranged from minor burns to melting flesh. It smelled horrendous and nearly acidic; you bit back the bile in your throat.

A dismembered arm fell at your foot. You kicked it away on instinct, looking up to see Karlach ripping a second goblin limb from limb.

"Now that's just vile," Astarion said, still looking at the arm, a fang poking out over his curled lip.

"Complain about it later," you said, grabbing his chin and giving him a quick and customary 'good morning' kiss. "We've got to help the others."

"If you insist."

Astarion ran to Karlach's side; you headed for Shadowheart and Gale. Wyll was approaching, too, cutting a path through the goblins.

"Morning, you two!" you said cheerily. "How'd this happen?"

"We're not sure," Shadowheart said, kicking a goblin in the face as it ran at her with a scream. "Lae'zel said they came from the north, just over those hills."

"Odd. I wonder if we camped too close to them for their liking, and now they're trying to do something about it. Are goblins territorial creatures?"

Gale grunted, casting another fireball. "Enough chatting. Let's just kill these things and figure out where they came from and why later. Got it?"

"Fair enough," you decided. "Whoever kills the most chooses dinner for a week."

"I'll take you up on that," Wyll said from behind you. "I'm dreaming of a good meal for once."

Astarion's hands sliding out of your hair abruptly brought you back to reality, to his body pressed against yours and the waterfall at your back, shielding the two of you from the world.

"Where'd you go?" he asked, voice soft. You could feel his fingers toying with the ends of your hair, curling it on his fingers.

"Back to the fight," you admitted. "I just keep wondering how they snuck up on us."

"No matter now," he said. "We'll let Lae'zel criticize us all for not anticipating every possible disaster when we get back, but not yet. Not here."

He went back to massaging your scalp, despite the blood being long gone, and your sighed happily. He smiled and kissed your forehead, adding pressure. A content whimper slipped from your lips and you blushed instantly as his eyes lit up; he'd heard far more obscene from you, yet still the slightest sounds you made embarrassed you and delighted him.

"My, my, the noises you make for me, lover," he teased, giggling. He wrapped his hand in your hair and tugged, hard enough to draw a loud moan out of your chest.

Astarion covered your mouth with his hand, his eyes playfully wide. "Shhh, unless you want the others to come looking. We're not that far away from camp."

Heat rushed through your body. "Oh, gods, Astarion, I'm— I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to— And I certainly didn't expect it to be that...that loud—! I..."

He swallowed your frantic apologies with a kiss. Against your lips, he whispered, "If you can keep quiet, though...I can grant you all the pleasure you want. You need only ask, darling."

Your heart skipped several beats in your chest. You put your hand up to his face. "Oh, I don't... Star, I don't need you to, I wouldn't want you to...feel obligated." He pulled his forehead away from yours to see your face. "We agreed not to do anything until you're ready. And that wasn't that long ago, so... I don't want you to be uncomfortable—"

Astarion cupped your chin with his hand, dragging his thumb across your lower lip. The words died in your throat. He met your gaze, his crimson eyes open and honest, and said, "Your pleasure is a gift. Even if I don't want to be touched yet, that's not stopping me from touching you. Only you can stop me from touching you."

"Star..."

He pulled you into a tight hug. You wrapped your arms around him, suddenly too aware of the raised scar you felt against your arms. "I trust you. Wholeheartedly. I trust you to...to respect my boundaries. To check in with me. To see when I'm uncomfortable. You've already done it, again and again, and proved that you're worthy of that trust. And do I look uncomfortable now?"

You studied him. His pupils were blown. His eyes told a story of contentment. The tenseness you had once noticed laying deep and dormant in his muscles was gone. He looked at you with a fondness you realized now was a profound trust and he stood utterly relaxed in your arms.

So you answered him honestly. "No."

"Exactly, darling. I'm not uncomfortable. I want to do this for you, if that's what you also want. I feel...safe with you. I've never felt like this around anyone before," he admitted, a bit of sadness creeping onto his face, "and I don't want to ruin it. I don't know... I don't know what I'm doing, but I'm going to try to do right by you. So if you want me..." He placed his hand low on your abdomen. Your stomach did flips. He put his lips against the shell of your ear. "Tell me, darling, because I certainly want you. All I ask is that you not touch me, not just yet."

You whimpered. "Please, Star. I promise not to touch you, I promise. But please touch me."

"That's my girl," he whispered. "Spread your legs for me, no need to be so nervous."

You readjusted your stance, widening the space between your previously clenched thighs. His hand filled the gap, cupping you gently. You sighed, leaning your head against his chest again, looking down to watch his ministrations.

Astarion pressed his palm to your clit. You watched his wrist move as he slid his fingers along your slit, teasing you and never quite touching you where you needed him. You whimpered as his fingertip lightly ghosted your entrance, just barely dipping inside before he moved his hand back up, his fingers toying with your clit.

"That's it," he whispered in your ear. "Make those quiet, pretty sounds for me. Show me how you feel."

You rocked your hips against his hand. "Astarion, please..."

He kissed your temple. "Feeling good?"

Your broken moan was your answer. He chuckled, sliding his hand up your side, taking your breast in the palm of his hand. He rolled your nipple between his fingers, making you gasp and buck your hips against him. He closed his lips around it and sucked gently.

"More," you whispered. "Please. I need...I need you."

"Alright, darling, alright," he said against your skin. He rubbed your entrance for another moment, then slid his finger inside you. You clenched down on him as you sighed your pleasure. He curled his finger inside you, rubbing away at your walls, and you gasped loudly.

Astarion grinned. "Make those noises. Moan for me. I want you to show me how good this feels, show me you want me." You gripped tightly onto him, one hand on the back of his neck and the other on his hip. Your breaths grew heavy and your whimpers louder. "Yes, that's it! Be loud for me, my sweet, the loudest you've ever—"

A branch cracked in the forest. A voice called out your name, then Astarion's. You jumped a mile and Astarion's finger slipped out of you. You stared at each other with wide eyes.

"D...did you hear that?" you asked. "Or am I hearing things?"

As if an answer, the voice—Gale's—shouted again, "I know you're over here, I can see your boots!"

"Shit," Astarion sighed. He craned his head to peer around the curtain of water. "What the hells do you want?"

"Is she with you?" Gale asked. "Shadowheart sent me to find you both, the rest of us have all finished washing up! There's water left for you."

"That's what we're trying to do, Gale!" you called, reaching an arm through the waterfall and waving at him. "Use the water for something else, we'll make do here."

He harrumphed. "If I had known this was just a few minutes away from camp, I would have come to wash up here ages ago."

You and Astarion exchanged a look. So much for a secret getaway spot.

"Be back soon, or Karlach will start worrying," Gale said, in the tone of a chiding parent. "And no funny business!"

"Oh, shut up!" Astarion shouted, the tips of his ears turning a deep pink. He ducked behind the water again and holding you close. You barely held back your giggles while the two of you listened for Gale to walk away. One slipped out and Astarion hurriedly covered your mouth with his hand. You licked his palm and he pulled it away quickly. "You weirdo!"

You wrapped your arms around him and leaned into his chest. "Yes, but I'm your weirdo. You love me anyway."

Astarion pushed a strand of your wet hair behind your ear. "I love you anyway," he admitted, with a fondness that turned you into mush in his arms. He held you close for several moments, then asked, "Do you want me to continue?"

You thought about it, then shook your head. "Not just now. I suspect Karlach will be on her way to investigate the waterfall I didn't have the decency tell anyone about very soon."

"Very well," he said. "I'll finish you off later in my tent, then. As long as you can keep quiet for me, darling." He gave you that charming smile that made your stomach do flips.

"I thought you liked me loud," you teased.

Astarion rolled his eyes, playful and flirtation in such a comfortable way that it warmed your heart more than any of his touches ever could, delightful as they were. "Only when I have you all to myself, lover." He nipped at your neck, his fangs scratching but not breaking your skin. "Your moans are mine."

You stood together like that for several more moments, his hands on your hips and your arms looped around his neck, your foreheads pressed together. You exchanged dainty kisses, basking in each other in the few minutes left you had alone.

At last, you planted one firm, lingering kiss to his lips. "Let me clean you off," you said. "Though you're going to have to crouch for me to get your hair." Most of the blood and grime had been washed away by the waterfall's spray, but his silver hair was still speckled with it all, and you could taste it on his lips—sour and gritty. No wonder he only drank from goblins as a last resort.

Astarion bent his head down, pressing his forehead into your shoulder and holding you by the waist. You ran your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp and smiling (but saying nothing) every time your touch managed to pull a soft whimper or moan from him without him realizing it.

You washed his body anyway, wiping away the remaining grime and massaging his muscles. You enjoyed the way he relaxed in your arms, quietly asking for more or less pressure.

"My back," he said, voice quiet and almost timid. "Can you...?"

"Are you sure?" you asked, frowning.

He nodded and turned in your arms, exposing his back to you. You started slowly, massaging his upper back and shoulders before working your way down, giving him plenty of time to tell you to stop if he needed to. But he leaned into your touch and responded with more of those gentle and timid—but happy—sounds.

You kissed the nape of his neck when you were finished, rested your head against his back, and wrapped your arms around his waist. His hands found yours and laced your fingers together.

"Thank you, my love," he said. "I've never... No one has ever done that for me before."

You hugged him tighter. "Any time you need me—I'm here. I will always be here." You stepped away and guided him out of the water with a hand. "Come on, we should head back."

The pair of you helped each other dress, though neither of you were wearing anything that required the help. You suspected Astarion just wanted to keep you close; when he got into his cuddly moods, it lasted for hours at a time. You would sleep wrapped up in your vampire's arms, safe and comfortable, tonight.

You were both pulling on your boots when Karlach found you.

"There you are!" she said. "Why didn't you tell us where you'd run off to?"

You shrugged. "I wanted the peace and quiet," you said honestly. "Besides, you all take forever to clean off."

Astarion snickered. "She's right about that."

Karlach sat on the moss, staring at the waterfall. "Well, you're right about one thing, soldier—this place is peaceful."

You hummed your agreement. "Yes. I'm glad we camped near it, or I never would have found it."

"How did you find this place?" she asked.

"Hunting," you said.

"Really? I assumed it must have been when you and Astarion sneak out so the rest of us can't hear you having sex." You choked on air and she laughed. "What? He found it easily!"

Astarion spluttered. "Because I could smell her!"

You sighed. "Karlach, we stopped sneaking off ages ago. We don't need to, we sleep in the same tent now. Rest assured, if anything is happening, it's happening silently and the rest of you are none the wiser to it."

"That doesn't make me rest assured."

You laughed. Astarion smiled at you, the kind of smile that made his eyes seem a little less dark and made you really remember that he was an elf.

"Well, I don't know about you two, but I'm going back to camp," he said. "I'm sure there's much to discuss about these...impertinent creatures who keep attacking us." He kissed your cheek and whispered into your ear, "I'll see you tonight, darling. What we do is up to you."

Before he could leave, you reached over and held his cheek, kissing him firmly on the lips. He smiled into it.

"Lovebirds," Karlach groaned, rolling her eyes, "will you please get a room?"

"The next time we stop at an inn—yes," Astarion said, winked at you, then disappeared into the woods.

You gulped. "I pity whoever is in the room next to us."

Karlach snorted. "I pity you and your poor cervix!"

"Karlach!" You splashed her with water and she roared with laughter.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding! Only slightly."

You huffed, scooped up your weapons, and started back to camp. Karlach followed.

"I mean, in all honesty, you two were so loud that first time we all heard you at camp, even though you snuck away. Kept us all awake, but you sounded like you were having a good time. So clearly he's doing something right, but can you take all of that every time? You were walking with a limp the next morning—"

"Okay, let's change the subject," you said loudly, heat racing through your body. Remembrance pulsed through you again, ghostly touches and reminders of just how easily Astarion made you scream.

She giggled. Gods, she was spending too much time with you and Astarion; he was rubbing off on her. "Oh, yes, because what would poor Gale say if he heard?"

You rolled your eyes. "It's not Gale I'm worried about, it's Astarion. If he hears you, he's going to become insufferable."

"Isn't he already?"

You whacked her with the flat end of your sheathed dagger. She laughed, putting her hands up in surrender.

The others were cleaning up camp when you arrived, scrubbing blood from tents and carpets and hauling away corpses and severed limbs.

Gale waved when he saw you, then jerked his thumb toward Astarion. "Didn't he just wash?"

You looked over at your vampire, only to find him feeding on a goblin. He looked up at you and grinned sheepishly, a trickle of blood sliding out of his mouth and down his neck.

"I just washed him, actually," you said dryly. "Astarion, you aren't that messy of an eater. What on earth are you doing?"

"Oh, so now you deign to eat the goblins," Karlach scoffed.

He shrugged. "What? I'm hungry!"

You spluttered. "You could have just asked me!"

Astarion wiped his mouth with a feral grin. "Well, I'll keep that in mind later, darling." He winked at you and then blew you a quick kiss. He shoved the carcass into the woods and went into his tent, closing the flap behind him.

Gale sighed heavily before looking back at you. "That one. Are you sure you want to choose that one?"

"Yes, Gale, I want that one."

He shrugged. "Suit yourself."

~❊~

Night fell. One by one, the others retired to their tents. Only Karlach and Gale remained awake when you left the fire and slipped into Astarion's tent.

He was laying on his side, reading and drinking blood, the picture of leisure. He closed his book immediately when you laid beside him and pulled you flush against his body.

"There you are," he said, snuggling into your shoulder. "I was beginning to wonder if you were coming."

You reached up and dragged your fingers through his perfect curls. "You don't have to wonder about that ever, Star. As long as I live, I'll be coming home to you. Even if I have to crawl."

"Gods, I love you," he said, wrapping himself around you. You kissed the top of his head.

"I love you, too," you whispered. He sighed happily and cuddled into you, sliding one of his legs between your own and settling there. A few minutes later, you felt the pressure of his knee against your clothed crotch. "What are you doing, mister?"

He grinned at you, showing both fangs. "Finishing what I started," he said cheekily. He began undoing the lacing at the front of your pants. "Now, just lay still for me, dear. And please do your best to keep quiet—I'd hate to have to cover that pretty mouth with my hand. Again."

☞ ❊ ☜

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Baldur's Gate 3 // Astarion Acunin

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munsonthings86 · 21 days

Text

sunkissed

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: soft morning sex w steve <3

warnings: cursing, fluff, clingy!steve, established relationship, smut, praise, tipsy sex, oral (f receiving), penetration, no protection use

an: today (apr. 14) is the day steve and sunshine met ;) so i wrote something a lil special for them. hope you guys enjoy! *minors dni*

wc: 4.1k

steve and sunshine’s timeline

It couldn't have been later than six a.m. The waking sun shed an amber light that tinted your white sheer curtains, as they gently swayed in the brisk morning breeze. The wind blew harshly at times, prompting the sleepy boy next to you to nuzzle desperately closer to your heated touch. His lush, chocolate hair tickled your cheek as his head rested softly against yours when he abandoned his own pillow.

A freckled arm held you tightly against him as he spooned you, a breath that still smelled of beer and some other alcohol fanning your cheek. Usually, you recoil at the sour stench of liquor on people, but you couldn't help but to find it a bit endearing at the moment.

It was Steve after all. You found countless things about him endearing. Even his smelly little morning alcohol breath.

Sailing curious, feather-like fingers across his tanned skin that shined in the golden light, you stared at him in awe. His neck was still littered with stains of your lipstick from where you kissed him the night before. If you weren't so comfortable where you laid, trapped in this blanket of Steve, you'd rush to sneak a picture on your polaroid.

You knew exactly which one of your purses you'd want to keep the picture in too. It was only fair seeing as he kept his own photo of you in his wallet. And another on the dashboard of his BMW. And another on his bedside table.

It began getting hard to keep track of them all. Steve didn't mind though. When Steve would be having a less than ideal day, a rare but not uncommon occurrence, he couldn't avoid the grim ache of how much he missed you. It was such a treat when he would randomly stumble upon a picture of you somewhere, powerless against the blush and smile that would come.

The brightness of your room was blinding and unforgiving to the headache your hangover brought. Your hazy eyes stung when you tried to ogle the sunrise but you willingly gazed anyway. The sky was a gentle blue, cloudless, and full of melodic birds.

The moon still sat high and mighty, glowing, as it was being kissed by the sun's light.

It was such a breathtaking sight. A needle of guilt pricked you when you realized that you were witnessing it all alone.

Your fingers twitched when you thought about waking Steve, but he just looked too peaceful sleeping like this; lips puffy and dry from all his snoring and sleepy mumbles— hair perfectly untamed. Some rogue strands fell over his eyes, enticing you to gently sweep them behind his ears, careful not to wake him.

He groaned when you were unable to resist scratching at his scalp, eyebrows furrowing as his tired eyes failed to stay open. Not careful enough, apparently. "Sorry, didn't mean to wake you," you apologized in a hushed tone, apologetic smile to match.

"That's alright," he mumbled through a small grin, exhaustion weighing his voice down. Unfolding his body from the curled position he was in, his body tensed when he full-body stretched. You loved watching Steve wake up. It was like watching a flower bloom in real time. "What time is it?"

"Almost six," you responded after taking a glance at the dainty clock hung above your vanity. Steve's eyes widened as if he was startled. "Jesus, why're you up so early," you think you hear him say through his yawn. He laid his head down on your chest when he settled.

The hair that draped over his face was pushed back by your fingers so you could admire his lengthy eyelashes from this angle. "Maybe because somebody wouldn't stop kicking me in his sleep," you quipped, poking a finger at his side.

He scoffed in return before adjusting his head to stare back at you, "Well, I hope you find the guy who did that because I, personally, do not kick in my sleep."

You rolled your eyes, "Yeah, tell that to my leg." Steve shrugged as if you insisted on the matter, tossing the duvet over his head before trailing down to your legs. "What're you-"

The question was cut off with a muttered, "I do not kick in my sleep." He prodded at your thigh after each word to accentuate his (false) statement. Giggling at him, you waited for him to return from under the covers but he didn't move. It fell a bit quiet even. "Did ya get lost down there, Harrington?"

"Something like that," soft, sedative kisses to your hip punctuated his reply. It was so easy to be distracted once he had this view of you. Plump thighs that he wanted to sink his teeth into, stomach that he wanted to pepper kisses on, and a tempting honeypot that made his mouth water, on full display for him.

It was a trap that he unintentionally fell into, but was fully delighted to be in, nonetheless. You lifted the duvet from over his head, tittering at the mischievous grin on his face.

Pushing the oversized white shirt that belonged to Steve once upon a time above your belly button, he found comfort between your legs. A knot in the pit of your stomach formed at the tasty mix of curiosity and anticipation manifesting from all that was unfolding.

With booze still lingering in your system, your body was more sensitive than usual. Every little touch Steve gave you sparked electricity along your skin and, greedily, your body chased the sensation each time, clearly unable to stave off its hunger.

His hair tickled you dangerously close to your core and your body seemed to have a mind of its own, hips bucking up on his face involuntarily.

He simply smirked at you, indiscreetly relishing in the way you reacted to him so easily. So needily. Grabbing at your waist, the pads of his fingers pressed hard onto you, and you were sure the two of you would fuse. Your eyebrows pinched themselves together, tighter and tighter, the more impatient you became, mumbled pleas stumbling out of your lips.

Steve reluctantly broke eye contact with you to look down at your heated core that he was certain was desperate for his attention.

Pinning your lower half to the mattress, he left a few taunting pecks to your lacy underwear, loving the way your puffy lips felt against his mouth. A low groan eluded Steve when your nails tugged lightly at his roots after clutching a handful of his hair. The vibration from the sound was like a dull shock to your pulsating cunt.

As if the kisses weren't egging you on enough, the tip of his tongue started flitting about, sweetly licking at your clit and in between your folds. His movements were slow and calculated; giving you just enough but leaving much to be desired, all at once. It was becoming unbearable.

Any discipline you had left in you was long gone.

With one hand gripping Steve’s hair and the other twisting at a stiffened nipple, you tried to keep yourself steady as you grinded yourself against Steve’s face while quiet moans fell from your lips.

His tongue had quit its dance and he wasn’t kissing where you needed him anymore. Instead, he grinned; gawking at you through his eyelashes as you selfishly didn't stop using his face to get what you wanted.

It's almost too much to look at him.

His cock twitched and strained against his boxers, savoring the way you were getting so lost in pleasure. Steve caught how you struggled to maintain eye contact with him whilst you shamelessly flaunted your lack of self restraint.

The pillow by your head fell victim to the squeezing and kneading trap of your hand, helping to keep you grounded. Soft whimpers that poked through the silence of the room were nothing short of music to his ears. Steve always found himself captivated when you got like this. You were so hot.

It’s almost too much to look at you.

"Steve," you fussed. "It's too early to be teasing me like this." Though you were being sincere, you laughed a bit amid your desperation. Steve's carelessness to shave for the past few days left stubble on his jaw and the friction it gave you against your soaked panties was too enthralling.

"Never too early for that," he laughed, tracing a finger along the intricate patterns of your racy bottoms, "but anything for my princess."

He could never say no to you. There were no bounds to what his angel deserved. Your body was hungry and his mouth was thirsty.

Fingers wrapped around the hem of the flimsy material, he unveiled your needy core to his even needier mouth. He drew his own undergarments down with a single hand, the other finding your waist as he settled himself between the sweet temptation of your legs once more.

Steve garnered a mouthful of saliva before slowly spilling it onto your cunt. He watched, mouth agape, as it crept, long, wet and sloppy from the top of your sex to the bottom. It blended in seamlessly with all the arousal pooling around your folds and dripping down your ass.

A reflexive moan slipped from you when he blew cool air onto it, the sensitivity making your body react. He hummed, staring intently at your gorgeous, sopping hole. Any minute now, he was going to be drooling all over himself.

He dotted smooches to your bikini line, addicted to how the sounds you made practically begged him to ease the burden between your legs. Tongue swiping across his lips as if he was starved, he was certain that you were the most appetizing thing he had ever laid eyes on.

His dark, lustful eyes never left yours while he laid his tongue flat against your vagina, a pleased sigh luring itself out at the taste. The sudden contact hoisted your body off the bed.

Steve's eyes flutter shut when you let out the prettiest moan for him. It only drives him to devour you deeper, completely determined to lap up every drop of your nectar. He was already eager to feel you clench and shake against him as you came. The thought alone sent his body to grind his erection against the firm bed.

The satin sheets you dressed your mattress in were smooth and kind of cold on his cock.

Watching Steve like this was so hypnotizing. Him embraced by your thighs, hair wild, eyebrows knitted with threads of lust and focus, chin soaked from making out with your pussy, and fucking himself on your bed from how feral he was; it was all so dirty it left you speechless.

He didn't even have to touch you, really. Just seeing him be so primal was enough to leave you a moaning mess. Brainless for him. Fuck.

Steve's tongue instantly lands on your clit when he goes to tease it, being so familiar with your body and all. He was so hooked on the way you tasted, that he would eat you for hours on end, if you'd let him. He didn't tire. Steve loved the way he could send you into a frenzy with just his tongue. He got so much pleasure from seeing you in pleasure. It was so fucking sexy.

You were already close to your peak considering how aroused and needy you'd been for the past few minutes. Whining when he unlatched from you, he hushed you, running a thumb from your clit down to your entrance.

He didn't warn you before slipping in his long, slender pointer finger and you both let out a satisfied groan. While you moaned at the penetration, Steve moaned at the way your warm, dripping cunt easily dragged him in, gripping his digit. He used his hand to help you reach the high he knew was coming, curling and pumping in and out of you just the way you liked.

His mouth wasn't done with you yet, though.

Steve's tongue was frantic and slippery across your wetness. Your fingers were lost and running amuck in his brunette tresses as you struggled to cling onto reality. Legs trembling and chest heaving as your breathing got rapid, "Steve, Steve, Steve," tore out of you as if it was the only word in your vocabulary.

You didn't have to say anything else. He knew exactly what time it was.

"Mhm," he hums into you. The resonance from his voice tickles your clit perfectly and it's what you need to launch you over the edge. You slipped into a deep pool of euphoria, completely coming undone for him.

Both of your shaky hands held Steve's head firmly against you, giving him nowhere to go but right where you needed him. "Let it go, baby. Give it all to me," his muffled voice wavered a little as he coaxed you delicately.

If your hangover wasn't already making you dizzy enough, then Steve definitely was.

"That's it," he insisted, sweeping a comforting hand along your hips, "Just ride it out for me." His thrusts against the bed nearly brought him to an orgasm of his own but he was determined to save it for you. The way your hole pulsated, it was like it was calling for Steve to fill it.

The tight hold you had on his hair loosened as he crept his way up your body, leaving a trail of kisses behind the further he got.

His face was soaked and covered in an elixir of his spit and your juices, and some of it found solace on your own face when he leaned down to kiss you. The lewdness of it all turned you on more if that was even possible. His smile at you was dopey and naughty and it's wildly infectious.

"How're you feelin'?"

"Dizzy," you confessed, tucking some of his hair behind his ear though it doesn't make it look much neater. Concern straightened Steve's face in the blink of an eye, "Good dizzy or bad dizzy?" The pads of his fingers rushed to your temple to sooth you.

"Good dizzy, for sure," you kissed at his flushed, puffy lips in pure bliss. "Such a good dizzy," your hand trailed down from his stomach to his throbbing member. He was so hard it made you gasp. Steve tended to be harder than usual in the mornings, but this was different.

"You're so hard, oh my God," giggling against his lips, you stroked him agonizingly slow and steady.

"Well, duh. Prettiest girl in the world just came all over my face. How could I not be this hard for you?" His words hitched in his throat when your thumb spread his precum across the tip of his cock, groans rushing out of him.

He thrusted into your hand eagerly, but you soon stopped your movements, much to Steve's dismay. "God, you're such a little tease," he dropped his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling the flirty perfume that still dwelled on your skin.

From your ear to your collarbone, he showered you in open-mouthed kisses, whimpers and throaty hums pouring out when he grinded himself against your velvety ass like a dog in heat.

You could tell how badly he needed you.

"And you're such a little hypocrite," a smile played at your lips, "but you're lucky. 'Cause I need you just as bad," you purred, stretching your leg behind his waist, bringing Steve to hold up your knee.

He slapped his cock on your entrance a number of times before running it along your folds, coating himself in your dripping mess. A hearty moan from you set off sparks in Steve's chest when he plunged his hard length into you.

Your pussy welcomed him in with open arms, surely not wanting him to leave as it gripped him tightly when he pulled out only to thrust right back into you.

His and your moans harmonized as you both reveled in the fervor. A hand flew to the back of Steve's head and held him there, loving the way he stretched you so perfectly. His cock was just the way you liked it; thick and veiny in such a way that it caressed your walls inexplicably well. It's a sensation so good that it makes your mind happily go blank and numb.

You were completely at Steve's mercy.

Steve caught your lips when they fell ajar, kissing you deeply. His head went fuzzy when you moaned shamelessly into his mouth, tongues colliding. Your racing pulse thumped against his fingers as he held you by your neck. Pulling away from the kiss, he slid his hand down your chest and stopped right where your heart beat, reminding you to breathe.

Still, his cock trucked in and out of you at a pace that was so delicious. It wasn't too fast and was in no way slow. It was exactly what you both needed.

"Shit, you feel so good."

Droning, you were unable to form any words other than fuck, yes, and Steve. Your mind, body, and soul was burning with a desire and yearn for him. Eyelids low and flickering, you put up a fight to keep your eyes from closing so that you could cherish this sight of him.

Sweeping back his hair, his eyes fluttered shut when you rubbed at his ear, knowing that he liked it so much when you did that, especially in moments like these. Steve loved the way you felt around him, of course, but it was the little intimate touches that really drove him over the edge. Steve wanted to stay here forever.

Your t-shirt bunched up around your chest, leaving your bouncing breasts on full display for him. Your face pulled against his, breath fanning his face as you mewled and moaned and begged. Pleading, glimmering eyes never leaving him. God, how scenic. You were so dreamy. Steve almost wasn't sure if he was still asleep or not.

You grinded yourself back against him, husky moans sounding from the boy that was making you feel so fucking good. Every hard thrust he gave, teased that little sensitive spot inside of you, and you swore you were in some sort of heaven. You cried out, back curving in ecstasy.

"There it is, yeah," he grunted, resting his hand on the spot where your back arched. "Right there, baby?"

Nodding your head hurriedly, a plethora of "yeah"s tripped out of your lips. He thrusted into your dripping core relentlessly, feeling you clench around him tightly. Your eyes were screwed shut and your legs were shaking like leaves in wind.

That, coupled with the gratification Steve was giving himself earlier, he already knew he wasn't going to last much longer but he needed to see you cum again one more time. At least.

His hand ran down your sweaty frame to where your bodies met, drawing circles at your clit.

"I love that. I love this," he praised the way you clenched around his shaft whenever he touched your clit while he was inside of you. It was wildly addicting. Steve couldn't put into words how heavenly you truly felt. He couldn't believe that you were his.

The moans you let out were breathy and frequent, a sure sign that you weren't far behind your climax either.

"You sound so pretty, baby," he whimpered, nudging his head so that his ear was pressed to your lips, not wanting to miss a single little noise you made for him. His clumsy fingers worked tirelessly at your clit. You held onto his wrist as you became consumed by bliss.

His and your hips collide when you buck yourself back against him as your cunt choked down on his cock, body writhing. If you carried on like this, soon you'd be seeing stars.

It's a nirvana that your past lovers were never able to take you to. Not the way Steve could. Steve loved watching you cum. He'd do anything to get you to cum.

"F-Fuck, that's so good. You're doing so good, sunshine. You're so fucking pretty like this. It’s unreal. Holy shit," he babbled. If Steve didn't stop now, he'd surely explode.

While riding out your orgasm, you felt him go suddenly absent. "Why'd you pull out," you whined, head falling back onto your pillow in protest. But trust him, it's the last thing that he wanted to do.

"Because I was about to fucking cum," he whined back, laughing a bit as he squeezed the base of his raging cock. "When you cum you get so tight. It feels so fucking good, you have no idea, baby," he cooed, rushing back into you, already missing your warmth.

After your two orgasms, your hole was impossibly wet and hot and Steve's dick was absolutely drowning. It doesn't take Steve much to utterly crumble. He was now at your mercy, all whiny and needy and desperate for you, fucking you faster and deeper than before. His gaze never dared to leave your face. You were so beautiful it made his chest ache.

If there were a textbook solely dedicated to beauty, there was no doubt in Steve's head that you'd be plastered all over it. Just look at you.

"How're you so perfect, huh? Why are you so perfect? It's not fair, baby, I swear," his thrusts were becoming sloppy and offbeat. "You could get away with anything with a face like this." Steve Harrington. The king of praise. If his cock or mouth couldn't make you cum, his words surely could.

"You gonna cum for me, Steve?" His forehead dropped onto yours as he nodded, beads of sweat falling on your face and you can't say that you mind at all.

Steve loved having you under him like this. Loved having his hands laced through yours on either side of your head, your legs wrapped tight around him, keeping him in. Loved being able to lower his head just a few centimeters to have his lips clash with yours. He just wanted to kiss you and love you and fuck you like this all damn the time.

"Oh, baby." His mouth falls open as whimpers and moans and groans spill everywhere, warm cum spurting into you. Goosebumps erupted all over his body. As he came, his greedy, convulsing body pushed further and further into you, chasing down his high incessantly.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, keeping him close, while you peppered his contorted face in pecks that were gentle, in contrast to the intensity his body was feeling.

The repeated, grating clanks of your metal headboard beating against your wall slowed and soon quieted once Steve collapsed onto you, totally fucked out and sleepy all over again.

"Fuck, that was so good, princess." A smile pulled at your lips in agreement.

His breathing was heavy and you chose to calm him down by playing with the short little hairs that stuck to his skin from all the sweat.

The crook of his neck was in your face and you noticed the lipstick stains you saw earlier still hadn't faded.

"It looks like you have a sky on your neck," you lilted, finger ghosting over the area below his ear. The sentence made Steve's eyebrows scrunch together. Confused, understandably. Still, he was curious to know what you meant. "I have a what now?"

You reached for the compact mirror on your end table, opening it to give Steve a look, "A sky!"

He blushed at your sweet giggle. "These kiss marks kinda look like clouds and your moles are the stars," you traced them as you spoke. "See? It's a sky," you affirmed with a smile.

Steve only stared back at you with the most lovesick grin on his face. He still couldn't believe you were his. He rested his head back down on your shoulder, drawing invisible patterns along your sternum. "I like the way you see things; the way you think about things. It's so adorable and bright. I love your brain. I love you, sunshine."

Your heart undeniably skipped a couple beats at that. Steve always complimented you, but there was something about how sweet and gooey like honey those words were that made you feel like you were going to burst.

"I love you too, Stevie," you took his freckled cheeks in your hands, planting your smiling lips against his own for a kiss, still tasting yourself on his lips. Pulling away, you ogled the way he beamed, completely and utterly glowing in front of you, the same way the moon outside glowed when it was kissed by the sun's light.

The moon only glows when kissed by the sun.

💌 1 new message from jojo: smut isn’t really in my skillset so im a little unsure abt this lol. but i wrote this with a lot of love, nonetheless! feedback is so greatly appreciated!

#stranger things #steve harrington #steve and sunshine #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x black!reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x you #steve harrington headcanon #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x y/n smut #steve harrington x poc!reader

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 1 month

Text

Honey Girl. Chapter Eight.

chapter one. chapter two. chapter three. chapter four. chapter five. chapter six. chapter seven. series masterlist. the playlist.

Chapter Synopsis - Turns out, you’re not the only ones with a secret.

Pairing - Dadsbestfriend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au

Warnings - cursing. mentions of hospitals/medical settings.

Word Count - 5k

Authors Note - I promise that the reveal was supposed to be in this part!! but I hit 5k words real quick and thought rather than rush it, I’d give it its full own chapter. guess what’s coming next ;). as always, thank you for your love and support and patience and encouragement and kindness. don’t know where I’d be without it <3

as always, if you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging!! reblogs are the only way to circulate my writing, which generates more of it. feel free to send me a comment or an inbox, too!! thanks, my loves!! <3

Masterlist. Inbox.

The sun beams through the white linen curtains, salty ocean breeze drifting through the open window. The rays warm your skin as you kick off the sheets, stretching your arms above your head. You turn over, to find the space next to you empty.

Rubbing the sleepiness from your eyes, you yawn, inhaling the scent of breakfast. Throwing on Bucky’s soft blue button up, you pad out to the kitchen to find him at your stovetop, shirtless and sun kissed.

“I’m getting the full girlfriend experience, huh?”

He grins at the sound of your voice, entire body lighting up with it.

“Girlfriend,” he laughs. “This is the soulmate experience, baby. It’s even better.”

You shake your head, but you can’t fight the smile that etches itself on your face. He looks so at home here, so comfortable. He reaches up to grab a plate from your cupboard, and you feel the sudden urge to burst into tears.

He knows where everything is.

He’s learnt his way around the kitchen just like he’s learnt his way around your heart. Your soul. Your very existence.

“You okay?”

He turns off the burner and glides over to you, warm hands finding your hips like it’s second nature.

“What’s wrong? You like pancakes,” he teases, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead tenderly. “Oh no. Did you want waffles?”

You shake your head, swallowing down the lump in your throat.

“I’m fine,” you say, but your voice cracks instantly.

“Doesn’t sound like it.”

He says it so gently, so carefully. You feel like a precious flower, something to be taken care of, cherished, loved. No one has ever made you feel like this.

“I just realised you… fit, here. Like you were always supposed to. I can’t really remember what this apartment was like before it had you in it too.”

Bucky cradles your face in his hands, tilting your head up to look at him.

“Wherever you are. That’s where my home is.”

You surge forwards to press your lips to his, alive and buzzing with the electricity of being loved so wholly. He reciprocates instantly, wrapping his arms around your back to pull you closer, so you’re chest to chest.

“Your pancakes are going to burn,” you mumble, forehead resting on his.

“Let them.”

“No, don’t let them. I’m not calling the fire department today.”

He laughs, kissing you again chastely before returning to his original position. He plates up your breakfast - pancakes, fruit, granola and yoghurt, with fresh coffee in your favourite mug.

“I could get used to this.”

“And you will,” he flirts, kissing the crown of your head. “Every day for the rest of your life, baby. You’re gonna have to wake up to my face forever.”

You pretend to shudder, laughing when he pinches your side.

“Come on, trouble. Let’s eat breakfast on the balcony and pretend we’re on a tropical vacation somewhere.”

“Sounds perfect.”

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

“We’re really doing this.”

You look up at Bucky, the heavy weight of his arm around your shoulders acting as a grounding agent. Your plates are discarded on the table, cleared and finished, the two of you curled up in your loveseat. The sun is getting warmer, and it’s bringing out Bucky’s freckles, all boyish and glowy.

“We don’t have a choice.”

“Honey girl, there’s always a choice.”

“Not this time,” you sigh, shifting so you can face him properly. “I wanted to do this on our terms, and now I feel like I’ve been forced into it. It isn’t fair.”

“We can wait,” Bucky reassures, confident and understanding. “We don’t have to do anything until you’re ready.”

“I am ready. I have been for a while. It just sucks that it feels like I’ve been pushed in a certain direction, you know?”

“I know,” he soothes, work rough fingertips tracing patterns on your bare legs. “But like you said, we were going to do it anyway. This is still our choice. These are still our terms.”

You press your lips onto his cheek, chuckling when his stubble tickles your skin. He retaliates by attacking you with kisses, planting them all over your face, wherever he can reach. You squeal, hands flying out to his bare chest to try and stop him.

“Your neighbours are going to think there’s a murder happening,” Bucky laughs, fingers sliding up your shirt to rest on your ribs.

“Oh no, they love you too much for that.”

He quirks his eyebrows in surprise.

“They do?”

“The lady that lives next door, Mrs Daniels - she’s like ninety, has that white cat you always see?”

Bucky nods in recognition, so you continue.

“She talks about how handsome you are every time I see her. Always asks when the ‘man that looks like a movie star’ is coming over next.”

He laughs, shaking his head as you tease him.

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious! She probably watches you come and go from her balcony. She’s gonna love it in the summer, when you turn up in your short shorts with no shirt on.”

Bucky chuckles, pulling you into him and leaning his head on top of yours.

“Don’t be jealous, baby. You’re the only one for me.”

“I better be,” you chide jokingly, pinching his thigh in warning.

“I’ve been waiting for you my whole life.”

There’s no humour, anymore. Just love. So much love.

“I’m here now,” you whisper. “And I’m not going anywhere. Ever.”

Bucky leans in to press a kiss to your lips, gentle and filled with a lifetimes worth of promise.

“I love you, honey baby.”

“I love you, Bucky Barnes.”

You let the morning sun slip over you like silk sheets, warm and smooth and completely luxurious. Bucky’s steady breathing grounds you slowly as peace and contentment settle into your bones, weighted and calming. No matter what happens today, you know one thing for certain - you have the security of Bucky’s love to fall back on.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

You’ve been sat in Bucky’s truck for twenty five minutes.

It’s parked down the block from your parent’s house, just out of the way. You were pulling in to their street when you panicked, begging Bucky to stop the car so you could breathe for a second.

“Sweet girl, we’ll be fine.”

“I know. I know,” you exhale. Inhale again. “Why is this so hard?”

“Because we’ve been thinking about this moment ever since that first night.”

“It’s almost been a year.”

That seems to stop Bucky in his tracks for a second.

“It… it doesn’t feel that long. Feels like yesterday. But also, somehow, like I’ve loved you my whole life.”

You lean over the console to kiss him softly, trying to ignore the hummingbird fluttering of your heart in your chest.

“Honey, I can feel your anxiety, remember? If you don’t calm down a little, we’ll both collapse.”

“Sorry,” you laugh, taking a deep breath. “Sorry.”

Bucky intertwines his fingers with yours, thumb running over the backs of your knuckles. Soothing, like a field of lavender gently blowing in the breeze on the first day of spring.

“We have to do it sometime.”

“I know,” you nod, squeezing his hand once, twice, three times before pulling away and fixing your hair in the tiny mirror. “Let’s do this. Now or never.”

You pull up outside your childhood home, instantly relaxing a little at the sight of the colourful drapes and flowers in the windows.

“Shit, Buck. We haven’t even planned what we’re gonna say.”

“We don’t need to. Just speak from your heart, baby. I’ll follow your lead.”

When you walk up the driveway, you know there’s no turning back. You also know that the weight on your shoulders will feel a hell of a lot less heavy when you leave. It’s a double edged sword, but you’re ready to wield it, with love as your armour and Bucky as your shield.

You stand a foot apart and ring the doorbell, bouncing nervously on the soles of your feet.

“Hi, sweetheart. Oh - hey, Buck.”

“Hi, Mama.”

“Hi, Lori.”

“Didn’t expect to see you both today.”

You go to speak, but she continues quickly.

“I’m glad you’re here. We need to talk to you both about something. Come in, come in.”

You look at Bucky, realising suddenly that your chest is filled with a foreign anxiety. It’s his.

You squeeze his hand chastely as you walk past him to enter the house, kicking off your shoes in the hallway.

There’s something in the atmosphere when you walk into the living room. The sun is still shining, everything is in its rightful place… but it feels wrong. You know Bucky feels it too, judging by the way his muscles tense next to you.

“Is everything alright, Mama?”

You hate the way your voice sounds like a child’s, small and naive. Your Dad is sat on the couch waiting, always happy to see you. You press a kiss to his cheek before taking a seat across from him, Bucky sitting next to you. Your Mom joins your Dad, both of them looking at you with too much compassion for a normal day.

“What are you two doing here?” your Dad asks, voice still full of light.

Something inside of you is telling you to abort mission, postpone until further notice. You listen to it, wondering for a second if somehow you and Bucky can send messages to each other telepathically all of a sudden.

“Mama said you needed to talk to me. To us.”

He looks taken aback, only for a second. Something like sadness flashes in his eyes before he paints that familiar smile right back on his face.

“Yeah, we do. You sure you don’t wanna tell us why you’re here, first?”

“It can wait,” you reassure, catching Bucky’s minute nod from the corner of your eye.

“Okay,” your Mom begins. “First of all, I need to tell you not to panic, okay? It’s going to seem super scary, but it isn’t.”

Bucky slides closer to you by a millimetre, but you feel it like it’s a mile.

“I don’t really know how to tell you this, honey, so we’ll just start from the beginning. Jack?”

Your Dad nods before taking over the storytelling.

“It all started last year. I was doing some work in the backyard. One minute I was mowing the lawn, the next I was lying on the ground.”

All of the colour drains from your cheeks, and Bucky slides ever so slightly closer again.

“We thought maybe it was heat stroke, or dehydration. No cause for concern, and nothing your Mom’s iced tea couldn’t fix.”

She takes his hand in hers, both of them with their eyes fixed on you.

“But then it happened again. In the shower, this time. I didn’t hit my head, luckily, but I did whack my shoulder against the tiles, which hurt like hell.”

He laughs, and so does your Mom, but you’re not sure what’s funny. Anxiety is rolling off you in waves so strong, Bucky’s worried he might pass out.

Your Mom takes back the reigns, continuing.

“I was insistent that he saw a doctor, which he was reluctant about. Luckily, he agreed, finally,” she gives him a look, “and we got referred to a specialist.”

“What kind of specialist?” you choke out. It feels like someone is sitting on your chest, constricting your lungs with every passing minute.

“A cardiologist.”

It seems to be that word that unravels everything for you. All you can think is cardiologist heart attack cardiologist surgery cardiologist. Serious. Serious. Serious.

“Sweetheart?”

You grab Bucky’s hand, praying that the familiar touch will ground you back down to Earth. When it doesn’t, you feel like you’re falling, down and down and down with no end in sight.

“Honey, it’s okay. Hey, listen to me. You’re okay.”

Your Mom sits down on the other side of you as your Dad kneels down, forcing you to look at him.

“Sweetheart, don’t panic, okay? Everything’s going to be fine. I know it’s scary, but I’m okay.”

“For now,” you whisper, limp in your throat forming.

“I know it’s a lot to take in, and I know it’s probably not what you were expecting us to say. We thought we’d wait until we had answers to tell you… but it’s taking longer than expected. Which is why we’re telling you now. We don’t want you to feel like you’re in the dark.”

Bucky’s running his thumb over the lines on your palm, reassuring and steady. He knows exactly how to comfort you, like a warm blanket wrapped around your shoulders. If you listen carefully enough, you can hear the drumming beat of his heart. You tune into it, letting the familiar rhythm calm you down.

“Sorry,” you murmur. “I’m being dramatic.”

“You’re not being dramatic,” your Mom responds, squeezing her hand over your knee. “It’s overwhelming. And we’ve just… thrown it at you, with no warning. It’s a lot to take in.”

You’re anxious and scared and completely lost. You’re also safe and home and completely surrounded by love from all sides.

“I’m okay,” you nod, taking a deep breath.

Your parents return to their couch across from you, but Bucky’s hand doesn’t let go of yours. If they think it’s strange, they don’t say anything. You have a feeling they’re a little preoccupied.

“Now what?”

“Your Dad is still undergoing tests to get to the root of the issue. Whatever they find, we know we’ll all be okay.”

“Your Mom’s right. I have an appointment this afternoon for an EKG. They’re trying to rule things out slowly. We’ll get to the bottom of it, sweetheart.”

“Are you okay?” you ask, suddenly realising you’ve accidentally made this about you.

“I’m fine,” he laughs. “Seriously. I know it’s scary, but I feel good in myself for the most part. The most annoying thing is that I can’t predict it - it just happens. Very inconvenient, if you ask me.”

Your parents laugh, and this time, you try to chuckle with them.

“You’ll keep us updated, won’t you?”

Bucky’s voice surprises you, somehow. His fingers are still intertwined with yours, but you’ve been so focused on your Dad, you almost forgot he was there.

“Of course, Buck.”

“And if you ever need a ride to an appointment or anything, all you gotta do is ask, alright?”

“You offering to take me on your motorcycle?”

“Sure,” Bucky laughs.

“Absolutely not,” your Mom says at the same time.

You chuckle for real, now. This feels like normality - the four of you, joking around. You have to remind yourself, sometimes, that Bucky knew your Dad before he ever knew you. You were away at culinary school when they met, but you were told stories instantly about this new guy in town who bought the old Garage and drives a cool truck. Your Mom, of course, didn’t fail to mention his big blue eyes and chocolate brown hair, or the way his shirt hugged his biceps. You thought she was exaggerating, when she said he was handsome.

Oh, how wrong you were.

You’re one hundred percent sure you’ve never met a more beautiful person. Maybe it’s your Tethering talking. Maybe it isn’t. You’re not unaware of the way people look at Bucky - he’s got this old school movie star thing going on, and people seem to eat it up. You get it. You get it more than anyone.

But it isn’t his pretty face that makes your heart skip a beat. It’s just him. Him, with his contagious smile and healing laugh and observant eyes. Him, with his confident demeanour but gentle touch, his mind reading abilities, his talent for making you feel like you’re the only person in the room. He’s a rarity, Bucky Barnes. A diamond in the rough. You remind yourself everyday how lucky you are.

He knocks his knee into yours, pulling you out of your daydream. He gives you a look that asks are you okay? to which you nod subtly in reply. A conversation, somehow both silent and loud.

“As much as I’d love to stay here all day, we should get ready to go. My appointment is soon.”

Your Dad strides over to you, wrapping you in his arms. You instantly feel like a little girl again, safe and protected no matter what. You bury your face into his chest a little more, inhaling the familiar scent of your home.

“Everything’s okay, sweetheart,” he whispers into your hair. “Promise.”

You nod against him, tightening your arms ever so slightly. He gives you a squeeze, letting you know he got the message.

As you’re putting your shoes on in the hallway, you can hear your Dad and Bucky chatting away about the baseball game from the previous night, routine easily resumed. Your Mom brushes your hair back from your face, looking at you carefully.

“I almost forgot why you came here in the first place, babygirl. What’s up? What did you want to tell us?”

Your heart skips a beat and Bucky feels it, glancing over to you with concern in his ocean blue eyes.

“It’s okay, Mama. It can wait.”

She raises her eyebrows in scepticism.

“Promise,” you reassure. “Another day.”

She doesn’t look convinced, but lets it go anyway, pressing a kiss to your cheek gently.

“We’ll call you after his appointment and let you know what they say. We love you. So much.”

You hug her fiercely, realising that you don’t do it often enough.

“Love you guys. More than anything.”

Bucky gives you a nod that tells you he’s ready to go, both of you leaving a little different than you entered.

“Call us as soon as you get out of that room, okay?”

“We will, Buck,” your Dad laughs, mock saluting his best friend.

Bucky chuckles, falling into step next to you as you walk down the driveway. You make your way down the street, out of your parents view, before your knees give out. He manages to catch you just in time, strong arms wrapped around your middle. You both sit on the kerbside, Bucky rubbing soft patterns into your back through your shirt.

“Baby, hey. You okay? Talk to me.”

You take a deep breath, looking at him with watery eyes.

“What if it’s bad, Buck?” you whisper. “I can’t do this without him. He’s the best Dad in the world.”

Bucky pulls you closer, fitting you into his side perfectly. Two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, made for each other.

“They don’t lie to you, honey. They’d tell you if it was really serious. All you can do is wait, and hope everything will be okay. Which it will.”

You rest your head on his shoulder, letting his warmth calm you down.

“My Mama knows something.”

“Like what?”

“About us. She didn’t say anything, but I could see it on her face. She didn’t push it any further, but she was definitely suspicious.”

“We’ll tell her soon. Give it a little more time.”

You nod, wrapping your arms around his bicep tightly. He presses a kiss into your hair, inhaling the scent of your shampoo as he does it.

“Let’s go home, hmm? We can sit in the sun for a while, chop up that pineapple we bought yesterday.”

“Sounds perfect,” you whisper, looking up at him.

The afternoon hits his face just right, all warm yellow light and soft angles on his cheeks. The intermittent salty breeze ruffles his hair, all fluffy and sea swept. He looks like an ancient statue, a work of art from the renaissance, a museum piece. The sun could burn out tomorrow, but you’ll have a life source forever. Your Soulmate.

Bucky takes your hands in his and helps you to your feet, heavy arm slung over your shoulders as you walk back to the truck.

Your light in the dark. Your water in the desert. You’ve never been more grateful for him.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

“Close your eyes.”

Bucky’s driving you home, the sound of the ocean waves hitting the shore a replacement for the radio.

“What?”

“Close your eyes, sugar. I want to show you something.”

“How are you gonna show me if my eyes are shut?”

He chuckles, pinching your thigh.

“Just shut up and close your eyes.”

You smile gently before doing as he says, covering your face with your hands for good measure.

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise. You’ll like it, I promise.”

You relax back into the seat, allowing the breeze from the open window to whip through your hair. Eventually you come to a stop, Bucky clicking off your seatbelt for you.

“Keep ‘em closed.”

Bucky sprints around to the passenger side, swinging open the door and wrapping his arms around you. He practically carries you out of the car, ensuring you don’t trip while you have no vision. He plants you on two feet, making sure you’re steady before he lets go of you.

“Okay. Open your eyes.”

You blink slowly, adjusting to the brightness of the afternoon.

You’re in the middle of nowhere. The two of you are stood on a huge, grassy plot of land, overlooking a small cove of the beach. You’re tucked completely out of the way, not a neighbour to be seen. All you can hear is the ocean, the birds, and the sound of your thumping heartbeat.

“Where are we, Buck? It’s pretty.”

He takes your hand, looking out towards the water.

“This is gonna be our house.”

Your head whips around in shock, confusion written all over your face.

“What?”

Your voice is barely above a whisper, but Bucky hears it, clear as day.

“I bought this land years ago, when I moved to town. I always knew I wanted to build a place of my own, but I could never get the plans off the ground. Something didn’t feel right. And then our Tethering happened…”

He squeezes your hand tightly, pulling you into his side.

“And everything fell into place. I was waiting for the right moment to show you, and it feels like you needed it today.”

You can’t speak. You’re completely lost for words, looking out at the perfect view. Turning to him, you throw your arms around his neck, burying your face in the crook of it and inhaling.

“Thank you,” you murmur into his skin. “It’s so perfect. You’re so perfect.”

“I’m so lucky,” he chuckles. “My God, you were worth the wait. I’d wait another ten lifetimes if I meant I got to love you again for one of them.”

You’re glad he’s holding onto you, or you’re convinced your legs would give out. You lean up to press a kiss to his lips, savouring the spearmint on his tongue.

“I love you,” you pray into his mouth. “I love you so much I can barely breathe.”

He kisses you back, harder, determined to show you exactly how he feels about you. Your fingers tangle into his hair, making him groan as you tug. His hands slide down to your ass, gripping harshly as he pulls you into his front. He wants every inch of you pressed together.

When you pull away, he rests his forehead against yours.

“You can have anything you want, you know.”

“Hmm?”

“With the house. I know we talked about it that night, at dinner in California. But if you think of anything else you’d like, all you gotta do is tell me.”

“One storey or two?”

“I was always thinking two.”

“Then I’d like a balcony, on the master bedroom. I love mine back at my apartment, especially in the summer.”

“Done,” he confirms, pecking your lips again.

“And a porch,” you whisper. “That we can sit on and watch the waves, when we’re old and grey.”

“I’ll be grey a lot sooner than you,” he jokes.

“You’re a lot more relaxed than me,” you laugh. “So I doubt that, actually.”

You rest your head on his warm chest, both of you swaying to the song of the ocean.

“We’ve got plenty of time, Buck.”

“All the time in the world, honey girl.”

The two of you stay wrapped in each other for a little while longer, enjoying the company of the one person you were destined for.

You can’t remember why you were ever so against soulmates. Loving Bucky is the easiest thing you’ve ever done.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

The two of you spend the rest of the afternoon curled up on the balcony, letting the sun warm you from the outside in.

“Pineapple will always remind me of those margaritas,” Bucky smiles, throwing a piece into his mouth. “Our first date.”

“And last, apparently,” you laugh. “We haven’t been on one since.”

“I mean, we sort of date everyday, right?”

“Yeah, I guess we do. After we’ve told my parents, we don’t have to worry anymore. We can go out whenever we want, whenever we want.”

“Exactly,” he murmurs, leaning in to kiss you tenderly. “Not long now.”

The sound of your phone ringing startles you both, your hand flying out to find it in the cushions of the loveseat.

“Hello?”

“Oh, thank God. I half thought you were dead.”

“Not dead, Lacie. Just busy.”

She laughs, and you realise suddenly how much you’ve missed that sound.

“You’re back in town, right?”

“Yeah, just for a few more days. Then I’m gonna go back to Cali and pack up my stuff for good.”

“Perfect! Me and you are doing dinner tomorrow night. I want you to meet Cameron.”

“Really? Finally! I’m so excited, Lace. Your place, or are we going out?”

“Come to mine. Cam is the best cook, seriously. I’ve gotta run, we’re picking out a couch today. A couch, babe! Can you believe it?”

“Happy couch shopping, you two,” you laugh. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Love you.”

“Love you, bestie! Bye!”

You can’t help but smile when you hang up the phone.

“She’s gonna love having you back home again, isn’t she?”

“Oh, yeah. I can’t wait to see her more. I know she’s been so busy with her soulmate and me with work and with you, but I miss her like crazy. We text all the time, but it isn’t the same.”

“She knows about us, right?”

“Yeah,” you giggle. “She was the first person I told.”

“Thought so,” he laughs, pulling you back into his side. “Knew you wouldn’t be able to keep it from her for long.”

“She can practically read my mind. It was easier to avoid the truth over the phone, but the minute I saw her in person, I crumbled. She gives me this look, and I’m done for.”

Bucky chuckles fondly, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“I can’t wait to get to know her properly.”

“Oh, she’s gonna love you.”

“I hope so.”

“She will, trust me. She used to talk about how hot you were all the time. Pre-Cameron, of course.”

“I’m glad you’re finally getting to meet him.”

“Me too. I feel guilty, you know. It was the biggest moment of her life, and all of a sudden I’m up and leaving across the country, barely keeping in touch through scattered text messages. I was so wrapped up in you and in work, that I wasn’t there for her like I should have been.”

“I’m sure she’ll understand if you say this to her, honey baby. You have to remember that her Tethering was a lot less complicated than ours. They just got on with things, as easy as can be.”

“I guess you’re right,” you murmur into his chest. “I’ll tell her all of this when I see her tomorrow.”

He wraps both arms around you, pulling you impossibly closer. You relax instantly, the warmth of his skin and familiarity of his touch soothing you like melted honey.

Your phone rings again.

“I bet it’s Lacie moving the plans around,” you chuckle. “She always underestimates how long it takes her to get everything ready.”

You find your phone from under the cushion and answer it.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

“Mama?”

“Where are you?”

The sun disappears behind a cloud, sending a shiver down your spine.

“I’m at home.”

“I need you to go and get Bucky, and come to the hospital.”

Your heart stops in your chest, and Bucky has to breathe for the both of you.

“Why?” you ask, barely above a whisper.

“I’ll explain when you get here, but it’s more serious than we thought.”

She sounds scared, which in turn terrifies you. She’s the bravest person you know, your Mom. If she’s afraid, you know it’s bad.

“Okay,” you choke out. “I’m leaving right now. I, uh, I’ll get Bucky, and - do you need anything? Does Dad? I can bring whatever… whatever you need, what do you need?”

“Nothing, baby girl. Just you guys, for now, okay?”

“Okay. Yeah, okay. I, uh, I- I- I’ll leave right now. Where is he?”

“Follow the signs for Cardiology when you get here. Room 4.”

“He’s in a room? In a bed? Mama, please. What’s happening?”

You’ve never heard your voice sound so weak. You’re kicking yourself internally - you have to be strong for her. You need to be.

“Baby, just get here as soon as you can, okay? Get Bucky to drive. I love you.”

“I love you too. So much.”

You try to hang up the phone, but your hands are shaking so much that you’re unable to press the red button. Bucky does it for you, intertwining your fingers with his.

He pulls you to your feet, smoothing your hair back from your face.

“It’s all going to be okay, honey. Put your shoes on and grab your purse. I’ll get my keys.”

He kisses your forehead gently, letting his lips linger for a second before pulling you inside and shutting the balcony door.

He doesn’t let go of your hand the entire time, even as you drive to the hospital.

You feel like you’re drowning. Repeatedly slipping beneath the surface of the water, lungs heaving, desperate to stay afloat.

Bucky feels it, too. All he can do is hold your hand and hope for the best.

All he can do is hold your hand and hope for the best.

tag list part one

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upsidedownwithsteve · 9 months

Text

Steve Harrington x fem!reader[4.7K] a little oneshot looking into the relationship that follows from ISITTGG. just smut, my dudes 18+

Steve Harrington was throwing gummy bears at your bedroom window.

It was barely dusk, the sun just setting, that pretty kind of twilight light settling over the town in a blue-pink glow. The grass below your window was still too long, flowers still in bloom despite the way summer was leaving and September had begun. It smelled like honeysuckle and lavender, the air outside was clean like chlorine, like freshly cut grass and the crisp like the beginning of fall. It wasn't as warm as it had been, but when you braced your hand on the sill and looked down to the space between your house and the Harrington’s, your boyfriend was standing there in just a short sleeved t-shirt.

His jeans had a rip in the knee and his hair was wild, no doubt from driving around town with the car windows rolled right down, Eddie and Jonathan fighting over riding shotgun and the radio station. His cheeks were flushed, like he’d been going too fast, like he’d seen Chief Hopper’s flashing red and blue lights in his rearview mirror, laughed and gave him a chase.

Or maybe, just maybe, he’d been too eager to get back to you.

He grinned at the sight of you, head tilted back, the crawling ivy that trailed over the bricks of his house brushing his hair. He had more freckles than ever from the summer passed, a dust of them over his nose, the leftover line from a scratch on his right brow from when Eddie dared him to land an ollie after a keg party.

Steve couldn’t skateboard.

“There she is,” the boy called out. He leaned against the wall, ivy and honeysuckle staining his white t-shirt. “Did you get prettier?”

You snorted, an unattractive noise that only made Steve grin wider. You leaned out the window a little further, pyjama shirt getting pulled by the wind. “You saw me four hours ago, Harrington.”

Steve squinted up at you, a half smile, a half shrug, tongue pushed to the inside of his cheek. He looked like trouble, some kind of James Dean daydream. “Point still stands, princess. You gonna let me in?”

You rolled your eyes like it was all too much effort, even though your heart was bursting against your ribcage and the thought of Steve sneaking in through the garden gate to see you, standing in wait at your front door so he could slip up the stairs behind you. He was leaning against the bricks when you met him round the front, cheeks hot when he leaned in to press a chaste kiss to one, ‘cause your parents were in the kitchen making pasta and drinking red wine, greeting the boy warmly and throwing half serious threats up the staircase about keeping your bedroom door open.

You ignored them, closing it behind Steve as he wandered into your room, throwing himself onto your bed like he always did. The window was still open, curtains catching in the breeze, the soft static of your record player singing something he didn’t recognise. You watched the boy stretch out across your sheets, sneakers toed off over the edge and hitting the floor with a thud as he grinned at you. Steve had been yours for a month now, best friends for a decade longer but the sight of him against your pillows still made your inside somersault. It was a giddy feeling, when he coaxed you closer, sitting up so you could stand between his legs, denim jeans scratching at the outside of your bare thighs and he hummed when you wound your arms around his shoulders, fingertips playing with the longer strands of hair at the nape of his neck. His hands found the backs of your legs, the soft skin just under the curve of your ass and he nosed at your sternum, grinning when he realised you weren’t wearing a bra.

“Been thinkin’ ‘bout you all night,” he murmured softly, lips grazing the cotton of your sleep shirt - his shirt. “Too soft, right?”

You couldn’t help but smile, the kind that made your feature scrunch up, cheeks warm and aching with that new kind of happiness that you hoped would never get old. “The softest,” you declared. “You were supposed to be having fun with the guys.”

Steve craned his neck back, face tilted up to you and the last of the sunlight that came through the corner of the window. It turned one eye lighter than the other, honey and whisky, his lashes casting shadows over one sunset coloured cheek. “I did, until Eddie tried to start a fight with Carver. Again.” His fingers pinched softly at the fat of your ass, making you squeak. “What’s a guy gotta do to get a kiss, huh?”

You pulled at his hair in retaliation, smirking when he only grunted in response. You ducked down a little to meet him, nose bumping his, loving the way his eyes found your lips, focused on your mouth. “He can ask nicely, for a start.”

You shrieked when you were hauled against the boy, laughter caught in your throat as Steve threw himself and you back onto the mattress, both of you landing clumsily amongst the pillows, on top of each other. He had you pinned before you could get your bearings, legs on either side of your hips as he grinned down at you victorious. He leaned in, crowding you, the smell of his cologne, smoke that you hoped was Eddie’s and not his, all around you. He was part of you now. Steve clung to your bed, he stayed in your sheets, left a part of himself behind on your pillows.

“Please, princess,” he whispered against your lips.

It was easy to give in, easier than trying to pretend you wouldn’t have kissed him without politeness. It was a sticky, soft thing. The sweetest kind of kiss, the kind that came from being so happy that you were finally able to put your lips to his. He tasted like vanilla, like cherry coke and Steve. It was the easiest thing in the world to let him tug you into him , his smile pressed against your own mouth, as he hummed, falling onto the mattress again and pulling you onto his lap.

You petted at his hair, pushing the mess of it away from his forehead so you could sit some kisses there too, grinning when he squeezed at your waist, the soft of your hips. “You hungry?” You asked quietly, enjoying the warmth of him underneath you, like he’d brought the sun home with him. “Have you had food?”

Steve shook his head, hair brushing your cheek as he tried to tuck his face into the crook of your neck, nosing at the collar of your shirt so he could kiss at your throat. “Had some cereal, at like, ten,” he mumbled.

“Steven,” you admonished, “s’almost nine at night.”

“Mmm, call me that again, s’hot,” Steve teased.

You shoved at the boy’s shoulder, rolling your eyes and hiding your smile even though Steve was grinning. You eased off him, lying next to him on the bed instead. Your gaze met his, so close you could count those new freckles. “I could make you somethin’. Grilled cheese? You gotta eat, babe.”

It was lighthearted the way Steve pulled one of your legs over his hip, palm climbing up your bare thigh, so big his fingers were curling round to the inside, close to grazing your cunt. He kissed a line over your jaw, nuzzling into the crook of your neck until you squirmed. His voice was salacious, only half joking when he said:

“Oh my god,” he groaned dramatically. “That sounds better than head right now.”

It wasn’t out of the blue, that kind of talk, not really. Your sex life with Steve was still new, experimental in the best way. It had been almost five weeks of learning about each other in a way that you’d never gotten to before, working out how the other liked to be kissed, touched, teased. There’d been hurried make outs in the back of his car, on your living room sofa before your parents came home, quick touches and messy grinding on his bed before you had to return to your own.

And when the time allowed it, when Steve got you to himself for hours on end, he kissed you until your jaw ached, until his lips were as pink as yours, working you up with his fingers until he could slide his cock inside of you and press you into the mattress. It was all new, shiny and glittery, warm bodies in the beds you used to make pillow forts out of, his cologne on your sheets, your perfume on his sweaters you stole. You shared bottles of sunscreen, swam in the backyard pools when the day turned to night and it felt like you were floating between stars, leftover barbeque smoke in the air as your legs touched Steve’s under the water.

It was a summer of sex and chlorine on skin, taking late night drives to the seven eleven in the next town over, icee’s for dinner, throwing gummy worms into the boy’s open mouth until he pulled you into his back seat and you could taste the sugar on his tongue. Steve was yours now, and god, your boy was summer incarnate.

But he hadn’t done that. Not yet.

You squirmed, feeling that too hot flush creeping up over your chest and neck. You rolled to the side, lying on your back so you could squint at the ceiling and try to work out how to make a joke out of it. You laughed, a little weakly, half shrugging and refusing to meet his gaze when the boy leaned up on his elbow to look down at you.

“I, uh, I wouldn’t know.”

Steve stared at you, one corner of his lips quirking up like he thought you were telling him a joke. When you didn’t laugh, he wrinkled his brow. “What?”

You didn’t feel embarrassed per say, in fact, you were reminded of a time - years and years ago - when you and the boy were trapped in a cupboard, standing too close to each other in the dark as you whispered about the people you’d kissed, the things you’d been to shy to do.

“What?” you shrugged, unaffected by Steve's bewildered stare. “So no one’s gone down on me, it’s not a big deal.” You tried hard not to sound defensive but Steve must’ve picked up on it anyway.

“No, no,” Steve reassured, leaning in closer to dot a kiss to your cheek, another on your forehead for extra reassurance. “It’s not a big deal at all, babe. I just, I just thought - I assumed - you know. An ex would’ve offered, or something.”

You took the hem of the boy’s shirt in between your fingers for something to do, your gaze lowered when you shrugged again. “I mean, I don’t think a girl’s pleasure was at the forefront of most seventeen year old boys minds - or eighteen - and then, I don’t know, Chris--”

Steve made a face at the mention of the other boy.

“--he tried once, kind of, I think and, I guess it was okay? He didn’t really do it for long? But maybe I just took--”

“Did you come?”

You snorted, unable to help it and Steve grinned. Any chance to one up Chris Maxwell, no matter how long it had been since he’d had to watch you go on dates with him, Steve would take happily. “No, I didn’t get the chance to enjoy myself. It felt weird, and honestly, he was too busy trying to get a condom out at the same time.”

“What an asshole,” Steve groaned and he leaned down to press a kiss to your cheek, your jaw.

“You’ve always thought he was an asshole, Steven.”

“Point still stands,” Steve scoffed and he pulled back, staring down at you with a sudden intensity. He worked his way between your thighs. “You trust me, right?”

You nodded. Of course you trusted Steve. You’d know him longer than you hadn’t. He’d already seen you naked, shit, he’d been inside of you. But there was something so incredibly new about the way he was lying between your legs, your knees by his shoulders as he pressed what was supposed to be a calming kiss to the inside of one. Instead, your heart jumped. It rattled inside of your ribcage, threatening to break the bones there.

“Can I try?”

You were speechless, blinking at the boy as you tried to imagine what it would feel like to have his mouth on a new part of you. His tongue, his lips, kissing over your cunt. You were suddenly burning.

“You don’t have to say yes, if you don’t want to, babe,” Steve murmured, sensing your hesitation. “If you don’t like it, we can stop.” Another kiss, this time a little higher in the inside of your thigh. “But I promise I’ll try to make you feel real good.”

“I know,” you whispered, hands fisting your sheets in anticipation. “I just— you wanna do this, right? Like this isn’t just ‘cause no one’s ever done it to me properly before?” You hated how unsure you sounded and you felt yourself go hot when Steve raised his brows at you.

“You’re kidding, aren’t you?” Steve laughed, not meanly, not at you. He moved closer, kissing a line up the inside of your leg until his shoulders were pressed underneath your thighs and god— his face was so close to the soft cotton of your pyjama shorts. “Babe. Baby, you’ve no idea how much I wanna do this. Just, relax for me, yeah?”

You looked down at Steve as he shuffled between your spread legs, curling his arms around the tops of your thighs so he could pull them apart a little further, making more room for himself. He looked up, his hair falling over his forehead, into his brown eyes. “Ready?”

You nodded, whispering a small, shy, excited ‘yeah,’ before Steve grinned up at you. You let yourself fall back onto the mattress. Eyes on the ceiling, body electric.

You expected your sleep shorts to be rolled down your hips, over your legs and thrown to the floor. But instead, Steve leaned in to kiss over them, the thin cotton not doing much to dull the feel of his mouth over your cunt. You jumped, gasping, head lifting back up and off of the bed to see Steve smile, his pink, full lips pushed into a pout as he kissed over your covered folds. He hummed, nose pushed to you in a way that made the fabric cling to you, damp seeping through already.

“Good?” Steve asked quietly, hiding his smile at your soft noises of agreement. “You like that?”

It was maddening, the soft lilt of his voice, teasing, gentle, earnest all at once. You wanted to cry out when he let his tongue drag over you, sleep shorts getting more and more wet as they stuck to the lines of you, your cunt almost visible through the damp fabric. Steve pushed his thumbs into the crease of your thighs, soothed you back down a little as he kissed your knee. “Your parents are downstairs, babe, you gotta keep quiet, yeah?”

His words made you spin, too dizzy to comprehend that you did actually need to shut the fuck up. But it hadn’t felt like this when Chris had made an attempt, a thirty second appearance between your thighs in the back of his car before he got too impatient and demanded you ride him. So you whined a little desperately and gasped at Steve’s touch, wondering when your boyfriend was going to put you out of your misery and take your shorts off.

But Steve ducked back down to kiss over you again, proper, open mouthed kissed against the folds of your pussy, his tongue sneaking out every now and then to bump against your covered clit and you were wriggling in his hands, head thrown back, vision hazy because you forgot to blink, lips parted in a quiet moan. You felt fingers at the band of your shorts then, warm and sure and you lifted your bum up in anticipation. But instead of being pulled down your legs, Steve tugged up.

Cheeks hot with a strange type of embarrassment, you gasped out, realising that the thin cotton of your tiny shorts were now tucked between your folds, a firm pressure on your clit that had you reeling. You couldn’t fathom what you must’ve looked like, but when you gazed back down at Steve, glassy eyed and panting, Steve was staring at your pussy like a man starved.

His own eyes were heavy lidded, dark and heated, his lips parting at the sight of you. Steve pulled up again, just slightly, groaning low when the fabric slipped further between your folds. He can see the outline of everything, the soaked patch that’s clinging to your entrance, the bump of your clit under pink cotton. He reaches out to trace it with a fingertip, swearing when you jerk forward, wanting more. He pulls you into him, hands grabbing at your thighs so he can push his face back between them and he licks a flat, slow stripe over your cunt.

You can’t help but arch up, biting down on the meat of one of your hands while the other finds Steve’s hair, fingers twining through the strands and pulling, hard. The boy moans at that, something you already knew he liked too much but it sends his own hips rocking into the bed, chasing any friction he can get, letting you know he’s enjoying this as much as you are. And once your underwear is soaked through, you’re fuzzy, feeling drunk and ready to beg for him to take them off but Steve is one step ahead of you, tapping your ass so you’ll plant your feet on the mattress and lift your hips for him.

You do it immediately, muffling a whine as he has to peel your wet underwear from between your folds, dragging them down your legs before settling back between them, kissing over the soft of your stomach as he pushes the hem of your too big shirt up your ribs. “Let me see you, princess, lemme see those pretty tits.”

The breeze from the evening came through the still open window but you were more than sure the goosebumps on your skin came from Steve’s words, his rough, wrecked sounding voice. You obeyed, pulling the fabric of your shirt up until it rested under your chin. “Steve, please, I really need—”

Another kiss, just below your belly button, another, climbing up your ribcage and the boy hushed you. “S’alright, I know, I know.” He swiped two fingers through you, feeling how warm and slick you were for him. “Shit, baby, wanna really feel me, yeah?”

You nodded, a furious movement that made Steve grin. You settled back on your elbows this time, legs open for the boy, eager to watch. “Please, yeah. Fuck, it’s— Steve, please.”

Steve didn’t hesitate, pressing himself down onto the mattress as he spread you with two thumbs, groaning at the way you glistened in the last of the lowlight, your bedroom turning seven shades of blue as evening rolled in. He could hear sprinklers turn on outside, the faint hum of your parents television from downstairs, the way your breathing picked up when he blew over your clit, pink and swollen for him and his touch.

“So pretty, baby,” he praised, his voice nothing more than a whisper. “Don’t tell you that enough, huh?”

You scrunched your face at the praise, cheeks burning, your bare chest rising and falling faster and faster and faster. “You tell me that all the time.”

Steve laughed softly, ducking his head down to kiss you, a chaste peck in the dirtiest of ways, lips sliding over your cunt, still spread for him. You gasped, head falling back for a second, clenching down on nothing and you knew Steve would see, you knew Steve was watching. You heard him exhale roughly.

“Talkin’ about her, princess.” Steve hummed, licked over his lips to chase your taste and dipped down again to drag his tongue oh so fucking slowly from your entrance to your clit. “Yeah? Talkin’ about how pretty this pussy is.”

The compliment made you pull Steve’s hair harder, hips wiggling as you groaned, eyes falling shut when the boy huffed out a soft laugh and pulled you closer, nose bumping against your clit as he pressed his tongue into you, slick, wet noises filling the room and making your breath hitch. Up and down, up and down, up and down, Steve licked you like a popsicle, humming when your hips twitched, pushing his lips around your clit and sucking gently, teasing it with the tip of his tongue before he went back to kissing all you all over.

It was messy, wet, Steve’s lips and chin shining with you, his eyes fluttering shut every time he dragged his tongue through your folds, his hips rocking down into the mattress as he tried to ease the pressure in his jeans. He was harder than he’d ever been.

“Steve,” you whispered, your voice broken and cracking at the pleasure. “Steve, please, I’m so close.”

The boy murmured softly against your skin, a thing you were sure was supposed to soothe you but you just arched against his mouth instead. He pulled back, just slightly, smiling when you cried out, hushing you with wide eyes. “Princess, hey, hey, baby,” he kissed the crease of your thigh, licked the wet there that made your skin shine, growling at the taste. “You gotta stay quiet, yeah? Keep quiet baby and I’ll make you come, I promise.”

You nodded, doe eyed as you stared down your body at him, barely keeping yourself up on your elbows, legs quivering as Steve pushed them further apart. “Lie back for me, yeah? That’s it, good girl. M’gonna make you feel so fuckin’ good, princess, tell me what you need.”

Steve sounded reverent, kissing over your stomach and the small thatch of curls before licking into your folds again, pressing his lips to your clit. “Fingers,” you gasped out, clenching your comforter in each hand. Your knuckles were white. “Please, fingers please.”

Steve didn’t even respond with words, he just sucked his middle and pointer into his mouth and pushed them into you, groaning at how easy they slid in. The feeling of being so suddenly full made your head fall back, huffs of air escaping from your lips and making the ceiling fuzzy, it was glittering. The stars didn’t seem to stay outside anymore.

“Pull your legs up, baby, c’mon, open up for me,” Steve rasped, pushing your legs up with his shoulders until you got the hint and pressed your knees to your chest, letting them fall open even further until you were sure you were going to die from the way you were so exposed for him.

But Steve whined, a needy desperate noise and you felt the mattress dip and lift as he jumped himself into the bed, chasing his own release as he gave you yours. “Oh, good girl, baby, that’s so good. That’s it, yeah? Can get my fingers nice ‘n’ deep, huh?” He proved his point by rubbing the tips of his digits in small circles, pressing into the spot you could never reach.

It made your legs shake, toes curling and you were able to gasp out, “mouth, use your mouth, please,” just as you felt yourself getting pulled into the mattress, a hook in your tummy that was getting warmer and heavier, a buzzing in your ears like white static and Steve’s tongue was almost lazy as it dragged over you clit, soft and slow and languid. You felt every bit of it, cunt fluttering around the base of his fingers, sucking him in until Steve swore into you, lips parting around your pussy in a messy, wet kiss and he sucked hard when your back arched, legs falling, feet hitting the mattress, ass lifting up and into his face. You pushed yourself against his mouth, uninhibited, eyes squeezed shut and your hands fumbling for a pillow, an old stuffed teddy, anything to bite into to stifle your cries.

“Shit, princess, so fuckin’ hot, Christ, that’s it,” Steve groaned, pupils blow wide as he stared up at you. “Touch those tits for me, baby, play w’them, yeah.”

The boy’s hands grabbed at your thighs as you obeyed, fingertips biting into the soft skin, pulling you into him, groaning almost too loud when you moved against his tongue, hips rolling as you came. You felt it everywhere, a slow roll into an orgasm that shattered, sending you reeling, unwound, undone. There was glitter behind your eyelids, stars, a new planet.

You bit down into the corner of your cushion, soft, muffled noises caught between your teeth and you felt something wet slip from one eye, a tear that rolled over your cheek and onto the baby blue pillow case. You twitched, whining as you tried to pull away, overstimulated, easing yourself back onto the bed and trying to catch your breath.

Steve ran his wide hands over your thighs, up and down, up and down, one pressing to the soft of your tummy as he soothed you. “Shh, princess, I know.” He kissed over your clit, cooing when you jerked underneath him. “Sorry, sorry, s’okay, just lemme—” he cut himself off to lick over you, soft, slow drags of his tongue that avoided that overly sensitive bump at the top of your cunt.

You sighed prettily, soft moans as your eyes closed again, sucking in deep breaths as Steve cleaned you up, licking away everything you gave him, kissing sweetly over your folds before easing your legs from his shoulders. You lay spent, eyes closed and cheeks warm as the boy crawled his way back over you, dotting kisses over your ribs, the curve of your breast, grinning as you whined when he grazed his teeth over a nipple. You clung to Steve as he burrowed into you, nosing at your neck and humming, letting you grab at his hair and drag his mouth to yours.

This kiss was as languid and hot as it was when he kissed you elsewhere, his tongue licking over yours, the taste of yourself making you whine. You could feel Steve smiling, lips still pressed to yours, his nose against your cheek. He leaned back, just slightly, one hand pushing your hair from your damp forehead, grinning wide at the sight of your glassy eyes.

“You okay?” He asked softly, unable to keep the laughter out of his voice.

You mumbled something Steve couldn't make out and clung a little tighter, pulling the boy down until he was pressed against your chest and you could hide your face in his neck.

“That good?” Steve tried to tease but he couldn’t help but sound sincere, you were still trembling, doing your best to burrow into him.

“Insane,” you said into the cotton of his shirt, lips pressed to his shoulder. “Stupid good, yeah. Fuck.” You were whimpering a little, voice soft and half asleep sounding and it made Steve beam. You wriggled against him, the breeze from the window seeming cooler now that Steve wasn’t working you up and your thigh brushed against a damp patch against his crotch. “Did you come?”

There was no judgement behind your answer, just quiet awe. You smiled when Steve scoffed, nodding as he leaned in to peck at your lips again. “Uh, ‘course I did. How could I not? You were grinding all over me like some kinda wet dream, princess shit—”

“Steve,” you whined, a little embarrassed as the high wore off, cheeks too hot when Steve laughed. You crawled over him, thighs straddling his lap. Your shirt - Steve’s shirt - fell back down, pooling your waist and covering you back up. Steve pouted, hands diving underneath anyway, fingers spanning over your thighs. You raised a brow. “You still hungry?”

Steve smirked, squeezing at your legs, revelling in the warmth he could still feel from between them. “Oh, she’s got jokes now, huh?”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fandom #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington one shot

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last-words-ofashootingstar · 7 months

Text

Cornflower Blue

SPOOKTOBER SPECIAL

❥Yandere Outlaw Song Mingi x fem reader

➯a/n: this is my darkest fic yet imo, be sure to read the contents and take care of yourself! also im super proud of this, it took like three months tbh and i still didn't get to fit in everything i wanted to. enjoy some yandere minki 💙

✃The moonlight seeps in through the sheer curtains and paints your skin in a haze of blue. The bruise on your temple like a water color bloom.

♫ "You love me 'till you wear me out, then you love me more." -Cornflower Blue, Flower Face ♫"Love's never been more than pain, so Baby, show me how bad you hurt." -Dog Days, Ethel Cain ♫"My Babe would never fret about what my hands and my body done- if The Lord don't forgive me, I'd still have my Baby." -Work Song, Hozier ♫"I just wanted to be yours. Can I be yours? Just tell me I'm yours." - Strangers, Ethel Cain ♫

✫彡wordcount: 14k

♡'･ᴗ･'♡(ಡ‸ಡ) (>ᴗ•) genre: plot heavy smut, yandere, angst

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: GOOD LORD WHAT HAVE I DONE ??? wild west au, HEAVY yandere themes, murder, reader near death experience, mingi is CRAZY, bribery, manipulation, threatening, gun violence/shoot-out, injuries, invasion of privacy, 'off-screen' death of main characters, kidnapping, NSFW; multiple sex scenes, masterbation, unprotected(BOO), first time, head(reader receiving), size difference, spit, breeding kink, overstim, biiiiiig dick mingi (i'm a sucker😞), praise, dirty talk, soft sex turned rough, extreme possessiveness

not edited, definitely grammatical errors 🥲

⁂taglist: @stvrfir3 @tunaasan @marievllr-abg @nini4m @senpai-of-doom

MATURE UNDER CUT MDNI

"Ellis~" Your sing song tone echoes out through the alleyway, crates of stored food blocking your view. "Oh, my! Is that a corn snake?" You yelled out dramatically, crouching down behind a crate.

"Where?!" The young boys voice gets closer by the second until he runs up to you and you snatch him up.

"Wraa! I got you!" He laughs loudly, an heart-full sound that rings out in the dead town. Everyone has gone besides very few to a new market up North. "I've caught you, and I'll eat you up!" You pull him up as he yells and laughs and swing him around as you twirl to the main road. "I'll have ye for supper," you laugh with your best witch-like voice.

"No, I'm not tasty!"

"No? Well... I guess I shouldn't do this then!" You playfully nom at his sweatered shoulder, tickling his ribs.

"Auntie, please, I'll do it! I'll sweep!"

You stand up like nothing ever happened and smile, "great, Miss Carmen will be most pleased." You had recruited multiple of the youngsters left behind to help you maintain the vacant homes while the market took place, and some off them were less than happy to have been roped in. "Would you like me to carry you?"

"Ye' , please!" His smile is missing a tooth, and it makes you chuckle.

You place him over your hip and begin the short walk, planning out the rest of the days chores in your head when he screams, "horsie!"

You follow the path his chubby fingers points to, and find a large figure riding in past the town sign on a similarly large white horse. His face is obscured by his large droopy hat, but that isn't what makes you suspicious at first.

The man riding into town has multiple guns on his figure.

You scramble to the side of the dirt path and hold Ellis' head to your shoulder, looking up at the stranger as he slows his horse to come to a stop right infront of you.

"Hello, Si-"

"Auntie, I'm scared." Despite your best efforts, the young boy had caught a glimpse of the towering and dangerous-looking man, shivering in your hold.

You crouch down and set him down carefully, rubbing his back for a moment before you turn him in the direction you want him to go, "run off to the schoolhouse, tell Maria to come and cook up our guest a meal. You can do that, right?"

He rubs his eyes and peeks at the man before looking back to you, nodding eagerly. "Go on and get, then." You pat his shoulder and watch him run before turning to the man.

"Room and board, Sir?" You speak formally to the hidden man.

"Yes." He speaks simply, swinging his leg and jumping down from the horse.

He's no less intimidating now that he's technically level with you. He looms over you like a shadow and places a chill in your bones. "Is this place a ghost town?" He has an accent that you can't place, but you lock onto it anyhow because it's quite clear he isn't from around here. You look away from him, trying to hide your nerves at the fact that he's the first real stranger you've ever met.

"No, Sir. Most are away to sell our spring crops." He hums shortly in response, watching you closely from under the shadow his hat casts over his eyes as you grab his horses reigns. You can feel the way his eyes bore into your every move as you begin waking, "follow me, then."

It's a silent and most awkward walk down the deserted main street, and you can still feel his gaze burning into your back as you lead his horse into the stables.

"So, where are you from, stranger?"

"Away." Your feeble attempt at small talk is shut down by the man immediately as he stands in the large doorway, broad shoulders nearly touching its sides.

"Very well," you step back out of the horse's temporary home, and are put in the shadow his large frame casts. "Uhm, my name is (Y/n)," you extend your hand, trying to remember your manners despite the fear in your gut.

He takes your hand, roughly. You can't tell if he means to- or if he's just that strong. "Mingi."

His hand is cold. It shocks you. You pull away from his grip and push past him, head lowered. You've quickly found that you don't enjoy strangers. "Miss Maria can help you get settled, show you around if you like. Nothin' much to do 'round here besides drink or play ball." You ramble on as you head to the bar, just down the road. You don't have to look behind you to know he's following. You can feel his gaze locked in on your back, that same feeling you get when men at the bar have one too many or that time when a wild boar almost got you.

The bar isn't anything special, though nothing in the town is really. He looks around, silently. A few wooden booths and rickety tables. A pool table. A small island that separates the main floor and the bartenders area. Beyond that, he can see a kitchen. He almost thought his luck had run out when he rode into the seemingly deserted town, and then he saw you twirling the young boy into the main road.

He nods his head, maybe subconsciously, to say he's pleased enough to stay. "Up this way," your voice echoes in the empty space, and you touch his arm ever so lightly to get his attention. The staircase is hidden by the corner, and he has to crouch to ascend them. When he does, he's pleasantly surprised.

The room has a homey, lived in feel to it. Well, most of it. It's a large space, walls decorated with dried flowers and boxed in dead insects, chalk drawings of all kinds of things on the dark oak walls. There's a slanted shelf that's adorned with carved wooden trinkets and toys, most of which have a small layer of dust if he looks hard enough. A large open window is on the back wall, facing the town, and a dresser that fits perfectly under it. The bed on the left side of the dresser is messy, a large fur blanket that's bundled up to expose pristine white sheets.

The part that doesn't look as lived in is on the right side of the dresser. An fresh lantern candle placed neatly on the made bed, dark red sheets and grey comforter.

"I hope you don't mind a roommate... I'm not here for the most part, I won't be in your hair." You're shuffling around quickly, hiding a few things that he didn't get to inspect into the left side of the dresser. "You can," you gulp, clearly uncomfortable with the silent man, "you can put your things away in these drawers if you like."

He stands, like a scarecrow, holding his rucksack tightly. When he moves, you flinch, sliding closer to what he now placed together is your bed. He chooses to ignore that, sitting down on the other bed and feeling the soft fabric. "You own this place?"

You're taken aback by his unprovoked speaking, gathering you thoughts as you sit across from him on your own bed. "Uh, no. A man named Louis owns this and the bar."

"Hm. And you?"

"I work down in the bar, bartending and such. So he lets me stay."

A small smirk plays at his lips, hidden by his hat as he looks around again. You've clearly lived here a long while. There's more to your story than just working downstairs. "Kind of him."

"Very. You may be able to thank him for his hospitality, he gets back in a few days." You pause for a moment before you ask tentatively, "how long will you be staying?"

He stands and turns his back to you as he takes off his hat, beginning to unpack his bag. "Few weeks maybe."

"Ah," you draw quietly, anxiety growing in your gut. The very few visitors you could remember stayed for only days, if that. Even then, they weren't total strangers. They were people that others in town knew from the market or city.

"Hope you don't mind a roommate," he turns back around and tosses a look your way as he starts to fold his clothing into the unoccupied drawers. And if the air wasn't gone from your lungs by now, it is now. This stranger, Mingi, is the most handsome being you've ever laid your eyes upon.

His eyebrows are softly arched, beautifully curved nose and lips. And his eyes- oh, his eyes. You swear you could get lost in them. And it seems you do, staring at the man despite the fact your intuition is telling you to look away. "Handsome, I know."

A heat flushes your face and you force yourself to look away as he smirks your way, "w-well, you know, uh- let me go and fetch Miss Maria, you must be famished!"

With that, you're down the stairs and out the bar. He watches as you speed walk away through the window, blissfully unaware that he's opened up your drawers to have a deeper look into his roommate.

༄

You dodged the handsome stranger until you no longer could, the sun was setting and there were no more excuses to be found to avoid going back home. He wasn't in the room when you returned, but the bathroom door was closed and you could see the flickering of a candle from the cracks.

You lit a few candles on the dresser before the sun fully set, taking some deep breaths as you heard him moving around. You remove your boots, a groan of relief settling behind your lips as you wiggle your toes.

As you're unfolding your night gown, the door to the bathroom creaks open. "Hello, Miss," he greets, much warmer than his earlier aura.

"Mingi," you greet back with a small smile, "have you found your way around well?" You shift your weight uncomfortably as he tilts his head at you, as if he's trying to read you.

"Mhm, this ghost town isn't as bad as I thought," he sits down on his bed, rolling his head with a groan.

"Very good, maybe when the other return you'll find it even better." You can't wait for the day. His presence makes you... uneasy, is the best way to put it. You know he could easily over power you and the others. Elderly, young, and women who don't have a single idea of self defense. Maybe that was stupid on your towns part- but you needed all of the hands on deck to sell the bountiful harvest.

You excuse yourself and lock the bathroom door behind you, double checking before you begin to remove your day clothes. As you change, you start to wonder if maybe Mingi was just uncomfortable around strangers as well. He's seemed to have warmed up quite a bit to you. You'll have to ask Maria in the morning about their encounter.

Perhaps he won't be as bad as you expected- "Oh, dear me!" You stumble as you re-enter the room, covering your eyes with your hands. "Uhm, Mingi?"

"I'm just cleaning my wound," he chuckles, watching you with a glint in his eyes.

You peek through your fingers, keeping your hands to your face to hide.

Indeed, he's shirtless. Your eyes hadn't played a trick on you.

You swallow the gathering wetness in your mouth as you peer at his naked torso. He's slim, toned in all the right places. His arms are something of a dream to you, and you have to force yourself to look away from them as sinful thoughts begin growing in your mind.

Instead, you take a look at the wound he referred to. A shallow gash going from his hip around and around to his back. The edges of it are already scarring, leaving only the middle of it as a wound.

You slowly approach the end of his bed, hands resting on the metal bed frame. "May I ask?"

"Every man his enemies. Mine happen to be good with throwing knives."

"Is that why you carry all those weapons?" The question has been nagging you. He has so many. And you don't like them. You don't like that they are in your home. He's left them on his side of the dresser.

"Perhaps." He groans as he tries to reach around and clean the part of the cut that stretches onto his back. "Would... would you be so kind, (Y/n)?"

It's your turn to be the silent type. You move to sit beside him, taking the damp rag and jar of salve with shaking hands. You haven't been this close to him until now. You haven't been this close to any man, really.

He smells shockingly good.

He shivers as you begin cleaning up his wound, and you apologize under your breath.

Unbeknownst to you, that was not a shiver of pain.

He's always been the nosy type. He couldn't help himself but try to get to know you through your belongings while you were gone. And he struck a pot of gold when he found your diary.

The entries dated back seven years. And he read through all seven of them. With every word, he became more and more infatuated with you. And your touch on his body solidified that infatuation. It felt right. Your innocent, helping touch turned his infatuation into something more sinister.

So, no. It was not a shiver of pain.

"There you go," you can't help but stroke the large expanse of his back once you've finished, it's a work of art. Thankfully, he doesn't seem to notice.

But, oh, does he. He has to bite his lip to hold back a moan, looking down at his lap. His member twitching to life from the smallest, most pure of your touches. "Thank you kindly." He forces out, breathily.

You're in your own bed much to quickly for his liking, hiding under your blanket. "Goodnight, Mingi. I shall see you in the morning."

༄

"Hello, stranger," you smile at him as steps out of the building, earning one back. "Slept well, I hope?"

"Very, thank you." He takes a seat on the steps of the bar next to you and watches the sun grow higher in the sky. "May I ask you a personal question, (Y/n)?"

"I suppose so," you shift slightly, toying with the strings on your boots. While your knees are pulled up to the step just below your bottom, his feet stretch all the way off of the steps and onto the dirt.

"Where is your family?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Well... it's just, you're a beautiful young woman. Don't you have a husband and a couple of rug-rats?"

"Rug-rats," you repeated with a chuckle, shaking your head. "No, no rug-rats."

"And a husband?"

"The closest I have to a husband is Castle... my mutt." You look to him with a bigger smile, your nerves and anxiety around him unwinding. When he laughs, you feel a flutter in your stomach that makes them disappear completely.

You turn back to the sun as it rises, trying to convince yourself that the heat you feel on your cheeks is from the warmness of it. "Why do you ask?"

He hums, leaning back on his elbows and allowing his eyes to flick up and down as they observe you. "Wanted to know my chances."

"Oh!" You look back at him, his eyes shining with that glint once more, "the cow boy is a flirt? I see."

"I'm not a cowboy."

"No?" You lean back and join him, crossing your legs. Maria had told you just earlier that he was strange, that she sensed a darkness about him. But you only felt warmth and light. "What are you then, Mingi?"

"An outlaw." The smirk on his lips makes you think he's joking, and you let out a laugh.

If only you knew that Mingi was being truthful.

༄

The wagons roll into town the next morning, bright and early. You're still asleep when the first one comes, but the happy hollering from Maria wakes you and Mingi both with a start.

He's dazed and confused, rolling around and glaring at at ceiling above him. While you, well you nearly jump out of your skin to run downstairs.

Still in your nightgown and soft socks, you almost slip and fall as you jump off of the last stair and slide into the main area. "Lou!" You collide into him and sway happily as the older man lifts you up in his arms.

"There's my girl! You been holdin' us down?" He sets you down carefully and inspects you, making sure you've been kept safe in his time away.

"You know I have," you give him a wide and toothy smile, "how was the new market?"

"Oh, it was wonderful, dear! Next time I should take you both with me, so many new things," he reaches into his satchel, handing his wife something small and shiney.

Mingi, in his own sleep clothes- a loose pair of pants, slowly descends the stairs, silent as a mouse as he watches the three of you.

Miss Maria, the older woman with a scarf permanently affixed to her head, looks down at the ring with a teary smile. "Oh, Louis, you shouldn't have." You lift yourself up and sit on one of the tables, watching the two kiss with a small smile.

"Why shouldn't I? A man is meant to spoil his wife, isn't that what I always say? Besides, we made quite the profit this time around." His wrinkled hand cups her cheek, and you can't help but coo at their affection.

"Y'all are too stinkin' cute." Maria looks away bashfully, admiring the ring on her hand. While Louis turns to you with a smile, which fades as quickly as it came.

"And who is this?" His hand is on his belt, twitching at his pistol as he spots Mingi coming up behind you. You turn, and then back, moving his hand away from his weapon.

"That's Mingi, he got here a few days ago. A traveler." You don't know if that last part is necessarily true. Mingi never did tell you why he was passing by your isolated town. "He's quite alright."

"He's half naked- and so are you! Young lady-"

"Lou!" Maria is flabbergasted by what he seems to be implying, while you don't seem to see the innuendo. Of course you are? You just awoke.

Mingi stays silent, and simply extends his hand to Louis. When he doesn't take it, he puts it back to his side, joining you at the table. It seems to you that Mingi is indeed weary of strangers. He seems only comfortable with you. Yesterday, he followed you around almost like a lost dog. Insisting that he wanted to help you with your daily chores.

His eyes flick down to your chest. Sure, he's seen you in your nightgown. But that was in the moon or candle light. The sunlight from the many bar windows exposes just how sheer it is. He can see your nipples if he looks hard enough. And, oh, he's looking.

And Louis notices, ears flushing red with anger as the strange traveler looks you up and down. "Alright, dear, go get dressed."

"Oh, but I wish to hear of the market! Unc-"

"Now, (Y/n)."

With a sigh, you slide off of the table, patting Mingis exposed shoulder as you pass him. He goes to follow you back upstairs when Louis grips his wrist. Hard.

Maria is fiddling with her new ring, almost cowering behind her husband as she feels Mingis aura once again. She can't seem to pinpoint why. But she doesn't like this man one bit. He's done nothing to her, to anyone for that matter. But she feels an evilness seep from his gaze.

"Have a seat, Mingi." Louis doesn't seem to like him either. Maybe because of his silent demeanor or the way he was ogling you.

He does so, with a bored expression, plopping down on one of the wooden booths. Louis slides into the booth seat across from him, waving Maria off. She doesn't need to be told twice. She doesn't want to be near that man for one second more than necessary.

Alone in the seating area, the two men stare silently at one another. As if sizing each other up.

Louis is the first one to break, reaching into his pocket. A rusted old locket is slid across the scratched table top, and Mingi catches it before it falls into his lap.

As he opens it up, he sees a picture of two people in either of the slots. One, a woman with a wide smile. The other, a man looking down at the baby held to his chest. Their features seem... familiar.

"Her parents."

He looks up slowly, and sees the older man leaning back, "I'm sorry?"

"Those are her parents. My little sister and her husband. Died seven years ago. Train crash. Hit a cow on the tracks. Hate those damned things. They can't slow down quick enough to avoid hittin' something."

It's silent again, save for the sounds of Maria cooking up a storm in the back of the kitchen.

He looks down at the pictures again. Seven years ago... that's when your diary entries start. But you never mentioned the crash. Did you just decide to forget about it? Move on?

Louis can almost see the cogs turning in his brain as he looks at the worn photo. Before Mingi can ask, Louis is answering. "I seen the way you looked at my little girl. The same way I look at my Maria. So Imma tell you," he points to the locket, "I made a promise the day that train crashed. You know what that promise was?"

"No."

"That I'd gut anyone who ever laid an evil finger on that girl."

"Maria!" They hear you coming back down, and Louis snatches up the locket from Mingis hands as he stands. You stop briefly and look at them, but move on when you see Louis smiling down at him. "Have you seen my vest?" Your voice grows distant as you join your Aunt in the kitchen, unaware that the smile was followed by a threat.

"Don't make me gut you, boy."

༄

"You're so soft," you mutter as you brush the white mare with your fingers, stood just outside of her stable. She neighs loudly at you. "Oh, I know. So many strange horses, you must be frightened."

The once empty stable house was now filled again, everyone was back in town by high-noon. She seems like her owner, and like you. She doesn't like strangers. She nearly kicked the short door down when you approached with a handful of hay.

A few minutes later, she's letting you pet her. You're stood on a stool, bent over the edge of the door to dust the dirt off of her white coat. "You're a sweet girl, huh?" You smile at the animal, receiving more neighs in response.

"Who you talking to?"

The abrupt interruption makes you stumble, nearly falling off of the wobbly stool. You steady yourself on the door and look back, throwing a smile his way when you see it's Mingi. "Your horse."

He joins your side at the door, holding his hand out to his mare. "You know she can't talk back, right?"

"Don't mean she can't listen."

He smiles at your response. You really are a kind soul, giving affection to an animal that can't give you anything in return.

"Busy, Miss (Y/n)?"

You shake your head. Nobody has come by the bar yet, and you don't think anyone will for a while. They're all spending time with their families.

"How about a ride, then?" He's opening up the door before you can respond, making your upper body follow it, legs outstretched to stay on the stool.

"Oh- I don't... I don't know how."

He keeps putting the saddle on the horse despite your words, a smile playing at his lips. By the way your smiling as well, he knows you want to. "I can teach you. Are you afraid?"

"I must admit... a bit."

"Don't worry, I won't let you fall."

"Really?"

"Mhm."

You hop down from the stool and move it out of the way as Mingi walks the mare out of her stable, following close behind him with a wide smile. You get a few strange looks from townspeople as you and the towering stranger stop in the middle of the main dirt road.

One pair of eyes watches you even closer. Louis stands from his rocking chair on the porch of the bar, staring dumbfounded as Mingi picks you up and helps you onto the animal. Jaw dropped as he hops up and sits in the saddle right behind you, hands guiding yours to hold the reigns. Before he can even get off of the porch, the both of you are galloping out of town.

The cool October air against your face as you slowly gain speed feels freeing, like it's washing your very soul. Your nerves are still shaking a bit, and you lean your back into Mingis chest, holding onto the reigns tightly. You jump ever so slightly when one of his hands rests over your stomach, gently holding you.

"Don't worry," he says, "I've been riding since I was a child."

And so, you don't worry. You let the freeing feeling wash over you, relaxing into him and letting the mare take you where ever she pleases. Which just so happens to be the furthest you can ever remember being from town. You nearly forget that Mingi is even with you until you feel his hand move away from your stomach.

He grabs the reigns, his hand over yours as he pull her head back carefully, slowing her to a stop in the middle of a field. He pulls your hands back with his and settles them in your lap, atop of your bundled up skirts.

She lowers her head and starts chewing on some of the green grass. You look up at the sky, clear and bright.

"Not so scary, right?" Mingi speaks up gently, his hands never leaving your own as he looks up at the baby blue with you.

"Not at all, though maybe it's because you did all of the work," you let out a small laugh, turning your hands palms up and letting him weave his fingers into yours, enveloping you in warmth. "Is this what your life is like?"

The endless expanse of nature staring back at you, birds chirping their lovely songs.

"For the most part." He doesn't want to tell you about the other parts of his life. The bloody and harsh parts. You don't need to hear about that. Not when you're so pure and soft in comparison.

"I like it. I can see why you don't settle, cowboy."

"I'm not a cowboy."

A grin on both your faces, a comfortable silence overcomes you for a moment. He leans and slowly, almost nervously, rests his forehead on your shoulder. When you don't make a move to lean away, he absolutely melts into you. His heart beating loudly in his ears, he's shocked you haven't looked back to look for a marching band with how loud it is.

"I think I may stay a little while longer," he whispers tenderly into your back.

"I think I may like that."

You revel in each others touch for a few more moments before he moves, scooting back away from your backside. "Let's stretch our legs." Before you can complain, he's jumped off the horse and is holding out his arms for you. Deciding 'why not', you lean over and let him essentially pull you off her back.

You stretch your arms over your head as you wander, smiling back at him.

Oh, he could get addicted to that smile.

Directed at him, and him alone.

He watches with a flicker in his eyes as you start gathering wild flowers, folding up the rim of his hat to get a better look. You start braiding them together, fingers working nimbly. The song of nature overcoming you as you work, and he admires from a few feet away.

You look like an angel, the sun beaming down on you and shining from behind you like a halo as you turn and face him. "Crouch down, big boy," you tease him softly, a heat creeping up your face as you see him blushing.

He leans down, letting you affix the flowers around his hat. When he comes back up, he does a small twirl, "how do I look?"

"Pretty!" It slips your lips before you have the chance to think, and it makes him blush all the harder.

"Let me see," he takes his hat off, short hair wild and blowing with the breeze.

He pulls the hat over your head in the next second, and the large accessory falls over your eyes. He laughs, hand over his mouth as you tilt your head up and peek at him from under the rim. "How do I look?"

"Like a doll," he exclaims breathlessly, eyes not leaving you for a single second as he takes in the sight of you in his hat. The wind blowing your loose hairs and skirts. A shy smile stretching your lips as you look away, admiring the sky as he admires you.

"Oh, hush."

"It's only true." He comes behind you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders loosely.

You have to remember how to breath as he looks over your shoulder at you, shit-eating-smirk on his lips. "Doll~"

"We should head back!" You squeal, ducking out of his arms as heat overwhelms your body. He only laughs, and the melodic sound echoes in the field.

"Alright then, up you get," he hoists you back onto the saddle, hands lingering on your exposed thighs as your skirt pools around your hips while he hooks his boot into the stirrup.

And you're off again, this time slowly. Like he knows that you crave to spend time with him as much as he does you.

༄

It's a few days later when he awakes in the night. The moon his only source of light. His breaths uneven and heavy.

Why did he have to wake up? That dream was ethereal, it nearly made him ascend to the heavens.

He groans as he flips onto his stomach, not a atom of shock in his being as he feels his hardness pressing into the mattress. Not after he just experienced the wettest dream of his life.

You looked like a Goddess below him, head tossed to the side and exposing all of the marks he left on your neck. The bed rocked in time with the yells of his names that left your bruised lips. Over and over. Louder and louder. Your eyes rolled back, your chest rising and falling as you tried desperately to keep up with his pace.

He's certain that's your rightful place, taking his cock and calling his name, soul intertwined with his. "Fuck..." Just six days and you have him wrapped around your little finger. He's never felt like this. You must be the one.

He can't help but look over at your bed across the room as his hand travels into his pants. His eyes nearly flutter shut, but he forces them open once again.

You're a restless sleeper, he's discovered. Your torso is pressed into the mattress while your hips are rotated slightly up, one leg hiked up and making your nightgown slip past the round of your ass.

God, your subconscious must know what he's doing.

That's the only 'reasonable' conclusion Mingis lustful mind can come to as you moan in your sleep, rolling onto your back and spread your legs to get comfortable. It takes every fiber of self control in him not to pounce on you and take you right there.

He's content to fuck himself silly for the moment, and he's almost ashamed at how fast his release comes- but he can't help it. You look so fucking delectable and he hasn't touched himself since before he rolled into town.

He bites into his pillow with a growl, eyes never leaving your peaceful form until he's overstimulated himself into oblivion. His arm sore and cock even sorer, he finally lets up, breathing heavily into the quiet night.

As he slinks to the bathroom and cleans himself up, he wonders what it would be like to feel your body close to him after such a release. Well-

Why not find out?

He leans over your bed with tears in his eyes, gently grabbing your arm and calling out to you.

"Min?" The nickname that you utter while half asleep almost has him ready to go again, but he pushes it away as you sit up groggily and look at him with concern written on your face.

"I don't feel too well, Doll... Can I sleep with you? Keep me warm?"

You feel his head with the back of your hand, a frown on your face as you feel his heated flesh- unknowing of the true cause.

"Mh, come on, big boy," you scoot to the wall that your beds on and lift your fur blanket, a sleepy smile on your features as he dives into the bed. The metal frame creaks under both of your weight but neither of you pay it any mind.

He melts into your body heat, wrapping his arms around your waist and keeping you close.

It's so much better than he imagined.

༄

That's the best sleep you've ever had. You felt so safe and warm. And Mingi doesn't feel any different, he hasn't had a restful sleep like that since he was only a boy. You seem to have kept his reoccurring nightmares of his past away.

All the damage he's done and all the pain he's endured, wiped away as you rested your head on his shoulder.

Your legs are tangled together, arms wrapped around one another. Your head in his neck and his chin resting gently on top of it. Soft, gentle breaths as the both of you wake.

Rain beats down on the roof, creating a soft and steady melody.

Neither of you can tell how much time has elapsed, but it doesn't seem like it's ever enough. So when you finally sit up, a pout forms on his features.

You feel his forehead, a smile on yours. "No fever."

"Hm, maybe a night bug." He sits up and swings his legs over the bed, facing into the room to hide his growing blush as the memories of his dream flood his mind.

He feels the bed shift under your weight as you crawl up behind him. "I had a dream last night," you whisper as you gently rub up his back.

"Mh?"

"Mhm." Your heart flutters as you muster up the courage to continue speaking, "a dream of you and I."

"Oh, do tell."

And tell, you do.

"Well... it began with you and I, sat in the bar. A few too many drinks in our bodies. A few kisses... A few touches... and then we came up here." His breath hitches in his throat, surely he's still dreaming. This is an elaborate trick of the brain. "Mingi?"

"Y-yes?" He wants to both explode with joy and collapse with embarrassment.

"Will you touch me? Will you kiss me? I'm sorry if that's wildly inappropriate- oh it is, I'm so ter-"

Your rambling is cut off as his lips collide with yours ever so softly. One of his hands cups your cheek, the other finds purchase on the small of your back.

He slowly pushes his weight onto you, laying you down on your back as your lips meld together. A curse falls past his lips as you ghost your fingertips over his abs.

He kisses down your jaw, savoring every inch of your skin until he reaches your covered breasts. He looks up, and the look in his eyes makes the heat in your belly grow ten-fold. "Can I see you?"

With the slightest nod of your head, he's slipped the straps of your nightgown down and tugged it down past your chest. His mind is racing. His heart is about to beat out of his chest. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." He whispers, voice rough and barely heard over the storm raging outside.

His calloused hands trail down your chest, ghosting over the pebbled flesh on your breast and down to your skirt. You can't help the gasp that escapes you when he lifts it up, letting your entire nightdress rest in a bunch on your stomach. He's already panting, and he hasn't even touched you.

You're just so beautiful. You're a Goddess in his eyes.

He smiles up at you as he lowers himself, your legs spread by his wide shoulders. "I'm going to make you cum your brains out, Doll~"

Before you can even question what he means, his tongue is darting out and swiping up the length of your cunt. "Ah!" Your back is arched off the bed at the simple motion, and it solidifies his theory that you're a virgin. Your keening at the littlest bit of attention, your poor neglected pussy is begging for more.

You slap your hand over your mouth at the noise, looking shocked that it even came from you. He can't help the chuckle that vibrates in his throat- that is, before his taste buds register the most delicious, mind blowing juice he's ever had the pleasure of putting in his mouth. "Oh, fuck..." Then he's just as flustered as you are, diving back in between your thighs like a man starved.

The little noises that manage to slip past your hand urge him on even more than the way that your wetness just keeps coming and coming and coming as he slurps it all up. His tongue darts and licks and rolls all over you, and you can't even register all of the pleasure you're getting from it- it feels that good.

He slips his arms under your thighs and grips them tightly to ground himself as he allows himself to drown in you. He lets his instincts do all of the work, enjoying himself more than he ever has. His nose nudges against your clit as he slurps noisily.

The way you taste. The way you smell. The way you sound. The way you feel.

All of it. All of you. He's going mad with lust. With love. He's going to explode, he truly believes it. And then you call his name.

"Mingi—"

So sweet and desperate, absolute music to his red hot ears as he sucks the bundle of nerves above your sopping wet heat. He doesn't even register that you've cum all over his chin until youre tugging at his hair roughly and forcing him away from your throbbing pussy.

He moans out loud as you harshly pull him away, jaw dropped as he pants. "You taste so good, Doll," he slurs drunkenly. Your essence has gotten him drunker than any alcohol ever could.

You're panting even heavier, chest rising and falling quickly as you tremble in the aftershocks of your first orgasm that's come from another person.

He rubs his finger tips over your thighs gently, luring you back down to Earth as he gawks at you. You swear that there's hearts in his shining eyes.

"W-" your attempt at words comes out as jumbled whine, and you let yourself fall back into the pillow.

"It's okay, Baby," he coos, licking his lips as he sits up, folding his legs under him and pulling your limp hips into his lap.

The new nickname makes your cunt twitch, and he catches it. "Oh, you like that, hm?" His index and middle finger spread you wide, and he purses his lips- spitting directly onto your sensitive hole. "C'mon, talk to me, pretty Baby."

"G-god!" You cry out embarrassedly, forever thankful for the angry storm outside that hides your sounds from any neighbors. "Yes, I do, I really do," you draw out, grabbing the sides of his thighs as he teases your entrance. You're still hyper sensitive, twitching with every small movement he makes.

And he absolutely revels in it.

"Yeah? I bet no one ever made you feel that good before," he smirks, letting another wad of spit hit your hole.

"Nuh-uh," you shake your head, peering up at him, and your next words make it hard for him to keep his composure. "Stay. Stay here and- and fuck me."

Little do you know, after that first night- he lost any plans he had of ever leaving.

"I will never leave you," and he means it. He has no plans of ever letting you go. And he's about to let you know that.

He slides you back off his lap and lays over you, holding your head with one hand as the other guides his leaking tip into you. "Oh, ngh," you whine, holding onto his biceps tightly. He bites his lips as he feels your walls for the first time. So warm and tight around him. So soft. "M-min, be gentle," you whimper, leaning up and hiding in his chest.

"Don't worry, Doll, we'll go slow" he strokes your head gently, slowly -oh, so slowly- sinking into your tight core. "Such a pretty little thing, so fuckin' tight f'me," he growls, and again as the noise makes you clench around him. "Gonna have to stretch your little pussy out before I can even move, you've got me in a fucking vice, Baby."

"Mingi, d-don't talk like that, it's dirty," you pant into his chest, the warm air making goosebumps form.

"Well, look at you," he nearly purrs, pulling your head back from his chest gently, "look." You blink a few times, taking in the sinful scene.

Your legs spread around his slowly moving hips. His thick monster of a cock gradually disappearing into your stretched folds.

"Can't not be dirty while we're breaking in this cute little cunt," he says matter-of-factly, looking down at said cunt while it clenches around the half of his cock that's he's managed to sink in. A lewd moan leaves his parted lips, looking back to you as you whimper and fidget. "Hey, hey," he coos, cupping your face in his palms. "Half way there, Doll. How's it feel?"

"Like you're gonna split me in half," you ramble out, looking up at him with the softest eyes he's ever seen. "Please, c-can we take a break? You're jus' so big..."

"Of course, sweet girl," he leans down, careful to keep his hips locked despite how badly he just want to slam into your welcoming heat, and kisses you. Stroking your cheek bones with his thumbs. "You feel so good, like heaven."

The praise makes your rapidly beating heart skip a beat. "Mingi?"

"Yes," he moans in response, looking deep into your eyes.

"I think I'm falling in love with you." The sudden confession makes his cock twitch, his heart jumping into his throat. "Is that silly?"

He takes a moment to gather his thoughts, which are admittedly a chaotic mess.

"If it is, we would be silly together."

"You mean-"

"Yes."

You grip his shoulders and lean up, pressing your lips to his in an act of pure desire. The both of you get lost in each other, tongues darting out and lapping at one another like a lifeline.

Sufficiently covered in each others spit, you pull back. "Keep going, I want to take all of you." You have a newfound confidence after your short trade of admissions, demanding that he go on and fuck you.

A few more moments of excruciating stretching pass when you suddenly feel his pelvis flush with your clit, both of you panting like wild animals as you feel each other completely.

"Holy shit, Baby," he sneers, resting his face in the crook of your neck, taking in deep breaths of your scent to keep himself from jack hammering into you. You are truly the best thing to ever happen to him, and your cunt molding into the shape of him is just a bonus.

There are no words that you can find in your brain. All if it is wiped away as you feel his rock hard cock stretching you out, filling you wall to wall. When he breaths out, a content sigh into your neck, you feel the veins on his length pressing into your gummy walls. "Hah~" Is all you can manage, thoughts turned into mush as he begins to slowly pull back out- just an fraction of an inch. Before sliding back in quickly. "Fuck!"

"Doll, please, please," he whimpers, holding onto your waist tightly as he rolls his hips, "please say you're ready, I don't know how long I can take it."

"Y-" the second the first syllable is utter from your lips, he's already pulled out half way, "yes!" He thrust back in, steady and slow at first.

Words are lost between you - minds absolutely flooding with hormones as he begins thrusting harder, faster. Moans, groans, loud whimpers. The slapping of your skin is so loud that even the rain pounding at the window can't drown it out.

He's stuffing you beyond your wildest imagination. His cock was made to stretch you so deliciously, and your pussy was made to take it.

It's his dream coming to life, quite literally, as your eyes roll back to the depths of your head and you're squeezing him tighter than before. It's almost impossible for him to keep thrusting, but he finds a way.

He grips your hips tight and is making you bounce on his cock effortlessly, all the while pounding his hips into yours. He's so deep inside of you, it feels like he can feel the same coil in your gut that you do. And it's about shatter.

He slips a hand down and begins swirling his fingers over your clit, pushing you off the edge roughly, making you cream over his member with a broken yell of his name. He leans in, all of his weight on you as fucks you through it harshly. His lips right next to your ear.

"You. Are. Mine."

And with that, a warmth like no other spreads inside of you.

༄

Nearly two months passed like they were nothing, days seemed to fly with you by his side.

He felt he finally had a place where he belonged.

He found himself work cleaning peoples guns in the bar, even selling and trading some.

He had a bed to go to at the end of the day. After that first time together, you both rearranged the room. Pushing your beds together under the window and putting the dresser on the wall.

He had the other half of his soul. You. He knew everything there was to know about you, and you knew everything there was to know about him. Well- all he was willing to tell. Sometimes, there was a dark glint in his eyes that made you feel like you didn't know the full story of the man you shared your life with. But all doubt faded away when he smiled at you.

All was well- more than well. It was perfect.

Until a group of strangers rode into town. Strangers to the town. But strangers to Mingi, they were not.

He walked into the bar and Mingis heart stopped. He saw all of his hard work to get you, to settle, to make a life- all of it- vanish. It disappeared.

"Fuck me," he groans, keeping his head low and cursing himself for not wearing his hat today. He hopes that he'll go unnoticed. But that hope is squashed when the man slides into the booth across from him.

"Well, slap my ass and call me Pamela. Song Mingi!" The rowdy man immediately catches Louis' attention from behind the bar.

"Why are you here, Buck?" Mingi keeps his tone low, hostile.

"You know why I'm here. You want in?" The man, Buck, has a smirk playing mischievously on his lips.

"No. You, and whoever else you drug into this town are leaving. This town is off limits."

Buck lets out a shrill chuckle, "says who?"

"Says me. This is my town. Get the fuck out before I shoot you." Mingi growls, placing his pistol on the table, finger twitching at the trigger.

That gets Louis' full attention, his hand immediately unlocking the safety on his gun as he makes his way over. "Mingi, who's your friend?" He hates to admit, but he's grown fond of Mingi over these long winter days.

"He's leaving. Ain't that right?" Mingi tilts his head at Buck, who takes a look around. Multiple patrons of the bar have their hands on their guns, ready to draw.

He isn't stupid. Mingi is apart of these people now and they'll protect him.

"Yeah, that's right." He slides out of the booth, giving Mingi a seemingly innocent smile. But Mingi knows him all too well. "I'm glad you finally found yourself a nice girl to settle down with."

With that finally threatening congratulations, he's back out the bar the way he came. Mingi watches from the window with wide eyes as he joins the posse of men outside. As soon as they start wandering away, looking into shops and other such buildings Mingi has come to be so fond of, he snaps into action.

He runs up the stairs, nearly bumping his head. They've been casing the town, that's the only way he'd know about you.

"Mingi!" Louis follows after him, slowed by age.

He finds him reaching under the bed, staring bamboozled as he places gun after gun after gun into the mattress. "Mingi!"

He ignores the panicking man, loading all of them up. "Son!" His head snaps up, tears threatening his waterline.

"Louis, they're going to raid the town."

"What...?"

"I don't have time to explain, I have to go- go get (Y/n). You need to gather everyone who knows how to shoot. I n-"

"Boy, I don't care much for nonsense."

"Listen to me, Louis!" He clearly panicked, an expression he's never seen from him before. "What reason do I have to lie? This is my home too! This is my home and my woman, and I'll be damned if I let Buckey fuck-face and his thugs ruin it!" In his panic, Mingi doesn't notice the ring that falls from his bag as he gets out more ammunition.

Louis bends down next to Mingi and picks it up, puzzle pieces falling together in his mind.

Mingi snatches it back and shoves it in the bag.

"You're gonna propose to my little girl?"

"Not if we all die," Mingi responds shortly, shoving an armful of guns into Louis.

They share a look.

It seems Mingi made a similar promise to himself about you.

"Go and fetch her, don't raise any suspicion. If the townspeople know what's coming, it'll start a panic."

Mingi gives him a short nod. To say yes, sir. To say thank you.

He keeps his head down, hat covering his face as he weaves his way to the very back of the town. Trying his damnedest to avoid everyone from his past.

When he successfully makes it to the river, he spots you and is filled with relief.

You hum quietly to yourself, bundled up in his large poncho to protect yourself from the frigid January weather as you clean your clothes.

The harsh winds whip your loose hairs around, makes the clothes on the line flap loudly.

"(Y/n)!"

"Hey, Darlin-" He pulls you up, holding you close to his side as he drags you away, "what're you doing?"

"Just keep your head down, when we get back to the bar, go to our room, lock yourself in the bathroom. Okay?"

"Min, you're scarin' me..."

"Do you understand?" He asks firmly, stopping at the edge of town, turning you to face him.

He looks deadly serious. You haven't seen this kind of look since the first day you met. So you nod, committing what he said to memory.

"I love you," he kisses you deeply, shortly.

And then he drags you through town, and into the bar. But he pushes you right behind him when you walk in.

Buck has Miss Maria and Louis tied up, pushed to the floor. The few patrons are gone, and the yelling outside tells him Louis' plan to keep things calm has failed. Multiple men are rummaging around the bar, cleaning out the register. He can't hear any noise above them, and he's thankful that the entrance to your small home is so well hidden by the corner.

He feels you grip the back of his leather jacket, and he's about to turn and tell you to run when he feels you get ripped away.

Your scream echos in the building as one of Bucks men tears you away, and Mingi has to stop himself from shooting the man the second he puts his hands on you. Doing that will just get you all killed.

He's deadly silent as he watches the man toss you to the floor. His gun was drawn the second you got tore away, and he's itching to use it.

You try to scramble away, but Buck comes up behind you and places his boot on your back, shoving you back down with a thud. Maria is sobbing uncontrollably into her hands, Louis' jaw is locked in anger as he looks away.

He bends down, putting more pressure on your spine. He grips your hair and turns your face to the side. "Well, well," he smirks, "you're even prettier up close, ain't you?"

Everyone stops in their tracks as you spit in his face. "Fuck you!" One of the men closest to you has a gun to your head in the next second, but you refuse to break.

"Feisty, I like that," he shoves your head to the floor, hitting it against it roughly. Mingi is seeing red as the world around him resumes, men ransacking the bar and chortling at your family. His family.

"Buck."

"Oh?" He turns, leaving you on the floor, "got something to say, pansy?"

"Yeah." His eyes flick to yours as you push yourself up dizzily, and over to one of the booths before Buck even realizes he's looked away. "You need a key for the safe. I gonna give it to you, and youre gonna take it and leave."

"Is that so? That's what's gonna happen?"

"That's what's gonna happen."

"You really lost your guts, aye? Found a nice girl and a cozy town and decided you're too good for this life, I see."

Mingi slips his pistol back into its holster on his hip, sauntering over to the bar with all eyes on him. He stands infront of Maria and Louis, shielding them from what's about to come. "You see it how it is, then." He lifts up the pot of dying chrysanthemums in the middle of the wooden island and scoops up the key. His eyes spot you curling up under the booth he glanced at. Thank goodness you got the message.

Cause shit is about to hit the fan.

He tosses the key to Buck, and as his hands raise up to catch it-

He puts a bullet in his brain.

You can't help the scream that rips past your lips, covering your ears and hiding your face in your knees.

As the men behind the bar start shooting at him, he ducks, shielding the older couple as the men infront of them begin firing. But he's too quick. Only one of them gets close, grazing his shoulder and stunning him briefly. He drops his pistol and takes the larger gun off of his back, propping it up over the island blindly and spraying the rest of the men in a hail of bullets.

And then all is silent.

With a heavy heart, you look up from your lap. The building is covered in blood, light seeps in from the holes in the walls caused by stray bullets. Maria is crying silently. Louis is looking at Mingi in shock as he falls onto his backside, holding his bleeding shoulder.

"What the hell was that, boy?"

"That was me saving your ass."

༄

Mingi and Louis, with the help of a few good samaritans, cleared the bodies out of the bar and drug them to the outskirts of town. Leaving them for the coyotes and bears. If it were up to him, Mingi would have hung them up as an example.

Maria, seemingly in shock, scrubs the floor with a blank face as you fix up the register and dig out all of the bars belongings from the bandits bags.

You feel a roll of papers at the bottom of one of the bag. A silent hum of amusement leaves you as you see what it is. They kept their own wanted posters. Proud of what they've done. You flip through them. Maybe out of morbid curiosity of who your boyfriend just gunned down. And then you get to one who you know wasn't a victim.

Because he was the gunner.

Mingis face in a sketch stares up at you.

WANTED.

DO NOT APPROACH. ALERT THE AUTHORITIES.

DANGEROUS FUGITIVE. SONG MINGI.

The door to the bar swings open.

The world spins around you as you look up from the drawing. And come face to face with it, brought to life.

"Mingi..."

"Are you okay, Doll?"

You can't seem to find any words that describe the way your heart is breaking. Louis approaches you first, his own heart stopping as he sees what's held in your trembling hands. He tears it from you, glaring down like it's a hallucination.

"Who are you?" Is all you can manage to whisper, backing away with a grip on your uncles sleeve as Mingi steps forward.

"What is that?" He nods to the paper, although deep down he has an idea of what it is.

Maria snaps out of her trance, joining your side, a gasp leaving her lips as she looks back and forth from the paper to Mingi.

"You get out of here, you never show your face in this town again," Louis grips the man's collar and pulls him to his level, "You're lucky my girls are watching or I'd hold true to my promise."

Mingi shoves him away and grabs the paper from Maria, his worst thoughts come true as he sees himself staring back at him.

"Wh..." He trails of in a whisper, heart breaking into a million pieces as you look at him fearfully. Like you did the first time you met. He thought he'd never have to see that look again. "(Y/n), please, hear me out."

Maria holds you to her chest as he approaches. "I knew I sensed evil in you, boy." She bares her teeth at him as she seethes, like a wild mother bear.

"Leave," your voice trembles, raw with all of the emotions that are flooding you. You lean further into your aunts arms as he reaches out for you. "You lied to me! I never want to see you again! I ought to turn you in!"

"You have to believe me, I'm not like that anymore. Baby, listen! I only did what I had to to survive, you don't understand. I'm not like them!" He fights against Louis as he drags him to the door. "Please, I love you!" He's thrown off the porch, only getting a glimpse of you as you crumble to the floor before the door is slammed in his face.

༄

Mingi drapes his mare's reigns over a poll, trudging through the snow until he's at a familiar door.

He doesn't bother knocking. He barges in and stares down at the man at the desk.

"Mingi, long time no s-"

"I have a job for you." He slaps down a wad of cash, "more where this came from when you're done."

The man sighs, but takes the cash, thumbing through it. "And why don't you do it?"

Mingi ignores the question. "Louis and Maria Donelley. Shoot them, make it quick. (Y/n) (L/n). Tie her up on the tracks."

He hesitates for a moment. But in the end, "More where this came from, huh?"

༄

It's been three days since Mingi has gone away. Rather, since he was forced away by his past and your reaction to it.

You've slept for most of that time. Cried the rest. You barely eat. Barely talk. You hardly even move off your side of the once-shared bed.

Maria, Louis, all of your friends tried to comfort you. Telling you that he was just a fling. That the one for you will come around and make all of the pain Mingi left disappear.

They don't know that Mingi was the one.

He made you so happy. Happier than you'd ever been. He made everything seem... right.

"Hey, Dear," Louis knocks at the wall, slowly coming ascending into the room.

"I don't want the soup, Uncle Lou..."

"Auntie!" Ellis comes barreling past Louis and jumps onto the bed, hugging you tightly.

"Ellis? Hey, Buddy!" You force a smile as you hug him back, sitting up with a groan and holding the child in your lap. "How you been?"

Ellis goes on and on about what the new teacher from the city is teaching his class, a big smile on his face. Louis sees the smile pulling at your lips in the slightest, and he excuses himself silently.

He, admittedly, is a very good distraction from your pain.

You spend quite a few hours playing with him, catching up on the things that are going on in town. He drops the ball onto the jacks and giggles loudly as it rolls away, under the bed. "I'll get it, set us up another round."

You bend down and feel around for it blinding, heart skipping a beat as you feel Mingis bag. You haven't found the courage to touch any of his things, even if to throw them away.

You move away from it and grip the ball, rolling it back to Ellis. "El, I'm feeling a bit tired, why don't you come back tomorrow."

"Aw... okay! I'll bring Violet and we can play outside!"

"See you then, Kiddo," you ruffle his hair as he passes you to leave.

It was a nice break from your sorrows while it lasted.

You crawl back into your half of the bed as the sun sets in the window above it, pulling Mingis pillow into your arms as you sob yourself to sleep once again.

Deep into the night, you feel the bed dip. You open your eyes with the littlest inkling of hope that Mingi has returned despite your harsh words his way.

But you're only met with a stranger.

You open your mouth to scream, but only get a small squeak out before you are met with a hit on the head.

༄

You awake as your body is tossed into the air, a loud groan leaving you as you collide with something hard. Through your blurry vision, you can see the moon high above you.

You look to the side, and you put two and two together that you're in a wooden cart as you see the stranger from above your bed riding on a horse that's got you attached to it. "Hey-" You croak out, getting his attention.

"Morning!" He yells, making you wince. You have a splitting headache. "Just in time for the show," he mumbles under his breath, pulling the horse to a stop.

You can hear him shuffling around in the snow, and you try to sit up before you realize you can't. Your entire body is tied in a thick rope.

The back of the cart opens up, and you try -you try so hard- to shimmy away as he reaches in and grabs your foot. But to no avail.

He pulls you from the cart and lets you fall into the snow. It wets the back of your nightgown and hair, soaks your thin socks and makes you shiver. You don't think you've ever been this scared. Even during the shootout, Mingi was there to protect you.

You watch with a fresh set of tears brewing in your eyes as you watch the man double knot some ropes onto the tracks. "Oh my God..."

He ignores as you begin to beg for your life, telling him all sorts of things about you to try and make him sympathetic. "- and his name is Louis, he took me in when my parents died! Uncle Lou and Aunt Maria, please! She'd die of heartbreak!" He scoffs, knowing she's already dead. So is Uncle Lou.

He followed Mingis request and made it quick.

He pulls you by your binds to the tracks, the metal on the tracks is the coldest thing you've ever felt and it makes you yelp. You cry out in the night as he begins tying the ropes on the tracks to the ropes on your body.

"Please, why are you doing this?!" Your voice shook with pure horror, tugging at the ropes that were wrapped around your entire body and tied to the tracks by the bandit. He crouched down at your feet and smirked, his simple answer making you cry all the harder.

"Why not?"

All of your pleas and prayers fall to deaf ears as the man turns away and to his cart, rummaging in his chest. The tracks begins to shake and you begin to except your fate. You turn your head to the side and watch the pebbles rumble, your sobs visible in puffs of air as you exhale into the harsh winter air.

A loud thud and a groan makes you look back, and you see a tall figure on a familiar white horse.

"Mingi!" He drops the crowbar he used to whack the man as he rode past.

He looks back at you briefly- his face hidden by his droopy hat. But you can tell he's pissed. His jaw clenched and shoulders tense before a gunshot rings out and he ducks and rolls off of Mare, slapping her to make her run away as he draws his own gun.

Between the rattling of the tracks and the thrumming of your heart, you can barely force yourself to watch as he approaches the man bravely, your eyes flicking from them to the horizon repeatedly. A sob of his name makes him pause for a split second before he comes back to his body.

"Too close," Mingi scowls at the man, using his gun to smack his hand and make him drop his, kicking it away as he scrambles for it.

"Aye, man, I did what yo-"

"Too close."

"Just give me my mon-"

His gun smokes by his side in the next second as the man drops to the desert floor dead. He takes a moment to bask in the way the blood pools in the pure white snow before the steam whistle catches his attention.

"Mingi, please!" He drops everything and runs to the tracks, crawling over your body and looking at your binds frantically. "Mingi, oh my God, please- I'm so sorry! Please untie me, hurry," you babble on in a panic as the train appears just over the horizon, sobs wracking you body under his as he tugs at the ropes.

Your horror breaks his heart, but he knows it's necessary. He knows he has a knife strapped to his back, but he plays the panic card and 'forgets' as he forces a false worry onto his face. He won't let anything happen to his Doll, but you're too caught up in your fight or flight to remember that.

"I got you, I got you," he murmurs as he pulls the ropes on one of your sides undone, taking his sweet time with the other as he watches the train grow ever closer- the conductor blaring the horn.

Your free hand grasps at him, clawing at his leather jacket, eyes wide and soaked with tears as you stare down your death as it barrels towards you. Just a few feet away.

Mingi yanks you up and falls to the ground besides the tracks with you on top of him, hands roughly holding you to his chest as his hat blows away with the wind that the train creates. You willingly slump into him, sobbing into his warm chest as the tracks rattle loudly besides you, drowning out your cries.

He relishes in the way you cling to him well after the train passes, not daring move away from your savior as you cry your heart out and ramble on to him about how you're so sorry and how you never would have really turned him in and on and on until he silences you with a tender hug.

He knows all of this. His Doll would never betray him. But it's best that he get a subconscious message through your thick, naive, skull early on.

The message being: the attempt to leave him has failed miserably. Why even try to leave when he's so clearly your fate?

༄

Mingi locks the bar door behind him as he carries you into the building. He kicks off his boots. He knows you hate the mess.

It was silent the entire way back to town.

And it remains that was as he carries you up the stairs and to bed. He doesn't even acknowledge you as he gets you some clean, dry clothes.

"Mingi..."

He sighs, shoulders dropping.

"I'm s-"

"I thought you hated me?"

"Min... I was just- just in shock! Why didn't you tell me you were... an outlaw?"

He kneels at the bed and slips your socks off, replacing them with a warm, thick pair.

The moonlight seeps in through the sheer curtains and paints your skin in a haze of blue. The bruise on your temple like a water color bloom.

"Because I was afraid." He bites his lip as it trembles. That's the plain truth. He was afraid you'd leave if you found out all the things he'd done. But now that you know, he still doesn't plan on letting you leave. "Please forgive me, Doll."

He lowers his head into your lap and smirks as he feels your hand rest on his hair.

"Come back home, Mingi."

"Really?" He looks up with the most puppy like gaze you've ever seen.

You nod, wiping your tears away, "I don't care what the others have to say. We can leave this place if we have to, I just need to be with you, M-" His lips collide onto yours as he pounces on you, pushing you onto the bed and nipping at your lips like he's starved. And he is, because-

"I missed you so fucking much, Doll," he growls into your lips, melting into you as you wrap your arms around him. It feels like it's the first time in forever, and it is to him.

"I love you, Mingi," you whisper as you look up at him, chasing after him as he sits up on his knees.

He lifts your ruined nightgown, looking down at you as if you're a work of art as he tosses it away. "I love you," he whispers back, cupping your breast in his warm, big hands. "I love you so much it hurts."

You lay back with a moan, arching into his touch. Your mind is so fried from this weeks events, all you want to do is disappear into him.

And you let it be know. "Take your clothes off." You tug at his buckled belt with an utterance, licking your lips at the sight of his happy trail. "Show me how much you missed me. Show me how much you love me."

Your sultry words have him undressing in a hurry, slamming his pistol down on the nightstand he made and kissing you deeply as he removes his belt, heart beating rapidly as you cup his cheeks to bring him closer.

You're the closest to heaven he's ever been. Kissing down his neck and stroking his back. He doesn't know how or why this infatuation grew into something wild and untamable. And frankly, he doesn't care.

You are quickly working to undress his top half while he kicks his pants away, letting his larger gun clatter to the floor. You no longer care if he leaves them out. You just want him home.

"I was so worried about you, Baby," he pants, "I know I hurt you. I'm so sorry," he places kiss after kiss after kiss on your face, rubbing your thighs as he slides between them. "I love you. I adore you. I want you. I'm yours. You're mine." Every statement is accompanied by a kiss.

"I'm so sorry, Min," you look deep into his eyes as he rubs his member on your wetness, "you're my one and only. I don't care what you've done to get here. As long as I have you in my arms. As long as I'm in yours."

He hugs you tightly, forehead against yours as he slips inside of you. "I will never leave you," he moans out, settling deep inside of you as you pant and whine.

You've taken him quite a few times at this point, but never like this.

He always takes his time sinking into you, reveling in the slow stretch.

But not tonight. Not after what you've been through. He needs to feel you, and now.

He needs to feel your emotional connection on a physical plane. And so do you. That's why you don't stop him or push him away as he lowers into you quickly.

You ground yourself by wrapping your arms under his and gripping his shoulders, careful of his healing wound.

His chest against yours, heart beats drumming together as you try to disappear into each others being.

Affectionate touches are left all over the both of your bodies. Tender kisses and promises of love.

"You're all I ever wanted," you whisper into his chest as he starts a languid pace. "I want to be yours, tell me I'm yours."

"You're mine, Doll, all mine." He speaks ever so softly, cradling your head to his chest. He can't believe how lucky he's gotten.

"Make me believe you, show me I'm yours."

And he does.

God knows how or why Song Mingi has so much stamina, but no amount of time passed stops him from pounding into you, he stops when he thinks you've had enough.

He's made you cum seven times through the night, and with the sun beginning to rise out the window, he's still at it.

Its been hours, and his pace hasn't slowed one bit. If anything, your pants and whines stir him on and he almost hammers into you. The quick in and out rhythm makes him moan. Your heat encasing him as the cold winter air seeps in through the walls that makes him want to bury himself in your body and never leave.

He knows he's big. He's so big and you're small compared to him. But he doesn't care when he's balls deep in your sore and swollen pussy. He makes you take it to the base and chuckles deeply when you try and crawl away.

"Min- can't take it," you sob, but that doesn't stop him.

He grips your hips roughly and pulls your clit flush to his pelvis, holding you there as you squeal out, banging your fists onto your shared bed.

"Fuck you can't, your pussy was made for me to stretch out." His next thrust sends your hips into the mattress, finally able to rest your exhausted body as he plunges into you from behind.

Each rough thrust wipes away every thought from your mind until it's all Mingi.

Mingi is so deep.

Mingi is so thick.

Mingi fucks you so good.

Mingi treats you so good.

Mingi loves you.

Mingi.

"Mingi!" You moan out loudly into the pillows as you seize up, eyes rolling into the back of your head as you cum all over him. Vision dark and blurry, drooling all over the place, barely conscious after your eighth orgasm around his massive girth.

He's panting and growling into your ear, continuing to thrust. He's relentless. He's really out to break you.

"Please," you slur, wracking your slush of a brain for a way to get him to cum. You love him, and you love fucking him. But he just won't stop until he cums. And he won't cum until you essentially force him. He's so hell bent on making you get there, he forgets about himself, like he's outside of his own body. And he's extra determined after almost losing you. Your usual tricks haven't worked. So you pull out the big guns. "Please, Min... put a baby in me." Oh, you know him all too well. He's made multiple comments about how good you are with children. How pretty you'd look with that pregnancy glow, your belly round with his baby.

"F-fuck, Doll," it seems as if that is enough to satisfy his hunger, slamming his tip into your womb and filling you with his warm and sticky seed so much that it splashes back on him and makes a mess of his lower stomach.

Still buried deep inside of you, uncaring of the mess, he lays ontop of your back gently and wraps his arms around your shoulders, his head next to yours. You shaking breaths and trembling legs calmed by his warmth over your entire body.

"Holy fucking shit," you whimper, making him chuckle quietly.

He places a gently kiss to your shoulder, "I didn't go to hard, did I?"

"You did... but I liked it."

He smiles as he rests his head, hands rubbing up your arms and to your hands, intertwining yours fingers. "I love you." He states. Loud and proud. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to share everything with you and I don't want to keep anything from you. I want you all to myself. Will you marry me?"

The words almost get lost in translation on their way to your endorphin flooded mind, and your silence makes him nervous. That is until- he sees the giant smile spreading on your lips. "Yes."

"Oh, thank goodness," he sighs a breath of relief followed by a soft laugh.

"But you'd better get me a ring," you joke, groaning out as he slowly pulls out of your abused core. There's a smirk on his lips that you can't quite place as he gently turns you on your back and helps you get comfortable.

He reaches under the bed and grabs his bag. "You didn't-"

"I did," he has his signature shit-eating-grin on his face as he takes it out. A dainty, pretty, thing. Much like he sees you.

He cuddles into your side, fur blanket draped over your lower halves. Calloused and rough hands take yours. Gently and loving with you. Their past of violence is lost as he slides the ring onto your finger tenderly.

"Mrs. Song."

༄

#ateez #ateez smut #smut fic #yandere ateez #ateez mingi #song mingi #yandere mingi #mingi smau #mingi smut #ateez smau

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 21 days

Text

1968 [Chapter 4: Zeus, God Of Thunder]

A/N: Can you believe we're already 1/3 done with this series?? I sure can't! I hope you enjoy Chapter 4. I'm so excited to show you where we're headed. The times are indeed a-changin'... 😉

Series Summary: Aemond is embroiled in a fierce battle to secure the Democratic Party nomination and defeat his archnemesis, Richard Nixon, in the presidential election. You are his wife of two years and wholeheartedly indoctrinated into the Targaryen political dynasty. But you have an archnemesis of your own: Aemond’s chronically delinquent brother Aegon.

Series Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, character deaths, New Jersey, age-gap relationships, drinking, smoking, drugs, pregnancy and childbirth, kids with weird Greek names, historical topics including war and discrimination, math.

Word Count: 7.3k

Tagging: @arcielee @huramuna @glasscandlegrenades @gemmagirlss1 @humanpurposes @mariahossain @marvelescvpe @darkenchantress @aemondssapphirebussy @haslysl @bearwithegg @beautifulsweetschaos @travelingmypassion @althea-tavalas @chucklefak @serving-targaryen-realness @chaoticallywriting @moonfllowerr @rafeism @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @herfantasyworldd @mangosmootji @sunnysideaeggs @minttea07 @babyblue711

💜 All of my writing can be found HERE! 💜

You unzip the floral suitcase that Alicent gave the nurses to pack for you. Inside are the hundreds of greeting cards sent by people from the Atlantic to the Rockies; downstairs, Eudoxia is distributing a dozen bouquets of flowers throughout the house with appropriate grimness, and more arrive each hour. You lift cards out of the suitcase by the handful and lay them down on your bed. Every movement feels slow, every thought muddled, bare feet in cold wet sand that swallows you to your ankles. The windows are open, the sheer curtains billowing. The wind whips in off the ocean, smelling of brine and sun glare, life and death.

Aemond emerges from the bathroom in a gale of steam. He finishes adjusting his eyepatch and then dresses himself: white shorts, blue polo. Aemond wears a lot of blue. It is Greek, is it American, it is the Democratic Party, it is the color of the sky that was once believed to hold Olympus, it is everything he’s ever been or wanted to be. He’s humming The House Of The Rising Sun. It’s the first time you’ve truly been alone since the night before he caught his flight to Tacoma.

Beneath the greeting cards you find the books, cosmetics, and three new sundresses, none of which you ended up wearing home. Alicent bought you a plain black shift dress, matching gloves and flats, and opaque sunglasses to hide your face from the journalists who waited outside the hospital. And there is one last item to unpack. At the bottom of the suitcase is a clear plastic bag containing fabric, white dotted with bruises of common blue violets. At first you are confounded, and then you turn it over to see the dark, saturated stain of crimson. It’s the sundress you were wearing the day you were rushed to Mount Sinai to have Ari. The nurses hadn’t known if you wanted to keep it, burn it, bury it.

“Why didn’t you come back?”

Aemond’s brow furrows, like he’s surprised by the question. He goes to his writing desk and turns the chair around so it’s facing you. He sits, crosses one leg over the other, leans back and hides his hands in his pockets. His tone is gentle, but his gaze is hard. “By the time I heard that you’d had the baby, it was already over. You were out of surgery, he was in an incubator, and that was the immutable reality. I figured there was nothing I could do at that point to improve the outcome. And that’s true. Me flying back early wouldn’t have changed anything.”

“But you should have been there,” you insist, eyes wet, voice quivering. “You should have known him like I did.”

“Winning Washington was important.”

“Washington is a basket of votes, Ari was our child, he was real.”

“No one told me he was dying—”

“Because you didn’t pick up the fucking phone.”

Aemond is incredulous, like he couldn’t have heard you correctly. “It’s not like I was playing golf or drinking myself under some bar, I was campaigning 20 hours a day and it worked.”

“Nothing on earth could have kept me away from you when you got shot in Palm Beach.”

“So maybe it wasn’t just about Washington,” Aemond says, and his words aren’t gentle anymore. They are razored, dauntless, daring you to battle him. “It’s about the whole picture, it’s about the momentum. If I had underperformed in Washington, the dominoes would fall in Kentucky, and Utah, and Virginia, and then at the national convention in August, and then against Nixon in November. I don’t have the luxury of disappearing from the public eye to sit adoringly by your bedside when we both know there isn’t a single goddamn thing I can do to help.”

“It would have made you look like a better man.”

“But not a better president.”

And like a fracture being snapped back into place, you remember what Aegon said on that bloodstained night in Florida: You’re a vessel. You’re a cow. And one day he’ll be done with you. You stare down at the ruined dress entombed in plastic, still clutched in your hands. You don’t dare to let Aemond see your eyes. You’re afraid you won’t be able to disguise the betrayal glistening there. You ask, a whisper, a whimper: “Why aren’t you sad?” I thought you loved him. I thought you were always so worried about him.

“Of course I’m sad,” Aemond says, more kindly now, patiently, like he’s speaking to someone who can’t be expected to comprehend. “But it’s different for the mother.”

You can’t reply. If you do, something lethal will pour out, smoke and poison and arrows, something that shoots to kill. Ari was quietly interred at the Targaryen family mausoleum in Saint George Greek Orthodox Cemetery in Asbury Park. It had felt so wrong to leave his tiny casket there in a silent stone prison full of strangers.

Aemond is behind you now, trying to knead the tension out of your shoulders. And for the first time in two years, you wish he’d stop touching you. Your belly hurts, your head hurts, your heart hurts, you are a garden blooming with bruises and scars. “I know you aren’t in your right mind. Everything will be better soon. I promise.”

Tears gather on your eyelashes. “I miss him.”

“We’ll have others. Here, let me take that…” Aemond grabs the bag holding your ruined dress and it’s out of your reach before you can think to resist. “You should get ready for dinner.”

“Okay,” you reply numbly, now gazing down at your empty palms. Aemond leaves with his grisly parcel, and you never see it again. But once he’s gone you don’t shed your black mourning dress, blood-soaked pad, bandages, and shake loose your hair and step into the shower. Instead, you walk around the bed to pick up the mint green rotary phone on your nightstand. You speak to a series of operators before you reach the Harbour Rocks Hotel in Sydney. While you listen to the ringing through the intercontinental wire, you sit down on the bed. You’ve never felt low like this. You’ve never felt so unmoored from everything you had believed about your life.

A gruff, familiar voice answers. He’s just waking up, slurping on his morning coffee, dabbing his moustache with a napkin. “Hello?”

“Daddy, I don’t think I’m where I’m supposed to be.”

“What?” he asks, and immediately he is no longer groggy but desperately concerned. Your parents are away on a month-long tour of Australia and often incommunicado. By the time they received news of Ari’s death and called Mount Sinai in hysterics to speak with you, you had told them not to rush home. You were about to be released, and they would not make it in time for the funeral regardless. Aemond insisted on a swift, private ceremony, a detour on the drive back to Asteria, like it was something he couldn’t wait to put in his rearview mirror. “What are you talking about, sweetheart?”

“Aemond, he…” He’s not the man I thought he was. I don’t know him, I don’t trust him. “He’s not acting right, he’s not…he didn’t…Daddy, it’s like he doesn’t care. And I don’t want to be here anymore. Can I fly down to Tarpon Springs when you and Mama get back? Can I stay with you for a while? And then…and then…” You don’t even know what words you’re looking for. They don’t exist in your universe.

“Listen, honey,” your father says with great tenderness. “Are you listening?”

“Yeah.” You’re trying to stifle your sobs so no one downstairs hears you.

“You’ve just been through something terrible. So terrible I can’t even imagine it. And of course you’re feeling out of sorts. But Aemond is your husband, he’s your protector and your ally, your best friend, your partner in life. He’s not the one responsible for what happened. You can’t misdirect your heartache at him.”

“But he’s…Daddy, there’s…there’s something wrong with him.”

“Oftentimes, it’s easier for women to talk about their emotions, both good and bad. But for men—especially men like Aemond who are so self-disciplined by nature—it can be like pulling teeth to express themselves. They don’t like to be vulnerable. They actually think they’re failing in their commitments to their wife if they let her see how much they’re struggling. Aemond is hurting just like you are. He might not show it in the way you expect, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care. Of course he cares.”

How do you know, Daddy? Have you cut him open and studied his brain, his ropy nerves, the dark chambers of his heart? “I thought he saw me like you see Mama, I thought he included me in everything because he loved and respected me, but that’s not it. He just needs someone to help him get elected, that’s all Ari and I were to him, and I can’t…I just can’t…the thought of him touching me now…”

“Sweetheart, Aemond is a good man,” your father says. “He does love you. He does respect you. And he’s doing such incredible things for this country. I have friends in Florida who’ve been voting Republican since Hoover, but they’re crossing over for Aemond. They think he’s the one to clean up this mess. Vietnam, poverty, civil rights, the riots, the shootings, the hippies, the drugs, the Russians, the Chinese, someone has to pick up the pieces and create something that makes sense. Do you think Nixon or Humphrey would end the war by this time next year? Do you think either of them would compel the South to enforce voting rights or desegregation?”

“No,” you say, closing your eyes. But that doesn’t mean I can forget what I’ve learned about Aemond.

“Here, your mom wants to say something.” Your father vanishes; your mother’s voice comes piping across the copper submarine cables that span the length of the Pacific Ocean. You wonder—randomly, distractedly—if any of the wires connecting you to Sydney run through Arizona, the place Aegon told you he didn’t want to leave.

“Hello? Are you there?”

“I’m here, Mama.”

“Oh, honey,” she sighs, distraught, hearing the exhaustion and misery in your voice. “You’ve got the baby blues, and no baby to hold good and close to help them run their course. I’m so sorry. It’s just awful, so awful.”

You speak before you know what you’re going to say. “I don’t want to be married to Aemond anymore.”

“You’re confused, sweetheart. Your hormones are all over the place, you’re in pain, you’ve just had major surgery, and after this year with all the stress from the campaign and that horrific shooting in Palm Beach—”

“He’s not like Daddy.” Tears are flooding down your cheeks; your voice is hoarse. “I thought he was, but he’s not.”

“You cannot make a mistake like this,” your mother says, and she’s turned from silk to steel. “If you do something drastic now, you’ll wake up in a month or six months or a year and realize you’ve ruined not just your life, but the chance this country had at a better future. Don’t you realize what’s at stake here? Every marriage goes through tough times. Every husband needs to learn how to care for his wife, and every wife how to best support her husband. That’s natural, and you’ve only been married two years. Of course you and Aemond are still learning how to navigate life together. It only seems so much worse because of what’s happened to the baby.”

Is she right? Am I wrong? “I don’t know,” you say weakly.

“If you leave now, what happens?” your mother demands. “You abandon the campaign and Aemond’s support plummets. You are a divorcee, a sinner, a failure. You don’t get your son back. But you do lose everything you’ve helped build. Marriage isn’t an experiment, ‘oh let’s give it a try and if we hit any bumps we’ll call the whole thing off.’ No. It’s a covenant. Marriage is for life.”

Yes it is, in just about every faith, and certainly for the Greek Orthodox Church. You are suddenly consumed by mistrust for your own body, this flesh that failed your son and now is deceiving you with doubt so heavy—like cold iron or lead or platinum—it masquerades as truth. How could you imagine a life after Aemond? What waits for you in Tarpon Springs besides the promise of an eventual remarriage that is banal, powerless, bleak, exactly what you’ve always plotted so willfully to avoid?

“Do you understand me, honey?” your mother asks, and she’s soft and kind again. “I don’t mean to be strict with you. My heart breaks for you, and I love you. I’m not trying to upset you. I’m trying to protect you from yourself.”

“Yes.” There are people getting massacred in Vietnam right now; there are people who can’t afford roofs over their heads. Who am I to complain? Your tears have stopped; your breathing is now slow and measured. “Yes, Mama. I understand.”

After you’ve hung up, you stay where you are for a long time, your hands folded limply in your lap and gazing at the paintings hung on the pale blue walls: small replicas of The Birth of Venus, Romulus and Remus, Prometheus Bound, Perseus Rescuing Andromeda, Echo and Narcissus, Jupiter and Io. Then you get up to sift through the greeting cards you’ve piled on the bed, not really seeing them. Only one captures your attention. Only one jolts you out of the fog like a flash of lightning through dark churning clouds.

You take the card Aegon gave you back when you were still a mother and set it upright on your nightstand, consider it for a while, wander into the bathroom to scrub the despair from your skin and change into something less somber for dinner.

~~~~~~~~~~

You’re playing Battleship with Cosmo by the edge of the swimming pool while all the other children splash around, howling with laughter and diving for toys they throw to the bottom and then fetch with their teeth like golden retrievers, G.I. Joes and Barbies and Trolls and even a waterlogged Mr. Potato Head. The nannies are observing intently, poised to leap in if anyone should appear to be at risk of drowning. If Ari had lived, I wouldn’t have wanted nannies to raise him, you think. I would have wanted him to have a normal childhood. I would have wanted to know him.

“Your turn,” Cosmo says with a grin. He’s the one who looks the most like Aegon, or how you imagine Aegon must have looked before the pills and the booze and the long caged decades. His hair is so light a blonde it’s nearly white, his eyes huge and glimmering and mischievous. Battleship is a bit advanced for a five-year-old. Cosmo keeps guessing the same coordinates over and over, so you periodically lie and tell him he’s sunk one of your ships. When you launch a successful attack against his, he seems to think it’s fair game to relocate the vessel to a more advantageous location.

“D7.”

He picks up his aircraft carrier and repositions it. From the record player drifts California Dreamin’. “Nope! Nothing sank!”

“Wow. I’m so bad at this.”

Cosmo is snickering. “Yeah, you are. Really bad.”

“If I got drafted, the Army would be better off leaving me at home. I’d just be a nuisance.”

“What’s drafted?”

“Never mind. Your turn to guess.”

“J12!”

The grid only goes up to 10. Nonetheless, you slap your own forehead dramatically. “Oh no, not again! You sunk my battleship!”

“Yay!” Cosmo cheers, then turns to the Jacuzzi. It’s brand new, just installed last month. “Mom, did you see? I’m winning!”

You glance over at Mimi. She has passed out, her latest Gimlet drained and her head resting atop her crossed arms, propped on the rim of the Jacuzzi. “Uh, Cosmo, run inside and ask Doxie to make you a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, okay?”

“Okay.” He scampers off, toddling on reckless little legs.

With no shortage of difficulty, you manage to stand. Each day your abdominal muscles feel less like they’ve been shredded and then mended with threads of fire, but the pain is still bad, very bad, and there are spots of skin on your belly that are numb when you skim your fingertips across them. You will have a long vertical scar like Aemond’s, an irreparable reminder of the blood you’ve paid to the cause. And for all your anguish, this particular fact doesn’t torment you. It is proof that Ari existed, however briefly, however futilely.

You amble over to the Jacuzzi, your roomy lavender dress flowing in the wind, and shove one of Mimi’s shoulders. “Mimi, wake up. Get out of the water.”

She mumbles incoherently in response. You reach for her before remembering you can’t lift anything. You look around. Alicent and Helaena are on lounge chairs at the other end of the pool; Alicent is trying very hard to look interested while Helaena shows her about 100 different butterfly species pictured in a kaleidoscopically colorful book. Criston is off giving Ludwika a tour of the property, flanked by a flock of Alopekis hoping for treats. Ludwika is Otto’s wife of six months but only newly arrived, 30 years old, perpetually unimpressed, modelesque, golden blonde, if Barbie was from Poland. Aemond, Otto, and Viserys—his sparse threads of silver hair hanging like cobwebs around his gaunt face, grimacing and clutching the armrests of his wheelchair—are conspiring on the lawn between the main house and the pool. They haven’t noticed your predicament. Fosco is sauntering by wearing some of the tiniest swim shorts you’ve ever seen. He is the son of an Italian count, gangly and chatty and from what you’ve seen almost certainly addicted to gambling.

“Will you help me move Mimi, please?” you ask him. “I’m afraid she’s going to drown.”

“Of course, of course, no problem. Let me handle it. Do not hurt yourself.” He has her half-dragged out of the Jacuzzi before Mimi startles awake.

“What’s going on?” she slurs. “Put me down, I can walk.”

“I doubt it,” you say.

“You are alright?” Fosco asks Mimi as he steadies her on the cement, wet with pool water. She clutches at his forearms helplessly.

“I’m fine. Absolutely fine.”

“Mimi, go inside,” you say. “Eat a sandwich. Tell Cosmo you’re proud of him for winning Battleship.”

“Battleship? Well, that’s just ridiculous. He’s five. Five-year-olds can’t play Battleship.”

“And yet you will congratulate him regardless.”

She can feel your impatience, your judgement, sharp like wasp stings. Mimi retreats like a kicked dog to the main house, somehow summoning the will to remain mostly upright.

You look to Fosco. “Do you know where Aegon is?” You want to see him, but you also don’t; each time you’re in the same room now is a disorienting storm of familiarity, curiosity, painful reminders, annoyance, awkwardness, longingness to again feel as close to him—to anyone—as you did during those fleeting moments at Mount Sinai Hospital in Manhattan.

Fosco chuckles. “Where is he ever? Napping, sailing, drinking, on the phone with one of his lady friends. I could not say. I have not seen him recently.”

“Okay. Thanks anyway.” The music stops—the record needs to be flipped over—and now you can just barely hear what Aemond, Otto, and Viserys are discussing.

“And you criticized me for going too young,” Aemond says to Otto. “What’s your age difference with Ludwika? 40 years?”

“She’s good publicity. She defected from the Eastern Bloc in search of the American Dream.”

“Being married to you?” Aemond quips. “I think she found the American Nightmare.”

“Speaking of wives,” Otto continues. “I assume since yours had one surgery, that’s how all the future children will need to be born, is that right?”

Aemond nods, frowning. “Yeah. And the doctors said she shouldn’t have more than three. It weakens the uterus, I guess, all that slicing and suturing. Do it too many times and ruptures get more likely, and those can be fatal.”

“Very unfortunate,” Viserys rasps. “Children are our greatest legacy. I wanted at least ten, but your mother…well…after Daeron, it just never happened again.” And you know that this is just one of the ways in which Aemond had planned to win his father’s admiration: by contributing more new Targaryens to the dynasty than anyone else. Now that’s impossible.

Otto sighs wistfully. “To have a brand new baby to parade around in the fall…that would have been wonderful.” For the first time in two years, you can sense that you have disappointed him. Fosco is watching you, uneasy, ashamed, sorry without knowing what to do about it.

“Absolutely,” Aemond says, as if this is not the first time the thought has crossed his mind. “But it’s done now. There’s no sense in dwelling on what might have been. We must look forward. It’s feasible that…well…if we try again and get good news by October, we can announce in time for Election Day…”

You can’t listen anymore. Your belly aching, your bare feet hurrying through warm emerald grass, you traverse the lawn and disappear into Helaena’s garden, painstakingly tended and continuously expanded since she was a little girl. There are marigolds and daffodils, tulips and roses, azaleas, asters, butterfly bushes, chrysanthemums, lilies and lupines, sunflowers, violets, life blooming in a hundred different shades. There are tiny statues too, tucked away in random places, stone angels and untamed creatures, alligators and turtles and rabbits and cats, the only sort the Alopekis will tolerate. At the very center of the garden is a tall circle of hedges with only one opening, an arched doorway cut into the thick lush green. You’ve been here before, though only with Aemond. On a property shared with so many family members—and the occasional intrusive journalist—it’s a good place to escape prying eyes. You pass through the threshold with a hand resting absentmindedly on your belly, as if you’re still pregnant. You keep doing this. Each time you remember you’re at the end of something rather than the beginning, it carves you open all over again.

Around the inside perimeter of the circle are twelve sculptures positioned like numbers on a clock: eleven Olympians and Hades, confined to the Underworld. In the middle of the clearing is the largest stature of all, a wrathful Zeus hurling lightning bolts and surrounded by a gurgling fountain of glass-clear water. Under the shadow of Zeus, Aegon is sprawled on the ground and smoking a joint. “So you’re hiding from them too, huh?” He gives you a sly, welcome-to-the-club smirk, then offers you his joint. “Want a hit?”

You shake your head, not taking another step towards him. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

He is confused. “Done what?”

“Any of it.” I told him about my life before. I made the mistake of thinking I could go back.

Aegon still doesn’t seem to understand. “You’re scared I’m gonna snitch?”

You shrug, evasive. It’s not just the fact that he knows. It’s the sensation that you’ve unlatched something—an attic room, a jewelry box, a birdcage—and now you can’t get it locked again, and the door rattles with every footstep and storm wind, and you are no longer Aphrodite or Io but Pandora, a hunger growing in your stitched womb like a child.

“What? What’s wrong with you?” And that’s always how he says it, not what’s the matter or are you alright or what did I do or how can I fix it?

“I��m kind of…embarrassed, I guess.”

“Embarrassed,” Aegon echoes. “Because of me?”

“I feel like I said and did a lot of things that were out of character because I was emotionally compromised.”

“They were out of character for who you’ve been trying to convince everyone you are since you married Aemond, sure. But they weren’t out of character for you.”

He’s treading too close now, arrows piercing their mark, a tremor near the epicenter. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Au contraire, I have acquired many interesting revelations recently.”

“Where’d you learn French? From Mimi?”

His smile dies. “Boarding school.”

You don’t know how to reply. You don’t know how to be around Aegon without either hating him or letting him see parts of yourself that you’re trying to drown like Icarus in the waves. You glance yearningly towards the doorway cut into the hedges.

All at once, Aegon is furious. “You don’t want to talk to me? You want to go back to how it was before, you want to pretend Mount Sinai never happened? Fine. You got it. Wish fucking granted. Whatever you have to do.”

He turns away from you. You flee from him. But that night when Asteria is hushed and still—Aemond, Criston, and Otto are attending a fundraising dinner in Philadelphia, and you are temporarily excused from accompanying them as you recover—you creep down into the basement of the main house to apologize. Mimi sleeps in a bedroom on the second floor, but here Aegon can keep odd hours and drink and smoke to his heart’s content, and even entertain clandestine guests, girls who are beautiful and giggling and never invited twice.

Aegon isn’t here. He might be passed out somewhere, or at a party, or maybe even upstairs with Mimi, and something about this idea twists through your mending guts like a blade. In his absence, you take a quick look around his room, something you’ve never done before. You hadn’t had any interest; it wouldn’t even have occurred to you. There’s a large green futon, a matching shag carpet, a television, a bookshelf full of notebooks and paperbacks—Kurt Vonnegut, Harper Lee, Sylvia Plath, Truman Capote, Ken Kesey—and vinyl albums, a record player, and his two acoustic guitars. The first is unpainted maple wood covered with stickers. I’d rather be nowhere reads one; Burn pot not people proclaims another. The second guitar is the souvenir he bought in Manhattan, an aquamarine blue six-string.

There's something strange on his end table. Along with a dozen empty cups is a full ashtray, and there’s a folded piece of paper tucked underneath. You slide the paper out and open it. It’s the receipt you used to solve the long division problem in your hospital room.

Why would he keep this? you think, mystified. There are footsteps above your head, and you quickly return the receipt to where you found it and leave before your trespass can be discovered.

When you emerge from the basement, Fosco is waiting in the hallway and carrying a Tupperware container filled with something that resembles kourabiethes, Greek shortbread cookies. “I thought I saw you sneak down there. What were you looking for?”

You scramble for an explanation. “One of the dogs is missing. Alicent wanted me to check the basement.”

“Ah, yes, I see.” He passes you the Tupperware container. “These are for you. I hope they are not too bad. I baked them myself.”

“Are they…” You shake it. “Biscotti?”

“They are ossi dei morti,” Fosco says. “Bones of the dead. We make them to remember loved ones we have lost. They are hard, so you should dip them in coffee or tea before you try to eat them.”

You open the lid. Inside are long thin cookies coated with powdered sugar. You inhale almond flour, cloves, cinnamon. And you are so touched you cannot find your words.

“You know, there still places in Italy where mothers wear black for years to mourn their children.” This is not trivia; it is an acknowledgement. Your son is gone. There is no shame in the grief that is left behind. In another house, it would be expected, it would be required.

“Thank you, Fosco.”

He smiles warmly. “We are in this together, no? We are pieces of the same machine.”

Then he plods off towards the living room, sliding a rolled-up horse racing program out of the back pocket of his tight plaid pants.

~~~~~~~~~~

You’re in Louisville, Kentucky, where thunder quakes the eaves. An hour ago, Aegon was popping Valium and leisurely plucking at his pool water blue Gibson guitar, slumped against the wall, nipping at a flask filled with straight Bacardi. But he’s not anymore. Now he’s gathered around the small color television with you, Criston, Otto, Fosco, Helaena, and Ludwika. The news is just breaking. There was a civil rights protest at the University of Kentucky in Lexington one hour to the east. Someone threw a rock, or someone claims someone threw a rock, or someone threw something that was mistaken for a rock, and in any event the situation escalated from there and local police who were monitoring the demonstration opened fire on a crowd, killing five students and injuring another dozen.

Outside, word is spreading through the crowd of over 2,000 people that have gathered for Aemond’s planned speech at the historic Iroquois Amphitheater, a New Deal project finished in 1938. Rain is pouring, and the venue has no roof. Aemond is already 20 minutes late. The voices are becoming louder, more demanding, more wrathful. They’re shouting that Aemond is too afraid to face them now, that he’s trying to figure out what his statement will be, that he’s cowardly and calculating; and if President Lyndon Baines Johnson was here tonight instead of cursing his bad stars up in Washington D.C., he would certainly have something to say about the capriciousness of voters who love you, hate you, carry you higher, drag you down, all without ever knowing you.

In truth, Aemond is not stalling on purpose. He’s in the bathroom trying to get his prosthetic eye in. It’s been giving him hell all afternoon. He wears his eyepatch at home, but he’s never made a public appearance without his glass eye clean and perfect in his voided socket.

“He’s going to have to say something about it,” you tell the others as you watch the news coverage.

“Say what?” Otto snaps. “If he doesn’t treat those dead kids like martyrs he’s going to get booed off the stage. If he condemns the police he’s going to lose the suburbs. They’ll run to Humphrey now and Nixon in November.”

The weather report called for storms—which is why Alicent, Mimi, and the children are already back at the Seelbach Hotel for the night after a long day of shaking hands and smiling gamely—but no one expected it to get this bad. The room you’re huddled in is just off-stage, so you can see it all: the wind ripping signs and flags from people’s hands, drenched clothes, sopping hair, snarling faces, rain turning puddles to rivers. The stomping of boots is now as loud as the thunder. Rocks and bottles are being pitched at the stage.

“Is America always like this?” Ludwika asks, scandalized.

“No, not at all,” Otto says. “Goddamn animals…”

Aegon replies, not taking his eyes from the television: “You’d be mad too if cops were shooting your friends and the only graduation present you had to look forward to was getting disemboweled by guerillas in Vietnam.”

“I’ve had it with you and your Marxist bullshit! You want to liberate the dispossessed masses? Why don’t you start by donating your monthly drugs and rum budget to the—”

“We should cancel,” Fosco says. “Just call the whole thing off. Tell them Aemond is sick or something.”

“That’s the headline you want? ‘Senator Targaryen hides from grieving supporters who braved a thunderstorm to see him’?! Just give the White House to Nixon now!”

“I don’t think we can cancel,” Criston says softly. “I think if we tried to leave, they’d swarm the car.”

“It’s a riot,” Otto moans, rubbing his face with his hands. “This is what happens when you court voters like this, college kids and hippies, professional malcontents…”

“Aren’t there police outside?” Ludwika says anxiously.

“Yeah, a handful,” Criston tells her. “And if they try to do anything this will erupt and we can add to the body count in Lexington…”

You leave them and follow a hallway to the men’s bathroom; on the periphery of your vision, you can tell that Aegon is watching you go. You push the door open and find a row of stalls and three sinks, one of which Aemond is standing in front of as he stares into his reflection and attempts to shove the prosthetic eye into his empty, gore-red left socket. His suit is navy blue, his hair neatly slicked back, his shoes so polished they’re reflective like a mirror.

“Fuck,” he hisses, flinching. His right cheek is wet with tears of frustration and agony. It’s July 26th, and tomorrow are the final three state conventions in the Democratic primary. Humphrey is almost certain to take Utah; Virginia will go to Governor Mills Godwin, who is only running in his home state to control the delegates and will hand them over to whoever he feels is most worthy in August. But Aemond is the favorite to win here in Kentucky. Or at least, he was an hour ago.

“What can I do? What do you need?”

“You can’t do anything. It’s…it’s this goddamn nerve pain, it feels like I’m being fucking stabbed, I can’t get the muscles to relax enough…”

Like an apology, you say: “Aemond, the crowd is getting out of control.”

“So you came in here to rush me?”

“No, I’m here to help.”

“You’re not helping. You’re doing the exact opposite.”

“I think you should give this speech with your eyepatch on. It looks good, and you’ll be as comfortable as possible, and the crowd won’t have to wait any longer than they have already.”

“No.”

“Aemond, please—”

“No! FDR didn’t make speeches in his wheelchair and I’m not making mine without my eye in.”

“Do you want me to get you Aegon’s pills? Rum, weed?”

“You don’t think I’ve already taken something?” He tries to force his eye in again and strikes his fist against the sink when he can’t.

Then you ask gingerly: “Do you know what you’re going to say about the shooting?”

“Get out!” Aemond shouts. “You’re making it worse, just get the fuck out! Go!”

You bolt from the bathroom, hands trembling, throat burning. You don’t want to return to the television where the others are standing; you’re worried they’ll be able to tell how upset you are. You go to the edge of the stage, arms crossed protectively over your chest, and peek out into the crowd. Above their chants and jeers and howled threats, lightning splits the sky.

I don’ t think we’re going to be able to find our way out of this one. I think this is the end of the road.

“Hey,” Aegon says, tapping your shoulder. “Back up.”

“I’m fine here.”

“No you’re not.” He grabs your arm and tugs you farther backstage. Seconds later, an Absolut Vodka bottle explodes into crystalline shrapnel where you were standing. You yelp and Aegon gives you a little eyebrow raise. I told you, he means.

“Someone has to go out there,” Otto says, still lurking by the television. Fosco is comforting Helaena, who is quietly weeping; Ludwika is watching the news coverage in horror, surely reconsidering all her life choices. A sixth University of Kentucky student has been declared dead. “We can’t wait.”

“No we can’t,” Criston agrees. Then they both turn to you expectantly.

Your blood goes icy. Tonight was meant to be your first official appearance since the baby. Your hair is up, your dress a navy blue to match Aemond’s suit, gold chains around your wrist and throat, a gold chain of a belt. You thought you were ready. But it wasn’t supposed to be like this.

“Don’t you look at her,” Aegon says, sharp like a scalpel, like a bullet, like something that punctures arteries and lungs. “They’re throwing glass. You figure something else out, don’t even look at her.”

Otto relents, perhaps halfheartedly. “No, you’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Criston starts heading for the bathroom to get Aemond. Otto is watching the television again, his face vacuous as his ambitions are carried away by a flood of rain, wind, rage, blood. Aegon snatches his guitar from where he left it by the wall. He tosses the strap over his head, gives the strings a few experimental strums and retunes them, starts walking towards the stage.

“Aegon, what are you doing?” you ask, panicked.

“Someone has to distract the crowd.”

“No, stop, you can’t—”

“Hey,” Aegon says. And when you glance past him at the uproarious, storm-drenched frenzy, he turns your face back to his to make sure you’re listening. His hand is insistent but gentle, his voice steady. “Don’t go out there. Okay?”

“Okay,” you agree, startled.

He gives you one last small, parting smile, a flash of his teeth, a daring glint in his murky blue eyes. Then he’s out in the torrential rain, soaked to the skin in seconds. His frayed green Army jacket clings to him; his hair is ravaged by the wind. As he takes his place behind the microphone, a stone that someone has hurled skates by him and nicks the apple of his left cheek. You can see a trickle of blood snaking down his sunburned skin before the rain washes it away; you feel a desperate gnawing dread that someone will hurt him, not just here but anywhere, not just now but ever. The crowd is still seething, shouting, stomping their feet to join the inescapable growl of the thunder. Aegon’s pick flies over the guitar strings as he begins playing, raindrops cast from his fingers like spells. At first, you can barely hear him.

“Come gather ‘round, people, wherever you roam

And admit that the waters around you have grown

And accept it that soon you’ll be drenched to the bone

If your time to you is worth saving

And you better start swimmin’ or you’ll sink like a stone

For the times, they are a-changin’”

The audience is settling down now. Some of them are singing along. You can feel that Otto, Ludwika, Fosco, and Helaena are gathering around you, but you don’t grasp anything they’re saying. You can’t tear your eyes from Aegon. It’s like you’re seeing him for the first time, this radiant sunbeam of a man, a light in dark places, a constellation that whispers myths through the ink-spill indigo of the night sky. How could you ever have hated him? How could you ever have thought he was worthless?

“Come writers and critics who prophesize with your pen

And keep your eyes wide, the chance won’t come again

And don’t speak too soon, for the wheel’s still in spin

And there’s no tellin’ who that it’s naming

For the loser now will be later to win

For the times, they are a-changin’”

Aemond and Criston appear beside you at the edge of the stage; Aemond’s prosthetic eye has at last been successfully placed with no lingering evidence of a struggle. You expect him to apologize for what he said in the bathroom, but he doesn’t. Instead he says when he sees Aegon: “What the hell is he doing?”

“Saving your career,” you reply simply.

“Come senators, congressmen, please heed the call

Don’t stand in the doorway, don’t block up the hall

For he that gets hurt will be he who has stalled

The battle outside raging

Will soon shake your windows and rattle your walls

For the times, they are a-changin’”

Now Aegon peers pointedly off-stage to where Otto Hightower is gawking. Aegon beams, throws his head back to get his dripping hair out of his eyes, comes back to the mic.

“Come mothers and fathers throughout the land

And don’t criticize what you can’t understand

Your sons and your daughters are beyond your command

Your old road is rapidly aging

Please get out of the new one if you can’t lend your hand

For the times, they are a-changin’”

Everyone you can see in the crowd is singing and swaying. It’s not just a Bob Dylan song from 1964 but an anthem, a prayer, a rallying cry, a dire warning for the powers at be.

“The line, it is drawn, the curse, it is cast

The slow one now will later be fast

As the present now will later be past

The order is rapidly fading

And the first one now will later be last

For the times, they are a-changin’”

The audience is applauding and whistling. Aegon steals a glimpse of where you are standing backstage, checks that Aemond is still there with you and that he’s ready.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Aegon broadcasts with a wicked grin. “I am now proud to present the next president of the United States of America, Senator Aemond Targaryen!”

And Aemond is crossing the stage, no trace of pain or self-consciousness or prey-animal fear, no mere mortal but someone chosen by the gods, and the rain is slowing to a drizzle, and the clouds are opening to let through rare pinprick aisles of daylight, and the riotous spectators are now his disciples, exorcised of any rage they’ve ever felt for the scarred senator from New Jersey. He and his family are not the enemy; they are the solution. They are revolutionaries who have bled for the cause. They bring with them the change that is required. Aegon steps back and the rest of you join him in a semi-circle like a crescent moon behind Aemond. When you walk out onto the stage, the cheers swell to screams.

Aegon takes off his guitar and then leans into you. “He’s lucky you aren’t 35,” Aegon whispers, soft lips that curl into a smile as they brush your ear. And he’s teasing you but he’s not mocking, he’s not mean. He’s so close you share the same atmosphere, the same gravity. “Maybe when he finishes up his second term you can start building your resume for your first.”

“I want your endorsement.”

“From the disgraced former mayor of Trenton? What an honor. You’ll have to fight for it.”

You ball up a fist and playfully bump your knuckles against his chin. He pretends to bite at you. And you laugh for the first time since a doctor and priest entered your hospital room 13 days ago. Aegon slings an arm around your shoulders, pulls you against him, soaks you in his rain.

“Today in Lexington, we lost six brave and brilliant souls,” Aemond says, his voice booming through the amphitheater. A hush ripples through the crowd as they listen, enraptured. “Their sacrifice was for the most noble of causes, but they should never have been forced to pay the ultimate price. They deserved long, full lives in a better America than the one we now call home. This tragedy is a symptom of the sickness that has infected this nation, a fatal failure to empathize with our fellow countrymen, a deafness to pleas for justice, a blindness to mercy. But the remedy is within all of us, for it is our own humanity. When we purge the diseases of war, prejudice, and ravenous greed, we will reclaim our best selves—our true selves—and our nation will at last be cured.”

The amphitheater is illuminated with not only strobing lightning but the flashbulbs of cameras. The journalists have arrived just in time.

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ollypopwrites · 1 month

Text

Dinner and Diatribes;

Gale x F!Tav (she/her, AFAB) [note: references to the fact Tav is Curvy but there’s no descriptors on her appearance besides what she’s wearing]

Summary: Gale gets his perfect night in Waterdeep.

Rating: M (18+ MDNI)

CW: smut (oral sex, PiV sex, fingering, slight overstim, references to Dom!Gale but he doesn’t actually make an appearance this time), insecurity, General Mystra Warning, L-bombs

Word count: 4.5k

Notes: this was originally written with my SorcBard Tav in mind. They end up together post-game and Tav and Gale have not been with each other physically as of yet.

Read on Ao3

Tav appraised her appearance one last time, nerves bubbling up in her when she knew there ought not to be any. She was having dinner with Gale, not a stranger.

Yet, she tugged at the lacy sleeves of her tunic, the cream colored fabric dangling off her shoulders and belling at the sleeves. Her breasts were up and out, figure tucked and smoothed by the sturdy corset she wore. The wrap skirt, slit at the leg with stockings underneath, was periwinkle, hugged her hips and showed some skin. She had wanted to veer away from the normally shapeless practicality of the protective gear she wore throughout their journey.

And she found the delicate pale blue embroidery against the white fabric of the garment to be quite pretty, the silk bows that served as sleeves made her think of romantic ballads. She felt delight at wearing something pretty without thinking of practicality for the first time since being taken by the nautiloid. There was a novelty to sitting down to take time to get ready for something fun rather than something that could potentially end with blood and death.

Her eyes drifted over to the corner of the room that until recently had housed a small altar to the Mother of Magic.

In its place was a vase of flowers, Tav’s favorite colors and blooms, which had appeared that morning. The altar itself had mysteriously disappeared the day after they first arrived in Waterdeep. Neither of them had said anything about it, but she knew he had seen her staring at the dusty offerings and long burnt incense laid at the feet of an idol of his former lover.

With one last look in the mirror she bolstered herself. She was no goddess but she had defeated a Vampire Lord, undead generals, a 200 year curse, hordes of goblins and a Netherbrain. That had to count for something.

Taking a deep breath she left through the bedroom door, and was met by Gale.

Well, Gale’s double. A projection, as he was often fond of using.

“Greetings! I am here on behalf of Gale of Waterdeep!”

“Oh, are you?” She asked sarcastically.

“I am indeed!”

Sarcasm was not translated into the projection it seemed.

“If you are ready for the evening to begin, please say so, if not, I shall await your confirmation.”

Tav smiled a little, “I’m ready.”

“Please follow me.”

She followed him down to the same level as the study, and she found herself confused. They were meant to be having dinner. The whole package, she had recalled, he wanted to wine and dine her. She expected to be escorted to the dining room, not the study.

The door was closed, and the projection gave a polite bow to signal its leave. Should she knock? Uncertain, she gripped the door handle and opened the door.

Immediately she was confronted with a wave of unfamiliar smells. Normally the study smelt like the fireplace, leather of bound books, ink and slight sea air from the terrace. Instead this smelled of savory food, crisp night air, and heavy sea spray. The entry was draped by lavish silk curtains hiding any view of the room, tassels and embroidered prints creating lovely textures.

Gale stood waiting for her arrival.

His hair was pulled back and pinned neatly in his new fashion of a small bun at the back of his head. He wore a white tunic, billowed sleeves and a jerkin of sapphire blue, embroidered intricately with bronze filigree. Dark blue breeches, and what looked to be blue shoes which matched his vest.

It also looked as if he had trimmed his beard, the lines smooth and incredibly sleek. Tav had certainly noticed how handsome he was during their travels, and even then he was always somewhat genteel despite the rugged conditions.

This was different. He seemed more in his element like this, maybe not quite so formally dressed, but she could imagine this was the Gale Dekarios which caught the eye of a Goddess. Confident, gentlemanly and remarkably good looking.

His eyes lit up at the sight of her.

“Hello,” she said, aware how nervous and jittery her voice was despite her smile.

“Hello,” Gale grinned. “You look… exquisite.”

She blushed. “And you look very good in blue.”

Gale kissed her cheek, and she gripped his face to make sure he kissed her properly. “I’ve prepared everything,” he said. “Are you ready?”

“For you? Always.”

Like a true gentleman, he offered her his arm and she accepted. They walked through the fabric barrier and Tav audibly gasped at the transformation. The study was changed, made to look like an enchanting garden. Lit up by candelabras, framed by arches made of vines and flowers of every color imaginable, it was beautiful.

The view from the terrace had been expanded, so that from every angle a clear view of the glittering lights of Waterdeep glinted. The entire mirage was topped with a star filled sky and the moon hanging at the horizon of the water. She could feel a breeze, not too cold but carrying the scent of the ocean.

A table sat at the center, intimate, and music was playing from some unseen source. Most likely the enchanted piano. Where she knew the terrace was, his couch still stood, overlooking the view. The sounds coming through beyond the music were real, she could tell. It was simultaneously an illusion and blissfully real.

He led her to the table, pulled out her chair for her and then sat across from her. The smile on her face was starting to hurt her cheeks, only emphasized by another Gale projection bringing them wine. They toasted each other and she looked out on the view of the city.

“Do you like it?” He sounded uncertain.

Her hand came out to grab his across the table. “It’s hard to describe, but like isn’t a strong enough word.” She glanced over to the projection of Gale waiting to be summoned for any need they may have, “although I think the waiter fancies me.”

“I applaud his taste.”

It was very clear how meticulously planned the night had been. From the food to the wine, Gale had an exuberant explanation for his choices. For a moment Tav wondered why she would be nervous at all; they had shared every meal together for months. But, Tav knew that this was the courtship he had wanted to offer her, this was the night he wished he could have given her when he thought it was his last back on the road to Moonrise.

Gale, if he was nervous, did not show it. Instead his eyes glinted with excitement, eagerness, and delight. His gaze was so intense on her, she felt like either the wine or something else was making her brain fuzzy.

After dinner they danced, slow uncomplicated movements to the music from the piano for a while, and then settled onto the settee looking out at the water. The night sky was clear, the breeze from the bay adding a bit of chill that balanced out the warmth she felt from the wine. It was a beautiful tapestry of midnight blue and silver of the moon and stars.

She leaned against him half draped over his lap as her legs stretched out, fingers dancing over his palm which lay in her lap. His other hand gently danced over her arm and down her side. She thought she may melt at the warmth of his lips pressed against her bare shoulder, beard softly scratching as he lingered there.

“You ought to be careful, Gale.”

“Oh? What dangers lurk that I am unaware of?”

“The danger of spoiling me rotten,” she chuckled.

“I’m not averse to such a risk,” he nuzzled behind her ear, “quite the opposite, really. You deserve it, and more.”

Her mind rolled over that, heart full at his earnestness as usual. Even if she didn��t believe it, he certainly did.

“Thank you,” she said thoughtfully after a moment. “This night has been so wonderful.”

“It’s not over yet,” he whispered.

A shiver ran down her spine. No words finding their way to her lips.

“If I may be so bold,” he went on, “I’d like to partake in dessert somewhere more private.”

“Tell me, Chef Dekarios, what is on the dessert menu tonight?”

“You,” he said, a grin evident in his voice. “I’d have laid you across the dinner table if I hadn’t promised us both a bed first and foremost. You truly are a temptress,” his hand broke from her loving grasp to run along the curve of her neck, and shoulder, fingers trailing over the tops of her breasts before cupping her chin, “you incite such an insatiable hunger, even when you are doing nothing more than sitting there across from me. If you’ll allow it, I’d like to finally have a taste.”

Tav’s head tipped back, eyes closed as her skin began to flush and her heart began to thud in her chest. “I’ll allow anything you want,” she breathed. “Name it, it’s yours.”

“Tav,” he murmured.

“Yours.” She repeated.

A tug in her stomach and the strange shift of moving through the weave happened so suddenly, she opened her eyes, confused by her new surroundings. She was on her feet, Gale behind her still, but in the bedroom, no longer shrouded by lovely blue night sky but the warmth of a candle lit room and the familiar walls.

Gale murmured something, and then spun her around to kiss her. Needy, fervent meetings of lips, and tongues. Her fists curled into the fabric of his sleeves, and his settled on either side of her face. She felt a tugging at her back, then the cool brush of an unseen hand. He had conjured a mage hand to untie her corset, the fingers pulling at the strings to loosen them.

Before it managed to get them all the way undone, she was fumbling with buttons on his vest. She shrugged the heavy corset off, the thud of it falling to the ground ignored as she pushed his own garment off his shoulders. Before he could distract her with his hands again, she untucked his shirt and pulled the fabric over his head.

Her fingers danced over his warm skin, feeling hair and scars and firm muscle beneath flesh. Gale groaned, bending to grip her by the generous flesh of her thighs to pull her up in his arms, for the quick journey to the bed where he set her down. Her tunic was tugged off, thrown aside and he grunted in displeasure at the thin cloth bandeau that still covered her breasts.

Tav chuckled, grabbing the scrap of fabric and pulling it overhead. Gale’s eyebrows hiked up at the sight of her tits out, heavy and round with already pebbled nipples, and under the scrutiny she felt doubt creep in.

“Not what you were hoping for?” It was half a joke, a deflection for the blush she knew was on her face, something to do besides wrap her arms around herself.

“Are you completely mad?” He finally met her eyes, looking offended. “May I?”

She nodded, only to be firmly guided onto her back as Gale put one knee between her thighs on the bed and leaned forward.

His hands grabbed, not fully able to grasp, even with hands larger than her own. “Soft,” he thought out loud to himself. “How are you so soft?”

“I-I don't know,” she hitched a breathy tone. “Ah, gentle please,” she gasped when he began pinching and rolling the peaks between his fingers, calloused fingers from years of spell work and a combined over-excited pinch both thrilling and overstimulating, “they’re very sensitive.”

“Very important information,” he murmured, running a thumb over one in a soothing motion that still made her gasp out loud. “I wonder…”

The thought trailed off as his mouth clasped around one nipple and Tav gave an undignified squeal as her hips rolled. Too many layers between her skirt and underclothes to provide her the relief she wanted, even with his knee between her thighs. Each brush of his finger over one, followed by a firm squeeze, made her twitch and the laving of his tongue had her letting out soft little moans.

Finally he pulled away, watching as his hands continued where he left off. One hand danced over her soft stomach, and slipped down towards the waistband of her skirt, tickling the skin there until she gasped a laugh. He pushed down her stockings, tugged her skirt off and looked one last time for approval before he slipped her under things down her legs.

For a moment, his eyes darted over her body. Despite the thrill of being at the center of such avid admiration, she felt the need to do something in the face of it. A conflicting moment of uncertainty, the apprehension of him seeing any flaw in her moving her to try distract him. Her fingers came up to grab, but he gently redirected her wrist to his lips.

“You are perfect beyond imagining,” he said.

“You’re a flatterer,” she breathed, her eyes avoiding his, as they trailed over his torso and to the bulge in his breeches.

“I reject that accusation,” he said, grabbing a pillow and tossing it onto the floor before he got to his knees upon it. “I’m an admirer of art.”

Tav rolled her eyes with a half laugh as she allowed her legs to be spread, heels set on the edge of the bed. He kissed each one as he set them where he wanted, beard scratching and tongue peaking out to taste.

She was a little in awe of him like this. His eyes dark, a slight smirk painted onto his face, softened only when he met her eyes and smiled at her. With his broad shoulders forcing her legs wider as he moved further between them, and his hair coming out of his once immaculate bun, she felt her throat run dry and a heat rush through her body as she admired him.

He stopped suddenly, and she met his look of intentional seriousness. “If you need me to stop,” he said, “say the word and we will.”

She nodded her head.

He kissed the inside of her thigh again, before his eyes slid down his hands massaging around her outer lips. She was wet, it had smeared her thighs, that she already knew. A gentle gasp pulled from her lungs as he took his time, rubbing and spreading her, the same look of deep focus on his face as when he was taken with an interesting tome.

Gale rubbed along the seam of her, before spreading her open and gently rubbing her clit. A choked sound emitted from her after he commented, “you’re soaked, my love.”

“All your doing, beloved,” she replied.

“I do love hearing that,” he grinned. “You’ll have to tell me what else I do to you.”

Any response died away when he licked a long stripe along her. The slightest groan came from him, and he began to work. It was agonizing heaven, the filthy sounds as he sucked and licked at her cunt and the way he gripped her thighs only enhancing the actual sensation of his mouth on her.

Half-formed thoughts kept slipping out of her mouth until only single words and whines were all she could muster. Her hands slid over his, and he laced them together, his efforts doubling after the gesture of affection. Her excitement was running so high, anticipation adding to arousal, that she knew she would not last long.

“Gale,” she breathed, “feels so good — so close —“

He never pulled away, just found what was making her legs writhe over his shoulders the most, what made her hips search for friction, and her breath spike. Her hands gripped his so both of them had a firm grip of her thighs, as she suddenly teetered over the edge, heavy waves of pleasure singing in her veins as he licked her through it.

Except once it passed, he did not pull away. It felt good, so she was not going to push him off, but she was sensitive. Each touch of his tongue on her clit felt like a shock through her whole being making her legs clamp around him. He let go of her hands and pushed her thighs apart again, she thought that alone had her ready to fall apart once more.

Relentless and yet somehow still controlled, he was singularly intent on making her come again. The sensation almost scared her as she greedily chanted for more, more, more in her head and maybe aloud, she couldn’t be sure. Gale was groaning into her, the firmness of his grip surprising her still. She wanted him inside of her.

“Please“ she started to beg, “fuck me.”

He gave a moan, the only time she felt him falter. “One more, my love,” he replied. A demand or a promise, maybe both. “Give me one more.”

He let his fingers work over her this time, still between her legs, watching each movement she made. For her credit, she kept her hips and legs from knocking him away, the rest of her body making up for it. Her back arched, she writhed and gripped the bedding beneath her like it was going to anchor her.

When Gale slipped a finger inside of her, easy enough that he tried a second, she went stiff. “Good?”

She nodded her head.

“Words, please, Tav,” he said gently. It occurred to her he may be asking after her wellbeing rather than to tease.

Either way, she loved the feeling in her brain at the idea of it being a demand. Of him tormenting her in the most beautiful way.

“Good!” She blurted out. “So fucking good.”

His mouth had expertly pulled her apart, but she was finding his fingers to be just as talented. She clamped down around the digits pushing in her as she felt herself falling to pieces.

“Yes,” he breathed. “Good, Tav…” when she opened her eyes, she was met with him staring at hers. As if he could read her mind, he went on talking, “come undone for me.”

Her whole being responded to the request, as if he had the ability to command her body with just a word. She writhed and rolled her hips as she came, a truly unrestrained string of cries that she knew were a bit too loud. Gale’s hand cupped her cunt, and she could feel the pulse of it against his hand — his face giving way to pure want as he moaned.

“Alright?” He asked after a moment.

“Would be better if I had you inside of me,”she teased, giddily.

“Minx,” he grumbled, coming to stand.

“Tease,”she shot back sitting up.

When she kissed him he tasted distinctly of her arousal, and somehow it made her heart skip a beat. Her tongue danced over his, hand trailing down his chest to the waistband of his breeches, untying as she went. Her hands slipped inside, grasping through his underclothes at the length of his cock, hard and tenting the fabric.

Gale gave a sinful groan, eyes shut tight and when she started to stroke his jaw went slack.

Tav chuckled, “feel good, my darling?”

“Too good,” he grunted, hand gripping her wrist tight. “It’s been… far too long since I’ve — erm, partaken in pleasure on this plane, so to speak.”

Tav frowned, contemplating that, her eyes drifting to the space where Mystra’s altar had once been then back to him. “That’s okay,” she said immediately. “I don’t care.”

“You might,” he replied, wry smile masking what she knew to be embarrassment creeping up on him, “when the night ends rather, prematurely.”

Tav shrugged. “Then we drink some wine and wait until you’re up to more,” she said casually tugging off the rest of his clothes. “I didn’t wait all this time to have you just once tonight anyway.”

Gale licked his lips, eyebrows twitching up in interest.

She tugged at his wrist, “lay back,” she guided him onto the bed, pushing him to sit with his back against the headboard. “We can go slow.”

Gale got comfortable, hands grabbing at her hips when she settled in his lap. Her fingers danced over the orbs mark, raised like a scar but looking almost inked in like a tattoo. The fervor had stalled just slightly, his cock still hard between them but no longer pulsing as it had in her hand.

“What would our friends say if they knew what you were hiding under those robes,” she mused, arms curling over his broad shoulders.

“I rather think I held my own on our intrepid journeys,” he said, sounding more like himself. “Aside from the creaky knees.”

“That you did,” she agreed. “I would have been lost without you.”

She kissed him, slowly and affectionately, as she lifted herself a bit. Her fingers danced down his body again, taking their time to admire the sturdiness he hid under his wizard robes day to day.

Finger nails scratched through the hair that trailed down his torso, and into the thicker patch between his legs. She gripped him again, and he moaned into her mouth, the kiss matching his needy grasp on the flesh of her hips.

Unable to help herself from teasing, she dragged the head of him through her folds, letting him feel how wet she was for him. His brow furrowed harshly.

As she lined him up and slowly sank down, she was torn between watching every minuscule change in his expression and closing her eyes to relish the perfect fit. He stopped kissing her, the shuddering breath he drew and the way his eyes started to roll back giving her that much more satisfaction.

Her own gasp filled the soundless space between them, walls fluttering at the intrusion. “Gods, you feel so good,” she whined.

Gale was speechless. Voice stolen by deep concentration, and then his eyes opened. For a singular moment Tav felt as if she was the only other person in the world, the pure look of awe and combined sharp focus of his attention made her feel ten feet tall.

How could anyone, goddess or not, take his sincere devotion for granted?

“Do you want me to move?”

“Not yet,” he whispered desperately. “Just — please, let me —“

He pulled her to him, bodies pressing at almost every point. His arms were a tight wrap around her, his cheek pressed against her forehead as she gave him gentle kisses along his neck. It felt not dissonant to their time in the astral, joined in every way, but this felt somehow more intimate. To hold him within her, and still have him hold her safely in his arms — a perfect balance she could hardly fathom.

“Kiss me,” Gale breathed. “Please.”

Tav did as asked, fingers tangled in his hair and very gently rocked her hips. He groaned, grip becoming bruising, pausing the kiss and then coming back to it again. Slowly she started to rock, then raise her hips and roll them forward until she was slowly bouncing, the slap of her skin meeting his filling the room.

Gale broke from the kiss, hands moving to the sides of her face. That same look, as if he had seen something beyond his wildest imaginings; focused, stunned and reverent. She never felt so loved in her life, she was certain.

As if she could will the same feeling into him, she pressed their foreheads together. She moaned, as he hit just right within her. Sensitive, eager and greedy she chased the sensation.

“I love you,” she gasped.

His expression crumpled, and he groaned grabbing her around the waist so she had to stop. She could feel his cock throbbing inside of her. “You are… you — I love you —“ he grunted. “Please, let me — feel you.”

She slowed her movements to a subtle rock, which rubbed against something in her that made her entire body seize up in intense sensation. He murmured affirmations to her, face buried in her hair, his hand grabbing at her ass to pull her back and forth.

“I have to feel it,” he said, need dripping from his tone, “buried in you, I must —“

Her mouth left sloppy kisses wherever she could leave them as she rutted against him. As another sweet peak approached she leaned back, bouncing just slightly to get what she needed. Gale’s eyes flicked down to her chest, to where they were joined, and back to her face. Her body started to pulse, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

It felt so good. The drag of him against her walls, the blunt intrusion as she rolled her hips. Whines fell from her lips, she closed her eyes to focus in on the sensation, head thrown back in ecstasy.

As she peaked her legs shook on either side of him, hips moving out of pure instinct for more as she felt herself tighten around him. Uncontrollable pulses, grabbing and sucking him as far as she could talk him and a gush of wetness that added deliciously lewd sounds.

Gale seemed to stop breathing for a moment, before something in him snapped. He grabbed her hips, and with bent knees and feet planted on the soft sheets began fucking up into her.

More ruthless than she had expected, desperate and selfish and needy. It was nearly enough to get her to the edge again. Grunts from somewhere in the back of his throat joined her shocked cries telling him ‘yes’ over and over again.

He watched as he disappeared inside of her, mouth open as he panted, and then finally he broke.

With a swiftness she didn’t expect he pulled out of her, but his arms came around in a caging embrace so he still rubbed against her wet folds. He whined, as his hips jerked without any sort of pattern, punctuated by the hot splashes of him coming. Sticky, wet and warm.

His body shuddered as it passed, but he did not let go of her as he caught his breath. When she lifted her head to look at him, his head was tilted back and eyes closed as he recovered. She kissed his cheek, and he opened one eye to look at her, a smile blooming on his lips.

“You’ve ruined me,” he muttered.

“And you enjoyed every moment.”

“‘Enjoyed.’” He repeated. “Very light way to put it.”

“Then how would you describe it?”

“Hm,” he breathed. “Having trouble thinking currently. I will get back to you.”

“Now that’s a real accomplishment,” Tav laughed. “I’ve rendered Gale of Waterdeep utterly speechless.”

He laughed, one eye peeking open again before he playfully kissed her on the cheek. As she nestled back into his arms, she knew they would have to break away soon to clean up the mess they had made. But for just a moment she cherished the sound of his heartbeat, calming down and steadying with his breath.

“The first of a thousand nights.” He murmured.

“Hopefully more.”

“I’ll have the rest of your nights, if you’ll allow it.”

“They’re yours.”

Thank you for reading! 💜

#bg3 fanfiction #baldur’s gate 3 fanfiction #gale x tav #gale dekarios x tav #gale of Waterdeep x Tav #bg3 gale fic #gale smut #gale fanfic

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oracle-of-dream · 4 months

Text

Your Admirer

Minors DNI

Summary: Recently, you've been receiving gifts left at the door of your apartment. From a secret admirer. You're too busy trying to guess who's gotten a small crush to notice how mad he is for you, and there's no telling how far he'll go to get to you.

Warnings: Stalking, Manipulation, Use of Aphrodisiacs, Unprotected Sex, Stomach Bulge, Breeding, Mention of Pregnancy, Daddy Kink, Size Kink

Wordcount: 4.4k

You woke up with the sunlight peeking from behind your curtain as the wind coming in from the window blew them open. Slowly, you managed to find the strength to roll out of bed and shut the window. You don’t remember opening the window, but it was weirdly hot while you slept so you figured that you must’ve gotten up in the middle of the night to open it. You swiped your phone off the charger and walked into your bathroom to brush your teeth and wash your face off. After wiping your face, you checked the time. The clock said 9:30 am. It was another workday, so you needed to get moving before you were late. You only worked every other day, so you were able to spend most days at home. But Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays you had to come into the office to check in with your boss for the projects for the week to get finished on time. You put on your outfit for the day. Another perk of the job was the lack of strict work uniforms. You put on dark denim jeans, a sleeveless white shirt, with moon earrings, and a YXL chain to go around your waist. You couldn’t afford YXL products on your salary, but it was just another gift you’d gotten from someone who’s been leaving you gifts at work.

The gifts would get delivered a bunch of different ways, so you were never able to find out who was the one sending them. First, it was flowers delivered to the office, then your favorite snacks and the most recent was the YXL chain. Each gift came with a handwritten letter, which you kept. You thought it was sweet that someone was so interested in you to try and get your attention in some way, but you wanted to find out who it was. None of your coworkers were your type, but it had to be someone there who knew which floor you worked on, right?

Your alarm to head out went off, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You rushed out the door of your apartment to catch the bus to take you further downtown. The bus was always a little early, so you managed to get the timing to arrive just when it did so you could get the perfect seat. You set your bag down in the seat next to you, waiting for your friend to get there. But he always was one of the last people to get on the bus, so you scrolled through TikTok while waiting for him.

“Hey Y/n, good morning!”

You heard his voice, which made you look up from your phone. “Soobin! Good morning!”

You met Soobin a little after you moved into this part of town a few months ago. He was nice to you, so the two of you got pretty close easily. Soobin was wearing a black and white flannel, a black undershirt, blue jeans, and black glasses. His hair was messy like he was rushing to get to the bus.

“Running to catch the bus again?”

“Yeah, I woke up late again,” Soobin laughed. He sat down next to you, holding your bag for you as he messed with his hair. That’s when he clocked your new chain belt. “Whoa! I didn’t know you had money like YXL, why don’t you take a limo to work?”

You punched his arm playfully as he teased you. “I didn’t buy it! It was him again.”

Soobin rubbed his arm where you punched him. “So you don’t know who this guy is?”

You shook your head.

“Are you sure it’s someone from your job?”

“Well, of course. Only my coworkers know which floor of my job I work in. You need a keycard to get up to the 5th floor where our offices are. None of the other businesses use our floor, the only other people I could think of are like… janitors.”

Soobin chuckled. “Hey, maybe he IS a janitor! Don’t break his heart.”

“Well, if a janitor can afford YXL gifts for his crush. Then I think I at least owe him dinner.”

“Dinner?” Soobin’s eyes widened. “I didn’t think you’d be okay dating a janitor.”

“A rich janitor!? Why not? I don’t mind being a house-husband. I’ll cook and clean at home like the perfect spouse.”

Soobin laughed even harder. “I think you’d be pretty sure in a little maid costume, waiting for your husband to come home.”

The two of you cracked a few more jokes before the stop where you needed to get off arrived. The both of you stepped off the bus and parted ways. Soobin worked at a cafe a few blocks down from your office building, but he always insisted on walking with you before walking in the opposite direction to his job.

“Okay, Soobie, I’ll see you around lunch.” You waved as you walked into the building.

Soobin waved back, waiting until you were in the building before heading back the way he came.

Work was just a bunch of boring service meetings, going over goals for the next few weeks. But you couldn’t focus as you kept staring at the clock. It was always a little before your lunch break at 12:30 pm that someone would come by and drop off the gifts from your admirer. You nearly fell out of your chair when you saw the parcel delivery man walking into the 5th floor.

You stopped him as he got to the door of your offices.

“Hi there! Anything for me today?” You asked politely.

The man looked through the boxes he had, “No, sorry. I don’t see anything.”

Your shoulders dropped at the thought that you didn’t get another gift. Maybe you’re admirer found someone else they’re interested in… But at least you could go on lunch break.

You thanked the delivery man and went back to your desk to collect your things before leaving. You looked in your desk drawer at the letters you’d received from him. You looked at each, comparing them. The color of the card was your favorite color and it smelled sweet like roses. On a whim, you took them with you as you left your office. You left the building and walked a few blocks to get to Soobin’s cafe.

Soobin winked at you as you walked in. “Hi, Welcome in!”

You smiled at him as you found an empty table. You set your things down and looked at the cards again. The handwriting all looked the same, even like it was written with the same pen.

Soobin came over to you with a plate a sandwich and a warm cup of tea. “The usual for ya.”

“You know me so well…” You put the card down and took a bite of your sandwich.

“Well. You get the same thing every time you come here.” Soobin stuck his tongue out at you.

You didn’t notice as you were reading the card again. “Of course, I do because you’re the one who recommended it to me. And it turned out so good!”

“What’s this?”

“One of the cards he left me. The one that came with the flowers.”

The cards were nearly written, clean, and smelled good. Sometimes at work, you catch yourself wanting to just smell the card again. You didn’t know the scent, but it was something that made your body warm and fuzzy.

Dear Y/n,

The sweet flower that I’ve watched from afar. I hope this comes to you as warmly as you did into my life. I fell for you the moment I saw you and when you speak, I can only hear a symphony of your voice. My thoughts about you are truly impure, but as a man of honor and respect, I hope that earn your affection in your heart, mind, and body with my gift. And expect more from me.

Your new admirer.

Soobin read it. “I didn’t know that you were into this kind of stuff.”

You shrugged. “I don’t know if I am, but I know that I don’t hate it. It’s really sweet! But I also want to be able to see the person and know about them, instead of them just knowing about me.”

“You want them to show themself?”

You nodded. “Of course! How am I supposed to know if I like them back?”

“What if it's someone you’re not expecting? You said it’s a coworker, so what if it’s someone you’re close with as friends?” Soobin’s voice was soft and deep, with his face spelling concern.

You pat him on the shoulder. “Why do you look so worried? I’m sure it’ll be fine. I’m open to meeting people, even if it's someone I know. Because it seems like we’ve spoken to each other at least once according to this. I just want to give him an honest chance. And…”

“And?”

You shift nervously in your seat. “I’m kinda interested in this whole, impure thoughts thing. It’s kinda hot…”

Your last sentence hung in the air between the two of you. It somehow felt like the whole room got a little quieter.

You struggled to find your words. “That was a little…”

“Out of pocket? Yeah. But, it's cool, I’m glad you’re into this guy. He’s lucky. So tell me how it goes if you get the chance to meet him.”

You nodded. “Yeah totally! I’d call you asap.”

“I don’t have your number…”

You cocked your head to the side. “How did that happen?” You reached into your bag, but couldn’t find your phone. “I think I left my phone at work, let me borrow yours, and I’ll give you my number.”

“I can’t, it’s not one me.” Soobin pulled out a napkin and pen from his apron and scribbled his number neatly on the napkin. “Here’s my number, you can text me when you get back to the office.”

You took the napkin and carefully tucked it away in your bag.

You finished your food as Soobin went back to work, he occasionally would stop near you to chat for a bit before going back to his job. After finishing, you left a tip in the jar since Soobin never let you pay for your meals. Then you headed back to the office.

You finished the rest of your workday and while packing your bag to head home you remembered Soobin’s number. You put the napkin on your desk while you looked for your phone, which somehow ended up in the drawer where you kept the other cards. You put the cards on your desk and added Soobin’s number to your phone. Naming him Soobie on your phone, you shoot him a text to give him your number.

“Yo, Soobie, I got the number. I’ll be over to pick you up real soon.”

You packed everything else on your desk and tossed it in your bag to hurry out the door to get the Soobin’s cafe before the bus started to get there.

You walked into the cafe to see a different barista working. He smiled at you as you walked up to his counter.

“What can I get for you?”

“Oh, I’m not here for food–I’m looking for Soobin.”

The barista nodded in understanding. “He said he had to be somewhere, so he left early today. A little after 1ish.”

You pulled out your phone to text him, “Hey, is everything alright? You’re not at work, so I’m just going to head home. Let me know if you need anything.”

You thanked the barista and walked about out the door, heading to the bus stop. It felt strange to go home alone again, like how it had been when you had first moved into town. Like you were alone but somehow someone was always looking at you. Even when you couldn’t see anyone looking, you could just feel the eyes watching you… But when Soobin started going with you, the feeling would be gone. His presence was nice to have around and protected you from whoever was out there…

You ride the bus back home, alone and in silence. The feeling makes your skin itch a little. You tried to distract yourself from the feeling by reading the letters again. Your head was foggy, your hands were damp, your body felt warm, and you realized your heart was racing. You somehow popped an awkward boner that you had to use your bag to hide. You got off at your stop, the bag still covering your bulge as you walked quickly to your apartment building.

When you got to the door, there was a small bag at your doorstep. You looked around before picking it up. It smelled like roses and candy. It was a gift from him? But how did he know where you lived?

You looked around with a little bit of panic as you put in your door pin code and unlocked the door. You slipped inside quickly and locked the door behind you. You were home but didn't feel safe. Your mind was racing at the thought of someone following you home, the worst possible scenarios playing in your head. The sound of you getting a text broke your train of thought.

It was a text from Soobin!

Soobie: Hey, sorry y/n! I had to take care of some stuff, did you get home alright?

y/n: Soobin!! This is crazy, and I’m freaking out! The admirer guy left a gift outside of my apartment!

Soobie: That’s crazy! Did you see anyone near your house?

y/n: No, I didn’t see anyone. But I think I’m gonna lose it. And my head isn’t right.

Soobie: Is there something I can do?

Soobie: Do you need someone?

y/n: I think I do… Can you come over?

Soobie: Yeah, of course. I’ll bring some medicine for your head too.”

y/n: Thanks Bin, I’ll send you address.

After a few minutes, there was a knock at the door. You looked at the peephole to make sure it was him before letting Soobin in the door. You hugged him as soon as the door was locked behind him.

“Jeez, y/n. I didn’t think you’d get spooked so easily.” Soobin hugged you gently.

“It’s just weird!”

“Did this gift come with a letter?”

You nodded.

“You haven’t read it?”

You shook your head. “I’ve been too scared.”

Soobin patted your head. “That’s okay, let’s give you that medicine I brought.” Soobin gave you two blue pills and walked into the kitchen. He pulled a glass from the cabinet and filled it with water from your filter in the fridge.

You sat on the couch while he was in the kitchen, filling your glass of water. The letters were scattered on the coffee table in front of you with the unopened one waiting patiently for you.

“Soobin.”

“Yea?”

“I think I wanna open it since you’re here now.”

“Let’s give you this medicine first…”

You waited for Soobin to come back with water and he brought a coaster with him for the water to sit on the coffee table. You swallowed the pills and a big gulp of water.

“How much for pills?”

“Don’t worry about it, I was going to buy them anyway.”

You nodded. “O-Oh okay.”

Soobin sat next to you on the couch, letting his body lean into yours. “You sure you wanna open it now? Or do you wanna wait?”

“I’m gonna do it now.” You snatched the bag off the table and looked inside the gift bag. It was a pack of King-size condoms!? And a letter. You tossed the condoms away and read the letter.

Dear y/n,

I know I’ve probably given you quite the scare with this gift, but I want you to know how much you mean to me and I wanted to know how you feel about me. I know I can never enter your home by forcing my way in, as I’d never forgive myself either. I knew that I’d only be okay being intimate with you, in your home, if you invited me over. I hope you understand me…

Your Admirer.

You could hear your heart in your ears. “Soobin…”

“Yeah?”

“You’ll be honest with me, yeah?”

“Always.”

“How did you know where I kept my coasters in my house?”

Soobin didn’t answer…

“Soobin!”

“I…” Soobin started but couldn’t find the right words. “Please understand me–” Soobin moved toward you, but you flinched away from him.

“Are you my admirer!?”

“I am,” Soobin said without blinking. His eyes were full and his expression was one you couldn’t understand. “Please try to get why I did all this. You said you’d give me a chance anyway, so please let me have this.”

“How long have you been following me?”

“Please don’t–”

“Answer me!”

Soobin sighed. “About two months. I’ve been in love with you since I first saw you but I couldn’t find a good way to tell you. But when you started taking the bus, we ended up talking and getting close. I tried to give you hints. I wanted things to be different…” Soobin leaned in to kiss you, his hand slipping to the back of your neck to keep you from running.

As your lips met, you could smell Soobin. Roses and sweet candy, just like the cards. You pushed away from him, but his grip on your next was like metal with his other hand snaking around your waist. He finally let you go so he could breathe.

Your body was warm, and you were so hard it was impossible to hide it.

“The medicine’s working now too. It’s faster than I thought…” Soobin muttered.

You felt like you’d been slapped. “Did you drug me?”

“Yeah, I did, baby. But it was just to get you in the mood, I’ll take care of everything else. I’ll take care of you, baby.” Soobin pulled you in for another kiss, catching your mouth open just a crack to force his tongue into your mouth.

You tried to fight the feeling, but your brain was starting to numb out and you felt yourself giving into the kiss, pulling Soobin into you as you laid back on the couch. Your hand moved to his cheek, continuing the make-out session. You were in charge, exploring the dark-haired boy’s mouth as the kiss started getting wetter. You broke the kiss, the two of your foreheads rutting against each other.

“This isn’t right, you tricked me.”

“Only cuz I love you. Please, just let go. Let me do the rest…” Soobin moved his hips, rutting into your crotch to show you he was as hard as you were. Soobin moved to your jaw, kissing down your neck as his hands started to slip your shirt off.

You started sobbing as Soobin started to explore your torso.

“Shh baby, there’s no reason to cry. I know you love me, just as much as I love you. I can feel it right here,” Soobin said as he started to suck one of your nipples. You squirmed and shook at how good it felt. “See? You like this!”

“Soobin.”

“Yes, love?”

“It’s my first time…”

Soobin stopped in his tracks. “Really? You’re a virgin?”

You nodded slowly, tears running down your face. “I do like you, but this isn’t how I wanted things. This isn’t right.”

Soobin moved back up to your face, cupping it with both his hands. “I’m so sorry baby. I wasn’t considerate, was I?” Soobin kissed the tears on your face, tasting their saltiness. “I’m sorry, baby. I really am, can you forgive me? Daddy’s really sorry.”

You cried more, your body shaking like a leaf in his hands.

“Daddy promises he’ll take care of you. Forever, and whatever you want, you can have. Just promise to be my baby. I promise I’ll never do something like this again…”

You covered your face, wiping your face.

“No, no, let me see you. Please, baby. Let me look in your eyes to show you how much I mean it.”

Soobin lifts you up, sitting you on his lap and holding you close to him. His large hands take yours and he looks deep into your eyes. “I’m sorry Daddy used tricks to get you, baby. If you forgive me, I’ll make you feel so good. I’ll buy you anything. And I’ll make sure I take care of you, always. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

You didn’t know if it was the pills or Soobin’s look, but your heart melted at his eyes looking into yours. Your crying slowed to hiccuping and sobbing.

“There you are.” Soobin hugged you tighter. “I’ll do it right this time. Do you want to continue, baby?”

You couldn’t fight it. The way “baby” rolled off his lips did something to you. You gave in and nodded slowly. “Please, keep going…”

Soobin’s smile was bright and kind. He stripped off his shirt, and pulled you more onto his pelvis, letting you feel his cock under you. “You’re body is doing this to me. Do you feel it?” Soobin slowly shifted his hips up into you, making sure to poke you with his dick.

You nodded.

“Daddy’s gonna put that in you.”

You shivered at his words.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you…” Soobin laid you on your stomach and slid your pants off you.

You heard a box opening and some clothes shuffling. You get impatient and turn over onto your back to see Soobin naked, you looked down to see his intimidating cock. The tip was swollen and red, begging to enter you while precum was leaking down the veins of it. Soobin was holding the box of condoms with one of them in his mouth.

“Am I making you wait too long, baby?” He looked down. “Don’t be scared, I’ll be easy with you.” Soobin brought out lube from his bag and coats his cock. “I’m guessing you’re not prepared, but I think I can handle that easily.” Soobin started coating two of his long fingers.

You took the bottle from him. “I can do it myself.” You sat up, but Soobin held you down.

“Nope. I’m taking care of you, so no extra work from you.” He smiled evilly before kissing you again. While distracted he slipped his fingers in together.

Your eyes rolled in your skull. “Holy–”

“See? Isn’t it better when I do it?” Soobin swirled and stretched you with speed and ease, making you squirm under him while he held you down. But Soobin smiled more when you suddenly screamed in pleasure, telling him he found what he was looking for. “Say it.”

You looked at him with confusion. “Say what.”

“Call me, Daddy, baby. I just wanna hear you say it.” Soobin hit the spot again.

“Oh, god. Please, again.”

“Again, what?” Soobin started thrusting his fingers but avoided hitting your spot again.

“Please Daddy, I–” As soon as the word left your lips, Soobin took his fingers out and put his tip at your hole.

“Oh, I’ll hit it again and again. So hold on.”

You wrap your arms around his neck and brace for him, trying to stay as loose as possible for him. And even with Soobin’s masterful prep, he was still stretching your walls. Soobin’s scent filled your lungs as he started to push into you, holding your body to his. The sweat made your bodies stick together. Your face streamed more tears and your eyes started to get hazy as Soobin kissed you through the pain.

“I know you can do it. Come one, for Daddy.” Soobin whispered in your ears as he kept pushing deeper.

Soobin hit your spot and you came on the spot. “Please s-stop! Please! Don’t move anymore…”

Soobin froze, trying his best. His groans of restraint as his cock is almost in you completely. “You’re so tight–and somehow still squeezing more…” Soobin was looking into your eyes, waiting for you to let him move again. He could’ve cum from the sensation right there, but he wanted it all. He needed it. He tried to move a little deeper, but you hissed in complaint.

“Please! Don’t do anything, I need to… calm down.” You almost mewled as you were drooling from the sensations.

Soobin was biting his lip, trying to keep himself in control, but seeing you like this was difficult. Surely you could take him, all the way? Even though it was your first time… He was sure he could make it fit.

You were taking deep breaths, slow ones. But suddenly flinched when Soobin flexed his dick. “Just… do it.”

“What was that?” Soobin, struggling to hold back, said playfully.

“You can fuck me, just do it…” You had your eyes shut, trying to focus again.

“You gotta say it right.”

You peeled one eye open to look at him. You could tell he was trying to hold it together too. So you pushed yourself deeper using the couch for leverage. You were slow… you needed him to do it. You couldn’t even make it an extra inch before you couldn’t go any further…

“Daddy… please fuck me…” You said in defeat.

Soobin’s brain snapped at “Daddy”, as he lifted one of your legs. “Try not to wake the neighbors,” Soobin said before pushing in the rest of his length.

Your head flew back with your eyes wide open. You had used toys before, but nothing touched so deeply as Soobin did. You looked at your stomach and saw a slight bulge in your stomach. You watched as the bulge moved and pulsed as Soobin started slowly moving, fucking slow but deep. It was enough to make you scream like a lunatic.

By the end of it, you knew you had come at least two more times before you heard Soobin whisper. “Oh, it’s cumming.”

You could feel Soobin’s hot cum shooting into you. Soobin broke the condom and was pouring cum directly into you. Pump after pump.

“Oh please, get pregnant for me. Be my housewife forever. Our little babies will be so cute.” Soobin moved as he fucked you through his orgasm.

If you could, you definitely would’ve been pregnant…

You don’t remember much after Soobin finished. You passed out from exhaustion shortly after. But you woke up the next morning in bed with new pajamas and Soobin sleeping next to you.

#oracle of dreams #soobin x male reader #soobin x reader #soobin smut #choi soobin #txt x reader #txt fanfic #txt smut #kpop x male reader #kpop x male reader smut

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cntloup · 3 months

Text

We'll meet again

Fem!Reader slight angst, fluff, pregnancy

You saunter around on the warm hardwood floor, spinning softly to the sound of the music emitting from the record player.

We'll meet again, Don't know where, Don't know when, But I know we'll meet again some sunny day

The sun shines through the white curtains, filling the room with its golden light and warmth, creating a cozy atmosphere. You hold the daisies that you picked from the garden this morning in one hand and put the other one on your 6-month-pregnant belly, rubbing gently as you let out a sigh and try not to think about it. You begin humming the tune while putting the flowers in a vase.

Keep smiling through, Just like you always do, 'Til the blue skies chase those dark clouds far away

You continue moving delicately feeling the light ridges and grooves against your bare feet, completely unaware of the presence of your husband who’s leaning against the doorway, watching you with pure love and adoration in his eyes. As soon as your eyes land on him mid-spin, a loud gasp leaves your mouth “Si!”. He makes his way towards you with a faint smile on his scarred lips, cups your face gently in his hands and captures your lips in a passionate yet tender kiss without hesitation. It's bittersweet, full of love, yearning and pleas of 'be careful' and 'come back' as he's about to leave for a two-month deployment. One of his hands starts moving downwards to your lower back, softly caressing the skin of your neck and brushing faintly against your shoulder on its way, lips moving smoothly against yours until you’re both out of breath. You slowly pull away, staring into each other’s eyes adoringly for a while. He presses his lips to your forehead then gets down on his knees to place a loving kiss on your belly and rests his forehead there for a moment. Tears start to form in your eyes. He stands on his feet, wipes the tears that rolled down your cheeks, "I will come back, lovie. I promise." he mutters as he kisses your tear-stained cheeks and places his hands on your hips and rests his chin on your shoulder. You both start swaying and humming the song together.

And I will just say hello, To the folks that you know, Tell them you won't be long, They'll be happy to know, That as I saw you go, You were singing this song

comments/reblogs are greatly appreciated ♥

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bunnylovesani · 5 months

Text

The Bratty Belle

Chapter 1

Summary: You’ve just moved to the city and want to get to know your new neighbours. One very snarky and very handsome one in particular presents you with a challenge.

WC: 2k

After spending all day unpacking, you finally sat down to observe your new surroundings: you’d kept most of your old furniture, like the vanity table perched in the corner along with your beloved princess bed- complete with an intricately carved wooden headboard. The room was pleasantly familiar beside the new addition of white chiffon curtains that hung around your bed, shrouding you in a comforting cocoon. You let out a dreamy sigh, fiddling with the numerous pillows and plushies littered all over your plush bedding. You might be old enough to move to the big city and have your own condo, but you’ll still cuddle your tatty old teddy to sleep.

Peering out the window, you observe the neighbouring houses strewn along the street opposite, a green meadow separating the complexes. Most of them had a door and mailbox per floor, signifying that a different person resided on each of the levels. The same could not be said, however, for the last house at the very end of the street, which stood detached and boasted a single entryway. It was the only house you could see into being that it was directly opposite yours- unlike the other condos, which joined together in rows a little further up the road. You’d only moved in 2 days ago but noticed that the blinds were shut and the lights always remained off. Maybe no one lived there?

As a reward for your gruelling work unpacking, you took some candy along with your sketchpad and headed out to the field outside your new home. Deciding against another layer over your pink mini dress, you grabbed a picnic blanket and staked out the perfect spot - cosy and tucked away so that the neighbours down the road wouldn’t notice you. Your feet kicked the air playfully as you doodled the flowers in your line of sight, humming contentedly with a cherry-flavoured lollipop hanging from your lips. You were so engrossed in your sketch that you almost didn’t notice the shadow looming over you, blocking the warm sunlight.

“Who are you?” A tall man with dark features frowned at you and you looked up, mirroring his frown.

“I don’t talk to strangers.” You huffed, returning your attention to your notebook. That wasn’t strictly true- you were bubbly and befriended anyone who would have you but this man in particular intimidated you.

“What are you, ten?” He scoffed and raised his thick eyebrows, forehead wrinkles deepening.

Much to your annoyance, you could sense that he wasn’t leaving before he got a satisfactory response - so you put your pencil down and looked up at him again. His cerulean blue eyes shone so brightly they practically twinkled and a sharp spark flew through your heart at the sight. Rugged, almost-black hair choppily framed his chiselled face, which had smudges of dirt and sweat flecking his tanned skin. A manual labourer, perhaps?

“I’m Bunny. Jus’ moved in over there.” You turn around and point at the apartment behind you. “And you are?”

“Happy to see you.” His deep, raspy voice replied teasingly.

“I meant your name.” You corrected him snappily.

“My real one or a fake one like you just gave me?” You pout your lips; you didn’t like his sharp tongue.

“I’m James. James Kelly.” He said after a while of staring at your scrunched-up face. “I’ll call you by your stupid pet name if you crave affection that badly.”

Your mouth gaped open at his callous words and you felt as though you’d been unmasked. It was undoubtedly pathetic but the truth was you considered your first name to be too harsh, too cold. You much preferred being sensitively referred to by an affectionate pet name- one that people often didn’t realise they were being duped into using, assuming it was real. But not him.

“You won’t get the opportunity to use it, I’ll make sure of that.” You crossed your arms and furrowed your brows.

“Well you’re just a little ball of anger aren’t you?” He chuckled, finding your short temper adorable. “Very tense for one so young.”

“And you’re very nosy for one so old.” You gather your colouring pencils into your fluffy pencil case, your creative inspiration rattled by his presence. You surmised that he was at least 10 years your senior; his hands looked weathered but still supple, his crows feet visible but not yet entrenched.

“Hey, you don’t have to move, I’m leaving.” He protests but you’re already on your feet. “Alright moody, suit yourself.”

You shoot him a displeased look as you clutch your sketchpad tightly against your chest, turning your back to him and taking a step forward.

“By the way.” He adds and you halt tentatively. “You should really wear a longer dress if you’re gonna be laying down like that. I could see your panties.”

Your cheeks flush a burning red and you screw your eyes shut in embarrassment.

“They’re cute though. I like the strawberry print.” You can feel his grin beaming through his words and you want nothing more than to run away and never see his stupid handsome face again.

“Leave me alone.” You attempt to say confidently but it comes out as more of a squeak. You tried to walk off with as much dignity as you could manage under the pressure of his burning gaze but you ended up frantically skipping back, wanting to go home and bury your face in your pillows as soon as possible.

“What a rude man.” You thought. “Rude and irritatingly attractive.”

Later that evening, you took it upon yourself to bake several lots of chocolate chip cookies- eager to use them as a way of getting into your new neighbour’s good graces since you lived off a steady diet of praise and compliments. You separated the different batches and ordered them into various paper bags, each lovingly wrapped with a ribbon and placed delicately into a woven wicker basket. Glancing into the mirror before you set off, you manoeuvred your lace-trimmed tank top down a little to accentuate your cleavage- you loved to watch men struggle to maintain eye contact with you.

After determining your chest looked too bare, you bounded over to the bedroom to retrieve your favourite necklace- a dainty silver rabbit pendant. As you fiddled with the clasp, something out of the window caught your eye- you noticed that the house usually shrouded in darkness had a glimmer of light peeking through its half-opened blinds.

Curiosity inevitably got the better of you so you grabbed your baked goods and made a beeline to the dark house, intrigued by the prospect of who its resident might be.

Clearing your throat and brushing some creases out of your skirt, you press the sooty doorbell and hope your mystery neighbour is in a sociable mood. The hopeful smile is wiped off your face when the door opens and you see the same rude man from this morning before you.

“Look at that! My very own girl scout.” He laughs incredulously and you form a face of disgust.

“It’s you.” You recoiled.

“Try saying that with less repulsion.” He retaliated, eyes flicking between your frowning face, your tits and the basket of cookies. “Coming to a man’s house and being disappointed that he lives there. That a hobby of yours?”

“N-no, I didn’t know who lived here.” You stuttered, taking in the sight before you: he must’ve just gotten out the shower as his hair was dripping wet and his shirt unbuttoned, a silver cross necklace dangling over his collarbones and positioned between his firm pecs.

“Thought you said you don’t talk to strangers, let alone turn up at their house.” He cocked his head to the side, leaning against his doorframe. “Uninvited, at that.”

“I don’t. At least not the rude ones who make comments about a girl’s underwear.” You retorted petulantly.

“Hey, that was me looking out for you. Don’t know what kind of pervs live ‘round here- they could take advantage of a girl like you. Those for me?” He points at the basket.

“I-I guess.” You go to take out one bag but he snatches the whole basket. “What do you mean a girl like me?”

“Oh you know-“ He speaks casually, mouth half full of his first helping of baked goods already. “Ditzy. Spoilt and naive.”

You huff in disbelief- you’d hardly had two conversations with the guy and he’d managed to insult you several times already.

“Don’t get offended, princess. I’m sure you’re not used to people speaking so candidly with you but welcome to the real world.” He makes a face indicating that he was impressed with your confectionary, licking the crumbs off his fingers. “This your first time living away from home?” He points his second cookie at your face before stuffing that in his mouth too.

“Uh, yeah.” You drawl, confused. What planet was this guy from?

“Alone?” He lowers his voice, staring hungrily into your eyes.

“Yeah.” You squeak, wondering why your confidence had abandoned you.

“Shouldn’t have told me that.” He sneered. “I could be a predator and you’ve just armed me with the knowledge that you have no one to protect you.” His eyes look crazed and you get the sense that he got a kick out of playing around with you.

“Well, are you?” You reply unamused and he drops the act, looking at you through squinted discerning eyes.

“Mm, no.” He sniffed. “Haven’t got the stomach for it. Great cookies, by the way. You’re quite the little baker.”

You can’t resist the smile that creeps up on your face, delighted with his approval. “I try.” You humbly gleam, teetering on your tiptoes.

“Aw, you actually look sort of pretty when you’re not scowling.” Your glowing face drops in an instant, marred by his insult.

“Sort of?”

“Yeah. Like in an endearing but bratty child kind of way.” He notices your sullen face, tensed up with disapproval and confusion. “You’re not really my type, sweetheart.”

“Y-you’re not mine either!” You spit out a little too fast.

“The only difference is I don’t care.” He snorts and you remain in stunned silence, your ego bruised beyond words. “What’s the matter? Never had a man uninterested in you? Come in, I’ll make you a consolatory coffee.”

He gestures for you to enter and you walk in cautiously, following his lead to the lounge. His house was minimalist, fitted with sleek black furniture and a surprisingly clean kitchen at the other end of the living room.

“I don’t drink coffee. And what is your type then?” You sink down onto his leather armchair and cross your arms.

“I like a more mature, developed woman.” You look down at your large round breasts. “I meant emotionally.” He adds before you can say anything.

“I’m plenty mature.” You think grumpily. You knew better than to base your self-worth on the validation of a man but goddamn it, you wanted him to like you even if you didn’t like him.

“My type is also mature men.” You countered haughtily.

“I don’t recall asking.” He pours himself a coffee and sits down opposite you, continuing to steal glances at your chest.

“I also like them wealthy.” You add, spurred on by his disaffection.

“Like your daddy?” He smirks as he takes a sip and you scowl at him.

“Oh no, not the frown again.” He falters mockingly. “If looks could kill…you know Bunny, you shouldn’t let things get to you so easily.”

“Can’t help it. I’m sensitive.” You mumble half-mindedly, preoccupied with plotting all the ways in which you could seduce him. You tried to have self-respect, you really did, but it was just so hard. Especially when you’d just been dealt such an unprecedently juicy challenge; a man who didn’t want to sleep with you? It was practically unheard of and you humbly decided you would take it upon yourself to cure him of this affliction.

Next chapter

Taglist:

@crazy4hotmen @erinkeifer @mortalheartache @arzua10 @mugwump327 @offthethirlwall

#hayden christensen #hayden christensen fanfiction #anakin skywalker #James Kelly #American heist #james Kelly fanfiction #anakin skywalker smut #anakin x reader #anakin x you

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gtgbabie0 · 1 year

Note

hi there! I love ur works so so much 🤍 everything by u is so sweet! can I request leon meeting a florist reader because he has to get flowers for something and when he sees her he’s already in love cause he thinks she’s really pretty 🥹 and they just have a really lovely encounter and he comes by the shop a lot and eventually he asks her out

The pretty florist

{Leon falls in love with the pretty florist}

So so cute!! Hope you enjoy lovely! 💕

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Leon can’t remember much of his childhood and recently he found himself forgetting a lot more than just the past, for better or for worse, probably for the better he reckons. Still, today was special, the 24th of May, his grandmother's eightieth birthday, the strongest woman he knows.

He wants to give her something at least, no matter how many times she tells him ‘not to worry’ The least he can do is pick her up some flowers, and he finds himself drawn to the cute little flower shop, it seemed so out of place buried within the busy city.

He opens the door carefully, surprised at the little jingle of the bell and he’s hit with the strong aroma of flowers, it’s oddly pleasant, in a refreshing spring way.

“Oh! Good afternoon, looking for anything in particular?” you smile, popping your head around the corner as you walk behind the cash register, and Leon does nothing but stand there completely awestruck. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone so pretty, so angelic.

He clears his throat as he wrings his fingers with sudden nervousness, “H-hi- erm, yes” he stutters squeezing his eyes shut as he winces at how awful that sounded.

“I’ve umm, I’ve never done this, brought flowers I mean- well no I have- brought flowers- I just get them already arranged” he rambles, and he feels like an idiot.

But then you giggle, and it’s the most heartwarming sound that he’s ever heard and it somehow makes him feel a lot better, “Oh, It’s alright, let’s just start on why you’re buying them, and then we’ll go from there, okay?” You tell him with such a soft tone, he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

His heart shouldn’t be beating this fast, he’s only literally just met you, so why does he feel like his heart is going to explode?

“So what's the special occasion?” You ask.

“It’s erm, it’s my grandmother's birthday today- I wanted to get her something” he smiles as you nod, and he’s taken back at the way your eyes seem to glisten under the afternoon sun, such pretty eyes, he thinks.

You’re saying something and he knows he should be listening, but god, he’s so distracted by your beauty and the kindness that bleeds into your tone.

“-I’ll be one second alright?” You smile and before he could even begin to string a sentence together you’ve already disappeared behind the curtains and into the back room.

You return after just a minute, a beautiful bouquet in hand different variations of yellows and blues, with specks of white dotted around the bundle of beautiful flowers, and Leon finds a new appreciation for greenery.

“They— they’re beautiful thank you, she’s going to love them” he smiles, pleased with the arrangement and he watches carefully as you wrap them up finishing them off with a little white bow.

You look up at him as pulls out his wallet handing you the money, “You’re welcome, I’m glad you like them” You giggle, a prideful feeling settling in your chest.

You pick up the bouquet handing them to him and your skin warms up as his fingers brush against yours ever so slightly, you can’t stop the huge smile that adorns your face as you watch him leave. You can only hope you’ll see him again.

Your wishes were granted, Leon Kennedy, you learned his name became quite a regular sometimes he’d just visit to drop you off lunch, and you couldn’t lie it was nice having someone around. He was sweet.

Like every other day, Leon would pop over to your little flower shop, a coffee in hand and a sandwich of your choice with a huge smile stretched across his face.

“Ah! Leon, you’re my hero- thank you” you tell him as he places the bag on the countertop, chuckling at the way you rummage through the bag.

He watches as you take a bite of the sandwich with love in his eyes, and he can't help but wonder if you look at him with love-filled eyes when he looks away.

“So what’s brought you here today Lee?” You ask, wiping the corners of your mouth as he runs a nervous hand through his hair, a habit of his you picked up on. His heart flutters at the nickname that falls from your lips.

He clears his throat, “Well I- I wanted to ask you something” he stumbles, his hands wringing together with sudden nervousness.

“Yeah go ahead” you smile, urging him to continue.

Leon thinks he might pass out, or worse his heart might stop altogether, the past month he’s been working himself up to do this and now that he’s finally about to do it he can’t stop the tremor in his hands.

“I was- I was wondering if maybe- if you might want to go out some time together, dinner maybe?- like a date if you wanted to” his eyes study the floor beneath him, not daring to look up at you scared of any rejection that might stain your eyes.

But then you reach for his hand and his skin goes all staticky, and when he finally looks at that beautiful smile of yours his heart seems to find a calm rhythm.

his question sends you reeling with excitement and you go giddy at how he looks at you, awaiting your answer with a hopeful gleam in his blue eyes, “I- I would love to Leon” you giggle, noticing the redness that tints his cheeks.

“Is- is Friday good?” He wonders, trying to ignore how soft your hand feels against his.

“Yeah, Friday works,” you tell him excitement bursts through your chest as his thumb grazes ever so slightly over your knuckles.

Leon hasn’t felt like this in a very very long time, the way his heart practically skips beats, how his skin heats up and the butterflies that flutter around in his stomach, he can’t stop the bashful smile that stretches over his face.

“I’ll erm pick you up at seven,” he says as he grabs his car keys, “I- I gotta go- work- before I’m late- see you Friday” he smiles stumbling over himself as he waves goodbye before walking out the quaint little shop.

You giggle to yourself as you busy yourself with work, thinking about Friday and it couldn’t come sooner.

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elyssialumengard · 3 months

Text

Alastor x Reader : Fragile Link ( Part 2 )

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Link to the first part for those who haven't read it :

https://www.tumblr.com/elyssialumengard/741783404758073344/alastor-x-reader-fragile-link-part-1?source=share

Summary : In this chapter, Charlie presents his redemption hotel project to (y/n), an powerful overlord. Alastor, with his own motives, tries to persuade (y/n) to become involved in their confrontation against Adam.

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Taku knocked a second time, but the silence remained implacable.

Tangible anxiety flashed across his face as he prepared to strike a third time, softly saying :

- My Lady, may I come in ?

Getting no response, he made a face that the two people behind him did not see. Charlie frowned at Alastor, wondering what was going on. The radio demon tilted his head to the side, his eyes narrowing, wondering why (y/n) was slow to respond, when usually, she was so responsive. He could sense her presence, so it wasn't due to a mistake in location.

The demon, under the overlord's orders, did not hesitate to not ask permission, instead deciding to carefully push open the door. He entered, Charlie and Alastor on his heels, where the blonde was amazed by the clean layout of the place.

The room was bathed in soft, calming light that filtered through the thin curtains, letting in the golden rays of the artificial sun. The walls were painted in light tones, accentuating the brightness of the room and creating a warm atmosphere. Delicately framed paintings adorned the walls, bringing an artistic touch to the whole.

At the back of the room, a solid wooden desk was placed, on which were placed a kettle, a selection of fine teas in pretty metal boxes, delicately decorated porcelain cups, as well as small biscuits arranged on a plate.

Two plush sofas were placed opposite each other in the center, separated by a glass coffee table on which were a few magazines and a vase filled with fresh flowers. The elegantly patterned cushions added a touch of color and comfort to the seating.

Shelves full of books stretched along one of the walls, offering a varied selection of reading material for all tastes. Potted plants were scattered here and there, bringing greenery and freshness to the room.

In this welcoming and peaceful environment, (y/n) stood near a window, her back, silently contemplating the landscape through the glass, absorbed in her thoughts.

Approaching with growing concern, Taku called out to him again. Hearing this time, (y/n) gracefully pivoted towards them, revealing her strangely angelic appearance, which always disconcerted those who saw her for the first time.

Her hair, as white as fresh snow, flowed in silky cascades around her face, framing delicate, celestial features. His gaze, both gentle and penetrating, could have probed the deepest souls. Slight wrinkles framed her eyes, testifying to the countless trials she had endured. Fine deer antlers stood on the top of his head, rather large, extending back, adorned with light beads that had been made for her decades ago.

She was wrapped in a long taupe gray t-shirt, loose and flowing, the long sleeves of which fell almost delicately over her slender hands. The hem of the garment caressed the bottom of her buttocks while she had taken care to slip the front into her straight black fabric pants, thus defining her silhouette. A navy blue belt, carefully adjusted, captured the whole in subtle harmony. On her feet, sandals matching the color of the belt, with black wedge heels, seemed to extend the slender line of her legs.

Despite the apparent casualness of her outfit, she emanated an aura of dignity and serenity, giving her presence a natural nobility and captivating maturity.

Yet, despite the brilliance of her beauty and the imposing aura that surrounded her, an enigmatic fragility seemed to emanate from her, as if the burden of the entire world rested on her proud shoulders. Silent tears beading from her white eyelashes, sliding slowly down her cheeks, leaving in their wake sparkling traces on the porcelain of her skin.

Faced with this heartbreaking vision, Charlie's heart ached with empathy. She could almost feel the pain and suffering emanating from (y/n), even though she didn't know her.

Ignoring Charlie and Alastor, (y/n) walked towards Taku who was walking towards her. Their gestures betrayed a deep and ancient familiarity. She held out a trembling hand, which Taku took tenderly, placing his other hand on her hip for support.

Tears continued to fall down (y/n)’s cheeks as she begged for comfort.

- Taku... I am gripped by doubt and torment... Did I make the right decision ? Was I right to act this way ? She whispered in a broken voice. My heart breaks thinking that another member of my family will suffer loneliness and fear because of the consequences of my actions.

Taku looked at her affectionately, his hand gently stroking hers to comfort her.

- You acted according to your duty. He replied in a soothing voice. Lynn broke established laws. It has threatened the balance that you have so ardently preserved. You had no choice but to punish him.

An encouraging smile appeared on Taku's lips, trying to ease his mistress' pain.

- Your wisdom and prudence have protected our family and our territory. Don't let the burden of your decisions torment you. We are all at your side, aware of the rules, ready to support your choices, however difficult they may be.

(y/n) closed her eyes, feeling the tears continue to fall down her cheeks despite her efforts to hold them back.

- I know, Taku... I realize that none of you hated me for that, that I did what had to be done, but... But that doesn't lessen the pain. She whispered, letting out a sigh of sorrow.

Taku, still close to her, dried her tears delicately, his fingers tenderly caressing her skin. He moved even closer, trying to offer her whatever comfort he could in this moment of torment and vulnerability, no longer caring at all about the guests.

Observing this touching scene, Charlie was overcome by an emotion mixed with surprise and fascination. She didn't expect such intimacy between Taku and (y/n), but she couldn't help but find it magnificent, given the evidence of the deep attachment between them.

While as far as Alastor was concerned, he felt a surge of rage wash over him, his fingers tightening around the top of his cane with increasing intensity. His sinister smile widened, tinged with a dark glow as he observed this lesser demon, acting as if he was entitled to such closeness.

A shadow passed through his eyes, mixing jealousy and desire for possession.

- Remember this, my Lady. Your wisdom has always brought us serenity and protection. Your decisions were dictated by necessity and prudence. He continued in a soothing voice, trying to ease her pain.

(y/n) listened carefully to her advisor's comforting words, her expression relaxing slightly under his influence. However, when she heard the crackles of the radio growing louder in the room, her eyes suddenly widened, recognizing the sound with a disturbing certainty.

- Alastor, I advise you to control your emotions. Taku intervened, diverting his attention to the demon. I did not grant you an audience here, with my Lady, for you to cause trouble.

Alastor bit back a growl, his stag horns growing slightly in response to his growing frustration.

- I'm not the one who starts the trouble, my dear Taku. He replied, his gaze burning with a dark glow. But no matter, I wouldn't want to spoil your little intimate moment with your precious overlord. He added acerbically, his pupils narrowing, leaving more room for the black of his eyes.

Before Taku could respond, a bitter cold suddenly filled the room, dropping the temperature several degrees and obscuring the surrounding light. (y/n)'s silver eyes glowed menacingly as she stared at Alastor with an icy intensity, filled with hatred and menace.

Detaching itself slightly from Taku, (y/n)'s aura transformed into a terrifying presence, imbuing the room with a heavy and sinister atmosphere. His antlers grew larger as did his shadow which expanded, morphing into a tight grip around Alastor's body, immobilizing him. All this happened in barely the blink of an eye. Alastor's mischievous smile froze, becoming more awkward as he tried to keep his composure.

Charlie, panicked, let out a little cry of fear when she saw Alastor in danger. (y/n) walked towards him with determined steps, her piercing gaze staring at him intensely. Once in front of him, the same size, she addressed him in a cold voice :

-What are you here for, radio demon ?

Aware of the palpable threat in the air, Alastor responded with feigned confidence :

- Just to chat, my dear overlord. I come as a friend, as always.

- As friends ? She replied, an icy glint in her eyes. You have no friends here. You only have enemies waiting for the right moment to destroy you.

A shiver ran down Alastor's spine, but he kept his composure, his sinister smile stretching slightly across his face.

- Oh, but my dear, it's a shame. I'm sure we could get along if you gave me a chance.

(y/n) stared at him with contempt.

- You don't belong here, Alastor. And if you even think for a moment about sowing chaos in my territory, know that I will make you regret every second of your existence.

When Alastor should have fought back or tried to defend himself, a subtle observation revealed to him an unsuspected truth, escaped everyone's attention. The shadow's hold on him, although similar to that of his memories, was not as stifling or threatening as he had thought. He felt within himself the possibility of freeing himself from it, if he really wanted to. Staring intently at the face of the woman he had come to meet, he noticed that the tears had stopped flowing, giving way to an expression valiantly fighting against fatigue.

Smiling even more, he decided to lighten the atmosphere with his usual sarcastic humor.

- Let's see, my dear, you take me for a more belligerent demon than I really am. He said, giving a mocking smile. I'm here on a much more interesting matter than causing chaos. Actually, I'm here to introduce you to someone !

(y/n) arched an eyebrow, her expression hardening even further.

-And who is this person you are talking about ? She asked in a biting voice.

Alastor let out a small laugh, turning to Charlie with a theatrical nod.

- Allow me to introduce you to Princess Charlie Morningstar, heir to the throne of Hell and the founder of the Hazbin Hotel !

Charlie, feeling a little uncomfortable under (y/n)'s unforgiving gaze, gave her a shy smile and bowed slightly.

- Hey… Nice to meet you, Lady (y/n). She said in a calm but respectful voice.

( y/n ) looked away from Alastor to stare at Charlie, his expression softening slightly. She observed the young princess with a mixture of curiosity and evaluation, taking the time to look her over from head to toe, making her slightly uncomfortable, feeling as if the one who was taller than her she probed the depths of his soul.

- Charlie Morningstar… She whispered, repeating the name as if to engrave it in her memory.

As (y/n) scrutinized Charlie with growing interest, a resolve seemed to arise within her. With a graceful gesture of her hand, she dispelled the shadow that still enveloped Alastor, thus freeing the demon from his yoke. The temperature of the room and its brightness returned to their natural balance, while (y/n)'s deer antlers returned to their initial size.

(y/n), now more relaxed, conformed to the rules of etiquette, respecting them. A gracious smile graced her lips as she gave Charlie a salutation of gracious solemnity, bowing her head slightly in respect.

- The pleasure is shared, Princess Charlie. She replied in a soft but confident voice, getting up. It is an honor to welcome you to my modest home. Please forgive me for the vulnerable and aggressive version of myself that you may have encountered. Under no circumstances should she be present in the presence of royalty such as yours.

Charlie was pleasantly surprised by the sudden change in (y/n)'s attitude, feeling more comfortable in her presence. She bowed respectfully in gratitude, acknowledging the courtesy of the Overlord of Hell, not being used to being shown so much respect.

(y/n) then turned towards the couches, inviting Charlie to sit down.

- Please sit down, Princess Charlie, you must be tired from all this walking. She declared in a friendly voice, gesturing elegantly to the sofa.

Charlie nodded politely and sat down, his gaze following Alastor who stood behind the back of the sofa, his teasing smile still hanging on his lips. Meanwhile, (y/n) sent a command to Taku.

- Taku, please prepare some tea for our guest. She ordered in a calm but authoritative voice, as she sat down her turn, opposite Charlie who was standing straight, playing with his fingers.

Taku nodded silently, bowing slightly before walking over to where the teapot and cups were set out. He prepared the tea with silent skill, discreetly observing his enemy out of the corner of his eye.

As for Alastor, he remained unfazed by the presence of the one he would like to see dead, his expression still teasing, his gaze sparkling with undisguised malice as he observed the scene with palpable amusement.

Once the tea was ready, Taku approached Charlie and handed him a cup with a respectful gesture.

- Your tea, Princess Charlie. He announced in a neutral voice, placing it in front of her on the table, before serving (y/n), who thanked him with a warm but moderate smile.

Charlie thanked him with a grateful smile and took the cup carefully, feeling the comforting warmth of the liquid against his fingers. She took a small sip, savoring the soothing taste of the tea. (y/n) observed him with a slight smile, then suddenly declared, breaking the silence that had fallen :

- If I may say so, you look exactly like your father, Lucifer.

Charlie, astonished, looked at her in surprise.

- Do you know my father ? She asked with a hint of disbelief, unsure of what to think.

(y/n) nodded slightly.

- We met on a few rare occasions. She replied in a calm voice, full of reflection. But I must admit that I don't particularly hold it in my heart. Although I understand that he is overwhelmed by the illness of depression, especially since the departure of Lilith, your mother, I firmly believe that a king, even if he did not choose this destiny, must above all think to his subjects and be ready to sacrifice himself for them. Unfortunately, your father doesn't always seem to understand this, letting innocent people perish every year and condemning all sinners indiscriminately.

A nervous laugh escaped Charlie's lips at this unexpected revelation, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, trying to hide his growing confusion. Another heavy silence settled in the room, (y/n) doing everything to ignore the presence of Alastor, who reveled in his reaction.

After taking a sip, the hostess asked in a friendly but curious voice :

-And if not, can you inform me of your coming here, princess ? I must admit that I never imagined such a thing happening.

Charlie felt a surge of intense excitement course through her body as she jumped to her feet, the surge in her voice ready to burst into song to introduce her hotel of redemption. Her eyes glowed with palpable determination as she prepared to share her vision with those in the room.

- Oh uh yes ! Let me introduce you to my hotel that rehabilitates fishermen ! She began in a vibrant, almost musical voice. A place where the most lost souls can find redemption and inner peace.

His momentum was abruptly interrupted by the authoritarian voice of (y/n), which ended his tirade :

- There is no room for songs here, princess. Please forgive me for interrupting you, but I believe that there is a time for everything, including songs. If this is serious, you can present things differently.

Charlie, disappointed by the abrupt interruption of her creative momentum, sat up slowly, stammering an excuse. Alastor raised an eyebrow and said in a voice tinged with sarcasm :

- Are you sure about that, (y/n) ?

Ignoring Alastor's remarks and the hostile glances exchanged between him and Taku, (y/n) focused on Charlie, noticing his growing state of stress. Telling herself that his condition was because of her, with natural grace, she offered him a soothing smile and said softly :

- There's no reason to stress, princess, I didn't want to upset you. However, I can't stand the music anymore.

Hearing this, Alastor's smile became colder and more sarcastic. Charlie, looking at the woman in front of her, sighed, her shoulders slumping. She still had a hard time realizing that she was here, sharing tea with the person she considered an example to follow. As a result, she could not hold back from sharing her adoration for the overlord.

- You know, I've always heard about you. Rumors say that you are almost as powerful as my father, but that you have chosen a different path. A path of compassion and helping others.You have made pacts with sinners, protecting them and guiding them through the troubled waters of life. It's incredible. Everyone talks about you, but we never see you. You might almost think you're a legend. And yet here I am, facing you, realizing that you are very real. I admire you so much. It's like meeting my idol. Your strength, your generosity... It's inspiring. I mean, who else could boast of having (y/n) as an ally ? That's... That would just be amazing.

As Charlie's excitement began to skyrocket again, (y/n) gave him a kind look and said gently, touched by his words :

- Calm down, princess. Thank you for your admiration. Breathe, I am fully listening to you.

Charlie, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, outlined his plan with frankness tinged with nervousness. She honestly admitted that it was her fault that the purge had been brought forward six months, explaining that in a month Adam and the exterminators would come to see them first. Unable to hide her anxiety, she admitted that she did not know what to do in the face of this critical situation.

-And so… Alastor brought me here to get your help, apparently. She added, casting an uncertain look at Alastor.

( y/n ), staring skeptically at Alastor for the first since this exchange, raised an eyebrow, expressing doubt about the demon's intentions. In a calm but direct voice, she asked him :

- Do you really think you'll help Charlie with his hotel ? Do you believe in this idea of redemption ?

Alastor replied with a hint of amusement in his voice :

- Ah, my dear (y/n), believe in redemption ? It’s like believing in Santa Claus ! However, I see Charlie's little project as an entertainment opportunity. And maybe, who knows, a few souls to collect for eternity. But don't get me wrong, I'm here to save his project, it shouldn't be broken too quickly. I was even the one who chose the name of the brand, the “Hazbin Hotel”!

Faced with Alastor's response, Charlie felt disappointed and blasé, her face betraying her displeasure. She had hoped to find a sincere ally in him, but his words had reminded her of the dark and detached nature of the one who accompanied her today.

(y/n), turning to Taku with a serious look, asked him if the information provided by Alastor was true. Taku nodded soberly, confirming that according to his informants, the stated facts were accurate. (y/n) bowed his head slightly in recognition towards Taku before turning back to Charlie.

- I see… And what do you want from me, princess ?

Alastor spoke up to propose a solution to the situation.

- You know, (y/n), with your power and your army of fishermen, you could put an end to all this. You could even come to the aid of other potential members of what you insist on calling your “family”. He said in a convinced tone, looking at his nails, keeping a straight posture, not wanting to slump against the backrest even if he wanted to, wanting to keep a good face in front of her.

In a gesture of controlled serenity, (y/n) gently raised her hand to interrupt him, before falling gracefully on his knee. Closing her eyes briefly, she gathered her thoughts before responding in a calm but resolute voice :

- I understand your point of view, but I refuse to put the members of my family in danger for a matter that does not directly concern them. Here we are safe.

(y/n)'s reply, although delivered with apparent confidence, does not quite succeed in convincing Alastor, accustomed to detecting chinks in the armor of his interlocutors. He had subtly noticed the change in expression on the overlord's face. A smirk tugged at his thin lips, his eyes sparkling with biting amusement as he prepared to further explore the cracks in (y/n)'s confidence.

- You sure about that ? He asked, his voice softly tinged with a veiled threat. Think about it my dear. Things change, alliances break, and even your fishermen could find themselves caught in the tumult of this impending war.

He remained silent for a moment, letting his words permeate the atmosphere, then he continued in a calm but incisive tone :

- Imagine for a moment that Adam's forces are getting closer. Do you really think they will stop indefinitely at the gates of your pocket dimension ? That your precious fishermen will be spared from their fury ? No, my dear (y/n), your security is only an illusion in this constantly moving world. And if you refuse to act now, you may bitterly regret it when the flames of war lick the walls of your refuge.

He paused, letting his words resonate in (y/n)'s mind, before concluding with a sardonic smile :

- Of course, I do not underestimate your ability to protect your domain. But it's always good to consider all possibilities, even the darkest ones. After all, prudence is the mother of safety, right ?

Alastor knew how to tug on the heartstrings of high-ranking demons like (y/n). He used his charisma and sharp rhetoric to sow doubt in the overlord's mind, giving her a different perspective on the situation and pushing her to consider more aggressive actions to protect her rule and honor.

Before Charlie could intervene with his own arguments, Taku, faithful servant, spoke in a respectful but determined tone.

- My Lady. He began in a voice full of devotion. I understand the arguments made by this nuisance, but I implore you, do not let fear and uncertainty dictate your actions. You are the force that unites us, the light that guides our steps in the darkness. Your prudence is our shield against the chaos that always threatens to engulf us. Yes, times are uncertain and threats are many, but it is precisely in these times that your leadership is most crucial. Acting in haste, under the influence of fear, would only hasten our downfall. Let us remain faithful to our strategy, to our vision of the future. With your wisdom and wise judgment, we will overcome whatever challenges come our way. Because if you choose to engage in this confrontation, you risk losing more than you could gain. Your place is here, alongside yours, to protect our home and guide our destiny. Don't let the words of a manipulative demon sow doubt in your mind. We trust you, my Lady. And as long as you stay strong, so will we.

His hand, resting confidently on (y/n)'s shoulder, testified to his unwavering support, while he awaited his suzerain's decision with respectful patience, trusting in her wisdom and in her ability to make the best decisions for them.

(y/n) turned her gaze towards Taku, letting her face rest on her hand which was placed next to her on the backrest, fighting against the wave of sadness which invaded her at the thought of Lynn, that she had punished for a recent transgression. Alastor, carefully scanning the scene, felt a pang of annoyance as he noticed the proximity between them, a proximity that bothered him more than he cared to admit.

However, her attention was diverted by something that seemed to escape the others, when she raised her arm slightly, to take Taku's hand which was on her shoulder. Another curious and interesting detail, which added to the confirmation of his suspicions. (y/n) raised his face towards Charlie, letting go of his advisor's hand, placing his arm back at his side. In a gentle voice, she expressed her regrets.

- I'm sorry, princess, but I can't help you in this matter. She declared with compassion. I can't afford to put any member of my family in danger, let alone drag them into this.

However, she offered Charlie a glimmer of hope by adding :

- However, if your hotel survives, I will be happy to support you by visiting your establishment. I could then assess whether it truly constitutes a safe haven for those who seek redemption under your protection.

This compromise seemed to assuage Charlie's disappointment, giving him an encouraging outlook for the future of his project. She couldn't hold back her joy and literally jumped with contentment, her eyes shining with excitement.

- You are serious ? Really ? She exclaimed, both surprised and delighted by the powerful overlord's proposal.

(y/n) nodded gently, a kind smile stretching her lips.

- Yes I am. If your hotel manages to offer a path to redemption, then some members of my family may feel drawn to that possibility. And as a worthy leader, it is my duty to help them as best I can. She declared with dignity, thus expressing her noble vision of responsibilities.

Charlie's eyes lit up even more, splashed with a mixture of admiration and gratitude.

- It's incredible ! Thank you so much, (y/n) ! You won't regret it, I promise ! She exclaimed, letting her gratitude and determination to make her project a success shine through.

Sensing Charlie's imminent departure, (y/n) smiled slightly, appreciating his enthusiasm and determination.

- I wish you good luck, princess. Do your best to save your hotel. She told him sincerely, recognizing the passion that animated the young woman.

Charlie, moved by these words, bowed respectfully to (y/n) like a fan to an idol.

- Thank you, thank you very much ! I will not disappoint you ! I will do everything to find a solution to save him, you will see ! She promised passionately before heading towards the exit, carrying with her a mixture of excitement and newfound enthusiasm, not caring if Alastor followed her or not.

Alastor remained still, staring at (y/n) with a mixture of interest and challenge in his glowing gaze. Taku, seeing that the conversation was coming to an end, turned to Alastor with a cold and bitter expression, suggesting in a scathing tone :

- It's time for you to go, demon. Your presence is no longer required.

But Alastor didn't seem to react to Taku's words, keeping his attention entirely focused on (y/n). He let out a little sarcastic laugh, before announcing in a quiet voice but full of innuendo :

- In fact, I intend to talk a little more with (y/n).

She turned her attention to him, with a neutral air, while he announced :

-And one-on-one this time.

______________________________________________

Author's note : Well, I guess there will be a part 3, right ? I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I did writing it, and that (y/n)'s character captivated you. Stay tuned for the next part !

#alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #hazbin charlie #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #radio demon #vivziepop

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squirrelsqwirow · 5 months

Text

HC: mountaineer!reiner x fem!reader

a/n: I've seen a lot of farmer!reiner and cowboy!reiner, which I love, but never a mountaineer!reiner and I just can't stop thinking about it cw: Light smut below, mentions of death, modern au, sub!reiner

mountaineer!reiner who was born and grew up within a small German village within the Bavarian Alps - a tourist town it was, attracting thousands of hikers world-wide, and hundreds of influencers for it's quaint cafes and inns.

mountaineer!reiner who knows the vast region around his village like the back of his hand - he doesn't need a map, (however he continues to take one), as he has memorised every hike, trail and worn-down path.

mountaineer!reiner who owns a moderately-sized wooden cabin just outside of the village with his lovely wife

mountaineer!reiner who's cabin sits on a grassy hillside walled by the forest, the only access being the dirt driveway that weaves through the woods - a delicate creek slices through the hillside and runs next to the cobble patio outback

mountaineer!reiner who awakens every morning with you in his arms, face dug into the crook of your neck, the newly grown scruff on his chin and cheeks scratching your skin as he shifts to hold you closer - you groan as he does, being pushed from side-to-side as he wiggles down to rest on your chest, arms secured around your waist

"what'ya doing?" you had said the first time. "sorry," he mumbled and place a sleepy kiss to the fat of your right breast. "you're warm." reiner hummed with a smile as you ran your fingers through his hair and caressed his face. "and comfortable."

mountaineer!reiner who loves slow mornings, basking in the yellow light that seeps through the curtains as you both struggle to pull back the covers - who loves mornings where you lay together as entangled limbs; pants; whines; soft moans filling the room - who loves productive mornings where you both separately get ready for the day, sharing quick kisses as you pass each other in the hallway, kitchen and bedroom

mountaineer!reiner who always brings you in for a deep kiss as he leaves for the day, and as he pulls away he gives you the warmest, sweetest smile filled with love and adoration, caressing your cheek before whispering 'I love you'

mountaineer!reiner who works as a local guide for hikers, leading groups of people on hikes that can range from 40 minutes to the lookout on the mountain, or 6 hour hikes into the mountains and forest

mountaineer!reiner who loves his job and wishes to leave Germany for a little while to hike some of the most famous trails in the world

mountaineer!reiner who wants to bring you on these dream journeys, your hands linked together as you scale the flat or rough terrain - bodies pressed together under the sleeping bag as the tent pitter-patters with light rain - the taste of coffee on your tongues as you share kisses against the great view of the rising sun

mountaineer!reiner who always wants to match his wife's hiking clothes

"love, which ones should we wear?" reiner turned around and held up two different sets of hiking clothes. he lifted the first pair: "the blue and black?" he lifted the second: "or the red, orange and yellow?" you had little time to think as reiner sheepishly held out the first pair. "I like this one." you smiled, "I like that one too."

mountaineer!reiner who loves taking you on hikes, whether they be days long or 30 minutes into the forest for a picnic

mountaineer!reiner who's favourite spot for a picnic is a grassy hillside behind the cabin that's peppered with flowers, over-looking the village - a basket, a red-white checkered blanket and you lying next to him - he's in heaven

mountaineer!reiner who cannot stop sneezing as he collects a bouquet for you from the field - who almost cries when you continue to preserve the bouquets he gives you and place them in vases around the house - he'll stare lovingly at them when you're away

mountaineer!reiner who will lick excess whipped cream from the corner of your mouth, his face the shade of the strawberry jam in the pastries he and you baked for the picnic date

he pulls away with his heart thumping against his ribs, the taste of whipped cream heavy on his tongue. you gently reached out for his chin and bring him in for a soft kiss, one that leaves a shy smile on his face. reiner leans his head into the crook of your neck and looks down at the bustling village below, feeling happy and loved.

mountaineer!reiner who's job isn't always great, as within the wilderness and long hiking trails people can go missing

mountaineer!reiner is one of the first to be called when a hiker disappears - works himself to the bone trying to find them, narrowing down their last known location and following tracks, exploring every possible structure in the area that the hiker could have taken refuge in, working alongside a large team that scales mountains and dips into valley's

mountaineer!reiner who can almost cry with joy as he finds them curled away to escape the dropping temperatures, and sometimes mountaineer!reiner who sobs into your lap as the search is called off after a number of weeks

mountaineer!reiner who, under the covers in your shared bed, will confess his feelings of failure and guilt for never finding this hiker - he'll confess the pure terror of being lost in the wilderness, one of his greatest fears

"I feel like I could've done more," reiner said with half his face dug into the pillow. "maybe if I looked harder or-or tried harder we would've found them..." his voice cracks, "but I-I just..." you don't say anything as he sobs, only pulling him closer and running your fingers through his hair.

mountaineer!reiner who is a kind, empathetic and compassionate man that never forgets the people never found, and tried his best to bring some sort of closure to the families

mountaineer!reiner who often retreats to the hot-spring behind the cabin to relax and clear his mind - his favourite time to jump in is during winter, when the snow is heavy and thick, but most importantly with you curled up by his side

mountaineer!reiner who pants into your shoulder and clings to your waist as you sit on his lap, the steaming water sloshing against your sides as you slide up and down

his face is red from the heat, and you can see how he is close from the way he bites his lip and his eyes roll back into his head. reiner's hips stutter as you whisper sweet nothings into his ear, his legs tremble beneath the water and as you bring his head to rest on your shoulder, his mouth falls open as the tight pressure between his legs finally bursts.

mountaineer!reiner who loves when you make love to him slow and sensual, but isn't against being roughed up every now and then - he will pay back the favour with his head between your thighs for as long as you want, drunk of the sound of your moans and the gentle whisper of the forest outside the open window

mountaineer!reiner who's lean and sharply toned in the summer, muscles rippling under his skin as he carries out his chores, but is softer and squishy during the colder months, his strong muscles coated in a thin layer of fat

mountaineer!reiner who always asks if you can help him shave even though he is perfectly capable of doing it himself - he just loves the feeling of you softly angling his head to where you want, and brushing your fingers down his soft cheeks

mountaineer!reiner who pretends to not notice you eyeing him as he chops wood outside, and who always 'accidentally' forgets to put on a shirt as he does - he'll have a lopsided grin and a deep blush, but doesn't fail to give you a show as he casually stretches to flex his large biceps and back muscles

mountaineer!reiner who loves the domestic life he lives - chopping wood out back, cooking meals, cleaning the house, fixing the sink in the kitchen and frequent trips into the village where he takes his wife to brunch

mountaineer!reiner who has been cleaning out a spare room little by little for months, almost bouncing in excitement at the possibility that it might be a nursery one day

"hey, sweetheart?" reiner beckoned you to the doorway of the spare room and pointed to the far right corner. "what'ya think about... I dunno, a crib in here soon?"

mountaineer!reiner who loves his life, wife and little slice of paradise and wouldn't trade it for all the riches in the world

#reiner braun #aot reiner #reiner x reader #reiner smut #attack on titan #aot #reiner #reiner braun x reader

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wedgiestoriescollective · 4 months

Text

The Senior: A Night in a Hotel Room

(The last Re-Upload)

Chase and I continued our interesting relationship after the events that took place after the choir concert. But the holidays are always a busy time, even during school. I had projects to complete and so did Chase, our daily routine of me giving Chase’s underwear a pull died down for a bit. I did get him a couple times. One time during a break at our choir practice, I yanked his American Eagle trunks up his butt when we were alone in the church's library. Oh man, that was so hot. His jeans were so tight that day, and he was wearing a maroon sweater.

He looked like the preppy guys I'd always jack off to that I wish I could wedgie, and here I was. wedgieing him. What made it even better was that he liked it, and I knew it.

Before the holiday break I got to wedgie him one more time. Chase had recently joined the speech team, and I was also on the team. I’d like to believe that he joined the team so that he would have more reasons to spend more time with me, but it probably was one of many reasons. He did a great job in the musical and participating in speech is like participating in judged theatre. So, the cast members and teammates encouraged him to join, so he did. As a member of the team, we were required to work the tournament that our school would host. But Chase was also very good at playing the trumpet so during the day of the tournament he wasn’t available because he earned a spot in the All-Region Band. So, he stopped by near the end of the day and his job for the day was to deliver flowers that we were going to put on the table with the trophies for the awards ceremony. He texted me to help him bring them in. I met him at the loading dock as he was pulling in. Now, the wedgie that I gave him as he was getting out of his front seat was a unique one. He got out and I somehow managed to just grab the waistband without digging for it. His Blue and Red stripped American Eagle boxer briefs went right up his ass. I tugged his leg holes past his dress pants waistband, and as the tug reached its height I said “sup”, and immediately snapped his white waistband to his back.

“Come on” he said, surprisingly annoyed with his wedgie.

“What did you expect? You asked me to help” I said.

“With the flowers?” he asked as he was walking to the trunk of his car while simultaneously picking at his underwear. At this point I'd wedgied him so often that he no longer would go out of sight to adjust himself anymore. He would just pick outright in front of me. I found that hot. It was unexpecting how hot I found that to be.

“Well, sorry I'll hold off on the wedgies, I got those”. I lifted a box of flowers and walked with him into the auditorium. We were alone as we were arranging the flowers, but since the stage was so big and the curtains were down, we had no way of knowing if anyone else was there. So, it wasn't the best time to try to give Chase another wedgie. We continued working quietly getting everything all set up.

I didn’t see Chase until after the holiday break. We texted each other though, he was very good at keeping the text conversation going. It wasn’t all about wedgies. We discussed books and movies that we were both currently reading or watching. Our families. He was very present to listen to my problems. At the time my high school theatre department were prepping auditions for that years play competition. This was the closet that theatre departments in high school got to competing with one another like sports teams do. The point of the competition was to take a play, any play and cut it down to no longer than 50 minutes. My theatre teacher took this play very seriously, taking a lot of time for us to read the play in class, analyze it and audition for roles. There were 16 people in the class and only 7 roles. There was a specific role in the play that I thought I'd be right for. The role required for the actor to be able to play a young prince who may or may not have had an affair with a prince from another country. The point of the role was that you never knew for sure if the characters were gay or not. I was obsessed with the idea of possibly getting the chance to play this role, I memorized scenes, I actively participated in discussions about the play in class. I made it obvious to my theater teacher that I really wanted the role. Being in the cast for this specific play in the theatre department basically marked you as someone who is a top actor in the school. I knew I was good, but there were a lot of other guys in the department that were older and talented too. But the other kid that was my age in the theatre class Micah, was in the competition play last year and he had the experience and could very well be cast in this role. It shouldn't have bothered me as much as it did, but Micah was the top of our class, and he participated in theatre because it was something that he could put on his college apps. His family were very devoted Christians which isn’t a problem except for the fact that he would argue that the role I wanted wasn't a homosexual. He would argue this because he knew that if he was cast in the show that it would be in that role and he clearly felt that it was against his religion, so he was trying to find a reason to be able to play it. I’d say I was straight, but I knew that I wasn’t. But this role spoke to me, especially at that time and if I got it, maybe it was the reason that I needed to give myself permission to accept myself. I really wanted that part.

The weekend that the cast list was supposed to be posted, my speech team was away at a speech tournament six hours away from home. The prelim rounds went okay on that first day and Chase and I were placed in the same hotel room for the night with twin brothers that were specifically on the debate team. So, that night after the speech kids were done with their rounds, the debate kids were going to remain there till late. The hotel room had two beds and since the twin brother debaters would obviously sleep together in one of them, I was going to sleep with Chase in the other. And not only that, I was going to get to spend a lot of time alone with Chase in a room with a bed

When Chase and I got back to the hotel room, I went ahead and took a shower. We had a long day of traveling and both Chase and I had been in suits all day. I brought my sweats and tank that I would sleep in the bathroom with me and showered. When I got out of the bathroom with my sleep clothes on there was Chase, standing at the closet in only his boxers. He was hanging up his suit, after taking everything off. Though I've wedgied Chase a lot, I had never seen him without his shirt, and staring at him from behind I immediately noticed the smoothness of his shoulders. Chase wasn't muscular in the sense that he looked like a Calvin Klein model, but he was close. His butt in those boxers were very nice as well. The boxers were navy blue, obviously American Eagle because there were multiple Eagle logos al over them. He turned around,

“Hey, my turn’ he said.

I must have not been hiding my looks of intense lustful admiration because his lips slowly curved to a smirk, and he flexed his chest and hell. He didn’t have a six pack, but his chest was hot, nonetheless. He didn’t have a lot of hair, but there was some that formed a line from the bottom of his belly button to the top the waistband of his boxers. This was the first time that my thoughts went to the possible size of his dick under those boxers. I can't remember for sure, but I was probably hard. Chase started to walk across the room.

“I know what you're thinking, don't do it” he said as he walked by me to go into the bathroom. I quickly turned around after he walked by me. He stopped walking and turned his head slightly.

"You can’t help it can you?” he said.

“I guess not” I replied as my hands slowly gripped his boxers.

I tug slowly. This was my first time giving a wedgie with the other guy not wearing pants. The more I tug the more I see Chase's ass. It was firm and the more his boxers went up his butt, the harder my dick got. I drop his boxers and gently tap both of his checks with my hands.

“Enjoy your shower" I said.

“Thanks” he said walking into the bathroom.

He stayed in there for about ten minutes. When he came out of the bathroom, he had pajama bottoms with multiple XBOX logos on it. He was still wearing the same boxers that I had just wedgied, but the only way I could tell was that he was sagging his pajama bottoms slightly. But I only had a moment to observe that because he ran at me and jumped on me on the bed.

It happened very fast. I can’t remember the specifics. But we were basically wrestling, He was the senior and he was obviously a lot stronger than me, but I gave it my all wrestling wise. He pinned me in headlocks and to the ground. He was a lot stronger. But Chase and I had different end goals. His was to pin me to the ground, mine was to pull his boxers up his butt again. I got his boxers a couple of times in the struggle, but not enough to really count the wedgies I gave him legit. But there was one moment when I ended up on the top of his back. My ass was sitting on his head, and I had to have been tea-bagging Chase as I gripped his boxers in both of my hands. I was also fully hard by that point, and there was no way that Chase didn’t know because my bulge was bulging into his shoulders. But his boxers were in my hand, and I started pulling. Pulling with all the strength possible. Chase was moaning but from pleasure or pain I couldn't tell. I successfully pull one mare strong pull and I heard a slight ripping sound. I snap his boxer’s waistband onto Chase’s back, and I roll off him.

“Fuck, man that was the best wedgie yet” Chase said standing up with his hands in his,

butt fixing his boxers. I stayed laying on the bed breathing heavily.

“Damn man, you sound like we just fucked” he laughed.

I laughed that off, at at that moment a feeling of intense shame came over me. I hadn’t cum but I was close. What did those feelings mean? Why do wedgies turn me on? How can I keep this up? It was clear after today that I had extreme lust towards Chase. After seeing his body, smacking his ass, and wedgieing him like I just had.

“Everything alright man?” Chase asked as he sat down at the front of the bed. But before I could say anything there was a knock on the door.

I went and answered the door, and it was Lexi. She was one of the strongest actresses in the theatre department. A shoo in for the lead role in the competition play. She was texted the cast list for the competition play and wanted me to see it. I didn’t get the part… or any part in the play. Micah got the part. Lexi said that she wanted me to know because she didn’t want me to have to wait until Monday to see the cast list myself, but I think she wanted to tell me because she was (and still is) a world class bitch. I walked back into the room and crushed, I just started crying, I had never been more disappointed. I didn’t get the role that spoke to me and my true sexuality, and here I was crying in front of the only guy that I had ever had strong feelings for. Chase was very nice. He asked me what was wrong, and when I told him he didn't try to console me. He was just quiet as I laid down on the bed,

I must have cried myself to sleep because one moment the lights were on, and the next they were off and there was an arm around my shoulder. It was Chase's. I looked over at the other bed and saw that it was still empty. The twins weren’t back yet. I twisted my body around and there was Chase, with his eyes wide open staring at me. He said nothing and we continued just looking at one another. I wanted to kiss him, and I was positive that he wanted to kiss me. But we didn’t kiss. But what I did feel was a hand gently placing itself around my groin. Chase's hand was over my sweatpants, and he slowly put his hand into my sweats and then, into my boxer briefs. Upon impulse I reached in a removed his hand from my pants. But still staring at him. I let go of his hand. I then proceeded to stick my own, hand in my pants. I gently surrounded my dick with my fingers, and then slowly started lifting. and lowering my dick. I did this while continuing to stare at Chase. Chase decided after a couple moments that he would follow suit. He lifted the covers and stuck his hand in his boxers. We continued touching ourselves while still looking at one another. This was a new experience for me, jerking off with someone else in the room. I found it to be a very exhilarating experience. Someone else looking at me and jerking off too. I couldn't see his dick, and he couldn't see mine. That seemed to make it even hotter. We tried to keep rhythm with each other. I don’t know how long we did this, but I do remember that we didn’t climax at the same time. Chase came first, and I followed about ten seconds after. There were no words spoken during or after except for our moans. After we were done, we put the covers back on and just laid back down in bed together. I started crying again, but it was weird. There was so much sadness in my tears, but also a little comfort in the fact that in that singular moment that I was not alone. I cried gently but was surprised to feel Chase's arms wrap around my body, holding me tightly. We laid there spooned into each other. He was there holding me tightly not letting me go as slowly drifted off to sleep.

I think back to this night often. We were both in the closet at the time, and we were both not ready to admit to ourselves that we had these strong feelings. We just had this strong night together. if we were able to let ourselves be open to each other that night, maybe we would have gone farther in our sexual explorations. I did wish I kissed him that night. I wished that I let him touch me, blow me. I wish I could have seen his whole naked body, and that he could see mine. That night was more than just a wedgie fetish. But regardless, I am still grateful to what we did that night because it was a part of my story, and it was truly one of those moments when I realized that I could be attractive, that I could be desired, and that I won't always have to be alone.

#gay wedgie #wedgie nerd #gay #gay men

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